#nice little surprise from the postman

[rachlou86]

Prayer candle will be useful when international tour dates are finally announced!!

[whatifitis]

♡ Cursing The Daylight - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Lando hates knowing you never sleep well so when he believes he's figured out why, he makes it his mission to save his sleepy girlfriend from sleep deprivation.

Author's note: A little blurb thing I wrote at 2 am. I tried my best 😭

WC: 1045

CW: Lando being a bit dumb and the sweetest person ever, fluff

You were currently cursing the daylight, watching as a blue bird flew past your window.

Fucker 

It was yet another sleepless night in your apartment. You continued to stare at your alarm clock, waiting for it to go off, a little reminder that if you were capable of sleeping properly, you’d still have 5 more minutes of sleep. 

For most of your life, especially in recent years, you’ve never been able to get a full night's rest. You’d always end up tossing and turning for hours, as well as waking up about 7 times a night. Every day you would feel irritated and restless due to your lack of sleep. 

However, whenever you slept over at your boyfriend's house, you always managed to get a good night's sleep. You and your boyfriend, Lando, have been together for about 5 months. The first night you two had spent together, was the first time you’d been able to sleep well. You woke up bright and early and you felt amazing, like nothing could stop you. 

Over the course of your relationship, Lando came to be aware of your inability to sleep well most nights. Whenever you would sleep in your own apartment, Lando would receive mass amounts of texts from you, all about how you slept terribly and that you either needed a nap or many coffees. 

Lando, being the ever so lovely person he is, picked up on something. The only times you would get a good night's sleep, waking up and not needing to complain about anything and everything, was when you slept at his place. 

The mattress! The boy thought, she sleeps better at mine cause my mattress is fucking mint. 

Upon realizing this, Lando goes and orders the same exact mattress he has, and has it sent to yours. He thought it’d be a nice surprise for you so that you can get a goodnight sleep every night. Another plus would be that you guys are coming up on your 6 month anniversary, this counts as a gift right?, thinks Lando. 

The day Lando gets an email stating that the mattress was out for delivery, he books it to your place, wanting to be there to see your reaction to his gift and so that he could help you bring it in and set it up. 

Lando arrives at your apartment, greeted by you with a massive smile and sparkling eyes. He wastes no time in pulling you to him by your hips and wrapping his arms around your torso. As you wrap your arms around his neck you say, “As much as I love seeing you, what are you doing here? I thought we were going to meet up later tonight for movie night.”

As Lando pulls away to look at you, the postman has just arrived. “That’s why.” he says, smiling cheekily and pointing to the truck behind him. 

The both of you watch as the postman begins to unload the mattress from the vehicle, before Lando jumps in and helps the man drag the mattress to the door of your apartment. 

Whilst Lando and the man bring the mattress into your apartment, you stand there dumbfounded. 

What the actual fuck is going on? The only thing I’ve ordered to my apartment is a new book and I don’t think the book is that big? Wait, did I order the right thing?!

As soon as the box is in your living area, you confront Lando, “Lan, my love, my gorgeous boy… what the fuck?” you ask, pointing at the big ass box in your living area. 

Your Lan stands there next to the box, all but swaying as he stands and gives you the biggest smile he could plaster on his face. 

The cheeky fuck. 

“It’s a mattress!” he says as he poses next to it, adding a pose for effect. 

“A mattress?” you ask.

“A mattress.” 

After a moment of silence, where you contemplated whether to strangle him or take his credit card away from him, you ask “Why?”

“Cause, you’re always tired and you never sleep well unless you’re at my place. So I figured out why! It’s because you find my mattress to feel so much better and comfier. I even ordered the same bed sheets I have, but I got yours in green since it’s your favorite color. They should be here tomorrow though so for tonight you can spend the night with me or we can use your old sheets.” he proposes, smiling so wide it makes your heart melt from the sweetness that you don’t deserve. 

He gets you the same mattress he has in his home, for your home. 

“I sleep better at yours because you’re there. Not because of the mattress, you muppet!” you exclaim. 

You watch as Lando’s face immediately drops, “what?” he asks. He’s truly been stunned with this information, “What’d you mean it’s not because of the mattress? You mean to tell me I haven’t helped solve your sleeping issues?! I thought I was smarter than all the doctors you’ve seen for this issue!”

You can’t help but laugh at your boyfriend's statement. 

“Gorgeous, you thought that of all the doctors I’ve seen… that none of them have thought that I was sleeping on an uncomfortable mattress?” 

Lando just stood there silent, blankly staring at a wall, likely contemplating all his life choices. 

“Fuck. So, do you not want the mattress? Seems like a hassle to return.” he states as he scratches the back of his neck, wondering how he’s going to return the heavy ass box. “Wait, you sleep better when you’re around me?” he looks at you, somewhat shocked. 

You walk up to him, taking his hands in yours and making him look you in the eyes, “Gorgeous, in the time we’ve been together, we’ve slept on couches and several different mattresses. And I always sleep well no matter where or what we are sleeping on. I sleep better because I’m with you, I feel safe with you.”

“Oh… oh!” he giggles a bit. Red starts to lightly color his face, he’s blushing, “That’s nice.”

You don’t think you’ve met anyone more awkward than this man, but you love him because of that, not in spite of it. 

[apomaro-mellow]

Steve had a puppy au from this ask

Elaine knew that her sister and her husband often left their son alone. And honestly, that just wasn't good for the boy. She had talked to her sister about it, it wasn't like she had to follow Richard around, but Margaret wasn't hearing it. So Elaine put it on herself to give young Steve a companion. In the form of a cavalier spaniel puppy. Twelve year old Steve had been over the moon when he met her for the first time.

Steve named her Lady. And she kept him company when his parents were out of town. Because they were gone so much, they didn't really mind at first. Barely noticed her. Steve wanted to prove himself, so he read a ton of books on caring for dogs. He learned to house train her, keep her from tearing into things, and even not to bark too loud. It helped that Lady was already so prim and proper to begin with.

She was a proper Harrington lass in Steve's eyes. And it was nice to have someone around when the sun went down and he was all alone in this big house. Whenever she laid her head on his leg or chest and gazed up at him, Steve felt like he was really being seen.

Eventually, there came a time when his parents were actually home for a decent stretch. Steve had had Lady for two years and had been using his allowance and birthday money to buy things for her. She had the fluffiest dog bed and a whole basket of toys.

"Lady!", Steve called out by the front door. "Time for a walk!"

Her little feet bounded against the floor, grating on Richard as he thought of a clumsy dog crashing into something in his house.

Lady would follow Steve to go and get the mail, barking happily to the postman, which annoyed Margaret to no end when she heard it day in and day out. Her shedding disgusted them. They didn't like how she roamed the house like she owned it.

Finally, Richard laid down the law. "Get rid of it", he ordered.

"Of what?", Steve asked, in the middle of figuring out some algebra homework. Eight grade was hard but Lady made it easier when she rested by his feet.

"Of the dog. She doesn't belong here."

"She does more than you", Steve glared.

"Watch your tone."

"I'm not getting rid of Lady", Steve said as he stood to his feet. Lady's head perked up.

Richard's hand went for her and Steve smacked it away. Sensing aggression, Lady got to her feet and started to growl. Before Richard could retaliate towards his own son, she lunged and bit into his hand. His scream prompted his wife to come into the room. Margaret stood between her husband and son, keeping Steve from going after his father as he held Lady by her scruff and took her away.

Steve watched from his window as Lady was driven away. Probably to the pound or out on the street, he didn't know which was worse. But he knew he'd never forgive his parents.

He missed Lady every time he thought about her, so he tried not to think that much. It got easier every time Hawkins was under attack. But with the defeat of Vecna, it felt like the closing of the final chapter. All loose ends had been tied. All that was left was healing and rebuilding.

Both physical and mental for one Eddie Munson, who found himself laid up at the hospital for several weeks. Luckily, he wasn't bored. He had a visitor nearly every day, the most surprising of which being Steve Harrington.

"Can't believe I get to hold court with the king nearly every day", Eddie said when Steve came in again.

"Of course you do, you're my court jester. I'm just here ahead of Wayne. He said he had a surprise and wanted me to warn you not to go over the top. Apparently he's sneaking someone in?"

Eddie could hear the apprehension in his voice and smiled to reassure him. "Worry not, Wayne's not breaking anyone out of prison."

True to Steve's word, Wayne came in, something bundled up in his arms. To anyone not paying any mind, especially in a hospital, it might appear to be a baby. But Eddie knew who it was and immediately smiled. Wayne closed the door and then let out a little whistle. The bundle heard the signal and began to move, poking their head out from the blanket wrap.

"Meatball!" Eddie reached his arms out to take the dog. Wayne handed them over and she licked all over his face, tail wagging excitedly.

"Meatball?", Steve's brow raised.

"Yeah, cause she looks like a lil meatball. And that's what I fed her when I first found her", Eddie beamed.

Steve shook his head. "She doesn't look like a meatball, she looks like-Lady?"

"From Lady and the Tramp? Yeah, she looks like that too", Eddie nodded, scratching her behind the ear.

"Lady?", Steve said again. And suddenly he had his own lap full of dog and her wet nose and tongue all over his face. "I can't believe-how long-Were you with Eddie this whole time?"

Lady let out a soft bark and then turned over in his lap for belly rubs.

"How do you know Meatball?", Eddie asked.

"Her name is Lady, and I've known her since she was a puppy", Steve explained while giving his best girl belly rubs. "My dad took her away, I never knew what happened to her."

"Eddie found her out in the woods", Wayne said. "Never seen a stray dog so polite. We could tell she'd been kept well, but she didn't have a collar."

Her being yours explains why she was such a little princess", Eddie teased.

"She's a proper lady, yes she is", Steve cooed.

"So, do we need to go to court for custody?", Eddie asked.

Steve put Lady onto Eddie's lap and petted the top of her head. "I'm sure we can come to an arrangement", Steve said. "We did with Dustin."

[rosyrosethings]

Prince Harry.

Word count: 4,533

Summary:Harry is a prince who goes in disguise to a new local bakery in his town. Y/n is a bakery owner who is American and has no idea about the royal family.

A little smut, slow burn, y/n is black.

The soft chime of the doorbell announced a new customer at "Daisy's Confections". Nestled in the quietest part of Albridge town, the bakery was a treasure trove of sugary delights. Freshly baked croissants, intricate pastries, and a variety of cookies lined the shelves, filling the air with a warm and comforting aroma. Everyone in town loved Y/n’s baking. Day by day her baking became more popular.

Even the Prince of Albridge heard of the amazing treats Harry who cant go out with out being noticed. He put on his baseball cap and his shades and his hoodie. He proceeded to try to leave out the palace

"Umm sir where are you going?" Ethan asked him, his bodyguard.

"I am going out alone." He said.

"Looking like a burglar? You know, can get both us in real trouble when you sneak out like that." Ethan said, his job to watch over Harry.

"Ethan I am just going into the town, I promise i will be back soon. If my grandmother or father are looking for me. Just cover for me? Please." He begged, Ethan sighed. Even though he was his bodyguard. They were friends. Ethan nodded as Harry proceeded to leave and make his way to the bakery.

Meanwhile, Behind the counter, Y/n adjusted her bun and dusted flour off her apron as she looked up to greet the newcomer. What she saw took her by surprise—a tall man in a navy-blue hoodie, sporting dark sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low to obscure most of his face. When the skies were clear and the sun was shining. The guy looked as if he was going to rob a bank or something she thought.

"Good morning," she greeted with a bright smile, undeterred by the man's peculiar appearance. "What can I offer you today?" Her American accent clear and crisp.

The stranger cleared his throat. A bit taken back by her beauty. Her dark brown skin glowing with the hint of sunlight shining on her. Her smile radiant. "I've heard a lot about your bakery . And I wanted to know if I could try for myself." He offered, his voice soft and hesitant.

Y/n's eyes sparkled. "Of course!" She slid a fresh cookie onto a plate and passed it to him. "Enjoy!"

As the man took a bite, a sigh escaped him, his posture relaxing. "This is heavenly. Your reputation does you justice," he commented, still maintaining his hidden demeanor.

Blushing slightly at the praise, Y/n couldn't contain her curiosity. "Thank you. I'm Y/n. I haven't seen you around here before."

The man paused, seemingly pondering his response. "I'm Henry. I just moved to Aldridge for... work."

”Nice to meet you Henry,.” she said,

Despite the sunglass's criminal aesthetic Henry had going on. Their conversation flowed effortlessly—from baking to books to dreams. Y/n was drawn to Henry's mysterious charm, and he seemed equally enamored by her passion for baking.Henry became a daily visitor. He always arrived at the same time, always ordered the same cookies.

One day Inside the fragrant cocoon of the bakery's kitchen, Y/n, lost in her own world, worked meticulously on her next masterpiece. Each fold of the dough, each sprinkle of sugar, was a testament to her passion for baking. The warm glow of the kitchen lights accentuated the small puffs of flour that rose every time she kneaded the dough.

As she hummed a soft tune, the creak of the kitchen door interrupted her rhythm. Brianna, her vibrant best friend and invaluable employee, stepped in, her eyes dancing with a familiar mischief.

"Guess who's graced us with his presence again?" she teased, playfully tugging at Y/n's apron.

Pretending to ponder, Y/n smirked, "The mayor? Or perhaps the postman?"

"Very funny," Brianna laughed, "Your very own elusive admirer. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mysterious."

Even though this had become a daily ritual, Y/n's heart still fluttered with anticipation. She hastily grabbed the closest reflective surface—a polished silver spoon—and tried to assess her appearance. "Do I have any flour on my face?"

Brianna chuckled, pulling the spoon away. "You're picture-perfect, as always. Though I'm sure he wouldn’t mind even if you did."

Y/n paused, gathering a breath before her next question, one that had been burning within her. "Bri, does it seem odd that he hasn't made a move yet? No number, no date invitation?"

Brianna leaned against the countertop, contemplating. "Y/n, every person has their pace. Maybe he's from the old school—likes to take his time, savor the moments. Besides," she winked, "anticipation can be quite... enticing."

With renewed hope, Y/n whispered, "Maybe today will be different."

"Only one way to find out." Brianna nudged her forward, propelling her toward the bakery's main floor.

As Y/n stepped out, her eyes instantly found Henry. He sat ensconced in his favorite corner, the overhead lights casting a gentle halo around him. Though his cap shadowed his eyes, Y/n felt them on her, their warmth reaching across the room.

She decided to create a special platter for him today. A medley of freshly baked cookies, each one a testament to her evolving craft, inspired in no small part by his daily visits.

Plate in hand, she approached his table, the world around them blurring into a soft haze. "Henry," she greeted, her voice holding a hint of a tremor.

His lips curled into that familiar heartwarming smile. "Y/n, your presence always makes the day brighter."

Blushing, she playfully retorted, "Smooth talker. Do you say that, for every baker in town?"

His laughter, deep and genuine, filled the room. "Only for those who've enchanted me with their culinary magic. And that list is quite... exclusive." She giggled in response.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, the world outside forgotten. Y/n shared stories of her family, her dreams, her love for Albridge. The town held a special place in her heart, with tales passed down from her grandmother about their ancestral bakery and the magic of this place.

Henry listened intently, his gaze never wavering. Every now and then, he'd share snippets of his own life, though always maintaining a shroud of mystery around his origins and profession. They soon transitioned to talking about the Royal family.

In a whispered confession, Y/n admitted, "Dont tell anyone but I might be a bit clueless about Albridge's high society. I wouldn't recognize the prince or princess even if they walked right in."

Henry's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Your secret's safe with me."

Their intimate bubble was punctured by the intrusive ring of Henry's phone. From Y/n's vantage point, she could see the caller ID read "URGENT." The color drained slightly from Henry's face as he answered, his voice hushed yet tense.

Y/n sensed his urgency, and although her heart sank, she quickly packed his cookies. On a whim, she tucked her business card inside, scribbling her personal number on the back.

"I have to go," he murmured, regret evident in his voice.

"oh. Okay," she nodded, trying to mask her disappointment. "Hope everything's okay."

He hesitated, then leaned closer. "I promise to explain someday. But for now," he glanced at the bag, then back at her, a soft promise in his eyes, "thank you."

With that, he rushed out, leaving Y/n with a myriad of emotions and questions. She clutched the empty plate, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

//

Upon returning to the palace, Harry gingerly placed the bag of cookies on his ornate desk. His princely duties called, and it was several hours of meetings and paperwork before he could think of relaxing. As evening fell, he retreated to the solitude of his chambers, his thoughts drifting to Y/n and the time they shared.

With a sense of anticipation, he opened the bag, his eyes drawn to a little card nestled among the cookies. Confused, he picked it up and inspected it. It bore the details of Y/n’s bakery on one side, and on the flip side, scribbled in elegant handwriting, was a number. A grin slowly spread across his face, his heart inexplicably racing.

Quickly he keyed in the number on his phone, pressing it to his ear.

A muffled shriek, followed by a giggle, sounded on the other end before a familiar voice answered, "Hello?"

"Is this the enchanting Y/n?" He teased, recognizing her voice instantly.

Her playful retort came quickly, "Depends on who's asking."

Feigning seriousness, he said, "I happened upon a card with a number in my cookie bag, and I must say that's a rather forward approach, don't you think?"

She chuckled, "Well, perhaps if a certain someone took the hint and asked for my number, I wouldn't have to resort to such tactics."

Henry laughed, "Has it been that obvious that my visits are less about the cookies and more about seeing you?"

She replied with a smirk evident in her voice, "Oh, completely. You make it so obvious by insisting that only I serve you. Though I must admit, I eagerly await your visits."

He could almost visualize her blushing. Taking a deep breath, he knew what he had to do next. "Y/n," he began, his voice suddenly more serious, "Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner tomorrow evening?"

Her response came without hesitation, "I'd love to."

//

Cloaked in the dim, romantic lighting of the restaurant, hidden from the prying world outside, Harry sat, bereft of his usual incognito accessories — no glasses, no hat. His heart thrummed a nervous beat in his chest, the absence of his familiar disguise rendering him more exposed than he'd been in a long while. "What if she doesn't see me the same way?" This fear looped incessantly in his mind, the vulnerability raw and unyielding. He was acutely aware that his royal identity held no sway with Y/n, her American roots placing her pleasantly outside the sphere of his family's fame.

The antique door hinges emitted a faint squeak, heralding her arrival. Harry's breath hitched as he pivoted to face her. Y/n was a vision — her red dress clung to her in all the right places, accentuating her graceful silhouette, the rich color gloriously offsetting her smooth, dark skin. Her hair, pulled back in a playful ponytail, featured a red ribbon that danced as she moved. It was a simple touch but one that showcased her attention to detail, her personal flair.

"Henry, you're... wow, you're so handsome," Y/n breathed out, a hint of awe lacing her tone as her gaze took him in, unshielded for the first time. The genuineness of her compliment eased the tight coil of anxiety in his chest, even if just a little.

He couldn't help but smile, the gesture reaching his eyes, bright with appreciation. "Thank you, Y/n. But tonight, you're the breathtaking one." He motioned towards her chair, their hands brushing during the process — an electric moment of contact that sent a jolt through them both.

As they settled into their seats, Y/n's curiosity bubbled to the surface. "Henry, I've always wondered... why the mystery? You have these striking features, almost like those runway models."

His laughter was a nervous flutter in the air. "Oh, thank you. I guess I value my privacy more than most," Harry admitted, the truth but not the whole truth.

She reached across the table, her hand an anchor in the sea of his uncertainties. "Well, you're downright gorgeous, Henry."

Heart pounding louder, he met her sincerity. "I feel the same about you," he whispered, the words thick with unspoken emotions.

Their connection deepened as they delved into further conversation. However, Y/n's next question caught him off-guard, "This place is quite upscale, Henry. What do you do, if you don't mind my asking?"

A pause. A rapid calculation. "I work with the royal family," he said, each word carefully weighed yet truthful within its own context.

"That's fascinating! What's your role there?" she pressed, excitement tinting her words.

"I handle their public relations," he replied swiftly, relief flooding him as he realized his answer remained within the bounds of his actual royal obligations.

Eager to steer away from the precipice of his secret, Harry shifted topics. "Y/n, you once spoke of the precise science behind your baking. What's been your greatest challenge in that regard?"

Her face transformed, the passion for her craft igniting her features. "Definitely the croquembouche. Mastering the caramel, achieving the flawless consistency... it was daunting but so rewarding to see the final structure."

Harry hung on her every word, her fervor, her dedication — it was enthralling. "You're a true artist, Y/n. Your commitment is nothing short of inspiring."

They wove through topics, from his 'studies' — a guise for his royal duties — to her culinary adventures. Laughter rang clear, opinions clashed and melded, and an unmistakable bond tethered them closer with each passing moment. Y/n's authenticity, her vivacious spirit, was a breath of fresh air in Harry's constrained, regal world.

As the evening's end drew inevitably closer, their departure loomed like a shadow, the joy of the night tinged with a hint of sorrow. Harry's heart felt heavy with unspoken truths, yet the warmth in her touch, the genuine affection in her smile, sparked a flicker of hope. Reluctantly, he escorted her to her car, each step punctuated with a silent promise to hold onto the night's magic just a little longer.

"Tonight was something out of a movie, Henry," she whispered, leaning casually yet alluringly against the driver's door, her eyes glistening under the starlit sky as she gazed up at him.

"And I, Y/n, am keenly awaiting the sequel," he replied earnestly, the depth of his emotions veiled beneath his words. He positioned his hand atop the car, his frame leaning towards her, an unspoken invitation hanging in the air.

"me too," she responded, her eyes briefly flitting to his lips, an action not missed by him. A subtle smirk graced his features; gently, he cradled her chin with his hand, drawing her in for a kiss. Their lips met, a perfect synchronization of breath and desire. As the kiss deepened, it surged with an intensity that was both thrilling and overwhelming, her arms winding around his neck, his finding a natural place around her waist.

Abruptly, Harry broke the kiss, the realization hitting him that despite the restaurant's exclusivity, they were still in a public place vulnerable to prying eyes.

"It's late; you should head home," he murmured, though the words tasted bitter, his own disappointment mirroring hers.

She gazed up at him, her eyes a mix of understanding and a hint of sadness. "Yes, you're right," she agreed softly, the reluctance evident in her voice as she slowly unwrapped her arms from his embrace.

"I promise, it's not about you," he reassured her, sensing her thoughts. His hand lingered on her waist for a moment longer before he stepped back, his lips pressing a tender kiss to her cheek. "I'm just a private person, love. But tomorrow, I'm all yours," he affirmed, opening the car door for her.

She nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, understanding yet yearning evident in her eyes. As she settled into the driver's seat, their eyes locked once more, a silent vow exchanged. With a final wave, she pulled away, and he stood there, watching the distance grow, their shared kiss a promise of what was yet to come.

//

The following day found Y/n in her bakery, the air sweet with the scent of pastries, but Henry was conspicuously absent. It was Sunday, and business hours were drawing to a close. Deciding to close up early, she sent her employees home, the clock ticking down the final ten minutes. Y/n tried to brush off the disappointment gnawing at her heart, but "a little upset" didn't begin to cover it. She felt a sting of abandonment. After a magical date, his absence felt like a stark rebuttal. Was he ghosting her? The thought nagged at her, an unwelcome lump forming in her throat.

The gentle tinkle of the entrance bell barely registered in her preoccupied mind. Without raising her eyes from the counter she was absently wiping, she called out, "I apologize, but we're closing. Please, feel free to visit us tomorrow when we—"

"But what if I'm acquainted with the owner?" a familiar voice interjected, its warm timbre instantly lifting her spirits.

Y/n's head shot up, her heart skipping a beat. There stood Henry, an apologetic smile playing on his lips. Relief washed over her, and she couldn't help but smile back.

"I was worried you'd decided to ditch me," she confessed, her voice tinged with residual concern yet a smile brightening her expression.

"Ditch you? I would never," he declared as he sauntered confidently toward her, coming around to her side of the counter. Without hesitation, he grasped the strings of her apron, tugging her gently but insistently closer, and sealed his words with a kiss.

"I've missed you immensely," he murmured against her lips, his breath warm and reassuring. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since last night, especially yearning for another kiss." He said, she pulled away slightly.

"How about we just retreat to my place and unwind with a movie?" she proposed, the corners of her mouth lifting in a hopeful smile. His response was a grin that didn't just reach his eyes but seemed to light them from within. "That sounds like an evening well spent, beautiful," he agreed warmly.

Thus, they transitioned from the day's close, with Harry lending a hand as Y/n locked up the bakery for the night. Together, they ascended the stairs to her apartment, nestled conveniently above her beloved shop. The door swung open to reveal a charming, intimately spaced two-bedroom abode, every nook a testament to Y/n's simple yet cozy taste.

Bri, her roommate, emerged from the kitchen, her attention glued to her phone screen. "Y/n, you're back earlier than I expected. I know you were upset that Henry didn't drop by today, but maybe —" Her words stumbled to a halt as her gaze flicked upwards, colliding with the sight of Y/n accompanied by an unfamiliar figure. The man's striking features were undeniably alluring, leaving Bri momentarily speechless.

"You're... you're Henry?" Bri stammered, her initial shock transitioning into a mix of surprise and immediate appreciation for his almost ethereal good looks.

"Yes, I am. It's a pleasure to meet you under more formal circumstances," Harry replied with a courteous smile. Though they'd crossed paths when he visited the shop, he'd always have on the shades, baseball cap, and a hoodie.

Flustered yet amused by the unexpected revelation, Bri quickly gathered herself. "Well, I'll just forget I was about to say anything. I’ll leave you two alone," she quipped, snatching a few snacks before darting a playful, exaggerated 'HE'S GORGEOUS!' mime to Y/n and scampering toward the sanctuary of her room.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully, then gestured apologetically at Bri's retreating figure. "Sorry about her," she said, a sheepish grin tugging at her lips as she guided him to the living room sofa.

"Don't be. She seems wonderful," Harry reassured, his laughter a soft melody in the homely space. They settled into the couch, the familiar proximity a bubble of comfort. Y/n seized the remote, her fingers dancing over the buttons as she browsed through an extensive list of titles across various streaming platforms. Harry's gaze lingered on her, admiration evident in his eyes. Even in profile, she was a captivating canvas he couldn't draw his eyes away from.

"Alright, romance it is!" Y/n announced, her decision punctuating the comfortable silence. She selected a film known for its heartfelt narrative, the screen brightening as it played.

"You can never go wrong with a compelling love story," Harry concurred, his arm instinctively draping over her shoulders, drawing her into the curve of his side. Though she leaned into his embrace, her eyes were steadfast on the screen, a slight tension in her posture. He sensed a reticence in her, a vulnerability perhaps kindled by the day's earlier disappointments.

She was a tempest of emotions, desire mingling with the fear of rejection. So she fixated on the unfolding romance on-screen, a safe harbor in the storm of her heart — hoping the distance of her gaze would shield her from the urge to lean into the warmth of the man whose presence had become her solace.

Harry, intuitively attuned to her, couldn't help but notice the subtle rigidity in her posture, the way her eyes studiously avoided meeting his. He understood her unspoken hesitance, her internal struggle. Deciding to gently challenge the barriers she'd put up, he allowed himself a small, inward smirk before deliberately shifting his approach.

With a feathery lightness, his hand found its way to her thigh, fingertips grazing the fabric of her black leggings in a slow, reassuring rhythm. He could feel the minute stiffening of her muscles under his touch, a silent acknowledgment of the unexpected contact.

"Is this alright, love?" he inquired, his voice low, a tender undercurrent beneath the words. She offered a mute nod, her gaze obstinately fixed on the flickering images on the TV screen, though he could sense her attention fracturing.

Respecting her boundaries yet wanting to bridge the chasm that had formed between them, Harry retracted his hand from her leg. With a gentleness that belied the strength in his fingers, he guided her chin, encouraging her face to turn towards his.

"I want to see your eyes when we're speaking," he murmured, the request uttered not as a command but as a plea laced with affection. The soft intensity in his voice coaxed her to swallow her uncertainties, prompting her to offer a timid nod and finally allow her eyes to meet his.

In the sanctuary of their shared gaze, he leaned forward, diminishing the space that separated them. And when his lips finally captured hers, it wasn't just a kiss but a communion, a silent reassurance that she was heard, understood, and cherished exactly as she was. His dominance making her wetter and wetter. His hand started to make its way in between her legs. Her pussy aching for his touch since last night. His hand slid in her leggings over her panties. His fingers slid over the slit. Feeling her wetness through the thin fabric. He pulled apart from the kiss and looked at her

"You're so wet love, all this for me?" He asked, there foreheads together. Looking into each other eyes.

"Yes, I've wanted you for so long." She said, he slid her panties to the side and he inserted his fingers into her. Causing her to gasp slightly.

"Mmm so wet and tight for me baby." He said as he slid in another finger.

"Ohh fuck. He-." He cut her off with a kiss. Not wanting her to say his fake name. He moved his fingers in her going a at a steady pace. Her hand found it way to his hair slightly tugging at his curls. She was so mesmerized by his fingers. She never had a man make her cum with his hand. His other hand slid behind her back. Grabbing her by her waist pulling her into his lap. Her to his chest as he continued to finger fuck her

"I-I'm gonna c-"

"Shh baby, just let it happen. Cum all over my fingers. " he whispered in her ear. She couldn't hold it anymore. She came all over his hand. He took his hand out her pants licking his two fingers clean. "You taste good." He whispered.

"Henry, you're so dominant. I wasn't expecting that at all." She said, getting off his lap right on side. Sitting on her knees to face him.

"Why didn't you expect it?" He asked raising his brow.

"You're very proper, you always look like you come from a polo match. And you speak like a thesaurus was read to you before you went to sleep." She said looking at him.

A genuine, light-hearted chuckle escaped him, the sound sophisticated yet endearing. "I can't decipher if I should be flattered or slightly affronted by that observation," he admitted, his lips twisting in a playful grimace.

"How about we forget what i just said pick up where we left off?" She said, leaning in for a kiss.

Their lips met, a brief but charged interaction. Harry, however, pulled back sooner than she anticipated. "I’m rather spent, my love. What do you say we retire for the evening?" His proposal was tender, his British lilt prominent, as he took her hand with gentle nobility. She nodded, laying on top of him. Her head snuggled on his shoulder.

//

The following day found Y/n steering clear of the bakery, opting instead for chores and errands — perhaps partly because she needed a distraction from Henry's absence. He'd informed her he wouldn't be around, tied up with obligations to the crown. The news had left a dull ache in her chest; she was already tumbling headlong into this unexpected romance.

While she was dusting, her phone hummed with an incoming email, pulling her attention. She tapped the notification hurriedly.

"Dear Y/n,

My name is Maria, and I serve as the primary event planner for the royal family. Your bakery has garnered quite the reputation as the finest in the city. We are thrilled to extend an invitation for you to showcase your renowned baked delights at the royal banquet this coming Saturday! Kindly respond at your earliest convenience so we may finalize the particulars.

Warm regards,

Maria"

Y/n's heart practically leapt out of her chest. Fingers flying, she crafted a prompt reply, her excitement bubbling over.

Meanwhile, Harry was waging a war within himself. He was drawn to her, undeniably, yet shackled by the weight of royal expectations. He understood all too well that his family would hardly endorse his entanglement with a baker, no matter her charm. They likely had grand matrimonial designs already in the works. However, in his mind's eye, it was a future with Y/n that he envisioned.

Dinner that evening was a formal affair, as always. Henry sat rigidly between his grandmother and father, his mind drifting incessantly back to the woman who was slowly but surely captivating his heart. He barely registered the meal served by the diligent staff, offering them a distracted word of gratitude.

The conversation inevitably veered toward his marital prospects. "Harry, time isn't on your side indefinitely. You must consider marriage," his father pressed, his tone brooking no argument.

But Harry, ever the "defiant" one in royal terms, wasn’t swayed. "The kingdom doesn't require a queen by my side to thrive," he countered calmly, though he could sense his father’s growing frustration.

"The royal banquet is this Saturday," his grandmother interjected with diplomatic timing, "We've arranged for you to be seated next to Princess Emma."

Henry exhaled slowly, a respectful bow of his head acknowledging her words, though it did little to quell the rebellion simmering within him. "As you wish, Grandmother." His acquiescence was polite, devoid of enthusiasm, his thoughts adrift with visions of a certain baker and the what-ifs she brought along.

[should-know-better]

What if Four Stars Out Of Five is a call to Miles?

Firstly, I know that every song that Alex Turner writes isn’t about Miles, but, I’d had a couple of glasses of wine the other night and was listening to Four Stars Out Of Five and I started having thoughts. Now I can’t get them out of my head, so I thought I’d share and see if anyone would like to add anything.

Alex said in this interview that 4 Stars out of Five meant two things; a rating system and also stars in a lunar landscape. But what if it has a third meaning?

Alex creates his Space Hotel and has a house band there (ie the Arctic Monkeys) - 4 stars. But he misses Miles - his fifth star! Don’t forget that he’s referred to Miles as a Superstar before.

“As far as I’m concerned there are only two superstars, Beyonce and Miles Kane. You can quote me on that.” Yen Magazine 2011.

Maybe this song was written when Miles was in London with Jamie T (Spring 2017) throwing himself into work to get over his depression from his ‘professional’ split from Alex following the EYCTE tour and his split from Hannah. Therefore we get the lines,

“Take it easy for a little while, come and stay with us, it’s such an easy flight.”

Then there’s the verse that begins,

“Mr Bridge and Tunnel on the Starlight Express,”

I haven’t seen the musical ‘Starlight Express’ however from Wikipedia, I understand that it a) is a musical about belief and b) the starlight express is a mythical train that appears at the main character’s darkest hour, giving him the confidence to pick himself up and fight back. So, is Alex speaking to Miles during his depression and telling him to believe in himself? Oh and obviously, it happens to tie in by being a way to travel to Tranquility Base.

Also, Wikipedia tells me that there are no characters in the musical called ‘Mr Bridge and Tunnel.’ Yet, when you think about it, you can’t have a bridge without a tunnel. Is Alex saying that the two of them are still a partnership?

On top of this I discovered that it’s also a Batman reference!!! In The Dark Knight (2008) the Joker tricks Gotham into escaping via ferry by having his hostage declare on the news that “the bridge and tunnel crowd are sure in for a surprise.” This refers to how people have to travel into or out of the Island of Manhattan. Oh, and don’t forget that Miles went straight from Paris on the last night of the EYCTE tour to New York. Maybe Alex is referring to him and Miles as Mr Bridge and Tunnel, and that they need to have confidence and belief that everything will work out.

“The head of special effects,”

I feel that this refers to Miles and the effects pedals that he uses, or it could refer to a different type of head 😈 that has special effects on Alex!

“… in my minds eye, Hokey Cokey with the opposite sex, the things you try to forget, doesn’t time fly.”

I think we’ve all agreed that Hokey Cokey means sex from this post and this post. The actual line may refer to either Alex wanting to forget that Miles was with Hannah, or, it’s a message to Miles to tell him to forget about Hannah. It’s more likely to mean the latter due to the next lines:

“I’m in no position to give advice, I don’t want to be nice, And you know that.”

Alex is still with Taylor at this point in time.

Then there’s the bridge:

“All the nights that never happened, And the days that don’t exist

“The only time that we stop laughing is to breathe or steal a kiss”

Perhaps referring to those heady days away on tour.

“I can lift you up another semitone,”

We know that Alex taught Miles to sing more sweetly rather than just shout from another interview (that i can’t find right now) but also it could be referring to lifting his mood.

Oh and I learned that “the Information Action Ratio” refers to a concept from a book that Alex was reading (Amusing Ourselves to Death by Neil Postman) that we have so much information at our fingertips now that we don’t know what to do with it. Miles knows that happened on the EYCTE tour, so maybe it’s a reminder: what goes on tour, stays on tour”

There’s other lyrics that may or may not be relevant. Were Miles and Alex particularly fond of eating tacos? Is the exodus a religious reference for Miles? The Old Grey Whistle Test was a music program that would have been on TV when they were both growing up, but I’ve no idea if they watched it. Genius has a few ideas about why this is included in the lyrics but I can’t find any other relevance here other than it’s star related.

If anyone has any other suggestions about these lyrics I’d love to hear them. I know there are other ideas about what this song is about and they’re nothing like this! Obviously these are just my thoughts and I’ve no real idea what was going through Alex’s mind when he wrote this.

[bookshelfdreams]

here I sit peacefully doing my little crafts, having finally reached an understanding with my sewing machine as the doorbell rings

who could it be at this time of day?

(the postman asking me if I will take my neighbour's teleshopping packages. or bringing me my buttinette order, if I'm lucky)

it IS the postman but he doesn't hand me anything. Instead, in an unexpected turn of events, he asks me for money.

oh? OH!

International package! for me!! Let's see what's inside 😁

a box! And in that box

oh my god

it's the Actual 18th Centruy Cosmetics from our resident self-proclaimed funky little alchemist @triflesandparsnips!!

They're so pretty :')

I open this and it suddenly smells like a whole rose garden in here. And it's shimmery! A little bit.

I kind of wish I had opened this first. It has a very nice, subtle scent (that I can't appreciate properly because ROSES) and it feels very nice and moisturizing on the lips

noted

*immediately puts on mouth*

Thank you trifles!! What a wonderful surprise I can't thank you enough 💜💜💜💜

[dtmacgxstorys]

Victor Grantz X Reader!

This is a Victor Grantz/Postman X Gender Neutral Reader! (No Plan, Just Write!)

Note: So I took a couple different quizzes sometime ago, & apparently I'm most like Eli Clark, Aesop Carl & Victor Grantz!? Any, a story for my kin! 🥰

You wake up in an unfamiliar place with no money of how you got here. You try to get up, but the moment you sit up, you feel very dizzy. You feel something rude up against your leg. You look over to see a brownish yellow bulldog with a cute little top hat on. "Oh, Hello there little cutie!" You said, scratching the dog behind the ear. "... do you need help?" You turn to see a man with almost golden hair & eyes. ".. umm yeah." You take his hand & he helps you up. ".. where am I?" "The Oletus Manor. .. I'm Victor Grantz by the way." "Thank you Victor. Why am I here?" He fell silent, so you look up at him to see him looking at the dog. ".. is that your dog, what there name?" He bends down to pick the dog up. "His name is Wick!" Wick barks at you & you scratch under his chin.

You hear a door open & an overwhelming number of people introduced themselves. By the time most of them were done, one of them said it was almost time for dinner. They show you to the dining room, then Frederick Kreiburg ask: "So, who would you like to sit with, or do you not care?" "Umm.. I like to talk with Victor more." "Really!?" Victor says in surprise. "o-ok." "Anyone else in particular?" Frederick ask. "Uummm... no." A guy with an old black eye sits across from you. "Hi, Hi! Names Luca, what's yours?" "Um hi, I'm Y/N." "Huummm, nice name." Luca hums. "Hello. My name is Eli Clark. Do you mind if I join you?" "Not at all!" You say. "Thank you,... you're not bothered by my owl?" "No, I actually like most animals." Eli smile at your words. "Umm h-helo, I'm Matthias Czernin, you mind if I join you as well?" "Of course you may just us." "... Th-Thank you." Matthias sits next to Luca with a small smile. The food comes out & the five of you take almost the whole time.

After you finish eating, Victor says: "Oh yeah, do you want me to show you to your room? Mine is actually near your, and I need to grab something." "Ok." You follow him out of the dining room & up some stairs, down a long hallway. "Well, here's your room. Talk to you later, Y/N." "Later Victor." You close the door behind you & say to yourself: "He's Too Cute!" The next day, at breakfast, you eat with Luca Balsa, Matthias Czernin, Edgar Valden, Eli Clark & Tracy Reznik. "Oh, by the way Y/N, if you want or never to have sex, you can always come to me, cutie~, I'll be respectful." You almost choke on your water. "What the fuck Luca! You ok Y/N?" Matthias ask you. "*Cough* yeah, thanks Matthias." "So Y/N, have a crush on anyone yet?" Tracy ask. "They haven't even been here for 24 hours yet, I be very surprised if they do." Eli says. "Well, actually, I think I do, but I not telling you guys who it is." Really!?" Eli, Edgar & Matthias say as the same time. "Ok, fair enough." Tracy said. After breakfast, you decided to go outside for some fresh air. You see Victor sitting on the grass under a tree & walk over to him. Wick happily barks at you & Victor looks up at you. "Oh, hi Y/N! How are you?"

"I'm good, you mind if I sit with you?" "..no, go ahead." You sit a little way away from him. "Thank you." "No problem." He says. You two sit in awkward silence for a while & Wick had lied down in between the two of you. After a while, Wick gets up & shakes, then walks to the other side of Victor & jumps on him, causing his head to fall on your lap. "Aah W-Wick, w-why?" "You ok, Victor?" You ask him while petting Wick. "Y-yeah, are you?" "Yes." You don't look down at him, so you don't see just how scared he is, but you do feel him shaking, but decide not to ask him why. "o-ok Wick, get down boy." Wick get off Victor & he gets up & sits a little bit faster from you. Victor was acting more reserved around you after that incident. You decide to give him space for a while.

You're on your way to the dining room for dinner & you see Eli & Victor taking. "Hi Victor & Eli!" "Good evening, Y/N." Eli says. "..h-hi Y/N." "Victor, why don't you join me & Y/N for dinner?" Eli asked Victor "if he doesn't want to, he doesn't have to." You say. "I-I th-think I will." "Really!?" You say. "Y-yeah, lets go." Victor said while walking to the dining room. You are almost done eating when Victor wispers to you: "..h-hey Y/N, c-can we talk outside after this?" "Of course Victor." After dinner, you follow Victor outside. "Are you ok Victor?" Victor doesn't say anything for a while & Wick paws at him. After a while, he ask: "... y-you d-don't w-w-want t-to u-use m-me, d-do y-you?" Your eyes widened at his question. "...what, ..is that why you were shaking when you fell on me? No, Fuck No, I never.. Victor,... you didn't deserve-" "It's ok Y/N, I believe you." He turns to look at you & smiles. You stand there looking confused. "...Victor... are you sure you're okay?" "Hu?" His eyes widened at your question. "If you don't want to see me every again, I'll understand. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable around me-" "and that's why I wanted to talk with you. I now know you're not that type of person."

You started there, confused. ".. i-i think I need to sleep on all this." He walks over to you & pulls his hand on your shoulder. You look up at him. "It's an accident and misunderstanding. I'm not upset with you." "I get that, I do, but now I feel guilty for liking you, and I don't know what to do about it." He backs away from you a little. "...w-what?" Your eyes widen & cover your mouth after you realize what you just said. "Sh-Shit, S-Sorry V-Victor!" You say before running inside & to yours room. You plop on your bed & hug a pillow tightly & quickly start to cry. You're like this for an hour or so before you hear a knock at your door. You slowly get up & wipe the tires away & crake the door. ".. I know that I'm the last person you want to see right,but, .. I don't think you should be alone right now!" You hear Wick pawing to get in. "... I just want to make sure you don't try to hurt yourself... or worse." You open the door to let them in.

You walk back over to your bed & plop on it again. You feel him sit on your bed & Wick lay down right next to you. "...didn't want I say make you uncomfortable?" You ask him. You feel his hand gently rub your shoulder. "I just want to make sure you get sleep." You shiver from his tuch & words. "Sorry, did I scare you by touching you? I should have ask-" "you didn't scare me." You cut him off. "oh!?" Is all he said, continuing rubbing your shoulder. You two say stay like that for a long time. You feel Victor get up & try to grab Wick, but Wick walks to the other side of the bed. "Wick, we have to go." You just barely hear him wisper to Wick, but he just lays down on the other side of you. You feel him sit back down on your bed, but this time, Victor lays down next to you, your backs almost touching etchother. "Sorry Y/N, Good night!" You hear him wisper & you smile.

End!

It's 3:44am🫠

[katyspersonal]

If you get this, answer w/ three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs. anon or not, doesn’t matter, let’s get to know the person behind the blog!

Oh, nice chain! Alright, let's see!

1) I work at the post office! With customers, not as a postman! I am a little snarky but competent and super serious. Many customers that want to get into my window specifically. o_o" This is kind of time-consuming and not very rewarding, but it is really hard to find a better job in where I live. You know, the whole thing where companies only pretend to be hiring people and every interview is by default declined because they're content overworking their 2 workers doing work of 10 people? xD Fun thing: this is the THIRD time I am back at this workplace! Because they also keep trying to lessen their staff number to save money on salaries, but every time their business starts collapsing and they end up hiring again. They NEVER learn :/

(Lmao ffs I should just make this goddamn image my blog banner if this is the only punchline I know of 💀💀💀)

2) I bought PS4 specifically to be able to play Bloodb0rne! As good as I've gotten with lore and headcanons despite only "experiencing" the game via wikias and playthroughs, I NEEDED to lay my hands on it because asking all three of my friends for this or that screenshot became bothersome!

Bought it for half-price from a gamer that got PS5 and no longer needed PS4. Well.. Back then I could not have had an idea I'd end up getting into entire series, so now I know DeS is not accessible for me. Not sure if I can repeat this maneuver; not only PS5 costs more than I do myself, but also saving became impossible in where I live since then!

3) I've learned English 80% thanks to ask-blogging and RPing online! In fact, because of how much I am using English, at this point I am thinking on English more often than on my native language. I was pretty great in school English classes (best, actually), but the real turning point was having to go to English-speaking spaces for fandomry and RPing. I've just never found my place in Russian speaking fandoms, being a raging autist obsessed with every single canon detail is not common in them and makes people look at you like a looser that doesn't have """real""" life or """real""" hobbies if they act like this. :p So, when as a teen (16) I saw how much fun English-speaking fans had with fandoms here on Tumblr, I just HAD to try and level my English to be able to interact.

Granted, it is debatable whether local fandoms actually were never great, or it was my OWN bad luck of running into boring superfical level fans.. but I am glad that I've put my activity as a fan in this cursed hellsite, and ended up speaking English so fluently that many people are surprised it isn't my native one. xD

[ricekirpsees]

|| The Unfortunate Thing About Legacies: Chp 1 ||

Synopsis- Dear Student...

Notes- N/a

--------------------------------------

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a fifth-year student.

Term begins on 1 September.

Preliminary supplies have been collected for you and will accompany you on your journey to the castle.

As you may be aware, the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery prohibits the use of magic by those under the age of seventeen outside school. However, due to your unique circumstances, the Ministry has graciously agreed to allow Professor Eleazar Fig to help hone your spell-casting before escorting you from London to the castle for the start-of-term feast and the Sorting Ceremony.

Yours sincerely,

Professor Weasley 

Deputy Headmistress

---

What a surprise it was, the letter in her hand.

She was rather curious as to why the brown and white owl was following her all around the county of western Carmarthenshire. She merely thought the cute thing believed something of hers was prey. However, her assumption was refuted when she sat down beside the crumbled bricks of what was a wall for a quick rest.

The blue Welsh skies had shifted into the coloured warmth of the sunset when she finally decided to find a spot to settle in. She had just made it to the ruins of a castle that caught her wandering interest, spotting it a few hills back, set between lush greens, old trees, and shattered stones. And so she lay against the grass, nestled against the curve of ancient roots shrouded in moss.

It was a little too early in the afternoon to doze off and a little too exposed to set up a temporary camp. Instead, she let her mind wander, dream, and lightly touch on the days before her adventuring. She dreamt of seeing those odd creatures again and wondered about the blossoming hamlet close to the sea, relishing in the simple peace of the sleepy meadowlands. Then all too suddenly, her daydreams scattered. 

Startled, she quickly sat up feeling something plopped onto her lap. It couldn’t have been a leaf, it was far larger than the tree could have dropped. She picked it up and to her utter bewilderment, saw it was a letter. Tan and square, it was sealed with a luscious red wax stamped with a decorative H and an emblem with four creatures printed delicately on the flap.

Peering closer at the letter, she could just make out the words and begin to sound them out loud, "Hogwarts… Draco dor- dormi-ens nunquam ti… ti-till-andus."

Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.

Never tickle a sleeping dragon.

She snorted, amused. Someone must've dropped this, she thought with a small smile. Or at least, it might've been stolen by the wind. She looked around the darkening grasslands in hopes of catching someone nearby who could have lost the missive, possibly a postman, but it was just her and nature's awakening nightlife.

A gentle hoot from above caught her attention. She looked up to see the brown and white plumage of her little companion sitting on a branch, with large yellow eyes gazing down at her. Oh, and it seems he's here too. Her smile grew wider, delighted to see the owl again. 

"Well, hello sir, and good evening," She hummed lowly, to not scare him. Though he seemed comfortable, blinking slowly at her words. "It's very nice to see you again."

He blinked once more before turning his head and grooming his ruffled feathers.

She nods and turns back to the letter in your hands, "I'll leave you to it." 

A thought popped into her head and she flipped the note around. She’s been a good deal around the isle and the hamlets aren't at all big. She’s sure she’ll recognize the address and give it to the person missing their mail, she thinks as she skims through the green-inked delivery address. Wait… she pauses, fumbling over the written name.

It took a while for her to process. She had to reread the recipient's name over and over again because written on the envelope was her name.

But it couldn’t possibly be… Her brows furrowed, a trickle of fear seeping into her chest and she quickly moved to open the letter.

No one should know her. At least no one alive should know her, much less her name. Her whole life she’s been significantly distanced from human civilization, a vagabond. She was sure that she’d never caught the attention of someone or introduced herself anytime recently. Unfortunately, the piece of paper proved her hermit-ing was not as good as she thought it was.

Unfolding the last section of the paper, she began to read and with each word, realizations and discoveries were made. Once the last word had been read, she let the letter slip from her fingers and flutter back to her lap. And there it was, the surprise in her hands apparently delivered by her friend up in the tree. What was even better was the pocket full of confusion that came with it.

She leaned her back against the tree and attempted to come to terms with the contents of the letter, fiddling with the rough bark of the roots and listening to the tittering of the owl above. 

There was a school. A school of witchcraft and wizardry. It's called Hogwarts and she supposedly was enrolled to join. Now she’s accepted and a man by the name of Eleazar Fig will be helping her "hone her spell-crafting". She winced at her summary, finding it a tad unbelievable. How… far fetched. 

She shakes her head, dismissing the school from her thoughts as best as she can and ignoring the bubbling curiosity that had begun to boil from within. She must stay focused on the more pressing matter of an institute knowing who she was. For her safety.

But, she confesses, she's never been to a proper school, having only ever seen them from a distance, but she knows her basics; reading, writing, and math. She thinks she’s rather decent at it.

And it's a rather strange name, maybe the witchcraft and wizardry part is a metaphor.

A sudden crack echoing from the side had her whipping her head around and leaping up from her seat. She turns towards the direction, tense and ready to run if need be, only to come face to face with an odd sight. There stood an old man dressed in odd blue robes lined with gold holding an unnaturally straight stick in one hand and a leather bag in the other. 

She watched in fearful surprise as he stumbled a bit, barely catching his footing before straightening up. She squinted. How strange, he seemed to have just appeared out of nowhere! She quickly scanned the forest wondering where on earth he came from, as the man dusted his sleeves off with a pleased hum. 

Though his back was facing her, she could see his contentment turn to displeasure as he let out a groan, his shoulders dropping. Shaking his head he turned around only to pause when he saw the figure behind him.

Once he seemed to, unfortunately, recognize who she was, the man's face lit up with relief, "Ah! There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you existed at all! Though I suppose a Welsh meadow is not exactly specific, it's very lovely to finally meet you. I am Professor Eleazar Fig."

She merely stayed silent, perplexed by a sudden appearance and social interaction being thrown right at you, like a skipping stone to a fish. A moment of quiet passed but the man didn't seem too fazed as he began to talk again.

"And I presume you are our new student?" Professor Fig asked, holding out a hand, a pleasant smile dawning on his face.

She tensed and eyed the man’s hand. With a hop of courage, she spoke, “Uh, no, sir…” You replied, darting her gaze to meet his, “Unfortunately I must inform you that there has been a mistake in your… system. I shouldn’t be going to your school or anyone’s school for that matter…”

That seemed to have baffled the man and Professor Fig let out a breathless laugh, “A mistake? I can assure you there have been no mistakes, as there can be no mistakes.” He then gestured to the letter, “May I?”

She nodded tersely and handed it over. He gently took it from her grasp and began to read while she took a step back farther from the stranger for a comforting distance.

“Ah see? No mistakes.” He smiled, finding what he needed from the paper, "Now, there are plenty of things to discuss and plenty of things to do." He adjusted his grip on the bag, "Is your guardian nearby?"

"But there must have been one, sir," she argued, ignoring the strange question. "A misspelling or- or the wrong address."

"I can assure you, young one, that the quill makes no errors," The man said kindly, a gentle look on his face, "And if so the book will not allow one to pass on to a letter."

Despite the calming voice of the stranger, it only made her more confused and a tad bit miffed. It was like he was speaking in tongues! Never straightforward, are all humans like this?

With furrowed brows, she grumbled, "What does a book and quill have to do with errors? I'm saying whoever is in charge made a mailing mistake and the letter was placed in the wrong hands. My hands. Now it is in yours and can be delivered to the right person."

She repressed the urge to roll her eyes, settling for flexing your hand. How irritating it was to have to spell it out. 

"So, you are indeed not Miss (Y/n) (L/n), residing beside the castle ruins of Caldicot, Wales, beneath the great ash tree of 300 years pass?" The man inquired lightly, clasping his hands together in front of him.

She blinked, shifting her widened eyes to him. "Well, yes. That is me, but…"

He held up a hand and said, "I must apologize, I was under the impression you were aware of our world. Allow me to give a proper and appropriate introduction." Placing the bag down, he gave a crooked bow, "I am Eleazar Fig, a professor at Hogwarts, a school for wizardkind and magic alike and I have been tasked with mentoring you in preparation for your fifth year at Hogwarts."

"Wizardkind…?" She muttered, "You mean staffs and potions wizardkind?"

Professor Fig nodded with closed eyes, "Yes, though I must say the majority of us prefer the familiarity of the wand." 

Ah, so it wasn't a metaphor.

He opened his eyes and soon after an earnest look replaced his calm, "And you, my child, are a witch."

She couldn't help the laugh of disbelief that burst from her lips, "Ha! No- no, I am no witch, but it certainly does give clarity to some mysteries I've seen flying about." She eyed the owl, who seemed to be closer than before.

"Well of course you are a witch. You see them don't you?" Professor Fig gestured to the ancient tree behind her.

Them? She narrowed her eyes at the man and turned around to face it, noting some strange little bugs that scampered about along the branches. Taking a closer look you see that they weren't bugs at all, but rather the sentient green sticks with a leaf or two upon their bodies she's seen before in another tree. Luckily, these seemed much more friendly than previous encounters were with the few who noticed her, curiously watching from afar.

"Strange little things aren't they? And quite cute," she hummed, turning back to Fig, "but I'm not sure what looking at them has to do with being a witch." 

One particular creature dared to get closer, inching its way over to her with a tilted head. She copied the little leaf, tilting her head as it crept closer down the branch’s tip and up to her face. 

From behind her, she hears Professor Fig speak up, "It has to do with everything, for muggles– non-magics– are unable to see magical beasts such as the bowtruckle, the creatures inhabiting that tree."

"Oh…" she mumbled, the bowtruckle reaching up a little twiggy arm and patting her cheek.

Satisfied with the encounter, it turned back around and climbed back up to its friends sitting higher up in the tree. In turn, she looked back towards Professor Fig who now held the bag once more.

“So, I am a witch… and you are here to tutor me.” she says, sceptically, “But why was I admitted so late as you and the letter have told quite prominently?”

Taking a deep breath, Professor Fig replied, “That, my dear, is a mystery of ours. Unfortunately, I have not been informed much, merely that I have been requested to help you assimilate, and even then, information on yourself was scarce.” He seemed hesitant to continue, but nevertheless asked, “… And I can assume it is just you?”

She nods. She hoped he wouldn’t ask any more questions. She didn’t want to explain things to a stranger.

But he just sighs and offers her a smile, “Come, there is much to teach and a whole new world of possibilities for you.” 

Professor Fig offered out a hand for her to take and just as before she eyed it with distrust, but a part of her, that little voice of hope, was just enough for her to take it. With a warm hold, they walk together for a moment, just a little farther from the great ash tree as he takes out his wand, and with one swish, the two of them disappear from the ruins. Nothing but a whisper left.

The owl cocks his head, before spreading his grand wings, and with one giant beat, he lifts off. Gliding over the forest and into the night sky, he heads home, hoping to see the new student soon.

---

The summer had passed in what felt like moments and yet in forever. It was an extreme transition for her from wandering lonely, away from people to now temporarily living at Rotherly’s Hotel in London, a hotel for wizards and witches alike away from Muggles. 

It was an amazing place and the rooms were grand filled with enchanted items, sweeping, washing, and folding themselves. But everything was grand to her as, apparently, this was common in the Wizarding world as Professor Fig had explained, amused.

Professor Fig was a great teacher, kind patient, and fun. He had no qualms about spending nearly most of the season explaining the workings of the Wizard world and how they lived. Some things sounded vaguely familiar to her, as she believed she might’ve seen a few examples from her travels. Unfortunately, her millions of questions left not much time for the actual schoolwork and she only has recently started to work with a wand.

Less than two months isn’t a lot of time to learn about a whole new magical world. But she did receive a second-hand wand at the beginning and it was quite a surprise when she felt it the moment she touched the handle. It was as if there was a presence within the wand, a being or something somewhat conscious. And, at best, it tolerated her.

Honestly, maybe that was the other reason why she was now starting to do wands work. Even at the moment, as she packed her spare items into a knapsack, she could feel the brown-wood wand wish ill on her person; to at least have you trip and hurt her leg. It was a very fussy piece of wood.

And of course, she hasn’t told Professor Fig, who now knocked on the room’s sturdy door. She didn’t want to trouble him over a bad relationship. Setting in the last item of clothing, she swings on the sack that would very soon become her bookbag and open the door with a smile to see her mentor.

“Good evening, a leanbh, are you set to go?” He greeted with a nod.

“Yes, Professor.” She said, fidgeting with her coat sleeves.

“Good, good! And how are you feeling?” Professor Fig asked as they began to walk down the lamp-lit hall. She was careful not to step too loudly on the noisy floor despite the thin decorated carpets that lined the steps.

Tilting her head, she considered how she felt at the moment and decided, “Feeling alright and a little tired, sir.” 

He chuckled, “It is quite late. The carriage is just in the back alley with all of your school materials. Down this way.” 

They made it to the stairs of the building and stumbled their way down the flights of steep steps. She was relieved once she made it to the first floor, certain she was going to roll her ankle at least once. 

Once grounded, rather than turning left towards the lobby, Professor Fig led her out the backway on the right. It was even darker than the hall but half as long and soon they made it out into the brisk London night.

And there it was, a carriage piled with precariously stacked luggage and a familiar owl preening its feathers. But what truly caught her attention was the six dark, strange, bat-winged beasts that stood restlessly at the front of the carriage. They looked like skeletal equines, but their faces did not resemble those of a horse. Rather, it looked like a beaked reptilian adorned with two stubby horns. And they looked absolutely beautiful.

Professor Fig went to check on the luggage, greeting the coachman. And she, utterly enchanted, gently walked up to the beasts, keeping her posture low so as to not startle the gorgeous creatures, though they didn’t seem to mind her presence. A few turned their heads over to look at her, curious of the new person coming close and once they deemed her harmless, shook their heads, or stretched their wings. 

“Amazing, innit?” A voice asked.

Startled out of her trance, she looked up towards the coachman who wore an odd pair of goggles and a grin.

“It’s a carriage pulled by nothing too most wizardkind. But I got these things to see what others can’t.” He seemed to gloat, gesturing to the goggles.

She furrowed her brows, confused as to what the man was talking about, and turned to face the creatures once more. Pulled by nothing? She couldn’t help but ask, “What do you mean?”

“Exactly!” And he burst into a fit of roaring laughter.

Even more confused and a tad bit worried for the man, she backed up from the driver’s seat and closer to Professor Fig, who came back from the luggage end with a smile.

“Ah! It appears we are almost ready to depart,” He informed you, walking over to where she was standing. “It’s a pity we didn’t have a bit more time to spend on spell-casting. I presume you’ve been practising the spells we worked on.”

Oh, yes, that. The reason for such annoyance. She only got to touch upon the most basic of basics and that was all that she could practice in the alleyways. She believed that’s the reason the wand was so mad today. 

“I have, Professor.” she said and lifted the ever-so-angry stick.

“Well, I’m quite sure I’ve never seen anyone take so quickly to a second-hand wand,” Professor Fig remarked, looking quite proud, “You’ll be a force to be reckoned with when you get your own.”

What a compliment that was, having only been introduced to this world in less than two months and yet having such potential that a well-rounded educator comments on it.

Flattered, she beamed, “Thank you, Professor Fig. I… appreciate your working with me before the term begi-”

A familiar cracking pop rang out and a well-dressed man appeared, facing away from the two of them. With a quick turn, he found two pairs of eyes gazing at him, one with familiarity and the other in dulled confusion, and exclaimed, “Oh! Eleazar!”

“George!” Professor Fig happily greeted him before giving her a hushed introduction, “An old friend.” Turning back to the man in glasses, he continued, “Glad my rather cryptic description of our location did not thwart your finding us.”

“I’ve apparated to more vaguely defined destinations than this.” George chuckles as he walks closer, “Though, I confess I may have miscalculated slightly on my first try. Gaver quite the fright to some theatre-goers in the West End.” He gave a friendly wink to her and she smiled back awkwardly.

Professor Fig laughed along, “It’s been much too long. When I received your owl. I must say I-”

“Uh- Best not to speak here, Eleazar, hm?” George quickly interrupted his friend, an odd look darting across his face.

The air chilled and she and Fig shared a glance. 

Clearing his throat, Professor Fig nodded, “Of course. Why don’t we speak en route to Hogwarts? We have a start-of-term feast and a Sorting Ceremony to get to.”

“Wonderful idea. As long as your young charge here doesn’t mind me tagging along.” George asked, his cheerful grin returning.

“Not at all, sir,” she quickly responded.

Professor Fig gleamed a smile at you as he opened the carriage door, stepping aside for her to crawl in, “After you.”

As she made her way into the carriage, George looked toward Professor Fig with a nostalgic glaze and a light chuckle.

“Ages since I’ve been to the castle. Would be good to see the old pile of rocks,” He mused, helping Professor Fig in with a hand. 

Just as he makes his way in, he gives one last glance to the midnight London street with that odd look returning before hopping in and giving the signal to the driver, shutting the door.

The reins whip and the carriage takes off, and the shadowed figure watches it in the darkness before disappearing in a hazy twist.

-------------------------------------

Notes- I refuse to believe the Wizarding World is this woke in 1892, they literally had blood supremacy in the 1990s

[thebeckster]

Kiss prompt #35 for Wayne/Kasumi or Frank/Miranda

Thanks for playing along! I had to do Frank/Miranda for an awkward kiss after a first date. I love those two and I wish the game did a little more with their relationship.

(Did maybe something experimental and did no dialogue with this one. Idk why it just started working out that way)

💋💋💋💋

It had been a lovely afternoon. There was at least that. If nothing else came from this day, at least there would be memories of a lovely afternoon spent in good company.

Miranda had long given up on the thought of Frank taking a fancy to her. After years of friendship, of singing and playing together, of professional partnership, of dropping hints that never got picked up, Miranda just had to accept that Frank was not interested. Whether he was disinterested in relationships in general or just in a relationship with her, she couldn’t say for certain. But she had stopped holding her breath for invitations to dinner or drinks at the bar.

But then Frank’s niece had moved in and in the process of settling into her own farm and life she’d shaken up a number of things in town. She’d revivified their sleepy little town, helping complete projects that had long been abandoned. She’d brought friends closer together and helped forge new friendships all up and down the mountain.

Miranda suspected she had Frank’s niece to thank in part for encouraging him to work up the nerve to ask her out. She’d also caught the farmer receiving pep talks from Wayne a couple of times, so the postman probably had some hand in it as well.

Still, the invitation had come to Miranda as quite a surprise. It was a quiet afternoon in the general store, Frank had ducked in to chat while he waited out a passing summer rainstorm. They’d shared the usual pleasantries and small talk until Frank took his hat in his hands, fidgeting with the brim as he stuttered out his desire to go on a picnic with Miranda.

There had been some back and forth as Miranda tried to probe out if this was a friendly picnic and Noel was expected to join, or something meant for just the two of them. Frank took a minute to admit it was meant as a date, but Miranda accepted instantly.

On her next day off, Miranda sent Noel off to play at Colin’s until dinner time, she’d put on a nice sundress, and made sure to prepare her contribution to the picnic. Frank had insisted he would take care of everything, but Miranda insisted she bring the lemonade and some fresh-baked cookies. Frank arrived promptly at one with a large basket tucked into the crook of one arm, wearing what looked like a new shirt. It was nice on him.

They walked together through town and then out heading off towards the waterfall. It was the height of summer, a beautiful day where occasional fluffy clouds crossed the clear blue sky. The greenery near the riverside was lush, flowers bloomed in abundance, birds sang in the brush and trees overhead, and when the wind shifted the cool mist of the falls blew over them, providing a moment of refreshment from the summer heat. The picnic was a lovely feast, if simple fare. Sandwiches and chips, fresh fruits and vegetables, sweet cookies, all paired wonderfully with the cool lemonade.

Their time spent together was lovely as well. The afternoon passed in easy conversation and light laughter. They treaded familiar topics, testing the waters of what this might become before they broached more serious matters. It was a first date, after all, not a marriage proposal.

As the afternoon began to turn to evening, they packed up their picnic, both Frank and Miranda had chores to do. The afternoon had been pleasant, but there was real life to get back to. Still, Miranda would very much like to have another pleasant afternoon like this.

Frank escorted Miranda back to her store. They paused on the sidewalk outside her door, lingering over a goodbye, over how to say it. It was Miranda’s turn to be brave.

She leaned in slowly, giving Frank the chance to pull back if he wanted to, and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. He was clearly stunned by the kiss, freezing up beneath her, so Miranda didn’t linger. She looked into his eyes as she stepped back, he was surprised, but pleasantly so.

Miranda smiled and winked, and then turned for her door, promising Frank she’d see him tomorrow.

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

When all you want is a Scottish Romance, but a different dream is delivered ...

Part of the book title (no copyright infringement intended)

The following has been going on for years: My mother sees a book in a catalogue or in a newspaper ad. She tells me about it and says she will order it. But as she is very busy, she forgets about it and the desire to read this or that book never materialises.

When I realised this, I started writing down the titles of the books she mentioned. Eventually, I started ordering those titles from my online bookseller. I love my online bookseller because it is very reliable and the staff try to fulfil all the customers' wishes. What's more, for a small surcharge on the price of the book, you can have it wrapped in beautiful paper and accompanied by a greeting card with a personal message. Over the years, I have been able to surprise my mother with several books in this way. Having read with interest popular science books about dogs, ravens and squirrels, as well as books on current political issues, she wanted "just something to relax" after her serious illness in the winter of 22/23. She told me she had seen a book called "The Little Knitting Shop in the Scottish Highlands" ("Home is where the wool is!"). My mum has been a passionate knitter all her life. "The book also contains three knitting patterns!" Ah yes! I got the message and … had the first book in the series delivered to her.

She loved it. I then ordered Volume 2 ("Winter Tea in the Little Knitting Shop in the Scottish Highlands") and - a month later - Volume 3 ("New Happiness in the Little Knitting Shop in the Scottish Highlands") for Christmas. My mum was delighted, she liked the third book even more than the previous ones. A few weeks ago, she complained about the bad weather and said it was getting on her nerves. So I ordered volume 4 of the series to cheer her up a bit. When I rang her a few days later, we had the following conversation:

M: "Ah, good of you to call. The postman has just brought the parcel from the bookshop! I'll unpack it right away!"

(In the background) A parcel is opened, and paper rustles.

M: "Oh, so nicely wrapped again!"

(More rustling in the background)

M: "Oh, and such a nice card. Thank you so much! But now I'm really looking forward to the book …"

(Again, more rustling in the background …. then silence)

I: "Mum?"

Silence.

I: "Mum? Is everything all right?"

M: "Er, yes, but … what should I do with this book?"

I: (Silence and wonder) "What does she mean?

M: "The parcel contained a book with the title 'Three Women Dreamed of Socialism'. What should I do with it? Why are you sending me this?"

I: (Gathering all my strength not to laugh out loud): "Mum, I didn't order a book like that for you."

M: "What did you order?"

I: "Volume 4 of your series: 'New Beginnings in the Little Knitting Shop in the Scottish Highlands'!"

M: "No, that didn't come. Unfortunately not. This book might be interesting too .... but ... I never dreamed of socialism." I: (Gathering all my strength not to laugh out loud again, because my mum worked as a banker): "I know mum. I know."

I then called the bookshop and of course, we were able to exchange the book without any major problems. I had to control myself all the time not to laugh out loud again because I always tried to imagine what kind of face the customer must have made who ordered 'Three Women Dreamed of Socialism' and instead received Volume 4 of a Scottish Romance :)

P.S.: "Drei Frauen träumten vom Sozialismus" is a book about three of the great female writers of the former GDR (Maxie Wander, Brigitte Reimann, Christa Wolf). It tells the story of how these women dealt with the promise of a socialist society and how they had to reorient themselves when these dreams were shattered with the collapse of the GDR.

[monty-glasses-roxy]

If Meteors Roxy becomes pen pals with the kids on the school bus, Cassie gets to play the part of postman. It was weird to her at first, but there's a satisfaction to it she didn't expect. She cuts a hole into a shoebox, paints it a shiny red and sets it up on her desk so anyone in her class can post mail to Roxy and she can post back. It's gotten to the point where Cassie hops on the school bus and a group of kids get excited cause either they have something for Roxy, or might be getting something back from Roxy. She's offput at how she's gaining popularity purely because of this, and there's definitely a few story arcs in there for her, but on a lighthearted note?

The postbox idea sticks, and Cassie gets to convince her dad to put postboxes on her and Roxy's bedroom doors so they can post stuff to each other for funsies. They invite each other to sleepovers and leave random surprises each other in there, it's a little bit of fun! It's also a more organised way to get stuff to and from kids at Cassie's school, cause Roxy can finish a response and post it in Cassie's box whenever she wants and Cassie has a set place to put anything from the school kids where Roxy can find it.

This becomes even more important, when one of them has a bad day, and really doesn't want to see anyone. They can post food in little containers and things they hope might help them feel better, without having to actively talk to each other, or convince them to open the door.

Cassie can then manage to convince Eddie to give himself a postbox too and now they use it to mess with him and to confide in or confess to him things that they don't have the courage to say to his face. They mostly mess with him though. It's fun. And in return? He plays the occasional trick as payback, but also takes to posting them extra treats and notes of encouragement and affection. Also little bottles of fruit juice because he worries :(

Yeah, this was all Cassie's idea and she's super proud of it! It's fun, useful, and she gets to play the part of Postmaster and make sure that everything goes where it's supposed to. She even gets the mail delivered to the house and posts it mostly into her dad's letterbox so he knows where it is. She's developed her own type of stamp too, which is, of course, a nice and glittery sticker in the corner of what she's posting.

And I've just had the thought that she could set up a mini-post office in the ruined Plex and have the Minis be her little delivery spiders... She wouldn't have to run that one, she could just help whenever she's around. The Minis are more than capable, because of course they are! Cassie taught them everything she knows!

[libertys-lovers]

postman here! it seems you've received an important invitation. It is in a very pretty envelope and it smells nice... anyway, here you have it, have a nice day!

"Dear Libs,

Even though Shinobu hasn't verbally said this yet, we miss you a lot around here. I know your current adventure is very important and we support you fully, so we'd like to celebrate when you come back to show you how valuable your presence is here. It'll be around next week, right? I can't wait to make some decorations! I promise everything will turn out great, but I can't tell you everything yet because Shinobu wants to keep it as a surprise. That means you have to come back! We'll be waiting for you with our arms open!

Hugs,

Mitsuri <3"

-@platonic-qpr-selfshipping

WAH-!!!!

*a woman sits within her hidden abode, her freshly received envelope staring at her from the corner of her eye. a response letter of her own is in progress, the sickly-sweet smell of wisteria absorbing into the page.*

“Dear Mitsuri,

Geeze, I guess it has been a while, hasn’t it? Time sure does pass by quick; too quick, I’d say! I’m glad y’all understand how… intense it’s been. But at least I’m still kickin’, right? Haha!

But man, you lot spoil me too much… and I appreciate every second of it. I’ll be back as soon as I can… though I guess I can take a little while; I’d hate to make y’all feel rushed for something you don’t even have to do! Rest assured, I will get my revenge though. I’ll find something to give y’all on my way back, I’m sure! But really, don’t hurry for anything! Y’all’s existence is enough of a reward for me getting back!

Seeing you soon,

Libs”

—

AKA OH MY GOOD LORD I’M GOING TO S O B-!!!!

Thank you so much 🥺🥺😭😭💘💕💞💞🥺💝💝💞💞💗💘💘💖💞💖💞💝💘💝💘💝💞 This made me ascend so hard my head got stuck in the ceiling, fr fr 🥺🙏

[just-another-wren]

A turtle in a postman's outfit runs up to you, holding out a cookie. "Hello Wren! It's me, the camp postman, here to give you a special surprise! It seems Ally here has sent you a cookie gram. How nice of them! They look like just normal chocolate chip cookies to me with nothing weird in them, so I'll just leave these here. Enjoy!"

Mikey from cabin 15 loves the idea of cookie grams and thinks it's sweet Ally sent you one! Chocolate chip cookies are delicious. He's glad there's nothing weird in them. Like garlic. Or peppers.

Amazing art by @cadoodledoodleydoo

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion

(my self insert/sona is named Kadeen<3)

"Now, where on earth- oh, hello!"

Kadeen’s a little surprised by the Michelangelo's appearance, but it quickly fades. "Oh, that's incredibly kind, thank you! Gods know I need something nice with the pranks people will be pulling today..."

The elf-like counselor waves as the Post-Mikey scurries away. They teleport a bottle of water from somewhere- most likely from their bag in the counselors cabin- and take a bite of the cookie. They almost immediately yelp, throwing both the cookie and the waterbottle onto the beach.

"GAH Whatthefuck- they used the ghost pepper chocolate?? Did NOBODY from my AU mention my low-ass spice tolerance?! Forget that."

(Time seems to go in reverse for a moment...)

Kadeen watches as the Postman-Mikey runs up, taking the cookie with a smile. "Thank you, that's really sweet of you! Gods know I need something nice with all these pranks."

The Mikey scurries away, and the scarred counselor drops their smile- throwing the spicy cookie into the beaches waters. "Yeah no, Ally wouldn't have made that. They're a counselor too- they know better..."

Kadeen shakes their head, continuing to look along the beach, squinting from their lack of glasses.

[strawberry-writings]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚Joy˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

☆*♡¡~𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐑~¡♡*☆

♡ Vera nair paired with a child!you ♡

~fluff, platonic...

{♡} Today the survivor's would be meeting a new survivor, there isn't much information on the certain survivor but all they know is that they're quite young. But that wouldn't stop Vera's morning routine.

She made sure to brush her teeth with toothpaste and a toothbrush, take a morning bath, and prepare herself for the day. She was assigned a match today so she would unfortunately have to go to battle.

She went with her signature red lipstick and black mascara, the beauty mark on her face isn't exactly too prominent so she used eyeliner to highlight it. Vera wore her basic clothing which was purple at the most, it was her favorite color.

Vera stepped out of her room and went to eat breakfast she normally ate a crossiant, and that's what she did. She simply ate a crossiant and drank some tea, but she would have to eat a lot more for dinner as she would need that energy. During matches you basically have to run from cipher to cipher, run while kiting the hunter, and run to rescue the others.

She would have to eat more to stay energized, the match was scheduled at 10:50am daytime but everyone heard Ms. Dyer speak to someone. They speculated that it was the new survivor and a certain individual, Mike Morton was good at making friends so maybe he would become friends with the new survivor.

The doctor came into the room with a child.

"(name) you'll be staying here from now on, and make sure to always tell me when you need help or something else."

Emily smiled at the young child, a bunch of survivors sat at the dinner table in shock because what was another child doing at this terrible manor? The Little girl in the manor also known as Memory approached the other child, she smiled and introduced herself.

"Hi! My name's Memory what's your name?"

(name) answered.

"My name is (name) it's nice to meet you Memory.."

The blonde little girl grabbed her hand and approached each survivor in the dinner room one by one. She eventually approached Vera, and pointed at her while saying

"This is The perfumer Vera nair and she's a container! She has also amazing taste in fashion!"

Vera looked down at the two children standing infront of her she decided to wave at (name) and Memory. (name) gave Vera a polite smile, but Vera was pondering about something else so she didn't notice.

A few hour's passed and Vera carefully walked to the matching room and to her surprise she saw the new survivor with The postman and The mechanic wearing her candy girl costume. The hunter was the Bloody queen also known as Mary.

Poor (name) looked quite anxious and scared for her first match, Vera swore deep down to protect her as she didn't want her to get injured by the hunter. She planned to take the first kite.

As everything went black Vera saw a familiar map called Leo's memory but it was rather more of a dawn outside, Vera ran carefully to the factory and began decoding. She saw (name) struggling with decoding so she decided to help, and she began decoding with (name).

(name) unfortunately got too frustrated and started crying a bit. Vera got down to her height and started comforting her, she tried her best to cheer (name) up.

After comforting the child they gave The perfumer a smile full of joy, but both their heartbeats increased which was a sign that the hunter was nearby. The Bloody queen entered the factory and gave them a smile, Tracy followed after Mary and seemed to be having a good time.

Vera immediately knew that the hunter was friendly and carefully took (name) to Mary and explained that she was being friendly. The Bloody queen showed her abilites and summoned her aqua mirror, everyone could see Mary's reflection and it soon disappeared.

They all went outside together and started having a snowball battle, Vera let (name) win and Tracy got hit by Mary's snowball. It was only (name) and Mary left.

"Oh nooooo! I'm doomed!"

Mary said faking a dramatic voice before feeling a cold sensation on her face. (name) had won the snowball battle and she gave everyone a smile full of joy and happiness, it was the smile Vera had while she was still with her dead sister.

Vera's real name isn't Vera its actually Chloé Nair, she murdered her sister because she supposedly plagiarized her work in perfumery, but that wasn't her twin sister's real intentions. Chloé still feels the immense amount of guilt till this day.

The match ended as The Bloody queen surrendered, and while going back to the manor The postman wasn't seen during the match. He was considered introverted and quiet and liked to communicate with animals.

Tracy, Vera, and (name) laughed and smiled on their way back from the match, it was truly a moment of Joy.

♡~

[mirclealignr]

home for christmas | r.l

remus lupin x reader

requested by anon where the reader visits their hometown at xmas, and runs into their estranged childhood friend, remus.

warnings; no pronouns used, mentions of food, fluff!

word count; 1300+

to be notified when I post, follow @mirclesjournal

It had been an age since you’d returned to the town in which you were born. Your grandparents still resided there, reluctant to move away, even if their neighbours were no longer the nicest of folk. And this Christmas, they had insisted you were to come to them for once, a request which your parents could not refuse. You weren’t so bothered either, thinking it might be nice to walk the streets you used to as a child, and peer into the windows of your old house.

One thing you had not expected too see upon arriving in your hometown, was someone (besides your family) you recognised from a lifetime gone by. But as it so happened, your old childhood friend was just across the street, oblivious to your bewildered stare. Remus Lupin and you were once inseparable, two children so akin that nothing could tear them apart, not even anything from their wildest dreams. You still thought of him, more frequently than you cared to admit, wondering how he was getting on and what kind of life he was living. You always thought him destined for great things.

But it seemed childhood loves could be quite easily torn apart, for children have little control over their own lives and little knowledge of the world around them that cared little for the wants and wishes of its inhabitants. When your parents informed you of the distance that was to separate you from Remus, neither of you would comprehend the toll it would take on your friendship. Of course, you promised to write everyday and convince your parents of weekend trips, but as it so happened, you never once received a letter from him.

For days you sat by the front door, wishing and hoping that a letter from Remus would appear on the floor beside you. Yet each envelope that fell through the door did not display his handwriting, nor his mother’s. The postman began to notice your sadness deepening, and even gifted you a lollipop one morning. But the temporary happiness would not distract you from your friend slipping away and the realisation that there wasn’t anything you could do to get him back. After that day, all your anger was poured into a heated letter, stamped with vigour and launched into the postbox beside your new house, and you never wrote to him again, nor did you ever receive a reply.

Now staring at him in the flesh, you almost let him walk away, disappear around the corner with all the answers you’d waited years to hear. They were answers only he had and that only he could give to you. Even after all those years and the making of new friends, Remus had always lingered in the back of your mind. Perhaps it was because of the crush you’d had on him and the type of fondness that came with it, but even without it, he was the best friend you’d ever had, and it hurt that he broke his promise. It might have been easier to bear had the friendship fizzled naturally under the burden of distance, but the abruptness stung more painfully than the dull ache of time.

“Remus! Is that you?” you called out to him–he looked rather taken aback, though you weren’t surprised. You were probably the last person he ever thought to run into on the street.

“I can’t believe it,” you continued, crossing the street so you didn’t have to shout over the road and draw attention.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he asked with a surprised smile.

He had grown up handsome, as you were sure he would. His old and tattered jumper hung over his slender frame, engulfing him rather endearingly. His wooly hat covered his hair but for a few wisps, and his cheeks were stained pink in the winter chill. But he was well dressed, well mannered and irritatingly just as he always was. You hoped maybe he’d turned into some criminal, that way there’d be an easy explanation for the pain he had caused you.

“Here for Christmas, my grandparents never moved away,” you laughed, watching his eyes survey you.

“You look great,” he complimented, “It’s been so long since I last saw you.”

“Well it needn’t have been, all you had to do was write,” you scoffed, trying to hide your festered anger with humour, though he did not find it very funny.

“I did write,” he replied solemnly, “I wrote nearly every day. That was until I received a rather angry letter from you telling me you never wanted to see or hear from me again,” he furrowed his brows and crossed his arms, defending himself as he thought he should.

He too was hurt by the crumbling of your friendship. He’d no idea what he did wrong, and that letter broke his heart. He was about to post another when it came through the letterbox as he reached the door, but he left it in his room as he cried over the lines you’d written in such anger.

“No you didn’t! I never got any letter, that’s why I wrote what I did. I was angry and upset, but I probably didn’t mean half the things I wrote. I reckon I’d cringe to read it now,” you winced, thinking of your childish fury.

“Still got it,” he scoffed, “And the last one I wrote you, but I never posted it,” he sighed, looking down to the book he’d tucked under his arm when he began conversing with you.

He took the book and opened it to the page he’d been reading last, revealing a very old envelope with childish scrawls across the front. It was crumpled in places and most of the corners were folded over, but your name was clear as day at the top. He rubbed his fingers over it before folding the corner of his page in the book so he didn’t lose his place.

“Here,” he said, offering the letter to you.

It was an unbelievable thought that he’d kept it so long, and so close to him too, somewhere he’d see it all the time and be reminded of you, perhaps with feelings of bitterness, or perhaps not. You were anxious to read it, words written so long ago. You were two different people now, maybe not even compatible for friendship. Perhaps the words would seem foreign to your aged eyes and matured brain. Perhaps it should be read by the heart, for that had barely changed, especially when it came to Remus, a boy you thought would remain only in memory.

“Rem!” you gasped, “This address is awfully wrong,” you laughed, tears of relief forming in your eyes, “This must be two towns over from where I live.”

“What? But that's the address I wrote on all your letters!” he cried, taking the letter from you and reading the address, “The very same!” he concluded.

“Well no wonder I never got your letters. I take it I owe you an apology,” you laughed, wrapping your arms around him tightly, an embrace that had been so longed for for years that you couldn not stop yourself from initiating it.

Remus was startled at first by the gesture, but his arms quickly fell into place as he hugged you tightly. The two of you were trying desperately to reshape your memories with the new information bestowed upon you, which meant neither of you were the villain of the story. Neither of you wanted to let go, but as you pulled away from him and his warmth, you smiled brightly, to which he felt inclined to return.

“I’ll buy you a coffee, maybe even a Christmas cookie, if you want,” you giggled, “And then maybe we could catch up?” you asked nervously.

“I’d love that,” beamed Remus, falling in line with you on the pavement, venturing to reach for your hand, only for you to close the distance and hold on as tightly as him.