#hes just a little trash eater

[how2bmotorized]

what a dude (his species thang is by @jeebusmeebus ,,,)

[obstinaterixatrix]

I consider myself good at hosting but not necessarily a ‘good host’ because I try take care of everything and try to keep an eye on everyone but am very. Never Forget You’re In My House. I’ll put guests to work when relevant and get clean-up started while people are still around lol

[blindmagdalena]

imagine being hired by vought to be a sort of housekeeper to homelander, doing his laundry and cooking for him in his penthouse. he’d immediately grow to love having someone to come home to, and would automatically slip into husband mode whenever he finds them doing him some wifely act of service (conveniently ignoring the fact they’re paid to be there, of course)

ao3 link

Working for Vought, specifically Homelander, turns out to be an insanely simple gig. Typically, you never even see him. You're free to do your cleaning in peace, picking up after America's favorite hero. He rarely ever leaves a mess, but there's enough to keep you employed. Tidying up his towels, replacing his hygiene supplies and tooth brushes. You're trained specifically on how to clean his suits. You empty and stock the fridge. He goes through a lot of milk. You always make sure to get whole. He lodged a complaint the one time it was less than. You were told initially that your cooking services wouldn't be necessary. Homelander isn't known to be, well... much of an eater.

Still, you didn't want the food you stocked at the start to go bad, so one day you prepare a few meals and put them in containers in the fridge. You include little notes with instructions on how they should be reheated. You sign each one with a little heart simply because that's how you've always done it, and pin them to the fridge. You think nothing of it. Homelander is dumbstruck by it.

At first he's affronted that you would leave him cold food in his fridge and expect him to heat it up for himself, but there's something distinctly... loving about it. Coming home to his laundry clean and his shelves dusted never felt like that. It was nothing more than a reset, an automatic process that he didn't dedicate any thought to. But this? This is personal. This reminds him that a living, breathing person was in his home, tending to it, and that person... cooked him a meal, and left him a little note. With a heart.

The next morning you get a text that you will indeed be cooking for Homelander that evening! You're in the midst of it, staying later than you usually do, when he walks in the door. You aren't making anything fancy, just steak and mashed potatoes, but he sucks in a breath like he's inhaling the scent of a gourmet meal. His smile is broad and gleaming. It makes your heart skip a beat.

To your surprise, he introduces himself. He shakes your hand firmly, and holds your stare as you remember your manners and manage to spit out your own name. "Charmed," he says through that radiant smile, and you feel like he means it. His eyes are somehow much bluer in person. His gaze flickers to the stove, and he clicks his tongue. "Not to question your craft, but is this really enough for two?" Looking at the steak currently searing, you falter. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you having company? No one told me." "Well of course I'm having company, you silly goose. You're standing right here, aren't you?" He asks, putting his hands on his hips. It's cheesy, like a moment straight out of a sitcom, but you fluster anyways. This man has such presence to him.

"You... want me to eat with you?" You ask, bewildered.

"Be a shame to cook up a storm and not even feel the rain," he laughs, as if you're the one thinking strangely here. He's already gone to the fridge, and pulled out a second steak. He offers it out to you with that same charming television ready grin. "C'mon. I can hear your stomach growling."

Tentatively, you take the package from him. "Okay."

That night, and each night that follows, you cook Homelander a meal at the tail-end of your shift, and sit down to eat with him. It's surreal, but after the second night, it occurs to you that you've never once seen sign of him having company. There's never extra dishes, or towels. No remnants of a party in the trash. If he does have friends, they're certainly never here.

You can't help but wonder if he's lonely. The thought humanizes him from the larger than life image you had of him in your mind, and you have an easier and easier time engaging him in conversation. He's funny, if not a little strange. There are times when you don't really know how to respond to the things he says, but he often moves on quickly enough to keep things from being awkward.

Truth be told, you're starting to quite enjoy his company.

Homelander begins showing up earlier and earlier into your shifts. The next week, it's barely after 4:00pm when he strides through the door, greeting you with a chipper, "Heya!" and a little salute.

You turn off the vacuum, and despite being a little caught off guard, you smile at him. For the first time, you say, "Welcome home!"

For a second, you worry you've said something wrong. That smile slips off his face, and he stands frozen a touch too long in the doorway. However, before you can add an amendment, his lips stretch back out and he closes the door behind him. "Good to be home," he says. There's less of that showmanship in his voice, you think.

"I didn't know you'd be home so early, I haven't finished-" "Oh, don't mind me, you do your thing. Pretend I'm not even here," he insists, taking a seat on his couch.

You expect him to occupy himself in some way. A book, perhaps, or even just his cellphone. Instead, for the next hour you're keenly aware of the fact the only thing he seems to be entertaining himself with is you.

After that, you cook dinner as usual, and the two of you eat amidst pleasant, casual conversation. It's the same as any other night, and yet somehow this evening feels distinctly different. You can't name exactly what it is, but something has changed.

Homelander begins filling out your time with new requests; he's suddenly become quite fascinated with plants. You had mentioned to him before that you like to keep them, despite the work they take. Your shifts grow longer to account for your new tasks.

All the while, he's been more and more present during your shifts. Although he doesn't directly take or distract you from your chores, you're always keenly aware of of his gaze on you while you work. You try not to overthink it, but the weight of his attention is heavy nonetheless.

One day, you're sweeping up a mess of spilled dirt, struggling to maneuver around the legs of a piece of furniture, when Homelander hops up to intervene. "Let me get that for you, sweetheart," he says, lifting the entire cabinet up as if it weighed nothing at all.

You lose yourself for a moment, standing dumbfounded before abruptly remembering to sweep the dirt out from under it, your heart racing. Your mind keeps replaying the pet name, and with every echo of it, your cheeks feel redder. Homelander smiles, watching you all the while. The next day, you arrive to find an enormous bouquet of roses sitting in a vase on the kitchen counter. There's a note with your name on it, and a simple message: Thanks for all your hard work. Keep it up! The note is signed with Homelander's sprawling signature. Smiling widely to yourself, you tuck the note into your pocket, and lean in to inhale the sweet smell of the flowers. On another occasion, it's time to clean the blades of the ceiling fan in his room, but you can't find that darn step ladder anywhere. Homelander must hear the way you're shuffling around and muttering under your breath—you swear the man hears everything—because he steps in to check on you. "Everything alright in here?" He asks, peeking in from the doorway. "Oh, fine, fine, I just can't find my step ladder anywhere. Have you seen it?" You ask, feeling flustered. Getting put behind schedule never fails to trip a thread of anxiety in your chest. "Can't say I have," he answers, stepping inside. He looks around the room. "What'cha need it for?" "Ceiling fan. Uhm, it's okay, I'll get to it later, if that's alright with you? I'm sorry, I could have sworn I left that ladder-" You stop yourself, realizing Homelander is suddenly striding directly towards you. Uncertain, you begin to take a step back, but he's fast. He puts an arm around you, and without warning you're being hoisted up into his arms as easily as a doll.

"Up y'go," he says, supporting not only your weight with ease, but resting you snug against his chest. You squeeze your knees together, arms pulled in tight, as if making yourself tiny will somehow protect you from the embarrassing quicken of your breath, or the rampant beat of your heart. "There you go. Who needs a step ladder when you've got me?" He asks, grinning down at you with that familiar dazzling spread of pearly whites. His smile feels better suited to a Hollywood audience than this quiet little moment, but the only thing you can really focus on is the fresh, woodsy smell of his cologne. "Uhm, I-I still don't think I can reach-" You stop, noticing the ceiling fan is now within arms reach. "Oh." Looking down, your eyes widen. Neither of your feet are touching the ground. Instead, Homelander is hovering well above it, holding you adjacent to the fan. You can't help the nervous laughter that suddenly bubbles out of you. "Oh my god," you laugh, looking around. "You're flying!" "As I'm known to do from time to time," he says, voice dripping with satisfaction. His gloved fingers tap absently at your waist, basking in your awe over what is, to him, a wholly unremarkable feat. The sheer normalcy of you makes his every move seem a marvel. He savors your wonder. You're so enamored with the novelty of it, you remember belatedly why you're up here. Clearing your throat, you reach up with the duster, and gently spin the fan, collecting the strands of dust and the like that had gathered on each one. You try your damnedest to focus on that, and not the fact Homelander's face is less than a foot from yours. Out of your peripheral, you can see that his grin has softened into a content, absent smile. Your stomach does cartwheels as you finish dusting the fan, bringing the duster back down. You clear your throat again, pretending it's not a nervous habit. "All done, thank you," you say quietly, smiling back at him.

"Any time, sweetheart," Homelander purrs. There it is again, that coy little nickname that sends your mind into a tizzy. As if that weren't bad enough, he winks at you, floating gently back down to the ground. Your legs feel so much like jelly, you worry you'll collapse the moment you're on your feet. Luckily, even once he's set you down, he leaves a hand lingering on your back. "You got a thing with heights? Your heart's pounding," he points out, much to your mortification. You try to laugh it off. "Oh, no! No, just wasn't expecting it. I'm fine with heights," you say, fumbling with the duster for a second before slipping it back into the cover. "Good," Homelander responds, an oddly cryptic depth to his tone. His smile lingers. "That's good. Alrighty, I'll leave you to it," he says, tipping his head in a polite little nod before he heads for the door, leaving you to your own devices, and the rapid fluttering in your stomach. Later that same day, you're thoroughly perplexed when you spot the step ladder exactly where it's supposed to be, certain you had checked there a dozen times over.

Two weeks from the day you first shared a meal, he presents you with a gift after dinner. "Oh, sir, you shouldn't-" "Please, please! Don't be so formal. It's just a little thing," he says, waving his hand dismissively. "Y'know, to show my appreciation. You take such good care of me. Just wanted to return the favor." Butterflies swarm rampant in your gut as you tug loose the pretty red ribbon tied around the box. Uncertain of what to expect, you feel a measure of relief when you lift the lid, and see a lovely apron folded inside it. "You wear this print a lot, figured you could use something, you know, matchy. Feminine," he says, gesturing vaguely with his hand. "Your other one's seen better days."

You exhale a soft laugh, touching the fabric. It's soft beneath your fingers, and of excellent quality. The gift is a thoughtful one, and it feels appropriate, despite what the expensive looking wrapping made you think. "You like it?" He asks after a beat, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I do! Yes, thank you. It's very nice. I've enjoyed working for you, sir—" You stop when he points a finger at you, his brows raised, and you correct, "—Homelander." He smiles, dropping his hand. "And eating with you. I can't say any of my other clients cared whether or not I ate," you say, chuckling. You think you see his nose twitch strangely at the mention of your other clients.

"Right, well! C'mon, let's see how it looks," he says, taking you by the shoulders and guiding you over to the mirror near the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. Homelander takes the box from your hands and presents it to you, allowing you to lift the apron up and let it unfold. Odd, it feels a touch heavier than you expected. You sling it around your neck, but before you can reach back to tie it, Homelander has taken it upon himself to do it for you. He cinches it at your waist with a sharp little tug, grinning at you from over your shoulder as he meets your eye in the mirror. "Loooook at that, perfect fit," he purrs, tying the ends off. "It's beautiful, thank y—" Smoothing your hands down the front of it, you stop. There's something in the right pocket of the apron. Glancing up, Homelander has a mischievous glint to his expression, but his brows raise, and his lips curl down. He's playing dumb.

Curiously, you slip your hand into the pocket, and feel smooth velvet against your fingers. Wrapping your hand around a firm rectangle, you draw it out, and feel your stomach flip as you stare at the distinctly luxurious looking black box now in your hands. "Oh, geeze, totally forgot that was even in there," Homelander says. His tone is terribly unconvincing, but he does sound very pleased with himself. "Whelp, you've already accepted, so I guess it's yours now." "I—" "Go on," he urges, giving your shoulders a little shake. He's watching you eagerly through the mirror. "Open it up. It's all yours."

Swallowing, you crack the box back on it's hinges. Your jaw drops, your chest tightens. You stare at the shimmering three-stone drop diamond necklace in utter disbelief. You don't even feel Homelander let go of your shoulders, or hear him slide off and drop his gloves to the nearby table. "Oh my god," you whisper. You probably couldn't afford the box this thing was sold in, let alone a single stone on it. "I don't think I can accept this, sir," you say, slipping back into the habit of formality as your brain struggles to catch up to reality.

"Oop, too late for that," Homelander dismisses, plucking the delicate necklace up from the fabric it lay in. "Here, allow me," he says, ignoring your shellshock while he drapes the necklace against your skin, his bare fingers brushing the back of your neck as he gets it fastened.

Breathless, you tentatively touch the bottom diamond. Your mouth feels full of cotton, and your heart is racing. Is this really happening?

Meanwhile, Homelander grips your upper arms, beaming. "Look at you. You know what they say about diamonds; they're a girl's best friend," he laughs, those canines of his looking sharper than ever.

Giving your arms a squeeze, Homelander leans close to your ear. "Happy two weeks," he whispers, the heat of his breath on your neck prickling goosebumps all the way down your spine. "Thank you," you whisper back, pushing out a bewildered little smile.

Homelander lingers there a moment, the warmth of his hands on your arms seeping through the fabric of your shirt. His smile has relaxed some, and his gaze is slightly distant as he looks you up and down in the mirror. You see a flash of pink as he wets his bottom lip with his tongue. It isn't until you clear your throat that his eyes snap back up to yours, regaining presence of mind. "I should get going," you say gently. His fingers flex on your arms, and the corners of his mouth twitch. "Right," he says, lips pulling into a thin smile that doesn't reach his eyes. This is always his least favorite part of the night. With obvious reluctance, he drops his hands from your arms. "Right, ah, let me—" "Unless..." You interject, turning to face him. Homelander's brows shoot up to his hairline. He blinks. "Unless...?" "Unless you'd like me to stay," you say quietly, your stomach tying itself in knots. "Not as your housekeeper, but maybe as just... Company?"

"Company," he echoes, his parted lips slowly drawing into a smile. This one does reach his eyes. "We could watch a movie."

"I like movies," you say. The words sound dumb to you as soon as they leave your lips, but Homelander looks at you like you've just spun a beautiful sonnet. "Great, I have movies," he says, putting a hand on your lower back as he gestures you to the living room. His smile is broad now, eager and a touch boyish. You feel a little surge of endearment amidst the adrenaline. "What do you want to watch?" "Dealers choice," you say, slipping out of the apron before you take a seat at the couch. Homelander immediately busies himself with the television, flipping through Vought+'s enormous repertoire.

Still in a mild daze, you don't process any of the titles that fly by on the screen. Instead, you're hyper aware of the weight of the necklace hanging from your throat, and the lingering heat that Homelander's hands left on your skin.

So much for a simple gig.

[wingedhallows]

my choice; sirius black

pairing: sirius black x reader | 2.3k words plot: nothing was ever choice, so helping the order and and finding your way back to the love of your life is finally your choice. authors note: hi hi, so this was requested by my dear scarlett @arwensloanebarnes & I'm so happy to have finally written it. I hope you like it, even if i've put my own little twist on it. love u & thank you for always throwing ideas and words of motivation towards me <3

navigation

“I want to break up.” His kind, lovely eyes now glared at her in disbelief. His arm slacked off the doorframe. His demeanor changed, his coolness gone. You watched him crumble, watched him break. His mouth opened and he didn’t say a word, your gaze wandered to his feet.

The shame washed over you like a cold shower. “Break up?” You couldn’t look at him, the man you loved to the moon and back, the man you would die for. That’s exactly why you were doing this, why you had to push him away.

“What the fuck do you mean?” He barked as he took a step towards you.

“I want to end our relationship.” You spoke, voice without emotion. He stared you down, hands in fists.

“End? What-what the fuck, you can’t just end our relationship like this, we’re Bonny & Clyde, we’re ride or die, we’re made for each other… we belong with each other.” He tried, his arms flailing around in anguish. You bit the inside of your cheek in hopes of stopping yourself from bursting out in tears.

“Not anymore, Black. I don’t date blood traitors.”

He stumbled back, his face in an expression you never hoped to see. It tore you apart, your chest felt tight as you watched him. “What?” You took a breath and grabbed your bag.

“Take care, Sirius.” Before you could turn back and tell him why you acted this way, why you had to hurt him in such a horrific way and take everything back, you dragged yourself through the door and left him behind.

You stood hidden behind a trash container, sparks flying and grunts audible. Damario and Vincius, two fellow Death Eaters, gleamed with confidence as they had cornered Albus Dumbledore in an alleyway. Their wands were held high, smirks on their faces.

“The Dark Lord will award us dearly, Vincius.” Damario spat, yellow teeth faced your way.

“I don’t think he will, Damario.” Albus tried as he popped a lemon drop in his mouth. He fished his wand from his long clothing and without a word spoken, his wand unleashed a spell so powerful that the both of them flew several feet. Damario grabbed Vincius’ arm and in a flash they were gone. 

Albus didn’t put his wand away as he turned towards you, eyes set on your frame.

“You can come out now.” He said and you cursed yourself, of course he would feel your presence. You tucked your wand away and raised your arms.

“You’re more guarded with me?” You tried, his face didn’t change though, your joke fell through.

“Of course, Damario and Vincius aren’t remotely as skilled as you are, Y/N.” You gave him a smile and stepped further towards him.

“Thank you, Headmaster.” He frowned and took a step towards you, wand still raised. “What brings you here, Y/N?” He paused to eye you.

“Do you wish to murder me as well?” The smile vanished from your face and you shook your head. “No, I do not wish to murder you.” You paused as well as you let your arms fall to your side.

“Then what is it?” You sighed and fished a small container from your jacked, and pulled your wand from your other.

“I wish to help you.” He frowned and cocked his head. “You mean betray your master?” You chuckled and shook your head.

“I do not have a master, nothing of what happened with me or my friends was my choice. I wish to help you, help you defeat Voldemort and make decisions of my own.” He lowered his wand and took a step towards you.

“I’ll show you.”

Without hesitation you raised your wand to your temple and pulled the desired memory from your mind and bottled it up for Albus to take. He took the bottle from you and left you behind, his form vanished with a worp of his surroundings.

You pulled the pack of cigarettes from your pocket and lit it with the lighter Sirius had gifted you on your sixteenth birthday. You eyed the small object and sighed, you’d make everything right.

Starting with this, with your memories. Would Albus believe you? He needed to, those memories were reason enough, right?

“We gave you so much freedom, so much space to become a respectable young woman, a great witch but what do you do?” Your mother paused, wand raised at you.

“We feed you, we provide you with education and a roof over your head and you go around whoring yourself out to a blood traitor!?” A woman, you didn’t know, held you by your neck, wand pressed into your flesh.

“You think you can go against us? Against the ways of the noble Devereux household? Every member of this family will serve the Dark Lord and his ways, my dear daughter.” Her fingers crawled into your arm as you tried to get away, desperately.

Another man and your father came to your mothers side. You stared at your father, tears in your eyes as he watched you.

“Stop fighting.” He tried to calm you down. You didn’t listen, your body twisted and wound with as much effort as you could manage. Screams and tears left your face, desperate to set an end to this madness.

Your mothers cold fingers grabbed your cheeks, nothing but hatred visible in her old face.

“Stop fighting it, dear. It was never your decision to make.”

Without wasting another minute, she placed her wand on the soft flesh of your lower arm and branded you, damned you.

Albus had sent his phoenix with a letter. It had said to invite you to a meeting, to announce your plans of being a double agent and to apologize for having thought ill of you.

You had learnt the hard way to not take others' words personally.

“They’ll insult you, take your appearance as an insult.” He spoke as he tapped his wand on the door of Sirius’ parents house.

His parents were arrested not too long ago, the house was now empty. You sighed as you watched the house appear through rumbles. Why exactly this damned house?

“I’d be disappointed if not.” You sighed as you flipped the cigarette away. Your hair moved in the subtle cold wind and your heart beat like it’ll break down any minute from all the effort.

Albus didn’t answer and stepped inside, you followed him. Your coat found its way onto the overflowing coat hanger. The dark hallway seemed too familiar, making your heart skip a beat. The old wizard walked forward, he was greeted with bright hello’s and smiles.

You kept your head high, hands shoved in your jeans as you followed Albus into the kitchen. Lily threw her hand to her mouth and James shoved her behind himself. Remus watched you, body motionless. You didn’t look his way, you couldn’t.

“Albus, what is the meaning behind this?” Minerva questioned, hand propped on the dark wooden table.

“Why would you bring a Death Eater in our midst? What the fuck are you doing here?” James threw your way. You stood behind the headmaster as your mouth shifted into a grin.

“Lovely to see as well, James.” You paused, fingers playing with your lighter inside your jacket.

“How’s Harry?” James' face contorted into hatred as Sirius raised his wand. “Don’t you take his name in your filthy mouth.” Your eyes wandered to the man you missed the most. He looked good, tired, broken but strangely enough, good.

“My bad.” You stopped as Albus eyed you, demanding you to finish whatever this was.

Albus sat down, you did as well. “Y/N offered to act as a double agent.” He paused and took a sip from his cup.

“After careful consideration, she has proven herself to be trustworthy.” Sirius huffed in disbelief, his wand still tightly clasped in his right hand.

“How are you so sure?” Sirius spoke, eyes in slits. You couldn’t fight the urge to smirk. He still had it, the fire.

“I saw Y/N’s memories.” The room stilled of all motion, attention once again on you.

“What memories?” Albus shook his head at Sirius' question. “Not my place to tell, Sirius.” He eyed you down and left it at that.

You closed the room to the restroom, turning off the light. Someone’s hand on your elbow as he dragged you towards the living room. The back of his head gave him away.

“What do you want, Sirius?” He closed the door and turned around. “What do I want?” He spat, his hand on the cabinet by the door.

“What do you want?” You crossed your arms, face in an emotionless mask. “I want to help you.” He shook his head, his lips formed in a cruel snarl.

“Don’t give me this crap, help us? You turned your back on us, you became one of them.” Your eyes left his face, shame crawling up your back.

“I’m sorry.” You simply stated. He swallowed, eyes leaving your face. You were never good at arguing when you were at fault, especially not with Sirius.

“You’re sorry? Alice and Frank were tortured into insanity, Y/N!” He yelled, face turning red.

“Marlene was murdered, her whole family wiped out!” He threw his fist on the couch.

“Our friends died, butchered like animals and you’re sorry? Sorry doesn’t cut it, Y/N.” He came towards you.

“You ripped my heart out and became one of those, those disgusting vile creatures, like it was nothing to you!” He was now yelling in your face.

“You disgust me.” He spat. You swallowed and watched him walk away from you. His hand was on the handle as you spoke.

“It wasn’t my choice.” 

He turned around, face hard and mad. You looked away, eyes already collecting tears.

“Nothing ever was my choice.” His eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean?” You let your hands fall to your side as you looked at him once again.

“I didn’t become one of them.” You paused to take a breath.

“They made me one of them.”

He watched you, his eyebrows still furrowed.

“Made you?” You tried to fight the tears but one of them left your eyes either way.

“My mother had me pinned to the ground.” He held onto the couch as his eyes widened.

“To brand me as one of their own.” You pushed some hair behind your ear as you took a deep breath.

“I had no choice but to belong to one side. Reaching out to Albus was my choice, betraying Voldemort was my choice and being a double agent was my choice, this is for once my choice and I’ll take responsibility for it.” 

You wiped the tears off your face. “I understand that you hate me, that I broke your heart and that I destroyed our friends lifes and I’ll take that guilt of not having saved Alice, Frank or Marlene but I’ll do my best to save Harry, Lily and James. To save Remus and You. I’ll do whatever it takes, so please, let me make this right.” You spoke, voice strained.

He watched you, eyes glossy.

“Why’d you have to push me away?” You gave him a sad smile.

“I had to keep you safe.” He nodded and turned to leave. Just as he opened the door he spoke again.

“I won’t stand in your way.” You didn’t answer.

“Oh fuck, don’t you die on me, Nicolai.” You cursed as you dragged the man with you, his blood made it impossible to keep a good grip on him.

“Fuck, fuck.” You cursed over and over again, his body almost limp. With the last strength you could muster, you aparated to a place you knew.

Street was dimly lit, the air was cold and the blood stuck to you like a second skin.

With a huff you sat Nicolai down next to the stairs leading up to the front stairs. You smashed your hand against the dark door and waited, hands hanging limb at your sides.

The door opened and before you stood a half smiling Sirius. His eyes widened as he took your appearance in. His hands flew to your shoulders, your waist, arms.

“Are you hurt?” He threw at you as he inspected you. “Not mine.” You managed as you pointed your finger at the unconscious form on the ground. “Good.”

“James, Remus!” Sirius yelled as he pushed himself past you. You leaned against the door frame, the pain in your shoulder slowly fading in again.

“Come in.” Lily spoke, her hand held out for you. You looked at her and reluctantly gave in. She guided you inside, sat you on Sirius’ sofa and brought you a cup of water.

“Sirius told us everything.” You nodded but kept your gaze on the ground. “We understand.” She said before she left you alone.

You downed the water and tried to get rid of the blood on your hands which had already stained your nails. Sirius made his way into the living room as he sat down on the chair which you had given him as a christmas present three years ago.

“He’ll make it.” He said as he pushed a cigarette between his lips. He held the pack out for you and without much thinking you took one.

He lit it for you and just like nothing of the past years had happened, you sat there.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” You spoke. “It’s fine.” He paused to take a drag.

“I’m glad you came to me.” You looked at him, a sad smile on your lips.

“I never stopped loving you.”

It had left your lips without much thought.

“Neither have I.”

He said, his lips in a small smile.

“Thank you for keeping me safe.” He spoke again and you chuckled, trying to keep as much ash in the ashtray as possible.

“Always.”

His hand found yours as his thumb brushed the back of yours.

This was your choice and it felt like the right one.

[ohnococo]

JJK MMA Fighter AU Headcanons

[Headcanons for Toji, Geto, Gojo, and Sukuna as MMA Fighters]

MMA fighter Toji Fushiguro, who keeps everyone on his training team shocked when he consistently makes weight because he eats whatever he wants until about a month before weigh ins. When he’s fighting he’s always lean and cut as hell despite said “fuck it” diet.

MMA fighter Toji is a light heavyweight, he could choose to fight as a heavyweight if he wanted, but he’d be at the lower end of the weight class and if he bulked up any more it would affect his flexibility.

MMA fighter Toji is a black belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and holds the record for fastest submission. Absolute master of sneaky submissions, to the point that opponents will try to avoid being taken down by him at all costs. Suits him, if he doesn’t win by submission he’ll win by points alone because they’re too afraid to get in his (long) reach. He hates boring fights though, so expect lots of taunting in these cases.

MMA fighter Toji’s early fight record is a bit spotty, but once he hits his prime a few years in his record is nearly flawless. Except for one fight that gets brought up a lot more than he would like where he was knocked out cold. 

MMA fighter Toji comes from a fighting family, a boxing family specifically, but absolutely does not associate himself with them. When he was young and talked more shit he asked a few of them to fight him, but they either blew him off or refused to have an MMA match - it was boxing only or nothing. 

MMA fighter Toji gets his chance to fight someone from the Zen’in family eventually, and decides he won’t take them to the ground at all - he’ll box them. He wins by knockout in the second round. 

MMA fighter Suguru Geto is a middleweight. He sticks to his wheelhouse and you won’t find him moving weight classes or suddenly trying any flashy moves.

MMA fighter Geto whose background was initially in Judo, and early on he made the smart choice to supplement it with Brazilian jiu-jitsu. That paired with his strength and stamina make him a dangerous combo and he’s known for getting almost anyone down for a little ground and pound until he earns himself a stoppage win. 

MMA fighter Geto doesn’t have to make weight, he just stays at weight. Thanks to this he’s a frequent late call-in when other fighters have had to back out at the last minute. His diet is clean and measured and he has to be on rest for a good while to really indulge. He just prefers being a clean eater. 

MMA fighter Geto can get in his head sometimes about his opponents though, particularly if they’re known to be slippery on the ground and hard to get a favourable position against. His losses tend to be a result of hanging back too much and letting it go to judges' decision - in which case it’ll be his lack of striking that gets him. At his best, though? He’s fearsome and will hold a title at some point in his career.

MMA fighter Geto is neither a trash talker, nor a show off, so he doesn’t get quite as much press as other fighters. Some of his fans theorise that he’d have much more title shots and bigger fights if he were to play up his personality for viewers, but even more fans like and respect that he’s himself and is a purist in his fighting. He gets the job done, without bells and whistles.

MMA fighter Geto has excellent sportsmanship. Even if he’s a clear winner he doesn’t ever downplay his opponent’s skills or talk badly about them. Always taps gloves before a fight, and the second the person taps or the ref waves his arms to stop, he’s letting go and checking on his opponent. This behaviour earns him lots of respect and lots of friends among his peers. It’s beneficial in the end because lots of other fighters enjoy training with him, and Suguru is particularly good at incorporating new things he picks up seamlessly into his existing skill set.

MMA fighter Suguru Geto who, of his generation of big names, is most expected to become a trainer upon retirement. He’s always helpful to even the most inexperienced fighters during training, and generally has really great insights on fighting. 

MMA fighter Geto always gets dragged out to at least one place to celebrate after a win. His training partner Satoru Gojo insists on it. Though he doesn’t stay out late and will always end the night icing his muscles and drinking loads of water to recover.

MMA fighter Satoru Gojo is the poster boy for his company. He has sponsorships galore. He’s handsome, interviews well, keeps his nose clean as far as the public is concerned, and is an amazing fighter.

MMA fighter Gojo’s talent was noticed early, so he’s been in some kind of combat sport competitively since he was a kid. Judo, taekwondo, anything he could try he’s done for at least a summer. He later refocused on primarily Muay Thai and kickboxing.

MMA fighter Gojo is a lightweight in his early career, but as he gets older and bulks up a little Gojo moves up into the welterweight class where he really shines. He has an incredible reach thanks to his long limbs, which poses problems for anyone against him. 

MMA fighter Gojo is an all rounder - dangerous standing and dangerous on the ground, but if an opponent is strong enough they can carve out some points by holding him down so he doesn’t have the chance to get momentum on those powerful kicks. 

MMA fighter Gojo can eat whatever he wants and not put on weight, he never seems sluggish after his big meals or sugary treats either and no one understands how. He just seems to eat whatever he wants without consequence, although as he gets into his late 20s his manager and trainers are always on his ass about eating better. He listens… sometimes.

MMA fighter Gojo will taunt and tease loads before and during fights, but really does have good sportsmanship. He always taps gloves at the beginning of a match, compliments his opponent and hugs or pats them on the back post-match, and you won’t find him breaking rules. Say he mis-judges a punch and hits someone on the back of the head or his foot slips during a thigh kick and he gets them in the groin, he’ll feel genuinely bad and allow them all the time the referee can for recovery before the match resumes. 

MMA fighter Gojo parties hard after a match. Not necessarily drinking, but he’s going out on the town, dancing, being his happy loud self, eating all the things his trainers begged him not to in the lead up to weigh-ins. Even though his manager initially worried he would make a fool of himself, it actually only helps his image. Many fans will come across him in a bar or club after a match and get pictures with him. He’s just friendly and takes the time, even if he’s trying to unwind. 

MMA fighter Ryomen Sukuna whose only losses are disqualifications for times he got too carried away - if that even counts. No one has ever beaten him outright. Despite this he has some of the gnarliest cauliflower ear you’ve ever seen.

MMA fighter Sukuna who got kicked out of his first MMA company for poor conduct. 

MMA fighter Sukuna is a heavyweight that specialises in boxing and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu - the latter gives a lot of his opponents trouble because at this weight class they’re expecting a glorified boxing/kick boxing match and don’t know what’s coming once they’re on the ground.

MMA fighter Sukuna always has some viewers debating on whether he’s a fraud for how, despite winning, he’s always down on points in his scorecard. It’s only because he likes eating punches from opponents if only to show them that he can shake them off like nothing, and he gets his own points deducted for rule breaking. Punches to the back of the head, kneeing downed opponents, but he only does these things once in a match to avoid disqualification nowadays. The points don’t matter to him anyway, he finishes the fight when he feels like it.

MMA fighter Sukuna secured a spot on title cards from a young age, thanks to his impressive frame and even more impressive taunting in the press leading up to fights. 

MMA fighter Sukuna once dropped down two weight classes just to fuck up someone he doesn’t like on record. People count him out for the physical strain dropping so much muscle would have on anyone else, but this isn’t just anyone else, it’s Ryomen Sukuna.

MMA fighter Sukuna who, as he ages, has to teach new up and comers a lesson again and again. The more someone talks about him being past his prime, the harder they’ll fall. Though he’ll still talk non-stop about how early MMA was better, when you could fight anyone of any weight class and there weren’t so many rules around how to safely beat someone. 

MMA fighter Sukuna who, after yet another win, celebrates by drinking and feasting and fucking. Just pure hedonism. He’s had a few belligerent moments, and a few encounters of getting a little too hot and heavy in the corner of a club, but he’s just too popular as a sort of “heel” in the MMA world that organisers make any press around more illegal activities disappear. 

[sheeple]

Miracles don't exist | 30: Battle of the Astronomy Tower

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Dumbledore's death A/n: Another year complete. I'll be taking a break as usual from posting to finish the story. 24th of December will chapter 31 be posted. But before that time I've got a little extra content for y'all :)) [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

Theodore is quick to send a spell flying towards the Death Eaters. But it's easily deflected by Bellatrix Lestrange. You try to get out of bed, grabbing your wand that lies on the bedside table. But your legs give out under you and you land painfully on your knees.

You crawl towards the closest wall and hoist yourself up, raising a shaking arm and ready to defend yourself and Theo. "What," huff, "do you", huff, "want?", you ask, out of breath.

You already know the how, but now the why. Why here with you? And not hunting down Dumbledore.

With a flick of the wrist, Fenrir Greyback comes stalking toward you, a sinister smirk on his face. You yelp and fire a disarming spell, but it bounces off of him.

Theo's quick to jump over the bed and stand in the way between you and the werewolf. He puts an arm in front of you, which you hold on for support.

"Isn't that just the cutest?" Bellatrix laughs cruelly, the other Death Eaters joining her. "The little fiancé is protecting her."

You wish you had more strength, you wish that you weren't so exhausted so you could stand up to her. But instead, your legs shake and the hold on your wand is weak. Even if you wanted to protect yourself and Theo, your spells would be weak.

"I won't ask again. What do you want?" You raise your chin.

She grins, walking towards you. She throws Theodore away with a flick of the wand against the wall and grabs your face, digging her filthy nails into your skin. The two of you stare in silence, daring the other one to look away. 

From the corner of your eyes, you see Theo clambering up. You give in and look at him worried. 

Bellatrix takes this as a victory and rips her hand away from your face. "Take them", she orders to Greyback.

The werewolf picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You trash against his hold, but it's useless as your feet dangle off the ground and Greyback just marches on. A Death Eater holds Theodore at wand point and makes him drag his body off the floor.

You're disorientated as the group moves through the castle, upstairs and through doors. Until you finally feel the cold breeze of the night air and you're being put down.

Draco stands in front of Dumbledore at the top of the Astronomy Tower, his wand pointed towards the elder man. 

"Well... look what we have here." Bellatrix halts the group, her eyes trained on the pair. She moves towards your cousin, whispering, "well done, Draco."

"Good evening, Bellatrix." Dumbledore seems unbothered like he has been expecting it. "I think introductions are in order, don't you?"

"Love to, Albus. But I'm afraid we're a bit on a tight schedule. Do it!", she hisses towards Draco, the boy's hand shaking.

You try to move forward, but Fenrir's hand wraps around your throat and holds you in place. You move your hand to the side, reaching out to see if you can grab Theo's hand. But he's too far away from you.

"He doesn't have the stomach, just like his father. Let me finish him in my own way", remarks someone to your right.

"No! The Dark Lord was clear, the boy must do it."

There is some creaking from down below you, and you glance at it. Your breath stops as you spot a reflection in a pair of glasses. Harry. The two of you make eye contact and you slowly shake your head, scared of what will happen.

Bellatrix storms towards Draco, leaning close to him. "This is your moment. Do it. Go on, Draco! Now!", she bellows, clearly getting impatient.

Draco quivers, his face morphed in anguish. The grip on his wand tightens and you swear he's going to do it. He's going to kill Dumbledore.

"No." Professor Snape appears from nowhere, making everybody turn towards him.

There is a moment of silence and shock until the headmaster breaks it. "Severus... please", he begs.

The former Potions Master raises his wand and fires off the killing curse. Avada Kedavra rings in your ears as a flash of green light hits Dumbledore. He flies off the railing and you scream. You launch out of the hold of the werewolf and rush towards the railing, watching how the man drops from high until his body hits the stones below.

You clutch a shaking hand over your mouth. Bile rises in your throat. A pair of hands snatches your shoulder and you get pulled towards the stairs. You watch how Bellatrix fires the Dark mark into the sky with a celebratory yell.

The Death Eaters move swiftly towards the exit of the castle, destroying everything in their path. Everything is a blur until you're outside and Hagrit's hut is in flames.

"Snape! He trusted you!" Harry comes barreling down the hill, wand in hand and fury in his eyes. He fires spells at the man, getting angrier every time Snape deflects them. Until he yells, "Sectumsempra!"

You let out a shriek, clutching your hands over your ears and crouching down. You brace for the impact, the pain. But it doesn't come. Instead, you're pulled to your feet and dragged towards somewhere.

You disappear in a flurry of dark robes and black smoke. Hands grip you and you get pulled in all different kinds of directions. It's hard to breathe. And even when you have stopped moving and you collapse on the ground, you're still out of breath.

The grass under you feels coarse. You know where they took you to. Malfoy Manor. To Voldemort.

A hand grips your bicep harshly before you get yanked off the ground and dragged into the house. You look up and study Snape. He has his never-breaking hard glare on his face, his eyes focussed on where is supposed to go and nothing else. They don't wander, don't linger. 

He brings up stairs, and down endless hallways until he stops in front of familiar wooden doors. He knocks two times and waits a moment before opening one of the doors and pushing you inside.

You stumble, your legs still weak. You find your footing as you hold the back of a chair for support.

The Dark Lord stands in front of the fireplace, his back facing towards you. Nagini slithers around him, her head resting in his hands as he pets the snake. 

You wait with bated breath for what will come. 

Nagini slithers from the Dark Lord's hold towards you. She makes her way up your leg and restricts herself around your middle. "Hello, pretty", she hisses. If a snake had eyelids, she would have fluttered them at you.

You swallow with an uncomfortable smile on your lips, you reach out and run a hand over her scaly body. "Hello, Nagini", you answer back.

She lets out happy hisses. Nagini nestles herself against your body with no intention of letting go.

The Dark Lord is still facing the fire, his wand in his hands. "I assume the mission went successful?"

"Yes, Draco fulfilled his assignment. Dumbledore is dead." It feels weird to say it out loud. Everything happened so fast that you didn't even have a moment to realise what happened. Dumbledore is dead and Snape killed him. All the while Draco was supposed to do it. 

The Dark Lord turns around, his snake-like eyes trained on you. You straighten your back, chest rising anxiously.

He reaches out and takes hold of your chin in an ice-cold hand, his long nails digging into your skin. He studies something on your face. "What did this?"

Confused, you frown. He pushes your face to the side so you're facing a mirror fastened on the wall next to the door. You take a step towards it and Nagini unfurls from you. A large and angry scar creeps from under your jaw towards the inner corner of your right eye. You trace it and hiss as it still hurts.

"I was... I was hit with the Sect- Sectumsempra curse... by Harry Potter", you admit, hanging your head low. Flashes of pain travel through your mind and you squeeze your eyes shut. 

A presence behind you turns you around and you do not dare to look at him. "My Heir, I expect you from now on to attend every meeting and follow my every order. If you do so, I'll grant you your revenge."

You snap your head up, brows knitted together. "My revenge, Father?"

An unnerving smile grows on Voldemort's face. "On Harry Potter."

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry  @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore​ @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505 @fluffybunnyu @theroyalmanatee @shinrjj @hegdus @kermits-bitch @m1kasawps @noah-uhhh-what @mypolicemanharryyy @fals3-g0d @decapitated-coffee @thatgirljas13 @slytherinambitious @raineisms @mastermindmiko @timmytime17 @regsg18 @supernatural-lover @bubybubsters @lafrone @hermionelove @the-sander-fander @akengii @aliciacat20 @unstablereader @burns-in-the-sun @rachelnicolee @damagelove @daintylittlerose

[snapghoul]

I am so so so charmed by your Seresin twins universe. Do you have more thoughts on what they were like in high school? I love your idea of Jake standing up for Tyler (behind his back, of course), if you feel like fleshing that out in a full fic...

Thanks for sharing all your head canons and stories with us -- I can't wait to read more!! 💙💙

You got me giggling and kicking my feet, I’m so happy you’re enjoying my au ❤️❤️

You keep thinkin’ that you’ll never get burnt

The two times Jake defended Tyler with his fists.

Note: I really suck at writing trash talk oh my goddess, I can’t be mean in for the life of me even when writing.

Warnings: foul language, bullying, physical violence

Song: These Boots Are Made For Walkin’ - Nancy Sinatra

The first time it happened was during freshman year, in P.E. class, in the locker room. Jake had just finished the final day of the track unit. The locker room was buzzing with the usual post-exercise energy. Jake and Tyler didn’t have any classes together, the school knowing better than to but them in the same room.

As Jake was changing, he overheard a conversation between a couple of students he didn’t recognize.

“What’s his name? Seresin? Tyler? Jake’s brother, right?” one of them asked, curiosity lacing their voice.

The mention of Tyler was enough to catch Jake’s attention. He turned slightly, trying to gauge the tone of the conversation.

“Yeah, that’s him. I heard he’s a dirt eater. My buddy saw him at the rodeo on Saturday,” another voice chimed in, followed by a few snickers. “I think he’s a little...”

Jake slammed his locker shut, a sharp prick of anger under his skin. The casual mockery of Tyler, especially about something as hard-earned as the rodeo, stung deeply. So what if Tyler had taken a few falls? He was just starting out this season—he wasn’t going to be perfect right away.

Jake’s hands clenched into fists as he turned toward the group. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice tight with controlled fury. “Tyler’s working hard and getting better.”

Jake stood firm, ready to defend his brother’s honor. The one making the comment was an upperclassman, his face smeared with cocky arrogance. He raised an eyebrow at Jake, clearly unfazed.

“Oh yeah? I say the next rodeo he gets his head stomped on. Maybe that’ll teach him,” the upperclassman taunted.

In a flash of rage, Jake grabbed the kid and slammed him hard against the lockers. The upperclassman’s head hit the metal with a sharp clang. “You shut up!” Jake growled, his voice a low, menacing roar.

The room went dead silent, the other students recoiling in shock. Jake’s anger was raw and unrestrained, his actions a clear message that he wouldn’t tolerate any more disrespect towards his brother.

Jake shoved him once more before storming out of the locker room.

The second time was the one and only time Tyler saw it.

It was Wednesday, fourth period passing time, and Jake was leaning against his friend’s locker while his buddies chatted. He noticed Tyler walking down the hall, animatedly discussing something. Jake followed his brother with his eyes until Tyler disappeared from view.

Jake would never admit it, but he was fiercely protective of his twin. He often noticed the irritated looks and whispered comments directed at Tyler, mostly because of his enthusiastic interest in science.

"God, Tyler never shuts up," Ryan, a teammate from the football team, complained beside him.

"I’m not sure which is worse—listening to him talk about science or just hearing him at all," added Declan, another friend.

“It sucks that you live with him, Jake. I think I’d rather throw myself off a bridge than be his brother,” Ryan joked, and the others laughed.

Jake was not usually prone to violence. Even if he was seething with rage he’d never engage physical aggression. But Ryan’s comment ignited a fierce anger in him. Jake cherished having a twin, someone who was always there to listen and support him. The thought of being without Tyler was unsettling.

“What?” Jake asked, his voice tight with restrained emotion.

“Yeah! C’mon, Jake, he’s fucking annoying. All he does is talk and take up space. Sure, he’s good at the local rodeo, but he’s a fucking—”

Ryan didn’t get to finish his sentence. Jake dropped his books and threw a punch so hard that Ryan stumbled into the lockers on the opposite side of the hallway. Declan, who had been standing close by, received the same treatment.

The crowd in the hall quickly parted, forming a circle around the commotion, their murmurs hushed in shock.

“Say that again, you son of a bitch!” Jake roared, his voice raw with fury. He lunged for Ryan again, his hand grabbing at Ryan’s shirt, his other fist swinging back, knuckles smeared with the blood from Ryan’s nose.

Jake’s fury was unrestrained; Tyler was far from a waste of space—he was everything Ryan and Declan were not. Without waiting for a response, Jake landed another punch. The crowd erupted into chaos, and a few teachers rushed to intervene.

Eventually, two teachers managed to drag Jake away, his kicks and curses directed at Ryan and Declan as he struggled. His fists were bruised and bloodied, evidence of the intense anger he felt.

Jake’s gaze found Tyler amidst the throng of students, his twin’s eyes wide with shock but also with an unexpected smile. Even as everyone around them tried to piece together what had happened, Tyler’s smile shone through. Then, Tyler let out a laugh that was swallowed by the commotion, but Jake caught it. Grinning wildly, Jake noticed the blood in in his teeth, a mark of the punch Ryan had landed on him. The notion fueled Jake’s satisfaction even as he was restrained, he chalked another win.

[mynameisjag]

For anonymous: Prompt: Nicepool crushing hard on Weapon X.

Author's Note: If given the chance, I will write Logan as the embodiment of a feral cat unless specifically told not to.

-

The usual thing about the TVA force hiring Deadpool and Wolverine to help handle cross universe dilemmas happens. Which was usually solved with a good fight, quips, and hauling their blood covered bodies back home for a greasy dinner.

Handling the situation with words…was abit more…problematic…

No one wanted to get near Weapon X to demand the variant go home and Deadpool, well, he had his own issues with his variant.

“The forces of fanfiction are against me, why are you fucking here?!”

“Good to see you too buddy!”

“Fucking how!”

Nicepool just shrugged and did a little wave over at Logan, who waved lightly back, “The forces of the multiverse are a mystery, death and life is at it’s own whimsy command. Much like love.”, and the man was now dreamily sighing and staring lovingly at the pissed off Wolverine variant.

Who was currently distracted by Wade’s Logan.

Logan was steadily just watching the other black clad mutant circle around him, both bristling.

Wade ignored that whole situation, they could take care of themselves like the big girls they are.

“You can not “Pretty Woman” this situation, Miss Lola over there is a man eater in the way Hannibal Lector is.”

“Oh, their name is Lola? That’s so pretty…Lola…”

“Is this what everyone back home feels like dealing with me, shit, I’m going to have to some apology letters or flowers when we get back home.”

“I should get them some flowers, what do you think they’re favorite is?”

“Lily’s, like the ones they use at funerals because that’s what is going to happen.”

Both Wolverines were on all fours and doing great imitations of cats now, hissing and teeth baring included.

“Awe, they are making friends!”, Nicepool clasped his hands in front of himself, sighing deeply again.

“Just fucking stick your dick in a trash compactor, it would end the same!”

“I can give them a better life, I can save them from the streets, I can be their hero.”, there seemed to be actual anime sparkles around the man…Wade waved it all away like a bad fart.

“Lola” was now purring and rubbing up against Logan, both chittering away like the ferret cousins they were.

Deadpool was just staring at his variant, his face being covered did not deter the aura of his annoyance being projected full force at the other, too bad Nicepool paid absolutely no attention to the waves of hatred sent his way, “You know what “Mr. Salt is too spicy for me”, go on, go confess your love,” he dramatically pointed over to the Wolverines, “go on, go-wait, where’s the other one?”

Logan shrugged nonchalantly, “He left.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he went home.”, he pointed at one of the doorways usually made from the TVA for dimensional travel, “I think he wants me to follow him.”

“Nope, I kidnapped you fair and square, we have a dog and rent together now, so you are not going anywhere. I’ve gotten too used to stealing your body heat at night. I’ve got no body hair to keep me warm, Lo, you’ve got too much, it’s a perfect balance, we can’t mess with the balance.”

Nicepool took a deep loud breath, interrupting the other two as he placed his hand on Wade’s shoulder, who just shrugged it off, “I know what I should do now, wish me luck,” he then turned and went through the gateway like a soldier on a mission, the entryway closing behind him in a zip of light.

“Wow,” Deadpool clapped his hands together once, “he is going to be murdered. Violently. Lola is going to use his thighs and squeeze his head like a watermelon in absolute viscous glee…I’m sorta jealous that’s how that cheery fuck will go out this time,” he turned toward his partner, “will you-“

“-I’m not getting your rotted out brain shit all over my crotch.”

“Fucking damn it!”

-Lola comes from the lyrics, “Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl.”

[rapha-reads]

IWTV rewatch

Season 1 episode 7 [The Thing Lay Still] - part 3/3

- Okay, the triple confrontation Daniel/Louis, Daniel/Armand and Louis/Louis is long but there's so much to say, I have to quote it entirely:

[Daniel] "Well, isn't that neat and tidy?" - THANK YOU DANIEL, I know I can always count on you to point out the flaws and holes in the fabric of Louis' recollection.

[Louis] "'There was a ship. We did get on it.'

[Daniel] 'Yeah, I read that, the first 50 pages. Not exactly the, uh, adventure-of-our-lives feeling I'm feeling.'

[Louis] 'It was a traumatic escape.'

[Daniel] 'Yeah, but she didn't say that explicitly. […] But, um… there's a feeling that she hated your guts there for a while. Why is that?'"

Trust Daniel to always see the little thing that would be inconsequential to anyone else.

[Louis] "'I was haunted by my brother's death, by the abandonment of my sister, by the murder of Lestat, I…'

[Daniel] 'Murder? What murder? It was an act of mercy. You didn't kill Lestat. You spared him out of some fucked-up idea you had about love.'

[Louis] 'Love? I bled him like a pig and waited for the death rattle.'"

Oh, Louis. You are so good at lying to yourself. Good thing Daniel's too much of an excellent investigative reporter to let you fool him like you're fooling yourself. Notice how Louis looks as Daniel undoes all his lies and smoke mirrors? Like he's still trying to cling so hard to the story he's told himself for the past 80 years, like the lie is the only thing that keeps him upright, like if he admits the love, admits he wanted to save Lestat, that would completely undo him and there would be no going back?

[Daniel] "You were shot point-blank by an alderman. You were dropped a thousand feet and survived. You torched Antoinette just to make sure. Where does the trash go, Louis? You take the trash down to the street, some guys show up in a truck and they throw it in the back, and then, they drive it out to the middle of nowhere, right? No. They take the trash to the dump. And having lived two blocks away from the dump just outside of Fishkill, New York, with my first wife, I can state, with authority, what else you'll find there. Rats. Big fucking rats, the size of Kevin Durant's sneakers. Enough blood in them to bring back the dead. Especially one in a trunk with locks on the inside. You knew it, Louis. You had to. The biggest rat eater of them all."

Thank you for bringing back Moonlight Sonata! Haven't figured out yet if it's intra or extradiegetic tho. I love its presence in this episode. It's my favourite piece of classical music (I know, very original) and it's so gothic par excellence.

Mention of the first wife, Alice/Armand, no, I will not get down from this hill.

I love how Daniel's theory posit Louis as having done some planning for himself outside of Claudia's and even Lestat's, with the trunks locking on the inside and the rats needed to revive.

[Rashid/Armand] "'This session is over.'

[Daniel] 'How many days in the Islamic year? How many names are there for Allah?'

[Rashid/Armand] '355 and 99.'

[Daniel] 'Why does a 200-pound bouncer pass out after he sucks him off, and you, a wet T-shirt away from 130, doesn't even blink?'"

Ha, Daniel said 'okay who the eff are you and why am I smelling bullshit'. Meanwhile Armand said 'oh shit we're getting too close to dangerous waters and Louis is about to lose it, better reassert control'. But also, Muslim!Armand. Definitely. Not a throwaway line, not just pretence. Rolin Jones I'm counting on you to not fuck this up.

[Louis] "'I couldn't burn him.'

[Daniel] 'But Claudia could.'

[Louis] 'No', she couldn't.'

[Daniel] 'She stuck a pen in his neck. She recorded his last words in his own blood. The girl did not have a fuckin' problem tossing him on the grill, okay?'"

And Louis' wall of lies is breaking and shattering… And the pebbles of the zen garden, his other big trauma, don't help either…

[Daniel] "You cursed her into the darkness. You chose Lestat over her time and time again. You don't need a memoir, Louis. You need a hundred sessions of EMDR. You know the shit they put soldiers through when they see one of their platoon buddies get blown up in front of them?"

Say it, Daniel! These messy vamps need therapy.

Making jokes to avoid the sheer anguish in Louis' face, voice and body language, both in the 1940 flashback (the image of Louis holding Lestat's body and yelling is tattooed on my eyelids) and in 2022 (Louis sitting in his zen garden hugging and rocking himself, eyes screwed shut, trying to block Daniel and Armand's voices and the memories lives rent free in my mind).

[Daniel] "'144 years and you're still Louis the Pimp, paying a whore to sit in a room and talk with you. 'Cause why? You got some story you wanna tell the whole world about yourself?'

[Rashid/Armand] 'When you hear it you'll be ashamed, ashamed of what you say to him now!'"

Please don't hold back, Danny, do tell us what you think exactly. But hey, Louis needs to hear it.

The fuck are you talking about, Armand… Also notice how agitated he is? Feeling protective of Louis, or feeling like he's losing control of the interview, the interviewee and the interviewer all at once?

Love Armand taking off is gloves in the background. So subtle, so crucial. And then the lenses.

[Daniel] "'This is the same shit that happened in San Francisco.'

[Louis] 'Not exactly.'

[Daniel] 'How is it any different, Louis?'

[Armand] 'This time I won't save your life. Louis can sometimes act out. I protect him from himself, always have. Stopped him that night in San Francisco.'"

Oh, hello, Armand's decided to play Superman. Aaaaah, Armand's orange eyes, I love them!!!

Can we talk about Armand's infantilisation of Louis? "He acts out, I protect him from himself"… Like a child that can't regulate his feelings and needs to be put on time's out. The manipulation is deep and multi-layered, it's not just the memory alteration. Notice how Louis is pretty much dissociating, staring at the grey wall, face slowly becoming inexpressive and voice returning to flat and empty, from the moment Armand started telling off Daniel?

[Daniel] "'You were there.'

[Louis] 'You don't remember.'

[Daniel] 'No, I don't remember.'

[Louis] 'What was that you said about memory? 'A monster', was it?'

[Daniel] 'But I saw you standing in the sun.'

[Armand] 'As we age, the sun loses its power over us. What's a mediocre star to a 514-year-old vampire?'

[Louis] 'Daniel Molloy, I'd like you to meet the vampire Armand, the love of my life.'"

One, don't be too cocky, Louis, there's plenty you don't remember about that night too yourself.

Two, and we've come full circle again, the monster memory making itself fully known after lurking all season long.

Three, shut up Armand, the Sun is not a mediocre star, it's part of the entire reason there's life on this planet, show some respect. Sun deities are some of the most frequent deities around the globe. You need to come back down to earth.

Four, all the books being out of reach to Louis, another way Armand's exerting subtle control.

Five, "love of my life", BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAGA *deep breath* HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAA, that line kills me every time I hear time. Why you lying Louis, stop fucking lying all the time. Sorry, Armand.

Daniel seeing them side by side and hearing that stupid line after listening to Louis ramble and compose poetry on the spot about Lestat for the past week or so: "hm. I sense bullshit of the highest degree. Time to destroy that whole tower of lies one by one.".

Aaaaaaaaaah, that was such a rich and intense episode!!!! What a grandiose season 1 final!!! So many different elements that have got to be revisited by other perspectives to get the full painting. So many seeds planted for season 2 and even season 3!! The writing is flawless, the acting is exquisite, the music is gorgeous, the costume, set design and stage direction are masterful. I am in love with this show.

ep1 | ep2 | ep3 | ep4 | ep5 | ep6 | part 1 | part 2

[atlasdoe]

no bcs i think dumbles was a trash headmaster and i would've had him stepping down from the headmaster position OR solely focusing in that bcs i feel like he was biting more than he could chew (then again the british educational system has always sucked and nobody gave a fuck about kids so can i? entirely blame him? not truly), BUT blame him for everything???? EVERYTHING???? people are sick. or too young. and need to read more.

yeah i realllg don't understand how people truly believe that Dumbledore is the root to all evil. I swear people are more mad at him for certain characters deaths more then they are at fucking Voldemort.

The thing with Dumbledore is that he's morally grey. He's not the perfect mentor that we're led to believe he is but that doesn't make him a full blown villain. He is not responsible for every bad thing that's happened in the series

and it's SO ANNOYING cause it's taking away everything that made these characters interesting. Like acting as if everyone in the Order was manipulated into joining takes away so much from them.

And as for the Death Eaters don't even get me started. Evan and Barty in particular died because of their own actions. They committed crimes, they were supposed to be arrested but they resisted and instead were killed. Dumbledore has literally no hand in that because he's not apart of the justice system and has never shown any signs of wanting to be

And as for the people who died during the Battle of Hogwarts blaming Dumbledore is just plain dumb. Dumbledore was literally already dead at this point and speaking of Remus and Tonks as if they were fully adults doing their job (as part of the Order and in Tonks case literally her job. It's her fucking job to fight bad wizards. It's what she gets paid for. She's a fucking auror) with the kids it's more McGonagalls fault if anything for letting the kids fight in the battle to begin with. But the fandom love McGonagall so they'd never admit it. Either way Dumbledore was already six feet under and played literally no part in the battle or had a say in who fought it (HE WAS LITERALLY DEAD)

Also while we're here let's talking about everyone else

James and Lily Dumbledore literally put in hiding to protect them "but he took the invisibility cloak" no. James gave him the cloak. We don't know why but considering James and Lily were in hiding and their lives were in the hands of their best friend Peter it's not hard to imagine that they deemed themselves safe enough to hand Dumbledore a cloak that wouldn't have fitted all three of them anyway

Cedric Diggory died because of three people and their names are Peter Pettigrew, Barty Crouch Jr and Voldemort. Maybe at best i'll give you that Dumbeldore wasn't looking into the odd things happening at Hogwarts (like Harry being chosen) enough but then you'll have to be prepared to blame every other teacher as well

Marlene, Dorcas, Pandora, Alice, Frank, and practically every other marauders era character had very little cannon information about their death but none of their deaths mention anything to do with Dumbledore. How tf is Dumbledore to blame for Pandora experimenting with spells???

Regulus is the same with Barty and Evan. That man went into the cave by himself because of something Kreacher told him about Voldemort. IF DUMBLEDORE KNEW THAT REGULUS WENT INTO THET CAVE AND KNEW ABOUT THE LOCKET THEN WHY THE FUCK WOULD HE TAKE THE LITERAL CHOSEN ONE WHO HAS TO BE KILLED BY VOLDEMORT INTO A DEATH CAVE TO GET A PHONY LOCKET??????????

As i've said I don't even like Dumbledore like that but this fandom is killing me with all of this frankly stupid nonsense and it's killing my braincells

[bwabys-scenarios]

Hellooo, what about phinks😛

this guy… I’m not his biggest fan but I definitely understand why people like him

Phink’s Icks

-wears way too much cologne, to the point it makes you gag. he’ll tone it down if you beg, though, so points to him

-clingy but in a rude way?? like he pretends he DESPISES the idea of holding you yet he follows you around until you propose the idea that you should cuddle(he’s trying to act all cool, and eventually he stops this little act)

-if he’s not interested in what you’re saying he’ll tune it out. you’ll be ranting about your interests and he’ll just nod, not listening to a damn thing 😭 but he expects you to listen to every word he says

-keeps old clothes until they’re literally unwearable. you hold up a pair of socks covered in holes, one touch away from disintegrating. you throw them in the trash and the next day they’re back in his drawer

-SOO jealous, to the point it’s icky. the mailman handed you your male and he nearly killed him

What icks him out

-he dislikes people that are stuck up

-people who overly dislike cats or animals. sees it as a red flag

-being pushed away when he wants to hug/hold you(makes him feel unloved)

-he hates people that creep on women(biggest women defender)

Random HCs

-can be so subby sometimes

-loves to have you sat on his lap! it’s not even a sexual thing(sometimes) he just likes to feel your weight and warmth against him!

-so soft and gentle when he holds you. he knows his strength, treats you like glass

-wears an apron when he cooks

-he would love the Barbie Movie(green flag)

-once he’s grown more comfortable around you he lets you hold him

-pussy eater through and through, will drop to his knees to eat you out whenever

[just-wrting]

Caught You Looking

Title: Caught You Looking

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: A list of times you caught Aaron looking at you.

Word Count: 2,314

Master List

A/N: Just a little thing that I got an idea for. This sort of drabble/story will be very easy to do with how my job works as these are short little instances that give an overall story I guess. I do have a bigger piece that I am working on but do not know how long it will take.

The first time you catch him looking at you is exactly one month after you started at the BAU. Penelope Garcia is so excited to celebrate anything that she brings you a tray of cupcakes. Everyone gathers around your desk and helps themselves to the cupcakes despite Garcia scolding them. You insist they help themselves to the almost two dozen cupcakes.

Despite all the commotion, Hotch doesn’t leave his office. You start to feel a little guilty that he isn’t partaking in the fuss around your desk. So you place a couple of cupcakes on napkins and excuse yourself.

You knock on the office door and hear him tell you to come in. Carefully opening the door, you step in and take a quick glance around. Some things catch your eye, but you opt to look at them later.

“Garcia thinks we should celebrate me being here for a month and brought these,” you say as you set a cupcake on the desk. “I can’t eat them all.”

Hotch looks up at you for a moment before reaching for the cupcake. “You didn’t have to bring me one.”

You shrug. “It’s not that big of a deal. Besides I brought a second one so you’re not alone while you eat it.”

You nervously look away from him and start to study the room. There are a few pictures containing his family and friends and even an award on the wall. Behind the desk contains a framed drawing from his son. It’s not the only one as you can see one tucked under some papers. Overall the office is filled with normal office things such as books and files.

You turn your head to read the award on the wall and you eat your own cupcake. Hotch is an impressive man and you’re very nervous to be standing in his office, even if it’s for nothing serious. You want to comment about the fact that he’s very impressive, but aren’t sure how to say it. Turning back to Hotch, you notice him staring at you. You freeze, unsure of what you did wrong. His face is soft and there’s a faint smile on his lips. “You’ve got something on your face.”

You toss the cupcake wrapper in the trash can next to the desk and brush crumbs off your fingers.

“I’m so sorry! I’m not normally a messy eater it’s just a lot of buttercream,” you explain and you rub the side of your mouth. “Did I get it?”

This time Hotch breaks out into a smile. He stands up and puts his hand on your cheek, gently cupping your face. He takes the napkin from your hands and brings it to the opposite cheek. With a little force, he rubs the stray frosting from your face.

“There wasn’t any point in you walking to the bathroom to look in a mirror.” His voice is gentle. “I’m sorry for getting so close.”

You know your face is heating up. His voice and his touch are both so gentle you know you could get used to them easily if you aren’t careful. “It’s fine. I’m gonna get back to the thing,” you say, tripping over your words as you shake your head. “I’ll be at my desk if you need anything else.”

With that, you make your escape from the office quickly. Your heart is racing, and all you want to do is let him continue to hold you gently. — Another time you catch him staring at you is much more mundane. It’s time for a case briefing and you’re studying both the files and the team. You’ve been with the team for less than a year so you do your best to watch what sort of reactions they have to a case.

Rossi is a great example. For a man you can hide his real feelings very well, his face while reading something without someone watching is very telling as to whether you’ll have a bad time or not. Such as right now, Rossi’s eyes are wide and he’s playing with the edge of a paper. His mouth is pulled into a slight frown. You can tell that this case makes even him feel gross.

You let your eyes wander around to the other members of the team. Morgan is holding his chin in his hand, and Prentiss is letting out a soft yet long and drawn-out sigh. Based on their reactions, you feel like you’re in for a longer case than normal.

As you make your way around the table, you finally glance at Hotch. His eyes are firmly locked onto you. Once you turn your head fully towards him, he makes eye contact.

“(Y/N), what are your thoughts?” he asks.

You quickly look back at the files. “Well based on this level of violence, there are most likely rage kills. Not to mention there’s some… creative liberty in the violence. Even Rossi seems to be surprised at it.”

Rossi breaks into a grin and nods. “True. This level of violence is overkill which is usually seen in rage kills. However, there isn’t any similarity between the victim types.”

You glance back to Hotch, who is still studying you intently. “Well there may not be a physical similarity but if you divide the victims into groups based on the time between murders there is something similar.”

Reid looks up from his files and leans back in his chair. “Each group of victims then contains three people one woman and two males. The men are most likely alpha males and the women are conventionally attractive. What if our unsub attempted to flirt with the women and the men made fun of him?”

“So he feels emasculated. Something about that sets him off and he kills them. That would explain the rage. It could remind him of something in his past so it leads to overkill since he can’t get to the real thing.” Emily taps the table as she talks. “If that’s true it’s only a matter of time before he could go after the real thing.”

Hotch nods and gives you the smallest of smiles. “We should try to figure out who had contact with all three victims while they were last together. Wheels up in five everyone.”

You can feel a warm feeling bubbling up inside of you. As you stand up, you opt to label it as pride in the fact that Hotch approved of your profiling. — It’s late at night, and you are the last person at the office. Hotch usually takes that spot, but he had just left no more than fifteen minutes ago. This meant that the file you had just finished will have to sit on your desk. As you listened to the music coming from your headphones, you let yourself relax. Nothing works as well as just listening to music to calm down after a stressful day.

As the song ends, you hear the familiar beat of the Cha Cha Slide play. It had been added to your playlist to appease a friend. She said that having a song she could dance to on her playlist let her get in that much need exercise while she was at her desk. You had to pick this one cause the beat made sure that you walked quickly. That and the dance was in the lyrics so if you found yourself alone it wasn’t that hard to dance to. Much like you usually do when the song comes on, you stand up and start to move around. As the chorus comes on, you slide across the floor to the left and right. You surprisingly enjoy doing the dance and lose yourself in it.

As you take it back, according to the lyrics, you bump straight into a desk and pause the music to fix what you knocked over. At first, you think you’re hearing things. There’s the muffled sound of laughter. You pull off your headphones. Now you’re sure that you hear it, and you while around to see who it is.

Hotch stands in the doorway to the bullpen watching you with a smile. You immediately stand up straight.

“What are you doing back?”

“I forgot something. You haven’t left yet?”

The smile stays on his lips and you can’t bear to look at him anymore. You feel embarrassed that your boss caught you dancing alone in the office. Not that he seemed to mind. You wonder how long he had been watching you.

“You didn’t watch the whole show did you?” you ask.

He walks towards you and stands up the cup of pens you knocked over. “I watched enough to know that you make a better dancer than I do.” He’s so close you can smell his soap. It sets your heart racing and you don’t want him to go away.

“I was just leaving after I finished with the song. Did you eat yet?” you can’t stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth. “If not there’s this little place I know that’s still open.”

His eyes soften. “I would enjoy that actually.” — You sit in your seat and lean back with a sigh. Of course, you would get called in on an emergency case. On a day when you were going to go on a date. Your new shirt sits taught against your shoulders and you regret ever buying it.

“Woah, there kid. Is that a new shirt?” Morgan asks as he gives you a once-over. “Where were you going to wear that fancy thing?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not fancy, Derek. And to top it off it was supposed to be my date shirt.”

“What led you to buy a shirt exclusively to wear on dates?” Reid sits next to you. “Just the concept of that is a little odd.”

“It doesn’t matter now. My date said one more cancellation and he wasn’t going to try again,” you say as you close your eyes.

No one tries to get you to answer their questions as they wait for everyone to show up. You don’t want to explain to them that you bought this shirt almost a year ago when you had just barely started at the BAU. It was meant as a nice shirt to go out on dates with, but it sat in the back of your closet forgotten. It wasn’t until your parents asked when you were gonna introduce them to a partner that you decided to actually jump into the dating pool.

The briefing begins after Emily arrives and it goes quickly. There isn’t much time to waste, so Hotch and Garcia present the most basic things you need to know about the case before you all start to file out to head to the jet.

“So are you going to start wearing that around the office now?” Emily falls into line next to you. “It’s very flattering and seems to follow the dress code.”

“I don’t know. It’s a miracle this shirt has seen the light of day,” you respond. “I could ask Hotch about it.”

She ponders this thought. As if she was curious about the answer he would give, she turns to look at him. It’s nothing more than a glance before she turns back to you with a cheeky smile.

“Why don’t you ask him now?”

You turn your head to look back at him and wonder how you didn’t feel his eyes on you. There’s a sort of daze on his face, that makes you wonder if he’s zoning out or not. It’s kind of cute to see, his eyes are focused on you, and his eyebrows are knit together in thought. Something is on his mind.

“Is this okay to wear at the BAU, Hotch?” you call out. “If it’s not I can change on the plane.”

He opens his mouth but Rossi beats him to it. “Oh no, (Y/N), that’s fine to wear. But maybe you want to think of getting it adjusted a little. Can’t have the other guys here getting distracted.”

Hotch gives him a glare, and you realize Rossi is teasing him. Emily had just said it is a flattering shirt and you think Hotch managed to notice. You can feel your face get warm and butterflies enter your stomach.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Rossi,” you say before quickly turning back to face forward. — You know he’s looking at you. Despite there being a million other places he could be looking, he’s looking at you. You can feel his gaze even as you try to focus on your feet.

You know that if you look up at him and meet his gaze, you’ll start to cry. Not that you would be the only person crying, as you hear someone bawling somewhere off to your right. It’s probably someone you’re related to, as you can hear them say you look so grown up now.

Finally, you get the courage to look at him. Aaron is standing in front of you with the softest look in his eyes and a large smile on his face. Tears are in the corners of his eyes, and you can feel your own well up. Despite the tears, this is the happiest moment of your life.

As soon as the officiant states, Aaron’s lips are on yours. His hands cup your cheeks and his thumbs brush away the tears that spill as you close your eyes. He tastes of sugar and you know Jack gave him a piece of candy to help him calm his nerves.

“I love you,” he mumbles as he rests his forehead on yours. “And I promise to love you forever.”

You can’t contain yourself anymore and let the tears fall. “I love you too, Aaron! I love you now and I’ll love you endlessly.”

[arcadias-hell]

Replacements

(it is super late, sorry for no proof read. also not a request, this was an oc work that was changed to be able to be read as x reader. Singular use of Y/N bc it might be confusing otherwise. Also CW for alcoholism? only mentioned)

Questioning Monty never worked. 

No matter how hard she tried or what mood he was in. Being all nice and sweet didn’t work, neither did being distant or aggressive. Not once did she ever get any information about Bonnie, any confirmation about his death or if he was still alive, somewhere. Nothing. Threatening to deactivate him didn’t work, so what else could she do. She gave up. 

“Whatever,” she told herself, “it will resolve itself if I’m patient enough”. But she hated these thoughts the longer they stayed in her head. Hated herself because the thought of betraying Bonnie was always present. It kept her awake at night, worried Chica, who was concerned about her dear friend. So much so that she would sneak into her room at night, making sure that she was fine.

These thoughts intensified when she became Monty’s Handler, which is really just a fancy word for “make sure he doesn’t kill someone”. And oh, did she make sure of that. Besides a few staff bots, there were no ”accidents”. Well, not counting the time he tried to bite off Vanessa’s head, ending with her own arm in his maw thanks to her brilliant idea of “he can’t kill her if I put my arm between them”. Or the countless times of him falling off the catwalks of Gator Golf.

Her relationship with Monty was build on pissing each other off. He’d be a menace, making a mess for her to clean up. She’d tease him about the smallest stuff. Messed up at golf? Scared some kid? She would know and tease him about it. But they always kept it playful. She never found herself in a situation where she was actually afraid of him.

————————————-

Most of her time was spend after hours in the empty Bowling Alley. People would rarely come here anymore, it getting more empty day by day. She knew they, Faz Ent., wanted to rebrand it, a thought she couldn’t handle. They already got rid of it all. His posters, his cutouts, his merch. It was all gone. Even the damn candy and soda was discontinued. Everything was ripped from her and fuck, it hurt. It reopened old wounds that she thought were long sealed, brought back old habits that she tried so hard to unlearn. She begged them to at least leave the Alley be, let it be a silly attraction like Foxy’s Pirate Cove. And while they let it be for the time being, she knew she was only stalling for time and sooner or later this place would be taken from her too. It all would be taken. That’s how it always is, was, will be. 

This place was her home, she felt safe. The damn Pizzaplex, a place that scared many people thanks to the company’s past, was her home. The animatronics were her family. For once, since a long time, she felt safe. But it was falling apart right beneath her fingers. The sinkhole in Roxy’s Raceway started it. Or was it firing almost all human staff? Or perhaps the Virus that spread a while ago and almost ruined the place? Or maybe it was her. She had a habit of destroying the things she loved. Everything she touched died, or so it seemed. 

All she had left was getting drunk at the Alley, listening to Bonnie’s stupid favorite Jazz music on that damn Jukebox. Often Chica would be there with her. They usually did everything together. She’d even sneak her a pizza from time to time, even if it meant having to hose her down for yet another time that day, due to her being a very messy eater. It happened so often that they just put a trash bag into her stomach area, for easy cleaning. 

Apart from that small problem, Chica was very girly. She loved being at the saloon and ,oh man, did she love dates. Freddy was rather unromantic and obvious, so often they needed a little push, which she lovingly provided. She’d often catch glimpses of them on their little dates. It was simple stuff. Playing some golf, watching a movie in the daycare theater, that kinda stuff. It reminded her of the better times. But now she and her would talk about their feelings. But no matter how much she talked about it, screamed it into the world, it just would not get better. Freddy would check on her sometimes, they shared their grief, he lost his best friend after all. He grew protective over her, was careful all the time, walking on eggshells. It aggravated her more than it should, this behavioral change in him made her feel small, useless. He always had a caring and fatherly nature, but this was much, even for him. So, while he was trying to find kind and calming words for her, she was sitting at the bar with a glass in her hand, barely even registering what he was saying. It was the same stuff all the time anyway, “sorry”s and life advice that she had heard all the time else where. Luckily for her, Roxy knew better than to pity her or give her some silly advice and she mostly kept to herself in the Raceway anyway.

If it wasn’t Freddy or Chica bothering her in her quiet time it was Vanessa. She meant well, but damn. Ness had a talent for making jokes at the wrong time and just generally saying the wrong stuff at the wrong time. On good days they’d play a few rounds of bowling and talk about their old home, family and work gossip. It was a nice but more and more rare thing. At some point Ness suddenly started taking her job very serious. A little too serious. And she’d disappear a lot, seemingly dodging the security cams. She’d wouldn’t ask. She did the same back when Bonnie was still here, knew all the blind spots. 

God, she should know better than to sneak around. She’s a “talented Tech” after all, blah blah.

————————————

This day she returned from the Bowling Alley, a little more upset that usual. It was nothing more than her thoughts that were troubling her, the usual. Besides that, her watch was dead and needed recharging, which always was a sign that its time to return to her room. Making her way to Rockstar Row to have a last daily check up on the band, she met Monty halfway. He seemed more aggravated than usual, growling and being in a defensive state. This was nothing new for him, he was always acting like this. Nobody knew what exactly it was, maybe his programming. Or maybe it was just the way he was. Though, he was different back then. He used to be chill, almost innocent. But now? No emotions other than anger.

She liked to think deep down he was still the same, she never feared the animatronics, even at Monty’s wildest she stood up to him bravely without a thought but tonight felt different. 

They met, looked at each other. Not a word was spoken. It was completely silent, until he suddenly creeped closer. His heavy footsteps felt like hell, a possible death sentence, her sudden end. She often fantasized that she would end up like Bonnie. She didn’t know how he ”died” but she could imagine it if Monty was the one who caused it. Wrecked, torn apart, mangled.  Her mind would imagine how it felt. The feeling of being torn apart while alive. Was it painful or would her body block out the pain due to the trauma? She hoped she’d feel it. She wanted to feel it, to end up like him. 

She always knew her eventual death would be caused by Monty, or maybe Freddy, he was scary without the safety protocols. Or god, even by Bonnie himself when he was in one of his moods.. She’d be fine with that, honestly. But now, with a more than pissed Monty in front of her? Yea, probably him.

Monty’s issues being the reasons why, jealousy, envy, the pure rage he felt every time someone even mentioned the bunny. He couldn’t handle Bonnie being more popular than him. Something he wasn’t able to deal with in a healthy way. The jealousy tore him apart. Bonnie was the bassist, part of the main band. Monty was only part of his own one man band in his golf course. It was just him, nobody else. He had nothing to call his own. Maybe the golf course but back then, even that was just a half thing, Freddy would often be there. Even Bonnie would, all while Monty was banned from the Bowling Alley. It wasn’t fair. But what was fair in this place? Humans were replaced by Staff Bots that couldn’t even hold conversation or do the most basic tasks that they were programmed to do.

Or well, this was how things used to be. Back when Bonnie was here. Now Monty took his place. Every banner and poster had his face on it. He completely replaced him. Even on the huge main sign of the Pizzaplex. Perhaps this was the reason for Chica’s unhealthy food addiction. She’d be next to be replaced. And she just witnessed how easily replaceable she and her friends really were.

(Y/N) was there since the beginning, watching them and taking care of all of them. Not judging, only caring. Treating them as equals. It made Monty feel a certain way. He didn’t know these feelings or understood them, but he knew Bonnie felt the same way towards her. Only was she closer to him. Way closer. Yet again, something that he can’t have.

And now they stood there, just staring at each other. Complete silence. 

He was furious. He didn’t even know why. The smallest things caused this. Perhaps a string of his bass broke. But it wasn’t really HIS, was it? Or maybe it was him losing his shades again. The shades that didn’t originally belong to him. So, he started smashing stuff in his green room. Bonnie’s former green room. Nothing is truly his, is it? There it was. The reason. The anger. 

And now before him stood the fourth “not his”. Something he knew he couldn’t just break and get a replacement for. A human can’t be rebuilt after all. It took everything in him to not lash out on the spot. To dig his claws into her flesh and leave bite marks all over her body. Instead he just stood there, silent. Getting a little closer, just close enough to read her vitals. She was nervous…she was scared. He took notice of her watch, it was empty and turned off. Meaning she couldn’t call for help even if she wanted to. What good would help do anyway? Before anyone could reach them it would be too late. Why was he having these thoughts? All he knew was that he had to remove himself from the situation right now or else bad things would happen.

And so he did. Walking past her. Stopping for a short moment to look at her. He wondered what she felt when she looked at him with these shades, the bass or the stupid room. Would it bring them closer eventually or drift them apart further? Did she see a part of Bonnie in him or an imposter who forcefully took his spot? Maybe she had the mercy to just think of him as the killer of her lover. 

Continuing on his way towards Gator Golf, she was left alone. Still, she stood there, her heart eventually calming down but thoughts still racing. She was sure she was one word away from getting torn apart, but god, she wished she spoke it.

[alltimefail-sims]

Okay friends I need to talk about this little girl for a second because Shereé is so!!!!! freaking!!! cute!!!!! I can't stand it!!!

I didn't want to take the spotlight off of Terrance in my main submission post, but let's talk about Shereé a little bit!

Fun headcanons about the Chapman family below the cut! ❤️❤️❤️

When I was dressing her up and adding little details to each outfit category I wanted the baubles in her hair to be different colors to reflect my vision of Shereé sitting cross-legged on the living room floor while Terrance sits on the sofa behind her, swapping each one out to match her outfit for the day. 🥺💕

Also you can't really see them super well in the screenshots but she is wearing diamond studs in the shape of her favorite cartoon character, Hello Kitty! I imagine they were her first "big girl" earrings - the first ones she got to switch the standard piercing studs out with - and they were a birthday present from her dad!!

Speaking of ear piercings: when the Claire's associate pulled out the piercing guns Terrance was more scared than Shereé was lmao. He might have shed a tear or two because (1) when she initially flinched at the pain he nearly died and (2) he was hit with the overwhelming feeling that his baby girl is growing up waaaaaay too fast!

Shereé is kind of a picky (and bougie) eater and that's what got Terrance into cooking in the first place!! He was a chronic doordasher before she came around! When Shereé tries something at a restaraunt and likes it, Terrance enjoys the challenge of making the dish at home "but better." He's successful about 45% of the time 😒 (lol).

I said in the OG post that Shereé wants to be "a superstar" when she grows up and that's because she loooooooves to sing, dance, and play her piano! I imagine she would be a drama club and choir girly, but if ballet was a thing in game she would do that as well! I also imagine she goes to weekly private piano lessons. She's just super damn talented and Terrance will tell anyone and everyone in the vicinity about it!

Terrance lets Shereé try out her new nail polish colors on him and sometimes they will even play spa, dress-up, makeover, fashion show, etc. Terrance does not GAF about boy game this girl game that he's just gonna play and make his daughter happy!

Like her peers she was not immune to the TikTok influencer Stanley cup madness unfortunately, but she is "Way too mature" to bully anyone! But tbh if Terrance found out she was being a bully over a damn cup he would toss that shit in the trash with a quickness anyway 😂

Shereé can be heard saying "You're too grown for that daddy" at least once a day. He will never escape the childish allegations, not even from his own daughter lmao.

When I went into their household in game the first autonomous thing Shereé did was complain about the heat... so I guess she doesn't like summer very much and especially doesn't like hot weather 😂

Also I got an ask about how to pronounce Shereé and I would pronounce is SHER-RAY as opposed to SHER-REE, if that makes sense. (I couldn't find a video with this specific pronunciation but if you've ever seen The Real Housewives of Atlanta I believe Shereé Whitfield pronounces it like this as well!!!)

Okay I'm gonna shut up - I've gotten the oversharing about these characters out of my system (for now). I'll end this with the cute popups they got about each other in the literal miniscule 5 mins I spent in their household:

Obsessed with them, genuinely and truly. My heart can't take it

***Please ignore that her accented 'e' is missing from the whims. I was just testing the household. Her name is correct now <3 These sentiments were too cute not to share though

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡heartache 🫀

"whatever happened to the young, young lovers?"

lee x eater! reader | word count: 1,980 words

summary: as you and lee unwind for the night after feeding, some unexpected guests make it the worst night of your lives....🫀

warnings: some scenes in this may be triggering or uncomfortable. please don't read this if the following themes make you uncomfortable: angst, mild gore (not rlly but-), blood, death of a character, very mild intimacy, themes of c@nnibalism (it's bones and all-), some strong language/ cursing. let me know if i left anything out!

note: this is so LONG, I'M SORRY- i swear i tried to make it shorter, but the ideas kept coming 😔 also, this is my first time writing about someone getting sh0t and about c@nnibalism, so sorry if it seems inaccurate or rushed. anyways, enjoy my terrible attempt at angst 😀 

the sound of running water filled your ears as you waited for lee to finish up in the shower. the two of you had just come back from feeding, tonight's victim having been some drunk asshole who catcalled you while you and lee were walking around town together. as always, lee took his wallet and any valuables he had on him and drove you both back to the abandoned but usable house you two called home. for now at least.

"shower's free." the sound of lee's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. you turned around to see him in a pair of cargo shorts and a white tank top, his strawberry red hair still a bit damp. you caught yourself staring at him for a little too long, looking away from him when the two of you made eye contact. you nodded your head, mumbling a quick "thanks" as you stood up, already shedding your crimson stained shirt and balling it up in your hands.

the feeling of warm water on your skin soothed you as you scrubbed away the blood, sweat, and grime on your skin, turning off the water after a few minutes and stepping out. you stood in front of the sink, picking at the dried blood under your fingernails and brushing your teeth. you looked at yourself in the mirror, your exhaustion evident. it was difficult to keep living like this, but it was necessary, as if you'd die if that animalistic hunger were left unsatisfied for too long.

once you get dressed into sweatpants and one of lee's shirts, you stretched as you made your way into the living room. a pair of arms wrapped around your waist from behind, causing you to let out a soft gasp. lee pulled you closer, your back against his chest, his chin resting on your shoulder. "looks like someone's pretty touchy today...but then again, when are you not?" you teased, reaching one of your hands back to play with his hair. lee laughed softly, pressing a soft kiss to the base of your neck. "well, you just got out of the shower. you're warm and you smell nice, so i couldn't resist" he muttered, burying his face into your neck. you couldn't help but laugh once more as a shiver ran down your spine, his hair tickling your skin. "i see you're wearing my shirt, [y/n]" he whispered, slowly pressing more kisses to your skin. one of his hands started to mess with the hem of the shirt you wore, slipping up into it and gently caressing your soft skin. "lee~" you mumbled, letting your eyes flutter closed, your heart skipping a beat. 

just as things were about to take a rather intimate turn, there was a loud knock on the door. the two of you jumped, glancing at the door, then at each other. "are we expecting anyone?" you asked, frowning a little as the warmth of lee's hand disappeared when pulled away from you. "no...stay here, i'll go check." lee made his way over to the door, glancing through the peep hole. you noticed the way his jaw tense up and the way his body froze for a second before he pulled away from the door.

"who is it?" you asked, starting to feel a bit nervous yourself. lee had started pacing around, checking around the house for anything out of the ordinary. he grabbed your bloody clothes and shoved them into a trash bag, tying it off and stuffing it under the sink. "lee, can you please tell me what's going on?" you asked, unease settling over you. "it's the fucking cops. we have to leave, now-" lee was cut off by another loud knock, and a few voices from behind the door. "police, open up. we'd like to ask you a few questions." a man's voice said. a woman's voice could be heard as well. "i swear i saw them come here! they were covered in blood, from head to toe!" shit, someone saw you coming back from your feed.

you were frozen in place, as if your feet were glued to the floorboards. you couldn't believe this was happening. you two had been so careful. your heart was beating in your ears so loudly, you didn't even realize lee was calling your name until he grabbed you by your shoulders. "[y/n]! we have to go!" he yelled and you were pulled back to reality. you slowly nodded your head and began to grab a few things you really needed and stuffed them into a bag. the knocking got louder and it seemed like the officers would break the door down any minute. lee grabbed your hand and pulled you out through the back door, the two of you quietly making it into lee's pickup. he fumbled with the keys as you glanced ahead, getting a glimpse of the cop cars in front of the house. lee finally got the key in the ignition and turned it to start the engine....to start the engine....why wasn't the engine starting?! "dammit! the engine's stalling!" lee yelled as he turned the key and pressed on the gas. "what? no, no, no, that can't be happening now!" you cried. you could see the officer still trying to get into the house, your heart dropping to your stomach as you saw one of them running towards the truck. "lee, come on we need to go!" "i'm trying to, the stupid thing won't start!" you felt panic and fear flood your mind as you saw the officer get closer, a few others right behind him. "lee-" "[y/n], i know, i see them too-"

the engine rattled and creaked still, your palms getting sweaty and you throat tightening. "LEE! GO NOW!" right as you screamed, the engine sputtered to life and lee put the truck in reverse, pressing on the gas. he quickly pulled out of the backyard, speeding down the road. you turned around as you heard police sirens and saw flashes of red and blue lights. a loud popping noise got your attention and you looked in the rear view mirror. when the truck swerved a bit before lee regained his grip on steering wheel, you realized they were shooting at the tires. "we're gonna have to ditch the truck..." lee muttered, driving for a few more minutes before pulling over to the side of the road. the two of you got out, lee grabbing your hand and leading you through the thick trees of the roadside woods. you two ran, the footsteps of the police in your ears not long after. "don't stop running!" lee yelled as the two of you tried your best not to trip over roots and tree stumps. as if this couldn't get any worse, there was a loud bang, causing you scream. you didn't turn around, your feet moving as if they had a mind of their own. you didn't want it to end like this. not like this.

you felt like you'd been running in circles, all of your surroundings starting to blend together and look the same. the loud sound of gunshots rang in your ears and you felt something warm spilling over your skin. you looked down and stopped running as you realized you'd been shot twice, once in the side and once in the back. the pain of it finally hit you, like a burning sensation that just wouldn't stop. you stumbled to the ground, lee's eyes going wide.

"oh god- [y/n], stay with me!" he murmured, his hands shaking as he saw the shirt of his that you wore getting soaked through with blood. "l-lee, you go...i'll just...slow you down-" you grunted, the pain dull and aching, but excruciating. lee took off his tank top and tore it, wrapping it around your middle and tying it off. "i'm not leaving you here." "but-" "i said, i'm not leaving you here!" lee exclaimed, offering you his shoulder as he helped you stand.

it was painful, but you managed to get deep enough into the woods, the cops off your trail for now. your breathing was labored and your face twisted as you groaned in pain. lee undid the makeshift gauze he'd made with his tank top and lifted your shirt. oh...that wasn't good at all. you were bleeding profusely, it seemed like you'd been shot in the spleen. you'd coughed up some blood too while running, so the probability of a lung being hit from behind was high. lee was panicking, bunching the torn tank top up and pressing it to your wound. "h-hold this still, i'll go- i'll go get help. you'll be fine, alright? we'll get you to a hospital!" you could see tears forming in lee's eyes, your heart breaking. you knew you wouldn't make it, not like this. you reached out and took his hand, squeezing it as you took slow breaths. "....eat me...." you mumbled, the color draining from lee's face. "what? no. no, i can't do that, [y/n]!" he stated, shaking his head. "please lee, i'm...i'm not gonna make it-" "yes you are! stop saying that!" lee cried, tears already blurring his vision. you slowly reached your hand out and cupped his cheek, leaning over. lee met you halfway and kissed you full on the lips, and you could feel him pouring every ounce of raw emotion and love he had for you into this one kiss. your cheeks felt wet as you both cried into the kiss, a shaky sigh leaving your lips.

this was the last time he'd ever get to kiss you, the last time he'd ever get to hold you. he'd never be able to wake up with you again, nor go to bed with you. he'd never be able to hear your laughter again, he'd never be able to run his fingers through your hair again, he'd never be able to tell you he loved you with all his heart again. this was the last time. you pulled away, resting your forehead against lee's, his blue-green eyes full of desperation and so much love for you. "wouldn't it be better than watching me suffer, hm? ....if you really love me, i want you to eat me.....bones and all. consume me whole so that i'll be apart of you forever." you murmured weakly, watching as lee's eyes shook with unease. finally, lee let out a shaky breath, leaning in towards your neck. he pulled the shirt down your shoulder, a soft sob leaving him. he then started to press a few soft kisses to your skin, his teeth eventually grazing over it. "i'm sorry..." he whispered between kisses, your hand moving to his hair. "it's okay...." you breathed out, preparing yourself for what might be the most painful but also most precious moment of your life. "i love you...." "i love you too...." you choked out, swallowing thickly as you felt lee bitting down on your neck, starting to add more pressure.

a hot feeling of intense, shredding pain ran through your neck as lee began feast on you, your warm blood filling his mouth. you could hear him crying as he did it, wincing as you screamed and cried in anguish. he held you still, moving in to take another bite, another piece of his heart breaking. the pain was so overwhelming, you felt yourself getting lightheaded, your vision going in and out and your breathing getting uneven. before long, your hand fell from his hair, your body beginning to go limp. it felt like someone ripped lee's heart out and stepped on it, his sobs getting louder. it should have been him, if only it had been him. lee didn't stop and continued to consume you, his lover, who was everything to him. and now, you'd be apart of him forever. 🫀

© m00nkissedlover, 2024

[punks-never-die205]

Talking about Kid and Killers past..what are your thoughts on Victoria and her dynamic with Kid & Killer? The "curry Udon accident" makes me really wonder 1. Because Victoria beat them up and never talked to them again just because of this little shit 2. Both Kid and Killer are so traumatized after that they hate Curry Udon until today

👦🏻👦🏻🧑🏼👀

So fleshing out what we know of Kid and Killer and Victoria:

A few assumptions I have is that the three of them were friends for at least a year or two. Where Kid and Killer knew each other, we'll say, when Kid was 4-6 and Killer was 8-10, they meet her when Kid was closer to 10.

Imagining they spent a good two years as just friends - probably ribbing Victoria for being a sloppy eater the entire time, leading up to the Udon Noodle incident.

We don't know an exact time-line, but "first crush" and the fact that Kid and Killer basically took over the entire island before setting sail because of her death, I'd say that Kid was probably 12 or 13 when the udon incident happened.

He and Killer ribbed a little too hard because they were crushing on Victoria, but didn't really know how to do that. After she lashed out and stormed off - in the time it took her to cool off, and probably Kid and Killer time to cool off too and realize they'd been being jerks - she's killed by a criminal before they could all reconcile.

It's a terrible scenario at any age, but a heavy hitting one at Kid and Killer's age. It spurs the decision to take over the island basically, and eventually vaults them out into the ocean.

I think Victoria talked about getting off the trash heap of an island a LOT. Maybe Kid and Killer just figured that was there lot in life, but in comes Vickie and that little whirlwind changed everything.

anyway, I don't think they dislike curry udon because they dislike the taste or texture or smell - I think the memory of that being their last meal with their friend before she was murdered is why they hate it.