number one insult

Stop using “psycho” and “psychotic” as insults to a character.



This was the other outline I had for my original secret santa prompt and even though I went with my other idea I just couldn’t let it go- so credit for this existing goes to @pozolegirl whose prompt this is also based on ^_~ 

Anyways enjoy this last little bit of holiday cheer. ^_^ 


December 1st 9:24 p.m.

“Do you really think these terrible lines of yours will ever work Chaton?”

Chat grinned as Ladybug once again rolled her eyes at his flirtation.

“Eventually,” he said lightly, leaning in so that their noses were almost touching.  

“How? They are terrible! Why would anyone think that combining puns and pick up lines is attractive?” She put a finger square in the middle of his chest and pushed him, flicking his bell once he was back to his original position.

“Because it’s funny. And everyone knows women love a guy with a sense of humor.”

“Aww poor Chaton. Looks like you will die alone.”


“I’m just teasing minou. There must be some poor soul out there that will put up with you.”

“Are you offering?” he asked, already bracing for yet another rejection.

“Ha. Hardly.”

And there it was.

For all their flirting- and Chat would argue to his dying breath that for all her denials she was definitely flirting back- he had never managed to get past the suggestive bantering stage of his courtship. After a year and a half of attempts it was beginning to get a little disheartening.

“Come on my lady, give me a chance? One kiss. We can call it a Christmas Miracle.” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as desperately pathetic to her as it did to him.

“Ok, you want a Christmas Miracle?” she asked, giving him a serious once over, “If you can come up with one of your horrible puns that actually makes me laugh between now and Christmas eve, I will kiss you.”

“Are you serious?” he gasped.


“That’s it? Just make you laugh?” he ask, waiting for some sort of impossible catch.

“With a pun.”

Ah. There it was.

“How many am I allowed to make?” he asked cautiously, already forming a plan in his mind. It was difficult certainly, but not impossible.

“As many as I can stomach I suppose,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders and giving him playful smile.

“You must really want to kiss me after all my lady,” he teased, grasping her hand in his and brining it flirtatiously to his lips.  

“No I just know that your jokes aren’t that funny. Perhaps this will teach you that as well and I can finally be free of them. It will be my Christmas present to myself.”

“We shall see, My Lady.”

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anonymous asked:

You're a World War II veteran with superhuman strength and abilities. So why are you wasting all your time with that pathetic little brat T.J. Hammond? What kind of life can a junkie like him ever give you?

First of all, what does my status from the war or what my body has been subjected to have to do with any choice I make regarding my love life? Do you know me personally? No you do not. Just because I’m a ‘superhuman’ and have these ‘abilities’ and ‘served in a war’ does not mean that I can’t make a choice on who I want to date or not. That’s not your business in the least, and fuck you for thinking that it is. I’m not what society is so desperate to make me out to be, and I could give less of a fuck as to what you think my standards to be. Second off, how fucking dare you turn around think that you’re even remotely in the position to judge a man that you don’t even know, only know what the media has put out about him. He’s not a pathetic little brat in the last; he’s a man that’s had his life torn apart by the fishbowl and by a family that cared more about imagery than his own personal well being. He is not a junkie – he’s doing his best to stay sober and that’s why I’m there to turn around and help him, and support him. What can he give me? He can give me love, support, understanding for the things I’ve been through. He doesn’t look at me like everyone else does, like I’m a freak of nature or like I’m going to snap at any given moments. I don’t have to worry about disappointing him because he doesn’t know me from before. So if you think that isn’t enough? That’s not worthy? Then you can go fuck yourself in the ass with a cactus for all I care. And if that’s not enough? There is very much a vibranium plated arm that would gladly meet your face.