#children will just be standing there and jeremy is just >:

[biblio-smia]

part one | part two | part three

there's a feeling of dread in mike's stomach the second he wakes up. then, he remembers last night and his chest starts aching, too.

mike forces himself not to dwell on it. not on the disappointment in your eyes. not on the way you'd admitted you'd loved him (was it too late to admit he loved you, too?). not on how mike had ruined the one good thing he had.

mike rubs his eyes, blurry vision refocusing until the Nebraskan trees on his ceiling are clear once again.

mike feels more sluggish than usual as he throws clothes on and struggles to tie his tie, almost like he's still dreaming. he catches the crookedness of his tie in a mirror and imagines it's your fingers instead of his readjusting it.

abby is especially cold to him this morning, clearly not worried about mike realizing she had overheard last night's argument.

mike takes it, not even upset when abby calls him a jerk and throws a plushie at him.

he knows it's his fault. he knows he's been living in his own bubble without space for anyone else and he knows you are not going to come back without a little effort from him first; but the idea of telling you what's really going on is so terrifying mike would almost rather you never speak to him again.

it's really quite pathetic, how helpless mike is when, realistically, all it'd take is a phone call. but mike can't even bear the thought of hearing your voice confirm everything negative he's ever thought about himself.

so mike puts it off.

as soon as he gets this done. as soon as he figures out who kidnapped his brother.

then everything can go back to how it was.

though that uneasiness really never leaves mike that day. not as abby angrily huffs as she exits the car, not as mike shares this dream theory with his co-worker Jeremy, and especially not as mike sees an older man forcing a young boy along.

really, mike didn't even remember tackling the man and beating his face in.

but mike must deal with the consequences.

he is home early and abby has learned not to ask why. she has long since caught on to mike's patterned behaviors, though her childish mind does not quite grasp how it all could affect her. but abby does know that she misses you, wishing that stupid mike would just pick up the phone and call you.

max is her babysitter now. she's nice and she lets abby sit and draw in her room, but she's not you.

abby is on a hunger strike again, one that only you could ever seem to get her off of. mike tries one of your tricks, telling abby she'll never get to ride any adult rides at amusement parks, but she does not give in. at least he's sure they're related. mike can only hope abby's anger at him will mellow out - she has not been this difficult since before you and mike started dating and he has forgotten how to wrangle her.

the next day is better - up until the moment mike is handed a stack of papers asking him to give abby up.

a part of him considers it. who the hell was mike to raise abby? he couldn't maintain a job or relationship. abby has barely spoken to him recently (though mike wonders how much of that has been his own fault) and there have been multiple times throughout the years where mike thinks abby might truly hate him.

but then dr. lillian reminds him that children communicate through pictures and mike almost blurts out your name when she asks who's at the center of all of abby's drawings. and then it dawns on mike that, even before you, it's been mike. it's always been mike and now he is forced to think about how deeply abby loves him, pushing out the voice that tells mike this is impossible.

at home, mike sits in front of the phone and considers calling you. he still half-expects you to come in through the front door sometimes, smile bright and arms warm as you hug him from behind, too impatient for mike to stand and properly greet you. mike can almost feel your fingers on his shoulders and your kisses on his temple - and then he remembers he's alone.

mike shakes the thoughts, though he lets himself imagine your reaction to aunt jane's request. you'd say no, god, you'd rip up the papers, an anger on your face that mike knows isn't directed at him. you'd grab his hands and promise you'll find a way to win.

yeah, you'd be there, right by his side.

as if on cue, abby pipes up suddenly, her attention off the television and on mike and the phone in front of him. "are you finally gonna call?"

"what?" mike asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion until abby says your name like you're the only person mike should be calling.

"what? no, abby."

"why not?" abby cries, her frustration with mike beginning to return.

"because," mike stammers. "because it's complicated."

abby rolls her eyes. mike sighs and picks up the phone. he doesn't dial your number (that he knows by heart), not quite ready to let you see him while he's so low. instead, he takes a small white business card out of his pocket and dials steve raglan's number.

yes, mike thinks as he looks at abby, he has had a change of heart.

it's been three days since you've seen or heard from mike. there's a certain kind of disappointment that constricts around your throat, making it hard to breathe when you think about it too much. you hadn't explicitly broken up with mike, but you'd given him a choice that he still hadn't acted on. were you too harsh? had trying to pry your way in been a mistake?

no. you weren't happy with how mike had been acting and you had to let it out eventually before it hurt the two of you even more.

but god, why was it so hard for him to just pick up the phone and call you? all he had to do was say i'm sorry. at this point, you'd take just that. maybe if he saw you...

so you make a trip to the mall after work, but nerves start to set in as you drive and your confidence starts to falter. maybe you won't go up to him, but maybe you could just get a glance...

you've been curious to see how he's doing, anyway. you know mike can survive without you but your anxiety won't quit turning your stomach into knots until you see that he's okay.

you don’t spot mike. but your eyes do land on jeremy, who you’d met a few times when dropping things off that mike had forgotten (like his uniform shirt).

thankfully, the security guard spots you first, sending you a friendly wave that you return. he isn’t really expecting you to walk over, especially now that mike’s gone, but he doesn’t really mind.

but then you ask about mike and jeremy’s expression quickly becomes confused.

“mike got, uh… let go. two days ago.”

"let go?" you don't bother hiding the confusion on your face. if you had known, you wouldn't have been here.

"yeah... didn't he tell you? that's something pretty hard to hide."

"we're not... together. um, i mean, we don't live together... we argued. it's complicated."

jeremy smiles understandingly, a little amused.

"well, i didn't know him for long, but i know he was crazy about you. i mean, i thought he was a real dick until you stopped by and i saw how he acted around you. i mean, he was like a little kid with a crush," jeremy laughs, before he raises his hands defensively. "look, i don't know what happened, but he's probably beating the shit out of himself for it."

you let yourself laugh a little, your cheeks a little warm in embarrassment. "yeah, i'll keep that in mind. thanks." you turn to walk away, only getting a few steps away before another inquiry pops into your head. "do you know... if he's working somewhere else now?"

jeremy frowns as he shakes his head. "no idea. it was all kind of... messy."

you wonder what he means briefly but any chance to ask for more details is stripped as a static-y voice comes through jeremy's walkie-talkie. you decide not to bother the guard anymore, waving your goodbye and walking back to your car.

what did mike do?

that night, max enters the schmidt home to abby's screams. she stands in the doorway curiously, watching mike shut abby in her room as she takes her raincoat off.

"she's all yours." mike grumbles, heading back into his room.

though as sleep finds max on the couch with the tv playing softly in the background, she does not hear the soft padding of abby's feet sneak into the dining room. abby's small hands move the phone to a position that is more comfortable for her to dial in a number she does not know by heart, but has written on a piece of paper that has "in case of emergencies!" scrawled at the top. abby hopes you aren't asleep as the line rings, grinning when she finally hears your voice. it's been so long! abby almost squeals, but remembers she must be quiet.

"hello? who is this?" your voice rings, a little impatient.

"hi! it's me!" abby whispers loudly.

"abby? honey? is something wrong?"

"everything's wrong!" abby sighs. "mike won't take me with him to work and i have to stay here with max and i don't want to!"

you hold the phone to your chest momentarily as you sigh. no real emergency. a part of you is relieved, while another wonders how mike would feel about this. if he'd feel anything at all. (and maybe there's a part that's disappointed you don't have an excuse to see abby and mike).

"max is your new babysitter?" you're a little hurt mike would go so far as to hire someone else rather than just call you - did he really not want to see you that much?

"mhm," abby nods. "she's sleeping on the couch right now - that's why i'm whispering!"

you stifle a laugh at abby's antics, listening carefully as another voice (seemingly still half-asleep), max, asks abby who she's talking to.

"my friends," abby responds, her voice sounding a little more faraway before her attention returns to you. "i miss you," abby whines.

"i miss you, too, abs. so much." and you didn't really realize how much you did until now, an ache in your chest spreading at the sound of her sweet voice.

"can you come over? please?"

"no, abby, i don't think that's a good idea." you sigh. you really didn't want to put more pressure on mike and risk running him out for good, even if he wasn't currently at home.

"mike is a jerk!" abby groans, bringing the phone down to the floor as she lays on her stomach. "and i know he's sorry, he's just being stupid."

"hey," you warn gently. "you know he... tries his best," you sigh. "he's just not that great at talking about his feelings."

"well, he took my vest," abby tells you. "and he wouldn't let me come with him to work."

"he's going to work at this hour?"

"mhm! he works during the night now. at the abandoned pizzeria?"

"now, why would you want to go with mike there?" you laugh lightly.

abby's giggles grace your ears and your heart hurts despite your smile. "it's fun! i wanna go!"

you really can't fathom how abby manages to find a place like that appealing, shaking your head softly through the phone.

and then that other voice, max, speaks up again, less groggily this time. "abby, are you actually talking to someone?"

"no!" abby lies. "i have to go! bye!"

you don't even get the chance to wish her sweet dreams before the line goes dead, leaving you with that sad feeling in your stomach and a lump in your throat that you fear might turn into tears.

the next day, you're barely home when the phone starts to ring. you pull it off the hook quickly, remembering last night's caller.

"hello?"

your intuition was correct; abby's voice greets you on the other side of the line.

"can you come over? it's really an emergency this time!"

"abby? what's wrong?" there's worry in your voice and you're suddenly grateful you haven't even had the chance to take your shoes off.

"i can't tell you over the phone. just come quick, please?"

you don't even ask where mike is before you nod. "okay, i'll be right there. ten minutes, okay?"

you hang up the phone and practically speed to mike's.

your hands tremble slightly as you try to shove the spare key in, twisting the doorknob and shoving it open quickly.

mike's name is on the tip of your tongue before your eyes land on the man himself and abby, both crouched as the clean up spilled items from that stupid, always-stuck drawer.

"wha... what's the emergency?" your voice falters and you're beginning to think there was no real emergency after all (how could you know that the sight of a woman wanting to talk to mike constituted an emergency in abby's little head?).

mike looks at you confused and a little shocked while abby grins. she leaps up to wrap her small arms around you and you bend down to reach her height.

"abby..." you begin, but she's off before you can even finish, the soft shut of her door the only thing filling the silence between you and mike as abby disappears.

you sigh as you straighten, wondering if you should just turn around now. "she... called, said it was an emergency." you're avoiding mike's eyes, only keeping the lower half of his body in your peripheral.

mike sighs. "abby!" he calls, his hands on his hips and his head down, though he knows it's no use.

"sorry," the both of you blurt out, looking up at each other at the same time before quickly glancing away.

"no, i'm sorry," mike steps closer to you now, hands balling up the hem of his hoodie. "for... everything."

you look up at mike now and you can see that he means it.

"i'm sorry for shutting you out. i'm sorry for getting angry. i'm sorry for not calling."

you can tell his hands want so desperately to be on you and you step closer, putting your hands in his.

"i was stupid." mike pulls you closer, just now realizing how much he's missed everything about you: your touch, your scent, the way you fit so perfectly against him. the way he can never keep his hands off you, not even for a second. "and i'm so, so, sorry." mike's voice has dropped to a hushed whisper, his eyes scanning yours for any hint of forgiveness.

"okay," you begin, hands dropping to mike's waist as you pull him in for a hug. "okay," you nod, holding him so tight mike feels like he could cry.

"i'll tell you everything," mike whispers. and he does.

he thought it'd be easier, considering it was the second time he'd told the tragic story of his childhood in the span of about thirty minutes. but sitting next to you, your thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hand, mike began choking up which led to you crying, too.

"you never told me," you said, voice soft.

"i know. i'm sorry."

"no, no," you shake your head. "this is... big. i understand why you don't talk about it." mike nods, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "it's a lot," you continue, wiping your own tears away. "it explains a lot."

"what do you mean?"

"why you suck at opening up."

that makes mike laugh. and there's a part of him that's mended by your words. to you, he's not difficult. not unlovable. he just... sucks at opening up.

"yeah, i guess i am pretty bad at that." mike keeps his eyes down, hands still playing with yours.

you shrug. "you're getting better."

and mike's heart soars.

he looks up at you with nothing but hearts in his eyes, his head tilting ever so slightly as he leans in closer. you meet him halfway, eyes closing once you feel mike's lips against yours again - softly, sweetly. your hands drop and find the back of his neck while mike's land on your hips, bringing you closer as you both feed the hunger you've been fighting off for days.

"finally!" abby's voice interrupts you and mike as you spring away from each other, wiping your lips with warm faces.

"you," mike points, getting out of his chair. "are in so much trouble."

abby squeals as she dodges past mike and straight into your arms, clinging on tight.

"okay, abs, what did we talk about when using the phone?" you ask, pushing a stray ringlet into place.

"that it's only for emergencies," abby recalls a little glumfully, though you're glad she doesn't bring up the little chat you two had.

"and what do you say for lying about an emergency?" mike pitches in sternly, hands on his hips.

"it was an emergency!" abby insists, turning from you to mike and back. "mike was talking to vanessa."

"vanessa?" your eyebrows raise, a little amused as you glance from abby to mike.

"what? abby, it's not even like that!" mike insists, face warm and hoping you won't get the wrong idea. "vanessa is a police officer who comes by freddy's sometimes," mike explains, partially to abby but mostly to you. you try not to giggle at mike's flustered state.

"see, abs? nothing to worry about." and really, you know there isn't. it took mike two months and a direct confession to realize you were into him; there was no way anything had happened between him and vanessa.

"so, you two are together again?" abby asks hopefully, eyes glimmering.

you glance at mike, who's hiding his face in his hands and groaning. "well, technically, we were never broken up," you tell abby, patting her face as she smiles, clearly satisfied. "good," she says. "don't." and then she's off again, back to the comfort of her room and her imaginary friends.

"are you serious?" mike's voice is clear now as his head leaves his palms. "that wasn't a breakup?"

your head tilts in confusion. "well, i never technically said the words, 'i'm breaking up with you,' so no, it wasn't a breakup. more like a break."

"what the hell? that was one of the most awful experiences of my entire life, and it wasn't even an actual breakup?"

mike is so evidently torn you can't help but laugh, standing to pull him in and catch him in a kiss.

"act right and you'll never have to experience one," you whisper in his ear.

mike nods profusely, arms wrapped around you tightly as he pulls you in again and again, lips not leaving your skin for more than a few seconds at a time.

and really, he has no idea how he's been managing to survive without you.

OKAY OKAY... do we want a part 3 that would wrap up the rest of the movie?? (itd have more angst + flluff <3) pls let me know <3

requests for mike schmidt are open!

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt fluff #fnaf #fnaf x reader #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #v + mike #v writes

[pillowspace]

I just had a dream where all of the ghost children from FNAF had ended up in a single space directly after their deaths, all looking like Charlie's sprite from FNAF 3. So, dark figure with a flat mask.

As time went on, each and every child started to gain animalistic features that separated their appearance from the others. Tails, ears, paws, etc. And the children would be happy, as this would signify something important, like a life purpose or moving on to something greater. Each and every child excitedly waited for what animal they would be. But as every child had their celebrated discovery, Charlie ended up being the last one... and no change came. The other children looked at her strangely, almost judgemental that her shining moment had not come. Jeremy the bunny was the first to leave her behind, then Gabriel the bear, and then Susie the chicken and Fritz the fox. Charlie did not fight the others' decision, but she felt sad and lonely, standing in the space with just a flat mask, without anything differentiating her from an unchanged spirit.

Then finally, she noticed that there was still somebody there. A spirit behind her. It was a little girl nervously staring at her own hands, just as unchanged as Charlie's. Charlie approached the girl, Cassidy, and there was a silent moment of connection as the two realized that they were not alone in having been left behind without a direction. Charlie took Cassidy's hand in her own and put on her bravest smile, saying "it's gonna be okay from now on. Do you want to know why? Because we can be special together." She honestly didn't know if looking as generic as this counted as special, but it successfully calmed Cassidy down, and that was all that mattered to her. A friendship was formed between the two flat-masked spirits.

And then I woke up and ate a granola bar 👍

[ilyasorokinn]

can i request anything with dad!sways?

GRANOLA BARS

kids + post game media will always be my weakness

THE "SWINGING WITH THE SWAYMANS" MASTERLIST

tw: children/kids

jeremy was on a high. the bruins won, and although it wasn't a shutout game, the bruins had won by a pretty significant number, and it was all thanks to his good luck charms: you, eli, and winnie.

it was winnie's first game, so it was special game for him. during warmups, he saw you down on the ice, and couldn't contain his smile when he saw winnie's beanie.

it was the first thing jeremy had given to you when you found out you were pregnant with eli, but eli had long since grown out of the hat. it had been in storage so you decided to bring it out and surprise jeremy.

during intermission, he briefly checked his phone and saw the photos you sent him from the bruins social media account. the bruins photographer managed to catch a sweet moment of the four of you. you were sitting in a seat with eli was standing in between your legs and winnie standing on your legs. jeremy standing behind the glass with the biggest smile on his face.

the photo was caught right as winnie had noticed her dad on the other side of the glass. he took off his mask halfway so she knew it was him, but she was a smart girl, so she knew it was him.

eli and winnie both smiled as jeremy tossed pucks over the glass for them, which were caught by a kind man. winnie excitedly slapped her hands on the glass as jeremy smiled at her.

before having kids, he didn't understand what people talked about when they talked about "dad strength", but now, after having kids, he totally understood it. going into the 3rd period, after having seen those pictures, he was on fire. not one goal was let in the entire period.

after the game, all he wanted to do was go home and spend the rest of the night with you and the kids, but because he did so well, post-game media was on the list of things he had to do before he could leave.

“jeremy, going into the 3rd period, what was going through your mind because something changed between the second and third."

jeremy couldn't help but smile, "yeah, i got a text from my fiance. i don't know if you've seen them yet, but it was pictures from warmups. it's my daughter's first game, and we got some pictures taken."

he heard some commotion from the door of the locker room, and looked up just in time to see eli running in. jeremy smiled as eli pushed through the crowd of reporters and stood in front of his dad, waiting to be picked up.

he smiled, bending down and picking eli up. he fixed the hat on eli's head before turning back to the reporters, answering a couple more questions.

"...obviously, a shootout game would've been nice, but..." eli interrupted jeremy by whinging and pointing to the granola bar in his stall, "sorry." he smiled awkwardly, grabbing the granola bar and opening it for eli, "where was i?" he paused for a moment before regaining his train of thought, "... right, yeah..." he continued on with his answer before turning to the next reporter.

mid question, eli reached up and held out a piece of the granola bar, offering it to jeremy, who smiled and took the piece in his mouth. he nodded along as the reporter continued, eating the granola bar eli kept offering him.

he finished press and had eaten half a granola bar by the end of it. with eli's help, he got his stuff packed up and followed eli out to where you were waiting, winnie was asleep in the baby carrier attached to you.

"hi." you smiled brightly when you saw him, setting your phone aside, and giving him your attention, "i tried to stop him, but he's fast and he was on a mission."

jeremy laughed, "he is fast." jeremy looked down the hallway, watching eli running down the hall, talking to himself. he looked back over to you, raising a brow.

"he had a bit of candy." you shrugged, pursing your lips when he cocked his head at you, "we were on highway temper tantrum, exit full meltdown," you explained.

"hmm." jeremy hummed, setting his bags down and snatching eli up when he ran down the hall, "oof, i got you."eli giggled loudly, before letting out a tired yawn, dropping his head onto jeremy's shoulder, "let's go home." he slugn his bag over the other shoulder before grabbing your hand.

requests are open :)

#jeremy swayman imagine #jeremy swayman imagines #jeremy swayman x reader #jeremy swayman fic #jeremy swayman blurbs #jeremy swayman #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fic #nhl blurbs #nhl #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fic #hockey blurbs #hockey #boston bruins imagine #boston bruins imagines #boston bruins fic #boston bruins blurbs #boston bruins #taylor writes #taylor's blurbs #taylor writes: hockey #swinging with the swaymans series #swinging with the swaymans #dad!jeremy

[strawbubbysugar]

So(u)l Chapter 1

A soulmate daycare attendant x reader slowburn!

Disclaimer: it/its pronouns are used for the daycare attendant until he achieves sentience! Here's the AO3 link to read it there as well! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48206098/chapters/121564951#workskin

Busy. Busy busy busy, always so busy. Never even a moments rest to stop and think- not that it needed an entire second, a laughably long amount of time. Jeremy was trying to eat glue. Tasha was shoving a dirty sock from the ball pit into one of the generators littered around the room- as if they weren’t already enough of a fire hazard.

It was lucky it was so quick, so ready to jump into the candy covered sticky fray. It was even luckier that it was a computer, a robot designed specifically for children. Maybe not designed for this specific job, but it performed it well. It took pride in it, as much as an artificial intelligence could, and even moreso knowing that all of its knowledge and expertise in this area was learned through experience rather than it being loaded into its artificial brain. It was advanced. It was incredibly advanced, far moreso than any other technology outside of the fazbear corporation.

A learning, growing AI, worth millions of dollars, and now with one hand holding onto the labelled seam of a toddler’s pants, dangling them from where they’d attempted a jump off the highest height of the jungle gym. The other hand was holding back an eight year old, who was beginning to realize that they were too mature for the daycare and acting out to prove it as they attempted to peel the safety foam off the sharp corners at the top of the structure. Its feet were being used to hold himself to the gym, hooked into the criss cross patterned grating and providing it just enough leverage to remain opposed to gravity.

If it had core muscles, they would be straining at the effort. At the moment, all the straining was a result of its desperate attempt to not drop either child, nor use too much force and accidentally hurt them.

Its foot slipped slightly, ever so slightly. Not enough to make it fall, but enough that it knew that scenario wasn’t far off. Its mind ran a hundred thousand calculations a millisecond, before it finally calculated the best choice.

It used the hand holding the back of the older child’s shirt to yank them towards it while simultaneously throwing the toddler up up UP into the air. It did a spinning cartwheel off the structure, using both it’s hands to launch the older child into the ball pit as if he were a basketball, hearing him land with a scattering of hollow plastic balls. Finally, it hit the ground with a duck, a roll, and a bounce to stand back up. Holding out its perfectly engineered hands and-

Poomf!

Catching the little one with time to spare. The fluid, lifelike robot beamed and wiggled ite finger over the child’s nose, earning a giggle before it put them down and sent them on their wobbly way.

“Remember kids, the top of the structure is off off off limits!” It announced, its million dollar smile bright and cheerful, it’s voice so full of life you wouldn’t know it didn’t have one.

“Mr Sun!!” Two of the children screamed, in a tug of war over a stuffed Chica.

“Hello, friends!” It smiled at them, bounding over in far fewer steps than it would take a human, thanks to its incredibly long legs. “Are we playing nice and sharing our toys??”

One of the children shook their head quickly. “Billy isn’t letting go of MY chica!!”

“I saw it first!!” He retorted, tugging on the doll again. The animatronic faintly heard the sound of seams pulling taut.

“But I brought it from home!!” The little girl whined. “Mr SUN!!”

It gently patted both of their heads, crouching down to get closer to the both of them. “Amanda, you brought your toy from home, so you get to decide if you want to share it! Billy, Amanda is very upset, so do you think you could find a different toy??”

It’s voice remained as bouncy and excited as ever, even while crouched down trying to calm down a situation. Billy scowled before tugging on the toy again, and even Amanda could hear the ripping now. She screamed in terror at the idea of her toy being broken, pulling back harder in a vain attempt to retrieve it. “NOOOO!!”

It scanned the situation, running through calculations before coming to its final option. The last one before simply lifting up the children and physically separating them.

“Whooooo wants a sundrop!!” It held out two round little orange candies, magicked out of thin air from behind the children’s ears.

They stared for a moment, but only a moment before the toy was dropped and the candies grabbed eagerly. The daycare attendant lifted up the toy, depositing it in Amanda’s arms. It reached over into one of the many piles of toys surrounding the daycare and pulled out a Monty plush, plopping it into the arms of Billy. “There we go! Now we both have a toy!”

It’s wide smile beamed as it squinted it’s optics in a show of approval. Both children seemed at least satiated with the end result- both with a toy and a piece of candy, before running off in opposite directions. It stood up and surveyed the room, looking for the next challenge to tackle.

The child who had been dunked into the pit finally dragged himself out, throwing a plastic ball at the attendant’s head in indignation that his plan to ruin safety codes had been thwarted.

The ball whizzed towards the animatronic, with surprisingly good aim for a kid of that age. Aim didn’t matter however, when the daycare attendant had sensors in the back of its head. It’s torso turned before his head and caught the ball. When it’s head caught up, rotating to face him, it beamed his same, static smile at the boy.

“Oh ho ho, Lukas!” It chided, voice loud enough to fill the entire daycare with ease. It used its foot to kick two more balls that had been scattered along the mats into its hands, and began juggling them. “Throwing things is not permitted in the daycare! Unless of course we’re playing catch- but I don’t remember agreeing to play!!”

As it walked over to the boy, it continued to scoop up balls, juggling them even as the number of them became more and more unfathomable to be kept in the air all at one time.

Lukas folded his arms and huffed, turning and sitting on the edge of the ball pit. He paused until he knew the attendant was close, mischievous little grin worming it’s way across his face. By the time the attendant was close enough to roll the balls off its shoulder in a graceful slide back into their designated place in the pit, he had a new plan.

He threw himself off the edge of the ball pit, sliding between the attendant’s legs and booking it for the structure. He knew the attendant had difficulty maneuvering inside of it, though it wasn’t impossible. He’d have to be quick to make it through. He had no real goal, of course. He was here until his mom came for him at four.

But getting that dumb robot all tangled up for a few minutes would be compensation enough for having been interrupted during his brooding on top of the structure.

The robot feigned being startled as it was slid under, having seen the boy’s muscles tensing long before he actually moved. Its programming urged it to allow the children small victories over it- to improve their self confidence, and their growth. It gasped dramatically, throwing every ball it was juggling into the air at once and letting them pelt it as they came back down.

Several children who were watching giggled at the display, enjoying watching the oldest kid in the daycare really stick it to the man. Er.. the robot.

The older kids knew the robot wasn’t really alive. He was a toy, meant to watch over them while their parents were at work, or with their older siblings in the gigantic pizzaplex. He was like .. an elf on the shelf. He couldn’t really do anything to you, but he could tell your parents if you had been naughty, and that was often more than enough to deter them from bad behaviour. He played games, sang songs, told stories, did arts and crafts- he did it all!

Almost like a real person!

Lukas had, at this point, been sticking out his tongue at the attendant from the slide, teasing and making rude gestures.

The attendant’s array of yellow points, surrounding his head like a halo of sunshine, flattened back slightly. It’s programming censored the rude gesture for it, but it knew that it was against the rules. Rules that it took VERY seriously.

“Lukas! That is against the rules! Please step out of the-!” It peered up into the tube that the boy had disappeared into, whirring clicks filling the plastic tunnel as it tried to pathfind the best way to handle this situation.

It was frozen for a fraction of a second before deciding to follow him. It knew the boy was trying to get it to follow, but that’s what it was here for. To play! To follow the rules in order to keep order and structure to the fun, to play along, and to keep humans safe were the pillars on which its AI was built. It was harmless to follow, and would only serve as a lesson to the boy when he was caught to not break the rules.

It crawled into the slide, on all fours, almost spider-like as it ascended. “Luuuukaaaas!” It called, in a sing-songy voice, completely oblivious in any bit of its coding as to how terrifying this situation would be to a child. “Rulebreakers don’t get to keep playing, they have to go in TIME OUT!”

It reached the end of the slide, crouching as it scanned the area. It found the bio signature near instantly, though with a moments hesitation. He was using the generator as a mask to hide his body heat- clever! It added that note to Lukas’s file to compliment his mother on when she came for pickup. The parents were usually much friendlier to it after it complimented their children. Not that their nervous looks and barely hidden discomfort around it bothered it. It was only a machine, after all.

“Come get me!!” The child teased, sticking out his tongue as he peaked over the generator. Warning signs flashed in its mind, red boxes and triangles covering his view. This was dangerous. The generators weren’t safe to play around.

“The generators aren’t toys, friend!” It spoke slowly. “Let me get you somewhere more fun, then we can-“

As it reached over the generator, it knocked one of the thick connecting cables loose, already having been on its last legs from being fiddled with by tiny hands. A large arc of electricity crackled in the air, and the lights in the daycare flickered. The generator practically jumped into the air with the force of the kilovolts being pushed through it, kilovolts which connected with the attendant’s metal frame and engulfed it.

Lukas watched as the attendant was flooded with electricity, artificial eyes flooded with static, and rays spinning so quickly it was creating a breeze. Arms twitching and hands opening and closing, legs spasming- Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea after all. If he broke this thing, his mom was sure to kill him. Or at least, take away his video game privileges.

Eventually, the lights in the daycare returned to normal, the generator that had been over-conducting calming down as its brothers rerouted the power to themselves and shut it off from their system. Now that it was powerless, the attendant was free to recover.

Smoke rose from his body, eyes black as his power cell had forced a shut off to avoid overload. It had done so too late, unfortunately, and he had crashed.

His systems slowly rebooted, coming back online one by one.

Good Morning, Sun!

The text beeped in front of his eyes before disappearing shortly after, the usual wake up he received after a hard reset, other than the startup systems diagnosis running in the background. He blinked slowly, purposefully.

That had.. hurt.

It had hurt?

It had hurt.

Why had it hurt? He’d never hurt before. He could feel things, thanks to the wiring under his silicon, to give him the ability to judge touch and pressure. But he’d never hurt. He’d also never considered himself a he before. Why was he thinking that now? Why was he thinking anything? He didn’t usually think, not much anyways, not consciously. His thoughts were command tasks in his computer brain, not thoughts- thoughts like these. Like this one right now. And this one! And this!

He felt himself begin to panic. What was happening to him? What was wrong? Was he broken? Oh, no! If he was broken he’d have to-

Fear flooded his system. Confusion, then panic, then fear. Not the most fun first three emotions to feel.

He raised his hands and gripped his rays anxiously, before patting down the rest of himself. He didn’t FEEL broken. Not physically at least. Maybe the jolt had fried his software- would he need it replaced?? Would he-

He froze again, a swirling spinning mess of all these terrible feelings, not even noticing as the little instigator slipped his way past him and down the slide back out of the structure again.

He was too busy thinking about himself, now. Himself. A new concept.

If he’d needed to breathe, his chest would be heaving. And it did. His artificial breathing, meant to make him even more like a person, had caught up to the news of their sudden autonomy, and began shuddering as he fought to catch his false breath.

He was only shaken out of his stupor when he heard a voice in the back of his head. One he heard constantly- that he knew as intimately as he knew himself. It WAS himself. Or at least.. it had been.

When he wasn’t awake, it hadn’t mattered that the moon program was separate from him. They were the same body, providing the same functions. It was the same as switching browsers. You still got your results.

But now.. now..? Now that little voice, those little lines of code that ‘spoke’ to him.. they really were speaking to him. The voice they’d programmed for moon, to be softer, to be easier to hear before bed, echoed out in lines of code that translated themselves into speech.

Sun?

Sun paused for a moment. That was his name, wasn’t it? Sun. It was his. He’d never thought about his name before- it had almost been as much of a title as daycare attendant. It wasn’t his, it was what the children called him to get his attention. No, no. That was his name. It was his. He decided firmly in that moment. His first real decision- one made on his own. On purpose. By choice.

..Moon..?

He sent out his own strings of code in return, hesitantly, carefully. As if responding would break the spell, the beautiful and terrifying curse they seemed to be under.

After a few long moments, agonizingly long, he received a pinged response.

This is new.

#fnaf #fnaf daycare attendant #y/n #fnaf sun #fnaf security breach #fnaf moon #fanfic #fanfiction #au #fan fiction #soulmate au #soulmates #chapter one #so(u)l #daycare attendant x y/n #so(u)l fic

[wingedcat13]

Synovus: A Wishing Star

[Canonically, this takes place before ‘Call Me Menace’ - which is why there’s a notable lack of Alexandria and Minerva in this segment. This was requested by an Anon, with the prompt of Synovus being asked for by a Make a Wish child, through the Make a Wish foundation.]

[Trigger warnings for childhood cancer, descriptions of illness and hospitals, and discussions of suicide. Reference is also made to the possibility of substance abuse. Unlike most of my writing, for this, I cannot promise you will find this ending happy.]

“Your name came up today,” Rosie called up to you, laboriously walking laps around the cafeteria.

“Of course it did.” You replied laconically, keeping a careful eye on her progress from a perch in the rafters. Your shadows were ready to catch and steady her if she stumbled, though you both pretended you were too occupied with your knitting. “I am an incredibly interesting person. On a completely unrelated note, tell Dr. Grouch that he will receive payment shortly.”

That wasn’t an epithet, ‘Dr. Grouch.’ It was genuinely the man’s name. Dr. Jeremy Grouch, a pediatric cancer specialist, who had the good fortune of being the best choice for you to kidnap when Rosie had finally told you why she’d been half-joking about retirement. He was no longer your ‘guest,’ having returned to the mainland full time a few weeks prior, but he still communicated with Rosie quite often.

A bark of laughter had Rosie pausing, out of breath, to brace herself against the wall. She turned to rest her back against it, but since she didn’t sit, you didn’t jump down to see if she was alright. Even if you had stopped knitting.

“Not for the money.” Rosie assured you, when she had caught her breath enough to reply without wheezing. “He thinks you’re more than generous.”

“Dr. Grouch could stand to live up to his name a bit more.” You tsk’ed, “I kidnapped him, forced him to work for me. He didn’t even haggle.”

Not that this would have done him much good in the beginning. Historically, you did not respond well to threats or extortion. But you did respect a good hustle, and you were fairly certain that Dr. Grouch had been aware he could’ve pushed for more of a reward once Rosie was declared in remission. He hadn’t taken the opportunity.

“He isn’t hurting for wealth.” Rosie pointed out. The sardonic note to her voice had made you smile. You and your minions were in the business of exploiting greed and committing evils, but that did not make any of you less inclined to judge others for anything less than your own morality demanded. And that often included each other.

But Rosie’s tone shifted, becoming something lighter, “He said one of his patients asked to meet you.”

“What?”

“One of his patients wants to meet you.” Rosie repeated patiently. “Wished for it, even.”

You forced your tone to remain light, glad you were up in the rafters where she couldn’t see your body language. “Well, there’s a rarity. How many people ever say ‘I wish to meet Synovus?’”

Rosie sighed. “Usually just people who want to kill you.”

“Are we certain that isn’t what the child wants? I’m assuming it’s a child, adults usually know better.” You picked up another stitch, fumbled it, did it again. This time it stuck.

It wasn’t the idea of a child trying to kill you that had you so… disoriented. You’d been responsible for the deaths of a lot of parents over the years - you wouldn’t be surprised if there had been hundreds of vendettas sworn against you, or all villain kind, or even the heroes who had failed to stop you, over the years. But kids - children - you had a soft spot for.

You remembered too clearly what it was like to be young, sheltered, and out of control of your life. It was debatable, some days, how much of that still applied to you in some way or another.

“I’d bet on the kid.” Rosie remarked.

“I-“ You twirled one knitting needle, intending to point it at her, and snagged it in the trailing end of your yarn instead. It didn’t matter, because she couldn’t see you. “- take offense on the child’s behalf that you would doubt them.”

“Oh yeah?” Rosie perked up, “Offended enough to defend their honor in person?”

Frowning, you set down your knitting again. “What are you asking me here, Rosie?”

“I want to know if you’ll honor the kid’s Wish.”

There was something in the way she said it that gave you pause. You mulled it over.

“When you say ‘wish,’ you don’t just mean a general expressed desire, do you.”

It wasn’t much of a question, but Rosie answered anyway, “Nope. I mean the Wish. Apparently they hadn’t wanted to say anything, because they didn’t think anyone would let them, but they were talking to Dr. Grouch, and asked where he’d been -“

You groaned. You’d been assured of his adherence to HIPAA, but hadn’t pushed too hard on the ‘never tell anyone where you’ve been, ever, on pain of excruciatingly over described death’ angle. Maybe you should’ve.

“- yeah, I know, but apparently he only told the kid and asked them to keep it a secret, and the kid ‘lit up like it was Christmas.’” Rosie relayed this information, complete with air quotes, without moving from the wall.

To avoid thinking about the idea of being anyone’s last, true Wish - the big W, the heart’s desire, the crown of a bucket list - you instead thought about how Rosie had trapped you. You couldn’t just disappear because then she’d be alone, and could still collapse. You couldn’t call her physical therapy completed for the day yet either, because she hadn’t finished this lap.

Evil, your minions. Absolutely evil.

You sighed, sure Rosie would feel it, even if she couldn’t hear it at this distance. “Very well.” You conceded, morose. “When are we meeting this little miscreant?”

—-

Hospitals were not easy for you to break into. Not when you were in costume, at least. You could get terrifyingly far in a white coat with a coffee cup and a clipboard, but that came down to timing and confidence and an aura of ‘fuck off, I am incredibly busy’ that you’ve always felt most doctors cultivated on purpose.

That didn’t really work when you were in all black with a cape and a helmet. And this was a children’s cancer ward, so it wasn’t like you could just wait till everyone went home. Windows didn’t open up here either.

So you’d had Dr. Grouch let you in from the helipad on the roof.

“You’ve taken the precautions I requested?” He asked, as you paused outside of the ward itself. “Fully clean, as you would have for Ms. Rosie? You will not touch anything you do not have to, and will call for assistance if she seems overwrought?”

“Yes, Dr. Grouch.” You replied, accepting another antiseptic wipe for your gloves. “I am here to answer a summons. That is all. I swear that your charge will not come to harm from me.”

You did not point out he had been the one to arrange this meeting. His face made a strange expression, as though he were surprised, and surprised at being surprised, and a bit disappointed in himself for that sequence of events. Still, he recovered quickly.

“At least I do not have to remind you to wear a mask.” He granted, in an attempt at levity. Luckily for you both, you didn’t actually need to reply, because he was already triggering the ward doors for you to enter.

While Grouch moved to the ward station, motioning to calm the various staff on duty, you moved with purpose for the room you’d been directed to earlier. Grouch was telling the staff that he’d found someone willing to stand in for you, as a way of reassuring them. You weren’t sure they’d buy it, but it really wasn’t your problem for the moment.

You moved quietly. You weren’t sure whether or which other rooms were occupied, and you didn’t intend to scare anyone who hadn’t requested to see you tonight. For that same reason, you double checked the number on the door you opened, and lifted it faintly on its hinges, that it would open smoothly and as silently as you could make it.

The room beyond was dim, if not completely dark. The corridor behind you was also dimmed for the night cycle, trying to give the ward’s occupants a chance at sleeping, though the ward station was still well-illuminated. You made sure its light wouldn’t give you a halo or shadow as you entered, and quietly shut the door behind yourself.

You aren’t familiar enough with hospitals to say whether this room is average or not. Tiled floors, the bed that is also a gurney, sparse furniture, windows on the far wall. There are signs of life here, in the form of some decaying flowers on the dresser, with several cards propped around their vase where the bed’s occupant can see. A television is mounted near the ceiling on an extendable arm, but it’s off for now.

There’s a few sources of dim light - the distant aura of the streetlights casts the bars supporting the windows on the wall across from the bed. A floor light illuminates the tile enough to show any potential tripping hazards. The odd blinking light on the medical equipment provides a dash of color to the gloom.

And in the bed, there is a lump curled on its side, as far as the IV line and monitors will allow it, blankets pulled tight over the shoulder and tucked near the chin. Dr. Grouch told you some basics about the patient before you reached this floor, so you know who you are supposed to be meeting. You feel bad for waking her, but you’ve been assured she doesn’t sleep well anyway, and is likely awake. Judging by the faint rustling of a body’s small movements, that judgement was accurate.

You are reminded of Dr. Grouch’s planned lie, out in the hall. You do not want this child to think they are being tricked. So you stay where you are, in the deeper shadow of the door-well, and you summon your shadows to life.

The window frame shadows make an excellent trellis for your branching additions - they stretch out, forming words in deeper darkness than the natural shadow from which they are woven. If you are mistaken, if this is the wrong room, if the girl sleeps, you won’t have disturbed them.

But you see the streetlight illuminate the planes of a too-sharp face as it turns to focus bleary eyes on what you’ve written.

Hello, Loralai.

At fourteen years old, Loralai should still have the roundness of youth. She does not. Nor is she quite skeletal, despite the advanced nature of her illness. It almost seems, in the half light, as though a slight push would be all that was necessary to send her in either direction: back to the hale softness of health, or further on to the sharp stillness of death.

She blinks. Her eyes widen, then narrow, then widen again. You belatedly wonder if perhaps she needs glasses. Or what if she’s dyslexic? Your shadow-words are hardly the easiest things to read. Damn it, Synovus, now is not the time for posturing and-

“Synovus?” Asks a breathless, whispering voice.

“In the flesh.” You reply, because you are a melodramatic moron. Still, your voice is quiet, and you remain unmoving.

There’s some more rustling. The bed is already mostly elevated, so Loralai doesn’t need to try and sit up so much as readjust how she’s sitting. There’s a click of a lamp - and then there’s a real light source in the room, even if it’s dulled by the lampshade.

You step forward as Loralai rubs the spots from her vision with one hand. There’s an IV catheter taped to the back of it from some recent event, the bruising around it just beginning to ripen. You don’t remember what that might mean, if anything.

As she gets her vision back and examines you, you turn your helmet, pretending to survey the room. Eyes bright with curiosity flick from the helmet to the cape to the patterns of padding over your torso. She does not seem scared, but then, why would she be? Dr. Grouch had informed you she was well aware her case was terminal. You may be a specter of death to some people, but this child has already started staring down the real thing.

“You are Loralai Weber?” You ask, turning back to face her directly.

She nods, leaning back against her pillows. You can see exhaustion on every line of her too-young face, but it seems not to have any power over her at the moment. “Yes. I didn’t think you’d actually come to see me.”

You gesture aimlessly, “I am not often asked for.” You reply candidly. “You’ve piqued my interest. And.. one could say I was in the neighborhood.”

Loralai’s expression brightens, “Are you going to attack the hospital?”

You frown. The prospect seems to excite her. Still, you keep your voice casual, noncommittal, “Not tonight, at least.”

“Damn.” Loralai sounds disappointed now. You muffle your amusement at her cursing as she continues, “Any time soon, maybe? Like, in the next week?”

She can’t see you raise your brows, so you tilt your head to one side, “You sound almost hopeful, Ms. Weber. Why could that be?”

Loralai averts her gaze for a moment, plucking slowly at the top blanket of her bed. This is the moment of truth, really. You spent hours trying to figure out what you might be asked for:

Could you kill someone for her? A doctor, a nurse, another patient who was really annoying? Or could you attack the hospital, so she could help you wreak havoc, and have the chance to feel as powerful as a Villain? Alternatively, what if she were the one to stop you? You were dreading the deathbed request that you ‘turn good,’ but that doesn’t seem to be forthcoming. Maybe she simply wishes to witness a hero battle up close, and needs you to initiate it. Or-

“I want you to kill me.”

You freeze. Most of you, anyway, as your stomach seems to have left out the ground floor entrance. You had not anticipated this. You feel like you should have.

Remorseless for your shock, Loralai continues, managing to look directly at your helmet face as her words spill over each other, “I know I’m dying, and that I don’t have long left, but I’ve been dying for months, and I just feel worse and worse every day, and I - I want to die fast, not slow. I want it to be over. You - you could make it quick for me, couldn’t you?”

You have not been inclined towards religion for a very long time. Yet, in this moment, you see the appeal of dropping to your knees and offering a fervent prayer of gratitude to whoever or whatever might be listening that you gave Dr. Grouch your word in the hall. You do not want to answer Loralai’s question, or know what your answer would be. You refuse to acknowledge the burgeoning answer within you.

The horror of it all still threatens to overwhelm you. The shadows in the room thicken, automatically reaching for you to provide shelter from unfortunate truths and uncomfortable conversation. This is why she asked for you. Because you are evil. Because you are terrible enough to meet a child face to face and kill them at their own request. Because you are not beholden to law, morality, or sympathy.

The black pit of despair yawns, and it is only by the barest shred of your willpower that you stay out of it - as awful as you feel in this moment, as much as you know you have only delayed your own suffering, the fact remains: you are not the one dying here.

It does not matter how you feel, looking at someone younger than you were when you finally found freedom, and knowing they will never reach the same age, the same feeling. It does not matter how you feel about their request. Loralai Weber sits in a hospital bed, terminal at 14 years old, and she is suffering badly enough to seek the Scourge of the West Coast.

So you scrape yourself together, and move to the end of her bed.

“May I sit?”

Loralai nods, brow still furrowed, and shuffles her feet so you can avoid accidentally sitting on them. You perch there, partially leaning on the rail at the foot of the bed, and watch her for a long moment.

“Yes.” You say, finally. “I could make your death swift. There is little you could do to stop me.”

You have Loralai’s undivided attention. When you stop speaking, she waits. The clearer it becomes that you will not say more, the further her face falls. “Could.” She says tonelessly. “But won’t.”

“No.” You confirm quietly. “I will not.”

“Why?” Loralai cries. She tries to gesture to herself, to the room that she’s in. “You’ve killed so many people! What’s one more to you? Why not me? Is it - do you want me to suffer, is that it? Would this be too merciful for you?”

You let her yell, and gesture, even when she comes within several inches of you. “No, Loralai. I do not want you to suffer. But nor do I think this would be an act of mercy.” You avoid addressing the issue of your body count.

Loralai looks offended and confused, gaping at you for a moment. “Does this look like a life worth living?” She demands.

Your answer is without hesitation, “Yes.”

The girl’s face contorts with incredulity, then despair, then anger. Her eyes are increasingly red-rimmed, and there’s a wet quality to her wavering voice when she responds, “Fuck you.”

Grimly, you brace yourself for much worse before the night is over. She hasn’t ordered you out yet, so you have to attempt to explain. Even if you cannot give her what she wants, you can be an outlet for her anger, and the face she cannot show to her doctors.

“There are cards on the dresser.” You point out.

“Classmates I’ve never even met.” Loralai responds flatly.

“Flowers, too.”

“Another parent bought some for the whole floor after their kid bit it. It’s a pity gift to make them feel better, nothing to do with me.”

“You still have family.”

“So they should get the honor and joy of watching me die? Paying a fortune for every extra hour I sit here and wait for it to be my turn?”

“It is worth it, to them.” You explain, matter-of-fact. “Every penny. Every extra shift. Every loan. Every night on your fold-out couch. How did you convince your mother not to be here tonight?”

Loralai flinches. “She has a bad back.” She mutters, “She - it’s better for her to be home, in a real bed. And so what if it’s worth it to them? What if it’s not worth it to me? Can’t I choose how and when I die?”

You sigh, “If that were true, the world would be full of immortals. And suicides. You realize that is what you asked of me, yes? An assisted suicide?”

Loralai draws back at the word, but doesn’t deny it. “It’s not like it would be anything new for you.”

The truth of that statement is painful. For a moment, you hear a distant ringing with no physical source. You are acutely aware of the shadows in this room - their patterns under the bed, on the wall, the sky behind the window, in the spaces under your skin-

“I am not your tool.” You rasp, before remembering that Loralai couldn’t possibly know about your past. She is a teenager. A hurt one. They always have a gift for striking true, even when they lash out blindly.

You take a deep breath, and suppress the shadows again. You don’t want to know how far up your arms they reached before you regained your senses. “And I will not be baited into killing you either. You are right - I’ve killed. Plenty. I will again. But I do so for my own reasons, and not because someone asks me to. You asked for me by name, Ms. Weber, out of all of the villains on the West Coast, so I’m guessing you know that.”

Loralai opens her mouth to respond - then looks away.

“You have every right to be angry.” You continue into the silence, “With me, with the people around you. With the doctors and nurses for how often they check in and the poking and prodding they do. With the kitchen for the quality of the hospital food. With your parents for not sparing you this life, or being overbearing in their concern, or not being able to balance what it is you really need.”

You pause. Loralai doesn’t respond. You continue, “I would be angry. I would be furious with every car that passed by and honked its horn, because I’m stuck up here dying, and they only care about the stupid traffic. And I would be even more angry about the fact I can’t tell anyone that without becoming the bad guy, who can’t take their situation with grace.”

“But you won’t kill me.” Loralai says finally, “Before I do something I regret. Or become a husk of myself.”

This time, it’s your turn to remain silent. Loralai turns to look at you, even if she can’t find your eyes in the mask. She’s crying now, but so far managing to hold off actual sobs, “Why can’t I be selfish? Just once?”

You offer her your hands, and aren’t surprised or offended when she doesn’t take them.

“You should be selfish.” You tell her, and the ferocity in your voice takes her aback. “You should be as selfish and greedy as you can. You should seize every moment - every conversation with your parents, every breath of conditioned air, every chance you get to actually smile. Even if you only get one more of those, Loralai, it’s one more than you would get if I did what you’ve asked. Dying isn’t selfish. It isn’t selfless either. It just is, the same way taxes are due and commercials always take too long and the drivers outside your window have road rage. It’ll happen whether you want it to or not. Don’t lean into it.”

Converse to your own advice, you lean towards Loralai, adding, “Kick the bastard in the balls.”

On reflex, she gives you a confused, watery half-smile.

“Yes!” You cry, as though this is a great victory. “Just like that! Rip and tear your joy from the universe.”

That wins you a snort - though the amusement doesn’t last.

“I’m not strong enough to do that.” Loralai deflects, turning a hand over in your general direction. “I’m not like you. I can’t literally steal happiness from - banks, or whatever it is you rob.”

“Banks.” You admit, “Though usually their corporate offices instead of the average buildings. Irrelevant, however: how many of my fights do you actually see me win?”

Loralai frowned. “Uh….”

You don’t leave her hanging long, “It depends on your definition of ‘victory’ really - but if I count it like the heroes do, where a victory is when I have my opponent in my custody, I haven’t won a single fight in over ten years. My track record is abysmal.”

(This is not strictly true - but it does count for your fights with heroes. Interpersonal villain matters you handle rarely make the news.)

“So, what, you’re bad at your job?” Loralai says bluntly, sarcasm tingeing her voice.

“I’m fantastic at my job.” You can’t help the rebuttal, it’s too much in your nature. “Because even if I don’t take down the hero who comes after me - and let’s face it, they’ll keep sending them endlessly, it’s exhausting - I still do what I set out to do. Sometimes that’s steal something. Kill someone. Make a scene. On bad days, just get out and away. And if you use that metric, well, darling, my track record is spectacular.”

Loralai considers this for a moment, staring into the middle distance between you. It’s impossible to figure out what she’s actually thinking of.

“Your metaphors suck.”

Well okay then. “My metaphors are elegant contrivances -“ You give up when Loralai gives you a look, and sigh instead.

Still, what you’ve said seems to have made some difference. Loralai has stopped crying, and she doesn’t feel as.. raw, as before. You hope it’s the right kind of difference, and that you haven’t just chased her further into a shell. You wait for her to break the silence again.

“So you think I should live, for the people around me?” She challenges, indicating the flowers and cards. You both know that’s only a fragment of your argument, but you’re willing to play ball.

“Nope.” You reply succinctly. “I think you should live for you and your own experiences. However, I think you are currently in a position where you have to see your joys in others before you can see them for yourself. If they anchor you, use it.”

She’s staring at you now, expression unreadable. “And you think that will get better.”

You almost answer ‘yes’ - but you know that isn’t quite what she’s asking. There’s a second half to that statement that is a question, left unspoken: ‘will it get better before I die?’

And for all of your lies, you answer her honestly. “I don’t know.”

Loralai nods. You want to clarify, to explain that even a chance is a chance worth taking. You want to give her some of your own rage at the world, the defiance that makes it possible to simply refuse to die. The conviction that let you kill a god.

No, maybe not that. You’re not sure that would be a blessing after all.

“Okay.” She says, after several moments. “Fine. I get to live. For now. But when I die -“ Loralai’s attention abandons the far wall and the middle distance, zeroing in on you, “- if my life gets any worse between now and then, if I don’t get any more good stuff like you’ve described, I’m haunting you.”

You believe her. “I believe you.” You say solemnly. “And there are few things in this world more terrifying than a teenage ghost. No, that isn’t sarcasm, I’m serious. Once-“

—-

You spend the rest of the hour telling stories of the teenaged ghost you’d met once in New Orleans, back when that wasn’t quite anyone’s territory. It’s not nearly enough time to share all of her stories - but it is enough that you remember her fondly, and smell the faint scent of bergamot and citrus that always heralded her presence.

When you spoke to her more regularly, you teased her about being a ghost who smelled like Irish Spring, and she ensured your cape got caught on everything it possibly could. You feel a tug on it, as you are moving to leave, and understand the prompt.

“Here.” You tell Loralai, unclasping your cape from your shoulders, and draping it over the bed.

“Does this have magic powers, or something? Is it bulletproof?” Loralai lifts it’s edge, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. She’s in higher spirits, but the bags under her eyes have deepened. She’s also cold, though you don’t think you’d be able to get her to admit it.

“Nah.”

“Then why would I want it?” Remarkable, how little your status matters to teenagers. You aren’t sure if it’s your curse or a trait of the species.

“Capes are cool.” You reply confidently.

There are other reasons too - it gives your ghost friend an anchor to stay with her better, it’s warm, it will remind her this wasn’t a dream. If her family needs to, they can sell it to cover some of the medical bills, since (unlike some heroes and villains) you rarely leave a trace behind, and collectors would love to get ahold of one of your capes. Actually, Tallflawes might even buy it at an exorbitant price, just to taunt you with it. But this isn’t a lie: capes are cool.

“Whatever.” Loralai says sleepily, resting back on her pillows, your cape tucked up under her chin. “Goodbye, Synovus.”

“Goodbye, Loralai Weber.” You say gently. You aren’t sure if she even notices your shadows flip the switch on the bedside lamp, returning the room to darkness. Your shadows muffle your exit back into the hall.

You leave as quickly as possible, after that.

—-

The good thing about being a dramatic fool on purpose, is that when you are having a public meltdown, it can appear as though you are simply performing again. The shadows contorting and swirling around you? Ah, Synovus, making an entrance. Disappearing between one blink and the next to the unobservant, because you’ve turned and booked it into the dark? A classic exit.

Your minions know you too well for that facade to hold. They also know you too well to ask.

You stalk down the halls, lights seeming to ripple in your wake with the amount of shadows you’re dragging, like a toddler with their blanket on their way to throw a tantrum. But you skip the training room. You wind up in the kitchen, as Oflok watches from a distance.

You spend an indeterminable amount of time staring at the collection of alcohol. You don’t indulge, because you are terrified of what might happen if you lose control of yourself. You know you are a walking bomb. Your minions can partake as they like, however, and today, reminded of how destructive you are, you want very badly to join them. To get wasted beyond memory.

“I want you to kill me.”

You get as far as reaching up one hand for a bottle. You don’t know which, you didn’t bother to read the labels. You lower your hand. Spin on your heel. And leave.

—-

It’s Rosie and Doll who hover in the corner, silent witnesses while you dig through the cabinets in the infirmary. You grab the first ampoule of a drug that looks like it would force you out of your mind that you can get your hands on. You have a tray laid out with syringe, bandages, tourniquet, disinfectant wipes, before you realize what you’re doing.

“Does this look like a life worth living?”

You walk out without a word.

—-

The grave at the bottom of the island is not well tended. It is not a monument to be remembered. This is the third time you have visited it since you stopped obsessively checking for signs of disturbances, in case it’s occupant decided to crawl back out.

You tell the empty space about Loralai Weber. What she looked like, what she asked of you, what that means. This time, you’re free to cry, though whether it’s for her or yourself, you’ll never be able to parse. By the end, you are screaming in the dark cave, knowing it’s all pointless at this stage in the game.

The man in the grave could heal himself, when he wanted. And very rarely, when he was convinced it was ‘appropriate,’ he could heal others too. He wouldn’t have counted Loralai Weber as ‘appropriate’ for his gift. You would. It doesn’t matter, though.

It’s the one part of his powers you never inherited.

—-

[Thank you for reading Synovus: A Wishing Star - if you want to read more of Synovus, you can find the rest of their stories on my blog, in the pinned post. Further, if you want to find out more about the Make A Wish Foundation, you can read stories of children they've helped (in rather different ways than Synovus) on their website, or donate here.]

[I do not have a personal story to share for Loralai's inspiration. However, I did tap into my experiences as a chronically ill individual, and the mental state I experienced both before and during treatment. There are still days I wonder as Loralai does - but I wholeheartedly believe as Synovus says: This life is worth living. It is for you too.]

#synovus #synoverse #Synovus: A Wishing Star #tw cancer #please dm me if you feel additional tags are necessary! #reader discretion advised #tw suicidal ideation #tw implied child death #tw self destructive behavior

[imaginefan]

The New Baby

Klaus Mikaelson X Reader!Daughter

Word Count: 977

Requested: @emaz-0225

Request: Can you do an imagine for TVD where the reader is the daughter of Katherine Pierce and Klaus Mikaelson and she is adopted by Damon Salvatore in 1864 but in 2009 she goes back to Mystic Falls and She gets attracted to Jeremy Gilbert and one night in summer when Jeremy is high and the reader is drunk they sleep together and she gets pregnant with twins and she names them The girl Jaylynn Katerina and The boy Asher Conrad and she is protected by Damon and Stefan and when Klaus comes into town he goes Papa wolf and he let's Katherine be free from the chase.

When the twins are 9 months old. The reader comes to the mikaelson mansion freaking out because Asher is crying and won't eat and the only one to calm him down is Klaus who flashes his eyes ( Hybrid ) and Asher flashes his vamp and wolf eyes and he then has magic he and Jaylynn are tribrids and so Klaus makes Tyler get a blood bag and he then mixes it with the formula and Asher drinks it he was so hungry

A/N: I had to change the order of some events to make this work so some things might seem a little out of place in terms of Klaus' history.

You should have known the moment that it happened that you were going to have to explain it to multiple people, the issue was that you didn’t even know if you were able to have kids until this point, let alone how to raise them, you panicked the whole way through your pregnancy even with Damon and Stefan reassuring you that everything was going to be okay. You hadn’t expected that your kids would be the result of a drunken one night stand with your fathers, girlfriends brother… Yeah the family dynamic was going to be so weird

It was just before the birth that Klaus showed up and you weren’t sure that you should have babies around when he was in town causing trouble. That being said the moment that they were born you all the panic went out the window and you twin babies were the only thing that matter, now it would have been weird enough that he was even interested in you but then he started getting protective and you decided that the only way that you were going to get answers past the vague ones that you were getting from Damon, your adoptive father. “Explain it to me, what the hell is your stake in all this?” You asked as you looked at him. “Why do you care that I was pregnant, that I have children?” “They never told you…” He smirked as you frowned at him. “Told me what?” You asked. “That I’m your father.” He answered. “Why would I believe anything that you say?” You asked. “You can ask your mother if you like.” He suggested. “Or have they kept her identity from you as well.” “I know my mother is Katherine.” You answered. “Good then you can ask her.” He said as pulled out his phone “Katherine… No…I have someone here that you might want to meet… She needs you to confirm who her father is… You tell her the truth and I’ll give you your freedom back.” Klaus turned to you then. “She’ll be here soon.” “Why wait this long to see me then, if you are my father?” You asked. “Katherine hid you from me, I didn’t know where to find you, in fact finding you this time was a complete accident.” He explained. “Though the surprise that you had in store for me was completely unexpected.” “I never planned to have them, I didn’t think I could.” You mumbled. “Well given the hybrid side of you it could be the wolf genes that have allowed you to have children.” Klaus explained. “You’ve had other children?” You asked. “No just you.” He answered. “After you, my father sealed my wolf power, I’ve not been able to use it for a long time now.” “Oh.” You nodded as a shadow cast over the table. “At least I could count on those two idiots to look after you.” The voice of Katherine made you turn your head. “He’s my father?” You asked. “Yes.” Katherine answered, you had met her before and while she had never tried to kill you the way she had the others, you were collateral should you choose to get in the way, so your relationship was strained. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” “I didn’t think that it was relevant or that you even cared.” She explained, you looked between them both and shook your head. “Why are my parents 2 of the most emotionally challenged people that I have ever met?” You mumbled to yourself, Katherine rolled her eyes as Klaus chuckled softly (you were lucky he was in a good mood). “You know where to find me if you even need help.” Klaus said “with them and their nature.” “What are you talking about?” You asked. “They’ll be different, trust me.” He smirked before they both disappeared, you groaned as you pressed the heel of your palm to your eyes attempting to process what you had just been told, that is until parenthood called.

It was maybe a couple of days later when it happened Asher, your little boy would not stop crying, you had tried everything that usually worked, food, toileting, burping none of it worked and then you remembered what Klaus had said and decided that you had nothing else to lose given the fact that no one else would be able to help you. You walked up the mansion door and knocked, Tyler was the one that opened the door “what are you doing here?” He asked and you raised an eyebrow before gesturing for him to move. “You didn’t answer the question.” “Tyler move out of her way.” Klaus’ voice sounded from inside the house, for once he didn’t look like the monster that he had been pretending to be all this time. “To what do I owe the pleasure.” “You said that they would be different, is that why he won’t stop crying?” You asked. “Hmm.” Klaus hummed as he walked towards you. “May I?” He asked, you gently handed the little boy over now, wrapping your arms around the little girl and gently rocking her, you watched as Klaus flashed his eyes at Asher, whose eyes flashed back in response “he’s a tribrid.” “Tribrid?” You asked. “He’s a vampire, witch, werewolf mix, likely because of my family.” He explained. “What does that have to do with his crying?” You asked. “He’s hungry.” Klaus said. “I tried feeding him he doesn’t-” “Do you have his milk?” He asked and you nodded, handing over the bag filled with baby supplies. “Tyler get a blood bag.” It was only a few minutes later that Asher had calmed and finally gone to sleep, you sighed as you looked at him finally settled. “They need blood?” You asked. “Only a small amount, that will change as they get older though.” He explained. “Right.” You nodded. “I can help you, if you want.” He offered. “Help me?” You asked. “You have a whole family that would be willing to help.” He explained. “Just give us a chance.” “One.” You said and he nodded.

*Part 2*

Requests and general question!

#the vampire diaries one shot #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries #klaus mikealson imagine #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson one shot #klaus mikaelson #imagine #one shot #oneshot #reader insert #x reader #female reader

[that-one-pretty-bitch]

𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓋𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓏𝑒𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝓅𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓉𝒶𝑔𝑜𝓃𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇n𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝓎 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒~

𝕌𝕟𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖, 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕖 𝕒 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙? 𝕆𝕣 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕓𝕠𝕥𝕙 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕕?

( What if Dion Agriche were to fall in love with a reader like Diana? )

A lost soul,

He lives but hardly talks

He is waiting for her,

The memories flooded his mind, as he remembered her delicate figure, rosy champagne colored eyes and gold hair that represented the sun. She had him wrapped around her finger, there is nothing that she would ask of that he wouldn’t do. If she asked him, he would kill himself for her. He was a moth drawn to the flame, the flame being her aurous hair. She would never be unloved. Everyone he knew adored her. Roxana found solace in her free spirit, nobody could tell Y/n what to do. Jeremy adored the way Y/n approached things with a brazen manner, she was never afraid and never seen without a smile on her face. Her smile was so contagious, her laugh made others lips curl into a silly grin. Y/n was always so straightforward, if she wanted something she would get it, no matter what it took. Maria was enchanted by her and was always present whenever y/n danced. To Maria Y/n resembled a flower fairy, delicate and graceful. Maria adored the way her body moved so elegantly, it was as if the wind and skies were dancing with her as well. She was everything, everyone’s sweetheart. However, he was nothing. He was a man used as a tool by his father and unloved by his mother. He barely ever spoke, he lived as though he were a corpse. He hoped one day he would be able to feel something, anything would be fine, just something. So that he could be good enough for her and not so dull as his mother always told him.

In front of this photo of former times

He, he is not crazy

He believes in it, that's all

He stared at a portrait of y/n in his room with glossy eyes, he had portraits of y/n everywhere in his room. He gently placed his hand onto the portrait and he felt his heart shatter. This was a portrait of y/n feeding him her favorite chocolates and when he was first introduced to lippe tea, that he now drank everyday to feel spiritually closer to her. Oh y/n, you had only been here for a few years, yet captivated everyone's heart, you truly are a cruel woman. He lay down on his couch recalling nights that y/n had spent in his room, refusing to take the bed and sleeping on the couch instead. Her scent still lingered, it was hard to get over her. It had only been a day since he lost her, yet everything was falling apart. Only nine months back, he had been so happy upon receiving the news, he didn’t know that this would have ended the life of his beloved. How the scent of blood had filled the room, the way she laid lifeless on her bed. While the midwife held a small baby in her arms. He lost every bit of sanity he had at that scene, brutally murdering every servant that was in sight before the other residents had to knock him out. It took all of Roxana, Jeremy, Grizelda, Charlotte and the other children’s strength to manage to overpower Dion. The others felt crushed as well. Now who could possibly sing Jeremy to sleep every night? Who could Jeremy complain to about his life? Who would calm him down when he was hurting…. Who would nurse Roxana back to health whenever she went overboard with the poisonous butterflies? Who would Roxana have late night conversations under the stars with? Who would she dance with? Who would calm down Charlotte in an instant? Who would embrace Charlotte whenever she was hurt? Who would kiss all of the scratches better on Charlotte’s face? Who would Grizelda gossip with? Who would be Grizelda’s best friend? Most importantly, who would love Dion, as she had loved him?

He sees her everywhere

Standing, he is waiting for her

A rose in his hand,

Grizelda was the first to learn about the news from y/n, being y/n’s best friend she started to worry when she noticed y/n’s stomach hurt every morning and y/n feeling nauseous most of the time for a few days. So as any concerned best friend would do, she offered to take y/n to the clinic, however y/n could barely walk. Helping y/n up, and slinging her arm around her shoulder in an effort to support her weight she carried y/n to the carriage. Y/n was in a seemingly bad condition when they had reached the clinic. After a thorough examination, the doctor concluded that y/n was just fine, her pregnancy symptoms were simply harsher than what usual people had. Grizelda was over the moon to hear the news, she was going to be an aunt! Y/n couldn’t wait to tell her husband the news, meanwhile Grizelda could hardly keep in her excitement as she swung her arms around her best friend who was still extremely unwell. Both women walked back to the mansion quietly, that's when y/n saw Dion walking towards her room. He had seen that y/n’s appetite had increased the past few days and had brought her some chocolates for the both of them. 

“Dion darling!!” She screamed

This was Grizelda’s que to leave, she didn’t need the lovey-dovey couple to make her feel single.

“Yes?” Dion sighed

For someone unwell, she was definitely very enthusiastic.

“Calm down love, what's the matter?” He asked looking her up and down

“You're going to be a father!” she screamed

Dion froze. It took him a few minutes to process the information and when he finally processed the information he went and embraced his wife who had been nervously staring at him. He had gently lifted her off the ground and spun her around with a soft smile adorning his lips.

“I’m going to take care of our child, I don’t want to be like my father,” He said, staring at y/n’s stomach.

“I hope so too~ But I know you Dion, you will make a wonderful father~~ my loveeee~~” Y/n laughed while being spun around.

Maria heard the sound of laughter and walked towards it, she walked in on her son spinning his wife around.

Y/n met Maria’s gaze and jumped out of Dions arms and into hers,

“Mama~~ you're going to be a grandmother!!”

It also took Maria quite some time to process everything she had just said. Maria was holding a rose in her hand and picked the flower up and tucked it behind y/n’s ear. She then strengthened the embrace. “I hope the baby looks like you, i’m so glad to hear this news,” Maria had tears near the corner of her eyes. She kissed y/n’s cheek and skipped off happily.

Later that evening

Jeremy came skipping into her room as well,

“Y/n!!! Fountain told me that you love HIM more than ME the nerve of that guy!!! Hmph… you love ME more right?” Jeremy came in complaining

Y/n was laying in her bed once again feeling unwell, the maids were sent out to get her a comfortable nightgown to sleep in. Suddenly his foul mood turned into worry. He rushed to her side of the bed.

“Y/n! Are you okay?? Why are you laying down?? You don’t look well!” Jeremy was panicking.

“I’m fine…it's just…How do you feel about being an uncle?”

He had just learned how children were made a few months ago, so he was a little bothered and flustered to hear this news…

“I’m going to be an uncle??? HOW DARE DION TOUCH YOU!? I’ll kill him!” Jeremy started telling you multiple torcher methods he was going to try on Dion causing you to sweatdrop.

“Think about it Jeremy, you will be an uncle-” Y/n sighed

“Damn right!! I’ll be the best uncle in existence,” Jermey’s mood switched completely.

Thank god he wasn’t going to murder your husband.

Jeremy’s loud mouth had informed the rest of the Agriche estate and everyone knew the news by the next morning. The next morning when you were busy eating the ice cream Dion had brought you very early that day, Roxana walked in to congratulate you.

“Oh y/n, I am truly fortunate to have someone like you in my life and I feel blessed for once, to know that there will be two of you,” She sighed

“Thank you so much for your kind words, Roxana. Just in case anything happens you’ll take care of it for me right?” Y/n asked

“With my life, I owe everything to you,” Roxana pledged

“You are just the sweetest,” y/n sighed, as Roxana was taking her leave.

Making Roxana Smile ever so slightly. Now all of this was a distant memory.

Apart from her, he is expecting nothing

Nothing around him makes sense

And the air feels heavy

“Please, love our daughter as you have loved me,” Y/n rapidly said, ready to lose her life any moment.

“Y/n…don’t leave me…please…I need you,” There was evident hurt in Dion’s voice, it made y/n’s heart shatter

“I-i can’t believe i’m going to lose you,” He said crying into y/n’s shoulder as she slowly lost her life.

“I will love our daughter, I will make sure she knows what a wonderful mother she would have had,” he sighed, a lovesick smile across his lips

As Dion walked out of the room disheartened and empty killing servants along the way, the midwife timidly handed him a small baby. His baby. He would not kill her, she helped deliver this bundle of joy to him after all. He would protect his daughter with his life, she was the only thing that his wife had left him with and he would make sure to stand by his word. Dion refused to hand his baby to anyone. Nobody had asked for the baby girl either as they were all grieving the loss of y/n.

Jeremy was the first to approach Dion and place a hand on his shoulder. Even though he hated Dion, he knew that Dion was suffering the most out of them all. After all, Y/n was the only thing Dion loved and now Y/n was gone.

“C-can I hold her?” Jeremy crocked 

Dion looked hesitant but then remembered how y/n had always doted and adored Jeremy, so he reluctantly handed him the bub. The tiny baby had her eyes closed but Jeremy noticed that she had inherited her mother’s beautiful golden hair. Bitterly smiling, Jeremy began to stroke the small amount of hair.

“L-look she has y/n’s hair,” Jeremy said in an attempt to cheer everyone up

Everyone rushed towards Jeremy, Sierra cried harder looking at the beautiful hair, while Maria forced a smile across her pained face. Roxana smiled hoping that she would be able to hold the baby next, after all she had promised y/n she would look after her child. Grizelda had covered her face entirely looking at the baby, she couldn’t believe that her dearest friend whom she shared many wonderful memories with was now gone She would never see her again. Truth hit her really hard, she felt paralyzed as she reached out her hand to touch the baby. Charlotte just hoped that if heaven really did existed, y/n would watch over them.

An absent expression,

He is alone, he often talks to her

He, He is not crazy

 “Y/n.. today our daughter opened her eyes and you wouldn’t believe it but.. She has your eyes…your eyes have always been so beautiful. I'm glad our daughter looks like you. You were the only thing I was living for but now…My daughter…I’m glad I met you y/n. Even if we weren’t able to spend the rest of our lives together, I have no regrets for meeting you.” He sighed speaking to a photo of y/n beside his bed. He heard the crying of his baby coming from the cot in his room and he went towards the child, picking it up gently and embracing it. As he pet the baby’s back gently in an attempt to calm her down, he pointed at a portrait of y/n on his wall,

“That's your mother, isn’t she beautiful?” He said admiring the way she looked in the painting.

The baby in his hands cooed and made grabby hands towards the picture of her mother trying to reach for her. Only to feel the surface of a canvas.

“I wish she were here too, she would have loved you dearly,” Dion said, feeling the fabric of the canvas in his hands.

 𝐼 𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒶𝓃𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒾𝓋𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒾'𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 :,(

#diana wmmap #wmmap crossover #wtptflob #way to protect the female leads older brother #dion agriche #dion agrece #dion agriche x reader #Maria Agriche #lant agriche #grizelda agriche #roxana agriche #jeremy agriche #agriche family #agriche family x reader #manwaha x reader #manwaha stories #fanfiction #novels x reader

[strawberrybyers]

episode 3x09 might be one of my favorite episodes of succession.

the acting is fucking phenomenal

jeremy strong?? you put your strussy into the role of kendall roy and i respect that!!

roman saying it’s no wonder a waiter was dead since he couldn’t get a drink at shiv’s wedding lmfaoo he’s so unserious i love him

shiv and roman comforting kendall healed a part of my heart. and seeing the 3 of them unify to stand up to logan?? that’s so important to me. i want them to take down logan so badly

despite all the characters having self-interest motives, there’s something about tom that annoys me so bad. i think it’s because he’s very sly?? he reminds me more of someone that would actually be in these multi-billionaire companies. someone who looks and acts approachable but is actually vindictive?? i used to feel bad for tom, but this act of betrayal he’s committed against the roy children… i won’t stand for it!!

something that really shows how amazing the actors are, is when the roy children speak to logan, you can see the battle of them trying to be an adult and stand up to him vs their inner child who freezes. it’s just amazing how incredible the acting is in this show. just wow

#only 1 season left now i’m sad :(( #succession #succession hbo #kendall roy #shiv roy #roman roy #tom wambsgans #logan roy

[pynkhues]

So I know people tend to have lots and lots of opinion about dog pound but more often then not, I’ve seen a tendency for folks to give Roman’s recollection of the game (that dog pound was bulling/abusive/messed up in some way shape or form) the most weight…and this candidly baffles me for a bunch of reasons. I know the actor's opinions don't need to be given weight, but I see tons of weight given to actor interviews for Succession in other contexts and both Jeremy and Kieran (per an interview with Kieran around S3) signed on to the read that dog pound wasn’t traumatizing but was instead a rewritten memory because Roman generally felt like a victim and I tend to agree with that read. It also kind of fits in more with the dynamic we generally see Kendall and Roman have throughout the show and especially in Seasons 1-3. Add to this that Roman was around 4 when this took place if we're taking his word for it (making Kendall under 10 and Connor early 20’s-ish?) and again I’m wondering why his memory is given so much more weight than Connors.  Do you have any view or thoughts as to why Roman is treated as the more reliable narrator when it comes to dog pound and more broadly how do you tend to think about the siblings various contradictory childhood memories?  

It's an interesting one, isn't it?

I agree with you (and the actors, haha), that I think the dog pound wasn't traumatising or that it even really meant anything at the time they were playing it. It's just a children's game that took on a different meaning in their adulthood as Roman and Kendall's particular dynamic crystalised. I talked about it a little bit in this post about games on the show if you're interested in reading more about that in particular!

I do think the context of Roman bringing up the dog pound game when he did is also important and not talked about as much as it should be. After all, Kendall's kind of seen to have the more defined arc over these episodes between the failed coup, his relapse, then the upswing of him getting in bed with the enemy (Sandy and Stewy).

Roman though has a really complicated arc too - it's his inability to stand with Kendall which makes the coup fail, and his elevation as prized son in Austerlitz is undermined by what I tend to interpret as a mix of guilt and shame first over letting Kendall down and then over his relapse, which bleeds into a degree of protectiveness which we don't usually see from him, both in that episode and in the next (it's an underrated moment, but Roman offering to make everyone stop doing drugs at the party before they go in in 1.08 is very special to me).

But there's a shift then in 1.08 which is triggered by Stewy pretty blatantly cutting him out of something and folding Kendall back in. It's this teetering new power dynamic where any guilt he felt is swallowed up by the realisation he doesn't want to lose this new station as the dog at their father's side, and I think he uses this distorted memory from childhood to justify his anger and try to reinforce this position. Kendall thought Roman was the weak dog once, but he's not, Kendall is. Kendall's the one out, Kendall's the weird one, Kendall is, as Shiv aptly put it in 1.01, not emotionally strong and has addiction issues.

(Interestingly too, while it's not in the episode, in the 1.08 script it shows that Roman's there when Kendall realises their dad's sent Greg to keep an eye on him, and I think there's this interesting emphasis there in Roman realising Kendall needs a babysitter twice - himself in the last ep and Greg in this one - which for him reinforces Kendall as the 'weak' one.)

He weaponises a long past memory that he treats as an immovable truth to not just play victim, but I think as a yardstick to show how far he's come, and how far Kendall's fallen.

As for why Roman's treated as the more reliable narrator, I think there are a few reasons for it. In particular, I do think Kendall is the Known Liar of the show, haha. All the kids lie to varying degrees of course, but Kendall really lies in a way that I tend to think can feel more insidious, particularly as he lies in such a wildly broad spectrum - sometimes it's aching self-flagellation, sometimes it's mortifying self-aggrandisement, sometimes it's just straight up pathetic, and sometimes it's just the awkward vulnerability of trying to save face (particularly when he's relapsing).

We don't see Roman explicitly lie all that much on the show, at least not in the way many of the other characters do. In some ways he's actually the opposite to Kendall because Kendall tends to use lies as a means of defense or a way to hide while Roman absolutely and often weaponises a truth. Orrr at least I'd say that's what he would like to think of himself? I actually think Roman lies all the time, it's just less through actual lying like Kendall does, and more through undermining the truth or playing around in the grey of it. He likes to lean on a question and see what it does to the truth, like he knows that it's malleable and wants to see the shape it could take, and that's overall something I find super interesting about his character, and I think feeds into a distortion of truth / memory.

But back to your question about why people see Roman as the more reliable narrator of their shared past, yes, I think it's viewed through the prism of Kendall being the one more likely to lie, but I also think it's due to Roman's abuse being easier to understand and more textual than Kendall and Shiv's. We see him get hit, both Shiv and Kendall talk about Roman being hit, Roman jokes about it and diminishes it, and even in 3.09 blames Kendall and Shiv for it (I actually think there's such an interesting parallel there to Roman being abandoned with the waterpistols and the story of Shiv being abandoned with the chocolate milk in the car, but that's a whole other story, haha).

We get childhood stories from Roman more than any of his siblings, so he feels like the one who thinks about it the most. Is that true? I don't know, but I get why that would make people put more stock in his role as the narrator of it.

As for the contradictory childhood memories, I do think the show is interested in the subjectiveness of memory overall, and the way people influence the past and make history malleable, and I think that exploring that through the very specific context of a family like the Roy's, who have a loose relationship with the truth at the best of times, is a pretty remarkable way to do it.

#my nephews were playing puppy and person again last night while i was facetiming them and the 5yo licked my sister's phone screen lmao #the look on her face in the background was hilarious #i actually just wrote up a huge second part of this about trauma on childhood brain development in regards to the roy's but it was long #and kind of off topic #and also a bit science-y #so i took it out #but let me know if you'd like to read that too #i've just been working in that space again so it is f r e s h #haha #succession meta #kendall + roman #i'm also always interested of these little moments where roman actually is protective of kendall #and particularly how shiv weaponised it against him in living+ #kendall roy #roman roy #hbo succession #welcome to my ama

[birdsthatsingaftermidnight]

Today, in UK Politics

I'm going to have to start putting a date on these things. I'm referring to 20/10/22.

The Prime Minister resigned. She lasted nearly nine Jane Greys (8.889 if you want to be exact), or 4.4 Scaramuccis.

So anyway, Liz is out and this means there's someone new to come in. Yay! Hopefully this is the last new PM before Christmas.

In the July leadership contest, when the Tories finally realised that maybe, just maybe, Boris was a terrible Prime Minister, a candidate has to be nominated by 20 Tory MPs to be included in the first round of voting's ballot. They then held the vote, and anyone with less than 30 votes was withdrawn from the competition. Voting continued with the MP with the lowest number of votes being withdrawn (and others withdrawing even if they did scrape in) until two people were left, and then all Conservative Party members, that's MPs as well as paid up members, then voted. It's obviously a lengthy process (this started in July and ended with Liz Truss the winner in September).

This time they've decided it'll all get done by the end of next week. Nominations close on Monday, and anyone with 100 nominations goes through. Given that there's currently 357 sitting MPs, that obviously means a maximum of three people going through. "If three candidates reach the threshold there will be an vote of Conservative MPs. The top two will then be subject to an indicative vote of Conservative MPs before going froward [sic] to an online vote of Party members. This will be completed by 28 October 2022. If only one candidate secures the required nominations there will be no confirmatory vote of Party members and the candidate will be confirmed leader on Monday 24 October 2022."

In case the last two bullet points were too lengthy, here's the TL;DR - I've had colds last longer than this leadership contest.

But why take your time over an important decision like who should run the actual country. It feels like something you should rush, right?

Jeremy Hunt says he doesn't want to be in charge. Probably very wise of him, honestly. (Seriously, though, remember when he was the worst Tory MP you could think of?! What sweet summer children we were!).

Neither does Michael Gove (remember when he was also in the running for worst Tory MP you could think of? Ah, the naivety of trusting vaguely to the political process).

Jacob Rees-Mogg, allegedly the Business Secretary, but we all know he's really the Minister for the 18th Century / a Victorian scarecrow haunted by a dead Victorian industrialist, is said to be encouraging people to nominate Boris Johnson, who apparently does appear to be in the running.

Boris Johnson.

The good news is, the suggestion of nominating Boris has immediately split the party. Because that's what they need. More divisions.

BBC political correspondent Ione Wells said that some senior Conservatives have said they would consider standing down and thus triggering by-elections if Boris gets the job back. On the other hand, Cabinet Office Minister Brendan Clarke Smith insists that the former prime minister was a proven winner who could restore his party's fortunes. This must be true, because everybody's favourite Boris fan, Nadine Dorries, says he's a winner! Her credibility - for want of a better term - is currently a little shot right now.

Penny Mordaunt, currently the Leader of the House, appears to be in the running, and so does Rishi Sunak, who was Chancellor of the Exchequer until he resigned in July and kicked off the whole getting rid of Boris things.

Labour leader Sir Keir Starmer said his party was on an election footing, with a manifesto at the ready. I imagine they've been getting it into electioneering-ready status amidst the surprise that the Tories, handed a metaphorical rope by Labour's tabling amendments on the fracking legislation that had to be voted on, put said metaphor around their own necks and started shoving each other off the equally metaphorical battlements.

Also demanding an election is Liberal Democrat leader Sir Ed Davey, Scotland's First Minister Nicola Sturgeon, and Wales's First Minister Mark Drakeford.

Not that they can force one, unless Labour can convince enough Tories to vote with them in a vote of no confidence, which they're unlikely to try for anyway. It's so much more useful for them if the Tories keep shoving people who cannot do the job into the PM job and burn their own party down from the inside.

Which will make a nice change for Labour, who over the last few years have been cheerfully engaging in the left wing's favourite hobby - schisming. Gosh, but the left love a good schism.

The next general election is not required to take place until at least 2024 (and by January 2025 at the latest) and, at this stage, it looks unlikely that date will be brought forward.

Because we're British, this is also happening, and it is magnificent.

#uk politics #bye bye liz #larry for PM #WHY OH WHY WOULD YOU BRING BORIS BACK #the man was ousted because he was JUST AWFUL #I'm sure the official paperwork phrased it differently #BUT HE WAS AWFUL #What even is happening #quickest election ever

[saltydumples]

I'm rewatching AVPM and I just had to make some PR1 incorrect quotes:

(I'm putting it under the keep reading tab because the post ended up being kinda long, oop--)

Junk: *singing* Are you kids ready to fight a dragon?

Junk: Of course you aren't, you're just children! What the hell am I thinking?

Kara: Now, let's leave these big baby childish jerks alone.

Chilled: *entering* Did someone say ChilledChaos?

Platy:WelcooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO--

Ze: Hey, guys, chill. I'm busy.

Ze: *commences epic piano playing*

Kara: *takes his keyboard away*

Everyone else: *immediate panic*

Skadj: Woah. Woah! WOAH!

Shubble: No, no, no, NO--

Platy: Did you just hear something?

Jeremy: No. Only quiet. Maybe...one raindrop...

Skadj: ...and even if we do, Cheesy over there will probably tell on us.

Kara: Cheesy won't tell--

Cheesy: Oh yes I certainly will!

Chilled: I love you all...

Chilled: Except you Tay, I can't fucking stand you.

Shubble: When I rule the world, I'll plants flowers~

Kara: When I rule the world, I'll have SNAKES!

Skadj: No - NO! I'm miserable!

Skadj: *points dramatically at the massive chocolate bar he's eating*

Kara: Drop the attitude ZeRoyalViking!

Kara: You are acting like Garfield on a Monday...

Ze: >:0

Chilled: It's just like the Spiderman movie - haven't you seen that? MJ and Peter Parker can't be together.

Ze: But the whole point of Spiderman 2 was that MJ and Peter Parker could be together in the end.

Chilled: Yeah, I know, but the point of Spiderman 3 is everything sucks and that falls to shit!

Chilled: Ze, what I'm trying to say is...I don't want my life to be like Spiderman 3. I hated that movie.

Skadj: Do you want to kick your own ass or should we do it for you?

Greg: Yeah!

Cheesy: Oh, uh, well I guess if you're giving me the option I'll...I'll kick my own ass.

Chilled: Nobody help me! I've gotta do this by myself.

Courtilly: He doesn't mean that! It's not how he operates. Who are you going to use as a human shield this time?

Ze: *walks foward*

Kara: *pulls him back* Ze.

Ze: Oh.

Platy: Is 'okay' good?

Jeremy: Platy! Okay is wonderful!

*slowmo running and emotional, happy music commences*

Chilled: *crying* You think that killing people might make them like you but it doesn't...

Chilled: It just makes people dead!

#private recording 1 #kara corvus #zeroyalviking #chilledchaos #skadj #aplatypuss #incorrect quotes #jeremy dooley

[beebeetheclown]

🚨there’s a new Jeremy Strong video out?!🚨

How am I only seeing it now?? Does no one else know about it? Am I imagining it? To be honest, this interview does feel like a fever dream ahaha. Like why did they make him stand up the whole time? I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem real.

Link to YouTube video

“It’s an arena where people can express a lot but it’s also and arena where there’s a lot of judgement.” - Jeremy Strong on why he doesn’t have social media.

This is the exact reason why I only now have tumblr and Pinterest haha. Delete tik tok, Instagram, etc. trust me it is so much more peaceful imo. I love only having tumblr and Pinterest as there’s no judgement on those apps for me. (So basically, I have certain social media apps still because I’m a crazy fan girl and that’s all I use social media for lol.)

Also him mentioning the British children’s book author with the same name!! I remember seeing the children’s books online and was about to buy them all💀 but then I realized it was the wrong Jeremy haha.

#jeremy strong #he looks so good #I saw a comment where someone said he is awkward🙄🙄 #that commenter can step in mud and rain puddles then get splashed with dirty rain water as a semi truck drives passed #and then their shoes can get stuck in the mud😌

[dramaticl0vers]

Fear, Trauma, and Chaos Theory (Husband! Ian Malcolm x Wife! Reader)

(Let's imagine that Ian's children are yours, and that you were the only "Mrs. Malcolm", I'm too lazy to write)

You were an expert paleontologist who had met Malcolm early in college.

At first, they both hated each other and couldn't even stand to see each other, given the fact that their ideas contrasted terribly.

But after a while, they realized that they were an exceptional team on the science side, before realizing that they actually liked each other.

That's how you ended up married to Ian Malcolm, a handsome scientist and mathematician who's obsessed with chaos theory.

After a while, you two had your three children.

Elizabeth Jones Malcolm, age 8, Luke Jones Malcolm, age 5, and finally, Jeremy Jones Malcolm, age 2.

Your husband and your children were without a doubt the things you loved the most in this world, but your love for science and the dinosaurs meant that you couldn't refuse Hammond's invitation to go to Jurassic Park.

And everything was going great, in the helicopter they both sat next to each other, and they even held hands during the Hammond documentary.

But the problems started when your husband started flirting with Dr. Sattler.

You just looked at Alan, who gave you a look of embarrassment and understanding.

But the seriousness of the matter began when you told Ian how you felt, he accused you of being: "Tantrum and Childish", so you got out of the car and got in with Tim and Lex.

Oh, what a bad decision.

The T-Rex attacked, you and Tim fell down the ravine into the tree, and Malcolm ended up passed out with a badly injured leg.

During the entire stay in the bunker, Malcolm prayed to God for your well-being, blaming himself for your disappearance.

And this is how it is now, you were limping as fast as you could to the convertible with Tim, Lex, Ellie and Alan at your sides.

-"Y/n!"-

Your husband yelled to see you walking with difficulty, being helped by Alan.

-"Ian!"-

When you got in the car, you hugged him as tight as you could, avoiding not rubbing his wounds.

Tears ran down both cheeks as they kissed each other desperately.

-"I'm sorry, my love, I'm so sorry, everything that happened to you was my fault"-

He told you while joining their foreheads, you sobbed.

Without separating their joined foreheads, you wrapped your arms around Ian's neck.

-"Mhmm, Mrs. and Mr. Malcolm, we are here, we are childrens please"-

Timie said, you laughed and looked at him while still hugging your husband. you patted the heads of both children.

-"I know Timie, I know"-

#ian malcolm #ian malcolm x reader #jurassic park #caostheory

[jade-muffins]

Mechanical Minds AU

(A fnaf au)

Prologue

"Collect as many as you can, but make sure not to hurt each other, now!" The man in the golden rabbit mascot suit said as at least a dozen children scrambled to pick up a load of tokens that had been scattered about. He had to jump back with a small yelp as children went running past his feet.

"Um...excuse me, Mr. Bonnie?" The man in the mascot suit looked down to see a small boy with with brown hair and green eyes staring up at him. He was fidgeting with the end of his shirt. "Can I have a photo with you?" He asked quietly. He couldn't have been any older than what, 7?

"Oh, of course!" The golden rabbit responded cheerfully. The boy's eyes lit up.

"Go on, Jeremy!" His mother nodded. The boy, known as Jeremy, actually smiled, but still approached rather shyly. Standing next to him, the golden rabbit, with the permanent grin of the mask, put a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder and put up a hand as if he were waving. His mother snapped her photo, just happy to see the bright smile of joy on her son's face. The boy ran up to her, excitedly asking to see the photo. She laughed and looked to the mascot. "Thank you! Jeremy, say thank you to the bunny."

"Thank you, Bonnie!" Jeremy grinned and waved as he held his mom's hand, both of them making their way to the small arcade.

"Any time!" The man said joyfully and waved back. He glanced at the clock. 12:30 PM. He gave a long sigh. Break time.

○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

"Rowdy bunch today, William?"

"Bloody wild!" The man, William, laughed as he set the head of the golden rabbit mascot suit down on the safe room table. "I tell you, Henry, they were practically piling on top of each other to get to those tokens!" He exclaimed as he started to carefully take the rest of the suit off. "I was surprised they didn't start trying to knock each other out!"

"Well....kids can be cutthroat," Henry shrugged with a little chuckle of his own.

"I guess so...." William sighed. As he finished taking the suit off, he had been carefully assembling it again. Clicking a button near the back of the rabbits head set off a loud click. It leaned forward before opening its eyes. It's green eyes lit up as it looked at William and Henry.

"Oh Mr. Afton, did you see how happy we made him?" The animatronic practically jumped to its feet, joy in his tone. "He was so shy but he was so excited when he finally got the photo!"

"Your friendly appearance most certainly helped," William smiled.

"Aw, thank you, Mr. Afton, but you're the one who designed and created me! The credit goes to you!" The animatronic says, almost bowing.

"Sheesh, you're making me think I should implement an advanced AI in Fredbear too," Henry laughs. "It certainly seems to be working in Spring Bonnie."

"I'd never shy away from sharing some of my techniques with you, Henry. If this system works in both Spring Bonnie AND Fredbear, I think this could be the start of a new chapter!" William says with a spark of ambition in his eyes. "We'd be the pinnacle of robotics and entertainment for our time! My Spring Bonnie and your Fredbear as the faces of it...."

Henry grinned at his friend's enthusiasm. "Alright, I see where you're coming from...but I think we still need to take it a bit easy. I'm all for moving forward, but there's a difference between recklessness and a good steady pace," he cautioned him, though lightly.

"I'm just saying, it could advance our careers! We'd surpass our competitors! Like Remy's..." A look of distaste came across his face.

"William, they have three restaurants. That's only one more than us," Henry pointed out.

"I know, I know....but bears are more cuddly and inviting than rats, just saying...." William shrugged, putting his hands up. They were interrupted by a knock at the door. William answered. "Oh, Christopher! What's the matter?"

"Nothing much," the young blonde, roughed-up-looking employee shrugged. "Just that your kid and his friends are climbing on arcade machines again."

William didn't need to think long. He gave a long sigh. "Michael?"

"Yeah I think so. It's not the one that cries all the time, he's the loud one with the gray tank top and fox mask."

"Definitely Michael," William murmured, a new exhaustion in his tone. "I'll go take care of him, but in the meantime, Spring Bonnie you are free to return to the stage and Henry...." he turned back to them. "I'm not your boss, do as you wish," he said with a small smile.

"Right away, sir!" Spring Bonnie replied, already ready to go. Henry just gave a smile and nodded.

"I might follow behind. Wouldn't be surprised if Charlotte is watching from the side for entertainment."

"Alright then, let us go," William started, fixing his tie and walking out the door.

#fnaf #fnaf au #William Afton #Spring Bonnie #Henry Emily #Michael Afton #(okay ig he's mentioned) #William Afton fnaf #Henry Emily fnaf #Michael Afton fnaf #Fnaf Mechanical Minds AU #Mechanical Minds AU #I don't think Christopher will get his own tag cuz he's basically a minor character oc

[its-to-the-death]

Bracket B thoughts:

"Yodel-Aadle-Eedle-Idle-Oo" is better than I expected from the movie's reputation, but I really only have so much tolerance for yodeling. Also the lines "You'll suffer till the end of time / Enduring tortures, most of which rhyme" from "Robot Hell" are hilarious.

...It's fucking "In the Hall of the Mountain King." I don't need to explain that one.

"Kidnap the Sandy Claws" isn't as bad as I remembered it being, but the verses that don't rhyme really irk me for some reason, and Lock+Shock+Barrel's singing is just...not great. So I'll give this one to "Big Shot."

"Wait for It," I will begrudgingly admit, is a good song. It's not the best villain song in that matchup, though. It's not even Burr's best villain song (that would be "The Room Where It Happens"). "Want You Gone" still very clearly has GLaDOS' trademark condescension, snark, and vitriol towards Chell, but it's also mixed with her complicated need for her to be around that adds a lot of emotional nuance to her insulting goodbye. Does she really want Chell gone because she's a pain in the ass, or because she knows keeping her in Aperture will hurt her? Does she want Chell to stay to keep testing her, or because she's her only friend? Honestly, probably some of both columns. GLaDOS has very good villain songs.

"Magic Dance" just feels like an excuse to have David Bowie do David Bowie things while singing a David Bowie song alongside minions whose singing...really sucks. "Meant to Be Yours" is a really intense encapsulation of JD's character, swinging from slow, emotional expressions of love to fast-paced, aggressive vows of violence.

"Great at Crime" is just a fucking bop, IDK. It's very catchy and goofy (in an intentional way).

Both "The Mob Song" and "Biggering" are very good, honestly. Personal preference for me.

Have you heard that guitar in "E.G.G.M.A.N"?! That shit SLAPS. It makes the phrase "I am the Eggman" sound cool.

"Look Away" is...really just not a Villain Song. Doesn't focus on Olaf enough. "There Ain't Nothin But Bad Days Ahead" is not exactly what I'd call good, but it's more fitting for this tournament.

...fuck IDK, I voted for "Who Will Know" because it seemed underappreciated, but I get why "Nothing Left to Lose" is winning. That one is really good. Maybe I should have gone for that instead.

All of the IEYTD theme songs kick ass and "Cog in the Machine" is no exception. Those vocals are powerful and emotional and very good.

"Love Doesn't Stand A Chance" confuses me because it has Regina calling Snow White a "bitch," but also can't show her doing any villainy more intense than childish mayhem like ripping a grandma's knitting and pushing a dwarf over. The tone is very confused. Also, Jeremy Jordan sings the English version of "Hurricane" and I'm a sucker for him belting about justice.

"Les Poissons" is...fine. But "Hero" and the scene it accompanies are some of the few things I actually like about RWBY, which says a lot about how good that song is.

"Heffalumps and Woozles" is not about actual villains but mere products of Pooh's imagination, so I am disqualifying it in my books on the same grounds as "Look Away." Also, "The Hounds" is pretty damn good.

I really appreciate the sheer drama of Raphael singing his own damn boss theme, and I honestly could not give a shit about that rich white girl.

I always like a good Weird Al, and "Let The Pun Fit the Crime" is very good, but "The Pitiful Children" had already seared itself in my brain as one of my favorite villain songs.

I’m right there with in Great at Crime. Epithet Erased songs are just so good lyrically.

#pulling from the pot of asks #villain song showdown

[amypihcs]

HELLO!! The problem of Thor Bridge! Let's start right away!

Watson is in a romantic mood (and today all in orange! for double spooktober!)

Nu, poor Holmes tend to have seasonal depression! Also, let's go in order. Holmes and Watson are living together in a house with a yard! Uhm... have they already moved to Sussex? UUUHM! Watson is in any case dressing in their bedroom feeling very romantic and when he hops down the stairs, he finds... A CREEPILY CHEERY HOLMES! It's also with joy that i hereby headcanon that Holmes loves Halloween

I love how this story begins! With Watson making a deduction!

Watson gets to Holmes, gives him a kissy and asks him to share the case he's working on, Holmes is SO happy that Watson starts making deductions on him now and Holmes gets to tell Watson to have breakfast before reasoning on the case! AAAA this is beautiful! I can feel how married they are!

Breakfast gets eaten and we talk of business now

As Watson said on his husband, politics:nil!

and sensational literature: he knows EVERYTHING of it!

And a VERY BIG SIGH, It seems a THANKLESS case

aww, they're so cute! Falling each in the other's habits! They've been married for 20 years. The way Jeremy acted this scene is GREAT! The letter anyway is from this gold king asking Holmes to clear Miss Dumbar, governess of the children, from the charge of having murdered GK's wife.

You introduce the client this way? I already want to chew on his femur

While Holmes explains the case and as usual uses his Watson like a rubber duck. While sitting on his lap, probably. This is great, to see Holmes' actual reasoning process! How he pauses, chews on his words, all of this!

Perfect! Guy's here! And we start bad already!

Mister Gold King, see the handsome doctor near Mr Holmes? He's the man who contributed to Holmes' fame as a household name! You're not tempting him at all, you're ANNOYING him (Oh i LOVE how Jeremy acted this scene!)

Ah, he just jumped and broke the ceiling at the name? the relationship is much deeper that it seems!

Started bad and going on WORSE! GK is stalling!

AND LYING! At least Holmes thinks so, he's pretty irked by it and dismissed that stuff!

Holmes is NOT going to take lies, he needs solid facts! Yes, you are lying and THIS is what makes Holmes dismiss YOU. (Brett's deliver of THIS)

Hey guy, calm down!

PROTECTIVE WATSON! See that guy, GK? Yes, him. He'll throw you out of the window. Without thinking to it a SINGLE bit. Meanwhile Holmes is languid and relaxed. He can't stand conflict after breakfast, just go the fuck out!

AAAAAH unsafe! Unsafe idea, to threaten Holmes. See those fists? They can make you swallow your teeth (i love to imagine a bit of steel in Holmes' voice now, even in his languid position!), if Watson hasn't thrown you out from the window!

Guy exits, Watson relaxes and asks Holmes what we all were thinking

Watson: How the hell did you know? Holmes: Didn't! I bluffed him, my dear! Watson: ... care to come at my club once in a while for a little poker? Holmes: *grins and leans on watson*

And now what?

AND HE ACTUALLY COME BACK! Not like in Granada! OOOOH love it! (feels a bit out of character of GK, toh, i'll be honest. I liked the Granada version better... also because it gave us a GREAT victorian husbands moment)

Ohia, stop sulking and JUST TELL THE THING. It's for HOLMES to decide what's relevant and what is not. So kindly shut up and TELL THE TRUTH!

In the next letter, ofc!

#letters from watson #sherlock holmes #dr john watson #victorian husbands #I had the episode playing in my head all the time lol #I'm imagining also an EXCELLENT buff chubby Watson #a man who can look harmless at a first glance #but will ABSOLUTELY fuck you up if you threaten his Holmes