So I realized that a most of my Post-Curse/Parenting headcanons have been pretty heavily focused on Adam and Belle and I felt the need to write a post dedicated to Lumière and Plumette headcanons because let’s face it, they are adorable!
So here are some fluffy post-curse/parenting Lumiette heacanons.
There is a little bit of cross-over with this post here but most are new… Enjoy!
- Lumière and Plumette get engaged shortly after
the curse is broken. Now that they are human again, they can’t wait to spend
the rest of their lives together. Lumière plans this grand, elaborate proposal
with flowers and candles and feathers everywhere, a fully choreographed song
and dance number with Cadenza, Garderobe, and Chapeau all set to accompany him
in the ballroom. When he leads her down the hall to the ballroom, he finds
himself overwhelmed by his love for her. The sparkle of curiosity in her eye as
she asks him what he is up to. The way she laughs as she plays along with his
antics. The way her hand feels in his. He realizes all the spectacle in the
world he could create would never compare to this beautiful woman beside him.
Just like that, all of his plans go out the window. He proposes right there in
the hall. When Cadenza and Gardarobe start to wonder what is taking them so
long, they go looking for them and find Plumette and Lumière making out on the
floor. Lumière smiles up from the floor at them, Plumette still on top of him,
and giddily says “She said yes!”
- In the weeks that followed the curse being
broken, Lumière and Plumette end up having many a romantic tryst about the
castle. It is not an uncommon sight for them to be found emerging from some
secluded corner looking a bit disheveled, Lumière fixing his jacket and nodding
casually to whoever catches them.
- Adam insists on paying for Lumière and Plumette’s
wedding. He feels guilty that the curse prevented the happy day for so long, so
paying for the wedding is the least he feels he can do. “Anything they want.”
He insists. Lumière makes this into a bit of a game and begins to come to Adam
with increasingly over the top ideas. Adam, still being the extra party thrower
that he is, is completely on board with these ideas. Plumette eventually reels Lumière
in before things get too out of hand.
- Cogsworth is Lumière’s best man and Madame Garderobe
is Plumette’s matron of honor. Adam and Belle serve as groomsman and bridesmaid
as well. Maestro Cadenza walks Plumette down the aisle. He considers Plumette
to be like the daughter he never had. Garderobe gives a long, gushing speech on
how beautiful the love that these two share is and includes a few funny stories
of their antics that make everyone laugh. Cogsworth’s speech is very short and
delivered in his signature matter-of-fact way, but heartfelt. Everyone is in
tears when he is done.
- Every now
and then Lumière will talk with Cadenza about just how in love he is with
Plumette because he knows the Maestro gets what it feels like to be so
overwhelmingly in love with your wife.
ever just look at her and wonder how you got so inexplicably lucky to have her
in your life?”
- When Lumière first finds out
Plumette is expecting twins he oscillates from overjoyed excitement to uncharacteristically
quiet worrying. Adam figures out how to use the magic mirror as a sort of
magical ultrasound. After that, Lumière is completely at ease.
-Any time Plumette has even
the slightest pregnancy craving, Lumière is hell-bent on getting it for her. No
matter what it is, he will run about until he finds it for her.
“My Prince! I am in search for some blackberries for Plumette. Do you know
where I might find some?”
“Lumière, it is November…”
“And my beloved has requested berries and she will have them! Are you going to
help me or not?”
- Just like Plumette and Belle end up supporting each other through their pregnancies,
Lumière and Adam end up supporting each other as they both step into their new roles as fathers. They’re both just so incredibly proud of their children. The sounds of them playing and laughing with the kids becomes pretty common around the castle.
- Plumette and Lumière and up
having a boy and a girl. They name their son Lumière Soleil Henry Adam
and their daughter Claire Luna Aria Belle (Soleil and Luna for short.) They
both have their mother’s curls and their father’s smile.
- One day, when the twins are
about three years old Cogsworth comes to Lumière and says “Congratulations.
Your children officially talk more than you do.” And just walks away, looking
exhausted and defeated. A few minutes later the twins come scampering in asking
where “Uncle Cogsworth” is. Lumière smiles and tells them “You just missed him.
He was just saying how he wants to teach you all about the castle. But you have
to find him first!” gesturing in the direction that Cogsworth just went,
laughing to himself as he watches his children go bounding along in search for
- Whenever the twins get
scared of the dark, Lumière tells them the story of “The Candelabra and the Feather
Duster” until they’re no longer afraid. He makes sure to leave a light glowing
outside their door as a night light as well.
- Tickle fights happen quite often with the twins and Plumette. They can happen at any time, without warning.
- Lumière and Plumette teach
the twins how to dance. Lumière uses “demonstrating” a dance as an excuse to
dance with Plumette during the start of these lessons. He’ll dip her or twirl
her around dramatically to get the children to laugh. The twins mostly stand on their parents’ feet
in their first few lessons.
- Both children end up taking
music lessons from Cadenza and Gardarobe. While both twins are equally
talented, Luna practices more so her musical technique is better. Soleil makes
up for his shortcomings with showmanship. Cadenza and Gardarobe absolutely
adore the twins and insist that they are prodigies fit to tour the world.
Plumette convinces them not to plan any concert tours until the children are
grown for the sake of their schooling and keeping their childhood as relatively
normal as possible.
- While the older members of the castle still stick to more proper titles, Belle convinces them to let the titles slide with the younger generation of the castle. To the rest of the castle Belle’s daughter might be Princess Amélie Rose, but to Soleil and Luna she is just their best friend, Rosie. When the twins are toddlers they refer to Adam as “Uncle Highness” and Cadenza as “Grand-père Maestro.” Lumière and Plumette love the familial sense that Belle brings to the castle, even if they themselves can’t quite feel comfortable calling their prince just “Adam” after so many years of addressing him formally.
- Rosie, Soleil, and Luna
often orchestrate little plays and perform them for the members of the castle
and the villagers. They perform a variety of literary based shows, but their
favorite story to reenact is that of the enchantment of their own castle. They’ve
heard versions of the tale as a bedtime story from just about everyone in the
castle. They also like to add their own spin to the tale every now and then. These
shows end up being fairly improvisational and there is usually a lot of audience
participation involved.(I wrote a short fanfic of this. You can read it here)
- As the twins get older, Lumière relishes teasing them, making terrible dad jokes, and playfully embarrassing them from time to time. He gets really excited when he finds out Soleil has his first crush on a girl. He sits him down and gives him some really good fatherly advice on how to court a girl (unlike Cogsworth’s advice of “flowers, chocolates, promises you don’t intend to keep…”) When he is older, Soleil ends up writing several notes and poems for Rosie. The two become quite an item, ultimately ruining any chances other suitors may have had with the princess. Because of their childhood friendship, Soleil has always treated Rosie like a person and a friend first and a princess second. This won her over more than any note ever could have.
Did Louis cheat on games? Or just bc he is lucky and has good card?
Louis cheats like a maestro. But he is one. Everyone has to be on their toes when he’s play, otherwise you’ll lose your shirt. And he’ll pull that rug out from under you before you even realise it’s happening.
It’s almost like a lesson in what it feels like to fall in love with him.
So, this prompt came from here, and it was my own in a roundabout way but whatever. I need to exorcise Olicity sex from my brain and exploring smutty alter ego of Oliver was too good to resist. This is slightly rough. You have been warned. :)
The rain was pounding down on the concrete as Felicity slowly made her way across the street in the middle of the moonless night, towards the store round the corner for a pint of ice-cream. It seemed like that was all she survived on these days. Her heart, since returning from Nanda Parbat half a dozen weeks ago,was both heavy and hopeful. Heavy because how did you leave the man you loved and the man who had made you see stars over and over again and the man you knew was doomed so you tried to drug him out of a secret tunnel by joining hands with Viper Merlyn but still failing and leaving with nothing but a goodbye kiss?
Hopeful because duh. The man was as subtle as a freight train and he had dropped really ridiculous hints that he would be back and not to give up hope which she wasn’t but it was hard. Hence her staple diet of ice-cream and memories of that one night on satin sheets that left her panting at night. Boy, he owed her a lot of orgasms when he came back. He would be lucky if she let him even walk after she was done and since he was a woman, and hello, blessed with multiple orgasms that he knew exactly how to give, yup. No walking for him.
But she walked on for now, lost in her fantasies, getting drenched but not really caring, the cooling drops feeling good on her over-heated skin. She was just walking past an alley when a gloved hand shot out of nowhere and grabbed her, pulling her into the darkness of the street. She started to yell but the hand muffled her mouth. Channeling her inner Sandra Bullock, she tried the SING move but the man was gargantuan and did not even let her move.
But it was when her front was pressed into the wall that fear truly struck her. And the way the man pressed himself against her back made it very clear that his little man was not so little anymore. She had to get away. For herself. For Oliver. With renewed strength, she twisted and turned and struggled but the man kept her pinned, letting her tire out.
Heart thumping and sinking down to her knees, she was about to sob out when she felt his lips graze the hollow just between her ear and her neck, the hollow that she had hated when she was a kid, the hollow that was her supernova spot, the hollow that only one man knew was her turn on button, and she froze. It was the hollow that not one of her few lovers, creepy as the word was, had ever discovered. None except Oliver. And he had spent more than half the night going back and forth between her lips and that spot, his stubble grazing it just the right way, his tongue flicking over it in a way she didn’t even know was possible.
She felt the same flick of tongue on her wet, slippery skin, at the exact same spot, and she felt her body relax, and get aroused. The fact that he had gone for that spot first told her it was him. He knew her body like a maestro. He kept softly licking at the spot, and a mewl escaped her before she could notice it, his hand leaving her mouth. The rain was pelting down on them and she slippery feel on her skin just inflamed her more, her eyes drifting down to his hands. They were covered in black leather. Slowly turning her head around, she took him in and her heart stuttered.
He was in the League’s black, his big, broad body even broader and even more imposing in their clothes, his face covered in some black fabric that only left his brilliant blue eyes visible, blue steely eyes that just gazed back at her, so unlike that night when they had been submerged in love and heat. Oh, there was heat even now, and love too on the fringes, but there was something else in his eyes that made her heart race, something so primitive and bestial and animalistic that it made her gut clench.
She put up her hand to draw his mask down, to expose his face, but as soon as she raised it, he pressed himself into her ass, pressing her into the wall and bit down on her neck, his mask somehow not stopping his mouth to be naked on her skin. She yelped at the harsh bite of his teeth and he soothed the spot with his tongue, thrusting over her hips over the layers of drenched clothes.
She pushed back against him, aroused despite herself, her nipples hardening into buds with the heat and the cold. Moaning, she felt him remove a glove with his teeth, his other hand holding her down, making her writhe against the rough wall. She had thought that given the last time, maybe he would tease and taste and explore a little before going into the let’s-make-felicity-an-inferno-territory. She was wrong.
Before she could blink, his hand was under her skirt, she heard the rip in her panties and felt him invade her core with two fingers, knuckle deep before she could even realize what was happening, and she cried out sharply at the invasion. She was already so so wet for him, her body weeping for the release only he would give her. He added a third finger and pumped them furiously in and out of her, while she clutched at the wall, her entire body shivering with the crescendo that was building over and over and over again.
Suddenly, as soon as he had thrust in, he pulled his fingers out, turning her chin with one hand and making her watch as he licked each digit clean of her juices, his mask on the ground with her torn panties. Her throat dried, watching as he savored her taste, keeping their eyes together, cleaning his fingers thoroughly of any residue, and swooped down, penetrating her mouth with his tongue without warning. There were no teasing, peppery kisses this time. This time, he was going all for it, making her taste herself on his pillaging, forceful tongue, thrusting into her mouth repeatedly, battling with her tongue for dominance.
His hands came in front of her blouse and he ripped the buttons off with grip, in a gesture that inflamed her senses to complete ecstasy. Boy he was hot, and very un-Oliver-y, but he was still Oliver and she knew he would never hurt her. So when his hands pulled down her bra cups and covered the skin, rolling the engorged nipples in his fingers roughly, she arched into him, pushing her hips back into erection.
Suddenly, like he was doing everything tonight, he pushed up her skirt to her waist, exposing her completely to his eyes in the dark side street, and hiked one leg up with his hand under her knee, spreading her wide and almost naked against the wall. A few seconds passed, his eyes roving her exposed flesh, and then he was against her wet heat, coating himself in her juices, the rain water still pouring down on them.
And then, he thrust up into her, burying himself to the hilt in one motion while biting hard on her hollow spot, eliciting a loud cry from her. Her bare breasts rubbed against the arm he had wrapped around them to protect it from scraping on the wall, but the friction of her wet skin against his wet, rough forearms was so delicious that she groaned. He pulled completely out of her before she had even adjusted to having his huge girth inside her, and thrust in again, biting that hollow spot again, rubbing his arm across her nipples again. The combined sensation was too heady for her body, and her knees weakened, crumbling, unable to support her anymore.
And then, like he had just hiked her up and flipped her over that night with brute strength, he took a step from the wall, making her back lean completely into him, supporting her entire weight by the arm against her breast and on her hiked leg, keeping her exposed to him. It was so hot that she felt another gush of wetness engulf her insides, and feeling it perhaps, he pulled back and thrust in faster than earlier, but not stopping this time, drilling her hole with his erection, pounding and biting and sucking and nibbling and she was losing it, feeling the arousal coil tighter and tighter inside her, getting ready for an explosion she knew would have her scream.
“Oliver,” she panted and he froze, making her heart scream in frustration. She had been so close. She tried to move but he held her still, slowly muttering against her ear in his low voice, the one she had missed so, so terribly.
“Say my name.”
She blinked the rain out. “Oliver.”
He tightened his arms around her and growled. “No. Say my name.”
She turned her head to look at him. “I am. Oliver!”
“I am not him. Say my name.”
And she got it. All of a sudden it became so unbelievably clear and she wanted to smack his face. Her anger spiked and she enunciated deliberately. “OLIVER!”
A primal sound escaped his throat and he pulled out of her, leaving her wet and weeping for his possession. But he was not done. He turned her around and pinned her against the wall, pulling her hips forward so that only her shoulders rested on the wall, pulling up her body with only his arms under her knees, the position automatically spreading her wider that she had ever been, and he slid in again. Her eyes fluttered close.
He thrust hard, so hard her mind blanked for a second, letting her walls feel him to the hilt. “Say my name!”
She grit her teeth that had started chattering a little for some reason. “Are you trying to seek your identity in my vagina?” she challenged.
With a loud roar, he doubled his pace, a feat she had not thought possible, and pistoned his pelvis right into hers, hitting her g-spot almost every time, her clit rubbing against his hard muscle on each thrust, every twist and rotation of his hips in that mad, frantic pace setting her on fire like never before.
Her orgasm hit her hard, out of the blue, and she screamed out his name over and over again, shaking her head frantically, her body shaking and shivering but her climax just went on and on and he just kept on pounding harder and faster and more erratic. Her naked breasts heaved and her hands clutched to his black uniform that he was still wearing, ravishing her, fucking her like a wild animal. She had not seen this side of him and she had to admit it turned her on.
He swooped down back to that hollow spot below her ear and bit it hard, making her pant again. She could feel another explosion coming and she was not going to survive this.
“Oliver,” she panted. He kept moving in and out of her, shaking his head, his roughness telling her she would be sore and achy tomorrow. She closed her eyes.
“Oliver. Oliver. Oliver. Oliver,” she kept chanting, just as another wave washed over her, white spots dancing behind her eyelids as she clung to him, keeping him as the anchor that would hold her to the ground.
With another roar, he exploded inside her, filling her like he had once before, gripping her thighs so hard she knew he would leave a mark. Tomorrow when she would look at herself in the mirror, the evidence of her ravishment would be branded all over her skin.
Slowly regaining his control, he slipped out of her, righting his clothes and putting up his mask that fit his face well, again, as she tried to right her own self under his cool gaze.
“So is this a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am thing?” she asked, nervously waiting for his answer. She knew Oliver loved her more than anything else but the man before her did not believe himself to be Oliver. So what of that love he had for her?
He stepped back and for the first time, she saw him completely in his new attire, so dark and dead against him. He was better than that dull ache of a color. He did not answer, but took another step back, before vanishing into the shadows, leaving her standing there in the rain, questioning her own sanity.
But the proof of his being was etched all upon her. The proof of his existence breathed in her red skin. Al-Saheem may have merged with the night he had embraced but it was Oliver who had sought her out and ravished her.
And her Oliver was a creature of habit.
She smiled and walked back to her apartment, her heart lighter than it had been for a very long time.
Are you still doing the prompts list drabble thingy? If so, 8 please ;)
Hope you enjoy!
14 days , 13 hours and 7 minutes. 14 days , 13 hours and 7 minutes since Bucky left for a mission. 14 days , 13 hours and 7 minutes without his touch and to say you needed it was an understatement.
So when Bucky cracked your door open late at night you shot up in bed.
“[Y/N]?” He whispered your name into the dark bedroom in case you were asleep.
“Bucky” you had missed him terribly and the yearning in your voice was obvious.
He turned on a low lamp and made his way over to you. When his lips finally met yours after such a long time , you swore you felt electricity crackle inbetween you. Bucky kissed you hard , pouring all his emotions into the way his lips moved with yours. When his lips travelled lightly down the column of your neck you moaned low in your throat. “You have no idea how much I missed you and your touch , Buck” you keened and leaned into his touch more. Bucky brought your hand to his pants and you felt he was already hard.
“I think I have some idea , doll” he mused , smirk spreading slowly on his face.
Your hand deftly undid the button and zipped on his pants. But he stopped you with a gentle touch before you could go any further. “You first” he said simply nodding his head to the shirt you were wearing. His shirt. Pulling the blue Henley over your head your shook out your locks. Bucky’s eyes were fixed on the soft slope of your breasts and how perfect you looked completely bared to him in the dim room.
With a small smile you nodded toward him. Understanding what you wanted , he stripped himself of his clothes while you watched. His metal arm glinted slightly but you hardly noticed as your gaze wondered to his cock. In a heartbeat he was on you. “Are you ready for me, doll?” He spoke against your breasts as he lavished them with kisses. You mewled in response and Bucky travelled his right hand down your body leaving goosebumps in his wake.
He found you completely wet , those long nights alone fuelling you. “Perfect” he said simply and two long fingers entered you. Bucky moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him. He caresses your neck with his metal hand , traveling down to tweak a nipple. Your back arches when he hits that spot expertly , playing you like a maestro would a piano. Moans and pants are all that’s heard in the small room. You groan his name when he touches your clit for the first time. “Bucky” and it is drawn out as a sigh.
“Come for me , [Y/N]” Bucky says and you do. In that moment you feel like you’re flying with Bucky’s name on your lips. He kisses you softly , wiping the sweat drenched hair from your face. His eyes connect with yours as he wraps his fist around his erection in preparation. It is almost throbbing with need as are you. He aligns himself and enters you slowly. Every inch is reconnecting you , reconnecting your bodies , hearts and souls. His movements are full of need and lust. With every roll of his hips he hits your precious spot and you’re writhing with pleasure , still alight from your first orgasm.
“Come again for me , I’m not going to last much longer” Bucky’s voice was husky as he whispered in your ear. His body on top of you felt tense as he held back his own pleasure so you could feel yours once more. When his cool metal hand touched your clit gently you screamed Bucky’s name , which was muffled in his shoulder. You gripped tightly onto Bucky and his movements became less rhythmed.
“I love you Bucky” your hand raked through his hair , and with those words he came.
“Maybe I should leave for longer next time” Bucky joked , sweat glistening on his body as he fell next to you.
Send me a prompt from this list and I’ll write a drabble!
Juan Gabriel was-and will always be-much more than a Mexican singer to me. He was born with a talent like no other, no one can replace such an icon like El Maestro. He truly changed an era of pop culture in Mexico and Latin America. Not only did he stun and and shock with his extravagant costumes, performances, and lyrics, he shook a nation. Coming from a country where queer representation is repressed and machismo spurts from every corner, his presence changed the meaning of being a true Mexican into a more diverse definition. He was considered one of the 3 Idols of Mexico. He was an inspiration for thousands of singers, songwriters, poets. His lyrics will always be etched in the back of our minds, and will forever hold a spot in our grand hearts. D.E.P Juanga
You had to admit it, you felt beautiful. You wore a long dark red velvet dress which trailed onto the floor. The short sleeves were off the shoulder, giving it a sweetheart neckline. It fitted you perfectly, hugging your hips and waist. Even though you had borrowed it from a friend for the evening. Around your neck was a necklace made of imitation pearls and your long (h/c) hair rolled down your shoulders in waves. Your makeup was pretty plain but what stood out were your red lips, matching your dress. You were at another one of Bruce Wayne’s extravagant parties.
Bruce had been your friend since school. Your parents had scrimped and saved to gather the money to get you there but you rewarded them with an incredibly high science degree and a successful job. You now supported your parents financially where you could, even it meant that your own money was tight. Even though you were a couple of years younger than him you had met Bruce at school and became great friends. Knowing him now for years you had supported him in his studies and was always there to give advice if needed. You got the feeling that this year’s party invite was somewhat of an ‘I’m sorry for being a bit of an idiot, let me make this up to you’ kind of thing. He had been acting distant recently, something about finding a cave under his house and he had work to do there. Whenever you ask to see the cave he just straight up refuses.
The interior of Wayne Manor was absolutely stunning. The massive entertainment room that you were in had wooden floors and most of the walls were lined with big windows, so you could gaze out at Gotham City’s skyline. Which now had lit up to twinkle in the moonlight. A band was playing some jazz which was the perfect background music for the event. You look around the room which was filled with people who were either talking about how successful their business was or how rich they were. You always felt a bit out of place at these events as you didn’t have much in common with the other guests. Making these parties very boring for you. Your attendance was only ever because of Bruce as he would always ask you to come and say “yeah, but it is going to be so much fun.” you roll your eyes at the thought. You knew that for Bruce these occasions were purely to keep updated with and make new business connections. But you always felt that the money used could be better spent helping others in need.
“Hey (y/n), so glad you could make it again. You look amazing.” it was Bruce dressed in a suit, holding a champagne glass. You gave him a hug. “Thank you, you look great. It looks like a good turnout, the room is practically full.” you smile. “Yes, a rather successful evening.” he gleams. You weren’t that great at small talk and you were struggling to think of something to say. Bruce was totally different at these events. Quite Pompous as he puts his wealth on display and brags about his success. “Excuse me (y/n), I must go and speak to Mr Gregson over there.” “Have fun” you say with a hint of sarcasm. With that he was gone and he will probably not come back to talk to you for the rest of the night. You glance around sighing as there is no one that you recognise.
Suddenly the lights go off. Perhaps this was to create suspense for the forthcoming buffet? As the lights come back on you hear the sound of a gun being fired. People scream and start run to the edges of the room or attempt to dash out the door. Still in shock you freeze. Great, the one time that you should move quickly and you are glued to the spot. You look around for Bruce but he is nowhere to be seen. Surely he would want to protect his house somehow. In walked two huge men, each carrying a gun. Behind them was a strange looking man. He had bright green hair that was neatly slicked back and red lipstick on his mouth. He was wearing a white unbuttoned shirt, which revealed his chest and a vast collection of gold jewellery. His skin was very pale and covered in tattoos. You’d seen him before on the news. It was Joker, the biggest and most famous criminal in Gotham City. “Sorry to crash the party.” he laughs as he looks at his two goons. “But we were just wondering if Mr Wayne was home?” There was complete silence as the two goons start to move around the crowd and look for Bruce. You stare at the Joker, still in shock. He stopped looking around the room and looks straight at you. Damn, that is the last thing you want. You quickly avert your eyes and start to gaze at the floor. Out of all the rich people he could pick for a hostage, you get the feeling that he is going to pick on you.
Hearing his footsteps starting to walk towards you, you look back up to him. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” he grins showing off his silver teeth. His voice was soft yet mocking. “A pretty little rose.” He stands in front of you, his blue eyes burning into yours. “Or maybe a mocking bird?” he says pulling the plastic pearls from your neck and throwing them on to the floor. He starts to circle you a few times. Probably more for visual effect as you were already scared. He stands behind you poking his head over your shoulder. Suddenly he grabs and pulls the end of your long (h/c) hair, forcing your chin to rise. “Hey look, we match.” he laughs pointing to your red lipstick and then to his own red mouth. The goons laugh along with him. His other arm roughly wraps around your waist and he rests his head on your shoulder. You start to shake at this unwanted embrace. “Aww, soooo pretty.” he says with a lot of sarcasm. A tear starts to roll down your cheek.
“Wayne ain’t here boss.“one of the goons shout across the room. Joker let’s go of your hair and waist and walks in front of you, looking at the crowd. “How rude! To host a party and not be present.” he turns to face you again. “I’m sure that he will show his face soon enough. We’ll just have to find a way to pass the time. Won’t we doll?” he winks at you with a massive grin on his face. What did he want to do with you? Different scenarios start to run through your mind. This was more than you could take and you weren’t going to be publicly humiliated without a fight. You then do something that neither of you were expecting. Raising your hand, you slapped him across the face. He looked stunned as the smile faded from his face. Not only had you struck him but you had struck him with a big audience watching. You burst out laughing, not only because of the look of shock on his face but also because his silver teeth made a ‘ding’ sound as you had hit him. He starts to laugh with you but more loudly and sarcastically. You both stop laughing as he grabs your wrist with such force that you thought he was going to break it. “Let me make this perfectly clear.” he growls. “You will do what I want. Or these fine gentlemen” he points to his goons “Might have to get their guns, and say goodbye to these people one by one.” People from around the room began to gasp with fear. You were confused as to why he didn’t just kill you then and there. He must like to play with his prey first.
“Maestro” he called as he pointed to the band who nervously grabbed their instruments. They started to play a slow version of David Bowie’s ‘Prettiest Star’. Subconsciously you try to pull away from the Joker but he is just too strong. Keeping a firm grip on your wrist, his other arm went around the small of your back. He pushed on it, crushing your body into his and clamping it there. He looked at you and then his shoulder, encouraging for you to put your hand there. All you could do was comply. You started to slow dance around the room. The Joker began to close his eyes and hum along to the song which caught you off guard. There was something hypnotic about it, as you felt your body relax. Sensing this, he releases his grip on you a little. This is the most strangest and surreal moment of your life. Slow dancing with a master criminal, even if it was against your will.
Oddly, you start to appreciate how close you two were. You could feel his steady heartbeat and breathing. Surely he could feel yours going ten to the dozen as you were still on edge. Wait, did he really just let out a sigh of contentment? You look up at him and he opens his eyes, staring into yours. A kinder smile compared to his crazy one begins to spread across his face. He seemed a bit more approachable now. Well, as approachable as a psychopathic criminal holding you hostage could be. You want to ask him why? Why you? Why dancing? Why did he want Bruce? You start to open your mouth with a question on the tip of your tongue.
Suddenly, the sound of fighting and screaming erupts into the room. It was Batman, Gotham City’s new hero. He makes short work of the Joker’s goons, leaving them unconscious on the floor. Both you and the Joker jump at the burst of noise and he grips onto you a little tighter. Looking into his face you could see that the softness has gone and his eyes looked crazy again, with that horribly wide smirk returning. Batman starts to herd the crowd out of the room. They all ran as quickly as they could. Now it was just the three of you. Batman turned to see you in the Joker’s grip. This was the first time that you had seen Batman in person. He was wearing a black skintight suit, showing off his large muscles and a hooded mask with pointed ears on the top. His cape made him look even bigger. He looked scary but there was a familiarity in his eyes that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You could see that he was very annoyed to find you in the Joker’s arms for some reason. “Let. Her. Go” Batman says in a low rough voice as he approaches the two of you. “Aw but Bats, we were having a bit of a moment.” Joker laughs. Suddenly he grabs your butt, making you flinch. He was relishing in how angry that made Batman. “LET HER GO!” Batman growled again. “Sorry doll, but I’ve gotta run. Perhaps you’ll get lucky and will be my hostage again sometime.” the Joker laughed loosening his grip on you. He slid one of his hands down your arm to hold yours. The other went behind your head pushing it towards his face. He kissed you roughly, pressing his lips on yours. Not out of mockery because he made it seem that there was an urgentness about it. Like it was something that he had been thinking about doing for a while and he couldn’t resist any longer. Removing the grip from the back of your head he put his other hand under yours. Placing a light peck on your hand like you had watched gentlemen do in the movies. You were stunned at how unpredictable he was. One moment he appeared thoughtful and tender, the next he was mean and sarcastic. He let go of your hands, his eyes fixed on yours.
Batman wandered ever closer towards you two. His eyes were fierce as if he was going to tear the Joker’s head off if he touched you again. The two men begin to circle each other in a silent stand off. Each weighing up the other. “Please don’t” you whisper, as you didn’t want anyone to get hurt. Suddenly they charged at one another. It looked like Batman was physically stronger as he pushed the Joker and himself through a window. Outside, they start to fight each other. You hear the sound of police sirens in the distance and they start to get louder. You were still in shock at the evening’s events. Staring down you uncurl your fingers. To your surprise there was a Joker card from a pack of playing cards in your hand. On the other side of the card the words ‘If you ever need a laugh’ were scrawled on it, along with a phone number. You look up at the two men who were still fighting outside and smile.
He won everything that he could win. It’s like the maestro with the orchestra. That’s what he was for me. He’s the type of guy who will get really upset if he loses a ball in training. That will drive him mad.
Cos the thing about Mozart, right,’ [Carl] said suddenly. ‘This is the thing right here - I mean about the Requiem - I don’t know too much about his other shit, but that Requiem, that we were listening to - OK, so you know the Lacrimosa part?’
His fingers worked the air like a maestro, hoping to conduct the reaction he wanted out of his new companion.
'The Lacrimosa - you know it, man.
'Er… no,’ said Zora […].
Ít’s like the eighth bit,’ said Carl impatiently. 'I sampled it for this tune I made, after I heard it at that show, right - and it’s crazy - with all the angels singing higher and higher and those violins, man - swish dah DAH, swish da DAH, swish dah DAH - it’s amazing, listening to that - and it sounds mad cool when you put words over the top and a beat below - you know the part, it’s like -’ said Carl and began to hum the tune again.
[…] 'And so anyway, man, it turns out that that section - it wasn’t even by him - I mean, it was partly him, right? Obviously he passed away halfway through, and then other people had to be brought in to finish it off. And it turns out that the main business of the Lacrimosa was by this guy Süssmayr - which is the shit, man, 'cos it’s like the best thing in the Requiem, and it made me think damn, you can be so close to genius that it like lifts you up - it’s like Süssmayr, this guy, stepped up to the bat, right, like a rookie, and then he went and hit it out of the park - and all these people be trying to prove that it’s Mozart 'cos that fits in with their idea of who can read and who can’t make music like this, but the deal is that this amazing sound was just by this guy Süssmayr, this average Joe Shmo guy. I was tripping when I read that shit.’