#i only really speak english and half french so this was the first time i actually got to watch any aldo and understand more than every like

[svtskneecaps]

i should be sleeping but i do want to reiterate how much i love that our collective fan community and also the streamers are constantly like, so new members when? new language when? a teaser drops and we're all like germans???? german time????? asiatic language time??????? new faces??? new friends?? new communities????

i've said this before but it just constantly makes me feel all warm n fuzzy to see it. i'm really happy we're all so excited and united in this.

[cheoridoll]

distraction —

pairing: robby keene x reader

warning: none, just something cute

words counted: 1.582

includes: just Robby like a puppy after his love

playlist for the fic: spotify. | forgive the bad english! it's not my first language.

A toss or a distraction, Robby felt useless at this point in the day, sitting on the couch at his half-brother's house, while staring at the turned off television, totally disconnected from his current reality, only remembering how he was used by a girl. And damn, he liked it. He couldn't deny that he was like a puppy, obeying all the orders of the tough rookie girl, the one who arrived suddenly, the distant female cousin of the Larusso family. Because Daniel loved her, she was like a daughter to him.

At first, he just wanted revenge, now he finds himself in love with his own karma.

"Hey bro, grab your backpack, let's go to school" — Miguel said, throwing the backpack against Keene's rigid body, waking up to life, as his father would say.

He forgot so much about the world outside his head, that he also ended up forgetting why he was awake so early. School.

"Shit! Miguel, did you do the french work?" — like a light bulb, it lit up his mind. He spent so much time focused on Larusso that he left aside his obligations, like an idiot in love, preferring to remain in the illusion of his own daydreams.

"Yes, I did." — he agreed, transforming his expression into a somewhat confused one, eyebrows drawn together and mouth half open.

"Put my name? Please!" — he asked with a huge pout on his lips, making Diaz understand and laugh loudly at the gesture.

"Okay, but stop making that weird face."

Robby was getting more and more electric as the hours passed, excited for class after lunch. Arts had become one of his recent passions. He loved painting feelings, the most recent being the common mix of love and fear, which he affectionately nicknamed "chocolate and pepper." Love creates artists, it created Robby, and disappointment makes them better. But deep down, I hoped it would continue as an unfinished creation.

Keene continued rambling in his head, and all paths ironically led him to her, to her beautiful hair, penetrating, oblique and hidden gaze. He hated love, he hated being attracted to someone who held him up like a spear, a fucking distraction.

"Where are you looking, Keene?" — Robby's head went straight to the empty food plate, making the blow have a greater impact, his face burned with pain, his throat wanted to scream, but he couldn't.

"Shit Kyler, get out of here you idiot." — Miguel accompanied him.

Kyler had been thinking about the guy with the clear eyes in recent days, vowing to give him a good beating one day, also stating that he would at least see where the blow came from. No sooner said than done. After the crash, he became dizzy, it wasn't like he had the strength to stand up there, his face was fucked up, he lost consciousness, he even lost sight of the fact that one of the shards of glass had flown onto his shoulder. Damn the day he decided to wear a shirt with a loose collar. I lifted the table, still tipping sideways and my vision was blurred, holding his belly, as if that would give him more balance. Kyler saw the biggest opportunity, turned his body and kicked the other person's heel, knocking Robby to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Miguel tried to advance towards the other, but was stopped by the idiots, cowardly held by three people. While struggling, Kyler threw the first kick.

"Oh, Kyler!" — a female voice tore through the place.

There were feelings in the speech, not so positive so to speak, perhaps hatred, anger with a hint of jealousy.

"Only I can mess with my blond." — ran towards the brunette, kicking him away from Keene, his kicks were high, Kyler didn't really know how to attack at that moment, nor did he know if he should, opting to take small steps backwards while using defense.

"Are you such a coward that you can't just slap me?"

He attacked her with hatred, threw her body to the ground and stood on top of her torso, while holding the thin collar of the girl's blouse, ready to throw the first punch. She smiled, not an ordinary smile, a devilish smile, and the surprise came with her tears, a desolate and fearful look.

"What's going on in that cafeteria?" — shouted the director, who with heavy steps walked towards Kyler, taking him off the girl.

Behind him was Daniel, who was helping prepare the dance that night.

"Uncle, I tried to defend my friend, but when I saw..." — he burst into tears, being lifted from the ground by his uncle, who hugged him carefully.

"Fine my love." - Larusso left the girl leaning against one of the tables, heading towards the body of the former apprentice. With compassion the silence against his body, the support between his arms in the most comfortable way he could.

"Are you okay, Robby?" Nothing was said, he was still dizzy from all the blows and the coffee didn't help his anxiety at that moment.

"Uncle, I'm going to take him to the infirmary, okay?"

"Okay, princess, I'm going to go to the principal's office and sort out this mess." — The older man left, while Larusso placed Robby's arm over his shoulders, in order to avoid another contact between the other person's body and the ground.

"Robby, look at me, tell me it's okay." — He requested. "I..." - he paused, completely rethinking that moment.

"Take me to the infirmary straight away."

Without saying anything else, she took him there, the silence killed them, I missed their diverse conversations. In the end, Robby felt a little hurt, beyond the physical.

"Tell me sweetie, why are you like this?" — asked the one with locks, bringing her fingers to the other's injured face. "I know you're strong and you'd take him down whenever you wanted."

"You. I'm like this because of you." — he took his arm away and threw himself on the sofa in the infirmary.

Karla, the nurse, was at least scared by how deformed Keene was, after all, he was at a school where practically every day there were around three students injured after a hidden fight. I'll get the ice. - was the only thing he said before leaving.

"What did I do, Robby"

"Everything, just answer me one thing before I tell you to leave this room and leave me alone." — He shouted. He was more upset than actually angry, in order to just take her away from his mind and heart for a few minutes.

"Am I what to you? Cheap fun, love." — he laughed to himself. "forget the last part, I must be some idiot that you only catch when you feel like it."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" — he raised his right eyebrow.

"I love you so much, and look, if I didn't show you signs of that, it's because I'm insecure. Robby, you have anyone at your feet, your exes are incredibly perfect, they fight well, they are beautiful... " —she sat next to him.

"I'm afraid of not being good enough like they were."

"I should slap you for thinking like that." — he joked.

Not that he had the courage to lift a finger at her, he loved her in a ridiculous way, which sometimes found it strange.

"I love you, I love you in a way that I've never loved anyone else and you can bet that you're the only one I want to have in my life, or better yet, build one."

"I called him, I'm not good enough to fight someone experienced yet." — she laughed, throwing his body against hers, to create a hug.

"You're over the top, Keene." — she leaned his torso, kissing the wound on the older man's face close to the wound.

"No, I'm just ridiculously in love with the new girl. In fact, how did you know the director was coming?"

"Needy. For you." - they laughed.

"Look, you kicked very well, I was quite jealous of what the highs were."

"I don't even know how I did that, I just wanted to protect you at any cost."

"Damn girl. I love you so much that I could go to hell just for you."

he didn't want hell, he wanted heaven, the roof of her mouth, to calm her busy and stressful days. The calm kiss, full of desire and passion no longer repressed, was everything they wanted and what they finally got.

[ninyard]

So what do we think about that draft where jean kill himself on the phone with kevin ? Or an au where kevin off himself because he couldn’t handle riko’s and jean’s death?

(coming back from my mini mental health break to drop... this. uuhhh cw for jean kills himself on the phone with Kevin sorry)

-

It was late when Kevin's phone rang, loud enough to startle him from a light sleep, a half enjoyed Exy match still playing on his laptop.

Jean

Kevin paused the video.

Why was Jean calling him at this time of night? He should've been sleeping - No, at practice. Maybe he had just finished. Which schedule was he even on, now?

He pressed the green button to answer, but the feeling of something off came much quicker than any voice that would have followed. Dead air, for a moment too long, an electronic hiss, and Jean didn't speak.

"Hello?" Kevin answered, hearing a movement as he held the phone to his ear. "Jean, did you mean to call me?"

Jean laughed, a weak laugh, short and muffled. "I didn't think you'd actually pick up. That makes this all worse, doesn't it?"

His words were not English, instead French, spoken too loudly to be a secret. Kevin sat up and looked at the time again to make sure it was really as late as he thought it was. Maybe it's nothing, he comforted himself with a lie, a way of ignoring the churning feeling in his stomach that something wasn't quite right.

Jean's breathing was heavy, accompanied with a hum every few seconds, less of a happy sound, more of a struggle to keep quiet in whatever pain he was feeling.

"Why are you calling me?" Kevin whispered, like he might be heard if he didn't speak quietly. "Where is he?"

Jean laughed again, taking an inhale into the deepest parts of his lungs, before he said, "It doesn't matter."

"It does," Jean's uncharacteristic lack of care as to the king's whereabouts worried Kevin - If Riko wasn't with him... Kevin looked at the time again and again, trying to remember Riko's schedule. Why couldn't he remember?

Where was he, and why was Jean alone?

His question came out cautious. "What's going on?"

"Nothing that you can change," Jean's sigh was tired, a dismissal mixed with pessimism and hopelessness. "It's already done."

"What is?"

His heart started to pound in his chest, pushed by the tone of Jean voice, speaking french out loud without a care, no fear in his voice, but something different taking its place; Kevin was afraid, scared of the truth. Jean would never be so careless - so reckless and nonchalant. Something was wrong, so very wrong, and putting two and two together only left Kevin with too many questions and a rope around his chest.

"I hoped you wouldn't answer." Jean's voice cracked as he spoke, and Kevin shut his eyes at the sound. "I'm not even sure why I called in the first place, but ah. Here we are."

"Stop that. Where the fuck are you?"

"Only where i was always going to end up." He laughed, but instead of an awful, awkward sound, behind the laugh was thinly veiled pain. Something hurt. Jean was in pain, and Riko wasn't around, and Kevin started to pace, like he would find the answer somewhere else around the room.

Jean swallowed hard before continuing, "I would ask you how to say goodbye but you're not known to afford such courtesies, are you?"

Kevin stopped. "Goodbye?"

"Ah, so you do know how to say it," The sigh that followed had something behind it, something wistful, something painful, something... final. "Goodbye," he spoke in english, before a shaky inhale brought him back into French. "Are you happy?"

"With what?"

"Everything." His breath blew loudly through the mic of his phone. "With who you are, away from this place. In general, Kevin, are you happy now?"

Kevin hesitated. "Sometimes."

Jean hummed. "Better than never."

"What did you do?"

Jean doesn't respond immediately, and Kevin knew then what he hadn't wanted to know at all. He didn't want to know, he didn't want to assume, but then the sound of a sniffle and a low cry followed, and Kevin felt his heart start to break.

"What did you do, Jean?" He asked again, no louder than a whisper this time, quiet enough that he could hear Jean's whimper as he started to gently cry.

"Will you stay with me?" Jean replied, a swallow in his throat, the phone being placed down somewhere. "I don't want to die alone."

"Let me call someone," Kevin begged. "Why? Why would you- Why? You promised. You promised."

"Be quiet." He pleaded, and Kevin covered his mouth with his free hand. Was this happening? Jean's words were not as angry as his tone would have suggested, instead a soft quiver in his voice, as he tried to hold back the tears that Kevin pictured rolling down his face. "Just stay with me or fuck off and don't let my last thought of you be that you're an insufferable bitch."

Kevin almost laughed.

He almost laughed, knowing what was happening, knowing Jean was fading away on the other line, as he cried, dealing with whatever he'd done to himself, however it was happening.

"Tell me something I don't know," His accented voice was getting weaker with every agonising second that passed. "Talk to me."

Jean knew everything about him, almost everything, so much so that he couldn't think of something new, something that he didn't know. This was his only light in a dungeon of darkness, and that light was fading quicker than he'd left him alone all those months ago. It was not comfort Jean was looking for, but perhaps company, or a presence, just to believe that someone cared, to feel like someone was there at the end of it all. He didn't really want to know Kevin's trivia and fun facts; He said it himself - he didn't want to die alone.

"Don't do this to me," It was all that he could say, a desperate, despaired attempt, no other words meaningful enough to get him to change his mind. "Let me help you."

"You can't," Jean responded. "Not this time."

And Kevin knew that it was the truth.

He thought for a moment. What was he even supposed to do? He thought about calling for help anyway - on the one hand desperate to keep him alive, while on the other hand knowing what would be waiting for him on the other side of survival. There were no scenarios in which Jean would prosper. If Kevin called for help, it would have caused a scene, and he swore he could already hear the cracking of bones under the Master's cane, and the muffled screams that would follow.

Kevin pictured a fate almost worse than death in every attempt to end that night differently; Jean's choice had been made - this was it, and this was his goodbye.

The understanding did not make the reality any easier to digest, though. Instead it sat heavy in his stomach, weighing him down, into the fabric of the sheets he sank back down into.

"I'm sorry," He said. "I've never said that to you before. I wish i never left you."

"I don't," Jean had started to slur his words. "You deserve to be happy. Even just sometimes."

"You do too."

Jean clicked his tongue, but he didn't comment.

Perhaps he knew it was what he deserved, but it had always been more of a mythical concept than anything achievable. He knew what that darkness felt like, the familiar sound of those swirling spirals, the thoughts of can I live like this forever? that fueled the fire to bring him to this point.

The silence on the phone line lasted for an uncomfortable moment too long.

“Jean?”

Jean mumbled his response after another long pause. “Mmm?”

“Tell me something,” Kevin turned his question back on him. “Something that nobody knows about you.”

Jean’s laugh was so weak it could barely be considered a laugh anymore; more an exhale of air with something behind it. “I wanted to be a writer. Before all of this.”

“What would you write?”

Jean thought for a moment. “Poems. Things nobody would ever read. Sometimes…”

Kevin’s heart started thumping again as Jean trailed off into a mumbling silence. “Sometimes..?” He prompted him.

“Hmm?”

“What would you write other than poems?”

“Something for the theatre,” His words were slow and tired. “Something to be… performed.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Ah.” Jean sucked in a long, laboured breath. “Dramas. Something to leave… Mmm-” There’s a dull thud on the other end of the line. He couldn't hold back his quiet groan. “Something…”

“Jean.” Kevin wanted to tell him to be quiet, to wake up, to perk up. He wanted to tell Jean that his joke wasn’t funny and he was waiting for the punchline to come.

“Kevin.” He said, long and drawn out, twice the length it needs to be.

“Did you ever show anyone? Your stories?”

“Only Elodie.” His sisters name rolled off his tongue with a wet, gentle cry. “My actress.”

Kevin thought about her then, not knowing where her brother is, not knowing that he was dying on the other end of the phone.

“Did she like them?” When Jean didn't respond, Kevin raised his voice. “Jean.”

“Mmhmm,” He answered, not much of an answer at all. More of an acknowledgment of his quickly dimming consciousness, a murmur of life to prove he was still there. “Can’t talk much longer.”

“I know.” The painful acceptance left his mouth with a bitterness Kevin couldn't quite describe. “Tell me about her. Elodie.”

“I wish…” Jean spoke through almost shut lips, and Kevin winced at the sound of sleepiness as it started to consume him. “All alone.” He finished a thought he never spoke out loud. “I think… I'm tired.”

“I know.” Kevin said again. “Are you going to sleep?”

There was a struggle in his inhale as he answered, "I think so.”

Fuck. “Are you sure?”

“Mmhmm.”

There's a moment of silence.

“Jean.” Kevin calls. He could still hear his hollow breathing on the other line, but he called his name again when all that followed was silence, “Jean?”

“Mmm?” His breath slowed down to nothing, and Kevin was certain he could hear the slow and irregular ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum of his friends struggling heart.

“I love you.” Kevin said, but he felt sick as the words left his mouth. It felt worthless to him then, an empty promise. Words that should've been said far too long ago. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe.”

“Mmhmhm,” Jean hummed in three syllables. "Safe."

And Kevin waited as the silence drew on. He heard it, the final breath that left his lips, the rattle of his breath through lungs too weak to take it.

One second, he counted, and another.

Another, and another, and another, and a million moments passed with nothing but silence and the knowledge of Jean's soul hopefully finding solace in another, brighter place.

He put his phone down, too scared to hang up, and waited for a sign that this wasn't final - waiting for a sign that said this would simply result in a punishment taken too far, that in a months time when Jean's wounds healed he would call Kevin again and apologise for breaking his promise.

Kevin tried not to care about the promise, to not watch the duration of the call going up and up and up with not so much as a peep from the other end of the phone. He tried not to wonder what would happen next - would his parents be informed, would they care? Would they send his body back to France, or would he die, anonymous and insignificant, buried in some American plot of land somewhere, that nobody cared enough about to put a bunch of flowers on top of?

Would the Master call Kevin, would anyone let him know, when they didn't know Kevin had taken another breath after Jean had taken his last?

"Oh Jesus fucking Christ!" The voice on the other end of the phone scared Kevin out of the depth of his thoughts. Was it Zane? He wondered, his finger hovering over the button to end the call, or was it just another voice of a nameless Raven who would forget about this all once the sun rose? "Get the King, tell him it's-"

Kevin hung up before he could hear any more.

The panic attack that followed was not a friendly one - It started slow, but before long, his chest was stuck in a vice, and his heart was prepared to take off. Kevin couldn't hold it in anymore - he cried, choking on the breaths that left his hands numb.

Kevin didn't hear Andrew coming in, but he stood by the door frame, watching, hardly visible through the blurry haze of tears in his eyes. Andrew glanced at the still-lit-up phone screen on the bed beside Kevin, and shut the door gently behind him.

No words were enough.

There's nothing that could be done to make everything okay again, nothing he could hear that that would stop the guilt, and the sadness, and the hurt, that all-consuming hurt.

All Kevin had to offer then, was pain, and bottomless grief, as he held his racing heart while it broke into a million, tiny pieces.

[youkissedareaderinthedark]

Mockingbird

Synopsis: Charles Leclerc as always been a family man, so it makes perfect sense to everyone when he chooses to adopt a child. Specifically, you.

adopted monegasque daughter reader x charles leclerc

A/N: for this one; charles will adopt y/n when he’s 28, for the most part, the grid will be the same as the 2023, everyone’s just older, and because charles’ relationships are unpredictable, he chooses to adopt and raise y/n mostly on his own.

. okay so

. again, charles has always wanted a family

. small, big, when he’s young, when he’s old

. doesn’t care, just wants a family

. specifically, a child

. but after many not-so serious and semi-serious relationships

. he realizes that he’ll have to wait a few years until he can have one of his own

. unless

. “what if I just adopt a child?”

. “I won’t have to wait any longer, I can just have one and raise them on my own terms”

. charles decides he likes this idea very much

. so he thinks it over and talks about it with his own family

. then after many conversations with his mother

. he visits a few adoption centers

. talks to a lot of social workers and child protective service workers

. finds one wide-eyed, adorable, 3 year old girl

. and falls absolutely in love

. the directors of the adoption center tell him all about you

. your birth parents, your story, your situation

. his heart was set

. the adoption process takes a few months

. so charles take that time to get ready for you

. but nothing could prepare him for the day the adoption agency called and told him you were his

. he swears it was the best day of his life

. he was beaming the entire drive to the adoption center with pascale

. had tears in his eyes when he finally got to hold you in his arms

. so then

. charles leclerc is a father

. the first two years of living with charles was definitely an experience

. you don’t remember much but he tells you how chaotic ages 3-5 were

. about how he basically lived with his mother in his childhood home for those years so she could help him take care of her granddaughter

. how much he loved getting to know you

. finding your favorite foods, toys, shows, ect

. how he loved teaching you his languages

. (he raises you in french, italian, and english, particularly in that order)

. how he cried when he dropped you off for day care and kindergarten the first time

. how he loved helping you know him

. like playing songs on his piano for you

. teaching you how to play different sports

. or watching old formula 1 races together

. speaking of formula 1

. you were raised racing

. charles bought you your first kart when you were six

. brought you to your first f1 race when you were five

. actually, charles had a love-hate relationship with bringing you to races with him during the early years of having you

. because on one hand

. there’s thousands of cameras around during a race weekend, and charles doesn’t want you televised 24/7

. and there’s also hundreds of people around him while he’s in the paddock, and he wants none of them near you

. it’s also hard to give you his full attention during race weekends

. which is something he always wants to do

. so he’s against the idea at first

. but on the other hand

. he can’t bear being apart from you for a few hours, nonetheless a few days or sometimes weeks

. and he knows you don’t really understand what’s going on, only that your dad puts on a red suit and drives a very fast car for a hour and half

. but he loves coming back to the garage to see you sitting with andrea, clad in ferrari merch and big headphones with a happy grin on your face

. it cheers him up no matter what happened on track

. and he knows he has lots of people willing to look out for you while he’s busy

. because you instantly became beloved by the grid the moment charles walked in with you in his arms

. who’s carlos sainz and pierre gasly?

. you only know uncle carlo and uncle pear

. uncle lew, uncle max, the list goes on

. although charles never lets you out of the ferrari garage

. his closest friends come in and visit you often

. sometimes because your dad asked, sometimes just because they want to

. also, speaking of max

. you met penelope during the winter break when you were five

. and even though she’s three years older than you

. she instantly became like your older sister

. and suddenly charles and max hang out a lot more often for the sake of their daughters

. anyway, the early years of living with charles were still chaotic, but he says that those years contain some of his favorite memories

. he loved watching you grow up

. sending you to primary school

. watching you kart on the same track he drove on when he was your age

. spending many afternoons at his mother’s house with his brothers

. (arthur and lorenzo are the best uncles by the way)

. watching you discover your own passions, whether that be racing or not

. traveling around the world with you, both to race and to explore

. watching you become independent, speaking up for yourself and what you believe in

. it all goes by very fast for charles

. and suddenly you’re a teenager

. by now charles is close to/about to retire

. so you don’t spend that much time in the paddock as a teenager

. but the times that you do are very fun

. instead of staying in charles’s team garage, you explore the paddock with penelope, who’s still an older sister to you

. you befriend all the newer drivers

. and hang out with whichever drivers are left from the grid when you first got adopted

. however, the drivers that charles has been friends with and have retired by now

. lewis, daniel, carlos, pierre, max, george, alex, lando

. you’ve formed your own big family with them and their kids

. because almost all of you live in monaco, you see each other often

. you guys go on vacations together when you don’t have school

. holidays on private beaches and expensive yachts

. or at booked-out ski resorts and mountain lodges

. you and penelope are the oldest, and are mostly in charge of looking after the youngest kids

. but you don’t mind, you love them

. it’s your own little f1 community

. but this is barely the beginning of having charles as a father

. he loves embarrassing you, for one

. at first glance, it might seem cool to have your dad come pick you up from school in a ferrari

. until he gets out in strangely pattered pants and a shirt that will never match

. “papa, do you not have anything else in your closet?”

. “what do you mean? you don’t like?”

. he says it keeps you humble

. you say he should just stay in the car next time

. charles does make sure you’re humble and grateful for everything you have

. but he doesn’t help by spoiling you to death

. you like something from the new gucci collection? it’s yours

. new dior bracelet you said is pretty? your birthday gift

. you think aruba looks nice? where do you think you two spend your next summer vacation

. “papa, when I said I wanted a break from school, I didn’t mean in italy”

. “but mon petit soleil, you are relaxed now, non? you’ll be back by monday, don’t worry”

. whether it be italy or not, wherever you go, charles tries to keep you as safe as possible

. he’s always been cautious of fans and paparazzi around you, no matter how old you are

. making sure you’re holding on to him when a crowd comes out from no where and gets too close for comfort

. keeping you by his side when there’s paparazzi around

. and doing whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe and happy at home/school/in the paddock

. anyway

. I could go on and on about being charles’ daughter

. but the point is that he loves you

. you’re y/n jules leclerc

. his petit soleil

. he couldn’t imagine his life without you

[i-am-church-the-cat]

I have a flower shop/tattoo parlor maxiel + loscar AU building from a tropical storm into a hurricane in my head so here are some thoughts

+ When Max hires him, this is what he says to Logan’s arrangement: “It is not the worst thing I’ve ever seen. I can make it better.” What he really meant was that Max could make Logan better, but he wouldn’t come to understand that until later.

+ There’s a phone that sits on the back wall of Max’s shop. The first time it rang while Logan was working, he’d mistakenly answered it. He’d watched Max’s face go bleach white from across the shop as Logan answered “Hello, this is Verstappen’s Floral, how can I help you?” The barrage of angry Dutch he’d gotten back in return had shocked Logan into silence, making it easier for Max to steal the receiver from his hand. Now, Logan knows to just let it ring.

+ Oscar is pretty sure Daniel only gave him an interview because their moms are in a book club together. The owner of Honey Badger Tattoos was always friendly and outgoing but he was notoriously possessive about his art. In the ten years the shop has been open, it’s had four employees. Daniel Ricciardo, the founder, Daniel Kvyat, Daniel’s partner who he bought out after the first year, Lando Norris who worked part-time at the front desk, and now Oscar.

“I’ve never had an apprentice before, I probably wouldn’t be very good at it,” Daniel says during his interview. He’d said he liked Oscar’s work and already showed an interest in teaching Oscar more of his signature American style. But the guy was still hesitant, fidgeting with excess nerves. “Just ask Lando.

Lando nods from his seat at the front desk which Oscar can see from the open door of Daniel’s office. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing half the time, I wouldn’t trust him to teach other people.”

Daniel does not look like that’s the support he was going for, wincing at the dry criticism but not arguing.

“That’s fine,” Oscar confirms with a shrug. He’s already done the majority of his apprenticeship under Mark Webber. But when the man decided he’d had enough of the South of France and was selling the shop and moving back to Australia, Oscar had to look for somewhere else to work. “I only have six months left before I can get my certification.”

Daniel doesn’t look very reassured. Oscar can take a hint so he decides to get out before he’s kicked out.

“Hey, it’s cool, mate, thanks for meeting with me anyway-”

“Can you start next week?” Daniel asks, leg bouncing up and down and rocking the desk he’s sitting behind. He sees Oscar’s confused expression and sighs. “I really need more help here.”

“Yeah,” Oscar decides, not looking a gift horse in the mouth. “I’ll text you my schedule.”

And that’s how he starts working for the Honey Badger.

+ “This is a tulip,” Max is saying in French, word draw out and pointing at the multi-colored bulbs. Logan has tried telling him that he’s lived in Europe for the majority of his life at this point and can do his job in English, French, and Spanish but Max doesn’t believe him. At least Logan’s starting to pick up more Dutch.

Logan is rescued from his impromptu language lesson by the bell on the door ringing. He turns towards the sound, customer service smile already in place.

“Hi, welcome to Verstappen Floral, how can I-”

“Oh, it is you again.”

Logan stops and looks at Max who is frowning at the guy who just came in. The man is curly-haired and tanned, with tattoos scrawled over the majority of visible skin. His grin is big and toothy when he shoots it at Max.

“Hey, Maxy, aren’t you happy to see me?”

Logan blinks in shock at the nickname. Even their regular customers don’t get to act that familiar with Max. Logan doesn’t get to act that familiar with Max.

Max crosses his arms, lips pursing. “For the last time, I do not know what these flowers mean. I speak four languages and plant is not one of them.”

“Always a ray of sunshine, aren’t you, Max?” The man asks, unphased by Max’s grouchy demeanor. He leans forward onto the glass counter, certainly leaving smudges behind, but Max surprisingly doesn’t yell at him about it. “Lando sent me to pick up his order.”

Lando is someone Logan knows. He comes in about every other week and talks to Max about streaming and video games that partly goes over Logan’s head. He always leaves with a red and white bouquet, though the flowers change each time.

“Why could he not come get them himself?” Max grumbles, heading in the direction of the cooler where they kept to-go orders. Daniel shrugs and wraps his knuckles against the glass.

"He was late for a meeting or something, you know I don’t ask about his other job,” Daniel supplies. He changes his focus to Logan and the blond is met with the full force of the man’s mega-watt smile. Logan blames his mom’s genes for how easily he blushes. “Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”

Logan opens his mouth to answer but Max is suddenly im between them, Lando’s bouquet in his hands.

“Yes, this is Logan, no, he does not want any of your garish tattoos.”

Daniel pouts at Logan’s boss. He wonders how it doesn’t look strange for a guy who’s at least 30 to be pouting.

“Don’t be mean, Maxy. I wasn’t even going to mention the tattoos.”

Logan racks his brain for tattoo shops nearby. They obviously have a close relationship outside of just Lando. And Lando did say he worked for an artist…

“Oh hey, are you the Honey Badger?” Logan asks, moving his head to be seen around Max’s wider frame. Daniel jerks his eyes away from Max’s, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “I pass by there all the time. Not a lot of shops do American style out here.”

Daniel’s face lights up, looking between Logan and Max. “Max, you hired an American?”

Max sighs, more long-suffering than Logan thinks is necessary. “This is why I did not want you to speak with him. I knew you were going to be weird about it.”

“I’m not being weird!” Daniel argues. “I’m just surprised!”

Max and Daniel have another weird silent staring contest. Logan clears his throat reluctantly and they both snap to him.

“Um, where’d you learn to do that style?”

Daniel looks ready to excitedly burst into the story of his tattooing style and his interest in America, but Max cuts him off by pushing the bouquet into his chest.

“We do not have time for that, these are going to wilt. Take these to Lando.”

“Bossy, bossy,” Daniel murmurs, picking up the bouquet gently. He doesn’t sound annoyed by Max’s demands. Rather amused, actually. He shoots Logan another grin over Max’s shoulder. “I don’t envy you, mate. But hey if you want to talk tattoos, come by the shop sometime.”

“Definitely!” Logan agrees before Max can say anything else on his behalf. Daniel shoots him a one-handed finger gun before turning back to Max. His smile becomes a lot less joking and more sincere.

“See you later, Maximus”

Max loses some of his prickliness, voice soft when he says, “Goodbye, Daniel.”

+ There’s a man talking to Lando at the front desk when Oscar comes in that day. It’s neither of the two Oscar is used to seeing who come talk to Lando pretty regularly. Oscar’s pretty sure one of them’s his boyfriend and the other is his business partner but he can never tell which is which.

“Did you leave Logan alone at the shop?” Lando is asking while Oscar sets his station up.

“Well, I had to do it at some point,” the guy says, his accent reminiscent of German or Dutch. “What is the point of hiring another employee if I cannot leave for a few minutes?"

“Daniel never leaves me alone here,” Lando points out, a tad resentful. Oscar snorts.

“That’s because he has control issues,” Oscar claims. Both of the men look at him, one in amusement and one in confusion.

“Who are you?” The mystery guy asks. Weird, Oscar was going to ask him the same thing. He looks to Lando who makes the introductions.

"Max, this is Oscar, Daniel's new apprentice. Oscar, this is Max, one of our neighbors."

Oscar frowns. "I thought Max was your..." he trails off, leaving space for Lando to fill in the blank. He waves his hand.

"Different Max. This is Max Verstappen, he run's Verstappen Floral."

The new Max is still looking at him strangely. "Daniel does not take apprentices. He says he is a bad teacher."

Oscar shrugs, not sure what to tell him. He doesn't know how he got the job either. Luckily, he's saved from having to respond by Daniel coming out of the back office.

"Oscar, good, you're here, I wanted to talk about-" Daniel stops abruptly when he sees Max standing in the lobby. His entire demeanor shifts when he says, "Max, hey! What are you doing here?"

Daniel is normally a friendly guy, sometimes too much in Oscar's opinion, but he's practically glowing as he bounds over to Max. While Max's expression doesn't shift, his body language opens up to Daniel like one of his blooming flowers.

"I am talking to Lando about our stream tonight," Max answers. "He has not been very forthcoming with the details."

Lando tries to protest but even Oscar can see that it's a lost cause. This new guy showed up and suddenly it's like nothing else exists to Daniel. His boss giggles at nothing and that's when Oscar decides to get back to work.

[jinkiezzsstuff]

AAA I really love your alastor movie night story! Any chance you can make a part 3 ? 🥺

Absolutely! so sorry i got to you late but i wasn’t ignoring just preparing! i hope you enjoy this one too, although it’s not movie centred this time, rather a continuation of the last!

Part [1] [2] (although technically it could be read as a stand alone)

Summary: Alastor wasn’t proud of his admission during the movie night, instead he decided to treat you to a surprise date, one where he can get a better feeling on what his emotions are.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol drinking, Alastor who’s not pleased with romantic emotions, possibly ooc?, alastor mentions knowing french, homie manipulates the surroundings with his magic, no bodytype/hairtype/skin colour mentions, i think that’s it! lmk!

word count: 2.4k

Alastor wasn’t too familiar with the current feeling he was experiencing, but he knew it was related to romance. The way his heart thumped, and his mind always seemed to fall back to thought of you that night. You seemed to be highly interested in him, not only as a powerful overlord, but as his less interesting mortal self, and that made not only his ego kick start but his heart. After the stunt he pulled, telling you he loved you, and kissing you softly, he knew he was in trouble.

He thanked all the unholy that the next day you didn’t seem to spread the news like wildfire around the hotel, however he did speak to Rosie about such affairs, as she would be the one to know best. The trip was like any others he took to Rosie’s but this time he got plentiful advice concerning love, romance, dates and the other unsavoury aspects he mentioned he’d rather hear little of.

That brought him to tonight, in his room was a make up of land that was much like the foliage he had back in his home in New Orleans. Since you seemed very interested in his home life, he decided to set up a date around it, show you a little of what his home was like. It made him feel sickeningly domestic, preparing to show you something near and dear to his heart, like opening up his memories and displaying them just for you. He set up nice wood table for the two of you to eat at, with some of his favourite dishes set out, even the deserts he wasn’t a fan of he laid out just in case you wanted to try some.

Around his room sprung up some weeping willow trees, the wooden floor turned to dirt as well as grass, and the forest that was once there became a bayou, what you were so curious about during the movie. He decided to share some of his other past, voodoo artifacts he replicated from his past life, some old songs he was a big fan of, as well as one of his old dictionaries that had both French and English. Alastor made some other arrangements, his shadows were forced to play jazz, he magicked some fireflies to light up the false sky above, he essentially created an illusion of the woods near his home, aside from the bayou.

Closing the door to his bedroom he materialised his microphone tossing it up once before taking a confident stride. It was time to put on the southern charm he knew he could effortlessly woo you with. As he sauntered down the hall he began to get more nervous, after all that night was all about the movie, what if it wasn’t true what you had said?

He didn’t have time to dwell, lifting his hand he knocked rhythmically on your door, waiting patiently as you shuffled around. Opening the door, you were shocked to trail your eyes across the radio demon, you half expected to see Angel, as he’s been pestering you ever since he picked up on you eyeing Alastor more often. Fixing your posture you smiled at him, feeling a little self conscious that he caught you at a time you looked, well, not great. You were in leisure clothes, relaxed and had been laying in bed all day.

“How’re you Alastor, can I help ya?” You ask, quirking your head to the side. Alastor barged into your room pushing past you, perhaps when you first met him you’d be unsettled but you’ve come to love Alastor’s presence and the way he carried himself; even the tad bit annoying aspects like barging in uninvited. “Oh my dear I am just fantastical! And I was oh so hoping you’d join me for dinner tonight?” Your eyebrows raised as you shut the bedroom door, Alastor had been in your room before but he noted little upgrades like a record player, some photos of you and the group plastered against a mirror.

You looked down at your attire, and looked to the clock. “Uhm, like how soon is dinner? I look a mess Al.” You sighed softly not wanting to reject him but also immediately feeling pressure to be and look your best. Alastor flicked his wrist, tossing his head back in disbelief. “Please my dear don’t think of me so lowly.” Before you can respond to his random comment he snapped his fingers and suddenly you body felt hugged by new fabrics. Gazing down at yourself you were greeted by formal garments that were clearly from the late nineteen twenties.

Smiling softly at the gesture you looked up at Al who was already looking at you through lidded eyes, his hands clasped in front of him. “You look wonderful darling, truly.” Although still boisterous sounding, it was a lot more tame and meaningful than his prior theatrics. Alastor couldn’t deny the way he felt looking at you doused in clothes from his time, it made him feel something firey within him. Slowly he offered his hand to you, a charming smile upon his face. “Shall we dear?”

Now you both stood at Alastor’s bedroom door, he was tense and nervous about how you’d react. Regardless of how he presented himself with his suit and his pious demeanour, he was still that louisiana man who had a big heart for his home and the culture surrounding it and didn’t want judgement surrounding some of his favourite aspects about home like the cricket noises, swamp, and of course the food. It was a new and interesting worry since being in hell as he didn’t really worry about his past life since, but the night you two shared opened his eyes.

Finally pulling himself together Alastor pushed opened the bedroom door, stepping aside with a ‘ladies first’. It was gorgeous, the moment you walked it you were hypnotized. Obviously, Alastor grew up in the more outback of New Orleans since his entire aesthetic was mossy forests and obviously the deer hunting, however this was a beauty beyond compare. There was a mock up night sky above, firefly’s lit the way to a small table displayed with foods. There was tall and short grass all around, as well as willow trees that sagged low dusting the ground with their leaves. On the furthest side of the room, on the other side of the table, there was a bayou you could see as you walked in. On the mossy murky water there were lilipads with frogs croaking out, that paired with the crickets gave a soothing camp like ambiance.

Grinning widely, Alastor smiled, pulling your chair out for you to sit. Once seated he sat across from you, you were glad it wasn’t one of those long tables but something closer and personal, where you could still reach over and touch him. “I thought since you seemed to enjoy that movie so much, y’know, I can’t show you my home but i can show you parts of it.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so widely, you had no idea how he did it, and you took another sweep around the room soaking up all that you could see. “Alastor, this is amazing! I can’t express my gratitude and also excitement that you were willing to do all this.” You admit getting shyer as the sentence went on; the weight of the act dawning on you. Alastor hummed, eyes closed as well as his smile, and to you it seemed like his typical indifference he was keen on displaying, however the truth was Alastor had no clue how to properly respond to it. You had inadvertently pointed out the fact he went out of his way for you, with his magic on top of that, and that wasn’t something he was proud of.

Snapping his fingers, the shadows he’d forced into musicians began their strumming, and singing. You jumped a bit at the sound, although you did recognize the song being played, which surprised you. “So Al, can I ask what possessed you to pull this together?” Alastor, who was in the middle of serving the two of you some red wine, paused briefly, if you looked close enough at his smile and his eyes you’d be able to see the hesitancy behind them.

Closing the bottle he placed it back on the table, and took a sip, stalling his response. “My dear, we had quite the night together didn’t we? That movie opened up some interesting doors.” The non answer-answer Alastor gave you made you a tad bit nervous. Saying nothing you sipped your wine, and took in his appearance. Despite the date being a formal situation, he was dressed more relaxed, not by much this was Alastor. However he did have his suit jacket set aside, he wore a washed out looking red button up, with his red vest and he still had his tie on. It was quite the rare sight, you’ve barely seen him look normal, he’s always playing that character that’s immune to everything others aren’t; no matter if it were demons or humans.

Deciding that it was better to enjoy your time with him then pester about his intentions; you knew who Alastor was and the horrific things he could do, and you still chose to ignore it. It’s more fun that way. Digging into your food the two of you made small talk, mainly Alastor as he explained certain dishes and tid bits on his mothers version of the cooking, as well as certain voodoo topics and misconceptions. The longer the wine set in, the more you flirted, and although Alastor wasn’t as affected by the wine as you were, he still returned the gestures with a soft smile.

“I didn’t know you spoke french, what?” You leaned on the table resting the side of your head on your palm, the food that was once on the table gone. “Yes my dear! New Orleans is bilingual.” The deer laughed cheerily at the awe and wonder in your eyes, as if it was such a spectacular thing. “That’s pretty hot, y'know laddies n lads love the french language.” Taking another sip of your wine, Alastor followed in suit, sipping his wine smile relaxed. “I really only care for what you think.” With the deep hushed tone he said the sentence in, made heat crawl from your neck to the pit of your stomach. “Well I think it’s pretty hot.”

You bit your nail watching Alastor’s ears twitch at your words. “Such gamy words dear, couldn’t you express yourself through more appropriate terms?” Alastor chided playfully, wiggling his figure at you. You grinned, biting your lip with mischief in mind. Tapping your lip, you looked up, giving an exaggerated impression that you were in a contemplative state. Then, perking up, finger in the air with a ‘light bulb’ expression you sarcastically spoke. “My dearest Alastor, your ability to converse in French, seduces me. Better?”

Alastor hummed gently, shaking his head side to side. “I’m afraid that’s still rather forward of you dear.” After speaking Alastor tipped his glass finishing his wine. “I hope that wasn’t making you uncomfortable.” You say cautiously worried that he may be serious, embarrassed you leaned back in your seat distancing yourself just slightly. Alastor felt a ping of distaste hit him when you retracted your body, and he had to refrain himself from pulling or beckoning you back in. “Not at all, if i was you’d surely know.” The ominous grit he got when threatening people made an appearance, but didn’t last long before he relaxed. Deciding to push forward, he stood, ushering his shadows away from playing songs, he walked over to you offering his arm. “Would you like to see the bayou you were so enthralled with? The real deal?”

Alastor looked down at you through lidded eyes, his tone silken. As you looked up at him you could get a peek of his tail flicking back and forth methodically. Taking him by the arm you stood, and so he guided you away from the table as the room morphed with hazy black shadows into a different scene. The two of you now stood on a dock, looking out on the bayou, fireflies flickered by, crickets and cicadas made their ambient noises, the water would occasionally splash with a fish, it was beautiful. “So Al,” You start nervously, looking at the demon who still held you close via your interlocked arms.

Alastor hummed a static sounding hum looking down at you. “Uh, I, well remember what you said the night we split from the movie?” Alastor’s brow quirked, smirked down at you he strung out a yes that sounded teasing, of course he knew where this conversation was going, but at this point in the night he’d gotten more comfortable with the idea of it. “I was wondering, if you still meant it?” Alastor nodded slowly looking into the murky waters of the bayou, looking a little zoned out. “Yes, I do think so. I’m certain if you’d ask me to kill for you I would, if you needed my help I’d help, if you’d ask for my advice I’d give it. I'm not familiar with many aspects of love but I'm definitely fond enough of you to do a laundry list of things I wouldn't do for others.”

Alastor turned his body to you, gently willing your own to do the same with both his hands on your shoulders. With his head lifted high he looked down at you through his lashes, a coy smile appearing on his lips at the sight of your sudden bashfulness. With a soft hand, he lifted your chin to gaze at him. As much as he hated to admit it, there was something addictive in the way you made him feel and the way you were so responsive to him, be it his touch or his words. Oh he knew he liked you now, unfortunate state of events for him.

Watching your eyes blink up at him patiently made him solidify what he was going to do. Bending to your level, he looked into your eyes making sure you fully understood what he was planning on doing, briefly your eyes bounced around his face making sure you were reading him correctly and when you were certain your eyes fluttered he closed the window of space between you. Compared to the chaste kiss he gave you the night of the movie, this one could’ve been considered ravenous, he pulled you close almost immediately, wrapping his arms around your torso and neck. Your hands cautiously came up around his waist and up to his back pulling him nearer.

Alastor’s movements were slow and thought through, and when he pulled away from the passionate kiss, he immediately pulled you into a hug to hide the emotion he knew would be in his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to be that vulnerable yet, but in due time, perhaps he’d try.

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter six, dumb and poetic)

‘You're so sad there's no communication, but, baby, you put us in this situation. You're running so fast from the hearts that you're breakin' save all your breath for your floor meditation. you're so empathetic, you'd make a great wife. well, you crashed the car and abandoned the wreckage fuck with my head like it's some kind of fetish.’

summary; you see spencer for the first time, since he left for his case (and then ghosted you) only its the last place you expected, and provides you with less closure and more confusion

warnings; reader is a (rightfully so) bitch in this, as she should, fem reader, ghosting, miscommunication, its awkward, its sad, so much angst, no comfort, (fluff flashback tho!) mentions reader being able to speak french, reader has long enough hair to tie up, reader is a bow wearing girly.

Taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules @ameerakane20 @lucere @cultish-corner @psyches-reid

2.3k words.

SERIES MASTERLIST



“That one looks interesting” you mumbled as you repositioned to sit up a little straighter in bed, leaning closer to the laptop screen as you looked over the upcoming releases at the cinema downtown. It was a french film, sure there was other films in english but none of them seemed as interesting.

“Mhm, do you wanna go see it?” Spencer asked, he wasn’t paying much attention to what you were talking about as he sat behind you, you were placed in between his thighs, your back pressed against his chest, his chin had started by being pressed against your shoulder when the two of you began looking for movies, since then his head had moved to be nuzzled in between your shoulder and neck, placing soft kisses along the skin he could reach, every now and again reaching up to kiss along your jaw.

You leant further back against him with a gentle smile, your head tilting in order to allow him more access to the skin of your neck as he arms wrapped tighter around your waist, pulling your further against him, your hands placing gently against his forearms, every now and again lifting one to scroll through the website. “It doesn’t come out for another month”

He shrugged, “We can go see it when its out.” He mumbled against your skin as he continued to press gentle kisses there. You let out a warm laugh, lifting one hand to run gently through his hair.

“You don’t even know what it is” you said, since he hadn’t lifted his head to look at the screen since it had found place nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You weren’t necessarily complaining and you found it half sweet how he agreed to what you wanted without even knowing what it was.

He huffed slightly, the air coming out warm let leaving goosebumps to raise on your arms as you felt it against the skin of your neck before he tilted his head away to look at the computer screen. There was hardly a second that passed as he read over the description, before he was speaking again. “It seems good. We can go see it.” He said.

You smiled, “Really?” Although you knew either way if it was what you wanted to see, he would make sure you saw it.

“Mhm, it’s in french though, no subtitles” he read what was written. His hand gently slipping under your shirt to rub softly over the skin of your stomach, wanting the skin to skin contact, wanting to just feel that you were there with him. “I can whisper translate to you.” he said.

your heart warmed at the idea of spencer sitting through the entire moving, whispering french translations into your ear, but it also warmed at the fact that he had no idea. “You don’t need to.” You said gently.

He shrugged, “Its no big deal. If you wanna see it, we will see it. I want you to be able to know whats going on”

You let out a hearty laugh as he misunderstood what you meant, you hadn’t told him that he didn’t need to translate for you out of guilt. “Spence, i know french, honey. I will understand.”

He pulled away a little bit. Your head turned back to look at his face, his lips parted in shock and eyebrows furrowed, “you know french? i didn’t know you knew french?” He seemed so offended that he didn’t know this little detail about you until now.

You laughed, “Theres a lot you don’t know about me, spencer reid.”

The lobby is crowded, filled with the low hum of chatter and the smell of popcorn. You stand near the back of the line, staring at the poster for the French documentary you’ve been meaning to see for weeks. The one you were supposed to see with Spencer.

You’ve asked yourself a hundred times why you’re even here. It’s been a month since he vanished from your life—no explanation, no goodbye. Just gone. You’d told yourself you weren’t going to think about him anymore, that it was time to let it go. But here you are, at the very movie theater you both planned to go to, clutching your phone like it’s going to somehow give you the answers he refused to.

The line moves forward, and you shuffle with it, your mind elsewhere. You’re so distracted, you don’t even notice the people behind you until a soft voice breaks through the noise.

“Hey, I love your bow!”

You turn slightly, catching a glimpse of the woman behind you. She’s blonde, with a friendly smile, standing next to a tall man who’s looking down at something in his hands. You don’t get a good look at him—your mind barely registers the compliment, just the vague, polite impulse to thank her.

“Thanks,” you mumble, turning back to the counter, but there’s something nagging at the edges of your awareness. Something familiar about the way the man next to her is standing.

Before you can stop yourself, you glance back again—and this time, your heart stops.

Spencer.

He’s standing right there, next to the blonde woman who just complimented you. His eyes are wide, almost startled when they meet yours. For a second, no one says anything. The air between you tightens, thick with an awkward tension that makes your stomach churn.

It’s like time freezes for a moment. The noise of the theater fades into the background, and all you can hear is the rapid beating of your own heart. You weren’t prepared for this. Seeing him here, like nothing’s changed, like the last month hasn’t been this gaping wound he left behind.

The blonde woman—JJ, you realize now—follows his gaze, and when she sees the look on your face, her smile falters. “Oh,” she says quietly, piecing it together. “You must be...”

You force a smile, even though your heart is hammering in your chest. “Yeah...”

Spencer shifts uncomfortably, clearly unsure of what to say. His mouth opens, but no words come out. You’d find it almost comical, how off-guard he looks, if you weren’t so furious. He was supposed to be better than this—better than just disappearing on you, breaking promises like you didn’t matter.

JJ, bless her, tries to diffuse the awkwardness. “We were just talking about this movie a few weeks ago,” she says, her voice bright but strained. “Spencer said he had plans to see it.”

“Yeah,” you say, the sarcasm slipping into your tone before you can stop it. “Im sure he did.”

Spencer’s face tightens at your words, and for a split second, you see a flash of guilt in his eyes. But it’s not enough. He hasn’t earned the right to feel guilty—not after what he did.

JJ shifts awkwardly beside him, clearly uncomfortable. “I, um—” She gestures vaguely toward the ticket counter, like she’s trying to give you both some space, but the tension is too thick to be diffused so easily.

You turn to face Spencer fully now, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “So,” you say, keeping your voice as even as possible, “you’re alive.”

He winces at the accusation in your tone, but he doesn’t argue. He just nods, his voice quiet. “Yeah. I...I’ve been working.”

“Working,” you repeat, bitterness surging like bile in your throat. “Right.”

There’s a pause, and you can see the wheels turning in his head, like he’s searching for the right thing to say, but nothing comes. He’s always been good with words, but now, standing here in front of you, he looks like a man completely out of his depth.

The silence stretches on, thick and uncomfortable, and JJ glances between the two of you, clearly picking up on the history she hadn’t been aware of until now. “I didn’t realize,” she says quietly, almost to herself, but you catch it anyway.

You give her a tight smile. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” It wasn’t her fault.

It’s not fine. Nothing about this is fine. You had spent weeks trying to figure out what you did wrong, you didn’t even know why you were here. Why you decided to torture yourself with the night that was suppose to belong to you and him. You told yourself a thousand times that maybe he was too busy, that maybe he had a good reason. But seeing him here, casually buying tickets like nothing happened, makes it all feel worse. Like you were the only one who cared.

Spencer shifts again, looking like he wants to say something but can’t find the right words. “I...I didn’t mean for things to happen like this,” he says softly, and there’s something almost pleading in his tone, like he’s asking for forgiveness.

But you’re not ready to give him that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Right,” you say, your voice colder than you intend. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

JJ gives Spencer a look, something unreadable passing between them. She murmurs something about checking on the tickets and steps away, giving you two some space.

You don’t move. You just stand there, staring at him, waiting for him to say something—anything—that will make this better. That will make you understand why he hurt you like this. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, looking like he wishes he could disappear.

“Im sorry.” he admits after a long pause, his voice low. “I really am.”

You laugh, but it’s not a real laugh. It’s bitter, hollow. “Right.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but you can see the hesitation in his eyes. You hoped he’d say more. That the moment you saw him again he would explain, that there would be a valid reason. Yet standing here, looking at him with all the hurt in the world swirling in your stomach, you know he’s not going to give you the closure you need. He’s too afraid to dive into whatever it is that made him pull away. And in this moment, you realize that maybe you’ll never get that closure—not from him, at least.

“I have to go,” you say abruptly, turning toward the exit before he can stop you. You can’t do this. Not here. Not now.

As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on your back, but he doesn’t follow. He doesn’t call out to you. He just lets you go, like he let you go a month ago.

And this time, you’re the one who disappears.

[splatooshy]

tvdu headcanons

yes these are completely correct, no i do not take criticism. either compliment me and my clever thoughts or walk away.

damon

- pretends his initials stand for ‘damon fucking salvatore.’

- Humanity isn’t something Damon lacks. He ignores it sometimes, but he did that when he was human too

- shy. so PAINFULLY shy. that didn’t change until post 70s.

- fav colour is jade green.

- born in italy, then lily had multiple miscarriages over 5 years and giuseppe decided they would move to america for better prospects, and stefan was born in mf.

- giuseppe despised anything ‘foreign’, and would lock damon in the cellar when he slipped up. never mind that damon didn’t really know any english.

- named his first horse (a shetland pony) sir handsome. loved his horses. hated people, loved animals.

- bibliophile. brains over brawn.

- gets banned from new orleans every few decades. marcel HATES him. also was in nola in 1914, freya and kol both took pity on him/ befriended damon after he managed to piss off the witches AND marcel in one day.

- always had the most inconvenient crushes as a human. the first was the daughter of some middle class storekeeper when he was eight. the second was emily bennett (his secret bff) and the third was a dude with a horse when he was a teenager. stablehand/riding instructor/ young gent passing through, named sebastian. giuseppe caught the boys fooling around one day and promptly shot sebastian in the head, before beating damon within an inch of his life (WOAH I WROTE THIS SO CASUALLY). damon never fully recovered.

- finds grimoires to bring to his favourite witch at the time. often the spells are super wacky and mostly useless.

- chatty and clingy drunk.

- after augustines, physically cant sleep alone, and half the time wakes up only to realise he’s killed his bedpartner (strangling, decap., suffocation etc.)

- in the 30s, he became a professional dancer.

stefan

- fav colour is an icy, glacial blue.

- nobody knows what his first language is. His first few words were either Italian or French, but it’s not certain which one. of course, giuseppe locked damon in the cellar for that.

- first horse was sir handsome, a hand-me-down from damon. loved both people and animals, but most of all loved when damon was introducing him to the animals.

- actually the cutest little child ever. big green eyes and floppy blonde-ish hair. looked like a five-year-old until he was 13? 14? and then suddenly shot up really quick.

- bull in a china shop. brawn over brains.

- the ‘ripper’ was created by lexi. she isolated and abused stefan, manipulating him into whatever she wanted.

- chronic migraine sufferer.

- as a human, he physically could not eat when nervous, which just so happened to be 80% of the time.

- rarely gets drunk but is a very outgoing and slutty drunk.

- lizard brain blood lusty ripper stefan only speaks italian.

- model aeroplane / train / car kind of guy.

- tumbled down into a well twice as a human.

- built the engine for the first automobile, passed it onto henry ford.

enzo

- likes the challenge of getting his way without resorting to compulsion (which is cheating.)

- has the stickiest fingers. he didn’t become a little street urchin in london without picking up some skills.

- turned by jack the ripper in 1888. approached him mid-murder.

- physically incapable of hating damon. and believe me, he’s tried.

- after augustines, physically cant sleep alone, and half the time wakes up only to realise he’s killed his bedpartner (strangling, decap., suffocation etc.)

klaus

- went to college a few times to study art. ended up stabbing the teacher [with a paintbrush] because they critiqued his work.

- was tsar nicholas 2 as a joke, purposely ended the dynasty.

elijah

- slipped ecstasy into klaus’ drink in the 80s just to see what would happen.

rebekah

- had a habit of accidentally wandering as a kid.

- clairvoyant / clairsentient.

- very partial to throwing knives.

kol

- bffs with charles 2, gets knighted (inspired by that episode of parks and rec where ben and andy meet the rich british guy)

- refers to stefan as klaus’ estranged paramour

- mixes vervain and wolfsbane into joints and such to get klaus to chill the fuck out. and mixing vervain into other drugs and stuff so that they’d affect him - damon joins the operation in 1914.

- was jack the ripper in 1888, saw a man drowning in his own blood in an alleyway, just watching as kol disemboweled a prostitute, before approaching him like ‘please sir, can you spare any change?’ and kol was delighted.

- damon pissed off marcel in 1914 and kol decided at that moment they were best friends.

- BIG fan of the ottoman empire. it only collapsed because kol was daggered.

- has grimoires full of odd spells.

alaric

- owns vervain coated knuckle dusters

- basically begs damon to talk history with him.

elena

- pre-accident: queen bee and she knew it. at her core, she is self-centred and used to getting her way. this only changes with her parents’ accident, but eventually elena reverts back into her old self.

- refers to katherine as her identical grandmother

[ - bitchy stares. not even an rbf, her face is just super expressive and you can tell when she’s judging you ]

caroline

- was second to elena all her life, and elena knew how to fuel that envy of caroline’s. but then elena’s parents died and caroline was finally #1, except stefan shows up and it’s back to the elena show again.

[ - well-meaning but tone deaf ]

both elena and caroline are just those bitchy popular girls.

[ bonnie ]

[ i have so many for her but a lot are completely against canon so here’s the ones that could be ]

[ - best cheerleader on the squad // the older girls adopted her as their flyer from day 1 ]

[ - because she’s tiny, yanno? ]

[ - known as the ‘i dunno her but she seems nice’ one, the ‘quiet, seems really sweet but i think she hates me’ one and ‘elena’s minion’ ]

[ - but she’s actually more popular overall ‘cause she does all the volunteering / xtra curricular stuff with caroline and she’s not in your face about it ]

[ - has very weirdly specific daily rituals as to what she eats and when on which day (waffle wednesday), what pyjamas she wears, how her pillows are arranged, etc. ]

[ - she didn’t even notice she did all of that until she was at a sleepover and the other kid’s mum made a different breakfast to what she would usually have on that day and bonnie was like ‘hmm. i seem to be uncomfortable with this. why is that?’ but sucked it up and ate her breakfast without saying anything ]

[korshrimpski]

WHAT CHAOS: Jordan Spence has the NHL's most interesting backstory

my favourite moments from this podcast [Youtube] [Spotify]

First of all they open the podcast like this: "You are the only player from Manly, Australia. Do you feel pressure being the NHL's only Manly man?"

One of the big reasons why the spence family moved to canada was too see what jordan could do playing hockey at a higher level because Japan's big sports is baseball (which he used to play) so hockey was kinda in the background

Spenny mentions how he got into hockey because his dad used to play it growing up. And he also explains where his passion for hockey outgrew baseball is when he would go visit Prince Edward Island in the Spring to play Spring hockey tournaments.

Jordan talks about youth hockey in Japan and how he played people older than him and when he moved to P.E.I people would ask him if there was even hockey in Japan, which was a very common question.

The host asked, "Have you ever crossed paths with Aito Iguchi?" who is a very popular japanese player and used to make hockey content on youtube. And this is another common question spenny is asked (btw the answer is no, he has never skated with him)

They asked if spenny ever had to do early morning training in japan and spenny didn't have any morning practices and the host find that wild

SPENNY TRIVIA #1: he had to travel an hour to go to his team in Japan

There is apparently a lot of Canadian hockey players that live in japan to play pro there so spenny found it cool growing up focusing on their skills and all that (ik i'm terrible at writing and explaining things, please forgive me)

He was not a chirper when he was younger

Part 1 of my favourite part of the podcast: context; when spenny moved to canada he didn't know english. And something that helped him understand english he asked his teammates "what are some bad words i can say" and in return he would teach them bad Japanese swear words

Part 2 of my favourite part of the podcast: when spenny was first trying to learn english he would speak in 3rd person and to quote, "so i would be like, 'oh Jordan hungry' or like, 'Jordan go to bed.'" LIKE?!? that isfucking beautiful i love it so much

then the host actually makes a funny joke saying that it's devastating spenny's english progressed from there because it would be intimidating if he said something like, "Jordan dropping 'em."

they ask about him being trilingual and this is his reaction (please he's so funny)

14. He would like to think he is trilingual but he kinda isn't? Like he can speak japanese and english.

15. But with french he would like it to be known that when Phillip Danault speaks french to him he can understand it, he just finds it tough speaking french.

16. he picked up french because of school and in the Q a lot of people speak french and when he was traded to Val-d'Or (north quebec),everyone spoke french so he had to learn.

17. he called phillip danault 'the man' twice because they were talking about how he was so popular in quebec and montreal

18. he also found it funny that people would speak french in front of them thinking they won't understand it but spenny would (i wish they delved into this more but sadly they didn't)

19. he found the australia experience very awesome and mentions how a lot of content was around him and how that was cool. But at the same time it was weird for him because he doesn't really feel connected to australia because he was only there for a year and a half and has no memory of it, so he felt like an imposter being called australian (I an australian dub the, Jordan Spence, to be a honorary aussie)

20. spenny wishes he had an aussie accent and him saying this made me feel very powerful like yes.... hehehe we are amazing.. hehe

21. then one of the host says, "Imagine if you were out their still having not finished learning English also speaking in an Australian accent." spenny cuts in and says, "third person as well." then the host continues, "third person as well... but doing like 'Jordan hungry' in australian accent, man you'd be, you'd have outrageous endorsement deals." | Like i'm so sorry i found this so funny because now i'm imagining spenny with a mangled aussie accent saying "jordan dropping 'em" and its beautiful 😭😭

22. then spenny does an... okay ish aussie accent. Idk it sounds the same as all the other non-aussies saying "good 'ay mate"

23. QUINTON BYFIELD MENTION 🗣️ (context: the host mentions how spenny learn qb was german through their podcast)

24. also this moment, "I had no clue (context: qb was part german). And you know, I'm really close with him... You know we hang out all the time." Like physically i am well, emotionally my heart has swollen 2 times

25. then they move onto talking about fantasy football and i'm sorry i don't understand fantasy football (i simply cannot comprehend NFL, so this bits going to be with the things i do understand) which is: qb and spenny have been team owners together for the past two year and so far their top guy isn't doing well

26. "whats [qb] like as a buddy?" 27. "he's such a goofball, it's actually crazy." JORDAN SPENCE DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW UNWELL YOU JUST MAKE ME "he's such a goofball" SPENNY AAHAHAHHA

28. hold on the answer continues, "He's such a goofball, it's actually crazy. It's funny for me you know, cause like I know how he is around the boys and like a great guy like he loves fooling around with the guys, you know pranking guys, joking around. And then you'll be- I'll be beside him, he'll just be doing the media and he's like dead serious. And it's like so funny to me cause like that's pretty much the only time he's serious is if he's doing something for the media or obviously when he's playing. So like he's you know, everyone loves him and he's a great player and you know, i'm, we hang out all the time and it's a lot of fun but it's, that's like on of the biggest thing that's kinda funny is the only time he's serious is like when he's playing hockey really." LIKE YES SPENNY!! ramble about your bestie (he's like me fr i will talk about my friends all day long)

29. One time qb and spenny were spotted on an ebike together and the host ask if doubling up on an ebike is a regular occurance and spenny says, "um yeah i think." and the host is like me fr saying, "fuck yeah." to the info

30. they ask about halloween and if spenny and qb have a couples costume planned and they don't. and spenny explains last years costume and how quinton suggested it and how it was very last minute.

31. also spenny is wearing a mets hat but he's not a mets fan he's just a fan of cool hats

32. then they start talking about baseball... i do not understand baseball either,, sorry. I'll try my best for this bit.

33. spenny likes baseball but doesn't have any teams and he usually watchs games for japanese players. and he would love to mention shohei ohtani

34. they ask him his relationship with drew doughty because spenny's family dog is named after hi. Because growing up jordan didn't really root for any team he mainly had players (his top 3 players were, Erik Karlsson, Kris Letang and Drew Doughty (doughty being his fav))

35. spenny calls drew a "goofball" in his rant about how cool drew doughty is and can i just say i love spenny describing people as goofballs

36. after the draft he is asked a questionnaire and one of the questions is "do you have a pet if so what is their name" and jordan was sitting there like "shit this is going to look so bad, because people might think i just got the dog and named it doughty." like my man was stressing

37. but it wasn't until 2 years ago when drew actually found out about the dog because spenny's roommate alex turcotte (a little tidbit: alex and spenny have been roomates for the past 3-4 years) and jordan is pretty sure turkey is the one that told dewey and dewey just starts laughing (thank you turkey for your service to the cause of embarrassing spenny)

38. Now spenny doesn't think to much about the dog being named after drew but when that happened he was so embarrassed

anyways hope you all enjoyed my incoherent rambles :3

[enlitment]

Top 5 underappreciated historical figures!

Thanks for the ask! This one was super fun, but also super difficult to answer. I've purposefully avoided mentioning the ladies of the French Revolution, since I have another question specifically about them lined up.

With that being said, in no particular order:

Fulvia

Anyone in the classics circle likely knows much more about her than I do, but I'm so glad I've discovered her through Tumblr! All of the things I've learned about her so far have been so interesting. It's incredible to see how much political (and military) power a Roman woman was able to yield despite living in a deeply patriarchal society.

(also, the part of me that loves drama really appreciates the story about her stabbing Cicero's tongue with hairpins after the proscriptions and Octavian's atrocious poem about her)

2. Émilie du Châtelet

Also hardly a surprise for anyone who's been following me for a while. Again, the fact that I've only relatively recently found out that there was a female mathematician and physicist in the fist half of the 18th century with such significant contributions to the field makes me almost feel as if I've been lied to.

She is special to me both because she was incredibly smart (she was able to understand Newton like few other people in her time and she spoke so many languages!) but there's also something about her writing that makes her feel deeply human and relatable. I've read some of her texts, and not only are they written in a beautiful prose but they're also incredibly moving. Her view on how to achieve happiness in life is one of the best I've ever came across, and her arguments for the education of women always make me feel so emotional...

...when she says that it was only after she realised that the circle of (male) French intellectuals accepted her among themselves and treated her as equal that she realised she too "might be a thinking creature"... I don't know, there's something about it that always gets to me.

Okay, time to introduce some male historical figures as well! This one is a residue from the time when I was really into the American Revolution.

3. Peter Stephen Du Ponceau

He was probably the only one in Baron von Steuben's original group that was able to speak decent English when they first arrived in the US to join the revolutionary war, which a) makes him quite important b) is kind of funny to think about.

But what I especially like about him is that he was a talented linguist who seemed to have genuine respect for other cultures, which let's face it, was quite rare in his times. While taking part in the American Revolutionary War, he recorded and studied the languages of Native American People. How cool is that?

(He was also potentially queer and I do have a soft spot for queer history)

Okay, guess should bring up someone interesting from Czech history as well. I fully confess that my own country's history is not necessarily my favourite area of study, but for her, I'll always make an exception:

4. Milena Jesenská

Probably most well known as Kafka's (kind of?) girlfriend/pen pal, but there is so much more to her story!

She was a writer and a journalist during the first half of the 20th century. She was really talented and soon made a reputation for herself, which let's face it, wasn't an easy thing to do for women in her time.

After Czechia became occupied by Nazi Germany, she joined the resistance movement and helped Jewish families to escape. She was later transported to a concentration camp, where she worked as a nurse and was said to have been "a moral support for other prisoners". She unfortunately died there when she was only 47. Still, what a life!

5. John Polidori

He's not necessarily my number one favourite person but I'd argue he is one of the most unappreciated figures. Vampires in fiction are massively popular but he rarely gets credited as one of its first authors. (Also the theory that Lord Ruthven, the charismatic, immoral aristocrat featured in The Vampyre is heavily based off on Lord Byron is not only entirely plausible but also quite funny).

Whenever I read something about the Geneva Squad, I always end up feeling kind of bad for him. As a foreigner, someone who was of a lower social status and - since he technically came along as Byron's personal physician - a paid employee, it just seems to me like he was never actually fully part of the group. Maybe I'm wrong, but to me, he felt kind of like a perpetual outsider. Lord Byron also got the credit for writing The Vampyre that should have gone to Polidori.

He was of course far from a perfect saint, with his drug and gambling addiction, but I still can't help but feel that he deserved better.

[debbyswann]

Academic rivals

(short imagine/scenario between a Ravenclaw student and Regulus Black)

(rivalry to more???)

(word count: 1070)

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I sit down at my usual desk, students chatting all around me. I look around, observing my classmates as I wait for the lesson to start. A fellow Ravenclaw student sits next to me, and I gently greet them. We’re exchanging a few words, when I hear a group of other students approaching and I recognise his voice. As I slightly turn to the side, I glance at him while he talks to his friends. Perfect curls, charming voice, spotless uniform…Regulus Black. My eyes linger some more, taking in his appearance and demeanour. While I pretend to look somewhere else, I try to listen in and understand what he’s talking about. I can’t hear his words properly, but I’m sure he’s adding a few French words here in there. I almost roll my eyes; does he really need to do that? Now he’s even saying full sentences in French, leaving his friends half confused, half charmed. The girls are probably fawning over him at this point. I get he knows French; I get it. But there’s no need to use it so randomly. It’s not like he doesn’t know how to speak proper English, so he’s doing it on purpose. Yeah, of course he is. He wants to brag about it, the little show-off. God, I can’t stand him when he’s like this. The way he talks, the perfect nasal sounds, the air of superiority…he’s infuriating. I try to ignore the feeling in my stomach as I hear his soothing voice. I’m sure it’s just because he’s annoying, nothing more. Does he really think he’s the only one who knows a foreign language? I feel very tempted to contradict him. How would he react? Maybe he’d do him some good to be humbled for once...oh, and how tempting to see that arrogant smirk fade. I’m slightly nervous to do something like this, but it’s too late now, the words are begging to come out. I turn to my desk mate in order to avoid looking at him and I mutter:

“C’est un peu prétentieux de parler en français seulement pour démontrer que tu connais une langue étrangère.”

I don’t care if I also sound very arrogant right now, I want him to know that he’s not one step ahead of me. Not this time at least. My desk mate looks very confused, not understanding a single word and why I’m suddenly speaking in another language.

I notice Regulus stopped talking to his friends…he’s definitely heard. My voice was not very loud, but loud enough for him to hear, as he is not far away. I knew he would hear me, he’s always very receptive. The silence is almost deafening, and I know he’s looking at me. I can feel his emerald eyes boring into my skin. But I won’t give him the satisfaction of looking his way…or maybe I don’t want to admit that I wouldn’t be able to keep his gaze. I feign nonchalance, as if I haven’t spoken a single word, and I fix my books and pens on the desk. He’s still silent and with the corner of my eyes I try to steal a glance at him…is he surprised? Is he smirking? I’ll never know for sure because I keep looking straight ahead. Before he can properly react to my challenge, the professor comes in and he soon starts the lesson. I silently let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Later, as class comes to an end, students start leaving the classroom, walking to their next class. I want to be fast and disappear before he can confront me. At the same time, though, I hope he says something about what happened. I quickly pack my things and sneak out of the classroom. But as I’m taking the first steps to walk away, I hear a presence behind me. I know it’s him before he even opens his mouth; I recognise his perfume. “T’appris seulement cette phrase ou tu peux vraiment parler en français?”. I freeze on the spot, my shoulders tensing. I slowly turn to his voice, and I see him literally towering over me, his eyebrows slightly raised. I push away my nervousness and slightly tilt my head up as if to challenge him: “Tu penses être la seule personne qui parle français?”

“Bah, oui”

“Bah, non,” I retort.

He smirks at my reply and says: “Seriously though…How do you even know French?”. I know he’s implying he’s surprised that a poor girl like me knows French, so I narrow my eyes and reply: “How do you know French?”. He snorts and then says: “Ah, you know…it’s a family thing. The noble houses always have a certain education, but you wouldn’t know. My mum taught me some, along with private tutors. Oh, and I spent plenty of summers in France…it just comes natural to me. You can say I’m bilingual”. Everything he says exudes arrogance, but I know he’s just telling the truth. “How about you then?” he asks me, now sounding honestly curious. “Oh, you know…same as you.” I don’t know how I found the courage to joke, but I did. And to my surprise, his lips curl up and he snorts lightly, in an amused way. He then looks at me, expecting the real answer.

“Well… there was this French girl in my orphanage, and she taught me a couple of things. Growing up, I wanted to study foreign languages. Then I got my Hogwarts letter, and everything changed. But I still love foreign languages and study them when I have some free time. English aside, I know French, Italian and Spanish…” I see one of his eyebrows going up; he’s genuinely surprised…or impressed even; I like that. So, I add: “Four is not bad, but I’d like to at least learn one other foreign language. Five would be better."

He smirks mischievously and replies: “C’est un peu prétentieux, non ?”

He’s using my own words against me. I’m speechless at first, then I let out a small snort, shaking my head and poking the inside of my cheek with my tongue. For a few moments, we look at each other with a hint of a smile we’re both trying to suppress. He then straightens himself and says: “See you around, Farrow.” And he leaves, walking to the other direction and leaving me staring blankly at the empty corridor.

[rainintheevening]

🍁🍁Comfy-vember🍁🍁

Day 1: New Day

Grant Ward & Phil Coulson, Agents of SHIELD, AU

-----

"Old habits die hard."

Grant smiled involuntarily, inhaling the steam rising off his coffee. "Speak for yourself." He glanced up, watching Coulson select a mug bearing the red and blue Captain America shield and pour his own drink, add the one sugar, the dash of milk.

Routine, comforting.

I missed you, burned on the tip of his tongue, but he'd already said it enough.

He had woken at take-off, and Agent May had already come and gone with her morning beverage, apparently preferring the solace of the cockpit, even with the Bus on autopilot.

"What are you reading?" Coulson sat next to him at the galley bar, glanced over.

Grant flipped the front half of the book up so he could see the cover. David Grossman's On Combat. "Re-read. Think I'll make it Skye's first required read."

Coulson's eyes flicked up to hold Grant's, a probing look, before a smile flickered across his face. "Good idea. Maybe balance it with Jane Austen though?"

Grant snorted a laugh. "There's a reason I hated English, you know."

"Really?" A raised eyebrow. "And here I thought you liked reading."

"Come on. I only survived senior year Shakespeare because we got to put on our own version of Julius Cesar, and I got to be stabbed."

"You were good at that." Coulson blew on his coffee, smiling a little, gaze unfocused as if remembering.

A sudden ache in his throat, and Grant had to look away, down at the page he could no longer read. Sure, it had been almost a week since the man he called "Dad" had returned from the dead. But it had been an incredibly hectic week, with Rising Tide hackers and exploding people, and even now they were bound for Costa Rica to assess a good old 0-8-4. This was the first time they'd had a morning like this, slow and easy, coffee and a book and quiet banter.

He wished it could last forever, the way it had seemed to when he was 17, and the summer sun was barely up, and he was raring to be off to his job at Bell's Hardware. But he wasn't 17 anymore, and this wasn't Klamath Falls, and much as he loved his job he never knew what might happen in a day.

"Do you think Skye's settling in alright?"

He blinked back his surge of emotion, focused on Coulson's question.

Skye. Right. "I think so." She could be annoying and juvenile, but Grant had started to respect her smarts, and she could be funny too. "She has no idea how to cook though," he added. "Other than boxed mac and cheese, and microwave meals."

"You can teach her."

The confidence in Coulson's voice warmed Grant as much as his first sip of coffee.

He'd had some good teachers—Coulson, of course; Agent Huff in his first year at the Academy; and his own SO, John Garrett. But he'd never been in the position of passing on that knowledge to someone else. What if he got it wrong? What if he got her killed?

That thought had him swallowing harder than necessary. "You sure, Dad?" It came out quieter than he liked.

"Of course." A hand came to rest on his shoulder, squeezed gently. "I wouldn't give you the job if I didn't think you could do it." An old familiar phrase, and Grant couldn't answer, merely nodding his head a few times.

He would never be able to express his gratitude for having his dad back, never.

"Alright, son?"

Grant cleared his throat, turned his head away to knuckle some moisture from his eyes. "Yeah," he muttered. He glanced at Coulson, summoning a little grin. "You're on breakfast duty, you know. When was the last time you made French toast? Or do I need to teach you that?"

A snort of laughter, before Coulson cuffed him gently on the head. "Young punk," he muttered.

The smell of cooking pulled the others from their bunks, and Coulson quickly found himself swamped in the tiny galley.

Grant found himself laughing at the near-chaos, and met Coulson's gaze with a little salute of his mug across the room, before he polished off the last mouthful of coffee.

Sure it was a different morning than the ones they'd once had. But that didn't mean it couldn't be good.

[crsssie]

from one admirer to another : sunny side up?

pairing: leon kennedy x reader || masterpost: from one admirer to another

synopsis: from one admirer to another, an online penpal service, allows for two people with common interests to write to each other without ever revealing their actual address! Luckily for both you and Leon, you get matched up! What do eggs and Christmas even have in common anyway? sure hope it's that modeling business and NOT that Ada Wong addiction.

featuring: reader as scrambled eggs // leon as christmas

Dear scrambled eggs,

¿Empezar por flexionar tu francés? Dos pueden jugar ese juego. Just kidding. That was machine-translated. I know minimal Spanish. I asked a guy for directions once and he started speaking English to me. That's how bad my Spanish is.

The extent of my Spanish is whatever I learned in college for my one year of a required language. I know how to ask where the library is and how to not die. I think that's enough. Thankfully, I'm in France and I don't look nearly French enough. Though, someone has stopped me to ask me if I am French. I'm not.

Thank you for the snacks. I got an earful from my manager, but the calorie count somehow convinced him that I can eat it without dying (gaining weight). I shared some with the other people in my airbnb, but some of the other more popular models have already gone back. It was so good.

Don't worry, I'm not going to go insane. I'm nicely adjusted to the fact that I shouldn't actually start thinking I'm dating someone. I haven't needed to use that sentence of yours yet, but— sorry, just did. I just had a young woman come up to me and ask me if I was single or something and then repeat the question in English. Am I... the rizzler? (is that how you use that) I'm kidding. I told her I had a girlfriend... or whatever you told me to say.

You think I'm ever going to end up dating that model? I don't.

Oh, right. The other models wanted to thank you, so I'm mailing back a signed magazine from most of the models here. Only person that didn't sign was Ada (obviously). Hope you like it.

Catch you back in Raccoon? Christmas

To be fair, Leon wasn't trying to smudge ink on his letter.

"T’as des beaux yeux, tu sais?"

Leon looks up at the person asking the question, blinking slowly.

"Ah, sorry. I... Je parle pas le Français." Leon laughs awkwardly.

"Oh, no problem." The girl smiles. "Single?"

"Ah, non. J'ai une petite amie?" Leon thinks that's how you say it. "Désolé."

"In America?"

Leon nods, waving as she nods and steps off.

Leon's heart rattles against his chest, heartbeat erratic as he takes a sip of his coffee, mumbling quietly to himself. He's still not used to being hit on by people. In retrospect, he really should be, but even as he writes the letter to you, he really thinks he's grateful no one took advantage of him in the industry. Raccoon wasn't an easy place to climb, and the fact that he's gotten up the ranks relatively cleanly is pretty impressive.

Well, always harder to climb ranks as a woman.

"Mind if I sit here?"

"A-Ada!" Leon nods, Ada smiling as she takes a seat. "Are you enjoying Paris?"

"I come here every year, so... same old." She hums. "I heard it's one of your first times. How did your shows go?"

"It went okay." Leon smiles.

"Writing a letter?"

"Penpal." He hums.

"One admirer to another?" She stares down at the handwriting, and Leon smiles.

"Yes."

"Huh. Interesting."

"Have you done it?"

"No. No time." She thanks the waiter for her coffee, taking a photo before Leon seals his envelope. "Who's your penpal?"

"An egg enthusiast." Leon hums. "When's your flight back?"

"In two hours. I like this place a lot." She hums, ripping her croissant in half. "Come here a lot with my friend." She raises a brow at him as she takes a bite, and Leon shakes his head.

"I can't control who I like."

"I know." She hums. "Don't break their heart."

"I can't do that if they don't like me."

"You don't know that."

Leon wonders if there's hope in her words.

prev letter : masterlist : next letter

[buffporcupine]

death note headcanons

because i know my death note mutuals aren’t getting what they wanted from me

light

-can crack his elbows the way one would crack their knuckles

-probably had to do a musical elective in his first year of middle school and chose guitar cause he thought it would be easy but it wasn’t.

-the type of song he really enjoys is very specific. going to hell yet i tried so so hard to please god song. i missed my only chance song. why wasn’t i like the other kids song. thrones playlist. i could elaborate but i won’t

-as for sexuality, i see him as not wanting to put a label on whatever he is in theory but in practice being some type of bispec (probably berriromantic) for romantic attraction and then somewhere on the asexual spectrum for sexual attraction.

-as for gender i see him as agender whose not really in labeling himself as anything when it comes to sexuality and gender.

-agender but probably 100% fine with being super male presenting. he just wants to keep out of gender as a convo and that’s great. good for him

-no!!!!! i refuse to say this mf is aromantic (because it’s not accurate and it’d be an insult to aromantic people to say he’s aro)!!!!!

-just because he manipulated misa and kiyomi into doing his bidding and didn’t love them doesn’t immediately make him aro. i’m sure he could have found someone if he wanted to, and he could have loved them if he was with them to love them, but he wasn’t with them to love them he was with them to use them.

misa

-half belgian half japanese. her parents met in belgium while her father was on vacation.

-also im torn bcos i wanna write an au where misa is mexican and that’s it everything else is the same as canon but i’m pretty sure that’s just me wanting her to be even more Like Me (tm)

-speaks a little bit of english, way more french, and obvi japanese. finds linguistics interesting but doesn’t have enough time to research it that thoroughly

-likes being short and “small” small girl aesthetic i guess but sometimes wishes she had longer legs so she could wear skirts w/o looking silly and short

-panromantic does not see gender at all when becoming attracted to someone. i see her as def on the ace spectrum, maybe something like demisexual or aegosexual. could be me projecting dunno.

-she’s probably dated both girls and boys before

-would NOT break up with someone in a rude way or just dump them. she’d put a lot of effort into an apology and explanation into why.

-if she met miu iruma they’d be best friends. sorry i bring danganronpa into everything guys

-can we please just appeciate mexican misa for a second. she’s cooking sopa de fideo for the task and being the bilingual hot girl we all needed

-mexican misa

-as for her music taste she probably listens to upbeat english language music and sappy love songs. “there is a light that never goes out” and “melt with you” sound like go-tos for her sorry. i could also see her being a bimbo pop ayesha + britney manson girlie though

-tbh whatever your race/ethnicity is you could project it onto misa and it’d work. i love it. anyway d d d d d d d did i say m m m mexican misa

-i think she’d love love love getting her hair done!!! sensitive scalp mf but she’d still love getting her hair done

-mexican misa visiting mexico and getting braids and cute clothes and her fave candy

-was not a theatre kid. sorry guys but her middle and high school didn’t offer theatre 😔😔

lawliet

-chronically dehydrated just because he forgets to drink water. he tries to drink water and always gets afraid of developing kidney / liver problems but he just keeps forgetting. what the fuck L

-soup stan i think he’d love some good soup. soup stan x soup cooker (lawmane)

-i think you could have a really deep convo about anything with L. if you’re passionate about anything he’ll just listen and he’ll talk to you about what he’s passionate about to. he loves to think and would def entertain you with a convo about whether a hot dog is a sandwich or something dumb like that you know.

-he’s a thinker he just loves discussions

-has a british accent when speaking english bcos watari and lived in england you know. he thinks british accents in english sound good tho and LOVES making fun of how silly new york accents are (me too bro. me too)

-if he went to middle school or the japanese/british equivalent of it, he’d def be the type to choose some weird ass elective fucking creative writing instead of the “normal” guitar, choir, band, orchestra and shit

[maladaptivedaydr3amer]

Any specific Barty headcanons (my disposable bug-eyed son)??

YOU DO KNOW HOW LONG IVE BEEN WAITING SOMEONE TO ASK ME THIS!!

(I’ve recently just written all of my Barty Crouch Jr headcanons in my notes app; I will warn you there is a lot)

Barty Crouch Jr headcanons.

- (1)Insanely smart

- (2)Really messy blonde hair(you just can’t tame it, and it pisses off Barty Sr. So much)

- (3)He has a mouth like a sailor(meaning he’s always swearing; gets it from his mom)

- (4)Very skinny because one of his dads many punishments is not giving him food

- (5)A mommy’s boy because his mom was always there(but he kind of also has mommy issues, idk it’s just really complicated)

- (6)type of kid that was never able to leave the house(for real the reason why he is so pale)

- (7)hates alcohol, weed and cigarettes with a burning passion

- (8)insomniac(he stays up way to late studying half the time)

- (9)A Ravenclaw

- (10)his bestfriend is Pandora; they both complete opposites because barty is very uptight and pandora is very care-free

- (11)His biggest free is too be like his father

- (12)had a stutter when he was younger(like 11-13)

- (13)He didn’t have any friends in first year and up until the middle of second year when Pandora was like your my friend now

- (14)favorite class is history of magic and charms

- (15)very fascinated with Evan when he first met him

- (16)he’s very opinionated, and does not like to be wrong

- (17)Photographic memory, if he sees something it is glued to his memory

- (18)So very many freckles, like too many

- (19)He comes off very confident and sure of himself, but not gonna lie he’s actually really insecure.

- (20)He actually did pull out a good chunk of his hair when he was studying for his owls

- (21)A prefect in his fifth and sixth years and was head-boy in his seventh year

- (22)loves quidditch but he would never play

- (23)Him and Regulus are academic rivals(their for real frenemies)

- (24)everyone knows about how shitty his relationship is with his father

- (25)When he got all 12 of his O.W.L, that was one of the only times in his life that his dad was proud of him

- (26)He has helicopter parents(his mom more than his dad but still)

- (27)Has dimples

- (28)He has abandonment issues, and social anxiety(oh how he hates ministry party’s but he still has to go to keep up appearances)

- (29)Very dark brown eyes

- (30)He’s actually really fucking weird like(Pandora and him are for real are you gonna match my freak)

- (31)He’s a pretty crier not gonna lie

- (32)Dark circles underneath his eyes

- (33)has some sort of personality disorder

- (34)He’s is the little spoon in the relationship.

- (35)him and Evan were for real made for each other(even though they are a bit toxic)

- (36)he was born like a 3 weeks early(his birthday is October 21rst)

- (37)He was most definitely in the slug club(even though he kinda of sucked at potions, he was only chosen because of who his father was)

- (38)He can be extremely manipulative at times and he is also a great actor(the reason why so many people thought he was innocent after his trial, and that skill has also gotten him out of so much trouble)

- (39)he can easily mask his emotions; anger, sadness, happiness etc.

- (40)He’s extremely clingy to people once they get close

- (41)He got way to close to the Lestranges for his own good after Evan died

- (42)When he gets a really bad letter from his dad he just completely shuts down

- (43)Barty actually had a pretty close relationship with his house-elf, Winky

- (44)He’s can speak so many different languages such as, gobbledegook(the goblin’s language), French, German, English etc.

- (45)Very complicated home-life

- (46)Barty fell first and fell very hard in the Rosekiller relationship

- (47)He will give you the most dirty look if he doesn’t agree with you

- (48)Severely touched starved, he always has to be touching Evan for his own sanity

- (49)His favorite color is a very specific color of blue.

- (50)Top of almost all of his classes(the only classes he’s not top in is divination and potions, which Pandora is the top in both; he kind of hates her for it)

- (51)5’7-5’8

- (52)He for real puts school and grades before his mental health.

- (53)he is very blunt and doesn’t really have filter, and has zero social skills(if you say something wrong or if you pronounce something wrong he will correct you ect.)

- (54)He purposely pisses off Evan half the time

- (55) he wants to be perfect but he’s so far from it

[starwarsmum]

Day 29, finishing up on Third Time Lucky! Prompt is I Spy

Part 1 Part 2

@maribat-calendar-events

“Come on Lil D, I promise it'll be fun!” Dick said, a slight whine in his tone as he looked up at his not-so-little, younger brother. It was strange just how tall Damian had become, almost matching Bruce for height. “We're stuck here until the class gets here anyway, we might as well play a game to pass the time.”

“Grayson, I am not a child, I do not need to try and amuse myself whilst waiting to complete a job,” Damian shot back derisively. Dick gasped and held his hand to his heart as though he had been wounded.

“Dames, buddy, you don't have to be a kid to enjoy games. Besides, I'm bored but I can't play it alone.”

“Your inability to prepare for an assignment is hardly my problem,” Damian replied scathingly, giving him a disgusted look. “And the class is landing in four minutes, so I really do not see the point in arguing any longer.”

“But they'll have to get through customs and grab their luggage, so it's not like they'll be here all that soon,” Dick argued, bouncing on his toes slightly in agitation. 

But Dick ended up being surprised at how quickly a bunch of fifteen-year-olds came trooping out of the arrivals gate. They were led by a familiar looking girl, her dark hair shining in the fluorescent lights of the airport as she glanced quickly around the area. 

He knew the moment she spotted their sign, which read ‘Bienvenue, les etudiants de Francois DuPont!’ in bright, glittery blue, because she immediately switched direction to lead the group directly to them.

“Hello!” She said brightly in English, coming to a stop directly in front of them. “Thank you for coming to collect us, my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I am the student representative for our class.”

“A pleasure to meet you all, my name is Dick and this is my brother Damian,” he replied, making sure to speak more slowly than usual for anyone who wasn't as fluent in speaking English. He turned to gesture to Damian only to find him staring at the petite French girl. He turned back to find her looking back at Damian with a thoughtful expression (and a blush) on her face.

“Mon dieu, toujours les yeux verts,” a dark skinned boy said under his breath to a girl wearing glasses, who stifled a laugh and elbowed him. At the implication of green eyes, it only took Dick a moment to place the memory of a young girl with dark hair and blue eyes. He was honestly annoyed at himself for not recognising her sooner given how closed off Damian had been those four years ago when Dick had met her the first time.

Marinette, adorably, had flushed even more as she turned back to hiss, “Nino, arrête-ça! I'm sorry about my friend, it has been a long flight and he left his manners in Paris.”

“Oh, that's okay! But you're right, if everyone has their luggage we should really go and get you settled at your hotel.”

A cheer went up as Marinette translated for anyone who looked confused and they all began moving towards the exit. Dick glanced over to check on Damian, only to find him approaching Marinette. She smiled up at him, but Dick was too far away to hear what they said to each other.

_ _ _

Marinette hated long flights, but she was beyond excited to win the Wayne Enterprises Class Award, granting her and her class the opportunity to visit the business and an affiliated school. So she had made sure she knew as much as she could about the program, the flight and the itinerary for the two weeks they would be staying in Gotham. 

But that very same excitement kept her from sleeping during the flight so, even though it had been planned so that they could land to spend half a day settling in and the rest exploring some of the safer areas of Gotham, the only thing Marinette wanted to do was sleep.

“Maribug, did you get any sleep on the plane,” Adrien said with a huff of laughter as they stepped to the end of a long queue for customs. 

“Sleep is for the weak and uncaffeinated,” she quipped immediately, wincing when he gave her a playful shove. “Watch it, furry, I'm not above crying to the chaperones to get you in trouble.”

Thankfully they were interrupted by a member of staff who opened a new lane for customs and gestured for them to come through first. Marinette gave a silent thanks to Tikki for that small piece of luck and then a second one when all of their luggage was out and accounted for in a timely fashion.

The group were chattering excitedly as they stepped out into the arrivals area but Marinette tuned them out as she scanned for their chaperones. She practically melted in relief when she saw two dark haired men waiting for them with a cute sign to welcome them.

As the class approached the pair, she felt a tingle in her gut and felt a memory tickling at the edges of her tired brain. She shoved both of them away as she greeted the men, first turning to the energetic looking one before locking eyes with a man she couldn't imagine being much older than them with vivid green eyes.

She completely zoned out and missed what the man was saying until she heard Nino joking about green eyes. She felt a blush take over her entire face and was mortified as she told him off before apologising and hinting that they should all head to the hotel.

Thankfully the man agreed and Marinette let herself fall to the back of the group to hide her embarrassment. But the green eyed boy came directly to her and she felt her face heating up again.

“Hello again,” he said quietly. She hardly noticed the amused looks being sent her way by Alya, Nino and Adrien. The only thing she could really focus on was how closely he stood and just how green his eyes were.

“Hi,” she squeaked, fidgeting with the strap to her backpack. “Um, it's nice to meet you, I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I- already told you that.”

“It is a pleasure to see you again, my name is Damian.”

“Again?” She said, feeling like a blue screen was playing in place of the crucial memory of meeting this absolutely stunningly attractive boy before. But her tired brain just fizzled out until she gave up and looked down shamefacedly. “I'm sorry, I don't remember when…”

“That is understandable, it was several years ago now,” he said smoothly, though he was smiling slightly sadly. She wanted to apologise more, but he merely shrugged and took hold of her suitcase. “Perhaps we can talk about it at a later time, when you have not just traveled on a plane for a third of a day?”

“I would like that,” she managed to say after only a beat or two’s silence. And when he smiled at her again, she wondered if he could hear her heart beating out of her chest.