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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

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part vii

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

Welcome back, friends! I know it’s been a long time since I updated, and I’m sorry for that - I just finished up my junior year of college, and combined with all of the protesting an unrest going on in the US (where I’m from) it’s been hard to write on schedule. On that note, I want to say that as a person and a writer I unequivocally stand with the Black Lives Matter movement and those protesting for an end to police brutality, the demilitarization and downsizing of the police, and equal rights for all - noting especially that these issues particularly affect LGBTQ+ people of color, particularly Black trans women. I am always striving to keep myself as educated and informed on how to be an antiracist, and encourage everyone to take a look at https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/ for resources to educate yourself, donation links if you’re able, and petitions to sign. Breonna Taylor’s murderers still have not been arrested. I love writing, and I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. Please reblog as always, and pop into my inbox and let me know what you think!

part vii

February 14

Dress like I’m going to a diner? Cass was more than a little confused as she pulled one leg through the pair of her good jeans (the ones without ripped knees, she wore them out with Mat and to less-important meetings and even to church once or twice when she was feeling particularly daring) as she slipped into her pea coat, toying with the button by her wrist as she opened the door to the crisp February air. It wasn’t snowing, but it was cold enough that her hands were still jammed firmly in her coat pockets. She could see her breath when she breathed out. Matt pulled up a few minutes, an apologetic look on his face as he slammed his hazards on and scrambled over the chair to push her door open.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mat said breathlessly. “Parkway was backed up.”

Cass waved him off. “It’s not a big deal, just crank the heat up.”

“I know you said you didn’t want anything too fancy, so I hope you like it,” he added hesitantly, looking in between her and the road as he turned a corner.

Cass squeezed his hand that was hovering just above the gear shift. “I’m sure I’ll love it, Mat.”

It really had been hard for Mat to figure out what to do for Valentine’s. He was leaving the next day for a weeklong road trip, but it was still, you know, Valentine’s, and he wanted so badly to get it right. So he tapped Jordan, called Tito, even somehow got ahold of her roommates to ask them what they thought she might be interested in. He wouldn’t admit it, but there also might have been a text or two back home to his sister for a second (third? fourth?) opinion. He wanted it to be perfect, but even more than that, he wanted it to be her. Dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant and a Tiffany’s necklace might be all well and good, but it didn’t really matter if the proverbial shoe didn’t fit. The handful of Valentine’s dates he’d gone on in the past had mostly been the standard roses-and-chocolates type, and while Cass did love chocolate, this evening meant so much more to him than any previous attempt.

He didn’t want to do anything to mess it up, anything to jeopardize what was hands-down the most meaningful and serious relationship he’d ever been in. He’d dated girls for longer, sure, but there was something about what he had with Cass that made him feel like she had been in his life forever, like she was already a permanent fixture who made everything else make sense. They drove down the island of Manhattan, his thumb running back and forth over the palm of her hand until he pulled into a hotel parking lot. Cass looked at him quizzically. “Easiest place to park,” Mat said by way of an answer.

He parked, opening Cass’s door and helping her out. “Where are you taking me?” Cass said with a small laugh, looking across the street at the dozens of couples taking an early dinner.

Mat held up a finger. “It should be...right up here,” he said, double-checking his phone. “Ah-ha!”

A dusty green awning and flyer-covered window greeted the couple. It was a pizzeria, and it was perfect. It wasn’t just the fact that, like any sane person, Cass loved pizza, but the fact he knew what she wanted and prioritized that over any expectation or preconception about what the “right” way to celebrate was. And she could really go for a dollar slice.

They squeezed into a two-top table in the corner. Cass hung her bag on the back of her chair, scooping back to go order at the counter. When it came to food, Mat was a simple man with simple tastes. He liked pepperoni. “I got us garlic knots because it’s Valentine’s day and I love you,” she said, setting down the trays, “and also because I’d willingly murder a man for garlic.”

Mat picked one up, biting in and nearly moaning. God, these are good. “Babe, you’re going to be a lawyer. You can’t just go around getting yourself arrested for murder. I don’t think your garlic defense would go over well with the judge.”

Cass shrugged. “I can get myself off.” Mat raised an eyebrow. “Ew!” She threw a packet of red pepper at Mat, promptly hitting him square in the chest. “Get your mind out of the gutter. There are children present.” To be fair, aside from them the restaurant was filled mostly with high school students, nervously holding hands and sipping each others’ Cokes while they tried desperately to make small talk. And to be fair, she could get herself off.

“Are you finally going to tell me what we’re doing?” Cass asked, biting into the last bit of her crust.

“In a minute,” Mat said, twisting around to rustle through the pocket of his leather jacket. He pulled out a small, flat square box, sliding it over the table to her. Cass traced the edges delicately with a finger.

Mat smiled softly at her. “Open it.”

Cass tapped the box against her palm until the bottom fell softly into her hand. Inside, nestled in a cloud of cotton, was a beautiful silver bar necklace. It was simple, elegant, not too flashy. But it was her, and it was hers.

“I know you don’t like me spending money on you,” Mat shrugged, “but you deserve nice things. You deserve to be treated well.” He reached over the table to tuck a curl behind her ear.

She picked it up, touching the chain, clasp, pendant. “Turn it over,” Mat said pointedly, with a smile on his face. Cass flipped it. There was an engraving on the back — well, two, really. 10-28-20. That one she knew. That one was their anniversary. WWRD. That one she didn’t know. Glancing back up towards Mat with a confused look on her face, she raised an eyebrow. “What would Ruth do,” Mat supplied. It took Cass a moment, and once she realized, she almost fell over, dissolving into peals of laughter. What would Ruth do? “I know I’m nothing but a filthy Canadian,” Mat started, “but I also know you love her and look up to her. You don’t just have a mug with someone’s face on it for no reason.” That was true. For Secret Santa last Christmas, Ryanne had 100% gotten Cass a mug with Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s face on it. And she 100% used it every day for her morning tea.

“Plus, I read on Wikipedia that before she was a judge, she was a lawyer and did a lot for women’s rights and stuff. Which is really cool.” Cass nodded. That’s sweet, she thought, he actually did his homework.

It was Cass’s turn to turn to Mat, leaning forward and cupping his cheek gently. He leaned into her touch. “It’s beautiful, Mat. I love it.”

“Let me put it on for you?” Mat asked. Cass nodded, he stood up and shuffled behind her, delicately grabbing the necklace and brushing her hair to one side. Cass shivered at the touch of his fingertips. After a few seconds, he managed to clasp it, leaning down and brushing a kiss on her shoulder before walking back to his side and grabbing his jacket. “You ready to take off?” His eyes flickered down towards his watch. It was nearing 7:30. “We’ve got to be somewhere by 8, but they said to get there early.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” Cass asked curiously.

Mat cracked a grin, sliding her hand into his as they walked out of the restaurant. “You’ll see.”

Two minutes of walking later and Cass was staring into the lights of Broadway. Even living only a few hours away, she had only been once before. The Lion King, in 5th grade. Her little sister Eliana was more of a theatre kid than Cass; field hockey and lacrosse kept her too busy in high school, any spare time she had between sports and work study was spent spending time with friends or reading old books. Eliana was four years younger than her, and when she got the lead in Heathers, Cass had never been happier to live only twenty minutes away from home. El killed it, she got to have a night at home, and was able to make pancakes with her mom in the morning. It was a win-win-win scenario. But Cass still loved musicals, listened to soundtracks while she studied, tried to make the drive once a year to Boston — Eliana was at BU — to see a winter or spring show.

So when she was suddenly looking up at the ten-foot-tall poster for Waitress, her mouth kept opening and closing like a fish. “Do you like it?” Mat asked hesitantly. “We can find something else to do if you’re not into it, I know —”

Cass cut him off, squeezing his hand tightly and standing on her tippy toes to press a kiss to his jaw. “It’s amazing, Mat. I just didn’t know what to say. I still don’t, really. This is such an...unexpected gift. But I love it.” Mat relaxed. He genuinely was nervous about the choice; her roommates had told him that she liked the soundtrack and she had recommended that Sara Bareilles album to him way back in October, but he didn’t want to assume that meant she’d want to see it live. Mat was glad that he was wrong.

Mat gently pulled the tickets out of his coat pocket, flashing them to the usher and handing Cass’s to her. “You ready for a show?”

---

“So, what did you think?” Cass asked as they walked out of the theater.

“I liked it!” Mat said. And he really had liked it. Some of the music definitely confused him, and he didn’t understand how quick changes were physically possible, but it was good. “Earl’s a class-A dick, though. Jenna’s much better off without him.”

Cass nodded. “Correct.”

March 4 (thurs)

Cass glanced down at her watch, making sure it was a good time to call. It was just after 6 in New York, which would mean it was...5 in Winnipeg? Was that right? Mat probably hadn’t gotten to the arena yet, or if he did, it was more likely dinner than training or warmups. Clicking on his contact, it rang for less than ten seconds before Mat picked up.

“Hey babe! You good?” It wasn't per se unusual for them to call each other — especially during road trips, they tried to talk or FaceTime every day — but it was usually Mat who called first, and usually just after games. So it was understandable that he was a little confused.

Cass giggled. “I’m good, really good. Got some good news, just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Awww,” Mat teased, “you loooove me.”

Cass didn’t really blush, but if she did, her cheeks would be scarlet. “Yes. I do. Shut up.”

Mat let out a laugh. “Just teasing you, babe. Good news, eh? What kind? Did you hear back from any of the places you applied yet?”

“No,” Cass huffed. “Not that.” She had sent out her résumé to somewhere around ten different firms and nonprofits, mostly in New York, but some as far south as D.C. and as far north as Boston. She had also sent in an application for a clerkship at the Supreme Court months back as some sort of pipe dream, but hadn’t heard anything back and had long since abandoned it as a lost cause. “I’ve done a few interviews, but nothing permanent. It’s still pretty early, though.” And that part was true — out of everyone in her circles back at school, there were maybe a handful who already had jobs lined up after graduation, most of them having evolved from summer associate positions they’d taken with some highbrow firm in Manhattan. Or D.C. One was even going to London to do something very intellectual-sounding with trade negotiations.

“I know you’re probably a little nervous, and I totally get that. But don’t worry, Cass. You’re incredible and so smart and so qualified and someone’s going to see that, even if it takes a little longer than expected.”

“Thanks,” Cass said, breathing out deeply and smiling softly. Mat was getting good at reading her, so good that he could tell when something was bothering her even without being face-to-face. And he gave damn fine pep talks.

Mat cleared his throat. “So. Good news?”

Cass screwed up her face. “Good news. Right. I just got out of the office, and you know how I said I was almost done with my hours?” It had taken Cass longer than usual to finish her experiential requirement, since nearly all of her peers got it knocked out in a summer and she, obviously, was a little more busy when it actually came to term time. “Mhm,” Mat responded. “I just got done with the last of them today!”

Mat was confused. “So...your good news is that you’re finished? I thought you liked working with Chris?”

“Right, yeah, I do.” Cass tried to backtrack. I should have explained. “Chris told me I’m welcome to stay on, and I’m going to. I genuinely like what I’m doing. Since I’m not doing it for school anymore, he put in a request for a status change with HR, and it just got approved. So,” she paused for dramatic effect, “the good news is that now I’m getting PAID.”

“Awesome!” Mat said. “You’re going to be the one making the big bucks now.”

“I’m making 16 dollars an hour. It’s barely above minimum wage, but it’s nice to finally get something back.”

Ten minutes later, after they had hung up, Mat leaned back in his hotel bed. He really was proud of Cass, unbelievably so, but hadn’t yet admitted to himself just how nervous he was. Not about their relationship, really, but about where things were headed. He absolutely saw them together as a long-term thing and at least from what Cass made it seem like, so did she. But they hadn’t really spoken about where they saw this whole thing going, or what it would look like, or really anything beyond vaguely discussed plans for the summer after her graduation. The uncertainty wasn’t really concerning him. Mat’s new contract locked him in through 2026, so he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. And he wouldn’t want to, he loved hockey and loved New York and loved his team.

Cass was a whole different story. She was probably the smartest person he’d ever met, and Mat knew that she could and would be able to go just about anywhere for a position. She didn’t have to stay in New York if she didn’t want to. And sure, New York was a pretty good place to be a lawyer — it didn’t take a genius to know that — but the worry kept popping up in the back of his mind that she’d get an incredible offer somewhere like California or Chicago or even somewhere international and would leave the city. Leave him. Mat would never dream of holding Cass back from her dreams. It would be a dick move and she’d worked way too hard to let everything go to waste. But the idea of doing something long distance, like true long distance, scared the shit out of him. It wasn’t just that he’d miss the sex or seeing her in the stands at games or early morning coffee dates, but Mat thrived on closeness, he thrived on intimacy of all kinds. It would terrify him to have to be away from someone who meant so much to him for so long. But this was Cass, his Cass, and if he’d go through it for anyone, it would be for her.

I’m overthinking this, Mat thought, as he flipped his phone over and over in his hands. Don’t make up problems where there are none.

March 13 (sat)

Cass tapped her fingers nervously as she walked through the doors of the Islander’s practice rink. It was family skate, and Cass couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t quite belong.

“There you are!” Mat said, his bag slung over one shoulder as he greeted her with a kiss. “You ready? I know Tito and Paige are already down there and they’re starting to get on the ice.”

“Yep!” Cass said brightly, forcing a smile and grabbing his hand a little too quickly.

Mat raised one eyebrow. “Alright, what is it?”

Cass dropped the face. “It’s just...this seems different than all of the other things I’ve gone to. It’s not like when I’m in the box at games or we go out with the team or I hang out with the girls when you guys are on a road trip. It’s like,” she let out a huff, “this is small. This is close. This is meant for family, wives and kids, and I’m not...I’m not family. I’m your girlfriend, sure, but…” She trailed off.

Mat squeezed her hand. “I plan on keeping you around for a long time, Cass. You’d better get used to it. And besides,” he said, looking at her softly, “wives have to start somewhere.”

Luckily, Cass didn’t have time to get too into her head, because she was suddenly engulfed in a bear hug from Paige. “I know we got coffee on Monday, but it’s been too long, Cass. I swear, you’re working too hard.”

Mat chimed in. “Tell me about it.” Cass swatted at him. “She’s been studying and editing and sending in her résumé to every office she can get her hands on.” He sat his chin on top of her head, arms crossing in front of her chest to hold her hands.

“Alright, Mr. Clingy,” Cass giggled, twisting her head to look up at Mat.

“But you looove your clingy boyfriend,” Mat whined, leaning down and softly kissing Cass.

She scrunched her nose. “Regrettably so.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “You ready to go out on the ice?”

“Yeah.” Cass nodded, taking a pair of skates from the rack. By the time she had unlaced her boots and set them to the side, Mat had already tied his hockey skates, an extra pair he kept in his practice bag.

“Let me,” Mat said, gently taking the skates and kneeling down in front of her.

Cass rolled her eyes, but her cheeks heated all the same. “If you insist,” she said, holding her left leg out.

“Okay, Cinderella,” Mat chuckled, holding her ankle for support as he wiggled her foot in, pulling the laces tight and tying them. “Double knots are more secure,” he said, blushing, as he finished the second skate.

“You’re cute when you blush,” Cass said, pinching Mat’s cheeks, which only made him go more scarlet.

He straightened out the knot, reaching out a hand so Cass could stand up. She steadied herself on the skates. “How much skating have you done?” Mat asked as he led her to the door.

Cass shrugged. “A little? I went a few times as a kid and the girls and I go to Rockefeller Center around Christmas every year, but not a ton. Skating’s an expensive enough sport as it is, and my parents were already having to deal with coming up with the fees for Noah before he started working.”

Mat grimaced. “Yeah, I get that. I hate it, how cost prohibitive the sport is, and I try to help out back home when I can, but knowing that there’s so many kids who love the sport and could be so good,” he took a tense breath, “but aren’t able to because their families don’t have the means. It’s really shi—” He cut himself off, noticing his teammates’ children skating around. “It sucks.”

“It does.” Cass nodded. “But I know you have a good heart, and I know you’re helping where you can.” She gave a half-smile as they stepped onto the ice, her hand gripping his forearm as she tried to find her balance on the slick surface, which had been passed over by a zamboni right before the group’s arrival. “Wipe that smile off of your face,” she said, sticking her tongue out.

“Yes ma’am,” Mat said with a grin, pulling her along.

---

After an hour or so of skating, Cass had gotten the hang of it enough to where Mat was good to step off the ice for a few minutes and talk to some of the boys. “They have goldfish,” he had mentioned. “I think the snack table’s supposed to be for the kids, but I’m not above theft in situations like these.” So Cass skated around with Paige, Lauren, and some of the other WAGs, nearly all of whom were much, much better skaters than herself.

“For someone who grew up on hockey, you’d think this would be way easier for me than it is,” Cass grumbled, tentatively pushing off from the sideboards.

“You’ll get it eventually. I believe in you,” Paige said, poking her cheek.

She grimaced. “Hopefully. I can see the Athletic’s morning headline now: ‘Cassidy Cabrera Shaw, Girlfriend of 2018 Calder Trophy Winner Mat Barzal, Falls on Face While Attempting to Skate.”

“Sue them,” Paige suggested.

Cass laughed. “That’d be nice, wouldn’t it? Wish I could.” She stuck her hands in her jacket pockets. “No grounds for defamation if it’s true.”

“Laws are dumb.”

“They can be,” Cass admitted, looking over to the bleachers. “You want to go get drinks? I think I saw Whiteclaws in the adult’s cooler, and I know how you feel about those.”

Paige was already halfway across the rink. “Only if all the limes haven’t been taken!”

Cass shook her head, turning like Mat had taught her and skating over to the benches. Paige had gone over to sit with Anthony, a lime Whiteclaw successfully in her hand, and it took Cass no time to find Mat. He was sitting in the second row next to some of the other guys, and he was holding a baby. A very cute, very small baby. She gingerly made her way over to the group, catching Mat’s eye. He beamed at her as she took a seat next to him.

“And who’s this little cutie?” She asked, smiling at him.

“This is Milo,” Mat said softly, turning him slightly so she could wave at him.

Cass absentmindedly remembered asking whose son it was — an offseason trade from Colorado, she vaguely recalled processing the contract at work — but she really couldn’t say which one. But she stroked Milo’s face with one finger, puffed out her cheeks at him, and suddenly he was in her arms and everything else fell away. She bounced him for a few minutes, easily falling back into her old routine — she was an older sister, after all — before handing him back to Mat, who was clearly having some separation anxiety.

Lauren sat on the edge of the bench, gently touching Cass’ shoulder with Collins on her hip. “He looks really good like that, doesn’t he?” She asked. Cass’ cheeks burned. She didn’t know anyone had seen her looking over at Mat and Milo. “Yeah, he does,” she said, a soft smile crossing over her face.

March 26 (fri)

A steaming cup of tea in her hands, Cass threw her head back against the couch, knocking her reading glasses askew. She straightened them with a huff. There were two days until the deadline for the law review, and she still had two articles to get through for last-minute edits and spelling checks. It was just past 11, which normally wouldn’t have been all that late for her, but she had been staring at her computer for hours and it was beginning to take a toll. She had been at the library until 8 or so, making more than one trip to the coffee cart in the lobby before she realized that she wasn’t going to get anywhere sequestered away in a cubicle on the fourth floor. The Islanders were playing that night, so Cass shot Mat a text that she was headed over, packed up her bags, and headed over.

He had just given her a key the week prior, and it was her first time using it. Even though he constantly told her she was welcome to go over, whether he was there or not, she had more than her fair share of nerves as she jingled her keychain, thumbing over her apartment key and mail key and car key and key to the house back in Connecticut before she opened the door. She set the kettle to boil and grabbed the little-used box of English Breakfast from the cabinet before crashing on the couch, where she had been pretty much ever since, save for a bathroom break after a thrilling review of a paper on recent intellectual property rulings of the 2nd Circuit Court.

The doorknob turned and Mat walked in, shower-damp hair, still clad in his gameday suit with his duffel slung over his left shoulder. “Hey, babe,” he said, dropping the bag and walking over to the couch to plant a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “Still at it?”

She nodded ruefully, rubbing her eyes. “Yeah. I ordered takeout earlier in case you’re hungry, there’s an extra gyro in the kitchen,” she pointed to a bag on the counter, “and they threw in free baklava if you’re still hungry.”

His eyebrows perked. “Baklava?” Cass had discovered early on in their relationship that hidden beneath his curated meal plans from the team nutritionist and smoothie kits was a surprisingly committed sweet tooth. She was a stress-baker, and Mat had been more than willing over the past few months to serve as her taste tester for cookies, pies, and anything in between.

Cass giggled. “Yeah. Better get it before I steal the last piece, though.”

Mat returned later with the pastry on a napkin, shrugging off his suit jacket and collapsing onto the cushion beside her. “Anything else interesting happen today?”

Cass shrugged her shoulders. “I had yoga in the morning like usual, which was fun. I tried a hot yoga class today, though, and you would not believe how much I sweat. It hurt my soul.”

“No pain no gain, baby,” Mat chimed in. Cass rolled her eyes at him.

“But then I had law review and my Entertainment Law seminar before I headed over to the office. Pretty normal, they had me looking over some leasing agreements for the next season. Called my grandma, she’s shipping my serape stole over next week and needed my address,” Cass added.

“Serape stole?”

Cass adjusted her position on the couch so she was facing Mat. “It’s a Mexican thing. You know how graduation gowns usually have stoles for the school or whatever?” Mat nodded. “It’s pretty common to have cultural ones too, Black students will often wear what’s called a kente cloth stole and Mexican and some other Latinx students have serape stoles. Give me a sec,” she said, grabbing her phone and scrolling through her photos. “Here’s a graduation photo of me and the girls from UConn, Ryanne’s in her kente stole and I have mine.”

Mat looked bewildered. “Why are you wearing so many of them?”

Cass laughed, realizing which photo she pulled up. “Okay, fair enough. So there’s the normal school one on the bottom, then I had one for the honors program, then on top of that is the one from my sorority, then on top of that is the serape. Most of the other photos it’s just one or two, like in the ones when I’m with the sorority or the Mexican Student Association or whoever. We thought it would be fun to take one where we’re just drowning in stoles and leis. Made us feel fancy.”

“You do look very fancy,” Mat said, leaning his head on her shoulder. “You also look very tired, Cass. You need to go to sleep.”

Cass scrunched up her nose. “I’ve only got the two papers left to look over, and I’d really like to get them done before I head back. Get them all knocked out, y’know?”

“Stay here,” Mat said easily, as if it wasn’t even a question. “Stay here, you can finish reviewing them in the morning. Plus, I’d feel a lot better if you weren’t taking the subway alone at half past 11.”

Cass sighed. He had a point. “Fine,” she said slowly, “but you have to promise to wake me up if I don’t get out of bed by 8. Okay?”

Mat gently took her laptop, setting it on the coffee table. “Okay. Now go take a shower and hop into bed, pretty girl. You’ve had a long day.”

“Thanks,” Cass said, smiling gratefully and padding down the hall to the bathroom. Shedding her clothes, Cass stepped into the shower, expecting to use Mat’s Old Spice shampoo — which, to be fair, didn’t smell half bad — when a white floral bottle caught her eye. She had mentioned offhand once that she was picking up a new bottle of shampoo, and Mat must have been listening more than she gave him credit for. Because, without asking, he had gotten one too.

#hockey imagine #hockey writing #nhl imagine #nhl writing #mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl smut #hockey #hockey smut #hockey imagines #New York Islanders #islanders #islanders imagines #islanders writing

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fuckheadwitha · 4 years

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Listening to Rolling Stone's Top 500 Albums of All Time

Rolling Stone released an updated list of their top 500 albums of all time and being trapped in the purgatory of covid quarantine this seems like the perfect moment to tackle what an almost completely irrelevant former counter-culture institution has to say about music (we can’t actually blame Rolling Stone for this list, a huge number of musicians and critics voted to make it). I am going to listen to every single one of these, all the way through, with a level of attention that's not super intense but I'm definitely not having them on in the background as simple aural wallpaper. Two caveats though: I can make an executive decision to skip any album if I feel the experience is sufficiently miserable, and I'm also going to be skipping the compilation albums that I feel aren't really worth slots (best ofs, etc.). In addition, I will be ordering them as I go, creating a top 500 of the top 500 (it will be less than 500 since we've already established I'm skipping some of these).

Here are 500-490:

#500 Arcade Fire - Funeral

I can already tell I'm going to be at odds with this list if one of the most important albums of my high school years is at the bottom. That being said, I haven't actually given this whole thing a listen since probably the early 2010s, before Arcade Fire fatigue set in and the hipsterati appointed band of a generation just kinda seemed to fade from popular consciousness. I actually dreaded re-experiencing it, since the synthesis of anthemic rock and quirky folk instrumentation which Arcade Fire brought mainstream has now become the common shorthand of insufferable spotify friendly folk pop. Blessedly, the first half of the album easily holds up, largely propelled by dirty fast rhythm guitar, orchestration that's tuneful rather than obnoxious, and lyrics which come off as earnest rather than pretentious. The middle gets a little sappy and “Crown of Love”, a song I definitely used to like, really starts the grate. And then we get to “Wake Up”, whose cultural saturation spawned thousands of dorky indie rock outfits that confused layered strings and horns with power and meaning. This song definitely hasn't survived the film trailers and commercials which it so ubiquitously overlayed, but the line about "a million little gods causing rainstorms, turning every good thing to rust" still attacks the part of my brain capable of sincere emotion. This album is probably going to hold the top spot for a while, because although so many elements of Funeral that made it feel so meaningful, that made it stand out so much in 2004, have been seamlessly assimilated into an intellectually and emotionally bankrupt indie pop industrial complex, the album itself still has a genuine vulnerability and bangers that still manage to rip.

#499

Rufus, Chaka Khan - Ask Rufus

Before she became a name in her own right, Chaka Khan was the voice of the band Rufus, and it’s definitely her voice that shines amongst some spritely vibey funk. That’s not to say that these aren’t some jams on their own. “At Midnight” is a banging opener with a sprint to the finish, and although the explicitly named but kinda boring “Slow Screw Against the Wall” feels weak, this wasn’t really supposed to be an album of barn burners. This was something people put on their vinyl record players while they chilled on vinyl furniture after a night of doing cocaine. “Everlasting Love” is a bop with a bassline like a Sega Genesis game, and the twinkling piano on “Hollywood” adds a playful levity to lyrics that are supposed to be both tackily optimistic about making it big out in LA and subtly realistic about the kind of nightmare world showbiz can be. “Better Days” is another track that manages to be a bittersweet jam with a catchy sour saxophone and playful synths under Chaka Khan’s vamping. This album definitely belongs on a ‘chill funk to study and relax to’ playlist.

#498

Suicide - Suicide

We’ve hit the first album that could be rightly called a progenitor for multiple genres that followed it. Someone could say there’s a self-serving element of this being on a Rolling Stone list (the band was one of the first to adopt the label ‘Punk’ after seeing it in a Lester Bangs article) but the album’s legacy is basically indisputable. EBM, industrial, punk, post-punk, new wave, new whatever all have a genealogy that connects to Suicide, and it’s easy to hear the band in everything that followed. But what the band actually is is two guys, one with an electric organ and one with a spooky voice, doing spooky simple riffs and saying spooky simple things. Simplicity is definitely not a dis here. The opener “Ghost Rider” makes a banger out of four notes and one instrument, and the refrain ‘America America is killing its youth’ is really all the lyrical complexity you need to fucking get it. “Cheree” and “Girl” have almost identical lyrics (‘oh baby’ vs ‘oh girl’) but “Cheree” is more like a fairy tale and “Girl” is more like a sonic handjob. “Frankie Teardrop” has the audacity to tell a ten minute story with its lyrics, but of course there is intermittent, actually way too loud screaming breaking up the narrative of a guy who loses everything then kills his family and himself. The song is basically a novelty, and I think you can probably say the whole album is a novelty between its brevity and character. But for a bite sized snack this album casts a huge shadow.

#497

Various Artists - The Indestructible Beat of Soweto

The fact that this particular compilation always ends up in the canon has a lot to do with the cultural context it existed in, being America’s first encounter with South African contemporary music during the decline of apartheid (it wouldn’t end until a decade later in 1994 with the country’s first multi-racial elections). Music journos often bring up the fact Ladysmith Black Mambazo, the all male choir singing on the album ender “Nansi Imali”, sang on Paul Simon’s Graceland like their virtue is they helped Paul Simon get over his depression and not, like, the actual music. But also like, how is the actual music? Jams. Ubiquitous, hooky guitars propel the songs along with bright choruses over low lead vocals, but I didn’t expect the synthesizer on the bop “Qhude Manikiniki”, nor the discordant hoedown violin on “Sobabamba”. “Holotelani” is a groove to walk into the sunset to.

#496

Shakira - Donde Estan los Ladrones

So this is the first head scratcher on the list. It’s not like it sucks. And I think I prefer this 90s guitar pop driven spanish language Shakira to modern superstar Shakira. But I mean, it’s an album of late nineties latin pop minivan music, with a thick syrupy middle that doesn’t do anything for me. The opener and closer stand out though. ‘Ciega, Sordomuda’, one of the biggest pop songs of the 90s (it was #1 on the charts of literally every country in Latin America), has a galloping acoustic guitar and horn hits with Shakira’s vocals at their most percussive.

#495

Boyz II Men - II

So, if you were alive in the 90s you know Boyz II Men were fucking huge, and the worst song on the album is the second track “All Around the World”, basically a love song to their own success, and also the women they’ve banged. You can tell it was written specifically so that the crowd could go fucking wild when they heard their state/city/country mentioned in the song, and I’m not gonna double check but I’m sure they hit all fifty states. Once you’re over that hump though you basically have an hour of songs to fuck to. “U Know” keeps it catchy with propulsive midi guitar and synth horns, “Jezzebel” starts with a skit and ends with a richly layered jazz tune about falling in love on a train, and “On Bended Knee” has a Ragnarok Online type beat. Honestly this album can drag, but you’re not supposed to be listening to it alone in a state of analysis, you’re supposed to have it on during a date that’s going really, really well.

#494

The Ronettes - Presenting the Fabulous Ronettes

A singles compilation of the Ronettes, the only ones I immediately recognized were ‘Be My Baby’ and ‘Going to the Chapel of Love’, the latter of which I didn’t know existed since the version of the song I knew was by the Dixie Cups, which was apparently a source of drama since the Ronettes did it first but producer Phil Spector refused to release it. I feel like as a retro trip to sixties girl groups it’s full of enough songs about breaking up (for example “Breaking Up”) getting back together (for example “Breaking Up”) and wanting to get married but you can’t, because you’re a teenager (“So Young”).

#493

Marvin Gaye - Here, My Dear

This album only exists because Marvin was required by his divorce settlement to make it and provide all of the royalties to his ex-wife and motown executive Anna Gordy Gaye. It’s absolutely bizarre, phoned in mid tempo funk whose lyrics range from the passive aggressive (“This is what you wanted right?”) to the petulant (“Why do I have to pay attorney’s fees?”). There is a seething realness here that crosses well past the border of uncomfortable. I don’t think it’s an amazing album to listen to, but it’s an amazing album to exist: Marvin Gaye is legally obligated to throw his own divorce pity party, and everyone's invited.

#492

Bonnie Raitt - Nick of Time

I have never heard of Bonnie Raitt before but apparently this album won several grammys including album of the year in 1989 and sold 5 million copies, which I guess goes to show that no award provides less long term relevance than the grammys. The story around the album is pretty heartwarming, it was her first massive hit after a career of whiffs, and Bonnie Raitt herself is apparently a social activist and neat human being. I say all this because this sort of 80s country blues rock doesn't really connect with me, but the artist obviously deserves more than that. I unequivocally like the title track though, a hand-clap backed winding electric piano groove about literally finding love before your eggs dry up.

#491

Harry Styles - Fine Line

I do not think I have ever heard a one direction song because I am an adult who only listens to public radio. I’m totally open to pop bands or boy bands or boy band refugee solo artists, but I don’t like anything here. It’s like a mixtape of the worst pop trends of the decade, from glam rock that sounds like it belongs in a car commercial to folky bullshit that sounds like it belongs in a more family focused car commercial. This gets my first DNP (Does Not Place).

#490

Linda Ronstadt - Heart Like a Wheel

Another soft-rock blues and country album which just doesn’t land with me. But the opener “You’re No Good” is like a soul/country hybrid which still goes hard and the title track hits with the lyrics “And it's only love and it's only love / That can wreck a human being and turn him inside out”.

Current Ranking, which is weirdly almost like an inverse of the rolling stones list so far;

#rolling stone #500 greatest albums of all time

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angelofthequeers · 5 years

Text

Ladybug and Reine Nuit: Chapter 10

Gamer

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Surprise double update! Both to celebrate getting a new laptop (FINALLY) and for more Chloé smackdown ft. Adrien with a spine!

@miraculousl4dybug @livinthebilife tagged as requested :)

Part 9 | Part 11

Although things on the Chloé front have been tense since Adrien had told her to buzz off, it’s all been relatively tame for a few weeks now. She hasn’t done more than scowl and drop a mean comment here and there when Adrien’s not around, with many nasty comments directed at Alix, who’s been quiet since her akumatisation into Timebreaker a few days prior. But, far from being a relief, it only puts Marinette on edge; when will Chloé strike next and what will she do?

Chloé’s next move comes during the Françoise Dupont tryouts for the Paris Ultimate Mecha Strike III Tournament in the library, to find a partner for Max.

“He’s totally unbeatable! And this tournament is his whole life!” Kim says as Max and Adrien mash their buttons. “He’s been grinding all year to level up!”

Just as Kim says that, Adrien utterly creams Max’s robot and comes out in the lead with more points. While everyone cheers, Max says, “Awesome job. We’re gonna make a killer combo!” and high-fives him, although Max looks a little miffed that someone had actually beaten him.

“So, like, Adrikins got the best score, right?” Chloé says. Why she’s even here, Marinette has no idea; if Chloé genuinely likes video games, Marinette will eat her earrings.

“Yes,” Max says. “That means if anyone was to beat me, they would take my place. But no one will beat me!”

“Oh, I don’t have to.” With a smirk, Chloé approaches Mr Damocles. “Mr Damocles, sir, I believe that second spot belongs to me.”

“Wait, what?” Max bursts out. “You haven’t even played, Chloé!”

“Mr Kanté is correct, I’m afraid,” Mr Damocles says. “If you’d like to try out then you’re more than welcome. But I can’t just give you his spot when he earned it.”

“Hmm. Pity.” Chloé pulls out her phone. “I guess my daddy will have to hear about this. Would be a shame if he pulled the school’s funding –”

“No! No! That’s not necessary!” Mr Damocles clears his throat. “Chloé Bourgeois and Adrien Agreste will represent Françoise Dupont High School at the Paris Ultimate Mecha Strike III Tournament. Good luck to both of you.”

“Yay!” Chloé bounces over to Adrien and plants a kiss on his cheek. “Isn’t this just amazing, Adrikins? Now I get to come over and practice with you! You can totally give me private lessons in this game!” She winks. Adrien looks like nothing in the world would please him less than having to hang out with her in private.

“This is totally bogus!” Alix says.

“Yeah!” Rose adds. “Max won that spot!”

“My decision is final!” Mr Damocles says quickly. “Now, the library is closing up, so I suggest you lot get moving!”

“Max?” Marinette rests a hand on Max’s shoulder, but he shrugs her off. “We’ll fight this, you know. Even if we have to kidnap Chloé and tie her up in a supply closet so that you can play.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Chloé drawls. Marinette pulls a face.

“Unfortunately.”

“Thanks for trying, Marinette,” Max sighs, standing up. “But there’s nothing you can do. I simply have to accept this unequivocal travesty.” He shuffles out of the library with slumped shoulders.

“Max! Wait!” Kim runs after him.

“What time suits you, Adrikins?” Chloé says in a sickly-sweet voice. “I know you must be very busy with your schedule –”

“How about never?” Adrien growls. Chloé shoots a quick glare at Mr Damocles.

“Ahem – um – Mr Agreste, cooperation and partner chemistry are very important –”

“You hear that?” Chloé throws her arms around Adrien. “Chemistry! You and moi!”

“Then I’m forfeiting my position,” Adrien says. “Max can have it.”

“You got the higher score,” Mr Damocles says. “That’s not possible.”

“Chloé didn’t even play!”

“This gaming session is over! Clear out!” Mr Damocles says loudly. Fuming, Adrien gets up and stalks out of the library. Chloé follows, though not before shooting Marinette a smug little smirk on her way.

“That cheating little brat!” Marinette hisses, clenching her fists.

“Girl. Chill.” Alya grabs her shoulders. “I’m just as mad, trust me. But calling her names isn’t gonna do anything.”

Marinette squints at Alya. “You’re telling me not to call Chloé Bourgeois names? Who are you and what have you done with Alya Césaire?”

Alya laughs and links their arms. “Trust me, I can’t believe it either. But if there’s one thing that Ladybug and Reine Nuit have taught me, it’s to plan someone’s demise rather than rushing in. Chloé won’t get away with this, believe you me.”

“Oh, it’s been so long since I was in here last!” Chloé sighs, bouncing with her hands clasped in the middle of his room. Adrien’s eye twitches. What did he do to deserve this? And what happened to the Chloé he remembers? The one who was biting and took no shit but wasn’t a nasty bully?

Maybe that Chloé never existed. Or maybe she only ever existed for him.

“Okay, so, like, how do you play this Mecha whatchamacallit?” Chloé says, throwing herself onto Adrien’s white couch. “We’ve only got a little time, partner!”

“You’re not my partner,” Adrien growls. “Not technically. You cheated your way into it!”

“Oh, please,” Chloé scoffs. “I didn’t cheat. I just offered a very strong incentive.”

“By threatening to cut the school’s funding! No wonder no one’s done anything about your bullying! Why would they, when you’re the one holding the strings?”

“You really got yourself in a twist over this, huh?” Chloé says. “I didn’t know you cared so much about some school, or some weird nerdy loser who wears suspenders.”

Adrien just shakes his head. “You need to apologise to Max. You’re really disgusting me right now, Chloé.”

Chloé snorts. “Me? Apologise? No way. Why should I?”

“Because otherwise, I’ll never talk to you again.”

“What?” Chloé jumps up. “What are you talking about, Adrikins?”

“I don’t want to lose your friendship,” Adrien says. “I never did. But if I stand by and let you pick on others, I’m just as complicit as you are. So, if you keep on getting meaner and meaner, I’m not going to talk to you anymore. I won’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“Ha! You’re talking to me right now. You just needed the incentive, didn’t you?” Chloé flips her hair. “It’s okay to admit that you need to come crawling back to me.”

With a growl, Adrien storms out of his room and down the staircase to the front doors. He has to get out of here. He can’t blow up at Chloé. The last thing he needs is to be akumatised over this.

As it turns out, he’s not the one who was akumatised over this injustice.

“Wait! Adrien!” Chloé cries, chasing after him just as he pushes open the front doors. His eyes are immediately drawn to the gigantic black and green pyramid looming over him with two massive mechanical legs. Its green eye locks directly onto him and Chloé.

“Chloé Bourgeois,” snarls a digitised voice from the pyramid. “Let’s see if you really can game against me, the Gamer, or if all you can do is go crying to Daddy.”

“Look out!” Purely by instinct, Adrien tackles Chloé as the pyramid shoots a ray of green coding at her. Chloé beams at him from beneath him, but he just rolls his eyes and jumps to his feet.

“And Adrien Agreste,” Gamer growls. Adrien’s eyes widen as he realises who it is. Max! “If not for you, Chloé would not have pulled her despicable trick.”

“Wait, what? How is this my fault?” Adrien says. “I tried to pull out and give my spot to you after you left, but Mr Damocles wouldn’t let me because of Chloé!”

“Hmm.” Gamer’s pyramid just continues to stare.

“Come on, do you really think I’d even want to be Chloé’s partner in the first place?” Adrien says.

“Hey!” Chloé huffs.

Before Gamer can decide whether he’s going to spare Adrien, two blurs of colour land in front of Adrien and Chloé.

“Sorry, but you haven’t unlocked these challengers yet,” Reine Nuit says, twirling her staff.

“You do know that implies that Adrien and Chloé are harder bosses to beat than us, right?” Ladybug says while spinning her yo-yo by her side. Reine Nuit rolls her eyes.

“Hey, I never said I knew a lot about video games.”

“Excuse me, but can you actually save us instead of bantering?” Chloé demands. Reine Nuit grimaces.

“Do we have to save Chloé?” she complains.

“Why is everyone badmouthing me when I’m right here?”

“Yes, kitty,” Ladybug says firmly. “She’s a civilian.”

“Hmph. At least someone’s on my side,” Chloé says. Adrien struggles to conceal a snort at the way Ladybug’s eye twitches.

“Enough! Game over!” Gamer aims at them, but the heroes are quicker; Ladybug scoops Adrien up in her arms, while Reine Nuit groans and throws Chloé over her shoulder, and then they’re off just in time to avoid Gamer’s laser beam.

“Split up! Meet at the brat’s headquarters!” Ladybug calls to Reine Nuit, who salutes and takes off in another direction while Chloé loudly complains about how her expensive clothes are getting dirt on them. Ladybug heaves a huge sigh and swings behind a building for cover in case Gamer attacks them.

“I don’t think he’s coming for us,” Adrien says when there’s no sign of a laser beam.

“No wonder Gamer’s angry,” Ladybug says. “I heard that she cheated her way into his spot.”

“It wasn’t cheating,” Adrien says with an eyeroll. “Just heavy bribery and blackmail.”

“What a difference,” Ladybug deadpans. She bites her lip and peeks around the corner, but there’s no sign of Gamer. “Looks like he’s angrier at Chloé than he is at you. Why is he mad at you, anyway?”

“He thinks it’s partly my fault,” Adrien says as Ladybug swings off again, this time in the direction of Le Grand Paris. “Because if I didn’t end up getting the second spot, Chloé wouldn’t have done what she did.”

“Okay, that’s just taking it too far,” Ladybug says. “It’s not like you asked Chloé to do that. And from what I’ve heard, you tried to pull out and give your spot to Max.”

“Mr Damocles wouldn’t let me. Chloé threatened to cut the school’s funding, since her dad’s the mayor and everything.”

“Of course,” Ladybug mutters. Something small flutters in Adrien’s stomach at the sight of Ladybug with narrowed, determined blue eyes as she swings in a wide arc up to the top of the hotel. He doesn’t actually have feelings for Ladybug, he’s sure of that…but maybe if Marinette hadn’t come in first, he may have fallen for Ladybug instead. In another universe, perhaps.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Reine Nuit says when Ladybug lands on the rooftop and lets Adrien down. “If I had to spend another minute with this brat –”

“Keep going and I’ll make sure all of Paris shudders at the sound of your name,” Chloé threatens with crossed arms and a petulant scowl.

“Wow, I’m so scared of the girl who needs her daddy to get anything done.”

“Okay, enough!” Ladybug says before Chloé can shriek in outrage. “We don’t have time for this. We need to figure out how to take down Gamer.”

“I want to help,” Adrien says. “It’s partly my fault, anyway.”

“What did I just tell you?” Ladybug says.

“I know that part’s not my fault, but I should’ve done more to stand up to Chloé!”

“Hey, don’t go taking the blame that isn’t yours,” Reine Nuit says. Her eyes dart from side to side, keeping an eye out for the massive akuma. “Chloé’s the one who blackmailed her way into the spot, not you.”

“What?” Chloé gasps, covering her mouth. “I didn’t – you liar! How dare you? You’re totally trying to ruin me in front of my BFF!”

“Save it, Chloé,” Ladybug says. “Adrien told me the truth. You need to take responsibility for your actions instead of blaming others.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Fine!” Chloé shrieks. “Gang up on me! But you’ll come running back to me soon –” She’s cut off by a green laser beam hitting her and dissolving her into code.

“Thank you!” Reine Nuit calls to Gamer, while Ladybug grabs Adrien again. “Sorry we have to kick your butt!”

Ladybug’s eyes widen when she sees that the robot has upgraded and now has arms and thicker legs. “He’s level three now!” she cries.

“And four is the highest level!” Adrien adds. He grins at Ladybug, who beams back.

“So…that’s bad, right?” Reine Nuit says as they bound off again.

“Yes!” Ladybug and Adrien reply. Ladybug yelps and dodges a laser beam, which hits a building and turns it into green code.

“Okay, well, we gotta get him out of here or he’ll destroy the whole city!” Reine Nuit calls, using her staff to propel her out of the way of an attack. Ladybug’s eyes land on a billboard advertising the gaming tournament at the stadium, and her eyes light up.

“The stadium!” she says. “Come on, Reine Nuit!”

As predicted, the robot follows them to the stadium, so Reine Nuit uses her Cataclysm to destroy it and expose Gamer himself. Although they get a tonne of loot for their trouble, Gamer just touches his glasses and respawns his robot around him.

“Aww, not the old spawn point glitch!” Adrien groans.

“But did you see how he pushed that button on his glasses?” Ladybug says. “I bet the akuma’s in there.” She touches their red loot sphere to claim it, and is gifted with a massive, ladybug-patterned cat robot. “Ha! We’ve levelled up too!”

“Uh, slight problem.” Reine Nuit holds up her beeping ring. “I’m fine for now, but I don’t know if we can take him down before I turn back. Plus, I’ve got literally no idea how to play this game.”

“I can help!” Adrien bounces on the spot, wondering if he’s died and gone to Heaven. He can actually help the heroes out this time? No way!

“It’s too dangerous!” Ladybug says automatically.

“It’s not like he’ll be any safer out here,” Reine Nuit points out. “Gamer’s after him, remember? Besides, he’s way better at the game than I am.”

Ladybug chews her lip, then makes a snap decision before Gamer can launch another attack. “Fine. Just stick around in case we need you on the ground, Reine!” she says before grabbing Adrien around the waist and swinging up to the top of their robot to slide inside.

“Can I man it?” Adrien says when they’re in the cockpit. He whips out his phone to take a rushed selfie for his Instagram before the action begins; thankfully, Ladybug doesn’t notice this.

“No way,” Ladybug says. “You can shoot. You’re already in enough danger in here as it is.”

Together, Ladybug and Adrien utterly lay the smackdown on Gamer with move after move, but he fires back just as hard. Stuck in a stalemate, Adrien can’t see how in the world they’re going to get out of this one.

“Take the controls, Adrien,” Ladybug orders, swinging herself out of the cockpit. Adrien scrambles over to her seat just in time to see her summon her Lucky Charm outside, which turns out to be a can of spray paint, and Adrien has no idea what the hell she’s supposed to do with that until he sees her leaping over to Gamer’s robot and spraying the eye.

“Of course!” Adrien gasps. “He’ll have to come out and –”

Sure enough, Ladybug snatches Gamer’s glasses when he pops his head out to fix the problem, then releases and purifies the akuma. Her Miraculous Ladybug deposits Adrien safely on his feet as their robot dissolves, and he bounces like he’s high on sugar as the ladybug cure fixes everything. He got to be an honorary hero! He totally helped Ladybug! This has to be a dream! Dammit, why didn’t he get the chance to record this?

“What am I doing here?” Max mumbles when he’s detransformed from Gamer and is pushing himself off the ground. Ladybug grins at Reine Nuit when the cat superhero comes over, before turning to Adrien and directing that grin at him as she holds her fist out.

“Oh my god, really?” Adrien gasps. Bouncing even more, he fist-bumps Ladybug and Reine Nuit. “Pound it!” he gets to cry with the heroes.

“I recharged while you were kicking his butt,” Reine Nuit says, holding up her hand to display her fully-charged ring. “So, I can take Max back to the school on my way.”

“I’ll take Adrien back, then,” Ladybug says. She slips an arm around Adrien’s waist and then they’re off, swinging across Paris, and Adrien can’t help the giddy laugh that slips out of him because this has been the best day ever.

“Where’s Chloé?” Marinette says to Adrien as he draws level with his classmates outside the stadium. “They’re about to call you guys up!”

“About that…” Adrien says. He holds out one of his controllers to Max, who squints at it. “She refused to come. Said that she “didn’t want to play that stupid game anyway”. I think she’s just still sore about Ladybug telling her to take responsibility for her own actions.”

“Really?” Max gasps, taking the controller and staring at it with shining eyes. “So – this means –”

Adrien grins. “We’re gonna kick their butts.”

“And now, representing Françoise Dupont High School…” comes the announcement from inside the stadium.

“Wait!” Marinette says. Adrien’s stomach does a hard flip at the gorgeous smile that lights up her pretty face when she holds out a little pink and green charm bracelet. “You should take this, Adrien. It’s my lucky charm.” She winks and says, “Can’t hurt, right?”

Adrien just blinks, then he blinks again, staring at Marinette with an open mouth. Is it possible to fall in love with someone all over again? Because he’s pretty sure that’s what just happened right now.

“Uh, dude?” Nino nudges Adrien. “They’re waiting for you!”

“…Right!” Adrien shakes his head and tears his eyes away from Marinette, otherwise he won’t move for the next ten years. He grins at Max as they approach the stadium doors. “Ready, partner?”

Max grins back. “Let’s show them who’s gold.”

#miraculous ladybug #aotq fic #aotq: reine nuit au #chat!alya #marinette dupain-cheng #alya cesaire #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #max kante #gamer #adrien you're hopeless #adrinette #one-sided #at least for now #oh no chloe whatever will happen to you next chapter #poor spoilt brat

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