#but i’m used to seeing it! and i forget not everyone is

[gumii-bearr]

thinking about the first time megumi calls you a pet name.

you’d been dating for a while, a few months at that point, but he was always reluctant to use a pet name for you.

he preferred to call you by your name or the nickname everyone gives you.

but maybe it’s yuji that changes his mind.

“wait— fushiguro, you don’t call her baby? or sweetie? pookie maybe?? just y/n?”

“…that’s her name.”

but the thought lingers for weeks and he starts thinking about all the things that you call him.

“hey, gumi!”

“hi, baby,�� before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“oh my god, gumi you have to see this!”

“thank you, sweet boy—“

since when did you start giving him pet names? perhaps it’s because it sounds so natural coming from you. you say cute pet names with such confidence behind them that he barely registers that you’re the only one who calls him those things.

there are a few failed attempts where the cute pet name he totally didn’t spend hours thinking about in his dorm last night, gets stuck in his throat and he just ends up hiding his red face in the collar of his jacket.

pet names don’t come naturally to megumi. before he met you, he thought pet names were sort of cringey and lame, that they sounded stupid.

but he feels so fuzzy when you say them, your smile bright and beaming, your sparkly eyes making him weak at the knees and the adorable pet name sending a jab right through his chest.

so there’s a second attempt.

and a third,

and a fourth,

before he gets it out without stuttering over his words and wishing the floor would swallow him whole because you didn’t hear him or it came out as a choked cough rather than an actual word—

“hi baby! i picked us up some pizza… i thought we could catch up on our watch list tonight.”

and megumi gulps back the lump in his throat, clammy hands clutching the material of his sweats—

“sounds good… babe.”

and you pause, a smile beaming across your face and you slowly turn to him.

“what was that—?”

“nothing.”

“no, what did you call me?”

“forget it.”

“wait, don’t be embarrassed, gumi!”

“too late, i’m going to ask shoko for her strongest shit so i can forget what just happened—“

and you giggle, tugging on his sleeve as he attempts to writhe away from you on the bed, pressing his face into the nearest pillow as you clamber over him with a cheeky smile.

“did you call me a pet name mr. fushiguro?”

“and i’ll regret it til i die.”

“oh, boo.”

safe to say he tends to stick with calling you your name or your offical nickname, but there are some rarer occasions where it slips out.

like when he’s unbelievably tired and sore from a day of sparring and missions, and he sneaks into your dorm and crawls into bed with you.

“long day, hm?”

“mm, i feel better now though.”

and you stroke his hair, “get some sleep then, ��kay?”

“mhm… thank you, baby.”

and you just smile against his hair, he doesn’t realise what he’s said and it’s better that way, because it makes it a little more special.

[ihavenointerestinreallife]

family relations | 18+ mdni

everyone knew that where fred went, george was right behind him; even if nobody could tell them apart half the time, two identical ginger boys always signaled trouble. 

when you showed up–someone with a stark difference in look to the two boys–it immediately raised an eyebrow. while not rare to see the two twins apart, it was a sight to see them accompanied by someone other than another member of their family, often at least. 

with the amount of nosy students at hogwarts it didn’t take long until someone got curious. 

“she’s just a part of the family,” george would say. 

“she’s like a sister to us, really,” fred would add not long after. 

— 

holidays with the weasley family were always chaotic to say the least. it seemed every year a new person stayed for christmas in the burrow, most notably in recent years harry and hermione joining their best friend ron–this year, the family home saw you as its new addition. 

the weasley family home had been filled to the brim since the birth of ginny, and the addition of companions only brightened it with more love. 

on christmas morning, everyone who didn’t own one already (or miraculously lost their original) received their first of molly’s many knitted sweaters, all personalized with their first initial. you’d never forget the first christmas you reunited with the twins wearing their own sweaters. 

“did mrs. weasley make those so she could remember which of you is which?” you asked. 

“mother says she could never forget who is who, which i guess is why i’m wearing his sweater, and he’s wearing mine,” fred would reply. 

when the day came for you to receive your own, the twins had visibly outgrown the jumpers you first saw them in, instead adorning new pairs to fit their growing builds. 

“molly, it’s beautiful! i dreamed of the day i’d get my own,” you said, running your fingers along the woollen fabric. 

“i’m glad you like it dear- and look, now you match freddie and georgie.” 

your head whipped in the direction of the two boys to confirm her words, and she was right. you matched fred and george from the overall blue color to the yellow letter. 

the way they looked at you then, you knew you could get used to matching sweaters. 

— 

you were purely friends with the twins up until your shared sixth year when they went to the yule ball with angelina johnson and katie bell. sure, the way they looked at you for the past year and a half had you questioning everything you felt for them. and sure, having them next to you at every given moment–closely, at that–made you think things friends wouldn’t dare say out loud- but this was a whole new level. 

molly had sent all the hogwarts attending weasley children outfits to wear to the ball; ginny a bright pink and mint gown, ron a very explicit hand me down likely of bill or percy’s, and the twins looked dashing in their matching suits. but you knew they could look even better, each hanging off one of your arms. 

instead you had the pleasure of watching both fred and george dance multiple rounds with their dates, while you sat next to harry and ron, also bummed out by how terrible the evening had gone. 

“they wanted to go with you, you know.” 

you jumped, turning your head to hermione who seemed to be itching to escape the crowd. 

“don’t be silly hermione, we’re just friends.” you muttered as you chewed on your lips, effectively removing them of any color you stained them with. “besides, you saw how eager they were when they asked angelina and katie in potions.” 

“or they were just trying to tease ron, you know how brothers are.” hermione looked at you with pity, as if there was someone she had hoped would ask her to the ball as well. 

the moment you decided to guess who she’d hoped would have asked her, your eyes scanned the crowd for either fred or george. it was futile for a second, until on either side of the floor you noticed both twins sneaking a glance back at you, both still occupied in dances with their dates. 

“hermione,” you began, tone laced with shyness despite how loud the music drowned your words out, “how would i know if my feelings surpassed friendly?” 

— 

it only took a day for feelings to be admitted by all three parties, only taking half of another for you to find yourself sandwiched in bed by both of the twins. robes had been discarded by the door, and you weren’t even sure you’d be able to find your scarf considering how long it had been gone. 

the boys sat knee to knee with you straddling both their laps, george to your front and fred to your back. they worked together to pull your hair off your neck, and then to unleash your tie from its collar, effectively exposing your bare skin to them. 

it didn’t feel real when the warmth of fred’s lips ghosted your skin, not even a semblance of it when they finally latched on. the amount of times you dreamt of them touching you intimately could not have prepared you for the feeling. 

“does it feel good when he kisses you like that?” george teased knowing you wouldn’t be able to catch your breath in time to reply. 

“yes georgie- fuck,” you moaned as fred bit down and sucked like a man tasked with marking you as his own. “freddie, people will see..” 

“let them love, they’d put the pieces together soon anyways.” he bit down again only a couple inches away from the first love bite, effectively securing the notion of nosy onlookers creating their own story to tell off. 

and tell off they would when every week new patches would show on your neck. the twins took turns marking you in places just indecent enough to turn heads, but not enough to solidify any real narrative about the three of you. 

a couple of weeks of people swearing they saw you snogging both twins at once in the gryffindor common room had at least one person becoming bold enough to ask you how you really felt about fred and george:

“they’re like my brothers, really.” 

— 

happy valentines day <3

[traveler-at-heart]

Average

Summary: Natasha and you make an unlikely pair.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

“Describe yourself in one word”

Boring.

No, not boring. You’ve traveled, even if it was to the places everyone goes to when they’re backpacking through Europe.

You have friends, go out to the movies, you love concerts.

Like everyone else. You are like everyobody else.

Average.

“Y/N?” Holly insists, making you snap out of your thoughts.

Right, this is about her dating profile, not an existencial crisis inducing question for you.

You can focus on that while you take your Thursday bath.

“Curious” you offer.

“Like the monkey”

“Adventurous”

“So a harlot?”

“Oh, my God! Difficult, the word you are looking for is difficult” you sigh, crashing against your desk. Your friend laughs, going back to her phone.

“I’m writing down sexy”

—

The question sticks with you as you go back home.

Average height, average hair color. Regular clothes. 9 to 5 job. You’re smart, but not particularly good at anything.

There’s nothing outstanding about your small, normal family life as well.

And honestly? You like it, but if you were to go out with someone tomorrow, would you even know what to talk about?

It’s one of those days, where you aren’t sure if you’re stuck in your comfort zone or happy and fulfilled with what you have.

While you prepare dinner for one and eat in front of the tv, you can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow will be out of the ordinary.

—

Careful what you wish for.

Flying aliens across New York are definitely out of the ordinary.

When you wished for an exciting day, you kinda hoped to spot a celebrity, or eat something nice out. Not be a first hand witness of the end of the world.

People are running in every direction, screaming terrified. You’re ready to join the mass hysteria, but something makes you look around the street.

There’s a woman trapped under some metal, struggling to free herself.

Aliens blast around you, and you’re torn.

Run.

And you do, except that against all logic, it’s towards the woman.

“You need to evacuate” she says, waving her hand. “Someone come in, damn it”

Judging by her outfit, and the way she places her fingers over her ear, she must be an agent in the field.

The woman probably knows how to protect herself. Maybe she could easily get out of it. Or it’s her job to die to protect others.

Either way, it’s unacceptable for you to leave her behind.

“Come on” you use a piece of a spaceship for leverage, lifting the heavy object that’s trapping her.

“Careful” when she looks up, she sees one of the aliens throwing something at you. Pushing you out of the way, you both stumble down the destroyed street until a tall man comes to the rescue.

“Took your sweet time” the woman complains.

“Sorry. Who are you?”

“A citizen. Take her to safety”

“Wait” you plead, but he’s already carrying you to the evacuation zone.

“I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Steve Rogers”

Oh, well, getting carried by Captain America definitely doesn’t happen to you every day.

Wish granted.

—

It’s been a week and the city is slowly getting rebuilt. It’s not like they have another choice. New York can’t stop, not even for an alien invasion.

So, life goes back to being the same.

9 to 5, cooking, old movies.

Meeting with friends, who were eager to hear your story about being rescued by Captain America. In a few days, they’d forget.

You seem to have a problem with that, because you can’t forget that beautiful woman and her red hair, striking green eyes looking at you while you helped her.

It’s stupid, really. You don’t even know her name.

But as days go by, you remember more things that seemed to be lost in the moment.

That cute little nose, her full lips.

She’s the most beautiful…

“Excuse me”

It takes you a moment to understand someone’s speaking to you. As you turn around, you find the woman, staring at you with a smile.

“Hi” you say, a little too loudly.

“Hello. Glad to see you made it out safely”

“Yes, well, Captain America made sure of that” you nod, fidgeting with your hands.

Now that there’s no aliens or an imminent threat, her attention is on you and nothing else, which makes you squirm a little.

“Can I… buy you a coffee? To thank you for saving my life”

“No need to thank me” you say, hoping she asks again because you’re eager to spend time with her.

“I insist” she says with a smile.

That’s all it takes for you to agree.

She let’s you choose the place, a small café close to where you live.

You finally learn her name when the barista takes her coffee order.

Natasha.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N” she says when you get your own drink, and she pays for the both of you. “Wanna sit down for a bit?”

Of course, you want to know everything you can about Natasha. So you nod, and let her pick a table for you to sit.

“I’m really grateful”

“It’s what anyone…”

“Most people were running away from danger, not towards it. Especially for a stranger” she says, smiling.

You decide that you really like her smile.

“Well, most of my friends wouldn’t believe me if I told them it happened. I’m a pretty average person”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah” you shrug your shoulders.

“Tell me your favorite song” she asks suddenly and you roll your eyes. “What?”

“That’s such a generic question! I have tons of them, it depends on my mood”

“Favorite song to dance to while cleaning” Natasha asks again and this time you nod, thinking about it.

“The Piña Colada song” you say, trying not to laugh. “You?”

“Uhm… Bad Reputation” she confesses.

“Yeah, you look like a Joan Jett kind of girl”

“Is that good or bad?” Natasha arches her eyebrows, intrigued.

“It means you’re a badass and cool. I think, don’t take my word for it”

“No; I think I will”

You sip your drink, feeling intimidated by her intense stare.

“How did you find me?” you ask, remembering she only knew what you look like.

“It’s kind of my job to find people. What’s yours?”

“Something far less interesting” you deflect the question, but Natasha keeps looking at you. “Data analysis”

“Sounds important”

“It isn’t” you say, smiling. “Not as much as saving the world, at least”

You keep talking for a bit, until Natasha gets a call. That’s fine, you know how to take a hint.

While she’s talking, you go up to the counter and ask for another coffee and a sandwich.

“Are you still hungry? We can get something to eat” Natasha says, concerned. You find it endearing.

“No, it’s fine. Thanks for the coffee”

“I don’t think it’s enough to thank you”

“You really don’t have to”

“Let’s go to the movies another time. Would you like that?” Natasha says, smiling as you bite your lip.

“Yeah, ok”

“I think I should get your number, just in case”

You agree with a smile.

And after the short walk home, you hear your phone ping.

Natasha: Wednesday at 7?

Y/N: See you then :)

—

It’s strange, to develop a friendship with someone whose life is the opposite of yours.

Natasha always asks you things about yourself, things that you think are irrelevant. But maybe she does it because her work is all about secrets, and there’s not much to share on anything else.

“Did you go to prom?” she asks one night as you’re walking back to your apartment.

“Yeah, with my gay best friend. We were each other’s beards”

That makes Natasha laugh, but for some reason she tenses a second later, standing in front of you.

“Hey, Y/N” a man says, and you recognise the voice instantly. Your hand goes around Natasha’s wrist, sliding all the way to hold her hand. You squeeze once to let her know it’s ok, and the man in front of you is not a threat.

“Homer, hi” you greet the man who is usually living in abandoned buildings. “Did you get the clothes I left for you?”

“I did and I shared them with Pop, we’re nice and warm now”

“Alright, I’ll stop by later in the week with some food, ok?”

“Much appreciated. Have a good one, ladies”

He’s pretty harmless, but you understand that Natasha has to be on guard all the time.

“I’m sorry” she says, still holding your hand. “I tend to think the worst of people”

“From everyone? Including me?”

“Never you” she shakes her head. “You’re too kind”

“I’m just an average person” you repeat, the same way you’ve done your whole life.

“You’re wrong” Natasha says.

She doesn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the walk.

—

It’s been a few months since you started hanging out with Natasha. There are times when she’s away for days, or weeks, and you just know she’ll show up after the mission.

You’re always home and you’re always there to welcome her back.

A part of you is still playing dumb, but you know those lingering stares and small touches are becoming a problem. Each time, your heart beats faster, and you find that you spend more and more time wondering what it would be like to kiss her.

There’s gotta be a way to stop these foolish dreams, because Natasha is an agent, a trained spy, and a hero. You are a girl from the midwest, who moved to a big city and still gets lost in the subway from time to time.

Maybe spending less time together could be the solution, but it’s impossible for you to say no to her.

Which is why you’re waiting outside of the theater. You don’t really like ballet, or rather, it’s a little too sophisticated for your simple mind, but Natasha insisted on taking you, and buying you some fancy clothes.

It all sounds very nice, except she’s not here and you’re freezing, refusing to head inside until you see her.

Natasha’s phone is dead too.

After an hour, you convince yourself to head home, and call a cab. It’s too far away to walk with these heels that were also not your idea.

You stop by the café that you and Natasha like, ordering a hot cocoa for you and coffee and a sandwich for another woman who is usually sleeping in the streets.

“Looking like a million dollars” she says, accepting the food with a smile. “Did you have a good time?”

“No, not really. My friend didn’t show” you sigh.

“Is it the girl that follows you around everywhere like a lost puppy?”

You laugh at that. There’s no way the Black Widow acts like a lost puppy around you.

“You mean my friend Natasha? Yeah, she was probably busy with work”

“Her loss” the woman tsks.

“Well, here” you notice the air is cold and the woman’s gloves are basically shreds of fabric. “These will help”

“You’re a doll”

Another hour goes by and just as you’re about to leave and look for Natasha, she rushes to your door, knocking frantically.

“I’m sorry, mission ran long”

Of course you step aside to let her in, because you can never be mad at her for being busy saving the world. But still, you stay silent as you walk to the kitchen, knowing she’ll be right behind you.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you? Of course, you have every right to be. I made you dress up and then stood you up…”

“Nat” you interrupt her, frowning. “I don’t care about that. I’m a big girl, I could have gone inside and enjoyed the show. I just…”

“What? What is it?”

“Well, I was really scared about you” you confess, turning your back to her. “I know enough about your job to understand it’s dangerous, and I just kept fearing the worst. Would it have been so difficult to text me to let me know you were ok?”

You finish your rant with a huff, crossing your arms and turning to look at her.

And Natasha is smiling.

“This isn’t funny”

“No, it’s not. You’re just cute even when you’re angry”

“Not the time to joke”

“Who said I’m joking?” she gets in your way when you try to leave the kitchen, thinking she’s being impossible.

“What are you doing?” you say when she leans forward, placing her hands on your arms.

“Just let me show you” she asks, and then you feel her lips on yours, kissing you slowly. Only when you place your hands on her neck, does she pull you by the waist and deepens the kiss.

“Why…”

“I don’t know if you know this, but I’m in love with you” she confesses when you break apart.

“But I’m just av…”

“Don’t say it” she pulls you against her, your noses inches apart. “The world can be a very bad place sometimes. And you have no idea how hard it is to find someone as kind as you”

“It’s nothing”

“It’s everything” she smiles, kissing you again. “Can I make it up to you for missing our date?”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach when she calls it a date. You nod, smiling.

“Same old dinner and movie plan?”

“Sounds perfect to me”

[hedwig221b]

hii ! do you have any recs for hale pack underestimating stiles or like stiles being underestimated generally and then he always proves them wrong? pleasee and thank uuu <3

and anon asked:

hiiiiiiiii, do you have any fic where like the pack or everyone thought stiles is weak and they always underestimated him??? i love badass stiles SO MUCH. thank uuuu!

Let's see how you like this bunch...

I Don't Need Protecting by halcyon1993

After Derek casts him out of the pack, Stiles is left completely alone, the perfect target for the newest enemy looming on the horizon. Now in the clutches of a vicious pack of alphas, tortured, mocked and fed up of being seen as weak, he's determined to prove to everyone who doubted him that you should never underestimate Stiles Stilinski.

They Never Learn by gryvon

Five times Stiles Stilinski was underestimated by someone outside his pack.

Never Underestimate Stiles Stilinski by haletostilinski

Derek is taken and tortured by hunters, who are confident that they have the upper hand. But they haven't met Stiles yet, who will stop at nothing to save Derek.

with bloody feet across the hallowed ground by owlpostagain

There were no last words. No more pleas, no more screaming. Just the sound of Stiles squeezing the trigger, the explosion of a second shot rocketing out of the revolver, and the hunters bursting through the open doorway just in time to see the bullet slam squarely into the center of Derek’s chest.

It seems wasted now by DaaroMoltor

It's been months. Months of lonely days and lonelier nights. And Stiles can't understand what he did wrong.

Wild Card by Onlymystory

Stiles doesn't really care if other people think he can fight. He knows what he can do. And he knows exactly how to save his pack when they're captured by the Alphas.

Can't rely on me by Littleredridinghunter

Set at the end of season 2, Gerard beats Stiles up, but it's a lot worse than anyone knows. The pack let him down, that's not really a surprise lately. When Danny finds Stiles nearly bleeding to death the next day it's the start of a beautiful friendship. Can the pack make amends before it's too late? Will Stiles ever forgive them for not being there for him when he needed them the most?

The Pretty Things (are going to hell) by FaeryQueen07

“You have something of mine,” Stiles says, and he reaches for his hood, pushing it back to reveal the rest of his face. Lips curled up in a smile promising pain and eyes like death, he says, “And now I’m going to take it back.”

The Boy Who Tamed the Sourwolf by AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle

Stiles is used to being second tier in everyone's life. How easily people forget him and move on to bigger and better things. Used to always being in someone's shadow. Leave it to Derek Hale to shatter those expectations.

Red Witch by rootbeer

The red hair of a banshee. The red eyes of an alpha. The red hoodie of a mage. The red of fire burning. Derek Hale has been a prisoner to the hunters since they burned his family alive. But now someone has come to save him: skinny, defenseless Stiles--147 lbs of skin and fragile bones. Turns out, sarcasm isn't his only weapon.

Lone Wolf by Kikileduc

Complete spin off after season 2, but does have season 3 and so on elements. Stiles feels forgotten, he feels left out. So he does something about it, while getting reacquainted with nature he stumbles on to something else. If the pack doesn't need him, if his dad wants him to stay out of it all, well, maybe he just needs a distraction in the form of 3 adorable wolf cubs!

And miles to go before I sleep by Heart_Of_Steel_And_Fandoms

Stiles leaves Beacon Hills at the end of Sophomore year. He's been abandoned by the pack, scarred by the hunters, and carries the equivalent of a volcano of magic inside him. Needless to say, his life sucks. But when Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills, over a year later and with a new persona, he isn't the same powerless human the pack remembers. And when demons threaten Beacon Hills, he proves to everyone that sarcasm isn't his only defence.

Dragon's Breath by trilliath

Between the hunters and the monsters that have interfered with life in Beacon Hills, the pack has had to learn a lot in the last few years, including Stiles teaching himself to practice magic in private. It's not exactly a secret from the pack, but it's not something he's shown much. When it comes time to put his skills to the test, Derek is the only one who finally gets to see Stiles's wild magic put to use saving Erica's life from a new threat in town. The aftermath changes something between them, and those tenuous lines tangling them together may mean the difference between life and death for them both.

Other fic recs: angsty fics | possessive Derek | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles | bad friend Scott | pack mom!Stiles | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | dark sterek | single parent!Stiles | feral Derek | arranged marriage

[that-hazbin]

Your angel AU now has me by the THROAT.

I’m assuming that Alastor goes to Hell basically immediately after Emily tells him that Lucifer Fell and hopes that Lucifer didn’t just forget about him (even if everyone else had).

That reunion will be messy, and I think that in a way Lucifer didn’t forget about Alastor—I am now convinced that the apple on Lucifer’s hat is the one he meant to give Alastor and no one can convince me otherwise—but thoughts of him kind of fell to the wayside as other things took priority. I imagine Lucifer will be a mix of happiness to see Alastor, and horrified guilt because he was left in that garden for 10,000 years alone and it’s his fault. You said this whole idea was based on Spinel, so I’d think Alastor is a mix of terrible sadness and frothing fury, oscillating between the two in turns.

You have set up a situation that will have severe emotional repercussions that are delicious to contemplate; thank you for sharing your ideas and writing with us, and I respectfully request more.

I shortened a lot of this AU because I wanted people to make their own thoughts on it, but I've got a lot of personal thoughts for it that makes it fun. One of them is that in this AU, Alastor doesn't have wings. He was made for Lucifer as basically his doll, and so he wasn't allowed flight. If he needed to go anywhere, he needed Lucifer to fly him around. So leaving Heaven to get to Hell would, in fact, be really difficult. He can't just fly down the way Adam and his exorcists can.

Granted, since Lucifer fell, maybe Alastor thinks "alright I'll do that too" and just bodily throws himself over the edge. That would be a NASTY reunion for Lucifer. Sees some meteor falling from Heaven, flies up to stop it, only to realize "Hey wait is that a person— IS THAT ALASTOR?!"

Meanwhile Emily, who witnessed this poor WINGLESS guy JUMP FOR HELL, is frantically trying to call up Charlie and give her like. A warning. Perhaps an explanation.

Lucifer and Alastor would have the most messed up reunion in this case. Alastor is still operating on the idea that his whole existence is to please Lucifer in some way, specifically to make him happy, to entertain him. In Lucifer's mind, this means that Alastor literally condemned himself to the most painful action in existence because of HIM. He never managed to give Alastor the fruit of knowledge like he planned, and it resulted in this.

Unbeknownst to Lucifer, Alastor isn't completely bereft of free will. Otherwise, he wouldn't be... feeling the emotions that he's feeling. He's hurt, saddened, and filled with so much anger. And Alastor is not going to direct that anger at Lucifer, of course not, it's not his fault that Alastor waited for ten-thousand years for no reason. (Except, it kind of is, but NO IT ISN'T.)

Things will hit a boiling point, though, when Lucifer suggests getting Alastor back into Heaven. Because obviously Alastor doesn't deserve to be in Hell, it sucks here, and Alastor deserves better— except that's not what Alastor hears. What Alastor hears is that despite waiting several millennia for this moment, Lucifer doesn't actually want him around and is planning on getting rid of him. Wiping his hands of him. Why not, right? Every other angel in Heaven has forgotten about his very existence, and here's Lucifer, the one he was made for, trying to do the same!

Alastor would just. Explode. He's confused and so, so furious. What exactly did he do wrong this time? Why isn't his friend happy to see him, why doesn't he want Alastor to stay? Is he seriously going to abandon Alastor AGAIN?! TEN THOUSAND YEARS! He can't do it again, he can't.

It would take a while before Alastor calms down.

[bayoubashsims]

it seems your plantation lot has caused some controversy😵 I know your username has bayou in it but I'm still curious why you made a playable plantation for the game

Background

Hi anon and everyone, I wanted to address some comments regarding my post about creating a plantation in The Sims 2. This construction was based on the Felicity Plantation which was featured in The Skeleton Key, and I posted about this months ago--it's the same building, but in a different hood.

I was cautious about how it would be perceived as I only know two other people who recently made plantation-themed builds: BourgeoisBanana who was criticized for making the one from Django Unchained and there was also luvsimskaos who made historical depictions of a plantation to talk about history and life as enslaved people.

I am also not ignorant of plantations and their history with racism. I am Indonesian and it was only 80 years ago my own country was independent from being colonized by the Dutch and we too had plantations, indentured servitude, and enslaved people (though clearly not in the same extent as the Atlantic Slave Trade). American history is no stranger to us in the third world as everything that is American affects us culturally and politically.

If you see from some of my Indonesian builds, many of them are buildings from the colonial times in Indonesia and it was not to glorify their imperialism over the socioeconomic structures of Indonesia or to romanticize them in any way, but to recognize its part in history as well as the architecture of the structures that remain today. Many of them today are museums and galleries that remind us of what those structures were built on.

My re-creation of a plantation that was historically used to profit off the labor and wellbeing of enslaved people was not to glorify that or to even fantasize slavery to exist within The Sims. My intention was to appreciate American culture and history, specifically on the architectural aspect.

In The Sims

I am well aware that the estate of the real Felicity Plantation still have the residential quarters of the enslaved people, which is why I did not choose to recreate those structures as Sims history, despite its many similarities with American culture and history, does not share that part of history. Nor do I wish to recreate slavery in my game.

I’m a strong proponent of not forgetting histories by whitewashing them and I am mindful that, by choosing to exclude them in my game that the real basis had quarters for enslaved people, that, it would be the best option. Or perhaps, it could be whitewashing it, but the alternative is certainly not ideal. I don’t know, I’m open to how others view and think of it.

There was this Reddit thread that discussed about the word ‘plantation’ and I’ll post some screenshots on what other Simmers have said about it.

Though I know I took the basis of the structure from American history, there are plantations all over the world that did not use slavery or exploitation for them to run (well, capitalism still exists, but that’s another can of worms), and that’s applied here. Though I didn’t elaborate on it, historically, the building that I created does not share the same history. It just happens to be inspired based on the period architecture.

My construction of the building was only to show my appreciation of the architecture, my fascination with American culture and history, and my love for The Sims and horror films like The Skeleton Key. I also recreate many structures from Louisiana, like the shotgun houses and the French Quarter townhouses, all of which are also part of that history.

My neighborhood itself is a re-creation and tribute to the culture of Louisiana and New Orleans and I just wanted to be as accurate as possible. I didn’t set out nor did I intend to ‘fantasize slavery in The Sims.

My Context

The structures of such plantations also mirror many colonial Indonesian houses (which explains my interest), and today we Indonesians appreciate these 'heritage' houses while also being mindful of their histories and how they were built on the sweat and blood of colonized peoples. That is all I thought I was doing and I am coming from that point of perspective.

Many colonized nations of the third world would say the same regarding similar structures in their own countries; appreciate them as works of art and preserve them as a part of history, but no need to romanticize or glorify them as parts of darker aspects of history.

However, I am also aware that plantations are a sensitive issue in the US. I know people who are criticized for having weddings in plantation estates, because though they think they only show appreciation for history by throwing events there, for many other people especially African-Americans (some of whom could be guests or workers at that wedding), that history meant actual horror, on grounds and structure that subjected real people to unimaginable things.

So I understand how some people might feel about such a structure in The Sims, but I don't, to my knowledge, feel that these two things are the same. Willow Creek in TS4 as well as Old Town in TS1 all pay tribute to the rich history of Louisiana in their own ways; how appropriately and accurately they paid that tribute is another matter, but I was just , as a foreigner, playing along with that theme with no ill intent.

Though it is not comparable, Indonesians were subjected to similar horrors and I live in a society where, like Americans, many still remember what the past was like and are still affected by it. However, I thought that by re-creating the building on The Sims 2 merely on the basis of appreciating American architecture and history and a horror movie that I liked, in a game that only I’d play, that I wouldn’t be really doing anything materially harmful.

I’m open to listening and learning more on this issue, especially from Americans (considering how I took a part of American history by creating this), but…I would venture so far as to say not everything has to be from an American-centric view. And I say that, again, while still being mindful of how actual Americans who are affected by this part of history think of a plantation structure being reproduced in a game.

If anybody re-created a colonial Indonesian structure, most Indonesians would appreciate that they paid attention to the architecture and history of such buildings, and I wouldn’t say anything else unless there was explicit glorification or recreation of the more problematic parts of history.

This is my view of the issue. I apologize that I’ve created and shared something that is offensive, it’s the last thing I want to do here (genuinely surprised because I’ve always been kind of laying low and chill on this platform 😅), though I think the criticism is valid and I understand where it’s coming from. I am the last person to have malicious intent and neither am I ignorant of the context--but I could be better informed.

References

Below are my references regarding the portrayal of plantation houses in historic and aesthetic terms as well as the reactions to portayals such as that:

Dahm, K. (2013). " To Preserve, Protect, and Pass On:" Shirley Plantation as a Historic House Museum, 1894–2013.

de la Torre, O. (2022). The well that wept blood: Ghostlore, haunted waterscapes, and the politics of Quilombo blackness in Amazonia (Brazil). The American Historical Review, 127(4), 1635-1658.

Locke, H. J., & Mackay, T. A. (2021). “You Are a True Progressive”: Red Dead Redemption 2 and the Depiction and Reception of Progressive Era Politics. The Journal of the Gilded Age and Progressive Era, 20(1), 174-193.

Phillips, A. (2022). Fixing the Past: Memory Tourism, Multiraciality, and White Innocence in Video Games. ROMchip, 4(1).

Smith, M. P. (2018). " Ridiculous Extremes": Historical Accuracy, Gone With the Wind, and the Role of Beauty in Plantation Tourism. The Southern Quarterly, 55(2), 171-190.

Walcott-Wilson, E. J. (2020). Cultivating Memoryscapes: The Politics of Language at Plantation House Museums in the American South. Handbook of the Changing World Language Map, 901-913.

[kitkatkitzune]

MAKEUP MENACE

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Summary: You need a model to practice your skills, thankfully Elijah is there to help… and distract you.

Warnings: Sex jokes, Flirty!Elijah, Maybe OOC!Elijah?, My minimal makeup knowledge, inconsistencies in the tense it’s written in

Notes: Special thanks to @wholoveseggs for helping me brainstorm ideas for this fic!! I hope I did your suggestions justice!

Happy Valentine’s day everyone!!

Word Count: 1.5k

———————

You groan in frustration and throw your makeup brushes down, dropping your head onto your vanity table.

Elijah, who was sitting on the chair in the corner of your shared room, reading, looks up from his book, “Darling? What’s wrong?” he’s off of the chair and at your side in a matter of seconds.

You pick your head up from the table and look up at your fiancé, “This is just so frustrating! These stupid silicone molds are nothing like real skin!” you scoff, looking back at the table.

Elijah smirks, “So silicone is nothing like the real thing?”

“Yes, Elijah! That’s what I just said!”

“So… the real thing is better?”

“Am I speaking one of the two languages you don’t speak? Yes! I just said that!” you exclaim, looking back up at him.

His grin widens, “Silicone doesn’t compare to—“

“Elijah!” you scoff, slapping his arm as you finally catch on to what he’s doing.

He laughs, “My apologies, dear, I couldn’t help it.”

You scoff, “You’re a dick.”

“Ah, but you like my ‘dick’…” he pauses for a moment, “It’s certainly better than silicone.”

“Elijah,” you groan, dropping your head back onto the table, “you’ve been hanging around Kol too much,” you mumble into your arm.

“Kol?” he questions, “You talk about male genitalia with my little brother? I don’t know how to feel about that…”

You lift your head up a bit to glare at him and he chuckles again, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop. What’s wrong?”

“I’m trying to learn this new technique and practice for my exam but the silicone face pieces are making it so difficult, it just won’t work the right way because it’s not skin!”

“So you need a model?”

You sigh, nodding, “And Rebekah isn’t here for me to practice on! She’s off galavanting around with Marcel, doing God knows what that I don’t want to think about!”

Elijah hums in thought before shrugging, “You could practice on me?”

“Really?” you beam, “You’d let me?”

“As long as you promise not to stab my eye out, I think we’ll be fine.”

You squeal, standing up from your chair, pushing Elijah to sit down and he does, man-spreading. You gather all of your supplies and Elijah watches you intently, happy to see you in your element.

“Okay, let’s get started…” you begin but Elijah raises a finger, making you trail off.

With dramatic flair, he pulls out his handkerchief and tucks it into his shirt as if he was about to eat a messy dinner.

You roll your eyes and he smiles, the corners of his eyes creasing, “What? I love you, truly, but this suit was nine thousand dollars… I don’t want it stained.”

You chuckle and step closer so you’re standing in between his legs, “Are you sure this isn’t going to fracture your masculinity?” you tease.

He laughs, resting his hands on your hips, “Dear, you forget I’m over a thousand years old, this isn’t the first time I’ve worn makeup.”

“I wish there were cameras back then,“ you whine, “I’d have loved to see you all ‘dolled up’,” you quote Elijah, he would always refer to you getting dressed up as getting dolled up.

“Maybe Nik has some old paintings…” you tap your finger to your chin, grinning when he groans and rolls his eyes.

After a bit of teasing, you finally begin your work, trying not to get too distracted by the way Elijah was rubbing up and down your hips. He smiles at you knowingly, making you scowl. Deciding two can play at that game, you straddle his lap, causing his eyes to momentarily widen.

“I hope you don’t sit on all of your clients like this…” he muses.

You giggle, “Only the really pretty ones,” you use the brush you were holding to boop his nose.

He hums, moving his hands to rub up and down your back as you do his eyebrows. When he realizes you’re no longer being affected by his teasing he lowers his hands until they reach the curve of your ass and squeezes.

You immediately halt your movements and lean back, smacking his shoulder, “Behave ,” you hiss.

“I am being a perfect gentleman.”

“More like a perfect menace.”

Finally, you get to the eyes. You dip your eyeshadow brush into the brown, tapping it against the pallet before placing it on Elijah’s eyelid.

“Brown?” he questions.

You hum, “Simple yet elegant, a classic.”

When you finish his eyes you uncap a red lipstick, “And a red lip, classic and bold.”

You finish applying the color to his lips, giggling at the way he had his lips puckered. You shriek when he leans forward, grabbing your face and placing kisses all over just like you do to him, leaving red lip marks behind. He finishes his onslaught of kisses by placing one on your lips.

He pulls back, admiring his work and you narrow your eyes, using your fingers to wipe away the smudged lipstick around his mouth.

After fixing his lipstick, you grab your hand held mirror to show him the final look.

“I look absolutely fabulous, you did fantastic sweetheart.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

You smile, happily, and hop off his lap much to his surprise, “Stay there! I need to get my phone so I can take a picture for my portfolio.”

You’re gone before he can even protest, practically bouncing down the stairs. You see Klaus and Hope on the staircase, you had completely forgotten they had gone out shopping. Little Hope was practically buried in shopping bags.

“Auntie Y/N!! Look at all my stuff!!”

“What on earth happened to your face…?” Klaus trails off, referring to the kiss marks, you ignore him, addressing Hope.

“In a second, honey, I promise!” you pluck a few of the bags out of her arms, revealing her face, “I have to get my phone, I need to get a picture of Elijah!” you continue down the stairs.

“Elijah?” Klaus raises a brow, stopping in his spot on the steps, “Is the noble stag actually smiling for once in his immortal life?”

“No? Yes? Maybe!” you exclaim, “It’s for my portfolio!” you pass Klaus, grabbing a few more bags from Hope and she rushes up the stairs after you.

When she sees Elijah, she bursts into a fit of giggles, “Uncle ‘Lijah! You look pretty!”

Elijah shoots you a look before scooping Hope up in his arms, she pokes his rosy cheeks and laughs again.

“Pretty silly,” Klaus says, leaning on the doorway, making his presence known.

“Niklaus,” Elijah sighs.

“No! Just pretty!” Hope exclaims.

“Y/N,” Klaus pushes off the doorframe to leave the room, “be a doll and send me whatever pictures you take…”

“Yes!” Hope squeals, “And me too! Send them to me!”

“Hope, you don’t have a cellphone,” Elijah deadpans.

“Oh.”

“But we can send them to your mother!” you smirk, trying to suppress a giggle when Elijah glares at you.

Hope giggles and runs out of the room, yelling for her mother to come see ‘pretty Elijah’.

Elijah sighs and you smile, shrugging, “You’re the one who said it’s better to indulge him.”

“I suppose I did say that…”

You take a few photos of him and set your phone down, “Hope’s right, you do look pretty.”

“Well I think you’re prettier.”

He smiles and stands up, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“Ew!” Hope yells from the doorway, causing the two of you to pull apart. She’s standing there, carrying her own makeup box that she had just got during her shopping trip with Klaus.

An idea suddenly pops into your head, making you grin, “Hey Hope, you want to make Elijah pretty?”

Seemingly forgetting about the whole previous interaction, Hope smiles, hopping up and down, “Yes! Can I make you pretty uncle Elijah?”

Elijah widens his eyes at you, as if you had just sent him to the slaughter, “Well, I have all this makeup on already, sweetie.”

“Oh come on, Elijah,” you smirk, “I can easily take that off! Let the girl do your makeup!”

“Please uncle Elijah! I promise I’ll do a good job!”

Between your encouragement and Hope’s adorable little pouty face, Elijah couldn’t say no.

Which is how he ended up with cheap, glitter makeup rubbed all over his eyelids and cheeks with cute little bows in his hair.

“I’m going to be a makeup artist! Just like you, aunt Y/N!” Hope grins at you, unveiling her work.

By some miracle, you manage to contain your laughter even as Elijah narrows his eyes at you.

“You did great, sweetheart! Isn’t that right, Elijah?”

“Yeah,” his voice almost cracks, “I look beautiful.”

Hope grins, running out of the room, shouting for everyone to come see ‘pretty Elijah’ again, making Elijah groan and bury his face in his hands.

You laugh and he looks up at you, “I’m glad you enjoy my suffering.”

“Oh honey,” you smile, placing your hands on his shoulders, “I’m your fiancé, of course I do.”

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hopefully it's not too late to send a request... can I get a blurb with pillowfight with Mikey Berzatto?

Familiar Comfort.

mikey berzatto x reader

warnings - cursing.

valentines masterlist. main masterlist. inbox.

You’re sat solemnly by yourself on the Berzatto family’s couch when something slams into the side of your head.

You whip around, expecting to see your best friend standing there with that smug look on his face. Instead, you’re met with the sight of Michael leaning against the doorframe, watching you carefully.

“The fuck was that for?”

He chuckles, pushing off the wood to come and sit next to you.

“Thought you were frozen. Wanted to check you were still alive.”

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you can’t fight the smile that creeps onto your face.

“What you doin’? Carmy ain’t here, and I thought you two had dates.”

“Mine cancelled, so I helped Carm get ready for his. Picked his outfit for him and everything.”

“He cancelled? Why?”

“Don’t know. Gave me some bullshit excuse, said something about cat sitting for his sister. Think I dodged a bullet.”

“You definitely did,” he confirms, swinging an arm around your shoulders. “Fuck that guy. Doesn’t deserve you.”

You shuffle in closer, resting your head on his broad chest. The two of you have always been familiar, having grown up in close proximity. You sometimes forget just how comforting Mikey can be, so used to his boisterous and unserious personality. He likes to be the joker, the guy that makes everyone laugh - especially if Richie’s around.

“Don’t waste your time on guys like that,” he murmurs, fingertips running across the skin of your arm. “You’re too good for ‘em.”

You pull back to look at him, instantly missing the warmth of his body.

“Thank you,” you whisper sincerely. After a moment, you ask the question on your mind. “No dates for you tonight, Mikey?”

“I’d rather be here with you.”

Your heart constricts at the way he looks so genuine, gentle smile etched across his face.

You move without thinking, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. Just as you’re about to panic about what you’ve done, he pulls you back in, kissing you deeper. One of his hands finds the back of your neck, the other tangling into your hair.

You’re tempted to climb into his lap, wanting desperately to be closer to him. Instead, you pull away for air, resting your forehead against his.

“I want to be good enough for you,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’m not, yet. But I want to be.”

“You are.”

“I’m not. But I will be. Trust me, baby. I will be.”

You kiss him again softly, before wrapping your fingers around the pillow next to him and smacking him in the side with it. He looks shocked for a second before grabbing another in retaliation, hitting you firmly but carefully.

“Oh, you’re in for it,” he chuckles, grabbing you around the middle and throwing you onto the couch before thumping you with a pillow again.

You screech, swinging your cushion wildly in hopes of making contact with him in some way. You’re both laughing so hard your stomachs are hurting, tears running down your faces.

You don’t have another thought about the man that stood you up. He’s not worth thinking about.

Not when you’re laughing until you cry with the guy you’ve had a crush on for years.

[simp-ly-writes]

A Wilting Rose

─────── · ·  For All Time: The Series (pt.3)

─ · · PAIRING: 10th Doctor x F!Time Lord!Reader, 10th Doctor x Rose Tyler

─ · · SUMMARY: The Master's drums are sounding louder than ever, you discover yet another one of your husbands companions, the Doctor questions if he's ready to lose another so soon, and at the end of the day you all realize how everyone suffers the same.

─ · · TAGS: series 2/3 spoilers, female pronouns used, second person perspective, canon divergence!!, soulmate au, emotional angst, depictions of anxiety attacks, the Master deserves his own tag, coarse language, eventual happy ending (but not yet), not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 4,431 | PART ONE | PART TWO | PART FOUR

─ · · A/N: there is a LOT of canon divergence here! I hope you are all all enjoying the series so far (and I'm sorry for all the angst- we're almost there I promise!).

─────── · · 

After touching back down in England the Doctor and Rose made their way back to the girl’s home. When rushing up the stairs and rounding the hall, Rose paused for a moment, her mouth opened with a thought before closing in second thought. 

“S’everything alright?” the Doctor asks, torso leaning forwards, head tilted with a small concerned frown spread across his features. Rose just shrugs, holding herself up higher. “Nothing just…” she looks to your door across from her own, gaze lingering for a moment too long that the Doctor catches it, standing more upright as he nears the frame.

“Noisy neighbours or something?” he looks towards Rose for confirmation, hand rising to knock on your door as Rose takes in a sharp breath before pulling him away and inside her apartment. “No!- I just remembered something suddenly, I think I left my coat in the TARDIS but I’m sure mum has another laying around here. C’mon let's go, I’m sure she misses me at least.” 

“Not me?” the Doctor scoffs while trying to hide a smile. Rose rolls her eyes, giving his shoulder a playful shove before closing the door behind them both once hearing her mothers scream. “YOU’RE BACK!” she suddenly feels arms wrapping around her, rattling her bones with the tightness of her embrace and the shrill of her voice in her ear. 

“I’ve missed you too, mum and look what we’ve brought back for you,” Rose turns stiffly in her embrace while trying to reach inside her pocket. The Doctor leans against a wall in the hall observing the reunion with distant eyes before he stares at his shoes, where did that hole come from? He asks himself, trying not to linger his thoughts on the everlasting chill he feels across his skin before blinking back to full alert as Rose drags him into the kitchen at her mothers call. 

“And I have a surprise for you too, he should be coming any minute now… or right now!- Look Rose, it's your grand-dad! Or well the spirit? Ghost? I don’t quite know but don’t you see him?!” Jackie Tyler exclaimed, eyes bright with a cup of tea in between her hands as she greeted the time travellers at her doorstep. 

“Uh Jackie, that’s not your grandfather I’m afraid,” the Doctor piped up seeing Rose’s hopeful eyes sparking for a moment just before his words stomped them out. He moves to press a hand to her shoulder in a silent apology before deciding not to, fingers curled into a fist down at his side as he steps forwards and scrutinizes the being with a raised chin. “I think we may have to cut this visit short, Rose!” the Doctor calls, forgetting his companion to be standing right beside him. 

“Ah there you are. Ready to go save the world again?” the Time Lord asks, torchwood ought to be a good distraction, he thinks to himself. Rose smiles, eyes crinkled in a tease before tilting her head out towards the door, “I’m ready when you are.” 

─────── · ·  

They were not ready. In fact, nothing could have prepared the Doctor for something like this. Not losing his hand, fighting on the front lines during the Time Wars, not even losing his home planet… losing you… could prepare himself for what he was facing, it was Doomsday, and currently everyone was going to die if something didn’t change fast. 

Torchwood, Cybermen, Daleks, the Void, repeated in his mind like a broken record better left unplayed, if not for these over-ambitious humans, the Doctor paced restlessly in circles murmuring to himself underneath his breath as various guards and lab-coat officials stood off to the side watching the alien. 

“Is he usually like this?” one of the torchwood scientists asked Rose Tyler. She didn’t reply, simply looking at the man with concern that was becoming a staple of her look. “Doctor?” Rose called out softly. He held his hand out in reply, waving her away with a shake of his head. They were running out of time, slowly becoming surrounded, and had already lost some, “there is no time left to think Doctor! We’re just sitting ducks here, what’s it going to be?” Mickey chimes in, looking towards Rose in concern, his hand still hurting from touching the “Time Lord science” the Daleks called it- that caused all this chaos and Earth take-over. 

The Doctor snaps his head up, teeth gritted, eyes filled with unshed tears and yet an unwavering will. “You all need to leave,” he states, hands feeling for his 3D glasses, “yes, you all must go, you’ve all been infected, we all have some radiation in us from travelling between dimensions- besides you Jackie. You all will be attracted into the void.”

“Oh-geez, thanks,” Jackie scoffs, moving towards the furthest wall still trying to catch her breath from all the stairs she climbed earlier while trying to escape from the Cybermen. 

“What do you mean, leave, Doctor?” Rose asks, taking large strides forwards to look at the time traveller properly. He refuses to meet her gaze, simply looking out towards London in a state of disrepair. “You are, with everyone else, through the space-time tear. I’ll be here to shut the gates and-”

“AND WHAT? WHAT ABOUT ME… WHAT ABOUT US AND EVERYTHING WE’VE BEEN THROUGH” Rose screams, gripping the man's pin-stripped jacket tightly before swatting his chest. The Doctor is used to the physical pain by now but with each passing minute he realizes that the emotional pain he feels- has felt up till now, could only grow. Whatever he thought to be the top of the mountain or the depth of the valley was only met with a never-ending ladder that he climbed without knowing any way off of it. The Doctor didn’t know how to feel anything anymore, anything at all as he allowed Rose to push and shove him. 

“You have to go,” he enforces again, looking up towards the ceiling for hope that she would understand- his throat pained by the words as he swallows the lump in his throat of unshed tears knowing that Rose would join you on the list of the people he’s lost. 

“I said I was going to stay with you Doctor, until the end, I made that choice then- it still stands now. Please, please, please,” Rose begs, she feels pathetic, feels the eyes of everyone she’s ever loved looking at her… everyone except her Doctors, she needs his gaze more than anything. More than she needed to sleep, eat, breathe… more than even her will to live. “Please…” she whispers one last time. 

─────── · ·  

It happened all in a blur of screams and tears. Rose held open the gates alongside him with all her might yet it was not enough. In a flash Rose was headed towards hell, towards eternal nothingness in the void if it was not for her other-dimensional father sweeping her away at the last minute. Yet nevertheless, the Doctor understood that her pained stare would be the final memory he would remember of Rose Tyler and that was a hard pill for him to swallow…

The Doctor stared at the white wall. His forehead pressed against the solid, cold, concrete surface. His hand spreads out across the bumpy surface in search of another warm hand only to come back empty. His fingers slowly clench together, forming a fist that slowly falls back down to his side. The Time Lords sighs deeply, his two hearts shattered at the cruel punishment of fate. Was this for them getting back at him for not dying? For seemingly leaving you? For not doing enough no matter how hard he tried? 

Maybe the cybermen were right about something, the Doctor thought to himself while wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve. Proof that emotions destroy you. The Time Lord didn’t want to feel in this moment, really, he never wanted to feel again and yet he was currently sympathizing with his enemy. I really am cursed for all time, aren't I? 

─────── · ·  

The next day the Doctor walked the streets of Earth watching the various mourners appear at Rose’s apartment with various gifts and flowers. Even though she was gone for long periods of time it seemed that no one truly forgot her, that thought warmed the Doctors heart slightly, the beautiful hope of humanity- their belief of some life after and for some part Rose was living in it yet it was a world without him.

In one last effort of desperation or maybe a prolonged broken heart. The Doctor sped  the TARDIS towards a centre with enough energy to communicate with his late companion of his world one last time. But how could a few minutes make up for the years they spent together ended in seconds by evil? Why do I continue to walk through the ashes and not join them? The Doctor did not know answers to his internal questions, anytime he looked to reason with them he would only be found with more questions… more regrets. 

In the years of silence that passed the Doctor by, he questioned if humanity was worth finding in others, if he was great enough to determine that for others… but the opinions that no longer mattered to him since he was alone anyways, forever and always. 

─────── · ·  

With a bowl of metaphorical popcorn in hand, The Master smirked from his TARDIS circling just outside of reach of both your’s and the Doctors TARDIS’s as you both orbited the same supernova without even an inkling of the other being there. Fate, always the cruel companion to life, he chuckled to himself before looking down at his hands remembering your brief touch, the feel of your chin in between his fingers. 

You looked so good looking up at me. The Master knew that if he just waited a bit longer that you would come to your senses, come to him… his smirk turned into a full blown grin, hands resting behind his back as he stood up straighter while catching his reflection in the window pane. I just have to be patient and then we will reinvent the Time Lords, together as one. 

─────── · ·  

By the time you had recollected yourself and made sure you didn’t look too much like a walking corpse, you setted course back to your apartment and by your TARDIS’s calculations, you had missed approximately two and a half years on Earth. Hesitantly popping your head out of your time-travelling luggage you peered left then right before finding the coast clear. Emitting a sigh of relief, you fully climbed out from your TARDIS and placed your hands on your hips, observing your apartment just how you left it albeit with a fresh layer of dust covering everything. 

Holding back a sneeze you tripped over a missing heel you looked everywhere on your ship for before cranking open the window in the spare bedroom and making your way out towards the hall. Glass rested upon the floor as memories of Rose Tyler chasing you through your own home came to the forefront of your mind. Wonder how they’re doing…. You think to yourself absent-mindedly while picking up the stack of letters on the floor with a sigh, taxes, bills, more bills, note from Jackie, another note from Jackie, taxes again… and a voting ballot? Was it election time already? Huh…

You make your way into the kitchen whilst ripping open the remainder of your mail, cursing out gently when you slit your finger open, a drop of blood bleeding onto the white papers in your hand. “Paper cuts really are the worst,” a feminine voice comments. 

“They really do… I’ve been shot, stabbed, punctured, the whole lot and yet nothing compares,” you respond without stopping nor lifting up your head till you reach the sink, pausing with one hand on the tap. Wait… you hastily turn around while whipping out your sonic screwdriver and shove it into the woman's face who currently sits at your breakfast table in all black military wear with boots to match.  

“So the reports weren’t just a hoax, huh…” she mumbles to herself whilst eying you from head to toe. 

“Reports?” you question. Seeing as she holds no weapons nor can you hear anyone else moving nearby you move to put the kettle on whilst sorting through the pantry in search of something within expiry. 

The woman stares at you with questioning eyes, “so you’re not going to ask what I’m doing here in your apartment or how I got in?” she asks, disbelief evident in her tone as you pull up the bin and start sorting through your cabinets with a shrug. 

“Well you’re obviously here for me since the last two people to live in this apartment have died and it's been long enough since the Tylers disappeared and… I’m out of tea,” you pout, clicking off the kettle with a sigh of disappointment before taking a seat across from her. “And to answer your second question, I know those silly little keys and locks you humans have do nothing to actually stop someone. So back to my question now, what. Reports?” 

Your tone lacks the warmness you started with, eyes pointed and smile too tight that has the girl in front of you sitting up that much straighter, “I had intel that there’s been sightings of another ‘time-travelling, screaming-box, alien,’ with your appearance.” 

“And who is this trustworthy source?” you press forwards, leaning across the table and catching the glint of an engagement ring with intrigue. 

“Your neighbours, miss…?” Her words linger wishing you to fill in the space between them. 

“It’s Lady or (name) (last/name), I’m surprised that was not included in whatever little notes you have, miss…?” you extend your hand expectantly with a small tilt to your head. 

“Doctor Jones, Dr. Martha Jones, and Miss Lady, you are to be taken to the closest UNIT headquarters for questioning. You are not allowed a lawyer nor shall you make any public disturbance. Any hesitation will only amount in more difficulty to both of our sides so I kindly ask you to come peacefully and without any hesitation to my demands,” Martha recits. 

You blink at her, “Technically I am a Doctor as well having studied at twenty-nine different universities across the galaxy and two here on earth… So am I being placed under arrest or ‘officially’ kidnapped?” you ask whilst standing and presenting your wrists, wincing at the cool metal that locks around your wrists. 

“Well, Dr. Lady,” Martha chuckles, “It’s neither, you’re simply being escorted to talk.” Martha gives you a tug to walk just ahead of her, two more men stand either side of your front door that lead you towards a black jeep with tinted windows. 

“That sounds more like an arrest, are you sure this is legal?” you query, dipping your head into the vehicle and taking your seat against the cold torn leather. 

“I assure you, this all is entirely legal.” and yet I still doubt that… you think to yourself, choosing to remain silent as you watch the London streets pass you by from outside your window before being led into an underground parking lot and the next thing you know… the room turns black and you feel yourself being dragged into an unknown cold place. 

─────── · ·  

When you reawaken, you rub your sore wrists as you find yourself in a rather nice hotel room resting upon silky white covers and thankfully in the same clothes you remember dressing yourself in. 

“Ah, you’re finally awake,” a male voice comments, sitting up and into the light from a dark corner within the room. Blinking your eyes to adjust to the light, you squint to see a familiar black suit, blonde hair, and signature smirk yet before you can open your mouth to question the Master, a knock sounds from the door that has you both standing to attention. 

Martha Jones walks through, saluting to the Master as you quickly look between the two, confusion evident across your features. “What did you get yourself into this time, Master?” you tease, sitting back down on the covers as the fellow Time Lords makes his way over to you both, signalling for Martha to close the door. 

“I think you mean Minister, dear, and potentially Prime Minister. Your head must be all sorts of jumbled but we couldn’t risk you knowing anymore information,” the Master explains, smile tense and wide, left eye twitching in a silent demand for you to follow along. Nodding your head slowly once, you apologize, “yes, my apologies, Minister?”

“Saxon of Defence, Dr. Lady,” you can hear the tease lingering in his tone and watch as Martha quirks a brow at the friendly banter. “Sir?” she questions, taking a half step forwards. Minister Saxon, raises his palm, halting any further actions as Martha nods, taking a step back and standing near the door once more. 

“So, which one of you is going to explain why I’m needed here, today, on Earth, in the Solar System, at this hour?” you demand whilst flattening out your skirt and crossing your ankles on the bed. 

“You are a Time Lord, correct?” the Master smirks. “Correct…” you answer, eyes squirting in a silent ask, what are you planning ‘minister’? You watch as he presses a finger to his lips as to say, all in due time. You roll your eyes in response, I thought you paused-, “temporarily,” the Master speaks aloud, cutting you off as Martha clears her throat, definitely weirded out by you both now. 

“We are looking to understand more about your time and more about… the Doctor. We believe he- your kind,” Martha clarifies, “Will be an asset to Earth's defence-”

“So to make a good impression and to gain my favour into helping you, you kidnap me?” you deadpan before laughing loudly at the absurdity of it all, “and you… Dr. Martha Jones,” you stare at the woman ahead of you, watching as her head rises to meet your stare. “You seem to know a lot about the Doctor by the tone you speak about him in, anything you wish to share?” 

The Master wiggles his shoulders, becoming giddy in knowing what would happen next watching as Martha hesitates and you strike. “Hesitation is a silent answer and by the way your eyes keep darting towards the sky allows me to infer your answer, Dr. Jones.” 

You sigh, falling back onto the covers and tilting your head towards the Master, “the Doctor really is someone, huh? Whisking random women off the streets of London with him.” The Master merely shrugs, adjusting his cuff-links, “that's why we need you, Lady, we need to know more about the Doctor, more about your kind and what to expect of greater space,” he explains. 

“And if I refuse?” the Master clicks his tongue against the top of his mouth, “I wouldn’t do that, dear. Why make extra work for yourself when you can just lay there, looking pretty and answer a few questions for the humans-” the Master coughs, “us humans,” he corrects himself. 

You narrow your eyes once more, not liking the sound of his words, not liking that you did not know his ulterior motives. “Can I at least get a cup of tea before we start?” you ask the ceiling, starting to count every imperfection you see in the plaster. 

“Order a tray for us and then leave us please, Dr. Jones, I think I can take the interview from here-” the Master begins to speak before getting cut off by Martha. “But sir I-”

“That's an order, Jones,” the Master tone leaves no room for argument as Martha Jones glares at you both before saluting Saxon and exiting the room with one last lingering look on you. 

Just before the door closes you see her reaching into her pocket and pulling out a silver cellphone, and who might you be calling? Yet before you can jump off the bed and follow your curiosity, you feel the Master’s hand encase your shoulder, pulling you back gently and leading you towards a pair of seats he originally sat in. 

“Anything you want to tell me now, Master? I thought we had a good talk on my TARDIS earlier?” you lean back in the plush chair as the Master leans forwards, reaching in between your chairs and grabbing a sweet from the bowl, popping it into his mouth with a wink.

Your nose scrunches up in disgust as he talks whilst chewing yet makes no apologies for his lackluster manners. “Do you hear drumming or is that just me?”

“Drumming?” you shake your head, “What has gotten into you, Master? You go from comforting me to kidnapping me in barely 24 time-travelling hours and have an army question me about my husband? Where has this all come from?” 

“Ex-husband,” the Master corrects with a glare that sends a shiver down your spine, it had been so long since you had been on the receiving end of one of them. 

“You know how you were not originally made to be a front-line warrior or fight in the war?” the Master begins with, looking at you expectantly as you nod. “I was deemed the same… our people tried to destroy me and so, just after your wedding, I ran and didn’t stop until my own legs and hearts failed me. But the best part of it all? The Time Lords dug up my corpse and resurrected me to fight on the frontlines… using my own ‘insanity’ they called it to produce the ‘perfect warrior.’”

“You died, have… died,” you whisper, reaching out to hold the man's head, eyes welling with tears, “oh Master, I’m so sorry you had to go through all that. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Before… before… I could have helped you?” 

The Master shakes his head, giving your hand a squeeze, “they wouldn’t have allowed you to, (name),” he whispers your name as if apologizing to you as well. You blink twice, not understanding as he stares deeply into your eyes with a mixture of bitterness and grief. 

The Master’s chuckle is humourless, “a Time Lord raised in a High House like yourself was never meant to interact with someone like me. Could you imagine it? You, a senator-in-training and little old me always sneaking around in the comforts of the dark for even a sliver of your attention forever? It would have never lasted… you and him were always meant for one another.” 

You open and close your mouth, unsure of how to respond yet the Master speaks for you, dropping your hand to ensure you hear his next words clearly, “But that does not have to be the case any longer. They’re all dead, the Doctor is busy snogging another and you, our beautiful little lady never deserved to be alone… you no longer have to be, my dear. We could be something great, just imagine it, you, me, and the galaxy beneath our feet.” 

Your hearts are racing, palms sweating as the room starts to spin, Death, Fate, Master, Doctor… No!- Master… Wants… Me? You shake your head, gripping your hair and gritting your teeth. No, no, can’t forget, don’t forget me, please, a distant part calls to you from within, no, no, no! You gasp for air, beginning to fan yourself profusely. 

“Is this good shock, or bad shock, dear?” The Master grumbles beneath his breath, moving to kneel by your side and taking one of your hands into his own. 

“I… I…” you try to begin your sentence, refusing to look into his eyes, “...I can’t,” you whisper, sealing your eyes shut tightly. You wince, feeling how tightly he grips your hand now, can feel his hot-iron stare at the tears that fall across your cheeks. 

“And here I thought you were wiser, greater, better,” he spits out, ripping his hand away suddenly as if it burned him, “you’re just as worse as everyone else, worse as the other Time Lords, worse as the humans, even worse than the Daleks. Do you know how many species our kind has killed? Do you remember the names of everyone you’ve killed?- I know you don’t, I don’t remember, the Doctor doesn't either, the list of blood is just too long!” The Master appears to rant on a tangent of pure rage before curling over in maniacal laughter. 

You flinch as the voice becomes increasingly louder, the core memory of a million Daleks screaming comes after you. You remember staring into the blackhole, ensuring every. Single. One. died that day, you can almost feel the blood dripping from your ears again that has you shaking your head- trying to rid yourself of yet another thought, “please, Master,” the rest of your pleads dying on your tongue, I just tried to do what I thought was right! You press your fingernails into your palms, forming crescent shaped marks against your skin. 

“Please, Master~,” the Master mocks your whiny tone before gagging. “Gods you sound pathetic, and here I thought you could become something great… I won’t make the same mistake again.” A grand silence faces the room as you stand slowly, hesitantly walking up to the Master before pausing just a meter away from the man. 

“Master?” you swallow deeply, turning your head to try and catch his face yet his back is turned to you, shoulder’s rising and falling in deep breaths. You watch as he taps his fingers repeatedly against his leg. 

“Are you scared of me?” the Master asks, peering over his shoulder, his eyes appear dark and cast over, the silver of a dirty smirk forming across his lips. 

“Should I be?” you take a half-step forwards, hand beginning to reach out, “do you want me afraid of you, old friend?” Another silence greets you, longer this time. 

“Run.” Your hand drops. “What?” 

“Run away from us,” the Master clarifies. 

“But we’re the last three! We’re-” you speak a mile a minute, trying to pick up words as you speak them. 

“I’m giving you a head start, dear. Fate will decide which one of us will get their hands on you in the darkness, so run my Lady, run until your hearts and legs give out.” 

And so you ran. 

─────── · ·  

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART FOUR

─ · · A/N: thank you for sticking it out till the end of this part! Isn't the Master a little manipulative piece of... yeah... lol

─ · · FOR ALL TIME TAGLIST: @posionapple24 @azriel64290 @smallerontheoutside @soniiyi @spirit-of-the-hollow @f0x33 @blackoutdays13 @dlljdhsh

[strawbearry-writes]

"Missed your muffins,"

a story about amy owning a cute bakery, and sonic coming to visit her often!

tags- fluff! sfw f/m

~~~

Whoosh!

A blue hedgehog was running around town to practice the next time he needed to beat his enemy. Well, that was until he caught a familiar sight through time.

Skkrt!

He stopped at a building with a wooden sign above the doors, saying “The Rose Cafe.” A pretty little bakery with roses painted on the outer walls, which were painted in different shades of red and pink. It was small but people would come often, mostly for the homemade rose matcha latte. One of them, being the blue blur himself. Whenever he’s not busy or bored he goes to the cafe, but he doesn’t usually go just for the homemade goods.

As he opened the door, a little jingle of the bell was heard. It alerted a pink hedgehog with a bob and red headband, behind a counter, who was cleaning it.

“Sonic!”

Amy Rose was the one who opened this store, whenever she wasn’t too busy helping Sonic and the crew, she opened her cafe, and baked delicious pastries. They were family recipes that she wanted to share with everyone. As you would assume the bakery would open on an irregular schedule, but it was usually everyday from 10am-4:00pm. It was currently 3:15 p.m, which isn’t her busiest time, so there were only around 2-3 people here.

She would usually have people help but it seemed that she was alone, or maybe they were baking.

“Hey Ames! How are ya?” Sonic asked as he made his way to the counter. “Hope I’m not distracting you from anything important?”

“Oh, not really. We’re not really busy here anyway.” Amy responded casually while her gaze on the counter she’s cleaning. “I’m just taking a break, meanwhile knuckles and silver are helping me with baking.”

She looked at Sonic slyly, while saying, “Are you actually gonna buy anything this time?” Sonic felt warmth coming to his cheeks, but he still tried to play it cool as he hoped that Amy didn’t notice. “W-well, I, uh-,”

“What would you like to order, Sonic?” Amy said as she looked at the screen of her cash register, interrupting the stuttering hedgehog.

“Well, are you on the menu?”  Sonic thought, but all that came out of his mouth was, “You don’t happen to have those lemon-blueberry muffins do you?” 

Amy’s head shot up. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, “You remember the muffins that I used to give you?”

“Of course! They were like the best things I’ve ever tasted,” Sonic smiled, his eyes slightly squinting closed, his hand scratching the back of his head. “How could I forget?”

Amy looked at the hedgehog as he smiled. His blue quills, shining with the sun’s reflection, his cocky smile turning into a genuine grin. After all they’ve been through, he still remembers, the times where she would walk up to him, basket in hand, smile on her face, saying some type of compliment, which was received with a smile and a “Thanks, Ames” as he sped off to who knows where, doing who knows what. She always thought that he would just forget about them, since at that time he seemed to be busy, she had stopped giving him pastries as often. And with Eggman’s continuous schemes, even less. But that fact that he just remembered…

“Um, Ames?” Amy blinked. She had zoned out. 

“Huh?”

“Um, the muffins?” Sonic asked.

Amy gave a small smile, and said, “Yes, we do have some.”

“Great! Could I get two please?”

“Yup!,” She went under the counter to grab 2 lemon-blueberry muffins, she then put them in a brown paper bag. “5.69, please,”

Sonic paid her before saying, “See you later, Ames!” Then running off to once again who knows where.

…

It was now 4:25 pm, and Ames had closed up shop and was walking home, though there weren't many people at the Cafe today, the visit from Sonic made her ecstatic, though it didn’t seem like it when she was with him. She had learned to control the emotions she showed. However, it doesn’t seem like he knows how to.

As she walked towards her house, she saw a brown bag on her doorstep, the same type as the ones from her store. She picked up the bag, and opened it.

There were jasmine flowers, a pink rose, some strawberries, and a lemon-blueberry muffin. There was also a note, saying,

“Was strolling around the place.

Got some stuff that reminded me of you, thought you’d like it.

I’m free tomorrow and if Eggman doesn’t cause any chaos, 

I was wondering if you wanted to hang out. Let me know if you 

want to. Missed your muffins, they were great as always.”

Catch ya later,

      Sonic 

Amy chuckled as she finished reading the note, red on her cheeks. She then put the note back it the bag, knowing that as soon she got inside, she would leave once more to leave him a note that said,

“Of course!”

-----------------------------------🩷💙------------------------------------

author's note- this is my first ever fanfic that I have written so apologies if kinda cringe, i'll take any tips, but overall i'm pretty happy with the results! also let me know if I made any mistakes, thanks for reading! <3

[ilikekidsshows]

Why do people use the “Marinette must make a mistake in every episode” thing from the show bible as a way to say that the show treats her badly? They use it to justify her decisions and act like it’s the show’s writing working against her and making her out to do bad things. Really, it’s the show’s coddling of her that’s the problem, and the mistakes she makes are quite consistent with her character.

The show bible also says that Marinette must be sympathized with in every episode or something to that effect. But they never talk about that. And when did we forget that “protagonist makes a mistake and learns a lesson” is the standard format for almost every episodic show? They’re making it out to be like this sinister conspiracy against Marinette by the writers, it’s fascinating.

---

There's a reason I made an entire ask game out of the kind of backwards defenses some of the more desperate Marinette stans come up with. They’ve seen selling themselves and each other on this conspiracy narrative where the main lead in a kid superhero cartoon teaching kids moral lessons by learning them herself is actually that main lead being punished by the writers “for things that aren't her fault”. Like, I’ve seen that phrase basically word for word so many times that I have no doubt that it's something some slightly more popular blog said once and the Marinette stans never stopped running with it.

Like, I can even understand the “Marinette must always be sympathized with” caveat, because, for all I do consider it better than Miraculous as a whole, one of Danny Phantom’s issues to me, as a moral lesson show, is how mean-spirited it often is. Yes, it's self-aware about it, but Danny often gets such a short end of the stick even when he does everything right with the show expecting you to laugh and find it funny, so you kind of want him to get away with something for once. It goes a long way selling the loser protagonist character archetype Danny is but, yeah, I kinda see why Astruc would want to avoid Marinette getting that treatment even if she wasn't his pretend daughter.

The problem is, of course, that every single time Marinette is expected to get the lion’s share of the sympathy. She's top priority. That's why the show focuses on her perspective over everyone else’s. When we only see her chaotic feelings and her guilt over her missteps, while her victims give us silence or an “I’m okay!” it does make it feel like she's the one who was hurt by her mistake most of all. It's incredibly unhelpful as a moral lesson because it doesn't teach you to take others’ feelings into account. How could it when they're never shown or named? It only teaches you to look at the projection target’s emotions, your emotions.

‘Gamer’ is actually such a good example of how Miraculous’ writing approach injures the storytelling and muddies the messaging. “Don't publically upstage your friend and classmate in the hobby he’s passionate about, not because it's important to him and, as his friend, you should be supportive, but because, if you do, you might feel bad.” No wonder big parts of the fandom still think Max did something wrong in the episode, even though it was actually very mature of him to get away from Marinette, a friend who hurt him, so that he wouldn't lash out and say things he didn't mean before he calmed down because he has a right to be upset when someone he considers a friend does that to him. Max was far more mature in that episode than our main lead, who got rewarded for doing the bare minimum to make up for her thoughtless action at the last possible moment. Instead her stans have been using this episode as an example of “Marinette being punished for Max being a poor loser” for nearly a decade.

[foodiegoogie]

𝐎𝟏: 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐧 | 𝟏.𝟖𝐤

in which james is a menace about borrowing your mini fan but you let him anyway

note: hii so this turned out to be longer than intended,, but ive been thinking abt doing a james potter x reader blurb series set in high school for sooo many months now ! hopefully this will be the first of many :3 enjoy <33

series masterlist | main masterlist

There's been a festive buzz surrounding the entire campus and student body since you arrived this morning. As soon as you’d stepped inside your classroom, your classmates ran amok, fussing over different things all at once. Typical sportsfest fever, you thought as you put your bag down in your chair. In one corner, a couple girls in your class were putting face paint on themselves for the parade around school. In another corner, the artsy clique made a few more touches on the banners they started making just two days ago. It was chaos at its finest, but it was energetic, and so happy. How could you ever complain about being surrounded by it?

As you went on to put your makeshift headband on, a strip of pink ribbon (pink, because that was the color assigned to the senior batch. Ironic how the oldest of the students will be donning such a… vibrant color during a competitive time), a pair of hands suddenly grab your shoulders, giving you a little shake, and a fright.

“Ah—!”

You turn your head in time just to see Lily Evans doubling over in laughter at your reaction, fiery red hair pulled up into a high ponytail with thin strips of pink ribbon. On her face sits a sign that she’s gone to the girls who were doing face paint—two hollow hearts drawn on her cheeks. 

“Sorry,” She says, but the way she’s still chuckling makes you think otherwise. “but the opportunity was there!” 

“A ‘good morning’ would’ve been just fine,” You grumble under your breath, securing your headband by tying it beneath your hair.

But then Lily slaps your hands away and tuts, “Here, let me,” just like how a fussing mother would do, and a scoff escapes your lips. You raise your hands up in surrender and let her do the honor.

You take a look around the classroom, and realize that there are fewer people inside than when you just came, “Where’s the rest of us at?”

“Probably down at the quad or with the other classes,” Lily answers, pushing your hair aside to work on tying the ribbon. “Even though we’re technically supposed to stick with each other. But you know, rules are overrated, I guess.” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, though she can’t see your face. “Aren’t you supposed to round them up since you’re vice president and all?”

“No, I think you’re forgetting that I’m assistant president, as per President Potter.” She remarks, her tone heavy with sarcasm.

Ah, yes. Of course. President Potter, how could I forget?

Now that you think about it, you hadn’t seen him in the classroom when you came in. That must explain why the chaos didn’t seem too chaotic. The primary instigator of it all was absent. 

“Speaking of which, where is the tosser?” You ask.

“Also probably at the quad, hyping up our class and being the loudest of the bunch.” 

You chuckle, already forming an image in your mind of James Potter, probably standing on top of something so that everyone could literally look up at him, spewing words of encouragement as if he were a general leading an army to war, or Gru when he told the Minions that they were going to steal the moon. 

“Probably,” You agree, turning around to face Lily once she put your hair back in place and combed it slightly with her fingers. “I wouldn’t put it past him if he did a battle cry right now.”

As if on cue, you heard a resounding cheer coming from outside. It seems like the parade was about to start, and the students were all revved up and ready to go.

“Well, that’s our cue,” Lily beams at you, moving to stand beside you and link your arms together. “You ready to go?”

“One sec…” You rummage around your bag with your free hand, spotting your phone and tucking it inside your pocket. Finally, you grabbed your mini fan from the side pocket and turned to Lily with a smile.

“Ready.” 

( ♡ )

“GO! GO, GRYFFINDOR! GO! GO, GRYFFINDOR!”

You tried to keep up with the cheering, but two minutes in or so of initially running, and then walking out onto the streets around your school, surrounded by your fellow sweaty students with the heat of the morning sun shining down on you—well, it was a lot harder to do it now, to say the least.

Lily had long since removed her arm from how it was linked with yours a while ago, now trudging along beside you with the crowd, fanning herself with a banner she folded up. 

“I forgot how dreadful this is,” She heaved, tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear. Miraculously, despite the layer of sweat on her face, the painted hearts stayed intact. But they did nothing to hide her exhaustion. “Why do we even need to do this? Can’t the athletes do this alone?” 

“Well, God knows they’d be better at it,” You panted, bringing your mini fan closer to your face. “They’ve probably got the legs for it.”

Lily huffs a breathless chuckle at that. “Yeah, no kidding—“ 

“Coming through!” 

You hear the voice sound from a megaphone, wincing at the high-pitched feedback that came after, and then the string of apologies that were uttered as whoever it was that spoke weaved their way through the crowd.

From beside you, Lily visibly deflates like a popped balloon, rolling her eyes as she leaned in closer to you. “Uh oh, here he comes.” 

The he in question came in the form of James Potter, wearing a bright pink shirt that said ‘ALPHA MALE’ in big bold letters outlined in blue, surrounded by rainbow sparkles with a unicorn above it, which posed in front of an actual rainbow. He had two streaks of pink paint drawn across both of his cheeks, and wore a pink bandana which held his hair back from his forehead. 

It truly was a ridiculous sight to see your big, burly classmate all dressed up in pastel pink colors. But the horror truly began when he spotted both you and Lily.

“My officers!” He cried out, pushing through the crowd to get to where you were. If anything, it was too late to avoid him, and it didn’t seem like you had anywhere else to go. Even if you did, you doubt that you’d get there in time with how your legs feel like jelly right now.

You and Lily chorus with a disgruntled groan of protest as James finally catches up to the both of you, slinging his arms across your shoulders. 

“Oh, how lovely it is to see you guys,” He sighed deeply in exaggerated relief. It certainly didn’t help that he was also sweating buckets of water, but you couldn’t do much against it with his tight grip on you both.

James turned to Lily with a lopsided grin, “Assistant president,” he greeted her.

She responded with a grunt, wriggling out of his grip and successfully escaping his company. Not without an apologetic glance sent your way, Lily went deeper into the crowd to find her other friends.

James scoffed, clearly affronted. “Rude.” 

Then, he turned to you, smirking as his eyes looked you up and down. You did not feel your prettiest at the moment, but honestly, you couldn’t care less about your appearance right now, given the circumstances.

“Secretary,” He finally greeted you, his voice taking on a lower octave.

You didn’t like how your heart thumped a little louder in your chest by it.

“Yeah, that’s me. Now, do you mind?” You gestured to his arms around your shoulders, still tight and terribly warm. Under different circumstances, maybe you wouldn’t complain. But you’re already taking on your own sweat on your body, and having more of it was simply unacceptable.

But James, of course, ignored your question and gestured to your mini fan. “Can I borrow that for a bit? It’s so hot out here.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, taken aback by his audacity—

“No. Go borrow someone else’s.” 

You received a groan from James, throwing his head back and giving you a brief glance of his neck, glistening with bullets of sweat. You turned away before you looked for longer than necessary.

“But no one else is as nice as you!” He reasoned, tilting his head to the side to meet your eyes. “Please let me borrow?” 

You sighed, and James victoriously beams at you because he knows you’ve given in now. “Fine, fine. Here.”

He stares down at the fan in your hand, stretched out in front of him. You’re waiting for him to take it from you, he realizes.

“Well?” You bring it up closer to him. “Aren’t you gonna take it?”

“Um…” James purses his lips, looking sheepish, or at least seemed like he did. ‘Sheepish’ and ’James’ hardly ever belonged in the same sentence.

“Could you hold it for me? I’ve been holding the banner all morning, and my hand’s all sore and splintered.”

His hand looks fine where he held it up to your face to show you.

But, as much as James was starting to get on your nerves, you’d rather save the breath to complain and instead, complied and held the fan up to his face, effectively (and begrudgingly) cooling him down.

James lets out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes as the air blows against his face. “That’s the stuff. Thanks, Y/N.” 

You shake your head, sighing at your unfortunate fate as James Potter’s personal mini fan holder for the time being. 

Honestly speaking, you were sort of glad that Lily wasn’t around to witness such a spectacle. Knowing her, she’d tease the hell out of you and then James would probably play along, and milk in the attention. 

Another reason, however, was that you wouldn’t be able to deny that she was right. 

Outwardly, you may be indifferent and irritated by James’ utterly bizarre behavior. But internally? Well, you were afraid to admit that you found him endearing at times, and charming. So charming. It also didn’t help that he had a nice face to look at, and a body built like a god, shaped from years of sports and the occasional trip to the gym. 

But you’d rather die than admit all that aloud. 

“You know, you should really get one of your own since you need it so badly.” You suggest, gesturing to the fan in your hand.

“Ah, but if I did have my own fan, I wouldn’t be around to borrow yours. Then you’ll miss me.” James pouts, bottom lip jutting out to make himself look pitiful.

Well, let’s just say that he wasn’t totally wrong about that. So, you said nothing and rolled your eyes, while James just chuckled and finally, finally took the mini fan from your hand, and made it face you instead. 

thanks for reading! \(￣︶￣*\)) likes, replies, and reblogs are very much appreciated ~

[applecidershauna]

Inaccuracy in Yellowjackets – Lazy Writing or Intentional?

Lately, I’ve seen so many posts complaining about inaccuracies in Yellowjackets—more than ever. Why do they keep adding characters? How did they build their little village after losing everything in the cabin fire? What were the lanterns even made of?

Personally, I can live with minor mistakes or unexplained things if they move the plot forward or add something cool, but I’ve seen people justify them with another theory: that the teen timeline is unreliable because the characters have repressed or forgotten details about their time in the wilderness. This usually comes up when people talk about background girls suddenly appearing or getting bigger roles.

And while I get why that’s an interesting theory… I don’t buy it. Let’s talk!

Season 3: The Village and the Outfits

One big issue people seem to have this season is the matching outfits and hoods the girls are wearing. But honestly? I don’t think that’s unrealistic at all. You’re telling me none of them knew how to sew? Please. We already know they have assigned roles—some cook, some hunt, so why wouldn’t someone be in charge of making clothes? They clearly share skills and teach each other, too.

As for the materials, I’ve seen theories that the hoods are made from plane seats, and yeah, I totally see it! Super smart catch. Also, people forget how much time these girls have. Like, they are out there bored. Making clothes is probably something they enjoy or at least a way to stay busy.

The village itself? Honestly looks pretty realistic to me. Those stick-and-grass shelters make sense, and building shelter is literally a basic human survival instinct. Considering Tai was mentioned as being involved, it makes even more sense.

The lanterns from the solstice scene? If you look closely, you can see writing on them. So they could be made from schoolbooks, but I think they were probably from plane manuals or something like that. Oh, and the ducks and rabbits? Adorable. Completely believable. Moving on.

The “Suddenly Appearing” Background Girls

I’m not getting into recasting—that’s not intentional, that’s just what happens when actors have scheduling conflicts. But let’s be real: no one is actually appearing out of nowhere. People have already pointed out that during the funeral scene in the pilot, there were way more survivors than the ones we focused on. That’s just how background characters work. If they’re not important yet or don’t have lines, they won’t always be shown. Simple as that.

Some girls just weren’t as central at first and became more important over time—like Melissa, for example. Shauna even says in S3E2 that she didn’t realize Melissa had a personality, which basically confirms that she (and probably the other core girls) weren’t paying attention to everyone equally. They weren’t all besties from day one.

And let’s not forget: Yellowjackets, like every other show, has main characters—Natalie, Shauna, Lottie, Misty, Tai, and Van. The story is built around them. That’s just how TV works.

The “Unreliable Memory” Theory

The biggest reason I don’t buy the “trauma repressed memory” theory? I have zero reason to believe that what I’m seeing on screen isn’t the truth.

Yes, the teen timeline is often tied to the adult timeline, but the adults aren’t narrating it. Not all the time, at least. Sure, I believe they’ve repressed things or forgotten details, but this is still a TV show. If something happened, we see it. If the show wanted us to question the reality of what went down, they wouldn’t have shown things like Doomcoming, eating Jackie, or Javi’s death so directly.

And don’t even get me started on the “supernatural” events—the bear, Laura Lee’s plane crash, all of it. If anyone wants to talk about that, I will go off, but for now, I fully believe it’s all real.

[ivoyzzz]

𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒

Chapter 2

synopsis: two girls the same age meet on a train and both have the same destination. while the obvious similarities, the two of you are polar opposites. you, the lively, outgoing, pink-loving girl. saebyeok, the stoic, layed-back, and serene girl. does it turn into friends, best friends, or something else?

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

warnings: none !

a/n: rewatching squid game, and why would they kill fine shyt wtf </3 anyways lmk any ideas bc im not too sure how i want this to end xoxo ivy

When Saebyeok stepped out of the train station, she felt the crisp against her skin. She was happy to be off that stuffy train and away from the overly-hyper girl sitting next to her. Saebyeok didn’t want to tell you, but she was also headed to Seoul for college, she was a music major.

Saebyeok shoved her things in and then hopped in a cab. She was headed to her dorm for the first time. She hoped her roommate wouldn’t be loud, annoying, or nosy. Someone more like herself. Someone who would just let her be.

When she stepped on the college campus, she felt an odd sense of something she couldn’t identify. Nerves? Excitement? Maybe both? Either way, it was real and it was happening.

Saebyeok unlocked the door, opening it up to see two empty beds and a bare room. Maybe she lucked out and didn’t have a roommate. She gives a soft hum looking around, it was nice. She’d better get used to it since she would be living here for the next 9 months.

She walked to the bed on the left, and set her stuff down next to it. Saebyeok kicks off her boots somewhere around the room, sitting on her bed. Just when she’s about to close her eyes and get much needed sleep, she hears the keys in the keyhole.

Saebyeok’s eyes shoot open. Why would her roommate also get here this late? But, what catches her by surprise, is you. She watched you drag your heavy pink suitcase in disbelief. Was this some kind of prank? Out of everyone that could’ve been her roommate, it had to be her?

The perky girl from the train, the one who wouldn’t let her sleep, you. Saebyeok had gotten a loud, annoying and nosy roommate. It felt like the universe was against her. What did she do to deserve this? Or maybe she was just really unlucky?

You hadn’t seen her yet, still tugging on your suitcase to get it to budge out of the doorway. When you finally make it into the room, you look up seeing the girl from the train, Saebyeok. Instead of the blank face she wore on the train, she wore a frustrated scowl.

“Mystery girl! It’s me from the train, remember?.” You say as if it was an option for her to forget you. Trust her, if it was an option she would forget.

“I remember.” She grumbles, leaning her head back against the wall.

You can practically feel the tension rolling off of her, the kind of vibe that says "I did not sign up for this." Her arms cross tightly over her chest as she glances over at you, clearly not thrilled with the situation. You can tell she’s trying her best to stay composed, but the eye roll she gives says enough about how she feels.

“Well, I guess this is it, huh?” you say with a bright, almost teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood. It’s clear she’s not into the idea of small talk, but you’re determined to make this situation a little less awkward. Your determined to make Saebyeok like you, even just tolerate you.

She doesn't respond at first, just sort of watches you struggle with your suitcase for a second before she finally speaks up.

“Why are you so... loud?” Saebyeok mutters under her breath, though it’s loud enough for you to hear. The bluntness catches you off guard, but you’re not backing down that easily. She’s obviously irritated, but maybe—just maybe—you can crack that shell she’s got going on.

You take a deep breath, giving her a grin that’s borderline obnoxious but good-natured. “Guess I’m just built this way. Some people are magnets for trouble. Lucky for you, I’m stuck here with you.”

She narrows her eyes at you, but there’s no real malice behind it—just exhaustion and frustration. "Great," she replies sarcastically, her voice dripping with a kind of dry humor that surprises you a little. "Just what I needed."

“Just keep the noise down,” she warns, though there’s a trace of something softer in her tone.

“Promise,” you say, holding up a hand like a mock oath. “No loud music, no random deep conversations at 3 a.m. I’ll be your silent, non-annoying roommate.”

Her eyebrows furrow as you said that, were you even capable of being silent? “Better be,” she mutters, leaning back into her spot against the wall again. But this time, the scowl seems a little less intense, maybe even a little more resigned.

“Come on, this is totally a sign that we have to be friends.” you laugh, moving to set your suitcase down on the bed. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you're starting to like me already.” You say, in an almost a teasing way.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, this isn’t a sign. This is just me being unlucky.” Saebyeok grumbles, obviously not too happy with the situation.

“We’ll see, I have a way of making people like me.” You say, smiling sitting on your bed to sleep.

Saebyeok doesn’t respond, but at least she doesn’t seem actively plotting how to escape either. It’s a start.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hi! Can I please request a soft!dark fic with Lloyd Hansen? With a little age gap (she’s in her early twenties) Maybe he took her as at first only as a hostage in order to get someone he’s be hired to “take care of” out of hiding, but after a couple months of her being in his mansion (it’s taking a while for the guy he’s hunting to show up) he has become rather fond of her and has fallen in love with her. So when he finally catches the guy he’s going after, Y/n is expecting that he’ll let her go home now but he reveals that he never had any intention of letting her go and that she wants her to be his. She has never tried to run away, has always listened to whatever said. While she does start crying at the news that Lloyd is indeed not letting her leave, he manages to soothe her, promising that he’ll take care of her and love her and make her forget the way she got there, so she just clings to him taking solace in the warmth and comfort of his arms

Change Of Heart » Lloyd Hansen

Pairings: Soft Dark!Lloyd Hansen x Female Reader

Summary: Lloyd has a change of heart with you shortly after taking you hostage.

Warnings: Soft Dark, Fluff, language, age gap (reader is in her early 20s), held hostage, mentions of murder, crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request, nonnie🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

Lloyd walks in the club with his hands in his pockets to look causal. He took a walk around the club before leaning against the wall. He looks at the sea of people who is either dancing or is too drunk to function. That’s when you caught his eye. He watches you for a moment before motioning one of his men over to him.

“Get her when she leaves.” Lloyd says lowly, pointing at you.

“Yes, boss.” He replies.

As it got later, you decided to leave. You were about to open the door to your car when someone grabbed you from behind and put a hand on your mouth to keep you quiet. You kicked and screamed, trying to fight off the person behind you, but it was no use. You felt yourself grow weak when you kept inhaling the chloroform that was on the small white rag in the person’s hand. The person picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and walked over to Lloyd. Lloyd tilted your head up and moved your hair out from your face, making sure his men got the right person.

“Great job. Take her to my mansion.” Lloyd says.

His men nodded and did as they were told.

You woke up a while later in an unfamiliar room, which appears to be a bedroom. You sat up and looked around the room to gather your surroundings. You were in a state of confusion. You looked down, noticing you weren’t wearing the outfit you wore to the club last night. You were now wearing a sweat outside, which you’ll admit is comfortable. You got out of bed to walk around the bedroom. You walked over to the window, looking out of it. You were trying to figure out where you are, but nothing is coming to your mind. No one you know has a house this expensive.

You jumped when you heard the bedroom door open. You turned around to see a man with a mustache. He closed the door behind him. You stayed frozen in the spot you’re standing in, not daring to move a muscle. You didn’t dare to say a word either.

“Hello there, Y/N.” Lloyd says.

“How do you know my name?” You asked.

“I do thorough research on everyone.” He took a seat in one of the nice chairs one the other side of the bedroom. “Have a seat.” He says, gesturing to the chair across from him.

You hesitantly walked over to the chair and sat down.

“I’m Lloyd Hansen of Hansen Government Services and before you ask, you’re in my mansion.” Lloyd introduces himself. “The reason why you’re here is because someone who you’re acquaintances with and I hired is in hiding.” He says.

“Who?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“I think you know.” He says, leaning back in the chair.

You thought about it for a moment, but your mind is drawing a blank. You honestly don’t know who Lloyd is talking about.

“Anyways, I had you brought here as leverage against him to see if he’ll come out of hiding.” He says.

“What did I do?” You asked.

“Absolutely nothing, sunshine.” He replies. “I just want to see how long it takes him to come out of hiding so he can come to me.” He says.

“If whoever you’re talking about comes out of hiding, will you let me go?” You asked.

“Maybe or maybe not.” Lloyd answers.

Lloyd stood up from and walked to the door, putting his hand on the doorknob, but didn’t turn it.

“There’s books and magazines on the book shelf in the corner for you to read and food will be brought to you. There’s a bathroom in here and there’s clothes in the dresser for you.” Lloyd opened the door and then turned around. “One more thing, don’t even think about trying to escape.” He says.

Lloyd closed the door, locking it from the outside. You sighed and leaned your head against the chair. You stood up and walked over to the book shelf. You looked at the variety of books and magazines that are on the shelves. You grabbed a random one to read. You sat down on the bed, leaning your back against the headboard and covered your lap with the blanket. You might as well red the books and magazines since you’re not getting out of Lloyd’s mansion anytime soon.

The first few weeks you’ve been staying in Lloyd’s mansion, you haven’t tried to escape or run away in any way, which surprises Lloyd. He thought you would try to escape from him somehow at least once. He watched you closely just to be sure. He has a security camera hidden somewhere in the bedroom so he has eyes on you at all times. He doesn’t have it in there as a creep would. He just wants to make sure you don’t try anything he doesn’t want you to do.

“Hey there, sunshine.” Lloyd smiles as he walks in the bedroom two glasses and a bottle of scotch. “You want a drink?” He asks as he sat down in the chair.

You nodded and stood up from the bed, walking over to him and sitting down in the chair across from him. You watched as he poured some scotch in the glass and hand it to you. You hesitantly took it from it and looked in the glass.

“I didn’t poison it or anything if that’s what you’re thinking.” He says, taking a sip of his drink.

“It’s not that.” You mumbled. “What is it?” You asked as you continued to stare at the liquid inside of the glass.

“Scotch.” He answers.

“I’ve never tried it before.” You say.

“Try it. You might like it.” He says.

You stared at the scotch for a few more seconds before taking a sip of it. You felt the burn of it slide down your throat, but other than that, it’s pretty good.

“It’s good.” You say.

You stared at the glass and tapped your fingers against it as an awkward silence fills the room.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked after a moment.

“Sure.” Lloyd says, taking a sip of his drink.

“I’ve been here for a while and I was wondering when I could go home.” You say.

Lloyd sighs and puts the glass on the small table next to him.

“You’re not going anywhere, cupcake.” He says.

“Why not?” You asked.

“That acquaintance of yours isn’t here yet, which means you’re staying here until I see fit.” He says.

“Oh.” You mumbled quietly.

You put the glass on the small table and started fiddling with your fingers, avoiding eye contact with Lloyd. Your bottom lip quivered and you felt your eyes tearing up.

“Don’t be like that, sunshine.” He coos, gently tilting your head up so you were making eye contact with him. “If you’re thinking I’m going to hurt you or something, that’s not my intention. All I’m doing is waiting for him to show up. I promise to keep you safe. Ok?” He says softly.

You nodded softly. Lloyd smiles and kisses your forehead.

“Can I at least leave this room and roam around your mansion?” You asked.

Lloyd stared at you for a moment. He knows you’re not going to escape in any way. He’s not sure if he should give you free rein of his mansion. He knows he can trust you, but he wants to keep you in the bedroom a little while longer to build up that trust a bit more.

“I’ll think about it.” He says.

“Ok.” You say quietly.

Another few weeks go by before Lloyd finally gives you free rein of his mansion. He watched you like a hawk just to make sure you didn’t try anything. You roamed his mansion just to see what it looked like. Besides the bedroom he has you set up in, you hangout in the kitchen and the living room most of the time.

Also, you and Lloyd have gotten closer to each other. Lloyd has been developing feelings for you. Whenever your acquaintance gets back to him, he’s not sure if he wants you to let you go or not. He loves you too much to let you leave him. When that acquaintance of yours finally showed up, he decided to break the news to you.

“Hey, sunshine. What’re you up to?” Lloyd asks, walking in the living room.

“Just reading you say.” You say.

“I have something important to tell you.” He says, sitting down on the couch next to you.

“What is it?” You asked, bookmarking the page you’re on in the book you’re reading and put it on the coffee table.

“That acquaintance of yours finally showed up.” He says.

“Did he finish the work you hired him to do?” You asked.

“No, but he got taken care of.” He says.

“Taken care of?” You questioned, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

Lloyd let you think about it for a moment. That’s when you realize what he meant by “taken care of”. You gasped loudly.

“Why would you do that?!” You exclaimed.

“I had to, sunshine.” Lloyd says.

Your eyes teared up and a couple tears rolled down your cheeks.

“You could’ve talked to him and let him explain himself.” You say.

“I did, but he didn’t fulfill the job I hired him to do.” He says.

You started stammering with your words. You couldn’t figure out what you wanted to say now. At this point, tears were streaming down your face. Lloyd wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him as you cried.

“Not that I want to leave, does this mean I’m not leaving here?” You asked, looking up at him.

“I’m afraid so, sunshine.” Lloyd says softly.

You whimpered and looked down, avoiding eye contact with him. Lloyd gently tilted your head up so you were looking him in the eye.

“I’m not going to let a thing happen to you. I’m going to do everything I can to protect you.” Lloyd promises.

“Promise?” You asked with a sniffle.

“I promise.” He whispers.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you. Lloyd’s eyes flickered down to your lips, curiously thinking about how soft your lips would be against his. He leaned and pressed his lips against yours, kissing you sweetly. Lloyd expected you to push him away for kissing you, but you didn’t. Your hands grasped his shirt, clutching it tightly in your hands. You melted into his touch. He slowly pulls away, leaving you speechless from the mind blowing kiss he just gave you.

“I love you!” You blurted out.

Your eyes went wide and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. A smile grew on Lloyd’s face, happy that you’re coming around to the idea of him even more.

“I love you too, sunshine.” Lloyd says softly, kissing you once more.

💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

-Bucky’s Doll

[liminalpebble]

Hey Peb! 💖 I’m not sure if this suits the length/format, but how about: Avengers au, you & the team are celebrating a successful mission, and our Silvertongue proposes a toast. In amongst the standard congratulations, he accidentally hints at a feeling or two about the reader.

If this doesn’t work for you, ok to skip 💚 thank you!

Surprise! Happy Valentine's Day, Lady. Loki has something special for you! 💚

The Angel in His Ear

AN: The Avengers rely on you as their tactical expert. You're the well-prepared strategic agent, the voice in their headsets that invisibly guides them through their dangerous missions. Sometimes, though, it can be thankless work. Loki, however, never takes you for granted and he's about to show you just how much you mean to him.

AU Loki on Avengers team x femme reader

CW: nothing I can think of. Cussing, maybe. Mostly a fluffy Valentine's treat for @sweetsigyn and @ladyofthestayingpower

----

It was a coincidence really, that the mission wrapped up February 13th. Stark's victory parties were always held the day after, like clockwork, when everyone was back together in Avenger's Tower. It was a sacred tradition. That meant, of course, that this one would be on Valentine's Day.

You groaned and rubbed your temples as you thought about it. You'd completely forgotten about these parties, forgot about Valentine's Day too. It hardly seemed important when the whole team was expecting your voice in their headsets telling them which bullets to dodge or exits to take. Every ounce of your energy had been used up on tracking the team, constantly directing them through their earpieces in real time. It was grueling and stressful, hours of making quick decisions to get everyone out alive.

Even thinking about dragging yourself to the swanky party in your nicest (but most uncomfortable) dress while everyone schmoozed and mingled and chitchatted with fancy drinks and hor d'oeuvres, made you feel a bit bitter.

It wasn't that you didn't like a party, or a nice drink, or delicious food, or your team members. It was just that most of the time you didn't feel like you belonged. You weren't a super soldier or a demigod, you were just an agent.

You were the first agent to greet them as they landed, funneling out of the jet slapping each other's backs in congratulations and basking in their victory, forgetting that you were the one guiding them through it all.

Not all of them were like that, though. Tony was, of course, an asshole and never even acknowledged your presence. You were pretty sure he didn't even know your name. Natasha was kind, usually giving you a little nod, or wink, or salute of thanks, sometimes even a hug. But the best moment always came last, when you'd spot Loki's tall elegant form exiting the plane. He always let everyone go before him, and he always walked towards you gracefully with that irresistible smile, even when he was beaten up or clearly exhausted.

Every time, he would take your hand gently, bow to kiss it and say, “Thank you, dear lady, for your guidance. We could never do this without you.”

That was enough to send all the blood rushing to your head in a hot wave, but then he would also meet your gaze for a long moment, those aquamarine irises taking you in, making you feel so seen, valued, precious even.

You loved those moments, and he never failed to bestow them. Every time. You tried to rationalize his actions. He's a prince, after all. In his culture it's probably just good royal manners to be over-the-top charming like that. He'd probably do that with anyone.

At least I'll get to see him in a suit, you thought with a smirk as you put the finishing touches on your hair and makeup. You huffed at your reflection in the mirror. It was the same thing you wore every time, that one “good dress” and nice heels. With a sour feeling you thought to yourself, it doesn't matter. No one will notice me anyway.

Nevertheless, you rallied and click-clacked your way around the shiny atrium, drink in hand, trying to just enjoy the scene; the breathtaking skyline, the beautiful gowns and opulent red and pink lanyards and balloons. The free gourmet chocolates and champagne weren't bad either. Yeah, you considered, Yeah I could get used to this.

Just as you were beginning to settle into enjoying your anonymity and sensory treats, you heard a beautiful silky baritone call out your name. You'd know that voice anywhere and it gave you a bubbly rush that had nothing to do with the champagne.

When you turned to see him in that stunning three-piece suit, you decided that the view of the city was only the second most breathtaking thing you'd seen tonight. He was a beguiling dream in perfectly tailored forest green satin, and he was grinning broadly at you and only you. And god, he had his luscious inky black hair pulled back into a neat low ponytail tonight. You were definitely not prepared for the heavenly sight of him looking like this. You were so stunned you momentarily forgot that you can't breathe and swallow your drink at the same time.

Coughing slightly, you greeted him warmly. “Loki! Sorry! You surprised me. You look fantastic.”

He nodded graciously, hands hooked into his pockets as he shifted weight from one foot to the other. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he seemed a bit boyish and nervous, and you couldn't for the life of you imagine why.

“As do you, my dear lady,” he said kissing your hand, “absolutely ravishing.”

You giggled. You couldn't help it. The man oozed charm.

You spotted the slightest hint of pale pink painted over his porcelain cheeks and a funny little sway in his movements.

“Loki...are you drunk?”

“Nooo,” he said with a theatrical hand to his chest, “why of course not! I'm just full....but I am very full.”

“Full of what?”

“Shit,” quipped Thor from behind his brother, then laughed thunderously at his own cleverness.

Loki rolled his eyes and rubbed his forehead in annoyance while the big blond oaf slapped his back and said, “Oh, I only jest, brother!” then sauntered on through the room with his flagon of ale.

Loki sighed and then met your eyes saying, “You know, sometimes I feel like I don't belong on this planet.”

“That makes two of us...and I was born here,” you said.

“Really, darling? What a shame that you, of all people, feel like an outsider.” He fixed you with those beautiful sapphire eyes again. “As one who's always been one, I'd hate for you to feel such pain. You're...so warm...so kind.”

“It's okay,” you said softly and sadly. “I'm used to it. And I'm just grateful for your kindness.”

“I see you, my lady,” he said with a faint, knowing grin, “and you deserve the kindness you give.”

You both toasted to that. But the moment was shattered as Tony took the mic and began the long process of toasting their victory. Everyone took turns, drunkenly slurring a “cheers” into the microphone and praising their friends. It was par for the course with this sort of thing, white noise in the background of your many evenings spent this way. Until something altogether different happened...something no one was expecting, least of all you.

Loki had performed a graceful little hop onto the stage and before you knew it, you heard your name, in his voice, float through the entire room, loud and clear.

You stood, staring like a deer in headlights, completely unsure of what was about to happen and willing yourself to disappear right through the floor. You questioned if this was really happening, but then he said your name again, more softly, just for you this time even though it was across a room.

“A toast to this dear lady, to the guardian angel speaking into our ears, guiding us like a goddess of victory through the darkest and most violent of times. My dear,” he continued, a broad lovely hand over his chest and eyebrows peaked in a soft expression. He seemed on the verge of tears. “You've saved us all, but you've saved me especially, in every way...been a friend when I was friendless, saw the good in me when no one had.”

The room was utterly silent. You could hear your own pulse in your ears. He couldn't be saying what you though he was saying, could he?

“You spent so many days listening, caring, seeing me. Well, I see you, darling. And shame on anyone who took you for granted.”

He took a moment to scowl at his team mates, a sharp glare above his severe cheekbones giving everyone pause, especially Tony. With a single look he made it clear that no one would undervalue you ever again, or they would have to deal with him.

He held on to the microphone stand now, looking down contemplatively, uncharacteristically unsure of what to say or how to say it.

Finally he continued, “What I mean to say is....I...you are...I feel...oh hell.”

He leaped off the platform in one graceful swoop and bounded towards you, closing the distance in a few effortless movements of his long legs.

Before you knew it, his arm curved gently around your waist, the other cradling your face and his lips meeting yours frantically in an ecstatic kiss. The world faded around you. There were deafening cheers, there were glasses clinking, there was confetti and music, but none of it compared to the little universe of joy Loki had just made for you.

You pulled back, reluctantly, but in need of air, high and dizzy from his grand gesture. He stared down at your face, the most lovely thing he had ever seen, and stroked it gently saying, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you...I just...”

You shut him up with another long giddy kiss. Then said, “We should have done this a long time ago.”

You both chuckled and began to dance in a shower of confetti, hope, and relief, knowing that you'd both have a guardian angel from now on.

@averagetmblrusser @primrosesposts @fruityfucker @arunabrak @mischief2sarawr @ladyofthestayingpower @acidcasualties @unlucky-number-13 @goblingirlsarah @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokihiddleston @chokeanddagger @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @marcotheflychair @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @littlespaceyelf @little-wormwood @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @eleniblue @loz-3 @the-haven-of-fiction @sweetsigyn @muddyorbs @icytrickster17 @holdmytesseract @thenerdyoldersister @thedistractedagglomeration @sailorholly @coldnique @peaches1958 @infinitystoner @peachyjinx @mischiefmaker615 @jennyggggrrr @tripleyeeet @itsybitchylittlewitchy @mochie85 @huntress-artemiss @madi0987 @buttercupcookies-blog @annoyingsweetsstranger @anukulee @aesonmae @angelofasgard16 @salempoe @n3rdybirdee @buttercupcookies-blog @fictive-sl0th @queenofstarsign85