#boredom is my least favourite emotion

[ocdeeznut]

Sat in a coffee shop waiting for my car to be serviced.

Now i love people watching, but sometimes…

they watch me back.

and nothing is as scary as the total rando you’ve been theorising about in your boredom looking you directly in the soul-windows through a thin sliver of NOT TINTED glass.

Reminder! They can see you!

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: My Consort Calls Me Shrimpy || Floyd Leech

You get isekaid into a novel where the perfect Empress got absolutely wrecked by the plot, and now you have to juggle a bland heroine, a traitorous consort, and a delightfully unhinged eel who’s oddly good at solving your problems.

Series Masterlist

You’re about three hours deep in line, squashed between a woman wearing an unsettling amount of dragon-themed jewelry and some dude intensely vaping in front of you. The line inches forward at the pace of continental drift, and you’re in no mood to be here.

You're here out of pure, misguided loyalty to your best friend, who’s practically shaking with excitement at the idea of meeting their favourite author—the world-renowned queen of girlboss fantasy.

In a valiant effort to distract yourself from your eternal boredom, you pull up her previous novels on your phone. Maybe, if you understood her work better, you’d understand why people would willingly spend this many hours standing on asphalt.

After skimming through some of her top titles, you can barely believe these are real book plots: Slaying the Patriarchy with My Stilettos? Lipstick and Blood Magic? Each one more ridiculous than the last, filled with protagonists who blast their enemies with a "feminine fury" and, honestly, you're just not buying it.

Why did I agree to this? you think, suppressing the urge to gnaw on your own hand out of boredom.

Suddenly, you spot a stray bird above—a pigeon, wobbling through the sky like it's had one too many lattes. You barely register the bird's existence until it lets out an alarming squawk and, in a tragic twist of fate, plummets from the heavens right towards your head.

In a perfect shot, it bonks you directly in the face, knocking you backward with an impressively dramatic flair. You spiral down, your vision blurring as you fall in slow motion, gasping.

In the last seconds of your consciousness, as chaos erupts around you, one solemn thought echoes through your mind: I hate pigeons.

And with that, you drift off into oblivion, serenaded by the panicked cries of your best friend and the distant wail of someone’s Lipstick and Blood Magic audiobook playing on full blast nearby.

You wake up, blink, and immediately realize that your bed is both way too luxurious and way too large. Rich, velvet curtains drape around you, shimmering with gold embroidery.

A chandelier overhead sparkles with enough jewels to fund at least three public libraries. The air smells like a mixture of incense, rose petals, and maybe faint hints of… burning tyranny?

Oh, dear God. You’ve been isekai’d.

Straight into that novel you were doom-scrolling through to survive the crushing boredom of line-waiting.

Your mind reels back to the summary you’d read. The heroine, a weepy maid with all the emotional range of wet toast. The consort, a charming traitor with “dreamy eyes” who betrays his own Empress for said toast. And then, of course, the villainess.

That poor, genius Empress who actually had talent and ambition, who could annihilate anyone with a flick of her wrist and yet was somehow destined to lose it all because of a love triangle involving a glorified housekeeper.

And now—you are that Empress. The Villainess Extraordinaire, Scourge of Kingdoms, War-Waging Prodigy, Mary Sue on Steroids… and now you're stuck in this tragic play of bad romance tropes.

You shoot upright in bed, taking it all in. Lavish room. Silk sheets. Jewels littered around like confetti. And then you notice a presence by your bedside. You whip your head to see… her. The heroine.

She's standing there, looking down at you with the wide-eyed wonder of someone who hasn’t yet discovered a single personality trait. Her face is soft, angelic, and you already know that beneath those doe eyes lies… absolutely nothing.

She's here to dress you, a task that apparently requires thirty minutes of excessive hair-braiding, enough layers to construct a mattress, and endless, mind-numbing conversation about the consort.

Oh, right. The consort. Your dear, disloyal boy toy who’ll soon be scheming against you. He’s probably off somewhere sharpening his cheekbones in a mirror, wondering if he can pull off ��soulful yet traitorous” in the same expression.

The heroine starts tugging on your hair, a bit too enthusiastically for your taste. "Your Majesty," she coos, “Your consort was asking for you yesterday. He misses your attention."

You mentally scream. I'm running an empire, Susan! Who cares about his feelings right now? You're barely awake, freshly isekai'd, and trying to mentally tally your enemies, not exactly in the mood for his fragile ego.

And, technically, aren’t you the one in need of support here? Not the consort, who apparently needs a throne, a palace, and a shoulder to cry on every two hours.

"Oh," you manage to reply, voice dripping with an irritation that you pray she interprets as imperial grace. "Tell him… I’m thinking about military reforms."

The heroine’s eyes flicker in confusion. "Military reforms?"

"Yes. Reforms. Vital to the stability of our empire." You wave a hand, and she clearly has no idea what you're talking about. This maid was not hired for her intellectual curiosity, that’s for sure.

Then comes the worst part: her doe eyes start misting over. Great. You forgot. Crying is, apparently, her most crucial skill set. She clutches a sleeve to her chest, looking at you as if you’ve announced the arrival of a natural disaster. "Your Majesty… but what about your consort?"

You take a deep breath. Focus. How did this woman end up so crucial to the plot? What was it about her that was supposed to outshine an entire empire? It’s as if she’s constructed entirely from damp tissues and vague romantic inclinations. And this is the girl who’s going to take you down?

But you’re already devising a plan. You’ll keep tabs on her. Outwardly, you’ll play the role of the intimidating yet graceful Empress, while inwardly making sure that neither she nor the consort gets a single chance to stab you in the back. And as for the consort himself…

Well, when he finally arrives for his “audience,” you’ll be sure to give him the warmest, most menacing smile in your arsenal. For now, you’ll have to endure the heroine’s dramatic sniffles and the hundred layers of fabric she’s convinced you need.

As she fiddles with a particularly elaborate golden sash, you look at her with an eyebrow raised. “Tell me,” you say, feigning curiosity. “What would you do if the palace were to… burn down?”

Her face goes blank for a second. Then, she frowns and wrinkles her nose as if this question is somehow unsolvable. “Um… cry?”

Of course. Absolutely riveting. You sigh and try to look satisfied, which is hard when you’re mentally questioning how this woman has a heartbeat, let alone plot armor thick enough to take you down.

By the time she finishes with your dress, you've already come up with about sixteen ways to save the empire and seventy-two reasons why this love triangle is absolutely ridiculous.

In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of yourself. You’re the picture of beauty and deadly grace, an unstoppable Empress who could wield the fate of kingdoms.

And they want to reduce you to a footnote in the saga of this girl’s whimpering romance?

Well, that’s not happening. You’ve read the novel; you know how this story ends. And now that you’re here, you’re rewriting that ridiculous fate.

You try to keep a dignified expression, but inside, you’re screaming.

The entire reason you’ve gathered the harem is to graciously cut them loose and rid yourself of the ongoing melodrama. Because if there are no consorts, there’s no backstabbing love triangle, no tearful betrayals, and no doomed political coups.

You can practically taste the freedom already—so you clear your throat and begin, putting on your most diplomatic voice:

"Esteemed consorts,” you say, hands clasped. “Thank you for your service and devotion. You are now free to leave and may claim land and titles if you wish to remain in the empire.”

You pause, waiting for cheers or at least some relieved sighs. Instead, dead silence. You glance around and spot the heroine sneaking glances at the traitor consort, eyes brimming with pure unadulterated… something.

She looks like she’s five seconds away from throwing herself across a fainting couch. The consort looks at her for a moment and then back at you, entirely unimpressed.

Maybe they’re just in shock, you think, trying to keep it together. Maybe they need a moment to process the incredible gift of freedom you’ve just given them.

But then, from the back of the room, someone clears their throat—Floyd Leech. He raises his hand, a gleeful glint in his eye that makes your stomach churn.

See, Floyd was not a character that should’ve belonged in this novel. The man was unhinged. Slightly terrifying, if you’re being honest. He treated warfare like a casual hobby and had a grin that said I could absolutely cause problems on purpose.

And the worst part? Floyd was actually one of the few who stuck around in the original plot. After the Empress dies on the battlefield, he takes her body back to his home country, out of sheer love.

He's also the only one who got to call the Empress Regnant herself "Shrimpy" and lived to tell the tale. You'd swoon over the romantic implications if you weren't that same Empress who had bigger problems right now.

You steel yourself. “Yes, Floyd?”

“Can I stay?” he says, looking entirely too happy. “These other guys are boring, but you’re kinda fun to watch.” He stares at you like you’re some sort of exotic animal in a zoo. “Besides,” he adds, throwing an arm over a very uncomfortable-looking consort, “who’s gonna protect you if I leave? These losers?”

God help you.

Before you can even answer, the traitor consort steps forward, expression so intense you can feel it from across the hall. He clears his throat dramatically. “My Empress,” he says, taking a deep, tragic breath. “My heart is bound to you, like—like the tides to the moon. Like—”

In the background, the heroine lets out an audible, swooning sigh. Oh, please, you think. You’ve seen better monologues in toothpaste commercials. The consort glances at the heroine, clearly confused, then goes back to gazing at you with what he probably thinks is soulful longing.

Meanwhile, Floyd is grinning at him, shark-like. “Nice speech, buddy,” he says, clapping the guy on the back hard enough that the consort nearly goes sprawling. “But I think she liked mine better.” He leans in to whisper, loudly, “Besides, I bet you don’t even know her favorite food.”

The consort’s face scrunches. “Do you?”

“Nope!” Floyd beams, looking at you as if expecting some kind of reward. “But I’m gonna figure it out.”

The consort looks like he wants to protest, but before he can, another one of the harem—Lord Something-or-Other—steps forward, visibly shaking with emotion. He kneels, clutching a hand to his heart as if he’s about to propose.

“My Empress,” he says, voice wobbling with way too much sincerity. “Without you, my life is a barren wasteland. I would rather endure the endless, scorching sands of—”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Floyd groans. “Do you guys hear yourselves?”

“Can you not mock me while I pour my heart out?” Lord Something-or-Other snaps back.

“Sure I can. I’m multi-talented,” Floyd replies with a grin that’s somehow both playful and threatening. He leans against the throne, looking completely at home while you fight the urge to dive out the nearest window.

Now everyone’s in a frenzy. Every last one of these men—your so-called “consorts”—are lining up to deliver heartfelt soliloquies, tragic metaphors, and similes so flowery they might as well be a bouquet. You can barely keep a straight face as the next one steps forward, proclaiming that he would “gladly suffer a thousand winters if only to see her smile.”

As if on cue, the heroine wipes a tear from her eye, sighing dreamily. The consort she’s apparently in love with looks at her again, this time with an expression somewhere between pity and terror. But she doesn’t seem to notice, too busy whispering to herself, “Oh, how romantic…”

And then Floyd leans down and whispers in your ear, voice gleeful. “Y’know, if you let ‘em keep going, they might just start fighting each other for you. Free entertainment. Whaddaya think?”

You feel a headache coming on. “Floyd, please, I’m begging you—”

“What?” he asks, grinning wider. “I thought this was fun. C’mon, Empress,” he drawls, giving the title an absurd little flourish. “Let me stay. I promise I won’t let any of these guys stage a rebellion.” He smirks at the traitor consort. “Unless you feel like rebelling, huh?”

The traitor consort scoffs, bristling. “Unlike some of us,” he says, glaring at Floyd, “my devotion is genuine.”

“And boring,” Floyd mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear.

You let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Fine, Floyd. You can stay,” you say, hoping that giving him what he wants will end this disaster. You’re immediately filled with regret as his grin widens.

“Awesome! And you know what? Since everyone’s so devoted, why don’t we all stay? Make it a real party.” Floyd tosses an arm around your shoulders, ignoring the death glares from half the room.

Now you’re stuck with fifteen poets, one unhinged eel, and a heroine who’s still making heart eyes at a man who clearly isn’t interested. And as you sit there, feeling your last shreds of sanity slip away, you think, This is going to be a very, very long reign.

You’re making your way through the moonlit palace corridors, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the… experience that spending the night with Floyd Leech is sure to be.

Mostly, you’ve chosen him because, unhinged or not, he’s at least the most loyal out of this whole ridiculous lineup. Plus, there’s a kind of chaotic charm about him, like a very large, very untrained puppy with fangs.

But before you can even make it to his side palace, you’re intercepted.

“My Empress…” It’s the traitor consort. You sigh as he blocks your path, looking like he’s about to burst into tears. He’s clutching his chest dramatically, as if he’s seconds from fainting, and his voice wobbles with pure tragedy.

“Do you not love me anymore?” he blubbers, eyes shining with tears. “Why do you never choose me? Have I done something wrong? Do you know how long it’s been since you’ve graced my chambers?” He’s practically sobbing at this point, clutching at your sleeves like some tragic hero in a soap opera.

You stand there, blinking. “Uh… dude. I… what? ”

He looks at you with the heartbreak of a thousand rom-coms. “I thought you cared about me. I thought I meant something to you…”

You’re trying to process what exactly is happening (and failing spectacularly) when you hear an all-too-familiar voice.

“Yoo-hoo~!” Floyd’s voice echoes down the hall as he appears at the other end, looking like he’s just won the lottery. He practically skips toward you, a grin stretched across his face, his shark-like teeth glinting in the moonlight.

“Shrimpy!” he calls out cheerfully, giving you an exaggerated wave. But his cheerful demeanor drops like a rock the moment he sees the traitor consort clinging to you, tears streaming down his face.

Floyd’s grin turns into a much darker smirk, and his eyes narrow dangerously. He tilts his head, sizing up the blubbering man like he’s something he might enjoy crunching on for a midnight snack.

“Oi,” Floyd says, stepping closer, voice dropping into a lower, much more menacing tone. “What’re you doin’, crybaby? Gettin’ all snotty in front of my Shrimpy? That doesn’t seem real respectful, y’know?”

The traitor consort pales instantly, his tear-streaked face going from tragic to terrified in half a second flat. “I—I was just…” he stammers, trying to find an escape route.

“You were just what?” Floyd grins, but there’s absolutely nothing friendly about it now. “You got somethin’ you wanna say to her? ‘Cause I could help you say it better, y’know.” He cracks his knuckles for emphasis, and you swear the traitor consort’s soul nearly leaves his body.

And you? You’re exhausted. Normally, you’re pretty sure the original Empress would step in, say something appropriately royal and dignified to diffuse the situation. But at this point? You’re too tired to deal with either of them, and honestly, watching Floyd scare this guy senseless is a little too satisfying. So you just sigh and cross your arms, waiting it out.

“Look, I— I didn’t mean anything by it,” the traitor consort mutters, eyes darting between Floyd’s unsettling grin and your unimpressed stare. “I’ll… I’ll just go…”

And before you know it, he’s stumbling off, practically tripping over his own feet in his rush to escape Floyd’s glare. You can still hear his sniffles echoing down the hall as he disappears.

Floyd watches him go, then turns back to you with an exaggerated pout. “He didn’t even say bye. Rude, huh?” Then, just as quickly, his mood switches back, and he gives you a toothy grin. “C’mon, Shrimpy! Let’s go. You’re finally here!”

And without another word, he loops an arm around you, practically dragging you the rest of the way to his palace. By the time you arrive, you’re half-expecting him to start a monologue or make a big romantic speech, but instead, he plops down on the massive, plush couch, pulling you down next to him with surprising gentleness.

“There we go! See? Ain’t this way better than dealin’ with crybabies?” He laughs, leaning back and throwing an arm over your shoulders.

You give him a look. “Do you actually scare all of them off on purpose?”

Floyd grins, showing all his teeth. “Only the boring ones.” He taps his temple like he’s sharing some brilliant secret. “Can’t have anyone else thinkin’ they’re more special than me, right?”

Honestly, you’re too tired to argue. So you just lean back, letting Floyd prattle on about his grand plans for “getting rid of the competition.” At least, you think to yourself, you’ve successfully survived another day of being Empress.

The banquet table stretches out in front of you, each seat filled by one of your fifteen consorts, who are locked in an elaborate battle of “who’s the cutest?” You watch, sipping your wine like it’s medicinal, as they coo, flirt, and — at least in one unfortunate case — attempt a juggling act.

A consort on your left even starts singing a heartfelt ballad he very obviously wrote himself. You silently make a note to ask Heroine if it’s possible to declare some sort of moratorium on public serenades.

Just when you think the evening can’t get any more surreal, the doors burst open. Floyd strides in, late as usual, with all the grace and subtlety of a pirate commandeering the dinner table.

Without breaking stride, he makes a beeline for the coveted King Consort chair, ignoring the man who’s been trying to occupy it and who now looks as if he’s about to faint.

Floyd’s “gentle” suggestion to move aside comes in the form of a rather forceful nudge, and the poor consort goes skidding two seats down, clutching his untouched plate of tiny hors d’oeuvres.

Floyd plops into the seat, throws his legs up on the table, and proceeds to grab a handful of grapes like he’s claiming territory.

Instantly, fifteen men start having what can only be described as a collective meltdown. One consort gapes at Floyd, cheeks puffing like an indignant chipmunk; another begins audibly hyperventilating. Somewhere on the far end of the table, a man has already shed a single, dramatic tear.

Your maid Heroine sidles up to you, wide-eyed. She whispers loudly, as if she’s sharing a forbidden secret, “Your Majesty! You’ve broken their hearts!”

You stare at her, bewildered. “How? By letting Floyd sit down?”

Heroine nods, lip quivering. “They think you’ve… chosen! That’s the King Consort’s seat!”

“What? ” You glance at Floyd, who’s now lying back, casually chomping on a drumstick he must have acquired from who-knows-where. He doesn’t seem perturbed in the least.

“Yes!” Heroine sniffles, pulling out a lacy handkerchief. “It’s the sacred chair of royal favoritism!” She dabs at her eyes, gazing at you with something akin to heartbreak. “And here I thought you were a romantic.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” You rub your temples, feeling a headache coming on. “I just wanted a quiet dinner!”

One of the consorts, evidently hearing this, begins to wail, “But why, Your Majesty? We loved you!” It’s clear he’s already going to be composing several tragic stanzas about this moment.

Then Floyd — who’s been watching this entire scene with the amused look of someone who’s just discovered he’s won the jackpot — clears his throat, aiming a rather shark-like grin at Heroine. “Hey, little miss servant girl,” he says, his voice sugary sweet with a terrifying edge. “Maybe stop making Shrimpy feel guilty, hmm? Unless you want to join ‘em in the Royal Seat Shuffle?”

Heroine squeaks, as if he’s just offered to turn her into a garden gnome, and stammers an apology, hands fluttering as she edges away.

In the silence that follows, you decide enough is enough. “Thank you all for coming,” you announce, giving your consorts a forced smile. “This has been… lovely. But we’re done for tonight.”

The consorts hesitate, as if they want to protest. But when Floyd gives them one of his very special grins — the kind that says he just might take a whole different seat next — they practically stampede out of the dining hall, leaving behind a trail of emotional debris: teardrops, wilted roses, and a half-eaten plate of pastries.

As the door closes, Floyd leans back with a smirk, throwing an arm casually over the back of his new favorite chair. “So, looks like Shrimpy’s all mine tonight.”

You chuckle, half-exasperated, half-relieved. “Well, seems you chased everyone else off.”

“Don’t be like that,” he purrs, clearly pleased. “You know, you’re different now. Last time, you’d have been practically begging those guys to come back.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Maybe I’m just too tired to care anymore.”

He leans in, gaze softening. “Nah. You’ve just gotten tougher. And it looks good on you. The new Shrimpy’s got a spine.”

You smile, almost despite yourself, as Floyd raises his glass, winking. “To the new Shrimpy: long may she rule.”

The annual Talent Showcase Extravaganza for the Empress’s Affections has begun, and your consorts are pouring every ounce of drama and flair they possess into their performances, each desperate to secure that exclusive week at the countryside villa with you.

Unfortunately, it seems that the traitor consort — Mr. ‘I-know-the-theme-because-Heroine-can’t-resist-my-cheekbones’ — is dominating the competition. He’s wowing the audience with a perfectly themed tapestry, and you can already hear the maid giggling over in his cheering section.

This calls for drastic action.

You glance over to where Floyd is occupying himself by tormenting a pair of unfortunate ministers with tales of his more “creative” fishing techniques. With a sigh, you snap your fingers. He looks over, feigning annoyance at being interrupted in what he surely sees as “Minister Horror Story Hour.”

“Shrimpy, what gives? This is the first fun I’ve had since I got here,” he says, hands on his hips.

You clear your throat. “Actually, Floyd, I need you to… win this competition.”

He raises an eyebrow, incredulous. “What, by doing some fancy painting or something? Boring. If you want something painted, Shrimpy, I’ll fish out an octopus to do it for me.”

You take a deep breath. “If you do this, I’ll grant you any wish you want. Plus… an extra reward.”

Floyd pauses, smirking as he steps closer, his voice dropping into an exaggerated whisper. “Any wish, huh? Dangerous promise, Shrimpy.”

You raise an eyebrow, undeterred. “You in or not?”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, he sighs. “Fine. But I’m not painting. I’ve got something much better planned. Just try not to faint in awe, yeah?”

When Floyd finally unveils his “masterpiece,” the room falls silent. Somehow, he’s cobbled together a mosaic made entirely out of shiny rocks he probably pilfered from the palace’s prize garden.

The piece is of you, looking bold and triumphant, wielding what can only be described as a “battle spoon” against some sea monster (you’re guessing it’s supposed to be a shark, but it might just be a rock that looked vaguely fish-like).

“Ta-da!” Floyd announces, throwing his arms out. “The Empress: Rock ‘n’ Roll Edition. I call it, ‘Shrimpy, Queen of the Waves.’”

Despite yourself, you’re mildly… no, very swoony. Somehow, it’s both absurd and… kind of amazing. Floyd’s grin is pure mischief as he winks at you. “Like it, Shrimpy? Don’t worry, I can make one for the garden too.”

But your moment is interrupted by a loud sniffle from across the room. The traitor consort, clearly irate at being outshone, is tearing up, looking at you with big, watery eyes as if you’re the villain in this scenario. Heroine looks one step away from bolting to his side, but he raises a hand, his voice trembling as he murmurs, “No, I only want the Empress to comfort me.”

You shoot a silent plea to the universe, practically chanting, “Please, mercy, mercy…”

Floyd, never one to ignore an opportunity, steps up, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Sorry, bud. Shrimpy’s already spoken for tonight. You’ll have to get in line. Oh, and try not to tear up over her rock portrait, yeah? Not all of us can handle the majesty.”

The crowd erupts in applause, one point to you and Floyd — and you’re pretty sure Heroine’s sulking in the corner, still staring longingly at the sobbing traitor consort, but that’s a future problem. For now, you’ve got a mildly unhinged art piece to hang up and a certain mischievous consort to thank.

It’s another late night in the study when you notice the Heroine, your ever-loyal (if not a little clueless) maid, lingering by the doorway, watching you with an odd expression. At first, you chalk it up to her usual eccentricities. But as the minutes tick by, she doesn’t move, just stands there with a faraway look in her eyes. Finally, you set down your work and gesture for her to come in.

“Hey,” you say gently, “what’s on your mind?”

She hesitates, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “It’s nothing, really…” Then, in a small voice, “It’s just… I never got to study like this.”

Your brow furrows, and as she opens up, the full picture starts to form. The Heroine, despite her noble blood, was barred by her father from studying—her dreams of an education crushed under his outdated beliefs.

She clung to the traitor consort, she confesses, because he seemed like an escape, even if a flimsy one. He was a nobleman with some level of authority, and for her, he felt like the only ticket to a different life.

Understanding sinks in. It’s not love she feels for him at all. It’s desperation, something almost like a distorted version of Stockholm syndrome.

She’s convinced herself he’s her only way out, though it’s clear as day that he doesn’t deserve her loyalty. The man’s barely got two brain cells, but he’s got freedom—and for her, he must have looked like her only way out.

The realization hits you hard, like finding out your favorite dessert is made with broccoli. No wonder she’s been swooning over that guy. She’s not “in love”—she’s just starved for any path out of her cage. Your heart softens, and you give her a gentle, if slightly exasperated, smile.

“Well, that won’t do,” you say firmly. “How about this? I’ll teach you myself. Then, when you’re ready, we’ll get you the education you deserve.”

Her face goes through a series of hilarious expressions, from shock to joy to the kind of wide-eyed, wobbly-lipped excitement normally reserved for puppies seeing their owner after a long day. And so, your lessons begin.

Over the next few weeks, you teach the Heroine to read, and she devours each lesson like a kid in a candy store. She’s throwing herself into her education with such energy, it’s like she’s forgotten the traitor consort entirely.

And you’re thrilled—partly for her growth and partly because it means your coup odds have just dropped by a solid 90%.

Soon, Heroine’s loyalty to you is ironclad, her former starry-eyed infatuation with the traitor consort completely extinguished. You’re so relieved you could dance, and, maybe more importantly, you realize that the kingdom’s other daughters deserve the same chance.

In a flash of imperial inspiration, you draft a new law requiring all daughters, noble or otherwise, to attend the academy. The state will foot the bill, so no one has an excuse to hold their daughters back.

Later that night, feeling unexpectedly sentimental, you return to your room to find Floyd sprawled on your bed, grinning like he’s just heard the world’s juiciest gossip.

“You look smug,” you say, arching an eyebrow.

“Nah, just… pleased,” he drawls, giving you that signature mischievous smirk. And before you know it, he pulls you into a surprisingly tight hug, his arms wrapping around you with unexpected warmth. “Look at my Shrimpy, changing the world one law at a time.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks despite yourself. “Oh, stop it,” you mutter, though you don’t pull away.

He chuckles, giving you an affectionate squeeze. “Nah. You’re doing great, Empress. I’m proud of you.”

You’re speechless. Floyd? Sentimental? But as he holds you, laughing at your stunned expression, you can’t help but feel a little…smitten.

You’re reviewing reports in the study, savoring the rare, blissful calm, when the double doors burst open like some villain from a badly written romance novel. There stands the traitor consort, dressed in what looks like…a suit made of loose, strategically placed peacock feathers, a sequined sash, and—oh, yes—face glitter.

He strikes a pose, does a dramatic hand flip, and announces, “Behold! My love for you is eternal, as boundless as the stars, and as bold as my outfit!”

You're thinking about ordering Floyd to chase him out with a chair, when you catch Heroine’s expression—somewhere between horror and volcanic rage.

With a fierce gleam in her eye, she steps in front of you, looking like she’s about to deliver an exorcism. “You…” she begins, her voice so cold even the peacock feathers on his shoulders look like they might molt in fear. “You miserable, egotistical, fashion-disaster-in-waiting!”

He’s stunned, blinking like a child caught sneaking candy. “W-what? Heroine, you used to help me with my plans!”

“Yeah, well, that was before I got a brain cell,” she snaps. “I actually know my worth now, and it’s definitely not tied to whatever fever-dream cape situation you’ve got going on.” She points to his glittering sash. “What, did you rob an arts-and-crafts store on the way here? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

He stammers, visibly shrinking, feathers quivering with fear. “Y-you were always there for me…”

“That was when I was too naive to realize you were the human equivalent of a trash fire!” She’s in full swing now, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, spitting out insults that would make the court jester blush. “Please, the Empress has standards, and you’re down there with questionable cabbage soup.”

He reels back, totally caught off-guard. By this point, you’re honestly not sure if you should applaud or slowly back away.

With a smirk, you lean forward and say, “Well, since you’re dressed for the occasion, why don’t you strut that ridiculous ensemble back to your own country?”

He opens his mouth, gapes like a fish, and finally closes it, completely defeated. Without another word, he shuffles out, feathers dragging behind him in a sad little pile.

The second he’s out of earshot, you sigh, look up, and thank the universe for finally sparing you from that headache. The Heroine just dusts her hands off, grinning like she’s just won the greatest battle of her life, and you’re suddenly very aware of just how terrifyingly competent she’s become.

Floyd has been hounding you about his reward for days now, showing up at all hours with the persistence of a cat at dinner time. You’re mid-sentence in a policy meeting, mid-sip at dinner, even mid-bath when you hear him shout from outside the door, “Hey, Shrimpy! Remember my prize? Don’t forget now!”

Finally, in a moment of resignation, you sigh and wave him in. “Fine, Floyd. What do you actually want?”

He grins, and there’s a gleam in his eyes that should probably have you worried. “Make me king consort.”

You open your mouth, ready to laugh and then say something like, “No chance,” but then…you pause. Because—why not? He’s loyal, he’s your particular brand of chaos, and honestly, the idea of using it as an excuse to disband the harem is almost too good.

You’d get to tell everyone you’d found the “love of your life” and keep your mornings free of peacock-feathered declarations of eternal devotion.

“Alright, Floyd,” you say, shrugging as if you just agreed to a dinner plan and not a royal title. “You’re king consort.”

For a solid five seconds, he’s frozen, blinking like he’s not sure if you just announced the best prank of the century or an actual royal decision.

Then, with a roar of laughter, he picks you up, actually tossing you in the air like a sack of grain. “SHRIMPY, I’M KING CONSORT! WOOOO!”

Ministers nearby practically leap out of their chairs in terror, and one drops his teacup with a spectacular crash.

“Oh, and by the way,” he says, setting you down but keeping a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t think I forgot—I still get that week alone with you in the countryside. Just you, me, and the great outdoors.”

You’d expected to feel dread, but instead…you’re kind of excited? Because it turns out, when there’s no glittered consort in sight, Floyd’s brand of mayhem might just be exactly what you needed.

You’re slumped on the throne, staring into the void as a minister drones on about the scandalous rise in scarf-wearing among the commoners.

The man is red-faced and foaming at the mouth as if he’s narrating the downfall of civilization itself instead of just… knitted accessories. With each drawn-out sentence, your urge to grab his own scarf and dramatically tie it around his face grows stronger.

“And, Your Majesty, don’t you agree that such… frivolousness undermines the dignity of the empire?” he sputters.

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, one mental toe dangling into the sweet abyss of existential crisis. How did your life get to this point? Did the previous Empress really deal with scarf politics? You contemplate just passing the crown to the nearest potted plant. Surely it couldn’t do worse.

Then, like a savior bathed in sunlight, Floyd appears. He slinks in casually, eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of glee and malice. He takes one look at Wedgeworth’s scarf-induced fervor and rolls his eyes. “Oh, I see the scarf issue is really eating away at the Empire,” Floyd deadpans, clearly unamused at the absurdity.

The minister stammers, blinking like he’s never been interrupted in his life. “Well, actually, I was explaining to Her Majesty—”

Floyd raises a hand. “I’ll take it from here, Lord Scarfington. Very urgent royal matters, wouldn’t want to keep the Empress from them, now would we, hmm?”

The ministers exchange horrified looks, but when Floyd locks eyes with them, his expression darkens into a gaze that could probably scare the teeth off a shark. Ministers shuffle out, muttering about “the sanctity of scarves” and how they “never liked those shellfish folk anyway.”

When you’re finally alone, you look at Floyd, and he gives you a grin. “Come on, Shrimpy, I’ve got a surprise.”

He leads you through a series of narrow, winding hallways you didn’t even know existed until you arrive at a small, hidden courtyard surrounded by high walls and shaded by some flowering trees.

In the middle of it is a picnic spread that looks… questionable. There’s food you don’t recognize: odd, glistening items that could pass as snacks in a very brave galaxy.

“I brought some delicacies from the Coral Sea,” Floyd announces, looking way too proud. “I even cooked some of this myself.”

You smile, hoping he means the less suspicious dishes, but as you take a bite of one of the “unique” items, you immediately realize your error. It’s a taste explosion, and not in a good way; you’re fairly certain you just ate something alive. Floyd’s already laughing, watching you try to hold back a gag.

“Oh, that’s rich, look at your face!” He claps his hands, doubled over with laughter.

But then you try the food he actually cooked, and it’s… it’s really good. Your eyes widen. “Floyd, you didn’t tell me you could cook!”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Guess you just have that effect on me, Shrimpy.”

As you eat, you feel the weight of scarf debates and mundane ministerial crises slip away. Floyd’s teasing you about your reaction to the Coral Sea snacks, you’re pretending to smack him, and somewhere between the laughter and the food, you realize you’re completely relaxed. You’re even… happy.

Then he casually picks up a pillow, eyes glinting with mischief. “Hey, Shrimpy,” he says slowly, “bet I can take you down.”

“Bring it, fish-boy,” you fire back, grabbing a pillow.

A feather flies. Then another. In no time, the two of you are engaged in a full-on pillow war, feathers floating through the air in chaotic puffs. You swing a pillow with all your might, narrowly missing Floyd, who dodges and counters with a playful shove, sending you sprawling onto the blanket, laughing so hard you’re almost crying.

In the flurry of feathers and laughter, you realize just how much you care about him. And as if reading your mind, Floyd suddenly stops, pinning you down, his face hovering just inches above yours. His usual playful grin fades into something softer, more serious, and you find yourself staring up at him, completely captivated.

You kiss him, right there, surrounded by scattered feathers and half-eaten snacks. “I think I’m in love with you, Floyd,” you whisper.

He grins, looking almost smug. “Knew you’d come around eventually, Shrimpy. You’re a smart one.”

You roll your eyes, laughing, and pull him into another kiss, feeling lighter than you have in ages. Whatever royal nonsense tomorrow brings, you know you’ve got him—and for now, that’s more than enough.

Vacation plans with Floyd start out so simple in theory, but the minute he said, “Countryside? Nah, Shrimpy, we’re going under the sea,” you just nodded because, hey, you did promise a reward. Plus, how bad could it be?

Bad, it turns out, is relative. Upon arrival, Jade, Floyd’s brother, gives you a grin that says welcome, poor soul. “So, my brother’s finally gone and gotten himself an Empress. How unexpected,” he says with a glint in his eye that suggests he’s got a bet running on how long you’ll last.

But you’ve barely survived Jade’s interrogation when Azul, Coral Sea’s resident business octopus, swims up with an entire briefcase of contracts and a grin that spells danger.

“Welcome, Your Majesty! I thought we might discuss a mutually beneficial agreement,” he says smoothly, his tone so charming you almost miss that the contract slides in a 50-year lease on your kingdom’s fishing industry.

“So that’s how it is here,” you think, snapping back to business mode. You haggle until both sides are happy, but the second you reach across to shake Azul’s hand, Floyd swoops in, sighing dramatically. He grabs your hand, practically prying it out of Azul’s. “Alright, Shrimpy, enough time with the fish dealer. You’re mine this week.”

Before you can blink, he’s thrown you over his shoulder like you’re a stray potato sack, striding away from an open-mouthed Azul and an utterly delighted Jade who looks like he's a minute away from bursting out popcorn.

By the time he hauls you to your guest room and plops you on the bed, his usual grin has given way to an expression you’ve only seen on annoyed cats. He’s holding your hand in a grip that could rival steel, not letting go even as he sulks like a kid who just lost his favorite toy.

“Floyd,” you say slowly, “is something wrong?”

He looks away, puffing out his cheeks, refusing to answer. It's downright adorable in an overgrown, slightly unhinged eel sort of way. You squint at him, reaching over to grab his face, smushing his cheeks together until he finally makes eye contact. “Hey, I can’t read your mind, Floyd. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He mutters something too low to hear, and you lean closer, arching a brow. “What was that?”

“You’re my Shrimpy,” he grumbles louder, still not meeting your eyes. “And the handshake with that fish scammer went on too long.”

It takes every ounce of self-control not to burst into laughter. “So that’s it, huh?” A laugh slips out despite your efforts, and his pout deepens, though his grip on your hand stays as firm as ever. “You silly eel,” you chuckle, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “As if anyone could match me like you do?”

That does it. His expression softens, the pout melting into that slightly unhinged, overly excited Floyd smile you know too well. “See, Shrimpy, that’s why you’re the only one for me!” he practically shouts before pulling you into a spin that has you clinging to him for dear life.

He kisses you again, and you’re so breathless you half-expect a storm outside to rise to match.

But it doesn’t matter—he’s too busy swearing up and down that he’s not letting anyone else get a “single fin” on you. And somehow, as you laugh together, it feels like you really are on a vacation you never knew you needed.

The ceremony for crowning Floyd as your King Consort goes all-out, much to your delight—and, judging by the expressions around the room, their absolute horror. The whole throne room is so packed with flowers and banners it might as well be a festival.

You’ve made sure that this is a spectacle the diplomats and ministers will never forget. After all, the more smitten you look with Floyd, the less they’ll try to “reason” you out of it. And if they have any opinions about your choice, well, they can keep it to themselves—or they can talk to Floyd.

As you lean in to place the crown on Floyd’s head, he’s giving you a smirk so bright you swear it’s practically a stage light. The second the crown touches his head, he dips you into a kiss that is equal parts “fairytale ending” and “scandalized gasp from the old guard.” The ministers are barely holding in a collective gasp. Someone clutches their chest like they might need medical attention.

Over on the sidelines, you can see Jade and Azul clapping way too enthusiastically for the room’s mood. Meanwhile, everyone else looks like they’re watching you deface a holy artifact. You pull back with a satisfied smile, fully aware of the whispers swirling through the room.

Now, to seal this newfound reign in your own… unique way.

You turn to the front rows where your now-ex-harem stands, looking various shades of awkward and confused. These “prizes” will be going back to their respective nations, and it’s about time. “Ambassadors,” you announce, your tone absolutely oozing sincerity, “I believe you’ll be taking back your… prizes. Enjoy.”

The diplomats exchange looks, clearly unsure if they should feel insulted or relieved. You give them a regal wave and watch as they shuffle out with the ex-consorts in tow, one of whom lets out a dramatic sigh loud enough to reach the rafters.

Just as the room finally starts calming down, you glance over at the row of your ministers—many of whom look like they’d rather have run off with the consorts.

These are the ancient relics of nepotism who have only ever accomplished growing their own egos and possibly a few money-siphoning schemes. You decide now’s the time to deal with them, too.

Smiling so politely it almost looks sweet, you say, “Ministers, thank you for your service. But I’m sure you’ll understand when I say…” You pause, voice dropping to an icy sweetness, “You’re dismissed. Please kindly fuck right off.”

Several of the men freeze, as if unsure they heard you correctly. One or two start spluttering, “But—Your Majesty—this is—”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Floyd cuts in, grinning from ear to ear, clearly enjoying this far too much. “You’re free to go! You wouldn’t want to disappoint the Empress, would ya?”

It takes a second, but the room clears of protesting ministers soon enough. Then you turn to the waiting group of young scholars, women who fought their way up to the top on pure merit, many of them owing their presence here to your recently passed education reforms. “Welcome,” you say with a genuine smile. "Your interviews will be conducted tomorrow"

Their reactions are priceless. Several tear up on the spot, whispering thank-yous so heartfelt you nearly tear up yourself. One of them murmurs, “This is a dream come true. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

You feel a swell of pride. This is what you’ve wanted to see—a competent court, fresh talent, and the chance to make a real difference. Just as you’re soaking in the satisfaction of this triumph, Floyd leans over, clearly up to something.

“You’re done now, yeah?” he asks with a conspiratorial grin.

“Uh, yes?” You've barely said the words, only for him to suddenly scoop you up and throw you over his shoulder, entirely ignoring the royal dignity of it all. The young scholars stare, completely unsure of whether to salute or run.

“Floyd!” you half-laugh, half-scold. “You could at least let me walk out on my own!”

“Nah,” he says, casually strolling down the hall with you like you’re a sack of potatoes. “You’re mine now, Shrimpy. And besides, it’s tradition for the King Consort to carry his Empress, isn’t it?”

“I’m pretty sure it isn’t,” you mutter, but you wave cheerfully at everyone as you’re carried off.

As he strides out of the throne room, ignoring the horrified gasps and protests behind you both, Floyd grins. “Any more old men to fire? ‘Cause I’m having a great time.”

You shake your head, smiling. After all, you’re the Empress—who’s going to stop you now?

Your empire has transformed. The old guard, once weighed down by nothing but scarves and scandals, has finally given way to a bright-eyed group of scholars and ministers, most of whom—much to the old ministers' horror—are brilliant young women now leading the realm.

Among them is your ex-maid, the heroine herself, newly appointed as Minister of Diplomatic Affairs and already so intimidatingly competent that foreign diplomats quake just a bit when she enters the room.

And the grandest twist of all: you declare that your successor will not be by blood but by merit. The heir to the throne will be the sharpest, most capable mind in the empire, regardless of their birth.

You’re already giddy as you imagine the ambitious parents prepping their offspring for the grueling tests you’re planning—challenges you’ll design alongside your newly assembled council.

After hours of being regal and respectable, you finally get back to your chambers, ready for a night of blissfully ignoring politics. Floyd, your beloved eel, is already sprawled on the couch like he’s conquered half the known world, arms open and ready to receive you. You practically collapse into his embrace, sighing as you burrow against him.

“So, Shrimpy,” he drawls, smirking. “Fix the whole empire yet?”

“Almost,” you laugh. “At least I’ve retired the Scarf Parliament. That’s enough for today.”

You snuggle closer, closing your eyes, and for a second, you think back to the ridiculous, drama-filled story that threw you into this life. Maybe the original author had a point, or maybe she just really liked throwing you curveballs.

Either way, cuddled up with the love of your life while your empire flourishes, you can’t help but think, yeah, she knew exactly what she was doing.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[dameronology]

be still (matt murdock)

summary: matt is the only one who he'll let get close when he has a bad day

warnings: just language ig

sorry for dropping off the face of the earth for months and not writing a single thing. this might be my comback, or all you will get for another year. we'll see! love u all.

To the rest of the world, Matt Murdock was hard to read.

To you, he was like your favourite book. One you’d read a thousand times; with a plot line you knew like the back of your hand. Every bump on his skin; every raised scar and jagged red wound from his night shifts; you knew the story behind them all. The long pink line on his back was fall out from a fight with the Yakuza two years back. The deep, sunken jag on his right hand was from an unfortunate incident when he was chopping up some vegetables two years ago. I might have super senses, he’d joked, but there are some things you just need sight for.

Matt’s emotions were no different. There were days when even Foggy wasn’t sure what he was thinking – whether his stony face was from boredom or anger, or whether his smile was happiness or just a slightly misshapen grimace. With a life as complicated as his, it wasn’t surprising that Matt came with the feeling to match. In the early days of your relationship, it was something you’d struggled with, but now you knew his signals and his tells. You could see a bad mood coming from a mile off, almost like a thunderstorm on a summer day. Equally, you knew his good moods from the way he would greet you brightly in the morning, or his anxious ones from the way he held your hand. They weren’t always easy to forecast but at least it made things a little more predictable.

A cold Tuesday morning in the fall was no different. September had just come, bringing with it shorter days and colder nights. The tension in your bedroom was high from the moment you woke up – actually, it had been since the small hours of the morning. Matt had come crashing in without a word, gear ditched to the floor. Any questions of his wellbeing or how his night had been ignored as he passed out beside you, back turned the other way. His snores had been the first thing you’d heard from him that night – not a single word, not even a grunt. You could feel an invisible line down the middle of the bed. It wasn’t one you wanted to cross.

You woke up naturally with the daylight- perks of it being a Sunday, you figured (though not a silver lining. Today didn’t feel like a day to be looking for those). Matt was still, tired body heaving with deep breaths as he slept. It was hard to shake the feeling of anxiety that had snuck its way into your stomach; butterflies now felt like wasps and any previous inclination you’d had to reach out to him had died with the hope of him waking up before you and apologising.

“Dickhead,” you muttered.

(You knew he would hear you).

Still, you knew something was up. Even if he’d projected it onto you by swatting your hands away last night and completely blanking you, something was up. It took a moment of building up the courage in your head, but as Matt let out a yawn and rolled over, you quickly moved to snuggle into his side. His hands were on his front, so you made a second attempt to tangle your fingers with his. He didn’t comply, but he didn’t resist either. You stayed like that for a moment, until his dark eyes shot open, and he let out a heavy sigh.

You could have pretended to still be asleep, purely just to avoid dealing with the situation, but who were you fooling? The man was like a human sonar. He would know immediately from your breathing that you were awake. Plus, your not-so-quiet insult just moments earlier didn’t exactly align with something you could brush off as sleep talk.

Matt sat up, blinking for a moment. Any other morning, he would have pulled you into him; pressed a kiss to your forehead and held you tight. Not today, though. He snatched his hand away from yours and shrugged you off, pattering across the wooden floor out the bedroom and to the bathroom. The door slammed and a second later, you heard the spattering of the shower.

You stayed there for a second, heart thumping in your chest and heard swirling with thoughts. Why was he being shitty? Was it your fault? No, you told yourself. It wasn’t fair on you to jump to those conclusions. If he had a problem, it was on him to tell you. You’d made it clear from day one that you hated guessing games. Guess Who was one thing but Guess Why I’m Angry At You had no winners.

The water eventually stopped. Rather than coming back through to the bedroom as he normally would, there was silence. You frowned for a moment – what the fuck was he doing? Was he actually that intent on avoiding you?

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, swinging your legs out of bed and heading out of the bedroom. Matt was the first thing you saw in the living room, skin still covered in droplets of water from the sofa, butt fuck naked. He had a file open in front of him, callous fingers following over the braille as he read it, barely pausing to acknowledge your presence. You could have made a comment about him getting your thousand-dollar sofa wet, even a joke, but that didn’t feel like the right play.

“Hey,” you said.

No answer.

“I have to ask,” you continued, crossing the room and taking a seat beside him. Not close enough for your legs to be touching, but close enough that he knew you were there. “Have I done something?”

“No,” he murmured. “I’m just tired.”

His voice was barely above a whisper – barely even there. Something was seriously wrong.

“Okay,” you hummed.

You stayed like that for a moment – even though you could predict Matt’s mood, you couldn’t always predict what he wanted. If you touched him, would he flinch, or would the front come down? It was like hugging a nuclear bomb, even if the idea of his temper coming out on you was unfathomable.

“Do you want a coffee?” you gently asked.

Another pause.

“Yeah. I could do with a coffee.”

Trying to keep your nerves feigned, you crossed the room to the kitchen, hands working automatically. Kettle filled, turned on, two mugs out. One sugar and a tiny bit of milk for Matt, and then two sugars and no milk for you. He liked the blue mug, because it was easier to hold, and you preferred the purple one because it was the same shade of violet as the dress Taylor wore on the front of Speak Now. You’d brought it in a clearance sale when you and Matt just started seeing each other, and it was one of the first things you actually kept at his apartment.

You returned to the sofa, placing the coffee on the table in front of you. There was still no word from Matthew – not even a hm in place of a thank you.

“You’re worrying me,” you murmured.

Blanked.

Rolling your eyes – and finally getting sick of his head – you whacked the file out his hands and collapsed into his side. He didn’t immediately respond, but a moment later, his hand came down to touch your thigh. He gave your leg a squeeze, and you felt a minute bit of tension rise from the room. Not all of it, but the physical touch was enough to know that things would be okay.

You stayed like that for a moment, before wrapping your arms around him completely. You fell back into the sofa, letting Matt collapse into your chest. His hair was still wet from the shower, skin sticking to yours from where he was still drying, but you didn’t give a shit. You just wanted to hold him, hands roaming over his tense back, stopping on his shoulder blades and using your grip to pull him closer.

“Let’s go back to bed,” you said. “Just for a little while.”

He didn’t resist as you took his hand, tangling your fingers together and leading him back to the bedroom. Matt was hot on your heels, like a lost puppy now, and there was barely a second between you falling back first onto the bed and him following you. His entire body was on yours, legs tangling into a web and arms digging underneath your torso to hug you, head buried in your shoulder. He was limp – almost completely void of emotion.

Whatever barrier Matt had been putting up was gone, because as soon as you tangled a hand in his hair you could feel his hot tears on your skin. He’d only cried in front of you once before and that had been when you’d nearly died after a minor mishap (though he’d argue it was probably more). That meant that whatever had happened on patrol last night must have fucked him up a little – you didn’t want to ask, but you didn’t want to him to think he couldn’t talk about it.

“I’m here if you need,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “If you just wanna lay here or you just wanna talk, I’m right here.”

“Thank you,” his voice was still quiet. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“Don’t apologise,” you shook your head. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied.

You tightened your grip on him and he tried to shuffle closer, even though it wasn’t physically possible. You were completely skin to skin and chest to chest, his forehead flush with your collarbone. It was raining outside now, the sound of water hitting the window filling the room with where tension used to be. That was gone now – maybe it hadn’t been there at all, just a figment of your anxiety.

You felt Matt’s eyelashes brush against your skin as he closed your eyes. Sleep was good. It was probably what you both needed, and with his warm, heavy body on yours, it was also hard to resist.

(All you could do was hope that you didn’t need to pee any time soon).

[aghostiewitdahoodie]

⟣ Synopsis: Troubling his thoughts like a plague, Simon decides to test the water- or is it your delusion?

⟣ Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader x John “Soap” MacTavish

⟣ Warnings: Suggestive scene

⟣ This is my work, my writing. Do not steal or repost elsewhere.

When the mysterious friend of Johnny was introduced to your life, it has gotten interesting to say the least. Appearing in places where you usually go… “A mere coincidence.” You thought at first, until it became more of a surprise to not come across him.

Simon is his name. When he held your hand during meeting, it is as if you are made of glass, a ravishing porcelain opposed to his roughness and aggressive nature.

Except it did not end there, no. Johnny loves to bring you during celebrations, “You are part of the Task Force now, bonnie.” He uttered with pride and affection. It is expected of him to appear in those moments and it never made you feel unsettled until the very first of the many strange behaviour he manifested towards you.

It was a night after a successful operation when their captain decided to carouse at a nearby bar, inviting everyone at the base. Of course and as usual, your lover decided to pull you along. How unfortunate that your favourite dress shrunk during laundry day, nonetheless you chose to wear it over the dozen of gifts from Johnny, even if it means tugging it downwards repeatedly throughout the evening. He was the first to notice and you care about his concern yet he shut your worry down in an instant. “Do not worry, I can fight.” You could not be any more attracted to him.

You were just on time when you arrived at the bar, greeting the members of 141 with a pleasant and polite smile. Not one to drink, you stayed by Johnny’s side mostly however he informed you that you are free to roam around and dance, sensing your boredom while listening to tales about missions and whatnot.

Attentive to others’ fortuitous motions, you slowly made your way to the dance floor, the hands of yours clasping the hem of your dress. Relief and euphoria rush through you when you reached the centre, just below the disco ball. The music bewitching your body, making you sway in an almost illicit and risqué manner.

A sudden brush against your soft skin made you cease dancing, a gasp departed the lips of yours, surprised by the contact. You turned and find Simon standing in front of you, the infamous mask of his veiling emotions and identity. “Johnny allowed you to wear this?” The deep voice of his vibrated your organ of hearing, it never fails to. “Lieutenant.” You greeted him, your orbs examining your surrounding to search for who is responsible. Simon is the closest yet you fear of accusing him. “May I?” He sauntered towards you, a hand to grasp your dress, an excuse to touch your skin so he could pull your cover downwards. “Don’t want anyone looking at you seductively, love.” Tongue-tied you were, sensing how he consciously slowed his movements. “T-thank you, Lt.”

You attempted to brush it off yet you could not. Goosebumps arose on your skin as you ponder about the occurrence. Did Simon caress you? Perhaps not. Perhaps it was unintentionally. Perhaps you interpreted his polite doing wrongfully. He is your lover’s friend after all.

[magixfairyix]

Winx Club Seasons & Movies Rating

This is just due to boredom, but... hehe I am biased as I grew up with the later seasons so. Going to rate them from worst to best, at least in the way I feel about them.

Even though its weird to rank the movies with the seasons, but trust me.

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Season 8: I acually kind of enjoyed season 8 not gonna lie. The first half was misery but it got better when the Trix came in. Though there were only three braincells in that season.

Darcy got 1, Icy and Stormy each got half a brain cell, the Winx each got a sixth of a braincell, and the Specialists didn't get shit.

I feel like part of the reason I acually liked this season is because of the clip of Icy's backstory/her trying to save Sapphire with the Prime Star on youtube a long ass time before the season came out.

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Season 7: I might just need to watch this season again, but I did enjoy it a decent bit. While in my opinion season 8 is misery in the first half and genually interesting in the second half, season 7 is just a constant "well... okay"

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Season 5: I feel like season 5 would land below season 7 if I wasn't so emotionally attached to the first 7 episodes. I first watched them on a DVD that had them and both one of the first two movies (probably Magical Adventure) and I watched them so much.

This season was my first introduction to the Trix (also homosexuality) and this is also why I don't mind their Nick voices. Even though the Nick dub is... the Nick dub, I still like it for nostalgia's sake.

The Lilo episode and the Rainbow Horse something something episode were my favourite as a child and honestly it still is.

The pillar quest episodes of season 5 make me want to delete that part of the season, and how the episodes sometimes drag on to two episodes when it could've just been as one (ie, the gem episodes).

Musa's episodes were amazing.

Tritanus x Icy was... eh I don't have strong feelings about that. Love Darcy and Stormy getting disgusted by it though.

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Mystery of the Abyss: This is nostalgia. I don't know what else to tell you... wait.

I have no idea when I first watched this season. I know I was a child but I have no idea how I got my hands on it. Wait. Acually might've been on TV nm.

Then this movie might've been my first introduction to the Trix. Either that or season 5. That's why my standards are low as hell when it comes to the later seasons. Either this or season 5. Most likely near the same time.

Nostalgia. I liked the scene of the Trix kidnapping Sky and almost killing Bloom because of how 'dark' it was. Also liked the idea of Oblivion. OOO and the opening scene where the Winx talk to the students of Alfea.

But the dancing scene at the end.... I want to get that out of my head.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Season 3: This is going to get me cancelled that I put season 3 lower than season 6 lol. But literally, I have no emotional attachment to season 3 whatsoever. I only found out it existed after I watched season 7 when it was just beginning to come out.

I only found out about it when I saw a thumbnail of an episode with Valtor on it and I was like... who the hell as that? I literally thought there was nothing between season 2 and the movies (don't ask why I didn't question the Winx having Enchantix I don't know).

And when I first watched the season as someone who was emotionally attached to a certain trio of witches, I saw Valtor and my little child brain hated him. I created a list of seasons I disliked season 3 and it turned into a "why I hate Valtor list" at the time. I was immune to his charm.

I'm currently watching the 4kids dub for season 3 and ugh I wish I either first watched it now when I could actually see Valtor as a good villain, or when I was still a smol child.

It's an amazing season and I'm trying so hard to form an emotional attachment to it. 4kids dub give me mercy for my sins.

Tecna's sacrifice episodes I love though.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Season 6: This was the first full season I watched (either this or seasons 1 & 2 I'm not fully sure which, but probably this one before). I immediately loved the mythology vibes as well as Selena's design, and the Dark Witch forms as well as Bloomix.

As the first season I had more of the first seven episodes with, I have such a nostalgic attachment to this season (more so seasons 5 and 4, but anyways). I can't bring myself to hate it.

(Literally mentally memorized the intro at the time to the point where I could play it in my head and visualize it to a T)

This was also the season I watched when I actually tried for my writing. I wrote little fanfictions in my notebooks for all the seasons up until this one, and I only started using dialogue and dialogue tags halfway through writing season 5 because I was afraid of making the characters sounds cringe.

I wrote all of season 6. No skipping episodes I didn't like, which is what I did for the earlier seasons I wrote. With dialogue. Angst. Actual character development.

Up until the Musa-getting-her-voice-stolen episodes as that was when I got more into publishing my writing and soft of left the others behind except for writing oneshots/short fanfictions in my notebooks.

You can never make me hate this season XD. I understand why it's bad and why people hate it, but my heart belongs to this season.

(Thinking of re-writing it, but honestly, that's not likely. Maybe a few one-shots here and there though)

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Secret of the Lost Kingdom: This was the first movie I watched and it came along with the first few eps of season 4 on DVD. I still vividly remember watching it (once again, the Nick dub) and the beginning scene where the Winx are in robes and they transform into Enchantix still had my heart!

I really need to watch this again because it is so good. I had no idea that Domino was even dead though (watched this before season 1 and 2 sooo) so I just vibed with what was going on.

Mandragora scared me to death.

Loved the Ancestral witches though. Them and the Trix are some of the villains closest to my heart ngl.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Magical Adventure: This movie and Secret of the Lost Kingdom are close together, but this one I enjoy watching more currently. I remember as a child watching the Pixies get their village invaded by the Trix, and how Icy genually looked afraid of Belladonna.

I got robbed though.

Cause I watched the Nick dub which removed several scenes from whatever the original dub was (Dubbing Brothers or something I dunno). I didn't watch the Alfea celebration scene or the Winx chilling in Gardenia Park scene until two years ago and damn I felt betrayed.

I need to watch all the movies again I swear. Even Mystery of the Abyss.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Season 4: This was the second season I had the first seven episodes of along with a movie (season 4 came along with the Secret of the Lost Kingdom movie I think).

But even before then I saw the Amazon episodes on TV and that was my very first introduction to Winx Club. I remember watching the one where the specialists got captured and all. The dub I watched was the Nick dub for this season and not the Rai, so I favour the Nick dub of this season but then again I've only watched the Rai dub of it once.

AHHH I love this season.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Season 1: This season as well as season 2 was the first full seasons I watched after I watched season 6 all the way through. I was told that OH there are seasons that show the beginning of Winx so I watched them.

(I watched the Rai dub for this one initially and only found out about the Nick specials about a year ago. I actually vibe with them ngl cause once again, Nick voices + nostalgia)

(I've watched the 4kids dub for this season only a few months ago and honestly, it's a vibe. Gotta love it. Definitely gonna do it again)

I've watched this season so many times and I still love it. The angst! The dialogue! (Even though understandably it is a bit awkward and cringy at times but so sue me).

Not as much emotional attachment as season 6, 5, and 4 but I still really love it and it is so good. I vaguely remember when watching this season for the first time was that, the Trix are scary as hell, and two, that Lucy was gorgeous even without the disguise and I was so confused about the Miss Magix episode at the time.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Season 2:

I still vividly remember watching the first episode with Aisha trying to break into Darkar's fortress, but that's all I remember from watching this season.

The soundtrack is ingrained into my brain (ie, the song playing in the background while Musa is standing over her mom's grave) and the concert episodes I think (key word think) were my favourites and they still are. They're my comfort episodes and ahhh love them.

I found Darkar more tolerable than Valtor ngl, but as a child I still didn't like him too much since, again, my favourite villains were the Trix.

There's so many good things about this season and it's still my favourite one to watch.

(Also the Cloud Tower episodes are amazing).

[bil-daddy]

Mr bildad the shuhite, I need some advice. What do I do when that familiar overwhelming sadness washes over me? Ive been feeling horribly depressed lately, even though I have no real reason to be. I do talk to my friends abt this, but I dont want to talk abt my mental state ONLY and drive them away, so I refrain from talking abt it too much even tho it feels like it will drown me, because I am too afraid of seeming clingy.

Its been getting worse lately, and all I can do is distract myself from it. Ive been excessively sleeping just to not.. feel. I dont know what to do, nor do I know how to not feel this way

I made myself a nice breakfast, and it felt good. And then the feeling came back, like a drip drip drip from the leaking faucet of my mental health I cant control. I am scared. I am so scared

Sorry if this ask wasnt what u were expecting, or if u cant help me either, thats completely fine. I just needed to share somehow how scared I am. Of myself, what I feel I dont know

I dont know. I just dont know

Best wishes,

Anon❤️

*shows up one month late carrying six shots of espresso in a big cup to answer this ask*

It's taken me a while to respond to this because 1) I've been going through a bit of the same thing myself and 2) I haven't figured out a solution yet.

I do have some ideas, though.

You were on the right track, making yourself a nice breakfast. Little things like that make a bigger difference than you think. In fact, I think we should all try to live in the little moments as much as we can. Sometimes, when you're feeling depressed but can't point at a reason in your own life, it's because you're reacting to large scale problems that, while very real, are out of your control--and you know this, and so you feel depressed and scared because there's nothing you can do.

But there is something you can do.

Do at least one thing nice for yourself everyday as part, even if it's something really small. Especially something really small. Listen to your favourite song. Eat a piece of chocolate, just because. Play with a pet, if you have one.

And, if you're up to it, do at least one nice thing for someone else, too. Help your parents with the chores. Call a grandparent and brighten their day. Send a kind message to a friend.

Because you should keep on talking to your friends. The right friends will be honoured you've opened up to them. Listen to your friends, too. They might be going through things to, and being a comfort to them might in turn make you feel better, as well. Being part of a community, even if it's just a small group of friends--or even a group of two--can really help. Having you a sense of purpose, belonging, and importance is part of what makes people people.

Sleeping a lot isn't necessarily bad. Ive done that myself (for totally normal amounts of time, definitly not entire century or anything) Sometimes, your body and your mind just needs the rest. But if you feel like you're sleeping too much, then you probably need something exciting to be awake for.

It might be time to try out a new hobby, start a new TV show or book, take a class, or set a new goal that you can work towards a little bit every day. The mind craves new experiences and challenges. If everything's been the same for a while, depression can set in simply due to boredom.

However, there could just as easily be other causes, which are worth looking into with a therapist and a psychiatrist, if you want to try the medical route--and it is worth a try with persistent depression.

It sounds to me like you also have some anxiety about having depression, since it scares you (and rightfully so, it is scary) that you can feel it coming on and that you can't control it. For that, in addition to what I've already mentioned above, I'd suggest thinking about it differently. Instead of leaking faucet you're desperately trying to shut off, let yourself feel whatever emotions you're feeling*

(*safely and within reason--don't harm yourself or others)

Cry, scream, punch a pillow. Let it out.

Sometimes, the sadness we fear feeling ends up not being as bad as the fear of it. You might feel relieved, once you're no longer bottling everything up and sleeping/distracting yourself to avoid feeling sad. As cliche as a it is, the only way out is through.

Have an ox rib (platonic) for the journey. You can do it.

[dropthedemiurge]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to other writers. Spread the self-love~ 🫶🏻

Thank you for the request, I finally got to it :D Five fics that I've written which are my favourite - (and I had to choose only those I've already finished, but a lot of my fav settings are in the long long chaptered poly fics x)) 1. Caught In the Downpoor – Sky/Rain, Love in The Air I love the entire trilogy I wrote because it was a silly whimsy idea that we had a lot of fun developing on discord and then I started writing it, and other people supported it too and now there are so many awesome SkyRain fics out there that absolutely fit my taste with ADHD, platonic bdsm and close friendship vibes. This is just such a comfort ghost ship for me that is popular enough to constantly return to xD I might even write fourth story for them one day! Who knows when inspiration hits but I'm not really done with those weather besties.

2. Young And Menace - Sand/Ray, Todd/Black, Not Me + Only Friends I love this one because crossovers of any Thai BL with Not Me is an amazing idea, in my opinion. And since we got to know Sand lived in the same building as Black, and we didn't get to see him using his bat, I took the headcanon of them being friends and ran with it xD Plus, I think, this story just poured out of me in one sitting and I didn't really know what was going to happen, but all of them ended up very emotional. And poetical. And I consider it well written so yeah, my fav!

3. I let you paint me in black - Black/|Yok, Not Me I am back with my Not Me fics and ghost ships :D We joked on NM discord that Yok definitely tried to get it on with all of gang members, and he's also the kinky one - meanwhile Black is on the violent side. I put handcuffs on Yok, gave Black some tools and played with them like dolls. And as expected, they had a lot of fun! This and its sequel fic are some of my short stories that I write in one sitting simply for an idea but I think I managed to capture some tension between these characters which I don't usually have in my stories.

4. Capturing the sight of a broken soul - Nick/|Sand, Nick/Boston, Only Friends Uh... I don't need to put a disclaimer about another ghost ship, do I? I just love platonic bonds and close friendship that are borderline romantic or touchy. And somebody needed to comfort Sand after everything he's been through! Come on! And Nick had to repay with his kindness and softness back. Also I challenged myself to write Boston's POV here which was... extremely fun! I was thinking how he and Sand could get to a more friendly side, and I think I found the way.

5. Boredom is a crime - Korn/Wai, Bad Buddy Last but not least, this was my first ever fic I wrote for Thai BL series. Which was on itself fascinating, as I haven't been really writing for years in my other kpop fandom. But meeting other fans and ficwriters, getting overwhelming support and attention for my works and forming community felt so inspiring that I started writing and drawing for myself and for fun again. It was also the time when I challenged myself to write coherent stories in English, and I practiced on BBS and NM. Also I should really write more (even more) asexual and ADHD characters... Anyway, Korn's POV is still my favourite and I had a lot of fun and it's a very important milestone.

It was a nostalgic journey, and I remembered once again what I love writing about. I never know what message do I give but I hope my stories are simply comforting or fun to explore for other people =)

I'm passing the torch to @ullvide @xagan @springkitten @doyou000me @wereflamingo-in-thai-dramaland (or tag me if you already did such post!)

[sussoro]

hello!! please tell me more about your detective for M who’s gonna freak out when they say ily because that reaction and the aftermath is going to be so so good 💆🏻‍♀️💆🏻‍♀️💆🏻‍♀️

hello to you too! hope you're doing well 💕 i'm really sorry it took me so long to reply, but i needed to sort through my very confusing thoughts to give them some sort of consistency, sjksjks. if you guys ever find yourselves curious about any of my ocs (which you can easily find here) please, do not hesitate to ask! i just love talking aimlessly about them and receiving these types of questions makes my heart all fuzzy and warm, so thank you for taking an interest in one of my wayhaven detectives!

okay, you didn't ask for my stupid rambles (and i swear one day i'll stop — *insert the 'today is not that day' meme*) so here are some facts:

RUE PARKER

‘the wayhaven chronicles’ canon

personality stats: sarcastic, easygoing & charming (also: not really a stickler for the rules and authority in general);

professional skills: deduction, science & combat — no matter what she's doing or how many times she's done it, the results will always be perfect and spot on;

rebecca → relationship status: not overly bad. honestly? could be better, but it could be much, much worse (personal note #1: rebecca is not my favourite character in the series and i'd probably be happier if she had died already — fingers crossed for book 5, sorry-not-sorry, becky — or, at least, if the narrative/characters would stop forcing the readers/mc to forgive her);

tina & verda → relationship status: best pals. her ride-or-die squad;

felix → relationship status: best friend. she found a mischievous kindred soul to relate with and if you ever encounter them together... run (there's this scene at the beginning of book 3, where adam/ava asks why the werewolves attacked them and rue answered with: "i may have made one teeny sarcastic comment", causing adam's/ava's soul to leave their body, lol);

bobby → relationship status: ex-boyfriend (personal note #2: i've always hated that the mc's gender/sexuality is what determines the ros' and bobby's gender) — she's not bothered by him at all, but since her responses are very sarcastic, well... rest in peace, robert marks;

mason → relationship status: a big, bright question mark;

personal canon

if i have to choose a few words to describe her, i'd say: naturally talented, wild card & big dick energy;

hyperactive little kid — couldn't stay still at all. always exploring the world around her, climbing up some tree/furniture or hiding somewhere in the house/backyard to play (the sitters tasked with keeping an eye on her went batshit crazy all. the. time);

as i said here, rue is extremely smart, often prone to boredom if something is not mentally challenging/stimulating enough (which can also be applied to her romantic relationships);

if you ever need someone to cut out some tension (or spike it up even more), she is the right gal for you. unfortunately, 99% of the time, the saying 'taking things seriously' is not part of her vocabulary (e.g. in book 3, when finding out about the trappers' bounty, she says: "how much am i worth?"). what can i say, she really likes to have a good time;

sarcasm is her default mode, plus she always downplays her feelings/emotions by either ignoring them or making badly-timed jokes;

rarely bothered by anything (e.g. in book 3, during the 'fight' with mason/morgan at the bakery, rue replies with: "me being naked is way more important to you") plus, not a jealous person ever (alima included, when she'll make her appearance);

was in an on-again/off-again relationship with bobby. after a while, though, she got exceedingly bored by the monogamous lifestyle and decided to dump his ass;

never had serious relationships/fell in love before — this is partly because: a) she's a free-spirited person & b) she's scared shitless of commitment (mostly caused by rook's death and seeing what that did to rebecca). in a sense, she and mason are quite similar;

just thinking about the word 'love' has her panicking really bad (i.e. after the 'date' at the antique shop), so when mason will inevitably confess his feelings to her... the only way i can see this going is with rue assuming it's all some kind of prank but, once her huge brain will catch on the fact that mason is not exactly the joking type, she will get cold feet and blearily say: "uhh, thank you, i guess?". after realizing what she has said/done, she will skedaddle so fast that the only thing people are going to see is an indistinctive, blurry form (later, she will definitely wish for an asteroid to hit her);

likes to sing everywhere: in the shower, at her workplace, inside the car, you name it (and she's also very good at hitting those high notes too — while she was attending the police academy, 'the karaoke incident' happened and no one beside her and tina knows the truth about it. verda is still trying to unsuccessfully bribe them to know what took place);

excellent chef — loves to cook/bake when she has some free time (she just thinks the entire process is pretty neat, starting with a few ingredients to achieve a full-on meal);

[nithrissa]

Questions & Commands

In the three years since Sebastian had met MC he had seen her display every emotion that one could have. He had seen her eyes light up with mirth as laughter pealed from her lips. He had seen great sorrow overtake her as tears streamed down her soft cheeks, and rage wrinkle her brows and nose into fury. He witnessed her glazed stare of boredom, the knot between her brows when she tried to work out a problem and her mischievous grin when she was being cheeky. Being the academic he was - and for no other reason - he had studied each turn of her lips and quirk of her brow. He considered himself to be an expert when it came to her face, which is why he was so caught off guard by her current expression. One that he had not seen before. Her eyes were wide, lips pressed flat and a deep blush covered her cheeks and nose. She was embarrassed.

Sure he had seen her flushed before whether from the cold air, a warm butterbeer or a passing compliment from someone she had helped, but he had never seen her so…flustered, and it stirred something in him. Mostly outrage that it was Garreth's question that caused her current predicament and not his own. 

They were currently seated in The Three Broomsticks enjoying a night out amidst their rigorous N.E.W.T study for a few drinks and some lighthearted fun with their classmates. Sebastian sat beside Ominis and MC around a large wooden table that also contained Garreth, Leander, Imelda, Poppy, Samantha and Everett. The group had spent the last twenty minutes playing 'Questions and Commands', a game wherein they take turns being the 'commander' and ask a question everyone has to answer or they would be commanded to do something silly or embarrassing. The game had started easy with people asking questions about what people planned to do when they left school then graduated to questions about embarrassing moments and secrets, most of which had not phased MC in the least. Not until Garreth took his turn and asked the table, "who was your first crush?" 

The table erupted into a fit of giggles as they each revealed their first school aged crush, usually someone innocuous that they held a candle for when they were eleven or twelve. Sebastian gave a cheeky grin when he revealed that Professor Garlick was his first crush and Leander shared his sentiments. 

When it was MC's turn to answer she smugly replied, "Cecil McGuire." To the confused stares of her friends. 

"Who?" Garreth questioned.

The look of utter satisfaction on MC's face was one of Sebastian's favourites. "He was a boy at my muggle school." 

"That's not fair!" Leander complained. "No one knows who that is!" 

Garreth agreed. "Sorry, MC. I should have specified. First Hogwarts crush." He said with a wide grin.

That's when it started. The growing blush that formed on her cheeks as her lips grew tight. "Too bad, Gaz, you should have specified for the muggleborns." Her confident smile was trying to break through, but the blush remained. 

Garreth raised his hand into the air. "Not so fast, MC. I do believe as commander I get to decide if your answer was sufficient." He was now the one with the smug look. "If you really don't want to answer, I suppose I could command you to…sit on one of the lads' laps for the rest of the game." 

The tension in the air immediately shifted as Sebastian watched MC's expression form into one of embarrassment for the first time. He could see the gears turning in her head as she weighed the options. He, too, weighed her options based on what he would prefer her to do - not that his opinion mattered. On one hand, she entered Hogwarts when she was fifteen, not eleven like the rest of them, so her first crush was not only much more recent, but - he realised to his chagrin - could be sitting at the table. That thought bothered him more than it should. What if she had the misfortune of having a crush on Leander before she came to her senses and he found out? Would he pursue her? Even worse…what if she didn't say anything and Garreth commanded her to sit on Leander's lap? Unacceptable. 

Sebastian caught MC's eye quickly before she looked away, her blush darkening. She picked up her mug of butterbeer and muttered something into her drink as she finished it off. 

"What was that?" Garreth teased, his hand held to his ear. 

MC slammed her mug down onto the table. "Sebastian." She hissed indignantly at the redhead.

He hadn't expected that, but Sebastian couldn't fight the self-satisfied smirk that pulled at his lips.  He clocked the disappointed looks of his male counterparts at the table before he glanced her way once more. Her face was scarlet as she stared at the table like she was trying to will it to swallow her whole. He swallowed thickly as the butterflies he had long repressed began to flutter in his chest. Was it wrong that he wanted to see her like this more often?

 "I'm a little offended that wasn't everyone's answer." He quipped in an attempt to break the tension that hung in the air. It seemed to work as Imelda retched sarcastically and MC rolled her eyes, but pointedly would not look at him. 

As Samantha took her turn as Commander and began to pose a new question to the table, MC excused herself to the lavatory, and did not return.

____________________________________________________

[belteppismo]

Thank you Nadia (@formulaonedirection ) for saving me from my boredom. Questions and answers below!

Are you named after anyone? I'm not, even if a lot of people used to think my name - Benedetta - had something to do with Pope Benedict XVI (when I was actually born one year before he became pope, so that's not the case)

When was the last time you cried? I get really emotional on a daily basis, but I'll say the last time I properly cried my eyes out was last week, when I watched "Stranizza d'amuri"

Do you have kids? I'm not a parent, but a lot of the volunteering I do involves looking after kids, so they are my kids

Do you use sarcasm a lot? No, I'm the least funny or witty person on the planet

What sports do you play/have played? Ballet, which I consider both an art and a sport. I'm overall ridicolously bad at sports though

What's the first thing you notice about other people? I'd say people's faces, but then there's also the huge Sherlock Holmes fan in me who looks for wedding rings, animal fur on clothes, tattoos and stuff like that. The science of deduction, you know

What's your eye colour? Brown

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings all the way. That made me romantic, delusional and way too optimistic for my own sake, but I don't care

Any special talent? Hand lettering and organising surprise parties. Foreign languages maybe too? And I'm good at learning poems by heart, I still remember "A Silvia" and "Il sabato del villaggio" from middle school

Where were you born? Milan, Italy!

What are your hobbies? Reading, writing short stories, listening to music and watching sports, especially tennis (basic girl)

Do you have any pets? My turtle committed suicide 14 years ago and I'm still not over it. I'm also afraid of most animals, so absolutely not

How tall are you? 168/169 cm

Favourite subject in school? Seriously everything but PE and physics

Dream job? Working as a diplomat. In a little more than a month I'll start studying International Politics and Government, so I'm working on it

I'm tagging some of my favourite tennisblr people so I can get to know them better (only if you have time to answer) @schumi-nadal @caspersruud @jannlitos

[the-eclipse-is-in-me]

Boredom is a strong emotion, so I did this shit

What is your nickname?

On here, you can also calm me Cres for short

When is your birthday?

My real one it 14/07/11 and Cresent's is 28/11/09

What was your longest relationship?

2 years

What is your favorite book?

Can't choose, but my favourite series is TOA or SYA

What is something you're insecure about?

My stomach

5 Male celebrity crushes

Tom Holland, Walker Scolbell, Jace Norman, Alec Benjamin, and Canon Gray

5 Female celebrity crushes

I can't think of any (I'm serious)

What is your dream job?

I have 3, Author, Psychologist and Astrophysicist

What do you consider your biggest accomplishment?

Living this long (I've had a lot of close calls)

What is a fact about you that nobody would believe?

I had my first and only boyfriend at six, married him at seven, and he left when I was eight

What were your highs and lows for this last month?

I got super sick, lost my money at school and have had at least 3 assignments due at all times

I don't think September had any high points

Where is somewhere you'd like to visit?

Greece because of my new love for its history and London to see my grandmother

How do you de-stress?

Listen to my playlist while reading a solangelo au

What are your favorite apps besides tumblr?

Pinterest, YouTube and Spotify

Describe yourself in one sentence.

Purple is a mix of red and blue, and everything they represent, all with a crown on top

What do you think makes you attractive?

I smart and my willingness to keep trying even though it is hard (you people don't see this part of me cause I come here to complain and talk about pjo)

What is something you're really good at?

Math and Calligraphy

What is something you're really bad at?

Teamwork

A time that you told a lie.

Can't remember (right now)

What's a totally random and useless fact that you know?

The tip of a shoelace is called an aglet (learnt this from that one episode of Phineas and Ferb)

Who knows you the best?

Cresent

What is your most prized possession?

My laptop

What is your longest friendship?

Dead

When did you first feel like an adult?

Je ne suis pas adulte

Do you/ Have you played any sports?

Swimming and Volleyball

How are you feeling right now?

Mixed as always

Are you an early bird or a night owl?

Night owl probably for life

Do you believe in love at first sight?

I believe in love in first words

Favorite song lyrics right now?

"Someday I'll be falling, without caution, but for now I'm only, People watching" People Watching by Canon Gray

What does self care look like for you?

Showering and eating every day

Describe yourself with 3 singers.

Alec Benjamin, Taylor Swift, Canon Gray

What makes you nervous?

People

What’s a pet peeve you have?

Spitting and one-uppers

What will always make you cry?

The Riodanverse Characters and their traumas, espspecially Solangelo, but as their own characters and as a couple

What kind of first impression do you think you make on people?

Quiet book-lover who probably has her life under control and is always calm (people, tell me how many of these are true, cause I asked my friends and this is the answer they gave me)

Free Pass! (Ask any question you want that's not on the list)

I you could join any other universe/dimension what would you choose. I would go to the Riodanverse, the Boiling Isles in the owl house or Earth-1610 in the Spiderverse.

Question Game

Are we tired of these yet?

What is your nickname?

When is your birthday?

What was your longest relationship?

What is your favorite book?

What is something you're insecure about?

5 Male celebrity crushes

5 Female celebrity crushes

What is your dream job?

What do you consider your biggest accomplishment?

What is a fact about you that nobody would believe?

What were your highs and lows for this last month?

Where is somewhere you'd like to visit?

How do you de-stress?

What are your favorite apps besides tumblr?

Describe yourself in one sentence.

What do you think makes you attractive?

What is something you're really good at?

What is something you're really bad at?

A time that you told a lie.

What's a totally random and useless fact that you know?

Who knows you the best?

What is your most prized possession?

What is your longest friendship?

When did you first feel like an adult?

Do you/ Have you played any sports?

How are you feeling right now?

Are you an early bird or a night owl?

Do you believe in love at first sight?

Favorite song lyrics right now?

What does self care look like for you?

Describe yourself with 3 singers.

What makes you nervous?

What’s a pet peeve you have?

What will always make you cry?

What kind of first impression do you think you make on people?

Free Pass! (Ask any question you want that's not on the list)

[malka-lisitsa]

“what’s your least favorite emotion?”

Ask my muse invasive questions

There are a lot of emotions Katherine isn't fond of. Tons of little categories that branch off the big umbrella terms. What is her LEAST favourite though? That's not easy to answer.

It's not anger. Katherine knows her anger inside and out, it protects her from everything else. Anger is her go to. Anger is the safe emotion. Anger is the shield that's done more to protect her than anyone or anything else in her life. Anger is comfortable.

Sadness? Loneliness? Inadequacy? All those stack up pretty high. Betrayal? That's more like an old friend you expect to show up, by now she's so used to it, that betrayal is more like a count down than an emotion.

Boredom? The cold stillness that grips her in place and lets her demons catch up to her? That might be it.... but no. There is one other that just wins by a hair.

"Numb."

She'd rather carry everything with her, and let it burn her inside out till she turns to ash than ever deal with feeling nothing at all. Her emotions, her demons, they all make her who she is. She's been alive for five hundred years. Lived with everything. She's been carrying it all for so long the idea of setting everything down even for a second scares her more than the emotions themselves. Katherine is an emotional creature. She's driven by them, acts on them, is fueled by them just as much as she runs from them.

Without her emotions who even is she?

[girldigital]

scrambled eggs

I literally do not know what the fuck I’m doing. Am I happy? Have I made it? Things are good but are they great? What am I striving for? What am I starving for too while we’re at it… Part of me wants to write about Big because he’s my favourite topic, but the novelty has worn off a bit. He’s been so responsive, something I never would’ve seen coming in a million years, yet I am more jaded than ever. Unfortunately for a Gemini Venus, when you lose that thirst for attention, boredom starts settling. Of course, I’d be devastated if he stopped answering, but also maybe that’s what I need. I’m unable to date because he’s got a prime rent-controlled apartment upstairs. Hell, I was thinking about my response to him while laying in bed next to another man I didn’t feel a sliver of emotion for.

I’m supposed to be relishing in my freedom here – to be meeting people day in and day out and experiencing what life has to offer to a pretty girl in her mid-twenties, much of which I was robbed of due to my previous circumstances. Yet, my love life is eerily similar to what it was, and I find myself counting down the days until I go back to my prison. At least now I know he will be there, hopefully also waiting for me. But then what? I come back here to daydream about the sex we had and spit on anybody else who dares look my way with lust?

As much as I am happy that we are still communicating and that he seemingly likes me more than I initially thought, why is he keeping me at arm’s reach if he doesn’t plan of ever holding on. He wears his Mr. Big nickname well I suppose, but all of this for a once-a-year fucking? I don’t even think that can count as a situationship. Though I will say, the sex, when we do have it, feels like no other and the memories stay alive for way longer than they should, probably for both of our mental health’s sake.

Anyway, that’s on my love update. I must let go but I can’t and most likely won’t until he does so first. And even then…it’s not like that worked the first time.

On another note, I’ve finally landed at the stage of acceptance regarding #That job interview, but it does still fill me with a lot of sorrow to think about the joy I felt when I thought I had a chance.

[silverslipstream]

Questions for your ask game:

Do you feel you are a brain with a body or a body with a brain?

What’s your favorite color (if you have one), and what do you associate with it? How long has it been your favorite?

Do the changings of the seasons have specific emotions for you?

May your boredom dissipate soon.

it's half past two in the morning right now. The boredom definitely won't be dissipating any time soon :( Definitely a brain with a body. My body is kinda stupid and at times very constricting. Not to say that my brain isn't both of those things, but at least it has some sort of self-awareness. My favourite colour is blue, specifically the shade of azure, because it's the colour of the sky on a clear and unclouded day. I went through a so-called 'emo phase' where black was my favourite colour a few years back, and when I was younger it was always orange. However, azure has been my favourite for a while now. My second favourite colour would be midnight purple, the metallic kind Nissan use on their Skyline GT-Rs.

The changing of seasons is a strange one. Spring to Summer was always a herald of the end of the year (yes, our Decembers are sunny in New Zealand. We have Christmas on the beach.) It was also frustrating, because New Zealand summers are long and I hate hot weather. Summer to Autumn is my favourite transition, because the leaves turn orange and yellow and things start getting mercifully colder. I'm a hopeless romantic and for me autumn is the season of love; it's such a beautiful time of year. Autumn to Winter is one that many people hate, but I don't mind. Sure, the pretty leaves fall and leave skeleton trees in their wake, but I can bundle up in a coat, gloves and scarf and feel cuddled by my own body heat. Also: hot chocolate with a shot of Bailey's Irish Cream. Try it. You'll love it. Winter to Spring is nice. The world gradually becomes green again, the temperature starts to slowly warm, and people are usually jovial or dying of hay fever. I don't have hay fever, so I don't die. It rains a lot, which can be nice and not so nice. Thanks for the asks! :DDDDDD

[toviatoris]

Life is strange 2.

I didn't expect anything from this game. I was like: ohmygod Jenna & Julien streaming a cool looking game like 2 years ago? Why not.

I can't remember if i was so moved by the 1st game, but i thought about giving it a shot, out of boredom. And i'm so so glad i did because this might be my favourite story based game. Out of everything i've seen.

And also, by watching j&j's playthrough, made me more emotional attached/ empathise more with the characters, especially Daniel, who you could probably hate more because he's the little one and makes the most mistakes. They're caring and respectful, as always. Therefore i recommend you watching them.

At the end of it i could literally wash my face with tears.

Freaking heartbreaking, but really great. And i don't talk like this about everything i've watched. This one marked me. And i'm so glad i got to enjoy seeing it, because i can't see another story based game that can top it, from what i've watched. At least not now.

I have more to say about it, you can check it out on the last 2 slides, but ⚠️ONLY⚠️ if you watched the playthrough/ played it. If you didn't, Please do so.

[vimbry]

ohh yeah like, one of my least favourite social phenomena is when something once beloved naturally runs its course, but people don't seem to recognise their lack of emotional response as boredom and are instead convinced there's some moral failing afoot.

I don't mean occurrences where something happens that's legitimately worthy of some criticism, I mean in the cases where there is literally just. Nothing. but people start tearing it apart looking for reasons like a cake they think something was baked into but is empty