kent cheer

“What’s this?” Kent asked as he bent down the retrieve the mouse toy Kit had dropped his feet.

Kit stood proudly in front of her prize, waiting for his reaction.

“Thanks, Princess,” he said, giving her a quick rub on her head before he dropped his heavy bag by the door and headed to his bathroom. She could hear the shower turn on and the beginning, telltale sniffs of crying.

Kit pawed uselessly at his door in frustration. The toy was supposed to cheer Kent up, a sign of Kit’s willingness to share her worldly goods with him. Jinx had assured that it would work.

She laid down in front of the bathroom door, waiting for Kent to be finished. Absentmindedly, she groomed a paw while she cycled through a list of other things try next.

The fact was this: Kent was sad again.

Kit had started noticing it about three weeks ago, ever since Kent had come home after one of his away games. She hadn’t seen him so depressed in a long time. Lines of fatigue appeared on his face from sleepless nights and she could hear him sniffling quietly when he was alone.

She’d shared her concerns with the cat from upstairs, a persnickety tuxedo who lived on the floor above, when they met for their weekly session on the fire escape.

“Did he talk to his ex-boyfriend? That always makes my human cry,” Jinx asked.

“I don’t think so…” Kit hesitated. “No one has come over in a long time,” she had added.

“Yeah, but has he been spending more time on the computer? My human Facebook stalks her ex all the time.”

“What’s Facebook?”

“Never mind.” Jinx waved a paw dismissively. “Has he been on his phone or computer more than usual lately?”

“Well,” Kit said slowly.  “He’s been watching videos and it’s always the same human in them. He’s usually cooking something in them.” She paused to search her mind for the correct word. “Pies.”

“Maybe, he’s hungry,” Jinx offered with a shrug. “Or, he’s bored. Bring him a toy.”

Jinx hadn’t been much help, but then again, he wasn’t as smart as he liked to believe. Kit didn’t know what she’d expected, but nonetheless, she tried to bring Kent various things in hopes that something would make him feel better. Each time, the reaction was always the same: a pat on the head and a smile that never reached his eyes.

The sound of the water shutting off interrupted Kit’s thoughts as she perked up in anticipation. She followed Kent from the bathroom to where he flopped on the couch and started to flip through the channels. She jumped up, half-landing on Kent who winced.

Kit settled into the spot by his chest and it wasn’t long before Kent started scratching behind her ears. She was warm and content for a while, half-falling asleep with the low sound of the television in the background. 

Before she drifted off, she heard Kent quietly whisper, “Thanks, Princess.”

Literally Perfect

Kent had been running a solid forty-five minutes late to practice thanks to a car accident and resulting traffic jam between his house and the rink, which was oddly silent when he walked in. Yeah, all the guys were there, but no one was saying anything. There wasn’t even the sound of hockey, of pucks and sticks and skates. Everyone was just standing there and staring at him.

“Okay, what the fuck?” Kent asked, voice echoing in the quiet. At that, everyone jumped back into practice, just further confusing the hell out of Kent.

Whatever, he was late and needed to get geared up to practice, which he did quickly, getting himself on the ice in what he was pretty sure was record time.

Practice was one of the oddest things Kent had ever experienced. On the surface, to an outsider looking in (not that there were any observers; practice was closed), it was normal, but on the ice and to anyone who knew the Aces, something was off. Something was very off. It wasn’t like his team ever really respected him (except during games, but that was a different story), but this was a different level of fuckery. Even the rookies were acting weird, and the rookies hadn’t yet learned that everyone on the team treated the hockey legend, member of the NHL Top 100, with chirps and just general hell.

Kent ignored it as best as he could, throwing himself into practicing, pushing himself to his limits. He probably shouldn’t have done that, but it was whatever. He was used to working through pain and other physical limitations. He’d been doing it his entire life. Some old injuries were screaming at him, but he could handle it.

Practice was just wrapping up when things got even weirder. Kent was about to get off the ice, anxious to get out of his pads and take some painkillers, but the coach stopped him. Then there was a sound of one of the doors onto the ice, which in and of itself wasn’t the oddest thing, given that there were plenty of people who worked with the team, but everyone’s reaction to it was odd. Everyone, even the coaches, turned, looking between whoever was coming onto the ice and Kent.

Kent turned, determined to figure out what the fuck was going on. Once he did, he froze. Coming onto the ice was Alexei, wearing a nice pair of jeans and, of all things, the Parson jersey Kent had gotten him when they had been together six months. He also had one hand behind his back and an almost nervous expression on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Kent asked, confused. He knew that the Falcs had just started their bye week, but the Aces had a hectic schedule with five games during the week, so Alexei had taken Snowy up on his offer to go to Florida for a few days.

Alexei looked nervous. “I’m having something to say,” he said slowly. “Coaches, Aces team, they know.”

Kent was starting to panic a bit. Alexei wouldn’t break up with him in front of his entire team, right? And he wouldn’t do it wearing Kent’s jersey.

Kent glanced back at the team, skating slowly towards them. Swoops intercepted him, though, pushing him towards Alexei, who, oh god, was getting down on one knee and pulling a box from behind his back.

“I’m in love with you, Kent Parson,” Alexei said, and Kent handed Swoops his helmet and gloves so he could wipe his eyes. He was going to get chirped so badly later on for crying, but that was fine.

“I’m wanting to spend the rest of my life with you. Marry me?”

Kent was nodding furiously, full on crying now. “Of course I will.”

He skated over and pulled on Alexei’s hand, trying to get him to stand up. It wasn’t going well, but Alexei stood anyway, sliding the ring he held onto Kent’s finger and pulling Kent close. With Kent wearing skates and Alexei in regular shoes, their height was a bit closer than usual, so Kent only had to lean up a few inches to press his lips to Alexei’s.

The Aces burst into applause and chirping cheers and Kent flipped them off without turning around.

“You’re literally perfect,” he whispered against Alexei’s lips and felt rather than saw the grin he got in response. “I’m so excited to be marrying you.”

hi. hello. so this fic isn’t finished or even polished. this is really just kind of like a preview of a fic, i guess? but i’ve been working on it in the background for a while - it’s my “i’m frustrated with all of my WIPs so i’m going to work on this instead” fic, but i thought i would send the first couple thousand words out into the world and see if anyone likes them.

this fic’s working title is “kent parson’s imaginary cat (and other adventures)” and originally it was going to be a funny 5+1 thing about how kent’s cat is terrible and hates everyone, but then?? idek what happened. actually, i do know. what happened is that brevity is not my strong suit and also i started thinking too long and hard about what happened to the other friends that kent and jack had in the Q and what they thought about everything that went down. then i wanted to write about a former Q teammate being traded to the aces and re-uniting with kent. and also kit purrson being mean to said teammate.

okay, well anyway, please have this first chapter-ish of a troyson fic that i may or may not ever finish. (your encouragement would go a long way.) it’s really for @zimmermaenner :)

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The Celebrity and the Ordinary Boy

So I posted this on ao3 literally eight days ago and didn’t post it here, so here!

Yay! I’m not a failure at this! *Cricket silence*


I wrote this to be funny and I think I succeeded.

Here is ze summary *I say in a exaggerated accent as I wave for you to read below.

A look at JonDami from the eyes of a civilian classmates of Jon.

(In which Jon’s classmates have collective heart attacks, Jon is a little shit, and Damian doesn’t know.)


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After disappointing games, nothing quite cheered up Kent Parson like a marathon of cat videos on his phone and Swoops sitting next to him. 

The Aces all knew that their captain was moody and almost unbearable around after difficult losses, especially during away games. No one wanted to sit with him on the bus or the plane, but they all felt like they were obligated to at least try (but also because they cared too). So, they had been on a rotation schedule to make sure that their captain never had to sit alone.

At first, when Swoops joined the team, it had been “make the rookie do it because he didn’t know better”. The guys on the team figured they would get a month’s reprieve before Swoops would bitch, and they would be back to taking turns again. They were all surprised, however, when Swoops never said a word about Kent’s unpredictable moods. In fact, he almost seemed happy to sit with their captain, even when Kent was snarling and wanted to bite everyone’s heads off.

So, it became a thing that everyone accepted but never really acknowledged: Parse and Swoops sat together.

And if the rest of the guys noticed that Kent’s shoulders were looser and his fists weren’t clenched so tight when he was with Swoops, they kept it to themselves. Just like they pretended they missed the saccharine glances that Swoops gave their captain when he thought Kent wasn’t looking.

(It wasn’t matchmaking, they told themselves. It was a mission.)

It started with a few inconvenient, but wholly unoriginal pranks.

“Ha-ha, guys. Very funny. You hid all my clothes while I was in the shower. Now, give them back.”

“I think they’ve actually all left.”

“Swoops, you’re the only one here?”

“Yeah, I got held up. Hey, wanna borrow my clothes? I have extra.”

Then, they graduated onto more sophisticated plans (complete with secret diagrams drawn out on whiteboards).

“Hey, where are the rest of them?”

“Vinny said his baby got sick, Marsh and Dougie got last minute Cirque du Soleil tickets, and I actually really don’t know what happened to the rest of the guys.”

“So, it’s just you and me then?”

“I guess so.”

“Well, since we’re already here, we might as well eat.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Wait, I thought the reservation was for eight. Why are they taking us at a small table, and oh—it’s got candles on it too?”

It was for the good of the team, the guys told themselves, and it was good for the team.

Kent’s smiles grew soft, and he laughed more now (and it wasn’t the hollow, self-deprecating laugh from before either). Some days, he showed up at practice with an expression that could be described by Smithy as “head over dick in love” and an infectious energy that brought them all closer.

Life was pretty good.

Kent still took some losses hard on the road, but by the time he settled into his seat with Swoops beside him, it always turned into a tired contentedness.

And if any of the guys on the team caught their captain asleep and smiling with his head nestled on Swoops’ shoulder, none of them said anything.

(Actually, Kent was drooling one time, and it was too cute to pass up, so Dougie took pictures, which eventually ended up on the slideshow at the wedding.)

boatmamacita replied to your post:The key to my heart is sappy married headcanons…

Tim is a disaster in the kitchen but Kon learned to cook from Ma Kent so HE’S LIKE FUCKING JULIA CHILD. He wears the frilliest apron with S shield just because. Sometimes he does recipe swaps with Alfred so that he can make Tim’s favourite foods.

They’ve been married (married, capital M-Married, ceremony on the Kent farm, full tux, exchanged rings, do you Conner Kent take this man, Dick and Ma Kent passing a handkerchief between themselves, actual doves overhead, speak now or forever hold your peace and was that Steph’s hand slapped over Bruce’s mouth? actually married) three weeks when Tim wakes up feeling like death warmed over. 

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Far too young to die

WARNING: Back to fluff! Papa!Bruce still hasn’t left. Mild cussing.
Summary: The reader is back home and Bruce is eager to find out who did this to her then they unexpectedly get a surprised visit.
Notes: Looooooooooiiiiiiiiiissssssss is here! This is a little short but it’s because i wanted to save the next part for chapter 4! Glad everyone is enjoying the story so far, I can’t wait to write the upcoming chapters. Send requests!

@atomicpeacekryptonite @overcasst @jazminwinchester @bookishlyever-after @alelostinwonderland @ironman-lover-9147

Chapter 3


He descended slowly to your window and stayed a safe distance. The moment he saw you his smile appeared again. You were okay but he frowned when he saw the bruises on your body. What happen to you? He wanted to go in there but as Superman? And he can’t just show up as Clark because he would sound like a stalker creep if he knew exactly where were at and you never told him anything and that would give himself away as to how he found out. So he decided to stick to where he is and wait for you to tell him, that’s if Bruce let’s you. Again, the same questions popped up in his head from earlier; how? Why?
 He stayed for a few more minutes just to make sure you were okay then he departed back to Daily Planet where he went unnoticed to everyone except Louis.

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happy kent/snowy headcanons because i love these idiots so much

  • kent is constantly stealing snowy’s clothes and while snowy isn’t that much bigger than him, his clothes still fit different on kent bc snowy is very buff and his torso does the dorito thing so his shirts are a little loose on kent and kent’s hoe ass loves it
  • they can literally make each other laugh with one (1) look. it’s so infuriating and no one ever knows what they’re laughing about it’s terrible
    • they have a lot of inside jokes but they’re all stupid shit like “egg butt” and if one of them says the phrase they’re both doubled over in laughter for at least 10 minutes
  • constantly showing memes to each other
    • when they’re visiting each other they spend hours on their phones with the occasional “haha look at this post” “pft nice”
    • this is what they call “hanging out” and no one else gets it– “interact with each other! talk to each other!!” bitty rants at jack one night after a double date. jack doesn’t get it either. 
  • more hcs under the cut this is way too long aahhahha

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Maybe once in a while Kent feels like shit and he’s sitting on the edge of his and Tater’s bed, being v honest+self-aware as he tells Tater, “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am just an asshole.”

Tater’s kneeling on the floor trying to cheer Kent up, but this statement blindsides him because while he thinks Kent is the greatest thing since tiny potatoes, Kent also tries to fight every man who heckles him on the ice, so he says, “But you are an asshole, Kenny.”

Tater spends the next 30 minutes knocking on the locked door from the outside, yelling, “But that does not mean bad person! Is not my meaning, I was thinking of something else!” 

Royal Decisions Part I

A/N- I have just under a month to pack up my entire life and move across the world so here’s to procrasti-writing! 

Caroline is the Queen of England, roughly Tudor Era. 

Queen Caroline awoke that morning firm in her resolve.

When her ladies came in to dress her that morning she pondered a while before choosing her gown of red silk with silver undersleeves and underskirt. She sat patiently as her hair was brushed until it flowed down her back in golden waves and breathed steadily while her crown was placed on her forehead.

“Fetch me the ermine cloak.” she ordered as a heavy diamond necklace was placed around her neck.

“You look beautiful Your Majesty.” Lady Katherine told her as she draped the cloak over her shoulders and Caroline watched her from the side of her eye,

She would know, she supposed. Lady Katherine had been raised in the French court and was the most fashionable albeit sauciest of her ladies, collecting men’s hearts like a squirrel collected nuts, however she could not fault the wench when she was the one who had given her the idea which she would enact today.

It was a chilly autumn morning and Caroline shivered as she led the Court from Dover Castle down to the green where the stands, tents and jousting arena had been set up. The people of Kent cheered her loudly as she approached and even in spite of her nervousness she managed to smile and wave.

The people of England adored their young and beautiful Queen.

Especially on days when they were celebrating victory.

Once again, the Spanish fleet had entered English waters and once again it had been rousted.

She walked up to her throne, underneath the canopy bearing the royal coat of arms, through the throng of bowing courtiers and loud trumpets and waved once more to the people as she sat down. She rests her hands on the arm of her chair and tries to grip the wood subtly so as to hide their trembling.

Her ladies settle around her like decorative dolls, and the nobles of the land take their position, each vying to catch her attention before the trumpets sound again and she becomes blind to her capricious butterflies.

He has arrived.

The hero of the English fleet, the man who’d captained them to victory, who’d stormed Calais and won it back from the French after her ancestor had lost it to them. The man who had first come to her attention by forcing invading Scots to retreat from the North and held it for her.

Niklaus Mikaelson.

The third son of Mikael Mikaelson, Lord of Hever Castle in Kent. His eldest brother Finn alone had inherited anything from the late lord, the rest of the family had been forced to make their own way. The second son Elijah had entered the diplomatic service and even now protected her interests in France. Niklaus had gone into the army and achieved such renown on the battlefield that his enemies called him The Wolf and whispered that he was the most dangerous man to encounter in a fight. After his victory against the Scots he had asked permission to enter the navy and she had granted it out of curiosity of his abilities.

As it turned out, he was as skilled on the seas as he was on the land.

Not even thirty and already more accomplished than men twice his age.

He comes into view amidst the cheers of the crowd, he was second only to her in the hearts of the English people. Not only was he a brave and successful soldier but he was handsome and ready with a smile. He was a knight of true chivalry and honour, bringing to mind the romance of King Arthur and the Round Table.

His breast plate has been polished until it shines and his face is aglow with pride as he marches towards her, stopping before the canopy and bowing as deeply as permitted in armour.

“Good day Master Niklaus,” Caroline managed to smile, giving him leave to rise.

“We welcome you back to England with open arms and thank you for your service to our country.” She announced and his grin widened, 

“I am grateful for the opportunity to have served, Your Majesty” he replies sweetly, his blue eyes dancing and words momentarily fail her.

Oh but he was handsome.

All the women of the Court thought so. Golden hair that fell to his shoulders, blue eyes, red lips, a skilled dancer and an even better flirt.  

“I am grateful that you did not fall in the water,” Caroline says before she can think to stop herself,

“I was not sure that wolves could swim.”    

The Court laughs merrily and Niklaus along with them, 

“When asked by the Queen herself, I am sure a wolf could take wing and fly.” he replies wittily and she fights to keep her smile regal, “We shall keep that in mind if our enemies ever take flight.”

She stands, “Come,” she calls to the crowd, “Let us feast and celebrate.”

She sees Niklaus falter uncertainly and sees the question on his face.

He had achieved the greatest victory of her reign- albeit her young reign- surely he was to be rewarded with more than thanks?

She turns away from him for the moment and to one of her ladies,

“Bring food and wine for two to my tent,” she commands and to another, 

“Tell Niklaus to attend to me there”

She cut a path to the cloth of gold tent set up under a great oak tree, lain with carpets and furnished as grandly as possible. There is already ale on the table and she drinks deeply, hoping that it will go straight to her empty stomach and calm her nerves as she sends her ladies away to enjoy the festivities.

The food arrives only moments before Niklaus and she notes that he tarried only long enough to remove his breast plate, revealing his dark blue doublet underneath.

He stands there with his hands behind his back and she waves towards the food,

“We would have you dine with us,” she said, gesturing to his seat, 

“And discuss the prizes we would offer you as thanks for your duty.”  

She sees the relief in his face and sinks into her chair cautiously as he takes his own, 

“Serving Your Majesty is reward enough.” he intones dutifully and she smirks,

“If that were true many a noble would be a peasant or as poor as one.”

He chuckles and they begin eating, him heartily, her picking at her food, making a pretence of dining as she resists the urge to have the server refill her cup more than once.

“What you managed in battle was believed to be impossible,” she begins, unable to wait until they have even finished the first course and she sees Niklaus pause before rapidly trying to swallow the food in his mouth and she feels embarrassed that she has put him in that position,

“My council was in a panic,” she continues quickly so that he doesn’t have to try to speak, 

“They were certain that the Spaniards would land on our shores and were begging me to take refuge in London or even the Tower itself.”

“God forbid that we ever allow that day to come,” Niklaus said and she smiled,

“The Tower is truly not that bad, if you aren’t a prisoner it can be quite nice, the royal bed chambers are some of the best in England, warm and pleasant…”

She stops when she realises that she’s describing the rooms where she sleeps and closes her mouth before she finds herself discussing the bed curtains or some other foolishness. Meanwhile, Niklaus’ tongue darts out to lick his lips and she clears her throat,

“We have had the papers drawn up,” she informs him, 

“We would show our gratitude by offering you the earldom of Leicester.”

His eyes widen in almost comical disbelief, his mouth opens and closes a few times before he can manage to speak, “An earldom? Your Majesty honours me far too…”

“It is nothing,” she interrupts, although arguably, raising the third son of a lord to an earl in one step was quite something. Filled with nervous energy she stands but waves for him to remain seated as she paced to the opening of the tent, looking out into the field of revelry despite the chilly autumn day, quickly she turned to the brazier heating up the room, 

“We would have the investiture at Hampton Court,” she says as she turns the ring on her finger, 

“And then we would ask something else of you.”

He stretches his legs under the table and out of the corner of her eye she sees how graceful he appears even when there are traces of exhaustion under his eyes, 

“However I may serve Your Majesty I will gladly do so.”

She takes a shaky breath, “I am in need of a husband,” she announces, dropping the royal ‘we’ in her nervousness  “England is in need of a Prince consort to support me in my rule.”

He frowns and falls silent as he tries to figure out his task,  

“You would have me conduct the negotiations?” he asks doubtfully, Elijah being famed as the diplomat in the family and she shakes her head.

“I would have you fill that role,” she corrects, looking up briefly before her eyes flew back to the brazier, “I would have you as my husband,” she elaborates further.

“We are in need of someone who can command our army or navy,” she brings herself to look up and meet his eyes, noting that he has gone pale and his eyebrows are halfway up his forehead,

“Someone who can defend the North but does not belong to once royal stock. A strong man but not so strong as to force us from our throne into the shadows and…we will need to provide England with an heir and we are an only child whilst your mother birthed seven living children, so you are from fertile stock therefore you are a suitable candidate.”

He tried to speak and only a croak came out before he tried again, 

“My brother Finn is a lord…”

She shakes her head, “Your brother Finn has been known to consort with women of ill-repute and rumours of his suffering from the French disease has reached our ears, we would not risk our lives in that manner.”

“My brother Elijah…?” he suggests weakly.

In truth, she had considered Elijah, he was an educated man, a brilliant diplomat, witty and a skilled musician. He was handsome and chivalrous, a true gentleman- however, Caroline had seen the love letters that he wrote to Lady Katherine and suspected that if she took him as husband, she would very shortly find him taking Lady Katherine as his mistress.

Besides, even if she could simply send Lady Katherine back to France or into exile anywhere in the world, the simple fact remained…

That Niklaus was very handsome and very exciting and if she did have to marry, she would marry someone who would be a source of happiness for her.

“We believe that you would be the most suitable for us,” she tells him firmly,

“Unless you have already promised yourself to another?”

The thought strikes her, even though she had heard nothing of the sort, certainly even though many a woman had swooned over him, few would be willing to match themselves with a disinherited third son.

He shakes his head, “I am free to marry.”

She smiles, “Good,” she holds out her hand and he stands up, gripping the arms of the chair to keep himself upright before making his way over to her slowly, swaying as if he were still aboard his ship.

“Then you will accept our proposal?” she asks as he takes her hand and kisses her ring,

“With all my heart.” he murmurs quietly.

She lets him go then, to join the festivities and he barely manages to make it out of the tent without tripping over something.

With a sigh of relief, Caroline nearly puts her hand on the brazier to steady herself before remembering at the last minute that it would burn her fingers clean off. She clears her throat and motions for the servant to bring her cup, having it filled to the brim before drinking deeply and deciding to try to eat,

“You will not say a word of this to anyone.” she warns them darkly as she cuts into the roast swan.  

If nothing else, she didn’t want the Court to know how much she’d had to convince Niklaus to accept her hand marriage. He’d seemed rather reluctant.

She hoped the idea wasn’t too distasteful to him, if nothing else she would bring him a great deal of power.