TMD; The Mighty Ducks; Preferences and Imagines

𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕕 𝕗𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

𝕒/𝕟: 𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕘𝕦𝕪𝕤 𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕟𝕠 𝕤𝕖𝕖. 𝕚 𝕔𝕒𝕟'𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 2 𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕤 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕚 𝕦𝕡𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕓𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤. 𝕚 𝕕𝕚𝕕𝕟'𝕥 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦. 𝕚 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕚'𝕞 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜. 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕠𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝕚 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕞𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕒𝕣𝕕 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕚'𝕞 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜. 𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕟. 𝕚'𝕞 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕙𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕥, 𝕚 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕒𝕕𝕧𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕤𝕠 𝕚 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕛𝕦𝕞𝕡𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕒 𝕝𝕠𝕥. 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪.  

𝔾𝕦𝕪 𝔾𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕖 

Guy paced back and forth in the living room, his face contorted with anger and disappointment. Emma and Andrew, his teenage twins, stood on opposite sides of the room, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The air crackled with the volatile energy of a brewing storm. Emma nervously traced the edges of the new tattoo on her forearm, a decision she made impulsively, unaware of the storm that awaited her at home.

"You can't be serious, Emma!" Guy's voice thundered through the room. "You know how I feel about tattoos. How could you do this without even talking to us first?"

Emma shot back defiantly, "It's my body, Dad! I'm old enough to make decisions for myself."

Guy clenched his fists, struggling to maintain composure. "This isn't just about your body, Emma. It's about respect. You disrespect me and your mother by making such a permanent decision without considering how we might feel."

Andrew, usually the peacemaker, chimed in, "Come on, Dad, it's just a tattoo. It's not the end of the world."

Guy turned to his son, frustration etched across his face. "Andrew, it's not just a tattoo. It's about trust and communication. Your sister should have talked to us before doing something like this."

Emma rolled her eyes, dismissing her father's concerns. "You guys are so old-fashioned. It's just a tattoo; it's not like I'm doing drugs or getting into trouble."

Guy took a deep breath, attempting to keep his cool. "This isn't about being old-fashioned, Emma. It's about respect for your family and understanding the consequences of your actions. You're too young to make decisions like this without guidance."

Emma shot back, "I'm not a child anymore, Dad! I can make my own choices."

The tension in the room escalated with each passing moment. You, desperately trying to mediate, stepped in, "Guys, let's all take a step back. Yelling won't solve anything. Emma, your dad has a point about communication. And Guy, maybe we can try to understand her perspective."

Guy shot you a look, his frustration evident. "Understand her perspective? She defied us, plain and simple."

Emma scoffed, "You're so overreacting! It's just a tattoo. Get with the times!"

The room was a battlefield of words, each sentence a weapon in a war of generations. The clash of ideologies and the clash of wills filled the air. You attempted to play the mediator, but the intensity of the argument seemed to drown out reason.