#Motorcycle Earplugs

[xsleepinggoodx]

Mikey dating hcs!

I literally just wanted to write this short drabble of what it would be like to date Mikey.

Enjoy <3

———————————————————————————

Mikey does small things for you that really make you kick your feet and giggle.

If you’re not scared of his motorcycle you’ll be begging him to let you drive it. Stealing his keys after Toman meetings, racing to his bike and he’s chasing you to try to get there first, then you’ll just convince him to let you drive it

I think this is the cutest thing ever, if you’re siting together quietly and just chilling with him, he’ll take your hand and just start cracking your knuckles. Even your thumb and when you flinch he just nods but he keeps going LMAO

Lets you play with his hair

His kisses are so so SO good and he’s the best cuddler if that’s even a word?

Snuggly cutie patootie

When he’s jealous he’ll just stare daggers at the person he’s jealous of and take you away, or kissing you, smirking at whoever he was jealous of.

You guys share earplugs together

Late night bike rides ofc

You guys take walks, deep talking. He loves that stuff.

You bet he probably only has Pinterest just so he could look at your boards and see what you like.

Buys you gifts based on your boards or Amazon lists.

I think his love languages are gift giving, physical touch, and words of affirmation. Like he definitely buys you gifts that he heard you say that you wanted. He’s just attentive like that😍

If you like cats and you want one, he definitely goes to Baji’s pet store and buys you guys two cats. Has beef with them when they’re too close to you.

If you have plushies I’m your room, he punches them and raises his middle finger to them when you’re not there.

7/11 slurpy dates

That’s all I can think on top of my head for now but let me know if you guys want more!

The sneak peak I posted yesterday is coming soon I just need to finish it. I hope you guys will like it.

I wish Mikey was real.😖

[keikikait]

ɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜱʜɪꜰᴛ (ʙɪᴋᴇʀ!ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

this is part two. for part one, click here!

pairing: biker!megumi x f!reader (au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 2k

summary: after a rude encounter with your next door neighbour, you decide to spend distance yourself from him, spending most of your nights at a friends house.

warnings: SMUT (masturbation, f & m), MINORS DNI 18+, suggestive flirting, not proofread (oops), jealous megumi, slight self deprecation talk (so ig a slight angst warning)

a note: i promise part 3 won't be delayed as much!

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Things have gotten worse since you last spoke.

Each day begins with the jarring sound of his motorcycle revving right outside your window, shattering the tranquility of the morning. The noise reverberates through your whole apartment, making it impossible to ignore. And to make matters worse, he started blasting the worst rap music you’ve ever heard from a portable speaker while he works on his bike on Saturday afternoons. The cacophony of noise fills the air, making it impossible to concentrate or find any semblance of peace within your own home. 

Even though you’ve been trying to avoid him, checking outside your window a few too many times before leaving so you don’t run into him, he’s still been plaguing your mind. You had caught him like a cold or the flu, and now you’re praying that you’ll one day be immune. Sleeping was practically impossible, even the strongest earplugs and the loudest white noise couldn’t block out the sound of his, frankly, stupid fucking bike. You go to work irritable and exhausted, having to hype yourself up in the bathroom before clocking in. You dread going home, begging your manager to let you work late, trying to find every excuse to hang back and avoid your inevitable negative interaction with Megumi.

After days of sleepless nights and endless worry, you had finally reached your breaking point. With a heavy heart, you had mustered up the courage to do something you'd been dreading — ask a friend for a favor. With trembling hands, you dialed your friend Yuji’s number, hoping that he would understand. To your immense relief, he listened patiently and without judgment. You poured out your heart, sharing the sleepless nights and the constant fear that had become your reality.

To your surprise, Yuji didn't hesitate, offering you a place to stay for the days Megumi would wake up early to head to work, a sanctuary where you could finally rest and recharge. You accepted his offer, overwhelmed with gratitude, knowing it would give you the solace you desperately needed. The nights before Megumi's shifts became a routine. You would gather your belongings and head to Yuji's place, seeking refuge from the darkness that seemed to engulf your apartment. 

Each night, you would lie awake in your friend's spare bedroom, listening to the sounds of the outside world. The gentle hum of traffic, the distant laughter of passersby — these were the sounds of a life that seemed so far removed from your own. Part of you loved your time spent away from Megumi. Part of you didn’t. Even though he was annoying, stuck up, and frankly a bitch, he was so pretty to look at. You couldn’t help yourself sometimes, sneakily taking glances at him through your window while he worked on his bike, shirtless and sweating under the Japanese summer sun.

You felt guilty in a way. He hated you, yet you didn’t hate him. Why are you hanging on so tight? You wanted to hate him so badly, especially while you were laying propped up on your bed, had between your soft thighs as you thrust two fingers in and out of your cunt. You couldn’t help yourself, biting your duvet cover to keep yourself from moaning his name too loudly while you came, hips bucking into your hand while you imagined the ways he would talk you through it. You couldn’t help but imagine how handsome he would look with you all over his mouth, grinning at you as you beg to cum. Would he let you? Sometimes you would get carried away, sliding your fingers over your clit to draw out another orgasm, one that would leave you silent curled in a ball on your bed. Megumi seemed like the type to overstimulate you just for fun, after all. He clouded your mind, engulfing you with visions of him encased in smoke. He was beautiful, finite, a shining white light you had a hard time looking at. You were, quite frankly, down bad. 

Suffer does the wolf, crawling to thee.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

On the other side of the plaster wall, Megumi was having a similar experience. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, hoping if he revved his engine loud enough in the mornings you would come outside, all cute and grumpy with bedhead, yelling at him to quiet down. Maybe you would only be wearing a T-shirt too. He wondered what panties you would be wearing. Cotton? Lace? None at all?

He noticed your glances while he was working on his bike. After all, he did it shirtless hoping you would stare. All he wants is your attention, and can you blame him? You’re so soft and pretty, and all he wants to do is scoop you up and kiss you before bending you over his desk, his hand gripping your hair at the root as he fucks you dumb. He thinks about what you would sound like while he fucks you as he jerks off, one hand playing with his balls while the other strokes his cock up and down, teasing the tip with his fingers. He wonders what you would look like on your knees next to his bed, his cock draped across your face as you suck on his balls. He moans quietly when he cums, the liquid splattering onto his chest and abs and he wishes you were around to lick it up. Maybe after he would tug on your hair and have you thank him.

Megumi noticed a lot of things. He couldn't help but notice certain the frequent absences from your usual routine. With each passing day, Megumi's curiosity grew, and he started to pay closer attention to your whereabouts. That’s when he saw it, a dark blue car consistently parked at the entrance of the alleyway leading to your apartment building, the one you would climb in and out of on the days you were gone, the days you were away from him. Of course he took a note of the car, writing down the make and the model and the license plate, just in case.

Something else Megumi started noticing was your moans. You got braver and louder each time, and soon he noticed the way you would gasp and whimper and the little noise you made before you came. Megumi soon started feeling something he hadn’t felt in a while, jealousy. You had a boyfriend or a fuck-buddy, and whoever they are was able to make you cum. That part irritated him, he wanted to be the only one that could make you cum and shake on his cock or his tongue. The semantics of your relationship didn’t matter to him, but you were with someone who wasn’t him. So he waited for you to return, leaning against the railing of his small porch. He knew your schedule now, and you should be home any second. 

As the car pulls up, its headlights shine directly onto him, causing Megumi to avert his eyes. He watches as you step out of the car, bidding the driver, whom he can see now is a guy, farewell before making your way toward your door. The gravel crunched as the car reversed and smoothly drove away, leaving you and him standing alone in the tranquil evening. With a nimble hop, he crossed the railing and approached you, a faint smile playing across his lips. The world seemed to pause for a moment, as if time itself stood still, as you locked eyes with each other.

“Hey.” He says, climbing up onto your porch, swinging his legs over the barrier, and landing on his feet.

You don’t look up as you search for your keys. “You could’ve used the stairs.”

He grins. “Maybe I wanted to impress you.” The comment makes your cheeks warm, but you don’t reply as you continue to search through your seemingly endless tote bag. He sighs, “Listen, I have a question.”

You look up at him, and gods he is so pretty. You feel your blush deepen, trying not to gawk at the way his shoulders and arms look in that fucking black compression shirt. “Ask away.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “So, you got a boyfriend?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “No. Why?” You finally find your keys, pulling them out as they jingle loudly from all of your keychains.

Megumi scoffs, keeping his arms crossed. “Come on. I’m not an idiot. I hear you moaning through the wall, you know.”

Your stomach lurches, your throat constricting. “Tha-that doesn’t mean anything.”

Megumi laughs, letting his arms drop to his side. “What about that guy that drives you everywhere?”

You put your key into the lock, swallowing hard. “He’s just my friend. I’ve been staying at his place recently-”

Megumi suddenly reaches out and grabs your hand, pulling the key out. “Don’t walk away. We’re having a conversation.” You gulp, holding onto your keys. He was right, that was kind of rude. “Continue.”

You take a shaky breath, unable to look him in the eyes, your gaze flicking around from the ground to the sunset behind him. “He’s just my friend. Nothing more.”

“Why aren’t you looking at me?” Megumi asks, trying to get in your line of sight. “Don’t look over there. Look at me.” You nod, looking at him, muttering an apology. Megumi smirks. “Good girl.”

Your throat dries up. This man is driving you crazy, and you can feel your thighs getting slick under your skirt. You subconsciously squeeze them together. “He-he isn’t my boyfriend. He’s just my friend.”

Megumi nods. “But you sleep together, right?”

“No.”

Megumi hums in response, getting closer to you. You instinctively back up until you hit the other railing. He towers over you, and you’re greeted with the smell of his cologne and shampoo as he smirks down at you. “Then what has you moaning so prettily, hmm? Is there another guy in your life?”

You shake your head. “N-no, I’m doing it, you know…solo.”

Megumi’s shoulders drop in relief. You don’t have anyone else. Does that mean he can have you all to himself? “What do you think about? When you touch yourself?” His voice is deep and smooth, right in your ear, causing your knees to buckle.

You gulp. “Nothing in particular.” He smirks. He doesn’t believe you. He reaches out to brush some hair out of your face but you move away, clutching your keys in your hands. He tries again, reaching for your arm this time, but you move away again.

You feel weird. He’s making an advance, one you aren’t opposed to, but you can’t seem to let your guard down and let him approach you. You sweat, shakily putting your key into the lock. You wanted to turn around, to throw your arms around him and let him take control of you, but you felt the familiar feeling of dread eating at your insides, sliding up your throat like bile. This almost felt too good to be true. You had spent weeks wishing for this exact moment, but now that it’s unraveling in front of you it’s hard to believe it’s happening and isn’t some sick, twisted joke. Had you stretched your self-worth too thin? Were you foolish for thinking Megumi would actually want you?

Megumi says your name so softly you almost didn’t hear it, concern etched on his face and laced in his voice. You ignore him, quickly unlocking your door and sliding inside your apartment, shutting the door in his face.

Megumi stands there, both confused and concerned. Had he come on too strong? Did he waste his one and only chance by scaring you? He reaches out to knock on your door before hesitating. He wanted a second chance, an opportunity to tell you that he didn’t mean it, that he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or scared, but he couldn’t bring himself to press his knuckles onto the wood. He drops his hand and walks away, back to his apartment, feeling like he just ruined everything he could’ve had with you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part three is here

★taglist: @whereflowerswenttodie, @rosieandthethorns (reply to this post if you want to be included in the taglist!)

[padfootagain]

Black Dog Neighbour

Hi everyone ! Today, we’re answering a request made for my 6k followers event by @nobodyshomearchive : “hi hello lovely xxi have been hooked to your blog lately, and to say that is an understatement in all honesty. congratulations on 6k followers <33 so for your celebration can i get an enemies to lovers (ouh massive surprise 👀) with sirius black (preferably post azkaban but it's okay if you don't want to!) cause i'm literally so head over heels for that man. and i'm loving your something good series :) again, congrats and feel free to ignore the request if you don't feel like writing it/it doesn't hit your creative spot.

have a great day/night hun <;3”

Thank you so much for your request, and I hope you like this! I didn’t do post-azkaban Sirius, because he doesn’t exist in my brain. I have been in denial for so long, the Potters are living their best lives, didn’t you know?!

Anyway, still went for post-Hogwarts and post-war Sirius, simply didn’t include anything referencing to Azkaban or… anything canon compliant, to be fair. But as per usual for me when it comes to this character…

Hope you like this! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Warnings: A small warning for an ex being an arse and showing up drunk on your doorstep (there’s nothing violent, but you do physically push him away, so heads up on that, just in case). But the rest’s cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute!!!

Summary: God, you hate that guy next door. Bloody annoying neighbour with his noisy motorcycle, his loud friends, his annoying laugh, his charming smile, his amazing hair, his effortless way to sport sexy leather jackets. He’s insufferable, you hate him to bits. The fact that he’s a talented wizard who can magically change into a dog to guard your door when your ex comes bothering you again will not change your first impression in the slightest, by the way. You still hate him to guts. Probably…

Word count: 4592

Sirius Black Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Sirius fucking Black.

Your neighbour, aka worst enemy, aka the person you despise the most on earth.

He is loud. He is annoyingly pretty. He is getting on your fucking nerves... again!

Of course, it is Friday night, which means that his stupid friends are over for a “boys’ night”. What a scam…

In consequence, you are currently casting sound-proofing spells all over your walls in an attempt to shush their idiotic laughs. And especially Sirius’s; his unmistakable bark-like laughter, loud and boisterous and absolutely prone to draw a grin from your face even if you don’t mean to. By Agrippa’s hat, you will soon either cut his throat or call for an auror. Or maybe you could burst into his apartment and shout into his face just so he can see how bloody annoying that is. Or kissing him to shut him up sounds like a plan, too…

You shake your head, grinning at your own genius idea. Sirius and his friends are being rudely loud again, when you have already told them a thousand times – which is to say every Friday for the last six months, since Sirius moved in the apartment next to yours – that the walls in this old building of Diagon Alley are too thin, that you can hear everything going on in Sirius’s apartment despite sound-proofing spells… and that they need to keep it down past 11pm because you have work the next day. The absolute dread of working in retails does not, by any means, spare the Wizards and Witches of this world…

You look through your apartment for the object that would make the most noise. You give a few items a try, but settle for the good old pan and spoon. Ha, what precious allies these two are, never failing you.

You add a little spell to amplify sounds – just for good measure – find some earplugs, and then proceed to bang the shit out of that pan, right by your common wall with Sirius’s apartment.

It goes on for five full minutes before you manage to catch the quietened sound of something against your door…

And sure enough, when you stop and take your earplugs out, someone is banging at your door.

“Y/N!” a voice that you easily recognize shouts. “STOP THIS FUCKING NOISE!”

You open the door wide, and have to bend to the side to avoid Sirius’s fist as it misses the door.

“Merlin! Sorry! You’re okay? I didn’t touch you, right?” Sirius asks with anger instantly replaced with worry.

“I have amazing reflexes.”

And anger is back into his dark grey eyes again...

“What the fuck are you doing in there?! Are you mental?!”

“I don’t know, Sirius. I didn’t notice anything over the cacophony of your friends shouting into my ears all night!”

His jaw clenches, and you hate yourself for noticing the trembling of the muscle there, and finding it terribly attractive…

“And you had to make all this ruckus instead of simply walking three meters to my door and nicely ask us to shut our mouths because…?”

“Because I’ve asked you dozens of times, this has been going on for fucking months, Sirius!”

He rolls his eyes, and Merlin do you want to punch him straight across the jaw… his very sharp, very pretty jaw…

“We’re just having a nice evening…”

“And I am trying to sleep!”

“It’s barely midnight!”

“I work tomorrow, you asshole!”

“Ermm… guys?”

“WHAT?!” you both exclaim, turning to face a shy-looking Remus.

“Sorry about the noise, Y/N. We’ll be more careful next time. We’ll leave for the evening.”

“You don’t have to leave…” Sirius complains, but James is already walking out, helping a drunk Peter to cross the corridor.

“It’s late, anyway. Lily’s gonna worry, I was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago,” James argues, and Sirius has to yield.

“Alright, see you on Sunday, then!” he shoots his friends a grin, and the group waves at you.

You rudely ignore them, crossing your arms before your chest. And as Sirius turns back to you, his frown is icy and he quickly matches your stance.

“You’re such a pain in my ass, Y/N…”

“And you’re a jerk.”

“Asshole.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“You’re one to talk!”

“Oh, you talk plenty enough for both of us. And loudly so!”

Before he can reply, you’ve stepped back into your apartment and slammed the door.

You hear him pestering after you for a moment, then nothing, and finally a door slamming.

Well, that went well…

You are in trouble.

Big… huge trouble.

Your ex has just stepped into your shop, and you don’t know how to react.

You didn’t break up in a horrendous way, on the contrary! He wanted the two of you to remain friends, and you simply didn’t, worried that you wouldn’t be able to get over each other if you stayed in touch. And by the look he gave you as he stepped inside your shop ten minutes ago, and the many glances he’s thrown at you since, you’re pretty sure that you were right about this.

It's not like your relationship was terrible, by any means. Josh was nice, reliable, but also… not for you. You didn’t have much in common, at the end of the day, and if his personality and looks were nice, it was hard to build a lasting relationship on… nothing. It was for the best that you called it quits.

And as if your day needed any darkening, Sirius Black chooses this very moment to step into your shop. You don’t wait for him to aim for the counter to take out a large pouch in which you have gathered all the ingredients for his friend’s monthly brew. He smiles at the sight, moves towards you. And you hate yourself for the leap your heart makes as he comes closer.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi.”

It’s the first time you speak to each other since the ‘spoon and pan incident’, and you both hesitate. How are you supposed to act now? Apologise for being petty and kind of a dick? Ask for his apology for being a dick? Act like nothing happened?

“Thanks for Remus’s stuff,” Sirius says, voice quieter than usual, gentle, asking for a truce.

Outside, it’s snowing, winter claiming the streets of London, and there are little snowflakes caught in Sirius’s hair. It looks lovely.

All of a sudden, you’re longing for some eggnog, and some pumpkin pie.

His fingers are cold when they meet yours, tips brushing over your knuckles as he picks up the bag, and you hate your own heart for stammering.

“No problem. You know the drill,” you tentatively smile, while Sirius hands you some silvery Sickles.

“I would also need pearl dust, please. Here’s the amount.”

He hands you a parchment with quantities written on it, four small packages to be prepared separately.

“How many hearts do you intend to break with so many love potions?” you joke, turning around to get to work.

The brass scale is set on a small table, pushed right against the wall, behind the counter. It is an easy task for a professional like you, measuring quickly while Sirius laughs.

“No one, thankfully,” he replied.

“Oh… some Amortentia, perhaps? Trying to figure out who your crush likes?”

“No… nothing like that. It’s the properties for invisibility that I’m looking for.”

“If you plan on breaking into Gringotts, I don’t want to know.”

Again, a loud laugh. And you wish you could hold back your smile, but you can’t, the sound is too infectious for that.

You’ve forgotten that your ex is here, you’re reminded of his presence only when you turn back towards Sirius and he’s standing right behind your tall neighbour, a bag of potion ingredients in his hands.

You avert your eyes, and Sirius frowns at the sight. He glances over his shoulder, spots your ex, but says nothing. You only notice how he tightens his hold on the pouch.

“Pearl dust’s quite expensive,” you tell him, handing him the phials, before announcing the price.

“That’s alright.”

He hands you the galleons, takes the vials, but doesn’t step away just yet.

“You… you’re okay?” he asks, and you’re not sure what to do with his expression. It’s somewhere between annoyance and genuine concern.

“Yeah, sure.”

He nods, like he’s disappointed. He’s not bringing up The Incident, and so you won’t either.

“Right, good day.”

He turns in a hurry, not waiting for your answer, but you notice the way he throws a look back before stepping out into the street, snow falling over his dark coat and dark hair again. You hate how your eyes linger on his frame until he’s out of sight, walking down the busy street, but you can’t help it…

“Hello, Y/N.”

You’re brought back to Earth as your ex speaks, and you turn to him, your smile turning from genuine to polite.

“Hi, Josh.”

“How are you?”

“Good! Do you need anything else?” you ask, pointing at the ingredients he’s put on the counter.

“Huh… no, nothing else.”

“That makes two Galleons, 5 Sickles and 3 Knuts, please.”

He hands you some money, and you hand him his change. You see him hesitating, before diving.

“Look, I… I came here hoping to see you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I… I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about what happened, and… Look, I know I could have done better when it came to us. And I thought… perhaps… if you were willing to give me another chance…”

“Josh…”

“Just… hear me out...”

“No. I’m sorry, but no. We… we were not compatible, that’s all. I like you, you’re nice, but… It won’t work between us.”

Slowly, he nodded, apparently defeated. And when another client cleared their throat behind him, he finally left.

What a mess of a morning…

It is Friday night, and the Marauders are keeping it down. You are surprised by it, but you can only praise these men for being, for once, well-behaved. 11:30, as you slip under the covers, ready for some well-deserved rest before waking up too early to open the shop in the morning. You are ready to fall into Morpheus’s arms and abandon yourself to slumber when someone knocks on your door.

You ignore the sound for a while, but it starts again, and again…

And you thought Sirius was making some efforts. You were ready to commit murder…

You stand up, grab a bathrobe and walk to the door, ready to throw hands with Sirius at this point. Only… only, when you actually open the door, it’s not Sirius who’s facing your wrath.

It’s Josh.

“What… What are you doing here?” you ask, too stunned to think about being polite. “It’s almost midnight.”

But then he looks up at you, and you notice at once that he’s been drinking. His eyes are glimmering, he sways slightly before finding back his balance…

“Josh…”

“Y/N, I… I know that now is not the time, but… please, give me another chance. Please…”

“Josh, we’ve talked about this. Us… it’s over. We’re not getting back together. I’m sorry.”

“But I can try and be better. I’ll be better, let me show you.”

You push him off when he staggers forward, trying to hold you.

“Josh! Stop it!” you raise your voice, trying to get him to let go.

“Please…”

“I said no! Get off!”

He’s finally letting go, but doesn’t take a step back. Instead, he leans against your doorframe, not stepping inside, but making it impossible for you to simply go back in and close the door.

“Josh! Go away! I’m sorry, but this is over between us. You have to leave me alone!”

“But I don’t want to! Y/N!”

“Hey!”

You’re both distracted by the new voice that comes shouting through the corridor. Sirius is standing before his front door, wearing a Queen t-shirt and some dark sweatpants, in what you guess his is nightly outfit. Still, when he comes nearer, hair tied in a bun, glowering, he looks intimidating, tattoos all over his arms on full display, traces of ink peeking above the collar of his t-shirt.

You think for a second that he’s going to make a scene because of how noisy you are right now, not ironic at all given his habits of messing your sleeping schedule, and you’re ready to get angry at him, because this truly is the last thing you need tonight, when…

“You leave her the fuck alone!”

You’re too stunned to react when Sirius comes to stand right by your side.

“She told you to fuck off, so you fuck off!”

“Who the fuck are you?” Josh replied, words a little slurred.

“Her boyfriend,” Sirius lies, but it works wonders, as Josh becomes suddenly very pale. “Now, you fuck off, or I’ll throw you out of the building.”

“You? With him?” Josh asks as he turns to you, and you feel pity for the pain in his eyes, but you don’t regret leaving him.

“Yeah. He’s my boyfriend. Now, please, Josh… leave me alone.”

But he shakes his head.

“I can’t. I can’t. I still love you…”

Sirius looks at you, but you shake your head.

“You have to leave me alone and move on.”

“No… I… I’ll come back later…”

Sirius notices your worry, it almost looks like fear, and he doesn’t hesitate when he grabs Josh by the collar.

“You listen to me now, dickhead,” Sirius growls, it’s almost animalistic, and you’re frozen by this threatening tone of his. “If you set a foot in this building again, if you go see her at her shop, if you so much as breathe in her direction or step in the street she’s in, I will come for you, and I will make sure you can never bother her again. Do you get that?”

“You’re bluffing.”

Sirius grins, something twisted and terribly dark, and even you shiver when he speaks again, voice low and terrible.

“I fought for the Order during the war. I’m a Black. Trust me, you don’t want to fuck with me.”

Slowly, Josh nods, struggling to swallow.

“So… will you leave her alone?”

Again, Josh nods.

“Good boy. Now get the fuck out of here.”

He’s barely released Josh that he’s sprinting down the stairs, stumbling and catching himself against the wall, before disappearing.

But you don’t see that. You’re staring at Sirius, and seem unable to look away.

“You’re alright?”

You’re startled by the softness Sirius’s voice is now wearing, such a stark contrast with the threatening tone he wore a minute ago.

“Y/N? You’re okay? He didn’t hurt you, right?”

“What? No… no, I’m fine! He just… showed up and I couldn’t get rid of him.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Thank you,” you whisper as he gets closer.

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, just… a little shaken, I think.”

Slowly, Sirius nods.

“Hey, no need to worry, okay? I’ll keep an eye out tonight. He won’t bother you again. And if he does, in the coming days or weeks, and I’m not around, then you come and tell me. I’ll give him a good fright, and he’ll leave you alone.”

“Thanks but… why would you do that for me? You hate me.”

Sirius chuckles at that, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t hate you. You’re annoying, but I don’t hate you.”

“Oh…”

His touch is infinitely gentle when he rests his hand on your arm.

“You can go back to sleep. Don’t worry, he won’t bother you again tonight. I promise.”

Slowly, you nod, a little too stunned to complain or argue or discuss what has just happened. Instead, you walk back to your apartment, lock the door, and go back to bed, thinking about the way Sirius’s hands looked gentle without his rings…

You’re in a hurry this morning. Your brain has not finished to process everything that has happened last night, but this will have to wait. You must rush to the shop, and you can’t find your bloody wand…

Ha! There! What is it doing under the couch? Never mind, you need to hurry, and you need to hurry now!

Only, when you open the front door, you almost trip onto a large black door sleeping on your threshold. A huge black dog, as a matter of fact.

“What in Merlin’s beard…?!”

His ears perk up at the sound of your voice, and he looks up at you with dark grey eyes that remind you of someone…

But it’s impossible, of course. That must be his dog, though. Since when does Sirius has a dog though?!

The animal slowly stands, a real giant, all dark fur and intimidating growls, until he’s shaken some sleep off its frame, and then he looks up at you, as if expecting a command.

“Hi,” you say, feeling foolish, but finding nothing better to say.

The dog merely comes closer, slowly, ears down in submission, as if he’s worried to scare you away. You hold out your hand, and he hurries to rub his snout into it, licking your fingers.

You giggle at the sensation.

“You look intimidating, but you’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

He barks in agreement, and you give him scratches as a reward.

“Who do you belong to, huh? Are you Sirius’s dog?”

The dog merely licks your fingers again.

“You look the part, at least. You fit the motorcycle-and-leather-jackets aesthetic.”

A few scratches more, and you finally remember that you are running late…

“Shoot!”

You lock the door, hurry towards the stairs. But you stop the dog when he tries to follow.

“No, no, no! I’m going to work, you stay here. I’m sure Sirius will be back soon. You stay here.”

The dog blinks, but sits anyway, letting you go.

For the whole trip to the store, you wonder who this dog belongs to, and who would let him sleep outside like this. If he really did belong to Sirius, he would hear about this…

Your day is a weird one.

After arriving almost late, but not quite, you spend your morning being busy and running around the store looking for the right ingredients for various potions and clients. And yet, several times during your shift, you feel someone looking at you.

The first time, it’s Sirius, who’s squinting on the other side of the glass door. He looks away the second your eyes land on him, and you’re almost certain that he blushes, although you didn’t think it to be possible to make Sirius Black blush.

The second time, it’s the black dog again, who remains sitting by the door under the falling snow for about ten minutes before leaving.

The third time, it’s the dog again, you see him being petted by a customer as she walks out of the shop.

But if the dog belongs to Sirius, then you guess that he’s been around several times throughout the day, which seems odd. Also, you want to chastise him for leaving the animal alone in the cold for extended periods of time throughout the day. Is he heartless?!

So, as you go home that night, you leave your coat in your apartment before heading to Sirius’s.

He answers on the second knock.

“Oh! Hi, Y/N!” he grins a welcome at you. “Need anything?”

“Yeah… I wanted to talk to you, if you have a minute.”

He merely nods, moving to let you inside.

You’ve been here a couple of times before, but you still appreciate the warm atmosphere of the large space that forms his living room. A huge Gryffindor flag is hung across the wall on the right, while windows let you see falling snow over the roofs of Diagon Alley on the opposite side of the room. A large chimney surrounded by comfortable armchairs and sofas, along with a soft red carpet seem to call for you.

“So? What can I do for you, Y/N?”

You turn to him again while he points at the sofa, silently inviting you to sit, but you remain standing. You cross your arms, and he frowns at the sight.

“Where’s your dog?”

Your tone is sharper now, and his frown only deepens, brows knitted together.

“My what?”

“Your dog. Huge. Black. Looks like he could bite my throat off.”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“Really? He’s been following me around all day. He was on my threshold this morning…”

“…Y/N…” he tries to interrupt you, but you don’t let him.

“No! Listen… Thank you for what you did last night. I was really… Thank you. Josh wouldn’t leave and you were most definitely helpful. But let’s be clear, I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself! I don’t need your protection or anything, got it?”

You wonder why he’s smiling now, but he is all the same.

“Got it. Was just trying to be helpful.”

“You were.”

“Good.”

“Good. But your good action doesn’t mean that I’m going to accept any harm coming to this cute dog of yours!”

“I thought he wanted to bite your throat off.”

“He looked like he could. He was pretty sweet, though.”

“Hmmm…”

“Anyway… what’s wrong with you!? Leaving him outside all night and then in the street while it was snowing!?”

“Y/N, relax. I don’t have a dog, let me explain.”

“Then whose dog is it? Cause we have to find his owner, I’m going to throw hands!”

Sirius laughs, his usual, bark-like laugh, and your puzzled by the sound. It resembles a bark even more than usual.

Sirius heaves a sigh, shakes his head, apparently hesitating, but eventually, he takes a step closer.

“You have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about this.”

“Why?”

“Because if you do, I might be arrested.”

Your eyes grow round.

Oh dear… the…

“…Potion. The potion! You’ve done something illegal with it!”

Sirius laughs again.

“The pearl dust you mean? It’s just a trick for my godson, for Christmas. How do you think the presents get under the tree without anyone carrying them in? The fellow is a rascal, standing watch all night to catch Santa red-handed. We need to get more and more creative each year. No, don’t worry, it’s nothing like that.”

“Oh… but then… what are you talking about?”

“Do you promise that you won’t tell?”

“Have you killed someone?”

“Of course not!”

“I don’t know, you were pretty… scary last night.”

“Did I scare you?”

“No… but Josh was ready to faint.”

He laughs again at that.

“I haven’t harmed anyone.”

“Okay… then, I promise.”

Sirius hesitates some more, before warning you not to freak out. You don’t have time to question him though, he’s already transforming into…

“… the black dog!”

You gasp at the sight, but you don’t back away when Sirius approaches under his animagus form. Instead, you reach out for him, giving him a few scratches between his ears, making him wiggle his tail happily.

“Oh wow… you’re an animagus! This is beautiful…”

He laughs as he changes back into human, the sound still somewhere close to a growl.

“Am I a good boy, then?” he teases, making you laugh. “No need to call for the animal welfare…”

“But… what were you doing around the shop today? And last night? Did you sleep on the porch?”

Sirius averts his eyes, and you have to double-check, but you’re certain that he is blushing right now.

“Ha, that… I didn’t mean to look like a creep or anything. But I… I was worried your ex would come back. Just wanted to check on you, ‘s all. I didn’t follow you around or anything! I just… went to check that you were alright at the shop a few times.”

“Why?”

He looks up at you with a slight frown, as if it is obvious, as if you’re stupid for not guessing.

“Because… I was worried about you.”

“About me?”

“Is it so surprising?”

“You hate me.”

“Again, I don’t hate you. You’re simply annoying the shit out of me. I like it, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

You blink, trying to make sense of all this, and Sirius looks at you with amusement.

“Is that why you were quiet last night? To not bother me?”

“Oh, the boys weren’t here. Busy week. We’ll be back at being insufferable next Friday.”

You roll your eyes at that, but Sirius laughs.

“I’m joking! I understand, okay? We’re too loud. We’ll keep it down from now on.”

“Right, okay…”

He bit his lip, ran a hand through his hair, in what you guess is shyness. God, you would have never thought to use this adjective to describe him. His rings catch the warm light of the fire burning in the hearth as he moves his fingers through his hair.

“Look, I… I’m sorry for the other night. Actually… for all the other nights. We’ll be more careful next time,” he says, and you raise an eyebrow in surprise.

You never thought you would hear an apology from him, even less so an earnest one, and yet…

“Thank you, Sirius. I’m sorry, too. It was petty and uncalled for.”

“No, you… you were right.”

He heaves a frustrated sigh, runs a hand through his long dark curls again, rebel strands falling before his eyes. You hold tightly onto the sleeve of your hoodie, refraining the sudden urge to push the curls away from his face, brush them behind his ear…

“Look, I… I don’t want us to be on bad terms,” Sirius goes on. “Could I make up for being a dickhead by buying you some fancy Christmas drink? My treat. As a token of good faith and a sign for peace in our building?”

He offers you his open palm, and you shake hands with a smile adorning both of your faces.

“Deal.”

“Any afternoon free this week?”

“Wednesday?”

“Then, I’ll buy you the fanciest cocoa I can find. And even some pumpkin pie, if you’re nice.”

“Sounds good.”

You’re reluctant to pull away but have to let go of his hand.

“Actually… scratch that,” Sirius shakes his head. “Would you go on a date with me?”

Your eyes grow round.

“A date? With you?”

“Yeah. On Wednesday?”

“But… with you?”

“Don’t act so surprised. You really think I play bodyguard for just anybody?”

You laugh at that, you can’t help it, even if you’re still quite stunned by the whole situation.

You weight your options, but then you look at him again, and the answer you want to give is obvious, even if he gets on your nerves all the bloody time…

“Okay. A date. On Wednesday.”

He grins, bright and infectious.

“Great! Awesome!”

“Great.”

“Great.”

You remain staring at each other for a moment, both of you trying to hide your excitement, until you finally clear your throat.

“I should…” you begin, pointing at the door.

“Sure… busy day?”

“You can’t imagine.”

“Hmm…”

You hurry towards the door, feeling overwhelmed by his nearness.

“See you on Wednesday then!” he calls after you as you reach for your own door.

“Sure! But it better be the best hot chocolate I’ve drunk, or I’ll ask for a refund!”

He laughs, and when you turn one last time towards him, Sirius is leaning against his doorframe, staring at you with a grin on his lips and mischief painted all over his features. He winks, and your heart skips several beats.

“Oh, don’t worry. You won’t regret this.”

*********************************

Taglist :

@reg-arcturus-black @hells-escapees @omgrachwrites

@wolfmoonmusic

[thetomorrowshow]

seven

empires superpowers au masterlist (not up to date)

this story takes place about a year after the end of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: light eye horror

~

He’s still new to the whole going-to-work thing. It’s kind of like school, and Jimmy had never liked school, but it’s different in the way that he’s getting paid for his work. And it’s a decent bit more enjoyable than school—he’s learning about cars, getting familiar with the inner workings of machines, and he hasn’t properly had the chance to pop open a hood since he was a teenager and would help his dad with checking the coolant and whatall.

It’s nothing glamorous, but Jimmy really likes his job—more than when he worked as a call service agent, at least. Today he’d learned how to even the weight of a motorcycle, and even though he’d pinched his fingers between the exhaust pipe and the engine, his boss had praised his efforts and let him off early.

Scott usually picks him up from work—they’ve got a second car, but Jimmy doesn’t take his driving test until this weekend so he’s not really meant to be driving himself anywhere—but Scott isn’t free for another hour, so Jimmy meanders around downtown.

He used to live on these streets, so it’s more instinct and less purpose that leads him down to the park across the block from his old apartment building—now closed, he observes, for renovations. The park is lonely at this time of day, two rusting swings hanging silently and a plastic slide gleaming in the sun.

Jimmy stops for a moment, stares at the yellowed grass and bleached plastic playground equipment. He’d never allowed himself to go anywhere near this park, a spot of joy for the kids living in the rundown neighborhood.

He can’t hang here long for risk of being chased off by some bathrobe-clad mother, accusing him of being a predator, so Jimmy turns back to the main part of downtown and heads back in the direction of the mechanic. Maybe Scott’s patrolling in the area, can show off some ice tricks.

There’s a handful of other walkers starting to appear when he makes it back into downtown proper, mostly those returning to work from lunch and high schoolers skipping out of school early. Once upon a time, Jimmy knew how to blend in perfectly with this crowd. Once upon a time, he could never stay in one place for too long.

He slides in among them just as easily as he once might have, moving at the same speed and keeping to the common footpath. He keeps his eyes down and dodges anyone coming from the other direction without issue.

Which is why it’s weird when someone runs right into him.

“Oh, geez—sorry, can I—”

“Well, isn’t it great to see you!”

Jimmy blinks, flinches as the man he’d run into slaps him on the back a couple of times. He . . . he has no clue who this is.

His mind instantly cycles through various brutes from Xornoth’s manor, but this face doesn’t match any of them. This man is a bit stocky, straw-colored hair hanging over his forehead, thin beard a bit darker in color. He’s smiling widely, even as he takes Jimmy by the hand and starts dragging him off.

Jimmy can’t help it—some strange man is pulling him away and he panics—with a snap of adrenaline—

The man jumps back, Jimmy coming with him, as a chair is thrown out of the window of the building beside them, narrowly missing them. He chuckles, taps his nose knowingly.

“You aren’t getting me with that one! Don’t worry, I just want to talk. How about in that deli?”

He doesn’t point anywhere, strangely enough, so Jimmy just glances around until he sees a deli.

All the well-trained alarm systems in Jimmy’s brain are firing, but. . . .

Now that he thinks about it, there is something familiar about this man. Maybe it’s his cadence, or his eyes—

And Jimmy realizes with a start that the man is blind, his eyes clouded over, faded scars stretching across them.

He’s shocked enough that he lets the man lead him into the deli, grab them a table, and order himself a sandwich.

That’s when he notices that the man is not only blind, but has earplugs in.

“I’m sorry,” he finds himself saying loudly as the man tucks into his sandwich, “I think you may have mistaken me with someone else.”

The man winces. “You don’t have to shout, I’m right here,” he says around a mouthful of sandwich. “And no, Tim, I know who you are.”

If that isn’t ominous. And also the wrong name, though it once again scritches at the part of his brain that finds something about this man so oddly familiar. “Jimmy,” he automatically corrects. “Not Tim. And I really ought to get going—”

“Back to Scott?”

Jimmy freezes, halfway out of his seat.

“Because I’m pretty sure he’s patrolling around the East side of the city, y’know. Unless you want to call Lizzie. Pretty sure she’s not busy at the minute.”

The man takes another bite out of his sandwich, scratches his beard.

Jimmy’s stomach goes cold. How did he—how can—it’s—

“See Tim, there’s not a lot that I don’t hear about,” the man continues. “However, there is something that I need to know, if you wouldn’t mind answering.”

He needs to get away. Fight or flight has fully kicked in, and Jimmy needs to run. Jimmy raises his hand, ready to do—something, shatter his chair or collapse the table or hurt him in some way—but the man only tsks.

“Come on then, none of that. The three of us have got to stick together, really. Wouldn’t be good to start fighting, especially with the way Nine acts.”

Slowly, Jimmy sits back down. It’s not because he’s intimidated, he tells himself. His fingers twitch. He could kill this man in an instant, and no one would ever know.

The man puts down his sandwich in its wrapper and leans in, head tilted a bit to the side. “So,” he says lowly, “did you kill them?”

Jimmy knows, instinctively, that he means Xornoth.

And it’s not intimidation that makes Jimmy answer. It’s some strange feeling that he knows this man, and cares about him. Something familiar in the line of his nose and the color of his hair.

“Yeah,” says Jimmy in the same low tone. “Yeah, I did.”

The man sits back, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Good. I figured you did, y’know, but I was sleeping when it happened. You could’ve pulled a runner, y’know? Could’ve been someone else to get them. That wouldn’t have been right, though. It had to be one of their . . . erm, what did they start calling them? Subjects?”

Jimmy swallows, then mutters an answer in the affirmative. He keeps having to remind himself that he doesn’t know this man, as familiar as he is. How does he know so much?

“Right. Back in my day, we were ‘participants’. What a joke.” The man shakes his head, then takes another bite of his sandwich. “Well, thanks for the info. I won’t tell anyone, promise—well, I’ll tell Nine, but Nine isn’t much of a talker, so it won’t get out or anything.”

“Right,” Jimmy manages. He checks his phone; Scott should be coming to pick him up soon. He casts his eyes about, trying to think of anything to say to the strange man with white scars and earplugs.

“What happened to your eyes?” he asks eventually. The man smiles ruefully, one hand going up to trace over the scars. They aren’t precise in any way, some smaller ones littered around the corners, long ones down the middle. If Jimmy looks closely, he can even see the places the irises are entirely missing along with the scar, leaving the man with cloudy white streaks through his eyes.

“Let’s just say—next time those scientists of theirs have you on the table, make sure and ask ‘em to strap down your hands,” the man says. “Not that that should ever happen to you again, but you never know, y’know?”

Well.

Jimmy feels slightly ill, staring at those scars. Most of his aren’t self-inflicted, nor nearly as visible as those. Sure, he has one across his cheek, and a small one above his eyebrow, but they don’t usually attract much attention. Scott even thinks they make him look rather dashing. He can only imagine the stares and questions this man gets on a daily basis.

The stranger finishes his sandwich, wiping his fingers off with the wrapper. He stands, tips an imaginary hat toward Jimmy.

“Well, I’ll be off. The city’s a bit loud, don’t you think? Oh, and thanks for footing the bill.”

And then he’s gone, and Jimmy sits there in stunned silence until he shakes himself, heads up to the counter, and pays.

He tries to forget about the man. As weeks pass, he moves on, his days taken up by work and Scott and his friends. And he mostly does forget about the familiar stranger, too busy to spare the mental energy needed to try and figure out who he was.

That is, until one night, nearly a month later.

Lizzie had managed to get a hold of their high school’s yearbook from when she was a senior and Jimmy a sophomore, and together with Scott and Joel they paged through it, laughing at Lizzie’s galaxy-themed outfit and Jimmy’s unbrushed hair.

They stop on the page of the soccer team, and Jimmy knows from the coos and laughs that they’re looking at him and his ridiculous hair, but his eyes are caught on a familiar face.

“Who’s that?” he finds himself saying, pointing to the boy beside him, the boy who has his arm slung around his shoulders, the boy who—in one small picture off to the side, is knuckling Jimmy’s head.

And then he remembers.

He pages through the yearbook until he finds him.

A senior that year. One of his friends, and one of the only people who tried to still hang out with him after his powers got out of hand.

He’d almost completely forgotten about Martyn.

Martyn, the dude with the new Playstation. He’d been powered—not strongly, but with some fairly average super hearing and far vision.

Jimmy thinks back to the man he’d met, blinded by his own hands, hearing so intense that he has to wear earplugs at all times.

And then he wonders, dreading the unknown answer, what kind of mistakes had been made with the experiments before his own—and who on earth Nine might be.

[kay-elle-cee]

@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 19 || 712 Words || Read on Ao3 —

“Mate, I brought you here to help, not ogle the other bloody mechanics.”

“Keep your fucking voice down, Sirius!” James splutters. “And I am not ogling her!”

James turns his back to where the ogled-mechanic-in-question stands, lovely red hair pulled back and out of her face as she works on a car across the garage. Instead, his focus is on the man—his supposed best friend—within arms’ reach, who's currently hunched over his motorcycle and tinkering away, desperately looking to James like he needs some sort of slap across the head.

“She didn’t hear me. She’s always got earplugs in when she works.”

“Yeah you know, you should probably invest in some of those as well.”

“But I aspire to the day where I don’t have to hear you fretting over me like your mother.”

“Oi, you keep my mother out of this!”

Sirius breaks his concentration to look up, grinning at the fact that he’s hit a nerve. “Why? You think she’d be mortified to know her kind and respectful only son is just openly salivating as he gives the poor girl the glad eye?”

“I am not doing that!”

“You kind of are, though,” a voice—amused and so close—answers from behind him.

Sirius lets out a bark of laughter as James spins on his heel to come face-to-face with the woman in question (the ogled mechanic, not his mother). He doesn’t have to see his reflection to know his cheeks are red with embarrassment even at her clearly-not-offended reaction. 

As a matter of fact, she raises a brow in interest, her sparkling green eyes glued to his even as her head tilts slightly to the side in consideration. 

“Black,” she starts, and the volume is loud enough that James knows with absolute certainty that this is a conversation with Sirius, even if her eyes are still connected with his. “Decide to bring a friend to help you with that mess of a bike of yours?”

James can hear Sirius laugh behind him but he cannot seem to pull himself away from this woman’s gaze. “Help’s a bit of a strong word. He’s my best mate, but dead useless when it comes to auto repair.”

Indignantly, James whips his head around to where his friend sits, this insult apparently enough to break the trance of the ogled mechanic. “Hey! Then why even invite me along?”

He doesn’t miss how Sirius’ eyes flicker quickly between James and the woman behind him, nor how his brow arches as he shrugs his shoulders with a satisfied smirk. This was a set-up. “Honestly, James, I’ve got no clue.”

“Ah, so you’re James.” As he turns back to face the woman, he notices as her eyes look past him to Sirius and a small flush creeps up her neck. Before he can spend too much time deciphering whatever silent conversation the two seem to be having, her eyes are back on him—appraising.

“Er, suppose I am. And that makes you…”

The woman grins, chin raising ever-so-slightly. “Lily Evans.”

“You’re Evans?” James blurts, turning once more to stare wide-eyed at his friend, who’s watching the whole scene playout with amusement. James had heard about nothing but Evans for weeks on end—how she drove Sirius up the wall, how she was admittedly a very skilled mechanic, how she had the absolute gall to correct him (and even worse, in Sirius’ book—had been right). Sirius couldn’t stop talking about how much Evans annoyed him, which meant she was alright in his book. 

After a particularly rough day the previous week, Sirius had recounted how Evans had caught him smoking out back and ripped him a new one. Unfortunately he had done this while pulling out another smoke and receiving a similar lecture from James—which he did not receive well. (“You two are bloody made for each other, Christ!”)

“Suppose I am,” she answers with a smirk. “Well, considering this arse just insulted you, would you mind coming and helping me with something?”

“Oh, I’m not sure—I’m really not—”

She turns on her heel, walking back to her side of the garage with a look over her shoulder that James knows he would follow literally anywhere.

“Relax, James, I just need another set of hands. You won’t break anything, I promise.”

[monstersandmaw]

Oats the kelpie (single dad, dad-bod, absolute softie sweetheart) is now up on Patreon on early release! You can read it right now for $3, or for $5 you can have access to everything pre-2020 mothballing.

Background info post on the Full Moon Motorcycles group here Oats Appreciation post here

Featuring a plus-size, bisexual, not very confident reader, and a divorced, Scottish, single-dad, biker kelpie with a soft-dad bod and a heart as big as his bike’s engine (possibly bigger).

Wordcount: 7562

Preview:

You pushed open the glass door of Full Moon Motorcycles and willed yourself not to feel self-conscious or out of place.

Having both an older brother and a mother who rode motorbikes had at least given you a fair bit of familiarity with bikes and the general ‘biker culture’, but it was mostly the fact that almost all the ‘biker girls’ you saw posing on social media were slim and toned, which you were decidedly not.

From the utterly foetid takes in the comments section of the one post your brother had shared on his page with you in it, you’d also got the impression that the biker community was not particularly kind to any woman with a waist over 25 inches. It probably wasn’t the case, but your one experience with it had been enough to make you very wary.

And yet, as you made your way towards the bike shop’s counter and the older man with floppy, greying hair and warm brown eyes looked up, you were greeted with an open, welcoming smile.

“Hi there,” he said, standing up with a grunt from the comfy chair where he’d been sitting in the corner near the shop’s antique cash register. “What can I do for you?”

You smiled shyly and glanced along the wooden countertop before returning your gaze to him. “I’m looking for a present for my brother, but I’m kind of on a budget…”

“Gotcha. We’ve got some silly key fobs there,” he said, indicating a rotating display rack at one end of the counter, with mottoes that ranged from funny to explicit, “But if they like working on their bike themselves, you can’t go wrong with some maintenance supplies… Not the most glamorous but I promise they’ll be grateful to you all the same.”

“Could always tie a festive ribbon round it,” you said, and he chuckled and nodded.

“That’s the spirit.”

You eyed the reasonable price of the fobs with some relief, and then followed his gesture towards the various bottles of chain degreaser and the like, and a few other useful tools and kits that were stacked on shelves on the back wall to the right of a door that presumably led into the back and store rooms.

The right hand side of the shop had the counter and some shiny, new bikes that had been parked in a row around the perimeter of the space, and the left hand side was more open with a bench or two against the brick walls, and some red, mechanics’ tool-chests tucked against the back wall. A number of leather two- and one-piece suits hung in racks at the furthest end though, with helmets on shelves and a few rows of t-shirts, jeans, gloves, and boots displayed too. There were oil stains in the centre of the polished concrete floor, and you suspected that tinkering took place there outside of the shop’s usual opening hours.

The whole vibe of Full Moon Motorcycles was friendly and cosy, with a slightly industrial, grungy note for some flavour.

In short, you loved it.

“There are also some fun helmet covers –” the older man chuckled, and added, “A number of the regulars here have them, and there are also some earplugs, or perhaps a tough phone case and mount? A chain care kit? There are some vinyl stickers too, and t-shirts, socks, neck warmers, balaclavas, mugs, helmet care kits, thermals…”

Laughing, you held up your hands for him to stop, and he started to chuckle too.

“I’ll let you browse in peace, sweetheart,” he said, his whisky brown eyes twinkling. Even his un-looked-for endearment came across as kindly instead of creepy, and not many men could pull that off. “You just holler if you have questions and I’ll be happy to –”

The door opened behind you and he broke off as his attention was snagged by the arrival of a heavy-set guy in dark jeans and a softly-worn, black leather jacket. He held a black helmet with a tinted visor in his large hands, and he looked more than a little wind-blown and rumpled.

Incongruous with his rather roguish-dishevelment, a lock of his long, thick, slightly grizzled, black hair was held back by a little hair-clip with a Barbie-pink, fabric bow. It didn’t fit with the dark scruff of stubble on his jaw or the piercing green-blue eyes at all, but he seemed completely unfazed by its presence.

“Oats!” the older man exclaimed with obvious joy, clapping his hands. “It’s been a while, my boy! How was the trip to Scotland? You make it round the NC500 this time?”

The ‘boy’ looked to be in his mid to late thirties…

“Ach, no’ a chance this time, Hank,” the man chuckled with a heavy, Scottish accent lacing his rich, rough baritone. Exactly where in Scotland he was from, you couldn’t tell, but it was lyrical and attractive all the same.

“Ah, next time, next time. And is Natalie well?

“Oh aye, my wee Loch Ness Monster is doing just fine. She’ll be terrorising her mother for the Christmas holidays. I came straight from the road though — clutch started playing up just south of Birmingham.” He grimaced, but even that looked charming somehow. “Sort of hoped you might find a minute to take a look at it for me if I left the Old Girl here. No rush though.”

“No problem, Oats. We’ll get her running properly again in no time. Bet you’re missing little Natalie already,” Hank added sympathetically.

“Ah, you have no idea,” the man, peculiarly-named ‘Oats’, sighed ruefully, shaking his head.

“See she left you with a parting gift though,” Hank snorted, pointing at the bow hair clip.

With a slight frown to his dark eyebrows, Oats reached up and patted at his head until he found it, and then he laughed. It was a loud, delighted, full-bellied sound that reverberated through the space while it lasted, and he left the hair clip where it was with no trace of self-consciousness as he lowered his hand again. “Aye, that she did. Surprised it survived the journey down with my lid on and everything. Oh –” His unusually pale green eyes landed on you, watching him and lurking near the rows of t-shirts on the back wall, and he went still.

Those sea-grey eyes raked you up and down, clearly noting the way your black leggings clung to the curves of your thighs and hips, and the black hoodie, which maybe went some way to hiding the softness of your stomach a bit, and he swallowed visibly. He looked… hungry. That was not the usual reaction you had grown accustomed to from men, and you let the flare of heat lick up your insides for just a moment, daring to hope that maybe he did find you attractive.

“Sorry,” he said in your direction, with a soft, dusky smile. “Didnae mean t’interrupt.”

Read the whole thing right now over on Patreon, as well as everything else in my exclusive masterlist, plus February's story involving a holiday romance with a naga in Starfall Springs...

[explorationsoftheid]

Random Thoughts

I wonder if anyone has ever investigated the psychological shield aspect of assistive devices. By that I mean how they help us keep a wall between us and the world. Ok, that’s not clear, so here’s what I mean.

When I wore glasses I didn’t realize quite how much I liked the feeling that the world was out THERE on the other side of the glass and I was in here, seperated from it. Once I went to contact lenses I started wearing sunglasses a lot of the time.

When I’ve worn hearing protectors, there was the obvious reduction in sound, but also the feeling that I had something between me and the noisy world. It was very comforting.

When I rode motorcycles, part of what I liked was the helmet. It was a wall between me and the world. I had it on and the world would be out there, on the other side of the face shield.

What prompted this line of thought was a post to @autistic-af where someone was asking about going outside. They mentioned that they didn’t have any hearing protectors/noise defenders. I took this to mean the nice cushy muff style protectors. I was going to suggest inexpensive (like often less than a buck a pair) foam earplugs. But then it struck me that part of why I liked wearing my hearing protectors at my last job was the feeling of them surrounding my head. The world might have been noisy out there, but I could feel the frame on my hair and I knew it was protecting me. Ear plugs don’t have that. Like a little hug around my head.

What are everyone’s thoughts on this idea?

[autisticwriterblog]

Autistic Remedyverse Headcanons: Jaakko Koskela

Favourite Ways to Stim: Rubbing his hat with his fingers. Rocking himself back and forth when sitting down. Listening to his favourite songs on repeat. When he was a kid, he used to chew on the collar of his shirt, but he replaced that habit by chewing gum all the time. Tinkering with tools in their workshop even when he isn’t building anything.

Hyper- or hyposensitive? Hypersensitive. His hearing is very sensitive, to the point that he wears headphones or earplugs a lot—a technique he learned when his kids were young and he couldn’t always handle how noisy they were. He’s also rather picky when it comes to food, but it’s their textures that bother him, not the taste.

Meltdowns or shutdowns? Shutdowns. He suffers from sensory overload and goes semi-verbal. If he can’t get somewhere quiet, Jaakko will eventually go completely nonverbal and almost totally unresponsive until he feels better.

Special Interest(s): Motorcycles. Get him onto the topic of his motorbike and he’ll infodump for ages about it.

Social Issues: Jaakko has real issues working out when it’s his turn to speak in conversations, either cutting people off or never joining the chat. He struggles with eye contact, finding it very uncomfortable and preferring to never do it.

Communication: He had a speech delay when he was a child, learning to talk about a year later than Ilmo. He goes semi-verbal under stress, finding it very hard to get his words from his brain to his mouth. Because of this, he tries to have Ilmo with him when they meet new people, so his brother can do the talking for both of them.

Canon details that stood out to me: Compared to Ilmo, Jaakko speaks in a flatter tone a lot of the time, and tone is something a lot of autistic people struggle with. He is incredibly awkward most of the time in the Koskela brothers’ commercials, which is what I’m like if I’m forced to read lines.

[thistransient]

How was Ladakh? I heard it's very scenic, I've been meaning to visit.

I've been mulling this over for a while, because this trip to Ladakh was also my first time in India, and thus the two things are a bit intertwined. Also one must take into consideration that most of what I saw outside of Leh, I saw while clinging to the back of a motorbike, often wondering if I was sustaining brain damage. I suspected the natural wonders were twice as awe-inspiring when observed with the knowledge that they could be the last thing I ever saw. If you want to go on two wheels, do get proper gear and think twice about riding pillion.

That said, it really was gorgeous out there.

If you like mountains, it's the place to be. If you like Tibetan Buddhist monasteries, it's also the place to be. I wasn't sure what to expect in regards to human interactions, but on my own in Leh there was basically no hassle from strangers. If anything the hassle was that the tour office the guesthouse recommended did not have anyone going on the route I wanted to take- which was how I ended up on a motorcycle trek with some random guys from the guesthouse to begin with. For the rest of it, they handled everything, for which I'm eternally grateful.

If you get the chance to go, go! I'm glad I went, but if I could go back in time I'd also be better prepared for the elements- despite copious amounts of sunblock eventually I had to accept that I was just going to be sunburnt, cracked, and chapped, with dried out nasal passages. It also gets really cold, even in June. I didn't bring enough warm stuff cause I only had a carry-on and I figured I'd just buy something there (which inevitably I did), but then no one from any airline actually checked my luggage weight at any point, so I kinda wish I'd just brought a whole ass winter coat. Two weeks was also not enough, I stuck around Leh to acclimatise for 4 days (which felt like overkill at first but it was really a good idea), and only ended up seeing Nubra Valley, Pangong Tso, and Alchi Monastery with the guys. I had hoped to also see Tso Moriri and Hanle but was too worn out by the time they left, and spent the rest of my days hanging around Leh feeling rather ill.

All in all, I wasn't really sure what to expect in going, but it exceeded all expectations. I also think if I had not already been on enough terrible roads in various countries in the past, I might have been slightly overwhelmed. If I hadn't been in the company of people who were fond of street dogs (and finally desensitised me), I probably would not have had as good a time because there are a lot of them. They do make quite a racket at night, bring earplugs. In the end though, the pros certainly outweigh the cons (and obviously I survived and came back to tell the tale.) If you're looking for scenic, I give it 11/10, possibly more.

Final note, Indian SIM cards don't work in Ladakh, but the Ladakh SIM card works in India (I'm not sure about Jammu + Kashmir). J+K Bank ATMs did NOT want to dispense me cash with my foreign card (unfortunate because they were the only ones outside the city), but other banks worked fine.

[moonshynecybin]

now that you have experience at a race do you think it would be weird to go alone? i am Considering getting silverstone tickets but i can't really ask anyone to go with me😭 idk you mentioned some weird male fans and keep in mind. i am a 21 year old indian woman. probably not the most common demographic at a motorcycle race in england

it would NOT be weird to go alone i think you’d have a BALL. obviously i can only speak for myself and for cota (who knows what differences silverstone has, esp considering i didn’t go alone and i’m white so it’s a different convo) but i didn’t feel unsafe at ALL and pretty much everyone i met and interacted with in person was really nice ! i WILL say there are maybe a couple of things to be aware of coming in: number one it’s gonna be VERY loud. not just from the motorcycles (though i would bring earplugs just in case, quali was unrelenting) but also just from the shear crush of people. if you don’t do well in crowds just be aware it’s gonna be super crowded etc, especially for the main race… cota had some sensory rooms if ya need, and the grassy spaces helped, but it was genuinely a circus on sunday so be AWARE ! and number two is like. okay it’s a sports crowd. and i am a FIRM believer in the right to be a hater in sports. but that also means (ESPECIALLY with marc marquez #controversialqueen that he is) that the people around you are probablyyyyy going to say something at some point that’s gonna make you suck on your teeth a little bit. bite your tongue etc. so be prepared for that as well ! bitches be stupid ! you just can’t let the stupid bitches get you down !

[the-kr8tor]

OKAY SO I JUST HAD AN IDEA and I don't usually put this kinda stuff out so sorry if its a bit randomly thrown together but IMAGINE. Hobie taking the reader for motorbike rides. Like the wind in their hair, arms wrapped so tightly around Hobies waist but not too tightly because he's built like a twig and their scared they might break him 😭. And like, imagine if (totally not projecting) reader has sensory issues so they need earplugs because they don't like the loud noise the engine makes, and Hobie being so understanding of that, and awahhseisj idk it's just some cute little fluffy hc I thought of 😅

~🌾

Oooooohhh yessss I love motorcycle rides! I love them sm that I've written scenes of it in my thread the needle series!

Awwwee 🥺 I bet he brings a pair of earplugs with him like he'd always have a spare helmet just for you 😍

[keikikait]

ᴡᴀʏ ᴏᴜᴛ (ʙɪᴋᴇʀ!ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

for my other megumi fic, click here (warning - smut!)

pairing: biker!megumi x f!reader (au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 2k

summary: you love your new apartment, as small as it is. it's in the perfect place, right next to the train station, and is cheap as hell. the only downside? your neighbour, who revs his bike outside your window every morning.

warnings: NO SMUT!, no angst!, multi part series, kind of enemies to lovers, slowburn?, megumi is kinda rude lmaoooo, the girls are fighting!, he says sweetheart twice, reader is kinda down bad lmao

a note: sorry for the delay, i've been busy with work! also, 8 square metres is about 86 square feet :).

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

The rent was cheap. Suspiciously cheap. 

You should’ve been wary, but you didn’t have many options. After a bitter fallout with your roommate, you needed to move out quickly. You should’ve paid more attention to the listing, you realise, as you stop in front of the building and it sinks in that your new digs weren’t 18 square metres.

It was eight square metres. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have much furniture with you, needing to sell it all to afford the move. Your apartment was essentially one long, two-story hallway, just enough for your desk chair and TV. 

You get settled in quickly, trying to liven up the place by replanting your herb garden outside on your small porch. The apartment doors faced an alley, and on the other side of the alley was another apartment building. You didn’t know how much sunlight your basil would get, but that’s a problem for future you.

A problem for the current you, however, was your neighbour's motorcycle. The bike is an exact replica of the legendary Honda Super Cub that was used in the original anime Akira, and as pretty as it is, that shit is loud. His apartment is right on the edge by the sidewalk, meaning the only place he can park it is right in front of your window.

You’ve tried everything. Earplugs. Noise-cancelling headphones. Ear plugs under your noise-cancelling headphones. Sleeping with a white noise machine. Nothing works. You only moved in a month ago but you’re already sick of this mysterious man and his bike. You don’t run into each other often, catching glimpses of him as he drives off in the morning and comes home at night. You didn’t want to be that neighbour, the one that complains about every single little thing, but it was driving you mad. He revs his bike so loudly and for so long, that you’re starting to think he’s doing it on purpose.

You wake up that fateful morning and decide you’ve had enough. You wait for him to return home, hyping yourself up in the mirror before heading outside to confront him. You idle nervously in front of his front door for a few seconds before knocking. 

He answers, looking exhausted, his hair a mess from his helmet. “Yeah?” You have to admit, he’s pretty cute. Tall and lean, with bicep muscles that strain against the fabric of his black t-shirt. And you swear you can see some eyeliner smudged on his water line.

You smile, trying to come across as calm and casual, slightly flustered by how attractive he is. “Hey. I’m your new next-door neighbour,” You gesture with your thumb. “I don’t wanna be that person, but would it be possible for you to not rev your engine so loud in the morning? It’s just…it’s right by my window, and it’s really loud.”

He lets out a sigh of frustration, not exactly in the mood for what you're throwing at him. It was already 9 pm on the third day in a row that he had worked the late shift, and this was not something he needed right now. He looks at you, his expression a mixture of irritation and confusion. “Look, I'm not doing it on purpose. I park where I park, nothing is going to change that. You just moved in, this is how it's been and how it's always going to be.”

You blink, a little taken aback by how rude he was being. “I understand that, but surely I'm not the only person in the building who gets inconvenienced by your bike.”

He crosses his arms, his eyes narrowing. The last thing he wants to do after a long shift is argue with someone about something as insignificant as noise. “Look, if you don't like it, then move out. I don't see anybody else complaining. You're the only one.”

You clench your jaw. You had some experience with bikes, your ex-boyfriend being a mechanic. You knew it was possible to make the revving quieter, it just seems like he didn’t care. “Can’t you just buy a muffler silencer?”

He lets out a short, sharp laugh, one that doesn't hold a single trace of humor.  “A muffler silencer? For a Super Cub? Are you serious? That would be like asking a Ferrari to be quiet.”

“You can’t expect everyone to just be okay with how loud your bike is, man.” You say. “I’m sure it inconveniences everyone in the building, but no one wants to be the person that confronts you.”

He seems to be holding back from saying what he wants to say, taking a shallow breath. “Look. It's my bike. I can do whatever I want with it. No one else is bothered, so why should you be any different? Why do you care so much?”

“You’re not the only person who works early mornings.” You say. “You aren’t the only person in the world, you know.”

That strikes a nerve, clearly, but he still doesn't seem interested in hearing what you're saying. He just rolls his eyes, looking away at his bike for a moment before looking back at you. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but in case you haven't realised, you're not that important.”

“Neither are you.” You say impulsively. It was mean, and you didn’t like being mean, but he wasn’t giving you any other option.

He glares at you, his expression darkening. It's only for a moment, but you can see there is actual vitriol in his eyes. “Look, I'm going to make this simple for you. If you don't like the noise, then move out. That bike is not going anywhere. It has more meaning to me than you'll ever understand.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Akira meant so much to you as a kid,” You say sarcastically. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t keep doing this, man. Buy a muffler silencer.” 

He laughs, but there's a slight tinge of bitterness to it. “Oh, so it's just a cartoon to you? It’s not an influential masterpiece that changed motorcycle and animation culture forever? Okay, great. Good to know.” He is starting to get worked up, but then he shakes his head, trying to regain his composure. “Look, like I said, I am not doing anything to this bike. Not the mufflers, nothing.”

“Then park it somewhere else.” You snap. “Keep it away from my window. I don’t want to hear that shit.”

There's a flash of annoyance on his face. “There's no place to park it away from your window unless I block the sidewalk, which I guarantee you would cause more inconvenience. You're just going to have to deal with it.”

“Are you always this rude and stuck up?” The question stumbles out of your mouth before your mind can process it.

His temper flares up. He takes a step towards you, putting his hands on his hips as he glares at you. “Are you always this entitled and self-absorbed?”

You take a step back. You hate to admit it, but the way he towers over you is arousing. His cologne fills your nostrils and you find yourself getting lightheaded. It was slightly spicy, with a hint of vanilla and coffee. 

You ground yourself, swallowing hard. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. I just want us to come to a reasonable compromise.”

He glares at you, his eyes boring into you as you step back. You can feel the heat on your skin as if every drop of sweat in his body has been activated by the situation. His cologne is overwhelming you, filling your whole body. “There is no compromise to make here. You don't like the noise, tough. You're just going to have to get used to it or move out. That's it.”

Your eye twitches. “You’re such an asshole.” At this point, you didn’t feel bad being mean to him. He kind of deserved it.

He laughs, seeming almost amused by your temper. “You're one to talk. You come barging up to my apartment, demanding I make changes to my bike, and then you get mad at me when I tell you not to waste your time. Look in the mirror, sweetheart, and then come back with the right to tell me I'm an asshole.”

Fuck. You shouldn’t like the way he says sweetheart, but it causes your throat to dry up. “I tried to be nice to you,” You say. “You’re the one that got defensive and rude.”

“Nice? Maybe in your little dreamland that's what you think you were doing. Maybe you even believe that you were just being friendly and reasonable, I don't know. But in reality, all you were doing was pissing me off and acting like some sort of entitled princess.” He takes a step closer to you, his finger pointed in your face. “But one thing is certain. I’m not changing anything about my bike just to make you happy.”

He’s so close to you that it makes your head spin. You step back again, leaning against the railing surrounding his small porch. “Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t blame me for being upset.”

He doesn't seem interested in letting you off the hook yet, not when he looks so close to snapping. “It doesn't matter if you're upset or not. You don't get what you want by coming here and giving me an attitude like a fucking brat.”

You swallow hard. Fuck. You shouldn’t be attracted to this man, he was rude as hell and didn’t seem to care that he was inconveniencing not only you but everyone in the building. But you couldn’t help yourself. He was so pretty, and he smelled so good, and his voice was so nice. You were going to have to change your panties when you got back home. 

You stand up straight, trying to stay headstrong. “You’re being incredibly rude about this.”

“And you're being incredibly entitled. There's only one of us that needs to change here, and it's not me.” He narrows his eyes, his gaze still burning into you.

You lick your lips. “Look, we’re not going to get anywhere by arguing.”

He gives another one of those short, sharp laughs. He smiles, and it makes your stomach flip. “You finally said something smart. I didn’t know it was so difficult for you. Now, are you ready to accept that you're not going to get what you want, or do you want to keep wasting my time?”

Your eyes narrow. What the fuck? “Excuse me? Did you just call me dumb?”

A smirk spreads across his lips. “You heard me. Or did you need me to repeat it for you?”

You let out a sharp laugh, moving off of his porch. “You know what? Fuck you.”

He raises his eyebrow, a faint smile on his lips. “Oh, so you've switched from demanding to insults? Real mature, aren't you?”

You head over to your apartment, laughing again. “I should’ve known trying to reason with you would be impossible.” 

He calls after you. “You're damn right it's impossible. You come here, make some demands, and then get mad when I tell you no. You're a spoiled brat who always gets her way, aren't you? Well, today's a bad day for you, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck you.” You say, holding the door to your apartment open. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I’m not sure I want to.” He says, smirking slightly. “I’m not into brats like you. I think you need to be taken down a few pegs. You need someone to put you in your place.”

You scoff and flip him off before slamming the door behind you, and just like that, you have given up. 

He leans against his door, crossing his arms and smiling as he watches you leave, his eyes on your ass. He’s just a tiny bit disappointed that you gave up so quickly. He's got to admit, it was pretty fun messing with you, watching how angry you get. He thought you looked cute like that, your cheeks all red and flustered.

Maybe next time…

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part two is here

dedicated to the lovely @whereflowerswenttodie

[archivist-crow]

On this day:

BIKERS AND PHANTOM HITCHHIKERS

On April 4, 1980, in Cape Province, South Africa, Andre Coetzee felt someone climb behind him while he was driving his motorcycle. Panicking, Coetzee acceler-ated. The ghost rapped him on the helmet three times. Only after Andre reached 160 kph (99 mph) did the unseen passenger depart. Stopping at a café, Coetzee could hardly speak. He later learned he was at least the third person to experience the phantom hitchhiker.

In April 1978, army biker Corporal Dawie van Jaarsveld was driving along the road near De Rust. He offered a young woman hitchhiker a ride to the nearby town of Uniondale. Her reply was mumbled and couldn't be heard through his crash helmet. She climbed on the bike, and he gave her a spare helmet to wear and a transistor radio earpiece so that she could listen to the radio. Ten miles later, his bike's rear wheel skidded, and Dawie pulled over to check the tire. Astonishingly, his passenger was gone, the extra helmet was strapped to the seat and the spare earplug had somehow been placed in his own ear, inside the helmet he was wearing! He commented, "I can tell you, the moment I realized these things I could feel the hair stand on end on my head and I had cold shivers up and down my spine."

In March 1976, Anton Le Grange picked up the phantom female in his car. He got a policeman to go to his car with him, and they watched as the door opened and closed itself. On hearing the news, a pilot came forward. His fiancée, Maria Rouz, had died in April 1968 on the very spot where the phantom was picked up. Le Grange, looking at Rouz's photograph, identified her as his phantom hitchhiker. When he described the clothes the hitchhiker was wearing, they turned out to be the same outfit Rouz had been wearing when she died.

Text from: Almanac of the Infamous, the Incredible, and the Ignored by Juanita Rose Violins, published by Weiser Books, 2009

[xylomilo]

Elemental Masters Headcanons

Part 1 because there’s 15 of them and I’m not fitting them in one post 💀💀 Also sorry I haven’t been posting, my english teacher has been kicking my ass with a shit ton of work. Anyways, if u want more headcanons just send an ask lol

Acronix

- He/They

- Gay

- Filipino

- Hates his dad

- Uncle to Griffin Turner (Lego Dimensions refrence mwehehehehe)

- Accidental rizz

- Markings from the time vortex

- Pinning for Cyrus Borg

- Listens to pop, hyper pop, and any energetic music

- Dare I say…… Ayesha Erotica and Cupcakke fan.

- Probably hacked his phone to get spotify premium without paying

- Collects anything he sees- crow

- ADHD

Ash

- He/Him but doesn’t mind any

- Panromantic Asexual

- Carries cigarettes but doesn’t smoke

- High pain tolerance

- Black and British

- Selective mute

- Has a few burn marks on his arms from when he was younger

- Hates loud noises and people so he wears earplugs

- Seeing Smoke from MK: He just like me fr !!!!

- Listens to slightly unsettling but banger songs like Puppet Boy and YKWIM? Idk what that genre is called 😭😭

- Motorcycle racer- “Smokescreen”

Bolobo

- They/He

- Demisexual Panromantic

- Polyamory relationship with Gravis and Jacob Pevsner (EarthShipping)

- Can withstand poison/venoms from plants to an extent

- Cottagecore

- Hearing aids

- Brad Tudabones maternal uncle but unaware of it

- Wears their hair in a braid

- Has a garden of plants they made from scratch/by not using their powers

- Works as a popular florist and gardener on the side

- …lives in their shop lmao

Chamille

- GENDERFLUID 🫵🫵

- Any pronouns

- Lesbian

- Dating Tox (FoxgloveShipping)

- Most aggressive fighter

- Italian and Scottish

- Best friends with Shade

- Former golden child, misbehaves/does crimes in order to take control of her life

- Scene kid, definitely an Odetari fan

- Criminal on the run

- Blackmailer on the dark web

Gravis

- He/Him but doesn’t mind any

- Asexual Biromantic

- Indian

- Polyamory relationship with Bolobo and Jacob Pevsner (EarthShipping)

- Disabled; has joint pain and needs to use a wheelchair when outside his house, otherwise he uses crutches

- Somewhat picky eater

- Bites his nails when nervous

- Smart but also really dumb

- Tired 24/7

- Doesn’t like fighting and is more of a support character cuz yk joint pain

- Unknown job- no one knows how he gets money 😭😭 (he actually just has a shit ton of inheritance money)

[lesbi-nyan]

the traffic outsids is so loud my earplugs barely make a difference most days DDDX i just want to sleep but instead there's construction trucks going by at 5am and super loud motorcycles. by the 6am its just full on traffic noise. by 7am is totally hopeless trying to bother to fall back asleep ~nya

[akesdraws-blog]

Headcannons TMNT 2007

💙 Leonardo 💙

• When he returned to the city, he himself disliked the smell of the sewers a little. -Was that smell always there?- -It's a sewer, what did you expect it to smell like?-

• He was like an old man with technology • Constantly referred to controllers, cameras, phones, and everything else that was technological as "Thing." -Can you pass me the thing to change the channel?- -Man, are you talking about the remote control?- -Yes that thing-

• It was difficult for him to sleep again in his room because of the sounds of the subway that woke him up almost all the time. • For a while he had to sleep with earplugs. • He scared his brothers at dawn because now his footsteps were much quieter than before. • Sometimes his brothers found him asleep on some pipes in the ceiling. -Did you fall asleep on the roof again?- -It's the custom, it reminds me of trees- -I'll get you a branch if you want, child of the jungle-

♥️ Raph ♥️

• You still need the noise of the subway to be able to sleep. • The thugs of the city are sometimes visited by the “nightwatcher” and the “ghost of the jungle”. • Raph and Leo race when they're going somewhere, it's not even planned, it just happens at any moment. • Raph had a beer together with Casey, and they both came home a bit drunk. -Raph, where were you?- -Sssh~, don't tell Leo to drink with Casey- -I'm a leo- -I'm not drunk-

• he wakes up at dawn to go to Leo's room, to make sure that he really is home and that it wasn't all just a dream. • She really likes to go out on his motorcycle. • He is in meditation training with Splinter to control his anger. -Relax your mind, how do you feel Raphael?- -💤💤- -At least he's relaxed-

• he Now he also supports at home, working as a postal worker. (He obviously disguises himself) • He sleeps longer, but he still gets up at night out of habit.

🧡Michelangelo 🧡

• he Quit his job being “carl cowabunga”, but now he is an online party planner. • Donnie helped create his page for hosting fun parties. • Still has nightmares about children's birthday parties. • He hugs his brothers a lot. (Even though Raph is a bit annoyed / he actually likes Raph but he plays tough). • he still urges donnie to build a rocket pack. • When he found out that Raph was the “nightwatcher”, he peppered him with questions. -So your motorcycle doesn't fly and you don't have a rocket pack?- -I don't even know how that rumor started- -Man, I feel cheated!- -Don't believe everything they say on the streets-

• When on the Internet he found a “nightwatcher” fan forum he joined and presumed that he has an autograph from the vigilante. • He is proud to say that the vigilante is his brother. (But Raph forbade him to divulge it)

💜 Donatello 💜

• Thanks to Abril he now works correcting company codes and algorithms. • he is grateful to have resigned from his tech support job. • On more than one occasion Leo scared him at dawn by mistake. -Who the hell would think of using this type of code?- -And is it something bad?- -DAMN IT, LEO! YOU ALMOST CAUSED ME A HEART FACT!- -I was just going to meditate a bit- -At 4 in the morning?!-

• He does medical tests on each of his brothers and Splinter, it is still a mystery why Splinter's cholesterol is still a little high. • He is in charge of managing the household money. • Once a week everyone makes a shopping list, and Donnie is in charge of discarding what is unnecessary. -Please donnie! I need my soda reserves!!- -Mikey, your sugar levels have risen a lot, soda is out for a while- -NOOOO-

• He doesn't know that Raph was the “nightwatcher”, so sometimes when he comes out in conversation he expresses his dislike of him without a problem. • Since the last accident with Leo, each of his brothers has a tracker on their weapons and some hidden objects. ° Mikey has one on his skateboard. ° Raph has one on his motorcycle. ° Leo has one on his belt. ° His brothers put one in his headphones.

• After his fight with the "Stone Generals" he started to read more books of legends and mythological beings, he would be ready if they face a new legendary villain or monster.

🐢✨🐢✨🐢✨🐢✨🐢✨🐢✨🐢✨🐢

I love the 2007 turtle movie because besides the 2003 series it was the second thing that introduced me to the world of TMNT and to this day it remains one of my favorite ninja turtle movies. 💖✨🐢

What version or how did you enter the world of ninja turtles?

Tags: @post-apocalyptic-daydream . @turtle-babe83 . @turtlesmakemehappy . @dilucsflame33 . @thelaundrybitch . @scholastic-dragon . @leosgirl82 . @tmnt-tychou . @mackbunny . @happymoonangel .