#whilst they’re telling him of their crimes??

[luvmoonie]

when sunak openly admits that he does not see what israel is doing as a genocide you know that this country is completely corrupt

[lizzy06]

Shinsou Hitoshi x Reader Fics Recs!! (Tumblr/Ao3/Wattpad)

My Hero Academia Fic Rec Masterlist

ab intra ✨✨💖💖by andypantsx3 (humor, eventual smut, brainwashing)when a wave of disturbing crimes sweep the city, pro hero Hitoshi Shinsou is assigned to work the case with you. What's even more frustrating than his obnoxious personality is the fact no one will tell you why he’s involved. Things only get more suspicious from there.[COMPLETED]

no grave to hold my body down✨ by Hawnks (supermintfluff) (oneshot, hurt/comfort) Kindness is its own superpower. Love is, too.[COMPLETED]

Jealousy✨ by @alienaiver (oneshot, fluffy banter)Shinsou wants your attention after coming home, but you are preoccupied.[COMPLETED]

 The Sports Festival✨ by @writing-freak(oneshot, fluff) reader with a weather quirk faces off against shinsou in the sports festival[COMPLETED] pt 2: Parties for No One ✨by @writing-freak (oneshot, fluff)you consider approaching shinsou after the sports festival. an unlikely friendship commences. [COMPLETED]

Why aren't you scared of me? by @bakugohoex (oneshot, slight angst, fluff)in which shinso joins class 1a and whilst everybody seems to be scared of him out of fear he’ll use his quirk, you try to befriend the boy and he develops feelings as soon as you talk to him.[COMPLETED]

Diary by @onyxiana-is-obsessed (oneshot, fluff)Shinsou finds your diary where you’ve written way too much about him. Good thing he feels the same way.[COMPLETED]

Speechless by @alaskamonsters (oneshot, first meetings)[COMPLETED]

18 by @songbirdsingingthings (oneshot, jealousy, fluff) .[COMPLETED]

how to start an office romance✨ by animepseud (multipurposeroom) (fluff, humor, angst, slowburn)When a serial killer shows up to terrorise the neighbourhood, who do you call? According to the neighbourhood, not Shinsou.is there a better time to pursue romance than in the midst of a serial killing investigation?[COMPLETED]

Friendly Reminders & Math Equations✨ by kingyohno (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff)What one person writes on their skin also appears on the skin of their soulmate. Reader is forgetful and Shinsou is bored. Awkwardness ensues.[COMPLETED]

lilac eyes | shinsou x reader✨ by personb (strangers to lovers, fluff, angst)You just wanted to live for one night at a party with Jirou, though it seemed your night was going to be far more eventful than you anticipated. And you welcomed it, well him at least, with open arms. And to be fair he was very, very hot.[COMPLETED]

Your name on my skin✨  by  @dira333 / Fogfire (oneshot, soulmate au, )What your soulmate writes appears on your skin.[COMPLETED]

Two mind related quirk users walk into a train  ✨ ✨ by  wotefokizbrunch (oneshot, mindreader! reader, humor)When Shinso is sleep deprived his inner monologue just rambles non-stop and you, being a mindreader, find it hilarious.[COMPLETED]

Heart & Mind ✨ by orphan_account (oneshot, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort)You have trouble finding a sparring partner because of your Quirk. Few are willing to have their emotions manipulated, after all.[COMPLETED]

Love at First Sight by ScatteredScribbles (oneshot, fluff, coffee shop au, love at first sight) Even though Shinso knows better, some part of him still wants to believe it’s possible–that there’s a single person in the world made for him, and they’re lounging about in the coffee shop he works at.[COMPLETED]

Just Say It by @sunnieskies02 (oneshot, soulmate au, hanahaki disease, slight angst with happy ending) [COMPLETED]

Show Me by hunnybby(oneshot, crush, fluff, humor) Shinsou Hitoshi's classmate just won't leave him alone. If she wanted to know his quirk so bad then she should have paid attention.[COMPLETED]

We Really Need To Stop Meeting Like This by spicyNess (oneshot, tooth rooting fluff, crush)The more you bumped into him, the more you wanted to.[COMPLETED]

Late Night Visits by candlelight27 (oneshot, college au, fluff, smut, idiots in love)A not-so-innocent game of truth and dare and all your conspiring friends might give you an opportunity to sort out the feelings you have for your best friend, Hitoshi Shinsou.[COMPLETED]

 Heroes Together by @writing-freak(oneshot, fluff)after growing up close friends with shinsou, you are forced to move away and leave your home behind. years later, you return, reunited with the best friend who doesn’t seem to remember you. [COMPLETED]

In All Honesty by Avistella (oneshot, fluff)People have always been wary of talking with Shinsou, but not you. When you start distancing yourself from him, Shinsou becomes worried.[COMPLETED]

Chocolate kisses and Catpuccinos by HydrangeaPartridge (coffee shop au, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, smut)In which you are an accident prone-waitress in a cat café where Pro Hero MindJack (aka Shinso Hitoshi) likes to spend time. How will your relationship evolve through the four seasons of one year?[COMPLETED]

[icarryitin]

Episode 38: Feels Like Fire

spencer reid/gn!reader

you didn’t think i was going to put spencer through all the canon awfulness and not stick reader in the hospital at least once did you???

series masterlist

word count: 1.6k // warnings: reader gets shot, hospital scenes, blood, Anxiety™️ from just about everyone but mostly Reid, an awful lot of inner monologuing that i refuse to apologise for, does the L bomb count if nobody says it out loud?

summary: Spencer’s worst fear comes to life, and he can’t do anything but watch.

Nobody expects a crime scene, taped off and crawling with cops, to be a hostile situation. The latest dump site is only about an hour old, its crowd of onlookers only growing. Even so, he’s not looking at you when it happens - Spencer doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not. He tells himself it is, that he’s graciously been spared the visual of your body hitting the ground. That’s the first lie.

Because, if he had been watching, he’d have been able to pinpoint exactly where the bullet came from.

The sound, though - that unmistakable crack through the air, flesh tearing, the thud of skin on concrete. Your gargling, gasps for breath against the blood filling your lungs will haunt his nightmares.

He isn’t the first to get to you, it’s Tara who’s on her knees in the street beside you with her hands pressing down on your ribcage to staunch the bleeding. Tara, who has known you just inside of one week, holds your life in her hands whilst Spencer can only stand by the hood of the SUV - reeling.

Is this how you’ve felt, every time it’s been him on the wrong end of a bullet?

No, he knows that’s not true. Every time he’s been the one to go down, you’ve jumped into action. Or gotten mad at him, one of the two. And yet, for all the complicated feelings he has for you, he’s paralysed. Because it’s you. Unshakeable, indestructible, you. This isn’t supposed to happen. It’s an EMT bustling past him that finally kicks his brain into gear, medpack knocking into his shoulder.

Oh god, this must be terrifying for you.

It’s only now that he remembers your fear of medical procedures, or even anything adjacent. Hell, you’ve made Spencer go to the dentist with you for moral support more than once. A request he’s happy to fulfill. Dentist, doctor, everything. But right now, EMTs are sticking you with needles and he’s not there. All the times you’ve swallowed that fear to be beside him on his worst days, and he’s not beside you on yours. That’s what gets his feet moving, what wakes up his legs and carries him over to kneel by your head as an oxygen mask is pulled over your face.

Your blood soaks into the knees of his trousers, but he barely notices the sudden warmth of it.

“You’ll be okay, you have to let them do their job. You have to let them save you. You won’t be alone,” He hopes he sounds more confident than he feels, as your eyes search his face from behind the mask - you’re looking for something, he isn’t sure what it is, so he gives you the only thing he can think of, “I promise.”

You seem satisfied enough, for a moment. And then your eyes roll back into your head, and he hears the word crashing, and a pair of hands shove him away from where you’re convulsing on the ground. One of the paramedics straddles you, his compressions so aggressive that Spencer is sure your ribs are breaking. Another, gentler, set of hands finds his shoulders, helps him up. It’s JJ. She’s saying something, something reassuring probably, but he can’t hear her for the blood rushing through his eardrums. Stuck in panic mode in this dump site turned crime scene - someone could shoot him right now and he isn’t sure he’d notice.

You’re back, for now, CPR paused long enough to slide the neon orange backboard beneath you and move you onto the gurney. You might be having the worst day of your life, but you still have a heartbeat. Though, they’re not slowing down. The chances of this day becoming your last are still sky high, surgery is the only thing that can save you now. He can only hope you stay out of it long enough for them to get you there - lest they have to drag you, kicking and screaming, into the OR.

“Reid,” Hotch’s voice pulls his attention from the paramedics bundling you into the back of the ambulance, pulls him back to planet earth, “Can you work?”

“Yes.”

There it is, the second lie.

No, no he cannot work. Oh, there’s a part of him that wants to. But, then again, there’s a part of him that was loaded into an ambulance on blue lights and sirens. He barely makes it an hour before somebody has to speak up.

“Spencer, no offence, but you’re useless right now. Why don’t you go to the hospital, keep us updated?”

It’s true, but it hurts his pride a little to know that he’s not as subtle as he thinks. The supportive hand that Dave settles on his shoulder is enough to have his eyes stinging - Spencer wiggles out of the fatherly grip. He’ll go, it makes sense to have a presence when one of their own is down. That’s what he says. Everybody knows what he means.

“I should be listed as the emergency contact, Doctor Spencer Reid?” He’s muttering as he pulls out his wallet, dumping every form of identification he has on the desk. Driving license, credit card, FBI credentials, his goddamn library card. The receptionist picks out his driving license with a sympathetic little smile, it’s clear she’s trying to calm at least some of his anxiety with her even tone as she confirms someone will be through to speak to him soon. It doesn’t help.

You looked dead, lying on the wet concrete, blood turning the puddle beside you a murky brown. Somebody would have told him if that were true. No, you must be alive. The reason nobody’s out here to speak to him means that they’re still all in the OR saving your life. Right? Hoping is dangerous, but hope he does.

Spencer has been shot, more than once. He understands the pain - the sudden ripping, tearing, excruciating sensation that sweeps over you. It doesn’t matter where the bullet hits, your whole body gets consumed by fire. He could have lived his whole life without you knowing what it feels like.

But for now, he just exists in this horrible limbo - a place where you are both alive and dead and he feels like he’s the one bleeding out on the cold concrete. He hates it, hates it. And it doesn’t matter, ultimately, that he knows you’re more than likely not making it off the table; because until somebody tells him as much, that flickering glimmer of hope that you’ll be okay will simply not go out.

There was just so much blood.

Spencer doesn’t often pray. He understands the need some might feel, the idea of faith in a higher power and a bigger plan to avoid going completely insane in an unbound universe. But he has never really felt the need. A man of science and infallible knowledge, he knows that things will work out however they please and that neither he nor anyone else - deity or otherwise - can do anything to change it. But he prays now. The same request, over and over again, in his mind. Shaky elbows resting on shaky knees, shaky hands clasped together.

Please be okay.

Please be okay.

I love you. I’m so afraid of it.

Please be okay.

He doesn’t stop praying for hours. Not when the surgeons come out to speak with him. Not when he calls Morgan to update the team, not when he stumbles blindly after a nurse down the hallways. Not when he slumps in the chair beside your bed, and not when he grasps your cold hand in both of his.

“Lousy shot.” Your voice is hoarse, but it’s there. You’re there.

“What was that?” Spencer heard you, he always does, but the anxiety still coursing through his veins needs to hear you speak again - if only to make sure he isn’t hallucinating.

“I said he was a lousy shot,” You repeat, clearing your throat as you crack your eyes open against the bright white of the hospital room, “If you’re gonna kill me, kill me, don’t half ass it.”

You argue with him when the nurse comes in, the request to withdraw all narcotic medication raises every set of eyebrows in the room - except yours. You’re adamant about keeping a promise to a friend, you know it’ll hurt, you’re ready. And the look you give Spencer, when he suggests that your friend might let this one slide, could turn anybody to stone. Stubborn as a mule. It’s one of his favourite things about you. Well, it is when you’re not wincing with every breath you take.

“Don’t get shot again.” It’s been quiet for a little while, his hands still cradling yours. He squeezes your fingers as much as he dares with his whispered words.

“Can’t promise that, sweetheart, bit of an occupational hazard.”

It’s the first smile to crack his lips since the drive out to the dump site this morning. Or maybe it was yesterday morning now; he’s not sure. A callback to a dumb joke he once made, the first time he was the one laid up in a hospital bed with a bullet wound.

There’s a moment, where there’s something else to say. You both know what it is, but neither of you can let it break containment. So you let it hang there in the air between you. The way it has for years, maybe the way it always will. Until one of you, at least, gets brave enough.

And then Penelope appears in the doorway, misty eyed and flanked by the others in a swarm of Get Well balloons, and it’s gone. Floated out of the window on a cool breeze. Not forever, just until you’re both ready. But you know, and he knows, and so does everybody else.

every time i have to change my work password i just use the long form date that i changed it and now i have to write the day my fav f1 driver got sacked every morning for the next 6 months this is so much fun

[bullet-prooflove]

5000 Follower Celebration: Postcards From My Heart - Terry Silver x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thedeadsingforme @eddieslut69 @mia1653 @kimbergoldess

Companion piece to:

Attention - Terry hasn't been paying you enough attention.

Distance - Terry and you struggle with emotional distance as the embezzlement case continues.

Prequel to:

Twenty Four Hours - You come home from your trip to spend 24 hours with your husband.

The embezzlement investigation takes hold when Terry reports the crime to the FBI. He’s spent months trying to untangle it on his own and now it’s gotten to the point where he’s forced to hand over all the details to the authorities or risk looking complicit.

The unfortunate part to all of this is that he has to make himself available to investigators, which means he has to stay in the city while you undertake the gallery tour across Europe you’ve had planned for over a year now.

Ever since the exhibition with the paper airplanes went viral, galleries from around the world have been requesting both you and your artwork’s presence at their venues. They want to discuss the programs you’ve been undertaking and how to implement them in their own locations whilst showcasing your paintings.

You end up going alone and it kills Terry because things between the two of you, they’re still not entirely right after the night you asked him if he was seeing someone else. He’s tried to be more attentive but the embezzlement it’s eating up both his time and his energy. He doesn’t even get to see you off at the airport because he’s trapped in a meeting with federal investigators. You don’t say how much it disappoints you but he feels it viscerally as he tracks your flight right out of his orbit.

He worries that this trip, the distance between the two of you, it’ll be the thing that kills your marriage especially when he misses three of your calls in a row over a series of days. He tries calling you back but with the time difference, you just keep missing each other.

When the postcard arrives his heart sinks, it’s an image of the small chapel where the two of you married in Tuscany. He’s filled with an intense sadness because this was the real reason he wanted to take the trip, he’d been planning to surprise you, review your vows there and then the whole thing had gotten fucked up and now you’re barely exchanging texts.  

By the time the postcard arrives from Paris you’ve been gone almost a fortnight. Terry’s eating breakfast alone, preparing for another lengthy day of depositions when the call comes through.

“Guess where I am.” You say as you appear on the screen and something in Terry’s chest just settles.

After so many missed connections he’s been dreading this call because he’s adamant it’s going to be the one where you tell him you’re done with all of this but then he sees the expression on your face and for Terry, it could light up an entire room.

“Tell me.” He urges, his voice soft and you alter the camera to show him the bench in the gallery where the two of you met. You zoom in closely and there’s a tiny heart with both of your initials drawn in the corner in black sharpie.

“Georgia,” He says fondly. “Did you deface a bench in the Louvre?”

“I’m hoping they kinda take it like a Banksy.” You tell him before turning the camera back so he can see your face. “You know how he just turns up, graffitis something and then disappears. I’ve been doing it everywhere we’ve been together on this trip. I even tagged the church.”

“You did not!” He smiles because he realises what you’ve been doing whilst you’ve been on tour, you’ve been marking your relationship, making it indelible. He can’t describe how that makes him feel, to know that you’ve been thinking about him, that you’ve been leaving the evidence of your marriage on landmarks all around the world.  

“I did.” You assure him. “Right on the pew you got a little handsy that time whilst we were waiting for the priest.”

“You were wearing that white sundress.” He reminds you, propping his chin up on his hand. “Can you blame me for defiling you in a church?"

You blush then, the pink tinge climbing your cheeks because he’d made you come on his fingers on that pew, it had been embarrassingly easy because you’d gotten off on the deviance of it all.

“You look tired.” You say quietly as you settle yourself on the bench. “How are the depositions going?”

“Monotonous.” He tells you with a weary smile. “I feel like it’s taken ten years off my life.”

“Do you need me to come home?” You ask him, the concern evident in your features. “I’m sure there’s a flight I could grab…”

The fact you’re willing to cut this trip short if he needs it, it speaks volumes about your headspace about the relationship, just like your actions have. He can’t ask you to return to him, not when you’re doing such excellent work out there, not when you’re having so much fun.

“No baby girl, don’t come back until you’re ready.” He murmurs before he props his phone up against the salt shaker. “Now tell me more about your travels.”

Love Terry? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[leosficlist]

Bed Sharing / Room Sharing Rec List!

In combination with the For Warmth trope as well, I bring you my Johnlock favorites once again. Various points in and out of BBC canon, most involve a first time, all of them include men kissing :)

Assurance by belovedmuerto 2.3k words

It’s not so much the ‘you’re half-dead, you wanker,’ or even the broken ribs, the hairline fracture of the pelvis, the dislocated shoulder and knee, and the wrenched ankle.

notes: bedsharing under the pretense of watching over Sherlock while he's injured, slowly coming together, fluffy

Everything by patternofdefiance 4.4k

John wakes up with an armful of Sherlock. This – situation – is unusual, yes, and definitely unfamiliar, but in no way does it feel wrong. Rather, it feels the exact opposite.

notes: fluffy love filled first time

Adjacent by @weeesi 5.7k words

“Oi. I’ve just asked you twice where our bloody room is.”

Oh, John.

“Rooms, I meant. Obviously.”

The innkeeper blew his nose into his handkerchief, already sodden with the effects of the spring bloom, and shot a knowing look between the two of them. “Ta, lads. Have a good ‘un.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and spun on his heel, leaving John trailing behind him.

notes: they can't leave each other alone all night

The Cure for Snoring by Goddess_of_the_Night 1.2k

Sherlock and John spend the night in Scotland after finishing a case. The sole Inn in town only has one room left...one bed. This would be fine - if not a bit awkward - if Sherlock hadn't developed a habit of snoring loudly. John suffers through many hours of sleeplessness before he discovers that skin-to-skin contact stops the noise.

notes: gen, part of a great series

Languorous by distantstarlight 2.5k words

“Sherlock Holmes and John Watson have been through a lot but one of the things they do well together is cases. It isn't a surprise that they get called out of town but what about what happens in their hotel room?”

notes: wet dream, morning sex

Thermodynamics Series by EntangledNow 4 works, 16.5k words total

“In which there's no heating and there's a dead owl in Sherlock's bed”

notes: Sherlock keeps ending up in John’s bed, leading to getting together

The Honeymoon Suite by Salamboo6 5.8k

John nods, licking his lips and playing with the key in his hand. We’ll probably be leaving first thing in the morning, he wants to tell her. As soon as Sherlock proves who robbed the previous couple who booked a room here, we’re out of here and stopping this happily married charade. “Thank you,” he says instead.

notes: post s4ish, rosie mentioned but not involved, waking up snuggling

To Sleep, Perchance to Smother Your Flatmate With A Pillow by Linpatootie 5.3k words

Sherlock wants to conduct a sleep study of sorts. John contemplates smothering him with a pillow.

notes: part of a great series, slow coming together

A Terrific Soporific by antietamfalls 11.2k words

Sherlock, a long-time sufferer of insomnia, is forced to share a bed with John at a hotel while on a case. To his astonishment, he finds that spending the night next to John helps him sleep and becomes determined to maneuver himself back into John's bed.

Worth the Wait by englandwouldfalljohn 1k words

When a case leaves John and Sherlock stranded in a cabin in the snow, an invitation to share the only bed leaves Sherlock wanting... but not for long *winkwink*

notes: eager first time in the middle of the night

In the Morning by erebones 3.9k words

for the prompt - paula bennyslegs: someone please write sherlock and john sharing a bed because of a case… and one of them waking up to the sound of the other having a wet dream, especially if they’re saying the other persons name whilst doing it

Someone Else's Heart by thisprettywren 4.1k words

A crime scene, a rainstorm, and something they both should have known all along.

notes: getting together in a hotel room on a case, emotional first time

One Day Like This by nondeducible 4.8k

When Sherlock emerged from the bathroom, the sight before him nearly took his breath away. The only light in the room was the small lamp on the bedside table. John’s skin shone like gold, his hair like the purest silver. He was on his side, facing the empty part of the bed, his outstretched hands ready to embrace whoever climbed in next to him. Sherlock could imagine, just for a second, that this was their shared bed and he was coming back to settle into John’s arms.

Knotted by naughtyspirit 23.1k words

John has to cancel a date because of Sherlock's case, which leads them to be tied up in a basement from which they have to escape.

They get wet, get tied up close and John has to step up and save them.

Because he's pretty. And hot. And just a little bit of a BAMF.

notes: bickering, getting together, first time

Sleeping next to you by Salambo06 5k words

Based on an Anonymous Prompt :

"So, that scene from ASiB when Mrs H has been attacked by the american CIA guy & John, Sherlock & she are in Mrs H's kitchen when John says "She’ll have to sleep upstairs in our flat tonight. We need to look after her." to which Sherlock replies with "no". John of course suggested that because he cares about her safety, but maybe he also did it cause he /wanted/ that to happen. What if they finally agreed on letting her have John's or Sherlock's bed & J&S sleep in the same one?"

notes: sweet middle of the night getting together, second chapter morning after smut

[raineandsky]

#73

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11)

tw: blood

The late shift was never particularly kind to the villain. It’s when villains are the most active���and so the heroes are more so too. The cover of night is meant to make crime easier, but the heroes are out in droves at this time and the cover of night turns out to, actually, not cover shit.

Their front door clanks shut behind them, a relieved sigh slipping from their lips. Their eyes trace down the hall—to their bedroom, hell yes—and catch their kitchen door swinging shut.

The evening’s tiredness is evaporated in a second. The villain’s hand is inside their coat on instinct, the feeling of the well-loved knife hilt in their hand a much-needed comfort as they start down the hall.

They push the door open slowly, wishing that they oiled its hinges last week. They peer inside from the safety of the hallway—there’s… nothing in there. It’s just as they left it this afternoon. Except, no, wait—

There’s a handprint on their windowsill. Shiny, still wet, and crimson red.

Invisibility is a habit by now. They glide through the kitchen quietly, their footsteps practised, their coat blending them into the gloom, to glance down at the blood staining the wood. They look outside, back in, across the kitchen. What the– this bitch has been in their fridge.

They open it, letting the light blind them momentarily. Well, there’s a lot of food they’re going to have to throw out now. Specks of blood taint most of this. They glance back, the yellowing light brightening the room and their face, and they hear a very muffled, presumably very unintentional, “shit”.

The fridge slams shut and sinks the room back into darkness. There’s a red trail trickled over the tile floor, leading straight to their pantry.

The villain adjusts their knife in their grasp, creeping towards the little cupboard. They pause outside, heaving a heavy sigh in preparation before tugging the door out and thrusting their blade into the darkness beyond. 

“This is no place for a petty thief,” they say whilst their eyes adjust. It’s darker in there without the streetlamps outside invading. “I’m giving you a chance to get out before I cut you to shreds.”

Someone squeaks from inside. “P–Please don’t!” they cry, and the villain squints suspiciously. They can just see the figure of the person pressed into the back of their pantry.

They fumble for the light switch, showering the tiny room in dull light. Of all people the villain expected to rob them, well, they weren’t really expecting to see—

“[Hero]?” they demand incredulously, and the hero winces. They squeak again when the villain gets the mind to shove their knife against their throat. “How the hell do you know where I live?”

“I– I don’t!” the hero cries. “I didn’t know you lived here, I swear!”

The villain narrows their eyes disbelievingly. “So, what? You break into people’s houses now? Doesn’t sound very agency-friendly.”

The hero’s eyes nervously slip to the bloodstained fridge behind them. “I– I’m hiding.”

An admission of weakness. They’re hiding.

Sirens shriek outside. Blue and red dance merrily on the ceiling. “From what?”

“From [Superhero].”

From the superhero. The villain doesn’t doubt that they’re hiding. The hero looks terrified—though they do have a knife slowly drawing blood at their throat, they suppose. But from the superhero?

“Why?”

The hero swallows nervously. They won’t meet the villain’s eye. “I did something wrong,” they say quietly. “Really wrong. [Superhero]’s practically out for my blood now. I can’t be trusted.”

The sound that comes out of the hero is either a laugh or a sob. It’s hard to tell. “So you’re hiding from him,” the villain finishes.

The hero nods before they remember the blade resting on their skin. “Yeah.”

“And so you’re hiding… in my pantry.”

“... Yeah.”

“And you helped yourself to some of my fridge.”

The hero has the decency to flush in embarrassment. “I’ll replace it. I was desperate.”

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you right now,” the villain says lowly, “or throw you back into the street.”

Clearly the hero didn’t think this far. They lick their lips, their wide-eyed gaze finally meeting the suspicious squint of the villain’s. “I can– I could do something for you?”

“You dying would do me a great favour.”

The hero swallows again, and their stare turns nervously outward again. “I– I don’t know. I don’t have any of my weapons, I’m not dangerous.”

“You get in fist fights.”

“I usually lose those.”

The hero laughs, the sound taut with anxiety. The villain leans away from them slightly, letting their blade sit a little lighter on them. “I have an idea,” they say flatly.

“Yeah,” the hero says instantly.

“I need a maid.” The hero’s face falls slightly at the wording, and the villain grins ecstatically. “I have the clothes. You work on my whim, without snooping, and you can sleep on the sofa.”

“Isn’t there anything less humiliating I could do?” they ask quietly. God no, the villain thinks. The humiliation is part of the fun.

“I could let you stay in my basement,” they offer pointedly, and the hero grimaces, “if you’re so attached to the clothes you’re wearing.”

Sirens whoop outside. The villain glances at the blood trails on the floor. “I’m going to clean this up before your friends inevitably bust the door down,” they say. “We can talk business when I get rid of them. Stay in there. If I so much as hear from you, they can have you. Got it?”

The hero nods numbly. “Yeah.”

And with that, the villain flicks the light off and slams the door on them.

Cleaning is easy enough, though they’ll need to mop later—or the hero will. They turn over a few pieces of furniture, drag a few drawers open, and then they casually let themself out the front door with a giant, full backpack.

The police are exactly where they wanted them. They spot the villain halfway out of the garden.

“Thief!” one of them cries. “Stop in the name of the law!”

The villain turns on their heel and bolts for the back of the house.

This part is easy. Lose the police in the city, wait for them to clear out from their house, loop back home. They’ll never suspect that the villain lives there. God, they’d have some problems if they did.

The next part is the fun one. They have a hero to blackmail—and by god, are they going to use that to their advantage.

Next part

[stargirlfeyre]

You can tell the type of person someone is based on how they react to Lucien’s friendship with Tamlin.

There are typically two reactions people have when realizing that their friends are morally fucked up individuals.

They either A: Cut all ties with them because friendships are not worth losing your standards and morals over.

Or they B: Defend that friend simply because they are friends. They know that their actions are wrong and they know that what they’re doing isn’t acceptable. Yet they still stick beside him/her because of that bond. It’s a “yeah you’re hurting people but you’re someone I care about so I’m not really going to hold you accountable for it” mindset. It’s a coward’s mindset.

Given how much Lucien’s fans defend his actions, which one do you think they’ve adopted?

There is something so sinister about justifying Lucien’s enabling of an abuser simply because that abuse has known him and has done more for him than the person being abused. If you stand by your friend whilst they commit literal crimes against women then I mean this whole heartedly, you are just as bad as them. Having this sense of blind loyalty towards someone to the point that you put your bond above morals makes you a terrible person.

I don’t care how long Lucien has known Tamlin. I don’t care how Tamlin has saved or helped him. Once he saw Tamlin start to physically hurt Feyre he should have known that his actions had gone too far. Once he saw Tamlin almost murder her he should have known that his actions had gone too far. Once he saw Tamlin walk away whilst Feyre had a panic attack and begged him to let her out of the house he should have known that his actions had gone too far. But he didn’t. He had a first hand account to all of these instances and yet Lucien still holds out hope that he will one day reunite with Tamlin and they will run off into fields of flowers together holding hands.

And his fandoms doesn’t see a problem with it because to them, it makes sense that Lucien would have this undying loyalty towards Tamlin despite everything he has done. Because the amount of time you have know someone trumps all else.

Let me put it this way.

If you have a friend who you have known for a long time that raped someone, would you still stick beside them? Would you defend them against all else simply because of your preconceived bond with them? Would you forgo all semblance of deceny, morals, humanity, and self-respect for them?

I am being so serious when I say I genuinely fear for the people in your lives if you think turning a blind eye to domestic violence is justifiable if the aggressor is someone you know.

[xoxoavenger]

Heya! Can I please request Jack Thompson x fem!reader where they both don’t like each other or get along very well but on rare occasions they joke around/agree with each other. Reader is also usually very cool, calm and collected however they go on a mission where they need to act like a couple and infiltrate some type of crime organisation. Whilst they’re meeting with the organisation bosses for dinner to discuss ‘joining’ (maybe they have microphones on to record the cony as proof or something), some of the bosses start making creepy offhand comments about reader (misogynistic, maybe alluding to trafficking her or making her a stripper or something. Idk you can decide) which sets reader on edge and makes her tense. Jack also gets uncomfortable and starts being protective and subtly comforts/grounds reader whilst trying not to blow their cover.

hi, I hope this is what you were looking for! thanks for requesting <3

Start Something

pairing: Jack Thompson x Fem!Reader

word count: 1877

warnings: non-graphic death (minor), not proof-read (sorry)

masterlist request something for the 12 Days of Christmas!

"L/N!" Jack Thompson's voice rang out through the bullpen, and the girl in question hung her head at her desk. She had been in the middle of writing a report, one that she knew the Chief was going to complain about it if she didn't have it done by the end of the day. She really didn't have time for him to call her into the office to go over some stupid case that he could ask literally any other agent about. He was doing it to spite her.

"Yes, Chief?" She asks with a smile, just like she always does. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

"My office?" He suggests, as if it were obvious. She wants to punch him, but she just leaves her work, knowing she's going to have to stay late tonight and it's going to suck. She walks across the bullpen, heels clicking against the floor in time with the typing of all the other agents acting like they were doing work and not totally going to listen in on her conversation.

"What is it, Chief?" She asks as she shuts the door behind her.

"You don't have to call me that." Jack tells her, and she doesn't respond to this.

"What do you need?" She doesn't ask it unkindly, but she makes it clear she's only there for business.

"Your input." Jack turns the papers over to her, and she slips into the seat across from him desk. She's pretty sure it's only there for her, because she's the only person who ever stays in his office long enough to sit. "Coffee?" He asks, turning in his chair towards the machine he has on the small cart in his office.

"Yes," She sighs out when she sees how long the papers are. "Two creams, three-"

"Three sugars, yeah." Jack says with a smirk, and Y/N rolls her eyes.

"I can take these back to my desk." She offers with a sardonic smile, and he just frowns.

"I need your live input. If we need to go on a mission, it's gonna have to happen soon." He stirs her coffee, and she takes the mug from his hands.

"So, this guy, Booker, it seems like his only weakness is his wife? All these guys he's killed, the common theme has been threats to Emiliana." She flips through the pages of Henry Booker, the mobster who seemed to be at the top of the crime ring Jack was trying to bust.

"Antonio Colombo has the same deal." Jack nods, sitting down in his seat with a fresh cup of coffee. "His wife, Beatrice, she actually seems to be helping him." Jack pulls the paper of the second mobster out, and Y/N pulls some coffee slowly through her lips.

"What about Beau Martin?" She pulls out the page at the bottom, and scans it. She finds the same thing, that his wife Julia is living in her pretty penthouse while Beau is killing everyone around them. These three mobsters have created a circle so tight, that once you're in the only escape is death. The Germans are selling the drugs, the Italians are providing jobs (the only ones these addicts can get now), and then the French, who are either taking them out or sending them back through the cycle. It's the French who are the most dangerous, who have the most blood on their hands.

"We need to end this soon." Y/N sits back with her mug, feeling tired after just reading the papers.

"No kidding." Jack responds, wiping a hand across his face. "Any ideas?"

"Well, they seem to really love their wives. So, if we can figure out some sort of event they'll all be at, maybe we can take them out. Cut off the head." She suggests with a shrug, as if she's not suggesting that the two of them infiltrate and kill the biggest mobsters in New York.

"We'd need a lot of back up." Jack tells her, and she nods. "The two of us will have to distract them."

"It'll be dangerous." She says, taking another drink of her coffee. It's almost out, so she quickly finishes the last of it and puts it down on the desk. "How would we even get in?"

"Well, that's the easy part." Jack says with a smirk. "We're going to be a mobster and his wife." Y/N gives this a moment to sink in.

"Absolutely not." She stands, and he rises with her.

"Why, because you hate me? We've gotta get over that at some point, Y/N." He says, and she shakes her head.

"Not only is this an insanely dangerous mission, but we'd have to act like we don't hate each other. And it'd have to be convincing enough that actual mobsters won't be able to catch on."

"I don't hate you." He says, and she wants to throttle him.

"I don't have time to go over all the reasons why I disagree with that statement. The point is, we'd have to play a convincing couple. And we'd have to do it soon. And it's in a mobster den. We don't even know how much backup we'd need to get in there." She rants, heart racing as she thinks about how hard this mission is going to be.

"That's why I need your help. We have to get this figured out, and we have to get it soon." Y/N knows she's not going home early tonight, and she's not getting back to the report she had been writing.

"Alright." She breathes out, nodding. "I guess we're going ring shopping."

~

"Mr. and Mrs. Adler. So glad to meet you." Henry Booker, the top of the fucking mob food chain, is smirking at the two of them. Y/N smiles, silently congratulating herself when she doesn't flinch at Jack's hand on her back.

"We've been trying to set this meeting up for ages, it feels." Jack says with a smile, taking a quick glance around the room. He spots a couple of his agents milling about, which is good, because he's suer this time could go south immediately.

"Well, we've been busy." Antonio Colombo says unkindly, causing shivers to run up Y/N's arms. She's wearing a low cut dress, back and front, and the heels she's in are probably higher than any she's ever walked in. Jack offers her his arm as they begin to move, and she takes it gratefully.

"As you have been, I'm sure." The lady next to Antonio says, and Y/N's sure it's Beatrice, his wife.

"I've never heard of you, though, Adler." Beau Martin says, clucking his tongue. "Where did you say you were from?"

"Chicago." Jack answers, and Y/N just keeps the smile on, like she's been instructed to do. She helped design this mission, and all she has to do is not fuck it up.

"Huh," Antonio says, and Y/N wishes there was a way to somehow get the wives away from this place. As soon as they're out of the picture, the team can take out the mobsters and then everything will be fine.

Y/N's heart is racing.

"Well, I'm starving." Beau says, and they all head to the main table. It's clear that everyone else around them is only there because they have to be, that her and Jack are the main attraction.

"Right over here, then." Julia smiles, and Beau pulls out her chair of her. Jack does the same for Y/N, and she smiles at him and thanks him quietly.

"Why don't you three go make sure all the food is good?" Henry suggests, and the three wives nod and head out. Now is their chance. They just have to get a good shot.

Y/N wishes she could hear them, but Jack and her couldn't risk them seeing the ear pieces. They were in the dark, having to play their parts and wait. They just couldn't blow their covers.

"Mrs. Adler, would you like to go with them?" Antonio asked, and Y/N did not like the gleam in his eye.

"I'd feel more comfortable here. I'm sure you understand." She answers with a smile, trying to be as nice as possible.

"Alright," Henry says, small smirk on his face. "Well, we tried." He looks to the boys, who all have disgusting looks on their faces.

"Where'd you get that dress? I think Julia could use something that make her girls look that good." Beau looks down at Y/N's chest, and she blinks as she fights the urge to pull the dress up.

"Excuse me?" Jack chokes out, and Y/N breathes deeply, trying not to blow their cover.

"A boutique in Chicago." She says softly, trying to keep a smile on her face.

"Man, Adler, I don't know how you're keeping your hands to yourself right now. If she was my girl, I wouldn't even let her sit in her own chair." Henry takes a drink of the whiskey that had been poured before they had even gotten to the table, and Y/N's lips parted before she could think to keep the smile on her face.

"Good self control." Jack is grabbing his own drink, white knuckling it as he tries to keep from jumping across the table and hitting these guys.

"That can't be your only secret." Henry smirks, and Y/N finally looks over to see Jack grinding his jaw. He looks angry, really angry, and Y/N grabs his hand.

"When you've been together as long as we have, there's no reason to rush things." Y/N says calmly, wanting to move on.

"And just how long have you been together?" Antonio asks, tilting his head. "Because it looks like you came straight out of the burlesque." Y/N flinches, not sure what to say. Jack squeezes her hand, then looks around. It's now or never, and they don't want the wives to come back.

"I'm just saying, if you gave me a couple hours, even one, alone, Adler." Beau says, which makes the rest of them laugh and raise their glasses. Y/N wants to throw up, because here these men are, acting like she doesn't exist, like she is a piece of meat. She feels sick, and her face must show it, because Jack squeezes her hand even tighter. They're so close, they can't blow their cover now.

"And I'm sure Julia would love that." Jack says with the tilt of his head, causing everyone else to stop their laughs. Y/N can't help but jump when the first shot rings out, and then the next two in quick succession. Antonio had been sitting closest to her, and his blood splatters against her arm. She can barely register it, however, because Jack is grabbing her and holding her close, head tucked into his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" He whispers, only pulling back to look at her face. He takes his jacket off, putting it around her body.

"I'm okay." She says quietly, letting him take her into his arms again. "Take me out of here?" She asks, and when he puts his arm around her shoulder and pulls her in to lead her out of the club, which is now in a frenzy, she knows something has changed between them.

And she kind of likes it. 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover

[konigsblog]

Ok we know about cat!reader but what about cow!reader? My personal origin story for this is that you somehow got caught up in some flavor of crime because you had no other way to survive and got interrogated by the 141. Originally they thought worst case scenario they could kill you and move on, but once they realize you’re a cow and you could be used for milk and breeding?? They tell you that in exchange for information they’ll give you protection and freedom (not totally a lie) but then they take you to the barracks and basically make you their pet. Awwing and cooing at how cute you are with your tail and little horns and soft fluffy ears. And the reader eating that shit up because they’ve never been loved like that before 💔💔💔 the boys would be sweet enough to wait to fuck you though. They’d wait until you were comfortable to even help milk you. They’re all just so sweet and kind to you, they don’t know what you’ve been through but they know that it’s their job to keep their new pet safe and happy, even if that means fucking their fists for weeks until you’re ready ❤️❤️❤️❤️

🪤

their little calf so desperate for attention and their lengthy and fat cocks:(((;

price holding your horns, fat cock stuffed inside your wet and tight hole, unused hole starting to stretch out to fit fat and girthy dick, throbbing fat length stuffed inside you. :((

soap making your ride him, his hands behind his head and smirking down at you - watching as you grasped at him, desperate for attention and release, bouncing of his fat, leaking cock. tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. each thrust had you moaning and whimpering, his hair being tugged on by your claws. :((

ghost having you suck him off. lazily lowering your head onto his cock, reaching his base and inhaling his musky and sweaty pubes. bopping your head on him, his hands pushing you further whilst he threw his head back, pleasure and escasty taking over his body, cock twitching and filling your mouth with potent semen.

gaz sucking on your nipples, seeing the milk drip down your body. thighs rubbed together when arousal pooled in your lower regions, pulsing and clenching around nothing before he added a digit into you - his lips still wrapped around your hardened nips.

:(( addicted to the taste you provided, your cunny wet and soaked, adding another digit, pumping inside you before he eased his heavy, large cock inside you, stuffing you full of him.

[dragonfly0808]

Musa’s Discography Pt. 1

Yes, I spend way too long thinking about stuff like this about my characters leave me alone ajajajjaaa

But srly like 2 people have asked me about this and I’ve spent way too long thinking about what Musa discography would actually be like so… here is her discography with a way too detailed description of why I chose each of the songs, I had way too much fun with this.

First EP. Written in the later half of s2 and before s3 published in the summer between s2 and s3

I had no specific ‘theme’ for this one, just songs I felt fit Musa’s mentality and would be cool for her first project

For the first EP, which consists of:

The Beginning by Madison Beer.

I just really love this intro it’s a gorgeous showcase of vocals and it’s beautiful and perfect.

I Hate the Way by Sofia Carson.

I love this song. Musa would base if mostly off of Riven’s epic screw up in s2 ch27. Also the guitar solo part feels perfect for her.

Whispers by Halsey.

I can’t quite explain why but this song is so Musa-coded to me. At least my version of her. She builds walls up and tries to not care and fails miserably every time. Also touches slightly on the depression that she def never adressed before going to Alfea and meeting the girls

Run and Hide by Sabrina Carpenter.

I feel like this song fits Musa’s mentality in s1 and part of s2 perfectly especially when it comes to romantic love. ‘Started thinking love’s a loaded gun, nobody wants to fight’ ‘If you can’t hide run, if you can’t run hide’ ‘I don’t wanna run I don’t wanna hide’ it’s just perfect for how she used to think and I really love the idea of her writing this precisely as she starts to let go of that mentality

favorite crime by Olivia Rodrigo.

This would be a more story-telling type song written with Helia cause I feel like putting those two together they would absolutely go full story tellers and poem-like lyrics and this feels like smth they would absolutely write one night they couldn’t sleep cause they love a good sob love story

Ribs by Lorde.

Written about the Winx and the Specialists with a sprinkle of dreading growing up

Second EP. Written during the first half of s3, published right before Winter Break

This one did have a slight ‘theme’ to it since it was mostly written while she was fighting with Riven over secrets on both sides and she was very frustrated with herself and projecting a bit on him.

Hard to Love by Rose.

This feels very Musa-coded to me. She has that instinct of ‘oh shoot I’m loved? Fucking run for the hills!’ But more like… again, she builds walls. So I can see her writing this one night very frustrated with herself like, why am I like this?

Rock Bottom by Hailee Steinfeld.

I love this song and I feel like it suits Rivusa so perfectly in the first half of s3 ‘We’re on the right side of rock bottom and I hope that we keep falling. We’re on the good side of bad karma, cause we keep on coming back for more. We’re on the right side of rock bottom, and to you I just keep crawling. You’re the best kind of bad smth, cause we keep on coming back for more.’ Literally them at this point before they learn to properly communicate. Also ‘what are we fighting for? Seems like we do it just for fun.’ Love this song

Monster in Me by Little Mix.

Another song that suits them when they’re at rock bottom. ‘Touch me, why don’t we kill each other slowly?’ ‘The monster in me loves the monster in you’. Def can see Musa writing this when she’s frustrated with herself and Riv cause she knows why they’re both screwed up but can’t quite figure out how to get past it

when the party’s over by Billie Eilish.

This was when, for a moment Musa considered just calling it quits cause she wonders if maybe they’re both too fucked up to make it work and she wrote this whilst in depression. She also realized that she was hurting him by picking fights and not being honest and wrote this in response to that realization

Midnight Rain by Taylor Swift.

This one was also co-written by Helia, they went for another story-telling not-to-be love story.

False God by Taylor Swift.

Another song that feels oh so Rivusa-coded to me. Like, cmon this is one of those songs that played in the back of my head every single time I had them argue in s3 and feels like the perfect song to end an album all about fighting the one you love

Winx Rewrite Masterlist

Part 2

[pouringmyheartoutforpaper]

dove x steve. honestly not as proofread as it should be. i dont feel amazing about this but i needed to get it put out for you guys <3 i might go back and make edits at some point. anyways… next chapter will be smutty exciting ! 💋

“Hey there, beautiful.” Despite his smooth words, his cheeks are tinted pink and his eyes are the size of the moon. You giggle back at him. But the words that come out of your mouth next are soft and surprised, almost shocked.

“Are those for me?” Your gaze flips back up at him, full of wonder.

“Oh, no hun. I brought these for the cat.” He gestures to your feline friend that has made its way around Steve’s ankles. “Of course they’re for you. Who would show up to a date with you and not bring your favorite flower? That’s a crime, baby.”

Heat floods your cheeks and your heart swells. You take them from his outstretched hand and pull them to your chest.

“Thank you Stevie.”

Steve takes in your appearance, admiring the way your dress hangs and how your lipstick brings out the color in your cheeks.

“Course, honey.” And his cheeks burn brighter when you kiss his cheek.

You invite him inside whilst you put the roses into a vase. He's grinning at you the whole time, showing off his teeth that seem to sparkle in the sunlight. You can't help but notice how the warm rays of the sunset shining through the windows make his skin appear to glow, casting a golden hue across the room. You take a deep breath and inhale the sweet aroma of the freshly picked roses. As you place the vase on the kitchen table, you turn to him. His hand reaching for yours.

The sunlight hits your face in the passengers seat of his car. He had opened the door for you and helped you inside. You wondered if he knew how nice that was. You’re laughing with him now, and everything just feels so easy. He’s telling some story about Robin at work yesterday, but you're more focused on the way his eyes are lighting up.

“How are you feeling, dove?”

You grin back at him. “I’m so happy.”

The diner is nice. Steve had definitely made reservations beforehand, and had to be paying a considerable amount based on how nice the staff was.

“Do you like these crunchy breadsticks?” He voices.

A laugh bubbles out if your mouth.

“What? I don’t get it. Like- this is just a fancy pretzel.”

“You’re not wrong… give me it.”

Steve gazes at you the entire night. Your eyes are his favorite part of you. And despite the surroundings you’re in, playing footsies with him under the table feels more like home than ever. Steve Harrington is like human honey. Impossibly sweet, and impossible to get off once you’ve had some. His eyes, his skin, his hair, all honey and hazelnut. Pure human sunshine. Your eyes fall down to his hands more than once throughout the duration of the dinner, making you blush and turn away. He can read you like a book though. If you only knew how he had been memorizing every curve on your body, you wouldn’t feel as flustered. But, he quickly pushes those thoughts aside for later, not wanting to screw up right now.

“You’re so beautiful, Dove.”

Your eyes widen. Heart racing and heat rushing to your cheeks. Which only makes him more smug. And that much more in love.

“Thank you, Steve. I think you’re pretty beautiful too.”

It’s his turn to blush now.

“Let me take you home, sweetheart.”

The car ride back was suspended in honey. Sweet, perfect, and healing. Lovely. Really, lovely.

He helps you out of your seat, grabbing your purse for you and leading you up to your front door with a hand on your back.

“So, how’d I do? Scale of 1-10? Leave a review?”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“You could’ve done anything and I would have loved it.”

He looks at you and softens, eyes turning into puddles of black adoration.

“I really don't want to freak you out. But I can’t hide how i feel with you. I promise you don't have to say anything back, I don't expect you to. I just want you to know that I fell in love with you the second I saw you. You make me so happy, and you make me feel like myself. And I will do anything I can to keep you in my life.”

He was breathing heavily, and his face was bright red, he looked almost sick with how nervous he was. You gaped at him. And then leaned in.

He relaxes as soon as your lips touch. It’s a soft kiss. A soft, but passionate kiss that says so much. His hands are cupping your cheeks, and you break the kiss by smiling too much to continue.

“I love you Steve Harrington. Please be mine.”

He fights everything in him to not tear up. He’s never felt this loved in his entire life.

“I’m yours. I’m always yours.”

“Good, cause i’ve always been yours. I’m just wondering if this is the part where I ask if I can be your girlfriend. Or maybe everyone evolved past that in middle school.”

“Please, yes, you can.” He grabs you again, kissing you harder this time. Holding onto you so tightly like he wont ever let go.

[restlesssinner]

Things I noticed watching Bullet Train a second time at home so my family could see the movie too (spoilers):

Tangerine tells lemon to wear a vest to protect his chest and lemon says it gives people a false security cause you can still get shot in the neck; lemon gets shot in the chest and lives BUT LATER tangerine gets shot in the neck and dies

The first time I watched it my heart was shredded by Dominic Lewis’ cover of bubbles that plays when lemon finds tangerine’s “corpse” (I’m DL’s #1 Spotify listener, he also worked on OSTs for violent night and spirited this year) but the song also plays when the brothers are counting their kills in its original form and in a rock cover when they slow-no walk to find the thief

Ladybug has bad luck but not only does little prince constantly talk about good luck but her father does too, seeing how he keeps forcing and winning Russian roulette on his enemies

Ladybug has long hair and a beard, looks homeless and is forced to face all the misfortunes of the world so that others can rest in peace, and for once it’s nice to see a Jesus allegory that isn’t shoved in our faces by the movie

The elder and the white death both worked under the same boss, both lost their wives, both have two descendants one of which is affiliated with crime and another which is kidnapped to get to their parent; the prior spent most of the movie in the same scenes

“He shot my brother” “you shot my son” both of these where also caused by little prince manipulating the shooter into thinking they’re the victim

The nurse that kills the child’s assassin is in the background of every shot showing the assassin

Almost no one in the movie is known by their real names but by symbolic nicknames: even agent carver alludes to an assassin with butcher-like instincts

In the bottle flashback you can see lemon and tangerine changing clothes from their countdown scene to the ones they wear on the bullet train

First ladybug pretends to be tangerine’s twin and later lemon taunts him as not being a replacement to his brother

Lemon says Logan Lerman’s character looks like a “Percy” alluding to his famous PJO role

The wolf’s envelope is shown earlier when ladybug searches his coat for a gun and has to exes to represent cartoon dead eyes and two suspects that were at the wedding undercover: ladybug and hornet. The contrast between these two is shown by how one kills the conductor to steal their clothing whilst the other pays bisexual icon Channing Tatum to exchange clothes

I might be dumb but I realized that the Wild West stand off between hornet and ladybug was also her waiting to see if he succumbs to the poison in thirty seconds

Lemon tells an old lady she is fucking excused and ladybug later tells the same lady to eat a bag of dicks

Tangerine is at first suspicious of little prince because he knows all the seats were sold out by the white death but that knowledge dies with him

I still don’t know how the elder psychically knows his son is fine can someone please tell me if they know

I swear this is my favorite movie after EEAAO there’s so much rich detail even it has to remind the audiences by re-showing earlier scenes it literally made me forgive Brad Pitt for straight washing Troy I watched it in cinemas just cause I didn’t feel like waiting for the movie I went to watch without planning it and I hope this artistic masterpiece is never forgotten in the corridors of cinema history if there’s anything more you can think off feel free to add your thoughts

[resident-gay-bitch]

Azkaban AU

Ooo this is my newest wip I think :)

As always, it started with the intention of being a depressing one shot but nope, I’m turning it into a multichap :)

Basically, it starts from Sirius’ second year in Azkaban, it’s from his point of view and really kinda shows his suffering whilst in there. It spans over the 12 years, but there are a lot of time jumps because like, twelve years is a long time to be trapped in one room.

There’s only one person he can talk to, who’s trapped on the other side of his cell with bars to divide them. They have stone walls on the other sides so it’s really just them. And that person is Barty.

Barty didn’t talk to him or even look at him for the first year, and Sirius silently started to drive himself insane with the silence. It’s not until Peter sneaks into the prison and pays Sirius on the one year anniversary of James and Lilys death that Barty starts to talk to him.

Mostly, Barty just chatters and Sirius ignores him. But it helps them both to keep their sanity. He tosses Sirius stones every so often too, when he runs out of his own, to keep track of the days spent in there on the walls.

After a while they start talking more deeply. Barty asks why Sirius always cries on the full moons and Sirius asks why Barty never even looked at him for so long. Sirius of course doesn’t say the whole truth, but Barty confesses it’s because Sirius looks too much like Regulus and it hurts to look at him.

They spend a lot of time talking about Regulus, mostly about Regulus, but as the years go by they start confessing more and more secrets. Like that Barty was in love with Regulus, and that Sirius was in love with a werewolf blah blah blah. Because they both think they’re never getting out, they’ll never talk to anyone else, why not say these things?

THIS WAS NOT THE DIRECTION I INTENDED IT TO GO IN BUT ITS GOING THIS WAY: over time the years start to blur and they get so comfortable only knowing eachother that they start confusing stability, familiarity, and companionship for love. They get so attached to eachother that they begin to fall in love. For Barty, Sirius is the Regulus he never got to have. For Sirius, Barty is the one person who didn’t believe Sirius could have turned on the Potters just because he’s a Black. They rely on eachother.

And then Sirius breaks out, because he drives himself mad just thinking about Harry. And it’s strange, not being around Barty every day, it makes him feel kind of nauseous, but he moves past it for Harry’s sake.

Once he’s laying low, back with Remus, is when he really starts to feel like a part of him is missing. He doesn’t understand why. He’s got Harry back in his life, and Remus, the man he’s supposed to love, but he misses Barty. He of course, never tells anyone this. He doesn’t even tell anyone he was Barty’s cellmate.

He ignores it, doesn’t think about it, doesn’t worry about it. He “forgets” Barty. He feels guilty about it. In Azkaban the lines are blurred, there’s no difference between the innocent and the guilty because they’re all suffering the same fate. Morals are not important when your sanity is at stake.

But out in the real world Sirius is reminded of who Barty is, and what he’s done, and who he loyally serves. He hates himself for telling Barty everything he did, he worries about it, he feels guilt for pretending Barty’s crimes didn’t matter. But he misses him, still, and that’s the worst part.

It’s not until they’re fighting, right before the veil, when Bellatrix aims her wand at Sirius with the intention to kill, that Barty of all people kills her first.

And, well, that catches a few people’s eye. Everyone’s eye, actually. Especially when Sirius and Barty just kinda stop and stare at eachother in a really weird way. Like, in the way that Sirius always used to stare at Remus.

I’m actually so excited for this fic honestly because it’s gonna really delve into Sirius’ conscience and morals. He’s gonna be questioning his every move and thought. He’s gonna go utterly insane in there. Everywhere.

Dunno exactly how it’s gonna end yet, I’m gonna go purely on vibes once I write the bulk of it and probably lean towards what the GA is rooting for, but who knows :))

[bullet-prooflove]

Lifeline - Brendon Acres x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989

You’re a forger.

An exceptional one.

It’s the reason the FBI leveraged you into working with them in the first place. One slip and you go to prison, that’s the deal.

The agents in Art Crimes, they don’t trust you, they challenge your observations, belittle your insights. They treat you like a secretary, filling in their paperwork, sifting through tips. He hears the distain when they speak to you, like you’re beneath them, worthless.

You’re as polite as you can be, you know that each and every one of them holds your life in their hands. If you snap back, piss one of them off, it’s over and they know it.

Whilst he can’t understand the situation you’re in, he can empathise. He knows what it’s like to have your life controlled by someone else, to have no agency. His entire acting career was based on the dreams of his father, he lived within the confines of that for such a long time before he broke out and tried to forge his own path. He wasn’t living until he joined the FBI.

He sees the restlessness in you, the constant pacing, the tapping of your fingertips on the desk, the monotony, it’s killing you. He knows what happens next, you go back to what you know, the thing that brings you excitement. For him it was drinking, for you it’s forging. He’s found something to fill that gap but you don’t have that luxury.

He can tell you’re close to breaking point. You’ve already started to push the boundaries. When Hendricks scoffs at your suggestion that the painting they’re evaluating isn’t real, you don’t ignore it this time. You spend five minutes aggressively explaining the intricacies of the piece before he tears you a new one in front of the entire floor. The humiliation of it, it’s cruel, even for a man like him. You can’t storm out, tell him to go fuck himself so instead you sit down at your lonely desk in the darkest corner and put your headphones on. You’re a hair’s breadth from hurtling over the edge, he can feel it.

That’s the reason he goes to bat for you with Garza when they take on a museum heist. He thinks the challenge will engage you, ignite that passion again. It’ll get you out of Art Crimes for a couple of days and around some likeminded people. His whole squad is made up of misfits, out of the box thinkers, Garza calls them. A band of broken toys is how they were initially referred to.

It’s a tough sell but with Simone’s help he manages to swing it. He’s not the only one that hates the way you’re being treated, he knows everyone else on this team does too. If you were an agent or a civilian consultant it wouldn’t happen, HR would be involved but you have no power, you’re only there to serve.

Garza runs it up the chain of command before taking it to Henderson, the closed office door barely mutes the shouting when Brendon slides the file onto your desk. The music from your headphones is blaring, something angry, loud. He taps his finger upon the manilla envelop to get your attention and you sigh before plucking the headphones out of your ears.

“You ready to do some real work?” He asks you, flicking the file open to reveal The Museum of Contemporary Art.

“For real?” You ask him, leaning back in your seat. “You’re not messing with me?”

It breaks his heart that that’s your first assumption. It’s a testament to your tenure here at the FBI and he hates that your experience has been so tainted. He tilts his head towards Henderson’s office and the both of you pause for a second listening to you boss completely lose his shit.

“Hear that?” He asks you. “That’s the sound of my boss telling your boss, you’re coming on board with Special Investigations for a while.”

The edges of your mouth tip up and Brendon feels something blossom in his chest. It’s the first time he’s ever seen you smile and honestly…

It’s stunning.

“Thank you.” You murmur, your attention already diverting to the file.

He knows he’s made the right decision. Your interest is piqued, he can tell, it’s in the way your eyebrows furrow in concentration as your fingertips flick through the pages.

“When you finish up with the file, come join us in the conference room. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team.” He promises before heading back the way he came.

You watch him go before ripping out a page from your notepad and crumpling it up into a ball, tossing it into the trashcan alongside your desk.

Brendon doesn’t realise that he’s just handed you a lifeline, that you were seconds away from making what would have been the biggest mistake of your life.

You pick up the manilla envelop and slot it under your arm before you rise to your feet and head towards the conference room.

Finally, someone’s taking you seriously.

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[ladykatdollx]

Some of my Oz headcannons <3

•He just gives me true gentleman vibes😫I know he’s MENTAL but for you he has a soft spot, he’ll open doors for you (he defo checks you out as he walks behind you), calls you “love” “darling” “pretty girl” “sweetheart”, carry you over rough ground if you’re wearing heels. Just things like that🫶

•he’s secretly a true romantic even though he may not show it sometimes, he’ll kiss your neck and breathe heavily, play with your hair and hold your hand. He definitely gets jealous and protective over you and is always prepared to fight somebody if someone approaches you and won’t leave you alone.

•I feel like he’s an animal lover, considering his crime name is literally Penguin…Telltales backstory I’m not actually sure how he got his name, loves birds especially. He’d be the type to laugh at penguins waddling and sliding into the water at a zoo.

•I feel like he’s life in England was great for him and he low-key misses it, as that’s where he was brought up, especially his criminal life and being a boxer, boxing ring proprietor. I feel like he may have had a few flings or maybe a relationship but it just didn’t work out and it may have made him feel shit deep down, then resorting to drinking and other bad influences (such as gambling etc) to get over it, but that’s something he’d probably never admit, he puts on his overly confident, loud and tough boy personality to cover it. Also, when him and Bruce were good friends, Bruce definitely got more attention, especially female attention and it may have had an effect on Oz, thinking that he wasn’t as handsome as Bruce and couldn’t pull girls like Bruce could (even though Oz has natural charm and IS A HANDSOME MAN NOW😫he’d have all of us over him <3)

•he’d defo invite you to watch him at a boxing match, he’ll brush his hair back and flex in front of you to impress you and he’ll do the most to make sure he wins that fight, he couldn’t bare the thought of losing in-front of you.

•I’m not entirely sure how he really feels about the scar across his nose bridge, I feel like sometimes he looks in the mirror to look at it, getting flashbacks to the fight he had that caused it, but he probably laughs it off and thinks it looks cool. But even if he did feel insecure you’ll tell him it’s attractive, which would make him feel better.

•he got prison tattoos in prison FOR SURE AND TELLTALE WE NEED A TOPLESS 3D MODEL OF HIM

•if he’s had some trouble he’d come and find you, you are his peace and comfort, especially if he’s had a brutal fight, I feel like he’d lay down with his head resting on your lap whilst you sort his face out, he’ll groan due to the pain tho.

•I know it’s sort of contrasting to the point I said above this but although he’s highly protective of you, if you were willing to join him in the criminal underworld, he’d feel unsure but deep down he’d love you to be by his side.

•he has a good and silly sense of humour, I love his British humour throughout season 1, especially as me being a British girl. For those who remember episode 5 when Bruce gets back into the computer and Oz used the comic sans font to type “cobblepot enterprises” LMAOO and changing Bruce’s medical history💀💀I can just imagine him messing around and being stupid with you, like maybe physically annoying you too😭

•defo gets drunk on a Friday and Saturday night and is painfully loud but is funny as hell when he’s drunk

•absolutely HATES these young wannabe gangsters that think they’re hard, they irritate him, he thinks they’re dickheads and will say something like “they have no bloody idea of the real world…twats” as he shakes his head

•probably not best to ask him about how him and Bruce’s friendship, he’ll give you a look and you’ll know to stop talking, or he’ll be like “I don’t wanna talk about it, alright?” And he may get annoyed. Although he will eventually open up to you about his parents and how badly he misses his mother especially.

•has a shocking sleep schedule but he’ll happily let you sleep, he’ll keep checking up on you and may sit down on the bed and watch you for a while, when he eventually gets tired he’ll lay down beside you and wrap his arm around you.

•he loves his old fashioned style and thinks modern fashion especially modern men’s fashion is SHITE

•I KNOW ITS BIG I KNOW ITS BIG!!!!

[raineandsky]

#51

tw: blood, violence

The villain makes their getaway whilst reporters and adoring fans alike swarm the hero. They’d all waited until the villain had bolted before descending on him, uncaring to the fact that the hero was trying to pursue them. It’s in moments like these that they’re somewhat grateful for the paparazzi—at least between the less satisfying photos they manage to get of the hero beating them into the ground.

The villain dips into an alleyway when they’re sure they’re out of sight, finally letting out a pained sigh. There’s specks of blood flicked onto their clothes, but they can’t tell whether it’s theirs or the hero’s. They lean against a wall to gingerly check under their shirt, grimacing at the gash across their abdomen. It doesn’t look great.

They rip some of their poor jacket to shreds, wrapping the fabric around their middle as tight as they can manage. Their lair is on the other side of town. If they can get back and find their med kit, then they can—

“[Villain]?”

The villain drops their shirt instantly, scowling at whoever has the gall to find them in a moment of vulnerability. A young woman blocks the light at the end of the alley, her hair pulled into a professional ponytail and a pair of round glasses perched on her nose. She smiles lightly as if she hasn’t a problem in the world, though the tightness at which she’s gripping her clipboard would suggest otherwise. She’s more or less the image of perfection.

Much nicer looking than the villain right now, at least.

“Can I fucking help you?” the villain snaps, and she flinches so subtly they’re not sure they saw it.

“I was hoping I could get a chat with you,” she opens hopefully, glancing down at her clipboard. “Ask a couple of questions.”

“No.” The villain pushes away from the wall, concealing their grimace as best they can.

“[Hero] hurt you.”

Clearly it wasn’t as well-hidden as the villain was hoping. They narrow their eyes at her. “Yeah, no shit. He always does.”

They turn to make their great, slightly staggering, escape, and the civilian trots along behind them like she’s invited. “It’s unfair.”

“Life’s unfair. You’ll learn that when you reach college.”

“I’m… twenty-six. Anyways, [Villain], that chat?” She taps her clipboard with her pen hopefully.

“I already said no.”

The civilian sighs tiredly. “Look, I know you’re not usually the one giving interviews and things, but I wanna hear your side of the story. How you ended up here, how poorly the heroes handle crime, how their violence only causes more harm than good. Don’t you wanna help people understand you?”

“Mystery is my thing, thanks. You calling me by my villain name is intimate enough.”

“You got a real name?”

Shouldn’t have brought that up. “No.”

“Let me help you.” The civilian darts in front of them, blocking their grand exit from the alleyway. “I want people to like you, [Villain]. I know you don’t want people to think you’re evil forever.”

There’s a growing sticky spot under their shirt that needs to be fixed fast. They’d push her out the way if they had the strength. “It’s sweet you’re so curious about the evil scary side, but it’s not happening. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go home before I die.”

Her gaze dips to where their hand is sitting against them, and her eyes widen in horror at the sight of the crimson pooling on their clothes. “Oh, my god!” she announces. “God, sit down, right now.”

The villain tries to wave her off and get past, but she stubbornly pushes them back. “Sit,” she demands, and the villain has no choice but to surrender.

They slump down against the wall, and the civilian pulls a roll of bandages out from her bag as she squats down with them. They frown suspiciously at her preparedness. “I had a feeling [Hero] would beat you up again,” she explains once she notices their glare. “I thought I could do you a favour if you did me one.”

“Oh my god,” the villain groans dramatically.  “You’re blackmailing me?”

“That’s a mean way to put it.” She tears the bandage from the roll before dipping into her bag again. “What made you a villain, anyway?”

They can’t believe this. They can’t believe she has the gall to ask, and they can’t believe they’re about to answer.

“It started when I was a kid, really,” the villain begins slowly, and they hate that every word that’s about to come out of their mouth is true.