#no malice behind this whatsoever

[peaches2217]

There’s a door on the right wall of Peach and Mario’s bedroom, just a few meters from the entryway. It’s an entirely unremarkable door, really; it matches the doors to both the private chambers and the restroom, white with gold trimmings and a polished brass doorknob. Such a door normally wouldn’t give Peach any pause whatsoever.

There is, however, one strange thing about this door in particular: it wasn’t there this morning.

She repeatedly looks from the door to her husband, who’s casually unlacing his boots by the dresser. The door to her husband, who’s rummaging through the third drawer down. The door back to her husband, who’s unhooking his overalls and kicking them onto the plush carpet floor. If he’s aware of this anomaly in an otherwise familiar setting, he’s not showing it.

“Mario.”

Mario hums lazily, not even looking at her as he pulls on his softest, most worn nightshirt, its red cotton faded and fraying. Peach is almost certain she’s dreaming right now. She was so certain she had been awake just minutes ago, laughing with friends and family over dinner, cheerfully accompanying her husband to bed after a long and eventful day of baby shopping with her best friend (though it's still a bit early to be buying any clothes, she’d tried saying a few times, statements that Daisy had immediately brushed off). But everything suddenly feels far too… off.

“What is that?” she finally chances, gesturing to the alien door. Mario finishes peeling off his socks and gloves before looking to where she’s gesturing, regarding it with all the mundanity he might regard any other door.

“It’s a door,” he answers easily, giving her a patented I have no clue what you’re getting at but I love you and cherish the words that come from your mouth anyway grin.

Peach sucks in an uneasy breath. Maybe this is that Pregnancy Brain thing she’s read about? Perhaps her memories are being rearranged, her senses tricked? Toadessa did warn her that she might become increasingly forgetful as the months progressed. It’s a more logical explanation than any other she can conjure up. If something were truly amiss, then surely Mario would notice too. Right?

“I… don’t remember it being there this morning,” she confesses, a blush creeping into her cheeks. She remembers, or at least thinks she remembers, that there was once a small storage unit just behind that door, filled with old broken halberds and spears and other assorted equipment that was too valuable to trash but too broken to repair. Yes, she remembers it now with greater confidence; she had been terrified of that dark, cluttered room, unable to sleep for fear of whatever monsters might be lurking within, and so Toadsworth had ordered it sealed when she was age seven or so.

Or maybe he hadn’t?

Mario chuckles, and though the corners of his eyes crease in good humor and his smile is filled with warmth, her face burns hotter still. “Fog’s already setting in, huh?” He taps a finger to his temple to hammer home what he’s implying, and though Peach knows his words hold no malice, the teasing still fans an unpleasant flame in her chest; she can’t help but cross arms in front of her and huff, half in hopes of exhaling that flame, half to make her displeasure known.

Suddenly Mario’s face reads a bit less amused and a bit more ashamed, and that just makes her feel even worse.

“No,” he croons, approaching her with his hands loosely extended, “tesoro mio, I’m so sorry. That was mean.” His tone doesn’t quite match his words. He’s clearly sorry to have provoked such a reaction, Peach doesn’t doubt his sincerity there, but there’s nevertheless a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, like there’s still something terribly amusing about her predicament.

So this is the thanks I get for carrying your child, she considers pouting, but something in Mario’s eyes sparkles so brightly that she feels her annoyance melting away, like an icicle brought into the sunlight. Damn him. She sighs and unfolds her arms to take his hands; for her silent pardon, he brings her knuckles to his lips and kisses them one by one, and suddenly she’s overcome with the urge to giggle like a lovestruck schoolgirl.

She resists, if only to spite him one last time, then she lets the grudge slide from her shoulders.

“You know,” Mario says once he’s done with his ministrations, his thumbs rubbing little circles into the backs of her hands, “I don’t have any right to poke fun. I don’t even remember what’s behind that door, either.”

Peach blinks. No, okay, now she knows she’s dreaming. This entire scenario is making less and less sense by the moment.

But before she can pinch herself awake, Mario’s guiding her towards the unfamiliar door, letting go of her hands and drifting behind her. Almost like he’s pushing her forward, she feels.

“Maybe we should check it out,” he suggests all too innocently, and if not for the way he lingers behind her, she might not find the suggestion too strange. But Mario always insists on taking the lead any time there’s unfamiliar terrain to be trekked. He would never let her be the first in the line of fire, no matter how mundane said terrain might appear on the surface, especially not in her present condition.

Unless, of course, he knows what she's stepping into.

Staring at the white and gold door, reason begins to resettle in Peach’s head. How had he known she was referring specifically to the door itself? If she were to gesture to the bathroom door and say "What is that?", he wouldn’t say “That’s a door,” he would say “That’s the bathroom.” 

She’s not dreaming, nor is she going crazy. There is definitely something going on. Some sort of conspiracy that he’s in on and she’s not.

Unaccustomed to being left in the dark by her own husband, she grasps the doorknob, takes a breath, opens the door… and gasps.

The room behind the door is, in fact, the room she remembers, or is at least roughly the same size. But where she remembers dingy hardwood, there’s now carpet, luxuriously plush like the carpet in the bedroom. The sterile gray walls that once spooked her are now a soft and lovely blue, decorated with empty floating shelves and cheerful paintings of Biddybuds and Fire Flowers and scenes from familiar mushroom forests.

There's no trace of the broken weapons that once littered the room. There's instead a dresser flush to the wall, and a tall table of some sort, and a small chest in the opposite corner... and in the center of the room, on a round and ornate rug, are two pieces of furniture on smooth, curved rockers. One is a chair, adult human-sized; the other is much smaller, a horizontal hollow contained within smooth, round bars. A crib.

“Oh yeah,” Mario chimes in somewhere behind her, “now I remember! I knew there was a reason I asked Daisy to keep you out of the castle today.”

His words slowly sink in as Peach approaches the rocking chair, reaching out to brush her fingers over the dark red wood. Cedar. The whole room is filled with the dry and resinous aroma of fresh cedar, a scent she typically associates with the workshop in the castle's western wing. The workshop where Mario tinkers with metal and wood whenever he tires of royal monotony and needs to keep his hands occupied.

The workshop that's been suspiciously locked every time she's approached it the past couple of months, even when she could hear saws cutting through raw materials and the tap-tap-tap of chisels in experienced hands within.

All pretense is gone. When she turns back to Mario, she finds him bristling with pride, that teasing smile wider than before.

"You did this?" She looks back to the chair, fastened with fluffy pink silk cushions, and the crib, a matching cushion tied to its bars and emblazoned with the royal mushroom emblem on its headboard, an emblem that's been carved into the chest a few steps away as well. Something in her throat feels impossibly tight. "All of this?"

Mario finally leaves the doorway, his hand brushing against her back as he steps past her. "Well, not all of it, no. Just the furniture." He taps his right foot a few times against the statement rug beneath their feet. "Weeg handled the layout and the decorations and the swatches and all that fancy stuff. He's got a better eye for that sorta thing! Then he helped me get everything moved in and set up and the door re-installed while you and Daisy were out shopping. Of course Toadsworth's the one who told me about this little room in the first place, so he helped us get it unsealed, and Daisy—" He laughs now, scratching the back of his neck. “Actually, she wasn’t even part of it originally! She just barged in one day — I had the door locked, Peachy, but she just waltzed right on in! I don’t know if she had a key or if she just forced it open with her bare hands — and she said the only way she’d keep quiet was if she got to be involved and take credit for her part in the whole ordeal, so that’s how that happened, and—”

His face grows darker as he prattles on, until at last he’s forced to take in a sharp gasp, his color returning to normal as oxygen once more fills his lungs. “But! The rest of it! Yeah, that was all me! Looky here—” His fingers curl around the bars of the crib, giving it a few demonstrative rocks. “Remember that night you called me into the bathroom and I thought you were hurt and I panicked but actually you were just excited because you could finally see a little baby bump in the mirror? I couldn’t sleep at all that night because suddenly it all felt so real, so I spent the whole next day making this! 

“And then I thought, ‘Well, we’ve got a place for them to sleep, but where are we gonna change their diapers? And where are we gonna put all the diapers and wipes and all that good stuff anyway?’ And that’s how I got started on that one!” He darts now to the table against the wall, gesticulating around it with the enthusiasm of a used kart salesman. “Perfect little platform, plenty of storage space, I’ve been thinking about making a mobile to put over it too in case she gets fussy, because the last thing we need is a dirty diaper and a fussy baby, right? And then—”

And this continues on for a good few minutes, Mario darting around the room to show off each hand-crafted piece of their new nursery. The dresser to store non-diapers, things like blankets and onesies and a few changes of clothes for both of them because babies are messy and ruined clothes are inevitable, and the chest to store everything else, like toys — he throws the lid open and shows Peach a few delicately carved wooden blocks and dolls, because what's a toy chest without any toys?

The information comes at Peach too quickly to absorb any of it, because an excitable Mario is a Mario at full steam that won’t stop for anything or anyone, so she blindly follows him, brushing her fingers against each piece’s cool cedar, examining the smooth-gliding drawers, dragging her thumb nail over the ridges in each toy she’s handed.

“And then the bookshelf! I’m… still working on that one.” He scratches his neck again with a nervous chuckle. “But I couldn’t wait any longer! Gimme a few days and it’ll go in that corner right over there. Weegee’s already got a whole library lined up for her, so we should have enough books to last us a while at least. And then I was thinking we could put some flowers and vases on the shelves, maybe? So they look sad and empty now, but pretty soon they’ll…”

Peach dutifully admires one such shelf on the wall, right next to a painting of a Fire Flower field in full bloom. Yes, a live Fire Flower on the adjacent shelf to compliment the painting. It’s certainly a good idea. She’s so caught up in the automatic thought process that, as soon as it runs its course, she turns to take on whatever bit of information Mario throws at her next, effortless and thoughtless.

Only then does she realize he’s gone silent.

“...You okay, Peachy?” Suddenly there’s no bravado in his voice. It’s softer, gentler, quieter. He closes their distance and takes her hands in his, warm and strong. “Sorry, I… I know this is a lot. Of course, if there’s any part of it you don’t like, you can tell me! You know I won’t take it personally. Well, not too personally.” He couples this statement with a playful wink.

Another automatic thought crosses Peach’s mind: how could she ever criticize any of this? He’s made an entire nursery with his own two hands for their child. She could never…

And for the first time since she opened that strange new door, it hits Peach. Not in words, but in images: Mario in his workshop, wiping sweat and sawdust from his forehead as he consults his blueprints, making certain his vision is coming to life exactly as he’s planned. Mario crammed into a booth at Tayce T.’s with his brother, thick brows knit in confusion as Luigi gives him a crash course on color theory and interior design. Mario in a football-style huddle with Peach’s steward and brother-in-law and best friend, giving everyone their roles sometime late last night or early this morning while she still lay blissfully unaware in bed.

Mario kneeling beside the completed crib, rocking it a few times with a peaceful smile, staring down at the plush pink cushion and imagining a little blonde or brunette bundle of blankets sleeping soundly within.

The stagnant tightness in Peach’s throat erupts in the form of a sob, a rush of raw hormones heightening her every emotion until it almost hurts, and once she starts, it’s impossible to stop.

“Ah— Peachy—!” She hears Mario offer a few uncertain words of comfort beneath her shrill breathing, and he starts to pull her in some equally uncertain direction (uncertain to her, anyway, because her tears are falling too hard and too fast to make out anything other than abstract shapes). She lets him guide her steps, until suddenly he hoists her into his arms and lowers both of them. He’s settled in the rocking chair, she realizes from the way they both jolt as he adjusts her in his lap.

Her belly is larger now than it was the night she called him into the bathroom, though not so large that she can’t wrap her arms around him and hold him tightly, burying her face into the crown of his head. Even his hair smells of cedar, a fine dust that tickles her nose, and laughter bubbles in her chest alongside the tears.

“You’re amazing,” she manages to choke out. Her Mario, her thoughtful Mario, her hard-working and mind-bendingly devoted Mario. He cradles her, his left hand against her outer thigh, his opposite arm supporting her back, his right hand stroking the side of her belly ever so gently.

“So,” he says into her chest, and she can feel him smile against her, “does this, uh, does this make up for the teasing earlier?”

Peach sniffles and laughs again, drawing him in closer. Even if she hasn’t forgiven him (which she has, she’d like to believe she’s not that petty), she supposes drenching his hair with tears and mucus is payback enough. Maybe they can shower together tonight. Maybe she can wash his hair, and he’ll press kisses to her sternum the whole time, like he always does.

Though for now, she’s equally content to remain right where she’s at, secure in his arms in this cozy little nursery, their baby nestled safely between their bodies. It’ll still be a few more months before this space is put to proper use, after all. What’s the rush?

#well! this was corny even for me #but I enjoyed writing it so you won't be hearing any apologies from me. 😆 #I love the thought that mario simply Cannot Shut Up when he’s excited so this is my propaganda as well #bonus points if you remember the post this was based off of! it was from december I think? #super mario bros #smb #mario #princess peach #mario x peach #mareach #peaches' fancy fics #tw pregnancy

[zeravmeta]

when castoria uses her fairy eyes on oberon they're always active and she can see that no matter what he says he is lying but unlike all other fairies there is no malice whatsoever behind his words just an all consuming feeling of emptiness that washes over her no matter if oberon talks happily or sadly. on the other hand castorias eyes dont work on guda because when they say that they dont have issues and are perfectly fine there is a warping in the space around them because Clearly They Are Not Fine but guda believes in it so much due to their sheer will to survive that it may was well be true

#i love artoria 'saber' caster #zerav meme #fgo #fate grand order #zerav meta #she has Friends With Syndromes (she is also filled with syndromes)

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER NINETEEN (see full series list here)

1993

Every head in the Hall turns to Harry, whose shocked and confused expression is matching your own. Your jaw has dropped to the floor.

Nobody claps, nobody cheers like they did for the other champions. Everyone just stares at Harry, who sits frozen and unmoving.

Beside you, Minerva gets to her feet and sweeps forward to whisper urgently to Dumbledore, who bends his ear towards her, frowning slightly.

You watch as Dumbledore straightens up. "Harry Potter! Harry! Up here, if you please."

Harry gets to his feet unsteadily, treading on the hem of his robes and stumbling. There's no sound but for the boy's nervous footsteps. His eyes are glued to the ground as he reaches Dumbledore.

"Well...through that door, Harry," says Dumbledore, gesturing with his hand to the door.

As if in a dream, Harry makes his way past your table. He looks at you when he passes and you do your best to give him the least pained smile you can muster. He enters the room and disappears from sight. At once, Ludo Bagman jumps to his feet, a joyous expression on his face, and hurries into the room after Harry. You glance around at the other teachers, exchanging a worried look with Minerva, before standing and walking into the room as well, with Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, Minerva and Snape.

The room is lined with portraits of witches and wizards. A grand fire is roaring in the corner, the three first champions standing around it.

"Madame Maxime!" Fleur says at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"

You don't miss the way Harry bristles slightly at that.

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-Dorr?" she says imperiously, the top of her head brushing the bottom of the chandelier.

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," agrees Karkaroff, whose blue eyes are like shards of ice. "Two Hogwarts Champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions — or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"

He laughs nastily and you feel your gut twist.

"C'est impossible!" Madame Maxime exclaims, her left hand resting on Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most unjust."

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants," Karkaroff snips, a steely smile on his face. Another smile that doesn't reach his eyes whatsoever. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," Snape says softly, dark eyes filled with malice and distaste as he looks at Harry. You can feel your blood start to boil. That's your godson right there! "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break school rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here — "

"Thank you, Severus," says Dumbledore firmly, and Snape goes blissfully quiet, though he continues to give Harry dirty looks.

Dumbledore looks at Harry from behind his half-moon spectacles with an indiscernible expression on his face.

"Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" he asks calmly.

"No." Harry's eyes flit around him nervously. Snape makes an impatient noise of disbelief.

"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" says Dumbledore, ignoring Snape.

"No," Harry answers vehemently.

Behind Dumbledore's back, Snape's eyes move to you and he points a long finger at you accusingly. You shake your head viciously. He raises his eyebrows in disbelief. You roll your eyes and give him the middle finger.

"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cries Madame Maxime. Snape nods enthusiastically.

"He could not have crossed the Age Line," says Minerva sharply. "I am sure we can all agree on that — "

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," says Madame Maxime simply, shrugging.

"Professor Dumbledore didn't make a mistake," you chime in snippily.

"It is possible, of course," Dumbledore says politely.

"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" says Minerva angrily. "Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good enough for everyone else!"

She shoots a very angry look at Snape.

"Mr Crouch...Mr Bagman," says Karkaroff, "you are our — er — objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"

Bagman wipes his round, boyish face with a handkerchief and looks at Crouch, who is standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half-hidden in shadow.

"We must follow the rules and the rules clearly state that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."

"He can't compete," you say. "He's fourteen!"

"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," Karkaroff says angrily, ignoring you, a very ugly look on his face. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It is only fair, Dumbledore."

"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," says Ludo Bagman. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out — it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament — "

"In which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" barks Karkaroff. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growls a voice from near the door. "You can't leave your champion now, he's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

Moody's just entered the room, limping towards your group, clunking his way through. You stiffen slightly at the sight of him, feeling yourself involuntarily straightening your posture.

"Convenient?" Says Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."

"Don't you?" Moody says quietly, glass eye swivelling in its socket. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."

"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" Madame Maxime exclaims.

"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," Karkaroff concurs. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards — "

"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter," Moody growls, fixing his gaze on Harry, "but...funny thing...I don't hear him saying a word..."

"Why should 'e complain?" Fleur Delacour bursts out. "'E 'as the chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze 'onour for our schools!" A thousand Galleons in prize money — zis is a chance many would die for!"

"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it," Moody says gravelly.

An extremely tense silence follows his words and you just stare at him in disbelief.

"What are you talking about?" You say slowly.

"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," Karkaroff says loudly, shrugging his shoulders. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."

"Imagining things, am I?" Moody snarls. "Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet..."

"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" Madame Maxime says incredulously.

"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" says Moody, tapping his staff on the stone flags. "It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament...I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category..."

"How this situation arose, we do not know," Dumbledore says finally. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the tournament. This, therefore, they will do..."

"I'm sorry, but have you all gone mad?" You interrupt, feeling everyone's eyes turn to you. Maybe you shouldn't have come out that strong, but hey, too late to back out now! "Harry is fourteen. He's not of age yet, and he's certainly not old enough for this tournament. This, as we all know, extremely dangerous tournament! He doesn't know half the spells a seventh-year would know, it's madness to let him go ahead — "

"If you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it," Dumbledore says, politely adding your name at the end.

"Hm, well, how about we just...don't let him compete, maybe? Bit of a crazy idea to you lot, I'm sure — "

"Legally binding magical contract, professor!" Ludo Bagman cuts in, beaming excitedly at you, wagging his finger. "Give the lad a chance! Let's crack on now, I think we've had enough squawking for one night!"

He turns to the rest of the group, effectively cutting you off from them. They've got to be mad. Absolutely mad. He's far too young for this. It's against the rules! And who decided to make this magically binding in the first place? What kind of fool makes a tournament that involves teenage students magically binding? You ball your hands into fists. Would you lose your job if you punched Bagman in that snotty, overly-cheerful face of his?

Yeah, probably.

Well, okay. You definitely would lose your job. You've just lost a little bit of respect for Dumbledore. He's not even trying to give Harry an out! Not even trying to fix this situation.

Men.

You glance over at your godson. He hasn't stopped fiddling with the hem of his robes since his name was called out and you feel awful. You can tell just by looking at him that he's as surprised and confused as you are, that he had no idea his name was going to come out of that goblet. There has to be a way out of this. You won't have him put in danger like that.

"The first task is designed to test your daring," comes Crouch's low voice, pulling you from your thoughts, "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. It will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."

Out of the corner of your eye you see Cedric subtly pump his fist at his side in quiet celebration.

Crouch turns to look at Dumbledore. "I think that's all, right, Albus?"

"I think so," says Dumbledore. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay the night at Hogwarts, Barty?"

Oh please no.

"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," Crouch answers and you breath a very quiet sigh of relief. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment...I've left young Weatherby in charge...very enthusiastic...a little over-enthusiastic, truth be told..."

"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?"

"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" exclaims Bagman brightly, clapping Crouch on the shoulder — which causes Crouch to jump slightly and grimace. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"

"I think not, Ludo," Crouch says, a touch of impatience in his voice.

You won't be missed!

"Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime — a nightcap?" Dumbledore asks, but Madame Maxime has already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and is leading her out of the room, the two of them conversing in very rapid French — you focus on trying to catch what they're saying, but you barely catch any of it, other than a very put-out mention of a petit garçon, meaning little boy. It's obvious they're not too happy about this arrangement at all.

Karkaroff beckons Viktor and they too exit the room, though in silence.

"Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed," Dumbledore says kindly, smiling at the two boys. "I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."

Harry and Cedric glance at each other, nodding, before leaving the room together. As he passes, you give Harry a small nod and walk forward towards Dumbledore.

"Headmaster, I'd like a quick word, if you please."

"Certainly," Dumbledore says, and you lead him just outside the room, closing the door behind you so you're out of earshot. Harry and Cedric are still walking down the Hall and they both glance back at the two of you. You give them both a little wave, which is returned.

"Sir," you start quietly, wondering how to go about this as calmly as possible, "you're hardly being serious about this, right? Harry can't compete in this, he's far too young."

"I am afraid there is nothing I can do about it," Dumbledore replies simply. "His name came out of the Goblet and as per the rules he must compete."

"But you can't let him compete!" you hiss. "I don't care about the rules — you have to fix this! You're Headmaster, you just can't let him go ahead with this — "

Dumbledore says your name strongly. "I know you're concerned for Harry, I understand that. But there really is nothing I can do. In hindsight, a magically binding contract was not the most clever decision..."

You sigh, biting your lip. "What if Professor Moody is right? And someone really did do that to put Harry in danger? I can't just stand by and let that happen."

"There is a possibility, of course," Dumbledore says slowly, "but we will always be there, at every task, and if such danger arises we will handle it. I promise you that."

"Okay..." you say semi-certainly, nodding your head. "Okay, okay. You're right. You're right."

"Would you like to join us for a nightcap, perhaps?" He asks you, brightening.

"No, no, I ought to get to bed..." you say dismissively, glancing down at your watch. The thought of spending more time in there with Moody's brooding presence and Ludo Bagman's suffocating energy is rather unpleasant to you now.

"Have a good night, professor."

You smile at him and he nods as you leave and he enters the room once again.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

Before you know it, October turns to November and the 3rd sneaks up on you, whacking you in the face with cruel realisation when you see its date circled several times in red ink on your calendar and dotted with little hearts.

Sirius' birthday.

It always feels weird. Like your wedding anniversary, like your own birthday. It's weird to not have him here with you to celebrate. It's hard to remember birthdays that you weren't together for.

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

November, 1976

"Happy birthday!" You quickly reach up and wrap your arms around Sirius, giving him a short hug that part of you wishes was longer. It's hard to bite down the urge to just grab and kiss his beautiful lips without a care in the world.

"Thank you, dearest," Sirius says, bowing dramatically to you. James comes bounding down the dormitory stairs after him and forcefully stretches a party hat string over Sirius' head to match his own, muttering a complaint about his mop of dark hair getting in the way.

"I said it first!" James says to you competitively, wagging his finger. "As soon as he woke up, in fact! I was the first to wish him a happy sixteenth!"

Sirius raises his eyebrows. "As soon as you woke me up. Poor me, torn from my blissful sleep by an errant goblin!"

James gives Sirius a shove, who just laughs. He's got such a lovely laugh, you can't help but smile at him. He looks good this morning. He's pulled his long hair back into a half-up, half-down style, and two silver studs adorn his earlobes. You can see one of his tattoos peaking out from under the top of his unbuttoned shirt. You've never seen all of his tattoos, but from what you've been told there are many, and they're everywhere. You really want to see them all — and getting to see the rest of his body would just be an added bonus.

"Ugh, if you're really going to ogle him that much, just ask him out," comes Alice's hiss in your ear, as she and Lily come down the stairs.

You swat her hand away. "Gross."

She rolls her eyes, unimpressed, as she jabs her fingers into your sides and you jump, letting out an involuntary yelp.

"Alice, you bitch — "

"Lily!"

James has just caught sight of Lily and the pupils of his eyes dilate so much that you're expecting them to pop out of his head. Lily groans when she sees him, increasing her pace and grabbing Alice's arm, pulling her through the common room, saying something about getting breakfast. Alice shrugs her shoulders at you as she's tugged out of the portrait hole.

"Wait, Lily, wait!" James calls desperately, hurrying to catch up to his beloved Evans.

You exchange a glance with Sirius now that the two of you have been left alone, laughing at James' antics.

"Do you think she's even close to saying yes?"

"Not a chance," you respond simply, chuckling. "She hates him more than anything in the world, apparently."

"Fair. I do too," Sirius agrees and you giggle.

"Oh, I got you a present, by the way!" You remember, pulling the clasp off your bag and reaching inside to grab a hold of a small box wrapped neatly in red and gold paper.

Sirius' eyes widen. He hadn't expected you to get him a present. "You didn't have to get me anything — "

"Nonsense! We're friends, aren't we? And friends get each other presents on their birthdays," you say with a smile, handing him the box.

He raises his eyebrows, tapping the item with one of his long, dainty fingers, one adorned with two silver rings. "How do I know you're not only doing this so I have to get you a present on your next birthday?"

You grin mischievously, winking at him. "I never reveal my secrets. Now go on, open it!"

Sirius begins to tear away at the paper, revealing a brand-new red and gold scarf — Gryffindor colours. He pulls it out and holds it up, inspecting it.

"I noticed your current one has gotten a bit shoddy-looking, so..." you chuckle sheepishly.

Sirius smiles genuinely at you. "Thank you, really. I love it."

He throws it around his neck and pumps his chest out exaggeratedly, smirking expectantly at you. "Well? How do I look?"

"Fabulous, Sirius. Absolutely fabulous," you deadpan.

He grins. "I knew it. I'm gorgeous."

You roll your eyes, placing your hands on his shoulders and steering him through the common room. "So modest. Come on, I'm starved, let's get breakfast."

"Not without us, I hope," Remus says as he appears behind you, Peter in tow.

"Morning, you two," you greet with a smile.

"Mornin'," Peter replies, smiling at you before he returns to rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

You chuckle at Remus and Peter, both wearing party hats that match Sirius'. You point up at them. "Do I get one?"

"You can have mine," Remus says quickly, reaching up to pull his off. "Please."

You wave your hands. "Oh, no. You're rocking that hat, Moony. I can't take that away from you."

His shoulders slump in disappointment as you stop him from pulling the hat off, laughing.

He looks at Peter, who just shrugs defeatedly. "James will only force it back onto you if you take it off."

"He'd probably put a permanent sticking charm on it," Sirius says as your group clambers out of the portrait hole. "Then you'd never get it off."

The four of you make your way down the corridor, travelling down the spiral staircase you all know so well. You wave at a few portraits on the wall as you pass, receiving a few smiles and greetings in return.

"Oh, Peter, I finished that book you gave me," you tell him. "Saltwater Sentiments?"

"What did you think of it?"

"I loved it! Godric, I actually couldn't put it down," you say excitedly. "Like, I was brushing my teeth last night with my toothbrush in one hand and the book in the other."

"Me too! I read it in like a day," Peter responds, matching your enthusiasm.

"Oh, oh, and you know that part where Lyra has to kill Evascus? I sobbed," you say dramatically. "I was genuinely getting emotional over it and I remember audibly saying 'what the fuck' to that part."

"You're so right — "

"Oh, yeah, I read that too," Sirius chimes in suddenly, looking expectantly at the two of you.

Peter and you stop talking, turning to the birthday boy himself in slight confusion.

"Really?" you say, surprised. "You read it?"

"Yeah," he says simply. "Why do you find that so surprising?"

You shrug. "Just...doesn't really seem your type of book, if I'm honest. Didn't have you pegged as the emotional romance type."

"You never mentioned reading it before," Peter starts, confused. "I offered it to you ages ago but you said — "

"That I'd already read it!" Sirius cuts across quickly, smiling weirdly and chuckling. "You, my dear friend, have a terrible memory, haha!"

Peter just stares back at him, eyes squinted and mouth agape in confusion. Remus sighs, shaking his head as you enter the Great Hall.

You grab hold of Sirius' arm and reach up to whisper in his ear. "Nice try."

Sirius ignores the tingle that shoots down his spine at your soft voice in his ear.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, feigning oblivion and hurrying up to the table so he can sit himself down beside James, who is still trying to talk to Lily.

You slot yourself in beside Lily, starting to pile breakfast items onto your plate.

"Sorry that we left you back there," Lily says to you. "There was an irritating pest trying to cling to me. Seriously, we've moved places on this table about five times already and he follows us every single time."

You snort, giving Lily an unsurprised look. "Can't say I'm shocked."

"Ugh, I wish he'd just leave me alone already," she says quietly, giving him a distasteful look across the table.

"Hey, James," you say, taking a sip from your orange juice.

"Yeah?"

"Lily wants you to fuck off."

Alice chokes on her water, sending her into a violent coughing fit and Sirius puts an arm around James defensively.

"Don't say that!" he says in mock seriousness. "You know he's very sensitive."

"Hey!" James exclaims, giving Sirius a highly affronted look.

"Being sensitive isn't a bad thing, James," Alice says. "Lots of girls like guys who are sensitive."

"Any girl that'd like him would have to be mad," Lily mutters disdainfully.

James sighs, nodding his head at Lily, smiling confidently at her. "You'll fall in love with me yet, Lilyflower. Just you wait."

You gag in true disgust. "Please don't ever say that again. I think I'll actually be sick."

"Same," Lily groans. James opens his mouth to say more, but doesn't get the chance to when two pretty Hufflepuff girls approach your table.

"Happy birthday, Sirius," one of them purrs, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously at him. Something twists your gut and you watch the scene before you unfold, biting your tongue to stop yourself from saying something nasty. The same girl pulls a piece of parchment out of her pocket, and bends over to slip it into his hand, her hand lingering on his for far longer than you'd like. She very clearly has her shirt unbuttoned more than usual, giving everyone at the table a clear view of her cleavage, especially Sirius. "A little present for you, yeah?"

You look at Alice, raising your eyebrows. The girl straightens back up, smiling suggestively at Sirius, before turning with her friend and giggling their way back to the Hufflepuff table.

Sirius unfolds the parchment and you watch as his eyes skim the paper, grimacing at one point.

"What's it say?" James asks curiously, craning his neck to try and read it.

Sirius pushes him away, eyes still fixed on the note. He glances up at you at one point, expression unreadable.

"Meet me in the sixth floor corridor tonight at 7 if you want a real present," he reads aloud and you fail to hide your wince. "I can show you some of my special magic."

Your group takes in a collective, entirely grossed-out gasp.

You push your breakfast plate away from you. "Well, that just made me lose my appetite."

"I regret asking," James says, a disgusted look on his face. "I don't know what I was expecting, but a sex-capade invitation was not it."

"James!" you and Remus groan in unison.

"Who the fuck says sex-capade? Just disgusting, James. Get a grip."

"What? That's what it is!" James replies defensively. "Or are you gonna pretend that she just wants to show Sirius a bit of wingardium leviosa?"

You snort, bursting into laughter and banging your hand on the table.

"Well, I guess we all know now not to bother looking for Sirius this evening," Remus remarks, sipping from his goblet and raising his eyebrows at Sirius over the rim.

"Ha-ha. You're all very funny," Sirius says blankly, folding his arms at the lot of you. "But I won't be going."

Your eyes widen, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Oh, really? Sirius Black is passing up on the opportunity to spend the evening with a pretty girl? Who are you?"

"I'm already spending this evening with a pretty girl," he replies immediately. "One far prettier than her, I'll have you know."

Sirius Black, of course. Every time you expect him to have matured a little, to realise that perhaps running around after every girl in the school will get him nowhere and will only get him in about half the school's bad books, he goes right back to his player ways.

You like to think you take offense to his behaviour because of your strong moral code, because you can't stand for the way he jumps from person to person, forgetting that each of them have feelings and emotions he ought to care about. But, to say a truth you pretend isn't true and you don't like to admit, you just wish he'd take more interest in you instead.

"Ah, good for you," you say, a tinge of agitated displeasure sneaking into your voice. "And who might that be?"

"Well, you are going to spend time with me on my birthday, right?"

Your mouth drops open stupidly and you try to find words somewhere in your blanking brain, the opportune time for a quick rebuttal swiftly passing you by.

Alice 'oohs' loudly, giggling, and you sit straighter, attempting to appear confident and unfazed by his flirts. "Yeah, well, I'm afraid it'll take far more than saying I'm pretty to get me in your corner, Black. You've got to try a bit harder than that."

You're lying through your teeth, of course. You've been in his corner for so long now, you're not even sure it's a corner anymore. You're in his circle, his triangle, his fucking graduated cylinder for all you care. He has you hooked around his little finger and you don't think he even realises it.

From across the table, Sirius just winks at you. A silent confirmation that he's up for that challenge.

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

→ all kinds of interaction appreciated ♡

♡ hugs and kisses to my taglist loves:

@wholelottalove05 @izuoyarmin @hyperspeedo @carpe000diem @jennifer0305 @idkman5335

#sirius black x you #sirius black #sirius black x reader #harry potter #the marauders #angst #angst with a happy ending #fanfiction #hp #fanfic #marauders #ff #wizarding world #sirius orion black

[beneathashadytree]

Hello ! How do you feel now? I hope you're better now, I love all your yuumori fic so much,they're so comforting and pretty in characters!❤️

May I request some fic about clingy Albert James Moriarty x reader please?But take your time to write that and rest properly,I will wait🤗

By the way congrats for 2k,sweetie💕

CLINGY - ALBERT MORIARTY X READER

Warnings : none I think, this is not proofread, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : domestic fluff <3

Word count : 0.8K words (oops)

Additional notes : Hi there!! I’m feeling much better now, thank you. I’m so glad that you enjoy my fics, because I love writing them so much! Sorry for taking so long to get to this; I had to finish my event requests first. Hope you like this one!💗

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

“How about now?”

“No.”

“Please?” Albert dragged out the word, his emerald eyes begging them with all the charm he possessed.

Sighing, they set down the knife on the counter, and turned to face him. “If I went to cuddle you right now, we’d starve. No one’s home to cook us anything, and lord knows what’d happen if I let you in the kitchen.”

“Louis came back a few minutes ago,” he pointed out, his expression pleading once more. “We can leave it all to him and go upstairs.”

With a roll of their eyes (though they both knew they actually felt no annoyance whatsoever), they hummed and began to wash their hands in the sink. Already grinning mischievously at them as he knew he’d gotten his way, Albert dragged them away as soon as they’d dried their hands on the small cloth beside them.

***

“Happy now?” they asked, despite their grumbling holding no malice and their eyes full of only fond exasperation.

The man currently in their arms nodded, a satisfied quirk to his lips as he nuzzled deeper into their chest. Their nails scratched at his scalp in the way he so liked, and their other hand busied itself with rubbing soothing circles on his back, inching lower and delighting in the sight of him visibly shivering with satisfaction.

Sheer exhaustion was evident on his face, and the bags under his eyes told them that he’d probably been incredibly busy the few days he’d been away doing God knows what. The least they could do when he looked like that was embrace him and hold him tight in their open arms, even if he was being more demanding than usual.

After all, indulging him also meant indulging in their own desire to have him close at all times. Giving in to their own urges, they tucked a soft strand of hair behind his ear, and pressed a soft, barely-there kiss on his forehead. It was impossible; holding back their own affections when he was right there, his weight comforting ontop of them.

Albert clung impossibly tighter to their shirt, as though the closer proximity would somehow fuse them together. A hand crept under their clothes, splaying across their waist in a manner that was so intimate, and yet so chaste. Deft fingers climbed up their spine and left a tingling trail on their skin, and it suddenly felt like all was right in the world.

“What’s going on with you today?” they chuckled, sifting through his soft locks. “I haven’t seen you this clingy since… forever, I suppose.”

Without uttering another word, their lover simply kissed the exposed skin of their chest that he could reach, eyes closed in bliss, so it seemed. It only made the warm feeling in their chest swell to twice its size and threaten to burst through their ribs.

“Fine, don’t answer, you big baby.” They shook their head, and watched as Albert burrowed even further into their warmth, his eyelashes fluttering and his fingers gently squeezing their hips, as though reminding them that he was enjoying every bit of his childish charade.

In all honesty, they liked it all the more, seeing how he reveled in the feeling. Perhaps he was acting a bit spoilt, but he deserved it; what with all the time he was forced to spend away from them. And besides, they had always been the clingy one, so a switch in places was a rather welcome change. They were more than willing to return the favor of being loved so hard it healed all the wounds they never even knew they had.

When he finally spoke up, it was nothing more than mumbling against their shirt, “Do you have anything scheduled for the rest of the day?”

Thinking for a few seconds, they came to the conclusion that they had nothing left to do. “Not really. I finished everything I wanted to get done early in the morning. Moran’s snoring woke me up from the end of the damn hall.”

He breathed out a short laugh, before he stilled once more, hands all over them in the best way possible. Their bodies so entwined they couldn’t tell where they started and ended, it felt like falling deeper in love with nothing to stop them or hold them back—especially when every sound he made brought forth even more adoration from their depths.

“I’ll fall asleep like this,” he huffed out, his words coming out slower than usual.

“You can take a nap, just for a little while. It’s alright, you know.” Patting the back of his head tenderly, they offered their body up for a pillow.

“Just for a little while…” Albert muttered, already drifting off into a dreamland, where none of his usual worries could follow him, and where his darling was ever-present.

Taglist: @sherlockscumslut @lilias-highlights @whitecelluyu @wifeofkyojuro

#imagine #oneshot #anime #fluff #domestic #moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #mtp #ynm #yuumori #albert moriarty #albert moriarty x reader #albert moriarty oneshot #albert moriarty fluff #ynm albert #ynm albert moriarty #yuumori albert #yuumori albert moriarty #albert x reader #albert oneshot #albert fluff #albert james moriarty #albert james moriarty x reader

[rosaline-black]

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗 - 𝙻𝚘𝚔𝚒 𝙻𝚊𝚞𝚏𝚎𝚢𝚜𝚘𝚗

Category: Loki Laufeyson X Fem!Reader

Summary: you are but a simple handmaiden, daughter of the cook, but Loki is enchanted by you.

A simple cook's daughter should not have taken his attention as you had. It just wasn't fair. Loki remembered the first time he laid eyes on you. He must have been only around six or seven. A small boy tumbling through the gardens of the palace, his eyes wide with wonder, gazing upon the mountains of flowers and herbs.

A sweet giggle took his attention as his green eyes scanned the fields before him, a small girl stood staring up at who he presumed to be her mother. The older woman slipped a yellow flower behind her ear and passed her a book before pressing a kiss to her daughter's forehead, retreating to the castle.

Now Loki wasn't sure what he was feeling, it was unfamiliar and almost painful, his stomach burnt and his cheeks were heating up as his eyes travelled all over this girl's face. How mortifying.

Before he could run away, the girl caught his eye and he was ready to pass out right then and there. Her lips curled into a kind smile as she clumsily waved at him, almost welcoming him over. So Loki reluctantly stumbled over, his eyes still glued to her.

"Hello... my mummy said if I see someone alone I should invite them over... or give them a gift… here…" you said sweetly, passing him the yellow flower from behind your ear.

Loki huffed almost defensively "I wasn't alone... I was just... looking for my brother..." he spat it almost unkindly, but still took the flower from your outstretched palm.

The girl's smile wavered but she seemed determined to befriend him, something Loki himself wasn't accustomed to.

Years passed and an understanding between the two of you grew. They were by no means close, which was mainly Loki's fault. He was completely infatuated with you, to the point where merely being in your presence reduced him to a bumbling fool. However much he pretended to stay aloof, one little smile from you and he was drawn back in, this is how it had been for centuries.

Now young adults, you becoming a fully-fledged handmaiden and him competing with his brother for the crown, he wanted nothing more than to find a way to speak with you, court you. It was just difficult.

His father was adamant about him meeting the ladies of the court, the more appropriate suitors that he had lined up for him. All of them were far too gaudy and judgmental. He could tell they didn't care for him personally, just his status which sickened him to his stomach. When they'd attempt to chat to him he could only see you. Your beautiful smile without a hint of malice or greed.

On this particular evening, he found himself being spoken to a particularly pushy lady of the court, Sigrad. They were seated in the corner of the room, his chin resting in his palm as he tried to take in anything she was spewing, it was mainly gossip she had picked up from her time around nobles. Pure dribble.

"So I was saying to this one lady of the court that..." Sigrad had been distracted by something behind him as she clicked her fingers "Excuse me... maid? More wine..."

A pair of delicate footsteps sounded behind him and as you approached Loki turned, his eyes igniting as his lips curled into a smile. Sigrad must have caught wind of this and she cleared her throat, glaring at you with her nose raised high. With a flick of her wrist, Sigrad swatted the bottle of red Asgardian wine causing it to spill all down the front of your white linen maid apparel.

"Oh sorry about that maid... fingers must have slipped..." Her smirk alone proved there was no sincerity in her apology whatsoever. Before Loki could even react, you were racing from the banquet hall.

"So where were we-"

"We were nowhere Sigrad... take your pathetic pompous self somewhere else before I have you removed from the court for good..."

You were in pieces. The man you loved was surely now reminded of your lowly status, in probably the most humiliating way possible. That pompous whore had the nerve to embarrass you, for what reason? You weren't sure.

Pressing your back up against the pillars outside the banquet hall, you finally allowed the tears that had been building to fall as breathless sobs wracked your entire body. For once you would love to feel as though your status didn't affect the way Loki would treat you, but your fate seemed to not fall that easily.

A gentle hand touched your shoulder causing you to finally open your eyes, being met with Loki's concerned ones. His brows furrowed as his eyes searched her face.

"Are your alright love? What that shrew did to you was awful..."

You merely nodded and pulled away from him before he could pull you back in again. Logistically, this could never work between you, and no way could you be his secret. Not that you expected him to have any interest in a simple maid. Daughter of the woman who cooked the king’s meals, you were nothing.

"Where are you going?" Loki called out from behind as you began to turn away and race down the hall.

"My prince I have duties to complete this is not the time..."

"You're upset, let me help you..."

You didn’t mean to, your hand swinging around in an attempt to silence his pleas for your stay, that same hand connecting with the prince’s nose. Crimson liquid poured from his nose like a tap, and your hand reached out in a panic, almost like you were having a crack at catching the blood to relieve his Asgardian leather of getting damaged somehow. While all of this you couldn’t help but mumble mindless and strained versions of the same apology, well if he didn’t like you before, he probably hated you now.

“No matter… really I have a handkerchief it was an accident”

You had no idea that he was doing everything to stop his voice from wavering. Not because of the pain of a surely broken nose, but because the feeling of your warm caring hands on his face had sucked all thoughts from his brain. He thought of you like a vacuum for his inhibitions, a strong mead silencing all logical thinking.

“My prince… I’m so sorry… please just don’t terminate my employment… my mother and I need the money and-“

“Do you think that of me? That I would… oust you out after a mere accident…”

Your eyes finally met as you took one step to distance yourself from him. Would he? All the other handmaidens spoke negatively of the younger prince. He was cold, didn’t enjoy the same sexual escapades as his brother, and for the most part, kept to himself. You didn’t understand why those were negative attributes, you had always enjoyed the quieter people, they were calmer and usually kinder. Maybe you had overthought it? The prince couldn’t have been that bad, he had defended you…

“No… no sorry, I just… gods this is so embarrassing…”

Your eyes cast down again, but a singular finger lifted your chin to face up, those eyes creasing, pleading with you. What was he doing? Was he pulling your face to his? Were your lips about to brush?

Well, you never found out, a pair of heavy footsteps approached, and the moment was ruined. The worst part was the way Loki drew away, like the thought of being caught with you was ever so mortifying.

“Brother your timing is impeccable…”

You couldn’t bare to hear the rest, you just couldn’t. So, you ran.

Loki couldn’t stop punishing himself. You had disappeared since that night, he assumed you were avoiding him, not surprisingly. He had completely cocked it all up. The prince had guessed you thought he didn’t want to be seen so close to you, but that wasn’t the case. Loki knew if you were seen with him by anybody, even his witless oaf of a brother, your job would be at stake.

Not only would you be terminated for coercing a royal, but you’d be ousted from your home in the castle, and you and your mother would be reduced to beggars in a nearby village. The thought kept him up at night.

However, Loki had an idea. The thought of living a life courting anybody but you was not a life worth living, which is exactly why he was on his way to the throne room. Odin would have to allow this, and if he didn’t well he would find a way, you were worth it.

“Enter son…” his father’s cold voice called.

There he sat, the man with all the power, the god of gods who controlled his son’s fate.

“You requested a meet son…”

“Yes, father… I know you wish for me to court someone…-“

Instantly interrupting his son, Odin continued “Ah yes… how was Sigrad? I know she has an interest in you… very accomplished young woman… soon to be in the running for one of you mothers ladies in waiting..-“

“Father she’s insufferable…”

He definitely shouldn’t have snapped, he was here to bare his soul to his father, offer up anything to allow him to let him call you his own, and he was already being cruel. Loki needed to make a note about controlling his temper, even if his father made the fire of anger burn within him.

“Oh? So is there someone else?” his voice called out, a questioning brow raised.

“Yes… but she’s…-“Odin’s beard he couldn’t even get the words out.

“Spit it out son…” his father yelled.

“ITS’S Y/N FATHER…” He shouted in return, his usually pale countenance red with emotion. He could imagine where you were right now, probably folding bed linens and caring for self-important nobles who didn’t deserve your attention. No, they should be doting on you, for your benevolent goodness alone. You didn’t deserve to be some handmaiden his father was probably trying to remember as he filed through his own thoughts.

“The handmaiden… cooks daughter…” he muttered, clearly not all that impressed.

 The silence was thick, the worst silence Loki had ever experienced. This could be it, Odin could banish you here and now, blaming you for bewitching him. A sigh left his father’s lips and Loki let his mouth fall in a straight line, holding his breath for the verdict that would decide his life.

“Very well… you can court her, but her position remains until she accepts your courtship… after she will have to remain as a noblewoman, bad for the image to have you marrying a maid…”

Three weeks, three whole weeks you had managed to avoid the god of mischief. Purposely trading shifts with the other handmaidens so you wouldn’t be fixing up the prince’s chambers. You couldn’t handle the cringeworthy altercation you had shared that evening. It was the type of thing that haunted your dreams, punching the man you loved and then nearly kissing him.

Your thoughts had been so all-consuming you had yet to notice the tall lithe figure watching you from the doorway of the washing rooms.

“Sorry…”

You jumped out of your skin at the deep voice your skin prickling with goosebumps. You turned your body around, your eyes widening at the sight before you. There the prince stood, yellow flower in hand, nervous smile twitching as his eyes didn’t leave you. Before you could question him, he spoke again.

“A young girl once told me if I saw somebody alone I should try to befriend them… or gift them… here”

The flower resembled the one you had given him all those years ago, unbeknownst to you, it was that same very flower. Preserved by his mother’s magic that same day, it was Loki’s greatest possession and now, now he was giving it back to you. A symbol of his devotion.

“My flower…” you mumbled almost dumbly, what was happening?

“I have come… to ask you… gods why is this so hard…”

“Yes…”

“But you have no idea what I was going to ask?” Loki stated his eyebrows raising as you walked to him, placing your palms on his shoulders.

“Well unless I have misjudged this awfully… I believe you’re asking… to court me, for reasons I’m still unsure of…”

Loki huffed again, that fond memory of your first meeting giving you déjà vu.

“Because you my dear… are the most enchanting, kind-hearted, and selfless creature of all of Asgard… and I… I’ve loved you for longer than I care to admit…”

His words made your heart flutter like thousands of doves were blooming from your chest. His lips on your own making the feeling repeat.

#loki x reader #loki #loki of asgard #loki x f!reader #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #marvel #asgard #thor #odin #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson x fem!reader #loki laufeyson x reader

[hawkinshighdropout]

Waiting For The Snake.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x (female) Reader

Summary: Eddie has a crush on the girl who works in the pet store, so he visits daily just to admire her and try and work up the courage to speak to her. You've noticed him around, so you take the chance to surprise him, and well? He's surprised!

Warnings: No warnings, this is pure and silly fluff content. Unless you count a couple of curse words as needing a warning? Idk, I haven’t written fanfics in like 8 years so I’m a little rusty…

Note/Request: Requested by @boomhauer. “Hmm…🤔🤔 a request, eh? Eddie ends up adopting a snake/Guinea pig/ferret just because he likes to go to the local pet store to see the cashier but has not earthly idea how to take care of one? Idk 😅?”

Word Count: 1.3k

Send me prompts to write about!

Saturday afternoons were the busiest days for you at work, your shop was overflowing with families looking for a pet to fill the void, nothing but the sound of birds chirping, cats meowing, Guinea pigs squeaking and children screaming cutting through the chaos. Usually, you would work at the front desk, checking out the customers or answering any questions that beady eyed children had, but due to it being the weekend, you were constantly running around in circles fetching things or helping people or even comforting animals who were traumatised by heavy handed thumb suckers.

You were currently in the open display enclosure with the rabbits that you had for sale, tidying up the mess that the crotch goblins had made and making sure to give the animals extra love as you apologised on behalf of the unruly customers for how the animals got manhandled. Animals? You loved. Children? Not so much. Darkness catches the corner of your eye, glancing up from where you were to see the handsome guy that comes in here daily. He never bought anything, he just looked around before leaving, your brows scrunching a little as he seemed sadder than usual.

Putting the rabbit down to let it continue hopping around, you dust off your work pants and climb out of the enclosure, deciding that today would be the day that you spoke to the lonely stranger, you felt the urge to turn his frown upside down as he was far prettier when he smiled.

“Welcome to PetSmart!” you announce to the back of the stranger, clapping your hands just once to gather his attention, a snort escaping you as the poor guy jumps out of his skin and shrieks whilst stumbling back from you in surprise.

“Holy shit, you scared me!” he groans, looking apologetically at a nearby family for the interruption and foul language, narrowing his eyes at you as you couldn’t contain your cackle of laughter.

“Easy, Tiger. I’m just seeing if you need any assistance.” You counter, hands up in the air in defence to try and make yourself appear less scary.

“N-no, I’m good… thank you.” He mumbled, voice a little wobbly as his cheeks turned pink and he became a little flustered.

“Are you sure? You come in here every single day without buying a thing, either you’re a shitty thief or you are a little lost” you joke, folding your arms together over your chest as you smirk in his direction.

It took him a second or two to gather himself before he cleared his throat and flipped a switch inside of him, fake confidence oozing from him as he pointed behind him mindlessly.

“Actually, I know what I want. Just had to be sure, you know? I want one of these..” he gestured to one of the Corn Snakes behind him, smug grin on his face.

“Corn Snake, hm? I would have taken you for more of a black cat kinda guy…” you chuckle, playfully mocking his dark and gothic choice of clothing. You thought he was cute, so there was no malice behind your words whatsoever.

“S-snake?!” he stuttered, whipping his head around to see the small snake slithering about inside of the cage, gulping nervously before trying to play it cool, “Uh.. yes, one of them…”

Stepping aside, you take the key from your belt loop and unlock the enclosure door with a smile, being careful to encourage the snake to come out. Patiently watching as the orange reptile wrapping itself around your palm as your free hand shuts and locks the door so the other snakes don’t escape. You hold your hand out towards the taller man but sense his tense and uncomfortable disposition.

“If you hold out your hand, I can let him wrap around you and you can see him better for yourself…” you smile, trying to soothe him as he was on edge.

“I, I’m good—I’m good actually, yeah.” He’s stumbling over his words as his head shakes quickly in disagreement, it was clear that he had no intention to hold the snake, let alone purchase one.

“Alright, show’s over, big boy.” You whisper to the tiny snake in your hand, unlocking the door and making sure it was safely in its bed before you lock the enclosure again.

“How about we try something a little… fluffier?” you suggest, he nodded his head quickly in agreement whilst tripping over his feet to follow as you lead him towards the Guinea Pigs. Climbing over the barrier and taking a seat amongst the adorable squeaking animals, you watch as he nervously sits down close to you, the animals soon scurrying over to him and giving him attention. He seems to relax in this pen, causing the corners of your lips to tug up into a fond smile.

“So, tough guy. What’s your name?” you ask, passing him a handful of spinach that he can feed them, watching fondly as he is doing well with them.

“I’m Eddie, sorry, I didn’t think to introduce myself..” he mumbles whilst stroking a guinea pig and cooing over how it munches down on the green.

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you,” you sigh softly, welcoming the break of hanging with someone your age as opposed to the screaming children you normally have to talk down to, “So, which one of these guys are you gonna take home with you?”

“Uh… I’m not sure, I have no fucking clue how to take care of these things and I don’t wanna get them killed just ‘cause I’m a dumbass..” he pouts, scratching the fur of the ginger in his lap.

“Don’t worry, I can get you setup. We can go through all of the things you’ll need, and we send you home with a bunch of flyers and cheat sheets on how to take care of them. Plus, our phone number is on the back so you can call us if you’re unsure of something,” you reassure him, lightly bumping your shoulder to his own to comfort him.

“I dunno, I live in a trailer with my uncle so I’m not even sure that we’ve got the space, might have to wait until I move out and find an apartment after I graduate.” He confesses.

“That’s not a problem, you’re already making good decisions if you’re willing to pass on one of these sweethearts because you can’t provide them with their ideal living conditions. You’re already steps ahead of half the families that come in here, they’re so reckless” you groan in annoyance, wishing people had more respect and love for animals. They were part of the family, not just some toy they can get bored of.

“Munson and good decision making in the same sentence? Well, I’ll be damned.” He snorts, tilting his head up a little to grin over at you, which you respond with a simple fond eye roll.

“Oh, shut up,” you groan playfully, “I’m sure you’re far better than you even give yourself credit for!”

“You’d be surprised…” he smirks, focusing his attention back down on the pet in his arms, seeming to have taken a liking to this little guy in particular.

“You know… We have a part time job going at the minute? You could fill out an application and I could put in a good word for you? It would give you the experience and responsibility of taking care of animals without the fear of having to do it alone at home?” you suggest.

“Wait, really?!” he seemed surprised that you would go out of your way to do something for someone you had just met.

“Totally! You’d have to learn to deal with the snakes and lizards, though… You’ve gotta learn to take care of all the animals we sell, not just the cute ones. But don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand and keep you safe…” you giggle, loving how flustered he became.

“Where do I sign up?!” he blushes.

#Eddie Oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fluff #stranger things smut #eddie munson #eddie munson edit #eddie fluff #Eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #imagine #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson x chrissy cunningham #angst #fluff #oneshot #fanfic

[marcelwrites]

I hosted for another private function today. The team worked well together, no fuck ups whatsoever, everyone pulled their weight, and the mood was positive overall despite the event being a wake. No tears were shed, at least not from what I saw. I did see some family and a lot of family friends though. After work I streamed for a few hours and that's always fun, even if I spend most of that time clowning on poorly made games (scams with the loose skin of a video game would be a more appropriate descriptor) and shooting the breeze with strangers. I think there's this beautifully unifying element of bad video games. There's also a couple of people trying to defend them but for the most part we all just have a blast talking about why it sucks, what we'd improve about, if the developers are scammers or just incompetent, etc. I never used to understand why so many kids wanted to be 'content creators' as a full-time job but I can vaguely understand the appeal now. It isn't because it's easier, because it's not, but rather because it allows people to find a likeminded community, it invites socialisation and interaction with others, and it helps people develop connections. The money is secondary, as it should be. That's my perception of it. I believe it's old-world thinking to label any sort of creation as being "not real work" as I so often hear older people refer to it as. It's an ignorant view of theirs but there's little-to-no malice behind it as it stems from a lack of understanding. I don't know what the workforce's going to look like in another 25 years or if we'll even be here at all but I have faith in the younger generations to make the right choices for themselves.

#marcelwrites #writing #words #personal #thoughts

[lollytea]

My eyes have been forced open to see the absolute amazing potential that is a willow and darius dynamic like. they're playful rivals. they kinda parallel each other. they both care about hunter. they annoy each other so much but you can tell there's no malice behind it– thank you so much for making me obsessed with this

And like I also gotta say I love the idea of (despite their bantering) darius being quite protective of willow because like. he knows she worked hard to gain her confidence and still struggles with insecurities. she hasn't told anyone that but Darius can tell, so he subtly tries to keep people from harming her (but it's not really that subtle) and !!! okay okay I will stop rambling but thank you for sharing all your ideas and everything, I love your blog sm

Yeah yeah yeah!!!! They are best friends!!!! They cannot stand each other!!!! He's her weird distant uncle!!!! She's the kid who keeps throwing eggs at his house!!!! He gives her advice on what moisturizer to use. She helps him choose which selfie from his photoshoot to use as his pfp because Hunter is no help whatsoever. They are at top of each others DM list on penstagram. They gossip constantly. They are cyberbullying each other. He complains whenever she's in his house. He worries that she and Hunter are having problems if he doesn't see her in his house for a few days. They have so much going on.

I LOVE the thought of him seeing a flicker of himself in her and being protective of her in spite of himself. He understands that it wasn't easy for her to get the point she's at so he'll do anything to preserve that.

I could see Boscha leaving a mean comment on one of Willow's pics and she wakes up the next morning to find a whole fucking online feud between Boscha and Darius. He's ripping every hair follicle out of her head. He doesn't give a FUCK that she's sixteen. Talk shit, get hit.

[lavenderbexlatte]

day 9 - collaring

nct 1.1k words gender neutral reader insert Reader x Ten Lee NSFW

🖤 warnings: morning sex! cat-based nicknames, shenanigans, bruising/marking, i love ten very very much 🖤

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

It just makes him look pretty.

That was the agreement, after a few different kinds of sessions using the collar. Actually to hold him in place and move him around with force? Not super convenient, and kind of painful for him in a way that isn't very sexy. For pet play, like actual animal stuff? Weirded him out after a few minutes, no matter how much he likes kitty-based nicknames.

But as an accessory, for some power play stuff and teasing and other assorted games? Perfect.

And he does look so pretty.

It's a pretty standard kink collar, just black leather and silver fixings. He'd taken it, though, the day it arrived to paint on some customization: an eye and some intricate patterns that he insists make up a flower but you think look more like tangled headphone wires. And a number 10, of course.

"I need to grab another water," Ten tells you.

It's only round, like, three, and he's already dehydrated. Punk-ass.

"Fine," you say, rolling dramatically onto your back.

He might be wearing the collar and a chain leash to boot, but with the number of bruises and bites that protest from your legs and back as you stretch, you think that you're actually the one who's owned, here.

The two of you have been going at it all morning, a rare case of both of you waking up more horny than hungry, so that's the only thing you have on. You, the bruises, and him, the collar and leash. You'd insisted that he put it on, even in his half-awake haze.

It's just so pretty.

Ten stands up and heads for the door, and you glance down at the end of the leash, still in your hand.

Seems like he's completely forgotten he has it on. You sit silently, biting back your laughter, until he gets around the corner and the leash pulls taut. There's a surprised noise, and then a pause, and then Ten reappears looking sheepish and amused.

"I'm gonna just unhook this," he says, reaching for the lobster clasp on the leash.

"No!" you whine.

"Then let go of the leash."

"What if you run away?" you muse. "Imagine the Missing Cat posters."

"You wouldn't."

"I would, and you know that."

He just fixes you with a glare, no malice behind it whatsoever despite his best efforts. You do drop the leash, though.

It trails behind him as he leaves the room, clinking against the wooden veneer flooring. The fridge doors opens, and shuts, and then he comes clinking back. Once he's in view again, you just hold out your hand.

"What?" he asks, cracking the water bottle for himself.

"Leash."

"You can come get it," he scoffs.

"That involves standing."

"And?"

"And as a bottom, I refuse."

"Just because you bottomed doesn't mean you're A Bottom," he replies.

Picky, picky. "Fine. Then as a person laying down, I refuse to stand up, since you're already standing. Leash."

Ten must really like you, because he scoops up the handle end of the leash from the ground and places it none too gently into your waiting hand. If he was a kitty with a tail, it would be twitching in annoyance at you.

"Thanks."

"Pest."

He drops gracefully back onto the mattress beside you, though, so he can't be too mad.

"How hard d'you think it would be..." you muse.

"Uh oh."

"...to get you to bruise in the shape of that collar?"

Ten loops a finger through one of the O-rings on the front of the accessory. "Sounds painful."

"You gave me like six hundred bruises. I wanna return the favor."

"I dunno..."

You wrap the chain around your hand a few times, taking away the slack on the leash and giving yourself easier access to the collar itself. Ten rolls his eyes as you tug gently on the leash, pulling the collar and making the leather press more insistently into his neck. Nothing that would hurt him, of course, especially since he's showing some doubt. But enough to get your point across.

"I'll take the leash off if you're done," you say. "But I think it'd be fun."

Ten leans away from you, making the collar pull even tighter.

"I do like bruises."

"You do," you agree.

"And I like you."

"You do?"

He reaches out to swat at you. "Surprisingly, yes."

You've gone three rounds already, but your refractory period is pretty good, and while Ten likes to take his time, you think you can coax him into some more. You're already getting a little riled at the idea of marking up his gorgeous throat. You can't help it, you're bitey.

"Lemme throw the water bottle in the recycling and we can talk about it," Ten says.

But when he goes to get up, you take a risk. You don't let go of the leash.

He doesn't choke, or anything, but he does stop short, sitting there upright as the leather digs into his neck and keeps him from getting any farther away. He glances at you.

You swallow. His eyes are blown wide, and he looks so-

"Can I...?"

He nods.

You give a firm pull on the leash, and he groans, light and pretty.

Earlier on when you'd tried this, back when you first got the collar, Ten hadn't been too keen on the discomfort (and, to be fair, pain, kink-induced sexy pain) that came with this kind of play. You'd barely tried it. But something seems to have changed.

"Is this okay?" you ask.

"You wanted a bruise, didn't you?" he replies.

It's not very sexy, the way you all but tackle him back to the mattress with a kiss. You remedy it quickly, though, one hand going to the O-ring to tug on the collar yourself, cutting out the middleman of the long chain leash, and the other hand going to Ten's half-hard cock.

"Can I really?" you ask, breathless.

Ten takes your lower lip between his teeth, biting playfully. "You don't trust me to say if it's too much?"

"I do," you answer as best you can.

"Then go ahead."

His skin is so flawless, golden-toned but pale from hours indoors, and he's got just the most delightful long, graceful neck. It was such a no-brainer to get him the collar, on aesthetics alone. And this is better than you'd imagined: the opportunity to use the damn thing to give him some lasting marks, to make him think about it - and you - even after he takes it off.

You grin down at him indulgently. "Okay, kitty cat, let's see how many times I can make you cum before this is over."

#kinktober 2022 #kpop kinktober #nct ten fanfic #nct ten smut #wayv ten fanfic #wayv ten smut #ten lee fic #ten lee smut #nct fanfic #nct smut #wayv fanfic #wayv smut

[s10127470]

BRIAN MAKES STEWIE HIS BITCH

Episode: Brian Writes a Best Seller (Season 9, Episode 6)

We open up the episode at the Griffin household, where Brian and Stewie receive a box from a delivery man.

They find out that the box was filled with copies of Brian's latest book, which didn't even sale one copy.

Along with that, the delivery guy reveals that there's a least 300 of those boxes.

And to add insult to injury, most of those boxes are filled with the shredded remains of his books.

That honestly takes a special level of malice to do something like that.

This predicament ends up being the "final straw" for Brian and he decides to quit writing all together.

A little white later, we find Brian and Stewie looking at a newspaper, where it's revealed that the reason his book didn't sale at all was because it was overshadowed by a newly released book written by Pauly Fucking Shore.

Now this is a case where either your book really sucks or God is just not letting you have any Ws whatsoever.

Especially if you're able to get beaten by a book written by the guy who started in Bio-Dome and gave this glorious cinematic masterpiece....

Realizing that actually being passionate about writing has basically not worked for him at all, Brian decides to give writing a book with no passion or care whatsoever a try.

And after three hours of writing, Brian's newest book "Wish It, Want It, Do It" is finished, and thanks to some close contacts of Stewie's, manages to get published.

And soon enough, the book quickly becomes a commerical success.

With the immediate success of the book, Brian decides to hire Stewie as his publicist.

And if the picture above didn't tell you already, you'd probably know that this won't end well.

Anyway, the success of the book lands Brian an interview with Tom Tucker, which Stewie accompanies him to.

Once arriving at the studio, Stewie threatens the guy who welcomes them and demands that he finds them an all-white room and some Fuji Water.

This also segways into a very confusing joke, with Brian pointing out that the bowl of M&Ms on the table in the waiting room are all gray, when they're obviously the usual colors typically found on M&Ms.

But on that topic real quick, is there even such a thing as gray M&Ms?

Huh.....I guess there is.

Shortly after the interview, Stewie tells Brian that he's just scheduled a book signing up in New York City.

After getting checked into the hotel and an drawn-out hook-up joke, the duo make it to the book signing.

Here we see just how Brian treats his fans.

First we see him with a middle-aged decent-looking woman, who is clearly passionate about the book and extremely grateful for being able to meet Brian in person.

Brian, on the other hand, doesn't feel the same way. As it's so obvious that he couldn't give less of a shit about this lady.

Not only coming off as completely uninterested in her genuine praise of him, but also actively getting her name wrong.

But when the next person is up (who happens to be much younger, more attractive woman than the last one), that's when Brian starts to actually give a damn.

And instead of giving his signature in her book, Brian gives her his phone number, which rightfully confuses and creeps out the woman.

What a dick.

Sometime later, the duo head off to dinner, where Brian reflects on his newfound fame and shows his appreciation for everything Stewie has done.

After they finish dinner, they spot Renée Zellweger having dinner and say hello to her.

But once they get outside, everything (as you would expect) immediately starts to go to shit.

Brian starts to harshly chew out Stewie for not reserving a table at the front of the restaurant, so they could sit near Renée, despite the obvious fact that he nor Stewie even knew she was there until after they finish dinner.

And feeling like Stewie needs to be punished, Brian decides to not give him a lift back to the hotel, leaving Stewie behind and forcing him to resort to calling a cab, which he can't even do because he has no money on him.

Putting aside the obvious reason why this scene is bad (that being Brian suddenly becoming a temperamental egomaniac and unfairly chewing out Stewie), we got to discuss the other biggest problem with this episode.

Stewie has been turn into a meek, quivering coward, when anyone who has seen even one episode of this show would know that Stewie is the last character you would want to fuck with.

May I remind you.....

-He's undoubtedly the most intelligent being alive, despite being only 1-year old. He possesses genius-level intelligence, which has allowed him to create various high-tech weaponry and gadgets that would put the world's greatest geniuses to shame. For God's sake, he literally created a fucking TIME MACHINE. We've been trying to do that for like over a century now, and we still haven't made much progress. Stewie was able to create one on his first try as if it was nothing! And despite having some childish tendencies here and there, his cognitive abilities are pretty much on the level of a full-grown adult.

-In addition to being incredibly intelligent, he's also incredibly cunning and persuasive. He not only knows how to get people on his side and outwit them, but also knows how to leave cuts in them that are REAL deep. And trust me, he has done this to Brian before and especially after this episode.

-Plus he not only knows how to hurt people emotionally, but also physically as well. Stewie is surprisingly skilled in martial arts and is a skilled marksman, hench whenever he's in a fight, he often uses firearms. And despite his size and age, he has been shown as being able to go toe-to-toe in a physical fight against grown adults.

Contrast that with Brian.....

-Whose intelligence is admittedly up for debut. Granted he's not a pure, unadulterated moron like Peter, but he's nowhere near the genius-level intellect of Stewie. And even with that, although he's described as being more intelligent than most of the cast, I don't think he's as smart as he makes himself out to be. It's been implied in many episodes during the post-revival that Brian makes himself look more intelligent than he is in order to make himself look good. Most of you probably know that there have been times when Stewie was discussing a concept with Brian, and Brian spoke over him in order to come off as intelligent. And when he usually does this, Stewie rightfully calls him out. Not helping his case is that Brian doesn't seem to have any form of primary or secondary education. In fact, his only form of education is college, which he flunked out of.....twice.

-Along with that, he's not shown to be particularly cunning or persuasive, which could be a byproduct of his huge ego. He has definitely shown that he is manipulative, especially towards women, but even that's pretty hit or miss. Because with the exception of Peter, Brian hasn't really succeed at manipulating anyone in the main or recurring cast. And even when he has, these victories are often short-lived and usually find a way to come back and bite him in the ass.

-And although he has been shown as being able to hold his own in a fight, he doesn't have quite the skill-set as some of the other characters, especially Stewie. And even when he is in a fight, most of the time, he often gets his ass handed to.

So with all being said, Stewie has no right to let Brian make him his bitch.

If anything, Stewie should be making Brian his bitch....or, male bitch to be exact.

And if this Stewie wasn't written by people who actually remembered he was a badass, he would do either of the following three options.

A. Retort with a well-deserve chewing of his own, shattering Brian's already fragile ego.

B. Send Brian on a one-way trip to the hospital.

C. Both.

Anyway, let's get back to actually talking about the episode.

So starting where we left off, we're treated with this admittedly pretty funny scene.

If this show was written by Butch Hartman, the punchline would've just been that it would just start raining.

Knowing his track record when it comes to comedy....

Once getting back to Quahog, Stewie is able to get back on Brian's good side after he books him an appearance on Real Time with Bill Maher to discuss separation of church and state with Maher and Christopher Hitchens.

However, when the day comes for the appearance, that doesn't last long as Brian continues to berate Stewie for the most asinine reasons.

The final straw happens when Brian is informed that Hitchens cannot attend, and that Arianna Huffington and Dana Gould will serve as replacement panelists. Blaming yet Stewie again, Brian angrily fires his ass on the spot and continues on to the show's panel.

And once the panel begins, we're finally treated to Brian's long-awaited comeuppance.

After being humiliated of live national television, Brian's career as a best-selling author immediately goes down the drain and returns back to Quahog with his tail between his legs.

Once returning home, he tries to apologize to Stewie for being an egotistical prick.

Keyword: tries.

As Brian half-heartedly does so, while unsubtly and passive-aggressively continues to blame Stewie for everything that went wrong.

And when Stewie asks if this "apology" will be the best he'll get, he responses with...

"Yeah, pretty much."

Once again, what a dick.

Let's Review:

Brian starts off as admittedly quite sympathetic, due to how despite how much he pours his heart into anything he writes, it never seems to get the attention or praise it truly deserves.

So when he finally does finally get that attention and praise, you can't help but feel happy for the guy.....

Until he curses out Stewie for something that was completely out of his control.

Stewie may be OP, but he isn't that OP. He doesn't have the ability of foresight, Brian.

He then proceeded to ditch Stewie in the middle of New York City, forcing him to find his own way back to the hotel, which he couldn't even do since....

He had no money.

He got shanked by a random thug the moment Brian took off.

And what's worse is that Stewie obviously doesn't deserve any of this.

The only bad thing that Stewie did in this entire episode was that he was admittedly a bit hostile when he became Brian's publicist at first.

But even with that, Stewie was clearly trying to get the best he could for Brian because he genuinely wanted to help him to succeed.

But Brian, thanks to his enormous ego, believes that anything Stewie does isn't good enough and constantly gets angry at him for things that are either completely pointless or were completely out of Stewie's control.

Only proving that Quagmire telling Brian that he's a spoiled brat was completely valid.

(Granted everything in that iconic chewing out was completely valid, and yes, we will be talking about that episode in the future).

And besides Stewie, he wasn't treating anyone well in general.

As I mentioned earlier, there were those two women at the book signing.

Where he more or less ignored the much-less conventionally attractive woman, but gave too much attention to the actually attractive woman.

But the crowding moment of this was during the Bill Maher scene.

During that scene, Maher, Huffington and Gould begin to criticize Brian's book, stating that it fails to meet the expectations of the public and is pretentious, repetitive, unhelpful, banal and manipulative (which is basically modern Brian in a nutshell).

Brian attempts to defend this possibly valid criticism in the same way most modern writers response to criticism....

By making it worse by claiming everyone who even remotely criticizes their work is an idiot and they're the ones who are wrong, not him.

Along with that, he insults the panelists for supposedly having little sense in literature.

And to make matters worse, Brian pettily insults Huffington's accent and Gould's feminine-sounding first name like an immature teenager.

As you would expect, this blows up in Brian's face.

He ultimately confesses that he too considers his book to be of a low standard, admitting that he wrote it in a day in the hope that it would sell.

This prompts Maher to loses what already little respect he has for Brian, stating that a real writer would stand by their work despite what others think.

And as an artist and a Fanfiction writer myself, I really appreciate Maher's statement.

And with that being said, it does make you wonder if Brian really is passionate about writing, or just does it in the hope of becoming famous.

Considering him, it's most likely a combination of both.

Though if you ask me, it's probably more of the latter.

And after returning home: humiliated, defeated, and with a career that was as short-lived as Aaron Taylor-Johnson's time in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, you would think Brian would reflect on this, realize the errors of his aways, and try to make amends with Stewie for treating him like shit.

But this is Family Guy and character development isn't one of its priorities.

And since Brian STILL has his head so far up his own ass, he refuses to accept that anything that has happened to him was his own fault and when he "apologizes", he still tries to blame Stewie.

You're a Bad Dog, Brian Griffin!

Well that was the very first episode of my newest series, "You're a Bad Dog, Brian Griffin!" and I hope you all liked it!

Next time we'll be looking at the episode "Brian the Closer".

So stay tune, and if you could, send me some requests for episodes to look at.

#family guy #brian griffin #review #you're a bad dog brian griffin! #for the segway for the new york part i was trying to find that sound effect that the sean moore (cinematic excrement) often uses #I couldn't find it #does anyone know where that sound effect comes from?

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf has to be my favourite Robb Stark and Jon Snow piece of writing out there. Seriously, the way you capture both of their personalities is so untouchable that it’s ruined others writing for me. I would rather reread HOTGW over and over again then find something new with a mere fraction of what you have going with your story. It’s truly so beautiful, the way you blend beauty and sorrow so wonderfully. You don’t paint one brother to be worse than the other, that it’s just simply a girl with two loves who has lost too much in her life at such a young age. You are such a gifted writer 😭🫶🏼

This is too kind seriously..thats the end of the ask..I have nothing more to say whatsoever..

Their characterizations are the ones I worry the most about, especially now that I am into a post resurrection Jon having to juggle his true character contrasted to what i think resurrection would change about who he is inside. So I appreciate it because I am constantly terrified you guys are going to think I am way off the mark with these characters. I work a lot to think about what i think would realistically play out and why, and write within those in universe consistencies.

Robb was easier I think, since most Robb x Reader x Jon fics that have a Jon endgame, tend to paint Robb in a different light in order to boost the Jon pairing.

I too was going to underplay it. When this series was first being outlined Robb was way less important. He was more an obstacle to get to the plot I wanted, but the more I outlined the more I realized how unfair it would be to do that. Robb is so important to GoT/asoiaf, people seem to forget that when Robb died, the entire country fell into what was essentially a post apocalyptic state of fear. He died and all hope was shattered for the realm, and I think it does him a disservice to not give his relationship that fair treatment. He is smart, and emotional and deeply caring of his people and cause and I wanted to rectify what I thought was an insulting love interest for him in the show. Give him a relationship with the reader, that was real.

Were Robb not to die, they'd still be together. Regardless if Jon was in the plot now or not, Robb and the reader were real and they loved each other with everything they. It's partially why I made the reader spend three years not talking about Jon. Beacuse she didn't want to risk letting him dominate her thoughts with her husband and its tragic beacuse its in chapter 11 'What Lies Beyond the Veil' when she finally has come to accept she can talk about the man she always loved normally with the man she grew to love and not feel guilt, and its the last time. I wrote that entire wedding reception from Robb's point of view beacuse I didn't want any mention of Jon to make it seem like the reader was thinking of him when she died, when no, their deaths were entirely about each other.

It's also why Jon never thought much about Robb in his pre 'What Lies Beyond the Veil' pov's beacuse I never wanted to give off the impression that his jealousy was out of malice. I never wanted it to be Jon feeling like it was him versus his brother. It was just the cards you three were dealt and as much as it burns him to be the one left in the cold he knows that no one actually chose to leave him behind, it was just how it worked out.

I just don't like fics where it's this kind of double pairing, but Robb doesn't feel like he was given a fair chance. A lot tends to feel like I'm just waiting for the Red Wedding to get to the Jon stuff that they want to do instead, when I was dreading getting to it in mine beacuse I didn't want the Robb saga to end yet. I sort of allude to this when Ned said in the first chapter,

"Just because losing Jon hurts, doesn't mean I don't think you aren't willing to love Robb."

And that's the essence of the double pairing, I hated the idea of one brother being seen as the more important relationship then the other, Robb died in chapter 11 by chapter 29 I'm still writing scenes about losing Robb, beacuse it felt disingenuous to paint one brother as the better pairing for the reader then the other. I didn't like the idea of a double pairing being about Jon versus Robb or vice versa.

Just the story of what happens, when your love finds itself equally.

#the orignal outline for chapter 1 had so much more jon but i changed a lot of that to be in flashbacks of later chapters #it needed to be about robb beacuse thats the life you were going to be in and i never wanted Robb to feel like the disposable love interest #and i ended up liking it better with a much bigger robb focus #i knew jon was the slow burn he was always going to get his day in court but robb was the one here and now and i refused to underplay that #i just hope you dont disagree with my characterization of Jon the futher we go #since post ressurection Jon isnt quite the same man as he was before #and I hope I am decent enough to convey my ideas in a realistic manner or that my ideas arent super out of character in general #long post

[rjsals]

"do you remember our first date?"

it's not really a question. he knows you do. there's a soft edge to his tone that indicates he's just trying to drag you down memory lane with him.

you let him.

"which one? the first one or the actual first one?"

seoho laughs, flopping onto his side so he can look at you properly, one hand propped under his cheek. you close your book, dropping it next to the bed before turning to meet his gaze.

there's a twinkle in his eye. "the first one."

"hard to forget," you muse, "i ignored the number one rule society drills into our heads as a kid—never go with strangers."

this makes seoho laugh again. "yeah, we're definitely lying to our kids about how we met."

you agree. there's no way you're telling a child that seoho, a complete stranger, slid into your booth while you're actual date was in the bathroom, stole one of your fries, proceeded to tell you you looked bored as fuck, and offered you a way out. not a chance in hell that you're telling them that he was right—that you were infinitely grateful for the opportunity to ditch, left your date with the bill, and ended up having the night of your life.

"we can tell them about the incredibly romantic half jog we did to escape unnoticed and how we somehow found a place that served the worst pizza this town has ever known, though."

"or about how you ruined my favourite jeans by not telling me i was about to sit on a bench with a "fresh paint" sign on it," you say, scooting a little closer under the covers to purposefully pinch his arm.

he reaches out, catching your hand. seoho's fingers sink into the empty space between yours with habitual ease, and he gently presses his lips to your knuckles. "i gave you something to remember me by, for free!" he quips, smiling, causing you to knock your hands into his chin in defiance.

"you couldn't have gotten me a corny keyring or something, like a normal human being?" you bite back, no malice in your words whatsoever.

"now where's the fun in that?"

you hook your ankle behind his thigh, pulling him in closer. "you're lucky i'm a very forgiving person. and a sucker for plushies."

kissing seoho is one of your favourite things to do. his lips are so soft, molding perfectly with yours, like they were made to kiss you and only you. his mouth is warm, igniting a spark in your chest that pushes fire through your veins with ease.

with one swift motion he's hovering over you, hand now resting on your thigh that's pressing into his hip. lips ghosting over yours, you can feel his smile before he speaks again, "i knew all those years losing money at the claw machines would pay off some day."

he dips down, catching another kiss.

#have some cheesy seoho from me #i haven't written in eons. if it sucks pretend i never posted this. #i would call this a drabble i think #seoho #🦊📝 #seoho fluff #no warnings besides one f-bomb

[codenamejudas]

@ourcwnside

Judas felt for all the world like he was the one person in London who had thoroughly enjoyed the rain. He’d gotten prodded at a few times for laying on the sidewalk in it but after spending so much time in a desert for work, it was wonderful. The rain, not the angry nudging. And the one thing he liked better than rain was snow. It reminded him of where he grew up because they had proper winters back home. The thin layer of cold, white fluff that accumulated over his car was more than enough to put a smile on his face and gave him hope that the cafe might have white hot chocolate for the season.

On his way down the block, he caught the unmistakable form of Crowley walking ahead of him and realized very quickly he couldn’t keep up with his pace to flag him down. Judas could have shouted him down to say hello like any normal person might. Instead his fingers tucked into a bit of snow on one of the shop sills and made a small, hasty snowball. In yet another of his many terrible decisions, Judas gave it a toss. Not hard, since there was no malice behind the act whatsoever.

The winteresque projectile hit Crowley just above the small of his back and the demon whipped around instantly, head on an alert swivel until he caught sight of Judas’ beaming face and erratic waving. Crowley’s head tilted, eyebrows raised. This was definitely a game he could play at. The demon snapped his fingers and a chunk of powdery snow from the roof above suddenly came loose and dumped itself over the tiny redhead.

“Oh my god!” Judas shrieked as half the snow found its way down the back of his shirt and he tugged frantically at the fabric to shake it loose.

Crowley feigned a sympathetic wince with a click of his tongue, “Bad luck, that,” before continuing on his way, smirking just a little.

#ourcwnside #ourcwnside; Crowley #Drabble

[golbrocklovely]

Gotta be honest. Although seth comment was disgusting and as a women myself i would never want to hear such a thing being said about me… I don’t specifically like how in such Situations, people act as if they never said anything rude/mean/disgusting being around friends.

I’m not in any way defending seth, because although i like him in snc videos (cause he is one. Of those who take investigations rather more serious), i would have to be sick in the head to say that it’s nothing… But as you said … man joke about such things in their friend group ( cause well… those are man… simple people) and ngl women do that too. Maybe not as often as men do , but you really never heard from your friends how “she wish he could just f her” , how he “had a small d” how he “was so bad that i fall asleep” , “it lasted 2 minutes” , “with such a small equipment, he won’t do much anyway”??… i am a women and believe me that I heard those things and women just as men are capable of commenting disgusting things about men, just as men do about women .

So in my very personal opinion, although the comment was disgusting and so out of place , people should stop acting as if women do not do simmilar things … this comment should never be on camera, buT i just don’t like how people who ain’t exposed to the spotlight suddenly act as if they innocent, as if they are God creatures who are in charge of judging other people, when reality is that , if their conversations with their close friends would be recorded by someone , they would be under fire just As those famous people that they hate on daily basis and yell how they should be “canceled” for that.

I am just sick of hypocrisy as a women myself. Sorry not sorry.

i didn't want to say all of this, but… yeah. i agree with you.

i think my issue is - yes, seth's comment was gross. no one is saying otherwise or trying to argue against that whatsoever. but if we're all being honest, how often are you around other men, other ppl, that say mean shit about women? and when that happens, do you call it out? bc i know for a fact i don't always do that. bc sometimes it's easier to just… side eye the person and move on. sometimes it's not worth fighting or arguing bc it can become a back and forth of "oh it's just a joke" and "no it's not bc it's harmful" and it's not worth it.

bc here's how i see it and i totally get that some WILL NOT see it this way and that's totally fine: men, to me, appear on a spectrum of least dangerous to most dangerous. the least dangerous are the ones that genuinely love women, that care for us, that do their best to call out shit when they see it. all the good stuff. the dangerous ones are the incels, the andrew tates of the world, right?

but then collectively, most men, fall in the middle. and they can go either way sometimes. these are the men worth talking to, educating - but only if that's something you want to do. as a woman, i shouldn't have to argue with others as to why our existence is important or valid or worth respecting. it's exhausting and shouldn't have to be the case. but reality is, these same middle men also live in the same society we live in. it's a patriarchal one that ALLOWS and ACCEPTS hate towards women. but bc it's so embetted in our society, most don't realize how deep it runs. so they say things nonchalantly or in a joking manner, not realizing there is a history behind those statements that stems back far enough to our oppression.

(and of course this whole argument doesn't even get into poc women and how they are treated, in just america alone, but i think you all get my gist)

i say all of this bc… i don't see seth as being the next andrew tate or some shit. while what he said was harmful and gross, it's clear there wasn't true malice behind it, at least to me. he's just another man saying another dumb thing about women. it's sad, but it's reality. same with colby "agreeing" and sam saying nothing in return. men don't call out other men most times. and to put them on this pedastal when most women don't do that to other men is a bit hypocritical.

the best we can do in situations like this is tell seth "hey what you said wasn't nice" and i think collectively most of us have done that. he's also now apologized to both kristin publicly and privately and to us (which personally i don't think he had to do in the first place but it's fine that he did it regardless). and now, we see if he actually learned anything. give him the grace to grow and be better. bc again, i don't think he's an awful man. he's just… a man.

#ask #personal #snc bs