#events of Dr Strange never happen

[isagrimorie]

Rewatching a few scenes from Star Trek Voyager's 2 part episode: Workforce. These episodes really did a number on Janeway; this is one of the times I did wish emotional arcs carried over from one episode to the next.

In the seven years in the Delta Quadrant, nothing has stopped Janeway's quest to bring home her crew back to the Alpha Quadrant.

And in the Delta Quadrant, for Captain Kathryn Janeway, the Voyager is home.

Janeway has faced off against the Borg Queen, the Hirogen, the Vidiians, and Species 8472 but no one has done as much damage to Janeway the way Dr Kadan did a number on Kathryn Janeway.

Because Kadan took away Janeway's certainty.

Kathryn Janeway can traverse any gulf, and jump to any fire as long as she has her iron-clad certainty and belief in her mission intact and that was what Kadan took from Kathryn Janeway.

He accidentally pinpointed the one thing she's been able to repress for so long, and that's her loneliness and how bone tired she is of being in Command.

More than any other Captain, Kathryn Janeway needed a sabbatical. She needed to reconnect with herself, and just be Kathryn.

This is the gift and curse Kadan gave to Kathryn Janeway. Because as plain ol' Kathryn Janeway, a factory worker she was happy, free of responsibility and burdens of Command.

She found friends, love, and comfort in Jaffen (a well-casted romantic lead. The actor had charisma and acting chops to make us believe Janeway Captain or just Kathryn would fall for him).

I don't think Janeway even knew how lonely she's become -- no one needed a long vacation from work than Janeway. I hope that she got that vacation Starfleet put her on the Flag Officer track.

Through the whole two-part episode we see them build up this vivacious and happy version of Kathryn, and then by part 2, the story slowly pulls that away from her.

Just as an example, the look on Kathryn's face when Harry addresed her as "Captain".

You can see how Harry addressing Kathryn as "Captain" struck a chord in her but it's also like someone threw cold water at her.

Kathryn immediately tells Harry to call her "Kathryn" instead:

Kathryn tries to still be in denial and tentatively brings up what Chakotay told her: "He said you had proof of who some of us really are."

She's trying to put distance between herself and this reality. She's conflicted-- she doesn't want to be Captain Janeway. There's even a hint of temptation there that she doesn't want to continue on helping her missing friends.

And yet, the moment Voyager and her crew were in trouble some part of herself reacted. And despite what she felt, she proceeded to bring down the shield knowing that doing so would tear her away from the life she's come to love.

This happens fast, once the shield grid is down, Kathryn disappears from Jaffen's side.

And the next time they see each other again, Kathryn Janeway is Captain Kathryn Janeway again with her uniform and Command back. And they might as well be a million miles away despite being in the same room:

Janeway allows herself to embrace Jaffen for one last time, and there's tears in her eyes, her grief is palpable. It's the way she's held herself apart from Jaffen, the way her hand twitches like she wants to reach out and touch him but can't.

Not in the uniform she's wearing, not in the position she's in.

You can see how much her experience in Quarren affected Janeway by the way she enters the Bridge:

In the turbo lift, she's faced away from the Bridge as if she can't bear being there. She has to steel herself.

Normally Janeway occupies the turbo lift like she owns that space. Because she DOES.

It’s so strange seeing Janeway occupy so little space in her own bridge, even when Voyager was hijacked she never looked out of place or so small.

The moment she steps out Harry, eager Ensign Harry, who missed the events in Quarren and how it might have affected her notices Captain Janeway immediately and announces her arrival.

She looks around at the bridge, still uncertain. Still picking up the pieces of the Captain.

Even when she sat on her Command chair,Janeway looked uncomfortable and for the first time, Captain Janeway doesn't look like she's larger than life.

She can't help but confide to Chakotay:

And. There. It. Is.

The biggest moment. Janeway admitted that Quarren felt like home. Even in The 37s, on a planet that's closest to Earth and home Janeway never even considered that home.

In the Delta Quadrant, Voyager is home.

The moment Janeway said this on the rewatch, I was bowled over because this is such a big moment for Janeway. A big thing for her to admit.

Chakotay asks her if Janeway is sorry he showed up and upended her comfortable life in Quarren?

There is a second's beat, but the beat tells all the story that needs to be said. Janeway rallies and lies: "Not for a second."

She's saying the right words but, at that moment, so near Quarren, after just losing Jaffen. Janeway says something she doesn't feel.

Janeway orders Tom to resume the course for home; but after she gives the order, Janeway's face falls.

And it's so damned sad and this, as I said above, is one of the moments I wish they continued this emotional throughline with Janeway.

Kadan did a number on her and I wish we get to see throughout a few episodes Janeway slowly get over the lie and find a measure of happiness.

Instead, season 7 loses its focus on Janeway and bizarrely have an episode with Q Jr and then a lot of focus on the EMH Doctor. It takes several episodes before Janeway gets the focus again, and that's the series finale.

If Voyager were written today, and the writers were allowed, this moment would be the emotional turning point for Janeway. It's the point where Janeway has to find a way home fast otherwise she's heading for a breakdown.

The center will not hold.

It's probably a good thing her future, alternate self decided to save Captain Janeway the heartbreak of a decade more of this life, and losing the people she loves the most.

And it kind of hurts that canonically, we don't know if Janeway was able to take that vacation. And if Janeway was able to get a measure of happiness and love, as I've mentioned after this episode and after Firewall I really don't care who Janeway ends up with anymore as long as Janeway is happy.

/Edited, March 13 2024, 10AM

[nqmonarch]

Genuinely wanna hear more regarding the No Wish SAHSRAU (Is that how it's spelled?) especially with all the new events that's happened.

Including the Dr Ratio that slid into our DMs.

First, apologies for the wait I took a while doing this request and then also decided not to post anything during the Palestine strike period because free Palestine.

And man, I don't know how it's spelled. I'd assume that's right it's so long though. Also YES Dr. Ratio sliding into our DMs except bro waltzes in and calls us an idiot ;-;

But first! Let's catch up with some of the current crew who is currently in Penacony!

Warning Penacony Spoilers

For the Trailblazer Penacony's been rough... Shortly after the death of their new closest friend, they'd been coerced into talking with Aventurine, and now had to make a decision without consulting any of the Astral Express beforehand. Sure, they were a seasoned adventurer with two missions under their belt but they still have no idea about their past or if they could trust such sketchy people.

"Aventurine, that little rat..." Their ears perked up when they suddenly heard the voice of this presumed Aeon. "I want to knock my fist against his forehead and see if there's a brain in there." The Trailblazer wouldn't try that.

But if you were acting like this maybe Aventurine and Black Swan could be trusted. The Trailblazer forced themselves to relax and tried to show confidence in their eyes. They could do this. It was good you were still by their side in the dreamscape, otherwise... what would they do?

Herta has found it's more difficult to communicate with you than the Aeons. While the Aeons simply didn't want to communicate it was as if there was some sort of wall separating her from you. It was beyond fascinating but it irked her, she wanted to get into contact with you right away. Then, as she was working to implement a simulated version of you into the simulated universe as an Aeon she had a revelation. What if... this was all a game?

Natasha had done it. Recently the eyes glanced off her more often, something she couldn't help but feel disappointed at. But upon one instance when they glanced upon her, she'd taken their warmth in full, and decided to set out. It seemed when these eyes were on her, she improved in nearly every aspect, so maybe her luck would improve as well? Even though it had been a dead end many times before she investigated Vache's worn down laboratory covered by snow searching for research. Except this time, she found something. This Aeon... was strangely benevolent and caring towards mortals.

That's all the updates we have for now on the current characters, in terms of progress. Herta is one smart cookie but who else is one smart cookie? Dr. Ratio!!! That man I love him so much. Sampo is also a potential worrying addition.

Given in the current event you can get either Sampo, Guinaifen, Asta, or Yukong for free, so let's see how they react.

Dr. Ratio

...This was interesting. The plot unfurling behind the scenes of Penacony was to be expected, Aventurine was being a pain in his ass also to be expected, but an Aeon looking at him? A smart Aeon. One who also must hope to purge the world of ignorance! A noble pursuit. Or perhaps, they'd realized their own ignorance and sought to rectify it some of the Aeons were rather lackluster in this manner after all. But they'd likely never change in their ways.

And you're no longer looking at him, that's fine. Is it a bit more chilly in here or is it just him? An interesting side effect of your gaze then, the feeling of warmth. He wondered why that happened, the look of Nanook was dangerous and suffocating, near fatal for any mortal. That of Yaoshi's was said to be sickeningly sweet and suffocating as well. Nous' was cold and calculating, judging your every asset and whether or not you had potential. Everyone had potential, they just had to choose to rid themselves of their ignorance. If the gaze wasn't suffocating maybe... you were a weak Aeon? One that had just formed or had been thought to have died.

Interesting. Aeons, the topic no scholar knew completely about. Herta was researching deeply into them, Dr. Ratio supposed he could always ask her yet he didn't want to feed into her ego. There were other ways to get the information though.

Guinaifen

"Hello, hello! Can you all hear me? Good morning fam! And welcome to Little Gui's stream!"

It was then when Guinaifen suddenly felt warmth wash over her. Oh, maybe it was because this stream was her first normal one after all the ghost catching business but she found herself getting flustered...? Flattered...? She wasn't sure exactly how to describe it yet she felt even more energetic than usual! As if she could go on for hours! When she ended her stream, the warmth was still there and she still felt as if she was being watched.

Wait-- wasn't this how people said they felt when they were being watched by an Aeon? Something similar to this right?! If even an Aeon was watching her, she was definitely going to be famous! When Guinaifen went to tell Sushang about this news, she found Sushang had run into the same thing! Weren't the two of them an impressive pair? :)

E1 Asta

Research had been going smoothly, partly thanks to the eyes always observing Asta. With them came the warmth that brought confidence and innovation she felt she wouldn't feel otherwise. But, she could feel the warmth all the time now. She doubted an Aeon would be able to watch her all of the time so had she been blessed? That was good, she was able to focus on all the stars and her research more now and learn more in less time!

But... why did she feel so forlorn? As if she had been deserted? Had you just blessed her and moved on your way? Herta... Herta knew a lot about Aeons maybe she would know something about what had happened to her, maybe she would know if you're still around.

E1 Yukong

Even after it all Yukong wished to return to the skies. Despite failing her comrades, despite all those around her who she'd cared for yet failed to stop their death, despite the burning wreckage she'd had to painstakingly crawl out of. Yukong wished to fly. In this long life where even the things she'd once loved had dulled, the longing to fly was forever there.

The warmth was on her constantly now, she completed her paperwork faster, she created ingenious plans, but what did it matter?

"I want to go back," Yukong had spoken one day out to the silence of the world and when the warmth remained she realized, perhaps she could go back and fly. Maybe... it would be okay. But for now her fear remained, albeit comforted by the sight of an Aeon.

What a strange Aeon, to care so much for a mortal.

Sampo (spoiler warning for Black Swan quest, although I was kind of confused the whole time so some information may be incorrect)

Now this would be fun! Sampo had known he was right, this was only another clue in the right direction! And this Aeon, watcher, player, reader, whomever you were appeared at the perfect time! Whenever your gaze fell upon him, he could feel his speed increase as well as the rest of, if this were to be a game, his "stats." He knew he wasn't crazy, of course he'd never had that idea in the first place! He'd be able to retrieve his mask much easier now, he could deal with you later.

It wouldn't be anything bad, don't worry, Sampo Koski is always happy to have a new business partner and friend :) !

If there's anything else you wanna hear about it I'd be more than happy for ideas cause I love these little guys (the characters) . It's just them living their life except they're stronger and feel as if they can enact their dreams! And maybe they gain a friend or a small crush on the way but hey that doesn't mean anything until Penacony comes out with some tech they worked on with Herta that allows you to visit in your dreams but no way something like that will happen, right?

Also trailblazer is genuinely so stressed like imagine having to make the decisions to save an ENTIRE FUCKING PLANET and you don't even know who the you are or what you've been through, you're genuinely so lost but hey you're alive, somehow.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Hey, neighbor

Pairing: Jason Todd x (f) reader

Tags: neighbors, close proximity, sexual tension, roommates, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, touching, fluff, domestic

Chapter 3: Spending so much time with Jason in close proximity is distracting. Poison Ivy breaks into the safe house and kisses you with her toxin, knowing you'll do whatever she tells you. And what she tells you to do...

You woke up in a strange place, disoriented and confused. You took in your surroundings: a loft with exposed brick walls, minimalist furniture, and a cleanliness that felt almost military. The events of the previous day crashed into your mind like a tidal wave, and your heart sank. The vial, the body, your formula. Guilt and fear twisted inside you.

You sat up, wearing clothes that weren't yours—an oversized t-shirt with a Guns N Roses album cover on the front and sweatpants, both too big for your frame. Red Hood had given them to you last night. You remembered his voice, calm and authoritative. You were in his safe house, you remembered. Hiding from the world that might condemn you for murder.

The door opened, and Red Hood stepped in, carrying a gym bag. Your gym bag.

He paused when he saw you awake.

"Morning," he said, his voice low, tired. You presumed he had been out all night getting your things. Then he'd confirmed, "I brought some of your clothes."

"Thanks," you replied, your voice small. You got up off the couch and accepted the bag and rummaged through it, finding familiar items. It felt strange, intimate even, knowing he had gone through your things.

Seeing you in his clothes did something to Jason. The shirt hung off your shoulder, and his sweats hung loosely at your hips, emphasising how much smaller you were compared to him. He felt a surge of adoration, mingled with a sense of possessiveness. He even began to regret bringing you your clothes, not minding the idea of you wearing his for a bit longer.

"I'm sorry about everything," you said, your voice trembling. "I never meant for this all to happen."

"It wasn't your fault," he replied firmly, his tone effortlessly intimidating. "You were set up."

You looked up at him, confused. "How do you know?"

He hesitated. "I don't. I guess you could say it's a hypothesis."

You recounted the events of the previous day, the death, the chance encounter with your professor. What if she had told someone she saw you.

What you were unaware of was that Jason had already broken into Dr. Harrison's place, gathering enough blackmail to ensure her silence. He figured that his threat and the broken wrist were enough to persuade her. He didn't want to burden you with those details.

"It's strange," you admitted, “you having to hide your face in your own home.” You looked down at your hands. "I understand why you can't reveal your identity, but..."

An idea struck you. Digging through the bag, you found an old silk scarf you'd sighted there. "What if I wear a blindfold? You could take off your helmet without me seeing you. You should be able to, anyway. It's your home, not mine."

Red Hood considered this. The thought of removing his helmet and letting his guard down was both terrifying and tempting. He took the scarf from your hands, inspecting it, and confirmed it wasn't sheer before handing it back.

You tied the scarf around your head, making sure you couldn't see anything. "Okay, ready."

You heard the sound of him removing his helmet, a soft hiss of released air. There was a moment, then his voice, softer now, more human. "Can you see anything?"

"No," you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. "It's completely dark."

“How many fingers am I holding up?” He put his hands in his pockets.

You tilted your head, trying your best to have a look, only to come up short. “I dont know.”

He smirked. “Perfect.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

“Can you think of anyone who'd want to sabotage you?” Jason asked as he guided you to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, taking out bread and butter. He was starving from his shitty night.

You considered his question, standing barefoot on the cool parquet of his kitchen.

You told him about your co-workers and lab partners and how you perceived behavior towards you. As you spoke, you heard the sound of pen on paper every once in a while, jotting down details.

You began to pace, making small steps as you tried to provide sufficient details. At one point, you stumbled, and he caught you, his arm wrapping around your waist to steady you.

He liked having you in his arms, feeling your warmth against him. He wished he could tell you who he really was, to share more than just his alter ego with you. But for now, this was enough. He would keep you safe, no matter what.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Jason watched you navigate the room with his guidance, the oversized clothes making you look cute in a way that amused him. He couldn't help but notice how you seemed out of place yet oddly endearing in his loft.

He remembered the first words you spoke to him last night, smiling to himself.

"So,” he began, feeling bold. “I'm 'your hero'?"

There was a teasing edge to his voice, and you felt a flush creep up your neck.

"I-um-well..." You stammered, trying to find the right words. "It was just... you saved me. Twice now, actually."

“Really?” Jason chuckled, a deep sound that made you squirm. "When was the first time?"

You bit your lip, feeling embarrassed. "It was my first year at uni. A group of us went out, and we ended up at a bar. And then some big, creepy guys circled me when I left to get some air."

Jason's attention sharpened. He didn't speak, letting you continue.

You took a deep breath. "I was scared, but then you showed up. You didn't even do much - you didn't soeak. Just lifted your guns and made a show of aiming them at them,” you chuckled at the thought. “And they ran. You were so badass!"

He smirked, enjoying your giddiness and the way you blushed.

You smiled, though he couldn't see it. "I never forgot that night."

Jason couldn't recall the incident, which made sense. There had been no fight, no trouble—nothing memorable. But hearing your story, seeing how much it meant to you, made him feel something unexpected.

"Glad I saved you twice," he said, his tone light but with a hint of seriousness.

You blushed deeper, fumbling with the hem of his shirt. The embarrassing part was that you'd imagined how you'd run into him again at least a hundred times in your mind. And when you finally did run, you babbled like an idiot, and on top of that, had pulled him into your trouble. “I just hate being so fucking helpless sometimes, you know?”

He stepped closer. "There's something you can help me with."

You blinked in surprise behind your blindfold.

"Help me investigate this. Find out who set you up." He said.

A lot was on your mind. You were grateful he believed your innocence. You were scared to touch the formula again, but you couldn't deny the burning curiosity to analyse it that circled your mind.

"Okay."

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Jason enjoyed the way you reacted to him, the way a simple touch could make you blush and squirm.

At times, he would conduct experiments of his own. Touches that to you could seem innocent and accidental, but we're entirely intentional.

One evening, after a long day of working on the formula, you and him sat together on the grey couch in his loft. His mask was off. You wore your makeshift blindfold. You'd gotten used to the silk scarf over the past few days.

“What can you tell me about Elizabeth Langstrom?” He asked casually.

You put down your cup of tea. "She's my head of research. She's really smart. I go to her for help."

"So she's a mentor to you.”

“Mhmm,” you nodded.

“When was the last time you saw her?”

You thought about it. “She came over to drop off some samples I asked for… before I went out to the club.” You realised out loud.

He hummed. “Did she give you anything before you went out that night? Something you might have overlooked?"

You hesitated, the edge in his voice making you shiver. "No, I don’t think so."

Jason leaned in closer. You felt his body heat closer to you. "Think carefully. Could she have slipped the vial into your purse?"

You were quick to deny his acusation. "No, she wouldn’t do that. She’s always been kind to me."

Jason’s fingers brushed lightly against your cheek, his touch lingering with an unsettling intimacy. The closeness and his commanding presence made your heart race.

Her reactions are priceless, he thought, Every flinch, every stammer—it’s all so… fascinating.

You were trying so hard to hold it together.

"You sure about that?" He continued, his voice smooth but carrying an edge. "People wear masks, y/n. They show one face to the world while hiding another. I think she could be hiding something from you. And I think you think so too.”

You felt your skin flush, your voice trembling. "I don’t believe she would. She’s always been kind."

Jason’s hand trailed down your neck, his fingers grazing your skin with a deliberate, chilling touch. The intensity of his presence, combined with the lack of sight, heightened your vulnerability.

She’s scared… why? he mused, although I suppose it could come in handy… fear makes people easier to control

It sure worked on Harrison. And half the crime scene in Gotham, who he held in the palm of his hand. But he didn't want to control you, did he? He craved control in every aspect of his life. But with you… he wasn't sure…

His proximity and the deliberate nature of his touch made it difficult for you to think clearly.

"I- I don’t know." You swallowed. "Maybe she did, but I can’t be sure. Why would she betray me?"

"People betray each other for all sorts of reasons," he said. "Maybe she wanted something you had, or maybe she was pressured into it. I need to find out the truth. Can you remember anything else?"

You searched your mind. "She didn't seem threatened. She was calm. The same she always was. We had a good talk about my thesis. She said that I could change everything." You smiled at the memory.

Your giddiness was cut short by a mental image of the dead thug, branches sprouting out of his body.

"It could" his voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

"I need to talk to her." You spoke up suddenly, conveying the urgency in your voce. "I need to hear her thoughts about the formula."

"I cant let you do that." He interjected.

"I trust her, red." You insisted, trying out the nick name for the first time.

"Trust is a luxury we can’t afford." He responded. "We find the truth, or we pay the price."

“How do I know I can trust you then,” you whispered in challenge.

“You can always trust your instincts y/n.” He explained. “And your instincts are telling you I would never hurt you.”

The intensity of the moment left you unsettled. Because he was right.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The next evening, Jason decided it was time to investigate Elizabeth Langstrom's apartment. Armed with the information you had given him, he made his way to the upscale part of Gotham where she lived.

Meanwhile, you were home alone. Comfortable in one of your short sundresses, trying to distract yourself with television.

Suddenly, you felt a gentle but firm hand turn your chin. Before you could react, a pair of soft lips pressed against yours. You jumped back in surprise, your heart racing as you recognized the intruder.

"Dr. Langstrom?" you gasped, staring wide-eyed at your head of research. Her presence was unsettling, her sudden appearance leaving you breathless.

Dr. Langstrom smiled, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Y/N," she chastized softly. "You haven't come to speak to me for the past week. Is everything alright?"

You had too many questions. How had she found out where you were hiding? Why did she kiss you? How did she break in?

You tried to step back, but the room began to feel dreamlike, your head spinning. An inexplicable wave of happiness and vulnerability washed over you. You struggled to piece together what was happening, the suspicion growing in your mind that Dr. Langstrom had somehow drugged you.

"What are you doing here?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling but laced with a giggle.

Dr. Langstrom’s eyes sparkled as she avoided your question, instead reaching out to caress your cheek. "I just wanted to see you," she cooed playfully. "I’ve missed you."

Her touch was both soothing and unsettling, the drug making you pliant to her manipulations. Your thoughts became hazy, and you found yourself smiling, unable to resist her advances.

"I want you to do something for me, y/n," Dr. Langstrom whispered, her lips close to your ear. "I want you to kiss the Red Hood. Until you’re both breathless."

The words echoed in your mind, and despite the sinister undertone, you found yourself nodding, feeling oddly agreeable. "Kiss the Red Hood... until we’re both breathless," you repeated, the drug making it seem like the most delightful request.

Dr. Langstrom chuckled, a playful edge to her voice. "Good girl. Now, forget that you saw me tonight. You never saw me."

Her words seeped into your consciousness, the command taking hold as the drug dulled your senses. You nodded again, feeling the fog of forgetfulness settle over your mind.

"I never saw you," you repeated obediently, a blissful look on your face.

Dr. Langstrom gave you one last, lingering caress before turning and leaving your apartment. You stood there for a moment, the room spinning around you, before collapsing onto the couch, your mind a haze of happy confusion and compliance.

You waited eagerly for the moment he'd come back home.

[sweetdreamr]

if everyone in ragnarok had been in character

*Surtur scene*

Thor: Wait, is this a thing I do? Talk to myself? Have I always done this? It seems rather unhealthy.

Peter Parker: WOW, that’s judgey.

************************* *The Tragedy of Loki scene*

Loki as Odin, lounging around eating grapes: And that, my subjects, is how a total dipshit would impersonate me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have actual ruling to do.

**************************

*Tragedy of Loki Part 2*

Thor: Nothing will stop Mjolnir, even your face.

Loki as Odin: That would be terrifying if I didn’t know how to do this *fucking vanishes*

Thor: Fuck, I forgot he can do that.

**********************

Sidewalk scene:

*portal opens up underneath Loki*

Loki: *turns into a bird and flies above said portal*

Dr. Strange: Fuck, I forgot he can do that.

***********************

*Odin’s death scene*

Odin: I love you, my sons.

Thor: ....are you telling me, Father, that you made no plans in the event of your death? Which was inevitable, because as you yourself once said, “We are not gods. We are born, we live, we die.”????

Odin: *fucks off into glitter no that is seriously what happened*

Thor: That’s very pretty, Father, but I’m still angry.

Loki: Now I’m REALLY not sorry I sent him to Shady Pines.

**************************

*after elevator scene*

Thor: Hey, what’s that on your back?

Loki: Oh come on, that’s the oldest trick in the---

Thor: Never mind, it’s just your hair. *picks it off Loki’s shoulder*

Loki: For a moment I thought you were going to attach an obedience disc to my back and leave me convulsing for the Grandmaster to find and presumably melt.

Thor: That greatly offends me! Only a complete ass would do such a thing! The only way it could be worse is if I made a self-aggrandizing speech about heroism and change while engaging in an act of torture!

Loki: That would indeed be nonsensical. Nearly as bad as me plotting to betray you for mere coin. And confessing to it, before I am safely out of the way of your inevitable counterattack.

*both stare at the camera like on The Office*

**************************

*Hulk turns back into Bruce*

Bruce Banner: *completely freaking the fuck out* Wait, what do you mean I’ve been murdering slaves for the past to years? The whole reason I left Earth was to keep from hurting anyone else! Are we going to address this at all? At any point? Ever?

Thor: No, apparently we are to engage in ten minutes’ worth of jokes about the anal cavity of one called the Devil.

Bruce: .....wHAT?

****************************

*after being promoted to Executioner* Skurge: Um, my queen?

Hela: Yes?

Skurge: Why does the Goddess of Death need an Executioner? I mean, you can pretty much kill with a touch, right? You rule over the realm of the dead?

Hela: ...you know what? I’m honestly not sure.

Skurge: I mean, if having a fuckton of swords makes you the Goddess of Death, does that mean that if I  go to CostCo and get a cartload of drain cleaner, I’m the God of Death?

Hela: .....

*********************************

*Surtur destroys Asgard*

Korg: Whoops there goes your foundation.

Asgardians: Who the fuck is this asshole can we just grieve for our entire civilization in peace for ten seconds

[imagining-in-the-margins]

CM Damsel/Dude in Distress Fics

Hey everyone! I want to start by saying thank you so much to everyone who participated - it was so much fun to write alongside you all, and I can’t wait to share everyone’s hard work. You are so appreciated, and the diversity only makes these events better.

Without further ado, here are all of the entries + recs for the Damsel/Dude in Distress Challenge!

S.R. SFW Fics (Fem!Reader)

Kryptonite by @foxy-eva: Spencer asks you to rescue him from a very scary spider in the bathroom

Safekeeping by @/foxy-eva: Spencer is there to protect you when a situation gets out of hand. 

Funny Thing Fate by me: Reader is tipsy and lost in D.C. when she spots a man she thinks might be able to help.

Rib Cage by me: Spencer realizes Reader is the one, but it might be too late. He has to find her.

I Choose You by @ofwilliamandwalter: What happens when the lowly stable boy, Spencer, and the royalist of princesses, Reader, fall in love?

So, a Wedding? by @ssahopelessly: Reader had the invitation for nearly three months, but she didn't take the time to find a proper date.

The Found Part of Lost by @ssahopelessly: When on the way back to the station, you and Spencer find a friend on the side of the road.

Explosion by @c-m-stuff: Reader and Spencer are married. When Reader risks her life, Spencer is relieved she's still breathing.

Rose Coloured Lens by @alleyholls: Reader cuts her finger while cooking and Spencer bandages her up.

But it's Better if You Do by @fortheloveofwonderland: The absolute last thing Spencer needs is to fall for you, the magnetic exotic dancer who Morgan and Luke pay to give him a birthday dance.

More fics below!

Assorted SFW Fics

Never Let Me Go by @/foxy-eva: [Tara/Reader] Who knew how easy it would be for Reader to find comfort in Tara’s arms.

The Friendship We Have is a Rare Find by @/cherubcurls (Ao3): [Spencer & Penelope] Penelope and Spencer agree to meet up to have a study session before finals, but they end up not studying at all.

Peas and Love by @/masterwords (Ao3): [Hotchgan] Hotch hurts his back and Hank takes very good care of him.

I'll Do It by @tobias-hankel (Ao3): [Hotchreid] Hotch saves Spencer from an interrogation gone wrong.

He'll Say He's Just Not the Same by @spencer-reids-adventures (Ao3): [Hotch & Spencer] Spencer suffers a depressive episode, and Hotch comes to check on him.

Who's Afraid of the Bogeyman? by PandorasDreaming (Ao3): [Spencer & BAU] When Spencer is kidnapped by Mr. Scratch, they must race against time to save him before his mind breaks.

Saved from the Rain by @leahseclipse: [Spencer & 10th Doctor] Spencer has an encounter with a strange man who saves him from the rain.

I Get By by @/GarlicBreadforJuliusCaesar (Ao3): [Gen Fic] The one where Spencer has a fight with a vending machine, and the BAU chip in to help.

Co-Creator Bonus List!

SFW Gender Neutral Reader

Kitten Love: Spencer’s vet begrudgingly agrees to an emergency house call.

Diamonds: Spencer comforts Reader when they have a bad pain day.

Rotten: Reader struggles to feel at home in their body following a trauma.

Melancholia: Reader has been acting weird lately, so Spencer makes a much needed wellness check.

Storm: Reader has a panic attack.

Bruises: The team is concerned when Reader shows up with bruises on their neck.

SFW Female Reader

Astraphobia: SSA Reader and Spencer share their most embarrassing fears.

Different Dialects: Autistic!Reader. Spencer is trying to tell Reader he likes her, but it feels like they speak entirely different languages.

Porcelain: Autistic!Reader has a meltdown in the cafe. Luckily, there is a Dr. Reid nearby.

Baggage Claim: Autistic!Reader is having a hard time at the airport.

Stranger Danger: Reader is a single mother having a very bad day.

From the Tree: The kidnapping case becomes personal when Spencer and Reader get a call from their nanny.

NSFW Female Reader

It’s Too Cliché ❤️: Reader and Spencer are the worst at friends with benefits. After an exchange of gifts & nasty words, the two reunite on a very eventful NYE.

Cupid & Psyche ❤️: Reader and Spencer get kidnapped by a rather romantic matchmaking unsub who demands they perform for him.

Big Bad Wolf (Part 1, Part 2): Spencer is overwhelmed by the apparent innocence of an elementary school teacher he meets on a case.

Thank you for writing and reading with me.

Let me know if you'd like me to add your story to this list!

[lokidokieokie]

Change is Never Easy

Summary: The two of you called it quits a month or so ago...and then Y/n faints during a shift. Change is never easy.

Pairing: Surgeon!Strange x Fem!Nurse!Reader

Warning(s): ex-lovers, exes to lovers(?), fainting, unexpected pregnancy

The atmosphere at General-Metro had quickly become thick with tensions ever since the breakup. Dr Stephen Strange and Nurse Y/n L/n had officially called it quits a few weeks ago, and the lingering awkwardness between them was impossible to ignore.

Navigating the hallways was like tiptoeing through an emotional minefield.

Y/n, nursing her wounded heart, did her best to keep up appearances during her shifts. She tried to focus on her tasks and avoid any unnecessary encounters with Stephen.

The air of the hospital was constantly charged with unspoken words and unresolved emotions; and the slightest interaction left both of the medical professionals on edge.

On one fateful day, while Y/n was basking in her lunch-break, the build up of the emotional strain proved too much. In the break-room, surrounded by the hum of vending machines and the distant chatter of her coworkers, Y/n collapsed.

Panicked voices echoed through the room as her coworkers rushed to her aid.

---

The current events of Stephen Strange's ex did not reach him until later on in the day, courtesy of one Christine Palmer, who had intercepted him in the bustling hallway.

"Stephen, have you gone to check on Ella? Something happened to her during her shift, and I haven't had to opportunity to see her yet," Christine whispered urgently, concern etched into her voice.

Stephen's brow furrowed in confusion. "What? No, I haven't. Is she alright?"

Christine briefly briefed him on the situation before she got paged to another emergency, prompting Stephen to abandon his current path and seek out Y/n.

When he found her, lying down in a quiet corner of the hospital, seemingly alright, the relief on his face was undeniable.

Slowly walking over to her, he brushed a stray hair out of her face. "What happened to you?" Concern prominent in his voice as he dragged a chair over.

With a flutter of her eyes and a shaky smile, Y/n greeted him. "Hey, Stephen. I don't really know what happened. I just felt incredibly dizzy, and then everything went black for a moment. I'm probably just dehydrated, I'm sure everything is fine."

Stephen raised his eyebrows, and his professional instincts kicked in. "People don't just faint for no reason, Y/n. I'm going to order a few tests to make sure."

Before calling in others, Stephen quickly did an examination, asking her about her symptoms and taking note of her vitals.

As Stephen focused on the exam, Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. Their interactions were once filled with warmth and familiarity. Now, they were tainted by the awkwardness that hung in the air like a heavy cloud.

She was broken from her thoughts by Stephen's sigh of relief. "Physically, you seem find. I'm still getting other tests done to be thorough."

Y/n nodded, appreciating the concern emanating from her ex-lover. "Thanks, Stephen. I appreciate it."

---

It was probably about fourty-five minutes later when Stephen was given Y/n's test results. His eyes scanned the report, his expression changing from professional concern to surprise. Y/n, being curious and anxious about what he had seen, couldn't help up speak up.

"Stephen, what is it? What's on the report? Am I okay?" she pressed, her eyes searching his chiseled face for answers.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Stephen finally spoke, his voice a mix of disbelief and realisation. "Y/n, you're...pregnant."

Time seemed to still as the revelation hung in the air. Y/n's eyes widened, mirroring Stephen's astonishment. The awkwardness of their recent breakup was momentarily forgotten as they processed this unexpected twist of fate.

"Pregnant?" Y/n repeated, the word feeling foreign on her lips. "But we were careful?"

Stephen's mind raced, still processing the news. "Well, it seems we have to blame the twisted mind of the universe for this."

~~~

A/N So...I'm back from the dead 🙃 Sorry for another hiatus, Uni sucks, but I'm on break now :) Hopefully I can write more...but I'm me sooooo, please don't get your hopes up. BUT, there will be a part two of this that I have already pre-written so...

taglist (lemme know if you want to be added or removed) @thewaithfuckingannoyme @evelyn-kingsley @moonlight-ee @fall-myriad @ironstrange1991 @asgards-princess-of-mischief

sorry if you weren't added and had asked to be, I lost my taglists :(

[irontragedyreview]

I was waiting for the official translation of this chapter because I wanted to know what meaning they were going to give to this phrase and since I don't know Japanese the most accurate thing I will get is the official translation.

At first I was going to take just Shoto's panel but in the end I decided to also take the previous one because the phrase "there's sure to be a period of chaos the books don't talk about", this phrase plus the way Shoto talks about the lack of a symbol and how a person like Afo born or emerges from them, it’s something that left me thinking and a little uneasy, because while I understand what Shoto says, it makes me wonder how much these kids know about their history.

What I'm trying to get is that the concept of Horikoshi's pre-Quirk society isn’t original, in fact it can be found literally in the X-Men comics, I would even say that you don't even have to go to the comics, The X-Men movies of the early 2000s showed us the pre-quirk society of bnha, the first scene of that movie is Jean Gray speaking in front of Congress against the anti-mutant registry, throughout this debate the question that makes Jean's words lose power is "Are mutants dangerous?", the question itself is unfair because Jean answers is that everything has the potential to be dangerous, even a teenager driving a car, the reply is that those cases can be regulated but mutants are an unknown and therefore a danger as they can’t be controlled. The original trilogy has this presentation to a society fearful of mutants, the end of the trilogy is the invention of a cure against the X gene, which is discovered through the experimentation of a mutant child (Chisaki arc). This is later taken up in the films that focus on being prequels, in X-Men days of future past where we meet Dr. Trask whose introduction is him explaining how the evolutionary chain of the human being was, how those more evolved ended exterminated their less evolved ancestors, the mutants here are the next evolutionary step and all those born without the X gene are the least evolved, who in Trask's words will only follow the same path as their ancestors before.

Now, whoever reads this will say "why is this story important and what does it have to do with Shoto's words?" Well, it's that Shoto's words, plus the panel that refers to those events that are outside the books, they make me wonder how the UA students know history, because they live in a society where the supremacy of the quirk is what is imposed, they didn’t live in first stages and we know little or nothing about how this stage is told to the generations that followed. Afo, Yoichi, Kudo and Bruce were born in the first glimpses of quirk society, however there is something that is interesting and that is that Kudo doesn’t represent a front against discrimination to people with quirks, they were a revolutionary army againts Afo, Yoichi himself never thinks about the discrimination and mistreatment of quirk people in the society in which he grew up, which is incredibly strange considering that he witnessed his brother killing a group that planned to kill them for recognizing that Afo belonged to that new generation of people. The pre-Quirk society carried out practices of discrimination and perhaps even death of people they considered dangerous, the majority of quirkless people in the old society were terrified of the quirks and their response was to attack the unknown. Ofc, we can only talk about Japan since we don't know what happened throughout the world, from what we can see the glowing baby was not considered dangerous in China, or perhaps there were certain quirks that were less inconvenient than others but in Japan we can see that there were groups against people with quirks.

Now, returning to Shoto's words, the big problem of the society in which Afo was born is not the lack of symbols, the chaos of pre-Quirk society was based on fear and discrimination of an unknown other. The times after the first stages are unknown to all readers, we only know what Horikoshi said, we also know that the society where Toshinori grew up and decided to become a symbol of peace was also very different. All Might is presented to us in the manga as the first symbol not only of peace but also as the first symbol of society, although Banjo is one of the first group of heroes who aren’t what we know as vigilantes (please correct me if I'm wrong). ), it isn’t until All Might and his long career that the society of heroes as we know it now is consolidated. All Might is the symbol and only pillar where this society stands and that explains how weak a symbol that shapes society can be, because once AM can no longer act as such, that is when society breaks down. In the movie Catching Fire there is a very interesting conversation between Snow and Katniss, where Snow tells her that Katniss' behavior cannot be ignored, because if people thought they could face the Capitol without fear, eventually the system would collapse and Katniss responds "what a fragile system if it collapses because of a few berries"

With all this I’m trying to say that having a symbol or not does not end up being a factor of true stability, AM or rather Toshinori renounced every aspect of his personal life to become the symbol of peace and bear the weight of society, but his figure was the only thing that kept society in order, the symbol of peace was fragile and only hid a broken and corrupt society, this isn’t AM's fault, the problem is that when Shoto talks about the lack of a symbol doesn’t finish internalizing that society with a symbol didn’t work either, because the symbol was only represented in a man and when he could no longer take his place, Endevor could have been the number one hero but he isn’t a symbol at the level of AM, no hero could fill that place.

So, is it the lack of symbol that allows chaos to be generated? Or is the function of a symbol to create stability? What happens when the symbol is more revolutionary and generates chaos or confrontation? This is where I may sound controversial but Afo could have been a symbol for the people he "helped", in a twisted way he was a symbol of refuge for people who were rejected and found with him a place to belong or even a solution to be found, someone that could take away the quirk that made them different in that society, Tomura is a symbol for those who didn’tt fit into society, we saw that when in the previous chapters he said that he wanted to be the hero of the villains, when we saw panels of people who said "Yes, Shigaraki destroys everything", Spinner is a symbol for the discrimination of heteromorphs even though Horikoshi neglected the issue.

So, in bnha there are symbols, the problem is that the heroes lost the symbol that gave stability to the society that they know, the society was sustained by covering its problems and creating its villains through the rejection and indifference of those who didn’t fit. The society of pre-quirks didn’t become chaos due to the lack of symbols but due to the systematic mistreatment of a minority where fear led to violence, Afo knew how to take advantage of those expelled at the time. It’s for all this that I wonder how much the UA students know about history and the formation of society, of course there could have been sides represented, for example like Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr, who could be symbols in that pre-quirk society but these wouldn’t have avoided chaos, since it’s formed by the discrimination of others considered different. The society of heroes in bnha doesn’tt need a symbol embodied in a person, it isn’t the lack of a symbol that generates chaos but the system, symbols can often be functional to the perpetuation of the same, instead of corrections to their shortcomings.

[ctrlsht]

Fragment of the Past | jungkook au teaser

pairing: patient!jungkook x psychiatrist!reader genre: thriller & yandere au

summary: You are a well-known and respected psychiatrist and a book author. You start treating Jeon Jungkook, who suffers from PTSD after surviving an extremely traumatic incident. As you help him confront his traumatic past, he begins to act strangely, and you start uncovering something about him that will change everything.

content and general warnings: patient and business owner jk, psychotherapist and author reader, mental disorders (depression, PTSD, ASPD), manipulation, crime, gaslighting, stalking, blackmailing, yandere. There are more, but when it comes, I will indicate it immediately. 

note: This fiction will contain multiple mental disorders. I conducted my own research to avoid spreading misinformation, but there may be aspects I've overlooked, so I am open for any corrections.

date of release: TBA. But most probably, within this month

preview:

You have to admit that there is something wrong with his words and actions. There are signs that he’s becoming manipulative and a sudden change of mood. He's self-absorbed and lacks remorse for others. You’ve been thinking that there are other diagnoses with his actions and behaviors however, you cannot suddenly show up and tell what other illness he has. You still have to observe your sessions with him. 

You have now freshen up and are ready to rest but you decide to visit your office to check your schedule for tomorrow and the following days. You only have one patient for tomorrow and most of your schedules are meetings. Before you log out on your computer, you glance at the folder of Jungkook in your patient list and you click it subconsciously. 

Jeon Jungkook, 31-year old male who suffers from PTSD, after surviving an extremely traumatic incident.

You pick up your phone, insert the cord that connects it to the computer, and then locate the file you're searching for.

Patient’s session recordings: Patient JJK: PTSD. Session 7 out of 12

You immediately transfer those files to your personal computer, and once the transfer is successful, you play the most recent file that was recorded a while ago.

“I’m not quite sure about that, Dr. Y/N. I may be happy right now, but later on, I’ll remember the tragic event once again.”

“It’s okay. It really happens. Healing from your trauma doesn’t happen in a short period of time. But eventually, you’ll be okay. It may not be right now nor tomorrow but one day,” 

“Will you leave me after I completely heal, Dr.?” 

“Well, that’s quite the opposite, Jungkook. You’ll be the one to leave me after our final session comes to an end. And as your doctor, I genuinely want you to heal and move on to continue living with your life.” 

“Then I’m not quite sure if I’ll be happy for our final session to come to an end.”

a/n: This fiction is inspired by the book "Never Lie" by Freida Mcfadden. If you've read the book, you may have an idea of how the story will flow.

[deansapplepie]

Till THE DEAD do us part | Chapter 4

A/N: This story will take place in all the seasons, but it’s not exactly a rewriting cause I’d have to re-watch everything to use the exactly lines of the characters, also I think it’s better if I tell a side story without changing the main facts of the story.

This story has a Female Reader, but I don’t describe her appearance, so anyone can identify with her.

Chapter 3 Chapter 5

Chapter 4: Pinky Promise

Summary: The group arrived at the CDC and were welcomed by Dr. Jenner, that asked just for blood samples so they could stay there. The group ate better than they have been eating in weeks and also drank a lot. Y/N and Daryl talk about the past while they share a bottle of whiskey and things get just a little bit out of control.

Warnings: swearing, little angsty, fluffy, alcohol consumption, sexual tension (?), a hot kiss 🥵, Minors do not interact. Nothing extremely sexual and detailed, but if disturbs you in any way it’s better not to read. Maybe some characters are ooc, idk 🤷🏼‍♀️

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader (Rick’s Sister)

Word Count: 2,877

Extra notes: I proofread the text, but English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any mistakes, of course with love. I’m consulting a timeline of everything that happened, but it can happen that I put events out of order, but I don’t think it’ll make much difference in the story. ALSO, I’m very nervous about the path this chapter went so I’d be glad if you told me what you think.

As soon as the door opened everyone entered, but there was no one. Where were the person that opened the damn door? After some minutes a man appeared, gun on his hand and he just lowered when you proved you offered no danger. His condition to give you shelter, was to take blood samples of all of you to examine. A fair price for a scientist, how could you deny?

After you picked everything you needed from the cars, the man named Jenner, closed the metal doors and you followed him to get your blood samples taken. You were not over joyed to get your blood taken, because normally your veins were pretry dificult to be found and people would end up torturing you with a needle until they found your vein.

“You’ll probably find my vein here.” You said pointing to a place one inch from your elbow. Yeah, your vein was easy found in a very strange place. “My veins are difficult to find, that’s why I’m telling you.” ‘And because torture is not my kind of entertainment’, you thought.

“Don’t worry, I’ll only do it when I’m sure I found it.” He tried to make you calm. And he didn’t lied, he really waited till he found it and then he collected your blood without much trouble or pain.

He took everybody’s sample and then took you to the kitchen. A full supplied kitchen with good food, alcohol, water and all the appropriate devices to prepare anything.

“Glenn, did we die and I didn’t notice? Cause this looks a lot like heaven.” You commented with the young man.

“If we did, I didn’t notice it too.” He replied. God! You didn’t think you would miss so much having a kitchen with all the appliances you were used to.

You prepared the food together and the drinks were served. Everybody was so happy, having a good meal, drinking and chatting. There was a long time you didn’t feel such a light atmosphere. You all joked and smiled, maybe the alcohol was helping a little.

“Hmmm, never thought I’d taste such delicious wine again.” You commented next to your brother.

“Go easy on the alcohol sis.” Rick told you, as if he knew how to drink.

“Shut up Rick, you know I can handle alcohol better than you.” You said making him have a good laughter, in no way you were a better drinker than him. “Hey! Let a woman have her dreams.” Everyone joined Rick on his laughter, brightening the room with joy.

Very reluctantly Lori gave Carl permission to taste a little of wine, and he hated, so she was happy. Glenn was getting drunk for the first time and all of you were encouraging him, even Daryl, which was really funny to see him all lose and even smiling, genuinely and openly smiling. Alcohol was a dangerous thing, but it could also show you things you didn’t know about other people, good and bad. You sneaked some appetizers to Luna, which she gladly took.

When dinner was over Jenner showed you around, there was rooms where all of you could stay, and bathrooms with hot shower. Oh my God, you couldn’t even remember the last time you took a hot bath. You claimed one of the rooms and went directly to the bath.

You took your time in the bath, washed your hair, let the hot water fall against your back and relax your muscles. It was so good, it had been only two months and you already missed this little luxuries from the old world so bad. When you finished drying yourself, you brushed your hair and put some comfortable clothes, your sleeping shorts and a tank top. Then, you missed something important, where was Luna?

You left your room and passed looking on the rooms that had the door open. You saw Carol putting Sophia to sleep and you couldn’t help, but smile. They deserved happiness and you were glad they were safe here, as you were glad you family was here too.

“Carol, did you see Luna? I can’t find her.” You asked her from the door.

“No, I just came from the rec room with the kids and didn’t see her. Maybe she’s with Rick or Shane?” She suggested, you didn’t know. You didn’t want her messing around in an unknown place.

“Ok, thanks. Gonna continuing looking for her. Have a good night Sophia! And you too Carol, rest yourself.”

“Have a good night Y/N/N” they replied.

You continued looking in the rooms that you could see open, but she was nowhere. You saw the door of Daryl’s room half opened and decided to knock, maybe he saw her somewhere.

“Come in” you heard he say, and you were not expecting the scene. He all cleaned up, a bottle of whiskey in his hand, his back on the wall, sitting in the sofa and Luna all over him.

“Am I interrupting something?” You asked playfully, Luna looked at you and swinged her tail, but she didn’t move from where she was.

“Not my fault she likes me better.” He took the bottle to his mouth all cocky.

“Seriously, I’m already thinking about giving you her custody. It’s obvious she doesn’t love me anymore.” You dramatized sitting on the sofa right next to him.

As soon as you touched the couch, she came all your way with her cold nose, and she laid on both your laps. “I think she wants to say that she likes us both.” You stated.

“Want some?” He offered you the bottle of alcohol.

“Is this even a question? Just give me the bottle Dixon.” You take the bottle and take it to your lips, whiskey was not exactly your favorite drink, but having the alcohol in your system was too good. Just not having to worry about being sober and ready to fight at any moment.

You stayed a long time in silence, just passing the bottle around and sipping from the drink. Here it was, that comfortable silence that you used to share and right now you could do it without worrying much. You rested your head back on the wall and looked at his profile, he was handsome and also cute, you felt kind of lucky for being able to take a look at this pretty serious grumpy face everyday.

“What did ya do before all this?” He asked and sipped on the bottle.

“You mean before I became a professional Zombie killer?” You joked, a bitter taste in your mouth having to talk about your failed career. “I was a vet. What about you?”

He looked at Luna and nodded like it made a lot of sense since you had Luna, but in fact anyone could have an animal. “I’d go around with whatever shit Merle was up to. In few words, I was a nobody. I had nothing as cool as you had.”

“Don’t say this. You weren’t a nobody. In fact, when it all happened, I was unemployed. So if you were a nobody, I was just like you.” Your head still resting on the wall, your eyes still on his profile and you thought how could he think so low of himself.

“Ya weren’t nobody, princess.” He turned to look at you and you swear that your heart skipped a bit when you looked in his cute baby blue eyes. “Ya just didn’t have a job.”

“So didn’t you.” He didn’t understand why you’d try to cheer him up and tell him he was more than what he actually was. Since he could remember he knew everyone thought that the Dixon’s were no good. Nobody wanted to be around his brother or him, and it didn’t change at the quarry. And why should it change now? He’d always be what he was, but you seemed to look at him with a whole different look than anybody else and you never told he was no good or a piece of shit… you mostly had good things to tell him, even when he was a dick with you.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, D.?” You looked at him and you almost could see all the gears working in his mind. You still looked in his eyes, both of your heads resting in the wall.

“Ya think I’m better than I am.” He also looked in your eyes and tried to see anything that showed you were fucking with him, but he didn’t. You were like Rick, you had honest eyes and couldn’t hide your emotions at all even if you tried. And at the moment you didn’t have any bad emotion in your face.

You wanted to say that he thought too low of himself, that he was better than he thought. You could see it, but it was not like you were good with words, and in the last 24 hours you got him upset more times than you would like, even if he was the asshole in one of them. Maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but you couldn’t put yourself to look away from his face, and now your eyes wandered all over his face, from his handsome eyes, to his lips, the small freckles under his eyes and the cute mole above his lips… God! You really wanted to kiss him, and your intoxicated brain could not think straight, if you were sober you’d never have the courage you were feeling at this moment.

He was no different from you, not that he had never spent any time admiring your features, he had done it many times. Your beautiful eyes, your nose, your lips and even your jaw. God, if ever existed one, he had thought more than he would like to admit about running his mouth over your jaw, your lips… kiss, lick and even bite your neck. But before, you were never this close to him and he had never got this drunk with you or near you. He had not felt like this before, like if he didn’t touch someone or were close to someone… he wouldn’t be able to breath. He thought it was pathetic, well that was what Merle would say, because feelings was something only pussies did. The alcohol in his body talked stronger than Merle’s voice in his head, and all he could think was that your faces were a few inches from each other and that he could feel your warm whiskey breath and the smell of your clean hair, and when you crashed your lips against his, he wasn’t able to control anymore.

You pressed your lips against his and you didn’t expect he’d kiss you back, you expected him to push you away and tell you to fuck off. But once your lips were on his, he kissed you back. Your hand went to his face and caressed him, while his hand went to the back of your head pulling you closer and you couldn’t help but feel more invested into the kiss, your lips moving in sync, your tongue caressing his bottom lip and he couldn’t help but open his lips and let you deepen the kiss, take your way, do whatever you wanted to do… He was completely at your mercy and at this moment he wasn’t even ashamed of admiting it, at least for himself. It didn’t take much longer for you to part from the kiss, you needed to breath. You pulled apart slowly, forehead against forehead, heavy breaths and rosy moistured lips. You were so into the kiss that you didn’t even noticed that Luna had gone to the floor, your bodies were much too against each other and one of your legs were on top of his.

When the reality hit, of what had just happened, he pushed himself to the farthest side of the sofa from you. “We shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have done this.” He got up and were about to leave the room, but you were faster holding his hand.

“Daryl, you can’t leave your own room.” You said getting up and trying to look into his eyes as much as it was possible standing up, since your height difference. “If someone have to leave, it must be me.” He didn’t say anything, red cheeks and trying to piece everything that just happened together. “I iniciated it. The fault is on me. Did I kiss bad? Did you not like it?”

“No, it was good. It’s not…”He tried to find his words, but his thoughts overflowed his mind while his brain separated the things he could say and the things he couldn’t. “We’re friends, friends don’t do it.” He had never called you a friend out loud, but this was the perfect time to say it instead of saying how fucked he was and how he didn’t know how to do emotions, he didn’t believe in love or that he could be loved, and how you two getting involved like this would just fuck the whole group.

“Well… when friends get drunk shit happens sometimes. Never happened to me, but… there’s a first time for everything.” You over explained a little, because you were kind of nervous. “It’s all my fault, don’t blame yourself and don’t worry too much. There was a long time I didn’t had a good kiss and you were just too cute... I’m sorry.”

“I did it too, ya don’t need to be sorry.” He averted your gaze, shy, still concerned with everything going on his mind.

“This will not change things between us, right?” You asked and he didn’t answer, still avoiding your eyes. Shit. Shit. Shit. You had probably ruined one of the few good things you had in this shitty world. “Daryl, promise you’ll not avoid me and we’ll still be the same.”

“Ya won’t rest until I promise ya something today, aren’t ya? What is it with ya and promises?” Why were you always asking things from him? At the same time he wanted to tell you to fuck off, he wanted you to be close, at least close enough so he could keep an eye on you.

“I just don’t want things to get odd between us.” You raised your hand in between both of you, all fingers down and just your pinky up. He looked at your hand and could not believe that you were doing it. “Ok, now promise that we’ll still be friends.”

“What are ya? Five?” Who in your age made pinky promises? Why did you have to be so… vivid? “Fine. Let’s make the fucking pinky promise.”

He took your pinky in his and then you sealed it with your thumbs. “Happy?”

“Yes, now I can rest assured that we’re still friends.” You smiled and he rolled his eyes, but deep inside he felt a small warmth and oh, he was so afraid of this, because he had never felt anything like that before and he had no idea of what to do with it. “Have a good night Daryl, and thanks for the drink.”

“Luna, come on girl. Let’s go to sleep.” You called for the german shepherd, she got up from where she was laying, got a lick on Daryl’s hand and waited for him do caress her head, after it she followed behind you to your room.

You closed the door, put your back on it and slided to the floor. You could still feel his lips on yours, his hand at the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair and the heat of his body. How could you ever have a normal life after this? It could sound dramatic, but there was so long you weren’t this close to a man… Years actually, you didn’t even get on dates after Paul and he never did you feel this good as just kissing and touching Daryl made you feel. Fuck. Shane was right, you definitely had a crush on him, maybe more than this. And you Y/N Grimes didn’t do ‘more than this’, not anymore. You didn’t even do ‘less than this’.

You got up and decided it was time to go to bed and try to sleep. Luna laid by your side and you snuggled to her. “What should I do Luna?”

“Woof!” She said and gave a lick to your face.

“I already did it Luna, and I don’t know if it was the correct thing to do. I didn’t even know if he liked it.” Anyone would think you were crazy, but talking to Luna from time to time kept your sanity in place. “I’m not you, you know?”

Final Note: Thanks for everyone reading, liking, reblogging and commenting, it’s really good to receive your feedback.

Taglist: @sunnybunnyy2

[defectivevillain]

this broken design, ch12

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader

summary: “Dr. Lecter?” You blink a few times, convinced that you’re dreaming. The man’s gleaming eyes and concerned expression seem a bit too realistic to be conjured by your sleeping mind, though. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look worried. You quickly decide that you don’t like it.

“Hannibal, please,” the doctor responds nonchalantly. You stare at him in utter confusion. Just what is happening right now? You thought you were dreaming, but this feels a bit too vivid. “What are you doing out here?”

read from the beginning here.

ao3 version | Spotify playlist

warnings: canon-typical cannibalism, violence, blood & gore

Hannibal eyes the clock on the wall. It’s nearly 8:00 p.m.—approximately the time that you should be showing up for your appointment. In the time Hannibal has known you, you’ve never been late to an appointment. 

It’s not like this is the first time a client has missed an appointment. It happens a lot, especially within the practice of psychiatry and psychology. Events occur, people contact sudden ailments or forget commitments… It happens. Yet, this has never happened with you before. If the client were anyone else, Hannibal would resign to sitting at his desk and sketching until the patient showed up or twenty minutes passed—whichever came first. An absence has never bothered him before, yet when he glances over at the chair across from him, he can find no better word for the sentiment. Absence. 

The clock’s hand shows no mercy. It spins mockingly from its brass confines, creating a subtle ticking sound that embeds itself into Hannibal’s very skin. He doesn’t understand this strange prickling feeling, this restlessness that eats at him from the inside. 

For a fraction of a moment, he hears the telltale movement of someone’s hand turning the doorknob to his office. Hannibal walks over to the door and opens it, only to find nothing on the other side. There is no one sitting in the lobby—nothing waiting for him save for the foreign feeling of dread he seems to be accruing. 

Hannibal spends the rest of the night resolutely refusing to read into your absence. It is a human’s nature to forget—you likely forgot to attend. He will follow up with a phone call tomorrow. You could have gotten called onto an assignment, too. Indeed, there are a multitude of rational explanations for your absence. Hannibal spends the rest of the night rifling through them in his mind, before firmly compartmentalizing any thoughts about you. 

The next day, he calls you again. You do not respond. Foreboding threatens to trickle into his psyche, but Hannibal pushes it away insistently. You are fine. You are likely busy with work, busy sleeping, merely… busy. Hannibal immerses himself into the sessions with his clients that day, pretending that he isn’t avoiding the unshakeable facts staring him straight in the face. You’ve never missed a session. You always answer your phone. 

He begins to grow accustomed to your voicemail message, to hearing the tranquility in your voice as you kindly tell him to leave his name and phone number after the tone. Days slip through Hannibal’s fingers and there is absolutely no sign of you.  

Something must be wrong, because Hannibal is soon summoned to the Bureau. Once he arrives, he realizes that he very well could have been the last person to see you. Hannibal cooperates with Jack Crawford’s insistent questioning and pretends not to notice the man’s evident annoyance at the utter lack of information about your whereabouts. Hannibal isn’t your keeper, and he tells Jack as much. Jack doesn’t take too kindly to the remark, however, and he elects to murmur under his breath in the corner of the room. Hannibal folds his hands in his lap and pretends not to be amused by all the fanfare. Amusement is far preferable to any other foreign, forbidden feeling clawing at the unmarred carcass under his skin. 

At some point, Jack steps away to take a phone call. Hannibal waits, with nothing but the insistent rhythm of the clock on the wall to accompany him. Before long, Crawford returns with a grim expression on his face. 

“I have some news you may want to hear,” Jack tells him. His lips are pinched and there’s an unreadable emotion lingering in his eyes. 

“Yes?” Hannibal asks. He already knows what he will hear. Indeed, he hears your name fall from Jack’s lips, with that tortured expression on his face—and he knows. Hannibal gets bits and pieces of the rest—Abel Gideon, abandoned residence outside Baltimore, a kidnapping. 

Somehow, there is little discussion about what will be done next. Jack regards him for a moment, before evidently deciding that his presence will be useful. Jack simply nods and turns on his heel, ever the leader. Hannibal follows, mildly surprised by the show of trust. He isn’t very close with Jack—has only invited him to his residence a few times for dinner. He sees value in having Jack as an acquaintance—another chess piece—and therefore quells his pride and follows after him. 

“Right under our noses, this whole damn time,” Jack sighs once they’re comfortably situated in the helicopter. The man’s jaw is clenched tightly. Hannibal recognizes that he doesn’t want to talk about it. He asks for details anyway. Crawford then recounts the phone conversation he had with you all those days ago. A maelstrom of irritation, amusement, and something far darker rages inside Hannibal’s mind palace. The ivory walls are crumbling and peeling. Dust falls from the ceiling every few seconds, coating neglected surfaces with more memories. He clenches his fist at his side, annoyed with the onslaught of feelings he had thought long buried. Hannibal can’t remember the last time he’s felt so…bored. Unfulfilled.  

They arrive soon enough and far too late all the same. The helicopter lands in a grassy field, across from a nondescript house that almost appears to be molding and decaying at the seams. Jack is quick to run to the front door, which has already been thrown ajar by the agents that must have arrived before them. Hannibal follows the man, turning the corner to find a dilapidated dining room. Wallpaper crumbles and falls from the walls, coating the floor in a truly unsightly amount of dust and debris. The room reeks of decay and death. Truly, the only indication that the room is meant for meals is the delicate, purposeful organization of plates and silverware near each seat. All the chairs are empty. As Hannibal blinks, he realizes he can see what the killer saw: a full table, listening with rapt attention and hanging off his every word. The head of the table is the puppetmaster, content to watch as everyone trips over themselves to earn his favor. Hannibal understands the vision, but the execution is rather lacking. His eyes travel from the table to the chair at the other head of the table with frayed ropes attached to the arms. 

Jack suddenly bursts into movement at his side, moving towards a figure collapsed against the far wall. It seems Jack Crawford only has eyes for his agent. Hannibal, on the other hand, finds his gaze searching for the one presence that is currently unaccounted for. Gideon was here; he’s dead now—at least, according to Jack. Hannibal warily walks through the hall before he stops in his tracks. Abel Gideon lies dead in the hallway, a bullet wound carving a neat path through the center of his temple. Blood colors the wooden flooring near him. The weapon is nowhere in sight. It doesn’t take long for Hannibal to comprehend what happened here. 

You escaped from your bindings. Chilton and Lounds were present, too. In an effort to keep them out of the crossfire, you stumbled back into the hallway. It’s a rather long passageway with several doors on each side—apt for concealment. Perhaps you stumbled into the closet on the right wall, or the tiny bathroom on the left wall, and hid as Gideon trailed you. Perhaps you stood there silently—a hand over your mouth as you tried to stifle your breathing. You only had a dagger; you knew that stealth and speed were your only advantages. As Gideon passed, you jumped out and stabbed the back of his neck. There’s a smattering of blood on the floor a few feet from Gideon’s corpse. You two brawled. Gideon, overcome with fury at your insolence, clasped his burly hands around your neck and squeezed. You managed to break free of his grip by stabbing him in the eye. You picked up the gun as he dropped it and fired it at his temple. A clean shot. 

Your dagger lies in the crimson puddle of Gideon’s blood. Hannibal feels himself reaching out to grab it before he can rationalize the urge to do so. He’s taken by way droplets of blood slowly slip down the weapon, catching the light briefly before falling down to stain the floor. He manages to suppress the unexplained urge. 

Jack’s voice draws him out of his thoughts. Hannibal remembers himself and turns his back on Gideon’s corpse, before walking to the dining room. He finds himself thrown into sheer chaos. Freddie Lounds is being questioned by a few agents. More agents are huddled around a dining chair on the ground. Hannibal takes another step forward and realizes that they’re surrounding Chilton, who is unconscious and mutilated. He is in a rather dire state, yet the sight of his mangled face only incites indifference within Hannibal. It’s laughably easy to conceive what happened there: Gideon’s grudge against Chilton prompted him to kidnap the man and mutilate him. The man had no intention of killing Chilton. Why would Gideon kill him, if he could instead ensure that Chilton lived as a mangled mess of limbs and skin in constant pain? 

Hannibal then looks over to the wall, where he finds Jack kneeling and speaking to someone. It’s you, he realizes. You’re on the ground, holding a hand to your side. You’re shaking and shivering, a glassy glaze over your eyes as you stare at Jack. Your hands are drenched in blood and your clothes are bloodstained. There are several markings developing near your neck—evidently from your scuffle with Gideon. You look frail—vulnerable in a manner Hannibal has never quite associated with you. Hannibal feels himself walking toward you before he can take another breath. He mimics Jack’s posture and glances at him. The department head looks uncharacteristically troubled. Hannibal wonders if the rumors of his favoritism for you are somewhat founded. 

There’s a scar ripping down the left side of your face, spilling bloodied tears down your cheek. It’s a gruesome sight—clearly performed to anger him—yet all Hannibal can fear is a strange sense of reverence. You look like a painting, a textured canvas brought to life in vivid colors. There are lacerations on your wrists from the ropes that kept you bound to your seat at the dining table. Horribly rude, Hannibal thinks. It is much more gratifying to entertain willing dinner guests. Evidently, Gideon didn’t fully grasp that notion. 

Within moments, the paramedics enter the scene. Hannibal follows the medic who is currently carrying you. Jack nods at him—a symbol of approval and reassurance. Hannibal nods in response, knowing what the man is trying to convey with the slightest gesture. Crawford is the head of the BAU—he’s needed elsewhere. Hannibal meets the paramedics in the driveway and they move you onto a stretcher. You’re wheeled into the ambulance. Hannibal finds himself faced with the paramedics’ questions: who you are, if you have allergies, what wounds you’ve acquired. He answers to the best of his ability and, with a subtle mention of his past as a surgeon, he’s allowed to accompany you in the back of the ambulance. 

As the ambulance speeds down the road, Hannibal reflects. Something about you eludes him, and he can’t quite figure out what it is. He wants to wind you up and see what makes you tick. Through your sessions, he’s built a rudimentary understanding of you. But… he wants more.Hannibal wants to know everything about you. You’re special. He’s met with dozens of clients throughout his years as a psychiatrist, but none of them have stimulated his mind as much as you have. 

You’re sharp. You’re never lost in his extended metaphors or hyper-specific references to the arts or academia; rather, you easily understand them and see directly past them to the root of his psyche. The thought provokes an equal amount of exhilaration and wariness within him. You look at him and you see him. You don’t see Hannibal Lecter, the well-read surgeon or Hannibal Lecter, the Chesapeake Ripper—although he feels you’re clever enough to have had a fleeting suspicion of him before. Your organic, effortless insight into his perspective is something Hannibal has been entirely unable to find anywhere else. 

Perhaps that is why Hannibal finds himself lingering in your hospital room, waiting for you to wake. The chair at your bedside has become his seat; even when you have other visitors, that chair is always left alone. He stays long enough to learn which nurses care for you during different shifts. He stays long enough to fall asleep with his hand resting on the mattress next to you. 

You’re still unconscious after a few days. Hannibal knows you must be in significant distress; he wonders if you unintentionally exacerbated your injuries during the fight. Your adrenaline must have been pumping—otherwise, he can’t quite conceptualize how you escaped with your life. Hannibal knows you’re a force to be reckoned with, but to his knowledge, Abel Gideon was, too. He supposes he is pleased with how things turned out—Gideon would have grown rather annoying. Judging from the scar on your face, Gideon wanted to confront Hannibal himself. It would have been a waste of time. Abel Gideon is far from the ideal prey; in fact, the ideal prey is now unconscious in a hospital bed next to him: you. 

Hannibal finds himself unable to dismiss such an opportunity. You aren’t getting too many visitors these days, since you still haven’t woken up. Hannibal reckons he has a few days before you’ll wake. That’s more than enough time to kill a nurse, take their scrubs, and enter your room unencumbered. Frighteningly easy, really. 

Perhaps that opportunity is why Hannibal finds himself looming over you in someone else’s skin, reaching for the scalpel to cut you open. Security around the hospital is laughably lackluster—Hannibal reckons he didn’t have to go to such lengths to conceal himself. Even so, he doesn’t intend to go to prison any time soon. Captivity would be a horrible bore. 

Your wound’s location is far too convenient, Hannibal thinks to himself as he removes your sutures. Surely, it would be foolish not to capitalize on it. With that recognition lingering in his mind, he pushes the scalpel to your skin and allows his vision to be flooded with the sight of skin, tissue, blood. His gloved hands move with practiced precision. He’s first greeted with the mesentery, which briefly impedes his access to the meat. The small intestine also serves as a momentary obstacle. Finally, after some manipulation, Hannibal finds the tube he’s looking for—the ureter—and removes a portion of it to free the kidney. His right hand almost moves on its own, reaching down and yanking at the organ. Hannibal puts your kidney in cold storage and then moves to stitch your skin back together. By the time he’s finished, your wound looks exactly the same as before. 

He stares down at you, before taking a slow breath in. That process was laughably easy. When you wake, you will feel pain—but that pain will be easily attributed to the gunshot wound. The nurses already performed blood tests in the days prior. With your normal functioning, it is very unlikely that the medics will order more tests. You likely won’t even wake within the next day or two. By then, Hannibal will have returned to his residence and feasted on the meal you provided him. Meanwhile, you will be reclined in your hospital bed, feeling none the wiser.  The thought sends a thrill down his spine and shivers down his skin. Hannibal can already envision the dish he’ll make: deviled kidney on toast. The dish is traditionally associated with breakfast, but Hannibal will likely eat it for supper. He has a loaf of fresh-baked panettone bread, which will pair beautifully with the flavors of the meat. He feels the insides of his cheeks stinging with salivation as he walks out of the hospital and leaves the receptionist with an amiable departing remark. 

Hours later, he sits at the head of his dining table with a beautifully constructed meal in front of him. Hannibal almost doesn’t want to consume it. It is truly a vision to behold. Hannibal gives himself a few moments to breathe it all in, before finally picking up his fork and letting it pierce the meat. The sauce coating the kidney dribbles from the piece on his utensil. Hannibal brings you to his tongue, his lips twisting in a morbid, macabre mockery of a smile.

next chapter

Thank you to my bestest friend and #1 Pinocchio simp, @pinocchiospissrock, for helping me with the medical stuff. I’m not the least bit knowledgeable about medical stuff, so if there are any remaining inconsistencies, they are absolutely my fault and I urge you to blink at them for a moment before moving on. Lol.

Some small lil details: Apparently, panettone bread is rather difficult to make, since the dough is very sensitive and the entire baking process is time-consuming. It made perfect sense to me, therefore, that Hannibal would both have a loaf on-hand and also display absolutely no struggles with the baking process, in true mysterious Hannibal fashion.

I used a lot of alliteration in this chapter, yes. You can rip it from my cold, dead hands.

“Looming over you in someone else’s skin” is more of a reference to Hannibal wearing someone else’s clothes. However, in Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal does actually wear someone’s skin, so… take that as you will.

“Hannibal brings you to his tongue” okay, buddy, take me on a date first. sheesh.

and we finally we got to some more cannibalism. *maniacal laughter escalates*

taglist (comment if you'd like to be added/removed): @its-ares @tobbotobbs @xrisdoesntexist @gr1mmac3 @tiredstarcerberuslamb @yourlocalratwriter @kingkoku @kahuunknown @atlas-king1 @pendragon-writes @slipknotcentury @cryinersaved @the-ultimate-librarian

[blog-name-idk]

The Plot Twist | 03

Written by @blog-name-idk and @eserethriddle

Summary: Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.

In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.

Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.

Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, crack, humor, idol!AU, light angst, slow burn, romantic comedy, just a fun silly old time

Rating: 18+

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Chapter 3: "I'm moving out."

You've never been a hypochondriac. Each time something strange and new occurred over the past week, you simply normalized it and moved on. But seven sevens mysteriously appearing on your skin the morning after your fever spell were admittedly too much, too eerie.

Something was definitely up.

So you went to the all-seer, the earthly keeper of scientific knowledge, the only place that could tell you what the hell was going on with concrete authority: NaverMD.

But then even you and NaverMD were stumped. Feeding your symptoms into the search engine reported a limited consensus of only two diagnoses. Dr. Naver, MD concluded that you either had a soulmate, or some extremely rare, spontaneous condition in which all your toenails will fall off and cause your eventual and sudden death.

Well, actually, no, the first diagnosis was cancer. But it always is, even when you're just constipated from too many snacks and too little fiber, so you discarded that one immediately.

Despite yourself, you found yourself leaning towards the worse of the two. Because somehow even the prospect of a bizarre, yet-unproven disease still seemed more believable than you having a soulmate.

And then you made your first mistake.

Oh, how simple life had been. You were just a wee child, trying to narrow down your suspicions, so young and naive. You never stopped to realize that some things were better left unknown, uncharted.

Like some theological figures before you, you couldn't resist the forbidden fruit of knowledge. Too drawn by the serpentine lure of instant internet search results, you plugged "7 tattoo" into Naver. And now you must live with your decision.

Because smoldering at you from behind your suddenly hateable phone screen are seven men widely considered to be amongst Korea's national treasures.

The thus-far revealed tattoo locations match some of yours, and you try to stave away the sinking feeling that the remaining others are just as accurate. Because that would mean…

…That would mean…

You have a soulmate. Soulmates.

Seven soulmates… who happen to be Bangtan Seonyeondan.

And that’s the moment your mind breaks.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

It's fine. You're fine. You are handling recent revelations with utmost grace and dignity.

Or at least you are sticking your pinky up as you completely obliterate a tub of ice cream in panic. It takes all the poise you can muster. Understandably. And then you almost throw up all that processed dairy back up, your stomach churning too much for you to punish it with cookies and cream like your usual comfort mechanism.

Why is this happening? Why you? You're not some chosen one, and you've never wanted to be the main character in some lame k-drama or fanfiction.

Maybe this is a weird prank your mother concocted to punish you for completely ignoring her texts and forgetting your "obligations" – i.e. popping out grandchildren for her to coo over. And that, to her well-meaning if conservative outlook, requires a well-established partnership and romance at the minimum. Your father must have let slip that you've skipped all of the group dating events she's been spamming your family group-chat with.

Your caring, loving, ruthless mother has picked your worst nightmare and brought it to reality, all to teach you a lesson. To try to ensure that you find love before you reach hagdom at thirty and must be sent to live shrouded in the woods, away from decent, beautiful society. (Her words, despite the fact that she herself is quite a ways past that age. Not that you would ever point that out. You value your life.)

The thought calms you, and you decide to vacuum the feathers from the pillows you destroyed in a fit of rage and madness. You needed to buy new throw pillows, anyway.

The loud drone of the vacuum soothes you further. Of course, having more than one soulmate is possible, but extremely unlikely. Having seven? Who happen to be the some of the most famous people in the world? That is as statistically likely as you winning the lottery seven times in a row. Probably less, actually.

Pfft! Soulmates? Hah! Nice try, eomma.

You have to hand it to her, she really had you going there for a second. You chuckle to yourself as you turn off the vacuum and go to empty it in the trash. Noticing your kitchen trash is full, you tie it off and carry it downstairs to the garbage room.

You feel oddly pensive as you carry the bag down. Perhaps something about the odor of the two-day old kimchi jjigae leftovers emanating from the plastic is addling your brain, because despite your rationalization you now can't stop thinking about the concept of soulmates.

It seems like there's so much that goes into a partnership, even with pre-destined compatibility. Sure, your parents are soulmates and love each other very much, but that doesn't mean their marriage is perfect. The equilibrium, the joy, the easy comfort they find in each other now is the result of many years of growing both together and apart, of being their own individuals who have learned to fit into each other like puzzle pieces.

They are soulmates, but their happiness wasn't fated. Perhaps the universe contrived for them to meet, but their bond was forged by their own hands. They chose each other.

You can't imagine ever giving someone the keys to your heart and trusting them not to disappoint you.

Or trusting yourself not to disappoint them.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

On your way back to your floor, you’re surprised to see your landlord with a guest when you step into the building elevator.

“Oh, great timing! Say hello, this young man moving in at 8004, right next to you,” your landlord says.

Your new neighbor is decked out in a bucket hat and oversized sweater ensemble. You see the moon tattoo peeking out from the back of his sweater and gulp.

That… That can’t be Park Jimin… right?

A split second, and that’s when everything you have been avoiding clicks with the finality of a key turning in a lock.

The call with Mijin, the anomalies you’d experienced, the comical twist of your recent everyday life.

It wasn't a prank.

And despite all the very real and terrifying things your mother is capable of, surely this coincidence is beyond even her ability to machinate. Which can only mean one thing.

You do have soulmates, and the universe has begun plotting.

But you… you refuse to do this. You’re not a little girl that the world can tell to spin in her skirt and flutter her lashes. There are things worth fighting against, and these things are love and the eventual disappointment of finding out that the person you adored is fallible and rife with flaws. All the more so when it's an idol with a perfect shiny image to uphold.

Despite your earlier post-Naver meltdown, you now find yourself strangely calm. This is a do-or-die situation, and you have never been one to go down without a fight. Your will shall not be bent, no matter what anyone says about "fate."

You realize your new neighbor is peering at you curiously, and you staunchly avoid his gaze. Your hair falls in front of your face like you're Sadako from The Ring, because you don't want him to remember any identifying features. Your landlord looks confused at your silence, but says nothing, and an awkward silence envelops the cramped confines of the elevator.

When the elevator finally, finally dings open, you refuse to wait and walk with your companions like a normal person. To both your landlord and your – ugh – soulmate's shock, you power walk out of there like you're an ahjumma heading to the store on discount day. When you finally make it to your once-safe haven, your now forsaken sanctuary, you slam the door behind you.

With your heart thundering in your chest, you look in the mirror and take in frantic breaths.

You decide once and for all.

“Let’s not fall in love,” you tell yourself, the promising ferocity in your eyes a hand-me-down from your mother.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Today is a good day, thinks Kim Jaehyung. The sun is shining, his wife is making his favorite oxtail soup for dinner, and he's finally managed to rent out the last vacant unit in his building. The new tenant is polite and, more importantly, has paid the entire lease up front without even needing any bank loans.

The only blip is his other tenant's odd behavior in the elevator, and the way you practically fled into your apartment. The new renter is a handsome young man – Jaehyung would have thought that a pretty girl about his age would have been happy to show him the ins and outs of the building. Though perhaps you needed to go to the bathroom – he's certainly had those moments.

"She's my neighbor?" the man asks, sounding curious, his gaze following the way you speed walk away from them.

"Yes! Right next door," Jaehyung replies, trying to remember the new tenant's name. He had just looked at the lease agreement, too! "She's normally very accommodating, so I'm sure the two of you will get along well."

As if to mock his statement, your door slams shut behind you. With a shrug, Jaehyung leads the renter – Park! That was it! Tenant Park! – to the door next to yours.

After showing Park-ssi his new apartment and handing him the keys, Jaehyung is in the elevator when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

You I'm moving out

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You're exhausted. You might have told your landlord you were moving, but finding a new place within your budget that doesn't come with charming qualities like decorative mold or live-in, six-legged pets is proving difficult on such short notice.

Why isn't Park Jimin of fucking BTS living in one of the more expensive areas of Seoul, anyway? Why would someone that rich and famous choose your cozy, decent little building? He's gentrifying your already gentrified neighborhood! You're too accustomed to the luxuries of upper-middle class life to be happy about being forced out.

So you've taken to leaving home absurdly early and working until late, in hopes of avoiding any run-ins with your soulmate neighbor.

Despite your best efforts, you have somehow managed to end up alone in the elevator with Jimin. You were already inside, and he was running for the door looking so frazzled you didn't have the heart to press the close button on him. Curse the universe for taking advantage of your kind heart and gentle, amiable nature.

"Thank you," Jimin gasps, clearly out of breath. A bead of sweat trickles down from his temple, which you definitely do not notice. "I forgot my wallet."

He takes off his mask to breathe more easily, and you try to look anywhere but at his plump lips and the way his eyes squish when he smiles at you. The universe may have all manner of nefarious powers at its beck and call, but that smile might be the deadliest weapon of all.

"No problem," you mutter, hoping he never sees you again and yet also wishing you had used more eye cream today. Thankfully, the elevator is fast, but as the door dings open somehow Jimin keeps pace with you.

"We didn't get a chance to formally meet," he says cheerfully, somehow keeping stride with you despite your best efforts to break the world record for fastest casual walk. "I'm Jimin. What's your name?"

The simple, completely normal question makes you panic. You've reached your door and you gaze longingly at the handle, dreaming of the safety that beckons on the other side. So near, but so far.

You unlock it, and realize he's paused next to you, awaiting your response. That violently sweet smile is still on his face, and you find yourself staring dazedly at him for a moment before snapping out of it.

You need to exit this situation. Immediately.

You open the door and look him dead in the eye. "I don't talk to strangers."

Swiftly stepping inside, you close the door firmly behind you and try not to dwell on the fact that he is just as beautiful with his mouth hanging open.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Jimin stares in shock at the closed door in front of him, wondering what on earth he did wrong. He just wants to be on friendly terms with his neighbors – well, especially the pretty one – but you seem to be avoiding him like the plague.

Maybe you're shy? Or slow to trust? Jimin doesn't think he's been doing anything threatening or overly familiar – certainly nothing to warrant the way you almost flee whenever you see him.

Then again, he's not a single (well, not that he knows whether you're single or not, but you seem to live alone, and haven't had any visitors of any gender despite being quite attractive, not that he's spent that much time thinking about whether or not you are single or anything) young woman living alone, so perhaps his judgment is biased.

Maybe he just needs to try harder! Show you that he really does have good intentions. Or would that be creepy?

It's been so long since anyone has treated him like this – just a regular, pesky person – that he can't help but be endeared.

And intrigued.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

These days even the temporary security personnel know your name. They know to expect you putting in overtime, but for today’s working hours you’ve completely outdone yourself.

It's late. Late enough that even for a workaholic Korean, you're the last one out of the office. You begin to make the trek to the train station, grabbing your keys from your oversized purse in case any weirdos try to follow you. Though then again, your bag itself could probably be a decent weapon – your building was updating and refreshing all of the first-aid stations, and so you have a bulky, metal kit weighing you down.

It would be kind of funny, actually, if you were able to injure someone with a first-aid kit. Something, something, irony.

You smile, mildly amused at the thought, but it quickly fades when you see a figure slumped on a bench at the bus stop. It looks to be a man, dressed in torn clothing, and when he shifts you see bruises littering his skin. His hair and eyes are hidden by the brim of a black baseball cap, and his features are otherwise also covered by a black mask, and you wonder if his face is also in bad shape.

You make your way closer, the kit weighing heavily in your purse, because you're an idiot who can't leave well enough alone.

"Do you need help?" you ask carefully, standing just slightly far away in case this is a violent person who's going to lunge at you. The man looks up in surprise, and you feel your lunch try to make a resurgence.

Because staring back at you with a black eye is Min Yoongi of BTS.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Yoongi exhales and slumps forward on the bench outside the photoshoot location, wondering why he's been feeling so off lately. It's not quite the same as the depression slumps he's used to – rather than numbness, it just feels like something is missing.

The only time the feeling recedes is at night, when the ghost of that strange lullaby whispers at the edges of his mind. Yoongi's put the basic melody to paper, but he can't get it quite right. Every time he tries, it's like some note eludes him, flitting out of reach just before he can grasp them.

"Do you need help?"

Yoongi almost jumps before looking up to see a prim, well-dressed woman gazing at him in a mixture of suspicion and concern. Your eyes widen at his face, and he can register the exact moment you realize who he is.

Fuck.

You look horrified, which is not the expression he's used to seeing from fans. You take a step back, half turning as if to run. Also not something that typically happens.

Yoongi should leave, return to the photoshoot, find his manager and tell him he's been spotted in case damage control is needed. Instead he finds himself strangely spellbound, staring as your jaw clenches and your eyes close. You set your shoulders as if steeling yourself for war and turn back to him.

You reach into your purse and he tenses, ready to hide his face for when you inevitably pull out your phone to try to take a picture of him with fake bruises all over his face.

To his utter bemusement, instead of a phone, you pull out a metallic-looking case and toss it at him without warning. Yoongi is too taken aback to do anything other than watch it clatter to the ground.

"What the–" he begins, but you whip back around before he can finish and take off as fast as your heels allow. "...Fuck?"

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

As far as obnoxious things the universe has thrown at you go, this one isn't so bad.

That's what you tell yourself as you stare at the very shiny, very pointy looking knife being brandished in your face in the alley you use as a shortcut home.

At least it's not a soulmate.

"There's no one here to rescue you, little girl," this apparent mugger gloats, and for a moment you actually feel a little flattered. Little girl? Really? At twenty-five? That's downright polite, honestly.

"Huh? Is everything okay back there?" calls a strangely familiar voice, making the both of you freeze. Thanks to your recent frantic googling and research, you recognize it surprisingly quickly, and you gasp and look your assailant dead in the eye.

"Kill me. Right now," you order, your voice leaving no room for argument. The maniacal glint leaves your attacker's gaze and he stares at you in confusion. And perhaps a little fear.

"Uh, what?"

"Fucking do it, bitch," you hiss, casting your gaze frantically behind him to see if the owner of the voice is coming to investigate. You point at your chest, where you assume your heart probably is. If you have one. "Right here."

"What the fuck, no, I just want your money?" he says in bewildered tones, beginning to back away from you. You hear footsteps from behind him, and panic begins to set in.

"DID I FUCKING STUTTER?" you screech, wanting your attacker to just hurry the fuck up already. Seriously if he wasn't prepared to stab someone why the hell is he waving around a knife? What a little bitch. This is the problem with youth these days – all talk and no follow-through.

"You know what, fuck it, just go," the guy finally says, dropping the knife to the floor. "This is too much for me. I should have just gone to trade school like my mom wanted."

"Whatever dude," you say with a shrug, taking the opportunity to gear up and sprint out of the alley. You pass a confused looking Kim Taehyung, and pat yourself on the back for avoiding another contrived situation the universe tried to force onto you. It can take its cosmic intervention theory and shove it up its black hole where the stars don't shine.

Unfortunately you don't realize that to Taehyung, time slows as you run by. The scent of your hair, the silhouette of your lips… he is utterly captivated. He can't help but to peek into the alley to see where you were coming from, and is surprised to see a masked man just standing there, staring blankly at the ground. Metal glints, and he's shocked to realize that it's not the ground that has drawn the man's attention, but a knife.

"Yeah, I'm not cut off for this," he hears the guy mumble as he kneels down to pick up the weapon. Taehyung tenses, unsure of what to do, only for the man to toss it into a dumpster. "I… I should go apologize to mom."

Had this man tried to attack that girl? Taehyung's fist clenches at the thought, an uncharacteristic flare of anger lighting his chest. Then it relaxes as it dawns on him that you must have talked the man down. Not just talk him down, but give up on his supposed path of crime entirely.

So not just beautiful, but intelligent too. Empathetic. You probably love animals, because he can already tell you're perfect.

For days after, he can't get the strange girl out of his head, or the smell of your flowery shampoo out of his nose.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You should have known. You should have fucking known.

"Eomma," you say carefully, lest you invite another scolding from your mother that leaves you equal parts guilty and offended. "This is a very strange place for auntie's birthday."

She purses her lips, managing to look simultaneously irritated with you and pleased with herself, and shoves you forward.

You sigh, resigned, and begin to walk inside the building with slumped shoulders, heels clicking morosely beneath your feet. Until the very pointed throat clearing behind you automatically straightens your spine in a lecture-induced response you have never been able to shake.

"Are you here for the dating event?" chirps the far-too-chipper woman at the front desk, face brightening at the appearance of such a lovely attendee. You force a smile in response, glancing over your shoulder to see that yes, your mother is still watching outside with her arms crossed.

You send her a wave that just makes her tap her foot impatiently. With a sigh, you turn around and nod.

"Yes," you respond with all the joy of a human sacrifice walking to their doom. "I guess I am."

The employee beams at you and pushes forward a form for you to fill out. When you check the box indicating that you indeed have been experiencing soulmate phenomena, because you're an idiot who can't lie even to save yourself, her smile grows even wider.

"It's so great that you're taking initiative," she gushes, oblivious to the way you are now grinding your teeth. "Some people think cosmic intervention will take care of everything, and never end up meeting their soulmate!"

God, goddesses, saints and shamans, whoever the fuck, you think silently. That is literally all I want.

For a moment the image of two spinsters laughing at your pain flashes through your mind, but it's gone before you can really register what happened. What you do notice is that your mother has left.

"Oops, I think I left my ID in my car," you say with a smile suddenly much more genuine than before. "I'll be right back."

The poor, unsuspecting attendant just nods, and you're out the door and around the corner just as a black Palisade rolls up to the building.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The store owner blinks in surprise at your appearance. It's broad daylight, and most of his customers are kids and teenagers. Grown adults don't tend to come here, other than the idol who thinks he's sneaky and the tired salarywoman who –

"Hey, Lee-ssi!" you greet cheerfully, sliding your game card out of your dainty purse. "Is there a new score for me to beat today?"

Lee Seungwon blinks again. You're wearing a sleek maroon dress that ends right above your knees, your hair is coiffed, you smell like a field of flowers instead of burnt coffee, and your face is powdered to perfection.

"[L/N]-ssi?" he asks tentatively. It looks like you. It sounds like you. But he wants to make sure, because you look far too perky for someone dressed like they're supposed to be on a date.

"Yes?" you reply, looking just as confused as he feels. "Is something wrong?"

"Er, no," he replies, accepting the game card from your manicured hand. "The usual? 2,000W?"

You grin and nod, prancing off to the Pacman machine with a bounce to your step.

Seungwon feels a strange sense of foreboding.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Seokjin is the best hyung. Obviously. He's handsome, he's funny, he cooks, he takes care of his brothers, and even drives them to speed-dating events that are objectively a terrible idea.

In fact, he's such a great hyung that instead of returning immediately home, he deserves a little bit of fun. So he heads to a familiar little establishment. Seokjin's managed to re-establish his place as number one in Pacman, but it can't hurt to fill up the leaderboard even more and show that immature punk who's boss.

The fact that he is a grown man in a silent war with a child over an arcade game wooshes gently over his fluffy hair.

Lee-ssi's eyes widen in surprise when Jin walks in, and the idol follows the dart of the elderly man's gaze to see a maroon dress and a very shapely backside. He stifles a sigh when he realizes it is parked right in front of the Pacman machine, and that he likely can't even ask the woman to hurry up lest she recognize him.

Then he realizes that she is inputting a name on the high score screen.

Right above his.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Masterlist | Next

[jaslan4f1]

Love at 300 km/h LN4 Part 2

Masterlist

Warnings: friends to lover kinda thing, fluff & angst (I actually cried while writing this)

Notes: english is not my native language so this may contain consistency errors, i would really appreciate the corrections but please, be kind. feedback is also appreciated ♡

Summary: You and Lando are close but neither of you tried being more than friends. What happens when you both finally realize that love is right infront of you?

~ This is actually a story related to my own life right know. I have a driver friend that I’m crushing on and some events are in this story. Haha

You never wanted Lando to race for points that badly in your life. Was he really feeling the same you thought? His quality hasn’t been so good yesterday. He finished P15 so he had to fight to come to P4. You wanted him to finish that high and he wanted to take you out properly. You listened to everything the commentator said. Lando was now at P8. Gasly was infront of him. “Will Lando get pass Gasly? And with DRS Lando Norris passes Piere Gasly. What a great race for the McLaren driver“ the one commentator said enthusiastic. „Yay Lando, he is surprisingly very determined to get some points and drive into the top 5. I wonder where this comes from?“ the other commentator responded. Just 6 more laps…will Lando manage to get to P4? But to your surprise Landos car got even faster and he even got passed George and Lewis. “Great Lando you doing amazing“ was what you heard from Landos radio. “Thanks guys the car is great and my motivation is even higher today. Lets keep pushing for P4“ was Landos respond. You smiled when you heard his voice. Moments later Lando was just one position away from P4. You prayed for a miracle that he will get passed Stroll. And then something strange happened. Aston Martin wanted Stroll to pit on the last two laps. That made Landos position clear. He was P4. “Yes baby I knew you could do it“ you screamed as you threw your fist in the air. Lando ended with that position. He could wait to call you and take the next plane to you. He couldn’t stop from smiling, even in his interview he was asked why he was smiling so much. “Oh you know the race was just very good and I just had a great motivator“ he teased. You knew that his fans were going to get crazy about his comment. You quickly took your phone and started to take some photos for him. You promised him to send him these if he finishes P4. You took a few pics till you were happy with on of them. You looked very cute in one of his perch hoodies. You didn’t even think twice and send him the pic with a little caption: “Hopping to hear from you after your duties. Call me x Y/n. PS: You did amazing <3“

“I think your friend just texted you“ Landos media manager told him and gave him his phone. Without thinking Lando opened your chat. He saw your picture. You were in fact wearing his hoodie but he could also see that you weren’t wearing any sweatpants. Your legs were just being covered by his oversized hoodie. When he read your caption he smiled. “You little teaser“ he said to himself. After the dinner he had with Carlos he went straight to his hotel room. He unlooked his phone and went straight to the Facetime icon. He couldn’t just hear your voice, he had to see you. “Lando?“ a black screen and a sleepy voice accepted his call. “Fuck did I woke you up?“ he didn’t thought about your time change. “You kinda did but its ok now I’m awake anyway“ you said with a raspy voice. He loved your sleepy figure and voice. You turned your light in your bedroom on and looked at your phone. Lando looked tried. “You look like shit“ you said and laughed. “Well that’s nice. Thanks I thought you wanted to congratulate me but that’s also fine I guess“ he laughed. You stoped laughing and looked at you. Even tho he wasn’t with you this moment it still felt like he was sitting next to you. “So in that case…congratulation to P4 mister Norris“ your shyly voice made Lando grin. “Thanks I would love to talk longer to you but you should sleep and I should too.“ Your smile faded. “I guess you’re right. Hear from you soon?“ you asked sadly not wanting to end this call just now. You guys wished each other a good night and ended the call.

Lando was at the airport waiting with Carlos and Charles for their private yet. “Hey mate why are you so nervous?“ Charles asked. “Well I kinda have a date with Y/N when I get back to Monaco“ both Ferrari driver looked surprised at him. “Wait Y/N Y/N? Your best friend Y/N?“ Carlos asked “Pierres ex friends with benefit Y/N?“ Charles asked. Landos and Carlos eyes widened. “What?“ Lando asked. “Lando calm down I was just probably just a joke right…right Charles?“ Carlos said and prayed that Charles would get the hint. In that moment Pierre walked by. “You slept with my Y/N?“ Landos angry voice cracked. “Ok guys I thought we agreed not to tell him“ Pierre looked to the Ferrari driver. “Sorry mate it slipped out“ both said. Lando looked back. “Wait you both knew and didn’t told me? You knew how much I liked her and that for many years“ tears forming in his eyes. You meant the world for him. He didn’t really liked Pierre but he also didn’t dislike him. But he hated to fact that you were intimate with another driver and haven’t told him. It felt like every moment he thought you guys were crushing on each other was fake. “If it calms you down it was just for 3 months and she ended it“ Pierre said. Lando rushed to the bathroom he had to hear it from you. He wanted to call you but that would be childish. He knew what his first thing in Monaco was going to be. And boy he hoped that it was a bad joke.

a/n; I know it got a bit sad but I swear it will all add up in the end.

[adventure-showdown]

What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

ROUND 2 MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

Master

Synopsis

Many years ago, on a dark and stormy night, the disfigured and enigmatic Doctor John Smith invited his closest friends, Inspector Victor Schaeffer and his wife, to a dinner to celebrate his birthday. A mere few hours later all the occupants in that house had been changed — some were dead, others mentally scarred forever by the events of that night.

So, what happened to the distinguished dinner guests on that evening? Perhaps we'll never know. But two clues have led to much speculation — found outside the study window, a charred umbrella with a curved red handle and found inside the house, a blood-stained copy of Stevenson's The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

For one person, this night represented an ending: an ending to one thousand years of darkness and an ending to ten years of light.

But for everyone else, is there no ending of this one night of Hell?

Propaganda

Iconic. Everyone knows this whether they’ve heard it or not. The audio that launched a thousand fanfics. (anonymous)

The Natural History of Fear

Synopsis

IT IS A CRIMINAL OFFENCE TO COPY OR ATTEMPT TO COPY ANY PERSONALITY OR MEMORY-RELATED ARTICLE SHOWN OR DISPLAYED IN THIS PUBLIC THEATRE, INCLUDING THIS WARNING. PUNISHMENT OR CONVICTION IS AN UNLIMITED REDUCTION OF AUTHORISED OVERTIME HOURS AND TOTAL PERSONALITY REVISION. YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO BRING ANY JUKEBOX OR RECORDING EQUIPMENT INTO THIS PUBLIC THEATRE. THIS WILL BE TREATED AS AN ATTEMPT TO BREACH COPYRIGHT. ANY PERSON DOING SO CAN BE EJECTED AND THE EDITOR MAY CONFISCATE SUCH ARTICLES. WE ASK THE PUBLIC TO BE VIGILANT AGAINST ANY SUCH ACTIVITY AND REPORT ANY MATTERS AROUSING SUSPICION TO THEIR LOCAL CONSCIENCE. THANK YOU.

Public Warning

Faction Against Character Theft

Propaganda

Paul McGann eats a rat .MP3 (anonymous)

[ro-is-struggling]

Goodmorning Ro! I wanna send in a request for your event but don't have much in the way of specifics so I hope that's alright? Besides, I don't remember that episode and would love to see where you take it if you take it. Anyway hope you have a good day!

Prompt: 9 (Part 1)

Character: Dr. Strange (Character B)

Genre: Comedy/Fluff/Light Smut(if inclined)

OMG I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO POST IT! Life got in the way and I had to stop writing for a while, but I'm back now! Thank you for your patience and I hope this silly little fic finds you somehow after all this time anon💕

I loved writing this one! I tried my best to combine the above-mentioned genres as best as possible, but idk, I hope I did a good job. I feel like I wanted to make it more of a crack fic at the start but then I got carried away and ended up being more spicy. I literally had to stop myself from turning this into a full on smut lol I hope you like it anyways!

THE CALL || STEPHEN STRANGE X READER

Summary: During a girls night you are challenged to leave a dirty message for Stephen Strange as part of a game of truth or dare. You accept without much thought, the alcohol in your system stopping you from realizing that your relationship would never be the same after that.

Warnings: suggestive tones, alcohol consumption, attempt at humor, teasing, a bit of dirty talk, name calling (whore) implied smut

English is not my first language

Word count: 4300

This fic is part of my 600 followers celeration

The girls' night was Wanda's idea. After the stressful mission you had been through, hanging out together to relax and gossip was exactly what you needed to recover. Nat and you were a little tired, but eventually gave in after Wanda convinced Hope and Sharon, who happened to be in the avengers' compound when you arrived, too. So you all changed into your comfiest pajamas and, after kicking all the men out of the living room, you all settled down on the couch with a cheesy rom-com playing in the background as you chatted.

The tiredness and tension disappeared from your body as you laughed with your friends, joking and listening to their love problems. It was nice to switch off your brain every now and then and act like you were normal people, worrying about trivial things instead of thinking about the problems affecting the world. It kept you sane and restored your faith in humanity. There was nothing that improved your mood like hanging out with your friends just eating junk food and talking about stupid things.

You were having a good time, drowning in pizza and ice cream while laughing, but when Natasha started mixing drinks things started to go off the rails. With the alcohol levels in everyone's blood rising the conversation became increasingly more chaotic and wild, confessing embarrassing secrets and constantly telling one another how much you loved each other. It wasn't long before someone suggested playing truth or dare and everyone agreed, far too drunk to think about the consequences.

The first few rounds were uneventful, consisting mostly of silly truths and the occasional simple dare such as taking a shot or doing something to annoy one of their teammates. However, as the rounds progressed and the alcohol got into your systems, the game got out of control. And when your turn came you regretted your choice of dare as soon as the words left Natasha's mouth.

"I dare you to send Strange a dirty voicemail." The redhead looked at you with a mischievous smile. Her arched eyebrow challenged you, wondering if you would even dare to accept her proposal. She knew how you felt about Stephen, she'd had to listen to you ramble on multiple times about him and his perfect face that looked like it had been carved by the angels themselves. She knew you liked him, but she also knew you were never going to make the first move. So she thought the best thing to do was to give you a little push —well, it seemed small in her alcoholized mind.

"No way!" you groaned, refusing to participate in the game. You weren't drunk enough to ignore that voice in your mind telling you that this was a bad idea. 

"You can't refuse!" Wanda interjected. "That's not how it works!"

"If you do, you'll have to drink from the mystery cocktail and you don't really want to do that, trust me." Sharon said, remembering the horrible taste of the mystery drink Natasha had prepared as punishment for chickens who didn't complete the dares. She didn't know what the fuck she'd put in there, but it tasted awful.

"Fine!" You gave in to peer pressure. "But it'll be anonymous!" The last thing you needed at that moment was to have to face the consequences of such actions. What Natasha didn't seem to want to understand was that your hesitation to confess to Stephen how you felt about him didn't just come from a place of fear of rejection, it was much more complicated than that. You could handle rejection, what you couldn't handle was continuing to work with him after such humiliation. Stephen was an avenger, so before you did anything you had to consider how it might affect the team.

"That's fine by me!" Nat aceptó y las demás chicas la siguieron.

"But I'm going to need a drink before I do this."

You took a sip of the strongest drink on the table, feeling the sting of the alcohol as it went down your throat. You needed a lot of courage to do what you were about to do, to lower your inhibitions to the point of losing your sense of shame and self-control. You weren't as intoxicated as you would have liked to be —you were definitely going to remember this in the morning—, but you figured it was for the best. You still needed to be able to speak clearly and form coherent sentences, two things that would be impossible if you kept drinking. So you rested your now empty glass on the table and picked up your phone, ready to get it over with for good.

"It has to be good!" You heard Wanda say as your fingers awkwardly searched your contacts for Stephen's number, making sure to set your number to private and encrypt it before doing anything so he couldn't trace the message back to you. "You have to talk like you mean it."

"Yeah! If he doesn't get a hard on after listening to your voice then you failed the dare." Natasha added and you threw one of the couch cushions in her face.

"That doesn't make any sense! You can't possibly know the effects it might have on him." You complained, pointing out your friends' exaggeration. "He might not even open it."

"Oh I'll know," Wanda assured you, giving you one of those mischievous smiles that sometimes made you question her mental sanity. 

"Whatever," you said, rolling your eyes. "Any other requests before I do this? It's now or never." The girls shook their heads, giving you the green light to proceed. You took a moment to mentally prepare yourself, clearing your throat and blurting out a few words as you searched for a new tone of voice that sounded sultry yet different enough from your normal voice to throw Stephen off. 

Before tapping on his contact on your phone you tried to focus on him and how he made you feel. His cocky smile was the first thing that came to your mind, the one he gave you every time his plans worked out after you questioned them. That smile drove you crazy. His lips in general drove you crazy. You spent more time than you'd like to admit imagining what it would be like to feel his kisses on your skin, caressing every inch of your body. You wondered if his tongue was as skilled at pronouncing incantations as it was at bringing pleasure to a woman. The mere image of his face buried between your legs, devouring you like a starving man was enough to make your center drip with need. 

His hands were the next thing that popped into your mind, the way they moved in the air with precision each time he casted a spell. You loved watching him work, you got completely lost in your thoughts as you silently admired him, imagining how his hands would feel on your body, touching each curve with delicate sensuality. You were convinced that he really knew what to do with his hands to have a girl screaming his name in seconds, those skillful fingers of his were good for more than magic and you were dying to feel them exploring the deepest parts of your being.

Once you let your imagination run wild it was easy to find the right words to complete your dare. You didn't even have to think too hard about keeping a different voice, the low, sensual tone came naturally to you as you left a message for Stephen detailing everything you wanted to do to him —and everything you wanted him to do to you. You tried to control yourself since your friends were in the room with you, carefully choosing your words so as not to reveal so much about your true fantasies. But you made sure he knew how attractive you found him and how you were willing to let him do whatever he wanted to you. 

The moment you hung up, all the girls burst into hysterical laughter, theorizing about what Stephen's reaction would be when he heard your message in the morning. You were buzzing with euphoria, too intoxicated to feel embarrassed, so you laughed with them. Your confused mind wasn't able to comprehend that you were the one who would have to face the consequences of your little game. That was a problem for the Y/N of the future and at that moment the next morning seemed to be far in the future. All that mattered to you at that moment was to relax and enjoy the evening, laughing with your friends. And that was exactly what you did until at some point you fell asleep on the living room couch.

When you woke up in the morning you regretted all the decisions you had made the day before, from accepting the first drop of alcohol to sleeping on the couch. Now not only did you have a headache that barely let you think, but also your whole body felt stiff due to the awful position in which you had slept on the couch. You grunted as soon as you felt Tony's voice, no doubt speaking louder than necessary to annoy you as he paced around the kitchen preparing breakfast. You hated the open concept building design more than ever at that moment, missing walls that separated the living room and sheltered you from the sound.

"I hate you." You winced when he came over to ask if you were going to have breakfast. He sounded so cheerful and amused while you were miserable that it made you angry. Your head was pounding and your stomach was upset. However, the smell of freshly brewed coffee coming from the kitchen forced you to get up, reluctantly dragging yourself into the kitchen where Nat, Wanda and Sharon greeted you with tired looks. 

"Seems like you ladies had quite a night." Steve said with a smile, grabbing a cup of coffee and sitting down next to you. His hair was still wet from the shower, probably because he had gotten up early to go for a run like he did every morning. You never really cared about that, but this time you couldn't help but look at him like he was crazy for daring to do such a thing. The very idea of moving at a speed faster than a zombie made you want to vomit.

"Remind me to never drink again." You grumbled, taking one of the pills Nat had passed you. Sharon agreed with you, complaining about how the world still seemed to be spinning around her.

"What the hell did you put in that drink?" She asked Natasha, but the redhead just laughed. 

"Shhh, can you guys stay quiet? My head is killing me." Wanda interjected, raising her head to give everyone a pleading look before plopping back down on the marble of the island. 

Everyone's condition improved considerably after eating a lot of greasy food and drinking a lot of water. It also helped that the medicine kicked in, although you were still feeling tired and slightly sore. When you regained some of your good mood and will to live you went back to the living room, settling down on the couch with a cup of hot coffee in the hopes of watching the tv until your energies were recharged. However, your plans were ruined when you discovered that someone was already there. And not just anyone, but Stephen Strange, who was talking to Tony while holding his phone in his hand. 

Memories of the night before came back to you in a series of flashes that replayed in your mind like a movie. You stared in horror at the men in front of you, wondering if Stephen had gotten your message yet. You sat as far away from them as possible, focusing on your coffee as you tried to listen to their conversation. Your strategy was to be discrete and play dumb if their eyes at any point caught on you, but when you saw Natasha walk into the living room you knew your plan was out the window.

"What are you guys talking about?" The redhead interrupted them, "Expecting an important phone call?" She added, looking at the phone in Stephen's hands with a raised eyebrow. 

"Our favorite wizard here got a spicy message from an encrypted number and he needs my help to figure out who this mystery person is" Tony explained with amusement in his voice and Stephen gave him a murderous look.

"Thanks for the discretion, Tony."

"Spicy how?" Natasha pressed the issue to see if she could get Stephen to give more details, especially about how that message had made him feel. 

"Oh you have to hear it, this girl did not hold back." Tony said and you choked on the coffee you were drinking. He had heard it! "She was really grateful to him for saving the world and wanted to give something back to him, if you know what I mean."

"We all know what you mean, Stark. You're not very subtle." Stephen rolled his eyes. "And give me that back." He snatched the phone out of her hands before she could pass it to Natasha to listen to the message. "Can you help me or not?"

"Why do you want to know who this person is?" Nat teased, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "You really liked it, huh?"

"No! I just... I'm concerned it might be a stalking situation so I want to know who this person is." Stephen tried so hard to sound confident, but even you were able to notice the hesitation in his voice. He was making excuses. He was at least intrigued by the message and that made you feel a strange sense of pride. Even though you were a little drunk, you had managed to get his attention with your words and your sensual voice. Sure, he didn't know it was you, but that didn't matter to you at the moment, the confidence slowly building in your system didn't let you think about it.

"Hey! No one is judging here." Tony spoke up. "If I were in your place I would like to know who this mystery person is too."

Stephen let out a sigh, rolling his eyes. "Just let me know when you get something."

He stormed off, leaving you with a million unanswered questions and a strange feeling in your stomach. Tony ran after him and Natasha took advantage of the fact that you were alone to give you a gentle push to get your attention. You moved your gaze from the door through which he had disappeared to look up at your friend, who was looking at you with a playful smile.

"He's crazy about you." She stated but you downplayed it, saying he was only interested because he didn't know it was you talking on the other end of the line. However, you couldn't help but feel a little flame burning inside you. You felt confident and for the first time since you had met Stephen you felt you had a chance with him.

The next time you saw Stephen was during an Avengers meeting to discuss a possible mission. You barely paid attention to what Steve was saying, too distracted by the perfect profile of Stephen sitting next to you. The sunlight coming through the large windows illuminated his face in a special way, giving him an ethereal aura that made it impossible for you to look away from him and those ridiculously sharp cheek bones he had. It was torture to have him so close looking like a Greek god and not being able to do anything about it. Your new found confidence hated it. It took all your power to control your urges, striving to calm your wild fantasies at least until Steve let you out of there. 

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn't realize the meeting was over until you saw the other team members disappearing behind the door. Soon it was just you and Stephen in the large conference room. You gave him a quick glance and noticed that he was looking at his phone once again. You wondered then if he was waiting for another message from you, if he was as crazy about that mysterious voice on the other end of the line as he seemed to be. It was pretty hard to contain your urges at that moment.

"Any new leads on your mystery person case?" your voice alerted Stephen, who looked up from his phone to rest his gaze on you.

"No, Stark hasn't called me yet."

"Is that what you were checking on your phone while Steve talked?" You asked him, getting up from your seat to move closer to him, settling against the table right in front of his chair. "If Stark had called with any leads?"

There was something in your tone of voice that alerted Stephen, a sensual undertone he had never heard in you before and it made him wonder what you were getting at. He had felt your eyes on him throughout the meeting, he always did, but for some reason this time it felt different.

"Why do you care so much?" He countered, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm just curious as to what has you so distracted lately." You faked innocence, shrugging your shoulders. "Was it really that good?"

"Excuse me?" Stephen was surprised by your sudden audacity, though he couldn't say he didn't find it intriguing. 

"It seems to me that you're desperate to hear that voice again." You leaned closer to him, lowering your head to be at his level. Your eyes were locked on his, admiring the dark shadow in the icy blue of his orbs. He held your gaze as the tension in the air intensified, curious to discover what your next words would be.

"I can help you with that," you added, using the same low, sultry tone you had used in the message. "Even better, I can show you just how hot I think you are... how desperate I am to feel your hands all over my body, using your powers to restrain me and do whatever you want with me." 

If your voice hadn't already given you away, repeating the words you had said to him in the message definitely had. His eyes grew wide, looking at you with a mixture of surprise and confusion. You had never seen Stephen so perplexed and you had to admit that it felt good to be the cause of that. You were used to it always being the other way around. You used to be the one who was speechless every time he gave you a smile, it was nice to have the power for once.

Stephen was not an easy man to silence, even in the strangest or most stressful situations, he always found something to say. But now he was speechless, looking at you in complete astonishment as he tried to process the situation. It wasn't just discovering that you were the mysterious person he was looking for that threw him off, but also the confidence you exuded. He had never seen you act that way before, though he would be lying if he said he didn't like it. He couldn't stop his mind from running wild, imagining every detail of the message that occupied his thoughts but now with you. Never would he have imagined that behind your innocent look and shy attitude was an imagination as dirty as his.

"I can give you what you want, all you have to do is ask." Your warm breath would collide against her earlobe when you spoke, giving her goose bumps. Your perfume assaulted his nostrils with every breath he took, intoxicating his entire system with your scent. He felt dizzy, his mind clouded with desire and anticipation having trouble concentrating. 

However, when you turned away from him, walking towards the door to finally get out of there, his brain snapped out of it. Raising his hand in the air, he conjured a kind of glowing lace made of pure energy that closed over your wrist, stopping you on your feet. With a gentle push he managed to turn you around to face him as he used his other hand to close the door to the room and pull down all the blinds with a simple flick of his wrist.

"Where do you think you're going? I'm not done with you yet. We're just getting started." Stephen said to you with an arched eyebrow. You noticed a hunger in his eyes you had never seen before, the cool blue of his orbs almost completely consumed by the black in his dilated pupils. It ignited a flame inside you, a warmth spreading through your stomach as you carefully analyzed Stephen's body language, trying to predict his next move. All your arrogance and confidence disappeared under his intense gaze. You were like a deer caught in the headlights, frozen in place waiting for his next reaction.

All he had to do was pull the glowing leash and you were forced to move closer to him once again. You would have lost your balance had it not been for his grip on your waist, successfully trapping you between his body and the edge of the table. You had nowhere to run, though you really didn't want to.  

"Who would have thought that behind that cute and innocent act there was such a dirty whore, desperate to be seen?" Stephen's voice was condescending, mocking, as his cold blue eyes pierced into yours. It made you feel small and insignificant in the face of his imposing figure, your cheeks heating with the blood that was quickly pooling there from the embarrassment of being so exposed. He finally knew the truth, you were a dirty whore desperate for his touch. 

"I never would have guessed you were the voice on the message saying those dirty things." He was barely touching you —his fingers trailing up your arms to your shoulders, following the line of your collarbones before descending through the space between your breasts—, but that was enough to quicken your breathing. And every time you inhaled, you breathed in his intoxicating scent, a mixture of his cologne and the aroma of his own essence that made your knees weak.

"I was hoping it was you. The first time I heard those words I closed my eyes and imagined you acting out those fantasies. I got so hard just imagining it." As if to emphasize his words, Stephen pressed his hips against you, letting you feel the bulge beginning to grow in his pants. You couldn't contain the moan that escaped your lips, a pathetic whimper that put a smile on Stephen's lips. 

He was enjoying the growing anticipation, having fun with your suffering. He was torturing you as retribution for your mysterious little message that had had him going crazy all this time, forcing you to experience the same desperation he did, using only his voice to arouse you. You hated it and loved it at the same time.

"You have no idea how much I wanted it to be you...but then I thought it could never be, you're a good girl and good girls don't use that vulgar language." You looked down, unable to hold eye contact with him any longer as you felt the embarrassment taking hold of you. But Stephen didn't let you off that easily, taking your chin in his hand to force you to look at him. "Tell me, were you really so desperate for my attention to leave that message? Were you so desperate for me that you pushed aside your good girl attitude and manners to expose the whore you hide inside you?" 

His voice was a husky whisper against your ear, his lips almost brushing against sensitive skin seductively. The ghost of his touch was driving you crazy and his dirty words traveled straight to your core, that throbbed desperate for attention. You could feel his presence, the warmth of his body against yours, his imposing gaze, the subtle caresses of his fingers on your skin, but it wasn't enough. You needed more to satiate your need for him, much more.

"Yes," you managed to mumble. Your voice sounded much more pathetic and desperate than you expected, but that didn't really matter. On the contrary, Stephen seemed to enjoy it. "I'm tired of hiding it, I need you Stephen... I need to feel your touch." You were practically begging him, asking him to have mercy on you and give you something to calm the flames burning inside you. But he just laughed. His warm breath hit the sensitive skin of your neck, giving you goosebumps. Your hands ran up his chest, determined to get for yourself what you needed as he refused to give it to you. If he wanted to torture you, it was only fair that you retaliated. Two could play that game.

But before you could go much further, Stephen pulled your hands away from his body, binding them behind your back with the same magical bond he had used to draw you to him. It was tight around your wrists, but not too tight, just enough to make sure you couldn't move easily. He wanted control.

"Oh, I'm going to give you what you so desperately want, don't worry about it, darling." He murmured against your lips, brushing them with every word he spoke. "But first I have to teach you a lesson... you see, you have to be more careful about what you wish for, because it can become real."

[anotheruserwithnoname]

Star Trek SNW finally settles decades-old canon issues (spoiler commentary for S02E03)

(Image credit: Startrek.com)

I say spoiler right in the headline, and I mean it. Read no further if you have yet to see Star Trek: Strange New World’s latest episode, Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow. (The image above is a publicity image and is also in the trailer, so it’s not really a spoiler.)

The TL;DR is: one single line of dialogue fixed nearly 30 years of canon issues. I am not exaggerating. More under the break. And this will be a long one:

To “cross the streams” a moment, it is undeniable canon (not shipping wishful thinking) that not only did the Eleventh Doctor in Doctor Who have feelings for Clara Oswald, he even considered her not his companion, but his girlfriend. That was made undeniable canon in a couple lines in “Deep Breath” when the Twelfth Doctor said “Clara, I’m not your boyfriend,” Clara replied, “I never thought you were.” and Twelve said “I never said it was your mistake.” That was in stark fact. One line of canon dialogue confirmed what many speculated and the show hinted at. This is separate from what came after, any retcons later writers did, and all that. 

Well, one line of dialogue from a guest character in last night’s episode of Strange New Worlds put into canon something I and many others have felt not only about SNW, but the current breed of Trek shows and indeed there were signs of this going back to both Star Trek DS9 and Star Trek Voyager in the 1990s.

The Romulan time agent, Sera, played by Adelaide Kane who some may remember from playing Mary Queen of Scots in Reign, states that the Eugenics war involving Khan was supposed to happen in 1992, but was delayed 30 years due to temporal wars and other interference from the future. (To be precise she’s likely referring to Khan’s birth since he was in his 30s or 40s by the 1990s, the time TOS established the Eugenics Wars took place; here he’s a kid - possibly even a Canadian kid!  The war itself is still some years away.)

That explains a lot. Why since DS9 the Eugenics Wars were redated to the mid-21st century. Why SNW’s pilot episode last year confirmed the Eugenics Wars were part of WW3, not a separate conflict.  Why the Voyager episode where they go back to Earth on 1996 featured no mention of the Eugenics Wars. Why Kirk and everyone else already knows the name Noonien-Singh (even if La’an hadn’t introduced herself by name to “Prime” Kirk at the end, he would have seen her testimony about being Khan’s descendant at Una’s trial. There is no way in this timeline that Kirk, Spock or anyone else would not recognize Khan’s name instantly when the events of Space Seed happen. Heck, even the fact the SNW Enterprise doesn’t match up with the 1960s designs that were also featured in TNG, DS9 and Star Trek: Enterprise. Or even stuff like people like Uhura knowing who T’Pring was years before they were supposedly first introduced to her in “Amok Time”. It even gives wiggle room for the fact this time-travel episode actually breaks canon with the time-travel-based episodes of Picard Season 2! (Laris would have known about Sera and stopped her, right? Sean at TrekCulture had a gripe about this in his Youtube review)

Sera basically admitted that because of people farting around with time and the temporal wars (recall that it was strongly implied in Enterprise that the Romulans were involved if not responsible for that) that the timeline has been changed. 

It can’t be denied anymore and it’s such a liberating thing. Now, SNW is free to truly tell reimagined stories (like the retelling of Balance of Terror last season, albeit that was another alternate timeline), to make T’Pring a vital character and build her, to accelerate the Spock-Chapel romance that was only hinted at in TOS. To truly let Paul Wesley develop his own version of Kirk, not to mention Ethan Peck’s Spock and whoever next plays McCoy (you know they will bring him in eventually and if SNW avoids the fate of Prodigy and lasts a few years, they’re going to have to start getting lined up for a new TOS-era series). Hell, the door is now open for Kirk and La’an to establish a “prime-era” romance - imagine a retelling of Space Seed with La’an in the picture (or at least Kirk remembering her).

This will be a hot take for some. But my rebuttal comes from Doctor Who: “Time can be rewritten.” Finally, nearly 30 years after what was thought to be an erroneous dating of the Eugenics Wars in a throwaway line in an episode of DS9 (I believe the producers even said it was a goof back then), and 22 years of people griping about how the prequel series were not lining up with what came before, either esthetically or storyline-wise (Enterprise, Discovery, SNW, and Picard S2 to a degree), we have a firm, canonical explanation. People will still gripe about politics, general quality, casting, whatever, of shows - that’s a separate argument - but at least in terms of canon, this has changed everything. In a good way.

I only wish they hadn’t killed off Sera. I got very strong Sela vibes from her (Sela/Sera? Coincidence?) and I would have liked to see her become a recurring nemesis. Then again, as I just said, time can be rewritten. 

[jovialmoonprincess]

Death By a Thousand Cuts - Part II

First Part. / The Winter Ball / Champagne Problems / Frost and Thorns / The Storm Within / In Silence, We Crumble / Loving him was Red / Paired Again / During the Storm / Death By a Thousand Cuts - Part I / Death By a Thousand Cuts - Part II

Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

Summary: Clemensia's plan

Warning(s): None, enemy to lovers, back in time, destiny, Snow being in love, Snow being Snow, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

The tension intensifies in the principal's office as the students anxiously await the unfolding events. Dr. Gaul's gaze is icy, emanating authority and suspicion, while Clemensia maintains an angelic posture.

"Well, let's get to it, the main suspects are Sejanus and Y/N," begins the principal with a serious voice. "We understand that Coriolanus has an alibi in the library and Clemensia has an alibi which is Dr. Gaul. They were together at the time of the graffiti. Now, you two…" he points to Sejanus and Y/N, a questioning look over his glasses. "Have complicated histories, Y/N not so much but Sejanus… We've already talked about this pro-district behavior, haven't we?" The boy was calm, it was usual for him to get into trouble and his parents got him out in the blink of an eye. He wasn't afraid of many things. This behavior made him look even more suspicious.

"We were together, Y/N and I, in the gym during the incident," Coriolanus was confused about why the two would skip class together. He had a strange feeling about the situation. "We both received identical notes, supposedly from each other, but neither of us wrote them. Someone is trying to frame us!"

"Okay, so someone here has a false alibi. Because someone did that. And everyone here seems like they weren't there. Would Dr. Gaul or the librarian lie to me? Or are you students lying?" The principal carried a comical tone. "I think the second option is the most plausible, right? Because in all these decades of work here at this school, this has never happened." Y/N feels a knot forming in her throat, the words of accusation echoing in her mind like an echo of despair. Sejanus remains by her side, an anchor of support amid the storm of uncertainties that unfolds around them.

Coriolanus knew he was in the library and also knew that Dr. Gaul and Clemensia would not graffiti the lockers with such a phrase; they were, above all, supporters of the games. His serious expression betrayed the concern consuming him inside. His eyes met Y/N's, a tumultuous mix of emotions reflecting in the depths of her blue irises. He wondered if Clemensia would set up something like this against Y/N to harm her but found no reason for it to happen. And also, Dr. Gaul tried to kill her, the two being accomplices was out of the question. Y/N was anxious, her fingers moving unconsciously. She knew she was innocent but didn't like situations like this.

"Please, sir, I have nothing to do with this! I would never do something like that!" The principal casts a skeptical look at her, his expression hard and unyielding.

"Right, everything happened very quickly. About 30 minutes at most, the culprit must still have something that compromises him with him. Dr. Gaul, can you help me search their bags?"

The doctor nodded quietly. A few minutes passed and Clemensia said she was feeling ill. Everyone looked at her and noticed that she did not look well at all. Sejanus helped her sit down and the principal offered her a glass of water.

"I'm not used to situations like this, I'm sorry."

With the mood calmed, the search resumed. Everyone in the room was tense until they heard a jingle of metal that Dr. Gaul took from Y/N's bag. It was a bunch of keys, with a keychain bearing the school's crest.

"It's the bunch with the key to the teachers' room," the principal said, surprised.

"This is absurd! Y/N would have no reason to do something like this!" Sejanus exclaims in defense of the girl. Coriolanus watches the scene with a mix of incredulity and confusion, his mind struggling to reconcile the image of Y/N he knew with the accusations hanging over her.

"Principal Highbottom, I swear I'm innocent! You have to believe me!" Y/N was about to faint, it was as if the ground opened up beneath her feet. "I didn't write any note and I didn't even know about the existence of that key, I'm sure it was a setup!" The revelation of the key is like a devastating blow to Y/N, her heart sinking in despair as she realizes the gravity of the situation she finds herself in. Tears threaten to flood her eyes, but she swallows them, determined to face injustice with dignity. Sejanus remains steadfast by Y/N's side, his comforting presence a source of strength amid the storm that envelops them. Principal Highbottom frowns, considering the students' words seriously.

"A trap, you say? And how can we be sure of that?"

"And I never had that key in my possession. Someone put it in my bag to make me look guilty!"

The tension in the room increases as the students' words echo through the space, challenging the accusations that hang over them. Coriolanus was no longer in the room when the principal spoke about what he would do about the matter:

"After careful analysis of the facts presented, it is concluded that the evidence points to your involvement, Sejanus and Y/N, in the graffiti of the teachers' lockers. Although I understand that you may disagree with this assessment, it is my duty as director to apply appropriate disciplinary measures."

He emphasizes his decision firmly, standing firm in his conviction, despite the possibility of error. The students listen to the principal's words with a sense of helplessness and injustice, aware that they are being punished for something they did not do. The feeling of powerlessness is overwhelming, but they silently accept the consequences, resigned to the authority of the principal.

"Therefore, as a disciplinary measure, you will be required to perform 50 hours of community service each, in addition to bearing the full costs of repairing the damage caused by the acts of vandalism. These measures aim not only to punish but also to encourage reflection on the consequences of your actions and promote personal growth."

The principal's words echo in the room, leaving a weight on the shoulders of Sejanus and Y/N. They feel wronged and frustrated, but know they must face the imposed consequences, even if they do not agree with them.

The silence that followed was deafening, each gaze seeking answers amid the growing chaos.

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