#and pretending to make fun of amy

[paimonial-rage]

My most interacted with fics:

Cocky Bastard Vibes (Zhongli)

Tipsy Tales (Anemo boys)

Why He Rejected You (pt 1)

Telling Them Off (Ayato, Venti, Xiao)

A Sight to Behold (Yae Miko)

Obvious (Neuvillette)

Simple (Alhaitham)

What Destiny Has Brought (Fischl)

Why He Rejected You (pt 2)

Blasphemous Assumptions (Zhongli)

[heartbeetz]

I'm not the kind of person who likes having fankids for my ships. So the thing about Amy (Anton's kid) is that she's not even really a fankid. She's just my version of his canon kid who 1) we haven't actually seen (only heard about) and 2) I made non-canon in my selfship outside of an au. Like I would NOT have designed her if "Anton's a single dad and his daughter is a little pink hedgehog girl named Amy (but definitely not That one. wink)" was not a running thing. Sorry Anton for un-canoning ur already ambiguously canon daughter

[nyupuun]

I love decks that have an assosciation to characters (I like) so much, even if its the faintest ever. Like yeah I'm going to learn Machina, Bruno uses it in TF6 after all.

[bonesandchalamet]

lessons in french- t.chalamet

pairings: timothee chalamet x reader

warnings: google translated French

a/n: first post on this account 😁 my main is @thatsdemko 🫶 feedback is always appreciated xx

“and how do I say ‘I love you’ again?”

“Je t'aime.” he says, mouth full of a buttery croissant you fetched from the bakery across the street. it’s your morning ritual, the boy who lives across town comes to your apartment and you get him “New Yorks finest croissants”— at least that’s how he puts it as.

your recent discovery was of his ability to speak a different language, French that is, and ever since you’ve been begging for lessons due to your upcoming trip to Europe. you could say New York public school systems failed you, as you barely remember a lick of the words he makes you repeat.

“and what about stop making a mess of my sofa.” you scowl brushing the pastry crumbs that scatter the cream colored seats. he mumbled a sorry as he finishes his last bite, a delighted moan escapes his lips.

“why the sudden interest in the language again?” he asks brushing his hands on his pants rather than using the crummy paper napkin that’s already wadded up and disintegrating from the butter of his hands.

“because I’m going to Europe in three weeks! I can’t look like an idiot.”

“certaines choses ne peuvent pas être changées.” he lightly giggles shaking his head watching your face scrunch up trying to dissect the sentence, but you fail. some things can’t be changed

you huff an annoyed sigh, arms crossed over your chest, “I wish I never bought you that croissant years ago.” you joke watching his acting skills come to life as he pretends to be hurt.

“now you’re just being straight up rude, amour.”

—

“so when a nice guy offers me a drink at the club what should I say?”

“J'ai un petit-ami.” the same buttery croissant fills his mouth, he watches you saunter across your tiny New York City living room. he admits, you not knowing any French is fun for him. it means he has all control of what you repeat back and what you write in your journal for the trip. this one might’ve just been the icing on the cake. I have a boyfriend

“J’ai un petit-ami? doesn’t that mean something else?” you question, head cocked to the side watching him shake his head in response as he swallows the pastry.

“nope.” he replies, reaching for the hot coffee you’ve provided him, he slurps the contents watching your pen move vigorously across the page. he thinks it’s cute how focused you are, he loves how close you hold the notebook to your face and how you spell out the words in a way only you will know what they mean.

“so are all French people assholes? I’ve been reading up on your people.”

he laughs, “my people?” he watches the red hue light your face, hands up in defense, “that’s what the internet says!”

he laughs once more telling you to never believe the internet, although he did play you into thinking the words “I have a boyfriend” mean something completely different, so maybe he is apart of that collective group.

—

“repeat it to me once more, amour.”

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?” do you want to sleep with me tonight

he chuckles a little to himself trying to find a serious tone, “that’s exactly what you should say to the cab driver.”

you chuck an orange at him watching his hands go up in defense as he allows the fruit to hit him the arm, two of you laughing, “this isn’t funny, Timmy! I leave in twenty-four hours!”

he watches you collapse against the cream colored sofa beside him, legs extending into his lap, “how am I supposed to order croissants for you across the world?” you bat your eyelids in an affection way, it’s your last hope to get help— the pastry was already the key to his heart. it gets him to do anything.

“what a dilemma that is.” he shakes his head, fingers tangling through his curls that fall in front of his eyes, “just don’t forget your notebook and you’ll be fine. do you remember how to order?”

“un croissant š'il vous plaît.” a croissant please

“tu est parfaite.” you are perfect

—

his phone buzzes in his pocket, it hasn’t even been a full day since you landed in Paris and you’ve been buzzing him like a mad woman. it’s his first time being in your place alone, he’s in charge of watering your plants. he notices you’ve left him money for his croissants and an extra key in case he misplaces the one you already gave him.

“bonjour mon ami how is Paris?” he picks up the phone plopping down onto your cream colored sofa and pressing speaker so he can listen and eat.

“did you know j’ai un petit-ami is I have a boyfriend?! you lied to me!”

he laughs, the familiar sound spreads a smile on your face despite your angry tone, it’s nice to hear him. even if you’ve been texting him, his voice is what you miss right now, “I guess you’re right my people are assholes.”

“damn right, chalamet! and I learned a little something from the bartender last night, tu es un connard!” you are an asshole

“Je t'aime!”

[russellsppttemplates]

Thank uu againn If by any chance could you make a part 2 of Max' interview with Julia but with the reader's reaction?? Thank u again!!

"Y/N!", Gianpiero called, "watch the TV because your husband and your little girl are delighting everyone who is watching!".

Going up to one of the screens, you changed the channel until you saw Max and Julia, "she loves when he pretends to eat her fingers!", you giggled as you watched your husband make the 'nom nom nom' noises.

"She's such a cute little girl", Amy from the media team smiled, "and she's totally a papa's girl", she mused.

"Absolutely, but they're so cute I can't be bothered by it, honestly", you smiled, watching Julia press a kiss to her father's cheek, "just look at them!", you cooed.

By the time they were back, Julia was craving some mama time, stretching her arms so you could hold her, "mama, mama, mama!", she chanted.

"Did you have fun with papa in his interviews? You were so cute people didn't care much about what he had to say - you didn't let papa do his Maxplaining to uncle Charles, did you, sweet girl?", you tapped her nose.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[essycogany]

SonAmy Headcanons

Because why not.

This is how I personally see their relationship. I’ll try to keep it somewhat accurate to how they’d act canonically. I’d say where they are now is great, but I’d like to add a few things. Some of these may or may not be influenced by other amazing creators.

You are free to steal if you want.

Sonic and Amy mostly act like a couple in private areas or when they think no one is paying attention. They might tell a few of their friends, but often try to keep things discreet. Even if their overall relationship isn’t different in a third person’s perspective.

Tails: “You two sure you’re not still friends or are you actually together?”

Sonic And Amy: “Yes!”

Sonic’s the most chill and casual boyfriend and shows a good amount of affection. Amy is an overjoyed and loving girlfriend who shows a huge amount of affection.

Amy does her best to not tell most people about her and Sonic. Making an effort to call him her “best friend.” Sonic doesn’t mind it much, even saying it’s “not a big deal.” Leaving Amy confused.

Sonic tells whoever he feels like telling that Amy’s his girlfriend without thinking and thinks it’s funny when she’s shocked about it.

The hedgehogs are unsure of what normal couple standers are. They usually already know what works for them. Except who they should tell.

Sonic shows affection by kissing Amy on the hand and hugging her. When feeling extra, he carries her and takes her out on a run. Amy shows affection by constant cheek kissing, hugging, and ear rubbing. (which he pretends to not enjoy but does.)

Examples:

These and basically everything that happened between them recently are what I have in mind in terms of physical affection.

Instead of kissing they touch each other’s cheeks.

Sonic (being a casual boyfriend) puts his arm around Amy’s shoulder indistinctively in public.

Both hedgehogs forget how they got together. All they remember is it happening.

They enjoy having tea with Cream in order to hang out more. And to spend time with Cream of course.

Amy instantly starts cooking more food after Sonic finishes eating.

Sonic and Amy love gardening and cooking together after defeating Eggman.

Amy admires Sonic’s knowledge about plants, guitars, and books. Sonic admires Amy’s optimistic side whenever she geeks out about silly stuff.

Their brief arguments stems to worrying about one another or what cake tastes better.

Sonic’s favorite times with Amy are when he teases her and she chases after him.

Amy laughs at Sonic’s jokes. Even when they’re not funny.

They both find bungee-jumping romantic and relaxing.

Amy and Sonic plays with each other’s quills when they’re bored.

The best dates are when they’re on dangerous adventures. Sometimes dates aren’t fun when nothing crazy happens. On those days, they go find trouble to be satisfied. But normal dates can be cool if it means they get to travel together.

Amy mostly sends gifts on holidays and Sonic gives gifts when she doesn’t expect it.

Sonic only dresses up when Amy reminds him. Amy doesn’t mind if he forgets because she ends up buying him outfits. She even makes Sonic a red hoodie and he wears it a lot.

When apart for a long time, they write each other letters.

Sonic randomly comes over Amy’s place at any time of day without warning. She acts as if she doesn’t like it, but really enjoys the company of her boyfriend.

On movie nights, Amy and Sonic always forget how long Sonic stays and ends up sleeping on the couch together with one head on top of the other. The same thing happens when they go outside for a “short run,” and end up sleeping outside.

The blue blur’s way of saying “I love you” back to Amy is by using sign language or saying “right back at ya.” He’ll eventually start saying “I love you,” later on. Which surprises Amy to no end when he does it out of nowhere.

The romance Sonic and Amy have isn’t only romance, but an updated version of their friendship. The ability to still be their own people even when in different places. Sonic and Amy are a power couple whose love for adventure strengthens their love for each other. The hedgehogs are equally as happy as when they were close friends. That is what keeps them attached.

That’s a rap! This most likely will never happen, but I don’t mind. Them officially being friends with crushes on each other is stellar and I’m satisfied with it.

[rwrbficrecs]

Here's our October recs ❤️ also, look at our new banner !! 🥰 Happy reading !! I’m just too soft for all of it by @bellamysgriffinprincess (book/movie-verse)

@dot524: This is a sweet one shot where Henry is struggling with depression, Alex drops everything to be with him, and they comfort each other. Very well done.

Confidential Memorandum by @sherryvalli (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: this is such a sweet kidfic. Henry is Alex's boss, and Alex keeps getting calls from Henry's daughter when Henry is busy. It's heartwarming and comforting and the dialogue is wonderfully written, especially their love confessions.

@babiemonk: the perfect lighthearted kidfic! The child dynamic is perfect and the humor is spot-on. If you’re looking for a fun, feel good, story with some domestic fluffiness this is it.

@rmd-writes: a sweet, funny fic with excellent banter, and a stellar supporting cast of OCs. It quite literally made my face do this: 🥰 I saved it with the note "read when you need to feel better about the universe).

Aged Like a Fine Wine by @three-drink-amy (book-verse)

@babiemonk: Alex and Henry are older now and cakegate never happened. There’s lots of emotions and angst and growth and it’s really quite beautiful but also tragic at times. It hurt my heart and my feelings before putting them back together again.

In my dreams (In your dreams) by @lizzie-bennetdarcy (book-verse)

@babiemonk: very cute drunken love confessions— absolutely precious friends to lovers

all of our love filling all of our room by @kill8a (book-verse)

@inexplicablymine: this is so incredibly soft and childhood friends to lovers I have reread this more times than I’m willing to admit

Help Me Hold On To You by @affectionatelyrs (book-verse)

@read-and-write-: A one- shot, a very cathartic one about the aftermath of a fight between Alex and Henry. This is one to cry from beginning to end, it's beautifully written and you will be left speechless.

flatline by rizcriz (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: exes to lovers is one of my favourite tropes and this work shows perfectly how naturally and fully Henry and Alex love each other. it's sad and heartbreaking but it has a happy ending that makes the crying all worth it.

What I Need Tonight by @sparklepocalypse (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: This fic was written for Kinktober's prompt "selfcest", which for some might be sound a little too weird, but that's exactly why I picked this one as my monthly fave. If you like reading smut, give this a chance. Yes, it's hot but also emotional and it has Oxford-time slutty Henry!

heartbeats under coats by @hypnostheory (book-verse)

@heybuddy-drabbles: one of my favorite works to come out of FirstPrince week. It's really sweet and sexy. There was only one bed at its finest.

All Booked Up by @three-drink-amy (book-verse)

@heybuddy-drabbles: another FirstPrince week gem. This was just so beautiful. Alex and Henry meet during a vacation, spend three perfect days together and then loose contact until June and Nora force Alex to read a book they both love and something about it makes Alex think of Henry. I absolutely fell in love with it.

@rmd-writes: it's no secret that I'm an allmylovesatonce fan and this is one of my ultimate favourites of hers. A very cleverly told love story, with some wonderful June and Nora content as a bonus!

praying our bridges don’t make waves by @anincompletelist (book-verse)

@rhubarb1210: This fic is such a cool take on soulmates. Henry agrees to pretend to be Alex’s soulmate to get June health insurance. Lots of universe building. And I can’t give away more! Inspired by Fractured by @clottedcreamfudge

everything's growing in our garden by matherine (book-verse with a few movie elements)

@indomitable-love: Absolutely loved this hanahaki fic – the pacing and tension are so good, the relevance of all the different flowers is just beautiful

It's Nice to Have a Friend by @mainstreamelectricalparade (book-verse)

@read-and-write-: Childhood Best Friends to lovers AU, where Henry, the prince of england meets another boy during a holiday, they send each other letters and they fall in love, it's soft and it's beautiful, a love that tascends the page and is reflected on all the characters actions.

I feel the beating of your heart, I see the shadows on your face by @anincompletelist (book-verse)

@daisymae-12: This fic has such an interesting premise, and although I’ve never been into the bodyswap trope I’m so glad I gave this one a chance. It was done so incredibly well and was such a fun, wholesome fic.

Henry Fox, All-American Hero by @tintagel-or-cockleshells (book-verse)

@daisymae-12: This is a fic inspired by Meg Cabot’s All American Girl (which I am a huge fan of) and everything about this fic had me screaming in delight. Loved this so much, I’m obsessed.

maybe take me into your room by @smc-27 (book-verse)

@thesleepyskipper: Alex and Henry are both the children of ambassadors to Canada from their respective countries in this lovely AU. Friends-to-lovers perfection, this was so, so good.

a degree of fate by @softlofty (book/movie-verse)

@dot524: In this AU, Alex and Henry meet as university students. This is a sweet get-together fic with depth and heart.

It's Tradition by @f-ing-ruthless-baz (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: Alex and Henry's soulmate bond revealed itself publicly and now they have to act like they're in love, even though they hate each other. This fic is such an excellent use of soulmate trope and looks into so many possiblities in a world were soulmate bonds exsist. It's also super funny, a little angsty and Alex is even more oblivious than usually.

I’d be smart to walk away (but you’re quicksand) by @littlemisskittentoes (book/movie-verse)

@dot524: Such a wonderful, heartfelt 5+1 based on canon events when Henry walked away and one where he stayed.

Catalyst of Change by @uglygreenjacket (book-verse)

@myheartalivewrites: an AU that’s pretty close to canon in some ways: Alex (still a well known child of politicians) and Henry (still a prince) meet as students in Edinburgh. This story is sweet and gentle and heart wrenching at points, but also incredibly uplifting in Henry and Alex’s determination to be together no matter the obstacles. And the Scottish setting is gorgeous and really evocative.

Ghosted by @tintagel-or-cockleshells (book-verse)

@suseagull04: Twists and turns abound in this story that borders the line between life and death. I love the depth of the plot and just how deeply and quickly Alex and Henry fall for each other- and the fantasy aspect immediately put this high on my list of faves! Not to mention all the great references to my favorite things throughout the fic. This fic is amazing!

Such a Burden, This Flame on My Chest by @three-drink-amy (book-verse)

@heybuddy-drabbles: a 911 Lone Star!AU very angsty but with a happy ending. Alex going through grief felt really fucking relatable. It's also spicy in contrast with the angst.

But I love him, whether or no. by @leaves-of-laurelin (book-verse)

@dot524: This firefighter AU is one of my favorite RWRB fics ever, and I’m glad I was able to follow it from WIP status to complete this month. Alex as a firefighter is irresistible (Henry thinks so too) and somehow these two feel so true to character even in a completely different context. There are so many fun scenes here - riding a bull, an airport scene, shenanigans at a fire station, sentimental piano playing - but none of them are forced. Truly a wonderful fic that I know I’ll be returning to again and again.

@wilmonsfolklore: seconding this one so so so much!! read it in one sitting and have been thinking about it ever since then. there are so many heartfelt and sweet conversations in it. everyone's so true to their character in such a different situation. can not recommend it enough

[onlyonetifosi]

Behind the camera: chapter 1

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next ->

It was a warm summer afternoon in the small town of Monte Carlo, Monaco, where the Leclerc family resided. Yn and Charles, just three years old, were playing in their backyard, their laughter echoing through the air. Despite being twins, Yn and Charles had their distinct personalities and looks, yet they shared an unbreakable bond

"Charles, catch me if you can!" Yn giggled, running around the garden, her little feet barely keeping up with her enthusiasm

"Attends, Yn! I'm coming!" Charles called back, his eyes shining with excitement as he chased after his sister

Their playtime was always filled with joy and mischief, and today was no exception. Their older brother, Lorenzo, joined in the fun

"Lorenzo, regarde! Look at me!" Yn shouted as she tried to perform a somersault. "Je peux le faire! I can do it!"

Lorenzo clapped his hands, "Wow, Yn! That was great!"

Charles, feeling a little competitive, decided to show off too. "Watch this! Je vais faire un saut en hauteur! I'm going to do a high jump!"

Yn and Lorenzo watched in awe as Charles jumped, trying to touch the lowest branch of a nearby tree. He didn't quite reach it, but his attempt was still impressive.

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

In the following weeks, Yn attended her ballet classes with enthusiasm, and her love for dancing only grew. Charles, on the other hand, developed an interest in racing from a young age. Hervé, a racing enthusiast himself, couldn't be happier to see his son's passion for speed and cars. He gifted Charles a small toy race car, which quickly became his most treasured possession

"Maman, look what I can do!" Yn twirled around clumsily, trying her best to imitate the graceful movements she had seen on TV. Her parents smiled lovingly, encouraging her tiny attempt at ballet

"Très bien, ma chérie! You're doing great," her mother praised, clapping her hands. "You'll be a wonderful little ballerina!"

"Charles, you should try too!" Yn beamed, hoping her brother would join in her enthusiasm for ballet.

Charles laughed and shook his head. "No, no, Yn. I want to be a race car driver like Papa! Vroom vroom!" He pretended to steer an imaginary car, and Lorenzo enthusiastically joined in the play

Pascale and Hervé watched their daughter with pride, celebrating every little step she took in her ballet journey. However, Yn's clumsiness soon caught the attention of the other girls in her ballet class, who began to tease and make fun of her

"Regardez-la, elle danse comme un éléphant maladroit! (Look at her, she dances like a clumsy elephant!)" one of the girls mocked, causing the others to giggle.

Yn felt her enthusiasm waning, her heart heavy with sadness. She couldn't understand why the other girls were mean to her, but she was determined not to let their words discourage her.

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

As the twins grew older, they started kindergarten, and Yn was excited to embark on this new adventure with her brother. However, things didn't go as smoothly as she had hoped. Charles, being the more outgoing and confident of the two, quickly made friends with the other children, while Yn struggled to connect with her peers

One day, after a particularly challenging day at school, Yn came home feeling downcast. She sat at the kitchen table with her parents, sharing her feelings

"Maman, Papa, pourquoi est-ce que Charles a toujours des amis, et moi, je n'en ai pas?" (Mom, Dad, why does Charles always have friends, and I don't?) Yn asked tearfully

Her parents exchanged understanding glances, and her father pulled her into a comforting hug. "Ne t'inquiète pas, ma chérie. Les amis viendront avec le temps. Tu es spéciale, tout comme ton frère." (Don't worry, my dear. Friends will come with time. You're special, just like your brother)

Yn nodded, trying to hold back her tears. She wished she could be as confident and popular as Charles, but it seemed like an impossible task

Months passed, and Yn tried her best to keep her feelings buried, not wanting to upset her brother or their parents. But one day, the weight of it all became too much to bear. Unable to hold back any longer, Yn confronted Charles during their walk home from school

"Charles, tu ne comprends pas. C'est difficile pour moi. Les autres se moquent de moi et je n'ai pas d'amis" she finally confessed, her voice quivering with emotion. (Charles, you don't understand. It's hard for me. The others make fun of me, and I have no friends)

Charles stopped in his tracks, finally seeing the pain in his sister's eyes that he had been blind to for so long "Je suis désolé, Yn. Je ne savais pas) he said, feeling regretful (I'm sorry, Yn. I didn't know)

They sat down on a nearby bench, and Yn poured her heart out to Charles about the loneliness she had been enduring. Charles listened attentively, his heart aching for his sister. He realized how selfish he had been, caught up in his own excitement without noticing the pain she was going through.

"Je suis vraiment désolé, Yn. Je ne voulais pas te faire du mal. Je serai là pour toi, quoi qu'il arrive" Charles said, his eyes filled with sincerity. (I'm truly sorry, Yn. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll be there for you, no matter what happens)

Tears welled up in Yn's eyes as she hugged her brother tightly “Merci, Charles. Je t'aime” she whispered, feeling a rush of relief (Thank you, Charles. I love you)

From that day on, Charles made a conscious effort to include Yn in his circle of friends, and the two became inseparable. Yn also found solace in pursuing other hobbies and interests, such as drawing and storytelling, where her creativity and uniqueness were celebrated.

Their relationship grew stronger as they navigated through childhood together. Their parents often marveled at how inseparable they were, and even though they had their fair share of fights, their bond only deepened with time.

[mysterycitrus]

What was so horrendous about the Dick Grayson cop storyline? Is it just that it happened?

there are two foundational issues with officer dick grayson as a concept — the first is that dick grayson being a cop is a bad character choice, and the second is that chuck dixon unfortunately exists.

the latter is obvious — every single thing dixon touched in the nineties reflects his own turbo fascist politics. he’s so misogynistic he wrote both iconic queer men (connor hawke and tim drake) and devastatingly toxic yuri (babs and dinah) entirely by accident and has been angry about it ever since. thusly, dick being a cop wasn’t about dick himself, it was another explicit example of dixon’s belief that it isn’t the system that’s flawed, it’s simply flawed people in positions of power. it affirms his thin blue line, borderline authoritarian ideal of what society should be.

it’s a shame, because i think nightwing’s strength as a series is one with a large civilian supporting cast, and having dick opposing a corrupt commissioner is a good way of exploring that. think about amy and gannon and clancy — all interesting characters that help flesh out bludhaven as a city, making it stand out against gotham.

otherwise, u cannot convince me dick grayson would ever want or even consider being a cop. “dismantling the force from the inside” is not a practical, long term solution to corruption, and because dick isn’t an idiot he would know that. dick being a cop means he’s placidly involved in the crimes the bcpd commits, no matter how strongly he opposes them. additionally, the character beats are kinda boring — there’s only so much of dick pretending not to know too much and people being amazed by him that i can tolerate. that’s even ignoring that i don’t think he would, realistically, view the police force as a necessary good. consider his background, consider that unlike bruce he wasn’t born into wealth and power, consider that dick has always operated very low on the street level, within a community. he should not like cops.

ideally, if we wanted to rehash this plot, it could be fun for dick to do something like be an independent reporter instead of a recruit. it’d be a cute homage to clark, it’d give him an excuse to hang around a crime scene, and he could practise actual detective work and build trust with the people in his community. let him punch a cop!!!

[craftytomato]

I really liked your sonic AU from "phantom Rider" could you talk more about the AU if it's not a problem?

Sure thing! As long as you don't mind that I'm leaning into the Pretending to be Mind Controlled Idea instead of Actually Mind Controlled. Most of my ideas can work either way anyway.

(I wanna see how most of the actual arc plays out first in full before I go hard into my ideas but here's what I have so far based on the Phantom Rider's debut.)

The Idea:

Everything pretty much stays the same up until Surge uses her powers on Phantom Ryder, but instead she fully destabilizes his helmet and exposes Sonic to the world.

Everyone is shocked, scrambling to come up with an answer. Just before anyone can truly react, Eggman, who was watching from his base, gives a tired sigh because he had a feeling that something would go wrong. Now it was up to him to swoop in and keep their plan on track. He hacks into the jumbotron, scaring and/or confusing everyone.

"I see that my little present to this charity event has finally been unwrapped!"

He goes into a spiel about how he was interested in the event, 'hurt' that he didn't get an invite, and how he didn't appreciate the mockery to his likeness. So he decided to enter with a racer of his own with a little help from the dearly departed Starline.

Surge and Kit's blood runs cold. Eggman boasts that he had captured and mind controlled Sonic to be his champion racer. And now he was going to give this event some real challenge and excitement.

All eyes are now back on Sonic and he's torn right in half. He can't go along with this! He couldn't let Eggman scare everyone like this! But Tails and Amy needed the distraction. He had to stick to the plan, however derailed it was becoming. But-

"Some of you may be in disbelief that I was able to accomplish such a dastardly feat in such a short time. If you have any doubts, consider the alternative: my longtime nemesis willingly used my gear to disrupt a charity event? Doesn't sound like the blue rodent you've all come to sickeningly adore, now does it? No, of course not! Meaning that the only explanation is that Sonic is now my loyal minion whether he likes it or not!

Isn't that right, my Phantom Rider?"

Begrudgingly, Sonic makes his choice.

And he laughs. A hauntingly evil laugh that even impresses Eggman as it sends chills throughout the crowd.

"Glory to the Eggman Empire!"

Eggman cackles. "Enjoy your little race! I know I will!"

At that point, Sonic takes the chance to flee for the time being while everyone's distracted by Eggman.

Now the game has changed for everyone. The Diamond Cutters are torn. Lanolin and Duo want to stop the Phantom Rider at all costs while Tangle and Whisper are insisting on saving Sonic.

This also causes Clutch and Jewel to start to butt heads. Jewel wants to cancel the event for everyone's safety, but Clutch wants to carry it on. He gives reasons about how they'll have more security on standby for when the 'Phantom Ryder' makes another appearance and if they cancel the event then they're showing the world that they're scared of Eggman (in reality he just wants to use it to his advantage). Jewel pretends to buy it, but in her mind she's having other thoughts.

Surge and Kit are at a loss. Surge tries to play it off like Sonic deserves to know what it feels like to be in their place, but both her and Kit are being eaten up inside for multiple reasons. Surge wants to laugh and make fun of Sonic. This should be the perfect poetic justice for him in her eyes. But she can't and she hates that she can't!

Meanwhile Sonic is pretty sure that things can't get worse. Sure, Eggman saved the plan but now Sonic's essentially being blackmailed into following the mind controlled narrative.

Now what was supposed to be a simple plan gets more complicated by the minute as circumstances keep changing and more and more people are dragged into this mess.

And that's all I got so far

[dreamcubed]

back to black | regulus black x reader

song; back to black [amy winehouse] pairing; regulus black x fem!gryffindor!half-blood!reader genre; s2l, angst, hurt comfort word count; 6,3k timeline; marauders' era warnings; swearing, implied child abuse, discrimination (of muggles and muggle-borns), references to war, references to death(s) summary; autumn was your favourite season of all time, and not even your lack of mother or friendships could ruin it for you. but, maybe a brooding boy in your year could

this took me fucking forever but here it is!! and a merry christmas to all who celebrate <33

masterlist

"you went back to what you knew."

————————————

Back to black.

Well, technically, as the first time you had only had black hair for a matter of hours before your mother scolded you for dyeing it and made you change it back. But, she was dead now, and you were about to enter the year of OWL exams at Hogwarts, so a change was well overdue.

You gazed down at your black-stained hands: the muggle way of hair dyeing had been the most spiteful way to do it. After all, your mother hated anything muggle, even though she was merely half-blood herself. Part of you suspected it was because your father was a muggle and broke her heart, but you would never be able to confirm that, since you knew nothing about the man.

With a sigh, you glanced into the mirror and observed the wet black mess on your head. It was certainly going to stain your forehead and neck.

"Fuckin' Azkaban," you murmured, noticing the stains all over the sink and floor. Maybe you should have just done it the magic way.

Well, the stains were nothing a little magic couldn't fix: you didn't care that you weren't seventeen yet, after all.

***

Quite honestly, you adored the fact that school started in Autumn, your absolute favourite season. Nothing hit the spot like a Jack O'Lantern spice latte, fresh from the kitchens of Hogwarts. You had discovered the secret entrance to it a few years back, and come by to make requests frequently.

You tightly held the warm drink as you hurried back to the Gryffindor common room before curfew hit, where no friends were waiting for you. You had always felt out of place in the red house, and had never successfully made a friend in it, let alone the other houses. They all had their distinctive groups, while you were simply an outcast. Nonetheless, you did love how Autumnal the Gryffindor colour scheme was.

Ignoring everyone who was still downstairs, you headed up to the dormitories, where you sat down on your bed and chewed on your lip for a few moments. You weren't sure what to do with yourself.

***

Regulus Black was the quiet and brooding boy in your potions, defence against the dark arts, transfiguration - and actually every class apart from divination. That didn't surprise you, as even though you had never spoken to him, he didn't strike you as a particularly spiritual man. All you really knew about him was that his older brother, the renowned Sirius Black, was in your house - and they did not get along.

He was the only person who you shared so many classes with, and that was the solitary reason that you had noticed him. Well, that and his strikingly powerful presence.

You wondered if he realised you shared so many classes together.

Probably not, though. To make up for your lack of friendships, you intensely observed the people around you, trying to pretend as if you knew them and could predict how a conversation would go with them. It was a fun game for someone so deprived as yourself, even more so when you somehow ended up in conversation with someone and got to find out how accurate in your predictions you were.

But you also loved when you were completely wrong about a person.

"A new hair colour, I see, Miss L/N," Professor McGonagall said to you as you entered the first transfiguration lesson of the year.

You nodded, "Felt I needed a change."

The witch gave you a pitiful look that made you sick to your stomach: you hated the fact that people felt the need to tread on egg shells around you because of your mother's death. You weren't upset about it - you hated the woman.

"Black suits you," she said simply, the very same second Regulus Black entered the room.

He looked up, clearly thinking his name had been called.

"Not you, Mr Black," McGonagall waved her hand dismissively, "I was referring to Miss L/N's new hair colour."

For the first time ever, you were pretty sure, Regulus Black looked in your direction and made eye contact with you. His cold grey eyes pierced through you, as if he suddenly knew every secret about you - which he didn't, you had read about legilimency and it didn't feel like that. Just as quickly as he looked at you, he looked away again, and took a seat at the back of the classroom.

You felt a shiver run up your spine - an itching, chilly sensation, that made you feel positively thrilled.

"Everyone, please take your seats," McGonagall said as the class filled up.

You looked around, noticing a few empty spots, but most prominently the space next to Regulus Black at the back of the room. Your feet were taking you towards it before your mind could kick into action, and even though you were convinced that he was glaring at you, you kept your eyes trained on to the professor as you sat down.

"This year in transfiguration, we will cover..."

McGonagall's voice faded into background noise as you became hyper aware of the boy's presence next you, whilst simultaneously doing everything in your power to make it seem like your attention was not on him but instead the lesson.

What had become of you?

***

Smudged eyeliner and a maroon knitted jumper, cold peppermint tea and torn parchment; your mind felt frantic yet empty, gazing out the window of the Gryffindor common room. Starless nights and rain against glass, blazing fire and crackling flames; you couldn't see anything outside, so you couldn't quite piece together why your eyes remained fixed on the blackness.

A sigh pushed through your lips, picking up the tea to take a sip - only for it to go down reluctantly, due to its chilly temperature. Had it really been that long since you zoned out?

Another sigh escaped you as you rose to your feet. You were the only person who remained in the Gryffindor common room, so you estimated that it was at least midnight. Definitely way too late to venture into the rest of the castle: if you cared about punishment, that was.

Pulling out your wand from your dark-washed jeans, you pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and muttered a soft, "Lumos," into the corridor. You anticipated the scream of the painted woman asking where you were headed at such an hour, but at the lack of you turned around and saw that she was presently vacated from her usual spot. Hopefully she would have returned by the time you got back.

You knew the way to the kitchens like the back of your hand, but you rarely took it so late, way past curfew. You were, of course, cautious. It would be insane not to be in an enchanted castle such as Hogwarts, which also happened to be haunted.

Your gut sensed another presence before any of your typical five senses did: lurching as it indicated that you were not alone. You quickly whispered, "Nox," and ducked into an alcove, focusing all your energy into your sense of hearing. Delicate - very delicate - footsteps. So faint you almost thought that you were hallucinating.

They stopped right by you, and you heard a soft breath.

Why did it sound so achingly familiar, yet not like any professor's?

"Who's there?"

Regulus Black.

You stepped out from the alcove and into the light of his wand, crossing your arms in the process. Regulus took one look at you and sighed.

"What do you want, Gryffindor?"

"I have a name," you muttered, "And I would like to think you know it."

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you scowled.

"I want nothing from you, Black, I merely thought you were a teacher."

He seemed to mull over your words for a few seconds, ultimately deciding that there was no way it was anything but the truth before saying, "Very well."

The question itched on your tongue. "What are you doing?"

In the dimmed light, you could only just make out the way he pressed his tongue into his cheek, a bit more aggressively than you would hope for.

"That's none of your concern."

You narrowed your eyes, "I'm pretty sure the last time someone said that, a girl ended up dead in the toilets."

"You-" Regulus cut himself off at the sound of loud, purposeful footsteps echoing down the hallway. He muttered, "Shit," before dimming his wand light and pulling you back into the alcove with him.

You held your breath as the footsteps increased in volume, almost unaware of your hand pressed against Regulus' abdomen, and his arm wrapped around your waist.

"Are you sure he was headed this way, Mrs Norris?" the unfortunate voice of Filch asked, followed by a scratchy meow.

You pursed your lips as the footsteps got quieter, only letting yourself breathe once there was complete silence again. Still, you and Regulus remained in position for a few more seconds.

"I think the coast is clear," you murmured.

"Hm? Oh, yeah," Regulus replied distractedly, slipping out of the alcove and letting his arm drop from your waist. You hadn't noticed the warmth that much, but you definitely noticed the lack of it.

"Guess Filch is on to you," you said, to fill the silence more than anything else - which was weird, as you had never been bothered by lack of conversation before.

"Bastard," Regulus replied. Maybe it wasn't a reply, but an unrelated yet relevant comment.

You lit your wand again, and turned to continue on your journey, "I'm going to the kitchens, in case you were wondering," you had hoped it would prompt him to admit to his activities, but he simply remained silent, "You can come if you want."

You had no explanation for adding that last part.

It was obvious that Regulus' first instinct had been to say no, but he must have come to the conclusion that there was really nowhere else to go while Filch was headed off on a rampage towards his original destination. So, he sighed instead, and began trailing behind you towards the fruit bowl portrait.

"Peppermint tea, Miss L/N?" the house elf nearest to you asked after you entered the magnificent kitchens, which were remarkably similar to the Great Hall.

"Actually, I think I'll take a hot chocolate, thank you," you replied, sitting down at the end of one of the four long tables. It was too late for your preferred latte, after all.

"And you, Mr Black?" another house elf asked.

It was evident that Regulus was startled that the creature knew his name, "Americano. Black, no sugar."

You weren't surprised at his request.

"Do you have a house elf?" you asked, as you knew that the Black family was pure-blooded and wealthy.

He gave a curt nod, which you took as a hint that he wasn't interested in conversation. Luckily, the house elves quickly whipped up the hot drinks and placed them in two forest green mugs in front of you.

To your surprise, he asked a question.

"How do you know about this place?"

You shrugged, "I followed the Marauders here one night."

Regulus drew back, and you realised then what a mistake mentioning the infamous quartet was: Sirius Black was clearly a sour topic.

Regardless, you still mumbled, "I think they knew I was there."

He chuckled dryly, "Probably."

"How are you gonna sleep?" you changed the subject, gesturing towards his steaming coffee.

"I won't."

You didn't press that matter further, either. But it was then that you noticed the dark circles under his eyes, sallow and zombie-like. Yet they suited him, enhanced his eery yet attractive looks, which was probably why you hadn't registered them before. They didn't appear out of place.

"Why don't you have a red mug?" Regulus asked, taking you by surprise. He was gazing at the wall display of mugs, sorted into the four house colours.

"Miss L/N doesn't like the red mugs," a house elf piped up, placing a tray of cookies in between the two of you.

"But it's your house colour."

You sipped slowly on your hot chocolate, stewing over the words you could potentially say. "I... don't like being a Gryffindor. I've never felt like I belonged."

"I don't like Gryffindors."

You scoffed, "Never would've guessed."

He raised an eyebrow.

"All Slytherins hate us."

"Yeah, because you're Dumbledore's favourite."

You shrugged.

"That and you allow mudbloods."

You paused in your movements, "So do Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, yet you don't go on a rampage against them."

"Point taken."

The school hot chocolate was delicious, you decided, and you should really have it more.

"What's your blood status?"

You shrugged, "Half-blood."

"I'm-"

"Pure-blood, I know," you sighed, "Even if the Black family weren't a so-called noble house, I would've guessed from your comments earlier."

He stared at you: a piercing, icy glare that almost made a shiver run up your spine. Almost.

"Do you really enjoy leading such a hateful life?"

His mouth parted, before he carefully swallowed and avoided eye contact, "It's not about hatred, it's about what's right."

"And what's right is abusing muggle-borns, even though they were born wizards and witches just like us?"

Regulus said nothing.

"I think that you need to stop taking Mummy and Daddy's word for what it is," you said mockingly, "You have your own brain, form your own opinions with it."

You watched his jaw clench.

"With that, I will bid you adieu," you said, picking up your hot chocolate and a few cookies, "See you tomorrow."

He didn't say goodbye to you as you left, and you didn't wait for him to.

***

Regulus watched you as you entered transfiguration the next day: you felt it before you saw his eyes glued on to you. You ignored his attentions, still sitting next to him but making no effort to engage in conversation. He made no effort either, eventually peeling his eyes away from you when McGonagall arrived to begin the lesson.

In fact, no words were exchanged between the two of you until the very end of the hour.

"I think you're wrong," he muttered.

You looked down at your parchment, furrowing your eyebrows at the answer that you were pretty sure was correct. "It's not animagi?"

"Not about that," he clarified, "About mudbloods."

You exhaled sharply through your nose.

"They aren't worthy."

"You're insufferable," you said quietly, "The existence of muggle-borns doesn't affect you, leave them alone."

"It affects the culture of wizards and witches, which affects me."

"Maybe the culture needs changing," you spat back, "Godric knows you do."

Regulus didn't reply, and you made no further attempt to talk to him.

Not for the rest of your time at Hogwarts.

***

APPROXIMATELY THREE YEARS LATER: 1979.

***

"I can't seem to face up to the facts..." you sung quietly along to the song as you gazed into the mirror of your bathroom.

"I'm tense and nervous and I can't relax..." it was playing from your record player in your bedroom, just through the open door to your right. Your graduation gift (to yourself) had been a record player, a very pleasant addition to the house that you had inherited from your mother. Especially as she hated all muggle items.

"I can't sleep 'cause my bed's on fire..." It was only three bedrooms, the third being so small it could hardly fit a twin bed in, but the master bedroom was decently sized and had an en suite. And, officially being the master of the house, that bedroom was now yours.

"Don't touch me, I'm a real live wire..." You were dyeing your hair black for the third time in your life.

After dyeing it before fifth year, you had maintained the roots up until Christmas before you went back to your natural colour, and had remained that way up until now. But, you decided that you wanted your raven locks back, and so had stopped by a muggle pharmacy for some black hair dye. There was something therapeutic in doing it manually.

"Psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est?" you continued to mumble, finishing up the touches of your hair, just when you heard a heavy knock on your door.

You stilled: nobody came knocking on your door. Your solitary existence remained very solitary.

Grabbing your wand off the counter, you moved into your bedroom and delicately removed the needle from the vinyl, before silently padding downstairs. You crept up to the maroon door and peered through the peephole, fully prepared to yell "stupefy" should you require.

It was the last person you expected - and considering you expected no one, that really said something.

Despite recognising the individual, you were hesitant to open the door, as you knew that said person was a renowned death eater: one of the Dark Lord's loyal followers.

"L/N, please, I know you're there," he croaked, his voice ragged and scratched.

Against your better judgement, you opened the door, only to catch sight of his ripped clothes and dripping wounds. There were bags under his eyes and his hair was longer and messy, and you had absolutely no idea what to do.

"Please, I didn't know where else to go."

You sighed, lowering your wand and stepping back to open the door wide. Godric knows that you would go to hell for helping a death eater like this.

"What happened to you?" you murmured, leading him through to your small galley kitchen. You dug through your cupboards until you found your first aid kit, and then grabbed a flannel and ran it under the hot tap.

Regulus watched you silently.

"Take off your clothes," you muttered, then added, "Except your underwear."

He obliged, and your breath hitched at the gory visuals in front of you.

"Fuckin' Azkaban."

You began cleaning him up, applying a healing potion as you went.

"I should've listened to you."

"Hm?"

"What you said about mud- muggle-borns," his eyes crinkled together, "You-Know-Who- he's... he's..."

"Batshit?" you raised an eyebrow, noting how Regulus avoided his name.

A scratched chuckle came out his throat, "Yeah."

"Did you challenge him to a duel or something?" you asked as you paused your care of him to fetch a glass of water for his throat.

"I'd be dead if I'd done that - no, I've been trying to find his Horcruxes."

"His what?"

Regulus gulped down all of the water before he replied. "There's a reason he's so fearless."

And then came his explanation and story, of how he found out about Voldemort's secret of immortality after realising that he was in the wrong, and had begun hunting down the pieces of his soul in order to destroy him for good. That led on to his explanation of how he ended up in the state he was currently in.

"The locket," he explained, "I went with Kreacher - my house elf - to this cave. I had to drink water that dehydrates you to get to the locket, and the only other water around was in this lake kind of thing. But, of course, it wasn't a normal lake. It was full of inferni."

You mindlessly continued tending to his wounds as you took all of this in.

"They started clawing at me and dragging me in - so I ordered Kreacher to leave with the locket, thinking I wouldn't survive," his voice faltered as he relived the memory, "I don't even know how I did - it's all a blur. But I couldn't go back home, or anywhere I normally go. You-Know-Who knows by now."

"So you came here?" you finally spoke.

"I- yes."

"Even though we hardly know each other."

He stared at you with darkened sorrow in his eyes, and you realised that this was far from the Regulus you knew in Hogwarts.

You sighed, pulling away from him as you finished up with the last of the injuries.

"You're the first person that came to mind," he murmured.

Your eyes flicked to the snake twisting on Regulus' wrist, the permanent sign of devotion to the Dark Lord.

"He's trying to reach me," he muttered, "Is your house well protected?"

You shook your head, "There's no reason they'd come here."

Regulus cursed under his breath, "I'm really sorry to put you in danger, please let me put some protective charms around the place."

You gestured for him to be your guest.

"Am I-"

"Yes, you can stay," you replied. You wouldn't have let him through your door if you hadn't seen the difference in his once cold eyes.

He said nothing, but gave you a look that screamed his thanks as he left through your kitchen door.

***

"He might think you're dead, you know," you said as he came back inside, while you were in the process of laying the table. He had been outside for so long that you had washed out the hair dye from your hair, which was now wet and a bit of a mess.

He didn't reply, so you looked up at his skinny and fatigued figure.

"He probably doesn't think anyone can escape his protective measures."

"Can't take any chances," he eventually murmured, taking a seat, "Thank you for the food."

You gave a small smile, sitting down opposite him. The two of you ate in a companionable silence until Regulus finally said something.

"I won't be here long. I have to continue my search."

You scowled, "No."

He paused, arching an eyebrow, "No?"

"You're in no state to do anything, Black," you said simply, "You'd be fucking useless out there right now."

You watched as Regulus digested your words, "But I can't do nothing."

You shrugged, "You haven't done nothing. I have."

"Yes, but you don't have mistakes to make up for."

The conversation once again flattened to nothing, the odd hint of tension in the air weighing down ever so slightly.

"Why did you do it the muggle way?"

"Hm?"

"Your hair."

"Oh," your eyes widened as you thought carefully, "Mainly to spite my mother."

He tilted his head in confusion.

"She wasn't a very nice woman," you explained, "Shit mother, and she also hated anything muggle. She's dead now, but I do a lot of muggle things to remind myself I'm nothing like her."

"Did she hate muggle-borns?"

You pursed your lips, "Not really, I don't think. Depends how muggle they acted. I've always theorised that my dad was a muggle and broke her heart."

"My parents were awful," Regulus murmured, "When Sirius got sorted into Gryffindor, they gave up on him. But in a way that also made things worse for me, because I was their last chance at the perfect Black heir."

You nodded.

"That's why I resent him so much."

"Maybe one day you two can get along."

He chuckled dryly, "When muggles can do magic."

***

The once sallowed dark aura around Regulus Black had morphed since Hogwarts. It wasn't brighter, that was for sure, you would describe it as a cloudy navy blue - rainy, but not thunderous. Something about him had been replaced and changed, something hard and uncaring, now softer and sympathetic. It wasn't until you were laying in your bed that night with the wind blowing against your window did you realise exactly what it was - he had been traumatised, and thus matured.

Guilt also crept into you from your darkest corners: you had stayed out of the brewing conflict from the death eaters, even though you disagreed with their values. Your cowardice had led you to self-isolate and refuse to fight, bathing in the safety of your half-blood status. Regulus Black showing up on your doorstep was karma if nothing else.

You pulled your maroon quilt further over you and nestled your head into your pillows, trying to crush the lingering sense that your life was only just beginning.

***

The whistle from your kettle blew, filling the kitchen with steam. You let out a yawn as you entered through the archway, and almost jumped when you saw Regulus stood there with two mugs before him. Living alone had been your situation for far too long.

"Good morning," he spoke, but by the strangled way he said it, it was clear that those two words had never left his mouth before, at least not as a pair.

"Morning," you raised an eyebrow, watching as he wandlessly guided the kettle through the air to pour water.

"Milk? Sugar?" he said in question.

"Milk, two sugars."

He hummed in reply, the black shirt that you had lent him clinging to his lean figure. He was skinnier than he should be, that much was obvious, but there was still muscle definition that made your stomach swarm with butterflies. You knew that you had fancied him briefly back in Hogwarts, but you had squandered those feelings when you learned of his political views.

Now he was a changed man, and he was even more attractive than he used to be, and it felt like every butterfly you had crushed had been resurrected all at once. It was overwhelming, and yet the most satisfying experience you had been a part of since the beginning of your dull adulthood.

"Here," he handed you a golden-yellow mug, "I hope it's to your satisfaction."

"Only time will tell," you replied, moving through to the living room.

You sat in a companionable quiet for a while, sipping on your tea and soaking in the ambiance of the morning.

It was when there was almost no liquid left in your mug, and your limbs were growing fidgety, that you felt words race out your mouth before you could think about them. A rushed, perhaps crossing-the-line, statement of, "Stay for a while."

You didn't know whether you meant hours or months.

***

Regulus took a turn for the worse the next day, overcome with vicious fever-like symptoms and ugly coughing fits. The mid-war conditions that you were in made it way too risky to seek professional help, especially as Regulus was a wanted death eater. So, you had no choice but to take care of him to the best of your ability: between herbal teas, homemade soups, leftover cough medicines and cold cloths pressed to his forehead, he seemed to be slowly improving. At least, he wasn't getting worse. But his body was already weakened, so his chances were worse than an average person dealing with whatever he was.

With your hair tied and sleeves pulled up, you ran the white flannel you had been using for Regulus under the cold tap, letting out an exhausted exhale. It had been approximately sixty hours since your guest was bedridden, and you had hardly slept in that time. It was quite difficult to when he would start screaming in the middle of the night during his fever dream episodes.

The pale moonlight slipped through the gaps in your vertical slit blinds, gently illuminating the white china of your bathroom sink, and probably the bags under your eyes as well. Just as you turned off the tap, you heard more screaming from your guest bedroom, so you quickly wrung out the flannel and ran back to Regulus.

"You're okay, you're okay," you murmured, pressing the cloth to his forehead, "You're safe."

His screaming stopped, and you could've sworn his eyes were slightly opened and staring at you through the darkness. "Y/N," he mumbled.

"Yes, Regulus, it's me, Y/N."

You felt his hand grip around the wrist of your hand that held the flannel in place.

"Don't leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere," you spoke gently.

"In sickness and in health..." he muttered, making you chuckle slightly.

Not forgetting the butterflies, of course.

"Yes, Regulus, in sickness and in health."

"You're... amazing..." he sighed, drifting off again into a lax slumber, his hand falling from your wrist.

You softly stroked his cheek, "Get well soon."

***

You had lost track of the days, but you knew that many suns had set and risen by the time Regulus stumbled downstairs one morning, shirtless and still evidently delirious.

"Good morning," you said, observing the man fumbling to sit down in a chair, "Would you like a cup of tea?"

He grunted.

"Feeling better then?" you asked, moving through the archway into the kitchen and setting out two mugs on the counter.

Regulus raked his hands through his hair, grunting again.

"At least you're conscious," you said half to yourself, half to him.

"Date," he said in a scratchy voice, locking his shiny eyes on to yours.

"What's the date?"

He nodded.

You gazed over at the calendar on your wall, only to realise you hadn't been crossing off the days like you typically did ever since Regulus had fallen ill. Sheepishly, you shrugged, "I don't know."

Regulus sighed.

"Sorry, I've hardly slept."

He shook his head, "Don't apologise, it's not your fault."

You didn't bother refuting that. "On the bright side, I know it's been a good few days. I think You-Know-Who would've found you by now if he was looking for you," you said, adding a, "Touch wood," and touching one of your wooden cabinets afterward.

Regulus seemed to ponder that for a moment, "I guess. Thank you for taking care of me."

"I didn't really have a choice," you replied, placing a mug of steamy tea in front of him, "But I'd do it again."

He smiled at you - a tired, but genuine, smile.

"I need to take a long shower, if you don't mind," you sighed, holding your own warm mug, "I feel gross."

"Yeah, you kinda look it."

You went to whack him, "You're one to talk."

He started laughing, which quickly turned into a coughing fit.

"Whoa, whoa, be careful," you said through laughter, "Your lungs can't take much right now."

"I'm fine," he said through splutters, "I swear."

"You should shower after me," you said when he had calmed down, "In the nicest possible way, you need it."

He didn't argue.

***

Rain pounding against the window seemed almost symbolic of the state of the wizarding world as it was: pathetic fallacy, if you will. But, you must admit, your cowardly approach to the war had led you to lead quite a cosy lifestyle in your little cottage, tucked up by fires with hot cups of tea.

At times, you considered joining the resistance, and fighting for what was right. Realistically, though, you couldn't contribute much. Your duelling skills had always been subpar and despite your alleged Gryffindor identity, you lacked courage. Surely the Sorting Hat had made a mistake all those years ago, back when you were a nervous eleven-year-old stood in front of an audience full of older kids.

Never the matter - the past was the past, and as you didn't possess a timeturner, it would have to remain the way it was.

"Something doesn't feel right," Regulus' voice made you jump out of your skin.

Ignoring your surprise, he sat next to you on the sofa.

"You don't think?"

"No," he shook his head. It had been a couple months since he showed up at your door, and these days he came and went from your home. He was currently in search of his brother, Sirius, who he knew to be a part of the resistance. Regulus had explained to you how even though they had never gotten along, he would be more likely to listen to anything he had to say than other resistance members, who would probably arrest him on the spot.

You had crafted a port key for him - something that you were in fact good at - to access your house without revealing your location. This had led to him frequently jump scaring you by appearing in your living room out of nowhere, especially since he never showed up at the same time.

"Any news on Sirius?"

Regulus shook his head, leaning back into the plush pillows, "He's as good at hiding as I am."

"At least you have something in common."

He chuckled dryly, "I just can't escape the feeling that something is brewing tonight."

"Bad or good?" you furrowed your eyebrows, but secretly you knew what he meant. A new paranoia had been itching at you all day.

Regulus shrugged, "Both. Neither. Who knows?"

You followed his gaze to the thundering sky through the window.

"What day is it?" he asked.

You thought for a moment, "Halloween."

A thunderous boom echoed outside.

Regulus grimaced, "I'll source a newspaper tomorrow. Need to find out if I'm just being paranoid."

It was right then at that moment, as lightning flashed in the sky and lit up the whole room, that you knew he wasn't just being paranoid. A historical moment was taking place as you spoke: tragic, yet hopeful.

You felt a head drop on to your shoulder, and looked down in surprise to see that Regulus had drifted off quite peacefully next to you. Smiling to yourself, you adjusted your position so he could lie on you, unable to stop yourself from indulging in affection that filled your starving appetite for touch. He nuzzled his head into you, making a light and happy sound.

Sighing softly, you let your eyes drift shut.

***

He was gone when you woke up, as often was the case. While he slept at yours almost every night, he was prone to getting back late and leaving early, desperately searching for his elder brother.

Therefore, it was quite a surprise to see him burst through the dining room door at eleven o'clock in the morning, while you were frying eggs.

"Y/N," he said breathlessly as he approached the kitchen archway, a rolled newspaper crushed in one of his hands.

"What?"

"He's gone," he said, and if it wasn't for the smile on his face, you would have thought he was talking about his brother.

You barely had time to put the frying pan down before he continued.

"You-Know-Who," he said, throwing the paper on your kitchen counter, "They're saying he's dead - but I don't believe that - either way he's gone."

You moved to look at the newspaper of moving images and writing.

"He killed James and Lily Potter," he explained, "They were friends of my brother, but apparently he couldn't kill their son. Their one-year-old son."

Eyebrows furrowed, you ran your finger over the front page.

"I hope to Merlin that he never returns, wherever he is."

You chuckled.

"Salazar, I'm so happy I could kiss you," he said quite suddenly, making your head snap up.

Silence lingered between the two of you as you stared at each other with widened eyes, becoming hyper aware of your breathing. Then, his lips were on yours, and while it was a chaste kiss, it was passionate and intimate.

When you parted, Regulus rested his forehead against yours and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you flush against him.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he panted.

"Me too."

***

The second time you were gathered around a newspaper together was not too long later, after the arrest of Sirius Black for the murder of Peter Pettigrew and being a suspected death eater.

"At least you managed to find and talk to him before this."

Regulus sighed, "Yeah. I guess."

You said nothing.

"He was the only one who could vouch for me. I can never earn people's trust now."

"I think you'll just need to stay on the down-low."

Regulus sighed again, taking your hand into his, "Can I stay here for that long?"

You chuckled, pulling him into your embrace, "You can stay here forever."

He smiled, kissing your head.

***

APPROXIMATELY SEVENTEEN YEARS LATER: 1998.

***

"The verdict of the state versus Regulus Black is as follows..." the judge sat in the courtroom at the Ministry of Magic announced, making your breath hitch as you crossed your fingers behind your back.

You locked eyes with your long-time fiancé who was stood in the centre of the room within a mini-cell, and saw the way his Adam's apple moved in a gulp.

"Regulus Black is found guilty of serving You-Know-Who and the anti-muggle-born terrorist movement..."

You threw your hand over your mouth, tears pricking at your eyes.

"...but is hereby pardoned from punishment due to his immense aid in defeating You-Know-Who thereafter."

Never had such a large amount of air rushed out of your lungs, as your son hugged you from the side, likely not understanding the words the judge used, but understanding the look of elation on his father's face.

You didn't stop Sirius from detaching from your side and running down to the cell as they unlocked it: in fact, you ran after him, eager to hold your fiancé in your arms. You watched as Regulus picked up his son and hugged him tightly, before dropping him to take you into his arms.

Pecking his lips, you beamed up at him with joyful tears streaming down your cheeks.

"We can finally get married," he said, kissing you again.

You giggled, "Hopefully before my bump gets too big."

Regulus' eyes widened as he moved his hand to your abdomen, his smile somehow growing even wider than it was before.

"I love you," he said breathlessly.

——————————————

masterlist

written; 02/10/2023 —> 20/12/2023 published; 21/12/2023 edited; —/—/——

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

It's Who We Have | Part Ten

Summary: the group reconvenes six months later, setting out to remind both of them what family they have in them | Word Count: 3k~ | Warnings: mentions of PTSD, smut

General Taglist | Billy Washington Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The crisp morning air of Castleton felt chilly against their cheeks, the lush greenery of the Peak District stretching out before them. Billy adjusted his overcoat, falling into step beside her, their hands brushing as they traversed the rugged terrain. There was a sense of gentle peace in the air, a warmth that radiated despite the weather, a welcome respite from the once chaotic routine of their lives just six months before.

In the time since Cranstead Fields, winter had come and gone in a pleasant haze of dark nights and a Christmas spent at Billy's parents, with a somewhat hungover trip to Abi and Libby's with the friend group on Boxing Day. 

Navigating their way through the aftermath of the indescribable trauma was exhausting. Nightmares haunted Billy at night, but not in the sense he was sat bolt upright, sweating and scared, but in the sense that he barely slept in fear of them.

But he was slowly learning to cope, with her unwavering support.

The way she coped with PTSD was a journey of its own, one that unfolded differently from Billy's. While his nights were often plagued by restless sleep and lingering fears, hers were marked by moments of quiet introspection and occasional bouts of anxiety.

It wasn't easy, and there were still moments of struggle and doubt. But met with steadfast determination and a desire to remain committed wholeheartedly to each other.

In the end, it was she who moved in with him. Her flat had always felt empty, with no real desire to return when her Dad stood on her doorstep in that fateful July. And while Billy's flat was in no way perfect, it felt like home in a way that her own place never had. The walls may have been a bit too bare, the furniture a mishmash of hand-me-downs and charity shop finds, but it wasn't just the physical space that they shared, but also their hopes, dreams, and fears. It was theirs.

In any case, it was nice to finally get away from the hustle and bustle of London, even if they were being pelted by rain and chilled to the bone from the cold, their hands were still warm with the pleasant thrum of their hearts. 

Harry’s voice broke through it, “Is it actually the Devil's arse? Cos if it's not then what's the fucking point?”, shortly followed by a raucous laughter, an echo of Libby, Ami, Abi and Harry, who followed shortly behind. 

Ami in particular struggled with the rough terrain of the Peak District after her Year Abroad in the concrete laden Beijing. Abi didn’t waste a second making fun of her though, claiming ‘it was his job to as both her twin and older brother’.

Paddy laughed and took Harry’s face in his broad, calloused hands, “Harry I fucking love you, but you’re thick as pig shit.” His words displayed both banter and deep affection, punctuated with a big, sloppy kiss that pulled Harry off balance.

Everyone chuckled, watching Harry regain his composure and forcing the rapidly emerging colour to his cheeks, “Jesus Christ, Pad…that was fucking foul.”

“Yeah that one had a bit of flavour to it, didn’t it.”

“Did you lot see that?! Pad may as well have spat in my mouth!”

Ami, as short and harmless as she appeared, managed to once again knock him off balance as she shoved his shoulder walking past him, following behind everyone else as they trudged up the grassy hill, “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it, Hazza.”

As they continued their trek through the rugged beauty of the Peak District, the air filled with laughter and playful banter. Despite the rain pelting down on them and the chill in the air, their spirits remained high, buoyed by the warmth of their deep friendship. The green stretched far into the distance and despite the women’s hair being held in tact in high ponytails, it still whipped across their bright, flushed faces with the flashes of laughter and the wind cold on the tip of their noses. 

She, Libby and Ami led the way, their easy chatter filling the air as they reminisced about past adventures and shared inside jokes, as well as the occasional gasp as Ami relayed her experiences on her Year Abroad, and how she never once bought an alcoholic beverage for herself in all her time there. Occasionally Abi was not far behind her, as if not wanting to admit that he was happy she was back, exchanging playful jabs and teasing insults, their bond as siblings evident in their behaviour.

Meanwhile, Harry, Paddy and Billy brought up the rear, their conversation a mixture of lighthearted jokes and heartfelt confessions of slight vulnerability under their facade of boyish banter. Paddy, always the joker, regaled Billy with tales of their past escapades, while Billy, more reserved but no less engaged, listened intently, a smile playing at the corners of his lips, raising the odd eyebrow at the way the two other men seemed very close, with lingered glances. 

Billy and her being official for a good while now strangely affected the friend group very little. Despite the events at Cranstead and the trauma they had endured, their friendship group remained a source of comfort and stability. They didn't cling to each other out of fear, but rather revelled in the freedom and carefree spirit that had always defined their dynamic.

Weirdly, it was like it had always been like this. Maybe it had been.

It didn’t stop Billy from stealing glances at her though. For some reason, seeing her so happy again with everybody made his heart feel so full it almost hurt. For some time after, every time he saw her anxiety-struck face, he was bought back to glancing over at her in the passenger seat that hot July day, with moist eyes and a panicked rhythm of her breathing.

It was slowly getting hazier. Replaced with, more often than not, her expression of softened happiness at her existence in this world beside him.

Interestingly, it was Billy’s parents who were the most taken aback by their relationship turning official. They had always seen her as just another member of Billy's sprawling group of friends, almost like a daughter, someone they cared for deeply and looked after, but never envisioned her actually becoming part of their family. Their surprise, however, soon gave way to a supportive acceptance, touched by the genuine affection they witnessed.

It was Jeff who had been most surprised. And they both guessed it was because of the way he was so blasé about everything else in his life, that he had barely paid much attention in the first place.

Lana had put him in his place though, with a smack to the arm, “Wake up, Sherlock, I called it ages ago!” Her tone was teasing, a spark of banter lighting up her eyes as she chided him for his cluelessness.

During breaks in their hike, the friend group often found themselves in candid conversations, sharing their experiences and struggles in coping with the aftermath of Cranstead Fields. Billy and her were the focal points of their collective support, with their friends offering unwavering encouragement and empathy as they navigated the challenges of therapy and healing.

Even amidst the laughter and banter, there was an unspoken understanding among the friends that Billy and her were still healing, still grappling with the scars left behind by their shared trauma. But in all of it, they were always there.

As they reached a clearing, Harry and Paddy took charge of gathering wood for a makeshift fire pit, while Libby and Ami spread out blankets and cushions for everyone to sit on.

Once everything was set up, Paddy pulled out his flask of whiskey with a mischievous grin. "Anyone fancy a little something to warm the bones?" he asked, holding up the flask for all to see.

Harry eagerly reached for it, taking a swig and passing it on to Billy, who shook his head with a chuckle. "Not for me, mate. I'll stick to tea," he said, pulling out his own flask filled with hot tea, pulling her towards him with the other so the two could share both in the heat of the flames as well as the comfort of each other.

"Thanks," she said with a grateful smile, a rush of warmth gathering at her cheeks that made her feel like a teenager again, so she leaned in to press a quick kiss to his cheek, to watch the way it similarly affected him.

Libby, who had been observing the exchange with a knowing smirk, couldn't resist chiming in. "Three guesses to what you two are gonna do when you get back," she teased, nudging her playfully.

She smirked back, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I don't think you need three guesses," she replied, casting a glance at Billy. "Besides, probably holier than whatever you and Abi are gonna do."

"You're not wrong," Libby conceded with a laugh, exchanging a knowing look with her now fiance. "But we'll leave the details to your imagination."

“ARE YOU TWO TALKING ABOUT SEX AGAIN?!”

“Harry, shut the fuck up!”

With the fire crackling merrily and the warmth of friendship enveloping them, they settled in for a cosy evening under the stars, sharing stories, laughter, and the occasional flask of tea or whiskey. Sometimes both. Her ending up perched on Billy's thigh as she nursed the small cuppa in her gloved hands. It ended late into the night, with a slightly wobbled approach back to their bed and breakfast. Billy and her saw off each of them before slipping into their own room with a pleasant rush of the central heating on their faces.

With a soft sigh, she kicked off her boots, the worn leather hitting the floor with a dull thud. Her overcoat followed suit, landing in a heap on the nearby chair as she turned to face the bed, gathering her moistened hair to tie it out of her face.

"Train's at 12 o'clock tomorrow. Shall we get up early-ish for breakfast?" she asked, the excitement evident in her voice.

Billy nodded in agreement though she couldn’t see him, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of anticipation and affection. "Sounds like a plan," he replied, moving closer to her until their bodies were just inches apart.

She sank into his touch when his long arms wrapped around her middle, his heart beating pleasantly against her back, and burying his face in her hair, rocking with her body as if to sleep. As his arms enveloped her, holding her close, she couldn't help but notice the slight stiffness in his embrace, a silent acknowledgment of the shared trauma they both carried. They had grown accustomed to navigating the world together, finding solace in each other's presence, yet the lingering fear of confined spaces, especially cars, remained a constant reminder of the horrors they had faced.

But she didn’t say anything. She simply covered his hands with hers. And often, that’s all she needed to do for his shoulders to loosen.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs, smiling against her crown.

She chuckled softly as if not believing him, the sound like music to his ears. How could she believe him when she had been pelted by wind and rain all day. "Flattery will get you nowhere," she teased, turning in his embrace to face him, her eyes dancing with amusement.

Billy grinned, his fingers trailing lightly along her jawline. "Good thing I'm already exactly where I want to be," he quipped.

Her laughter bubbled up again, infectious and pure. "Smooth talker," she teased, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

He returned the kiss with equal tenderness, savouring the sweet moment between them. "Just stating the truth," he murmured against her lips, his breath mingling with hers.

He smelled of cigarettes, rain and the shampoo he’d used that morning. So normal and mundane, and yet it excited her nonetheless when they lay in bed together, hands clamouring for skin as if they were forbidden lovers, deprived of touch and separated by tragedy. And though there was no negativity of the kind to be found, the necessity behind the pressure of their fingers undoing each other's clothes, popping buttons, tugging at sleeves and kneading flesh, was there all the same. 

Billy's touch was subtly rough yet reassuring, his fingertips tracing patterns along her skin as if committing every curve and contour to memory. And she, in turn, responded eagerly to his touch, her body melting into his with a sense of familiarity and belonging that filled her with a profound sense of peace.

In the quiet intimacy of their embrace, they found refuge from the outside world, cocooned in the warmth of their love and the gentle rhythm of their breaths. The gentle tapping of heavier rain cast a mist against the window of the room, a waterfall endlessly making its way down like a slick of oil. It was strangely calming, with only the sound of the oncoming storm, spurred by the arrival of the evening, as the gentle background noise between laboured, passionate breaths.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, clinging onto him tighter with every lazy thrust into her. She looked at him with a sort of reverence, the sheets draped around his middle, and appreciated the way his stomach muscles flexed. In the months they’d been together, he’d lost a little bit of that wiry, lanky look and broadened somewhat. Not that she would dare complain.

Billy let out a stuttered moan, batting against her neck, leaning over her with chests flush and skin tacky to press open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone, his hands clamped tight around her waist. 

Since the trial, nearly all of Billy’s sex was like this. Lazy, languid and thoughtful. Sometimes, on odd occasions where he had some beer in him, he was needy and more risky, engaging in quickies stolen in dark corners, spurred on by the real threat of getting caught. Paddy had nearly rumbled them once. 

“Never want to let you go -” he breathed, ragged, “-just want you all to myself.”

Her brows drew together, breath hitching as he pressed his forehead to hers, blue eyes unyielding as his usually lingering touch drifted south to her thighs, fingers flexing as he tugged one around his hip with bruising intensity. The angle coupled with the relentless bullying of her sweet spot , had a long moan slipping between her lips. 

At first, Billy had been hesitant with their intimacy. After knowing her for so long outside the realms of romance, that was the one part where she felt the need to coax him out of his shell. She was a woman, and he a man. And while they had been friends for so long with something primal and deep simmering beneath, he was allowed to lose control with her. He was allowed to explore what a loving, sexually healthy relationship felt like. Allowed to discover what she liked, what he liked, what they both really liked, and sometimes what they didn’t like.

Once teased from his cage though, there was no way Billy was going back. But still, when his thumb lingered at her lips, blue eyes trained over her face to watch her hedonistic expression, he still blushed and felt a twinge of white hot pleasure jolt up his spine, when she took his thumb between her lips and caressed it with her tongue.

He nearly faltered. And she had to bite back a smile when she felt his hips tremble.

And yet it surprised her every time how he was able to turn the tables. For someone who some would assume was shy and unassuming, his now moist thumb glistened from her lips and dipped between her legs, where he was still pushing into her with heightening intensity, to apply gentle, but calculated pressure to her bud. Her fingernails dug into his back, lips parted with no sound, feeling as if she was being flung from some great height along with him.

“Oh, Billy-” 

Billy never lasted long after her. It was as if he was impatient to follow her in the breathless embrace of their highs. Both barely said a word. ‘I love you’s and constant praises were sometimes whispered in embarrassed laughs and tender words, but most of the time, there was little need to say anything at all.

Anything either of them said was communicated long ago. Like a tapestry of feelings and histories of them, woven forever into a story that formed each of them.

In the soft, calm afterglow of sex, Billy pulled her back to his chest, one hand idly brushing the tangles from her hair lovingly. His eyes were too watching the river made by the heavy rain, but felt no weight in his heart at the sight.

Rain always reminded him of her, of the memory of her once upon a time. Of the way she looked on that morning at Primary school. Of her wide, mischievous eyes when they’d rush home on the way from Cranstead Fields, trying to out-run the rain. Of her delicate features, flushed from chill and hair frizzy from humidity when she stood in his kitchen with parted lips. Each moment ignited something different, unique, but something that never left him, and only added to the complex emotions that stirred for her.

A smile crept to his lips at the memory of a few hours before, sitting before the fire pit and sharing a flask of tea, warming their bellies with it and thus their fingers before the flames. He thought of how the fire had burned out in a warm orange glow over their faces. And Billy closed his eyes, and allowed himself to sink into that feeling, into the memory of the love and laughter of the ones he held close to his heart.

And her, well…she saved him more than once in body and soul.

Each rescue, whether from the dark pits of his own doubts or from the brink of physical peril, had woven their lives inseparably together. She was his beacon in the storm, a lighthouse guiding him back to safety with her unwavering strength and tender care. Cradled by love and mutual devotion, Billy truly understood the essence of what they shared.

It was who they had, and in the end, that was everything.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch

@castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @eponaartemisa @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy

@justbelljust @minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian

@primonizzutto @qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3

[meraki-yao]

I'm here once more to talk about RWRB fan culture difference :D

Okay so the thing is people in China can't access Prime, so they watch a "pirated" version on Bilibili, the closest Chinese platform to YouTube

And on most Chinese video platforms, including Bilibili, there's this thing called "bullet comments", which are comments that float across the screen as the scene is playing, so the audience can comment in real-time (according to my sister: 'it's like a twitch chat but instead of staying in the chatbox as god intended everything flies across the screen like a flock of deranged geese')

And it can be problematic at times, especially when people start an argument with bullet comments, as it is with idol culture-related videos

But for RWRB, for the most part, the bullet comments are civil

Now the fun thing is that you can get genuinely wonderful comments like these:

He was alone on an island, but then he came...

He swims toward the little prince, and since then the lonely island blossoms like spring, a neverending glorious summer.

The freeing wind of Texas breezed past the Atlantic Ocean, awakening the dying rose of the London Castle

"Idealistic" is good, we need "idealistic" works to show people another possibility

Statues tell the stories of a million lives, and they are an ordinary pair among them

But then you also have hilarities like these:

The entire pink circle is literally just feral screaming, 啊="AHHHHHH"

Ha, I put on my earphones

I'm overwhelmed by the gays

Poor security guard (Amy) Hahahahahaha

Alex: These Flowers are really flowery

Henry: OMG These books are so bookish

In moments of awkwardness, everyone will pretend they are really busy

I'm on the streets...What do I do

Wait! Who's the top! (yeah top or bottom is a.. weirdly strict thing in Chinese LGBT culture)

Remember to pull the curtain!!!!

Fuck Me Am I allowed to watch this?

I really like a quote from Bilibili audience's: "AHH???"

So when I watch stuff on Bilibili, I have to watch it twice: once for the actual video, and once for the *chef's kiss bullet comments that are either poems that I copied down onto my notebook or things that make me laugh until I choke

I really want to share more of these comments, but there are like thousands of them and certain things can't be translated into English. Maybe I'll go through it scene by scene and pick out some fun ones that I can translate?

[mellaithwen]

Fuck it Friday!

*with buck and eddie as jedi from my Star Wars AU, pop!funko edition

I haven’t been tagged but I’ll tag some besties to join in the random Friday fun :) @homerforsure @princessfbi @ghosthunterbuck @littlespoonevan @renecdote

@doeeyeseddie @dr-shortsighted-owl @capseycartwright @fcntasmas @hopeintheashes

@userautumn @leothil @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels @glorious-spoon @kananjarus and anyone else who wants to share for the sake of it <3

So you may not know this, but I am a procrastinator, and so of course, instead of *checks notes* writing the star wars au, I decided to make myself figurines 😂

The above images are edits since the lightsabers don’t really light up, so you’ll notice a difference with the close-up images below 😎

So up first: Buck.

Buck’s head belongs to hockey player Connor McDavid (with the additional birthmark hand painted by me) and his body belongs to Obi Wan Kenobi from the Kenobi series.

The main downside with using Star Wars bodies is that they tend to be bobble-heads as opposed to static figurines. This means the head is attached via spring so it’s a little harder to remove, and then the neck is bigger than the hole at the base of the hockey player head. But hey, that’s what craft knives are for bébéy.

And now for Eddie!

Eddie’s head is courtesy of hockey player Sidney Crosby…

And you may be wondering, hey Amy why so many hockey players? and well the answer is, I’d already come across both these guys when making hockey!buck and hockey!eddie for @homerforsure (and another hockey!buck for @princessfbi ) so I knew the heads were perfect! I just needed to give Eddie a mole under his eye, and boom, 5b haircut vibes.

Eddie’s body was a little harder because i wanted a Jedi body but I wanted some variation in how he looked compared to Buck, which meant Obi Wan was out, and that reaalllly didn’t leave many options from what pops are readily available.

I ended up going for Haja Estree from the Kenobi series. In the series, he’s a con-man pretending to be a Jedi (so while this isn’t correct for Eddie in my AU, the figure does have a lightsaber clipped to his belt, and the clothing has Jedi vibes without being identical to Buck).

In the top edit, I’ve given Eddie a lightsaber in his hand and edited it out from his belt, I’ve also drawn in a blaster. I bought a tiny Lego blaster but I haven’t worked out what’s best to attach it with yet (most likely I’ll file his hand down and glue the piece in) but that’s a problem for another time.

Anyway. At some point I’ll put all the pictures together from the hockey pops I made but this was easier since it was less involved 😅

[spruzu]

THROWING SOME SONIC HEADCANONS ON U

Sonic

-He always has a bruise or scratch on him somewhere even if he hasnt fought eggman in a few days. there. is. always. one.

-He's also COVERED in scars. Theyre either covered up by his fur/quills or theyve faded over the years.

-When sonic showers he uses a bottle that can be used for shower gel, shampoo, conditioner, moisturiser, mascara, ketchup, pepsi and a microwave.

-Sonic only really likes physical touch like hugging when he's seriously injured or in pain (example A. sonic prime and frontiers). Also he doesnt mind it when he's doing it to someone else.

-Sonic paces when he's worried, thinking or waiting for something. (Shadow does this too just less)

-Sonic fidgets in his sleep a LOT. He'll falls asleep on his back and wake up with his legs half off the bed and the duvet on the floor.

-Sonic cant cook so he gets tails to make him dinner (he knows how to make chilli dogs tho dw)

-Sonic used to hum tails to sleep when there was a storm

-This ties in with the one before it. SONIC IS A FANTASTIC SINGER. This man is angelic. Also no one can tell me Rouge can't sing coz she defo can.

-Sonic has a draw of all the stuff from his past adventures (chips bracelet, this upgrades from sa2, etc.)

-He smells like man deodorant (Lynx)

Shadow

-He takes notes on how to be a ''real mobian'' since he was brought up on the ARK he doesnt really know how to fit in so he'll stalk sonic and take in how he acts.

-Shadow and Rouge have ''girl nights'' where they stay up, do face masks, eat pizza and watch movies. Just a sleepover pretty much. (Omega is sometimes involved to)

-Shadow sleeps like a vampire

-Shadow and sonic spar often (3-4 days a week)

-And if sonic doesnt show up to the sparing session he'll go find him and make sure he's ok that they are still sparing

-His bedroom is lit up by lamps, no big light at all just lamps and the window.

-He's INSANELY good at cooking and baking. Gordon ramsey ahh hedgehog

-Can speak every language fluetly, this includes few ones that are dead (this is smt gerald gave him when he was in the 'creation' sage oin the ARK)

-He smells fucking fantastic 24/7. Lavendar, rlly nice perfume (probably Rouge's), deodarant, anything! This man smells great.

Knuckles

-He has a really low spice tolerance, one SPECK of spice and this dude is like sonic in tmosth.

-He gets bothered by Rouge trying to steal the master emerald at least once a week.

-Works out everyday, maxes out the machines and just goes at it like it's at the lowest setting.

-Sometimes he'll ask if sonic wants to spar for the fun of it if he's not on Angel island.

-FEMINIST! (He loves women)

-Denise he loves rouge but will just get flustered if she makes on single flirtation towards him.

-Has tubs of frosting and a spoon at nearly all times (WHAT IF HE GETS HUNGRY ITS A GOOD SNACK)

Tails

-Tails puts on cooking videos for background noise when he making/designing a new invention.

-Tails info dumps about planes and nerdy stuff to sonic and sonic just pretend s like he knows what tails is going on about because he knows it makes tails happy.

-Tails uses his tails for pillows sometimes.

-Getes his little hair ruffled by everyone (mainly sonic)

-Likes making gifts for people as a way to say thank you

Amy

-Amy plays dress up with cream.

-Herself and her room smells like roses/flowers in general.

-Loves watching mean girls with rouge.

-Doesnt look it but is STRONNGGGG. Your telling me that she would swing a punch and wouldnt send someone FLYING?? SHE CARRIES THAT MASSIVE HAMMER FOR VRYING OUT LOUD!!!

-Crystals.

Rouge

-LOVES to gossip

-Ayesha Erotica listener

-Does shadows makeup sometimes (Omega watches)

-Has a perfume collection that she lets shadow use to

-Has the most BEAUTIFUL dresses in her wardrobe for different occasions

-Loves to wear rings

there u go, have fun with those.

[jungle-angel]

The One Where The Boys Think They're In Star Wars (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You and Rhett love your little boys, especially when they let their imaginations run wild

Warnings: Parenthood, mentions of pregnancy etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @withahappyrefrain @bradleybeachbabe @sorchathered @bradshawsbaby @sebsxphia @attapullman @callmemana @kmc1989

"Alright get'em on in there!" Royal ordered.

Rhett, Rip, Kayce and the others herded the cattle through the chute, loading them up onto the trucks in the hopes that the auction would be better than last years. None of them were looking forward to the two hour drive from Bozeman to Billings, let alone the auction itself.

"Lookin good Dad," Rhett said, dismounting from his horse.

"You get'em all?" Royal asked him.

"Yep," Rhett answered. "Looks like it's gonna be a better year than last year. Hopefully we can get some more milkers."

"We'll see son, Abigail's already a handful and so aren't the calves," Royal chuckled.

When all was said and done, the men hung around the fence while the hands retreated back to the bunkhouses until lunch. As they talked Rhett could hear giggling coming from the kids along with strange noises. He turned around to find them all wearing their Halloween costumes from that year and play fighting with sticks.

"I find your lack of faith disturbing young Skywalker!" Tatum chirped.

"You'll never take me alive Vader!!!" Tanner shrieked before chasing his brother with a stick.

"Oh my God," Rhett laughed under his breath.

"Are they.....?" Rip asked him.

Almost all of them pulled out their phones and began filming the kids and their shenanigans. For them, it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

"Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope!" Evie Wheeler cried out, pretending to be dramatic.

"Hey I'm Luke Skywalker, I'm here to rescue you!" Tanner exclaimed as he ran up to her.

"No Han Solo needs to come and rescue me!" Evie told him.

Jake Dutton and Colt Tillerson came running out of the bushes, one in his Han Solo costume and the other pretending to be Chewbacca while Amy, Tate and Rosie Hawk ran at them from behind a tree.

"Ya'll remember doin stupid shit like that?" Rhett laughed.

"Oh my God, we had more fun doin that than most kids we knew," Billy answered.

They could've watched the kids and their stupid antics for hours, completely forgetting that the date was May 4th. Later that day when Rhett came home, he showed you the videos, the two of you sharing a long, good laugh on the matter and never forgetting the priceless memories your children were already making.