#its what je deserves. its what they both deserve.

[macchiatosdumptruck]

Was telling @disbear that jimwen would 100% be the type of couple to have nasty, disrespectful, hair-pulling, name-calling, spitting-in-mouths sex, and then go have a date by holding hands at the farmers market or something.

Imagine my disappointment when they're just a small part of the show tag on AO3, and they have like 10 E rated fics

There's no way I'm the only one who sees it

[youvegotmailpdf]

was scrolling on a taylor blog for fun taylor posts and saw the most heinous most factually incorrect most ‘all arabs are muslim terrorists’ pro israel take im seething with rage i have never ever seen anything so blatantly wrong and disgusting. i do it to myself by venturing outside my dash literally never again

[harrysfolklore]

i’ve always loved the piastri sis lore because the sibling dynamic is so healthy but just to switch it up a little bit in the tiny verstappen!sis universe i can imagine her skipping out on the WDC celebrations with max and be with charles instead and max is a little mad at her at qatar until kelly knocks sense into him 🥰

verstappen!sister was one of the first f1 fics i ever posted 🥺🥺 its kinda heartwarming that you guys still remember it and want to read more about them! it was nice to take a dip into that little world agai, i hope you like this!

READ VERSTAPPEN!YN HERE

The neon lights of Las Vegas blurred through as you rushed through the paddock, your heart torn between two directions. Behind you, the thunderous celebration at Red Bull's garage continued – your brother Max had just sealed his fourth world championship. Any other day, you'd be right there, spraying champagne and screaming until your voice gave out.

But right now, all you could think about was Charles.

You found him in the Ferrari cooldown room, still in his race suit, head in his hands. He looked up when you entered, those green eyes stormy with frustration.

"Mon coeur," he whispered, and despite his evident pain, his lips curved into a small smile at the sight of you. "You're here."

You crossed the room quickly, wrapping your arms around him. He buried his face in your neck, breathing deeply. "Of course I'm here. Always."

"I had it," he mumbled against your skin. "I had the pace, the position... everything. Then they called me in at the worst possible moment—" His voice cracked slightly.

You ran your fingers through his hair soothingly. "I know, baby. I watched the whole thing."

Charles pulled back slightly, cupping your face with both hands. "You should be celebrating with Max, though. It's his championship. I don't want to take you away from that."

"You're not taking me anywhere," you said firmly, pressing your forehead to his. "I choose to be here."

He kissed you softly, gratefully. "Je t'aime. What did I do to deserve you?"

"Existed," you smiled against his lips. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

As you were leaving the cooldown room, hand in hand with Charles, you nearly collided with Max in the corridor. Your brother was still in his race suit, championship cap askew, smelling of champagne and victory.

"YN?" His voice was smaller than usual. "Where were you? Everyone was asking... we were all celebrating and you just disappeared."

Guilt twisted in your stomach. "Max, I'm so sorry, I—"

"She was with me," Charles said quietly, squeezing your hand.

Max's face fell slightly, though he tried to hide it. "Oh." He looked between you both, jaw working like he was trying to find the right words. "I thought... it's the championship, YN. Our fourth championship."

"I know," you said, stepping forward to hug him tightly. "And I'm so, so proud of you. You were incredible out there. But Charles needed me."

Max returned the hug, but you could feel the tension in his shoulders. When he pulled back, his expression was complicated – hurt mixed with resignation.

"Sure, whatever. Stay with your boyfriend." He shook his head, jaw clenched. "It's fine. Not like it's my fourth world championship or anything."

The sarcasm in his voice cut deep. Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you and Charles standing in the corridor.

The next morning, you found Max in the hotel gym, pounding away at a treadmill despite probably being hungover from the celebrations. You knew your brother well enough to recognize when he was working out his frustrations physically.

"Max," you called out softly.

He didn't look at you, just kept running. "Shouldn't you be with Charles?"

"Can we talk? Please?"

He jabbed at the treadmill controls, slowing to a stop. When he finally turned to face you, his expression was guarded. "About what? About how you ditched your own brother's championship celebration to comfort your boyfriend? Because he finished P4?" He grabbed his towel, wiping his face roughly. "Real nice, sister."

"That's not fair and you know it."

"Kelly already gave me the whole speech last night, you know," he said, "Something about 'understanding love' and 'being supportive' and how she'd do the same for me."

"And?"

"And I told her she's supposed to be on my side," he said, but there was less heat in his voice than before. "She just laughed at me."

You sat down on a nearby bench, and after a moment, he joined you. "I'm still mad," he admitted. "And it's still weird as hell that my sister is dating Charles bloody Leclerc of all people."

"Could be worse," you tried. "Could've been Lewis."

"Don't even joke about that," he groaned, but you caught the tiny smile he tried to hide. His face turned serious again. "Kelly made some good points though. About how she'd choose to be with me if I was struggling after a race, even if it meant missing something important. Still doesn't mean I like it."

"I really am sorry about disappearing like that."

"I wanted my sister there," Max's voice cracked slightly. "You've been there for every important moment in my career. Every single one. Until yesterday. It's like ever since you started dating him, I'm losing my little sister bit by bit."

"You're not losing me, Max. You're my brother, nothing will ever change that. But Charles...I love him."

Max was quiet for a long moment. "You really love him that much? It's that serious?"

"Yeah," you whispered. "It is."

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I still don't like it. And I'm still mad about yesterday." He paused, then added grudgingly, "But I guess I need to get used to sharing you. Just... don't disappear on me like that again, okay? I had to listen to Helmut asking if you were sick or something. Do you know how awkward it was explaining that my sister was too busy consoling a Ferrari driver to celebrate with us?"

"Did you actually tell him that?"

"No, I told him you had a headache. You're welcome, by the way." He paused. "But seriously, YN. I get that you love him or whatever—" he made a face at the words, "—but you're still my sister."

"And you're still my annoying big brother," you leaned against his shoulder. "So... fourth championship, huh? Getting a bit boring now, isn't it?"

"Never," he grinned, then added more seriously, "Would've been better with you there though."

"I'll make it up to you. Plus, there's still family dinner tonight."

"Yeah, about that..." Max's expression turned mischievous. "I might have told Mom to make that really spicy Indonesian dish Charles couldn't handle last time."

"Max!"

"What? If he's going to be family, he needs to build up his tolerance," he said innocently. "Besides, it's payback for making me miss my sister at my championship celebration."

"You're impossible."

"Yeah, but I'm a four-time world champion impossible brother," he smirked, pulling you into a headlock like when you were kids. "And don't you forget it."

[pierregazly]

i know places ꨄ charles leclerc smau

charles leclerc x fem!reader

or 4 times charles soft launched you, and the one time he hard launched you so hard it almost caused whiplash

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, arthur_leclerc, joris__trouche, and 430,230 others

charles_leclerc happy summer break 😁

view all 3,400 comments

username ummm???

username that last photo im gonna throw up i never want him to post a photo dump again

username what about OUR family charles? ME, your wife? OUR imaginary kids?

joris__trouche i hope you paid your photographer

charles_leclerc she said it was a free trial

username there's literally no way charles 'i am stupid' leclerc knows how to soft launch this has to be a joke

username i hope this brings ferrari such awful luck... no man who soft launches like this deserves happiness

charles_leclerc

liked by arthur_leclerc, yourusername, landonorris, and 320,540 others

charles_leclerc new song releasing at midnight tonight on all platforms, we hope you'll like it 🎶

view all 2,340 comments

username i cant wait to be depressed for the rest of the week thank u charles

username im sorry... WE? who is WE?

username omg... is this a piano duet... between charles and his girlfriend???

joris__trouche i hope you're sharing the royalties

charles_leclerc nosy man

username the fact he's giving us literal crumbs like we have NOTHING to go off of

username he's just smarter than the rest of us, not letting us creep his girl

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, mickschumacher, yourusername, and 650,392 others

charles_leclerc what an incredible weekend in singapore. honoured to have had all the people i love with me this weekend for this win. i can never do this without you.

view all 5,321 comments

username do u think he put 'i can never do this without you' in a whole different sentence because it's directed at HER

username idk if i should call u delulu or smart bc 👀

username i am so fed up with this soft launch, stop being a coward and show her to us!!!

username comments like these are prolly why he's only soft launching... he doesn't want crazy fans to pull what they did with lando and luisa lol

pierregasly je suppose que ton porte-bonheur fait son travail 👀

charles_leclerc 🥰😁

charles_leclerc

liked by joris__trouche, pierregasly, landonorris and 692,941 others

charles_leclerc an extra special christmas, with an extra special person. joyeux noël to you all, may santa spoil you as much as he has spoiled me 🎅🏻

view all 4,523 comments

pierregasly joyeux noël from kika and i, looking forward to spending time with the both of you in the new year 🥂

joris__trouche impressive that this soft launch is still going, only ever seen you this dedicated about cars

username not joris saying exactly what we all have been thinking

username i cant believe no one has found her on anything

username charles hasn't given us anything to go off of, its like he's trying to make it difficult to find her

username omg y'all it HAS to be yourusername her story is them literally kissing!!!! im gonna scream!!!!!!

username she's followed by half the grid!!! kika has liked all her post over the last 2 YEARS omg

yourusername has posted a story

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, username, and 434 others

replies

charles_leclerc honoured to have been the one to kiss you for the last three christmases, hoping for hundreds more

charles_leclerc

tagged yourusername

liked by pierregasly, yourusername, arthur_leclerc, and 1,235,029 others

charles_leclerc apparently i forgot to introduce the world to my beautiful wife? joyeux anniversaire mon amour 💗

view all 6,421 comments

username your WHAT

username his WIFE?!

username there is no way mr 'i am stupid' has hidden a whole WIFE and a whole MARRIAGE from us

pierregasly merde i am so excited to finally post the photos from your wedding

yourusername honoured to have spent the last year as mrs. charles leclerc, hoping for so many more

charles_leclerc hoping for forever

username MRS CHARLES LECLERC PLS IM KSFJHK

username i am screaming and throwing up, not even crying i cant even be heartbroken????

landonorris emotionally im not okay

yourusername you were at the wedding??? landonorris i love love, shut up.

if you've already seen this i apologize lol, i think there was some formatting issues with the prev post which resulted in it not showing up in the tags :( so total apologies for that! i hope you enjoy!! (i dont want to retag everyone and be annoying as well) if you'd like to be added to my tag list please feel free to reach out

also my requests are open if you're interested!

[leclercss]

Paris, je t'aime (Charles Leclerc), Part 3

Masterlist

plot: it's almost three years since your tumultuous relationships with Lewis and Charles came crashing down. but you find your self in a new city with new beginnings and new ways to fuck up your love life. that's no thanks to a cheeky frenchman who's set you up on a double date with someone oh so familiar.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating, violence and some swearing

authors note: part trois, enjoy. i have been awol, i'm sorry. i literally wrote this and accidentally deleted my draft. fml. this chapter is going to focus on Charles' perspective of the break up. it may explain a lot of his feelings, i hope you enjoy

word count: 5.2k

taglist: @toppersjeep @janeholt3, @princess-siba, @nichmeddar, @tremendousandsonorouswords, @cmleitora, @victoriaholland, @amalialeclerc, @queensofshinigamis, @tempo-rary-fix, @starmanv, @happylittlereader, @trouble-sistar, @lightdragonrayne, @persephonemv1, @dreamingofautopia

*Charles POV*

As the sun peaks through the curtains and hits my face, I find myself rolling over in bed. It's been three years since we've shared a bed, but it's almost instinct for arm to reach out to [Y/N] and for me to wrap around her body. Only this time, my arm finds itself falling onto the mattress.

Confused, I open my eyes to find that the space in the bed beside me is no longer occupied. She's no longer in the bed and all that Charles is left with is the scent of her perfume that has lingered onto the sheets and a small piece of paper with some writing.

I pick up the note in my hand, feeling dread that [Y/N] found yesterday all a little bit too much and she's decided that she doesn't want to see me any more.

’ I promise I’m not running away this time, I just think that we both deserve the chance for a clear head in the morning.

I’m so grateful that I got the chance to see you again.

Amour xxx ’

A small sense of reliefs courses its way through my body but I don't feel any better at the fact that she's no longer in the bed beside me. I don't want a clear head because how is that possible? Because as I fell asleep, last night, with [Y/N] in my arms, all I could think about is how much of the last three years of my life had been a lie. But it wasn't a lie, because the last time I saw her almost feels like yesterday, and I remember it so well.

*3 years ago*

“Lewis is moving to New York," [Y/N] blurts out.

"He's moving to New York?" I ask. My eyebrows furrow at her comment, it wasn't what I was expecting [Y/N] to say, after all I had just suggested that maybe we find our own place in the near future. But hey, if Lewis wants to move to another continent, this was even better in my eyes. Hell, I'd even be willing to drive him to the airport if it meant that he could get out of our lives quicker.

No more hidden moments, no more sneaking around. We could just be us. We're good together and sure, it's been an unconventional journey, but I know that [Y/N] is worth it.

I'm still staring down at [Y/N] as she looks up at me before nodding. I can't help but smile down at her and take her hand in mine. We've had many intimate moments together, but what we've just shared has felt the most raw yet.

Fuck, I wanted her to choke me, I've never felt this crazy in love with a woman before. I'd cut my heart open for her.

"That's good, right?"

I notice [Y/N] gulp before she answers, "He's moving in a few weeks".

I nod. That's not too bad. It's not ideal for her living situation but we can and will figure this out.

"Okay, well if you need somewhere to stay, you can always stay here. We'll figure it out, okay? We'll get somewhere of our own if you want? But the important thing is, we can be together".

'Charles..."

"What’s wrong, amour?"

I try to ignore the shiver that runs through by body, ignoring all the red flags being waves, as [Y/N] lets out a sigh before closing her eyes. Okay, maybe moving in together is a little bit too much to ask but shouldn't she be happier that she's finally ending her sham of a marriage?

I'm still looking down at [Y/N] as I'm trying to figure out what's going on her head. Her hand is still in mine but it's now limp, lifeless. I thought she would be happier than this but maybe the ending of her marriage is much more complex than I thought. Maybe she's actually going to miss this guy? Is she sad that it's ending? Surely not, right?

"I... I ... Lewis is going to New York and he wants me to go with him".

Silence falls between the two of us as I've tried to process what [Y/N] just told me. My ears begin to ring and I'm questioning if what I've heard is actually real.

"And you told him no, right?" I ask. I almost feel stupid asking her this because to me, the answer is so obvious. But a few moments have now passed and the longer that she lays there, her limp hand in mine, the more nervous I become. I notice her chest to begin rising and falling. Rising and falling. It's getting quicker by each second and I'm not so sure about anything any more.

She looks guilty and nervous. Why hasn't she answered me yet?

"Amour, you told him no, right?" Charles asks again, this time there's a desperate tone to my voice. "I mean, you're not wearing your rings?"

But there's nothing that is coming from [Y/N]'s mouth and I almost feel like I'm having an outer body experience. She's seriously going to go? After everything?

I think I'm going to throw up.

But I love her, how could she...

No fuck this. Fuck this entirely. Fuck him and you know what, fuck her!

She still hasn't had the balls to answer me, sitting there, looking all innocent and shell shocked. She's just let me make love to her, let me bare my soul and show her my most intimate desires only to tell me that she's not only ending things with me but she's moving. Moving to New York of all places and with him? The man who has not only attempted to humiliate me on many ocassions, but has humiliated her for years.

The longer I look at her, the more I feel my heart breaking but also, the angrier I become. How could she do this to me, to us?

She's probably seeing every expression on my face that I'm experiencing. I'm not trying to hide it. Anger, confusion, heartbreak, regret, despair. But she's not reacting to any of it.

Surely this is a joke or else I'm the fucking joke? How could I have been so stupid?

My brain can't keep up with my body because before I can even realise it, I throw myself out from under the duvet cover. A couple of her discarded clothes lay in a pool by my feet as I swing them out of the bed. Picking them up, I throw them towards her on the bed behind me.

She still says nothing.

"You've got some fucking nerve, you know that right?" I spit as I begin to charge around the room, finding any of her belongings that I can and throwing them in her direction.

"Excuse me?"

My head snaps around in the direction of the bed, almost instinctively, as I try not to laugh at the surprise in her voice. Our eyes make contact and she flinches at the anger so prominent on my face.

"You're kidding me, right?"

But she's not joking. No, she still has this innocent look on her face, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I don’t understand," she mutters.

I scoff as I continue to pace around the room, not being able to listen to this any more.

"I get it, [Y/N]," he growls. [Y/N] flinches at my tone, cowering further under the duvet. "You got your wish. You finally got your husband to notice that you exist and for him to pretend like he even cares about you. He's finally going to stop fucking other girls for you. Congratulations. I'm really happy for you."

"No, you've misunderstood," [Y/N] pleads but I dismiss her.

"You know, if you wanted me to just fuck you once as revenge for your husband, I would have been more than happy to. But this sick game you've played, making me fall in love with you. I don't know how you can look at yourself in the mirror," I continue, spit almost spraying out of my mouth from the anger.

I didn't even notice [Y/N] climb out of the bed until I feel her hand gently on my arm.

"Charles, it's not like that. I'm not," she begins but she stops once I pull my arm away from her.

"Get off me," I mumble but she ignores me. Her hand finds it's way onto my arm once again.

"Charles, listen to me," she squeals but it's no use, I have no capacity for her excuses or lies any more.

"I said get off me," I growl, this time a little louder and she takes the blatant hint but she won't stop talking.

"Charles, you've got it all wrong".

I turn around to face her as my eyes bore through her skin with nothing but anger and hatred. Venom is brewing inside of me as she looks up at me with tearful eyes. A couple have spilled over onto her cheeks. Looking at her like this, it breaks me. It fucking hurts but all I can think about is what she's put me through and I have to push my sympathy aside.

"No, [Y/N], the only thing I've gotten wrong is trusting you. You know what, you and Lewis are made for each other. Users, liars and cheaters, that's what you are".

I think I've gone too far. Shit, that was too far but as I watch her burst into tears and try to grab onto me, pleading with me to stop and that it's all a big mistake, I know I can't take it back now.

I don't want to do this what I do next, but I can't stop myself.

"My friends were right about you," it's the first time since she's broken the news that she's moving to New York where there hasn't been anger in my voice. I almost find myself wincing at the look on [Y/N]'s face as my words cut her deeply. I've hit an insecurity of hers. My friends never trusted her. How could I ever trust someone so open to cheating on their husband? They thought I was a moron. They'd always questioned her story, was this entire story of Lewis being a cheating asshole even real? Was it just her excuse for me to so willingly sleep with her?

Honestly, I don't know. I don't even know what's really any more.

She sniffles, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "You really think that, Charles?"

No, I don't.

"I think... I think you should leave".

It takes her a moment before she nods. Picking the clothes up from the bed, that I'd thrown at her, she begins to put them onto her body which is now trembling.

Part of me is telling me that I'm being stupid, that it's all a mistake. I can't bare to watch her get ready and leave, almost accepting defeat.

I take one last look at her before leaving my bedroom and making my way to the living room. I won't watch her walk out of that door, because if I do, I think I'll try to stop her.

As I wait on the sofa, staring at the wall opposite me, I feel like I can hear my heart breaking into pieces, one by one. And it's only when I heard the front door close, that they all finally shatter at once.

*Present Day*

I can't tell you how many times I had thought about this day over the last three years. At least once a day. No word of a lie. My final moments with [Y/N] infiltrated every part of my life. Every time I went to bed, I had thought about her and her betrayal. Almost every day that I woke up, I felt the weight on my chest from the memory of her tears on that very day. She even appeared in my dreams, where that day never happened and went on to live our happily ever after. And more often than that, she appeared in my nightmares.

My mind was constantly taunting me and it didn't help that my best friends kept reminding me of my many mistakes and my poor errors in judgement but worst of all, how shitty of a person they had thought [Y/N] was. And while I wanted to agree with them, deep down I felt like this all had to be a lie. Because after everything that we had gone through, surely she couldn't have been faking it.

But when one day, a few months later, when Joris came home from a date with Whitney, he almost couldn't wipe the smile off his face. He had news to share.

"You don't have to worry about her any more," he told me, "she's gone now."

I tried to ignore the pain that I felt in my chest. I couldn't show Joris any more how badly this affected me. He'd been going ballistic at me for weeks already. "She moved then?"

"Yeah, Whitney said she went last Friday," Joris could hardly contain his happiness. "It's about time. Now you can move on and forget about her."

I nod as if I'm I'm agreeing with the idea of moving on. And I try, but it's just not enough because everything in London reminds me of her. I feel suffocated here and so I spend a few weeks back home in Monaco, but my mother senses that something is wrong and wants to get to the bottom of my moodiness and so I decide that maybe being back in Monaco won't give me the peace that I need right now.

But then, out of the blue, an old childhood friend on mine, Pierre, messages to say he'll be in Monaco that weekend and we meet up. Pierre felt like a guardian angel at the time, not that I would ever tell him that, but spending a weekend in Monaco with him felt refreshing to spend some time with someone who wasn't his family, wasn't his friends back in London or anyone who had some sort of connection to [Y/N].

And after not seeing each other for years, Pierre and I kept in touch, which ultimately led me to move to Paris. I thought it would help you know, make me forget about her.

In some ways it helped, I no longer had nightmares about her. I still often fell asleep to the thought of her, and I still woke up thinking about her. My chest began to feel less heavy as time passed. And it almost began to feel like she wasn't real any more because she was no longer in the same country or even on the same continent.

She was gone, and she was never coming back to me.

The only time she had ever felt real was when I was sleeping with other girls. I went on some kind of sex rampage when I moved to Paris, finding any girl possible to occupy my mind and body with but clearly it wasn't working. As I fucked them, I sometimes imagined that they were her, and that it was her that was in my arms again, it was her that was trembling and moaning beneath me. But it wasn't her, it was never her.

Until now.

I've never really believed in fate, but I'm finally starting to believe that it's a funny thing. I will never forget the feeling I had felt when Pierre had shown me her picture. Out of all the three billion women in the world, he'd set me up with my ex, if I could even call her that.

And it felt like my time had come, for redemption, for revenge and for some answers. Because now, after all this time, she's real again. She's in Paris and she's here. It was time.

But now, after last night, I'm beginning to question everything, because every part of my life for the last three years has been a total lie.

[Y/N] had never betrayed me and I don't know how to feel about it all.

My running thoughts are interrupted by my phone pinging on the beside table. I take a moment to stretch out before rolling over to see the message that's on my phone.

"So did you fuck or not?'

I can't help but laugh at Pierre's message.

"Morning to you too"

"Morning, did you fuck or not?'

'I don't kiss and tell, Pierre".

'Liar! So you fucked then. Congratulations'

Before I can even respond, Pierre texts again.

'Jokes aside, what do you think? Do you want to see her again?'

[miscellaneoustofu]

Basketball bad boys, anyone?

Yeah, so these are my Kirisaki Daiichi redesigns. The uncrowned kings and their respective squads have all the fun potential and I intend to use it.

Kirisaki Daiichi and Hanamiya being the most slept on team for character design of them all because you can’t make a canonical “bad boy” team and not have them be emo, goth, and punk for the funsies. For the visual “pen egg chest qua” (je ne sais quoi). For the fun, stereotypical edgelord flair we all deserve to indulge in every now and then.

Makoto’s og design simply didn’t scream spider enough for me and I was tired of so many key characters having this longish, same shade of black hair (him, Himuro, Mibuchi, etc). Like, I know giving the black and brown a colored tint can subtract from the uniqueness of the GOM, but not even a little? So, yeah, fuck allat, I’m using desaturated colors every now and then.

I also loved drawing Makoto in some casual clothes and much needed drip. Villains are required to serve most. I wanted to draw the rest of them in some casual outfits because trust Kojiro and honestly all of them dress immaculately but life and time restraints. Maybe later.

Story wise, each player and Makoto maybe have their own reasons for turning to hurting others through basketball and I hope you catch some of the story threads I threw in. Whether or not they deserve or have the capacity to change is entirely up to you all with Makoto having the most potential to be entirely complex or cartoonishly evil (I like both). I’m a sucker for a bit of character complexity and things that leave room for interpretation.

Sometimes knb can be very black and white in its themes…

Well, let me know what you all think! Thank you, for everyone’s kind words and support. See ya!

[queenofspades6]

Greatest Investment | Kaz Brekker x reader

Summary: You eavesdrop on Kaz and Inej, you watched as they get closer, and well, it doesn’t go as planned…

Based on this request I received:

”Hiii! I haven't watched the second season yet, but I saw a Gif of a kiss (or almost kiss) between Kaz and Inej, and I was wondering if you would write about the reader having feelings for Kaz since they met, but she doesn't have the courage to talk, so at some point in the day she goes to check if Kaz needs anything and ends up witnessing the kiss (or almost kiss) between Kaz and Inej, and the reader feels like the silliest person in the world after that.”

Warnings: Angst. (Sorry…)

A/N: Hi! I hope you’ll enjoy what I wrote, I took some liberties since I was so inspired by the request!! I love some good angst! Did I use again in a Kaz Brekker fic title the word ‘investment’? Oops…I think meeting Freddy and Amita made me that way! They are so incredible!

———

Being Ketterdam’s most famous assassin wasn’t an easy life. You were one of Kaz Brekker’s Crows, always here if needed. Since you were part of the Crows, there was something unspoken between Kaz and you. There was some sort of tension from the beginning, even Nina and Jesper had noticed.

”How is the most beautiful woman in Ketterdam doing?“ Jesper asked, taking place to the bar counter next to you.

You rolled your eyes and repressed a grin.

“What do you want, Jesper?“

“Can’t I just compliment you without needing a reason?”

You stared at him meticulously, but Jesper couldn’t look back. Interesting. He needed to ask you something then...

“Fine! Fine! I need your help.“

You sighed but smiled.

”What? It’s not my fault, Y/N, if you give good advice! Don’t blame me!”

”Jesper, what do you need me for?“ You questioned, taking a sip at your drink.

“You see...“

Jesper was trying to avoid your gaze.

”Jesper. My patience has its limits.”

“Alright! Fine! I want to prepare a date for Wylan and I need your help.” He spitted, playing with his gun on his hand.

You nodded.

”I’ll help you. What do you need me for?“

”I don’t know what to plan. Maybe something he’ll like.”

You laughed, thinking about your previous conversation with Wylan about a sweet and wonderful place you both wanted to go to escape for once the cold streets of Ketterdam.

“Jes. You know what? Bring him to Butterfly’s Heaven, you declared, a smile already drawing on your lips at the thought, it’s a greenhouse where all the species of butterfly can fly freely. There’s also an endearing cafe there to drink something while watching the butterflies.” You replied, stars already dancing in your eyes thinking about all the marvelous butterflies.

“Do you think Wylan will love it?”

”Definitely! We talked about it all week, and he was desperate to go. You should bring him. He’ll love it. And buy him a stuffed toy, he’ll marry you right after.”

Jesper was smiling at the thought of Wylan asking his hand in marriage.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“You and Wylan deserve to be happy.“

“What if it’s not enough, Y/N? What if I am not enough?” He opened up, not caring if he was vulnerable in front of you.

“You are enough, Jesper, you always have.”

You looked at him and smiled, hoping one day you’ll find someone that will care for you as much as Jesper wants Wylan.

“Wylan thinks you are enough, he loves you, Jes. And even Kaz knows it, even if he won’t ever admit it.”

You took another sip of the whisky in front of you and heard someone giggling.

”Hi Y/N!”

Wylan was embracing Jesper with his hands around his shoulders.

“Hi you.” Wylan said to Jesper.

Jesper didn’t even reply and kissed him tenderly as if he were the most precious thing in the world. And at that moment, you swore he were. They broke the kiss, and Wylan blinked several times as if to recover from the intensity of the kiss. It warmed your heart, even if you said nothing.

“What were you talking about?” Wylan asked, coming back to his senses.

Jesper almost jumped off his seat.

”We were talking about Y/N’s feelings for Kaz!“ Jesper answered spontaneously, too scared to reveal what he had planned.

”What? We were?” You almost spitted your drink on the counter of the bar. Now you were facing Jesper and Wylan. How dare he expose you like that?

”Oh seems interesting.” Wylan said, waiting for you to say more.

“There’s nothing between me and Kaz.”

Wylan looked at you wide-eyed, and Jesper sighed, before saying:

”Lie, Y/N. Haven’t you noticed how Kaz always checks on you after a heist, how you always have dresses, jewels, food, everything you want given to you for nothing in shops, you think it’s because of your fine looks? No. Even if you’re beautiful, Y/N, no offense! It’s Kaz’s doing. He made me went with him to each shop, each café, each place in Ketterdam you would want to go to pay, or should I say ‘bribe’ them for you to always have what’s best, no matter the cost.”

”That’s not true, that’s-”

”And what about this time you almost died, and he stayed at your bed an entire week, ordering every Dreg not to disturb him, and how you always have your tea and waffles ready for you every morning? Even Nina is jealous!” He confessed.

”I thought it was you or Wylan who was making me breakfast every morning!”

”It’s not.“ He muttered.

”He’s right, Y/N.” Wylan nodded. ”Even Nina told me last time about how his heartbeat jumped when you are in the same place, and how irritating it was for her to feel both of your heartbeats jumping when you’re together.”

“You should tell him how you feel, Y/N. You are the one who encouraged me to be with Wylan, because life is short, and in Ketterdam, death is always near. He cares about you, more than he’ll ever admit.”

”I don’t have feelings for Kaz fucking Brekker!” You almost screamed and avoided Wylan and Jesper’s gazes.

You took your glass of whisky and finished it all. The feeling of alcohol burning your throat almost soothed you.

”You do.” Jesper smiled and teased you.

”No, I don’t!”

Wylan rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’stuborness.

”Y/N! There you are, I thought you were with Kaz!”

You jumped off your seat. Fortunately for you, it was only Nina and not Dirtyhands himself.

”Nina, you scared the hell out of me.”

She grinned as if she had planned it all along.

”What are the three of you up to?“ She questioned, eyebrows raised.

"We are talking about Y/N’s feelings for Kaz.” Wylan answered before you could even speak.

”Not you too, Wylan!”

He smirked, almost shyly, and even if you wanted to blame him, you couldn’t blame his cute silly face.

”Hmmm, you and Waffles are not so discreet with your feelings.”

You sighed and tried to ignore Nina’s voice. You knew that if you listened to them, you would probably end up in Kaz’s office confessing your feelings for him, because on some missions, it became unbearable. The need to protect him, to check on him, how he could make you feel powerful and useless at the same time.

“Y/N. Heartbeats don’t lie.” Nina whispered to you, and you were sure Wylan and Jesper would not hear.

”Stop Nina. I- I- He’s not in love with me. Kaz Brekker can’t be in love. Love is a weakness, and I am only his latest investment.” You repeated, only to convince yourself of it.

“So how do you explain how his heartbeat go faster when you’re here, how I can feel his heart trying to get out of his chest when you’re injured. He cares. He tries to hide it, but the heart doesn’t lie. Never.”

You looked at her blue ocean eyes, and she caressed your shoulder in encouragement.

”Try to tell him, try to tell him you care, if only that. Love is a fragile thing, cherish it while it lasts.”

You swore you saw an ounce of sadness and regret flashing in her eyes as she remembered Matthias.

“I think you can help him with his past.” Nina muttered.

You looked at your empty glass, and noticed how your hands were trembling. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was time for you to tell him, that at least you cared for him. More than him being just your Boss.

You stood up, levelled up your chin, and took several steps towards Kaz’s office.

You were Ketterdam’s most notorious assassin, and you would not be afraid.*

You advanced towards the door slowly, you wanted to knock but the door was already ajar.

You could do it, you had done so much worse. You took a deep breath before-

You heard voices in his office. You heard him first, talking with a female voice, a voice you didn’t not recogn-

it was Inej’s.

Kaz and Inej were in his office talking. Your instinct was screaming at you to leave and come back later, but curiosity got the better of you.

You stayed, you tried to understand what they were saying, but you couldn’t. Slowly the most slowly possible you pushed the door and waited. Kaz and Inej were still talking, you took it as a sign they didn’t hear your presence. You weren’t Ketterdam’s best assassin for nothing. You took a silent step and looked at Kaz’s office.

You didn’t expect what you saw.

Kaz and Inej were close, too close for your liking, dangerously close. Too close that any of them could bear. So how was it they were here, almost touching each other. You swore Kaz could feel Inej’s breathing on his chin.

Watching them so close together made your heart beating faster. You wanted to scream but no sound came. No explanation came to your mind. Why was Inej here? You tried to focus on the words you heard, but none of them made sense. You were near but you couldn’t hear them clearly, it was as if your brain didn’t want you to eavesdrop. You heard some words like ‘crows’ and ‘family’.

You pushed the door again, without a sound. You leaned on the door and focused on the voices.

“Inej.”

You heard Kaz’s voice as it broke, and you needed to take a glimpse at what was going on right now. You took a deep breath and looked at them. Kaz’s gloved hand was on Inej’s shoulder. They were staring at each other like nothing else mattered in the entire world. Even if you were not close, you could decipher Inej’s surprise at Kaz’s sudden touch.

”Let me go, Kaz.”

Kaz removed his hand, and an ounce of sadness and rejection passed on his face.

“We need you, here.“

You watched as Inej shooked her head.

“Stay, Inej. Stay. Please.”

Her name sounded as a prayer in Kaz’s lips.

”I can’t, Kaz, and you know why.“ She whispered.

“We need you, Inej, please. We- I... I need you.“

Without noticing, Kaz caught Inej’s arm with his gloved hand, preventing her from leaving.

You couldn’t see them clearly; the door was blocking your path. You tried to lean on a bit further but failed miserably. Why did you push your luck? Your whole body had been trembling the whole time, even with the multiple tries to steady your heartbeat and calm yourself. The door opened slightly, and your face was greeted by the floor.

All you felt was numbness, shock and realization. Kaz and Inej were staring at you in wonder. You could already feel Kaz’s grave gaze at you.

“What? Did you never see someone fall before?“ You questioned, trying to hide your discomfort.

Feeling ashamed, you stood up awkwardly and crossed Kaz’s eyes.

“Y/N.“ Kaz declared.

You nodded.

“It’s not what you think.” Inej replied immediately, trying to maintain her composure.

Kaz was leaning on his cane, and his eyes never left your form.

”Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything. I won’t tell a soul. Keep going. I am leaving right now.” You gestured to the door and fled.

”Y/N, wait.“ Kaz said.

You ran through the Crow Club, not caring what the Dregs thought.

”Y/N!” Jesper screamed, hoping to catch your attention.

Why were you running?

Kaz followed after you, even if his leg hurt. He tried to, but you were too fast for him. After all, you were an assassin. A clumsy one at that...

You didn’t care. You ran until your lungs couldn’t bear the feeling, until your knees broke under the weight of your exhausted body. But where could you go in Ketterdam? A place where no Dreg could ever find you.

You knew the perfect place.

Months ago the Crows had gone on an heist with your help. The goal was simple, Kaz had said: ‘we enter, we take the painting, and we leave unnoticed’. He had insisted on the word ‘unnoticed’ looking specifically at Jesper. You had agreed to help them steal the damn painting if it pleases them. Truth be told you couldn’t say no to more Kruge. When you entered the grim manor Kaz had depicted, you noticed how silent and peaceful it was. No soul lived here. Was it the place where the painting was hidden? Maybe Kaz had made a mistake. But he had confirmed it was here. The manor was abandoned long ago by a duke trying to escape his demons. That’s all Kaz had told you, and you hadn’t asked for more at the time. Now you wished you had, because you were headed towards the old manor. A place where just the ghosts could disturb you. Ghosts were better than men, right? Better than some Bastard of the Barrel.

It could be the only place where you could scream and cry without someone noticing Ketterdam’s best assassin being vulnerable. Sometimes being the greatest assassin was a weakness, a weakness you couldn’t afford. It meant never showing too much emotion, never crying in front of your enemies... Wait. Was Kaz your enemy?

You didn’t know anymore. Falling in love was a weakness. Something not allowed in the dangerous streets of Ketterdam, a feeling that would destroy everything if not careful. In fact, love was a weapon, and if not used with parsimony and care, it could kill you.

You broke in the manor, remembering the precise path you used last time and found the closest room, the one you had discovered and found surprisingly pleasing. And strangely peaceful.

You closed the door, and sat on the floor, your body curled up, hands around your knees. You tried to forget the memories with the Crows and Kaz, but it was too much. You remembered your times with Jesper talking about guns, the hours eating waffles and ice cream with Nina, the walks with Wylan, the looks of approval coming from Matthias, and this cane... The cane you would never forget, even if you wanted to. You remembered the day when you had ended up wounded after eliminating a slaver. You were injured, sitting on the cold pavement. You were trying to catch your breath before escaping, but you had felt a soft but firm tap on your thigh. And without looking, you knew who it belonged to.

It was the Bastard of the Barrel.

He wanted you to think he was invisible, and unpredictable, but what he didn’t know was that long before killing the man, you knew Dirtyhands had followed you.

“Enjoyed the show, didn’t you?” You had questioned, showing your white teeth that must have been covered in blood.

That was the day when he had asked you to join the Crows, and since you had nothing more to do, you had accepted, already thinking about the free drinks you would benefit at the Crow Club.

You also remembered the day when you had wanted to leave the Crows because of some decision Kaz had made. You were angry and had prepared everything to leave in the morning. However, Kaz had watched you wrapping your clothes with a spectacular meticulousness, and had whispered:

“Stay. Stay in Ketterdam. Stay with me, Y/N.”

And you had stayed. Of course. When Dirtyhands asked you to stay, you stay. The morning he had woken up at dawn in case you wanted to leave without saying goodbye. He had found you in your usual attire, your knives and guns on your waist.

“You did not leave?”

He had asked, almost as a prayer.

”No. Something keeps me in Ketterdam.”

Kaz had said nothing, but you swore you had seen a grin on his lips this day.

You also remembered the day when you had been badly injured to save Nina from a fatal injury. You had been severely hurt; you weren’t even able to stand up. You remember watching the pitiful looks of the Crows at your broken body sprawled on the ground. Deep down you knew you were now a liability for the Crows, and especially for Kaz, so you had told them to leave you here, and escape before the men you had stolen from were back. You knew the risks and costs of each heist, and already accepted your fate.

Kaz had none of it. He had ordered Matthias to carry you, while Nina would tend to your wound as much as she could and control your heartbeat. Jesper would protect your backs, while Inej was sent to scan the path, and look for any danger. You would never forget the look Kaz had given you when he told you to rest for months if needed and had given you a room close to his own in the Crow Club.

Later, you had asked him why he had saved you instead of leaving you to perish. He had said with conviction:

”We are Crows, Y/N, we never leave our own behind.”

That was all of his qualities and flaws that made you love Kaz Brekker. He was broken, but you had always been a sucker for broken things to tend to. You had offered him everything an assassin could possess: your loyalty, your weapons, your ability to kill, and your heart, ready for the taking...

But now you remembered the sentence Dirtyhands had told you a week ago, telling you all you had to know about what you were to him, and what you could be.

”You’re my greatest investment, Y/N. Don’t fail me. “

He had told you once what you were to him, but you hadn’t listened, you had fallen in love, and now you knew. You knew you had always been an expensive investment, but only that, nothing more.

You had been his greatest investment, and that was all...

———-

Tell me what you thought about this one! I am seriously considering writing a part 2! Likes, shares and comments are appreciated, it makes my day, I really need it!

———

If you liked this fanfiction, you’ll love this one, it also has the word ‘investment’ in the title like this one:

⬇️ ⬇️

[dirtyvulture]

Natasha Romanoff x Male!Witcher!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Requested by Yuni on Ao3: (Translated from French on Google translate, original request below) Hi, I really like your work and was wondering if you can do a The Witcher style male Natasha x Reader covered in scars (one of which is across his face) and tattoos, a mass of muscles and the rest as a result 😳 😅, who returns from the fight and finds Natasha. To this follows a well-deserved part of legs in the air 😆😜. Thank you if you accept, good continuation. (My apologies for so many details)

AN: I've never watched The Witcher, so thanks to @mostlymarvelsstuff for educating me lol.

Original request: Bonjour, j'aime beaucoup votre travail et je me demandais si vous pouvez faire un Natasha x Reader masculin du style The Witcher couvert de cicatrices (dont une lui barre le visage) et de tatouages, une masse de muscles et le reste en conséquences 😳😅, qui revient du combat et retrouve Natasha. À cela suit une partie de jambes en l'air bien méritée 😆😜. Merci si vous acceptez, bonne continuation. (Mes excuses pour tant de détails)

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You shove your shoulder into your door one final time that almost knocks it off its hinges as you stumble into your room. You throw your sword onto the carpet and have the urge to fall with it until you see Natasha Romanoff waiting on your bed for you.

"Nat?" you ask, fighting against the exhaustion seeping into your bones. "What are you doing here?"

"Here to congratulate you after another successful battle," she says. "I already got your bath ready for you--"

"You didn't have to." While part of you is grateful for her help, you also like to maintain your independency and don't like to be waited on very much.

"Come on," she beckons, standing up and offering her hand. You have no energy left to argue and follow her into the bathroom, where true to her word, the enormous wooden basin is filled with steaming water.

You turn around to let Natasha help you remove off your several layers of armor and clothing. Some of it is splattered with your opponents blood, some of it yours, although you had hardly been injured in the fight. Natasha's hand lingers on your chest, tracing the shell of the wolf medallion hanging around your neck. Her hand travels down your ribs, where you have a thin slash from a sword.

"Let me get you a bandage for that," she says, darting off while you stand there naked, taking a moment to admire your reflection in the mirror. The years of hunts had taken a visible toll on your body, with scars littering your torso and limbs. There is a ragged chunk of missing flesh on your left thigh and claw marks raking across your chest to your stomach. Your most prominent scar could not be easily hid with clothing because it was on your face, crossing your left eye from your forehead to your cheek. But despite the damage from an innumerable amount of fights, you were of good health and strongly built, with sculpted muscles that put most men to shame.

Natasha returns with a bandage and some ointment, but requests that you wash off the blood and dirt in the tub first. You are happy to oblige, slipping into the warm water and closing your eyes in bliss as the heat loosens your muscles.

Natasha conjures up a rag and a bar of soap, wetting both and rubbing them together until a white lather appears. You sit back and let her wash your face, arms, and chest, taking the washcloth from her to finish what's left under the water. She eyes you hungrily as you wash yourself, almost like she's jealous she doesn't get to do it herself.

"You'll get your turn," you promise as you drain the tub of the dirty water. Natasha fills a bucket to present you with clean water to rinse off with, and when you're done you stand up, dripping water onto the ground and Natasha not-so-subtly clenches her legs together.

You go back to the bedroom, allowing her to clean and bandage the cut on your side, and even after that she's still looking at you like she wants to devour you.

"Nat," you say, finally ready to give in to her.

"Hold on. Drink this." Out of nowhere, she conjures up a flask carrying a bright-red liquid and holds it out to you.

"Will this heal me?" you ask, hesitant from the potion's flashy color.

"Yes," Natasha says with a grin, "And it'll help you last longer."

It takes a moment for you to understand what she's referring to, but you eagerly down the potion, cringing at the harsh taste. It doesn't make you feel any different at first, but then a hot warmth spreads to your groin and you realize it's because Natasha's taken your cock in her hands and starts stroking you slowly.

You crawl back on the bed, spreading your legs to allow her to join you. She takes off her own multiple layers of clothing, climbing on top of you and rubbing her bare chest against yours. Her nipples are already hard and you grope her breasts roughly. She arches into you and moans, and you hike your hips up to rub your cock along her smooth thighs.

"Fuck, Y/N," she murmurs, her hands roaming your body as much as yours are on hers. Natasha loves the way your muscles shift and flex under her touch. She can practically feel the individual muscle fibers in your chest straining and popping and your thighs are rock-solid underneath hers.

Her nails dig into the curve of your biceps, trying to keep you pinned down, but of course her strength is no match for yours. You wrap your arms around her waist, flipping her over in one motion and kissing her fiercely. You feel her hands grab at your medallion, then going down your sides and gripping onto your muscular butt to guide your hips.

"Inside," she begs. "I need you."

"Not yet," you tease, rolling your hips slowly so the tip of your cock teases her entrance. But you don't think she's wet enough for you, and with your size, you don't want to hurt her by pushing in too early. Besides, it's fun to tease her.

"Please, please," she begs, widening her legs until you can see her glistening center.

You push two fingers into her and curl them against her front wall; she moans loudly and drops her head back into the pillows. Your cock hardens even more at the thought of her walls clenching around you like that. You roll your thumb over her clit a few times, pumping your fingers in and out, until her thighs are trembling and she's panting and gasping for your cock.

"Now you're ready," you announce, taking her thighs in your large hands and pressing them into the bed, holding them wide apart. You position yourself at your entrance and slide right in, moaning at the heat that clenches at you.

"Oh fuck, Nat," you grunt, overwhelmed by the urge to cum immediately, but you feel something in your stomach tighten, preventing you from release. Knowing this is the work of her potion but not sure how long it will last, you start thrusting in long, hard strokes, filling Natasha and pulling out until you see your tip wet with her juices.

"Yes, yes, just like that," Natasha moans, squirming on the bed as you hold her down and jack your hips into hers.

"You feel like perfection," you say, savoring the feeling of her silky walls dragging up and down your throbbing cock. You know when you finally get to cum, you're going to fill her to the brim.

"So do you," she says, trying to sit up and grab onto your broad shoulders to steady yourself with as the bedframe starts to shudder violently from your motions.

"When can I cum?" you ask, as if she holds that much control over you.

"After I do," she replies with a sly grin.

"Okay." You start to thrust even harder, your abs starting to burn from the effort. "Tell me when," you add, noticing her tensing up beneath you. You feel like you're ready to topple over the edge, but no matter how deeply you thrust into Natasha, you just can't reach the peak.

"I'm gonna cum!" Natasha squeaks, her nails digging into your muscles.

You don't stop thrusting even as she's gushing around you, the slickness aiding your strokes, and finally when her body stops convulsing, your cock pumps cum straight into her womb. The orgasm is so intense and sudden you think you pass out for a moment, finding yourself lying on top of Natasha in a sticky heap.

"Oh no, I am so sorry, Natasha--" you say, trying to push away from her but she locks her legs around your hips so you can't pull out.

"Stay," she says, enjoying the warmth of your body on top of her and the fullness of your cock inside her.

"As you wish," you say, in no mood to argue with her now and shifting to get comfortable.

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AN: This was fun to write! Thanks for the request!

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[stardustndreamsofsilver]

Inferum

Part Two

Jake x OC (f)

Warnings: potentially scary themes, talk of murder and desecration of human remains

Find All Parts Here

Arrête! C’est ici l’empire de la mort.

Pip led me down corridor after corridor. As we walked, I couldn’t help but notice how alone we were. We’d passed fellow visitors on our way to both the theater and Gens Beaux, but now there had been no one for what felt like hours. It didn’t help that Pip had remained almost completely silent except for the occasional, “Watch your step.” Something felt off in the silence, almost as they knew my true intentions. But I tried my best to shake it off.

I was lost in my thoughts when they said, “Just a bit further to the druids, mon cher.”

Startled by the sudden break in the silence, my heart leapt in my throat before I replied, “Perfect.”

Glancing down at my watch, I saw it was nearly ten at night. We were early. But perhaps the trek to the true destination would kill that time. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the strap of my bag, adjusting it on my now sore shoulder, and continued following Pip. It had been perhaps ten more minutes when I glanced forward and saw a figure up ahead. It looked like it was stepping out of the wall. Pip didn’t seem to pay it any mind so I tried to do the same. But as we got closer, the more the feeling of dread took over my body. The figure was perhaps two yards ahead when I noticed it was made of stone.

“What is that?” I asked, pointing at the statue.

“Oh him. He is Le Passeur. Would you like to hear his story?”

“Sure, why not?” I reply as I stare at the life-like figure.

“Le Passeur is a victim of Louis-Étienne Héricart de Thury. It is said that he and Louis’ wife, Maire Christiene I believe was her name, were having a… Ah, affaire d’amour. A little tryst. Louis found out about it and brought the poor man here. He killed him, of course. Then he cast his body in plaster and cement and mounted him to the wall so that he would always search for his way out.” Pip says gesturing to the statue.

“Are you serious?” I whisper, all color draining from my face.

“Oui, bien sûr, je suis très sérieux! Why would I lie about something like that?” They looked offended that I would even question them. “It’s brilliant, no? His punishment. To wander the catacombs for eternity,” He says, gazing admiringly at the dead man’s cast.

“Don’t you think it’s sad though? To be damned to the catacombs over an affair?” I ask.

“No, he got what he deserved,” Pip shrugs. “Now come, the druids await.” Disturbed by their nonchalance, I say nothing and just nod my head. With that, Pip turns on their heels and continues on down the tunnel. 

When we approach the room of the druids, I can see light coming from the entryway. As we enter, I notice a group of people standing in front of the mural admiring it. I’d hoped we’d be alone, but there was no harm as long as the others didn’t follow us. I adjust my headlamp and walk closer to the mural. It is absolutely beautiful. The picture of women with long flowing hair in delicate chemises dancing under the moon with crowns of lilies atop their heads. Something about the mural brings a sense of peace over me, yet it is the kind of peace that is teetering between a lasting one and one that will crumpled.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it," I hear an unfamiliar American voice say.

I turn and look toward its owner when I see that it’s the man from Gens Beaux. Feeling heat rise to my cheeks, I turn back to the mural and say, “Yes, the pictures online don’t do it any justice.”

“They really don’t,” He whispers, as he stares admiring the piece. 

I sigh, taking in one last look before I dip my head at the stranger and find my way back to Pip. “Pip,” I start, “There’s somewhere else I’d like you to take me tonight. I’ll pay you whatever you want.”

Pip furrows their brow. “You wanted to see the druids, no? We are here.” Then with understanding, they take a step back raising their hands and beginning to shake their head. “Non, mon cher. I do not think that is wise.”

“I need to see them, Pip. If you will not take me, then tell me the way to them from here,” I plead.

With a heavy sigh, Pip puts their hands in their pockets and says, “Tell me why you must go.”

My breath catches and my heart pounds. “It’s personal.”

Narrowing their eyes, they say, “It is personal. You ask me to take you to your death but cannot share why?”

“You wouldn’t be taking me to my death. I can promise you that. But I cannot tell you why I have to see them,” I say firmly.

“Non,” They reply, lips in a thin line and eyes stern. They’re about to say something else when a woman comes up behind them and whispers in their ear. Turning, they whisper to the woman and they seem to be arguing. Pip is becoming frustrated when I hear them say, “Très bien, qu’il en soit ainsi!” as they throw up their hands in defeat.

“We will take you madame. You and them,” The woman says to me while pointing to the others.

This makes my stomach sink. I’d never planned for this. So few know that I hadn’t thought there would be anyone else.

“They know about Les Gaules?” I ask, not quite believing.

“Oui, ils le savent,” She replies.

“Ils sont au courant de tout?” I question.

She tilts her head and shrugs, “Est-ce important?”

Shaking my head, I glance over to the others. They’re laughing and joking amongst themselves. They shouldn’t be coming, but I can’t help but feel that there is nothing I can say to dissuade them. Looking back at the woman I nod and say, “Okay.”

She nods and claps her hands. “Everyone! Gather here, s’il vous plaît!” The others walk over and wait for her to continue. “We will be traveling to Les Gaules together. Pip and Addey have agreed to this. But, you must do everything we say. If we tell you to be quiet and not breathe, you are silent and hold your breath, oui?” We look amongst ourselves and nod in agreement. “Magnifique! Come, we go.”

“So you’ll be joining us to see the ritual then?” The longhaired stranger asks.

“I suppose so.” I sigh.

“Nice to have you with us,” He grins before sticking out his hand. “I’m Jake.” 

I take his hand and can’t help but smile as I shake it. “Addey.”

As he lets go of my hand, we both move to follow Pip and the other guide. Nearly bumping into one another, Jake takes a step back and gestures for me to go first. I smile and do so. As I walk ahead, I can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. There’s no way he, or the rest of them know what we’re walking into. If they did, they wouldn’t be so at ease.

I try to shake the feeling of guilt and dread, and continue on through the halls of the dead.

taglist: @peaceloveunitygvf, @edgingthedarkness, @jakekiszkashangnail08, @writingcold, @vanfleeter, @gretavanfleetposts, @katuschka, @thewritingbeforesunrise, @wrldabomination, @lipstickitty, @takenbythemadness

[aliveandfullofjoy]

Happy new year! If you're following me, you know that I watch too many movies. You also probably know that I love acting. A truly great performance feels, to me, like a magic trick. Of the movies I watched for the first time this year (excluding 2024 or 2023 releases), these are eleven of my favorite performances, in alphabetical order.

01. Ida Kamińska & Jozef Kroner, The Shop on Main Street (dir. Ján Kadár and Elmar Klos, 1965)

Kamińska received one of the coolest Oscar nominations ever with her lovely performance in this shattering Czech drama as a nearly-deaf elderly widow, but Kroner, arguably the film's true lead, deserved equal recognition for his astounding performance as the shiftless man thrown into the cogs of fascism. They play off each other beautifully, and they are both perfectly keyed into the film's tonal tightrope act. Kroner is asked to carry much of the film, including much of its comedy, and he does so effortlessly, but it falls on Kamińska to sell the sharp pivot into despair at the end. The results are gutting.

02. Anders Danielsen Lie, Oslo, August 31st (dir. Joachim Trier, 2011)

Before he turned in a key supporting performance in Trier's The Worst Person in the World, Lie delivered one of the most essential performances of the 2010s in this film. Oslo rests entirely on his shoulders, and to say he delivers is an understatement: he commands the camera's full attention, giving the viewer a fully-realized portrait of a recovering addict with just his body language. This is a brutally sad film, but that Lie is able to find some semblance in joy in the buildup to its inevitable and crushing ending feels like a miracle.

03. Margo Martindale, Paris je t'aime (dir. Alexander Payne & others, 2006)

Paris je t'aime consists of eighteen short films, each with different directors, set in various arrondissements in Paris. Some of the shorts are stinkers, but the film is a charming experience overall. The final episode stands out above the rest: Payne gives Martindale free rein to shatter your heart into a million pieces. Playing an American woman on her first trip to Europe, she describes (in amateur French) what she loves about Paris. It's Payne at his very best -- funny, mature, human -- but it sings because of Martindale's soulful performance. If he had any sense, he'd give her a feature length movie.

04. Silvia Pinal, Simon of the Desert (dir. Luis Buñuel, 1965)

I went through a miniature obsession with the Sondheim musical Here We Are this year, which got me in the mood to scratch a Buñuel itch. While it's not one of the films the musical is adapted from, Simon of the Desert shares something with Here We Are: it exists largely as a fraction of what it was once intended to be, running only 45 minutes long. Still, it's a delightful film, and the star is the late, great Pinal, whose performance as (who else?) Satan is an entertaining, anarchic riot. I need to see more of her work ASAP.

05. Brad Pitt, Burn After Reading (dir. Joel Coen & Ethan Coen, 2008)

I could throw a dozen superlatives at Pitt in Burn After Reading. It's the actor's career best. It's one of the funniest performances of the 2000s. It's the blueprint for Gosling's Ken. Every line is a perfectly orchestrated head-empty-no-thoughts symphony. The way he drinks water like a hamster? The way he laughs and says, "You think that's a Schwinn"? The way he does his victory dance? Deeply stupid. Extraordinarily funny.

06. Kurt Russell, Big Trouble in Little China (dir. John Carpenter, 1986)

Like Pitt, this is an exquisite comedic performance. Everything about Big Trouble in Little China is dialed up to eleven, from the pulpy dialogue to the over-the-top action, and it's Russell, as the over-confident himbo sidekick deeply, truly believes that he's the hero of the story, who holds the film together. Every line he says in his sorta-kinda John Wayne impression makes me scream. I had never given Russell a second thought as an actor, but this performance instantly made me a fan.

07. Chishū Ryū, An Autumn Afternoon (dir. Yasujirō Ozu, 1962)

Even among Ozu's body of work, An Autumn Afternoon stands out as painfully sad. The final fifteen minutes of this film in particular are brutal, and probably the most devastating sequence I've seen in any of his movies. It was his final film, and as they had so often before, Ozu used Ryū as his leading man. He had one of the all-time great faces in film history, capable of conveying a deep, visceral ache with just a polite smile. The sadness of the finale comes through largely because of the beauty and the simplicity of Ryū's performance.

08. Harry Dean Stanton, Paris, Texas (dir. Wim Wenders, 1984)

I'm not in the habit of ranking the performances on these lists, but if I was, Stanton would be at the top. His performance in Paris, Texas -- also one of my absolute favorite new-to-me films of the year -- filled me with that rare warmth, that feeling that I'm watching a truly singular achievement in acting. Just like Chishū Ryū, if there was a contest for best faces in film, Stanton would be a finalist. Those deep eyes, the craggy skin. His performance is a masterclass in stillness and silence (he doesn't say his first line until nearly half an hour into the movie), communicating years of regret, heartbreak, joy, and longing with just a look. His journey begins in an unbearably lonely place and ends with a bittersweet reconciliation. To describe this performance as moving is the ultimate understatement.

09. Mink Stole, Female Trouble (dir. John Waters, 1974)

It feels wrong not to highlight the legendary Divine here. Female Trouble largely operates as a star vehicle for him, and he is genuinely terrific. Amazingly, though, in the face of Divine's hurricane of a performance, Mink Stole manages to steal the film as the obnoxious Taffy Davenport. As one of the core members of Waters' Dreamlanders, her keen understanding of his tone should come as no surprise, but that doesn't make it any less thrilling to watch her embody the film's deranged camp sensibilities. It takes a great actor to find the right balance in a film like this. Make no mistake: Mink Stole is a great actor.

10. Alfre Woodard, Crooklyn (dir. Spike Lee, 1994)

It's clichéd to describe a performance as the heart of the film, especially if that performance comes from a woman playing the mother in a coming-of-age movie, but friends: I've never claimed to be above cliché. Woodard is an American treasure, and she is undeniably the heart of Crooklyn, Lee's gorgeous look back home. Going toe-to-toe with Delroy Lindo (who very nearly made this list with Woodard), Woodard does richly layered work here, by turns commanding, funny, warm, and moving. It's a nuanced, lived-in performance from one of our greatest living actors.

Other performances I loved, in alphabetical order: Jane Alexander (The Great White Hope, 1970); Taraneh Alidoosti (The Salesman, 2016); Jean Arthur (History is Made at Night, 1937); Warren Beatty (Heaven Can Wait, 1978); Humphrey Bogart (The Big Sleep, 1946); Charles Boyer (History is Made at Night, 1937); Lon Chaney (The Unknown, 1927); George Clooney (Out of Sight, 1998); Sean Connery (The Hunt for the Red October, 1990); Joan Crawford (Sudden Fear, 1952); Russell Crowe (The Insider, 1999); Robert De Niro (Midnight Run, 1988); Laura Dern (Blue Velvet, 1986); Divine (Female Trouble, 1974); Griffin Dunne (After Hours, 1985); Charles Durning (The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, 1982); Shelley Duvall (Popeye, 1980); John Goodman (Barton Fink, 1991); Elliott Gould (The Long Goodbye, 1973); Charles Grodin (Midnight Run, 1988); Dolores Hart (Where the Boys Are, 1960); Philip Seymour Hoffman (Punch-Drunk Love, 2002); Dennis Hopper (Blue Velvet, 1986); Shahab Hosseini (The Salesman, 2016); Gusti Huber (The Diary of Anne Frank, 1959); Rock Hudson (Seconds, 1966); Angelina Jolie (Girl, Interrupted, 1999); James Earl Jones (The Great White Hope, 1970); Daniel Kaluuya (Widows, 2018); Lila Kedrova (Zorba the Greek, 1964); Nicole Kidman (Eyes Wide Shut, 1999); Ben Kingsley (Sexy Beast, 2000); Nastassja Kinski (Paris, Texas, 1984); Yaphet Kotto (Midnight Run, 1988); Margaret Leighton (The Go-Between, 1971); Delroy Lindo (Crooklyn, 1994); Jennifer Lopez (Out of Sight, 1998); Walter Matthau (The Bad News Bears, 1976); Sheila McCarthy (I've Heard the Mermaids Singing, 1987); Ethel Merman (It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, 1963); Nobuko Miyamoto (The Funeral, 1984); Kati Outinen (The Match Factory Girl, 1990); Jack Palance (Sudden Fear, 1952); David Hyde Pierce (Wet Hot American Summer, 2001); Anthony Quinn (Zorba the Greek, 1964); John Randolph (Seconds, 1966); Isabella Rossellini (Blue Velvet, 1986); Isabella Rossellini (Green Porno, 2008); Hassan Sabzian (Close-Up, 1990); Adam Sandler (Punch-Drunk Love, 2002); Norma Shearer (Marie Antoinette, 1936); Ruth Sheen (High Hopes, 1988); Song Kang-ho (Memories of Murder, 2003); Kin Sugai (The Funeral, 1984); Haruko Sugimura (Morning for the Osone Family, 1946); Saïd Taghmaoui (La Haine, 1995); Gene Tierney (Leave Her to Heaven, 1945); John Turturro (Barton Fink, 1991); Charles Vanel (Wooden Crosses, 1932); Shelley Winters (The Diary of Anne Frank, 1959)

[xyywrites]

Christmas with the Crows - Six of Crows

word count : 6 k

genre/tags : fluff, angst, Christmas eve, Holidays, Found Family, Humor, Slice of Life, Heartwarming, Bittersweet, Ketterdam, Hurt/Comfort, Secret Santa, Kanej, Wesper, Helnik

warnings : teen + (violence mentions)

author's note : Merry Barrelmas! Don’t leave your secrets or your wallets unattended. Jesper probably stole both, Nina’s eating your snacks, and Kaz is judging your choices from across the room.

link for the fic : AO3 Link

The Slat had never been so festive. Jesper had insisted on decorating for the holiday, and though Kaz had begrudgingly approved the expense, he’d set a strict budget (“We’re not running a charity, Jesper. Use what’s left in the vault after you’ve stopped raiding it.”). Thus, the decorations were an eclectic mix of stolen goods, homemade crafts (thanks to Inej), and some questionable black-market purchases.

“Doesn’t this place look like a dream?” Jesper said, throwing his arms wide as strands of mismatched tinsel drooped from the beams above.

“It looks like a fire hazard,” Kaz muttered, leaning heavily on his cane.

It had been Nina’s idea to have a Secret Santa. “We deserve a little holiday spirit,” she’d declared, ignoring Kaz’s groan. “Besides, we could all use some fun.”

Names were drawn at random, with Jesper attempting to peek at everyone’s picks until Wylan slapped his hand away.

“No cheating, Jes!”

“It’s not my fault if someone’s handwriting is legible upside down.” Jesper grinned, unapologetic, as he twirled the slip of paper in his fingers like a magician revealing a card trick. “Besides, I need to know who I’m blessing with my impeccable taste.”

“Blessing us with bankruptcy, more like,” Wylan muttered, tugging the paper from Jesper’s hand before he could get a better look at the others.

Come Christmas Eve, the Dregs were gathered in the dimly lit corner of the Crow Club, the space which usually thrummed with tension was now alive with an almost foreign warmth. Beneath a slightly lopsided tree gifts were piled high. The air buzzed with anticipation as Jesper fiddled with the makeshift tinsel, swatting Wylan’s hands away from his “adjustments.”

Nina was the first to dive into the pile, tearing into her gift with such ferocity that Kaz visibly winced at the shredding sound of the paper. When the wrapping fell away, it revealed a beautifully embroidered shawl in deep red and gold. For once, Nina was speechless, her fingers brushing tracing the intricate patterns.

“Inej,” she said knowingly, her voice softer than usual.

Inej nodded, her eyes warm with the quiet satisfaction of a well-chosen gift “It seemed fitting for someone as vibrant as you.” she said simply.

Nina wasted no time draping the shawl over her shoulders. She stood, striking a regal pose as if she were holding court. “I am the queen of Ketterdam!” she declared with a dramatic flourish. “Behold, my royal warmth. Bow before my elegance or risk my wrath.”

Jesper immediately dropped to one knee, hand pressed to his heart. “Your Majesty,” he intoned gravely.

Matthias sat rigidly in his chair, his gaze drifting toward Nina and lingering just a heartbeat too long. The faintest flush crept up his cheeks as he quickly averted his eyes. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered, his gruff tone betrayed by the subtle twitch at the corner of his lips.

Jesper’s gift was next, he tore into the wrapping with a dramatic flair, scattering bits of paper everywhere. Beneath the layers, he revealed a sleek holster made of dark, supple leather, its surface embossed with swirling, intricate designs.

He let out a low whistle, his grin splitting wide as he practically bounced in his seat. “Wylan!” he exclaimed, holding the holster up as if it were a crown jewel. “This is... the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—aside from you, of course!”

Wylan ducked his head, his cheeks coloring a deep shade of red. “I thought… well, I thought you’d appreciate something functional and—” He hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “You know, with a little flair.”

Jesper was out of his seat in an instant, closing the distance between them. He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Wylan’s flushed cheek. “Perfect,” he murmured, his voice soft, full of affection. His fingers traced the designs on the holster, marveling at the craftsmanship. “Just like you”

Wylan’s blush deepened, his gaze dropping to his lap as a small, shy smile tugged at his lips. “You’re impossible,” he muttered.

Next, Matthias unwrapped his gift revealing a small, leather-bound book with a garish yellow cover. The title, How to Enjoy Life!, glared up at him in bold, oversized letters.

Nina leaned back in her chair, barely containing her laughter. “It’s from me,” she said, her voice a mix of sweetness and mischief. “A gentle nudge to, you know, loosen up a bit.”

Matthias held the book up like it was a dangerous artifact. “Does it come with instructions on how to survive you?” he deadpanned, earning a chorus of chuckles.

Skeptical but curious, he flipped the book open. As he did, a small set of cufflinks slid out from between the pages, landing neatly in his lap with a soft clink.

Nina’s grin widened as she leaned forward, watching him with eager eyes. “Think of those as the reward for enduring my wisdom,” she teased.

He picked up the cufflinks, his large hands turning them over carefully. The intricate wolf motifs etched into the polished silver caught the light. His frown softened, his thumb lingering over the design “At least these aren’t completely ridiculous,” he muttered, warmth creeping into his voice.

“I’ll wear the cufflinks, Nina. But don’t expect me to take life lessons from you anytime soon.”

Nina raised her hands in mock surrender, her laughter finally breaking free. “I’ll settle for the cufflinks,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “Progress, my love. Progress.”

© xyywrites. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

@xypheris

[permetutotheworld]

my tears ricochet

requested by @yesiamprocrastinating

We gather here, we line up, weepin' in a sunlit room And if I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes too <- reminiscent of how sirius always tried to take regulus’ punishments for him but they ended uo both getting hurt most of tje time Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe All the hell you gave me? <- regulus knows hed been shitty to sirius but did he really deserve to be erased from his life? To be replaced? 'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you 'Til my dying day <- to regulus, sirius will always be his big brother

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace <- he couldnt face telling everyine what he was going to do, a coward till tje end And you're the hero flying around, saving face <- sirius was always tje heroic one kot him And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed <- regulus always thought sirius hated him, but jere he is at his makeshift grave crying and swearing and begging him to come back Look at how my tears ricochet

We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring You know I didn't want to have to haunt you But what a ghostly scene <- regulus never wanted to hurt sirius, it was just something tjat happened, somethung he could never aeem to fix You wear the same jewels that I gave you As you bury me <- sirius still wears regulus’ signet ring all these years later

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace 'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave <- sirius used to tell him he was brave when he cried, telling him he was proud even though he couldnt stand up to their parente And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? <- but if sirius got tired of regulus and trying to protect him Cursing my name, wishing I stayed <- why does sirius blame himself for regulus’ death Look at how my tears ricochet

And I can go anywhere I want Anywhere I want, just not home <- because sirius is home, but he cant go to him, not anymkre And you can aim for my heart, go for blood But you would still miss me in your bones <- no matter hiw much sirius insists james is his brother, he will always nurse a small part of his heart that hold baby regulus And I still talk to you (when I'm screaming at the sky) <- his last words were ‘sirius’ as he strained to the surface of the water And when you can't sleep at night (you hear my stolen lullabies) <- when its quiet sirius can sometimes hear regulus playing tje piano in tje distance

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves <- he didnt tell anyone of what he was doing, but he hopes he made a difference all the same You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same <- sirius had to bury regulus in his mind and it smothered a part of him he didnt realise he had Cursing my name, wishing I stayed You turned into your worst fears <- and now reggie is gone and sirius is angry and vengeful and all the things he swore je wouldnt be And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain <- he blames his parents he blames voldemort he blanes Kreacher he blames regulus he blames himself Crossing out the good years <- he forgets all tje laughter they had as children And you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet <- and regulus is gone, but his pain is simply past along, to tje next of kin

[lunarthecorvus]

YOOO A KANEJ FAN

I HAVE FOUND MY PEOPLE

yes soc is awesome im on like a 3rd reread rn

actually i came here because of that asks reblog thingie to ask you something like what's your fav colour or shir

BUT KANEJ!!!

okay you gotta tell me your fav scene. also did you read the books or watched the show

Heyy! First I have to apologise for being so late with this- I can be good at answering asks or just awful at answering them on time-

I have read the books and watched the show. I watched the show first then got hyperfixated on the crows and needed to consume the books so I listened to the audiobooks! I adore the audiobooks and all the voices BUT I have a complaint about the pronunciation of words being different each time I heard them- even the same voice actors would pronounce the same word differently ahsha

Show wise I have quite a few favourite scenes and one of them is the one where all the crows (minus Matthias </3) were in that cafe discussing plans. Another one is the one where Jesper says that Jes means Suli for friendship, I loved the moment where the train expolded, the irony was just funny and I loved Jesper in that scene.

The scene where we had Inej, Zoya and Nina is the same frame was perfectt. Alina telling the Darkling she can deal with it hersekf and handle the people coming after her, also her killing the Darkling was amazing because I despise that creepy man. Inej doing the cool jump and slicing the shadow demon, iconnn. Honestly I almost wrote about that whole scene, I just love it all.

Seeing Kaz, Jesper and Nikolai be in the same room (the scene where Jesper and Kaz are arrested), I also loved.

Ooo and the scene where Inej is surrounded and goes 'the question is will I waste my prayers tonight after gutting you all' that was INEJ FUCKING GHAFA, shes so powerfulll. Then her and Nina interacting (I know not for long but stilll) and Nina speaking Suli, YESS. I wish that scene was longer.

Book wise, I could go on forever and in more detail about but I don't want this to be too long, so if you want to know more about why I love these scenes, feel to send an ask and i might get to it this year hopefully ahhsdh-

Inej being injured in the ship and Nina taking care of her. Just reading Nina care for Inej and them just being best friends and just talking was so nice to read, those girls deserve the worlddd, also their friendship means so much to mee.

Jesper and Wylan when they're breaking the chain because thats when I really realised how much I loved book!wesper and them interacting was so niceee. Also we just got see more of a newer side of Wylan and Jesper, it's one of my favouritee wesper scenee.

Kaz and Inej 'I would come for you' scene, when I tell you I was shocked at this scene, two people guarded like those two. Especially admitting that he would come for her not matter what was happening to either of them, he would come for herrr.

I was going to include just one but the other scene is the scene where Kaz says is my tie straight and Inej laughs, its them being in love and just being soft for a moment AHHHH, then when she goes to her parents and when she goes 'her heart was a river and it carried her to the sea', the fact that she gets to reunte with her parents hunt slavers and work with Kaz to take them down on land sometimes as well, JUST I LOVE HER and am happy for her. Her saying she thinks he's worth saving AAAAA.

Honourary mention is when she said the 'I will have you without armour or I will not have you at all' she set boundries as she should despite the fact that she knew she had feelings for him and wasn't willing to throw her life away and basically said that he needs to be willing to work on himself, Y E S.

Matthias and Nina, the kiss scene where he spins her around, I SQUEALED when I read that. I adore them both and was so happy when they actually finally broke down all the tensity and gave innn.

Nina being on Parem, I know that its sad because of what it did to her BUT she was just so powerful and commanding in that scene I just ahhhhhh love it. Also I love how Nina just manages to flirt her way through stuff and is an incredible spy, NINAAAA, shes so impressive

Wylan, ooo this one, its when Wylan was first disguised as Kuwei and watched his dad be fine with killing him, as well as just being face to face with his abusive piece of shit father. As someone who has/had a Dad like that when I heard that I was so FREAKING PROUD of him, he was face to face and watched his father do that and managed to boast to him about knowing he'd that and fooling him, Y E S. I was so impressed and knew the strength it would take to even face him, I'm still so proud of him to this

Inej, there are so many scenes but one is the 'when the world owed you nothing, you demanded something of it anyway.' just hit the feels, she's writing her own fate after other people writing it for her and knowing that unlike Dunyasha she didn't have some special protection when she was taken, but she will hold herself up because she has survived and she is INEJ GHAFA. Another scene like this I loved was the incinerator scene because it felt so just AHHH, she finally chose that she was going to survive and finally live, it just hitss. And she released she was going to do it herself and not for work for anybody and help people like her.

There are so many more Inej scenes but this post is already too long that I don't want to make it so much longer, I wanted to include scenes for Kaz, Jesper and Matthias but I saw this post was just so long so for now I'm ending it here, if you want me to write about those scenes just send me another ask about it and I'll include them :)

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

can we talk about how much of a genuine coward spy is when it came to scouts death in the comics? He couldnt bring himself to tell scout the truth, so he "had someone else" do it for him by disguising as tom jones and THEN telling scout.

Sure, maybe he doesnt want Scout to jate him, but still. The rest of the team knows. He probably had to BRIBE them to keep their yaps shut.

Which got me thinkin of a little story. The guilt of both leaving scout and failing to admit the truth to scout is eating spy from the inside out, yet hes been trained and taught not to feel any emotions outwardly, so he doesnt express anything towards it.

But here's the catch: his body is literally being eaten alive inside by the "guilt". AKA, it's just failing on him.

It starts small, with the occassional smoker's cough, until blood starts to come up with the coughing. Its not mucj at first, just some specks, but it gets more intense as time continues until hes coughing out nothing but blood.

medics unable to identify whats wrong. Spy doesnt know what to do. he doesnt know why its happening. he has to get off the battlefield because its gotten so bad.

his teammates are concerned. spy brushes their concern off, saying that he'll be alright in a few days or so.

he was wrong. a few days later hes practically DYING. medic tells him that je cant do anything for spy, and that even if he brings spy back, itll just keep happening. spy finally asks medic to do him a final favour: Tell Scout the truth once spy's dead. Tell everyone to act like they hadn't known, so it seems like scout wasnt left in the dark about it. Medic agrees, sad that it had come to this and feeling like a bad doctor for letting his teammate down. Medic brings the news to everyone but scout and relays spys final request to them. They agree to pretend they hadnt known, including miss pauling, since she was there.

Spy dies a couple days later. Medic tells everyone at breakfast time that spy had passed overnight. Everyones saddened and stunned. Medic then relays spy's request to tell the truth.

Scout's devasted. Absolutely crushed. He wasnt a fan of spy, sure, but now knowing that spy was his dad, he doesnt know what to feel.

The mercs hold a makeshift funeral for spy, and scout doesnt attend. he cant bring himself to. He's upset, both bevause he wasnt told and because he'd never get to make up lost time with his father.

Anon you're killing me.

Uh, this was so good!

But dare I say on the Spy being a coward part, I actually look at that scene as Spy realizing that telling Scout now, while he's dying, won't provide him any comfort, it'll just make his death about Spy in a sence. So he turns into Tom Jones, knowing that's the thing that will provide Scout with the most comfort in his final moments. He also knows that his true feelings about Scout will mean more from Tom Jones than Spy. I mean, if you look at how happy Scout looks at being told that, Spy knows that if he would have been the one to say it, he would have killed the peaceful death that Scout deserved. (But I saw a theory once that claims that Scout knew that Spy was Tom Jones in this situation, and he just played along)

Also! I honestly don't think the other mercs would have to be bribed not to talk about it. They just wouldn't say anything, knowing that its a moment Spy and Scout need to share. That's why when Scout was dying Sniper only said

"Mate." And nothing more. He knew, and I highly doubt Sniper was taking money from Spy to keep keep secret hidden.

But anyway! This was really good. Thank you for sending this Anon!

[separatist-apologist]

Neon In The Nighttime

Summary: It's the end of the word as we know it. A west coast baker and the drummer of a metal band team up in Boston, MA thinking they're one of the last few people left alive after a viral outbreak turns those infected into blood hungry monsters.

Their destination: Los Angeles, California- the last place Lucien's eldest brother was living while gearing up for a presidential run. Lucien is desperate to escape the memories of his past life and what he had to do when his wife, Jes, became infected. Elain wants to try and reclaim the fractured pieces of the life she remembers before everything went to hell.

Read on AO3

Before:

Something was blocking the tunnel. 

Tapping her fingers against the steering wheel of her car, Elain wondered how much longer she’d be trapped in the dark. The orange glow of the lights bounced off her tinted windows, casting long, looming shadows against the dark interior. She’d turned the radio off a good ten minutes before, frustrated with the upbeat pop music pouring through the speakers while she remained frozen in place growing more frustrated by the second.

She had no cell service in the tunnel that might have passed the time. No way to tell her father she was running late or to call a friend and complain. Just Elain and her thoughts—and lately, Elain had been trying to avoid those, too.

Everything was falling apart. Trapped in the dark, she supposed now was as good of a time as any to reflect on her many failings. Elain had mapped out her entire life when she’d been ten years old. Sure, she’d done it in glitter gel pen and maybe she’d had to adjust some things—she was never going to be princess of any country, and thank God for that—but for the most part, those loopy scrawled plans were tattooed on her brain.

Finish school.

Get married.

Have kids.

She’d finished school, she’d gotten a rather good job at a museum which had helped her finance her even better job at the bakery she owned. And she was supposed to be getting married, too. That was where the shiny paint on her shiny life started to peel away. Graysen wasn’t a bad man. Not really. Disinterested, sure. And married to his tech job, absolutely. He was also very obviously in love with his best friends girlfriend, though he would have denied it if she’d accused him of such.

Again. 

Her father was sick, had picked up some virus he couldn’t shake and Elain hadn’t complained at all when Feyre and Nesta had called, asking if she’d go check on him. 

He’s getting old, Nesta had said, her implications clear. Maybe he needed more supportive care now that mom was gone. Someone should arrange that. And though both Nesta and Feyre were far closer to their fathers Virginia Beach home up in New York City, it had been Elain, all the way from San Diego, who’d flown back to handle it.

She hadn’t even been mad like she might have been in the past. Elain needed to clear her head of Graysen and her impending marriage. Did she want to be married to a man that couldn’t remember her birthday but could drop everything to pick up Laura from the airport on a random Tuesday afternoon? And did she want to always be competing with someone so effortlessly beautiful? What happened when Laura and Tom broke up? Would Graysen throw their marriage away, kids and all, for a shot at his dream girl? She felt insane. Pressing her forehead to the steering wheel, Elain accidentally honked at the person in front of her, which led to a rolled down window and a middle finger pointed right at her.

She deserved that. Sighing, Elain fiddled with the radio, ignoring the static until finally there was music again. California Girls could blow her, actually. She didn’t change the song, though her mood only worsened. Uphead, someone laid on their horn, likely just as furious as she was becoming. 

There was traffic and then there was whatever this was. Someone going too fast, staring at their phone, and now they had to wait for a tow truck to make its way in. Elain missed nothing about this place. Three cars ahead, someone had opened their door and was yelling something at another driver. 

The song ended abruptly, sooner than she remembered. Only half paying attention, Elain didn’t catch the first part of the of the radio jockey’s joking words.

“...Chesapeake Bay Bridge is still closed due to a pile up. If you can, take another route, folks! It doesn’t look like it’s gonna clear anytime soon.”

Elain emitted a soft scream, shaking her steering wheel beneath her white knuckle grip. Of course there would be an accident, and while she felt for the people involved, she also hated them a little, too. Elain might have voiced this somehow, might have joined the people just leaving their cars had the strangest thing not have happened.

Someone was running. Weaving through traffic without a shirt and stained with a substance Elain couldn’t see well. The guy who’d left his own car a few up shouted something at that bare chested woman.

And in true, New England fashion, she screamed in return. High pitched and furious, garbled from whatever substance she’d likely ingested. Elain was surprised when the woman lunged for him, slamming him up against his car.

“Did she…” Elain watched, heart pounding as the strangers mouth latched to the angry mans neck. Shaking her head, the woman shook him around like a dog with a rabbit, ripping his throat out with her teeth. Too late, Elain realized it was blood staining her bare chest. 

“HEY!” The guy in front of her got out of his vehicle, brandishing a gun. “Lady! Get off him!”

Elain screamed when that gun was pointed, when the sound of a bullet echoed through those dark tunnel walls. He was close enough he’d aimed well, hitting her square in the chest, for all the good it did. She lunged again, teeth sinking against his forearm.

“BITCH!” he roared, shooting again. Elain couldn’t drag her eyes away from the way her head seemed to cave in around itself or how blood splattered in every direction, including her windshield. 

The man in front of her turned, wild-eyed and terrified, still holding the gun in one hand. His arm dripped blood to the asphalt below. 

“I…” Elain only shook her head through the window, wincing when more shouting and more bullets echoed from somewhere in the distance. What was happening? Dread prickled along the back of her neck, keeping Elain strapped beneath her seatbelt even as another blood soaked interloper raced through the parked cars in the tunnel. 

That person was shot down, too. More people had begun to flee their cars, turning back the way they’d came rather than wait to see what—or who—might step from the darkness. Elain hesitated. Leaving seemed foolish—she had miles before she was above ground again, and beyond that, this was a rental. But on the other…there were three dead bodies now lying between her car and her destination, and no possibility she was going to see her dad that day. 

And when the man with the bleeding arm pounded against her driver side window and said, “You and me, lady. Let's go!” Elain unbuckled herself, cut the ignition, and got out of her car. 

“You’re not a nurse by any chance?” he asked, eyeing her hopefully.

“Baker,” she said, not daring to look too close at the bite wound on his arm. She might be sick if she did. “What was that?”

“Fuck if I know,” he replied, wincing as he pressed at his skin. “There was nothing in those eyes, though. Just…she was like some kind of fucking zombie. Never heard of a drug that did that to people.”

Neither had Elain. “Should we leave our cars?”

“Look, it’s your funeral if you stay,” he said, looking over his shoulder. Fear laced his every word, and though this man looked like he could handle himself, something about the way he clutched that gun made him seem small somehow. “But I’m not sticking around to find out what that bitch was on, or if she brought more friends.”

His words were punctuated by the sound of loud, terrified screaming and more bullets from people like the man standing in front of her. How many people in the tunnel had brought a gun? And how many would use it before the day was over? 

“My name is Elain,” she told him, slamming her car door behind her. An exodus of people was happening as others, clearly shaken by the death happening so close to them. It was easy to fall into step with the others, to wind among the cars still hoping to get to their destination.

“George,” he replied, wincing again. “She fucking bit me good.”

“Let’s get you out of here,” Elain told him, glancing at her cell phone. No service still, which shouldn’t have surprised her. “We can call for 911 when we’re above ground.”

“You’ll tell them—”

“Yeah,” she agreed, catching the relief flood his face. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Always wondered what it would be like,” he confided. Orange gilded the guilt not lining his weathered face, casting him in a near demonic light in the dark. “Killing someone, I mean. Used to think it would be like the movies.”

She was going to be sick. Forcing herself to keep walking, Elain pressed her lips together.

“It’s not,” he confided, his voice cracking. “It’s nothing like the movies.”

A cruel part of her wanted to tell him that anyone with a brain could have guessed that. Of course there was a peculiar kind of horror to taking another life, deserved or otherwise. It wouldn’t have helped the man beside her, pallid and slick with sweat as he was. He looked as though he might fall to his knees and begin sobbing, and Elain didn’t think she was equipped to help him. 

They lapsed into an uneasy silence. No one spoke as they walked, eyes focused straight ahead. More people joined, leaving car doors open to walk with the crowd and when the sound of bullets echoed behind them, shoulders tensed and children wailed, but not one person said another word.

The man beside her had begun to shuffle by the time they’d reached the entrance. Elain was exhausted and wrung out, checking her phone every few seconds, desperate to get a text to her sisters.

Something is wrong in Virginia. Someone attacked a man, ripped out his throat. I’ll check on dad another day, planning to come home. Can one of you meet me at the airport?

Beside her, the man doubled over, grunting as he slammed to his knees. Elain hated how she hesitated, hated even more that part of her wanted to leave him there. She wasn’t the only one. The crowd parted around them like water against a rock, though she and a few others had halted, trying to decide if they’d drag him out or not.

“Are you okay?”

He looked up at her, the sunlight casting his pale face in stark relief. Only his eyes were illuminated, the rest hidden in the orangy darkness of the tunnel.The blue of his veins seemed to bulge while his eyes, once a lovely shade of green, seemed to be bleeding red. 

Elain took a step back while he slid that gun between them. The metal bounced off her flats, resting between her two legs.

“Kill me,” he whispered, eyes locked on her. “Do it.”

Elain shook her head back and forth, bile rising in her throat. The people who had stopped to help were now backing away from them both, their own fear so stark, so pungent she could taste it on her tongue. 

The stranger—George, his name was George—lunged for her, mouth open and Elain screamed. Elbows slammed violently to the asphalt, jangling every nerve in her body. Elain reached for the gun, pressing the barrel to his forehead as he came atop her. In the daylight, Elain could see how red his gums were, how stained his teeth had become, or maybe always had been. Like he’d spent a lifetime smoking or something was rotting him from the inside out.

He snapped his jaw shut, the tendons in his neck practically bulging.

“Please,” he growled, his voice hoarse as if he’d been screaming. “Please, before I—”

Whatever light existed, whatever soul people possessed, winked out like a light. If she hadn’t been sprawled out on the ground, she wouldn’t have seen it. Elain didn’t think the people in the semi-circle around them had caught it. But George—the man who’d killed already and come to regret it, vanished and left behind nothing but a shell. Blood tinged teeth snapped at her like a rabid dog desperate for nothing but a taste of her skin. 

She didn’t let herself think about it. Finger on the trigger, Elain squeezed, eyes closed tight. George fell to the ground, still twitching, eyes still wide open and staring. 

And he’d been right.

Killing was nothing like the movies.

Now: 

LUCIEN:

When the world went to shit, it had the decency to do it all at once. There was no soft whimper, no slow decline but merely a burning wildfire that spread hot through cities and killing indiscriminately. Lucien recalled those early reports of a virus and the warnings to isolate, to stay indoors and wear a mask whenever they needed to go out. And he remembered the endlessly opining of politicians, unconcerned with anything but reelection and their own bank accounts, getting on television to argue it was the end of America if they had to shut down for even a day.

How right they’d been, in the end. America as Lucien knew it was over.

A month after the first reports of what had happened in Virginia, the lights went out on the east coast and never came back on. He’d been touring with his band, The Exiles, at the time and had been desperate to get back to his wife. Lucien had driven until he couldn’t and walked the rest of the way—all the way to Boston, where Jes had been waiting.

Infected.

And Lucien would never forgive himself for what he’d had to do. Vacant, lifeless and yet still moving, still seeing—she’d tried to rip his throat out and Lucien had killed her. Had left her body bleeding in the kitchen of their shared apartment, bought with the money his label had given him when they’d sold their record. 

He hadn’t known if he could  touch her long enough to bury her and in the end, he’d simply left her behind. And for months afterwards, he’d camped out in the building across the street, alternating between wishing he had the guts to kill himself, crying and screaming and destroying the now empty walls he was trapped in, and devising a plan.

The last time he’d seen his elder brother had been in Los Angeles. A Senator of California gearing up for a third run and thinking of presidency, one day, Eris had urged Lucien to relocate to California.

It’s safer out here. 

Eris had been one of the few people in those early days arguing it was better to be safe, to distance socially rather than lose lives needlessly. And if Eris had survived the early days, Lucien knew he’d still be alive now. A year had passed since Lucien had come back, a year since he’d last looked at Jesminda’s empty brown eyes and pulled the trigger of the gun he’d stolen off a body in Georgia. 

He couldn’t keep going like this. Jes wasn’t coming back, and the life he’d once fought so desperately for wasn’t, either. This new world was something else, something new and terrible and still beating its putrid, stinking heart.

And fate, if such a thing existed, had decided to spare him. What good was it to sit in an apartment that had once belonged to someone, staring out a window missing the wife who had died while he’d been fucking around on tour? There was no saving Jes, and maybe no saving himself, either.

But he couldn’t kill himself, and he couldn’t spend another New England winter without heat. The streets had been empty for weeks by the time Lucien stepped into the muggy, summer weather. The scent of rotting sewage was overwhelming, gagging him the moment he was outdoors. Pulling the neck of his black shirt up over his nose, Lucien made his way down the sidewalk toward a parking garage. He had keys in his hand, stolen from the family apartment he’d been squatting in. 

He prayed for anything but a minivan, and in the end was rewarded with a black pick-up truck that had three quarters of a tank still. It wasn’t enough to get him to California, but it was enough to get him the fuck out of Boston.

He’d always liked camping. Maybe he’d get a tent, fuck off to the wilderness, and hike his way to California when he ran out of gas. The thought pulled Lucien from his self-loathing just long enough to convince him to stop at a large box store for supplies. He had no money, and needed none, either. The lights were off, the door barricaded, and the parking lot long abandoned. Lucien was used to it. 

Prying open the sliding glass doors, Lucien didn’t bother offering a greeting. He’d used to in the early days, back when people had taken to squatting in stores where there was an abundance of available food. Violent gang wars broke out over non-perishable items and anyone with sense moved on. There was no sense in losing your life over shelf-stable green beans, after all. 

Lucien exhaled, ignoring how the store smelled like mildew and how light didn’t penetrate through the filthy windows anymore. There had once been a deal on strawberries—two for five—back when you could walk in and get a plastic container on your way home from work. There was no produce left, either eaten or rotted away to nothing. Flies buzzed around his head, swatted as he continued down the aisles, ignoring food in favor of a rolled up sleeping bag and somehow, a rather nice tent untouched, and yet dusty, in the box. Lucien pulled it all apart just to be sure there were no missing pieces and when he found there wasn’t, he almost smiled.

Almost.

Because behind him, the sound of a hammer pulled. He hadn’t heard whoever was lurking until he felt the cold kiss of steel against his temple. Swallowing his fear and the urge to thank this person for putting him out of his misery, Lucien very slowly raised his hands. “No harm done.”

“Yet,” came a delicate female voice. “Turn around. Let me see your eyes.” Slowly, Lucien turned only to be confronted with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t her. She looked as if she should have died in those early days of chaos and the gun still pressed to his head seemed wildly out of place in her fair, slender hands. 

Brown eyes flecked with gold surveyed him, her full lips pressed in a thin line. Her golden brown hair was twisted off a, frankly, stunning face with a pretty pink ribbon. Tight, black leggings and an oversized Who's Your Laddy shirt told Lucien this woman had likely been living here a while, picking through whatever was left—which seemed to be the seasonal clothing, if nothing else.

It worked for her, though. 

Still crouched to the ground, Lucien waited for her assessment. “How do you feel?” she demanded, eyes sweeping over his form. 

“Besides the gun against my head?” he asked pointedly. She didn’t bother to look sorry, though she did pull it away. Lucien didn’t even blame her for it—this was how she’d survived, surely.

Shoot first, ask questions later. “I’m not sick.”

“I’ve heard that before,” she replied, her bottom lip wavering a little. He rose, drinking her in as he showed her his hands.

“Want to check me for scratches?” “If you’re lying, you have maybe an hour. Two if you’re lucky. I’m so tired of killing, just…just go,” she whispered, looking up at him through dark, thick lashes. 

“I’m not. I promise,” he added, unsure why it felt important he do so. “My name is Lucien.”

“Elain,” she replied, tucking the gun beneath her arm. Lucien was tempted to take it from her and didn’t want to risk a bullet between his eyes. 

Elain took a step back while Lucien gathered up his open tent box and the rolled up blue sleeping bag. There was a purple one just beside it, the last one on the shelf. He grabbed that, too, just for good measure. 

“Elain,” he repeated, wondering if she’d join him in California or he’d leave her here. A slithering sense of relief filled his empty chest at the thought of company—of someone to talk to after a year of raging silence. “Where are you from, Elain?”

That bottom lip quivered again. “San Diego…or Virginia Beach, technically. I was visiting my dad when…”

Lucien tried not to think of the horror. Ships of infected sailors had come in through naval ports, while travelers had tracked it through airports. Major naval bases had been hit just as hard as major cities, and Virginia Beach was still considered point zero for the outbreak. 

“Ah.” 

She fell into step beside him, trailing him toward the now empty registers where he could leave his equipment and grab some food, too. “How did you end up here?”

“I caught a ride with someone,” she admitted, her pretty eyes glassy in remembrance. Another friend she’d had to kill? “My sisters were in New York City.”

Lucien doubted they still were. One of the last images he’d ever seen was the chaos in the city—the infected running after screaming civilians, ripping people to the ground with their teeth. Eating them alive, feasting on the living. Lucien closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to banish the memory. He didn’t want to think about it, or what had happened to Jes while he’d been away. 

“I doubt anyone is still in that shit hole city. Even the rats have probably gone by now,” Lucien said with a shrug. Elain trotted after him, grabbing red plastic basket helpfully.

“Where are you going?” she asked him. 

“California. My brother was out there—I’m going to find him.”

“How do you know he’s still alive?”

Lucien sighed. “Eris is like one of those nuclear bomb proof roaches. There’s no way he’s dead. If anything, he’s probably the leader of some doomsday cult.”

“My sister Feyre was like that. Maybe they found each other.”

Lucien could only shrug. In a different world, a different life, he might have offered her a shred of hope or comfort. Now, though, all he had was frank honesty. Her sisters were probably dead, just like his brother, and only the fear of being alone kept them from admitting it to themselves.

“You want a ride?” he asked before he could think better of it. Elain reached toward a dusty shelf and slid every can of pinto beans into her arms before letting the cans tumble into the basket.

Lucien took it from her, certain it was miserably heavy.

“To your cult leader brother?” There was a hint of humor to her words that almost made him relax.

“Or to start our own,” he replied, offering her half a smile. “I’m not picky.”

“What are you, then?” she asked, peering up at him with curiosity. Her gun was still tucked beneath her armpit, a reminder that for all the sweetness oozing from her lithe form, this woman was a killer.

A survivor.

“Tired of talking to myself,” he finally admitted. What else was there to say? Lucien didn’t know what he was or even who he was anymore. A drummer in a band that no longer existed. The youngest son of a dynasty that could be traced further back as far as most European royalty. A husband who’d taken the life of the very woman he’d sworn to protect. 

Was he a survivor, too? He didn’t feel like it, but maybe he was. Maybe by virtue of standing before her, arm laden with beans and the gun she carefully set atop her cans, Lucien, too, was a survivor. 

He knew he’d be disappointed if she said no, though. 

Elain offered him a shy smile. “Alright, Lucien. But I get to lead the cult. None of this co-leader stuff.”

He grinned.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 3 - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Pope Pinion IV (Cars)

HELLO. IT IS I. THE GREAT AND ALMIGHTY ITALIAN TOURNEY. PLEASEPLEASE PUT HIM IN THERE WAS SO MUCH POPE DISCOURSE ON MY ACC AND HE WAS SOLOED IN THE FIRST ROUND BY LUIGI😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 PLEASE AVENGE HIMMMM

The existence of Catholicism in the Cars universe implies that there was (or at least there was believed to be) a car Jesus who died for the cars’ sins, and I for one would like to see how a car gets crucified or sins. I guess the blood/wine here would be gasoline, but what would the body/bread be? How did they sit at the last supper? What is the layout of car church? How does a car build a church? Do other human religions exist in the cars universe? How does a goddess with the body of a human and the head of a cat translate to a car? Do Buddhist cars rein-car-nate? Do cars have souls?

he lost the italian character tournament, he will win here

Eddie (tw mentions of suicide)

He meets Venom (the alien goo parasite that inhabits his body) in a church. Eddie is depressed and about to end his life and just before he does it goes to church and prays to God to forgive him because suicide is… y’know, a sin. Anyway Venom possesses him and saves his life and they have a crazy relationship/love story and the stained glass window in that church becomes important symbolism for them <3 He is the most catholic man ever

Admittedly, most of Eddie's insanity has little to do with Catholicism, he's just a deranged weirdo (affectionate) but he was suicidal once and went to a church to ask forgiveness before killing himself. That's where he met the symbiote and their relationship has parallels to both marriage and religion.

Listen listen he is the epitome of Catholic trauma. He’s got the angst. The repression. The je ne sais quoi. His whole story is basically very dependant on churches if that makes any sense. Like he tried to kill himself in a church and that’s when he bonded with the symbiote. They stopped a symbiote invasion by fu̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ crying out in agony in a church. EDDIE AND VENOM GOT MARRIED IN CANON IN THE CHURCH WHERE THEY MET. He also has so many breakdowns in churches and we love that for him.

He meets Venom in a church and has a lot of religious moments connected to Venom. They also sort of get married in the church they met at? It's gay. Eddie is catholic and in a committed relationship with an alien and it's gay.

(Cw suicide mention) He's canonically Catholic and has such a funky (read: kinda fucked up) relationship with it. When his life fell apart he went to a church to pray for forgiveness for the sin of committing suicide and to ask God to kill spiderman i think but then before he could actually do anything an alien came down and connected with him (in a gay way) and he was like "are you an angel". Also his sense of morality is totally fucked, its like "if you've done something bad once you deserve to die" and I like to think that's related to the specific brand of Catholicism

killed a cop in church (amazing spider-man 1963 comic, issue 300), had a homoerotic rebonding moment with his symbiote in church (venom: planet of the symbiotes comic), asked jesus to carry out a hit on former coworker peter parker (spider-man 3 movie)

Propaganda for Eddie Brock. The most Catholic guy ever.