#they all thought they’d be spending the next season bringing him back somehow

[greyhavensking]

sometimes I think about the fact that — allegedly — the show runners of the magicians wanted to change up the dynamic of the show and their best solution to that was to kill off the main character. the depressed, openly suicidal, resolutely queer main character. and then frame his death as the noble sacrifice that made his life worth it in the end. and I want to start breaking things

#maria rambles #the magicians #this show has become a real comfort to me recently but I can never get over what they pulled with Quentin #you spend an entire season with him desperate to rescue the man he’d spent a lifetime with in an alternate timeline #willing to burn down the world to get him back and so incredibly fucked up from his own trauma #and the execs thought that having him sacrifice himself for the greater fucking good was an INSPIRED idea #and that’s not even getting into how shitty they were to the actors #like from what I remember no one knew Jason was leaving the show until like a week before they filmed the finale #they all thought they’d be spending the next season bringing him back somehow #but nope! surprise surprise but they did not in fact unbury their gay #bi. pan. his sexuality is never defined but whatever #and shockingly the show lasted for another season before ending #who could’ve guessed huh

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 3) - A Moment

Summary: Jensen is away from home for a few days but isn’t having the easiest time being away from the kids for the first time since the accident. When he returns home, he has a gala to attend on Saturday night but a kiss on the cheek and slip of the tongue will snowball into the reader and Jensen sharing a moment...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 6,100ish

Warnings: language, death of a spouse, death of a parent, anxiety, self-worth problems, referenced past harassment

A/N: I love this part so much for so many reasons. Please enjoy!

________

“Hi Jensen,” you asked Monday night when your phone rang. “How was your flight earlier?”

“Same old same old. I just got out of work,” he said with a yawn. “Gonna grab a bite out with a friend. Kids eat dinner okay?”

“We had honey sriracha glazed salmon with brussel sprouts and roasted red potatoes.”

“Really?”

“They had kraft mac and cheese and I had Taco Bell.”

“See this is why I like you,” he chuckled.

“I’ll try the salmon again tomorrow. I was gonna make it but they didn’t have any at the store,” you said, opening the fridge and taking out a pint of ice cream. “Hey can I have what’s left of this mint ice cream?”

“Sure. Pick some more up for me sometime before friday please,” he said. “Also, Taco Bell? You do realize we live in freaking Austin right. There are literally hundreds of places you can go that have better mexican food.”

“Yeah but fake cheese tastes good,” you said. He laughed and your stomach rumbled. “I so should have gotten more than two tacos.”

“You in the kitchen?” he asked. You hummed and you heard him let out an oof in the background.

“Yeah. You alright?”

“This bed in my hotel room is comfy,” he said. “But I was starting to say, go in the drawer at the end of the counter by the table. There’s only five hundred gajillion take out menus in there. Order a treat for yourself. It’s on me.”

“Jensen. I can get my own dinner.”

“True but you’re on call 24/7 until I get back.”

“Well in that case I bet you got a menu for a fancy steakhouse in here somewhere,” you teased as you picked up one for a tex mex looking restaurant. “Does this place really have quesadillas this big?”

“You must be looking at the menu on top. I almost ordered from there last week actually. The food’s great. They do delivery too. Just buzz the guy into the gate when they get there.”

“Any recommendations?” you asked, taking out the menu and flipping it over.

“Quesadillas are good. Loaded nachos are amazing. I’ve literally never had a bad thing from there,” he said. “To be honest I’d rather be getting that than where I’m going tonight.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, reading through your options, surprised to find such good prices.

“I have to wear a suit,” he said with a sigh. “After being poked and prodded all day I literally would rather just eat crap and watch food network.”

“How long have you known this friend of yours?” you asked.

“Twenty years, why?”

“Then you guys knew each other when you were young. It’s not too late out there. Call him, see if he’d rather get some crap food, a six pack and just catch up on his couch or in your room. I’m pretty sure he’s more looking forward to seeing an old friend again than the food,” you said.

“You make very good points. I should pay you more,” he said.

“You pay me plenty and barely let me spend a dime of my money on myself,” you said. “I don’t need more.”

“You got that fancy computer though.”

“You literally have the exact same mac in your office.”

“You moved in like three boxes and two computers,” he said.

“An ipad is not a computer,” you said.

“Debatable.”

“Well I like to draw sometimes and it’s easier on an ipad when you’re laying in bed,” you said. 

“Are you any good?” he asked.

“No.”

“I bet they’re really good,” he said as you rolled your eyes. “I see you draw with the kids sometimes and those are good.”

“It’s a hobby is all,” you said, leaning back against the counter, your stomach grumbling again. “Anything else you want me to grab at the store? I’m going to hit it tomorrow while everyone’s at school.”

“Nah. Get the usual stuff,” he said. “The kiddos in bed?”

“Yeah, got the last one down about fifteen minutes ago,” you said. He hummed and you heard the sigh in it. “I got a video of them playing earlier I’ll send you.”

“Thanks. It’s my first night away from them in a long time. Normally I’m able to come back same day. I was kinda hoping they’d still be awake to say goodnight.”

“They’re safe and sound dad. We’ll call again after school tomorrow to talk like today,” you said.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. He was quiet and you pulled the phone away, taking a deep breath. 

“You okay?” 

“I haven’t been alone like this in a really long time.”

“I know. You check out your backpack yet?”

“No. Why?”

“You didn’t bring a jacket with you so I put that yellow hoodie that’s always on the hook in there in case you got cold.”

“That was Dee’s hoodie.”

“I was pretty sure it was,” you said. You heard him shuffle around briefly before he hummed, much happier that time. “I thought you might like to have a piece of...something-”

“I really don’t pay you enough,” he said quietly. “Thanks for putting this in there. I need something from home more than I realized.”

“Well put it on, call up your buddy and have some fun tonight, Ackles. Nanny’s orders.” He laughed and you felt that twinge in your stomach again, your eyes quickly closing.

“I will. Hey you mind if I call again tomorrow night? I don’t have any plans and sitting in a hotel room by myself isn’t very fun.” You smiled and felt heat in your cheeks, quickly thinking it away. He wanted company for a few minutes was all and you were friends. It was completely normal to talk with friends on the phone everyday.

“Of course. As long as you get a dinner in at some point that’s more than fine with me,” you said. “We can talk about The Bachelor!”

“Oh God no,” he groaned, chuckling after a few seconds. “I’ll settle for Grey’s Anatomy.”

“This Is Us?” you asked.

“Supernatural?”

“I haven’t watched that yet. I’m working up to it,” you said. 

“Work faster woman. I only know legit everything about that one,” he chuckled. “But probably not a good idea to watch that one until I get back and you're not alone. First episode is kinda scary.”

“Oh well thanks for that,” you said, watching the clock tick by, knowing it had to be almost seven out there. “I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight Jensen.”

“I will Y/N. Promise.”

Friday Night

“Arrow,” you said after she’d flung her pasta bowl all over herself, covering her hair and face. She sniffled and you forced a smile. “Okay. How about a bath after dinner?”

Fifteen minutes later JJ and Zeppelin were in the movie room watching a cartoon while you had Arrow in the kids bathroom, scooping up some water over her head in the tub.

“Well hello ladies,” you heard behind you. You jumped and spun around, glaring for a moment before you recognized Jensen.

“Just me,” he said, backpack still on his shoulders. 

“Daddy I got ziti all over my head,” she said.

“You did?” he asked, dropping his bag and taking off his jacket, kneeling down next to you. You got the last bit of sauce off and squirted some shampoo in her hair, Jensen watching you with a smile. “How was your day?”

She told him all about breakfast and daycare, playing with a few toy boats with him while you rinsed out the soap. You did a bit of conditioner before getting it out as well and putting the spray nozzle back.

“I got the rest if you wanna get the dryer ready?” he asked you, reaching for the soap. You swapped spots with him, Jensen washing her up while she kept talking about her day. By the time he was all done you had the dryer out and plugged in, Jensen picking her up and wrapping her up in a big bundle of towels before he set her on the counter. You went to work drying her hair, Jensen draining the tub and finding some pajamas for her.

“Do you want your hair up or down, sweetie?” you asked. She tried gathering it up and you grabbed her soft scrunchie perfectly fine for sleeping in from the counter. You put her hair up in a soft little bun, Jensen making an adorable sound when he returned.

“Aw, you look so cute, baby. I’ll be right there alright?” he said. She hopped off the counter and got dressed, rushing off downstairs when she was all done. “Survive the day?”

“Somehow we always do,” you said, gathering up the towels. “Kids are in the movie room.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna shower but we’re all good for the night,” he said. “Thanks for watching them this week.”

“You gotta go do your job,” you said. “You working on a movie or something? You never said.”

“Uh gonna be in a show called The Boys,” he said. “I’m gonna be one of the superheroes so I gotta go out and get my suit made all special for me every so often.”

“You’re gonna be a supe! That’s so fucking cool!” you said. He grinned and you blushed, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so not appropriate.”

“I don’t see any little ears around,” he chuckled. “You like the show then?”

“Yeah. It’s great. Like no other show consistently makes me go what the fuck did I just see. That’s so cool you get to be a supe though. Are you a one off or like a main character?”

“I’ll be very present in the next season. Gonna deal with the seven, all that,” he said. “I’m gonna be Solider Boy.”

“I can see that. You have that all American boy thing about you.”

“It’s my adorable face,” he teased. 

“Well remember to not stay up too late. You have the gala tomorrow night remember?”

“Yes mom,” he said as you walked out. “Get the kids some takeout for dinner tomorrow and yourself.”

“Sounds good boss,” you said. “Night Jensen.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

The Next Night

You froze from where you were mixing up some brownie batter with JJ at the kitchen counter as Jensen popped downstairs. He was in a gorgeous black suit, a maroon pocket square and no tie going on, his hair scruffier looking than normal.

He started to laugh and you realized you were staring, your cheeks feeling hot as you went back to stirring.

“Mmm, you guys save me a brownie or two for when I get home?” he asked, leaning over and dipping his finger in the bowl of cream cheese frosting.

“We’ll spare one for dad,” you said, Jensen going back for seconds. “Ah, ah. No.”

He dipped his finger in and got another fingerful, kissing the top of JJ’s head and the twins at the counter.

“Be good for Y/N guys!” he called as he rushed out.

You whistled and he jogged back, catching you holding up his phone from the counter.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it and pecking a kiss on your cheek. You looked up at him and he froze. “I am so sorry. I…”

“It’s okay. Go have fun and be all charitable,” you said. He shoved his phone in his pocket and ran out, JJ scratching her head.

“Dad’s kinda weird sometimes,” she said.

“Yeah, he is. But so is everybody,” you said. “Let’s get this in the oven so you guys can pick out colors for your frosting, hm?”

“I really shouldn’t. But I really should,” you said to yourself, plopping your second brownie of the night in a bowl and sticking a scoop of ice cream on top. You carried it over to the couch and lay back, watching TV on the big screen as you heard the door open. Jensen came into view a minute later, taking his jacket off and groaning as he washed up at the sink. He went to the tray of brownies on the counter and picked one up with a big sigh. “Fun night?”

He jumped and whacked his head against the cabinet above, hissing before he spun around.

“You okay?” you asked. He nodded and left the brownie behind, pushing his sleeves up before taking a seat on the other end of the lounger.

“Y/N I’m really sorry about the kiss on the cheek. That was so inappropriate. You’ve kinda implied that there was some stuff that’s happened to you at other jobs you found over the line and I’m really truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I wasn’t...I forgot you’re my employee for a moment. I really am sorry.”

“Jensen if I had a problem with it or you or your behavior I would quit on the spot. I don’t let myself get pushed around anymore. You were happy and busy and you pecked a kiss on my cheek, not reach a hand down my pants. It’s really okay. You’re way too hard on yourself.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Positive. It’s barely ten which means you left as soon as you could. You’re supposed to be out having fun,” you said.

“I was kinda freaking out that you hated me,” he said.

“Dude you gotta relax,” you said. “Have a brownie and some ice cream.”

He got up and after a minute took a seat at the other end with a bowl of his own, smiling as he got a taste.

“This is fucking awesome,” he said.

“I know,” you said, Jensen smirking. “Do you feel better now silly boy? I promise that if you ever do anything I find inappropriate I will promptly kick you in the balls.”

“I can agree to that,” he said. He ate for a moment, watching the TV and laying back. “Do you ever like, want to go do things with your friends on a Saturday night? If you do that’s totally cool. These aren’t normal hours anyways.”

“Being a nanny eats up a lot of your social life,” you said. “Kinda got kicked out of my friend group after I broke up with my ex anyways.”

“Well they sound like they suck,” he said.

“Yes, they do,” you said. “I don’t mind so much. I meet plenty of new people through work. Only person you can depend on is yourself and I don’t tend to let myself down.”

“That’s a very lonely way to go through life,” he said.

“It’s not easy to make friends in your thirties,” you said. “Maybe for someone like you who travels and meets new people a lot and stuff but you have like, real friendships. You know?”

“Well we have a real friendship, don’t we? You’re friends with Jared and Rob and Ruthie and Rich,” he said. “I don’t trust just anybody with my kids. That’s real.”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a bite. “So when’s your friend free?”

“Hm?”

“Blind date guy. Maybe he could be a friend if things work out,” you said.

“Oh yeah. He uh, he actually got a gig up in Canada so you might need to wait like a month or so. But he’s excited to meet you,” said Jensen.

“Can I have his number?” you asked. “Or do you think that’d be weird?”

“No, not weird. I think he just kinda wants to do it old school if that’s okay. Meet you first and go from there.”

“This friend of yours better be like super hot,” you said.

“If it’s a problem-“

“I can respect him wanting to do things like that. But I’m gonna want a firm date soon,” you said.

“I’ll make sure to get you one,” he said. “I’ll get it down tomorrow, promise.”

“He better not mind me eating like this either. I ain’t a salad on the first date kinda girl. He’s gonna need to keep up with my eating while were at it,” you said. He snorted in his seat beside you and ran his hand over his face.

“I will keep that in mind. I have occasionally had dessert first truth be told,” he said.

“This is why I like you Ackles. You get my sweet tooth,” you laughed.

“It’s a good thing your dinners are healthy cause I swear I haven’t consumed this many baked goods in months,” he said. “The kids love it and my stomach loves it though.”

“I’m gonna need to start working out though if I keep this up. Oh hey is it okay if I do laps in the pool in the mornings? I’ll be super quiet and stuff.”

“You don’t gotta ask,” he smiled. “Like I said when you started, you got free reign to use the pool, the gym, whatever, aside from my room. You a swimmer?”

“Not really but I hate running and supposedly it’s a good workout or something,” you shrugged, eating another bite of brownie.

“Anything in the gym you’re free to use. I know you must get a little bored sometimes when I’m gone and the kids are,” he said.

“Not bored per say. Ordinarily I would do more chores but you have like a cleaner and a landscaper and you just...give me more time in the day than I’m used to is all. It’s actually great though. It gives me plenty of time to come up with ideas for the kids and stuff.”

“Well as long as you’re taking breaks and your lunch do as you please,” he said, his spoon scraping the bottom of his bowl.

“Now that’s just sad.”

“I really should get another one of these,” he said, sucking the spoon.

“It’s really the only choice you have,” you said. He laughed as he hopped up, skirting back into the kitchen and fixing up another brownie and ice cream combo.

“Hey you want more, Dee?” he asked. You popped your head up and he spun around. “I’m-“

“Don't apologize, Jensen,” you said. He tapped his fingers against the counter and took a deep breath, putting his back to you.

“That’s the second time tonight I’ve done that,” he said. 

“Jensen. There’s nothing wrong with missing your wife.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“You don’t...talk about her much.”

“It was...she wasn’t…” he trailed off. He sat down on a barstool and you got up, walking over and hopping up on the counter beside him. You set your feet in the stool next to his and paused before you put a hand on top of his head and ran your fingers through the short strands. “This shouldn’t have happened to her.”

“Death is the price for living. Pain’s the price for caring. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it,” you said. You started to move your hand away when he turned his head. 

“Don’t…” he said, easing when you played with it gently again. “That’s always calmed me down since I was a little kid.”

“Someone should take care of you every once in a while you know. Your parents, siblings, friends. Everyone needs a break.”

“I had a lot of help at the beginning. I don’t need a whole day. Just a moment here and there,” he said quietly.

“It’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. He nodded and you played with his hair a few moments, watching his shoulders ease. This time when you pulled away he smiled up at you. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you. That’s not in your job description to do that sort of thing.”

“Well I think your wife would want somebody to watch your back, even for only a minute or two,” you said.

“You don’t have any brain aneurysms I should know about, do you?” he chuckled. 

“No. That what happened?” you asked, a single nod coming from him.

“She was sleeping. Not a bad way to go I was told, you’d never even know,” he said. “Not a fun thing to wake up to in the morning though.”

“My dad had a mass at the back of his head. It was that same kind of thing where one second it’s fine and the next everything’s different deal. It was inoperable. Then he goes and dies from a car accident of all things before it got bad. My mom had a hard time with that.”

“You said she had a boyfriend later on right?” he asked.

“Yeah. I know you’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. You ruffled his hair and he smiled, a soft look on his face. “Pro tip too from someone who’s been there, kids with a single parent turn out just fine.”

“Do they ever wish they had another parent?” he asked.

“They wish the parent they still have around is happy again someday. They won’t understand until they’re older that it’s a different kind of love between parents. But they’ll know it’s a little different and they’ll hope dad feels better too. Your kids are tough. They’ll be okay too.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said. You hopped off the counter and washed up your dish, sticking it in the dishwasher before you went to leave for your room. “So I gotta ask. Who takes care of you?”

“Me?” you asked, pointing to yourself. He shrugged and smiled, your gaze going past him. “I’m all good. I don’t need somebody to take care of me.”

“Liar,” he said softly. “You know my friend tells me everybody needs to be taken care of sometimes.”

“That’s the difference between us Jensen. You’re not like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed, his face scrunching up suddenly.

“It means you’re not on your own and even if you feel like it, it’s only been a little while. You’ll be okay. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was a kid. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“You haven’t lived my life and I haven’t lived yours. Don’t try to tell me that I’m not capable of-”

“It’s not about what you’re capable of. You said pain is part of life, it’s the price for living. You’ve had more than your fair share-”

“Lots of people have it a lot worse.”

“Don’t compare your pain to someone else's. They haven’t lived your life,” he said. You rolled your eyes and started to walk away, Jensen out of his seat and catching up with you in the hall. “You can be taken care of too you know.”

“By who? My non-existent circle of friends? My crappy ex? My mom’s ex boyfriend who’s got his own wife and kids? I am perfectly fine managing all of this by myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“You’re so frustratingly annoying,” he said, running his hand over his face. “Me. I’m talking about me. You just...you took care of me tonight. The least I can do is show you the same compassion.”

“No,” you said.

“No? Why not?”

“Because taking care of me turns into you walking into my shower without my permission and you being a dick and this going away and I don’t want you to be those things so no. We’re getting too friendly. Please leave me alone tomorrow.”

You left him in the hall and went down to your area of the house, shutting the door after you. There was quickly a knock and you growled, ripping it open.

“What?” you snapped at him.

“I am not going to hurt you or be a dick to you or whatever else you think. You need to realize in the real world, not everyone is an asshole.”

“You’re the one not living in the real world then, Jensen. Everybody’s an asshole.”

“Fine. I’m an asshole. But I’m not leaving until you say I can take care of you tomorrow. Two minutes is all I’m asking for.”

“This is my part of the house.”

“And technically I am outside your door,” he said. “Why are you so resistant to somebody doing something nice for you?”

“Because I don’t wanna get used to it,” you said. He stared and you shook your head. “You’re attractive and an actor and kind and funny and it’s not a matter of if you date again but when and when that day comes, we ain’t gonna be sitting on the couch eating ice cream anymore. Please do not invite me to anymore outings as a friend. I’ll attend if required as a nanny but this between us is done.”

“For the record, the only one around here that thinks of you as just the hired help is you. My children are completely like their old selves. I feel more like my old self. You seem happier than when I met you but for some reason, that’s a big problem to you. I do not understand that.”

“Leave or I resign and move out first thing,” you said. He crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “This is my formal resignation then. The company will-”

He moved quickly and you weren’t sure what he was doing at first but soon you realized he was hugging you, your hands resting against his chest. You swallowed and he didn’t move, your forehead resting against him.

“What are you doing?” you breathed out.

“When’s the last time you got a fucking hug?” he asked.

“The kids-”

“Not the kids.”

“I don’t remember,” you said quietly. 

“Then you are overdue,” he said. You let yourself reach your arms around him and return the hug, breathing deeply, a small bubble in you rising up. You tried to push it down but it came back harder and you were fighting back tears before you knew it. 

He could feel when you lost that battle, hand rubbing up and down your back. There was a soft shushing in the air and after a few minutes you felt better. You lifted your head but didn’t look at him, Jensen squeezing you in his hug again before it eased.

“You know you’re not allowed to quit on me...like ever,” he chuckled. You let out a small laugh, Jensen smiling at you when you forced your head up. He wiped off your cheeks and you let out one last sniffle. “You’re not alone. I promise you’re not. It’s not the quantity of people you have in your life but the quality and I’m sorry but we are friends and there’s nothing you can do about that so I’d just accept it now.”

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”

“You were scared, not a bitch,” he said. “I wish I could make you happier is all.”

“I wish I could bring back your wife for you,” you said.

“One of those is a lot more possible than the other,” he said. A small smile crossed his lips before he ducked his head down, shoulders heaving back before his head raised. “Y/N, can I confess something to you? I hope...I hope it doesn’t bother you but if it does, you don’t have to continue working for me. I’d still like to be friends regardless.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked, Jensen looking past you.

“My single friend I was going to set you up with? He doesn’t exist.”

“Oh.”

“Cause he’s kinda me.”

“Oh,” you said, staring at him, a lot of his previous behavior starting to click into place. “That’s…”

“I know,” he said, stepping away and rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s weird and douchey and I’m sorry. I like you and I was trying to see if you would ever go for a 42 year old actor. I left out the widow and kids part but...I’m sorry.”

“When did you like me?” you asked quietly.

“The whole time?” he said, laughing nervously to himself. “It’s kinda snowballed since we met. I never in my life thought I’d like someone again. I didn’t want to like you. I hired you because you were the best candidate and I knew the kids would be in good hands but everyday it’s there, even more, and I know this is so inappropriate on so many levels and I’m really starting to ramble here but you make me think maybe your mom had a point and people are allowed to have...more than one…and sometimes the way you talk to me and treat me and look at me...” 

He swallowed as you stepped in front of him, taking a quick breath. 

“I will keep working for you and I’ll be your friend...and you can make me dinner tomorrow,” you said with a smile. “We’ll see where it goes from there?”

“You’re not...weirded out?” he asked.

“By your age, you’re my boss or the cheeky lying about a fake friend?” you said.

“All of the above.”

“Age doesn’t bother me. You have no idea how to be a boss, no offense, and the friend...I don’t blame you for wanting to test the waters first,” you said. “But I expect honesty from here on out.”

“Absolutely,” he said.

“Good,” you said.

“You do like me right?” he asked. “Like you don’t feel obligated or-”

“I like you Jensen. Why do you think I was trying to push you away before you got too close? I didn’t want to be hurt.”

“Give me a chance to not,” he said. “We can have dinner and see how it goes from there.”

“Normally the best course of action,” you said.

“But maybe with a few more hugs from now on,” he said. “For the both of us.”

“That’d be okay with me,” you said. He smiled and you returned it. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“I guess you will,” he said. He turned to go when he spun back on his heels. “Or we could go back out there, eat way too much dessert and hang out?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Give me a minute to wash up my face.”

“Take all the time you want. I’m gonna change into something more comfortable anyways.”

He left and you washed off your face in the bathroom, drying it off and taking a deep breath.

You did like him. There was something calming about him to you and you enjoyed his company, even if it was just the two of you having a quiet cup of coffee in the morning.

But he was an actor. And kinda famous. And a widow. And had three kids. 

“But your face is cute,” you said aloud, looking the mirror. “Gah, of course you have to be like...into me. Nutjob. He must be a nutjob. That’s it.”

“Y/N?” you heard him saying and you smacked yourself in the face. “Are you talking to yourself?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said, stepping out and seeing him in the hall sporting a pair of pajama pants and a t shirt. “That was fast.”

“Well I didn’t go through an eight step skin routine too,” he chuckled.

“For your information, my routine is only three steps,” you said, walking past him and waggling your fingers.

“I didn’t realize I was living with such a savage,” he said. You laughed and went back to the kitchen, making up another dish of brownie for him while he went over to where he kept his liquor. “You a bourbon kind of girl?”

“Is there any other kind?” you said.

“Touche.” He poured out two glasses and slid one over while you passed his bowl to him. “So what’s this three step routine? Do I need to up my game or what?”

“I think I need your routine, not the other way around,” you said.

“Nah. I like looking at your face more than mine. Trust me.”

“Oh. How long you been holding back those kinds of comments?” you teased.

“Longer than you’d think,” he said, sharing the bowl with you. “Feel okay now?”

“Yeah. I can’t remember the last time I cried,” you said. “Especially in front of someone.”

“A good cry session has never hurt in my experience. I’ll do it for work and stuff but normally I’m not much of one. Aside from the past six months I mean.”

“Are you ready to try this?” you asked.

“Yeah. I know I am,” he said. “I’m positive of it.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because you make me happy. You make me...want to do stuff again, believe in all the romantic...if I wasn’t ready, I’d feel guilty. But I don’t. I just know that maybe some people get more than one chance and maybe I’m one of them.”

“I know you are, whoever it ends up being,” you said.

“Are you ready to try this?”

You took a drink and bite of ice cream, pushing the bowl back.

“I miss my family,” you said. “I miss being happy. I’d like to...have someone that could take care of me for a moment every once in a while. I might mess that up sometimes but I’m willing to try.”

“Me too,” he said. “I’d expect some screw ups on this end too. I’ve been out of the dating game for a long time.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t changed all that much,” you said.

“Well I’ve never dated with kids and as a widow,” he said.

“I’m just in this for them to be honest,” you laughed. 

“I see how it is,” he said with a smirk. 

“I don’t think it’ll be as hard as you think,” you said.

“I hope not,” he said. 

“Do they know? You want to date?”

“JJ does,” he said. “She’s little but she understands that it doesn’t mean I’ll never love her mother any less. She’s been strangely okay through this whole thing aside from the first few weeks. She helps her brother and sister out more now.”

“As someone who was that kid, minus the siblings, I know they’ll be okay. She’s a great kid. I’ve met plenty of spoiled brats. Yours are not.”

“Well that might just be the second best thing I’ve heard tonight,” he said.

“Whatever was the first?” you teased, eating a spoon of ice cream.

“Oh I think you know,” he said, stealing the spoon back. You smiled and heard some feet run around upstairs before the stairs creeped and a little head ducked down into view. “Arrow. It’s bedtime sweetie.”

“I had a accident,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, honey,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Want help?” you asked.

“Sure,” he said. He scooped up Arrow on the way up the stairs, setting her down in the kids bathroom. He got some clean pajamas and you found a pair of pull ups, Arrow pouting at you. 

“I don’t need ‘em,” she said.

“Your brother wears them. I wore them and your mommy and daddy wore them. Everybody wears pull ups when they’re your age,” you said.

“Just tonight,” she said, stepping into them. Jensen walked past with the mattress liner and she was dressed by the time you heard the washer going off in the distance. You walked her back to bed, Jensen slipping in past you and tucking her in. “Night daddy.”

“Night sweetie,” he said, kissing her temple. 

“Night Y/N,” she said.

“Night night kiddo,” you said, giving her a tiny wave before you left, Jensen flipping off her light and pulling the door shut. 

“Come here a second,” he said, nodding and you saw him head towards his room. The double doors were open and you stepped inside, Jensen going past the bed and over to a set of french doors. He pushed one open and waved for you to follow, showing you out to a rooftop balcony.

“Wow,” you said, a set of chairs, a table and a lounger out there along with a whole lot soft string lights. “I didn’t realize you had this up here.”

“Kinda a place to go unwind, relax,” he said. “I disappear out here sometimes. Been out here a lot at night lately.”

“Thinking about what?” you asked.

“You,” he said. “I talk to Dee about you sometimes as crazy as that sounds.”

“Doesn’t sound crazy at all,” you said.

“I just wanted to say...this area isn’t off limits anymore. Nothing is,” he said. 

“She asked you out, didn’t she,” you said with a smile. He rubbed the back of his neck and blushed. “You’re cute.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek, heading back towards inside.

“Come on, Jensen. Before the ice cream melts on us.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

[imjustwritingg]

your love lifts me up (when i’m down, down, down)

Hi friends! That season finale was absolutely insane and I am still not over it, but here’s a continuation of it because Hailey deserves better and because I love Upstead and hate Hank Voight. The title is from the song "Helium" by SIA. Enjoy and let me know what you think! 

Read on AO3 and FFNet!

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your love lifts me up like helium

your love lifts me up when I'm down, down, down

when I've hit the ground

you’re all I need

‘cause your love lifts me up like helium

“I’m serious. Let’s get married.”

His immediate thought is complete and utter happiness as the words tumble from her lips and a smile quirks at the corner of his mouth, his eyes staring into hers with such love and affection.

His second thought is concern. Because as much as he may want to spend the rest of his life with the woman standing in front of him, she stands there with teary eyes and a familiar look on her face that reminds him of not too long ago that had him reassuring her he wasn’t going anywhere.

“What happened Hailey?” He finds himself asking.

“What do you mean?”

“You came in here seeming not like yourself and you just said we should get married. Not that I’m opposed to that with you, but it’s a little out of left field for you. You seem scared about something and it’s kinda freaking me out a little so just tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on. I just - I just want you. I - I don’t wanna wait.”

He takes a fraction of a step toward her, squeezing her arms gently and looking at her with the same soft expression he always has for her. “Hailey, I would marry you tomorrow, right now, if that’s what I thought you really wanted, but there’s something that you’re not telling me. I can see it in your eyes. It’s all over your face. And normally I’d let it go and give you your space to figure out whatever it is that you need to figure out, but I’m really worried here so just tell me.”

She shakes her head, somehow able to hold back the tears she has in her eyes as she stares back at him. If she were being honest, she wasn’t expecting him to say yes, that they’d suddenly be engaged or running off to City Hall the next morning for some shotgun courtroom ceremony.

The way he looks at her tells her as much, that he won’t let it go, and she can’t blame him considering the bomb she just dropped on him, but she couldn’t help it. She’d been so deep inside her thoughts and reeling from the events of the day and the night. The thought of losing him snuck into her head far too quickly and sent her into a panic and she just blurted it out.

Maybe she should have thought this through a bit more before proposing to him on a whim in the middle of her living room. She’d surprised even herself as the words fell from her lips. The idea of marriage should terrify her given the fact that the only example of it she has is her parents. But the idea of marrying him, her partner, her best friend - it sends an undeniably wonderful ache through her, like she needs it. She needs him. She’s never needed anyone in her entire life. Not her parents or friends or ex-boyfriends and past lovers. But she needs him.

“I don’t know why I said it,” she breathes out then. “I just, I saw you standing there and I thought about Kim and everything that’s happened and I - I don’t know.“

“I think that’s only part of it,” he says quietly, carefully. “Tell me why else.”

She knows exactly why else. What else. Who else. And it sends another ache rushing through her, but this one goes straight to her stomach and she swallows back the feeling of needing to gag that rises at the back of her throat.

“Can we go see Kim first?” She asks suddenly.

“Hailey - “

“Please? Let’s go to the hospital and see how she’s doing, and then we can come back here and we’ll talk. I promise.”

She says it in one breath, hurried and eyes pleading. She just needs more time. Time with him before she tells him everything that happened. Before she loses the one thing that means everything to her.

“Okay,” he sighs before jutting his chin to the bathroom behind her. “You wanna take a shower and change first or just head over?”

Hailey nods, taking a step back. “Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll be quick.”

She pulls herself away from him and heads into her bedroom, his eyes following her with more worry than before as she closes the door behind her.

She takes a deep breath as she stands in the middle of her bedroom, trying to calm her too fast beating heart until her eyes land on a basket of laundry on the floor by the dresser. Her clothes, his clothes, mixed together. And then her eyes scour the rest of the room. A pair of his boots sitting on the floor beneath the window. One of his watches and a phone charger on the nightstand at the side of the bed. His side of the bed.

She shakes her head at the sight of all these things, his things, and pulls off her jacket. She tosses it to the bed before making her way into the bathroom and closes the door that leads out to the living room.

When she turns back around it’s only a few seconds before her heart seizes again as she glances to the sink. His toothbrush in the holder beside hers. A bottle of his cologne on the other side of the faucet, one of her favorite smells that is so distinctly him. She turns her head to the shower stall at the bottles of products that don’t belong to her.

He’s made himself at home in her space, engraved his presence in the place she had once kept so private and guarded. A space that had quickly become theirs.

She feels the tears burning in the corners of her eyes again and her bottom lip begins to tremble as she realizes this may be it. This may be the last time she sees their lives so intimately twined together and it breaks something inside of her. Cracks her open so quickly and makes the pool of tears spill over and fall down her face.

She wipes under her eyes with one hand and covers her mouth with the other, muffling the painful sob that falls out as she becomes overwhelmed with frustration and despair over the fact that she knows she won’t come back from this. Losing Jay. Losing them. She is sure he’s going to hate her. He’s going to become so disgusted with her, he’s going to leave when she tells him and she knows she can’t not tell him.

The only thing she can do is bask in denial and hold off the heartache that she’s sure will come for a few more hours. She can pretend that everything is fine, that she hasn’t crossed a line she can’t come back from despite being pulled across it involuntarily by her Sergeant. They can still be them for just a little while longer.

She turns on her heel and leaves the bathroom, wiping under her eyes again and grabbing her jacket from the bed before pulling open the door of her bedroom. Jay looks up at her from the couch, his phone in hand, and raises an eyebrow at her and the clothes she hasn’t changed out of yet.

“Let’s just go to the hospital now,” Hailey says, slipping her arms through the sleeves of her jacket again.

“You sure?”

She nods and forces a smile, stepping toward him and reaching a hand down to him.

“Okay,” Jay says with a shrug, taking her offered hand into his and standing from the couch.

They leave her apartment and make their way out to his truck, it not being lost on him the way her hand trembles in his or how she doesn’t let go until they separate to get into the cab. When they buckle themselves in, she reaches for his hand again over the console between them.

He wants to believe it’s just because of the events of the last few days. The case and Kim and the very real possibility that tonight could have gone a lot differently if he and Kevin hadn’t found their friend and colleague when they did.

He’s not that naive though. He knows something else happened. Something big enough to scare her into bringing up marriage even though he’s definitely not against it. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had the thought of spending the rest of his life with her. He thinks about it often, but he knows there is something she’s keeping from him that she can’t find the words for right now so he won’t push her.

She said they’d talk later and he knows she needs more time to wrap her head around whatever it is that’s going on. He just holds onto her hand tightly and drives, glancing over at her every few minutes to see her staring out the window and lost in her own head.

When they get to Med and he throws the truck into park, she lets go of his hand only long enough for them to get out of the cab and for her to meet him at the hood. Her fingers twine with his once again and she holds on tightly to him.

Jay has passed the point of concern now as they enter the hospital through sliding glass doors, but Hailey still doesn’t let go of him, only holding on tighter as they walk down the corridors of the hospital. They ride the elevator in silence, huddled into a corner as it fills with staff and visitors, and Hailey lifts her other hand to place it on his arm just below his elbow. He can’t help leaning down and kissing the top of her head, pressing his lips to her hairline in a silent reminder of assurance to let her know he’s still with her.

They step off the elevator when the doors slide open a few moments later, hands still intertwined between them and Hailey’s hand holding his arm as they walk down the hallway together. When the pair rounds a corner they spot Kevin leaning against a nurse’s station, one hand tucked into the front of his vest and the other holding his phone up to his ear.

“How is she?” Hailey asks quietly as her and Jay approach him.

Kevin looks between them, his eyes glancing between their joined hands and their faces, and a soft knowing smile peeks out over his own. Because despite the horrors and the unknowns that surround them, at least there is some bit of happiness to hold onto.

“Hold up a sec bro,” Kevin says into the phone, holding it over his shoulder and then looking between the couple again. “She’s still in surgery, but they said she’s fighting, still holding on.”

“She’s been through a lot, but she’ll pull through this too. I know it,” Jay says and Hailey nods at his side in silent agreement.

“Y’all staying for a bit?” Kevin asks them.

“Yeah,” Hailey tells him. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Kevin nods and gestures to his phone. “I’m gonna head to Kim’s place. Take over for Ruze and watch Makayla so he can come down.”

“Sounds good man,” Jay says, lifting his free hand and clapping Kevin on the shoulder.

The officer gives Jay and Hailey one last look before he steps away, walking down the hall and lifting his phone back to his ear. They hear his quiet words of “I’m on my way to you” as he rounds the corner and then he’s gone.

Jay glances over at Hailey, her hold on him unwavering and the worry inside him growing heavier by the second, but he won’t bring it up here. He leads her to a small alcove of chairs and takes a seat, Hailey sitting down beside him, and he brings their joined hands to his lap and places his free hand over top of them. She leans her head against his shoulder, breathing out a quiet sigh that is quickly followed by a dragged out yawn.

He glances at her face to see her blinking slowly, fighting off exhaustion and whatever else is going through her head that he doesn’t yet know about, an unmistakable look of sadness etched across her face. He could tell she was crying when she came out of her bedroom earlier and all he wants is to ask her what is going on, but he knows he can’t do that in some hospital waiting room. They’re here for Kim. Anything and everything else can wait.

He leans down and kisses the top of her head again, hovering over her hair as he pulls back slowly, and whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispers back from beside him, squeezing his hand and his arm and not letting go.

Time moves slowly from there and Adam arrives almost forty minutes later, tears in his eyes and a disheveled mess of hair. He spots them quickly through the glass window of the alcove and walks toward them.

“Hey, any news?” He asks in a rush.

Jay shakes his head. “Before Kev left he said she was still in surgery, but we haven’t heard anything else yet.”

Adam nods slowly, pacing in a circle a few times before he finally takes a seat in the empty chair next to Hailey. He glances over at the half asleep blonde, smiling softly at the way she’s curled against her partner and clutching him with her hands.

“Is this a new development or - ?” Adam asks quietly, looking to Jay and nodding down to Hailey.

Jay smiles softly as he shakes his head and it makes Adam smile wider despite his own despair. “Well good for you guys then. It’s about damn time, man.”

“Yeah,” Jay mumbles softly, squeezing Hailey’s hand when she squeezes his fingers in her sleepy state.

Another twenty minutes pass in silence between the three until a nurse enters the alcove, a friendly look on her face.

“Are you here for the officer that was brought in? Kim Burgess?”

The two men nod and Hailey comes out of her sleepy haze at the sound of their friend’s name, looking up as the nurse smiles softly at them.

“She’s out of surgery. She’s stable right now, but still in critical condition. They’re transporting her to the ICU. Me or another nurse will come find you when you can see her.”

The nurse is gone as quickly as she appeared and they all breathe out a sigh of relief, Adam leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head lowering in front of him. They can tell by the way his shoulders heave that he’s crying as he holds his hands over his face, sniffling quietly beside them.

Hailey pulls her hand from Jay’s arm and places it on Adam’s shoulder, squeezing gently and then the dam breaks. All the worry and the anger and the not knowing where Kim was or if she was even still alive leaving the officer’s body through every sob that rips through him.

“Sounds like she’s gonna be okay,” Hailey whispers, giving his shoulder another squeeze and running her hand across his back.

He lets it all out in the safe space between him and his friends, and then lifts his head, pulling at the neckline of his shirt to wipe at his face. He stands a moment later, wiping at his face again and sniffling back his tears, and turns to face Hailey and Jay.

“Thank you,” Adam says quietly through teary eyes as he looks at Jay. “For finding her, for getting her here as fast as you did, for all of it.”

Jay nods and then Adam looks at Hailey. “And thank you for making me go home. For pulling me back from the ledge. You were right.”

Hailey smiles softly at him, nodding slowly and knowingly, as Adam breathes out another deep sigh of relief.

“I’m gonna call the others, Kev and Trudy and Voight. Let them know,” Adam tells them and Jay doesn’t miss the way Hailey flinches beside him at the mention of their Sergeant’s name.

He glances at her for a moment, but she doesn’t look at him, refusing to meet his eyes, so he looks back at Adam and gives a short nod. “You good man?”

“I will be. She’s out of surgery, still hanging on. That’s all that matters now,” Adam tells them. “It’s late. You guys go home and get some sleep. Kev’s with Makayla. I’m not leaving here anytime soon.”

“You sure man?” Jay asks, feeling Hailey stiffen beside him.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll keep you guys updated.”

“When she wakes up, tell her we love her,” Hailey says quietly as her and Jay stand to their feet.

Adam assures them that he will with a small smile and a slow nod, and then they say their goodbyes. Hailey and Jay head out of the hospital, her hand never leaving his despite the way her body froze just moments ago and she holds onto him for near dear life in the same manner as when they first left her apartment.

When they arrive back at her place after another silent drive, Hailey kicks off her boots by the door and pulls off her jacket, tossing it over the back of the armchair as Jay does the same. She pulls her hair from its ponytail and tosses the hair tie on a side table, and when she turns to face him with tearful eyes he shakes his head at her.

Jay steps toward her slowly and looks directly at her, his eyes soft as always, but full of concern maybe more so than ever before. “What did he do Hailey?”

She lets out a deep breath and runs a hand through her hair. She knew she had given herself away in that damn alcove. Hearing Voight’s name had sent a chill through her as soon as she’d heard it and she just reacted. Out of instinct or fear or anger, she can’t be sure. She steps away from Jay and moves to the couch. She sits down and folds her legs up under her, resting her arms across her lap.

“He found Roy,” Hailey spills out through trembling lips. “He found him and he - “

She stops, shaking her head and keeping her eyes down at her hands as she picks at her nails, needing something else to focus on as she lays it all out.

Jay walks to the couch and sits down beside her, sitting sideways and facing her. He reaches an arm out toward her and rests a hand over her knee. “Hailey, what happened?”

“He gave me and Adam the locations for the knock and talks that were legit. He took the red flags. Adam had to take care of Makayla so I drove him to Kim’s apartment and went after Voight,” she speaks through a croaky voice as she looks up at him, having to force herself to do so despite the tears that pool in the corners of her eyes and blur her vision. “He - he was beating him. H-he had him cuffed. We had words and fought, I pushed him back. I convinced him to bring Roy in, that we found Kim and it was the right thing to do.”

Jay stares back at her, blood boiling and his heart pounding. He already knows how the story ends. The hand that doesn’t rest on Hailey’s knee shakes and he has to force himself not to ball it up in a fist out of anger for their Sergeant. He doesn’t wanna scare Hailey, so he squeezes her knee again gently instead.

“What happened after that?” He asks carefully.

“Voight went to uncuff him and Roy reached for his gun. He was gonna sh-shoot him and I just - it was a good shoot. It was a good shoot, but no one knew we were there. No one knew Voight was there. He went off book and didn’t call it in. He wouldn’t let me call it in.”

“Where’s Voight now?”

“I don’t know. He told me to leave. To go home and I just - I came here. I - I don’t - “ she’s shaking her head, tears falling from her eyes and her heart pounding in her chest, hands shaking.

“Hey, this isn’t on you,” Jay tells her immediately.

Hailey shakes her head again as she looks back at him. “I shot him. I killed him.”

“You did that because he was reaching for a gun. It’s completely justified.”

“But I was trying to be better! I was trying to be good!” She cries out. “Like you. I wanted to be better. I wanted to do it the right way.”

It’s him who shakes his head then, reaching for her shaking hands and holding them tightly between his, their knees touching as Hailey sniffles back more tears, but they just keep pouring out from her.

“You did it the right way, Hailey. You did all of it right.”

“I’m scared Jay,” she whispers, it’s so quiet he barely even hears her. “What if something happens? What if this comes back on me? I don’t wanna pull you into this. I don’t want you caught up in it. You’re too good.”

He’s shaking his head again as he tugs on her hands and pulls her toward him. He leans back and lies down on the couch, bringing her down on top of him and wraps his arms around her. One hand moves along her back and the other cradles her head against his chest. Her entire body shakes against his, sobs racking through her small frame as she cries out against him and grips his shirt tightly in her fists.

“I’m sorry,” she cries out, her words muffled against his chest as her tears soak through the fabric of his shirt, but he just tightens his hold on her and shushes her.

“It’s not your fault. We’ll figure it out. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere,” he promises with hushed words and soft touches. “You hear me? You’re not in this alone. I’m not going anywhere.”

He holds her and reassures her until her sobs grow quiet and she hiccups through her tears as she lies on top of him, cradled between his legs and his arms. Their tight grips on one another don’t loosen as they lie on the couch, just holding onto each other.

As time passes and her cries die down, he can’t be sure if she’s just keeping quiet out of fear or panic, or if she’s cried herself to sleep. He runs a hand over the back of her head, his fingers weaving through her soft blonde hair. When he tilts his head to kiss her on the forehead, he notices her open eyes, red and puffy from the assault of tears and she blinks slowly as if she’s afraid to sleep.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he whispers, kissing the top of her head again.

He pushes himself up with one arm into a sitting position as he keeps the other around Hailey and she clings to him, almost too scared to let him go.

“I promise you, I’m not leaving,” he tells her again, his tone gentle, but firm as he brings a hand to the side of her face to look her in the eyes.

The sight he’s met with as he looks at her crushes him. Her teary eyes, blotchy face and trembling lips. He feels tears of his own form in his eyes at the way she sits all, but in his lap, looking completely deflated, unsure, just broken down and nothing like herself.

“Come on,” Jay coaxes softly.

He stands from the couch and pulls Hailey up to her feet, keeping an arm around her shoulders. She still clings to him, her arms snaking around his waist as he leads them toward the bedroom and he switches off the lights of the living room along the way. He brings her to the bed and sits her down, the look of nothing on her face gutting him. She’s completely shut down now. He helps her undress, stripping her down to just a t-shirt and underwear, and then tucks her into her side of the bed.

He dresses down quickly to just his boxers before rounding to the other side and crawling in beside her. She reaches for him within seconds, attaching her body to his and holding on tightly and relentlessly and he just holds her, shushing her again and kissing her hair, praying for sleep to come to her quickly so she can finally rest.

It’s late as Jay lies in bed still awake, unable to settle his racing mind. Hailey sleeps beside him, breathing softly and snoring lightly from all of the crying and emotions of the last few hours, but even in her restful state she still doesn’t let go of him.

He can’t sleep. Can’t stop thinking about what she had told him, what their Sergeant had done, and it makes his heart beat faster and the anger boil hotter as he glances down at Hailey. She doesn’t deserve this.

He peels her hands from his body slowly and carefully so he doesn’t wake her, and slips out of the bed. He pulls on his jeans and grabs a t-shirt, and then walks out of the bedroom. He heads for the kitchen and grabs a notepad and pen from the island to scrawl out a quick note for Hailey. He knows the chances of her waking up are high and he knows the thoughts she’ll have if she wakes up in bed alone with him nowhere to be found.

He creeps back into the bedroom and places the note on his pillow, then checks to make sure Hailey is still asleep before he walks out to the living room. He pulls on his jacket and his boots, grabs his phone and keys, and then he sneaks out of the apartment.

It’s three in the morning, but he doesn’t care as he rings the doorbell and takes a step back. He stuffs his shaking hands into the pockets of his jacket and stays planted on his feet where he stands, afraid if he takes the tiniest step forward he might start swinging the second the door opens and that’s a mess that neither he nor Hailey can afford to handle right now.

When the door opens, his Sergeant doesn’t seem too surprised to see him standing on his front porch, even at the late hour.

“What are you doing here Jay?” Voight asks gruffly.

Jay stares back at him for a single moment and then says, “If this comes back on Hailey, in any way, I’ll bury you.”

His voice is completely calm, neutral, but there’s a layer of ice in his words that even he doesn’t think he’s ever used before with anyone let alone his boss.

Voight tenses his jaw, staring back at the man in front of him and very quietly, he says, “It won’t.”

Jay shakes his head, shuffling on his feet. “You don’t know that, Hank. You don’t know that! Look at what happened with Erin. With Al. When Ruzek got arrested. Everyone who gets close to you, who tries to help you, they take the fall. Not you. And I’ll be damned if I let that happen to Hailey. You’re not gonna drag her down with you.”

His voice comes out cold, uncharacteristically menacing, and the look on his Sergeant’s face tells him his words have stuck and they have hurt and he’s a little proud of himself for it.

Jay throws another glare at the older man in front of him, shakes his head in disgust at him, and then turns around and walks back to his truck.

By the time he gets back to Hailey’s apartment, his hands have finally stopped shaking and his heartbeat has slowed. He creeps inside and closes the door behind him as softly as he can before turning the lock and taking off his boots and his jacket. He pulls his t-shirt over his head as he moves to the bedroom and slides off his jeans before he slips back into his side of the bed again.

Hailey reaches for him immediately, snuggling into his side and he wraps his arms around her as she drops her head to his shoulder. She breathes deeply against him and he can tell she’s awake.

“You saw my note?”

She nods against him as she moves an arm across his stomach and squeezes his side. “Where’d you go?”

“I had to do something,” he says cryptically and she squeezes his side again. “He’s not gonna pull you down with him.”

“Please tell me you didn’t hit him,” she says quietly, half-joking and worried.

“Not yet,” he tells her. “I just had some words for him.”

She doesn’t say anything, just tilts her head up at him and kisses his neck just under his jawline. He tightens his arms around her shoulder and her waist, and rests his chin over her head.

“It’s gonna be okay, Hailey. Whatever happens, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” he tells her again. Hoping his words will stick so she can fall back to sleep easily enough.

She reaches for his hand at her waist, weaves their fingers together and squeezes, then whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he tells her, dropping a kiss to her hair as she snuggles closer against him and lets out a deep breath against him.

“I thought I was gonna lose you,” she admits a moment later amongst the silence. “I think that’s why I said what I said. The whole marriage thing.”

“You’re never gonna lose me, Hailey,” he says, breathing in and out against her hair. “That won’t ever happen.”

“I said it out of panic at first, but - but I do want it. I want that with you. I want everything with you,” she tells him and he squeezes her against him that much closer, smiling at her even though she can’t see it.

“I want everything with you too,” he says. “Except let me do the proposal okay? I’ll make it some big gesture with lots of planning and I’ll be a nervous wreck the entire time hoping you’ll say yes.”

She shakes her head against him. “I’d say yes over takeout on the couch. I’d say yes right now.”

“As tempting as that is at the moment, it’ll still be a surprise. And it’ll be a happy one. One you won’t see coming.”

She lifts her head and stares at him, smiling a tiny grin at him in the darkness of her bedroom despite her aching body and worried thoughts, through dried tears and a blotchy face, and then she leans up as he leans down. Their lips meet in the middle, pressing against one another softly, slowly, surely.

It’s an unspoken promise that is made in the safe space of her bedroom. Their bedroom. Their home. A promise of a future together filled with a proposal and a wedding and babies and everything in between. It’s a promise of a lifetime together.

#upstead #upstead fic #upstead fanfiction #hailey upton #jay halstead #chicago pd #hailey x jay #jay x hailey

[writinglizards]

No One Else

Summary: Jaskier hates winters and he hates Yule time, especially.

How is he supposed to spend the holidays with his loved one when his heart is in the Blue Mountains, tucked away safe in Kaer Morhen?

Read on Ao3

Jaskier hasn't spent many Yule holidays with people he cares about, family or otherwise.

As a boy, he remembers a few Yules, but mostly his parents had gone off to bigger, grander Yule celebrations at the homes of other, more influential nobility, leaving Jaskier and his siblings at home. There may have been a few, insincere gifts as a child, but even those tapered off as he grew older. Then he'd been old enough for school and he’d spent...remarkably little time at home, even on the holidays. And then he'd gone off to Oxenfurt and never looked back.

Oxenfurt is more his home than Lettenhove ever was, but his Yules here are still mostly lonely. As a student, he'd been one of the few not to return home for the holidays and had spent most of them, therefore, shut up in his dorm writing and composing as if it were a normal night. As a lecturer? It's not much different, only a nicer set of rooms. There's no point visiting siblings he hasn't seen in years or spending the night down in a tavern with the rest of the sad sacks.

The only person he wants to spend his time with retreats into the mountains every winter and wouldn't stay in Oxenfurt even as a last resort. Jaskier knows, he's offered him lodgings here over the winter before and Geralt has always been quick with a reason he can’t accept. It’s a standing invitation, but Jaskier knows he’ll never take him up on it--he’s just lucky Geralt lets him stick around the rest of the year.

This year, they'd parted much earlier than normal. Geralt had been following a contract south and Jaskier had needed to be in Ellander for a festival and things just hadn't lined up. They'd parted before the first leaves had even begun to fall and Jaskier hates that he'd missed so much time with Geralt this year. After all, it's only a matter of time until he decides he's done humoring him and letting him tag along. He's lucky to have squeezed so many years out of the witcher already--each subsequent year is a gift and Jaskier is terrified of when they will finally end.

Either way, he hasn't seen Geralt since before the first turn of fall and he's missing him terribly, not that that's new at all. He always misses Geralt when they're apart, but winters are...harder. The chill reminds him of cool evenings camping under the stars, the snow always inevitably makes him think of Geralt's hair, bright in the sun, the lit holiday candles always glimmer in a way that makes him think of gold eyes in the dark.

Winters have never been Jaskier's favorite season, but missing Geralt makes them so much harder. Yule is always somehow the hight of that pain--the holiday meant to celebrate the year, to be spent with those you love--and Jaskier spends each and every one alone.

There's a knock at the door and Jaskier reluctantly uncurls from brooding in the armchair by the fire and goes to answer to find one of the attendants that runs the building. It's bizarre to have a personal visit in general, but especially on the night of Yule.

"Master Jaskier?" He's...nervous?

"Yes, Nichol?"

"There's ah...someone here to see you? We didn't let him in because you hadn't said--"

"It's fine, Nichol," who could possibly be here to see him? "Send him up, won't you?" He moves as if to close the door, but Nichol doesn't move.

The man shifts from foot to foot. "Y-yes, Master Jaskier. It's just--" Jaskier cocks an eyebrow, "he's--it's a witcher, sir." It's like being thrown headfirst into the Pontar in the middle of spring--ice cold and shocking. Something must be very wrong.

"Is he--" but there's no point in asking this nervous ball of a man about what the witcher looks like or how he is, is there? Jaskier can tell now, the fear hiding in the set of his shoulders. That’s not the disposition of someone who could be concerned with the well-being of a witcher. "Give me a moment, I'll follow you down."

Geralt's standing at the desk downstairs, whole and unharmed, and Jaskier lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Geralt!" He turns as Jaskier approaches and the look on his face brings Jaskier up short. There's...something wrong. "Geralt, is everything okay?"

"Hm." It's one of his cagey hums. Jaskier won't be getting an answer out of him anytime soon.

"Well, come on up, anyway. No reason to stand in the hall and talk." The attendant is visably relieved when Geralt hoists his swords back over his shoulder and follows Jaskier back to his rooms. Mentally, he makes a note to have a very strong word with the head attendant about sensitivity training the next time he sees her.

It's silent the entire walk back, which isn't new with Geralt, but Jaskier finds himself a little nervous about it anyway. What’s Geralt is going to think? He's never been to Oxenfurt with Jaskier, never seen his rooms, never met the people he works with or the shop owners that know him by name. It's...unsettling. And then there's the reason Geralt's here, which he still hasn't given an answer about.

The door is unlocked, so he shoves it open and ushers Geralt in. He ducks a bit as he passes Jaskier and enters the room and then he...stops. Freezes on the spot. Jaskier freezes in the doorway in response.

"What." He means it as a question, but it comes out taunt and frigid, like an accusation.

"Looks like you," Geralt grunts out after a long moment. Jaskier doesn't know if that's a compliment or not (probably not).

"Sorry, I can--" he starts, already darting forward to clean the loose parchment from the divan, stack the books laying haphazard all over the room, do something.

"No," Geralt interrupts, and Jaskier feels his stomach flip-flop almost unplesantly, "No, this is--it's nice, Jaskier. It's you." And that's...he doesn't know what to do with that.

"Oh," he laughs, just a little strangled, "okay then. Um. Make yourself at home, darling. Sorry there's no Yule decorations I'm...a little unfestive this year.” He’s never festive, actually, but Geralt doesn’t know that. “Have you eaten?" He doesn't wait for Geralt to answer, "of course you haven't. I'll call for something. Won't be more than a moment." He ducks out into the hallway again without waiting for an answer.

He spends the entire walk to the kitchen trying to calm his rapid heartbeat, walk off the nerves that have made their home in the set of his shoulders, the fidget of his fingertips against his thigh. It's just Geralt.

He orders a spread and doesn't let the curious look the cook gives get to him at all as he paces in the hallway and waits for her to finish.

"You know we could send this up for you, Jaskier? No one should have to pace the hallway Yule night." The cook says when she hands the plate over, finally. He smiles at her, only a little tightly.

"Oh, I know Margret, darling. Needed the walk, though. Thank you, love." She 'hm's at him but lets him go, something akin to the noise Geralt makes when he's not buying Jaskier's bullshit. It makes him a little sick, how much he both loves and hates that noise--it sounds wrong coming from someone else's throat.

The walk back to his rooms is both too long and too short--he's worked himself up into a minior frenzy by the time he's at his own door again.

He takes a moment to breathe, eyes closed, before he forces a smile back on his face and pushes through the door. "Food's here," he calls, setting the spread down on the low table in the sitting room. Geralt's nowhere to be found. "Geralt?"

He finds him in the bedroom, the spare shirt of Geralt's that Jaskier nabbed in a moment of weakness earlier just this year to keep him company for the winter in his hand. "Uh, I'm--I'm sorry that's--"

"I thought I'd been a shirt short." His tone is even and neutral and it makes Jaskier want to tear his hair out. Does he care? Does he not? Jaskier can’t tell.

"It, um, must have ended up in my pack. I meant to bring it back this spring." The look on Geralt's face says he doesn't believe a word. "Food's here!" he deflects.

"Mm." He allows himself to be redirected and follows Jaskier back into the sitting room, leaving the shirt on the bed. He settles himself on the divan after Jaskier clears him a spot and digs into the meat and cheese spread without a word. As far as Yule meals go, it’s not very traditional, but Jaskier’s sure it doesn’t matter. He settles himself on the floor by the table and picks at the spread absently, giving Geralt the time he needs to eat unharassed. He tries not to think about how this is the first Yule he's spent with anyone in any capacity since he was a boy and very determinately does not get emotional over the fact that it's Geralt here with him, even accidentally. He can feel his eyes on him as he plucks at a loose thread on his doublet and tries not to fret.

"Soooo--" he says after Geralt's eaten his fill and leaned back, kicking his legs out in front of him, "--what brings you here to Oxenfurt, Geralt?" He winces immediately, but he's already asked, so-- "Shouldn't you be at Kaer Morhen already?"

Jaskier can already tell he's fucked up.

"I won't stay long," Geralt says, expression blank the way it only is when he's withholding his true reaction.

"I didn't say you couldn't stay, you oaf," Jaskier snaps immediately, tries not to let his irritation get the best of him because he knows what Geralt’s like when he meets anger for frosty frigidity, "I would be deeply offended if you left, actually."

Geralt stares at him, hard. "I’d be...intruding," he says, no elaboration.

"What? Gods, Geralt, intruding on what? I'm--" he gestures to the expanse of his very empty rooms, "--pretty fucking far from busy, if you hadn't noticed."

Geralt's expression does pinch at that. "I noticed. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why aren't you--" he pauses, seems to be searching for the right words, "--why aren't you...involved? Doing things. It's Yule, Jaskier, why are you--"

"Alone?" Jaskier interrupts, seeing where this is going. Geralt doesn't say anything, just stares at him, steady. Jaskier sighs, hard. "Who else would I spend winters with, Geralt?"

"I don't know," Geralt says slowly, "I just...I assumed you had someone."

"You assumed I--Geralt. Tell me you didn't think I had some...some lover I'd never told you about waiting for me here in Oxenfurt every winter."

The look on Geralt's face tells him he thought exactly that.

"Melitele's tits, Geralt." Jaskier sighs, breathes in slowly in an attempt to calm himself. "So why are you here, then? Since it's pretty clear you aren't here to take me up on the offer of wintering with me."

Geralt's expression does something complicated Jaskier can't parse before it smooths out into slightly constipated indifference again.

"The passes are snowed in."

And that's-- "Yes, Geralt. I know that," Jaskier says, drawing on the infinite well of patience he seems to only have access to when trying to coax Geralt out of being an obtuse ass. "Why didn't you make it up the mountain before the passses snowed in?"

Geralt visibly swallows. Jaskier can't help but track the bob of his adams apple. "I--" the gust of breath is audible as Geralt sighs, shoulders loosening in something like defeat, "I missed you, Jaskier."

The fire crackles in the hearth. It'll need another log soon. "What?"

Geralt looks like he'd rather be hunting drowners. "I missed you, Jaskier. And I was--I was thinking about coming to see you but I--I couldn't, I wasn't sure--" Jaskier will not faint like some kind of wilting damsel, even if he feels as if he can't get enough air all of a sudden. "--And then the pass was closed and I. I don't--I won't stay if you don't want me to. I'll figure something out."

"Geralt," Jaskier says. It comes out barely audable and he has to clear his throat and try again, "Geralt, love, of course you can stay." Something in Geralt's posture loosens in relief this time, as if he'd still been afraid Jaskier might ask him to leave until that moment, "of course you can. I missed you too."

Something flashes in Geralt's eyes, something that looks a little like surprise. "Oh."

They tip-toe around each other the rest of the evening. Jaskier helps him bring his bags up after a brief visit to Roach during which he slips her a sugar cube he knows Geralt pretends not to see. He gives Geralt space and time to get settled until his armor is off and his bags partially unpacked. They don't really talk until Jaskier realizes he's going to have to either offer Geralt his bed or make up the divan for him. And. Well. He's a weak man, after all.

"Geralt?"

"Hm?" He’s taking stock of his armor by the fire when Jaskier ambles up beside him to stand at his shoulder. He tries not to fidget, despite the nerves trying to choke him. There’s no reason this should be different from any other time they’ve shared lodgings (except of course, it is).

"Going to bed soon, love?"

He stares at his armor just a beat too long before he leans back to look up into Jaskier's face, expression mildly puzzled. "Mm?"

"I--" he can feel his face heat, "I wanted to--to offer to share. You know since I--I don't have--"

"I can sleep on the floor, Jaskier."

"No! No, I--I have plenty of room. And I. I want you in my bed, Geralt." That comes out...not quite the way Jaskier meant it. Or it comes out too honest, actually. He absolutely wants Geralt in his bed like that, he just doesn't think Geralt would want it.

Interestingly, Geralt's cheeks color and he looks away. Jaskier expects him to refuse again. "Okay," he says, soft, and something in Jaskier's chest flutters.

He follows Jaskier into the bedroom and it's...almost normal. Like sharing at an inn, except this is Jaskier's room, Jaskier's space. It's as much a choice as it is a necessity.

The shirt on the bed taunts him. He wants to wear it--has been wearing it--but with Geralt here--

He’s stolen from his painful reverie when Geralt thrusts the shirt at him, gaze averted.

“Wha--”

“Wear it,” Geralt rumbles, already slipping into bed, predictably on the side closest to the door. Something warm and bright burns through him. He does as he’s told.

The material falls to roughly mid-thigh. It fits well enough in the shoulders, but Geralt’s slightly longer and bulkier torso means it billows on him a little like a slip. It makes him feel impossibly small and it’s...nice. Even nicer to settle together, not quite touching, and Jaskier reluctantly relaxes. He's drifting comfortably but not quite asleep when Geralt shifts and tucks himself along Jaskier's side, rests his head gently on Jaskier's shoulder and it's suddenly all too much.

"Geralt," he whispers, afraid to break the spell they seem to have fallen under. They are well outside their normal playbook at this point and Jaskier has no idea how to navigate the situation, only knows he wants it to continue, wants Geralt close.

Geralt stiffens and stays still for a beat too long before he starts to pull away.

"No, love," Jaskier corrects immediately, rests his hand on the back of Geralt's neck to keep him close, tangles his fingers in his hair, "no, please stay." Geralt shivers and tucks himself in closer again, eyes resolutely closed.

"Sorry," he says.

"Don't apologize, darling. I'm--I'm happy you're here, you know? I haven't spent a Yule with anyone in a long time." Geralt makes a tiny noise of acknowledgment. He should say it, he should say it. If there's ever been a time it's now, clothed in Geralt’s old shirt, with Geralt curled along his side, the heat of him radiating through the thin material. He presses his lips to the top of Geralt's head and feels him relax slowly. His heart pounds.

"I know you're in love with someone," Geralt breathes, warm against the soft skin of the bard's throat, "I figured it must be someone you had here. But--" Jaskier's breath hitches, "there really is no one else, is there?"

"No," Jaskier says, voice just a little strained.

"Who is it?" It's barely more than a breath.

"Geralt," Jaskier sighs softly.

"Humor me," he murmurs, presses his lips to the exposed skin he can reach. Jaskier's breath punches out of him.

"It's always been you," he says, running his fingers through Geralt's hair. Geralt makes a small noise. He seems...content. Soft and quiet against Jaskier's side.

"I thought it was too good to be true," Geralt says into the dark when Jaskier doesn't think he'll speak again. "Figured there must be someone else." His chest aches.

"It's only been you since I was twenty years old, Geralt," and oh, that's a bizarre feeling, to get that one off his chest. He's very aware of the fact Geralt hasn't said it back, but...he's here, isn't he?

"Idiot," Geralt scoffs, "I should have left you behind at that inn in Posada." To the ear untrained in Geralt-isms, it sounds dismissive, harsh. Jaskier hears the fondness in it, all the things Geralt isn’t saying.

"Where would I be without you, witcher?" He breathes, feels the tears prickle at the corner of his eyes.

"Safer," Geralt says, without missing a beat. Jaskier scoffs.

"You know, traditionally Yule visitors bring a gift, not verbally berate their hosts." Geralt snorts a laugh, presses his lips to Jaskier's skin again.

"Mm, thought you might like this gift," Geralt says, spreading a palm above Jaskier's pounding heartbeat.

"Geralt, you did not wait until Yule to come to Oxenfurt so you could make a tasteless joke about gifting me your company, tell me you didn't."

"I didn't," Geralt repeats, but Jaskier can hear the smile in his voice.

"Oh, you are awful," he says, delighted.

"There's also lute strings in my pack for you," he says, "I bought them in case...well. They're yours anyway." Jaskier knows what he means. He bought them in case there had been someone else, in case Geralt had been right.

"Thank you, love," he chokes out past the lump in his throat. It's the first time anyone's gotten him anything for Yule since he was a child. "I'm sorry I don't have anything for you."

"Just you is enough," Geralt breathes into the curve of his throat. Jaskier feels fit to burst.

He may not like winter and he may not care for Yule, but this one? This one's just fine.

#witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #lizard writes #rating: general #SPITE IS A POWERFUL MOTIVATOR #thank u em for saying i couldnt finish this in three days lmao

[sweetest-honeybee]

Down to Dust

Chapter 3

Fic Summary: Grian will have to keep the dragon egg secure for the Watchers. But, they’re not the only ones who want it. On a completely unrelated note, Mumbo will have to deal with a version of himself thats only amplified by his No Killing mindset.

Chapter Summary: Grian has a talk with one of the highest ranking Watchers.

Word Count: 1365

TW: Slight degradation

Note: Aisling’s name is pronounced “Ash-ling”

Enjoy!

———————

The egg wasn’t back. Grian spent his next morning searching once more for it and decided that it was never returned the night before. While he concluded his search on the roof of his house, he cursed to himself. It was only made worse by the glowing brooch awaiting him in his house upstairs. That alone made anxiety prick at the back of his neck. He was being summoned and he needed the egg terribly.

Scar wasn’t around, neither was Mumbo. It raised some suspicion in his mind. He could spam their communicators but that wouldn't help him in the slightest. They’d only deny it further and he didn’t have time to do what he planned to do at their bases. He was needed and needed now. Watchers hardly liked to wait.

He made his way back into his base. Upstairs, the brooch was lying on his bed expectantly. The avian sighed and pulled at his hair. What if they didn’t need the egg yet, he thought. It was a possibility but how much worse would his rank get if he couldn’t present the Mistress with her egg. At this point, even he was surprised that she considered him anything remotely important to her plan.

Grian picked up the brooch. Might as well get it over with, he supposed. He pressed his thumb into the center’s amethyst and within seconds a lilac mist surrounded his feet and climbed higher until he could no longer see his surroundings. As the mist cleared, he was met with a dark room that seemed to stretch endlessly much like The Void. Unlike The Void, however, the ceiling was littered with stars. Under his feet, a large glowing Watcher’s symbol that illuminated his face under the black cloak that conjured over his small frame. On his chest, the brooch, and behind him the hem of the cloak extended for miles.

At the front of the room was a lady that towered over him by tens of blocks- although at least twenty of these were from her floating from the floor. She was elegant and beautiful, not a blemish, stray hair, or loss thread dared to imperfect her features. Although, a crystalline veil shielded the top half of her face. It extended into a sun-like crown atop her head. To further emphasize her power, she emitted a white, milky glow over the room.

It was her Mistress, Aisling.

“Aisling,” he greeted with a nod.

“Grian,” she did as well. “We have some things to discuss.”

Grian cringed internally then swallowed thickly. “Go on then.” He gestured a polite hand towards her.

“You do understand that I know what happens to the egg at all times, yes?” she quizzed. Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve lost it. Well, it’s been stolen, I should say.”

He sighed. “You do also understand that they don’t know anything about that egg. It seems much like any other egg to them.”

“It is your job to keep it from harm until we need it. If that means you inform them of its contents, then so be it,” she spoke sternly. Aisling raised her chin. “And if you’re not up for the task, then find someone who can take care of it if you’re so irresponsible.”

The builder was at a loss for words. He opened his mouth and yet nothing escaped his lips. The only thing that he eventually squeaked out was a small, “Yes ma’am.”

“Good. I trust that you will get the egg back then. We are not the only ones who want the dragon’s egg.”

“I know,” he muttered. “You’ve said that the last four times I was here. But here we are,” he gestured around himself. “I’ve got no clue as to who you’re even talking about.”

“You are not a Watcher,” she berated. “You do not deserve any kind of details after you devastated our last mission. We cannot close the portal to HelCraft because of you.”

Grian avoided her gaze, fiddling with his sleeves. “Then why am I getting dragged into this if I’m not a Watcher.”

“The dragon laying the egg was connected to your server’s End. You are not a Watcher anymore but it was the closest we could get until Xisuma invited another Watcher to his server or that he watched the egg himself.” Aisling huffed. “I have already tried contacting him, he will not do it.”

This made Grian’s face scrunch in confusion. “That’s…odd. He usually does those kind of things for you.”

“I know but it is what it is now. Trust me, I am not any happier about it than you are. But this is-”

“But this is a once in a several million year opportunity. Yes, I know.” He rolled his eyes.

She tightened her jaw. “Right then.”

The builder looked back up. “Just tell me where it is and I’ll bring it back,” he pleaded.

“It is not time for that yet. We will not require the egg for weeks, months even. It all depends on what Mistress Bain tells us. Until then, you have one task, an easy task, and that is to keep the egg safe.” This only received another eye roll. “Also, the egg is with Mumbo. He has kept it very safe.”

Grian couldn’t help but to chuckled at that despite the conversation. Aisling hardly seemed amused. “I had a feeling,” was all he said. “It was probably in a vault, wasn’t it.”

“It was,” she replied flatly. “There is nothing funny about it. Not unless you would like me to mock your lack of adequacy.” Her eyes narrowed. “I find it quite humorous.”

This brought the builder back to his previously timid state. “No, ma’am.”

“Good. We are done here then.” She turned and began to glide away. In seconds, she drifted away in a cloud of white smoke, still glowing as she had before.

This left Grian alone in the vast Void-like room. Once the dust cleared, each star slowly dimmed until he was left only with the Watcher’s symbol below him. He peered down at the brooch on his chest. It only left him more annoyed than anything, really. Not annoyed at the Hermits by any means, but annoyed at Aisling. Really, it was a simple task, all things considered. Even for someone who wasn’t a Watcher. Maybe if he could just keep it out of reach, express to Scar especially that the egg wasn’t to be played with in a way that would get him to stop permanently, then maybe all would end well.

But, Scar wasn’t the issue, not now. Grian somehow needed to find the egg in Mumbo’s possession which, like he mentioned before, was likely in some kind of vault. Well, “it was”, as Aisling said. That meant that he removed it. The builder groaned aloud in disdain.

“Of course,” he said. He waved his hand in a figure eight in front of himself, summoning the purple mist that transported him there before.

He was left with one ability left: the slowest form of teleportation anyone could have. He missed his Sight. If he were being honest with himself, he did misuse it more times than was certainly allowed. Sight and Conjuring. They were his most useful gifts from her Mistress. But, one thing led to another and eventually, after having only been a Watcher from mid-Season 6 to late-Season 7, they lost the ability to close the portal to HelsCraft.

It was humiliating.

Soon, the mist cleared and he was home. It was already late afternoon. Time goes by differently in the Mistress’s Conference Room, he remembered. The avian looked around. Nothing changed. He went downstairs. The egg was still not returned. Now he was annoyed with Mumbo, somewhat angry even. Although he was, he couldn’t really be mad, could he. It wasn’t like Mumbo knew and the Hermits liked to play little games here and there with no ill intentions as it was.

Still, he hoped that Mumbo would either give back the egg or he could spend the rest of his days searching the redstoner’s property until he did. Accusations alone wouldn’t ever get the egg back to him. Knowing Mumbo, he had to prove that his mustached friend had it in the first place and that Scar wasn’t the culprit.

If he were being honest with himself, it was likely as easy as just telling Mumbo that he was seen stealing the egg in the first place.

#long post #hermitcraft #down to dust fic #grian #aisling down to dust

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

bright lights and baseless worries - q. hughes

When ya girl is finally on a monthlong break from school, she’s able to get in more than one piece a week. I knew I wanted to do some holiday piece for Quinn, and 100% got this idea in the shower the other day and just sat down and got to writing. In my totally unbiased opinion, it’s very cute, and I’d love to hear what you think - I love reading the tags on reblogs and having y’all in my inbox!

word count: 3.3k+

“Do you want to meet my parents?” 

Your fork stopped halfway to your mouth, the spaghetti threatening to fall off the end. “Do I want to what?”

Quinn laughed, taking a sip of water as he sat across from you at his dining room table. “Do you want to meet my parents? They’re flying in after the next roadie, in a week and a half or so. They really want to meet you, but I get if you don’t want to, or you feel like it’s too soon. I’ll make up an excuse for you, say you were called into work for some big project or something that you can’t get away from.” 

You weren’t sure if there was some unspoken protocol for when was too soon to meet your boyfriend’s parents, but you were pretty sure six months wasn’t pushing it. “Quinn, I’m still in university,” you said with a laugh. “There’s no work for me to get called into. And I’d love to meet them, if you’re sure that’s what you want. I don’t want you feeling like you have to because your parents want to meet me. I want it to be because you want it too.”

“Of course I want you to meet them,” he said, smiling softly at you. “Almost more than that, I want them to meet you. Sure, you’ve seen each other over FaceTime and they know what I’ve told them about you—”

“All good things, I hope?” You quipped.

The corner of his lips twitched. “Nothing but the best. But you’re incredible, and I want them to be able to meet  you, so they get to see how amazing you are in person and don’t think I’m crazy any more for how much I talk about you, So there’s that.” 

You ducked your head, tapping your fingers against the dark grain of the table. “Well, I’d love to meet them, Q. Anyone who’s spent any length of time around you knows how much you love your family, and I’m so excited to finally get to know the people who raised you into the incredible man you are today.”

Quinn blushed shyly. “It’s going to be great.”

---

Vancouver in December had always been one of your favorite things. Vancouver any time, really, but the holiday season really let your hometown shine something special. Literally. From the first of the month, all of downtown was decked out from tree to storefront to lamppost in yards of bright, sparkling lights. And then there was the massive, hundred-foot tall Christmas tree that lit up the square in front of the art gallery, throngs of couples and little kids running up to its branches in a bid to get their picture taken. It had finally started to snow a few weeks ago, so a light dusting covered the sidewalks, giving way to the shoe prints of the hundreds of passersby. 

Downtown was where you found yourself now, wandering around on a Wednesday afternoon after you had been let out of your final, your purse on your shoulder and nothing but sheer worry in your heart. Quinn had come back from the road trip that morning; his parents were set to fly in tomorrow morning. His parents were set to fly in tomorrow morning, well under 24 hours away, and you had no clue what to get them. You had been in clothing stores, homegoods stores, souvenir shops, but were no closer to figuring out what to buy. You had been about to buy a nice bottle of wine, one of yours and Quinn’s favorites, but then you wondered if maybe it was weird to give wine at a first meeting, or if they’d look at you funny for gifting a bottle of pinot grigio when you were only 21. And it had to be something they could bring back on the plane, so nothing that was too fragile or something that might spill or anything with over 3.4 ounces of liquid. You should have thought about that before considering the wine. 

You had texted your roommates in a panic, but letting them know that i’m meeting quinn’s parents tomorrow and I have no idea what the FUCK to get them please help hadn’t yielded any particularly useful suggestions. Aliya had suggested a tie for his dad, which Sara had vetoed immediately, saying that a tie was both far too formal and far too strange a gift to extend. Sara, who was the apartment’s resident caffeine addict, had recommended a few of her recent favorite types of “artisan, hand-roasted coffee.” It had seemed like a good idea at first, with everyone and their mother getting into craft versions of every drink imaginable, but then you started overthinking it, thinking that maybe they wouldn’t like the roast, or the undertones, or it would be too bitter and they’d drink it and hate it and then they’d hate you and — 

You huffed, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes and leaning up against the column of some storefront you had spent less than five minutes in. Quinn chose that exact moment to call, and his timing couldn’t have been any more welcome. “God, I’m such a mess right now,” you said by way of greeting. 

“Everything good?” He asked lightly, but you could hear the concern laced under his voice. 

“Yeah,” you said, nodding, “but I’ve been to at least a half-dozen stores in downtown and I’m starting to get worried because I still have absolutely no clue what to get your parents tomorrow and nobody seems to have any good ideas.”

“You realize you don’t have to get them anything, right?” Quinn asked. “Seriously, they’re not expecting it, and I promise they won’t think any less of you if you don’t.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Q, my mom’s going to skin me alive if she heard I showed up empty-handed to meet your parents, but that’s besides the point. I want to make a good impression.” Your voice cracked. “I really want to make a good impression.”

He sighed on the other end of the line. “I know you do, babe, but I guarantee that no matter if you buy my dad a Rolex or show up in your pyjamas, they’re going to love you.”

“But how do you know that?”

“They’ll love you because I love you.” He spent a few more minutes on the phone with you, trying his damndest to reassure you that Jim and Ellen weren’t nearly as scary as you somehow thought they were, that they’d welcome you with open hearts and open arms just like his brothers had. The Devils had played in Vancouver the month prior, and much to Quinn’s delight, you and Jack had gotten along like a house on fire. Jack had made good on a promise he had made while he was in British Columbia, sending you a cache of Quinn’s baby photos as soon as he got back to his apartment in New Jersey. 

You slid your phone back into your pocket after ending the call, feeling marginally more reassured that his parents wouldn’t immediately demand you break up with their son if you didn’t spend the equivalent of a year’s tuition on welcome gifts for them, but nervous nonetheless and no closer to your goal than when you drove into downtown hours before. 

---

You tapped your heel nervously on the floor of Quinn’s living room, fingers nervously twisting your rings around as Quinn leaned up against the couch, glancing between you and his phone. “Mom says they’re almost here.” Quinn would have picked them up from the airport himself, but he had had a morning practice, and then they decided to get settled into their hotel room, so them coming over to his apartment before you were all set to go out to dinner was the first time either of you were going to see them. He looked at you, your brow still furrowed from overthinking. “I know you’re still worried, and I get that, babe. I was terrified when I met your parents for the first time. But you’re going to do amazing.” Your parents lived in Surrey, forty minutes away in the same house you’d grown up in, so it was a much less formal affair when they had asked to meet Quinn. You went over to their house for brunch one weekend, and that was it; Quinn was right, though. That hadn’t meant he was any less nervous. If anything, it only amplified his worries because if he wasn’t able to make a good first impression in one of the most low-stress environments a person could think of, what would that say about him? What would your parents think? But just like he said, it had been such a non-issue that by the end, he was wondering what he had been worried about in the first place. 

“I know it’ll be fine,” you conceded, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “It just seems different, somehow. Like, I’ve met people’s parents before, friends and exes and people at school, and of course I wanted them to like me. I think it’s just…” You paused, looking up at the ceiling and trying to gather your words, “I think it’s because I see this, us, going somewhere. I see it lasting. So if you’re going to be in my life for the foreseeable future, then so are they, so it just seems that much more important that I like them and that they like me.” 

Quinn bent over, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Don’t worry.” The doorbell rung, and you took the thirty seconds it took for Quinn to go over and open it to turn your phone on, checking in the camera to make sure you didn’t have a piece of kale stuck in your teeth. You didn’t, but you really should have known better. Quinn would have told you. 

You stood up, plastering a smile on your face as he pulled the door open and his parents stepped into the entryway. His dad had just hugged him when his mom pulled him in, rubbing his back as she greeted him. “So good to see you, Quinn, Chag sameach.”

“Chag sameach, Mom,” Quinn said back, before stepping back and nodding to you. You stepped forward hesitantly, Quinn’s warm hand on the small of your back quelling your fears as much as he could. 

He had barely opened his mouth to introduce you before his mom burst forward. “Is this her?” 

You relaxed slightly, nodding. “In the flesh. So nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Weinberg-Hughes.”

She waved you off. “Ellen, seriously. Don’t worry about it. It’s so nice to finally get to see you in person!” She pulled you into a hug that looked just as heartfelt as the one she had given her son, and it only took a few seconds for you to relax into her touch. 

“Jim,” his dad greeted you with a warm handshake. 

You turned back towards the coffee table. “I, uh, got these for you two when I was downtown the other day.” You handed his mom a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and his dad a potted succulent, something you originally hadn’t been too sure about but Quinn had assured you his dad would love. “It’s got a travel-safe box that came with it, so it’ll be good to go on the plane ride back,” you said. 

His dad smiled. “Quinn told you I’m not much of a green thumb, hm?” Quinn’s eyes widened; his dad laughed. “It’s true, I love plants but I seem to somehow kill everything I touch, so this really is a wonderful gift. Thank you.” 

“Did you light the candles yet?” His mom asked. 

Quinn shook his head, nodding to where his menorah sat on the sideboard. “I wanted to wait for you.” If his mom was going to be there for the first night of Hanukkah, he was going to wait for her if he valued his own well-being. The candles were already in a box off to the side; Ellen opened them and placed first the shamash, then the first candle all the way to the right as Quinn went into the kitchen for a lighter, coming out a second later. You made to move out of the room, unsure if it was disrespectful to stay. You got your answer quickly. 

“Stay,” Quinn said. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

“It’s part of the tradition that the whole family — whoever’s around, obviously, stays for the lighting. That’s you, now,” Ellen explained. Your cheeks burned, but not out of embarrassment. Out of the fact that Quinn had been exactly right, just like you knew he would be, just like he had told you he would be. His parents welcomed you quicker than your own best friend’s had, and five minutes after meeting them in person for the first time his mom had already all but called you family. You were giddy inside. You perched on the couch as she and Quinn recited the Hebrew blessings, a soft smile on your face as you watched the interaction. You knew your boyfriend loved his mom. That much was clear, from the times you were both on FaceTime to the phone conversations you overheard to the way that he spoke about her with Brock, or Elias, or really anyone who would listen. But it was something special. 

You gathered in the living room after the menorah was lit, your heels abandoned by the door and your body curled into Quinn’s as the four of you waited for the candles to burn down. Ellen and Jim supplemented Jack’s childhood stories of Quinn with some of their own, one of which had your boyfriend groaning into your shoulder, asking his dad if you really needed to know that story in particular. Jim just laughed, clapping his son on the back, telling him that the embarrassing anecdotes were really a litmus test of sorts. “If she doesn’t run after hearing this one, you’ll know that she’s a keeper,” he said while winking at you. You stayed. 

You had a 6:30 reservation at a restaurant downtown, some place one of the other guys’ girlfriends had recommended when you sent a message in the group chat earlier asking where to take Quinn’s parents because I def don’t want to seem pretentious but like they also need to know that I have taste. He drove with his dad in the passenger’s seat, leaving you and his mom to share the second row. “Have you ever seen his freshman year roster photo from Michigan?” she asked, pulling out her phone. 

Quinn groaned from the driver’s seat. “Mom, do you really need to show her?”

“You’re so young, it’s cute!” Ellen protested.

“I was 17 and didn’t know how to do my hair yet and was so nervous for the photographer to take it that my smile looks like it was frozen onto my face.”

You ducked your head, poorly concealing a snort of laughter. “Okay, if it’s half as good as Quinn makes it seem, I’ve got to see this one.” Ellen handed her phone to you just as Quinn pulled into the parking lot; you handed it back a minute later, the grin on your face still evident as he parked the car, walking around to your side to open your door. 

Picture didn’t scare you off?” he asked jokingly. 

You stood up quickly, pressing a brief kiss against his cheek. “Not at all.”

The food was incredible, not like you had expected any less. The salmon was maybe the best you had ever had, and the crème brûlée you and Quinn shared was nothing short of spectacular. You had left the last bite for him, knowing how much he loved the dessert, but he shook his head with a small smile, gently pushing the bowl back to you. The gesture hadn’t been missed by his mom, who had poorly concealed her happiness at her son’s kindness. You headed back to Quinn’s apartment after a walk by the harbor with his parents, a little after nine. “We got you two a little something,” his dad said as his mom reached into her purse. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” you said quickly as Ellen pulled out a small, flat wrapped package.

“It’s nothing big,” she promised. “Just something we thought would look nice in here,” she gestured around the living room with her spare hand., holding it out to you. “Happy Hanukkah.”

Your face burst into a grin as Quinn looked over at the photo, his thumb moving absentmindedly over your shoulder. “Happy Hanukkah, Ellen.” You ran your thumb carefully under the seams, popping open the paper with as much precision as the moment was affording you. You unfolded it, looking up at your boyfriend. “Hang on. Is this…?” 

He nodded. “I think so.” You were looking down at a picture, set in a silver frame that shone so much you could see your reflection. But it wasn’t a normal picture, one that you’d throw up on your Instagram story or delete from your camera roll without a second thought. It was from that September, a few months after you and Quinn had started dating and the first time he had taken you to meet the boys. You had already met Brock and Elias a few weeks earlier when they came back into town for training, but it was the first night he had really let you into his life in that way, started to take down some of his walls and trust you with every part of himself. You had been curled up with Quinn on a couch in Brock’s living room, towards the end of a party he had thrown to welcome everyone to the start of a new season. You didn’t even remember what Quinn was talking about, but as you looked down at the photo, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist and your head resting on his chest, you realized that it could have been Poptarts or Disney movies or the deepest darkest secrets from the furthest parts of your soul, because it was you, and it was him, and that’s all that mattered. You didn’t even realize you had started to tear up until Quinn handed you a tissue. “Thanks,” you mumbled. You looked back up at his parents, crumbling it in your hand. “Seriously, Jim, Ellen, thank you for this. I don’t know why I’m reacting like this, but thank you for getting it. It means a lot.” 

His dad gave you a hug as his mom moved over to Quinn’s kitchen, plucking her bouquet out of a vase and walking back over to hug first her son, then you. “Don’t worry about it. If you’re half the woman Quinn says you are, and I think you’re more, then you deserve the world.” 

Your cheeks heated as they walked through the front door. Quinn gently took the picture from you, admiring it as he padded over to the sideboard and placed it next to the menorah, whose candles had long since burnt down. He walked back over towards you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. He pulled back, a wry smile on his face as your foreheads pressed together. “Do you finally believe me?”

He didn’t even have to explain his words, because you knew. Finally believe him that you didn’t have anything to worry about, finally believe him that his parents would love you, finally believe him that thing you had going on wasn’t one he wanted to give up on. Not now, not ever. Your head nodded before your words could catch up to you, spilling out of your mouth like they had always been there. “Yes.”

#hockey imagines #quinn hughes #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl writing #nhl

[thewritewolf]

Mari Christmas And A Happy New Adrien

Summary:

Lost in the aftermath of Hawkmoth's defeat, Adrien loses complete track of time and before he knows it, the holiday season is upon him. Will a Christmas visit to his girlfriend's house be just what he needs to move on?

Hello and welcome to my piece for the @mlsecretsanta event! My giftee, @lesslinette, asked for among other things, Adrienette, family bonding, fluff and just a bit of hurt/comfort and I aimed to please!

I had to do a good amount of research into French and Chinese Christmas traditions (including interviewing my long-suffering French friend - thanks @emsylcatac!), so hopefully I didn't get anything *too* wrong.

Read on Ao3

Enjoy!

Marinette 💖: You still up?

Adrien: Yeah Still not sleeping great House was always too quiet Never thought it could get more quiet tho lol Whats up?

Marinette 💖: :( Just wondering what u were doing 4 xmas Since You know

Adrien: Since father went to jail and mom died again? Haven’t thought about it Guess ive still got time to figure it out

Marinette 💖: … ..Its the 23rd of Dec Like 2am Not a lot of time left

Adrien: oh Guess uh Stay at home?

Marinette 💖: Adrien Its been like two months Youve been going crazy in there Youll just be stuck in there all by yourself Why don’t you come over?

Adrien: I don’t know… I don’t want to bring anyone down Or ruin anyone’s christmas

Marinette 💖: Adrien ‘Kindest Boy in Paris’ Agreste

Adrien: Oh no she used my middle name

Marinette 💖: You are coming over tomorrow And letting me pamper you And letting my family - your REAL family - love you And that is the end of that ...Is that okay with you?

Adrien: Whatever you say ma’am

Marinette 💖: Good Be here no later than fifteen hundred Let me know if I need to pick you up

Adrien: Will do

Adrien laid back down, his face lit up only by the glow of his phone and the only noise in the room being Plagg’s snoring. Putting his phone to sleep, he turned over, closed his eyes, and honestly smiled for what felt like the first time in a long time.

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

Adrien reached the door to his girlfriend’s house with a gift under one arm, an envelope in his pocket, and a weak smile on his face. The latter wasn’t because of a lack of feeling on his part - the exact opposite, actually.

It had been hard to go to sleep after their conversation that night, a swirl of mixed emotions keeping him from getting the rest that he craved. Last night wasn’t much better and he was left exhausted. He’d even been half tempted to call and say that he couldn’t make it, but somehow that only made him feel worse.

So here he was. He’d shambled his way to the car, driven himself there through blurry eyes and frequent yawns, and turned the doorknob. Maybe they’d understand if he just dropped off the present and headed home.

Well, maybe not home, but just where he lived.

The instant the door opened, a wave of hot air buffeted him. Not only did it warm his freezing face, it brought all sorts of wonderful smells on it. There were the expected scents - baked potatoes, salmon, chicken. But then was something else, something a little harder to place.

After puzzling over it for a moment, he shook his head and stepped into the house. No sooner had he closed the door behind him than he heard some voices calling out from deeper inside.

“Wait, was that the door? The family wasn’t supposed to be over until tomorrow, weren’t they?”

“Tom, that has to be Adrien!”

There was excitement in Sabine’s voice that warmed his heart, but not quite as much as when he’d taken a couple steps into the house and was blindsided by Marinette bursting out of the living room to wrap him in a hug.

“Worried I might not show?” Adrien whispered after they parted from their kiss.

“Not even for a moment, chaton.” She smiled up at him before her eyes wandered down to his arms, a suspicious look on her face when she saw the one present. “Looks like you showed some restraint this year.”

“Of course!” At her continued doubting look, he added. “Come on, I’m perfectly capable of giving reasonable gifts.”

“Last year you tried to give me my favorite restaurant.”

“But I didn’t!”

“Only because I hid your checkbook and credit cards!”

Adrien snorted. “Details.”

Rolling her eyes, Marinette tugged on his coat sleeve. “Follow me, you ridiculous man. You can put your gifts under the tree, we’ll open them tomorrow.”

She led him into the living room, where their Christmas tree had been set up in all its glory. There were red paper chains wrapped all around it and a huge variety of homemade ornaments - including a few that he’d made in years past. Ever since he and Marinette had started dating, he’d been welcomed into their household with open arms. And even before that, they’d been nothing but kind to him.

His eyes poured over the tree, looking for one specific ornament. It didn’t take him long to find it - with its poor quality, it stood out among the beautiful glass orbs and painted baubles. His fingers brushed over the patches of glitter, a nostalgic smile spreading across his face as he took in the patterns of melted wax inside it. His first ornament. They’d barely been dating a few months when he’d made that one.

Had it really been four years already?

Arms wrapped around him from the side and he looked down at Marinette’s chin resting on his shoulder, peering up at him with big blue eyes.

“What’re you thinking about, hot stuff?”

“Old memories, that’s all.”

“Hmm…” She leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You just about ready to make some new ones?”

“With you? Always.”

“You two want to come in and help us finish cooking dinner?” They both jumped when Sabine’s voice reached them.

Blushing, Marinette reluctantly let Adrien go and headed toward the kitchen. “Coming, maman!”

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

A few hours later and the four of them were seated around the dining room table. Some things had been moved around from what Adrien remembered from the usual arrangement, and a long table had been set up. Most of the spaces were empty - with the four of them, only about a third of the table was occupied. But while the chairs were mostly left bare, the table was not.

Even though he had helped make some of it, Adrien was still amazed at how good the food all looked when laid out on the table like this.

Most of it was pretty traditional, at least from what he knew. A lot of the time his experience with Christmas dinners were meals allowed to grow cold until he gave up on his father showing. But the roasted chicken was still steaming when they cut into it, the smoked salmon and toast still holding the heat of the oven on them. Add in the gratin dauphinois and this was just about the ideal Christmas dinner he could imagine.

Naturally, it got even better with Sabine’s contribution - spring rolls.

As Adrien shoveled them onto his plate, he asked Sabine, “Is this the only Chinese dish for today, maman?”

“Just you wait, dear.” She smiled over her plate. “Today was Tom’s turn to make dinner. Tomorrow will be mine and you’ll definitely have your fill then.”

“I can’t wait!” Adrien took some of the chestnut sauce to pour over his chicken. Which reminded him… He glanced nervously toward the oven. “I don’t suppose you made foie gras, did you?”

Marinette made a face and shivered.

Tom quickly shook his head. “Oh no, son. Back when Marinette was… what? Eight, nine? She found out how it was made and made us promise to never have it again.”

“Eleven years later and we haven’t broken that promise yet,” Sabine finished. “There are plenty of other foods in the world.”

“That’s good.” Adrien breathed a sigh of relief. “It always made me uncomfortable when my father ordered it.”

“Ordered, dear?” Sabine gave him a confused look.

“Oh, we never really cooked our own dinners.”

Tom’s jaw dropped. “Not even Christmas dinner?”

“Nope. Sometimes he’d have to order the dinner prepared the day before and then we’d reheat it the day of, since no one wanted to come into work on Christmas day, you know?”

“I see…” Tom shared a look with Sabine, but the meaning was lost on Adrien. “Well, you make sure you have your fill, son! We’ll be making more for tomorrow, so this is all for us.”

“Thanks,” Adrien said with a grateful smile.

The conversation meandered and for the most part Adrien was just content to listen in, drinking in the company after spending so much of his time recently just by himself. Well, mostly by himself. Marinette would visit whenever she could get the time between college classes and internships. Nino and Alya were more elusive, if only because they were outside the city so often these days.

But there was one person who was his constant companion, Adrien thought with a smile as he peeked into the breast pocket of his T-shirt…

...Only to see that it was empty. Maybe he’d gone to visit Tikki and the kwamis of the miracle box? Adrien was drawn out of his thoughts when Sabine directed a question at him.

“Are you ready for the pre-dessert snacks, dear?”

“Oh! Sure, yeah. What do you have?”

“You’ll love it!” Tom excitedly got up and hustled over to the kitchen, Sabine right behind him. He raised his voice to be heard as he went to the room next door. “We know how much you love camembert so…”

Adrien’s eyes widened. They didn’t…

Tom returned with a platter of cheeses in his hands and a frown on his lips.

“Something wrong, papa?” Marinette’s eyes glanced between Tom and the cheese platter.

“No, no… its just… I could have sworn I bought more cheese than this. And I was so sure that I had purchased camembert.” He rubbed his chin. “Ah well, there is more than enough for the three of us anyway.”

While Sabine set down a large bowl of salad in the middle of the table, Adrien glanced at Marinette. At his side, Marinette was biting her lips and pointedly staring into the middle distance, trying her hardest not to laugh. For his part, Adrien was frustrated that he couldn’t go anywhere without Plagg making a noticeable dent in the food supply.

His annoyance with Plagg was so great he almost didn’t enjoy the Yule Log that Tom had made for dessert. Almost, but not quite.

Once they were done with dinner, they cleared the table.

“So, how’d you like the meal?” Marinette asked as she dried off the dishes while Adrien washed them.

“Definitely better hot. And homemade.”

Marinette chuckled. “I’m glad the bar was so high for us. Really makes us feel like we accomplished something here.”

“How about…” Adrien bit down on his lips and narrowed his eyes in thought. “It was the most delicious meal I’ve had in months.”

“Ooo, now we’re getting somewhere.”

“Years even.”

“Good, good, go on.”

“I had never known food could taste so delicious until you graced me with your heavenly meals.”

Marinette’s eyes gleamed with restrained laughter, the hint of a barely contained smile ruining her deadpan. “Glad I could finally weasel how you really feel out of you.”

“Yeah you’re pretty good at that, aren’t you?” Hands still in the sink’s soapy water, he leaned over and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“No fooling around now, we still have to help put up the last decorations before we relax for the night.”

“What sort of decorations?”

“Paper lanterns and paper chains. That sort of thing.” At Adrien’s politely confused look, she added, “It’ll help make mom’s side of the family feel welcome. Plus they look pretty cool.”

“Well what are we waiting for then? Let’s kick this into overdrive!”

Adrien suddenly worked in a flurry, Marinette scream laughing as she got splashed with some of the water thrown up by his breakneck pace. Marinette could barely keep up between her giggling, but she somehow managed.

With the last fork, plate, and glass sparkling clean and put away, Marinette shook her head and dabbed at her slightly damp shirt with a fresh towel.

“You’re a dork, you know that?”

“So my girlfriend tells me.”

Adrien relished the sometimes quiet, sometimes loud evening he spent with the Dupain-Chengs. When he went upstairs and cuddled Marinette in the cozy darkness, Adrien felt only excitement for the next day

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

Morning came swiftly, but Adrien rose to meet the dawn’s first light with a smile on his lips and a spring in his step. Marinette was… a little less eager, but he managed to coax her out of the bed, eventually.

When they finally got down the stairs and made it to the kitchen, Sabine’s eyes widened and she even froze in the middle of folding one of her dumplings.

“Marinette? I’m surprised to see you up so early.”

Bleary eyed, her daughter simply jabbed a finger toward Adrien and grunted. Adrien rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled.

“I knew you’d be a good influence on her, sweetie.”  Sabine patted his cheek with a warm smile. “Now, once you’ve had some breakfast I’d really appreciate some help out here. From you especially, Marinette, since you know exactly how to do it the way I like it.”

“Can’t Tom help?” Adrien made some toast for him and Marinette, doing his best to stay out of Sabine’s way. “Not that I’m not willing to lend a hand, but he’s got to be pretty good at it after all this time, right?”

Sabine laughed and even Marinette cracked a smile. “You’d think so, but no. The man can make almost any dessert known to French mankind, but I’ve yet to see him finish one spring roll or dumpling in all our years of marriage. Just about the only thing I’m trusting him with today is the roasted pork.”

“Not even the cheese plate?” Adrien asked, tongue in cheek. To his surprise, Sabine shook her head gravely.

“We don’t make one for Christmas day. After all, everyone that is going to be here is from my side of the family and we’re all lactose intolerant.”

“Oh.” Adrien glanced at Marinette, who shrugged.

“I got lucky and got papa’s tolerance for it, I guess.”

“Huh… well, can I help?”

A few hours passed, most of which Adrien spent doing vital but unskilled cooking like stirring and kneading. Although they did let him try to fold a few dumplings. It ended up nowhere near as well done as Marinette’s, but she still gave him a kiss on the cheek for the good effort. From what he gathered, Tom had never even managed to get it to stay together.

They had just put the last batch in the oven when they heard a knock at the door, Sabine quickly taking off her apron as she rushed to answer it.

Adrien’s ears perked up when he heard a conversation in Chinese start up, but between him being a little rusty and them speaking so fast, he couldn’t pick out much.

A few moments later, Sabine walked back into the room with an older Chinese couple. Marinette pulled him towards them. Sabine put a hand on Adrien’s shoulder and introduced them.

“Adrien, these are my parents. My mother, Ling,” she said, gesturing towards the grey-haired woman currently hugging Marinette. “And my father, Zheng.”

The older man’s grey eyes sparkled with excitement as he held out a red envelope for Adrien, who just now noticed that Marinette had also been given one. He froze, eyes widening. Was he supposed to have gotten them something too? He hadn’t realized that anyone would be getting him anything, except maybe Marinette. There was a moment where he was about to decline but he took a shot in the dark and accepted.

The moment his hand touched the envelope, Zheng spoke in Mandarin, “Best wishes for the New Year!”

“Thank you very much!” Adrien replied automatically in the same language. While the finer points might escape him, Adrien was fluent in niceties.

Zheng’s eyes widened before he nodded sagely to himself. “Ahh, I see you’ve picked up some Mandarin from my daughter, yes?”

“Oh, no, sir. I’ve been studying since I was fourteen.”

Once again, Zheng’s eyes widened before he chuckled and looked knowingly at Marinette. “This one is definitely a keeper! I approve.”

Marinette’s cheeks were almost as red as the envelope, but she still smiled.

The bright, enticing red of the envelope made him want nothing more than to open it right then and there. But Adrien took a nod from Marinette, who had very pointedly left it sealed even as she refused to set it down. He chose to follow her lead as they all made their way to the living room.

While the Dupain-Cheng parents and the Cheng parents were getting settled there, Marinette volunteered them to go make some tea. Once they were in the kitchen and out of earshot of the new arrivals, Adrien held up his envelope with a raised eyebrow and curious look.

“You can go ahead and look at it now, it’s just not polite to do it right when you get it.” She carefully unsealed the envelope. “It's this Chinese tradition - good luck money for the new year, you know?”

Adrien followed her lead and found one ten, one twenty, and one fifty euro note inside. Glancing over, it seemed Marinette got the same. He was half tempted to just give her his euros since he didn’t have any need for it, but decided that might be tacky. If she would even take them at all. After stashing the envelopes away in a kitchen drawer, they came back with tea for everyone.

Over the next few hours, more and more family members funneled into the house. Adrien, used to seeing maybe four people during the holiday season, thought the room would be close to bursting after the first aunt arrived with husband and two kids in tow. But then came the uncle and his family, then the second aunt with her boyfriend and by the end of it fifteen people were packed into the living room. For some reason apples in boxes became involved? Adrien thought that was a pun but that was more his pun sense than his linguistic skill.

Before anyone could get too settled in, they finally got to opening presents. Despite his fears from the red envelope, no one else seemed to have gotten Adrien anything.

At least, none of the extended family had. The Dupain-Cheng family, however…

“Here you go, dear.” While the rest of the room was chattering among themselves, Sabine placed a package about as big as a shoebox on Adrien’s lap. Before he could react to it, Marinette had shoved a bag stuffed with packing paper.

“Let me go get your-”

Adrien felt a tug on his arm and looked down at Marinette seated beside him. “Open your gifts first and then we’ll open the ones you got us.”

“Okay, okay.” Adrien looked at the box on his lap and tore it open. He tilted his head in confusion as he lifted the fabric that he found there out of the box. His eyes widened when he realized it was an apron with ‘Kiss the Chef’ on it.

“Its for when you come over to cook with us!” Tom beamed down at him proudly. “Now you don’t need to borrow our aprons any more - you’ll have one of your very own!”

Adrien felt his eyes get misty and he bit his lips to keep himself from crying. After a few moments of pulling himself together, he managed to say, “Thank you, guys. I’m really looking forward to wearing it!”

“Speaking of…” Marinette prodded the bag she left with him.

“Right, right.”

Adrien removed the paper and pulled out what turned out to be a sweater, cream colored and decorated with mistletoes and black cats in red scarves. It felt amazingly soft as he slipped it on over his head, embraced in a warm hug that - he lifted the fabric to his nose and took a deep breath - yes, smelled exactly like Marinette. For now at least.

“Do you like it?” Instead of replying, Adrien wrapped his arms around Marinette and pulled her close to him, nuzzling his nose against her neck. Giggling, she smacked his arms lightly. “I’ll take that as a yes, now let go!”

After he pulled his arms back, he stood up and stepped between the Cheng family members and made it to the tree before heading back to the little corner of the living room that they had claimed. He passed the envelope to Tom and the box to Marinette.

“A… gift card for an appliance store?” Tom said, his brow furrowing.

“I wanted to get you an actual new stove because you’re always upset at it,” Adrien explained in a rush, feeling embarrassed that his gift felt so… impersonal compared to theirs. “But when I went to the store I had no idea what actually made a good stove and searching it up on the internet only made it more confusing and… yeah,” he finished lamely.”

He glanced up at them and felt better to see them smiling back.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Adrien! Thank you, we’ll make good use of this.”

Beside him, Marinette began opening her gift, which Adrien was much more excited for. Not because he had spent any less for it, but because that at least he knew exactly what to get.

He knew he’d done good when she gasped as she pulled out the expensive fabric she’d once stared at longingly from the otherside of a store’s window in Paris. Which, of course, meant that he was also expecting the smack on his arm from her as well.

“Adrien! This is expensive! You definitely shouldn’t have bought this.”

“Actually, you’ll remember that I get to spoil you exactly three times a year - birthdays, Valentine’s, and Christmas.” He gave her the most innocent look he could manage. “So you like it then?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You know I absolutely love it, you cat.”

“Then that’s great!” He continued with the overly chipper and oblivious tone, knowing how much it bugged her. He rubbed his hands together. “So… when’s dinner?”

-----------

After a Christmas dinner packed with Chinese dishes, they slowly returned to the living room.

Adrien sat in a corner of the room, taking in the warm and inviting atmosphere, the excitement and energy of so many people gathered together in such a small space.

Holding Marinette close, Adrien felt like he was part of a real family for the first time in a long time.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrienette #Love Square #Tom Dupain #Sabine Cheng #ml secret santa exchange #my writing #Mari Christmas and a Happy New Adrien

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 5x08-- And the détente had an end...

I did not like this episode! I had many problems with it! More under the cut...

A purple line is painted on a curb and then we’re watching footage of Wackner’s show. Question: do they only wear the costumes when it’s a low profile case? It was very noticeable they didn’t have them on in the cancel culture episode, and they don’t have them on in the Julius scenes in this episode...

Also, can I pretend that the horse and cat wearing tiara are meant to be BoJack and Princess Carolyn?  

Del is remote-watching a focus group about Wackner’s show when Liz walks in. He refers to Wackner as “your guy” and Liz replies, “Must not be going well if you’re calling him my guy.” Sounds like “why is she my stripper when she does something bad?”

The focus group is in Vegas “where the real Americans live.” The clips from Wackner’s show being tested seem to be only the most ridiculous ones. Unsurprisingly, the focus group hates the show.

And here is my first question: Why are they testing a version of Wackner’s show that seems to be exclusively silliness? I know, you know, the writers know, and Del knows that that’s not funny.

Wackner Rules is not a good title.  

I love Liz being amused by the focus group going poorly.

Why don’t people like Wackner Rules? Well, the cases are stupid—fights over barking dogs, shoes that don’t fit. They’d rather see burglary or robbery. This is silly, because while I’m sure most of Wackner’s cases are silly, we've seen a fair number of cases with a little more substance (or at least zaniness that makes them less mundane), including the one with the high profile comedian that was filmed explicitly to be part of this reality show. So is Wackner Rules, despite its cases financed by David Cord, just the most boring shit possible? And if so, why? Again, everyone involved here knows better than that.

Also is this just Del’s pet project? Is that why he is producing it, testing it, and approving it?

Liz rolls her eyes at the “wisdom of the crowd” on display. Then she shuts the laptop without realizing what she’s doing and jokes around about it.

If I were Del and my partner had just disparaged my work and then shut down my laptop while I was working, I would be furious. However, this is a bad episode of a television show and I love Liz so I am amused.  

Del goes to fill Wackner in on how the focus group went. Wackner does not care about the opinions of twelve people. (This is funny, given that he has decided he is the most important person when it comes to making decisions and also that juries have twelve people too.)

No, dear god, no, please do not make me sit through tiny office jokes again. Have we transported back in time to season seven of TGW? I hated the door slamming against Eli’s desk then and I hate the sudden addition of this “joke” to Wackner’s chambers now.  

The calendar says February 2021. Is it supposed to be February?  

Apparently, the focus group likes the court, the costumes, and, mostly, Marissa. Just not the cases.  

Marissa’s all, “well what do they want, a murder case?” and Del gives her a look like, “Can you???”

Again, the cases weren’t so silly they were boring in any other episodes and we know that Del/Wackner/Cord were meeting to discuss the best test cases for TV. So, like, how did people waste their time and energy making this obviously awful episode of TV for the focus group? No one involved is that clueless and it makes me dislike this plot.

AND RIGHT AFTER LAST EPISODE WHERE THE CASE ESCALATED TO THE POINT OF PRISON? I think that’s maybe my biggest complaint about this plot, and this episode as a whole. The last episode gave the this season a lot of momentum. Prison! Stakes are raised! Will Marissa say anything!? How much power is too much power for Wackner?! And then we get this episode, and it’s like, jk, forget about all that, now Wackner’s cases are drying up and everyone involved has zero critical thinking skills and we’re going to forget the prison thing ever happened!  

“His court needs this show. Look at Trump. He wasn’t shit until The Apprentice,” Del tells Marissa after Wackner exits. Marissa does not react to the Trump reference, which may be the low point of this episode. Does Marissa Gold want to build the next Trump!? Is Marissa Gold not concerned that someone has just suggested that the goal of her show is to make someone in to Trump!? Hello?! This is not a reference you drop casually! I would be concerned about partnering with Del if I heard this! Marissa would be too! So why isn’t she?!  

Also, this line + the “real Americans” as the target audience for Wackner’s show + the USA! Chanting at the end make me think the point here is somehow supposed to be about Trump and, like, cults of personality? I don’t really see it but I’ll reserve judgement until I see where Wackner’s arc ends up.

Julius heads to Wackner’s court to meet with Cord. He pitches them on his new firm. How is Julius going to start a new firm already? Wasn’t RL the only place that would take him? And pitching Cord on a firm with the 20% of staff that was laid off is a stupid idea, too. As Cord says, hiring the people laid off means hiring the “B-Team.” I dunno if that is actually true, but I know that Cord and anyone else who knows those were the people who were laid off will see it that way. Why is this in Julius’s business pitch? Like, is Cord wondering where Julius would get employees from? Is that a question?  

Reddick & Lockhart, Julius says, is no longer eligible for no-bid government contracts. I want to know why: is this because RL is actually STR Laurie, or is this because Diane is white? If the latter, then you’d think we’d hear a little more about it...

Why is Cord calling the Copy Coop somewhere near the courthouse in a business district in Chicago “the middle of nowhere”?  

Anyway, Cord passes on the new firm because it is not innovative and it does not disrupt anything.

Then Julius pitches the firm but with known-innovator Diane Lockhart and her client list. Cord is kind of interested. Cord cares that much about Diane? Alright.  

Julius, after involving Diane, calls her to tell her what he’s done. When he gets back to his car, he is being given a ticket for parking in a purple zone. A purple zone is, apparently, court staff parking for Wackner’s court.  

Julius rips up the ticket, then gets another ticket for destroying the ticket, and another ticket for destroying that ticket.

Wackner asks Marissa to find out how he can get out of the reality show. Marissa refuses and says she’s going to find out how they’re portraying Wackner, since the show benefits him. This is because he has “fewer cases this week than the week before, and fewer than the week before that. This court goes away unless more people know you’re here.” What? Where did that come from? I’m so confused. Last week Wackner had infinite money and a prison and was dealing with cases with settlements in the millions and famous comedians. Now his audience is dwindling and I’m supposed to care about this plotline? Thanks, but I cared about the plot you already sold me on, writers!  

Hey, wasn’t there a thread at some point in this season about David Lee bugging Liz’s office? Odds we ever hear about that again?  

Diane does not like Julius’s new firm idea. “David Lee is insisting that I stay,” Diane says, as though David Lee actually has that kind of power over her.  

Julius points out that all the other partners are threatening to resign unless Diane is replaced, and “at a certain point, it won’t matter what David Lee says.” Diane says she’ll think about it.

Julius tries to talk to Cord again and finds that his car has been towed. This scene is too long, and watching Julius get confused by shifting, fake rules feels a little too much like the first Memo 618 episode. This episode only has a 40-minute run-time and we spend a lot of it on building up this plot. I don't really get why. Sure, it’s fun to watch people act incredulous, but we already know Wackner’s court is trying to put some muscle behind its authority (violence to encourage compliance, literal prison) so I don’t know why we need to spend so much time on what feels like a lower key bizarro version of a theme we are already aware of.

Just, like, do a boring ass case of the week episode if you don’t have ideas. Don’t regress the plotting and kill the momentum.

SPEAKING of killing momentum, remember how Carmen got a stellar introduction, a few episodes of development, and then pretty much disappeared for several consecutive episodes?  

Then there’s another one of these scenes where Julius tries to get his car and more and more people enforce Wackner’s fake ticket.  

I do not like “Wackner’s City of Chicago” being on the seal. I think he'd have something more clever than that on the seal.

David Lee calls Cord in to pitch him on bringing over all of his business. This scene confuses me, because you’d think Cord would be a big get for giant corporation STR Laurie. But no, David Lee wants Cord to bring his West Coast, East Coast, and Europe business to boutique firm Reddick Lockhart. Or, at least, that’s what Cord’s hesitance suggests to me.

Cord tells David Lee that Diane is leaving and that he won’t go to a firm that is breaking apart. David Lee denies it.

THIS sounds like the Hitting the Fan score.  

David Lee insists that Liz and Diane drop what they’re doing and come up to his office. They do.  

David asks Diane if she’s leaving. She says she was asked to join another firm, and that she was told that the equity partners are planning to resign unless she resigns, so she’s considering it.

“No one is threatening to resign without my permission,” David responds. Those must be some contracts if he is this powerful...

David warns Diane about poaching clients and she’s all, they’re free to leave if they want (ah, so they’re free to leave when you’re leaving but they’re your clients and can be stolen when YOU’RE losing them, I see). Liz is irritated by all of this and pre-accuses Diane of stealing clients after what she’s already done to keep her position. Fair.  

David asks Diane what her issues are. “I’m a name partner being squeezed out of the decision making process,” she says. “And why is that, Diane?” Liz asks. “Because of my race!” Diane insists. “Because no one respects your decision to stay in your position. It is not yours by right,” Liz says.

“I’ve fought as hard as anyone here to keep this firm solvent. And I didn’t inherit this firm. I was invited in, and I earned...” OOOH FINALLY WE ARE GOING TO ADDRESS THAT LIZ HAD NO EXPERIENCE RUNNING A FIRM BEFORE THIS ONE FELL INTO HER LAP. Shame it’s a throwaway line.  

STRL’s presence both adds and removes tension here. I wish they pushed this a little further. Sometimes David Lee seems to be functioning as an outside mediator; sometimes he has more power. What’s the point of all of these dilemmas and battles if at the end of the day, STRL owns and controls everything? How much can RL really mean to them? There’s even an RL in their name that doesn't stand for Reddick/Lockhart. I just don’t understand what it means to be a name partner in a black firm when that firm is actually controlled by some giant company. The way I see it, Diane should want out of RL because she’s past retirement age and being controlled by David Lee and that can’t be fun, and Madeline et al should want out because the mandate to focus on profit over social justice is not mostly coming from Diane or even Adrian’s legacy... it’s coming from the giant power and profit hungry corporation that owns you!  

David has Diane and Liz stand on opposite sides of his desk. “Are you gonna spank us?” Liz says. I love funny Liz. Funny Liz is my favorite. But you know what I wish we also got more of? Liz’s thought process in general.

David’s point with this is that David is going to “come live and work with” Diane and Liz if they don’t figure it out themselves. I know they can’t easily get out from under STRL but Adrian did it so there’s surely a way to resign... this feels so demoralizing... I can’t believe Diane just takes this.  

As they walk downstairs, Liz says, “If you’re going to leave, there’s nothing to talk about. “Liz, I don’t want to leave this firm. And you don’t want me to leave. So why don’t we hire a partner to replace Boseman?”

(1) I like that they’re acknowledging that Liz and Diane clearly want to work together and like working together and are having this fight mostly because they have to have this fight, not because they actually want to. Pretty much nothing Liz has done suggests she actually wants Diane to step down and pretty much nothing Diane has done suggests she actually wants to switch firms. So good, that’s text instead of subtext now.

(2) Weren’t they going to hire a partner to replace Boseman in the first place? Why didn’t that just... happen then and avoid all this?  

Liz says she’ll think about it, but we all know that this is what she and Diane both want. This is where they should’ve been weeks ago.  

OMG okay I knew they had talked about it before! In 5x02 Diane suggests this strategy from the start! Why does it go away!? It’s clearly the right strategy and doing it that early could’ve prevented a lot of conflict and tension. At this point, it feels almost too little, too late. What’s it going to do other than smooth things over with Diane and Liz?  

They really are keeping the cameras rolling for Julius’s dumb parking ticket thing? Guarantee this does not make Wackner look good. As trivial as parking spaces seem, this feels like the sort of issue that would really piss off a lot of people. Maybe that would make good TV, but you want people to like and trust Wackner to keep people coming back to a reality show...  

Julius, being Julius, refuses to apologize to Wackner and make the whole issue go away. I think why this rubs me—and so many others; I have seen nothing but negativity about this episode among friends and on the internet—the wrong way is that this feels like power for the sake of power. It is trivial, self-important (“Wackner’s City of Chicago”), disconnected from anything resembling reality. That’s not to say anything else about Wackner has been realistic, but the writers have been walking a very fine line between surreal, allegorical storytelling and straining credulity. This feels so mundane and unneeded that I actually have an easier time accepting that Wackner has created his own prison system than I do accepting that he’s tried to reserve parking spaces for his staff. At least with a prison, I see the larger-than-life point the writers are trying to make.

The parking attendant tells Wackner she wants to add more reserved spaces up the street and Wackner is like, oh, good! I don’t understand! Who is this lady that just wants to enforce Wackner’s rules? Does she want more spaces because it’s kind of a powertrip to give people tickets? Why do they need more reserved staff parking when cases are dwindling? Who is Wackner’s staff? Why do they need more parking?

And like, it’s one thing when Wackner’s antics affect people who are part of his little bubble, since they all have agreed to be there. How can he just reserve street parking? Wouldn’t this get shut down in a day? Julius would NOT be the only one furious.  

Then Julius decides to steal Wackner’s book of seals so he can make it look like his ticket is paid.  

So if they have footage from the cancel culture episode of Wackner Rules, why wouldn’t they have used it? We see it here, in the editing room, so why are the cases so boring again? (I’m sorry, I know I've said this like 1000 times, but it’s bothering me so much that this episode isn’t even internally consistent.)

(This whole plot is a time-filling detour tbh. I have no problem believing Wackner Rules could be an interesting TV show seeing as how I am watching it as part of an interesting TV show, so I don’t get why we need to spend all this time on how this obviously bad first draft of the show is bad and that it can be improved by fixing a non-existent problem? Also, there are zero stakes because Del owns the show and is also the one deciding whether or not to air the show.)  

(Like, there could be a version of this where the focus group really helps us get into where Wackner’s stuff does and doesn’t translate and the changes he’s asked to make and how the fact it’s television changes the court, blah blah blah. Instead, the premise seems to be that the show is capturing what Wackner’s court was like in the days before Marissa or Cord or Del became involved, which makes no sense and is also boring!)

They’re mentioning Marissa being in the IDF again. This comes up because the re-edit of Wackner Rules is all about Marissa. This is kind of fun and meta! Marissa would definitely be a favorite on a reality show!  

It turns out this re-edit is mostly about how the editor has a huge crush on Marissa.  

I know that these tv writers know the process for tv writing and production better than I possibly could. I still do not believe that this reality show has one producer (Del) and an editor who is making executive decisions about the content of the show, and that this is for some reason happening in a mobile trailer parked outside of the court. Surely there would be meetings about what direction to take, not just a vague instruction to “make it better”?  

In case I needed more evidence that the writers did not bring their A-game for this episode, we get Diane talking to RBG, again, because apparently now there are no other ways to clue us in on what Diane’s thinking. This is just lazy.

The RBG thing worked for me in 5x06 because it felt like a novel way for Diane to get to talk out loud, and that episode that wouldn’t have worked if we didn’t have a way to see what Diane was thinking. Here, it feels like the writers are doing it because they did it before and it worked and it’s thematically connected and it’s easy.  

Doesn’t this entire scene just radiate laziness????  

I know not every episode can be great but just don’t try to do something interesting and innovative if you’re going to half ass it.  

I’m not even bothered by the thought that Diane daydreams about conversations with RBG. I buy that. I just don’t need this conversation (which feels way too much like it’s supposed to be an actual conversation for my taste).

OMG please stop talking about how RBG and Scalia were friends, I beg you, if you’re going to do this device again can you at least have a different conversation.  

So much exposition. Diane knows someone named Allegra through EMILY’s List and thinks she’ll be a perfect choice for the third partner. Diane did hear she had a meltdown, though.  

Julius gets arrested for stealing Wackner’s sticker book. When he starts shouting about how it’s a fake court, the officer is like, “As real as Officer McFinely’s death?” calling back to the last episode. I do find it interesting the police would be willing to overlook Wackner’s complete disregard for the law because of a grudge involving the law firm, and I like that choice.  

Allegra is basically a slightly more toned-down version of Elsbeth. She has a messy, rented office, and trails off mid-thought. Since she’s kind of a familiar character type, I’m not overly impressed by her, but she’ll be fine to add some little bits of humor to the office drama, I think. My hope is that they use her in small doses, because I have a low tolerance for quirk.

Allegra’s office has tons of books. I can’t see what most of them are, but she has a copy of The Nix, and I liked that book! It’s the only fiction title I can spot; the rest seems like political commentary or pop sociology/business stuff.  

Diane mentioning her RBG hallucinations to Allegra is probably a very smart way to win over Allegra.  

Marissa encourages the editor, whose crush is so obvious it’s uncomfortable, to put Wackner’s outburst in the show. The one about how Del is using the show to rehabilitate the comedian!? Why would Del air that?! How does this help anything?! If the goal is to get Wackner’s court more cases, why would this make anyone choose to take their case there?

The police bring Julius to Wackner’s court, which I have a slight bit of trouble believing (not that any of this is believable, but you know what I mean—I don’t feel like it’s logical given everything else I know about this premise) but I'll roll with.

Now there’s some ridiculous, awful fake lawyer who was “devil’s advocate” with devil horns in the last episode and David Cord is prosecuting Julius and... what the actual fuck is going on in this scene? This Devil’s Advocate man would not have lasted a second in what we’ve seen of Wackner’s court before this point—he is an obvious liar and showman who Wackner would have no patience for. And if Cord has a bone to pick with Julius, this is an odd way of showing it, because it feels like Cord is there as a familiar face and not for a story reason.  

Like, does Cord actively HATE Julius? Is... that supposed to be the point of this?

Seriously though, Devil’s Advocate would get like two sentences into his story about how Julius grew up poor before Wackner would make him stop, and if he got farther than that, Julius interrupting to ask “What are you talking about?” would’ve prompted Wackner to hold up that “cut the shit” card.  

This humor is so fucking lazy. In the worst moments of this show, they take gags that have previously been successful and run with them until you can’t believe you ever found them endearing. That’s this scene.

Also it just occurred to me when I referenced the “Cut the Shit” card that we’ve seen Wackner be able to get audience responses to his cases. Seems to me like you pretty much already have your focus group results, no? You do more of the things that make the live audience excited and fewer of the things that make them get up and leave. The things that the live audience plays along with and reacts to are the catch phrases you’re going to put on merchandise. I’m not a TV producer and this is very obvious to me.  

Instead of telling this lying lawyer to stop, Wackner instead asks the court musician to play “This is Us like music.” Make it stop. I don’t know who finds this funny but it’s not me!

Can you IMAGINE the fake reality show airing any of this? I dislike it and I know all of the players and context.

There is a shot of Del looking excited to see what’s going to happen. I’m sorry, but if Del’s instincts are this bad I just do not believe he runs a streaming service. Maybe his main role is to do the business stuff, not the content stuff? (But if so, why’s he always hanging around Wackner’s court?)

This episode is full of extremely essential scenes, like Marissa and the editor having sex as they watch footage of Marissa. Good for Marissa, I guess? This could’ve really easily just been implied. And if you really want to give Marissa more material, give her an arc, not a hookup where the focus of the sex scene is the editor dude. Or, like, just let her react to the whole prison revelation from the last episode. WHY ARE WE NOT TALKING ABOUT HOW WACKNER IS SENDING PEOPLE TO PRISON?

Liz and Allegra meet. Allegra makes it sound like it is about her book but then she’s extremely (and intentionally, I think) obvious that she’s there to be the third partner and that Diane scouted her.  

What is the point of Allegra asking if Liz has a view of Willis Tower and misidentifying the building? Presumably Allegra lives in Chicago, so you’d think she’d know its most recognizable building by sight (and would probably also call it the Sears Tower).  

Liz likes Allegra.  

Now there are a ton of cops in court and Del is loving the drama. Sure, it’s dramatic, but is this really want you want to air? Some convoluted thing where a bunch of police officers intimidate a lawyer who works at a firm that was unfairly linked to a cop killing because that lawyer refused to pay a parking ticket issued by a fake court? Who... who is this for?! What’s the angle? Who is amused by this?  

Marissa sees Julius is the defendant and jumps into action. She asks Wackner why he’s prosecuting Julius and he says it’s his job. She argues that Julius is from their firm and this is bullshit. Wackner still won’t let him go.

If Julius is from the firm and Wackner employs the firm, is Julius NOT covered under the court employee banner? Why do I even care.

Wackner acts like he’s just not bending the rules, just like Marissa wanted. I’m not interested in this enough to decide whether I agree that this is consistent or think this is actually a different scenario. I just want to be done with this episode so I can forget about it.

I imagine—maybe hope is a better word—that this episode is bad because it’s hard to write five great episodes in a row without kind of phoning one in. I wish this episode didn’t kill the momentum coming out of 5x07 but I’m hoping that it is an isolated issue and not a drop in quality that will also spoil 5x09 and 5x10.

Wackner closes the door on Marissa, which I think is supposed to be meaningful, and Marissa calls Diane down to Wackner’s court to help Julius.  

Diane and Liz both go to court. “I’m about to be sent to prison for parking in a purple zone,” Julius explains. “What does that mean?” Diane asks. “If I explained it to you, it wouldn’t make any more sense,” Julius says.

Oh so now we remember that Wackner’s prison exists. When I said I wanted more about it, I didn’t mean that I wanted it looming as a threat... I meant I wanted to explore what it meant that Wackner was promoting prisons...

Diane asks if they should call the police, “the real ones.” I like that it takes her a second longer than Liz and Julius to understand the cops are real. Liz also notes that the SA’s office won’t help either because they might be happy with anything that fucks with RL. This scene is decent. Some of the themes in here are decent. It just feels poorly timed and with the emphasis in the wrong place. I imagine the goal here is to show that Wackner is now more concerned with enforcement than with the process for trials, and that enforcement brings with it a lot of uncomfortable questions. I wish that we’d spend less time on the incredulous reactions and silliness and more time reckoning with those questions.  

The next focus group likes the Wackner anger outburst, because, in Del’s mind, they want to see Wackner care about something. Does Del have the worst judgment ever? Wackner looks invested in every single thing he does—how could anyone accuse him of not seeming like he cares? His whole thing, the whole thing that got Del’s attention, is that he pays each case the kind of individualized attention it deserves. Now he only looks like he cares if he blows up? Even if the thing he’s caring about in the explosion in question is his own reputation? Is Del trying to make Wackner into a mid-2010s anti-hero? And if so... why?

Wackner’s outburst that accuses Del of corruption is apparently so good it got an unprecedented “95%” from the focus group. Sure. Why not.  

Then Del tells him to keep doing cases “just like this” and they’ll keep the court going. Does that mean just like the ALREADY HIGH PROFILE AND ALREADY HAND PICKED FOR TELEVISION cancel culture case, or cases like the Julius case? If the first, well, duh, that’s why they picked that case in the first place. If the second, again, why?

“You and your colleagues think you get to decide when and how justice is determined. You think it is your right to make and break the rules as you see fit,” Wackner says to Julius. UM, WACKNER, THAT IS LITERALLY YOUR ENTIRE DEAL???????????????????????????  

That’s the point, right????? Please tell me the point of this is that Wackner is supposed to look totally hypocritical and like an egomaniac who thinks his own judgment should not be questioned but everyone else’s should be????????????????????????? If this line isn’t meant to be supremely ironic I... I wouldn’t even know where to start.  

“The law belongs to the people,” Wackner says, and the cops start chanting, “USA!”. What?!  

And then we cut away from this and suddenly we’re welcoming Allegra to the firm and... did I miss an entire episode or something? What happened with Julius? Why are Liz and Diane smiling? How did Diane and Liz’s conversation about Allegra go? Did the other partners agree to this? Did David Lee? This is a very big development! I need more!  

Madeline seems welcoming towards Allegra. She and another partner are still suspicious of Diane because they have seen right through this strategy. So... I guess we aren’t done with this arc yet.  

Aw, Liz has a picture of herself with her son when he was a baby on her desk.  

Diane and Liz drop Wackner as a client. It takes longer than it should for Marissa’s name to come up in this conversation.  

If you were wondering about the Julius case we spent most of the episode building up, it’s resolved off screen by Wackner releasing Julius with time served. Why? Don’t know. Did it seem like it was headed that way during anything we previously saw? Nope.  

Wackner won’t let Diane and Liz back out, saying he gets to choose his representation (does it REALLY work this way?) and also, probably more importantly, that they won’t be able to get all of Cord’s business if they piss him off by dropping Wackner.  

Wackner also notes that they picked up his pilot. I’m sorry, what? Del didn’t just decide that the series he created for his streaming platform would be straight to series? That whole little “Wackner doesn’t test well” plot was resolved by showing an episode with the COTW they obviously should’ve shown from the start and then Wackner made a total of zero changes to his behavior or attitude and now the show is a huge success? What was the POINT? Why did I just watch that?!  

“Fuck,” Liz says as the episode ends.  

I’ve kinda always thought this, but it’s worth saying again: Madeline and company should resign from the firm. BOTH RL and STRL care more about profit than anything else. Liz and Diane want to work together. Liz and Diane both take the threat of losing Cord’s business seriously. If Madeline wants a firm that’s focused on social justice, it doesn’t matter if Diane is name partner or not. Liz is probably even faster than Diane to decide things based on money, and even if she weren’t, STRL owns them! Plus, I have a feeling that Diane, her clients, Liz, and Cord are probably individually worth more to STRL than Madeline and the other partners combined. If Allegra is down to pursue profit and deal with corporate overlords too, then Madeline and the others matter even less to STRL. Just cut your losses and start the firm you want to start. At this point it won’t even compete with RL.  

Don’t get me started on this absolutely idiotic title sequence for Wackner Rules. I’m sure this is someone’s idea of a joke. If I take it seriously, then I have to write about how it is even worse than all of the things I just complained about for the entirety of this recap, and honestly, I’m exhausted.  

#tgf thoughts #the good fight

[high-warlock-of-brooklyn]

And baby I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule, let me live that fantasy (Chapter 2/2)

Ao3 LINK, Chapter 1 LINK

Chapter summary: It's time for the Hunter's Moon Ball! After the fated encounter in the Brocelind forest, Fate brings Alec face to face with the gold eyed boy once again. This time, Alec decides to have a word with the elusive Prince of Magii.

Chapter 2 Square filled: Hunter’s Moon (for @shadowhunterbingo)

Alec’s first Hunter’s Moon was, from the start, unexciting. His usually busy parents were practically non-existent for their children due to the wartime efficiency in planning the Hunter’s Moon required from both of the royals. 

Isabelle was only ten years old, and more interested in learning secrets of the trade from their old Spymaster, Hodge Starkweather. The little time she didn’t spend learning how to blend into crowds or how to obtain answers from cryptic messages, she spent it in her own personal closet. The Princess’s closet is still a thing of dreams among the servants, and Isabelle allows few in it, even though she’s more than generous to them in matters of gifts.

Alec, being only thirteen at the time, as well as a young Prince at risk for assassination during the festivities, was kept far away from large crowds. And while he appreciated being left alone for once, it had also left him incredibly bored. So when Jace had asked him to slip away from the castle to see the comet up close, Alec had taken him up on the offer after only a little of his friend’s pestering.

The castle watchtower, being the highest point in all of Idris, was understandably the best place for watching the stars. Jace had nicked some of his father’s whiskey compartment, and while Alec had only a few sips, the two had talked for hours of courtly duties and what every courtier sounded like, and tried to make a caricature of it. Dawn had come sooner than they’d expected, and Alec, fearing a riot at hand after the guards found his room empty, had motioned to leave.

On his way down, there had been this boy, hidden away in an alcove, watching the stars, feet dangling down the balcony in a dangerous decision that rivalled some of Jace’s own. Alec had wanted to go ask his name, but Jace had whispered about hurried footsteps of guards, and they had to leave anyway.

All the commotion made the boy turn his head, and all Alec remembers, crystal clear from that night, are eyes of molten gold, framed in silver lines above the cheek.

Like liquid sunlight and moonshine trapped in human form.

And now, after twelve years of searching, that boy is standing in front of Alec, having saved an innocent animal with an impressive set of knife skills.

Alec tries to ask him something, his name, which of the kingdoms he’s from, anything. But his guards intervene, Underhill leaning in to inform him about some recent development and the Queen’s orders for him to come home as soon as possible.

He catches Jace’s eyes, jerking his chin towards the crowd as a question. Jace bows slightly, a gesture meant to convey that he will take care of this all. Assured, Alec mounts his horse once more, galloping as fast as he can towards the castle.

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

“Your Majesty.” Alec courtesies as soon as he reaches the throne room, panting after running the whole way from the stables. “You wanted to see me.”

“Yes, Alec.” Maryse calls out to the courtiers and the guards. “Leave us alone. Isabelle, stay please.”

“Of course, Mother.” Isabelle puts away the paper at hand. Alec sends a quick glance towards his sister, silently asking if she knows what this is about, getting a soft nod in return.

“Isabelle tells me that the Prince of Magii has reached our kingdom.” Maryse leans back on her throne. Alec recognizes the gesture, the one he’s seen countless times during strategic meetings.

“I thought King Asmodeus wasn’t looking forward to joining us after the talk of the accords fell through eight years ago.” Alec turns to look at the Spymaster. “What changed?”

“The King has fallen out of commission. Too ill to rule. Left behind a vacancy.” Isabelle’s red lips stretch in a deadly smile. “A Prince-shaped one.”

“Perhaps the young Prince can be persuaded towards a treaty, then.” Maryse muses. “In any case, I want you both on guard.”

“Of course, Mother.” Alec nods.

“An unknown element being introduced like this….” Maryse looks between her children, “Alec, you would be running point on this. Isabelle, refer to your brother in case of any major decisions. And keep me apprised of what happens. Be on guard. If all these years of rule has taught me anything, it is that you can never be too cautious of who your allies and enemies are. Do you understand, Alec?”

Alec stands a bit taller, well aware that this will be a test for him, not just to his mother or his country, but to himself.

“I understand, Your Majesty.”

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

“Stop fidgeting, you look fine.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Then stop doing that.”

Isabelle slaps Alec hands away from where he’d been fiddling with his cuffs. After years of battlefield training, Alec feels naked without a bow in hand, or at least a sword, and his hands itch to fly to the only detachable parts in reach.

Isabelle has truly outdone herself with their outfits, Alec thinks as he smooths a hand down his jacket front. His sister looks radiant in her black ball gown, a slash of gold right down her chest up to her waist in an immaculate arc. Anyone looking at her dark ruby necklace and complicated updo might not think of her as a deadly warrior, but she prefers it this way. Even though Alec knows the truth of the sharp knives lined up in the hidden holster round her thigh, a twin to the one sitting snug around his ankle.

Alec, on the other hand, looks nothing less than a King. The navy of his tuxedo is a shade dark enough to be mistaken as black in dim light. The only splash of brightness is the gold bow tie Isabelle insisted he pair it with. He’s a shining beacon of royalty to anyone and everyone, just as he asked his sister to present him to be. If he’s going to rule, he might as well start looking the part.

The bow and arrow cufflinks however, are utterly unmatched to the rest of his outfit, at least to people not privy to their origin. King Robert had been an excellent ruler, a perfect swordsman, and a good husband, but it seemed that his perfection had trickled low when it came to being a parent. Robert had been dubious of Alec choosing a bow at such a young age, thinking it somehow tainted his skill with the sword. Alec had entered the annual championship hosted by the Five Kingdoms out of sheer pettiness, disguised himself as a commoner, and had won the prize with nothing but his bow and quiver.

Standing today before so many dignitaries holding his every movement, every word under scrutiny, Alec feels seven year old again.

“Alec,” Isabelle nudges him with her elbow, “your speech.”

Alec takes the flute of champagne Isabelle offers, clinking his spoon against it as customary. Everyone turns to face him, silence blanketing the hall like a shawl in a cold afternoon.

“My honoured friends and allies, welcome to the Hunter’s Moon ball.”

A roar goes up from the crowd. Alec smiles warmly at the Lupine dignitaries cheering for him, right alongside his own subjects.

“It is customary for the ruling monarch to deliver the first toast of the ball, but I have been informed this is a special occasion.” Alec faces the Magiis seated by a large window, the golden-eyed man noticeably missing. He tries not to let his eyes wander too much in the crowd in search.

“For the first time in more than half a century, all Five Kingdoms have been reunited under this very hall.” Alec raises his flute. “Let us start off the season with hopes of peace anew, and bonds forged in light as bright as the comet itself.”

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

The party starts full-fledged after that, everyone mingling and drinking and having fun in a way that is entirely impossible anywhere outside these sacred halls. The Law of the Moon forbids any conflict inside the hall as long as the party lasts, and the patrons seem to take full advantage of it.

“I thought the host was supposed to be inside the venue.”

Alec turns to face the owner of the smooth voice, trying to contain his surprise when a pair of molten gold eyes stare back at him. “Just collecting my thoughts.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.” The man offers a smile, turning to leave.

“You can stay. If you want, that is.” Alec wants him to stay.

“Okay.” He comes to stand next to Alec, body twisting to lean against the railing, the witchlight in the balcony casting sharp shadows on the deep golden skin. “I’m Magnus.”

“Crowned Prince of Magii.” Alec notes, half to himself, before extending an arm in greeting. Magnus returns the gesture. “You weren’t at the toast before.”

Magnus heaves a sigh. “Some news arrived from Magii. I left my father ill at home. I was afraid it might’ve been something drastic.”

“How is he?”

“He’s stable, for the time being.” Magnus says.

“I’m sorry about your father.”

“While I appreciate your concern, my father is a- complicated man, to say the least. I know you must’ve heard the rumours. We haven’t seen eye to eye on anything since I was a child. To say I have mixed feelings about him would be an understatement.” Magnus barks a humourless laugh. “Now that he’s ill, I honestly don’t know what to think.”

“He’s your family. Family is always complicated.” Alec takes a swig of his champagne. “May I ask you something?”

“What’s in it for me?” Magnus raises an eyebrow, a hint of a challenge gleaming in his eyes.

“How about an exchange? An answer for an answer?” Alec offers.

“Deal.”

“The night of the last Moon, twelve years ago. Were you in the southern alcove of the palace?” Alec asks.

“I was. And yes, before you ask, I did see you and your friend that night.” Magnus answers, eyes boring into Alec’s own. “Now you owe me two answers.”

“Fire away, then.”

“Okay.” Magnus regards Alec closely, eyes running from head to toe. Alec feels a sudden urge to squirm under the intensity of that gaze. “I heard you don’t use a sword in the battle, that you favor bow and quiver more. I’d like to know why.”

Alec smiles to himself. “It started because my best friend said mastering a longbow will be harder than mastering a sword. I liked the challenge, I suppose. But then- you know how us royals never truly lead a battle in the front lines?”

“I’m aware.” Magnus’s jaw ticks.

“It’s always the foot soldiers dying in the front line while the monarchy hangs back to strategize and secure. I suppose I wanted to be useful, even if I’m kept away from the course of action. With a sword you can only stab and kill and maim, it’s all swashbuckling. But with a bow you can aim, and know who you kill, and be aware of exactly whose life you’re responsible for.”

Magnus points at Alec’s hands. “Is that why the famed Idrisan Prince is wearing a decade old pair of cufflinks?”

“No, these-” Alec looks down at the slightly marred pieces of gunmetal, “these I won at the Five Kingdom Championship when I was nine. I wanted to prove to my father that I could be just as much of a king with a bow as I would be with a sword. I disguised myself as a farmer boy so they wouldn’t throw me out of the competition or accuse me of being played favourites.”

Magnus regards Alec closely. “You continue to surprise me, Prince Alexander.”

“In good ways, I hope.” Alec finds himself smiling bashfully, the Magii Prince returning the gesture generously.

“So, is this the ball where you try to find a suitable match?” Magnus asks, eyes suddenly faraway. “Prospects are abound. Surely there has to be someone that catches the eye of the man who would one day be king.”

“Why, do you have any suggestions?” Alec asks, curious.

“Me?” Magnus lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about marriage for love. It’s all saving the bloodline and securing a legacy. Love has no business in a palace. Or so my father tells me.”

“I’ve always known that my sister’s eldest will inherit the throne.” Alec nods determinedly.

“Don’t want any children?”

“My ability to procreate is rather limited, given my…. inclinations.”

“That’s the fanciest way I’ve ever seen someone come out as gay.” Magnus tries to hide a smile. “For what it’s worth, I’m bisexual, and do have the option. But I’d rather not.”

“You don’t want heirs from your bloodline?” Alec asks, feeling curious.

“Well, let’s see.” Magnus faces Alec. “My father was betrothed to the daughter of the most influential person in the kingdom. But after the marriage, they found out that the new queen could not bear children. My father took the matters in his own hands.”

Magnus looks away from Alec, eyes focusing on something far away, and in a way, Alec supposes he is too at the moment. “There was no love lost between my parents. It was rather like a business transaction, you can say. She was a lowly farmer’s daughter who wanted better things for her poor family, and my father only wanted an heir. She died during childbirth.”

“I’m sorry.” Alec says, voice low.

“It’s quite alright.” Magnus seems to come back to the present once more. “As it happened, Queen Lilith didn’t want to share the throne, or anything else with another woman’s child. She wasn’t very maternal, so to speak. Even so, she somehow held my father together. I was six when she was assassinated. It seemed my father changed overnight almost.”

“So to answer your question, Prince Alec, no, I don’t want to continue this bloodline.” Magnus’s gold eyes seem to light from within. “Especially with the family curse still a possibility.”

“Beg pardon?” Alec asks, confused.

“Surely you have noticed my eyes are not the most usual in nature.” Magnus makes a two fingered gesture at his eyes. “When I was born, my father said I was blessed by Sammael himself. I call it the curse of the Magii.”

“You’re descended from Sammael?” Alec chuckles. “Sammael is a bedtime story for little kids.”

“What are you Idrisans ever so fond of saying?” Magnus pretends to think the question over. “Oh that’s right, all the stories are true .”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Like a heart attack.” Magnus answers. “Only he was not so much of a dragon as a evil warlord. Though changing his form does nothing to attribute his lust for wealth. King Jonathan lead the rebellion against him. The same Jonathan I’m sure you are descended from.”

“The two bloodlines reunited under the Hunter’s Moon after a thousand years.” Alec takes a deep breath, the crisp night air slowly turning warm as dawn approaches.

“I suppose fate can sense the impending kinghood on both of us.” Magnus comments. Alec opens his mouth to say something, only to be cut off. “Please don’t insult the capabilities of both our wonderful spymasters by trying to deny it, Your Highness.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Alec answers. “Actually, I was going to propose an alliance between our kingdoms.”

“An alliance?” Magnus sets his champagne flute on the balcony railing, turning to face Alec head on. “What makes you think I’d be interested?”

“The fact that as kings, neither one of us are inclined to continue the legacy of war that our ancestors started.” Alec says matter-of-factly. “You are ready end the royal bloodline for the sake of a new chapter, and I’d like Idris to be a part of that story.”

“Tempting.” Magnus’s eyes flicks downwards from Alec’s eyes, only for a moment, before coming back up. “We’d have to negotiate the terms, of course.”

“Goes without saying.” Alec adds.

“But, I will consider this as a not-so-distant possibility.” Magnus says.

Alec smiles, satisfied in the knowledge of a possibility of peace. Another possibility jumps up in his mind, and he straightens his shoulders. It’s now or never.

“Would you like to go out for a drink?”

Magnus glances exaggeratedly between the drinks at hand. “I thought that’s what we were doing already.”

“I meant more like a date.” Alec takes a deep breath, anxiety wracking his brain piece by piece already. “I’ll even show you the secret royal wine collection.”

“Giving up state secrets already?” Magnus’s gold eyes twinkle with mischief. “What will your council think?”

“That I’m very, very gay and I really want you to say yes?” Alec smiles nervously.

“In that case,” Magnus plucks the empty flute from Alec’s hand, setting next to his own, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Magnus reaches up on his toes to kiss him, and Alec meets him halfway, eyes closed, heart pounding. The kiss is gentle, the two still testing waters. Alec never wants it to stop.

Finally Magnus pulls away. “Well, you certainly know how to keep a man on his toes.”

Alec laughs, throwing his head back, a full on body shaking laughter, vibrations of which shakes Magnus too, the latter still holding onto Alec. Alec looks back at the party through the ceiling length glass doors, his sister twirling Lady Clarissa, both radiant in their joy. Jace looks happy as he talks animatedly with Jonathan Wayland, Lady Roberts deep in conversation with them. He finally catches the eye of a member of the waitstaff, beckoning him forward for a refill for them both.

“To new beginnings.” Alec raises his glass, clinking with the one in Magnus’s hand.

“May they usher in peace,” Magnus stares into Alec’s eyes, “and love.”

Inside, a roar of clapping goes up as the sun rises and Hunter’s comet passes fully. Outside, the future Kings smile, eyes radiant in the sunshine, a new dawn ushering.

#shadowhunterbingo #shadowhunters #the shadowhunter chronicles #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #malec fics #jay.fic

[kageygirl]

also on ao3

He's not exactly certain how much vexation it would take for Geralt to drown him in the river, but by the look in those narrowed amber eyes, Jaskier is in danger of finding out.

And yet, despite the possibility of peril most dire, he can't stop giggling.

It's his face; for the past twenty minutes, Geralt has resembled nothing so much as a pissed-off housecat. Because twenty minutes ago, Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, witcher, hero, the living personification of lethal power and uncanny grace…

… fell in the fucking river.

And now his witcher's lovely face has those two little furrows carved above his eyebrows, and the muscle in his jaw keeps twitching, and every time Jaskier catches sight of it, his laughter is reignited. Which makes Geralt scowl harder, which makes Jaskier laugh harder, which makes Jaskier's impending watery demise impend that much more quickly.

Poor Geralt can't even tromp around their campsite -- not that he tromps, really, he's more sneaky stealthy death than stompy shouty death -- because his boots have been set out to dry, well away from the campfire. At least he hadn't gotten his armor wet; then he'd really be in a mood.

But he also can't tell Jaskier off for giggling, because that would mean having to acknowledge that the giggling bothers him. Geralt doesn't like to acknowledge being bothered by little things like stab wounds, let alone a blow to the pride that he likes to lie about not having. So instead, he glares, and Jaskier giggles, and the life expectancy of bards in this area of the forest continues to dwindle at an alarming rate.

Even more alarming, his ribs are starting to hurt, so Jaskier picks a tree well away from Geralt to stare at, and runs his mind through the list of composition masters at Oxenfurt, along with their most famous works, in chronological order, until the urge to laugh has been well and truly extinguished by Master Pontipax (forever to be remembered as "Poncy Pants" thanks to a generation of disgruntled students) and his interminable Conjunction of the Spheres.

Thus sobered, when he finally looks over at Geralt again, he's able to manage a much more sympathetic mien. Geralt's a bit wary about meeting his eye, but when he does, he stares back for a moment, then snorts and glances away, and Jaskier translates that into something like forgiveness for the amusement at his expense.

He takes that as his cue to cross the campsite and sit next to Geralt, who's tending to the pot of stew over the campfire. Jaskier pulls one of their bags closer and digs out the precious little packet of salt and herbs that he tends to carry, waiting for Geralt's nod to add a bit of seasoning to the stew. Geralt never asks, and won't spend time or money on such little luxuries, but Jaskier bloody well can, and will; keeping body and soul together takes more than mere base sustenance, as he's told Geralt time and time again.

Geralt never asks, but he also never objects, and it pleases Jaskier to pamper him this way, in the guise of serving his own palate. He's never said so, but Jaskier guesses that Geralt's sense of taste is no less acute than his sense of smell, and since Jaskier can't imagine those horrible witchery potions are a treat to imbibe, it's nice to be able to improve what he can on the pleasant end of the gustatory spectrum.

"Rabbit?" he asks about the pot; he'd noted the witcher bringing something furry back with him from the far side of the river, but he'd missed the details, what with all the laughing.

Geralt hums an affirmative.

"Not fish?" he asks casually, and pauses for effect, letting Geralt turn and glare at him before Jaskier meets his eyes and blinks innocently.

Geralt eventually murmurs, "Wrong bait," and this time, when Jaskier laughs, the corners of Geralt's mouth turn up, a pleased glint in his eye.

~

Some time later, Geralt retrieves his damp boots, a small square of wool, and a jar of leather wax. Jaskier flexes his fingers in little "give it here" motions as Geralt sits down beside him, and the witcher sends him a quizzical frown.

"Look, it seems only fair to assist, as your unfortunate -- " he nearly says accident, but Geralt's frown hardens a bit, and he corrects his course -- "mishap was probably my fault, somehow," he says, grinning a bit. See, we're all fuck-ups here, nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, Geralt's nose gets all wrinkly when he can't soak the waxy smell off his hands, and Jaskier's heart is feeling a bit tender tonight; he's not sure he can take another round of Geralt looking adorably irritated.

But Geralt's eyes have widened, and he cuts his chin away, a telltale that if he could blush, those sculpted cheekbones would be pink and rosy. Jaskier blinks, and then, very carefully, says, "Geralt? Was it my fault, somehow?"

Geralt remains facing away for a long moment, then shakes his head once. Instead of turning back to Jaskier, though, he faces forward, giving Jaskier his profile. "I was… looking at you," he says, and then drops his gaze to the boot in his hand.

"Me?" Jaskier repeats, and tries to put that in some kind of context that makes sense.

When they'd stopped earlier, they'd decided to make camp near a -- well, he'd called it a river, and Geralt had called it a stream, and Jaskier had said, "An ex-stream-ly small river?", and Geralt had given him one of those looks that made him feel as if he'd fulfilled his purpose in waking up that morning.

There were a few tumbled rocks that made a sort of stepping-stone path across the -- riverlet -- if one were either a very sure-footed animal, or a witcher, and Geralt had taken a sheathed sword with him to make sure nothing fangy and horrible was waiting on the opposite shore to devour highly talented but unsuspecting bards.

He hadn't used those words, but Jaskier could read between the lines.

Jaskier had filled their waterskins, and a pot of water for boiling, and then he'd stripped off his doublet and crouched at the water's edge to clean himself up a little. He'd taken a mouthful of water from his cupped hands, splashed some on his face, then tipped his head back to rub down his neck and the hollow of his throat with wet hands.

And then he'd heard the louder splash and the sharply bitten out, "Fuck," and looked up to see Geralt, up to his knees in the little watercourse, one hand braced on the boulder he had clearly just fallen off of.

When he saw Jaskier looking back, he'd instantly looked so upset that Jaskier himself had almost rolled into the water, overcome with hilarity.

"You were -- looking at me?" he asks now, and Geralt isn't, won't, but that muscle in his jaw is twitching again.

He looks oddly vulnerable with bare feet, in a way that he doesn't even when fully naked. Naked, Geralt looks like a god condescending to walk among mortals. In shirtsleeves and trousers, there's a strange fragility to his aura of strength.

Jaskier slides himself off the log, kneeling at Geralt's bare feet, and surprise brings Geralt's gaze back to him, eyes a little wide.

"Did you like what you saw?" Jaskier asks, quiet, careful, as if his heart isn't thudding in his chest, as if all he need worry about is spooking his skittish friend.

In the firelight, Geralt's eyes gleam like old gold, battered and worn but beautiful still. His eyes slip shut, and Jaskier endures an eternity until in a soft voice, gravelly as a mountain slope, Geralt murmurs, "Yes."

It makes Jaskier's throat go tight. His witcher is so very brave.

"Good," he whispers, reaching out, gently touching the hard knob of one ankle. "That's good, Geralt."

Geralt opens his eyes again, and Jaskier smiles up at him, projecting a calm at odds with the way his insides have gone tremulous and fluttery. Then he takes the little jar, and the boot that Geralt's holding, and scoots himself back against the log, dipping two fingers into the wax and beginning to coat the damp boot with it.

He can feel Geralt staring down at him, and it warms his chest, right where his heart is thudding to a different rhythm, now. But he doesn't return the look; years of following Geralt have taught him more about patience and restraint than his tutors would have thought it possible for him to absorb. He's been given a gift, and the last thing he wants is to scare off the giver. Vizima wasn't built in a day, after all. He can wait.

Then a hand drifts tentatively down the back of his head, fingers barely teasing at his hair before vanishing, and oh, the warmth in his chest becomes a miniature sun.

Perhaps the wait will not be so very bad after all.

#geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier fic #the witcher #geraskier #my fic #attempting to remember how to write shortfic #series: don't write 'em like that anymore

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

Two Points Higher | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 5380

A/N: I started binging Criminal Minds last week and I’m already on season 5... Spencer Reid is precious and my asexual heart needed some platonic fluff so I wrote it myself. 

Warnings: fluff, interrogation, mentions of murder

Having Spencer Reid show up at your office was not an unusual occurrence. Having Spencer Reid show up at your office in the middle of the night with another FBI agent on his heels was.

“See I told you they’d be here,” Spencer almost tripped over a box of records by the door with the speed of which he burst in.

“I get it, I’m married to my job,” you rolled your eyes, not looking up from your computer, “what’s up?”

“(y/n), this is Agent Derek Morgan,” he gestured to the man behind him as he spoke. Spencer pulled up his usual chair in front of your desk and started rummaging in his bag.

“If you can find a seat you’re welcome to take it,” you smiled at Morgan, who was watching Spencer intently.

“We need your help,” Spencer pulled out a stack of photos.

“Spence, I have work to do,” you chided, though you pushed aside what you were working on to take the photos from him.

“I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important. Please?”

“You’re not really asking,” Agent Morgan finally cracked a smile at your comment, “I don’t see how I can help you though, these are neat crime scene photos but I’m not in the FBI.” As you observed the images Spencer stood up again, haphazardly pulling books off of your shelves and piling them on his now vacant seat.

“You missed it. Look again,” you scanned the images again, scrutinizing every detail. This time you noticed it, pulling each image closer to your face to really take in what you were seeing.

“Those are my labels. Why are my labels on human bodies?” Spencer pulled one last book off the shelf and started thumbing through it.

His voice was soft this time, as his eyes met yours, “we don’t know.”

You didn’t normally see Spencer when he was working a case like this, something about him seemed different.

“How can I help?”

“The rest of the team is on the way. Have you talked to anyone about your collections recently? Told them how you label and research?”

“The only one I’ve talked to about it is you, but it’s not exactly an industry secret. Anyone who has looked at the exhibits has seen my labels, people just don’t usually care about them.”

Spencer and Morgan exchanged a look, then Morgan stepped out to make a phone call while Spencer filled you in on the next course of action. The rest of the team would be using your office as a field station while they tried to figure out why the unsub would make exact copies of  your labels.

“Have you known Reid long?”  A blonde woman who Spencer introduced as JJ asked.

“Since preschool,” you recalled.

“(y/n) was the only other kid in class who could read,” Spencer commented from the adjoining collections room where he was poking around for signs of entry.

“Spencer was the only other kid in class who could remember dinosaur names, we made quite the pair until he graduated.”

“You only graduated two years after me.”

“Enough to get you ahead by two doctorates and a bachelors,” you shot back.

“What’s in the water over in Vegas?” Morgan commented, shooting Spencer a look when he started rattling off the exact contents of the water and how it definitely did not affect the development of your brains.

It was already the early hours of the morning, so it was decided that any investigating would wait until a more reasonable hour. The team mostly acquainted themselves with your space, finding places to work, sleep, or follow up on leads. Even Spencer was moving around, restlessly conversing with his colleagues. You kept to yourself at your desk, busying yourself with the bone you were looking at. The research was comfortable, though the background noise wasn’t.

“You should get some sleep,” Spencer said quietly to you after a few hours, leaning over your shoulder to observe the notes you were making. It felt oddly normal, considering the circumstances.

“I’m on to something here, I want to finish this first,” you turned to the next page in your notebook.

“I’m going to go nap in the other room then, wake me up if you need anything, ok?” you looked up at him with a soft smile and nodded. He went into the break room across the hall, laying down on the old couch. You watched after him for a minute then turned back to your work. A few minutes later, JJ sat down in front of your desk.

“Do you spend a lot of time together?”

“If he’s not working with you, he’s with me. I’m almost always here which is why he knows where all of the good sleeping spots are,” you smirked.

“What are you working on?”

“We don’t have any records on this bone, so I do the research and get as much information as I can about it. My official title is ‘Collections Curator’ but Spencer says I’m just as much a profiler as he is.”

“Have you ever thought about joining the Bureau?”

“Spence tried to convince me… once,” you chuckled lightly at the memory, “I like my job, it’s a lot lower stakes than what you do. I don’t need a gun, just some research material and my brain.”

“It does seem… still down here,” JJ observed.

“Our collections are stored down here so it’s all climate controlled. These rooms were free so I asked if I could trade my upstairs office for a collections research suite. Did you know that 80% of a museum’s collection isn’t displayed? The exhibits you see upstairs are only 20% of the entire collection,” you stopped talking when you noticed a change in her expression, “sorry, I’m rambling.”

JJ smiled kindly, “I can see why you’re friends with Reid.”

“I don’t know what I would have done without him growing up. It’s easier to be a kid genius when there’s another kid to be a genius with, makes you feel less alone. He’s always been more competitive though, tougher, too.”

“Why am I not surprised you’re also a genius?”

“I try not to flaunt it, unlike Spencer. If it wasn’t for his eidetic memory we’d have the same number of degrees,” you smirked.

“He’s different with you,” Morgan had stepped into the room and was poking through your stuffed shelves.

“Like I said, it’s easier to be a genius when you have someone else who gets it. Spencer and I don’t talk about what you do in the field, but I see what he looks like when he comes back from traveling. I do my best to make this a space where he can be a genius without all the crime and someone that he can just be himself with.”

“Having a support system is good. He needs one.”

“You said he’s different with me, but he’s also different with you. His behavior is consistent with when he was trying to plan a surprise for my birthday last year, except its a stressful secret not an exciting one.”

“I need to hear the birthday story later, when this is all over. You’re good at noticing details,” Morgan commented. You noticed the way both Morgan and JJ shifted nervously.

“I have to be, that’s how I do my research. One detail can open up a whole string of possibilities, but you all know that. At first I thought it just had to do with him being in the middle of a case, I’ve only seen him a handful of times when he’s working.”

“But?” Morgan’s question was leading, they knew you knew they were hiding something.

“This is the first time he’s ever come into my office wearing his gun.”

There was a pause during which you noticed both agents’ eyes soften.

“I’m no FBI agent, but if dead bodies were showing up with museum labels specific to one curator I would start by questioning the curator. None of you have acted like I’m guilty at all. Why?”

“Reid gave us your alibi and confirmed it all in one breath. The local police still want to bring you in, but they’re having trouble finding you. Reid knew where you were and wanted to get ahead of them, solve this before you were falsely accused.”

“They probably ended up at my apartment. I spend most of my time here, but I keep that lease for storage and other things. Not many people know I practically live here. Do either of you want coffee?” you took off the latex gloves you were wearing as you stood up. They shook their heads with a murmured ‘thanks’.

They started whispering behind you as you walked across the hall to the room where your best friend was spread out on the couch. You paused as you passed him, gently brushing a piece of hair from his face before continuing on to the kitchenette. Leaning against the counter, your gaze fell once again on Spencer as you waited for the coffee to brew. He slowly stirred, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before standing up and joining you by the counter.

“You’re still working?”

“Have to make progress on my own projects while we’re waiting, before your case consumes my workday,” you bumped your elbow into him.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Hey, someone is using my specimen labels for murder victims. That’s not ok, my labels should be for museum collections only. I appreciate you telling me. I don’t appreciate whatever secret you and your team are keeping from me.”

“It’s characteristic for unsubs like this to have a fantasy… an unhealthy idolization that’s expressed in the victimology,” he stuck his hands in his pockets nervously. You thought for a minute as you poured a cup of coffee for yourself and your best friend.

“You think the unsub fantasizes about me.”

“We don’t know for certain. Two of the victims seem random, but three of them have an uncanny resemblance… and the labels…”

“Is that why you came to my office instead of just calling me for more information?” you leaned into his side, gripping your coffee.

“I can’t let anything happen to you,” he pressed a kiss into your hair and wrapped his arms around you.

“It’s not your fault this is happening. You live your life and I live mine,” you took a sip of your drink.

“You only leave this basement to buy groceries and do laundry. Statistically you’re only seen by a small fraction of people in this city and somehow you’ve been targeted by someone who’s now going around killing people.”

“Statistically, the unsub could have seen anyone who lives in this city, including me. It’s not your fault,” you repeated, “you could have told me though, genius.”

Spencer cracked a tired smile, “didn’t want to scare you more than necessary.”

“You’re a better person than me.”

“You’re smarter than me,” he retorted.

“That’s why you’re a better person. That’s how you can do the job that you do. If I had to interact with strangers every day I’d implode.”

“Spontaneous implosion isn’t possible,” you rolled your eyes at his comment. Before you could respond he spoke again, “I love you.”

His words caught you off guard, not because you didn’t return the feeling but because they never needed to be said. You knew from the way his eyes lit up when he read your notes and how he always made you another coffee when he got one for himself. You had spent practically your whole lives together and you genuinely cared about him in a way you knew was reciprocated. You considered this boy family more than most of your blood relatives. Still, with everything going on it had to be said.

“I love you too, Spencer.”

You stood with his arms around you until the coffee in your hands went cold.

“I need to make sure your friend Derek isn’t messing up my office. Sorry I woke you up,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek before stepping away. When you made it to the hallway you started walking down towards the largest collection room instead of your office.

“Agent Hotchner? Do you have a minute?” You knocked on the doorframe of the large room that the agent had set up in.

“Of course, is everything ok?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Spencer. I know he’s supposed to be protecting me, but he’s also my best friend. He would put himself in danger- he’s expecting to put himself in danger for me. With all due respect, sir, I know you’re trying to do a job but please promise me that you’ll keep Spencer safe too.”

“You don’t have to call me sir,” he said as you sat down in front of him.

“I don’t usually get myself into situations this stressful. My brain is rationalizing by flagging you as an authority figure. I know you’re not my boss but it’s easing my anxiety to think of you as one.”

Hotch looked at you calmly, a small smile on his lips, “I should have known Reid’s best friend would also be a genius.”

“My IQ is two points higher than his…sir,” it felt odd, joking with this man during such a stressful time.

“Reid is family to us too. We won’t let anything happen to him.”

“Spencer said that the unsub had a fantasy about me, and that’s why he was using my labels,” since your conversation with Spencer, your brain had been reeling for information.

“He asked that we didn’t tell you,” you sighed at his words.

“Of course he did. Now that I know, what information do you need? How can I be more helpful?”

“Reid asked you some questions when he got here,” you nodded, “if you’re up for it, I’d like to get the team together and ask you for more details.”

“Anything that helps,” your answer was definite, so Hotch rounded up the team with the exception of Spencer.

“Shouldn’t Reid be here?” Emily asked when you were all crammed into your office.

“I don’t want him… interfering. I don’t like biased research,” you told her.

“Then I guess we’ll get started. How exactly do you create the labels for your specimens?” Derek started the questioning.

“They’re printed on a specific cardstock that I get on special order. They’re all made down here, by me. I’m also the only one who handles the specimens, I don’t even let Spencer touch them.”

“Are there any other employees that work down here? Custodians, other curators?”

“What are you doing?” Your answer was interrupted by Spencer standing in the doorway holding two cups of coffee, in your respective favorite mugs.

“We’re doing research,” you spoke before any of your friend’s colleagues could.

“This looks like an interrogation,” Spencer came to stand behind you protectively, setting both cups down in front of you.

“I asked for this meeting, Spence. I want to help.”

“You should have told me,” he leaned closer to your ear, talking quietly so the rest of the team couldn’t hear. You didn’t usually see your friend this upset.

“Nobody comes down here regularly except for Spencer and I. It’s not open to the public, so anyone else needs a personal invite. Usually that’s when we’re changing exhibits, but everyone who helped me most recently has done it before. If it was one of them they would have killed before the first victim, right?” Derek nodded.

“Nobody else has been here in the last two months?” he repeated. You laughed half heartedly,

“I don’t have much of a social life. The only people I talk to are Spencer, the cashier at the grocery store, and Tim if I see him,” you added the last one as an afterthought.

“Tim?” Spencer stopped fuming by your side when your words piqued his interest.

“He teaches a museum history class at the community college in the city. They come by once a semester and tour the museum. You met him, remember?” Spencer averted his eyes from his team.

“I wouldn’t count that as a meeting,” you fought back a smile, recounting the way Spencer ran past the group of college kids as he tried not to let his severe hangover make him late for work.

“Tell me more about Tim, are you close?” Rossi refocused the meeting.

“No, just friendly. We email to schedule the tour, but it’s always professional. I see him at the grocery store most weeks, but it’s usually just an exchange of pleasantries.”

“How do you run into someone at the grocery store most weeks in a city like this?” Emily asked.

“I always go grocery shopping on Friday afternoons, from three to four. Spencer tells me I shouldn’t be so predictable but I work so much I have to schedule it in otherwise I forget. Tim must have the same schedule.”

“Have you seen Tim recently?”

“Now that I think about it, no. The last time I saw him was two weeks after the tour. He asked if I had dinner plans. That was the night we had tacos,” you bumped elbows with Spencer.

“What did you tell him?”

“I said I was making dinner for Spencer. You were all coming back from a trip, Spencer always comes over for dinner when you come home. I know I’m predictable but he’s never missed a dinner.”

“What was his reaction like when he heard you were making dinner for Reid?”

“He looked a little upset. I remember noticing it and thinking it was weird, but at the time I rationalized it. I’m not great at interacting with people. You don’t think Tim did this, do you? He’s really nice, always good with the kids. He asks a lot of questions because the kids don’t- oh God,” your eyes widened when you realized what you were saying. The office exploded in activity, with every agent moving to take action. Even Spencer moved, grabbing your arm and pulling you back across the hall into the break room. You noticed the way his hand was nervously on his gun.

“What happens next?”

“We don’t know for sure that it’s him yet. Garcia will cross check him against the profile. If it’s him, we’ll find him and lock him up. If it’s not… then we’re back to square one.”

“You seem more on edge than for it to be that simple,” you observed.

“Up until the most recent tour, Tim was able to admire you from afar. He saw you every week at the grocery store, and twice a year got to come down here to your personal paradise and see what you were doing. That was good enough for him until he saw me leaving here. That was the stressor. He suspected that we were… uh…”

“Dating?”

“Yeah. He tried to confirm it by asking about dinner two weeks later. It was coincidence that I was coming over that night. That was all he needed to kill out of rage.”

“You aren’t still blaming yourself for this, are you? Tim never asked if we were together. He never asked if I was with anyone at all. If he had this could have gone a lot differently. It’s his fault for assuming, not ours.”

Spencer put a hand on your back gently, “I’m the one who’s supposed to be reassuring you.”

As you rolled your eyes and told him it didn’t matter, Morgan stepped into the room.

“We’re heading out to catch this guy. Prentiss and JJ are staying, Garcia is watching the security cameras at all the entrances. Are you staying or going?” Morgan’s question was directed at Spencer. He thought for a minute, you knew he was considering the possibilities. If he stayed he could protect you personally, and he would also be protecting himself. If he went, he could personally take down the person who wanted to harm you and could be a good lure, but there was also a chance he would be targeted.

“I’ll stay. Keep me posted,” Morgan nodded, casting you a glance before running out.

“Now we wait,” Spencer rocked back on his heels, “will you show me that bone you were working on?” You were surprised he wanted to go back to business as usual, but maybe that was just it. You both needed a distraction from all of the chaos happening above ground without you. You went back to your office where Emily and JJ were. Their conversation paused when you stepped in.

“(y/n) and I are going to work on identifying this bone, there’s coffee across the hall if you want it,” Spencer said to the women.

“Thanks for staying,” you added, earning kind sympathetic looks from them as they stepped out.

“So, a long bone?” Spencer took one look at the fragment on your desk.

“Wow, he’s a genius,” you teased, sitting down, “here’s what I’ve got so far-”

You and Spencer spent hours researching. JJ and Emily popped in occasionally, but you were too engrossed in your work to see the amused glances exchanged between them as you bantered with your best friend. Spencer was trying really hard to keep things normal for you and this side of his genius, the way you fed off of each other’s stream of consciousness, was not something his coworkers usually got to witness.  

Two hours into your work Spencer’s phone rang, causing you both to startle.

“Hotch,” he was quiet as he listened to the agent on the other end of the line, “yeah, uh, yeah we’ll be right there,” he hung up and turned to you.

“They got him, but there was no real proof. They’re interrogating him now, they want us there to help.”

“Us?” you followed him out of the office as he went to find Emily and JJ.

“He’s not talking, Hotch thinks he might break for me…”

“Or me…” you finished the thought for him. The car ride was tense, and even with Spencer by your side you felt very out of place. Spencer made sure you were next to him even through the whirlwind that happened when you got to the interrogation room. Through the glass you saw Morgan talking to Tim, though Tim wasn’t doing much talking.

“(y/n), would you feel comfortable going in and talking to him? Morgan will be there too, he’ll keep you safe,” Rossi asked.

Before Spencer could protest you nodded and squared your shoulders.

“Of course. What do I need to do?”

“Morgan will do most of the questioning. You just need to get him talking.”

You took a breath and stepped into the room, watching the relief on Tim’s face when you did.

“(y/n), I’m so glad you’re here. This is all just a misunderstanding. I’m not the guy they’re looking for.”

“It’s not up to me to decide that, Tim.”

“You’re here to tell them it wasn’t me, right?”

“They’ve already told us everything we need to know. You’re still talking to me,” Morgan said, pulling Tim’s attention away from you.

“Then why are they here? I see the way you all carry those guns around, it’s too dangerous,” Tim said.

“Too dangerous for who?” Morgan pressed.

“For (y/n).”

“So you care about them, are you close?” you watched Tim’s reaction.

“Very, you can ask me anything about them, I know it all,” he was confident in his answer. Morgan glanced at you and you gave him a small nod.

“What does (y/n) do for work?”

“They’re the Collections Curator at the museum. They spend all of their time there, except on Fridays when they go grocery shopping,” Tim was enthusiastic in his answer, and looked to you for validation. You nodded gently, encouraging him.

“How do you know that?” Morgan leaned forward a bit.

“My class has been touring the collections suite for years. That’s how we met, then I ran into them at the grocery store and we got to talking,” Morgan nodded, pausing for a moment.

“I guess you are close. Since you know so much, this will probably be an easy one. What is (y/n)’s boyfriend’s name?” you tensed, waiting for the answer.

“Spencer. He’s tall, I’ve only seen him once,” he grumbled.

“(y/n), you can tell him,” Morgan said, keeping his eyes on the handcuffed man in front of you.

“Tim, I don’t have a boyfriend,” your words were soft. Tim’s eyes narrowed.

“You do! I saw him, that’s why we can’t be together!” he started to sweat under the harsh light.

“He’s just my friend, Tim. You never asked,” you were trying your hardest to stay composed.

“I did ask! You said you were having dinner together! He was good enough for you to have dinner with, I KILLED FOR YOU. DIDN’T YOU SEE, I LABELED THEM JUST LIKE YOU DO. I DID THAT FOR YOU. HE WOULD NEVER,” Tim’s outburst caused him to stand up and lunge across the table at you. Derek simultaneously pushed you back and pushed him down, you weren’t really sure how. Tim was still thrashing around and yelling all sorts of things you were sure were going to incarcerate him, but above the noise Morgan was able to speak.

“That’s all we need. Thank you, (y/n).”

When you stepped out of the interrogation room you moved immediately into Spencer’s arms, like gravity was pulling you into the one person you felt safest with.

“You’re ok. It’s ok. We’re ok,” he kept repeating.

“Spencer,” you mumbled into the material of his sweater. His words stopped so he could listen, “he seemed so normal.”

“I know, I know.”

“Do they always seem normal?” Spencer sighed, you felt his chest move with the breath.

“No, not always.” You felt his muscles tense as he held you tighter. He went back to repeating his mantra of reassurance as you caught sight of two police officers escorting Tim out of the interrogation room.

“Reid, Hotch wants to see you,” Emily approached the two of you once the room had cleared.

“Go, I’m alright,” you told him, stepping out of his embrace. He kissed the top of your head before leaving you alone with Emily.

“You did a great job in there,” she said as you walked back to the bullpen.

“It didn’t feel like it,” you told her honestly, “I’ve known Tim for years, he was always so nice to me. He never seemed…capable… but the way he yelled…”

“I know. It’s over now, though. Is there anything we can get for you? Coffee?” you sat down at Spencer’s desk, feeling exhaustion wash over you.

“No, thanks. I think I’m just going to go back to the museum. I have some work there that needs some attention. Do you think Spencer could drive me? I’m not awake enough to take public transportation.”

“I’m driving, but we’re not going to the museum,” Spencer loped over from Hotch’s office, grabbing his jacket and bag from the back of his chair.

“What? Why not?”

“You’re coming back to my apartment. Hotch’s orders, you’re not allowed to argue.”

As much as you wanted to, you decided not to put up a fight and instead got into the Bureau vehicle with your best friend. It was quiet as he drove, you wanted to say something but you didn’t know what the right words would be to describe how thankful you were to have him in your life. The silence continued until you were inside, when Spencer offered you something to eat.

“Are you sure?” he asked from the kitchen when you declined. You were by his bookshelves, running your finger down the spines of the many books he owned. Even though most of the time you spent with Spencer was in the museum, you had been to his apartment before on multiple occasions. You had never been there long enough to read his large collection of books, though you wished you had the time because you always trusted Spencer’s book recommendations.

“I’m sure. Thanks, though,” you paused to pull a Chaucer book off the shelf, “why did Hotch want me to come home with you?”

“He wanted you somewhere safe and comfortable, where you can process what happened without being completely alone. I know you wanted to go back to the museum but I also know what you’re like when you’re working and going back to work isn’t going to help you process what just happened. I thought coming here would give you a chance to eat and sleep,” he took the book out of your hands and put it back in its place.

“Is it that obvious?” you were having a hard time keeping your eyelids open. Spencer laughed lightly.

“It is, you should get some rest. I’ll be right out here, I have to finish this report,” he gestured to the folder he had brought home. You nodded, padding over to the bedroom. As soon as you crossed the threshold you could feel your distance from Spencer, who was leaning against the counter scratching away at the file with a pen.

“Spencer?” he turned to you quickly, his eyebrows mashing together in concern.

“Is that report kitchen specific, or could you do it in here?” his face softened. He left the file abandoned where it was on the counter as he rushed over to you. He helped you into bed, before sitting at the opposite end and settling by your feet.

“I’m not going anywhere, you’re safe now,” he put a hand on your leg. The pressure was reassuring, to say the least, and you found yourself easily slipping into sleep underneath Spencer’s quilt.

When you woke, Spencer was still at the end of the bed with a book in his hands. His feet, clad in mismatched socks, were crossed by your shoulder. You gently prodded at his foot, causing him to twitch and look up from what he was reading.

“You’re awake,” he smiled, putting the book down beside him. You sat up and stretched out your arms.

“You’re still here,” you smirked.

“It’s my apartment,” his quip was light and gentle.

“You’re right, I should get back to the museum,” you started to get up, but Spencer put a hand on your foot.

“Stay here for a while. You work too much, some time off would be good for you.”

“You work just as much as I do, genius. I’m not going to loiter in your apartment while you’re off fighting crime.”

“Hotch is letting me stay home for a few days. If an urgent case comes up I’ll help remotely, but I’m not leaving you.”

“Spence, you don’t have to-“

“I want to, (y/n). You’re my best friend who just went through a traumatic experience. Your family is 2,431 miles away, but even if they were closer you wouldn’t spend time with them. You said it yourself, I’m the only one you talk to regularly. I’m not going to abandon you now.”

“Haven’t we talked about you profiling me?” Spencer blushed.

“That wasn’t a profile, just information.”

“Sure,” you yawned.

“Go back to sleep, you still have some catching up to do.”

“You’re keeping track?” you asked, though you laid back down to get more comfortable.

“It’s simple subtraction, (y/n). I don’t need a PhD in mathematics to know you have slept far less than is healthy for the last three days,” he picked up the book again, finding the place where he left off.

“What are you reading?” his eyes flickered up to meet yours again.

“Dickens, Great Expectations.”

“You’ve read that one before,” you commented, surprised he didn’t have more to say on the subject.

“I have. I thought you might like it, I was just passing the time while you were sleeping. I can read it to you, if you want. It always made me feel better when my mom read to me.”

“I’d really like that,” you settled deeper into the pillow, listening to your friend’s voice as you drifted off to sleep. For the first time since Spencer had burst into your office, you finally felt content.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #platonic imagine #platonic fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[popculturebuffet]

Of Moons, Millionares and Mothers Part 2: The Ballad of Duke Balloney or “I’m Flintheart Glomgold and I Always Will Be!” (Commission for WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy people. I”m Jake, I review stuff and today continues my look at Ducktales season 2 story arcs, of Moons, Millionares and Mothers. And while this arc as a whole is paid for by WeirdKev27, due to the Arc’s length, 17 parts including 15 episodes and 6 comics (2 of which will be in the same review), this one’s special as he’s using his patreon review every month to do so. If you too want me to review something of your choice simply hit up my ask box or join my patreon at patreon.com/popculture buffet. You get access to my discord, to pick a short when I do a group of them for characters birthdays, help me hit neat stretch goals like my next which is reviewing a darkwing duck episode a month, and best of all EXCLUSIVE REVIEWS. And I just added one this saturday of a carl barks story centerting around wigs, legal battles and attempted murder, both by our villian.. and by our heroes...

I will never get tired of that panel nor the boys inexplicably finding a blowgun. Point is it’s there if you want it at THIS LINK, but enough plugging so I can help pay the streaming bills and keep doing this... let’s get to the meat of things shall we?

This episode begins the second arc of this retrospective, The Glomgold Arc. And this arc was inevitibly going to come to this blog for two reasons. The first is that I have made no secret, in fact i’ve shouted it as loud as I can the neighbors are concerned, that I fucking love the 2017 Version of Flintheart Glomgold. 

Glomgold is Keith Ferguson’s best role, tied with Lord Hater obviously, but it is indeed a tie. No one but Keith could’ve pulled off glomgold’s combination of ego, ham, and batshit insanity. He just makes the utterly stupid and wonderfully ludicrious things that come out of the mans mouth sound so damn natural with such an unearned confidence. It’s very clear that Frank had Keith in mind when putting this version of everyone’s faviorite South African Billionare pretending to be a Scottish Billionare and wisely built the characcter around him and his immense talent. I was not familiar with Keith at all, wasn’t even aware he voiced hater before this show but damn if that hasn’t fully changed. 

Glomgold was also just in general a brilliant update of the character: While I know a lot of duck fans weren’t happy with this version at least at first. As the action figure sitting on my shelf that once road in a car with my david hasslehoff baywatch funko pop I have entirley due to my love of baywatching,  this insane music video hoff did in the early 2000′s, and just in general how gloriously rediculous the man’s life is when you stop and think about it for a second from a pay per-view concert that ended up falling on the same night as The OJ Chase,  to his kung fury cameo , to his weird insetence they never had sex on baywatch desspite mounds of video evdience and the fact the show was buit around the bulk of it’s cast’s sex appeal, to the fact the model of his pecs used for the spongebob movie was sold in an auction and on and on... I was going somewhere with this...

Oh right as the action figure, and previous praise, shows I am not one of these fans: The original isn’t bad, in fact one of my faviorite life and times chapters that i’ll be covering this week and talking about later in the review has him as the main antagonist and a pitvitol figure in Scrooge’s life in the worst way possible. Rosa GETS what’s needed for Flinty to feel specail: to have him be an evil mirror to scrooge, what he could’ve been had he kept down the path he started down in Africa. A ruthless, amoral asshole who will do ANYTHING to get rich. 

It’s just often that isn’t emphasised enough and he’s instead just another one of the millions of generic assholes trying to get scrooges money sometimes with hired goons...

Not only that but Frank really COULDN’T have him at full effectivness. See an arch enemy in the Silver Age, which STARTED the same year Glomgold Debuted no less, wasn’t a big deal. They were still considered your deadliest foe but they’d often, much like Flinty be shuffled into the rogues gallery, show up for an issue to meance the hero, then either escape, get thrown in jail only to escape from that easily later, or be presumed dead. The last one I bring up because it happened to Magneto a LOTTTT pre-claremont. For Fuck’s Sake Charles have those teenagers train to look for a body once in a while!

Original Flinty was built for that, and brilliantly so as Barks had a talent for it , as seen by the fact The Beagle BOys, Flintheart and Magica have stuck around ever since and even in comics overseas where Flintehart is replaced.. it’s by Rockerduck who Barks ALSO created. The 87 Show followed the same formula, which was just as standard for 80′s cartoons. It’s why Megatron took until his toy was canceled the movie to shoot starscream in the face. 

The problem is villians evolved and the expecation became more that a true arch enemy had to be a true threat. While Frank and Matt COULD’VE made Flintheart a real and honest threat, he also would’ve had to make him a Big Bad. The probelm was those seats were clearly taken: while i’m pretty sure some ideas came as they went, the main story beats were clearly planned out well in advance: Webby being a clone was always the plan, as was FOWL, Darkwing being a fan of a fictional Darkwing who became the real thing, and Della being on the moon. So he presumibly carefully choose each season’s big bad... and thus Season’s 1-3 would be full up wise. Season 1 had Magica, who he made into a TRUE threat, yet left the door open for her to return as she did, Season 2 had Lunaris who even if they hadn’t fully thought him up, they probably had thought up the moonvasion, and Season 3 was what they’d built the series towards with FOWL. 

Details probably changed, it’s very clear to me they were likely going to have all three buzzards be important and ended up deicding to pivot to it just being Bradford over time. But given how well they though tout the general framework, I highly doubt Flinty was ever considered as a seirous big bad.. and I know i’m saying this in an arc that tried to set him up as one, but i’m getting there simmer. 

So they could wait for a season 4 that might not happen.. or make him a recurring villian. So Frank and Matt decided to do that and leaned into comedy. Centering him around keith who Frank worked with previously on Wonder and thus knew he could play a hammy manchild like no one else, they simply leaned into the goofier aspects of his personality. His being similar to scrooge became him being an intentional and blatant knockoff. As Scrooge himself perfectly summed up in episode 1 “The poor man’s version of me.. which to be fair still makes him insanely rich”. 

It’s another reason to really love this version as while yes, they did make him a bafoon.. he’s a wonderfully, redicuously layered bafoon: He still contrasts scrooge perfectly, manically hammy to Scrooge being calm, especially around flinty, blantatly crooked to Scrooge’s died in wool honesty, and wasting money on revenge instead of spending it on his actual company. There’s more obviously but some i’m saving for the review. 

Not only that but his insane schemery has a rhyme and reason to it: He attacks Scrooge every week like the saturday morning cartoon villian he is, but his schemes are always unwieldly and massively stupid, and he always goes with the first draft. It’s something the team enforced: the first version is what they role with because that’s how his sad brain works. He also is obssed with sharks and explosives, the former being given a suprisingly heartfelt and unsuprisingly insanne origin story towards the series end, and works them into every plot no matter how much itm akes no sense. He’s pure ego, pure stupid and pure fun. 

So yeah circling back to him being the big bad, I felt he was made one for this season for two reasons: the first is while a lot of fans (raises hand) enjoyed this version, some didn’t like how inept he was, so this would give them a breif bit of Flintheart being a genuine threat again. The other was frankly... they didn’t want to play their hand. Lunaris WAS the big bad... but fans would get supscious if there was seemingly no true threat on the horizon. Magica popped up in episode 4. We didn’t know her full plan yet true, but all we needed was lena SAYING HER NAME and fans of any other version of teh Disney Ducks would instantly go “Oh shit there she is”. So fans would now have the expectation of a main antagonist.. but would be instantly supscious of Lunaris and Penumbra if there wasn’t one for the first third of a season it took to them, and it’d leave a gap in the story to not have someone driving the plot on earth. 

So Flinty got an upgrade.. a slight one and we’ll talk about the eb and flow. And thus he got a proper origin. Now granted they could’ve planned this too, but this one’s harder to tell as the curse you me gag could’ve been a clever setup or could’ve just been a one off gag they somehow turned into an entire episode. So Flinty got an arc.. and a comedic foil, the other reason this was inevieble, and Kev’s faviorite character, Zan Owlson. So how did it work out for them? Well we’ll begin that journey under the cut. 

We begin our story a few months ago.... on every level really: the months ago shadow war aired when this episode originally good, the months ago I reviwed Shadow War (which via counting I found out was my 200th episode not counting Patreon. Nice), and most importantly for this story, the four months ago before the present day of Season 2. 

Glomgold saying curse you me as he fell into the bay during the Shadow War.... only for once in his life he dosen’t somehow get out of it unscathed and instead passes out, almost drowning. He’s found by Fisher and Mann, two fisherpersons... Mann is specific about that due to being a woman despite the obvious irony. It’s a good gag. Flinty acts like he normally would.. hostile, demanding that they know who he is.. and while they don’t.. neither does he. 

Cue credits and cue present day. Via a newscast with Roxanne we learn what I mentioned earlier: It’s been four month and Glomgold’s been missing. The general mood.. has been about what you’d expect. 

Yeah Roxanne turned on him real fast. I genuinely wouldn’t be surprised if it was because he later openly bragged about stealing scrooge’s money during the shark thing on live tv at some point, making Roxanne look terrible for enabling him and for blatantly supporting him earlier. I mean.. how else do you get a corrupt journalist to do anything decent. 

But with Glomgold gone SOMEONE’S gotta replace him.. and that someone is Zan Motherfucking Owlson. Top of her class at Mouseton Univesity, Owlson is the show once again updating things: previously they added Mark Beaks to the Rogue’s Gallery as he contrasts the 50′s (scrooge ) and 80′s (glomgold) idea of billionares from previous versions of the property being a modern tech weasel. Though instead of just one thing Owlson represents a few: The most obvious is she’s a woman of color: Having a black woman in such a high position of power is something disney would’ve outright vetoed in the 50′s and 80′s. Here it’s well accepted as it always should have been. It also feels like a delebrate move on Frank’s part: There weren't’ any major african or african american coded characters in season 1, despite the show being very open and accepting, so that needed to change. The other is frankly outside of Brigtaa MacBridge, whose also weirdly absent from this series for some reason and has taken Fethry and Rockerduck’s place as the most major overseas duck character to never get adapted, there are hardly ever any females on Scrooge and his richer foes level. He’s had the occasional female rival or suitor, but only Brigittta had staying power and while I love the idea of her, another person as rich as scrooge whose willing to spend more and has a crush on him, she badly needed an update as she’s essentially Adventure Era Amy Rose in a grown ass woman’s body. 

Owlson also provides a diffrent dynamic in that she portrays the ideal of what we’d want from a ceo: She’s honest, works hard, earned her way as square as scrooge did, gladly donates to charity and is extremely charismatic and intelligent. Granted most CEO”s are nothing like this but still, she’s what we WANT them to be. Using the money not for themselves or taking big paychecks but to help people. She also provides something Glomgold needed: a straight man. While he has one in Scrooge at times, Owlson unlike both of them is a fully functional resonable human being. Scrooge, while a good person deep down, can be reckless, impulsive and greedy, and Glomgold had a tarzan like experince with sharks, goes on to name his dummy son sharkbomb, and tried to murder Scrooge on live television twice that we know of. She’s the calm, snarky, put upon sane person trying to reign in the crazy shark explosion man. 

Owlson dosen’t get a ton to do here, but that will change and she does get a decent amout in the final scene. But what she does here establishes who she is and how sh’es FIXED Glomgold industries; She’s shut down the vast number of money sinking scheme related departments, set ups everal charities, and is even setting up a new one with Scrooge, Dimes for Ducklings. In short she knew exactly what was needed to fix the company and it’s image and did so in FOUR MONTHS. Probably even less given they had to be sure Glomgold wasn’t coming back right away. I guarantee he’s faked his death like 10 times just to try and kill scrooge. They have to make sure it’s real first.  As one last note before we move on, Owlson is played by Natasha Rothwell, a producer and writer who i’ve only seen outside of this in Love, Simon and Sonic the Hedgehog.. that is a weird combo of things that mean a LOT to me I haven’t been able to bring up here again. 

We find the tv this was all playing on on the docks with a non-anthro segull pecking it while a bunch of fisherpersons go about their day. We also get this guy. 

Add him to the list of spinoffs I want THE LIST OF SPINOFFS JAKE WANTS: 1. Darkwing Duck 2. Donald, Daisy and the Kids 3. The Sabrewings 4. Tailspin Reboot 5. The Flintheart Glomgold Show 6. A Sequel Movie 7. This Guy Punching A Fucking Fish 

So you might be wondering when any of our main cast are going to show up.. and why the fish puncher isn’t in said main cast. Well that’s about now as Webby and Louie are fishing. Well okay more acuratley webby is fishing because she genuinely enjoys it and Louie is tagging along so he can nap on a boat while Webby paddles him around. That plan is threatnned by her spear fishing and he suggests using rods instead, but they need bait for that. 

Naturally, given we need to get this plot going our heroes run into Duke Baloney, aka an amnesiac Glomgold. Understandably, both of htem think this is some sort of scheme at first because waiting for someone related to Scrooge to stroll by his fish stand for some sort of shark themed trap, especially since he’s right near the water so he dosen’t have to worry about keeping them hydrated like that time he dropped one from a plane onto scrooge’s board meeting with two chainsaws strapped to it. But .. it’s not. While we the audience saw him amnesiac, and at first I thought that spoiled the episode... it really dosen’t. He still ACTS like himself on instinct, so your not sure if he faked it as part of some elaborate scheme or is really gone till this scene shows that, no he really isn’t there. And the how is simply in knowing the guy: Glomgold is not good at subtley. He has disguises and such, but their never remotely convincing. He could NEVER pull off  actually being a humble fish monger nor have gone four fucking months without yelling at scrooge or remotely contacting him. There’s also the fact Fisher and Mann 100% belivie in duke and back up his very real story of being dredged out of the bay. There’s also his south african accent, which actors including David Tennant himself have admitted is one of the hardest to pull off but Keith does swimingly, which is a hint.. but only on rewatch or for those who know his comics origins. 

Louie isn’t convinced which is fair: even if Glomgold isn’t good at this sort of thing, he’s still tried it a lot. Webby however correctly figures he has amensia. So the two simply try talking to him. Fisher and Mann do get a bit dickish laughing off the idea he’s possibly Glomgold.. despite the fact you know you dredged him out of the fucking water 4 months ago.. and if you actually looked at the news, would see Glomgold disappeared around the exact same time you found Duke. It just annoys me because otherwise these two are great characters: Friendly loveable fisherpersons who love their job, have no comeptiviness and genuinely want to help their friend duke. The encounter does have them seeing a fancy money clip Duke has but with no other options they leave for now. 

But while Duke has forgotten who he was... bits of glomgold still stir within him. And that starts when Duke spots the McDuck Industries fishing boat, the best fishing boat on the sea, something his friends are okay with.. but Duke naturally isn’t. So while Duke was a calm sane fisherman before the true glomgold in him is on full display as he comes up with insane schemes involving fish and explosives, before presenting a rather insane scheme to his friends involving getting engineering degrees and other stuff.. it’s as poorly drawn and wonderful as you expect from him. But what’s telling is that he reigns it in when his friends show obvious concern with his actions... something Glomgold would NEVER do. For one he dosen’t have friends. For another, he doesn’t care about anyone else’s feelings or thoughts. 

By now Webby is also championing that Duke is a diffrente person.. which is true. Duke is Glomgold stripped of his hate and resitment towards scrooge. He’s who the man COULD’VE been had he not sworn eternal vengeance on Scrooge. Louie is doubtful that he’s amnesiac still.. but neither can quite figure out the full story so it’s time for research.. and for Webby to accidentally knock Louie into some lobster traps.. which given he’s spent the entire episode assuming an amnesiac man isn’t that despite all the evidence to the contrary, he earned that. That said these two were the perfect choice for it: All of the boys have a bit of skeptic in them, and we already had a plot with Huey being skeptical.. and even he would’ve given up by now as would dewey since he only has a pinch at best. Webby.. has none. She can question motives and stuff sure, but at her heart she’s a kind forgiving soul who belives the best in everyone. And.. its’  paid off fo rher. Look at the whole Lena situation, she believed in her, even while Lena was actively manipulating her,.. and it truly changed her, convinced Lena to do the right thing despite the cost, to choose love over the abusive monster who made her. It’s the only missed opportunity in the episode for me. Character wise it has exactly the 8 it needs to tell the story and focuses heavly on the five it truly is about. But not having Webby bring up Lena when we don’t hear her mentoined AT ALL during her absence (though to the shows credit they did a good job showing Webby still had never remotely given up), and it made the wait more agonizing and would’ve made her motivations hit even harder: that she belives in duke because she believed in lena and it was real. And while this thank christ isn’t remotely romantic, the point does stand: She wants to see the best. 

Louie is a conman by nature so he only sees the worst, the weakest in people, the things he can use to take htem down or take hteir money. He can’t fathom someone doing good because he can’t fathom HIMSELF being good. And that.. says a lot.. but he’s accepted himself as a shady conperson who cares only for himself.. even if that’s not the truth. His inclusion here enhances his own arc much like Huey’s role in quack pack enhanced his. It shows that deep down Louie dosen’t think much of anyone.. and probably not himself. That he has to be shady and greedy to survive when that’s not tru. Sharper than the sharpies yes but also square.

One last bit before we moved on  I just found out though: The Crew originally had this as a straight up origin story: no kids, none of the rest of the duck family, except presumably Scrooge’s parts here, just Glomgold’s struggle with amensia and his past leading to who hei s now. Honestly I think that version could’ve worked, but likely given disney seems TERRIFIED of making a show starring an adult without a chlid and had to be talked into the child light Golden Lagoon, that was a non starter but I think it still works fine. I also foudn this out via a twitter thread of Frank’s rewriting history that goes in deep on teh production of each episode. Had I known this existed before writing this one, I would’ve used it for the other two arcs and most dangerous game night, but I intend to read through it so I have everything on the table from here on out. 

For only the second time in her long career of researching stuff though, Webby has hit a dead end. Mostly because she couldn’t find anything on Duke.. and NOTHING on Glomgold’s past pre-Duckburg. The most she has is his visa...

I want to frame this on my wall.. and someone is actually seling id cards out there, so I want this one at some point. It’s not Disney because they don’t care about fan merch like this, but then that just means they don’t get the money because they didn’t think of it or put the work in then huh. 

But yeah with nothing else our heroes go to the only person they know who knows him well...  Scrooge. 

Meanwhile Duke has .. this... I just.....I can’t put words to this truly bizzare surreal dream sequence.. it involves Glomgold going insane, the kids dancing on a bagpipe, and owlson is there.. despite the fact that Glomgold should have zero idea whot hat is. I think the kids mentioned here but even then, he somehow knows exactly what she looks like.

Otherwise good stuff and it’s raining hard as Duke goes in. Fisher and Mann have formally added him to their sign, and warmly welcomed him in and Duke says “this is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me I think” which is probably true. and makes what’s coming all the more heartbreaking. 

But before what’s coming Duke has another thing coming.. Scrooge who the kids brought to talk to him. The two talk casually, the kids watch not knowing.. and then Scrooge comes back to them. Turns out Webby was, unsurprisingly right on the money, Flinty does have amnesia, and unlike what Louie thought.. he isn’t inherently evil. Duke is just duke.. and Scrooge has no intention of fixing the amnesia. And while that SOUNDS bad.. his intentions are noble: Glomgold.. was a throughly miserable person. He was never happy and never would be till Scrooge was dead by his hand and that was never going to happen.  It isn’t even taking an enemy off the board: Flinty is only a threat on occasion. Scrooge clearly ENJOYS their conflict: it may annoy him from time to time, but he clearly enjoys upstaging the guy. And as he points out, it’s not a brain injury or anything: Glomgold is practically immortal as Louie put earlier, and Scrooge outright mentions Glomgold’s taken a LOT of explosions to the face. So he’s in no real danger physically or emotionally.. he’s happy. He has friends, a calling he truly enjoys. There’s another reason too but we’ll see that in the final scene. 

So Duke is finally happy... but it doesn’t last... the kids go out but a storms a coming, and Duke selfleslly heads out to save them.. only to get hit on the head and fall in the ocean again. 

It’s here we get the 2017 version of Glomgold’s origin story. We did kinda get one with life and times, as we saw his first meeting with scrooge and why he hated him, long story short with the long story coming later this week Glomgold left Scrooge for dead and Scrooge’s response was to come back, kick the fuckers ass, tar and feather him and utterly humilaite him, leading to Flinty swearing vengance. 

But while I love that version..t his one is just as awesome if not better. And it’s without having Scrooge ride a lion. Here we instead meet Flinty as a child Scrooge’s age... and as a shoeshine boy. Yup just like Scrooge Duke, Glomgold’s birth name, was an industrious young boy with big dreams. He also had unwieldy schemes from minute one, but Scrooge saw in this lad the same fire he had and tried replicating his own origin. 

The problem was... the different context ruined it. Scrooge was paid by an equally poor ditchdigger the us equilvent of his pay: still useless in scotland, but a good lesson in hard work and not being swindled. Scrooge tried that... as the richest duck in the world and without giving flinty the same amount of money. 

So Duke/Flinty took umbrage at this yelled at scrooge.. and pick pocketed his money clip. In the only bit taken from the rosa version of their first meeting, Scrooge never realized he’d met flinty already. There and then duke came up with his first true, and first insane scheme: Save the money and use it to mold himself into a richer, more scottish version of scrooge dedicating his life to one upping him and killing him. A “single white female” type thing as Frank put it. 

It’s.. utterly brilliant... taking Glomgold being a knockoff as mention and just running with that... making Glomgold a LITERAL knockoff. This was indeed the plan all along: A way to have him be both south african and scottish and it was brilliant. It also gives him more depth and more tragedy: He COULD’VE been the next scrooge.. but instead of being his own man or learning any of the hard lessons scrooge did he doubled down on never learning anything and getting vengeance on an old man’s well meant but accidently classist gesture. 

So Glomgold reawakens and while it first looks like he’s going to save the kids... he instead throws Webby into the raging sea, and steals their fish. Webby is heartbroken and Louie asks him “what about duke.” His response is heartbreaking as it is character defnting

“I”m Flintheart Glomgold and I always will be!” the lightning shot, the cackle..i t’s just such a damn good moment that underscores the tragedy of the episode as Glomgold’s new friends are horrified by what he is now and what he was always meant to be and Glomgold leaves to go stalk scrooge once again. He indeed is Flintheart Glomgold and always will be.. because he threw the decent person he could’ve been away. He’s miserable.. because he can’t let go of his rage or ego and just move on from something that happened to him when he was ten! He has to be in his 60′s now! Glomgold may think Scrooge is his worst enemy.. but it’s really Flintheart Glomgold.... and it always will be. 

So naturally his first actoin is to storm into his company and scream at scrooge. How he found him there... honestly not a huge suprise it’s his company and he likely knows how to find scrooge anywhere because he’s a creep like that. Scrooge and Owlson’s reactions are both worth a look at:

Given Glomgold bursts into an already annoying meeting of Scrooge trying to get the dimes part knocked down to nickles (and likely lower before that given he mentioned Pennies earlier), to accuse Scrooge of trying to trick him by appearing as a boat in his dreams her bafflement is both understandable and hilarious. Like she probably HEARD what Glomgold was like but gennuinely didn’t belivie it and her face is just now frozen in a look of “oh my god they were not exagearating what fresh hell is this”. 

She tries to be professional and introduce herself but he just brushes her off and yells at Scrooge blaming him for being forgotten (”You literally forgot yourself), with Owlson also considering calling security. She only dosen’t because Scrooge points out he’ll tire himself out eventually and as usual for their jousts, is not remotely threatened or worried. He’s just..sad. And getting back to his reaction.. that’s what’s telling about his plan. He probably KNEW this would happen. He in his heart knew Duke Balloney would be gone soon, and he’d have to deal with Glomgold again. It helps soften the implicatoins: it wouldn’t last and fraknly if it did Scrooge would probably have people check on him regualry to make sure he was okay. He’s not a monster.. he just wanted Flinty to be happy for five minutes and to not ruin that out of some misplaced sense of right and wrong.. when the right thing was to simply let the man be happy till it inevitably blew up. 

Glomgold however, furious at being forgotten and cast aside has decided to take a huge poorly thought through gamble and challenges scrooge to a classic Scrooge comics trope between the two, but with higher stakes: A contest to see who will be the richest duck in the world by the end of the year.. and given Christmas happens right after this i’m just assuming he means a year from now. Winner gets both companies and fortunes. Scrooge scoffs at this.. till Flinty pulls out the clip, taunting him with how he did it and “If I can beat you once scrooge i’ll beat you again”. And this, Flinty revealing he stole from him and he NEVER KNEW it or realize it, enrages scrooge enough to agree and to take him seriously... meanwhile Owlson.. just tries to get actual work shit done and just forges their signatures. Look she is a woman of color in the business world with genuinely good motives... she’s probably used to using white nonsense to get things past two idiots having a peeing race. 

Final Thoughts:

This episode is truly excellent and like Most Dangerous Game Night! i’d forgottne just HOW good it was. The pacing, the comedy, and the character work is all on full blast and i’ve gushed plenty enough about how great an origin story is. it’s a character piece that explains why this doofus is the way he is and that is what holds him back. 

Next time on MMM: Louie’s back as he pulls a ghostbusters to make quick money and Storkules starts rooming with Donald with predictable results. 

If you liked this review consider joining my patreon and i’ll see you at the next rainbow. 

#ducktales #flintheart glomgold #scrooge mcduck #the ballad of duke balloney #webby vanderquack #louie duck #fisher #mann #fishing #weblena #disney plus #disney xd #disney channel

[mamabearcatfanfics]

Dani updates something. The world must be truly coming to an end. Read below or here on AO3

Like most great wars, it was started by something small.

Kagome picked up her laptop from where it had been sitting on the coffee table and carried it into her bedroom, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Perhaps it hadn’t been a good idea to invite Inuyasha over for movie and pizza, but when she’d texted him earlier in the day and heard about his crap day at work, she’d extended an impromptu invite. Sango hadn’t minded, and it had been fun, even if he did spend most of the night using her laptop to debunk theories in the spy thriller they’d watched.

When he’d first arrived, he’d been his usual grumpy self, but by the end of the movie, he was in an excellent mood. It was nice to see him happy, although she wasn’t exactly sure what had caused the change in attitude. The pizza had probably helped. She’d never seen anyone consume pizza like Inuyasha could. It worried her sometimes, the types of food he ate, even though he argued that an inuhanyou’s metabolism was very different to a human’s and you couldn’t compare the two.

Anyway, it didn’t matter. If her friend was happy, then so was she. He had such a nice smile, and she tried to do her best to help it come out at every opportunity. They were just friends, she knew that, but his smile was just… it gave her butterflies.

Calling out a sleepy goodnight to Sango, she wandered into her bedroom yawning, wishing she could flop straight onto the bed and close her eyes. But unfortunately, she still had the proposed media releases for the Starlight Foundation’s upcoming fundraiser event to read through before a breakfast meeting tomorrow. She knew if she’d stayed to go over them at work she’d have to walk home from the train station in the dark, so she’d emailed them to her personal laptop before she’d left for the day.

Slipping into her comfy pj’s and snuggling under the covers, she opened up her laptop, then blinked slowly, her head tilting slightly as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing.

Everything was upside down.

Her whole screen was the opposite of how it should look. She exited out of her email program, noting with apprehension that her desktop was also upside down, then opened it up again. Still upside down. Crap! Was this a virus? She’d let the virus protection on her laptop lapse because she’d had to buy a new dress to wear to the fundraising ball, and she’d seen the perfect dress and there’d been a sale, and she had to get the extra money from somewhere. What if it the virus somehow got back to her work computer? Shit, shit, shit!

Quickly googling ‘everything on my computer screen is upside down’, and tilting the screen and her head so she could read the upside down words, she breathed a sigh of relief when she worked out it was an easy fix. Using the Ctrl, Alt and arrow keys she quickly set it to rights, sending up a silent thank you prayer to the IT gods, with a promise that she would update her virus protection asap. She wasn’t sure how her screen had got that way, but right now she was too tired to care.

The next evening, when she sat down with Sango to watch the latest episode of Masterchef, the tv remote refused to work. With their cider going warm and the avocado dip congealing on the cheese platter they’d prepared, they both tried to get the remote to work, giving it a tap and shake to no avail.

After repeated attempts at removing the batteries and rotating them, while Sango went through the junk drawer in the kitchen in a fruitless search for new batteries, Kagome finally noticed the tiny scrap of black tape over the sensor on the remote.

She removed it, and the remote worked again. She looked suspiciously at Sango, narrowing her eyes. She smelled a prank. But Sango loved watching Masterchef as much as she did, and was complaining bitterly about them missing a souffle failure. Masterchef was one of the highlights of their week. Nope, it wasn’t Sango. But someone was definitely having fun at their expense.

Two nights later, when she bit into an Oreo from her secret treat stash in her bedside drawer, and found the sweet creamy filling had been replaced with toothpaste, she knew there was a prank war going on. And as far as she knew, there was only one person who knew about her secret stash, because he’d busted her one night stuffing her face when he’d popped his head in her room to say good night.

Inuyasha.

He’d had time to do all these things on their movie night. He’d used her laptop. He’d had access to the remote. And now that she thought about it, there’d been that suspicious amount of time he’d spent in the bathroom, which neither of them had questioned because he’d muttered a warning about steering clear of the bathroom for a while to give the air a chance to clear. But that would have enabled him access to both the bathroom and her bedroom while her and Sango were engrossed in the movie. No wonder he’d been so cheerful that evening when he left. Inuyasha had pranked her.

But what he didn’t know, was that Kagome was a seasoned campaigner when it came to prank wars. Her and Souta had it down to a fine art, coming up with bigger and better pranks all the time, to the point that one year her mother hand banned them totally, because things were getting out of hand.

The corners of her mouth turned up in a sinister smile, and she let out a chuckle worthy of a cartoon villain. Alright. If he wanted a war, he’d get one.

It was on, like Donkey Kong.

Inuyasha sighed moodily. It wasn’t that he disliked his job necessarily, it was just a job, and it paid the bills, and gave him enough time off to do all the other things he enjoyed doing. But on days like today, when the shop was empty as a tomb, and his phone battery had gone flat, he was ready to expire from boredom. He was just toying with the idea of using a charging cable from the one’s in stock, when a familiar scent drifted across his senses as the shop bell rang.

“How’s my favourite hanyou doing?” Kagome grinned, watching his ears perk up as she walked in.

“I’m fucking bored to tears”, he said, standing up from where he’d been slumped against the counter. He glanced at the clock on the wall, then looked back at her with concern. “Hey. Aren’t you home from work a little early? You’re not sick are ya?”

“No, no, I’m going to work from home this afternoon, seeing I’ve been going into the office so early this week”, Kagome answered breezily. “I just popped in to bring you something.”

“Huh?”

“I tried out a new recipe for chocolate chip cookies, and I know how much you like them, so I saved some for you. That should make your afternoon more interesting.”

Inuyasha sniffed the tupperware container she handed over appreciatively. Kagome was a good cook, and even though the plastic blocked most of the smell, he could tell they would be tasty, because everything Kagome made was delicious. And chocolate chip cookies were his favourites. Fucking sweet!

“Thanks Kagome! You’re the best, you know that?”

His conscience twitched slightly as he thought about the toothpaste oreo’s he’d hidden in her drawer. He’d had a crap day that day, and playing those little pranks on her had cheered him up immensely. He’d often played pranks on his half brother Sesshoumaru back when he’d come to visit Dad during school holidays, to see if he could budge the stick that the older youkai seemed to have permanently wedged up his arse. The oreo trick had been one of his favourites. But here she was baking for him. Maybe she hadn’t found them yet. Perhaps he could replace them with a whole new packet before she ate one, seeing she’d bought him these. He grinned at her.

“You wanna stay and eat some with me Kittycat?”

“I’m afraid I can’t”, Kagome said with a sorrowful expression. “Lots to do. But I’m sure you’ll enjoy them!” With a cheery wave, she walked out of the door.

Inuyasha smiled, looking down at the container in his hands. She’d put a post it note on the lid, with ‘For Inuyasha’ written in curly swoopy cursive. She was a good friend, had fit into his life so completely that he didn’t know what he’d do if she suddenly disappeared. He was so glad he’d helped her that day she’d walked in to the shop with her bad cold.

Taking off the lid and not even pausing to take a sniff, he picked up one of the delectable looking cookies and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth, chewing appreciatively, until a distinctive taste hit his tongue. He nearly spat the contents of his mouth out on the floor, but ended up swallowing the mouthful with distaste, knowing he’d be the one that would have to clean up the mess. Those weren’t chocolate chips…

 Fucking raisins!

The wench knew he hated them. What the fuck? Who would replace innocent chocolate chips with fucking raisins, the worlds most vile dried fruit – that was… was evil!

The post-it note fluttered off the lid, and he noticed a smiley face drawn on the back with some more of Kagome’s swirling cursive.

 ‘That’s payback for the Oreos dog boy!  ❤ K.’

He snorted, about to tip the cookies in the bin, then deciding to put them aside to give to Myoga. The old man had taste in his arse, he’d probably love them, especially if he told him Kagome made them. But Kagome. What was he going to do about sweet little innocent Kagome? It looked like he’d finally found a worthy adversary.

It had been two weeks since she’d given Inuyasha the cookies, and there had been no retaliation. She sniggered, remembering his face when she’d asked him how he’d liked his cookies – the rolled eyes, the huff of irritation. Sweet manna to her soul. But then he hadn’t done anything about it. Frankly Kagome was a little disappointed. It was a shame, because she’d really enjoyed baking the biscuits for him and imagining his face when he bit into one, but she guessed that not everyone liked pranks. The Oreo incident had probably been a one off.

She flicked on the lamp next to the sofa, ready to sit down and enjoy her book and her cocoa with the last of the tiny little marshmallows, and shrieked, slopping the hot liquid down her pyjama shirt. Sango came running.

“Kagome, are you okay?!”

“Cockroach!”, she shrieked, pointing at the lamp, ready to hurl her book at it. The shadow of the insect was clearly visible on the inside of the lamp shade. “Quick Sango, get the bug spray!”

“On it!” Sango hollered, running into the kitchen, clearly ready to unload half the can on the offending interloper. Kagome kept her eye locked on the insect, wanting to be ready in case it flew towards her, holding up her book like a shield. The insect was still. Very still. So still in fact she bravely moved closer to take a better look.

She pulled the cut out picture of a giant cockroach from the inside of the lamp and held it up for Sango’s inspection as she approached with a jumbo sized can of spray. Sango looked incredulously at the paper insect, and then back at Kagome, who was looking at the cut out with a strange expression of glee.

“Inuyasha?” asked Sango hesitantly, unsure exactly what was going on, but making an informed guess.

“Yup!” replied Kagome happily, popping the ‘p’ with relish. Looked like Inuyasha was playing a long game. She could do that.

They were strolling along the High Line, or rather Kagome was strolling, and Inuyasha was following along reluctantly. It was only the promise of beer and a burger at the end of this outing that had made him go along.

“Isn’t it lovely here?”

“Kagome, it’s a bridge. With plants on it. And tourists.”

“But it’s so nice! Isn’t it amazing? All these green things growing in the middle of the city.” She twirled around with her arms out wide, nearly taking out some backpackers, then grabbed his hand, dragging him over to a small garden filled with purple daisies.

“Can we take a selfie here together? Please?” She pulled her phone out of her pocket, and then pouted dramatically. “Aw, I’m all out of battery.”

She looked up at Inuyasha and gave him a sweet smile, and he rolled his eyes, shoving his hand in his jeans pocket to pluck out his phone.

“Fine, use mine”, he drawled, unlocking his phone and handing it over to her. “But don’t go filling it up with cutesy photos, alright?” He didn’t mind really though. Kagome was always taking photos of them together on her phone, and he didn’t have any on his. It might be nice to have at least one of them together.

Kagome smiled up at him, and they did the usual shuffle so they would both fit in the confines of the screen – her standing on tiptoes, and him curving his body downwards.

“Say cheese!”

He grinned automatically, his lopsided smile revealing one fang, his cheek resting on the top of Kagome’s head. She’d told him she was using a new shampoo, one that didn’t smell quite as much, after reading up on different scents that bothered youkai, and he appreciated the fact that she’d done something like that for him. He sighed, breathing in her sweet smell, which blocked out the usual stench of the city.

“Thank you” said Kagome softly, mindful of how close she was to his ears. She kissed his cheek gently, and he couldn’t help the sappy grin that crossed his face. “I’m just gonna message the photo to my phone, okay? That way we’ve both got a copy.”

“Uh sure.”

He straightened up, feeling his heart beating a little faster for some reason. He obviously needed to get to the gym more often if walking along a bridge and dodging tourists got his heart rate up.

She handed him back his phone and then tugged on his hand. He slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“C’mon! I promised I’d buy you a beer and a burger. There’s a pub just under the bridge that’s meant to be awesome. I was reading reviews about it last night.”

He smiled fondly at her, taking in her wide grin and the spring sunshine bouncing off her dark hair. Such a bubbly person. He honestly didn’t know what Kagome saw in him. But he was very glad that she liked hanging out.

He had such a fun afternoon talking, laughing, eating, then walking her back to her apartment, that he realised he’d never looked at the photo she’d taken. He pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it, then snorted when he looked at his screen. He didn’t know how she’d done it, but somehow, she’d changed every single app icon to different pictures of kittens. Nice one. His lips curled into a smile, already planning on what he could do to get her back.

He flicked open his photo app and stared at the photo of them together, standing in the sunlight surrounded by purple daisies in the middle of a bustling city, the wind blowing their hair so the white and black intermingled. He saved it as his lock screen.

Kagome hated dusting. But she loved knick nacks, so dusting was a necessity. She just couldn’t bear to throw things away, and kept all sorts of little mementoes that wouldn’t mean anything to other people, but meant a lot to her. Spraying a little bit more polish on the rag, she ran it over the shelves of the bookcase in the hallway, picking up a photo frame absentmindedly so she could dust underneath. And then she double blinked.

Taking a closer look at the photo, she snorted with laughter. It was a photo of the four of them, one someone had taken when they’d won the pub trivia championship.

She didn’t know how he’d done it, or when, but somehow Inuyasha had used a photo editing program to replace all their faces, hers, Sango’s, Miroku’s and his own, with the features of Nicholas Cage. Not entirely original, but funny all the same.

She turned the frame over to find the original photo stuck to the back. Miroku had his arm carelessly around Sango’s shoulders and Sango was blushing – no doubt Miroku had just whispered something perverted in her ear.

She was standing next to Sango, and Inuyasha was standing directly behind her, bending down so his chin rested on the top of her head. It made her smile, the way he draped himself on her for photos – it was often the only way they both fit, because he was so much taller than her.

He was so amazing, he took her breath away sometimes, just like he had that first time in the store. It was like he didn’t know how beautiful he was. She turned the photo around again, giggling at how ridiculous they all looked. She had to hand it to him, that was tricky. Time to up her game.

Inuyasha was pulling his boots on when there was a knock on his front door, but it was expected. He’d ordered a box of Krispy Kreme’s to bring to Miroku’s regular card night, and it had arrived right on time. Salted Double Caramel Crunch. He always ordered a box, knowing the girls liked them, and having a not so secret love of them himself. Kagome was always at him to eat healthier, worried about all the salty and sugary foods he enjoyed eating, but he was half youkai – his metabolism could handle nearly anything.

Carrying the box carefully, he walked the two blocks to Miroku’s house, a tiny bit late because he’d had to wait for the delivery, but it wasn’t like anyone would care. They were already there, Miroku shuffling the cards, Sango sipping a beer, and Kagome sitting on the sofa, her eyes lighting up when he walked in the door. Sometimes she was so fucking cute, he couldn’t stand it.

He plonked the box down on the centre of the table, and walked across to Miroku’s fridge, opening the door to snag himself a beer.

Sango opened the box eagerly, and then laughed uproariously.

“Are you on a health kick Inuyasha?” she sniggered.

“Huh?”

Opening up the sides of the box, she revealed carrot, celery and cucumber sticks, along with a plastic container of hummus.

“What the fuck?!”

Kagome came to stand behind him. “Oh, good boy! You finally listened to me about eating healthier foods. You’re gonna feel so much better!” she said, patting him on the shoulder.

Inuyasha turned his head, raising an eyebrow.

“Really Kagome? Kidnapping innocent donuts?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, Kagome said, her expression all wide eyed and innocent. “Bu-ut if you wanted a donut as a little treat for being a good boy, after you’ve eaten some healthy veggies of course, there’s a plate of Salted Double Caramel Crunch ones in the kitchen. I know they’re your favourites.”

Kagome was tired. So tired. It had been a hectic week at work in the lead up to the fundraising ball, and all she wanted to do was curl up on the sofa with a nice cup of sleepy tea before heading off to bed. She opened the cupboard to reach in for her favourite mug, but her hand clutched on empty air.

Huffing impatiently, she stood up on tiptoe, unable to quite see onto the shelf. Sango was taller than her, and sometimes she pushed the mugs back too far in the cupboard for her to reach. But her hand still grasped at nothing. Were they all in the dishwasher?

She opened up the dishwasher, but it was empty. Sighing impatiently, she went into the hall cupboard to fetch the little step stool she used to reach the higher shelves, but it wasn’t there. Or in the bathroom.

Smelling a rat, or rather a dog, she walked slowly back into the kitchen, her eyes roving around for anything amiss. And then she noticed them. Every single mug, cup and glass was placed on top of the cupboards, way out of her reach. Kagome frowned.

This… this one hurt a little. Inuyasha knew she was sensitive about her height. At 5’2” she was the shortest person in her family, with even Souta towering over her now, and her height was a family joke.

When they first met, Inuyasha used to tease her about it all the time too, but he didn’t any more, knowing that it upset her. The only thing that had stuck was her nickname, Kittycat, which she didn’t mind so much, she kind of liked the way he said it. But…

She sighed, climbing up onto the bench top and balancing on her tippy toes, one arm stretched up to reach for a mug, the other windmilling frantically as she almost lost her balance. This game. It didn’t feel quite as much fun anymore.

Inuyasha sipped his beer silently, sitting alone in their regular booth at the pub. Miroku had tried to engage him in conversation, but had eventually given up when every answer was a surly one syllable reply, and had gone over to the pool table to join a game.

They were waiting for the girls to arrive for their regular pub trivia night, but his heart wasn’t really in it tonight. He was annoyed at Kagome. She’d called him a ‘good boy’. Offered him a treat, like a dog. In front of other people. And it rankled, especially since she was usually the one who would defend him when others poked fun at his ears or his inuyoukai heritage. Somehow it hurt ten times worse coming from her, because it was unexpected. She did call him dog boy sometimes, but that hit different, because it was a nickname, a term of endearment. Being called a ‘good boy’ felt derogatory.

Maybe it had been petty, putting all the things up out of her reach, especially when he knew she was sensitive about her height, but he’d felt like being fucking petty. This game they were playing wasn’t as much fun as it had been.

His ear twitched as he heard the raised voices of Sango and Kagome over the general noise. Sango was disagreeing with her over something, asking her if it really was a good idea, and Kagome was shushing her, moving through the crowd towards them. She seemed a little off balance somehow, like she was walking differently, leaning slightly to one side.

As soon as he got closer he saw why. Her arm was in a sling.

The mugs. The fucking mugs. He’d put them all up out of her reach and hidden her step ladder under her bed. And of course because she was the clumsiest woman on this side of the planet, she’d managed to hurt herself. And it was all his fault. Fucking shit. He was the worst person alive.

Gulping, he pushed himself out of the booth, moving over towards them. Sango was still glowering at her, probably telling her it was a bad idea to be out at a pub when she was injured. And she was right. Maybe he should take her home. He couldn’t see a cast, so maybe her arm wasn’t broken. But even if it was just sprained, that was bad enough, because he knew it was coming up to the busiest time of year for her at work.

When he got closer, Sango greeted him shortly and then moved off to find Miroku. She obviously was angry at him, because she should be. Because he was a shit friend, who’d done something to someone who he cared about very much.

“Kagome…”

“Hey Inuyasha”, she said, looking downwards, her voice dejected, her arm cradled against her side carefully in the sling. “How are you?”

Unable to stop himself, he wrapped his arms around her carefully, like she was made of glass, avoiding her injured arm. She was so tiny, so fragile. So breakable.

“Kittycat, I’m so sorry. I just didn’t think.” He stroked her hair gently, running his clawed fingers through her dark curls. “Does it hurt too much? Have you had it x-rayed? If you want, I can take tomorrow off and take you to out patients. What ever you need, okay? I’m such a shit, I can’t believe I-“

Kagome cleared her throat. “Inuyasha?”

“Do you need to sit down?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m okay, really.” He watched as she pulled her arm out of the sling, and he flinched, his own hands moving reflexively, ready to steady her. “I really am fine. I almost fell, but then I didn’t. I didn’t get hurt. This is just to… to prank…um, gotcha?” she gulped as the concerned expression on Inuyasha’s face turned to ire.

He blinked at her, stony faced, then marched out of the pub, uncaring about Kagome calling after him.

He marched down the street, anger fueling his long strides, uncaring that Kagome’s voice was getting further and further away. He could hear her running to try and keep up, and he was bitterly amused about her tiny little human legs not being long or strong enough, until he heard her misstep and almost fall. Fuck. If she really did fall, which was totally a possibility because she was the biggest klutz on both sides of the planet…

He turned and marched back towards her, then waited, his arms crossed. She ran up to him, panting, leaning over to catch her breath.

“That wasn’t fucking funny Kagome.”

“I’m sorry”, she gasped. “I should have listened to Sango. She said it was too much. I was just annoyed about you putting everything up so high. And when I almost fell it gave me the idea.” She sighed. “But you’re right, it wasn’t funny.”

“Damn right it wasn’t!” he snarled. “I thought you were injured, and you know I’d never do anything to deliberately hurt you. Between this and the ‘good dog’ comment, I’m fucking-“

“What! I’d never-“

“It was implied. I was a ‘good boy’, who could have a ‘treat’? And then I suppose when you faked an injury you thought the good dog would whine about it and look after you? What did you do, read up on Inu youkai protective instincts or something? I bet you had a good laugh about it, huh?” He huffed out a heavy breath. “I don’t like this game we're playing anymore Kagome.”

“Inuyasha, I never meant it that way. I was teasing, but I’d never…” She was openly crying now, hugging her arms around herself. “Please, I’m so sorry. Please.”

She looked so pitiful that he relented, wrapping his arm around her shaking shoulders.

“I’m still annoyed Kagome”, he sighed. “But it’ll be okay so stop crying. No more pranks, okay?”

“No more”, she sobbed, pushing her face into his side. “I promise.”

Seeing a bench close by, he tugged her hand over to sit down beside him, patting her on the shoulder as she continued to cry.

“Hey c’mon now. Stop crying. I said it would be okay.”

“I really am sorry”, she sniffled. “I guess I don’t know when to stop. Maybe that was why Mama banned me and Souta from pranking each other.”

“You used to prank your brother? Hey, me too.” He rubbed her shoulder as she leaned into him. “Not all of them were bad. Look see, I still got kittens on my phone.” Kagome smiled, her cheeks wet with tears, and pulled out her own phone.

"Look, our lock screens match", she said softly, showing him the photo of them both standing in the sunshine surrounded by purple daisies. She wiped away her tears, taking a deep breath.

“I put the Nicholas Cage trivia team photo on the fridge so Sango and I can see it all the time”, she said shyly. “It makes me laugh. Are you gonna tell me how you did it?”

“Nope, I’ll take my secrets to the grave”, he grinned, then sighed. She still smelt like guilt and sadness. “C’mon Kagome. Cheer up.”

“Inuyasha, please believe me when I say that when I said ‘good boy’ I didn’t mean it the way you thought I did”, she hiccuped, looking at him intently. “I promise. I just didn’t think. I promise I won’t call you that again. And if I ever say anything that hurts your feelings like that, please tell me.”

“Okay. And I promise I won’t hide your things up high again. That was kinda mean too.”

“Okay. Are we good now?”

“We’re good.”

Kagome reached out her arms and hugged him around the waist. “Good. Because I hate fighting with you.”

He squeezed her back affectionately, then pulled her to her feet. “You ready to go kick some trivia butt Kittycat?”

“You bet.”

"Oh, and you need to make some more raisin cookies for Myoga. The old coot hasn't stopped raving about them."

#mamabearcat fanfics #first impressions #inukag fanfic

[therainroguefanfiction]

🍂 Never Too Late (Best Jeanist / Tsunagu Hakamada)

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Family, Slice of Life, Halloween, Autumn

Word Count: 3,884

Pairing: Quirkless Reader x Best Jeanist

World: Boku no Hero Academia

Prompt: [x] “You answer the door when I’m trick or treating and at first you say I’m way too old to be doing this but somehow I convince you to come out and join me.”

Author’s Note: This was written for the “Sweater Weather” collab over at the BNHA Sanctuary discord server. You can find the masterlist post [here] – make sure you check it out to read the other awesome entries for this collab! Thank you very much @pluviophile-imagines​ for hosting this collab. Happy Autumn everyone! For reference, I picture [this] and [this] for him out of costume. I tried finding the original creators and couldn’t, so if you know please let me know!

October 5th, 10:20 am 🍂

October had finally arrived, bringing with it a slew of brisk weather and a kaleidoscope of vivid oranges, reds, and browns. This was your favorite time of year, a time where you got to fully enjoy yourself, free of the shackles of adulthood. It felt so freeing, as if you were once again a child, ignorant of the ways of the world and just wanting to have fun.

Your eyes scanned the walls, lined with all manner of costumes. The back wall was dedicated to the top heroes, of course, the right wall featuring the usual suspects – cats, witches, zombies, even minions. The opposite wall was dedicated to characters from shows and movies.

Despite having been thinking this decision over for months, you still weren’t sure what you wanted to dress up as. There were just too many choices!

‘Maybe a pirate? Pirates are pretty cool. Ah, but black cats are a Halloween staple!’

After spending more time than you cared to admit, you eventually settled on a black cat pirate – which was just a pirate with black cat ears, a tail, and whiskers drawn on your face. With your costume now acquired, you left the back of the store to fill the basket with various decorations and as many different types of candy that you could find.

Satisfied that you couldn’t fit anything else in the basket, you headed for the front to check out, excited to get home and start decorating.

October 29th, 8:10 pm 🍂

“Ne, Katsuki -” you paused in the doorway of his bedroom, giving him a sheepish smile when multiple pairs of eyes turned to you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had your friends over.”

“Try fucking knocking next time,” Katsuki grunted angrily but his tone lacked its usual bite. “What do you want, Y/N?”

“Oh, right! I was going to ask if you wanted to go trick-or-treating with me!” you chirped happily, clapping your hands together.

“Like hell I want to do that dumb shit! I’m not a damn kid anymore!”

“A-Ah, right…” your expression fell but you tried your best to keep your smile intact. You should have known that he wouldn’t agree. Seeing this made his resolve falter but he was in front of his classmates and refused to show weakness to them. If he gave in to you, they’d never let him live it down.

“I’ll go with you!” Kaminari’s hand shot up into the air, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Like hell you will!” Katsuki snapped, smacking the blonde on the back of the head. “You’re a damn adult, you shouldn’t even be doing something so stupid.”

“Yeah…” your smile fell an inch, knowing that he was right. Was it really so wrong? Just because you had passed over into adulthood, you weren’t allowed to have fun? To relive the best time of your life?

“Come on, Bakugo, I bet it’d be fun!” Kirishima commented from across the table.

“Yeah!” Mina agreed, sending you a smile.

You shook your head, giving them a soft closed-eye smile. “It’s alright. Katsuki’s right, you’re not kids anymore! Whatever you guys choose to do on Halloween, please be safe!” You turned on your heel and left the room before anyone could say anything else.

Mina frowned at the closed door before turning to the ash blonde. “Your sibling is so sweet! You shouldn’t be so mean to them, Bakugo.”

“Just shut up and do your damn homework!” he snapped, vermillion eyes narrowed at his notebook as he crossed his arm across his chest. A small pool of guilt was settling within his gut, but he pushed it back just as he always did.

October 31st, 9:30 pm 🍂

You checked the clock as you adjusted your costume in the mirror. It was getting late and most of the kids had already returned home, their parents not wanting them out too late. You honestly felt nervous about going out trick-or-treating, not knowing how people were going to react. The negative part of your brain was telling you that it wouldn’t go over well.

So what if you were an adult? You just wanted to have fun for one night! To forget that you were quirkless and sheltered. To forget how unfair life had been.

Trick-or-treating reminded you of simpler times when your brother was more manageable and kind and was still friends with Izuku. You remembered fondly how your friends would always complain because you had to take the two out trick-or-treating instead of hanging out with them, but you didn’t mind. It was fun for you – plus Katsuki looked adorable as a werewolf and Izuku as a pumpkin.

Now they were both teenagers. Even if they did still want to go trick-or-treating, they would certainly rather be with friends rather than you. They didn’t need you to look after them anymore. They were heroes in training, after all, and you were just a quirkless adult trying to keep it together.

Shaking your head to rid yourself of the bad thoughts beginning to form inside your mind, you forced yourself to smile before stepping out of your room and down the stairs.

Masaru, your father, was just shutting the door after handing out candy to some kids. He smiled when he noticed you. “Heading out, sweetheart?”

You nodded. “Yup! How do I look, dad?”

“Gorgeous, as always!” he pulled you into a hug before pecking your forehead. “Be safe and don’t stay out too late, okay?”

“Okay~” you tried to hurry out the door before your mom realized that you were leaving the house, but she seemed to have a sixth sense about such things. Just as you tugged the door open, she came waltzing out of the kitchen.

“Y/N!” she cried, making your shoulders tense up as you turned slightly. She stood just inside the doorway, her brow furrowed. “You’re really going to go trick-or-treating? You’re too old for this and you…”

“And I’m quirkless and weak,” you finished for her, lips formed into a thin line. “Yeah, I got that, mom. You feel the need to remind me every day.”

“That’s not…” her vermillion eyes landed on her husband and she scowled. “Masaru, tell them that they are too old for this!”

“Honey,” he spoke softly, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Y/N isn’t hurting anyone, they’re just enjoying the season. Go on, Y/N. Have a fun night, sweetheart.”

You sent him a grateful look, ignoring your mom’s sputtering as you quickly slipped out of the house, slamming the door behind you.

The air outside was moist and cold, wind whipping through the trees and robbing them of their leaves. The ground was littered with them, each one a vibrant shade of orange, brown, or red. Despite the sky being covered by clouds, the bright light of the full moon managed to break through in streams.

While the streets were mostly empty, there were still several groups of kids scattered about, talking and laughing loudly. You decided it would be best to leave the neighborhood since most everyone knew who you were. You worried about them complaining to your parents. You already caused them so much trouble, you didn’t want to bring anymore onto them.

October 31st, 10:49 pm 🍂

As the night wore on, more and more people turned their lights off to indicate that they were no longer giving out candy or that they had run out. It was getting hard to find people still participating and most of the kids had given up by this point, deciding to hang out in the cemetery or return home.

‘I haven’t even been out that long, but… I guess I should head home so mom doesn’t end up hurting dad trying to come looking for me,’ you sighed, about to turn around when a light caught your attention from the end of the street. ‘It’s the only house on this street with its lights on. I guess one more can’t hurt!’

You steeled yourself, walking down the dark street toward the house. The street lamps were spread far enough apart to leave darkness between them, the bulbs dull and flickering as they tried to die out. The only decoration on the house was a cute little sign on the door of a pumpkin covered in glitter. The words Happy Halloween were stitched on the top in what looked to be jean fabric.

You had visited quite a few houses and had procured several different types of candy into your bag. Most of them, surprisingly, hadn’t given you a second thought when you knocked on their door. Others just gave you the stink eye but said nothing. There were a few, though, that had given you a stern lecture or cussed you out before slamming the door in your face.

For the first group of people, you believed you had just gotten lucky because you had walked up with or behind a group of kids and they most likely just assumed that you were with them. With no more kids around, though, you couldn’t exactly pull that stunt.

Taking a breath, you brought your hand up, rapping your knuckles on the wood. A minute or so passed before the door was pulled open, revealing a tall, thin man. His blonde hair was swept over his left eye and he wore a tan-colored turtle-neck sweater with a pair of blue jeans. He looked so… familiar, but you couldn’t quite place who he was.

You put on a bright smile, holding up the bag. “Trick-or-treat!”

He quirked a brow, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. “You’re a bit old to be trick-or-treating, don’t you think?”

Your smile didn’t falter because you had expected this already at every house. “Last time I checked, there was no age limit on having fun. I’m not breaking any laws, either. Now, if you don’t mind sir, please give me candy or tell me to leave.”

His blue eyes observed you for a moment, a spark of amusement within them. “Tell me, is it really so fun to do this?”

“I think you,” you nodded. “It reminds me of simpler, happier times. Maybe I’m stupid for trying to cling to that each year, but I’ll be damned if I give up now.”

His gaze locked with yours, softening at the pained look within your eyes. You hid it well, but he was trained to pick up on such things. He pushed away from the doorframe, stepping back inside the house to grab the candy bowl before holding it out to you. “Take what you want. I doubt any other kids will be coming around.”

“Thank you,” you offered him a smile before picking out a few pieces of your favorite candy. “Have a good night.”

“Wait a moment,” he held up his finger before disappearing into the house. When he returned, he was shrugging on a black jacket. “Let me walk you home.”

You quirked a brow as he pulled the door closed, sliding the key in to lock the door. “It doesn’t seem very smart to let a strange man know where I live.”

“That’s true,” he chuckled, keys clinking as he slipped them into his pocket. “Allow me to walk you to your neighborhood, then.”

“What a gentleman,” you smiled softly, beginning down the street with him at your side. “With that kind of attitude, you should be a hero.”

Amusement flickered through his eyes, lips twitching upward. “Hm, I hear being a hero is quite dangerous, though.”

“Yeah…” you turned your gaze to the ground, feeling a frown come to your lips. “That’s what worries me about my brother becoming one. It’s his dream, though, and even if I said anything about it, there’s no way he’d listen. He’s such a hard head.”

“I’m sure he’ll be a great hero one day.”

“He definitely will.”

Silence settled over the two of you as you made it back toward your home. As you passed by another street on the way, you suddenly paused because most of the houses on this street were still lit up and decorated to the nines. Several groups of older kids were making their rounds around the cul-de-sac.

“Ne, sir, do you want to experience trick-or-treating?” you grinned at him, excitement dancing within your eyes.

Blue eyes flickered from your own to the cul-de-sac and back. There was something about the innocent, pure gleam within your eyes that made it hard for him to say no. And it’s not like he had anything better to do with his night. “Sure, I’ll give it a try.”

“Great!” Without much thought, your hand slid into his, tugging him toward the first house. He didn’t understand why, but his heart started to pick up its pace upon feeling your warm skin on his despite the cold weather outside.

October 31st, 11:30 pm 🍂

Katsuki paced around his room, narrowed eyes darting to the clock every few minutes. Where the hell were you? The neighborhood was dark, the neighbors no longer handing out candy and no kids had come by in the past thirty minutes. You should have been home by now, so why weren’t you?

He could hear his mother in the living room pacing back and forth as she loudly voiced the thoughts within his head. The regret that was pooling within his belly from the other day was now getting worse as worry clawed at his insides. What if you had been captured by a villain? His eyes widened at the thought and he tore out of his room, feet stomping down the stairs.

“Katsuki! Where the hell are you going?!” Mitsuki shouted, pausing her pacing to look at her son. “It’s late!”

“None of your business, hag!” He snapped back, flinging the door open.

“At least put on a jacket!”

But he was already out the door, slamming it behind him as he took off in search of you. His heart was thundering in his chest and he could only hope that you were safe. If something had happened to you, he’d never forgive himself for not being there to protect you.

November 1st, 12:00 am 🍂

You giggled as you fell onto the swing, watching the blonde as he settled down beside you. “Thank you for indulging me.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled softly at you, crossing one leg over the other. “I have to admit, it was more fun than I expected it would be.”

“See~? I told you!”

He chuckled, poking you in the forehead with a slim finger. “So humble.”

You grinned, sticking your chest out. “One of my best qualities!”

“Did you have the night you were expecting?”

“No,” you shook your head, tilting your head back to look at the sky. Some of the clouds had cleared up, allowing more of the moon to shine down on you. “I never expected to meet such a nice person and convert them to the ways of trick-or-treating.”

He propped his chin up in his hand, smiling warmly at you as his eyes slid across your face. With the moonlight shining down on you, you looked so magical and he briefly wondered if you might actually be a witch. It would explain why he felt such a strong connection to you after only having just met you. He most definitely wanted to see you again.

“You never told me your name.”

“You never told me yours, either,” you grinned at him before holding out your hand. “Bakugo Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

His eyes widened at your last name. The image of his first meeting with Bakugo Katsuki filled his mind and it was almost laughable. There was no way such a sweet and kind person could be related to someone so loud and angry. He refused to believe it was anything other than a coincidence.

You tilted your head curiously. “Is something wrong?”

“No, sorry. You just reminded me of something.” His hand slid into yours, his skin ice cold from the wind. “Hakamada Tsunagu. It’s a pleasure to officially meet you, Y/N.”

Your cheeks warmed at the way he said your name. It was like honey flowing from his lips and you could definitely get used to hearing it.

November 1st, 12:10 am 🍂

Katsuki huffed as he ran down the street, eyes snapping from one side to the other as he desperately searched for you, calling out your name. He didn’t care that his voice was cracking or that the cold was turning his skin numb.

He was running past the park when he caught movement from the corner of his eye, head snapping around to find the source. Relief flooded him when he saw you walking away from the swings with a smile on your face. Without a second of hesitation, he rushed toward you, screaming out your name as if he hadn’t seen you in years.

Your eyes widened at the familiar voice of your baby brother. “Katsuki, what’s – oof.” His body slammed into yours, arms tight around your body as he buried his face in your neck, holding on to you for dear life. Your heart picked up speed, feeling your nerves begin to fray. Had something happened? “Katsuki -”

“Where the fuck have you been?!” he barked angrily, tightening his grip on you.

“Y-You knew I was going out tonight…” you gently rubbed his back. “Did you forget?”

“No I didn’t forget, dumbass!” he huffed, fingers digging into your back. As badly as he wanted to pull away so he could scold you properly, he was too afraid that you would see the worry and the fear lingering within his eyes. He hated feeling vulnerable, especially around you. He was supposed to be strong, a hero that could keep you safe no matter what. “It’s almost one in the morning!”

“Is it really?” your eyes widened and you understood why he was acting so worried. “I must have lost track of time, I’m sorry, Kat.”

Tsunagu didn’t know how to feel about the sight before him. He felt frustrated that Bakugo Katsuki was, indeed, related to you. He felt amused by how Katsuki was acting, surprised to see something other than plain annoyance within the boy. He also felt a bit sad knowing that his time with you had come to an end.

“You better be sorry!” When Katsuki felt like he had enough control over his emotions, he finally pulled back, keeping a firm grip on your shoulders as his narrowed eyes bore into your own. “You’re going to pay me back for this.”

You smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head. “I will, I’m sorry.”

“Great, now let’s go home -” he had grabbed your hand, turning toward the entrance of the park when he finally spotted the tall blonde whom he had failed to notice in his relief to see you. His eye twitched, a shitty look coming onto his face as he pointed his finger in the man’s face. “What the fuck are you doing with my sibling?!”

Tsunagu sighed, putting his hand on his hip. “Still as tactless as ever.”

“Wait,” you glanced between the two, blinking curiously. “Do you two know each other?”

“No!” Katsuki snapped, beginning to stomp away but you didn’t budge, turning your gaze to the taller male.

“Tsunagu? How do you know my brother?”

“You’re on a first-name basis already?!”

His blue eyes met yours and his expression softened. “I’m the hero he interned with after the sports festival, Y/N.”

“Don’t you dare use their first name, you bastard!!” Small explosions went off on Katsuki’s palm but the older male just rolled his eyes at him, more focused on how you were taking the news that he was, in fact, a pro hero.

Your eyes widened. “Oh… oh my god. You’re… you’re…”

He smiled warmly, his voice soft. “The number three pro hero, Best Jeanist. At your service, Y/N.” he reached for your hand but Katsuki smacked it away, putting himself between the two of you.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re planning with my sibling, but you can forget it!” Katsuki tugged on your arm. “We’re going home, Y/N!” But you still didn’t move, staring wide-eyed at the tall man before you.

Now you understood why he looked so familiar and you wanted to smack yourself for not realizing it on your own. You had treated him so normally, as if he were just some average person. He isn’t an average person, though, he’s a great and powerful hero, one that had looked after your brother once upon a time.

Tsunagu shifted, his lips tugging down. It was subtle, but he could sense the change in the dynamic between the two of you and he didn’t like it, taking a step closer to you. “Y/N -”

You suddenly bowed, eyes screwed shut. “I apologize for being so flippant with you, Best Jeanist. I didn’t realize who you were.”

He reached for your shoulders and noticed Katsuki reaching for his arm. He was feeling annoyed now, tired of the boy interrupting him and getting between the two of you so he activated his quirk, the threads of his jeans unraveling to bind the younger Bakugo in place. He growled from beneath the cloth, struggling to break his binds.

Your eyes shimmered with wonder as you saw his quirk in action, taking note of the small holes that allowed you to see the milky skin of his outer thigh. You felt your cheeks heating up again when his hands rested on your shoulders, lithe fingers gently squeezing your skin beneath the costume.

“You have nothing to apologize for. Please don’t change how you act around me just because I’m a hero.” His eyes were so sincere and warm as his hand slipped up to your cheek, smiling at the warmth he felt there. “I may be a hero, but I’m still a person. I really did enjoy my time with you tonight.”

“I did, too,” you responded softly, offering him a smile before glancing at your brother, who was still struggling against the fabric. “We really should get home, though. Our mother’s going to have a fit…”

“Of course,” he reluctantly released the boy, dodging backward when Katsuki tried to attack him with an explosion.

“Katsuki!” you scowled, grabbing the back of his shirt without any hesitation, tugging him backward before locking your arm around his neck. “Don’t be so disrespectful!”

“Che, whatever,” he scoffed, fingers wrapping around your wrist as he tugged you toward the entrance of the park. You let him for a few paces before you stopped, turning to look back at the blonde that hadn’t moved.

“Are you coming, Tsunagu?”

He gave you a surprised look. “You want me to?”

“Well, you did say you were going to escort me home,” you smiled, biting your lip in thought before finding the nerve to say the next thing you wanted to. “Besides, you need to know where I live if you’re going to pick me up for our date tomorrow.”

His eyes widened a fraction before he chuckled, easily closing the distance with his long legs. You held your hand out to grab his, fingers lacing together. Katsuki grumbled loudly, aiming insults at the blonde as the three of you headed to the Bakugo household, but neither of you were paying attention to him.

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

#boku no hero academia #halloween #best jeanist #my hero academia #boku no hero academia scenarios #my hero academia scenarios #hakamada tsunagu #anime #anime scenarios #anime imagines #writing #creative writing #writeblr #scenario #scenarios #anime scenario #reader insert #reader-insert #reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfics #anime fanfic #anime fanfics #one shot #fluff #angst #family #slice of life #holiday

[georgemackayhey]

Like Real People Do

“Hii can you do an imagine, "Your first time with George" maybe as an insecure/uneasy reader"

"Can you pleeaaassse write more nsfw stuff? More Than A Night Out gave me my rights"

Alright yall, heed the 18+ warning! 

Seriously, I really don't want to block anyone (I love yall!) On that note... I wouldn't say this theme is my strong suit, nor have I been in a good headspace, but boy did I try my best ♡ 

w/c: 3k

───※ ·❆· ※───

You didn't date.

You called off meeting up with strangers in bars and listening to them tell half-assed life stories, embellishing in hopes they'd get to have their way with you in the same evening.

You were happy to mingle among friends on weekends and at parties, but going home alone felt safe. Keeping to yourself was the best bet, having learned your lesson by now. You recalled more unpleasant domestic experiences than ones that left you daydreaming of more. So you simply stayed single.

Some of your friends didn't regard your limits, tricking you into double dates and the like. Other friends understood but still gushed over their brothers and cousins in hopes you'd be intrigued by their qualities and demand to be introduced with wedding rings on standby.

And then there were the friends who never asked or bothered you about it at all. George was one of those friends.

He was your ride to your friend groups monthly movie theater meet up's. And he always let you take home his leftovers after dinners he wasted chatting with your mutual friends about books and culture.

In turn, you let George borrow your favorite albums. And you'd always saved him a seat in the back of bars you had to show up to for friend's birthday parties, while they threw themselves between strangers on the dance floor. Times like then were when you got to know George best.

And during the last month of summer, George invited everyone to take over a beach house big enough for your ever-expanding group and more. Apparently some of his distant family owned the property but were hardly ever in the area to enjoy it. So they gave George a spare key, and insisted he treated the place like his own.

And thankfully, then, between your friends racing to the shore in the witching hour, and when everyone split up into pairs for the evening, George kept you company. You made a habit of joining each other on the rickety front porch, sharing a drink, and usually sitting in silence.

But there were nights you talked about the constellations you could see above the roaring ocean. And where you'd like to live if you had an unlimited budget. Where you'd come from and what you wanted, and didn't.

You went home to the most dreary September of all time. You used to adore the solitude of your dull apartment. But you missed waking up to your friend's laughter, having someone, if not many more, to enjoy market runs and mealtimes with. You had never felt more lonely. And you couldn't stop thinking of George.

When he came round to give you a lift to the movie theater, your usual ride together was quiet. The silence between you was heavy- you wondered if he noticed. You sat together in a boring film. Or maybe it was the best of all time. You could only focus on how close George was to you, how you'd recognized the feeling of his company. You wondered how to ask him to come around more often, without sounding pathetically desperate.

Luckily birthday parties and Halloween bashes kept coming. And you kept finding quiet places to listen to George tell his stories. And he would always share his drink, and ask about your family, and how you were doing.

One night when he invited everyone around to his flat and only a couple of your friends managed to show up, they headed out soon after dinner. You were left alone in George's kitchen to help clean up and wonder what to do with the rest of the early blue evening.

And even though your heart beat in your throat, and everything you thought to say sounded stupid in your head, you determined it was time.

During a much too easy card game at Georges table, when a conversation about some of the horrifically silly things George had witnessed you manage in the past; you decided to stop testing the waters, and address them.

"I can't believe you put up with me." You grinned, peering past your hand of playing cards to the guy sat beside you.

"I just like you," George answered simply, his ocean eye flickering up to meet yours for a beat.

"Really?" You asked, pushing for him to say more, hoping he got the hint.

"I really do." George grinned shyly, turning his attention back to his hand of playing cards he kept accidentally giving you glimpses of. You watched George bite his lip and fiddle with the cards as if he were arranging them just so.

"What if... I like you too?" It wasn't just his tousled yellow hair, or the way his smile was warmer than a ray of sun. It was his lame jokes. His soft answers. Him.

"You don't date." George rose a brow, keeping his eyes turned away. He wasn't bittered or mocking. He was accepting. George laid down his cards, to a game you weren't focused on at all anymore.

"I like you, George." You admit in a hush. His stunning eyes met yours. He seemed to consider your words, and much more. He started to speak a couple of times as he searched your features.

"So maybe... we can start slow..." You offered. You had never planned on opening up to anyone. But George had stuck around. He was always there when you needed him even when you hadn't known what you needed. He didn't make fun of your unreasonable anxieties and he always laughed at your jokes. Even the ones you knew weren't funny. You hadn't expected to ever let anyone close enough, you hadn't trusted anyone could feel like home. But before you could even decide, it was as if your heart grew a mind of its own and lept right out of your chest into George's orbit. So since he already seemed to have you, it seemed like common courtesy to at least let the guy know.

With a shy smile, George bore his brilliant blue eyes into yours, searching them for assurance. As you looked to each other you felt his knuckles brush yours, the back of his hand nervously creeping closer. George took one of his fingers and looped it around one of yours while he agreed that it would be silly for two people who felt the same way about each other to do nothing about it. So you did.

George started coming around when there wasn't any reason to, sometimes bringing take away, or asking you on walks around the park. Sometimes you'd sit in silence next to your favorite old tree and enjoy that last purple swirls in the dusk sky. And sometimes you'd watch films, one after another, pausing only to argue over the ending or make silly predictions.  And times like then, you curled into George's side like a sleepy cat. He'd carded his warm hand through your hair as you drifted off, content.

You got snowed into his flat when you showed up a few hours before the first-holiday party of the season; to help bake treats for everyone. As ice froze everyone's doors shut, the party was swiftly canceled but your plans for the evening weren't ruined at all.

George set up his den with extra blankets, finding the holiday channel on the telly, standing to refill your cup of tea during commercials so you didn't have to move. He kissed you that night, soft and kind, and slow. You both fell asleep on the floor among the mess of all the blankets he owned, while snow piled up and over the window sills.

You spent New Year's Eve much like the past couple before, watching your wild group of pals take shots and dance to bad music. George listened to you talk as you waited for the new year to set in, and he kept one of his fingers looped around yours almost all night long.

When the snow started to melt and your group of friends started squeezing into their cut off jeans from the year before, George invited everyone back to the beach house. He set a date and sent out invitations in the mail like it was the damn 1800's. Most every rsvp got sent back with the box labeled "going "grossly marked up.

George offered to give you a lift there, a day early so he could stock up on emergency snacks and soaps and even more DVDs in case the rains came and ruined your fun on the shore. You agreed happily and walked through the isles of a department store together, picking out essentials based on how well you knew your group of friends who might need them.

And while you laughed and helped and listened, you grew increasingly more fucking terrified. Because you'd never spent so long enjoying one person's company. You were enamored with George yes, but what's more, was- you trusted him. You never thought it was possible. But you really did. And the thing that you were most scared of, was having to accept the possibility that he didn't feel the same way.

Things like this had gone wrong before. Granted, things had never gone remotely close to this right before, either. But you still prepared yourself to hurt. It was always a possibility you were too afraid of risking. But George was different. You somehow knew even if he hurt you, it would be the loveliest heartbreak you'd ever feel.

You got to the beach house, completely abandoned since the last time you left it. You found your someone's favorite lost t-shirt in one of the bathrooms, and a lot of dust on the shelves. After clearing away some of the cobwebs and unloading all your groceries to their respective places, night began to fall.

The sky was still blue enough to admire the roaring ocean from the front porch. George brought out a couple of drinks, and you sat there together like you had the summer before. Only now, it was a little too chilly. So you said goodnight to the scenery, making a note of spending extra time to soak up its beauty the next morning.

And on your way inside you joked about how someone was bound to forget to pack something they needed, or bring one of the things George asked them to. You were wrapped up in laughter as you turned out the lights and drifted to settle in.

When you headed to the bedroom where all your bags had been discarded, you scurried off to the ensuite shower. This was the room George stayed in last year, a space you'd never stepped foot near until tonight.

And when you stepped back out into the bedroom, you realized you didn't want to leave.

George was busy turning down his bed covers to the dim night light in a far off corner. A dark shine beamed in from the moon in the window next to the quilted bed, and George never looked more beautiful- perfectly tousled hair. Kind, sleepy eyes. Yeah, you'd let him break your heart.

"What?" He laughed in a warm low rumble, catching you staring. You bit back a chuckle and crossed the room to meet him.

"I just love you. That's all." You informed, circling one of your fingers around his, gazing up to the guy.

You'd said so in passing, during game nights he helped you win and in the middle of lunches he'd managed to talk you into ordering. But nothing prompted you now, and the statement held an all-new kind of weight.

"I love you, too," George whispered in turn, raising his other hand to your cheek.

"Can I stay in here? With you?" You asked, keeping your gaze set and your voice low even though no one else was around to hear.

"I'd like that." George assured with a tiny grin.

You clamored into the big bed, pointing out the window to the moon over the ocean. George eased in behind you, gazing all the same. You tangled your hands together staring out the window for a while, giggling over nothing every now and again. He was so impossibly close, so warm next to you.

"George." You turned your head slowly, catching his attention. He looked at you, silently wondering what you wanted. But somehow you didn't need to say.

Somehow he knew to lean in for a kiss, soft and sweet. When he pulled away, you could tell he didn't want to. When George looked at you, you could tell he longed for more, but still kept his distance, kept your meek nature in mind. He was too kind, too considerate. There weren't words to convey how you felt. You knew what came next. You wanted George.

You reached for his hand, and brought it to rest in the dip of your waist. He kept his eyes steady on yours while his thumb brushed over the skin exposed where your shirt had ridden up.

"Kiss me again?" You asked, barely a whisper. George leaned in, almost before you could finish asking, to press his mouth against yours. You grabbed a fist full of his shirt to pull him closer while George let his hand travel to the small of your back, holding you perfectly against him. He kissed you slow and deep like he was trying to put you in a trance.

Whether he meant to or not, you wondered if it worked, as you melted into the mattress all while lazily pulling him almost all the way on top of you. This was as far as you'd ever taken things with George, yanking at each other's clothes while you kissed until you couldn't breathe.

So when you gently pushed George away, he started to retract back to his side of the bed without putting up a fight. But you sat up too. And George watched on in wonder when you sheepishly slid into his lap, your knees on either side of his hips.

Without a word you pulled George's shirt up, silently suggesting he take it all the way off.

When he did, you didn't relish the sight long before you dove in for another kiss. His skin was burning, and you could feel his heart hammer when your hand traveled across his chest. You moved your kisses to his neck, reveling in the feeling of being so close. George kept one arm gently wrapped around you as your teeth grazed a spot under his ear that made his breath catch in his throat.

"Y/n. Are you- Do you..." George began, keeping his hold around you all the same. You pulled away, gazing to George through your lashes while your heart teetered on the edge.

"Do you not want to?" You worried. You were so finally sure. But George might not have been. So you prepared to be let down gently, knowing George would at least be kind enough to break your fall.

"Yes." George let out a breathy laugh, reaching to hold your head in both of his hands. "Of course I want to do this. But I know how you feel and if you don't-"

"I trust you, George." You nodded, searching his eyes while a smile bloomed across your face. You'd been so nervous for a moment like this to come true. But everything was different with George. He made you laugh when you never expected to, he made you think about things in ways you'd never even considered. He was so the one for you.

You wrapped your fingers around George's wrist, bringing his plus to your lips. You watched George's eyes flutter as you planted a small kiss there, before moving his hand to your hip.

"Just go slow." You nodded, watching George's eyes open to meet yours. You leaned your forehead against his while he nodded, making you laugh.

He decorated your cheeks with gentle pecks and moved his hands under the hem of your shirt as you leaned in to capture his lips with yours again. And because you spent a while that way, you weren't nervous to act upon taking things even further.

Kisses turned seering as George wrangled your shirt off. His lips traveled down your throat as you settled deeper into his lap, shocked by how easy this was. Your kisses grew longer and sloppier while your layers started to collect on the floor.

You impressed yourself by how effortlessly you reach to pull away George's trousers. He managed to kick them aside while you kept your lips on his, laughing between breaks for air.

But when he pulled you back into his lap, when his fingers danced around your waistband, you were suddenly swept up in the realization that this was happening. Like, really happening.

"Uh, wait a second." You halted in a shaky breath. You didn't want to stop, not completely. You just needed to assess things for a moment, to catch up with this new reality in which this wasn't upsetting or dull or any of the things being with anyone else ever was.

George stalled in an instant, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. "Do you want to stop?" He asked gently, hands firmly pressed against your back, eyes glowing right into yours.

"No way." You breathed with a grin. You knew it would be better than before, with George. Probably the best. It already was, you realized with a smile, encouraging George one more time. Your hips rolled against his, causing his heavenly sigh in your ear.

He wriggled you out of the last of your clothes and made you feel like a wonder of the world, tracing the shapes you were made up of with his pretty fingers. By the time you were laid against the pillows admiring the halo of light ringing around George's waves of hair, he asked again if you were sure about this.

"So long as you are." You swallowed.

"Of course I'm sure. God, I'm so sure." George pressed a kiss to your face between sentences, making you giggle and swoon all at once. "I've never been so sure of anyone but you. I'd like to keep it that way." George rambled, peppering a few more loving, gentle kisses to your cheek. "But if you want to stop for any reason, we'll stop. Just say so."

"Thank you, George." You grinned after a beat, knowing he really meant it. Recognizing how deeply he really cared for you, watching him search your face for validation. Watching George watch you, contentedly, like he had dozens of times before now. He gave you a slowly sleepy blink, ocean blue eyes shining brighter when they opened again.

George leaned closer, hovering over you with his eyes locked on yours. He molded a kiss to your lips before anything. Then to your cheek. Then his eyes fluttered to meet yours once more.

"Slow." You rose a brow, whispering a reminder, but it was really more of a green light for him to finally take the next step.

George repeated you, in a barely audible hush, soaking up the look in your eye. A lithe grin painted his lips while you held your breath. You accounted for the feeling of his fingers loosely tangled in your hair, his thumb brushing across your temple every now and again. You'd nearly forgotten everything else while swimming in those warm icy eyes of his. He didn't break you from your reverie when he gave a small nod. The gesture only settled you further, as you responded by lacing your fingers around the back of his neck.

George kept his hand nearly cradling your head as he pushed closer. His thumb brushing across the pulse of your temple was keeping you grounded while your heart threatened to soar into the clouds. While your breathing grew deeper, while he moved as close as he could until he couldn't anymore.

"You okay?" George asked, his voice beautifully strained.

"Uh-huh." You gazed at him through hooded eyes as you adjusted everything, including the realization that this was happening. He wasn't even moving yet. And he waited until you had to ask him to, with his head buried in your neck. After a couple of breaths, you looked to George, giving him a nod. He pressed his forehead against yours and moved his hips.

A tame, steady pace set in as you stopped George from asking if you were alright, again, assuring him you were really, very good. Your raspy encouragement must have given George the sound authority to go about awing you further.

He kept one hand against your temple while his other trailed down your side, fingers deliberately pressed into your skin as he brought your leg around his hip. George's strong-arm hooked under your back to keep you secured against him. He picked up the pace as your hands tangled in his hair, around his shoulder, holding on to the moment. To George.

You wondered why you waited so long to feel this damned good, while George spoke low in your ear. He listed off all the things he liked best about you, and why. He planted clumsy kisses to your lips. He made you see stars brighter than all the far off constellations you were used to pointing out from the shoreline. You seemed to float among them, above everything. Time slowed down while your heart sped up, somehow, and while everything around you faded into an impossibly dull background, you still had George.

His weight was warm and secure. His breath was hot on your neck. His voice was saccharine in your ear.  When he eventually eased next to your side in a heap, the cool of the night was still shielded by him.

You snuggled to his chest, like an old sleepy cat while he kept repeating how he loved you. You said so too, as many times as you could manage before drifting to sleep all tangled together.

The next morning came slow. You made coffee and watched the sunrise above the waves from the porch. When your friends started showing up in pairs and trios and more, they all seemed sort of relieved to find you and George attached at the hip. They greeted you as if you'd always been a packaged deal, and they didn't bat an eye when you stuck together to roam the vast empty beach. There was no fighting over choosing partners when someone broke out a new board game that night. When your friends were all gathered around the dinner table, and all the extra snacks and gifts and surprises for the summer were stored away, you still had George.

Maybe things wouldn't always be so easy. There would likely be fights and upsets and questions that didn't always have answers. But George was worth it. You had him now, you loved him and he couldn't stop reminding how dearly he loved you. Nothing had ever hurt so good before. You decided to keep it that way.

───※ ·❆· ※───

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic

[breanne-says-boo]

October 2020 NYCC - What We Do in The Shadows panel

We did learn a little bit more about the upcoming Season 3 in this panel! Things bolded are relevant to S3 (**potential spoilers ahead under the cut!**)

Video can be found here [ X ]

Kathryn VanArendonk (a critic for Vulture) was the moderator for the panel and was joined by Mark (Colin Robinson), Kayvan (Nandor), Harvey (Guillermo), Matt (Laszlo), Natasia (Nadja), as well as showwriter Stefani Robinson and producer/writer Paul Simms. Kathryn wrote this article about the show if you would like to read it.

Details below under the cut --->

Kathryn asked what each of their character would be doing in quarantine and how they would be handling COVID-19:

Kayvan: He immediately says there would be a strain between Nandor and Guillermo, especially with there being a lack of victims for him to eat. Nandor would make Guillermo order LOTS of delivery and eat the delivery workers.

Harvey: it would be very awkward in the house for Guillermo particularly after the events of the season 2 finale.

Paul: Guillermo would be the only one in the house to wear a mask because he’s really the only one who cares/pays attention. The vampires would be confused/irritated by it and ask him to take off his “stupid costume”

Natasia: The vamps would probably be like the people who wear the masks under their noses if they wear them at all. They might be sort of unsympathetic and say “Oh, here we go again” having lived through many pandemics. The vamps might take advantage of everyone being at home but Guillermo might be stressed having to worry which of their victims have COVID and touching the bodies to throw them out. Harvey adds on and imagines that maybe it’s revealed that one of the vampires in the house is responsible for a different pandemic like the Spanish Flu or something to that effect.

Mark: Colin is a no-masker (for the purpose of irritating others) and getting into arguments about his constitutional rights inside stores. He’d probably be pretty hungry since he mostly feeds at the office and his coworkers would have to work at home.

Matt: They’d probably have no idea because they don’t watch the news or pay attention to current events at all

Kathryn immediately then asks about the Nandermo relationship- she asks Harvey and Kayvan if their characters love each other and how that relationship is developing.

Harvey: he started playing Guillermo with this infatuation with Nandor and that there were “blurred lines” in how he sees Nandor. He then explains that it seems kind of curious to the audience why Guillermo would continue to serve Nandor and help the vamps they continue to treat him so badly, and in Harvey’s mind, Guillermo is just driven by love and driven by emotion. He’s just very human and wants to do the right thing. (Harvey then “steals” Kayvan’s question about if Nandor is in love with Guillermo and Kayvan goes into Nandor-mode and begins to chastise Guillermo for being rude. Nandor: “Do you see what I have to put up with?”)

Kayvan: Nandor needs Guillermo and is “wrestling with his feelings” towards Guillermo. It is “heading towards a dangerous” territory for him because he “can’t be falling again after all [his] marriages”...he’s excited to see what happens next, but things are pretty “rocky” for them as of where we left them off.

My thoughts: seems like this is indicating a role-reversal of sorts in season 3, with Guillermo falling out of his infatuation with Nandor and Nandor falling in love with Guillermo? 

Kathryn asks Matt about what it’s like doing the “musical” epsiode for Laszlo since he has legitimate music experience (Matt sort of laughs about her use of “legit” in regards to his music).

Matt says its essentially demo song work. It’s good fun doing short ideas for pitching these 30 second songs in the space with ‘Tasia (Natasia)

Natasia: says it was a dream to do the songs with Matt and “plant seeds” in the work space because of Matt’s musical background. She mentions that Mark had an improv moment where Colin goes on stage to join Nadja and Laszlo and begin singing/rapping. Mark says that Colin begins jokingly doing it but then we see him get more into the song and enjoying it.

Paul says that if we like the prospective idea of Colin singing, we should be excited because Colin gets a singing/song moment in season 3. Paul then says something along the lines of that he’s happy they get to do these sort of bits and that all the casts members go along with it because “We are all dedicated to being silly...and stupid in a clever way.”

Kathryn then asks the whole group what kind of scenes do they look forward to doing for their characters and which scenes they like to watch their co-stars taken on

Harvey: likes doing action stuff and getting the change to play almost like these two different personalities in Guillermo- his quieter side and his badass side! He has a fun time with all his cast mates doing scenes and watching them. He has a hard time doing some scenes with Kayvan because he makes Harvey laugh and takes him out of character.

Kayvan: he likes doing scenes with Karvey because of the “tenderness.” He also like the house meeting scenes because they spin out into something outrageous or hilarious that happens after the fact.

Natasia: she likes doing Talking Heads scenes (when the scene is just of their characters speaking to the audience and to each other like in an interview) with Matt. She also likes doing the Fancy Room scenes, scenes with other women, and scenes with Shaun/Sean the neighbor. She likes scenes where Nandor is “saying thick stuff” because of the contrast of Nandor being this fearless warrior but also really stupid. She likes scenes where Matt has to do stuff really fast or has to run because it makes her laugh.

Matt: likes doing “loose” scenes where they can do anything that they want to do with a scene. He also likes doing the Talking Heads scenes with Natasia and watching the stuntmen do stuff he’s supposed to be doing. Apparently Kayvan let out somehow that Matt is afraid of heights. Kayvan: “Did I?...you’re getting better though...”

Mark: likes opportunities to play off of what the others say. He likes watching scenes where “Matt deal with Kayvan” because Laszlo can’t stand fools even though [Nandor] is one of the biggest fools (he says Laszlo but I think he meant Nandor with the mention of Kayvan). Scenes where they belittle Guillermo and scenes with Natasia are also fun.

Then Paul said he had a special guest who could also answer this question and in popped Nadja doll into the chat in her own separate video box. They were teasing her for being “on mute” and had her answer yes/no questions by nodding her head.

Kathryn asks Stefani about debates in the writer’s room regarding vampire biology and life. She asks Stefani about what’s fun about bringing in new creatures to the show and developing the lore about the vampires.

Stefani: it’s fun but it’s also hard in the writer’s room making decisions about these sort of things. The ability to pick and choose parts of the lore, but there can be contradictions they have to deal with. She wants the lore and the aspects of their nature to come together and be grounded so that it’s fun but isn’t too ridiculous. She considers how these elements/creatures can be “show-pieces” for the characters to interact with and how they contribute to the story and how they are funny.

Stefani then notes that Jermaine was very anti-leprechaun but Paul said he tried to reason with him. They try to decide among themselves what “fits” within their world and what doesn’t but there really isn’t a specific reason for what they go with.

Paul says there will be 3-4 new kinds of creatures in season 3. But no aliens, he notes. 

Natasia asks if somehow Sesame Street/Muppets would exist within their world and could make a cameo (I’m guessing because of the Count connection?) Paul jokes and says “Stefani, I don’t know what you’re doing tomorrow...but if we can schedule another meeting we could spend 6 hours making this happen.” Natasia then says she would love to see Miss Piggy and Nadja have some great chats. Same with Kermit and Nandor. Matt says he thinks Guillermo should find R2D2 buried in the garden but none of their characters recognize it.

All of season 3 is currently written. Kathryn asks about anything else they can tease for us:

Paul says there is in fact a bit of dialogue (3/4 of a page) about Kermit the frog that Natasia “accidentally came upon” (I don’t know how serious he is about this).

The vampires will go on a roadtrip! They will be traveling someplace they don’t normally go to, and the issue of having to bring soil from their homeland will be brought up

There is a birthday! It’s a big important birthday...for Colin! (maybe Colin’s song moment is him singing Happy Birthday?)

Nandor is looking for love and decides that it is time for him to find a partner

Some characters will be coming back, including Shaun/Sean the neighbor who will appear in two episodes

#wwdits fx #What We Do in the Shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #nycc #wwdits tv #wwdits