#actually i DID have a french friend who i sort of wanted but I HATE ALL THE OTHER FRENCH

[nunalastor]

I figure it’s about time I start to shout in the void(your ask box)

So here’s some HC I have:

Alastor has high pain tolerance. He’s good at knowing when to heal but he tends not to because he doesn’t notice it, so surely it’s not that bad. Vox, Husk and Rosie usually have an immediate reaction if he says he’s in any sort of pain. Rosie because they’re friends and she knows how Alastor is, Husk because he cares for Alastor on the down low(he still hates the guy but he’s a little fond of him) and Vox because he’s used to it from when he and Alastor were friends. They all know that if Al’s “sore” he’s actually dying. (Cue immediate bells for Husk when Al says he’s too tired to do something for Charlie after the Adam situation).

Alastor actually came to hell with white hair(deer genes). Hated it so he dyed it red. He accidentally set his hair on fire while trying to style it immediately after dying it so he had to emergency cut it hence the bob. Seems like the type to become fond of things quickly, so the bob stuck to the horror of literally everyone around him.

Husk can only speak the 7 languages fluently when he’s drunk. When he’s sober he can only speak 2 fluently; English and French. Ties in with my hc that Husk grew up in Louisiana before his family moved to Las Vegas. (purely so I can have him sing Friends on the Other Side to the hotel crew in my head).

Husk sneaks in more modern music into Alastor’s radio playlists that sound older than they are. This includes Tom Lehrer and medieval versions of modern music; Alastor knows all the lyrics to Montero but only the medieval version.

Charlie and Lucifer get weirdly territorial of the junk food in the house. It’s a remnant from when they would fight over the cereal when Charlie was younger, which was a fun game then but slowly got more serious as Charlie got older. It’s especially bad when they’re tired and/or hungry. Angel and Vaggie are the only ones allowed to take the food away when they’re fighting, Vaggie for obvious reasons and Angel because he can run fast. Husk can too technically, since he can just fly, but he doesn’t really want to(lazy). Same goes for Alastor(enjoys the show).

Vaggie gets really embarrassed when someone points out something nice she did or when her outfit is cute. Heaven expects everyone to always do good and look good no matter what so it’s only noticed when you aren’t. She doesn’t know how to respond to compliments or thanks so just freezes.

Niffty likes helping cook food, though she isn’t actually allowed to come close to the stove(she knocked a pot of soup over once, never again). She’s always happy to cut vegetables or deconstruct poultry.

Angel “anonymously” gives the hotel residents gifts as thanks for letting him hang around. They’re usually hand made and he tends to throw them at the person saying that “someone gave it to him and he doesn’t want it”. He thinks he’s slick but he’s not.

And of course, a cursed one: Alastor had a serving cunt era when he first arrived, where he kept with the times for like 1 year and wore scandalous clothes(like idk a backless blouse or, god forbid, an ankle length skirt) and a corset for his back problems. He got immediately embarrassed after he got over it and killed everyone who ever saw him, hence the overlord killing spree. He doesn’t wear a corset anymore, instead opting for a more discreet ensemble involving silk lines(like rope but flat?) that doesn’t impede his movements as much as a corset. His 7 year break was because he found an old photo of himself online and hid himself in shame. He eventually made a deal with someone to erase any trace of his phase from everything but his own memory. It’d be funny if that person was Velvette lol

👀👀

#hazbin hotel #alastor #nunalastor asks #husk #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #vaggie #angel dust #niffty #velvette #that was the most tamed cursed thing we've ever received

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Don't Fear the Reaper [Part 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Rook Hunt Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: 'Hello Darkness, my old friend. I see you've come to stalk my store again.' Or, why fear Death when you can just Pavlov him with cookies into carrying your groceries?

A/N: Based on this wonderful brain rot from a very lovely anon! Continued apologies to anyone who actually knows French, because I do not lol. So Rook's babbling is all Google baby

[PART 1] [PART 2]

“I hear you’ve been dealing with an infestation.”

You arched a brow and pointedly settled the last of the little, strawberry, tarts into its box with a heavy plap. You took your time piping a neat dollop of cream on the top and then fixing the tiny sugar berry adornments into a smiley face.

“You’re free to call the health inspector,” you intoned, handing over the box. “That’ll be ten copper, your highness.”

Riddle’s face went as red as the dessert in his hands.

“Don’t call me that!” he hissed, ducking back further beneath the hood of his cloak. The cloak that was clearly made of the finest, crimson, silks money could buy. The one with real gold embroidered along the crisp edges and an ivory clasp shaped into a literal crown. 

You shrugged. At least he’d moved past demanding outright that ‘of course he wasn’t the prince! How dare you! To think yourself so presumptuous! As if royalty would ever even consider visiting this hovel of yours! Off with your head!’ Those had been a fun few weeks.

You poked around in your stacks upon stacks of baked goods and unearthed a little, cherry, cookie. You slipped it into the box alongside his tart and hoped that counted as a metaphorical pat on the head. There, there, little lord. This humble one will tell no one of your secret, commoner, shames.

Some of that choked-red color started to fade from his cheeks, and Riddle accepted the offering with an expression that on any normal person you might have called a pout.  

“I was trying to be tactful,” he spat, tucking the bribe further into the packaging with a stiff twitch of the fingers. “But I don’t know why I even bother.”

You shrugged again and made brief eye contact with the terribly unsubtle guard stationed at your front door. Cater, or Carter, or something like that. He greeted everyone who walked by with a cheerful little wave and a wink. He was charismatic, and loud, and apparently—as you had discovered when you’d tried to hand him a little slice of cake as a consolation treat for putting up with his charge’s emotionally constipated nonsense—hated sweet things with every fiber of his being. You didn’t trust him for a second.

The pair of you locked gazes over Riddle’s shoulder, and his lips quirked into a smirk that was sharper than it was fond. Ah. So it was one of those days, was it?

“Is there something else you wanted?” you prodded intentionally, as Riddle turned to make his retreat.

The Prince paused for a moment, and you watched his teeth worry a bit at his lower lip—a nervous habit he claimed forwards and backwards he absolutely did not possess. After a moment of silent deliberation, he straightened his spine into something stiff and regal.

“There are rumors going around that your business may be suffering from a… pest problem,” he said, like he was chewing over each word individually. “And while I firmly believe that people should endeavor to work through their own problems, if this is indeed a problem…” he paused, hands tightening a bit around the pastry box tucked neatly between his palms before looking back up to meet your gaze with that harsh sort of determination that always made him seem very much like someone who ought to be ruling over entire kingdoms. “I’m certain the Royal Family would be more than happy to come to the aid any of their subjects, should they ask for it.”

You ducked your head in a nod that you hoped was the appropriate level of polite for such a declaration.

“Your concern is appreciated, your high—”

His face twisted up in a sneer and you beamed.

“—Highly esteemed customer,” you finished with a chirp. “But I’m perfectly capable of crushing a few cockroaches.”

Riddle nodded at you tightly and made a swift exit. Cater flicked his fingers at you in a half-salute and the pair continued on down the cobblestone street and out of sight.

“Do you actually have pests here?” a tiny old lady asked from her place perusing your shelves. She looked like an onion that had been left in the sun for a couple dozen years, and the question seemed kinder than it did probing. Like she would happily help you hunt down the little buggers herself. “Roaches, I mean…?”

“Oh no,” you reassured. “It’s much bigger.”

You watched the poor thing nearly go into conniptions and offered her a cup of fresh chai on the house.

.

.

As much as you had kindly reassured your most affluent patron otherwise, you were indeed suffering under the aforementioned ‘pest problem.’ And while your squishing abilities were normally the stuff of legend, you didn’t think there was a boot big enough in the whole world to rid you of your current guest.

“Quelle très belle matinée! And made all the better by my dearest friend!”

You grunted and let the door slip shut with a tinkle behind him. Rook nearly bounced to your oven and peered inside with all the eagerness of a wide-eyed child. You’d long since learned not to bother yanking him back from the flames. They never even seemed to warm his pale cheeks, let alone melt him into the puddle of charred goo that they rationally ought to.

“Macarons?” he chirped, and turned to you like he was waiting for a Good Noodle Sticker. He leaned closer, and you watched the sputtering heat sway around and away from him like a tangible thing. He sniffed a few times, looking thoughtful. “Flavored delightfully with that lovely rosewater syrup you were steeping last night?

You hummed in affirmation and handed him a little almond cookie for his efforts. It felt a bit like training a dog.

The first time you’d told a dejected looking Rook that he could eat his treat in your shop rather than using it an as excuse to punt him out the door, he’d practically glowed. And had apparently taken the offer as an extension of a permanent invitation. He still waited patiently at the front door each morning, still marveled at the merry jingle of the bell when you allowed him entrance, and always wiped his feet. You’d hoped a bit that perhaps overexposure to your meager, repetitive, livelihood would have him eventually bowing out from boredom. But if anything, he seemed to have become more enamored with your dealings as the weeks passed.

And now that you’d given him express permission to hover, his originally vested interest had become outright sticky. There was no more plastering himself distantly to the window when he could go and literally shove his face into an oven, or perch himself at your shoulder like a wide-eyed owl as you tried to whip egg whites into peaks without repeatedly elbowing him in the gut. He puttered after you like a duck quacking for its mother, spouting off every question under the sun about temperatures, and consistencies, and the merits of baking powder versus soda.

“And these are meant to be… burned? Yes?”

“Dehydrated,” you sighed. “And not these. You’re thinking of the meringue cookies.”

“Ah, I see. Those crunchy delicacies from yesterday that looked to be little clouds,” he hummed, nodding along. The feather on his hat bobbed over a hot coal and sparked with embers. You reached out with a frustrated huff to whack the walking fire hazard back into a gently smoking mess rather than the start of an outright blaze. “Merci, merci!” Rook trilled as you beat him with a damp towel. Black soot floated through the air like dust motes under the sun, and he grinned through your grouchy manhandling as he always did. “Ahh, cher pâtissier! You always do dote on me so!”

You were about to argue back about how keeping him from unintentionally annihilating your entire kitchen was not ‘doting,’ when your eyes trailed over something strangely gunky and off colored stuck on the back of his cloak. You leaned forward to pluck up whatever it was, and Rook’s fingers flew out to snatch up your wrist before you could even blink.

“Please pardon me, mon cœur!” he beamed, the lines of his leather gloves a soft weight against your flour dusted skin. “I have tried to be most diligent in keeping myself clean for our morning rendezvous! But alas, it would seem I’ve missed a spot this time around.”

Part of you was sorely tempted to ask what—who—had apparently dirtied his robes. But you decided ultimately that it was still far too early to be discussing the remnants of the unfortunate victims off his hit list, and honestly you really weren’t sure you would have cared even with another four hours of sleep and a full mug of caffeine in you. So you waved him off and went back to worrying over your spice racks and tallying cups of flour.

Rook pillowed his chin in his hand and watched you putter about with a sigh that sounded far too besotted for anyone’s good. Those eerily green eyes of his seemed to glow in the lowlight, and he only gushed even more ridiculously when you launched a wet rag at the mess on his back and demanded he mop up his own nonsense or get out.  

.

.

You didn’t realize that Rook was slowly staying later and later into the day until Ace came by to collect your weekly booklet of receipts and would not step through the door.

“What are you, contagious?” you harumphed, pointedly leaning over the threshold to shove your collection of bits and bobs into his waiting hands rather than stepping out into the street to join him.

“More like superstitious,” he snipped. He crossed his arms and gave your shop a pointed once over. “I thought Egg Boy was overexaggerating, but you really just…” He waved his hands around his head for a moment before letting out an angry huff that sounded a bit too much like an overboiled kettle. “Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?!”

“You literally ate raw dough off my floor less than a month ago,” you accused.

“I already told you I didn’t know it wasn’t cooked!—And that’s not the point!” he seethed. “Don’t you realize who that is?” he continued, voice dipping into one of those angry whispers that was never really a whisper.

You rolled your eyes and turned to shout over your shoulder. “Rook Hunt?”

The blonde instantly perked up from his place perched by the counter, where he’d very clearly been watching this entire exchange with a lazily curling grin.

“Oui! However can I be of assistance to you, my lovely, darling, pâtis—”

You turned back to Ace.

“Yes, I know who he is.”

“—And of course I know who you are as well!” Rook barreled onwards, slipping forward to drape himself along your shadow like a cat might settle itself into a sunbeam. He never leaned on you outright, but he always made a point to get close enough that he may as well have. “The wonderful artiste who has shown me nothing but the greatest kindness! Ah, mon humain préféré! With your endless hospitality and words sweeter than even the finest of the confections you craft!”

Ace’s expression twisted up like the very idea of another living being considering you to be even halfway pleasant was a war crime. Which, you know, totally fair. But before your redheaded acquaintance could continue with his appalled gaping, Rook leaned over your shoulder with a smile that looked not quite right on his face. The wide brim of his hat obscured your view of the rest of him—casting the remaining slopes of his sharp features into inky darkness.

“And but of course, I know you as well, Monsieur Trappola!”

Whatever rotten, sour, look Ace had been pulling froze over into something nearly deathlike. He went so pale so quickly your thoughts swung back to wondering if maybe he really was contagious with something.

Your shaky friend? Fellow gossip? associate audibly gulped, but when neither he nor your leech of a guest said anything further, you prompted them both with a vaguely curious, “Oh? You’ve met before?”

“Not recently,” Rook trilled, sounding positively delighted. “But I suppose I am familiar with everyone in this petite ville one way or another.”

You hummed, not particularly satisfied with that non-answer of an explanation. But your brief bought of inquisitiveness was quickly being overshadowed by the very real risk that Ace may actually topple over frothing at the mouth and twitching like a rabid racoon at your doorstep. Which would no doubt be terrible for business.

“You better get going,” you prompted, debating giving him a shove with your foot. “Before you start running behind on your pickups.”

“Right…” Ace muttered, swallowing past a lump in his throat. “I should—I’ll be doing that. Leaving. I’ll be leaving.”

“Adieu, Monsieur Trappola!~” Rook called, as the door slid shut with a pleasant tingle. “I’m certain we’ll be seeing you!”

There was a lingering, creaking, da-dong sound from overhead and you wondered idly if maybe there was something a bit off with your bells.

.

.

That afternoon, after you finally heaved an exhausted sigh of relief and flipped the ‘OPEN’ sign at your storefront to ‘CLOSED,’ Rook was still perched on the little stool you’d set out for him. The late-day sunshine cast him in all sorts of unfamiliar shades of gold, and while the shadows beneath his feet had always seemed to stretch a bit long and sit a bit oddly, they twitched even more strangely in the glow of the summer light. You blinked at him in open surprise, and he blinked back at you.

“What are you still doing here?”

“Mon chéri, I am always here!” he chirped, and you rolled your eyes towards the ceiling in a silent bid for patience.

“No you’re not,” you argued. “I think I would have noticed.”

Rook held a gloved hand to his mouth to smother a laugh and shook his head at you like you were just the funniest little thing.

“As you say, my tenacious pâtissier.”

You sighed and moved to untie the ribbon of your apron. “Whatever. I suppose I could use your help anyways. I need to run to the markets.”

The Bounty Hunter’s eyes lit with that familiar, sparkling, enthusiasm and he clasped his fingers in his lap with a gust of breath that sounded like it rattled every one of his bones as it squeaked its way out of him.You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. You hoped he hadn’t caught whatever mystery ailment Ace had been sagging under when he’d arrived at your door that morning.

“Shopping!” he outright beamed, putting the glitter of the afternoon sun to shame. “Une nouvelle aventure avec mon amour! Et en journée! Temps à passer avec—”

“Enoughwith your nonsense,” you groaned, tossing your dirtied apron onto a free hook. “Do you want to come or not?”

“But of course! I would be most honored to—”

You shoved a wicker basket into his hands and hurriedly moved to usher him out the door before he could begin monologuing in earnest.

Rook walked the familiar path to the markets like a tourist on holiday—stopping every now and again to wax poetic about the way that a potted flower looked in the afternoon light, staring in awe at each bizarre crack in the pavement as if it was a natural marvel worth gawking at. He muttered something dazedly under his breath at one point about ‘what messes might embed themselves in these fissures of the earth,’ but you carried on like you’d gone blind and deaf. A skill you’d become incredibly proficient with as of late.

When you finally arrived at the little hub of stalls, there was an audible gasp from somewhere in the thin crowds. You decided once again that you were better off feigning impairment and pushed onwards as if you had no idea that people were parting around you and your new companion like the pair of you were riddled with plague sores. The gossipy man who sold you your favorite strawberries went a bit green when you approached, and you continued merrily with your farce.

You had only just leaned forward to get a better look at some of the berries you tended to hoard like a dragon to gold, when suddenly the bright reds and blues beneath your fingers went nearly grey—nearly rotten. There was a long, sharp, shadow curling along the fruit. Rook was hovering at your shoulder, as he of course tended to do, and you glanced between him and the twisting, creeping, darkness swallowing the contents of the little stall in front of you. Clearly it was his purple-clad frame blocking the sunlight and casting all these weird shadows, but it was still a bit bizarre. It was like the brightness itself was being sucked from the afternoon, rather than just the cool play of the light that it ought to be.

You reached out curiously to poke a finger into the dancing bits of darkness and were surprised to find that it felt like something solid. A tangible sort of bite against your skin. Something sharp, and cold as the grave—

“Perhaps the melons, mon cœur!” Rook chirped loudly, redirecting your prodding with a cheery nudge. “They smell enticingly ripe.”

You hummed, your musings on the unnatural settling into the back of your mind in favor of reaching out to give the fruits a good shake. They did feel quite nice.

Rook swayed a bit at your shoulder, and you glanced up at him with an arched brow.

“Are you alright?”

“I do not often spend time in the sun,” he admitted, and you blinked once again at those lanky shadows before turning on him with a tight, little, frown.

“You should have said something,” you scolded. “I would have brought you a—” your eyes landed on his wide brimmed hat and its cheerful, black, feather as it bobbed in the breeze. “…never mind. But you still should have told me.”

“Ah, your worry is a balm upon ma pauvre âme!” he crooned, resting his palm against his heart. “What has a wretched creature such as I done to earn such warm regard? And alas—what then could this poor beast do to maintain such a blessing?”

“He could help me find a bag of milled flour for one thing,” you sighed, hoping to derail the burgeoning soliloquy.

“But of course!” he chirped and immediately darted off around a corner to hunt down what you’d asked of him.

You gathered up a heaping portion of fresh berries (back to the their healthy, summer, glow now that your shadow had been sent away), and ruffled around in your bag to retrieve the coppers needed to pay for your haul. The vendor reached out a shaky hand to clasp at your wrist and you raised a brow at him curiously.

“Are you okay?” he hissed, still a very unpleasant shade of sea-sick.

“Are any of us really?” you intoned blandly, and dropped the required coins neatly on the cart.

You’d only just turned back around when Rook came trotting back through the rows of carts—three gigantic sacks of flour tossed over one shoulder. It looked absolutely ridiculous, with the mass of them rising far past his head and setting his hat at an awkward slope.

“That seems a little excessive,” you sighed.

“Non, non!” he argued. “You are nearly out! There will certainly not be enough to prepare both the croissants and that lovely chocolate cake you were planning to make.”

“Oh,” you blinked, and mentally tried to tally up whatever had remained of your provisions. He was probably right—you’d gone a bit overboard experimenting with different types of pretzel dough. “You don’t mind carrying that, do you?” you asked with a furrowed brow. “That all looks like it weighs nearly as much as you do.”

Rook chuckled pleasantly under his breath, and somehow managed to dip forward into a bow that didn’t end with the enormous sacks balanced atop his shoulders spilling forward all over the road.

“It would be my pleasure, mon cœur,” he smiled, very nearly a purr.

You shrugged and went back to meandering contentedly through the stalls, happy to push all of the menial physical labor off onto someone who seemed more than delighted to relish in its ache. Rook trailed merrily at your heels—the sun heavy at his back and highlighting each step with those dripping, inky, shadows. The faint outline of a ragged, hooded, robe brushed nearly unseen through the dirt, broken only by trailing, white, puffs of loose flour.

.

.

.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #My Writing #Rook Hunt x Reader #Rook x Reader #Rook Hunt x Yuu #Reaper!Rook #Monster Mayhem #Fantasy AU #Rook Hunt #Riddle Rosehearts #Cater Diamond #Ace Trappola #Monster Mayhem Rook Part 2

[pinkbubbles06]

Rosekiller Headcannons:

Pt. 1

Some of these are my own and others are ones I agree with so if some seem familiar that’s why lol. Enjoy!!!!!! Gosh I love them so much. I need like a semi canonical fic of them stat.

* I like to think that Barty was the sweetest of souls when he was younger, but the constant abuse from his father and the cold world damaged him a lot. He also is bipolar so ya know…. Uhhh… yeah…😅

* Barty has long and slender fingers and it would always drive Evan nuts when Barty would wear rings on his hands and nervously play with them

* Barty also developed a tick/constant habit of darting hit tongue out of his mouth to wet his lips. Evan never learned why he did it but found it oddly endearing.

* I feel like Barty couldn't fall asleep without like a million pillows. Unless he had Evan. He would have the best sleep of his life when he slept with Evan.

* Barty will Call Evan Dimples

* The Infamous Three™ know French so they talk in it when they want to say shit about other people.

Evan knows German but rarely uses it.

Barty knows Italian and oh boy, his Italian. Evan got so hard the first time Barty started talking in Italian that he thought he was going to cream his pants. Barty talks in Italian when he drinks which is Evan's worst nightmare since Barty becomes even more flirty when drunk. Every time Barty calls him "mio amato" (my beloved), Evan MELTS (he stills swears he is straight™ and not completely in love with Barty).

When Barty wants to talk about Evan without being pried on, he talks on Italian. Reg knows Spanish and they make it work.

* Barty is Scottish and Evan is French.

* Barty picked up a bunch of languages by the age of 15 because his father decided it was mandatory for his son. Crouch Sr. canonically knows around 200 languages

* barty loves the snow. he could spend hours out in the cold without a warming charm if it weren't for his friends getting onto him about him possibly getting sick. he loves sledding down the hills at hogwarts, racing his friends to see who wins. he always does. he also likes snowball fights, building a snowman, and making snow angels. it was something him and his mother cherished so he likes to bask in those precious memories when he can.

* conversely, evan hates snow. his faces crinkles up at the sight of it. he makes sure he bundles himself up and uses warming charms as much as he can. most of the time he sits watching his friends enjoy the snow, throwing snowballs at each other. then barty just shows up with that damned smile of his, his eyes full of wonder at the snow falling down. barty will shoot him a grin just before he throws a snowball. sure, evan hates the snow, but he does genuinely appreciate how happy it makes his boyfriend.

* it is a matter of fact that Barty and Evan spoiled each other constantly, with materialistic things or with kisses and hugs.

* Evan’s birthday is June 20th

* Barty loved to doodle. He would sometimes just grab a marker or something and gently and carefully draw on Evan’s hands or arms. Whichever was easiest to doodle on at the time.

* Barty is secretly a book worm and could talk for days on end to Evan about what he reads.

* Evan isn't much of a reader but he will read anything if Barty suggests it to him, because he absolutely loves seeing him ramble. Barty will also annotate books for him when he borrows them. Don’t get him started on the love poems.

* Barty is so smart. But like in the doesn't need to try smart - tests come easy to him sort of smart

* Evan is completely and totally scared of all bugs ever, and he has to get reg or barty to kill them when they get into the dorm. Barty will sometimes terrorize him by bring the bug really close to him in his hand. Evan screams bloody murder every time. Barty gets such a kick out of it lol.

* When someone asks Barty if he wasn’t something to eat, he’ll say ‘you’ in a deadpan tone (mainly to Evan)

* Evan is possessive as fuck, he will actually glare anyone down that even looks in Barty's direction and will proceed to plan a murder.

* Evan was just a little bit more unhinged than Barty was at Hogwarts. But after school, and after he was a legal adult, Barty let loose and they were both unhinged together!!😁

* Barty and Evan share beds a ton, and the first time it happened was because Barty was having a hard day and Evan snuck in and held him through the night,

* Barty also has nightmares and instinctively looks for evan when he wakes up; Evan is always there

* Barty secretly proposed to Evan when they were 16. No one knew about it. Ever. And no one could ever tell because they almost always both wore rings. So they were engaged until Evan died, because they never got to get married because of all the “no gay marriage!!” In the 70s/80s

* I like to think Barty fell first but when Evan fell for him too Barry’s love grew deeper once he had him. So basically he fell first and he also fell harder.

* Barty never holds people's hands, he just wraps his fingers around their wrist. Friends or Lovers.

Evan has no idea why, maybe it's a preference or something?

Barty actually does it to check if the person he's with has a pulse and is real, a small reassurance for his anxiety

* evan has brown eyes, and barty collects rocks when they match the color perfectly. He’s kinda like a crow that way. He will find things that remind him of Evan, or that make him think of him, and he will give them to Evan. He keeps every single one.

* Barty has deep emerald green eyes.

* Evan adores it when Barty runs his fingers through his hair. He gets shivers down his spine every time.

* They both actively tried to summon ghosts

* Evan has like really bad circulation so he's like ALWAYS cold. And Barty is always a furnace

* Barty would often just bite Evan’s shoulder. Evan eventually go a tattoo of Barry’s bite marks on his left shoulder.

* Harley Quinn and Barty Crouch Jr. are interchangeable and you cannot convince me otherwise.

* Like, “what’s that I should kill everyone in escape? oh sorry, it’s the voices… I’m kidding!!! that’s not what they actually said.”

* Evan would often put his hand on Barry’s throat and Barty lived for every second of it. The Horny Bastard.

* I just know that Barty and Evan had so many dramatic break ups over the pettiest things

* They did it so they could have hate sex🤣🤣

* Barty would always tell Evan that he hopes that he would die first. He always said he never wanted to live in a world where Evan wasn’t in it….

* The skittles(Barty, Evan, Reggie, Panda, and Dorcas) all made an unbreakable vow that only death would do them part… and it did…

* Everyone thinks that they can’t stand each other when in public, but alone, or just with their friends, they are literally unbearable

* Evan wears baggy clothes and Barty wears tight clothes. Fight me on this.

* Also Evan has the sluttiest waist known to mankind.

* The fist Slytherin party that Evan actually danced at, he was so insecure. So Barty convinced him that no one was looking at Evan and that they were just looking at Barty. And after a few drinks, Barty had convinced Evan of that and he just let lose. And holy shit were they hot together. Kinda like the song by Sabrina carpenter if u know what I mean….

* Like, Barty would say “They aren’t even looking at you Ev, they’re looking at me.” Then Evan would say, “But I don’t want them to look at you Barty.”

* Evan took his shirt off a few times at a couple of party’s and literally all eyes were on him but he didn’t care cus Barty was there, Hands tightly secured to his waist and glaring at anyone who even glanced at Evan.

* Barty is a pyromaniac, and when that happens only Dorcas and Pandora can settle it. Evan can too but he usually just enables him🤣

* When Evan goes missing it doesn’t take Barty long to figure out he is dead. It totally sent him off the deep end and caused him to put all of his devotion into the only thing he had left, Voldemort.

* Also, once he found out Evan was dead he went straight to Pandora. She was the only one of their friends would would even think about talking to him. He was miserable, he wouldnt leave his room at Pandoras house for days.

* I am also completely convinced that Bartemius Crouch Sr had Evan assassinated after he found out about him and Barty.

* Like you know how canonically moody was trying to take him prisoner, but Evan was fighting so damn hard that Moody had to kill him. I think that was his order along. You can’t convince me otherwise. that is what happened.

* When he is posing as Moody, Barty finds out about this and kills his dad because of it. And also because of the god awful abuse. Duh.🙄

* Also, a little before torturing Alice and Frank Longbottom, Barty tried to obliviate himself so he would just forget Evan and Regulus because the pain of losing them was too much. In his attempt, because his emotions were so high, he messed it up and he went insane. This also caused him to halusenate Evan and Regulus. The halusenations of them were the ones who convinced him that Alice and Frank killed Evan. (Barty already knew how Regulus died.)

* Regulus told Kreature to tell Evan and Barty how he died, knowing they would keep his secret. And they did until they died.

#harry potter #marauders #the marauders #dead gay wizards #dead gay wizards in the 70s #regulus black #dorcas meadowes #pandora lovegood #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #barty x evan #regulus and evan and barty #barty jr #barty crouch sr #mad eye moody #wizard #hogwarts houses #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #rosekiller headcanon #headcanon #rosekiller #engaged #engagement #they both die at the end #they are all dead #I love them so much Oml you don’t understand #rose killer #Barty loves the snow #Barty is a bitter

[napoleondidthat]

I Went, I Saw, I’m Back….

Today was Napoleon movie day and I lived to come back and report.

You know how you go into a movie with super high expectations when you have heard it’s the best thing ever, then inevitably find it less than you expected? The reverse happened a bit for me, everyone had hated this so my expectations were low, and though the movie is problematic, because everyone I read was losing their minds, it wasn’t that bad.

That is not to say it was good.

So for me it’s a mixed bag of stuff. Things I liked and and things I did not.

The main problem with the movie is that it tries to fit everything in it and therefore nothing works because everything is trying to be in there. Since they try to cover everything, nothing is covered and everything suffers, including the flow of the movie. It’s one of the movies that I felt like I could see what they were trying to do, and maybe it would have worked if they didn’t slam everything in there.

So this is going to be a bit scattered because my thoughts are scattered. And warning: spoilers will be discussed.

I wish they would have just skipped the French Revolution altogether and assumed the audience had a working knowledge of it. Shoehorning it in didn’t work. We have a brief scene of Marie Antoinette running the halls with her children trying to escape arrest to then a fade out of her execution. Yes, it’s all wrong, she is too defiant, her hair is too long, her dress is wrong. I get what they are going for here and a defiant Queen is probably a bit more dramatic than one who apologizes to her executioner for stepping his his shoes. Napoleon in the crowd, even though he wasn’t really there, works in the dramatic licensing department and his reaction was actually good.

Then we are whisked to Napoleon getting into a meeting with Barras, who acts as a sort of a narrator to the audience to catch them up on the state of things and Toulon. What I dislike in this film is that they introduce the characters by flashing their names and titles on screen. Ugh. I do not like this. Napoleon gives his plans on what he’d do with Toulon and Lucien (he’s been mistaken as Joseph in some reviews) acts as interpreter to Barras over what Napoleon just said (What my brother is saying….) .

There is a bit of time spent at Toulon with Napoleon walking around the place and even melting cannons for new cannons. The British are brutes who yell at him calling him a “shitbag” and yelling at the locals to move their “fucking goats!” . No, they really had wandering goats.

The battle is intense. Now, I know a lot of complaints have been filed due to battle inaccuracies and too few of them. This isn’t a problem for me. I am not a scholar on Napoleonic warfare. I am a wimp when it comes to blood and gore. I dislike seeing people blown up but even hate seeing horses blown up more. So one of the first casualties of Toulon is Napoleon’s beautiful white innocent horse. It takes a cannon ball to the chest and it’s graphic and it makes me want to do a cry. The horse falls and Napoleon is thrown but regains his composure to go fight with one on one with some a combatant until someone else decapitates the guy with a sword.

One battle down more to go.

Barras magically is on scene to literally crown Napoleon general with a sword like the Queen knights people. Napoleon wanders away to his poor dead horse and fished out the ball lodged in the chest and hands it off to I think Junot with instructions to give it to someone. I thought I heard “for mother” but that can’t be it….can it?

Now we are back to revolution stuff and Robespierre is being denounced. Why are we putting this in here? It’s too…whatever. He runs out of the chamber, tries to shoot himself when he can’t shoot the chamber and of course just ends up wounding himself in his jaw. Barras pops over to put his finger in the wound (ew sir) and tells him he missed and off to the guillotine for you “dear friend”.

Enter Josephine. She escapes her prison in her dramatic cloak where she is hugged by a nameless woman.

Enter Napoleon being instructed by Barras on the civilians uprising. There is a scene of Napoleon wandering through a crowd of citizens shouting long live the King. Napoleon places his cannon, the citizens line up and then boom! More bloodshed for everyone. People are mowed down, blood spray. The back crowd runs off and the camera pans to a woman trying to crawl away with her severed foot in the street. No horses dead thankfully.

Back to Josephine in her cloak walking empty Paris streets and looking at various overturned debris. Is she just walking the streets for days? Is she coming upon the whiff of grapeshot? We don’t know.

Napoleon is now wandering around a Survivor’s ball. The lighting is gorgeous in here. Josephine has ditched her cloak for a dress her boob might escape from at any moment. She’s sitting with Barras with her insane asylum haircut and red long gloves and red ribbon neck decoration. Napoleon looks bored. Later Napoleon is still wandering around and Josephine is hanging out gambling. She notices Napoleon starring at her and confronts him. Here we meet Josephine with her dramatic British accent and Napoleon’s awkward American one (but it strangely fits all the same). She asks why he was starting and there is some back and forth but no lines from the trailer with her “has the course of my life change Napoleon?” Instead Napoleon tells her not to tell him her name and she stares at him and wanders off to gamble some more I guess. What?

Next is the scene with a very small Eugene doing the probably made up Napoleon myth scene of “Can I have my father’s sword please sir?” Napoleon and Junot have been throwing shit at the wall before this for…reasons. Napoleon explains to Eugene that he can’t give back the sword because citizens can’t have weapons. The boy says it’s a rememberance of his dead father. Napoleon asks what he is doing there and the boy says his mother said that Napoleon could. Napoleon then goes to a room with loads of swords that were taken from the executed officers. Napoleon asks if anyone thought to put names to them but no, they did not. Napoleon grabs a random sword and heads to chez Beauharnais. There everyone seems to know him, including the help, and he gives the maybe sword back to Eugene. Everyone thanks him and Napoleon tells Josephine that he gives his compliments to the house chef. ???

Now Napoleon has random meetings with Josephine that I guess is supposed to be their abbreviated courtship. Josephine stares into her makeup mirror and wonders aloud to her maid (Lucille) if she looks in love. They have random conversations about how her husband was executed in front of his mistresses. How she tried to get pregnant in prison to save her life. Will any of this bother Napoleon? Napoleon answers “no, madam”. She flashes him her nether regions and Napoleon just stares. Awkward. Some old lady behind me in the theatre went “oh!”

Oh well then it’s time to get married.Josephine has the fastest growing hair in the history of the world. Last scene she was a mental patient, now her hair is shoulder length. They are giddy, well Napoleon is, at the register’s. They are sure to share Josephine’s real name but then announce that Napoleon was born in February. What? Didn’t he just change the year and not the month of his birth? But none of it matters since they never discuss their age difference anyway.

They have a dinner party where Josephine flirts with Hippolyte Charles with Napoleon glowering and then we cut to the sexy time scene where Napoleon and Josephine have sex doggy style! Oh God. Cringe. Napoleon talks of having a son. Napoleon is very broody in this movie.

Napoleon is now in Egypt. Italy is mentioned only in a letter voice over where he happily informs Josephine that he was victorious in Italy. He wonders why she isn’t writing. Insert scenes of a naked butt Charles romping in bed with Josephine. Napoleon and the mamalukes line up by the pyramids and Napoleon fires the cannons. They hit the pyramids and then he just wanders away. Is this the battle? Lol One mamaluke falls off his horse. No horse casualties.

If you ever felt that General Dumas never got his moments to shine, well he is in this movie. He’s not singled out, you just have to know it’s him. He accompanies Napoleon to see a mummy. Napoleon looks at the mummy and goes to touch it’s cheek and the mummy shifts away from his touch. Is this like some omen that like Josephine, even dead mummy’s don’t want Napoleon touching them? Lol

Junot later informs Napoleon while they eat that Josephine is unfaithful. Napoleon tells Junot that he gets no dessert and to leave, which he does. They later meet up again and Napoleon tells him he’s off to France.

Napoleon lands to fanfare in France and greets the crowd with smiles and waves. He gets in the coach, finds an English paper making fun of him and Josephine’s affairs. He waves at people out the window. He arrives home to No Josephine but dogs! There are a lot of dogs in this movie that is a win for me. He questions Lucille on her whereabouts, throws wine at her and tips a chair over. Josephine arrives to her luggage in the yard and she goes to the locked door and….next scene she is in tears and Napoleon is yelling. She is a “selfish little pig” and how could she do this…why didn’t she think of his feelings? Josephine says sorry and Napoleon makes her say she is nothing without him.

The scene cuts to the first of many scenes of Napoleon sitting awkwardly on the couches with their heads on the back cushions staring at each other. Lol. Can’t they sit normal? What are these two adults doing? Here Josephine makes Napoleon recite to her that he is a brute that is nothing without her and “your mother”. Oh boy, Napoleon is a mama’s boy too.

Napoleon has a meeting with those in charge which is a great scene of him telling all of them that they aren’t fit to run France. They accuse him of deserting his army in Egypt. He points out one by one why they can’t serve getting to one man and saying “though you can scowl very well!” He marches out saying that they have nerve questioning him when they have ruined France and he has found out his wife is a slut.

Napoleon has brunch with Sieyes and he invites him to a coup. Scenes follow of the various men being arrested or asked to step down. One man tries to escape by running up the stairs and then getting into a slap fest with two soldiers. Dumas arrests another man who says he can’t believe this he was just about to have a “scrumptious breakfast!” Dumas escorts him out leaving his hysterically crying wife saying “enjoy your breakfast”. Talleyrand tells Barras of his dismissal to which Barras says he will gladly go back to being a private citizen.

The coup is hysterical. But it was, wasn’t it? Napoleon gets manhandled and runs away falling down a flight of steps and barricading the door from the mob. He can barely stand up. Now I know some of this rubs scholars the wrong way but the coup was about as good as this. Napoleon was given a horse that he couldn’t control and was almost thrown off.

Now Napoleon is talking to Caulaincourt who talks to him about the czar. This scene actually works well. Napoleon walks around questioning and using his knife to hack away at the furniture.

Napoleon confronts an ambassador and screams at him. Here is where he shouts “you think you are so great because you have boats!”before stomping out. It is laughable but again, Napoleon was known to do this at times. He did kick one ambassador in the stomach once for no reason.

Talleyrand says hey why don’t you become Emperor. Napoleon laughs and pinches his ear.

Napoleon leads an older woman around. You guessed it! Mama is on scene. Napoleon walks her over to Josephine where Madame Mere says “This must be Josephine!” They nod at each other and then Madame Mere says “Is that Charles?” and wanders off to talk to Talleyrand. Who knew they were friends?

Napoleon still is broody. He walks in on Josephine dressing and acts like a horse, baying and stomping the ground. Josephine dismisses the maid and says “you nasty man” and more doggie style sex! She tells him her nether regions are his. Cringe.

Napoleon the next morning questions Josephine on why she isn’t pregnant. She makes excuses but says she has been busy cleaning up his messes. Napoleon whimpers again, crawls under the table and grabs her.

It’s coronation time baby! No lead up, just happens. Hippolyte Charles is there to give the evil eye to the imperial couple. Josephine looks at him as she walks by. Barras comes out of nowhere to get a prime seat up at the Dias. The pope is pretty enthusiastic proclaiming Napoleon emperor. The end.

Now Napoleon is watching David paint his portrait with a model as Talleyrand says he needs to divorce.

Now we are at Austerlitz. This is beautifully shot. There are lots of blood in the water and sadly dead horses. This doesn’t seem to be a lake they are falling into, but the ocean as they sink sink sink forever.

Now Napoleon is chatting up Emperor Francis.

Now there is a montage of happy Napoleon and Josephine moments. Napoleon plays with a dog while Josephine smiles. Napoleon and Josephine share a bath.

Now Napoleon and Josephine sit at a dinner party and Napoleon asks in front of everyone why isn’t she pregnant? Awkward. Josephine says there hasn’t been much love making in the place. Awkward. Napoleon’s mother is even like “ew”. Napoleon says that is a lie. There has been years and years! Josephine fires back that he is a fat fat fatty. Napoleon says that is true, he likes to eat, destiny brought him this lamb chop. Josephine throws food at him. Napoleon throws food at her. She throws more. WTF is going on here? No lie, an older man behind me in the theater whispered in this scene to his wife “he’s probably been putting it in the wrong hole. “

Madame Mere is the one and not Caroline to tell Napoleon she has rounded up a girl for him to see if he can get her pregnant. She says it’s time to know who is at fault. Napoleon and she drink brandy while Napoleon studies his feet. She says the girl, Elenore Denuelle, is waiting for him naked in the bed. Napoleon asks if he can have another brandy. He pauses at the door while mama shooes him in.

Next scene Madame Mere tells Napoleon the happy news of Elenore’s pregnancy.

Napoleon and Josephine have an awkward stare conversation sliding down on the couch.

Napoleon announces over dinner with Josephine the divorce. She tears up but then laughs. Napoleon leaves in a huff.

The divorce scene. Josephine has tears rolling down her cheeks. Napoleon sniffles and roughly wipes her face and his. He reads his statement. Barras is also somehow here too. Standing in the audience like a bad omen. Napoleon scolds Josephine to read her statement. She can’t get through it because she keeps laughing. I guess we are going for hysterical laughter but it plays wrong. And of course the history is that she cried so much she had to have the statement read by someone else. Here she gets slapped by Napoleon to her shock and everyone else’s but still laughs her way through it.

Josephine leaves in her carriage and lands at someplace that is Malmaison but is not Malmaison. She walks around gloomy. Napoleon visits her and puts his hat on her head. Tells her to cheer up.

Napoleon chats with the Czar and tries to marry his sister.

Napoleon is now meeting Marie Louise. Now the casting is all screwed up. Napoleon ages through the film but for some reason Josephine never does. Josephine is taller than Napoleon even though she was in reality shorter. Marie Louise is a black haired little thing when in reality she was taller than Napoleon.

Napoleon is given his son. He cries. He’s been wanting a kid for a long time, man. Napoleon takes the baby to Malmaison to visit Josephine who looks like for a second she might throw the baby over a Cliff.

Napoleon is off to Russia. Cossacks attack. Napoleon rips off little pieces of bread to his troops as they walk by. They fight at Borodino and Napoleon is leading a Calvary charge but what the hell? He’s wearing his Italian uniform. Since when did fat Napoleon get into his closest and grab up his ornate uniform? My guess is that this was meant to be Italy, they scrapped it for time and used this footage for Borodino thinking no one would notice.

Napoleon find Moscow abandoned including the Kremlin that has apparently been abandoned for decades as pigeons have taken over the place and have shit all over the czar’s nice throne. Napoleon fits so he sits. Birds continue to shit on it. I think this is supposed to be some poetic metaphor.

Napoleon wakes up flames. He comes out and asks who did this. Luckily the marshals are all there waiting and inform him. He wants to march to Petersburg. They tell him no because of winter. Napoleon puts his hands over his ears and then screams into his hat. Chill man.

Napoleon marches back in snow. Dead people. Men eating horses. Not the horses!!

Oh Napoleon is abdicating. That’s quick. Surprisingly Barras is missing from the audience.

Napoleon lands on Elba and parades around. Josephine greets the Czar and dances with him in a really stupid dress. Malmaison is always cloudy with fog and rain. Always. Every scene. Napoleon sees a paper on Elba that mocks him about Josephine entertaining the czar and him being cuckolded again. But they are divorced? He beats the paper on the table. He then writes to Josephine and tells her that he is coming back to France to reclaim his stuff including her. So I guess we don’t care about Marie Louise or baby anymore.

Btw, Josephine should be dead by now.

Josephine is shown being ill and the doctor telling her to open her mouth. He says her chest is congested and her throat inflamed and recommends going to bed. But she says Napoleon is coming over and over again. I don’t think Josephine ever called a Napoleon Napoleon either.

Napoleon gets on ship and lands on French soil. Kisses it. Josephine dies. Finally. Too late.

Napoleon greets his troops. They go to his side. He lands at Malmaison and learns from Hortense that Josephine is dead from diphtheria. Napoleon is mad at her. Why didn’t anyone tell him? He wants her letters that he wrote to her. Hortense says the valet stole them and sold them. Napoleon cries. Hortense apologizes and Napoleon says he forgives her. For what though?

Napoleon is at Waterloo. Rupert Everett is Wellington but all I can think is damn he’s old. I remember when he was a heart-throb in movies and now he’s old Wellington. Battle. Dead horses (no!!!) dead men. This is the longest battle filmed.

Napoleon is on the Bellerophon giving a class to a bunch of boys. Wellington for some reason comes for a meeting and Napoleon and he are rather friendly to each other. I wonder where Barras is? He could be here. He wasn’t. But he could be. Wellington dashes Napoleon’s hopes of remaining in England and tells him he will be off to St. Helena “a rock really”. Napoleon laughs.

At long last, Napoleon is on St. Helena with a voice over with Josephine talking to Napoleon. Next time she will be Emperor and he will have to listen to her. Napoleon is shown washing his face. Napoleon is shown drinking wine at his desk while plantblow out of the ground outside his window. There is a dead fly in his wine that he fishes out. Napoleon is at an outdoor table while Betsy Balcombe and some other girl fence with sticks. Napoleon grills them on the capitals of Europe. They do the Moscow story. How it was burned to get rid of the French. Napoleon asks who told them that and then throws dates at them as they run back to play. Another voice over from Josephine. She tells Napoleon she has prepared a place for him why doesn’t he come? We see Napoleon’s back and his famous hat from the back as he sits at the table. Come she tells him and we will try again. Napoleon drops over dead. Well, that’s not how it went but okay.

Jesus. That was a lot. I will do my final thoughts tomorrow.

[callsign-bunnie]

You know what we talked about and discussed. Give me it, or I’ll break your ankles

-🩵(Blue)

You know, Blue, if I had known you would threaten my ankles, I don't think I would have agreed to write this /J

Anyway, thanks for helping me brainstorm ideas while I took a break last week (and thanks for the Bribe of ten dollars to write something on my Red List. I dunno, might have to take this off of it. I enjoyed writing it a lot.)

--

Phillip Graves, a young bright eyed alpha marine, who was taking a vacation in Mexico. He was between deployments, and a few of his buddies had mentioned heading to Mexico for the summer while they were off, and he’d tagged along.

He wasn’t super close friends with any of them, admittedly, he didn’t even really like many of them. Maybe, in some arrogant way, he believed they were beneath him. He knew his worth, he knew exactly where he wanted to end up, and most of them were content to just follow orders.

He would follow whatever orders he was given, for now, but he knew, in his head, that he was destined to be better than them.

Regardless, he got along with them. They weren’t too horrible to be around and he knew having friends was important. (It wasn’t that he couldn’t make friends, either. He actually had quite a few, but none that were also in the military.) So, he would hang out with them. And, he actually liked Mexico.

He’d been born and raised right in Dallas, Texas, so his family had taken several vacations down to Mexico growing up. He was pretty sure his father still owned a timeshare at a resort that was down there, too, though he refused to take advantage of it. That was another way he differed from his military buddies.

Pride.

He’d never admit to having too much of it, but his buddies seemed willing to ignore their own for any sort of personal gain. He wasn’t. He knew what kind of alpha he was, and he wouldn’t put that aside for anything.

“Phil.” 

He hated when they called him that, but he put it aside and turned to look at one of his buddies, raising an eyebrow. He was a sort of pudgy alpha, despite being in the military, and he didn’t really like him that much. He disliked him more than any of the others, at least. He didn’t quite seem to grasp his own insignificance. He was… self important, and not in the way Graves was. 

His name was Braeden, too. Graves… didn’t think commentary on that was all too necessary. When he didn’t continue to speak, he sighed softly and gave a sort of strained smile. “What’s up?”

“We were heading to a bar. Want to join? Since it’s the last day we’re here.” Braeden gestured to the four others. They were already at a bar, the hotel bar where they were staying, but… well, he didn’t mind moving to a different bar. 

“Sure.” He nodded, getting out some cash to pay for the singular drink he’d already ordered, and closing out his tab. He thanked the bartender, not bothering with Spanish. He’d tried to learn, took a few classes in High School, but he just couldn’t grasp it. French had been no problem, Spanish on the other hand?

It should have been easy, he knew, but… he just never had. 

Once everyone else had closed their tabs, Graves went back and tipped the bartender where they didn’t. It paid to be the “good” one and… well, he knew his mother might smack him if she saw him watch his friends not tip and didn’t do anything about it. Honestly, she might have still smacked him for the fact that he didn’t verbally correct them. But… he wasn’t in the mood.

As he stepped outside, he shielded his eyes, looking around for his buddies, and heading to the car they’d rented when he saw it. He did walk slowly, enjoying the feeling of sun on his skin. He loved that about the military, he loved being outside, he loved being ankle deep in dirt or mud. 

He loved getting his hands dirty.

When it was clear his friends were getting impatient, he half jogged to the car, getting in the back, and sitting next to Shawn. He didn’t mind Shawn, in fact they’d often shared an eyeroll at Braeden and Grant, the other,’s expense. Shawn was a lot more down to earth, he seemed to get it a lot more than they did.

He had a lot of similar values that Graves did, about how things were. What was expected of them, what they wanted. Granted, Shawn didn’t seem to have the same drive that Graves did, but he wasn’t without it. He wanted to move up, he wanted to be something, and he was willing to put in the work. Graves admired that.

They shared a look as Braeden immediately started to sing along to whatever was on the radio. Braedon couldn’t speak Spanish, either, though, so it ended up mostly sounding like he was yelling babble. 

Graves was very grateful that the car ride hardly lasted longer than ten minutes. 

When they made it to the bar, he followed them in. Of course, they sat at the bar, and the first thing Graves noticed was that the bartender was an omega. He smelled like cinnamon and brown sugar, but like it’d been melted to make the syrup his mother would use for cakes and pastries. 

He was slim, short, and… gorgeous. Big eyes lined with black, short curly hair that bunched around his head and shook as he moved, and a white button down top that was slightly unbuttoned to reveal smooth skin that Graves definitely pulled up a few images of running his mouth over.

Fuck.

Well, he considered his options. Grant was mated, Shawn didn’t seem to take a huge interest in omegas, and… Braeden was… Braeden. Fuck, Braeden might try.

He glanced over at Braeden, seeing he was nudging Grant and making a suggestive face while gesturing to the bartender, who had just promised to be with them in a moment. Braeden might embarrass him and then, even if he doubted Braeden had a chance, Graves would definitely not have a chance.

It was moments like these that he regretted his resolve to try to make friends. 

Finally, the bartender came over, smiling at them. It was a pretty smile, he was clearly young. Graves couldn’t be that much older, since he was only 26, but he’d put this bartender in the 20-21 range. “Hola, I’m Lucas! What can I get for you?”

Braeden opened his mouth, “Hola, chico-”

Graves resisted slamming his head directly into the bar top, just settling on giving the bartender a strained, sympathetic smile. He saw Lucas’s eyes almost go empty, his smile went just the slightest bit plastic, and Graves definitely agreed with the sentiment. 

Braeden, thankfully, just continued. “I’d love a margarita and your number.” Nevermind, not thankfully.

Lucas laughed, softly. “Sorry, I don’t have international calling.” He mimed making a phone call. “Limited phone plan.”

Graves, despite not being religious, prayed that Braedon would just take the loss and move on, but he didn’t. “That’s disappointing. How about what time you get off?”

“Maybe just the margarita.” Shawn spoke up, eyes rolling, and Graves decided he’d have to get him a gift or something as thanks. “Come on, man, just leave the poor omega alone.”

Braeden huffed and muttered something under his breath, but he was on the other side of Grant so Graves couldn’t hear. Shawn then continued, “sorry about him. He wasn’t outside trained. I’ll take whatever beer you have that comes in bottles.”

Lucas smiled, looking grateful, and he crouched for a moment, producing a bottle of Michelob a moment later. Grant ended up just ordering a paloma, speaking low to Braeden. It appeared he was soothing Braeden’s ego, which Graves tried not to roll his eyes at. His ego didn’t need to be soothed.

It was his turn to order, so he smiled at Lucas. “I’m in the mood to try something new. What do you suggest?”

Lucas appeared to give him a once over. “Do you think fruity drinks?”

“I’ll drink whatever you give me,” Graves half grinned, leaning forward a bit. “If you make me something fruity, I’ll enjoy it.”

“Oh? Whatever I give you?” Lucas leaned forward as well, getting this little cocky grin on his face. Fuck, Graves wanted to ruin him. “Hmm… Ever had a Paloma? It’s like a margarita but with grapefruit instead of lime.”

“I love grapefruit.” Graves answered, and then finally leaned back again. “I’ll take it.”

“Perfecto.” Lucas fully grinned and nodded. “Alright, so one margarita, two palomas.” He started to get out the things to make them and Graves avoided Braeden’s eye, practically able to feel his glare.

He could also scent him, even with the small distance, which had him almost rolling his eyes. He shared a look with Shawn before returning to watching Lucas make the drinks. He had started to converse with another bartender in Spanish, which appeared to also be an omega. The other glanced at the four, his eyes catching on Braeden, before he was laughing softly. 

Lucas kept a pleasant smile on his face, though Graves could very easily pick up that they may have been wounding Braeden’s ego more. He allowed himself one glance at Braeden, seeing he was glaring at a napkin.

Grant leaned over to Graves, “come on, man. You didn’t have to… undermine him like that. He was clearly going for it.”

“It was painful for all of us.” Shawn shot back. “If he wants to ‘go for it’ he needs to get better at it. It’s not Phil’s fault that Braeden has no fucking game.”

“Fuck you!” Braeden hissed. “I have game, you have no idea if I was failing or not. If you hadn't interrupted, I might have succeeded.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” the other bartender slid in. “Hi, I’m Rudy. Lucas got called to the back, so I’m going to take over. My English is better, but I don’t think I know what game means.”

Braeden went bright red, but Graves explained. “It’s like play, like… fuck. Charisma?”

“No… carisma.” Rudy laughed, softly. “I do not understand how that correlates to games.”

“To be a player, you have to know how to play the game.” Grant half grinned before suddenly wincing. “I have a wife, I don’t know why I said that.”

Well, at least he remembered. Graves winced, “it’s a loose term, now.”

“Ah.” Rudy nodded and then smiled, before he appeared to finish the cocktails. “One margarita, two palomas,” he said as he poured them, garnished them, and then passed them out. “Lucas will be back if you need anything else.”

All four just nodded and Rudy headed off, sliding right up to another alpha at the bar. It was clear they were close as Rudy immediately was leaning on his elbows, grinning at the alpha, who was grinning back.

Graves didn’t care, sipping his drink, and remarking on how much he hated grapefruit. He was sure it was good to someone else, but he just couldn’t. Regardless, he choked it down, ignoring when Braeden got up and suddenly left the bar. “I’ll pay his tab.” He told Grant, who threw him a glare before also getting up and leaving. “Fine, I’ll pay yours too. Fuck.”

Shawn laughed, softly, and got out some cash. “Here. I’ll… go babysit. Maybe don’t come back to the hotel until late.”

“Don’t worry, I have no plans to.” Graves snorted before nodding. “Have fun.”

“Oh, totally.” Shawn fake saluted before leaving, having to half jog to catch up to the other two. He saw him throw his hands out once he was outside, and he could faintly hear that he was yelling to them, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Oh well, it wasn’t his fault that Braeden completely failed his shot. He turned back to the bar, startling as he met eyes with Lucas. “Fuck!” He exclaimed before immediately holding his chest and panting. 

Lucas appeared to flush before laughing softly, “Mil disculpas, Señor.”

Graves went to jokingly respond back in Spanish, but then he remembered Braeden making that mistake, so he just… refrained. He really didn’t want to turn Lucas off by being too cocky. “No problem. I’m not easy to startle, you should be proud.”

“Hmm… Okay. I will be.” Lucas nodded and then smiled. “How did you enjoy your drink?”

“It was fantastic.” Graves grinned, “but I think I’ll just settle on a bottled beer as well.” He didn’t want to have to force himself through more grapefruit.

Lucas nodded, again, and then crouched once more before producing a beer bottle. He winked at Graves before using the counter to very smoothly pop the cap off of the bottle before handing it to him. Graves remembered Shawn having to pop his own cap off and he tried very hard not to get smug. 

“Where did your friends go?” Lucas asked, once Graves had gotten a sip in. 

Graves shrugged. “Back to the hotel.” He may not have liked Braeden, but he wouldn’t immediately expose him by telling Lucas his ego had been too bruised. 

“Ah. No hay problema, te prefiero.” Lucas gestured to Graves, but all Graves could really pick up was problema, which he knew meant problem. No hay problema meant No Problem. The rest probably wasn’t that important.

So, he just shrugged and went back to sipping his beer, focusing his eyes on the tv screen which was playing soccer. Made sense, it was the season. Then, he was glancing back at Lucas, again, who’d started to wipe down the bar. “Do you like working here?” He asked.

Lucas shrugged. “I do. Could be better, but the tips are good.”

“You speak English fairly well… Get a lot of… uh… gringos?” He’d heard that word so many times, why did he forget it? God, maybe he wasn’t that much better than Braeden.

Lucas laughed, softly, and Graves’ face warmed. “We do. Las Almas… The city of souls gets a lot of visitors.”

“That’s what it means, then? The city of souls?” Graves raised an eyebrow. He liked that, he liked it a lot. 

Lucas smiled and nodded. “Yes. More specifically The Souls. I think, at one point, it was said that we collect them. Like La Parca.”

“La Parca?” Graves frowned, not recognizing that one. “Uh… my Spanish is terrible, I’m sorry.”

“At least you admit it. Hang on, my English is not the best. Rudy!” He called before whistling, causing the other omega to look up from where he was still talking to that alpha. “Qué es la parca en English??”

“Grim reaper.” The alpha was the one to answer. “I think so, anyway.”

Graves ahhed, smiling as Lucas turned back to him. “Las Almas collects souls?”

“Used to. Cartel violence drives them away, now. Mi familia and Rudy’s family are some of the few left that have been here for generations.” Lucas explained, wincing. 

Oh. “Ah.” He murmured and looked back down at his beer, frowning when Lucas got called away. Staving off disappointment, he turned his eyes back to the screen, hoping Lucas might decide to come back when he was done.

-

Lucas cursed under his breath as he realized Rodolfo had just ditched him. “I swear to God, Rudy, I’m going to fucking kick your ass if you don’t stop fucking my uncle and come back and fucking pick me up.” He hissed into the voicemail he was leaving.

He knew it was no use. Rodolfo and Alejandro were so fucking gross sometimes. He… wished he could blame them, though. Neither’s family approved of the other, so they rarely got time together, and he knew they were just trying to get whatever they could. Especially as both were Special Forces, now, so they apparently didn’t get much time while deployed, either. He wondered why Rudy bothered with a job while on leave.

Eventually, Rudy would probably be back so they could go home. In the meantime, he decided to just hang around the building and run back inside at the slightest threat. 

Sighing, he pushed his hair behind his ears, annoyed as it just fell back in front of his face. He couldn’t wait to go home and shower, exhausted. The only thoughts in his head were that of a hot shower and then falling asleep and not waking up until an hour before his shift the next day.

His eyes immediately drew to movement in the near distance, his heart picking up ever so slightly, before he recognized the alpha from earlier was right outside the front entrance, only just visible due to where Lucas was standing. He appeared to be lighting a cigarette and looking at his phone.

Lucas would admit, he’d found him intriguing. He hadn’t tried any shit Spanish on Lucas, and he’d been really nice conversation. Didn’t talk over him or even really try anything. He wished he’d been able to stick around and keep talking to him, but of course the back had him busy. He was front, he should have been staying in the front.

In a split second decision, he quickly walked to the alpha. “Hey!” He called, before making it to him. “You never told me your name?”

The alpha looked at him, clearly startled, before he was grinning. Lucas liked the way he smiled, it didn’t look rehearsed or like he was trying to be attractive. It was a real grin. “Phillip Graves. You can just call me Phil.”

Lucas flushed and then smiled, “Phil Graves? A bit on the nose…”

“I chose it.” He shrugged. “My real name is Phillip Shepherd. But… that’s not as cool. I changed it when I left home a bit ago.” Then, he winced, and looked down at the ground.

“Oh.” Lucas frowned. “I… I still live with my family. I know that Americans don’t feel the same towards family as we do.”

“No, we don’t. I… didn’t want to be associated with my father anymore.” Phil sighed. “I… don’t honestly know why I’m telling you this. I haven’t told anyone else.”

“That's okay. Me gusta ser especial.” Lucas smiled, trying not to giggle. He really did like being special, especially to alphas. He didn’t get much attention from them, so when he did, it was nice. Well… never from the ones he wanted. “I didn’t hurt your friend’s feelings, did I?” He asked, though he didn’t actually feel bad. He was trying to keep up conversation.

Phil snorted, “Braeden will be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Good.” Lucas feigned relief and then hummed. “So… where are you headed, now?”

“Probably back to our hotel. But… those plans could change at any moment.” He chuckled and looked at Lucas. 

Lucas immediately latched onto the opening, feigning disappointment. “My friend, Rudy… he ditched me for his boyfriend. So, unfortunately, I have no way home as he’s my ride.” Technically, Alejandro could be his ride but Rodolfo had banned him from driving. Lucas couldn’t drive.

Phil raised an eyebrow before chuckling. “I’d offer, but my friends took our car.”

“Damn.” Lucas pouted, though he was secretly pleased. After a moment’s hesitation, he carefully took Phil’s cigarette, taking a drag from it. He actually liked the taste, surprised to be met with a pleasant cherry flavor. “Cherry. One of my favorite flavors.”

Phil didn’t even seem that shocked by Lucas’s action, though his eyes did darken. “You know, I worry about leaving an omega by his lonesome. Wouldn’t want anyone to… take advantage of you.”

Lucas very much hoped Phil would. “I think Rudy left his car here. If you want to… keep me company until he returns.”

Phil grinned before gesturing, “lead the way.”

Lucas happily pulled from the cigarette again before taking Phil’s hand and pulling him to Rodolfo’s car. Once there, he climbed up onto the hood, keeping the cigarette. “Where are you from?” He asked.

Phil leaned against the hood, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Texas. Dallas, specifically. Though… right now, I’m a marine.”

Lucas blinked, quite surprised. “I… didn’t notice. Usually you guys show up in uniform. You also… have this way of standing.”

“I’m not that self important.” Phil laughed. “I know I’m plenty special without the uniform. I don’t think I need to rely on it to get attention.”

He definitely didn’t, he’d caught Lucas’s no problem. “I like how confident you are. But… you don’t seem arrogant.” He admitted, tilting his head. “At least… you’ve very good at hiding it. Some alphas come through and they’re so… so…” Fuck. What was the word? “Engreída. Ah… mierde. Like the… like the word for chicken?” Well, also other things, but Lucas didn’t want to embarrass himself.

“I’m assuming you mean cocky.” Phil chuckled and Lucas turned bright red. “No. I don’t want to be cocky, cocky gets you killed.”

Lucas definitely agreed. In Las Almas, you say the wrong thing to the wrong person, and they kill you with no hesitation, no remorse. Sometimes, in truly horrible ways. “You don’t seem… cocky.”

“I try not to be.” Phil shrugged. “I think… it’s important to know where one stands.”

“Your friend seemed to struggle with that.” Lucas said before he could stop himself, blushing. “That was mean, I’m sorry.”

“But accurate.” Phil laughed, throwing his head back a bit. “No, he’s cocky. Actually, you got the better end of it. He’s said worse.”

“I can’t imagine.” Lucas made a face. He didn’t like alphas like Braeden. Some of them acted so entitled to Lucas’s attention, to his time, just because they were tipping him. He’d rather work without pay than cater to them, but money made the world go round. “I prefer you.”

Phil seemed to pause before he almost appeared to blush. “I’m really glad.”

Lucas leaned forward to him, putting the cigarette to his lips and taking the last drag from it before slowly letting the smoke out, like he’d seen Rodolfo do to Alejandro a few times. “It’s cold.”

Phil tsked, softly, moving closer to Lucas. “We can’t have that, can we?” He shrugged off his jacket before wrapping it around Lucas, and Lucas just melted at the scent that surrounded him. Something floral that he didn’t quite recognize and cigarette smoke. 

He tossed the cigarette to the floor before touching Phil’s collar on his shirt, moving his eyes to look up at Phil through his lashes. “I don’t think it’s quite enough…” 

Phil chuckled, softly, moving to touch Lucas’s chin. His touch did funny things to Lucas’s stomach, causing it to flip and clench. Moments later, the alpha was leaning down and brushing his lips against Lucas’s, making Lucas’s heart flutter. “Did that help?”

Lucas pretended to think before pouting and shaking his head. “No… I do not think so.”

“Let me try harder, then.” 

Lucas just melted as he was properly kissed, turning to grasping Phil’s collar in hopes it might keep him from pulling away. Sadly, he still did, and Lucas had to put a lot of effort into not whining. “Did that help any?”

“No… It’s really cold, I think it’s going to take a lot to fix it.” Lucas fluttered his lashes up at Phil, pressing his legs together slightly. “If you don’t think you’re up to it-”

Phil laughed, loudly, and it was just the right amount of cocky. Perfect. “I’ve got it, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

Lucas grinned, victoriously, closing his eyes as Phil’s mouth found his neck, mouthing along it and biting lightly. It spread warmth and need through his skin, increasing as the alpha’s hand slipped under where his shirt was unbuttoned, feeling over his chest and lightly grasping at the soft bits.

Everywhere he touched, he spread goosebumps across Lucas’s skin, and he reveled in the feeling of it, opening his legs so Phil could move even closer. When Phil’s tongue traced over his collar bone, he couldn’t help whining softly. 

He moved a bit and shoved his hands up Phil’s shirt, feeling over his back, lightly running his nails down it and melting at the soft growl that earned him before the scent of alpha was pouring over him, soaking into his skin.

Finally, Phil’s hands moved to unbutton his shirt and then he was gently pushing Lucas to lay back, undoing Lucas’s jeans and tugging them down. Fingers found their way inside him and Lucas moaned, leaning his head back slightly. 

“You’re so slick…” Phil murmured and Lucas’s skin went dark red. “Tight too, I only have two fingers in and you’re pressing around me.”

Lucas went to respond, but the function was cut off as Phil pressed his fingers deeper inside him, able to reach his back wall with ease. He was opened up and then pulled down the hood, Phil managing to be especially talented by doing this while undoing his own jeans and pushing them down.

Lucas wiggled to make sure he was in a good position, reaching up and grabbing Phil’s arms before the alpha was pushing in. He wasn’t especially big, but Lucas was glad. Too big usually ended up hurting more than it felt good. He’d always preferred being full but not stretched to the limit of pain.

It was definitely a bit of stretch as Phil was still bigger than average, but he filled Lucas to the brim, leaving Lucas to melt against the hood and close his eyes, panting slightly. “Fuck..” Phil groaned, leaning down and putting his forehead on Lucas’s chest. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

Lucas couldn’t help the smallest bit of pride that he had at that, wrapping what bit of his legs that he could around Phil’s middle to keep him close. When the stretch was gone, Lucas rolled his hips against Phil’s, earning another soft growl. “Message received.” Phil chuckled before lifting back up, pulling out before very quickly thrusting back in. This left Lucas scrambling to clamp a hand over his mouth, not quite wanting anyone to hear.

Phil’s hand replaced his own, which Lucas was grateful for, and then Phil set an almost punishing pace, slow but sharp and hitting deeper and deeper. It had Lucas’s mind empty save for the sensation of cock and pleasure, and he cried into Phil’s hand with each especially hard thrust.

Phil’s mouth moved to his shoulder, likely to muffle his own curses and moans, and something about that had Lucas’s arousal only increasing tenfold. 

When Lucas felt his stomach clench with the need to release, he swatted away Phil’s hand so he could speak. “Knot me, I’m on…” Not wanting to struggle, he just shook his head, “the pill. Pill. I’m on it. No baby.” Fuck, his English wasn’t the best at the best of times, getting fucked definitely did not help.

Phil grunted an acknowledgement before his hand covered Lucas’s mouth again and he was speeding up his pace. Lucas felt every muscle in his body clench before Phil was slamming deep into him, his knot catching. The sensation threw Lucas over the edge and he cried into Phil’s hand as he came, arching his back to the point of cramping.

Then, as he came down, he made a pleased sound at Phil collapsing on top of him, lazily reaching up and petting his hair. “When do you go back to Texas?” 

“Tomorrow.” Phil sighed, lifting his head and looking up at Lucas. 

Lucas frowned but nodded. “Ah.” He put his head back, almost a little glad. He didn’t want to build anything with the alpha. His family would never approve and… well, he was young. He still wanted to flit around before quite settling. This was just a hookup. 

Phil put his head back on his chest, panting softly. “If I’m ever back in Mexico, I’ll hit you up.”

“Hit me up?”

“Find you.” 

“Ohhh…” Lucas laughed, softly, and then shrugged. “I don’t think I’ll mind.” He teased, since he definitely wouldn’t. 

Eventually, once Phil could, he pulled out and then he was a perfect gentleman, taking a tissue and cleaning Lucas up. He even helped Lucas get redressed before Rudy was finally reappearing, Alejandro in tow. “I should go.” Phil said and Lucas agreed. “I’d leave my number, but you said you don’t have international minutes.”

Lucas winced, since he hadn’t really been lying about that. “Sorry,” he smiled, apologetically.

“That’s okay. Have a good night.” Phil chuckled before he was jokingly bowing and leaving, right as Rudy and Alejandro made it to the car.

“Who was that?” Rudy asked, his expression curious but not judgemental. Alejandro did seem a little protective, but after getting told off by Lucas and Rodolfo, he’d seemed to curb that.

Lucas shrugged. “That gringo from before. With the ignorant friend? I told him I was nervous being out here, alone, so he stayed with me. Was a perfect gentleman, too.”

“Better have been.” Alejandro chuckled before sighing. “Come on, let’s go home. Rudy and I deploy, again, soon. So, I’m trying to get in as many late wakings as I can.”

All three laughed before they were heading home. 

-

A year passed, and Graves would be honest, he’d never quite gotten the omega out of his head. Yes, he’d hooked up with plenty of them, but something about Lucas had stuck with him. Maybe it was his eyes, which Graves had found haunting him at very inopportune times. That was… all of the time.

He’d done his best to ignore it, knowing that door was closed, but… when his next deployment had ended after only 9 months, it had been all too tempting to book a ticket directly to Mexico. Especially considering he was up for re-enlistment. 

He had no plans to not re-enlist, but he had maybe slowly gotten around to it. He could break the rules, because his father wanted him in the military, so he’d just call Dear Old Dad and get it fixed. Only thing that bastard was really good for.

But, he had managed to resist Mexico, instead working on the property he’d spent far too much money on. Family money, but… still. 100 acres, though he had plans to expand it, and it was in Louisiana, where his mother was from, so he felt more like he was at home.

Private, save for the contractors working on some of the rougher patches at the moment, and the gardeners he’d hired to take care of it when he did finally re-enlist. Maybe that was part of why he’d been thinking about Lucas. 

It was lonely.

He’d told himself that he’d wanted a little land to himself, wanting away from the stuffiness of other people, but… he was sorely wrong. It was rough waking up to a cold bed and nothing but silence surrounding him.

But, there were definitely benefits. He could do whatever he wanted, make whatever choices he chose to make. Ultimately, he didn’t regret the purchase. He told himself that, in time, he wouldn’t regret not going to Mexico, either, but… that was a bit harder to convince himself of.

Not with wide brown eyes haunting him around every corner. Muffled moans of his own name, the ghost sensation of skin, the scent of cinnamon and brown sugar syrup. It had flavored his coffee quite a few times, it was driving him crazy.

He awoke with a start to loud knocking on his front door. He awoke, as usual, to the sight of brown eyes in front of him, and he ran a hand down his face, leaning across the bed and grabbing his watch to check the time. 2:30��� fuck.

Groaning, he dragged himself from the bed, muttering “yeah, yeah” under his breath when he heard the knocking again. It was almost drowned out by the sound of heavy rain, and he decided that if whoever this was didn’t have a good excuse, he was decking them.

Whoever they were.

When he finally made it to the door, he peeked through the peephole, frowning when he was met with a bit of a shorter individual, who had their hood up, though they were still completely soaked. They appeared to be holding some sort of bundle in their arms, which had him very wary to open the door.

Open it, he still did, rubbing over his face. “Can I help you?” He asked, sighing to make sure it was clear this was an inconvenience.

“I’m so sorry…” He recognized the voice almost instantly, of course he did. It had haunted his dreams and every waking moment between. “I… I didn’t know where else to go.” Lucas was standing right in front of him, clutching something very tightly to his chest under a clear plastic rain coat, and he sounded like he was almost sobbing. 

Graves didn’t hesitate to pull him inside, unable to speak from shock. Lucas, the very omega who he’d spent the last entire year obsessing over, was at his front door, soaked and sobbing. “How did you even find me?”

“It wasn’t easy…” Lucas laughed, softly, though it didn’t have any amusement in it, and he wiped his eyes, shifting the bundle as he did so, and causing a soft cry to come from it.

Dumbly, Graves would admit, he stared at the bundle as he closed the door, his mind perceiving but unwilling to process what it could possibly be. Of course, what else could it be?

Lucas looked down, gently rocking the bundle, and finally a little face appeared in it, eyes closed. “I’m… I’m sorry… I… You don’t have to take responsibility for her, I promise, if you tell me to leave, I will go, I’ll find somewhere else, but-”

“She’s mine?” Graves asked, cutting Lucas off. He was in autopilot, reaching his arms out and taking the baby as Lucas gave her to him. She was so little, almost concerningly little. Her skin was dark, like Lucas’s, but then she was waking from being moved and he was met with bright baby blue eyes…

“She’s yours… You were… the only one I slept with around that time. I… I’m willing to do a test to prove it.” Lucas’s voice was quiet. “I won’t ask for… support or anything, I promise…”

Phil’s heart melted as she looked right up at him, and he took a moment to do the math, figuring she had to only be about four months old. “She’s darling…” He murmured. “Why are you here?” He asked, gently, and turned to Lucas.

“My family… I managed to hide it by moving out, but then they found out after she came and… they were horrible. Cut off every resource I had…” Lucas’s eyes filled with tears, again, and he looked down at the floor. “I had no idea what else to do, I thought if I came here, maybe you could help… or… I don’t know.”

“I’ll help.” Phil said, not even needing to hesitate. “I… You’ll need citizenship to stay. We’ll get married.”

Lucas looked almost shocked, staring at him before he was breaking down into full sobs again, moving forward and hugging Phil, though he was careful not to crush the baby, Phil noticed. He said thanks in quite a few different ways, and Phil just shifted so he could hug him back, kissing his hair softly.

“I’m going to take care of you both. You can stay here while I’m deployed, I’ll make sure you have money.” Phil promised, carefully guiding him to the couch and sitting with him, before continuing to stare at the little child in his arms. “What’s her name?”

“I… named her Sofia.” Lucas murmured, reaching up and brushing aside some of her hair. “She’s four months old…”

“She’ll need diapers and food… Do you breastfeed?” Phil asked, though he did feel a little lost. He’d never really been around babies. He had no siblings, no cousins, no way to be around them. 

“I’m completely flat.” Lucas admitted, touching his chest. “Stress stopped that from… forming.”

“Ah.” Phil didn’t ask about the stress, able to take a few guesses. Sofia looked around the room, her eyes just as big and wide as Lucas’s, and already Phil loved her. He adored her, she was his daughter. “I don’t need a DNA test…” He murmured. “She’s mine.”

Lucas nodded, “she has your eyes…”

Phil laughed, softly, before bringing her up and kissing her forehead. “We’ll go furniture shopping tomorrow. I have an empty bedroom I haven’t done anything to, it can easily become a nursery.”

“Thank you…” Lucas sniffled and wiped his eyes, again. “I was so scared, I- I had nowhere, I had no one.”

“That’s alright. You don’t have to thank me, okay?” Phil shook his head and then looked back down at Sofia. “I’m… not just doing this because she’s my daughter. I have done nothing but think about you for the past year. So many times, I was so close to booking a flight directly to Mexico and tracking you down. I want you to stay with me.”

Lucas looked up at him, clearly surprised, and then he was melting. “Even without her, I think I would have been the same… I was never upset that you were the father.”

“I am so goddamn grateful for that.” Phil grinned. “Tomorrow, we’ll buy everything she needs, and I’ll talk to a friend who’s an ordained minister about putting together a small wedding. We’ll get everything sorted out for you to stay here. If… you want, we can even put you together a bedroom, or you can stay in mine. I’d… really like you to stay in mine.”

“I’ll stay in yours…” Lucas leaned into him, his eyelids drooping. “I walked here… Once I made it to the city, I walked until I found you.”

“Sleep.” Phil insisted, standing and pulling Lucas with him. He guided him to the bedroom and got one of his own shirts for him, so he could sleep in dry clothing, politely looking away and cooing to Sofia as he changed. “I’ll stay up with her so she can also sleep.”

Lucas looked too exhausted to protest, thankfully, and Phil moved to sit in an armchair he had in the corner of the room, watching the omega climb into bed, and chuckling when he almost instantly fell asleep. 

He couldn’t be too angry at this outcome, not when he shifted to touch Sofia’s nose, and she wrestled one of her arms free before grabbing his finger, giggling softly. “Princess…” He murmured, adoring her more and more. “You should sleep, too.”

Her wide eyes went back to looking around the room, though she still had that big smile on her face. Carefully, he scented her, knowing she’d likely know the scent of her father. It was genetics, though he admittedly didn’t know much about it. However, it seemed to be effective, as she rolled to curl closer to Phil, her eyes closing.

He unwrapped her fully from the bundle before gently wrapping one of the blankets back around her so she could be warm while she slept. She looked so much like Lucas, he was very glad for it. 

No, he wasn’t angry about this at all.

-

“Daddy?” Graves lifted his arm, seeing Sofia was standing in front of the couch, right next to his head. “Mami said you were going again, soon.”

“I am.” Graves confirmed. When he left the military a few years before, he hadn’t told Lucas. He hadn’t told him why, he hadn’t told him that he’d started his own PMC. Lucas was still soft, he was still sweet, and Graves did not want him to know what he did. What he did on his father’s command.

Sofia pouted and Graves chuckled, softly, gently picking her up and laying her on his chest before pulling down the throw blanket and laying it over both of them. She was still so small, though this likely had to do with Lucas already being small, and Graves being small for an alpha. “Why??”

“It’s my job, princess.” Graves explained, taking her stuffed kitten from her and making it dance across the back of the couch, hoping to distract her so she didn’t get too upset. He also hadn’t told Lucas that this time, he’d be going to Las Almas. He’d almost lost his mind when he found out that those lost missiles had ended up there, somehow. 

Small world. Too small.

Sofia pouted more. “I don’t like it…”

“I know, Princess. I’m sorry.” Graves murmured, leaning down to kiss her hair. “I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to. But, it’s why our house is so big and why you can have any toy you want.”

“And why Mami can order dinner when he doesn’t feel like cooking.” Lucas came over to them both and Graves didn’t even hesitate to get out his wallet, getting out his card and holding it up. “Thank you, baby.”

Graves just snorted, unable to break Lucas of thanking him for everything. Sofia still didn’t look pleased, but she was no longer pouting. When Lucas left, she looked down at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers. “Mami cries when you’re gone. He misses you.”

Ouch. That put a spike of guilt right through Graves’ chest. “How about this, Princess. When I get back from this job, I’ll pull some strings to be back for a few months. We’ll take a vacation, to anywhere you want. Anywhere in the world.”

Sofia’s eyes got big and she put her head back fully to look up at Graves. “You mean that, Daddy?” Her eyes had never faded from that bright baby blue, and he’d grown quite the inability to tell them no. Of course… he had an inability to tell Lucas no, as well. 

“I do. Where would you want to go?” Graves gently made her put her head back to normal, worried about her neck, and he smoothed his hand over the twin braids that Lucas had put in her hair that morning. “We can go to England, France… Spain…” Not Mexico, not after what he was going to have to do. He hoped Lucas would forgive him if he ever found out. “Canada.”

“It’s cold in Canada.” Sofia giggled. “Ms Michaels says it’s cold even in the summer!”

“I’ve never been, so I wouldn’t know. But… I have heard it’s fairly cold.” Graves chuckled, giving her back her cat, finally. “Is Canada where you want to go?”

“I dunno.” She admitted, frowning.

Graves softened and then leaned down to kiss her hair, again. “Think about it, Princess. Wherever you want. When I come back, we’ll go there.”

“What about Disney World?” She looked up at him again.

Laughing, he nodded, “alright. If you want Disney World, we’ll go to Disney World. I think Mami has been wanting to go there, as well.”

“Ahhhhh!” She yelled, shaking her head and kicking her legs. Graves was careful to catch her legs, not wanting a repeat of her kicking him in places he very much would not like to be kicked in. 

When she calmed, she snuggled more into Graves, and he put his arms around her, closing his eyes and listening to Lucas order food in the other room, hearing a common order. Sometimes, he considered closing shop, retiring. He had more than enough money but…

His father would never let that happen. And, he liked his job. 

“Daddy?” 

Graves opened his eyes and looked down to meet hers, smiling. “Yes, Princess?”

“You’ll come home, right?” His heart broke at the little tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes, and she looked so genuinely fearful that he almost immediately threw everything to the wind, called his father and told him to go fuck himself, and stayed home.

But he couldn’t do that. “I’ll come home, Sofia.” He murmured, touching her forehead. “I promise.”

“Pinky promise?” She held up her pinky and he couldn’t help laughing softly before linking pinkies with her.

“I pinky promise.”

-

Phillip Graves stared at the inside of a tank, knowing he didn’t have time for this. He was being hunted, and his pursuers were far too clever. “I’m not going in, Oz.” He said into his comms. 

Oz was halfway across the world as of that moment, but he’d still helped them by hacking everything he could on base. “What do you mean, boss?”

“Oz, I get in that tank, I’m not getting back out.” He climbed down from the tank, running a hand over his face. He could hear the explosions and gunshots outside, becoming more and more chaotic, louder and louder, and he was running out of fucking time. 

Oz didn’t respond for a moment, before finally, “I can hack the tank, control it remotely. If you put a body in it, I doubt they’d even check to see if it’s you. Then, you can talk as if you’re in the tank, and lead them astray.”

“Thanks to those animals tearing up my men, a body shouldn’t be too hard to come across.” Phil muttered, very easily finding one as he predicted. He knew the first and last name of the alpha, he knew his kids’ names, he knew the name of the omega he’d married. For a moment, he considered getting in the tank, anyway. 

But, no, he couldn’t. It was selfish, it was wrong, and he knew he’d justify it later by claiming Shadow Company needed a leader, but no. He was being selfish, he was being wrong, and he didn’t fucking care. He’d never ever claimed to be a good man, and he wouldn’t claim that now. 

He stuffed the body in the tank and then sealed it. “Buy me time with it, Oz. Feed my comms to it, and I’ll talk while I leave. Can you get me a helo or a vehicle or something?”

“I’ll call Mila.”

“Do that.” Graves relaxed and then he backed away from the tank, cursing as he heard an explosion come from the doors. He needed to go, now. “I’m going home, Oz.”

“Not that I blame you, can I ask why, sir?”

“I pinky promised.”

--

Anyway, I'm more than willing to write that follow up with Liliana we joked about, if you still want it, @alexkellersgymshorts

Do you want to be added to this taglist? Reply to this post that you wish to be added to the taglist and I will start to tag you in it every time I post it. You can also use this form!

No taglist, since it's OC content and I'm fairly certain no one is signed up for Lucas (at least my magic Google Sheets is telling me no one is)

#phillip graves #alpha phillip graves #call of duty #phillip graves x oc #lucas graves cod oc #graves cod x oc #omegaverse #alpha graves cod #this is loosely inspired by an unreleased song on tiktok #no idea what it's called blue just gushed over it to me and i had ideas #queue for dinner again hunny?

[pantoneyoongi]

associative property | kth

title ; associative property

description ; every morning, taehyung drives you to school. and every morning, taehyung annoys you - until he doesn’t.  

cast ; taehyung x you

word count ; 3.4k

tracklist ; this is how u feel - loote, take a chance with me - niki, trust - thuy ft. rini, crema - youngjae 

tags ; popular!taehyung, cranky!y/n, high school!au, fluff, they’re not enemies but y/n does think he’s annoying and taehyung has no qualms with it, i don’t know a single thing about video games please forgive me, idk where this came from honestly, also this is unedited so sorry in advance 

for the record, you don’t hate kim taehyung. what you do hate is mornings, and unlucky for him, he is among the first few faces you see almost every single morning. it’s an associative property sort of thing. 

“that’s bullshit,” jimin counters, trading your pickle for some of his french fries. “you see me every morning and you like me just fine.” 

“do i?” you arch your eyebrows and he narrows his eyes back, earning a small amused twitch to your lips. “he’s just annoying, what do you want me to say?” 

jimin glances over to where taehyung is, surrounded by a myriad of friends and admirers alike. taehyung does well in a crowd - grins wide and enjoys the attention and the company. if you look close enough you might see his tail wagging, but you’re uninterested in all of that. 

“i just think you should give the guy a chance,” jimin says, corners of his lips curving upwards in a friendly smile when taehyung spots him and waves happily. “he’s actually a really nice guy, you know.” 

you bite half a french fry and mull it over for a second. 

“no.” 

.

.

.

taehyung is older than most of the kids in your class, since his birthday is at the very, very, very tail end of december, meaning he missed the cut-off to be with the kids born in his year. which means taehyung got his driver’s license before anyone else did, and being that he’s your neighbor and your parents are friends, he therefore becomes your ride to school every morning. 

so, every morning, you put up with him at the ass crack of dawn for a full ten to fifteen minutes, while he yammers away in your ear at an exhausting pace, topics rolling off his tongue without a care for the way you sink lower and lower in his passenger seat, mentally begging red lights to turn green. 

you’d think a decade of taehyung walking with you to bus stops would train you to tune him out but for some reason you’ve never been able to. you now know an absurd amount about pubg and overwatch, and while you can’t recount any of it directly if asked, you can relay the message of, this one guy’s name is StringBeanz and honestly fuck this guy, first of all who is still using a z-

it was one of few days when you’d actually respond to taehyung, interrupting him halfway. “it’s just a vegetable,” you bemoan. “what even is your username?” 

“t-h-underscore-v,” taehyung says simply. you’re at a red stop light. you loll your head towards him and squint. 

“v?” 

“v,” he reiterates, holding up a peace sign. “victory. i always win, y/n.” 

your eyes roll back and you thank every deity you can name that the light turns green. 

.

.

.

most days taehyung knows better than to approach you in school. most people do leave you alone - “you have an intimidating aura,” jimin once told you. “it makes people avoid you.”

“good,” you’d retorted back. 

you like being left alone. you like being nose deep in a book without anyone else to ask you about mundane things like the calc homework or if you saw the football team play last weekend. you don’t give one fuck about the football team. mostly because you hate their coach, who is a sexist, racist, piece of-

“hiii,” taehyung slides into the seat next to yours. most days taehyung knows better than to approach you. not all days. 

you spare him a glance then go back to your book. “hi, tae,” jimin gives him a reprieve, smiling at the boy beside you. “what brings you to us today, mr. popular?” 

taehyung grins shyly. he knows he’s popular, he’s just not so good at being told to his face that he’s popular. “my mom made fishcakes,” taehyung says, pulling out a container from his backpack. “the kind you like, y/n. i packed an extra box for you.” 

you try not to look. he doesn’t seem to mind that you’re ignoring him, just presses on. “i’m not staying late today, so i’ll drive you home. just give it back to me then, okay?” 

he doesn’t wait for an answer, just pulls out a set of disposable chopsticks and leaves it on top of the box, then bids jimin goodbye before hopping away, immediately intercepted by someone from the basketball team. 

“he’s gone, you can stop pretending now,” jimin says as he pops open the lid to the box taehyung brought you. 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter, and jimin snaps the chopsticks apart. 

“you haven’t flipped a single page since taehyung showed up.” 

you lift your eyes to look at him. he grins smugly. 

you suck your teeth and snatch the chopsticks from his hands. “shut up.” 

he whines. “at least share??” 

you flick your eyes up to him. 

“no.” 

.

.

.

jimin thinks you’re being over-dramatic when you say driving to school with taehyung in the mornings is borderline unbearably painful, and maybe most of the time you are - it’s not your fault you’re not a morning person - but you know for a fact taehyung is doing this on purpose. 

his car trudges along at a snail’s speed, as taehyung belts out but iiiii can’t heeeelp falling in loooooove with yoooouu in as deep a voice as he can muster. maybe if you had even a semblance of caffeine in you, you might be impressed by exactly how low a register he can hit, but it is 6:42am and if he doesn’t step on the goddamn pedal you might just take over his car and do it yourself. 

there’s no other cars on the road right now, which is the only reason taehyung can get away with this. you’re one more syllable away from snapping, head twisting to glare at your designated driver when his eyes catch yours, and he raises his voice back to a comfortable pitch. “take my hand, take my whole life, too,” his eyes are soft, voice smooth and warm. your heart does the unthinkable and stutters in your chest as you freeze, lips parted and eyes widening a fraction. he smiles. 

then he hits the gas, throwing his head back and bellowing as loud as he can get, “FOR I CAN’T HELP FALLING IN LOVE WITH-” 

“taehyung, for the love of god if you don’t shut the fuck up-” 

.

.

.

you’ve known taehyung since you were little. he was the kind of kid who pulled on your pigtails and ran away screaming, but then also came back ten minutes later with an outstretched hand, offering a cookie for your patience. and since at the time you had the attention span of, well, a five year old child, you accepted, settling yourself down on the sidewalk curb next to him to munch on your cookie. 

over a decade later and you’d like to think you have a little more reserve than to be bribed by a cookie, but judging from the way jimin is desperately tamping down on his laughter and the fact that you do, in fact, have a cookie - a brown butter chocolate chip cookie, practically fresh out the oven - in your mouth, maybe you haven’t changed as much as you’d like to think. 

taehyung looks rather pleased with himself, fluffy brown hair falling into his eyes as he beams, watching you as you eat. you might not notice beyond your treat, but jimin sees the way taehyung stares at you with nothing less than overwhelming affection, gaze gentle and bright. the three of you sit at taehyung’s kitchen counter, but jimin can tell taehyung can only see you. 

“take some home later,” taehyung is already packing a box for you, stacking almost all the cookies he’s made into it. “i-” 

you make a noise to stop him. “won’t your family want some?” 

taehyung pauses. “that’s okay,” he resumes. “i can always make more.” 

when he smiles at you, you ignore the shift in your chest. he presses down the clamps on the box and slides it over to you. “just give me the box back later, okay?” 

.

.

.

taehyung drives you to school every single day. he doesn’t drive you home as often, since he usually stays after school for one club or another, but some days he does. either way it means you see taehyung every single weekday, every single morning. 

[9:24pm] taehyung: hey i dnt thnk im going 2 skool tmr

[9:24pm] taehyung: thnk im sick

[9:24pm] taehyung: can u tk the bus pls

[9:27pm] y/n: sure

you don’t know what taehyung has against vowels. you peer at the messages, rereading until it hits you that taehyung is sick, so you won’t be seeing him tomorrow. you don’t think he’s missed a single day of school since the eighth grade when he caught the stomach virus that was going around. 

you frown. your mind replays the few glimpses you saw of him earlier today. he was fine in the morning, and seemed okay throughout the day, but he’d driven you home today quietly, only the radio playing to cover the silence. you’d just figured he was upset about something - it was the only time taehyung ever really got quiet - but now if you think hard enough, you can picture the exhaustion on his face when he’d parked in his driveway and murmured goodbye. 

you glance at your clock. nine-thirty is a little late to be making noise in the kitchen, but not too late. still an acceptable hour, and your parents are still up. you climb out of bed to wander downstairs, gathering pots and ingredients. 

when morning comes, your alarm goes off earlier than usual, and you curse yourself for it. but you force yourself out of bed, running through your morning routine with bleary eyes before heading to your kitchen, heating up what you’d made last night and throwing it all into a thermos before heading to taehyung’s. 

his mom opens the door, surprise coloring her expression before she spies the thermos in your hand. “did you come to bring that for taehyung, honey?” she smiles warmly. taehyung looks more like his dad than he does like his mom, but his mom reminds you more of him than his dad does. she’s friendlier, always smiling. the kind of person who is friends with the whole block, the same way taehyung is friends with the whole school. 

“i just came to drop it off,” you hold it out to her, but she ushers you inside. it’s still early - much too early for the bus. 

“go on upstairs, i know it’s early but i think he’d be happy to see you,” she guides you towards the stairs. “go on, it’s okay.” 

which is how you end up outside taehyung’s bedroom door, staring at it with your hands wrapped around your thermos. it’s not that you haven’t been here before - you’ve lived beside taehyung for almost your whole life, it’d be impossible to not have seen his room - but you suddenly feel awkward standing here, at six in the morning. you’re hesitant when you knock on his door, letting it creak open when you hear him tell you to come in. 

as you peer in, the only thing you can see in the darkness of his room is his hair, wild and wavy, the rest of him buried under a mass of blankets. you creep inside, setting the thermos down on his bedside table. 

“sorry for waking you,” you mumble. “just wanted to drop off some soup-” 

taehyung whirls around fast for someone who is sick. he winces a little and you grimace back, feeling sympathetic. he really doesn’t look so good. 

“y/n,” he breathes. “you made me soup?” his eyes are wide and innocent and grateful. taehyung’s always been earnest with his feelings, the kind of person who doesn’t really hold grudges. he’s always shrugged it off whenever you ignored him, or acted cold towards him. he just moved along, happy little smile and bounce to his step. 

“it’s just soup,” you mutter. “just - you drive me every morning so the least i could do-” 

taehyung’s fingers wrap around your wrist, gently tugging you closer to him. “thank you,” he whispers, and even though the only light coming through his room is the hallway light at your back, you can see in the dimness that he really means it. so genuine for something so small. 

it makes you shrink back, embarrassed. but you don’t want him to see that, so you try to tug out of his grasp, but surprisingly, he doesn’t let you, tightening his grip ever so slightly. his eyes glance to the clock on his bedside table. “there’s still some time till the bus comes,” he says. “just stay a little. it’s cold outside.” 

maybe it’s because you’re still sleepy. or maybe it’s because he’s sick and you don’t want to be the person who says no to a sick person. whatever the case, you stay, let him tug you so you’re sitting on the edge of his bed while he scoots in closer to his wall to give you some space. 

you clear your throat a little. “how are you feeling?” 

he laughs, the sound a little hoarse. “like shit,” he grins crookedly. “but a lot better ‘cause you’re here.” 

you scrunch your nose. 

“turns out you do have a heart in there somewhere,” he teases, poking at your side lightly. you scoff. 

“all i did was make soup,” you push his hand away but there’s no real force behind it. 

“you could’ve just given it to my mom,” he points out. 

“she forced me up here.” 

taehyung snorts. “like you haven’t said no to her before.” 

“it’s - “ you sputter a little. “associative property, or whatever. it’s morning and - and i guess mornings are meant to be with you.” you duck your head to hide your face. 

taehyung chuckles. it’s odd. you know taehyung’s handsome. it’s part of the reason he’s so popular. but even when he’s sick, rumpled and pale with bags under his eyes you somehow still agree with the high school populace. kim taehyung is handsome. 

his voice breaks you out of your staring. “associative property is a math property, y/n.” 

you turn away from him. “you know what i mean.” 

“i do.” his voice makes you turn back to him. it’s rough and he looks quite frankly awfully sick and sweaty but all you can really focus on are his eyes, the way his gaze doesn’t leave yours, a knowing smile on his face. your cheeks feel hot when he looks at you like that. “i know you,” he murmurs. “if you really hated me you would just take the bus.” 

it’s despicable, how much you like that stupid teasing quirk on his lips. how you kind of want to run your fingers through his hair, push it back and away from his forehead. how maybe it would even be nice to curl up beside him, let yourself be surrounded by his warmth. people have always called you cold. you’re aloof, you hold people at arm’s length. it makes them shy away from you, the way you have sharp eyes and a sharper tongue, but taehyung’s never been scared of you. you try to keep him at a distance and he barges right on through, completely disregarding anything you say in favor of engulfing you with his warmth. 

“maybe i just like the free ride,” you argue back to him, just for the sake of it. 

his smile widens. “and the cookies.” 

you huff out a surprised laugh. “and the cookies.”

his hand comes to curl around your wrist again, palm warm against your skin. his thumb brushes back and forth soothingly, a comforting touch. he blinks slowly, sleepily. “you’ve got a soft spot for me, y/n,” he sounds tired and his words sort of slur together, but he also sounds certain. “in the shape of a brown butter chocolate chip cookie.” 

.

.

.

taehyung knows a lot of things about you. more than you think he does. it comes in part due to being your neighbor for over a decade, but also because you’re easier to read than most people think. 

you don’t talk much. not with words, anyway. but you do a lot. you do things like sit next to him at recess in the third grade when you realize the big kids think taehyung’s a fun target because he’s a little small for his age. or you slip a pencil onto his desk when he can’t find his in the fifth grade right before the history test. or you hold up the bus in the eighth grade by asking the bus driver a million questions because taehyung is running late. 

you don’t really like talking much. but you listen, because every year your family and taehyung’s family spend the holidays together and every year your parents give taehyung a perfectly curated gift that even his parents didn’t know he’d wanted, but you do. you remembered when he had a lego obsession and talked about the different kinds every day on the walk to the bus stop. you remembered when he went through a gundam phase. it was always you. you listened to everything he said, every morning, without fail. 

you say you don’t like taehyung, but every year you leave a birthday gift for him with his parents in spite of his birthday being right after the holidays, mumbling, you always get one for me, it’s just polite whenever taehyung brings it up the next time he sees you. you say taehyung’s annoying and too loud but if he asks, you’ll always show up to any of the events his club hosts even when you’d told him you didn’t want to go - claiming jimin forced you to come with. you say a lot of things like that, but even when your eyes are narrowed at him in warning, he sees it. fondness. affection. 

you care about him. 

taehyung’s always been patient with you. he’s waited quietly for you to realize that the irritation you claim to have against him is actually endearment. that there’s no one else you would let bother you every morning the way taehyung does. he’s waited years, giving you just enough space, until you figure it out yourself. 

“i guess you’re all better,” you say as you slide into his passenger seat. taehyung always gets up earlier than you, so he can heat up his car during the winter mornings before you exit your house. 

“hm,” taehyung hums, then shifts himself across the console, the sudden movement startling you backwards. a smile grows slowly on his face as he watches the tips of your ears turn pink. 

you’ve figured it out. 

“i’m missing one thing, i think, before i’m all better,” taehyung leans in a little closer, eyes twinkling in mischief. 

“personal space?” you remark back, one eyebrow arched. 

his smile widens into a grin. he turns a little, so his cheek is facing you. “kiss it better.” 

you sputter, and the scoff you let out comes just a beat too late after. you’ll swear up and down it’s because you were caught off guard, but taehyung knows. he turns back to face you. “you like me,” he beams, relishing in the way the pink has now started to color in your cheeks. 

you face scrunches, but words don’t come out. his eyes shine and you’re enraptured by them, breathless when he comes even closer, the tip of his nose almost touching yours. 

“you should just drive, kim,” you whisper, but he shakes his head, eyes crinkling in the corners. 

“say you like me, y/l/n,” he whispers back, and you stare at him, like you’re gauging how serious he is. his eyes fall to your lips before he can help himself. 

you take that split second of distraction to plant one on him, a quick peck that lasts less than a second before you shove him back over to his side of the console, taehyung falling back with an oof and a stunned expression. 

“i like the free rides,” you say, settling back into your seat. taehyung grins. 

“and the cookies.” 

you glance at him from your peripheral. your lips twitch into a smile. 

“and the cookies.” 

#taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x yn #taehyung #fluff #taehyung fluff #fic: apth

[beevean]

You won’t miss anything by not watching the series, it’s absolutely dull. The monster designs are boring (this is the most grievous offense to me, they’re all human-looking but with added body parts, shells/armor, wings etc), the most frequent action our protagonists do is running away, the characters share no similarity to their game counterparts (big oof with Juste), the main boss is especially lackluster compared to Dracula (even Netflix Dracula), the music is lacking and unimaginative, the voice acting combined with the animation/design is awkward, the aristocratic enemies are non-entities (they’re just npc vampires in powdered wigs, heck the Headhunter has more personality and they only have attack voicelines), the plot is Richter, Maria, Annette, and Tera have to defeat the vampire Messiah and their underlings along with a subplot about saving a friend (how is it different and better than the games which “have no story”), their modus operandi for giving the protagonist characters a backstory is to have their loved ones killed (heck even Olrox’s past lover was killed), and France was underutilized.

I noticed in the first three episodes how the series has regressed to NFCV S1 tier of generic monsters, when the rest of the og show actually tried to bring back iconic enemies - I remember smiling when I saw Karasuman! Hell, Abel stole the show in S4E6! What happened here?

no really. what happened here.

I'm already seeing takes that always bringing Dracula back is boring and we need variety (which is the literal same argument moved against Eggman. I hate it here). And look, not only Castlevania, original name "Dracula's Demon Castle" is all about Dracula and his castle... but are the replacements worth it? The games gave us the likes of a corrupted Richter lamenting the fate of his clan, Walter the entertainingly sadistic lord serving all sorts of cunt, Isaac the cruel, insane, cunning yet tragic and loyal servant, Brauner who stole two girls and turned them into vampires out of grief, Barlowe the eerily realistic abusive cultist... only the Sorrow games are lacking in this department IMO. What did the show replace Dracula with, after swearing up and down that he's nothing but a dysfunctional dumbass? A girlboss? A cute rapist? An edgy redditor? Now a thundercat with her BDSM simp that wants to be Isaac so badly but doesn't have what made him charming? Wow, it was worth shitting on Dracula for three seasons straight and then basically saying "yeah he's not evil anymore" :V

I also noticed how both animation and voice acting took a nosedive. The fight betwen Richter and BDSM mommy is 10 fps, and Sun Thundercat sounds like she recorded herself on a shitty flip phone. c'mon bruh those were like, the two things I could easily praise about the og show. what are you doing.

I also also noticed how everyone has a dead mom, or alternatively a dead sister, and now we have a dead lover because Olrox has to be a poor little meow meow too on top of the tiddies. Oh, but the Games Are Stupid because they keep fridging wives, right? We Are So Much Better Than The Stupid Games :) fuck you.

Yeah I am so uninterested. I don't even want to hatewatch this. I don't care. It's just a shitty French Revolution story told from an American perspective, plus the most condescending of crumbs for the game fans. No, I don't care that you brought Juste back and you gave him afterimages, if you then say that Maxim died like a dumbass and that turned Juste into yet another cynical old man. Bleh.

#anti netflixvania #i lost the cv tag for this

[after-witch]

As a Smiling Man prompt:

Your friend smiled at you.

"If you could wish for anything, what would it be?"

"I wouldn't wish for anything. What is the guarantee that my life wouldn't be worse after it?"

Title: Inclinations [Smiling Man x Reader]

Synopsis: You're careful what you wish for. But are you careful enough?

Word Count: 1379

notes: nothing except  smiling man is bastard man but that's why we love him

Your friend smiled at you.

"If you could wish for anything, what would it be?"

"I wouldn't wish for anything. What is the guarantee that my life wouldn't be worse after it?"

She rolled her eyes and waved a French fry at you. It was normal for the two of you to get into these type of hypothetical discussions over your lunch dates. And yes, she usually got annoyed when you found yourself unable to answer these supposedly fun hypothetical without first considering all possibilities.

“Fine,” she said, voice more determined. “Let’s say that in this hypothetical wish scenario, your life would not be worse after it . The wish would be perfectly fulfilled and you would get everything you want from the wish. What would you wish for?” She dipped the end of her half-eaten fry in ketchup and chewed while she watched, waiting for your response.

You mulled it over. You hated these types of questions simply because of the potential outliers and possibilities and all of the ways it could go wrong. Sure, you might get your wish, but there would be some terrible catch. Like a woman who tells a genie she wishes to be the most beautiful woman in the world, and finds herself turned into a famous, admired painting.

But if there were no catch…

“I guess…”

You sighed, and leaned your cheek against the palm of your hand. What would you wish for? It’s not exactly something you thought about often. Wishes don’t come true. Wishing on stars doesn’t work, there is no such thing as a genie lamp, and no fairy godmother was ever going to float down in a bubble and grant your dreams.

But… if they did come true. And there was no catch?

“I’d want the life I imagined for myself when I was a kid.” You leaned forward and took the straw of your milkshake into your mouth, sucking up a thin stream of half-melted chocolate milkshake into your mouth. “I’d be a successful writer who makes enough from their writing not to worry about bills or anything at all. I’d be married to somebody that loves me.”

The dream-wish became something a little more concrete as you built it, like a child stacking block-upon-block.

“I’d have at least one kid. My family would be alive to annoy me and come over every Sunday for dinner. We’d live close together, but not so close that they drive me nuts. My house would be old and beautiful--”

Your friend jabbed another ketchup-covered fry at you. “With servants stairs still intact?”

You bit back a grin. It was exactly the sort of thing you gushed about when you sent your friend Zillow listings of old houses in town that you would never, ever be able to afford. “Exactly.”

You stretched your arms, and in that moment couldn’t help but notice a pair of eyes were on you from across the cafe, watching as you spoke. It was a man, sipping a coffee in one hand and picking at a plate of fries with the other. He had blonde hair that fell just a bit over his face and large, thin glasses that made him look a bit like a barn owl. When he caught you staring at him staring, he offered a sheepish smile. You couldn’t help but smile back. Something about the expression was a little infectious.

And then you turned back to your friend, shrugging a little as the dream began to dissipate. Your body even sagged a little, like a deflated balloon. “I guess that’s what I’d wish for. If it could come true and actually make me happy.” But you knew it could never come true, and would never come true.

Not unless some magical fairy godmother or genie or wish-granting troll was listening.

--

The fastest way home to your cramped apartment cut through a patch of woods. A scraggly little remnant of the forest that used to be in the area before it was cut down to make room for apartment blocks and abandoned shopping malls. You liked it, and so the teenagers in your area, who often used it for smoking.

That fact is why you didn’t feel particularly unnerved when you got the sense that somebody else was walking in the woods. When you heard footsteps crunching leaves and branches underneath from behind you.

“Would the house be Edwardian or Victorian era? Or perhaps you’re looking for something even older? I do warn you, the staircases can be deadly.”

It took you a few moments to understand what was just said and it made you turn around fast, a feeling of irritation and anxiety washing over you. It was the stranger from the cafe who was staring at you. He was still wearing a smile, but it was confident rather than sheepish, and something about that raised red flags in your mind.

“You were eavesdropping,” is what you finally said, when words eventually come to your mind. “At the cafe.”

The man shrugged and didn’t look very apologetic. “It’s in my line of work. Now, about that house?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. Your pepper spray was at home, exactly where it didn’t do you any good. You weren’t a great runner, but if you needed to, you thought you could run fast enough to get out of the woods in case he tried something. What else would a stranger following you into this remote area want?

“I want you to leave.” You stood your ground. You hoped you looked like a threat. Or like too much trouble to deal with.

“I thought you wanted the perfect life you dreamed of as a child?” He said, and there was something wistful in his tone that made you want to listen to him. It was something you couldn’t exactly shake, and you didn’t know why. Like he was an old friend. Someone who would listen to you and not mock you. Someone who cared.

You shook your head. You didn’t know this man. What were you thinking?

“There’s no such thing.” You took a step away as you said it, hoping to edge far enough that you could leap into a sprint when the time was right. “Like I told my friend, which you should know since you were eavesdropping, there’s no guarantee I would ever be happy even if I got what I wanted.”

The man spread his arms out wide, and smiled so kindly that you got the impression he knew exactly what you wanted as a child and what you want now and that he wasn’t judging you. Someone else might click their tongue and shake their head at your childish dream, still there in your mind even though you knew it would never come true. But not him.

“I can give you that life. Everything would be perfect. You would be so happy.” And then his smile turned sympathetic. “I can even bring back your parents, too. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Your mom and dad were dead. Buried. Bones, dust, by now. You visited their grave less and less as the years go on, but the pain never stopped.

“You’re sick.” You turned, thinking to leave. But when you did he was suddenly there in front of you. Like he appeared out of thin air. And now you were scared and not just annoyed and not just hurt.

“What the hell?” There was a lump in your throat and your heart pounded fast. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

He pursed his lips. “Manners, please.” And It was then that you noticed the mist surrounding you. When did it get so foggy? It wasn’t even that late in the day. Not the proper time for mist at all. But there was, and there you were. And you had the sinking feeling that nothing would ever be the same.

“Now,” he continued, a smile back on his lips. It scared you, how kind that smiled looked.

“Let’s discuss the finer points of your wish, my dear…”

#smiling man #small spaces #reader perspective #reader fic #afterwitch writes #this is the first thing i've written primarily voice to text so hopefully there aren't too many bumps!

[cinderellahoneymoon]

Okay yaaaaay ^_^ I'll start with alkakoid

So summary of the main story is that they're underachievers under the company starmaker and they're put into a unit together. Their goal is to make a large amount of money that's enough to get them into mdm, a big idol performance. Crazy:b kind of becomes a focus regarding plot but alkaloid are the pov pretty much.

Hiiro - Hiiro is from an Ainu hometown where his older brother Rinne is supposed to be the new chief but he runs away for good. After their dad is ill, Hiiro attempts to take Rinne back home because Hiiro was raised to agree with the majority and to serve his brother, so he doesn't know how to be the chief. Later on in the story, Rinne "disowns" him to give him freedom. Hiiro learns through the main story about how to adjust to society and what he wants to do instead of what other people say. In the process he gets along with alkaloid and considers them his close friends.

Aira - Aira's whole thing is that he loves idols and wants to be one. Throughout the main story though he feels inferior to the rest of alkaloid and thinks he's holding them down. He gets super jealous of Hiiro too because Hiiro doesn't know anything about idols compared to him but seems to be performing better than him. Ironically, Aira is supposed to have this whole thing about trying to be an average likeable boy because he's part French, but the writers decided to feel a little racist and made him very disrespectful to Hiiro sometimes along with finding Adonis intimidating and screaming when he sees him... for like no reason. If you hate him for this I don't blame you but I'll warn you AiraPs will not take kindly to that. They don't like when you address racism apparently.

Mayoi - my love!!! From what brief stuff he's told us, Mayoi has a deadly genetic disease that stopped him from going out much, so he homeschooled himself. He did attend yumenosaki, enstars' academy for idols, but he didn't attend any of the classes. I love this fact so much he lived underground. I'm not kidding. We get to see a room in his house at some point it's literally underground. We also know that his parents told him extremely terrifying stories about the Sakuma brothers, but we have literally no idea why or like any knowledge about his parents. Personality-wise, he is extremely skittish and scared of other people, and tends to hide himself in vents. He has incredibly low self esteem which causes himself to put himself down a lot of the time when he's talking to someone. He also gets intrusive thoughts about his cute looking juniors about protecting them from the world but he tries not to act on them.

Tatsumi - He has backstory that's multiple chapters worth, but a rough summary is that he attempted communism at his past academy, failed, permanently hurt his leg from an incident, and was later seen as a revolutionary. Other than that, Tatsumi is a mature and kind person, probably influenced by him being Christian. He's actually pretty lonely, so alkaloid are one of his first ever friends. Because he has no clue how to interpret that though he tries putting them into a nuclear family of sorts where he's the father figure, mayoi's the mother and hiiro and aira are the kids. I'm not saying alkaloid are a family but this a thing tatsumi does because he isn't used to having close friends.

I'll talk about crazy:b next! I'll make it a separate ask though

OHHHH I LIKE THEM ALL A LOT ACTUALLY? A FEW NOTES FROM MY READING:

omh hiiro ily.... hiiro i love your growth you are so awesome

ILL BE SO HONEST from the parts of the story i DID read before i gave up i already didnt rlly like aira but wow i think that cements it

I CAN SEE WHY YOU LIKE MAYOI intrusive thought king im sure people are never weird about that ever [/sarcasm]

COMMUNISM???!?!?!? also tatsumi christian symbolism warrior earlier i had a tatsumip in a room who only spammed the amen sticker and had the most christian costume ever i think i like tatsumi a lot

#fleurs letters #TYSM FOR TAKING THE TIME TO SEND THIS!! hearing your thoughts is really interesting and fun!

[greatwyrmgold]

I'm glad that ZOM 100 finally finished its first season, but Hometown of the Dead did not deserve a three-part finale special extravaganza thing. There are definitely things I like about it! Most of the main characters have or find interesting relationships with the villagers. If the three episodes had been about them, I'd be happy with the finale.

But it's not. It's about a bunch of people who had shitty lives before the zombie apocalypse, who decide to fuck up this safe village because reasons. They're supposed to be a foil to Akira, complete with their own bucket list. But that just doesn't work.

Akira's list is full of things he couldn't do because his shitty job consumed his entire life. His list is a cocktail of simple pleasures, novel experiences, and social stuff like confessing to his workplace crush or spending time with his parents.

But the villains' list is...harder to justify. Some of it is simple pleasures, if "darker" ones like shooting a real gun or taking drugs. But some of it is just "Be evil." The second entry is just "Deceive someone". No one in particular, just whoever. Forcefully French kiss a girl, because consent is apparently a turnoff. "Make a mess out of society," whatever that means in a world where society has been destroyed by a zombie apocalypse. The last episode makes a point about how this wanton destruction isn't making any of them happier, but why did they think it would?

There's not even any connection between the people's unhappy life experiences and the nasty stuff they want to do. I could sort of see the logic for a middle-aged guy unhappy with his marriage wanting to French kiss a young woman, but he doesn't; he wants to feed random people to zombies, and the one who wanted to sexually assault women was disrespected at work and then was fired after he accidentally burned the place to the ground. (I don't think there were any women in his flashback.) The businesswoman was hated for wanting people to follow The Rules, but instead of trying to uphold the rules she sabotages an electric fence and fights a weeb-samurai.

And then there's their leader, Kanta. Not only is he the one coming up with the group's plans and directing them, he's the most direct foil to Akira, from the bucket list he started to the fact that he and Akira went to the same college. If only one of the characters in this group has a coherent motivation, it should be Kanta.

Kanta hates Akira because they went to the same college, and Kanta saw Akira being happy with his friends once, even though Kanta was lonely. And then Akira asked if Kanta wanted to join them, so Kanta felt awkward and left. That's it; there aren't even multiple flashbacks to different times Akira was happy. Akira just talked with his friends when Kanta was around, probably just once, and Kanta decided he would nurse a grudge against Akira for years. And also he decided to wreck the village where they happened to meet, because he hates society so much, because he's a hikkikomori loner. And that seems to be the extent of his trauma.

At the end of the day, it's four copies of the same character. They had sad lives, so they want to do bad things. And one of them hates Akira, which is why he targeted Akira's family; he also liked going to the pool as a kid, and deep down wanted to relive that childlike joy, but that doesn't actually influence anything he does.

It would be one thing if Kanta's group was just a throwaway catalyst. Some dumb kids decide to fuck with the village, immediately get eaten by the zombies they unleash, and the climax is saving the village from zombies. But they're not.

Each individual member of the group got their own tragic flashbacks, and had to be taken down by one of the main characters in their own action scene. (Aside from the one assaulting Shizuka; she alone needed to be saved by the villagers.) Plus, Kenta is set up as a direct foil to the protagonist, and the emotional climax of the three-part season 1 finale is Akira comforting him as he dies. The villains are set up to hold up so much narrative weight, and they just can't; not only do they fail to add anything, the amount of time and focus given to them handicaps the parts that should work.

The flashbacks and monologues and half-baked parallels were the foundation of this three-part finale. It doesn't have a foundation of sand, it has a foundation of quicksand, dragging down everything in the house that should work.

#zom 100: bucket list of the dead #anime #antagonists #essay

[ryokoaoi]

Everyone's posting their own headcanons for the bois so why not share mine with my comfort characters?? (Don't worry there's nothing explicit-related here, however there is angst related stuff so prepare for that.)

Lasko

Social anxiety 101

He's near-sighted.

Whenever he's stressed out, he usually writes what he is feeling on a piece of paper then tear it up and throw it away.

Or he'd just knit something.

Honestly, loves flowers. His favorites are baby's breath and daisies. (FL usually putting some on his hair when he isn't looking)

Really really just wants to sleep.

Prefers to be in sweaters... oh! And knitted vests too.

Teal and Sky blue are his personal favorite colors.

Gavin

He loves the colors pink and lavender (he finds those colors to be really pretty and honestly, it is.)

After being taught by damien how to cook, he sort of successfully became better at it time to time. (Imagine the amount of teasing he is giving damien lmao)

Can actually shape-shift his gender and probably his looks too (it's kind of some information i found on wiki about incubi and succubi? Apparently they have the ability to change genders for their... y'know)

Used to be friends with Cam and Avior.

He has insecurities with his own looks y'know? He wants to look nice to everyone especially FL.

Had a past relationship at some point before freelancer. (You can probably tell it didn't end well at all)

He hated being called by his real name. If some d(a)emons he hasn't met for a long time called him by that name, he sort of just flinches and tell them to never use that name ever again.

Avior

Prefers tea over coffee.

An absolute Bookworm.

Despite he looks like a person who hates sweets, he actually really likes sweets. (Most likely pastries)

He finds any shade of purple (especially the dark ones) to be really beautiful.

Likes tying his hair up to a ponytail.

He used to be really close with Gavin and Cam..

Vega did used to be his friend as well at some point.

If him and warden ever met, they'd probably have the same interest. (Atleast my warden and avior does lol)

Can speak and understand french (he learnt a lot from it for all these years)

Prefers to be in old fashioned attire.

Cam

Based on my cam design, the flowers in his hair are actually built-in(?) (Not sure if thats the term)

Because of that, whenever he feels an emotion, it sort of affects the flowers too. (Let's say for example, if he's feeling sad or having a breakdown...the flowers will start to wither. But eventually they'd regrow again once he calms down.)

Don't actually try to take a flower off his hair, it'll actually hurt him. (Kind of like taking a needle out of his skull or smth)

He doesn't show his daemon features a lot because he doesn't want to look intimidating to his charges.

Like avior, he prefers tea over coffee.

Caelum often braided his hair when they're together. (He kind of treats him like his lil brother)

although daemons don't need sleep, he really wishes to just have some long sleep.

Wishes to be closer to avior and gavin again.

#redacted asmr #redacted headcanons #redacted gavin #redacted lasko #redacted camelopardalis #redacted cam #redacted avior #i feel so much better after writing all this lol #had a horrible day actually #favorite headcanon's probably avior's

[ibtisttime]

The pretty girl with the pretty handwriting.

I've always envied people with remarkable talents. yes I have no shame in saying it. I wasn't jealous, I did actually envy them. I believe we are allowed to feel however we want as long as we do not let it affect other people badly. I never did something to stop them from being so talented or to discourage them and I think that's what matters most.

I bet all of you remember that one kid in class who could either draw, play an instrument so well or even something so small like having a pretty handrwiting. How the teachers obviously liked them more. made sure we all knew how better they were from us for being so talented.

One memory I remember so vividly, is of french class in primary school. see, I've always been the top of that class back then with no close competitor. I was privileged I guess, I have to admit it, for having two very fluent parents and also multiple older siblings that could speak the language so well. Me being the top of the class however, was expected and not something to be celebrated at home. but at school, it was my moment to shine, because there has always been a kid that draws better, one that sang better, and one that could write better. It was the only class where I could feel how everyone admired me so much and wanted to learn from me. kids would line up at the door of my house to get some help with their homeworks or to have me accept being parts of their projects. French class was definitely my favourite class. That until the pretty girl showed up.

I don't remember how or when she exaclty joined our school. Maybe because all of those past memories are so blurred to me now (yes, one of the reasons I am writing is to try and collect all those pieces to help me find out who I was). I just remember it being 4th grade and her being my same height which makes her tower over all the girls in class with me. I remember her being so pretty, having a very pale skin, smooth dark long hair, beautiful dark eyes that barely showed with her bangs, a very slim figure and a very cute voice. Nothing like me, all quite the opposite actually. She was so charming from a very young age. and I believe she naturally knew how to use those charms from a very young age too.

I can't recall wether we were friends or not but I have memory of talking to her in the school's yard and her bringing up kids songs and shows that were so foreign to me. I remember there being a circle of pople around her when she told us about those songs and sang to us.

What I clearely remember about this girl, is french class. I remember to this day how her voice sounded like when she mispronounced basic words in french. or how she called the teacher in a strained cute tone. I mean, I remember her level being so poor.

But one day the french teacher was examining our writing and he noticed hers. he was so surprised, he lifted her copy book and showed all of us how well pretty her handwriting was. He from then on, made her his favourite, always called her to the board to write stuff and praised her every single day. And of course, made sure to remind us every time how better she was from everyone else. And everyone else (me) faded away.

I remeber hating it so much, ever since I was a kid. Why am I being compared to someone who was obviously blessed? why are they better than me if they didn't even try?? I was the one with the knowledge and the grades, why is he better? I was a child, and I was angry. And of course, as any child would do, I just prayed and prayed to magically wake up with some sort of talent, and that talent never came.

I think I realized at such an early age, how important pretty is. and how pretty with talent is so powerful and would always win over hard work. Maybe not always, but very often.

I also realized at such a young age, how I was lacking in both. I just decided at the age of 9 that I was not pretty. I did not have the looks and I did not have the manners and the attitude of a pretty girl, I just knew I didn't. I also had no significant talent that would make me shine more than others. I was very very mediocre. the only thing I had was grades.

So now I find it funny when people ask me why I do not think I'm pretty. Yes I might be pretty, gorgeous even to some. but in the society I grew up in, I am way less than normal, unpleasing to the eye I would say. I just came to know this through multiple experiences. so before anyone just tells me to be confident in my looks and feel pretty in my own skin. they better first undrstand that it is deeply rooted in me. I was conditioned to think like this.

I will for sure grow out of this, I already healed the biggest part I would say. But not feeling pretty is okay. sometimes it can't be helped and needs years and years of work and self acceptance. so people saying YOU ARE PRETTY YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT are just very fuuny and quite delusional even.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #talent #hardwork #pretty privilege

[askthealternateakis]

Thanks for answering again 😊

So another question, what does alternate Akis think of Chaotique ?

(I assume here there isn't a version of Aki with Chaotique as his sister)

Fun fact: when I first developed the concept of the Alternate Akis with a friend of mine, there actually was a Chaotique Aki! His name was Dément (which is French for “lunatic” like how “chaotique” is French for “chaotic”) and the basic gist of his personality was the classic “adorable on the outside, sadistic on the inside” trope. I ended up scrapping him because I wanted to focus solely on Robot Masters as I felt like most of them didn’t really get that much attention, and Chaotique both doesn’t technically count as a Robot Master and is already a fan favorite. You can make an Aki for Chaotique if you want to, though! I want to be this a relatively open concept, so if you want to make Akis for her, your own Robot Master OC, or just make your own takes on pre-existing Akis, you’re more than welcome to! My friend and I actually came up with tons of names for hypothetical Akis for Robot Masters that don’t even seem to exist in the MMFC universe that I’m perfectly happy to share in case anyone needs any ideas. Just make sure you tag me so that I can see it as well.

As for answering your question proper: 

Ember: “…She’s annoying. Really, REALLY annoying.”

Stravinsky: “She’s a little too loud and obnoxious for my taste, if I’m going to be perfectly honest. Doesn’t help that she won’t stop calling me ‘No-Eyes’ and ‘Mole Boy’ even though she knows I hate being called those.”

Stellan: “Ugh, don’t even get me STARTED on her! She’s leagues worse than Adderly, and that’s certainly saying something. She refuses to follow any sort of rules set in place by anyone, plays quote-unquote ‘pranks’ on others that are more akin to incredibly dangerous federal offenses, has no consideration towards the safety of others, and seems practically incapable of accepting any sort of responsibility for her own actions. I’ve given her lecture after lecture about how to act accordingly and have offered to help her become a better person again and again, but they only just result in her just laughing at me and calling me a ‘boring goody-two-shoes’ or a 'stick-in-the-mud mama’s boy’. How anyone can stand to be around her for longer than a minute is completely beyond me.”

Brooke: “Personally, I don’t think she’s all bad. I mean, sure, she’s a troublemaker who’s admittedly done some not-so-great thing, but I think she’s still got some good deep down inside of her!”

Ember, Stravinsky, and Stellan: “…”

Brooke: “What?”

Stellan: “She willingly teamed up with a terrorist just because she thought it would be amusing. Twice, might I add.”

Brooke: “But she called me her bestie once! Doesn’t that count for something?”

Ember: “You do know she was probably just saying that get on your good side, right?”

Brooke: “You don’t know what’s going on inside her head! Maybe she really did mean it!”

Stravinsky: (under his breath) “Tell me you’re in denial without telling me you’re in denial.”

#ooc #(kind of) #mega man #megaman #rockman #mega man fully charged #mmfc #megaman fully charged #fully charged #alternate akis #askthealternateakis #Ember #Stravinsky #Stellan #Brooke #Chaotique

[justsomeoneunordinary]

15 QUESTIONS

Tagged by @madbuns from this post, thank youuu ♥️

Were you named after anyone?

ehhhh... my name is the name of a historical figure in serbia, but it's also a very typical serbian name, so i am not really named after anyone per se, my mum just liked it

When was the last time you cried?

two (three?) days ago after watching gotg vol.3

Do you have kids?

yes, many. i consider every child i work with at the daycare as my child

Do you use sarcasm?

who, moi??? never

What's the first thing you noticed about people?

hair

What's your eye colour?

brown <3

Scary movies or happy endings?

both? both is good

Any special talents?

i am really fucking good at minigolf even tho i fucking hate it with every fibre of my being. i literally stand there bored to death "when will we be finally done with it?" while hitting most holes in an instant with no problems. (bowling, on the other hand, which is fucking love and try to play as often as financially possible, i am really fucking terrible at. i lose every damn time)

Where were you born?

hospital <- mango's answer lmao 🤣

züri. i'm a real zürcherin through and through

What are your hobies?

reading, writing, traveling (back when i had the money for it 😭), cooking (-ish? i say i hate cooking but i do it every day anyway even tho i son't have to. i only hate washing the dishes afterward and when the cooking stresses me out when there are too many things to keep an eye on at once, but otherwise i do actually enjoy it), idk meeting with friends and doing stuff... i don't have any special interests tbh

Have any pets?

no and i'm pretty sure i don't want any either. i won't allow anything hairy into my flat, and anything else that requires a terrarium or the sorts still needs care and time (and cleaning) and i don't have the time for that. or patience for that matter

What sports do/have you played?

used to do swimming. as in competition. and then i got my first period early and my mum and trainer did not see eye to eye abt that so i didn't go far with it before i gave up on it. no official courses after that. i wanted to do field hockey but a lot of my school bullies were doing that already, so that was a no. considered badminton to learn officially bc i loved to play it leisurely but never did, and that was that tbh...

wait, does dance count? i did hip hop actually when i was 10-ish but i was terrible at it (and still am - zero feeling for rhythm, i can't even jump up and down in synic wth everyone else at metal concerts), so that didn't last long...

How tall are you?

210cm :)

Favorite subject in school?

german, history, english (once upon a time french also lmao and then it got more difficult and wow did i lose interest in it real quick)

Dream Job?

y'all have dream jobs? i'd like to get money for doing nothing, thanks

Tagging: @iam93percentstardust @togaki-kun @pleasetakethis @linya333 and everyone else who sees this and would like to play as well ♥️

#tag game

[diagonal-queen]

belated thungo thursday! someone's about to be real sad and that someone is ME

dazai: you have to do an impossibly important job for me akutagawa: oka- dazai: keep atsushi safe akutagawa: N E V E R

akutagawa was like 'dont kill the weretiger. not cus i like him or anything, but because if you kill him, he's gonna revive and he's gonna be an even bigger pain in the ass. save all of us the trouble'

NOT fukuchi being like 'respect the elderly' and akutagawa is like 'i don't discriminate. i hate everyone regardless of their age'

am i the only one who sometimes gets a little annoyed at how atsushi and akutagawa are always arguing with each other? like in the right time and place it's very funny and actually very important to their relationship but the two of them will literally put more effort into insulting each other than defending their lives from the powerful enemy who is very much trying to kill them. PRIORITIES BOYS. PRIORITIES. EVEN SOUKOKU DON'T DO THAT

'Do we need any more?' who wants to tell him

(SORRY THAT WAS SO UNCALLED FOR LMAOOAAOOAOAOAOAOAOAOA)

i wonder how fukuchi discovered his ability. like imagine as a kid he was just like hanging out with a friend or something and they were eating chips or something and he jokingly throws a chip at his friend and the impact from that single chip makes said friend fly across the room and land on the floor dead and fukuchi is like 'uh. whoops'

NOOOOO THEY DIDNT ANIMATE THE PART WHERE AKUTAGAWA AND ATSUSHI WERE ARM IN ARM FOR A SECOND BEFORE AKUTAGAWA PUSHED HIM AWAY :(

'four years ago dazai san abandoned me' omg akutagawa taking that shit SO personal. he left because his bestie got killed by some french dude it had nothing to do with your emo ass

'i don't get paid enough to die with a villain!' he was so real for that

holy shit the part where sskk caught the bullets and dropped them i fucking gasped. that was so sexy and for what??? why was that so hot i rewatched it like ten times holy shit hotties

okay akutagawa knowing how to safely choke someone?? i guess we know what he's into

im curious as to why atsushi didnt ask akutagawa to go longer without killing someone- like a year or something. did he think he'd say no? was he thinking 'that's too high a goal for this maniac. baby steps' LMAOOOO

i love how atsushi's run is like this goofy ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ ᕦ( ᐕ )ᕡ thing while akutagawa just naruto runs with a stone cold expression

'should we be outed, my head will be the first to fly' akutagawa on his odasaku arc

(THAT ONE WAS EVEN MEANER HELP IM SO SORRY)

i think its established pretty well now that i find atsushi sexy (and im sure absolutely nobody else does, but dont come for me) his tiger stripe mark things on his face make him look WICKEDLY attractive. argue with the wall

fukuchi live tweeting this crap like 'having a smoke while these gay boys plan to kill me. i'll update if i live lol'

people really always be like 'fukuchi has a point because of his war experience' i guarantee you if you were to approach any actual veterans and ask them if their experience in conflict made them want to plot for decades in order to kill everyone in the world who has ever been a veteran/fought in any sort of conflict, they would NOT give you an affirmative response. shut the fuck up

AND HE'S LIKE 'my struggles have been infinite and nobody gives me recognition for them so im mad' BUDDY WHO DO YOU THINK YOU'RE TALKING TO?????? AKUTAGAWA IS RIGHT THERE (and atsushi too but i mean he's kinda gotten some recognition for his rough life. akutagawa's gotten NONE)

imagine akutagawa like in beast breaking his arm and yosano is like 'oh dw akutagawa i can fi-' and then he's just using rashoumon to do it himself lmao (does he do that in beast? i havent finished it)

atsushi: i need to defeat this villain me: cus he wants to end the wor- atsushi: because i dont want akutagawa to do it first me:

DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN ABOUT THEIR CONSTANT BICKERING???? DAMNIT SSKK

heyyyyy we finally got an akutagawa ass shot!!! *adds to collection* i

akutagawa: i need to defeat this villain me: cus he wants to end the wor- akutagawa: because i want dazai to think im cool me:

i mean he soon followed it by saying 'i would never work for you because you'll never be as cool as dazai' which is very true, so i guess you've redeemed yourself for now akutagawa

akutagawa in uniform >>>>>>>>

whoever is voicing akutagawa and atsushi in this ep deserves a million billion dollars

im sorry sskk. i didnt mean to laugh. but the sudden triumphant moment being cut off (as well as atsushi's hand lmaoo) made me giggle im sorry

TIGER FISHEYE

this episode got me wondering all over again; HOW is anybody going to defeat fukuchi. there is (seemingly) literally no way to best the spacetime sword (can't be arsed to remember its name im sorry). how the hell are they gonna resolve this. im not smart enough to theorise like the rest of you guys

holy shit what a perfect way to end that episode. like the suddenness of it and screaming akutagawa's name, but also because i haven't stopped listening to tetsu no ori since it came out and i'm obsessed with this song. everyone say thankyou granrodeo

i'm surprised i spent most of that time thirsting instead of crying. let's wait and see what happens next thungo thursday!!

#dia's daydreams #thungo thursday #the sillies #thirsty thungo thursday #haha #alliteration frustration #HAHA #rhyme time #HEHEHAHSHDHDH

[lovemesomesurveys]

Have you ever lived in a mobile home? No. Have you evern had your bedroom in a basement? Nope.  Do you think it would be cool to have a lion as a pet? Uh, no thank you.  What do you think about those little dogs that ride in purses and strollers? Please don’t get a dog to just be your accessory. Don’t do that if they’re uncomfortable or appear distressed at all. I hope they’re being well cared for.  How many times in the past week have you eaten fast food? Zero. I haven’t had actual food or drinks for 3 months now. 

In the house shoes, socks, slippers or bare feet? Socks.  Do you consider dogs inside or outside pets? Inside.  Do you read books for pleasure? Yes.  What's your favorite piece of furniture in your house? It used to be my full size bed, but I had to get rid of it it for a special hospital bed and it’s only a twin.  Have you ever had a crush on a friend's parent? No. Do you prefer carbonated or uncarbonated drinks? I like both.  Favorite thing that you can see up in the sky? The stars.  would you like if they sold disposable undies in a pop up box? ...no. French fries. Yay or Nay? Yay.  Which of your friends has the most annoying sibiling? -- wood floors or carpet? Wood floors.  would you rather eat at the table or in your room? We don’t have a dining room table.  A teacher says she's noticed you've looked sad, do you confide in her? That has happened, but no I didn’t confide in her.  Friend asks you to hide drugs, booze etc for them, do you do it? No. Would you rather have a gooey cinammon bun or awesome cheesy pizza? Both sound amazing right now. Do you like the sound of birds singing when you wake up, or is it annoying? It can be annoying sometimes.  You fill your best friends Xmas stocking, what do you put in it? Some B&BW stuff and some gift cards.  You fill your worst enemies stocking, what do you put in it? I don’t have any enemies, but if I did why would I be getting them anything? You fill your OWN stocking, what do you put in ti? Perhaps some of the enamel pins and accessories I want and B&BW stuff.  If someone gave you a kitten, would you keep it? No, I would find them a home.  What's your ideal activity for a rainy day? I don’t do anything different, but I do love rainy days.  favorite type of cracker Cheez-Its and Nips.  Banana sandwich..yuk or yuck? Yum. animal you like to watch but sort of creeps you out? There isn’t one.  Have you entered the Lays create a flavor contest? No. Bagels or English Muffins? I like both.  Do you like or hate to buy new shoes? It’s nice getting a new pair of shoes.  Do you keep your phone on you at all times or forget it a lot? I always have it.  Who is a family member you look forward to seeing on a holiday? We haven’t had our big holiday get togethers, it’s just been my parents, brother, and I for the holidays the past several years.  Are Easter baskets only for kids? Pfft, no. My mom still gets my brother and I, who are adults, a basket and I love it.  Do you do anything to recognize St Patrick's Day? My mom makes corned beef and cabbage, but that’s really it.  Do you think nutcracker figurines are creepy or cool? I like them.  Speaking of nuts, do you like them? I like peanuts, cashews, pistachios, and seasoned almonds.  Favorite TV show as a kid? I loved Barney when I was really little. I also liked various shows and cartoons on Disney, Nickelodeon, PBS, Kids WB, FOX Kids.  What do you do when you are nervous? I fidget and squirm, mess with my nails, bite and pick at my lips, mess with my hair, twiddle around with my hands. Is there a turntable and vinyl records in your house? Yes. Does your family have an SUV or pick up truck? Nope.  Do you enjoy doing things outdoors? The only outdoorsy thing I like is going to the beach. Which of your parents do you laugh more with? My mom. Have you ever been to an open casket wake or funeral? Yes.  Would you like to get married one day? I honestly don’t ever see that happening.  Who mows the lawn at your house? My dad.  Where do you keep your phone at night? On my bed.  Do you feel comfortable asking your parents or grandparents for money? My parents, yes.  What's the last thing you lost? My mind... If you could have your own car or an apt which would you choose? I don’t drive, so I don’t have a need for a car. I also don’t want to live on my own. I can’t right now anyway even if I did.  Have you ever experienced buyer's remorse over an expensive purchase? Yes.  how do you like your eggs? Just about every way.  after a date do you call your friend to tell them how it went? I just talked about it the next time we hung out.  Favorite Mexican food? Burritos.  favorite thing to eat with a spoon? Ice cream.  upcoming event you are dreading? This swallow test I have to do. I want to do it because it’ll determine if and what I can eat and drink, but I’m dreading the procedure itself. I have to drink a lot of this nasty stuff.  Best Happy Meal toy you ever got? Beanie babies were awesome.  Do you make lists? Yeah, quite often.  Do you make pro/con lists before making a decision? Sometimes.  Do you have a favorite pen? What kind? In general I like black ink gel pens.  What's the best meal you cook? Ramen is the only thing I cook.  Do you do more surveys during the day or night? At night.  on lunch break do you eat or do other things? I ate during lunch breaks.  Smoothies? Bubble tea? Fancy coffe? none of the above? I like all 3.  do you like romantic gestures or do they make you feel awkward? Both.  Five things you need to throw out? *shrug* do you like the toilet paper your family uses? Yeah.  Just shampoo, or shampoo + conditioner? Just shampoo.  scariest driver you've ridden with? My dad gets a little road rage-y. 

have you, do you plan to go to college? I went and graduated with my BA in psych.  do you write in cursive? Only when writing my signature. 

#personal #text #survey #surveys