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cathrrrine · 4 months

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just eat your food and say goodnight.

erik lehnsherr (magneto) x reader, platonic! peter maximoff (quicksilver) x reader • x-men (movies) • fluff, female reader

Summary: Peter Maximoff is a mischievous little shit. Y/N Lehnsherr and her husband Erik love him anyway. AO3

“Well, I’m calling it a night then.”

A content sigh escaped your lips as you stood up from your seat at the dining table and gingerly picked up your own dishes as well as the other empty ones left on the table. Those who noticed thanked you quickly before resuming their respective conversations — like Raven and Charles who were too busy bickering like children — while others made the effort to collect the ones on the other end of the table, namely Hank, Jean and Scott; the latter only doing so after being dragged by his girlfriend.

“Hey, you got an early class too, old man. Can’t risk waking up late with that back of yours.” You gestured to your husband, pointedly looking at him with a smirk on your face. He mirrored your expression, playfully cringing his nose to tease you but it only made you chuckle, a sound that was music to his ears.

“Good night then, everyone.” Erik stood up, following suit behind you, a melody of good night’s responding to him in different tones and variations of the phrase.

“The old man joke doesn’t age well with you, Y/N!”

Although muffled as he said it with a mouth full of food, it was clear enough for you to hear and snap your head towards him. Peter, the beloved speedster, snickered to himself at his own joke. He was too busy shoving chocolate pudding down his throat to notice that a couple of those around him had gone quiet, staring at him with disapproving eyes.

Raven reached over to flick the side of his head and Charles leaned back to give her the leeway, “Dumbass.”

“Ow!”

In your one thousand and thirty-five years of living, it was no surprise that all jokes about your age had grown stale. You hated them, having heard every single phrase on Earth…it was just plain boring to hear them make unoriginal jabs at your age at this point. If they got creative, you wouldn’t mind so much, but after hearing the same variations of the same jokes your whole life? Anyone would be understandably annoyed. Erik knew this, almost everyone at the table did as well. But, you figured it slipped Peter’s mind. It always did.

As he rubbed the side of his head, he stared angrily at the shapeshifter but was met by a pair of equally disappointed eyes that belonged to a certain Professor. A sheepish look fell on Peter’s face when he realised his mistake.

“You should know not to be too casual with your professors.” Charles raised an eyebrow.

Of course, you didn’t take it too seriously, he was a kid that meant no real harm so you didn’t really feel any real anger towards the young speedster, maybe even none at all. But he’s been bothering you too many times lately that it was starting to get on your nerves. So, you put on your Strict Professor Face and stared him down, determined to make him break a sweat at the very least. It probably wouldn’t put a cork in Peter’s attitude, but maybe you’d earn yourself a few weeks off from his incessant clowning.

Erik suppressed the grin that was starting to tug at his cheeks, he knew what you were doing, so he wordlessly took the stack of plates from your grip and continued your task for you. He caught Charles’ eye and they shared a knowing look for a brief moment.

Peter was in trroubleeeee.

“You do know how I feel about those jokes, Maximoff.”

“Funny, right?” He tried to play innocent, nervously smiling at you.

“I’ve told you so many times before that, no, I do not find them funny. We do not share the same sense of humour. Charles is right, you shouldn’t be so casual with me. We may be friends in your mind, but I’m still your professor, and I deserve at least a minimal amount of respect.”

Whew, that made even me sweat. Charles’ voice cackled in your mind.

Peter Maximoff was rarely left speechless, so it was an eighth wonder of the world to have him staring at you with his eyes widened and mouth shut. He gulped, shocked at being scolded by his favourite — although he’d never admit it to anyone — lecturer.

It hurt you too much to leave him that way, though. You were his favourite for a reason…that reason being how gracious you were to his faults that seemed to be never-ending. Relenting, you cracked a smile and used your powers to jolt him out of his daze and confusion. The sound of your chortling hit him with the reality behind the situation.

“Just messing with you, kid. I think you broke your own record for the longest time of being speechless.”

He rolled his eyes and groaned in effort to mask his relief, not wanting to admit she actually did get him back for once. “Unbelievable.”

“Serves you right for always making fun of me. I’m not kidding when I say it’s annoying!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever makes you feel better, grandma.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, “At least I’m not the one with greying hair.”

Peter frowned and opened his mouth, about to fire back a retort but you stopped him by laughing and ruffling his grey strands, “C’mon kid, just eat your food and say goodnight. Careful though, don’t choke.”

Your feet carried you over to your original destination, the intent of loading the dishwasher now appearing at the forefront of tour mind, but it was halted immediately.

As if someone had pushed him forward, Peter sped over to the sink area before you could even turn around, mumbling something about doing the dishes. You glanced curiously at the smiling telepath who simply gave you a shrug in return.

You bid your farewells to everyone again, Peter’s quip of ‘g’night’ not escaping you either when you went to pat him on the back affectionately.

A patiently waiting Erik tugged at your hand, clasping it in his own as he led you out of the kitchen and up the stairs, swinging your hands in tandem with his.

“You think he’s gonna be okay?” You worriedly asked aloud, suddenly very concerned that Peter wasn’t aware you had been joking. The role you played in his life was somewhat maternal, and you didn’t want him to think you were actually being curt with him.

“Who? Peter?” Erik gave you a sideways glance, “That boy’s smarter than he seems, he knows what you were doing. Don’t worry so much, darling. With how fast he moves, I’m sure his mind has moved on to other things by now.”

You hummed in reply, pleased with his answer. “Sometimes I think you might be the resident telepath with how good you are at reading my mind.”

“That’s just called being married to each other, my dear.”

———

“Y/N!” The sound of his sing-song voice was not what alerted you to Peter’s presence, nor was it the sound of his shoes squeaking before he rushed over with his powers, instead, it was the lack of formality. He never called you Professor or anything of the sort.

You never chided him for it, in fact, you’d be lying if you said you preferred the title as a prefix to your name. While many of your students were comfortable addressing you as such, anyone who felt more at ease with calling you by just your name was welcome to do so.

You had a first-year call you Mrs. Lehnsherr back then, when you and your husband were just newlyweds, but Erik was quick to remind them that if they wished to call you by your last name, it was to be Professor Lehnsherr instead, because, in his words, your accomplishments were not to be diminished and should be rightfully addressed.

It led to a whole debacle of mix-ups with two Prof. Lehnsherr’s roaming the hallways, which was a minor problem compared to the confusion of the paperwork.

The days of “Professor Lehnsherr?” “Yes?” “Sorry, not you Professor Lehnsherr, I meant you…Professor Lehnsherr,” had to come to an end, so you settled for whatever it is your students decided to call you…as long as it wasn’t demeaning.

However, no one called you Y/N, just Y/N, but the one and only Peter Maximoff himself.

The young man sped towards you, his hair swaying behind him from the strong gush of wind even as he came to a still in front of you.

“Pete!” You mocked the way he called you, using the same tone.

He gave you a playfully disgruntled look before quickly reaching into his backpack — which looked more like a knapsack, actually — to retrieve a cylindrical object and hand it to you nonchalantly. As soon you wrapped your fingers around it, he sped away again, a quick and impish ‘byeeee’ being the last thing within your earshot before the gush of wind took over your senses again.

It wasn’t until your day ended that you finally had the time to completely relax, stretching your legs and unbuckling your high-waisted, straight-legged pants. You wiggled your toes, sore from being in heels all day, as you relaxed into putty on yours and Erik’s shared bed.

Speaking of the devil — Erik came in not long after, tossing his shoes off and setting his things down on the bench next to your door before throwing himself on the bed next to you, also instantly letting himself relax.

He leaned closer to your side, laying his head on your chest and draping an arm over your stomach. Muscle memory kicked in as your fingers immediately found their way to run through his hair, a familiar habit between the two of you. He closed his eyes as the sweet, heavenly endorphins that came with the satisfaction of your touch washed over his body.

“How was your day?” He mumbled, too lazy to form his words properly.

“Pretty interesting. Finally convinced Logan to come to one of my classes next week. Students have been begging like crazy to meet him.” It was a history project, of which you and the Wolverine were both well-acquainted with, given your ages. “I’m getting the feeling that they think he’s a cooler teacher than I am.”

That made your husband laugh, the sound reverberating as you continued to cradle his head on your chest. “All of the students think Logan is cooler than any of us.”

“It’s not fair, isn’t it?”

“He’s like a mystery, that’s why. Never around long enough to be the one who yells at them for almost burning the school down.” He was talking, but his lips were barely moving and his eyelids were fluttering shut. You smiled softly, trying your best to keep your movements minimal as you continued your ritual to help him sleep.

“Like a cool uncle, then.”

“Yes.” A beat passed, then he spoke again when he remembered what he meant to tell you earlier. “Peter was in my class today.”

“Yeah?” You were slowly falling asleep as well, eyes half lidded and muscles starting to feel limp.

“He spent the whole of it with his head down, though.”

The very image of that made your eyes shoot open, all hints of sleep gone. “Why? What happened?”

It was unlike Peter to be uneventful — he was always doing something , be it throwing spitballs or participating in a one-sided blinking contest with whoever’s teaching in front.

“Nothing.” Erik mumbled groggily. “He was just…working on…something.”

Your skin itched and your eyebrows strained, discomfort firing up every synapse as you went through all the possible reasons. Then, your last interaction dawned on you.

“Honey, I know you’re almost asleep, so can you please hand me my bag on the bench?”

Without saying a word, he raised the arm resting on your body and used his powers to float it towards you, the metal handles clanking together when he dropped it carefully in your grip.

You didn’t have to move your sleeping husband to grab the cylinder you were thinking about, but you did almost startle him when his snores made you lose your grip on the bag.

He didn’t notice, too busy dozing off to even pay attention to what you were currently doing. You quietly unwrapped the roll of paper, barely caring about the sound of it crinkling — you knew your husband could sleep through anything when he was in your arms — since Erik’s snores were louder anyway.

The contents were confusing at first, you had to read it twice to understand that it was a voucher of some sort. With your arm still around Erik’s head, you used what restricted movement you had with your one free arm and just your hand to flip the paper over.

“What is this, Peter?” You mumbled to yourself, reaching for your glasses on the nightstand. Your vision weakened even in your abnormal age, and being far sighted was something you dealt with long before the triple digits hit you.

As if on cue, the answer to your rhetorical question was answered by the scrawling on the back which you recognised as Peter’s boyish handwriting.

‘Sorry for calling you old all the time. You know I’m just kidding. Thank you for always being so cool with me. Hope you like the vouchers for free ice cream. One’s for Erik too. - P.M’

Next to his initials was a doodle of a face with sunglasses on, a two-toothed grin to go with it. It was hard to wipe the pleasant smile off your face, so you kept it on, succumbing to the bubbly feeling. Peter was like a little brother that you couldn’t hate no matter how much you wanted to — you’d even go so far to say he was the son you never had.

You flipped it again, only noticing the name of the store being dairy goods related as you read through it for the third time. It still left you confused, since there was no sign of anything being free printed on it.

That’s when your eyes landed on the italicised font at the very bottom, bold red asterisks between the phrase.

* SENIOR CITIZENS GET 1 FREE CONE . *

Quickly, you turned it around to look at what you thought was an innocent letter written by one seemingly apologetic speedster. You didn’t miss the joke this time, written in very, very emboldened ink, so roughly scratched on the surface you wondered how you missed it in the first place. The smile you had on dimpled into a disbelieving simper.

P.S. HOPE YOU ARE WEARING YOUR GRANDMA GLASSES :D

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #evan peters #x-men quicksilver #erik lehnsherr #erik lehnsherr x reader #x-men imagines #michael fassbender #gotta love dadneto #husbandneto and his greying child #motherly!reader #mother son relationship #sisterly if you want #magneto x reader #magneto

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bettythemouse · 11 months

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Tommy Shelby Headcannon

A/N: Hi guys! This is my first writing post on my new account, any advice or criticism is greatly appreciated, please let me know what you think!

He sees you for the first time:

• Tommy seeing you for the first time would distract him greatly

• He’d be drinking at the Garrison, watching Arthur and John make drunken fools of themselves

• He’d go out for a smoke alone after a while, to catch his breath and concentrate on his thoughts

• And you?

• You’d be outside in the cold, smoking a cigarette of your own just a few meters away

• You wouldn’t dare go to the Garrison alone, despite how much you’d wanted a drink

• But Tommy would take the cig from his mouth, exhale, look around a bit

• and lay his eyes on you

• you

• Who were you?

• Suddenly all the plots and schemes and money stopped in his mind. He was distracted. Heavily distracted. Had he been talking with someone before seeing you, he would’ve shut up

• You didn’t see him yet. Even if you had, he stood without light in his face so you wouldn’t have recognised him or even realised who he was looking at

• But Tommy could see your face. He could see every detail, the mole on your cheek, the cupid shaped lip, the slight scowl on your face when ash blew onto your coat. And he was completely mesmerised

• You finished your cigarette, threw it to the ground and stamped on it. Cleared your throat and got ready to continue your walk-

• “Oh!”

• “My apologies.”

• “No, no, it was my fault, I couldn’t see where I was going.”

• You had unexpectedly bumped into someone. You couldn’t see them but you could tell they were male

• And polite

• You smiled at them, despite not fully being able to see their face and continued on your way, a little embarrassed

• And Tommy watched you. Watched you trail off into the night. And although he couldn’t see your face anymore, he was still mesmerised.

• And he knew

• Somehow

• That he’d see you again

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thosepeakyboysimagines · 2 years

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*not my gif*

The Sister

Pairing: Michael Grey x Y/N

Warning: very very much flirting, sassy reader,

Summary: It was your eldest sisters wedding day. As she married into the Shelby family despite that words that were spoken about the Shelby boy she was due to marry she didn't care. But for you, you never listened to your family and their arrogance. So any chance you had to piss them off, you did.

It was the day of your Eldest sister, Grace's, wedding day. Today was the day she married Thomas Shelby. As most people say, the most dangerous man in England.

Standing at the alter as Grace's maid of honor, in the beautiful church they were about to marry in. Looking over to your family seeing them look over at the Shelby side of the church in disgust. They were loud, laughing, just a mess a bit over there. Something you envied in a family sometimes. Very rarely did your family, laugh with each other. Scanning the other side, but instantly stopping at a younger man who sat beside Ada, the sister of Thomas Shelby. He played with a little boy dangling him over the railing as he laughed with Ada. He was, beautiful. You don't know what your family would do if another one of you were to have interactions with another boy from the Shelby's. But then again, you never really gave a shit what they thought. Between you and Grace, you've always been the "wild child" as your family explained. Grace normally always followed the wishes of you uncle who became a father figure to you and Grace after the death of your parents. But, that was okay. Need something a little spice in your life to keep it interesting since there wasn't much else for you to do.

You thought to yourself how crazy it was standing next to not one but two Shelby brothers so close and not really having any fear of them. If a normal person on the street as to get this close to them, they'd be shitting them selves. As music began to sound the doors opened in front of you. You stood tall and withe the bouquet in from to you and a smile on your face. As the doors opened and black priest walked through the door. You family was dumbfounded. Watching their faces as he walked down the aisle to the alter you couldn't help but laughed a little at their faces. Looking over at the Shelby side again, and instantly attaching your eyes to that man again. But, this time he wasn't distracted by the child that now sat on his lap. He was looking back at you. Full eye contact. He raised an eyebrow at you and you couldn't help but blush little and smile. As the brides song played you focused back at the door. You uncle walking with Graces hand settle on the back of his hand. She looked stunning, even though you couldn't see her face. You saw her all ready before the ceremony began. As she made her way down the aisle, could help but feel eyes on you still. Looking over just a little from the corner of your eye, he still had his eyes glued on you. As the ceremony went on, Grace, and Thomas said they words, then shortly after came their "I do's." Smiling at the smile that crossed you sisters face made you so happy. You interlocked arms with Arthur who stood as the best man to Thomas, and began to walk out of the church. Looking over at him one more time, he had different look in his eyes as he watched you walk away.

"Michael." You heard Arthur say breaking your deep thought of them man.

"What?" You asked almost at the doors of the church.

"Michael is his name love. Just to get you ahead of the game." He said once more.

"Welcome to the family love." Arthur said as you exited the building waiting for everyone else to come out. As they all came pouring out of the church you smiled as you saw Grace with the biggest smile on her face.

"Congratulations sister. So happy to see you so happy." You said pulling her into a hug.

"You have no clue how happy I am Y/N, and to have you by my side made it so much better." She said almost in tears. You smiled and engulfed her in a hug.

"Come on lets take this picture!" You heard Arthur yell, standing beside Grace on the stairs and moments after getting yourself set you felt a presence behind you.

"Okay if I stand here?" You heard a deep English accent ask. Turning to see the man you were eye fucking not even 20 minutes ago in a place of worship, with a cigarette hanging out of him mouth. You took the cigarette out of his mouth and took a drag, then putting it back in his mouth.

"Of course." You said with a smile as he slightly grinned back at you. You felt him get a little closer to you as people started piling in around you.

"Sorry Miss." He said as he was pretty much on top of you.

"Y/N." You said to him before turning your head back to where the camera sat ready for the picture. As the flash went off, after everyone dispurst from the steps. As Grace walked to the carriage with her new husband you tried to gather some warmth under your very thin shawl. Feeling a jacket lay over your shoulders confused as to what was going on saw it was Michael who noticed you were cold.

Wow, don't even know the guy. But, what a gentleman. Didn't expect that out of the Shelby family from all the words you have heard of them. You smiled and he walked passed you to link arms with an older women as you guys began to walk to the house for the reception.

"I'm Ada." You heard a women say walk up beside you.

"Hi Ada. I'm Y/n." You said with a smile and shaking her hand.

"I'm Thomas' sister, and your Grace's sister." She said to you.

"Looks like we are the sisters huh?" You said with a giggle.

"Looks like it." She also giggled back. As everyone one walked to the house together you had casual small talk with Ada and also met her son Carl. Which was the boy Michael had with him in the church. Finally getting into the house. This place was, massive. You've been to castles in your life. But this one was more of a home than somewhere where the military meets. Everyone going their separate ways and you kind of being left by yourself. Walking around the house seeing all the beautiful decorations, the beautiful paints. The one of Grace was absolutely stunning. Realizing you were still wearing Michaels jacket as his musk wafted off of it.

Should probably get this back to him.

You thought to yourself. Walking a bit more trying to see if you could find him. You saw him finally as he rounded the corner and down some stairs behind Arthur. Pushing through the crowd of people to get to where he was going before you lost site of him.

God damn this place is huge. He needs a map for this fucking place.

You thought to yourself getting to the stairs. Walking down them you heard Thomas yelling at everyone in the kitchen.

“No. Fucking. Fighting.” You saw him say in all the guys faces. As you rounded the corner everyone went silent. Thomas confused by it, before he turned around and a smile settling on your face.

“Y/N! Come on over.” Thomas said motioning you over to him.

“Everyone this is Y/N my new sister in law. Y/N everyone. Everyone Y/N.” you smiled and gave a nervous hand wave to everyone around the room.

“I was just coming down to give Michael his jacket back before it got lost.” You said speaking up breaking the silence. Looking at him as he leaned against the wall behind him with smoking pouring out of him mouth.

“Mikey boy!!!! Get it!!!!” You heard the little Shelby brother say. You laughed and walked up to Michael giving him his jacket.

“I’ll see you around.” You said with a winking and walking away.

As the night went on you made tons of new friends with the Shelby family, and the Lee family. They were all so different from what you knew on your life. They were funny, outgoing, crazy but in a kind of good way. As you danced your heart out on the dance floor with everyone a man came on over the microphone.

“If everyone can make way for the bride and groom first dance.” You smiled and stepped off to the side holding your shawl around you as you watched Grace in Thomas’ embrace. Smiled at how big he smiled. How happy he makes her. Feeling a figure step near you on your right side a little closer then the rest, your turned your head to look to see who it was. It was Michael.

“Well hello.” You said with a smirk and a giggle feeling the wine getting to your brain.

“Hello.” He said taking a drag off his cigarette as you did the same.

“You may all join.” You heard the man say after a few minutes of the Grace and Thomas dancing.

“Can I have this dance?” He asked stepping in front of you with his hand out.

“Of course Mr. Grey.” You said with a smile and laying your hand his his large soft hand. Stepping forward onto the dance floor and laying a hand on his shoulder has he softly set his other on the small of your back.

“So Mr.Grey tell me about yourself.” You said look up to him only inches from his face now.

“We’ll not much to me. I do finances for for the Shelby company. My mom is Polly, and I’m just Michael.” He said looking back down at you.

“I’ve heard other things you guys participate in. Why do you look so different from the rest? Very professional, not super rugged.” You asked motioning towards the room.

“Well love, that’s the point. I’m not supposed to look like the others. But, I got your attentions right? So I guess it’s good I look different.” She spoke softly to you. As you blushed and giggled you turned your head to look over at Grace & Thomas. Grace smiling at you mouthing “get it.” She said, know full well how much it would piss your uncle off. As you thought of that scanning the room to find him staring at you, and it wasn’t a good stare. Smiling you looked back up at Michael.

“So miss. Burgess, would you like to take this party somewhere a bit more quiet so I can get to know you.” He said staring down into your eyes.

“I would love to.” You said knowing full well your uncle was about to watch you walk away with one of the Peaky Boys. he took your hand in his and walked out of the loud room, down the hall, into a office that only had 2 dimly lit candles illuminating the room. Sitting on the big couch and tossing your purse to the side of you. Michael sitting in the chair on the other side of the table.

“So Miss. Burgess. Have you enjoyed your stay so far in England?” Michael asked lighting up a cigarette and handing it to you along side a glass of whiskey.

“I have. It’s a very beautiful place out here in the country. But also something that gets me about London. The tall buildings, the rush of working people on the street trying to get where they are going. I don’t have that where I live back in Ireland. Pretty small town. Everyone know everyone. But, also beautiful like it is here in the country. Beautiful green grass, very quiet.” You went on talking about your home town and how you grew up and just about your life to a stranger you met only hours ago.

“So Michael, I’ve been hearing about about cocaine floating around this party?” You asked after finishing one of your stories about you and your family. He raised an eye brow and sat up in his chair. Lift the front of his jacket open and pulling out a small vial that had white powder in it and setting it on the table.

“We call it snow.” He said look back at you. You got up off the couch and sat on the ground in front of it.

“Here I’ll show you.” He said leaning forward in his chair and taking the cork out of the vial.

“First you put a little down. Then you cut the snow.” He said taking out a razor blade from his jacket pocket and began to, well, cut the snow.

“Then you put it in a line.” He said as he scooted the white powder around to put it in a line.

“Then.” He said setting the tape down and pulling out a bill and rolling it up tight as if it were a straw. Handing it over to you, you took it in your hand.

“You won’t do any?” You asked.

“No I’m okay.” He said sitting back in his chair and cross his legs watching you very closely. You pushed the left side of your nose in, and put the bill up to your other nostril and inhaled the line. Giggling a bit after you did, and so did Michael. Wiping your nose and hold your hand out to give him his money back.

“Keep it.” He said taking a drag from his cigarette. You let out a breathy laugh and stood up.

“Mr. Grey. I don’t need your money, nor do I want it.” You said walking slowly around the table to where he sat. Stopping directly in front of him, stepping between his legs.

“I’m not a whore love.” You said bending over in front of him and putting the bill in his front pocket. Standing up straight, turning around and grabbing your purse off the couch.

"Thank you for the snow Mr. Grey." You said turning towards him as he now he stood up in front of his chair. In one swift move he had you pushed up against the door that you were about to leave out of.

"Miss. Burgess, the one thing I didn't tell you about me is I do not like being teased. I don't like having things I want dangled in front of me, and guess what?" He said grabbing your face in his hands.

"I want you." He whispered and smashed his lips into yours. Taking he's soft bottom lip between your teeth causing a low growl to come out of him. He lifted you off your feet and you wrapped your legs around him. As he carried you over to the couch and laying you down on it, now between your legs kissing up and down your neck. A few moments later you heard a knock at the door.

"FUCK OFF!" Michael yelled.

"Who the fuck are you telling to fuck off?" You heard as the door opened. Shooting up to look over the couch to see who it was. It was Arthur

"Oh shit." Arthur said threw laughing.

"What Arthur?" Michael asked standing up as he buttoned the top button of his shirt that at some point came undone.

"Dinner is ready and Grace is looking for her sister." He Sid still not able to contain his laughter.

"Thank you John." He said helping you up off the couch. Embarrassed as all you walked to the door and passed Arthur.

"Miss." He said bowing his head at you with laughter still under his breathe.

"Mikey boy!" You heard faintly behind you. Smiling to yourself as you walked down the hall. You saw a tall women, with short black hair, in a blue sparkly dress practically running passed you.

"FUCK PARISH BASTARD!" She screamed walking towards Arthur and Michael. It wasn't any of your business so you just kept walking. Rounding the corner to head to the dining room and sitting beside your uncle.

"Where were you?" He asked after a few moments of silence from your side of the table as Ada talked about politics to one of your family members across the table.

"I was looking around the house. It's quite a beautiful place." You spoke to him, but looked passed him as you saw Arthur, Michael, and the tall slender women walk into the room. Michael had a cigarette dangling between the lips you were moments ago were attached to. Giving you a wink as he sat across from you at the table.

"Don't worry love, we will be back home in due time." You uncle spoke.

It hitting you that you were going to be leaving this place in just a day. You didn't want to. Yes, you've only been here a few days, but you fell in love with England. It was beautiful. Then there was Michael. You didn't know if it would turn into more than a fuck, but you wanted to stay and find out.

"To the bride." Thomas said breaking you from your thoughts. You stood as everyone else did with a whiskey in your hand and holding it out towards Grace as she smiled at everyone around the room.

"The bride." Everyone spoke and took a sip of their drinks, and sitting back down.

"Now, according to traditions. My best man to say a few words." Thomas spoke with a bit of nervousness in his voice and sat back down.

"Go on! Here he goes! Go on, Arthur!" John yelled over to him and pulling your attention towards him and only a spot over Michael sat, who very intently looked at you. As if you were a project he couldn't seem to figure out.

"I'm not one for speeches." Arthur said standing.

"Sing then!" John yelled at causing you to giggle a bit.

"I will later John" He spoke to his brother.

"But I do have some words written down here." Stuttering over a few of his words. It as weird seeing a Shelby man so nervous.

"On this piece of paper." He said grabbing the paper out of his jacket pocket that laid on the back of the chair.

"This doesn't include everything that I want to say." He said look up from the paper around the room.

"But, first a few words from the heart." He said stuttering over a few of his word.

"The is man here, my brother Tommy. Helped me survive through some of the worst times." Arthur some with emotion. Thomas clearing his throat as it was a way of telling Arthur to shut up and just read what's on the paper.

"Its a wedding, Arthur, tell a joke." Michael spoke up looking over at him. Looking at Michael who had a look of nervousness on his face. You had no clue what the hell was going on. But they all acted very weird. Michael looking back over at you and giving you a soft smile. As Arthur went on with what he wanted to say anyways and Thomas stopping him before he could say anything else, other then what was written in that piece of paper he didn't read from.

"To peace, to love, to marriage." Thomas said standing up as everyone else did with their drinks in the air. Looking over at Michael who had a worry in his eye that was settling. He took a drag off of his cigarette. Watching his lips as he did so and trying not to think back at how soft they were on yours. You didn't want to leave. You wanted to see what this man had to offer, and you believed he wanted to show you too.

#Michael grey #finn cole #peaky blinders #imagine #imagines

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lagraciaestaenelahora · 2 years

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#pink #momo #men in grey #michael ende #imagine

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marypsue · 7 months

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In that vein (hah), I just have to take a moment to gush about the costuming in The Lost Boys because. Have you seen the costuming in The Lost Boys. Like each costume standing on its own without anyone in it still gives you a sense of a whole character, which is important because some of these characters don't get, uh, lines. We have to be able to distinguish them immediately by visuals, and the thing is, we can, because they're not just dressed to look attractive, they're dressed with the purpose of establishing character.

Like, consider Michael. They kept it very simple for him, on purpose, he's a regular everyman kind of guy thrown into a Situation. But also, he's trying too hard. The white t-shirt, jeans, and leather jacket call back to James Dean, Rebel Without A Cause, but the leather jacket's brand new without a scuff or a crack, not broken in, and it sits uncomfortably on his shoulders. The earring doesn't suit him - it belongs to somebody else, a funhouse mirror version of himself that he's tempted by, but also it literally belongs to somebody else. Who gave him that earring? Star's implied to have done the piercing, for him, which also tracks - the earring's a little piece of someone else, someone darker and wilder, that's been dug right down into his flesh by his association with Star. It's tasted his blood.

It's also a little piece of the boys' uniting aesthetic bleeding over onto him. There's a magpie sensibility to all of them, but then each of them are visually distinct as themselves within it.

Star's clothes have 80s cuts but form a 60s hippie silhouette, solidified in time. She's the most colourful of them all, her white tops signifying a flash of innocence, but at the same time as she climbs on David's bike, she pulls on a big black jacket that almost envelops her, a little piece of his shadow falling over her and devouring her light. Again, it doesn't quite fit her, like she's playing dressup as a darker, wilder self just like Michael is.

And speaking of David. That boy is chin to toe wrapped up in black. The coat references batwings, which is a great detail. And those gloves! He doesn't touch Star; he doesn't touch Michael; he doesn't touch the world, except through a layer of darkness. It's real Old West, white-hat-black-hat level symbolism. Except.

The real villain of the piece isn't the dangerous, sharp-edged boy in black - although of course you need to look out for him, they don't call him 'dangerous' for no reason. The real villain of the piece is the most perfectly conventional, middle-class, unassuming, don't-look-twice take-him-home-to-mother normal guy imaginable. Grey and beige. Business casual.

It's the perfect camouflage for a predator.

(And then also like. I can't wax as poetic about it right now because my brain cells are otherwise occupied. But please consider how much character is there in, like, the Frogs' army-surplus duds and Sam's terrible, incredible shirts.)

#the lost boys #costuming is characterisation. thank you for coming to my TED talk #is any of this coherent. have i just been swept away on this movie's tide of sensuality homoeroticism and oily sax man music #this is why in my 'michael turned sooner and everything went to shit' fic I have him collecting embellishments left right and centre #he's really truly fitting into the pack now. not just playing dressup #also something something borderline anachronistic details something something timelessness something

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galaxyspeaking · 9 months

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Your art is literally SO SO GOOD AOZJEORHWORHEIDGWODH

Do you have any good omens theories/meta you want to share?? I have so many feelings about S2 and I love love LOVE hearing ppl talk about things they like :DD and also i just absorb theories like photosynthesis

omg Hi!!! thank you SO much for liking my art!

And boy, do I ever. They're literally ALL I think about, all day long!!

I mean if we're talking about theories, one that I'm particularly fond of is that the infamous 'I forgive you' may have had something with Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship with transgression/temptation. Throughout the season, we see Crowley planting the seeds of doubt in Aziraphale via what he does best (questioning the establishment and general order of things), but we also see him introducing Aziraphale to his arguably biggest vice, food (I imagine an apple was too on the nose, lol). I find it interesting that once he gets that knowledge, Aziraphale seems to be unable to stop himself, and only craves more.

Then time and time again we see the same pattern repeating: Crowley introducing Aziraphale to some very human notions, Aziraphale rebuking them, then ultimately surrendering.

It's great. It absolves Aziraphale from examining his choices as such and instead allows him to indulge by doing interesting mental gymnastics: The Demon Tempted Me, I succumbed. I am weak at times, but not unforgivable. I am still Good.

So, about that kiss.

I'd like to imagine that this is the first time these two celestial beings have experienced this particular display of affection.

When I saw Aziraphale panic and "forgive" Crowley, I immediately thought of it as the angel framing Crowley's kiss within the boundaries of what he's familiar with: Crowley is a demon, he tempts (introduces something new to their dynamic). Aziraphale protests (we can't let Heaven how easily tempted we are) then eventually relents.

But if we look at Aziraphale's torn expression, the horror, the pain (Michael Sheen the actor you are) after Crowley kisses him, I'd say a part of him —the part he refuses to listen to, because that would mean acknowledging that he's less a force for Good and more treading in grey areas like Crowley— recognizes that this not a temptation.

This is what you're losing by making that decision, Crowley seems to say. This is what you're leaving behind.

But Aziraphale, unlike Crowley at that moment, is not ready to change, is unwilling to move on from their push and pull dynamic. He forgives him for the Temptation, because it's easier to frame it as such, and is left to deal with the aftermath of that choice.

Woof, this ran long. Unfortunately for all of us I have a lot more where that came from. I hope this made sense!

#galaxy answers #good omens 2 #good omens meta #aziracrow #ineffable husbands

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themultifandomgal · 7 months

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Finn Cole- Red Carpet Interview

Finn and I exist our car together ready for our season 5 premiere and interviews. I smooth out my dress before taking Finns arm and we make our way down the carpet taking photos and doing interview

"Hi, how are you both this evening?" One of our interviewers asks

"We're good thank you, excited for tonight" I smile replying

"Watching the show it's about the Shelby family, but I get the impression you guys are actually a family off screen. You both seem to be with Harry a lot when your not filming"

"Yeah we're definitely a family, and I think we're lucky that we can say that" Finn says with a hand now around my waist

"Harry and I are the closest in age he's only like a year older than me so we have really grown up together from season 1. I always say that Harry is my annoying twin, Cillian is the dad, Paul the cool uncle, Sophie is my big sister and Jos like a brother to me"

"A real family then. I guess that makes filming so fun and easy for you guys?"

"Definitely. I can't imagine working on a set we're you haven't got these friendships" Finn replies

"I have to say in the last season we saw YCN toughen up a bit, will that continue throughout the next season?"

"For sure. We are going to see a lot of different things that YCN will struggle with which makes her really angry I guess and at times she will loose her cool"

We're then moved on to our next interview

"Hi how are you doing?" we're asked again

"We're well thank you"

"It's so lovely to see everyone coming out and dressing up. I've seen some people in period clothing"

"Oh wow I love that"

"That's brilliant. That's what we've, we've created a show we're people can get involved and can dress up and can enjoy it for the same reasons we can enjoy it and it's a really special thing in tv..." I see Natasha walk over to us smiling

"Oh hello" I smile interrupting Finn

"Hello" she smiles back

"Sorry babe carry on, I get distracted so easily" I tell the interviewer who laughs

"We we're just saying how nice it is to see everyone dressed up"

"Oh I love it, and the vibe, I wash just told that this is where they would stand to sign up for the war. And since the show focuses so heavily on PTSD it's really quite emotional" Nat says

"As actors what is it about Stevens writing that jumps out of that script when you first see it"

"Oh I only read my parts" I joke but don't last long because I start laughing "No I'm kidding. Erm for me it's how I'm kept at the edge of my seat. Like I can't ever predict what's going to happen"

"You can hear the music coming of the pages"

"It's one of those experiences reading something where it's so visual but every sentence is so exciting" I nods agreeing with Finn

"YN in season 4 we finally got to see YCN fall in love. Will that transpire into this season?"

"Yes. Unfortunately Jordan had brier engagements so wasn't able to film with us anymore so Daryl was casted and he's just slotted right in with all of us"

"What about Micheal. Will we get to see him fall in love this season?"

"Ah that you'll have to wait and see" Finn says making me chuckle because his answer basically was yes.

Move move on to another interview this time just Finn and I. This time it's an interviewer who has interviewed me since season 1

"It's good to see you both again"

"It's good to see you as well. How have you been?" I ask

"I really good thank you. You know I look back at my old interviews with you all and everyone looks practically the same, but then there's you and Harry who now look like actually adults" I laugh at her making the comment

"I know it's crazy. We filmed the pilot when I was 12 and now I'm 20 so it's crazy that nearly 10 years I've been with these guys"

"Well what is the dynamic like on set of a program of a drama like peaky blinders because it's very intense"

"Oh it's horrible" Finn jokes earning a nudge off me

"You know what's weird we would be doing a really intense scene but the moment we hear cut, we all burst out laughing" I say smiling "in season 4 I had to throw a drink at Lizzie but I only really had one chance so we did it over and over again with an empty cup. Then when we were ready we did it for real and I felt to bad. So as soon as we stopped filming I hugged her and kept apologising while Nat was just laughing the whole time"

Finn and I finish up with more interviews and some photos, watching the first episode of season 5 and then finally going to a little after party with all of the cast.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders reader #tommy shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #finn cole #finn cole x reader #michael grey imagines #michael gray

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skullsuited · 8 months

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hawaiian party.

inspired by this song.

gif credit.

an fbh!era/college!au imagine full of angst, humor, smoking weed, hiding in a bathroom at a party & grief.

content warning: marijuana usage, mentions of disordered eating, feelings of loneliness & dealing with a parent’s death.

This was the first time you'd been out since your mother's death. Unwillingly so, and yet, here you were, hiding in your best friend's bathroom at a college party. How depressing of you.

Nadia, your best friend and Alpha Theta's starry-eyed sorority member, had practically pleaded on the phone with you to come out and 'let loose', because 'your mom wouldn't want you to rot in your dorm room, eating M&M's and watching reruns of Grey's Anatomy'.

You hated that she had a point. You hated that this was what your life had come to.

Nadia had also mentioned that a few of your other friends would be attending the party and they had, apparently, mentioned how much they 'missed you' and 'wanted to see you'.

How could you say no to them? If you turned them down, you would be stuck in the same bottomless pit of loneliness, grief and M&M's.

For Nadia, for your friends and for your mother's memory, you had decided to attend the party at her sorority. Many of the people there, you didn't know or really bothered to speak to. As you arrived, you noticed a few of your friends lingering around. Niall was talking to Michael and Luke, Liam and Calum were playing spin the bottle with a few strangers, Nadia was nowhere to be seen and Harry was up against a wall, a joint in between his fingers.

He had been the first one to make eye contact with you, to notice your presence. A smile pulled at his lips and before you knew it, he was chasing you upstairs to the bathroom, racing after you as you tried to ditch the scene.

Which is where you are now: in the bathroom, sitting against the tub with Harry sat next to you.

"You've been away." He breaks through the silence between you, taking a drag from the joint he'd been puffing at.

"Yeah." You reply quietly, eyes cast downward, tracing over the tile.

"How, um... how have you been..." He trails off, trying to find the right words.

"Coping?"

Harry looks at you now, emerald eyes overcome with worry and concern for your wellbeing.

"Not very well. I haven't really... haven't really eaten properly. I mean, you know my relationship with food is..."

"A rollercoaster. Been that way for a very long time. I know."

You sigh, unsure of what to say. Of course, Harry knew. Other than Nadia, he was your closest friend. You'd met in high school and were inseparable ever since. Your fingers twitch towards the joint he's holding, and he hands it to you, watching you take a drag from it.

"Your mum was a good person, Y/N. I know she fucked up a lot of things, but one thing she was truthful about was how much she loved you."

"Y'know, what the really fucked up part of that is?"

"What?"

"I don't believe she truly loved me. I mean, after everything she put me through, how can you call that love?"

"Everyone has their own version of love, Y/N. Whether we understand it or not, is completely up to us."

A half-hearted smile tugs at the right corner of your lips. Harry's very emotionally intelligent and opening up to him, even if it's surface level, is helpful.

As you hand him the joint, a question brews in your mind, "What do you think? About love, I mean."

Harry chuckles, taking the joint from you. "I'd like to think that love is a word for a feeling no one can truly describe. I don't believe it's conditional or should be tied down to a person, place or thing. Love, like any other feeling, should be felt freely. Love is part of the human experience."

"Okay, Professor." You grin, "Maybe you should be studying psychology, become a therapist."

"Mm," He hums, "What have you been up to? Besides hibernating."

"I'm watching Grey's Anatomy again."

"Again? Christ, this is the third time!"

"I'm almost done with Season 11, believe it or not."

"Jesus. Do you not get bored of looking at Jesse Williams?"

"Never."

"Is that all you've been doing?"

"What, is wasting away in my bed, anticipating the next time Dr. Jackson Avery is on my screen, not a healthy way to cope with the fact that my mother's dead?"

"You're passively grieving, Y/N. Hell, I don't even think you've allowed yourself to fully process."

"These things take time, H. I can't just piece myself back together."

"S' not what I'm getting at, love. I think you're pushing your grief to the side."

"Harry..."

"If you need a reminder that you can come to someone, that you're allowed to shoulder the burden with someone else, I'm happy to give you one. You can't go through this alone, no matter how hard you try."

"You know just what to say, don't you?"

"Maybe I should become a therapist. M' quite good at it."

"Well, in that case, should I open up now or let you get your PhD first?"

"Don't bother. Dr. Styles is in."

"In all seriousness? Thank you, H... for letting me just... be."

"Don't have to thank me, love. M' always here. Now, why don't we get out of here, smoke a bowl in my car and get you a cheeseburger?"

"Sounds good to me, Styles."

Harry stands, the joint he'd been holding in between his fingers had burnt out. He tosses it in the trash bin near the toilet, before holding his hand out for you to take. You smile up at him, taking ahold of it.

Exiting the bathroom, you both weave through the party and head out into the night.

If there's anything your mom would have wanted for you, it was to have someone like Harry. Harry was supportive, thoughtful. He knew you better than you knew yourself and, at times, you were grateful for that.

With death, comes life. With life, comes love.

Perhaps, Harry would open your eyes to that.

You had hope that he would. That he will.

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msmoony7 · 4 months

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hey!! can you please do a fic with calum hood, maybe enemies to lovers and reader is the bands photographer or something like that (it’s okay if you don’t want to🫶🏼🫶🏼)

Love your work!!

note: hope u like it! I haven't written for 5sos yet AND i’ve never written enemies to lovers so i hope it’s good and enemy-y angsty enough. also pretend the first stop was LA and that the tour was six weeks idk how long it actually was this is just what i imagined for my little fanon fic LMAO. I kinda left this on a cliffhanger. Maybe part 2 soon??

calum hood x reader

word count: 1.84k

You wake up to the sun peeking through the cracks in your bedroom curtains. Although the weather on this day is perfect, your mood was anything but, and you wake up feeling sour. Today, you are presented with the difficult task of joining the band 5 Seconds of Summer as their tour photographer. You’ve been photographing artists for years now and it has truly become your passion. Whether it’s following an artist on your, or taking album art, you are living your dream with every picture you take.

That’s not where the difficulty lies. You know that you’re capable of doing your job and doing it well. The difficulty lies within the band. The name of that difficulty being the band’s bassist, Calum Hood. By now, you have a long history with the band. They first invited you to join them on the Take My Hand tour last year. You quickly became good friends with Luke, Ashton, and Michael. But for some reason, Calum just could not stand to be near you. Many days and nights were spent bickering between the two of you. Arguments would come up, about your creative direction and other bullshit he brought up, leaving you no choice to fight back, creating a lasting vendetta between the pair of you.

Of course, he made your job difficult as well. When photographing him onstage, he would mess with you and your work. Sometimes getting up in front of the camera and in your face, sometimes not letting you take any photos of him at all. And once offstage, he wouldn’t even look in your direction. Wouldn’t even address you. Despite this, your work speaks for itself and you received a message from Luke inviting you to join them again on this year's tour, The 5sos Show.

It’s been weeks since you got the tour invitation, and months since you’ve last seen the band. All the time in the world couldn’t prepare you for six weeks on the road with Calum Hood. What he had against you, you may never know. What you do know is that as long as he presents this dislike towards you, you will be doing the same right back at him.

Was putting yourself through all this stress worth it? You ponder for a moment when you wake up, but ultimately decide you made the right choice. You are set to meet up with the band and crew this evening before you set out on the road together, marking the start of the long six weeks ahead. You put on some music and start packing your suitcase.

After a while, you’re happy with everything in your suitcase and zip it up. Living out of a suitcase was difficult, but you’ve had prior experience so you know the do’s and don'ts of packing. You pack your backpack, carry on, and your camera supplies and before you know it, the day is behind you and it’s time to converge with the band. You call an uber to take you to the address Luke gave you and you’re on your way.

Traffic isn’t too bad, so you make it to the address quicker than you would have liked. The crew is already there, but the band is nowhere to be seen. You help yourself onto the bus and begin putting your things in your designated area. You feel the bus shift as someone steps on. Before you can turn around, you can already tell who is walking up behind you.

“Well, what do we have here?” you hear a sarcastic voice say behind you. You turn around and lock eyes with the bassist. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a green 5sos sweatshirt. He looks adorable and cozy, and you hate him for being so gorgeous and so annoying all at the same time.

“Not even the first day of the tour and we’re already fighting, are we?” you spit back at him.

“Seems that way,” he replies before scurrying off to whatever hole he’s gonna bury himself in until he needs to be found again.

The rest of the boys slowly scatter onto the bus, and your meetings with them go better than yours with Calum. Everyone picks out their bunks and once everyone is settled onto the bus, the driver begins driving to the first stop on the road and you allow yourself to fall asleep for the night.

You wake up to the sound of fighting. It takes you a few seconds to shake off your grogginess before you hear two voices shouting back and forth at each other from the other end of the bus.

“You can’t keep acting like this!” you can hear Luke yell.

“Sure I can! I can't stand her being here and I’m not going to pretend I do.”

“Whatever, man. Do what you want, I give up. Just don’t come complaining when it comes to bite you in the ass.”

You can hear them shuffling around the bus as you stay hidden behind your curtain. Although your hatred for Calum was mutual, you couldn’t help but let a tear fall down your cheek as you lay in your bunk, thinking about everything you’ve had to endure from him in the past and will have to in the future on this tour. You are tired of feeling like this. Feeling beat down by him and his words, his actions. Now, you’re determined to get to the bottom of his hatred for you. You wipe away your tears, jump out of bed, and get ready for the day.

Tonight is the first night of the tour at The Kia Forum in Los Angeles. You’re excited. After all, you do love your job. You decide that the best way to get through the tour is to ignore Calum and his antics.

The day goes by quickly. The opening band is onstage and you’ve successfully avoided Calum the entire day. You grab all your camera equipment so you have it ready to go when the boys go onstage.

Calum sneaks up behind you, bass in hand. “Where’ve you been, y/n? Haven’t seen you all day, it’s almost like you’re ignoring me. You wouldn’t do that though, would you?”

“For the love of god, fuck off. Get away from me.” You huff at him while grabbing your camera and walking towards the side stage. The lights go off and he shoots you a wink before walking onstage. You push all this out of your head and get in front of the stage and start taking photos of the boys.

The night goes as well as you could have expected given your circumstances. You get some good photos of the boys. Calum was his usual self. This time around, he decided that whenever you got too close to him, he would turn around, making sure that you don’t get photos of his face or his instrument. Despite this, you do get some good photos of him. In all honesty, you think this is some of your best work. Calum looks really good. Even if you can’t see his face.

The boys all run offstage after the encore, high off of the energy from the gig. You shoot them a congratulations and you can see Calum heading in the opposite direction of you. Typical, you think.

The next stop of the tour wasn’t for another two days, so the boys are having a party to celebrate the tour kicking off. You follow Luke, Ashton, and Michael and see that the party is already in motion. Calum’s already at the bar grabbing a drink and your body moves before you can think and all of the sudden, you’re sitting next to him.

“What do you want,” he mutters sharply, not even looking up from his drink.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Vodka cran,” he says to the bartender and nods at you. “I swear, whenever you get within ten feet of me I can feel my blood pressure rising,” he says in defeat as he gets up from his seat.

“Where’re you going? I thought we were finally getting along.”

“Back to the bus before I say something I’ll regret.”

And with that, he disappears out the door, leaving you confused as the bartender hands you your drink.

“I don’t know what his issue is,” you confess to Luke once you find him later that night. An hour or two has passed since you last saw Calum and you’re feeling tipsy from the alcohol.

“I wish I could tell you, y/n. I really wish I could. But we have no idea why he’s like this. We all love you and we love your work, I don’t know why he has it out for you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. If I’m honest, I’m getting to my breaking point. I don’t think I can handle it anymore.”

“Want us to talk to him?” Luke says with concern written on his face. You can tell him and the other boys genuinely do care about you. It makes you feel good knowing that you have people to fall back on in this drama.

“Thanks, but I think I’m actually gonna go speak to him now. I’m just tired of it and I need answers now.”

“Well, good luck. Let us know how it goes.”

You say bye to everyone at the party and you leave to find Calum and get some long awaited answers for yourself. The walk to the bus is not far and as you’re approaching, you see Calum sitting on a bench outside, smoking a cigarette and looking up at the sky. He hears your footsteps on the ground and groans when he realizes it’s you.

“Following me now, are you?”

“Oh shut up, will you?” you say as you steal the cigarette from his hand, taking a drag before handing it back to him. “You’re an ass, you do know that, right?”

“What do you think, y/n.”

“I wanna know why.”

“Why what?”

“What do you think, Calum? You’ve never liked me. I’ve done nothing wrong. I literally can’t do this anymore, I don’t know what to do!”

He sits and thinks for a minute, leaving the two of you in silence. You stare at him as he stares at the ground ahead of him, waiting for a response. A minute goes by, then two. No response.

“Are you gonna answer me?” you yell. Still, no response. “Whatever, I’m done. Bye.” You say as you get up. You start walking in the direction of the tour bus when you feel him grab your arm and turn you around. Before you realize what’s going on, his lips crash into yours. At first, you don’t know what to do and you stand there frozen. He pulls away and just stares at you, and you stare right back.

“That an answer enough for you?” he says to you.

“Oh will you just shut up?” you say as you cusp his cheeks, pulling him towards you once more.

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fellthemarvelous · 4 months

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Let's talk about forgiveness

I posted this on Twitter yesterday and now I'm sharing with Tumblr.

Enjoy.

I am so so so so so so so tired of the double standards thrown in Aziraphale's direction.

It's annoying watching Crowley held up on this pedestal of perfection while Aziraphale is villainized for every single thing he says or does on this show, and it's ridiculous.

I came into this season a Crowley gal through and through because I feel the same way about Heaven and Hell that Crowley does, but the amount of vitriol aimed at Aziraphale (and Michael Sheen) is appalling. I never imagined that I would be sitting here defending him so staunchly, but here we are.

All I see when people hate on Aziraphale is the question of why he doesn't consider Crowley's feelings for this moment or that moment.

Aziraphale is treated the same way people treat female love interests and include this notion that all of his decisions should revolve around Crowley's existence. Who cares about what's going on in Aziraphale's head, right? Who cares about his millennia of anxiety and trauma? He didn't fall so clearly he has it made in the shade. 🙃

I grew up in the Catholic church and I remember having to go to confession and the priest telling me to say the rosary this many times and 10 Hail Marys and 10 Our Fathers if I wanted to earn God's forgiveness, which is fucking bullshit because everything we do in life is considered a fucking sin anyway.

The church made sure to tell us that groveling and reciting holy chants to God is the only way we will have those sins wiped off our conscience.

But god forbid all the Aziraphale haters take five seconds to consider a perspective they are unfamiliar with just because Aziraphale is complex and not as open as Crowley. Maybe consider that Aziraphale really didn't see a way out in the Final Fifteen and tried to express it to Crowley.

But oh no, Crowley is having this love confession and that's way more important than the fact that Aziraphale is standing in front of Crowley, clearly distressed, and being told he is an idiot. Suddenly shades of grey no longer matter and both sides of the story here are not equally relevant.

#good omens #aziraphale defense squad #aziraphale #i'm going full bitch right now and i don't care #religious trauma #if you know you know #crowley #aziraphale is more than just crowley's emotional support angel

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percheduphere · 5 months

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How do you think Mobius will live his life in the timeline? Many theorize that something happens to Don and Mobius takes his identity so his sons live with a father. I prefer that Mobius reflects on his old life, realizes he can’t live it, and creates his own life.

Oh, boy, Anon. I have a lot of fanfic ideas for this, but let's get into the meta-analysis side of this before we get into the rabbit hole that is my washer-dryer machine of an imagination.

Mobius is not doing well. He is going through the stages of grief. I've written an extensive meta here regarding the darker aspects of his character and how he's at risk by the end of the series. I also wrote a brief meta here regarding how his grief might manifest.

With this in mind, I actively HATE the idea of Mobius spiraling to the point he becomes "corrupted". I don't what Michael Waldron did to Wanda. I guess you could make the argument that it would be interesting to see a man emotionally unravel in such a way, but I hold Mobius's unshakable kindness dear in my heart. I don't ever want him to lose it because it is essentially his superpower.

[Sidebar: comics canon House of M notwithstanding; Marvel and DC comics canon are consistently horrible in their characterization of exceptionally powerful women: Wanda Maximoff Jean Grey/Phoenix; Carol Danvers/then Ms. Marvel; Rogue; on and on; I'll throw Sylvie in here, too, because why not, it's true.]

I see Mobius mourning Loki for two years. Two years because, statistically, that is how long it takes for most people who've lost an intimate loved one to get out of clinical depression. During this period, I see him losing weight, wandering aimlessly between timelines, trying and failing to copy Don's life by taking a job that involves jet skis or aquatics more generally. B-15 would make a point to check-in on him and know he's not doing well, but Mobius, because he does not want anyone to worry about him, because he is used to being the person who keeps people together, insists he's fine.

MY FANFIC IDEA

I see Mobius eventually recognizing he needs a therapist, which he will find ironic and deeply troubling, but he's not about to give up on trying to live for Loki's sake.

And in his conversations with his therapist and B-15, Mobius will come to realize that he can still use his key strengths outside of the TVA: analyzing people, deconstructing what makes them tick, using that knowledge to help the other person, similar to a therapist but more active in support. Mobius is very well-suited to become a social worker of troubled and at-risk youth. I think he should pursue this and ...

Mobius will choose a branched timeline in the late 90s/early 2000s. There, he will meet a war-orphaned, thirteen year-old Wanda Maximoff, who is friendless and struggling to understand the nature of her powers (magic). Mobius is drawn to her right away. It takes time, but he eventually gains Wanda's trust.

Red. Red is Wanda's color. It's in her hair, her cheeks, her magic. Now that red reaches Wanda's eyes, filled with tears her anger stoppers. "You saw what I can do. What I did. The other kids call me a 'witch' 'cause that's what I am. A witch. A monster."

Mobius sits next to the young girl on the stoop. The sun winks at them through the green tree boughs, and he wonders, for a moment, what Loki might think of him now, finding solace in a child who needs solace.

"That's not true. You're not a monster, but I tell you what: witches are pretty cool." Mobius grins, knocking his knee against hers. The fabric of his slacks shakes, still too loose. "Y'know, my best friend has magic just like yours, except it's green instead of red."

Wanda peers at him, hopeful and dubious. "Really?"

"Yup. He had a tough time, too, being different." He leans closer to her, sharing a secret. "But things got better. You should've seen him. He was--is-- magnificent. You're magnificent."

Her lips purse into an embarrassed smile. She drops her head, thoughtful, and tucks her hands beneath the fold of her knees. "Where is he now? Do you still see him?"

The question is innocent, as all things are with a soul of thirteen. She doesn't mean to hurt him. Mobius knows this. So he takes the thorn of her words and presses it against his ribcage. His throat works. The ache comes and goes but never fully abates.

"Well," Mobius sighs. "He had to move on. Life is like that sometimes. People come and go. Things happen and ... there's not much you can do except hope they're okay. That they're happy and safe."

He can't look up. Not at the tree or the sun. He worries if he does, he'll start to cry, and that won't do when this girl who reminds him so much of his wily god has finally cracked a smile.

"C'mon," he says, rising to his feet. "Let's get you something to eat."

"McDonald's?" Wanda brightens.

Another thorn. He takes that one too and thinks of pretty roses.

"Whatever you want, kiddo."

#anon asks #asks #loki #mobius #lokius #loki series #loki season 2 #loki headcanons #my headcanons #my fanfic ideas #loki meta #my meta #lokius fanfic #wanda maximoff #scarlett witch #my writing

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jayaury · 1 year

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Autumn’s Harvest

Another short story from my Patreon archive. I hope you enjoy it!

---

Michael Colter walked by the pumpkin patch every year, and every year he wondered how Old Man Wittig managed to make those pumpkins grow so big.

There were those that said Wittig sold his soul to a spirit of the Wire Woods. And true, there was always some poor sod that seemed to vanish along that road as the years grew long. But Michael put little stock in such tales. There’d not been a witch in the region for eighty years, and the cursed lands had been pushed back far beyond the borders of their village. The wards on the distant posts that separated the fields from the forest glowed hot with power, strung along the distance like a ribbon of stars, and not a devil, sprite, or any other fey thing could cross that boundary.

But when he walked by the patch and saw those orange gourds growing ripe and heavy, and when the wind whistled through trees growing thin of leaves and a sky overcast with a steely grey, he recalled the rumors of the missing, and shivered in the cold.

He was on his way back to his family’s farm that late night, later than he should have been. He’d spent overlong in the town’s library and hadn’t realized the time until the librarian had told him they were closing. The air was growing dark, the moon yet to rise, and even as he walked the night closed in more and more. A time the old folks knew as the Whispering Hours. Back when the forest grew closer, it was said the spirits of the Wire Woods would tempt men and girls of marriageable age to cross beyond the borders of the wards, and find their destiny in the arms of giggly sprites and hungry alraunes.

Michael shrugged off such talk. Superstitions were not for him. He was a man of education. His family did well enough. His brother would inherit the farm. His sisters went off to marry some of the tradesmen in town, and he was to go to the Academy in Morrinton come spring’s breaking. He had the mind of a scholar and no small skill in magic, and life on the farm had given him the build of a workhorse, which stretched his coat comfortably over his chest. He was meant for greater things than to be a farmer. Greater things indeed.

Come to me.

Michael stopped dead and looked out over Wittig’s fields. He noted with some interest that the pumpkins hadn’t been coming in as well as other years. The rinds were still pale and nestled in their vines like eggs waiting for a broody hen. Michael rubbed his chin, wondering, then shrugged and started off again.

Here.

He turned to the patch again, his eyes roaming across the field. He hadn’t imagined that one. He was sure of it. A plaintive whisper hanging in the wind. A woman’s voice that tickled his ear and made pins and needles dance up and down his arms.

“Hello?” he called.

No answer came but the soft sigh of the wind and the rustle of leaves blown across the acres. But as he stood there, he saw something glowing through the gloom. A flicker of a lamp swaying out among the fields. Michael leaned over the fence, trying to see who carried it, but the green flame merely hung in the air, swaying softly.

A new sensation came over Michael as he watched that distant glow. He felt again that tingle in his arms. A strange sense of vertigo gripped him, making him lean against the fence. He shook his head, banishing the momentary befuddlement, and tried to spot who it was that carried the lamp, but the gloom had only grown deeper, and the lamp seemed to recede further.

Michael drummed his fingers on the fence, then climbed over and began to make his way across the patch.

He was careful not to tread on the vines or pumpkins. He knew the labours involved in growing such crop, and it would shame him greatly to damage anything of another man’s harvest. “Hello?” he called again. “Who’s there?”

The flame retreated as he approached. Or perhaps it was further away than he expected. In no time, he found himself moving beyond the pumpkin patches, and towards one of the small shelters of willows that grew in tangles on every farm. The glow of the lamp danced between the trunks, flickering as if through the bars of the cage. As he approached, he spied a trail that wound into the trees.

Come here.

He paused then, uncertain. Uneasiness rose in him. Something was wrong here. Though he was still some distance from the ward posts, something made him wary of what lay before him.

Help me.

The words held such a pleading tone that it made Michael nervous. There were many rumors about Wittig. A man secretive, churlish. Quick to anger and jealous of his lands. Could he have harmed a woman who’d been walking by? Dumped her body among the trees thinking she were dead? Or had she escaped here, and was waiting for a rescuer?

His stomach clenching, but his mind made up, Michael moved down the narrow path through the trees.

Now, at last, the light of the lantern grew closer. The glow grew brighter. Brighter. Its flames fluttered, and Michael swore he could make out a figure among its embers. A feminine form that swayed and danced and spun in dizzying patterns of ragged green. A heat that burned bright and hands that swung and beckoned and-

Michael’s foot hit something, sending him crashing to the ground. He hit it hard, bruising his palms and knees, his brain seeming to rattle in his skull. The shock cleared his head and he shook it, looking back to see what it was he’d tripped on.

His mouth dropped open as he saw the prone figure laying on the ground. Though wearing a heavy brown coat with a high collar, it was near three sizes too big for the body it garbed. Wrists thin as twigs and twisted fingers clawed for the heavens. A face as wizened and wrinkled as the bark of an oak tree stared up, mouth and eye sockets gaping at the world with the dumb idiocy of death. But Michael could still make out, just barely, the familiar features of Old Man Wittig.

It was only then that Michael realized he could see easily despite the dark. He turned back towards the source of the light, and his shock was only compounded by what he saw.

Before him, nestled in the middle of the willows and atop a vast, sprawling tangle of green vines, sat the biggest pumpkin Michael had ever seen. It swelled in a huge orange orb, and several vines grew high around it, their tips curving outward like birdcages, and within them danced the fluttering green light of witchfire.

A creaking groan came from the pumpkin, and from its top leaves rustled and stretched apart. Michael stared, stunned as a figure rose out of the pumpkin. Skin a pale orange. Hair a bright green. A face radiantly beautiful, and breasts as large as the pumpkins in the field yet so much softer. Her hips plugged the pumpkin’s top as she stretched from the peak, her eyes opening, glowing the poisonous green of the witchfire as she looked down on him with a smile.

“Hello,” she crooned.

Michael slammed his jaw shut and scrambled to his feet. An alraune. A dryad! A creature of the forest. Winsome and cunning, he had heard countless tales of the fates that awaited those they tempted into their groves. He reeled back from the figure, only to trip again on the corpse of Old Man Wittig, this time finding himself on his rump.

“Oh dear!” the pumpkin alraune giggled. “You are a clumsy one. Here, let me help.”

“I ah!” Michael gasped as vines pushed against his back, twisting under his arms and hoisting him to his feet.

“There we are. Much better,” she said, then put a coquettish finger to her lip. “Hmm, although we aren’t quite on the same level, are we? Why, you’re just tall enough to talk to my big melons, aren’t you?”

Michael stared as she hefted her impressive bust, giving those plush, orange orbs a bounce in her hands, the shadows of the lanterns fluttering across them in a way that made his head spin. He shook it off, trying to take a step back. “I… who… you can’t be here,” he said.

“Can’t I?” the pumpkin woman said. “But I’ve been here for such a very long time. I am Cucuria. A pleasure to meet you.”

“But… the barrier…”

She giggled again. “Ohhh, I’ve been in place much longer than your silly barrier. But I’m a… seasonal spirit. I only get big… and strong… and jiggly now,” she cooed, giving her breasts another teasing wobble.

Michael swallowed, trying not to look at those impressive tits. “I uh… I don’t…”

“Ohhhh, but let’s not talk about me,” Cucuria said sweetly. “Let’s talk about you. And what we can do together.”

“S-sorry?”

“Oh,” she said, cocking her head. “Didn’t you come here for me?”

“N-no! I thought I heard a woman in… in distress.”

“How fortunate!” Cucuria giggled, sending her melons bouncing with mirth and the lanterns bobbing around her. “Why, that’s exactly what I am. A pretty damsel in distress.”

“You… are?” Michael said dubiously.

“But of course, silly! I’m in ever so much need of a handsome, strong young man. One who loves big… soft… breasts…”

She gave her bust another jiggle, but Michael managed to avoid staring at them this time, focusing instead on her face. Lit by the green lamps, there was something menacing in the light of her eyes and turn of her lip. Something that made his stomach flip and his pants feel tight.

“You…” He cleared his throat. “You needed help?”

“Oh yes! It’s been such a terrible season this year. I fear poor Walter simply didn’t have it in him to help me.”

“Walter? You mean…” Michael looked back at the shriveled corpse and felt another shudder.

“Poor soul,” Cucuria sighed. “He tried to give me his all, truly, but I’m afraid he was just too old now.”

“Y-you mean, you…”

“It was a mutual arrangement,” Cucuria said, touching her impressive chest. “I give him the biggest pumpkins around, and he gives me just a little taste of his lifeforce. Just a quick nibble. And I make the meal… mmm… so very good…”

So that was the secret. Michael knew that alraunes could feed on the essence of their prey, though some preferred to keep their thralls in a permanent state of love-drunk, perfumed submission. But he had never heard of one like Cucuria.

“You killed him,” Michael breathed.

“Oh dear, but I didn’t. He killed himself. Poor thing,” Cucuria sighed, once more fondling the plump orbs of her breasts. “He was just obsessed with pumping into me. Just pumping and pumping his needy cock into my flower. All so he could make these girls even… mmm… bigger.”

“B-bigger?” Michael said, again caught by the bobbing of her breasts.

“Oh yes,” Cucuria murmured. “So much bigger. Do you really think this is as big as I can make them? My breasts can grow so much… mmm… bigger. So heavy. So soft. So big you could bury your head between them and just… mmm… rest…”

Michael blinked. The lanterns were swaying around her again, their glow framing her, illuminating her as her hips began to slowly sway from side to side. He felt a pull towards the alraune. As if the world were bending around her. Twisting and shaping itself to draw him in deeper and deeper towards her.

“I… I sh-should go,” he gasped, turning.

“Are you sure?” Cucuria said, one of her lanterns suddenly dangling before him, the flame within swaying, captivating his eyes. “But I haven’t even made my offer.”

“I uh… I don’t think…” Michael said distantly as he watched the lantern bob, the green flame flickering and dancing. Fluttering and swirling…

“But you haven’t even heard what it is,” Cucuria said, her lantern moving around him, pulling him as if his eyes were tethered to the flame, compelling him to again face the pumpkin girl, her pouty lips filled with a smile, her lidded eyes gleaming with glowing promise. “Shouldn’t you hear my offer first?”

“I don’t… I don’t think…”

“Would it really be so bad?” Cucuria said.

Michael hesitated, his eyes following the lantern as it swayed, the witchfire again vaguely resembling a woman. A woman with big… soft breasts…

Would it be so bad? Just hearing her out surely wouldn’t… wouldn’t be a problem. “I… I suppose I could listen…”

“What a good boy,” Cucuria cooed, her words sending shivers up Michael’s spine. “I knew you would. Such a clever man knows a good deal when he hears one. And it is suuuuch a good deal. I’m sure you’ll absolutely love. It.”

“Uh huh,” he said, watching the flickering green flame sway, her tones rising, falling, like the ticking of a clock with every pendulous sway.

“It’s very simple, my handsome human. You give me some… mmm… of that wonderful lifeforce of yours, and make my breasts… mmm… all big… and soft… and you can do just… anything with them.”

“A-anything?” Michael said breathlessly.

“Anything,” Cucuria crooned.

Michael… Michael knew something was wrong here. And yet… and yet he couldn’t look away from her. From her chest. From her big, soft breasts. And to make them bigger… it stunned him to imagine. Those ripe melons growing heavier. Softer. Big as his head. Bigger than his head. Big enough to bury his head between them.

And yet… and yet…

He forced himself to remember Wittig’s body, because he couldn’t quite seem to move his head and look at it. Not while that lantern flame was swaying above her big orange breasts. Not when the shadows danced and chased each other over those curves with the swing of the lantern. He licked his lips. “I… I can’t… Wittig…”

“Was so veeeeery old,” Cucuria said, her voice like the whisper of an autumn breeze. Dripping with honeyed condescension. “So old and… used up… And it took him ever so many years to get so… drained… And you’re so very young. So very strong. So very…” Her tongue flicked across her lips. “Virile. Not to mention your magic. Why, I bet I won’t even need to touch your lifeforce. I bet I can just drink that sweet magic of yours. Just a quick sip, and you can do anything with my breasts. Why not sample them? Why not see if it’s worth it? Would one try really be so bad?”

Michael knew it would be. Instinctively he realized this. Yet he couldn’t seem to look away. He felt the warmth in his veins. The tingling arousal and heaviness of his balls. Gods he was warm. Gods he was horny. And what was a taste? A sample? Would it be so bad? Wittig had lived for decades. What was one quick try?

“I… I suppose… suppose a taste…” he said softly.

“Attaboy,” Cucuria said, her eyes shining in the glow of the lamps. “Now, take off those silly pants. You don’t need them.”

“Don’t need them…?”

“That’s right.”

Michael’s hands moved slowly, as if still not quite believing he was doing this. But he was. And it was fine. Everything was fine. He’d just get a taste. See what happened. Then he could head home. He could go home and… and forget all this happened.

But only after.

Only after…

He shucked his pants off, his cock tingling in the cool autumn breeze, his balls aching in the fondling of the wind. Cucuria’s eyes lit with anticipation.

“Good boy. My my! That’s a lovely cock. So big and thick. Mmmm. I can’t wait to give it a taste.”

Michael flushed with embarrassment and pleasure. His eyes were caught as a vine twisted up from the base of Cucuria’s pumpkin, the tip ending in a large bulb. As he watched the bulb opened, revealing a slick hole, drooling with sap.

“Come closer,” Cucuria said, her voice a whisper tickling in his ears. “Come closer, and let me show you… some fun…”

Michael nodded, drawn forward by the bobbing lamp. He found himself right before the alraune, her impressive breasts before his eyes, wobbling tantalizingly in the fluttering shadows of the witchfire lamps.

“Good boy,” Cucuria crooned.

“Ah!” Michael gasped as the bulb engulfed his cock, swallowing it in the warm tightness of its embrace. He groaned, his legs wobbling as the bulb gave a hungry suck, rippling around his manhood, sucking him like the most wonderful pair of lips he had ever known.

“Mmmmm. That’s it,” Cucuria breathed. “Goooood boy. Oh, I can feel how virile that big, thick cock of yours is. And those balls!” She giggled as vines slithered around his groin, cupping his balls in their twining grasp. “Mmm. So very full. I can’t wait to get a taste of that cum.”

Michael panted, barely able to process her words. His cock throbbed, needy, desperate. The flutter of the lamps sending shadows spinning around his eyes, their glow washing over his rapturous face as he thrust shamelessly into the hungry bulb, the slick sap making his cock so sensitive. So slick. “Ah!” he gasped. “Ah… ah… nnnnn! G-good. So gooood!”

“I know, stud,” Cucuria said, her hands gently cupping his cheeks, tilting his head back so he was looking into her glowing eyes. “It’s so good. So good for you. I’ll be so very good for you. And all you gotta do is pump. Pump that thick, manly cum for me. Pump for my tits. Pump it, stud. Pump. Pump!”

Michael obeyed. He couldn’t stop. Couldn’t dream of stopping. The feel of her bulb sucking his cock was beyond anything he’d known. The sap oozed down his shaft, warm on his balls. His body ached. He could feel his cum churn. His pleasure grow. His orgasm growing nearer. Nearer. His balls fit to burst! Just a little more. A little more…

“O-oooooooh!” Michael groaned, his body shuddering, his orgasm surging up from his heavy balls, pounding through his veins, rushing into his cock and exploding into the waiting flower. He shuddered as he pumped, as the bulb swallowed, thick bulges working down the vine and feeding into Cucuria’s base. He sagged, eyes fairly rolling back, body shuddering in unspeakable pleasure as her bulb drank down his cum, only remaining standing by the vines supporting his back and her hands on his head.

“Oh yesssss!” Cucuria moaned, her eyelids fluttering, lashes beating like leaves caught on an autumn breeze. “Oh baby yesss! So mmm… so goood! So much better than Wittig’s watery seed. Mmm. And look… ah… look at that.”

She tilted his head down, and Michael gaped as he watched her breasts bulge, swelling with every swallow of her stem, her orange tits growing so big and heavy he could fairly hear them slosh with her sap.

“Oh… Oh g-gods,” he breathed.

“All thanks to you, handsome,” Cucuria cooed. “Quite the taste, hm? And you’re still so hard! So vigorous. Do you want another taste?”

“A-another?” Michael gasped. “B-but…”

“Pleeeease?” Cucuria cooed, easing him forward, burying his face between those swelling orbs. “For meeeee?”

Michael’s eyes rolled back as those massive breasts engulfed his head. Perfect. Flawless. Soft. Firm. A farm boy like him knew the quality of good produce, and the melons engulfing his head were blue ribbon winners for sure. He shivered in the cool autumn night, but not from the cold. Another teasing suck engulfed his cock, and Michael groaned in delight.

“Y-yesssss,” he gasped.

“Good boy,” Cucuria giggled. “We’ll make a wonderful farmer of you yet.”

Michael could only moan as he found himself bending his knees, kneeling against the pumpkin of her lower body, his hips working, pumping him into the milking bulb. His hands cupped her massive breasts, squeezing them around his head, bouncing them, nuzzling them, his lips kissing those orange tits. Adoring them. Entranced by him.

By the witchlight of the pumpkin girl, Michael rutted into her, every spurt of his cum swelling the breasts around his head, yet never blocking out Cucuria’s words. Words that slithered into his helpless mind, wrapping up his thoughts in their dulcet tones and gentle instructions.

After all, there would be no question as to him taking over Wittig’s farm. His family would be delighted he was staying in town. Wittig had no heirs, so there would be no question of his ownership. Most would simply chuckle and shake their heads, saying that to farm was in the blood.

And his pumpkins would be even bigger than Wittig’s ever were. Even heavier. Even plumper.

And with his help, the growing season would last long in the coming years…

#brainwashing #mind control #alraune #plant girl #seduction #hypnotic #hypnotized #brain drain #mind corruption

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cult-of-the-eye · 6 months

Text

Mag 81 A Guest for Mr Spider

FUCK FORMER HEAD ARCHIVIST

Wait I need to check the timelines - this was 2 days after leitner's death

New spooky music???

My man is so fucking dramatic I love him so much "grand of sand behind my eye" love the way he speaks

Yeah FUCK JURGEN LEITNER

Omg the greying hair is canon??

Child in the 90s makes him at most 27 GOD DAMN. I was imagining like mid 30s...can you imagine a fucking 27 yr old using words like "ilk" when talking to you

Oh shit he's an orphan poor guy

Yeah ok a lot of his personality seems to make sense if you realise he was raised by his grandma

You know those memes that are like people raised by their grandparents are exceptionally polite but in a brisk way, talk fancy and are super posh? Yeah that's him.

Getting such neurodivergent vibes

Yeah he sounds like a main character from the start Jesus Christ he's such a kid who got traumatised and then grows up to be a horror protagonist vibes

My First Leitner lol like kids had to be introduced to them at a young age like those my first toys

He's so funny I can just imagine him as an 8 yr old getting super like affronted at this like how dare my grandma think I am of subpar intelligence he's such a little bitch from the start

"The eponymous Mr spider" even talking about his childhood trauma he's busting out the vocabulary

Fuck that story actually kinda rattled me I had my hand over my mouth in shock for most of it

I think it was the bit where the horsefly brought his son and they were both crying that got me, I could definitely imagine it scaring an 8 yr old

The way it drags out as well, with the pages of the same scene it really heightens the suspense

Is his childhood bully someone we should keep track of?? Love how he says Michael probably cause he sees him as a bully lol

It's interesting how despite him bullying him (quite badly seeing as though he beat him up) he's still like yeah but he saved my life and that means he deserves to be remembered

My bro didn't save your life on purpose, he was just trying to make it worse and happened to come to a terrible fate cause of that

I guess underneath it all he was still a kid who watched someone die, knowing they'd get eaten by a fucking spider, he still held him in some regard

The way he specified the guy was his bully even after he was being eaten though lol

He was desperate to get the book back? That's a leitner thing I guess, the book makes you want to keep it so it can finish whatever it wanted to do to you

On my relisten (which I will do once I've finished the series I'm sure of it), I'll have to look out for any reaction of leitners name

I wonder why Jon didn't react more to Carlos vittery's statement, like it must've terrified him? I saw a post a while back explaining Jon's thoughts and IT WAS GENIUS it was like of course he doesn't react, he must be terrified that someone knew about his experience and somehow did this to mess with him or it was a joke and he can't let anyone know that the Head Archivist is not Good at This ugh it's so good I'll tag it if I can find it

AHHHHH HE REGRETS DISMISSING THE OTHER STATEMENTS AHHHHHH

HE FINALLY ADMITS THAT HE NEEDS HELP WE LOVE THIS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT YES YOU FUCKING DO BITCH.

yeah at least he's right about Elias killing leitner

GEORGIE THE EX GIRLFIEND

ITS SO WEIRD TO SEE HIM ACTUALLY NICE TO SOMEONE WOW HIS VOICE CHANGES SLIGHTLY AS WELL HES LESS ACADEMIC

THE ADMIRAL

Awwww he's so cute with georgie

GHOST PODCAST GHOST PODCAST

THE WHAT THE GHOST T SHIRT IS CANON???? AHH THATS SO CUTE

Can he not go back to his own flat?? Did he bring all his clothes to the archive and then subsequently leave them there? Does he even have a flat??

God Georgie is so nice I would kill for her

It's so funny that an apparent supernatural cynic dated a ghost podcaster

WOW SEASON 3 OFF TO AN AMAZING START I CANT WAIT TO KEEP LISTENING IM GONNA TELL MY THERAPIST ABOUT THIS TOMORROW!!!

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #jarchivist #a guest for mr spider #the web #tma season 3 #georgie barker #tma georgie #jurgen leitner #what the ghost #the admiral

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loveandmurders · 1 year

Note

slasher with an female s/o who is an 80's aerobics gym teacher? just imagine how jealous they will be if a male student ask for a prívate class

Hello there! Thank you so much for this very original and funny request!

To match the era the best, I picked Michael, Jason and Bubba, I hope it's okay! Also it's the first time I write for Jason and Bubba so be indulgent with me :) <3

Hope you'll enjoy <3

Warnings : Michael stalking you, mention of killing, mention of blood, morally grey reader (I mean... you are dating slashers and you know it), self conscious and insecure Jason, violent deaths, Bubba is called they/them, very excited Bubba.

Michael Myers

Michael really enjoyed how your body was shaped thanks to all the workout you did throughout the day. And even though he isn’t a really sexually active slasher, he still could appreciate the sight.

He also really liked to stalk you during your class. He loved how full of assurance and confidence you were, he loved how steady the sound of your voice was as you encouraged your students, and he adored seeing your body moving along with the music. You seemed so strong and agile.

More than once he thought you would be a perfect killer too, even if he would never let you know he had such ideas about you.

You were his sunshine and he didn’t mind that you preferred to stay out of his bloody business.

He started to stalk you even more when he noticed, one day, that one of your male students was often coming to you after the classes to ask you for advice.

It seemed pretty innocent at first, but Michael was good at watching people and he hated the way the man seemed a little bit too close to you and the way he discreetly looked at you.

Michael could tell the man wanted something from you and he really didn’t like it at all.

You were his.

After this, Michael started to follow you all day and night until you would be back home. He would never let you out of his sight, except if he needed to kill someone in his path.

It was how he saw you, one evening, with that male student.

He frowned behind his mask as he noticed that you were alone with him. It was the first time it was happening and he had no idea what was going on.

One thing he knew for sure was that he hated this private class.

He also had the impression that the man was badly positioning his body on purpose so you would need to come closer to correct his posture.

When the student pretended to lose his balance to fall at your feet and then grabbed your hand to stand up, with a little laugh, Michael thought he was trying to flirt with you or something like that. The man cracked a joke and you laughed as well.

It was too much for Michael who appeared in the room, and before you could react he grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and threw him on the ground, his knife ready to strike.

You reached for Michael’s arm, trying to stop him, before realising that your student would then understand that you knew Michael and that he was indeed still around, killing people.

Michael waited for you to let go of his arm to kill your student.

You pouted at all the blood on the ground. You were quite upset with Michael, clueless to why he did such a thing. You silently left to grab what to clean up the mess he did.

When you came back, Michael was gone but there was a little note put on the body.

“Mine” you read

Oh, so he killed out of jealousy.

You found this a little too hot for anyone’s own good.

Jason Voorhees

Jason was your #1 Fan.

He loved to watch you working out or teaching some students as he was hiding away.

He found your energy and the positive vibes very attractive

You were such a bright woman, who had so much love and attention to give… You were perfect in his eyes, because you were good and innocent.

You were everything his mother would have approved too.

But that day he spotted you with just one student in your classroom… He was just unable to understand why you were alone with him.

He hated how the man was so pretty too.

He was everything that he wasn’t.

Jason never looked at himself in the mirror, and had a hard time removing the mask around you, even when you were sleeping, because he couldn’t believe you would find someone like him attractive enough.

It was difficult for him to think his emotions through.

But what he knew, in that moment, was that he hated that you were currently alone with a man you could enjoy having a relationship with.

He knew you explained to him several times that you were a teacher, which meant you sometimes needed to touch your students to help them find the right position or to have private class with them to help them progress; this time it didn’t feel right for Jason.

He watched the two of you, and the way the man seemed doing so right: yeah, this guy really didn’t need a private class with you to progress.

Jason was a sweetie, really. Adorable and caring with you. He never felt anything remotely close to jealousy because he trusted you.

But this… He couldn't stand it.

He didn’t want to upset you though, so unlike Michael he didn’t interrupt your class to murder the man.

He actually waited outside, grabbed the man, tugged him to the forest and killed him by smashing a stone to his face, over and over again, until the man was a bloody unrecognisable mess. Jason stood over him and watched his work before getting rid of the body.

He felt better, calmer, now the man was dead because it meant he wouldn’t be able to seduce you away from him.

Jason came back home and waited for you, as if nothing had happened. When you arrived you greeted him and kissed him like usual. It appeased him to know that nothing had changed between the two of you.

But he wanted more, the soft murderous boy needed some more reassurance, so instead of letting you go upstairs for you to take a shower, he grabbed your wrist and brought you on his lap.

You were a little bit startled by that behaviour, as Jason was always very careful before touching you or starting some cuddle time. His mother taught him to respect people’s boundaries and consents.

You didn’t fully understand what was going on when Jason tightly hugged you against his chest, but you guessed he needed affection.

You cuddled on the couch with him and gently murmured sweet nothings to his ear until he let you go.

The next day, you discovered your student was reported missing and you started to connect the dots…

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba adored your aerobic classes!!

Actually whenever they could, they joined in! And they tried their best to follow your movement and to be a good student, because they also loved your praises very much!

But because they took a lot of space and didn’t really care about anyone else but you in the room, it was easier for you to deal with them in private class. And they enjoyed it even more; all your attention could be on them that way!

But they didn’t like it when you were having those private classes with other people, because it meant your attention was fully on someone else.

Bubba couldn’t articulate that they were feeling jealousy. They were just a big amount of love for you, like a giant teddy bear always all excited to see you. With the rest of the world that wasn’t their family, they were a murderous and violent person ready to slaughter anyone with their chainsaw.

It meant they couldn't stand seeing you alone with anyone else.

Bubba was a big baby, needing attention and praises, unlike their family ever truly gave them

So whenever you tried to have a private class with someone else, you always looked around the room with a little bit of apprehension.

You knew Bubba was going to appear at some point.

That day, you were with a male student, which somehow always made things worse in Bubba’s eyes. You weren’t too sure why. Probably because they were used to seeing you hang out with female friends, and not so much with male friends.

And you could always explain to them that your students have a different kind of relationship with you.

Bubba couldn’t understand it.

Those people looked at you for a whole session and followed your orders so it meant they loved you like Bubba and their family did. Period.

You slowly calmed down as your class progressed, thinking that maybe Bubba was busy with killing people.

How wrong you were.

As you let your guard fully down, Bubba bursted into the room in his little gym outfit and with his chainsaw…

Your student cried out at the sight, and you were quick to come closer to him, trying to appease him by telling him that the chainsaw was just a toy, and not a real one.

(It clearly hadn’t been your greatest lie, but you panicked)

Bubba started to dance to the rhythm of the music you were playing for your class and they were really happy that the attention was on them again.

You were about to say something when they started the chainsaw on.

You jumped at the loud sound and your student fell on the ground, in pure fear.

You sighed to yourself and sat on the ground, watching Bubba doing their little dance while holding their chainsaw in the air.

You perfectly knew how it was going to end, so you just decided to wait patiently for the end.

The music ended, and the chainsaw met your male student’s face before he could even try to run away from the room.

You shook your head at Bubba “No, no, no, Bubba baby, you didn’t keep the rhythm till the end”

Bubba sadly whined at you.

Taglists:

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@g0thl3zz

@erasable-mustache

@cavern-creature

@peachycupotea

@p0rn-stargirl

@akemiixx01

@zebralover

#michael myers headcanons #michael myers x s/o #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #michael myers x y/n #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees x you #jason voorhees x s/o #jason voorhees x y/n #bubba sawyer x you #bubba saywer x reader #bubba sawyer x y/n #bubba sawyer x s/o #bubba sawyer headcanons #jason voorhees headcanons

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imagionationstation · 16 days

Note

Do you have any au ideas you’d like to share? Preferably 2012 Donatello centric..

*Bats eyelashes innocently.*

(If not, no problem! I really don’t mind lol)

*stares at you*

*stares are you harder*

I never in my life imagined that I would get this question. I’m the concerning individual who spends my days hunting down Donnie AUs to quench my insatiable thirst for content. What are you doing.

You are not meant to ask me.

BUT SINCE YOU ALREADY DID NO TAKE-BACKS

Okay, so other than this masterpost that I made for everything that exists in some form, I have an AU that’s been on my brain for the last ever but I never started it because What Was Lost was/is already in the works. Activity focusing on two AUs about the same turtle at the same time is unwise.

Though writing What Was Lost and Feral Raphie is no picnic

Introducing: Broken Spectre AU

This AU is a ✨crossover✨ between Rise and 2012. Both shows happen in the exact same pattern up through the Movie and the episode The Power Inside Of Her. The only difference is how April brings Donnie back…

You see, at the same moment that Donnie was popped in the night sky (wow, my own imagery is messed up), another dimension’s Micheal was doing what he was absolutely not allowed to do under any circumstances- practicing his powers without a brother present.

It wasn’t planned or anything. With Leo resting, Raph getting pizzas, and Donnie in his lab- an opportunity presented itself and he took it! Michael’s brothers never let him try the really fun stuff because his magic is still in recovery, and his cracks reamerage when he pushes his powers past mediation. They’re smaller now, healing with time like Draxum promised, but they still scare the shells off his loving, overprotective family.

There’s something so freeing about tapping into the strength whirling in his chest- like waking up fully rested and confident after a good night sleep. He really wasn’t doing anything. Playing around with chains, painting with magic. Nothing insane.

And, just as he’s putting the finishing touches on his canvas of sparkling gold, he feels a tug. An agony. A hurt. Something being ripped apart like a paper, life tossed about like confetti. It vibrates through time and space like nothing ever should, and he knows that, he knows it’s not right. Mikey can feel it, like his brothers standing next to him, touching his ninpo, a soft tap of fluttering life- and when he focuses, he can feel every sensation of their agony, every inch of their panic, every glow of life that fades away, merging back with the universe. It’s dying. It’s scared and it’s alone and it’s dying.

He doesn’t realize his eyes have lit up in a shining yellow. He doesn’t know that a portal is open in front of him, thinner than his portal to the prison dimension, but just as strong. He doesn’t know he’s reaching through, that his ninpo is calling out. He doesn’t know that he takes, blue dots fluttering at his fingers, turning into a ribbon of purple, flowing into his palm. He feels a sudden disruption, an error with his ninpo, like a fence surrounding wild sheep, forcing them into adapt and graze in a smaller land.

His ninpo cuts off, and the light leaves his eyes. He falls to the ground, heart pounding and body flushed with adrenaline, staring at the blank wall, void of the gold that lit up the area. He breathes, shocked and uncertain, before he gets to his feet.

“What-?”

He screams, whirling to face the quiet voice, scrambling back from the specter cloaked in gray. It pulls three reaching fingers back, eyes composed only in black and mouth curved into a frown. It’s brows furrow, a band of light grey around an oval head outlining the action, mouthing opening to reveal a small gap. It’s stands tall, but it’s voice is a whisper formed of thin air, echoing in Mikey’s head.

“Who are you?” It questions, soft and distant. Then, almost as an afterthought, “Who am I?”

The first question is a breeze.

“My name’s Mikey, and, um…”

If only the second is as easy.

-This clip is pending editing to properly analyze Michael’s brainspace and actions in this moment and confirm what should remain and what should change. This is merely an experiment-

NAH SO LIKE HELPFUL KIDNAPPING, IG

I’ve seen a couple Donnie-in-Rise stuff and I think this could be SO ANGSTY. Michael interfered with events and tried to help, but he only ended up stealing away a piece of his soul. So when April brings him back together- he’s not the same. He blanks out on them, confused about the simplest things. He forgets names and things and places. He has trouble retaining new information. His ki is faded and no matter how many times that Leo says that it will heal, it doesn’t. Eventually, they realize that he isn’t simply drained. He’s been sliced, separated, divided. A piece of him is missing.

And without that piece, he’ll only continue to deteriorate.

And that piece is hanging out with Michael. It simply exists, passive and snarky, confused but unable to recall ever not being a spirit. He’s forced to be wherever Michael is. He doesn’t really care. Mikey is the only constant- the only thing that he’s ever sure is true. Michael doesn’t mind the companion. At least, that’s what he tells himself, determined not to reveal to his brothers that he went behind their back to do what he agreed never to do.

The Spectre makes commentary that his brothers can’t hear, nostalgic for things that he can’t remember. Mikey encourages him to talk about it, hoping to learn anything that might tell him who this stranger is. It comes in random spurts through the day. He has brothers. One of them cooks, like Mikey. Another worries, like Raph. Acts braver than he is, like Leo. He has a sister. She’s never around. He has parents. He thinks one of them is dead.

He has a home. He can’t recall anything about it, but it exists. He always becomes small, burdened by what he can’t remember, broken by what he doesn’t know. He hates thinking about it.

“I don’t want to be here, without them,” he says in his ghostly, whispering voice. “I think you should have let me die.”

Mikey tries to pretend that absolutely nothing is wrong, but eventually, his brothers start to catch on to his avoidance. How awkward he is around them. How often he talks to himself. How drained he always seems. And they bring this up to Draxum.

Mikey does his best to avoid any kind of intervention, but against his will, his brothers preform one anyway. They find out the truth, and Draxum discovers that Michael’s ninpo has been invaded. In order to save the piece of a soul, he’s using his own ninpo to keep it alive. Ninpo isn’t meant to be used 24/7. He’s draining his own reserves, and if he keeps it up for too long, he may irreparably damage his ninpo. The only way to solve the problem is to release the spirit.

Something that Mikey absolutely refuses to do.

If the Spectre is a missing piece, then Mikey wants to put him back together. Mikey refuses to let this piece disappear into nothingness when he had the ability to fix it. He doesn’t know how or when, but he’s going to fix this. He messed up by separating him. Even if it’s just bringing the piece back so his spirit can die properly, he’ll do it.

No matter what the cost. Not matter what it takes.

He has a family out there. Mikey has to try.

And, of course, his family has no intention of letting him do it alone.

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