ive never tried to use that tag before im gonna give it a go

prince of cats

chapter three: the gentle fine is this

on ao3 || on ffnet
1 | 2 | 3

two things:

1. i remembered what i was going to say last week: this is a really REALLY cliche fic, so if you’re not into that you may want to rethink your reading, but also, this is me so i think everyone expects dcom
2. i accidentally put the wrong tags in ch1, and that’s been changed, but just so we’re clear, i’m using #proc ml and #prince of cats ml for this fic


“You are not my cat,” Marinette says simply.

Plagg meows in response.

She sighs and drags a hand through her hair. She now has to add ‘return cat’ to her list of things to do today. She would just leave Plagg be and let him run back to Adrien, but something tells her Plagg isn’t much of an outdoor cat. That something being Adrien’s reaction to Plagg making a break for it.

Also, Plagg looks comfortable in his patch of sun. If Marinette knows anything about cats, it’s that Plagg isn’t moving any time soon.

She crosses her arms. “You’re going to have to wait for me to change,” she tells him. She refuses to go knocking on Adrien’s door in a pair of ratty old pajamas with Sailor Moon on the pants.

Plagg just closes his eyes and turns his face toward the sun.

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okaY so ConSider ThIs–Mick’s medical skills probably aren’t half bad.

Like Len said, Mick’s always been the muscle to Len’s brains, and that means more often than not, Mick is the one coming home with the injuries, which he usually had to treat himself–Len isn’t an option, because as clever as he is with his hands, Len doesn’t really do gentle with anyone other than his sister (and sometimes not even then), and as a general rule, Mick doesn’t like to be touched by anyone that he doesn’t know and trust .  So he had to learn to administer medical treatment to himself.  He’s not a brain surgeon, but he’s about as good as someone who’s self-taught can be.  He knows how to check for a concussion and internal bleeding, how to stitch up an injury and deal with infection, and has a grasp of basic pain relief.  (He also probably knows how to deal with bullet wounds pretty capably as well).

Mick doesn’t really like to advertise these skills–they’re helpful when he needs them, absolutely.  That’s 99% of the reason why he cultivated them, but this particular skillset is distinctly removed from the version of himself that he likes to project.  Now, he doesn’t hide them either, but the ship can treat most other injuries, so really he doesn’t see much point in utilizing them when they’re unnecessary.

Ray is the first to find out.  Mick had meant it, after the gulag, when he’d said that they were even, and was personally content to leave it at that.  But Ray’s medical (and self preservation) sensibilities are terrible, and even though practically all his ribs are broken from that damn sledgehammer, his solution is to just go “eh, I’ll just bandage them and get back to work,”  because that’s how they deal with broken ribs in movies and stuff, right?  Wrap bandages around them and troop on?  Ray just makes the mistake of asking Mick for a hand bandaging them.  Ray winces immediately after, intimidated by the force of Mick’s glare, and pretty sure Mick is going to refuse his request for help on the spot.  He did not expected Mick to sigh in irritation because for fuck’s sake, sure, if you wanna die of pneumonia.  Instead, Mick does a quick check–running his hands along Ray’s ribs, trying to ensure that none of them are in danger of puncturing a lung.  Then, he firmly steers Ray into bed and gives him painkillers, as well as stern instructions to rest.  The rest of the crew coos at this, though Mick maintains that he was not doing a nice thing, he was just preventing an act of egregious idiocy.  No one actually believes him.

Sara is next.  She does not get injured so often anymore (I mean, it does happen, but more often than not she emerges from ridiculously dangerous situations utterly unscathed, a skill of which the rest of the crew is very envious).  But her old wounds might as well be fresh ones, some days–there was no time for proper healing on Lian Yu, and certainly not as a member of the League of Assassins, where you either got up and kept fighting or were left for dead.  As a result, many of her old wounds still pain her–a knot of scar tissue just under her arm that aches fiercely when it rains, a knee that hurts to move when she overexerts herself (which is hard, but not impossible).  Before joining the Legends crew, she would have masked her pain.  She’s gone years just gritting her teeth and pushing her way through.  But the more time that passes with the team, the less her instincts tell her to hide the pain–the more comfortable she is letting herself be seen at her weakest.  Now, on her worst days, after particularly brutal battles, she’ll give up on it altogether, and limp through the Waverider to collapse on the couch (yes, the Waverider has a living room, because I say so).  Now, the team will all try to comfort her in their own ways.  Jax and Ray will sit on the other side of the table and play board games with her.  Stein tries to replicate Clarissa’s mac and cheese (he cannot, but the effort is thoroughly appreciated), Rip will quietly postpone their next mission, and Len offers comfort as non-obtrusively as he can.  But Mick? Mick shows with a heat compress and a liniment for her knee and some advice–(lay on your side and put a pillow between your legs, it will straighten your spine and take the pressure of your injury) from old injuries of his own.

Jax (and by extension, Stein) find out the extent of Mick’s medical expertise in the field, when Jax takes a bullet in the side.  He’s hemorrhaging fast, flames flickering out as he unfuses with Stein, who looks so worried that a heartattack may be a legitimate risk. They’re far from the ship–but not from a nearby medical clinic.  Before the rest of the team can process what’s going on, Mick is pressing a jacket (requisitioned from Snart) to Jax’s side, and rushing him into the clinic, where one of the doctor’s takes over.  That should be the end of it, but Mick has had more than his fair share of bullet wounds, and backseat drives the fuck out of that medical procedure, because there’s no need to be so rough, doc and if I’d wanted him to bleed out I would have left him out there, jesus and basically just glares and intimidates until the doctor, in frustration, pushes the tools into Mick’s hands, because “you do it, then!”.  Mick shrugs, and does the job more neatly and efficiently than the doctor could have hoped (much to the man’s chagrin).

After that, the rest of the crew starts coming to him for everything.  For such a violent, large person, Mick is surprisingly delicate when treating injuries, with a feather-light touch.  Most of the crew discovers that they prefer being treated by Mick (who tries to avoid causing them pain, and who is almost sympathetic when he has to) than they do Gideon in the medbay.  Kendra gets a cut on her leg while sparring? She’ll hop, leg dripping, to his room and knock on the door–”Hey Mick, can you take a look at this for me?”

Stein thinks his back is acting up again? “Mr. Rory, would you mind terribly advising me on this?”

Even Rip gets in on it, though he argues that its because when he’s injured, he likes being able to receive treatment in the comfort of his own quarters.

Every time, Mick grumbles, don’t you guys have Gideon for this? I thought this ship was from the future–.  But every time, he takes a look at it, because he just knows that if he refuses they’ll just stand there looking sad and mopey, before limping off to the medbay, and for fuck’s sake, he’s not heartless (and maybe he likes knowing that he can use his hands for something other than destruction, but that’s another beast altogether)

TL;DR–consider Mick Rory, entirely against his will, becoming the team medic (and sighing because, damn, if he doesn’t step up, these idiots are all gonna die.)

(PS, let it be noted that, inevitably, there may be some basis in batmanisagatewaydrug’s headcanons in here, particularly her headcanons about Sara’s old injuries causing her pain, because her headcanons are so good that I can’t help but think of them as ingratiated into canon.)

anonymous asked:


this has been in my drafts for ages bc my meta muse has been pretty dried up, but i had a thought today that made me go YAASSSS

ok, so i was thinking of that scene in AWE after they find out Will betrayed them to Sao Feng, and Jack spouts all these insults and sends him to the brig, looking all cold and serious. And i mean, we know Jack has no compassion for mutineers, but we never see that brand of coldness and hatred and disgust aimed at Elizabeth, even though her betrayal was worse. 

Whenever Jack does show his contempt for her, it’s usually through sarcasm and jokes and humor (”oh! she’s not told you?” “your charming murderess”) and just such a general “Elizabeth, what’s good?” attitude. 

And sure, he exudes bitterness, but you never quite feel that he hates her. I mean, he puts a little too much charm behind his insults, to compensate for how little he actually means it, to hide how much he’s hurt rather than angry.  Really, it all feels forced, like snarking at her is something he has to do, like it’s a matter of pride rather than actually hurting her feelings.

And do i even need to mention this moment? 

He completely drops all pretense of being angry at her, and it’s only been -what, a day? There is not a trace of bitterness or anger there, and he’s still hurting but now he’s hurting for her.

Or when Beckett says “and what about miss swann” AND JACK GOES ALL MURDER EYES “WHAT IS YOUR INTEREST IN HER”? the amount of protectiveness in that simple gesture is baffling, like, not even in the previous movies, when they were on good terms, was he ever so fiercely protective of her.

And let’s not even talk about that parachute scene, holly shit.

Maybe it’s bc in awe Elizabeth suffers the most, but it’s when we see the real depth of Jack’s love for her. What’s more, it’s the ONLY movie in which we see him being so tender with her, or so protective. Before it was all fun and games, teasing the hell out of each while denying any deeper feelings, but in awe he just doesn’t give a shit anymore, he’s too far gone and she’s in too much pain.

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ok so by request heres some more mentally ill newsies fam headcanons (a bit of an extension on this post) and before we begin, since there was some confusion last time, im mentally ill and this isnt romanticization, it’s a coping mech. enjoy. tw dissociation, past child abuse, disordered eating, self destructive behavior, homophobia

  • speaking of coping mechs, betting is racetrack’s lmao it gives him a sense of control over his money and habits and stuff like that even tho realistically hes got less control over it than he used to back when his parents used to take nearly everything he made, before he ran away
  • if he doesnt get to go down to the races at least a couple times a week he starts getting real anxious and twitchy and snappy so even though sheepshead is technically brooklyn, both jack and spot let him sell over there
  • jack’s super tactile because it’s really grounding for him & makes him feel connected and present. like just laying a hand on davey’s shoulder or putting his legs in someone’s lap while theyre just chillin helps him remember that he’s u know..a real person. in a real place. and not just lost in his head or whatever
  • he hated the refuge for a lot of reasons but one of the biggest is that snyder used to isolate him and keep him away from the other kids bc he was such a troublemaker so he literally had no way of grounding himself and it was distressing and scary and bad and he dissociated a lot because of it
  • a lot of the guys have weird relationships with food bc they dont get a lot of it so sometimes they get to a point where theyre just..forgetting to buy food. it happens to the older ones a lot bc theyre, u kno, saving their money for an apartment in a couple years, or a new pair of shoes for the smallest newsie, or a jacket for winter. and food becomes sidelined
  • usually tho they all make a habit of checking in and being like, dude did you eat today?? well did you eat yesterday then?? no? ok we’re getting something now. theyre all a little fucked up but they care about each other so theyve all got someone watching their backs
  • davey kinda feels like he’s invading this family space at first and he tries not to be intrusive or assume anything and he doesnt realize how much everyone actually cares about him until he doesnt sell for two days bc hes sick and wakes up in the middle of the night the second day to like ten newsies on his fire escape trying to figure out if hes ok
  • comfort objects….most of them have one or two…jack’s got a book about santa fe that he knows by heart and also his sketchbook, spot’s got his cane, boots has his marbles (haha)
  • theres…a lot of self destructive behavior that goes on. like, nobodys gonna stop any newsie from really doing anything or going anywhere unless its a turf problem so theyre free to do really ill advised things that they know will make them feel shitty bc. they just want to
  • not everyone makes a habit of it obviously but like. yeah. jack hangs around near the refuge sometimes just to hate it more and sometimes spot sees his family on the street and follows them around for a bit because fuck them ok he’s the king of brooklyn and he can do what he wants. hes not the same 12 yr old they kicked out for liking boys. and who cares if just seeing their faces makes him want to throw up
  • they monitor the headlines for each other in an attempt at a trigger warning for the guys who might be set off by something in the paper. thats why jack and race and the older guys always get their papers first so they can scan it and like if some woman was found murdered in an alley and they know that the newest kids dad died in a similar way, they can warn them not to look at that article
  • sometimes theyre not fast enough to warn the person though or sometimes they accidentally get triggered themselves and those are really bad days bc you cant really sell while youre having a panic attack. and usually the person will have already bought their papes, too, so every divvys them up and sells em and gives the money to the guy at the end of the day bc it’s not his fault
  • after crutchie gets out of the refuge he and jack talk about it a lot in private and just like. get it all out. bc its a fresh trauma for crutchie and an old one for jack that hes never been able to properly talk about bc nobody gets it, but now crutchie does get it. and it really helps the two of them to heal and feel better about the whole thing
  • theyre all definitely a family with a really good support system and i know ive been focusing on the manhattan newsies with a couple references to spot but trust me its very similar in brooklyn and the other boroughs bc theyre all in kind of a sinking boat together you know
  • the separate boroughs start working together a lot close since the rally and the union got formed obviously and everyone kinda figures out theyve been doing the same sorts of coping mechs and behaviors and building the same kind of support systems entirely separate from each other
  • theyre all a union, the newsboys union, and theyve always been acting like one

A Patrochilles Hunger Games!AU tidbit based on these amazing headcanons.

“So Patroclus,” Caeser starts with an easy smile and Patroclus tries to mirror it. It feels off on his face; itching his cheeks. All of the Capitol has made him feel wrong, but he smiles even if he wants nothing more than to sneak onto the next train back to District 4 and forget this place forever. “What is it that you think is going to set you apart in the Games?”

“Ah, well,” he hesitates- and how could he not? He’s not used to all of this light shining directly on him. He grew up just one step behind the brightest boy in his District, the attention has only ever made his tongue feel heavy. But he has to say something, and he keeps smiling. “I, um, I work in the rigging of the ships, so I’m pretty light on my feet I guess.”

“And, I imagine, handy with ropes,” there’s a smattering of laughter from the audience and he nods. Caeser looks out at them with a smile and Patroclus shifts in the blue suit that was fashioned for him. He’s supposed to look like some long-forgotten sea god. He walked in with a blunted trident that leans on the back of his seat now, towering over his head. “You were a volunteer though, surely you’ve done a lot of preparing for this?”

Patroclus shakes his head, staring somewhere over Caeser’s shoulder. He’s not seeing the crowd stretched out there, instead he sees golden hair and clever fingers. Fingers that stroked his face and tied knots that never came undone. He sees the smile of the boy he would give himself over to death a thousand times to save. “No. Achilles- he was supposed to be our Tribute- I love him too much to send him here. I volunteered for him.”

There’s gasps from the crowd, but Caeser doesn’t seem affected by the apparent scandal. It’s not so uncommon in the District, though people valued Achilles too much to ever speak out against their relationship anyways. “That’s a powerful love, Patroclus.”

He thinks of the way Achilles says his name. It’s something he misses here, where people say it too quickly like they’re eager to be rid of it. Eager to be rid of him. Pat-ro-clus. Even and measured, always with music on his lips. He smiles and this time it feels real. “Achilles is everything to me. There’s nothing that will stop me from getting back to him.”

He lifts his head and looks directly into one of the cameras they have trained on him, his fingers twitching and twisting in his lap. “I guess that’s what’s going to set me apart. I love him, and I’ll kill anyone that I have to to prove it.”

Woozi Fic 12

im sorry this ones a bit long but yeah hope you like it! and again sorry for these massive text posts XD

“Jihoon, you really don’t have to walk me home. I’ll just call a cab.”

Your boyfriend grasps your hand and walks out of his dorm building with you. “No, I want to take you back,” he insists.

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