#skip broke jr

[lodgersims]

After school, Dustin brought Angela home, which means he finally worked up the courage to have that first kiss.

Meanwhile, Beau brought home a boy named Daniel from Desiderata Valley. But despite the image, they don't really get along very well. But I'm sure they'll work it out eventually.

And thar night was Skip's birthday party! Now a toddler (and I'll admit, I'm not used to him being blonde), Skip had a pretty good time, and Dustin actually showed up for this party... which Beau is trying not to be jealous about.

Darren was there too, and he's been getting to know the kids. Brandi hopes they'll approve of him (which, so far, Beau seems to... but Dustin has pointed out that Beau never really knew Dad, did he?)

Plus, it's a little awkward. If Darren does end up becoming his stepdad, that makes Dirk his stepbrother, which will take some getting used to. What do you do when your friend suddenly becomes your stepbrother?

Well, Dustin will have to wait and see.

[lunetaj]

The new house is finally built and the Cordials can move in.

Brandi is extremely grateful to her friends for what they have done for her and her children.

What will it be like to start living a new life, moreover, without Skip?

(2016)

[kevinvoncrastenburg]

Uberhood (120) - Baldwin & Broke, Dustin

My Sims 2 Uberhood is alive and breathing. 😉 I started a new round a few weeks ago, but don't expect too many posts for now. I'm still very occupied with TS3, but every now and then it's a relaxing alternation to play some good old Sims 2. Elijah Baldwin celebrated his birthday and turned into a teenager. I calculated his personality and interest points and came to the result that he's a pleasure/ romance aspiration sim. 🎈

Dustin spent some time with his brothers and neighbors. 🌭

Aaaand burglar Russ Bear struck again. <.<

[simstorian]

The residents of my version of Bedrock Strait in Oasis Springs!

"Residents of this delightfully kitschy neighborhood take pride in their billboards and lawn gnomes. And who wouldn't love getting to say hello to Barry the Brontosaurus every morning?"

From top left to bottom right:

Living in a van at Sandtrap Flat trying to make it as a comedian after being disowned by the Landgraabs, Johnny Zest.

Brandy Broke wanted a change of scenery after the drama and trauma of Pleasantview, so the Broke family moved to a mobile home at Pebble Burrow right after unborn baby broke, named Skip Jr. after his father, was born. Dustin Broke has already got himself involved in crime and mischief, while Brandy attempts to raise Beau Broke in what she hopes to be a happier environment.

Still having big trouble getting that artist dream off the ground, Darren Dreamer has fallen into debt and had to sell the house in Pleasantview. buying the smallest mobile home in the neighborhood at Agave Abode. Out of shame he sleeps in the storage room and gave the only bedroom to his soon-to-be young adult son, Dirk Dreamer who dreams of a much different life from his father.

Ousted from the FutureSim Labs Institute for his radical dislike for aliens and advocating for a stronger focus on rocket science and servos, mad scientist Dr. F has set up a rival lab a short distance away at Slipshod Mesquite, just close enough to spy with a not-so-subtle scanner or three. While most scientists stayed with FutureSim, Dr. F managed to recruit ambitious robot scientist Alexa Lexington, as well as a janitor/astronaut/maintenance guy called Vic Vector to his cause. The lab also has two servos, Dr. F's first prototype, a slightly paranoid tree-loving one who is called Proto-Makoto, as well as the second prototype, a hot-headed chef-bot called T.O.B.O.R.

[specter-dollhouse]

baby Broke boys -`♡´-

[whispersims]

beau: babies STINK like DIS.

[trulyumai]

Festivities of Saturnalia

pairing: caracalla / wife! reader

description: The Roman’s didn’t have Christmas; however they did have Saturnalia. With plenty of food, wine and presents, the festivities had begun.

warnings: none. so much fluff you’ll be buried in a soft, comforting cloud.

a-n: i love writing for this man so im glad y’all love reading it! enjoooooooy~

you didn’t mind the return of the festivities. Saturnalia; the festival held for the God of Saturn. It usually lasted a week, but with how the twins acted, it went for about two.

tables upon tables were situated in the main temple, almost everyone throughout Rome would show up in custom with vintage wines, aged cheeses and gifts aplenty for their loved ones.

you were no different. with two goblets in your palms and a semi-wrapped present under the meat of your arm, you made your way through the bustling crowd.

cheers and sounds of merriment were all around, a light break in the hustling environment helped you guide seamlessly towards the private section.

Where the emperors section lay tucked into the corner. Candles were spread out by the area, lighting it up beautifully while green foliage surrounded the offered foods.

“Ah, look who it is.” Placing the glasses gently, your thumbs brushed against the wooden table, with lidded eyes you smiled at Geta. “Good merriement to you too, my lord.”

The taller man scoffed, veiny hands smoothed over his mouth, wiping the stain and aroma of a bittersweet wine. His robes were ornate, gold lay about the seams as a white and red scheme took over the vastness of silk.

“Looking for your lover?”

Rolling your eyes, you sat down just beside him. Slumping forward with one arm pressed against a cheek, a sigh escaped quickly. “How’d you know?”

“Like it isn’t obvious,” gesturing to his drink, a servant dipped a bottle forward, filling Geta’s chalice completely.

The woman looked at you expectedly, already inching the beverage towards the empty cup.

“That’s alright,” you smiled, “see if anyone else needs their fill.”

The lady bowed, already on her way to the tables beside your own.

Swirling the marooned stained liquid around, a bored look crossed the emperors face before he spoke again.“So, what did you get my adoring brother? A robe, new rings… perhaps another disgusting pet to lay upon his shoulders?”

A laugh, warm and light broke out of you and Geta joined in smoothly. “No, no Dondus Jr,” nervously you brushed your hair back, little baby hairs escaped the tight braids and already you wanted to fix it.

“I got him something he’s been wanting actually.”

“Oh?” Geta leaned forward, his array of jewelery shined bright against the light. “And what would that be, dear one?”

Glaring jokingly at the ginger, you couldn’t help but return a moody tone back, shoving against his snoopy nature. “Well, wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would, actually—“

“Angel!” Even through such a loud setting, his voice could be distinguished. Cranking your head up, you noticed the wrinkled clothing, the mess of hair placed upon such a pale head.

Your adoring husband.

“Finally,” Geta called out, tone flat and certain.

“I thought you were skipping such celebrations, we almost gave up hope!”

Caracalla, ignoring his brothers pokes, went straight for you. Not having time to stand, you smiled brightly up at the man, already he was placing a kiss upon the crown of your head, and one more on your temple.

Although he looked messy— seemed unfit for such an occasion, the man came with gifts. Two were perched precariously in his hands as a grin overtook his features.

“Angel, you left without me! I told you I had to get ready.”

“We both couldn’t be seen late, my love. It is unbecoming.” A whine, pitched and high left the man’s pouting lips. “Who cares? Not like they’ll say something.”

Caracalla gestured for you to stand and with no fight at all you did just that. Now, with access to a free and warm chair (thanks to you), the emperor crashed down, it was then that Dondus inched their way out from the back of his head, crying out to their owner for such an unexpected action.

“Hello little one,” you cooed, your arm came out for the little creature, to which they took most excitedly.

“Wife,” Caracalla whined. “Come, sit!” Spreading his legs, the twinned emperor made room for your frame.

“Gods,” a look of disgust was thrown your way. “Do you two have to be so touchy all of the time?”

“Yes,”

“Of course!”

The both of you coherently called out as Caracalla brushed his nose upon the smooth skin of your neck, just where the dress dipped down.

“I got you something,” you sung teasingly, your nails climbed their way up his arm until it met with his soft jaw. “You did?!”

“Mhm, well, technically I got you two things but,” leaning in, you had to whisper gently with lips just grazing his ear.

“You’ll have to get the other one tonight,”

Caracalla grunted out, although it sounded more like a muffled moan, his hands dug into your hips and with reddened cheeks he looked anywhere but you.

“Do you want the other one now?” You questioned,brushing past his unruly bangs.

“Yes— please,” already the man knew what present was his and grabbed at with with callous hands.

“Calla— patience!” Interrupted by a laugh you tried to slow the man down, but already the present was unwrapped and the emperors hands stilled.

“You didn’t.”

“I did!”

Geta leaned over the table, the wine in his hand dribbled over the side but it couldn’t be more forgotten.

“Impressive.” His brother spoke, eyeing the gift suspiciously.

It was a small knife, no bigger than a dagger but the ornate design made up for it. With a golden handle, white and yellow jewels go vertically up the sides, to where the silver, shined blade lay on display.

“You— how did you..” His eyes noticed an inscription, on the butt of the blade lay his initials, purposefully dug in with the skill of a smith.

“Happy Saturnalia, my love.” A kiss was placed upon his cheek, smudging a light red upon the man’s skin.

Geta lost interest completely, instead his attention turned towards the citizens bickering in the middle of the hall— pushing and shoving each other while accusations were being thrown. A contented, deep grin entered his face when a punch was thrown, then two.

“Your turn, Angel!” Finally out of his stupor, Caracalla placed a poorly wrapped box in your hands. It was long and small in width, only a fool couldn’t tell what such an item was but you held a look of surprise none the less.

“Mmmmh, what could it be?” Long nails felt there way under the material of the gift, until the top was lifted and removed.

Gods, you really were surprised now.

Shakily, your fingers glided against the stones of the jewelry, you couldn’t believe just how many jeweles lay upon the golden chain.

You were afraid to even remove it.

“Do you like it?” Nervously, your husband chewed at his lips, his palms now itching with sweat placed themselves on either side of you.

Afraid to even touch your figure with such tainted skin.

“I love it! Are you joking? I— I don’t deserve such a gift, my love, I—“

“Angel! What nonsense,” he growled, offended of such an exchange of words. Hastily the man grabbed the necklace, you bit back a worried garble of noises as the cold chain found its way on your neck.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in Rome, you of all people deserve such an item. It was made just for you.” Finishing up, the necklace was placed just right, not too tight but sturdy enough to be placed above your collarbones.

“Thank you, darling,” you mumbled. Caracalla laughed at your embarrassed figure, his long fingers brushed back the hair hiding your face.

“Always so humble, angel. Look at you,” cooing, Caracalla caressed your reddened cheeks and you tried to scold the man, push him away with a gentle shove but it didn’t deter the man one bit.

“And where’s my little gift, brother? I gave you yours already.” Annoyed by the interruption, Caracalla pointed at the other gift beside his goblet.

“Have at it, Dundus picked this one out for you brother.”

“Very funny.” Geta squinted, picking up the box with hesitancy.

….

“It wasn’t a joke, brother.”

[admiringlove]

imagine slytherin!prefect gojo who’s a pureblood, with his aristocratic smirk and the effortless way he broke every rule without ever facing consequences. he was everything a gryffindor like you despised: charming, cocky, and far too good-looking for his own good. you? a muggle-born gryffindor prefect who followed the rules to the letter, always organized and always ready to challenge him.

gojo loved to tease you—especially about your patronus, a phoenix. “fawkes jr,” he’d call you with that infuriating grin, and you’d fight the urge to roll your eyes. it never failed: that nickname was always accompanied by a flicker of amusement in his sapphire eyes, like he was waiting for you to snap.

you hated it.

you hated how effortlessly he would show up late to patrols, how he would mock your meticulous planning, how everything you did seemed to bore him. but there was a part of you, deep down, that wondered if it was just an excuse to get under your skin.

“you know,” he’d say, flopping onto a bench during patrol, “you’re the perfect example of gryffindor stubbornness. i’d bet you’d follow these rules even to the grave.”

you’d shoot back, “better than being a slytherin who thinks he can charm his way out of anything.”

you never understood why he baited you so much. but he did, day after day, with that devil-may-care attitude and smirk that made your heart skip in the most annoying way.

what no one knew, though, was that after hours, in the dead of night, the two of you met in the room of requirement. heads bent over maps and notes, the sound of quills scratching against parchment and murmured conversation, you worked together.

the whispered wishes of hogwarts’ students—requests too dangerous, too messy for anyone else—found their way into your hands. the marauders is what you called yourself. the perfect dynamic, really: you made the plans, and gojo carried them out with his infamous slytherin cunning, usually getting away with it all in a manner that made you want to throttle him.

you hated that it worked, but you hated even more how easy it had become to be in sync with him.

and sometimes, when the room falls quiet, and the only sound is the scratch of your quill or the soft hum of magic in the air, you catch him watching you. his expression isn’t mocking or smug—it’s something softer, quieter, like he’s seeing a side of you he wasn’t supposed to notice.

and maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to notice it, too.

a/n. due to popular demand, this work is now being turned into a series—and here's the masterlist. you may put in a request to be added onto the taglist via my ask box :)

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

We're Always Shifting {Chapter Three}

Barty Crouch Jr. x Reader

WC: 7.5k

Masterlist

Summary: After a small fight and a make up session, Harry and the reader stumble upon a room that finally harbors some answers.

<--Prev/Next-->

The week following the disastrous attempt to steal from Snape had been a whirlwind of sleepless nights and desperate attempts to make sense of the hollow ache inside you. Hermione, Draco, and Luna had thrown themselves into the task of helping you, their worry manifesting in different ways. Hermione had suggested Legilimency, but Draco had shut that down immediately, his voice sharp with protective indignation. You had almost forgotten what he had gone through; his main argument being it wouldn’t help with memories you claimed not to have- but you know what it was. He didn't want you to feel that pain. Luna had brought you a collection of oddities- an old mirror, a battered music box, a tattered vinyl sleeve- swearing they would spark something, but they only left you feeling more adrift.

Even Draco, normally so quick with a biting remark, had grown strangely subdued. His silences spoke louder than his words, his usual bravado giving way to an unspoken concern that settled heavily between you all. It was like they could sense the cracks forming in you, but none of them knew how to mend them.

You’d tried to distract yourself. Hours spent in the library with Hermione, feigning interest as she scribbled notes with the intensity of someone trying to outrun her own thoughts. You let Luna’s voice wash over you as she rambled about magical creatures, her whimsical theories like threads of light in the dark. And when Draco had dragged you to the Astronomy Tower, pointing out constellations with a confidence that made your heart twist, you let yourself get lost in the stars, searching for answers you couldn’t name.

But nothing worked. The ache remained, gnawing at you like a shadow you couldn’t outrun. And then there was Harry.

He’d been watching you all week, his gaze a quiet weight you felt even when you tried to ignore it. He didn’t push, not at first. But his presence was constant, lingering at the edges of your world like an unanswered question. Every time his eyes met yours, there was something there- something raw and yearning, something you couldn’t face.

By the time Monday morning arrived, you weren’t surprised to find him waiting for you outside the courtyard steps. His tie hung loose, his hair as perpetually messy as ever, but his expression was different. He looked... tired. And the sight of him hit you like a punch to the gut.

“Hey,” He forced a smile, his voice softer than you’d expected. “Do you want to skip class? Go down to the Black Lake like we used to?”

The question was so simple, so Harry, that it almost broke you. Memories of stolen afternoons by the water flashed through your mind; his laughter, the sun on your skin, the feeling that nothing else mattered when you were with him. The sounds of Draco's snark remarks about you actually getting into the water- with Hermione’s fussing about getting caught- You wanted to say yes. You wanted to let him pull you back into that world, even for a moment. But the thought of being alone with him, of facing everything you couldn’t explain, was unbearable.

“I’d… rather be alone right now,” You muttered, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

Harry stepped in front of you, his brows furrowing in frustration. “Don’t do that,” He huffed, his voice sharper now. “Don’t shut me out. It’s not fair.”

You blinked, startled by the edge in his tone. “I’m not shutting you out, Harry. I just-”

“Yes, you are,” He cut you off, his hands clenching at his sides. “You’ve been doing it all week. Hell, longer than that. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t notice.”

His words hit like a slap, and you looked away, guilt twisting in your chest. “I’m not trying to shut you out,” You muttered softly. “I just… I need space.”

Harry let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Space,” He rasped, his voice laced with disbelief. “That’s rich, coming from you. You’ve had plenty of space, haven’t you? Space from me, but no one else.”

“That’s not fair-”

“No,” He interrupted, his voice rising. “What’s not fair is you disappearing into your own head and leaving me here, wondering what the hell I did wrong.”

The rawness in his voice made your breath catch, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. His green eyes burned with something you couldn’t name- hurt, frustration, desperation- and it cut deeper than you expected.

“Do you have any idea how much I miss you?” He strained, his voice breaking. “I miss us. I miss how things used to be. And I don’t understand why you don’t. It’s like… the second this year started, you wanted nothing to do with me. I need my best friend back.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, shaking your head. “It’s not that simple, Harry.”

“Why not?” He demanded, stepping closer. “Is it because of Ginny? Because of Malfoy? Because I swear, if it’s about them, I’ll-”

“It’s not about them!” You snapped, your voice rising in frustration. The words hung heavy in the air, and Harry flinched, his hurt etched into every line of his face.

“Then what is it about?” He asked, his voice quieter now, trembling with something fragile. “Because I feel like I’m losing you, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a storm, and you felt your walls crumbling. You wanted to tell him everything- the flashes of memories, the way your chest ached when you looked at him, the fear that you were unraveling piece by piece. But how could you, when you didn’t even understand it yourself?

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just… I don’t know how to fix it either.”

Harry’s shoulders sagged, but the determination in his eyes didn’t waver. “Then let me help you,” He huffed. “Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out together.”

His words should have been comforting, but they only made the ache worse. You didn’t deserve his loyalty- not when you couldn’t give him the answers he deserved.

Harry reached out, his hand brushing against yours for the briefest moment before he pulled away. “Take your space.” He sighed softly, his voice tinged with resignation. “But don’t forget… I’m still here. I’m always here. I'm not going to just leave you behind.”

You nodded, unable to speak, and watched as he walked away. His shoulders were hunched, his steps heavy, and you felt the tears spill over, hot and unrelenting.

As the courtyard fell silent around you, you realized how deep the chasm between you and Harry had grown. And yet, his words lingered, a promise you weren’t sure you deserved but couldn’t let go of.

"I’m not going to just leave you behind."

If only you could believe him. If only you could believe in yourself.

~~~

The days that followed your conversation with Harry dragged like wading through deep, endless water. You’d catch sight of him in the halls or across the Great Hall, and each time, the quiet anguish in his green eyes clawed at you. It made your chest ache, and no amount of distraction could dull the weight of it.

His words hung in the air, a constant echo in your mind. And yet, how could you tell him the truth? The flashes of fragmented memories, the visions that felt like whispers of another life. The image of Harry with a jagged lightning scar carved into his forehead- it haunted you. But how could you explain something that felt more like a dream than reality? How could you put that burden on him when you didn’t understand it yourself?

You tried to busy yourself, anything to drown the noise in your head. Hermione’s endless study sessions became your sanctuary, though her focused quill scratches only reminded you of your own restless inaction. Draco’s sharp comments- usually a source of irritation- started feeling oddly grounding, like he was trying to anchor you in his own backhanded way. And Luna, sweet Luna, would sit beside you, offering her peculiar trinkets and theories, her voice laced with a gentleness that made you want to cry. 

But no matter how hard they tried, and no matter how much you wished you could let them in, the ache in your chest remained, pulling you under.

And Harry.

He didn’t push, not at first. He lingered at the edges of your world, his presence always there, quietly waiting. But his patience wasn’t infinite, and you’d felt it begin to fray. The tension between you grew heavier with every passing day until finally, it all came to a head.

~~~

It was late one evening when you found yourself in the library again, the quiet hum of the room interrupted only by the occasional rustle of parchment. Hermione was beside you, her focus unwavering as she tackled Advanced Transfiguration. Across the table, Draco flicked lazily through a Potions text, his sharp features cast in the warm glow of a lamp. And then there was Luna, perched on the table’s edge, humming softly as she dangled a peculiar dried herb in front of her like it might hold all the answers you sought.

“You’ve been quieter than usual,” Hermione said finally, her tone cautious but kind. Her eyes flicked toward you, her quill pausing mid-scratch. “Still thinking about what Harry said?”

The question hit you and your thoughts came to a halt, though you tried to hide it. You hesitated, fingers tracing the edge of your book. “Yeah,” You admitted, barely above a whisper. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated is putting it mildly,” Draco hummed, his voice cutting but not cruel. “Potter’s as subtle as a Hippogriff, but at least he’s honest. You? You’re like some impossible bloody riddle, and I, for one, am tired of trying to solve it.”

You shot him a glare, but Luna chimed in before you could retort. “Maybe it’s not about solving.” She said dreamily, tilting her head. “Maybe the answer is already there, and you’re just scared of it.”

Hermione sighed, closing her book with a soft thud. “Look, no one’s asking you to figure it all out right this second. But pushing Harry away isn’t fair. You know how he is. He’ll wait forever if he has to, but that doesn’t make it okay.”

The words sank in, the guilt clawing at your insides. “I know.” You murmured, your voice barely audible. “I just don’t want to hurt him.”

“Bit late for that, isn’t it?” Draco said bluntly, though his tone lacked its usual bite. When Hermione shot him a glare, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “What? I’m just being honest. Someone has to.”

Luna’s voice was soft but steady, her gaze piercing in its own ethereal way. “Maybe it’s not about whether or not you want to hurt him. Maybe it’s about whether or not you trust him enough to let him help.”

The words struck a chord deep in your chest. Trust. That was the heart of it, wasn’t it? Trusting Harry to stay, to weather the storm of your fractured mind when you couldn’t promise him any clarity. Trusting him not to crumble under the weight of what little you could offer.

Without a word, you closed your book and rose from your chair, the scrape of wood against stone drawing all eyes to you. “I need some air,” You mumbled. “I’ll be back.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Luna placed a gentle hand on her arm, stopping her. Draco simply raised an eyebrow, though for once, he said nothing. You left before their collective concern could smother you.

~~~

The corridors were quiet, the late hour cloaking the castle in stillness. You wandered aimlessly, your thoughts a tangled mess of guilt and confusion, until your feet carried you to the Astronomy Tower. The crisp night air hit you as you stepped outside, the stars above sprawling endlessly, like an invitation to lose yourself in their vastness.

Leaning against the cold stone railing, you stared out at the dark silhouette of the Forbidden Forest. Your mind raced, memories you couldn’t place flitting just out of reach. The ache in your chest felt heavier here, the weight of it almost unbearable.

“You’re not the only one who hides up here, you know.”

The voice startled you, though it shouldn’t have. You turned to see Harry stepping out of the halls, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked as exhausted as you felt, the moonlight casting sharp angles across his face.

For a moment, you said nothing, the silence between you thick. Then Harry stepped closer, leaning on the railing beside you. “I didn’t mean to push the other day,” He said quietly, his voice raw. “I just… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help.”

The vulnerability in his tone twisted something deep inside you, but this time, you didn’t look away. “I don’t know how to do this either.” You admitted, your voice breaking. “And I’m terrified that if I tell you what little I do know, it’ll make everything worse.”

Harry frowned, his green eyes searching yours like he could will you to let him in. “Worse than this?” he asked softly. “Worse than watching you slip further away every day?”

You swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill. “Harry, I saw something the other night. It wasn’t real, but it felt real. It was you. But… not you.”

“What do you mean?” His voice was steady, but his brow furrowed with confusion.

You hesitated, the memory of his scar flashing in your mind. “You had a scar. A lightning bolt, right here.” You gestured to your own forehead. “And your eyes, Harry… they looked so tired. Like you’d been fighting something- something I couldn’t see.”

Harry stared at you, his confusion deepening. “A scar? What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know.” You confessed, aspirated, your frustration bubbling over. “I feel like my mind is playing tricks on me, showing me things that just don’t make sense. And I don’t know how to make it stop.”

As the silence settled between you, Harry’s hand remained steady on your arm, his warmth grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. His eyes searched yours, and for a fleeting moment, you let yourself believe he could take on some of the weight that had been suffocating you. 

“Alright,” He said softly, his voice tinged with that steadfast determination you’d always admired. “Let’s talk about it.”

You hesitated, then nodded, letting out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. The two of you turned and began walking, your footsteps echoing softly in the quiet corridor. For a while, neither of you spoke, the stillness giving you time to gather your thoughts. 

“It’s hard to explain,” You began, uncertain. “It’s not just the visions. It’s this… this feeling that something’s missing. Someone’s missing.” 

Harry glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “Missing? Like you’ve forgotten someone?”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “Or maybe it’s like they were never here to begin with, but they should’ve been. I don’t know, Harry. It’s like… there’s a gap, and I don’t know how to fill it.” 

He stayed quiet, letting you talk without interruption, his attention fully on you in a way that made your chest tighten. 

“And it’s not just that.” You continued. “Sometimes I look at people- Pandora, Draco, even Luna- and it’s like I’m seeing two versions of them at once. One that feels… right, and one that doesn’t. Like they’re slightly out of focus. I can’t explain it better than that.” 

Harry tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “And me? Do I… feel out of focus?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “No,” You said quietly. “You feel… solid. Real. But it’s like there’s another version of you, one I can’t quite remember but still… know. It’s the you with the scar.” You glanced at him, searching his face for any hint of recognition, but he only looked more confused.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Harry murmured, shaking his head. “But if you’re seeing this, if you’re feeling this… it’s got to mean something, right?”

You nodded slowly, your steps faltering as the ache in your chest deepened. “It has to,” You whispered. “Because if it doesn’t, then I’m just losing my mind.”

Harry stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His hands came to rest on your shoulders, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re not losing your mind,” He validated you firmly. “You’re going through something, something none of us understand yet. But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

His words settled over you like a balm, and you felt a spark of hope flicker to life amidst the chaos. You gave him a small, shaky smile, one that he returned with a quiet confidence that made you want to believe in him. 

“Come on,” He said, his tone lighter now. “Let’s keep walking. Who knows, maybe you’ll start seeing something that makes sense.”

You snorted softly, the sound startling both of you into a brief laugh. “Unlikely,” You muttered, though a tiny part of you dared to hope.

The two of you continued down the corridor, your steps falling into an easy rhythm. You talked in fits and starts, describing the strange flashes of memory that haunted you, the sensations that tugged at the edges of your consciousness. Harry listened intently, his occasional questions thoughtful but never pressing. 

As you turned a corner, you felt it. A tug, faint but insistent, pulling you toward the stretch of stone wall ahead. You slowed, your steps faltering, and Harry noticed immediately.

“What is it?” He asked, his voice low.

“I don’t know,” You murmured, your gaze fixed on the blank expanse of wall. The ache in your chest intensified, sharpening into something almost physical, and before you could say anything else, the stones began to shift.

Harry stepped back, his hand brushing yours as the wall transformed before your eyes. The bricks rippled and rearranged themselves, forming a tall, intricately carved door that hadn’t been there moments ago. You exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Harry, his expression mirroring your own mixture of awe and unease.

“What… is that?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I… don't know.” You whispered in a shaken voice. Then, your jaw tightened and you turned sharply to smile at Harry. He seemed confused.

“But I know someone who might.”

~~~

The quiet corridors of Hogwarts grew heavier with the weight of secrecy, and you found yourself pacing just outside the newly formed door in the stone wall. Your heart raced, caught between the tension of discovery and the uncertainty of what lay within.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention, and you turned just as Harry came into view. He wasn’t alone. Hermione trailed close behind, her expression sharp and curious, while Draco and Luna followed at a more casual pace. Ron brought up the rear, his hair an unmistakable mess, and his face reddened as if he’d just been caught in a compromising position.

“Bit late for a study group, isn’t it?” Draco drawled, though his curiosity was evident as he eyed the strange door.

“Late-night adventure,” Luna corrected him dreamily, her gaze flicking between the door and the stars peeking through the high windows.

Ron, rubbing at his neck, muttered, “What’s this about, anyway? Harry practically dragged me here. Interrupted my… er, reading session.” His ears turned even redder, and Hermione huffed, though a faint blush tinged her cheeks.

“Reading session,” Harry repeated, his lips twitching with amusement. “Right. That what we’re calling it these days?” 

Ron shot him a warning glare. “Not the time, mate.”

Hermione, either unwilling to entertain the teasing or simply too intrigued by the door, stepped forward. “What is this place?” She asked, her eyes narrowing as she inspected the intricate carvings on the door. “It wasn’t here earlier.”

You hesitated, glancing at Harry before turning back to the group. “I was hoping you'd know,” You explained softly. “It just showed up when I was telling Harry.. Everything.”

Hermione’s brows knit together in confusion, her logical mind clearly racing to process this revelation. “The Room of Requirement? I’ve read about it, but I’ve never actually seen it. Why now? Why would it appear for you?”

“I don’t know,” You admitted, your voice tinged with frustration. “But whatever’s inside… I think it’s important. I think it might help.”

Draco crossed his arms, his gaze flicking from you to the door with guarded skepticism. “And we’re just supposed to waltz in there, are we? What if it’s a trap? What if it’s not what you think?”

“Draco,” Luna said gently, her voice soft but firm. “The room appears when someone truly needs it. It wouldn’t trick her. It’s here to help.”

Hermione nodded, her curiosity winning out over caution. “Luna’s right. If the room has appeared, it’s because it has something to show us. Something you need.”

Ron, less convinced, muttered under his breath, “Great. Another magical mystery to solve right before curfew. What else is new?”

Harry ignored the grumbling, his gaze locked on you. “If you think this will help, then we’re with you. All of us.” His eyes softened, the vulnerability from your earlier conversation still lingering. “You don’t have to go in alone.”

You felt a surge of gratitude, your chest tightening at the unspoken solidarity between them. Even Draco, for all his snark, looked ready to follow you inside. With a deep breath, you turned to the door and reached for the handle.

The moment your fingers touched the cool metal, it gave way. As the door creaked open, a cool draft escaped, carrying with it the faint scent of old parchment and something metallic, like the tang of magic that had been left undisturbed for years. The room beyond was vast, its high, vaulted ceilings disappearing into shadow. It resembled a library, but not one you’d ever seen before- this one had a strange, disjointed quality, as though the room itself couldn’t decide what era it belonged to.

Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes that ranged from pristine to crumbling. Scrolls were stacked haphazardly in some corners, their edges yellowed with age. A large wooden table dominated the center of the room, its surface littered with papers, letters, and strange objects. Some were covered in thick layers of dust, while others gleamed as if they had just been placed there.

Luna was the first to step inside, her wide eyes taking in the scene with quiet awe. “It’s beautiful,” She murmured, her fingers trailing along the edge of the nearest shelf. “But... sad.”

“Sad?” Ron asked, clearly uneasy as he peered into the room. “It looks like someone’s attic exploded.”

Hermione ignored him, her gaze locking onto the table. “This isn’t just clutter.” She said, her voice hushed with the kind of reverence she usually reserved for particularly rare books. “It’s... research. Someone’s been experimenting here.”

“Experimenting with what?” Draco asked, his tone sharp as he moved cautiously into the room. His eyes swept over the objects, his posture stiff with suspicion.

Harry stayed close to you, his presence a steady anchor as you stepped further inside. Your heart raced as your gaze flicked over the table, the scattered papers and artifacts drawing you in like a magnet. There were pieces of broken clocks, small vials filled with swirling silver liquid, and diagrams that seemed to map out the flow of time itself. 

“Time magic,” Hermione whispered, her fingers hovering over a series of intricate sketches. “Whoever worked here was studying time manipulation.”

Draco snorted, though his eyes remained fixed on a glowing hourglass perched precariously on the edge of the table. “Brilliant. Messing with time never ends well. Just ask anyone who’s ever gone near a Time-Turner.”

“You think someone was using a Time-Turner here?” Harry asked, frowning.

“Not just using,” Hermione said, shaking her head as she picked up one of the papers. Her brow furrowed as she scanned the text, written in a spidery hand. “This is advanced. Far beyond what a Time-Turner can do. They were trying to... change something. Or maybe... restore it?”

“Restore what?” You asked, your voice trembling as you moved closer to the table. The ache in your chest had grown sharper, almost unbearable, as though the room itself was reaching out to you.

“I don’t know,” Hermione admitted, her frustration evident as she rifled through the papers. “But it’s clear they were trying to fix something they believed was broken.”

Luna had wandered to a shelf near the back of the room, where a dusty mirror hung on the wall. Her reflection shimmered strangely, as though the glass were rippling like water. “This room remembers,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. “Whoever was here... they left pieces of themselves behind.”

“That’s not ominous at all,” Ron muttered, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. 

Draco reached for a stack of letters, his movements careful as though he were afraid they might crumble to dust. “These are addressed to... someone named P.R.” He said, holding up an envelope. His eyes flicked to you. “Does that mean anything to you?”

P. R. The letters echoed in your mind, familiar yet elusive. Your breath hitched as your fingers brushed against one of the objects on the table- a locket, tarnished with age but still bearing the faint engraving of a crest you couldn’t place. The moment you touched it, a wave of dizziness washed over you, and the room seemed to blur.

“Are you alright?” Harry’s voice cut through the haze, his hands steadying you as you swayed.

“I... I think someone I knew was here.” You whispered, your voice barely audible. “Someone important. But I can’t... I can’t remember.”

Hermione placed a hand on your shoulder, her expression softening. “Take your time,” She said gently. “We’ll figure this out.”

As you steadied yourself, your gaze fell on a journal lying at the edge of the table. Its leather cover was worn, the edges frayed, but something about it called to you. You reached for it, your hands trembling as you opened it to the first page. 

The handwriting was familiar, looping and elegant, though the words themselves made little sense at first. But as you flipped through the pages, fragments began to emerge- notes about fractures in time, the consequences of changing the past, and a name that sent a chill down your spine.

Bartemius Crouch Junior.

Your breath caught, and the room seemed to spin around you. The locket in your hand grew heavier, the pieces falling into place with a clarity that was almost painful.

“He was here,” You furrowed your brow, your voice breaking. “Someone- Bartemius. He... he was trying to fix something.”

The others exchanged glances, their confusion evident, but Harryreached for your arm. “What do you mean? Fix what?”

You shook your head, tears spilling over as the ache in your chest became too much to bear. “I don’t know,” you choked out. “But I think... I think P.R. was supposed to help him.”

~~~

The hours passed in a haze as the six of you combed through the room, its strange, timeless air wrapping around you like a cloak. Scrolls and letters were examined, diagrams poured over, and objects handled with the utmost care. The weight of unspoken questions hung heavily in the air. Luna, ever practical in her whimsical way, had vanished at some point, returning with an assortment of snacks and a steaming cup of tea, which she set in front of you with a soft smile.

“You’ll think better with a clear head,” She cooed simply, her serene confidence somehow soothing.

You wrapped your hands around the tea, the warmth grounding you as you turned your attention back to the journal on your lap. Harry sat beside you, his presence steady and reassuring as he sifted through a pile of letters. Hermione and Ron were deep in discussion across the table, their voices low but urgent, while Draco stood by the shelves, his sharp eyes scanning the spines of books as though they might hold the answers you sought.

It was Draco who broke the silence, holding up a stack of letters with a triumphant smirk. “These are addressed to someone named ‘Vixen,’” He announced, his tone tinged with curiosity. “Bartemius seems to have been quite... devoted to her.”

The name sent a shiver down your spine, and you exchanged a glance with Harry. “Vixen?” You parroted, your voice barely above a whisper. “That sounds... familiar. But it feels important.”

Draco flipped through the letters, his expression shifting as he skimmed their contents. “He wasn’t just devoted,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “He was... obsessed. Listen to this.”

He cleared his throat and read aloud from one of the letters:

My dearest Vixen,

How am I meant to live in this fractured, hollow world without you? Every breath I take is a cruel reminder of your absence, every sunrise an insult, every hour stretching into eternity without the warmth of your presence. You were my heart, my hope, my soul- and without you, I am unmade. Even now, I feel the edges of myself fraying, the darkness creeping in where your light once shone so brightly.

Do you know how often I find myself reaching for you in the quiet moments? When the silence becomes unbearable, I think of our laughter- the way it echoed in the halls as Regulus teased us or as Dorcas argued over some absurd plan we all knew we’d follow anyway. I think of Pandora’s curiosity, her unyielding faith in the impossible, or Evan’s snark, always ready to rally us when the world seemed set against us. We were unbreakable, weren't we? Together, we had something the rest of the world couldn’t touch. And now... now that unity feels shattered, like glass crushed underfoot. They won't look at me. Call me mad.

But it wasn’t the world that took you from me, was it? It was him.  

Dumbledore.

I see his shadow in every crack of this broken life. He played his games, weaving his manipulations like an old spider, and we were caught in his web. You, most of all. He didn’t see you as a person- not the fierce, vibrant force of nature that you were- but as a pawn, something to be sacrificed for his grand design. And now you are gone. He stole you from us. From me.

I hate him for it. I hate him with a fire that burns hotter than any magic I’ve ever known. He will pay for what he’s done- I swear it, my love. He will answer for the hole he has torn in this world, for the family he has destroyed. But my rage, my grief, my hatred- they are nothing compared to the love I still hold for you. A love that will not, cannot die.

And so, I refuse to let this be the end. I refuse to let Dumbledore’s schemes, his lies, and his arrogance win. I will defy him. I will defy the laws of magic, the constraints of time, the will of the universe itself if that is what it takes to bring you back. Whatever the cost, I will pay it. Whatever the consequences, I will bear them. Nothing matters but you, my Vixen.

I will find a way. Regulus, Dorcas, Pandora, Evan- they deserve to see you again. To feel whole again. And I deserve to hold you in my arms, to hear your voice, to live in the world as it was meant to be- where you and I were unstoppable.

I will not fail you.  

Wait for me, my love. No matter where you are, no matter how far you’ve been taken from me, I will find you. I will tear down every barrier, bend time itself, and defy the heavens to bring you home.  

Forever and always,  

Bartemius  

The room fell silent, the weight of Bartemius’s words settling over you like a heavy fog. Your chest ached, the same gnawing emptiness that had plagued you all week surging to the surface.

“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered, breaking the silence. “That’s not devotion. That’s... that’s desperation.”

Hermione nodded, her brow furrowed in thought. “Whoever this Vixen was, she must have meant everything to him. And it sounds like something happened to her. Something he blamed Dumbledore for.”

Draco set the letters down, his sharp gaze shifting to you. “And you think this is connected to you? To what you’ve been feeling?”

“I don’t know,” You admitted, your voice trembling. “But it feels... tied to everything. To the visions, the ache in my chest, even the gaps in my memory.”

Luna, who had been quietly examining a small box filled with trinkets, spoke up then, her tone calm but pointed. “What about the initials? P.R. Whoever Bartemius was writing to, they must have been important too.”

Harry hesitated, his expression thoughtful. “P.R.,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It could be a name. Or a title.”

“Pandora Rosier,” Draco said suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

The room stilled, all eyes turning to Luna. She didn’t flinch under the weight of their gazes, her expression serene as always, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes- something deep and unknowable.

“Pandora Rosier,” Draco repeated, his voice firmer now. “Your mother. What if P.R. stands for her?”

Luna tilted her head, considering this. “It’s possible,” she said softly. “But my mother never mentioned Bartemius Crouch Jr. Or anyone named Vixen.”

“But he mentioned her,” Hermione interjected, her voice filled with quiet urgency. “If there’s a connection, it might not have been something she wanted to share. Especially if it involved time magic.”

“Wait a second,” Harry said, frowning. “If Bartemius was writing to Vixen and working with P.R., then where does this locket fit in?”

You looked down at the locket still clutched in your hand, its weight suddenly overwhelming. The crest etched into its surface seemed to shimmer in the dim light, and for a moment, you swore you saw something shift within its tarnished depths.

“I think...” You began, your voice barely audible. “I think this locket was hers. Vixen’s. And somehow, it’s tied to everything.”

Draco leaned closer, his sharp features etched with determination. “Then we need to figure out who Vixen was. And what Mrs. Lovegood’s role was in all of this.”

“And how it connects to you,” Harry added quietly, his green eyes filled with unwavering resolve.

You kept staring at the locket. It seemed old, older then most things in the room. You ran your thumb along the engravings, more stars.

Mindlessly, you lifted the tea to your lips and took a sip, immediately hit with a bitter- almost sour taste. Your expression shifted and you frowned into the cup like the liquid would apologize for it’s flavour, earning a laugh from Harry.

You huffed at him and leaned forward to take a sniff of the steaming mix and your face fell, the smell reminding you of the humid musty smell of the potions classroom. Then the memory hit you, it all hit you at once.

“I have been nothing if not fair tonight, Vix!”

“You guys.” You whispered and set the tea down. “Vix. It's what Professor Snape called me. That night we got caught in his storage closet- he called me Vix. What if.. it's Vixen? Short for Vixen?”

The room went quiet as your words hung in the air, the revelation settling heavily over the group. Hermione’s quill paused mid-scratch, and Harry’s gaze sharpened, a mix of concern and curiosity etched into his features. Draco, ever the skeptic, leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studied your expression.

“Vix,” Hermione repeated, her voice soft, but insistent. “That’s what he called you?”

You nodded slowly, the weight of the memory making your chest tighten. “That night in the potions storeroom... it didn’t make sense at the time. I thought it was just Snape being... Snape. But now...”

“It’s a nickname,” Draco interrupted, his tone edged with skepticism. “One he used like he’s done it before. Like it’s... familiar.”

Harry’s brow furrowed, his hands clenching into fists on the table. “And you’re saying it’s short for Vixen. That Snape knows something about this... about you.”

“It would explain why he’s been so cagey,” Hermione murmured, her eyes darting to the journal in front of her. “If he’s connected to all of this, then he’s been keeping it from us on purpose.”

“Typical Snape,” Harry muttered bitterly, running a hand through his messy hair. “He’s always holding onto secrets. This one just happens to be about you.”

Luna, who had been quietly observing, tilted her head thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s protecting something,” she said, her voice lilting and serene. “Or someone.”

The words sent a chill through you, a nagging suspicion worming its way into your mind. “What if he’s protecting me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

The silence that followed was deafening. Hermione was the first to break it, her tone hesitant but thoughtful. “It’s possible,” she said, glancing around the room. “If you’re tied to this Vixen, and she was important enough for Bartemius Crouch Jr. to risk everything for her... then Snape might be trying to keep you out of harm’s way.”

Draco scoffed, though there was an edge of unease to his voice. “Or he’s just doing what he always does: sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong and making things worse for everyone.”

“Draco,” Luna said gently, her eyes meeting his with quiet certainty. “Not everything is as it seems. Especially when it comes to memories.”

Your grip on the locket tightened, the cold metal grounding you as your thoughts swirled. Snape’s words from that night echoed in your mind over and over.

“I need to talk to him,” You said suddenly, your voice steady despite the anxiety bubbling under the surface. “If Snape knows something- if he’s been keeping this from me- I have to confront him.”

Ron furrowed his brow, shifting uneasily as he crossed his arms. “Yeah, alright,” he muttered, voice edged with skepticism. “But if Snape’s trying to protect you, you really think he’s just gonna spill everything the second you ask? He’s not exactly known for being... forthcoming.”

Harry gave a curt nod, his jaw tightening. “Ron’s right. Snape’s a master at keeping secrets. If he doesn’t want you to know something, he’ll find a way to shut you down.”

Draco’s sharp laugh broke the tension. “Oh, please,” he drawled, leaning against the edge of the table. “Snape’s not some untouchable genius. If he’s hiding something, we’ll find a way to pry it out of him. Subtlety isn’t Potter’s strong suit, but-”

“I’m sitting right here, Draco,” Harry cut in, his tone clipped.

“Enough!” Hermione snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This isn’t about who’s better at manipulating Snape. The question is, how do we even get him to listen? Confronting him outright might not be the best idea if-”

The sound of your head hitting the back of the sofa interrupted her. Everyone turned to you, their conversations faltering as they noticed your sudden shift. You had sunk deeper into the plush cushions, eyes fluttering closed, the tension in your face softening as if the fight had drained out of you entirely.

“Hey,” Harry said, his voice low with concern as he stepped closer. “Are you... okay?”

“Just tired,” You mumbled, your words slurring slightly. Your head lolled to the side, and you let out a long, heavy breath. “Really, really tired...”

“That's strange,” Hermione murmured, exchanging a look with Harry. “You were fine just a minute ago.”

Luna, perched on the arm of a nearby chair, tilted her head with an almost serene expression. “Oh, that’s the sleeping draught,” She said simply, as if announcing the weather.

“What?” Draco straightened, his sharp gaze snapping to her. “Sleeping draught? What are you talking about?”

“The tea,” Luna explained, her tone light and airy. “I added a touch of sleeping draught. She’s been so restless, and I thought it might help her relax.”

“You drugged her?” Ron yelped, his voice jumping an octave. “Without telling her?”

Luna shrugged, her dreamy demeanor unbothered by the growing alarm in the room. “She needed it. And it’s not as if it’ll harm her. It’s just a gentle nudge toward sleep.”

“Luna!” Hermione’s voice was half-scolding, half-exasperated. “You can’t just-”

“She needed it,” Luna interrupted, her voice gentle but resolute as she looked at you, now fully dozing against the sofa cushions. “You’ve all seen how exhausted she’s been. This will give her a chance to rest. The Galanthus Nivalis I put in will help her memories.”

“The what now?” Draco hissed and snapped his entire body toward Luna. But she just smiled.

“Snowdrop. We planted it in Herbology weeks ago. It finally dried.” She hummed blissfully. “She needs it. It will help her memories, with her thoughts. And the Sleep draught.” She muttered before turning to smile at your sleeping form as Harry took off his cloak and laid it over you. “Encouragement.”

The group was silent for a moment, everyone staring at Luna in bewilderment.

“Bloody hell, remind me to never cross you, Lovegood.” Ron muttered with wide eyes.

Luna tilted her head, her serene smile unshaken by Ron’s comment. “Oh, I would never do anything harmful, Ronald,” She said sweetly. “Unless it was absolutely necessary.”

“That’s somehow not reassuring,” Draco muttered, narrowing his eyes as he took a seat beside you, watching your steady breathing. His tone was sharp, but the tension in his posture betrayed his concern. “What exactly is this supposed to do, Luna? Beyond putting her to sleep?”

“The snowdrop is for clarity,” Luna explained patiently, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “It’s said to bring light to the shadowed corners of the mind. Combined with the sleeping draught, it should help her relax enough to let her thoughts surface. Sometimes, the mind holds on too tightly to things it isn’t ready to let go of. This will give her space to remember.”

“Or,” Draco countered, leaning forward with a glare, “it’ll just mess her up more, and we’ll be left cleaning up the pieces. Did that thought cross your mind, Luna?”

Hermione interjected, her tone exasperated. “Oh, stop it, Draco. You’ve seen how much she’s been struggling. Luna might actually be onto something. Snowdrop has restorative properties- Professor Sprout mentioned it in class. If this gives her a moment of peace, we should be grateful.”

“Thank you, Hermione,” Luna said dreamily, her gaze flickering to you again. “I thought you might understand.”

Harry, who had been silently watching over you, let out a soft sigh. “Luna’s right. She’s been pushing herself too hard- too much guilt, too much pressure to figure this all out. If this helps, even a little, then it’s worth it.”

Draco let out a frustrated huff but didn’t argue further, his eyes lingering on you as if searching for any sign of discomfort. “Fine,” He muttered, leaning back in his chair. “But if she wakes up confused, crying, or worse, I’m blaming Lovegood.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Because that’s new.”

“Enough,” Hermione snapped again, rubbing her temple. “The important thing is that she’s resting. Let’s use this time to figure out our next move.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances before nodding. Harry shifted closer to you, adjusting the cloak he had draped over you to ensure you were warm. His gaze softened, and he muttered under his breath, “She’ll be alright.”

Luna, who had been humming softly to herself, smiled warmly at him. “She will,” She said. “You’ll see.”

For a while, the room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of parchment as Hermione returned to her research and the occasional muttered comment from Draco as he sifted through the letters. Ron, looking thoroughly unsettled by the turn of events, busied himself by examining one of the dusty bookshelves, while Harry remained by your side, his unwavering presence a silent promise.

As you lay there, your breathing even and your features peaceful, something in the air seemed to shift. The magic of the room, subtle but ever-present, seemed to hum in response, as if waiting for the moment you would wake. Waiting to come alive once more when you returned.

Taglist: @bmyva1entine @edb954 @juniorlore @milunalupin @ailoda @ellipsisspelled @nessielovesfood @yannew @schrodinger-ka-billa @rory-cakes @rubyboobie17 @jennapancake @vilentia @derbygracie

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You Deserve It

Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader

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A Marvelous Surprise

I’d always thought that my life was pretty perfect. I had everything I could ever want: a supportive family, great friends, and a boyfriend who was not only incredibly talented but also genuinely kind. My boyfriend was none other than Oscar Piastri, the Formula 1 driver who had taken the world by storm. But, as I found out one sunny afternoon at the racetrack, sometimes even the perfect life has a few extraordinary surprises.

The day started like any other Grand Prix day. I was in the pit lane, surrounded by the clamor of engines and the frenetic energy of the race day preparations. Oscar had been busy with the team, and I was making my way through the paddock, trying to stay out of the way but still soaking in every moment of the high-octane atmosphere.

I had my usual race day ritual—cheering for Oscar from the best spot I could find and, if I had a moment, catching up on social media. My love for Marvel was well-known among my friends, and they had teased me about it endlessly. Every interview I did where I gushed about my favorite characters—Bucky Barnes, played by Sebastian Stan, and my all-time favorite actor, James McAvoy—was met with knowing smiles and playful jabs.

Oscar had heard it all, of course. He was always so patient with my endless Marvel monologues. I had even been lucky enough to attend a few fan events, where my excitement for superheroes could be fully unleashed. But nothing could have prepared me for what was about to happen.

The race was in full swing, and Oscar was driving brilliantly. I was on the edge of my seat, my eyes locked on the track, when my phone buzzed with a new message. I glanced down to see a text from Oscar: “Meet me at the hospitality suite after the race. I have a surprise for you.”

My heart raced—not from the thrill of the race, but from the anticipation of Oscar’s surprise. The remainder of the race felt like it dragged on forever. When Oscar finally crossed the finish line, victorious as always, I couldn’t wait to see him.

After the post-race celebrations, I headed to the hospitality suite. The area was relatively quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the pit lane. I entered the suite, expecting to find Oscar waiting with a small token of his appreciation or perhaps just a sweet gesture to celebrate his win.

What I saw instead took my breath away.

The suite was filled with the unmistakable aura of Marvel’s finest. There, standing among the elegant furniture and decorations, were some of my absolute favorites—Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, Elizabeth Olsen, Scarlett Johansson, Robert Downey Jr., James McAvoy, Evan Peters, and Anthony Mackie. They were chatting amongst themselves, their faces lit with amusement as they turned to see me enter.

My jaw dropped. My eyes darted between them, not quite believing what I was seeing. I stumbled into the room, feeling like I was walking through a dream.

Oscar stepped up beside me, his grin as wide as ever. “Surprise, YN!” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief and affection. “I know how much you love Marvel and James McAvoy, so I thought I’d arrange a little meet-and-greet.”

I couldn’t form words. I just stared, blinking rapidly. Chris Evans noticed and chuckled. “I think we broke her,” he said, leaning toward the others.

Elizabeth Olsen came over, her smile warm and genuine. “Hi, YN! I’m Elizabeth. We’ve all heard so much about your love for Bucky Barnes. It’s great to finally meet you!”

Sebastian Stan, ever the charming Bucky, approached with a wink. “Hey there. I see you’re a fan of my alter ego. I have to say, it’s always amazing to meet someone who appreciates Bucky like you do.”

James McAvoy was next. My heart skipped a beat as he extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, YN. I’ve heard you’re quite the fan. Your enthusiasm is contagious.”

I shook his hand, barely able to contain my excitement. “James, I can’t believe it’s really you. You’ve been my favorite actor for as long as I can remember.”

Evan Peters and Anthony Mackie joined in, their smiles infectious. “So, YN, what’s it like having Oscar Piastri as your boyfriend?” Evan asked playfully. “Is he as impressive off the track as he is on it?”

I laughed, still trying to get my head around everything. “Oh, absolutely. He’s amazing.”

Scarlett Johansson then stepped forward, her presence commanding. “YN, I’ve heard so much about your passion for the Marvel universe. It’s wonderful to see such enthusiasm.”

We spent the next few hours in a whirlwind of conversation, photo ops, and laughter. I felt like I was floating on a cloud. Oscar watched with a knowing smile, clearly enjoying the joy his surprise had brought me.

I chatted with each of them about their roles, my favorite scenes, and even got some behind-the-scenes stories. Chris Evans regaled me with tales from the set of the Captain America films, while Robert Downey Jr. shared funny anecdotes about his time as Iron Man.

When it was time to say goodbye, I was reluctant to leave. I hugged each of them, my heart full of gratitude and happiness. “Thank you all so much. This has been a dream come true.”

As I walked out with Oscar by my side, I felt like I was walking on air. “You really outdid yourself this time,” I said, leaning into him.

Oscar kissed my forehead. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. You deserve every bit of happiness.”

The ride back to our hotel was quiet, filled with comfortable silence and shared smiles. I knew I’d be reliving every moment of the day in my mind for a long time. The memories would be a cherished part of my life, thanks to Oscar and his incredible surprise.

As I finally settled into bed, I found myself replaying the day’s events. It felt like I was living in a Marvel movie, where everything came together perfectly in the end. I had my superhero dreams come true, and it was all thanks to the love of my life who knew me better than anyone else.

-

Taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal l l @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi i @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess s @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

[dandylovesturtles]

Top Ten Posts of 2023

I decided, why not? ^^

I'm limiting this to fics/analysis/headcanon/etc posts I made during the year and skipping over anything that isn't my actual creative work. That said, if you're curious, my actual top post was this funky screenshot from episode 2.

10. Everyone's just fine with Donnie modding the moon buggy? (362 notes)

It occurred to me that despite being MASSIVE nerds for the Jupiter Jim franchise, the bros seemed awfully chill with Donnie taking an actual on-set moon buggy and modding the hell out of it.

A few people argued with me in the notes that the Turtle Tank is so cool no one could possibly be mad about it and I do think that's fair. The Turtle Tank is easily my favorite thing Donnie made in the show.

9. Splinter and Leo talk post movie (443 notes)

And then his dad walks in and says, “I would like to talk to Blue, please. Alone.” And suddenly Leo doesn’t feel so good anymore.

This is the most recent tumblr fic I've done (I think lol), so seeing it make it this high felt pretty good. I love Splinter and his boys... they make me emotional.

8. A headcanon about the Disaster Twins (445 notes)

I have a headcanon that the twins are lowkey always trying to get each other to laugh.

This is still true.

7. A showcase of Donnie's injuries in End Game (462 notes)

So everyone talks about Donnie getting his shell shredded by the Shredder in Many Unhappy Returns but I feel like it’s underappreciated that that happened to him coming off of getting his ass beat in End Game like

One of the first posts I made when I made this blog haha. Poor Donnie |'D

6. Donnie records everything (617 notes)

broke: Donnie listening to what happened in the prison dimension woke: Donnie showing Raph Leo’s big damn hero speech since he wasn’t there the first time

The main reason why this has so many notes is because @roseverdict wrote a great fic down in the notes that you should all go read.

5. Leo asks Donnie a favor (829 notes)

“You might as well tell me what you need,” he says, turning to his computer and pulling up his list. “I’ll assess it and prioritize.” “No, no, that’s okay. It’s nothing,” Leo insists. “Nardo.” Donnie levels his best stare at him. “What is it?”

I love writing the Disaster Twins being soft and you guys love it when I write it too.

4. Present Donnie and Future Donnie have a little disagreement (CAS AU fic) (1,242 notes)

“What was I supposed to do, tie him to a chair?” “Yes!?” says Mini-him like he’s stupid, which warrants a scoff.

Shoutout to @skcirthinq who doodled a comic version of their conversation.

3. Casey Jr. and Uncle Tello troll Present Donnie (CAS AU fic) (1,701 notes)

Casey Jr, says Uncle Tello’s voice. Uncle Tello? Do you want to see something really funny?

This is my actual fic with the most notes! I'm glad you all enjoyed this silly little take on what was actually an incredibly intense moment in Cass's original comic.

2. Mikey contacts the Hamato ancestors (2,054 notes)

future Mikey: *trying to contact the spirits of the Hamato for advice and guidance in the apocalypse* Donnie’s spirit: Hello, you are now communing with Donatello.

I can't believe you guys gave over 2K notes to the stupidest joke I've ever made. Shoutout to @nonymous06 for this artist's rendition.

and finally, drum roll please.....

My top post of 2023:

1. A very silly idea for a separated AU (4,283 notes)

non-angsty ROTTMNT separated AU where the boys meet online and bond over their shared love of Jupiter Jim and skateboarding and Lou Jitsu. Then one day they agree to meet irl for the first time at a con and decide to dress as turtle aliens.

This post spawned an adorable fanart by @thatsmutbean , this hilarious fanart by @onionninjasstuff , and an entire fanfic called new phone who dis by @rbtlvr

This has been an incredible year! My love for ROTTMNT has not diminished in the slightest and I still have lots of ideas, so I hope you guys stick with me for 2024. Thanks again! Happy New Year!!

[lodgersims]

We now head over to Pleasantview to spend some time with the Broke family, home to Brandi, Dustin, and Beau.

The family bio reads, "Brandi was left to raise two boys alone following her husband's suspicious pool ladder accident. With Dustin acting out, can Brandi teach young Beau to make the right choices in life?"

But it looks like single mom Brandi has much more on her plate than she ever realized.

And we welcome into the world, Skip Broke Jr.

I try to go alphabetical with births but I have a few exceptions. Families with pre-established naming conventions (Dreamers, primarily) and households from Veronavilla, as I am more concerned with their Shakespearean equivalents then the alphabetical name scheme.

And, in rare cases, characters that to me should have that name. Skip Broke Jr. being one, I always name Unborn Baby Broke that name. The only other character in that situation is Unborn Baby Curious who will always be named Tycho. This may also apply to characters who canonically have certain future children. If Loki and Circe ever do have those twins, then they will be named Atom and Ceres.

But anyway, Skip Broke has been welcomed to the family.

Brandi teaches Beau how to talk immediately afterwards. Good for her.

The Welcome Wagon showed up and Married Man Checo Ramirez seems to have the hots for Brandi.

But Brandi had eyes on someone else. She's always been intrigued by Darren. An artist. Sensitive. Everything Skip wasn't. But even though she's still working through those complicated emotions, she learns that Darren also lost his wife too. And they are bonded in their shared loss, and desire to start over.

But, in the midst of her at-home date of pizza and baby crying, she does sneak a look at the computer.

Finally. A job opening.

Brandi was hesitant to take it with the new baby, but she can see that Dustin has grown into a very responsible young man.

If only she knew where he went at night, and what type of people he hung out with.

[kevinvoncrastenburg]

Uberhood 🎇100🎇 - Broke

Time to celebrate - Not only Skip Broke Jrs. birthday, but also 100 posts of my Sims 2 Uberhood. Well technically we reached 105 or something posts by now but it's 100 picture dumps if that makes sense. 😅 It's so satisfying to be back at the Broke's for this, since my very first Uberhood post was at the Broke's as well. If that ain't full circle! 😊

As mentioned above, Skip Broke Jr. celebrated his birthday. He grew up into a teenager and that's what he looks like now. 😊

A random pic of Lucy Burb boring the hell out of Paola Picaso. Well to Lucy's defense Paola always looks bored or pissed off. 😂

Skip's older brother, Beau Broke, finally had his first kiss with his now girlfriend Paola. 💞

I'll end this post with a few pics of Brandi Broke harvesting strawberries from her garden. 🍓

Thank you all SO much for following my Sims 2 Uberhood progress for over 100 posts now. I really thought it'd be corrupted by now or whatever but here we are lol. I really appreciate you guys. To a 100 more posts. 🥂🍾

[iamnotceleste]

Take a deep breath, girl

Series Masterlist: You know how to ball, I know Aristotle

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x YN Sage

Warning: none

A/N: Here I wanted YN to meet Carlos's sister..but shh they dont know yet. Sorry for posting late. I had exams. I also did some research on spanish curriculum. Its more complicated than I thought.. But I'll try to make everything as real as possible. Feedback is appreciated.

"Yeah, I'm just going to pick up books for the next period from the lockers and I'll be right back," you told your friends as you finished up with your tiffin. You walked through the hallways to the lockers.

As it was tiffin break, everybody were in the cafeteria or playground. You were thinking of what homeworks you'll need to be doing that night when a sob startled you. You focus back to see a young girl was crying on the floor near the lockers.

"Hey are you okay? What happened?" The girl looked up but was too distressed to say anything.

"Hey it's okay, it's okay. Take a deep breath. Follow me. In and out. In and out. There you go."

The girls eratic breathing slowed down a little. "What's your name, nina?" "Ana" "Well Ana, you want to tell me what's wrong?"

"My project broke," Ana said while pointing to what you just noticed, a mini town model. "Oh no" "I kept it in my locker but now I come to find the street lights are broken. I have to show it next period," Ana sniffled.

You felt bad for the girl. "Let me see if I can help." "I don't know if you can, my papa did the lights. There's a lot of wire stuff." You smile at her words. "May I try?" Ana nodded so you took the model in your lap.

You look through the wires, twisting and connecting and voila! The lights are on again.

Ana looked absolutely thrilled. "Thank you, hermana! Thank you so much!" You couldn't contain your own smile to see her so happy.

"It was nothing. Now go and be careful so it doesn't break again!" "I will" She said happily skipping back to her class. You took your books and went back to class, happy to have helped out a younger student.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ana, querida, how did your project submission go?" Senor Sainz asked at dinner. "It broke before the class even started." "Then! What did you do?" Senora Sainz asks.

"I didn't know what to do. But an older girl came and helped me fix it. She was really sweet. I got an A in the project." Ana replied. "That's good. Well, who was she?" Blanca asked. "I don't know."

"She helped you and you didn't even ask for her name? That's rude Ana." Carlos said as a mean to tease her. Ana felt bad.

"It's okay. If you meet her next time ask for her name and say you're grateful alright?" Senora Sainz said. "Yes, mama."

[coreene-simblr]

Broke [3] - Part 2/2

[part 1]

I almost forgot about Skip jr.

He is a Brandi clone sadly. After I rolled for his aspiration I got both Skip and Brandi in cas and made a new face for Skip jr. (also changed his name)

I decided it was time to let this guy get his want. She's knocked up. She just blew 6.5k on a hot tub... and she really doesn't want to sell it.

And there it is!

It's cute that she rolled for baby immediately despite the romance secondary

Thanks man. Big help!

He wanted to give her a backrub it's cute

Also asked Skip jr to throw the football around. He is committed to being a good step-father!

He is absolutely besotted with her (yes, Brandi decided it was time to let her hair down)

And yay, she wants to get married! She also wants to marry Malcolm but she should realize soon that aint gonna happen

hahaha

Next round I am hoping I can get them out of that trailer, finally.

[lostgirlfandom]

Mother Dearest

Part Four

Pairing: FP Jones x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Words: 908

Summery: History of FP and his wife

Previous

You met Forsythe Pendleton Jones Jr when you were in elementary school. You had moved to Riverdale when you were really little. As a kid you didn’t much care for the change, it’s a new experience. The first memory you have Forsythe is when you were introduced to the class since you moved in the middle of the year. You were sat next to a boy with black hair and dark eyes. On the other side of him was another boy with light brown hair and brown eyes. The boy with dark hair was staring at you as you sat down which made you duck your head down as you were shy. 

A soft voice broke the silence that surrounded the table. “I’m Forsythe Pendleton Jones Jr. You can just call me Fp though.” You looked at the boy with dark eyes. 

“I’m Y/N.” You almost whispered to him. You then looked at the other boy as he was watching you too. 

“I’m Fred Andrews.” He spoke. 

“You can call him Freddy, I do.” Fp said with a smile. You smiled back. 

Time Skip

When you were middle school was when you realized that you liked Fp Jones as more than a friend. You didn’t know how or when you started to like him like that but it grew as you went into high school. In ninth grade was when you both started to grow into your teenage bodies. Starting to adjust life as you grew. It was also the year you both realized that you both liked each other. 

You can remember sitting with Fp at his house. You were both in his room on bean bag chairs. Though he pushed his up against yours so close that he was able to lean over and comfortably lean on a little. You were reading, so you didn’t notice that he wasn’t looking at his bike magazine anymore until he said something. 

“Y/N...” You looked over at him and saw him staring at you with a look in his eyes that you never seen before. 

“Yeah?” You said. You placed the still open book on your chest so your whole attention was on Fp. He put his head down and started to slightly rip the pages of the magazine. 

“I think...” He took in a deep breath and let it out as he spoke. “I like you a lot. As more than friends....” He sat there, almost regretting telling you.

But he didn’t look up to see a smile grow on your face. “I like you too.” You told him. His head jerked up and turned to you making you giggle at his face that he made. His eyes were wide with shock and jaw had fallen slightly. 

A grin tugged at his lips as he wet his lips and asked breathlessly. “Really?” You nodded at him as you leaned your head back comfortably against the bean bag but kept your eyes on him. “Th-That’s great! Uhhh,” He paused as he thought for quick second. “Do you want to go on a date soon?” He asked in a hurry and excited tone. You smiled at him.

“Sure. Just tell me where and when.” You told him. Next thing you knew he basically threw himself and wrapped his arms around your waist and was on his knees with his head buried in your stomach. You grinned and ran your hands through his hair. 

Time Skip

The next important memory you have of you two was when you both joined the Serpents when you were 16. Fp’s dad had put him out, which made your mom take him in. You both lived on the Southside. You both were tired of the shit that people were giving you both so you joined the Serpents. Which turned out to be the best decision you had ever made. They became your family. 

When you were 17, you both were in love. You felt you could do anything while he was by your side. 

Fp and you had slowly risen in the ranks of the Serpents. It was put on hold once Fp joined the Army right after high school along with your engagement. He served for a couple of years before coming home and picked up where he left off with the Serpents. When coming back it was slightly different. You had also risen in ranks in the Serpents. Kind of like a Mom or caretaker of the gang. If someone was hurt and didn’t want to got to the clinic, they went to you. They had a problem, they came to you. 

He couldn’t be prouder. 

It was when you were both 25 that you got married, finally. That same year, Fp and Fred started the construction company. Two years later you were pregnant with Jughead. When Jughead was 5, you got pregnant with Jellybean. 

The problems started when Jellybean was around 2, mostly because Jelly was a sickly kid. She was constantly in and out of the hospital. Bad immune system which wasn’t ideal with Riverdale weather. This caused hospital bills to start piling high. Making Fp turn to less than legal ways to provide more money for the needs of his family. 

But you both were King and Queen of the Serpents by the time Jughead was 10. 

The drinking and jail were last straw for you. You couldn’t handle the down hill direction the love of your life was going.