#glee moments i will still be thinking about at 60

[othergaywarbler]

Sooooo close to the 3rd anniversary of “glee moments i will still be thinking about at 60” I’m so sad it won’t hit 5M before then but also cannot comprehend that it’s at 4.2M?????????? Like huh???? The way gleeks have claimed a compilation I made to kill an evening of lockdown while I was rewatching the show for the third time EVER is insane to me considering where I am now in gleekdom

[seriousbrat]

minor death eaters active during the first wizarding war

I've created a list of my interpretations of the Death Eaters who we know participated in the First Wizarding War, specifically the ones we don’t have much canon info about because they’re very minor characters. For this reason I won’t include: Bellatrix, Lucius, Snape, Peter, Regulus, and Barty Crouch jr. (Reg and Barty are arguably minor but there’s soooo much meta on them, I can’t be fucked to add to it tbh lol)

This is loosely organised by rank or relevance to the story, which may be somewhat subjective. With each Death Eater I’ll start with what we do know or can infer from canon, then add my own personal headcanon and interpretations for each character— but I’ll still try to explain how these are based in canon. If you interpret them differently that's obviously fine haha, that's why it's an interpretation.

Quick note about Bellatrix and Lucius: I think it’s telling that they were both entrusted with Horcruxes, this points to them being very highly ranked among Death Eaters during the first war. So if they were included in this list they’d be at the top over Travers and Dolohov, for the record. I’ve also written about the fact that I think Bellatrix’s rank was unusual among female Death Eaters here.

DEATH EATER LIST -----------------------------------------

(If a first name is small and unbolded, it’s the name I’ve given them and not canon.)

JAGO TRAVERS:

I think since I just ended up liking his character, I’ve given Travers more importance than he may have actually had haha, but it is true that he addresses Bellatrix (or Hermione as Bellatrix) with familiarity and fearlessness, as an equal rather than a subordinate. He's even affronted when Hermione is rude to him, suggesting that this isn’t their typical dynamic— interesting since Bellatrix usually has no qualms being rude and impatient with other DEs.

We know he was responsible for the murders of the McKinnon family. Karkaroff names him as an important Death Eater, and he was sent to Azkaban at the end of the war.

My version of Travers is first and foremost a pragmatist. In canon he comes across as more composed, more rational than other Death Eaters. He has a "cool" "sharp" voice, he's much less emotional and more practical than Selwyn at the Lovegood house, and he displays moments of ironic, callous humour with 'Bellatrix.'

The way I see him he’s strategically-minded, cold, calculating, and intelligent; and unlike the sadistic Mulciber or self-interested Lucius, he is all about the mission, which he puts strictly before his own personal pleasure or status. He’s not motivated by passion like Bellatrix either, he simply believes Voldemort’s way is the correct way and seeks the most efficient way to achieve it.

This quality is what leads to his advancement in the ranks and makes him a very competent general. However, this also causes a rift among the higher-ranking Death Eaters; Travers and Rosier believe in a straightforward, warlike approach, whereas Lucius and Mulciber are more partial to subtlety and manipulation.

ANTONIN DOLOHOV:

Dolohov was among those sent to Azkaban after the end of the first war, a loyal supporter who didn't renounce Voldemort. Karkaroff tells the Wizengamot that he witnessed Dolohov torturing “countless Muggles and non-supporters” of Voldemort. He was involved in the murders of the Prewett brothers, along with four other Death Eaters. He's the first name given by Karkaroff.

A Dolohov is among the original Death Eaters mentioned as waiting in Hogsmeade when Voldemort interviews for the DADA post, I think it’s probable that this is the same Dolohov, so he was already serving Voldemort around the late 60s to early 70s.

His “twisted face,” proclivity for torture, glee after hurting Hermione, and particular hatred of Muggles all point to me towards a sadist who is nevertheless intelligent and competent.

‘Dolohov’ is a Russian name and it’s likely he was named after the character Dolokhov from War and Peace— which I’ve never read, but from some brief research, Tolstoy’s Dolokhov delights in causing misery in others, is clever, competent, ruthless, but reckless. I think this fits pretty well if we extrapolate these traits to Antonin Dolohov.

“…the very process of dominating another’s will was in itself a pleasure, a habit, and a necessity to Dolokhov.”

The way I’ve used Dolohov is that he’s responsible for bringing in supporters from abroad, one of these being Igor Karkaroff— in W&P Dolokhov manipulates young men into joining his gambling circle, so I see this as a fitting role for Antonin Dolohov, who I think was of Russian ancestry but born in Britain, though still able to use his connections abroad. Despite Dolohov’s sadistic nature, I also see him as strategic, pragmatic, and dedicated, and so he falls more into Travers’s camp than Lucius’s.

EVAN ROSIER:

Evan Rosier is among the younger generation of Death Eaters, because he’s mentioned by Sirius as having gone to school with Snape. However this could make him either closer to Bellatrix/Lucius in age, or closer to Snape/Avery/Mulciber. There’s also a Rosier who was one of the original Death Eaters (I’ll talk about him below) and it’s possible that this is Evan’s father. The Rosiers are part of the Sacred Twenty-eight.

As for Evan himself, he’s the second name given by Karkaroff as an “important Death Eater.” We also know that Evan Rosier “preferred to fight rather than coming quietly,” and managed to blast a chunk of Moody’s nose off in the struggle before being killed.

Building from the fact that he fought to the death rather than being imprisoned, managing to permanently injure Moody, my version of Rosier is a proud, skilled, merciless fighter. He has a single-minded commitment to his cause— the supremacy of pureblood wizards. He will stop at nothing to achieve this and is fiercely loyal to the Death Eater cause and Lord Voldemort, even over himself. He is traditionalist and reserved, but violent and remorseless.

Being that Karkaroff names him as important, I think he rose quickly through the ranks after leaving school because of his skill and dedication. His impatience with what he sees as “frivolity and mind games,” as well as his preference for straightforward violence and direct action put him at odds with Lucius Malfoy, and in allegiance with Travers.

EVELYN MULCIBER (MULCIBER JR.):

My personal favourite Death Eater after Snape, though for very different reasons lol. We know he went to school with and was friends with Snape and Avery. Curiously he’s not named by Sirius in GoF, but I think this can just be put down to Sirius listing names as they occur to him rather than being wholly accurate. Mulciber and Avery’s sense of humour is described by Lily as ‘evil,’ and she describes Mulciber himself as ‘creepy.’ He attacked Gryffindor Mary MacDonald with unknown dark magic, for “a laugh,” according to Sev.

Personally, I think this is implied to be an attempted Imperius Curse, since Karkaroff tells the Wizengamot that the Imperius Curse was Mulciber’s speciality and that he “forced countless people to do horrific things.” Mulciber is sent to Azkaban at the end of the war.

From this we can conclude that he was either notorious enough not to be given the benefit of the doubt like Avery, or that he was loyal enough to not renounce Voldemort. We also have my favourite quote of all time— jkr said in an interview that Snape “wanted Lily, but he also wanted Mulciber.”

The Mulcibers are not part of the Sacred Twenty-eight, but as I’ve said previously, there could be various explanations for this. A Mulciber is part of Voldemort’s original Death Eaters, this is possibly Mulciber jr.’s father.

I think it’s pretty easy to deduce that Mulciber was sadistic and manipulative. I’ve written a lot about my interpretation of Mulciber on here— I see him as a narcissist, an opportunist, very skilled at identifying potential assets and manipulating people to his advantage. I think that Mulciber spotted Snape’s ability and put considerable effort into securing his friendship and loyalty, positioning himself as a sympathetic, understanding figure that Snape would admire and want to be friends with. The Imperius is just a literal form of manipulation, so the fact that this is Mulciber’s speciality leads me to think that he himself was a natural manipulator. He sees people as tools but is nevertheless very adept at preying on their desires and insecurities, he’s clever and has well-developed social skills.

His proclivity for the Imperius was no doubt incredibly useful for the Death Eaters, which is why he was given importance despite his youth, and he would have been more aligned with Lucius’s subtle, diplomatic approach rather than Travers and Rosier.

PRESTON AVERY (AVERY JR.)

My other detestable fave. Along with Mulciber, we know that Avery was friends with Snape in school, and that his sense of humour was ‘evil.’ There are a few things that distinguish Avery from Mulciber: for instance Mulciber was the instigator of the attack on Mary, not Avery, and also Avery escaped Azkaban by saying he was under the Imperius curse and did not attempt to seek Voldemort out.

In the graveyard, Avery flings himself at Voldemort’s feet and begs his forgiveness, specifically in a ‘shriek,’ before Voldemort tortures him. In OotP Avery gives Voldemort incorrect information about the prophecy in the Dept. of Mysteries, and is tortured for this mistake. Haha poor Avery never catches a break (he deserves it tho.)

An Avery is mentioned as being part of Riddle's gang in Slughorn's memory, this is possibly Avery's father. Karkaroff does not name him, meaning he was either unimportant or unknown to Karkaroff, or both.

Sirius says that Avery ‘wormed’ his way out of Azkaban, and given that Sirius knew him at school I think this is indicative of Avery’s character, as is his shrieking and flinging for Voldemort’s forgiveness. So in my mind he’s sly, devious, and self-serving, since unlike his fellows Mulciber and Rosier, he isn’t willing to die or be sent to Azkaban for Voldemort.

It's unclear why he would have told Voldemort that Bode could steal the prophecy-- perhaps he worked for the Ministry after the war.

I’ve leant quite heavily into the ‘evil sense of humour’ for Avery, and given him a very twisted, specifically misogynistic humour, as this is common in teenage boys (and I think it's a vague possibility that Mary’s attack might have been sexual in nature.) For Lily to mention him, Avery had to have pulled his own weight in the evil sense of humour department.

There’s a pathetic element to him too, he’s not quite as clever nor talented as Mulciber and Snape, though still conniving enough to avoid Azkaban. His begging for forgiveness in the graveyard suggests to me that he thought speaking up would be a strategic way to avoid Voldemort’s displeasure, and he was sadly mistaken. I think his claiming Bode could remove the prophecy was a similar, and similarly misjudged, attempt to gain favour.

AUGUSTUS ROOKWOOD

I actually think Rookwood should go above Avery, but Avery in my heart is a more relevant character, so there you are. But Rookwood is named by Karkaroff, right after Travers and Mulciber, and we know he was a spy based in the Department of Mysteries, a fact which was unknown to the Ministry until Karkaroff’s trial.

Ludo Bagman also describes “old Rookwood” as a friend of his dad’s, meaning he was probably an older gent, and Bagman also says “Rookwood kept talking about getting me a job in the Ministry later on.”

According to Karkaroff, Rookwood had a network of informants inside the Ministry and out— since we know one of these was the unwitting Bagman, it’s likely other informants were also unaware of what they were doing. Rookwood uses the promise of a Ministry job to wheedle info from Bagman, meaning he was presumably well-placed enough in the Ministry to be able to offer a job, and also clever and conniving enough to know how to manipulate people into giving him intel. (tbf Bagman was probably an easy mark, but Rookwood was able to spot that.)

Since Rookwood’s identity was unknown for so long and only given up by Karkaroff post-war, I think it’s safe to assume he was very competent as a spy, intelligent and careful. It’s likely that not many Death Eaters knew about him (as Karkaroff states, many of them didn’t know about each other) and I doubt the Order would have, either. It probably was just bad luck for Rookwood that Karkaroff somehow did find out at some point, since I think it’s most likely that Snape didn’t know— or else Dumbledore and the Wizengamot would have already been aware.

This for me means I can’t really include him much in my fic in anything other than hints and cameos. Since Bagman and his father both like him, I think his outward persona at least was probably charming and friendly. In his mugshot he's leaning against the frame and looking bored, which I think is indicative of his true personality: ruthless, cold, indifferent. The charming persona is a carefully and cleverly constructed mask.

RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE

The reason Rodolphus and his brother aren’t higher up is that I don’t think they were as nearly as important/relevant as Bellatrix. Outside of the Pensieve trial they’re barely ever mentioned, they’re present at a few battles but never given any protagonism. Tellingly, Bellatrix herself doesn’t mention or interact with her husband once. We know he was ‘tall and thickset,’ that he and his brother participated in the torture of the Longbottoms, and were among Voldemort’s loyal supporters who didn’t renounce him after the war.

A Lestrange is in Riddle's group at school- this is either the father/other relative of Rabastan and Rodolphus, since Sirius implying Rodolphus was in school with Bellatrix means it can't be Rodolphus himself.

My view of Rodolphus is that he followed his wife’s lead, as she was the dominant partner. I don’t think he was clever or talented or ambitious enough to distinguish himself as a leader in his own right, and that he was primarily useful to Bellatrix for his wealth and pureblood name. In my opinion Bellatrix didn’t really like her husband, in fact she almost just tolerated him while having affairs not only with Voldemort but other men (when Voldemort didn’t pay her attention) and Rodolphus was largely oblivious to this lol. The Lestrange brothers were decently ranked, but this is owing more to their wealth and pureblood name (and association with Bellatrix) rather than their ability.  

RABASTAN LESTRANGE

A lot of what I’ve said for Rodolphus goes for Rabastan, but I'll add a few things. First is that I think Rabastan provides an explanation for why Sirius names Bellatrix and Rodolphus as part of Snape’s group in school, even though this is unlikely given their ages. Rabastan was almost certainly the younger brother since Bellatrix would have married the Lestrange heir, he’s described as thinner and more nervous than his brother in the Pensieve, which also fits with him being younger.

So, my theory is that Sirius was just describing a specific ‘group of Slytherins’ as a whole throughout the years, and that there was some overlap and changing of members as people entered the school or graduated from it. Bellatrix was perhaps the leader of that group when she was at school, which would have included the younger Rabastan— then, if either Mulciber or Avery were slightly older than Sev, they’d have potentially been in Bellatrix’s group but almost certainly in Rabastan’s.

About Rabastan himself, the description of him being thin and his “eyes darting around the room” make me think he's slyer and more unassuming than his brother, easily overshadowed by Rodolphus and certainly Bellatrix. There’s something more calculating about him too, but his subservience to his brother and sister-in-law means he stays somewhat in the background.

WALDEN MACNAIR

We’re introduced to Macnair as an executioner working in the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures— however, it’s mentioned in the graveyard that Macnair wasn’t doing this job during the first war, and Voldemort then offers him “better victims.” It’s possible to interpret that Macnair was younger, since he wasn’t yet established in his career during the first war. This isn’t necessarily the case but Macnair is also described as muscular in PoA which gives the impression of a younger, fitter man.

Macnair is one of the Death Eaters who was sent to liaise with the giants. He didn’t search for Voldemort after the downfall, and the other thing to note is that Macnair is genuinely frustrated about not being able to execute Buckbeak.

So I think we can infer that Macnair is violent and bloodthirsty, with a particular penchant for cruelty towards animals/magical creatures. A connection can be made between Macnair being an animal executioner and the fact that he was sent to the giants. Personally I’ve used Macnair in a similar way, involving him in the recruitment of Fenrir Greyback and other werewolves.

The fact he uses an axe instead of magic to execute Buckbeak is odd; either this is a very outdated, inhumane practice of the Committee itself, or Macnair's choice because idk he just loves violence. I tend to think it's the first, though I'm sure Macnair has no complaints about it.

I’ve characterised Macnair as being generally smooth and swaggering, kind of debonair and very full of himself, literally just because of his muscles and moustache lol. But he has a cruel sense of humour, liking for violence and deep disdain for non-humans especially but also Muggles and Muggleborns.

FULGENCE NOTT

Not(t) much is known about Theodore Nott’s father, who is described as a ‘stooped man,’ and this plus his single line of dialogue (‘My Lord, I prostrate myself before you, I am your most faithful –’) paint a picture of a sycophantic, obsequious, pretentious but fairly pathetic man haha. He was likely decently ranked, like the Lestrange brothers, due to his family name. He escaped Azkaban.

Not only are the Notts part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, their ancestor Cantakerus Nott is also believed to be the author of that list. We also know that Nott Sr. was friendly with Slughorn and an old favourite of his, and that he’s a widower, having lost his wife when Theodore was young (this is probably supposed to be the death that Theodore witnessed.)

A Nott is also one of the Death Eaters waiting for Voldemort during his interview with Dumbledore, and in this case it’s likely the same Nott, meaning he was already serving Voldemort by the early 70s.

I don’t have much to add about Nott, his being an old favourite of Slughorn fits with his sycophantic personality, and with the idea that he was in Voldemort’s gang at school and part of the original Death Eaters. I've given him the unfortunate name Fulgence because he's so pathetic in such a pretentious way lol.

CORBAN YAXLEY:

I don’t think Yaxley was particularly high-ranking until around DH, when the power vacuum left by Lucius’s fall from grace provided him an opportunity. Snape names Yaxley in HBP as one of the Death Eaters who avoided Azkaban and never attempted to seek Voldemort out, and he wasn’t at the battle of the Dept. of Mysteries, but he was arrested at Hogwarts after Dumbledore’s death.

He has a 'heavy, brutal face' and 'blunt' features which I think gives a clue to his personality, but of the DEs in the Astronomy Tower he also seems to be the most sensible and focused on the mission. He also comes across as confident and self-assured when he speaks at Malfoy Manor in DH, while 'determined' to gain Voldemort's approval.

In the Astronomy Tower, he appears to be the senior Death Eater as he gives Greyback orders— however, I think it’s worth noting that the Death Eaters present on the Astronomy tower (except Snape) were not high-ranking in general. I think this is purposeful; Voldemort sent in expendable soldiers whose job it was to keep the Order busy while Draco or Snape assassinated Dumbledore, and it's also true that many high-ranking DEs were arrested at the Ministry at the end of OotP.

So, I think during the first war Yaxley was really a foot soldier, though one of the more competent ones. I think he was probably ambitious and sought to rise in the ranks, but it was the fact that he was lower-profile than someone like Mulciber or Bellatrix that allowed him to get close enough to Thicknesse to Imperiuse him in DH, then later become Head of Magical Law Enforcement.

Because of her notoriety the general public might have had a harder time accepting Bellatrix in that post, but since Yaxley was a relative unknown he was a good choice, even more so because he proved himself by Imperiusing Thicknesse. I think the same mostly holds true of the Carrows teaching at Hogwarts but I’ll get to that.

IGOR KARKAROFF

I almost didn’t include Karkaroff in this list because we do see quite a lot of him as a character, but I think there are a few things worth pointing out. First is that Karkaroff flees when the Dark Mark burns in GoF, and he gives up fellow Death Eaters to avoid Azkaban— inherently he is cowardly and disloyal, and also not wise enough to realise that he would certainly be tracked down in the end.

Second is the fact that Karkaroff is foreign. In DH before the Gringotts break-in, Travers treats ‘Dragomir Despard’ with distaste and obvious xenophobia, so I think the same would have applied to Karkaroff. On the other hand, Travers quite easily accepts the idea that they’d recruit a foreign wizard, so this is probably something they’d done in the past.

Like I said in Dolohov’s section, I think Karkaroff was recruited by Dolohov, since both names seem to be Russian. This personal connection also explains for me why Karkaroff would name Dolohov first.

Draco claims that Lucius knows Karkaroff, but this is likely Draco exaggerating his father’s importance, plus the fact that as Headmaster of Durmstrang Karkaroff would be of more relevance to Lucius than during the war.

Karkaroff doesn't name Lucius at his hearing; I think we can infer that the Death Eaters that he does name are those that he worked with, or else he would have named more people when he started getting desperate. In fact the order Karkaroff names them in (Dolohov > Rosier > Travers > Mulciber > Rookwood > Snape) might be somewhat indicative of who he knew best and considered most important. Karkaroff's testimony has been much more useful to me than it was to the Ministry haha, thanks Igor.

DEVEREUX WILKES

Pretty much nothing is known about Wilkes, other than the fact that they were a contemporary of Snape and died in the first war. Not even their gender is known.

So we’re free to do literally anything with Wilkes. I’ve chosen to interpret the fact that he died (my version is male, since there are very few female Death Eaters) as being due to incompetence rather than nobly going out fighting the way Rosier did. He’s sycophantic, entitled, and ambitious but all around rather pathetic, and not as skilled nor clever as he thinks he is. I don’t think he’d ever be more than a foot soldier. Again though, there’s no canon info to base anything off other than the fact that Wilkes was youngish and died— and also arguably the lack of information itself might imply Wilkes just wasn’t ever very important haha.

ALECTO AND AMYCUS CARROW

Lumping these guys together. The Carrows are fairly established characters so I won’t talk much about Alecto and Amycus themselves. Their speech comes across as more working-class than other Death Eaters, they’re present in the group that infiltrates Hogwarts in HBP (see Yaxley’s section for more on this) and they’re not mentioned in the graveyard despite avoiding Azkaban, so I tend to think that they were very low-ranked during the first war, basically expendable foot soldiers.

Like Yaxley, I think they were given their positions at Hogwarts because of their lack of notoriety, but unlike Yaxley I think they were relegated to a relatively easy job, under the guidance of Snape, because they weren’t useful or talented enough to be needed elsewhere.

It's also possible that Snape asked for the Carrows because they'd be easier to control than other Death Eaters.

Alecto Carrow is the only named female Death Eater apart from Bellatrix. Alecto is one of the Furies from Greek myth, vengeful goddesses who punish mortals, which I think is fitting.

JERVAISE CRABBE / TITUS GOYLE

I’m putting these together too because I’ve recently written an entire meta about Crabbe and Goyle and their dads and that’s already way too much for me. Also they’re basically indistinguishable from each other. Find that post here, the main thing is that I think they were also low-ranking foot soldiers. Beats me why Voldemort decided to specifically call them out in the graveyard.

Crabbe Sr. is present at the Department of Mysteries, Goyle Sr. is not, that's literally the only difference between them, so maybe Crabbe was a bit more important/talented/something than Goyle. Who cares, honestly.

FENRIR GREYBACK

Yes, Greyback is more relevant than many of the above. However, he’s almost certainly the lowest-ranking, as he never has a Dark Mark. In fact, I think that while he was aligned with the Death Eaters during the first war, he wasn’t actually formally recruited until around HBP, and he never had full Death Eater status. In Snape’s memory, Dumbledore comments that Voldemort has recruited Greyback, implying he hadn’t been recruited before that. Mainly I just wanted to point this out, because we do know quite a lot about Greyback as a character.

The other important thing is that Greyback is treated with contempt and revulsion by other Death Eaters, he’s generally subservient to them, even though some of them seem to fear him. My theory is that the Death Eaters were considering using Greyback during the first war but were not willing to afford him even informal Death Eater status-- they only did this later, when the reduction in ranks following the arrests at the Dept. of Mysteries necessitated more recruits. This is also why the Carrows and Yaxley would have become more important around this time.

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If you made it through all that I am very surprised. Obviously this is how these characters appear in my series The Darkest Days and in fact this list really started off as a way to organise my characters haha. But maybe it can be useful or interesting to someone, i don't know!

OTHER NOTES:

There are also Death Eaters known to have participated in the second wizarding war, but it’s never mentioned whether they participated in the first. Since I’ve already got way too many characters on my hands with the above, I’ve chosen to just not include them or bother fleshing them out lol. They may or may not have been there, in general I think it’s likely that they were.

These are: Thorfinn Rowle, Selwyn, Jugson, Gibbon. I think Jugson, given he was at the Dept. of Mysteries, and Rowle, given that characters recognise him from wanted posters, are the most likely to have participated in the first war. With the possible exception of Selwyn, all seem to be pretty low-ranking.

The Three Dads: so these are the fathers (or other relatives) of Avery, Mulciber, and Rosier, who are all part of Voldemort’s original Death Eaters. They are mentioned in Pensieve memories but never in the context of either war. My view is that in these cases (Rosier, Avery, Mulciber) the sons were more active as Death Eaters during the later years of the war, on the battlefield and otherwise, whereas the fathers acted more as shadowy benefactors/financial backers for Voldemort’s interests, using their money and social influence and sending their sons to fight for them, but also having plausible deniability if their sons got caught.

Even though they’re not very relevant themselves, I actually have fleshed them out a bit just because their sons are important characters in my fic. None of this is really directly based in canon, since there’s no info, rather I’ve built their characters around their sons. So this isn't canon, just read if you're interested:

Aymeric Rosier (Rosier Sr.): I see Rosier Sr. as cold, distant, and domineering. He is cruel to his sons and inflicts harsh punishments on them, and is also an avid Nogtail hunting enthusiast. Their house is filled with hunting trophies, dead and stuffed animals— many of them exotic animals hunted on holidays abroad, mainly to India and Kenya, where he has business interests. You can see where I’m going with this— an imperialist, basically.

Erastus Mulciber (Mulciber Sr.): I mentioned that the Mulcibers aren't part of the Sacred 28, in my mind this isn't because the Mulcibers aren't a prestigious and wealthy pureblood family, but because a specific relative ruined it for them in recent history by marrying a Muggle-born. All members of this branch of the family mysteriously disappeared on holiday in 1942. Mulciber Sr. himself is for this reason very proud, haughty, defensive of his family's superiority, and he has passed down these traits to his son.

Enoch Avery (Avery Sr.): I mentioned that I characterise Avery jr. as a misogynist, and this comes from his father, who is a known rake and frequently conducts extramarital affairs. He is distant from his family and has high, unreachable expectations of his son, who is eternally trying to please him to no avail. Unlike his son, Avery Sr. is charming, charismatic, competent. Avery jr. simultaneously resents his father and seeks his approval.

There’s also a Lestrange mentioned in Slughorn's memory, but personally I think it’s quite possible that he’s dead since Rodolphus and Bellatrix are in possession of the Lestrange vault and fortune by the time Voldemort hides the Horcrux.

[madroxed]

Fic Writer Interview

i was tagged (ages ago, oops) by the wonderful @lafaerie to do this 💖

i'll tag @jamesandanthony, @lavellenchanted, @shanastoryteller, @coyotesuspect, @doreyg & @floating-in-the-blue but zero pressure.

How many works do you have on ao3?

96 on my main and 22 on my secondary, but i've orphaned at least another, idk, 60? over the years, and there's some fics lost to the chasm of time that is livejournal and prior out there to never be found again.

What’s your total word count?

351,946

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

then you'll wake up, your left hand man, pocketful of sunshine, only by chance, when there's no ground. all are shadowhunters/mortal instruments fic, which is a surprise to exactly no one.

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

i do initially, and then i am terrible for not replying after a certain time which is something i'm working on. it's entirely an anxiety thing, and very silly, but if i don't answer right away i feel like it's too late? idk, i'm trying to be better at it.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

i'm not known for my angst, let's be honest, so i'm going to put end of eras (haunting of hill house, luke & nell) here because it's hohh, angst is a given, and also mayyyyybe still my heart this moment and tell me you'll remember (both glee, sam/blaine) which also deal with character death but, like? in a not totally sad way? one's ghosts and one's immortality/reincarnation soooo. i think they count.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

as a happy ending truther, this could apply to practically all of them, but let's go with be in my book (bridgerton, penelope/benedict) which is about as fluffy a fic as they come.

Do you write crossovers?

i used to, back in the wild old days of comment ficathons and crossover comms on lj, but i haven't in years. definitely would, just would have to really think it through now.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

once that i can think of, which was very silly and obviously sent by someone who was deliberately reading fic they weren't going to enjoy.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i have been known to, on very rare occasions. my most recently posted fic is actually 911 buck/tommy smut (find peace in the noise) which i wrote almost entirely because of the group chat. it's not necessarily my go-to, but if the mood strikes.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

yes.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes, a couple.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

not in years, but i used to co-write a lot with a friend in the lj days. i'm not fantastic at co-writing, if only because i am useless with time management.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

i'm not sure i have an answer to this. i sort of just collect ultimate otps and store them and they pile up, so i don't have just one. some i come back to more often than others, but i've definitely been in too many fandoms to have any less than a dozen.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

oh boy, yeah, any? all? i am notoriously bad about this. if i don't write a fic to completion and then post it, the chance of it getting finished are nil. i have one wip on my ao3 (build it better (the second time around), the order, knights poly) that i started before the second season had aired, and every part of me wants to finish it but...we'll see. maybe one day. the part written docs on my computer for dozens of other fics though? coin toss.

What are your writing strengths?

i think i'm pretty good at characterisation. i like how i write dialogue. i think i'm able to say a lot in few words. other than that, who knows. i have a blast with it most the time? that's definitely a strength.

What are your writing weaknesses?

actually sitting down and writing, let's be honest. but otherwise, long fic and plotting are definitely not things i'm great at. i'm trying to get better at extending my word count, but detailed plots still largely elude me.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i try not to, as i am - alas - a lazy english speaker who never picked up another language remotely fluently. and no one trusts online translation tools.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

either buffy or hp, i can't remember exactly.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

i am currently working on some jack/kent (check please) fics (finally - they are one of the dozen that fits into that otp question), which feels terrifying because i love them so much. i also have a couple of stranger things fics i'm thinking about.

i'm notorious for dropping one fic in a fandom and then nothing else ever again, so i'll write for pretty much anything.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

though the truth may vary (shadowhunters, simon/raphael). (i actually started an author's favourites series on ao3 a while back which felt huge, and i've only put four fics in it, oops.)

[valentinesweetheartspecial]

Dmmd dub compilation and glee moments I will still be thinking about at 60 are the best videos on YouTube

[marlowe1-blog]

"Metamorpheses" (The Stories of John Cheever)

4 tales of unlucky bastards

Since this is taking a title from the Ovid classic, it seeks to be a series of sketches of people going through changes. Only this is the 20th century Ovid where no one has a magical change, but a perception change.

The first change comes to Larry, a conservative businessman who one day opens the wrong door and sees two business colleagues having sex and from then on he goes from bad to worse as no one sees him in his former glory. Instead he's a guy who dogs bark at and elevator guys mistake for delivery men. By the end of the book, he's getting killed by his own dogs.

Story two has a married couple that doesn't admit that they are a couple because her father is sick and he wouldn't approve. So the singer waits and waits. Until finally he begs her to marry him. And then she dies in a car accident because he smiles and he becomes a widower. And he spends the rest of his life singing jingles.

Story three - there's a woman who has a daughter who is rather plain. The woman still has big dreams for her daughter but her daughter is in her 30s and this is the 60s so she just wants to get married. At very least she's lonely. Within a page, she falls in love with a veterinarian and loses the veterinarian because her mom interferes. And then she dies and the mom hears her voice from the pool. So I guess this is Echo & Narcissus? Definitely is Echo & Narcissus since the mother is a narcissist and her daughter ends up speaking from the pool.

Story four is about a man who keeps smoking. But then sees cigarettes all over the place. And ends up groping everyone who seems like a cigarette until he gets beat up for groping a young girl.

Just a moment.

Ok. Larry is Acteon who sees Artemis bathing and is turned into a stag. Orville Battman is Orpheus who is close to being with his beloved but he looks at her and she dies.

Damn. I probably should have figured that out. So there you go, Achteon being punished by divine will for seeing something he shouldn't see. Orville screwing up at the last moment and Narcissus in the form of Mrs. Peringer (although the daughter's name is Nerissa and a lot of the story is about her mother thinking she is too beautiful for any mortal).

What else is there to say about this one? It's funny. It's got a sadistic glee in the suffering of its characters, which is definitely something that Ovid does.

[g1deonthen1nth]

the video is, of course, the iconic “glee moments i will still be thinking about at 60” feat jesse gidanthe from my mutuals friends yaaaay :-)

this is how phones were made to be used

[captainsspnanon]

C3E40 - reaction

This episode gets one of the highest compliments that I can give: it felt so much like a C2 episode that my heart grew three sizes.

We got RP!  We got fun combat! We got exciting new location and NPCs! We got the cast being super giddy and silly with ad bits and burps and wanting to sleep over in the studio! (we got the slightly scruffy Liam for I think first time all campaign! ...but that’s just me being gross)

I can’t wait to see what we end up getting in terms of Imogen’s mother.  The concept that she could have been scrying on her growing up, or some other method of observing her?  Heartbreaking and touching at the same time if true.  Though, if true, that means that Liliana STILL considers herself to be MORE of a danger to Imogen, even with all the shit that Imogen’s been going through???  Marisha and Laura being super annoyed that she wasn’t saying her location?  PRICLESS.

None of the RP moments were big sit-down-break-throughs, but each of them added a layer to the PCs involved, or furthered understandings between the group, which is exactly what I’ve been craving.  I am really vibing with the C3 PCs, but I don’t yet have the same friend-pairings that C1 and C2 had.  I’m expecting to be getting more of this within the next 20ish episodes or so, as I think the 40s to 60s had big development with that.

LOL at the Gelidon fakeout!  I can’t see a reason that she would appear in C3 as she was so Wildemount-based, I’d rather see her pop in during the M9 reunion! XD

I was seeing some meta going around between last episode and this one about ‘Travis avoiding the plot’ or some BS like that.  I hope this episode clearly proves those people wrong.  Travis went full on in the second half!  A bit more information about his initial transformation (though some we already had) as well as a name drop!  I haven’t gone back to check, but wasn’t it something like Ruina?  Runia?  It was something that immediately reminded me of Ruidus, I’ll tell you that.  Plus the fact that Travis was clearly exploding with sheer glee with the description of the Gorgynei and their various were-forms.

HEY LET’S TALK LOCATION.  If you read my year one thoughts, you know that I’ve been a bit hit-or-miss with Marquet.  But this village?????  YES YES YES this is AMAZING AND I LOVE IT.  I hope we get to see more of the actual forest itself too, though that would pull away from Yios time, and I’m looking forwards to Yios as well.

Oh, I am QUITE pleased with the set for heavy rain/thunderstorm!  While I would have liked a bit more of the lighting flashes to be visible, I also understand that they must be very careful for possible epilepsy triggers, so this is probably the best compromise.   The quiet thunder rolls?  PERFECTION.  I wonder if this is the maximum setting for rain, or if they can increase it another notch or two?   Also, this once again makes me desperate to see what the snowy effects are. I want to see the Blizzard setting SO BADLY.

SO excited for Chetney’s challenge to come in A MONTH.  Combat?  Skill challenges? RP?  ALL THREE????? UGH CAN’T WAIT

[reidyoulikeabook]

Last Kiss

Ship: Spencer Reid x GN! Reader

Summary: A series of kisses.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, no happy ending, allusion to smut but nothing explicit.

A/N: I am going through a break-up and I'm probably projecting I'm so sorry

June 5th, 2012

"Spencer let me off!" You insist, undercutting your own demand by collapsing into a fit of giggles as he pushes you harder, spinning the tyre swing around faster.

"What do you think Henry, should we let Auntie ____ off?"

"Nope!" Henry almost cackles with glee, clapping his hands together in amusement.

"Spencer!" You protest, holding on tight as it whirls you around, "If you're going to make me stay on then you should both get on too!"

Spencer shares a conspiratorial glance with Henry, considering the proposition. Without answering you verbally, Spencer scoops Henry up, passing the boy to you. You loop your arms around him. He's resting tightly against your body when Spencer clambers on, getting himself settled into a position that ensures he won't fall off before kicking off the ground, hard.

"Weeeeeeee!" Henry cheers, purposely swinging himself as much as he can in your arms.

Spencer's face is an absolute picture: hair flopping everywhere, smile so wide you can barely see his eyes, lit up with happiness at the sight before him. Your hair is a complete state, sticking to your face, your stomach hurts from laughing but you're the very definition of joy. If he's honest, that's making him smile a lot more than the frankly quite nauseating swinging.

"Feel sick!" Henry announces after a moment or two more.

Spencer slams his feeet down on the ground, pulling you to a grinding halt.

"You okay bud?" You ask Henry, setting him down on the floor and holding on for a moment to make sure he gets his bearings.

"Yeah! Gonna go on the slide now!" He yells, darting off towards the slide only about two feet to your left.

You turn to watch him, feeling familiar arms wrap around your waist.

"You're going to pay for that later."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well then I guess I'd better make sure I have a lot to pay for," His fingers travel upwards from your waist, finding the spot where you're ticklish and starting to tickle you mercilessly.

"Spencer!"

"Yeah?"

Between indignant huffs of laughs, you manage to twist around to face him. He's grinning, incredibly pleased with himself.

"You think you're so funny don't you?"

"Henry agrees."

You shake your head, "IQ of 187 but it falls to about 60 when you're deciding whether or not to push your luck."

He smirks, "I've got a lot of it to push."

His hands meet the small of your back, pulling you flush against his chest. His eyes flicker over to Henry, who's happily waiting his turn for the slide. And then his breath is fanning over your face, warm with laughter and happiness and summer air. He kisses you, gently.

Your arms loop up to around his neck as you deepen it.

A fatal error.

His tickling restarts where he left off, drawing breathless laughs out of your mouth that spill against his lips, into his mouth.

"Spencer Reid!"

By the time you wriggle free, you're slightly flushed. He smiles, a dopey sincere smile that you don't ever get to see often enough.

"It's a good job I love you," You tell him.

"It's a good job I love you too."

Before you have time to consider a revenge attack of a similar nature, Henry decides it's time for Uncle Spencer to push him on the swing.

***

August 12th, 2012

Spencer is still sleeping when you wake up. His lips are slightly parted, allowing for a gentle sigh to accompany each exhale. He looks so content when he's like this: the stress he carries in his jaw practically melted. He doesnt snore, just lets out little breaths.

Your finger traces a line on his chest, spelling out ‘I love you’ in a tiny repetitive pattern.

You have the excuse of not being a profiler, so you don’t notice the change in his breath. How it stills, stutters slightly.

His eyes flutter open. He watches you, saying nothing: the pull of concentration in your brow, the way you watch your fingers, the way you mouth the words you’re spelling out as you do it.

“Hey,” His voice is gentle, trying not to startle you.

“Hi.”

His eyes are bleary with sleep. Blinking at you, he stretches his arm from behind his head, motioning for you to come closer. You nudge toward him, allowing him to embrace you. Closing your eyes, you fall into his touch. All there is his him. His scent, the wood-y scent of his cologne and the something that’s uniquely Spencer, the temperature of his body. You’ve joked before that he’s like your personal thermostat, he seems to always be either the perfect amount of warm or cold.

It’s easy to imagine the rest of your life in his arms. The contentment of this moment is one you’ll remember later, the next time he gets called away for a case.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice is quiet.

“You.”

You can feel the intake of his breath, “What about me?”

“How much I love you.”

He shifts. When you open your eyes, he’s staring down at you. His pupils are dilated. You don’t have to be a profiler to know what that means.

He squints sleepily at you, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards into a smile, “I was dreaming about how much I love you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He tilts downwards, kissing you. Your lips move quickly against one anothers, practically inhaling each other. You can’t get enough of him, hurriedly and clumsily and drunk on love, you kiss each other.

September 5th, 2012

"Spence,” You whine, his lips trailing along the underside of your jaw.

“Yeah?”

He’s made quick work of his pants but his shirt is still on. Lately it feels like he’s hardly around and it makes you want to consume him even more when he is. You drink in the sight of his thighs, practically trembling with want.

“Can I?” You ask, fiddling with his shirt buttons.

He nods. You pry them open, shedding him of the material so his bare abdomen is exposed to you. Fingers raking over his chest, you look up. His eyes are dark, plush lower lip catching between his teeth.

“Please.”

You’re not asking for anything in particular.

He kisses you hungrily, tongue slipping ionto your mouth, seemingly searching for something. Somewhere inside you, you get the sense that he can’t find it. There’s no time to dwell on it though, because the kiss is passionate, heated, and soon he has your mind taken off it as his mouth leaves yours and traverses its way down your body.

October 17th, 2012

You’ve barely finished dinner before he’s making his excuses to escape to his study.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No.”

“I can leave, Spencer, honestly. If you have work you need to be doing.”

“No, I want you to be here,” He reassures you, voice cracking with sincerity.

Your gaze is searching, and he avoids it. He picks up the files, setting them on his desk. He heads over to the sink, refilling his glass with water and putting out a mug for the canteen of coffee he’s got brewing.

“It just doesn’t seem like it.”

He frowns.

“I don’t mean-” You cut yourself off, sighing and fiddling nervously with your hands, “I just, when you’re working I don’t feel like you want me to be here. You’ve been away all week and you’ve come back to do more work.”

“It’s not-”

He sighs, approaching you. His hands cover yours where they sit at your waist, shaking his head, “I don’t want you to feel like you’ve done anything wrong. Ever. You haven’t.”

“It’s just hard sometimes.”

He frowns, imploring you to continue.

“I feel like you’re closing yourself off. I know the job is hard just-”

“I’m not.”

“Spencer you didn’t hear me out.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence. He chews at his lip, clearly regretting having shutting you down so harshly.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

He waits you out, tilting his head.

“I just don’t want to be smothering you.”

“You’re not.”

“I feel like I am. When I show up here and you’re doing work, it makes me feel like I’m smothering you.”

“You’re not.”

“Okay,” You fiddle nervously with the fork on your plate.

He crosses the room towards you, kissing you. It’s brisk, feels hurried, almost like his mind is somewhere else. But his hands on your hips, the securing of your body to his. The way his fingers knit through your hair, cementing you. The closeness is almost overwhelming. It feels like he has a point to prove.

When he pulls away, his mouth tips upwards into an almost smile.

“Let me finish this, and then we’ll watch a movie.”

It’s easier to allow him to pull away than fight it.

November 30th, 2012

“Can you not stay?”

He shakes his head, “I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on.”

Folding it into his arms, he turns away from you. His retreating form seems to be all you see lately; he always seems to have somewhere to go, and when he doesn’t he still sits like this. Hands folded across his chest, fists balled up under his armpits. He hardly meet your eyes.

“Spencer,” Your voice is soft, almost begging.

He relents, turning around. The remorse hangs in his half-smile. His curls look deflated, dry. He obviously hasn’t been conditioning them. He looks defeated. It scares you.

You want to ask, but the question catches in your throat.

“I’m sorry. I know I’ve been busy lately.”

“I just want you to be okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“You don’t seem it,” You regret the words as they leave your mouth, the look that washes over his face pains you: the pinch of defensiveness in his brow, the way his mouth sets into a thin line.

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” There’s an edge to his voice, not cutting, curious and displeased.

“I mean things are different, Spencer. You’re closed off, you’re quiet, you seem like you’re not taking care of yourself. And you can speak to me. I understand if you don’t want to but you can come to me about anything, and you don’t, and you keep telling me you’re fine and I know you’re not and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

The words spill out of your mouth. Your chest aches, your eyes glint with tears. You meet his gaze, and the remorse catches in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles, crossing the room to you, “I’m sorry.”

He tucks you under his chin, allowing you to bury into his neck.

“I’ll stay,” He tells you, soft, “I’ll stay.”

You nod, allowing the tears to spill into the crook of his neck. He pulls back from you. He appraises you, taking note of you. He presses the tiniest of kisses to the corner of your mouth.

Your mouth twists, a grim imitation of a smile.

“Shall we order dinner?” He asks, placing the files down.

You can only nod.

December 9th, 2012

It's raining when he lands. Hotch offers to drop him off, it's past midnight and while the Metro is still running, there's no way he can take it at this hour. The case was brutal, and he's exhausted.

Your digital clock reflects 1:53am in red letters onto your wall.

Beside you, your phone buzzes.

1:53am - Spencer

Hi. I just got home. Let me know when you're awake, I think we need to have that conversation.

1:54am - You

I'm free if you want to call.

Your phone rings at 1:58.

“Hey,” You answer.

“Hi,” He says.

There’s a moments silence. A no-mans land forms, both of you sat in your respective houses. Neither of you willing to breach the topic.

He speaks, then, all at once. The words tumbling out of his mouth, like he’s swilled them and spat them out.

"I think we both know things haven’t been right lately. I’ve been pulling away and it isn’t fair to you. I’ve been struggling and I’ve taken it out on you and let it affect our relationship. I think I need some time. I don’t think I’m doing you any good being around you. I’m not giving you what you need. I don’t want to hurt you. I love you and I know you love me too much to leave. So I have to leave. And I know it sounds like it’s for me, like I’m hiding behind you. But I have to do this, for us both.”

27 seconds. That's how long it takes for him to say the words that shatter you.

January 4th, 2013

The shirt smells less like him by the day. You've tried to ration yourself, limiting your wearing of it only for times just after you've showered. Avoiding scented shower gels or lotions.

It’s been a month since your phone call. Thirty-one days exactly. He’d said he’d needed time.

It’s been twenty-three days since you last heard from him. You don’t count the days intentionally, it’s just hard to forget. Hard not to keep track of the distance between you.

The message had been simple.

2:52am, 13th December 2012 - Spencer

I’m sorry.

You hadn’t replied. You’d drafted various iterations of one:

For what?

No you’re not.

You can’t just apologise Spencer, that doesn’t fix anything. I don’t understand what happened. I don’t understand how you could just leave, after everything. After a year, you just thew everything away.

Fuck you.

None of them seemed fitting. No words could capture everything: the anger, the hurt, the confusion, the loss. Sometimes, late at night, you’d sit and type a reply. Hoping that somewhere, wherever he was, he’d be watching. That for some reason, he’d have the messages open. Seeing the three dots pop up on the screen, and sensing the longing. If he was, he never gave any indication.

February 2nd, 2013

Penelope's instagram feed reveals a new picture of Spencer, his cheek pressed against Emily's. They're wearing matching costumes. You vaguely recognise it as some show he always used to talk about, one that was in Russian. One they both loved. A swipe across reveals the rest of the team, a group photo of them donning various costumes.

It aches.

Every day you get further away him. From the last time you kissed him. Every day it's hard to remember the details of it. It's all getting fuzzy, like a video tape you've worn out by replaying it too many times. Did you kiss him or did he kiss you? Was he wearing that lavender shirt or was that a detail you'd added in?

No wonder eyewitness testimony was so unreliable.

Somehow it almost makes you obsess over it more. Trying to catch the dimming light between your fingers, as if you could drag it back into the spotlight, front and centre, full details illuminated. Would that make it better or worse?

Your stomach sinks. Pushing yourself off the sofa, you force yourself to look past the picture of you, him, and Henry from that day in the park. The one that still rests on your mantelpiece. Maybe it'd be easier if you could compartmentalise him. Packed him away in a box, or threw him in a trash can.

Maybe it's pathetic.

If you close your eyes you can almost feel his warmth. How it felt to lie in his arms, the press of his lips to your forehead. Soft and reassuring. I'm here.

The slight rise and fall of his chest. His lips slightly parted, his head lolling towards your shoulder. How you should have savoured it all. Reached out and touched him.

You think of all the times you lay there in his arms, thinking you'd remember that moment later. It was true, you'd always remembered it when he was pulled away to a case. You'd close your eyes, and remember how it felt to be curled up against him. Safe in a little cocoon of affection. Now it burns in your chest.

There's nothing left of him now but what's been. You trail him along with you, like a rag of a childhood blanket you can't bare to part with.

He can't offer you anything now. You yank him forward into your future without his permission, traipsing your old memories through to your present, forming new ones only through Penelope's instagram feed and conversations with the team.

It's not that you don't love and miss them too, but they're his.

Every time you call it's pleasantries, soft and familiar until the words you've been rolling around your mouth since the beginning of the conversation spill out, "How's Spencer?"

He's fine. He's always fine.

It's odd, how the person you spoke to everyday, the man who knew your favourite colour, what your go to animation is, how you like your caffeine, ambles on without you. He seems to make it work, live his life without remnants of you spilling out.

So why can't you?

You're a cup filled with Spencer Reid. With every day that passes, a bit of him drains out. Slowly, you'll forget his opinion on Kurt Vonnegut novels, how he likes to lay the cushions out when you make the bed, the way he makes hot chocolate.

Your last kiss.

***

December 3rd, 2012

"Here you go," You smile but it's tight-lipped.

He returns the same one, accepting the lunch you'd packed him with a quiet, "Thanks."

"Have a good day at work."

He nods. He looks up at you, stubble teasing at his jawline. He hasn't shaved in a couple of days, and you'd comment on it if it wasn't for the hollow look in his eyes, almost imploring you not to speak.

The lavender shirt compliments him well, too well. The shade matches the all too prominent purple bags under his eyes.

"I'll call you if there's a case."

You nod, taking a tentative step towards him, "Can we talk tonight? I feel like we need to have a proper conversation about things."

"You're right."

"I'll see you later."

Unexpectedly, he takes a step towards you. His hand hesitating at your hip, settling for hovering in the air just in front of it. He leans in, pressing the lightest of pecks to your lips. Shocked at the contact, you kiss him back, deepening it.

To your surprise, he returns it. His lips move against yours in a way that's familiar, feverish. Your hand comes up to his cheek, swiping at the errant curl of hair tickling you.

Your lips glide against his, savouring the secondhand taste of coffee.

His tongue slips across your lower lip. Then he pulls away.

There's a blush tinging up his neck, and he almost gives you a real smile, "I'll see you tonight."

Permanent tagslist: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician @calm-and-doctor @ssa-m-187  @seasonfivereid @averyhotchner @muffin-cup @purplewaterbottles082

(message to be added/removed)

[othergaywarbler]

Just realised my compilation has 0.1M less than Mike’s Mics glee recap? Sorry???? Why have I not been invited onto Jenna and Kevin’s podcast????

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 60 - Epilogue

Title: Irreverent Pt. 60 - Epilogue

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~2K

Status: Complete

A/N: That’s all folks. Chapters 59 and 60 coming out together today.

For J - For being the reason I finish this. 

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Aaron's been seated in his new office for the past hour, going over the new certification and training requirements for the BAU with Dave. Technically, it should've been Prentiss he was meeting with, but she'd happily passed along that piece of her new responsibilities, stating that the grouchy old men would do a much better job at it than she ever could.

From across the way, he can see through the glass walls into his old office which Prentiss now occupies. Both Garcia and JJ are sat across from her, no doubt convening there before they all fly out for your bachelorette party. It was a bit unbelievable to think he was only a week away from officially marrying you.

That is, if you survived this weekend, as you'd commented apprehensively earlier that morning. You've been terrified about what Emily had planned, especially given how his bachelor party had gone a few weeks prior. Dave had lured him away with the promise of good steaks and cigars, and then ambushed him with private dancers. He'd even gone out of his way to find one that held an uncanny resemblance to you. John had been sure to give that one a wide berth, making a beeline for the other corner of the room and staunchly avoiding any sort of eye contact with Aaron, much to his amusement. The night had culminated in a panicked text from Aaron to you, begging to be rescued. You'd arrived – his knight in shining armor – and taken him, a terrified Reid who'd been on the phone texting his girlfriend half the night, and a reluctant John who had finally relaxed enough to enjoy the company of the other dancer when you'd arrived and fixed him with an unamused regard that had the poor guy following the rest of you out with quick goodbyes to Dave and Morgan.

"You talk to Morgan recently?" Dave asks idly, sifting through the files in search of the old requirements documentation.

"Yes, he seems to be liking the transition to the academy," Aaron remarks, flipping through the file in front of him in search of the same. "We grabbed lunch last week when I did the Profiling and Prosecution seminar."

Dave smiles with a contemplative nod, and Aaron can only imagine what was going through his friend's head. Things were changing around them slowly – you'd left the team and had built your own, Prentiss was running the BAU, Morgan had retired to spend more time with his wife and soon to arrive son. Aaron himself had taken on the mantle of Section Chief, a role to which he was taking to far better than previously anticipated. Though, he supposed it helped that this time, he was only doing the Section Chief job and not also running the BAU.

It had been the right decision – for him, for you, for Jack. Both of you were home for dinner more nights than not. The three of you had settled into a routine that felt comfortable, and while he missed being directly in the field, he could see the change in him, his body. At his last doctor's visit, Dr. Robbins had commented that his stress levels appeared to be lowered and having a job that wasn't quite so hard on his body was a great help in that.

John was over every few weekends, very much a part of that routine you'd created, and the three of you had flown to New York a handful of times as well, taking Jack to a Yankees game (which he enjoyed thoroughly) and taking him on the subway (which he didn't care for). Dave had asked him half a dozen times, how he felt about John's presence in your lives. Aaron was incredibly alright with it – he hadn't been the only one who thought he'd lost you.

If he was being truly honest with himself, he was far more comfortable with John than he'd ever allowed himself to be around anyone that wasn't you or Haley. He's had time to think about it, about why that was the case. He figures it's because John is possibly the only other person in the world who understands the importance of you, the impact of you. For Aaron, in many ways, John also felt like an extension of you. The same biting humor, the forced humbleness – the way neither one of you could see anything wrong with spoiling Jack entirely.

Aaron could still easily recall the day he'd made an offhand remark about him not wanting Jack to grow up with a silver spoon in his mouth. John had grown quiet, eyes fixed towards where you were finishing making lunch. Jack was sat on the countertop, mixing together a bowl of cookie dough for you, to be baked for after lunch. Aaron had followed his gaze, his heart warming gently at the sight. It was so familiar, Jack always loved helping you in the kitchen. Aaron's mouth involuntarily turns into a smile as you laugh at something Jack had said, your head falling back easily, the musical notes of your laughter making the room feel brighter.

When John had turned back, he had a far away look in his eyes. "You're right," he'd said, clearing his throat, his voice a little heavier than before. "At the end of the day you want to be sure of only one thing – that he feels immensely loved. Because kids who aren't fed love by a silver spoon, they tend to lick it off of knives."

Aaron knew, without being told, that John was referring to Julian. He found himself incredibly grateful that his son got to be fed by you, wielding a platinum spoon. With John in your lives, that love in Jack's life only increased.

*------------*

You stood at the door of Aaron's office, having walked down from your own, on the way to Emily's so that you and the girls could fly off to a weekend of controlled (hopefully) fun. Who were you kidding? Emily Prentiss was in charge of your bachelorette party. You'd be lucky if you made it back in time to meet Aaron at the altar.

It takes a few seconds for them to notice your presence. A few seconds during which you get to admire the late afternoon sun hitting Aaron's frame just right, the golden hues turning his hair a lighter brown – it made him seem younger than his age, and the white flecks (which he blamed almost entirely on you and your disappearance) would suggest. The pronounced furrowed brow that seemed to be a permanent fixture for him while he was in the office, the warm eyes turned seriously down towards the papers in front of him, the pink lips that had spent a fair amount of time between your legs the night prior, causing you to shatter around him. That had resulted in John making a few crude remarks at breakfast that morning, which thankfully flew over Jack's head. Your son was far too excited to have an entire weekend with just his dad and favorite Uncle for a "Boys Only Weekend" to make up for you missing his soccer game on Saturday.

Aaron shifts, noticing your presence, head tilting up and eyes meeting your own. At the sight of you, they imbue warmth and familiarity, sparkling against the reflected sunlight. You're struck for a moment. Your husband-to-be was remarkably beautiful.

"Hey, how's it going?" You smile at both Aaron and Dave, entering quickly to meet Aaron on his side of the desk. Both of them turn to look at you.

"You still have no idea where Emily is taking you?" Rossi's face betrays his glee at your misfortune. He's been cross with you ever since you kidnapped Aaron from his own bachelor party. In your defense, the man had practically begged you to.

"No, she won't tell me." You sigh, your voice coming out almost in a whine.

Rossi's lip twitches, though he does a good enough job at not laughing outright.

You perched on the arm of Aaron's chair, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. "Harvey sent these over," you tell him, placing the envelope you had been carrying on his desk, your hand returning to play with the ring on your finger around as you were prone to do nowadays. "Would you please sign them and make sure they get to his office before Monday? He wants them finalized before the wedding."

Aaron nods, noting how your delicate fingers caress the stone of the ring that's sat on your hand and made him – quite literally – the luckiest man alive.

He's been expecting some paperwork coming his way in light of your upcoming ceremony. He'd lightly brought up the idea of a pre-nuptial agreement with you early on – for your sake – and had been laughed out of the room. You did however, feel it necessary to make him aware of exactly what assets he'd have access to, and thus your lawyer had been busy creating a summary for him to look over and acknowledge. Apparently, it had taken a full staff to do the entire work up, over the course of a month. If the thud the envelope had made when you'd set on his desk was any indication, he was in for a long night of reading.

"Alright, I should go." You heave off of his chair and the two of you look at each other and then Rossi, who takes a hint and looks away, leaving you to bend down and capture his lips against yours. You feel his arm winding around your waist and tightening into your side briefly, before you withdraw, your tongue peaking out to lick your lips. Aaron looks just barely flushed as Rossi turns back, his lips twitching in amusement as you fix yourself and take your leave.

*------------*

The door closes behind you, Aaron's eyes following your walk across the floor towards Emily's office.

"Is that what I think it is?" Dave asks, drawing his attention back to the envelope you'd dropped off for him. There's something oddly familiar about this – the two of them in his office, an envelope related to you dropped off at his desk. Though this time, under far less confusing and much happier conditions.

Aaron nods, doing his best to hide the smile threatening to break through at his friend's curiosity. Ever since New York, Dave had been very interested in learning exactly how much richer than him you were.

Reaching for the envelope, Aaron opens it up and withdraws the large stack of papers, and flips to the first page. Disclosure of Assets – the name of the document hardly did justice to the summary that followed. Properties across the U.S., Europe, South America, and the Caymans. A plethora of divided up Swiss bank accounts, each with a balance more staggering than the last. A stock portfolio rivaling Buffets. The number at the bottom of the page takes his breath away entirely.

Aaron turns once more to look towards his old office – he can see you gathered there with the rest of the girls, laughing about something. Given the piece of paper in his hand, he has to hand it to you in that moment. You lived far below your means. To think that someone your age had access to that kind of money – that kind of freedom – and still chose to do what you did. He didn't think there were many others who would.

Before Aaron can react, Dave has reached across the table and yanked the piece of paper right out of his hands.

The noise of complete shock that leaves his friend's body was not one that Aaron was likely to forget anytime soon. He watches as Dave reads the same summary he just had, his eyebrows moving further and further into his hairline as he goes down the page.

When he finally looks back at Aaron it's with a look that couldn't quite be described – surprise, awe, a hint of envy. Aaron can viscerally see the same thought he had moments ago regarding you and your work at the Bureau flit through Dave's head as he too turns to assess you across the floor.

Quietly, he hands the documents back to Aaron. Shifting in his chair, Dave clears his throat. "You do know that you're going to be picking up the tab every time now, right?"

Aaron chuckles, nodding. He'd assumed as much.

He turns back to you, only to catch you looking towards him as well through the glass walls. Your mouth turns up into a smile as your eyes meet his. Eyes like the sunrise colliding with his, causing his stomach to flip in that torturously delicious manner that only you seem to invoke. Eyes that meet his and stay. Eyes that have followed him, mirrored his, since the moment the two of you met. Eyes that betrayed you both when you looked at one another, the sheer intensity of the emotion behind them giving you away entirely. It didn't matter what distance, what time, what circumstance separated you from one another – somehow his eyes knew to always find their companion in yours.

Aaron might have fallen first, but he is forever grateful that you'd followed.

[heliads]

Daughter of the Storm (Part Two)

Based on this request: “The reader is Wanda daughter but separated from Wanda because of hydra. reader gets called by sword to rescue Monica because she has similar power to Wanda. in the hex she is Agnes daughter and Wanda realizes that is her daughter and tries to get her back but Agatha does want to leave reader because the reader reminds Agatha of her dead daughter who her mother killed.”

part one / masterlist

For the first few seconds, all you can see is scarlet. It swims before your eyes, dancing tantalizingly within arm’s reach. Think of all the power you could have, it says, all the power that is right here in front of you. A lesser man would have caved and tried to take it all in, but you hold fast. You have seen what power does- it corrupts, it tears away youth and family until you are all alone. Running towards power is like running towards a raging thunderstorm, and so you continue walking forward and the voices eventually melt away into the background once more.

After what could either be ten seconds or ten minutes, you make your way through the barrier. Your feet are deposited onto lush, crisp stalks of grass, and you look around you in apprehension. You glance behind you once, as if to check that your exit route is still there. When you twist around, you see the looming wall of glitching red sparks still present as always. Good- you don’t much fancy the idea of being stuck here.

As you step further into the controlled Westview, you reach out with your mind. Almost immediately, you’re swamped with words and thoughts. Your eyes widen as you take in the streets- although you can see everything in vivid color as usual, every second step the air seems to ripple into shades of gray, as if a filter is hovering over the town. You suppose that makes sense- according to Darcy’s research, Wanda is still moving her way through the 60s, so the town would seem to be in black and white to keep up with the cameras.

Also, if you try hard enough you can read the script to the show with your mind. You close your eyes for a second, allowing the storm of thoughts to race over you. There are directions for neighbours to head to different corners of the town, for a Mr. Hart to speak to Vision at the office, for Wanda herself to head downstairs and speak with a Geraldine. That name piques your interest- Darcy told you earlier that Wanda seems to have cast Monica as Geraldine, and she’ll likely not remember you at all. Well, that puts a damper on your plans- you were hoping to swoop by Monica and take her with you. You don’t dare approach Monica while Wanda’s there, so you’ll just have to wait.

However, just standing in this field on the outskirts of town isn’t a good option either. For every second that you remain here, not catering to the whims of the show, it’s like you can feel a thousand eyes turning your way. If you stay for much longer, Wanda will notice that someone in her gilded little suburbia is acting strangely and come deal with you herself. If you’re forced to come in contact with your mother, you don’t intend for it to happen this way.

Honestly, you’re not sure what you want to happen with Wanda at all. Do you approach her, or ‘accidentally’ let your paths cross? Would you take the chance that she would recognize you, perhaps swallow the pang of agony if she didn’t? Or will you do your best to avoid her, giving up the one chance to meet your mother outside of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s meticulous control? You’re not likely to have another chance like this, when Fury can’t reschedule you and the Avengers won’t be steering you away. Are you willing to take that leap and finally speak to your mother for the first time since you were small?

Even the thought of Wanda is enough to send you spiraling back to that dark night in Sokovia, the last time you had seen her in person. You can still feel the scream raw on your throat, the sensation of your arms being torn from her embrace. It was this one moment of utter anguish that had caused your powers to spark into being, so what would it be like to meet her again? 

There’s a drone in your head as the persistent whisperings magnify, and you frown in irritation. Even when she’s speaking to a neighbour, Wanda is unconsciously able to detect someone with powers like her, and the farthest reaches of her abilities are already taking steps to cajole you back into the script of the show. Fine- you might as well play along. It won’t do you any good to be caught right now, not when you need to be helping Monica.

You reach out along the threads of Wanda’s control, tapping and testing for something to relate to you. You had seen how quickly Monica was enveloped into Wanda’s spells, so your mother has likely already cooked up a role for you without even thinking about it. Sure enough- after a few moments of careful searching, you find the stream of consciousness devoted to you. Your name is the same, unlike Geraldine, but you’re meant to be on the opposite side of town, living with your ‘mother’ by herself. You frown to yourself- is this some instinctive knowledge of Wanda’s? Why would she send you to live with a mother, especially one who lives right next door to Wanda herself?

You shrug to yourself. If you’re meant to be living this close to Wanda, you’ll likely find out yourself. You recognize the name of your pretend mother- it’s Wanda’s best friend, Agnes. Wanda would probably be dropping by to visit at some point, and you’ll have to decide whether to flee or to feign bewilderment upon meeting her for the first time. You snap your fingers as an afterthought, changing your modern S.H.I.E.L.D. military uniform to a classic afternoon dress of the 60s. Hey, if you’re trying not to stand out you might as well look the part, right?

After a while, you find yourself standing outside of Agnes’ home. You pause by the door, feeling suddenly self-conscious. What are you supposed to do? You’re not under any mind control, as your powers are too similar to Wanda’s for the spell to have any great impact, and for once, you’re wishing your abilities would just go away and allow you to seamlessly blend into the script of the show. You don’t know how to playact with the other characters of Westview, pretending you’re just a gal from the 60s. After another moment’s hesitation, you reach out and knock on the door. Two sharp taps, and then it swings open.

You’re face to face with a dark-haired woman. She wears a cardigan over a plaid dress, and a large brooch lies obvious at her throat. You stand there for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. “It’s me, Y/N. Your, uh, daughter.” The woman’s eyes flash with surprise as she sees you, then fade quickly into a knowing smile. Were it not for your training as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, you might not have seen the sudden glint in her gaze, of pain and acceptance and a fierce knowledge that shines too brightly for a thrall in Wanda’s spell. You feel a ripple of unease wash over you. “That’s right, dear. Absolutely. I’m so glad you’re back again! I’ve missed you so.” Agnes extends her hand, and after a moment, you take it and allow her to lead you inside.

Agnes gestures for you to take a seat on an overstuffed sofa. You sit down gingerly. Agnes bustles around in the kitchen next door, preparing something that looks vaguely like iced tea. “So, sweetie, what brings you back to town? I haven’t seen you in so long. Mother’s missed you.” You freeze for a second, reaching back out to wind your fingers around the threads of information hovering in the air. According to Wanda’s plan, you were gone on a vacation with a group of school friends, and so you tell your ‘mother’. 

Agnes beams at that, chattering on and on about how she’s so glad you’re expanding your worldview, and wouldn’t you please have some tea, it’s getting so hot out there! She hands you a cup of iced tea and stands there expectantly. You’ve been in a lot of dicey negotiations before, and you know better than to accept beverages from strangers, especially strangers who seem to know a lot more than they’re letting on. Yet with every moment that you hesitate, Wanda’s spell seems to press down on you, and Agnes’ gaze burns into you. You have no choice but to drink, no matter how iffy you feel about it.

The second you down your first swallow of tea, Agnes visibly brightens. “That’s a good girl. You have to stay hydrated, you know?” The strangest thing is happening to you. You’re not sure why you felt so worried before, so stressed, and over what, a cup of iced tea? Everything is perfectly fine. You frown slightly to yourself. You would never be this relaxed in a stranger’s house. What’s gotten into you? But this isn’t a stranger’s house, you remind yourself, this is your mother’s house. Your mother, Agnes, who has been separated from you for so long. You smile enchantingly at your mother. “I’ve missed you for so long.” When Agnes returns your gaze, her smile is not as cloying or honeyed as yours. Instead, it seems to curve with a twisted glee, as vindictive and victorious as a wolf.

After a while, there is a knock at the door. You’re not sure how long you’ve been back at home with your mother, and you’re not sure that it matters. Why would it matter, anyway? The only important thing is that you stay with Agnes and you never leave. It would hurt her so if you left. You stand to answer the door, but Agnes beats you to it. “Don’t worry about that, hon. I’ll get it.” Agnes flings open the door to reveal a redheaded woman, whose smile grows as she greets her friend. “Agnes! It’s so good to see you. I figured you’re always dropping by, so I might as well return the favor.”

Then the woman’s gaze travels past Agnes to rest on you, and her face instantly drops. She stares at you, all pretense of politeness gone. She does not speak for the longest time, and when she finally opens her mouth, her voice is a crack of sorrow and yearning hope. “Y/N?” You walk over to her, holding out your hand. “Absolutely right! I’m staying here with my mother, Agnes. What’s your name?” You’ve followed all the rules of social etiquette, yet the woman still seems taken aback at your words. You can feel your smile hardening on your lips. What should you do now?

After a moment, the woman straightens again, forcing a smile. “I’m Wanda, nice to meet you. Agnes is your- your mother?” You nod, looking back at Agnes with a grin. “Yes, isn’t she the best? I’ve never met somebody who makes me feel so safe. It’s like I don’t even have to think about anything at all. Why would I?” You laugh heartily, but Wanda doesn’t return your smile. She stares at you intently, and you get this odd rush in your head, as if there’s a new mind beginning to roost in the attic of your thoughts.

Wanda’s hand reaches out to wrap around your wrist. “You know what, Y/N, I’d really like to get to know you. What do you say we go on a nice stroll around the neighbourhood?” You look to Agnes for approval, but your mother seems displeased. “I don’t think so, Wanda. I’d rather her stay with me. I just got her back, you know? I don’t want to give her up so soon.” Agnes walks forward to guide you away, but Wanda’s hand remains locked around yours. “Did she come to you, or are you forcing her to stay?”

Wanda’s voice is cold and cruel. Agnes’ gaze returns the same ice. “I’m sure you don’t know what you’re talking about. How about you go home to Vision instead? I’m sure you’ll forget about this whole thing.” As the two women speak, you have the strangest feeling that they’re not just talking about a walk, but something bigger. They’re naming threats without speaking them aloud, trading hidden warnings without going to the trouble of actually promising harm. One thing’s for sure, which is that you don’t like the idea of being in the middle of it.

You open your mouth, ready to defend your mother, yet a new belief echoes through your lips. “Actually, I think I would like to go with Wanda.” Your hand flies to your mouth. That wasn’t what you meant at all, yet it seems so true. Why are you here with Agnes, anyway? Weren’t you supposed to be here for someone else? Wanda sees the sudden confusion in your eyes. “Look, she knows something is wrong. Let her go, or I swear I will destroy this entire town with you in it.” Agnes scoffs. “And ruin your little daydream? We both know you wouldn’t dare.”

Wanda speaks in a low hiss. “She has been taken from me once before. I would trade my life before I let it happen again.” Agnes returns her gaze. “And so would I.” Her arms close around you, yanking you back away from Wanda. There’s a split second where you’re broken away from Wanda, where your hands are outstretched towards her even as you’re pulled away. Your eyes widen. This is familiar, this is too familiar. You have seen this before, but it hurt a lot more. You were smaller then, because you were young and you didn’t want to be taken away from-

You were being taken away from your mother. Wanda, your mother. Your head tilts back in shock as your memories crash over you in a wave, the dam of Agnes’ spell finally breaking. You were sent here by S.H.I.E.L.D. to rescue Monica, and you had been turned aside by Agnes. You yank your arm away from Agnes. “You aren’t my mother. You tried to control my mind?” You laugh bitterly. “I am too much like my mother. You cannot tame me forever.”

You turn back to Wanda. All of your anger seems to drain away from you and you stand still, mouth silent. This is the moment you’ve been looking forward to for years, yet now you don’t know what to say. Wanda, too, remains quiet, but she seems to have an answer. She steps forward, wrapping her arms around you and drawing her close. Your eyes flicker closed. It has been so long since you’ve seen her last, yet she’s just as vivid as you remember. Then Agnes makes a sound behind you, and you feel Wanda’s grip tighten around you, as if she can protect you by keeping you close to her.

You gently break away from Wanda’s embrace, whirling around to face Agnes once more. It’s strange- she looks at Wanda with such vitriol, yet that hate dissipates when she looks at you. You speak to her quietly. “Why did you do this? Why would you keep me here?” Agnes remains silent, gaze shifting between shades of anguish and betrayal. You reach out a hand, stopping just before your fingers brush Agnes’ forehead. Then you stretch out with your powers, forging a connection between your fingertips and Agnes herself. With a cry, you’re plunged into Agnes’ memories.

She is not Agnes now, she is Agatha. She is a witch, standing before her coven, begging and pleading. No matter how many times she calls and cries, they will not answer her pleas. There is a young girl before her, strapped to a stake. Agatha is being forcibly held back, although with every passing second she lunges forward, trying in vain to reach the girl. It is her daughter, of course, that is tied to the wooden stake. It is her daughter that will be punished, for Agatha is too powerful and the coven does not dare kill her themselves.

The leader of the coven steps forward, the hems of her dark robe brushing against the packed earth. Agatha turns to her desperately, her voice in turn cajoling, begging, threatening. “Please, mother. She is my child, your own blood. Do not take her from me.” Agatha’s mother does not stray from her course. “You knew the rules and you broke them. You knew the punishment and you continued with the forbidden studies. If you have anyone to hate, it is yourself.”

Agatha’s mother raises her arms and power begins to flow through them. Across the clearing, the other members of the coven do the same. Blue energy slices into the young girl, who cries out in agony. Tears roll down Agatha’s cheeks, and she does not stop fighting her restraints even after the girl’s head slumps against her cheek, a faint trail of blood leaking from her eyes, mouth, and nose. She is dead, Agatha knows that, yet she still keeps hoping that if she would just be able to break loose, the girl would stand up again and her heart would begin beating once more. 

The girl does not, and the last of her blood is emptied from her veins. Dimly, Agatha is aware that more warnings and chastisements are being directed her way, but they do not matter. All that matters is the dead girl before her, the girl that had once been her living, breathing, wholly perfect daughter. She is unbroken no more.

Y/N’s head snaps up and she removes her hand. Wanda glances at her, curious. “What did you see?” Y/N considers Agnes for a moment, then shakes her head. “Do not be too harsh on her. We should all just forget this and move on.” Wanda furrows her brow, but Y/N steps to the door. “Being alone is enough punishment for her. We can be happy by ourselves.”

Wanda follows Y/N back onto the street, where mother and daughter finally face each other one last time. Y/N looks down, unable to meet her mother’s gaze. “You know I have to leave. I was not sent here to stay.” Wanda’s voice is quiet. “I know. You can have Monica back, she will leave with you.” Y/N’s eyes raise, meet her mother’s. “I wish we could have had more time.” Wanda’s smile is bittersweet. “We will. I know this won’t last forever. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Y/N nods. “I’ll be waiting for you. Don’t take too long.” Wanda touches her hand to Y/N’s cheek one last time. “I’m proud of you, I hope you know that.” Y/N leans in to her mother’s touch. “I do. Goodbye, Wanda.” Wanda smiles. “Goodbye, Y/N.” The agent takes one last look at her mother, then turns and walks away. A woman joins her from the street, and they both walk back to the outskirts of town, to the awaiting barrier. They step through without another word.

Once Y/N and Monica arrive on the S.W.O.R.D. side of the boundary, the mind reader is swarmed with questions from the surrounding agents. She brushes them all away. Her job here is done, yet she will stay a while longer. She intends to catch up with her mother after this, and she must be here when the daydream collapses. Even storms must stick together, after all.

Marvel / Wanda Maximoff / Daughter of the Storm tag list: @mmarinog​, @coollemonsaresour​, @mionemymind​, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​, @mycosmicparadise​  

[tttinytrash]

Ok fine, I caved again. Originally I said I’d at least attempt to not kidnap @shamedump‘s boys again, but their boys are so sweet (and also have to convenient distinction of not actually wanting to hurt their little reader buddy). Dumpling gave me the green light so with their blessing I’m going ahead with Shy’s final prompt for spoopy hide-and-eat with the Bad Sans Gang using Dumpling’s version of the spooky boyos. I hope I channel their personalities adequately, and I hope you guys enjoy!

Movie night with they guys was always a highlight of your week.

You all met as Archer’s castle on a regular basis to just hang out, piling into one room. Thank goodness this was a whole freaking castle, because your gang was pretty big. Despite the size of the room, the couch really wasn’t big enough for your whole group. As per usual Chain, Mage, Dusty, and Mason were crammed on the couch leaving Deca and you to nest on the floor. The plethora of cushions strewn about made that a non issue, luckily. Crash had made himself a hammock out of his own strings overhead, knitting a scarf absently as the movies served as background noise. This week, the reason the seven of you were sprawled over the couch in the first place was the horror movie marathon going on the TV across the room. 

You turned away as the blood curdling screams shrieked from the speakers, the delightful sounds of the hot blonde being torn apart by the feral werewolf on screen acting as your backing track as you cried “Oh come on! That’s just gratuitous!” You laughed, entertained by the campiness buried in the gore but still refraining from watching until the wet squelches subsided.

“you ok?” Chain asked, looking you over. (You didn’t miss Mage glancing over at you either.)

“I’m good. Having a good time, but so not looking forward to the nightmares tonight.” you respond, flapping a hand as if to waft away the concern.

“scared of horrible monsters coming to get you in the night?” Mason teased, abandoning his spot on the couch to push at your shoulder and attempt to loom.

Despite the blank sockets and black tears, the goof didn’t scare you so you laughed easily. “Not like that, and you know it. Stoppit.” You started to push him off, which made him double down on the game and try to knock you over into the pillow pile. 

Mage broke up the game before it turned into proper rough housing, wrapping one tendril around your waist and another around Mason’s ankle. He yanked you both off the floor, chiding “enough, you two.” 

Mason ended up limply hanging upside down, clearly unabashed and jokingly making grabby hands at you.

To prevent further childishness, Mage dumped you into Chain’s lap and dropped Mason into the thickest portion of the pillow pile.

You giggled when Chain wrapped himself around you, setting his chin on the crown of your head and purring about the newfound proximity.

Deca spun around to look at you, “you get nightmares after scary movies?”

“I mean yeah, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay for a good time.” You shrug, as best you can while wrapped up in Chain’s arms.

“Y-y-you know you’re just about the best guarded human-n in the multiverse, right?” Crashed asked, setting hit knitting aside.

“Yeah, I’m well aware that anyone who wanted to get me would have to go through you guys. My brain is just dumb.” You pat the skeleton wrapped around you as best you could, which in your position was patting the thick ecto on his middle since that’s all you could reach.

His belly reacted to the attention by growling, which you could feel while being pressed into it. You could practically feel the mischief coming off Chain as he said “well, i’m plenty willing to make that more literal if you want.” To emphasize, he licked your head.

You pulled away from the intruding tongue, and Chain let you tumble away from him and back onto the floor, laughing as you squealed about him being gross and trying to fix your hair from the huge cowlick Chain had gifted you.

You noticed Dusty quietly saying something to Mason, which was a pleasant surprise as Dusty usually preferred not to speak much if at all. You asked Mason what was up, curious what made the reserved skeleton speak up.

“he’s asking if i think you being taken in would help with the nightmares. so, would it?”

“Uh... dunno. Never tried it before.” You said truthfully.

“why don’t we try it out, then. but make it a game?” Mage asked, grin quirking predatorily.

“Game?” You asked, curious to see where this went.

“yes. you run, we chase. winner gets to keep you for the night.”

“Hah! Am I player or the prize?”

Mage shrugged, “both.”

You glanced around the room and saw several hopeful gazes and a few curious ones. Crash rolled his eyes and went back to his knitting, but you couldn’t deny the puppy dog eyes you were getting from some of the others.

“Alright, game on.”

-----

Crash made a seat for himself and another for Deca high up in the canopy of the woods by the castle, which would serve as your arena for the game. (Thematically appropriate, plus no one could tumble down unforgiving stone stairs.) Crash and Deca tapped out before the game began, neither of them really wanting a guest your size. The others still seemed gung ho, so they were on the forest floor with you. 

You waved your flashlight around the area, already scoping out routes, as Mage explained that a victory meant catching you, no shortcuts allowed, and stipulations about magic to keep you from getting hurt during the chase. You kinda tuned it out, instead strategizing. Not like you had to worry about limiting spells you couldn’t cast in the first place. 

You got a minute head start, and your heart was pounding as you ran. 60 seconds had gone by in your mental countdown, which meant you were officially being hunted.

You were mildly nervous, but far from afraid. You did try to tamp down on the nervous feeling and instead focus on your excitement about a new game. Hopefully a more positive feeling would be harder for Mage to track. 

You weren’t left alone too terribly long, as Dusty had a habit of popping up randomly, forcing you to run away with him snickering behind you. You quickly caught on that he was just there for jumpscares, which made you laugh. You weren’t totally positive where the others were for now, though. That made you more paranoid.

The first time you actually felt the game was afoot was when Mason suddenly appeared on your right and made a grab for you. You dodged the grab, and darted in the opposite direction. Being chased by Mason, you almost missed the dark chuckle in front of you. Luckily you didn’t, as your quick turn saved you from Mage’s tendril’s snapping out towards you. The realization that the tendrils were significantly harder to dodge than Mason had been made you realize Mason wasn’t actually trying to catch you, instead herding you towards Mage.

The realization that Mason was helping Mage rather than himself wasn’t surprising, but definitely amusing. You had to dodge plenty more of Mason’s divebombs, and Mage quickly caught on that you knew what was going on and actually had to chase after you now as well, rather than waiting for Mason to bring you close enough for a grab. You heard Deca laughing from high above when Mason lunged at you but missed, ending in a face plant. Good to know the two non participants were still entertained. Given this opening, you took off yet again only to be stopped by Dusty springing from a shrub.

It was no effort to get away from him, as per usual. But how did he keep finding you so easily?!

Oh, Delta. It was the freaking flashlight! You realized the bright light was all but a beacon in the dark woods. Mason had given it to you, hadn’t he? Ooh, that cheeky little-!

Fine, you could use their trick against them. You jammed the light in the crook of a tree and took of running, leaving the bulb alight. The laughter from both Mason and Mage meant they’d found your trick, but you were far from your boobytrap and felt a sense of victory.

Your skeleton sightings became fewer now, and your night vision had finally adjusted to the dim light of the moon. But it also heightened the nerves instinctual for humans in the dark. You actually screamed the next time Dusty caught you by surprise, and while you backpedalled you didn’t miss the surprised look on Dusty’s face before you felt two solid somethings wrap around from behind you and lock you in place.

You wriggled with all your might out of a pure fear reaction but stilled when you realized two things. 1) The things holding you were big, thick arms. 2) The plushness of the body you were being held to meant it was Chain.

You looked up, breathy laughter tinging your words as you said “I only saw you once this whole game, but wow did you make it count!”

Deca shortcutted to the ground beside you, while Dusty and Chain chuckled at your outburst.

“figured ambush was the way to go. picked a spot and waited for the right moment, and dusty gave me the perfect window.” Chain explained.

“did you even know he was there, dusty?” Deca asked. 

He shook his head, smiling wide.

Crash seems to have been the one who called Mason and Mage that the game was over, as all three approached in a group.

“well played, chain. and you did pretty well too, human.” Mage said as he approached. 

Once the trio joined, the group was left in a loose ring and you still being held by the large skeleton who’d caught you. Conversation was immediate and comfortable, reliving some of the more lively moments and near misses with glee and laughing over mistakes made. After a bit, the chatter was cut by a rolling growl from Chain’s stomach which served as a reminder as to what victory entailed.

“well, the wager was already set. we’ll go set up the sleeping arrangements and meet you back at the castle. see you later, human.” Mage said, leading the others away and leaving just you and Chain out in the cool night air.

“you ready to get in your sleeping bag?” Chain asked, adjusting his grip on you at last to a more bridal style.

“Hah, yeah. Sounds pretty comfy to me.”

Chain smiled before gently fitting your head into his mouth while you went limp to make the next few moments easier on your host. Chain started swallowing with an easy, steady rhythm and you felt yourself relax in response. This was far from your first time being taken in by one of your skeletal companions so you knew the drill. It was with a happy sigh from Chain that you finished your downward journey and slid into the more open space of his stomach. The magic around you was mildly cool but comfortable, and the softness let you sink in a bit and feel cradled and safe.

Chain’s hand pressed in from outside to steady his newly added weight and you felt the light sway as he began to walk back into the castle. You began to rub at the surrounding walls in a successful attempt to get the monster to purr, and he even started rubbing back at you with your free hand.

He did you the favor of turning his magic transparent for you once you were back in the castle. He knew you preferred being able to see people if conversations were happening, and knowing how these nights went sleep wasn’t on the itinerary just yet despite the bedding being set up and pajamas being on.

Once you host had settled where he’d be sleeping, conversations flowed and jokes were made amongst the group with little difference from before despite your seating arrangements. Eventually, Mason approached and started to lightly pester you through the barrier of magic between you two. Chain seemed more entertained by the banter than bothered, but you hadn’t missed the black puddle that formed on the floor behind Mason.

A tendril emerged, wrapped around Mason’s ribs, and dragged him in. The satisfied look on Mage’s face would have clued anyone in the group in to where the troublemaker had ended up even without seeing him be puddled. Any nonexistent doubts also would have been dashed by Mage’s hand remaining on his belly the rest of the evening.

After a while, sleep was imminent and everyone settled comfortably strewn about Mage’s room. Mage and his internal guest were of course veiled on Mage’s four poster bed while everyone else was on various cots and cushions. Even without the luxury of a king sized mattress you felt exceedingly comfortable.

“doin ok in there?” Chain asked quietly.

“Oh, peachy on my end. How ‘bout you?” You kneaded at the wall the way you knew he liked.

He purred at your attentions, rubbing back as best he could from outside. “just wondering if this nightmare cure will do you any good, but i’m feeling pretty peachy too.”

“I will say, pretty hard to feel vulnerable in here. I’ll let you know come morning.”

“good. night, y/n.”

“Goodnight, big guy.”

You both settled in, and it felt like Chain falling asleep took mere seconds. You smiled fondly at the soft sounds of his slowed breathing and his body working around you.

As you drifted off, you couldn’t help but wonder if the chasing game would be played again at some point. 

...

Maybe next week you could watch the sequel to tonight’s movie.

[plotbunnyslayer]

Glee moments I will still be thinking about at 60

[curious-menace]

Hey can I get a headcanon of any riddler of your fancy finding his partners hidden treasure trove of sex toy goodies after stooping around their home, probably while they're out and how they'd react?

oh ho! any riddler?! this is a blank check for mayhem! 

i have naughty hands and no self control so ima do all my riddlers hahahah

this is only a lil ns fw so no below the cut this time 

Arkham riddler

oh.

OH.

First response is he goes BRIGHT RED. H-He was looking for something else, like an allen key or a pack of batteries or something! He didn't mean to snoop! He’ll throw all the toys back in the drawer or box and hurry away like nothing happened. he did find batteries but was to embarrassed to use them.

his face is going to be bright red for hours, you’ll easily be able to tell something is up but he wont tell you what.

but that being said, hes not going to be able to stop thinking about them. he feels a little naughty for doing it but hes imagining you using them, on him, on yourself. the idea is filthy to him but very intriguing.

Don't expect him to EVER mention it again but if YOU brought up the idea or told him you had some toys to play with, he’d have a hard time hiding his excitement. He hasn't stopped thinking about them since and he has some IDEAS. 

Blacklight Riddler

oh ho! rubbing his little fingerless gloved hands in glee. treasure trove is the right word to use, all his christmases have come at once when he finds this gold mine. 

He knew you were kinky but he had no idea you were THIS kinky, why would you keep this from him??? 

hes like a child in a candy store. what does this one do??? ohh this one vibrates! ooh a purple and green one, did you get this specially for him?

Don't be surprised if you come home and find him elbow deep in your drawer or box still rummaging and exploring, possibly with condoms scattered around him like confetti and bondage rope around his neck like a scarf. 

He’s going to ask right away to play with some of these. he might even sneak off to use them by himself but he will GLADLY let you do the hard work. 

He’s going to want to go to the sex toy shop with you. can you get some couples toys? will you peg him?? OH! what about some of those cool remote control toys??? he can make some custom ones for you both to use if you want! Man is going to be bouncing off the walls, you're going to need to get him to calm down before you can do anything. he’s enthusiastic to say the least.

BTAS Riddler

oh? what on earth is th-AGH! *flings a wobbly pink dick across the room in a panic*. Que overdramatics . lots of “my eyes are SOILED! MY HANDS WILL NEVER BE CLEAN AGAIN!” 

Will probably screech “WHY DO YOU EVEN HAVE THIS?!” into an empty house.

i think its the shock more than anything. he’s a germaphobe and he wasn't wearing his gloves while he was rummaging and he wasn't expecting to touch something so...intimate with his bare hands. this has ABSOLUTELY been inside you and it feels...off for him to touch it. He hopes to god you are as particular about cleaning these as you are about the rest of your cleaning.

once the initial fright wears off, he probably feels a bit guilty for nosing about. He wasn't looking for your intimates specifically, he was just being inquisitive, maybe looking for birthday or christmas presents. I think like arkham riddler, he’d probably be unable to get the image out of his head. he'd probably have to go back for another look. 

he has to work up the courage to talk about it. he’s probably expecting to get yelled at, he shouldn't have been rummaging through your things in the first place.he doesn't REALLY need to confront you about this. but he’s insecure as all hell and he needs to know, is he not good enough? is he not satisfying you? why do you need these toys if you have him? please be gentle in explaining, whatever your answer is. 

Original riddler

so freaking blase about the whole thing. you could leave them in the fridge or something and he’d be like “hmm, cheese, ham, dildo....hey y/n we’re nearly out of milk!” 

he doesn't exactly want dicks or fleshlights left out around his apartment but he’s not so insecure about you having them. he knows he cant be there for you 24/7. maybe your schedules are conflicting, maybe you just want some quite alone time, he’s not judging, he does it too.

might tease you a little about your taste in toys. like if you have massive dicks he’s going to call you a size queen, regardless of your gender. or if you like weird ones like that windmill oral thing he’s going to call you a kinky lil freak .

i don't think he has any of his own but he’d be quite happy to use yours on you if you wanted.

unlike the others, he probably respects your privacy enough to not go looking for them or even rummaging through your things. but he is childish as all hell. if you left them out in a shared space he’s going to mess around with them, like pretending to give you a neck massage only to bust out a hitachi wand or something.

despite his bravado and not really minding that you have them, his mouth will go a little dry if you bring up the idea of domming him by using them on him . that's....an intriguing idea. 

Telltale riddler 

well. hes not THRILLED about this discovery. But given how often he’s gone, either for work or running from the law, he cant exactly blame you. you have needs he’s clearly not meeting.

he’s pretty tempted to take your batteries away from you for badness. 

he gets a devious idea looking at your toys. He’s offended! how could you replace him with plastic and silicone?! he’s much better than any toy. guess he’ll just have to prove it to you. 

he’ll probably confront you as soon as you get home. something like “been keeping secrets from me?” but like. in a sexy voice, not an angry one. 

He’s obviously a little ticked off but tries to keep it playful. you can definitely expect him to spend the day making it up to you. he’s going to tease you, hes going to ask if you think of him while you use them , maybe even use some of them on you himself but pulling away at the last moment as punishment . if you want relief you’ll have to ask him nicely.

he’d be absolutely speechless if you flipped the script on him. listen he might be 60 but suddenly he’s a teenager again, embarrassed and unable to form coherent sentences in the face of your exuberant confidence. once he gets his footing back however you two are going to be playing hella games. he’s going to want to sext while he’s gone, send you naughty photos and get some back. maybe the toys aren't such a bad thing after all?

Zero year riddler

you’ll for sure know if this riddler has found your stash. you’ll come home and he’ll be drinking out of a dick shaped straw, wearing those dumb penis glasses you see at bachelorette parties. he’ll have decorated with rope or feather boas , taken polaroid photos of him posing with your toys and stuck them to the walls. he’ll have  a smug look on his face but play totally innocent like “something you wanna tell me, y/n?” Shame is not an emotion this riddler is capable of. 

he was looking through your things on purpose because he’s a nosy shit. He likes knowing your secrets to mess with you later. He wished he had a camera to record his reaction upon finding THIS secret.sheer unfiltered joy  .He’s for sure recording your reaction to him putting you on blast so you two can laugh about it later.

 he might feel a LITTLE guilty depending on your reaction. if you react badly or really embarrassed he might feel bad for crossing a line and apologise . He’s still a little shit about it but he’s an apologetic little shit. 

all of these riddlers pretend they're the most confident person in the room but , like the others, if you turn your charm and confidence on him, he’ll crumble like a dry sandcastle. 

He doesn't want to admit he has NO clue what any of these toys do. like why is this one shaped like an egg?...it goes WHERE?!

rare moment of nervousness from him if you ask him to use them on you/ on him. again, he doesn't know what the heck he’s doing with toys but he’ll be damned if he admits that. feel free to mess with him as payback. this is what he gets for running his mouth and poking his nose into other peoples business 

there you go nonnie! i actually got this one out pretty quickly, i wasnt expecting to do it that fast hah. i like doing asks like this, that are a little nsfw but not so much i have to hide them under a read more.

that being said, full nsfw asks are my jam XD

Got something you wana ask me? feel free to send me an ask or a dm! im always game to talk about our favorite curious menace 💚💜

[spiltscribbles]

Hey love your blog!! Sorry you got no inspiration that always sucksssss. If you feel up to it #189 wolfstar prompts?? Love ya 💙💙

Notes: OMFG Nonny!!! This is such an angelic message!!! Thank you so fucking much! Also this is like 5400 words, which is disgusting and I’m sorry!!!  |  A Reblog is worth a thousand stars!!!!

.-

189  »  Stop pinning this on me! You started it!  |  Send Me A Prompt

.-

Odds On Us

Focus.

All Remus needs to do is focus. It’s not that hard. He’s a damn prefect for Morgana’s sake, in the top 3% of their entire year. Learning to focus amidst madness became as easy as slinking on his cloak before strolling through  the cool Scottish outdoors. For fuck’s sake, it  had to be a learned talent considering he was assigned to a dorm  with the chaotically brilliant duo that is James and Sirius. With Peter besides  who’s always crowing on about classes or the latest bird he’s fancying or the next prank he’d like to commit (which almost always included a stop by the kitchens). 

Focus, that’s all he needs to do. So what if the object of his affections since sodding third year is currently draped all over him— Sirius’s head bent so that he can brush his aristocratic nose against Remus’s temple, and one of his hands discretely rubbing up and down his thigh, inching closer and closer to where Remus’s jeans are beginning to tent. 

Fucking damn it Remus will not be distracted by the blue blooded wanker that is Sirius Black!

With a huff and very deliberate shuffle so that there’s some space between them, Remus returns to scanning the opened page of Withering Heights he’s got opened up, and he relaxes into The Beatles song crooning out  the record player he’s charmed from home to play within Hogwarts grounds, and pretends to care about James from across the room, swaying in his place with a half empty flask of fire-whiskey in hand and his pointer finger twirling in the air with seemingly great effort.

“Righto. Lads.” He declares with a hiccup  between thoughts. “’S our sixth year, nearly the crop of the cream.”

“Erm, think the saying’s cream of the crop,” Peter says, words slightly slurred as he collapses on the nearest bed, which just so happens to be Sirius’s.

Remus laughs, cuts a glance to an offended looking Sirius, “Think he’ll be sick on your 700 thread count sheets, love?”

Sirius glares, retaliates by kissing the corner of Remus’s mouth and trying to distract him all over again.

“Oi! Stop your canoodling you mutts! I’m trying to talk here!”

Sirius rolls his eyes and Remus snickers before ever so graciously returning his attention onto a red faced James who’s taking another pull of the whiskey they smuggled in from the Hog’s Head on their nip to the town after the welcoming feast. “Sounds like just blustering from here, mate.”

The fierceness from James’s glower is significantly lessened by the way his eyes can’t even focus on Remus for longer than a second at a time. “’S important marauder business we’re discussin’ here, Moony! Pranks to be had, redheads to be flattered!” The remaining three chorus a snort. “I’m serious damn it!”

“Nah mate, I’m Sirius,” the aforementioned blue blooded wanker preens, narrowly dodging the pillow Peter unceremoniously hurls his way, thumping on the wall instead. “Besides,” he continues leisurely, practically lying half on top of Remus now. “’S not my fault that Moony here can’t keep his hands off of me, such a exhibitionist. A little wildcat if I’m being at all honest.”

Remus makes a strangled noise in his throat like a very affronted hyena, “Fucking plonker.”

This time Sirius is too slow to avoid the elbow to his side, but the positively devious grin he’s sporting doesn’t let up in the slightest. “I’m telling you boys, it’s the quiet ones indeed.”

Peter and James seem to find this hilarious, but Remus is suddenly plotting out a very elaborate and very mutinous murder using only his pillow and targeting Sirius’s stupidly gorgeous face.

Revenge will be sweet.

“You’re the one smothering me if you’ve forgotten tosser.” He fumes, which makes Sirius positively incandescent with glee. 

“Well I can’t jilt you dearest Moonbeam,” he says with a ridiculously exasperated flapping to his lashes— pinching his cheek just for good measure. And Remus would really like to bite his finger right off but is 60% certain that Sirius’ll take it as something sexual. 

“I hate you.”

“You love me and my washboard abs.”

Remus’s eyes flicker down to Sirius’s sadly clothed torso and wishes Sirius didn’t know how to read him so well. “You’re a bastard.”

“And you’re a beautiful little cabbage,” he replies, leaning forwards for a proper kiss, and frowning when Remus resolutely does not meet him for it. 

“Oh no, I will not be felt up as if you didn’t just slander me.” He sniffs, goes back to his reading; ignoring the way James and Peter have moved on to their own conversation about James’s chances to land a date with Lily this term— From what Remus picks up on a good deal of it is dependent on Gryffindor winning the quidditch cup this year. 

“Oh you wanna play it this way Moons,” Sirius says in that tone of voice that is ordinarily saved for when they’re entirely alone— ensconced behind the curtains of his four-poster or an empty broom cupboard between classes— A very low, slightly gruff, and entirely alluring baritone that still makes Remus’s toes curl while they’re sitting in plane view of their two, beyond sloshed, best friends.

“Don’t know what you mean Pads,” Remus says measuredly, hopes that his voice comes out as unaffected as possible instead of the haggard, frayed at the edges way he thinks it does.

“We’ll make it a bet then,” Sirius says, rolling over so that he’s crowding Remus against the headboard, noses touching and Sirius practically straddling his hips. “First one to cave for a kiss is the loser?”

Oh God, Remus should’ve expected this, truly. Of course Sirius wants to make everything into a bloody competition. And Remus should probably say no, considering that the full is in two weeks and they’re only just starting their NEWT level course work, and he’s got prefect rounds practically every other night. But he also knows it in his bones that he can hardly deny Sirius anything, and he’s always loved competitions himself, especially winning them. Especially if it’s his far too smug, far too self assured boyfriend who he’s taking down a peg or two.

“Mmm, fine. Winner gets?”

Sirius’s pale eyes glint wickedly in the dim light of their room for only a moment, before he says, “Head.”

God Remus should’ve just kept on focussing on his reading.

.-

The general bustle of the Great Hall seems to be especially graining this morning, but Remus refuses to blame it on anything to do with the bet, or the fact it was the first night in nearly a month that he hasn’t shared a bed with Sirius— after Remus had spent part of the summer in the Potter estate in Devon before Sirius returned to spend the final week with him in Wales in his small coastal town with his small but loud mother with her musical supremacy  and sly jokes that told them they would never pull one over on her in a thousand years and all together outrageous amounts of vivacity.

Keep Reading

[ffastoriesforfatties]

Fat people

“Ugh I don’t know why obese people can’t lose the weight, they’re just lazy you know!” Sam stood in her kitchen facing her boyfriend who was slowly picking at his salad resting on her island counter.

“I dunno Sam....” he had heard her rants on this so many times he barely registered them anymore “why don’t you get really fat and the loose it, to, to stick it to them” he threw out jokingly.

“Hey... that’s not a half bad idea” Sam stood there considering the idea, “Then no one could argue that it’s do-able,...” Dylan looked up in surprise, was she actually gonna do that???

“Wait Sam you can’t be serious, I was joking.”

“No no you’re right, it won’t even take too long, if I drop all my exercise regimes and quadruple my caloric intake the pounds will come on like nothing, and then I’ll lose it all, in the course of a year!”

“That’s actually crazy, you’re not gonna do that” Dylan stared at her in disbelief

“No I will, I’m tired of fat-asses acting like they can’t loose weight! I’ll just prove how easy it is when you’re actually trying”

~the next day~

“Whoa whatcha doing in here” Dylan walked into the bathroom to find Sam scribbling numbers into a notebook

“Oh hey, I’m just recording my starting weight and measurements- 28-24-30 and 126.4lbs !” Sam looked up from her pad and smiled at Dylan

“So you’re uh, really doing this?” Dylan asked somewhat confused

“Of course I am, I’ll just put on a lot of weight and then lose it, you’ll have your skinny girlfriend back in no time” Sam chuckled

~2 weeks later~

Dylan walked into the living room hearing Sam beckoning him

“Dylan honey can you please get me some more food?” She paused for a moment “like the pack of Oreos on the counter and maybe one or 2 of the donuts? Sorry, ummm let’s go with 3.”

Since Sam started this journey their apartment had been stuffed with the crappiest food that old Sam would’ve never laid a finger on. Dylan obliged and grabbed the Oreos and donuts and started to bring them over to Sam, when he saw her his jaw almost dropped, she was looking bigger than he had seen in-ever actually, she was certainly not fat but she was actually starting to accumulate fat on her stomach and thighs and it was clear she had been stuffing herself for a while since her belly looked engorged.

“Um here you go Sam” Dylan shuffled away after handing it to her almost unable to contain how much his brain was freaking out, Dylan had always had a secret attraction to fat girls but was always ashamed of it, so he dated Sam because she was the complete opposite, but now..

“Oh Dylan honey I *stuffes face with a mouthful of donut* know you hate to see me looking so fat but I promise Ill go back to bring skinny soon enough, I just have to prove my point”

Dylan sighed knowing she didn’t know the half of it.

~8 weeks later~

Dylan had been out of town on business and when he came in through the door he immediately heard a shrill scream followed by

“Dylan is that you honey? Can you help me with something?” Dylan obliged and walked into their bathroom to be shocked by what he saw, a probably borderline obese Sam stood infront of him, wearing nothing but a very very tiny thong several sizes small and a sports bra, or more likely old shirt pulled taught against her upper body, her belly was hanging over her pelvis and sticking out far past her still surprisingly medium sized tits, her sides were decorated with plump thick rolls, her arms looking akin to pillows as well as her thighs and ass, and her face was shrouded by juicy cheeks and a clingy double chin.

She was screaming in joy it seemed, she had just taken her hip measurements by the look of it and was trying to get a read on the scale

“Dylan can you please tell me what that says, I cannot see it no matter how hard I try”

Dylan still in disbelief walked to the scale and read the number “247.3” Dylan’s brain short-sercuited and Sam cried with glee again causing her body to jiggle. Dylan still just stood there in disbelief, as Sam gleefully wrote down the numbers.

“Isn’t it great? I’m getting so big!” Sam cried out

“Yeah it’s it’s great” Dylan was using every ounce of self control in his body “Wasn’t your old goal only 225 though?”

“Yeah but I figured it would be even better if I kept going so the-the before and after are better..-“ Sam trailed off getting lost in her notebooks measurements and clearly getting away from the point of this experiment and every second was torture for Dylan since he couldn’t tell her how much he was secretly, and shamefully enjoying the transformation.

“Hey hon can you help me get my waist measurement?” She held out the tape and Dylan grabbed it and wrapped it around her large gut taking a sharp inhale as he grazed her lovehandles, he met the ends at 60 inches

“60 even.” Dylan’s brain wasn’t even processing information anymore, he was just stricken with shock he couldn’t get over.

~later that night~

Sam sprawled out on the couch stuffed out of her mind when she asked Dylan to come over

“Dylannnnn can you feed this to me? I need the calories but I’m so tireddddd” Dylan heard her loud and clear and after careful consideration gave in and walked over to feed his beached whale of a girlfriend.

“Um alright, what do you want?” Sam motioned to a bag of cookies from her reclined position on the couch and opened her mouth read to be fed. Dylan hesitantly put a cookie near her mouth and she quickly ate it clearly in the habit, and Dylan repeated the action, with several of them before Sam asked him to bring her the heavy cream from the fridge, so he assisted her, and grabbed it from the fridge all while thinking about how the old Sam would’ve never even eaten 1 cookie, and would’ve never even bought the heavy cream in his hand.

Dylan got back to the couch and Sam immediately said “just pour it into my mouth it’s faster” and Dylan slowly poured it into her mouth, and Sam drank it with ease. When Dylan had practically dumped the entire carton into his girlfriend she motioned for him to stop and then let out a huge belch before grabbing the carton and finishing it herself

“Thank you hone-“ she cut herself off as she started to doze off from an apparent food coma leaving Dylan dumbstruck staring at her body, her belly was becoming ginormous and he found himself mezmorized by it before snapping himself out of it. But Dylan couldn’t resist and snuck off to the bathroom to help himself.

~another week later~

Since Dylan’s return and Sams increasing laziness and dependency Dylan ended up feeding her most meals in their apartment since Sam liked to pass out after she was stuffed. Sam has also far surpassed her original goal weight, but it didn’t seem to even matter to her anymore, she loved her new lifestyle, and was probably far too lazy to make any change regardless so for the mean time Dylan didn’t bring it up.

Later as Sam was laying in bed eating a donut with a glass of milk she watched Dylan come into the room and start changing for bed and Sam had an idea

“You know Dylan, we haven’t really done.... stuff....recently... and I was thinking maybe we could change that..?” Sam sat upright in bed trying her best to look seductive but was really just highlighting her rolls but that didn’t get Dylan any less worked up, who immediately understood what she was asking and standing there in his sweatpants getting an erection, that Sam definitely noticed and smirked at.

“I take that as a yes..?” And Dylan wandered over to the bed more ready for this than anything else in his entire life, after years of suppressing his attraction was too horny to care and pulled his boxers down as he climbed onto the bed over Sam.

Sam grinned excitedly as Dylan opened her fat filled thighs and ran his hands up and lifted her heavy belly so that he could grab her pussy. He teased his dick around the hole while he ran his hands along the dome of her belly for the first time feeling it in his palms. He grabbed Sam by her love handles and pulled them closer so he could slide his dick inside her while being harder than he had ever been before in his life. He started pumping in and out leaned over and kissed her belly (partially due to the fact that’s all he could reach due to its size) and grabbed her at the hips to keep her close. Sam moaned and rolled her head back, panting, savoring every second until Dylan open came inside her unable to hold it.

Dylan pulled his dick out and flopped horizontally onto the bed in shock and Sam just sat there panting probably tired from the minimal exercise (if you could even call it that) Dylan picked up on her breathing and decided to comment

“You know the only thing that used to make you that out of breath was hill sprints” Dylan chuckled to himself at the stark contrast from old Sam. “Also Sam, when are you gonna lose the weight? Weren’t you supposed to 40 pounds ago?”

“Oh uh yeah I’m gonna lose it soon, but what’s-whats the rush? It’ll only make my point, uh uh stronger if I’m bigger, when I finally.... lose it” Dylan chuckled to himself now knowing she was addicted to it.

“What, what’s so funny?” Sam asked hearing his chuckling

“It’s just, Sam you’re not gonna lose it. I’ve seen how out of shape you are, how much you love food? You just keeping telling yourself you will but we both know you’re not gonna” Dylan turned to face Sam and have her a very blunt stare

“Now that’s-thats just not true!” Sam started to struggle out of bed and get herself standing “See I’ll prove it right now! I’m gonna lose the weight starting now!” And she attempted to do a single jumping jack (which she couldn’t even complete) before clearly processing how difficult that was and how heavy she felt “well um I can’t start now it’ll throw off my measurements and weight for the um before and afters, I um need to get to an even number before I can even start to lose weight though, cause that’ll uh um be more powerful” she said staring at her pudgy feet “I’m only 271..”

“Well then let’s change that.” Dylan lead her to the couch her plump out of shape form struggling to follow, Dylan sat her on the couch and quickly went into the kitchen and pulled out an arsenal of fatty foods and brought them to the coffee table, he opened a bag of ding-dongs and held it infront of Sam until she took it in her mouth and Dylan proceeded to stuff her with ding-dongs and crackers and beer until she passed out in bliss at which point Dylan whispered into her ear “I’m going to make you so much fatter and you won’t be able to go back fatty”

~please leave me ideas or constructive critizim! It’s always appreciated