#not much

[albatris]

aw man why'd I make Alex a lawyer now I need to have it do lawyer stuff

[regardsandregrets]

*long overdue table slap*

[meelusinee]

A LITTLE LOAF | R.B X READER

word count \ 2.8k | fluffy angst | slash / regulus black x reader

in which regulus wanders upon your bakery after finding voldemort's locket author's note at the end! | thanks to @ikkyfics for the idea!

A LITTLE LOAF SERIES MASTERLIST

THE LITTLE LOAF | REGULUS BLACK X READER

Regulus had dealt with a lot of things in his life.

He had dealt with his mother and father, which was an accomplishment in itself of itself. He survived Hogwarts and the Marauders, along with any of the other Slytherins in his year. Punishments one after another, either watching or suffering through them himself. Pain that he could never really describe, pain he doubted anyone could.

He’d heard screams that haunted even his easiest of nightmares. His cousin, Bellatrix, went absolutely insane. Narcissa had married a Pureblood maniac, birthing a baby that he doubted would be raised to be a decent person. Sirius and Andromeda ran away, neither of them willing to listen to him regardless of how good or bad of a person he really was.

Which left him all alone, nobody but his thoughts and a mark permanently inked on his skin.

He was younger when he believed in whatever he was told by his parents. When he believed that becoming a Death Eater could make his life easier, that it could make it nicer. That things would become better, and that he’d find a community for him.

He grew up once he got that Dark Mark.

It burnt. It burnt like hell, like lava burning into his skin and mind. The Dark Lord’s magic was no joke, he found, feeling like he was being stamped with the core of a spacial star. His mind felt even worse, like it had been carved hollow with windows attached to every crevice and inch.

Regulus ended up crying in his bathroom that night. The tears felt like a balm of ice when they landed on the Dark Mark, though they burnt more than it too.

He didn’t do much about it. He told his friends once, though shut his mouth up no more than two moments after. Barty was insane already, his mark flaunted loud and proud in defiance of his father. Evan wasn’t far behind him, following in his footsteps like a damaged puppy viewing its new master as its salvation.

Pandora listened once. Pandora died soon after.

So he focused on his missions. He did what he could to survive, and he did what he could to help others survive. Paperwork was his specialty, though he was often sent off for other matters. Cloning bodies to pretend like he’d killed them, ridding them of memories and sending them off to the Muggle world. Either that, or he’d go off and kill someone else. A hungry politician or a serial killer, pretending they were someone else.

He wanted to defeat the Dark Lord, though he had no way to know how. As far as he knew, there was no way.

That was until he summoned Kreacher tonight.

“Kill me!” Kreacher had wailed. There was a crack in his voice he had never heard before, not even when he had been punished by Walaburga.

“Kreacher?” he whispered quietly, slowly falling down to his knees as Kreacher ran up to him.

“Master Regulus?” Kreacher wailed once more, banging his head against a rock he had been teleported with. His head was bleeding already, a small bump growing on his head.

Regulus pulled the rock out of his hand quickly, pulling him in a hug tight enough to stop Kreacher from harming himself further. He never got used to comforting people in the slightest, no matter how close he was to them, though he felt as though he owed it to Kreacher. Especially after every time Kreacher comforted him, it was the least he could do.

“Master Regulus,” he said again, voice a lot calmer than when he was originally summoned. His hands reached towards his head, covering the bloody bump as best as he could. “Kreacher has found a way to defeat the Dark Lord.”

“You did?” Regulus said incredulously. “How?”

Kreacher’s breathing became heavy, face green as if he had been poisoned. As far as Regulus knew, he might’ve been figuring it out. “We may need another.”

“Another person?” Regulus whispered, looking around his room as he thought about who he could tell.

His parents were out of the question, as were Sirius and anyone in his stupid Order. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t ask them for help. Pandora was his first thought, though he quickly remembered. Barty most likely would’ve tattled as soon as he heard, Evan right behind him. Dorcas had passed too, having been killed by the Dark Lord personally. He still wasn’t sure why.

Narcissa might help though. She didn’t ask questions often, and he knew she didn’t know enough to connect any dots about the Death Eaters.

“Cissa?” Regulus whispered, trying to keep quiet. He never knew was wandering the halls.

“Kreacher thinks that Master Regulus’ idea is a good one.” Kreacher said, nodding slowly. “Though Kreacher is unsure if he will need to be summoned in order for this to work. The Dark Lord casted an anti-Apparation charm on the cave.”

“The cave?” Regulus asked. “What cave, Kreacher?”

Kreacher sighed as he finally caught his breath. He seemed to look better than before. He wasn’t begging to be killed, at the very least.

Kreacher began to explain what he had found. A cave made by the Dark Lord, with an inability to be Apparated into or Disapparated out of. A door opened by blood, and a potion he would have to drink after passing through a lake of Inferni. Kreacher was not sure if he could Apparate both him and Regulus back out, though Regulus was fairly certain that he could. Even still, he planned on asking Cissa for discreet help just in case.

And after a little bit more discussion, he had a plan.

He planned to leave early in the morning. He planned for this to be easy.

It didn’t turn out easy.

He smeared his blood against the wall. He crossed the lake with Inferni, the boat rocking back and forth as he paddled it forward through the cold water. He had gotten to the poison, with Kreacher holding a small bracelet in his hand. It would vibrate whenever he pressed it. Once for help, and two for an okay.

But now he was in front of the poison. Regulus could already feel his body aching as he walked closer and closer to the pedestal full of water, pain running through his body though it was mild.

“Master Regulus,” Kreacher said to him, hands clasped together. “Remember that I am not allowed to give you relief,”

“No matter how much I beg.” Regulus finished, looking down at the poisoned water. “There is something under this though, right? A Horcrux?”

Kreacher nodded. “Yes, a Horcrux.”

“I didn’t get much material on what it was,” he muttered, looking at Kreacher with furrowed eyebrows as he tried to remember what he had learned. It wasn’t much though, having stayed up most of the night worrying about it. “But I learned that it helps to keep one alive, no?”

“Yes, Master Regulus.” Kreacher said, nodding. “That’s what I found yesterday. They need to be destroyed with the highest form of magic, they can only be formed by committing murder before.”

“Okay.” he whispered, looking down at the poisoned water once more. “Kreacher?”

“Yes, Master Regulus?” he asked, looking up at Regulus.

“Don’t let me go in the water.” Regulus muttered under his breath, grabbing a goblet he had brought himself. He didn’t know how much poison would be in the basin, though it seemed enough to fit.

“Yes, Master Regulus.” he said, nodding.

Regulus sighed before collecting the poison in the goblet, drinking it all in one go. It went down his throat with a burning sensation, like his father and mother casting a Crucio on him at the same time. It hurt, to say the very least.

He felt thirsty.

Extremely thirsty.

There was water down below him. A pool of water surrounding him. It looked so cold, and his throat felt so hot inside of his neck.

He still felt thirsty. Too thirsty to resist.

He felt something dragging away from the water. There was something in there, though he didn’t care. He needed to feel relief in his throat from whatever he had drunken, his throat burning hotter than a neutron star’s heart running down his throat.

“Water,” he rasped out, bile coming up from his throat as he kneeled down near the water. There were hands all around him. On his arms dragging him down and two hands dragging him up, his hair and hands being dragged in different directions. “I need water,”

“Master Regulus!” he heard a voice call out. He wasn’t sure who it was, though he felt his body shifting. It swirled around in the air, vomit and bile coming out of his throat as he felt his body landing somewhere else.

“You’re okay, Master Regulus!” the voice said. He wasn’t sure why it was calling him its master.

Regulus’ vision faded in and out, body aching as he laid down on the ground. He felt his body heating up hot, unable to stop it. His throat and face burned, his body shaking violently. He wanted a release.

His eyes fell closed as he slumped down to the ground completely. His head felt like it was full of water, eyes pounding behind his skull.

“Kreacher,” he rasped out. “Make it stop.”

The house elf looked around, tapping the bracelet to signal that they were fine. He didn’t know what to do.

“Kreacher.” he rasped. “Please.”

Regulus woke up to a blank ceiling, a cold towel on his forehead. He had scratch marks on his arms, and his scalp was burning horridly. Other than that though, he seemed generally fine.

“Kreacher?” he called out. His voice was hoarser than he expected, still burning from whatever he did last night. He didn’t remember it fully.

“Master Regulus!” he called out, a small plate of sandwiches in his hands. “You’re awake.”

“What happened?” he asked confusedly, looking around the room. It definitely wasn’t a place he was used to, rather barren and bland for his taste.

“You fainted from the poison.” he said.

“Ah.” Regulus said, before sighing. “Is there a bakery or something near here? I’m starving.”

“Kreacher cannot go get you food, Master Regulus.” he said, almost disappointed in a sense. “This is a Muggle town, sir. Though Kreacher did find one on the outer corner of this street.”

“Thank you, Kreacher.” Regulus said, a small smile on his face. “For everything. I’ll bring you back something, if you’d like.”

“Kreacher cannot ask that of you.” he said, shaking his head no. “No he cannot.”

“It’s not asking if I offer.” Regukus said, patting Kreacher on the head before standing up. He was a bit wobbly, sure. But he could probably play it off as a hangover more than anything else. Especially if this town was full of Muggles.

“I’ll be back, Kreacher.” he called out, grabbing a coat and walking out to the bakery.

You were currently rolling bread on the counter, visible from the cash register for design. Customers watching you was something you had to get used to for a long time, though now it’s something you take pride in. Especially when people walk up asking questions for their own use, either on tips or just the general process in general.

The bell to the door rung loud as someone walked in. Nobody had come in yet for the day, you didn’t get much business on Tuesdays.

“Welcome to The Little Loaf!” you called out, a wide smile growing on your face as you stood up. Your feet carried you to the register easily, heels clicking on the ground. “What can I get for ya?”

“Uhm,” the man mumbled. He looked at you for a moment or two in what you assumed to be wonder before blinking out of it, shaking his head as he looked at the menu. “A coffee?”

“Coffee sounds really good right about now,” you agreed with a playful chuckle, putting that in the register before looking at him. “Anything else?”

“Uh,” he mumbled, looking over at the display case. “Maybe a breakfast croissant. I’ve never been here.”

You chuckled softly and waved the comment off, offering to detail to him the different items. He ended up with a coffee and two croissants, along with a small breakfast biscuit in a to go bag.

During that time talking you realized that he seemed rather nice. Awkward, sure, but that was probably because he seemed rather new. He had a rather distinct accent that you could easily tell was French, though he didn’t seem to notice it.

You also learned his name was Regulus.

“Thank you for shopping here!” you smiled brightly at him, waving as he walked out. The store seemed to get just a little colder once he did, though you figured that you wouldn’t question that right this moment.

All you had to do now was divide the bread and bake it.

Regulus stood there in shock by the time he walked out the store, face flushed completely red as he found a secluded alleyway to hide himself in.

You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. He was sure that he made a blubbering fool of himself back there, that you would never go for him under any circumstances. He most definitely was not used to your culture one bit either.

But Merlin, were you beautiful.

He figured that he would need an excuse for something about himself. How would he describe that he communicated through letters sent by owls? Did Muggles even use letters for communication? What would they use to communicate?

What about their courting system? Would you use formalities like he was used to? Would you jump into it like his heart seemed to want?

His face flushed brighter and harder the more he thought about it. He was always one to fantasize about things, though he had never done it to this extent. He felt his heart pounding in his chest as question after question ran through his mind, trying to steady his breath as he took a sip of his coffee.

He learned that you owned the bakery. That you ran it all by yourself for the most part, with the exception of your sister on extremely busy days.

He also learned about what the words ‘love at first sight’ really meant.

Regulus found his feet walking back to the bakery before he could even register it. He tried to stop himself, unsure how asking you for anything would really go. Would you say yes? Would you find him creepy? Would he even be able to communicate with you?

He was a Death Eater still. He had to focus on killing the Dark Lord. Would you being a Muggle complicate or conflict his interests? Would he be putting you in harm’s way if he asked you out?

Regulus found himself not caring as much as his thoughts wanted to though. His face was still red when he walked in, a small smile on his face. “Hi again.”

“Hey there!” you smiled. That smile seemed so perfect, it disarmed him instantly. “Did you miss anything?”

“Not quite, no,” he mumbled, clearing his throat. His accent was rather thick right now, he found, which usually happened when he was nervous. He felt extremely nervous right about now. “How would one reach out to you?”

“Pardon?” you asked, a small chuckle escaping you.

“I mean,” he said before pausing. “Should one want to contact you. How would you suggest they do it?”

“Oh!” you said, before chuckling softly. “My phone number, usually.”

He blinked once. Twice.

“Your,” he mumbled in confusion. “Phone?”

“Yes, a phone.” you chuckled, a bit louder than before. “What, have you never heard of that before?”

He shook his head, clearing his throat again. “No, I have not.” he mumbled. “I usually sent letters where I grew up. Sophistication and all that.”

“That sounds absolutely dreadful.” you mumbled, your face forming a pout. “Maybe you can buy one!”

Regulus nodded, eyebrows furrowing once more. “How does one buy a phone?”

You smiled at him, nudging him from over the counter as you looked him in the eyes. Your eyes were so beautiful, he found himself drowning in them for a moment or two. He wanted to stay there forever.

“How about we meet here tomorrow? Imll take you on a walk to the phone store, we can go shopping!” you smiled, drumming your fingers against the desk.

He blushed even brighter at that, so hard that he was sure he was transfiguring into a tomato. “Okay.”

“Okay!” you smiled, clapping excitedly. “I close shop about 2 in the afternoon, you can stop by after. I’ll make a small treat for us both.”

“Okay.” he nodded, this time with a bit more confidence.

Merlin, he was so done for.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

i'm making this a small little series to work on, since the idea i had when i got the prompt was just too good to put into a oneshot! THANK YOU AGAINNN to @ikkyfics for recommending me the idea (i loaf u sm bestie ur one of the bestest frfr)

AS ALWAYS - please like, comment and reblog!! it helps out much more than you guys might realize, so u should totes do it!

A LITTLE LOAF SERIES MASTERLIST

[mgu-h]

LandoLOG 025: My biggest improvement in F1 is…

LandoLOG 026: Getting 2023 started

norstappen in the LandoLOGs

[voidmade]

[meaty-bones]

So I made another sketch dump - a little more chaotic than the last one I think

Some of my personal favorites include:

[checkeredpattern]

Friendly reminder that he probably felt pride in his horns

[stripedstarsblueflags]

let me be clear: this blog is NOT a safe space for lando haters. i’m sorry if that rubs you the wrong way, you’re free to block/unfollow.

“he bottles his starts” “he’s not as good as max” “he’s only good cause he’s got a rocketship of a car” “piastri has more potential” “he throws away opportunities” “he should’ve won and he fucked himself over” YOU DON’T THINK HE KNOWS THAT? even with all the PR training he has no poker face in interviews. he has moments, more and more frequently, where he radiates self-hatred. he isn’t out here protesting all the criticism, he’s taking it personally– way too personally– and people keep heaping it on harder and harder as if that makes a difference??

jesus christ people are coming after him like he’s making mistakes on purpose to spite them. i get it if you don’t like the fans– i don’t like them either. i’m talking about the hordes of mainly girls, often underage, who treat him like the next harry styles and drop really creepy/inappropriate comments in his posts and overall contribute to the “overhype” image. but then your beef is with the fans.

scraping the bottom of the barrel for every single excuse to put him down, to deny his performances, to nullify any single good result he comes up with is not going to change the numbers. he’s second in the championship. he’s won two races. he’s one of three drivers out of twenty he’s won more than one race, and lewis’s second win was after the disqualification and max is max. “he got a free pit stop in miami” “he just has a better car than max” okay, take it up with the FIA if you’re so upset.

i don’t really share my opinions on socials. i mostly just share other people’s memes and drop charlos-themed comments on instagram, and i’m new to tumblr but i try to stay in my own stupid little rpf lane. but now i just need to vent. if that makes you mad then like don’t read this far i guess??

my voice doesn’t matter. like, at all. i don’t have the full picture and i never will, and i physically can’t have any more of an objective opinion than anybody else who’s experiencing this all from the other side of a television screen. but i don’t like bullies. i personally don’t like it when people take it upon themselves to find the chinks in someone’s armor and sharpen their teeth. confidence, self-assurance, faith, the ability to silence everyone else’s voice is just as vital to an athlete as their strength and endurance. max verstappen has shown the power in mental/emotional invulnerability. lando doesn’t have that, and if anything it’s getting worse.

f1 isn’t structured to be fair. it is what it is. if you don’t like who’s winning, watch a different sport.

[blitzy-blitzwing]

It seems that the Decepticons are not used to being worshiped like this...😅😅😅😅

I dunno, I think Megs would be used to it.

[downfalldestiny]

Not Much 🍂🌄 !.

[will-the-ghosts-go-away]

[plastic-razor]

Teehehoo,,!,!!!

[xoalin4]

VELIKAN

My little hc of how I imagine Velikan? And a bit of Velikan x reader in here. Maybe a lot but anyway.

Feel free to send hate because you feel I judged his character wrong or whatever you want in the comments because I don’t mind it and will take it into consideration of how I should try and understand the cod character more.

Again, this is made up by me and you don’t have to like it, but do say if you think I got him wrong.

I see Velikan to be more of a relaxed, laid back guy. He just chill like that yk?

He’s the type of dude that would just sit there, arms behind him on the headrest of the couch, watching as you cry your ass out about something.

Maybe after you cry you eyes out about whatever you were crying about, as he wasn’t really listening, he’ll pat you on the back.

He’s also the type of dude that you could say the most horrible, disgusting, straight evil, jail sentencing words to, and he will just sit there like ‘damn’. He just doesn’t care about that type of stuff, to old to care, he got better things to do.

You could be crying your eyes out as you explain to him that your whole family to brutally murdered and mangled, and he would just look at you like: “damn..”

Don’t come to this guy for comfort, the most he’ll do is pat you on the back while you cry into his chest or something.

But then, it mostly depends on how he perceives you, what type of relationship you got with him. Because he could be chill and relaxed with you, maybe play around and shit. Or he could be a straight bully, I mean a BULLY.

Like, let’s take into fact that he is BIG, his name literally means giant (I perceive him to be 6’5 and bulkier then ghost) so it would be wrong if he was not to use his strength and size to his advantage.

I see him as the type of dude that likes to mess around with you, embarrassing you in front of other members of the shadow company by making your gun accuracy shit or making you trip over in the hallways.

Picking you up and hanging you on a wall hook (pretend they can hold you and there happens to be one around) and just leave you hanging there until someone finds you.

Or even dragging you to his quarters and pinning you underneath him on his bed, fucking you roughly until you cry. Making you struggle underneath him while he bullies his thick, veiny cock into you. You could do nothing about it but to sob into the pillows as he holds your head down.

Tho never once have you heard him talk, by the way he fucks you gives you enough information to understand he is reminding you of how weak you are, that he could do whatever he wants with you.

Or back to the more calmer type of him, he would be more relaxed with it, more slow, but still deep and harsh, as he is just so big he can’t help but be rough.

I mean who could blame him when a pretty little woman like you is underneath him?

I also see him to be the type of dude he does thumbs up a lot, or that likes to fist bump people he deems as friends or colleagues.

I could see him being so relaxed on the way to a mission, as if it was a daily chore (which it probably is) just for him to absolutely mangle the enemy team like they are nothing but bugs underneath his feet.

(I fucking love his maniac laugh)

Also see him as the type of dude that when in a car, and it makes a turn he lets his body turn with it to squash the person next to him. While silently chucking with an evil glint in his eyes as he watches the person desperately try and push him off of them.

The type of dude that would grab your face when you talk to much, like palm over your mouth and gripping your jaw tightly. Till you start scratching at his gloved hand to try and get him to let go because you can’t breath.

The type of dude to smack you in the back of the head when you walk in front of him, because why not? Not a hard smack, but enough to make you grasp your head and glare at him while he walks past, his shoulders moving up and down as he laughs silently.

Type of dude that would make the base have to buy extra food because he eats it all like a fat pig. He needs to stay healthy after all, he didn’t get that big on just exercising.

Idk what to think of this, been staying up to late lately.

Again, this might not be how you imagine Velikan, and feel free to say it in the comments or something, I don’t mind what you say. And it’ll help me understand the characters more if you understand them better and all.

Not talking to the people that make then any softer then what I wrote.

And if you liked how I wrote him, feel free to ask for a request of some headcanons if you want, I’m not up to making stories just yet as I ain’t that good. Just say which one of him you’d like,

‘bully Velikan or relaxed Velikan’

Fighting with my auto correct to stop trying to change Velikan to Pelican😔

Also i refuse to make him talk at all, he is completely silent except for a laugh or a chuckle or whatever groaning, huffing shit. No speaking tho, just like his character doesn’t.

[vandrawsing]

fall fitzier exchange treat for @icicaille-fic, a fitzier baseball au

[beeejayy]

Song for a Guilty Sadist by Crywank