#but i think i got over the worst of it by now?

[lizziesangel]

RAFE CAMERON - not for the money

x FEM!reader - MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: you are scared that rafe thinks you’re only in the relationship for his money

WORD COUNT: 833

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: soft!rafe cameron

the scent of saltwater and pine carried through the open balcony door of rafe cameron’s bedroom, where you perched, fidgeting with the hem of your sundress. it had been a week since you overheard them—the cruel whispers in the back of the country club that claimed you were only with Rafe for his money.

“she’s so lucky,” one girl had sneered. “he pays for everything. i wouldn’t lift a finger either if i had a guy like that.”

“she’s totally using him,” one said, her tone dripping with disdain. “i mean, look at her. rafe’s always paying for everything.”

“right?” the other chimed in. “hair, nails, those dinners? she’s just in it for the money.”

another had laughed. “she just loves the chanel.”

the words striked you like a blow. was that really how people saw you? you’d never thought of yourself as someone who’d take advantage of him, but now, doubt crept in, wrapping around your chest like a vise.

their words kept echoeing in your head as rafe entered the room, his usual confident swagger softened by the adoration in his eyes. he set a bag from your favorite boutique on the dresser—a clear sign that he’d picked up yet another surprise for you.

“hey, sweet girl,” he said, crossing the room to kiss your temple. “i got you something.”

your chest tightened, guilt swarming you.

“baby,” you started, forcing a smile as you turned to face him. “you didn’t have to—”

“i wanted to,” he interrupted, his brows knitting together. “what’s mine is yours, sweet girl. you know that.”

you hesitated, the nagging doubts pulling at your resolve. if the people at the club thought you were a gold digger, you couldn’t stand the idea of him believing it too.

so, that’s when you decided: no more gifts, no more dates entirely on his dime. you were going to prove that you loved him for him.

the next week, your new approach to things began to show.

at your usual dinner spot, when the waiter brought the check, you quickly grabbed it before rafe could.

“what are you doing?” Rafe asked, blinking at you in confusion.

“splitting it,” you said firmly, pulling out your card.

“splitting?” He looked at you like you’d spoken a foreign language. “babe, no, put that away.”

“rafe,” you insisted, your tone leaving no room for argument. “i’m paying for my half.”

he frowned, but he let you do it. that frown deepened over the next few days as he noticed more changes: no more nail or hair appointments showing up on his credit card statement, no impromptu shopping trips with bags of chanel or prada waiting at your apartment.

by the time your next date rolled around, he’d had enough.

“okay,” he said, sliding into the booth across from you at the diner. “spill.”

“spill what?” you asked innocently, focusing intently on your menu.

“don’t play coy, sweet girl. i know you. you’ve been acting weird all week. no more letting me pay, no more gifts—what’s going on?”

you sighed, setting the menu down. “i just… i overheard some people at the club. they think i’m using you just for your money. and i don’t want you to ever think that too.”

his expression softened instantly, and he reached across the table, taking your hand in his.

“baby,” he murmured, his voice low and full of affection. “that’s the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard.”

you looked at him, surprised by his reaction. “rafe—”

“no, listen to me,” he said firmly. “i don’t care what those people say. they don’t know you. i know you. you’ve been there for me when no one else has. you’ve stuck around through my worst. you think i’m dumb enough to think it’s about the money?”

you blinked, his words sinking in.

“i buy you things because i can and want to,” he continued. “because you deserve the world, and i want to give it to you. not because i think you need it, or because i think it’s the only way to keep you around. got it?”

tears pricked at your eyes, and you nodded. “i just… i didn’t want you to feel like i was taking advantage of you.”

he chuckled softly, standing up to slide into the booth beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“sweet girl,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. don’t let some jealous nobodies make you think otherwise.”

you leaned into him, a small smile creeping onto your face.

“okay,” you whispered.

“good,” he said, pulling out his card as the waiter approached. “now let me pay for dinner, and stop being weird.”

you laughed, swatting at his chest. “fine, rafe. you win.”

and as you sat there, wrapped in his arms, you finally let yourself believe it—rafe cameron loved you for you as you loved rafe cameron for rafe cameron.

and that was more valuable than anything money could buy.

[st4rpiece]

needing space after an argument

SFW

characters: luffy, zoro, usopp, sanji x reader summary: an argument with the boys puts your relationship on hold CW: angst no comfort, breaking up (sanji), reader gets hurt, and over 600 words each

────────────────────₊˚.༄

Monkey D. Luffy

The Sunny swayed gently on the open sea, the rhythm of the waves doing little to soothe the tension that crackled in the air. The ship’s usual harmony, filled with laughter and chatter, had been shattered by the argument unfolding on deck.

“You’re seriously impossible, Lu!” you snapped, your voice rising in frustration. Your chest heaved as you stared him down, fury blazing in your eyes.

“You keep charging into battle without thinking, and we’re always left picking up the pieces!”

Luffy stood a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, his straw hat tilted forward. His usual grin—bright and carefree—was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his face was set in a rare, serious frown.

“So what?” he said, his tone almost dismissive. “It worked, didn’t it? We’re fine!”

“Fine?!” you repeated, incredulous, your voice rising an octave.

“Sanji’s limping, Zoro’s covered in bandages, the ship’s a mess, again, and you—” you jabbed a finger toward his chest—“you nearly got yourself killed over some stupid treasure we didn’t even need!”

Luffy threw his arms in the air, his voice growing defensive. “It was shiny! I wanted it!”

You groaned, rubbing your temples as you turned away for a moment, trying to reign in your growing frustration.

“Lu, it’s not about the treasure!” you finally yelled, spinning back toward him.

“It’s about how you never listen to anyone! One day, your recklessness is going to get someone killed!”

The deck fell silent, the rest of the crew lingering nearby, pretending not to eavesdrop as they exchanged wary glances.

Luffy’s jaw tightened at your words, his posture stiffening. His carefree demeanor, the one you had come to rely on, was replaced by something cold and uncharacteristically sharp.

“You’re the only one who seems to always have a problem with the way I do things,” he said, his voice low but cutting.

You froze, staring at him as his words began to sink in.

He took a step closer, his dark eyes burning into yours.

“If the way I run my ship bothers you so much…” He hesitated, as if daring himself to say what came next, but when he spoke again, his tone was firm, biting. “…then maybe you should leave.”

It felt like a slap across the face. The air around you stilled, and for a moment, you couldn’t even process what he had said.

“Luffy,” you said, your voice softer now, as though testing to see if you’d heard him right.

But he didn’t take it back. He just stood there, his face stony, his gaze unreadable.

The silence between you stretched, heavy and unbearable. The rest of the crew watched from their spots, wide-eyed and frozen. Even Zoro, who typically stayed out of these things, had shifted slightly, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana as though bracing for the worst.

You clenched your fists, forcing yourself to swallow past the lump rising in your throat. The sharp sting of his words echoed in your mind, cutting deeper with every passing second. When you finally spoke, your voice was low but steady, masking the turmoil inside you.

“Fine,” you said, the word dropping heavily between you.

Luffy’s eyes widened just enough to show a crack in his hardened expression, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t take it back.

Your voice quivered ever so slightly as you drew in a shaky breath, but you straightened your shoulders, determined not to let him see how deeply his words had cut. “I’ll be gone by tonight,” you said, firm and unwavering despite the ache in your chest.

His breath hitched, and for a split second, his resolve seemed to waver. “No wait—” he said, his voice breaking as he took a step forward, his hand lifting like he was reaching for you.

But you didn’t stop. You turned on your heel and strode toward the stairs, your head held high even as your vision blurred. By the time he worked up the courage to say more, you were already gone, leaving behind a silence even heavier than before.

Roronoa Zoro

The dim glow of the setting sun reflected off the water as you stood on the dock, arms crossed tightly over your chest. The once serene atmosphere was marred by the frustration bubbling inside you as you paced back and forth, stealing glances at the path Zoro should’ve come from an hour ago. The excitement you’d felt earlier now replaced with frustration and disappointment.

Finally, you heard the familiar shuffle of his footsteps, followed by his exasperated grumbling.

“Sorry I’m late,” Zoro muttered as he approached, scratching the back of his neck. His face was impassive, as if showing up an hour after your agreed time wasn’t a big deal.

You exhaled sharply, your patience already frayed. “Late? Zoro, you’re not just late—you’re ridiculously late. Again.”

“I got lost,” he said bluntly, like that was supposed to excuse everything.

“You always get lost,” you shot back, exasperated. “I’m not mad about that—I get it, directions aren’t your thing. But you didn’t think to ask someone for help this time? Or maybe even leave a little earlier?”

Zoro let out a short sigh, his arms crossing over his chest. “What do you want me to do? It’s not like I meant to get lost. I tried.”

“Then maybe next time we can just go together,” you suggested, your voice softening slightly despite your frustration. “That way, we can avoid all this and actually enjoy our dates.”

Your words were meant to be a compromise, a way to avoid another night like this, but Zoro’s face darkened at the suggestion. He scoffed, the sharp sound cutting through the cool evening air.

“Go together?” he repeated, his voice sharp. “What, you think I need you to hold my hand everywhere? I’m not a kid.”

“Zoro,” you blinked, taken aback by the sudden hostility in his tone. “That’s not what I—”

“No seriously,” he cut you off, his voice growing louder. “That need of yours to control everything—it’s annoying.”

You froze. For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped moving, his words hitting you harder than you thought possible.

“Controlling?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. “Annoying?”

Zoro faltered for a moment, his expression shifting as if he hadn’t meant for the word to come out. But instead of apologizing, he doubled down, his jaw tightening. “Yeah,” he muttered, though his voice had lost some of its bite.

Your lips parted as you stared at him, completely thrown. You had only wanted to help, to make things easier—for both of you. But now, he was looking at you like you were the problem.

“I… I didn’t think trying to help you was so annoying,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “I just didn’t want us to keep missing time together because you—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head as the lump in your throat grew.“Forget it.”

“Wait,” Zoro said, stepping forward, but you instinctively took a step back.

“No, it’s fine,” you said, your voice tight as you forced a bitter smile. “If me trying to help makes me so controlling and annoying, then I won’t bother anymore.”

“Babe, that’s not—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice firmer now. “I get it, Zoro. You don’t need me, and you sure as hell don’t want my help. Message received.”

You turned away before he could say anything else, your heart twisting painfully as you walked back toward the ship.

Zoro remained motionless, his chest heavy as he watched you walk away. His hand started to lift, a silent urge to call out to you, to stop you—but it faltered, falling limply to his side. The realization settled in like a weight: in his frustration, he hadn’t just lashed out—he’d driven away the one person who always tried to understand him. And now, he could only watch as you disappeared.

God Usopp

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut through as you sat on the Sunny’s deck, fidgeting with your hands. Usopp had been distant for the past two days, barely sparing you a glance and keeping his responses short whenever you tried to talk to him. It wasn’t like him—not with you.

You stole a glance across the ship where he was working on one of his gadgets, his movements tense and hurried, the usual care he put into his work noticeably absent. You’d been patient, waiting for him to come to you, but whatever was bothering him wasn’t going away.

“Usopp,” you finally called, your voice gentle but firm as you stood and walked over to him.

He didn’t look up. “What?”

The coldness in his tone made you flinch, but you pressed on. “Can we talk? You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” he muttered, fiddling unnecessarily with the gadget in his hands.

“Yes, you are,” you said, standing your ground. “What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”

At that, he froze, his fingers tightening around the tool in his hand. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said flatly, but his voice lacked conviction.

You crouched down beside him, your brows furrowed. “Then what is it? Why won’t you talk to me?”

He finally looked at you, his jaw tight and his eyes flickering with frustration. “Why’d you call Luffy?”

The question caught you off guard. “What?”

“Two days ago, when you were in trouble,” he said, his voice louder now. “You didn’t call for me. You called for Luffy.”

Realization dawned on you, but before you could respond, he continued.

“Was I just not good enough?” he asked, his tone bitter. “Did you think I couldn’t handle it? That I’d just screw it up and get hurt?”

“What? No, that’s not—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, standing up abruptly and taking a step back. “Just don’t. I get it. I know I’m not as strong as Luffy or Zoro or Sanji. I know I’m not the first one people think of when they’re in danger. But I thought… I thought maybe you—” He stopped himself, shaking his head as he clenched his fists. “Forget it.”

You stood as well, your chest tightening at the hurt in his voice. “Baby, listen to me,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “You are strong and very capable. I called for Luffy simply because he was closer. That’s it.”

But he didn’t look at you, his eyes fixed on the deck. “It doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “I just… I need some space, okay?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Usopp, the one who always sought you out, who always seemed happiest when you were by his side, was asking you to leave him alone.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sting. “If that’s what you need,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll give you space. But I’m not giving up on this, Usopp. Or you.”

He didn’t respond, only nodding slightly before turning his back to you. You lingered for a moment, hoping he’d say something, anything, to stop you from walking away. But the silence stretched, and eventually, you had no choice but to leave him be.

As you walked away, your heart ached for him, for the insecurities he tried so hard to hide. You could only hope that when he was ready, he’d let you help him see the truth—that in your eyes, Usopp was more than enough.

Vinsmoke Sanji

The evening sun bathed the deck of the Sunny in golden light, but the sight before you felt anything but warm. Sanji stood at the railing, surrounded by a small group of women from the port town you’d just docked in, his eyes sparkling as he lavished them with compliments and dramatic promises of eternal devotion.

You stood at a distance, arms crossed over your chest, watching the scene unfold before you. It wasn’t the first time Sanji had acted like this, and you had always let it slide, convincing yourself that he would stop eventually. But now, the painful truth settled in, and it felt like a dagger twisting in your chest.

When the women finally left, giggling and waving, you stepped forward, your footsteps deliberate. “Sanji,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended.

He turned, his usual cheerful expression faltering when he saw the look on your face. “Oh, my love! Did you see those ladies? They were absolute angels—”

“Why do you keep doing this?” you interrupted, crossing your arms tighter.

“Doing what?” he asked, genuinely confused, tilting his head.

“This,” you said, gesturing toward where the women had just walked off. “Flirting with every woman who so much as glances your way.”

Sanji blinked, his confusion deepening as he processed your words.“My love, what a wrong? You never complained about this before?”

Your jaw clenched, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “That’s because I thought it would stop once we got together. I didn’t think that as your girlfriend I would still have to compete with every pretty women you see.”

His eyes widened, as if the thought had never occurred to him. “But, sweetheart, it’s not like that. You’re not competing with anyone I—”

"It is like that Sanji, and honestly, I can't keep doing this," you interrupted, your voice trembling. "It's clear we're not on the same page when it comes to what’s acceptable in a relationship."

The air between you shifted, thick with the weight of your words, each one hanging in the space between you like an unspoken truth.

Sanji’s mouth opened slightly, his brow furrowing as if he were about to protest, but no words came out. He stood there, frozen, as if the reality of the situation hadn’t fully hit him yet. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed to say, his voice a little rough, “Why does this feel like a breakup?”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. Every word felt like it was trapped, lodged somewhere deep inside, fighting its way to the surface. But you couldn’t hold it back any longer. Your eyes never left Sanji’s face, watching the shock and confusion slowly morph into something you couldn’t bear to see.

“That’s because it is,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible, the weight of the words pressing down on you.

The finality of it echoed in your ears, louder than you ever expected. You wanted to say more, to explain, to somehow make him understand that this wasn’t easy for you, that it wasn’t what you wanted. But the truth was, you had already said everything you needed to. This was the point of no return.

“Wait,” he said, stepping closer, his voice desperate. “Don’t do this baby, please. I didn’t know it bothered you. If I had, I— I would’ve stopped. I’ll stop now. I swear.”

You looked away, willing yourself to stay firm despite the raw emotion in his voice. “It’s not just about stopping, Sanji. It’s about the fact that you didn’t even realize that your actions would hurt me. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t see a problem with flirting with others.”

“Please, my love,” he said, reaching for your hand, but you stepped back, shaking your head.

“I can’t, Sanji,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, each step pulling you further from him.

Sanji stood there, his hand outstretched for a moment longer as if he could reach out and somehow make you stay. But the weight of your words hit him like a punch to the gut. He had lost you—not because he didn’t care, but because he hadn’t shown you he did in the way you needed.

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one piece masterlist

question! how do you guys feel about a queer version of the smau’s with fem or gn reader (idrc) for nami, robin, vivi, perona, boa, and yamato?

it’s in my drafts and i’ll still post it when done just wanted to see if the gays see my vision 🤭

i have two more (one request) for angst but i'll have those up soon now that i’m free from the shackles of school.

anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed :).

not proofread and caps may look weird typed this on my phone and computer 😭

(had to re-upload this didn't realize it posted before I was done)

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Tipping Point

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: sexual tension, implied smut

Summary: Your aunt signs you up for shooting lessons with Spencer Reid. You get more than you bargained for when you go.

Square Filled: alex blake (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Not having a job is really kicking your ass. All you do is stay at home and flip through magazines and shows you’ve already watched. Since your parents died, your aunt has taken you under her wing. The housing and renting market is a joke right now, so you’re living with her until you can go to school. You want to go into her field since you look up to her so much, but the school year doesn’t start for another three months.

So, you’re just trying to pass the time by reading magazines and watching shit reality shows.

Aunt Alex walks downstairs after getting ready for work, and she goes to the kitchen where the full pot of coffee you brewed is waiting for her.

“So, what do you have planned for today?” she asks.

“Well, at ten, I want to cure diseases, and at two, I plan on writing a thesis on String Theory. Why? Do you have something planned? I can see if I can fit you in,” you say sarcastically.

“You’re so funny,” she rolls her eyes playfully. “There’s actually something I want you to do for me.”

“What’s up?”

“I signed you up for shooting lessons. One of my coworkers is teaching the class, and he knows you’re coming. Your appointment is at two.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. She’s been nagging you to take shooting lessons ever since you moved in with her.

“Aunt Alex…”

“Y/N, listen, your mother wasn’t prepared and look where it got her. I’m not letting the same thing happen to you.”

She’s right. Your father died shortly after you were born so your mom was the protector. There was an invasion one night and she wasn’t able to protect herself against the intruder. She died fighting to save you. Alex sees evil every single day, and it would break her heart if you weren't prepared for the worst.

“Fine, I’ll go,” you sigh.

“Good. It’s at two. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.”

The morning is filled with reality TV, and the early afternoon is when you prepare to go to this lesson. What should you wear? A dress might be too much so you pick out a nice pair of jeans and a loose shirt. Once ready, you leave the house and head over to the shooting range. You’re not sure who from her team is going to be teaching you. You’ve never met them but you do know them by name. David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, and Spencer Reid. You don’t think Rossi or Hotch will teach you so it has to be either Derek or Spencer.

The shooting range is empty, probably due to Alex’s influence. She wanted whoever is teaching it to focus on you the whole time.

“Hello? Anyone here?”

“In the back!”

You walk to the back and see a tall and slender man putting away supplies. From Penelope’s use of the phrase “Chocolate Thunder” (thanks to Aunt Alex repeating it several times), you know this is Spencer Reid. Spencer turns and you’re immediately floored by how attractive he is. You’ve met your fair share of men and have hooked up with more than one of them, but Spencer is on a whole other level.

This is a man right here. You’re into older men, too. You’re not sure how old he is but he can’t be more than thirty-five.

He walks over to you with a smile. “Hi, I’m Spencer Reid. Alex said you were coming over.” No words are coming out so you just nod instead. “Have you ever shot a gun before?” Again, you can only shake your head. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

He takes you over to the area where you shoot and shows an array of guns on the table next to it. He picks up the smaller one and hands it over to you.

“Wow, this is heavier than I thought it was going to be,” you chuckle when you grab it.

“Yeah, don’t let that scare you. This is a very easy gun to use. First, safety.”

Spencer takes the gun from you and puts it on the table before grabbing a pair of earmuffs and safety glasses. You look up at him as he slides the earmuffs over your ears, and he looks into your eyes. He briefly looks down at your lips but it was so quick that you could have been imagining it.

“Does that fit well?”

Even through the earmuffs, his voice is like honey. You nod and he moves onto the glasses. He slides them on despite you having full capabilities of doing this yourself. You look down and the glasses slide off your face entirely, and you chuckle shyly. Both you and Spencer lean down to pick it up, and your hand bumps against his.

It was just a bump but that sends shockwaves through your body. Based on how Spencer is looking at you, you know he felt the same. This is different than any fling you had. You’ve never felt this type of attraction toward another man.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s okay.” He grabs the glasses. “Let me get another pair.” Spencer leaves and returns with a smaller pair. “Are those okay?”

“Better,” you smile.

“Okay, take the gun and turn the safety off.” You pick up the gun and flip the little switch. Spencer steps closer to you, so close that you can feel his body heat behind you. Butterflies flutter in your stomach but you try to ignore them. “Here, hold it like this.”

He reaches around you and fixes the way you hold the gun. He has to press himself closer to your back, and you silently thank Aunt Alex for setting this up for you.

“Am I holding it right?” you ask.

“Yes.”

His breath is hot against your neck, and you swear you can feel your panties dampening a little bit.

“Now what?”

“Shoot.” You aim at the target in front of you and shoot three times, all of the bullets not hitting the target but on the paper outside of it. “Okay, next time, don’t close one eye. That actually doesn’t help.”

“Okay,” you chuckle. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Try again. This time, try to aim for the heart.”

You aim at the target but freeze when you feel Spencer’s hand sliding up your arms and down to your waist. How can you think about this when all you can think about is his hands on your body? You shoot the target twice, both of the bullets hitting the target. However, one hit his leg and the other hit his hand.

“Better?”

“Yeah, a bit. Are you sure you’ve never shot a gun before?”

“Never.”

“For a first-timer, you’re doing a lot better than other newbies.”

“Thanks,” you smile. “I just have a really great teacher.”

Spencer spends the next thirty minutes teaching you how to shoot multiple different guns. By the time you’re done, the sexual tension is high. Spencer steps back from you and you regret not failing more just so you can feel his body against yours.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today. I do think you might benefit from one more lesson. Are you free next week?”

“Yes,” you say too quickly. “I mean, I can make that work. Just let me know.”

“Great.”

Spencer removes your glasses and then your earmuffs while staring into your eyes the whole time. The tension between you two is like a boiling pot of water. It’s going to overflow any second now, and you can’t wait to see what will happen when he snaps. He looks down at your lips and you lick them slowly, and that seems to be the tipping point.

He grabs your waist and pulls you into him before slamming his lips on yours. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. He hooks his hands under your thighs and lifts you up with ease, setting you on the small table so you’re up to his height. Spencer slides his tongue along your bottom lip, but he kisses his way down your jaw to your neck instead of licking inside your mouth.

“Alex is going to kill me,” he mutters between kisses.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” you moan.

Spencer pulls back and kisses you once again. If you knew this was waiting for you, you would have taken lessons a lot sooner.

x

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[daisymbin]

Hi!! Could I have 24 and 31 fluff with mingyu? 🥹🥹

I love your writing btw!! I look forward to each story 🥹🥹

thank you lovely!!! hopefully you enjoy this one too!! <3

full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // gyu's m.list

fluff prompt #24: "you’re the only person who knows how to make me smile like this." +

fluff prompt #31:"you’re like my personal sunshine."

mingyu sat on the couch, arms crossed, determined not to laugh. jeonghan, dokyeom, and joshua had pulled out every trick in the book—terrible impressions, absurd dance moves, and a variety of props that didn’t make sense. (why was dokyeom wearing a traffic cone on his head?)

but mingyu hadn’t cracked, not once. “you guys are terrible at this,” he said smugly.

jeonghan narrowed his eyes. “oh, you think you’re tough, huh? just you wait.” he turned toward the hallway and yelled, “we need backup!”

you peeked into the room, confused. “what’s going on?”

“mingyu’s trying to act all serious,” jeonghan explained, waving you in. “we need you to make him laugh. you’re the secret weapon.”

mingyu immediately smiled at the sight of you, the corners of his lips betraying him even before you stepped fully into the room.

you raised an eyebrow. “wait, did you already smile? i didn’t even do anything yet.”

“i didn’t smile,” mingyu lied, pressing his lips together and looking away.

“oh, he definitely smiled,” joshua said, grinning.

jeonghan clapped his hands together. “perfect. now, all you have to do is—”

“actually,” you interrupted, walking over and crossing your arms, “i don’t even need to try. i can just talk about the time mingyu cried because he thought his favorite hoodie shrunk in the wash.”

mingyu’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping “don’t!”

“oh, i have to,” you said, grinning as you turned to the others. “it was last winter. he came over in a full panic, holding the hoodie like it was a wounded animal, whining, ‘it’s ruined! my favourite hoodie is ruined!’”

joshua burst out laughing. “no way.”

“i was devastated!” mingyu defended, his voice getting higher.

“you didn’t even check the tag,” you continued, ignoring him. “i looked at it and told him it was one of those cropped hoodies. it wasn’t even shrunk.”

dokyeom fell over, clutching his stomach as he laughed. “he thought it shrunk?!”

“he tried to stretch it out!” you added, laughing now too. “he was literally pulling on it like it was gum, yelling, ‘why, why, why?!’”

mingyu groaned, burying his face in his hands. “you’re the worst.”

“oh, i’m not done,” you said, wiping a tear from your eye. “remember the time you got stuck in the elevator because you hit every single button trying to be funny?”

jeonghan leaned forward. “wait, what happened?”

“he was trying to impress some kid who was in the elevator with him,” you explained. “he hit every button, and then the elevator got stuck between floors. he had to wait for maintenance to get him out. how embarrassing.”

by this point, mingyu had given up, laughing along with everyone else. “okay, okay, that’s enough!”

“oh no, we’re just getting started,” joshua said, wiping tears from his eyes.

mingyu shook his head, looking at you with mock betrayal. “i can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

you shrugged innocently. “hey, you brought this on yourself. don’t challenge me if you’re not ready.”

he sighed dramatically but couldn’t hide the grin spreading across his face. “you’re seriously the only person who knows how to make me laugh like this.”

you paused, caught off guard by his tone. “mingyu…”

he smiled at you, the teasing gone from his expression. “i mean it. you’re like my personal sunshine.”

the room went quiet for a beat, the other three exchanging knowing looks.

“okay, that’s sweet and all,” jeonghan broke the silence, “but you still lost the game.”

mingyu rolled his eyes. “yeah, yeah, whatever.”

but as he looked back at you, his smile softened. “thanks for always knowing how to cheer me up, even if it’s at my expense.”

“anytime,” you said, grinning. “besides, you’re the easiest target.” as the laughter continued, mingyu couldn’t help but think that losing the game wasn’t so bad when it meant having you there to brighten his day.

[chrissturnsfav]

fuckgirl!reader flirting with loser!matt, but she’s drunk so he’s just acting all nonchalant abt it

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 loser!matt babysits drunk fuckgirl!reader

the bass thumps in your chest, the music a relentless pulse that matches the dizzying swirl of the room. everything’s fuzzy—lights blurring into streaks, voices overlapping into a symphony of noise. you don’t remember how many drinks you’ve had, but it’s definitely more than you should’ve.

and then there’s matt. sweet, awkward matt.

"matt," you whine over the music that echoes in your ears, drawing out his name, your hand reaching for his sleeve. your fingers barely graze the fabric before you lose balance, tumbling halfway into his lap.

he catches you, because of course he does, his reflexes sharper than you’d expect. "careful," he says, voice dry but not unkind.

"i am careful," you insist, dragging yourself up and planting one hand on his chest for stability. it’s a nice chest—solid under your palm. "you’re just in my way."

"can we go upstairs?" you say feigning sweetness with a crooked smirk, your breath warm against his neck.

"nah." he leans back and manspreads on the couch, cool as ever, like he’s immune to your charms. it’s sickening.

"why not?" you pout, tugging at his arm. your dress rides up as you move, not that you care—matt’s the only one looking, and isn’t that the point?

"because you’re drunk kid," he says simply, tilting his head like he’s assessing whether you’re about to topple over again.

"so?" you challenge, a teasing grin spreading across your face. "you’re supposed to take care of me, aren’t you? that’s what guys do at parties, right? fuck pretty girls?"

he rolls his eyes but doesn’t let go when you wrap your arms around his neck. "m'not fucking you kid," he snickers.

you groan, a little too loud, and press your forehead against his. "you’re no fun, matt. chris would fuck me. he would probably die for the chance."

"yeah, but i’m not chris," he says, gently disentangling your arms from his neck.

"clearly," you mutter, falling back onto the couch in a dramatic heap. you look up at him, your eyes hooded and pleading. "don’t you think i’m pretty, though?"

he snorts, shaking his head. "nice try."

"what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" you demand, half-offended, half-sickened by how unaffected he is.

"it means you’re wasted, and you’re not gonna trick me into saying something stupid," he says, leaning down to pull a blanket off the back of the couch. he drapes it over your legs, ignoring your protests.

"you’re boring," you declare, crossing your arms with a drunken frown.

"and you’re a fucking mess," he counters, his smirk softening into something almost fond. "but don’t worry. i’ve got you."

his words hit you in a way you didn’t expect—soft and steady, but somehow leaving a mark. it makes your chest tighten, your thighs hot, and your stomach flip.

you know he’s just being responsible matt, always the boring one, always the one making sure things don’t spiral out of control. but the way his eyes linger on yours, the hint of warmth behind the teasing, makes you need him even more.

you grab his hand, holding onto it like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. "matt," you say again, but this time it’s quieter, your voice dipping into something softer, almost vulnerable.

"what now?" he asks, half-laughing, though his hand doesn’t pull away.

"just one little kiss, at least. please?" you say, your voice dropping into something softer, more pleading.

he laughs, shaking his head like you’re ridiculous. "not happening."

"you're the fucking worst," you whine, ripping your hand from his and sinking into the couch again.

"sleep it off kid," he says, his voice softer now. "you’ll thank me later."

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: the way i literally was writing this without even seeing this anon! i was abt to publish it and then checked my inbox and i was like :o that's perfect. so i copy and pasted the draft here.

thank you for reading! <3

tags: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @swagalicious260 , @sturnhyyhblog , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott

@chrissturnsfav ™

[actuallyjustabiscuit]

Jax’s behavior is legit pretty fascinating

Yes it’s time I ramble about the purple twink.

Fast Food Masquerade did something crazy in that it actually got me to start empathizing with the asshole because Jax’s visible frustration throughout this adventure was too real.

And in fact, it’s why I think Jax was acting so “different” towards the latter half of the episode.

This adventure was Too. Damn. Real.

Now, Jax’s character is actually really simple. He even sums up his whole schtick in the pilot.

“I’m fine with doing whatever, as long as I get to see funny things happen to people.”

Then in a hilarious bit of instant karma, promptly gets hit in the face with a gloink

The “-who aren’t me” part of that self description pretty much goes without saying.

Immediately after this happens, Jax’s little laidback exterior gets so rattled that he suddenly feels the need to take control and starts assigning tasks to everyone. And his casual attitude only returns once he feels like he’s not in any position for ridicule, by redirecting the potential for ridicule onto others. This is his defense mechanism.

Jax needs to feel in control, so he deliberately controls whatever situation he’s in to get the results he wants.

Something that I’ve always appreciated about Jax from a meta perspective is that he’s a character who actively moves the story forward, usually because he wants to satisfy his urge to create chaos.

And that’s the main thing about Jax, he’s really destructive.

Like…almost pointlessly destructive.

But, y’know what? It makes sense. Because he’s in a video game.

Where else can you be as needlessly and excessively chaotic than in a game where you can do pretty much anything because nothing is real?

Jax can hurt whoever and wreck whatever because if he’s living by video game logic, then there are no lasting consequences to his actions.

Jax even goes so far as to refer to Pomni, and by extension the other trapped humans, as a “character” in the pilot. Which goes to show how little he wants to consider them as people.

You can’t really hurt a character. And if used correctly, a character can be entertaining.

And that’s all Jax really wants out of his new life in the Circus, entertainment. Because the worst thing you can be while stuck in a game is be bored.

But of course, even in games, your actions have certain consequences that are just unavoidable.

And Episode 4 really beat Jax’s yellow teeth in with that not-so-fun little reminder. Because this bit right here

Pretty much was the precedent for how bad Jax was gonna get it this time.

And it all starts with Gangle absolutely refusing to let his usual bullshit slide by personally making sure that there will be consequences.

This is the first crack in Jax’s mask, he’s visibly concerned and annoyed that he no longer is allowed to be himself lest he risks getting punished. And even more baffling is that for the first time, Gangle asserts her power over him. She actually does something about his behavior, ripping the wind right out of his sails. Not only that but she continually enforces her authority, making it harder on him to get the upper hand again.

Now his interaction with Zooble is really interesting, because it’s the first time we see him at his most normal.

I don’t think he’s trying to tease them here, I feel like he’s genuinely curious about Zooble’s way of “playing” the game, because remember, it’s been a long time since they’ve been on an adventure together, if at all. Zooble’s excuse of wanting to avoid punishment makes sense because they witnessed first hand that Caine’s unstable personality is capable of some legitimate danger.

Of course, Jax believes that there isn’t any real risk involved. The only immediate menace to him and his current desire to just get through the day, is Gangle and her new mask.

At this point he’s not trying to be destructive or disruptive. He’s fully apathetic, because being forced to act like a minimum wage salary employee is not fun in the slightest. He can’t make things fun for himself, so he refuses to participate entirely.

As the clock mocks him with every slow tick, his mask chips more and more.

Jax isn’t saying this to be calculatingly rude or hurtful, he’s not doing this to upset Gangle. He’s being sincere, which is why he’s not smiling.

Because Gangle is much easier to push around and go along with whatever he wants her to do when she’s in Tragedy mode. She’s more “fun” that way.

In other words, he really hates this new dynamic they’ve got going on.

But this little comment, just makes things even worse for him because now Gangle goes from enforcing her authority to straight up abusing it by letting herself abuse him for a change.

It’s crazy how Jax’s main concern here is making sure this torture scene is just between them. He really hates being humiliated, more so than getting physically hurt.

The man has some serious issues, but c’mon we already knew that.

So Jax is finally getting a taste of his own medicine and it completely emasculates him. To the point where he just defaults to doing whatever Gangle tells him to do just to avoid feeling like that again. Now the mask is fully stripped off, he’s openly exasperated and powerless. On top of that he has no real impulse to ridicule or ruffle anyone’s feathers anymore, because for the first time in probably a long while, he’s even more miserable than everyone else.

And what does misery love?

Company

As someone who’s worked in retail for a while, nothing helps keep you sane more than having a little of bit of camaraderie when struggling to survive in corporate hell.

Something that really stood out to me in this episode is the limited use in background music, especially when in Spudsy’s, where you either get muzak to sell the ambiance of a public eatery or silence with the occasional machinery noise.

And yeah, that’d be enough to make shit as immersive as possible. It’s not a coincidence that the restaurant looks like a McDonald’s when Gooseworx even said it was directly modeled after it. It’s uncanny, how real this setup feels.

Uncomfortably uncanny.Jax seething at the clock is a relatable struggle.

The mask immediately comes back on once Jax no longer has any obligation to stick around.

But Jax can’t even enjoy his freedom. His day is officially over, but the sting of the experience still lingers. The adventure wasn’t just boring or frustrating, it was humbling, in every terrible way. This wasn’t a game, it was real life.

And I think the last kick in the teeth was this license plate waiting for him in the parking lot (Why did Caine make them drive “home”? That’s just extra)

One is the loneliest number

Jax doesn’t hide the fact that he’s an asshole, he’s almost proud of it. He practically relishes getting a rise out of everyone. He is well aware that nobody likes him, but I think this where he starts realizing that it actually bothers him.

Everyone has talked about that very brief moment where Jax’s expression changed towards the end of Candy Carrier Chaos, when Ragatha was talking about Kaufmo’s funeral and we get to see him actually get sad for a change, before immediately shaking it off and stomping away in irritation.

Jax showed no concern over Kaufmo’s abstraction in the pilot, so why would he feel sad about it in that moment? Does he secretly care about his fellow humans and just doesn’t want to admit it?

Maybe. But personally, I think the others choosing to morn those who’ve abstracted like they’re dead makes him seriously uncomfortable. Because it serves as a reminder that even in this world, there are still major consequences when some things aren’t taken seriously.

Jax doesn’t want to consider real life consequences. None of them even look like real people, so why should he bother treating everyone like real people?

So when he sees everyone else getting closer and being good to each other, it’s annoying and weird. The idea that they need to look out for one another feels pathetic. Treating abstraction seriously means it’s a real danger, and that would mean that he’s also susceptible to experiencing it one day.

And when you’ve built up a reputation over making everyone miserable, who’s gonna wanna remember you?

In a show that’s clearly all about building relationships, Jax’s destructive behavior is really gonna cost him.

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl [10]

Part Ten | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Warnings: Shane Walsh is the worst, angst, canon violence, mentions of tobacco use, chapter follows “Tell it to the Frogs” but dialogue and events are paraphrased.

Word Count: 3K

Author’s Note: Me posting twice in a week? Unheard of. I've just been feeling very inspired for this story and this chapter just took on a life of it's own. I try to keep these chapter under 2,000 words, but this one is a tad longer. Hope you all enjoy! As always I would love to hear what y'all think.

After an eventful night around the campfire, you return to your empty tent. A part of you was thankful when Shane told the group that he was taking watch tonight, but another part of you recognizes that he’s simply trying to delay the inevitable. You’re just not sure you’re ready for that conversation right now. Not after the whiplash of emotions you experienced today: from the joy of one of your best friends returning from the dead to the devastation you felt for Daryl at the realization that Merle didn’t make it back from Atlanta. 

You had asked about the older Dixon’s absence during a lull in the conversation after you’d all finished dinner. Rick explained what had happened in Atlanta, and though you understood why he chose to handcuff Merle on the roof, your heart broke for Daryl. When you asked if they planned to return to the city for him, you were met by a scoff from Shane and a mumbled good riddance under his breath. His reaction made you sick to your stomach. You may not care for Merle Dixon, but Daryl does. And for all you know, he’s the only family that Daryl has left. 

The prolonged silence that ensued after your question was an answer in itself. They didn’t plan on going back for him. 

You lie down on your cot, sighing as you stare into the darkness above you. Your mind is still racing at the realization of Shane’s infidelity. You hadn’t gotten a chance to process the insinuation during the constant commotion this evening, but now that you were alone, it’s all you can think about. You roll over, closing your eyes and hoping that some sleep will give you a clearer perspective on your dilemma. But even though today took pretty much everything out of you, sleep never seemed further away. The idea of holding onto all of this alone is exhausting, but who are you supposed to talk to right now? Rick and Lori just got each other back. You barely know Glenn and Dale. And even though you’re friends with Andrea and Amy, anything told to the sisters tends to spread through the camp like wildfire. You wish Daryl was here. 

But then there’s your second problem. How do you explain to Daryl that the group left his brother in Atlanta? And how will he respond? Daryl’s just started opening up to you, and you’re depending on that budding friendship now more than ever. You’re afraid he will pull away from the group due to the betrayal. And you wouldn’t blame him — betrayal weighs heavy on your heart right now. 

You let out another sigh as you turn onto your back. You pull your thin blanket over your head, trying to physically block out the thoughts spiraling inside of your brain. In an attempt to calm yourself down, you pull Dale’s book out of your backpack and ignite your small flashlight. You open the book to where you left off, but instead of getting further into the novel, your eyes drift to the crumpled piece of paper acting as your placeholder. Finally, you drift off rereading Daryl’s hastily written note. 

When you wake, you’re met with rays of morning sunlight filtering through the flaps of your tent. You blink the grogginess out of your eyes. Even though you slept more than usual last night, your body feels like it didn’t get any rest. You gather your strength and manage to get off of your small cot, groaning as your feet connect with the ground. Hopefully, you’ll feel better once you busy yourself with something to do around camp. 

Exiting your tent, you’re met with a surprisingly empty camp. Your brow furrows as you sweep the area, but a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as your eyes land on Rick talking to Carol by the RV. Having Rick Grimes back in your life still feels like a dream. You make your way up to the pair, and Rick glances over your way. 

“You look as tired as I feel.”

Although his words are said in a humorous tone, his eyes hold a look of genuine concern. The small smile on your face grows a bit wider at the sight. Rick Grimes isn’t your blood, but you’ve considered him your family since you befriended Lori all those years ago.

“Just a restless night, I suppose.”

You attempt to brush off the concern nonchalantly. The last thing you want to do is worry Rick as he’s settling back in with his friends and family. But even though he lets out a warm chuckle at your response, the concern etched into his features doesn’t dissipate. Rick opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by a woman screaming. The two of you look toward where the sound is coming from, somewhere off in the surrounding woods, before looking back at each other with wide eyes.

“Lori…”

Without another word, the two of you race off into the woods with Carol not far behind. As you both get further into the forest, you begin to hear a medley of concerned voices. And finally, you find a small clearing with the entire group gathered around Sophia and Carl. Rick rushes over to his son, but your eyes are fixated on an inanimate walker lying beside a deer carcass. Your hand subconsciously lands on your hip and grabs the hilt of your hunting knife. Although it looks like some of the men handled the walker, you still have a sinking feeling in your stomach as your eyes rake over the jagged bite marks that trail down the deer’s neck. 

A rustling in the woods pulls your attention away from the carnage, and suddenly, everyone is on high alert. You watch as both Shane and Rick get in front of Lori and Carl, shielding them with their bodies as they draw their guns up toward the sound. Your tense shoulders relax, and a relieved sigh escapes your lips as Daryl appears from the dense forest brush. Everyone drops their weapons as Daryl raises his hands. Shane groans as he spots a handful of squirrels that Daryl has tied onto a rope in his left hand. Daryl glares at Shane for a second before his eyes land on the mangled deer lying on the forest floor.

“Son of a bitch!”

Daryl approaches the deer, angrily muttering about how he’d been tracking it for miles. He kicks the deer in frustration and drops to a knee to assess the damage the walker has done. 

“I was gonna drag it back to camp — cook us all up some venison. What do you think? Think we could cut around the chewed-up parts?”

Daryl’s proposal earns him several disgusted groans, and Shane responds. 

“I wouldn’t risk it, man.”

Daryl sighs disappointedly before standing up from the deer. He wipes off his hands on the front of his jeans. His eyes harden slightly as he looks over at Shane. 

“That’s a damn shame. Got some squirrel though — that’ll have to make due.”

From behind him, the walker begins groaning and Daryl rolls his eyes as multiple people cry out in horror. In one swift motion he swings his crossbow from behind his back and shoots the walker square between the eyes. Daryl’s eyes scan the small crowd that has gathered around all of the commotion. His posture relaxes ever-so-slightly as his eyes meet yours. He gives you a subtle nod — a small gesture you’ve grown accustomed to. Instead of nodding back, you drop your eyes to the ground. You’re not quite sure how to face him right now — overwhelmed by a mix of embarrassment over your current predicament with Shane and guilt that you didn’t go to Atlanta after learning about Merle. Realistically, you know that there’s no way that you could go on a lone rescue mission to the city to save Merle, but you still feel like you should have done something. 

Daryl’s brow furrows, and his heart clenches at your reaction. What happened while he was gone? Daryl looks around and suddenly realizes that everyone in camp is staring at him with a disheartened expression — everyone except Merle. His eyes quickly scan the group once more before he starts making his way toward their shared tent. Everyone moves to follow him. 

“Merle! Merle, where you at?”

You move to step forward. If anyone was going to break the news about his brother, it should be someone who cares about him. But before you can speak, Shane pushes you behind him and takes the lead.

“Daryl, just slow up a bit. We need to talk to you about Merle. There was a problem in Atlanta.”

Daryl chews on his bottom lip for a second before responding. 

“He dead?”

Your heart breaks as you watch Daryl’s expression drop.

“We’re not sure.”

Daryl’s face hardens at Shane’s answer. 

“He either is or he ain’t!”

Rick puts a hand on Shane’s shoulder before things get too heated between the two hot-headed men. As Daryl’s gaze shifts from Shane to Rick and his eyes narrow. 

“Who the hell are you?”

“Rick Grimes.”

Recognition flashes in Daryl’s eyes as the name immediately reminds him of the numerous stories you’ve told him about the man you consider a brother. His gaze flickers to you briefly before shifting back to Rick. For your sake, he pushes his anger aside for a moment and chooses to listen to Rick. You watch intently as Rick explains the events that happened in Atlanta. Daryl’s nostrils flare, and his grip tightens around the squirrels he’s holding. 

“You’re tellin’ me that you handcuffed my brother on top of a roof and left him there?”

“Yeah.”

And then all hell breaks loose. Daryl throws the bundle of squirrels at Rick, causing Shane to launch himself at Daryl. You rush forward as Shane tackles Daryl to the floor. You’re yelling at Shane — begging him to get off of Daryl. As you attempt to pull Shane off of him, Shane reaches back and pushes you off of him. Daryl yells as you hit the ground hard. Rick helps you up, and there’s a collective gasp as Daryl, who has managed to get out of Shane’s hold, pulls out his hunting knife. 

“Stop it!”

You step in between the two men — back to Shane. Daryl’s chest heaves from the physical activity, and his eyes don’t leave the man behind you. 

“Daryl.”

Finally, his eyes meet yours, and his face softens ever-so-slightly. He sighs before dropping the knife. You nod at him approvingly before turning to look at Shane. Although Daryl seems to have settled down, Shane is still fuming. His gaze is like daggers as he continues to stare at Daryl. T-Dog steps forward to diffuse the situation. 

“I dropped the key, but I locked the door. Nothing should be able to get in there — we just have to go back.”

You hear Daryl grunt from behind you. As you turn to face him, he’s chewing on his bottom lip again. You can practically see the gears turning his head. 

“Just tell me where he is so I can go get him.”

“I’ll go back with you.”

Lori clenches her jaw at Rick’s words, obviously upset by her husband’s decision. T-Dog nods at Rick’s words before stating he’ll join them. Shane mutters a string of expletives under his breath as Rick glances around the group. His eyes land on Glenn, and he shifts his feet nervously.

“Really, man?”

“You know the city better than anybody. It’d make me feel safer knowing you’re there with me.”

Glenn hesitates for a moment before nodding. Rick gives him a small smile, and Shane lets out an exasperated sigh.

“So that’s your big plan, man? You, T-Dog, Glenn, and Daryl?”

“And me.”

Suddenly, everyone’s eyes land on you. Shane’s expression hardens as his eyes meet yours. His gaze is ice cold, but you don’t back down. 

“The hell you are!”

“I’m going, Shane.”

Shane huffs before taking several steps toward you.

“Are you outta your goddamn mind? This is Merle Dixon we’re talking about.”

You glance back over your shoulder at Daryl who is nervously shifting from one foot to the other. He’s watching the interaction attentively. Just like always, he’s prepared to step in if Shane loses his cool.

“He’s still human, Shane. He deserves better than to die handcuffed on top of a roof like a rabid animal.”

Shane’s expression tightens as his gaze briefly shifts between you and Daryl. His gaze eventually focuses back on you and his eyes narrow. 

“You’re really gonna do this for him?”

He juts his chin towards Daryl, and you let out a dry laugh due to the absurdity of this conversation. Everyone’s watching the stand-off between you and Shane intently — you’d be embarrassed by the attention if you weren’t so angry. 

“This doesn’t have anything to do with him, alright? It’s about doing the right thing.”

Shane takes another menacing step forward. You know what he’s doing — he’s trying to intimidate you into submission, but you’re done with this. He squares his shoulders as he towers over you, but instead of cowering, you stand your ground.

“That’s bullshit. If you leave with them, we’re done.”

His voice is seething. He’s desperately trying to regain control of the situation — the ultimatum is proof of that.

“We’ve been done, Shane.”

You turn to leave the conversation, but Shane reaches out and grabs your wrist. The grip he has on you is bone-breaking, and you let out a surprised yelp as he pulls you back towards him. Immediately, Daryl springs into action. A low, threatening growl rumbles in his throat as he moves toward you.

“Don’t fucking touch her.”

Shane’s grip tightens at Daryl’s warning. You squirm due to the pain shooting up your arm. You desperately try to wriggle out of Shane’s grasp, but it’s too tight.

“Stay out of this. She isn’t yours.”

“Are you deaf? She ain’t yours either.”

Before Shane can react, Rick grabs his shoulder. He looks at you and Shane with wide eyes, obviously confused about what has happened between you both during his absence.

“Brother, what are you doing?”

Finally, Shane releases his grip, and you immediately backstep away from him. Daryl places a gentle hand on your shoulder and moves you further away from Shane. Rick’s brow furrows in confusion as he watches Daryl precautiously step in front of you. He’s obviously missing something here. The last time he saw you both — before the accident, before the coma — you were laughing with each other during dinner at Rick and Lori’s. He remembers your joy. But now you’re looking at his best friend with nothing but discontent. And Daryl, the man that Shane warned Rick about last night, is the one protecting you from a man you shouldn’t fear. Rick shakes his head before addressing the rest of the group. 

“Alright everyone, the show’s over. Let’s all cool off for a bit, okay?”

The group begins to wander off in different directions. But Daryl and Shane continue to stare each other down until Rick grabs Shane’s shoulder again.

“Shane, let’s go.”

It sounds more like a warning than a suggestion. Finally, Shane tears his eyes away from Daryl and stomps into camp. Rick gives you one last apologetic look before following after his best friend. You let out a sigh of relief and let your shoulders drop as the tense encounter finally ends. Daryl turns to face you, and his eyes immediately drop to your wrist, which is already beginning to bruise.

“You ‘lright?”

You nod wordlessly, still overwhelmed by everything that just happened. Daryl moves you back toward a fallen log to sit you down before he cautiously grabs your wrist. You’re so far away right now you don’t even respond to the touch. He drops down on one knee and gently assesses the damage that Shane caused, making sure nothing’s broken. Once Daryl is content with his assessment, he meets your eyes. His expression is brimming with worry as he searches your face. 

“You sure you’re ‘lright?”

Finally, you meet his eyes, and Daryl’s heart breaks at the sight of your broken appearance. He’s overwhelmed by his need to protect you — a feeling that’s becoming increasingly common for him as he spends more time with you. This time, you simply shake your head. Honestly, you have no idea what you feel right now. 

Daryl nods and takes a seat beside you. He feels like a fucking idiot. He never should have left you here for so long — not after everything you told him about Shane, everything he’s observed over the weeks you’ve spent in camp together. Before he can kick himself further, you speak again.

“It’s over, right?”

Daryl looks at you softly and nods.

“It’s over.”

“But he’s still…”

“You ain’t gotta worry about him anymore. I promise you, I ain’t gonna let him do anything to you. Not anymore.”

You’re overwhelmed by the sincerity in his tone and the devotion in his eyes. He promises to protect you like he’s taking an oath. And for the first time since he left on his hunting trip, you feel safe. You nod, honestly believing that Daryl would put himself in harms way for your own well-being. Hell, he already did. You lean back against the fallen log and Daryl reaches into his pocket before wordlessly offering you a cigarette. A warm laugh bubbles in your chest at the gesture and Daryl wishes he could record the sound. You take the cigarette and give him a small smile.

“You’re a bad influence, Dixon.”

A smirk pulls at the corner of Daryl’s lips as he hands you a lighter. You take it graciously and Daryl watches you light the cigarette between your lips. You hand the lighter back to him before taking a long drag.

Goddamn.

He always thought those cowboy killers would kill one day — but he was wrong. You’re going to be the death of him and he’s okay with that. Because he can’t think of a more wonderful way to go.

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[sirhamburrger]

wins and losses (t. kageyama x f!reader)

in which two wins for him are two wins for you, and a loss for him is also a win for both of you. wc: 1.4k || tags/cw: pre- and post-timeskip reader and kageyama, reader went to kitagawa daiichi and was manager for seijoh vbc, reader is lowkey (highkey) pining over him, msby 4 are the best (worst?) wingmen a/n: "happy birthday i guess... it-it's not like i like you or anything!" (you must know i visibly cringed at that) happy womb eviction date my sweet sweet tobio <3 you are my second favourite dark-haired shonen manga deuteragonist whose birthday falls on dec 22nd :)

when you entered high school as a first-year, you joined the volleyball club as a manager for the boys’ team. for the most part, it was so you could see some familiar faces from kitagawa daiichi - your old classmates kindaichi and kunimi were playing for seijoh now, and so were your upperclassmen oikawa and iwaizumi. 

it was - and still is - a busy job, taking care of about twenty teenage boys who more than not got fired up over the littlest things (or in kunimi’s case, not fired up at all). still, it was fun and rewarding, and makki and mattsun practically became your older brothers after a while. 

but there’s no denying that when you walked into the gym for the first practice session of the school year, you were looking out for one person from the kitagawa daiichi boys’ volleyball team in particular -

tobio kageyama, your ex-classmate and longtime crush.

back in middle school, you’d walk past the gym during lunch break, and he’d looked so cool as he set the ball for his teammates. your friends used to tease you about it, even going so far as to try and set you two up. luckily, you stopped them before they could do anything. suffice it to say he probably didn’t know of your existence at all. you were determined to change that in high school.

but he wasn’t there that day, or any day after that. 

you asked oikawa about it once, and he simply smiled sweetly and said he was glad dear ol’ kageyama hadn’t taken up the offer to come to seijoh - kindaichi and kunimi shared his sentiments. iwaizumi only sighed and looked over at oikawa. 

“it’s probably for kageyama’s own good,” he’d said, not elaborating on his words. 

and you see what he means now, even as karasuno wins their match against seijoh in the 2015 spring interhigh qualifiers. your players are devastated, and rightfully so. they’ve lost to karasuno countless times over the years, and this only seems to be salt rubbed into their gaping wound. 

ex-captains oikawa and yahaba facetime your phone after the game, hoping to say hello to a post-victory team, but their faces fall when they hear the news. you leave the team huddled around your tiny phone courtside, excusing yourself to go to the bathroom.

you lean back against the cold wall of the hallway. karasuno’s going to nationals, and maybe you should feel bitter about it. 

but somehow, all you can seem to think is - kageyama’s going to nationals.

***

not even a year later, when you've already graduated and gone to university, you see him on television representing japan in mens’ volleyball at the olympics. because that's what he is now - a man. so different from the quiet middle schooler or the intense-looking high schooler he once was.

he looks good - better - now. broader. stronger. taller. carries himself with a newfound confidence. he is a machine in action; his form is perfect as he serves the ball. it flies across his teammates’ heads, over the net, and slams itself into an open space on the court.

“aaaaand… number 20, tobio kageyama, again with his no-touch service ace! he’s practically unstoppable!”

the crowd goes absolutely wild for him, and he only nods slightly at his teammates’ praises, humble as usual.

sakusa snorts from beside you on the sofa, and bokuto just laughs. 

“what?” you mumble, only half-listening out to what he’s about to say.

“you’re practically salivating over the guy, y’know,” the itachiyama graduate deadpans. “i’m glad he didn’t come to our uni or you’d practically be following him around like a lovesick puppy.”

“i-”

japan wins the match that day. of course, kageyama is all over the news after that; labelled a genius setter straight out of a newly-revitalised powerhouse high school, and already competing on the world stage. your chest tightens when you see the post-match interviews.

kageyama sits there, his face calm and composed, as reporters throw question after question at him. he answers them with the same quiet determination you remember, though his voice has deepened, more self-assured now.

you feel a strange mix of pride and yearning. it’s ridiculous, really. you haven’t spoken to him in years - if ever - and yet you can’t help but feel connected to his success. like a win for him is also a win for you

later that evening, sakusa teases you again as you scroll through your phone, looking at photos from the match.

��just send him a dm already,” he mutters, leaning his head against the back of the couch.

you blink a couple of times, considering the suggestion. but you quickly put it out of your mind.

“yeah. as if he’d even remember me.”

sakusa raises an eyebrow but says nothing more, leaving you to stew in your thoughts.

***

you’re there for sakusa’s big match - the msby jackals vs the schweiden adlers. it’s one of the most anticipated major league games of the whole season. mainly you’re going to support sakusa and his teammates like the good friend that you are.

… and kageyama being there doesn’t hurt either.

the jackals win. it’s strange seeing kageyama on the losing end, when he’s caused so much grief to seijoh in prefectural qualifiers, when he’s played against the world’s best in a foreign  country. still, he goes to congratulate the other team for a game well-played, and then joins his team’s group huddle, smiling softly.

he’s got a kind of fire in him that warms your heart too.

it makes you think, in a moment of insanity, that maybe you should go and talk to him. reconnect. after all, he’s someone you think you’d life to have in your life.

but you won’t. he’s in a league of his own, and out of yours.

you focus instead on the jackals’ celebratory cheers, and cheer along with the other fans. bokuto has somehow managed to lift a protesting sakusa onto his shoulders, and atsumu and hinata… are nowhere to be found. that’s strange, considering they’re the ones who get the metaphorical victory lap up and running.

“- yeah, right this way, tobio-kun, she’s waiting for you up in the stands -”

“hurry up, bakayama, it’s rude to keep a girl waiting!”

with a jolt, you whip your head around, and you can’t tell if this is your lifelong dream or your worst nightmare come to life, but - 

it’s tobio kageyama, standing in front of you. flanked by two very pleased-looking msby black jackals members.

“thank us when you’re married and living in the suburbs with two beautiful kids!” atsumu yells, already fleeing the scene with a giggling hinata.

you turn to face kageyama, wishing you could disappear from under his piercing gaze.

“uh, hi. sorry about them - they’re just messing with you. you probably don’t remember me, so -” you turn to leave. “i’ll just… go. great match, by the way! you did amazing.”

but he stops you, strong hand encircling your wrist, and you think you’re going to combust on the spot. he quickly removes his hand - though the tingling sensation remains, still - and scratches his head, averting his eyes. 

you stare up at him, and find he’s even more beautiful up close.

“i remember you,” he says finally, his hand coming down to rest by his thigh. “from middle school. we were classmates.”

“yeah,” you murmur, more than a little surprised. “i saw you training in the gym a lot.”

“and you became aoba johsai’s manager, too. you were a good manager to them,” he says plainly. 

it makes you smile. “thanks. i watched your olympic matches, and you absolutely killed it.”

he looks confused for a second. “i don’t remember killing anyone -”

“it’s a, uh. figure of speech,” you explain quickly. “what i mean to say is, you were - are! - really, really good. you’ve come a long way.”

he says your name then, and you find you like the way it sounds on his tongue, even if you didn’t know he knew it. "i'm sorry. i never had the courage to say anything to you back in middle school or high school. i was worried you might not even know who i was."

"are you kidding?" you laugh. "you're tobio kageyama."

he flushes slightly in a way you think is really, really cute.

"so... how do you feel about getting some coffee after this? i'll pack my stuff up, take a quick shower."

he might be a grown man now, but underneath lies the same nervous middle schooler you once knew. you're nervous too, and it makes you want to take you up on his offer.

and so you do.

you smile over at his departing form, and feel a familiar stirring sensation - the one that comes with a win.

haikyuu masterlist || general masterlist

© sirhamburrger 2024

[soapcloth]

Fantasy au -> Warrior!Soap x Healer!Reader

CW: 18+ MDNI, light bloodplay, noncon undertones, dacryphilia if you squint

not edited - 800 words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

You’ve had just about enough of that axe-swinging asshole, built like an ox and thrice as stubborn.

You’re absolutely beside yourself asking why you’re sticking it out in his half-baked party. John, as he had practically breathed the name down your neck, couldn’t keep a decent healer and now you know all too well why. He was mean, smelly, loud, and worst of all- overly familiar despite your best efforts to stamp out any flame of acquaintanceship. You could write ballads dedicated to reasons you should leave this party, but truth be told? You were down on your luck. You wondered sometimes if you were cursed with misfortune, a hilariously horrid timeline of events leading you to this very position right now. So you’ve made a few mistakes, hasn’t everyone in the pursuit of dungeon crawling?

Even so, was the state of your freelance healing career really so bad that you had to saddle up with someone like John MacTavish? The man had been naught more than a trail thief brute-forcing his way into other parties’ treasure a few years ago, but because of a few lucky encounters in monster slaying, suddenly he was picking up jobs in adventurer hubs like it was something he was born to do. It pissed you off to no end and he knew it. Loved seeing your indignant scowl while you healed him up knowing better work was near impossible for you to come by.

“Och- that’s it, ‘m sore there.” He’d groaned, humid breath fanning your skin, god, why was he always so close? “Gonna show me that pretty glow, lamb?”

“No.” You bit, rubbing the salve a touch deeper than needed. Your lips twitched seeing his eyebrows draw tight. “It’s not so bad that you need healing, stop being a baby.”

The man snorted in response. “That’s why no other parties’ll take ye on, lamb.” His deep blue eyes searched your own, a wild smirk twisting across his mouth. “Terrible bedside manner.” You flushed slightly, shooting him a sharp glare that caused him to lean back on his makeshift fallen and rotted log seat with a pleased grin as he inspected his wound. Like the ever-expressive man he was, his face suddenly took on a shade of concern. “Ach-!”

“Huh?” Was all you could muster, confused as to what he could be so worried about.

“Think I got nicked by something venomous, lamb, need yer healing.” He seethed out. “Oh for- let me see.” You sighed, grabbing his uselessly huge hand. As expected, his palm was fine, albeit still a bit bloody as the salve worked to stop it.

Wrong move.

Upon inspecting his wound, the adventurer managed to shove his palm into your face with a vicious grin, huffing through his nose a bit as he smeared blood across your mouth. Sputtering only invited the acrid taste of bitter salve, sweat, and copper onto your tastebuds as he laughed and continued to wipe his hand across your face. “See?” He chuckled “M’still hurt.” His eyes seemed to glisten like the northern stormy coast seeing his own blood on your skin. “Suits you.”

You pushed his hand away, misinterpreting his words in a way that scratched at a sore spot of your own. “I didn’t kill them, John! Stop holding that over my head!” You snarled, causing his eyes to widen a fraction. You wiped his blood off your face with your arm, only to smear it around more and get it on the limb. Great. It was then you realized you had a runny nose as well, were you starting to cry? “I fucked up- but my god, they lived, okay?” And now you couldn’t get a gig better than this one because of that fact, a voice in the back of your head snarked. It’s true too, they made sure no party worth its salt would ever take you on. You still have no idea why John did either in all honesty, for all his faults and the high turnover rate, he had a seemingly bottomless fount of healers willing to take a shot at being the one to stick.

John cupped your cheeks. “None of tha’.” He spoke lowly. One of his calloused thumbs swiped at an emerging tear before it could fall and you had to watch, mouth slightly agape as he brought the pad of his thumb to his lips without much thought, tongue darting out to taste. You blinked as he clapped that hand down on your shoulder, leaning closer. “None of tha’…” he repeated, quieter this time. He looked so focused. “Dinnae give a shit about those no-names, lamb, neither should you.”

You swallowed audibly when met with his intensity, his voice a rolling growl. “Fuck- seeing ye all covered in my blood’s got me stiffer than a rock. Palm’s busted and you won’t heal me. Cannae do a thing about it, feel like ah’m gonna-“

“I can heal your hand.” You urged, the oppressive haze he left you with suddenly lifting.

He snorted in response. “Though so, lamb.” His palm connected with your hair, ruffling his blood into your locks before moving down to pat your cheek. “What a dutiful healer ye’ are… So good te’ me. Let me see tha’ gorgeous glow.”

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 11: A Night At The Center

Logan invites his roommates to a special event at the center. It's Y/N's first time meeting his colleagues and let's say they see right through whatever they got going on.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W.

A/N: hellooo! as you can see, we are currently in my active era. here's the third chapter of the week and I kinda LOVE it because I just adore including every character ever (as I've done with Y/n's colleagues a few chapters ago—and don't worry they will come back). Laura and Marie 🫂🫂 hope you like this one!! there might be a bit too much dialogue but I love to talk so that's what you'll get unfortunately. see you on Christmas for the next chapter!! enjoy🫶

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part

The hall buzzed with energy, the sound of conversations and faint music filling the space as Logan led the way. Y/N walked beside him, her gaze flickering around the room to take in the lively atmosphere. Wade, however, was already making himself at home, spotting a familiar face across the room.

“Wilson!” called a man with red glasses, all the way across the hall.

“Summers!” Wade shouted, grinning as he jogged over to join him and a man in a wheelchair.

Y/N chuckled at Wade’s enthusiasm. “He seems to know his way around here.”

Logan gave a low grunt. “Yeah, he’s been to a few of these. Can’t say he blends in, though.”

They continued deeper into the room, weaving through clusters of people until they approached a small group at the center. A woman with striking white hair turned toward them, her warm smile lighting up her features. “Logan!” she greeted, her eyes flicking to Y/N with curiosity sparking in their depths.

“This is Y/N,” Logan introduced, his tone carrying its usual gruffness. “She’s my roommate.”

Ororo’s lips quirked in amusement as she extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard a bit about you.”

“Only good things, I hope?” Y/N replied, shaking her hand, the corners of her mouth lifting in a playful smile.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard one bad thing about you coming from him,” Ororo teased, casting a sly glance at Logan, who was now scowling faintly.

Y/N’s brow arched in surprise as her gaze shifted to Logan, but before she could say anything, another man joined the group. His solid frame and thoughtful expression gave him an almost scholarly air. “Hank,” he introduced himself, offering Y/N a firm handshake. “So, you’re the one keeping these two in check?”

Y/N laughed, shaking his hand. “That’s me. It’s nice to meet you.”

“She’s in charge of Logan and Wade? Poor thing,” Ororo quipped, earning a chuckle from Hank.

“Hey,” Logan muttered, crossing his arms, though a ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The conversation flowed easily, Ororo and Hank quickly making Y/N feel at home. Logan contributed in his typical fashion, his dry humor earning a few laughs.

“Logan always says we’re the worst,” Hank remarked, mock-seriousness lacing his tone. “But I think we’re growing on him.”

“Like fungus,” Logan deadpanned, and the group burst into laughter.

“Logan, be nice,” a new voice interjected, smooth and teasing. A woman with vibrant red hair approached, her green eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Jean,” Logan greeted, his tone softening just slightly.

Jean turned her sharp gaze on Y/N, her smile kind but shrewd, as though she were already peeling back layers. “You must be Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Jean, Scott’s wife.”

Y/N returned the smile warmly, shaking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Jean’s eyes flicked briefly between Logan and Y/N. She caught the way Logan’s stance subtly shifted closer to Y/N, his arm almost brushing hers, and the way his gaze occasionally darted to her when he thought no one was looking. It was telling, though Logan himself seemed oblivious. Jean didn’t comment, simply storing the observation away with a knowing smile.

“So,” Jean asked, “how are you finding all of this? It’s a bit different from Logan’s usual environment.”

“It’s great,” Y/N replied. “It’s nice to see his world outside the apartment. I didn’t realize how much he does here.”

Jean’s smile widened. “He won’t admit it, but he’s an important part of this place. The students adore him.”

“Jean,” Logan muttered, his voice holding a warning edge.

“It’s true,” she countered lightly, raising her hands in mock surrender. “You’re their favorite.”

Logan huffed, clearly eager to move the conversation along, but Y/N’s quiet laugh drew his attention. She seemed genuinely charmed by the new perspective on him, and that realization left him slightly off-kilter.

The group eventually dispersed, Jean excusing herself with a meaningful glance at Logan. “It was lovely meeting you, Y/N. I hope we see more of you around here.”

“Likewise,” Y/N replied, her smile lingering as Jean walked away.

Logan leaned against a nearby wall, his gaze scanning the room. Y/N approached with a drink in hand, her expression soft and thoughtful.

“Ororo and Hank are already plotting to steal you away,” Logan remarked, his voice laced with dry humor.

Y/N laughed lightly, shaking her head. “I doubt that. Hank has incredible stories, and Ororo’s so kind. I can see why you like working with them.”

Logan shrugged, his gaze sliding to the side. “They’re alright.”

Before Y/N could respond, a pair of younger figures appeared nearby, carrying plates of snacks. Marie’s confidence was apparent as she grinned at Y/N, while Laura lingered slightly behind, her shyness evident in the way she held her plate.

“Mr. Howlett,” Marie began, mischief glinting in her eyes, “are you gonna introduce us, or do we have to guess who she is?”

Logan sighed, his arms crossing. “This is Y/N. She’s my roommate. Like Wade.”

Y/N smiled warmly at the girls. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

Marie stepped forward eagerly, shaking Y/N’s hand. “I’m Marie. And this is Laura,” she said, nudging the quieter girl forward.

Laura hesitated before offering a small, tentative smile. “Hi.”

“It’s great to meet you, Laura,” Y/N said, her voice kind and patient. “I’ve heard so much about both of you.”

Marie’s brows lifted. “Really? Mr. Howlett talks about us?”

Y/N chuckled, glancing at Logan, whose scowl had deepened. “Of course, he does.”

Logan grunted. “To complain.”

Marie laughed as Laura hid a small smile behind her plate.

Y/N turned her focus to Laura, her voice gentle. “Do you like it here at the center?”

Laura nodded, her tone soft but assured. “Yeah. It’s… different. In a good way.”

Marie grinned. “She’s the best here. Everyone loves her.”

Laura’s cheeks flushed, and she glanced down shyly. Y/N’s gaze softened. “I can see why,” she said, her sincerity shining through.

Marie leaned forward with mock seriousness. “But seriously, what’s it like living with Mr. Howlett? Does he secretly collect stamps or—”

“Alright,” Logan interrupted, his voice firm. “That’s enough.”

As the girls moved away, Laura offered a quiet, “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too,” Y/N replied, her smile lingering. She turned to Logan, catching the faintest warmth in his expression before he masked it.

“You’re good with them,” Logan murmured, his tone gruff but genuine.

Y/N met his gaze, her voice soft. “And so are you.”

Logan didn’t respond, but her words settled somewhere deep, leaving him feeling unsteady yet strangely content. He shifted his weight, trying to ignore the way her smile seemed to light up the room. He found himself studying her profile, trying not to dwell on the warmth spreading through his chest. 

He was so screwed.

———

Meanwhile, as Jean walked away, she headed straight for the corner where Scott, Charles, and Wade were deep in conversation. Her knowing smile returned when she saw Wade animatedly gesturing while Scott and Charles laughed.

“Oh, Jean!” Wade exclaimed dramatically, spotting her arrival. “Perfect timing, as always. We were just discussing the hot gossip of the night.”

Jean folded her arms, her eyebrow lifting in curiosity. “And what scandalous topic could possibly have you this excited?”

Wade leaned closer, his grin almost conspiratorial as he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward Logan. “Someone over there is completely smitten with his roommate. It’s practically Shakespearean.”

Jean blinked, her lips twitching with amusement as she glanced toward Logan and Y/N, who were chatting with Ororo and Hank. “Is that so?” she asked casually, though her tone carried just enough intrigue to stoke Wade’s enthusiasm.

Scott nodded, an amused glint in his eye. “You saw the way he looked at her, right?”

“I did,” Jean admitted, her gaze lingering on Logan. There was something undeniably different about him tonight. His usual guarded demeanor was still present, but there was a subtle shift in how he stood—just a bit closer to Y/N, as though unconsciously tethered to her. “And I think you’re absolutely right.”

Charles chuckled softly, his voice cutting through their banter. “Logan doesn’t exactly wear his heart on his sleeve, but even he isn’t immune to certain… connections.”

Wade clapped his hands together. “See? It’s not just me! The whole room can feel it.”

Jean shook her head, a laugh escaping her. “You’re incorrigible, Wade.”

Before anyone could add more fuel to the fire, a heavy presence approached the group. Logan’s steps were deliberate, his expression unreadable, though the subtle clench of his jaw hinted at his growing irritation. His gaze swept over them, narrowing when he caught Wade’s exaggerated grin.

“Logan,” Charles greeted smoothly, his voice carrying a note of mischief. “What impeccable timing. We were just talking about you.”

Logan stopped, crossing his arms over his chest. “Of course, you were.” His dry tone earned a chuckle from Scott and Wade, but his attention was locked firmly on the latter.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Wade said innocently, holding up his hands as though warding off a scolding. “We were being very complimentary. For example, Scott here thinks you’re incredibly dedicated to your job. A real paragon of professionalism.”

Scott rolled his eyes, struggling to keep a straight face. “That’s not exactly what I said.”

“And Charles,” Wade continued without missing a beat, pointing dramatically at the man in the wheelchair, “he was just saying how wonderful it is that you brought your delightful roommate tonight. What was it again? A breath of fresh air?”

Charles coughed lightly, though the corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement. “Something along those lines.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed further. “Wade,” he warned, his voice low, “don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m just warming up!” Wade said, throwing an arm around Logan’s shoulders. Logan immediately shrugged him off, but Wade pressed on. “We’re all just so happy to see you finally… loosening up. And let’s be honest: bringing someone who’s not only smart and talented but also cute? Bold move, my friend. I’m impressed.”

“She’s your roommate too, remember?” Logan said, his eyes throwing daggers at the man in front of him.

“Is he wrong, though?” Scott asked with a grin. “Honestly, Logan, it’s like watching a rom-com in real life.”

“Fuck off,” Logan grumbled, which only made his companions laugh harder.

Charles finally intervened, holding up a hand to restore some semblance of order. “Alright, let’s not torment him too much. After all, Y/N might not appreciate us meddling in her life.”

“Oh, she’d love it,” Wade said confidently. “She’s got a great sense of humor. Unlike some people here.” He jabbed Logan in the ribs, earning another withering glare.

“Wade,” Logan growled, his patience wearing thin.

“Fine, fine,” Wade relented, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll stop. For now. But just so you know, I’m totally bringing this up later. We’re gonna have a great time.”

Logan sighed heavily, grabbing a drink from the table and muttering, “Not if I kill you first.”

As he turned to leave, Jean, who had been quietly observing, stepped closer. Her expression was a mix of amusement and sympathy as she addressed Logan. “I hate to say it, but I think you walked right into that one.”

Logan groaned, taking a long sip of his drink. “You’re all the worst.”

“Maybe,” Jean said lightly, her smile softening. “But we’re not wrong.”

Logan didn’t respond, instead fixing his attention on the drink in his hand. He didn’t need to look back to know the others were still grinning behind him. And as much as he hated to admit it, they weren’t entirely off base.

From across the room, his gaze landed on Y/N again, who was laughing at something Ororo had said. Her ease, her warmth—it was like a magnet, pulling him in whether he wanted it or not. For the first time in a long while, Logan felt like maybe—just maybe—letting his guard down wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

———

The evening was lively, the room filled with a hum of voices and laughter that seemed to echo the warmth of the event. Y/N stood near the refreshment table, drink in hand as she admired the space. Decorations hung with care, and every detail seemed to speak of the dedication behind the event. It was impossible not to feel the heart of the center here.

She was lost in thought, taking in the scene, when Charles approached.

“Y/N,” he greeted, his tone as composed as ever. “I hope the evening has been enjoyable for you.”

She turned toward him, a genuine smile breaking across her face. “It really has. Everyone’s been so kind and welcoming. And it’s amazing seeing how much this place means to so many people.”

Charles inclined his head slightly, the corners of his lips tugging into a faint smile. “It’s always a pleasure to see new faces here, particularly those who seem to appreciate what we’re striving for. Logan doesn’t often bring guests, so it’s nice to see you and Wade join us tonight.”

“Logan mentioned you’re a teacher?” He asked.

“Yes,” she replied, setting her glass down on the table. “I teach literature and creative writing at the high school level. It’s not always easy, but I love it.”

“I can tell,” Charles remarked, his gaze steady. “Your passion is evident. It’s a rare quality, and one that makes all the difference in this line of work.”

Y/N found herself smiling at the compliment, though she quickly redirected the conversation. “And what about you? How did you start this center?”

Charles’s expression softened, his gaze momentarily distant. “I founded the center with a dear friend of mine with whom I parted ways. It was born out of a simple yet profound need. I wanted to create a place where children who often felt out of place or overlooked could find support and a sense of belonging. Logan joined us not long after we opened in this building. He’s been an integral part of our work here.”

Y/N glanced across the room to where Logan stood, his posture relaxed but his attention fully on the students around him. His face, often guarded and unreadable, seemed to soften as he listened to them speak.

“He seems to really care about them,” she said, her voice quieter now.

Charles followed her gaze, his expression growing more thoughtful. “He does. More than he’d ever admit, even to himself.”

There was a pause, and Y/N sensed the shift in Charles’s demeanor. The weight of something unspoken lingered in the air between them.

“What is it?” she asked gently, her brows knitting together in concern.

Charles hesitated, then let out a soft sigh. “The center is struggling financially,” he admitted, lowering his voice to ensure no one else could overhear. “We’ve been trying to secure funding, but time is running out. If things don’t change soon, we may have to close before the end of the year.”

The words hit Y/N like a stone sinking in her chest. “That’s terrible,” she said, her voice laced with sympathy. “Does anyone else know?”

“Only Logan,” Charles said, his tone heavy with quiet resignation. “He’s been doing what he can to help, but there’s only so much one person can do. The rest of the staff and students will have to be informed soon, and it’s likely we’ll begin the process of finding alternative arrangements for the children.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered back to Logan, now leaning slightly against a table as Rogue and Laura animatedly chatted with him. Despite the lighthearted moment, she could sense an undercurrent of tension in his frame.

“How is he handling it?” she asked softly.

“Logan is resilient,” Charles said with a small, weary smile. “But losing this place will be… difficult for him. He’s put so much of himself into these kids, this community. It’s become a part of who he is.”

Y/N’s heart ached at the thought of Logan bearing the weight of this struggle alone. “Why hasn’t he told anyone else?”

“Logan doesn’t like burdening others,” Charles replied simply. “It’s one of his strengths, and also one of his greatest flaws.”

Charles’s gaze settled on her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he added, “If I may, Y/N, I’d ask a favor of you. Don’t tell Logan I’ve shared this with you— he wouldn’t take kindly to it. But if you can, keep an eye on him. He may need support, even if he’s too stubborn to ask for it.”

Y/N nodded, the weight of his request settling heavily on her shoulders. “I will. Thank you for telling me, Charles.”

He offered her a faint but genuine smile. “It’s clear you care about him, even if he may not realize it himself.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush but chose not to respond. Instead, she said, “If there’s anything else I can do to help, please let me know.”

Charles inclined his head in thanks before excusing himself to mingle with others. Y/N stayed rooted to the spot, her mind racing with what she’d just learned. Across the room, Logan caught her eye briefly before turning his attention back to the students. She could see now, more clearly than ever, just how much the center meant to him—and just how hard it would be for him to lose it.

———

The night was winding down, the lively chatter from earlier fading into a quieter hum as guests began to leave. Near the exit, Y/N stood with Charles, finishing their earlier conversation about the ups and downs of teaching. Despite the challenges he described, Charles spoke with such calm and optimism that Y/N couldn’t help but admire him. She found herself wanting to help somehow, even if she wasn’t sure how just yet.

Their conversation was interrupted by Wade and Logan approaching, Wade holding up an empty cup like it was a prize. “Alright, team,” he said with his usual flair. “We’re heading out. Charles, as always, it’s been a pleasure.”

Charles chuckled and nodded. “Likewise,” he replied, turning back to Y/N with a warm smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N. I hope we cross paths again soon.”

“You too,” Y/N said sincerely. “And thank you for tonight.”

Logan gave Charles a short nod, his typical way of saying goodbye, before the three headed toward the door. They’d just stepped into the hallway when a voice called out.

“Wait!”

They turned to see Laura running toward them, weaving between the few lingering guests. She skidded to a stop in front of Logan, who crouched slightly to meet her.

“What’s up, kid?” he asked, his voice softening in a way that surprised Y/N.

Laura leaned in and cupped her hands around his ear, whispering something only he could hear. Logan’s brow furrowed slightly, then smoothed out, his expression hard to read. He glanced toward the room, where Y/N noticed a group of kids, including Marie, watching from a distance, giggling and whispering.

Logan straightened, clearing his throat. “Alright, I’ll see you Monday,” he said, his tone gruff but kind.

Laura grinned at him, then turned to wave at Y/N and Wade before darting back into the room.

“What was that about?” Wade asked, raising an eyebrow.

Logan shrugged, his face back to its usual neutral expression. “Just kid stuff.”

“Kid stuff?” Wade echoed. “Yeah, sure. Looked more like ‘getting-red-in-the-face’ stuff to me.”

“I wasn’t,” Logan muttered, already walking toward the exit.

“You totally were!” Wade laughed, catching up to him. “Come on, spill it. What’d she say?”

“Nope.”

Y/N, walking beside Logan, smiled. “You’re being suspicious. Just tell us.”

“It’s a secret,” Logan said firmly, but there was the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Wade gasped dramatically. “A secret? Oh, now I have to know. Don’t think I’m letting this go.”

“Drop it, Wade,” Logan grumbled, quickening his pace.

“Never,” Wade shot back, practically bouncing with excitement as they stepped into the cool night air.

Y/N shook her head, laughing at their banter. As they walked home, she glanced at Logan and caught a rare softness in his expression. Whatever Laura had said, it had clearly stuck with him.

And though he didn’t say a word about it, her voice echoed in his mind: “You and Ms. Y/N look good together.”

[josgalaxy]

MY PERSONAL RANKING OF BALDUR'S GATE 3 COMPANIONS FROM WORST TO BEST (spoiler alert!!!)

Of course this is just my humble and personal opinion, let me know if you agree! Trigger warning, I have a lot to say:

11. The Emperor

I know he's not technically a companion, but let's be honest, he is with Tav since day one. Let's just say this one is a shady bitch. From the get go I didn't trust the Emperor, and going forward with the game my suspicions were confirmed. Not only he literally exploited everyone that could help him reach his goals, but he shows no true loyalty to anyone but to himself.

Proof that the Emperor is just a gaslighting bastard: 1. Lied to the whole party by changing his appearence to seem more trustworthy 2. Killed his dragon bestie Ansur that was just trying to find a cure for him. 3. Kept a Gith prince imprisoned to exploit his power and was willing to eat his brains out to get more powerful. 4. Tried to sleep with Tav and secure their trust (btw, a kinky bitch). 5. LITERALLY SIDED WITH THE BIG BAD NETHERBRAIN as soon as Tav was not okay being manipulated anymore (like babygirl, you spent the entire game telling me we had to kill that thing and now you're ending up siding with it? Excuse me??)

So, yes, The Emperor deserves to rot and I was very happy to fry that calamari.

10. Minsc (and Boo)

So, I haven't played bg2, so I don't have that kind of attachment to the old characters. I don't mind that he is juts this brainless hunk, and I like the fact that he carries a cute hamster with him. He kinda reminds me of Kronk, and I love Kronk so he gets a few points for that. But other than some muscles, dumb jokes, and Boo, what else is there?

Let's just say that he made me smile a couple of times, but I got bored of him (but not the hamster) almost instantly.

9. Jaheira

Same here folks, I appreciate Jaheira but I don't feel that attached to her as the rest of the companions (probably because of the fact that she and Minsc are introduced in the game quite late). I mean, you get this badass milf Elf (mother is mothering) that can turn into a panther and has a cute accent... how can you not like her? But do I find her as interesting as other chatacters in the game? Not really.

I would probably share a drink with the tho, to hear all the stories from back in her day.

8. Wyll

Before any of you come for me for putting The Blade of the Frontier this low, let me explain. I like Wyll, I like the fact that he is a dancer, he's romantic, and that his main goal is to help people. I mean, he made a pact with a literal devil to save his city! Don't get me wrong, I think I would be friends with him irl, but as for character growth and depth, I think he passes off to be more bland than the rest of the companions, probably for his too goody two shoes attitude.

Let's just say if he was a spice, he would be flour. Sorry.

7. Minthara

You see, a long time ago my first playthrough, when I met Minty, I seriously contemplated killing all the Tieflings just to be with her. This is just to let you have an idea of the hold this woman has on me. HAVE YOU SEEN HER? Apart from being a hottie, and incredibly useful in combat as a paladin, she is hilarious without even trying. When you see an [ ! ] over her head you know for a fact she is about to tell something UNHINGED. I'm gagging.

Anyway, just so you know I haven't sacrified the tieflings to recruit her. I'm not a monster. I simply knocked mommy out and found her in Moonrise Towers.

6. Lae'zel

I believe Giths and Drows are quite similar: they both crave violence and see any kind of kindness and compassion as weaknesses. But what makes Lae'zel a better character than Minthara, is the fact that she evolves from her prejudices and violence, while the drow doesn't. She starts off as this ruthless and closeminded character, but later on she learns to challenge authority and her tyrant, save her people, find compassion in others and fall in love.

I think her romance is one of the best ones in the game. It starts off as a simple one night stand where she tries to dominate you, pure physical, but then she starts to soften and open up to Tav. I mean the rooftop scene where she calls you Source of my Joy?? Sounds more like Bae'zel to me.

5. Gale of Waterdeep

To be honest, Gale is literally my type irl: a hot scruffy nerd whose ideal Saturday night is reading a book and drinking some wine in front of the fireplace. Also, he has a cat! He is a bit of yapper, I know, but I find him quite charming, even though he eats magical boots from time to time in order not to explode and kill everyone in the vicinity

I believe Gale had the potential to be a heart-throb, but the only thing that gave me the ick about him, was the fact that he is too obsessed with his ex! I get it, she is the goddess of magic, but that doesn't change the fact the she literally groomed him since he was a child. He was willing to go full Manhattan Project just to get her approval. You are cute magic man, but you need to get over your ex.

4. Halsin

May the Oakfather protect me. He is such a dreamboat. He is kind and forgiving with everyone, loves animal and nature - duh, is great with kids, and let's not forget he is absolutely gigantic (points for him). He even carves out a wooden duck for you at the end, so cute! I love the fact that he knows his boundaries and is particularly attentive to respect everyone, like when he flirts with Tav but will wait for them to speak with their partner in order to have an open relationship.

I know he may not have the same depth some other characters have, but who cares?? Teddy Bear over here is fine as he is. What can I say, I'm a sucker for big men that try to be gentle.

3. Shadowheart

Shar's favourite Princess is one of my favourite characters in the game. She starts off as being wary and skeptical about Tav, but she quickly opens up as soon as one shows her kindness. Which is heartbreaking since she led her life following the Lady of Loss, hence without any kindness or compassion. Her backstory is particulary well made, so that you can truly see her growth: from standoffish, she ends up being such a goofy and sweet character. From putting all her faith in a goddess that has literally taken everything from her, she then learns how to discover herself and prioritise her feelings for the first time. I love that for her.

She is quite frustraing sometimes since she keeps missing in combat, but we love our emo babygirl anyway.

2. Astarion

So, the only reason I didn't put Astarion in first place, is because I know for a fact that in real life I would LOATHE the man. But we're not irl, so his gaslighting and manipulative tricks are overshadowed by his witty answers, his flirtatious expressions and the incredible velvety voice of his (thanks Neil Newbon). And to think that I thought I had successfully avoided the Vampire phase... well, I hadn't met this diva right here.

His backstory is one of the most heartbreaking, and with the right choices, I believe he can grow more than any other companion, which is why he is such a fan favourite among the fans. He starts off as being a vain and manipulative twink, but as you get to know of his past and the horrible things he has been through, you realise he is simply a victim that doesn't know any better.

I just love his confession scene to Tav: "I had a nice, simple plan - seduce you and manipulate your feelings. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you... which is where my nice simple plan fell apart." EXCUSE ME?? WHAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUT??

1. Karlach

She's an icon, she's a legend, and she is the moment.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Karlach officially is the most likable companion of this messy rank. From the first moment you meet her, it's so difficult not to fall in love with this fireball of energy and kindness. Her backstory is probably the saddest of them all: a hopeful kid that gets betrayed and forced to live with a deadly engine that will one day burn her from the inside, like a tragic metaphor for an illness.

She is also smocking hot (and not just because she is literally burning), I mean, the tats, the muscles, the badass hair and half horn?? Child, she ate and left no crumbs. She is a total smokeshow, and despite her bubbly personality she is not afraid to be a bit sexy and flirtatious. Can we talk about the: "I wanna ride you 'till you see stars" YES MA'AM, PLEASE MA'AM.

But in spite of everything bad that has happened to her, Karlach is always smiley, loves her friends deeply and uses every moment to be a goofball and dance around. She is too pure for this world, which is why you feel that her horrible fate is particularly unfair to someone like Karlach. To be honest, her scene in the harbour after defeating the brain is heartbreaking.

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

So folks, here it is my personal ranking from least to most likable companions of Baldur's Gate 3.

Let me know what do you think!

[spyres]

bootleg pokemon advent calender review

so my mom got me this pokemon-themed advent calender filled with a bunch of bootleg figurines earlier this month and i opened the first door at the time but i completely forgot about it until now. so with it being christmas eve i thought it would be fun to go through each figurine for funsies because i'm utterly fascinated with what i got.

day one: muk

this was the only one i had knowledge of throughout the entire month. at first i was thinking "well if you look at it as muk's shiny then it could be passable" before remembering that muk's shiny is green and not blue. regardless, congrats to muk on the blue goo and pronouns. 3/10

day two: reuniclus

i can never spell this damn thing's name. i was pleasantly surprised to see reuniverse though, as it was evident that this calender wasn't going to just be filled with gen one pokemon like i suspected. gen five was actually tied with gen one for the most figurines with six, surpringly! unfortunately there's nothing after gen six though, not even any regional variants.

back to reunicorn, this is definitely on the higher end just for being the correct colour lmao. the bottom part of reunionize does not look like that though. 8/10

day three: clefairy

one of the better figurines for sure! while it's still evidently of bootleg quality, it could feasibly pass as official just for being the correct colours. her doing the little metronome dance from the anime in her posing is a nice touch too! 9/10

day four: tyrunt

oh my god they poured tar on him. why are his eyes soulless. he looks possessed. this makes me sad i don't like this one. 2/10

day five: dedenne

she's a little confused but she's got the spirit, i think. needs to be more orange but i guess looking like you're made of cheese is fitting for a mouse-like creature. 6/10

day six: miltank

ohhh i really hate this thing. i'm not a miltank hater by any means but this one looks gross and mouldy to me. girl go have a bath. 1/10

day seven: arbok

WHAT DID THEY DO TO MY GIRL!!!!!! SHE'S FUCKING NAKED!!!!!! sure they got the colour right but they stole her patterns!!! her most stunning feature!!!!!! she was proud of those patterns!!!! AND THEY STOLE THEM FROM HER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! hatred and anger/10

day eight: primeape

i don't want to make any comments about the eyes since i don't have strabismus, but i like that they kept his anger. the personality still manages to shine through here. the rest of the figurine is just. whatever. not the worst but not the best just completely average. 5/10

day nine: pansage

sorry the picture is ass i don't want to retake it lol. confession: while i don't really have any strong opinions on the elemental monkeys compared to a lot of fans, i do have a bit of a soft spot for pansage because i think he's adorable. rewatching the bw anime a few years back awoke that in me, and i think this one is pretty cute too! something about the :3 face just gets to me. despite missing its cream colouring, i think one is pretty solid overall! 7/10

day ten: victini

behold the extremely rare and powerful mythical pokemon victini! truly a marvel to witness! anyway i don't like that it's missing its teeth but it's okay i guess. 4/10

day eleven:

i don't really have much to say on this one tbh? i like that they gave it a stand since it would just fall over with those stubby little legs i guess but i just. don't see anything to really talk about here. 3/10

day twelve: grumpig

not as soulless-looking as tyrunt was, and maybe it's helped partially by grumpig already having some dark grey in its usual colour scheme so it doesn't look thaaat unusual, but it's still not a good one. 3/10

day thirteen: slowking

gives me the same gross and mouldy vibes as miltank but not as bad i think. i like the pose. i don't think i've ever seen slowking cross its arms like that in any official pokemon media or merch so there's some points for uniqueness. 4/10

day fourteen: darumaka

my son murngus who i fed a ball. i love this thing. this is peak. we're never getting any better than this. tpci should make this official merch. love and peace/10

day fifteen: swirlix

this is my daughter white boy. while i have criticisms with the lumps being too pronounced (they should be softer and more subtle imo) and the lack of feet, i honestly kinda love this one? it reminds me of those pathetic white dogs that look like they'll fall over if you breathe on them too hard, and while the big bumps don't give the image of candy floss like they're supposed to, this reminds me of a cloud in a way, which is still lovely to think about. 9/10

day sixteen: beartic

who hurt you beartic. the colours are right at least but. the face. 3/10

days seventeen, eighteen and nineteen: croconaw, totodile, feraligatr

i got the whole family one after another so might as well cover them together.

croconaw: the sniler...... croconaw manages to be the definition of both creepy AND wet here. it's unsettling a little bit but it gives it some personality. 6/10

totodile: i do not like that mouth whatsoever. what the fuck. 2/10

feraligatr: i have to question why feraligatr is a slightly different shade of blue than its younger siblings but that's neither here nor there. it's alright but the eyes are a bit unnerving to me. 4/10

day twenty: chimchar

the only gen four pokemon of the batch, which is sad for me as a gen four fan. it's fine but this one lacks chimchar's signature flame tail. unfortunate since chimchar canonically farting out fire is a key characteristic to me. 5/10

day twenty one: gothitelle

i look like this irl. not really much to complain about with this one side from the lack of a mouth and the face being white rather than purple. i like the complete and utter torment in her eyes. i could fix her fr. 7/10

day twenty two: grovyle

dedicating this one to my fellow pmd fans! they fucking peeled our lad!! the pose is kinda cool though. 6/10

day twenty three: aurorus

this one is a falls into the category of ugly cute to me. they used the wrong shade of blue but it's still fine imo. i simultaneously like the eyes but also don't like them. i'm very conflicted on how i feel about the finer details of this one but it's okay overall imo. 6/10

day twenty four: psyduck

ngl i was kinda hoping for something special for the last one. maybe delibird to go with it being for christmas, or another legendary/mythical, but i've been rewatching the anime again recently and they are so fucking mean to misty's psyduck that it's borderline unpleasant to watch at times, so you know what? psyduck deserves this.

it's pretty alright for a bootleg too. they got all the colours and key details right, even if it's rather shoddy, so i'll be generous with this one. 9/10

if you read all of this then thank you for joining me on this journey. i'm so glad i spent christmas eve deciding to review shitty knock-off pokemon merch rather than celebrating with my friends and family. and i'm very sorry that i released these beasts from their prison and have made them everyone else's problem now.

[vulpixisananimal]

[A:3 C61] [TW for: imagery of mutilated, bruised, and bleeding body] (Odile)

(It was sundown on the third day Ramos was out. No change.)

(You were sitting in the living room. Research notes splayed in front of you. You scoured every inch of your writing for anything that could help. Siffrin was asleep on Isabeau on the couch in front of you. Poor Siffrin had been having panics, but had been getting better. Although, it was concerning who it actually was you talked to.)

(Mal, Asterion, and Saffron. Only those three came out.)

(Asterion would stick to himself, talking silently, eating, and keeping in sight of you all. Any time any of you asked about what happened he froze up. It was clear, honestly, that the only reason he didn’t hide in his room was to alleviate all of your worries for him.)

(Mal would disappear for hours a time, only to return and drag Isabeau away. You asked him what that was about, but his lips were, for once, sealed. You had your suspicions, however.)

(But Saffron. . . They were the worst of all of them when it came to communicating. Getting them to admit they're saffron was pulling teeth. Getting him to admit he needs food was agony. And, you could see behind his smile.)

(“Persecutors need love just as much as anyone in order to heal.” That’s what the booklet Vixul gave Siffrin said. You could confirm it was true, but that didn’t make their biting remarks any less hurtful.)

(. . . Tension was high. If you could figure out how to help Ramos out of their catatonic state then. . . You took your glasses off and rubbed your eyes.)

(The issue is simple: Ramos’ catatonia was caused, indirectly, by mind craft. And the only one who knew mind craft was Ramos themself. So, what do you do?)

(You could continue to hope and pray for conventional remedies to work. You could look for an expert in psychology, or maybe even acupuncture. But you might as well wish to win a coin flip at that point! Ha, ha. . .)

(. . . Even with a grand library in your mind you couldn't think of anything.)

(Except. . . One thing.)

(. . . . . You didn't want to consider it.)

(You were considering it.)

(. . . . You finish considering it, and stand.) “I need a break.”

(The half asleep Isabeau opened an eye.) “Hmm?”

“I'm going to the library.” 

“M’kaaay. . .”

(You've got your notes, coat, everything you need. You waste no time and leave the house, headed directly to the library.)

(You go over the plan in your head. Merlon is back, so there is no truce. Attempt to talk to him. Keep your distance. Look out for any surprises from Merlon, talk politely. Appeal to his soft side, and look for a way to keep him distracted so he can't read your thoughts. He's fast, and your craft type is at a disadvantage, so direct combat is a bad idea. What about a trade? Information for assistance?)

(You couldn't trade any old thing you knew, he's a historian. Perci would know about the Expression of Search’s Elaborate Dance of the Guide. No, it would need to be something more. . . Exciting.)

(You continued to walk. What about What Loop looked like? Call craft? The fact that your party has met gods multiple times now? The fight with the king?)

(. . . Siffrin’s cosmic temper tantrum would be best kept quiet.)

(You made it to the library, you'll check here first. You walk up the steps and into the lobby. The librarian from a few days ago was here, sleepily sipping a cup of tea. They waved.) “Madame Odile, good to see you again.”

“Hello, same to you.” (You walk up to the counter.)

“. . . Tea?” 

(You paused, then smiled.) “. . Please.”

“Camomile or ginger.” (They ask, getting up.)

“Ginger, please. No milk, no sugar.” 

“Perfect, I just boiled the pot.”

(You watch them go. A cup of tea would be perfect. Something to calm your nerves before, whatever happens happens. A moment later they were back, and handed you a cup. You thank them, then move into the library proper.)

(It didn’t take long. Perci was sitting at the center of the library, at a grand table. Books to either side of him. A chessboard to the left. You could hear the familiar scribbling of a pen. Your steps echoed through the silent building as you approached.)

(You stopped a few feet back from him, and waited.)

(There were a few moments where the only sound was that pen, before he finally stopped. He looked up, then back down again.) “. . . Madame.”

“Percival.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“. . .” (You walk around the table, place down your tea, and take a seat.)  “I have come to strike a deal.”

“Have you now.” (He’s smiling, the face of a man truly absorbed in his work.) “I thought we weren’t all buddy buddy now.”

“You know why, Percival.” (You glare at him.)

“Haa. . . That, I do.” (He clicks his pen and puts it to the side.) “Three days already? That is worrying, but what do you want me to do about it?”

(You sip your tea, and stare directly at him.)

“. . . You’re very good at hiding your thoughts, Madame. And I must say, after the inn, I would sooner ride a bull off a cliff than try and tame your mind.”

(You keep your face neutral.)

“. . . . . That is to say, I should be giving you some more respect.” (Perci looks at you, then turns and grabs the chessboard, and starts setting it up.) “Chess? It’ll keep my mind wandering to yours.”

“Thank you.” (You huff.) “I’m no idiot, and while I can respect your mind games, I, for one, like cutting straight to the point.”

“Very respectable.” (He finishes placing the last pieces. Darkless on your side, Lightless on his.) “So, after you, madame. Light before shadow, after all.”

“Of course.” (You pick up a pawn, forward two.) 

“So.” (He moves a pawn to match.) “You would like help with Ramos.”

“Yes.” (Pawn to cover.) “Either you help them recover, or teach me some form of mind craft to do it myself.”

“Ah, well that’s an issue, isn’t it?” (Knight forward.) “I will not teach you mind craft, and I doubt your companions will let me into Ramos’ mind.”

“That is an issue.” (Pawn forward.) “Why can’t you teach me?”

“And give you a dagger to stab me with?” (Knight takes a pawn.) “You would have to give me something good in return.”

“I see.” (Pawn takes the knight.) “Then how about what I found on our travels?”

“Hmm, tempting.” (Bishop forward.) “Very tempting, madame.”

“The ascent through the Dormont House of Change?” (Pawn forward.) 

“Getting there.” (Pawn forward.) “Dormont is a nice little town, isn’t it?”

“Hmm? Have you been?” (Pawn takes a pawn.) 

“Oh no no.” (Bishop takes a pawn.) “I’ve just heard so much about it when researching you all.”

“Really now?” (Knight takes a bishop.) “But of course, rumor can only tell you so much!”

“Ah of course, of course.” (He thinks, then moves a pawn up.) “After all, you tend to hear the strangest of rumors.”

“. . . Like?” (Knight takes a pawn.) 

“Oh nothing too strange, just. . .” (Queen takes a knight; advantage to Perci.) “Giant cracks in the sky of an unknown shade, a cloaked figure dozens of stories tall, small things like that.”

“. . .” (You move a rook.) “Just silly rumors.”

“Oh? Is that the same with the rumors of the king?” (Queen takes a pawn.) “That he was an islander too?”

“. . .” (Move the king.)

“An islander just like my bonded, just like your traveler.” (Queen takes a rook.) “I wonder, do they share some other connection? Perhaps even a family member?”

“. . . Whoever Siffrins family was, they weren’t like the King.” (Knight takes the queen.) “If anything, the King's family would have been like your own.”

(Perci is stunned, looking at the board. He glances up, then back. He castles his king.) “And what would you know about that?”

“Quite a lot.” (Bishop takes a pawn; advantage to you) “Percival Monet, the youngest of the Monets, who destroyed his own family.”

“. . . That’s nothing-” (Knight forward.)

“Oh it’s everything.” (Bishop takes the knight.) “I did not recognize that swear you use, Perci. So, I got curious.”

“And what does that have to do with anything?” (Pawn forward.)

“I looked it up in a teenager's book about swears.” (You chuckle, pawn moved up.) “It’s Poterian.”

“. . .” (Pawn up.)

“A Poterian swear that’s only really used in very old, rich families.” (Knight takes a pawn.) “And from there, there’s only so many families to check.”

“But there isn’t a book in the library about the Monets.” (Pawn takes pawn.) 

“And the House of Change library?” (Bishop takes a knight.) “The secret library? Each house has one, after all.”

“I. . .” (He pauses, looking over the board, eyes wide. Rook forward.) “. . . What do you know?”

“The Monet family. One of the oldest and well known in devoted Soleanist society. Old money. And old corruption.” (Bishop takes a pawn; Perci is in check.) “The last Monet’s were disgraced, the two house leaders at the time.”

“. . .” (Move rook.) “What else?”

“Just that the only Monet with any reputation left, is a historian.” (Bishop forward; Perci is in check.) “And that historian, is you.”

“. . . . . . Hah. . .” (Perci lowers his head.) “Ha, HA! HAHA!! Oh yes! Madame, I knew you were brilliant. From the moment I touched your mind, I knew, I just knew, you were something else.”

(His rook takes your bishop.)

(You lean forward. Something was wrong about this board. You had been counting moves ahead, but there were errors. You didn’t take into account some pieces, pieces that were there but you just, didn’t focus on them. They were out of the way, not a problem. He took your bishop, and you could see the next moves clearly. Next, your knight, then rook, then queen, and then. . .)

(Checkmate.)

“. . . . ha. . . Haha!!” (You sit back with a sigh.) “. . . How.”

“Ah, took you long enough.” (Perci looked at you with a smug smile.) “It was the tea.”

(You look at the cup of tea, then shake your head.) “You took control of the librarian, and spiked the tea with some sleep or relaxation agent. Not enough to be noticeable, but enough to graze my hand without me noticing.”

(Exactly.)

(In a motion, the tables and chairs melted into the floor. The bookshelves expanded, the ceiling disappeared into a thick fog miles in the air. Lanterns lit the endless halls. Perci seemingly disappeared. You stood in your headspace.)

(I don’t think vast is an accurate enough word to describe your mind, Odile. Your voice echoes through the library.)

(A better word for it would be private! You turn, where are you?)

(You pull a book off a shelf. Why, I’m just over here!)

(The hallways shift once again as you glide towards his voice. You can see him! Get, OUT-)

(Your breath catches.)

(You can only begin to imagine what form of hell Perci must have gone through to end up looking like a walking corpse. No, not a corpse. A corpse could at least rot.)

(He had scars, bruises, pinpricks, lines that look as if someone was sewing something into his skin. He had rashes from shackles, his nose was broken, one eye droopy. His clothes were torn and now looked more like a university uniform with the crest torn out.)

(He looks at you, the look he had, it was. . .)

(Hello, Madame. She looks so similar to how she does in reality, except for the fact she floats ever so slightly off the ground. Are you so tied to your own self image to not experiment a little, Madame?) 

(Gems alive. Something hits you in your soul, some emotion, some fear. You take a step back. Why do you-)

(Look like this? Oh, Madame~ You close the book, drop it, and turn to her. Please, allow me to show you!)

[toadletthefirst]

Rant about prisoner-cage

While talking with a friend, I suddenly came up with this artistic monologue about why I relate to the cage so much. And they said I should write it down. So here it is! Might be helpful for writing characters with similar mindsets or to anyone in a similar situation.

TW for mentions of self-harm, medical issues, and violence 

Prisoner-Cage narrative as an allegory of self-harm and its consequences

At the core, there was always a dynamic in you. Your legs were ready to run, your arms were raised in an attempt to defend yourself, your eyesight was sharp and widespread to see the danger. But there was no movement to use it. There never was a place to flee. There was no one you could fight. And all you could do was watch.

Trapped in solitude, your mind raced in search of salvation, while the body kept screaming in need of escape. Here it is: suddenly, there was no you. It's you and It, together. And It can't survive since it can't flee. It was being destroyed by its own irrelevance: legs got weaker, arms became fragile, eyes were blackened by tears, and jaw was broken by pleading, but there was no mercy from the danger. The hazard looks back. It doesn't know the language of the pitiful. 

[the construct influences the princess, which makes her a threat even before TLQ sees her. Since he took the knife, there is no point in showing sorrow—the world is already unempathetic to you]

So the mind takes control over the body. You observe the pattern, you learn the language of the threat, you speak in an unknown manner to please any visitor in hope they would become your savior. Cries, and rage, and everything that was alive in you never helped, so you turn it off. And sometimes, the public listens. 

[how prisoner appears after talking to the base princess: she only uses her voice, knowing that any physical action can trigger change in TLQ's attitude]

 You draw the conclusion: if restraint of your physic helped you to survive, then the physic itself was the root of the problem. Your mind can be at peace in any conditions, and in the perseverance find a path to escape - but your body never could. It never came up with answers, only with constant longing in the tight cell.  It was the prison. You'll do your best to make it fit your requirements.

[This idea is confirmed even more by the narrator taking advantage of TLQ, whose perception builds upon this revelation, strengthening it even more in the next chapter]

In this moment of realization, you become the vanquisher of the body. All these years, It was the one who caused the pain. It might not have been the reason, but it surely was the beginning. It was the obstacle keeping you from the escape. With this knowledge, you thwart any attempts at rebellion. You are not your body, and you are not with your body, but you are against it. 

One might say you literally cut your head off. You clear your mind of any presence of the body. And you do it by harming yourself directly. 

In this power you find the freedom you wished for. Now you're the one to punish, and does it really matter who is the target if you are the one holding the strings? So you do all it takes to stay in control of this weak changeable substance, to achieve the goal of salvation. And you find your resolve. And you finally break free.  

But the freedom it gives is temporary.

And at one moment, It strikes back. That's when the cage starts.

Suddenly, you can't make it do anything anymore. No matter how much you push, it declines to work. You can't think clearly anymore. You can't decide anymore. You are not in control anymore—the body is. And It is relentless. Not because of the hate or the vengeance, but out of the simple deterioration. You can't ignore it anymore. Because it starts to act without you. It decides when to faint, indifferently to your wish to stand, and when to panic, no matter how you're sure of the safety, and, the worst one, when to ache. Desperate, prolonged pain throughout all your nerves, making it impossible to think.

How can you outsmart It now, when It dictates all your course of thoughts?

You always knew how weak your body was, but you could always compensate for it with your sheer will. Now you can't. Now it's far stronger than your mind. And you are getting weaker.

You start changing for It. You give up on fighting. You start caring—something you should've started a long time ago. But who are you, if not this will encroaching for the sake of freedom? You've become something littler. You are the routine your body dictates to keep it alive. You are once again that trapped victim you were before. And at this time, not because of the circumstances, but because of yourself. The only path to escape you knew was ruined, because even in your mind there is no peace anymore.

That was basically the state I was in when seeing the cage for the first time.

That's why seeing the "no escape" ending was so therapeutic for me. Of course there is no exit from the cycle. There is no harm without continuation, and no action of my own could be outside of the paradigm since no deed could be outside of the self I'm linked to. Once hurt, it hurts back and gets hurt again. But maybe there is a peace in that. Maybe I can never stop the swinging of the metronome, but at least I can find peace in its rhythm. After trying to be the winner, I came only to a tie, so I might as well agree on it before putting more effort into violence. I'll never be as ingenuous as I was, and I don't want to be as imperious as I tried to be, and it's fine. I'll make my peace by being patient. It can ache, and I'll ache with it, but it's fine. I won't try to be something bigger. I'll love some littler things. It's finally time to rest.

***

So, just to make myself clear, a quick recap of how self-harming behavior falls under the narrative of this story: Your natural reactions failed to provide safety, so you silence them and develop a strategic voice of reason—[the hero and the princess pre-prisoner]. Then you start seeing your body as another obstacle to freedom, and in trying to deny its impact on you, you hurt it— [the prisoner cuts her head off]. And once you've reached the point of destruction that is too great, you finally start seeing consequences of what you've done, and now the sick body starts to dictate its rules of how to stay alive. And you are in a trap once again— [the cage].

Of course it's not the only way to view this route, and it's not the only theme it covers. But this reading is very important to me, so I'll be glad if you enjoyed it just as much

So let me know if you read it till the end! Any discussion is appreciated

[ashyjingles]

jason grace headcanons

as requested by @sacrifical-lamb-core

ive been known to enjoy some more feral leaning jason grace but this is more of an authoritative take on his personality if you will. feel free to add to or dispute anything i have here!! this is all kind of a jumbled mess of first-come-first-serve deal in my head and i have yet to go through and weed any out

he has problems with authority. not outwardly; in fact, to everyone else, he’s the picture perfect kid who follows all of the rules. but that’s because he’s terrified of what would happen if he stepped out of line. he grew up with lupa, who was incredibly harsh to ensure survival in her pups. and then when he got to the legion, all of the officers were required to uphold the law. jason saw what happened to people who stepped the line, and the results were never pretty. (in son of neptune they mentione tying someone in a bag with weasels and throwing them in the little tiber for fuck’s sake) he grew scared to even TOE the line. 

because of the previous hc, he’s scared of kids. he knows how rambunctious they get, and he knows that if it came down to it, he would have to punish them and follow through on it by necessity. its what all his predecessors did after all. but he doesn't want to harm them. hes always had that soft spot for the new and/or younger kids. so he’s not scared of kids themselves, he’s scared of being the one to give them consequences to their potential actions. he leaves that to someone else with more guts

the previous two leave him with a lot of cognitive dissonance that he never really gets over. he’s an incredibly empathetic person and no matter how much he tries he can never really stop that feeling of regret when he has to punish someone who clearly regrets their actions. but give them an inch and they'll take a mile. he has major problems with dissociation where he removes his sense of self from the scenario and lets his logical processing take over without any emotion. reyna has had to pull him back from it a few too many times.

between the dissociation, magical amnesia, adhd, and constant brain damage, that boy has one of the worst memories youve ever seen

he really likes steak. specifically rare steak. (wolf!jason truther…)

he can see electrical currents! and can. see? wind currents. its more of a knowing the wind currents are there without thinking about them rather than a visual thing though. its how despite his poor eyesight he was an excellent fighter before he got the glasses

jason has really sharp canines! so does thalia! they get it from their mom, who filed her own canines down for a softer appearance and would have done the same to her kids once they were old enough for that type of dental work. 

jason is left handed, but because of military-style training early on it was forcibly trained out of him either because nobody realized he was left-handed or because they looked down on left-handedness for the sake of unanimity in the formations on the field. he just thinks hes naturally ambidextrous

gay. mlm. boy kisser for certain that man does NOT like girls. he treated reyna and piper the exact same despite one of them being his girlfriend (and treated reyna in a way where she thought he might have liked her back) because he treats them both in accordance to his emotions toward them: ie, he likes both platonically, which is why theres no difference. he just cant tell.

he fucking LOVES mint. says brushing his teeth and chugging a cold glass of water makes his mouth feel like being up in the air and 15 thousand feet with the wind in face.

he’s half asian! beryl grace is asian (i usually go with either thai or vietnamese) and usually i just went with wasian but then the show came out and now i go with blasian. or maybe beryl grace is wasian? whatever the case, i always pictured him and thalia as having some sort of asian descent.

hes really good at archery. dont tell anyone its just him controlling the winds though

hes such a dog person oh my god

his eyes light up like circuits/lightning when he uses his powers. specifically his lightning powers. 

jason doesnt have dyslexia but he does have dyscalculia. like, really bad dyscalculia. but he still greatly prefers reading in latin!

jason hated reading for the longest time because they didnt have any books purely for enjoyment on base. in new rome itself they had bookstores with plenty of books. (they were mostly classics because they didnt have too much contact with the rest of the world, but they were more than just military reports or old historic scrolls you needed express permission to even breath on) but when he discovers newer books he finds himself really liking them! though his favourite genre is definitely classics, and when someone breaks the news to him that he couldve had these books the entire time hes devastated

when he was younger he was better at latin than english because most kids who arrive at camp jupiter know english already and theyre well equipped at teaching people latin, but not english. they had to send him to a school off base/in new rome for younger kids to learn some more rudimentary skills

it was under juno’s orders that he lived on base. she wanted him to be as prepared as possible for his future, which meant starting his training bright and early. otherwise he probably would have spent some time in camp jupiter as a normal kid until he could at least, oh i dunno, read and write. tie his shoes. eat with cutlery. take a bath by himself.

if jason had been there long enough without the swap ever happening, when he stepped down from praetor (not for another longggg few years) he would have done law in new rome. 

if post swap jason grace had the opportunity to do law in new rome, he would have pushed for rules regarding kids safety. of course, if another jason case were to happen nobody would have been able to deny a god(dess) but jason was never a normal case, was he?

can you tell i like lawyer!jason

less of a headcanon more of commentary on his character but as strong of a character as he was, camp half blood taught him how to have a back bone. in rome he was incredibly disciplined and had no trouble ordering other people around, but it was always in accordance with new rome’s laws. camp half blood taught him how to abide by his own moral principles rather than ones that someone else gave to him. (after all, new rome was about unity while chb was about individuality.) 

he honestly really likes his work as pontifex maximus. it fulfills his inner desire to be doing the ‘right’ thing by rome’s standards (especially because the title is highly revered) while giving him the room to express his creative desires, which is something that he had never been able to do. its also not at the cost of someone else, which usually ended up happening when he was upholding the law as praetor

this one works in contrast or in tandem with my previous bullet on his sexuality (specifically the comment on how he treated piper and reyna): he knew that reyna had a crush on him. he didnt know why he couldnt feel the same. queer culture wasnt really a thing in the modern world for the time it took place, and i dont imagine new rome was any more progressive. he didnt understand lots of things about his sexuality at the time. he didnt know that not liking girls might have been an option, and that he didnt have to like reyna back. so he tried his best to convince himself into having feelings for her, which led to reyna thinking they were reciprocated. once he met piper, that confusion happened all over again and even without his memories he found himself repeating the process

his favourite is blue like the sky, and ironically his and thalia’s eyes

thalias eyes are slightly darker than jason’s. more grey as well. jason’s are the brightest fucking blue youve ever seen. think the clearest, sunniest day youve ever seen, and it still doesnt hold a candle to his eyes. thalias are more like the sky before a storm.

jason can feel (along with see as given by previous bullet) electrical currents. he could feel someone switching a light switch from half a mile away if he thought about it

hes constantly brimming with static electricity and WILL shock everything he touches. a handshake? you get shocked. he tries to open a car door? literal sparks. as a kid he had to wear electricity resistant gloves because he didnt have a hold on it and it became dangerous because when his emotions are heightened, so are his powers. if he gets angry or excited or sad the air around him smells like ozone, and sometimes you can even see the sparks

cows really like him. straight up adore him. theyre his favourite animal!

he smells like ink, ozone, and something metallic. some people say blood, but hazel says its something like copper or nickel

[clubsmarties]

"High school didn't date. With both sisters partnered up, it didn't seem fun. I didn't even go to my own prom. When I tell you I was a homebody, I swear I'm not kidding. College, eh there was a girl who asked to go on a date but I didn't go. Trust didn't come easy to me. Which I guess looking back did seem like I was an asshole but I kept people at a distance. Worst nightmare was people getting to know me at the time. Quantico couldn't date there were rules and other stupid shit. I'm trying to remember a time," frankly trust issues prevented him from going for it most of the times. "Alright, I guess camp could count. I was six and this other girl was seven. Technically guess it counts as a first kiss. But I don't actually count it since right after she threw me in the pool at night. It was a peck so really not this big deal. Falling in love before you? No, can't say that I had. You came in like a whirlwind and had me on my knees." His smile told her everything she needed to know. "No, never had a parents talk either. I had one with my sisters husbands when they wanted to get engaged but not the other way around."

He hummed as he laughed in a response. "It was but this girl was boring with a capital boring. The dullest human I think ever. I was also young and dumb so really could just blame that." Who didn't do shit they weren't proud of in their youth. He turned just in time to wipe her eyes softly and brought his thumb down to her lips and laughed when she kissed his cheek.

The initial moment had him frowning and relaxing his eyebrows. A smile so striking took over his features as he heard her full name and mulled it over. "Elizabeth Sóley Bordeaux." he repeated softly. The last name slipping past his lips. "That is perfect." Now he wasn't going to lie. He could see her as his wife. If that was something she could also see. Sharing her life with his.

Watching her sitting up he smirked. "Oh, is that so? So no on well behaved wally on this trip then? Interesting. There is such a thing as a mile high club. First class bathrooms are a lot more spacious." The reason he knew that was now forever imprinted in his mind forever. He knew once he got her on the ghost adventures guy she'd have something to say which always made him chuckle. Though now he stayed quiet letting her go at it. Her reasoning made sense. "Maybe we should send one of those island elves over to this dudes house. Get him a dicky trickster. Seem to be the same."

He started to laugh and shook his head. "Scouts honor no inadequate feelings here. I mean you don't leave unsatisfied so must be doing something right." He bumped her shoulder and smiled. "Come on, besides we can totally make super inappropriate jokes. That's where the fun lies." Getting himself in a measuring contest with dicks made him laugh. He grabbed her hand and shot up from his seat. "We're first to get in." His eyes widened as he showed the attendant his phone and heard them beep the screen. Then were told to have a safe flight. He hummed and thanked them and rolled his bag down. Reaching the plane and the awaiting flight attendants smiles greeting them. He eyed the first seat which looked more like beds than actual seats. "Ladies choice," he let go of her hand and waited for her to take her seat.

"No.” She scoffed but with a smile. “ I get not recently but what about in high school? College? You're going to tell me you never dated and fallen in love before? Never had to do the meeting of parents or had to the what are your intensions with my child, talk?" While she had never had done these personally herself there were plenty she had to pretend through. It wasn't as if she was trying to fish some sort of sordid affair from him, it was just her trying to know more about the man he loved.

At his story though she looked at his hand. She had pretended a lot of things to get out of various situations but stabbing herself with a utensil never crossed her mind before. "That seems rather extreme." The next words that came from him though, had her hazel eyes gleam with tears, adoration. Love. There was never going to be enough words, gestures, anything in the world that could ever say how much she loved him. So for now, she settled on a small kiss, leaning over and placed it on his cheek.

"You got that all wrong," her tone serious as she settled her head on his shoulder. "I have no idea who Elizabeth Bordeaux is or could be. It sounds all wrong." Watching more people come and go. She had never thought about marriage, even considered it a part of her future one day, but here she was. Like a school girl thinking about her having the same last name as her crush. Though they might not marry, the reason for this trip was at the forefront of him. There was no one else she would ever do this with, consider doing this with. Releasing a small sigh she spoke again. "Elizabeth Sóley Bordeaux, now that one rolls off the tongue a bit better. If I do say so myself."

Sitting up, she shook her head, it was no surprise that she was excited and ready to read the new novel in her possession now. The distractions that Wally provided though, were very tempting and she did enjoy them. "That sounds highly unlikely." Raised eyebrow. "What if I wanted you on your worst behavior?" It was a tease, not like they could do much on the plane full of people anyway.

"Ghost adventures?!" Elizabeth despised that man. Having accidentally seen an episode when she was channel surfing once, she absolutely hated him. Could see past the facade the man put up about being able to channel the other side or other beings. "That fake wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a marmennill, selkie or a mermaid! Anyway," a slight roll of her eyes. "On the island elves are believed to go home from home offering gifts but if you accept them, it causes madness. So its best not to. So technically they are all dicky."

The thought of them going to the museum had her smiling like a fool. "The musuem gets some thing wagging. We can go as long as you don't feel...," she thought over the right word to say but could only giggle when she continued. "Inadequate after, we can consider it. Men don't tend to like to see how they size up to others. There's also lots of museums and we can always go back to see them all."

Hearing another overhead call for another flight boarding, she nudging his shoulder playfully. "Is that us?" She was slightly anxious, ready to embark on this adventure to find that 'right moment.'