#as a french person I literally never heard any of the two he played

[unhingedgoat]

Foolish listening to the most niche versions of the french birthday song is actually hilarious, why did it sound like christmas songs

[themultifanshipper]

Charles was shocked into silence. How could he not have noticed? He had known you for years and yet, he had never been so turned on in his life, just from hearing you speak.

Warnings: gn!reader, french!reader, cum play? GRATUITOUS amounts of french! Like half the dialogue is in french (with translation). This is entirely self-indulgent! Charles is really stupid in this I’m sorry but it’s for the plot, also he started out dominant then I decided halfway through he should be submissive, then switched back again. Barely proofread, it is 4:30am as I am writing this, sue me. There is disgusting stuff involving cum, and I’m kinda considering this crack because I can’t take french seriously.

Bon appétit, this is a wild ride my friends.

You had been working in formula 1 for most of your adult life, going from media teams to personal assistant, to lots of other jobs that finally led you to your dream job: race engineer.

Well, your dream job was really being a team boss, but baby steps, yeah?

Anyway, you had been promoted to race engineer to the one and only Charles Leclerc following the whole Xavi thing. But before that he’d known you as his assistant for a bit when his own assistant was on maternity leave, and before that you had been the media trainer for a few teams, including Sauber when he was there. He’d literally known you since his debut, and the two of you had grown very close over the years, and saw each other every week. So the fact that he could have missed something like this was embarrassing.

You were at the end of a race, going on about the tyres overheating to Charles over the radio when the car in front of him locked up and slid, forcing him to swerve and hit the wall with a sickening crunch.

You gasped as you saw the car make contact. “Oh Putain, ça va Charles ?” (Oh fuck, you ok Charles?) You spoke into your headset but there was no answer, and Charles didn’t seem to be moving so you tried again “Charles, tu m’entends? Est-ce que ça va?!” (Charles can you hear me? Are you ok?)

He finally replied in a shaky voice, and you were finally able to breathe and call the staff that would go get Charles and his car off the track.

Unbeknownst to you, Charles was having a mental crisis. You spoke French?

Since fucking when?

His ears were ringing as he tried to think back your years friendship for any signs. He came up empty. He was positive he’d never heard you speak French before. And he was positive he should not be hard, climbing out of his car after a crash.

When he got back to the garage, you were waiting for him, ready to ask him how he was but before you could say anything he grabbed your arm and dragged you into the nearest room slash maintenance cupboard he could find.

“What the hell are you doing Charles?”

He locked the door and when he turned back around his eyes were dark and stormy “Since when do you speak french?” he asked.

You just blinked at him.

“What?”

He backed you up against the wall, hands either side of your waist.

“Since when” he spoke patronizingly slowly “Do. You. Speak. French.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion.

“Charles, I am French. I have a French name. I was born and raised in France! What the fuck do you mean ‘since when do I speak french’???!”

His eyes widened as he realized how oblivious he’d been.

“My dad is friends with Pierre’s parents! I started my career at Renault! I brought you wine from my family’s vineyard! Charles how-  how could you not have known?” You laughed at him as he just stood there flabbergasted at his own stupidity.

“Sérieusement? Comment?” (seriously, how?)

His brain seemed to reboot and he put his arms around you “Je suis désolé, je suis vraiment débile” (I’m sorry, I’m so stupid) he giggled into your hair.

The proximity was odd but not unwelcome, as you put your arms around him and laughed with him, inhaling his pleasant scent.

“Tu as mis du parfum? Tu sens bon. ” (Have you got cologne on? You smell good)

He groaned. “Keep talking, please” and he squeezed you tighter against him.

You laughed. “Tu sais bien que je parle toujours en français avec Pierre et Este ?” (You know I always speak french with Pierre and Este, right?)

He whimpered into your neck and that’s when you felt it.

You froze in his arms “Charles are you getting hard?”

He put his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes, both of you going cross-eyed. “I’m sorry you just sound so sexy in french” he sniffled.

This was definitely something you could get behind.

“Ouais? Tu veux que je te parle en français pendant les courses alors? (Yeah, you want me to speak to you in french during the races?)

He chewed on his lip and nodded as your hand made its way to the front of his suit to cup him over the fabric.

“T’es sûr? On voudrait pas que tu salisse la voiture, tu devras expliquer aux ingénieurs pourquoi le siège est trempé” (you sure ? We wouldn’t want you to make a mess, you’d have to explain to the engineers why the seat is wet)

He whined and his knees almost buckled, so you turned him around against the wall and unzipped his suit, dragging it down to pool around his ankles, then making quick work of the second layer, leaving him in his very damp underwear. You pulled that down as well as you got a hand around his cock and started a slow pace, teasing the tip with your thumb every now and then. He bucked his hips and whined at the dry friction.

“What’s the matter? Un peu sec?” (a bit dry?) You said teasingly.

“Laisse moi t’aider avec ça” (let me help you with that)

You got down on your knees and his eyelids fluttered as you got your lips around his tip. When you took half of him in your mouth and reached a hand up to cup his balls at the same time, he moaned and thumped his head back onto the wall.

You pulled off “Garde les yeux sur moi, Charles” (keep your eyes on me, Charles)

He did so , with much difficulty, but his eyes snapped to yours and you continued, taking him all the way to the base and massaging his balls gently. His hips bucked up a bit making you gag slightly.

“désolé, je vais pas durer longtemps” (sorry, I’m not gonna last long)

So you picked up the pace and doubled down on your efforts, as his hands flew to your hair.

It took about a minute and a half for him to come, groaning your name while he filled your mouth. He felt like his soul had been sucked out through his dick. You didn’t swallow it all though, wanting to share the load, as it were.

You got up and pulled him in for a kiss, which he gladly accepted, and it was the most disgusting, satisfying kiss you’d ever had, all teeth and spit and cum, some of it dribbling down your necks and chests.

You stayed like that for a while, basking in each other’s embrace (and each other’s mouths) before you suddenly remembered where you were.

“Charles! Don’t you have a press conference to go to?!”

“Je m’en fous, je reste là” (I don’t care, I’m staying here)

He lifted you up and carried you to the other side of the room where there was a conveniently empty shelf, where he set you down before tugging your pants down and spreading your legs to slot himself between them. He was already half hard again as he pumped himself with one hand and used the other to swipe up the cum on his and your chests, then brought his fingers to your entrance, rubbing gently before sliding a finger inside you. It didn’t take much for him to prep you and he used the excess leftover cum to lube himself up and slide into you. You keened as he pressed up into your most sensitive spots. But he just stayed there, grinding slowly into you, driving you mad.

“Please, Charles!” You begged, pronouncing his name the English way.

He cocked his head and grinned at you, and you sighed in desperation.

“S’il te plait… Charles”

His jaw went slack as he used all the energy he had left to pound into you, right in that special spot that made you see stars, over and over until you were a whining mess underneath him.

You came with a shout, back arching off the shelf and he held on to you as he followed soon after.

Charles Leclerc got a heavy fine for not showing up at the post-race conference, or the debrief, or any of his mandatory duties. Fortunately, he had enough money to pay the fine, and take you to dinner that very same night.

[schlattslonghairytoes]

paint me like one of your french models 🎨

A.P calc teacher schlatt x A.P studio art teacher reader

Mr. Schlatts halloween party takes quite the turn.

Once all the girls at the table calmed down, their only request was that they were filled in about your weekend plans on monday, to which you actually agreed

now the hard part was picking a cute costume for you and schlatt, i mean he didn't really seem like a costume kinda guy

there was 20 minutes left in the period and you needed to find something fast

it was the last class of the day and schlatts party was tomorrow, and you knew you wanted to hand make yours and schlatts costume 

so you turned to the six bright eyed girls you had grown to love

your class was very relaxed, if they did their work and you would play music games and movies, your students loved you

but these girls ADORED you.

it was alanna, deyvn, natalia, lucy, renn, and kezia.

they were all so genuinely themselves, and they made you feel like you were one of them, they told you EVERYTHING, and i mean everything.

each one had such a different personality, yet they all were so close. You were gonna miss them next year

you slid your wheely chair over to their table and called for their attention

“Girls, im calling a meeting, i need your help” you sighed and looked around at them

"thats funny considering youre the teacher." alanna giggeled to herself

"shut up al, i wanna hear about her and mr schlatt" kezia said, suddenly paying very close attention, she never cared about classes, but gossip, oh she would have an A+ if it was a class

"dont be rude, anyways, as you heard before, me and ja- Mr. schlatt. are gonna have a matching costume for his party tomorrow and you guys are much cooler than me, what should we be?" you begged

each girl began searching pintrest and finding ideas until renn found something she deemed great

"ok, lightbulb! you guys should be adam and eve" everyone began to protest her idea but she continued on "everyone shut it, hear me out. number one hes religious, right? number two your bodies tea. you would look hot as fuck. cmon its a great idea."

"renn let me get this straight, you want me to wear a leaf over my cooch? and boobs? to a school function? with other teachers from this school??? yknow what your on a ban, no more ideas from you"

they all started hysterically laughing as renn raised her hands in surrender "any ideas that i can wear without being slut shamed by the schools faculty?" you asked

natalia was up next " what if you did flynn and rapunzel, wait no, actually tell Mr. Nivison to be Flynn, ugh hes so hot, why not match with him." that began a four minute argument about weither Mr. Schlatt was hotter, or Mr. Nivison

"can someone please lock in and find me a costume?" you begged over their debate

"okay i might have an idea." deyvn said, "ok so what if you were the starry night and Mr. schlatt was van gogh." she suggested, before i could even comment lucy butted in

"wait that would be so cute, ugh you never shut about about van gogh either! you could wear a little dress and like paint the starry on your face, or on the dress, and schlatt could do like an ear patch thingy, and the hat he wears, wait i love this!"

they all began throwing ideas at you about how you could execute the costume, and while some of their ideas were rancid, it could actually be a very cute costume.

when the period ended they all said their goodbyes, and while you were packing up schlatt made his way to your classroom and opened it with his key

"BOO" he tried to scare you

"i literally saw you jay" you laughed and you slid your laptop into your bag.

"ugh, ill get you eventually, dont even worry about it, did ya pick somthin' for us to wear tomorrow?" he made his way infront of your desk and leaned his weight on the table

"i did actually, you have to hear me out though, it might sound dumb." he quickly cuts you off

"nothing you say is dumb" he was looking up at you and his eyes were very warm, much more than usual, it threw you off your game for a moment

"um, well thank you, but seriously, let me explain it before you say anything, i think it would be cute if we were the starry night and van gogh bu-"

"i love that." he cuts you off, still staring at you with the same look in his eyes as before

it was overwhelming you the way he was looking at you, but at the same time it pulled you in.

"no questions? i mean what if i wanted to dye your hair red." i laugh quietly

"id let you." he says without missing a beat

"m' not gonna do that, when should i bring you your costume, or like help you get ready or something." you felt very judged by his gaze, but not in a negative way, if that makes any sense, he was really confusing you.

"well party starts at 8, so come over early, we can get ready together, maybe even pregame a bit, and only if you want you can help setup. sound good?" he said softly

"yeah, sounds good." you said back, copying his tone of voice

"see ya' tomorrow toots." he stood up and walked out the room without looking back, the door clicked shut and he left you with nothing but your thoughts.

what the fuck was that.

you were so confused about what had just went down

why on earth was he looking at you like that

since when was he calling you toots, he always just called you by your name, no pet names

all those thoughts continued to plauge your mind for the duration of the night

and the next morning

and the afternoon

all the way until it was time to head over to schlatts house

it was in a nice area, he lived right outside the city, near astoria, queens

he had told you before that he commuted every day to work, but it was only a 20-40 minute drive depending on traffic

when you arrived at his house the first thing you noticed was how it was a very old building, yet his very new car (very expensive) was sat outside, it was a very symbolic scene, but it felt like him in a way

you got to the door, bag and a bottle of benedictine in hand, and rung the door bell, and it was taking quite a long time, you were starting to worry

but you were suprised when the door flung open revealing a very disheveled looking schlatt

"holy shit thank everything your here, im such an idiot i fully fell asleep and i just woke up and now im gonna crash out." as he rambled you set down your stuff at a nearby table

you walked back over to him and placed both your hands on his face, attempting to calm him down "johnny look at me please"

you noticed his eyes darting around and lip trembling. he had mentioned his severe anxiety to you before but you never knew it got this bad

`"hey im right here its ok, were going to get everything done, i know youre stressed but we are gonna do this together, we have time, and we can even make it fun, ok?" his eyes slowly begin to focus on yours and his lip began to calm

you moved one of your hands to his and let him ground himself and calm down, eventually he was able to let go of your hand and give you a hug

hugging him was the best thing youve ever experienced, he engulfed your whole body and rested his head atop yours and for a moment you felt true peace

your breathing syncronized and you stood there holding eachother

until you felt something fuzzy brush against your leg, and you pulled away to find two cats rubbing at your legs, and orange and black cat to be specific

you looked back at schlatt and he was smiling at you "they like you, makes sense, i do too." your eyes widened and you fully turned yourself in his direction

"what did you just say?" you squint your eyes and point at him "can you repeat that" you said through your smile

"i said i like you, and we both know you heard me the first time" he moved closer to you with a grin you were growing to love plastered across your face

"maybe i just wanted to hear you say it again" you smirk, before turning around and picking up his orange cat, "whats this one called?" you smile

"oh were just gonna smooth past that huh?" he asked accusatorially, one eyebrow raised, as he walked closer to you

being around schlatt made you feel bold, you were so comfortable around him that it boosted your confidence tenfold, you got super close to him, lips mear inches away

"i like you too, but we have alot to do, so we'll talk about it later." it wasnt a question, you looked up at him and then, walked away

you made your way to his kitchen and started pouring food into plasic bowls you found on the kitchen table

"you think your funny huh?" he made his way into the kitchen around 20 seconds after you, what you didnt know is he needed a moment to ajust himself in his pants

"hilarious, we an two hours until people arrive, and i need atleast and hour to get ready, make your self busy." you said as you continued setting up the food.

"your very bossy, yknow' that?" he laughed as he began unraveling cob webs he bought days prior.

"oh you have no idea handsome." you walked out the kitchen and started setting up lights cobwebs and fake bats on the celing of the living room

for the next hour you two would shamelessly flirt and joke around, like before, but there was now this tension, that in all honesty, you really liked

then came time to get ready, you had bought everything for schlatt, all he had to do was put it on, and leave you alone to do your makeup

but omfg he would not.

you were sat on his bathroom counter, trying to recreate the starry night on your face, but this man would not stop talking and asking you questions

you looked over at him sat on the closed toilet, just yapping, he was wearing a dark blue button up, and nice fitting jeans, along with a white patch on his ear, with fake blood on it.

fuck he looked good, but you could contain yourself. schlatt on the other hand was basically foaming at the mouth

you were wearing a relatively short dress, that was low-cut and had puffy sleeves, your hair was down, and your face was painted like the starry night.

and he genuinly thought he was gonna splooge his pants.

you on the other hand were just trying to finish your makeup, and he needed to be in another room because he kept distracting you, so the only logical task you could give him was to go make you a drink, and he listened

you were done with you makeup and you went to go meet him in the kitchen, you stood at the doorway of his kitchen waiting for him to notice you were there

when he eventually turned around, you could see in his eyes the moment he realised you were there, his entire face softened and his eyes beamed at you. he walked closer to you inspecting the makeup on your face

he was very close, you could feel his breath on you, and you didnt mind, you even considered kissing him, but of course, as if fate was not on your side, the door bell rung

and you both began to laugh as he went to go welcome the guests, you on the other hand went and chugged the drink he made you, cause without it, you might not of been able to survive the night

-everyone started arriving, and it was the most fun youve had in a while, music blasting, drinks chugged, storys told, dancing and party games

-and schlatt could not keep his eyes off you

-you laughed, flirted and smiled the night away until everyone began leaving, but you offered to help him clean up, and of course he accepted

-he had changed the music from his party playlist, to his calm playlist and the first song that came on was "something stupid" by frank sinatra

"i love frank sinatra" you laughed as you wiped his counter down with a paper towel.

without missing a beat he began to sing along to the song "i know i stand in line, until you think you have the time, to spend an evening with me" in the most beautiful singing voice youve ever heard

naturally you sang along with him, and eventually you to ended up dancing together in his kitchen, to frank sinatra, dressed as a painter and his work of art

and somehow, after only having this man in your life for just over a month, you were never going to let him leave it.

you both finished cleaning, and it was time for you to head home, as he walked you to your car you felt an overwhelming feeling, something that you couldnt put your finger on, like your heart felt like it was going to explode

you placed your stuff in the passenger seat of your car, and you went around to find schlatt holding open your door for you

and thats what did it

you grabbed the collar of this shirt and pulled him down to your level and kissed him

for a split second you had thought you made a mistake, but that fear subsided when he kissed you back and aggressively wrapped his arms around your waist

he pushed your back against your car with his body and continued kissing you as you threaded your fingers through his hair

you pulled away to breathe and he stared at you with a dopey grin on his face

"see you monday?" you asked with a love sick smile

he pecked both of your cheeks, then both sides of your smile before planting a kiss on your lips, as you giggled. when he finally pulled away he kissed your forehead and said,

"see you monday." he kissed your hand one last time and began walking inside, once again leaving you with your thoughts

you silently got in your car, and you realised you could finally identify that feeling before

it was love.

[onbearfeet]

Queerwolf By Night: Queercoding, Media Literacy, and Werewolf By Night (part 3)

Lovely to have you back for this, the final part of our examination of WBN being queer as fuck. If you missed the earlier presentations in Media Studies and Writing Hacks With Kat, Part 1 is here and Part 2 is here.

We've gone through the Hays Code AND the AIDS crisis so far, and that's a lot, so could I interest you in a cup of coffee brewed over a campfire?

Thanks, Ted. You're a peach.

So let's look at the final scene of WBN through a queer lens. There's a needle drop, color is restored to the world, and we see Jack waking up in the woods to drink coffee, grunt at Ted, and eventually decide that sushi should happen.

(Side note: I have a whole rant about queercoding and sushi, but I cut it, so here's a gif of Aziraphale gayly eating sushi in Good Omens, which you should watch.)

Okay, enough queer angels. Time for more queer monsters.

First things first: this scene is SO DOMESTIC, y'all. They're literally playing house in the woods, in that Ted has built Jack an adorable little house and brewed his morning coffee. The camp is littered with little domestic touches like the French press and the guitar. It's a homey, if slightly eclectic, vibe. (Where did Ted find a payphone?)

There is no explanation for these objects being there, afaik; Ted and Jack both have presumably come from some distance away, involuntarily in Ted's case, so there's no reason Ted would know the location of a well-stocked camp to put an unconscious Jack down in if Jack even set one up. Presumably the camp is Ted's work, but there's never an explanation for where he got any items other than the robe and the phonograph. (I'm particularly curious about the flower mug, personally.) Yet the objects are not remarked upon, and the entire scene is played as if this is a relatively normal morning for the two of them.

In fact, most of the mechanics of the scene are effectively those of a morning-after scene, perhaps a morning after characters fall into bed for the first time. Jack wakes up groaning, crawls out of bed to see where he is, and finds his partner has laid out something like breakfast for him and is prepared to discuss the events of the night before whenever Jack is ready.

And speaking of that discussion, we once again have displays of queercoded masculinity: Jack and Ted being physically affectionate, playful banter, and emotional vulnerability when Jack asks about Elsa. You know the drill by now. The camera pans up as "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" swells and fades out.

Wait.

Rainbow?

Let's talk about music in this film.

Michael Giacchino is primarily known as a composer of film music. WBN is his directorial debut. I guarantee you've heard his music before, because it's basically in every summer blockbuster franchise. If you can't get John Williams, Danny Elfman, or Hans Zimmer (all of whom are getting long in the tooth), you get Giacchino and he turns in a fucking SCORE.

Now, I am not a music person. Not at all. But even my musically illiterate ass knows that traditional film scoring derives a lot from classical music, especially Romantic composers like Beethoven. And that means LEITMOTIFS, baby!

(I learned about leitmotifs from Bugs Bunny and Star Wars. Do not be impressed.)

A leitmotif is a short musical phrase that can be used to signify a character, object, or theme in a larger work of music. For a very basic example of this, look up the Force theme from Star Wars and watch a supercut of all the times it was used to indicate that someone was using the Force. Or just watch this Sideways video about why the music in Rise of Skywalker was ass:

Anyhoo. The point of leitmotifs is to give an audience a feeling without necessarily tipping them off to exactly WHY they're having that feeling. And Giacchino LOVES his leitmotifs.

So when he uses someone else's music, he's extremely aware of the emotions that can come attached to that music. It's literally what he does.

There are two pieces of music used in WBN that Giacchino didn't write: a late 1930s recording of Vera Lynn singing "Wishing Will Make It So" and Judy Garland singing "Over The Rainbow" from The Wizard of Oz. Let's start with Vera Lynn.

Vera Lynn was an English singer most associated with big band music before and during WWII. During the war, she was known as "the Forces' sweetheart", both for her efforts to entertain the troops and for the fact that she was kind of every British fighting man's waifu. What Betty Grable's legs were to American GIs, Vera Lynn's voice was to British servicemen. She's best known for the song "We'll Meet Again", which is about exactly what it sounds like. She was a nice lady, by all accounts, and there is a ferry boat named after her now.

A Vera Lynn song about childhood and wishing is what Verussa plays in the labyrinth, apparently to annoy Elsa, who switches it off (even though that's going to inform everyone of where she is). For the purposes of queercoding, Vera Lynn is mom and apple pie, or possibly mum and fish and chips, and above all she is safe, compulsory heterosexuality. The Forces' sweetheart.

Judy Garland, on the other hand, is a queer icon.

I can't overstate what a Big Deal Judy Garland and Dorothy Gale from The Wizard of Oz are in queer culture. The themes of the story, including acceptance of the unusual and embrace of a found family (along with the sapphic elements of some of the books), resonated so deeply with queer people that for several decades, "are you a friend of Dorothy?" was code for "are you gay?" The US Navy actually launched an investigation to find the mysterious "Dorothy" who was supposedly the ringleader of all the gay sailors.

And then there's the song itself, with its theme of longing for a faraway, more colorful place where those who don't fit in at home are loved for who they are. It's, uh, pretty resonant with the queer experience.

So I now draw your attention to the phonograph. Gramophone. Record player. Whatever it's called.

In WBN, we first see the player set up in the labyrinth, presumably by Verussa or at her orders. It's playing a Vera Lynn song about childhood and wishing, which apparently annoys Elsa so much that she switches it off, thus alerting Jack to her location.

The next appearance of the player is in the camp, where it's now playing "Over the Rainbow" beside Jack as he wakes up. Ted has presumably stolen it; there's no other candidate for that, and we already saw him swipe a murder robe for Jack, so why not a record player too?

In other words, Verussa Enthusiastic Heterosexuality Bloodstone sets up the Compulsory Heterosexuality Machine, after which Elsa Ally-Coded Bloodstone turns it off in disgust, and Ted swipes it and turns it gay for Jack's benefit.

That's the coding. That's BARELY subtext. I really don't know what else to tell you. This essay started with my making an offhand joke to bluemoonperegrine about Ted and Jack being "literally friends of Dorothy" and then realizing nobody else in the conversation had noticed this stuff.

So what do we do about all this? Is WBN queer? Does all the Wolfstone stuff pale in comparison to the glory of Russallis? Am I trying to start a ship war in a fandom so small it probably wouldn't fill up Vera Lynn's namesake ferry boat?

Jack, you can answer this for me.

Nope. Not trying to start anything. I happily read Wolfstone, and technically have written some. I love all three WBN leads and am happy to enjoy them in any configuration (although my personal preference is group napping in a puppy pile, because these characters deserve naps).

I just figured it was worth documenting all this so people who haven't had the benefit of my very strange education would be better equipped to recognize (and ideally enjoy) old-style queercoding when they see it.

Wait a minute. You promised writing hacks. It's in the series title and everything.

Shit, you caught me.

Obviously, queercoding isn't a universal tool. There are plenty of storytelling contexts in which it's much better to make characters explicitly queer. Representation matters, and all that.

But sometimes you won't have time for explicit confirmation (like when your story takes place overnight and nobody really has time to play tonsil hockey). Sometimes you won't be able to include it due to outside constraints (like Disney being Disney).

And sometimes, you'll remember that there are plenty of people who can't or won't pick up explicitly queer media. Homophobic parents who won't let their kids watch Love, Simon ... but who WILL let them read your YA novel about unicorns or whatever where there are two female unicorns who are, uh, life partners. Grumpy uncles who refuse to acknowledge their nephew's boyfriend until they notice that, hey, they kinda act like Finn and Poe from that Star War. And so on. Sometimes, coded rep is the best rep you can get ... and so it's useful to have. A good toolbox has ALL the tools.

So if you're building characters for your story and don't or can't have specific queer goals, throw in a little coding. Put a rainbow T-shirt on a kid. Let two boys hold hands or have literally any feelings. Let a girl say a girl is pretty. Look up some of the older symbols for queer love and have someone growing lavender in their garden, or use newer queer symbols and have a character crack an egg in a key scene. Have a character who's content without a romantic or sexual relationship, and has an arc about something else, because aces and aros exist too.

There's a whole universe of coding out there. Go add some layers to your work.

Or better yet--see if they're there already. You might surprise yourself.

Sometimes the monster has a familiar face.

[thelostgirl21]

You know what, I think I'm going to say it here, because I believe it deserves to be heard, especially by the people of my own LGBTQ+ community.

If you identify as queer (or any other LGBTQ+ identity), and agree that it is "gross" that Netflix chose to "age up a child" (Prince Radovid), so that he could be put in a romantic and sexual relationship with Jaskier on the Netflix TV show, it is a very good example of what we mean when we talk about internalized homophobia.

It is not your fault; it is something that was done to you and against you.

But I sincerely believe that, sadly, you haven't realized the troubling implications of that argument, nor the way that it is directly targeting the queer community, especially queer men.

Because, in the source material, Prince Radovid and Jaskier are two characters that never interact nor have any type of relationship together.

Actually, Prince Radovid is literally described as "a person without any significance in a country ruled by the Regency Council" (The Lady Of The Lake, Book 7).

[Note for those of you unfamiliar with the books: Prince Radovid appears in a single scene of "The Lady of the Lake", where the young prince gets upset that the other kings (Foltest, Demavend, Henselt) bribed people in the crowd to cheer for them, the Free Company, Hemmelfart, Dijkstra and the Regency Council, without acknowledging the role that his own father had played in making the thing they are all cheering for happen, nor his mother and himself as the actual rulers of Redania (rather than Dijkstra and the Council).

And Sapkowski concludes the scene with one line of epilogue saying that, in the future, he'll make them all pay for those insults, and will become known in history as "Radovid the Stern".]

Had the source material featured a significant friendship between the adult character of Jaskier and 12-year-old Prince Radovid...

Had Jaskier acted as a guardian, teacher, parental figure, etc. to that young boy...

Had they had a canonically established relationship in the source material, featuring an age-related power imbalance between them (like Geralt and Ciri), and

Had Netflix chosen to erase that loving healthy adult-child dynamic - that would've been at the core of their relationship - to replace it with a romantic and sexual relationship instead, I would have 100% understood that it would have made people feel uncomfortable.

Because, had they suddenly decided that Ciri would be a 35-year-old when her home was destroyed and she found herself under Geralt's protection on the show, just so that Geralt could fall in love with his Child of Surprise and have wild heterosexual sex with her, I would have understood why a bunch of people would've gotten upset at Netflix for "only aging up a child so that Geralt could fuck her!"

But we're talking about two characters that never met; including one (Prince Radovid) that is so insignificant to what happens in The Witcher's story (according to Sapkowski, at least), that CD Projekt Red were able to create their own original villain off of him (i.e. inventing a story between him and Philippa where she sort of raised and traumatized him following the death of his father, leading to him becoming fearful and hateful towards mages, etc.), while continuing the story beyond Sapkowski's intended ending (something I'm pretty sure Netflix has no intention of doing for now).

TV show Prince/King Radovid is his own character, that has been written by Netflix to suit the purposes of the show.

Videogame Prince/King Radovid is his own character, that has been written by CD Projekt Red to suit the purposes of the games.

And both of these characters were inspired by "a person without any significance in a country ruled by the Regency Council" in the books, that will one day grow up to become king long after the story of the three main characters has been concluded.

In French, the slur word being used for gay men is a shortened version of a word meaning "grown men having sex with young boys"; and the idea that gay men are naturally more prone to wanting to have sex with children than heterosexual men are has long been one of the most common fears associated with homosexuality.

Saying that they "aged up a child to make Jaskier queer" - while trying to make it sound like it would be immoral or problematic to do so - is thus heavily leaning into the specific belief that gay sex between two queer men is an act of predation.

Agreeing that there's something that should make one feel uncomfortable about Netflix having aged Prince Radovid to suit their own storytelling purposes, including their decision to adapt him as an adult character that becomes romantically and sexually involved with another adult man, is basically openly implying that, since Jaskier is shown as becoming sexually attracted to an adult version of the character, had he and Radovid met in those books, he would still have "naturally harbored sexual desires" for the 12-year-old kid version of him.

It is heavily implying that there could have been something potentially problematic about the relationship dynamic between book Radovid and a queer Jaskier, that Netflix attempted to "fix" by making the character older.

And, if that's not an argument deeply rooted in homophobia, I don't know what is!

Netflix's Prince Radovid is a fully grown adult gay man that falls in love with a fully grown pansexual man.

And, had that same Jaskier from the show (or even the Jaskier from the books, that English readers and gamers also know as "Dandelion") met a 12-year-old Prince Radovid in the books, nothing romantic or sexual would have happened between them.

It's as simple as that.

Nothing gross or unnatural about it.

[albcrts]

(jonathan bailey, 32, he/him, cis man, winslow #3)  I wonder how the season will treat ALBERT WINSLOW. It’s true that HE is QUICK-WITTED, but I’ve also heard that they can be OBSTINATE. Do you think they’ll find their match? I doubt it if what I heard is true. I heard that [REDACTED]. Of course, that’s just speculation. (penny, 25, gmt, she/her, none). 

full name:  albert james winslow. nickname(s): bertie, albie. birthday: april 24th. gender / pronouns:  cis man ,  he / him. orientation:  homosexual / homoromantic. personality: loyal, hedonistic, affable & impulsive. languages spoken: english, passable french. terrible latin. relationship status:  unbetrothed. distinctive features: scar in his left cheek, thin and approx. 3-4 inches, under eye bags. build: athletic, toned.

( tw ; anxiety, anxiety attacks, insomnia. )

the first born winslow child, albert is heir to the estate and fortune but frankly has ( and always had ) little interest in that role and the pressures that come with it. it has been said that he is annoyingly easy going about it all.

dutifully though, he went to eton at his parents' request as a boy, and then even on to cambridge, where he stayed for just over a year before leaving without a degree. education was never his strong suit -- he got by well enough, but was never an enthusiastic student. in modern terms he would undoubtedly have been diagnosed with dyslexia.

a massive sportsman -- the thing he primarily channelled his energy into instead of his formal education. fencing, boxing and all manner of equestrian sports are his favourites, but he also plays cricket regularly. all this means that he is pretty often injured one way or another.

albert is typically easy going, though almost his entire adult life he has struggled terribly with anxiety. perhaps the worst part of it for him is that he perceives no logical root to it -- one day he can tackle something difficult with no issues, the next the most benign task has him spiralling for hours. he has always done his best to hide it from the outside world, and particularly his family, though his struggle with insomnia ( he assumes the two issues are linked ) is slowly becoming more obvious.

the winslows have never been particularly close as a family on the whole and that suits albert just fine -- he loves them dearly of course, and would hope they know that. in fact, it's probably at least partially his fault none of them are massively close with him specifically. he still lives at home, but you wouldn't know it one bit. he barely spends any time there ; tending to leave early in the morning, usually for a ride, and if he returns at all, to return late at night / early hours. the work expected of a first born son still generally gets done, but he's thankful he only really has to help run the estate, not actually run it himself just yet.

albert's basically a staple at the london season at this point, somehow still managing to escape his wedded fate. he kind of loves the season, socialising with all sorts of folks and spending time in the big city. he is also a truly excellent dancer and is perhaps one of few men keen to partake at balls.

has a pet dog, a blue whippet called basil. affectionately known as 'bas.'

pinterest board. wanted connections.

childhood / family friends. cousins. fellow sports enthusiasts. best friend(s). sibling-like friendships. neighbours. acquaintances. partying buddies. exes. ( i don't write smut but yk. drama ) one night stands. flings. flirtationship. i would love to plot literally any / everything w y'all !

[halliewriteshockey]

Hi I was wondering if you have any goalies you'd recommend who are super fun/interesting to watch? I've been looking at some, but you're a Goalie Person and I've only just gotten into hockey so I thought I'd ask an expert

Oh my GOD you have come to the right place, I'm cackling maniacally right now. Buckle up, my love, this may get long (it'll be worth it, I promise)

First up, obviously, is He Who Reigns Supreme in My Heart, Marc-Andre Fleury, aka Flower, aka You Little Shit. This man is the ultimate troll. He's a prankster known for his trickery and hijinks, but the best part is he's never mean-spirited about them. All his pranks are harmless and silly, like taping former teammates' sleeves inside out or moving all the furniture out of a teammate's hotel room so he comes back to a completely empty space, or zipping himself up inside an equipment bag and popping out when his teammate opened it.

He's also pretty damn good at the whole hockey thing and he's never lost his joy at playing the game, which makes him SO much fun to watch.

He's also pretty much universally beloved. Even Flyers fans rarely have anything negative to say about him, despite him being a Penguin for the bulk of his career. Here are some of my favorite examples of him being a menace:

The time he pretended not to know how to skate and literally flipped over a wall because of his commitment to the bit

A video I took myself, the one time I was able to see him play (still one of my best memories), and he tried to assassinate an Avs player in cold blood (his stick to Donskoi's skate - he's just trying to overbalance him so he's not in position for the upcoming to play)

He's the sweetest guy in the world but he will not put up with intruders on his crease

He kisses his goalposts and thanks them in both French and English when they make a save for him

The ice-cream truck story (also a great example of why his wife is perfect for him)

Shooting a puck at himself so he could stop it during warmups

Okay we're gonna be here all night if I don't stop myself now, so I'll end my treatise on why you should accept Flower into your heart with one final offering. For backstory, mans really wants two things in his NHL career. To get in a fight, and to score a goal. The problem with the fighting is his team adores him so much that they absolutely won't allow any harm to come to him, so the second he tries something, they will dogpile him to keep him safe.

Watch what he does with Matthew Tkachuk's helmet (at 19 seconds) and his team's reaction to Chucky's aggression Gotta be one of my very favorite videos of him.

Okay, the rest under the cut

Next up, Elvis Merzlikins. Not only is he a ray of sunshine and the sweetest boy in Columbus (now that Panarin is gone) but he's also pretty as hell

He's incredibly athletic

Tattoos 👀

He's SO classy

His reaction to his wife going into labor (he's from Latvia)

When Nick Foligno was on the team, this was how he and Elvis celebrated wins:

This happened after Nick left and I cried

So fans stepped up to hug him

Another of his and Nick's hugs

When I say he's classy I mean he's really a great guy

He has an adorable dog named Koby

He's funny

And uhhh flexible *sweats*

Moving on before I combust—next we have Thatcher Demko! Goalie for the Canucks, he recently earned the starter position but he captured my heart a long time ago. My tag for him is 'welcome to donut' and you'll see why

He loves his teammates

He's never heard of toxic masculinity, thanks

He gives great hugs

He almost never gets angry, so it's always startling when he does

Welcome to donut

He's super silly

SO silly

And he can't dance (but that doesn't stop him)

He's legendary for the college story

And here's the video of it

This picture

And finally, the video that made me fall in love with him

Okay, LAST ONE. Igor Shesterkin of the New York Rangers is not only one of the best goalies in the world (he just won the Vezina this year) but he's also delightful. He's very quiet, shy and introverted, but when he's comfortable with people, he's an absolute troll and it's SO funny

He and Panarin are really good friends

Panarin's very much a jokester and Igor's loosened up from being around him

This was me when I first saw him play

His teammates love him a lot

He's got no time for Brad Marchand

He wears headbands!! Under his helmet!! They were "cheap deal from Amazon" according to him

He cut his hair himself

He doesn't speak much English but he understands a lot more than he can speak, and once teased his translator for forgetting what he was saying

And he looks like this out of his gear

There you go, my top fave goalies chosen for their personalities. They're all worth following, although sometimes their teams... not so much

[sunsguilt]

YOU'RE MY NEW BFFL!┊ft: cater diamond

warnings: none! contains: gn reader <3

notes: cater my beloved let's go to restaurants and fake propose to each other for free dessert until we fall madly in luv with each other new title may be incoming let's see how i feel in a few hours

redheads are a weakness of mine, gonna be real. but kae! you ask, isn't every pretty man a weakness of yours? yeah, shut up. actually obliterating your family line right now.

anyway, cater diamond xoxo! personally, i see him as a drifter, the kind of person who floats through friend groups without any type of commitment. he's easygoing enough that he's able to befriend just about anyone he puts his mind to.

when it comes to him, i feel like neither of you would be able to pin down when your first meeting was. seeing him around became so normalized: seeing him during classes, in the hallways, even sometimes when you were in town separately but still crossing paths.

the specifics of your very first meeting never really mattered to you but cater has a sharper memory than he likes to let on.

he would remember the day a bit more vividly than you, though he'll play along when you mention to others that you can't remember when you first spoke to cater first. he'll feign being hurt like "mc how could you say that? I'm so hurt you could forget that easily, you know. just kidding ☆!"

but he wouldn't dream of holding it against you. you're his best friend after all!

cater frequently invites you to eat at places that he heard of once. it's always a mixed bag with his choices in restaurants since he'll pick a place that happens to be trending. he'll insist that you come with him (he's asking you to come so he doesn't have to sit alone).

he'll joke about sharing a milkshake with two straws! it wasn't a joke, but he quickly skirts by it and moves onto a different conversation topic before you process his words. are his ears a little red, or was it just your eyes?

cater is, in fact, a magicam addict so keep in mind that he's going to take an obscene amount of pictures and videos of the food. he slaps your hand lightly if you try to grab a french fry while he's bending over backward for a good angle. he ends up having to mute the video because neither of you can shut up for more than five minutes when you're together. cater wouldn't have it any other way.

he's so attached to you, honestly. he's constantly texting you when you're not around, and you have to wonder how he manages to get away with pulling his phone out so often during lectures just to respond to something you said at lightspeed. if more than 30 minutes have gone by without a reply from cater, he's probably bedridden.

he jokes about how he can't live without his best friend in the whole world forever and ever, but he would never admit aloud just how it rings true. bro's hitting you up with a "can we call :> ?" like it hasn't been an hour since you both went back to your dorms. then he's talking about "oh what if we both slept on call together" like a loser.

he's an attention whore, but he just wants your attention.

he literally talks about you all the time even if he doesn't realize it. like most of his day is centered around yours. at some point, he inadvertently memorizes the paths that you generally take to most of your classes and plans to walk with you to them.

he'll carry your books for you because he is just such an awesome, reliable guy! thank him for it, he'll be giggling about it for the rest of the day.

if you even jokingly say you're not his best friend, he's bawling his eyes out when he gets back to his room. (i imagine that he is not fond of crying because his eyes get really red and his face gets splotchy). you just ripped his poor heart into a million pieces, how cruel can you be! he is crying into his pillow that night.

so touchy. like it's his way of being friendly, so it's always him holding your hand (interlocked fingers! a win) and grabbing you by the waist to move you out of the way. he will also squeeze your hand just a little tighter whenever someone is looking at you a little too long. he's worried you'll decide that he's not good enough to be friends with him, you've told him that's an irrational fear to have, but he's scared anyway.

physical affection aside, he tells you "i love you" a LOT. at some point, he's all like "you're the love of my life" then proceeds to ask you for lunch money or something absurd. so you never really take it seriously; you think it's just cater!

he realizes he's in love with you too far down the line for any affection he shows to you to be anything but platonic in your eyes. his ploys to obtain your affection get a little desperate, in a cute way. he tries, he tries really hard, y'know!

— ☆

[soupthatistohot]

Sk8 headcannons because brainrot

- Langa doesn't know how to swim except the doggy paddle

- Reki wanted a dog as s kid so badly that he made an entire presentation about it for his parents and got his sister involved, too. They had to tell him no, because they couldn't afford it and because dogs require a lot of attention. Reki wouldn't speak to his mother for two days.

- Reki has definitely tried to skateboard in high heels before and he definitely failed

- Miya's YouTube recommended page consists solely of playthroughs and theories for his favorite RPGs

- Kojiro was a pokemon kid

- Langa had braces in middle school but hardly anyone noticed because of how quiet he was. His mouth was almost always closed, and he smiled with his mouth closed for photos, so there is no photo documentation that he ever even had braces

- Langa doesn't take a lot of photos, not at all. If he does, it's of nature or whatever. He has, like, one photo of him and Reki in his phone.

- Reki takes more videos than photos. If vine was around when he was a teen, he definitely would've made a viral video

- Kaoru got the first piercing because Kojiro dared him to, thinking he wouldn't actually do it. After that he just kept getting them because he thought they looked cool. (Though he definitely did that first piercing himself and it got infected. He went to tattoo parlors after that)

- the only person in the past five years who has seen Kaoru in anything but a yukata (or similar traditional clothing) is Kojiro. Apparently Kaoru wears shorts in his own home occasionally.

- Reki has long eyelashes

- Reki always has to remind Langa to wear sunscreen, even on cloudy days. Langa did NOT inherit any genes from his mother that would allow him to tan, and thus was constantly either a) white as a sheet or b) red as a tomato

- as soon as Koyomi learned what "gay" was, she looked at Reki and Langa and decided that they were secretly dating (they were not, but she wasn't that far off, it was just mutal pining!)

- Reki knows that airpods are useful and convenient and he can definitely afford them but refuses to ever buy them

- Reki likes grape flavored popsicles and Langa and Miya agree that this is a crime against humanity

- Miya loves sour candy and once made Reki and Langa eat seven warheads at once with him. He was majorly unaffected, but the other two actually physically damaged their tastebuds

- Miya eats lemons in restaurants (including Sia La Luce, and it drives Kojiro crazy)

- Miya doesn't like lemonade, though. It's too sugary.

- Before "S", Hiromi's persona of Shadow lived online as an internet troll

- Langa gets weirdly invested in internet drama even though he doesn't know the first thing about the people they're about (he could tell you the whole timeline of the Tati and James Charles drama tho)

- Reki's English writing is just as bad as Langa's Kanji, and they try to help each other with it but get a little frustrated

- While Miya has great grades in school, it's not because it comes easily to him (like skating). He actually works really hard, and he struggles the most with reading and writing. His favorite class is art.

- Kojiro is a truth serum drunk

- Reki really likes sunflowers, and just flowers in general. He'd probably never say it out loud to anyone but Hiromi or maybe Langa, but he just thinks they're pretty and appreciates their beauty.

- Langa is not a picky eater, but he will, under NO circumstances, eat anything with mustard on it.

- Kojiro taught himself how to braid hair in middle school using Kaoru's hair (he very reluctantly let Kojiro do this)

- Langa used to have a lisp as a child, but he eventually grew out of it

- Reki has glasses with a fairly weak prescription that he just doesn't use (they're supposed to be "just for school" but he really cannot be bothered. plus, he heard that if you don't wear glasses when you need them that your vision won't worsen and might even improve)

- Kojiro not only speaks fluent Italian, but also is proficient in French and even speaks English well enough to get his point across

- Reki loved reading American comic books as a kid. It was just too bad that he had no clue what the dialogue was. He'd try to come up with the dialogue himself, though, and his mom would always find him muttering to himself in various voices when reading

- Reki's headband was a gift from Oka

- Almost anyone in Reki's school could call him their friend, but he never really hung out with anyone (but his other friend who used to skate) until Langa came along

- Langa is a good dancer, Reki... is not (but he has fun!)

- Kaoru can break dance, but no one but Kojiro knows this (for now)

- Miya never has a huge growth spurt like everyone expects him to, he remains below average in height

- Reki doesn't watch a lot of shows, but he LOVES Avatar: the Last Airbender (I assume that show has been translated into Japanese??)

- Langa straightened Reki's hair once with his mother's iron. He burned both his ears multiple times

- Miya actually has a convoluted haircare routine

- Kojiro got Kaoru into the habit of always carrying around lip balm with him (whenever Kaoru would ask to borrow his, he would make an indirect kissing joke. eventually Kaoru just got his own)

- Reki definitely had a crush on the friend that taught him to skate and just did not realize it at the time because he thought he only liked girls

- Reki sleeps under his sheets and blanket all year round

- Langa had terrible acne in his early teen years and he was an early bloomer

- Reki had a tooth gap before he got braces

- Miya wears Invisalign, Reki and Langa insist that he’ll never know the torture that was having braces and remark how “kids these days” have it so easy

- Langa is good at history, mostly because he has a decent memory

- Kojiro got homesick very often when he was in culinary school in Italy, and he called his parents every Sunday

- Langa had a kindergarten girlfriend who was absolutely heartbroken when Langa told her that he just wasn’t that interested. She threw a temper tantrum and punched Langa in the face.

- Hiromi was in a long-term relationship with a girl in high school, but they broke up when she left for college. It took him a while to recover.

- Hiromi is better at mariokart than Miya and it pisses him off

- no one wants to be in the room when Kaoru and Kojiro play mariokart against each other

- Reki got sick a lot as a kid, usually just the common cold (which was kind of ironic given the climate he grew up in)

- Langa never really held anyone’s hand (not since he was a literal child, anyway) until he met Reki. He then discovered that he liked having his hand held

- Kaoru wears eyeliner to “S”

- it takes Langa a few months to really start to unpack his boxes and decorate his room when he moves to Okinawa

[fleursdemeduse]

Remembrance AU: Day and Night

I only have 5 more planned parts before the "main story" is completed.

Warnings: Mention of Death ; Unconsciousness ; Unrequited[?] Love

Words: 3.5k

Sometimes, it was amazing to you how lucky you had been.

You remembered how warm the air had been when you had found the flower field. The breeze drug the long grass into graceful waves and the different wildflowers swayed gently. Trees framed the field except for the large weeping cherry tree that sat upon a small hill. No other flowers grew on the hill, but you hadn’t thought anything of it. It was so quiet there, so serene. The air tasted sweet. It was like a scene from a storybook.

You had immediately hunted down Techno and took him away from his farming to see the spot. Back then, you hadn’t known each other for long, but you had felt so close to him already. It was like you had already known each other for all of the lifetimes he had talked about.

“Isn’t it gorgeous, Tech?” He grunted out a quiet “yeah” and you grinned up at him. Back then, during the war, he always wore his mask. The pig skull strapped tightly to his face hid his features, including his eyes, but you didn’t care. His voice usually had enough inflection for you to know his expression. You giggled as you sprinted forward, towards the giant tree in the middle. “Follow me! I wanna watch the clouds.”

He had relented. Your smile could have rivaled the beauty of the field in that moment, and he felt himself falling for you even deeper. He’d never tell you, though. Despite how often you could respawn, he wouldn’t let himself be with someone he could lose. And he very much could lose you. You could just not come back one of these times, you could hate him for the things he’s done, you could see how Wilbur looked at you and turn that damning smile onto him. He wouldn’t prevent you from being happy.

You sat with your back against the bark of the large tree, some of the light petals shaking loose and drifting slowly down around you. He would remember this moment forever.

He had laid next to you, his hair a brighter pink than the flowers above the two of you and spread in a halo around his head.

“What’s gonna happen when this is all over?” He thought it over, watching the clouds mimic the flowers in their sluggishness.

“We move on.” You nodded, stomach flipping at the way he said “we” and not “I”. That had to have been progress in your friendship, no?

You sat there quietly, contemplative, while he took in the coolness of the shade compared to how hot the area in the trees seemed to be. This was a spot Phil would have loved had he been around. He could imagine a small cottage nearby and the overgrown field turned into a garden. The voices agreed with this thought. There would be cakes and bonfires on summer nights. He’d bring you with him to visit. Would you like Phil? You two were similar in a lot of ways. Even in past lives, Phil had a fatherly streak for himself, Tommy and Wilbur. Sometimes Tubbo and Ranboo were included in that equation. When would the teen show up? This couldn’t have been a timeline without him. Everyone else was here and the hybrid knew you’d love the kid just like you did the other two. He hadn’t interacted with him much in other lives, but the kid was nice enough. Maybe you’d-

"I can braid your hair for you, if you want."

Your voice had broken through the voices that had idly whispered in his ears. He considered it for a moment, chat now becoming louder.

YES!!

Please don’t let them.

What kind of braid do they want to do?

Are they going to play with it too?

Don’t turn your back on them.

The mask would have to come off.

E.

Why are they so nice to us?

E.

Do it.

What if they did a french braid? That’d look nice.

Their hands look soft.

What if they pull our hair?

Let them do it. They’ll be so proud of themselves.

Technoblade sighed and moved his head to your lap. “I’m not moving any more. You can do what you wish. I’m gonna nap.”

Your smile was electric and he pressed his lips together to fight the urge to groan at the sight. He almost lost that fight when your fingers carded through his hair.

“Can I take off your mask?”

“No.” His answer was immediate. “Work around it.”

You pressed your lips together. “Can I unbuckle it, at least? I don’t want to pull.”

“Do what you want.” He closed his eyes, feeling you mess with the strap before carefully laying it over the side of the skull, careful to not dislodge it. The extra effort you took to make him comfortable made his heart flutter in his chest a bit more than it should have. Did you do this with anyone else in their tiny rebellion? He had noticed Tommy had been walking around with a small braid framing his face lately and he had seen Wilbur with one pinned back in his hair when he removed his beanie a while back. Were they your doing? It was his turn, then.

He craved your touch more than he should have. It was much softer than his own and the contrast wasn’t something he experienced often. He enjoyed the fleeting touches you experimented with on him as you tested his boundaries. The random hugs you gave him when you were happy and forgot yourself for a moment. The times when you’d unconsciously touch his arm while you two talked. The friendly bumps when you two walked. He was happy to be your friend.

“Have you ever thought about how much worse our lives would be without each other?”

He took a moment to think the question over.

“Well, I figure mine would have been about the same. I’ve spent plenty of them without you before, so it’d have just been another to add on.” Your hands paused in his hair and the hybrid opened an eye to watch your lips tilted into a frown. He had never liked that expression on you.

“I suppose that’s fair.”

“I think having you in mine now is pretty nice.” The sentence left his lips before he could stop it. It was too sentimental for him. He wasn’t one to speak before thinking, but the way you lit up at his outburst made him happy he had too.

“I think having you in mine is pretty nice too, Tech.” Your nails ran lightly over his temple as you pulled hair back into the mess you were currently trying to tame it into.

“I’m not a dog, [y/n].”

“I never said you were.”

“Then stop scratchin’ me like one.” You laughed and he huffed proudly at the sound. “I do like spendin’ time with you, though.”

He heard you hum quietly, feeling the way his hair tugged as your fingers worked.

“You make everything quiet. Sometimes, I can see the past so clearly in my mind… it almost feels like it’s real and happenin’ again. But it isn’t. Only now is real. And when I’m with you, even the voices will occasionally take a break.” He watched the way your lips fell to a soft “o” shape. He sighed, feeling like if he didn’t go on, you’d say something contrary to him. He didn’t spill his guts like this. Not literally or metaphorically. But something about you made him want to go on and on. “You have this special power over everyone. It’s amazin’. I didn’t even know what to think when we met. I was ready to move on and never see you again, but you kept persisting. You just trusted this violent stranger who can’t handle social situations, and I’m here tryin’ to figure out what I’m supposed to do when I can’t even trust my own mind.”

Your laughter felt like you punched him in the gut and he turned his head to look up at you. Your smile didn’t look mocking, and when your amusement faded, the curve of your lips remained untaunting.

“You just trust me back, Tech. I don’t have any special powers aside from not being able to stay dead.” He felt your hand grip his arm and squeeze lightly. “I’m not going anywhere either. You’re right. I’m relentless. You’re not gonna get rid of me unless you tell me you want me gone.”

His heart felt like it was in his throat.

“And honestly?” His breath caught for a moment at the look in your eyes as you gazed down at him. He felt so naked under it, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. “I could see the worst parts of you and still think you are the most beautiful person I've met.”

“Bold of you to say, considerin’ I’m wearin’ a mask.” He mumbled, heartbeat suddenly picking up and palpitating as if he were in battle. It felt like you really could see him, all of him, despite the covering. He didn’t feel like he had, or even could, hide anything from you. Every scar, every expression, every thought. You had taken his admittance of the voices in stride, even talked to them directly sometimes. You weren’t afraid to touch him, to be soft with him. If he could spend the rest of this timeline with you, even if this was the only one you were in, he’d feel full.

Your smile wavered when you watched Techno reach up as if to remove his mask.

“What are you doing?”

“Showing you some of the worst parts of me.” He sat up, moving the item to his lap, before looking back at you. Seeing you unfiltered by the mask was a whole new experience. It was like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. His heart began skipping every other beat. What did you think of his face? Tommy, Tubbo and Wilbur had seen it plenty of times, remembered it in other lifetimes when he did have a humanoid face, but this was your first time.

The grin that pulled your lips bigger slightly alleviated his worries, though. And you reached forward, touching his face like you had Tommy’s a hundred times while whispering a quiet “Wow” he didn’t know if he should have been flattered by. He let you trace your fingers over the scar over his nose and brush your thumb over his lower lip before you pulled his mouth open. You examined his slightly-sharper teeth with a fascination he didn’t know felt more clinical or childlike. Your expression turned oddly serious.

“I was wrong.” His veins suddenly felt like ice as you pulled your hand away. “You’re no person, Tech. You’re a god and I am lucky to be in your presence.”

The ice melted just as quickly as it had formed and his cheeks suddenly felt like they were aflame. He had been called that hundreds of times, but the way it rolled off your tongue sounded like reverence. He swallowed and looked away. You were wrong about having no power over him as well. You shouldn’t have been able to play with his emotions as easily as you did. “You’re cruel, [y/n].”

He smirked at the sound of your scoff as you feigned indignation before turning back to you. He watched your eyes widen before you reached for his face once more. He let you.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen you smile.”

He prayed you thought his was as brilliant as yours.

Being close to others was a good thing, wasn’t it? Even if you didn’t share any memories with them, you’d still be there for them, no matter what.

Tommy had crawled into your bed once more while you slept. He had done so plenty of times during the revolution until L’Manburg had been won back. Now, he had his own house he could sleep comfortably in. But he had a key to your house. So as long as he locked the front door whenever he snuck in, when the mattress dipped at his weight, you would always peel open an eye before pulling the covers up for him to crawl under. You would never be upset with him about breaking in just to cuddle and eventually fall asleep. You would never mention it after the fact either. He didn’t need to be embarrassed in front of the others and face the taunts from not being able to sleep properly when he was alone. He just needed comfort sometimes. The blond was, after all, still a child just swept up in all of this.

You curled around him, his gangly limbs tucked into his chest awkwardly as you tried to give him the most paternal embrace possible. You didn’t press him for details like you used to, just tucked the golden braid you had weaved into his shaggy hair behind his ear and smile sleepily at him in hopes he would smile back.

He wouldn’t, but you never expected him to.

“Hey Toms?” He hummed in response, looking at the part of the pillow tucked under your throat. “Did I ever tell you the story about how the moon did the sun’s work every night because he loved her so much?”

“No.” His voice cracked, but you ignored it, choosing instead to roll onto your back to look at the stars through your skylight. You felt him do the same.

“Well, when the sun found the moon, it had just been happenstance. He was drinking tea under the large cherry tree in his garden and she was so tired. She had not stopped working. Day was the only thing anyone knew. Her light and warmth were so abundant, she was barely hanging on from the exhaustion it exerted on her. And so she collapsed in his garden, unconscious. He brought her into the shade of his tree and the world darkened. Plants and people died in the absence of light more than they had before. However, when she woke up and when they locked eyes, the world finally felt like it was spinning. He had been so kind to her. How could she not love him? But she kept it from him. She visited everyday and they would share tea and talk for hours. She sat just outside of the tree’s shade despite how tired it made her.”

You watched Tommy turn his head to watch you speak from the corner of your eye.

“Eventually he asked her “Why do you come everyday when you look so tired? Why don’t you rest?”. “Because I cannot. I must cast light onto my children and help them grow.” She replied. “Why do you never leave the shade of your tree?” He laughed at her question. “Because I cannot. The light is too bright and I will disappear.” She took his answer and they moved on.”

The blond listened to the voices you used for each character, slowly closing his eyes.

“One day, when she collapsed again, she was still conscious when the moon stepped out of his shade once more to rescue her. The world lightened once more, but only dimly. He reflected her warmth onto everything. It was a soft light and the people marveled at his beauty. He decided then he would take on half of her work when they had tea because he too loved her, but kept it to himself. And from then on, whenever she would visit for tea, he would sit outside of the comfort of his cherry tree, and she would perch herself under it and let him show his brightness to the world. And they were happy.”

You looked back at him, trying to not giggle at how sleepy he looked.

“Tha’s a lame story.” He quietly slurred and you shrugged your shoulders a little, rolling back over to face him fully.

“I think Phil would disagree.”

“Phil?”

“Yep. That’s his favorite story.” He pouted a little and your chest warmed at how childlike he looked.

“Then I think…” His voice was becoming softer, trailing off. “I think it’ll be mine too.”

You listened to his breathing soften before evening out completely and you’d fall back asleep.

People trusted you so much and you didn’t know what you did to deserve it.

The pendent was cold in your hands.

A silver heron stared up at you with a lone emerald eye and you prayed it wasn’t made from the same friendship emerald that Technoblade had gifted him with.

“I got that from a friend a long time ago. His child, Love, actually had it for a while when his mother passed, but when his kid suffered the same fate, Psarocolius gave it to me. Said it was bad luck or something.” You snorted and rolled your eyes.

“Wow, Phil. What an amazing gift.” Your sarcasm was palatable. He bopped the top of your head with a gentle chop of his hand.

“Shut. It’s a way to reach out to Kristin.” You had been complaining to him about how left out you felt whenever everyone else was talking about their previous lives, hoping the older man would have some good advice for you. “That’s why Psar’s wife and kid died. There was no other way.”

“So your wife just killed them off? How cold.” He shook his head.

“Nah, mate. They asked her to. She still feels awful about it.” You paused for a moment.

“But isn’t that technically your job now?” You watched the way his lips curled into a smile.

“I do it so I can see her more often. It gets tiring doing everything, you know.” You definitely knew. “But talk to her about it. See what the deal is.”

You snickered at the thought.

“It can’t be that easy.”

“It is.”

Now, in the heat of her presence, the pendent was even colder.

“Hey, [y/n]. I was wondering when you were going to come around.” You swallowed, a little overwhelmed.

“You were expecting me?”

“Well, not exactly. But you were probably going to want to talk to me eventually.” She arched a manicured eyebrow at you. Was every god this beautiful? “Now, why did-”

“Why don’t I have any past lives?” You watched how her eyes widened for a moment, stunned, before her pink lips parted as she laughed. It was warm, motherly enough to match Philza’s naturally fatherly one, and so lovely to listen to. She rested a hand on your cheek when it slowly quieted and you were faced with looking into her eyes that looked like they held every answer in the universe. You felt a little dumb for asking it straight out and floundered to recover. To explain yourself. “I don’t have any to remember. I want to have them, to share memories with everyone else.”

There was a slow build at the front of your brain.

“Well, who’s to say you don’t?”

The pressure continued growing. Your head ached in the worst way possible.

“Minds are weird. Sometimes you just shove things down and make yourself forget.”

You suddenly thought of a servant who tended to a woman you didn’t know. Images of things that had happened or might have flickered through your mind. Possibilities playing in loops. You remembered watching heroes save the city and the zombie apocalypse starting countless times. Your skull felt like it was splitting.

“All you need is a nudge in the right direction, and memories will just come back.”

There was laughter with Drista and Kristin herself. Stories on a computer screen. Childish fights echoing over a Discord call while you watched on in silence. First love, second love, third. Faces that weren’t yours smiling wide back at you. Mellohi playing softly in the background as hands you had seen countless times before cooked dinner.

“It hurts so much. Why does it hurt so much? I just want it to stop.” Kristin pet your hair with her other hand. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes and she shushed you.

You saw different versions of Techno’s sweet smiles. You felt the varied intensities of Wilbur’s stares, warm and cold. You savoured the several kinds of laughs Tommy shared with everyone around him. Would you ever experience any of them again? You would. You had to. Techno was your best friend, Tommy your little brother, Ghostbur your companion. You could not abandon them when you promised to always come back.

Your vision blurred black around the edges as stars danced across your eyes. You suddenly felt so very weak.

The goddess of life and death’s voice was muffled in your ears as your hearing slowly faded. The heron necklace slipped from your grip, but the sound of it hitting the ground didn’t reach you. Neither did the crash of your fall. Her words echoed around you as you lost consciousness.

“You’ll be okay.”

It was only a matter of time before you found out why.

[itrytowrite-things]

Murder podcasts

Spencer Reid x reader 

Summary: Y/N has a tendency to listen to murder podcasts while doing chores, one day Spencer comes in unannounced scaring Y/N into action. (This summary sucks but it’s fluffy) 

A/N: shout out to @with-paint, she helped me form some of this fic so check them out. 

The eerie background music and narrator filled the kitchen as I scrubbed diligently at a plate. I blinked down at it, trying in vain to remember what the hell I used it for that would cause such a stubborn stain of food. Sighing, I squeezed the soap bottle some more and ran hot water over it. Maybe soaking it would help? 

Grabbing a few of the cups I had washed, I spun around from the sink to a towel I had laid out earlier. I scrunched my nose as cold soap suds ran down my arm, hit my elbow and fell to the floor in a sticky mess I didn’t want to deal with right now. 

I was so engrossed in the podcast playing over the Alexa that I barely even processed the grueling chore that was longer than normal. I was lost in the words, that an hour longer scrubbing at dishes seemed almost fun. The dishwasher had completely died a couple of weeks ago. 

Normally Spencer would speed read the manual to figure out what was wrong with the stupid machine. But unfortunately, his case in Michigan was taking longer than he anticipated. So, he hadn’t been home to look into it, leaving me to hand wash the dishes. I didn’t mind, it was a mindless task and allowed me to catch up on my favorite podcast. 

“They found her body a week later, twenty minutes from their house,” I shook my head at that, case freaking solved. Her husband obviously killed her. I mean there’s no way the police didn’t solve this case, come on.

I moved from the towel back to the sink, sticking my hands back into the soapy water. I always believed that I should be a detective. I could solve these cases easily, Spencer claims that suspicion can only take me so far and the reason that they don’t catch the guy is not because they don’t suspect it, but because they don’t have hard evidence. I normally just scoff and give him a kiss knowing that I would get the bad guy in the end, “hard evidence” my ass. 

“Two months later the police came in and found Jeff’s disembodied head laying on their kitchen counter.” My jaw dropped and I turned around furiously, bringing a wet butter knife with me, on instinct I pointed the knife at the device. 

“Oh shit.” I said to the speaker, as if it were relaying the case itself. Well turns out I was wrong. I cleared my throat and lowered the stupid knife. I placed it down and tried my best to look less scandalized. We all make mistakes. So I might have been a little off in my husband theory, but I mean I had only heard half the case at that point so it doesn’t speak anything of my amazing detective skills. I nodded at that and tossed the knife into a little stack of silverware. The metallic sound echoing around the kitchen. I smirked at my good throw and turned back to the sink. 

I quickly got into the true grove of washing the dishes, listening to the more gruesome details of the case. Turns out the killer did quite a number on old Jeff. I was halfway done with the remaining dishes when I felt a tap on my shoulder sending my heart into a frenzy. 

I whirled around quickly bringing the closest item with me as a weapon. The plastic spatula slapped the asalint straight in the face creating an awfully loud twack sound that bounced off the kitchen walls. I blinked in horror at realizing who exactly was standing in front of me. 

Spencer's cheek turned red immediately. 

“Oh my god! Spence! I am so sorry!” I dropped the spatula and brought my other hand to his face trying to soothe his skin. My hand was covered in water and soap suds, and it dripped down his face onto the already wet floor.

“I am so so sorry. You scared me.” I rubbed my thumb over the spot, feeling his heated skin. Jesus, I felt awful. I didn’t hold anything back when I hit him. I figured I was fending for my life, not greeting my boyfriend. 

“It’s okay.” His much larger hand cupped mine removing it from his face. The redness had died down a little, making his skin a rosy pink instead of the previous bright red. He looked adorable which only made me feel worse. Who looks that cute after getting slapped in the face with a spatula? 

Spencer startled me yet again when a chuckle came bubbling out of him. His laugh was like someone bottled the sound of happiness. It made my own laughter arise every time without a doubt even if I didn’t understand what was funny.

“I guess I don’t have to worry about you protecting yourself.” A loud squeak sound emitted from my body unexpectedly followed by more laughter. I slapped him very lightly across the chest, kissing his unharmed cheek. 

“You're lucky I wasn’t cutting vegetables.” I said,  rustling my way into his arms pulling his body against my tightly, loving the way his laughter shook my entire body. I felt the short press of his lips against the crown of my head before tucking my head into the nook of his neck. I inhaled deeply, taking the scent of him with me. The apartment had started to lose its scent with him being gone for so long. I was beyond eager for the apartment to smell like us again.

“I think those podcasts are giving you wild ideas.” 

“They would never find your body Dr.Reid.” I teased, poking gently at his side making him squirm in my grip. Another round of laughter filled the small space, it was only when it died down that I realized my podcast was still running in the background. 

“Alexa, stop,” I shouted into the air stopping the podcast. “The neighbor did it.” I said with coincidence knowing that my answer was correct this time. Spencer let out a belt of laughter, nodding his head, a big grin on his face. 

I pulled back from Spencer taking in his features for the first time. He looked tired, his eye bags had doubled creating a skunk in effect. I could see the trouble in his eyes, the case was hard. It killed me to see him after a hard case, he looked more and more defeated after each one. However, it was what he loved doing and my job wasn’t to erase the trauma of his job, but to ease him back into daily life. I thumbed his eye bags lazily, a pout taking over my face. 

“You wanna take a shower and I’ll start us some dinner.” I asked gently. Not wanting to completely destroy the quiet we created. He nodded slightly looking younger than ever. I quickly pulled him back into me taking all of his weight. “I love you bub.” His hair felt silky against my fingertips as I disentangled the curls. 

“Love you too.” He mumbled, his heated breath warming my skin. I waited a few comfortable minutes rocking our conjoined bodies in the cozy silence of our kitchen, I took a deep breath and said what was on my mind. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

I don’t ever ask Spencer for the details of his cases. He either goes into a tangent without prompting or doesn’t feel like talking about it. I used to think that talking to Spencer about his job would be like listening to my murder podcasts. It honestly was one of the things I was excited for, but I soon found out it’s nothing like that.

When Spencer spoke of cases it was personal. He felt every death that was caused and saw every killing through the eyes of monsters. He held so much emotion in his voice when he spoke of the victims, that I often can’t help but cry. How a person can hold that much pain and still continue to do it everyday, is beside me. 

He shook his head, squeezing my torso before finally pulling back and placing a soft kiss to my lips. 

I continued the dishes, washing the last few. I left the podcast off, listening instead to the shower from down the hall. I scrubbed off the last of the grime before starting the oven. A simple dinner was always best in these situations. I pulled out a pre-made chicken pot pie from the freezer and placed it in the oven. 

As I moved to dry and put away the dishes while waiting for pie to finish. Spencer emerged from the bathroom freshly bathed. He wore a thin gray shirt paired with some soft looking sweatpants. My upper lip jutted out automatically. God I love him. 

“Feel better?” I kept my voice low, not wanting to startle any peace that the shower might have brought him. He nodded slowly. 

“What did you cook?”

“A chicken pot pie, I hope that’s okay.” 

“It’s perfect.” He smiled and returned to my arms, kissing my neck once before tucking his head into my neck. The edge of his wet hair scraped against my skin in an uncomfortable way, yet I only moved enough to rub circles into his back. 

A loud beep emitted from the oven caused me to jump in Spencer's arms. He let out a small chuckle. 

“Pick us something to watch and I’ll plate us some food.” I hummed turning my back to him. I heard him walking towards the living room as I bent to retrieve the hot food. 

Spencer sat criss cross on the couch, Les Enfants du Paradis was displayed on the TV. I handed him the steaming bowl and sat down, sitting close enough for our knees to knock together. I have no idea what Les Enfants du Paradis was, but I would watch literally anything he wanted as long as he was here. 

“It’s in French, but I figured I could whisper the translations to you while we watch. Or I could pick something else?” 

“No! This is perfect Spence. I love it when you translate, you tell the story better.” He let out a little blush highlighting his previous slap mark. I bit my lip and winced slightly, “How’s your face?” 

He touched the spot faintly, he didn’t wince when his fingers made contact which was a good sign. However, I have an inkling that a small bruise would form in the center of the slap which was going to be a fun story to tell his colleagues Monday. 

“I’ve had worse, but you wield a lot of power with a cheap piece of plastic.”

“I am professionally trained in the art of spatula wielding Spence, don’t try that at home.” I stared at him, my face blank before a blast of laughter came out of both of us. One can only be so serious when you are talking about slapping people in the face with kitchen utensils. 

Spencer started up the movie, and we remained there for the rest of the evening. Laughter and dramatic sighs followed by even more dramatic translations from Spencer. At some point he went so off script that even I could tell his story was bullshit. I didn’t call him out though just allowed him to spit nonsense, I would let him create fake French stories until he was blue in the face if that meant we got to stay in this happy bubble forever. 

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Hi! I love everything that you write and heh I am a fan! 😄 tbh this is my first time requesting something on Tumblr! If you don't mind and if I am not being a bother...can you write about how the guys would react If MC suddenly starts making meme references? I don't know how I got the idea but I am REALLY curious. And love you! :D

Hiya! Tyvm for the kind words, and apologies that this took a while! I hope you have the chance to enjoy it regardless ❤️❤️❤️ Love you too, sweet pea! I promise to get to the next request you’ve sent ASAP~

Aight but this would be hilarious because the range of the reactions is just ungodly. I will be putting this under a cut after Napoleon so I don’t clog up everyone’s dash, but all the suitors are included below otherwise! 

Comte is the one that recognizes a few, but didn’t really stay in modern times long enough to be as well-versed as a Gen Z kid might. Regardless he finds the wittiness and absolute chaotic fuckery to be delightful, and will 100% support the harmless nonsense. It never fails to get a laugh out of him

Mozart that first day be like: “Buzz off MC I hate you” MC, because she likes swinging bats at wasps’ nests: “Well that’s not very cash money of you” Mozart: ?????????? Comte, giggling in the bg like the secret fae he is This one’s just because I’m petty, but after the events of Comte rt I just imagine them encountering Vlad again and MC’s just “I lived bitch.” while Comte is flipping him off behind her lkjahgkjhdsg

Comte @ Leo when he finds the latter under his desk: Had it not been for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you.  MC: wheezing from the hallway as she’s about to give him his letters

MC: So how was your day, honey? Comte: Good, good--briefly had to go beastmode upon the punk that pilfered my lint roller MC, biting her lip to keep from laughing: So does Leo still have his kneecaps? Comte: for now.

Comte, @ literally anyone upsetting the MC: I won’t hesitate, bitch

Comte: Be careful with my emotional baggage, it’s designer

MC: What if I was evil and ran towards you at very fast speeds Comte: My arms are strong, I would catch and hug you

Leo and Dazai are the ones that don’t have a single reference point but are filled with so much dumbass chaos energy that they just. Understand immediately???? Nobody knows how or why, but they just catch on so fast--adapt the language in a matter of weeks. Never underestimate the power of combined boredom, depression, and humor

I swear to god I just see MC taking them their Blanc/Rouge and being like “here you go sir, one enslaved moisture” and they just go fucking hog wild from day one. MC starts impersonating Theo when he leaves the room around Dazai, like fake deep voice “you all only hate me because you do not like me and I am mean to you. grow up.” Or like the MC meets a baby on her travels with Leo around town and she holds them and says v seriously and sagely “So you are Baby? I have heard tales of your exploits.” and Leo about loses his shit right there. They both think MC is the funniest person alive--they’ve never been more eager to throw a ring at someone in their entire life.

Also a bonus for my beloved Dazai:  MC, facing even the slightest inconvenience (like dropping her fork) in the most dramtic voice possible: Life is not daijoubu. Dazai: wheezing

MC, after watching Theo turn down a woman at the bar in the meanest way possible: bro quit letting the darkness consume you u r scaring the hoes Dazai, literally rolling around on the ground, half-drunk and dying:

MC, walking alongside Dazai and stopping to stare at her reflection in the River Seine. Dazai’s expecting some sad or twisted shit, since people often feel comfortable talking about those things around him, but instead she just: “Oh, it’s you. The source of all my problems.” And he about falls into the river from shock HAHAHA

At this point don’t be surprised if his next book is about an absolute madlad woman similar to MC

Napoleon finds it to be a delightful quirk more than anything? He doesn’t really understand it, but he finds it funny when they change their voice for effect or speak in exaggerated tones. If it’s just comprehensible enough for an outsider to understand--or Sebas gives him context--chances are it’ll send him into a laughing fit

For this one I just imagine MC singing that Ratatouille meme song obnoxiously bad while cooking, and Napoleon and Comte are just so wildly amused by it bc it makes zero sense and it’s only vaguely French at this point

MC @ Napoleon while they’re cooking brunch: Can I offer you a nice egg in these trying times?

MC, conflicted because she’s tired and wanted to sleep in but also got to see Napo’s cute sleeping face for a few hours: For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5AM on the day I can sleep in. Sebas: Early to bed and early to rise makes a person healthy, wealthy, and wise MC: early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch Napoleon: laughing in agreement

Isaac is the type to be bewildered and concerned at first (especially when he hears the more nihilistic ones hoOOOoooOO BOY) but eventually begins to understand it’s some bizarre attempt at humor (that hurts Zack baby). While some part of him laments that it reminds him of Dazai and he’s secretly jealous of how she and Dazai bond over it, he will sometimes join in the chaos when the mood strikes him and he’s feeling mischievous

Isaac: How are you feeling? MC: Oh, I’m not Isaac: seconds from dialing 911 Isaac: Are you okay? MC: Oh yeah dw I just suffer from that syndrome where your neutral expression makes you look like you’re an angry serial killer Isaac: say sike rn

Isaac, tutoring MC and correcting something:  MC, muttering while redoing it: The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math. Isaac: unable to help a laugh

One time MC was avoiding Isaac for fear of hurting his feelings and he just confronts her like: Isaac: back by unpopular demand, me! What’s wrong, MC pls MC was so hecking proud of him

Isaac, telling MC about a recent discovery he learned at uni from another professor: bones typically heal stronger after they’ve been broken--so long as they’re set properly, of course MC, looking him dead in the eyes: So what you’re saying is that I should break every bone in my body until I become superhumanly powerful? Isaac: please do not, no

Mozart and Jeanne are just. Totally lost. Why are you talking like that??? Why are you making “crab hands”???? They don’t understand. Maybe never will. They reach a point where they just kind of laugh and shake their heads, endeared by the oddity after they’re used to it and have determined it isn’t a threat/insult. 

MC: It’s a cold and it’s a brooooken, Waluigi. Waaaaluigiiiii...waaaahluigi..... Mozart: surprised, then starts snickering and playing along on the piano

Arthur, asking MC very personal questions out loud because he is an idiot sometimes: Soooo MC, are you a top or a bottom? MC: I’m a threat. (If he asks a second time, the response will be “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy.”) Jeanne, fighting a smile:

MC, about to punch an asshole: Your free trial of being alive has ended Jeanne, seconds from laughing for the first time in 100 years:

Also, because I genuinely can’t help myself. You know that knight meme like “Parry this you fucking casual.” I cannot stress enough that it is literally the personification of Jeanne’s entire character. I’m not even joking.

Arthur and Shakespeare are utterly fascinated by the rapid evolution of wordplay and the sheer hilarity. They will ask all about these so-called “memes” and ask for examples of them if MC can show them (either somehow accessing her phone or drawing them). MC draws Arthur the knife cat meme and he about a s c e n d s at the hilarity of it all, points and yells THEO IS HOLDING THE KNIFE. He is correct. They will be delighted and follow along eagerly, and--god forbid--will make their own based on late 19th century struggles.

Is this where Shakespeare got the idea for “What, you egg? stabs him” and “You are a saucy boy.”? I’m too scared to ask. Don’t even get me started on “The Fool jingled miserably across the floor.” That one is just too on the nose...

I can’t even imagine what would happen to Shakespeare if MC like translated vines and memes into Ye Olde English around him. Imagine she’s at one of those noble balls and hears rumors of these two guys living together and they’re so obviously gay and he says “And those gents w’re roommates.” And in the most false surprised tone ever MC just replies “oh mine own god, those gents w’re roommates.” Imagine having a wife that’s just as hilarious as you are and hits you with all the force of a bag of wet mice every time you speak in retaliation, he’s going into palpitations.

Every time Arthur does smth stupid MC just: “I Pretend I Do Not See It.”

Vincent is tickled pink by MC’s penchant for finding joy and/or amusement in nearly everything they do, and he smiles gently when he sees them muttering and laughing to themselves. He wants to be able to join them in what they love, but he has a harder time following along and understanding the darker humor sometimes. Mostly gets confused??? Please give him the easier ones to mimic and laugh when he tries--or just include him in your jokes MC. He’s babie your honor...

But he also. Will not. Stand any kind of self-deprecation or borderline verbal self-harm. He’s usually very easygoing and calm, but for whatever reason that stuff makes him go deathly quiet and upset.

MC, after something goes horribly wrong, hugging Vincent: Oh Vince, we really in it now Vincent: giggling a little despite his worries, relaxing

MC: Theo stop simping for Vincent that’s my job

MC, when Theo leaves the room and she gets Vincent all to herself: The evil is defeated.

MC: And this is where I would put my will to live...if I h a d one! Vincent: ;-; MC: oh shit, oh fuck, I was only kidding Vincent wait (MC was subsequently lectured and loved on for many hours)

Theo is conflicted because on the one hand, he loves to see you smiling and having fun. On the other, you’re clowning as hard as Dazai and Arthur and he can only handle so many monkeys in his circus. Most of the time he will roll his eyes and be the straight man of this comedy, but you might find him cracking a smile--or accidentally letting a chuckle slip past his lips now and again.

MC, after meeting Theo: I’m a nice person, but I’m about to start throwing rocks at people.

Theo, those first days: Oh? You’re approaching me? Instead of running away, you’re coming right to me? MC: I can’t beat the shit out of you without getting closer.

Theo: Every time I ask MC to explain “vibe check” to me she hits me with some kind of improvised weapon

MC, after the “incident” (you know the one): This year, I lost my dear lover Theo Theo, in the distance: QUIT TELLING EVERYONE I’M DEAD! MC: ;-; sometimes I can still hear his voice...

Sebastian is last because oh boy. OH BOYYYYY I LOVE HIM. Okay so the way I see this happening with Sebastian is just. So wild. Because at first he’s t r y i n g so hard to be the proper butler man. He does not meme. But then he starts to drift closer to what Niles from The Nanny was, where he’ll quip and joke in private or when the situation is just beyond the amount of absurdity he can handle without making a snarky comment. Everyone in the house can’t fathom how Sebas and MC got so close so fast, but there are points where they’re just “Are they even speaking English anymore???” It’s 11 times funnier than normal because Sebas almost never smiles or laughs when memeing, the deadpan quality of his playing along sends MC every time

Has ABSOLUTELY said “HEY. PANINI HEAD. ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME???” jokingly when MC made a mistake in the kitchen. They laugh about it for y e a r s

MC: I can’t date someone who keeps a lamb as a pet, that’s so weird Sebas, brushing Lotte in front of MC: MC: MC: Okay, I will make an exception because she looks very polite

MC and Sebas, fully aware of the fame some of the men will reach in modern times: We will watch your career with great interest.  (I s2g that’s like half of Sebas’ rt right there I’m crying)

Sebas rt with Lotte be like that 500 dollar Mareep meme: “sometimes a family can be just a boy, his gf, and their 500 dollar two foot tall Lotte”

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 17: Crime Boss

Written by: The Maribat Pit  @jasonette-july-event

Prompt: Crime Boss

Rated: M (Canon-typical violence, sexual innuendo, but also the Ventriloquist dies horribly in this one)

Ladybug’s knees collided painfully with the hardwood floor, there was maybe a very thin threadbare carpet to soften the blow.  The more she struggled, the more the handcuffs started to bite and chafe at her wrists.  She could really use someone with Cataclysm right about now, but she left that someone behind and took his ring with her.  She came to Gotham to get away from her life in Paris, away from the trials and tribulations of her teenage years.  By day she was a design student at Gotham University, and she wasn’t doing much else by night.  One night, tonight of all nights, she walked past a teenage boy being beaten up on a street corner.  The teenage boy in question was her neighbour, Leon. She sometimes took care of him when his dad was busy.  She just could not resist calling upon Tikki’s help to stop them.  Now here she was, with a bag over her head, about to meet her maker at the hands of a formidable crime lord.  She had heard whispers about “The Red Hood” and how he had done away with Black Mask and crowned himself as his successor.  She started to wonder if leaving Paris was a good idea after all.

Just as she was pondering this, the bag covering her head was ripped away and she was torn away from her thoughts at that moment.  She found herself looking up at a figure dressed neck to toe in leather and Kevlar.  He sat in the armchair with his legs leisurely sprawled out, his gloved hands gripping the armrests as he leaned forward to get a better look at her.  Ladybug saw her frightened expression reflected in a shiny, scarlet helmet, with two white spots that looked like eyes.  Ladybug could have sworn that he was squinting at her behind the helmet, closely watching and waiting for her next move.  

“So, why did you bring me another costumed vigilante?” He asked, the mask was muffling his voice, but she could clearly hear what he was saying. 

“We were taking care of some business and she got in the way,” the henchman to her left informed him.  He leaned in closer to whisper to me, “not so tough now, are you Sweetheart?” he laughed as Marinette tried to lean away from him.  Was every man determined to invade her personal space every chance they got?

“I’m asking the questions here, I will decide what to do with her.” Red Hood snapped at the henchman, he leaned back in his chair as the henchman backed away.

“Don’t know if she’s from around here, Boss.” The henchman to her other side remarked. “The little lady spoke with an accent when she tried to stop us”, Ladybug glanced over at the other Henchman before turning her attention back to the faceless man in front of her. 

Red Hood looked at the two Henchmen before looking down at the girl kneeling in front of him.  The costume was a bright red bodysuit with black polka dots, and she had a matching domino mask to hide her identity.  Her dark blue eyes were frantically trying to read the men surrounding her, there was no mistaking the fear in her expression.  Something was amiss, why would they bring him someone whom they could easily have overpowered?  Maybe they thought it would be funny to see him shoot her brains out of her pretty little head.  He noticed one of the henchmen had faint red welts around his arm, almost as if someone tried wrapping wire around it.  The lines were too thin, compared to the more sturdy grappling wires he used.  His other Henchman had a bruise on his cheek that was probably going to go from a plum colour to a sickly yellow in the days to come.  If the girl was another one of Bruce’s pet projects, then she might send the old man right to his doorstep.  If she wasn’t, she would have fit the bill anyhow.  With her dark hair and blue eyes, how she apparently just leapt into action to save a complete stranger from being beaten up.   She wasn’t armed to the teeth with gadgets, and he’d have heard something if Bruce had taken in another protégé.

“So, can you understand what I’m saying?” he asked, she simply nodded, not saying anything in response.  “What happened?” he tried to keep it simple, no sense dancing around the topic, “Who are you?”

“Your two men were hurting someone, I couldn’t ignore them” she explained, her fear morphing into a show of defiance.  Red Hood shook his head, so a vigilante no one’s heard of just leapt in to stop his men from hurting someone.  She was either very foolish or had been doing this for a very long time. 

“That someone was a little punk who owed us money” one of the Henchmen explained, “we gave ya a chance to walk away girlie, even after you whipped out your little toy.” He chuckled.

“Who owed me money?” Red Hood asked, the men suddenly went very quiet.  Something still wasn’t right, and his men weren’t talking.  He turned his attention back to the girl, time for a different tactic. “Did you know who they were hurting?” he asked, Ladybug thought for a moment before shaking her head.  So she jumped in to save a complete stranger? He couldn’t say he was surprised, what she said next would make this much more interesting.

“He was just a boy,” she explained, trying not to stutter as she looked up at him.  “He-” she began, she looked up to see the henchmen were ready to lunge for her.

He raised a hand to stop them, “go on” he told her.

“He said he owed your men money because he bought drugs from them” she said, now trying to get the words out before someone could stop her.  “He was just a boy, he’s around 14 years old, he needed help”.  His hands reached for his pistols. “Woah boss, you can’t seriously believe what this girl is saying, right?” one of the henchmen called out.

Red Hood ordered his men to shut up. “So what’s the boy’s name?” 

Ladybug gulped, “Leon” she answered.

Red Hood glared at his men. 

One man spoke up, "Punk owed us money, still hasn’t paid us for the goods, that’s why we gave ‘em a beating.” The man immediately covered his mouth. “What did I tell you, scumbags?” he asked in a low, harsh voice. “Look, we-” “My one rule.” he reiterated, Ladybug swallowed hard.  This wasn’t going to end well for any of them. “No dealing to children,” the henchman told him, “we weren’t, we were dealing to some old guy who happened to have a kid...as a courier.” he explained.  Ladybug thought it was their word over hers, she looked back up at him.  If that was his one golden rule, then it was one they had undoubtedly crossed.   She had to play her cards right, if she wanted to appeal to his humanity.  “Ask anyone in the area, and they’ll tell you he’s just a kid,” she said, “His dad barely leaves his living room, never mind the apartment.” Ladybug noticed Red Hood reach for the guns, she shut her eyes tight and ducked as if that would save her from the two gunshots she heard.

Ladybug waited for the pain of the gunshot wound, maybe even numbness from where she had been shot.  There was no guarantee that Tikki was able to protect her from gunshots, but she didn’t feel anything.  She slowly opened one eye to look up at the tall, imposing figure in front of her, who went back to reading his book.  She opened her other eye and slowly got up to find the Red Hood leisurely leaning back in his armchair, while the two henchmen lay dead on the floor.  He put his guns back in their holsters before picking up the open book next to him.  Ladybug looked around at the two men, dead on the floor with blood dripping from their foreheads.  “Y-you killed them,” she stammered, before she cursed herself, as if stating the obvious was going to stop him from putting a bullet in her. 

“I have one golden rule, and they broke it.” He explained, he lowered his book as he stared her down.  “Still, what am I going to do with you?” he wondered aloud. 

“You can start by letting me go,” she spat, she stood up as she looked right into the glowing white lights on his helmet.  Her hands were still bound by the cuffs, but she still had her legs.  Her mind raced with all the things she could do if he tried anything.  She could kick him away or use the handcuff chain to choke this man if he tried anything.  What she should be doing is running for the exit or finding a way to break the handcuffs. Instead, the man put the book down and grabbed the handcuffs by the chain.  The Red Hood could just about see the gears turning in her head as she tried to find a way out of this situation.

“Well, if the accent is anything to go by, I’d say you’re probably French? Maybe Belgian.  Eitherway, you’re a loose end I really can’t afford right now,” he explained as he pulled her closer to him.  “So, tell me mon amie, what are we going to do with you?” he asked.  Marinette tried to pull away, but his grip held her in place without too much trouble. 

Red Hood obviously didn’t plan on killing the girl right then and there, it wasn’t her fault that a couple of henchmen wanted to cover their asses for doing the one thing he told them not to.  The problem was, she didn’t know that.  As far as she was concerned, she was unlucky enough to wind up on her knees in front of an up-and-coming crime lord.  He pulled the chains towards him.  “Consider this a favor, I’ll come and find you when I’m looking to cash it in.” He stood up and put the bag over her head, still holding her by the handcuffs. 

Ladybug though he was surprisingly a little more gentle with her as he led her away from his hideout.  All she could hear were gentle reminders to watch her step, as he led her down steps and into what felt like a cool breeze outside. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, but there was no answer. After a few steps of literally blindly following a stranger, they stopped.  He pulled the bag off her head and Ladybug had to blink a couple of times to adjust to the sudden rush of light to her eyes.  She looked around and saw that she was at the pier, watching the sun rise over Gotham Bay.

“Hold still” was all she heard, as he jerked the cuffs forward and unlocked them one by one.  Ladybug looked up and only just realised that the Red Hood absolutely towered over her.

Ladybug rubbed her chafed wrists with her hands, “Thank you” she muttered, avoiding eye contact with the person in front of her.  She didn’t know what to make of him, so she wasn’t sure how she felt about owing him favours.  On the one hand, he was a formidable crime boss who had just killed two of his own men without a second thought.  On the other hand, he killed them because he drew the line at harming kids and selling drugs to them.  Seeing as she was an 18-year-old crimefighter, did he have any qualms about hurting her?  She could not be certain, though she was also cursing herself for thinking that there was something intriguing about the crime boss with an altruistic side.  “This favour…” Ladybug began, trying to look him in the eyes and ask about it.

“I’ll come and find you when I need you, I have eyes and ears all over the city now” he explained, “no offense Pixie, but you kinda stick out like a sore thumb”.  He leaned in to whisper in her ear, “if you want to make it easier on us both, meet me in Crime Alley in a week’s time”.

“And I won’t tell anyone that their city’s big bad crime boss has a sense of humour” she joked.  She took out what looked like a yo-yo and launched it towards a lamp post and swung away.

Jason was used to people not trusting him, least of all his adopted family, and now there was the plucky young crimefighter dumb enough to take on two men twice her size.  She had guts, he had to admit, and if she kept this up it wouldn’t be long before Batman took notice.  Jason tensed up at the thought, he had just met this girl, but he wouldn’t wish what he or the others went through on her.   He wondered how long she had been doing this.  The idea that someone put her up to this from a young age made him even more tense.  If that was the case, he might feel a little sorry for her.  Alternatively, if she had been doing this for a long time, and was put through the same crucible as him only to emerge from the other side unscathed…what did that make him?  He had to see what she was made of, and for that, he needed to test her limits.  He asked her to meet him in Crime Alley, the place where it always began.

In the days leading up to their little reunion, he had been asking around about the costumed vigilante.  Seeing what his contacts knew, under the guise of asking if she was going to cause him any trouble.  Going through his dead henchmen’s burner phones, he managed to contact the kid that she had saved.  He sent him a message:

“We need to talk, the guys who gave you a hard time have been taken care of.  Need to ask about the girl who saved you. Meet me outside the diner tomorrow, the one near Gotham stadium. – R.H.”

He wouldn’t be surprised if the kid didn’t take the bait, after all he was probably shaken up by what happened.  He would be remiss as a former protégé of The World’s Greatest Detective if he left stones unturned.  He also thought maybe a burger and milkshake would sweeten the deal, the kid had been through enough.  He got a reply from the kid, it read:

“How do I know you’re not about to ‘take care’ of her? Or me? I don’t want any trouble. ”

He smiled, bless his little heart for trying to protect her.  He would just have to let this kid know that he was someone who could be trusted, that he had much bigger plans for his savior.

“My men crossed a line, the girl told me about what happened and I let her go.  I just want to know what you know, I’ll throw in a burger and milkshake. – R.H.”

The next day he waited, he had hoped wherever the kid was, he was one of the many teenagers finishing school around this time.  There was no guarantee that the kid would show up.  At around 4:30pm, sure enough a scrawny little teenager was looking around for the mysterious Red Hood.  Jason noticed the kid was wearing sunglasses, probably in a feeble attempt to hide the bruising on the side of his face. “H-hello?” he spluttered to no one in particular, Red Hood emerged from the shadows with a brown paper bag.

The kid rushed towards him, and he held it open so that he could see what was inside. “You’re the kid who got beaten up a few days ago?” he nodded sheepishly, Red Hood put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Listen, I took care of them because they crossed a line selling the stuff to you, I’m sorry.” He handed him the paper bag.

“It wasn’t for me…the drugs I mean. My dad, he-” that just made Red Hood’s blood boil even more, but he had to focus. “My neighbor, Marinette, she’s a fashion student at Gotham U.  She looks after me sometimes, she’s really nice. She grew up in a bakery in Paris, so she’s always making bread and cakes whenever I come over.” As he explained this, Red Hood calmed down a little at the thought of someone looking out for this kid. He took a few bites of his burger, and a mouthful of the chocolate milkshake.  “I owed those guys money, usually my dad gave me money to pay them but lately he hasn’t.  So, my piggy bank was starting to run a little dry, and I guess one day they got sick of waiting.” He explained, Red Hood tried to steer the conversation towards the girl saving him.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, just tell me what happened when the girl showed up” he told him in a soft voice.

“I thought I saw a pink light in the distance, and when I looked up, a girl in a red polka-dotted suit was trying to save me.  One guy was about to punch me when she used a yo-yo and wrapped it around his arm to pull it away from me. I don’t know what that thing was made of, but she managed to pull the guy towards her and away from me.” He continued to gush about how happy he was that this costumed heroine stepped in to save him.  As he described the fight, that first part lined up with the marks he saw on the henchman’s forearm.  “She just told me to ‘run’ and I didn’t really question it”, he explained.

“So, a girl in a magic costume saved you by using her magic yo-yo?” He asked, “did you see anything else?”

“Nope, I did what I was told and ran like hell.  I tried to see if my neighbour, Marinette, was home, but she was probably at the library or something” he told her.  This neighbour was a student, probably pulling an all-nighter somewhere working on a project.

“You did good kid.” He stuffed a couple of hundred into the kid’s pocket. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

“Please, don’t hurt her, she didn’t do anything wrong.  She was just trying to help me,” he pleaded.

“Relax kid, like I said, the two guys won’t be bothering you anymore”, and with that he turned and walked away.  “Go see your neighbour, Marionette or whatever, she’s probably worried sick about you”, with that he disappeared into the shadows once again.

Marinette made it home safely that night, and had spent the last few days trying not to think about what this crime boss had planned for her.  If he wanted to kill her, he could have done it right then and there.  Maybe he planned to drag this out and torture her, she had no way of knowing what he had in mind.  “There was something strange about that man”, Tikki mused when she finally powered down. 

“How so?” she asked as Tikki nibbled on the cookie she kept in her bag on the way home.

“You should probably take Plagg with you next time, I could feel something strange in his aura” Tikki told her.  “I could sense my own magic, but his magic might be mixed in there too”, she explained. 

“Did you and Plagg know who he was? Did you grant a wish for him?” she had been the Guardian since she was 13, any wish they granted before then would have been a long time ago.

“I can’t recall, but somehow he came into contact with our magic”, she explained.  Marinette decided to take her advice and bring Plagg next time, she could use Cataclysm if he tried anything. 

For the next few days, Marinette had been going about her normal, civilian life.  She was going to classes by day and working in her apartment by night.  Wednesday night, Leon finally paid her a visit and Marinette was shocked to see the bruise on his face.  Marinette decided to drop everything and give the boy some hot chocolate and cake.  He was surprisingly happy for someone who was being beaten up a few days ago.  Leon gushed about the girl who saved him, and how cool she was, and how he got to meet the Red Hood. 

Marinette froze, “Um, what’s he like?” she asked, she was surprised to hear more gushing.

“Awh he’s the best, this guy bought me a burger and a milkshake, he just wanted to know about the girl who saved me.” He was cheerfully rambling on before he noticed a slightly concerned look on Marinette’s face.

“Maybe don’t take food from strangers next time” she told him, “But what’s he like? Sorry, I haven’t lived in Gotham for very long”.

“He fights crime, just like Batman. He also looks really scary but is actually a nice guy- and I probably shouldn’t be telling you all this” he suddenly looked very sheepish.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret” she said with a wink, as she placed the warm mug of hot chocolate in front of him.   So? She was dealing with a crime boss with a VERY altruistic side, so much so that he’s considered a hero.  She should have known that, given that he shot those men for what they did to Leon.  It saddened Marinette that she couldn’t do more for Leon, but she was just a university student, she wasn’t really in a position to be his full-time guardian. 

“You make the best hot chocolate, Marinette, how do you do it?” he asked.

“Well, where I’m from we have it for breakfast.” she told him, he looked as though she told him that she communed with unicorns every morning.  “It’s true, even Marie Antoinette started her day with a cup of hot chocolate.”

“The lady who said ‘let them eat cake’?” he asked jokingly.

“Yes, but it was originally believed that she said ‘Let them eat brioche’” she told him. The two of them laughed and watched movies together, but eventually he had to return home later that night.  Considering all that she went through, Marinette felt lucky that her own family always loved and supported her.  Her father was always a gentle giant, and where her mother lacked in height she more than made up for in personality and wit.  They might not fully understand why she wanted to leave Paris of all places, to pursue a career in Fashion Design, but they supported her. 

What would they say if they could see her now? 

The week came and went, and Marinette decided to show up to Crime Alley as Lady Noire.  It was a dark and damp place, enough to give Plagg the sense that so much death and misfortune happened here.  She looked around and listened for any footsteps or figures, but the mystery man she was looking for still managed to take her by surprise.

“Surprised to see you here, Catwoman” she looked up to see the Red Hood looking down at her from a fire escape balcony. “I’m sure Batman will have something to say about the new hair,” he remarked.  There had to be some mistake here, and he seemed to realise it too when he climbed down and gave her a swift once over.  “Wait a minute…nice try poser, you’re a little short to be the real Catwoman.” he remarked, “Who are you?”.

“I’ll give you three guesses...” the girl was trying to be coy, but the accent and short stature gave it away.

“What brought on the costume change?” Red Hood asked.

“You don’t like it?” she pouted mockingly “It makes my job a whole lot harder if you’re resembling someone who takes cat burglary a little too literally”, he told her.  Now he had to rethink his plan, “why the costume change anyhow?”

“Well, you didn’t specify what your favour was. For all I know you enjoyed the sight of me kneeling in front of you in handcuffs a little too much”, Red Hood was thankful that the helmet hid the absolutely mortified look on his face.  He’d also be lying if he said he didn’t think she was cute, but he had some self-control. 

“Okay, should’ve probably said something about that. So that’s what brought about the costume change?” he asked, “Was it laundry day for the other one?”

“Let’s just say, this one has a different set of skills. This one comes with a staff, and night vision too.” she explained, “If you didn’t plan on ‘that’ kind of favour, what did you have in mind?”  Red Hood had a feeling she could do a lot more than she was letting on, but he decided to leave it for now.

“There’s a shipment of firearms weaving its way into Gotham as we speak, I plan to intercept it before Batman can find it.” He explained.

“Why? So that you can use them instead?” she snapped.

“Since you’re probably new here, trust me when I say you could do a lot worse in a place like Gotham,” he growled.  “This is also tame compared to how I would usually do things.  If anyone else got ahold of these guns, people can and will get hurt.” he told her, “Two-face, Penguin, the damned Clown Prince of Crime, none of them would think twice about mowing down innocent people to get what they want.” he took a few steps closer to her and she was trying to put on a brave face as she looked up at him.  Somehow, he got the sense that this might be out of her wheelhouse.

“So what do you want me to do?” She asked, hoping he couldn’t hear her heart pounding in her chest.  There was something about the Red Hood that Marinette couldn’t quite put her finger on.  He made it clear that he wasn’t someone to be trifled with, and that she would be foolish to underestimate him.  Yet in other ways, she could just about see the faint outline of something resembling a moral compass.  It was certainly one that was cracked, but she could just about glean where it was pointing.   

This was also the moment she realised she was way out of her depth.  She had been doing this for a few years, but she was used to people who were being controlled by Hawk Moth or Mayura.  Akumas and Amoks prepared her for a lot of things, this wasn’t one of them. 

“All right, follow me.” commanded the Red Hood as he grappled up to a roof, Lady Noire jumping from ledge to ledge to follow. The two jumped across the rooftops of Gotham until they arrived at the docks. The two stood at a rooftop across a warehouse, Red Hood perched on the ledge waiting. Red Hood points to a few small speed boats racing towards a warehouse. The speedboats quickly dock and a large group of mobsters come from the warehouse to begin unloading. As the crew quickly unload the smuggled weapons to trucks in the warehouse, the boss of the group shouts at them. “All right, hurry up and load the goods into the trucks.” spoke Scarface.

Lady Noire could hear a light growl from Red Hood, “Damn, it’s the Ventriloquist. Ready for a fight?” 

Lady Noire nodded and the two jumped down to the docks. They crash landed on a couple of mobsters, knocking them out instantly. Lady Noire used her staff to fight them off, while Red Hood ran off towards the warehouse, presumably to get the smuggled weapons. 

The Ventriloquist turned around and Scarface roared, “Shoot her!” and fired his tommy gun Lady Noire. She spun her staff quickly, creating a force field deflecting the hail of bullets coming her way.  

As the torrent subsided she heard the mob boss yell. “Help me reload ya dummy” commanded Scarface. “Yes sir,” Wesker meekly replied. 

Lady Noire took this opportunity to finish off the remaining goons in the area. Just as she knocked out the last mobster, a baseball bat cracked along the back of her skull and sent her to her knees.  She then felt hot metal placed on the back of her head and a howl of laughter. “Gotcha now ya dumb broad!” Scarface laughed.

At that moment Lady Noire panicked, she cast Cataclysm and took a swipe at Scarface. This sliced Scarface in half, however the disintegration continued. Lady Noire watched in horror and disgust as she saw Cataclysm burning away the Ventriloquist's arm. His cries of pain and begging for mercy forever etched into her mind. She felt faint and began hyperventilating as she watched the man slowly dissolve. She fell to her knees and held her other hand to her mouth, feeling the bile rise up.  She wanted to reach out, to apologise, but it was too late. She could not bear to watch anymore.  Her vision turned to black as she fell to the ground. 

Marinette woke with a start to find herself somewhere strange. Someone had laid her down to rest on a mattress.  She could hear the sound of keys tapping away on a computer, and moments later the sound of someone saying “Welcome back to the land of the living, Pixie Pop.” Marinette looked around at her surroundings, she had no idea where she was.  On the other side of the room, a boy who was only a year or two older than her turned in his chair to look at her.  Marinette sat up, her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to make sense of what had happened. The boy stood up and came over to see if she was all right.

“Where am I?” she asked, “What happened? Who are you?”

“To answer your questions, you’re in a decommissioned bomb shelter that I use as a hideout.  What happened is you took out one of Gotham’s crime bosses.  Not bad for baby’s first arms deal, “ he explained. Marinette was still trying to remember how she ended up here. “had to get out before Batman and the others got there but couldn’t find you, that was until I saw a flash of black and green light.”

It was all coming back to her, she remembered what transpired the previous night. She remembers how the cries of agony and the horror of watching a man slowly melt with the power of Cataclysm.  Marinette hadn’t used Lady Noire very often, and she was starting to wonder how Chat Noir managed all those years with this power. 

“Hey, Pixie? Still there?” the boy asked, slowly reaching out to touch her shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” she yelled, her hands shook as she remembered what she’d done, “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“First of all, it was awfully nice of you to leave out the fact that you could use magic” he told her. Jason wasn’t angry in the same way Bruce would have been, Bruce didn’t trust magic users like Constantine further than he could throw him.  Still, when you’re trained by the World’s Greatest Detective, magic becomes the ultimate wild card.  He tried a different approach, the last thing she needed was to be lectured about how an arms dealer deserves to live more than her.  “Second of all, the way I see it, it was you or him.  He could have killed you, then what?” He asked.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” she spat, “maybe you’re used to this but I’m not! The people I was up against were always being controlled by someone else! They were ordinary people who let their negative emotions rule them!”  Her voice was shaking with rage and she looked away, there was no way she was going to let him see her cry.  “I didn’t even plan on continuing to be a hero, I have been doing it since I was 13.  When...I saw that poor boy in the alleyway I just...I’ve done what you asked now leave me alone.” she turned away and hugged her knees as she curled up on the edge of the mattress. 

Jason realised what made her so upset in that moment, telling her it was a matter of survival was pretty cold comfort for someone who’d just killed someone for the first time.  The fact of the matter was they had both been at this from a young age. The difference was he had been trained to fight superpowered murderers and madmen, people who were evil of their own volition.  He didn’t enjoy seeing her like this, but she made it clear that he didn’t have a clue what her world looked like.  It was probably a hell of a lot sunnier than his outlook, it probably literally smelled like sugar, spice and everything nice.  “If he had killed you, and he could have, I would have made him suffer a lot worse than you did.  Only difference is I know how.” he said there was no use sugarcoating the truth.

“Why?” she asked, “am I just some pawn in your little game against Batman?”

He walked over to the bookshelf shelf, filled with his own little souvenir collection.  A copy of the Art of War, The Prince, and many other books were nestled around them.  Among them was a photograph he took back with him on one of his trips back to Wayne Manor.  He tried to keep his frustration in check, tried to remind himself that she was just shaken, even if she had acted in self-defense.  He took the framed photograph off the shelf and handed it to her.  As far as they knew, the boy in that picture was dead and in many ways he still was.  “Look familiar?” he asked as he sat back down on the mattress, propping himself up on his arms as he leaned back.

Marinette looked at the photo, there was no mistaking that as Batman, standing there with a stern and serious expression.  The boy next to him was dressed a lot more colourfully, Marinette almost wanted to make her own adjustments to its design.  By contrast the boy had a cheeky smile, as if he was ready to take on the world with Batman at his side. She also noticed the person next to her had a white lock of hair framing his face. “Is that…'' she asked, she had stopped crying but now she was working out what he was trying to say.  She looked at the boy in the photo and back to him, his features were a little sharper now but she could just about see that boy beneath the surface.  “What happened?” she asked, there was no sense asking questions she knew the answer to.

“What could have happened to you.” he told her.  It clicked in Marinette’s mind at that moment, in his own way he wanted to protect her.  Her heart was pounding at the thought, she was so used to shouldering the responsibility of protecting everyone. Yet, here she was getting excited at the thought of someone doing the same for her.  Maybe Ladybug reminded him of the boy in the photograph, brimming with hope that they could make the world just a little brighter.  What happened to him and how it happened was a story for another day.  She felt a comforting hand hovering just over her shoulder, she gently took his hand and held it to her.  They sat there for a long moment, just two people enjoying each other’s company.  “What’s the boy’s name?” she asked as she turned and handed the photograph back to him.  She wiped her tears on her sleeve before smiling at him.

“Jason, Jason Todd, yours?” he asked, giving her that same smile as the boy in the photo. “No one calls me “Jason Peter Todd” unless I am in seriously deep shit”, he joked.

“Marinette, Marinette Dupain-Cheng” she told him, “I’m the guardian of magical items called the Miraculous. It’s my job to keep them out of the wrong hands, for…well now you know why.”

It suddenly made sense to Jason why she leapt into action to save that boy without a second thought.  Not just because she was his neighbour and cared about him, but because that’s just what she did, and has been doing for a long time.  The whole magic thing was still going to take some getting used to, and he had to guess she had many more tricks up her sleeve.  Still, he had to admit they made a pretty good team last night.  She hadn’t been put through quite the same trials and tribulations as him, so who could say if she would end up just like him?  As long as he was around, no one would get that chance.  He stood up, taking his hand off her shoulder and holding it out to help her up.  “Need a ride?” he asked, Marinette smiled brightly up at him before she took his hand.

[hockeyboysiguess]

three french horns -> three goal horns | n. mackinnon

a/n: and like clockwork, here is fic number three in my 12 days of christmas series! i wrote this one a while ago and i hurt myself re-reading it to proof it, so i hope you all like it! rest of the christmas series linked here.

word count:  4,037

warnings: alcohol, drinking 

“Hey, Nate?” you called out from the living room when you heard the back door open, signaling his reappearance in the house after letting the dogs outside. 

“Yeah, baby?” he asked as he stomped his boots on the mat, shaking the last bit of the early Denver snow off. 

You asked the question you’d been asking him since two weeks after his birthday, the same question you’d been asking a variation of for the three months before his birthday. “Nate, what do you want for Christmas?” 

The sound that left Nate’s mouth was barely human, a groan coming from deep within, from the place that never knew what he wanted for any major gift giving holiday of any kind. You tried to be original, get sentimental things, but it was hard to buy for someone who could literally buy anything they ever wanted. Nate didn’t have big, expensive wishes, so if he wanted something, he often just bought it on the spot and you were none-the-wiser until it showed up at his house. This penchant, this bad habit, carried throughout the holiday season; it was a perpetual state of being for Nathan MacKinnon. This meant that items Nate ordered for himself were as likely to show up December 24th as any other day of the year, which was eternally infuriating as a person in his life trying to buy him gifts on the semi-regular basis. 

“I don’t know,” he answered you, like he did every other time. “I’ll like it because it’s from you.” 

That response was sweet the first, second, and half-sweet the third time he’d used it on you. Now, that response was worn out like an old pair of jeans, with holes in the thighs and the knees hanging together by a thread, absolutely unusable at this point in time really. Yet Nate continued to say it, like that string of seven words didn’t light a fire in your stomach completely unlike the kind crackling under the stockings on the mantle right now. 

“Nate,” you groaned, all too similarly to how he had when you asked your question. Spend enough time with a person and you pick up their habits. You and Nate were a completely unoriginal example of that. “You know I hate when you say that.” 

Nate rolled his eyes and shrugged, “Well, I don’t really know. A hat trick? But you can’t get me that, I’ve got to get that for me.” 

The infamous illusive hat trick. While it wasn’t those dreaded seven words, you were pretty sure you had heard about this hat trick that was alluding him every other day at this point. In all fairness to Nate, the amount of times he had scored twice in the first two periods of a game this season and been held off the scoreboard in the second was absurd. Commentators were joking about it, his teammates were chirping him over not one, not two, but three missed empty netters that would’ve sealed it, even though Nate liked to say those didn’t really count as hat tricks. Greater than all of that, Nate was starting to incredibly frustrated with himself and his performances. You knew Nate was a competitive guy before you even went on your first date with him, but his competitiveness ran deep and honestly you weren’t sure your relationship would work if you were even an ounce more competitive than you were. Nate had to win, he had to achieve his goals. This goal was quite simply just three goals, but it continued to be just out of reach this season and coming up on the holiday season, pushing the halfway mark, Nate was starting to think it might not happen this year. 

“You’ll get one, Nate,” you sighed. “You’re so close and you’re too good not to get whatever you put your mind to.” 

“I got a good feeling about the game tomorrow,” he replied, sliding up next to you on the couch to throw a Christmas sweater-covered arm around your shoulders. “My good luck charm is going to be there, right?” 

Nate wasn’t superstitious in the slightest, but he said he always scored more whenever you came. Statistically, a complete lie, but it made you feel special all the same. He kissed your temple softly as he relaxed into the couch cushions next to you. 

“So, what are we watching? Classic or trashy Christmas?” 

That question itself somehow encapsulated every single reason you loved Nathan MacKinnon, despite his pension for buying his own Christmas presents, his overly competitive nature, and the difficulty that came with trying to buy him a present. Nate didn’t love Christmas movies; he wasn’t a hater like some people you’d dated before, but you adored them, both classic and trashy alike. Nate jumped on board with whatever you liked, no questions asked. He always said you didn’t sign up to date all of his teammates that walked through the door scrounging for homemade food or the long hours alone, the least he could do was be as supportive of the things you liked as you were about hockey for him. Nate’s support came in casual, steady waves of constantly and consistently showing up, no matter how tired he was, no matter how long the day before had been. He might fall asleep twenty minutes into the movie, but Nate was here and active and present for as long as he could stay awake. He’d cross deserts and move mountains for an hour with you, and some days that’s what it took, but Nate showed up and jumped on board, which made him the easiest person in the world to love in spite of everything else. It made him the only person you wanted to spend this Christmas and every other one in the future with.

The next day, with his last name on your back and a Santa hat on your head, you found yourself in a position that felt all too familiar this season. You were watching the ice with eager eyes among the other wives and girlfriends. Your breath caught in your throat halfway through the first when you saw two seconds after him that there was nothing between Nate and the net but open ice and a goaltender. You slowly stood up, leaning forward as if those all important inches would help you see the ice better. You didn’t miss the puck sailing over the blocker’s side of the goaltender, or the eruption of cheers from everyone around you as the goal horn rang out, hopefully the first of three for Nate this evening. Mel hugged you, as if you had anything to do with Nate scoring. You adjusted your hat, pulling at the fluffy white edge until it sat a little less haphazardly on your head as you cheered. 

“Two more, right?” Mel waggled her eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes. 

“For my sake, I hope so,” you laughed. 

Going into Christmas break without this elusive hat trick meant the next four days would be spent with Nate’s mind half at the rink, trying to scheme and plan and game his way into a hat trick, as if the part he was missing was anything other than luck. Maybe he didn’t need regular luck though, maybe just a little bit of Christmas would do the trick tonight. Your third beer in, a vain attempt to calm your nerves with alcohol, and five minutes into the second, on the power play, you watched as Nate easily sailed in his second goal of the game from the high slot, causing the ever familiar cheers and the ringing of the Avalanche goal horn to sound out across the arena. 

Two down, and hopefully one to go. 

“Hatty watch,” one of the other girls sang out from behind you, giving your shoulders a squeeze. 

You let out a loud, long breath, causing a wave of laughter to ripple across the other women around you. Mel teased you about it; they all did. Nate’s quest was well known among the group, something they were equally supportive and teasing about. 

“He’ll get one,” Mel assured you with a comforting pat to your leg. “He’s too good not to.”

You really thought he had it. You watched as Mikko and Nate peeled off from the defenders caught on an odd change, leading to a two-on-one with a lone opposing forward doing his best, but poor, impersonation of a defensemen. Mikko passed the puck to Nate, which Nate passed back easily and set himself up for the perfect slap shot on the return. The quick passing had sent the other team’s player sprawling over the ice. It was just Nate and the goaltender, who was frantically shifting his eyes from Mikko to Nate, tilting back and forth on the ice. Mikko’s pass was perfect, right on the middle of Nate’s tape and Nate was ready for the pass. It was tracking high glove side, exactly where Nate wanted it to go, right into the back of the net. The goalie was facing Mikko, two key seconds behind the actual action. Except out of nowhere, the Grinch stole Christmas and Nate’s hat trick when the goalie’s glove suddenly appeared in the path the puck was taking and wrapped around the puck, just on the wrong side of the goal line for Nate. 

The referee blew the whistle and signaled no goal. Nate’s hands dropped down, stick hanging low. His head tilted up toward the ceiling of the arena and you could practically hear the groan rise from deep in his chest. It was absolute robbery at its finest and the entire arena knew luck wasn’t on Nate’s side that night. You slumped down into your seat, preparing yourself for yet another two goal game and a frustrated Nate waiting for you in the tunnel when it was over. There were another twenty minutes left in the game, but if the first half of the season had taught you anything, third periods weren’t where Nate racked up anything other than wins and assists, both of which he loved, but he just wanted a third goal, just once. Mikko and Gabe each having one already this season, all six goals involving Nate as either the primary or secondary assist, didn’t help either. 

“I think you need to pray or something,” Mel told you with a laugh. “Pray to anything and anyone out there at this point.”

You cleared your throat and looked up at the ceiling of the Pepsi arena, “Santa, I know this isn’t how you take requests,” Mel and the girls around you were already laughing, “but please, pretty freaking please, can we just get some Christmas miracle magic vibes in here? It’s all he wants for Christmas. Please and thank you and I hope you have a Merry Christmas.” 

“Are you supposed to say amen if you pray to Santa?” someone behind you asked. 

“Look I’m not opposed to it,” you sighed. “It just didn’t feel like the right ending when I was asking for a Christmas miracle.”

The girls all laughed and you just stared up at the ceiling. Maybe Santa might grant your unorthodox request delivered via an even more unorthodox method. Maybe you should’ve written him a letter and dropped it into one of those charity red mailboxes at Macy’s. Maybe Nate just wouldn’t be getting the one thing he wanted for Christmas and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it. You knew he was joking when he asked for a hat trick for Christmas, but joking or not, it was the only thing he even sort of mentioned wanting. If sending out a Christmas wish audibly in the middle of the Pepsi arena was what it took, you were more than happy to do it. 

You grabbed your fourth and fifth beer together during the intermission, knowing full and well that you didn’t want to miss a second of one of Nate’s shifts in case something good happened. If after all of this time, all of this waiting, all of Nate’s back and forth debating, if you missed his hat trick goal because you were grabbing another beer, you would have to guess that higher powers didn’t exist and the hockey gods loved laughing at you and maybe Christmas wasn’t that magical after all. 

The third period was half over when you finished your fourth beer. Your right leg had been bouncing on the concrete since the period started. Nate was getting some good looks, and added another assist to his point tally for the night, but you and everyone knew what he actually wanted tonight. A slashing call with eight minutes to go put the Avalanche back on the power play, and you knew Nate was going to fight to play every bit of those two minutes he could get, which meant you were about to be in for a mentally exhausting two minutes. Mel offered her hand to you, already knowing you would need her to ground you through this. 

The first shot on the power play from Mikko ended up in the opposing goaltender’s glove. Nate lined up for the next face-off and you swore you didn’t breathe as soon as the puck left the referee's hand. Nate swept it back easily to a waiting Gabe. You gripped Mel’s hand hard, grateful you both did this for each other often enough that she didn’t mind. Nate slid up through the low slot and you saw the stars aligning as Gabe sent the puck perfectly in Nate’s direction. Nate was already ready for it when it came, the puck on his stick for less than a second. Your eyes went wide and you felt like you were about to break Mel’s hand as the goaltender shrugged his shoulder up to block Nate’s shot, but he came up short and the puck hit the back of the net. 

You were screaming as you jumped to your feet, arms wrapping tightly around Mel as someone else hugged you from behind, again like you’d done anything other than practically give yourself a heart attack watching it. Nate was surrounded by his teammates on the ice, earning a swift pat on the top of the head from Gabe. A glance up at the Jumbotron showed you the wide, bright smile on his face, filling with relief and absolute joy. Mel grabbed your hat by the pom pom and chucked it down towards the ice, making you laugh and a smile that rivaled Nate’s come across your face.

“Finally,” you breathed out a sigh of relief as the arena calmed itself, calming you with it. 

You plopped back down into your seat, hatless with half a beer and your pride in Nate left to coast you through the next ten minutes. You knew Nate was going to be in a good mood, and you just wanted to get through the next ten minutes of the game to get to him and congratulate him yourself. The score was heavy in favor of the Avs and they weren’t in any danger of losing this game, so you got to drink your beer and let out a long breath you’d been holding since Nate first came home after back to back two goal games in October without a hat trick in sight. 

You were practically bouncing on your heels as you waited in the tunnel for him, fingers fussing with the frayed edge of your denim jacket to get out some of your anxious energy. The second he rounded the corner, a wide, gorgeous smile on his face, you ran toward him. Nate wasn’t the type for large public displays of affection, but satisfaction from your incredibly competitive boyfriend was a hell of an influencer and he opened his arms wide for you. You jumped into him and he stumbled a second before catching you easily, one hand guiding your legs around his waist, the other supporting the back of your thighs. 

“Congratulations,” you mumbled in his ear as he laughed at your openly shared excitement for him. 

“Thanks, baby,” he told you, the smile he was wearing evident in his voice.

“Proud of you always,” you reminded him as you untucked your head from his neck. 

You said it after every single game, win or lose, five points or no points, goal or no goal, you told Nate you were proud of him after every single game. The stats sheet didn’t matter to you. You loved him and you saw the grueling work he put in every single day, every single second he was on the ice. You were proud of him no matter what, and it was one of the thousands of reasons he had come to love you for. Your support, your pride in him and the work he put in never wavered. It was steadfast, something hard to come by in a life as crazy as he lived. You were his rock, his home, and he felt it like the gradual, comforting warmth from sitting by the fire on Christmas Eve, when the world seemed a little more good than it actually was, when you told him you were proud of him. 

Nate smiled as he pressed a soft, quick kiss to your lips before gently guiding your feet back to the ground. He pulled you in tighter, collapsing you into him as he let out a long breath that had been holding his tension for months, caught in the hollows of his chest, finally working its way out into the open air. It had been haunting him, like a ghastly Halloween hangover that dared to last until Christmas. Thankfully, it was December now and Nate felt lighter and freer than he had in months. 

“You got what you wanted for Christmas,” you mumbled into his chest, causing his chest to vibrate with laughter. 

“Guess I sort of did, yeah.” He kissed the top of your head softly. “Ready to go home?” 

“Ready for four days of you and me time?” you teased him a little. 

Despite your teasing, his response was entirely genuine, “Been looking forward to it for weeks now.” 

Your smile in response to his words stuck with you the entire way home. Nate loved you in actions, but sometimes it was nice to hear words from him as well. You kicked off your shoes at the front door, just in the knick of time before the dogs could come and greet you both. 

“Want me to crack a bottle of wine or champagne?” you asked Nate as he dropped his bag by the front door. 

“Champagne,” he told you before dropping a kiss to your temple. “We’re celebrating tonight.” 

You slid into the kitchen, dogs hot on your heels, as you made a beeline for the champagne in the fridge. You’d slid it in before you left for the game on the chance Nate finally got his hat trick tonight. You hadn’t wanted to drink warm champagne if that was the case and now, holding the cold bottle of champagne and two flutes, you knew you had made the right decision betting on your boyfriend tonight. He rounded the corner into the kitchen a few moments later, game day suit still on, jacket and tie lost back in your shared bedroom.

“Glad you got yourself what you wanted for Christmas, Nate,” you smiled teasingly at him as you started to fuss with the gold foil over the champagne cork. 

“Before you pop that,” he told you, reaching a hand out to place over yours as you worked on the foil covering the cork, “I, um, I have something for you.” 

“Nate, it’s December twenty-third,” you sighed, setting the bottle down on the cool stone counter. “Can’t it wait a couple of days?” 

Nate smiled softly at you, a smile that seemed to mean he knew more than you in this exact moment, “I’ve actually been holding on to this gift for a long time and I think tonight is the perfect night to give it to you. Are you okay if I blow up Christmas a little bit?” 

You sighed again and gave Nate a stern look up and down, but the softness in his blue eyes and the innocence in his lazy smile pulled you in and had you nodding in approval. Your nod caused nerves to dance in Nate’s eyes and his hands to slide into his pockets, fidgeting with their contents. He shifted softly from one foot to the other. His eyes dropped to the floor for a moment to watch his feet move before he slowly lifted his head back up in time with a bounce on his heels. 

“Okay, here we go,” he mumbled softly to himself. 

He cleared his throat before speaking, “I told you I don’t know what I want for Christmas. Hell, I told you that I didn’t know what I wanted for my birthday and that was back in September. The truth is I’ve known what I’ve actually wanted the whole time. The hat trick was nice and all, but it wasn’t really what I wanted.”

“Whatever it is, you could’ve told me,” you chided him a little. 

Your words were met with an anxious smile and more shuffling of his feet across the floor. He shook his head softly and let out a tight breath before continuing. 

“The only thing I want for Christmas is something you can give me, but you can get it for me,” he told you softly, his voice shaking as he spoke, the nerves in his eyes and his feet and his hands tightening and constricting his voice resonating in his chest. 

Nate slowly pulled a hand out of his pocket before purposefully, and painstakingly slowly, dropping down on one knee in front of you. Your hands flew over your mouth on instinct and your eyes clouded over instantly. Nate smiled softly at your reaction, trying desperately not to let what he hoped your actions meant take over and make him too hopeful of your answer to his question to prevent him from asking it. He carefully opened the small black box in his hand to show you your early Christmas present, a beautiful ring nestled among the black velvet inside. 

“For Christmas, I’d like for you to say you’ll be my wife,” he continued slowly and as steadily as he could. “The thing I’m most proud of, of everything I’ve ever done, is being your partner. I love you so much more than I say, but I hope I show it enough that you want to sign up for me forever because it’s just you. It’s just you forever, for every single day, every single holiday, every single moment. I want to spend every single Christmas for the rest of my life with you. So, what do you say? Will you be my wife? Will you make my Christmas wish come true?” 

The cliches hung thick in his words, but the emotions behind them, the sentiment was so true you could feel it in the very core of who you were. Nathan MacKinnon saw you, faults and gifts and everything in between and loved you in the steadiest, most true way you had ever known. In the light of the Christmas tree, in the home you built together, with the life you build together palatable around you, Nate was asking you to build the rest of it together. You didn’t have to think about your answer. 

“Yes, Nate. Yes, I’ll marry you.” 

Nerves gave way to relief which even more quickly gave way to joy on Nate’s face as he slowly slid the ring he’d had tucked in the back drawer for months onto your finger where it belonged. Nate let out a long breath at the sight of it finally on your hand before slowly standing up in front of you, his hands reaching out to cup your face gingerly. 

“Best early Christmas present ever,” you told him with a wide smile on your face. 

He smiled back just as widely and happily as you grinned at him, “Merry Christmas, my future wife.”

[rphelperblog]

Crave Quote Rp Meme

“He turns me inside out with a look, destroys me with a kiss.”

“I can see something in his eyes. Something powerful and terrible and all-consuming.”

“Everyone answers to me…eventually.”

“There’s not much to be afraid of when you’ve already lost everything that matters.”

“Sometimes life hands you more than a new hand of cards to play—it hands you a whole new deck, maybe even a whole new game.”

“Deep down, I am not different from you. I dreamed you, I wished for your existence.”

“It tugs at something deep inside me, makes me wonder, when I never wonder. Makes me want, when I never want.”

“There are a thousand ways to get somewhere, but not all ways are the correct one.”

“If You Can’t  Live Without Me,  Why Aren’t You  Dead Yet?”

“I want him to look at me like it physically hurts him not to be touching me.”

“It’s written all over his face—he would disintegrate anyone—everyone—if it means saving me. He would literally set fire to the world.”

“Actions have consequences. Mistakes get made. Hearts get broken.”

“If You’re Not Living on the Edge, You’re Taking Up Too Much Space”

“I said it would be better if we weren’t friends, not that I didn’t want to be.”

“We needed each other. We were both in pain, and we filled an emptiness we didn’t know how to fill on our own.”

“Have you ever wanted something so much that you were afraid to take it?Like it’s right there, waiting for you to just reach out and grab it, but you’re so terrified of what will happen when you lose it that you never make the reach?”

“Landing Is Just Throwing  Yourself at the Ground and  Hoping You Don’t Miss

“Indescribable. Unfathomable. Delicious.”

“This girl looks mischievous, like she knows she’s up way past her bedtime, but she just can’t put the story down.”

“Not when the last time he was happy, he was plotting a hostile takeover of half the paranormal world.”

“You wound me. It was at least three-quarters.”

“… falling over the edge of the world together.”

“Always, baby. Whatever you need.”

“But now, as I stand here, surrounded by the people I love most in the world, I finally understand what it means to rule with compassion. With dignity. With love.”

“Talking to your best friend about the worst thing that ever happened to you in excruciating. Talking to a stranger who doesn’t have any kind of vested interest…sometimes it doesn’t hurt so much.”

“Some Days Life’s a Bowl of Cherries; Some Days It’s Just the Pits.”

“There’s not much to be afraid of when you’ve already lost everything that matters”

“I’ve read everything on my Kindle,”

“It is time to go home, my love.”

“You wear reckless like French women wear lipstick. Subtle some days, red hot on other, but always, always, always essential.”

“And the villain fades away into obscurity, never to be seen or heard from again…”

“A Tempest rising, without fail.”

“The vampire hat is a really nice touch.”

“I’ve got better things to do than waste my time on a guy who thinks he’s God’s gift to everyone.”

“We’re all breakable, my boy. Part of being alive.”

“He’s got the manners of a rabid polar bear”

“Words absolutely no normal person has ever wanted to hear,”

“I thought a stake through the heart is what killed vampires, not—”

“I Like Standing on  My Own Two Feet, but  Getting Swept Off Them Feels  Surprisingly Good, Too”

“You’re more than you think you are,”

“But being able to fool people into thinking you have character isn’t the same as actually having character.”

“When exactly did I become the heroine in some YA romance? The new girl swooning over the hottest, most unattainable boy in school? Gross. And so not happening.”

“I’m beginning to feel like I’ve fallen into Mean Girls, Alaska version or something.”

“There’s a part of me that can’t imagine what world he’s talking about, considering I’m currently living in the middle of a fantasy novel.”

“Biggest fear: Ending up alone because I’ll always love the wrong person. Is that too deep? How about “the ocean.” We have no idea what’s down there. I don’t trust that shit.”

“When I hit on you, it’ll be because you want me to. And we’ll both know exactly what’s going on when I do. “

“Books are fascinating and fun.”

“it would, which, in my mind, proves the theory that you hold on until the other person pulls away because you never know what they’re going through and if they need the comfort.”

“Nothing to do but admit that—obnoxious smirk or not—this boy is sexy af. A little wicked, a lot wild, and all dangerous.”

[theveryinsignificantpotato]

hello!! may a request an alastor x reader where the reader is charlie’s older sister?!

I am sorry this took a weirdly long time, I had to rewrite it literally four separate times before I had a semi-solid idea for a plot, and this is where it got me

I do sincerely hope you like it!

The Magne Match Maker

She was lucifer's oldest and most powerful daughter, holding a reputation for being a high energy leader who didn't take any shit, and often stirred fear in the hearts of those around her. Everyone in hell knew who she was, Alastor alone had read about her in papers, seen her in paintings and portraits with her family, and even caught a glimpse of her on the picture show once or twice in passing. He found himself knowing of both her and her reputation when they met, so the shock wasn't from her personality or anything of substance - he just hadn't anticipated how much prettier she was in person.

Despite her initial skepticism with his relations to her sister's dreams, she never shunned him, but rather allowed him closer in an attempt to grasp any hidden intentions he had. She allowed him to talk and dance and joke with her like he did with everyone else that allowed him to, and he found that she herself was brilliantly funny, charismatic, and quite the dancing partner, she was bold and fun and all around gorgeous - and Alastor would never admit just how quickly she had him wrapped around her little finger.

Charlie watched it all go down too, from the moment her sister arrived at the hotel she had a premonition about those two, and as the weeks passed their chemistry became more and more undeniable. Her sister, who was usually stubborn and quick witted, seemed to turn to putty in Alastor's hands every time he swept her into a dance, she'd blush and lean into his grip, and has a smile that just wouldn't leave regardless of how much she tried to force any other expression into its place. Alastor himself even seemed hesitant any time he had to remove the demon from his gaze and found that his face flushes against his will any time she'd laugh at his jokes.

This went on for months, both parties infatuated with the other while doing nothing to officialize any sort of relationship.

Charlie had to do something

While y/n had accepted the idea, Alastor was thrilled at the principal of a ball! So many bodies crammed in one room in the midst of an event would surely result in some delicious chaos, and even if there wasn't any, perhaps he could treat himself to a dance with the queen-to-be! 

Said demon herself was more excited at the ability to use the event as an excuse to go dress shopping with her little sister (dad had her off on business so often it seemed she never got to see Charlie anymore) it had been a long time since she'd been to a formal event and who better to consult than her! The Magne sisters would surely rule the event with their outfits.

Boy did they, Alastor was stunned when he saw y/n, who entered with Vaggie and Charlie, the three of them were talking and at one point when y/n threw her head back in laughter his long-dead heart seemed to leap back to life. He had never meant to stare, of course, she just completely caught him off guard with her striking appearance. Both Magne sisters wore dresses in the same style with skirts that met the floor with a gold trim, charlie's was primarily black and pink - like her typical outfit, and her sister was wrapped up in her own favorite colors, golden fabric trimming both dresses. He himself was quite dressed up, an old fashioned suit adorning his thin frame (red suited him best, he thought), his bowtie was replaced with a hand-tied bow, and a silken vest showed slightly beneath his coat. Her eyes finally met his after a few moments, and he reveled in the way her cheeks instantly flushed upon seeing him. It wasn't long then, before he approached her for a dance, earning an excited squee from Charlie. 

"You are gorgeous as always Ms. Magne, I would be eternally grateful if you'd grant me a dance." He asked sweetly, taking her hand and bowing to press a kiss to her knuckles

Her face flushes even more and she looks to Charlie who nearly shoves her sister into his arms in reply. He is barely fazed, only moving to ensure she was steady before returning to his previous position, "I'd be honored to" she says finally, her words barely leaving her mouth in a breath.

His smile widens and he immediately begins guiding her to the floor where many couples were already moving to a jovial rhythm, proudly showing her off to those who saw, as if staking claim to her right then and there. As usual, she was a wonderful dancer, and he adored every second he had with her in his arms, twirling and spinning her in time with their fellow dancers, even she seemed to be having a blast. He was so caught up in the moment that he barely noticed when the music slowed to the next song and she ended up curled up into his arms with her head to his chest. His left hand gripped her right one gently, and his other hand was held softly to her waist as he led her between the other dancers.

"You have a heartbeat." She observes in a soft voice

“That I do." He hums in a jovial tone, sending a delightful chill down her spine

"My father and mother don't, I have just never heard one before…" she says softly, and her face flushes slightly once again, "I don't know why I brought that up, I was just thinking and I guess I started talking."

He shook his head “Nonsense, I’d love to know whats going on in that pretty little head of yours,” He hummed continuing their soft sway across the floor, “Many people find the sound of a heartbeat to be relaxing, while I have met others who rejected the idea of a demon with a pulse, I’m curious of what your opinion is.” He continued the topic, hoping to keep her talking

“I like it.” she says contently, “I think I could always listen to it.”

Now it was his turn to feel blood rush to his cheeks, and he was silently thankful that she couldn't see his darkened flesh from her angle against his chest

"It's funny how much I disliked you when we first met," she continued, "I'll admit, Charlie is the only reason I let you stick around at all - and it seems that it's because of her that I'm here with you now." 

He hummed, "She is quite persistent regarding you and I, isn't she?" He muses, his eyes shining with amusement when she finally picked her head up to see him 

"Quite," she says, mirth decorating her features, Charlie was naturally very excitable, but her biggest downfall was her inability to be discreet - she didn't know just how much her proclaimed OTP knew of her set up, and the two of them got quite the kick out of watching it all unfold. "You don't have to listen to her ramblings, mister, I don't wanna hear you complain!" She said with a laugh

"Who said I was complaining? Your sister is quite entertaining, her little matchmaker game is one of the highlights of my days at the hotel!" He replies, "And you, Ma petite chou, play quite the role in that, too. Your smile shines brighter than the sun ever dreamed!" 

She makes a face, unable to hide her light blush at his compliments, "I've never seen the sun, Al- and did you just call me a little cabbage?" 

He laughs, "It's a term of endearment, chér, the french use it to relate the subject to something small, round, and cute, which you my darling, are." He flirts, that familiar sparkle of amusement manifesting in his eyes once more, "and why have the sun when you exist in this world?" 

She rolls her eyes, her cheeks still burning slightly, "Why do you say such things to me? Charlie cannot hear, so there is hardly any cause for you to continue this game."

He seemed confused for a moment, "game? Oh darling, you wound me with your accusation. I may be a demon, but I am a man of my word, and though I admit I have a flair for the dramatic, none of my actions toward you have been anything short of genuine." He confesses, and the look on her face was one of complete shock.

Then in the most amazing twist, an excited smile graced her features

"So you're saying that Charlie is absolutely correct about us and after all of it, you really do like me, and I am the most oblivious being on this plane just like she said." 

He blinked, "now I'm not-"

She rolled her eyes again, shaking her head, "shut up and kiss me, you silly cabbage." 

He laughed then, humming "as you wish, mon drôle de petit chou" before spinning her about and pressing a sweet kiss to her lips

Before she could even process the situation she was in, she heard her sister squeal in delight at the sight of her parallel to the floor in the radio demon's arms, and she couldn't help the excited smile into Alastor's own at the sound.