Tumgik
#i think of her often guys im sorry if this is ridiculous and very indulgent
egonkula · 29 days
Text
girl mac my most catholic of disasters!!!!
mac is pulled by her desire to please her mother and her God. to please her mother is to be what she really wanted, a boy. so mac slicks her hair back and cuts it short and ugly with a pair of safety scissors. every time she looks in the mirror she wonders if that's what she really was supposed to be . a boy. that's the only reason she could come up with to justify why god would burden her with loving girls. god simply forgot to make her a man. instead of coping she represses.
she's 14 and trying to ignore the nagging at the back of her mind when she kisses a boy for the first time. she's sick to her stomach and tries to pretend it's because she's drunk. she trudges back to charlee's place after, trying to feel normal again. she doesn't. charlee asks her what's wrong. she doesn't say. she crawls into charlee's bed and they forget about it .
she figures soon enough she'll be rewarded, god will bless her for being good. for trying to fix herself.
she views indulging in masculinity as a sin too, so she hates herself. she wishes she was like denise. she's so beautiful, effortlessly. she's got long hair and soft hands. mac's nothing like den. she does anything to prolong the time they have together, trying to worm her way into denise's life. be more than just her weird dealer under the bleachers.
she scrawls pictures of mother mary in her journal and every night before she goes to sleep she asks her to take it away.
the other girls at church whisper about her. she's 17 and has gotten used to swallowing down the vomit that comes with a man. half of them are calling her a whore. the other half whisper in fear. whisper that she's too close with that charlee. they heard about some party where charlee and mac were passed out on a couch, in some vaguely compromising position. the girls stared at her. like she was a disgusting beast. like they were scared mac was gonna come for them next.
at confession she asks for forgiveness for all the boys.
at confession she cries too hard to talk about the girls
32 notes · View notes
sloppy-butcher · 3 years
Note
Can I pls get B, E, J, K, L, M, O, W, and Y for Oni?
I thirst and I request a quenching. 😫❤️
hope this quenches your thirst. sorry, it arrived so late boos. hopefully, your dehydration has not ended you yet. thank you for your support <3
unfortunately im going to have to cut a few of the prompts off else i’d write forever and it would never end :)
;;edit, pls no more fluffy alphabet request thank you :)
Fluffy Alphabet for The Oni (Kazan Yamaoka)
Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?
Your face and more specifically your eyes. Ordinarily Kazan avoids contact with other peoples eye-line (most probably because he’d have to look down in order to speak directly into their faces) - he finds it demeaning and has the scars of past ridicules to further distrust him from the intimacy of eye contact. The face holds the purest form of human expression, no one can perfectly hide what they are feeling when it is written so clearly on their mouth, eyes and cheeks. He makes it a point to only look people in the eye when he kills them - there is only fear behind their orbs not disgust or contempt (Kazan remembers all the faces of the warriors and priests, and perhaps even his own wife, who called him a monster, their features etched like stone onto his mind that always fills his heart with hate and loathing).
When in a relationship with you, Kazan grows to enjoy looking into your face. It’s soft there, warm and comforting and he sometimes get lost when gazing for too long. You face was absent with the revile his past held, instead yours was understanding and gentle. it made him feel grounded and human. He feels welcomed in your face and watching as your mouth stretches into a light smile whenever he calls your name replaces all the horrible things in his chest if only for a moment.
Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?
Oh yeah, he would be the more dominant one. He’s a big guy, he knows what he wants and not matter how to try spin it, he would always end up on top. But he is not overly callous by any means, he rarely commands you to do things and only has one strong rule. You must stay by his side always. And if he is not around, then you stay in the temple. 
He lets you roam around his realm, doing as you wished and allowing you to keep your own free-agency. He even expresses permission for you to shower him in unexpected kisses, never once shying away as you approach him with open arms. 
Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?
Originally he would be stiff as a board, ridge like unmastered steel. Kazan has never really indulged in the soft intimacies of lovers so kissing is received and given as more of a business transaction rather than a form of physical affection. You would have to teach him to relax into the embrace and to give over to desires and to kiss you truly. It would sure take awhile, requiring a lot of effort on your part to initiate the kiss. 
However once he learns to trust you and deepen the kiss, Kazan becomes quite the good kisser. His smooches are as large and intense as the rest of him is, he always wants more from  you and often cups the back of your head so as to provide support as he tips you over and worms his tongue into your mouth. You are always left breathless. 
The first kiss would be a small peck, a gesture still wrapped in uncertainty and nervousness. Kazan returned from a rather gruesome trial, the total severity of which caused his shoulders to slightly lean downwards and his gait  to be labored and rough. he was beyond exhausted and you could not bring yourself to verbally ask him what was bothering him so bad. So instead you crept up behind him, announcing your presence with a gentle touch of his burgling forearm, a gesture which he acknowledged with a soft grunt. 
You soothe him with a coo and reach a tentative hand upwards to his mask. He remains still, allowing you to do with him as you pleased. You push back the red demon mask to reveal his scarred skin underneath and standing on tip-toes you place an impossible kiss against his jawline. There was nothing to be said, nothing to be done. You had given him the world in that one, small expression of love.
Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?
Oh yes, most definitely. Marriage to Kazan is the be-all-end-all of relationships. He was married once before but it was presumably arranged. Now with you, someone he genuinely likes and wishes to be with, he most certainly wants to marry you.
But that is easier said than done. Being in the Entity’s realm makes it difficult to arrange such traditional ceremonies, often leaving Kazan to ponder as to how he could make your marriage official. He could ask Plague, she looked rightfully prestigious and proper, but she doesn’t speak any language he understands and walks around with her nose stuck high in the air. Kazan spends the next few days considering all other killers and survivors, trying to guess you would make the binding most legitimate. By the end of a grueling month of tedious contemplation and evaluation, Kazan regrettably gives up and asks if you would be alright not being formally married to him. It breaks him damn heart knowing that you would never officially carry his family name. 
You laugh at his ludicrous endeavor and tell him you don’t care what your relationship is called, as long as you are with him you are happy. He smiles. 
On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?
At the best of times, Kazan rarely allows anyone to idly stare at him. He finds it incredibly disrespectful when people watch him as if he some kind of circus performer - staring is for the confused and not an activity one does in his presence. 
Thus it would take an incredibly vigil eye to notice if Kazan is off or not. Rin, obviously, is the first to comment on his sudden mood change. At her query, Kazan suddenly grins, his chest fills with hubris and he crosses his arm proudly in front of his chest. He proclaims that he has taken you as a partner and that your relationship is most favorable and enjoyable. He gloats about you often to anyone with an ear and he spares no expense in making sure that everyone is aware that you are his. 
Other than that, he is very subtle about his feelings - he often keeps to himself and as a result of this imposed isolation, Kazan has an immense build-up of affection to dispense onto you when at last he sees you again.
Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?
He’d miss you terribly. You are his partner, his everything, the moonlight that makes the night just that bit more bearable. If you must go somewhere, why could he not go with? If you had something to take care of, he would surely help you through it. You mean the world to him and being without causes him great stress.
He panics when you are not around, an incredibly worry-wart lives underneath his armor and blood-stained mask. He paces the length of his realm, head fuzzy with all the scenarios his cruel imagination could conjure up in which you hurt yourself - or worse, die. He can't think straight, can't concentrate - all his thoughts lie with you and your unknown safety.
138 notes · View notes
moonguilt · 3 years
Note
Klance 🍁
hey hello!! maple leaf hmm im a sucker for autumn and falling leaves so i must submit to my calling! please indulge me as i unload some pre-kl angsty keith unrequited (or so he thinks) pining. this kind of just turned into a full-on fic so uhhh sorry about that heh:
Allura has, obviously, never been to Earth before. She has never had the quintessential American autumn experience: leaf-peeping, hay rides, pumpkin-picking, apple cider, corn mazes, candle huffing, haunted houses—that type of thing, from what Keith knows of the subject. Which is admittedly kind of limited.
Lance is absolutely thrilled at the notion that he gets to introduce her to all of it. He clearly loves the idea of being the cool guy who gets to show an alien space princess an important facet of his lived experience here on Earth. As soon as the notion strikes him, one day while the team is scattered about their shared common room at the Garrison, he makes plans to take her on a tour. She is fascinated by the suggestion and immediately agrees—even expresses a particular excitement at the idea of getting to try out trendy fall Earth fashion.
Surprising absolutely no one, least of all Keith, Lance avidly encourages this and pulls out a phone to start making plans to wear matching outfits. (Allura seems to like the “dark academia” look, and Lance is more than happy to take her out shopping and also get some use out of his own turtlenecks.)
Keith, meanwhile, finds himself sitting across the table from them, watching this all go down, feeling bitter and sorry for himself. He’s a big gay idiot—he knows that—and, well. Sue him. He has to watch the man he loves make date plans with his crush. It’s hard. And for some reason, for some big gay idiot reason, because he must be a masochist or something, because he’s feeling so unreasonably grumpy and petulant about the whole thing, because he should be happy that Lance is happy and he hates that he’s just upset instead because what kind of dickish friend is he—
He says, “I’ve never seen any of that before either.”
And he wants to kick himself for saying it as soon as the words are out of his mouth, because he’s intruding on something that is not meant for him, and he’s such an asshole for trying to insinuate himself where he clearly doesn’t belong, and he’s also a liar because unlike Allura he has at least seen all of this stuff in movies and books and pictures so it’s not really a novelty for him the way it is for her, and now it’s like he’s trying to take something precious from her and from Lance, and he’s such an asshole and also so obvious and unsubtle.
It’s painful. He is in pain. Pain is in him.
He expects Lance to quip something snarky back at him, or to tell him to butt out, or to give him the “not cool bro” signal or—or something.
But Lance just lights up like a damned Christmas tree and leans over the table and says, “Really?! Dude, you’ve gotta come with!”
And the next thing Keith knows he’s being dragged by both his crush and an alien princess into Lance’s closet so that they can figure out his own matching ensemble for their weekend getaway to New England. He and Lance are basically the same size at this point, with a bit of variation in the details, so it’s an ordeal but not an unsuccessful one. The shirts are a little too loose around the shoulders—God, Lance and his smooth, wide shoulders—and a little too tight around the waist and arms, but they make it work.
Besides, Keith can’t help but feel a flicker of pride—misplaced, probably, but who cares—at the way Lance’s face goes a bit red at the sight of him. It’s probably nothing. But Keith is a fool and so he allows himself to entertain the frankly ridiculous fantasy that perhaps Lance likes the look of him in these clothes.
When the time comes, it’s a whole lot more complicated than Keith was anticipating—this is Lance, of course, so there’s a whole detailed itinerary of all the things they absolutely must do at every hour of each day of their weekend mini-vacation. Keith doesn’t know what the hell is in store for him and doesn’t really care; he trusts Lance to lead the way. And also he would much rather dig a hand into the roadtrip potato chip bag and lose himself in carbs than stress over a schedule that he knows is probably going to get messed up anyway because both Lance and Allura will be immediately distracted every time they set eyes on something fun or interesting or pretty. (But who is he to criticize when he himself is so often distracted by Lance.)
Anyway, he’s not really sure why Lance insisted on roadtrip snacks. It takes like a minute to get to Massachusetts in the Black Lion. But whatever; he knows better than to ask questions when Lance gets focused like this.
The trip ends up being remarkably enjoyable, actually. Keith expects it to be agonizing—he thinks he’s going to have to watch Lance drool over Allura the whole time while he third-wheels and follows them around carrying all their stuff—but the reality is a pleasant surprise. Keith hadn’t really noticed it until now, but there is something different about the way Lance and Allura interact these days. It’s less uncomfortable than Keith remembers. It feels more—natural, he supposes. And most astonishingly, it includes him as an equal and welcome part of the dynamic. Strange.
He notices it in the way Lance throws an arm around both him and Allura as they walk up a winding cobblestone street; in the way Allura says, “Boys, come here! Smell this candle! It’s called ‘pumpuh-kin spihsee’!” and beckons them both in close; in the way Lance asks a stranger to take their picture in front of a quaint old churchyard and, when Keith lingers awkwardly out of frame, calls him over and tucks him tightly in between himself and Allura.
It’s... fun. It’s so much fun. Keith is having so. Much. Fun.
He loves being able to share cider donuts with them. Instead of fighting over who gets the last one, like he thinks he would have been inclined to do once upon a time, they each keep biting it in half, smaller and smaller, and force the next person to do the same until they’re all nibbling tiny bites off of a pathetic little crumb. (Keith loses this game when he swallows the final piece because Lance leans in too close and brushes a sprinkle of sugar from his cheek. Not his proudest moment. He ends up having to pay for dinner.)
He loves being able to make fun of the silly ghost tour guide with them, mocking the dramatic affectation of his voice as he tells a story so obviously fake that it nearly brings them to tears. At least until the wind blows a door open so fast that Lance shrieks and jumps into Allura’s arms, at which point they really are overcome by tears—with the exception of Lance, of course, who just pouts at them both for a solid minute while he waits for them to recover from their laughter.
He really loves them. Not both in the same way, or with the same intentions—but he does. He loves them. And he loves this. And he is so glad he gets to experience it. So glad he didn’t submit to his urge to sulk and pine and grouse over his feelings for Lance. Because this is something precious, and he would be a fool to compromise it.
And no, it certainly isn’t the worst thing in the world, when they’re sitting on a pile of hay getting towed along by a rusty red tractor through the woodsy outskirts of a small farm, the way Lance curls his fingers through Keith’s and pulls their joined hands onto his lap, or the way Allura’s head droops to rest on Keith’s shoulder, while the three of them lounge together in the fading evening light.
“I love you both,” Allura mumbles drowsily into Keith’s borrowed sweater as he loops his arm around her back.  “Very much so.”
Lance’s thumb rubs along the back of Keith’s hand.  “Me too,” he says, turning to look at Keith with a gaze that could only be described as buttery soft.
Keith holds it for a moment, willing it to melt into his mind forever, then feels himself smile, slow and gentle, as he leans his head back against the hay and looks up.  The first stars of the night have emerged to kiss the sky above.  He tugs his friends just a little closer.
oh man i had fun with that, ty for reading and ty for the ask!!
17 notes · View notes
victortortor · 5 years
Text
jc/lwj fic snippets
this one was called ‘im just a housewife’ 
-- 
“North,” Lan Wangji says, “Near Qinghe.”
Jiang Cheng taps his finger on the table as he looks down at the map. “That’s not even remotely close. You really can’t let it go this one time?”
It’s a rhetorical question. Of course he won’t let it go. It’s not in Lan Wangji’s nature to forget about something just because someone asks.
He watches as Lan Wangji bows his head to this. Even though they both know that he’s going no matter what, they always have to go through this first— Lan Wangji will always come asking for permission.
“I’m not your keeper,” Jiang Cheng says, a feeling of deja vu washing over him. They’ve had this discussion very often. “You can come and go whenever you want.”
That’s not what Lan Wangji wants him to say. He keeps waiting.
“If you want to go, you should go,” Jiang Cheng says.
“...”
He clicks his tongue. “Lan Wangji, don’t make this difficult.”
He still doesn’t answer. 
Jiang Cheng frown turns even deeper, and even Lan Wangji’s unhappiness is beginning to show on his somber, handsome face. Neither of them like the situation.
“The request came from the north watchtower in Yunmeng Jiang’s territory,” Lan Wangji says. “But not to Qinghe Nie, or even Lanling Jin. If even such a faraway sect was called, then it must be important.”
Perhaps, but importance is relative. If no other sect has answered this plea, then it must be so incredibly unimportant that none were willing to take care of it. Jiang Cheng certainly won’t be sending anyone to resolve this issue. But Lan Wangji is the type of cultivator that puts no interest in scale of calamity. He’ll go wherever he’s called.
It’s easier for Jiang Cheng to deflect, or say go if you want. That way, it’s still Lan Wangji’s choice. He has to make the decision. But Lan Wangji never accepts it when he says that. He always makes it Jiang Cheng’s choice, and they both already know what he’s going to say in the end.
If you leave now, you won’t be back in time.  I’ll send someone else. Just stay this once.
He says, “You can go.”
“But tomorrow,” he adds quickly. “It’s already evening. You’ll have to stay the night.”
They eat a meal together in relative silence. Jiang Cheng sends the attendants away, and Lan Wangji quickly gets up to sit beside him, so that their shoulders brush and their knees bump once. They’re both squeezed right in front of one small, square table meant for one person.
“Use your own table,” Jiang Cheng says, annoyed. “Do you want to share a bowl or something? If you have to sit right there, just bring it over with you.”
“Alright.”
Sitting facing one another is ideal when one wishes to have a conversation. It’s easier to see each other’s faces. But Lan Wangji dislikes small talk, and Jiang Cheng just isn’t very good at it. So it’s fine if they sit like that, close enough that they’ll brush past each other.
The food is good.
Before nine, they take a small stroll through Yunmeng. The town is bustling; everyone preparing for an upcoming Mid-Autumn Festival. The mood is light, cheerful. The Yunmeng Jiang disciples are fooling about in the streets and making a nuisance of themselves, yet Jiang Cheng doesn’t even have the heart to tell them off.
Lan Wangji sees it, too. He begins to call for their attention, but Jiang Cheng grabs him by the arm. “Don’t.”
“... Why not?”
Jiang Cheng ignores the question. His hand slips downwards, from Lan Wangji’s bicep to his hand, and walks on, dragging the other man behind him.
They walk along the near side of the lake perimeter, where fishing boats line the dock and lanterns bob up and down in the water. They take their time.
“You think I’m upset,” He says waspishly, after a moment. “I’m not.”
Lan Wangji squeezes his hand.
“I said you could go, so you should go without regrets. You’ve been frowning the entire evening. Don’t look so unhappy all the time.”
“Mm.”
Of course, it’s not like Jiang Cheng is unbothered by it either. But Lan Wangji doesn’t point it out, because he’s kind in that way. All that would that would do is cause irritation.
“They haven’t put up much of the  yet, but it’s close enough,” Jiang Cheng says. “You kept your promise, alright? I’ll accept this.”
“Mm.”
Their evening ends like this: they slip into bed together, somewhere between pleased and unhappy and warm— it’s no longer summer, and the nights are cool enough for them to lay a bit closer.
“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Wangji whispers.
“What?” 
“Sorry.”
Jiang Cheng pats his shoulder in the dark and replies gruffly, “There’s nothing to apologize for.”
(\\uh flashback begins i guess)
While the husband heads off, the wife stays behind. She manages the home and the children, and waits for her husband to return to her.
More than three years before this, Lan Wangji is to leave again, and Jiang Cheng has this particular though cross his mind. Leading a sect is nothing like managing a household, but still he blurts out, “I’ll come with you.”
Lan Wangji turns to him in surprise, and he forges on, “You said it was close to Gusu? I needed to see your brother anyway.”
In truth, he was going to go in about a month, but Lan Wangji doesn’t need to know that. When he fails to respond, Jiang Cheng arches a brow and says pointedly, “Unless you’d prefer to go alone, then I’ll find some other time.”
“Please.” Lan Wangji walks up to him and grabs him. He hugs him, and perhaps that’s the first indication that he’s as unhappy with this development as Jiang Cheng.
It’s three years ago, see, and they’re new to this. Still in the process of trying to explain oneself to the other, but Jiang Cheng is beginning to note that it just won’t work with them— they’re both incapable of explaining their thoughts clearly.
The only solution is to simply let their actions talk for them. Lan Wangji is very good at this step.
Jiang Cheng brushes him away carefully after an appropriate amount of time. “When were you planning on departing?”
“Tonight.”
“That works for me.”
Despite being brushed off, Lan Wangji leans forward again and takes his hand. He doesn’t seem to inclined to let go anytime soon. Clingy. He must be happy.
Jiang Cheng hadn’t realized it mattered to much to him.
They leave that evening quietly, without much fanfare. 
Lan Wangji is the sort of person that leaves no traces where he walks, quite literally. Traveling by sword becomes monotonous, eventually. They both take a moment to travel on foot— to which Jiang Cheng notices that even Lan Wangji’s footprints seem light, like they’ll fade in minutes, or at the slightest blow of the wind. There’s not a trace of dirt on his boots.
There’s no visible dirt on Jiang Cheng’s either, but that’s just because his boots are a far more sensible color.
“Is there something wrong?” Lan Wangji asks when Jiang Cheng spends too long staring down.
“No,” he responds brusquely while looking up. “Nothing.”
Lan Wangji doesn’t seem to believe him, tilting his head inquisitively. He reaches out to pat Jiang Cheng on the cheek.
“What are you doing.” It’s more of a statement than a question.
Instead of answering properly, Lan Wangji brings up both his hands and pulls Jiang Cheng’s lips up with his thumbs. He holds the position for a bit, looking at him
“Of course,”
(\\ i dont remember what they were doing here probably like bridal carry on a sword like a real couple but unfortunately jiang cheng is allergic to pda)
It’s absolutely juvenile. He feels like a youth fooling around, and he makes it clear to Lan Wangji. “This is ridiculous,” he says through gritted teeth.
Lan Wangji states, “You don’t like it.”
“Obviously. I feel silly,” Jiang Cheng says. “Put me down, we’re not doing this.”
Lan Wangji gently lowers him back onto the ground, and Jiang Cheng grimaces when he looks a bit crestfallen. Perhaps he’s made things awkward, by protesting. 
(\\ flashback finale, they found the bad guy and tricked him through a lot of self-indulgent disguising themselves as each other aka. the wearing your s/o’s clothes trope)
“You— you aren’t Lan Wangji!”
“Should I congratulate you for having eyes?” Jiang Cheng snaps, and pulls out Bichen. 
(\\bad guy should say “if ur not lwj who are you???!!!
(\\ and i have no idea what led up to this but jc is somehow so pissed he ends up saying “im his fucking wife!!)
(\\ i think jcs being like “time to torture him lol”)
Jiang Cheng says very evenly, “Go wait outside.”
“No.”
“Lan Wangji,” he warns, “You won’t like it. You should wait outside.”
Lan Wangji shakes his head. “I’ll stay.”
(\\ uuuh idk just wanted him to say “would you like for me to step on you”)
“You?” Jiang Cheng sneers. “And who could you possibly be? If you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re no one. You’ll never be anyone. You’re trash at my feet. Why should I pay you any mind?”
The man sobs as he screams, “I made you! I was the one! I made you bleed! I wanted it, and it happened!”
“And what would you like next, for me to step on you?”
(\\end flashback)
In the morning, they wake. It is not yet dawn, and Jiang Cheng is roused by Lan Wangji moving the covers.
He pulls himself upright. His back is stiff; he fell asleep in an odd position. While he arches and stretches wearily, Lan Wangji dresses himself, then hands Jiang Cheng’s own neatly folded outer robes over.
“Thanks,” he mutters as he hurriedly puts it on, moving on to tying up his hair, only for Lan Wangji to carefully remove his hands from their work, and taking it for himself.
The first time Lan Wangji had done this, Jiang Cheng had snapped at him to leave it alone. He really doesn’t need someone to tie his hair for him. Now he doesn’t even bother to complain. Still, it doesn’t stop him from attempting to braid it himself first.
Another meal. It similar to the one from the night before. And as soon as it is over, Lan Wangji will go.
Jiang Cheng takes him to entrance of the Lotus Pier, then gestures outwards. “Go on. I’ll see you in a week.”
Lan Wangji turns to him, carefully watching him. He could say, I’ll miss you. He could apologize. Neither of those things will be accepted by Jiang Cheng, so nothing is said. But still, he pauses, as if feeling that “nothing” will not suffice.
“Lan Wangji, are you a cultivator or not?” Jiang Cheng demands. “Go off and do what you need to do.”
Lan Wangji visibly hesitates once more, and he almost smacks him. So ridiculous! It’s not a big deal, what’s wrong with him?
Instead of smacking him though, he fixes up Lan Wangji’s already neat appearance. Smoothing out his smooth hair, untwisting his untwisted forehead ribbon, un-creasing his un-creased clothes.
“Don’t be such a fool,” he says, a bit softer than he intends. “I’ll still be here when you get back.”
Jin Ling arrives a few hours after Lan Wangji’s departure, ready to spend the Mid-Autumn Festival in Yunmeng. He finds his uncle working through a pile of papers, and upon looking around he says, “Uncle, I’m here. Where’s Hanguang-jun?”
“He left,” Jiang Cheng replies shortly. “The Qinghe Nie Sect is slacking off, as usual. He went off to go resolve some incident with a yao there.”
Jin Ling opens his mouth to protest, But that’s so far away! He’ll miss— but surely his uncle already knows. He thinks on it for a moment, trying to find something to say. “... You went night-hunting with Hanguang-jun before, right? Why don’t you go again?”
“Do you think I’m so free that I can just flounce off to wherever I want like him?” Jiang Cheng retorts. The fact that he’s still working even now is only further testament.
Jin Ling knows him too well to miss the wistful undertone, so he says cautiously, “Then… why won’t Hanguang-jun just stay here?” With you? “Half of the things he goes off to eradicate, they’re not even a big deal.”
Jiang Cheng looks up sharply from whatever report he’s been given to sign, and Jin Ling ducks his head and fiddles with nothing. They both know he’s thinking about what a family should be— a mother, father, maybe a child, living together, happily.
However, that doesn’t even remotely resemble the life Jiang Cheng has.
“If he’s happy not settling down in a single place,” he says, “Then it’s fine that he should do that.”
“But—” Jin Ling cuts himself off when Jiang Cheng glares at him.
“He’s the sort of person who hates sitting still when there’s still more he can do,” he says with finality. “If I really told him to stay, he’d be unsatisfied.”
Lan Wangji will always go wherever he needs to go. He’ll always do what he thinks is right. Jiang Cheng can respect that.
Perhaps he even loves him for it.
-- 
when i say rereading fma made me write this it wont make much sense (i wanted jiang cheng to be the unholy combination of izumi curtis and winry rockbell) but anyway welcome to zhancheng hell
18 notes · View notes
holydepths-blog · 5 years
Note
✩ jt & sienna
my wrist hurts from typing so eat ass 
Disagreements:
Who is more likely to raise their voice? sienna … like we get it he’s in a gang so he has to b mean to other people but both of them know she’ll kill him if he ever talks to her loudly in any capacity Who threatens to leave but never actually does? i feel like he’s a dramatic mf … like ummmm i can go any time i WANT to im not actually ur bf !! and she’s like yeah ur right leave and he goes :pensive: Who actually keeps their word and leaves? sienna . she would storm out of her own house for dramatic effect .  my girl doesn’t give a fuck Who trashes the house? she’ll throw sum at him …. prolly a pillow , she doesn’t need a lawsuit on her hands Do either of them get physical? not to imply domestic abuse is ever laughable but if (when? we dk) she ever came @ him … it’d be funny cos he cld literally just push against her forehead and her arms would not reach him How often do they argue/disagree? all the time, she disagrees simply to disagree w him Who is the first to apologise? her, solely because she’s Antagonistic on purpose and then feels bad 
Sex: 
Who is on top? she wants to take a ride on his disco stick Who is on the bottom? u heard me Who has the strangest desires? they both think the other person’s entirely normal behavior is freaky . jt wants to snuggle ? sienna: tf are we , puritans ? Any kinks? i refuse to take the bdsm test for her because i’m scared of what i’ll find so come back to me on this one Who’s dominant in bed? it’s exhausting being dominant in everything else so he takes the w on this one Is head ever in the equation? yethIf so, who is better at performing it? his beard is itchy so he compensates by being really fucking good at it Ever had sex in public? yes. they’ve had sex in the back room of the thrift shop more than they have upstairs in her apartment Who moans the most? can he shut the frick up Who leaves the most marks? sienna…………………………………. dont askWho screams the loudest? can SHE shut the frick up ….Who is the more experienced of the two? idk how experienced he is probably very but it’s important for me that u know she’s a whore Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? they frick Rough or soft? r**gh …. once a month she’s uwu ….How long do they usually last? for a long time , her poor thrussy Is protection used? yes. she’d kill herself before she got pregnant Does it ever get boring? no Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? they’ve had sex anywhere and everywhere 
Family:
Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? she would literally rather DIE than be pregnant. FOR THE PURPOSES of this section … they adopt (one) kid when they’re too old to be raising a tot but still try, don’t @ me. If so, how many children do your muses want/have? her ? none lol but AGAIN … i cannot leave this section blank and …. future purposes dont @ meWho is the favorite parent? sienna’s not a regular mom, she’s a cool momWho is the authoritative parent? she’s also a bitch though, don’t forget it Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? jt , mostly because sienna doesn’t want them around all day Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? SIENNA  …. yeah sorry that i don’t think it’s jordan ‘waahhh sienna i don’t want you to get mercury poisoning’ tucker …. mind ur fucking business maybe ? Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? sienna , but she drags jt with her so she has someone to bitch about soccer moms and how long [ insert activity here ] is running with Who goes to parent teacher interviews? jt , sienna isn’t allowed there anymore. it’s a long story. Who changes the diapers? bold of u to assume she would ever go NEAR a diaperWho gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? she’s fully decided she is INDEPENDENT and does not NEED him to wake up for moral support or to warm up a bottle … her tit is good enough Who spends the most time with the children? jt , she’s an ankle biter anti . ( she still  reads the kid bedtime stories every night )Who packs their lunch boxes? jt , sienna is not allowed to make health choices for ANYONE Who gives their children ‘the talk’? SIENNA … she tells them flat out what happens and why it happens , no bullshit . science babey ! Who cleans up after the kids? nothing ever gets cleaned up , ever. Who worries the most? jt . sienna is too cool and chill 2 have anxiety Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? SIENNA 
Affection:
Who likes to cuddle? he does … she’s super handsy casually but whenever it comes to actually hugging she takes a bit to warm up to it Who is the little spoon? she is …. he’s only allowed 2 snuggle her if she can fall asleep in his arms . nearly vomited writing that actually Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? right now ? sienna , trying to convince everyone they’re like actually really a thing . Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? sienna , and she denies it until her dying breath How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? sienna’s … ability to be uber affectionate with him is limited …. but she gets a lot better as time grows on . that’s character development Who gives the most kisses? jtWhat is their favourite non-sexual activity? dont ask me why my first thought was watching shitty b-rated horror movies …. she also makes him sort through clothes with her, and she promises it’s very theraputic Where is their favourite place to cuddle? bed . it’s much easier to get her to drop her mr tough guy act when she’s sleepy Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? neither , when they touch eachother it means BUSINESS , see two sections back How often do they get time to themselves? all the time , she runs away
Sleeping:
Who snores? i already know she does , dont judge her If both do, who snores the loudest? sienna Do they share a bed or sleep separately? share :3 not rn …… but they WLD If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? she’s ready to draw a partition down the middle of the bedWho talks in their sleep? sienna , and he makes fun of her for it What do they wear to bed? sienna steals clothes specifically from him  to sleep in. she’s also 10/10 a morning showererer so she’ll lit sleep in her clothes from that day and not give a FUCK Are either of your muses insomniacs? sienna never sleeps she runs purely on red bull and annoyance Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? yeah , she takes them most nights Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? side by side, though occasionally she’ll reach for his hand Who wakes up with bed hair? sienna, and it’s awful. he’ll get his ass beat if he mentions it Who wakes up first? jt. it takes her FOREVER to fall asleep , but once she’s out she’s out .  think being awake for 24 hours then sleeping for 12+ Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? he does, not to be romantic but because he’s sick and tired of her eating leftover fried rice in bed. What is their favourite sleeping position? she sprawls , and she doesn’t like to be touching him when she sleeps , but his presence is a good thing Who hogs the sheets? jt , simply because he’s so comparatively large next to her that using a reasonable amount of sheets reads as hogging Do they set an alarm each night? they both intend to — and always forget. when when it goes off, sienna sleeps through it Can a television be found in their bedroom? yes , but it doesn’t get cable like the one in the living room does. it’s exclusively for blockbuster rentals. Who has nightmares? she doesn’t have wake up in a cold sweat nightmares, but she has sad dreams a lot Who has ridiculous dreams? sienna makes up the craziest dreams to relay to him just to fuck with him Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? SIENNAWho makes the bed?  neither have the time What time is bed time? either 8pm or 4am, no in between Any routines/rituals before bed? her SOLE form of self care is face masks, and she makes him do them on the top half of his face where green gunk wont get in his hair Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? sienna is grumpy all the time, so it’d have to be him by comparison 
Work:
Who is the busiest? she literally lives at work, so there’s always something Who rakes in the highest income? considering she is a SMART , STRONG , almost business owner ( omg they popping BIG bottles when the old bitch that actually owns the attic dies ) and he thrives on tips and gang bullshit ? do the math. Are any of your muses unemployed? nopeWho takes the most sick days? sienna just opens the store and goes back upstairs to fake supervise in her sleep, call her if there’s a fireWho is more likely to turn up late to work? he is, it’s LITERALLY impossible for her to do that Who sucks up to their boss? paging ed, she’s her own fucking boss What are their jobs? he’s a bartender/gang fREAK , she manages the attic thrift store Who stresses the most? jt has a lot of long days to to the antics of alcoholics , she likes her job even though she wishes she was somewhere else Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? she likes it…. but she’s super depressed she isn’t following her dreams. i assume he likes whatever’s going on on the wrong side of town Are your muses financially stable? yes 
Home:
Who does the washing? jtWho takes out the trash? jordan tucker Who does the ironing? jordanWho does the cooking? mr tuckerWho is more likely to burn the house down just trying? see i would say sienna, but she DOESN’T try. Who is messier? sienna, but she’s not as much messy as she is disorganizedWho leaves the toilet roll empty? siennaWho leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? jt, he lit just took his shoes off in the thread ….. literally get off her couch Who forgets to flush the toilet? that’s gross. Who is the prankster around the house? if he pulls anything over on her in her house he’s kicked 2 the curb. she bullying he is fair game tho Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? sienna doesn’t drive, so him Who mows the lawn? what lawn Who answers the telephone? she pointedly ignores them Who does the vacuuming? see the other chore listWho does the groceries? ^Who takes the longest to shower? siennaWho spends the most time in the bathroom? neither of them , efficiency is key 
Miscellaneous:
Is money a problem? mo money mo problems is what i always say . it isn’t overflowing , but it isn’t an issue How many cars do they own? he has a motorcycle , she has a bike and two working feet Do they own their home or do they rent? she rents , technically , until she gets the store Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? dont ask this again mads still has not told me where we are Do they live in the city or in the country? SHE lives downtown , he would have to move in with her Do they enjoy their surroundings? she hates it , she wants a big city What’s their song? she played this on her record player , and she had one too many drinks and tried to dance with him to it ….. What do they do when they’re away from each other? breathe a sigh of relief Where did they first meet? the thrift storeHow did they first meet? when she literally made out w him unprecedentedly Who spends the most money when out shopping? sienna is always buying things at garage sales and other thrift stores she insists are to resell but then a week later they show up in her house or she’s wearing them Who’s more likely to flash their assets? sienna  owns one expensive thing and never lets it go. Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? they aren’t 10 Any mental issues? too many to countWho’s terrified of bugs? spiders are her friends Who kills the spiders around the house? if he does she’ll b mad at him that’s pablo , he lives in the corner Their favourite place? her apartment Who pays the bills? siennaDo they have any fears for their future? at this point probably the stress of staging a breakup Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? LOOK … i know it’s not the question but she surprises him with spectacularly unfancy dinners …. he shows up and they’re eating pizza rolls by candlelight because if she doesn’t cook them ahead of time he won’t let her eat them Who uses up all of the hot water? SIENNAWho’s the tallest? he is , she’s 2ft Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? sienna, the horndogWho wanders around in their underwear? [ me vc ] if he keeps barging in he’s seen her in a towel Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? neither of them , they DANCE What do they tease each other about? him about her poor life choices , her about his criticisms of her life choices . essentially she mocks him Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? sienna has to beg him to not wear a clean version of the same fucking clothes every day . he owns one outfit and washes it each night as far as she’s concerned Do they have mutual friends? no , they run in VERY different circles Who crushed first? [ tatbilb vc ] if anyone’s fallen in love with someone who doesn’t love them back, it’s not you. it’s kavinsky. he’s kavinsky. Any alcohol or substance related problems? the only water she drinks is watered down beer because it was cheaper, amiright lads? also she smokes a lot , have fun with lung cancer when you’re 40 sienna Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? sienna, and he was the bartenderWho swears the most? her 
1 note · View note
breeeliss · 6 years
Text
[Miraculous Ladybug]: Protection Detail
hellooooooo @the-number-4 !!!!! i’m your back-up secret santa from @mlsecretsanta !! im so so so sorry this is so late. between the blizzard that hit us last week and other irl stuff, i’ve been swamped. but i heard that you’re a huge fan of marichat so i thought that you might appreciate something cute and fluffy for them. i hope you enjoy!
Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]
Title: Protection Detail  Pairing: Marichat (Marinette x Chat Noir) Summary: Chat Noir takes it upon himself to become Marinette's first line of defense against the male teenaged jerks of Paris.
Protection Detail 
According to Ladybug, Chat Noir was developing a bit of a “publicity issue.”
Which, at first, seemed like such a lie because just last week Chat Noir was trending on Twitter for close to three days after a pretty heroic rescue involving an entire auditorium worth of helpless civilians trapped inside a theater. Not to toot his own horn, but it had been pretty spectacular, so as far as he was concerned he was riding on the coattails of a publicity success story .
Of course, then she had to clarify that she had meant his heightened publicity itself was the issue since he was apparently amassing far to much of it.
“That’s ridiculous!” he gasped. “We’re nationally renowned superheroes. How is us being well known an issue?”
“Us being well known is an unavoidable side effect. Giving your phone number out to a group of adoring fans so that they can ‘call you anytime they’re in trouble,’ however, is an extremely avoidable side effect.”
“I gave them the number to my baton. It’s not like it was my personal phone number.”
“You’re telling me you don’t see any negative consequences to this?”
Chat Noir waved away her concern. “They know it’s for emergencies only, my lady. It’ll be fine.”
It wasn’t fine. His phone was blowing up at all hours of the day for reasons that had literally nothing to do with being in danger. Chat Noir once answered the phone only to have a strange girl he didn’t know ask him what size underwear he wore. Why that information was pertinent, he didn’t know, but needless to say it took hours for Plagg to figure out how to program a brand new phone number into the thing.
It was about the closest thing to a scolding Plagg had ever given him which was sort of impressive when you considered the fact that Plagg hated taking anything seriously.
So, okay. Fine. Maybe giving out his work number to large crowds wasn’t the best idea.
But he was a public servant! A hero to the defenseless! A symbol of Paris! Making themselves available to civilians was part of their job. It was so hard to see collège students younger than him sitting in ambulances after traumatizing akuma attacks and not subtly hand over his number so that they could call him next time there was an issue. His heart bled for the people he was tasked with helping, and the only reason he developed this “publicity issue” in the first place was because he cared so much.
Besides. A couple of people here and there having his number wasn’t a bad thing so long as he didn’t let it get out of control again, right?
That hope didn’t come back to bite him until one afternoon when he was patrolling alone and his phone starting ringing against his hip. Assuming that it must have been Ladybug, he picked up and skipped over his greeting. “Hey, so I’m like three blocks away from that Indian restaurant we found yesterday if you wanna come join me. But if not, it’s cool, I was about to head home anyway. You all done with shopping?”
“...er...Marinette? ”
Chat Noir pulled the phone away from his ear and frowned at the very male voice that was talking to him from the other end. “Uh, I’m sorry, who is this?”
“ Um, my name’s Pierre? I’m trying to get in touch with a girl named Marinette. Is she home?”
Weird. Chat Noir didn’t remember giving his number to a guy like Pierre, and especially not one that sounded this old. He was sure he would’ve remembered someone like that. “You’re not exactly calling her house, buddy,” Chat Noir said. “How did you get this number?”
Pierre cleared his throat. “ W-Well, uh, Marinette had given it to me but I guess I must have dialed it wrong or something. Oh crap. You’re not her boyfriend, are you? ”
Marinette…Marinette? The only Marinette that Chat Noir knew was Marinette Dupain-Cheng from school but he didn’t understand why she of all people would have his —
Oooooh. Wait a minute. Hold on.
Chat Noir turned on his heel and looked back in direction he’d just come from. “Yeeeeah, you’ve definitely got the wrong number, man. Sorry about that. You might just wanna let this ship sail, though. If she really wanted you to call her, she would’ve made sure you had the right number before she left you.”
“ Wait, do you know her? Can you just give her a message for —”
Chat Noir winced. “Unfortunately my matchmaking services are closed on Wednesdays. Woops! But, uh, better luck next time I guess!”
He hung up the phone before the conversation got more awkward and checked the time. Only a little after five. Marinette was probably still running the registers at this time. Hopefully she wouldn’t mind him paying her quick visit.
Lately, Adrien had been getting into the habit of visiting the bakery in the mornings before school and directly after classes let out to indulge in some of the sweets that his father would never let him have. It was partially a convenience thing, but it was mostly because Mme. Cheng liked to sneak him extra treats when her husband wasn’t looking and ask him about how his studies were going. It got the point where he visited to often, he only really needed to walk in before Mme. Cheng had his order already charged to the register.
But one day he completely forgot he was transformed and walked into the bakery as Chat Noir while politely asking for his usual. Marinette happened to be running the registers that day and needless to say he surprised her and the rest of the customers with how casually he’d entered. He really needed to get better about remembering to detransform before he went on his errands….
Anyway, the good news was that if Chat Noir wanted free pastries, all he needed to do was visit Marinette when she was working — Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday afternoons — and trade in autographs as payment. For some reason, she didn’t seem too interested in keeping them for herself, but she swore she had a friend who would absolutely adore them and Chat Noir could live with that so long as she kept the chocolate eclairs coming.
When he finally got to the bakery, he plucked a napkin from the dispenser on the counter, quickly signed it, and handed it to Marinette. “A palmier and a penny for your thoughts?”
Marinette smirked and pocketed the autograph. “If this is about whether or not the bell around your neck is getting in the way of your manly image, I’m kicking you out the store.”
“No. Although I still think we should revisit that discussion.” He leaned on the counter and lowered his voice. “Do you remember that time I gave you my phone number after I saved you from that akuma? Told you to call me anytime you were in trouble again?”
Marinette nodded. “I remember. Although, I don’t know if it’s such a good idea for you to be giving that out to random civilians.”
Chat Noir pouted. “Ugh, you sound just like Ladybug. Anyway, back to the point. You wouldn’t happen to have given that phone number to a guy named Pierre, would you?”
Marinette’s eyes widened at the name. “Oh no. He didn’t call you did he?”
“He called me like fifteen minutes ago asking for you. I’m assuming that was on purpose?”
“Damn. I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I meant to call you and warn you about that after I got off of my shift so that it wouldn’t seem so random. I didn’t expect him to try calling me right after I left him.”
“Yeah, about that, who is this guy?”
Marinette rolled down and slipped on some serving gloves so that she could collect a bag of treats for him. “No idea. He was some première student that was flirting with me on my way back home. He kept touching my waist and asking for my phone number even though I kept telling him no. He was being really creepy and insistent about it so I sort of just panicked and gave him yours before I ran inside. I figured if he got you on the phone he’d think you were my boyfriend or something and just let it go.”
Chat Noir’s jaw dropped. “What a minute. A première student!?”
“I think so. He said he was seventeen I think.”
“And he was touching you without your permission?”
“Yeah, he was like trying to wrap his arm around my waist and pull me to his side. Super weird. Anyway, do you still like opera cakes? I can throw in a couple for you if you want.”
Chat Noir held up a hand. “Wait a minute, hold on, waaaaaiiiit a minute . Who is this guy? Where does he live? What school does he go to?”
Marinette shrugged. “I don’t know. Why are you asking?”
He scoffed. “Um. Gee. Because there’s this creepy dude that’s like three years older than you being a total tool and forcing you to give him your number when you’re clearly uncomfortable?”
“What are you going to go beat him up or something?”
“You do realize I’m a superhero, right? I could totally Cataclysm all the hair off the top of his head. Then we’ll see how many young girls he’ll go around harassing after that.”
Marinette chuckled. “As much as I appreciate how passionate you are about defending my honor, I don’t think you should do that. It’s not that big a deal.”
“How is a douche nozzle of a lycée student harassing a collège student for her phone number ‘not a big deal’?”
“Because that’s not the first or the last time a douche nozzle is going to come bug me for my phone number. Look don’t get me wrong, I appreciate your concern I really do, but I promise everything’s alright. You don’t need to go hunt him down.”
Chat Noir shook his head and absently took the bag of treats that Marinette handed him. “To think I wished him luck when I hung up with him. And he sounded so meek and innocent. What a total liar! Complete jerk! I can’t believe you had to give him my number just to make him go away.”
Marinette pulled him away from the display of macarons before he knocked it over with all of his gesticulating. “Hey, I really am totally sorry about that. I understand how that could’ve been uncomfortable what with you being a superhero and everything. I’ll try to make sure I don’t give it out like that again. I’ll come up with a better dodge.”
Chat Noir tapped the tip of her nose. “No. You know what? If anyone else from here on out is super insistent about asking for your number, definitely give them mine. I’ll handle it.”
“Oh no,” she groaned. “You’re planning something. What are you planning?”
“Nothing bad. At least not for you.”
“ Chat .”
“Worry not, princess!” he announced as he opened the door to the bakery and valiantly held up his food as if it were a knight’s sword. “Chat Noir is a hero to all, and I will not let this injustice against you stand.”
She stared at him flatly. “There hasn’t been an akuma in days. You’re bored. This must be it. You’re totally bored.”
“Nonsense, princess!” Chat Noir exclaimed, shocking the couple that ducked under his arm to enter the bakery. “My commitment to ensuring your safety is wholly sincere and not for my benefit in the least. If anything, this has officially become my top priority.”
Marinette shook her head fondly. “Alright, Chat. Whatever you say.”
Chat Noir bowed farewell and sent her one last pointed stare. “Don’t forget to call me if something weird happens.”
“I will, I will, I promise. Now shut the door. You’re scaring the customers and letting all the cold air in.”
After all of the akumas that were packed in tight all throughout last week, it seemed like Hawkmoth had finally hit a slump because there hadn’t been a single attack in days. Chat Noir and Ladybug had even decided to put the patrols on pause for a few days because the weather had gotten way too frigid to justify spending prolonged periods of time on the windy rooftops of the city. Maybe Hawkmoth wasn’t a fan of the weather either. Or maybe people were too busy hiding from the cold in their homes to bother being upset enough to get akumatized at all. Whatever the reason, Marinette wasn’t complaining. It gave her an excuse to catch up on all the sleepovers she owed Alya.
Marinette was leaving one of those sleepovers on Sunday evening and decided to brave the frigid weather and walk back to the bakery instead of making Alya’s parents forfeit their parking spot and drive her. It was a bit of a trek, but Marinette was bundled up pretty well and the exercise was worth it.
She was tightening her scarf around her neck when she realized just how dark it had gotten and how empty the streets were looking. Alya didn’t live in a particularly dangerous neighborhood, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to take such a long walk by herself.
Marinette frowned and scanned the rooftops. Chat Noir was usually out and about on Sunday nights. Maybe this wouldn’t be a terrible time to call in that favor he’d offered her.
Deciding his theatrics were worth the safe trip home, Marinette quickly dialed him and waited until he got his voicemail.
“ Hey there, this is Chat Noir. If you’re calling to ask for Marinette Dupain-Cheng she wants nothing to do with your creepy butt and if you have a problem with that you can take it up with me. Lucky for me it won’t be much of a fight, so choose wisely. If you’re calling to ask for me, I can’t come to the phone right now, so just leave a message and stay miraculous! Laterz!”
The voicemail beeped and Marinette placed her hand on her hip. “Chat, you really don’t have to be threatening all of these nonexistent boys for me. I haven’t even given my number out these past few days. I mean, I appreciate the thought and everything, but I don’t know how Ladybug is going to feel about you planning on beating up lycée boys.”
She pouted and started walking towards home. “Anyway, that’s not why I called. Uh, I’m on the corner of Violet and Tiphaine in the 15th arrondissement. I’m walking home from my friend’s house and I’d appreciate some company since it’s a long trip and it’s pretty dark outside. No rush, but if you wouldn’t mind meeting up with me, I’d appreciate it. And change your voicemail greeting for heaven’s sake!”
Silly cat.
Soon he’d be plastering his face on the news and announcing his new safety escort service to every single teenage girl in Paris. She didn’t think that caring too much would ever be a problem for anyone, but if Chat Noir was an expert at anything it was completely obliterating her expectations.
Chat Noir was usually pretty good about checking his messages, so hopefully it would only take him a few minutes to get to her. In the meantime, Marinette made sure to stay on the busier streets and keep her phone in her hands in case Chat Noir called her back.
She’d only been walking for about five minutes before she stopped at the crosswalk and caught the attention of a boy just a couple of years older than her who had just walked out of the supermarket on the corner. Marinette was busy checking her text messages and was startled when he tapped her shoulder and introduced himself. “Got a long walk home ahead of you?”
He didn’t look particularly suspicious, but his intentions were pathetically obvious judging by how poorly he was trying to hide his appraisal of her. Definitely not worth her time. Marinette smiled politely and kept her eyes on the crosswalk. “Not too far.”
“It’s a little chilly for you to be walking, isn’t it? Aren’t you cold in that skirt?”
Marinette kicked the side of her shin. “Thermals. I’m plenty cozy, don’t worry.”
“Oh come on,” he smiled. “Listen. I’m heading for the bus stop right now. Let me pay your fare so you can have a warm ride home.”
“The bus doesn’t stop in front of my house. Makes more sense to walk.”
He blinked. “O-Oh. Well, I mean…isn’t it kinda lonely walking by yourself?”
Marinette raised a brow. “Not really? I’m a big girl, I’m fine walking a few blocks.” The crossing signal finally flashed and Marinette took the chance to quicken her step and end the conversation. “Nice meeting you.”
But it didn’t seem like he had gotten the hint because he jogged across the street to catch up with her and grab her hand to slow her down. “Wait, wait, hold on a minute! You mind if I walk with you then? I’m sure we’re going the same way and it’ll make me feel better to know you got home okay.”
Marinette snatched her hand back and shoved it in her pocket. “I haven’t told you where I lived, so how do you know we’re going the same way?”
“Well, we’re walking down this street together, aren’t we?”
“Listen,” Marinette sighed. “I appreciate you trying to be nice, but I’d really rather walk by myself.”
The boy frowned and kept alongside of her while standing too close for her comfort. “I mean…okay, but I don’t see what the big deal is with letting me walk you home.”
Marinette’s smile was forced. “Because I didn’t ask you to walk me home, and you’re making me uncomfortable. So I’m just going to go on by myself.”
The boy rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, I guess. Can I at least get your phone number then?”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I should get going.”
“Seriously?” he scoffed. “What’s the harm? It’s just a phone number.”
“You know, you’re really persistent,” Marinette glared. “And that’s not a compliment. I just told you I don’t want to, so shoo!”
“I’m being persistent because you’re being nasty,” the boy complained. “It’s just texting, it’s not like I’m going to be a creepy about it. You’re pretty, and I just want to talk with you more.”
Marinette eyed the convenience store on the corner and wondered if she could lose the jerk in there. “Would you get lost? You are being creepy about this, and if you don’t cut it out I’m going to call someone.”
“What like the cops?” the boy exclaimed. “God, why are you being so frigid? Are you this rude to every stranger you meet?”
Marinette cursed under her breath and pulled her phone out so that she could fake a phone call to an imaginary boyfriend or something. Figures that the on the rare occasion she decided to walk all the way home from Alya’s some weirdo would be trying to accost her the entire way home. Whatever. At least if she meandered around the convenience store, she’d have a warm place to wait until Chat Noir showed up, and hopefully walking shoulder to shoulder with him would deter anymore idiotic behavior from strange boys she didn’t know.
But at that moment, almost as if the mere thought of him summoned him to the scene, Marinette heard someone loudly clear their throat above her.
“Is there a problem here?”
Chat Noir slid down the awning of the corner store and landed gracefully in front of the boy who had backed away a couple of steps and looked nervously between him and Marinette. She had to admit, for someone who wasn’t particularly assuming or intimidating, Chat Noir was doing a pretty good job of making the boy uncomfortable by brandishing his staff and clenching his fist as if he were two seconds away from calling upon his Cataclysm.
“A-Ah, nothing’s wrong,” the boy explained. “We were just talking. We’re friends, and we were playing around.”
Marinette snorted and linked arms with Chat Noir. “Hey, Chat. Thanks for coming. I have no idea who this jerk is.”
“Sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I was halfway across the city when you called. Lucky I came when I did though.”
“It’s okay. I appreciate you coming on such short notice.”
The boy furrowed his brows at the sight before him. “What’s going on here? Is he your boyfriend or something?”
“Are you her boyfriend?” Chat Noir countered. “Because if you aren’t, there’s no need for you to be walking her home.”
“Hey, man, I was just trying to be gentlemanly.”
Chat Noir swung his staff onto his other shoulder, and Marinette couldn’t help but laugh when the other boy flinched. “Gentlemen usually understand the definition of no. If the lady doesn’t want you walking her home, then you don’t get to walk her home. And you definitely don’t get to bother her for a phone number like you’re entitled to it.”
“I-I wasn’t bothering her —”
“Look, it’s really late. I’ve gotta get this lovely girl home to make sure more idiots like you don’t bother her, and then I’ve got a patrol to get to. So if you’re going to keep this up, you leave me no choice but to call the cops.” He shrunk his staff down into a baton and flipped open his phone. “I’ve got them on speed dial, so it really shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes for them to show up.”
“Alright, alright!” the boy said. “I’m gone, I’m gone. Jesus…”
Chat Noir waited until the boy turned the corner before he placed his hands on Marinette’s shoulders and checked her over quickly. “Are you okay? He didn’t touch you or hurt you, did he?”
“Oh, not at all,” Marinette assured. “He was just talking and being weird. But thanks for coming to help me. He was getting a little irritating.”
“Why are you always so flippant about this stuff?” Chat Noir pouted. “My offer to go beat him up still stands.”
Marinette smiled and tapped the bell around his neck. “I already told you. You shouldn’t be assaulting civilians. That’s not great for your superhero look. And I’m not flippant, I’m just used to it I guess. When it happens all the time, it just becomes annoying and inconvenient at most. I’ve picked up tricks on how to deal with it in case valiant heroes can’t come to my rescue in time.”
Chat Noir didn’t look completely happy with the answer, but he nodded and jutted his chin down the block. “Do you still want me to walk you home?”
Marinette winced. “If you wouldn’t mind? I want to avoid any more excitement for the night.”
“I understand. You mind if we take the scenic route? I don’t want to delay you by dealing with people asking for autographs and pictures.”
Marinette nodded and squeezed his arm tight while they turned down a less crowded street and made their way back to Marinette’s neighborhood. She expected him to fill the time with chatter, but he seemed abnormally quiet. She leaned over and saw that he was frowning thoughtfully at the sidewalk, so she poked him in the cheek and tried to get him to look at her. “Is something wrong?”
Chat Noir shrugged. “It’s silly.”
“I’m sure it isn’t.”
“No, it is, because you don’t want to make a big deal out of it, and I want to respect that.”
“I mean, if there’s something bothering you I want you to tell me. We’re friends aren’t we?”
Chat Noir laughed and dipped his head. “Yeah. We’re friends.” He subconsciously pulled her closer and kept an eye on the road as they crossed the street. “I don’t know, it just really bothers me to know that random guys treat you like that. And I know you’re used to it, and you can handle it by yourself. I’m not trying to suggest you can’t take care of yourself. I just get really angry on your behalf because it’s just so disgusting to me.”
“I guess that explains your voicemail greeting.”
“I want to make sure they come bother me instead of you! I didn’t want you handing out the wrong number and then have them come find you all angry!”
“Is that what that was!?”
“Of course! I’m not doing this because I want to get into fights. I just want to make sure you’re safe. Trust me, I know how stupid guys act, and stupid guys who are embarrassed about getting rejected like that will come and bother you about it. I didn’t want that to happen to you.”
Marinette bit her lip and snuggled up to his side. “Is that why you’re so serious about this? And why you get annoyed when I’m not as serious?”
“I don’t mean to be all clingy and overprotective, I honestly don’t. But this isn’t the sort of thing you should have to put up with. I’m your friend, and if you have to lean on me for this sort of thing, I want you to. And you wouldn’t be a bother either! I’m sure Ladybug would understand if I explained it to her. It’d be like a side gig, separate from akuma fighting.”
It was such a sincere explanation that Marinette couldn’t help from laughing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect this to be so upsetting to you. I really can handle it on my own, but…I’ll admit, that boy from earlier was making me really uncomfortable. I was relieved when you showed up.”
Chat Noir leaned down and whispered in between them. “He can’t be more than a few blocks away, Marinette, I can go give him just a little scare — ”
“Leave him be,” Marinette smirked. “I’m serious, please don’t beat up any boys for me. But…well, if you’re fine with me giving out your number to pushy people and maybe calling you if I feel unsafe walking home…I guess I can keep your number saved.”
Chat Noir grinned. “That’ll make me feel a lot better, thank you.”
She patted his arm and added, “I do still think the voicemail greeting is too harsh.”
“Aw, let me keep it. It’s effective!”
“It’s scary!”
“It’s a gentle warning.”
“At least take out the bit about the fighting.”
“Fine, I’ll tone it down a little.”
Marinette beamed at him and kissed his shoulder. “Thank you.”
Chat Noir blinked down at her and coughed into his hand before keeping his gaze resolutely ahead. “Yeah! Cool! So, uh, anyway…you think I can sneak a couple of pastries for the trip home? I skipped lunch today and I’ve been craving some tartlets.”
“I’m sure I can find you something,” Marinette promised. “Consider it my thanks.”
Chat Noir’s ears wiggled in excitement. “You’re the best Marinette.”
“Hey there, this is Chat Noir. If you’re calling to ask for Marinette Dupain-Cheng, she’s asked me to very politely communicate to you that she’d rather not speak with you or see you any further. If this is a problem, she’s asked me to handle any and all complaints. That’s right. Me. Chat Noir. Defender of Paris. Let that sink in. Uh...yeah, so if you’re calling for me, I can’t come to the phone right now, so please leave a message and stay miraculous! Bye-bye!”
923 notes · View notes
smurfettte · 7 years
Note
💎✖️️💕🍳🍭😂
DOTT IM SO SORRY I JUST SAW THIS TY
Im still using sm*rf bc i dont want it to show up in the tags its annoying and im sry
💎 - when and how did you discover your special interest?
Ooh this goes way back.
Well, when i was about nine my parents first seperated (they did twice, ultimately getting divorced 2nd time around) for a period of two years, and during that time we had very, very little money because my mom was a stay at home mom for years and had to get a job too, so we basically had to cut, like, everything/anything extra that we didnt need. The best my mom could do so we didnt get a total shock on top of everything was to get us the smallest cable package possible (im pretty sure it was way cheaper back then too, idk if even that would be manageable now) where we had just like, a little cluster of channels; one of those was boomerang. I was really, really sad about loosing cartoon network, so my mom hyped me up about being able to watch sm*rfs, even though i only had a very vague idea of what they were. From there, it kind of just became my permanent special interest. My mom and i watched it together a lot since her mom played into the really strange christian propaganda of “demonizing” cartoons that was everywhere in the 80s when she grew up. She would bribe her brother not to rat her out when she would sneak-watch it on saturday mornings and tbh that would literally be me
✖ - Is there something you Dont like about your special interest?
Definitely. The author of the original comics was uh… a really sexist, probably racist and a homophobic guy. Which, really shows in his earlier works – the full sm*rfette story is honestly much worse than the concepts of her origin that were kept in the cartoon. The 80s retelling is basically the comic but heavily censored for over obviously sexist content, while still being sexist in itself (just in a way where, maybe for younger viewers or a blind eye, its not obvious at first). Honestly just the treatment of most of the female characters is my complaint in the way a lot of them are portrayed, but especially sm*rfette. She cant do one self indulgent thing for herself without it being ridiculed or often portrayed as wrong, even when shes like the smartest and most caring person in the village. Its annoying and not a good message at all.
Also, it tries to be written as insanely het all the time and just isnt. Like its so gay and theres so many moments where youre like “ppl really tried to pass this as het…bitch” but time and time again… straight people think its reasonable that an entire village is attracted to. a single person (who most of the time heavily shys away from affection from men too, lmfao…). REALLY hoping the new movie addresses that in some way thats not bad, but im trying not to get my hopes up (ive got my hopes up).
💕 - Something you like about your Special Interest?
Honestly this is a lot of things, but i would have to say?? Like. Everything, except the things i dont like ^. Its constantly been such a comfort to me in so many ways. I love the characters, i love how it was my first real introduction to fairytale fantasy (aside from disney) and its just… so calming. Some people find it boring and annoying, but for me it was so easy to fall in love with and kept me company/calmed me down during some of the worst times ive ever had. Even when some of those worst times were because people would make fun of me for loving it.
🍳 - do you have a stim related to your special interest?
In a few ways, yea! I do!
I always compare it to this, but i think being surrounded in things related to it is a kind of visual stim that relates to the old woman who wants most everything in her house to be green. Just as it makes her feel calm, happy, and energetic, i have the same expirience but i sm*rf theme as many things as i can, and collect ALOT. I try to be surrounded by it as much as possible, and it always helps me to feel happy and calm. If im not in a space where its all around, i’ll have sm*rf things that i use day to day, like my wallet, cups, things like that. It always provides a feeling of happiness and safety.
Another for a physical stim is that i have a sm*rfette themed slime that one of my best friends made me for christmas! (He made a little white hat to put over the lid too, it was so sweet). Its a glittery blue, and has lots of gold, blue, and flower shaped sequins in it! i love squishing gooey and squeezable stuff. Textures like that are the best ever.
🍭- a headcanon/theory you have about your special interest?
This is gonna be long and im sorry i talk so much, but Brainy, Grouchy, Clumsy, and Fette (so i dont have to block out the full word again) are all autistic!
- Brainy expiriences a lack of empathy, tends to micromanage more than one usually would (especially if one of his special interests are involved/its something he came up with himself) and, as mentioned, expiriences special interests (a need for worldly knowledge – especially of magic, and for papa, who he constantly seeks to impress and be respected by, no matter what it takes. He loves him and wants to be just like him, and often does things for him out of the blue just so he’ll appreciate and recognize him + his potential). He stims by chewing (probably with the handle of a wand) and by writing + drawing swirly doodles on paper with his quill pen. He infodumps, and he usually lacks an understanding of social cues; this often leads to him making “bad decisions” being highly ridiculed, often overshadowed by his peers.
- Clumsy does not quickly process information + events, his comfort object(s) is/are his continuously growing rock collection/garden that he waters and talks to everyday, he stims by flapping and jumping, and is very uncoordinated. There are often ‘simple’ things that confuse him that he is unable to figure out quickly (like putting together things that fold up - chairs, foldable tables where u have to specifically press something, stuff like that. I think its an autistic thing even though im not able to describe it very well since ive struggled w it all my life myself and i always get weird looks when i cant do it) and his special interest is Brainy. Because he is physically incoordinated and processes information slow, though people do stick up for him, he can often recieve even worse treatment from those around him than Brainy does, on top of being easily able to manipulate due to him being so easily trusting and loving. Because of this, him and Brainy often do everything together, and eventually their mutual love for each other + relatability brings them to be almost inseperable (even if Brainy looses his patience more than he should sometimes). aka theyre boyfriends it rly shows
- Fette struggles with anxiety (as alot of autistic people, like myself, do) and has hyper-empathy. Similar to Clumsy, Fette seeks comfort in her flower garden and flowers in general, often holding conversations with them. This actually is a real theory, but she believes that talking to the flowers will help them to grow, and cherishes them as if they were people. She knows the name of every flower in the forest and could tell you at LEAST 5 facts about every single one. She stims by flapping, jumping, and chewing on her hair. Fette is quick to act to situations whether good or bad, and raised voices from others can often send her towards a meltdown (in where she retreats to her house for solitude to calm down + renergize). Though she loves her friends and being with them, she is an introvert and enjoys being by herself or with her flowers to regain energy.
- Grouchy uses echolalia to express his emotions and partake in conversations, while being mostly nonverbal. He often seeks company in animals or baby sm*rf (who i believe is also his special interest) because they bring him comfort and dont ask him to explain or change who he is. He is often very distant from most people, and only opens up to being around people he feels he can trust.
😂 - something funny about your special interest?
It just made me type up like. Disorganized paragraphs when im supposed to be packing up my shit 2 go to my moms. Also just the idea that a whole village could be attracted to a single person and no one else… funnie as shit my guy
3 notes · View notes