#in my defense i was left sick and unsupervised | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit · 2 years ago

Note

how do all the lackadaisy characters react to getting sick/how do the handle the situation. Thanks!! :3c

Lumping these two asks together as they are the same request. Ask and ye shall receive! (A collaborative effort between multiple of our authors as it does involve the whole cast.)

ROCKY

Sick? What do you mean sick. In his over twenty-two years of living thus far he's never been sick once. He has the immune system of a titan, what are you talking about.

Questions he whilst leaning heavily on the bar counter for support lest he is knocked to the ground in a feverish pile by this sudden earthquake that apparently no one else is noticing like seriously you guys shouldn't we evacuate the place?!

In his defense, he's right about one thing: illness seems to avoid him as prevalently and miraculously as death itself. He could get stuck in the rain, take cold mud baths, sleep outside in winter snow, hug someone with Spanish flu, taste the pavement of a rat-infested alley and drink raw sewage and still come out of it all fit as a fiddle.

(Whether he carries anything is a different question, though with the various microorganisms inside him he seems to live in an overwhelmingly peaceful coexistence.)

But every rule has exceptions. And since he frequently does end up in all those situations, when once a millennium he comes down with something it's hard to tell the cause.

How he handles it can be summed up in a short answer of: he doesn't. He refuses to acknowledge it until he's physically incapacitated. If asked about it he keeps insisting that he's fine, a-okay, dandy as can be, never has existed a more invigorated healthy young man on Earth. At best he may invent a perfectly unconvincing excuse, like allergies acting up. (Inside underground caves. In winter. When he's never been allergic to anything in his entire life.)

Aside from perhaps unsuccessfully forbidding him from causing more grievous disturbances than usual, people usually opt to just leave him to it, because once he's set his mind on being "fine" logical reasoning and sound advice are only breath wasted. Ever well-intentioned, Mitzi still tells him to get some rest every now and then, yet keeps stumbling into the boy as he's fumbling through whatever that unresting intent has currently possessed him to be doing.

This wouldn't be such an issue with, say, a cold, because regardless of his masochistic eagerness for activity it inevitably does pass, but if it's something that necessitates any amount of bedrest... well, good luck.

For one he hasn't really a place to rest. I mean... there's the car. No one but Ivy at the Lackadaisy seems to know he technically lives in there, and he's not too enthusiastic to disclose it himself; besides anywhere else actually suitable, like in Mitzi's apartment, he'd just feel like a capital nuisance.

But let's suppose a scenario with the ideal location and someone who cares enough to stick by and ensure he actually does stay put. Shouldering such a responsibility, they must be prepared for a minimum of two things.

For one: he's going to be even more unbearably talkative than usual. Because what else is there left for a restless spirit if the flesh is restrained? Nothing but to complain and lament and versify and prattle on incessantly about whatever comes careening hither along a changeful stream of consciousness. Albeit unwittingly, driving others insane with his aimless rambling is how he keeps himself... well, something.

It's like if his mind had to stop running at maximum speed for just a few minutes it would promptly crash for good. Which, for all we know, may really be the case.

(This is just my two cents, but: I think giving him drawing implements and a coloring book or just plain paper might keep him very nicely occupied, as well as relatively quiet. Be sure to provide plenty of paper though, if you don’t want him to start drawing on other things not meant to be drawn on when the supply runs out like an unsupervised kid... unless you welcome the idea of your walls and furniture being covered in doodles.)

The other, possibly more arduous challenge is keeping him inside the room in the first place. Not understanding nor agreeing with his special treatment largely experienced as imprisonment on his end, he seizes each arising opportunity to attempt to weasel away somehow.

And he's a trained escape artist.

Watch him closely but look away for even a second, and you'll find no trace of him left in the room when you look back. Lock him in there, he'll pick the lock in a pinch - or attempt the window, which depending on the floor number may carry various levels of risk. Tie him down (because you're getting desperate by now) and you're likely to stumble into him minutes later by the front door, having already wriggled his way out. Doesn’t matter which knot was used, he knows most of them by heart. (And even if he didn’t happen to, he’s resourceful enough.)

Like I’ve said before, he perseveres in resisting his confinement for as long as he's capable of moving his limbs around and some vague semblance of coherent thought. Even with his brains cooking with delirium one may have to rescue him as he's crawling along on the floor dragging with him the tangle of blankets he was last left swaddled in, not entirely clear on what direction he's headed but by all means dedicated.

He's not above manipulation either, in order to divert his warden’s attention or make them relinquish his firm supervision rooted in concern for his well-being. Because it's not like he's concerned about it; so why should anyone else be? In addition he's unshakably certain that his role in the Lackadaisy's rumrunning force as well as there in general is absolutely vital and requires that he always be available for employment regardless of if he’s even in a proper state for it. (Just look at the latest comic arc, for crying out loud.)

But psst. Here's a little personal tip, for (Y/N) specifically. If reasonable advice hits deaf ears, and cuffing him to a bedpost yields little results other than another mildly baffling escape attraction, there remains one other thing to try with better chances of success... a more hands-on approach, if you catch my drift.

(Cuddling. I'm talking about cuddling. If you've got a good grip on this string bean of a man he is certainly not going anywhere so long as you're vigilant. Doing so, of course, means risking your own health, which he won't fail to coyly point out either; but he'll otherwise put up minimal resistance and ultimately cave in because God knows he’s touch deprived and doesn't get held enough otherwise. Well, by not enough I mean not at all, ever. But that's exactly why it's a good thing you're here, isn't it?)

Overall, as amusing of a story collection to recount as his commonly absurd ailing escapades might provide later down the line, the fact that they very rarely happen is no doubt for the best. He engages in enough troublesome shenanigans as is.

FRECKLE

Surprisingly pragmatic about it. Yep. He's getting symptoms. Looks like he contracted something.

Best be careful about it... mostly because Nina wouldn't allow him running himself ragged anyhow.

Along with other moral virtues he's had honesty drilled into him from kittenhood. And although it's not always an option in... other matters... he's upfront about how he's feeling physically if not much else, and eventually does come to terms with it. (Once he’s confirmed with certainty that it’s not just the general nauseated feeling he gets whenever he thinks too deeply about his “work” nowadays.)

He doesn't want to infect other people, or incur the stern concern of his mother, so at the very least he stays around the house, doing small, mostly undemanding chores. He's aware it's not expected of him nor recommended, but he has a bit of restlessness to him too.

Mostly because, were it bad enough to confine him to bed in a blanketed bundle of suffering incarnate, all he'd be able to think about is that God's wrath finally caught up with him for being a horrible person and this was part of his rightful punishment. Even worse if he got a nasty fever; it's like he's already burning in Hell.

Distractions may be scarce, but if he's been told off from chores for sneezing on the washing-up or exhausting himself with much too overzealous hammering, he opts to read instead. Over the years he's amassed quite the collection of books, renowned classics and youth literature, and most of them still give off the fluttering remnants of a good kind of nostalgia when flipping through the pages.

And besides, immersing himself in someone else's story is far more pleasant than fretting over his own current predicaments.

Some company, from a safe distance of course, will do him wonders as well. Nina is not the most conversational woman around, and aside from checking on him regularly and ensuring his wellbeing they don't make much meaningful contact.

Rocky likely pops in from time to time however, forever enthused to just run his mouth for as long as allowed, and although he may get a bit too bombastic for Calvin's comparative lack of vitality sometimes he appreciates the distraction more than he's able to express it. And, believe it or not, it's not entirely one-sided either. Rocky has developed a keen sense for his quiet cousin's intent to contribute and will more than gladly listen to what he has to say.

He’ll also forward Ivy’s wishes for Calvin to get well soon as she’s just dying to be able to meet with him at the speakeasy again. (Definitely also attaches a teasing remark or two to the message.) Then he’s eventually ushered out by Nina and as soon as his hasty goodbyes are swallowed by the outdoors Calvin finds himself missing the noise already.

The paralyzed stillness of being sick gets to him a lot more than it shows… seeing as it leaves him a little too alone with his own mind. So he sinks into the comfort of old books until he’s incapacitated by a headache and sore eyes, and diligently rakes those seven leaves that had gathered across the back lawn since he last attended to them two hours before, and lingers outside in the garden until warmer hues overtake a sun-painted sky and the evening chill starts to bite, taking in all things green and alive and in motion to remind himself that he’s not a walking corpse. Not yet, anyway.

Due to his mom’s supervision as well as his own eagerness to follow instructions in order to escape his personal limbo as soon as possible, he does tend to recover fairly fast; and he’s a pretty hardy young lad, thank goodness, so it’s all quite uncommon of an ordeal. In short it’s back to the ol’ grindstone in a jiffy; you know, the kind of grindstone that pulverizes mortal lives and churns out dripping blood.

But hey, best not stop and mull over it too long.

IVY

Oh, it's a nightmare for her.

You mean she can't go out in the evenings anymore? Can't go shopping with friends? Can't procure booze with her criminal coworkers? Can't attend dates with her cute new boyfriend? (Well, those last two are one and the same, really.)

These are all vital activities for a young woman like her to pursue! What else is she supposed to do? Rot in her room and steer clear of all fun whilst everyone else keeps going on with their lives?!

Some flimsy cold is nowhere near enough to keep her away from the beloved Lackadaisy. She can still man the café counter with a little sniffle (taking care to sneeze on no one's food) or look absolutely gorgeous on the dancefloor decked in glimmering pearls and feathers with a slightly paler constitution. But if it's bad enough that she simply must stay put...

During classes the still life of an empty dormitory fills with upbeat contemporary tunes from her bedstand radio as she lies upon crumpled bedsheets, clad in her prettiest pajamas, surrounded by an almost ritualistic circle of tissues and magazines whilst flipping through one of the latter with her legs girlishly dangling in the air. This is likely the scene any visitors are greeted by as well.

She looks like she's coping rather well... until verbal contact ensues and she begins her long string of complaints about how she's feeling utterly miserable. Runny nose, sore throat, grating cough, an unshakable sense of fatigue and she can't even go anywhere! Her classmates are off studying or having fun themselves (as well as deliberately avoiding contact with her for obvious reasons), and she's got nothing to look at but patterned wallpaper and pictures of pretty clothes she currently can't even visit the boutiques for.

But once the grievances are shared she promptly guides the spotlight in their direction, upon which they are to share every last bit of information and news about all most recent ongoings in the world of the healthy. It is a requirement (she will not let them go until they oblige), but also an opportunity; they're welcome to spill the beans on how their week has been and any noteworthy things that happened to them and also to just chat with her about whatever else comes up in the process.

Another way she keeps herself involved with the outside world is through the telephone. The local operator can already tell if she's under the weather by the prevalence of hearing her slightly weathered, juvenile voice squeak for connection to mostly one line throughout the day.

Her calls may also be scheduled to a certain hour so that everyone can come up to Mitzi's office and say hi. That "everyone" overwhelmingly ends up being Rocky, who lingers around there a bit more insistently than usual nearing that time frame and never fails to make his presence known by shouting his own greetings and cheerful encouragements of perseverance into the receiver.

She always asks him about Viktor and Calvin since the former disappointingly refuses to engage with her calls, and the latter doesn't visit because boys aren't allowed in the dormitory... and because he's afraid of catching her sickness. (What a chicken.)

You’d better believe they both get a scolding once she’s recovered for not contacting her at all… though you can’t really stay mad at sheepishly apologetic, babyfaced Freckle McMurray, now can you

Supposing the presence of company who’s emotionally close enough, she may also get clingy in the physical sense. Yes, she knows it’s not very courteous to rub your germs all over someone, but oh, her head is just killing her and she’s exhausted and achy and utterly sick of being sick, hence she desperately needs to rest her chin on someone’s shoulder and latch onto their soft warmth. Really, they brought this upon themselves by daring to enter the sniffly lion cub’s den. Now they’re likely not allowed to move for… let’s say the next two hours. Alternatively, until she has to go to the bathroom or ask them to get her something to drink.

Yes, she’s a bit of a princess; and especially when she’s miserable she may occasionally indulge in showering a willing servant with her various requests. Fetch her this, throw away that, bring hot chocolate and snacks, take out the trash, give her attention. But how could you say no to those big, innocent eyes?

If it’s a schoolmate she will absolutely persuade them to skip their classes for the day and spend time with her instead, offering cuddles and gossip. Forgetting, or ignoring rather, that not everyone can afford to be so lax about their education. Though surely, full-time service as a personal maid slash stuffed animal is making a much better use of their time. She promises to do the same when they inevitably catch the illness themselves, if that’s any consolation.

Nightly adventures and consequent loss of sleep aside, she takes decent care of herself overall, so the understimulating agony of quarantined solitude luckily isn’t something she suffers more of than the average person… albeit that little she’s an expert at suffering luxuriously.

VIKTOR

No, he's not sick, you're just lying. The great, the indomitable, the fierce Viktor Vasco never gets sick.

Denial is definitely a big part of it. He will not admit to getting sick until he's too weak to stand, and even then he'll fight anyone who tries to get him to rest.

The boredom is somehow scarier than actual health concerns. Staying at home and being too ill to do anything except think means he'll think. And thinking leads to a whole load of other things that he doesn't want to get into.

Essentially, getting sick is a liability to everything, from his job to his sense of self.

However, good luck on trying to make him better. He will also stubbornly refuse any help that comes his way, will slam his door in the doctor's face and threaten to tear apart anyone who so much as suggests getting him medicine.

His colleagues from Lackadaisy have taken to asking Mrs Bapka, his neighbour, to administer anything they want to give him themselves (he will draw a line at punching an old woman and fellow Slovakian immigrant), or Ivy (no one can successfully dispose of Ivy and her headstrong attitude. No one.)

The last person he had actually listened to when he was sick was a certain Mordecai Heller. Needless to say, that's not the case anymore.

Maybe that's what really makes him so grumpy and reluctant.

ZIB

His immune system is either rock hard or absolute dogshit, there is no in-between. He can go through a crowd of cats with nasty 'bouts of the flu without catching it, but gets bedridden by something as small as a head cold.

Said wonky immune system may be because he tends to drink stuff cut with the most ridiculous ingredients (radiator fluid, coffin varnish, paint, water, mud, you name it he's probably tasted it)

When he gets laid up, he gets laid up hard (innuendo not intended). He has to drag himself out of bed during the worst parts of it and may not even bother, electing to curl up and shiver/cry from the pain/die where he's comfortable. His band members have to literally drag him out of there on those days and force food down his throat so he doesn't wither away

Goddammit you lanky noodle bitch look after your sick ass don't make everyone do it for you

MORDECAI

He hates falling ill with a passion. It's one of many reasons he drinks tea so often: if he does get sick, it won't hit him so hard.

He tends to try and shrug off small stuff (runny nose, mild to moderate headache, aches and pains) to go to work anyway; but he's no fool. If he really feels icky he'll stay at home and look after himself. As much as he hates to do it, he's only got one body and somebody has to look after it.

The Savoys bash/tease him relentlessly whenever he comes in sick. If the mild headache becomes something worth staying at home for, they'll go as far as to try and visit him (or get him to come to them). Is it guilt about ragging him about it, them missing him or just boredom? Hard to tell with those two.

Serafine once teased about playing as his "mama" and looking after him until he's better. Mordecai, in his sickness-muddled mind, flew off the handle at her...Though all the Savoys saw was him almost break a glass in his paws before telling them flatly to get out.

Neither one realized Serafine had hit a nerve until he refused to let them in for a few days after. Whether it was something about his past or Serafine betraying his trust to get him into her group, they let it go and pretended nothing happened once he was back in action (though there was a noticeably thicker wall between him and them)

SERAFINE/NICODEME

Meet the "clingy" duo.

They don't get sick often and have impressive immune systems, what with their past roaming the swamps and other dangerous conditions, but when they do? Oh boy...

They'll either cling to each other in private, or play it up and annoy a hapless colleague.

And by "hapless colleague", I mean Mordecai—because of course it is.

Sickness is less of an actual, preventive ailment, but rather an excuse to show off some dramatic acting skills.

"Oh, cher, I simply cannot move until you bring me some nice warm tea and chocolate!"

"If I die, tell the world I was warm and safe, because of our dear ami, Heller..."

"For crying out loud, you've both got nothing but a cold."

They'll still play it up.

Just because your nose is stuffy doesn't mean the rest of you has to be.

The show must go on, mon cher.

WICK

He gets sick really, really easily. He stays up late at night often, so he doesn't get much rest and his immunity suffers for it.

(Licking rock walls probably doesn't help with that. Muffinhead (affectionate))

He still does work and goes out when he's sick, which results in papers with shitty writing and his friends urging him to go and rest up, "we can go with you another day".

When he's not thinking straight he'll whine to Lacie about how no one wants to see him when he's sick; ignoring the fact that she's either making him food, putting a cold cloth on his head or literally came by just to say hi to him

He's a bit dim sometimes, but he's a loveable dim.

The easiest way to see how sick he is is to mention putting the work on pause or crack a joke at his expense. If he rapidly objects to not working or good-naturedly shrugs off the joke, it's a small thing, nothing to worry about. If all he has to say in response to not working is "I can't" and he tries to defend himself from the joke (or even worse, agrees with it), he's feeling god-awful.

Lacie tends to hide the alcohol away until he's feeling better. During the week or so he's really feeling foggy this actually works, since in his addled state he can't properly look for them.

MITZI (BONUS since she's been getting a fair bit of attention)

Mitzi doesn't get sick. She becomes inconvenienced.

She's also a real bitch when she's sick. It's less of a slipping mask and more of a "I can't be nice when my brain feels too big for my skull"

She'll still grin and bear it for Rocky. He's positively devoted to her, after all; the least she can do is swallow her nasty remarks and come up with something softer for him.

Some cats swear that she never falls ill or has anything happen to her...Usually because once it does happen she locks herself in her office and won't open the door if you're not Horatio or Viktor.

If another cat somehow gets through her door, can put up with her attitude swings and goes out of their way to help her through her illness, she may very well open up a little and talk to them easier. Something as small as a cup of tea during a ravenous headache will convince the then-bitchy queen that you're not all bad-and later that since you put up with her ravenous insults and still helped her, maybe you're worth swallowing her pride for and confiding in.

#{ahah!! hello!! Rory here!! so you may notice the slightly uneven distribution of (Y/N) here}#{even in my own parts I left Calvin out of it. the poor boy}#{and Rocky's easily goes over 1k because I got a bit excited. as you may guess he's my favorite}#{but reminder that (granted that requests are open at the time) we're more than happy to provide further servings of any of our concepts}#{more specialized or in-depth or what-have-you}#{although this IS a brew of headcanons. which are usually brief. I just got a tad eager with my first contribution here I suppose}#{hello to our lovely readers by the way!! :3}#{💌 mod rory 💌}#🦉mod iphiko #🖋 mod ille #Headcanon Home Brew #Rocky Rickaby #Calvin “Freckle” McMurray #Ivy Pepper #Viktor Vasko #Dorian “Zib” Zibowski #Mordecai Heller #Serafine Savoy #Nicodeme Savoy #Sedgewick “Wick” Sable #Mitzi May #headcanon #lackadaisy

173 notes · View notes

ah-death · 1 year ago

Text

I've decided to make an OC for fallout 3. Her name is Edalynn.

Eda and Butch are menaces to society pt 1

Gob: Is that everything Eda?

Edalynn: Yep! Oh wait, do you want this?

*Eda takes out the mini nuke and smacks it on the table*

Gob, freaking the hell out: WHERE'D YA GET THAT!?

Edalynn:... Around?

Edalynn: I know you're deflecting by making jokes about how hot you are.

Butch: It's not a joke, I'm a legit snack!

Gob: I’m glad Charon feels safe enough to sleep around us. He looks peaceful.

Eda: *uncapping a black marker* And vulnerable.

Eda: Lol heads up if you try to make a candle with food coloring, the food coloring will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food coloring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food coloring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter and Gob will accidentally cut his poor little hands on your stupidity. Please take my word on this.

Nova: What did you do?

Edalynn: A MISTAKE

Edalynn: *Stubs her toe* FUCK!

Gob: Mind your language!

Edalynn: What else am I supposed to say, “Woe is I”???

Gob:

Butch: You really have to accept that swear words are necessary sometimes Gob.

Edalynn: It's a little muggy out today.

Gob: Edalynn, if I go outside and all our mugs are on the lawn, I'm leavin' you.

Edalynn, sweating: *Sips Nuka-Quantum from a bowl*

Gob, tying up their riding brahmin: Can you get us a table love?

Edalynn: Sure thing!

*Seconds Later, Running Out of Rivet City with a table*

Edalynn: UNTIE...THE BRAHMIN!

*Edalynn and Butch are doing something absurdly dangerous*

Edalynn: I think Houdini did something like this once! Why, if I recall correctly, he was out of the hospital in no time!

Butch, enthusiastically: Well that's encouraging!

Butch: You're right.

Edalynn: That's... That's an unusual phrase for you. Did you just learn it?

Gob: Where are you going?

Edalynn: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there.

Butch: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

Nova: Wasn't Eda with you?

Edalynn: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

Edalynn: Are you sure this is the right direction?

Butch: Certainly, I'm as sure as I am honest!

Charon: In that case, we're definitely lost.

Edalynn: Bye Gob! Bye Charon! Bye Fawkes! Bye Jericho! Bye Gob!

Butch: You said ‘bye Gob’ twice.

Edalynn: I like Gob.

Butch: When Emma gets older, I'll teach her about sports and stuff and you guys are in charge of her emotional crap. We agreed that's how we'd raise our kids.

Gob: Our kids? Butch, I'm married to Edalynn.

Butch: Sorry man, package deal.

Gob, looking to Eda:

Eda, shrugging: Can't get rid of him. I've tried.

Butch: Is Charon his real name?

Edalynn: He’s older than us.

Butch: That’s not what I asked.

Edalynn: That’s the information I have.

Butch: You're late. We said meet at sunset

Edalynn: I can still see the sun, you fucking midget

Nova: *Sneezes*

Edalynn: Oh, bless you.

Gob: *Sneezes*

Edalynn: Oh no Gob are you sick?! Here let me get you a blanket. Do you want some brahmin noodle soup?

Butch: *Sneezes*

Edalynn:

Oh my God, shut the fuck up.

Butch: Eda makes fun of me for my height.

Gob: Eda makes fun of everyone for their height.

Nova: you can't even be mad. She's 7ft tall.

Some Raider, trying to intimidate Charon: I have your little vault dweller!

Charon: Which one, the greaser or the one I actually care about?

Raider:…the tall one that doesn’t have any self preservation instincts???

Charon: Yeah, you don’t have her, she has you. Good luck with that.

Charon: um I have a joke to cheer you up.

Butch: You, a joke?

Charon, hesitant: Don’t be sad, because sad backwards is das, and das not good.

Butch:

Charon: Butch?

Butch, screaming: CHARON JUST TOLD A JOKE!

Edalynn, somewhere millions of miles away: OH MY FUCKING GOD

*Butch killing raiders*

Edalynn: I can't believe that's the same guy who cried when he got jelly on his fancy pants

Amata: *nodding, impressed*

Edalynn, talking about Butch to Gob and Nova: He listens to The Adventures of Herbert Dashwood on the radio even though he owns all of the holotapes.

Edalynn: Pointing this out confuses and upsets him.

Edalynn: Butch, we tried things your way.

Butch: No we didn't.

Edalynn: I did. In my head. It didn't work.

Edalynn: Write "nothing is set in stone" on my grave as both a witty pun and a subtle warning that I will be back

Butch: Once again, Butch and Edalynn save the day.

Charon: You didn’t do anything, it was all Eda.

Butch: We’re a package deal. Everyone knows that.

#fallout 3 incorrect quotes #fallout gob #fallout 3 #fallout 3 butch #fallout 3 charon #fallout lone wanderer #oc #fallout Nova

9 notes · View notes

little-mouse-gardens · 1 year ago

Text

Incorrect quotes with my rottmnt ocs

Oc’s : Sunny mora, Marcy mora, Skye mora, Angie mora

Skye : If this plan goes down the drain, where should we regroup?

Angie: The afterlife, I guess.

Raphael : Have I ever told you that I love you with my whole heart?

Sunny : For the love of all that is holy, I am not taking you to Pizza Hut. It’s 2am!

Raphael : Mean.

Marcy : .. .----. -- / … --- .-. .-. -.-- (translation: I'M SORRY)

Skye : What's that?

Marcy : Remorse code.

Skye : I'm even angrier now.

Leonardo : You need a another hobby.

Donatello : I have tons of hobbies!

Leonardo : Fawning over Marcy isn’t a hobby.

Angie: We have to plan, we have to figure something out.

Skye : Angie, when have any of our plans ever actually worked? We plan, we get there, all hell breaks loose.

Sunny : raph, You know, it’s fine to admit you were wrong.

Raphael : *Sipping their drink after accidentally adding salt* I just like the way it tastes.

*angie sneezes*

Michelangelo : Angie, are you sick? Here, let me wrap you in a blanket and hand-feed you some warm soup while holding your hand and giving you hugs!

*baron draxum sneezes*

Michelangelo : Oh my god. Shut the hell up.

Leonardo : I'm very scary.

Skye : You're about as scary as a wet kitten.

Leonardo : Wet kittens are cute, at least I've got that going for me.

Skye : And small.

Leonardo :

Leonardo : ...Yeah, yeah. I guess.

Leonardo : In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

Sunny : Wasn’t Skye with you?

Skye : In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

Skye : You want some leftovers?

Leonardo : What are those?

Skye : You've never had leftovers before?

Leonardo : No, ‘cause I’m not a quitter.

Skye : Vegetable oil is made from vegetables, coconut oil is made from coconuts, so BABY OIL-

Angie: CAN'T WE JUST HAVE A NICE FAMILY DINNER FOR ONCE?!

Sunny : So Raphael , how did your first time cooking dinner go?

Raphael : Pretty good if I do say so myself.

Sunny : Oo! Okay, what are we having?

Raphael : Alright, so for appetizers, we have a potato.

Sunny : A whole potato?

Raphael : Yes. And then for the main course, we have grilled cheese sandwiches!

Sunny : These just look like big slabs of black.

Raphael : Because that's what they are!

Raphael : And then for desert, we have chocolate.

Sunny : These are just chocolate chips?

Raphael : They sure are!

Raphael : And then for drinks, we have toast!

Raphael : *lifts up a glass of blended toast* Bon appetite!

#incorrect quotes #rottmnt ocs #oc : sunny #oc : skye #oc : marcy #oc : angie #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #rottmnt leo #rottmnt mikey #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

6 notes · View notes

ocdtgifsetarchive · 1 year ago

Text

a potluck of sentences

because everything i see is always too short for my liking. mix of neutral, friendship, enemyship, and romance. absence of nsfw. quotes from pinterest, tumblr, etc.

"please just let me forget."

"ashes, we all fall down."

"are you crazy?"

"do i know you?"

"i hate you."

"no, i’m not going to."

"what are we doing here?"

"it's time to choose."

"you can’t change my mind."

"i already made up my mind."

"you frustrate me incredibly."

"i'm not gonna let you do that."

"i need you."

"i don't even want to look at you right now."

"together or not at all."

"don't do this to me!"

"for you, i would _____"

"do you love me?"

"think about what you're doing."

"why aren't you listening to me?"

"just leave me alone."

"i want to sleep forever..."

"if you don't terrify people a little bit then where's the fun in life?"

"what are you afraid of?"

"is that my shirt?"

"explain yourself."

"if you stay quiet, no one will know."

"come on, dance with me."

"we need to talk."

"if i disappeared, would you look for me?"

"are you threatening me?"

"i already regret this."

"don't you dare come near me!"

"i missed you."

"it's so beautiful."

"i want so badly to protect you from the world, because i know all too well how bad it can be."

"this seems familiar."

"i will be brutal."

"i love you, even if i wish i didn't."

"do you think i care about you so little than a simple betrayal would matter at all?"

"be mine"

"i guess this is goodbye."

"you need to leave."

"where you go, i follow."

"do you remember this?"

"what if someone catches us?"

"you'll always have little old me."

"i almost had you, didn't i?"

"you see the best in people."

"power belongs to those who take it."

"a knife, are you flirting with me?"

"do you think i care about you so little?"

"i need a drink."

"this is really inappropriate."

"just what did we do last night?"

"broken people understand broken people."

"there's no going back."

"if you don't want a sarcastic answer, don't ask a stupid question."

"the view is spectacular."

"what even was that noise?"

"enemies make the best lovers."

"i love you."

"i didn't think you'd care."

"you could have died!"

"don't let me die like this."

"are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"in my defense, i was left unsupervised."

"why can't you trust me?"

"come on, dance with me. the earth is spinning, we can't just stand on it."

"i am a great person."

"it was me."

"i think i broke it."

"you coward."

"you lied to me!"

"i'm not speaking to you anymore."

"put. the. weapon. down."

"give me another chance."

"have you ever done this before?"

"i broke my rules for you."

"kiss me, you idiot."

"make me."

"no, you can't die on me now!"

"what were you thinking?"

"don't you dare."

"well, that was unexpected..."

"you mean everything to me."

"i'm going to ignore you now."

"don't make me beg."

"how is that not hilarious?"

"we won't forget about each other, right?"

"truth hurts, don't it?"

"you could have killed someone!"

"why should i apologize for the monster i've become? no one ever apologized for making me this way."

"i have to go."

"how drunk are you right now?"

"i owe you."

"i'll be there in five minutes."

"what are you?"

"i think i'm forgetting something."

"i want to try this thing i read in a book."

"please, just calm down."

"i can't do this anymore."

"i'm bad for you."

"i'm going to be sick."

"history is written by the victors."

"what do you think you're doing?"

"you owe me."

"i'm the monster you created."

"that sounds painful."

"do you trust me?"

"are you even listening to me?"

"are you even listening to yourself?"

"i know your secret."

"i trusted you."

"i'll always have your back."

"what have i done this time?"

"give it back."

"i trust you."

"please stop losing your temper."

"what do you need?"

"you can cry if you need to."

"don't go, please."

"you have to run."

"i just want to be yours."

"i think i'm falling in love with you."

"i need a hug."

"what happened to you?"

"i was already calm, asshole."

"i'm hoping you'll understand me."

"are you sure nobody will find out?"

"don't look at me like that."

"i never loved you."

2 notes · View notes

antlerwreath · 3 years ago

Text

me realizing i have the power and skills to edit keyleth screencaps to make her look like my fc for her:

#BABY. her icons are about to be sick #❛ in my defense i was left unsupervised 「❀」 ooc.

1 note · View note

forestcat000 · 2 years ago

Text

More incorrect quotes

Staring Zane, Janus and Ivan (they are all dating)

Zane: What doesn't kill me should run, because now I'm fucking pissed.

Zane: I was born for politics. I have great hair and I love lying.

Zane: I’m sick and tired of being called 'mortal' like, you don’t know that. Neither do I. I have never died even ONCE. Nothing has been proven yet. Stop making assumptions. It’s rude.

Zane: 'Person of interest' is almost too flattering. Zane: Like, if the police were to pound on my door and go, 'A man has been murdered in your building and you are a person of interest,' I'd be like, 'Moi? Oh, do go on.'

Janus: Schrödinger’s cat is overrated. If you wanna see something that’s both dead and alive you can talk to me any time of the day.

Janus: People are always asking me if I'm a morning person or a night person. Janus: And I'm just like, 'Buddy! I'm barely even a PERSON!' (true)

Janus: You think I really give a fuck? I can’t even read.

Janus: When someone points at your black clothes and asks whose funeral it is, having a look around the room and saying 'Haven’t decided yet' is typically a good response.

Ivan: You wanna see how hardcore I am? Ivan: *punches wall* Ivan: Ivan: Take me to the hospital. (Ivan is pathetic and i love him for it)

Ivan: I’ve come to a point in my life where I need a stronger word than fuck

Ivan: You can de-escalate any situation by simply saying, 'Are we about to kiss?' Ivan: Doesn't work for getting out of speeding tickets, by the way.

Ivan, motioning to a Halloween display: All these ghosts! All these ghosts! I still can’t find a boo.

Ivan: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me. Zane: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you? Ivan: Yes! Janus: I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you.

Ivan: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death? Zane: How am I supposed to know? Janus: You say, as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult. Zane: *sighs* Zane: You wouldn't be trapped.

Ivan: So, what, now I’m just supposed to do anything that Zane does? I mean, what if they jumped off a cliff? Janus: If Zane were to jump off a cliff, they would’ve done their due diligence regarding the height of the cliff, the depth of the water, and the angle of entry, so yes. If you see Zane jump off a cliff, by all means, jump off a cliff. Ivan: You jump off a cliff! Janus: Gladly. Provided Zane did first.

Ivan: HELP! I TOLD JANUS I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK! Zane, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: And you thought I could help?

Ivan: Zane and I don’t use pet names. Janus: I see. Hey, what do bees make? Ivan: Honey? Zane: Yes, dear? Ivan: Janus: Don't ever lie to my face again.

Ivan: In my defense, I was left unsupervised. Zane: Wasn't Janus with you? Janus: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

Ivan, trying to ask Zane out: Would you like to stay for dinner? Janus: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER? (this is cannon)

Ivan: WHY. why did you give Janus a KNIFE?! Zane: I’m sorry. They said they felt unsafe. Ivan: Now I feel unsafe! Zane: I’m sorry. Zane: ... would you like a knife?

Ivan: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth? Zane: You’re a hazard to society Janus: And a coward. DO TWENTY.

Ivan: Man, I only ever see you awake, do you ever shut down or stop running? Zane: Oh, I’m always running Zane: The question is from what

Ivan: Top 30 reasons why Ivan is sorry... Number 5 will surprise you! Zane: Top 30 anime deaths. Number One: YOUR FUCKING ASS RIGHT NOW!!!

Ivan: I am not out of control! I'm a law abiding citizen! Zane: Really? Name one law Ivan: Don't kill people? Zane: That's on me. I set the bar too low.

Ivan: Welcome, fellow idiots Zane: Hello, Ivan Ivan: No, no, not you, you're not an idiot Zane: You underestimate me

Ivan, trying to cheer the group up: Things could be worse, you know! Zane: How? Ivan: How what? Zane: How could they be worse? Ivan: They couldn’t, I lied. Zane:

Ivan: So are we flirting right now? Zane: I AM LITERALLY STABBING YOU Ivan: That doesn’t answer my question

Ivan: Ok, maybe playing ‘whose family is most dysfunctional’ wasn’t the best idea we’ve had. Zane's been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can’t get them out...

Ivan: Where are you going? Zane: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there

Janus: Change is inedible. Zane: Don't you mean inevitable? Janus, spitting out coins: No, I did not.

Janus: petition to remove the 'd' from Wednesday Zane: Wednesay Janus: Not what I had in mind, but I'm flexible

Janus: Zane, stop! This isn't you, you've gone mad with power! Zane: Well of course I have. Zane: Have you ever tried going mad without power? Zane: It's boring.

Janus: Zane! My face is on fire! Zane: Janus! Are you ok?! Janus: Oh yes, I'm fine. I just said that to make sure you'd come in here quickly. Zane: But your face is on fire. Janus: Yes. It's much faster than shaving.

Janus: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much. Zane: Oh, you’ve been? Janus: Once. In Monopoly.

Janus: Bad things keep happening to me, like I have bad luck or something. Zane: Janus, you don't have bad luck. The reason bad things happen to you is because you're a dumbass.

Janus: It’s dark in here Zane: Don’t worry dude I got this Zane: *Stomps their feet* Zane: *Skechers light up*

Janus: Three words. Say them and I'm yours. Zane: Three words. Janus:

Janus: Hey Zane can I get a sip of your water? Zane: It's not water. Janus: Vodka, I like your style! Zane: It's vinegar. Janus: Wh-Wha- Zane: It's vinegar, COWARD.

Janus: What’s up guys? I’m back. Zane: What the- you can’t be here. You’re dead. I literally saw you die. Janus: Death is a social construct.

Janus: I'm 10 times funnier and sexier than you Ivan: 10 times 0 is still 0 though Janus: Jokes on you, I can't do math

Janus: I’m gonna need a human skull and I can't have you ask any questions why. Ivan: Only if you also don't ask why Ivan: *Pulls out 7 pristine human skulls* Take your pick. Janus: Ivan: Janus: This one is fine

Janus: Can you keep a secret? Ivan: Do you know anything about my life? Janus: No I do not. Good point. (SERIOUSLY WHAT IS IVANS BACKSTORY)

Janus: You love me, right, Ivan? Ivan: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.

Janus: Are you an ‘arr’ pirate, or a ‘yo ho ho’ pirate? Ivan: I’m a ‘I’m not paying $600 for photoshop’ pirate.

Janus: I’m going to take you out Ivan: great, it’s a date! Janus: I meant that as a threat. Ivan: See you at five!

Janus: Okay. I get it. You've had a really hard time lately, you're stressed out, seven people died- Ivan: Twelve, actually. Janus: Not the point. Look, they're dead now and really whose fault is that? Ivan: Yours! Janus: That's right: no one's.

the point of this post is that Zane attracts himbos

#aphmau zane #zane ro'meave #aphmau phoenix drop high #aphmau pdh #pheonix drop high #pdh #zuwellyn ro'meave #zane x janus #zane x janus x ivan #zanivus #janus x ivan #zane x ivan #aphmau ivan #janus the silver death #aphmau janus #zanus #jo9 #jury of nine

45 notes · View notes

messy-gemini1 · 3 years ago

Text

back on my rdr2 bullshit :)

Y/n: In my defense, I was left unsupervised. Arthur: Wasn't John with you? John: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised. ______ Dutch, excitedly: Heeyy!! Arthur: Hey, someone's excited. Y/n, deadpan: Yeah, and it's making me sick. ______ Y/n: Guess what number I’m thinking of. Hosea: 420? Y/n: No, that’s really immature of you. Someone else guess, and please take this seriously. Dutch: 69. Y/n: Yeah it was 69. ______

Y/n: But what about John? Arthur: Don't worry about them. Arthur: I once watched them fall down 5 flights of stairs, stand up, and keep eating their hotdog like nothing happened. ______

John: Arthur, I’m afraid. Arthur: Just stay close to Y/n. John: That's why I’m afraid. Y/n: *grinning* ______ Hosea: Dutch and I got married!! Y/n: Don't share your personal problems with everyone. ______

Dutch : Why would anyone want to harm Y/n? Hosea: Maybe because they met them? Y/n: hey- ya know what fair ______ Arthur: Dearly Beloved, we are here today to remember Y/n, taken from us in the prime of life; when they were crushed by a runaway semi, driven by the Incredible Hulk. Y/n: Aww, you knew my favorite cause of death. ______ John: So Dutch was just using me? Hosea : I’m sorry, John. Y/n, trying to contain their amusement: You must feel pretty stupid right now. John: Hosea : Ok, that’s a time-out. Y/n: No, I was just trying to- Hosea : Go sit over there! Y/n: *walks away in defeat* ______ Dutch : Hello Y/n, made anyone cry today? Y/n: Sadly, no. But it’s only 4:30. wanna be the first?

#rdr2 incorrect quotes #rdr2 john #red dead redemption #arthur morgan #john marston #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #red dead redemption hosea #modern!reader

209 notes · View notes

autisticundertale · 3 years ago

Text

Incorrect KFC quotes

Kris: Are you sure this is the right direction? Chara: Certainly, I'm as sure as I am honest! Frisk: In that case, we're definitely lost.

---------------------

Kris: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it. Frisk: Kris no. Chara: Mistlefoe. Frisk: Please stop encouraging them.

---------------------

Kris: What if I press the brake and gas at the same time? Chara: The car takes a screenshot. Frisk: For the last time, get the fuck out.

---------------------

Kris: Chara and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us Frisk: *Sighing* What did Chara do? Kris: They chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and... Chara: Who wants a steering wheel?

---------------------

Kris: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'? Frisk: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated- Chara: Smad.

---------------------

Kris: What do you think Chara will do for a distraction? Frisk: They’ll probably, like, make a noise or throw a rock. That’s what I would do. *Building explodes and several car alarms go off* Frisk: ... or they could do that.

---------------------

Kris: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Chara? Chara: … No. Frisk: I do! Kris: I know, Frisk. Frisk: I’m sad! Kris: I know, Frisk.

---------------------

Chara: In my defense, I was left unsupervised. Frisk: Wasn't Kris with you? Kris: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

---------------------

Kris, talking about Chara: Is this a friend of yours, Frisk ? Frisk : Kind of? Not really. They're in my life and there's nothing I can do about it.

---------------------

Kris: Are they stupid? Frisk : Yes, but they prefer to be called Chara.

---------------------

Chara: Onion rings are vegetable donuts. Frisk, used to Chara being dumb: Sure... Chara: Your stomach thinks all potatoes are mashed. Frisk: Okay? Chara: Lasagna is spaghetti flavored cake. Frisk: Chara: Lobsters are mermaid scorpio- Frisk: Jesus, that one is a little- Kris, interested: No, no, Chara, keep going.

---------------------

Chara: Don't worry, I've got a few knives up my sleeve. Frisk : I think you mean cards. Kris: They did not. Chara, pulling out knives: I did not.

---------------------

Frisk: Chara has no survival skills, their need to win has replaced them. Kris: That can't be true! Frisk: Watch this. Frisk: Hey Chara , race you to the bottom of the stairs! Chara : *Throws themself out a window*

---------------------

Kris : But what about Chara? Frisk: Don't worry about them. Frisk: I once watched them fall down 5 flights of stairs, stand up, and keep eating their hotdog like nothing happened.

---------------------

Chara: Hey, did you know as a kid I accidentally ate paper? Frisk : I feel like we've all done that at least once. Kris: I ate it too- Frisk : See? Kris:: -On purpose... Chara & Frisk : ...What?

---------------------

Frisk : Adulting is hard. Frisk : How do I quit? Kris: Time travel. Chara: Die.

---------------------

Frisk : Yo dumbass, get over here. Kris: Okay- Chara: *gleefully runs past* I’m coming! Kris, sadly: I thought... I was dumbass...

---------------------

Frisk: So, Chara is no longer allowed to take the trash out at night. Kris : Why? Frisk: Because I've caught them trying to train raccoons to fight five times in a row. Chara, arms crossed and pouting: You'll be thanking me when the third raccoon battalion saves your ass.

---------------------

Chara: Frisk ’s gonna kill me. Kris: No, they'll probably make me do it.

---------------------

Chara: Frisk gave me a get better soon card. Kris: That's sweet! Chara: I wasn't sick, they just think I can do better.

---------------------

Frisk : Kris got into a fight. Chara: That’s bad. Chara: Chara: Did they win?

99 notes · View notes

votederpycausemufins · 4 years ago

Text

i could be writing more fics... or i could just use an incorrect quote generator to write it for me!

Grian: We need to get through this locked door. Mumbo, give me your credit card. Mumbo: Here. Grian, pocketing it: Thanks. Grumbot, kick down the door.

Grumbot: In my defense, I was left unsupervised. Mumbo: Wasn't Grian with you? Grian: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

Grumbot: *Screams* Jrumbot: *Screams louder to establish dominance* Mumbo: Should we do something? Grian: No, I want to see who wins.

Mumbo: Grian, I'm sad. Grian: *Holds out arms for a hug* It’s going to be okay. Grumbot: Jrumbot, I'm sad. Jrumbot, nodding: mood.

Jrumbot, setting down a card: Ace of spades Grian, pulling out an Uno card: +4 Grumbot, pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you Mumbo, trembling: What are we playing

Mumbo: Please, I'm begging you go to a doctor. Grian: I'm sorry is this OUR stab wound? Stay out of it.

Jrumbot: I am not out of control! I'm a law abiding citizen! Grian: Really? Name one law Jrumbot: Don't kill people? Grian: That's on me. I set the bar too low.

Mumbo: This is such a bad idea. Grian: Then why are you coming along? Mumbo: One of us need to be able to talk the cops out of arresting us when this inevitably goes wrong.

Grumbot: Where are you going? Jrumbot: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there.

Mumbo: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated. Grian: Killed without hesitation. Mumbo: No.

Grian, Jrumbot and Grumbot are sitting on a bench Mumbo: Why do you guys look so sad? Grian: Sit down with us so we can tell you. *Mumbo sits down* Grumbot: The bench is freshly painted.

Grian: You lying, cheating, piece of sh*t! Mumbo: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD Grian: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING JRUMBOT WITH ME Grumbot, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

Jrumbot: Is stabbing someone immoral? Grian: Not if they consent to it. Grumbot: Depends who you’re stabbing. Mumbo: YES?!?

Grian: Jrumbot and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us Mumbo: *Sighing* What did Jrum do? Grian: They chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and... Jrumbot: Who wants a steering wheel?

Mumbo: Would you stab your best friend in the leg for 10 million gold? Grian: You stab me, and then when my leg gets better, we buy a big-ass house. Jrumbot: You can stab me too, then we'll have 20 million. Grian: Good thinking.

Mumbo: If you had to choose between Grian and all the money I have in my wallet, which would you choose? Jrumbot: That depends, how much money are we taking about? Grian: Jrumbot! Mumbo: 63 cents. Jrumbot: I'll take the money. Grian: JRUMBOT!!!

Mumbo, driving Grumbot and Jrumbot: So how was your day? Jrumbot: We almost got surprise adopted! Mumbo: What? Grumbot: We almost got kidnapped. Mumbo: Oh, okay. Mumbo: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

Jrumbot: Ok, maybe playing ‘whose family is most dysfunctional’ wasn’t the best idea we’ve had. Grian's been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can’t get him out...

Grumbot: I’m sick and tired of being called 'mortal' like, you don’t know that. Neither do I. I have never died even ONCE. Nothing has been proven yet. Stop making assumptions. It’s rude.

Jrumbot: I’d like to offer you moral support, but I have questionable morals.

Grian: I’ve come to a point in my life where I need a stronger word than fuck.

Mumbo: With great power comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later.

#hermitcraft #incorrect quotes #scatterpatter's incorrect quotes generator #grian #mumbo jumbo #grumbot #jrumbot

33 notes · View notes

fishyfishxd · 4 years ago

Text

Prompts:

Select a prompt and a ship and I’ll write you a one-shot.

‘Me? Really?’

‘Oh, please. They were all over you!’

‘You can tell me.’

‘Nap... please. Nap with me.’

‘You think I didn’t notice?’

‘Did you really think I’d do that?!’

‘You got very drunk last night, so you remember anything?’

‘Would you stop? I know you’re faking it.’

‘Come over here, I’ll keep you warm.’

‘I’ll stay if you want me too.’ Taken

‘You should probably learn a Silencing Charm.’ Taken

‘My lips hurt too, will you kiss them better?’

‘If you loved me that much, you’d tell people about us.’

‘Hogsmeade. You and me. This weekend.’

‘Just us for Christmas break, what are we going to do?’

‘No way, we’re not naming our kid that.’

‘You’re my soulmate!’

‘Why? Because I love you!’

‘So, I look hot after Quidditch practice, do I?’

‘I heard everything.’

‘You thought I’d forget?’

‘I think about you all the time.’

‘I saw your name on the map.’

‘They don’t even notice me.’

‘Can we stay like this forever?’

‘Can you please... I don’t know... Put a shirt on!’

‘Am I distracting you?’

‘That was kind of hot.’

‘I may or may not have listened in on that entire conversation.’

‘Do you think they like me?’

‘The Shrieking Shack seems like the perfect spot.’

‘We’re standing under the mistletoe.’

‘You kissed them! I saw you.’

‘Did you cheat on me?’

‘What the hell are they talking about?!’

‘You picked me for Secret Santa?’

‘Quidditch is gonna be fun tonight.’

‘But, I don’t wanna practice with you.’

‘Of course I find you annoying.’

‘Will you marry me?’

‘I wanna adopt a hundred kids and raise them with you.’

‘We’re gonna have a house, and a dog, and a couple kids running in the garden.’

‘Please say yes.’

‘You brought all that stuff, and forgot matches!’

‘Where is our child?’

‘They’re looking. Kiss me.’

‘How’d we end up here?’

‘Eleven year old me would freak if they saw us now.’

‘I wanna be with you, forever.’

‘I can’t deal with you right now.’

‘That’s my sweater.’

‘I love you, and I don’t care who knows it!’

‘Okay, the self-hatred needs to stop.’

‘Can you meet me at the hospital?’

‘Are you sick?’

‘How, the hell, did this happen?’

‘I’m pregnant, it’s your baby.’

‘You’re late.’

‘How much sleep have you been getting?’

‘That’s not healthy.’

‘Never scare me like that again.’

‘I love you, does that change your mind?’

‘I forgot?’

‘I can’t believe you’d do such a thing!’

‘You could’ve been killed.’

‘I can’t believe I forgot our anniversary.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.’

‘Don’t cry, you know I hate it when you cry.’

‘I can’t wait to put bruises all over that pretty skin.’

‘I hurt you, didn’t I?’

‘Yeah, you should feel sorry.’

‘Stop staring at them, and pay attention to me.’

‘Alone, in a dorm room, what are we going to do?’

‘There’s a lot of things on mind right now.’

‘It doesn’t hurt that bad!’

‘You lost our baby?!’

‘They don’t love me anymore.’

‘I don’t think you’re annoying.’

‘You’re sleeping on the sofa tonight.’

‘That’s not surprising.’

‘I didn’t mean to.’

‘They’re refusing to come out of the bathroom.’

‘I’m stuck.’

‘They’ve forgotten how to change back.’

‘I pity you.’

‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’

‘No. No. No.’

‘You’re drunk.’

‘You told me you liked them.’

‘I can tell when you’re lying, y’know.’

‘I’m in love.’

‘In my defense, I was left unsupervised.’

‘You’re jealous!’

‘That wasn’t supposed to happen.’

‘I love you?’

I’ll probably add to this a lot.

67 notes · View notes

chat-noir-always-here · 4 years ago

Text

“Hey Arnold!” and “Miraculous!” parallels

Ever have an idea for a post that you take forever to get around to because 2020 is

actively

trying

to kill you?!

Welp, that’s me. I mean, uh, this is that post.

Long post is long and I don’t like cuts cuz I’ve lost a few posts in the past using them. Please filter the tag “long post” I use it for walls of text like these.

So there’s this show from my childhood called Hey Arnold!

Having been on air before I had cable (I and my unsupervised brothers and sisters spent our childhood watching Jerry Springer and Maury because there was literally nothing else on our cheap little TV. How hilarious is that?) I didn’t really have much of an experience with Hey Arnold! aside from brief little glances at it when i visited a friends home or the rare occasion where they showed cartoons at school. By the time I got satellite, the show was no longer on the air save for some late night reruns and the Christmas special which aired in December along with other Nickelodeon Christmas episodes (THE best Christmas episode EVER btw).

Really I couldn’t remember much about it until hearing about the Jungle Movie finally getting a release date (a total flop but at least its no cliff hanger) and decided to re-watch the entire series in preparation for said movie.

By which point I had discovered another show—Miraculous.

At first glance the two shows have absolutely nothing in common. Miraculous being a French-born mahou shoujo-esque CGI superhero TV series about a couple of middle schoolers who regularly battle a walking peppermint-frappucino-looking psychopath. Hey Arnold! being a more realistic children’s sitcom about a young football-headed boy who deals out humanitarian aid in the form of advice and simple good deeds to his neighbors, classmates and friends.

In terms of setting, logic, and animation the two series are as different as night and day.

So imagine my pleasant surprise to discover a whole post’s worth of parallels shared between the two shows???

And here they are in no particular order:

1)Arnold’s Parents/Adrien’s mom

Prior to the start of Miraculous, Emilie Agreste disappeared under mysterious circumstances leaving her family behind. Later on it was revealed that she was in fact sleeping (dead?) in a glass coffin beneath the Agreste mansion--unbeknownst to Adrien, or anyone else in Paris save for Gabriel and Nathalie.

In a similar fashion, Arnold’s parents, Miles and Stella, also disappeared prior to the start of Hey Arnold! and like Emilie were always referred to as “missing” rather than “dead.”

The Jungle Movie later revealed Miles and Stella weren’t dead, but like Emilie appears to be doing in her coffin, they were sleeping. Having caught a bout of sleeping sickness (apparently they do not need to be hooked up to IVs or other medical devices while in a comatose state cuz fuck logic) they simply needed their orphaned son to come and cure them with the help of the magical golden heart Helga provided him with.

Perhaps Mari holds the key to waking Emilie? That would be nice to see.

Not the miraculous of course--but some other key.

Although personally I’m hoping for a hardcore, devastating ending like Emilie dying, Gabriel going to prison where he belongs, and Adrien leaving the country for a bit until the second Hawk Moth shows up because I just like devastating cliffhangers and angst and being in utter turmoil over fictional people. But that’s just me.

2) Their best friends are dating

Smol parallel here: Arnold’s best friend Gerald and Helga’s Best friend Phoebe wind up together in The Jungle Movie after being imprisoned together by Lasombra. Similar to how Nino and Alya ended up together after being imprisoned by Ladybug (for their protection, of course).

3) The Bag of Money Episode/ The Ladybug episode

OOh boy both of these episodes make me rage.

Some context about the Bag of Money episode: Arnold and his friends Gerald and Sid find a random bag of money containing almost $4000. Sid is ecstatic and wants to split the money evenly between the three boys, but Arnold worries it could just be lost and convinces them to let him, Arnold, take the money to the police station. On the way he accidentally switches the bag with another one that is identical and contains a bunch of useless junk, and when he tries to explain what happened to his friends they don’t believe him because their bag of money was accidentally taken by an “old lady with pink hair and a peg leg.”

Arnold’s a good boy and he’s telling the truth--but the truth sounds crazy, even to my ears. Sid accuses Arnold of stealing the money and spreads lies to their classmates, whom Arnold has spent the ENTIRE SERIES helping in some form or fashion. Despite everything he’s done for them though, the vast majority of the class come to believe Arnold is a thief. Even Gerald, Arnold’s closest friend, nearly believes Sid over Arnold but eventually comes to Arnold’s defense. The other kids (save for Helga who doesn’t really make an appearance this episode) gang up on Arnold, but thankfully the old lady with pink hair and a peg leg shows up with an officer and together they explain the bag of money is now at the lost and found where it will remain and if gone unclaimed will be returned to Arnold, Gerald and Sid.

Pretty much everything is resolved and things return to normal between the kids.

But I hate this episode. I hate this episode so, so much. Arnold has spent the entire series helping these people out in some form or fashion. Literally thats the entire show. And after everything he’s done for them they’re so. Quick. To. Turn. On. Him.

Sound familiar???

4) Hidden Personality vs. Surface Personality

I do not refer to the cruddy “true selves” thing half the Miraculous fandom believes in. Depending on one’s individual circumstances, environment and how comfortable they are, said person’s behavior can fluctuate or even do a complete 180. This can be kinda frustrating when dealing on one’s own--”Who am I anyway? Is that me or is this me???”

It’s all you, fam.

Arnold and Helga are themselves too, no matter what metaphorical/actual mask they put on. There’s the side that everyone sees and then there’s the side almost no one sees. The hidden personality isn’t hidden due to a lack of trust, necessarily, but rather it is the result of retreating to their respective “shells”--ones which both Arnold and Helga were kinda punched, kicked, and shoved into.

Helga’s surface personality: Class bully, puts up a tough front, constantly torments Arnold because she can’t stand him and his niceness

Helga’s hidden personality: Poetic, abused and isolated, is in love with Arnold to the point of being obsessed with him and bullies him via surface personality in order to hide that fact

Of course Adrien is no bully--his reasons for not being the “cunning, funny, ultra-charming Chat Noir” 24/7 DOES have a lot to do with his toxic household, his dad, and the overwhelming expectations which are constantly smothering him as Adrien.

Adrien is a bug under a magnifying glass (or so he feels)

Chat Noir is a chance for a freedom.

Adrien’s surface personality was molded by his dad.

Helga’s is the result of her entire family. Her father is brash and loud, her mother is a confirmed alcoholic, her sister is a gifted prodigy, well-rounded and spends most of the series at university or elsewhere. Although her sister, Olga, has been shown to genuinely care for Helga, Olga is kinda the reason their parents neglect Helga. With their first daughter being the genius and prodigy she is, Helga’s parents poured all of their pride and affection and parental devotion onto her. Meanwhile Helga had to walk to pre-school alone. At four years old. In the rain. Not for the last time.

Which leads me to the next parallel.

5) Umbrella in the Rain

squeals in delight over this parallel<3<3<3

If you’ve never seen Hey Arnold! do yourselves a favor and watch this short little clip over how Helga and Arnold first met. If you have seen it, watch it anyway because it is the most adorable clip in the entire show.

youtube

Dr. Bliss: “So nobody’s ever noticed you?”

Helga: “...There was someone.”

The soft way Helga confesses that--you can actually hear how grateful she is to have such a tender memory from such a painful time.

In a similar manner, Adrien offered his umbrella to Marinette. Of course Adrien did it because Mari had to walk home in the rain and Arnold did it as a simple gesture of kindness (seeing as they were already at the school)--one of the many kind acts he displays throughout the series.

But just like Adrien needed unconditional love coming from somewhere, so did Helga. They were both denied this one common necessity which everyone else around them had. It’s not a lot to ask for, and they should’ve already had it coming from their families--but they didn’t.

And then, one rainy day, there it was--the unconditional love they needed.

6) Clinginess

What happens when you take someone, specifically a love-starved abused child from an unstable home environment--deprived of the one thing most crucial to their mental well-being--and miraculously provide them with that very necessity?

Clinginess.

I can’t really think of the correct word to describe this. “Clinginess” is pretty close to what I’m trying to describe, if not on point, so let’s go with that.

What I mean is Helga and Adrien both need Arnold and Ladybug respectively. That’s not a bad thing--it’s okay to need somebody else. What’s bad is hinging your entire being on this one connection. For if either kiddo were to be left behind they wouldn’t handle it very well.

It can’t really be helped with either Helga or Adrien. They didn’t really have the option to learn certain things and went deprived of unconditional love for such a long time. They’re kids--nine and fourteen/fifteen respectively. They’re not perfect and they’re traumatized for life. Being denied love from your family--the very people designed to love you--would do that to a person. Naturally they would cling to the first people to show up and provide them with the love they needed.

The Hey Arnold! wiki says this about Helga and Arnold’s relationship

Due to her unstable family upbringing where both her mother and father constantly neglect [Helga] and shower all of their attention onto Olga, leaving her deprived of the love and attention she needed growing up. On her way to preschool, Arnold helped her by keeping the rain off her with an umbrella and even complimented her on her hairbow. He even later gave her crackers during their snack time. Arnold's kindness and being the first person to notice her quickly caused Helga to transfer all of her love and attention to Arnold.

Of course Adrien’s tunnel vision isn’t quite as bad as Helga’s.

He treats his friends better.

He does love his father--

Even though his father is THE.

WORST.

PARENT.

EVER!!!

--because he’s Adrien and he’s just too precious a cinnamon roll and that’s still his dad even if the man does belong behind bars.

7) Unhealthy Obsession

I--

I...

Ugh. I am not going to delve too far into this. You’re just going to have to take my word for it. Helga’s creepy stalker behavior is a thousand times worse than Marinette’s. That pic up there of Helga hiding out in Arnold’s room watching him is pretty decent evidence to back up my argument, but it’s hardly the only example or even the worst incident.

Honestly I’m amazed at what Nicktoons were able to get away with in the late nineties/early 2000s.

But yes, Helga’s obsession with Arnold is rather unhealthy in the most extreme moments leading her to display behavior which is more often than not disturbing and concerning.

The Hey Arnold! wiki has this to say about Helga’s obsession with Arnold

Helga is possessive of her love for Arnold and thinks non-stop about him to the point of obsession. This is evidenced throughout the series by the many shrines and poems she makes of Arnold and of her frequent dramatic soliloquies about her love for Arnold.

Again--Mari isn’t as bad as all that. She’s a sweet girl with many healthy relationships in her life. She has ambition, creativity, and drive. But yeah she can be rather possessive of Adrien too, and that needs to stop. Like right now. Adrien doesn’t need another girl being possessive of him and thinking he’s perfect--he needs someone who acknowledges him as a flawed person and loves him despite that.

As for Helga and Arnold--show creator Craig Bartlett confirmed they are “made for each other” and wind up married with three kids, so I’m guessing Helga grew out of some of these bad habits? Or at least I hope so...

8) Helper/Humanitarian tendencies

As mentioned before, the plot of Hey Arnold! is more or less about Arnold helping people. As stated by Gerald in The Jungle Movie, “He’s a humanitarian! Like his parents!” Of course not every episode is about Arnold helping people. There are episodes devoted to supporting characters and they’re just as enjoyable and satisfying.

But as he is the titular character he spends a lot of time in the spotlight.

Remember that “best christmas special EVER” episode I mentioned before?

The reason it’s the best special, in my less than humble opinion, is due to a few things.

The special is not about Santa Claws. In fact, I don’t think he’s even mentioned, let alone shown and treated like an actual living character.

The focus on the entire episode is again on Arnold helping someone, but he doesn’t succeed. Not really.

The one who succeeded in helping someone was Helga, who accomplished the goal Arnold had set out to do.

The episode deals with some rather dark subject matter and is actually quite heartwarming as the “perfect present” Arnold was trying to provide someone with wasn’t something you can buy in the store

It’s also one of the episodes where Helga’s love for Arnold leaves her to do good and as her love for him is a secret, she expects nothing in return. She’s just happy to help him.

Kinda similar to Mari who is, as Adrien puts it in Mayura, “Our every day Ladybug.” Her kindness and devotion to helping others is what drives her as Ladybug and Marinette. It’s what brought Ivan and Mylene together. Is the reason Nathaniel and Mark now have a comic book together. And at the end of the day, that’s the reason for her strange behavior around Adrien--she wants to help him. Even if it’s just as a “good friend.”

9) There are two main characters

Although Hey Arnold! is technically a show about Arnold, one could argue it is just as much Helga’s story.

Similarly, Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir is named thusly in order to convey the fact that Adrien is just as much a main character as Marinette is.

Although I must say Hey Arnold! did a much better job of giving it’s co-character their dues. GIVE. ME. MORE. CHAT NOIR. FOCUSED. EPISODES. DAMMIT.

But, yes, in terms of screen time, Helga gets about as much as Arnold does. Her story and struggles were given just as much importance as Arnold’s and many people have even come to believe that the show is really about Helga. I’d say its about both of them.

10) Constantly bumping into each other

Granted this happens between Arnold and Helga more often than it does to the love square dorks.

But yes the two people meant to be together keep knocking into each other in their respective universes.

I forget who, but I remember reading that someone a while back theorized that this was the universe’s way of trying to push Arnold and Helga together. Kinda like the “Now kiss!” meme

Perhaps it’s the same for Adrien and Marinette?

;)

#long post #adriennette #shortaki #hey arnold #miraculous ladybug #love square #nicktoons #zag toons

66 notes · View notes

sourbat · 4 years ago

Note

hmm maybe magmel and first time making the other laugh?

hello. this is over 4k words, because of course it is

Rating: T for swearing and suggestive conversations

Read it on Ao3, or keep reading below

A general meeting occurred exactly at twelve. The subject: team building.

Melmord couldn’t tell if the presentation was a punishment aimed at him, Magnus, both, or something Offdensen deemed necessary for the betterment of the company. Admittedly, their first few days partnered together could have worked better. Melmord ended up writing a few complaints regarding the threats of violence during the first two days, a meeting with human resources after a suggestive comment about deserving a busted lip on the fourth, and practically begging Offdensen to “have a word” with Magnus regarding his short temper close to the end of their first week as workmates. He assumed Charles wouldn’t bother, and either tell Melmord to make it work, or accept that Magnus was, to some extent, equal parts partner and penitence.

But was the powerpoint necessary?

“Here’s, ah, a slide I think many of us here can relate to,” Charles’ voice broke through the stuffy air and uncomfortable silence hanging in the meeting room. “Behavioral Management in the Workplace.”

Across from Melmord, and sitting close to where Charles stood, was Magnus. Arms crossed and legs kicked up on the table’s edge, he was high on alert, defensive and incredibly unapproachable. There sat the first musician Melmord was charged with since meeting Dethklok. The first real talent Melmord was assigned, and when Melmord tried greeting him the first time, had a ball of phlegm hacked and unloaded right between his feet. The first prisoner Melmord had the pleasure of meeting, speaking with, and discovering a shared hatred of Offdensen, though to what extent Magnus refused to share. There were a lot of things Magnus Hammersmith declined to provide Melmord, including the reason behind his imprisonment, his prior relationship with Charles, and why the hell he was “worthy” enough to come back. The file Offdensen handed him hours before his assignment only contained the basic information, the kind of trivia any committed Dethklok fan would already know. The whole “stabbing Nathan Explosion” thing was new and certainly worth discussing drinks over one night, but aside from that? He inquired to know more about Magnus, of course, but according to Offdensen, had to “earn it” on his own time.

Melmord shrugged at the backdrop of words playing around him, setting his interest on the exposed, pink scar resting dead center between an older, paler set of scars already adorning Hammersmith’s chest. Technically speaking, Melmord didn’t know what killed Magnus Hammersmith. The pink, healed scar suggested something involving the chest: a heart attack perhaps? Heart failure? But if that was the case, what made Dethklok’s infamous rhythm guitarist worth the trip to hell and back?

“Fjordslorn?”

Melmord returned to the darkened meeting room, to Offdensen’s reflective glare cutting at his throat. Next to him, Magnus remained positively disengaged. At the center of the table was a hat filled with shreds of paper.

Melmord raised a brow at the two. “Come again?”

Melmord watched Charles bring his eyes to a close, then raise his hand and signal a klokateer to hit the lights. With a restrained sigh, he asked, “Can you manage several unsupervised minutes conversing with your client without upsetting him?”

Carefully, Melmord made a quick glance to the projector, images blurred from the additional light now blaring in the room. The title of the slide read something along the lines of exercises, and beneath it a list of team activities. He saw an image of a small, happy-go-lucky group of hoods huddled together, pulling cards from a bowl.

A team building activity? Really?

Melmord returned to Charles. “Sure, as long as you’re back before we perform the trust falls.”

Offdensen’s eyes narrowed, frown thinning to an almost white line glowing with disapproval. It’s a slap on the wrist compared to what he was used to from Charles. With a sigh, he shut off the power point, then turned to Magnus.

“Magnus.” He placed a hand on Magnus’ shoulder, steady against the jolt that arose at the contact. It was like Magnus had been struck by lightning. He looked ready to leave his seat. Tear at his jacket and toss it to the floor. Melmord almost flinched in reaction, watching silently as Magnus’ eye lit up, not with fear, but pure indignation.

He turned, disgusted, entirely repulsed by the hand that remained, but with a swallow, made it all disappear. An exhale, and his shoulders sank. His wild hair deflated. He withdrew. “Charles,” Magnus returned, voice not carrying a shred of what Melmord was sure he’d seen just seconds before. It still wasn’t fear, but it was something. Another fine reminder that they shared a common enemy.

Charles slipped off Magnus, then headed to the door. Behind him, two klokateers followed.

“Gentlemen,” Charles announced, then opened the double door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. If there’s any problem, these two will, ah, act as mediators, understand?”

He shut the doors behind him. The gears immediately stood in front of it, blocking Magnus and Melmord’s only exit.

Melmord waited until he heard the footsteps disappear, then started to relax. Finally, the devil was gone. The lackeys were still hanging around, but there was a change in the air. Even Magnus, who’d been so rigid, finally let go of his arms in favor of having them drop and rest on his knees as he sat.

Glancing at the door, Melmord chuckled, “Can’t stand the man, but I got to give it to him: he makes a mean presentation.”

Magnus’ bad eye twitched. He sank into his chair, the heel of his boots now barely hanging from the table's edge.

“Damn, not even a snicker?” Melmord asked, shrugging at the less than stellar response.

“I’ll laugh when you finally say something warranting it.”

Was there ever a day in which Magnus didn’t have a stick lodged deep in his ass? Well, so much for the presentation doing its job, not that Melmord could give it any credence to begin with. Hopefully Offdensen wouldn’t test them on the subject later. Melmord could handle a difficult client, but failing a test?

“Well, I appreciate the honesty,” Melmord said, coming to a rise.

He left his chair, kicking back his seat with the sole of his shoe. He glanced at the hat filled with colored pieces of folded post-it notes and rolled his eyes. Did Charles really assign someone the task of writing conversation starters and then folding them into some worn hat? For what purpose, other than to waste their precious time? Melmord could go on, but left the thought to hang at the edge of that foreboding cliff. After death, time was literally the only thing Melmord had, which meant Charles wouldn’t return until whatever sick lesson he wanted to teach had finally resonated. That, or in increments of five minutes, like the slide suggested.

With a sigh, Melmord reached for a folded sheet of paper. “How about–”

“You do realize this is a waste?” Magnus loudly interrupted. “Charles has us together for the sole purpose of watching us bicker.”

“And you’re fine with proving his point?”

Magnus sneered at him. “Excuse me?”

The paper crumbled in Melmord’s hand. “Contrary to what he’s told you, I’m not a complete fool.”

Magnus remained unimpressed by the declaration, and merely shrugged in response. A nasty jab at the pride, but Melmord knew that was the point. This wasn’t supposed to be easy. Some clients will be difficult.

“Offdensen wants us miserable,” Melmord continued, reopening his palm to find the crumbled shred of paper. “Guy’s been busy. Too busy to fuck with us as much as he’d like.”

That had to be it. Why else would Offdensen award him with the challenge and opportunity to train and work alongside a musician? Magnus was well known in the music industry as someone difficult to work with, to the point that once his name was on a project to help boost sales he was cut and kicked from further creative output. But was that punishment enough for someone as bored and desperate as Melmord? It wasn’t like Offdensen was offering him freedom or the chance to promote from his position to an official member of the dethstaff for kissing up to Hammersmith. Just the order to work with him and do everything in his power to get some new, original creative content from Hammersmith. That was all, and Melmord hungrily took the job knowing the rumors shadowing the man. He’d been that eager to take on the project. They both had, so whatever hesitations and challenges they posed were merely products of their own undoing. This presentation, cringe inducing as it was, held no contest. This was a test posed by Charles, and right now they were playing into his hands.

“He’s relying on us to do the job for him.” Melmord snickered as Magnus’ attention suddenly came alive. “You said it yourself, right? So, you going to prove to him we can’t get along, or can we get this cheesy team building crap done and over with?”

He held his ground, patiently awaiting Magnus’ response. There was a long, drawn out silence that followed. Still, Melmord waited. He knew he couldn’t delve into the nitty gritty with Hammersmith. The man wasn’t prone to easy persuasion. But Melmord hung to that hunch that they were both desperate to chat with anyone aside from their malevolent overlord, and leaned against the table until Magnus finally snorted a hot burst of air through his nostrils.

“Fine,” Magnus replied stiffly. “I’ll placate you and Charles if it means making it back to my room sooner rather than later.”

“A fine goal,” Melmord responded, keeping his tone as neutral to avoid offending the older man. He had Magnus working with him for now, and that was a start. If he could get through a few questions and make it out without upsetting Magnus any further, then maybe Charles would put an end to this silly game. Hell, maybe Charles would congratulate him on a job well done.

He snorted at the thought as he unfolded the paper. The post-it read:

Are you making the most of your second chance at lie? Why, or why not?

Melmord stared blankly at the wrinkled sheet. He read it over one more time, his jaw clenching and teeth grinding as it played out in his head. Was that correct? Lie, or did the klokateer charged with writing out the questions make a mistake? Were they capable of such? Did Charles write this? Was this part of the game? Was this for him?

“Well?” Magnus asked, still disinterested. He rubbed his sole into the table’s edge. “What does it say?”

Melmord put on a smile. “Your… favorite mixed drink?”

Magnus tugged the base of his beard, eyes cast upwards as he thought a moment. “Whiskey sour. No egg white. Fresh cherry.”

Short, quick and to the point. But it was a response, and it was something Melmord could most definitely use in the future. It had always been a habit of his to take his new clients out for a drink, and to continue inviting those who were easily swayed into making poor decisions under the influence. Though he doubted he could take Magnus out any time soon, he could at least make a note of his preferred poison and give him a good time soon, should Magnus allow it. A hard liquor man, too. Non-conventional, either. Not afraid to go against a recipe for his own comfort, not that Melmord needed the drink to figure that one out.

“Nice, a whiskey man,” Melmord replied coolly, then selected the most nonthreatening drink he could still compare with Magnus’ choice. Equally unconventional, but recognizable. Nothing too fancy. “I’m a tad less refined. Cuba Libre, heavy on the white rum.”

“Defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?”

“I like to have a good time,” Melmord replied. He rolled the sheet into a tight little ball, then tossed it over his shoulder. “To add on, I like it with two lime wedges and sativa. Huh, guess we have something in common.”

“Which is?”

“We both like our vitamin C.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “You’re not funny.”

The statement arrived less harsh than the previous comments. Another good sign. Melmord shrugged. “I got plenty more where that came from.”

Magnus shook his head at the thought, then turned inward to the hat filled with conversation starters. “Guess it’s my turn,” he said, dropping his long legs from the table. They landed hard with a thud that rattled Melmord.

He froze as Magnus reached for a shred of paper. “Oh, you–”

Magnus picked up a sheet from the messy pile. Anxious, Melmord pressed more of his weight against the table, dug his nails into the fine wood. His eyes locked on fingers unfolding a small pink slip of paper. Magnus raised the sheet up and quietly read the line. Silence returned, and Melmord swallowed thickly at the sight of Magnus’ pupils shrinking to a dot at whatever was scribbled on the sheet. Melmord had no idea what sort of questions had been laid out for them, and whether the previous one he read was written with him in mind. If any were written with him in mind. God, if only he knew what sins Magnus committed beforehand, what foolish dance he engaged with Charles to be trapped in this predicament.

A clock ticked. Melmord shrank into his chair. “Well?

Magnus finally lowered the slip. “How many years have you been working in the music industry?”

Relief.

Melmord fell into his seat, lighter and mind temporarily cleared of doubt. With a hand, he fixed his hair behind his ear. “Seven together,” he answered smoothly, replying to Magnus’ recovering stare with a honey sweet smile.

An interview question? Well, a tad conventional, but he appreciated Magnus’ effort for trying to hide the truth and keep with the peace. And an interview question, while lackluster, was something Melmord could manage without effort.

“I’ll be real, music’s been an on and off relationship for me,” he explained with a strong command of his words. “I take my business where it’s booming, and music? That girl’s volatile. I’ve had my hits, but I’ve also experienced my losses, and although my manner of style suggests I like a good time, I prefer my career like my relationships: easy and stable. You dig?”

There was a little bit of everything there. Plenty of options for Magnus to pick and comb through, select and build off from. Vague enough for anyone listening to not make any sense of, and be forced to interpret on Offdensen’s order at a later point.

And to his surprise, Magnus smiled at the question. “Indeed,” he replied, bringing his arms back up. But when he crossed them, Magnus didn’t keep his appendages close to his chest, but instead let them rest upon his stomach. “Well, by this point… I’ve been living it for about half my life? Let’s see, I didn’t get discovered until I was about twenty-three…”

Melmord lifted from the scarred chest, to the thick array of dark brown and graying curled laced throughout his many waves. Melmord quickly performed the math, and like clock, devised a compliment. “You’re lookin’ pretty damn for someone…” he stopped once he saw Magnus start to regrow his frown. “I’ll be quiet.”

Magnus’ fingers tightly wrapped around his thin, frail waist. Melmord tried not to notice, but quietly cursed himself for his impatience. Why did he go and inject humor the second things were just starting to let up?

Magnus huffed, clearly offended by Melmord’s attempt. “…to make a long story short, I’ve been on and off projects. Much like yourself, I chase after success. If something stops sounding like a good idea, I cut my ties and move on.”

Short, vague and to the point. Great.

Still smiling, Melmord clasped his hands together and hoped there was more to come. He had Magnus relaxing a second ago, surely he hadn’t fucked up so monumentally that he was back to square one. That couldn’t possibly be all, could it?

Melmord playfully shook his head at the silence. “That can’t be all though? Given your history–”

“What about my history?” Magnus inquired stiffly. With his thumb and forefinger, he raveled the pink post-it sheet into a compressed ball, then brought it down on the table, crushing it with his fist. The smack echoed in the small, stuffy room, and old rumors about Hammersmith’s unpredictable behavior arose to smother any remaining familiarity that sparked between them.

“Nothing.” Melmord pointed to the hat situated on the table. “My turn.”

Magnus’ heated stare never left his hand. Melmord scooped folded sheets of green, blue and yellow post-its, letting several fall from between his spreading fingers until only one remained resting on top of his open palm. Hesitantly, Melmord picked it up. He unfolded the sheet and carefully read the sentence to himself:

How did you die?

Melmord’s throat dried at the final word. Somewhere, he heard his screams getting lost in the winds, the distant howl and pleas of his animal spirit calling to the heavens for another shot, a second chance at life.

“What does it say?”

Magnus’ voice disappeared under the growing nausea, the darkness numbing Melmord’s senses and drowning out his thoughts, his ability to push words out from his constricting throat. This question. Was this question just for him?

“Well, Fjordslorn?”

Melmord lowered the yellow sheet. “Uhm, what’s your favorite…”

Wind spiraling. Falling. Magnus watching from afar, growing smaller, fading.

“My favorite what?”

“…Brittney Spears song?”

“What?”

“You know?” Melmord blinked, surprised by how soft he’d gone. He cracked a nervous, strained grin. He fought the deafening rumble of an incoming train threatening to crush and end him, and scrambled for a chorus line, a melody or title that he resonated with. Anything, but what was daring to crush him a second time. “The artist?” he added with forced gusto. “I, uh, really have a thing for “Femme Fatale”. Yeah, that one. Some real bangers in that CD, let me tell you.”

Magnus was incredulous. “Are you serious?”

“I know,” Melmord said, rolling the paper between his sweaty palm and the table underneath it, “It’s recent, and there aren’t many big hits in that one, but here me out: I’m pretty sure “How I Roll” was written specifically for my Friday night benders. Like, it’s a “party and get fucked” song, but it’s confident and in control. Just the right amount of chaos before crashing into bed with a stranger. My kind of anthem if you ask me.”

Melmord heard the words coming out from him, and wanted to scream. Of all the impromptu questions for him to come up with, this was arguably one of his more cringe-worthy ones. Pop subjects were best regulated to other pop artists, preferably the budding kind lacking any sense of identity. To bring up another artist in front of someone already so seasoned, and of an entirely different genre. And fucking Brittney Spears, too. If Melmord wanted to come off non-threatening, that artist and song certainly did the trick. Magnus was busy staring at him, mouth agape and being supported with the help of a hand. Eyes glazed in a layer of perplexing aura, a haze from which the hard rocker was trying to discern from a joke. This had to be a joke, right? But it wasn’t and Melmord, panicked, went on about the song’s upbeat rhythm, the positive notes surrounding female sexuality, and how up until recently, resonated with the whole “nine lives” bit.

“Like, doesn’t even have to be for Friday night’s either,” Melmord went on, to the point where the men guarding the door were now invested in his argument. “There’s a lot of workout potential in that release. It’s a fun song. She’s having fun and living her life.”

“Melmord,” Magnus interrupted as Melmord mentally scrambled for something palpable. Lost in the moment, and caught red-handed by Magnus, he stuttered himself into muteness. He was a man proudly poised in his seat, but behind the visage, he was shaking, sick and at a complete loss for words. Across, Magnus leaned close. He pointed at the flattened, yellow thing resting on the table. “What did the paper actually have written down?”

Without moving, Melmord brought his eyes to the stained paper. Did he have it in him to confess what he had read to himself, and why it affected him so? Could he effectively call Magnus’ bluff and return the very same question towards him without risking a black eye or tossed chairs? He wanted to stay on Magnus’ good side. Magnus looked concerned. That was a good sign, right? Did it matter? Did being honest matter if it meant facing the deadlights charging at him at over 100mph?

Melmord carefully resituated himself into place, brushing his coat down and fixing any slight wrinkles starting to form. He reclined into his seat, resting his hands behind his head. “We’re doing trust exercises, and I just poured out my heart and soul to you,” Melmord stated as best he could without faltering. “Now you’re telling me you don’t trust me? I’m hurt, Hammersmith.”

It was so quiet Melmord was sure he could hear the maggots in the walls squirming from the line he uttered. A chair groaned. A klokateer coughed.

Magnus was beside himself. He stared at Melmord, dumbfounded that he’d have the gall to use humor to deflect, and after so many warnings about how unamusing he’d already proven himself. His jaw sank, as did his hands. And then he snickered. He shut his lips and fell into a low, short chuckle that was further muffled by him slowly covering his mouth.

“Alright, Fjordslorn,” Magnus replied. He fell into his seat, hair flowing over it as he drew a fine smile for Melmord. “I’ll let you have that.”

If it were possible, Melmord would have slipped in his chair. He slipped a sigh through his barely parted lips, letting the fear that collected spill out while Magnus regained better control of himself. When he was feeling a little better, he asked, “How about a song title, while we’re at it?”

Magnus snorted. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Alright,” Melmord conceded. “I'll take the laugh, though. Save it for a rainy day, if you don’t mind?”

And just like that, the topic was dropped. Easier than Melmord could have hoped, and over a terrible joke, a sad attempt to deflect from the conversation. It wasn’t very funny, but Hammersmith laughed, and Melmord hardly had a chance to process the significance behind the act when Charles returned a few minutes later. It was hard to say whether he was pleased or upset at the peaceful scene he had entered. Magnus smiling, and Melmord so relieved. Charles merely looked over the table, the few tossed pieces of conversation starters, and gave a short nod.

Two new klokateers followed after him, one wheeling a cart carrying something that was covered in a sheet. The second klokateer picked up the hat. Both Melmord and Magnus watched from their seats. Neither had bothered removing any more shreds of folded post-its from the hat. While they never commented on it beyond what was already hinted by Magnus, both harbored their own suspicions regarding the remaining questions posed. While it was pointless to make accusations, both agreed to keep their mouths shut about it and agree that Charles carried some ulterior motive. Whether that motive was to unsettle or unify would remain unspoken, as neither were willing to take a risk and openly discuss Charles when his men were within earshot.

“Offdensen,” Melmord greeted dryly.

“Charles,” Magnus murmured, eyes avoiding said man as he took to the front of the table.

“Gentlemen,” Charles greeted with his usual, contained tone. “Glad to see the two of you chatting. Are we, ah, ready to begin the next set of exercises?”

“Yes, but only if you let me catch you first,” Melmord sarcastically jested and, to his delight, heard another snicker from Magnus.

“Now is not the time for jokes,” Charles stated firmly, earning the shuddered grimace of several cornered gears. Such a reaction would normally crumble Melmord’s resolve and make him regret his decision, but in angering Charles, Melmord only humored Magnus more, and as Charles’ eyes narrowed in annoyance, Magnus broke into a fit of airy laughter, enjoying every second of his flushed face, many lines and trembling bottom lip. How could Melmord possibly regret speaking when Magnus’ antagonistic laughter carried the schedule off course, and jabbed at the once unmovable figure that haunted their every waking moment.

Best of all: this time, it sounded real.

#magnus hammersmith #melmord fjordslorn #magmelm #gluku-pikron #thank you

14 notes · View notes

zwritestuff · 4 years ago

Text

Placebo Effect (One-shot) - Monét/Monique

A/N: Hi! This is a paid commission I did for @derpy-avocado. I did my best to live up to her wishes for this fic, and I hope you all like it too! :D If you’d like a commission, all the information is on my pinned post.

Summary: Monique is sick and asks Monét to take care of him.

1,692 words | on ao3.

Moonique: are u free today?

Monét barely has time to read the text when Bob is pushing him to keep on walking, albeit rather harshly, otherwise they’ll miss the greenlight. He just huffs, haphazardly putting it in his back pocket and adjusting his gym bag, pinching Bob’s arms once they’re on the other side of the street.

“If you wanted to push me in front of the cars, you should’ve just done that,” he jokingly says, and Bob just rolls his eyes.

“I don’t need you as a ghost tugging on my cold feet for the rest of my life, thank you very much,” Bob deadpans, but a chuckle escapes him. Monét just snorts, turning around the corner of the street, heading for their nearest Starbucks.

Summer is on its last stage, leaving space for autumn’s chilly winds and brown leaves. But the temperatures have yet to drop, and Monét isn’t sure why he allows Bob to drag him to the gym on hot days like these—best friend privileges, he supposes.

Between small talk he forgets about Monique’s text, until they get to Starbucks and the line is larger than they anticipated. He turns to Bob to go on with their conversation when he feels his phone buzz, before they hear a moo. Bob cocks a brow in his direction, but Monét is more than used to the ridiculous ringtone Monique set up for himself.

“Mo?”

“‘Nét.” His voice sounds solemn—and nasal. “You ignored my texts, bitch. I’m dying and you ignored me,” he says, as dramatic as Monét knows him to be, and he can’t help to laugh.

“Okay, first, I saw your first text while I was walking, I was going to answer. Second, I’m pretty sure you’re not actually dying.” He hears a whine on the other side of the line and gives a tiny smile, accompanied by a chuckle. Bob purses his lips as if he were to say something, but his mouth stays shut.

“Excuses, excuses.” He can almost see Monique dismissing what he said with a wave of his hand. “I’m sick, think I got a cold or somethin’. ‘M burnin’ up, my nose’s runny, my throat’s sore—and I’m bored outta my mind,” he sighs deeply, to really sell his acting.

Monét cocks a brow, “Pretty sure boredom isn’t part of the symptoms,” he says, amused. Monique groans on the other side of the line.

“Of course it isn’t, you dumbass.” There’s a small pause before he continues, “I just—I want someone to hang out with to not feel so miserable, y’know,” he admits in a whisper, and really, it shouldn’t make Monét’s heart speed up, but it does.

He purses his lips, glancing towards Bob, who seems much more preoccupied with his own phone. He knows they’re supposed to film a video and their podcast, amongst other things—but a day off can’t hurt, can it?

“Alright, I’ll come by. I’m at Starbucks, you want anything?” He asks, though he knows Monique’s usual order by heart. And sure enough, Monique recites it back to him. “I’ll be there in ten, maybe. The door’s locked?”

“I’ll unlock it now,” Monique says simply, and Monét hears some fumbling in the background. “Thanks, Nét,” he mumbles with earnest, making Monét smile lopsidedly.

“Anytime,” he whispers back before hanging up, and when he puts away his phone and goes to meet Bob’s gaze, there’s a questioning glare piercing right through him. “What?”

Bob just stares at him for a solid second before speaking, “It was Monique, wasn’t it? You got that look on your face, you know the one. No wonder you’re abandoning me that easy.” He goes straight to the point, with a shit eating grin. Monét just cocks a brow, trying to not look flustered.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he says, but he knows—it’s just he’d rather not think about it now, not when he’s on his way to see him.

Bob gives him sneaky glances and teases him a fair share until he leaves, and all Monét can do is pretend he doesn’t hear him.

Monét arrives to Monique’s apartment in the blink of an eye, with his stupidly complicated order, and unceremoniously lets himself in.

Immediately, he’s greeted by the sound of SZA’s latest song blasting from Monique’s room, and he smiles a little before he makes a beeline for it. The door is wide open, and right away he can see Monique bundled in a bunch of blankets, his eyes are closed, peeking out from under the covers, and he looks so peaceful he’d hate to ruin the moment.

But then again, his coffee is getting cold, and he knows Monique hates cold coffee.

“Wow, you really look like shit,” he jokingly says, making Monique’s eyes snap open. He kicks off the blanket covering him and makes the motion to stand up from bed, but Monét takes a long stride and makes him settle back down.

“Thanks for coming,” he beams, turning the music just a notch down. He makes space in the bed for Monét, and he gladly settles by his side, and there’s something comforting by the familiarity of the motion. “D’you get my order right?”

“A venti Americano blonde espresso with caramel syrup and almond milk, right?” He asks, knowing the answer, and pride swells in his chest when Monique squeals in excitement, making grabby hands at the drink.

Monét’s own drink is already half empty, so he nibbles on it silently while Monique is cuddled up by his side, telling him about this one gig where he did shots with the host, how he felt sick over the course of the next days, pinning the blame on the host. Monét just listens, amused, unable to wipe the grin off his face whenever he glances to Monique out of the corner of his eye and sees him talking with his hand and making gestures, to really tell a compelling story.

They stay like that for what feels like forever, talking aimlessly about everything and anything, listening to SZA’s second album, and letting a comfortable silence fall when there’s nothing to say, just sipping on their drinks until the last drop. Monét leaves for a moment to use the bathroom, and Monique lets out a long breath.

He’s not sure why his first instinct upon realizing he’s sick was to call Monét instead of seeing a doctor, but he can’t deny his company brings him a sort of peace he only feels when he’s with him. And Monique isn’t stupid, he knows what it is and why he feels like that, but he’d rather protect their friendship a little longer.

He gets up to get a glass of water while Monét is still busy in the bathroom, and he aimlessly stands in the middle of the kitchen, still wrapped up in his comfy blankets, when he hears it—the ice cream truck tune.

Monique smiles widely, peeking over at the door of the bathroom. He knows he’s not supposed to go out like that and Monét will chastise him, but Monét can forgive him once he comes back with ice cream for the two. Right?

“Do you have any idea of the heart attack you almost gave me?” Monét exclaims, once he finds Monique sitting on the sidewalk, melting ice creams on each hand and a smug smile, still wrapped up in blankets.

“In my defense, you left me unsupervised, and I bought you an ice cream too!” Monique holds his hand out, offering him the sweet, and Monét glares at him, begrudgingly accepting it and kneeling down next to him.

“Girl, you’re a grown ass adult, I left you for one minute to use the bathroom and you disappear!”

“One minute? Seemed like an eternity to me,” Monique says nonchalantly, carelessly licking the ice cream. His tone is jokey, but there’s some truth to his words.

If he sees Monét blush before he looks away and scoops him up in his arms, Monique doesn’t say anything. Monét chastises him on their way back, the ice cream melting before he can finish it, and Monique would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy their proximity.

Monét vows to not let him out of his sight while he’s there, and proposes they watch something on Netflix, and it totally isn’t Monique’s idea to cover Monét with his own blankets to have him closer. They have a mixed marathon of SpongeBob and Avatar when they can’t settle on just one, and if Monique feels his heart skip when Monét insists he rests his head on his chest, he’ll never admit it.

“Y’know, I think it was always obvious Katara would end up with Aang,” Monét comments out of nowhere, and Monique cocks a brow, silently prompting him to go on. “I mean, just look at the way he looks at her. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t pick up on it if someone looked you that way,” he muses mysteriously, and Monique has to agree.

“Well, yeah, but why are you—” He glances up to meet Monét’s gaze, and the words die in his throat.

It seems planned, the way Monét is looking at him while the show plays on the background, mimicking Aang’s lovey-dovey gaze to Katara. It sends chills right down his spine.

He’s looking at his lips, and it makes him wonder who’ll be the one to make the move. In the end, Monique isn’t thinking straight, blame it on the way her brain shut downs when he’s with Monét or the fever, but the next thing he knows is that he stops holding back and clashes his lips with Monét’s.

It feels childish to say a canyon of butterflies exploded on his stomach, but that’s what happens.

“I think that made me feel better,” Monique confesses sheepishly, once they pull apart, and Monét just chuckles, pulling him closer.

“Oh, yeah? I’m more than glad to be your placebo effect,” he says, “You still need to see a doctor, though.”

Monique rolls his eyes, biting back a smile. “Don’t ruin the moment, bitch.”

#my fanfiction #rpdr fanfiction #justice for momo #monique heart #monet x change #paid commission

9 notes · View notes