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angry-geese · 2 years

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Blood Ties - Chapter Thirty: Winter 2005

soulmate au Choso x reader

Warnings: canon typical violence. swearing. injury and death mention + some light angst

synopsis: so you know how in some shows there's sometimes a flashback right before a character dies? yeah this is that

word count: 3.6k

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Freshman year; December of 2005. Something bad was hiding out in the school gym.

The morning was turning out to be grey and bleak; unsurprising for the middle of December, despite the lack of snow. Soon winter break would come, and the students wouldn't return back to class until after the first of the year. As such, people were preparing for the upcoming holiday. The semester would soon switch over. And classes were a mess of finals, and turning in missing work. At its largest, this particular school only held about 400 students. In a regular year, it only saw about 300. The graduating class of 2006 contained only 63 students. Being only first and second years at the time, James Whitford, and Louis Rau were not among them.

“Jimmy!”

From across the school parking lot, James spies his friend’s car. He collapses into the passenger seat of Louis’ old Toyota, shoving aside a stack of empty McDonald's wrappers, and papers. The car smells faintly of stale cigarettes, old fries, and Axe body spray. The two are practically used to it at this point, despite how unpleasant it may sound.

“My mom’s ordering Chinese tonight, if you wanna come over.” Louis says.

“Can't,” says James, “still grounded.”

“You’re fifteen, how the fuck are you still getting grounded?”

“Ask my mother,” James says flatly.

Louis offers the pack of cigarettes to his friend, and he takes one, holding it between his teeth. There's a hiss as the match is struck against the back of the box. He cups his hand around his cigarette as he lights it, cracking the window just enough to flick the burnt match out of it.

James never had the taste for cigarettes the same way his friend did. He was indifferent to them. But it was an excuse to hide behind the school and talk.

“You coming to the basketball game tonight?” Asks Louis. There's the loud crunching of paper as he reaches into the mcdonalds bag by his side, pulling out something wrapped in yellow paper, handing it to his friend. Grease stains the bag, and white napkins threaten to spill out of it.

James nods. “I can't stay late, gotta study for finals. You got any fries?”

Louis scoffs, shoving the bag into his friend’s lap. “You? Studying? Who murdered you to wear you skin?”

James rolls his eyes. “My mom is already mad at me, I don't think she’ll take too kindly to an F.”

Louis’ stereo clock reads 11:45. 15 minutes until their lunch block ends. After this it's World History, math—Algebra 1, and his one elective for the day: Art. The history teacher has a real stick up his ass about food in his classroom, and by the time they get to math, the food will be cold. James crams down his burger and fries as fast as possible, hoping to have some time left before the bell rings.

“Eat any faster and you're going to choke.” Louis says.

“What are you, my mother?” He says. “It's not my fault you took so fucking long to order.”

The older boy rolls his eyes, mumbling something about there being a line. He cracks his window just enough to stick his cigarette outside, and flick the ash onto the ground.

“When's the game?” James asks.

“JV plays at 4:30, and Varsity is probably going to play at 5:30.” He says. “I doubt it’ll go any later than 7. So I say we dip a little after Varsity starts playing, if that’s cool with you?”

James nods absentmindedly. From his pocket, he pulled out his phone, sending a quick text to his mother: “staying late to help the basketball team set up. Louis is driving me home. I'll be back by 6.” Before turning off his phone entirely.

She's probably not going to be happy with that. But James doubts she’s going to go through the trouble of stopping him. Since she doesn't get off work until 6, and it's a fifteen minute drive home, it's unlikely she’ll notice him missing.

The final three periods of the day go by without anything of note. Nothing particularly interesting happens, save for a girl getting sick and leaving early to go to the nurse. James stays behind in his final class, waiting for Louis to appear. It's not uncommon for students to stay in the art room to finish projects after class.

It's barely ten minutes past three when Louis appears. The steady stream of students filing out to the buses has slowed, with only a few left behind in the halls. Most of the students have filed out of the room, save for several huddled around a painting.

The two students cut through the second door in the art room, cutting straight out into the courtyard. It's only a short walk to their smoking spot: an alcove overlooking the track and football field, but angled in such a way that it can't be seen by it. It makes a decent spot to smoke, so long as no teachers come by and smell it. And even if they do, most look the other way. The paperwork must be too much of a headache to bother with.

The two boys take their seat against the wall, packs of cigarettes in hand. The topic of conversation seems to stick to nothing in particular. Though it's hardly past 4, the sky has turned mostly black, with flashes of lightning off in the distance. The street lights have switched on. The thunder that is audible, is quiet, and far off. Slowly the wind begins to pick up. It's tolerable until the rain starts. It's not a sudden drizzle, so much as it all starts coming down at once. James counts at least ten seconds between the flashes of lightning, and the thunder. Their spot against the wall doesn't provide much cover from the rain, and if they sit out here much longer, they’ll get soaked.

The street lights flicker. Once, then twice. Then they shut off for a minute, before turning back on.

“We should really head back inside.” James says, leaning towards his friend. He hardly even notices when Louis pulls away, his gaze drawn by something else.

With the weather worsening, the two boys make a break for the building, slipping in alongside a group of other students coming in from the rain. The two students take a seat on the bleachers towards the far end of the room, picking a seat at the very top.

Again, the lights flicker. It's more quick this time. But the inevitable scream of someone caught off guard catches his attention.

James lifts his head up just enough to see that the scoreboard has turned blank. It’s more of a minor inconvenience, than an actual problem, as the board was simply keeping a countdown of the team’s warmups. Still, the team‘s coach looks a bit irritated that the count was lost.

Louis lunges to the side, and seizes James' hoodie, muttering: "didyoufuckingseethat?!"

"See what?" His head whips from side to side.

From his pocket, Louis seizes his phone, flipping it open and snapping a picture. The flash rings throughout the entire gym. A certain silence falls over the crowd, and several people ask "who did that?"

It's the strangest thing. There's a brief shadow, as if someone is standing against the far wall of the gym. On second glance, nothing is there.

The feeling of impending doom settles upon James’ shoulders, threatening to crush him with it. It's such a sudden, gut wrenching feeling, in stark contrast to how things were hardly a moment ago. The only thing he can compare it to is one of those cheesy ghost hunting shows, where they describe a chill spot, assuming a spirit must be nearby.

His mother would hate it when he’d watch those shows, saying they’d rot his brain. That was always strange. She wasn’t superstitious—not in the way your grandparents were—but she refused to let him watch those shows, and even went so far as to block certain channels because of them.

Standing in the circle in the center of the gym—or maybe he should say floating—is a being of pure malice. A spirit. A wisp of hate and anger so condensed it makes James nauseous. It's kind of a greenish color, but so deep that it appears black. The air around it warps like it's some great source of heat. It slithers a bit closer—that's the only word for it, “slither”— pausing at the edge of the circle.

It's… a soul. That's the only word for it: the very essence of a being. This one is made of such hatred that he can feel it radiating off of it.

Such a thing can't be human…

"I see it too." James says.

The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It's like being stalked by something. But it's been so long since humans weren't apex predators, that such a sense has fallen into disuse, only to linger in the back of a person’s mind. Something yet to be taken out by years of evolution.

From beside him, James can feel the older boy trembling. "C'mon, we're going to the occult club." Louis says. "They've gotta know what the fuck that was."

"But my mom- I can't stay any later!"

"You're already grounded," Louis says, "what's she gonna do? Ground you twice?"

"Yes!"

The two boys are stopped by a woman; the school’s Algebra teacher. She's posted at the gym doors, likely to prevent students from sneaking out, or hiding under the bleachers.

“Where are you two going?” She asks.

James groans, and clutches his stomach.

“He uh- ate something bad during lunch,” Louis says. “I'm taking him to the bathroom so he doesn't puke everywhere.”

She stares at the two, likely deciding whether or not it's worth it to stop them, and possibly have to clean up vomit. A moment later she steps away from the door, waving the two boys through.

They pass by the bathrooms, rounding a corner in the hall, before finding the stairwell.

The occult club is hosted in the second floor English classroom, and hosted by one student. At its largest, it only ever had ten members. As of right now, it has about six, two of which are busy with the upcoming sports season. There's much debate on whether or not the club should be disbanded for its activities by parents. But generally, it's allowed to exist without much opposition.

Though the lights are off, the door is unlocked. The boys are met by another two students—members of this club—a set of twins: a brother and sister. Both are juniors, but small enough to be confused for freshman. Neither are ever seen far from the other. Their names are Cal and Mal. James isn't quite sure which one is Cal, and which one is Mal. and they certainly don't clarify.

The girl is the first to acknowledge them, glancing up from her book.

"The gym’s haunted." Says Louis. James swings his fist into his shoulder. The older boy clutches his arm, glaring back at his friend.

It's as if a switch has been flipped. The girl visibly perks up, and there's a glint to her eye that makes James uneasy.

She shoves her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose, sniffing, "I have just the thing!"

From a cupboard behind her, she produces what looks to be a board game. It's a tan-ish brown color, with a black border. There's a blue Hasbro logo in the top right hand corner. The box itself doesn't look very old, but it's quite dusty. On the front, in old looking lettering, is the word "ouija"

"A Ouija board?" James asks.

"Yes!" She says, slamming the planchette down on the table. "We're going to contact this evil spirit!"

"There's at least three movies that show exactly why that's a bad idea," James says. Probably more.

"Don't be a wuss," Louis says, his voice cracking on the last word.

"Louis don't do this to me," pleads James, "my grandparents didn't drag me to church for nearly a decade just for me to do this!"

"Yeah I know about your mom's freaky angel statues,” Louis says, “don't be a pussy.”

“We need salt,” says the boy, “there should be some in that cabinet over there—” he points to a cupboard above the sink, “—we need to make a protection circle.”

“A what?” James asks.

His question is ignored. From the cabinet above the sink, Louis pulls out a container of kosher salt. The boy takes it, choosing a group of desks pushed together to pour a circle of salt around.

"Did you know a girl committed suicide in the locker rooms back in the 80's?" The girl asks. Her voice is far too cheery for the topic at hand. "I've been trying to contact her spirit ever since! So far I've been unsuccessful, but I have reason to believe that the evil spirit you saw was her!"

"That seems… I dunno… disrespectful?" James says, scratching his head. “Shouldn't you be trying to put her spirit to rest, not instigate her more?”

“Now how are we supposed to do that?” She asks.

You tell me! James wants to say. But for the time being, he keeps his mouth shut.

“Keep your hand on the planchette no matter what,” the boy says.

“And stay inside the salt circle or you’ll regret it,” the girl adds. “You don't want to invite anything to join us.”

Somehow that sentence is far more terrifying than anything else about this situation. As a skeptic, James doesn't put much faith into the supernatural. Or faith. He prefers things he can see.

The four students crowd around a desk. A circle is drawn around them out of salt. The blinds are shut, plunging them into the dark. The only source of light in the room is from the computer monitors. It's a ghostly blue type of glow, and certainly not bright enough to see well with.

“What do we do now?” Louis asks.

“We start asking questions,” says the boy, “now is someone here with us?”

When the planchette moves over to the word “yes” on the board, the student assumes someone is messing with him. James laughs, and stands. The girl reaches out, seizing him by the collar of his hoodie, and yanks him back down.

“What did I say about staying in the circle?!” She hisses. “Sit down!”

She’s a lot stronger than she looks. James doesn't have any other option but to comply.

This time, the planchette moves away from the word “Yes”, settling on the board’s logo. James is quick to shrug it off, blaming it on either of the twins. It can't be Louis. He’d know if it was him.

“Did you used to be a student at this school?” She asks.

The planchette moves to the word “no”.

The temperature in the room drops by at least ten degrees. Though the heat is on, and none of the windows are open, James finds himself shivering.

“What's your name?”

The planchette shoots over to the letter “f”. This time it moves so violently that the boys lose their grip on it. Only the girl remains holding it, until it starts shaking, and she jumps back like it's hot to the touch.

F? Like Francis. Or Frank. Or… there aren't that many names that start with the letter f.

The planchette begins moving on it's own, without anyone’s hands to guide it. U. C. K. Y. O. U.

There it is again, that weight on his shoulders. James can feel the boy next to him flinch as the lights flicker.

“Oh so this ghost thinks he’s so fucking funny.” Louis says. “Fuck you too man!” He holds up his middle finger, motioning around the room.

A book that was sitting on the counter, right beside the sink, comes flying off, and across the room. It lands against a set of filing cabinets with a loud resounding “thunk!”

“Don't insult it!” Scolds James. “I don't wanna see this thing pissed off!”

“Too late,” the girl says, “it's right behind you.”

There's a loud crash! as she falls from her chair, clasping her hand over her eye, and screams. It's a horrible, pained scream. Like something straight out of a horror movie. The gravity of the situation doesn't settle in until something dark begins pouring out from between her fingers.

Louis is the next to move, throwing himself over her body. His mouth opens as if he’s about to say something, but nothing comes out.The sound of her whimpering is hardly audible over his own heartbeat.

Gouges appear in the tile floor, carved out by this unseen force. Claws. He doesn't know what else to call it. The room is filled with the awful sound of metal screeching on concrete. James watches them grow slowly closer, and closer, before rolling to the side—out of the salt circle—and jumping to his feet.

It's human in shape, and bipedal, but it's proportions are slightly… off. It's legs are too long, arms hang too low, neck too thin. Like a person's shadow when the sun is low in the sky. And when the student senses it, he freezes.

A slimy, slithering feeling moves across his neck. That feeling of doom only doubles. James wants to curl up there, and wait for his inevitable fate. Fear leaves him too paralyzed to do anything but watch. Cold hands move across his body, holding him in place.

Scooping up a handful of salt, Louis hurls it at James, and that slithering feeling disappears. It's as if those invisible hands have released him, and he’s stumbling forward. His hands plunge into that cold slimy feeling, and something starts churning in his stomach.

It's as if he's doing this by instinct. James lets all his fear—his anger—pool in his heart, and course down into his hands.

“You can see this thing, right?!” James asks.

“Yeah!” Answers Louis.

“Good,” he says, “now tell me where it is.”

“What?!”

“I've got an idea. Just trust me.”

“Saying 'trust me' does not make me want to trust you man,” Louis says, “but it's heading towards the left. You’ve got about three feet between you and it.”

“Your left or my left?!”

“My left!”

James swings his fist in an arc. He’s met with a feeling akin to plunging his hand in a bowl of jello. A direct hit. All that negative energy courses down his arm, into this spirit. It's as if a bomb has gone off while James was still holding it. A sizable chunk of the creature is blasted away, splattering Louis with foul smelling blood.

Surely all the noise is enough to draw the attention of another student, or even a teacher. If someone does hear, they don't come in to check.

That feeling of impending doom is overwhelming. It settles into James’ limbs, and weighs down his shoulders. Such a weight threatens to crush him under it, as if he’s Atlas holding the world atop his head.

There's a rush of cold air. A binder that was sitting open on one of the tables comes flying off, and across the room, filling the air with a cloud of papers.

In the resulting chaos, this spirit is able to slip away. Another few seconds tick by as the papers settle. And once they do, the spirit is gone.

There's not many places it could have gone. Both doors to the classroom are closed, and the only closet in the room is missing it's door. Maybe it slipped between some filing cabinets. But it's unlikely. Hell, maybe it ducked into one of the vents. If it really is a ghost, it probably won't adhere to the floor plan of the school.

James is on his feet in an instant, bursting through the door. Then he’s screaming. About nothing in particular—all of it blends together. At some point he starts calling for help.

The human mind has a way of blocking out traumatic memories. It's an attempt to protect the body from further trauma. Whether or not it's much help tends to vary from case to case. But in the long run—not to oversimplify it—it leaves a person with the unshakable feeling that something is off.

“It's back!” Louis shouts.

“Where is it this time?!”

“To your right—it’s up against the wall.”

James swings—and misses. This time his fist cuts through nothing but air. The force of his weight carries him into the wall.

The older boy screams much like he's been hurt. He makes it about two steps, before his knees hit the ground, and he lands square on his side.

It slithers back off into the shadows, disappearing as silently as it first appeared.

Louis' eyes are half shut, his fingers laced across his stomach. The front of his shirt has been stained dark with blood. There's an awful smell in the air: blood and vomit. It punctured his stomach.

The wound should be there. James should be able to see the torn flesh. He sees the blood, and the rip in his shirt. But his skin is clean. He doesn't register the sight in front of him, until someone is shaking him—the gym teacher. His mouth is moving, but James doesn’t process a single word of it.

He’s not sure what the media called it. Or if there was even a story about it in the news at all. Perhaps somewhere out there, there's a newspaper clipping about a strange, seemingly supernatural stabbing happening at his small high school, buried away in an archive somewhere. He never turned it up. Not even after years of searching. Maybe jujutsu society tried to cover it up. But he doubts it—why go through all the trouble? Maybe the circumstances were so odd that nobody believed them. That seems more plausible—that it was brushed under the rug, and deemed to be some sort of hysteria, or blamed on the four students being high.

Because who is going to care about the death of a boy like him in such a small town? Not when they can paint him as a delinquent—make him out to be a bad kid. One that would hide behind the school to smoke and skip class. Somehow twist it to be his fault, and soon sweep this entire mess aside.

That's what made him think jujutsu higher ups were involved—how quickly things were covered up. It's suspicious how quickly a town so small forgot about such a thing.

Perhaps everything was doomed from the start. And his fate was not something to be changed. If it's all set in stone from the start, then what is the point? Why try if no matter what you do, nothing changes?

It felt like a black mark against his soul. Something that would cling to him until the end of time.

An invisible weight settles onto his shoulders, threatening to bring him down with it. And as he stares at the red string around his friend's finger, he wishes for nothing more than it to connect to his own.

To have and to hold. To crash and to burn. Love is truly the most twisted curse of them all.

#jjk #jjk x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #kinda?#i mean technically yeah but also like hes not mentioned in this chapter so ksjhdfkjdshkjhd #blood ties

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2manyfandoms2count · 3 years

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Sleepless in Paris

I ended up not posting anything Ladrien in June when I'd planned to do something, but then I saw the last prompt of @ladrienjune (Speechless), and since it tied in with an idea I had a couple of weeks ago... Here you go!

Established Ladrien, Adrien receives a text from his girlfriend and overthinks its meaning. Thankfully Ladybug comes and clears things up.

Loosely based on a quote from Le Discours, a novel by Fabrice Caro.

Read on AO3

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Adrien, we need to talk.

Adrien read the message over and over again, like an overworked student stuck on a paragraph whose meaning just won’t register.

He tossed his phone aside and lied back down, rubbing his eyes as he did so.

Oh, how much he regretted ever getting Ladybug a private phone so they could communicate. It had seemed like a good idea after their third close call, when she had almost swung into his room like she owned the place (and maybe she did, she was his girlfriend, after all, anything was possible), in the middle of an impromptu piano recital his father had requested. Thankfully, the false notes he’d made upon seeing her almost crash into the window had covered any sound she’d made as she changed course, and made sure his father and Nathalie’s attention was on him, and not on the red blur just outside.

She’d laughed so prettily when she’d unwrapped the box and noticed that he’d painted little black dots on the back of the red phone case. She’d insisted on paying him back in kisses and sweet nothings. Even if he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to refuse; his girlfriend was convincing like that.

Yes. Those had been the good old days.

The ones when the messages he received from her didn’t come as a blow that made his stomach tie into knots and question if he was going to be okay (although that might not have been entirely true; the feeling he’d gotten when he’d read “I love you” on his screen, written down, not just whispered between two makeout sessions or before she left, a permanent trace of her feelings, could definitely have fit that description, but the difference was that he’d questioned if he was in heaven, then).

The timestamp of the message read Monday, 4:36pm. He’d managed to type a “when?” at 5:58pm, which she’d seen at 5:59pm. Nothing since. That was new, too. Even messages that didn’t require an answer always got at least a couple of emojis in reply.

It was now Tuesday, 6:12am, and he hadn’t slept a wink, dissecting the five words, twenty characters, like they were a long lost spell that could fix hunger on Earth.

The first thing he’d noticed was the full stop. That didn’t bode well - even he knew that nobody ended a text like that these days.

Then, the comma. A pause. Not great either, in the context of a relationship.

Especially when it came before a “we need to talk”. He didn’t need to have seen many romantic comedies to know that this was probably an end of the line warning.

Even his name was a sign.

Adrien.

Not “my prince”. Not “my love”. Not even “my Adrien”, like she’d taken to calling him recently. Just plain old boring Adrien . Until the message had arrived, he hadn’t realised they’d been on a downward slope, but maybe he’d been too busy burying his head in the sand to notice. Maybe deep down, he’d known that it wasn’t viable.

That Ladybug, basically a goddess among men, had no business being in a relationship with a commoner like him, however much she tried to fool herself by calling him her prince. Adrien. The more he read it, the more emphasis he put on the second syllable. Ad- rien . Ad rien. Towards nothing. Maybe she’d known they were doomed from the start, that they had no future, but she’d tried anyway.

Maybe he was reading too much into it and the lack of sleep was making him delirious.

Whatever the outcome, he supposed they’d had a good run. He’d cherish all of the moments they’d spent together.

Actually, he thought, sitting up again, maybe that was what she needed. Maybe he could change her mind if he reminded her of all their good memories. There was no way she couldn’t be convinced, or at least persuaded, by his plea. He hadn’t gone six months playing a double game of putting on a fake insensitivity mask over the one he wore with Chat Noir's to avoid her seeing through him, when she deserved to be showered in compliments at every moment of the day, for it to end this way.

He loved her.

He picked up his phone again and pressed the dial button.

One tone. Two tones. Three.

Adrien suddenly remembered the time, hastily hung up, and facepalmed audibly, making Plagg roll over in his sleep and hiss.

“Sorry,” he whispered, before turning his attention back to the phone.

If his call hadn’t woken her up, then his mistake would be the first thing she’d see when she did.

This was bad. It wasn’t like he could go delete the evidence. He didn’t know where she lived, and since he doubted that she slept while transformed, there was no way to track her. Which would also be bad, he reminded himself, but maybe this emergency would justify it.

Anyway, he couldn't cry over spilt milk, but maybe he could escape. Just move somewhere, preferably on the other side of the world. He could change his life, his name (actually, could that alone change the outcome of their relationship? If he changed it before planning anything, could they pick up as if nothing happened, and would the timeline be fixed? He wished he’d thought about it before calling her), and raise hamsters in the mountains. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, right? And then he could live happily ever after in the sweet, sweet illusion that despite them being miles apart, he still lived in a world in which he was Ladybug’s boyfriend.

He didn’t know if he preferred the idea of her never coming after him, or her seeking him out, even if it was to deliver bad news, but it didn’t really matter. The plan sounded good. Foolproof.

He hopped off of his bed and pulled a suitcase out of his closet. He’d always wondered why his father stored them there when it really seemed like an unnecessary temptation, but at least it was useful now.

If he was to start over somewhere, he needed to leave Adrien behind. The guy was a train wreck anyway, but unfortunately for him, a train wreck people would want to find, when he just wanted to be left alone to mope.

No more white shirts, then. They were too recognisable. He found a collection of dark hoodies at the back of the closet and stuffed them in the bag, along with t-shirts (they’d be hidden under his hoodie so he could keep those), a pair of jeans and some shorts.

He came back into his room and put his suitcase on his bed, scanning his surroundings for other essentials. His eyes landed on the fencing cup he kept his Ladybug pictures in. He’d definitely need those. It would help maintain him in his illusion. He also needed his Ladybug pyjamas, which he kept hidden since he wasn’t sure his father would approve of them. They’d be perfect for his new life.

Plagg stirred on his pillow. Before Adrien could ask himself whether it was reasonable for the small god to come with him, there was a knock on the window, and he froze. He turned around slowly; Ladybug stood in the window frame, looking glorious in the soft dawn light. He noticed she was holding a small paper bag in her left hand. He was sure it could fit everything he’d ever gotten her.

“Going somewhere?” She frowned, hopping inside before he could even move.

Adrien stared at her, before guessing he’d better bite the bullet. “Well I just figured I’d rather not stick around if you’re going to break up with me.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

He watched her face fall and started to doubt his conclusion.

“Break up with…” she muttered slowly, as if tasting the words, before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Adrien, we need to talk.” He airquoted. “I get it, it’s fine. I’m-”

“Adrien, I’m not here to break up with you. At all.” She shook her head again and took a step forward. “What would make you think that?”

“Adrien, first of all,” he stated.

“Your name?...” She tilted her head inquisitively.

“You used to call me my Adrien. Or sweeter stuff.” He pointed out.

“Oh Kwami.” She shook her head, trying to repress a smile, although the blond didn’t notice.

“And then don’t think I didn’t notice you being less present lately.” He waved a finger at her, feeling himself blush. He knew his accusation was a tad hypocritical; sure, their date hangouts in the previous few weeks had been less frequent than they’d been at the beginning of their relationship, when she’d drop in practically every day, but they’d also been full of Akumas and photoshoots, what with his father’s new collection dropping. She’d managed to beat him to his room most days, hanging out around the windows as she waited, which had made it very difficult for him to sneak back in.

But on the occasions they had seen each other, she’d also seemed more lost in her thoughts than usual. Nervously wringing her hands together while they chilled in front of a movie, despite him soothingly raking his fingers through her hair. Being even more elusive about what was going on in her life, if that was possible. Looking at him with determination in her eyes, opening her mouth to speak, only to close it and shake her head with a sigh.

“I’m really sorry about that, my love .” She gave him a pointed look as she took his hand. “I’ve just been thinking a lot lately, about you, me, our relationship. How, you’re right, it might seem like we’re spending less time together to you , but…” she trailed off, biting her lip.

“How could that statement have a but ?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, um, I had this sort of crazy idea, because we’ve only been dating for six months and it’s totally not like I ever imagined us getting married and having three kids and a hamster or anything…” she mumbled nervously, and Adrien felt his heart flutter in his chest. “Anyway, I’ve been trying to get a hold of Chat Noir all night to check that he approves the idea, and also because I feel like it’s kind of an unspoken agreement that unless it’s an emergency and it really feels right, we’d do this together first, but he’s not replying and I was awake and you were awake and I thought…”

“Okay my… Lovebug, breathe.” Adrien’s caring boyfriend instinct kicked in as her rambling gave him confirmation that their relationship wasn’t in immediate danger, and he placed his hands on her shoulders, taking a deep breath to show the example. She mirrored him, and they breathed in sync for a couple of cycles, until he was satisfied that she’d stopped hyperventilating. He lead her to his couch and helped her sit down.

“Croissant?” she asked shyly, presenting him with the bag she’d brought. A pastry bag. Not a bag with his belongings. He really needed to stop jumping to conclusions.

“You know me so well.” He smiled brightly as he took one of the baked goods. They were still warm. The croissant didn’t last long in his hands. “Anyway,” he gulped down the last bite, “if you don’t mind me asking, what was your miraculous idea?” He smiled at himself, proud of his pun.

“Well, I was thinking that I could reveal my identity to you,” Ladybug replied, daintily wiping the corners of her mouth with a tissue.

It was a good thing Adrien was already sitting down, else more than his jaw would have ended up on the floor.

“Your… Your identity. Reveal. To me.” He asked seriously, hoping his words would make sense to her. It was better than remaining speechless.

“Yes, I am considering it,” she laughed. The sound made his brain tangle even more.

“Why?” He croaked.

“Well, as I said, it would enable us to spend more time together.” He raised his eyebrows, but she didn’t elaborate. “And I don’t know, I feel like it would be right. You’ve got something, Adrien.” She smiled tenderly.

“I… I do?” He felt himself blush.

“It’s just a croissant crumb, there, let me get it for you.” She leaned forwards and kissed the corner of his mouth. The contact jump started his brain.

“Ladybug, this is serious.” He backed away slightly. “Why me?”

“Fine.” She sighed. “Well, you're my boyfriend, but I know you a lot better than you might think. Before you say anything, no, I can’t tell you why yet, I need to speak to Chat Noir first. But there is something about you, Adrien. I feel like I can trust you. With this. Because of course I trust you otherwise.”

Adrien looked down at his hands and twiddled his thumbs, pouting as he thought.

“Adr- Sunshine? Is everything alright?” Ladybug placed a concerned hand on his thigh when his silence stretched to a slightly uncomfortable length.

“When you talk to Chat Noir, and he agrees to your plan…” He looked up and met her gaze.

“If,” she corrected him, but he waved her interruption away.

“...Will you guys reveal your identities to each other? Will you ask Chat Noir who he is under the mask?” He felt almost feverish as he searched her eyes for a hint of the answer before she could speak.

“Um, yes, I guess that’s how I saw the discussion going.” Ladybug frowned. “Are you concerned that it will change our relationship somehow? Because I promise it won’t, I-”

“Oh Bluebell, it definitely will, but not in the way that you think.” Adrien pecked her lips, a mischievous smile spreading on his as he pulled away.

“Oh?” Ladybug blinked a couple of times. Adrien tried to hide his smugness at her speechlessness.

“Yep. You see, I’m one hundred percent paw-sitive your dearest partner will agree to your plan.” He grinned, watching the realisation dawn on her face.

“How hard was refraining from making cat puns in the past six months?” Ladybug finally sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Very, my Lady.” He pouted. "But not as hard as refraining from kissing you on patrol."

“Maybe you can help him pay up all the Camembert he owes me for sitting through him ranting about all the missed opportunities,” Plagg called out, making her jump slightly. Adrien rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, you were right, your plan really will allow us to spend more time together!” His face lit up like a kid's on Christmas morning.

“You don’t know the half of it.” Ladybug shook her head, before looking back up at him, an indecipherable look on her face. “Need a lift for school?”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?” Adrien looked at his girlfriend with kitten eyes, disappointed that she hadn’t held up her side of the bargain.

“Well, it’s time to go if you don’t want to be caught by your bodyguard.” She shrugged, stood up, and extended a hand toward him, the twinkle in her eye the only tell in her poker face.

“Ladybug…” He whined, pouting.

“What, Chaton?” Her smile finally broke free. “It’s very literally on my way. I can drop you off at your seat, and then walk to mine… Right behind you.” She booped him on the nose.

Once again, Adrien was thankful he was already sitting down.

As she carried him to school, Adrien decided sleep was overrated. Sometimes reality was the best dream of all.

#ladrienjune #miraculous ladybug #the miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #mlb #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #ladrien #ladybug #adrien agreste #day 30: speechless #identity reveal #established ladrien #elle writes

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gay-salt-amber · 3 years

Text

Where the hell is Kenma?!

Yuri on Ice x Haikyuu crossover

Just so you know, all the figure skaters kids are close with the other skaters so they consider ever skater they're close with family so the whole uncle aunt thing is just a friend thing

warnings: Gay, swearing, etc

Ships: leoji, yakulev, minotayuri

Пока= bye

All Russian is google translated

For the parents the kids will just be calling them by their names unless one parents is without the others then they will be called dad so it doesn't get confusing

Kenma pov

It was 10 alcock at night and I was up playing my video games as usual with Hinata, Lev and some other friends. We were playing a game that was a collaboration between Nerf and Xbox, it was quite good. Not my favorite shooter of all time but it was alright. When the match was over and the 20 second map and round type selection started, my phone rang. I was on a discord call with my friends so they saw the phone going up to my ear. Right when I was about to answer Lev spoke up,

"Who is it?" He asked

"Georgi."

"Popovich?"

"Yeah."

"Who's this Georgi?" Hinata seemed confused but curious.

"Just a family friend of ours." I answered, I don't wanna go into me and Lev being legally related right now.

"Oh, cool!"

I looked down at my phone and unlocked it to see the messages, "I might need to not play this round for a bit I need to respond to these texts." I said

The rest of them agreed and I went back to the messages.

---

Georgi: I was just wanting to remind you that the plane leaves at 7, so get some sleep kid.

Kenma: Thanks uncle Georgi, I'll try.

Georgi: Do you want us to bring the Russian team bus to pick you up from your house?

Kenma: Sure when are yall getting here?

Georgi: 6 prolly, depends on how long Lila and Yakov wanna take. Old asses -w-

Kenma: pfft xD

Kenma: Anyway, I need to get back to my friends see you later.

Georgi: K, get some sleep, my favorite nephew ☆⌒(*＾-゜)v

----

I unmuted my mic on the call and spoke after like 5 minutes

"Back, hows the round going?"

I didn't hear my dear Shoyo but instead Lev, "Good, Hinata got tired though and had to leave."

When I was about to say I needed to leave to, Lev spoke again,

"Oh yeah! You should get going, you don't wanna miss the flight!"

Once I exited the game I turned back to my monitor that had discord and moved it back to my main monitor, "I was about to say that."

"Пока" I said, my Russian feeling a little rusty.

"Пока Kenma!"

Pressing the 'end call' button made me sigh with relief, standing up, I walked over to my closet and grabbed some clothes for a shower before bed. I grabbed some long, loose black pants and a old Russian figure skating team shirt that one of my dads got me. While I was walking to the bathroom I was looking through some notes for class and deleted stuff I didn't need since I was going to be in an entire different country for a while.

I got out of the shower, dried my hair and put on my clothes. Once I got to the door, I looked into the mirror and I had an idea, 'Should I put my hair in braids so it'll look wavy tomorrow? Yeah that'll look nice!' I reached over and grabbed two small clear hair ties and put my hair into two braids.

I finally opened the bathroom door and walked back to my room to call it a night and sleep. Once I reached my room I noticed something, "You mother fucker.." I didn't pack my bags for the fucking trip. I whipped out my phone and thought of who I could message, we were gonna be in a bunch of places for skating and I wanted to check for how long, but guess what?! I don't know whos awake!

Right when I was about to wing it, I remembered its like 9 in the morning for Leo de la Iglesia, who is an American skater which I consider family. I guessed he would be up since he and Guang-Hong Ji, his boyfriend typically wake up at 7 to eat breakfast and go on a run together, virtually since they live in different countries but I guess they try. It took a while to find this name in my contacts since my phone doesn't really sort through who I texted recently but instead it sorts alphabetically the only time I would see his name at the top is if I had an unread message from him, which I don't. I kept scrolling reading off the letters as I went. H,I,J,K....

I finally got to L and found his name since I only have like 3 people whos name start with L in my contacts, I opened it and cringed at the date of the last sent message, 'June 1st' which was a happy pride month message. My fingers tapped on the message bar and I started typing quickly.

------

Kenma: Hey uncle Leo ヾ(•ω•`)o

Kenma: Ik this is a weird time to text since I should be sleeping but, you're the only one awake.

Leo: Ey Kozume! 💅 What do you need?

Kenma: I was wanting to know how long the competitions are gonna be , I forgot to pack soo...

Leo: Ah! Well you're going to be on the trip for a week and Georgi's gonna take you back to Japan the Monday afterwards

Kenma: I- Isn't it longer then that? (⊙_⊙)？

Leo: Yes but we know that Neko-

Kenma: Nekoma?

Leo: How ever the fuck you spell your schools name 😑

Leo: Anyway, we know you have a game against Karasuno the next day and we know you would wanna play in that sooo...

Kenma: Cool, thanks.

Leo: Np, see you in America (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

----

Once I was done snickering to myself at Leo and I's conversation, I walked over to my clothes drawers and got out the clothes I wanted, one formal outfit, some pj's and some casual stuff. I put that stuff in one suitcase and put my miscellaneous stuff in a smaller drawstring bag that had a bunch of video game pins on it. I walked downstairs to put my stuff by the door and when I got there I saw someone come in, it were my dads, Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin and Minami Kenjiro.

I walked up and hugged all 3 of them, "Hey kiddo."

Since I decided to say screw sleep and talk to my parents which is something I didn't get to do much at this time of the year often since they have practice all the time. So we sat on the couch and had dinner while watching tv as a family and talked about their practice

Yuri chirped up while eating some rice, "Mila was being a bitch."

"Oh? What happened?" I asked

"So you know her kid Tendō?"

Minami put his chopsticks down and joined in the conversation, "He's that kid that goes to Shiratorizawa Academy right?"

"So, he's gonna be joining the Russian team since the he doesn't like the Italian team."

"Yet his uncle and other mom is on that team." Otabek pointed out

"Yeah."

"I don't get how she was being a bitch?" I said, trying to get the conversation back to the main point,

"Her ass was bragging about all practice, like shit I couldn't get 2 fucking works out without her interrupting."

We all laughed, and went back to eating.

After we were finished we all were doing the dishes, "Go upstairs and get some sleep kiddo, I'll do the rest of the dishes. Yuri, go get some rest too." Minami said

"Are you not going to America, Beka?" Yuri asked.

The black haired boy shrugged, "No, for some reason my couch decided I'm not going, I don't know why."

Minami was another one of my dads who was staying home, ever since they adopted me when I was 4 he always declined going to any skating competitions that weren't in Japan so that if I ever had an emergency someone would always be there. This meant that only me and Yuri, my blonde, sassy, Russian dad were going to America for the 3 back to back skating events that were happening there.

"I wonder why Lev's not going.."

"Your school doesn't want you both out when a game is so close." Otabek was right I still thought it was stupid since he was looking forward to this event, he's always wanted to go to America after all. But as compromise I promised to send him a lot of photos.

Minami who was still washing the dishes started shoving us out of the kitchen, "Yeah yeah, cut the chat get your butts upstairs and I don't wanna see you two down here until morning!" He said, waving a wooden spoon in the air as we walked up the stairs, laughing.

We reached the upstairs, both of my dads gave me a kiss on the forehead and wished me a good night. I walked into my room and instantly my tiredness from earlier came back to wack me in the face with 5 times the strength of before. I walked over to my bed and just.. flopped.

--In the morning--

My alarm for 5:30 went off and I got up, still tired but meh, nothing a bit of coffee wont fix. I walked over to my closet and got out a hoodie Shoyo gave me, it was a Karasuno hoodie with Shoyo's name and volleyball number, 10 on the back. I inhaled the scent of my lover. I'm gonna miss him but I still can call him. I grabbed a thin t-shirt to wear underneath and some soft black pants with red on the side, after I grabbed my clothes I walked to the bathroom and got changed. After that I took my braids out, my hair looked great!

When I left the bathroom right when I put my foot on the first step to head downstairs the scent of waffles hit my nose, I started to go quicker down the stairs since I fucking love waffles and I am starving! Once I got there Minami greeted me.

"Hey kiddo, did you sleep good?"

"Yeah." I nodded

"Are your other dads not up yet?"

"Nah." I shook my head getting out a plate.

"Before you eat imma wake them up."

I rubbed my forehead before sighing, "Oh god what are you planning, pops?"

"Nothing, let me just..." After finicking with his phone I heard a blast of noise from my parents room and the line I knew too well of "WELCOME TO THE MADNESS" blasted through the door. After like 2 seconds they were up and downstairs.

"You get creative when it comes to waking us up." Otabek yawned while Yuri wiped his eyes.

"I know, glad you're finally catching on~" Minami said, getting sassy, which he normally was this early in the morning.

"What'd you make for breakfast?" I asked.

"Apple waffles!"

I ran to the counter happily, grabbing like 3 fucking waffles.. What can I say? I love apple things!

"Goddamn! Leave some for us!" Yuri teased

"Nah~" I joked back.

When we had just finished our food, we were setting our dishes into the sink and just chatting, we heard a knock on the door. I turned to the clock, '6:00' almost on the dot. "Man when they say they'll be here at 6, they aren't kidding." Otabek said, looking at the bus through the window.

I snickered and got my shoes on, me and Yuri grabbed our suitcases and after my adopted dad kissed my other dads, we were out the door and on the bus. I stopped to talk to Mila whom was driving while Yuri went to go sit in the back by himself.

I tapped the red head on the shoulder, "Hey Mila can we make a stop before we go to the airport?"

She grinned "Yeah, of course, the flight was delayed a half hour anyway for whatever fucking reason."

"Ok, can we stop at Karasuno I uh.. Wanna see someone before we leave.."

Mila let out a quiet gasp before whispering, "Is this the boy you've been talking about?"

I nodded and Mila laughed, "Sure, I don't see why not!"

I gave a light smile and went to go sit down.

--When they stopped at Karasuno, Hinata pov--

"We aren't doing anything special today, hell do what you want if you wanna sit and chat do that, I am giving you a free day before we practice for our match against Nekoma." Couch Ukai explained

We all nodded with a 'yes couch' coming out of all us.

Me and Yamaguchi stayed chatting when our long haired ace, Asahi came in, "Sorry I'm late but there's a bus outside that says, 'Russian Figure Skating Team' outside for whatever reason."

"I wonder why..." I brushed it off though and continued talking to Yams

We kept talking before I heard a familiar voice, "Shoyo? Are you here?"

"Kenma!" I exclaimed before I jumped up and ran to give him a hug which almost knocked him over in the process.

"Hi Shoyo, its good to see you."

"What are you doing here?" I asked, releasing the hug and just holding his hands and I spoke again

"I mean there's a weird bus that says Russian Figure Skating Team or something outside but why are you here?"

"That's my ride." Kenma answered plainly.

"That's your- WHAT!" I was surprised and the others came over

Kenma laughed, "That's why I came here, I wanted to let you know I'm going to be gone for a week."

"Why? Did something happen?" Suga asked from the back

"No, no! I'm going to skate in America, I'll be back for our game though." His answer made me more curious

Noya's voice rang from the right, "When are you leaving?"

"Around 7:30, our plane got delayed but I get to talk with you more, right Shoyo?"

I was about to sit down when the door swung open and there stood someone who looked a bit like Kenma, but different colored eyes and plain blonde hair

"I'm hanging out in here with you kid."

"Yakov being annoying?"

"да ебать его задницу!"

"Who are you sir?" Asked Asahi who was putting away the few volleyballs that were used since most of the team was chatting, it was a free day after all

"This is Yuri Plisetsky, my dad." Kenma explained

"Cool."

I tilted my head, wondering what he said, I knew it was Russian just based on context but I didn't know what, "What was that you were saying?"

"He said, "yeah fuck his ass" My blonde boyfriend translated

"Ooh."

"Well before we go might as well do this," Kenma sighed as he held my hand tighter,

"Dad, this is my boyfriend, Shoyo." Kenma looked nervous.

"As long as he treats you well, then I don't care."

"W-wait that's it?!" Kenma seemed surprised

Yuri clutched his chest in laughter, "I-I'm sorry! Just.."

"Are you forgetting who I am?"

"What?"

"Kiddo, I am a trans gay man who has been married with 2 other men in a poly relationship for 2 years now, what'd you want me to say?"

Hinata looked surprised but also relived, "Really? That's so cool!"

Yuri looked at me and rolled his eyes and messaged the bridge of his nose, "Really? You went for the fanboy?"

"Dad, you're married to one."

"Meh, true."

We were talking for a while longer with me just being lovey as usual when someone else walked through the door and yelled "ITS JJ STYLE!" Which Yuri's dad looked pissed about

"I'll get him out give me a second."

"убирайся отсюда, канадский ебать!" Yuri yelled as he proceeded to shove the man I'm guessing named JJ out

"What'd he say?" I asked

"Get out of here you Canadian fuck."

"Oooh."

With that a new people entered, "Kozume!" A voice called,

"Hi Gramps."

"Whos this?" I questioned with my hand still on Kenma's

"That's my grandpa, Victor Katsuki-Nikiforov."

"That's so cool!"

Kenma blushed and just nodded,

"Does my grandson have a boyfriend~"

"Yep, this is Shoyo."

"So he's the one I keep hearing Chris say you brag about?"

"Mhm."

"We-"

Before Victor could continue I heard a slam

"Двигай своей задницей, черт возьми, свинья!" (Move your ass fucking pig!) And in came Yuri kicking another black haired boy in through the door.

"Yurio be nice you your mother!"

"HES NOT MY MOTHER! AND STOP CALLING ME YURIO!" He yelled back

Victor sighed, "Well we have 2 Yuri's here its confusing!"

The grey haired mans tone quickly changed, "Anyway~"

He helped Yuuri up and waltzed on back over to us, "Our grandson has a boyfriend!!!!"

"Awh that's great!"

"Aaand Shoyo, meet my other grandpa, Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov"

"It's nice to meet you."

We talked a bit before Yuuri spoke up,

"We should get going, the others probably wanna get coffee before we go to the airport."

"Oh, yeah, I guess so."

I was sad that they had to leave because Kenma noticed and his face softened because when they were getting up to leave, he gave me a soft kiss on the lips,

" I will call you every chance I get, Ok baby?"

"Alright, I'll see you next week at the game?"

"Yes, I love you."

"I love you too." Those were the last words I said to Kenma in person for a week.

When I turned around I heard someone yell, "KOZUME HAS A BOYFRIEND!"

Lev pov--

Kenma: We're having another fucking flight delay!

Lev: I still wish I could've gone with!

Kenma: I know, you were really wanting to come, right?

Lev: Ofc! I have always wanted to go to America! 😭😭😭

Kenma: Oof

Lev: Hold on the team is worried about you, give me a moment

Kenma: Gl Kuroos gonna be all like 'well why didn't I know?!' or some shit

Lev: mhm 😑

---

I turned off my phone and listened to the rest of the team freak out about the gamer boys missing

"WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?!" Yaku yelled out of panic

"Yaku, I am sure he's fine.." Yamamoto said, trying to keep the peace

"Well we don't know that! Hell! He didn't even tell me anything.." Kuroo was also pissed which just made me wanna chuckle since Kenma was right about Kuroos reaction.

"Uhm..."

"What Lev?"

"Well about Kenma being gone, I know where he is I just thought this was funny."

"So us worrying is funny?!"

"When I know why, yes."

Kuroo rolled his eyes, "Lev, Kenma never talks to you."

"Yes, yes he does, you don't know every fucking thing he does." I snapped.

"Are you sure?" Kuroo retorted

"Whos he dating?"

"I-"

"See you dont even know that"

"Fucking- Whatever just where is he?" Yaku asked

I held out my phone and showed the texts

"Where the hell is he going?! We have a game!"

"Yaku, please shut the fuck up." I whispered.

"What?!"

"Yaku I love you, but please shut the fuck up, he doesn't care about the game right now, he will be back for the game with Karasuno, but he is with family and doing something that will contribute to his future. Now shut up пожалуйста, перестань любопытствовать и дай ему жить!" (please stop prying and let him live!)

"..."

I took a step back, I swore my boyfriend out... I even yelled at him in Russian!

I felt like I wanted to cry, I didn't wanna snap like that.. Then I heard the door open

"HA I KNEW HE WOULD CUSS SOMEONE OUT! Виктор! ты должен мне 20 долларов!" (Victor you owe me 20) I turned to the voice,

"Oh praise god." I sighed

Yurio was walking up to me, "ты в порядке? ты выглядишь напряженным .." (are you okay? you look tense)

"Я огрызнулся на своего парня, и я устал, угадай" (I snapped at my boyfriend and I'm tired, guess)

"What are they saying.." Yaku was confused

"Well apologize you fuck!" Yurio scoffed

"..."

"Sorry sir, but Lev is fine, I was the one who deserved it."

"I'm still sorry!"

"Even better question! Lev, you can speak Russian!?" Kuroo seemed surprised

"Yeah, I just didn't wanna hear the, 'oh! Say my name in Russian' or, 'say something in Russian!' that gets annoying fast!"

"Oh, Beka has the same problem whenever he says he's from Kazakhstan."

"Anyway, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the airport with the rest of the Russian team."

"We would be in the sky by now is the plane would stop getting fucking delayed!"

"Well let the team rest in here! Its probably hot as fuck in that bus."

"Smartest thing you've said all day, Levochka." And with that he left

"And who was that?" Yaku's tone was serious so I beckoned the team over to the bench to explain

"So you know how I have left practice early?"

"Yes?"

"That's because I do figure skating and I am hoping to go into it full time when I am older and that person who was here a bit ago was a part of the Russian Figure Skating team."

"Nice!" Someone commented from the end of the bench

"Levochka!" A voice called,

"DAD!" I raced to meet the voice and gave a big hug to my father, Victor Nikiforov and gave my other dad, Yuri Katsuki a hug when he entered short after.

Yaku came up from behind, and kicked me, "YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOUR PARENTS WERE FAMOUS SKATERS YOU FUCK!"

Upon seeing that the Russian team was pissed, "Держи свои гребаные ноги от него, ублюдок размером с муравей!"

"I still don't know what yall are saying.."

A voice came from the back, "Georgi said, "Keep your fucking feet off him, ant-sized motherfucker" I recognized Kenma's voice quickly

"Ey! I thought you would stay on the bus!" Yurio called

"Well, I finished my level and I have nothing else to play until a few daily bonuses roll in."

"Kid you run through games like me and Lev run through a thing of pirozhkis.."

"Meh I keep myself entertained."

"KENMA?!" Kuroo called, ran up and started to shake the boy

"I WAS WORRIED WHY DIDNT YOU TELL US WHERE YOU WERE GOING?1"

"Because it doesn't concern you, besides its not like I'm gonna be gone forever.."

"Kozume I am your best friend! You tell your best friend this shit!"

"Uh..." Kenma stuttered

"What?! Is there anything else you wanna tell me?!"

"1: I don't owe you shit and 2: Lev and Shoyo are my best friends, Теперь слезай с высокой лошади, ты трахаешься" (Now get off the high horse, you fuck)

"That's my boy!" Yurio cheered

Yuuri shook his head and turned to me, "Anyway, Lev can we pull you and Yaku to the side we wanna talk to you two."

I nodded and grabbed Yaku's hand and we exited the gym with my dads

"Levochka.. Are you sure he's the one you want?" My dad asked gently

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you said that this was your boyfriend when we talked about it before but are you sure he is what you want? I mean he kicks you and gets physical it seems a lot. I just want for you to be safe." My dad explained.

Yaku looked nervous as my dead continued, "Hell even Yurio when we adopted him, was never physical with anyone who didn't deserve it.. Minus Yuuri but you get what I mean."

I grabbed Yaku's hand, "I know but Yaku's trying and that's all I can really ask.."

Yuuri started to talk "Lev please be safe." His face was one of worry

"I'm sorry Mr. Nikiforov, I've been trying my hardest to not be as bad as I was, I am trying for your sons sake, I wanna make him happy.."

"I can see that and I hope you keep trying."

"I will, I care about Lev so much I wouldn't do anything to actually hurt him, I love him too much to do that."

"Th-"

"HEY VICTOR WE NEED TO GET TO THE AIRPORT!" Called Yakov's voice loud from the bus.

"Coming! Lets go!"

After gathering the others they left, till next week will we see them again.

#Yuri on ice #Haikyuu #Yuri on ice x haikyuu

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funkymbtifiction · 3 years

Text

How I Write, How I Dream: ESTP Edition

Mod: An ESTP asked permission to submit this, since she noticed I do not have an ESTP ‘How I write stories’ description in the archive to match this series. What follows is in her own words.

ESTP: How I Write, How I Dream

So this submission is like 6+ years late topically, I think, but it’s an understatement to say I get side-tracked easily. First I had to be self-aware enough to actually determine my type with confidence, and then I had to remember to write this up. Hopefully it’s an edition that’s better late than never – in any case, I thought it might be fun to contribute, given the frequent lack of Se-dom voices in things like this.

I’m aware that I might be in a comparatively small group as a regular ESTP writer, let alone one familiar with personality typology, but I wrote my first short story at nine for a 4th grade assignment, and then my first full story/intended book when I was eleven, (both of which I immediately proceeded to act out on the playground), so it’s sort of always been a part of my normal retinue of hobbies/coping mechanisms/diversions/distractions. Usually I find that I write the most when I’m bored or otherwise dissatisfied with my real life – sort of using it to spice things up with more exciting events, even if they’re regrettably fictional. I also suspect that I use writing to experience all the interesting things I find myself unable to physically do, at least for the moment – not unlike what your ISTP contributor described. I think sometimes that I use it to subconsciously work through certain concepts, too, until I understand them holistically. It’s like it gives me a way to actually engage and interact with a philosophical concept through tangible expression – through embedding it into [fictional] human behavior. Like how I understand the nuances of the concept of apostasy better for having walked through the plot of Silence (2016) with Scorsese than I would have if it was still just a definition in a theology textbook. Application helps me. (I also had a counselor a while back who told me that I used my writing to work through the emotions I hate to process in real life, but I was never wholly convinced of that or the connection of my plots to my real life events, so jury’s out, I guess.)

When I was a kid, I liked to read a fair-ish amount. Spies were oftentimes my favorite topic, but I also wanted eagerly to be one and owned probably every kid spy gadget ever manufactured for sale at the Spy Museum in D.C., to which I dragged my parents practically every weekend so I could crawl through air vents, etc. However, my favorite children’s series of all was actually the Ingo series by the late Helen Dunmore, which provided me with exciting, nature-based, and [mostly] emotionally satisfying adventures in my lifelong favorite unpredictable environment – underwater. (I also dragged my parents constantly to our local aquarium.) As I got older, the frequency of my reading dropped, and I now find myself usually pulled more towards nonfiction.

[Note – I just realized a lifelong quirk with me and books. I’m sort of ridiculously set on *seeing* the books I own. I mean, I know what I own, but I still constantly get out every book I own on a particular topic just to see them all at once. It makes the knowledge more cohesive for me to concentrate it visually, I guess. Even just the covers. Anyway.]

My writing habits are kind of awful – in that, like alluded to above, I pretty much only write when I either a) am seized by a great idea, or else b) have nothing better to do. I have little ambition to actually publish or anything like that, regardless of encouragement, and I prefer to think of my writing as just a diversion, an amusement for myself alone (though I do crave minimal approval, as I do in anything). In any case, as soon as the pressure of a schedule is attached to my writing, it drains of all joy for me. Much like your ISTP contributor described, I think I hover somewhere between plotter and pantser, depending on the story. Too much planning leads to my feeling like I have no incentive to actually write it, as I’ve already experienced it, and too little leaves me spinning aimlessly with no real direction. I write both prose and screenplays, and the rule seems to hold true for both, overall. Also, whenever I have a problem in my plotting or characters or whatever, I find that I have to step away, go be busy with something else, sometimes for a long while, and when I come back everything just falls into place. I guess unconscious Ti and/or Ni finding solutions? I’m not totally sure how/why that happens.

As my inclusion of screenplay format may suggest, I experience my stories in an incredibly visual way. I think sometimes that my narratives come across very much like movies, with all the requisite limitations and usual lack of character introspection. I feel like I pretty much focus on the observable actions of my characters – I find describing any kind of extended rumination highly unnatural, at least most of the time. Even my planning is highly visual. I have a tendency to graph, chart, draw, and plaster my options all over the walls. It’s ridiculous sometimes, but in many cases I just have to be able to see them all next to each other, even if there’s no other information provided. Like my books, mentioned earlier. It helps clarify my plot choices in my mind. It’s also a quirk/weakness of mine that I am often entirely dependent on outside images for descriptions. I need to find a real person, place, or thing to base my fictional ones on physically if I hope to have any kind of concrete knowledge to allow description. Again, it helps solidify them/it in my mind.

I have another weakness in my writing that often results in much incredulous laughter – I’m often entirely blind to any hidden meaning or symbolism in my own writing. I might get the vaguest sense of something being a good line, but be unsure why until my ISFJ friend starts praising my deep, archetypal references and crafting – and then staring at me when I clearly have no idea what she means. It’s happened several times by this point, and though it makes me laugh, I’ll just blame it on the subconscious inferior Ni. I pretty much never have any kind of goal of being symbolic or laden with deep meaning. If I were ever to try that, I think it would massively stress me out.

In terms of editors, beta readers, or whatever else we want to call those who give solicited criticism – that’s just what I need/want. Criticism. For the most part, I’m incredibly thick-skinned about my writing and would be absolutely fine if someone told me that it was utterly terrible and the whole thing needed revising down to the very concept. That may be because I think many of my concepts are lackluster to start with. But nothing frustrates me so quickly as readers unwilling to actually [and harshly] criticize. I always tell them that I want him/her to rip it to shreds. I mean, that’s the only way it’ll get better. (I’ve made mistakes before by assuming that other writers feel this way, too – my sister did not appreciate my input.)

I write almost exclusively dramas these days, I guess, though of varying subtypes. (I also maintain the availability/ready accessibility of about 10+ stories at any given time of active writing. I bounce between them sometimes based on what I’m feeling like at the moment or what I have a new thought about.) I have a sort of historical drama thing that takes place in the 1680s, a modern drama prompted by a premise of genetic engineering, a Most Dangerous Game kind of hunting/weapons thing, a detective story in the immediate aftermath of WWII, a classic deserted island story, a thing involving the phenomenon of stigmata… the list goes on and shifts constantly.

However, while I’ve typically enjoyed writing, here’s the omnipresent rub – engaging with it for any great amount of time makes me really unhealthy emotionally. I’m pretty sure that after like two or three days primarily working on a story without other overriding priorities, or like six or seven with those scattered distractions, (at best), I’m plummeting straight down to my inferior functions. My historical stories do this even more quickly, because they oftentimes seem to require more mental effort. I get super irritable, drown in self-loathing, start to think that everything real that I want is never going to happen – it’s really not good. The fact of the matter is that while writing is a fun diversion oftentimes, I go insane doing it for too long, because I need to get out and engage. (Thanks to my pesky Se-dom, daring to ask for more than just incessant fidgeting.)

When I do write, however, I’m known for my in-depth research, my character-driven plots, lines some people in my life seem to think are witty or something, and emotional depth, believe it or not. I’ve been complimented on it, as well as my tendency to accurately portray mental/emotional illness. I don’t know. I’ve never thought I was overly talented at such things, but then again, I never paid much attention. Even this write-up has been hard – analyzing my writing like this. It’s not a strength of mine to scrutinize my own habits.

After all, I’m busy – I have to go blast Maroon 5 as I jump off a 20-foot wall yelling, “Parkour!”

I am an ESTP, remember? ;-)

#estp #writing #how i write

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danzinora-switch · 4 years

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Typing the Turtles (ROTTMNT) Part 2 - Donatello

This started out as an investigation into the turtles’ insecurities, because one thing the show does so well is demonstrate that they are still teenagers. And being a teenager is a confusing experience - there’s angst, drama, exploring one’s identity, a lot of growth, and overall figuring out who you are. That’s a messy process, too! And we see this mess in our turtles: they mess up, they’re learning, they self-doubt, they have fears and insecurities, but they’re also discovering their strengths and how to overcome their inner obstacles.

So after thinking about all this way too long, here’s my psychological breakdown of each turtle (I’ll be referencing MBTI and the Enneagram, but will include links for more general information on those if you don’t know what I’m talking about).

Donnie: INTJ, 5w6

The Architect, the Investigator, the Problem-Solver, the Observer

Firstly, getting into this analysis means that we have to step away from the stereotype that all INTJs are cold, aloof, and unemotional. INTJs, especially Turbulent ones, do express emotion, and we’ve all seen Donnie’s dramatic ‘theatre kid’ side. I’m not going to ignore that. He manages to be both thanks to the INTJ’s tertiary function Introverted Feeling (Fi). Extroverted Feeling (Fe) really allows one to connect and empathize with others’ emotions. Fi, however, is a more internal experience of feelings, and has trouble connecting with others without having been in their shoes. I happen to think Donnie is in a strong Ni-Fi loop, as well, which would make sense because fighting bad guys every day while trying to save the world after discovering a Mystic City which upbends everything you ever knew is pretty stressful. https://www.psychologyjunkie.com/2017/06/21/intjs-loop-understanding-ni-fi-loop/

And it’s super interesting that he often expresses his emotions by literally saying them. “Evil laugh! Relishing chuckle! Gasp!” (Mind Meld) and, one of my favorites, he literally says “Sad face emoji” in Many Unhappy Returns.

So while we DO see Donnie experience and display his own emotions, we also DON’T see him all that affected by other people’s emotions. He’s still pretty stoic in Mystic Mayhem after the delivery guy gets mutated, cracking a joke about imitation crab. He’s unaffected by Todd’s puppies in Repo Mantis, and the only one immune to Warren Stone’s sob story in Warren & Hypno Sitting in a Tree. Pizza Pit shows it best when he’s unaffected when Mikey’s favorite pizza place collapses until the same thing happens to him. Fi at work vs Fe.

As for Donnie being a 5w6, keep this core motivation in mind: “[Fives] Want to possess knowledge, to understand the environment, to have everything figured out as a way of defending the self from threats from the environment.” https://www.enneagraminstitute.com/type-5

Donnie at his Worst: Donnie vs. Witch Town gave us this gem of a line: “Because I’m the science guy! If mystic powers can do everything I can do, but better, then why would you guys even need me?” And while people have pointed out his need to be needed, I argue it’s a little more accurate to say he has a need to belong. His role in the group is the Brainiac, the Science Guy, the Smart One, and so his very identity is tied into fulfilling that role. A 5’s core fear is of being useless, helpless, or incapable. Mystic powers rendering his tech redundant, and thereby him useless, would be a pretty big threat to the security of his role in the group (that 6 wing kicking in). And remember a 5’s core motivation: to understand the environment as a defense. And he still doesn’t understand mystic energy. It’s pretty infuriating, so he’s pretty insufferable about it.

[Note: seeing mystic power as a threat probably didn’t kick in until their fight with Shredder in Many Unhappy Returns. Prior to that, his brothers were still learning how to use their magic weapons, but Donnie already understood his tech well enough to use it effectively (see their first fight against Baron Draxum in the pilot). But against the Shredder… all his tech was useless. Only the hanky, the hanky, was even marginally effective. His brothers’ weapons were now way more capable than anything he had to offer… core 5 fear. And to cope? Learn all you can about your fear/threat. Except he still hasn’t figured it out; we see even in Air Turtle that he calls Draxum for the mystic expertise instead of formulating his own hypothesis].

We’ve seen this insecurity about his place in the group before. In Mind Meld, as his brothers become more like him, his role is challenged. “Hey, you’re trying to get rid of me, that’s what I do to you!” “But, I thought purple was my... my thing.” When he first meets the Purple Dragon he immediately wants to join them because he sees them as tech peers. In Man vs Sewer even though he professes that it’s his day off, he doesn’t react well whenever Leo does ‘his thing’: analyzing the situation and drawing a conclusion. His self-worth seems to be tied to what he has to offer the group, and we hear that even in his song in The Mystic Library about proving himself.

Besides his insecurity, Donnie is practically allergic to blame. (Interestingly enough, he’s more okay with being wrong and others being right sometimes… sure he’ll deflect, but it doesn’t seem to get under his skin the way being at fault does). He will repeatedly deny fault and shift the blame to someone else when something goes wrong. He denies creating AlBearto in Al Be Back, says the incident with the Purple Dragons in The Purple Jacket is entirely April’s fault (she is not amused) and puts the blame for ditching Todd off on his brothers in Todd Scouts. The one time we see him own up his mistakes is in Mind Meld when no one (except Shelldon) is around to see it. “Yup. I beefed up.” This is definitely an area he needs to work on.

Average Donnie: Donnie cares for his brothers, but that doesn’t always get across in the best of ways. Take the episode Donnie’s Gifts, for example. Donnie never actually got a chance to explain how the gifts work, but we can see protective elements in each of them. Raph: please use your head and don’t just blindly rush in! Mikey: ohmygosh that is so dangerous, please be careful and don’t get hurt! Leo: stop poking the bear, Leo, it only makes him angrier! It makes sense that a 5 who has external fears of the world and has their own protective equipment (the Battle Shells) would extend that to his brothers. And Donnie was able to recognize that even though his brothers got the wrong message, he could move past that and call for a group hug. In the Purple Game he is super anxious to make sure his brothers are okay and not mostly hurt. Insane in the Mama Train also reveals the invention of the Panic Button… and who designed that?

Donnie also seeks a lot of validation. He takes pride in his work, and when his work is appreciated he gives that appreciation back tenfold [such as when he shows off the Turtle Tank to his brothers (Fast and Furriest), or when Splinter says he’s proud of him (Turtle-dega Nights: the Ballad of Rat Man)]. The flip side is that when he’s not getting the validation he needs from others he’ll create it himself, which comes off as arrogant and egocentric. See Smart Lair, when Sheldon 1.0 plays messages of Donnie’s self-worth all night, and is programmed to favor him. Or when he takes full credit for defeating a bad guy: the silverfish in Donnie’s Gifts, and scaring Draxum away with his disco ball in Shadow of Evil. When he gets the recognition for all his hard work from the right people, though, it inspires him to do great things. There is danger in getting validation from the wrong people, however, as we saw in Big Mama’s case in Bug Busters.

Donnie at his Best: Donnie’s at his best (and most relaxed) whenever he’s learning or building something. He gets super excited and happy attending April’s school (The Purple Jacket) or going to the library (The Mystic Library) and wants to attend college someday (The Mutant Menace). The INTJ/5 seeks to absorb information and he’s constantly energized by it.

He’s also energized when he can put that information to use, such as when building something. Did Albearto need a total tear-down in War and Pizza? No. But Donnie had fun making him ‘dazzle!’ How did Donnie cope being in the woods in Todd Scouts? By building an impressive tree fort. Donnie’s projects actually relax him, because he’s exercising his strength and capabilities.

This also works for his method of attacks and plans: Know Thine Enemy. He studies Warren Stone in Newsworthy when they meet him and is the only one who remembers he regenerates by Warren & Hypno Sitting in a Tree. Donnie and Mikey are able to successfully scam Repo Mantis in One Man’s Junk because they know how he thinks. Donnie thwarts everything the Purple Dragons do and can bring Shelldon home because he knows how they operate (The Purple Game, Breaking Purple). He can restore his brothers to their rightful minds in Mind Meld because he knows himself.

Also: music. The fact that one of his Battle Shells has a music mode (Mascot Melee), that he remembers things in song form (The Mystic Library, Donnie vs Witch Town), and that he likes to dance (Stuck on You) is so pure and adorable.

Donnie Relationships:

(while Donnie does see his brothers as dum-dums at times, he admits they’re fun and pretty great to have in Mind Meld)

Raph: We really need a Donnie and Raph episode, but even without one there’s some moments we can look at. I already discussed in Raph’s analysis their general similarities. Donnie doesn’t think Raph always has the brightest ideas, but still has soft moments with him such as giving him $20 at the end of Mind Meld, designing the ‘captain’s chair’ of the Turtle Tank to Raph’s lumbar settings, and appreciating Raph’s pirate accent in Snow Day. They are both protective of their brothers, Raph with his fists and Donnie with his tech. It’s interesting that (I believe) they’re the reverse of each other on the Enneagram: Raph is a 6w5, and Donnie a 5w6. So they both understand the risks involved in what they do (mostly: Donnie still ate poison and Raph still goes on ‘smashcapades’). I really want to see a team-up between them.

Leo: I’m all for the Disaster Twins trope, but to me an episode that epitomizes that isn’t one like Lair Games, where they’re at each other’s throats, but Operation Normal. They’ve apparently done the grandma-getup before. They wind up playing as good cop, bad cop in Fast and Furriest. Sure, one’s high-strung, and one’s laid-back, which can get on each others’ nerves, but there’s also a lot of making up. Brotherly betrayal passes back and forth between them, but never crosses a line. And the numerous times they unconsciously mirror each other can be found with a simple search of the Disaster Twins tag. I’m interested to see more episodes where they work together, even in the background, just because they can get up to wild shenanigans.

Mikey: Mikey’s probably the turtle Donnie most gets along with. They’ve had several episode team-ups: Repo Mantis, One Man’s Junk, Turtle-dega Nights: the Ballad of Rat Man, Breaking Purple, etc. Donnie may be the team academic, but Mikey has strong emotional intelligence. They get along pretty easily, making plans together (One Man’s Junk) and protecting each other (we see Donnie protect Mikey in Repo Mantis and Bug Busters, but we see Mikey protect Donnie by pulling him out of the way in Smart Lair). Donnie helps Mikey focus on the goal at hand, and Mikey helps Donnie communicate better with others. They’re a good team with a pretty solid foundation.

Ultimately, Donnie’s an inventive turtle who wants his brothers to be safe but is still wrestling with a lot of insecurities and unhealthy stress levels. I’m excited to see how he grows into real confidence and utilizes his strengths as an integral member of the team.

For more information on the INTJ and Enneagram 5 personality types, click here:

https://www.16personalities.com/intj-personality

https://www.crystalknows.com/enneagram/type-5-wing-6

https://thoughtcatalog.com/heidi-priebe/2016/01/mbti-and-the-enneagram-2/6/

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #donatello #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #tmnt 2k18 #essay #personality #mbti #myers briggs #enneagram #teenage mutant ninja turtles #INTJ #enneagram 5 #5w6 #i spent way too much time on this #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie

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underthedekutree · 4 years

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Young Link might have PTSD - Part 2: Termina is NOT a Parallel World, Technically

This is a continuation of my last post so if you’re seeing this and haven’t read it, go here.

This is the part where I somewhat smoothly segue into Majora’s Mask. Link, lonely and filled with unprocessed trauma, leaves Hyrule in search of Navi. According to most sources (which take from Hyrule Historia probably? don’t quote me on it), Link falls down a hole into Termina, a parallel world to Hyrule, that contains many familiar looking denizens of Hyrule, but playing different roles. And well, if you probably guessed by the title, I have a rather different interpretation.

Okay, so in a nutshell my theory is that Termina is in fact all a dream, kind of like Koholint Island. Except the one dreaming up this world isn’t some deity like the Giants or Skull Kid or the Moon. It’s Link.

(big explainey hoo hah below)

Evidence 1: Link begins the game sleeping. Yes, I know literally every Zelda game begins this way and it’s a whole tradition thing. I am beginning with the weakest points first and working my way up to the strong ones. We’ll get there.

Evidence 2: The reuse of character and environment models from Ocarina of Time. The literal IRL reason for this is of course the game famously being given only one year of production time, which meant that the most practical method was to reuse as much material from MM’s predecessor as possible (eg. Romani Ranch sign is the Kakariko Village sign, and still says Kakariko Village on it). It seems like a rather offhand afterthought for Nintendo to chalk it all up to “oh its just a parallel world like Link to the Past or something. But think of it like this; when we dream, we often see familiar people from throughout our lives put in strange and unexpected situations, like that irritable old farmhand you hated so much is now a depressed circus master for some reason. Dreams don’t make sense. Things you know will mix with other strange inexplicable things, fleeting thoughts in your mind, all roughly tied together by whatever emotions you had been feeling when you went to bed. Malon is split into two people, Romani and Cremia, her older and younger self. This might reflect how Link feels about Malon, that she changed so much in those 7 years that she’s like a different person entirely, that it’s hard for him to process that they are the same, because the change was so shockingly sudden for him.

Evidence 3: Gorons in the snow, Gerudo by the sea. Yes, I know that sounds a lot like good evidence for a parallel world (that’s why the idea is widely accepted in the first place, it has merit), but it also works in as dream world evidence too. As a child, my family was obsessed with skiing. We would go to the same mountain every winter, and we would stay at the same lodge. It almost became like a second home for me. So much so, that one night I dreamed that my house had been replaced by the lodge, so it wasn’t on a snow-capped mountain, but in a bushy Australian suburb. Okay that kinda got off subject but I’m bad at conclusions so in summary Dreams Just Be Like That (tm). You get what I’m saying right? No? Sorry, let’s just move on.

Evidence 4: The Milk Bar. AKA my favourite location in the game! It’s often overlooked as the “haha funny they couldn’t put alcohol in kids game so its kiddy milk hee hee”, but it is actually a strong thematic pillar of Majora’s Mask. As I mentioned in Part 1, if you put a 9 year old in a 16 year old’s body and call him an adult before ripping that all away is probably going to leave the kid with an identity crisis. What is a mature place open at late hours when children are sleeping? A bar. What is a drink associated with the young, being produced for the purpose of helping children grow? Milk. No please don’t go I swear there’s more to this, stay with me. In order to gain access to the bar, Link must prove he is mature enough by wearing a mask, a disguise, like Adult Link is to Young Link. Being adult isn’t earned through years of natural living experience and mental development, it’s a thing you are given by adults to just BE when they deem you worthy, at least from how Link sees it. So that is the amalgamation of dream thoughts that is the Milk Bar. Is it mature? Is it childish? What is the line between the two? Is there one? It’s the culmination of his anxieties and confusions that he doesn’t know how to express. Another, smaller expression of this anxiety is the Clock Town Guards. When Link is a Deku, the guards say they don’t allow children outside the gates. When Link turns back however, the guard goes to stop him because he looks too young, but sees that he has a sword, and lets him pass. Why the sword? Well, in one way this is a callback to Kokiri Forest, where Mido doesn’t let Link see the Deku Tree until he has a sword. But also, what is the item that lets Link travel through time and become an adult in OOT? The Master Sword. Link seems to believe that adulthood is measured by the things you have, physical markers of maturity, which is how lots of children see adulthood. You’re an adult if you can drink, if you’re tall, if you’re married, if you have a house, a car etc. But in reality this isn’t how it works. Heck, I’m technically an adult but I sure as hell don’t feel like one, because I know I still have things to learn about responsibility, patience and all the other things, that can only come with time, which is the moral conclusion of OOT, but clearly Link missed the memo. Don’t get me wrong, there are some indicators to show he’s grown a bit. He can ride Epona, use the bow, do flips like some kind of acrobat etc. But those strange and confused feelings linger, and manifest in the young boy’s dreams.

Evidence 5: The four transformation masks. The four masks represent different aspects of Link’s self, and the way he grew and changed in OOT. Deku Scrub the Innocent, Goron the Confident, Zora the Mature and Fierce Deity the Hero. Link began only knowing the Kokiri Forest, and nothing of the world outside. As he set out on his journey, he grew more confident in his skills and defeated greater foes. When evil took over, he learned from his fatal mistake and worked to right it. And when it was finally time to face the greatest threat, he was ready, with all the heart pieces, bottles full of fairies, Biggoron Sword in hand. At that moment he struck the final blow he probably felt like the strong and unstoppable hero everyone in Hyrule told him he needed to be. And that feeling of pure uncompromising strength, with the whole world behind him, manifested in the Fierce Deity. Fierce Deity is much taller than Adult Link, and packs so much of a punch that he can beat Majora without batting an eye, like some overpowered Super Saiyan. It reminds me a lot of Undertale, with young Asriel becoming what he imagines to be an all-powerful godlike being, like something you’d see as a children’s drawing. Fierce Deity gives off those vibes, like “he has a HUGE SWORD that SHOOTS BEAMS OF LIGHT and he’s 8 FOOT TALL and CAN KILL ENEMIES IN A SINGLE BLOW!!” Before the final battle on the moon, when Majora gives you the mask, he childishly asks if you want to play a game of good guys and bad guys. And the good guy always wins, no matter what. Fierce Deity makes the final boss a cakewalk, but its supposed to.

Evidence 6: Anju and Kafei. Short one, because it falls a lot into everything else I’ve said regarding childhood vs adulthood. Kafei is effectively a switcheroo of what happened to Link in OOT. An adult shrunk back to childhood, uncomfortable in his new body and looking for a way to fix everything. He’s a reflection of how Link now kinda feels like an adult in a child’s body, because he had started to be used to being called an adult.

Evidence 7: The Moon. I haven’t super touched on the main meat of the game yet, so here it is. The moon and the 3 day mechanic is an allegory for constant mounting pressure, that builds and builds, never ceasing, because the world is in danger, and there’s only one person who has been chosen to save it. I’ve always been interested in the Chosen One narrative, and how different media explore the idea of the world’s very existence being pushed onto one person. How at the end of it all, they can never be the same again after all they’ve gone through. When you’re somehow expected to hold up the Moon itself single-handed, and your life and everything you care about suffers because you’re putting everyone else before yourself. That feeling of complete loneliness under a crushing weight, and although other characters may come to help you, in the end its still all down to you, and you never had a choice in any of it, as all the decisions were made by someone else. You must do what they tell you. Believe in yourself, believe...

Evidence 8: Skull Kid. The story goes that long ago in Termina, the Skull Kid and the Giants played together, until one day, the Giants left, leaving the Skull Kid alone and heartbroken, with nobody to turn to. As life moves on, things may change, and people always come and go from your life. Your friend might move overseas, or stop texting you, or you might fall out of friendship after an awkward event from which you could never recover (no, these have totally not all happened to me, shut up i’m fine), or your fairy companion might just disappear without so much as a goodbye after their task is complete. And it feels like you didn’t matter at all. That they never really cared about you, and you’re as easy to drop and move on from as a child’s toy. You might get angry, and want to shut them out, and give them a taste of their own medicine. Majora’s Mask teaches you that this isn’t the case. Life is ever changing, but you will always have the memories of times with your friends, and a chance to make more with new friends, like a sassy talkative fairy sprite and her shy brother or a child made of wood who wants to destroy the world. Friends come from unlikely places, so accept that change will happen and hope that wherever the people you knew are, they’re okay. You’re thinking about them, so they might be thinking about you too. And who knows? Life is unpredictable. They might just come back one day, and it’ll be like they were never gone.

Evidence 9 (the final one, I promise): The Song of Healing. At the end of all things, after losing ones you love, connections to family and friends, memories of things long past... you need time to heal. Link’s journey through Termina is a constant gauntlet of running into his own past traumas, forced to relive them again, and again, and again. But sometimes you should take a deep breath, gather your thoughts, and take time to heal. Although it can be important to confront your fears and learn to surpass them, it is exhausting, and you can end up more emotionally broken than when you started. The three masks all had regrets of powerlessness; unable to protect your community, your loved ones, or even yourself. Troubles you’ve gone through that keep plaguing your mind, and you’re wondering if you’ve done enough, seeking answers where none can be found. And the best thing you can do... is accept and move on. Be kind to yourself, and give yourself time to heal. Link’s way of processing his grief and trauma is to create an entire hellscape world in his own head, but not everyone processes it the same way. Sometimes you feel like you need to busy yourself, or listen to soothing music, or talk to people you trust, or spend copious amounts of money, or make some angst art, or cuddle your plush toys until their stuffing squeezes out. Sometimes life hits you in the face and you want to blame yourself for standing in the firing line, but it’s not your fault. It’s okay to feel however you feel, whether you’re drenched in a pool of tears or you just feel numb, it’s okay and natural. You’re okay. You’re here.

Okay so it got kinda personal at the end there but I hope it was informative, and made you think a little bit differently about Majora’s Mask and Ocarina of Time. You probably want to go back and play them now. Me too.

So was this all just an excuse for me to gush about how cool Majora’s Mask is? Hell fucking yes it was. Congratulations for making it through my monstrous ramblings, you get the secret prize of looking at my weird art on my DA. Here you go. Have a nice day, Zelda Nerds.

#long post #legend of zelda #majoras mask #young link #fierce deity #zelda theory #wow i cant believe i never realised i wrote fuckig outset island instead of koholint im dumby af

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thehereticaldeserthermit · 4 years

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𝕆𝕦𝕥 𝕆𝕗 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣 ℚ𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤

ROLE PLAYER GET TO KNOW YOU PROMPT

Alright TDC Community It’s time for a task,

and this time we’re all going to get to know each other a little better.

Under the cut, you’ll find forty out of character questions split into two parts: OOC about your muses, and OOC about yourself! Answer what you’d like, add more if you’d like.

When you’re done TAG some of your writing partners and keep FUN going.

-there is no pressure to participate

-IF You Are Reading This And You’d Like To Participate Consider Yourself Tagged My Friend!

Much Love,

TheJesseWhoLurks

I tag @lyr-taxidermist @theghostofharar @hurdygurdyskeksis @urskekyagvi @skekmal-the-hunter @skekso-the-emperor @gourdplayer @hedonistschambers @ulvanmaudra @littlebluezoologist @the-wandering-urru @queenofthetides @juliejewel24 @thecastleurru

OOC About Your Character(s)

1. What do you want to get out of playing this character(s)?

The reason I wanted to write for Gra was to meet fellow fans that loved the world of TDC as much as I do, I wanted to find fellow writers. I wanted to steep myself in the fandom. You can easily consider me skeKSis obsessed but I am growing a fondness for their counterparts -slowly ❤

2. Describe your character(s) with three words.

Passionate | Erratic | Trustworthy

3. What made you decide to write this muse?

Originally I was going to pick up The Ritual Master, he’d been my OG fav from the movie BUT Gra kept ... poking me with his scepter? Like; I live in the desert, you live in the desert, Ima recluse, you’re a recluse =we are simpatico. I think The Heretic picked me because he simply would not leave my mind when I considered him as a possibility.

4. If you could change one event in your muse’s life (in their main or canon verse), what would you change?

Canon. I mean they left us kinda hanging there. We really do not know what happened do we? They are simply, just not there anymore. I do not want them to perish, I want them to make it to the finish line and become urSkek. It breaks my heart to think they did not make it.

5. If you could tell your muse one thing, what would you tell them?

I would not say anything, just hug him REALLY tightly and probably not let go until he gives me a chitter-laugh.

6. If you could give your muse one gift, what would you give them?

I would like to give them...ME.

7. If you had to take one positive thing away from your muse, what would you take away?

I do not want to take a positive thing from the fibers that make up Gra. I feel they are very interwoven in his tale. Removing one would make another untether. If I could take away or diminish a bad trait Id have him not be so stubborn and or impatient but then again he would not be Gra now would he?

8. If you could “borrow” one aspect of your muse and apply it to yourself or your own life, what would you borrow?

His determination, passion. Damn son. You get things done.

9. Do you genuinely want your muse to be happy? What do you think would make them most happy in life?

Yes. He’s gotten his ass handed to him, I think he might be owed a slice of peace and happiness. What makes him most happy? He’s already showed me; his relationships whether its friendship, extended family or a lover those are treasures he holds near and dear to his heart.

10. Do you enjoy putting your muse through angst? What do you think would break their heart the most?

Usually I prefer to plot out angst rather then let it completely run a-muck because you never know what your partner is comfortable with, what might trigger them in a detrimental way and simply set fire to a plot unintentionally.

I already know; it literally is ... break his heart.

11. What do you love about your muse?

His dynamic energy, the wild fire, the mystical chaos, the creativity is off the charts. His sharp distinguished features, the way he looks shamanistically feral as compared to his brethren and their Garthic garb. His use of the color red. His scratchy rasp of a voice. His laugh.

12. What do you hate about your muse?

He is a high maintenance muse, he is demanding and screeches loudly for what he wants.

13. What about your muse amuses you?

The fact that he is a skeKSis. This brings a whole slew of challenges to the table for a writer. Case in point, I was writing a reply one day and I went to put something in along the lines of ‘he arched his brow and blah blah’ THEN he hit me! He has no eyebrows to arch, ahhh! I have to stop and think about how to write out expressive traits or reactions that are not of the usual human reaction tone.

14. What about your muse makes you sad?

How fragile his heart really is after all the shit he’s endeared.

15. How would you describe your muse to someone about to meet them, in person, for the first time?

Get Ready For A Wild SURPRISE!

16. Would you like your muse as a person if you met them in real life?

Yes, I like creative souls. I cherish them.

17. In what ways are you better than your muse? In what ways are they better than you?

I do not think I am or he is better than the other.

But I will say he is a handsome devil, for a skeKSis.

18. Why do you think you connect to your muse?

Creative. Outcast.

19. What aspect of your muse’s personality is most important to you? What aspect of your muse’s personality do you think is most important to them? Is it the same? Why or why not?

His passion and drive. I’d say its the same answer for us both. All of the accomplishments he tackled probably had their stacks of obstacles with each to-do. You’d have to have an unending supply of passion and drive to keep going, to complete all. He really is a work-a-holic and a busy body skek.

20. Has your character(s) changed over the time that you have been playing them? How have they changed?

Not yet but I am sure he will, creative liberties will be taken since I only have a a episode or two to work with -am I right?

About You!

1. What is your name?

Jesse.

2. What is your profession?

secret shit.

3. What do you do to relax?

I write. Play video games. Naps are divine. Hot coffee and watch YT videos. DOodle. Desert combing walks. Long hot baths. Organize things xD

4. What is your favorite treat (desert)?

All kinds, I’m not picky. I love me some chocolate lately.

5. Favorite movie

Too many to list. Its October right now. All I want is Hocus Pocus, some Harry Potter and Practical Magick at the moment. Tis the season.

6. Favorite book

I do not think I have a favorite. BUT I will admit that I have a copy of The Dark Crystal that I STOLE FROM A LIBRARY YEARS AGO! I have kept it all this time, its falling apart and its aged with beauty and I adore it ❤ I also have a Jim Henson book about puppetry and his works, there is a page from TDC and if my memory serves me right it has the concept art of skekGra in it sooo sooo I was looking at skekGra YEARS AGO AND HAD NO CLUE the conjunction that would line up in the future! I really neeed to go find this book but its in a storage shed that will be a fresh hell to get to =[ *

7. Favorite vacation spot

Anywhere where its either very green and or by some body of water. Ocean, river, lake. Yes, good. -not very many humans around save for present company reading thiiiis.

8. Favorite Disney movie

Are you kidding me? Too many to list, although I will say The Sword In The Stone did play a part in Gra’s Crystal Skimmer named Archimedes after the grouchy old owl.

9. How did you first get into role playing?

Years ago. I started writing on face book. I wrote for a pirate believe it or not, he was my first muse and he holds special place in my black heart and probably always will. But I am disinclined to acquiesce the gift of further details about this scurvy cursed muse, Ha!

10. What was your first platform? If it was something other than Tumblr, what made you get into Tumblr?

It was face book, before they got all crazy about accounts and security. I moved over to tumblr because writers were incredibly rude and rapid fire RP-ers. One liner sentences and I’m like NOPE I need a novel length.

11. What’s a grammar rule you find yourself breaking or ignoring a lot?

Sometimes I have a touch of dyslexia, sometimes I typo, sometimes I am too tired to proof read, sometimes I make blunders. But I tend to focus on my mistakes rather then other peoples. I just go with the flow, I just write no matter what their level of ‘proper grammar’ IS because I’d like to think that maybe they are just starting out, maybe they will fall in love with writing and maybe they will be the next author who creates a world we all fall in love with and want to immerse ourselves in.

12. Are there any languages besides English in which you think you could comfortably roleplay?

I do not RP in other languages. However I did have a muse at one time who was French, I would throw in little phrases but it was never entirely done in French and I do have a British muse at the moment, so again I will use slang and little sayings to make them well rounded as best as I can. Those are just little details I like to include that many others might skip on but I thrive for deets.

I do however have role play writing partners that are from ALL over the world which is amazing to me.

13. Do you listen to music while your write?

ALOT. I have tracks specifically for skekGra, that take me to his frame of mind. Even TDC soundtrack at times, the puppet show song and the blue flame part 2 are on replay a lot.

14. Are you a morning, day, evening, or night writer?

I am all over the place. My life is very hectic. I’d like to say its usually in the afternoon of evening for me, the house is settled down and things are silent but thats not always how it works out. Oftentimes I will sit down and write a reply or two, then dip to do mundane human things that adults do, then return back for a few more replies.

15. How does tiredness affect your writing?

Kills it. The weekends I work long hours therefor my brain is like WHAAAT.

16. What is your biggest obstacle to writing every day, if time doesn’t count?

It is always TIME. Sometimes stress levels can be an obstacle too, no lie. If something major is going on, I just throw my hands up like ‘I got nothin’’ and thats that.

17. How many drafts is a paralyzing amount?

Oh damn. Been there done that. I am much more picky about it nowadays. I try to limit skekGra to a certain number of replies because he also has to allow room for other muses.

Currently: Gra has ten replies on tumblr -no actually 11 &&& 4 on discord. I am two shakes away from cutting HIM OFF! lol.

18. Is there anything character-wise or writing style-wise that you can’t stand?

I’m open to different characters, I have written with a lot. I love a writer who has style, I appreciate the effort.

Etiquette, manners and consideration are oftentimes LACKING as of late.

19. What kind of anonymous questions are your favorite?

ANYTHING as long as it is not anon HATE.

20. What is your weakest point in writing? Angst, fluff, dialogue, etc.?

T I M E not having enough time to write the angst fluff and dialogue, smut too lets be real. It really is a bummer to me when I do not have the time, I work, I have a a lotta responsibilities, my life is like a hurricane a lot of the time so TIME is my weakness, oftentimes I am super J E L L O of people who are online all day, every day, always there I’m envious and I get writers FOMO which makes me laugh but its so damn true I could ugly laugh cry about it.

#OOC: Post Is Out Of Character #||| Just a lil get to know me thingy |||#the dark crystal #tdc age of resistance #skeksis #skekgra #skekgra the conqueror #skekgra the heretic

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agentmanatee · 4 years

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AOS 30 Day Challenge

Since I'm late to the party, I will be using this post to catch up.

Day 1: Favorite Season: S4 had the tightest story-telling with the pod structure. For a 22 episode season not to have a filler episode is quite a feat. Aida/Ophelia/Madame Hydra is my favorite Marvel - not just AOS - villian. Mallory Hansen's ability to play 4 different characters in one season in one show (sometimes multiple characters in the same scene) should have won her an Emmy hands-down. All of the cast should have won Emmy's for the performance in Self-Control (Everybody was on their A-game). My love for Robbie Reyes knows no bounds, and Gabriel Luna has mad chemistry with everyone (I pretty much ship Robbie with everybody he's not related to).

Day 3: Favorite story-line: Maveth. When I told my niece the story of FitzSimmons, she declared it "too much!" when I got to Maveth, specifically Hive and we stopped there. In a lot of ways it was the writers dipping their toes in adding more focus to Fitz and Simmons, who are portrayed by the show's strongest actors. I know a lot of people don't like the Will Daniels twist, but other than some hand-waveable plot holes, it really wasn't that bad. It was literally a "only two people on a planet" situation, and they thought that they would never see another human being again and that they were effectively dead to anyone on Earth; so their actions were understandable. Jemma didn't show interest in Will until she gave up seeing Fitz again, and Will initially did not act on his attraction because he respected and even appreciated Jemma's feelings for Fitz; he knew - even if Jemma didn't - that if given the opportunity to choose she would ultimately choose to Fitz ("No wonder Jemma loves you" was Hive channeling Will). If he survived and wasn't a villain I would ship him with either Joey or FitzSimmons (Fitz is canonically bi, Jemma deserves all the love, and the way Will talked about Fitz could be interpreted as romantic interest. He couldn't help falling for Fitz with the way Jemma talked about him), but I never submit prompt requests because I know how people feel about the character.

Also the planet of Maveth was a character unto itself, which is so cool. I really want to know what the light under its surface is; I don't but that it was a only heat source. Since sandstorms turned out not to be one of Hive's powers, Maveth or the cloaked figure (the personification of the planet a la Ego?) Jemma saw had to be the source of those. I suspect the civilization they saw evidence of were tied to the Confederation in season 5. Did they try to settle down and it backfired due to their culture? It very likely was how they knew there were Hydra leaders on Earth for them to manipulate. Will they ever confirm this? Doubtful. Finally, the mystery of Hive and what he was worked and exceeded expectations (his power set of terrifying!).

Day 2: Favorite episode: Inescapable. I was so excited for this episode I paid for it because Hulu was taking its time posting the episode. Of course a FitzSimmons episode would be amazing. The mind prison forced FitzSimmons to deal with issues they've avoided and together to boot. Seeing the turning point in their friendship at the academy and Coulson Recruiting them prior to season 1 was a hoot. I love how they revealed the other Fitz's death to him; he needed to see how the team mourned for him, to understand how much they loved him. Of course the whole scene was painful from him opening the bodybag to seeing the wedding ring to learning of Coulson's passing, but it was necessary and reflected how everything happens at once irl. Seeing their trust and loyalty in their bffs was heartening. And there is no doubt how much they are meant for eachother than when their darksides fall for and on eachother. They certainly learned some things there.

Honorable mention to Self-Control. That was the first episode I have ever purchased. It felt like a movie, and the story is insulated enough I think I may suggest it as the episode to watch when trying to get people to watch the show (either this or Orientation). The entire episode was so gripping I held a pillow to my chest the whole time once it was revealed that either Jemma or Fitz was an LMD. It was such a good Daisy and Jemma episode team-up and jump-started a whole arc of them supporting eachother. It was also a phenomenal Daisy episode. She showcased her powers, and Chloe knocked it out of the park. The scenes between May and Coulson's LMD-selves were so very moving. Ming did such a good job of portraying how May's LMD differed from the others. The episode also revealed what Fitz and Coulson would change if given a choice (not that AIDA gave Fitz such courtesy).

I just realized I switched Days 2 and 3, but don't want to bother with copying/pasting on my phone

Day 4: Favorite male character: Leopold James Fitz. Fitz was my favorite early on and hands-down my favorite character after FZZT. I saw myself in his mannerisms and could relate to his hesitancy to throw himself in the field but doing so because it is the right thing to do. His passion and loyalty to his friends is unparalleled. I also wanted to give Ward a chance. And it's interesting that Fitz was the first of the bus kids to understand how "No one is born evil." It took the Framework arc for Daisy to really understand that. He even has a leg up on Mack here since Mack's first instinct with anything alien is to kill it ("I'm the guy that kills Gordon" is not something someone who values all life, whether he views it as human or not.), which is understandable given his experiences. Fitz was the first person to show Daisy acceptance after terrigenesis, even if he was mistaken to hide it. I didn't realize it the time season 2 aired, but I get a similar aphasia during migraines (it's actually the first and last symptom when it happens). Seeing any appearance by the Doctor makes me feel sick to my stomach because I know how frightened and sick Fitz feels to have that as a part of himself. Fitz loves with his whole heart and he is always driven to do what he believes is the right thing, which is unfortunately what made the Doctor such a formidable villian. He also is always willing to give second chances but not third. He was the first person to joke around with Daisy after the Miles fiasco: he forgave Mack and Bobbi for the real Shield thing; he accepted Daisy back into the fold in seasons 2 & 4 despite how much her abandoning the team felt like betrayal; he formed a father-son relationship with Radcliffe after what he did for Hive; he trusted and befriended Enoch, knowing he kidnapped and sent his closest friends to a freakin future hellscape. Fitz is such a good person. Of course, all my love for Fitz doesn't mean I don't love the rest of Shield's men + Robbie Reyes.

Day 5: Favorite female character: Jemma Anne Simmons. Jemma is a close second for all around favorite (I just don't relate to her as much as Fitz). On a superficial note, Elizabeth Henstridge is so beautiful and hilarious, I have a giant girl crush on her (her smile is dang radiant). I love how they flipped gender stereotypes by making Fitz the emotional one who wears his heart on his sleeve and Jemma the practical one, who shoves her feelings in a box rather than express them. Jemma's cockiness is more real than Fitz's cocky front, too. I wish I had her confidence. Jemma also loves with her whole heart, as much as she has to hide it to function sometimes, and does what she believes is the right thing. She even revealed herself in the future dystopia because she could not stand aside when a stranger was hurt and she knew how to help/save him. Jemma jumped out of the Bus to save her team and jumped at a grenade to help them not thinking she would survive either occasion. She blamed Lash's murdering of inhumans on herself as she has the tendency to hold herself accountable for things that aren't her fault (she shares this trait with both Fitz and Daisy). She doesn't get lost exploring the details within the big picture, which is why she's so good at problem solving. She learned to kickass physically and has always done so mentally. She knows how to let her foes know to fear her. She has the self-awareness to know what traits she needs to work on to complete any mission. She does and would do anything for her team. She's also an incredible leader whether in the field, in the lab, or for the entirety of Shield. She is incredible.

Daisy Johnson is a very close second. And I can't rank May, Bobbi, and Elena. I also have girl crushes on all four of these ladies.

Day 6: Favorite relationship: S3 Shield Team (Coulson, May, Daisy, Fitz, Simmons, Mack, Bobbi, Hunter, Yoyo, Joey, Lincoln and Andrew). OK so I cheated here; we didn't even see everyone be in the same episode. So what? Season 3 had some of the best dynamics from the main team to Daisy's Secret Warriors it's no wonder people love season 3 so much. How can I pick just one? You have Coulson interacting with everyone (except for Joey), Lincoln's fear of May, Her mentorship of him, Fitz and Bobbi, Fitz and Hunter, FITZSIMMONS, Jemma and Andrew, Daisy and Mack, Mack and Huntingbird, MACKELENA, Doug, Fitz meeting his dad Holden Radcliffe, Radcliffe and Hive's "children"...Now I'm getting into characters that weren't on a Shield team. The characters and their relationships with eachother is what this show does best and what makes it such a good and beloved show, not the action or plot twists.

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