#but yeah. i think my issue with wicked is i tried to read the books first because that’s always my approach. if there is a book i’ll read it

[fingertipsmp3]

Yes I like musicals yes I was kind of a theatre kid back in the day no I don’t particularly care about Wicked one way or the other. We exist

[shyvioletcat]

Rowaelin Month Day 2: Idiots in Love

When I think of idiots in loveI really do think of this au. And the idiocy really comes out in this. If you remember that fic idea I floated about not writing but then decided to write anyway *wink* it’s this one. CW: smut

~~~~~

Rowan reclined in Aelin’s bed, reading over the latest email Fenrys had sent him. His newest book was days away from being on the shelves and that meant the promotional bullshit was about to pick up in a big way. First and foremost was the book tour Rowan was leaving for in three days. There was a list full of times, flights and locations Rowan needed to be aware of. He’d handed over all the social media stuff for pre-release, knowing it was essential for good sales and all that, but besides a few prerecorded reels Rowan wasn’t a keen participant. Book tours were another beast entirely, in person he’d have no choice but to interact. It would be all kinds of exhausting.

For a good few months he would be touring cities across continents, talking about and signing his books. It was starting locally but then he’d be flying to Rifthold, then over to Wendlyn. He had never liked the public side of things, but for the sake of his success he suffered through it. Conventions had been fine because it usually came with a few rounds of verbal sparring with Aelin—which was always a highlight. The travel and time away had always been a non-issue, Rowan had never been overly attached to one place. Because previously he’d been single and unhappy, and the change in scenery had offered him mild excitement. This time was different. This time he was leaving Aelin behind.

Aelin had her own schedule to keep. She was in the thick of writing her next novel and her turn-in deadline was approaching. The best she could do was visit him for a weekend here and there. Other than that they were spending most of the next three months apart. Rowan hated that, he was so in love with her, and borderline obsessed in the most healthy way. Even a few days away from her was hard as it is. The prospect of it being months was torture.

The source of his travelling anguish appeared in the doorway, hands behind her back and a scheming look on her face. Aelin was dressed in one of his shirts, her new favourite attire, but he noted that she’d done her hair and makeup. Odd, because they had no plans on going out today. She already had a collection of shirts in her drawers but always seemed to take another when she visited his townhouse. Rowan might have to buy more before he left on his trip because he didn’t like his chances of getting them back.

“What are you up to?” He asked, discarding his phone on the bed.

Aelin’s smile turned a little more wicked and she took a step into her bedroom, rocking playfully on her feet. “I’ve had an idea.”

”Yeah?” Rowan asked cautiously. There was something afoot here, and he had no idea what it was.

“I’ll miss you while you’re gone.” Another step. “I think I’ve found something to ease the pain of it.”

Rowan hesitated as he tried to figure out what it might be—he came up blank. “How so?”

Biting her lip Aelin presented her prize from behind her back. It was a cylinder and Rowan tilted his head to read the writing along the label. His stomach dropped when the words registered in his brain.

Clone-a-Willy.

“No.” The protest came out immediately.

Aelin’s face fell in disappointment. “Why not?”

“I am not putting my—” the thought was abhorrent. “I’m not putting myself in that.”

“You don’t even know how it works,” Aelin whined, sitting on the foot of the bed.

“I don’t need to know, I can guess and it can’t be good,” Rowan said.

Aelin sighed, rolling the abomination over her palms. “Come on, Rowan. I read a bunch of reviews and it doesn’t seem that bad. Please, for me. It’ll be fun.”

“I’m still very sceptical and not willing,” Rowan hedged.

His ever persistent girlfriend only sighed, yanked the lid off the tube with a pop, and tipped contents out onto the bed. There were two tubs of something—one bright green—a thing that looked like a tube of lipstick, a thermometer, a small wooden stick and some kind of cloth. Aelin picked up the folded booklet which was no doubt the instructions, glancing through them before handing them over.

“See, nothing to it,” she assured him.

Shooting her a disbelieving glare he took the instructions and started reading. Aelin might be confident, but Rowan was not. With each line he read that little scrap of confidence hidden somewhere inside him dissipated a little more.

Measure and cut the tube, mix the mould solution, stick penis into the tube, wait at least two minutes before removing.

“Aelin—”

“I’m begging you, Rowan,” Aelin interrupted, giving him her best doe-eyed expression. “I promise to make your cooperation worthwhile.”

He looked at his girlfriend’s face and the myriad of sinful things she promised there. Two minutes. He would suffer for two minutes and then who knew what his rewards might be. Rowan was considering it, and Aelin was quick to swoop in when she saw him wavering.

“It’ll be fun,” she said cheerfully, then rectified when he shot her a look full of doubt. “I mean, it’ll be something fun for me. Keep you in my thoughts while you’re away.”

Rowan scoffed. “When you put it that way.”

Aelin patted his arm. “Just remember, lots of rewards for you.”

She played dirty, climbing over him, encouraging him to lie back and kissing him. It was a heady and dirty kind of kiss, full of salacious promises. She pressed her body against him, grinding on his lap while her tongue flicked at the inside of his mouth. Rowan was already half hard when she pulled back.

“Please,” she whispered, kissing him again.

Rowan’s hands were tight on her hips, his head dropping back as he groaned. He always found it so hard to deny her. “Fine.”

Aelin sat up, squealing as she clapped her hands in utter delight. A moment later she was off him and dashing out the bedroom door. He heard the thudding of footsteps and a cupboard opening, and then Aelin was back, a towel and a bowl in her hands.

“First reward you get right now.”

Rowan was about to ask what it was when Aelin simply grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over her head. Underneath she wore a golden lacy lingerie set.

“This wasn’t a spur of the moment thing, then?” Rowan said, eyes roving, taking in every detail. “And you knew I’d say yes.”

“When do you ever say no?” Aelin stated matter of factly, adding her new supplies to the pile and kneeling on the bed. “All right loverboy, clothes off.”

Arguing would get him nowhere, so he did as he was commanded. Shirt first, and then his sweatpants. When he was done, Aelin threw the towel over to him.

“Put this under you, don’t want to ruin my bedding,” she explained. “That one is covered in bleach stains, I don’t mind the sacrifice.”

Aelin picked up the instructions again, and while she read Rowan took the opportunity to enjoy the view. The rich gold of the set was a lovely contrast against the sun kissed tan of her skin. The briefs sat high on her hips, all lace except for a satin panel at the front. The bra had two thin decorative straps that ran over the top of her cleavage, meeting in the middle. It was longer and covered more of her torso than some of her other pieces, but it was just as sexy. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her—or his lips. The best he could do right now was resting a hand on her thigh, drawing idle patterns while she concentrated. When she shivered it took a lot of restraint not to take it further up her thigh.

“Step one, we need to trim the tube,” Aelin declared.

“Please tell me that’s not a euphemism,” Rowan muttered, rubbing a hand over his face and those nerves started to return.

Aelin snorted, but then picked up the clear tube that everything in the kit had come in. “No, we need to make sure this is the right size and you need to be hard. Do you want to do the honours, or shall I?”

Never one to miss the opportunity to have his girlfriend’s hands on him, Rowan chose the latter. “You.”

The makeout and seeing Aelin in her new get up still had him half hard. It wouldn’t take much for him to get all the way there. Aelin smiled, crawling back over him. Her hands tickled up his thighs, not deterring from their goal though. Rowan held his breath as her hand closed around him, pumping slowly. Aelin’s tits looked amazing from this angle, hanging heavy against the lace. Unable to keep from touching her, Rowan’s hand made its own journey, starting at her ass, heavy with enough pressure to have her body bowing closer to him. His fingers threaded in her loose hair, urging her down for a kiss. All the while she kept pumping him, his cock thickening with every pass.

“Feels so fucking good,” Rowan groaned.

“You there?” Aelin whispered onto his lips.

When Rowan nodded she was gone a second later, that godsdamned instructions back in her hand. Then she picked up the tube and a marker and held it next to his hard cock. Marking a line she then cut it with a pair of scissors that game from gods knew where. She really had come prepared. Aelin nodded at her handiwork and smiled to herself. Then she was up, ready to take on the next step.

“Time for the mould that I’ll mix in the bathroom. And put this on.” This time it was a little tub that Aelin threw at him, beige with a blue lid. “It will stop any hair getting, ah… caught.”

“What?” Rowan spluttered, but Aelin was already gone.

She was headed into the bathroom, bowl and a few pieces from the kit in hand, and that gave Rowan a chance to admire the outfit from behind. Turns out it wasn’t a full thong, triangles of lace hugged the curve of her ass. And he had thought it couldn’t get any better. Rowan heard the water start running and guessed he should do his part. He pulled the lid off the tub of Vaseline and smoothed a decent amount over and around his erection. Only a few minutes later Aelin was out of the bathroom, the tube full of the moulding liquid.

“Sit up and let’s do this,” she said with determined excitement.

Rowan sat up, making sure to keep the towel under him. Aelin was eager as anything as she stood in front of him. “First, this.” She rolled a rubber cock ring down the length of him. “I read that it lessens the mess.”

“Did your research, did you?” His voice was tight as Aelin played with him once she was done.

“Absolutely. These are high stakes. You ready for the fun part?” She ended her question with a squeeze.

Rowan groaned. “I think you and I have a different definition of fun.”

“Don’t be a baby, you’ve come this far,” Aelin said, hiding her amusement very poorly.

“So, what? I just stick it in?”

She nodded. “That’s what the instructions say. Ready?”

It was now or never. Aelin pumped him again, just to help him recover while they had their discussion. Rowan was feeling nervous, and to give him some resolve he looked over Aelin again, reminding himself that he just needed to last two minutes and then the real fun could begin.

Closing his eyes, Rowan bit the bullet. “Just do it.”

Any hesitancy Rowan felt, Aelin outweighed it by ten fold with her resolve. She went for it, taking his dick in her hand and angling it right before sliding him in. It was cold and slimy, and felt disgusting. But he just kept sliding in until the end of the tube met the cock ring.

“Set timer, two minutes,” Aelin said.

Opening his eyes Rowan saw her drop the phone on the bed. Aelin was smiling like she was having the best time, curious eyes watching the tube that was encasing his dick. Contemplating that had him visibly cringing.

“No! You have to stay hard or this won’t work,” Aelin said in a panic, no doubt seeing the look on his face. “What can I do?”

Rowan’s brain scrambled for a second, trying to find something. “Talk to me, touch me. The best you can anyway.”

“It’s so fucking hot you doing this for me,” Aelin said, her voice sultry, not wasting any time and cutting right to the chase. “I love your cock so much, I know it won’t be anything like the real thing though.”

It was working, but he needed more. An idea struck him and he took hold of the tube. “I got this, you get up here.”

He lay back and it took a second for Aelin to catch on to what he meant. She crawled up the bed, her knees resting above Rowan’s shoulders. As Aelin used the headboard to hover over his face, Rowan used his free hand to pull her underwear to the side, baring her sex.

“Keep talking, Aelin. Tell me what you’re going to do while I’m away and you’re here without me,” Rowan said, then he was on her.

Aelin moaned loudly as his tongue played with her clit, her hips dropping lower. That sound was enough to have his mind ignoring the discomfort around his dick, so he did it again, and again, just to hear how much Aelin loved what he was doing. Rowan hummed, and that had Aelin gasping, hips rolling over his mouth.

Pressing a chaste kiss to where she was most sensitive Rowan said, “I can’t hear you Aelin.”

“Fuck, Rowan,” she sighed. “I’ll use it every night, thinking of you.”

Rowan hummed again, encouragingly, urging her to keep going.

“I’ll think of you, how big you are,” each word was laboured, like it was a struggle to get the words out and keep her mind straight. “How perfect you feel inside me.”

“More, Aelin,” Rowan growled on her clit,

The moan of pleasure Aelin let out told Rowan she was close to breaking. Having her ride his face was utterly distracting and his sole goal now was to make her come. A beeping went off—Aelin’s phone—but there was no way he was stopping now.

“I’ll fuck myself with it,” Aelin manged through her heavy panting, her voice shaking and much as her body was. “Just like you do, so deep. It won’t feel as perfect as you, but I’ll be thinking of you every second.”

Rowan sucked, then rolled his tongue over that bundle over nerves and that was all it took. Aelin’s moan was closer to a scream, her hips undulating with each pulsing wave of her orgasm. Rowan kept up his ministrations until Aelin all but fell away from him, a panting mess on the bed beside him. Through heavy lidded eyes, she glanced at him, and a second later she was rolling over and kissing him. Aelin hummed as Rowan ran his hands over her body until her brain cleared enough that she stopped her phone beeping.

“That was certainly one way to pass the time,” she said playfully. “Should we see how our little experiment went?”

Rowan snorted, his attention redirected to the particularly uncomfortable situation he was experiencing. “I wouldn’t call it little.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Aelin replied as she straddled his thighs.

That made Rowan laugh, laying back on the bed so Aelin could get this done with and he’d be free. He’d done his part, gone along with his girlfriend’s whim and suffered through the discomfort. Now he was ready for it to be over. He felt a tug on his dick, not one that felt particularly great. Then another one. On the third the mould still wasn’t budging. Rowan raised his head a fraction and looked down to see Aelin peering at the white filled tube sticking straight up in the air.

“What?”

Aelin cleared her throat, looking no less beautiful in her get up as she bit her lip. “It’s stuck.”

Immediately Rowan reached down and gave it a tug himself. Oh fucking gods it did not move. Rowan’s heart was pounding and he was sweating. This was not happening.

“This was a stupid idea,” Rowan said. He twisted the mould but the only thing he succeeded in was hurting himself. “Did we leave it on for too long?”

“You’re fine, you big baby.” Aelin was trying to play it off but he could still hear the slight nervousness to her tone.

“You should have got a bigger size,” Rowan all but groaned.

There was an ill disguised snort from Aelin. “This was the biggest size.”

Despair was taking him. This was what hell was like.

Meanwhile, Aelin was trying again, and his dick—the stupid appendage that it was—couldn’t figure out that this was not the time to be getting turned on by her touch. It didn’t help that she looked like a literal goddess kneeling over him.

“Stop touching it, you’re making it worse!”

This time Aelin outright laughed. “I never thought I’d hear those words.”

Rowan rubbed his hands over his face. “Aelin, please. I was doing this for you and now neither of us will have my dick.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Aelin said, and for some unknown reason thought it was a good idea to rub a soothing hand over his stomach. His traitorous dick twitched in response, the weight of the godsdamned mould a strange sensation.

“You’ve ruined it, it’s useless,” Rowan bemoaned.

“I stand by my previous statement,” Aelin said. When Rowan raised his head up enough to shoot her a baleful glare she lifted her hands in surrender. “I’ll leave you, I can see my presence is not helping.”

Rowan closed his eyes and felt the bed dip as Aelin left. With the reason for his current predicament gone, Rowan turned his thoughts to the unsexiest things he could conjure up. Getting stuck in traffic, the smell of overripe bananas, that time Lorcan got an infection in his big toenail. Rowan pictured all those things and tried to keep his breathing calm. He needed the adrenaline rush to wear off, not just from his panic but from giving Aelin head. That was the wrong thought to stray to, now Rowan had to think of even more gross things.

It took a while but his heart beat started to slow and he wasn’t sweating anymore. Rowan had never felt such immense relief when he felt the weight of the plaster filled tube dip as his dick finally decided to syphon off some of the blood flow. As soon as it fully landed on his stomach Rowan went to pull it off. There was some residence, but with some slight twisting he was free.

“Thank you Mala,” Rowan sighed in relief.

Curiosity got the better of him and he looked inside. He couldn’t particularly see much except a dick shaped hole. The temptation to throw it across the room was strong, just for the spite of it. Rowan really had seen his life flash before his eyes.

“Still in one piece, I see.”

Aelin had appeared in the doorway, her gold clad body leaning on the frame, like nothing had gone amiss.

“You owe me,” Rowan said, dropping the cloning mould on the bed. He’d be happy to never see it again.

With a grin Aelin retrieved it. “We’re established that. Go have a shower and I’ll finish this off.”

Rowan wasn’t going to argue with that. He left Aelin to do whatever the next heinous step was and went into the ensuite. This shower was much nicer than his and the taps rotated so much smoother. It wasn’t long before he found the perfect temperature and stepped under, letting the pounding water pressure Aelin was so proud of wash away any remnants feelings of his discomfort.

The shower did him good—Rowan cooled down in more ways than one. After getting over the shock of getting his dick stuck in a plastic tube he could see the merit in Aelin’s plan, for her at least. He’d be gone for months and she would be alone while she wrote. It was unlikely that they would get much time to see each other in person. It would be phone calls and video chats. Rowan wouldn’t be touching her body, wouldn’t be able to feel her. Gods knew it would be torture. Could he blame her for taking a more creative initiative?

Rowan turned the water off, not wanting to waste any more of the limited time he had left with Aelin before he had to leave. Dressed in nothing but a towel, he found Aelin lounging in bed, still wearing that set that had kept him hard through his ordeal. All evidence of the cloning fiasco was gone, something he was very glad of. Aelin looked stunning, that self satisfied smirk only enhancing her already beautiful face. She was a menace, but she was his menace.

Already Rowan’s body was reacting, he could feel the fabric of the towel brushing against his cock as it hardened. It took a moment for Aelin to notice him, her eyes drinking in the expanse of his bare chest.

She sat up, leaning on one hand so her golden hair cascading over her shoulder. “Am I forgiven yet?”

Rowan untucked the towel and let it fall away, watching as Aelin’s eyes flared with desire. He crawled over to her, Aelin drifting towards the bed as crept up her body. She was waiting for him to take what he needed, so patient even though Rowan knew she wanted this just as much as he did.

“I have a feeling I will be,” Rowan said, voice low and he loved seeing the way his words made Aelin shiver.

In the end, Rowan decided that he had suffered enough today and he wasn’t going to prolong it any further. His hand started on Aelin’s neck, then traced a path lower, covering her breast before it tightened there. Aelin’s mouth opened on a silent moan, her body arching towards him. Rowan dropped his mouth to her other breast, teasing her through the fabric. Aelin sighed, her hands tight in his hair.

Any other time Rowan might have drawn this out—played Aelin’s body perfectly until she was sighing his name over and over again. But today, Rowan found he didn’t have the patience. He reached under Aelin’s body and unclasped her bra, then he was helping her out of his underwear.

“Roll over for me, Aelin,” he said onto the skin right over her heart.

With a coy smile, Aelin did as he requested. Rowan ran a hand down the length of her back, and then up, brushing golden tresses out of the way. Then he lent over Aelin's body, kissing her shoulder and neck, teeth grazing as he went.

“Are you ready for me?”

Aelin nodded but Rowan decided to investigate for himself. Dragging his hand between her body and the sheets, he touched his way down until his thumb brushed over Aelin’s clit. She moaned, her hands fisting in the sheets. Just going a little bit lower Rowan found the evidence he sought.

“You are. Aren’t you,” Rowan growled, a finger dipping inside. “So wet, so ready to take me.”

“Oh, fuck. Rowan.” Aelin all but moaned his name. “Yes, gods yes.”

Just for a few indulgent moments Rowan teased, easing in out, applying pressure to places that had Aelin gasping. His cock twitched with every sound, getting almost painfully hard. That didn't seem fair after everything Rowan had been through in the last half hour, and Aelin seemed to think so too. She reached under the pillow in front of her and held up the condom between two fingers.

No hesitation and it was only moments before Rowan was ready and lining himself up. Aelin was eager, bracing herself on her elbows and pressing back.

“Come on, Rowan. I know you want to,” Aelin taunted, her voice husky, betraying how far gone she was.

“Anything for you,” Rowan promised and slid in.

Their moans filled the room as Rowan sank as far as he could go. He had one on her hip and the other was at the base of Aelin’s neck, tangling in her hair. After that it was too easy to fall into the rhythm that he knew would have them desperate for release. With each flex of his hips he could feel Aelin coiling tighter and tighter, every moan sharp and wanton. Rowan wasn’t quiet either, groaning as he felt her inner wall flutter around him, begging him for more. And Rowan gave it, he kept going until Aelin was screaming his name, her body going taught before she came, her hips dragging her over his cock relentlessly enough that it had him following right after.

Aelin went limp once they stilled, falling to the mattress completely when Rowan pulled out. He dealt with the condom and was back moments later, pulling Aelin into his arms. She sighed as she settled on his chest and Rowan kissed her head.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said sadly. “My home will be lonely without you.”

Rowan was quiet for a moment, a thought weaving through his mind. He was hesitant to voice it, but the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense.

“What if it doesn’t have to be?”

Aelin propped herself up so she could look at him, expression confused. “What?”

“What I mean is,” Rowan reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind Aelin’s ear. “How about when I get back, I move in.”

“You mean it?” Aelin asked, eyes bright.

“I mean yeah, unless you want to move into my place,” Rowan shrugged.

Aelin lent her cheek on his chest, her smile beaming up at him. “Nah, my place is better. But you can definitely bring your library ladder though.”

Rowan laughed and lent down to kiss his wickedly funny girlfriend. She met him halfway, her hand cradling his cheek.

“If we learnt anything from today,” Rowan said, pulling back just enough so their lips still brushed. “Your wish is my command.”

~~~~~

I laughed so hard reading this one. Thanks for reading!

Tagging @rowaelinscourt

[ritz-writes]

Get to know me tag game! I was tagged by @celestialcrowley

It's a long post so I'll put a cut here <3

Real Name: [REDACTED]

Nickname(s): [REDACTED]

Nickname Origin(s): [REDACTED]

Sorry, I'm not giving out my irl name </3

Preferred Name(s): Call me Ritz!

Ao3: RitzWrites

Social Media(s): I have a Facebook, TikTok, Instagram, Pillowfort, Twitter. The only ones under Ritz tho are ao3, Twitter, pillowfort, and insta, tho I never use the insta.

State: Won't say the state I currently live in (tho i mightve mentioned it in a post somewhere probably) but I grew up in Texas

Birthdate: May 28

Pet(s): Currently have 7 cats and 1 dog in my house. One cat is specifically mine

Hobbies: Writing, reading, drawing, watching youtube, screaming about my fandoms

Personality: I'm the sunshine character, but I swear a lot. Also if you wrong my friends I feel it personally and will be very angy. I'm very open minded and won't make an opinion on smth until I get all the facts. I want to be friends with everyone but the gods nerfed me with social anxiety ;w;

Favorite Holiday(s): Christmas has always been special to me and give me Nice emotions. Halloween is also good tho.

Favorite Drink(s): Kiddo me would have an aneurysm when she finds out I like vanilla lattes. She swore up and down she'd never like coffee lmao. I also love strawberry milk and sprite.

Favorite Food(s): Pizza, donuts, sirloin, airheads candy, beef stroganoff

Favorite Dessert(s): Cookies and cream ice cream, cookies, brownies

Favorite Color(s): Pink!! I tried changing it when I was younger cuz I didn't want to be the stereotypical girl," but I've always loved pink. Gold is also nice, as well as pastel colors in general.

Favorite Quote(s): "New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings," -Lao Tzu

Favorite Book(s): The Enhanced series by T.C. Edge (I haven't finished reading it tho)

Favorite TV Show(s): Good Omens, Lego Monkie Kid, 2003 Ninja Turtles, Transformers Prime, Batman The Animated Series

Favorite Movie(s): Ocean's 8, Black Panther, The Martian, John Wick

Favorite Character(s): Crowley, Aziraphale, Muriel, MK, Wukong, Macaque, Tang, Jason Todd, Peter Parker, Tony Stark

Favorite Actor(s): David Tennant, Michael Sheen, Tom Holland, Zendaya, Robert Downey Jr.

Favorite Song(s): There's so many, but I'll list a few. Last One Standing by Icon for Hire. Ohio by Bowling for Soup. Rich and the Famous by Good Charlotte. and literally anything by set it off cuz they r my fav band

Favorite Music Genre(s): Pop Punk. Or what some ppl r now calling divorced dad rock

Favorite Podcast(s): I haven't listened to it in a hot minute, but My Brother My Brother and Me

Have You Ever Met A Celebrity: I met some YouTubers at a convention once, but I don't watch the channel anymore

Have You Ever Been To A Concert: Yeah. To see Fall Out Boy. It was outside and I had no water. Was fun tho

Do You Collect Anything: Braincells. I keep losing them tho (no I dont collect anything)

Do You Have Any Idols: Uhhhh I'm not sure. I have ppl I think are cool? I guess you could say my mom is my idol?

Is There A Real Life Friend You Can Completely Be Yourself With: My partner @novelcain <33

What Are Your Interests: Anything I end up hyperfixating on. So right now its Good Omens. Once s5 of Lego Monkie Kid comes out tho, I know that's where my brain will be. I also love graphic design, but I haven't been able to do it in ages.

Where Would You Love To Travel To: Maybe Scotland? Or Italy? I wanna go to Japan some day too.

Is There A Random Fact About Yourself That You’d Like To Share: I have binocular double vision, which means I see two things :) My glasses help a bit with that issue

tags: anyone who wants to do it

[catsnuggler]

Technically, they say "Israelite". The Book of Mormon starts off with the family of an aging "Israelite" man named Lehi. They're from Israel, they follow an Abrahamic faith that is based, not only on oral traditions, but on written records (specifically inscribed plates of the "Old Testament", or the Talmud), so while they aren't called Jews, it's pretty obvious from reading it that they're Jewish. Keywords: "from reading it". I'm not insulting folks who don't know about Mormonism for not knowing this; rather, I'm surprised the LDS church hasn't been sued into a million pieces over this. I guess other Christian churches would also be sued, though...

Anyway! Back to Lehi! The dude gets a prophecy that Israel is going to be invaded again, and its people put into bondage, so he's gotta make a boat to take his family across the sea. He has several sons, but the important ones are Nephi, who is A Good Boy; and Laman and Lemuel, who Rebuke God and Murmur even after they see an angel.

Lehi's family and some friends, despite Laman and Lemuel's meddling, get a boat, and set sail for the Promised Land - the Americas. They're the first people there, except not really, as some people came there before - the Jaredites, who arrived after the fall of the Tower of Babel, on submarines. Yeah. Submarines. But the Jaredites are a footnote. Anyway, after Lehi &c arrive, Laman and Lemuel sway some folks to their side and turn against God, and I think killed some folks, if I remember correctly.

Now, apparently, according to the Book of Mormon, up to this point, they had all been "white and delightsome". Yeah, sure. People who'd lived in the Palestinian desert since time immemorial, white and delightsome. White-skinned, not dark-skinned. Yup. Totally. 100% Anglo-Saxon "white and delightsome". Please note my dripping sarcasm there.

You know how God put a mark on Cain after he killed Abel, and on all his descendants, so people would know that's Cain/Cain's posterity, who are cursed, but not to be killed, lest the killers be cursed, and racists said the mark is totally Black skin, and also conveniently forgot that last part? Something like that happens here, except it is explicit; God curses Laman, Lemuel, and their followers to have dark skin. They're thenceforth known as the Lamanites and Lemuelites, but broadly generalized as the Lamanites. The followers of good white son, Nephi, are known as the Nephites.

The Lamanites proceed to be wicked, but occasionally righteous, until eventually, the Lamanites are wicked, but the Nephites even more wicked from hubris, and God curses the Nephites to be slain by the Lamanites. The last righteous Nephites escape the Lamanites long enough to document their fall, and leave their records for posterity, before being, presumably, likewise slain. The Lamanites, who survive, become the Native Americans. Keep in mind, I am telling you this from memory.

Oh. And the arrival of Christopher Columbus; the slaying of Nephi's "brethren", the "Lamanites", and their mass conversion; and the founding of the US; are "prophesied" in one of the earliest books in the Book of Mormon. I forget if it was 1st or 2nd Nephi, but those are the first two books.

The church has recently tried to walk back from Biblical Literalism, but it's only been very recent, and a lot of Mormons - most, I daresay - still believe this is literal truth. Even if it were metaphorical, it would be disgustingly racist.

I was also told, when I was young - and, folks, I am only 25 when I type this, in the year 2023 - that interracial marriage is discouraged in the LDS church. For a long time, it wasn't even allowed.

I'm glad I grew up among so many Mexicans, very few (if any) of whom were criollos; some Native Americans; and generally, around plenty of people of color, and for my Mexican family members (even if they are annoyingly conservative). It helped me see through this bullshit, along with many other glaring issues with the church. It also helps that my dad, though Mormon, is an odd duck. I didn't know many Jews growing up, sad to say. Lovely people, who deserve a lot better than they currently get.

This post was originally more or less just a vent post from a depressed Anglo (no, I'm not a British subject, I basically mean "gringo" here) American ex-Mormon, but I'm glad so many people's eyes have been opened, and for all the input from other exmos, LGBT people, allies, Indigenous people, and/or Jews on this subject.

Not enough people know the Mormons believe Native Americans are Jewish people who turned away from God and got cursed by having their skin darkened, or that Mormons literally have Manifest Destiny right there in the text, no extrapolation. I’m not Native at all, but frankly, it’s one of the most disgusting things of that faith that caused me to utterly reject it. It is a vile religion that is white supremacist to its very core.

[rodeoxqueen]

Dante, Vergil, V, and Nero With A Blind! S/O + Best Friend

((AO3 Request))

Spankyland Requested: 

“Hello RodeoQueen, I hope you are having a nice day. Can I order headcanons about Dante, Vergil, V and Nero (the latter as a friend) with a blind s / o? Something like Daredevil (?)

If the request is strange you can ignore it. Sorry if there is something misspelled, English is not my native language ^^u”

Howdy,

Please, call me Rodeo. And the request is just fine, your English is perfect. Enjoy. 

(Disclaimer: I am in full awareness that not every blind person deals with the same issues, take this request with a comedic grain of salt.)

Dante 

Hanging out at his shop is a disaster. You tap your cane against piles of beer cans and pizza boxes, tsking. 

Harmless jokes. So many harmless jokes. 

“As you can see, no pun intended-” 

“Dante, please.” 

Even though you can totally take care of yourself, he will still offer an arm to hold when crossing the streets. 

One day, Dante triggers and you tilt your head to where you think his head is. 

“My demon form makes me sound different.” He notes, his voice gravelly and low. 

“Yeah, but you look the same to me.” 

“Wait really-Oh. Oh, that was funny.” 

Dante takes you on motorcycle rides often. Although you can’t see the sights, you can feel the wind and hear the revving like a symphony as you ride fast and laugh louder. 

“Babe, is there anything you can’t do?” He flirts, seeing you spar with him. 

You suddenly pin him on the ground, your sunglasses glinting his smirking face in the reflection. 

“See?” You grin while applying pressure to his chest. 

“You got me there, sunshine.” 

Vergil 

He lets you touch his face to get a mental map. He notices you can’t stop smiling when his eyebrows cross slightly and your fingers trace the bump of his brow. 

Vergil does his best to make sure everything is where you always put it to prevent confusion. 

A common issue of being blind is people being condescending. Vergil will never let that happen. Not on his watch. 

As you can fight, he duels you accordingly. The whistle of the Yamato’s blade against the air is heard loud and clear next to your ear, as you place your hands upon the forged steel. In your close proximity and the blade trapped in your hold, Vergil’s stance hesitates just the slightest. You sense the opportunity and Vergil is swept off his feet with a clean swipe of your leg. 

“You depend too much on your sword.” You tease as you take your cane from where you put it against a wall. Vergil chuckles. 

Vergil gets his favorite poetry book in Braille form, so you can read it too. 

V 

You match when it comes to canes. 

V learns how to read Braille and makes it a habit to read out loud to you. 

Shadow will get things for you so you don’t have to. She’s a natural at it. 

One time someone tried to mug you and V in the dark of night. Of course, you were the most advantageous in this situation. V hands you his own cane as you give him your more fragile one. Before he can even say William Blake, you’ve knocked the knife out of the mugger’s hands and broken his knee. 

He’s always admiring you, seeing how your hands examine everything and you can memorize a room to your mind’s eye. 

V notices you can’t always tell when to stop pouring a cup of tea as you can’t see when it’s full. 

“Tell me when to stop pouring.” 

“Stop.” 

V squints as you continue to pour until the tea cascades off the cup. You turn your head, a wicked smile on your face. 

“You’re being coy, aren’t you?” 

“Of course I am.”  

Nero

“Hey, even if you’re blind, you’d be a better driver than Nico.” The offended cowgirl throws a wrench at him, which he ducks, leaving you open for injury. However, you catch the wrench without flinching, tossing it back to the general proximity from whence it came. 

Matching clout goggles. Enough said. 

He plays Braille Uno and Monopoly with you. He can’t play Poker with you because you can sense his leg shaking when the cards are in his favor. 

“You’re thinking of Kyrie.” 

“What?”

“I can hear you scratching your nose again.” 

If you’re in the mood to fight, he always has an open slot for you in his sparring sessions. 

“The Nero feels conflicted about fighting a good blind friend.” 

“I’ll kick your ass for that great Avatar reference.” 

“The Nero is now over his conflicted feelings-” 

He stops mid-sentence as you grapple him and make him tap out. Unseeing eyes shine with mirth as you help him up. 

[i-only-know-fandoms]

Descendants Royal Wedding and why it wasn’t as good as you think

I���m seeing a lot about how great Descendants Royal Wedding was and it’s just.... not? It actually upset me a lot so can I lay it out for you?

Elephant in the room is sweet, sweet Carlos and sweet, sweet Cameron, our Angel. No way of doing this without his would have been easy (Honestly it wasn’t needed but I was excited for new content until it got closer and the end is very revealing as to why they did this). But they championed they were honoring him, but not in way they should be patting themselves on the back for like they are. It was sweet, don’t get me wrong! Let me explain.

They imply Carlos is dead (I’ll get into my problem with that later) (also I refuse). They never outright say it but that’s the closest we get to an explanation so.... But they have the “I wish Carlos was here scene” and then his charm on Mal’s bracelet glows at the end, which is something, but not as big and grand as they made it seem like they were. Beyond those moments he is never mentioned. Ever. It’s like he doesn’t exist except for their mini memorial so they can say they honored Cameron. 

“Well what would you have them do?”

Well first off, not kill of Carlos. That’s not honoring Cameron at all.

“You’d have them replace Cameron!?!”

Absolutely not. At the very least Disney hasn’t tried to do that (what they are doing with how the short ending is Not Good though. Please be patient, I will get to that)

“What would have them do? Have some half assed excuse to why he’s not there?”

I mean, it wouldn’t have been ideal but I think it would have been better? I don’t think killing Carlos is honoring Cameron at all. Descendants is big for Disney (Channel at least). If Carlos stays around, it’s like part of Cameron is still here, heling people, keeping his memory alive. Killing him (and not even properly explaining it) is more disrespectful.

What would have been ideal is if Carlos was there and either not talked but still was with them participating. I mean, Jay barely talked. They could have made it work. Or, they could have used old dialogue Cameron has done in the past. The past Descendants, Jessie, Gamer’s Guide, maybe some interviews Disney did. They would have access to that and not have to pay anyone to get it. Throw in a few generic lines and he has as big of a role Jay does.

“That sounds easy to say but hard to do”

Probably, but everything in art is and it would have been worth it. Besides, no offense to the animators who were probably overworked as is, but the whole thing seemed rushed? They’re isle outfits were basically color blocks. Again, the animators did a wonderful job, it would be Disney’s fault for rushing it to get it out (Probably for the ending. Be patient!)

“Wait! You said you don’t want Cameron replaced, so how could he live on through Carlos’ story”

Books? Most of the content from Descendants is from books (which the movies ignore along with Wicked World, which is a whole other issue I have. Like, you just had to mention Freddie or CJ, not cast them or anything. The cross media continuity could have been beautiful. What happened to  Beelzebub, is she okay? This haunts me)

But yeah, books. Mal, Evie, Jay, and Carlos could still have meaningful and important adventures together in books, it would honor Cameron, and he wouldn’t be replaced. H*ck, they could have had a way deeper story if they made the Wedding a book, or even a graphic novel (that sounds like I’m belittling graphic novels but I assure you that’s not what I mean. I think a graphic novel would be a shorter story than a novel, even was used on content sized. I assume it would be like the mangas in length verses Melissa De La Cruz books) That would be a better and more lasting way to honor him

Just a little thing here that ties in the Descendants 3 complaints I have. They make it seem like Maleficent loves Mal and is maybe a good Mom? You spend the first two movies and the books nailing in their parents are abusive and terrible and they are afraid of them but the it’s all “Oh, they really love their kids, it’s not that bad” ??? Like, I’m sure not everyone parent was evil to their kids, I can believe Smee was a loving father, but the other are canonically bad and abusive and it’s actually upsetting they threw that all to the side and pretended it wasn’t real? More of a D3 complaint but they have Maleficent too nice and loving, even as a lizard in this. (Also why didn’t she turn back when she went back to the Isle in D2? Mal’s curse breaks in D3 when she crosses the barrier)

“Please, tell us why you hate the ending already!”

It’s an obvious cash grab? They want to make more money from the franchise but can’t continue without Cameron, and Dove, Sofia, and Booboo wouldn’t continue without him (this was hard enough for them) so they needed a new story to tell since they hate books I guess? This wasn’t made to tie up Mal’s story, it was there for them to add in the “someone else’s story is starting” as showing that Alice in Wonderland tease so they can move on without Cameron and the others and still make their money without caring about the actors that made the story what it is or the characters they created and people or the existing stories. That’s not honoring Cameron, that’s finding a way to make more money without having to dedicate it to Cameron or worry about what to do with Carlos. It’s disgusting. 

Listen, the past few days I’ve been panicking about this (not a panic attack, I’m not making light of those and I have had several, but my chest was going tight and my heart was racing off and on when I thought about it) because I was so worried they were going to kill Carlos and shove him to the side and not really care about him, and they kind of did? At least I’m angry instead of frightened now but it’s bumming me out that it’s being praised so much. Hopefully I’m not the only one to feel this way......

(sorry, this get long and I don’t feel like proof reading but tonight has made me Tired)

[toiletpotato]

Exactly! I think the 1939isms become all the more evident when actually watching the stage show, since with the cast album all you get are some references to Fiyero being brainless, Boq & the Lion's part in March of the Witch Hunters (but no context of how they got that way), and then the Unlimited theme being the same seven notes as Over the Rainbow but in a different key.

a tl;dr to what's below the cut is: yeah, Wicked basically relies on you to have watched the 1939 movie a few times as a kid and to turn your brain off and have fun. It is very fun to put way too much thought into it though (which is what I did).

How do y'all think they'll handle the 1939 of it all with the Wicked movie(s)?

I can't speak to the Wicked books since I have not read them, but to my understanding it is that the musical took bits and pieces of the book (Animal activism, Galinda & Elphie at Shiz, the entire first act) and then created its own canon (such as Fiyero & Elphaba's fate in the book vs the musical). But then the musical adds so many more nods and nudges to the 1939 film. It'll be interesting to see the public's reaction once the movie comes out, partially because I wonder how close Universal can get before it is copyright infringement (since Warner Bros owns the 1939 copyright). Disney was able to use ruby slippers in Return to Oz, so we'll have to see what happens there.

Also, in 1939: the head monkey is credited as Nikko, but in the musical (and apparently the Wicked books), his name is Chistery. Are they co-head monkeys? How would you explain away that?

I do wonder if they'll still keep with the costuming theme of Fiyero's Scarecrow costume (that looks like Ray Bolger's, plus they play part of a slowed down version of If I Only Had a Brain upon his entrance in the Finale) being a disheveled version of his Captain of the Guard costume.

What @gliyerabaa added caused me to think: imagine being the Scarecrow in the 1939 movie with the Wicked musical knowledge. Like, obviously he looks different and maybe he's doing a voice, but he has to: befriend one of his old schoolmates who he knows wants to murder his girlfriend, befriend the Lion cub (it also weird, in 1939 it's mentioned that the Lion and the Scarecrow know each other already, but the Tin Man and Lion don't. So are they just trying to improv a new backstory so as to not traumatize Dorothy?) that he and Elphaba saved from class that day, face his old boss and eventually get awarded a diploma/named a new ruler of Oz, get lit on fire by his girlfriend and also be torn apart by her monkeys, stand near his former fiancee as his new friend gets sent home while she thinks that he died in a field!!

Though-, based on what we know from No Good Deed- would he have actually burned? Since the song says "and however they try to destroy him, let him never die". What would have happened if not for the water?

I think he tags along with Dorothy and the gang possibly on sheer circumstance? If we're going with the musical's Dorothy and the gang which seems to be 1939 Dorothy, not book Dorothy. Like maybe after he was almost beat to death and he sees this poor kid that looks utterly lost so he tries to give her directions, but uh oh- Scarecrows don't talk! So he has to come up with this backstory about how crows aren't scared of him and then sing this little song (but how much time has passed since he was taken out to the field?? Has it been an hour? Act 2 moves so quickly in terms of 1939 time). Do the three friends/Elphaba/Glinda/the Wizard have this unspoken agreement to not let this random child (who is only in Oz due to Morrible's twister) see any of the political issues and other turmoil facing Oz?

Once Dorothy leaves do they all drop the facade and let Glinda take over, since that seems to be suggested by the musical??

And how do you explain away the "you just hit your head really bad, Oz was a dream that's why your 3 new friends look just like the farm workers"? In Wicked, it is established that she was a child of both worlds, so our world does exist. Are Aunt Em & Uncle Henry just kind of shutting that conversation down by trying to convince Dorothy it was all a dream??

With how the show has a circular nature, is Glinda traveling around Oz telling the story? Since it starts with "look, it's Glinda!"/"it's good to see me, isn't it?" but then it ends with Glinda rising in her bubble and announcing that the Wicked Witch is dead.

oz derivative works canon is held together with a glue stick (affectionate) <3

on one hand I think "yes add more nods to the 1939 film that's so fun I love the 1939 movie and it's the most recognizable one to the general public" but on the other hand I think "maybe don't add too many references to the 1939 film because if you give any critical thought to it, the plot of the two works together just barely line up and sense begins to unravel if you give it the smallest bit of thought: the entire movie takes place in the span of four songs in act 2"

for example:

No One Mourns the Wicked

Dear Old Shiz

The Wizard and I

What is This Feeling

Something Bad

Dancing Through Life

Popular

I'm Not That Girl

One Short Day

A Sentimental Man

Defying Gravity

Thank Goodness

The Wicked Witch of the East

Wonderful

I'm Not That Girl (reprise)

As Long As You're Mine

-> Dorothy's house lands in Munchkinland

-> Come Out, Come Out Wherever You Are

-> Dorothy meets Glinda AND the Wicked Witch of the West; receives Ruby Slippers- I'll get you my pretty and your little dog too

Catfight scene

No Good Deed

-> Dorothy meets the Scarecrow

-> If I Only Had a Brain

-> We're Off to See the Wizard

March of the Witch Hunters

-> Dorothy and the Scarecrow pick apples

-> Dorothy meets the Tin Man

-> If I Only Had a Heart

-> The Wicked Witch of the West appears on top of the farmhouse and threatens them

-> We're Off to See the Wizard

-> Dorothy meets the Lion

-> If I Only Had the Nerve

-> We're Off to See the Wizard

-> Poppy scene

-> Arrive in the Emerald City

-> Horse of a Different Color

-> Surrender Dorothy

-> King of the Forest

-> Meet the Wizard

-> Go to the Haunted Forest

-> Dorothy gets captured

For Good

-> The friends save Dorothy

-> The Witch lights the Scarecrow on fire

-> The Witch gets melted

-> Dorothy and friends go back to the Emerald City

-> They receive their gifts

Glinda tells the Wizard to leave and Morrible to prison

-> The Scarecrow, Lion, and Tin Man are put in charge of the Emerald City in the Wizard's absence

-> The Wizard's balloon floats away

-> Glinda returns, click your heels 3×

-> Back to Kansas

Finale begins

The Scarecrow shows up in Kiamo Ko

Opens trapdoor

Says they can never return to Oz

Glinda thinks her friends are dead

End of Finale

End of show

--

Idk what I'm trying to say with all this- don't get it wrong I LOVE both properties dearly. It's just funny when one is framed as a prequel when that only applies to act 1 since the entire thing takes place in the background of act 2. All three (book/movie/musical) entities are very unique in their own special ways! It's fun to look at it closely and realize some little silly bits about it though :3

[mrsalwayswrite]

Filthy Tease (Eugene Roe x f!reader)

I meant for this to be a spicy Roe piece but it kinda of took a different route than anticipated... oops? Anyway, i wanna dedicate this to @saritanotserena for giving me the idea but also cuz she is amazing! (sorry if this is awful, i still think i’m terrible at smut) also, not super edited cuz we die like men, alright?

Warning: sexual content- teasing & fingering & my poor attempts at dirty talk

Words:3700

Tag list: @happyveday @saritanotserena @sydney-m @evelynshelby

 There were many things most people were not aware of in regards to Easy Company's Eugene Roe. For example, he was terrified of bees. But instead of running away screaming, he would freeze and not move, barely breathing until he felt safe enough to move. Also, the man was obsessed with strawberries. He would pick them any day over chocolate or any other kind of dessert. When alone, he enjoyed quietly quoting poetry. He never did it in front of the men, for fear they would mock him. The biggest secret that would surprise people though?

 Eugene Roe was a filthy tease whose lips dripped sin and hands brought you to heaven with their touch. 

 And you were well acquainted with this side of him. 

 In Albourne, the replacements had begun calling you 'mama bear' shortly after you punched a Sergeant from a different company, who was picking on one of Easy's replacements. You also had the habit of checking up on them and trying to teach them extra things that training left out. You did not mind the nickname. Honestly, you thought it was sweet how all the boys took to you so. Since most of the Toccoa guys did not want anything to do with the replacements, you stepped up. 

 Unfortunately, all this extra attention from the replacements seemed to spark unnecessary jealousy from Roe. In the quiet moments you two managed to sneak away, you always tried to remind and show him how he was the only man who caught your eye. You would shower him with words of affection, hold him close and kiss him until he forgot his worries. You both hated that you had to keep your relationship a secret. You tried to remind him that this was only temporary. One day you could kiss and hold hands in public. One day you could stand before him in a white dress. One day you would make others jealous with the overwhelming love you had for each other. 

 But that was not today. Or in any sense of the foreseeable future. So you kept your relationship secret and tried to keep your affections on a slow simmer as to not alert the rest of the company. 

 After you started gaining more attention from the replacements, after you started spending more time with them…. Roe changed his tactics in reminding you of who always stole your breath and made you feel like a goddess on earth. 

 And that was how you learned he was a filthy tease. 

 It started off with simple things. He would walk past you and let his hand caress your ass for a fleeting moment before moving on to avoid drawing notice to the pair of you. Or if you sat next to one another to eat, he would place his hand on your knee or thigh underneath the table, giving you an occasional squeeze. If your hair got in your face, he would tenderly tuck it behind your ear or adjust your cap if your hands were full. It was sweet how tactical he was. Always seeking for a way to subtly touch you. 

 Then one day, you were walking with a couple of replacements back from the firing range, having been helping them with their accuracy. You saw Roe approaching, hands in his pockets, his eyes focused on you. He commented how he needed your advice for something and so you innocently followed him towards the small aid station set up in Albourne, having waved goodbye to the replacements. 

 As you passed a huge stack of empty boxes next to a brick building, he pushed you off the road and behind the boxes. You slammed against the brick wall, shock making you unable to cry out or demand about his actions. He had never been rough with you before. Concern and anger warned in you, unsure if something was wrong with him or he was being an asshole. When you leaned back, ready to demand what was going on, your words were cut off by his mouth covering yours and his tongue slipping between your lips. His body pressed against you, pinning you between him and the brick wall behind you. His mouth and touch dominated you, bringing you to the brink and turning you into a puddle of desire. Just as a whine left your throat, desperate for him to touch you where you needed him most, he pulled back. Through the haze of lust, you could see his lips swollen, eyes dilated, and chest rising and falling rapidly, matching your own. 

 "What…?" You stumbled out, your mind and body quaking with need. 

 "That's so ya don't forget." Even his voice was affected, more husky than normal. God, it sounded delicious and you wanted to taste it from the source again. 

 "Forget… forget what?"

 "Who makes ya feel good. Who can please ya… and who always wants ya." He stepped back, a smug smirk tugging on his lips. "See ya later, chéri." Then he walked away, back onto the road, hands in his pockets as if nothing had happened. As if he had not left you aching in need and obscenely wet. 

 You stayed there against the brick wall for longer than you would ever care to admit. Your heart hammered in your chest, the ache in your belly at an almost painful level, your breathing heavy in anticipation for what you thought was to come. But now you stood there… alone… and horny. 

 You thought maybe this was just a one-time thing. He had never done anything like this before. 

 Oh, how wrong you were. 

 A couple days later you sat in the back of a lecture room, Nixon at the front talking about something very important. But you could not hear a word he was saying. Oh no, because Eugene Roe was sitting next to you, whispering in your ear about all the dirty things he wanted to do to you in quite explicit terms. Half the stuff he whispered, you wondered where he even got the ideas. Soon enough, his words seeped into your mind as he painted such lewd images of the two of you. You had to press your thighs tightly together to deal with the growing ache. Something you were positive he noticed and delighted in. At one point, he even drew his finger slowly up from your knee to your hip as he whispered about sneaking into Sink's office and letting him fuck you over the man's desk. Once the lecture was over, Roe just gave you a wink and easily got up to walk away with the others heading out. You had to sit there for several minutes, taking long, deep breaths to try and will away the flush over your skin and suppress the pooling desire in your belly. 

 You could not decide if you loved or hated this new side of Roe. 

 Another time he asked for your help, that he might practice a new technique he read about in one of his medical books. You laid down on one of the beds in the aid station. The quiet chatting of a couple of the other medics behind the half-wall curtain filled the otherwise silent air from the other side of the station. Roe snuck a quick kiss to your lips making you giggle quietly and the two of you easily fell into a light-hearted conversation about a party being set up for the enlisted. Though as you two kept talking and he practiced wrapping and unwrapping various parts of your body, his hands began to…. wander. His fingers skimmed up your thighs, moving teasingly close to your groin then darting away. 

 At first you thought it was an accident and paid no mind, but after a couple times, you realized he was doing it on purpose. When you called him out on it, he pretended to have no idea what you were talking about. Then he told you he needed to practice working on a chest wound. Next thing you knew, he had the top several buttons of your army-issued jacket open, and he was laying a bandage on your exposed skin. His hands roamed across your chest, brushing your breasts with firm strokes. At one point he murmured something about giving you morphine and pretended to jab a syringe into your thigh; but as his hand moved back up, it grazed over your sex, leaving a fiery trail up your torso and back to your chest in its wake.  

 "Gene…" you moaned, unable to take it anymore, wriggling underneath his touch seeking friction. 

 He hushed you, wicked eyes glancing towards where the others were in the aid station. "Ya gotta keep quiet, pretty lady. Can ya do that for me?"

 You nodded but it was only half-hearted, your mind already drawing in the euphoric hunger he induced in you. His hands worked you- skimming, fondling, cupping and teasing- in all the ways that soon left you a quivering mess, biting down on your hand to keep the lascivious moans at bay. 

 The whole time he complimented and whispered to you, saying things that only seemed to heighten the experience. "Doin' so good, mon chéri, look at ya. Beautiful." Or "gotta keep quiet, pretty lady." Or "just imagine when I do this to ya, but with my tongue… I know ya taste so damn good. How's that feel, darlin'?"

 Finally, you were toeing the edge, body desperate to fall off that cliff. Your body vibrated with maddening want. "Gene, please…." You begged without shame; the desire, the need too great for you to care. 

 "Shhh...can't let 'em see ya like this." He cooed, one hand cupping your cheek while the other fondled your breast. "This is for me only, yeah? Say it, chéri."

 "Just you… just you, Gene."

 "Mmm… good girl." Then he finally slipped his skilled hand into your pants and pushed you off the edge. Your body drowned in bliss, mind hazy with pleasure. 

 This went on for weeks. Any opportunity he could pull you into a dark corner, push you against a wall, touch you, or drive you wild… he took full advantage of. 

 To everyone else, he still remained the quiet, slightly reclusive medic with a heart of gold and healing hands. 

 But to you… he was a fallen angel with the sole purpose to tempt you with that delightful Cajun accent and take control of you with those sinful lips and magical hands. 

 ***

 The atmosphere in the pub was jovial. Glenn Miller played in the background from the radio. The many voices of the paratroopers filled the pub, overshadowing the famous artist. The place reeked of beer, cigarette smoke and testosterone.  

 Buck, Luz, Toye and Heffron played darts in the corner. A few of the other Toccoa men heckled them and laughed at their own jokes, ignoring the replacements scattered about. The divide between Toccoa men and replacements felt like a terrible chasm. You tried to bridge it though. Floating between both parties, you laughed and cracked jokes with everyone while sipping on your beer. 

 This was the first time you had worn your WAAC uniform in months, reviving fond memories at its feel and look. You had started in the WAAC but then threw a series of unexpected encounters and circumstances, you eventually found yourself at Camp Toccoa training to be a paratrooper. Now, it felt odd to be wearing a skirt, stockings and kitten heels. You had become so used to your dirty ODs. Tonight though, you donned your skirt and heels, even going so far to put on some red lipstick. Who knew when the next chance you would have to dress up would be?

 "Come on, just one dance." Simmons was begging from the seat beside you, his boyish charm on full display, enhanced by the dimples in his cheeks. 

 You laughed, more amused than annoyed by his persistence. "No, if I dance with you then everyone else will expect a dance too."

 "Give it up, Peter." Burkle chuckled. "Mama bear ain't going out there."

 You pointed a finger at the dark-haired replacement across the table. "I knew there was a reason I liked you, Frank."

 "Ya hear 'bout the man who got caught joy-ridin' the other day?" Ralph Nestor changed the topic thankfully, leaning forward against the table, ready to spread the latest gossip. 

 Taking another sip of your beer, you listened but scanned the crowd around you. It was about time for you to move on to the next group. 

 As if sensing a pair of eyes burning into you, you swiveled your head trying to locate the gaze. It did not take long for you to meet the eyes of Eugene Roe. He sat with Spina and a few others at a table on the other side of the bar. He subtly tapped the empty spot next to him after he caught your eye. A warmth filled you. It was stupid since you knew he loved you but even here amongst a crowd, he wanted you by his side. 

 "Well, I'm off, fellas. Don't get too drunk tonight please… and if you do, make sure to keep all your clothes on. I'm looking at you, Private Burkle." You teased, watching the young man's face redden at the reminder, while the others laughed. Standing up, you brushed your skirt down, still unused to the feeling after so long. 

 "Yes, mama bear." A couple of them chorused. 

 You smiled. As you reached forward to grab your half-full beer glass, a hand slipped into yours and spun you around into a solid chest. "What?"

 Simmons held your hand as he placed his other on your waist. "Come on, one dance. I'll even keep my hands to myself."

 "Your hands wander at all, there's at least thirty men here who will rip your hands off for me if I ask."

 "Oh believe me, I know." He squeezed your hand, a cheeky smile on his face. "Please?"

 "Simmons, give it up!" Nestor said. "I see your platoon Sergeant looking over here."

 That got Simmons to freeze, glancing over his shoulder to see Guarnere with eyes narrowed at the two of you. 

 You laughed, pushing away from the replacement. "Better not piss your platoon Sergeant off. I'll be back for my glass." Swiftly, you moved in the direction of the bathroom, sending a wink Guarnere's way and receiving one in return. 

 The women's bathroom was small and cramped with two stalls, barely room to move, and a small counter with a sink. Either women did not frequent this pub much or this was awkwardly small to discourage women from lounging and socializing in here away from men. In your mind, it could go either way honestly. 

 After you finished your business, you stood at the sink washing your hands. The cool water soothed your skin after the heat in the pub. Looking up in the mirror, you saw your lipstick had faded and was slightly smudged. Most likely from the beer glass. Carefully, you tried to fix it using the tip of your finger. It seemed absurd, with everything you had been through- the training and combat you had seen- for you to be standing here worried about your smudged lipstick. Perhaps it would not have felt so odd if you stayed in the WAAC instead of joining the paratroopers. 

 Behind you, the bathroom door opened which surprised you. You thought you had been the only woman at the pub tonight. Maybe a few local women showed up? You looked up into the mirror, prepared to greet the woman. After the person stepped through, your jaw dropped and eyes widened. For it was not a local woman in a pretty dress that stepped in.  

 It was Eugene Roe. 

 "What are you doing in here, Gene?" You looked at him through the mirror. "Is the men's bathroom full?"

 Instead of verbally responding, you watched him latch the simple lock over the door. Your movements stilled as you realized what he just did. 

 "Gene?"

 In a single stride, he came up behind you, putting his arms out on either side of you, caging you between the sink and his body. 

 "Darlin'," he crooned in your ear as his lips left a trail of sweet heat along your neck. "Ya look too damn sexy out there. I see ya legs in those heels and skirt and all I can think about is how good they feel wrapped around me as I pound into ya."

 Your skin felt feverish as the heat radiated off his body. Even through all the layers between you two, your body soaked it in like the parched ground after a thunderstorm. With the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin and his filthy words, your womb clenched from that alone. 

 "Then I see that boy with his hands on ya… shit, it took everythin' for me to not rip him off ya."

 "He didn't mean anything, Gene. I promise."

 "Don't matter. I hate it." His hands gripped the hem of your skirt, slowly pulling it up and bunching it around your hips. He began laying open-mouth kisses along your neck, the whole time his eyes holding yours, as you watched him in the mirror. "I need to 'ear ya sing, pretty lady, I need to 'ear ya gorgeous sounds."

 "Gene…" you moaned out, your eyelids fluttering. That delicious warmth, that only he could fuel, began growing in your belly. "We can't right here." 

 "Shall we find out?"

 Without preamble, one of his hands slipped under your skirt, the other still bunching the fabric up around you and out of the way. You hissed slightly as he touched your bare core, unable to completely hide the smirk on your face as he gave a slight groan. 

 "Mon chéri, where ya skivvies at? Ya been out there this whole time with no underwear on?" 

 "I wanted to surprise you… I thought you might try something."

 "Fuck!" He bit your earlobe and ground his hardening cock against your ass. "Ya tryin' to tease me? Mmm?"

 Before you could retort something smart back at him, you gasped as he slipped a finger into you, finding you already wet for him. 

 "Look at ya, sweetheart, so fuckin' beautiful right now." He murmured, eyes not having left yours in the mirror this whole time, pining you even more so than his body still caging you. 

 With one hand, you grabbed the sink to anchor yourself, your legs turning into jelly beneath you from the onslaught of pleasure coursing through your veins. "Gene, please." You begged. 

 Eyes boring into yours, he pulled his finger out of you, drawing a whiny whimper from your lips. With a salacious smirk, he opened his mouth and placed his pointer and middle fingers in his mouth, making sure to swirl his tongue around them then pulled them slowly out. 

 "Holy fuck…"

 Still smirking, he reached down and slipped both fingers into you. They plunged in and out of you, the wet sounds lewdly echoed in the small bathroom. Roe continued to grind against you from behind, timing it to match with the thrusts of his fingers. You wanted to close your eyes, to sink into the heat bubbling in you. But you were unable to for Roe watched you with a heated, heavy gaze in the mirror. Your gazes locked as he brought you closer and closer to your climax, moans and sighs slipping from your lips. 

 "Good girl, mon chérie, so beautiful. Look at ya."

 He continued to whisper in your ear in between leaving open-mouth kisses and bites on your neck and jaw. 

 "Ya close, sweetheart? I can feel it, so close."

 "Oh God, please, Gene…. Don't stop. Please."

 With a dark chuckle, he gave one last flick to your clit and pushed you over the edge. As you opened your mouth, he slammed his mouth over yours, greedily swallowing your cry of bliss. You floated on waves of ecstasy; your eyes closed to soak in the sensations. Eventually you opened your eyes, even if the movement felt sluggish and your body limp. 

 "There's those gorgeous eyes." Roe nuzzle your temple. "Ya back with me?"

 "Mmm… I think so."

 He chuckled. "Think ya can stand?"

 That was when you noticed he was practically holding you up between an arm now wrapped around your waist and you still pinned between him and the sink. 

 "Sorry." You mumbled, standing up on shaky legs. When you noticed his cocky smirk, you languidly swatted at him. "Shut up." Slowly you turned around to look at him. It did not escape your notice his… um… large problem he was sporting in his trousers. 

 "You know… the couple I am billeted with, they left this afternoon for a weekend in London visiting family."

 "Oh? Well, that is interestin' news."

 "Uh huh. What's the likelihood we can sneak out of here unnoticed?"

 He leaned down to press his lips against yours, drawing a soft sigh from you at the sweetness in the kiss. "Very likely… Guess we'll find out though."

 "And what's the likelihood we'll actually make it to the house before you try to get under my skirt again?"

 "Less likely."

 You laughed, pressing a hand to his chest to push him back. Running a hand over your skirt, you tried to smooth it out as much as possible and hide any evidence of your tryst. 

 "Ready?"

 "Always."

 The two of you somehow managed to sneak out of the bathroom and out of the pub without drawing notice to yourselves. As you stepped out into the night, walking quickly down the street, you both were giggling like teenagers having snuck out of your parents' homes. He snagged your hand and pulled you along, almost jogging down the silent road in Albourne. 

 Before you even made it halfway to your billeted house, Roe pulled you into a dark corner, just off the road. You laughed before his mouth covered yours, silencing you and turning your laughter into moans. 

 You did not mind too much. 

[rosiehufflepuff]

Headcanon : Hufflepuff -fem - and Slytherin(or DRACO ) go to book fair in muggle world

Hufflepuff ran to Slytherin in excitement almost tripping over million of stuff -SLYTHERIN!!!!!!!!!-

Slytherin almost having a heart attack watching Hufflepuff running to him -DUMMY U ALMOST BROKE EACH PART OF UR BODY NOW!!-

Hufflepuff shoves a poster in the boy face. Explaining how she got  it from her half blood friend however as soon as he saw it , the expression changed to disgust in a sec - …….muggle …….stuff?- -NOOO IT ISNT ANY MUGGLE STUFF ! IT IS BOOK FAIR!!-

Hufflepuff kept whining to Slytherin about how it is amazing !! And how they need to go !! Cuz all the book they dreamt of , was there !!!

- Hufflepuff ….you wanna me to go , wait In line …. and rub elbows with muggles …?!! Aho .. UNFORTUNATE.....I DONT DO THAT !!- waving Hufflepuff away as he talked with full disbelieve 

Frowning at Slytherin who was admiring his thousands something Galleons rings in his fingers , she gets hit by idea !! grinning as Cheshire , she opens her mouth with the most wicked thing that can hit her fav Slytherin - oooookay as you wanna ….I’m going to ask Gryffindor to come I’m confident that he would love it soooooo much -

Knowing the impact of the word “ Gryffindor “ on the boy , she speaks it out as his blood boils and his eyes shot up large , NAH UH !!! NO WAY HE IS HANDING HER , ON  A BLOODY GOLD PLATTER TO THIS ANNOYING “STAR KID “ !!!! 

-NO I CHANGED MY MIND !!! - smiling cheerfully more than she should be , she learned that her fav Slytherin wouldn’t take the concept of Gryffindor replacing him , now with determination asking about everything , they settled about “ the mudblood event “, according to the dramatic boy words .

The next day they go to their meeting area ( where no Slytherin can see cuz “ the status “ ) , as Huff reaches ,she drop her jaw at the Slytherin , she can’t help but stare at his attire

-are you done staring? - Slytherin couldn't help but  rub his face in attempts in  trying to cover his blush at her gaping -what the hell…… are you wearing ….? - the Slytherin blinks at Hufflepuff , what kind of concern is that ???  - uhhhh…..clothes ??-  

as cunning as Slytherin can be , he is not reading between the lines as the girly hoped so -ummm but it is just a book fair …that is kind of fancy... Don't you think?? -

Slytherin couldn't help but roll his eyes hard, that he swears to merlin !!! that he almost saw his brain at the word “ fancy “ , him going to the muggle world doesn’t mean he need to look unpresentable !!!

 He sigh as he explains to Hufflepuff how that is not fancy and that is ordinary

Hufflepuff blinks non stop looking at the definition of a “ ordinary look”  of the boy in front of her, then she shifts her eyes at herself and her very casual outfit

-we look as odd as night and day …- Hufflepuff whispers to herself however the words didn't pass the strong ear of the boy in front of her  , leading to sharp scowl at the words ..........at how she thinks of them with this huge contrast , he despises that !! “-are we going or not - by this words , Hufflepuff and Slytherin go to the Muggle world .

As both are waiting in line , million of adoring eyes is staring very hard and non stop at the wealthy blonde boy in full black , all this happening next to our Hufflepuff , she couldn't help but think  -wow I feel like  I’m standing next a celebrity .....the whole realm is staring ...- as she took a fast glimpse to the icy Slytherin next to her - i feel like a standing mosquito next to a butterfly ............ or would it be Scorpio though ..............GAH!! still TT -

 Hufflepuff couldn’t help but think of that ! ....merlin … she swears she saw people are flushing red just by looking at the Slytherin!!

Slytherin was getting so fed up with these gazes by the minute passing, no matter how much he bloody glared , they didn't stop , in the very unlikeness , they seemed to like it !!!  what is wrong with these mudbloods!!!  

.........but he kind of liked the attention…… he wont admit it tho... but still it was his time with Hufflepuff !! FUCK OFF !!

As they enter finally….. to Slytherin knees ……they almost fell off…. …. the warm female grabs his hand saying she doesn't wanna lose him in the mid of the moving crowd, very oblivious to the effect that she has on his heart doing “all odd stuff “ according to him, he has to visit a healer about that issue ….

Hufflepuff can’t stop running around the store going all wild and jumpy about all the books she is seeing from continuing of books either her or Slytherin has or new one she heard about -SLY DID YOU SEE THAT !! -SLY U NEED TO CHECK THIS !!”

on the other hand sly was just keeping eye on her while checking slowly the shelves himself , giving her a hum from time to time , as he tries to find anything he likes  .

finding a book with weird cover , he starts to run his gazes through the first pages of his new found treasure , knowing that he got at least something from this mud blood world ,  his eyes look up for his Hufflepuff .

-Hufflepuff I’m getting this book - as he searches with his gaze range , his intense eyes couldn't find a trace of her , almost giving him a minor panic attack , he calls for her again .

panic and anger at himself taking over , He storms to the nearest worker and grab them by arm giving them a glare with venom dripping with each word -look here I had a girl with me and she is gone ! ........I swear if you didn’t find her I’m going to show you what a bloody nightmare really Is .......that you wish you were-“

 before continuing the venom , Hufflepuff warm voice cut Slytherin icy tone , and also probably saving the worker from getting a scare or hexed .

Slytherin turns to Hufflepuff as he calms down his panic ,however his emotions of being upset speak up in form of -where were ya ?!!” with a sigh , the girl in yellow  explains that she told  him that she is going to bathroom but it seems that he didn’t hear , 

her eyes moves to the worker that is being held as prisoner by the Slytherin , you request him to leave the poor worker arm as people started to group up to attend the drama  ,  giving the best Hufflepuff smile she can, apologizing to the worker saying that her friend wasn’t used to going out much , excusing herself as she dragged the Slytherin to corner in the dark till the heat of the mummers go off

-why are you apologizing!! You did nothing wrong !!- -SHHH-

after some time of both sitting in the corner and calming Slytherin anxiety , both went to collect the the chosen books and as they are walking out

-see I came and behaved too , now u will read me the book I chose !! - Slytherin teases Hufflepuff as she rolls her eyes - yeah except you almost gave a heart attack to poor Muggle ! You will read it yourself !!- as she walk before the Slytherin sulking behind

——————

HIIIIIII!! So this my first time ever doing something like that !! I could not decide on draco x hufflepuff or slytherin x hufflepuff!!so both I guess ?!

[szynkaaa]

I more or less watched The Boy!!! And by watching, I mean I skipped more or less through the jump scare parts because I cannot do horror movies at all. I haven’t watched one since 2015 and The Boy was like the first horror movie after five years

Full disclosure, the ONLY reason I started watching the movie was because someone posted a gif of Greta standing close to Brahms who was all sweaty and breathing heavily n I was like “oh shit who dat he hot” and here I am 

Can anyone explain the sandwich scene to me? So Greta was scared shitless and locked herself in her room, but why did Brahms make her favorite sandwich for her?

I did some digging for interviews and generally what people have been saying about the movie, took some screenshots from youtube to put my thoughts and musing together too! 

Can anyone explain the sandwich scene to me? So Greta was scared shitless and locked herself in her room, but why did Brahms make her favorite sandwich for her? 

So first of all, let’s start with a low resolution photo I found on IG of James Russell without mask:

which brings me to my first musing/thought/question? 

It’s all under the cut, very screenshot and text heavy, you can find more Brahms drawing at the bottom though  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So at the end of the movie, we are shown a Brahms with a broken mask and his face being burned, indicating that he was in fact in the fire.

I assumed first that the fire was created by the parents to fake their sons death and then he had to live hidden inside the walls? 

But I’ve also heard apparently it was Brahms who set the fire to fake his own death or maybe an eight years old kid really was trying to burn himself down?? 

My other theory is that his parents made the fire and tried to kill Brahms and it did burn him but he survived, and the parents didn’t wanna go to jail sooo to hide everything they made their son live in the walls

i mean the responsible thing would be to turn their kid in and have him treated and stuff;;; listened to a murder podcast about two cases where kids murdered enough kids and how they are doing now interesting read Brahms made me think of those two cases 

I also do not think that the previous nannies were killed. Like, c’mon. You’d report a person missing and sooner or later it would go back to the Heelshire mansion and if the body counts piles up? Can’t look good and I doubt that the Heelshire wants the police investigating them close up. 

Also, when the mom was like “He’s chosen you if you’ll have him” to Greta? Is it just me or the wording or does it sound like a marriage proposal/arrangement xD 

Brahms is a brat and he sees the people around him as his possession or to toy around. But I also do think that he has some abandonment issues but not in the sad tragic kind of way lmao. Even if he was the one controlling and manipulating his parents from behind-the-scene (quite literally I suppose?), he was still told as a kid to live in hiding and that no one can know he is alive. I don’t know much about the human brain, but I can imagine how damaging that must be to his mental growth and set him back in some way? We don’t know too much about his relationship with his parents - but I assume that he must have still loved them in his own twisted way. Can’t imagine that he would have been indifferent about his parents suicide. 

The scene before Greta manages to back out - first he uses the child voice to beg her to come back and promises he will be good. That’s his manipulating Greta, but when that doesn’t work and she tries harder to open the door, he becomes more desperate to keep her there and then completely loses his temper and threatens to kill Malcolm if she doesn’t return. I’m pretty sure homeboy would have killed him anyway. And then later when she returns and he is all heavy breathing and smelling her hair and then jumps up when she shouts Brahms? Idk I def think there is some sort of abandonment issue going on. 

I don’t think he is a child stuck in a man’s body or manchild or whatever. I think that he does know how to take care of himself - but he just chooses to manipulate people with the facade of a kid to do his bidding and cater to his needs. 

Anywhomst, but clearly Brahms is also a very manipulative and controlling person based, based on how the mother was reacting on the destroyed bedroom, she really seemed to be at the end of her wits and just breaking down with her “you promised you’d be good”. It was very heartbreaking to watch and also scary because it really makes you realize just how much power Brahms holds over them?? idk maybe it was just me.

Next point: the CGI mask  + the burns 

So according to some interviews with the director stated that at the first test streaming, people weren’t really scared of Brahms because he was too handsome so they had to slap a mask over his face. The face was done after everything was filmed. I’m thinking the face burns were also added post-production when they were adding the cgi mask. Otherwise, James would have needed to go through the makeup department for some wicked face burns and it would have been visible during the filming and test screening too? Which would imply that at first the fire was supposed to be just  a cover story that their son is dead and it was changed later

Observation/thoughts on Brahms Heelshire

Love how he stands there with his hands behind his back and then nods when Greta tells him to go under the cover

James Russell is 191cm tall. So like. Brahms is really fucking tall. But I notice that most of the time he stands with a slight hunch. Could be due to him crawling through the walls and crawling out of places that requires him to do a lot of crouching. His bed in his hideout made me really sad, I’ll get to it later. 

Since James didn’t get many lines in the ten minutes that he appeared, I do think that his eyes did all the acting. They stand out even more with the mask on, there is just this crazy look on it. I also noticed during my rewatch that he doesn’t seem to blink much or at all. 

Oh yeah, he also peeped on Greta and Malcolm making out on the bed and then cockblocked them. We been knowing that he made a Greta doll and very likely jerked off to it. We also been knowing that he very very very likely wanted to bone Greta at the goodnight kiss scene still waiting for the maskeless kiss scene gimme gimme. I also highly doubt that Brahms has much first-hand experience with kissing n stuff. High key thinking he was trying to do copy Malcolm and do what he observed lmao

When I first watched the scene, I assumed that the hole behind the mirror has always been and it’s just another one of the hidden passages Brahms to slip in and out, but now that I’m looking at the shape of the holes, it seems to me more like the mirror and brick wall were broken at the same time?? If that is the case holy shit boy is s t  r o n g. I mean, he also punched through the closet door like no big deal so really what have the parents been feeding him. 

I’m also leaning toward the fact that he ran there because Greta screamed loudly. I don’t think he was in the room as them when everything went down there, it seemed more like he heard the scream and had to nyoomed over and then punched a way through to get out of the wall. And then went on to attack Cole. He must have known that Greta wanted Cole gone, since that what she whispered to the doll before going to bed. 

Tbh, I fully expected him to murder Cole in his sleep, but Brahms wrote a warning message in blood to tell him to get out soooooo like. Cole you were warned and now you gotta live with the consequences ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Brahm’s sleeping corner

This scene was shown at the end after Greta and Malcolm escaped. We also see them briefly during the part where Greta and Malcolm are trying to find a way out and stumbled into Brahms’ hideout. I’m not sure why the rules are slapped on the walls. It seems to me that Brahms is very very very set on that the rules / routine should be followed. In the movie, he called Greta and suggested to her that she should follow the rules, to which she then started doing it.

I headcanon that that’s the routine that he grew up with as a kid and it’s just very very very very very hard to break out of it - not that he is trying to break the routine. 

I’m failing to find a good way to put my thoughts into words, but I guess the rules and routine is sort of his coping mechanism? 

I suppose if you had an OC that you ship Brahms with and want to change stuff around the house, the OC would have to very slowly introduce new rules and routines. Baby steps, yknow.

Brahms has a violin hanging there! Honestly I would be surprised if Brahms didn’t know how to play at least one instrument. The family also has an old ass piano/clavichord (?) and Brahms loves classical music soo yeah. Love me a boy who appreciates classical musical hehe

I suppose the egg boxes are there to soundproof the room more - maybe so he can play the violin? 

There’s also music sheets hung around his attics, it’s not clear on the screenshots but when you rewatch the scene and shove your face close to the screen. Some are hanging next to the violin and there are some taped on the wall next to his bed and porn too

nice to see he has a fridge and microwave, I was concerned that he wasn’t well fed and that leftovers might not be enough, but then again. Dude is 191 cm so clearly he has been drinking his milk

Didn’t take a screenshot of his vanity, but there is a crocodile magnet stuck to the mirror hehe. I do think that he shaves and stuff, otherwise his beard would be much longer??

We can see more music sheets stuck to a pillar on the right. 

Loving the christmas lights that he has hanging there above his bed. It’s cute. 

On the shelf he has a bunch of tupperware and empty bowls. Most of hte things are neatly organized. We can also see some books and a pen

There’s some sunlight streaming inside - I do hope that Brahmsy stays warm during winters.

Here we can see more of the food that he has there - there is also a sink but I didn’t snatch a screenshot of it. I think those are potatoes in the pot? Maybe he does know how to cook some basic stuff, I do wonder if he has a functioning kitchen up there. Probably not for fire safety reasons lol

Yall see that thing on the note sheet covered pillar? Ngl, that’s a whole ass aesthetic right there.

He got a few potted plants up there. Took a closer look at them and it seems like they were healthy. So he knows how to take care of plants, which is nice to know I suppose?

Yes, we all know what he was doing with the doll and what the tissue balled up tissue implies. However, has anyone noticed the size of the bed??? 

If you scroll up a bit to the screenshot of Greta seeing the doll, it looks t i n y. The make shift doll takes up more than half of the space. 

Yall. this breaks my heart. Dude is a beanstalk. I’m pretty sure the bed is from when he was a kid shoved by his parents to live inside the wall, does he have to sleep there in his adulthood too??? 

Even though Brahms strikes me as someone who probably doesn’t sleep much or during normal times, that bed must be so tiny for him. He must be sleeping with his knees bend and shit unable to stretch out :((( 

Brahms: is a psychopath that smashed the skull of a girl and very abusive tormented his parents and then Greta Me: omg he needs a bigger bed that poor thing :(((

Brahms’ DIY corner 

Ah yes, Brahm’s little DIY/creative corner. 

Homeboy got lot of animal traps, cages and taxidermies hanging around, pointing strongly toward that it’s a hobby of it? 

Also at the end where we see him fixing up the doll, we can get a better shot at his desk, and I gotta say the threads and stuff are all very nicely organized. Brahms’s table looks more organized than mine does lmao. 

So we know he is a crafty boy. Not sure how difficult taxidermy is but I imagine it does take a lot of time to learn? Well he had all the time in the world anyway.

So yeah, that’s a wrap. Congrats if you made it to the bottom of my incoherent thoughts and ramblings, have a bonus drawing of Brahms wearing different masks: 

[johnsbleu]

Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader Chapter 99

warnings: mentions of vomit?? Hold My Hand Masterlist

The airport is crowded with people on their way home for the holidays, and you watch as a young couple embrace and kiss each other endlessly. You smile when you see a little girl running up to her dad, and he lifts her into his arms as he walks over and kisses his wife. Your eyes are peeled for your mom, and you have butterflies in your stomach in anticipation of finally seeing her again.

Finn is sleeping in his stroller as you and Tess sit and wait for your mom to get off the plane, and you’re hoping your mom gets off soon before he wakes up and starts crying. Plus you promised John that you would let her stop by the shop before you went home so he could show it off since you’ve updated a few things since she saw it last, and it’s safe to say he’s very excited.

“I’m so excited for Christmas.” Tess says as she looks over at you, “I mean, it sucks that Finn is still just a teeny tiny baby, so he can’t open presents, but Jimmy and I can!”

“Well, he can try to rip the paper at least.” you laugh and look over to see more people coming off their flights, and you spot your mom coming down the steps. “There she is!”

“Hi!” she waves wildly and walks a little faster. She wraps her arms around you and hugs you tight, then she opens her arms again to hug Tess, “My girls! Oh, and my handsome boy. Look at him!”

Tess laughs and leans down to move Finn’s blanket off his face, “He just cried the whole way here and tired himself out, so he’s sleeping. He’s a bit cranky lately. He’s teething a little early.”

“Oh, no.” your mom frowns, leaning over the stroller to kiss Finn, “Goodness, he’s chunky.”

“Yeah, he loves food.” Tess says as you all make your way out to the car. “He still drinks milk, but he did get his first taste of plums the other day. Didn’t love it. What he did love though was the carrots.”

“I bet he’ll love apples when he tries them. You loved them when you were little.” your mom smiles and gets in the front seat of the car while you put her suitcase in the trunk. “Your mom made the mistake of giving you fruit first, and she had said you didn’t want anything but apples for an entire week. She had to trick you to get you to eat some vegetables as well.”

Tess laughs and nods her head, “I read that in my baby book.”

“How is James?”

Tess chuckles as she gets Finn buckled into the seat, “He’s good. He’s been really good lately. We’re getting back to our normal since Finn’s been born, which is good. We were a bit stressed for a while there, just trying to figure out all of Finn’s little habits, and his little sleep issue he was having. That’s all fixed, so we’re all good again. No thanks to this one and John.”

You feel Tess’ hand on your shoulder as you start the car, and you let out a small laugh, “It was nothing. We just watched Finn for them a few nights while they…spent some time together and went on dates.”

Your mom smiles, looking over at you, “I love that you girls look at for one another. That’s very sweet of you to do.”

“Well, Tess would do it for me.” you say, looking in the rear view mirror, “I’m not pregnant, so don’t ask.”

Your mom laughs and looks over at you, “How is that wonderful man, Jonathan?”

“Why is John ‘wonderful’? Why didn’t Jimmy get that? He’s wonderful.” Tess says, crossing her arms.

Your mom turns around in her seat a little and pats Tess’ leg, “You know I think James is wonderful too. I think he’s a saint for being able to put up with you.”

You try to hold in a laugh, but it slips out. Tess laughs and rolls her eyes, and your mom smiles at her. Of course Tess knows that your mom loves John and Jimmy just the same, but it’s always fun to tease her.

“Jonathan is good, by the way.” you say, pulling off the highway, “He’s at the shop, which he made me promise I would let you see before we went home. We’re closed already but he went in to pick up a little bit before you came in. I should probably call him.”

The line rings repeatedly and you hear John laughing as he answers the phone, “Hi, baby!”

“Hi, John.”

John laughs, “Did you get to the airport okay? Did you get mom?”

“Hello, Jonathan.” your mom says, waving at your phone.

“Mom, he’s on speaker. He can’t see you.” you laugh, “Babe, we’re on our way to the shop now. Are you still there?”

“Yup, Jimmy and I are just cleaning it up. I figured since mom is here now, I’ll just close the shop two days early. I’ll call everyone and let them know tonight.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, turning down the long road that leads to Mill Neck.

“Yeah,” John says, “I want to be able to spend some time with mom as well. I’ll still hang out in the basement to let you two spend some time alone.”

Your mom laughs, “You don’t have to hide from us.”

“Hey, I’m like 15 minutes away. I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay, love you. Please drive safely. It’s slippery out.” he says before hanging up.

__

The shop has lights strung up in the windows, and the trees out front have lights in them as well. The town look so cute and quaint, and so festive. In the middle of the small town square, there’s a lot that is set up for people to get their Christmas trees, and there’s only a few left. There’s one massive tree in the center that is all decorated with lights and large ornaments, and there’s even a few booths set up for the winter festival that is taking place, which you and John are planning on attending tonight.

You open the shop door to see John and Jimmy sitting at the table in the middle of the shop, and they both get up to greet you when you all walk in.

“Hey.” John says, walking over to you. He leans down to kiss you, then he quickly moves to hug your mom. “Hey, mom. How was your flight?”

“It was lovely.” she says, hugging John and moving to hug Jimmy. “It went pretty fast.”

“Good, good.” Jimmy says, then he reaches down to get Finn out of his carrier.

John gestures to the shop and smiles, “Looks a little different since you were here last.”

Your mom begins to walk around the shop and she marvels at everything. She points at the back corner -- the reading nook for kids -- and she smiles, “That’s just too sweet.”

“John and I were back there the other week while a little girl read to us. She was so cute.” you laugh and wrap your arms around John’s bicep as you yawn.

“Sleepy mouse.” John whispers, leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

You tilt your head back and nod, “Yeah, it’s been a long day.”

“Is mom staying with us tonight?”

You shake your head and point at Finn, “She wants to get her hands on that baby, so no. She’s staying with them for a few days. I feel bad, I feel like she thinks she has to split her time, but she doesn’t need to. She can stay with them the whole time she’s here, I would understand. She wants to spend time with her grandson.”

“I can hear you, you know.” your mom laughs as she walks back over. “I just don’t want you to think I don’t care about you.”

“Definitely don’t think that, mom.” you say, looking over at Finn bouncing in Jimmy’s arms, “I would rather hang out with that little chunk than us anyway. We’re just going to go home and probably fall asleep on the couch.”

“That’s true.” John nods, putting his hand over his mouth as he yawns, “I’m exhausted.”

“Okay, well, I just don’t want you to feel like I don’t want to spend time with you.” she says, moving closer to you.

“Hey,” John looks down at you, “Did you tell mom about our plan?”

You give him a stern look, then roll your eyes, “No, Jonathan. I did not.”

“Ooh, that earned quite a look.” Jimmy laughs, bending down to put Finn back in his car seat, “We better get out of here.”

Your mom looks at you and smiles, “What’s your plan?”

Taking a deep breath, you let go of John’s arm and reach out for your mom’s hand, “I know that you’ve been trying to sell the house and no one has offered to buy it yet.”

“Well, it’s a terrible time for it. I should just put it up for sale again this spring.”

You nod your head and look over at John, “Well, Jonathan and I were talking the other night and I told him about my conversation I had with Tess. We really want you to move here. Finn is 5 months old. If you put the house back up for sale in the spring, he’ll be nearly 9 months. Almost a year old. You’ll have missed that whole first year of his life.”

“That’s very true. I just try to FaceTime with Tess as much as I can.” your mom says, looking at Finn. “I realize I’ve missed a lot already, and it breaks my heart but there’s not much I can do about it. If I could get someone to buy the house, I would.”

“Well, what if we had somewhat of a solution?” John ask, reaching for your hand, “What if tomorrow, we went and checked out a few houses in Oyster Bay? I’ve already called someone and they said that they’d be willing to show us two houses that are for sale. I think you might be interested in them.”

“That’s very, very sweet of you.” she says, squeezing John's bicep, “But that still doesn't change the fact that I don't have the money for it.”

Tess laughs and raises her eyebrows, “Mom.”

“We want you here, mom.” you say as you reach for her hand, “I can’t stand the thought of you missing out on your first grandchild’s life. Jonathan and I have been trying like crazy to get pregnant, and we’re hoping to get pregnant soon, so we really want you here too.” you look up at John and smile, then you look back at your mom, “I mean, here as in New York. We want you in the state, not like…”

“In your house.” your mom says, winking at you. “I get it.”

“Yeah, and this is where we leave.” you laugh and zip your coat back up. You look up at John, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, “I’m gonna take her home so she can drop her stuff off, then I’ll meet you at the festival. I love you.”

John rubs his thumb over your cheek and holds your gaze, “I love you. Please drive carefully. We don’t want another repeat of last time, do we?”

You roll your eyes and look over you shoulder at him as you open the door -- you know he only said something so your mom would ask. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I will.”

Your mom laughs as she follows behind you, and you get in the car to warm it up again. Tess opens the back door to get in, and she buckles Finn into his seat again.

“What happened the other day?” your mom asks, almost on cue.

You buckle yourself in and laugh, “It rained and it froze, and…my brakes wouldn’t work, so I slid and ran into a pole. John was at work, and I was on my way in. He nearly had a heart attack when he saw my lip all bloody. It was no one’s fault, but John called the city and cussed them out for not putting down salt, so that was kinda sweet.”

“Honey! Are you okay?” your mom asks, grabbing your arm.

You laugh, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just busted my lip open when I hit the pole. Nothing big. Oh, and dented my car. Aurelio fixed it for me the next day.”

“You’re a whole mess.” Tess laughs from the backseat, “No wonder John worries about you all the time.”

__

As you walk around the festival, you cling to John when a shiver runs up your spine, and he pulls you closer to him to warm you up. It’s a cold night, but thankfully there’s little fire pits around for you to be able to warm yourself up. John is sipping on a little cup of hot chocolate, and he offers some to you with a smile on his face.

“Don’t mind if I do!” you say, taking a sip of his drink, then you hand it back to him. “I’m hungry, like beyond hungry. I need food right this minute.”

John laughs as he looks at you, “Okay, okay, we’ll feed you.”

The air is filled with the smell of food and the sounds of people singing Christmas carols, and your heart is almost bursting with joy. There’s a small choir singing up on a stage, and you notice a little group of kids standing around and waiting to get their picture taken with Santa.

“Want your picture with Santa?” John teases, then he takes a sip of his hot chocolate, “You’ve been good this year, well, you were a little naughty the other night though.”

You look up at him and smirk, “I don’t wanna sit on his lap.”

John cocks up his eyebrow as he looks down at you, “Oh? Is there someone else in mind?”

Nodding your head, you stand in front of John as he leans down to kiss you, and he pulls you closer to you after he tosses his cup into the garbage. You laugh against his lips when you hear Tess groan in disgust, and you look over your shoulder at her.

“So gross,” she teases, nudging John’s arm when she walks past.

You smile when you see Jimmy with Finn in his arms, and you rub your finger over his cheek as he squeals, “Hi, handsome!”

“Hey,” Jimmy says, winking at you when you look at him. “Oh, you meant him? Right.”

Tess gasps when she sees Santa, “We need to get his picture with him. He’s good with people, he’ll be okay.”

You look around to make sure your mom didn’t get left behind, and you smile when you see her talking to John as they stand at a booth with homemade candles. You turn back to Tess as she reaches for your hand, then you follow her over to Santa.

“Hi, Santa!” Tess smiles, taking Finn from Jimmy. “He’s been a really good boy this year!”

Letting out a small laugh, you look around while Tess helps get Finn into Santa’s arms, and you smile when you see Grace and Tony holding hands as they walk through the crowd. You watch them as they walk closer to John, and he smiles when he turns and looks at you, then he introduces them to your mom.

“Ho, ho, ho!” Santa says loudly, which scares the absolute shit out of Finn, and he starts to cry and reach out for Jimmy. “Oh, no, Santa didn’t mean to scare you.”

Jimmy laughs as he reaches out for Finn, “He’s alright. Thank you, Santa.”

“Yeah, thanks, Santa. Now that kid won’t stop crying.” Tess says under her breath as you all walk back over to meet your mom and John.

John holds up a corndog for you and smiles, “Got you something to eat.”

“Ugh, thank you. I’m starving.” you smile, then you take a bite and offer some to John. You take a few more bites of it, then you give the rest to John since you definitely ate way too fast.

Reaching for your hand, John pulls you closer and wraps his arm around your shoulder, then he leans down to kiss you. You’re feeling a lot more tired than usual, but today has been a long ass day with the cleaning and shopping you had to do for Christmas. You just want to get home and crawl in bed with John.

You place your hand on your stomach when you start to feel a little queasy, but you swallow it down and continue walking down the pathway with John. Tess looks over at you and cocks her eyebrow up when you furrow your brow a little, then she quietly gasps and grabs your arm.

“Uh, I…I need to talk to her.” Tess says to John, and he lets go of you and smiles before he keeps walking. Tess pulls you off the pathway and into the snow, then she widens her eyes and looks at you, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” you laugh quietly, “I think I’m getting the flu.”

Tess cocks her eyebrow up again and laughs, “Uh, are you sure? Because…”

“I’m not pregnant. I can’t be.” you shake your head and look at her, “I mean, my ovulation day was…two weeks ago.”

“Yeah!” Tess laughs, “You two have been trying like crazy!”

You take a deep breath as you look over at her, then you widen your eyes and look around for a trash can. You immediately run over to it and tilt your head inside, then you vomit twice as Tess rubs your back.

“I just ate something that my stomach doesn’t agree with,” you say firmly as you look at her. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Tess nods, then she grabs some napkins from the hot chocolate booth to wipe off your mouth. “But I mean, we know that’s not true, right?”

You wipe off your mouth and toss the napkins into the trash, “Um, I don’t know.”

“Look, I know you’re scared. Negative tests aren’t fun.” Tess says as she reaches for your hand, “But don’t lie, you know you’re a little excited at the thought.”

A smile spreads across your face as you look at her, then you tear up and look away, “I obviously want this to be it, but I don’t know. I really think I just caught the flu.”

“Hey!” John calls out to you and wave you over, and you put your finger up and smile.

You look back at Tess and inhale deeply, “I have the flu.”

“Sure.” Tess nods as she walks away, then she laughs, “Sure, you do.”

John smiles as you walk back over to him, and he reaches out for your hand and presses to kiss to it when he feels your fingers are like little popsicles. He rubs them between his hands to warm them up, then he presses kisses to them over and over as you laugh.

“You’re freezing.”

“Just my fingers,” you laugh as you put your gloves back on, “Just because I took my gloves off for a minute, otherwise I feel fine.”

John zips your jacket up more and pulls your stocking cap down so it’s nearly over your eyes, and you groan loudly as you push it out of your face. A smile spreads across John’s face as he looks down at you, and you reach up and pull his stocking cap over his eyes before you run away from him.

“So…” your mom looks over at you and smiles, and you can tell she wants to ask how about the whole baby thing is coming along, but she’s too sweet to be so upfront about it.

“No baby yet.” you shake your head and shrug, “Soon, we hope. We’re trying not to get stressed out about it, and I even talked to my doctor and she told me to track my ovulation with this app, so that’s what we’re doing.”

John smiles as he stands next to you, then he reaches down and rubs your stomach, “Who knows? There could be a baby in there.”

You scoff loudly, “He says that every month. It’s been two weeks since my ovulation day, so calm down.”

“Do you even know at two weeks?” Jimmy chimes as he sips on a cup of hot chocolate.

Your mom nods, “Some people do. Tess certainly didn’t know.”

“I did not,” she inhales deeply and laughs, “But once I realized that I was pregnant, it was like all the symptoms happened at once. I was clinging to the toilet one minute, I was hot and annoyed at everything -- not just Jimmy for once.”

Jimmy playfully nudges Tess’ shoulder, “Ha, ha.”

“Some people get tender breasts, mood swings, fatigue, oh, and a missed period.” your mom says, looking over at you.

You laugh as you roll your eyes playfully, “Well, I’ll be getting my period soon, so fingers crossed, right?”

“Fingers crossed that you don’t!” John says, and you let out a small laugh as you look at him. The smile on your face fades a little as you look at him, and he gives you a small nod, immediately changing the subject, “So, mom, how is everything back home?”

Holding tight to John’s hand, you continue walking with everyone through the festival, and Tess smirks as she looks over at you and looks down at your stomach. You smile as you hold her gaze, then you grip John’s hand a little tighter and smile as you look up at him.

__

John is in his office making the final calls to the employees to let them know that they don’t need to come into work until after the holidays, and you hear him laughing on the phone. You’re sure they’re more than happy to have the extra days off. You lean against the door frame and pull your arms around yourself, smiling as John talks on his phone.

“Yup, you’re scheduled for Monday the 6th at 11.” John says as he looks up at you, ogling you when he sees you in shorts and a tank top, and you playfully roll your eyes. He smiles and nods his head, “Okay, Tony. Enjoy your time off. Merry Christmas.”

You smile at John as he puts his phone down, “All done? I got the movie ready.”

“Yeah, I’m ready.” he says, getting up from his desk to walk over to you. He takes your hands and pulls you into his arms, then he gasps and leans back, “You’re warm.”

“I know,” you laugh as you back away from him, “Think I’m getting the flu.”

You look over your shoulder at John as he follows you to the living room, and he frowns at the thought of you being sick during Christmas.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Nah,” you wave it off and sit down on the couch, “I’ll be fine, and if I get the flu, I get the flu.”

John sighs softly, leaning down to kiss you, “Yeah, but we don’t want you to be sick.”

“I’ll be fine, baby.” you lean up to kiss John again, then you gesture to the TV, “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.”

“Yes! Let me change into my pajamas, then I’ll get some popcorn started.”

You nod your head as you look at him, then you inhale deeply and hold your breath until he’s upstairs and in the bedroom before you quickly shut yourself in the bathroom. You turn the faucet on as you lean over the toilet and dry-heave several times before you squeeze your eyes shut and cough. You spit a little in the toilet and sit up as you try to catch your breath.

“No puke?” you whisper to yourself, then you flush the toilet and look at yourself in the mirror, trying to convince yourself not to get your hopes up, “It’s just the flu.”

A knock at the door startles you, and you open the door and smile at John as you walk out. He steps back and furrows his brow a little, gesturing to the bathroom.

“You’re okay?”

You smile as you lean up to kiss him, “Of course.”

“Okay,” John eyes you a little as you walk past him, and he lets out a small laugh when you give him a funny look. “Just checking.”

John walks over to the pantry to get a bag of popcorn out, and you glance up at him every so often and wonder if he thinks there’s something going on with you other than just being sick. You’re trying your best to not get your hopes up, but you’re curious to know why you’re suddenly sick even though it’s pretty damn obvious -- again, not getting those hopes up though.

“Did you try to open one of your presents?” John asks, and you laugh loudly. “Because you know you’re not allowed to peek, mouse.”

“I did not try to open one of my gifts, I’m offended.”

John leans over the counter and holds your gaze as the sound of popcorn popping fills the kitchen. He squints his eyes playfully at you, and since he’s not onto the whole possibly being pregnant thing, you decide to play along.

“Fine!” you throw your arms up and laugh, “I tried to peek into the bag.”

“Peach!” John laughs as he walks over to you, and you smile as you tilt your head back to look at him, then he bends you over the counter and playfully spanks you, “Naughty.”

You smile as you turn around to look at him, then you shrug, “Oh, come on, just let me open one!”

“One,” he nods before walking over to his popcorn, “Just one, and it has to be that bag.”

Clapping your hands together, you smile at John as he gets his popcorn and M&Ms, then you walk over to grab a can of pop from the fridge and a bottle of water. You follow John into the living room with a smile on your face, and you immediately walk over to the Christmas tree.

“That one, only that one.” John says as you walk back over to the couch with it.

“Heavier than I thought.”

Sitting down on the couch next to John, you set the bag between the two of you, then you reach in and pull out something rectangular wrapped in red tissue paper. You look up at John as he smiles, then you pull the paper back to reveal the beautiful cover of Charlotte’s Web. The dark blue leather of the cover compliments the gold etching and writing, and there’s Charlotte, Wilbur and Fern right in the center of the cover.

You gasp as you look up at him, “Is this…”

“It’s yours.” he nods, scooting a little closer, “I’ve had it rebound for a while, but I just couldn’t do this etching of Charlotte and Wilbur on the leather myself, so I had to send it somewhere to get it done.”

“Baby, that’s Fern.” you chuckle as you look over at him, then you run your finger down the book where Charlotte is in, “Charlotte was the spider, remember?”

“Shit, yeah,” John laughs, looking down at his hands, “Sorry, I knew that, I’m just…I’m just nervous.”

Running your finger over the cover of the book, you bite your cheek as you begin to tear up. You’re already on the verge of tears, but when you open the cover and see John’s stamp on the inside, you immediately burst into tears.

“That’s so sweet,” you sniffle as you look over at him, “This is so beautiful. Thank you so much.”

John moves your hair off your shoulder and laughs as he rubs your back, “Why are you crying, sweetheart?”

You take the tissue that John is offering you, then you blow your nose and grab another tissue as John watches with a smile on his face. You take a deep breath and look over at him, but as soon as your eyes meet, you start to cry again. Hopefully you can stop being so damn emotional soon so John doesn’t get too suspicious.

“I’m sorry,” you laugh as John reaches over for your bottle of water and offers it to you. You quickly take a drink of it and inhale deeply to try to control your emotions, “Okay, I think I’m good now.”

John chuckles softly, rubbing his hand over your back, “You’re so sweet.”

“This means so much to me, and I know how much work you put into these books. I’ve been with you when you’ve worked on some these past few weeks, I know it takes a bit of work to get them just right.” you look down at your book and open it to see John’s stamp again, “Just knowing that you took the time to do this for me means so much, you have no idea. I love this, and it’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it.” John says softly as you look over at him, “I just didn’t want you to think I ruined it.”

You shake your head as you lean over to kiss him, “I told you that I wanted you to rebind it.”

“I know, but I didn’t want you to hate it.”

“I could never,” you whisper to him as you hold his gaze, “It’s beautiful.”

John smiles as he carefully takes the book from you, then he opens it and looks over at you, “Can’t wait to read this to our baby.”

“Yeah,” you cry as you nod your head, and John pulls you closer to his side, “I can’t wait.”

You close your eyes and try to control your emotions a little better since you don’t want John to be suspicious at all. You want him to be completely blindsided if you do end up being pregnant.

“Oh,” John sits up and grabs the bag, “There’s something else.”

Furrowing your brow, you sit cross-legged on the couch as John sets the bag in your lap, then you reach in and grab out the other gift. You pull the tissue paper off of it and smile wide as you look down at the original cover from your book that John has placed into a frame. You put your hand over your mouth when you see the small note from the inside cover that your mom had wrote to you in the frame too, and you smile as you read it.

Never hurry and never worry, my love. So proud to be your momma! Happy birthday, baby. Love always, mom.

You look over at John as he smiles and wipes away the tears on your cheeks, then he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight.

“The fact that you thought to save this…”

John leans back and nods, “I knew you’d want it, so I framed it. Thought we could put it in the baby’s room.”

You smile as you lean back to look at John, then you get up from the couch and nod towards to baby’s room. John happily hops up and reaches for your hand as the two of you head upstairs, and you press a kiss to the back of his hand when he looks at you.

Turning on the light in the bedroom, you immediately hold the frame up to figure out where to put it, then you shrug and look over at John.

“The theme is going to be moon and stars, so I don’t think I want this right smack dab in the middle of the room.”

John carefully takes the picture from you and holds it up near the closet, “How about here? Maybe we can get another little Charlotte’s Web picture and put it here too. And when you come in here, it’s not the first thing you look at, but it’s the last thing you see when you leave.”

“Yeah, I like it there.” you nod as John hands the picture to you, then he gets the hammer and quickly hammers a nail into the wall. John gestures to it and smiles, letting you be the one to hang it up, and you stand back and look at it, “First picture in the baby’s room is officially hung.”

Chuckling softly, John wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head, “Not even pregnant yet, and we already got a picture up.”

“Well, we have a few things already.” you say as you gesture to the other pictures, blankets, and stuffed animals the two of you have bought.

“Now we just need a baby!” John laughs, rubbing his hand over your stomach. He leans forward a little to look at you, then he puckers his lips and kisses you repeatedly until you’re laughing.

You lean back against John’s chest as the two of you look at the picture and hold each other for a few moments, and you discreetly move your hand to your stomach and rub it slowly as a smile spreads across your face.

Yeah, now we just need a baby.

__

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[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Breakable Heaven (pt. II) - p.l. dubois

Part I

Part two is here! Things start to heat up in this chapter, exciting stuff’s happening! I hope you guys like reading it as much as I’m loving writing - please slide into my inbox, let me know what you think! Reblogs are amazing too, it’s how we know people are liking what we’re putting out and helps to reach more people! (Plus it’s one of the joys of my life to read the tags. Seriously, so much fun.)

Part II (7.2k)

June 18 (fri)

“If we’re going to do this, we’ve got to sell it,” Laurel said, running a hand through her hair. “The fewer people who know the truth, the better.” 

Pierre nodded. “Agreed.” He sat back in his chair. “What do you think your parents will say?” 

Laurel laughed. “Uh, they think I’m seeing someone, actually.”

 “Oh?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded, “it was easier to just say I had a boyfriend than deal with their endless pestering, you know?” 

“So they’d buy it if you just told them you were getting married?” 

She shrugged. “I think so. You know we’re not particularly close, they haven’t met any of my boyfriends since I was in high school. So if I told them I was engaged, I don’t think they’d bat an eye, if I’m honest.” Pierre could sense there was more to the story, more that she wasn’t telling him, but he didn’t want to press. “What about yours?” she asked. 

“Well, we’ve got a couple options,” Pierre said, cracking a smile and leaning back into the cushions. “It was a drunken mistake.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “Then they’d just tell us to get a divorce.” 

“We fell in love after the first date.”

“Even less believable,” Laurel said, the corner of her lip twitching. 

“Or…,” Pierre said, kicking his feet up on the ottoman, a wicked grin on his face, “I got you pregnant and want to do the right thing.” 

Laurel snorted. “Little issue there.” 

“What?” 

“I’m not pregnant.”

Pierre ducked his head, blushing. “Right. There’s that.”

She nodded. “There’s that.” She tapped her fingers on the coffee table. “I’ve got it.” Pierre looked up. “We’ve been friends for a long time, couple years or something. Madeline went to York, so we met when you and Patrice came to visit. We realized we had feelings for each other a few months ago, everything moved super quickly since we already knew each other and had that foundation.”

“So we thought ‘why wait,’” Pierre finished. 

“Exactly,” Laurel said. “Why wait, if we already knew.”

“It’s a classic friends-to-lovers story, a tale as old as time,” he sighed wistfully. 

Laurel slapped his shoulder. “This is serious,” she said, but she was smiling all the same. “Okay, so we’ve at least got that worked out. Madeline and Patrice will obviously know, but other than that…” She trailed off. 

He nodded, and an understanding passed between them. “It’s a need-to-know basis.”

“It is.” Laurel shifted her laptop on the coffee table, squeezing closer to Pierre so he could see the screen. “So, we have to go down to the courthouse for a meeting with the court clerk who will perform the ceremony, bring birth certificates and ID, and —”

He glanced over at Laurel, her tongue caught between her teeth. “And?”

“You have to publish a declaration of intent to marry twenty days before the wedding. Online. In public.” 

Pierre looked oblivious. “So?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “So, it has the date of the wedding and our full names and our whole entire addresses. And in case you’ve forgotten, you’re kind of a professional hockey player.” 

He shrugged. “All due respect, Laurel, but,” he glanced at the website, “who actually checks these things?” He had a point there, she thought, but she wasn’t about to let him win. 

“But your address, you’re not worried about that getting out there?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted. “But my building’s got a receptionist and I’ve got locks on my doors. And plus,” Pierre added, “I’ve really never had much of a problem flying under the radar here. When I go back home, back to the suburbs, sure. And a little bit in Columbus, obviously. But there’s what, two million people in Montréal? I’m not on the Habs, so even the hockey fans here really couldn’t care less.”

She laughed. “Fair enough. Also, uh, living situation. We should probably talk about that.” 

“You’re moving in with me?” He said it like a question, but not as if it was something that would surprise him, or something he was opposed to. He said it like it was something he already knew the answer to. “I’ve got three rooms, plenty of space, Phil and Georgia would love to have a new sister. You and Piper would fit right in,” he said, reaching down to scratch her behind the ears. “Plus it’s got a great gym in the lobby, you can cancel your membership to that seedy place downtown with that trainer who always stares at you when you do weights.” Laurel’s ears perked up; she was surprised he remembered. She did have a gym downtown that she tried to make it to a few times a week, and there was that one creepy trainer, but she had only mentioned it to him once in passing. “Plus it has hot yoga once a week, and I know you’ve been dying to try.” That much was true. 

“At least let me help pay for rent,” she tried to bargain. 

“Nope!” he said, wincing a second later. “I didn’t mean it in like a patronizing way, I know you’re perfectly capable of pulling your own weight. I meant like I bought it outright, so there’s no rent to be paid. I’ll let you pay the electricity bill if you want?”

Laurel grinned. “That would make me feel better, thank you.” After looking at her computer for a minute, she spoke again. “How long have you had the apartment for?”

Pierre scratched his chin. “Couple years? I bought it after signing the contract this year. Some guys buy a Lamborghini, I bought an apartment. I don’t own the place in Columbus though.”

“How come?” Laurel asked, though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer. 

“Even with the contract, so much is up in the air. I could get traded in the middle of the season, or in the summer or whenever, and I don’t want to have just bought a house when I’ve got to move to Vancouver or wherever when the ink hasn’t even dried on the papers.”

This time, it was Laurel’s turn to leave with an unsaid question. “Is tomorrow good? To go down and get everything squared away at the courthouse?”

He bobbed his head. “Yeah, I’ve got some off-ice training in the morning, but any time after noon or so is good for me.”

Laurel nodded, making a few taps on her computer. “Okay, I’ve got us booked in at one, that good?”

“Yeah,” Pierre said, nodding in affirmation. “Now I’ve got to come up with an excuse to drive to my parents’ and get my birth certificate.”

---

It didn’t actually turn out to be all that difficult for Pierre; he made the drive back to Saint-Agathe-des-Monts later that afternoon, telling his parents he needed it to renew his health insurance card. He wasn’t sure they actually believed him, but his mom didn’t bat an eye before handing it over. Pierre spent the rest of the evening at home, cooking pasta, petting the dogs, and wondering what in the hell he had agreed to. He wasn’t second-guessing himself, not by a long-shot, but when she clicked that button to book their appointment, the gravity of the situation finally started to hit him. In less than a month, he was going to be getting married. 

June 19 (sat) 

Laurel met Pierre on the steps of the Montréal courthouse at a quarter to one the next day, clutching the straps of her tote like a lifeline. “Woah, Laurel, you’re holding that like you’ve got a bomb in there,” Pierre said. 

She flashed him a nervous smile. “No bomb, just very official very legal documents. Don’t want to lose it.” 

He held out his hand. “You ready?” 

Laurel was surprised at the gesture. Not shocked that he was being kind, but that he was cognizant enough to recognize that she was nervous, and wanted to do something about it. She took his hand. “Ready.”

It only took a minute to find the office, and a few more before the receptionist called them back to the clerk’s office. She introduced herself as Juliette Bergeron, congratulated them on their engagement, and asked to see the paperwork. Passports and birth certificates were handed over, signatures were signed on dotted lines, and half an hour later, they walked out of the courthouse with an appointment for a wedding on July 10. 

“Well, there’s that crossed off the checklist,” Laurel said, leaning up against the handrails as they stood on the courthouse steps. They had actually made a real checklist, a series of tasks on a shared Notes page of everything that needed to be completed before the wedding. Book the ceremony and post the public notice were done, but there were still a dozen-odd tasks left before they actually could get married. Starting with telling their parents. While they had developed as airtight a cover story as she supposed one could when they were committing what would charitably be referred to as citizenship fraud, they had agreed it was going to be far less messy to “come clean” as fiancés than after the wedding. Laurel had wanted to text them the news, or call so early they’d still be asleep and she could just avoid the conversation altogether, but Pierre had convinced her to FaceTime. “I know you guys aren’t super close, but I think they deserve that much, Laurel,” he had said, and he was right. Deep down, she knew he was right. 

“Ready?” Pierre asked, rubbing her back soothingly. 

Laurel flashed him a tight smile before pressing her mom’s contact. “As I’ll ever be.” Three agonizingly long rings later, her mom picked up. 

“Laurel? What are you doing calling, honey? Is everything okay?”

She let out a nervous giggle. “Does something have to be wrong for me to call my parents?”

“No,” Cheryl clucked, “but to be fair, you don’t call often.”

Laurel rubbed the back of her neck in discomfort. “That’s true. Uh, anyways, is dad there?”

“He’s in the kitchen,” her mom said, starting to catch onto the fact that maybe this wasn’t quite your run-of-the-mill check-in call. “What’s this all about, pumpkin?” 

The old term of endearment, one she hadn’t heard in years, brought tears to the corners of her eyes. “Can you call him in? I’d rather tell you both at the same time.”

Cheryl nodded, worry crossing her brow. “Doug? Laurel’s on the phone, she’s got something to tell us. Sounds important.”

“Coming,” Laurel heard her dad say in the background. A moment later, he padded into view. “Hey, Laurel, Mom said you’ve got some news?” 

Laurel nodded. “Yeah, just something I thought you guys should know. It’s not bad, you’re just going to be surprised, so I need you to keep an open mind, okay?”

“Who is he?” Doug asked, rubbing his forehead with an exasperated expression. 

She blanched. “He? Who’s he?” There’s no way he guessed...right?

“The jackass who got you pregnant, who else?” 

Laurel almost choked on her own spit. “Pregnant? Who said I’m pregnant? I’m not pregnant!”

Both of her parents let out an audible sigh of relief. “Well, Laurel, what conclusion did you expect us to jump to when you called us out of the blue and said you had important news?”

Laurel bit her lip; they had a point. “Fair. But, uh, rest assured, I’m not pregnant. I’m smarter than that.” She paused, steeling her nerves. “Remember that guy I told you I was seeing a few months ago?”

Her mom squinted like she was looking into the sun. “Vaguely? You didn’t really tell us much about him. Just that he was tall, nice, you met through friends.” It was a believable enough explanation back then, and Laurel was beyond grateful it dovetailed perfectly into the story she and Pierre had conjured up. “You didn’t even tell us his name.”

Laurel reached out her free hand, the one that wasn’t holding the phone, and made a grabby motion for his hand. He interlaced his fingers with hers. “Well, his name’s Pierre-Luc Dubois—”

Doug interrupted. “Very French.”

She grimaced. “I do live in Québec, Dad. But anyways, his name’s Pierre-Luc Dubois and we’re getting married.”

They sat still on the other end of the call, so still that if it weren’t for her mom’s rapid blinking she would have thought the call had been dropped. “Married?” her mom asked softly. 

“Yes, married.”

“How long have you even been seeing each other?” Doug asked, dumbfounded. 

“A little under six months. I know it’s not long, and I know it seems sudden, but we’ve known each other for a long time, you know? We met when I was still back in Toronto at university, Madeline introduced us.” Her parents nodded; Madeline, they knew. Madeline, they had met. Madeline, they trusted. “And we finally realized a little bit after New Year’s that we had feelings for each other, and it’s sort of been zero to a hundred ever since. We thought, if we knew we loved each other and we knew we were done looking, then what was the point of waiting for a year or two for it to be a ‘socially acceptable’ time to get married.” Laurel finished. 

Cheryl wrapped her hands around her mug of tea, eyelids still shooting rapid-fire blinks at the screen. “But, Laurel, we haven’t even met this boy, we barely know anything about him!”

Pierre squeezed her hand. “Actually, he’s just off-camera. Want to say hi, P?” 

He walked into view, waving politely at the screen. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Klerken, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Laurel’s had nothing but wonderful things to say.” A little flattery never hurt anybody, he thought. 

“Lovely to meet you, Pierre-Luc,” Cheryl said. “Forgive us if we’re still a little shocked, Laurel’s not normally one to spring things on us like this.”

He laughed. “Perfectly fair. I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to meet until now, but we’ve been trying to get used to the idea ourselves.”

Her dad leaned forward from his spot in the couch, giving Pierre as much of a once-over as he could from nearly 1500 miles away. “I’m not able to give you the normal talking-to I have with any of the other boys Laurel or Maggie have introduced us to, so this is going to have to do.” Maggie? Laurel had primed Pierre for the inevitable grilling, telling him that if it was anything like it had been in the past, it would be all bark and no bite. “So what do you do for work, Pierre-Luc?”

“I’m a professional hockey player in the NHL, I play for the Columbus Blue Jackets.” 

Doug’s eyebrows went up. As much of a front as he tried to put up, he was still a middle-aged man from Minnesota, and there were few things that impressed middle-aged men from Minnesota more than their daughters being suddenly engaged to NHL players. “NHL, huh? That’s very impressive. So you’re from Québec, then?”

“Yes, sir,” Pierre answered. “My hometown’s a little outside of the city, but I live in Montréal now. My mom’s from Georgia, though, so I’ve got dual citizenship and some family still down there.” 

Her parents didn’t take too kindly to the news that the wedding was in three weeks, since it was too tight a fit to be able to get time off, but promised to visit later in the summer to make a proper introduction to their new son-in-law. Her father continued to pepper him with questions about his hobbies, family, and how he takes his steak — according to the Doug Klerken rules, any man who orders anything above medium is not to be trusted — until Laurel mercifully cut him off, telling her parents they were late to meet up with some friends. “That wasn’t so bad,” Pierre said as Laurel slipped her phone into her purse, immediately plugging it into her portable charger as the FaceTime had drained all but 18% of her battery. 

Laurel made a face. “They’re good people and they care about me, but…” She trailed off. “They never really understood why I’d want anything more than I was given. Anything more than the status quo. And it’s just caused a lot of friction between us.” Her eyes flashed as she remembered something. “One more thing.” Pierre’s ears perked up. “If and when you ever talk to my parents again, just...don’t bring up politics.” Laurel grimaced. 

“Republicans?” he asked sympathetically. 

She nodded. “Trump-supporting Republicans. It’s another one of the reasons we don’t talk much anymore. I’m liberal, I’d probably be NDP if I could vote here, and we just don’t share the same values on a lot of things.”

“That’s got to be pretty rough on you,” Pierre said.

“Yeah,” Laurel admitted. “Probably more than I want to let on, but I think it helps that I’m able to get some distance.”

Pierre took a deep breath in. “Your, uh, your dad mentioned something that I wanted to ask you about.” 

Shit. Laurel had been able to avoid the conversation for long enough, but she was beginning to push her luck, and she couldn’t run forever. “Maggie?”

He nodded. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but I thought I should ask.”

“Yeah, no, I get it,” Laurel said. “Um, long story short, Maggie’s my sister. It’s July, so…” she did the mental math in her head, “she’d be almost 31. Total free spirit. She left town pretty soon after she graduated, came back every so often but not nearly enough. Last I heard, she was an au pair in Italy.”

“And when was that?”

“Two years ago.” Pierre figured that was as good a time as any to drop the subject, so he did. They had decided that, while they were still downtown, it would be a good opportunity to get the ring shopping out of the way. Pierre looked up the highest-rated jewelry store on Yelp, and they set off on foot. 

Pierre opened the door for her as they stepped inside, greeted by a slightly over-enthusiastic salesman. “You paid for the ceremony fee, so I’m paying for the rings, okay?”

Laurel scoffed. “Hardly a fair trade, don’t you think?”

“I’ll live,” he said, smirking. 

Laurel had been wandering around by the solitaires for a few minutes when Pierre walked up behind her. “I know this isn’t going to be the wedding you’ve always dreamed of,” Pierre said, “but we’re going to make it the best we can.” He looked down at the cases, Laurel’s fingers dancing over the edge of the glass cover. “When you were in high school, or university, did you ever think about what kind of wedding you wanted?” Laurel gave a small nod. “And what kind of ring did you have?”

“I’ve always liked halo cuts,” she said softly.

Pierre inched his hand towards hers, wrapping his fingers around hers. They tensed for a second, but then relaxed into his grip. “Then let’s go get you that halo cut.”

There was no one else in the store aside from the salesman, so the couple was enveloped in a comfortable silence as they browsed. Her eyes stopped on a beautiful floral halo ring with an oval diamond. Pierre nodded to the salesman, who carefully took it off of its stand and handed it to Pierre, who carefully wiggled it onto Laurel’s fourth finger. If she closed her eyes, she was almost able to pretend that it was a proposal. Laurel brought her thumb to the ring, delicately running it over the pavé band with the ghost of a smile on her face. “What do you think?” Pierre asked, as if he couldn’t already tell her answer from the look on her face. 

Laurel looked up at him. “I love it. It fits perfectly.”

“Like Cinderella’s slipper.” He turned to the salesman. “Combien ça coûte?” (How much does it cost?) Laurel heard a number that made her swallow hard, more than anything she’d ever have bought for herself, but Pierre insisted it was a non-issue as he handed his card over. “He said that they’ve got another sample one in the back, and you’re welcome to just wear that one out if it fits.”

“Sounds good.” The salesman handed over the bag with Pierre’s ring and her matching wedding band, thanking them for their purchase before opening the door back into the sunny Montréal afternoon. Laurel craned her neck to try and sneak a peek inside the bag. “Don’t I get to see yours?”

Pierre cracked a wry grin. “Gotta wait until the wedding, babe. Can’t a man have a little mystery?”

“Fair enough,” Laurel said, not missing his use of the pet name but brushing it off as simply a spur-of-the-moment choice. “Do you want to do the honors?” she asked, referring to the all-important checklist. 

Pierre opened his phone with his spare hand, deftly navigating to the app and tapping twice. “Four down, seven to go. We’re on a roll. 

June 24 (thurs)

Surprisingly, telling Pierre-Luc’s parents hadn’t been nearly as intimidating as breaking the news to her own, at least for Laurel. They were shocked — and confused, and had a lot of questions — but were welcoming nonetheless. Patrice was almost like a second son to them, and the fact that she already came with his stamp of approval went a long way into calming them down. “He’s always been quite the romantic, the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. And he cares deeply about the people in his life. That’s you, now,” his mom had said. They drove up to meet them that Sunday, having brunch in his childhood home. That was, in essence, their first real “test” as a couple. They had never had to sell their relationship to anyone before; even when going out with Madeline and Patrice after their “engagement,” nothing ever seemed like it had changed. This time was different. This time had to be different.

His mom fawned over her engagement ring, asking her to spare no details in retelling the story of the proposal. Lucky for her, however, Laurel was the former president of the University of Toronto improv club, and coming up with background stories with exactly zero minutes to prepare was something of a specialty for her. Laurel immediately gushed about how unexpected it was; she was just expecting an evening walk through downtown until they turned down one of the piers by the basilica, reached the end overlooking the river, and Pierre dropped down on one knee. “I think I knew that he was the one way sooner than that, but it’s nice to finally have it be official,” she had said. 

Laurel shook herself out of her memories, turning the door into the locker room. She grabbed a pair of scrubs out of her shared locker — she had never met Alice, the other nurse who used it, but they had made a habit of leaving each other Post-it note greetings — and stripped off her t-shirt and jeans. Shimmying on her scrub pants, she tied them, leaning back into the locker to get her bag as the door shut behind her. She glanced over to the door, waving to Claire. Claire was sweet, a transplant from Vancouver who had lived in Québec as a child and decided to come back to work. She was sweet, having just started working at the beginning of the summer, but she was young, even younger than Laurel. And while her perky and energetic nature lent itself well to the dynamics of the floor, it was a lot for her to get used to. “Hey!” Laurel said, waving as she pulled a chain out of her purse, trying to discreetly unhook it. 

“Hey!” Claire responded, perky as ever. “How has your week been?” She worked Mondays and Thursdays with Laurel, but had the Saturday night shift as well. 

Laurel threw her hair up into a bun. “Good, good, busy. Met up with some friends yesterday, so that was nice, but not much. Took Piper to the dog park.” With my fiancé, she neglected to add. She twisted her ring off, trying to slip it onto the chain without Claire noticing. Like most of her married colleagues, Laurel had taken to wearing her engagement ring on a chain around her neck while at work instead of on her finger. It was under her scrubs most of the time, keeping at bay the questions she wasn’t yet ready to answer, and made it much easier to pull on and off gloves when the occasion called for it. But Claire was eagle-eyed, catching the sparkle of the diamond just as she slid it onto the chain.

She audibly gasped. “Is that an engagement ring?” 

Laurel had to think fast; once again, her improv skills were called up to bat. “No? It’s, uh, it’s a family heirloom, it was my grandma’s. Guess I didn’t think too much about which finger I put it on.” She could tell Claire didn’t quite believe her side of the story, but thankfully, she didn’t press. 

“If you say so,” she said, giving a not-so-subtle wink. 

June 27 (sun)

Laurel was sat in her living room, her TV on in the background as she scrolled absent-mindedly through her phone, savoring her last few hours before she had to go to bed for her 5:30 wake-up call. On a whim, she opened her Twitter. It wasn’t an app she used all that often — mostly just to keep in contact with the handful of high school and college friends who didn’t use Instagram — and she was well aware that she’d probably have to limit her use for her own sanity when she and Pierre went “public” after the wedding, but she liked being able to keep up with everyone. She followed her friends, a handful of celebrities and a few journalists, but her timeline wasn’t flooded with updates. Then she saw the little blue alert on the bottom. One new message. Clicking to her inbox, Laurel saw that it had been sent by Madeline four minutes earlier, a link to a tweet that just had the caption: “you should probably see this.”

Chewing the inside of her cheek, Laurel pressed the link. What could be so important that Madeline would have sent a message with that kind of urgency? And why didn’t she just text it? God, I hate puckbunny blogs, Laurel thought as she read the handle. Her eyes raced across the screen. So I was looking up the address of my friend’s wedding earlier since I lost my invitation and didn’t want to tell her, and saw this under??? I know he can be a private guy, but tell me you guys don’t think this is for PLD. Her eyes froze as soon as she finished reading, praying that somehow they were talking about a different PLD, that they hadn’t been found out and their cover hadn’t been blown and she wasn’t about to have a panic attack for the first time since junior year  — and then she saw the screenshot. Of their wedding announcement. Their public wedding announcement that not only had their full names and places of birth, but the location of the ceremony, the time, and their addresses. God, this is exactly what Laurel had been worried about. She immediately reported the tweet for exposing personal information, then made the poor decision to look at the comments section. Some people insisted it was legitimate, some convinced it was just photoshop, some were convinced that it couldn’t be Pierre-Luc even it looked like him, because he was training in Columbus for the summer, right? Thank God, it didn’t seem like anyone had done a deep enough dive to figure out who she was; there weren’t any screenshots of her accounts or photos of her in the comments section. It was eight minutes from the time she reported it to when it was taken down, and while Laurel was grateful for the quick response, she felt like she was on a cliffside, one foot off of the edge, until it had been deleted. 

Her phone lit up with a text notification from Pierre. Funny thing happened today. 

Oh God, Laurel thought. Had he seen it? He hadn’t.

My mom asked what you were planning to do about flowers and got very upset when I said we didn’t have any plans. She let out a tense breath. Flowers, she could do. She wanted to get your number to send over the names of a few florists she knows in the area, but I thought I should check with you first to make sure that’s okay. 

Laurel smiled, her right hand draped over the side of the couch to scratch Piper behind the ears. That sounds great, P. 

As promised, his mom texted Laurel soon after, coming armed with recommendations of Montréal florists. She echoed her son’s words almost identically; You deserve to have the wedding you’ve always dreamed of even if the circumstances are different, she had written. Her eyes pricked with tears as she fell asleep. 

July 3 (sun)

It was a week before the wedding, and Laurel had started to pack up her apartment. It seemed much more practical to do it in stages then try to finish everything the weekend of the wedding. So she sat with Pierre on the floor of her bedroom, moving boxes between them as they packed away into the next season of her life. Some things, she obviously couldn’t put away yet — she still needed clothes and toothpaste, and they hadn’t been able to get all of her pots and pans down to the Goodwill yet. But books and keepsakes could be boxed up, and unless there was a snowstorm in July, she didn’t need her parka either. 

“Oh, what’s this?” Pierre asked as he pulled a few more volumes off of her bookshelf. Laurel groaned  when she saw what was in his hand. 

“The 2013 Cloquet Senior High School yearbook. My sophomore year.”

He burst out laughing. “This, I’ve got to see.” He opened the cover. “Your mascot was the Lumberjacks?”

Laurel ducked her head, her cheeks heating. “Regrettably, yes. That’s what happens when your whole area used to be milling towns.”

Pierre’s brows furrowed. “I thought you said everything was about the mines, doesn’t your dad work in the mines?”

“He does,” Laurel said. “They had to figure out something to do after all of the trees had been cut down, you know?”

Pierre got the feeling it was really more of a rhetorical question. “What was your school like?” 

She placed one of her old Harry Potter books into the box. “Small is the first word that comes to mind. My graduating class couldn’t have been much bigger than 150 or so? We’d get snow days a couple of times a year, most of the time if it wasn’t a blizzard everyone would end up going down to the school anyways, we’d all have big snowball fights on the football field. Actually,” she said, pulling out her phone from her back pocket, “I think I might still have a clip of one.” She pulled up her videos, scooting over to Pierre and leaning into his side so he could see the screen. Raucous laughter filtered through the speakers; the only things in sight were snow forts and the tiniest bits of beanies peeking over the top. 

“THIS. IS. WAR!” 

Laurel snickered. “I think that sounds like Nicholas, he was the varsity quarterback for a few years. Usually was the one leading the sieges.” She put her phone away a minute later after the clip ended. “But other than that? There were actually a lot of pretty interesting elective classes, I got to take photography, work in the preschool on campus, take a class on Anishinaabe studies.”

“Anishinaabe?” Pierre questioned. 

“There’s a Native American reservation in town, the tribe’s Ojibwe so that’s the language family we studied. A lot of kids at the school, including one of my best friends Kristen, live on the reservation, so I think they wanted to not only have the class available for Native students who maybe wanted to learn more about their culture, but also for non-Native kids like me, so we’re able to gain a respect for whose land we’re living on,” Laurel explained. 

“Makes sense,” he said, flipping through the pages. He snorted. “This photo might be the best thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Laurel peeked over his shoulder, cringing at her school picture. “I really couldn’t have dressed any more 2012 if I tried, Pierre. Aggressively off-the-shoulder top, one of those godforsaken hair feathers, I bet you’d find dark wash skinny jeans if you could see from the waist down.”

“Hey, don’t talk about my fiancée like that,” Pierre said. “I like the look, I swear. You were such a cute kid, oh my God.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know. What happened to me, right?”

He looked at her from the side. “Nope.”

 June 9 (fri)

 It was the day before the wedding, and Laurel was trying to find a dress. She had been planning on wearing one — even if it was a courthouse wedding, she still wanted to look nice — but then she had spilled red wine onto the light blue one she had been thinking of wearing as she ironed it in the living room, and she didn’t want to put all of her eggs in one basket if the Oxiclean didn’t end up working. She called Madeline in a panic, who promised to be over as soon as she could with a few dresses of her own to see what she could do. There was a knock on the door, and Laurel practically flew across the room to fling it open, gathering Madeline in a hug even before she had crossed the threshold. Madeline patted her clumsily on the back. “There, there, Laur. It’s going to be okay, we’re going to fix it.”

Laurel ran one hand through her hair, her curls as frazzled as her mind. “It’s got to be. Half of my stuff’s already over at P’s place, what, do you want me to wear a,” she opened up her dresser, eyeing its meager contents, “bralette and lacy thong to my own wedding?”

Madeline shrugged. “I doubt Pierre would mind,” she said casually. 

Laurel almost choked on her own spit. “What do you mean?”

“Men are visual creatures, and you’re hot as hell, Laurel,” she stated matter-of-factly. 

“Still,” Laurel said, opening her closet and grabbing every single left over dress from its hanger, trying to distract herself from Madeline’s words, “I’d rather not be arrested for public indecency. I’m trying to stay in the country, remember?”

Madeline rolled her eyes. “I remember.” She thumbed through the dresses on Laurel’s bed. “You’re not wearing a black dress to get married,” she said pointedly. 

“It’s pretty?” Laurel tried to reason.

“It is, but it’s a wedding, not a funeral.” She moved onto the next one. “Bright red bodycon is great for the club, but not sure coquettish seductress is the look you’re going for.” The next one was a striped sweater dress; it was the middle of summer, so according to Madeline, that meant it was out. There was a navy shift dress that “could work, but it’s a little too much work and not enough play,” her friend had said. Laurel tried on Madeline’s dresses, but seeing as how she had three inches on her, the hemlines weren’t exactly in her favor. Madeline pulled out the last of the stack, gasping softly. “This one’s beautiful, where’s it from?”

Madeline looked at it, a knee-length ivory lace dress, rolling her eyes good-naturedly at Madeline. “It was for Aurélie’s bachelorette party last year, probably explains. You were drunk off your ass that night.”

“I’m hurt by that characterization, but I don’t remember enough to correct you,” Madeline said. “It’s perfect though, why didn’t you choose this one in the first place?”

Laurel rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m not sure?” Madeline gave her a look. “Fine, it just seems...It seems too much like an actual wedding dress. It’s white, or close enough, anyways,” she noted, fingering one of the delicate straps, “and gorgeous, and formal, and I’m worried if I wear it it’ll seem too real, and I’ll start thinking this is more than it is. Because all it is at the end of the day is a friend doing me a really, really big favor,” she finished, huffing and falling back onto her mattress. 

“At the end of the day, it’s still a wedding,” Madeline corrected, laying down next to her. “And you’re still a bride and he’s still a groom and you deserve to feel beautiful and cherished and special on your wedding day, no matter its circumstances. And who knows? Maybe you two stay married, and fall in love, and you live happily ever after with your half-dozen dogs and 2.5 kids on some farm out in the suburbs.”

Laurel snorted. “As if.” But two hours later, long after Madeline had already left, she sat back on the bed, hand ghosting over the lace of her now-wedding dress, thinking that maybe, just maybe, Madeline had a point.  

June 10 (sat) 

It was the morning of the wedding, and Laurel was pacing her room in her sweatpants, Piper looking at her in confusion from the doorway. It was just past 7 and the appointment wasn’t until 10, but she still had to get dressed and do her hair and makeup and pick up the flowers and eat and — her internal monologue was interrupted by the doorbell. Still half-asleep, she ambled over to the door, pulling it open without even really checking to see who it was. 

“Surprise!!” Patrice shouted, walking through the door, followed by Madeline and Pierre. “Madeline mentioned that you seemed a bit overwhelmed yesterday, so we thought we’d come over and get ready over here!” 

Laurel shuffled out of the way as Piper jumped on Pierre, who laughed and calmed her down with a few scratches on her chin. She had really taken a liking to him and his two dogs, which had initially been a point of nervousness for Laurel. But they got along great, shared space well, and she seemed to love her new brother and sister. “That’s really nice of you guys, I appreciate it,” she said sincerely. “Um, I don’t have much food left because of the move, but I think there’s some cereal in the cupboard?” 

“Silly you,” Pierre said, holding out a paper bag. “Did you think I’d leave my bride hungry on our wedding day? I got you sourdough french toast, should be on the top.” They had gone out to brunch once and she had ordered it, audibly moaning at how incredible it tasted. He remembered. 

“And raspberry mochas!” Madeline said, presenting her with a cup. 

Laurel took it, wrapping her spare arm around Madeline and kissing Pierre on the cheek. “This is incredible, guys. Really. I didn’t expect anything like this.”

“Exactly!” Madeline said, a perky expression on her face. “It’s a surprise!” She drifted into the kitchen, pulling out plates from Laurel’s cabinet and forks from her drawers. “Breakfast is served!”

Laurel let out a laugh as she grabbed the box with her french toast, taking a sip of her mocha. “I think the credit goes to the chefs at the restaurant, but whatever you say, Madi.”

Madeline rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but we ordered it. 

By the time they had all inhaled their breakfasts and cleaned the kitchen — Laurel and Pierre tag-teamed the dishes — it was almost eight, and Madeline whisked her into her room to get ready. “There should be a couple beers in the fridge, help yourselves!” Laurel shouted out the door as Madeline tried to wrestle her into the ensuite. For the most part, Madeline was good at listening to Laurel’s pleas against a dramatic makeup look. Muted rose lipstick, filled in her eyebrows, delicately pulled back her hair into a twisted bun. “Where’s your setting spray?” Madeline asked, rooting through her makeup bag. 

“Top drawer on the left. Are you finally going to let me see?”

Madeline pulled the drawer out, uncapping the bottle and spritzing it over Laurel’s face. “Go for it.”

Laurel turned around, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. “Oh my God,” she said, turning her head so the glimmer of her highlighter caught in the early-morning sun streaming through the open window. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Don’t say that until you’ve put the dress on,” Madeline said, pulling it off of its hanger and draping it across the chair. Sweats came off and the dress went on, Madeline carefully pulling up the back zipper and straightening out her hem. Laurel bent down to put on her shoes, threading the silver straps through the tiny metal clasp before giving her leg a good shake. Madeline looked at her sceptically. 

“What?” Laurel asked innocently. “I don’t want it to fall off halfway down the aisle.” 

There was a knock on the bedroom door, Patrice’s voice floating in from the other side. “It’s 9:20, you two about ready to head out?”

“Coming!” Madeline called back, pulling Laurel up from the bed. “You ready, Laur?” Laurel gave a nervous nod. “Let’s go get you married.”

She stepped out into the living room, reaching up to her neck and fingering the silver filigree of her grandma’s wedding necklace, one of the only things she had left to remember her by. If she wasn’t able to complete the whole rhyme, at least she’d have her something old. “Who’s driving?” she asked. 

Pierre wheeled around, mouth gaping like a fish when he saw her. Laurel immediately looked down to her dress, wondering if she had spilled one of her pre-wedding mimosas. “What is it?” she asked frantically. “Is there something in my teeth?”

He shook his head, tugging at the sleeves of his navy blue suit. “No, there’s nothing in your teeth, it’s perfect. You look beautiful.” They were in the car five minutes later, picked up the bouquet from the florist five minutes after that, and were outside of the courthouse by 9:50. Laurel took a deep breath, looking up at the glass doors of the Palais de Justice. Pierre threaded his fingers between hers, giving a reassuring squeeze. “You good?”

Laurel nodded, nervous but determined, sure that she was making the right decision. “Ready.” She barely remembered signing in, barely remembered going back to the clerk’s office, barely remembered her reading the mandated articles of the civil code. She gripped Pierre’s hands, giving him as much of a reassuring smile as she could, as the vows were read. 

“Pierre-Luc Dubois, do you take Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, here present, to be your wife?” Juliette asked. 

“I do.”

“Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, do you take Pierre-Luc Dubois, here present, to be your husband?”

“I do,” Laurel said, voice steady. 

Juliette continued. “By virtue of the powers vested in me by law, I now declare you, Pierre-Luc Dubois, and you, Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, united in the bonds of marriage.” Patrice passed over the rings; Laurel slid Pierre’s onto his ring finger, he gently twisted hers to rest on top of her engagement ring. “You are now legally married. Allow me, on my own behalf and on behalf of all those present, to offer you our best wishes for your happiness. You may now kiss the bride.”

Laurel panicked for a moment, before looking up and meeting Pierre’s eyes. In the span of a second, she communicated her unspoken agreement with the tiniest nod of her head, and his lips were on hers. His arms were against the small of her back, hers wrapped around his neck, and even enough it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, it felt like hours. It felt like coming home.

[rumpledgoldenweaver]

A Weekend Away

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling February prompt “I think we’re lost”. Also @fluffapalooza if it’s still open :) Read it on my blog: https://earlyrisingwriting.home.blog/2021/02/14/a-weekend-away/

An opportunity arises for the Gold Boys to spend time together away from Storybrooke’s prying eyes.

Malcolm Gold – he’d adopted his son’s cursed surname, Stiltskin didn’t seem right, it only served to remind him of the anger he’d felt when naming his baby boy. He didn’t want anything to do with the name Peter Pan any more, Gold was a fresh start – was beginning to rue the day he’d agreed to joining his rapidly expanding family for a weekend at Rumple’s forest cabin. It’s like the tree houses in Neverland Neal had explained but on the ground. It’ll be fun Papa, his son had told him through obviously gritted teeth, Malcolm hadn’t missed the discreet elbow to the ribs Rumple had taken from Belle as she’d added that it would be an opportunity to talk away from the scrutiny of the towns folk. Henry had kept a commendable straight face at that remark considering she was referring to at least half of his family. Malcolm liked Belle. She was honest, trusting but not to be crossed. Just what his son needed to keep him in line. It was mainly because of her he’d agreed to come along.  

Malcolm had also been grateful to Belle for her advice regarding clothing in this new land. Although Rumple’s suits looked sharp, he didn’t want that many layers. Neal’s clothes were a bit too casual so he settled on trousers Henry had called Chinos, shirts with buttons, thin jumpers and boots called Timberland. Today he was particularly glad of the boots. Rumple had used magic to transport all the necessary clothes, food etc to the cabin, leaving Malcolm, Neal and Henry free to arrive on foot. Henry had been so excited at the thought of a hike through the forest with his Dad, no one had the heart to object.

“I think we’re lost” Malcolm tried to get his bearings however the trees all looked the same, he had no idea how far into the the forest they were.

“Lost Boys” sniggered Neal. Henry snorted which made his father laugh even more.

“Following the leader, the leader, the leader” sang Henry “We’re following the leader…”

“Wherever he may go” Neal joined in, the two of them dancing round in a circle.

“Very funny”

“You have no idea” laughed Neal “Have you seen the Disney film about Peter Pan yet?”

“The what?” Malcolm was still bemused by the popular cultures of the world he now lived in even though he’d got a better grasp of how it actually worked.

Henry grinned the kind of wicked grin Rumple would have been proud of “You’ll love it Gramps, especially Hook”

Neal’s eyebrows rose at the use of Gramps in relation to Malcolm

“What? I call Rumple Grandpa and Malcolm didn’t like Great Grandpa so Mum suggested Gramps”

“Which Mum?” though Neal had his suspicions

Henry didn’t answer but the glint in his eye was enough. Emma had an evil sense of humour.

“One of you must have been to this cabin before?”

“Neal shook his head “I arrived in town not long before the trip to Neverland but Papa and I weren’t exactly on friendly terms back then”

“I haven’t been either, I didn’t know Grandpa was my Grandpa and my mums weren’t about to let me hang out with The Dark One”

“Wonderful”

Neal looked around for minute or two, then as if some secret signal had been given he made an abrupt turn and set off down a path “Come on. It’s this way”

~

“Rumple will you please stop fussing. We have enough food to survive a small siege. There is no need to summon more”

“Have you ever fed a twelve year old boy? If his appetite is anything like Bae’s at that age then…” he felt a lump rise in his throat.

“Rumple?”

“Then I want to make sure there’s plenty”

“Oh Rumple” she hugged him hoping to both reassure and pull him out of this melancholy. He pulled her closer, nuzzling her hair, whispering a thank you sweetheart. Belle moved to kiss him and for the next couple of minutes there was a feeling of peace between them.

“Hi Grandpa Hi Belle sorry we’re.. oh…” Henry looked embarrassed at interrupting.  Belle giggled, Rumple never even turned round as he replied “Hi Henry”

“Are they here?” Neal’s voice carried through the door.

“Er...yes…they are.. here…”

“Is something up?” Neal strode into the living room and stopped dead “Oh for pities sake you two get a room!”

Rumple did turn this time “This is my cabin Bae and my room”

“Not in front of the wee ones eh Laddie?” Malcolm chuckled.

“Indeed”

“Rumple..” there was a warning tone to Belle’s voice “remember what we talked about”

“Hmm”

Ever the diplomat Henry piped up “Is there anything to eat? I’m starving”

“Yes of course Henry” smiled Belle “in the kitchen”

The young boy disappeared, returning within five minutes carrying a plate loaded with burger, fries, onion rings, various dips and salad. Rumple gave Belle a told you so look.

“He obviously appreciates his food” Malcolm watched in amusement at Henry giving the burger his full attention.

“Takes after his father” Rumple nodded towards Neal as he too went to the kitchen and brought back a plate piled high.

Conversation remained light hearted as they ate, comments about both Neal and Henry having hollow legs because of their hearty appetites. Rumple found he was nearly enjoying himself. Nearly being better than not at all as Belle reminded him earlier.

“Where on earth did all the food come from anyway?” Malcolm asked as he debated which of the many desserts to try.

“I summoned it” Rumple replied reaching for a cupcake.

“Magic” Neal raised a suspicions eyebrow.

“Only to bring it here. It’s not magic food. I’ve paid Granny’s chef triple his wages to cook a steady supply especially for us”

“Fair enough” Neal took a satisfied mouthful of cake.

“More tea anyone?” Belle stood up and began collecting the various cups and mugs strewn around the room

“Coffee if you have it please”

“Of course Bae, I’ll put the pot on. Coffee has it’s own magic Dearie” he twirled his arms, turned on his heel and practically skipped out after Belle.

The expression on Henry’s face was priceless.

~

When everyone had eaten their fill, plates, cups and cutlery washed, dried and put away by hand not magic Rumple keenly pointed out, Henry suggested they watch a film. Malcolm being particularly interested in the idea of a a “moving book” being shown on something called a TV screen. Then began the debate over which one to put on. Whilst there wasn’t a great deal of choice amongst the DVD’s at the cabin, Rumple would be happy to summon whichever was decided on. Mostly it was left to Neal and Henry as they had the widest knowledge of such things. It seemed to Malcolm to be a very complicated process.

“Nothing over a PG”

“Awww Dad! I’m twelve! I can watch..”

“No. Your Mothers would find a hundred ways to kill me, bring me back to life and kill me all over again if they found out you’d watched anything remotely inappropriate”

“Grandpa would protect you”

“Oh no no no” laughed Rumple “Do not bring me into this. I argued with both of them over many things but even I have limits”

“What about that.. Disney thing you mentioned on the way here? Would that be allowable?”

All eyes turned to Malcolm.

“You mean Peter Pan?” Henry looked sceptical.

“Yeah.. that. I’d like to see it”

Rumple and Belle exchanged a look before he got up and went into the main bedroom. There followed the sound of keys turning in locks and a safe being opened.

“You keep Disney DVD’s in a vault Papa?”

“Along with a few other items I was unsure about at first yes”

“Such as?”

“Such as none of your business son” he walked back into the living room brandishing the disc “You can do the honours Bae”

It could, Belle mused to herself long after everyone else had retired for the night, have gone a lot worse.  For instance everyone agreed that the physical resemblance between the cartoon and the person was actually rather accurate. They had all laughed like drains at Captain Hook. Belle honestly thought she’d have to give medical attention to Rumple and Malcolm as their hysterics gave way to mighty coughing fits. Neal and Henry sang along with the songs, Never Smile At A Crocodile didn’t go down very well with Rumple at first but he saw the funny side in the end. When it came to Following The Leader, the youngest father and son immediately leapt to their feet and began dancing round the room in a repeat of their antics in the forest earlier.

“So that’s where that song came from” groused Malcolm.

There seemed to be an unspoken agreement to not discuss certain details regarding film versus real life, for that Belle was grateful. She knew the relationships in that room were complicated, messy, quite possibly very unhealthy and could keep Archie Hopper on Rumple’s pay roll for decades. Whilst she believed talking about these issues was healthy, this weekend was not the time or the place. For once no one was arguing, for once certain townsfolk weren’t around to stick their well intentioned (or otherwise) noses in. She wondered if inviting her own father for a weekend here might help ease tensions between him and her boyfriend. Maybe leave it a month or so before she suggested that.

“What are you smirking at?” Rumple came from the en suite,  pulled the bed covers back and climbed in bed beside her. Her eyes gleamed with mischief.

“Don’t you dare Belle” he warned, which was the wrong thing to say because of course she dared.

“Never smile at a crocodile..”

“I’m warning you young lady”

“No you can’t get friendly with a crocodile…” she sang between giggles.

“Right then”

And he proceeded to show her how friendly crocodiles could be when they wanted to.

[slashiest-slasher]

michael, jason, billy lenz, brahms, and thomas hewitt with a s/o who's deceptively strong? like they go to manhandle them one day, or maybe there's a fight/argument and s/o just goes "lmao nope" and pick them or someone else up like a bratty cat????

this is such a fucking mood my dude. i do this to my friends all the time when they're being lil shits and standing in my way on purpose. just boop! pick 'em up and plop 'em down somewhere else | ￣︶￣|o but i'm a big ol' soft boy so is surprises them every single time

‘nother read more bc i physically cannot stop myself from writing hella lot. warnings for nsfw-ish bits with billy lenz and brahms

Michael Myers

- You must've done something to royally piss Michael off, because he has been trying to stab you all day. And normally, you would brush it off as him trying to spook you, but he had gotten a slash in on your thigh that stings like a fucking bitch.

- Okay Michael, you want to dance, then let's dance.

- The next time you see him he's coming at you with his knife, you're prepared. He doesn't expect you to tackle him around the middle, and hoist him over your shoulder like he was nothing but a sack of potatoes. It startles him enough that he drops his knife.

- And he doesn't expect to not be able to squirm out of the grasp you have on his wrists after you dump him on the couch and crawl on top of him.

- You had looked to weak, so pathetic. That was part of the reason Michael spared you in the first place. But now the tables have turned, and while Michael never really like relinquishing his power, to anyone he lets it go just this once. And whatever reason he thought of that made him want to kill you is forgotten.

- But you forget that Michael is stealthy, and thinks he's just as strong as as you are. So he can and will sneak up on you and pick you up. But you easily overpower him. You think he would learn from the first time, but Michael is determined to get one over you.

- The only time he finally, finally learns that you're stronger than him is when you hold him down and tie him to the bed, and have your wicked way with him. It might not entirely be a bad thing for you to be stronger than him.

- But that still doesn't change the fact that Michael thinks he's stronger than you.

Jason Voorhees

- Okay so, you could understand why Jason always wanted to kill the people that trespassed onto Camp Crystal Lake. It was his camp, and campers had killed his mother (even though it was out of self defense). And a lot of the people that came here were, frankly douchebags. But c'mon Jason, these are just some friends that want to go on a camping trip!

- And he outright ignores you, and locks you in your cabin, as if that's going to stop you. You get to the campers before him, because while he may know the lay of the land better, you are overall lighter and faster than him. All it takes is a warning of a serial killer on the loose and flashing a fake police badge for them to pack up and leave, heading to a motel you recommended.

- And Jason is /not/ happy. If he could yell, he would, but instead he grumbles and groans as loudly as he can and stamps his foot. Angry enough, it seems, to try and pick you up and wrangle you back to the cabin. But oh, ho, ho Jason! You're not in the mood for playing around!

- Jason is yet another victim of being effortlessly thrown over your shoulder, and he has no clue what's going on when it happens, until you're halfway back to the cabin. Even then, he's unable to squirm out of that iron clad grasp of yours until you let him go in the cabin, and decide that you're spending the night in town if Jason's going to be in a mood.

- He is absolutely flabbergasted, so shocked that he can't function until you're long gone.

- But you're so tiny. He was almost touching the ground even despite you carrying him. And even though he should feel indigated at the whole experience, it reminded him too much of his mother. Yes, Jason was always a well behaved boy, but there were occasions where he acted up and Pamela had to carry him to his room for a timeout.

- And Pamela recalls this fondly, and says that you're going to be such a good parent if the two of you ever got around to having kids together, even though Jason's pretty sure he can't even have kids with someone, let alone with you.

- Oh well, a mother can dream.

Billy Lenz

- Of course you know Billy's hiding up in the attic of the sorority, but it's not like you're going to spill the beans and tell anyone. Technically, you weren't supposed to be here either, but the girls were letting you crash here during the fallout of some dorm drama. There was an empty room they could never decide on someone to stay there, so it was all yours.

- And Billy loved breaking into your room in the middle of the night. Barb might've had a tongue on her, but you were the one ballsy enough to tell Billy "not to threaten you with a good time" and "put his money where his mouth is if he's man enough". And as far as the girls of the house knew, you had a secret boyfriend who you would have a go at in the middle of the night. Yeah, the people who couldn't sleep through it weren't happy about the noise, but no one suspected it was Billy who was making you moan like that.

- And you had told Billy to knock it off for the night, because everyone was drinking, and everyone was passed out in the living room. And even though they sleeping solidly, Billy knew how loud you got when he slipped his hand in your pants and played with you, let alone his mouth. He was crouching between your legs, trying to shimmy your trousers off, and licking his lips as his mouth watered, so you knew exactly how this was going to go.

- Phyl was starting to shift and groan, so there was no time to waste. Pulling your pants back up and buttoning them as quickly as you could, you tossed Billy over your shoulder in a fireman's carry and sprinted up the stairs, and crawled up into the attic without so much as batting an eye.

- Billy however, oh dear Billy was so shocked that until you dumped him down on the mattress in the attic he slept on. As soon as he was set down, he jumped at you, mouthing at your neck and pulling you down onto the mattress with him, begging you to "Play with naughty Billy again, play with Billy until you make him scream.".

- Sufficed, Billy is very, very excited, and wholeheartedly supports any shows of excessive strength when it comes to him. He may initially have loved holding power over you, and don't get him wrong, he still does, but the way you can pick him up and treat him like a doll really gets him going.

Brahms Heelshire

- Bratty, baby Brahms is a mad cuddle fiend. In any regard, in any way you'll let him. Big spoon, little spoon, forking, laying against each other, hugs, Brahms will take anything you give him, even if it's just holding hands.

- And he knows you love them just as much as he does, and he does use this against you all the time.

- No, no, we don't need to eat breakfast just yet, we can lay in bed a few more hours.

- Fine, you can go pee, but Brahms will hold your hand the entire time (because he knows you'll let him).

- But this was it, this was the final straw. Brahms was sitting in your lap, facing you, arms wound around your neck and snuggled quite happily against the side of your face while you tried to read a book over his shoulder.

- But by God, Brahms reeked. You know baths weren't his favorite, but he had been running through the walls for days while something in the house was being fixed by a construction crew. His entire body reeked from sweat, his hair was greasy, and he certainly hadn't changed his clothes the entire time. You liked when Brahms had a musk about him, but this was too much for you.

- It was a back and forth for the past hour of trying to get Brahms to get up and bathe. You would tell Brahms he was a stinky boy, and he would say five more minutes. Enough was enough. When you grab Brahms' ass, at first he finally thinks you've caved to have fun times with him, but when you stand up and keep him held up by those hands, he wraps himself around you in an effort not to be dropped.

- Even though he has probably been though longer falls than this would be, he begs you to please put him down, but you do not waver. Regardless of how spooked he is, he is also incredibly turned on, knowing that you could take him up against a wall whenever you wanted, or even *gasp* carry him around like the baby he is!

- You can appreciate him shutting up, but in retrospect, him rutting against you and letting out those deep whines might be harder to deal with. Especially when tries pulling you closer by digging his heels into the small of your back. Another adventure for another day, you think, when you dump him into the shower and crank the cold water on full blast, clothes and all.

- Brahms isn't exactly happy about that, but it's a non-issue for you to strip and pin him down in the tub to fling his sopping clothes off and scrub him down with a loofah and wash his hair.

- When Brahms is finally clean, and sitting on his bed in a towel, he carefully plots his revenge. And oh, he will get his revenge. He just needs to figure out how to work around your freakish strength first.

Thomas Hewitt

- So you don't know what entirely is up with the Hewitt's yet, but you know it's something pretty bad is everyone else avoids them, or refuses to talk about them. But you had moved into town with your family quite a bit ago, and you had eyes for their son Thomas.

- You didn't know what the fuss was about when you popped into their gas station and asked his uncle (brother?), Charlie, for proper permission to take him out for a date. After all, it was the only polite thing to do, since you rarely saw Thomas out and about without one of his family members after he stopped showing up to the new school.

- If Luda Mae hadn't stopped him, you would've had your head blown clean off. Luda Mae let you down kinder, saying she was real happy someone had eyes for Thomas, but you were an outsider and had no place in their family.

- Oh well, like that was going to stop you. This boy made your heart thump, and you weren't about to give up because he has some nasties in his family. Hell, your family wasn't the happiest about your choice in crush, but you were determined.

- His sister (aunt, cousin? you didn't really know what was up with his family) Henrietta was kinder, and agreed to be your little liaison, delivering flowers and letters to him on her behalf. And you didn't know about it, but she had been working Luda Mae to let you two out for a date.

- Charlie, oh boy, was he pissed when you showed up on the property to take Thomas out on a picnic date. No matter how much Luda Mae yelled at him to leave you the hell alone, he was still fixing on shooting you clean in the head. Cocky son of a bitch sure didn't expect you pick him up and set him down on the couch, before scooping up Thomas and walking out of the house with him.

- You weren't much to look at, so Charlie was thrown for a loop when you put him in his place, and was down right shocked like you picked Thomas up bridal style like it was nothing, and strolled out to your pick-up truck.

- Thomas is just as surprised, though goes willingly. You had seemed so sweet and kind and soft, he knew you wouldn't mesh well with the Hewitt lifestyle. But you made him so happy that he wanted to throw all caution to the wind. He's delighted to know that you could hold your own against his family.

- Everyone, even himself, expects him to be one big, mean, bastard, but after confirming with an arm wrestling match that you're much, much stronger than him, he lets his guard down. He can be scared, and confused, and not expect a backhand or called an animal or a retard. I mean, you call him a stud, but even he knows that's meant as a compliment.

- He gets so bubbly and happy when you pick him up and carry him around, especially when you do it without him asking. It makes him feel like a kid again. It also puts you two on even footing for once, so he can kiss you and bump his face (which you don't mind? it boggles his mind) against yours.

- And it's always a good day for everyone when you put Charlie in his place, and he shuts the hell up for once. Despite his intense dislike for you, everyone else in the family adores you and welcomes you with open arms. There's not many people that Thomas without exception or hesitation, and they're always welcome members of the Hewitt household.

[phoebehalliwell]

I am having Thoughtstm about Bianca.

Have you thought about what her relationship would be with the rest of the Halliwell brood? Like does she get along with white!future Wyatt and Melinda? And what does she think of Henry Jr and his desire to make his Mark on the Halliwell Line?

Also I for some reason see her getting along really well with Dency? I know they don’t exist in the same universe but I could see them being friends? Maybe roasting Chris together and being good sparring partners? I think she’d dig Dency’s little detective thing she’d got going… and I know Bianca is with Chris but like… Bianca x Dency ? 👀 👀 Could be cute 😂😂

okay so for starters i think bianca gets along p well with all of the next gen but like. it wasn’t an immediate thing like. i think esp with wyatt because wyatt really is kind of like. like he's the kind of epitome of the next generation son of a charmed one and a whitelighter he's hella powerful blah blah blah and like. he kinda sits at the top of his class. which is like bianca. so i think bianca thought that wyatt would be like her because you know how like if you're only raised around people like you you kind of start thinking like how your brain works is how like everyone's brain works? i think bianca thinks wyatt is like her so she doesn't like him because well. you can guess. but i think upon meeting wyatt i mean he's just really like gentle really passive he doesn't like. like he doesn't hate magic. but it doesn't feel ingrained in him despite who he is he doesn't live for the battle like looking at him you see no markers that he's one of the most powerful witches of his generation and bianca's kinda just like huh. you don't have to feel the compulsive need to be the best at everything all the time and like make sure people know you're the best and also people kind of hate you for it because they'll never be as good as you so u decide to hate them first you decide you will be the bitch you craft a persona they're basically guaranteed to hate so when they reject you it's on your terms you wanted them to do that you basically forced their hand because the alternative is being genuine and that way if they do reject you it's not a mask they just saw you and didn't like you because let's be real there's not much to like. and wyatt's like hmm. no? i think she wouldn't really get along as well with wyatt as she would with chris because her and chris are very much both witches at heart you can feel it in everything they do but i don't think she like. doesn't get along with wyatt. i mean okay for starters wyatt kind of operates the opposite as bianca whereas bianca will throw up her stone cold alpha bitch mask before anyone can decide whether or not they like her again she kind of forces their hand because she needs this to be on her terms. wyatt does the exact opposite because again the elders almost killed him as a bebe and he's always kind of worried that some day they'll realize he as a person is just not worth the risk so he tries to be so super likable and genial and like. good witch!! at all times. and it's kind of like calls to like game recognizes game where both bianca and wyatt can tell the others wearing a mask no one's that nice and no one's that cold so like. i do think they like each other. they feel like they can be honest around each other (eventually. it does take wyatt a very long time to overcome that phoenix hurdle because again he's well read he knows what's up he knows they're like an organization of like superwitches smart deadly all of the above and he doesn't wanna be. giving up his secrets to them you know? much less the halliwell secrets. but i think once it becomes clear that bianca is her own person once she breaks from the phoenix then like. like you know they have to trust each other first. but once they do, they're buddies) i also think bianca's studied art history so i think they can talk about that and chris is like. okay? because like. no he gets it shure it's cool but also how long reasonably can you talk about a single painting like come on now.

as far as melinda goes i think like i think melinda comes off as really passive really kind a nurturing type like in her day to day life or whatever like oh she's such a sweetheart but she's kind of shy again like s1 piper is really my jumping off point for mellie that and she has leo's big heart That Being Said i do not think that shows At All when she's home i think she drags her brothers for filth like nail on the head baby she's like. if you're being a dick (which, between chris and wyatt, happens relatively frequently) she's gonna call you out on it!! in a very brutal and personalized, but at the same time still kinda funny way. she definitely has receipts. so i think just first hearing the way chris and bianca engage the way she like. like she respects chris's skills as a witch bianca does she thinks he's very talented she would trust him with her life but at the same time chris u fuckin idiot i think they have a very playful raport but bianca is very starstruck by him she's never lost in the layer and layers or fog that surround chris's identity i think like too many of chris's lis (not that he like ever does relationships really) are just kinda like. lost in the image. whether it's charmed one or brooding skinny brunet w daddy issues they are many images of chris u can see instead of the real one but bianca sees chris as he is which i think gives her immediate points from melinda melinda is also an empath and i do think bianca is protected against empaths but like melinda's like oh you two are In Love in love. as far as personal relationships go between melinda and bianca i think melinda would be the one who most consciously tries to make bianca feel like a part of the family like a halliwell. chris, respectfully, i love him, doesn't think of like. inviting her to some family events, especially not early in the relationship because like. he just doesn't. but melinda's like chris!! thanksgiving u gotta invite her 2 thanksgiving. because again. melinda can't feel bianca. but like. she's been an empath her whole life she knows what she's looking at and like. bianca needs a loving family. and she is totally willing to provide that!! and then for what it's worth i think despite all her skill bianca isn't nearly as good at reading mel as melinda is at reading her. like i think she sees the soft external melinda and then the melinda who roasts her siblings and is like okay i kinda get it. and like melinda want to be a nurse or doctor she wants to fuse her empath with a mortal career to best help people like sure. but i think like. but them on a solo mission together (i guess duo mission) and bianca'll fine she's just really misread melinda like in general what she thought she was looking at is not the witch melinda is and i think it's just because bianca's unaccustomed to seeing someone who has power like melinda who can fight like melinda who undeniably has her mother's unbreakable fierce spirit just be like how melinda is in her day to day life. like someone who's that great at what she does just choose kindness and gentleness daily not because the elders are breathing down her neck or like she needs allies or like she has some epic prophecy to fill she just like. chooses kindness because she wants to. she wants a kind world. and bianca's like huh. bc lowkey forgot that was an option. but it's difficult seeing all the shit bianca has.

in regards to henry i think henry jr and bianca get along famously because they just like feel really similar like. like bianca was never liked in the phoenix because well a) she's a bitch b) she's the best and c) like she was always clearly people favorite so like. others were it was jealously call a spade a spade this is like elementary era it's jealousy when you're eight and trying your hardest and the other eight year old gets praise the praise u really want and she didn't even try she didn't even care she didn't have to because she's just so much better than you. like!! yeah so kids at school never liked her, esp within the phoenix (ftr i think phoenix go thru a normal education system so like can like function/blend in real well in normal society and then Also go to phoenix academy, so kinda like what gen2 does with magic school). bianca's never fit it, but she's also wicked smart. so kinda like henry! like paige kind of runs magic school henry's sisters go there like henry's been at magic school. he doesn't take classes, but he's always there. he burns through the books in the library. he knows everyone just calls him the mortal, he doesn't care, because he also knows they know he's smart than them like if they could swallow their pride and ask him for help like most of these kids would become better witches but they don't because henry's a mortal. bianca doesn't care, the kid knows his shit. so what if he doesn't have powers, like, dude, he's basically a walking encyclopedia, and he's read the book of shadows cover to cover like a dozen times, do you know how rare that knowledge is? that's the sacred book of the warren line like that's a crucial ancestral item and henry's like. like in bianca's mind not only is henry a warren witch like he's Thee warren witch no other person alive knows that magic better than him. i also think they have similar senses of humor.

dency!! i mean i think if dency were born any later she'd be besties with like all the phoenix i think magic isn't at a stage where they're really integrated into society yet and there's still kind of that cultish structure but that's not the reason light magic doesn't engage right they don't deal with the phoenix because they're neutral so they will work with demons meaning working with them as a light magic practitioner is forbidden. and then for what its worth i think dency being demon/charmed one is really gonna herald in an era of just kinda like acceptance for those who are neutral or even born of dark magic but like. that hasn't happened. yet. but like. in regards to bianca specifically. i think they'd vibe. i think bianca would throw up her cooler than u bitch personality as she always does and i think dency'd be so into it. and then, of course, dency doesn't look down her nose at the phoenix like most other witches do, again, because she's the source's heir. from what vantage point can she judge others? i think for bianca just seeing someone who's so kinda unabashedly themselves like honest about it too dency's not like. a role model. like there's penn who's really put together and always trying to seem pristine and polite and then they're dency who like hasn't showered in four days because she's out of shampoo so she needs to buy some Then she can shower. there's like. an honest about being kinda uncool kinda a fuck up that makes dency like. cool. like because we all do it (maybe not specifically the shampoo thing, but) like we all have some elements of ourselves that are just kind of truly pathetic and dency doesn't try to cover it up with some shiny veneer she doesn't she not like wyatt with his perfect mask or even bianca with her bitch one dency doesn't wear a mask take me or leave me baby and i think bianca really loves her for that. it genuinely depends on were in the timeline in chrisbianca does bianca meet dency because like. dude. powercouple. i don't think it'd go anywhere i don't think we're necessarily hitting soulmatism or kinda the raw vulnerability we'll get from a latestage chrisbianca but like. dude. like. 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀. like. !

[alecmagnuslwb]

Double Trouble

Read on AO3

Zatanna blinks hard praying that there’s some sort of backlash from the spell making her see double. But when her vision clears after a series of rapid blinks her eyelashes sticking together from the movement there’s no change to the view before her.

When she had yelled ‘ylpitlum’ casting her hands out at the dagger John had thrown at the beast before her she wasn’t prepared for the beast to use its last moments of breath before a dozen daggers pierced its skin to send a reverb of magic right back her way. John had grabbed her jumping in front of her and guarding her body with his own at the last second taking the hit instead.

And now, well now she’s dealing with this.

“I’m not sure if this is a nightmare or a fantasy for me,” Zatanna says looking at the two Constantine’s before her both sporting that same sardonic smile she’s fallen for over and over again. Her eyes flit between the two of them spotting no differences, they are exact copies of one another.

“Please say fantasy,” the John to her right says. He steps towards her at the same time as the one to her left. They both reach out to cup her cheek.

“Are you alright, luv?” the one to her left says running his thumb under her eye lightly. The one on the right looks annoyed that he beat him to asking, so he steps back patting down his pockets looking for his cigarettes.

“I’m fine,” she says watching as the one John lights his cigarette and the other keeps his eyes trained on her. “You’re the one who seems to not be.”

“Eh,” the one smoking says. He pauses taking a drag and shrugging his shoulders. “I mean I’ve been worse.”

Zatanna squints one eye and tilts her head in thought. He’s not technically wrong, he’s had way worse spells blast upon him, at least he’s still got all of his limbs attached. Double the limbs, really.

She pulls back from the John closest to her, his hand dropping from her face. She grabs him by the sleeve and drags him to stand beside smoking John. She situates them both standing perfectly beside one another and pulls the cigarette from the one’s mouth as he makes a grumbling protest that she ignores.

“Don’t move an inch,” she says stepping back a few feet from them. She raises her hands focusing her magic on the two identical men before her.

“Nruter meht ot eno,” she says and a burst of blue and yellow magic leaves her fingertips cascading over both John’s, she watches as it combines together between them and then, nothing, absolutely nothing happens. She huffs in frustration as the sparks fall to the ground, no change whatsoever.

“Well it kinda tickled,” left John says, it’s his turn to pull out his pack of cigarettes. He lights two handing one to his other self who nods in thanks before holding it out to her.

“You seem stressed,” he says with a cheeky smile. “It might take off the edge.” The other John nods in agreement.

Zatanna rolls her eyes and walks over to the pair. She takes the offered cigarette and flicks it across the room while never breaking eye contact with him.

“Hey,” he says watching forlornly as it goes, landing in a puddle and flickering out. The other John chuckles taking a long drag and purposely blowing the smoke in the direction of his other self.

Zatanna snatches his away too, just because. He stops chuckling frowning as she crushes it out beneath her heel.

“I don’t understand. That should have worked,” she says focusing back on the issue at hand.

Right John is the first to speak up.

“Maybe it’s cause we’re different essences, ya know,” he says gesturing a hand between the two identical versions of himself. “He’s my good side, I’m the bad side, or something like that.”

Zatanna scrunches up her nose at the theory. It would be possible, there’s plenty of spells like that out there in the world, but they’re behaving far too alike for that.

“No your both being equally as annoying, I don’t think it’s a good side versus evil side situation,” she says placing her hands on her hips. They both smirk at her evaluation, proving they’re definitely the same John just duplicated.

She looks down at her hands playing a bit of colorful magic over them with a sigh.

“Whatever that thing did, it used my magic against me, which means my magic isn’t going to fix it,” she sighs again, just once she’d like some mission of theirs to go off without a hitch. Just once. She raises her arms pulling up a portal and pushing both of them through.

They pour out into the room the house of mystery has decided is a potion room and a library today. Both John’s move to take off their trench coats and Zatanna stops the one closest to her.

“Nope, the only way I’m gonna be able to tell the difference is if one of you keeps on the coat,” she says. The one with his coat already off smirks at the other one as he pushes the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows, loosening his tie a bit more.

The one still in his coat huffs and throws himself into a chair as the other situates himself on an empty table still smirking. Zatanna ignores them both heading to the bookshelves and pulling every book she finds that could have a solution. She tosses one at each of the Constantine’s, hitting the one sprawling across the desk a little hard in the stomach which cause him to let out a little ‘oof’ sound.

“Read. Find a potion or something that’ll put you back together,” she says placing a stack on another small desk and sitting down. She immediately starts going through them, dogearing a few that might work, or could be combined for best results.

It only takes about twenty minutes of reading before one of the John’s speaks up with a suggestion she knew one of them was bound to make eventually.

“You know there is one surefire type of magic to recenter auras and rejoin selves,” trench coat Constantine says tilting his head her way. The other one lying on the desk lifts himself up with a wicked little smile that already has her rolling her eyes.

“He’s right,” he says flipping himself so that he’s basically straddling the desk facing her way. “Ta-“ he starts and Zatanna immediately shoots him down.

“If you say tantric sex magic I will throw you both in a pocket dimension,” she says glaring at them both. They pout in response, the same puppy dog eyes he tries to give whenever he wants something pointed at her from two angles. It’s not working today though.  

“But it would probably work. Our magic with yours always yields excellent and intense results,” trench coat says shutting the book he was reading. “Plus, it’s fun.” Their faces light up with equally as hopeful looks.

“Yeah it might,” she says and they smile. “But, I’m far too annoyed with both of you already for that, so guzzling down a no doubt terrible tasting potion is what you’re going to get,” she says with a sunny smile. Their own smiles drop and hers grows.

They both grumble going back to their books as she does the same. It only takes a few minutes for her to work out a solution, she gets up flitting around the room for ingredients and combining a few spells together specific to her magic, the beasts and a few outside sources. She catches both of the John’s watching her as she moves, the flow of her coattails trailing behind her and the glow of magic tickling at her fingertips. It’s good to know no matter how many of him there are, he’s a captive audience when she’s around.

She spoons the mixture, a sludgy black and green thing, into two vials and corks them. She turns tossing a vial to each of them that they both easily catch one handed.

“Drink these simultaneously and yas eseht sdrow after,” she says flashing her hand across the space in front of her. The enochian words they’ll need to say appear in smoky clouds lingering for them to read.

They both come to stand beside the hovering words, uncorking their vials.

No coat Constantine pauses before he lifts it to his lips as the other him sniffs it with a grimace.

“You sure you don’t want to try the sex magic?” he asks her with a little smile on his lips. The other John’s head perks up with the same small smile.

Zatanna snorts out a little laugh. “Maybe some other time,” she says with a wink. She’s not lying under the right circumstances where she wasn’t so tired and annoyed, she might be down for the idea.

Both John’s chuckle. “We’ll hold you to that,” they say in unison before tipping their vials together in a toast and tossing them back. They read the words still written above and immediately the spell starts to work.

They both lift off the ground a little, a bright white blinding light encapsulating them both. Zatanna shields her eyes, lifting her arm when the light fades. Standing there where there was once two of him, is one John Constantine, trench coat askew, hair a mess, the wholly original genuine article.

“So about that maybe some other time,” he says, poorly straightening his tie. Zatanna picks up a paperback from behind her and throws it at his chest in response.