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skytimil · 4 years

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The heat?! Bakugou Katsuki

anon said: ”could you do a request with a werewolf!bakugou and reader where the reader is on their period, but baku doesn’t really know a whole lot about human stuff-when he smells the blood from you he gets anxious, like ‘!!?!’ and you’re like ‘nonono is ok’ but then you make the mistake of saying ‘it’s kinda like the human version of a heat.’ baku just LOSES it and poor baby starts panicking. as gentle as he can he practically drags you to bed all while you’re protesting and saying things like this -🐉 WHYDIDNTYOUTELLMEDUMMYIMSUPPOSETOTAKECAREOFYOUITSMYJOB and WHERESYOURNESTWAITOMGYOUDONTHAVEONE?SHITILLMAKEONEREALLYQUICKLY and he starts throwing blankets and shit around, WTHIAMYOURMATEYOUTHINKICANTCAREFORYOU? idk ive had this in my head for a while and think it’s super cute lol. like baku, while he doesn’t say it, likes to and takes pride in being able to take care of you since he considers himself The BestTM and to have you hide something from him makes him feels like he’s doing a bad job -🐉 “

A/N: I was so excited when I got this ask, this is so darn adorable aadgjad I hope you like it!! I made in the form of HC because I thought it would be easy, but then I remembered I suck a HC but I made something anyways. Thank you again, so much, this was seriously so much fun to write. Also, I don’t really know the werewolf universe, even though I read a few scenarios here and there, I hope this meets your expectations!

Words: 1.1K

Genre: Werewolf!au, fluff

Warnings: I think there’s cursing a couple of times, but this is pretty light-weighted

If you want to request scenarios, drabbles or HC, feel free to do so

You can find other works in my masterlist, if you want

_____________

Of everyone you thought of dating, you certainly never thought you would end up dating a werewolf.

Bakugou and you hadn’t been together for a long time though, the relationship was pretty recent

However, he knew you were his mate. And you knew he was your soulmate.

It was forever for both sides.

It was weird at first for you to think of dating a werewolf; but he explains everything to you and vice-versa, because he’s not very good at “human stuff”, like he says.

“Do you seriously have a day to celebrate your relationship with someone?” he aks when you two were out on a date and you talked to him about Valentine’s day coming up

“Yes, some people go overboard though, kinda cringe if you ask me.”

“Why don’t you celebrate everyday though? Is the other person worth celebrating only on that especial day?” he throws the question to the air, making you look at him with a smile.

“I like the way you think.” You receiving a smile back from him.

Today, however, was Valentine’s day and you asked Bakugou to spend the night with you in your apartment, nonetheless

He said yes, of course, after all, every reason to be with you was a good reason

You were both snuggling on the couch, watching a cheesy and cliché romance movie on the television,

That’s when Bakugou smells something different about you.

“Y/n?” he aks gently, interrupting the movie

“What is it?” you ask looking at him, with your chin placed in his chest.

“hum… something about you smells different”

“Different?” you aks and slowly you raise your arm to see if you’re smelling of sweat or something

“Not that. Different.” He states confused, not knowing where this could be coming from.

You quickly get off him and run to the bathroom, confirming your thoughts. You just had your period.

It was not supposed to come until a couple days later, hormones really are something.

You wash yourself and stick a pad on your fresh underwear, coming out of the bathroom to find Bakugou in front of the door, with his arms crossed, waiting for you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, walking up to you, and you can notice the anxiety in his eyes, even though he doesn’t want to show it in his words.

“Yeah I’m fine... it was just my period, I wasn't expecting it until a few days from now, though.”

“It was your what?”

“You know… menstrual cycle.” You shrug your shoulders but the confusion stays in his face

“Is that another human stuff?” he questions, genuinely trying to understand

You giggle at him being so clueless, it was like teaching a child

“Yes. Women bleed for a few days every month,”

“Bleed?? And you can’t stop it?” he goes from confused to terrified really quickly

“There are women who take a special pill, but I don’t really want to put chemicals into my body, I prefer to suffer.” you state, looking apathetic at the floor tiles “Does me bleeding makes you uncomfortable?” you ask a little worried

You didn’t want to ruin Valentine’s day

“I’m a werewolf, not a fucking vampire.” Bakugou gulps “But, what do you mean ‘suffer’?”

You think for a little while before coming out with something

“I guess the period is like the heat for werewolves.”

Oh what did you remember to say

Bakugou was now so stiffen he almost looked like one of the pillars of the house

You had no idea why he was suddenly so quiet and you waved your hand in front of him

“Earth to Bakugou”

“h- heat?!”

You stare at him confused. Truth is, you don’t know werewolf stuff as well as he didn’t know human’s

“I think so, I don’t really know what involves the heat, but they can’t control it, can they?”

“…no.”

“Then there you have it. We can’t control our periods as well.”

All of a sudden Bakugou had you by your wrist, guiding you to your bedroom.

“You could’ve said something before, I’m here to take care of you!!”

“It’s fine, really. Tomorrow is the worse day anyway”

“Tomorrow??! But I have to go out of town tomorrow, how can I take care of you?!”

“I’ll just take some medicine, don’t worry, can we go back to the movie?”

“Do you think that’s enough?? And NO WE CAN’T GO BACK I HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF YOU NOW!”

“Well, it has been enough, thankfully.” You just exhale. He’s exhausting, but so damn lovely at the same time, what makes you smile

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier, I can’t leave you alone on your period!”

Once you enter your bedroom you notice him looking everywhere, as if he’s trying to find something

“What do you need?” you ask him, glancing over his shoulder

“ME? WHERE’S YOUR NEST?”

You snort, taking your free hand to your mouth “My what?” you mutter trying not to laugh. Does he really thing you sleep on a nest?

Adorable

“NEVER MIND, I’LL MAKE YOU ONE REAL QUICK.”

He just sat you down in the middle of the bed, going to your wardrobe and taking out all the spare blankets you had there. “What are you-“

“I am taking care of you! You think I can’t take care of you?!” he throws the blankets around you, making a perfect “nest” around you, and then he enters and lays down next to you.

“I’m your mate, I can take of you.” he repeats, hugging your figure close to his body

“Can you stop saying that, of course you can take care of me”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I don’t care how bad it his. I’m your mate, it’s my job to keep you safe and to take care of you.” He throws an adorable pout.

“Stop that before I kiss you” you warn him

“As if I care”

You press your lips to his, hugging his torso back, pulling him into you. It was just a simple sweet kiss, like the new relationship you had been experiencing.

“Tell me, with this skill to make nests you probably had people following you everywhere, no?” you ask after you get back after the kiss

He looks at you surprised “How do you know?!”

“It was a hunch” you try to laugh silently, failing miserably ending up to laugh out loud, making Bakugou smile for seeing you happy.

He just hides his face on the crook of your neck and then “I love you”

You stop laughing so abruptly he almost thought you choked or something

When he returns to look at you, he sees your eyes filled with tears and starts to panic again

“W-what, what the fuck happened??”

“I—I love you too!!” you hug him so tight.

You really found you soulmate. Or mate, the term is not so unreasonable now

And hormones really are something.

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sunmoonandeddie · 4 years

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and grace, my fears relieved

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2,623

summary: You meet someone new in the most unlikely of ways during the quarantine in New York City. A hospital isn’t the worst place to meet someone, right?

chapter warnings: swearing, both steve and the reader have covid-19, but neither die

masterlist

a/n: Let me know what you think!

The virus started out inconspicuously enough, with just a few cases here and there that everyone assumed would be quarantined and taken care of, but Steve was paranoid. How could he not be?

He’d been a sick kid. Real sick. And then when he was a teenager, he got some revolutionary kind of treatment for his heart and lungs and it was like his entire body had been kickstarted. He shot up a foot taller and gained over a hundred pounds.

He had the stretch marks to prove it.

Granted, he had to work a little to gain as much as he did. After the treatment, the weight gaining workouts and diet plans suddenly worked. He looked… normal. And then he buffed up. Real big.

It came in handy pretty often with his job. He had become a firefighter, and carrying people out of burning buildings was often part of the job.

Fires still happened in a quarantine. If anything, they happened more frequently because people were home and the number one cause of house fires was unattended cooking. A parent could be cooking any meal of the day and then their kid distracts them and boom. Fire.

So he worked overtime, day in and day out.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t scared. He was scared shitless.

It was like his ma used to say, back when she was alive, “Just because you’re scared doesn’t mean you run away. You fight back for what’s right.”

Sarah Rogers had been a lot smarter than people assumed. She was a former socialite, and an Irish Catholic one at that. Her parents had an absolute conniption when she’d fallen in love with a former convict. His dad had been in and out of jail for petty things.

It certainly hadn’t been her choice to fall in love with him. But she had told him that if he didn’t get his act together, she wasn’t going to be with him.

He’d straightened himself up and become an outstanding citizen.

But that hadn’t stopped her family from disowning her. Once she refused to break up with him, she was out. Out of their house, out of their wills, everything.

She went from wearing Valentino and Chanel to items picked out at Goodwill.

But Steve’s parents had loved him more than anything.

He’d become a firefighter just like his dad. He wanted to help people just like him, and well… That’s what he was doing now.

Or had been, until his throat had started to hurt. And when it hadn’t let up three days later, even after a plethora of cough drops and teas, he went to the hospital.

It had only been about a month since it really started and the first dozen cases showed up in New York City. He’d been cautious—overly cautious, some might say—but he still had to go to work. And who knows how many people he’d come into contact with that had the virus?

It was still early days. He was able to get the test, and for that, he was lucky.

But then he had to go home and wait.

And then he got the call. He had to immediately go back to the hospital to be quarantined. He’d been put in a hospital room that was usually used as a private room in the Emergency Room—a trauma room, they called it. Trauma Room 2.

All of their other hospital rooms were taken. It was a lot worse than anyone had let on.

He was there for about twenty minutes before you got there, clearly terrified and holding a duffel bag full of clothes so you wouldn’t just have to wear the scratchy ass hospital gowns.

He’d only thought to bring two different pairs of sweatpants and a few sweatshirts, as well as his usual pairs of jeans.

But he was quickly finding that those weren’t too comfortable to wear while being quarantined.

Maybe he’d be able to convince someone to run down to the hospital gift shop to grab him something to wear. Some Brooklyn Hospital sweats or something.

“Hey.”

He looked up from his tablet, looking for the source of the voice. God, he was so tired. And everything hurt. There was only so much that honey could do for his voice.

“Hey! Over here!” The voice broke off into a coughing fit, and it sounded nasty. Real nasty. The kind of coughing that hacks up a lung.

He gets up out of his bed with a grunt, feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. And not the big, strong shoulders he had no. The weak little skinny ones he had before. The ones where he could barely lift a gallon of milk in each hand without getting overworked.

You’re sitting on the ground, taking deep breaths as you try to catch your breath. “Hey,” you said with a weak smile. “You got any cough drops? I ran out and my nurse said she was gonna try to find me more two hours ago.”

There’s no medicine available to treat the virus. So they just treat the symptoms.

And there’s a severe shortage of cough medicine amongst the patients, but no one really mentioned that.

“Yeah,” he said as he walked over to his little bedside table. He opened the drawer, pushing the Bible left inside to the side and grabbing the cough drops. He grabbed four little individually wrapped pieces before dragging his feet back to the doorway.

He couldn’t lie, sitting down looked really nice right at that moment. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest just from walking that short distance. So he sunk to his knees and leaned back against the doorframe, on the opposite side that you were.

Even though he’d become a firefighter like his dad, he didn’t understand how he could have such a strong faith in God when things like this happened. Sitting across from you, seeing how tired and run down you looked, he wasn’t sure he believed at all. How could a God that claimed to be so benevolent and loving do this? Or at least not step in and do something to stop it?

“Did you bring the goods?” You asked with a bit of a laugh, before breaking off into a deep cough. “Fuck…”

“Me, too,” he said softly as he grabbed one of the cough drops and tossed it in your direction.

You groaned as it landed behind you, shooting him a glare. “Do I look like a basketball player to you?”

Steve let out a snort as he grabbed another one. “Okay, are you ready this time?” He asked, raising a single blonde brow.

“Oh, my god, yes. Please, just throw it,” you said, but there was a slight grin toying at the corner of your mouth.

“What’s the magic word?” He asked. This was, quite honestly, the most fun he’d had in ages.

You gave him a look that said you’d kill him if he didn’t give you a cough drop. “Give me a cough drop before I break down sobbing because it hurts so bad?” You deadpanned.

“Okay, okay. No need to get dramatic,” he said before he tossed another one. This one hit your forehead before falling into your lap.

“If you want dramatic, I can turn into a Disney princess right now,” you giggled. Your voice was weak, but it was hard to muster up the energy to talk sometimes. Actually, not even sometimes. Most times.

He watched you for a minute as you worked the wrapper of the cough drop off and popped it into your mouth. “I’m Steve. Steve Rogers.”

“Well, hello, Steve. Steve Rogers,” you said with a giggle, your words slightly distorted from the hard candy in your mouth. You gave him your name as he tossed you the other two cough drops.

It was nice to have someone to talk to. It had been four days since the two of you entered the hospital before you had called out to him. And yeah, he still had his phone. He texted and called Bucky everyday, but it wasn’t the same as having a face-to-face conversation.

It also kinda helped that you were really, really pretty, even when you were sick and exhausted.

In fact, he couldn’t remember anyone that he thought was as pretty as you.

“Stevie?” You said a week and a half later. It had gotten worse. So much worse. You had breathing tubes in, as well as an IV. His wasn’t as bad. He just required the IV.

Your nurses tried to get you to stay in your beds, but they soon gave up the fight, choosing instead to help the both of you move your chairs so you could talk to each other, separated by a hallway.

“Yeah, doll face?” Steve’s heart was hurting as he watched you with sad blue eyes. You were wrapped up in one of his hoodies, drowning in the fabric. He’d gotten Bucky to run by his apartment and grab him some more comfortable clothes, though he’d had to leave it with a doctor and wasn’t allowed to see him.

They couldn’t risk it. “They’re talking about a second wave,” you said as you wrapped your blanket tighter around you, pulling your knees up to your chest. “They wanna start opening things in late May… But it’s too early… I…” You swallowed thickly, your heart pounding against your rib cage. “I’m so scared, Stevie.”

“Hey…” There was nothing he wanted more than to be able to walk across the hall and take you into his arms. “Whatever happens, you’ve got me. You hear me? We’re in this together, okay? And we’re gonna make it. We’re gonna make it because we gotta.”

That night, he waited for the lights to go out and for the nurses to switch over to the night shift. A lot of the nurses weren’t as vigilant about taking care of them as the day shift, and he knew he could use that to his advantage.

He knew this was risky, but he had to do it.

Steve carefully got out of bed and dragged his monitor behind him, taking slow measured steps. He’d waited about an hour after rounds, knowing that they wouldn’t be coming for another three. It gave him plenty of time. He tiptoed across the hall after ensuring that the coast was clear, slipping into your room.

The room was bathed in a soft blue light coming from the open curtains, a billboard outside flashing. You looked so peaceful, finally asleep after tossing back and forth for hours. The blue tones glistened against your soft skin. You were so quiet that his eyes instinctively flickered over to the heart monitor, listening to the quiet beeping that reassured him that you were alive.

He wobbled the chair over to the side of your bed, being careful not to drag it so it didn’t squeak and alert a nurse or doctor. When it was finally in place, he sunk into it with a relieved sigh.

Your nose scrunched up at the faint noise.

“Dollface,” he whispered as he gently caressed your cheek, his heart pounding. This was the first time he’d ever gotten to touch you. This was the first time he’d been close enough to even attempt it.

Your eyes fluttered open, blinking sleepily at him. “Stevie?”

“Hey…,” he said softly as he traced the patterns of her face. “It’s me… Don’t worry…”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. “We’re supposed to be—”

“I know,” he said as he gently scratched your scalp. “But I’m worried… And you need me.”

You slowly relaxed back against your pillow as your eyes searched his face. He liked when you were soft like this.

Well, he liked you all the time, but still. He liked you most when you were sleepy and relaxed.

“How are you feeling?”

With a shrug, you let your eyes close again. “I don’t know… I’ve been better.” A sigh escaped your lips as you opened your eyes again, trying your best to not melt too far into him. You didn’t want to fall asleep when this was the first time you’d gotten to feel him near. “We’re lucky… Our cases aren’t as bad as what others are going through…”

That was true. Others were on respirators, going into comas. You two were lucky.

And he was so grateful for that.

“I was thinking…,” he murmured.

A snort. “That’s never good.”

He gave you a look, raising his brows. “Apparently people aren’t… completely better even after they’re cleared of the virus…,” he said. He was watching your face carefully for any sign of a reaction. “And I live alone. And you said you have roommates but two of them are considered essential workers, which means there’s a risk of you getting it again… And I was just thinking…”

“Yeah?...” You probed, sitting up a little.

“We’re gonna need someone to help us… without risking the others that we love, and I just…” He coughed to clear his throat, his cheeks red. “I was thinking maybe you could move in for a little while? Maybe until all this has passed? And we can… we can…”

Your eyes flickered over his face. “We can take care of each other?”

Steve nodded, swallowing around the lump that had formed in his throat. “Yeah. We can take care of each other… I’ll have your back and you’ll have mine. And maybe it’s quick, but... ”

Can’t you feel it? He wanted to ask. Can’t you feel this thing between us? This connection that was found and fostered in possibly the darkest time of this generation’s existence? This love that made me think that maybe there is a Grace in the world? Because otherwise, how the hell would I have been able to find you?

But he knew that was probably a lot, even if the feeling he had when he looked at her was a little bit more than like.

“But… you barely know me.”

“That’s not true,” he breathed out quietly, a finger running down your jaw. “I know about your family. I know your first pet’s name and where it’s buried. I know that you like white Christmas lights over rainbow because you like how it can look like snow if it’s done right.”

Tears were in your eyes, your cheeks flushed as you listened to him.

A smile crept up on his lips. “I know you like the citrus flavored cough drops, and you have to sleep with a blanket on, even if it’s eighty degrees outside. I know how much you love cheesy rom-coms and you can only watch horror movies at night because otherwise you’ll have nightmares.” His forehead rested against hers, your noses brushing. “I know you. And I wanna take care of you. When we get out of here, I don’t want to forget you. I want to spend my life with you. And maybe that’s too much too soon and more than a little cheesy, but—”

“Stevie…” You were the one who leaned in first and pressed your lips to his, the salty taste of your tears mixing in with your peppermint chapstick. “I’m not easy to take care of. I’m even more stubborn when I’m feeling helpless like I am now…”

“That’s okay,” he said as he pecked your lips again, letting it linger. The two of you knew that a nurse could come down the hall any second and catch you, but it didn’t matter. You were together and you were alive. “I don’t need easy. I just need you.”

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve x you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve x y/n

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littlemrcaprisun · 3 years

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TW: major character death, mentions of illness/disease, extreme alcohol consumption

This time wouldn’t be any different than the last: Dani would pack up her bag, kiss her girlfriend goodbye and go stay with her mom for a few weeks. They’d go to doctors appointments, she’d give her mother poisonous cocktails through an IV that made Dani question how it even helped, and then she’d take the long drive back home. Every time the disease recurred the four of them; her two sisters and their mother, would spend hours discussing what the game plan was going to be. It never changed. Sofia was always too busy with school halfway across the country and god forbid anyone asked her to come care for her dying mother. Then there was Tiffany, the baby, she lived with Alcina but at 16 and in high school there wasn’t much the poor kid could do for their mother. So that was the end of it.

This last call felt different, Alcina felt more desperate for Dani to come, for both her and Sofia to come. Sofia made a promise to come at the end of the semester and Dani swore at her for five minutes while Alcina tried to calm her and Tiffany cried. Mother was dying and Sofia was wasting precious time with her. Dani told Sofia to go fuck herself and hung up and hasn’t spoken to her since. That was two weeks ago. Now as Dani pulls into the long drive of the mansion just beyond the family vineyard, she wants to vomit. How much longer would they have to do this? How much longer could their mother hold on like this?

It took her a full five minutes of standing outside the front door before she was finally able to knock. From the other side of the door Dani can hear the wheels of the IV stand getting louder as her mother approaches the door and as the door opens Dani’s breath leaves her body. Alcina has never looked this horrible. Her face was a hollow shell of what it used to be, dark empty eyes, unnaturally protruding cheekbones; but her smile was still warm and still felt like home. Dani refused to hug her, she couldn’t bring herself to do it, that wouldn’t feel like her mom.

“Hello, little ladybug.” Her voice doesn’t even sound right. It’s tired, raspy, just sick. Dani can’t even explain it any better than sick. “Oh, Daniela, please stop staring at me. I know I look atrocious, I have to see myself everyday.”

“You always look beautiful, mother.” Dani’s comment is quick and she brushes it off as quickly as it comes out. “Where’s Laughy Taffy?” Dani crosses into the foyer and throws her bag down next to the stairs to deal with later. The house smells more and more like a hospital the closer Dani gets to her mother’s bedroom. It feels far more familiar than the sickly sweet artificial scents her mother kept to try to cover the smell of disinfectants and latex gloves. Dani can’t help herself when she passes by but to open the door and peak inside. The sight should fill her with sadness but it makes her angry. The machines’ gentle hums sound more like laughs mocking Dani, the hospital bed sitting at 45 degree feels like it is sitting up and judging her, the pepto-pink emesis buckets stacked nearby make her nauseous. This just had to happen to their family. This just had to ruin their lives.

“They brought a new machine last week.” Tiffany’s soft melodic voice interrupts Dani from the rage building in her chest. “It’s so she can do all of her treatments at home now. I can show you how it works.”

Dani turns around and all but throws herself at her sister, pulling her not so little sister into her arms. “You can show me that stuff later. I wanna know about how you’re doing. You’re like 6 feet talk now, right? Almost as tall as mother.”

“Yeah… Last doctor's appointment I was around 5’8” or something.” Tiffany shrugs it off, trying to act like she wasn’t proud of her height, like she didn’t love towering over her older sister.

“Why did you have to go to the doctor?” That word was like a bad omen in this house. It left their mouths feeling dry and their skin crawling.

“Just my yearly physical for tennis. Don’t worry.” But worry was the only thing that they could do in this family. Every second was spent worrying whether or not Alcina was going to have another nose bleed, or if she was going to be able to get out of her chair, or if she would even wake up in the fucking morning. “So, has she talked much about this with you? Or is she keeping everything to herself again? The doctor had to call me again this time because she wouldn’t.” Dani tries to keep it casual as if this is the kind of conversation they have everyday, though at this point that’s what it was turning into. Tiffany’s face grows solemn and grows dark.

“She won’t tell me anything, neither will the doctors, but I know it’s worse. She is so sick. She throws up all night and her medicine is stronger and sometimes she doesn’t remember who I am…” Tiffany starts hyperventilating and Dani hugs her once again.

“Hey, hey. Don’t worry about it. It’s gonna be just like last time, okay? She’s gonna be sick for awhile, I’ll be here for a few months then she’ll start to feel a little better, then she’ll go back into remission.” Dani assures Tiffany, not realizing that their mother was standing behind them listening to everything.

“Tiff, my sweet, will you go grab my pill box from the kitchen? I forgot it before dragging myself up here.” Alcina makes them jump with her sudden appearance. Tiffany bounds down the stairs, ready and willing to do anything for her mother at any moment. “Dani, come here. We need to speak.”

They sit on the edge of the thin, firm hospital grade mattress and Dani knows the bad news is coming: a new prognosis.

“How long? Just tell me.” Dani looks down at the beige carpet, focusing on a faded stain where she had spilled grape juice when she was 6.

“Daniela… please.” Alcina reaches for her child’s hand but she pulls away. “Three months.”

Suddenly, Dani feels like she’s going to pass out. That’s the shortest time they’ve ever given her. Nothing hurt this bad, nothing had ever knocked the air out of her lungs like this just did. “Wh-Why? What happened? You’ve always been able to manage this and you’ve always been able to come back from this. You’ll be fine.”

“Ladybug, we always knew this would happen.” Alcina is trying to be gentle but that isn’t what Dani needs. Dani needs to know now.

“Mother, tell me, now.”

“It’s progressed. There is no chance for remission, there is no more treatment, there is nothing else. This is the end of the line, my sweet.” Alcina seems peaceful and that makes Dani angry. She wishes she could feel anything but angry. “I’m ready, it's okay. The medicine will help keep me comfortable until I slip away. It won’t be painful.”

“For you…” Dani’s eyes burn. “What about Tiffany? Are you just going to keep lying to her? She thinks you’re going to get better!” Dani doesn’t want to yell at the poor fragile woman but it just comes out but before she knows it her mother’s arms are wrapped around her holding her tight.

“We’re all going to be okay.”

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady alcina #lady alcina dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil village #resident evil viii

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gvaf-radio-blog · 5 years

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I was laying in bed trying to not think about the rejection when the crying fit started, normally it goes away after a bit but this welled up and I felt an emotion like onto a rage induced tornado surging through me and I pounded the floor screaming like I lost a limb to a bear trap and started to pray to God, keep in mind I am a Satanist, to either help me find a way to get the love of my life back or to give me the means to end my life. Satan was very understanding but reminded me to call them first next time since Satan never told me I was damned for being born pansexual and they did turn me on to better fashion and literature, sorry Satan.

It had been going on like this for the better part of July and there were several things going on in my life at the time one of those was a firm belief that I had grown too old, too fat, too broken to be any use to anyone other than to make others feel better and be target practice for the Russian Cupidi who seems very intent on making others fall in love with me on the other side of the continent, little fuckers have surprisingly deep laughs I found out . There was a person I was convinced was the love of my life because they seemed to understand me, never made unreasonable demands of me ( I thought) and to put it simply we could not be in a room alone ever. We worked well together in fact each time we would meet it ended in us kissing and tearfully saying I love you to each other while holding each other head to head crying. Everytime I heard a slight Russian tinged laugh. We were for a short time had an almost family, an almost family is where things are just off and need adjustments. I wanted tp make us a full family badly I wanted this family to happen because these kids were at one time treated like mine own, I am a simple and boring man except for the Cupidi and a stalker with cat ears who keeps leaving dead birds on my front stoop.

So yes I was that fool everyone has laughed at in a heart break fueled misery that pop songs and movies lie to us and say “ AH but tis only the third act! The two distant lovers will be reunited and the love song with start after the credits”. I want to start rounding up the con artist that make a living by filling empty headed children with these notions of true love or that love conquers all and sodomize them with live lobsters. I don’t want to violate ethically challenged people with shellfish everyday, just on those days when I have to deal with the doll eyed masses, ok so basically every day I was trying to give myself the benefit of the doubt. The Ex had asked me if the reason I wanted to get back together was because they were a “sure thing” I told her that they were really a long shot but if I didn’t try then I couldn’t live with myself. Fast forward a few weeks and several insulting explanations later and I am now turning over all the reasons I am broken goods and that I should not rise above my station because I deserve to be alone, i’m scum, I’m why baby jesus cries and milk spoils when I walk into the room. I started taking pot shots at the local Cupidi with my compound bow but it was hard to aim with eyes full of tears and the edible kicking in finally. I don’t know how to say fuck you in Russian but I think I know the sound of the word.

Next we find me red eyed muttering some gibberish that’s been fueled by what I would find out later to be a suspected mental illness that is only half way being treated with medication and therapy. To give you a funny and disturbing visual. After not eating or sleeping for several days I looked like what could be described as a cross between a fat Reinfeld and a goth George Costanza , or Meatloaf on a bad day. I give you options for your visuals, am I not merciful?

It’s now sometime between one and five A.M and I am looking up the price of the least expensive .45 handgun because I’m poor and I’ll be getting some extra money soon because I turn thirty nine in a week I do not want to be thirty nine so I start looking for american style solutions, happy fucking birthday. I chose this caliber because having some medical training and studying the wonderful world of trauma I got to see in full detail what a self inflicted head wound looks like and what a person's life is when the bullet doesn’t take enough grey matter. I didn’t want to be alive then I sure as hell didn’t want to live as a joke character from a Garth Ennis story so I was going to get a bigger bullet . America, fuck yeah.

so I started to make my final birthday plan and feel at peace with having my last ride of Clove’s, bourbon and a good pub hamburger then, Tchüess. BANG! Obviously I didn’t buy the gun to end my misery and embarrassment as my brain was telling me I needed, because instead my brain going into OH FUCK mode was throwing everything it had at me to save the ship. Then it hit pay dirt. I rediscovered a natural emotional energy that put my mind into a laser focus clearing the fog and lies away just enough to stop my self destruction and restart the rebuilding I began in the winter. The emotional energy that saved me from turning my head into goo goes by the name of pure fucking spite.

I realized that my idiocy levels had reached a critical mass when the Cupidi in hazmat suits who seem to be , in Russian , bitching about extracting me to go get recharged . They came down to take me back to a containment unit that will refill my cynicism back to optimal and lethal fuck off capacity. After my IV of coffee and Monster™ grape was removed I was set loose again into the wilds of Southeast Portland to reconnect my brain with seething hatred that I somehow misplaced my hatred during the heartache attack between Southeast Division and Southeast Clinton street where I was bludgeoned with a baseball bat by the woman who was wearing cat ears. I was on a time limit because I had to do this quickly and retract my steps before my appointment with a Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner at two P.M later that day. I managed to find my hatred , my senses and a new found desire to attack any human with those fucking anime cat ears on their head and entered the office and was treated like a human being not a Cro Magnon sociopath who might try to kill people on the train, it was a nice change of pace honestly.

We talked about my past trauma and some of the diagnosis that where off base and some that came close to the mark but the main thing we talked about was the depression, the depression that had me looking for a gun as a treatment plan. This Nurse Practitioner pinpointed everything that I had to hide from others or train myself not to do in less than thirty minutes, Let me give you a bit of perspective.

Most of the mental health professionals I worked with in the past used a method I call flow chart counseling, example:

Therapist sees me walk into the door, therapist will ask if I drink if yes how many drinks in a week, if no move on to the next question. Therapist: Mister Cromag do you drink?

Me: yeah, I like a good beer, or wine I take a shinning to good bourbons as well.

“Therapist now flows to follow up questions”

Therapist: How many drinks per week?

Me: Well, I like to have a drink that pairs with my dinner and some weekends I’ll have a bit more during games or socialization depending on who’s around.

“Therapist now moves down to alcoholism”

Therapist: how long have you been an alcoholic?

Me: I’m sorry what?

Therapist: You binge drink Mister Cromag, more than four drinks per week means substance abuse.

Me: No it means I like the taste of a stout. “Moves down the chart to denial”

Therapist: We need to find you an addiction specialist.

Me: You think my drinking is bad, wait until I tell you about my porn collection.

After that exchange I was referred to a physical therapist to help with carpal tunnel and after a traumatized therapist had to call security all while frantically trying to find a flowchart for the psychotically horny they made a suggestion about me having an Oedipus complex.

So you now see what I mean, a lot of professionals never got to the heart of it and there are other stories where I’ve had the professionals all but sneer at me when my symptoms are presented. So this Nurse Practitioner was a nice change of pace and with the discussion about my issues, what I thought I might have been dealing with (sometimes people see that I do have some form of intelligence and not just hit thing with club real hard unga bunga) we then worked out what medication I needed to treat the thing I was dreading, being diagnosed with Bipolar 1.

Bipolar and ADHD share many of the same characteristics and as I’ve learned if you have one the other is more than likely there it just needs to be screened for. Bipolar is also a hereditary form of mental illness which makes it a bit unique where others are mostly trauma induced but Bipolar just kinda waits for something to happen and when nothing does it creates its own fun. To add to this good time Bipolar is classified as a “mood disorder” your highs are hyperactive boarderlining and often going into a full true manic state of mind and body, not nearly as fun as it sounds. Then the lows are soul crushing affairs that amplify the depression and then takes the lies you brain tells you and creates a story based on people around you, your fears, past trauma and then makes you this poisoned lullaby cake that tastes like candy feels like medicine until you fall to your knees paralyzed and the fangs sink into your back and you see too late what is having you for dinner tonight.

So that’s a quick and blurry on Bipolar 2, I have Bipolar 1 which means I get all of that plus the added fun of hallucinations, and not the type Terrence Mckenna taught us about. These are things that just manifest as if they are real life like if you were in a film and it was edited without warning and in this new situation you now have to improvise a reality, any reality, this is why I take *drugs prescribed and other. The other issue is that it feels like my memories get remixed and things that happened now have a new twist, a paranoid hurtful twist. Good example of this is when I was making a terminal wishlist and believed that there were people who truly wanted me to die because I interpreted their actions as malicious. Another example is I was walking home to the apartments around ten or twelve years ago, I was walking home at the time with groceries and when I got through the front door there was construction going on at the apartment above me. I sleep days and at best i’ll get four hours due to shit employer, new born child, a girlfriend that was Sybil the next generation who completely refused to get treatment because she was a psych major and thought she was the heroin to overcome all odds in a lifetime movie. So on top of this my mental illness is not in check, no insurance and if I mention medication at work I could get fired.

I wish this was a part I made up but I mentioned I was on antidepressants at one time and they removed me from two positions back to entry level until I got clean off celexa, Not allowed to do the fun drugs and then punished for using the boring ones no idea why I stayed there for eight and a half years.

Back to the construction, I get home try to put my groceries away and one of the workers says he needs to do something in the bedroom I tell him to get bent , he calls me a fat fuck and I proceed to beat him bloody! Except it never happened, I woke up beating my fist bloody onto the tiled floor of the kitchen where I had started to put away my groceries until I jumped into this other reality, I’m just happy the kid wasn’t home because it might have scared her and made her cry and knowing I made her cry hurts the worst, I would have attempted that second suicide earlier. This freaked me out I’ve never had an hallucination like this I was scared, when I told then girlfriend hoping to get support or at least pointed in the direction on where to look she labeled me a schitzophrentic started talking to me as if I was going to flip out and that I was even more dangerous. I let that turn around in my head for years thinking that this was the linchpin to me being broken and with the way she talked to me I believed I didn’t deserve help. This was one of the main reasons I had to kill myself after she took my daughter away.

Like a few million other miserable , confused people out there I didn’t know a blessed thing about what was happening, I remembered the mental abuse and emotional abuse from the church, and some had argued physical and neglectful abuse I recieved at the hands of my family or my mother’s husbands who told my mother to no provide for me but instead buy him a new toy car. My step sister who somehow hates the knot headed reprobate more than I do stole his precious camaro and rear ended a Semi. After learning she was ok I fell on the floor laughing because all I could think about was this NASCAR addicted stunted man child calling his mommy to whine about a broken toy, to add to this mental image he was wearing a blue jean diaper and clutching a plush Richard Petty teddy bear.

There’s more but I don’t feel the need to talk about school bus drivers and me losing memory of one full year of my life, bullying at the hands of adults and children alike. I feel like that would be redundant and unfortunately all too common a story I’ve heard from so many people in my life, friends, lovers , coworkers the fucking homeless people who talk with me after I give them beer money. Leaving some of the genetic issues aside you bastards need to understand how wide spread some of these traumas are for fuck sake my motley of misfits are all walking trauma case studies and instead of getting help YOU people ridiculed them, or gave them the greatest useless sentence in the english language which is :

“Just get over it.”

Do you know what I would like to see? I want to see all of us survivors roaming the streets like that piss poor movie they claimed was a horror movie the Purge and with a list not unlike the list owned by the man that comes around Johnny Cash sang about during his song of the rapture, and I see men, women, and nonbinary people going to the address of those passive aggressive twits and beating them within an inch of their life, then carving into their chest (backwards) “get over it” then we move on to the homes of the rapists and tell them “you asked for this” before destroying their cocks with battery acid. The screams in the night would be glorious with the bats acting like percussion and the screams keyboard swells it would be like Front 242 unplugged. Maybe then the sniveling pretentious nra members out there will learn a bit. At best, it would be fair warning not to be passive aggressive asshole and learn a bit of compassion and mindfulness or to just get their heads out of their ass about battles they know nothing about if they want to avoid severe head trauma that one can not just simply get over.

Living with mental illness is not easy at any level whether a small bit of depression after a breakup or full blown PTSD after a brutal rape that leaves one unable to leave their house. Whomever has these afflictions are the ones suffering and your feelings of inconvenience or fear of those sufferers need to be thrown into the Willamette river, I would say you need to follow suit but there’s enough garbage in this river you can fuck off into a trash compactor.

Living is the hardest thing I do but I keep finding ways to stop the thoughts from taking over and I will and have done whatever it took to not die and sometimes the only way I was able to beat the mental illness was being bat shit insane. Some people think I’m a drug addict, others just think I need to talk to my old invisible friend, a few well meaning souls have suggested psychedelics and these people are pure and I will castrate any who try and stop them from their holy work from the almighty Bob. what I do need is to find that bitch with the **baseball bat and introduce them to a proper bonfire that I’m going to roast one of those little commie Cupidi on, oh yes I want my revenge for St Louis.

*the drugs in question are cannabis for the most part, when I’m spinning hard it helps tune me down and when the depression hits it shuts up the thoughts that plague me. Not a cure all nor is it a replacement for proper medication and therapy. I like to think of it a supplemental medicine that has the added effect of making Tool sound even more epic and letting me sleep peacefully.

** all wildy violent, funny and or cartoonish descriptions written about are there to be funny and entertaining no Cupidi do not exist and the Cat ear person does but the assault was less bloody and didn’t involve a bat but it was far more traumatizing.

#gvaf #bourbonsexual #mental illness #suicide #abuse #Gonzo Journalism

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lovemesomesurveys · 5 years

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On MySpace, what was in the last bulletin you posted? Most likely it was a survey. Man, I wish I could still access those. 15/16 year old me survey answers... yikes.

When and where was the last time you took a picture of yourself? In room a few weeks ago.

Have you ever been scolded by a mall cop? Not scolded, but one told me to take my hoodie off once. ha. He was cool about it.

How often do you catch yourself daydreaming? I zone out a lot.

What’s your favorite thing to think about as you’re falling asleep? I don’t have much control over where my brain goes. It likes to go some weird, random, and sometimes dark places.

Is there anything that you want to do, but you won’t do because you’re too afraid? A lot of things.

Who was the last person to yell at you? Not sure. I don’t get yelled at, but like my parents and I have our disagreements and get frustrated with each other sometimes.

Who gets up the earliest in your household and what about the latest? My dad gets up the earliest everyday even on the weekends when he’s off work. The latest is me.

Have you ever had a pet walk across your keyboard while you were typing? No. My dogs have always been too big to do that.

Which political issues are you most passionate about? I don’t want to get into politics.

You’re going to your favorite foreign country, so what landmarks do you go see? I’d love to check out many places in Sweden.

What’s the longest amount of time that you’ve spent away from your home? A week.

Did the last movie you watched have any emotional affect on you? I just saw Glass on Saturday, which was pretty crazy. In a good way.

What motivates you to go to school? I’m done with school, thank goodness.

How much caffeine have you consumed in one day? I used to always have coffee first thing and then a can of soda later on. Sometimes more coffee later that night. I haven’t had soda; though, in over year. Well, minus the sip I take with my medicine (I have to crush my pills and soda is the only thing I can take it with). Now I’m just about the coffee, twice a day. Nice, warm, big, delicious cups of coffee.

Are you more hyper and up-tight or laid back and relaxed? Hyper and upright don’t seem to go together in the way you paired these things, but I’d say I actually come off laid back to people who don’t really know me and probably just cause I’m pretty quiet, but really I’m more tense and anxious.

When was the last time you heard someone talking about you? *shrug*

How did you pick out your last outfit? I just grabbed some leggings and a sweatshirt. Not much thought went into it.

Are you embarrassed to bring people into your bedroom? I would be now.

When was the last children’s birthday party you attended? It’s been a couple years.

Are you good at reading other people’s body language? I think so. I could be taking it the wrong way sometimes, though.

If you’re sick, do you go to school or do you stay home usually? It depended on how sick I was. Typically, I’d power through, but there were times where I just couldn’t. There were times in college before I had a pretty big surgery for something where I was sick a lot and went to school with a fever and chills. I’d have to pop some Tylenol before class, sometimes even during, and just push through. Weak me today can’t relate.

Does chicken noodle soup really make you feel any better? No.

What’s one meal that you like to eat whilst sick? Usually I’m not much into anything because my taste buds are all messed up and everything tastes bland. And then depending on what kind of sick I am, I may not want to eat anything, really. I have to force myself to eat toast or soup in times like that.

Thinking of the last survey you filled out, did you enjoy it? It was okay.

Have you ever fed bread to ducks or geese? Yeah, before I learned how terrible it is for them. <<<< Same. :X

Is it hard to imagine you were ever as small as a one or two-year-old? Yeah. Such a long time ago. D:

What set the tone for your mood today? It’s only 1:56AM. So far; though, I feel pretty crappy cause of this cough and cold thing I have going on.

Have you ever set out to ruin someone else’s day? No. I would never intentionally do that.

Have you ever felt like the whole world was against you? Just like life in general, ya know?

What was the name of the last video game you played? Life is Strange.

What was the name of the last board game that you played? I don’t remember, it’s been too long. I love board games.

What was the last thing that you told yourself? *shrug*

How many times a day do you wash your face? I actually don’t. I just apply moisturizer sometimes.

If someone throws hot coffee on you, how do you react? Uh, well, I’d react to something HOT being thrown at me and be like WTF? I’ve spilled hot coffee on myself on accident, so I know it’s not a pleasant feeling.

Is there a high school or college that you would rather be attending? I’m doneeee with school.

Have you ever lived in an apartment or duplex home? Duplex.

Has anyone ever commented on your weight? Yes. I get told how I’m “too skinny” all the time.

What’s a show from the ’90s that you miss? I mean, I still watch a lot of my favorites from that time.

Who provokes your sarcastic side the most? My brother and I sarcastically joke around all the time.

Have you ever thought about joining the military? No. I couldn’t anyway.

When you were little, did you ever stare at disabled or “different” people? I was/am disabled and am quite familiar with the stares.

Could the contents of your bedroom get you in any trouble? No...

Do weather patterns sometimes have an affect on your health? Rainy, cold weather can give me headaches and make me achy. Hot weather makes me just absolutely miserable.

If it snows a lot where you live, do you experience cabin fever? It doesn’t snow here. :(

When was the last time someone disapproved of something you were doing? I feel like my family disapproves of me not doing things I should be doing pertaining to my health. I know they get frustrated with me for that.

Do you consider yourself to be approachable? I’m not sure.

How do you respond to cheesy pick-up lines? Laugh. I’ve been asked the whole, “aye girl, what’s your sign?” before.

How was the service at the last restaurant you visited? Fine.

Are you ever jealous of happy couples? No. I may feel envious sometimes, but not jealous.

How would you describe a thought that’s sticking with you today? I’ve been thinking about how crappy I feel.

Lately, who has spent the most time on your mind? No one in particular.

In a car, air conditioning or roll the windows down? Air conditioning.

Is there a new song or band you’ve discovered? I’ve come across some new music recently. I don’t really listen to music a whole lot like I used to, so I went on Spotify the other day and checked out some new stuff to add to my playlist.

What teacher gives you the most homework?

What type of personality do you find most annoying? Cockiness and arrogance.

Are you punctual? Yes.

Have you ever howled at the full moon? ...No.

Have you ever seen yourself on camera? Yes. EW. The most torturous thing ever was back when I for some reason took this “acting for the camera” class and we’d have to do monologues and skits that were filmed. The WORST part about that was the professor would play everyone’s tape in front of the class and we were to give constructive criticism. Omg it was horrible.

Do you give any consideration to what’s said in your horoscope? I don’t even read those anymore. Back when I used to, I was so opposite of how a Leo is always described. They’re always said to be confident and outgoing people and I’m just like, ahahahahah.

When was the last time you felt like you were being followed? Yikes. I used to feel that way sometimes whenever I had to go to the bus stop or was going home from the bus stop.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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agrestenoir · 6 years

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Five Times Gabriel Agreste Caught Ladybug in His Son’s Bedroom (and the One Time He Caught Chat Noir)

Title: Five Times Gabriel Agreste Caught Ladybug in His Son’s Bedroom (and the One Time He Caught Chat Noir) Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Pairings/Characters: Gabriel, Adrien/Ladybug Rating: Teen Notes: mentions of sex

“Adrien, your photoshoot has been moved.” Gabriel pushes open the door to his son’s bedroom, eyes scanning the tablet in front of him. “Nathalie will send you your new schedule for—”

His gaze flickers up, locking on the blonde sitting on the edge of his bed as well as the red- and black-spotted heroine crouched in front of him. Her hands on his knees, spreading his legs wide, face mere inches from his crotch, her blue eyes are wide with fright. A bright red has stained Adrien’s face, from the tops of his ears to the nape of his neck. Neither make an effort to correct their precarious positions.

There’s a stillness that follows his arrival, and all occupants freeze as they realize the predicament they’ve found themselves in. Gabriel’s mouth drops open, questions he’s not sure he even wants answers to on the tip of his tongue, but he still feels the need to ask.

“Adrien,” he begins, “Why is there a superhero in your room?”

“N-Nice to meet you, Mr. Agreste.” Ladybug flashes him a warm but shaky smile, hands slipping from Adrien’s knees to his inner thighs. “I was just passing by.”

The uncomfortable silence hangs heavy in the space between them. “Is there a reason you’re looking at my son’s genitalia?”

Adrien lets out a low groan, falling back on the bed with a muffled thump, and Gabriel double-checks that Ladybug’s hands haven’t moved. Grabbing a pillow, Adrien drapes it over his face to hide from his friend and father, refusing to come out for air.

There’s a quiet rustle as Ladybug pushes herself to her feet, giving Adrien a hearty pat on the meat of his thigh. “Well, Adrien, I’m happy to say you didn’t split your pants when you fell down the stairs.”

“Thanks, Ladybug,” squeaked Adrien from beneath his pillow.

The superheroine jumps onto the edge of the window she’d obviously climbed through and sends them both a small wave of farewell as she pulls back her arm and flings her yo-yo out into the city. With a zip, she’s gone, vanishing over the gate that borders the Agreste mansion. Gabriel reminds himself to change the locks on his son’s window.

Speaking of his son…

“Adrien,” Gabriel begins, but he’s not actually sure what you’re supposed to say when you’ve stumbled into a room with your son and your archenemy. For some reason, the Parenting Handbook didn’t cover this section.

“Please,” Adrien begs, finally relenting in his attempt to suffocate himself. “I fell down the stairs at school. I was just lucky Ladybug was swinging by and helped me home.”

Okay, he tells himself, it’s better than I thought. A superhero who is worried for her citizens is something he can accept, but the possible alternatives that could be occur still frighten him. For good measure, he tells himself to make sure that Nathalie has the Superhero and Sex Talk™ with Adrien later on.

“Next time,” he tells his son, “Have her drop you off at the front door.”

After the akuma that recently ravaged central Paris, Gabriel hightails it to his son’s bedroom because the akumas as of late have a tendency to seek out Adrien for some odd reason. (Honestly though, it’s cutting too close to home, and he worries that his secret might be found out, and then what is he supposed to do?) he last place he’d seen Adrien was buried under a stack of books in the top corner of his bedroom, reading about some subject for a school report, before the akuma had slipped in through a top window.

He’s serious about changing those locks now.

As soon as his hand touches the knob, the voices filtering out from behind the maple wood door are crisp and crystal clear. It leaves him shivering in his Florsheim Castellano Wing-Tipped shoes.

“—you could have died, you know.”

There’s a huff that follows. “I can take care of myself, Ladybug.”

“Seriously,” the superheroine says as Gabriel slowly pushes open the door, peering into the room with a curious eye. “The akuma had a bow and arrow. You know, a sharp thing. You’re gonna be a kabob one of these days if you don’t stay out of the way.”

Ladybug is sitting on the window sill, hands curled around the edges to keep herself balanced. Adrien, on the other hand, stands in front of her, arms crossed against his chest as he stares up at her with a wry smile. Both are too engaged with one another, lost between the words and quiet stares, that Gabriel steps into the room unnoticed.

“I can help you,” Adrien tells her in a serious tone, “Sometimes Chat Noir isn’t there, and you can’t do it alone.”

“You don’t have powers!” Ladybug says.

“I-I’m learning to… parkour!” Adrien snaps back.

“Use the front door,” Gabriel sighs.

Heads whip towards him at the sound of his voice, eyes wide with fright. Gabriel, meanwhile, side-eyes the climbing wall and skateboard ramp above him; perhaps he should have those uninstalled and smother Adrien’s superhero dreams before they can spark to life. It’s what every responsible supervillain father should do. He’s sure of it.

“S-Sorry, Sir,” stammers a blushing Ladybug. “He was in the middle of an akuma attack, Sir, and I wanted to make sure he got home safe.”

“Yes,” Gabriel says matter-of-factly. “You have a habit of saving the day.”

He’s sick of it.

“She’s just doing her job, Father,” Adrien interjects, as if he has to come to her rescue, and Gabriel really has to break him of that before he gets hurt. Even if he hates her, he admits that Ladybug has a point. Adrien needs to stay out of the way.

“Well I’m glad your safe, Adrien,” he announces before nodding to the window. “Ladybug, I don’t believe your services are necessary any longer.”

The superhero wastes no time taking her leave.

Adrien buries his face in his hands.

(Gabriel really needs to get those locks fixed.)

In effort to destroy Adrien’s dreams of being a superhero, he lays off the akumas for a week.

Paris throws a parade.

iii.

Ladybug’s wide eyes greet him the moment he opens Adrien’s door.

The smack of Gabriel’s hand smacking his forehead is audible in the silence that follows. This typical routine is getting too much for him, and he figures he’d have better luck if he created akumas to bodyguard Adrien versus the current plan of them wrecking havoc on the city. Ladybug seems to spend everyday in his son’s vicinity anyway.

“Is there a reason you’re in my son’s bedroom?” he asks her, too afraid of her answer.

“Physics homework,” is the only answer she offers though.

“I’m tutoring her,” Adrien supplies.

It takes him a moment to spot the textbooks strewn across the floor, the papers piled up around the pair as they pour over equations and theories. Both smile innocently as if they have nothing to hide, but Gabriel remembers being a teenager. He remembers what happens when they think they’re alone, when they develop things called relationships and try to hide them from parents.

Back in his day, physics really meant chemistry, and they studied the spring constant of mattresses (again and again and again).

“Ladybug,” Gabriel says politely, “Go home.”

“Father, she’s going to fail.” Adrien was very concerned.

Too bad, so sad. Gabriel always fails to steal the Miraculous when Ladybug and Chat Noir foil his plans, then at least he can return the favor with Ladybug’s physics grade. And protect his son’s chemistry grade.

After Ladybug has vacated the premises, Gabriel turns on his son with a stern expression. “Adrien,” he says, “No studying, sex, or saving superheroes.”

He doesn’t give him time argue.

He sends Nathalie an outline of his pre-approved Sex Talk to share with Adrien.

She emails it back with a note to “tell him yourself.”

It’s a traumatic experience for both father and son.

iv.

This time there are dark circles under Adrien’s eyes as he stares at the ground, refusing to meet Ladybug’s icy glare. He fingers the silver ring on his hand, the one Gabriel still can’t remember gifting his son with, the one that tugs on the corner of his mind, alerting him to some grand revelation he has yet to discover. Ladybug, on the other hand, stands across from him with hands on her hips and lips pursed in a thin line.

“Ladybug,” he announces, startling both from their showdown. “I see you still haven’t managed to learn how to use a front door.”

The glare Ladybug flashes him is full of frost and fear. It startles him somewhat, and it’s enough to freeze him in his tracks. “Don’t worry, Mr. Agreste, I was just leaving.”

To Adrien, she says, “If you knew, you should’ve told me.”

“You didn’t want to know.”

“This… This I would’ve.”

She disappears out of the unlocked window, and Gabriel changed the locks, and now he’s going to have an aneurysm. Adrien collapses in on himself again, and it’s clear he’s hurting but not in any way that can fixed with bandages or medicine. That much is clear. Gabriel wonders what he should do as he never learned the proper protocol for comforting a broken teenager.

Siri, how do I hug a fifteen-year-old?

He pats Adrien a few times on the shoulder. “There, there.”

Adrien cringes away from them.

Gabriel reads a parenting book for teenagers that night. It doesn’t help.

He makes sure to send Ladybug extra vicious akumas the next few days.

It’s the least he can do.

There’s a crash that pulls him to Adrien’s room a few days later. He is prepared to yell at his son for trying to parkour or whatever the fuck he’s decided on as his current hobby, but the sight that greets him is something he should have really seen coming. Ladybug and Adrien are against the wall, Adrien pinned under the superhero’s hands, as they kiss each other breathless.

Gabriel is not drunk enough to deal with this.

He slams the door clos as quickly as he opened it, still catching a glimpse of their startled faces and Adrien’s rushed, “You didn’t say no dating!” over his shoulder, and wishes that there was something he could do to stop his son from dating a superhero. Despite going against his wishes, he really hadn’t forbade him from dating a superhero, so honestly… his hands are tied.

Admit defeat when you’re wrong, the parenting handbook had said.

Gabriel decides to take one for the team.

He still buys Adrien a box of condoms and puts them on his bed for the next time Ladybug inevitably sneaks in through the window.

He could hear his son’s scream from across the house.

+1.

He opens the door to find Chat Noir perched on the top window of Adrien’s bedroom, one leg hitched over the sill as if he’s attempting to break in or out. From the bathroom, there’s the sound of the shower. Both superhero and father track the trail from the shower, to the open box of condoms on the bed, and to the leather-clad superhero sneaking into the bedroom.

“I-I can explain,” Chat Noir says.

“Please don’t,” Gabriel begs.

Chat Noir leaves.

The next day, Gabriel makes a sizeable donation to a local LGBT+ organization.

He has more parenting books to buy.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #ladrien #ml fic #gabriel agreste #gabriel #adrien #ladybug #my fic #my writing

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arabellaflynn · 7 years

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I keep going through cycles where I try to convince myself that there's nothing wrong with me, I'm just a lazy sod, and I'm whining over nothing. Symptoms are subjective. Nobody likes getting up early in the morning, they do it anyway. Nobody likes hot muggy weather, but they don't let themselves melt into a useless puddle on the bed all afternoon. Then shit happens, and I am reminded that not only are all the things I think are wrong with me actually wrong with me, I am usually introduced to a brand-new symptom that I didn't even fucking know was a thing. The tech who did my hip imaging mentioned in passing that low body temperature was a known feature of EDS. Judging from the comments I got when the nurse couldn't get an IV into me last week, and the fact that she tried to fix that by heaping me with heated blankets, I don't just think my hands and feet are always cold, or feel chilled when I'm short on sleep, I actually am having temperature regulation issues. I have kind of given up on asking people to diagnose me officially and just started telling medical people I have Ehlers-Danlos. If they ask where I got the diagnosis, I say 'me'. It hasn't started an outright argument yet, but I'm waiting. A word on medical self-diagnosis: Don't. If you want a few more words on it, don't bother unless you've already exhausted all the reasonable options, are willing (and able) to essentially put yourself through med school lite via getting your university-affiliated friends to steal things off PubMed for you, and are willing to concede the argument to your actual doctor if in fact you turn out to be wrong. Because you will turn out to be wrong a lot, and while your doctor might not actually know what you have, s/he probably has a better idea of what will outright kill you than some random yobbo who put a FAQ up on Squarespace and called it a day. This is also one of those things where I'm going to go 'do as I say, not as I do'. I've gotten away with a lot of incredibly dumbass things in my life. The fact that I'm here to tell you about them is just survivor bias. If any one of them hadn't worked out, you wouldn't be hearing the story. There's a phrase in medicine: "When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras". There are horses all over the world, but zebras only live in one chunk of Africa. If you hear something clopping up to your boring suburban practice, the odds that it's anything but your average everyday horse are extremely low. The odds of it being a zebra, however, are not zero. They do exist somewhere. Ehlers-Danlos patients have adopted "zebra" as a sort of collective nickname. The best research I can find gives a rate of 0.02-0.04%, although that's probably way low -- the severity of symptoms varies from person to person, and it's possible to just not have any idea there's a reason why your elbows pop backwards. So far all of the other medically bendy people I've run into weren't diagnosed until well into adulthood, simply because nobody thought to ask. There's no good lab test for hypermobility type, which is the one I have. They can test for genetic markers, but unlike some of the other varieties, HT is not associated with any one specific mutation, so it's kind of worthless. I am quite sure I have it anyway. It is the only potential diagnosis I've ever run into that I can explain without having to involve the phrase, "but I'm weird." Take anxiety, for example. The definition of an anxiety disorder is "huge amounts of anxiety that may or may not have any relation to reality or logic, but are nevertheless ruining your life," so I definitely have that. It's listed on my records as "anxiety disorder NOS" i.e., 'not otherwise specified', because it doesn't really fit any of the standard listings. Most anxiety is at least partly psychogenic -- you talk yourself into having panic attacks, or at least have a hard time asserting enough logic to talk yourself out of them. There's an emotional element of sheer terror. People who have panic attacks have been known to mistake them for heart attacks or strokes and hie themselves to the ER, more than once. They're not stupid, and they don't think the doctor's incompetent; it's just that when you're in the middle of it, the fear convinces you that, yeah, the first three turned out not to be pulmonary embolism after all, but what if this is the one you can't ignore? I always weirded out the psych personnel, because I don't do that. I always know what it is, I know that I'm not dying, and I know what they can give me to fix it. My stress levels are obviously high at that point, but it's always over some kind of life events that are legitimately stressful. 'Talking myself out of it' doesn't work because there's nothing to argue with myself about: I know I'm not in mortal danger, it just doesn't make any difference. When something startles me, first I hit the ceiling. Then, a few milliseconds later when it's time to file the Incident Report, my brain scrawls some completely random shit on the form, jams it in the outbox, and congratulates itself on a job well done. It immediately gets bunged through the reality tester, where it fails harder than an absentee stoner in a DiffEq course ("Mr Amygdala, you cannot throw the entire system into panic mode every time the Weather Service flies a Cessna overhead, on the grounds that it -- and I quote -- 'might be carrying a nuclear payload.' Unquote."), but it doesn't matter. The fight-or-flight thing is off and running. And I can't withdraw to calm down, because by that point, I am startled by almost literally everything in the entire universe, and there just isn't enough time between the air molecules giving me jump scares. Ehlers-Danlos is the only diagnosis I have ever found that would make all of the bizarre things I run into on a daily basis completely normal. It doesn't just explain all the crazy seemingly-unrelated shit that goes wrong, it also explains a lot of the crazy seemingly-unrelated shit that goes right. I span several Fächer in singing -- I'm not record-breaking or anything, but if I'm in regular practice, I can sing most of "Phantom of the Opera" by myself, less the Phantom's bottom note, and Christine's top 1-2 whistle voice shrieks. EDS is a collection of mutations affecting collagen production, and I bet you can guess what vocal cords are made of. The ability to hit the specific note I'm aiming for is a matter of practice, but I have extra singing range in my voice for the same reason I have extra rotational range in my hip joints. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2nrkCm7 via IFTTT -------------------- Enjoy my writing? Consider becoming a Patron, subscribing via Kindle, or just toss a little something in my tip jar. Thanks!

#IFTTT #Blogger #Unsolicited Advice

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