#agent sullivan

[amarearts]

Returning to Tatooine was never going to be a happy affair for Cipher 16.

This is a redraw of a really really old comic I did like 10 years ago?? Man time does fly. I thought it'd be fun to do it justice :D

[kramlabs]

Harry Truman explaining the partitioning of Palestine

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Since “The Last of Us” TV show came about because Neil Druckmann met up with Craig Mazin due to his work on “Chernobyl”, I’m gonna need Neil to meet up with any of the following creators for a possible “Uncharted” TV adaptation:

1) Erik Oleson (Daredevil season 3)

2) Jonathan E. Steinberg (Black Sails)

3) Jed Whedon and Maurissa Tancharoen (Agents of SHIELD, Spartacus)

4) Jane Espenson (Warehouse 13)

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 14: Agents of Chaos

Fandom: The Dark Knight Trilogy

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x OC

Summary: The masked man has a job offer for them.

Word Count: 2,254

Notes: Takes place during The Dark Knight Rises. Warnings for depictions of violence.

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“Well, look who’s finally out of solitary,” Vanessa leaned her head against Jonathan’s shoulder, curling in closer to him for the few hours of communal time they got in the day before they would all be wrangled back into the cells. He wrapped an arm around her waist, head cocking as he watched the Joker be allowed back into the pen.

“How long do you think he’ll last this time before he gets sent back?”

“Who knows. Maybe a week?”

Jonathan just hummed, pulling her closer into his lap. “He looked better with the makeup on.”

Vanessa hummed in agreement. Without it, the Joker looked too…normal. Or at least as normal as one could look with a Glasgow smile carved into their cheeks. 

“At least he’s fun to watch,” she said. Life in Blackgate was painfully boring. At least with the Joker around, things got a lot more interesting.

“Uh huh.”

Tilting her head, she huffed out a tiny laugh at the way Jonathan pouted, stretching up to kiss the side of his throat.

“Relax, you jealous fool. You’re still my favorite criminal.”

He blushed, seeming to almost melt at the statement, eyes soft when he looked at her. 

“You’re my favorite too.”

“I better be.”

Laughing, he kissed her firmly, long fingers petting through her hair.

“Hey! Hey! Sullivan and Crane, no canoodling in the communal areas!” one of the guards barked at them. They pulled away.

“Sorry, officer,” Jonathan said, teeth bared in a smile that she knew meant he was imagining all of the different ways to eviscerate the guard. But nevertheless, they behaved. If they didn’t, the guards would separate them indefinitely.

“They’ve been jumpier than usual,” Vanessa remarked. 

“Probably has to do with the masked man running around blowing up football fields and holding the city hostage with a neutron bomb.”

“Pfft. As if any of that is our fault.”

“Heya, docs!” the Joker had finally made his way over to them, jumping into the empty seat nearby.

“Hi, Jokes,” Vanessa greeted, lazily carding her fingers through Jonathan’s hair. “How was solitary?”

“I got to have a very enlightening talk with dear old Mr. Zsasz. You remember him?”

“Tally mark guy? Oh, yes. Very interesting case. How is he?”

The Joker giggled. “Even more off his rocker than the last time you saw him, I imagine.”

“Alright, everyone back to your cells!” a guard shouted.

“Already?” Vanessa asked, frowning.

“They’re skinting on our communal time,” Jonathan growled in annoyance, hand squeezing at her waist. Tilting her head, she gave him a kiss.

“Crane and Sullivan! What did I just fucking say!?” the same guard bellowed. 

“I’m going to kill him,” Jonathan mumbled as they pulled back and began to walk towards the line forming to go back to their cells.

“You will do no such thing. I don’t want to have to be up here alone while you’re down in solitary.”

He huffed, but nodded, squeezing her hand once before going back into his cell. They had allowed them to eventually have cells across from each other. Due to good behavior. So at least they could talk. The Joker was next door to her.

Most of the cells in Blackgate were stuffed to the gills, but their wing was special. The elite. That’s what the Joker called them, at least. Everyone had their own individual cell. For safety reasons.

“Did you hear about the bombings?” Vanessa asked the Joker, leaning up casually against her bars. 

“Heard some of the guards mentioning it,” he said, licking at his scars. “Who is he? The new one?” he didn’t need to specify who he was talking about.

“They’re calling him Bane.”

“Step away from the bars, Sullivan,” a guard snapped as he walked down the cellblock. Vanessa stuck her tongue out at him when his back was turned. Jonathan snickered.

There was a vroom from outside like…

Like a tank.

Bats?

No, that wasn’t possible.

Her head snapped around at the sound, frowning. Across from her, Jonathan had the same reaction. 

“Marty? Could you turn on the news?” she called to a guard. One of the ones who wasn’t a complete asshole. He was already fumbling for the remote, clicking on the television set that was positioned so all inmates on the cellblock could see it. They had put it in for specifically the purpose of being able to televise certain prison announcements, but it was useful when there were things on the news that they all needed to see. 

The picture was fuzzy, but it was good enough for her to make out the masked man from the football field, standing on top of a massive tank that looked suspiciously similar to the one that the Bat used to drive, save for the color. And then his voice boomed out over the speakers. The same voice that they’d heard over the shitty television set in the communal areas when they’d watch the football field be blown to pieces. 

“Behind you, stands a symbol of oppression! Blackgate prison. Where a thousand men have languished under the name of this man,” he held up a photo. “Harvey Dent. Who has been held up to you as the shining example of justice! You have been supplied with a false idol,” he tore the photograph into pieces. “To stop you tearing down this corrupt city!”

From other parts of the prison, she could hear the beginnings of yells and cheers from the other inmates.

“Let me tell you the truth about Harvey Dent from the words of Gotham’s police commissioner, James Gordon,” he pulled a packet of papers from his pocket, and began to read. The Joker had started to giggle. “The Batman didn’t murder Harvey Dent. He saved my boy, then took the blame for Harvey’s appalling crimes so that I could, to my shame, build a lie around this fallen idol. I praised the madman who tried to murder my own child. But, I can no longer live with my lie. It is time to trust the people of Gotham with the truth and it is time for me to resign.”

The Joker was howling with glee, practically on the floor of his cell with how hard he was cackling. Vanessa shared a look with Jonathan. She could feel the beginnings of chaos and unrest build in the air, preparing to explode. The shouts from other parts of the prison had grown in volume, into a furious roar.

“And do you accept this man’s resignation? And do you accept the resignation of all of these liars? Of all the corrupt? We take Gotham from the corrupt!” with a sweeping gesture of his hand, Bane made a signal, and one of the tanks took aim at the entrance to the prison. The camera went all shaky as the news people screamed, running to get out of the way. But the mics were still on so they could hear him speak. “The rich! The oppressors of generations who have kept you down with myths of opportunity. And we give it back to you. The people. Gotham is yours! None shall interfere. Do as you please,” the entire prison shook with an explosion, as the entrance was fired upon. “But start by storming Blackgate and freeing the oppressed!”

Inside, there was the sound of running feet, and shouts from the guards.

And then the doors all flew open.

The guards on their block were already being descended upon by the mercenaries who had stormed inside the prison, carrying duffle bags full of weapons that they dumped onto the ground for the inmates to grab. Outside, Bane was still speaking. 

“Step forward, those who would serve…for an army will be raised. The powerful will be ripped from their decadent nests! And cast out into the cold world that we know and endure. Courts will be convened! Spoils will be enjoyed! Blood will be shed! The police will survive as they learn to serve true justice! This great city…it will endure. Gotham will survive.”

Poking her head out of her cell to make sure that there weren’t anymore guards around who would shoot her the moment she stepped out, Vanessa took a careful step from her cell. Jonathan met her in the center of the block, taking her hand.

“Let’s get out of here.”

She nodded. “Bye, Jokes,” she called over her shoulder to the Joker who was stretching his arms. “Have fun!”

“See ya, docs!” he called, and sauntered off the opposite way. Entertaining as the Joker was to watch, she still didn’t trust him. Better to keep their distance and just let him do his thing.

“Doctors,” a mercenary called, walking towards them with a duffle bag in hand. “I believe that these are yours,” he set the bag down in front of them. Eyeing him suspiciously, Vanessa bent down to unzip and riffle through it, humming at the sight of her coat and Jonathan’s mask, the rest of their gear carefully folded within.

“How did you get this?”

“Had a couple of our men break into the GCPD’s evidence room.”

“What do you want?” Jonathan asked, eyes narrowed, even as he clutched his precious mask to his chest.

“Bane has a job opportunity he would like to discuss with you two. If you’re interested.” 

“Do we have a choice?”

“Of course,” his smile said otherwise. Damn. Maybe they should have braved going with the Joker. Heaving up the duffle bag in one hand, Vanessa took Jonathan’s with the other.

“Fine.”

“This way,”  the mercenary angled his head. “My name is Barsad.”

“Pleasure,” Jonathan said in a dry tone. Vanessa bit her lip to hide a snort. They followed Barsad outside, to where chaos had truly descended upon the streets. Barsad led them to the courthouse. Inside, it was quiet, armed mercenaries at each entrance to keep the rioters out. Standing in the middle of the room, hands clasped behind his back, was Bane. He was watching as his men began to tear up the pews and desks, shoving them all up against one wall in a huge pile. Almost like a throne.

“Welcome, doctors,” he said, in his deep, echoey voice.

“What is this?” Jonathan asked, still holding tight to Vanessa’s hand. Bane was huge, tall and hulking with arms the size of her head. He began to pace back and forth in front of them, each step seeming to radiate enough force to tremble the ground.

She didn’t think that she’d been in the presence of someone who was so physically intimidating since Batman. 

“An opportunity,” he said finally. “I need someone to run the court. To pass judgments onto those deemed guilty.”

“Guilty of what?” Vanessa asked. Bane shrugged and spread his hands out.

“Of contributing to the decline of this great city.”

“And what do we get in return?” Jonathan asked.

“If you agree, you will have full authority over this room. Not even I will be able to overturn your decisions.”

With the mask, and the voice modulator on top of it, he was incredibly hard to read. She felt a rush of frustration and anxiety over not being able to tell if he was lying or not. 

“Why us?” Vanessa asked.

“You have some history with the organization I am a part of. You did good work for us, in the past.”

Her eyes widened, only a tiny fraction. “You’re a member of the League of Shadows?”

“I am the League of Shadows.”

Jonathan’s hand squeezed hers. His eyes were cold and calculating as he surveyed the courtroom before glancing to hers.

What do you think?

I don’t know. It could be fun.

We can’t trust him.

Of course not.

It would get us access to more potential test subjects. It’s been so long…

I like the way you think.

The thoughts passed between them in a matter of a few blinks, and Jonathan looked back at Bane.

“Alright.” 

Bane gestured out a sweeping hand to the court. “These men are at your disposal, doctors. Whatever you require, simply ask. We will begin to bring you your first convicts for sentencing tomorrow. Agreed?”

“Yes.”

Bane nodded. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he gestured to Barsad to follow him, and stalked out the doors. Beginning to walk about the courthouse, they started to assess.

“We will need some sort of barrier here,” he gestured towards where the judge usually sat. “To keep out any overzealous crowd members.”

The mercenaries Bane had left for them began to scramble to follow their instructions. 

“Preferably higher up,” Vanessa added quickly. “That way we can see if anyone tries anything.”

“A deterrent would be nice too…”

“Toxin bombs wouldn’t take very long to make. Maybe we could establish a lab in one of the back rooms.”

He caught her by the waist as she began to walk around, and she laughed as he tugged her closer. “And there should be an area, preferably quiet, in the back, where we can go after court adjourns for the day.”

“Is that really what’s on your mind?” she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“It’s been ages since we had a real moment alone,” he kissed her neck.

“Mm. Well, finish giving instructions to the boys, and then, maybe, you can come in the back and help me get out of this itchy uniform,” she picked at the bright orange fabric, the cheap material scratching her skin. Jonathan’s eyes flared with excitement.

“I would like nothing more.”

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[onikiribattousai]

BEHOLD!!!!!!

My Phineas and Ferb OC.

Agent S AKA Sebastian the Sugar Glider

He is a rookie agent in OWCA and he views Perry the Platypus as his senior agent and friends with him. Looks cute but will kick your butt

[bostonrealestateblog]

Developer of proposed life-sciences buildings in Sullivan Square adds pedestrian/bicyclist path to help transformation of the square from terrifying to pleasant | Universal Hub

The path that might transform the area and creat a neighborhood.

[buckets-and-trees]

Big Conversation

Collection: Desperate to Devoted Characters/Pairings: Bucky x Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 1100 Summary: Life keeps moving forward, and so does the relationship that has completely turned around between you and Bucky, including how that will look now in your shared workplace.

Content/Warnings: fluff, new relationship feels

Author Notes: Week five piece for @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer - the prompt was "We're..." with friends with benefits, exes, and enemies to lovers as options - and ticking off TEASING to catch up on January for Build-a-Bucky Bingo.

You were so immersed in studying the map and interpreting the data points on your screen with Conor that you didn’t notice the hush that washed over what was a typical hubbub of noise outside your office, or else you might have guessed someone with A Name in the agency had hit the floor.

Instead, it was the decisive knock on your doorframe that brought you out of deep concentration.

When your eyes clocked the Winter Soldier there, a warm smile split across your face. “Sergeant Barnes! Is it already eleven-thirty?” you asked, glancing down at your watch.

“Nearly,” he replied, smiling back, but you noticed it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Eyes that were scrutinizing the man standing just over your shoulder.

“Bucky, this is Conor Sullivan.”

“I’m the director of the digital media analysis team,” Conor said, his Irish accent more pronounced than usual, and instead of straightening, he maintained the stance he’d adopted to look over your shoulder at the screens.

“I’m an Avenger,” Bucky offered.

You bit your lip to keep from giggling.

The posturing energy in the room was painfully palpable.

“We’ve been looking over the latest social media trends, crossing referencing that with reports we’re getting from some of our agents, and the leads Joaquin has been pursuing in Eastern Europe. The activity of the Flag Smashers is absolutely heating up again, and there’s some definite indicators that some potential leaders of the group may be circling in Tirana.”

“I look forward to the briefing – it’s always gratifying when a hunch my team has turns out to have traction,” Bucky’s words were slightly stilted. “Maybe we put something on the books for after lunch. Do you think your findings will be ready by then, Sullivan?”

“More than enough time, Barnes,” Conor responded.

“Even without this analysis mastermind?” Bucky asked, gesturing to you. “We have a date with HR at eleven-thirty.”

“A date?” Conor asked.

“Sorry,” Bucky quickly corrected, “I meant to say meeting.”

You tried to discreetly put your hand to your stomach to hold in the laughter. This was too much.

“We have a meeting with HR to officially disclose our relationship status,” Bucky further explained.

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Conor started, abruptly straightening.

“Of course not, you’re working with one of the most consummate professionals around, she’s never been messy in the workplace.”

“Not true,” you interjected, your cheeks heating slightly. “I used to be fairly passive aggressive and petty towards you.”

“But you did it in a way that you somehow always maddeningly remained above actual reproach,” Bucky said. “We’re one of those classic enemies to lovers romances for the ages. What do they call it now? End game? Like Taylor and Travis.”

You tilted your head, but you did not risk looking at Conor.

“Taylor and Travis?”

“Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce,” Bucky explained. “There was no animosity for them to overcome, but the true love, end game thing.”

“I… should let you get to your meeting, then,” Conor said, some reticence in his tone.

Bucky came further into your office and Conor passed him on the way out.

Bucky squared his shoulders and didn’t relax his intimidating gaze for one second, but Conor was formidable in his own right – only an inch shorter and with maybe twenty pounds less of muscle, the charming, blond, Irish man didn’t pass for someone who you’d expect to work the office side of things in this building.

“You used to date that guy?” Bucky asked two beats after he’d gone, a boyish, smirking grin on his face as he turned back to you.

“Two dates,” you reminded him, “only two dates, and it was more than a year ago.”

“What kind of name is Conor Brady? Could he be more Irish?”

You laughed. “Your names is James.”

“But I go by Bucky,” he countered, reaching out a hand.

You stood and stepped right up to him, twining your fingers with his. “End game?” you changed the line of post-encounter questioning.

Bucky tugged you close with the one hand, and his vibranium hand came up to cup your cheek. “We haven’t said it with those words, but that enemies wave we rode out? The ordeal just outside of Paris? The past six weeks with you since then? Unless you’re not convinced, I’m all in for the long haul.”

You pressed up on your tiptoes and kissed him in a blazing, euphoric heat. He returned the kiss, circling his arm around your waist while still keeping your fingers twined, and pressed your soft body against his chest.

You could kiss this man for an eternity, but you did finally press him away. “End game for me, too.”

“Yeah?”

The smitten smile on his face made you want to close your door and get to much more than kissing. The feelings that shone through his eyes made your heart swell.

“Yeah,” you affirmed and delivered a quick peck.

Everything with him had always been intense, strong, deep feelings. Now that they were rooted in care and affection, it only made you more sure every day since you’d finally broken down the walls and defenses that had been there before.

“That possessive streak looked good on you,” you teased, but he grinned.

“You like knowing you’re my girl?”

“That’s why we’re declaring our intentions to HR,” you said. “Now let’s go make it official, and then maybe I’ll show you in the back of your car just how much I like it.”

“Damn,” Bucky groaned, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead briefly to yours. “I’m holding you to that.”

You kissed him again, just one more time.

Then you giggled.

“What?” Bucky asked, echoing with a half laugh.

“You really said enemies to lovers?”

“You loved it.”

“And Taylor and Travis?”

“You know I was there next to you when you were scrolling through video after video of London night three last weekend and then Dublin this weekend. I’m invested in them now, too. I can appreciate a man who unapologetically loves his woman.”

“Bucky,” you breathed, heart aching and swelling for this man. He smiled and pulled you out of your office, and you followed happily. He was everything, gave you all the shades you’d hoped to find, someone who was proving to be a true other half, and you couldn’t wait for the days and weeks and months and years ahead and all the ways he’d make you laugh, make you melt, and sometimes both at the same time.

NEXT PART: Too Hot

We've come a long way from their start in Desperate, but I just... want them to be in love and happy and get to have fun moments now. I can't help it! 🫠

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[insidetheskinofthesun]

Update on this; apparently no-one's even thought of combining One Piece with The Pirates of Penzance! The musical about pirates where one song is literally about being the pirate king!

Do I have to do everything myself here?

This week on obscure desires that will probably never be fulfilled; One Piece animatic of the World Nobles singing Tom Lehrer’s Send In The Marines.

[amethystarachnid]

Hello. I’d like to request a Loki x Fem!Reader. Not sure if you’ve seen Step Up 3 but the song Bust Your Windows by Jazmine Sullivan was played and basically in the scene the two love interests did a tango (I would look it up for reference 🩷). So maybe Loki and Reader are on an undercover mission and they get tied into a tango. You can interpret it however you want but I’ve had this ask stuck in my head for a while now. Hope you like this! 🩷🩷

BOUND BY DUTY

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff, flirty

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Summary: Loki has been called form the S.H.I.E.L.D. to help the Avengers with an anomaly that's happening around the world and you're assigned to be his handler. You were told to not trust him but what if under that mask of indifference there's a man just wishing to be loved?

ᯓ★ Word count: 9.7k

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think, just a few hated kisses and flirty comments

ᯓ★ I haven't seen the movie but I've seen the scene on YouTube (like just the 3 minutes ? scene) and really hop you'll like the story

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The air inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. compound feels heavier than usual. It could be the weight of the mission ahead or the fact that the one person who might hold the answers is a literal god—a god of mischief, no less. You’ve been briefed on Loki’s recent exploits, his failed conquest of Earth, and his punishment in Asgard’s dungeons. You know better than to trust him, but you also know that sometimes the devil you know is preferable to the devil you don’t.

Nick Fury has chosen you, of all people, to act as Loki’s handler. You don’t know whether to feel honored or utterly cursed. He claims it’s because of your “unflinching professionalism” and “ability to handle high-pressure situations.” You suspect it’s because most of your colleagues would rather face a firing squad than deal with Loki’s silver tongue.

The sound of the jet door opening draws your attention. You straighten your back and smooth your jacket as two Asgardian guards march down the ramp, their armor gleaming even under the dim hangar lights. Between them walks Loki, his wrists bound in glowing cuffs that hum faintly with suppressed power. He’s wearing his usual dark green attire, though the horned helmet is missing. Without it, his raven-black hair tumbles around his face, framing sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. His piercing blue eyes sweep the room, landing on you.

You can feel his gaze like a physical weight, appraising you. He smirks. Of course, he smirks.

“Agent,” Fury’s voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you slightly. “Take him to interrogation. The guards will brief you on his restraints.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, your voice calm and steady despite the flutter in your chest.

The Asgardian guards exchange a few words with you about Loki’s bindings. They warn you not to let your guard down—ever. You assure them you won’t, though you’re starting to realize that resisting Loki’s words might be a different kind of challenge altogether.

“Shall we?” you say, gesturing for Loki to follow you. He arches an eyebrow but complies, falling into step beside you. The guards trail behind at a respectful distance.

The walk to the interrogation room is uncomfortably silent. You’re hyper-aware of Loki’s presence beside you, his tall frame moving with a predatory grace. He doesn’t look like someone who’s been imprisoned for months; he looks like he owns the place, and you’re just a guest in his domain.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. Of course, he does.

“Tell me, Agent,” he begins, his voice smooth and lilting, “do they often send mortals to babysit gods, or am I a special case?”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, determined not to rise to the bait. “I’m here to make sure you don’t cause any trouble. Think of me as your parole officer.”

He chuckles softly, the sound almost pleasant if you didn’t know better. “And if I were to misbehave, what then? Will you scold me? Perhaps send me to my room without supper?”

His words drip with mockery, but there’s an undercurrent of something else—amusement, maybe even intrigue. You keep your expression neutral. “If you misbehave, you’ll find out just how creative S.H.I.E.L.D. can be when it comes to disciplinary measures.”

“Promises, promises,” he murmurs, and you feel a shiver crawl up your spine at the way his eyes linger on you. You remind yourself that this is what Loki does: he gets under people’s skin, twists their emotions until they don’t know which way is up. You won’t let him succeed.

The interrogation room is as stark and clinical as you’d expect. A metal table and two chairs sit under the harsh glow of fluorescent lights. Loki looks around with mild disdain as if the room itself offends his sensibilities.

“This is where you intend to question me?” he asks, his tone dripping with derision. “How... quaint.”

You motion for him to sit. He doesn’t move immediately, instead watching you with that infuriating smirk. Finally, he lowers himself into the chair with the air of someone granting you a great favor.

The guards secure his bindings to the table before stepping back. You nod at them, and they leave, the door clicking shut behind them. Now it’s just you and Loki. You take the seat across from him, pulling out a tablet with your notes.

“We have reason to believe you have information about a recent incident involving extraterrestrial technology,” you say, your voice steady. “S.H.I.E.L.D. recovered several devices that match the energy signature of the Tesseract. We need to know where they came from.”

Loki leans back in his chair, the chains on his wrists clinking softly. “Ah, the Tesseract. Such a fascinating little trinket. Tell me, Agent, do you often meddle in matters beyond your comprehension?”

“This isn’t about me,” you reply coolly. “It’s about you. And what you know.”

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And what do I gain from sharing this knowledge? A lighter sentence? A pat on the head? Somehow, I doubt your superiors are feeling particularly charitable toward me.”

“We’re not asking for charity. We’re asking for cooperation. Help us, and we might consider negotiating with Asgard on your behalf.”

Loki’s laughter fills the room, sharp and cold. “Negotiate with Asgard? Oh, how delightfully naive. Do you honestly believe Odin would entertain such an offer? He’d sooner banish me to the farthest reaches of the cosmos than indulge your mortal whims.”

You suppress a sigh, already feeling the weight of this conversation. But then Loki leans forward, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Still,” he says, his voice softer now, almost teasing, “I might be persuaded to cooperate. After all, it would be such a shame to disappoint you.”

There it is again—that deliberate charm, the way he threads his words with just enough sincerity to make you second-guess yourself. You fold your arms, meeting his gaze head-on.

“You don’t intimidate me, Loki.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to intimidate you,” he says, his lips curling into a wicked smile. “Merely... entertain you. Is that not the proper term for what mortals call ‘flirting’?”

Your stomach flips, but you keep your expression neutral. “If this is your idea of flirting, I’m not impressed.”

“Hmm,” he muses, leaning back again. “Perhaps I’ve spent too long among Asgardians. We have a certain... flair for tradition. Shall I compose you a sonnet instead? Or perhaps challenge another suitor to a duel in your honor?”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You quickly school your features, but not before Loki notices. His smirk widens.

“There it is,” he says, his tone triumphant. “A crack in the armor. I knew you weren’t entirely immune to my charms.”

You roll your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you tap a few notes into your tablet, focusing on the task at hand.

“Let’s get back to the matter at hand,” you say firmly. “Where did the devices come from?”

Loki sighs dramatically, as if the question bores him. “You mortals are so dreadfully predictable. Always demanding answers, yet never willing to pay the price for them.”

“What’s the price?”

He tilts his head, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Your name.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“Your name, Agent,” he repeats, enunciating the words slowly, as if you’re a particularly dense student. “You see, it’s rather difficult to have a proper conversation when I must refer to you as simply ‘Agent.’ It’s so... impersonal.”

You hesitate. It’s not a particularly sensitive piece of information, but giving him your name feels like handing him a weapon. Still, you decide it’s a small concession if it means making progress.

“Y/N,” you say finally. “My name is Y/N.”

Loki’s smile softens, though it’s no less dangerous. “A beautiful name for a beautiful mortal. Tell me, Y/N, do all agents possess your... charm, or are you truly one of a kind?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” you reply, though your cheeks warm slightly at the compliment. You hope the harsh lighting hides it.

“Ah, but it’s not flattery if it’s true,” he counters smoothly. “And if I may say so, you wear skepticism rather well. It suits you.”

You shake your head, fighting the urge to laugh. Loki’s flirtations are relentless, but you can’t let them distract you. You refocus on the task, determined to get the answers you need.

But as the interrogation continues, one thing becomes clear: working with Loki is going to be anything but straightforward.

The quinjet ride to Avengers Tower is suffocating in its silence. Loki sits across from you, his long legs stretched out casually as if he owns the entire aircraft. His wrists remain bound, the faint glow of the Asgardian cuffs serving as a reminder of his diminished power. But that doesn’t stop him from exuding arrogance with every calculated shift of his posture.

“Is this where I’m supposed to tremble?” he muses, his voice cutting through the quiet. “The great Avengers Tower, lair of the mighty heroes who so thoroughly bested me.” His smirk deepens. “How quaint.”

You’re seated across from him, tablet in hand, pretending to review your notes. But Loki’s presence is impossible to ignore, his every word curling around you like smoke.

“Maybe don’t insult the people who’ll be watching your every move,” you say, not looking up. “They’re already not thrilled about this arrangement.”

He tilts his head, watching you with something between amusement and curiosity. “And you, Y/N? Are you thrilled?”

“I’m doing my job.”

“Oh, but your job now entails keeping me under control, does it not?” His voice lowers, playful and conspiratorial. “Tell me, how does it feel to hold the leash of a god?”

You glance up, meeting his eyes without flinching. “It feels like babysitting a particularly arrogant toddler.”

His laughter rings out, rich and genuine, surprising you. For a moment, you think you’ve caught him off guard. But then his expression shifts back to its usual smugness, and you realize he’s thoroughly enjoying this verbal sparring.

When the quinjet lands on the rooftop pad of Avengers Tower, you rise, gesturing for Loki to follow. He does, the clinking of his cuffs echoing as he steps out into the open air. The city sprawls out below, glittering in the early evening light, but Loki barely spares it a glance. His focus remains on the tower itself, his smirk growing as he takes in the structure.

“Ah, Stark’s playground,” he says. “I trust the man himself is waiting inside, ready to deliver a string of tiresome quips?”

“Something like that,” you reply, leading him toward the elevator.

As the doors slide open, Loki steps inside with the air of a man entering his throne room. You press the button for the common floor, bracing yourself for the chaos that’s about to unfold.

The doors slide open to reveal the Avengers lounging in the common area. Tony Stark is leaning against the bar, a drink in hand, while Natasha Romanoff sharpens a knife at the table. Steve Rogers stands near the window, arms crossed, his jaw tight. Bruce Banner hovers awkwardly in the background, glancing up as you and Loki step in.

“Look who’s here!” Tony’s voice cuts through the tension, dripping with mock enthusiasm. “Reindeer Games himself. I thought Asgard had a no-returns policy.”

Loki’s lips curl into a predatory smile. “Ah, Stark. Still compensating for something, I see.”

“Alright, let’s not,” you interject quickly, stepping between them. “Loki’s here to help us, not pick a fight.”

“Help us?” Steve’s voice is cold, his gaze sharp as it settles on Loki. “That’s a generous interpretation.”

“It’s true,” you reply, keeping your tone firm. “We’ve encountered tech with energy signatures similar to the Tesseract. Loki’s the only one who might have answers.”

“Because trusting the guy who tried to enslave the planet worked out so well the first time,” Tony quips, raising his glass.

Loki chuckles softly. “It’s heartwarming to see how fondly you remember me.”

Bruce shifts uncomfortably in the corner, his eyes darting between Loki and the others. You don’t miss the tension in his posture, the way his hands twitch as if ready to retreat at a moment’s notice. Loki notices too, and for the first time since his arrival, a flicker of unease crosses his face. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

“I see the beast is still lurking,” Loki says, his voice quieter now, though the edge remains. “Tell me, Dr. Banner, does he hunger for revenge?”

Bruce flinches, his face pale. “I—I’d rather not...”

“Enough,” you cut in sharply, fixing Loki with a glare. “You’re here to cooperate, remember?”

Loki raises his hands as far as the cuffs allow, feigning innocence. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten the good doctor.”

Bruce mutters something under his breath and retreats further into the room. You make a mental note to keep an eye on both him and Loki; their shared tension feels like a powder keg waiting to ignite.

After the initial round of barbs, you manage to get Loki settled in a secure room. It’s more comfortable than the dungeons of Asgard but still far from luxurious—bare walls, a simple bed, and a reinforced door with biometric locks.

“Charming,” Loki says, surveying his new accommodations. “I feel right at home.”

“Good,” you reply, leaning against the doorframe. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. If you step out of line, even once, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

He steps closer, just enough to invade your space without crossing a line. His voice drops to a low purr. “Oh, Y/N, I don’t doubt your ability to... discipline me. In fact, I almost look forward to it.”

Your cheeks flush despite yourself, but you hold your ground. “Get some rest. We’ll debrief tomorrow.”

As you turn to leave, you hear his voice again, softer this time. “Y/N?”

You pause, glancing over your shoulder. He’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite place—curiosity, perhaps, or something deeper.

“Why do you trust them with me?” he asks. “Your precious Avengers. Do you truly believe they can keep me in line?”

You meet his gaze, your own unwavering. “I don’t trust them to keep you in line. That’s my job.”

His smirk returns, but there’s something almost genuine beneath it. “Indeed, it is.”

The following day, the team gathers in the briefing room. Loki is seated at the far end of the table, his wrists still bound, though his demeanor remains as smug as ever. A holographic projection displays images of the recovered devices, their design sleek and alien.

“These were found in an abandoned Hydra facility,” you explain, gesturing to the display. “They emit the same energy signature as the Tesseract, but we have no idea what they’re for. That’s where Loki comes in.”

All eyes turn to him. He leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable.

“Convince me,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “Why should I share my insights with you?”

“Because if you don’t,” Tony says, leaning forward, “we’ll lock you in a room with Banner and see how long it takes before the Other Guy wants a rematch.”

Bruce shoots Tony a horrified look, but Loki’s smirk falters for a split second. You notice the way his fingers tighten against the edge of the table.

“Enough,” you say firmly. “We’re not resorting to threats.” You turn to Loki, your voice softening slightly. “You know what’s out there, and you know how dangerous it can be. Help us stop it. Prove you’re not the monster everyone thinks you are.”

For a moment, the room is silent. Loki’s gaze locks onto yours, something flickering in his expression—something almost vulnerable. Then, slowly, he inclines his head.

“Very well,” he says, his voice smooth once more. “Let’s see if mortals can keep up.”

As the meeting disperses, Loki lingers behind, waiting until it’s just the two of you.

“Nicely done, Y/N,” he says, his tone almost... complimentary. “You’ve mastered the art of persuasion.”

“I didn’t persuade you,” you reply. “I just told the truth.”

He steps closer, his smirk returning. “And yet, it worked. I wonder, what other truths might you use to sway me?”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “Let’s focus on saving the world first, shall we?”

“As you wish,” he says, bowing his head slightly. But as he steps past you, his voice drops to a whisper. “Though I suspect saving me might be your true challenge.”

You watch him leave, your heart inexplicably pounding. This mission just got a lot more complicated.

The next morning, the Avengers leave in a flurry of purpose and energy, Stark’s voice echoing with instructions as they file out of the tower. It’s a rare sight—every single one of them heading into the field together. You’re left behind, tasked with monitoring Loki and keeping the tower secure.

The quiet that follows their departure is almost unnerving. You sit in the common area, flipping through a report on your tablet, when Loki saunters in. He’s unbound for now—S.H.I.E.L.D.’s restraints only used when necessary. His movements are languid, predatory, as he crosses the room with his usual air of entitlement.

“Left alone with me again, Y/N?” he drawls, leaning against the counter like he owns the place. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”

You don’t look up. “You’re always alone, Loki. I’m just here to make sure you don’t destroy anything or anyone.”

He hums thoughtfully, his sharp gaze raking over you. “I wonder, is that truly why you remain? Or do you find my company... intriguing?”

You glance at him, exasperated. “I find it tolerable. At best.”

“And yet, here you are.” His smirk widens as he steps closer, just enough to test your boundaries. “Tell me, Agent, what do you do when the others aren’t here to play their parts? Surely, you don’t spend every waking moment in this dull little tower watching me.”

“Someone has to.” You set your tablet aside and stand, trying to put some distance between the two of you. “Why don’t you make my job easier and sit quietly for once?”

“But then how would I amuse myself?” He takes another step closer, his voice lowering. “You may not admit it, but I suspect you’d miss my antics if I were to behave.”

You roll your eyes and walk toward the kitchen, feigning indifference. “Don’t flatter yourself, Loki.”

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. You keep yourself busy with monitoring systems and catching up on reports, all while Loki stays suspiciously quiet in his room. It's unusual—he’s normally a restless presence, eager to test limits.

You assume his compliance is a sign of temporary boredom. What you don’t know is that Loki is lying in his sparse room, calculating. He’s been studying the tower’s security systems, searching for a way to slip past its safeguards. Tonight might be the night, he thinks. He’s memorized the patterns, the gaps, and he knows he can vanish before the Avengers even realize he’s gone.

As the hours stretch into evening, you retire to your room, unaware of the god’s intentions. Your space is a rare sanctuary in the tower, a blend of cozy practicality and personal touches that feel distinctly you.

Loki waits until the tower falls completely silent. With a wave of his hand, he disables the monitoring device in his room. It’s a minor spell—one he’s been saving for the right moment. The cuffs are no longer a problem; he’s studied the locking mechanism enough to slip them off without much effort.

He steps into the hallway, his bare feet silent on the cool floor. For the first time in weeks, he feels a surge of freedom, the tantalizing promise of escape. He heads for the exit, his mind already planning the next steps.

But as he passes by your room, a faint sound catches his attention. The door is slightly ajar, spilling a sliver of warm light into the hall. Loki hesitates, his curiosity piqued despite himself.

He peeks inside—and what he sees makes his breath hitch.

You’re standing in front of your bed, freshly out of the shower. Your hair is damp, curling against your shoulders, and you’re wearing nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around your body. The bathroom door behind you is still open, steam curling into the air, and the glow of a bedside lamp bathes your skin in soft light.

Completely unaware of your observer, you move to the dresser, pulling it open to retrieve clothes. As you reach up, the towel slips slightly, revealing more of your shoulder and the curve of your collarbone. Loki swallows hard, a rush of heat pooling in his chest and spreading lower.

He knows he should leave—should slip away unnoticed and continue with his plan. But he doesn’t move.

There’s something captivating about this glimpse of you outside the professional walls you keep so firmly in place. You’re unguarded, human in a way he rarely sees, and it stirs something in him he doesn’t entirely understand.

He takes a step closer, his presence still undetected. The urge to say something, to tease you as he always does, bubbles up, but he suppresses it.

For once, the god of mischief is utterly silent.

You turn suddenly, as if sensing something, and his heart lurches. He retreats quickly, pressing himself against the wall just as your eyes flick toward the door.

“Hello?” you call, your voice uncertain.

Loki curses himself for his foolishness. He shouldn’t have lingered—but now that he’s seen this side of you, his desire to leave the tower has shifted. He watches as you step closer to the door, your expression wary.

He slips away, retreating to his room without a sound. Once inside, he leans against the wall, his mind racing.

The thought of escape still lingers in the back of his mind, but it no longer feels urgent. Not tonight.

Not when he knows you’re here, in the same space, entirely unaware of the effect you’ve had on him.

You find Loki in the common area, lounging on the couch as if nothing happened. His cuffs are back in place, though you notice a faint smugness in his expression, as if he knows something you don’t.

“Good morning,” he says smoothly, his tone laced with amusement.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You seem chipper today.”

“Perhaps I’ve found reason to be,” he replies, his gaze flickering over you in a way that makes your stomach flip.

You frown, brushing off the unease that his words stir. “Try not to enjoy yourself too much. You’re still under watch.”

“Of course,” he says with a slight bow of his head. “But tell me, Y/N, how did you sleep? Peacefully, I hope.”

There’s something about the way he says it—soft, teasing, with just a hint of mischief—that makes you pause.

You brush past him, refusing to let him get under your skin. But as you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, his gaze heavy with unspoken thoughts.

And in his room later, Loki sits at the edge of his bed, the memory of you from the night before seared into his mind.

For now, his escape can wait.

The tension in the air was thick as the Avengers gathered in the briefing room, the holographic screen showing images of the upcoming gala. Tony Stark stood at the head of the table, his hands resting on the surface, eyes narrowed as he analyzed the data. Steve Rogers was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw set, while Natasha Romanoff sat with a focused expression, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. Bruce Banner, still uneasy around Loki, looked at the screen, then at his colleagues, silently awaiting the inevitable question.

"Alright," Tony began, his voice cutting through the thick silence. "We've got a masked gala happening in three days. High-profile event. The criminals we're tracking are expected to make a deal there, and it's our best shot at catching them."

"But they’ll be surrounded by a lot of people," Natasha said, folding her arms. "And these are highly dangerous individuals—some with connections to Hydra. We can’t risk a full-on assault."

"I agree," Steve added, his tone serious. "If we act too soon, we’ll spook them. We need to get inside, gather intel, and only move in when we have enough to bring them down safely."

"The problem," Tony continued, tapping a button on the table to bring up a closer view of the suspects, "is that they’re too well-protected. The best way in is through someone they don’t expect. Someone like... Loki."

The room went quiet. Everyone exchanged glances, the air thick with unease. Even though Loki had been cooperating—somewhat—the trust wasn’t there. Not after what he’d done. Not after the chaos he’d tried to bring to Earth. And still, his knowledge of these kinds of circles, his ability to navigate a room and blend in with the highest of society—well, it was a skill set they couldn’t afford to ignore.

“I know what you’re all thinking,” Tony continued. “But he’s the only one who can do this. We send him in as a guest. He can be charming—when he wants to be—and this kind of event is perfect for him. He won’t be recognized as a threat. In fact, they’ll probably be more inclined to trust him because of his past affiliations.”

“But we can’t just let him roam free,” Steve said, his distrust of the god evident. “There’s still the matter of him being dangerous. Even if he’s pretending to play nice, he’s unpredictable.”

“Exactly,” Tony said with a nod. “Which is why we’ll send Y/N in with him. As his escort.”

The room went silent again, this time for a different reason. Every eye turned to you, and for a brief moment, you felt the weight of their gazes. It wasn’t exactly a choice you’d been expecting. You had done plenty of fieldwork, but partnering with Loki? That was a new level of uncomfortable.

“Y/N’s been on the ground for this mission longer than any of us,” Tony continued, sensing the hesitation. “She knows the people, she knows how to blend in, and most importantly, she knows Loki better than any of us. She can keep him in check. Plus, we need someone who can keep him focused when things get... tense.”

You couldn’t help but shoot Tony a sharp look. “You’re assuming I’ll be able to control him. I’m not sure that’s realistic.”

“I’m confident you can,” Tony said with a shrug, though his tone was far from comforting. “Besides, we’ll be monitoring you both from the moment you step inside. We’ll be feeding you intel, and we’ve got backup in case things go sideways. But we can’t afford to miss this opportunity.”

You let out a long breath. The Avengers were right in one respect—this gala would be the criminals’ first big move, and it was the perfect chance to catch them red-handed. The only problem was the wild card in all of this—Loki.

“You do realize, he’s going to hate this, right?” you said, glancing toward the hallway where Loki’s room was. “He won’t go along with it without making some... demands.”

“I’m aware,” Tony said with a smirk. “But that’s where you come in. You’re going to keep him in line, whether he likes it or not.”

The idea of working so closely with Loki was disconcerting, to say the least. You weren’t sure if you were more concerned about his volatile personality or the way he looked at you—like he could read you with a single glance. Either way, being his partner at a high-stakes event was sure to turn this mission into something far more complicated than it already was.

“You’ll need to get him suited up,” Tony added. “Dress him the part. He’s got the charm, but he’s going to need the right... accessories to sell it. A tux, maybe something dark and mysterious. And, of course, a story. We’re going with the ‘rich but elusive businessman’ angle.”

You nodded reluctantly. “I’ll make sure he’s... presentable. But don’t expect him to be on his best behavior just because he’s wearing a suit.”

“I’m counting on you to make sure he stays in character, Y/N,” Tony said, locking eyes with you. “We need him to play nice for just a few hours. If he steps out of line, you have full clearance to use whatever means necessary to rein him in.”

Steve cleared his throat, stepping forward. “I don’t like putting you in this position, Y/N. But this is the only chance we’ve got to take down these criminals. You know the risks, and we’re counting on you to make sure Loki doesn’t derail everything.”

“I get it,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “I’ll keep him focused. But if he decides to do something... foolish, don’t expect me to clean up after him.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tony said with a grin. “But seriously, we’re counting on you both. The gala is our best chance to catch them. You’ll be getting intel from us in real time, so we’ll know exactly when to move in.”

You nodded again, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on your shoulders. This wasn’t just about stopping criminals—it was about making sure Loki didn’t ruin everything, too. And while you could handle the job, you knew it wouldn’t be easy, especially with a god of mischief at your side.

As you walked to Loki’s room to prepare him for the mission, your mind raced. You were about to go undercover with someone who had a knack for turning every situation into a game. It was going to be a challenge, no doubt about it. But if it meant catching the criminals and keeping the tower—and your team—safe, you were ready to do whatever it took.

You reached his door and knocked twice, preparing yourself for the inevitable confrontation. It was time to bring him into the fold, even if that meant wrestling him into a tux and a plan.

Inside, Loki’s voice echoed through the door. “Come in, Y/N. I trust this isn’t a social call?”

You opened the door, steeling yourself. The mission was about to begin, and there was no turning back.

The grandeur of the gala hits you the moment you step into the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the crowd, illuminating the sea of elegant masks and opulent gowns. A live band plays a sultry melody, the kind that fills the air with the promise of secrets. Beside you, Loki cuts an imposing figure, his sharp suit tailored to perfection and his black mask veiling just enough of his face to make him look both alluring and dangerous.

You’re both walking a tightrope here, pretending to be something you’re not while still tethered to the truth. The mission is clear: mingle, gather intel on the criminals, and identify their deal. But the undercurrent of your arrangement hums just beneath the surface, threatening to pull you under with every step.

“They certainly went all out,” Loki muses, his voice smooth as silk. He offers his arm, and though you hesitate for a fraction of a second, you take it. “Is this where I play the doting husband?”

“Try not to overdo it,” you reply, keeping your voice low. “We’re supposed to blend in, not steal the spotlight.”

He tilts his head toward you, his lips curling into a smirk. “But stealing the spotlight is what I do best, darling.”

You give him a warning look, though your heart skips a beat at the way the endearment rolls off his tongue. “Save the theatrics for later. Right now, we need to find our targets.”

He hums in agreement, though the sharp gleam in his eyes suggests he’s more focused on you than the mission. His hand rests lightly over yours as he leads you through the crowd, weaving seamlessly between masked attendees. He’s good at this, you realize, his charm a perfect weapon in this environment.

“Smile,” he murmurs close to your ear, his breath ghosting against your skin. “You look far too serious for someone at a gala.”

You force a small smile, though the proximity of him sends heat rushing to your face. “I’d be more relaxed if I wasn’t babysitting a god with a penchant for chaos.”

“And I’d be more entertained if my wife weren’t so suspicious of me,” he teases, his voice dropping just enough to make the words feel intimate.

Before you can retort, Loki’s posture shifts ever so slightly. He leans closer, pretending to adjust your mask, and murmurs, “Our targets are at three o’clock. The tall one with the crimson gown. She’s speaking to a man with a cane.”

You glance subtly in that direction and nod. “Let’s move closer.”

The two of you drift toward the edge of the ballroom, positioning yourselves within earshot of the targets. Loki keeps his hand on yours, the intimate gesture lending an air of authenticity to your cover. You focus on the conversation happening nearby, picking up snippets of information about shipment schedules and encrypted codes.

But then, the music changes.

A familiar tune fills the room—sultry, electric, and unmistakably intense. It’s Bust Your Windows by Jazmine Sullivan, reimagined by the live band with a pulsing tango rhythm.

Before you can react, Loki takes your hand and spins you toward the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, trying to pull back.

“Keeping up appearances,” he says smoothly, his mask glinting in the light. “We’re a married couple, after all. And what better way to celebrate our love than a dance?”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, but you allow him to lead you onto the floor.

The second your feet touch the polished wood, his hand finds the small of your back, pulling you closer than you expect. His other hand captures yours, holding it just above shoulder height as he begins to move. The tango’s rhythm demands sharp, deliberate steps, and Loki executes them flawlessly, guiding you as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you say, breathless as he spins you.

“I’m full of surprises,” he replies, his voice low and magnetic.

The music swells, the band leaning into the dramatic crescendos, and you feel the tension between you and Loki rise to match it. Every step, every twist of your body against his, feels charged. His hand lingers just a moment too long when it brushes your hip, his fingers grazing the bare skin between your dress and his touch.

“You’re supposed to be watching the targets,” you remind him, though your voice comes out shakier than you’d like.

“Ah, but how could I focus on them when my wife is such a vision?” His tone is playful, but there’s something darker, more serious, behind his words.

As he dips you, your breath catches. The movement is effortless, but the way his eyes bore into yours makes you forget, for a moment, that this is just an act.

The song’s climax hits, and Loki pulls you even closer, his cheek brushing yours as he whispers, “Tell me, darling. Are you pretending to enjoy this as much as I am?”

Your heart pounds, though you refuse to let him see how much he’s affecting you. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you haven’t pushed me away,” he counters, spinning you once more before the final beats of the song.

The last note hangs in the air as Loki holds you in a dramatic pose, his arm wrapped around your waist, his face inches from yours. The applause from the crowd barely registers as you realize your breathing has quickened, your skin warm where his hand rests.

He smirks, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Shall we call this a victory, wife?”

You snap back to reality, pulling away just enough to compose yourself. “Don’t get used to it. We still have a mission.”

“Of course,” he says, though the glint in his eyes suggests he’s far more interested in the game he’s playing with you than the criminals in the room.

As the crowd disperses from the dance floor, you glance toward your targets, who seem to have moved toward a private balcony.

“Come on,” you say, tugging at his arm.

Loki follows, but not before leaning close and murmuring, “I’ll be thinking about that dance for a very long time.”

You don’t dignify him with a response, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you. The mission isn’t over yet, and you can only hope Loki’s antics won’t make things even more complicated.

You and Loki follow the targets carefully, keeping a measured distance as they make their way toward a secluded hallway leading to the gala’s private suites. The corridor is dimly lit, lined with ornate wallpaper and gilded sconces. The murmur of the crowd fades, leaving only the faint echo of footsteps as you press closer to the wall, your pulse quickening with the thrill of being so near to your goal.

“They’re heading to the west wing,” Loki whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “It seems our charming couple prefers privacy for their dealings.”

You nod, your heart pounding as you creep along the edge of the hall, trying to stay out of sight. The couple stops just ahead, speaking in hushed tones. Loki steps closer behind you, his presence almost overwhelming in the enclosed space.

“Keep your focus,” you hiss, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“Oh, I am focused,” he replies, his tone playful but quiet. “Though I can’t help but wonder how much longer we can linger without being noticed.”

It’s a valid concern. The targets seem engrossed in their conversation, but the corridor is too exposed. You glance around, searching for a place to retreat or a better angle to listen in, but before you can decide, one of the criminals glances back sharply, their eyes scanning the hallway.

“They’re looking this way,” Loki mutters, his voice low and urgent.

Panic shoots through you. There’s no time to retreat, no place to hide. Your mind races, and then—on pure instinct—you grab Loki by the lapels of his suit and pull him toward you.

Before he can protest, your lips press against his, your back hitting the wall as you lean into him. His body stiffens for a split second, but then he catches on. His hands come to rest on your waist, fingers curling slightly as he leans into the kiss, matching your urgency with surprising ease.

Your heart hammers in your chest, not just from the danger but from the sudden, electric sensation of Loki’s mouth on yours. His lips are soft yet commanding, his touch both calculated and possessive as he shifts his body to shield you further from view.

“What in the Nine Realms are you doing?” he whispers against your lips, his tone more intrigued than accusatory.

“Keeping us alive,” you murmur back, your voice barely audible as the footsteps approach.

The targets pass by slowly, their footsteps deliberate. You can feel their gaze sweep over you, but you don’t dare look. Instead, you pour every ounce of focus into the act, your fingers curling into the fabric of Loki’s jacket as you deepen the kiss just enough to sell it.

Loki seems to relish the role, tilting his head to deepen the kiss further. His thumb brushes against your waist, sending a shiver through you that has nothing to do with the cold.

A voice interrupts the moment, sharp and disapproving. “This is hardly the place for such displays.”

You part from Loki abruptly, your face hot as you turn to face the source of the scolding. One of the gala’s staff members, an older man in a crisp uniform, stands a few feet away, his expression one of polite disapproval.

“My apologies,” you say quickly, straightening your mask and trying to appear appropriately chastised. “We got… carried away.”

Loki, ever the performer, offers a sheepish smile that’s somehow more seductive than apologetic. “Forgive us. My wife and I have a difficult time restraining our passions.”

The staff member huffs, clearly unimpressed. “There are designated areas for such… activities. Keep it off the main floor.”

“Of course,” Loki replies smoothly, his hand still resting at the small of your back. “We’ll be more discreet.”

The staff member mutters something under his breath before walking away, and you exhale a shaky breath, your heart still racing. The targets are gone, having paid you no more than a passing glance. The plan worked.

You glance up at Loki, whose expression is unreadable behind his mask. “That was quick thinking,” he says finally, though there’s a teasing edge to his voice. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“It was survival,” you retort, stepping out of his hold and straightening your dress. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

He smirks, adjusting his own mask with an air of casual arrogance. “Too late for that, darling. I’m afraid you’ve given me quite a lot to think about.”

You glare at him, though the heat in your cheeks betrays you. “Focus, Loki. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

“Ah, but you see,” he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr, “now I’m more motivated than ever to see this mission through. And who knows? Perhaps we’ll need to use that particular tactic again.”

You roll your eyes, brushing past him as you head back toward the main event. But as much as you want to dismiss his words, the lingering warmth of his kiss—and the way your body seemed to respond to him—stays with you, making it harder to focus than you’d like.

Loki follows close behind, his footsteps quiet but his presence impossible to ignore. And though neither of you speaks it aloud, there’s an unspoken awareness between you now—an understanding that something has shifted. Whether that’s a good thing or a dangerous one, only time will tell.

The ride back to the Avengers Tower is quieter than you expect, though tension hangs in the air, thick and unyielding. The mission was a success; you and Loki gathered enough intel to pinpoint the criminals’ next move and their precise location. As Tony pilots the jet, he and Natasha pore over the information, already strategizing for the intervention. Steve listens intently, his expression serious, while Bruce sits stiffly in his seat, keeping his distance from Loki, though the god seems entirely unfazed.

You sit across from Loki, your mask now discarded, but the memory of the gala’s events lingers. Every stolen glance, every near-discovery, and every moment you spent pressed against him still simmers in the back of your mind. You can feel his eyes on you, and though you refuse to look at him, your body betrays you, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Quite the evening,” Loki says suddenly, his voice smooth and low. His tone carries the same playful edge it always does, but there’s something else lurking beneath it—something darker, hungrier.

“Successful, at least,” you reply, keeping your voice even as you glance at him. “We accomplished what we came to do.”

“Indeed,” he says, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Though I dare say the evening held more… unexpected delights than anticipated.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but before you can respond, Steve interrupts.

“Focus, you two,” he says sharply. “We’ve got work to do.”

Loki’s smirk widens, but he falls silent, leaning back in his seat with a satisfied air. You cross your arms, willing yourself to ignore him, though the memory of his kiss lingers, stubborn and persistent.

When you return to the Tower, the debriefing is quick and efficient. Tony projects the data you and Loki retrieved, detailing the location of the deal and the criminals’ schedule. The team agrees to strike at dawn, using the element of surprise to their advantage. As plans take shape, you feel a flicker of relief. The night’s tension will soon give way to action, and with any luck, this mission will end successfully.

Once the meeting adjourns, you catch Loki’s eye. “Come on,” you say, gesturing for him to follow. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

“As you wish,” he replies, rising gracefully from his seat.

The walk to his quarters is quiet at first. The Tower feels oddly still in the late hours, the hallways dimly lit. You lead the way, your mind spinning as you try to push away the lingering heat of the gala—the dance, the kiss, the way his hands felt on you. Loki walks beside you, his presence magnetic as ever, his gaze lingering on you even when you refuse to meet it.

When you reach his door, you stop, turning to face him. “Goodnight, Loki,” you say, your voice firm but polite.

But before you can step away, he moves closer.

“You’ve been avoiding my eyes all evening,” he says, his voice a low, velvety murmur. “Why is that, darling? Did I do something to unnerve you?”

“No,” you reply quickly, though the catch in your voice betrays you. “I’ve been focused on the mission, that’s all.”

“Liar,” he says softly, his smirk returning. “You’ve been thinking about it. About us. About the way I touched you, held you, kissed you.”

His words send a rush of heat through you, and you take a step back, your back hitting the wall. He follows, closing the distance until he’s mere inches away, his tall frame towering over you.

“Admit it,” he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You felt it, too—the spark, the fire. I see it in your eyes, Y/N. You want me just as much as I want you.”

You open your mouth to protest, but no words come out. Because he’s right. No matter how much you’ve tried to deny it, the truth is undeniable now, burning in every corner of your being.

His hand rises to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his eyes searching yours. “Tell me to walk away, and I will.”

But you don’t.

Instead, you lean into his touch, your resolve crumbling as the need overtakes you. Loki’s eyes darken, his breath hitching as he realizes your answer.

With a groan, he closes the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s nothing like the one at the gala. This kiss is raw, urgent, and unrestrained, a culmination of every unspoken word and every stolen glance. His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips move against yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

And to his surprise—and yours—you kiss him back with just as much passion. Your fingers thread through his dark hair, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the moment. The world falls away, leaving only the heat of his touch and the hunger in his kiss.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing hard, your foreheads resting together. Loki’s hands remain on your waist, his grip firm yet gentle as if he’s afraid you might pull away.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse but tender.

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you press your lips to his again, silencing any words with a kiss that speaks volumes. For now, words don’t matter. All that matters is this—this moment, this connection, this fire that neither of you can deny anymore.

And for the first time, neither of you tries to.

The Tower feels different now, quieter in the wake of the mission’s success. The criminals have been apprehended, their operation dismantled, and SHIELD has taken over for the cleanup. But despite the victory, a strange tension lingers, heavy and unspoken. Fury and Thor are locked in discussions about Loki’s fate, and you and Loki are left waiting in his room, suspended in uncertainty.

The silence between you is unlike any other you’ve shared before. It’s not sharp with banter or charged with playful tension; it’s softer, quieter, tinged with something neither of you is willing to name.

You sit on the edge of the small couch by the window, gazing out at the city lights glittering against the dark sky. Loki leans against the desk, his long fingers idly toying with the edge of a book. For once, he’s still—not prowling or pacing, not filling the room with his restless energy.

“They’re taking their time,” you murmur, your voice cutting through the silence.

“They always do,” Loki replies, though his tone lacks its usual sarcasm.

You glance at him, studying his profile. He looks calm, almost serene, but you’ve spent enough time with him to see through the mask. The faint furrow in his brow, the tension in his jaw, the way his hands grip the book just a little too tightly—they all betray him.

“They’ll make the right decision,” you say softly, more to yourself than to him.

He scoffs lightly but doesn’t look at you. “The right decision,” he repeats, the words laced with bitterness. “That depends entirely on who is defining it.”

You sigh, standing and moving closer to him. “Loki, you helped. You could’ve run at any point during this mission, but you didn’t. That has to count for something.”

His lips twist into a faint smirk, though there’s no humor in it. “And do you think that will sway Fury or my brother? Do you think they’ll forget what I’ve done? The chaos, the destruction?”

“They don’t have to forget,” you say, stepping even closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “But they can see that you’re not the same person who attacked New York. You’ve changed, Loki.”

His gaze finally lifts to meet yours, and for a moment, something raw flashes in his eyes—something vulnerable and uncertain. “Have I?”

You place your hand over his, stilling his restless movements. “Yes. You have. I see it. And if they can’t, then that’s their failure, not yours.”

The room falls into silence again, but this time, it feels different. Loki’s hand shifts beneath yours, his fingers curling around yours as he exhales slowly.

“What do you think they’ll decide?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “But whatever happens, we’ll face it. Together.”

His eyes search yours, and for a moment, the mask falls away entirely. You see the man beneath—the uncertainty, the fear, the hope he doesn’t dare acknowledge.

“You say that as if you’ll still be by my side when this is over,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t hesitate. “I will be.”

His hand tightens on yours, his eyes holding yours as if trying to memorize every detail. Then, without warning, he pulls you closer, his other hand rising to cradle your face.

“If this is to be the last time we’re alone,” he says, his voice trembling slightly, “then let it be a moment worth remembering.”

Your heart aches at the words, at the vulnerability he’s showing. But you don’t argue. Instead, you lean into him, closing the gap between you.

The kiss is different this time. It’s not urgent or hungry but slow and lingering, filled with a quiet desperation. His lips move against yours as if savoring every second, every touch, every taste. His hands are gentle, one cradling your cheek while the other rests on your waist, anchoring you to him.

You lose yourself in him, in the way he holds you like you’re something fragile and precious, in the way his touch feels like both a promise and a farewell.

When you finally part, your foreheads rest together, and the world outside feels impossibly far away.

“No matter what they decide,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly, “you’re not alone. You never will be.”

For a long moment, Loki doesn’t speak. Then he nods, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek as he closes his eyes.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, the words so quiet you almost miss them.

The two of you stay like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the world outside fade away. For now, there’s no SHIELD, no judgment, no uncertain future. There’s only this—this moment, this connection, this fragile yet unbreakable bond.

And for now, that’s enough.

The knock at the door comes like a thunderclap, shattering the fragile stillness you and Loki have wrapped yourselves in. You tense in his arms, and his grip on you tightens briefly before he lets you go, stepping back as though putting distance between you is the only way to shield himself from what’s coming.

You take a deep breath and move to answer the door, Loki trailing behind you. When you open it, you’re greeted by the imposing figures of Nick Fury and Thor. Fury’s face is unreadable, his single eye piercing as it moves between you and Loki. Thor’s expression is graver than you’ve ever seen it, a heaviness in his gaze that sends a chill down your spine.

“May we come in?” Fury asks, his voice clipped.

You nod, stepping aside to let them enter. Loki lingers near the window, his posture deceptively casual as he leans against the wall. But you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curl faintly against his sides.

Fury and Thor take positions near the center of the room, both of them standing tall and commanding. Thor’s gaze lingers on Loki, a mix of concern and judgment flashing across his face.

“We’ve reached a decision,” Fury begins, his tone as sharp as ever. “It wasn’t an easy one, considering everything Loki has done in the past and the risks he poses in the future.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as you glance at Loki. He’s staring at Fury now, his expression a careful mask of indifference.

“Loki Laufeyson,” Thor says, his deep voice cutting through the tension. “Your actions during this mission have proven that you are capable of aiding Midgard without causing harm. However, they do not erase the destruction you have wrought.”

Loki raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “How magnanimous of you, brother. Do get to the point.”

Thor’s jaw tightens, but he presses on. “You will not be returned to Asgard’s dungeons. Instead, you will remain here, under the supervision of SHIELD and the Avengers. Your movements will be restricted, and any deviation from the terms of your parole will result in severe consequences.”

Fury nods. “Think of it as probation. You step out of line, you’re done. No exceptions.”

You exhale a shaky breath, relief flooding through you despite the harshness of their words. Loki isn’t going back to Asgard’s prison. He isn’t being taken away.

Loki, however, seems less than impressed. “So, I am to be your prisoner still, but with a longer leash?”

“Consider it an opportunity,” Thor says, his tone softening slightly. “To prove that you are more than your past mistakes.”

Loki’s smirk fades, and for a moment, something unreadable flashes in his eyes. He looks away, his gaze drifting to the window.

“And what role do I play in this… probation?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

“You’ll assist the Avengers as needed,” Fury says bluntly. “Your skills are… useful, when not being used to destroy things.”

“Charming,” Loki mutters.

Fury ignores the comment, turning his attention to you. “As for you, Y/N, you’ll remain his primary handler. You’ve proven capable of keeping him in check, and frankly, you’re the only one he seems remotely willing to listen to.”

The weight of the responsibility settles over you, but you nod firmly. “Understood.”

Thor steps forward then, his gaze fixed on Loki. “Do not squander this chance, brother. It may be the only one you are given.”

Loki meets his gaze, his expression unreadable. “I’ll endeavor not to disappoint you, Thor.”

The words are polite, but there’s a sharpness to them, a bitterness that hasn’t faded. Thor watches him for a moment longer before nodding and turning to leave. Fury follows, but not before giving you a pointed look.

“Keep him in line,” he says, and then he’s gone, the door closing behind him.

The room falls into silence again, heavier now than before. You turn to Loki, who remains by the window, his back to you.

“Well,” he says finally, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “It seems I’m to be your ward indefinitely. I hope you’re prepared for the burden.”

You take a step closer, your heart aching at the undercurrent of vulnerability in his tone. “Loki… this is a second chance. They didn’t have to give you that.”

He turns to face you, his expression guarded. “A second chance to serve as their pet sorcerer, you mean. To be tolerated, not trusted.”

“It’s more than that,” you insist, moving closer still. “It’s a chance to prove them wrong. To show them who you really are.”

“And who is that, Y/N?” he asks, his voice dropping. “Who do you think I really am?”

You hesitate, your throat tightening as you search for the right words. “I think you’re someone who’s been hurt, someone who’s made mistakes, but someone who’s still capable of doing good. Of being… more.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. Then, to your surprise, he chuckles—a quiet, almost bitter sound.

“You are a strange woman, Y/N,” he says, shaking his head. “But perhaps that’s what I need.”

You smile faintly, stepping even closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “You’ll never have to face this alone, Loki. Not as long as I’m here.”

He gazes at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, slowly, he lifts a hand to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

“You’re maddening, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low and tender.

“Then we’re even,” you reply, your lips quirking into a faint smile.

For the first time that night, his smirk softens into something more genuine. And as he leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, the weight of the world outside fades, leaving only the two of you in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

[amarearts]

I just love drawing @bitsypookums Ahemeit so much and I'm always looking for an excuse to do so! I've spent a couple of days making some fake screenshots to practice backgrounds, but really to have a chance at drawing one (1) fancy sith princess <3.

I imagine she is pretty much the only sith Davin comes close to trusting.

[hunterrrs]

THEY’RE IN LOVE

When Alex Nedeljkovic got to Pittsburgh after signing as a free agent in the offseason, he quickly discovered a shared interest with his new goalie partner, Tristan Jarry – their trucks, as they drive the same Ford pickup, albeit different models, to and from the rink.

“I think Ned and I have found a lot of things that we’ve bonded over, a lot of things that we can talk about. One of the first things was obviously we have the same truck, so it was kind of cool,” Jarry said with a smile. “Just finding key things you can talk about, and I think just keeping the conversation going to learn more about each other, that helps build a relationship both on and off the ice.”

That relationship between Jarry and Nedeljkovic, both 28 years old, is a strong one, and Mike Sullivan believes that’s been a big key for this particular goalie tandem – with the Penguins Head Coach describing them as “1 and 1A.”

“I think they sincerely like one another and root for one another,” Sullivan said. “I think they push one another to be at their best. Both of those guys have played well for us throughout the course of the year. They’ve both played extremely well and have been deserving of being in the net. It makes for a difficult coaching decision every night, but that’s a good challenge to have.”

For Jarry and Nedeljkovic, it’s about finding that balance between being competitive and wanting the net, but also being a good teammate. Because ultimately, all that matters is that they’re giving the team a chance to win every night.

“You can take it too far and be a (jerk) and not talk to a guy, but it just makes it awkward and not friendly. That's not what you want. It's not good,” Nedeljkovic said. “So, you want him to succeed, I want him to do well just as he wants me to do well, and that's how we get better. You’re not gonna do yourself any favors hoping that he does bad and thinking negatively... So, it’s just being a good teammate. It's easy to do, and he's a great guy. He's a good guy off the ice, so it just makes it that much easier.”

As Nedeljkovic put it, they’re just a couple of easygoing guys. Alex is affable and good-natured, and Tristan is laid back with a sly sense of humor “that comes out of nowhere sometimes with some of the jokes, some of the jabs,” Nedeljkovic said.

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

Prediction for the start of season 5

I've been going crazy trying to figure out just how they'll transition into season 5. It certainly seems like "life goes on" in Hawkins despite everything that happened at the end of season 4. While it does seem like there's a military presence in town, there are clues that quite a bit of time has passed.

Aside from dates left on papers on set and whatnot, which could potentially be faked to throw people off, we see character differences that indicate time. El's hair has grown back. It's hard to tell just how long it is now, but it looks to be at least as long as it was in season 3, if not longer. We've seen little of Hopper, but we've been able to see set photos of David with a long beard. Then there's Holly, who seems older even taking into account the casting change.

This tells me we're looking at an approximate 8 months to one year time skip. While we might see some immediate aftermath from after the ending of season 4, the bulk of season 5 seems to be set in late Fall/early Winter of 1987. This isn't taking into account a possible rumored second time skip considering they're only halfway through filming.

So, how do we go from the end of the world to almost a year later? Well, there wasn't much that could be done in the position our heroes are in. Here's what I think happens after that final scene in the field.

Shortly after the "earthquake," an Army Corps of Engineers detachment arrives to help rebuild, overseen by Lt. Col. Sullivan. They proceed to block off affected areas for "safety concerns" under the pretense of having to seal up the fissures to allow for later rebuilding. In reality, they are setting up research stations and entry points while also preventing anyone else from getting in...or anything getting out.

Blocked off from being able to go after the weakened Vecna, and now faced with the concern of Sullivan possibly finding El, the heroes have to regroup. They both need to be able to hide El and have a safe base of operations. Agent Stinson arranges to set El and Hopper in the old WSQK radio station under the guise of the station being under new ownership.

While researching, I found out that many old radio stations had emergency shelters built by the government during the Cold War in case of a nuclear attack. Like the Dept of Energy Lab before it, the radio station would serve as a legitimate front for getting equipment and other resources they may need for what they're really up to. The shelter would also provide a place to hide their real activity and keep El safe. It may also even potentially provide access to the areas the military blocked off if the shelters contain escape tunnels.

We would essentially find out that the time since the end of season 4 were spent with the heroes trying to find a way into the Upside Down to get Henry while he's weak. However, it's just not possible with the military presence. The mission turns to trying to monitor both the military and the Upside Down threat until a window presents itself.

What might be the event that provides this window? I have some ideas.

The military breaches a Gate, which allows for Upside Down creatures to get out.

El has a breakthrough in her search for Max, providing them a critical clue.

Henry comes back to full strength, leading to Will getting Harry Potter-like visions of his plans.

Problems I have with this idea:

El is once again living in hiding, just as she did in season 2. I can't imagine she's able to get any kind of education unless Owens' people can set her up with tutoring.

The Byers being in town would certainly tip off Sullivan, and it doesn't look like they're lying low. I suppose they could feign moving back to Hawkins because they think she's dead.

What is up with Owens, and would his people even have the ability to do anything after the losses sustained from Sullivan's actions?

Why the hell would anyone even stay in Hawkins? This isn't the first disaster the town has dealt with in the past few years. I suppose it would cause property values to plummet to levels that could prompt a rich family to buy up land in preparation for owning everything after rebuilding. There was a Turnbow Land Development & Realty ad seen on set.

Does anyone else have thoughts on this?

[book--brackets]

Valdemar: Heralds of Valdemar by Mercedes Lackey (1987-1988)

Chosen by the Companion Rolan, a mystical horse-like being with powers beyond imagining, Talia, once a runaway, has now become a trainee Herald, destined to become one of the Queen's own elite guard. For Talia has certain awakening talents of the mind that only a Companion like Rolan can truly sense.But as Talia struggles to master her unique abilities, time is running out. For conspiracy is brewing in Valdemar, a deadly treason that could destroy Queen and kingdom. Opposed by unknown enemies capable of both diabolical magic and treacherous assassination, the Queen must turn to Talia and the Heralds for aid in protecting the realm and insuring the future of the Queen's heir, a child already in danger of becoming bespelled by the Queen's own foes.

The Memoirs of Lady Trent by Marie Brennan (2013-2019)

You, dear reader, continue at your own risk. It is not for the faint of heart--no more so than the study of dragons itself. But such study offers rewards beyond compare: to stand in a dragon's presence, even for the briefest of moments--even at the risk of one's life--is a delight that, once experienced, can never be forgotten. . . .

All the world, from Scirland to the farthest reaches of Eriga, know Isabella, Lady Trent, to be the world's preeminent dragon naturalist. She is the remarkable woman who brought the study of dragons out of the misty shadows of myth and misunderstanding into the clear light of modern science. But before she became the illustrious figure we know today, there was a bookish young woman whose passion for learning, natural history, and, yes, dragons defied the stifling conventions of her day.

Here at last, in her own words, is the true story of a pioneering spirit who risked her reputation, her prospects, and her fragile flesh and bone to satisfy her scientific curiosity; of how she sought true love and happiness despite her lamentable eccentricities; and of her thrilling expedition to the perilous mountains of Vystrana, where she made the first of many historic discoveries that would change the world forever.

Entwined by Heather Dixon Wallwork (2011)

Just when Azalea should feel that everything is before her—beautiful gowns, dashing suitors, balls filled with dancing—it's taken away. All of it. And Azalea is trapped. The Keeper understands. He's trapped, too, held for centuries within the walls of the palace. So he extends an invitation.

Every night, Azalea and her eleven sisters may step through the enchanted passage in their room to dance in his silver forest, but there is a cost. The Keeper likes to keep things. Azalea may not realize how tangled she is in his web until it is too late.

Akata Witch by Nnedi Okorafor (2011-2022)

Twelve-year-old Sunny lives in Nigeria, but she was born American. Her features are African, but she's albino. She's a terrific athlete, but can't go out into the sun to play soccer. There seems to be no place where she fits in. And then she discovers something amazing--she is a free agent with latent magical power. Soon she's part of a quartet of magic students, studying the visible and invisible, learning to change reality. But will it be enough to help them when they are asked to catch a career criminal who knows magic too?

Serafina by Robert Beatty (2015-2019)

Serafina has never had a reason to disobey her pa and venture beyond the grounds of the Biltmore estate. There's plenty to explore in her grand home, although she must take care to never be seen. None of the rich folk upstairs know that Serafina exists; she and her pa, the estate's maintenance man, have secretly lived in the basement for as long as Serafina can remember.

But when children at the estate start disappearing, only Serafina knows who the culprit is: a terrifying man in a black cloak who stalks Biltmore's corridors at night. Following her own harrowing escape, Serafina risks everything by joining forces with Braeden Vanderbilt, the young nephew of the Biltmore's owners. Braeden and Serafina must uncover the Man in the Black Cloak's true identity before all of the children vanish one by one.

Serafina's hunt leads her into the very forest that she has been taught to fear. There she discovers a forgotten legacy of magic, one that is bound to her own identity. In order to save the children of Biltmore, Serafina must seek the answers that will unlock the puzzle of her past.

The Children of the Red King by Jenny Nimmo (2002-2009)

The fabulous powers of the Red King were passed down through his descendants, after turning up quite unexpectedly, in someone who had no idea where they came from. This is what happened to Charlie Bone, and to some of the children he met behind the grim, gray walls of Bloor's Academy.

His scheming aunts decide to send him to Bloor Academy, a school for geniuses where he uses his gifts to discover the truth despite all the dangers that lie ahead.

Fairyland by Catherynne M. Valente (2011-2016)

Twelve-year-old September lives in Omaha, and used to have an ordinary life, until her father went to war and her mother went to work. One day, September is met at her kitchen window by a Green Wind (taking the form of a gentleman in a green jacket), who invites her on an adventure, implying that her help is needed in Fairyland. The new Marquess is unpredictable and fickle, and also not much older than September. Only September can retrieve a talisman the Marquess wants from the enchanted woods, and if she doesn't . . . then the Marquess will make life impossible for the inhabitants of Fairyland. September is already making new friends, including a book-loving Wyvern and a mysterious boy named Saturday.

World of the Five Gods by Lois McMaster Bujold (2001-2005)

Lord Cazaril has been in turn courier, courtier, castle-warder, and captain; now he is but a crippled ex-galley slave seeking nothing more than a menial job in the kitchens of the Dowager Provincara, the noble patroness of his youth. But Fortunes wheel continues to turn for Cazaril, and he finds himself promoted immediately to the exalted and dangerous position of secretary-tutor to the Iselle, the beautiful, fiery sister of the heir to Chalion’s throne.

Amidst the decaying splendour and poisonous intrigue of Chalion’s ancient capital, Cardegoss, Cazaril is forced to encounter both old enemies and surprising allies, as he seeks to lift the curse of misfortune that clings to the royal family of Chalion, and to all who come too close to them...

Keys to the Kingdom by Garth Nix (2003-2010)

Arthur Penhaligon's first days at his new school don't go too well, particularly when a fiendish Mister Monday appears, gives Arthur a magical clock hand, and then orders his gang of dog-faced goons to chase Arthur around and get it back. But when the confused and curious boy discovers that a mysterious virus is spreading through town, he decides to enter an otherworldly house to stop it. After meeting Suzy Blue and the first part of "the Will" (a frog-looking entity that knows everything about the House), Arthur learns that he's been selected as Rightful Heir to the House and must get the other part of the clock hand in order to defeat Monday. That means getting past Monday's henchmen and journeying to the Dayroom itself. Thankfully, Arthur is up to the challenge, but as he finds out, his fight seems to be only one-seventh over.

The Riyria Chronicles by Michael J. Sullivan (2013-present)

Hadrian Blackwater, a warrior with nothing to fight for, is paired with Royce Melborn, a thieving assassin with nothing to lose. Hired by an old wizard, they must steal a treasure that no one can reach. The Crown Tower is the impregnable remains of the grandest fortress ever built and home to the realm's most prized possessions. But it isn't gold or jewels that the wizard is after, and if he can just keep them from killing each other, they just might succeed.

[goaliekisses]

woof juicy news day for us pens fans. not only do we have sidney crosby’s Seduction of kyle dubas, now we have this article on Why Hextall Sucks (and how he pissed off even sidney crosby) + some angsty Geno details that i will only relish now that he’s still with us:

Early last summer, at his spacious home in Montreal, Kris Letang finally saw the document that secured his future in Pittsburgh.

No stranger to the multi-page, standard player contract, this one was particularly special. It was his fourth, and probably his last. It contained specific elements Letang and his agent required. One line read “six years.” Another read “$36.6 million.” The line that Letang really loved?: “full no-movement clause.”

Together, those words recommitted Letang and the Penguins, the only NHL franchise he had ever known. At 35, he would finish his career in Pittsburgh.

As word spread last July 7, Letang’s phone blew up. The flood of well-wishers included teammates past and present, various Penguins personnel he’d befriended over his previous 16 seasons, and family and friends. He took only a few calls. Among them: Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin, his oldest and dearest teammates in Pittsburgh, who were thrilled for him.

Crosby, the Penguins captain and franchise icon, had made it clear to general manager Ron Hextall and president of hockey operations Brian Burke as far back as the 2021 offseason that he wanted the team to re-sign impending free agents Letang and Malkin so the three veterans and lifetime Penguins could take another shot at a Stanley Cup together.

Would Crosby pressure ownership to sign Malkin and Letang? “I’ve never wanted to be GM,” Crosby said. “I think they know how I feel.”

While the negotiations with Letang took longer and were more difficult than expected, Hextall’s discussions with Malkin had turned dark. Only days before the start of free agency last summer, Letang, Crosby and coach Mike Sullivan worked overtime trying to calm Malkin, who was stewing over lowball early contract offers, limited communication with Hextall and veiled public shots from Burke.

“How bad is it?” Letang asked Crosby about the state of Malkin’s emotions and the negotiations.

“Pretty bad,” Crosby said.

Hextall first irritated Malkin late in the 2021-22 season by offering a short-term contract extension to his agent, J.P. Barry. In the offseason that animosity built as weeks passed without a follow-up conversation from Hextall. On June 17, Hextall told Barry that the team’s offer was “take-it-or-leave-it,” and the next day Burke used those words to characterize the negotiations during multiple media interviews. Not surprisingly, Malkin, a sure Hall-of-Famer, went from annoyed to insulted.

For weeks leading up to and after Letang’s deal was finalized, Malkin stewed at home while Crosby, Letang and Sullivan checked in with him from afar. With no deal in sight, Malkin began speaking to his small inner circle as if his time with the Penguins was concluding.

Hextall fielded daily questions from Fenway Sports Group brass about why Malkin hadn’t yet been re-signed. Hextall was also taken aback by the barrage of calls and texts — from Penguins alternate governor Dave Beeston, from Crosby and Sullivan, from president of business operations Kevin Acklin — after reports surfaced that Malkin would test free agency. He told his agent he wanted to “show Hextall and Burke” by trying the open market.

Malkin had joked during the ’21-22 season that he was “a rich guy,” insisting he didn’t need to worry about money on his next contract. He was having a laugh, but was also somewhat serious. He had taken less than market value on two previous deals with the Penguins and expected that trend to continue on his final NHL contract.

He was about to turn 36. He wanted to play until he was 40. He sought a contract with a no-trade clause. But more than money, he needed the Penguins to show they really wanted him, something he felt was lacking, especially from Hextall. By July 11, 2022, Malkin was convinced he’d already practiced in Cranberry for the last time.

After tucking in their son, Nikita, Malkin and his wife, Anna, sat on their leather couch and looked at a summary sheet of Hextall’s latest offer: four seasons, $24.4 million total, a full no-movement clause.

Malkin was fine with what he read. The sticking point was his bruised feelings.

“They not think I good player,” Malkin wrote in a text message to Crosby.

“They not want me,” Malkin texted to Letang, who had stepped up efforts to console Malkin after signing his deal.

Malkin wanted to stay in Pittsburgh, but he no longer trusted either Hextall or Burke. Crosby and Sullivan intervened. Each spent hours on the phone with Malkin as July 11 became July 12. Careful not to tell him what to do, Crosby and Sullivan implored Malkin to “not worry about those guys” — Hextall and Burke — when making a final decision. Letang, too, jumped into the mix. Together, two-thirds of the Big Three and their coach brought up every special moment, funny story and great time they could remember to remind Malkin what they had built in Pittsburgh. Malkin paced from room to room at his condo in Fisher Island, finally beginning to feel wanted again.

As early morning shifted to late afternoon, Malkin had heard enough to make a decision. He called his agent, Barry, with instructions to re-engage with Hextall and take the offer. Upon calling, Barry was surprised to find a receptive Hextall.

After hanging up with Barry, Hextall bragged to his assistant GM, Chris Pryor, and a handful of staffers, that he “got him on my terms — that’s how you negotiate.” Malkin informed Crosby, Letang and Sullivan that he was staying. When talking to Crosby and Letang, Malkin sounded happy for the first time in a long time.

“We win next year,” Malkin told his friends. “Big year get back Cup.”

also these bits 🥺

After McGinn was put on waivers, he played a memorable final game with the Penguins, blocking shots and setting up Crosby for a dramatic tying goal in the third period. In the locker room afterward, his soon-to-be-former teammates named him player of the game, eliciting a massive roar from the group that could be heard through closed doors.

Hextall traded Teddy Blueger during the same trip. In the middle of a dinner with the players’ fathers, arranged by Crosby at Bern’s Steakhouse in Tampa, Blueger learned via social media that he had been dealt to Vegas. He and his dad abruptly left the restaurant. Crosby rushed to console his now former teammate and after a few minutes returned to the dinner. “That’s not how we do things in Pittsburgh,” he said. Crosby remained mostly quiet the rest of the night.

…Long after most of their teammates had left the locker room after the demoralizing 5-2 defeat, the Big Three remained.

Malkin was emotional, his voice rising as he spoke. He had been dreaming of his beloved parents, Natalia and Vladimir, returning to Pittsburgh for another postseason run. Instead, they’d stay in Russia.

Letang, in the adjacent corner of the room, spoke thoughtfully and contemplatively. He had been through hell and back all season, and the Penguins’ loss was another blow.

Then there was Crosby, who sits at the center of an arc of connected lockers. The Penguins captain, with gray hairs that seemed to grow more plentiful throughout the season, sat stoically. After finishing interviews, Crosby sat by himself, staring straight ahead before slowly walking out of the locker room.

sorry need to add the header too because i would totally watch this telenovella

[darkmaga-returns]

Kash Patel, President-elect Donald Trump’s pick for FBI director, has released a list of 60 “deep state” adversaries he plans to target immediately when he begins his role next year.

The list, which includes President Joe Biden and network analysts, is detailed in his 2022 book Government Gangsters.

In the book’s appendix, titled “Members of the Executive Branch Deep State,” Patel lists those names alphabetically but acknowledges that the list is not exhaustive.

Patel said other “corrupt actors” could include Rep. Eric Swalwell (D-CA), Senator-elect Adam Schiff (D-CA), ex-congressman Paul Ryan, author of the Trump-Russia Steele Dossier Christopher Steele.

Patel also reassures the public he will be going after “the entire fake news mafia press corp.”

Here’s the list:

Michael Atkinson – Former inspector general of the intelligence community Lloyd Austin – Secretary of Defense under President Joe Biden Brian Auten – Supervisory intelligence analyst, FBI James Baker – Former general counsel for the FBI and Twitter executive Bill Barr – Former attorney general under Trump John Bolton – Former national security adviser under Trump Stephen Boyd – Former chief of legislative affairs, FBI Joe Biden – President of the United States John Brennan – Former CIA director under President Obama John Carlin – Former DOJ national security division head under Trump Eric Ciaramella – Former National Security Council staffer Pat Cipollone – Former White House counsel under Trump James Clapper – Former director of national intelligence under Obama Hillary Clinton – Former Secretary of State and presidential candidate James Comey – Former FBI director Elizabeth Dibble – Former deputy chief of mission, U.S. Embassy, London Mark Esper – Former Secretary of Defense under Trump Alyssa Farah – Former strategic communications director under Trump Evelyn Farkas – Former Pentagon official under Obama Sarah Isgur Flores – Former DOJ communications head under Trump Merrick Garland – Attorney General under Biden Stephanie Grisham – Former White House press secretary under Trump Kamala Harris – Vice President and former presidential candidate Gina Haspel – Former CIA director under Trump Fiona Hill – Former National Security Council staffer Curtis Heide – FBI agent Eric Holder – Former attorney general under Obama Robert Hur – Special counsel for Biden document investigation Cassidy Hutchinson – Former assistant to Trump Chief of Staff Mark Meadows Nina Jankowicz – Former head of Biden���s Disinformation Governance Board Lois Lerner – Former IRS official under Obama Loretta Lynch – Former attorney general under Obama Charles Kupperman – Former deputy national security adviser under Trump Gen. Kenneth McKenzie (Ret.) – Former CENTCOM commander Andrew McCabe – Former FBI deputy director Ryan McCarthy – Former Secretary of the Army under Trump Mary McCord – Former DOJ national security division head Denis McDonough – Former Obama chief of staff, current VA secretary Gen. Mark Milley (Ret.) – Former chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Lisa Monaco – Deputy attorney general under Biden Robert Mueller – Former FBI director and Russiagate special counsel Bruce Ohr – Former DOJ official under Obama and Trump Nellie Ohr – Former CIA employee Lisa Page – Former FBI counsel Pat Philbin – Former deputy White House counsel under Trump John Podesta – Former Obama adviser, current Biden climate adviser Samantha Power – Former U.N. ambassador under Obama, current USAID administrator Bill Priestap – Former FBI counterintelligence chief Susan Rice – Former Obama national security adviser Rod Rosenstein – Former deputy attorney general under Trump Peter Strzok – Former FBI counterintelligence agent Jake Sullivan – National Security Adviser under Biden Michael Sussman – Former DNC lawyer Miles Taylor – Former DHS official under Trump Timothy Thibault – Former FBI agent Andrew Weissman – Mueller’s Russiagate deputy Alexander Vindman – Former National Security Council official Christopher Wray – Current FBI director under Trump and Biden Sally Yates – Former deputy attorney general under Obama Adam Schiff – Senator-elect and former House Intelligence Committee chairman

Earlier this month, Patel announced the “massive declassification” of troves of information ranging from the Jeffrey Epstein files to the “P Diddy” list.

Patel told Conservative podcast host Benny Johnson that releasing documents that implicate the Department of Justice and FBI for their illegal surveillance of over 250,000 Americans.