#most accurate assessment of the two of them of all time

[monkberries]

I think ‘that one guy’ who said John and Paul were like Leopold and Loeb was Bob Wooler 😂

you are correct lmao i just couldnt be bothered to look it up, thank you

[martiansodas-blog]

too pretty to think.

when art started to slip, it almost felt like falling asleep…

a. donaldson x reader

word count: 2,216

contents: dumbification, body worship, face sitting, multiple orgasms, cuming untouched, brief mommy kink, subspace, nicknames and pet names, this is freak nasty.

Xx

The first time 

You and Art have been going steady for 6 months and you loved every second of it. the two of you mostly hung out at your place, it's a tad cleaner than his dorm and he never bothered with things like decorations. It was a haven for the both of you. So when your Blackberry buzzed with a message asking,

“r u home?” 

It was hardly out of the ordinary.

“yeah. just changed clothes”

“can i come over?”

“of course”

Donaldson is a man who never knows when to quit. Let's rephrase: He’ll only quit when instructed to. 

He treats his body like a machine. He eats what his nutritionist tells him to, he pushes his body to the limit, and he rarely turns in a paper late. 

When you opened your front door your boyfriend was in chaotic ruins. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks were stained. He stared at the floor with his calloused hands in his pockets.

“Oh my gosh, what happened?? What’s wrong?”

Your tone had urgency as you ushered him inside. Once the door is closed he pulls you in for a hug. You don’t dare speak, just hug back. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. 

It’s obvious he’s trying to hold himself together, but stroking his back caused him to break.

“Aw, baby,” 

You sway him from side to side. 

“Shh, it’s ok. I’m here.”

After a few minutes, Art regained control of his breathing. You put him at arm's length—your voice just above a whisper. 

“Would you like to come lay down with me? We don’t have to talk about it if you don't want to, let's just get you comfortable.”

Art sniffles and nods his head—your poor baby. 

You held his hand and led the way to your room. You sat on your bed with your back against the wall so he could lay between your legs. He often takes this position when you guys are watching movies so it will add a level of comfort for him. 

Art takes some deep breaths as you run your nails through his hair. 

“We got a new coach and he- he’s so intense. I don’t know. I’ve been berated by coaches since I was 13. Why the hell is this one affecting me differently?” 

You twist one of his curls in your fingers. 

“Everything's just so much right now. Schoolwork, post-graduation plans, sponsorships… There's so much going on all the time. I- I can’t do it.” 

Your heart broke for him. 

“I’m so sorry, Artie. I wish I could take it all away from you.”

You rubbed his arms and back for who knows how long. It could have been hours. You didn’t care. You’d cancel your week's agenda if that’s what he needed. You weren’t getting up until he felt better. 

You analyzed his words.

“It’s not that you’re unable to make decisions, and it’s not that you make bad decisions. It’s just that decisions are constant unrelenting work… is that an accurate assessment?”

He nodded and sighed into your shirt like you were the one person in the world who understood him. 

“...And a good boy like you should never have to work.” 

Art froze. 

Well, that’s new. 

You decided to test the waters further and put on your most sultry voice. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll think for you.” 

He let out a sound that can only be described as a mewl. His body curled into a semi-circle. 

You swept some hair out of his eyes, they seemed to get droopier.

I don't know what exactly is transpiring he’s responding to it.

“Let your thoughts go. You don’t need them.” 

Eyes are fully closed now.

“Can you unclench your jaw for me? That’s it.”

He does as he's told, falling deeper into whatever hollow you're creating. He bites back a smile but his blush is evident. So easy to get him to blush. One of his cutest attributes.

Next step is Moving your handsome boy to lay on his stomach so you can rub his shoulders. You hear him sigh while the tension is worked out of his muscles and watch him relax under your hands. 

Walking him through some deep breaths while you place dozens of soft, light kisses on his neck. 

You want to make him understand what a privilege it is to have him.

Rubbing his thighs and calves, slowly melting away the stress of the day. Kisses on the backs of his knees while he laughs and tells you to stop that and that it tickles.

Helping him turn over to lie on his back and climbing carefully on top to straddle him.

You toy with the hem of his shirt. 

“Can I take this off?”

He looks up at you. mouth open and nods. 

It causes you to giggle. 

“Thank you.” 

Once that’s out of the way your hands wander up to his chest while trailing more impossibly light kisses down his Adam's apple. Massaging his chest, squeezing and grabbing and just feeling his skin. 

Kissing his collarbones, trailing your tongue along the dip where they meet under his neck. Slowly working that boy up with teasing touches that only get more and more unbearable.

Slowly returning to his lips to kiss him again while you reach down to trail your fingertips over his cock. He pants and whines so sweetly into your mouth while you play with his cock. You're not even trying to make him cum-- not yet. 

I could do this all day. 

Letting him drift in a fuzzy-headed space while you work your fingers soft and slow over his pants. Doesn't need to worry about anything but your hands on his body. You're right here to keep him safe and make him feel good.

“There's nothing I love more than watching my brilliant, polite, well-spoken boyfriend turn mindless.” 

Art whined and bucked his hips up to meet your hand.

“I need to be in you so bad. Please.”

Who are you to refuse him?

“Don't worry baby, I’ll give you what you want.” 

You slid off him and he reached for you, like he couldn’t stand you being an inch away for any amount of time. You chuckled and took off your bottoms and underwear, he copied. 

You hopped back on top of him, which made him break out into a smile. His girl was about to take care of him. 

You grabbed his cock and started stroking him. 

“I don’t know if I’m wet enough, Artie.”

“Sitonmyface.” He begged all in one breath. 

You bit your lip so as not to laugh at him. It wasn’t in a mean way, no no! He was just so excited about it. It’s adorable and flattering all at the same time.

“Are you sure? We’ve never done that before.”

We haven’t done a lot of this before. 

He shamelessly nodded. Grabbing your waist with both hands and shifting your body up before you could protest. 

“I don’t want to crush you.”

At this point, he was panting. A dog seconds away from getting a treat. 

“You won’t.” 

Art has eaten you out before, and it’s been wonderful. But this? This is a new kind of ecstasy. 

His tongue reaches new trenches. 

And that fucking nose. It bumped your clit every time. You were gasping and making noises you didn’t know were possible. His mouth is memorizing your folds. He's getting off on your arousal.  His tip is red and hurting, but can barely care when a taste crafted just for him is on his lips. 

“Shit. Just like that.” 

Your thighs trapped his face, your breath hitched with every thrust, and your walls clenched around his tongue. 

“Oh god, oh god,” 

Truthfully, Art didn't know which of you came first. 

The only thing he knew was your body. 

You shuffled down and kissed all over his face which was covered in your release. 

“You made mommy feel so good.”

He smiled up at you. He was so proud that he could do that for you. Like it was his purpose in life. And oh did he love that nickname. It made him feel all soft, like when you recall a fond memory. 

“Do you want Mommy to sit on your cock?” 

He whimpered and nodded. 

You lined yourself up with him and sank. It was so easy due to both of your juices, you had to concentrate on lowering slowly so he didn’t bottom out too fast. 

The two of you moaned in unison. It was almost tantric. Even though the focus here is on Art, it’s impossible not to feel the same pleasure. It wasn’t just your sexualities that were aligned but your souls. The love you felt for each other was palpable. 

It didn’t take long for him to bottom out. But it wasn’t enough. You ground your hips into him, causing his voice to raise an octave. 

“Oh fuck. Hnnn! Fuck, feels so good, please.”

He was babbling nonsense, unable to create cohesive thoughts or keep any sounds in. 

You remove his hands clutching the sheets and replace them with your own. To bring him back to earth. 

When he couldn’t get enough he bucked his hips up into yours. Moving aimlessly, mindlessly. You held his hips down to the mattress and bounced on his dick. The sounds of his cock hitting your weeping entrance were insanely beautiful and sinful to listen to. 

“Such a good boy.” 

His dick jumped inside of you at that. Seemingly of its own volition. 

You shifted to pepper kisses on his jawline. The new position forced his cock to rub all kinds of new places. You nearly collapsed onto him from the shock. Heavy exhales leave your mouth. Your pussy suffocates his cock. 

“My good boy. Just a dumb little thing for me to use isn't that right.”

Art came on the spot. No warning. His skin flushed and curls were damp on his forehead. Words were coiled at his throat, coming out as broken sobs, wanting more. 

You rode him until it was clear he'd finished. 

“Did you cum for me, baby?”

“Yes. I'm sorry I should’ve said something I couldn't help it. Felt too good, I didn’t -“

“Shh sweetheart, you did nothing wrong. You can cum in me as many times as you like. That's what I’m here for. That’s what this,” you clenched around him, “is for.” 

“Fuck.” his breath quivering. He arched his back, sensitive little thing. 

“I love it when you spill yourself into me. it’s so warm in here now.” 

You placed his hand on your lower stomach, your womb. 

“Can we go again please?”

“Are you sure? I don't want to push you.”

He shuffled so you were both sitting up. causing you to gasp. His erection never left, and it’s ever so prevalent right now. 

“Please! Wanna keep myself buried here forever.” 

It was hard to remain the level-headed one after hearing that. 

“You make me so wet when you say that, Artie.” 

There's drool coming from his mouth as he watches you talk. Nothing behind those eyes.

“So wet and needy.” 

You soften your voice, and when you talk it’s into his mouth. 

“You gonna let me take you again?”

He groaned and nodded, then ferociously kissed you. He wrapped his strong arms around your torso and immediately disliked how much fabric was between the two of you. He ripped your t-shirt and sports bra off in nearly one motion. Sighing when he felt skin on skin.

“I’m going to play with you until there's nothing in that head except my name.”

And you did. You fucked him till his brain turned to mush. Till it felt so good he thought he was going crazy, till he couldn’t even hear how loud he was being. Just blissed out being pulled back into your cunt. 

What an honor, to have such an obedient, adoring boy like him. 

You let him stay like that, floaty and sweet until he fell asleep to whispered praises. 

“My good boy. You did such a good job for me.”

A kiss to his forehead. 

“You know I love you so much.”

Tucked under the covers.

“So good for me, honey. You're okay. I'm proud of you. You're all mine, and I'm all yours.”

You raked your nails along his back.

“Relax, It'll all be there for you tomorrow. But for right now, all you need to be is my good, sweet boy. And you are.”

You moved off the bed which concerned Art. 

“Are you leaving?” 

He looked like he could cry. You cradled his face. 

“No baby boy, of course not. I’m only getting you some water. I’ll be right back” 

You spoke to him like a child bedridden with a cold. It was clear the comedown was something intense and never experienced before. He needed you next to him right now.

“Alright lovely, I know you’re tired but have a few drinks of this for me.”

You guided the water bottle into his mouth till you were satisfied with the amount he got in his system. 

“Rest now. I’ll cuddle you.” 

The blonde fell asleep immediately in your embrace and you hoped it wouldn't be the last time you took his thoughts away.

[2pndr]

Dinner In a Winter Wonderland

Hi! This is my first ever fic! Hope you enjoy it :D

Winter x Male Reader Fluff

8.4k words (sorry)

“We’ll only agree if you guys bring along a fourth friend, ok?”

Your three friends all recited to you the conditions a “goddess” had set for the Christmas quadruple date they were dragging you into.

You sat at your desk, speechless as you scanned the pleading faces of your roommates and long-time friends, stunned by their brazen appeals to you. It was probably that last sentence that bamboozled you the most though. Sure you were the closest to them, but it’s not like they were short on other friends. Why did you of all people have to come along?

“Why me of all people?” you asked again, this time out loud.

“Well, apparently, they have a you in their friend group too,” one of your friends began.

“A me?” you scoffed.

“Yeah, a you,” he continued. “Y’know, a stubborn, reclusive homebody who needs to be dragged out of their room every time their friends wanna hang out. All because they enjoy their ‘me time’ a little too much,” he joked, perhaps a bit too accurately imitating your increasingly weak excuses to leave the dorm.

“Ha, ha,” you mocked.

“No seriously! Apparently, her name’s Winter.”

“Winter?” You stifled a snicker. “Like the season? That’s her real name?”

“I mean, that’s what they told us,” your friend replied with a shrug. “Who cares? It’s kinda cute.”

You silently agreed, hiding a smirk as to not concede that your interest was piqued. “So let me get this straight,” you began, folding your arms in an attempt to appear unfazed. “The only reason I’m being dragged along is because you guys need someone to pair up with some girl who—what?—shares my hate for leaving the house? The hell’s in this for me?” You asked, feigning anger.

“Dude, it’ll be a perfect match!” another friend enticed, desperately trying to paint the situation in an appealing light. “You both don’t like leaving your rooms, you both hate meeting new people. It’s like the universe is aligning for you two to meet.”

Did he even realise the irony of that sentence?

“C'mon man, spending Christmas alone in your room three years in a row is some of the saddest shit I’ve ever seen,” The first one remarked.

Well he wasn’t wrong, but you couldn’t let him get any ground.

“Some people can’t help it,” You retorted.

“Well those people probably don’t have a chance to go out with the most attractive women they’ll ever see.”

You scowled, about to add fuel to the fire before your third friend cut you off.

“Think about it,” he chimed in, shifting the conversation away from an argument. “If she’s anything like you, she’ll probably want this whole thing over with as fast as you do.”

“Uh, huh…” You leaned back in your chair, tamed, but staring at the ceiling unconvinced. A girl like you? With how active the rest of the campus was, you found it hard to believe there was actually someone out there like you—someone cynical and uncomfortable with social gatherings of any form. 

To be clear, you didn't have poor social skills—in fact, you’d argue you had a certain way with words—you just avoided any chance to use them. You had a knack in discerning the smallest shift in someone’s expression, adjusting your tone, words and body language to suit.

But that knack was often overshadowed by an unshakable urge to assess, to weigh every syllable and gesture, scanning for the faintest sign of discomfort or misinterpretation.

This hyperawareness turned into a road-block for any conversation. Instead of letting the flow guide you, you’d find yourself scrutinising every word you said the instant it left your mouth, wondering if it had landed right, if it was too much or too little, or if you’d somehow veered into awkward territory.

The more you tried to keep things smooth, the more you’d find yourself caught in these spirals of self-correction, only to create the very awkwardness you’d been trying to avoid. 

So in the rare case you did end up at a social event, it was like you were playing a part. You stuck to the same few openings, the same practised routes for small talk.

There was nothing organic or genuine about the performance, nothing personal or meaningful. It was merely for show—a facade to keep up appearances.

It was all exhausting, and that’s what you had reiterated to your friends time and time again.

Regardless of your scepticism though, a strange part of you was actually a little curious. Not about the date itself—no, that was still a nightmare—but about this mysterious girl who apparently shared your introversions.

“Look, all we’re asking for is one night,” one pleaded, hands glued together as if he was in prayer. “One night! Just hang out with her for a couple hours while we chat up her friends, and you never have to do this again. You don’t have to see her again, talk to her again or anyone else if we ever ask.  We’ll owe you big time.”

“Seriously dude, we’ll pitch in for the PS5 Pro or something!” another added in further pleas.

You let out a long sigh, staring this time down at your desk. Not in a million years would you even consider buying that atrocious excuse for a cash grab, but the sentiment of your friends owing you that colossal amount was admittedly tempting.

And then there was this Winter girl. The one who was apparently as much of a hermit as you were. You couldn’t ignore that meeting her was happening during Christmas, the very time of year you tried to avoid going out the most. But you almost couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person she was, if she really was as closeted as you or just some exaggerated myth your friends had conjured up to lure you out.

It shouldn’t have, but just the idea of her tickled something deep in your brain, flooding your subconscious with various guesses of her character. 

Your mind conjured up an amalgamation of the most attractive women you had seen throughout your life; famous actresses and idols, the cute barista at the Starbucks down the road, that one girl at the airport who caught your eye but you never ended up talking to.  Their looks, personalities, whatever alluring details you could recall were being melted together and forged into what became your own expectation of Winter. 

You imagined a stunning slim and quiet girl—that much was obvious—with milky white hair, and fair complexion. They were traits all befitting of a girl named Winter. But in your mind something about her attitude, her facial expressions… they radiated… cold. It wasn’t unlike how you appeared to strangers—irrationally concealing your timid fear of interaction with a stiff stare and an emotionless face. As  you considered how similar your vision of her felt to you, it was strangely… warm…familiar. 

Within a matter of seconds, your apprehension had transformed to a hesitant desire to meet her. Or rather, this idea of her you had thrown together. 

You sat in a long silence, wrestling with your inner turmoil—your shameful, uncharacteristic urge to discover the truth about this girl. 

Seriously man? You asked yourself. There’s no way in hell she’d look anything like that if she was anything like you. 

Your asshole of a subconscious did have a point. 

But something about this tugged at you in a way you couldn’t help but notice. If this girl was like you, really like you, you had to know.

 “Alright,” you eventually grumbled, putting a hand over your face to suppress the oncoming wave of regret already washing over you. “I’ll go.”

Your friends erupted in cheers, high-fiving and dapping each other up like they had just won themselves a date with the hottest girls on campu–Oh.

“YES! You’re the man!” one of them yelled, giving you a ‘pat’ on the back that almost knocked you out of your chair.

"You won’t regret this!" another exclaimed, jabbing a finger toward you, though deep down, you already kind of did.

“FUCK YEAH!” the last one punched to the sky. “We owe you man,” smiling from ear-to-ear as cheers followed him out of your room.

As you hastily cleared the other two from your territory, you felt the dread settling in. One night, that’s all it was, you told yourself. Just one night with this girl named Winter, who was probably as opposed to this as you were.

What’s the worst that could happen?

---

Before you knew it, you were in your friend’s car, dressed in your Sunday’s best—which, admittedly, was a hastily thrown together fusion of your roommates’ closets.

An attempt had been made to make your less than desirable features appear at least mildly presentable to the outside world. Your hair had been styled with some expensive hair product you could barely pronounce, your caveman scent obscured by some B-list celebrity’s cologne, and your abhorrent posture—honed through years of agonising abuse to your spine—was being corrected by your friends’ frustrated hands what felt like every other second. 

They had half-jokingly, half-100%-seriously subjected you to some correction exercises over the past few days, few of which you actually bothered to attempt. Obviously, the few you had tried didn’t work, as your friend had stopped bothering to correct your posture himself, instead resorting to giving you a stinging slap every time your spine inevitably slumped from upright.

 The swelling of the handprint forming on your back had charitably distracted you from the metric-shit ton of adrenaline coursing through your veins. It caused your breathing to grow heavy and your heart to feel it was going to burst from your chest. A couple sleepless nights and a few too many hours of staring blankly at your PC monitor had transformed your strange curiosity for meeting Winter back into dread. 

You had moronically forgotten you actually had to talk to this girl for a couple hours instead of just confirming if she was similar to you.

Either you forced some kind of pitiful attempt at conversation with her—risking major embarrassment—or both of you succumb to sitting in introverted silence. 

Even if you could properly wrestle with overusing your little talent, the fact was, any attraction whatsoever to a girl caused you to fold like a cheap suit, rendering your ability useless. If Winter was any bit as alluring as your mind made her out to be it would be more than disastrous for you. It would be like every ounce of composure was swapped out for a hyperactive inner monologue—one that left you stumbling over your own thoughts.

As your friend’s car hummed along the bustling holiday streets, your mind continued to spin in overdrive almost as quickly as the neon red and green of the city's Christmas ornaments seemed to appear and disappear all around you. You aimed  to avoid risking any conversation that led to your humiliation, desperately mapping out the possible routes for conversation. This process was standard yet exhaustive at this point—your own RPG dialogue tree being mapped out in your mind.

"Hey, nice to meet you. How’s it going?"

"Fine."

[ No further options.]

You could already feel the weight of the dead-end conversation dragging the both of you down. That wasn’t going to work.

“So, what kind of stuff are you into?"

"Not much."

 [FAILED: Charisma check too low.]

Your mind projected you staring at the ceiling, desperately trying to find something, anything, to say while Winter twiddled her thumbs, wondering out loud with a groan,“Why did I even bother to show up.”

 What the fuck brain? That wasn’t helping your confidence at all.

“Hey, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

"Yeah, same."

[Neutral response. Proceed carefully.]

This felt promising. You could try pushing deeper, maybe ask a follow-up question, but you could already feel how you would screw it all up—one wrong word, one wrong look and kaput.

How about…

[Say Nothing.]

[No response.]

Yeah, that’s probably how it’s gonna go.

The car hit a bump in the road, and so did your only shred of confidence in this turning out well. You sighed quietly to yourself, senselessly running through these hypothetical scenarios in your head, frantically searching for the “good” dialogue option that simply wasn’t available to you.

There was no save scumming in real life, no charisma stat to help you bluff and charm your way through the whole thing, no getting lucky with your dice rolls either. It was just your limited social ability, a few thinly veiled attempts at small talk, and the faint hope that Winter might somehow be interested in having a conversation. It all reminded you why you avoided these kinds of situations in the first place…

You suck at them.

What felt like eternity with your own thoughts was soon interrupted as the car pulled up to the curb. You noticed the Christmas themed sign of the barbeque restaurant in the evening dusk. You stared at it, utterly terrified like it was signalling the entrance to some twisted version of hell—a place where your date, crowds of people, and the inevitable crushing embarrassment of being out of your element awaited—your hell. 

Your friends on the other hand were already pumped, talking over each other in excitement as they recounted for the hundredth time just how hot these girls they scored were. Meanwhile, you were still stuck somewhere between resignation and panic.

Their voices blended into background noise—drowned out by the mental gymnastics you were performing to figure out how to survive the next couple of hours. You hadn’t even walked into the restaurant yet, and you already felt like retreating into the comforting embrace of your bed sheets back home.

As you resolved to follow your friends inside you were instantly hit by a wall of warmth, thick with the smell of grilling meat and the hum of lively holiday celebrants. The restaurant was buzzing—waiters weaving between tables, the sizzling of meats echoing from grills, and laughter rippling across the room like a contagious wave. Already the ‘energy’ in here was too much for you, prompting you to  take a moment to adjust the atmosphere—all while your friends strode in like they owned the place. 

This was the kind of scene you’d typically steer clear of: crowded, chaotic, and packed with people who simply enjoyed the presence of others. The holiday season did nothing to ease your anxiety, doing its part to gather everyone together by filling every seat in the restaurant. You shoved your hands into the unfamiliar pockets of the jacket your friends threw on you, hyper aware of how out of place you felt.

 Your friends were greeted with warm smiles from the hostess—predictably, since they looked like they had just stepped off of the cover of Vogue magazine. Meanwhile, you were certain you looked like you’d rather be anywhere else.

She led you all to a private booth which was, thankfully, designated its own corner far away from the rest of the vivacious dynamic of the restaurant’s other patrons. Your relief didn’t last long though, as your heart leapt into your throat when you spotted four girls already sitting there. Three of them stood up to greet you, all endearing smiles, waves and the obligatory “Merry Christmas.”

Your fear was instantly frayed as the first girl began her introduction. Her name was Karina, and you were taken aback at how uncannily beautiful she was. In fact, it was almost unsettling how flawless she looked. It was like she had been engineered in a lab or generated by some AI algorithm designed to create the perfect face. Everything, right down to her sharp profile and unnaturally smooth skin was other-wordly perfect. A small mole dotted the edge of her chin, like an anchor tethering her otherwise impossibly symmetrical features to reality. She greeted your friends with a poised smile, but there was something behind her eyes—sharp, calculating, and trained on you—like she was sizing you up in particular.

But your mind paid that no attention as the next beauty introduced herself as Giselle—Her confident demeanour being the highlight for you. She moved with an ease that gave the impression she wasn’t fazed by anything or anyone. Her posture was relaxed, yet somehow commanding, exuding an energy that screamed, I’m hot, and I fuckin’ know it. The assertive eye contact she made with each of you as she introduced herself caused you to shrink back, almost out of respect for her authority. In contrast, her voice was steady and warm, but her eyes flicked back to Karina’s every so often, like the two of them were communicating without saying a word.

Then there was Ning Ning, who practically radiated excitement. Her lips curved into a smile that was bright and infectious, the kind that lit up her entire face. She greeted you all with a playful wave that bordered on adorable. Yet there was a switch in her—something in the way her expression shifted mid-conversation from lively and sweet to striking confidence—which could flip in an instant. She seemed to live in the moment though, completely detached from whatever silent exchange was happening between the other two. It was hard to tell if Ning Ning was more girl-next-door or temptress, and that fluidity made her all the more intriguing.

Your friends weren’t exaggerating. Each of them was stunning in their own way—like the kind of women you’d expect to see gracing the pages of a high-fashion magazine or as models strutting down a runway.

Yet, you couldn't help but notice the girl still seated at the inner end of the table, toying with her sleeves as the soft glow of her phone lit her face. Winter, you assumed. She didn’t stand, didn’t do so much as glance briefly at the four of you. But even in her stillness, she drew your attention. Her beauty wasn’t like Karina’s polished perfection or Giselle’s self-assured allure and most definitely not like Ning Ning’s bubbly charm. Winter appeared different—there was something so fundamentally distinct about her that interested you, piqued your curiosity when you thought you were infallible to such feelings. Regardless of what you heard about her, you found yourself encapsulated by nothing but her sheer beauty. 

As your eyes lingered on her you didn’t feel like you were looking at a person. Instead it was as if you were gazing upon the natural landmark of a frost-covered landscape—pure, serene, and silently breathtaking. It was as if she belonged more to the cold elegance of nature than to the warmth of human company. Her presence was subtle yet striking, like the clear, crisp air on a winter morning. The restaurant's soft, amber light caught her pale complexion in a way that made her seem almost ethereal, yet still grounded. Her silvery-white hair cascaded around her face like freshly fallen snow, soft and shimmering, as if her namesake itself had carefully crafted each strand to highlight her delicate features. Somehow, Winter lived up to that paradoxically beautiful expectation you had envisioned, but seeing her in person gave the impression she transcended it.

You stumbled through your own introduction to the rest of the girls, utterly captivated by what most people would consider a bad display of manners. Anybody in your shoes would have had their eyes glued to the trio of goddesses standing before you, but you could barely spare them a second—alright, a third glance. 

Predictably, the small talk that followed didn’t include you. Your friends however—more eager than you’ve ever seen them—quickly launched into banter with Karina, Giselle, and Ning Ning. Normally you would be in awe of how easy they made the whole thing look, but you could only half-listen, your thoughts and eyes constantly drifting toward Winter, who remained seated quietly at the end of the booth.

Eventually, Karina offered you all to sit, prompting one of your friends to shove you along to your side of the table. The little collision knocked you out of the fugue-like state you were in, drawing a quiet cry that caused laughter to erupt around you. Quickly realising that you’d be facing Winter, you hesitantly sat down, your eyes flicking back to her every now and then.

When she finally glanced your way, there was a brief pause, her cool eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, you were caught, held in the silence between you. Her gaze was steady, unwavering, but a hint of vulnerability showed itself as she studied you. Before you knew it, you were staring—completely absorbed by the depth in her eyes. They weren’t just cold or distant as you first thought—they were calm, almost reflective, like a still lake that hid something beneath its surface. The more you looked, the harder it became to pull yourself away.

Seconds passed—maybe more—and you didn’t even realise how long you’d been holding her gaze until your heart gave a sudden jolt, reminding you that you were looking at a person and not nature’s pièce de résistance. Embarrassment shot through you as you quickly broke eye contact, feeling a heat crawl up your neck.

“Winter, right?” Your voice came out much too casual, completely betraying the fact that you were just caught staring at her like an absolute buffoon. How did you already manage to mess this up?

Winter tilted her head ever so slightly, a small flicker of amusement ghosting over her lips before she nodded. She blinked more than once, her lashes fluttering to mask brief hesitation. Her gaze softened just slightly. “Yeah,” she replied simply. Her voice was soft, but clear. There was no hint of awkwardness or hesitation, but the slight shift in her posture, the way her fingers brushed the sleeve of her shirt said otherwise.

You nodded, you’d only asked one question and you already felt like your dialogue options were exhausted. But on the bright side, the mere fact she replied meant things were already going better than they did in your head.

The silence between you both stretched for a beat, then another. Neither of you spoke, but remarkably it felt like the words were there, waiting to be said. Winter’s fingers continued nervously with her sleeve, brushing the fabric in small, rhythmic strokes, while you found yourself looking at empty plates, the table—anything but her. Both of you seemed unsure of what to say next, letting you confidently conclude that she was indeed as nervous as you. You noticed her lips parting as if to speak, only to close again after a moment of hesitation. 

A few more seconds passed before you both spoke at once.

“So—”

“Did you—”

You stopped mid-sentence, catching her eye before you let out a quiet, awkward chuckle. “Uh, sorry. You go first.”

Winter looked down briefly, as if gathering herself. When she lifted her gaze again, there was a softness in her eyes, and a hint of vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. Her thumb brushed the edge of the table, tracing it gently as she glanced back at you. “They had to bribe you too?” She asked timidly, lightly gesturing to your friends who were engrossed with hers.

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, you could say that. It’s a whole mess, isn’t it?”

Winter nodded, her own smile flickering into existence, delicate but brief. Her voice softened as she admitted, ”These three promised me free food for a week just to get me to show up.” Winter scrunched her face, slanting her eyebrows in an attempt to scowl at them, but failed miserably, producing an adorable pout that was more endearing than anything else.

Your heart may as well have melted right there. 

You laughed softly, buying yourself time to regain your composure. From afar, she was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, but up close? When that cold, hard exterior began to fade, she doubled as the cutest too.

Your little chuckle successfully let you continue the eerily natural flow the two of you had going. “Mine offered to chip in for a game console.”

“So that’s what got you, huh?” Her eyes brightened with amusement, and for the first time, you saw her smile linger just a little longer. It wasn’t just her smile though. A slight accent softened the edges of her naturally sweet tone. Everything she said felt so easy on the ears, so digestible, and you—despite your scepticism and bitterness towards being here—found yourself hungry for more. Your friends would have called you a hypocrite, but in your defence, they both contributed to this perfect image that sat opposite you. You couldn't help but think it was the cutest sight you’d ever seen. 

Perhaps that’s what gave you the strength to say this next part.

“Well not exactly…” You trailed off, breaking eye contact as your fingers fidgeted nervously under the table. 

Winter tilted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow in anticipation like a puppy awaiting a command. God, how was everything she did so adorable?

You leaned in, still avoiding her gaze and turned your head slightly toward the wall, hoping the others wouldn’t overhear what you were about to say.

“I was uh…” You began, almost a whisper as the words struggled to leave your suddenly dry mouth.

This time Winter leaned in, meeting you at a distance a little too close for comfort.

“I was curious about you…”

Your words were like bullets, creating an embarrassing recoil that sent you hurtling back into the headrest, your gaze pointing straight down as a crimson flush seized the skin of your cheeks.

Your friends would have scoffed at how trivial that whole exchange seemed, all the while you felt like a timid middle schooler confessing to his crush. You managed to baffle yourself with your boldness, not daring to look up and see Winter’s reaction.

To your further surprise, your little self-conscious introspection was interrupted by a giggle. Not just any giggle. Winter’s giggle.

You looked up to meet her face—equally as rosy as yours. But in place of your distraught expression was Winter, giggling like a child on a sugar-high. Her laughter was light and melodic, bubbling up like it couldn’t be contained. She leant back covering her open mouth with her hand. Her whole face had lit up, it was the kind of laugh that crinkled her eyes and shook her shoulders ever so slightly. It wasn’t just the sound, though—it was the way she smiled from ear to ear, so unguarded and genuine, a welcome contrast to the shy and distant she showed otherwise.

You lied earlier. This was the cutest thing you’d ever seen.

At first, you were confused by her sudden outburst, but as the infectious warmth of her laughter sunk in, a mutual smile spread across your face. The tension you’d been holding onto for several days seemed to melt away with each lingering note of her laugh. You honestly had no idea what she found so funny, but in the moment, you were just happy to go along with it, confident that you were doing at least something right.

Your friends, noticing her giggling, shared amused glances but didn’t interrupt. From the way they were staring, they were just as surprised as you were at how well this was going. They all held an expression that confessed we didn’t know you had it in you.

Ning Ning too giggled under her breath, playfully nudging Giselle. “Look at that—actual progress,” she muttered teasingly, her tone dripping with mock disbelief.

Karina though, was different. She subtly monitored the interaction, her sharp gaze softened now, intrigued by how Winter was opening up. It felt like she approved though, commending you in getting Winter out of her shell. She stayed silent though, still content to just observe.

Winter’s adorable outburst slowly ebbed, her shoulders still shaking slightly as she tried to catch her breath. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, an adorable mix of bashfulness and amusement colouring her features.

“So…” she began meekly, eyes flickering down before meeting yours again. “Do I live up to your expectations?” Her tone was soft, tentative, as if she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer.

You were caught off guard by Winter’s own intrepid addition to your conversation, feeling your face heat up as you struggled to find the right words. 

I—well…” You exhaled, trying to pull together the honesty that was suddenly a challenge to articulate in her presence. “You’re not what I expected,” you admitted, a gentle smile finding its way onto your face. “I don’t think I could’ve pictured someone quite like you, even if I’d tried.” 

The sudden spark of vulnerability in Winter’s expression tugged at something in you. You realised your answer might’ve sounded too cryptic, maybe even evasive. The faint quiver of her brow and roll of her Adam's apple told you she wasn’t sure how to take that.

You cleared your throat, glancing up at her cautiously as you explained, “I mean that in a good way!” Winter had a beauty that seemed too obvious, too stunning to need validation, yet you couldn’t help but want to say it aloud. “I thought you’d be stunning and well…you are.” Winter turned away sharply, hiding her flushing face with a hand. “I just thought that you’d be a lot more.. distant. But meeting you here, seeing you laugh and smile…” you were thinking of an eloquent way to put this, but you found yourself beholden to the truth right now. 

Winter was having this… effect on you. You weren’t one to ‘open up’ or ‘talk about their feelings’ and yet you felt compelled to here. “Seeing you laugh and smile… I can’t help but think it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” You had no idea where this newfound confidence was coming from, but you had a sneaking suspicion it was spurred on from what you’d just described.

Winter’s cheeks deepened from a soft pink to a vibrant flush, and she let out a shaky breath. Her fingers lingered over her features, like she was trying to shield herself from the intensity of the moment. Her eyes darted back to you and the delicate gleam in her gaze made your heart skip. 

“Really?” she murmured, her voice barely audible, as though she feared saying anything louder might shatter the fragile honesty between you. She dropped her hand from her coloured cheeks, her eyes tracing your face for confirmation. “You really think that?”

You nodded, the sincerity in your gaze unwavering. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” You chuckled softly, hoping to lighten the air. 

Winter’s shoulders began to relax, she herself not realising that they were glued to her neck. Her face remained flushed, but the tightness in her posture had vanished, leaving her more relaxed and open in how she sat.

“Thank you…” she let out. Her voice remained soft, but they certainly carried more weight.

“I’ll admit I’m surprised too…” She hesitated, glancing away, lips curving into a soft smile. “I thought you’d be just like everyone else…” You listened attentively, holding her gaze while she spoke tenderly, honestly.

“So I didn’t expect you to be…well, this easy to talk to,” she admitted, rubbing up her arm. “You don’t feel like everyone else, all practised lines and smooth talking,” she let out a faint chuckle. “ You make mistakes, you slip up. You’re like me. And um… cute too.” It was your turn to look away, your own cheeks starting to heat up. “So there’s something really nice about that...”

 You pinched yourself under the table. This was going too well for you. This had to be a dream.

“I’m glad you think that,” you told her with a smile. Your voice was lower and steadier than you’d expected, though a trace of disbelief lingered beneath your words. Because, truthfully, you could never have imagined this going so well—not in a million lifetimes. 

To your absolute delight, Winter sent you another wide smile. You didn’t think it could get much wider, but somehow she pulled it off.

You hadn’t realised it till she brought it up, but with Winter, you didn’t need to use those memorised openers or routes. She enticed you in such a way that just encouraged you to just… be you. Everywhere else you went you always felt an expectation to act like everyone else, to sound like them. But in the short time you’ve been around Winter, you hadn’t felt that at all. Was it because you two were similar? 

“So,” You began, searching for your answer. “I take it you’re not a big fan of all this?” You gestured to the six other residents of the table, and by extension the rest of the restaurant.

Winter raised an eyebrow, leaning back into her chair.  She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs under the table, almost like she was trying to ground herself. “More or less. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate people... I just like my space, y’know? Too much noise, too many people... it feels like I’m in the wrong place.” She paused, glancing briefly at the rest of the table. “But you get it, right?”

“More than I care to admit,” you replied with a sigh, feeling some strange sense of relief wash over you. “It’s exhausting. I never know what to say, or how to keep up.”

Winter’s lips curved upward again, knowingly. She seemed to relax even more, sinking into the conversation as much as she did her seat. "Exactly. It always feels like everyone has these… scripts. Like they know exactly what to say and when to say it." She gestured lightly toward your friends, still engrossed in their own lively conversations. "But it’s… difficult. It’s all tiring,” She confessed with a little pout. “It doesn't feel natural or genuine to me, it feels like I'm… like I'm…”

“Like you’re playing a character,” you finished, taking the words right out of her mouth.

Her eyes widened a fraction, a glimmer of recognition passing through them. “Exactly!” she rejoiced. A quiet laugh escaped her, one that sounded relieved. “All our friends can happily be themselves, but we’re stuck acting like someone else.”

As Winter continued, you noticed a subtle shift in the way she spoke. It wasn’t just about her anymore—she was talking about the both of you. There was something comforting about the fact that she felt like you were in this together, like she saw a bit of herself in you. You weren’t just sharing a conversation anymore—it was an understanding. 

You nodded, staring into her opulent orbs as if she were a reflection of yourself.

But before either of you could say more, Karina’s voice cut through the air, pulling you both back into reality.

“Hey, are you two lovebirds ready to order?” she teased.

You blinked and glanced around, realising that everyone else had been staring at you—impatient, but knowing smiles all around. Even the waiter at the head of your table, pen poised and all, gave you a subtle, approving nod. 

“Oh, uh…” You stammered, feeling a rush of heat crawl up your neck. You turned to glance at Winter, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you. Her eyes, wide and glimmering, were so close that you could see the subtle flecks of silver and blue swirling within them. The space between you was almost nonexistent; you were close enough that you could feel the warmth of her breath, your noses almost grazing. Wait, what? The realisation hit you both at once, and in an instant, you jolted back into your seat, wide-eyed and startled, your heart pounding from the unexpected proximity.

Winter did the same, recoiling sharply and causing a small tremble in the table. Her face flushed a deep, rosy pink, the sudden burst of colour creeping from her cheeks down to her neck. 

“I’ll have the—”

“Could I have—”

 You both started at once, then stopped, exchanging an awkward, embarrassed laugh. You gave a little nod, gesturing for her to go first. 

“ I’ll have the…” 

Winter’s voice trailed off as she scanned the menu in a hurry, cheeks still rosy. She managed to mumble her order, then you fumbled your way through yours right after, both of you clearly rattled but trying to play it cool.

As the waiter left the table, a heavy silence settled over you and Winter. The energy from before—where genuine laughter and soft words had filled the space between you two—seemed to have dissipated. Now, you found yourself unable to speak, the memory of that fleeting, close encounter hanging thickly in the air, making it difficult to breathe. It rendered thinking of something to say practically impossible.

You glanced at Winter, only to find her just as quiet. She was staring at the menu again, though you knew she wasn’t really reading it. Her fingers brushed along the page absentmindedly, putting in no effort whatsoever to make her rapid flicking believable. Every so often, her eyes would dart toward you, only to quickly return to the menu the second she thought you might notice.

Despite the tension, a sense of relief came over you. The silence gave you an opportunity to collect yourself, to push back the storm of emotions swirling around inside you. You sank a little further into your chair, quietly thankful for the momentary ceasefire. 

Your mind wandered to all those couples who roamed the city streets—it was the bitter truth that you wouldn’t fit in as one of them. The way you’d always seen yourself didn’t align with how those people acted: smiling and talking for what felt like forever. For years on end you considered yourself emotionally unavailable, selfish with any time you had.  Yet, here you were, sitting across from Winter, someone who was...different. Someone who made you feel like, maybe—just maybe—you were capable of being one of those couples.

You shook your head slightly, dismissing the thought as quickly as it came. No, that kind of thing didn’t happen to people like you. You were reading too much into it, weren’t you? It had to be just the heat of the moment, the proximity playing tricks on your mind. The sincerity in her gaze, the warmth of her breath—it was just...well, it was nothing, really.

But then why was your heart still racing?

Winter shifted slightly in her seat, her eyes still trained on the menu. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but stopped herself, the words catching before they had a chance to escape. You could almost feel her nerves mirrored in your own chest.

You too thought about saying something—anything—to break the silence, but every possible word felt clumsy in your mind. You were far too embarrassed to speak up, but at the same time, you wanted to recover the soft energy that radiated between the two of you—the thrill of a conversation where you felt at ease, where you could be you. 

"Sorry, about… uh, that," you forced out, sending her a sheepish smile. “I didn’t mean to make things weird.” There was no reason for you to take responsibility, but you assumed it would ease her if she was absolved of fault. After all, it would have eased you.

Winter shook her head quickly, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “Trust me, if anyone made things weird, it was me.” You couldn't help but laugh—she was trying to do the exact same thing.

“Don’t worry about it, Winter,” you assured, her name slipping out instinctively.

There was a shift in her posture as her name escaped your lips, subtle but noticeable. She uncrossed her legs under the table and leaned forward ever so slightly, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her sleeve again. She seemed on the verge of saying something important. You could sense it in the way she glanced at you—anxious eyes, cheeks flushing scarlet.

Her lips pressed together for a moment, then softened as if she’d finally made up her mind. Her eyes met yours, letting you peer into that reflective lake once again. But this time, you could almost make out what was below— she was letting down a wall, one you’d wager few have ever seen behind.

 She took a breath, her chest rising and falling with a quiet resolve, and then, in almost a whisper she spoke.

 “Please. Call me Minjeong.” 

The simplicity of the words didn’t match the weight they carried. There was something so incredibly personal in her request, something that felt like a secret being shared between just the two of you. Her gaze stayed locked on yours, as if waiting to see how you’d react, her vulnerability laid bare.

“M-Minjeong,” you stuttered delicately, the name feeling both foreign and intimate on your tongue, like you were stepping into a space no one else had been invited to. 

Minjeong’s expression softened even more, a glimmer of relief flashing across her eyes. She let out a breath, one she seemed to have been holding in anticipation of your response. A curve played across her lips. It was pure, unguarded. You almost could see the warmth radiating off of her, like this simple act of you saying her name had drawn you two closer.

“I— I like the way you say it,” she confessed quietly.  Her voice was shy, as if she wasn’t used to hearing her own name spoken aloud.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, unsure of how to respond but feeling the gravity of the moment pull you deeper into her orbit. The vulnerability in her tone, the way her eyes softened when she looked at you, made everything feel so surreal. You had no idea what to say next, your mind scrambling for the right words, but none seemed enough.

Multiple pairs of eyes fell on you from around the table, but neither you nor Minjeong were in the right state to acknowledge it. As far as you were both concerned, you two were the only people on Earth right now.

Before you could manage a reply, Minjeong spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “Most people just call me Winter. It’s easier for me… less personal.” She glanced down at the table, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the edge of her sleeve. “But I dunno…” She trailed off. “Minjeong feels right with you.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and meaningful, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were seeing something fragile. It was like she was giving you a piece of herself, trusting you to hold it gently.

“Minjeong,” you repeated, this time more certain. “It’s a beautiful name.”

She met your gaze again, her eyes shining with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “Thanks,” she murmured, a shy smile tugging at her lips, but this time, there was no hesitation in the way she looked at you. No walls, no pretence. Just Minjeong, in all her quiet, ethereal beauty.

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest, the kind you hadn’t experienced in years. It was like being a teen again, that rush of excitement and nervous energy coursing through you—the way it used to when you’d catch your crush’s eye across the room and feel your heart race. But this was different—it was deeper. As you sat there, looking at Minjeong, you realised it wasn’t just her beauty or the way she had let you in. It was the feeling she stirred in you, something you thought you’d long forgotten. She wasn’t just someone who caught your eye—she made you feel alive again. Like you were rediscovering that fluttery, intoxicating rush from your youth, but unlike then it wasn’t fleeting. There was a quality to it that you just couldn’t articulate—your years of social isolation, your unending cynicism towards basic human emotion left you that way. 

But you tried, tried to put a label on this unfamiliar feeling. You searched your mind for a word, a description, anything that could encompass what was building in your chest, but nothing came close. It was a bewildering sensation that refused to fit into the neat definitions you knew.

The tension in your mind dissipated the moment the waiter brought the food, and you watched as everyone’s attention turned to their meals. The table filled with idle chatter and silverware scraping against plates, grounding you back to the present. You took a steadying breath, grateful for the pause and the warmth of the meal as it cut through the delicate web that had woven itself between you and Minjeong.

Still, you couldn’t help but notice her in the little pauses and movements—the way her eyes sparkled with each glance around the table, her small, quiet smile at each bite. Even now, Minjeong’s presence felt magnetic, she occupied her space without demanding it, a rare grace that felt refreshing. Each time she looked up, she met your eyes with a soft, almost bashful smile that sent an echo of warmth through you. It made you want to reach out, to learn more, to let her know how much she’d already begun to matter to you.

The conversation around the table grew louder, but your own exchange with Minjeong stayed quiet and gentle. You spoke in low tones, sharing snippets about each other’s lives. Every glance, every subtle word between you seemed to deepen the quiet understanding you shared. Gone was your lacking composure, the insatiable need to assess and please. Your exchange with Minjeong felt like a safe space, a judgement-free zone to be yourself in public. You’d explain to her all your nerdy hobbies, and she would listen with genuine attentiveness, her eyes adorably lighting up when you’d find something else in common. In return, you found yourself hanging onto every word she offered back, falling deeper and deeper into the conversation as she opened herself up to you

And when there were lulls—as there inevitably were between introverts such as the two of you—you both found comfort even in the silence. It was strange, feeling so drawn to someone you had known for only a few hours. The part of you that usually resisted connections seemed to fall silent in her presence. And as she leaned in closer to share an amused thought, her fingers playing absently at the edge of her napkin, you felt something within you shift.

What was this feeling, exactly? You had tried to put it into words, only to come up empty. You were someone who could gauge how a person was feeling from body language alone, like you could measure and judge everything they felt. But when it came to yourself—your feelings, your emotions—you came up short. 

But as the evening wore on and the rest of the table grew quieter, you found yourself looking at Minjeong with a soft certainty. From the way Minjeong looked at you, you got the impression she was struggling with the same dilemma. But you didn’t need to name this undefined feeling that stirred in you. Every shared glance, every smile that lingered a beat too long—these were all the words you needed. There was an understanding—unspoken yet undeniable—that whatever this was, it was real. And in that moment, with the quiet warmth shared between you two, it was enough.

---

You emerged from the restaurant, taking in the brisk air of the Christmas evening. Typically, retreating back into the bustling street was your first step in your retreat to the solitary comfort of your dorm room. It let you breathe a sigh of relief for escaping whatever social event you had been forced into. 

But tonight? Tonight your steps were unhurried, in fact you felt the urge to linger. Tonight, Minjeong was by your side, her soft smile mirroring your own. The breath you let go this time was instead a remorseful one, a signal that your time together was almost over. Of course as much as she looked the part, the girl before you wasn’t some unreachable, otherworldly angel—she was real, and very much contactable. 

You both watched from afar as your friends exchanged phone numbers with Karina, Giselle and Ning Ning. On any other day, you would have looked on in unspoken envy,but alas, tonight was different. You stared at the new contact sitting in your phone—a beautiful name befitting of an equally beautiful woman, punctuated by two snowflakes either side of it. 

“Minjeong,” it read. Simple, familiar now, but it held a weight you’d never thought a name could carry.

You grinned, feeling a warmth unlike any the night’s chill could steal away. The white-haired girl handed your phone back to you, sending a sincere smirk your way. 

��Make sure to call me, okay?” 

Her tone was light and gentle, but her eyes were serious, like this meant more to her than anything else.

“Of course,” you assured. There was nothing in this world that could make you shatter the joy reflected in that smile.

Without warning, she stepped forward, instantly closing the distance between you.  Her arms wrapped around you—warm, gentle and tentative. For a moment, you were too stunned to react, but the heat of her body—which was now flush to yours—quelled any concern.  Instinctively, your arms folded around her, drawing her closer, absorbing her presence. The soft scent of her hair drifted up to you, and you felt her heartbeat against your own.

“Thank you for tonight.” She whispered, her soft voice muffled by your chest.

You didn’t know how long you two were standing there, pressed together as one, but in the moment it didn’t matter. When she finally pulled away, you saw her face, beaming like the sun shines.

“Have a wonderful night,” she said, her cheeks flushed, mirroring the festive glow of the streets around you.

“It already has been,” you replied, your heart full as you returned a gentle, loving smile.

Love. You chuckled. 

Maybe that’s what this was.

---

If you got here thank you much for reading my first ever fic! I know there's a lot of filler here which could very easily be removed, but I really just wanted to keep everything I'd written. In the future, I'll make sure everything's more streamlined.

But apart from that I'd love for some constructive criticism. Thanks again!

[irisinluv]

Yandere x Time Traveler Reader

You could recite the rules by memory if you had to. You were read them before each and every time jump. The most important being- don’t do anything to alter the course of history, don’t let anyone know about time travel, and don’t stay longer than necessary. There’s a slew of other minute details to the rule book, time traveling is a delicate business after all. But you love your job, and you understand how important your work is. You see, history records are often sloppy. We do our best to put things together with old newspapers, books, and the occasional photo, but what if you could go back and meticulously record everything the exact way it was?

Well, historians realized they could utilize time travel to observe and document historic events and time periods. That’s where you come in. You are a field agent- dressed in time appropriate clothes, practiced in period accurate slang and culture, armed with a backstory, and ready to jump back in time to learn the things time has forgot.

You’ve done countless runs before, and this one is no different. Go in. Learn everything you can, and then get the hell out. You don’t stay more than a week, and whatever you do, you stick to your company drafted backstory if anyone ask. So, with this in mind, you wave to your team, and step back in time.

The 1920s proved to be more colorful than you’d imagined. Sure you knew not everything was in black and white… but you expected things to be a bit more drab. The streets were busy with old timey cars in each of the primary colors, women bustled down the streets in loose, boxy dresses with gorgeous patterns. You took note that maybe the 20s were onto something when you noticed the high waisted pants all the men seemed to be wearing. You’d certainly be recommending these slutty little numbers make a comeback.

Taking in all these details, you took a moment to enjoy being a tourist in a new time. This was your favorite part of the job- constantly exploring. You loved the freedom you had. Granted you had your rules, but you could go anywhere. Any time. It was fantastic. Ducking into a cafe, you took a second to inspect the menu before ordering, and taking a seat at a booth. You began people watching as you sipped your drink, taking mental notes of everything and anything that you could jot down later. Suddenly, you’re interrupted from your observations as someone slid into the seat across from you in the booth.

Sawyer saw you order and sit down, and was fascinated by you. You carried yourself differently than anyone he’d seen before, with a natural ease and confidence, yet he could see your eyes assessing everything around you with a slight hint of wonder that made him wonder what those eyes would say if they looked his way. After observing you for several minutes, Sawyer made his move.

You couldn’t help but feel comfortable about the man who slid into your booth and started chatting with you. It wasn’t against the rules to talk with people like this- it was often crucial in fact. As long as you didn’t do anything drastic like save or end their life, convince them of some major course of action, etc…. It often paid to have a friend in an unfamiliar time. So when Sawyer asked you if you had plans this evening…. You had told him you were free.

Now it’s a quarter to 6 and he’s picking you up at the hotel you’d arranged earlier in the day. You had a change of clothes already packed for the occasion, and were buzzing to see inside a real speakeasy during prohibition. Sawyer was prompt in picking you up, and it was only a short walk to a back door of a building. He was ushered inside and soon the two of you were sitting together, leaning close to speak as you sipped (rather horrible) watered down drinks.

You kept to your story- you were traveling from the countryside, and would be in town for the next week. Sawyer noticed, however, how much you steered the conversation away from yourself. You did so skillfully and he had to admire that, but you were secretive none the less. Of course, this only served to further fascinate the man. What was originally just a little crush began to turn into a burning need to know more. What were those calculating eyes of yours thinking? Why did you take everything in with such wonder, like you were committing every detail to memory? He had to know.

For the next several days, Sawyer acted as your guide through the city, showing you clubs and shows and the best places to eat. You found yourself genuinely enjoying his company, and it wasn’t hard to tell he greatly enjoyed yours- showing up first thing each morning to escort you on another adventure. You realized you needed to begin distancing yourself from him, however, as he was pressing you for more details about yourself, and was expertly dodging your attempts at redirection. So, with only a few days left before you had to return, you switched hotels. Went to a different part of town, and began looking into the affairs of a few businesses. You needed to round out your research more anyways.

Sawyer arrived at his usual time, only to find you gone. The hotel attendant explained you’d checked out early, and left no explanation. Sawyers heart stopped. You were the love of his life. He knows it’s sudden, and stupid, he hardly knows you…. But at the same time he feels like he knows you better than anyone else alive. In the few days you’d spent together he’d taken in every little detail about you. He could tell when you were excited or disgusted just by the way your nose twitched. He knew your food preferences, knew how to make you laugh, and just felt like he knew you on a soul deep level…. But you were gone. You’d left him….

You were taking note of the stock in a grocery store a few days later when Sawyer finally saw you. He didn’t approach, instead, followed you back to your hotel. He watched you through a sliver in the curtains as you pulled out a pad of paper and began writing. He watched until you fell asleep, and then slowly crept in through the window. He gently picked up the notepad, only to furrow his brows, confused. You were…. Taking note of the style of labels on soup cans, and the price stickers used? He looked around the room and saw a few other note pads, gently placing the one he’d grabbed back next to your sleeping form, he began snooping through the rest of your notes. You had pages and pages written about what you’d observed, meticulous notes littered with your own commentary and thoughts. And that’s when Sawyer realized the truth. He didn’t have all the details- but he knew you were from the future. You were from the future, and you’d be leaving him in less than 24 hours.

He knew he had to act. He found the small device you would use to return home- it was disguised as a watch, and tucked away inside one of your luggage bags. Holding the small object in his hand, he came up with a plan. Shooting one last look to your sleeping form, he made sure everything was as you left it, aside from your watch, which he slipped in his pocket, and then crept back outside.

The next day, you hustled to finish investigating the last few things your colleagues were interested in. You were walking down the road when you heard a familiar voice call out. Closing your eyes and letting out a soft curse, you turned to see Sawyer racing towards you with a grin.

“Hey! There you are! When they told me you’d checked out a few days ago I’d assumed you left! Glad I found you though! Did you lose a watch by any chance? I found it in the pocket of that coat you borrowed after the theater, it’s small and gold with some swirling patterns carved into it?”

Your eyes widened…. That was your ticket home. How the hell did you not notice it was gone?? You thank him profusely for finding it, and tell him that yes, it’s yours! He clarifies,

“It’s back at my place, I didn’t think I’d run into you so I wasn’t carrying with me. If you’d like, you can swing by my house with me and pick it up?”

Of course you readily agree- after all, you need to leave in a few hours, and seeing inside his house would be great for your research. So, you agree to go home with him. I mean you only had a few hours left. Saying goodbye for real this time wouldn’t hurt.

Sawyers breath catches as you step inside his house. Why does this seem so natural? So perfect? You, fingers lightly tracing the wood banister as you take it all it. You, turning to look where he stands in the entryway - God, he can imagine coming home from work, with you greeting him with a smile just like this. The only thing missing is a kiss. He blinks out of it as he realizes you’re asking about your watch.

“Oh, yes, of course! It’s just down here, follow me!”

He leads you downstairs to a partially finished basement. Partially finished is a loose term. It’s a usable area at least, a workbench in once corner, and minimal boxes cluttering the space. Instead, it’s relatively clean, there’s a few chairs and a couch set up. Far from a living space, but it’s certainly functional. You’re taking all this in when suddenly you’re pulled back wards, stumbling into a chair. Ropes are wound around your midsection, pinning your arms and torso to a chair. You cry out and squirm but he’s surprisingly fast and strong,wrangling your kicking feet until they’re tied to the chair legs. Soon, you’re securely bound to the chair, and he didn’t even have to knock you out. He finds it kind of adorable how easily he overpowered you if he’s being honest.

You cry out and ask him what he’s doing, demand he lets you go! But he only produces your watch from his pocket, and stares at it with curious eyes.

“So, this little thing is your ticket back, hm? I wonder what it’s like- your world. Your time….”

Your eyes grow wide. He knows. He knows you’re not from this time period. That’s breaking one of the most important rules. This in itself could have irreparable consequences to the course of history… what if he decides to use it? Decides to travel through time, un-trained, causing chaos!?

“Please! You have no idea the consequences this will have! You can’t use it! Please- there’s a way things have to be done, you could permanently alter the course of human history with the littlest misstep! The future depends on you letting me go and giving me that watch back!”

He steps closer to you and gently strokes your cheek, realizing you don’t get it. You think you’re tied up because he’s interested in the time traveling. You think he’s going to misuse it. Silly you. He’s not interested in traveling through time.

“Darling… come now. There’s no need to worry. I’m not going to use your watch.”

Your gaze turns confused as you look up at him, and he adores watching your eyes as you try to puzzle your way through this one. He takes pity on you and leans forward to press a kiss to your lips.

And then you watch as he drops and crushes your way home beneath his boot.

“The only future I’m interested in…. Is ours.”

[quintinh43]

Heavy Heads and Heavy Hearts | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn gets injured as a game. His girlfriend takes him and cares for him.

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, Head injury, food, angst, mentions of vomiting (no actual vomiting)

Notes: Hi guyss! Hope everyone is doing ok! Injured Quinn got the most votes, so here we are! This one is the longest one ive done so far, I definitely did not mean for it to be as long as it is but here we are. Also, im not a professionl in any way, so i cant say this is concussion accurate. I just went off of my experience in dealing with athletes that have Concussions, and my own Concussions lol. Anywaysss I hope yall enjoy. Love Soph.

---

There was something so gut-wrenching about watching the man you love get injured. One second, Quinn was cutting quickly around the back of the net, and the next, he was getting slammed into the boards hard. It was nothing. You get hit, you get up, and you keep going. It was simply a part of hockey.

Except this time, Quinn wasn't getting up. He wasn't moving at all. You stand up, heart in your throat. The room feels like it's tilting. The sharp shrill of the refs whistle cut through the air, stopping the play as the refs skate over to where Quinn is lying motionless on the ice.

They are calling for medics. Your head is spinning with the worst possible scenarios as you excuse yourself from your seat and practically sprint to the locker room. One of the security members holds out a hand to stop you.

"Ma'am, you can't be here, please exit this area"

Great. Just fucking great. This is exactly what you need right now. The overwhelming need that aches in your bones demanding to know that Quinn is ok makes you want to cry. Because now this fucker won't let you through. And you're nearly too panicked to do anything about it.

The logical route would be pulling out Quinns wallet, that has his ID in it, and explaining that you are his girlfriend. But with your anxiety high, and your heart in your throat logic is not the first thing on your mind.

"Listen buddy," you start, ready to absolutely rip this guy a new one. Thankfully for him, one of the trainers who knows you happens to be exiting the locker room.

"Let her through, Jace, that's Hughes' girl" he says, waving you forward. The security guard- Jace apparently, lets you pass with a grumble.

By the time you get rink side, Quinn is (half) conscious- thank God, and being half carried off the ice by Petey and Boeser. He's transfered to the care of two medics, who sit him on a bench and begin to check him over.

One of them is asking him questions gently, both to keep him awake and assess the damage to his head. While the other stabilizes his neck. "Can you tell me your full name and today's date?" One of the medics asks.

"Quintin Jerome Hughes," he slurs, eyes fluttering, "its Feb'uary... twenty-second, twenty-twenty-four"

Your breath hitches. He got the date wrong. You can't help the panic that rushes through you. "Good job Quinn, do you know where you are?"

"Van, Roger's arena," he mumbles, "playing hockey"

"Good," the medic hums. "we need to take off your equipment to make sure you aren't injured anywhere else. Is that ok?"

"Y/n" he mumbles, eyes closing and head tilting forward, his head snapped back up a moment later, and if the other medic hadn't had his head stabilized he would probably have mild whiplash.

"Stay awake for us, Quinn. Is Y/n someone you'd like us to call?"

You spring forward at the mention of your name, "I'm here," you say, pushing past a couple of people who are standing around, ready to assist if the situation gets worse.

"My girl" Quinn slurs, his lips tilting into a small smile. Your heart flutters at that. In the midst of his delirium, he still cares about you dearly.

"Hello Y/n, I'm Sam," the guy who's been asking him questions, "and that's Kieran," he says, nudging his head towards Kieran, who gives a small smile.

"Do you think you could help us remove his equipment?"

"Yes absolutely, just tell me what to do" you say, glad that you can help.

"Can you remove his jersey and shoulder pads? Kieran needs to keep his neck stable, and I need to check for any other possible injuries. And keep him talking"

"Yeah, of course," you start by bending his elbow to slide it out of the sleeve of his jersey.

"Hey Quinny" you say softly, sliding his other arm out of his jersey "you played really really good today, I'm so proud of you"

"Thanks baby," he murmers, "glad you're here." He tries to lean his head against your chest, he huffs when Kieran doesn't let him, and you can't help but let out a breathy laugh, patting his head lovingly.

Kieran tilts his head to one side, allowing you to pull the jersey over his head. You deposit it in his cubby behind him and make quick work undoing his shoulder pads and pulling them off gently.

"I'm glad I'm here too. What do you wanna eat when we get home?"

Sam gently asks you to move out of the way so he can check Quinns upper body for injuries. The second you aren't doing something, the anxiety rises back to your chest. You take a deep breath and begin to unlace his skates. You pull them off, slipping a pair of slides on his feet so his socks don't get wet.

"Hmm" he hums in thought "potatos...?"

You laugh, "Alright Quinny. We'll have potatos"

Finally after palpating his whole body to make sure he doesn't have any other major injuries, testing his reflexes, and asking him a bunch more questions. They diagnose him with a minor concussion, and give you a list of things to look out for.

They deem it safe enough to leave you alone with him for a little bit and tell you to change him into something more comfortable. It takes a bit of work to take off his hockey pants and shinguards and get him into a pair of sweats and a hoodie.

By the time you're done, the equipment manager and the medics have collected the rest of his equipment. After making sure his hockey bag is fully packed with everything, you grab his keys from your purse, while the EM helps you bring his bag to his car, and the medic helps you half carry him down.

He can mostly walk on his own, but better safe than sorry. On the ride home he keeps his head resting against the window, a cool compress is wrapped around his neck, and he's holding one over his eyes with one hand, while the other holds yours tightly.

You trace your thumb over the backs of his knuckles soothingly and keep him talking the whole way home. "What kind of potatoes do you want when we get home, Hon?"

"Can I change my mind?" He asks sheepishly. He's still talking very quietly and slurring his words a little, but the medics said that was nothing to worry about unless he started getting worse. So far, it was nothing to worry about.

"Of course my love, anything you want" you bring your intertwined hands to rest on your chest. It's a comforting weight over your heart, that you didn't know you needed until it was there.

Your phone lights up from the cup holder, it's a text from Petey, saying that the Canucks won the game. There are a few other texts, from his parents and brothers. You make a mental note to reply to them as soon as you get Quinn settled at home.

"Can we have noodles?" He mumbles.

"Yes, of course, love." You can't help but kiss the back of his knuckles. Watching Quinn get injured to the point of losing consciousness was not something you ever wanted to experience ever again.

"Your boys won, by the way," you say softly.

"The did?!" Quinns head shoots up front the window, and he is filled with instant regret as a sharp twinge shoots down his neck and to his shoulder.

"Ow fuck" he mumbles, laying his head back against the cool window.

"Careful love," you gasp, squeezing his hand.

"I know, I'm sorry," he mumbles, squeezing your hand back. You sigh, you have been on edge since he got injured, and it didn't look like the anxiety would dissipate for a while. You would just have to deal with it and try not to be an over bearing worry wart.

"You guys won 5-2" you smile, finally pulling into your apartment parking lot.

"I didn't do much except get my brains knocked around" he grumbles. "Some captain I am"

You scoff, flicking him in the nose lightly. "Don't sell yourself short, Quinny. Three of those points are yours."

Quinn wrinkles his nose and leans forward to bite your finger. You yelp, snatching it away with a glare. He sticks his tongue out at you, and you laugh, your chest feeling a little lighter than before.

"Come on, let's get you upstairs. " You say, undoing your seat belt and getting out of the car. You run around to his passenger side and open the door for him, and help him step out of the car. He throws an arm over your shoulder, and you wrap one around his waist. He's not as wobbly on his feet as he was earlier, but he still isn't at full strength.

Quinn squeezes his eyes shut and tucks his face against your hair. The florescent elevator lights were not pleasant in his state. "Can we keep the apartment lights off?" He mumbles against your hair.

"Sure love," you said rubbing your hand up and down his back soothingly, "we're almost home," you fish the keys out of your purse and unlock it. You toe your shoes off at the door while Quinn slips his off easily and you guide him to the couch.

"What do you want first, baby? Food or a shower?"

"I'm not really hungry" Quinn mumbles, laying on the couch and adjusting the ice pack under his neck. You sit on the couch handle, stroking his hair back from his forehead. "I know honey, but we should try to get something light in your system, if you're feeling upto it."

Quinn sighs. He knows you're right. "I can make you toast? Or a sandwich or something?" You offer, smoothing your thumb over his hairline.

"Do we have bagles?" He asks

"Yeah, we have bagles, I'll make you one of those?"

"Yes please," he mumbles, you plant a kiss on his forehead and go pop a bagle into the toaster, "can you do it with cream cheese and jam?" He asks, chewing on his lip nervously.

"Sure, Hon, I'm gonna make myself some tea. Do you want a cup?" You ask as you pull the cream cheese and jam out of the fridge.

"No thanks, I'm ok" he mumbles. After his bagle is done being made, you help ease him into sitting position, and sit next to him with your cup of tea. He eats a bit more than half the bagle, and you finish off the rest before deeming it time to shower.

You remember all the messages from his family, and quickly shoot them texts, saying that he's ok and you just got home and you'll talk more when he gets settled.

"I'm gonna put these back in the freezer while we shower, yeah?"

Quinn nods, handing the ice packs to you to put in the freezer. You help him up slowly and lead him to the bathroom. You keep the lights off and leave the door open so you have a little bit of light from the bedroom.

While the shower warms up, you grab a clean change  of clothes for both you and Quinn and set them on the counter before helping Quinn strip. He has to brace an arm against the wall while you hold him steady with one hand and maneuver his clothes off with the other.

"I'm sorry," he murmers against your hair as you help him step into the shower.

"Oh Quinn, there's nothing to be sorry for," you say, sitting him on the shower seat.

"I'm sorry you have to take care of me like this." He huffs, resting his head against the cool Ike of the shower wall, "I feel so pathetic, " his voice cracks, and your heart nearly breaks.

"Quinn, my love, taking care of you is not a burden. It's a pleasure. I love you to the ends of the earth, and I would do anything for you, my sweets. " You kiss him on the forehead sweetly as if to prove your point.

He doesn't say much about it after that, but you can tell he still feels bad. You make quick work of washing his hair, being very careful of where a small bump has formed on his head. You scrub him down and rinse him off before shutting off the water.

You wrap a towel around yourself and then dry Quinn off gently before helping him change into his pajamas. "Let me change and then dry your hair a little bit before we have to put an ice pack on your head, ok?"

Quinn nods. He sits on the counter, leaning against the wall while you change into your pajamas. You plug in the hair dryer and dry his hair, keeping his head steady with one hand. As soon as his hair is no longer soaking wet, you help him off the bathroom counter and into bed. You grab the ice packs from the freezer and help him position them on his head and neck until he's comfortable.

"I'll be back in less than ten minutes, baby. I'm just going to grab your stuff from the car, ok?" You say pulling on a pair of sweats and a hoodie over your pajamas.

"Ok" Quinn mumbles, "I'll call if anything" he says patting his nightstand to make sure his phone is there.

You kiss him on the forehead and pull the bedroom door halfway closed so the light from the hall isn't too bright. Grabbing his car keys and your phone from the counter, you hit the call button on Ellen's contact as you slip out the door.

She picks up on the first ring "Hows he doing?" She asks immediately. She sounds distressed, maybe like she's been crying. You don't blame her. They probably haven't heard anything unless someone on the team contacted them, and you have no idea how bad it looked on TV.

"He's ok, Mrs. H, it's a mild concussion. His symptoms aren't worsening at all, and they said with some rest he'll be significantly better by tomorrow"

Her sigh of relief was unmatched. "He'll be out of play for a couple of weeks, but they just want to make sure he's back to 100% before he's playing again." The elevator finally opens, and you hit the button for the parking garage.

"Thank you so much, Y/n, im glad you're there with him. I know he's in good hands. I'll leave you be love, Jack and luke are super super anxious and would appreciate a call from you. Text me if anything happens."

"I will, Mrs. H, tell Mr. H I say hi"

"I will dear, thanks for taking care of our boy"

"Of course El, he's my boy too," you smile.

You swear you can hear Ellen smile over the phone. "We love you dear, I'll talk to you tomorrow ok. Don't forget to take care of yourself too"

"I will, I love you guys too. I'll text you updates"

"Alright, bye dear."

"Bye," you sigh, pressing the end call button, just as the elevator opens to the parking garage. As you press the button to open the trunk, you call Jack.

"Y/n,"  he huffs out, not even after a full ring. "How's Quinn? If he ok? What happened?"  Before you can answer any of Jacks questions, Luke's voice cuts him off, "is Quinn ok? Are you guys at the hospital? It looked really bad -"

Before their panicked tangents can get worse, you interrupt them both. "Take a breath, you two," you say calmly, breathing exaggeratedly so they can copy you "in and out, relax. Quinn is ok. He's ok"

"He's ok?"

"He's ok" you repeat. You feel the tears start to build, and your voice cracks "He's ok"

"Oh Y/n." Jack says softly.

"It's ok, I'm ok" you say, more to yourself than to Jack as you wipe the tears away. "Hold on, gimme one sec." You say, setting down your phone as you pull Quinn's hockey bag out the car. You close the trunk, make sure the car is locked and head back to the elevator.

"Hi, sorry I'm back. I was just grabbing Quinn's stuff out the car."

"Can you tell us what happened?"  Luke asks softly.

"He's got a concussion, and he's a bit bruised up, but other than that he's alright"

"Fuck, how bad is it?" Jack asks, the fear is evident in his voice, and you can't blame him. Concussions can be really bad sometimes.

"They said its a mild concussion, he's not throwing up at all, his memory is ok, he didn't injure his spine or anything, he'll be ok after a few days of rest. He probably wont be playing for a few weeks, but better safe than sorry."

"Oh thank God"  both Jack and Luke huffed "isn't he not supposed to sleep for 24 hours after or something?" Luke asks.

You shake your head with a small smile "Thats a myth, Lukey. As long as I check on him every few hours its ok for him to sleep."

"Ohh, ok. Well that's good" Luke says.

"We are glad he has you Y/n, thank you for taking care of our brother."

"Always" you say softly.

"We'll let you go now, keep us updated?"

"I will, Jackie. You two get some rest, you have a big game tomorrow, love you guys"

"We love you too Y/n/n" both boys say, hanging up.

You sigh, leaving his bag at the door. "Y/n?" Quinns weak voice calls out from the bedroom. You rush to him immediately, scared that something is wrong.

"Yes, Quinny, I'm right here" you say kneeling beside the bed, and stroking his hair.

"You took long," he mumbles, pressing his lips against your wrist.

"I'm sorry love, I'm here now," you stand, stripping the hoodie and sweats off and climbing into bed next to him. You stay a little distance away, not wanting to hurt Quinn. But he grumbles at you, tugging on your shirt to get you to come closer. Normally, he would just grab you and pull you closer, but he's still weak.

"I don't wanna hurt you" you mumble, scooting closer so that you are tucked against his side. He tangles your legs together and rests his head against yours.

"Never" he says, pressing his lips to the side of your head. You rest one of your hands on his hip, under his shirt, stroking your thumb over his hip bone.

"How you feeling?" You ask softly.

"Beat" he mumbles "thanks for taking care of me"

"I'll take care of you for as long as you let me love" you say, pressing a gentle kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"Forever?"

"Forever."

---

Wc: 3.1k

[trappedinafantasy37]

Minthara reading everyone to filth upon recruitment is funny, but it also highlights just how paranoid she is. Realistically, it probably takes her a few days to figure everyone out rather than the instant she is recruited. When talking about all the companions, a common theme in all her responses relates to their combat capabilities and survivability, and points out their strengths and their weaknesses. She's not throwing shade or stirring the tea. Minthara is conducting a threat assessment. Minthara having very realistic and accurate readings of everyone is a trauma response, because she needs to know who they are and very quickly.

She is trying to figure out who is the most likely to kill her and why they would kill her. But also how they would go about it and is weighing her odds against them. She has to know their weaknesses in case she needs to exploit them, and she has to know their strengths so she can defend against them. And Minthara doesn't just consider their combat capabilities, but their psyche as well, using it as a factor to determine the likelihood of them ever coming after her specifically and how she can disarm them psychologically if need be. But you know who she doesn't provide her assessment for? You.

You are a conundrum. The moment you saved her, she has been curious of you, but wary. Although grateful you saved her, she doesn't understand why you saved her when she believes you had far more reason to either kill her or leave her behind. She wants to trust you, but her trust has always gotten her stabbed. She wants to have faith that her savior won't turn against her, but she has no reason to believe you won't. She spends the entirety of Act 2, watching you, analyzing you, trying to figure you out because she doesn't know what to do with you. She asks you some questions because she is still trying to figure out what motivates you. "Why come to Moonrise? Why raid the grove? Why knock me out?" In two of these questions, she is determining how likely you are to harbor any violent intent. And one of these questions is born of your history of bringing her harm. (Oh the irony of Minthara trusting you less if you knocked her out)

You're a potential enemy whose weakness she doesn't want to exploit, a potential enemy she doesn't want to have to defend herself against. And all this time she spends watching you, she finds things about you that she likes. Really likes. And while conducting her assessment of you, she falls in love with you, and it terrifies her because she still does not know if she is safe with you. So she asks you to share your mind and just tell her if you're safe and can be trusted. She doesn't want to guess anymore, and she doesn't want to come to a potential conclusion she doesn't like. She doesn't want to do the analysis, she doesn't want to be paranoid, she wants to trust you and feel safe with you. She needs to know that you are a safe person for her to love.

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

As You Wish

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: traumatized reader, fear of touch, anxiety, general nervousness, sweet and understanding Astarion, I'm really in my feels so enjoy this fucking dumpster fire

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

It wasn’t unwelcome, it was surprising. Astarion had physical boundaries, this much is true. But you? You were skittish. Always on edge. Never letting anyone too close. Never letting anyone in. Over time, Astarion’s honeyed words softened you ever so slightly. You could stand to be around him. You flinched less. When he confessed he had feelings for you, you were silent. Astarion almost took back everything he said before you spoke the simplest words.

“Me too.” you smiled subtly. 

He moved towards you to take your hand but you immediately stepped back, eyes darting around to assess the level of threat you felt. 

And most of the time, Astarion played it off. He ignored it. He chopped it up to something small and insignificant. But the more time went on, the more he grew within himself, the more he knew it wasn’t something small. He noticed how you always had your hands behind your back. How you were always inside the safety of your tent the moment you could be. How you sharply avoided any kind of touch. He wanted to know. He needed to. He couldn't help you, couldn’t show you love the way he wanted to. 

So he did things differently. He left a small box outside your tent, inside sat a circlet he had… found. Silver with rubies scattered about it. He knocked on the wooden pole holding up the front of your tent before slinking back into the forest, waiting for your reaction. He watched you pick up the box cautiously. When you looked inside he expected a smile to sprout upon your face, yet a deep frown settled instead. You quickly shut the box, silently walked over to his tent, and set the box outside. Once you had returned to your tent, Astarion returned to his. He sat and held the circlet in his hands, thumbs smoothing over the metal and stones as he thought. He would simply have to find another way to show you he loved you. 

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

The next morning, he waited for you to leave your tent. Once he saw you he jogged up to you. You smiled but backed up from him two paces like always. He used to take offense but now this is just what he knew to expect from you. 

“Hello my sweet.” he greeted you.

You nodded at him, smiling still. 

“How is my little love?” he asked.

You sat on the edge of the log that rested next to the fire pit. He sat with you. “Good. You?” 

“Delightful now that I’m with you. My beautiful, talented, wonderful darling.” he fawned over you. 

His honeyed words felt sickly sweet, making your stomach churn. Your face fell into a flushed, worried look. You looked away before quickly moving off the log, “Excuse me.” you said before you quickly walked back to your tent, disappearing within. 

Astarion sighed. No gifts. No touches. No sweet words. Onto the next idea. 

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

This was fool proof, he was sure of it. Not only had he cleaned and sharpened your favorite daggers, he enchanted them. After a particularly difficult incantation, their aim was exact. He knew this would be perfect for showing you how he felt. You noticed the gleam on them immediately, how they cut through anything and everything like fire through ice. Your aim was immaculate, to a suspicious point. After battling and adventuring all day you couldn’t help but notice Astarion’s smirk he had. 

“What?” you asked softly.

“Do you like your daggers?” he asked. 

You looked at them before shrugging, “I suppose?” 

His face dropped a little, did you not notice? “Your aim today is impressive.” he said, winking at you.

You looked down at the daggers, a soft pink glow emitting from them. Your eyebrows drew together, “What did you do?” 

“Improved them,” he smiled, “Sharper. Cleaner. More accurate.” he waved his hand at you, waiting for your thanks. 

Instead, he heard the metal of the blades clink against the log next to him. You left them with him as you walked away. As always, back to your safe haven, your tent. 

He groaned out, falling backwards and laying in the dirt. He didn’t know what else to do, but he knew he would keep trying.

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

“Darling?” Astarion called to you from the front of your tent. Your eyes snapped up as you heard rustling. He walked into your tent, a book in his hands. You were frozen in place, nobody had ever been inside your tent. You felt like an animal caught in a snare.” 

“Why are you in my space?” you asked bluntly. 

“Can we talk?” he asked.

You nodded, noticing the tremble in your hands as you moved. He kept his distance. “I… I don’t know how to love you…” he said. His tone was heartbreaking, defeated. “Everything I’ve tried… you don’t seem to like.” 

You felt sorry for him, you wanted to comfort him. “It’s not you…” you whispered. 

“Then what is it little love?” he asked with a tinge of hope in his voice. 

You looked down, drawing your knees to your chest. “I have… never known kindness. Not a kind hand, kind word, kind gesture… I don’t know what to do with the kindness you show me.” you said honestly. The world is unkind, and it had been especially unkind to you. You feared everything. 

Astarions whole face fell with realization. You weren’t uninterested or unimpressed with him. You were unsure. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked in a tone just above a whisper.

Your eyes finally met his. Big, round, and vulnerable you couldn’t help but nod. 

He inched closer, putting his hands out “Trust me.” he said as he sat across from you. He reached out slowly. You flinched away a bit but waited to see what he was trying to accomplish. His cold fingers deftly touched your hands. Softly moving up your arms, he watched as goosebumps appeared. When he reached your face, he cradled your cheek. Instinctively, you pressed your cheek into him before cupping his hand with your own, releasing a shaky breath. 

You snuggled into his hand, “This… I like this.” you mumbled before very cautiously kissing his palm. 

He smiled at you, “Will you let me love you from now on. Show you kindness in all its forms. Show you what you deserve?” he scooted even closer, you could feel his breaths fanning over your skin.

“Please.” you almost begged, having longed for someone to love you. 

“As you wish.” he smiled before kissing you gently.

You let out a squeak in surprise before kissing him back. You didn’t know what this feeling was, but gods you never wanted it to stop.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello :) I hope this is ok, my motivation is on the floor but I wanted to give your guys something. If it doesn't make sense or blows let me know and I'll take it down or rework it somehow. I hope everyone is doing well XOXOXOXOXOXO!!!!!!!!

[cyborg-squid]

Slept and reflected on my Canto 7 thoughts some more and stumbled some themes regarding the original Don Quixote and the themes of parent and child they have with Sancho and the Family; this was sparked by DQs panic effect which was something like 'Duty/Responsibility to the Family' (can't find the exact text).

And, while this might not be something I personally agree with, there's this idea and trope that parents, when they have a family, have to give up some of their hobbies or aspirations or the like; we can see that, by the end of DQs story, he has accepted that he has to give up his heroic dreams in order to take care of his Family, believing now that the two can no longer coexist. And knowing, rather accurately, that it was his dream that put his Family in this position to begin with; at the start, his Family didn't really believe in his dreams of human and Bloodfiend coexistence and heroic Fixers, but they were willing to go along with it because they love their Father.

It's a little painful to type this, but the assessment of his dream as being naive is pretty accurate, at least in it's manifestation via La Manchaland, because while he has been able to maintain strong self-discipline in refusing to drink from humans, his Children didn't have that same quality and didn't fully know what they were getting into with being a part of La Manchaland, and the deprivation they would end up being subjected to, all for a cause and dream they didn't truly believe. It's no surprise, then, that they ended up breaking. The Children, even though they're not being forced per se, go along with it in order to make their Father happy, without fully knowing what it would entail.

And by the time of the final boss fight, DQ knows this, sees the suffering his childish dream has wrought upon his family, and is now ready to bear the responsibility of taking care of them, as well as the responsibility for their sins, which (in his eyes) means the final abandonment of his long held dream. Our Don Quixote has most often been depicted as a childish one, but it is La Manchaland's Don Quixote that now has an arc depicting a reaching of maturity, albeit a stunted sort. Like I said earlier, the idea that being a parent, starting a family, means letting go of your past dreams...

...but he really didn't need to. Because DQ's dream of peace, tomorrow, and of Fixers, which he first inherited from Bari, were successfully passed on to Sancho, even if she didn't recognize it at first. It's not something that grew naturally in her, it seems, as she ended up being the more 'realist' one than DQ in the past (in the present Canto these positions are reversed), but they're present nonetheless, and that belief is stronger in her than it is in others of the Family, likely because she was the one with a stronger bond to their Father Don Quixote, as well as becoming closer to Bari, the originator of said dream.

Because with Sancho, the belief in the dream isn't innate or 'natural' to her, we see that the world of the City is not an easy place for dreams of peace and justice to exist in, but she believes in and loves her Father (and dear friend Bari), who believed in that dream, and thus she will continue on that adventure in his stead. Because there is also this idea of parents living vicariously through their children, or children carrying on the legacy of their parents. La Manchaland's Don Quixote, as shackled, by duty and responsibility, to the past as he now is, is unable to move forward as he once could, but Sancho, our Don Quixote, is still able to, thanks in large part to the gifts and dreams he gave her (as well as the aid of the Sinners, in helping her realize that the dream is not yet ended), and will now move forward in his stead.

[coriphallus]

DA: The Veilguard Spoiler Review pt3 - Politiks

oh my little void in this world wide web, we are really in it now.

a little PSA before you read this word vomit, i am from westernmost middle east, and that will inform much of what i know about the topics i discuss. i wont know about race politics of america or the intricacies of it beyond what i can see online but as an immigrant i do have some perspective on western experience. so when i talk about heavy topics it will come from a foreign place. i do understand and admit that i cannot ignore that BW is a north american studio and that colours every theme they touch.

so there are two angles to approach this, 1st is to assess DAV on its own and 2nd is to assess it as a part of a whole and continuation of a franchise.

lets get 1st out of the way, its safely uncontroversial beyond taash's story. and eff-plays voiced my feeling verbatim on that subject more succinctly than anything i can possibly write.

2nd is very, very grim.

every DA game that came before had been interlaced with politics of its world so severely that its absence is disorienting. every game you were given the choice to change the political landscape of the countries youre playing in, for better or for worse. even the 2nd game with its vastly smaller scale sees hawke trying to navigate through their life as an immigrant, even at the games climax you are given a choice to drastically alter how this uprising will be remembered and it tells hawke that there are no half measures, they need to pick a side.

"Slavery or no, flesh is always for sale."

in my very first DAV playthrough i picked a shadow dragon elf, i didnt give her any backstory as i though being an elf in minrathous would shape her world view regardless.

first scene i got when organising my room rook pulls out the SHACKLES of a slave shes freed as she reminisces about how much good shes done, and puts them on her bedside. then proceeds to talk to a book and say "everybody looks down on elves but we were here first >:c"

(at this point i rerolled my character so i dont yet know how shadow dragon background plays out.)

at the very beginning of the game we see similar shackles and varric informs us that solas hates slavery, hes been freeing them.

when we make it to minrathous we learn that these people in neves circle have been freeing slaves.

alright so, the heavy handed deliveries aside, what purpose do all these scenes/expositions serve?

well, it makes these people look good. we know theres slavery in this part of thedas and these people are fighting against it not by any elaborate means but dont worry kitten <3.

[i had to look up the english for some of these terms so feel free to correct me if im wrong] patterson describes slavery as "one of the most extreme forms of the relation of domination, approaching the limits of total power from the viewpoint of the master, and of total powerlessness from the viewpoint of the slave". death of the soul, death of what makes one human -and for the purposes of this section- death in the eyes of state. slavery has such a long history that predates early modern colonization of africa by thousands of years. it is a staple of human history and where we have come from shapes what we are now. we can shun it, call it abhorrent but we cant pretend it never happened. theres always been people dead in the eyes of state.

heres the uncomfortable truth, there aint never been enough steel in the world to hold every hittite or mittani slave. to assume slavery is people getting abducted and put to irons is as naïve as human trafficking being a rando ruffying you and hauling you across the sea in a crate. yea, it could happen but 99% of the time its just a waste of time to physically hold someone against their will by force. and this idea makes us think its this far off thing that happened thousands of years ago by bad individuals doing very comically bad things, which is a very deliberate choice, because to depict period accurate slavery would be to portray social and economical classes, and that would be confronting how little we've changed in certain aspects.

people were born into that caste, shaped by it, worn down by it, and abused by it systematically.

in DAI Dorian says something -apparently- very controversial that i dont think this fandom has fully unpacked, and i aint gonna do that here either because im not remotely qualified. he likens the working class of south to slavery of north, theres no way to engage with this argument in any meaningful way, even as an elf, and in general people brush it off as dorians pro-slavery rhetorics.

try as DAV might to disregard, we actually did meet an ex-slave and trafficking victims on three separate occasions, and the games have set a premise already. we got to talk about their unique circumstances, and they were handled with some measure of dept. maybe you liked them, maybe you didnt, but you knew them and that makes a difference. they had agency in their own stories. a far cry from DAVs nameless faceless props for righteous gentiles to circle jerk about.

but, sure, lets tell ourselves showing them would be too gratuitous.

can you imagine how batshit insane it would look if zevran kept the belt her husband used to beat isabela with as a trinket, to display in his tent? that scene with rook disturbed me more than most anything in this entire franchise and coming from an anders supporter, thats saying something.

this is how little the writers were willing to engage with their source material. this is how little they are willing to engage with the world around them.

which makes the next blunder inevitable.

alot has been said about the absurdity of elves feeling responsible for the events of DAV, but maybe this hasnt been said enough; this is a blatant fascist rhetoric.

i will spell it out though, even though i never thought it needed to be said, the social performance of accountability indicates that the party who has done harm has benefited and continues to benefit from that harm, this is why reparations are paid, and thats what "check your priviledge" means. elves in DA have never benefited in any way from the warmongering of evanuris, they were enslaved by them.

to say that these people should feel some sort of responsibility towards what befell dwarves is a fascist rhetoric used irl to offload responsibility and divide and alienate the opposition further from eachother.

i cant tell you if this mouth piece is same everywhere but i know a few people who have clocked it immediately so im gonna assume it was obvious. and truthfully, i wouldnt even be annoyed if i thought it was intentional. genuinely, one of my favourite games is an unapologetic military propaganda whos protagonist would make ayn rand write sonnets about, and the game knows what it is. but no, i fully believe the studio tried to address the criticism they got about their lackluster handling of elves and either completely misunderstood or willfully disregarded the experiences of marginalised peoples that the games drew inspiration from.

the writing is so hollow beyond horrible dialogue that when writing an enby character whos also multicultural they didnt even notice the parallel theyve created. i know this because after an entire plotline about their struggle with binaries their story concludes with a binary decision on their culture. this just confirms to me that any dept this game has is completely accidental.

imma level with yall i dont subscribe to the belief that you need to have some type of experiences to write some type of characters and i find that "ofc a white person wrote it so..." response very tired because yea we should be allowed to expect more from white people. i too had OCs of different cultures that i wasnt very familiar with and handled poorly, but unlike me, a company can afford a consultant.

i played greedfall recently, and sure the maori tattoos were a shit decision, and im disappointed that after all the criticism they still stuck with it, and yes maybe its story was not sensitive enough but you know what? as the person whos recommended it to me said, i rather have a story who boldly engages with its own themes than one whos terrified of them. say what you will about its shortcomings but at least at the end of that game you can have an ending where the colonizers leave for good, and yes their plague is not healed but the narrative doesnt punish the natives for their isolationism. i am glad that the game allows that catharsis to its players.

DAV could have had 300 well thought-out endings and still not please everyone, but the endings they chose to include directly implicates the group theyre trying to appease and its literally just people who either want to punch or kiss solas, thats how fucking deep they think their fanbase it. not the people who wanted to end slavery, or achieve equilibrium with beings no matter how alien they are. or people who wanted to see a culture connect with its roots etc etc.

and maybe they were right, many people have been enjoying this game immensely and i am just, so fucking jealous. i wish i liked this game and enjoyed it and didnt want to tear out my hair every second i spent in treviso. i wish i wasnt seething white knuckling my sink like an insane person when a little kid wrote to crow rook that hes recruiting orphans now. i wish i had any belief in this game to read that as satire.

at least i wish i felt any form of vindication when i immediately realised this game was going to be a soulless cashgrab that unashamedly uses the name of a popular IP to push a sub-par product earlier this year, i just spend 80+ hours watching a company parade the carcass of a franchise i loved and beat it like a pinata as it continuously slapped me on the face with a botched wax figure of it.

i just feel this profound sense of sadness. i wish this game didnt exist. and no i dont feel any kind of brand loyalty, even when i actively enjoyed their work i didnt but i definitely dont now, not after 3 consecutive games that theyve delivered with more or less the same problems. as the company is today, i dont care whether bw survives or not, its been made clear time and again that the bw i liked is long gone and bw today is clearly not interested in making games for me.

even as i write this i dont feel fuelled by my anger for DAV but by the love a have for what came before. i still think the story deserved better, the fans deserved better, the people who contributed into making DA universe what it was before DAV deserved better. and, as rook told harding, our anger is justified.

but, hey. hair looks really good.

[lobautumny]

Alright, guess this toy's gonna talk about Palworld, because it's seen Discourse™️ start to crop up about how "supporting the game is immoral because it's stealing designs from Pokemon!"

Now look, this toy's not about to sit here and tell you that all of the monster designs in Palworld are completely original and the game isn't, on some level, a bootleg. Obviously a lot of the designs are bootleg pokemon. That's not the point it wants to get at. The point is that it doesn't really matter.

First of all, nobody is being hurt by Palworld having knockoff pokemon among the ranks of its monsters. Game Freak is not some tiny indie developer struggling to make ends meet having their work unfairly co-opted by a big, bad corporation. Pokemon is, in fact, the largest, most profitable media franchise of all time, and Palworld is an indie game. The reason that something like this would hypothetically be scummy/shitty is if someone were taking someone else's work, changing it slightly, claiming it as their own, and thus depriving the original creator of credit/visibility that they should've had. But that literally can't happen here, because everyone already knows what Pokemon is. So unless it gets found that they're stealing designs from fakemon artists or something (there was one alleged instance, but it seems to have just been a coincidence of two different people having the idea of "what if Chimecho but with big, bulky arms?"), Palworld is hurting nobody through having bootleg designs, so the moral argument against the game falls flat.

With that out of the way, there's a much more interesting topic to discuss here: Why is it that when someone's fangame gets C&D'd, everyone immediately jumps to the creator's support, accurately assessing that our copyright system is broken and primarily serves to hurt independent artists, but the moment a developer makes the changes necessary to make sure their fangame doesn't get hit with a C&D (and to allow them to make money off of it), it's suddenly bad and cringe and unoriginal?

The argument that "Palworld is lazy and unoriginal and therefore bad because the monster designs are too similar to Pokemon's designs" is something that this toy would be willing to hear out if Palworld were a turn-based singles-format RPG with similar systems/overall structure to those found in Pokemon games, but, uh. It isn't. It's a third-person shooter with monster-catching mechanics and, like, Factorio-ass automation and base-building, from what this toy can tell. And it doesn't know if the game is good, as someone who has not played it (or even really seen gameplay of it), but it can absolutely tell you that the game's not lazy.

Sure, they could have done more to make the monster designs feel more unique, and that's absolutely a valid criticism for the game. This toy doesn't want to come across like it's saying otherwise. It just wants people to recognize that that's kind of a nitpick when the game is, on a mechanical and genre level, something completely different from anything any Pokemon game ever has been or ever will be, and that nobody would be complaining about laziness or a lack of originality if this came out as a fangame literally just using actual pokemon. In that reality, people would've been popping off at how high-effort it is, actually. And like, even putting money aside, this game literally could not exist as a fangame. A while back, someone uploaded some videos on Youtube showcasing a fangame they were developing that was an FPS where the enemies were pokemon. They got hit with a C&D and their Youtube account was terminated within a couple days of the videos being uploaded. The game was not monetized, and in fact, never even had a download link, to this toy's recollection. Palworld would have suffered the same exact fate if it wasn't its own IP.

[singingcicadas]

Realized that even though it's a shame that there wasn’t much Drift/Megatron interaction in the story, we still got a fairly detailed one-sided account of Drift’s opinion.

Because this is in no way an accurate assessment of the mentality of the crew members on Necroworld. Drift's either doing some really bullshit armchair psychology or he's projecting his own feelings and assuming that they're shared by everyone else.

Once you break everyone down individually you can see that Drift’s theory applies to very few people:

Rodimus and Minimus have sort of an ambiguous friendship going on with Megatron. Rodimus literally chose to save his life when he could have let Megatron explode with Tarn. Minimus immediately proceeded to give himself congnitive dissonance b/c he thought Megatron betrayed them by running away.

Nautica Velocity Cyclonus Tailgate Ten have no preexisting history against Megatron.

Nautica has more Other Problems than to pay attention to Megatron.

Velocity’s conversation with Megatron after the psychological attack was nothing but caring and friendly. Megatron even felt comfortable enough to admit to her that he was happy. She and Nautica are amongst the few people who sees Megatron as a person first, before his deeds.

Cyclonus might even admire him a little with the romanticized way he talks about the Decepticon ideology.

Tailgate's knowledge about Megatron's past comes entirely from datapackets and documentaries. And his response to that kind of threat level is to pull a gun on him and then try to shadowplay the evilness out. Point is, Tailgate's method to dealing with threats is to be very hands-on, especially after he got his spark spasm superpowers. His way of coping is definitely not brainwashing himself into thinking 'he's not a threat' and being unconsciously nervous all the time.

Whirl hates Megatron with a passion but he also saved Megatron in the time travel. He views Megatron as less of a threat than the functionists.

Nightbeat doesn’t care about anything other than his mysteries; his response to threat of imminent demise at sundown is to go exploring.

Rung’s… Rung. He’s forgiving and compassionate, and also a professional therapist who should be capable of employing healthy rational methods to cope with Megatron being in his life.

Rewind, like Nautica, has a whole slew of Other Problems, I'm sure Megatron's not a very big priority right now.

Skids is dead.

That only leaves like three people unaccounted for and they’re all branded Megatron sympathizers for a reason: they all said no to Getaway when he asked if they were pro ‘mutiny and kick Megatron off the ship.’

Drift's only been back for seven days, even if he got filled in with everything that happened since, he's still in no position to be making that kind of assessment. He doesn't have the context. He wasn't there when Megatron was captain of the ship. He didn't even meet Nautica Velocity and Nightbeat before he left, he has no idea what they're like or what they think of Megatron. Even Rewind's not the same one from before. (Add: he also didn't know Ultra Magnus was actually Minimus in a suit)

Most importantly his entire response in the second two panels is the complete opposite of Ratchet's original question. Ratchet's question was "Is it me or is everyone a little skittish?" Skittish. as in nervous. uneasy. jumpy. Drift's like "Megatron's gone so they can relax." But skittish is the opposite of relaxing? and they only started being skittish after Megatron left? He's the only one to bring up Megatron in this?

Rodimus' reasoning in the first panel (sans Rodpod) makes much more sense.

TL;DR: Drift's nervous around his old boss and can only relax after Megatron's gone, so he assumes that everyone else must feel the same way too. Everyone else: not really?

[lynn-tged-posting]

tged webtoon ep 165 spoilers and thoughts below the cut that im not terribly late on this time yippee!

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.

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what if i went up to you and stared at you like this

HAHAHAHAHAAA I LOVE THIS PANEL SO SO MUCH

ive been sending this on like all my socmeds and to all my mutuals/irls. im tormenting them with it it's just so fucking cute and silly . puppy dog eyes javier. pleading emoji. he's just so fucking silly ALKJDFLSDKF HELL I MADE IT MY DISCORD PFP ITS SO GOOFY I LOVE IT SM HAHAHA CUTE CUTE CUTE

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHA

silly panels aside back to the top!

lloyd. stop hurting me oh god he looks so tired and gaunt and,,, lifeless. it HURTS seeing him like this, the life he once had just,,, stripped from him.

LIKE I WANTED TO SEE HIM WITH HIS HAIR DOWN AND MESSY BUT NOT LIKE THIS BRUH WHAT THE HELL SOB SOB SOB

the invitation oh my god. its so silly goofy but also so so personal its cute as hell its stupid looking but in the most affectionate way possible. the people of the estate really REALLY care about him and god idek if lloyd realizes that bc literally just after this, he apologizes to everyone for not being able to things for them anymore

not even able to get back up to get back to the bed GOD I FEEL SICK

but it doesnt matter anymore whether or not lloyd can still protect them, the estate has come to care for him so much , its not his protection they want they just fucking love him and he doesnt realize that i feel so fucking ill. lloyd i need you to open your eyes and look at this beautiful land, this beautiful home you've built with your own two hands. ITS NOT OVER YET PLEASE GOD ITS NOT OVER

and then lloyd without second thought chooses javier to live. because he really thinks hes just an extra getting in the way, a burden, a bug that shouldnt be there. so he thinks its fine if he, as a side character, is the one that dies SOMEONE PUNCH ME.

he looks so fucking SMALL. alone and in the dark IM GONNA EXPLODE INTO TEN BILLION PIECES. who wrote this fuckass program. SWEAR TO GOD IM COMIN DOWN TO FIX IT MYSELF GOD DAMMIT

AND THEN THE SYSTEM TEXTBOX COMING IN IM SO GRATEFUL PLEASE HELP HIM SOB SOB SOB

im super duper heartwarmed to see that whoever is running the blue textbox is on suho's side. it has never been impartial, huh,,, it just wants to see his wish come true. ooogh my heart.

lloyd looks,,, strangely peaceful here. is he like, paused rn? im not really sure what the system box is up to, but hopefully thisll delay anything from happening while javier is concocting his plan,,,

speaking of!

FATE KICKING IN LIKE TEN TIMES WORSE IS SO DAMN SCARY. THE MULTIPLE GIGATITANS OH GODDD im so fucking terrified. javier please hurry!!! he looks rlly cool on draggy here hehe

I THINK JAVIER AND ALICIAS EXCHANGE TOO IS SO FUCKING HILARIOUS. alicia, upon only seeing javier, immediately is suspicious of lloyd scheming something. she thinks the two of them are plotting again, hence the "what are you up to".

the problem is that it's just javier on this plan. there is no lloyd directing him, so javiers reaction is SO silly fun bc i. dont think he thinks of himself as being. scheming?? bc he seems SO confused at alicia's skepticism here HADLFKJSDLFKJ ITS SO FUNNY

I REALLY THINK JAVIER WAS GENUINELY A LITTLE CONFUSED AS TO WHY ALICIA WAS QUESTIONING HIM PLEAAASEEE

i think javier believes he's just going about business as usual. doing what he can to protect his lord, as he does, all the time, the usual. sure that involves getting an angel to ask the queen for the eye of summer, but that's certainly not plotting on the same scale that lloyd does. javier isnt a schemer. he just does whats necessary to protect the one he cares about the most. hence his goofy innocent puppy eyes, because its not like hes "up" to anything. idk how accurate this assessment is, so pls correct me if im wrong, but I LOVE IT A LOT HES JUST SO FUCKING DEDICATED I LOVE U JAVIER MVP!!!!!

and then raphie shows up yay!! EXCEPT HELP WHY DID HE GET SUCKED BACK IMMEDIATELY WHAT THE HELL he was so underprepared. poor guy. getting thrown around like this sob sob

ALICIA ASKING IF THIS IS SMTH JAVIER KNEW ABT OR IF THEY WERE PLANNING SOMETHING AND THEN JAVIER BEING GENUINELY FUCKING SHOCKED HELP MEEEE "maybe its not a prank...?" LMFAOOOOO

i mentioned this in the last ep post but like. again javier wears his heart on his sleeve he's so fucking protagonist its unreal. hell, not even on his sleeve, he has his heart out on his damn palm sob sob

i think he's shocked here bc he didnt expect raphaels call to play out like that, he prolly thought theyd issue it more seriously. the issue with this being so half-hearted is now alicia isnt absolutely certain that this is the will of the heavens, so she's less inclined to follow along. it doesnt help that her board of nobles (seriously why does she keep these bozos around they just keep yapping) are arguing back and forth abt whether or not to listen. this is kind of a little wrench in the smoothness of the plan... everything now hinges on alicia's whim now.

anyway two more panels javier being menacing/blunt as hell and alicia thinking on her throne,,, god they are so fucking. awesome i love them so much

anyway that is ALL! for this week! the episode felt a little bit slow to be honest, but i think that's because the events of this ep are little things that build up to whats next, so i dont mind it at all (especially since the last couple of eps have been super fast lately)! i really really enjoy this buildup and im super excited to see what happens next,,,

see yall next week! lloyd please be okay! or ill cry! like for real!

[violetwolfraven]

Idk what this is but I have to post it before season 7 comes out and it is rendered officially canon-noncompliant

Time takes a time out.

That’s the best way Soren can think of to describe what it feels like the second after they tell him.

“Corvus was captured by Karim. We don’t know for sure if Karim still has him, but what we can say for certain is that he is missing.

He rode out with Ezran a couple of days…”

Gren keeps talking, explaining the details of the situation, but that’s about the last of it that Soren hears.

The ground is unsteady, and he can feel his heartbeat throbbing in his skull, and his own breathing seems to be the loudest thing in the world.

Corvus is missing. Presumed captured, but could be…

Soren feels so fucking stupid. He didn’t even notice, at first. Corvus is a quiet kind of guy, right? Sort of stealthy. Tracker, spy, advisor—all roles where it’s a good thing for him to fade into the background to everyone except his own friends. And he’s a more than competent fighter. Not seeing him right away doesn’t usually mean anything. Soren was more focused on Ezran. The uncharacteristic quietness, one-word answers to questions trembling with a grief and rage very not like the boy king of Katolis. Soren has seen Ezran upset before, he’s seen him sad, even angry on occasion, but he’s known Ezran almost since he was born and he’s never seen him like this.

He turned to express as much to Corvus, and to ask how he’s doing—Katolis is his home too, his charred, barely standing home—only to realize he wasn’t there. Not just not right next to Soren; not there at all. Janai and Amaya sent a pretty large party to assess the extent of the damage and Corvus wasn’t with them. Corvus wasn’t bound to the Sunfire kingdom by duty like Amaya now was, so that struck Soren as odd. He asked Gren, and…

Soren forces himself to take a deep breath.

He’s Crownguard. He’s been helping the rest of the council set up and run their camp, attend to the wounded, and bury the dead for the last 2 days. He’s in a leadership position and someone has to fill Ezran in on what’s what.

Actually, Callum and Rayla (arrived with Rayla’s dad-sassin around sundown yesterday) seem to be taking care of that, so Soren refocuses on Gren.

“…and when the dust cleared, we captured most of their infantry and commanders,” Gren is reporting, “But Karim and General Miyana escaped. There were a lot of people, a lot of confusion due to how fast the entire thing happened, so it took us a few hours to get an accurate headcount. Corvus never checked in—but we didn’t find him among the handful of casualties, either! He’s most likely still alive. It’s possible we just didn’t look hard enough in the time between the battle and finding out about Katolis. For a battle with so few casualties, we did have quite a few injuries. The infirmary was extremely crowded. We could have easily missed him in there.”

It doesn’t sound like Gren thinks that’s what happened.

Despite having missed a big chunk of story in the middle there, Soren doesn’t think so either.

“Will Karim hurt him?”

Gren hesitates, and Soren feels a little nauseous.

“I don’t… think so. In my limited experience with Karim, he was never particularly sadistic. Vindictive? Sure. Dramatic? Definitely. But the only way I see him hurting Corvus is if he has a particular goal in mind, like if he thinks Corvus knows something that could help his cause. But that’s unlikely. Corvus spent most of the last 2 years in Katolis. Even if he didn’t, I don’t think even Karim knows his next move at this point. This was his third failed plan to overthrow Janai. I’d be surprised if he had another any time soon.”

Soren can think of one.

He can’t say for sure, considering he’s only met Karim a few times, but if Soren thinks if he were banished, desperate, and had no leverage other than one hostage, a known close friend of two different monarchs…

“What about using Corvus to try and control Amaya?” he asks, “Or worse—Ezran?”

Gren’s eyes widen. He glances over at the king, talking to his brother.

The 12-year-old orphan king, who just came home to find his city in ruins.

Ezran has already lost so much. His kingdom was attacked while he just happened to be absent. His friends are injured. His home is nothing but ash and rubble.

If threatened with one of his friends’ pain, he might do something rash. By the look on Gren’s face, he knows it too.

Something in Soren’s chest constricts.

“Does he know Corvus is missing?”

Gren slowly nods, “He knows. Whether he remembers at the moment, with everything else, is a different question.”

Which means it’s in everyone’s best interest for them to find him, before Ezran remembers he has anyone else to worry about. Because if Karim tries to pull something, if he tries to use Corvus to…

Soren feels more alert and present than he has in days. He’s sort of been on automatic mode this whole time, trying not to think too hard about his home being reduced to rubble or his dad… his dad. He’s been going through the motions. Just sit back and let the dragon fly, you know? Soren knows how to protect people. That’s what he’s good at. He doesn’t have to think about it to do it.

He’s always been a protector. Always on the defense. Never considered himself particularly vindictive, never really understood why his father or sister felt the need to take revenge when they get hurt.

But if Karim has hurt Corvus, Soren is going to kill him.

He knows that with startling clarity that makes him think maybe he’s not so different from the rest of his family after all.

It’s just… Corvus is his closest friend. The person whose opinion he looks for the most when proposing a plan. The person he’s always trying to get to laugh. The person he…

“Soren, I…” Gren hesitates, “I don’t know you that well. We’ve never worked together all that closely. But I do know Corvus. He, Amaya, and I have been friends for years, and of the three of us, he is the most introverted. He usually prefers the company of trees or animals to other people. The fact that you’ve managed to get him out of his comfort zone as much as you have with all the adventures he writes us letters about… that’s not insignificant.”

Soren isn’t sure where he’s going with this, “Yeah?”

“I can tell that you care for Corvus very deeply,” Gren says, genuinely, “And if you want to come back to Xadia with me and help search for him, I think Ezran will understand.”

Usually, Soren would agree wholeheartedly. But right now? He’s not sure he wants to leave the kid alone. Or Callum and Rayla, for that matter. Wise as those two act, they’re still kids too. Even if they don’t realize it.

God, when did Callum get that tall? He’s still shorter than Soren, obviously, but he’s taller than Rayla now. When did that happen? Soren doesn’t know how he’s never noticed until now, but—

“I know it’s not a good time for you to be leaving Katolis. But still, it’s not every day your partner gets kidnapped.”

Soren turns his head back to look at Gren so quickly it hurts, “What?”

“I don’t want it to be true,” Gren says solemnly, “He’s my friend. Of course I hope he’s not a hostage. I really hope in the confusion of the battle he just ended up in the woods or something and is maybe injured and waiting for us to come and find him. But I have to admit, Karim still having him does seem like the most likely—“

“No, I mean,” Soren struggles for words, “Corvus is not my partner.”

“Oh!” Gren’s face turns bright red, “I mean, the way it sounded in Corvus’s letters, I just sort of… but I guess he never said—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Did you think we were together this entire time?”

“I… sort of?”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know if I could put a date on when—“

“So a long time then.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Soren is about to say that that’s ridiculous, why would anyone assume he and Corvus are a couple, but…

Looking back he can kind of see it, actually. He can’t speak to whatever Corvus has apparently been writing to Gren and Amaya, but they do spend an awful lot of time together, don’t they?

The other crownguards tend to be a bit more random about who they take shifts with, but Soren does almost always sign up to guard with Corvus. Sure, he does that because Corvus is the only one who doesn’t come to the team-building sleepovers and how else is he supposed to convince him to show up if he doesn’t talk to him a lot? But to an outsider, he can definitely see how that could look like him having a thing for Corvus. And maybe their fighting styles complement each other pretty much perfectly in battle. Maybe that’s part of it, too. And maybe he thinks a lot about trying to get Corvus to play a song on the cello that he can sing along to. Maybe it feels better than any sparring victory every time Soren gets him to open up even a little. Maybe it feels like there’s butterflies in his chest when Corvus reveals something they have in common. Maybe it felt like the butterflies were exploding that one time they hugged in the mushroom forest and oh wow yeah Soren definitely does have a thing for Corvus.

He knows he’s not considered the smartest guy around, but he still feels like he should have noticed this before now. Especially if Gren, who was miles and miles away for the last 2 years and doesn’t know Soren all that well, noticed it before he did.

Oh no. If Gren noticed, that means Corvus definitely did. And he just never said anything? For 2 years? Sure, there’s been a lot going on, but it’s not like they haven’t been alone together, plenty of times, when he could have said something.

Soren adds another reason along with ‘he’s my closest friend and I can’t lose him,’ and ‘if he gets hurt I will go apeshit,’ and ‘if he gets hurt Ezran will go apeshit’ to the list of reasons why he needs to find Corvus and bring him home safety.

“How fast can we get back to Xadia?” he asks, and it comes out in his Leader of the Crownguard, time-to-pull-up-your-big-boy-pants-and-sound-like-you-know-what-you’re-doing voice.

“With Aegis and Embertail not having to match pace with human infantry or carry more than one person each? I’d say three hours, maybe less.”

“Then let’s go. Now.” Something occurs to him, “…make that as soon as I let Opeli know where we’re going.”

Soren might not know exactly what he’s going to do when he finds Corvus. He doesn’t know where to find him or how he’s going to beat a Sun mage in a fight.

But he knows he’s going to do whatever it takes. Nothing and no one is going to stop him from getting to the man he’s pretty sure he already fell halfway in love with while he wasn’t looking.

If Corvus is hurt, Soren swears all the magic in Xadia won’t be enough to save Karim.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Arc 2 Part 4

Here's everything I shared during the ask game event with some minor edits. Most of the edits are around the results of the scan, I more accurately described what I was trying to say.

Story Summary: Everything changed the evening Jason met Jazz's brother. Danny introduced him and his entire family to the ghost that is, apparently, haunting him. The ghost of the Robin he had been.

The ghost of the person everyone he's ever known wishes he still was.

All he wants is to make it go away.

Arc 1: First, Last

Arc 2: First, Previous

Word Count: 1.7k

-----

Frostbite looked between them and hummed. “I should like a blood sample from you”—he nodded to Jason—“and an ectoplasm sample from you”—he indicated the ghost—“please hold out one of your arms.”

Jason sighed and gave his left arm. The yeti took out a syringe, thankfully a normal sized one, though it looked tiny in his giant hands. He watched as Frostbite carefully pierced his vein and filled a vial with blood. It went as smoothly as any blood draw he’d ever received from Dr. Thompkins or Alfred.

“You’re good at that,” he commented.

The yeti gave him an amused look. “I should hope so. I have been a doctor for many times longer than you’ve been alive.”

Jason flushed. “Sorry, it’s just… I wasn’t sure how many living patients you’ve ever had.”

“Many ghosts come to us for healing. And of those who were once alive, their ghostly bodies often mimic the ones they had in life. It is not so different, drawing blood from a living body as it is drawing ectoplasm from a ghostly one.”

“Huh. I guess that makes sense. I didn’t realize.”

Frostbite ruffled his hair and it took every ounce of self control he had to not pull away. “That is quite all right. You will learn in time.”

Jason had to bite his tongue to keep from saying he didn’t want to learn.

But the doctor was already turning to the interloper and reaching for his arm. Jason couldn’t help but watch as they made more of those chirps and trills at each other. The ones from Frostbite were much deeper than the ones from Danny or the ghost, but they were unmistakably the same sort of noises.

When Frostbite took the ectoplasm sample, it really didn’t look any different than a normal blood draw. Except the resulting fluid was bright Lazarus-green. He shuddered and looked away.

Frostbite pulled out what looked like a transparent tablet and typed something on it. “A technician will be along shortly to collect the samples and run a few tests on them. Now, Prince Phantom said he scanned you and it showed the two of you are tied together. I should like to repeat the process but with our own scanners.”

“What do your scanners do?” asked Jason.

“I will show you. See this machine?” Frostbite indicated a machine that was positioned in the corner of the room. It looked like an old-fashioned x-ray machine you might find at a dentists’ office. It was about the size of a standing shower and was mostly open. “This part here”—he touched a piece of metal that reached from floor to ceiling—“will circle around the two of you and track your ectoplasm. It serves a similar purpose in ghost anatomy to an x-ray of a human. From the readings, I will be able to assess your core, young Robin, and your liminality, Sir Jason.”

“Just Jason, please.”

“Are you not a warrior of your people? And you are courting Princess Jasmine. No, to call you anything else would be improper.”

Jason flushed. “Then what should I call you? Aren’t you the leader here? Is it King Frostbite?”

“You may call me Doctor or Chief Frostbite should you wish.”

“You’ve got it, Dr. Frostbite. So will you have to scan us together? Doesn’t look like there’s a lot of room in there.”

Frostbite hummed. “I believe three full scans, one of each of you alone and one with both of you together. I apologize for the size; this is the first time we’ve had to scan two individuals together like this.”

Jason scowled, but didn’t comment. He would do anything to get rid of the interloper.

Before they could start, however, a knock sounded on the door. Frostbite opened it to reveal two more yetis.

“Ah, Silverclaw and Snowfur. Thank you for getting here so quickly.” He grabbed the vials of blood and ectoplasm. “These are the samples I want tested.”

“Of course, Chief. We’ll get to work on them right away.”

“I know you will. Thank you.” Frostbite nodded his farewell. Once the two yetis had left, he shut the door and turned back to Jason and the ghost. “Which of you would like to get scanned first?”

Before Jason could even think of volunteering, the ghost let out a trill and flew to the machine.

Frostbite chuckled. “Very well, young one. I shall begin the process shortly. Please remain still as the scan is in progress.”

Jason watched, curious, as Frostbite pressed a few buttons. The machine whirred to life, blue lines lighting up along the metal. Then the panel Frostbite had pointed out before slowly rotated around the ghost. Five times it completed the circuit before stopping in it’s original position by the wall.

A screen lit up on the wall, also transparent like the tablet, and on it images very much like a human x-ray appeared. Only instead of bones, it showed a ball of red-orange light. Tendrils spread out in the shape of a humanoid body. A thick cord of light extended off the screen. The cord was mostly gray and it’s tendrils wound around the red-orange ball and mixed in with the branches that made up the rest of the ghost’s body.

Frostbite hummed, but didn’t comment further, and Jason didn’t know him well enough to know if it was a good or bad hum. “Sir Jason, it is your turn.”

The ghost flew out of the scanner and Jason entered. “Will it feel like anything?”

The doctor shook his head. “Indeed not. You may hear a humming, but the scan itself will not affect you in any other way.”

“So I just need to stand here for a minute while it goes?”

“Indeed. Simply remain still. Are you ready?”

Jason took a deep breath and stood tall, arms by his side. “Go ahead.”

Frostbite hit a button and the device lit up with the same blue light he’d seen before. Then the scanner began rotating around him. As the yeti had promised, he didn’t feel anything but the hum of the machine.

And soon enough, it settled back into its rest position.

Jason didn’t wait for permission before stepping out and taking a look at the results of the scan. The same cord of light that had been coming off the ghost seemed to be stretching to him. Tendrils of it wrapped around the areas where his heart and brain would be if the scan showed human organs. Thinner tendrils stretched through the rest of his body, but the majority clustered around his heart and brain. His light was mostly gray with the red and orange bleeding in.

Chills ran down his spine. The ghost had integrated himself entirely into Jason’s body. Would it even be possible to get rid of him without killing himself? But could he go on living knowing that the interloper, no, the parasite was tied so closely to him? He’d finally started to move on from his death and the anger!

“Calm down, Sir Jason.” Frostbite’s steady voice cut through his thoughts. “We have one more scan and then I shall explain my theories as to what is going on and how we might address the situation.”

Jason gave a single nod and unclenched his fists. He closed his eyes and took a few seconds to go through a breathing exercise Jazz had taught him. “Fine,” he said when he was sure he wouldn’t start throwing out cursed.

Didn’t stop him from stomping over to the scanner.

Frostbite rested one giant paw on his head for a moment. “I understand this is a lot for you. But I will assist you to the best of my abilities.” He glanced away from Jason towards the interloper. “Both of you.”

Jason frowned but didn’t bother mentioning that that was what he was worried about.

“Now, young Robin. If you could come here as well.”

Frostbite took a moment arranging Jason and the ghost within the scanner. This was the closest Jason had been to the interloper since he learned about his existence and the proximity raised goosebumps on his arm. Why did things like this always have to happen to him? He hated it. He just wanted to go back to arguing with Bruce and trading insults with Tim and pranking Dick. But he couldn’t do that if the ghost of who he’d used to be was following him everywhere.

Jason closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the creature’s stupid uniform or too-young face.

Then the humming started again and Jason could only assume he the scanner was running. He held entirely still, both because the scanner needed it and because he and the ghost were so close that if he moved, they might brush arms or touch.

He held back a shudder and didn’t open his eyes until the humming had stopped.

He couldn’t have said who evacuated the scanner first, they both rushed out quickly and set themselves up on either side of Frostbite while the image loaded.

As predicted, it was as if the two previous scans had been put together. The cord connecting Jason and the ghost was thick and strong. It originated from what Jason could only assume was the ghost’s core and spread out until it latched onto Jason’s brain and heart.

Frostbite hummed again. “I will need to ask both of you some questions that you may not want to answer. I apologize in advance for any discomfort my questions may cause. But let us get comfortable first. Afterwards, I shall explain my suspicions.”

Jason nodded and took a seat on the examination bed that Frostbite gestured to. Robin crossed his legs and appeared to sit in midair. The doctor pulled up a chair for himself and settled in.

Even sitting and with Jason on a high bed, they were roughly eye-to-eye due to the yeti’s large size.

“Young Robin, what do you remember of the time between your death and Sir Jason’s resurrection?”

The ghost, of course, only replied in the trilling language, leaving Jason out of the conversation. Asshole could’ve signed if he wanted to. Jason bit his tongue to keep from saying anything, though.

After a time, Frostbite nodded and turned to Jason. “And now, Sir Jason, I must know how you were brought back to life.”

-----

Ah, Jason really isn't going to like this conversation. None of it is fun, but this conversation will be his least favorite.

And look at Robin being just as petty back! Refusing to bring Jason in on the conversation.

How will they move forward from this?

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[nayatarot777]

how to connect to your intuition better

this is an ice spice fan account

• pile one •

cards: 2 of pentacles, 6 of swords, page of pentacles, 2 of cups, knight of cups, the high priestess

your intuition is connected to your practical knowledge. you may trust your intuition easier when you make an “educated guess” about something (because you really do be knowing) or when you weigh out the probability of something happening. your intuition is also easy to connect to when you’re able to achieve some type of mental clarity or mental balance. when you don’t think too deeply into what your opinion is or how you feel about something. you just let the thought of the feeling come to you. this helps you to avoid overthinking what you think or feel. learning how to make use of your practical knowledge about certain things or people, and trusting yourself in making an accurate judgement or assessment of people and situations. when you give a grounded, “realistic” perspective to a situation, that is when your intuition is flowing the most. connecting to other people and feeling however tf you want to feel about them - whether it “makes sense” to feel that way about them or not. you feel the way that you do for a reason. choosing between how two different things make you feel emotionally is also how you can follow your intuition. which thing/person/option makes you feel more emotionally fulfilled than the other? literally following your heart space and your feelings - with patience. give your feelings time to show themselves to you so that you can follow them. be careful to not let anything external influence the way that you feel about things. you’re showing up as the high priestess, so most of you may follow your intuition without even realising it. on a subconscious level. you also have a huge amount of secret/hidden knowledge about how to make things work for yourself, too. i’m hearing that you should trust yourself and your own judgement. you’re smarter than you think. trusting knowledge that comes to you without worrying about where it may have come from will benefit you.

if you’d like a private reading, please check out my pinned post 💞

• pile two •

cards: 5 of pentacles, 5 of swords, 8 of swords, the star, king of wands, the emperor

you feel like you lack something in relation to your intuition. you may be the pile who struggles to feel anything when trying to connect to it, leading you to feel left out of having spiritual abilities or an intuition that you can value. you also have a lot of mental conflict, as if you’re trying to find some type of victory in “finding” your intuition. there’s a lot of deep and prominent fears and anxieties surrounding your intuition. you may be keeping yourself in a mental prison and i heard “about being wrong”. you may also feel vulnerable with opinions and thoughts or beliefs that are easily influenced. it’s like there’s a blockage in your mental space. as if you don’t observe thoughts and let them pass you by. you might hold onto the things that you hear about or things that you’re told, and that’s affecting your ability to listen to yourself. there’s some healing that needs to take place. and this healing is related to giving your own opinions recognition and importance. give your own thoughts the value that you feel like they lack. even if everyone else around you seems to value what they’re saying over you. why can’t you take the same stance? choosing to embody more confidence in what you believe that your intuition is telling you will help you to connect to it. you have to be self assured in what you know that you know, otherwise other people will trample all over your words and try to devalue your opinions and your judgement. the emperor is an archetype that accurately reflects you internally. i feel like you have a lot of intelligence about many different aspects of life, but you might not look like someone who would. so people underestimate you. that’s annoying. but you’re someone who is able to teach other people many things (when they’re willing to listen) and you also know how to listen to your instincts. continue to do that.

if you’d like a private reading, please check out my pinned post 💞

• pile three •

cards: 2 of swords, the sun, queen of wands, the tower, 3 of wands, strength

accessing your intuition requires you to ignore what you see with your physical eyes and to pay more attention to what your third eye is showing you. because often times, they don’t match up. everything seems okay on the surface but you feel energetically bothered. there’s always a reason for that, so don’t brush it off like you usually do due to your empathy or compassion for people. when people are sending you evil-eye, you know. when people are jealous, you know. when you’re at your happiest, you’re connected to your intuition the strongest. your creative energy is a very powerful energy source for you - especially your inner child. your inner child is the type of kid who peeps game every damn time. they’re too smart for people lmaoo 😂 also following what makes you truly happy means that you’re being lead by your intuition. when you receive inspiration, or receive a source of confidence from somewhere, you are deeply aligned in those moments. whenever you create something - no matter what it is. it’s like there’s a flow and a confidence that may not be found when you’re dealing with other aspects of life. your creations can give you many messages from the divine. i feel like most of you have an intuition that exposes what isn’t stable and secure. it’s not afraid to destroy what is already accepted by your ego and rebuild. your intuition could expose a lot of things to you that causes you a tower moment, whether you let it be known what you’ve been shown or not. it might open you up to many new opportunities in life that may not be easily or widely accepted by others. listening to your intuition seems to lead you to a bunch of tower moments - only to bring you to a better place in life after the dust has settled and you can move forward. being in control of your ego is indicative of when you’re connected to your intuition the most. your ego may try to argue against your intuition, but the part of you that continues to believe and follow what you’re hearing is the part of you that leads you to higher levels of consciousness and experiences in life.

if you’d like a private reading, please check out my pinned post 💞

[dixons-sunshine]

The Boyfriend Assessment | Quarters Of The Undead AU

Summary: Meeting your best friend’s boyfriend for the first time was never easy. In Georgianna’s case, meeting Vec’s boyfriend felt like a life or death situation—until it didn’t.

Warnings: I can’t think of anything.

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: First official fic for this AU on my part! Aahhhh I’m so excited! I hope I captured Vec accurately, @thevegandarkelf. If not, I’d be more than happy to change a few things. Also, I know there’s no Daryl in this, but I wanted to get a head start on Georgie and Scud’s sibling rivalry. My next fic should probably include Daryl!

“How do I look?”

At the sound of her voice, Georgianna looked up from the tests she was busy grading and up at Lydia Rae Vector—or, well, Dia for her personally due to best friend reasons, and Vec for others—her roommate and absolute bestest friend in the whole world. The woman in question stood in front of Georgianna, sporting a casual yet outgoing look, all in an attempt to impress the guy that worked at the auto repair shop near Atlanta General, the same guy that was coming over for dinner so that Georgianna could finally meet the man that held her best friend’s heart as of late. The cutie with the bandana, as she had come to know him as from their extensive talks about the man.

Georgianna clicked her red pen closed and leaned back on the couch. She hummed and scanned Vec’s attire, a faux look of contemplation on her face. It was all for show, really. Vec was one of the most fashionable people she knew. If one were to give her a trash bag, she would find a way to style it. But Georgianna knew that Vec loved her reassurance nonetheless, so she always made sure to let her best friend know her honest thoughts.

“You look great, Dia,” Georgianna spoke up after a few beats of silence, her tone laced with honesty and sincerity. “Now calm down and take a few deep breaths, okay?”

Vec took her advice and followed the breathing patterns Georgianna was demonstrating. Once she was certain she was not going to freak out, Vec sighed. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Georgianna stood up from the couch and made her way over to Vec, closely inspecting her rather nervous stature, something that was rather uncommon for the usually confident, straightforward woman. “What’s up, babe? What’s got you so worried? I’m the one that should be nervous.”

“I don’t even really know,” Vec admitted with a small groan. “I mean, when it’s just me and him, everything is so natural. He matches my freak, y’know? And obviously, when it’s just you and me, we can talk about anything and nothing all at once. But—”

“You’re nervous about how we’ll feel about each other,” Georgianna finished for her, instantly understanding where her worry was coming from.

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Dia, you don’t have to worry about what we think of each other, okay? Even if we end up despising each other, I won’t let it affect you. I’ll learn to tolerate him. But I’m sure that won’t even be necessary. I’m sure I’m gonna love him. Well, not like that, of course. He’s your man. I would never betray your trust like that. I—”

“I get what you meant,” Vec interrupted her with a light laugh, knowing well that if she did not, Georgianna would go on a rant in an attempt to explain something she did not have to in the first place. Georgianna had a tendency to overthink, and Vec was the anchor that helped her in those types of situations.

Georgianna sighed and shrugged. “Besides, if this guy—”

“Josh.”

“—Josh is as great as you say he is, then I’m sure we’re gonna get along great.” When Vec nodded, Georgianna continued. “Now calm down, okay? Tonight’s gonna go just fine.”

“You’re right,” Vec agreed. “It will be fine.”

The doorbell to the two women’s shared apartment rung, making them both look over at it. Georgianna frowned and looked up at the clock on the wall, before looking back at her best friend. “It’s only five thirty. I thought he was gonna be here at seven.”

Vec shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, I told him to be here any time after five if he wanted. I didn’t think he was actually gonna be so early.” Her earlier nerves being replaced with an idea she deemed positively brilliant, Vec smiled. “It gives the two of you the time to get to know each other while I make dinner!”

“You’re kidding,” Georgianna exclaimed in a hushed whisper. “Dia, you can’t leave me alone with him! The living room is a mess! And you know what—”

“What a flibbertigibbet you can be when you’re nervous. Yes, I know, but I also know that he wouldn’t mind that.” Vec gripped Georgianna’s shoulder in—what she hoped was—reassurance. “Believe me, he doesn’t mind messes at all. And besides, I seriously doubt five test papers can qualify as a mess. You’ll be fine, Ginny. I promise. Think of this as a parent-teacher conference.”

Georgianna hesitantly nodded. “Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

“Perfect, because you don’t really have a choice.”

Before Georgianna could say anything, Vec backed away from the woman and stalked towards the door. She opened the wooden barrier between her and her boyfriend, and smiled brightly at the man on the other end. Georgianna forced herself to relax, trying to remind herself that this was not a big deal. She loved meeting new people. She strived for social interactions. She was a complete social butterfly. She could do this.

“Josh, hey!” Vec greeted the man enthusiastically.

If it was not for the fact that she had seen it with her own eyes, Georgianna would never have thought she was nervous at all. Vec truly was a master at changing her emotions in a matter of seconds. Georgianna often joked that her best friend should have gone into the acting business instead of surgery due to that little fact alone.

“Heya, Vee.”

Vec leaned forward and gave the man a quick peck on the lips, before beckoning him inside. “C’mon, you gotta meet Georgie.”

Got to was a bit of an overstatement, Georgianna thought to herself. However, she forced herself to calm down and plastered a smile onto her face. This meeting meant a lot to Vec, and by god, Georgianna was going to ensure that it went as smoothly as humanly possible.

The moment Georgianna’s eyes landed on the man she had heard so much about, the woman had to resist the urge to comment on his choice of clothing. He wore a shirt that had some science joke on it, with a pair of jeans that had definitely seen better days, a big puffer jacket and a pair of sneakers that had a bunch of small doodles on the side. He even wore a bandana, but from the various conversations she had with Vec regarding the cutie with the bandana, Georgianna had expected that last part.

The couple walked into the living room and came to a stop a few feet away from Georgianna. She exchanged a look with Vec, before turning back to the man—Josh—and extended her hand.

“Hi. I’m Georgianna,” she greeted in a tone of voice that closely resembled the one she used when greeting the parents of the kids she taught. “Georgianna Marianne Hawkins.” She had no idea why she had felt the need to give her full government name, but there was no going back now.

The man smiled and gripped her hand in his and shook it once. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He removed his hand from hers and motioned towards himself. “I’m Joshua Frohmeyer, but you can call me Scud. Just about everybody does.”

Georgianna nodded and looked at Scud with a scrutinising gaze. It got quiet for a few moments, before Scud chuckled awkwardly and cleared his throat. “Okay, then. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall, first door to the right,” Vec explained, smiling at him as he kissed her on the cheek and disappeared down the hall. When she heard the door close, she turned back to Georgianna. “What was that about?”

“What do you mean?” Georgianna inquired with a confused frown.

“You know, that look you gave him. Like you’re a dad trying to figure out his intentions with your daughter.”

“You trying to insinuate you see me as your mom?” When Vec simply sent her a pointed look, Georgianna laughed and shook her head. “Okay, okay. I just… I guess I just don’t really understand something.”

That got Vec’s attention. “What do you mean?”

“You kept going on about the cutie with the bandana, and I just don’t get it. I mean, I can clearly see that he’s wearing a bandana, but I’m struggling to see how the word ‘cutie’ comes into play here.”

The clearing of someone’s throat slightly startled both Vec and Georgianna. Whipping around, she came face-to-face with none other than the man she had been talking about a few moments prior. Georgianna would have felt embarrassed, but for some reason unbeknownst to her, she did not.

Scud went and stood next to Vec once more, his blue eyes studying Georgianna’s face intently. “Well, then it’s a good thing it’s only her opinion that matters.” For added emphasis, he motioned towards Vec.

Georgianna crossed her arms over her chest and met Scud’s gaze head-on. She did not know where this sudden surge of confidence came from, but there was just something about the man in front of her that made her feel weirdly at ease, like she could speak her mind without having to fear looking like an absolute fool. She could not explain the odd feeling.

“Well,” she began matter-of-factly, “considering the fact that Vec came to me for the initial “yes or nah” evaluation of you, I personally think that my opinion holds a ton of value.”

Scud simply stared at her with a deadpan look. “Not in this case, it doesn’t. In fact, any opinions ya have of me will be taken with a grain of salt.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, I think—”

“Okay!” Vec interrupted. Maybe leaving them alone to talk wouldn’t be such a brilliant idea after all, Vec thought to herself. In an attempt to ease what she thought was an uncomfortable tension, she turned to Scud. “How about you help me in the kitchen while Georgie finishes up with her work?”

Scud shrugged and nodded. “Sounds good to me.” He turned to Georgianna with a smirk on his face. “That okay with you, Marianne? Considering your opinion holds so much value?”

Georgianna rolled her eyes at his comment, and the unnecessary emphasis of her middle name. She knew exactly why he did that. Vec must have told him how much she hated being addressed by her middle name. It was the perfect way to take a jab at her without outright insulting her.

“Yes, it’s completely fine with me, Joshua. Just don’t burn my kitchen down while you’re at it,” Georgianna replied, emphasizing his name as well and smirking slightly at the way he cringed at that. Vec had told Georgianna how much Scud hated being addressed by his full first name, so now that once unimportant piece of information had turned way more vital for the Hawkins woman.

“Guys,” Vec chimed in, her eyes darting between her best friend and her boyfriend, “please don’t.”

Georgianna and Vec shared a look, before the former moved over towards the couch and sat back down in front of the test that had laid momentarily forgotten. “Whatever you make, remember—”

“No onions or tomatoes. Yes, I know.”

With that, Vec ushered Scud into the kitchen, leaving Georgianna alone in the living room. With one last look towards where the couple had stood only moments prior, she picked up her pen and resumed with her task of grading the paper, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Yeah, Georgianna had a feeling that her and Scud were going to get along just fine.

“Thanks for coming over, Josh.”

“Of course. This was great.” Scud leaned down and pressed a soft, tender peck to Vec’s lips. He shrugged his jacket on and sent Vec a charming, heartfelt smile.

Georgianna—who stood off to the side—simply observed the couple with a small, fond smile on her face. The two truly did make a terrific pair. They complimented each other’s personalities beautifully. All throughout dinner, Georgianna had noticed how Scud’s eyes barely strayed away from her best friend, even when Vec was not looking. They were perfect for one another, and Georgianna was beyond happy that her best friend had finally found the person that was meant for her.

Georgianna liked Scud. She could see that he was a great guy. Despite only officially knowing him for a few hours, Georgianna felt like she had known him her whole life. Her usual very slight awkwardness when meeting new people failed to make an appearance with Scud, and that little fact spoke volumes. All throughout dinner, Scud and Georgianna made jokes and took playful jabs at one another, like they were siblings just catching up at a family dinner instead of being complete strangers to the other.

Scud’s eyes shifted over to Georgianna, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Good night, Marianne.”

“Night, Joshua,” Georgianna greeted with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

With one last kiss to Vec’s cheek, Scud disappeared out of the front door. Closing the door behind her, Vec locked it, made her way over to the couch and collapsed onto it. With a heavy sigh, she looked up at Georgianna, her blue eyes sparkling in the dim light of the living room.

“So,” she began, her eyes following Georgianna as the aforementioned woman went about tidying up the living room, “I have a feeling that you don’t particularly like him.”

“Who, Scud?” Georgianna asked rhetorically, though she still received a nod from Vec. “Oh, no, he’s great. I like him. I can totally see why you fell for him. He’s not my type, but he’s yours and I can see myself becoming great friends with him.”

That confused Vec. Her eyebrows furrowed behind her glasses as she gazed up at the brown-haired woman. “I—what? Huh?”

“What’s wrong?” Georgianna inquired, completely taken aback by her friend’s strange behaviour. “You sound like you’re having a stroke.”

“The two of you didn’t stop taking jabs at each other all night!” Vec exclaimed, her tone evidently laced with confusion. “It sounded like you hated him.”

“I don’t hate him. He’s actually really cool, and I could tell that he didn’t mean what he was saying. You know I’m good at reading people, Dia. He’s a good guy and he clearly makes you happy.” Georgianna sat down on the armchair, a sigh leaving her chest. “Besides, his “insults” were kinda weak. I’ve had way worse things said to me before.”

Vec smiled at her. “So he has your stamp of approval?”

Georgianna nodded. “He does.”

“Then it definitely makes me feel better about giving him your number.”

“You gave him my number?” Georgianna asked, although she was just curious, not angry. “Why?”

“I gave it to him a while ago,” Vec replied with a shrug. “It was just in case there happened to be an emergency and I couldn’t call you with my phone. I completely forgot to tell you that I did. I’m sorry.”

Georgianna nodded slowly. “Okay, yeah. That makes sense. And it’s fine.” Vec was just about to say something else, but a yawn cut her off, making Georgianna chuckle. “Go to bed, Dia. I’ll clean up.”

“You sure?” When Georgianna nodded, Vec got up from the couch. “You’re the best, Ginny. I love you.”

“Love you too, Dia. Now go to bed. You have an early shift tomorrow.”

Vec nodded, and with that, she disappeared down the hall and into her bedroom. A few seconds after the door was shut, Georgianna’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She took her phone out, opened it and read the text that had come through.

Unknown: hiya, Marianne. It’s Scud. Thought I’d shoot ya a text to thank you for having me over. It was fun.

Unknown: By the way, I hope you didn’t take my “insults” to heart. I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just playful banter.

Georgianna shook her head at the texts. She quickly saved the number to her phone, before replying to him.

Georgie: Don’t worry, I know. Same here. I didn’t mean anything by it.

Joshua: Good to know.

Joshua: Anyways, I gotta go. Nightly call with my bae. She’s way better company than you. Sorry about that.

The moment Georgianna read that text, she heard the muffled sound of Vec’s ringtone, before it got silenced by the enthusiastic “hey, babe! You home yet?” from the aforementioned woman. Georgianna smiled at the clear-as-day happiness her best friend exuded. She put her phone down on the table and made her way to the kitchen, humming to herself as she went about cleaning up the mess.

Scud made Vec beyond happy, and that was enough for Georgianna to decide that her and Scud would get along just fine.

Georgie belongs to me.

Vec belongs to @thevegandarkelf.

Comment/DM/inbox me to be added to the taglist for this AU!