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baronessvonglitter · 10 hours ago

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Law of Attraction ~ Chapter 4

Rom Con AU divorce lawyer!Dave York x fem!Reader

Word count: 2,759

Summary: You and Dave naturally become closer in a friendship comprised of two lonely people.

WARNINGS: Rated T. No smut, but there is brief mention of a fantasy (nothing described). Dave is a capital S - Simp! No physical infidelity but definitely an emotional affair. Fluff. Idiots falling in love and they don't even know it yet. No use of y/n.

Author's note: I wanted to give these two some more time together to let their romance blossom. They keep going on dates that are not dates but are totally dates. I want to thank everyone who's shown love for this lil series of mine, which is honestly such a surprise because I wrote it thinking people would pan it. I will strive to keep bringing y'all some rom com goodness 🩷

Series Masterlist

Out of sight, out of mind. But even when you're not in sight, you're still on Dave's mind.

He starts his morning early, a brisk run through the park, a shower, selecting a suit for that day, rifling through the abundance of ties he has on a spinning rack in the walk-in close he shares with Carol.

Nine times out of ten she disapproves, making a face when he comes down, swiftly putting down her tea so she can remove whatever color or print has offended her eyes and telling him which one to wear. Though he's a lawyer he's not going to argue with his wife. He goes upstairs and switches it out for the one Carol wants.

Breakfast is usually had on the go, but he makes sure the girls get to school with something nutritious in their bellies, walking them to the school doors and kissing the tops of their heads before they disappear inside. He's aware of the looks some of the mothers and even the teachers give him, and he gives a friendly wave or smile to each, but he's not thinking about their smiles and sultry 'good morning' greetings.

He thinks about you more often than he should, considering you're no longer his client. But he appreciates that you promote his services on the corkboard near the register at your bakery.

A smile stays on his face all day when you send over a thank-you gift of an assortment of bagels and muffins, complete with flavored cream cheese, butter, and jam. It's the most thoughtful thing anyone's done for him in a long time, made concrete when he spots a special blueberry muffin in a separate pastry box from the others, with a little note tucked inside:

I can't thank you enough, Dave. I'll always appreciate what you've done for me. Your name is signed on the bottom.

There's a slight scent on the paper, probably the perfume on your wrist that rubbed off as you wrote the note. He presses it to his lips just briefly.

He goes to your cafe every morning, heart racing, gut twisting with anticipation of seeing you. He subtly checks himself in the window before going in, making sure his hair looks okay and his tie is straight.

On the days he doesn't see you there, disappointment sits heavy in his chest, similar to a kind of heartbreak, as he orders his coffee and heads across the street to work.

He tries not to look overeager when he does see you behind the counter, though he feels the blood rush to his face (and even lower, if he's honest). Sure, he's found other women attractive, but he hasn't had a crush since high school.

And that's just what this is - a crush.

You're beautiful and kind and funny and smart. And single.

And he's married.

Still, it's not a crime to get a coffee and a raspberry danish just because the owner is a stunning and sweet former client.

You greet him with a smile that's different from others, special, set aside, more genuine. And he returns that smile. You've stopped insisting he doesn't need to pay, and take his credit card with a little smirk as you spy him putting money in the tip jar.

"What? Business is obviously terrible," he returns your smirk, glancing back at the line that's formed, that forms every day in fact. You haven't had a bad business day in awhile, and he's happy to be a small part of your patronage.

Every day is too much, right? It's not like you have much time to chat anyway. A quick hello, do anything fun over the weekend, hope you have a good day.

He makes the choice to go just three days a week. He's worried he might come off as a stalker, some deranged guy wanting your attention because you're single now. On the days he doesn't come to your cafe he stays at the office, puts his coffee order in with a group DoorDashing from Starbucks or Dunkin' Donuts, and it never tastes the same as yours.

It doesn't help that you're suddenly gone for a week. Then two. The last time you'd been absent was right after your breakup with that asshole Javier, and he worries about you. In between meetings and consultations, he finds your file with your phone number, but thinks twice about calling or texting you.

The next time he's at the cafe he casually asks the young man at the register, "Hey, I haven't seen the big boss in awhile," and the cashier tells him your on a vacation with your family.

He's grateful you're okay, and glad you're enjoying yourself after all you've been through so far. But it doesn't really ease the ache that gnaws at him like a fresh bruise that has yet to turn an odd color.

It takes him completely by surprise when, the next time he does see you, you pull him aside to show him your photos from the cruise you took with your parents and siblings, turquoise-polished thumb swiping gracefully over photos of you with your family posing in front of a huge cruise ship; some scenery shots of the ocean and pink sands of the Bahamas; and others of you hanging out on the pool deck sipping a fruity orange drink, a beatific smile on your lips. Dave gives a small cough when he sees one of you in your swimsuit, obviously just a selfie and not meant to be seen by him. He blushes as you click out of the photos.

"Sorry, I guess I just wanted to tell someone how it went," you tell him, putting your phone away.

"Don't be sorry. Looks like you had fun."

"I was a little seasick the first few days. It was awful," you laugh.

"I know how you feel. My wife and I took the kids on one of those Disney cruises last year, and I'd never been happier to set foot on dry land."

He asks you more about the sights, the beaches, the restaurants. There's nothing better than the smile that lights up your face as you talk about your experiences, and he hangs onto every word.

Suddenly there's a buzzing in his pocket. He reaches quickly for his phone and learns he's late for a meeting with a new client. He curses quietly. "I have to go," he apologizes. "We should catch up later."

"Lunch tomorrow?" It's hard for him to ignore the hopefulness in your voice, the notes of which sing straight into his heart.

"Tomorrow," he nods and smiles, heading out.

It's just supposed to be one lunch. Just two people who know each other and get along well. Just friends, but even Dave doesn't dare to let his mind venture too far into any further possibilities because of the fact that you're vulnerable.

Dave wants to feel guilty for monopolizing your free time, especially considering the way he feels about you. But then one lunch turns into two, and then three. and it becomes the most natural thing in the world to meet with you for an hour or so during the day. There's a significance in carving out time for each other that neither of you mention as an easy, genuine affinity blooms between you.

He's never texted another woman simply because he wants to. Everything has been business related, but he catches the way his heart skips a beat when he receives a text from you. Due to the nature of his work he keeps some privacy by only showing your name and not the message itself on his home screen. It's usually something related to your plans:

I heard that new sandwich place is really good. We should lunch there soon.

I'm trying out a new muffin recipe. Stop by tomorrow and tell me what you think.

They're featuring Monet at the museum this week and I'd love to get you in for free again!

It's not a date, but quite reminiscent of one when he does meet you on the front steps of the museum. His hand naturally rests on the small of your back, a gesture born of protectiveness and intimacy. You don't smell of roses this time, but something softer, sweeter, indefinably you. Dressed all in pink, from the casual long sleeve shirt and sequined skirt to the flowers you're idly twirling in your fingers, you look like a dream.

He never feels at peace unless he's in your presence, a fact which he tries like hell not to think about. You're not even trying to be alluring, and that's the hard part. If you'd make a move he'd politely sidestep it (or at least he tells himself he would) but you're just friendly, approachable, sweet.

You watch the art and Dave watches you. Your profile, the way your eyes squint slightly when you're really trying to see the details of the paintings, the quick pink tongue that peeks out to wet your lips now and then. And when you catch him staring at you, you have the audacity to smile, give him a playful shove. It could be your slight warning, your reminder that he's married and you're friends. But he doesn't mind the contact, as brief as it is.

As he walks you to your car it starts pouring down rain. Sans umbrella, he whisks you under the nearest canopy to wait out the sudden shower.

"How did you know I wanted to see a movie?" you tease him, and he looks up to see you're taking shelter under a marquee heralding classic films.

"Shall we?" he asks, and after purchasing two tickets you find your way inside. The theater is cozy and warm as The Apartment plays onscreen. Your fingers touch while you share the popcorn bucket, and he chuckles when you get brain freeze from your cherry icee.

"Are you okay?" he asks, slipping his arm around your shoulders. It's an involuntary act that doesn't register until he feels the warmth of your body under his touch and he tenses around you for a moment.

He's tempted to leave it there for the rest of the movie, but he knows how it would sound if someone saw him here with you and it got back to Carol. He could probably talk his way out of it if she ever questioned him, but he also knows she's so preoccupied with her own life that she'd be completely oblivious if he were to bring you home and do ungentlemanly things to you in front of her.

"What does she do?" you ask as you're sharing a post-movie snack at the cafe. It's near closing time and you've whipped up Monte Cristo sandwiches and hot herbal tea. ("I just love tea after a good rain," you'd told him, and he stashed away that little fact in his ever-growing file of you in his brain.)

"Carol's a hospital director at Mercy Memorial," he says, hoping that saying her name out loud will ward off the thoughts he's having about you.

"That sounds pretty important. A lawyer and a hospital director.." you sip your drink, letting the heat from the cup warm your hands.

"She likes taking charge and making decisions," he shrugs. "I guess you could say it suits her."

You'd brought her up simply because you felt you needed to. Spending all this extra time with someone whose wife you weren't even acquainted with was starting to feel like a secret you could never spill. You thought about all the women you know Javier had been involved with, knowing he was taken. Did they ever stop and think about you and how their actions would hurt you?

Then again, you doubt any of Javier's whores had daydreamed over Monet paintings with him, or shared a laugh over an old black and white film. They likely never ran through rain sprinkles or cooked a late night meal together.

But it doesn't necessarily make you innocent.

"What would she say about us.. hanging out?"

Dave really thinks about the question. "I don't know, " he says at last. "She might not even care."

"Don't say that," you tell him immediately. "She's been with you for so long. She obviously loves you and the girls." When Dave goes quiet over this, you fill the silence before it can become awkward. "Sorry.. I didn't mean to put a damper on our day."

Our day. Dave has to smile at the comforting sound those words have."I'm sorry," he says. "I wish I knew what was going on in Carol's head. It sometimes feels like we're in a chess match and she's playing by a different set of rules that's never existed before."

You lean forward in your seat, listening.

"She's a control freak," he says at last. "She works too much and criticizes people for what they lack. I proposed to her when I was in law school and she refused, saying she wanted to be engaged to an actual attorney. She wouldn't say yes until I passed the bar."

That should have been the first red flag, he knows that now. But he was young and in love. Carol had first dated Dave's college roommate before things went sour with them. Now he knows she just wanted to marry status.

"She hated that I changed fields. Criminal law is where most of us can make a name for ourselves, but I wanted something else. She gave me the cold shoulder for three weeks when I switched to family law." He chuckles at it now, but at the time he felt like nothing he could do was ever good enough for her. Any time he was happy she seemed to be the opposite.

"And then the kids came and every perspective I had changed. Children can bring a couple together. But more often they split you apart."

"Alice and Molly are great," you tell him, sensing he needs some positive reassurance. "They're such sweet kids."

Dave agrees smiling. "And how are you doing? How's living on your own for the first time?"

A dry, bitter chuckle leaves you. "I'm considering getting a cat. But I know I'd pick up stray after stray.. I'm continually one cat away from being the Crazy Lonely Cat Woman."

"You should get a dog," he says.

"Do you have one?"

He shakes his head. "Can't. Carol's allergic."

"Then I'll definitely get one. We'll pick out a dog together and I'll keep it at my place, and you can come and visit whenever you want."

"That actually sounds like a nice idea.."

"What kind of dog should we get? A nice golden retriever? Labradoodle? Shiba Inu?"

"I'm pretty sure that last one's made up," he smirks. And yet it feels so normal, discussing something so domestic with you, and the thought of sharing any kind of space with you sets a new beat to his heart, as if redirecting and resetting it.

Later after you've closed up he walks you to your car. There's a chill in the air and you've rolled your sleeves down. You've put the pink flowers you had from earlier that day in your purse. When you release them they fill the air between you with their fragrance. "Give these to Carol," you tell him, hating to waste the last of their beauty forgotten on your dashboard.

"And, do me another favor, Dave?" He turns back to you when you call out.

You smile, holding his gaze a little longer. "Wear blue more often. It brings out your eyes.."

Carol doesn't come home until after Dave is already awake. She either ignores or doesn't notice the flowers he left on her pillow, and it pleases him to have a reminder of you in his own bed, as if you've already made your mark on something so intimate.

Later when he comes downstairs in a navy suit and royal blue tie, he ignores Carol's critical stare as he grabs an apple from the counter.

"Darling, change something about that suit. You look like you're going to a wedding."

He shakes his head, enjoying the look on his wife's face when he refuses to comply. "I like it. Blue's my color."

"At least get that ridiculous wilted flower out of your pocket."

He pats the pink bloom you gave him the night before, a small symbol of his insubordination and leaves without saying anything, pulling out his phone to text you good morning.

dividers by @strangergraphics 👑

taglist: @penascigarette @joelalorian @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

@darkheartgatita @speaktothehandpeasants @rav3n-pascal22

@vickie5446 @mrs-pedro-pascal @zascal @sunnytuliptime

@mysticsuitcasealmondwombat @joelmillerisapunk @almostfoxglove

@itwasntimethatdidit40 @604to647 @milla-frenchy

@everybodylovedcontractors @misstokyo7love @ppascalq

@almostempty

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worstmombracket · 2 years ago

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The Worst Dad Bracket Masterpost

ROUND 4: Ends Thursday, May 25th at 2:00 PM CST

Feel free to send in any propaganda for the shitty dad YOU think should win the coveted World's Worst Dad cup!

1A Matchups:

Enji "Endeavor" Todoroki (My Hero Academia) vs Dr. Martin Brenner (Stranger Things) - Battle of the Training From Hell Dads Winner: Endeavor

Donald Davenport (Lab Rats) vs Preston Northwest (Gravity Falls) - Battle of the Rich Dads Winner: Preston Northwest

Bro Strider (Homestuck) vs Every Dad from Fire Emblem Fates (Fire Emblem Fates) - Battle of the Dads of Timey Wimey Nonsense Kids Winner: Bro Strider

Mr. Turner (Fairly Oddparents) vs Martin Blyndeff (Epiteth Erased) - Battle of the Dads of Kids who Should Not Have That Responsibility Winner: Martin Blyndeff

Straff Venture (Mistborn) vs Viren (The Dragon Prince) - Battle of Dads I Know Nothing About Winner: Straff Venture

Iemitsu Sawada (Katekyo Hitman Reborn!) vs Jacques Schnee (RWBY) - Battle of Mafia vs Robber Baron Dads Winner: Jacques Schnee

John Winchester (Supernatural) vs Trigon (Teen Titans) - Battle of the Demon Hunter and Demon Dads Winner: John Winchester

John "Jod" Gaius (The Locked Tomb) vs Nyarlathotep (Persona 2) - Battle of the Dads Whose Submission Reasonings Made Me Go WTF the Most Winner: John "Jod" Gaius

1B Matchups:

Clay Puppington (Moral Orel) vs Claude Frollo (The Hunchback of Notre Dame) - Battle of the Religious Trauma Dads Winner: Claude Frollo

William Afton (Five Nights At Freddy's) vs Roy (Don't Hug Me I'm Scared) - Battle of the Purple and Yellow Dads Winner: William Afton

Walter White (Breaking Bad) vs Homer Simpson (The Simpsons) - Battle of the Bald Dads Winner: Walter White

Buck Cluck (Chicken Little) vs Ghetsis (Pokémon Black and White) - Battle of the Animal Abuse Dads Winner: Ghetsis

Masayoshi Shido (Persona 5) vs Manfred von Karma (Ace Attorney) - Battle of Your Rival's Shitty Dads Winner: Manfred von Karma

Harry Wormwood (Matilda) vs Gabe "Smelly Gabe" Ugliano (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) - Battle of the Ordinary Shitty Dads with Extraordinary Powerful Kids Winner: Harry Wormwood

Gabriel Agreste (Miraculous Ladybug) vs Gozaburo Kaiba (Yu-Gi-Oh!) - Battle of the Corporate Shithead Dads Winner: Gabriel Agreste

Gendo Ikari (Neon Genesis Evangelion) vs Firelord Ozai (Avatar: The Last Airbender) - Battle of the Dads of Kids in Desperate Need of Therapy Winner: Firelord Ozai 2A Matchups:

Enji "Endeavor" Todoroki (BNHA) vs Preston Northwest (Gravity Falls) - Battle of the Classless High Class Dads

Winner: Endeavor

Bro Strider (Homestuck) vs Martin Blyndeff (Epithet Erased) - Battle of the Neglectful Toy Enthusiast Dads

Winner: Martin Blyndeff

Straff Venture (Mistborn) vs Jacques Schnee (RWBY) - Battle of the Arshitocracy Dads

Winner: Straff Venture

John Winchester (Supernatural) vs John "Jod" Gaius (The Locked Tomb) - Battle of the John Dads

Winner: John Gaius

2B Matchups:

Claude Frollo (The Hunchback of Notre Dame) vs William Afton (FNAF) - Battle of the Burning Dads

Winner: Claude Frollo

Walter White (Breaking Bad) vs Ghetsis (Pokemon Black & White) - Battle of the Kingpin Dads

Winner: Ghetsis

Manfred von Karma (Ace Attorney) vs Harry Wormwood (Mathilda) - Battle of the there's not a coherent theme here ngl dads

Winner: Von Karma

Gabriel Agreste (Miraculous Ladybug) vs Firelord Ozai (ATLA) - Battle of the Big Bad Dads

Winner: Fire Lord Ozai

Round 3 Matchups:

Endeavor vs Martin Blyndeff - Battle of the Selfish Dads

Winner: Martin Blyndeff

Straff Venture vs John Gaius - Battle of the Literary Dads

Winner: Straff Venture

Claude Frollo vs Ghetsis - Battle of the Ominous Latin Chorus Dads

Winner: Claude Frollo

Manfred von Karma vs Fire Lord Ozai - Battle of the Rival’s Shitty Dad… 2!

Winner: Fire Lord Ozai

Round 4 Semifinals Matchups:

Martin Blyndeff vs Straff Venture - Battle of the Dark Horse Dads

Claude Frollo vs Fire Lord Ozai - Battle of the Awful Authorities Dads

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crookedfivefingers · 1 month ago

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3.13 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴏʀᴅꜱ

link to the post I accidentally wound up prattling endlessly about in the tags 💀

#doctor who #tenth doctor #martha jones #david tennant #freema agyeman #(good god. without even meaning to I went into 'psycho stream of consciousness tagging' mode. whoops)#always thinking of that one post #where OP mentions how the writing tries to make it seem like Ten looked right through Martha/etc #which is a good concept for demonstrating his grief. but also isnt what we really see throughout S3 #(not saying he wasn't a grieving MESS because he was. but he's a multi-faceted character and he can grieve AND value Martha simultaneously)#but we see such fierce protective instinct+trust; a bond between them that obviously isn't some one-sided affair #+ his clear intent to impress her/be admired and respected by her (apropos the post that inspired this sentiment)#but RTD obviously isn't the most infallible of writers #*cough* [list of reasons I cut down b/c long] *cough*#He can make Martha say “he's not seeing me/he doesn't look at me” but then you just watch with your eyes and you get a different story #It's like the opposite of when Moffat tries to make you believe someone is super important through bold claims without showing his work #instead RTD tries to make you believe Ten is functionally blind to Martha's existence while showing numerous examples of the contrary #then bring in the novels+myspace blog+cartoon that he all signed off on. Which tie together to create a canon backdrop #basically I said all of that to say this—#it's the whole reason I had to make this blog to get this sort of stuff off my chest (even if it's just for me sometimes)—#Ten not only SAW Martha—he trusted+respected+enjoyed+adored her. And it's a good thing #it doesn't cheapen his grief. I feel like people must think it does which is why I constantly see bad unnecessary takes about them #it just means that Martha was SO important to him and it's ok. they had a killer friendship outside the unrequited minutiae and it's ok #there's even a comic where 'someone' makes him believe she's Martha and he makes her change her appearance because “it's still too raw”#Just saying you don't say that sort of thing about someone whose existence you're all blasé about #Martha already gets fucked by the narrative in enough ways without people totally missing her significance in the Doctor's life #you don't have to ship them to appreciate them on a deeper level #anyway. fuck. if you actually read all of these then I'm so sorry #creating this blog has taught me that there are only like two people who feel the same way about tenmartha matters and it’s fine 😂#but if I didn’t give myself an outlet it would probably form a tumor SO there we are then

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zepskies · 15 hours ago

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Merry Christmas Eve Eve!!!!!! 🥳❄️❄️

It's my favorite holiday for sure! And thanks for this little gift you've given me, Wayne. 😘❤️💚

Ooooh, snappy 😆 I've been diving into the books a bit and I do think they still have some tough things to talk out. The show's making it look way too easy lol

Ok more and more you're making me want to dive into the actual books!! It's true, the show really did shoulder through that pretty quickly lol.

But I loved all the kindergarten teasing and bantering between them. Such a fun moment! 🤍

Aw thank you!! 💜💜 I had a lot of fun creating the sibling banter moments between Russell and Colter, whether it was light and teasing or tense and angsty.

Read this fully in Bobby's voice. You totally nailed his cadence too! You're killing it here, Alex!! 👏👏

Omg thank youuu! I watched some episodes over again to try and get Bobby's voice right, even in this small moment. 🥰🥰

Ahaha knew it! Right on time too 😂 He really cares for her a lot after such a short amount of time already 🥹❤️

He really does. 🥹 I really tried my best to show that they do have this connection that's special (and worth not letting go of?), despite only knowing each other for a short time. 💕

You're a hopeless romantic. You wouldn't do this to me, right? Right, Alex???? 😭

They do share similarities 🤣🤣

Lmfaoo right?!! And not just because they're both actually "Justin."

(They could actually be bros, like what? 🤣)

I do love how resourceful he always is 🤓👏

See, that for me was actually the challenge narratively. Writing Colter and his intelligence believably, since of course, I'm not the brilliant author of the actual books. 😅😅 But I hope I faked it well enough in this story! lol

Like the reader, I'm not surprised but was hoping it wouldn't be this bad. Geez, Charlie, you call this getting your shit together? 🙄

Oh, Charlie's a ridiculous hot mess lmaoo. He's not doing himself any favors, even when he tries to "fix it."

Why? No, not the woods!! 😂 (Being lost in a forest is one of my worst nightmares lol)

Ya know, I totally get that. 😂 I don't live near forests, but I'm pretty sure Colter would have to come find my ass after 1 hour alone out there in the wilderness.

Russell's dark side is doing things to me... 🫠🫠

Ooof, why do I love a rugged, dangerous but protective man so much?

Figured something like this happened. I do feel for him, though. It's called addiction for a reason ❤️‍🩹 His argument for stealing was hilarious, however. Like, boo, really? Don't pretend you care about the Native Americans now. I think he knows his sister too well and figured this might work 😂

Oooh yeah. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 It's certainly not cut and dry.

Oh, you're totally valid for calling Charlie out like that lmaooo. Even the reader is calling him out on his BS. 😂 The way he tries to get "noble" about those Native American artifacts isn't fooling anybody.

You did it, too!!!! The "I love you" goodbye!! 🤣

Omggg you really caught me! 🤣🤣 What can I say, it's the perfect dramatic moment. 😏

Anything can happen from here, and I so hope you enjoy the rest of the ride down the cliffhanger!! 😘💕

Every Second Counts - Part 3

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him.

AN: *Deep breaths* Are you ready? 😉

Word Count: 4.4K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, protective Russell, perilous situations, violence, character death, and another (literal) cliffhanger…

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 3: "Timer Starts Now"

As he drove away from the museum, Colter could see it even more clearly.

“You like her,” he said, giving his older brother a smile.

Russell glanced at him, then rolled his eyes.

“Focus on the road,” he said.

“Just admit it. You like her,” Colter smirked. “And the fact that she called you for help isn’t a coincidence.”

Russell made a sound of annoyance and shook his head. At this point, he knew Colter wasn’t going to drop the subject.

“All right, we went out on one date,” Russell held up a finger. “It was fun, but we agreed that I’m just not relationship material.”

Colter sobered at that, at the wry tone of his voice. It sounded like Russell liked you even more than he was willing to admit.

“Do you have a timeline on that brewery?” Colter asked.

Russell chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, I’m just a few dollars short on that one.”

He stared out the window for a while, but he eventually turned back to his brother.

“She called me because her brother’s a vet. Because I know what it’s like to deal with the assimilation process, coming back to civilian life. Trying to figure out where you belong, you know?” he said.

“You think you’ve assimilated?” Colter asked.

Russell shrugged. “Best I know how, anyway.”

“You can’t really call yourself a civilian though, can you?” Colter pointed out.

Russell shot him a look. “Yeah well, neither can you, Colt.”

That created a kind of tension in the car. A call from Bobby, Colter’s analyst, mercifully broke the silence. He’d gotten some useful information on Eddie Mendez, the man Charlie was supposedly working with, or for.

“Well, he’s not the most upstanding citizen,” Bobby said. “He’s a cocaine dealer by trade. Other fun items on his rap sheet include illegal gun possession, theft, and domestic violence.”

“All right, thanks, Bobby,” Colter said.

Great, Russell shook his head. Just what had your brother gotten himself into?

They were getting closer to the bar, and it mentally brought him back to his date with you.

Okay, maybe he did like you. But he also respected and understood your reasons for cutting things short that night. Usually, he was okay with being in a new town every other week, the occasional one-night stands, the skeevy motel rooms and the fast food. It was all with a goal in mind, and that made the hustle easier.

He’d started to wonder though, what it would be like to set down roots somewhere. Doug made it work with his wife and still did his contract work, even if there were some major pros and cons to that too…

Russell was only broken out of his thoughts when he got a call himself, from Dory. He answered it and held the phone to his ear.

“Hey, D. What’s up?” he asked.

“Russell, something’s wrong,” she said. Her voice was panicked.

He frowned, his brows furrowing. “What? What happened?”

The more he listened, the more his eyes widened in shock. He looked to his brother.

“Colter, turn around. Now.”

Russell and Colter arrived back at your house, where Dory was parked out front. She came out of the safety of her car when she saw them. Russell got to her first. He laid a hand on her shoulder in the driveway.

“What happened?” he asked.

She tearfully explained that she found your purse in the bushes, but your phone was missing. She had just picked up your call when it suddenly cut off.

“But I heard her scream,” Dory said, with a stifled breath.

Russell’s mood darkened in response, and the longer he took in the scene. He looked over at Colter, who also wore a frown.

The tracker examined your car and driveway first. Already he found signs of struggle. He noticed a couple pieces of dark glass on the pavement, and when he scrutinized his surroundings further, he picked your broken phone out of the grass. The screen was cracked beyond repair.

Next, he climbed the three short steps of the porch, up to the front door of the house. There were marks on the doorknob, likely scratched by a key. He spotted the Ring Camera next.

Good. He took it right off the wall.

“Do you have her keys there?” he asked his sister. Dory handed them to him and he let himself in. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

The three of them entered your house and found it dark and empty. Colter switched the lights on and got to work, after going back to grab his laptop from the car.

Russell stayed with his sister on the couch, a supportive hand on her back. He tried to shove his anger and upset deeper below the surface.

Meanwhile, Colter had Bobby retrieve the data from the camera. Within a few minutes, he sent Colter a video file, which Colter then played on his laptop. The three of them watched you approach the door.

Someone with a man’s build grabbed you from behind, wearing dark clothes and a mask that obscured his face. You screamed and tried to fight, but the man dragged you away as you struggled.

Russell’s frown deepened as his body tensed with anger again, his jaw ticking as it clenched. And then came the self-loathing.

Rookie fucking move. Should’ve made sure she got home safe, he thought. Better yet, should’ve kept her with me.

Dory covered her trembling mouth and dissolved into tears. Russell tucked her against his side, rubbing her arm. Colter laid a hand on her shoulder as well, but he continued to analyze the footage. He couldn’t make out the attacker’s face with the mask he was wearing, but Colter saw a blue sedan in the background. It peeled off after you were hauled off-screen.

“Why would they take her? What the hell is Charlie into?” Dory said. She sniffled and wiped at her face.

“To keep her quiet after she started digging into his disappearance, possibly. Or for leverage against him,” Colter said, leveling her with honesty. “Someone doesn’t want us to find Charlie. I’m betting it’s whoever he’s working for.”

He thought it was safer if he didn’t tell his sister exactly who Charlie’s employer was.

Dory shook her head in worry. “We need to call the police.”

Colter shared a grim look with his brother. He knew Russell understood the score here.

“If we get the police involved, it’s at least a 50% chance that whoever has her and Charlie…will kill both of them,” Colter said. Dory sucked in a trembling breath.

“Our best bet is to keep digging,” Colter said.

“Let’s go,” Russell said, nodding at him. He stood, parting from his sister with a hand squeezing her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Dory asked. She got up to her feet along with her brothers.

“Howley’s. It’s our only lead on Charlie’s employer,” Colter replied.

“Okay, but wait—” Dory reached out for Russell’s arm. It was a reflex as she tried to wrap her mind around all of this.

Russell grasped her shoulders gently enough, but he made sure she saw the sense of urgency in his eyes.

“We don’t have time,” he said. “From here on out, every second counts.”

After a beat, Dory nodded in acceptance. She let go of his jacket.

“Okay, keep me updated.”

“Will do,” he said, and he swiftly followed Colter out the door.

The brothers drove in silence to the bar. Colter noted his brother’s tension, and the grim set to his jaw.

“Hey,” Colter said, earning Russell’s attention. Colter gave him a reassuring look. “We’re gonna find her. We’ll find both of them.”

Russell exhaled. “Yeah.”

Oh, he knew he’d find you eventually, and your brother. He just didn’t want to think about how he might find you.

Once they got back to Howley’s, they started by questioning the bartender about Eddie Mendez.

“He’s not here. But that’s a couple of his friends over there,” the bartender said. He pointed them in the direction of a couple of guys drinking near the back. Three of them were sitting at a table playing cards.

Russell recognized two of them. One was the same guy who made the mistake of hassling you by the pool table. He’d gotten a bloody nose for his trouble. Russell smirked at the memory.

“Pete, make a fucking move already,” said one of the guy’s buddies.

Russell caught it as he and Colter approached them. This time, Pete seemed at least somewhat sober, even with his second beer in hand. Another bottle sat empty beside his arm.

“Hey, fellas,” Russell greeted the table. “Little Blackjack, little booze. Looks like a good night you’re having.”

“Do I know you?” Pete asked. His face showed a spark of recognition when he took in Russell.

“Well, you’re about to. We’re looking for one of your friends, Eddie,” he replied.

Pete set his beer down on the table. Predictably, he crossed his arms and closed up.

“I don’t know no Eddie.”

Russell resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I realize it’s hard for you, but don’t be dumb. Eddie Mendez,” he pressed.

Pete glanced at his friends, then he stood from the table, drawing himself to his full height. He was a bit bigger than Russell, but a beer gut wasn’t everything.

Russell seized up the man in front of him with an almost lazy grin. By contrast, his eyes were sharp, betraying his true thoughts.

“Now remember. Whatever you start, I’m gonna damn well finish,” he said.

That sure ignited Pete’s memory. He seemed to be remembering your smaller fist nearly breaking his nose. His face fell with an angry frown. Russell smirked.

Colter laid a warning hand on his brother’s arm.

“We’re not looking for trouble. We’re just trying to find someone Eddie might know. Charlie,” Colter said. “Do you know him?”

“No, I don’t,” Pete claimed.

“Like you didn’t know Eddie?” Colter replied, raising a brow. “Where can we find him?”

“Now you are looking for trouble,” Pete spat. “Fuck off, Timberlake.”

Just then, Colter’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and saw a text from Dory, asking for an update. He ignored the message for now and put his phone away.

Hearing a commotion, he quickly looked up in time to realize that Russell had wrangled Pete into a stronghold with his arm behind his back and had slammed him onto the table. Drinks and bottles rattled and spilled; playing cards fell to the floor. Pete’s friends got up with angry, threatening gaits.

“I think you can point us in the right direction before I break this meaty arm of yours. How about that?” Russell said.

“Hey! No fighting!” the bartender called from the front. “Take that shit outside.”

Colter internally sighed, but he’d have to roll with this, even though this wasn’t how he’d wanted to play it.

“I wouldn’t test him,” Colter advised. “That’s gonna be a bad break. You got good health insurance, Pete? You’ll probably need surgery, expensive bills, a little physical therapy, a few months of recovery time.”

Pete seemed to weigh Colter’s logic, albeit with an angry huff. He waved off his friends and caught his breath while pinned against the table.

“I can’t talk to you,” he said. “I’ll get myself killed.”

“I’d worry more about your odds right now, Pete,” Russell said. He tightened his twisted hold on the man’s arm, earning a strangled sound of pain.

Colter weighed the options here in record time, and he came to a decision. He grasped Russell’s arm firmly.

“Let him go,” he said.

Russell gave him a look of disbelief. “Colt?”

Colter implored him with his eyes. Trust me.

After a few more seconds, Russell’s lips pursed, but he let the guy go.

“Ah, fuck,” Pete muttered. After he was able to straighten up, he rubbed his aching arm and shot them both a red-faced glare.

Colter steered his brother out of the bar before a real fight could break out. He knew it’d become a bloody mess, and they didn’t have time for a night stay in a county jail cell this time.

“You better have a damn plan,” Russell whispered, as they neared the front doors of the bar.

“You know I do,” Colter replied.

They later sat in his truck while it was still turned off. Just waiting in silence.

A few minutes went by before the back doors of the bar opened to Pete and his gaggle of delinquent friends. As Colter suspected, one of them made a call. It lasted no more than a couple of minutes. Then, they piled into Pete’s car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Colter started up his own car, and he followed them.

You were led into what sounded like a warehouse. You couldn’t know for sure with this musty bag over your head and your wrists bound together with zip ties, but you clenched your teeth and tried to stop sniffling. Your fear made your heart pump fast and loud in your ears.

Voices echoed around you, arguing, yelling about shipments. You were shoved hard to the ground, and you gasped, instinctively throwing your hands out when your knees hit the hard cement.

“No…”

That voice was all too familiar.

The bag was finally ripped off your head, the edge of it catching in your frizzy hair. You blinked wearily at the florescent lights above, and you wiped at your tears and smudged mascara. Your breath left your lungs when you saw your brother, Charlie.

He was tied to a chair, shirtless and shoeless, beaten and bloody. Some parts of his skin even looked burned. His jeans remained, at least. But his face was hard to look at. His left eye was swollen, his lip split, his cheek cut and bloody. Both his eyes were red-rimmed, and he was sweaty and dirty, as if they’d been keeping him down here like an animal. He looked thinner too.

He stared back at you in dismay, your name falling from his lips.

You tried to scramble over to him, but someone grabbed you by the hair and yanked you back. You cried out in pain.

“Eddie stop! Don’t hurt her!” he shouted. He drew enough strength to pull at his restraints. Your hands reached back on reflex to grasp at the hand holding your hair.

“No, you did this,” Eddie said. He clicked the safety off his handgun and pointed the barrel at your head, right between the eyes. You gasped and froze where you sat.

“You couldn’t make it easy, huh? Well now, I’m making it real simple for you,” he continued. “Even more simple, now that we cut out the middleman.”

Eddie gestured to what looked like a woven potato sack laid behind Charlie’s chair, but really, that was just part of it. As your eyes scanned over, you saw the narrow shoulders of a man with a familiar dark blue blazer. It was stained red with a bloody hole carved through the back. Your breath stilled in your lungs.

Eddie glanced over at you, his lips curving. He walked over to the dead body, turned it over with his boot, and dragged off the potato sack to reveal the lifeless blue eyes of Dr. Feinman.

Your eyes widened.

You let out a blood-curdling scream that startled a pigeon out of the warehouse, from where it had been perching on a high support ledge. You leaned back on your bound hands, but you could go no further as one of Eddie’s men grabbed your shoulder, pinning you on the ground. His annoyed face told you to shut the fuck up.

Charlie grimaced and turned his face from the sight of the body. Both shame and hate filled his eyes when Eddie bent down to face him.

“Tell me where you hid the goddamn weapons,” he demanded.

Your lips trembled as new tears brimmed over and streamed down your cheeks. You’d suspected the truth, but it was different from being faced with the reality. Charlie was the one who stole from the museum. He’d likely been doing a lot worse for the past few months. And somehow, Feinman had gotten in between. He’d also paid the price.

Your brother saw your disappointment, and he accepted it. But lacking an answer, Eddie pistol whipped you in the face, earning a pained cry from you as you fell back onto the ground. You had to blink the stars out of your eyes.

After his shock wore off, Charlie’s face hardened with fury.

“Oh, don’t give me that fucking face,” Eddie said. He grabbed you by the back of the neck, startling another sharp breath from you. “If you don’t tell me what I want to know, what I did to you’ll be child’s play, compared to what I’m gonna do to her. And you’re going to watch.”

Against your will, tears filled your eyes while you stared at your brother. You were terrified, and Charlie knew it. He was scared too, but he also knew then what he had to do.

“I buried them,” he admitted.

“You buried them?” Eddie repeated. He brushed back his dark hair with the same hand that held his gun. “Ain’t that ironic. All right, where did you bury them?”

“In the national forest, less than an hour out,” Charlie replied. “But you won’t find it without me.”

Eddie shook his head on a sigh. “Of fucking course.”

He gestured to his men waiting nearby. He wordlessly gave them the order to untie your brother.

“All right, Charlie. Let’s go for a drive,” he said, and gave you a sleazy smile. “You too, sweetheart.”

He hauled you up onto your feet and kept you close to him, with a hand like a vice around your arm. God, you hated a sweethearting man.

You held your breath. You could only pray that Dory had noticed you were missing…and that Russell and Colter could find you before it was too late.

Please…

It was still dark out, but the sky was beginning to lighten when Colter pulled to the side of the road. The car they followed had stopped in front of a warehouse near an industrial downtown area. Colter spotted the blue sedan from the Ring Camera footage. It was parked out front.

With a shared nod of understanding, Colter and Russell climbed out of the truck and took the time to arm themselves properly before scoping out the warehouse.

“What does a drug cartel want with museum artifacts?” Russell remarked as they were gearing up. “That’s still not adding up for me.”

“It is odd, but maybe the idea came from Charlie,” Colter said. “He had access. Maybe he saw it as a way to buy their trust.”

“Okay, then what went wrong? Why’d they take her?” Russell replied. “I don’t know, man. Something feels off here.”

Colter nodded in agreement. “We don’t have all the pieces yet.”

But they were about to get them. They moved closer to the warehouse, with Russell heading towards a side door and Colter going around the back. They saw a few men crowded around a TV in the corner of the warehouse. Behind them were crates upon crates of what surely was product. Probably tens of thousands worth of coke.

Jesus, Russell thought. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, but still. This was a serious operation.

Colter caught sight of a lone chair under a bright corner of the room. It was stained with sweat and blood, and some cut ropes hung from the seat. He alerted Russell to the scene with a subtle gesture of his raised gun. Russell’s face turned grim. He nodded minimally, then pointed with his eyes at the group of unsuspecting men. The brothers drew in closer.

Russell fired a shot directly into the TV screen, making it crash onto the ground. The men startled like rats, but they soon faced Russell and Colter’s guns. When one of them reached for the gun tucked in their pants, Colter aimed directly at him.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Colter warned.

“Where’s Charlie?” Russell demanded. “And his sister.”

He aimed his .45 caliber M1911 at their friend Pete, who had Cheeto stains on his shirt.

“How about you, Pete. You finally wanna share with the class, before I blow your fucking face off?!” Russell shouted.

The depths of his voice reverberated widely in the warehouse. It set the tone for things to come, if he didn’t get some cooperation.

Pete shifted on his feet, betraying his nerves. His forehead was starting to sweat too.

“They’re not here,” he admitted. “They left a while ago.”

Russell flexed his finger over the trigger of his gun.

“Tell me where,” he said.

Eddie wasn’t exactly an outdoorsy kind of guy. He kicked his boot against a tree while leaning against it.

“Fucking rock in my shoe,” he muttered angrily.

He was getting more and more frustrated with the uneven terrain (and the mosquitos) the longer the five of you trekked onwards: including you, Charlie, Eddie, and two of his men, Rick and Kevin. Both of them had guns trained on your back and Charlie’s.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said quietly to you.

You shook your head. Disappointment didn’t even begin to cover what you were feeling as you looked at him, but at least they’d given him a shirt to cover his beaten torso. His face wasn't so lucky.

He righted you when you struggled on the gravel and loose dirt in your ankle boots. Your hands were still tied together too.

“What the hell happened to you?” you asked, as you caught your breath.

“I needed the money,” he said, though he knew it wasn’t an excuse. “I was his bodyguard.”

“He’s a drug dealer,” you snapped. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“He was my dealer,” he admitted, though his gaze was heavy. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, but…a few weeks after I left rehab, I slipped. I never really did quit. Just got better at hiding it.”

You let out a sharp breath, and tried to blink past your tears. Another disappointment, another heartbreak for the books.

“But when he offered me a job to pay off what I owed, he wanted insurance that I’d stick around. To prove myself,” Charlie explained. “He came up with the idea to rob the museum.”

“Why was Dr. Feinman involved? Did he find out?” you asked.

Charlie nodded with a sigh. “He caught me the first time I tried to steal the artifacts. I…I lied. Told him we planned to sell them. So instead of turning me in, he wanted to be cut into the deal.”

“What? Why?” you said. Your former boss was many things—a stuffy, self-important man chief among them—but you’d never taken him for a thief.

Charlie gave you a wry look. “Owed his second wife up to his eyeballs. Alimony’s a real bitch.”

You shook your head. That explained why Charlie hadn’t yet been a suspect in the theft. Feinman had probably helped cover Charlie’s tracks. But whatever shortcomings Feinman had, he hadn’t deserved to die like that. A shudder went through your body, remembering his lifeless eyes. You breathed out slowly and tried to rid yourself of the nightmarish image. You managed to push past that to ask your next question.

“And who chose the Native American weapons?”

Charlie’s lips pursed. He glanced over his shoulder. “He did. Thought they looked cool.”

Eddie smirked and waved his gun at him, spurring you both onward. Charlie kept walking and turned his attention back to you.

“The way I figured it, the museum shouldn’t have them anyway.”

Your lips pursed at that. You sort of saw his point there, however convoluted his justification, but putting those artifacts in the hands of a drug dealer was even worse.

“And this is so much better for them,” you said pointedly.

“That’s why I couldn’t go through with it. Tried to get out of the whole damn mess,” he said. “I know what you would’ve said to me. And I knew if I ever saw you again, I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes.”

Your tears welled up again, when you saw the sincerity of his gaze.

“Okay, this touching little scene is making my balls itch,” Eddie said. He grabbed Charlie’s shoulder and turned him around. “Where the fuck are we going? If you’re trying to pull something smartass here, Charlie, I promise you, you’re gonna regret it.”

He cocked the safety back on his gun and pointed it at Charlie’s chest. Charlie raised slow, placating hands.

“It’s just a little further,” he promised.

“If you’re giving me the runaround—” Eddie started.

“Then what? Without me, you’ll never find it,” Charlie barked back.

Eddie’s face tightened, and he pointed the gun at you instead. You sucked in a breath.

Charlie quickly held up his bound hands again in surrender. After a beat of tension, he pointed up when he heard rushing water.

“Hear that?” he said. “I buried it on a cliff near a waterfall. We’re getting close.”

Another stretch of silence filled the clearing.

Eddie weighed Charlie’s words. When he was mollified enough, he lowered his gun away from you. At his command, Rick and Kevin kept you and your brother moving.

Charlie glanced to his right side. He realized that you all were walking near the edge of a steep hill that careened downward. Taking in a breath to center himself, he turned to you.

“I love you, you know that?” he whispered.

Your brows furrowed. You opened your mouth to reply, but you found the look in his eyes suspicious. Like he was saying goodbye.

That was when he swiftly turned. He snapped the heel of his hand into Kevin's throat and grabbed his gun while he was choking. Charlie shot him in the chest, then he clipped Rick in the shoulder.

Just as Eddie began to raise his own weapon, Charlie met your look of shock with his own determination.

He pushed you down the hill.

AN: I know, I know. Two cliffhangers in a row is cruel, but I promise we're getting to even more fun action and cathartic moments in Part 4! 😘

Next Time:

Russell called your name as he searched through the dense trees. Sunlight was beginning to filter through their leaves in dappled color on the trail. It gave him a better view ahead.

He stopped short when he saw a splatter of blood on the ground, painting the dirt and some dead leaves. A well of unease rose in his gut.

He headed toward the sound of running water, and he soon found another cliff. Just beyond it was a waterfall, and river below. Seeing no signs of life, he pulled back and continued to call your name, and all the while, pushing down his worry.

“Russell?!”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 4

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total-drama-brainrot · 9 months ago

Note

TD World Tour AU, where Noah doesn't tell Owen that Alejandro is an eel in London... In Area 51, Noah is accidentally splashed with an alien truth potion (which wears off after a few days) and he talks to Owen... Owen asks Noah what he truly thinks about Alejandro, and Truth-Potion Affected Noah says this: "I have mixed feelings for Alejandro. He's a brilliant, interesting guy and I like him, but I don't trust him. He's like a slippery eel dipped in grease, swimming in motor oil. Basically, Heather with social skills. Wait a minute, why am I telling you this?!"... What if Alejandro secretly heard Noah call him all those conflicting things + Alejandro also learns that Noah is affected with an alien truth potion? 👽

Alright, you got me. I'm an absolute sucker for truth potion plots, especially when the character(s) effected by them are usually either pathological liars or incredibly secretive- of which Noah absolutely falls into the second category, given he shares so little personal information.

I'll gloss over why Noah declined to shit-talk Alejandro in London (though there's so many ways this change in behaviour could be justified) since the focal point of this hypothetical centred around their time in Nevada, so let's start from the beginning of the Area 51 challenge.

Area 51:

Before we start, it'll have to be established that no one was eliminated in London. Let's say that the majority vote went towards Duncan (team CIRRRRH voted him out immediately because they found his re-admission to the competition unfair, I guess. I imagine he'd also vote himself, if not as a plan to escape the competition he'd been actively skiving from, then just as an act of spite) but Chris instead claimed it was a rewards challenge- much like he does in Greece- because he doesn't want to let Duncan slip away again so soon.

I see no reason to alter the first part of the challenge- the sneaking into Area 51 portion- since team CIRRRRH's course of entry is fairly straightforward. Noah's presence doesn't make much of a difference to how it would play out; the majority of them throw their rocks and run, Owen gets lasered over the fence and Owen-napped, ect ect.

When both teams have managed to make their way into the Black Box Warehouse, Noah immediately suggests they should prioritise rescuing Owen. Tyler's quick to agree, since he's a firm believer in the "no man left behind" mentality (and he probably makes a not-so-subtle jab towards Noah for his chance of tune compared to London, where both he and Owen did leave Tyler behind) leaving Duncan and Alejandro to split from the group- Duncan in search of Gwen, and Alejandro just takes the opportunity to finally be free from his 'incompetent teammates' and prioritises finding an artifact.

Noah and Tyler come across the contraption Owen's trapped in, Tyler punches it in a futile effort to break it open, and the face hugger cube drops into Noah's hands. This is where the point of divergence comes into play; Tyler has his E.T. moment with one of the face huggers, but Noah- who's a tad bit more observant than Alejandro, and used to dodging surprise attacks from his various older siblings (and Izzy)- anticipates his own face hugger attack and promptly starts a game of cat-and-mouse with a taser alien hot on his heels.

The commotion of which attracts the rest of his team. Alejandro and Duncan arrive on the scene to see Tyler being electrocuted by an alien and Noah running in circles evading another.

Duncan attempts to rip the face hugger from Tyler's face, finding success at the cost of sending Tyler trampling into Owen's captive contraption (essentially taking Alejandro's canonical place in this scene) and inadvertently freeing Owen.

Meanwhile, Alejandro swipes up the nearest box he can find and snags the alien chasing Noah, who's still very loudly panicking as he flees, and succeeds! The alien is swiftly captured into the box, netting team CIRRRRH their artifact, and Noah promptly goes careening into the nearest tower of junk in his face hugger-fuelled hysteria. This causes another box to topple from the peak of the tower, landing directly on Noah's head and spilling its contents onto the bookworm- glass vials filled with a mysterious, luminescent cobalt blue liquid shatter into pieces drenching Noah in whatever they contained. (i.e. truth potion.)

Owen has his false-amnesia moment, characterised by his Joker makeover, and Alejandro enacts his revenge post-hypnotic suggestion after being addressed as "Al" one too many times.

Noah, understandably, swiftly objects to Owen's treatment and demands that Alejandro snap him out of it. Alejandro concedes, and Owen's brought back to himself. At least, for a moment, before the fatigue of having his mind messed with sends Owen into near-catatonia (the same as canon), meaning he has to be ferried through the Warehouse and back to the Jet by Alejandro and Duncan.

Things carry on canonically from there; Noah's just sort of there for the most part, though there'd be a minor hint to his newfound proclivity for honesty. Something along the lines of him giving an uncharacteristically honest answer to Owen as to who he's voting- Tyler, of course, since he was the one who ultimately threw the challenge for them... and also because Tyler still holds some resentment towards Noah for what happened in London, and Noah feels guilty about it every time he looks at the jock. Wait, why did he say that?

Sometime between this and the elimination scene, Noah wipes the truth-goop off of himself, but not before the effects have already started.

Tyler's voted out, yada yada yada.

The Jet:

Thus begins the start of "Picnic at Hanging Dork". Team CIRRRRH, consisting of just Alejandro, Duncan, Owen and Noah, are slumming it up in the Economy Cabin. Alejandro tries to rally his team by asking how to break apart Courtney and Heather's tentative co-operation. Owen suggests having Alejandro seduce Heather, since it worked for both Bridgette and Leshawna. Duncan makes his "Babe Olympics" comment. Noah pipes up that playing with someone's feelings is pretty scummy, even for someone competing for a million dollars.

Alejandro takes Noah's reluctance towards his methodology poorly; he hadn't spoken up before, when Alejandro had utilized the same strategy against other girls- and even Owen noticed that, so surely Noah did too- so why was he to outwardly against him using the same tricks? Duncan agrees, and offers ''his'' idea of having Alejandro flirt with Courtney to throw both her and Heather off their games (since Heather has an obvious crush on Alejandro), and things follow canon.

Then, the scene between Alejandro and Courtney happens. Noah scoffs at the display from the side lines, prompting Owen to ask him why he's so against Alejandro's plan.

"I mean, you never said anything before, when he flirted with Bridgette and Leshawna." Owen comments, light-hearted in nature but with an underlying questioning tone.

Noah's eyes flicker with a cobalt glow, easily mistaken for a trick of the light, and he speaks without even thinking.

"Yeah, because I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Bridgette was happenstance, and Leshawna's whole deal could've been a coincidence, or some massive misunderstanding. But this?" Noah extends an accusing hand out towards a smug looking Alejandro, then pans it over to a flattered Courtney, "He's outright toying with Courtney's feelings after she was cheated on in front of an international audience. It's scummy."

Owen nods in understanding, momentary contemplation evident in the pouted curve of his lips, and he chimes in.

"Does that mean you don't like Al?"

"I never said that."

"Well, how do you feel about him, then?"

Again, a flash of blue light against the hickory backdrop of Noah's eyes, and he responds thoughtlessly.

"I guess I have mixed feelings about him. On the one hand, he's slippery, like an eel dipped in grease, swimming in motor oil. He's like if you took all of the worst aspects of Heather, wrapped them up in a pretty package, and gave them social skills..." He holds his hands out before him in a scale-like manner, with the left tipped downwards and tie right raised by his chin. Then, the two hands swap positions.

"And on the other hand, he's brilliant. I've never met anyone as talented as Alejandro; he's smart, he's athletic, he's funny. It's almost unfair just how perfect everything about him is- even his face is perfect. It's ridiculous! Infuriating, even. It's so hard to dislike him, even when I know he's bad news, but that doesn't mean I trust him."

Owen stands slack jawed beside his best friend, both impressed and stunned at the raw honesty of Noah's tirade. Noah, now a little more aware of himself, realises that he's said more than he intended to- more than he thinks he's ever spoken in one go throughout the entirety of Total Drama. He's not usually one for speeches, after all, let alone honest ones.

He's always been the type to play his cards close to his chest, so why...?

"I, uh, didn't mean to go off like that."

And he also didn't mean to admit it, either. What was going on?

The look Owen gives him is, in a word, vivid. The blonde has a shit-eating grin stretching across his face, a sort of elated smugness practically glowing from his features.

"Sounds like someone has a cruuuush!~"

What? No? No! Not at all, where would Owen even get that idea?!

Noah splutters to correct Owen's assumption (to disastrous results, because he does sort-of has a crush on Alejandro, so the truth potion doesn't allow him to outright deny it), and in his preoccupied state he misses how a calculating pair of sage green eyes never seems to stray from him.

Alejandro has a lot to think about in regards to a certain cynic, it seems.

#I'd like to apologise for taking this idea and running with it.#Cutting myself off here before I breach 2k+ words or else I'll be here all day.#Sort of entered actual Writing Mode at the end there instead of Outline Mode but this idea is. So Full Of Potential I couldn't help myself.#But from here it'd basically be Alejandro using his newfound knowledge of Noah's crush on him to his advantage.#Whilst Noah's doing his best (and failing) to deny that he has any feelings for Alejandro.#Eventually leading to the two of them having a Bonding Moment where Alejandro gets Noah to divulge some personal information.#And in turn- or an effort to garner some trust (to be abused later)- Alejandro also lets himself be vulnerable towards Noah.#Something something Alejandro tries to use Noah as a pawn but ends up catching feelings of his own.#Then of course the potion wears off and Noah goes back to being just as prickly and standoffish as he was before.#A point of conflict maybe? Imagine bearing your soul out to someone only for them to close themself off to you not even days afterwards.#...Also imagine being practically forced to divulge information about yourself to someone you don't trust because of a truth potion.#Oh yeah. That's some good angst material right there.#Especially is you have Alejandro be- if not fully aware- than at least suspect that Noah's not being agreeable on his own terms.#Anon why have you given me The Thoughts?? I can't keep brainstorming AUs when I already have fics to work on!!#ophe's ranting in the tags again #total drama #td noah #td alejandro #team chris is really really really really hot #alenoah #-ish #silly ideas #other's ideas #long post #replies #kinda drafty in here (posts from the drafts)

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hirazuki · 2 months ago

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Me, episode 1: Oh, a relatable protag! And a relatable female protag, at that. Sweet! That never happens.

Me, a few episodes in: Wait, the protag really is going to be my character? The one I identify with the most? Seriously? It's not going to be a strange, at least somewhat sinister, seemingly hostile male side character? It's gonna be a female character and the protagonist? That's insane, that literally never happens... what's the catch??

Me, more than halfway through the season: ... huh, I guess Maomao really is it. Okay, then ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Me to myself, after episodes 22/23:

#i let my guard down #i should have known #like really i should know better by now lmao #that's probably the best depiction of prosopagnosia i've seen in fiction ngl #also luo//men's suggestion re: using other attributes to tell people apart??#A++ approach what a guy #mine isn't nearly as severe but i totally use footsteps/gait/mannerisms as my primary means of distinguishing people #the very few people i care about i can definitely recognize by facial features #and people i see frequently; though i do have trouble recognizing them if they appear in a context i'm not used to #like. if i were to see one of my sword classmates at my workplace for instance i would have trouble recognizing them #but anyone else? forget it #the most difficult part of working veterinary front desk was returning animals to their owners #bc even though i could have /just/ spoken with the owners like. ten minutes ago #i couldn't tell you which animal belonged to which owner #faces just don't register with me #dogs were easier in that i'd just let them lead me to their owners #but if it was a cat in a carrier i was fucked lmaooo #it's why if there was another receptionist working i'd let them handle any hand offs XDD #i don't remember most of my childhood but i have some very vivid impressions of moments like #my mother asking me to go give a cash tip to the hairdresser who did her hair and me being unable to pick who it was out #of everyone that was working even though i'd been there with them for two plus hours.#or like. taking the school bus home and being unable to recognize my bus monitor and so getting on the wrong bus #and also getting ridiculed about this by my parents lol. ah good times.#on the other hand i can easily recognize a dog i've met once or twice even years later. and remember their name.#i think it all mostly comes down to disinterest for me. i've tried to change this but it's just how i am #so. he's very relatable. painfully so #also the pragmatism and rationality and hyperfixating on things.#i've never hyperfixated on another person tho and i am so grateful for that every single day #i know in my bones it would be an absolute disaster XD #withoutwords

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flavia8 · 7 months ago

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I've come to the conclusion that I can read and enjoy the most fucked up literature as long as it doesn't feel mean. It's hard to explain but as long as the book/manga/comic/whatever doesn't feel mean spirited I'm totally down.

#being mean includes like exploitative #racist #ect #I don't mean that the work can't have those things I mean the work doesn't revel in those things #IE House. i love that show it's incredibly fucked up but it's not mean ya know #it as a show doesn't revel in being unkind #or try to justify what happens as what should happen bc the characters are the way they are ya know #an example I come across a lot in media of “being mean”#is when a character is created solely just to be maligned by others and we should just accept them treating that character this way #bc they (usually a she) deserves it #if the entire book/manga/comic/show/movie feels like that then that's when I have problems #it's hard to explain but I hope you know what I mean #conversely #I absolutely despised +A no tachiichi #it felt so much like “Yeah. Fuck this girl in particular for no reason but our entertainment”#It's literally the most mid tryheard to be bittersweet Isekai in theory but holy hell #can't be bittersweet if there's nothing sweet ever #the mc is constantly shit on #some of the characters are like we only are mean to you to make you try to defend yourself:)#which is total bullshit #and then when she actually tries to defend herself they keep shitting on her #and accepts it like “Yeah they helped me:) they were right”#And I must stress that as far a subject matter is concerned It's literally nothing #like it's tame as hell but god #made me miserable reading it

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vepaluiron · 1 day ago

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UPDATE. Where is the Eastern Kingdoms? Suspiciously Eastern Kingdoms shaped Quel'thalas:

(We can't take Kul Tiras until they leave the Alliance but we're working on it. My next goal is Kalimdor, B's next goal is Northrend.)

A Sylvanas update as well.

I wanted to get into our culture's naming and why it changes with every update I do. We really like hybridizing with cultures to get their unique innovations, and our name has a piece from each culture! It's currently Fire (Draconic and Demonic) Peak (Orcish, from Blackrock) Forest (Amani) Blade (Dwarven), and in Thalassian (High Elven)

The bit from Blackrock lead into something funny for a bit.

Close enough, welcome back Warchief Sylvanas?

I have no idea why a demon would ask me to pray to Elune but it gave a good boost so. Thanks, Elune?

I never thought Sylvanas would enjoy whipping a person so much but we all learned something today.

The Bronze Dragonflight murdered Alleria's daughter, our beloved Sylvanas II. They won't be doing much of anything anymore :)

In an interesting development, all newborn children of our culture are now demons!

This made me cackle so hard, it's so dramatic.

Uh. Yeah.

At least Sylvanas' love life is spicy lmao

The two sisters!

Such dramatics, Sylvanas. We each walk a line, indeed.

More of Sylvanas' love life.

I found this man with incredible genetic traits, but I wasn't sure if I wanted them so badly that I would have Sylvanas sleep with a man. B said Alleria had a free spouse slot, but he was married. so logically I started a scheme to murder her... And HE joined the scheme???

Sylvanas you can't SAY that!!!

Look at her!

Of course Sylvanas goes and gets a soulmate that's freaky as hell?

Repeat what I said about the freakyness.

This is so out of a romance book.

HA!

Other incidents:

A Graymane tried to claim my throne. I could feel Genn laughing from another timeline.

Our mother rules a Republic for some reason??

There's a new Windrunner sibling! His name is Idoriel, and Sylvanas trained him to be a warrior.

B: Oh, Teldrassil is upgradable? How do you even upgrade Teldrassil? Me: I don't know how you'd upgrade it, but I do know how to downgrade it >:)

Windrunners keep either marrying eachother (even though our religion bans incest) or out into other families and it's incredibly frustrating.

Some Windrunners converted to Sargerism. I don't know why, our religion is so much cooler.

One of my rivals was married to her great-great-great-great-grandson. Crazy shit.

For some reason, the models for Orc + Demon is incredibly broken. It's kinda horrifying to witness.

One Windrunner has demon horns!

Alleria WILL NOT stop having children. She has had 16 total now. 7 are alive.

B has lost count of how many of their descendants are named after the original sisters so they pick a random number now. We have Vereesa XIII and Sylvanas IX.

Alleria's latest child is named after our secret favorite WoW character, Sister Subversia.

The "Corrupt County" mechanic is really good. Maybe too good.

We got 3 apocalyptic plagues at once one time.

B: A shadow over Stratholme?? Me: Is this how it starts...

Alleria got obsessed with a White Stag she failed to hunt.

Since I have 600k+ soldiers now, every time I raise my entire army my game starts lagging horribly. I tend to only use my Men-at-Arms, which stand at a measly (/s) 50k.

Proudmoore, Menethil, and Whisperwind are all gone. If Graymane keeps pushing my patience they will join them as well.

So my friend (B) and I realized that the Warcraft mod for Crusader Kings 3 (Guardians of Azeroth 2, its very cool) updated recently with a few new mechanics. We had a longer running game where I played as Sylvanas and B played as Vereesa, but that game had gotten so slow it refused to run. So, we decided, why not restart? We picked the earliest start point, I picked Sylvanas and B picked Alleria.

Interesting moments from our game so far:

alleria becoming a witch and then instantly turning sylvanas into a witch

me: SOMEBODY IS PLOTTING AGAINST MY SIS--- wait. is it you?

B: yeah its me LOL

sylvanas has ptsd, feels canon

zul'jin and sylvanas ended up becoming rivals. sylvanas lost this duel so hard she had a mental breakdown, which led to her becoming a gym rat

B: Is our grandpa spending our legacy points? me: No... Wait. *I* am the family heir. B: Wait, really? Oh.... me: Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

sylvanas being an incredible aunt, as expected

the scream i scrumpt, i was just trying to get her to not hate me after grandpapa's untimely demise

i saw this and was like. bro we have to take this man down, this is the last straw

cant avoid tragedy. at least lireesa's still alive?

and to round out the night, all hail the new regent-lady of quel'thalas!

other fun moments:

me deflecting the windrunner curse like my life depends on it. i dont know where all these men are coming from but BACK YOU VILE BEASTS

lirath's wife tried to kill him. in retrospect, her name was shar so i should've known this would've happened.

our uncle threw shit on me (because i killed grandpapa) so sylvanas now has the nickname "the Stinky". i will figure out how to change this, but unfortunately uncle paus windrunner will never see this >:)

i have a permanent religion debuff because B made a new religion that made polygamy holy, and sylvanas has a permanent "refusing to marry" trait

conversely, alleria has 3 husbands who wont stop accusing her of cheating despite polygamy being legal and encouraged

sylvanas finally ended up hooking up with a random elven woman in the woods during a hunt. good for her.

arthas somehow ended up being alleria's prisoner. he was in prison for 16 years before either of us realized it happened.

most of the original warcraft cast is dead. it has only been like 50 years. neither of us have any idea how this happened.

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dimiclaudeblaigan · 2 years ago

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ngl it's getting rly annoying seeing people say "remake of x game!" constantly. people are so obsessed with the idea of remakes lately. they don't wonder what the next new game will be like. they just want remakes (including in franchises that don't do those often. not every franchise is Tales, where they've been doing remakes actively throughout its lifespan and not just during this Uwu Remake Era).

with FE, remakes make me a bit eh bc they've all sold poorly or just barely made a profit. Marth's games' remakes on top of the failed Tellius sales almost sent FE into its grave. SoV is just... there. it happened and the fandom moved on, save for the Alm and Celica alts in Heroes.

but like, it was so annoying watching VA interviews and just seeing the word "remake" thrown around so much from the chat. people want "remakes" of games that just don't need them. updated ports is one thing, but entire remakes?

there's more to FE than remakes, but it's all people seem to talk about. I'd like Tellius ports as much as the next girl for people's accessibility (and specifically bc IS' lack of marketing destroyed those games' sales and now they're so rare they're super expensive), but a remake? it's not necessary. even with quality of life features added, those games only need ports. I play them very regularly and frankly have way more fun with them than I do with modern day Menu Emblem.

also, I don't want the fandom wank carrying over into remakes of games that never even had wank. the biggest wank Tellius ever had was the Ike vs Micaiah wars in the fandom, which were not only a fraction of what happens now post Fodlan games but also weren't anywhere near as aggressive.

idk I'm just tired of remake this, remake that. it's also because of the rampant remakes in the industry that I'm tired of it, but it's also tiring to see it constantly in this fandom. I'm glad that FE7 is coming back, but as a port on the Switch and still as a GBA game. FE4? super glad it came back as a port (JP eShop only). remakes though? too tired of the concept (especially when FE remakes have not only almost killed the franchise from lack of sales but were otherwise just mediocre and moved on from pretty quickly). I also don't trust the FE fandom with remakes at this point. character hate is so rampant in this fandom that for the life of me I don't even want Tellius ports if it's going to save me the headache and aggravation from people's lack of character comprehension. :') that shit will turn me into a hard stan and my blog will have to be painted in my blorbo just to keep haters away. :'''')

#DCB Comments #do not reblog (i don't want jerks whining at me for having thoughts/opinions on this and just need to rant a bit)#like no seriously you can't even talk abt Jugdral anymore without people whining abt remakes #instead of ppl discussing the games as they are (not just those two but any of them)#they always bring up remakes instead of enjoying what already exists. it makes it sound like #ppl don't actually /really/ enjoy what we have and won't until it's remade #remakes aren't even necessarily bad in and of themselves. Tales does really good with them usually #they've had a few bad apples or generally unpopular ones (Innocence R is the worst thing they ever did in that franchise tbch)#but they usually do a good job with remakes and the fandom wants some remakes but #I don't see the word used even half as much in that fandom as with FE #also remakes kinda worry me in FE bc like... they only come out on handhelds #(specifically to date they've only ever come out on handhelds so there's no history of console remakes to speak of)#and if they don't just totally bomb they don't do much for the franchise as a whole #while yes I think Jugdral remakes would end up with the games being more known and might sell well #the fandom wank is going to be insufferable and I've been through enough Jugdral wank /without/ remakes #I like when ports come out and the games are released again on moderns consoles but... remakes? eh #as far as FE goes remakes just don't work for me. I've heard FF has good remakes?#idk I don't play FF but it seems to get a good reception for remakes. Tales usually does #Hearts R is a mixed bag bc it was absolutely great but the loc was absolute dumpster garbage #they tried to be ~quirky~ and weird but only had JP audio so you'd get like #tiny sentences in English subs with a whole long sentence spoken in JP and you can tell how lazy they were with the loc #Hearts R is a remake and needs a remake just to fix what they screwed up so badly #Innocence R was just entirely a mistake that was a stain on Innocence itself and I refuse to acknowledge it (as do most fans)#other than that they've done tons of remakes and they do genuinely usually improve the games. FE though? yikes #also tho Tales' fandom is more sane than FE's and I don't even trust them with the GBA games let alone Jugdral/Tellius games #and like wanting remakes generally speaking isn't bad... but it's like ALL ppl talk abt anymore regarding ''the next game''

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multishipper-baby · 2 years ago

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I don't think Eze has any special powers aside from being able to see and speak to shadows, but I do think he occasionally pretends he does when dealing with shadows that are particularly annoying or rowdy.

#fnafhs #myocs #he's usually fairly good at ignoring other people's shadows but sometimes one will notice that he can see them #and shadows... they don't get to interact with people a lot. so they tend to strike up conversation or hang around him for a while #he usually responds politely because he understands they just want companionship and stuff #some shadows though- they use the chance to talk to someone to be super obnoxious or mean and just all around unpleasant #so when he tries to be nice and tell them to leave him alone but they ignore him... he tends to threaten them so they'll leave #usually with a spirl about how he can travel to the shadow world and destroy them jadda jadda #can he technically do that? I mean kinda #he can travel to the shadow world (with preparation) and he can also fight shadows #destroy them?? ehhh not really. he's never done so at least. it be akin to murdering a person so he has no interest on doing it #and even if he wanted to he's not super powerful or anything. he's pretty mid when it comes to battle prowess #his attitude and body language totally sells the threat tho so that usually works in sending shadows away #if the shadow doesn't buy his threat though? then he's screwed lmao #nothing to do but get away from whoever the person with the shadow is

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featherymainffins · 18 days ago

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People be wilding, I hate when I ask for some dirty tricks to swindle my brain because therapeutic methods are slow and I would kinda like to do things even before they work, and people just recommend me what is essentially CBT coupled with exposure therapy.

#girl if that worked right here right now i wouldn't be asking you for dirty tricks would i?#like #me: Hello fellow STPD people if i don't follow these very specific steps to ensure that my writing is perfect and 100% accurate #and if i don't redraw every line i draw until it's Right™ and Perfect™ and don't make a bunch of angle guides before that I cannot #write and i cannot draw because if it isn't perfect God will not let me into heaven and also he'll tell everyone that i am a fraud #and a piece of subhuman trash and everyone will mock me forever and see me as weak and wrong and bad and it will be so over #this is not ideal. because sometimes I do not have the time to do the necessary steps but it's either doing them or not doing the activity #at all. I don't like having to do all that shit and frankly it's annoying and irritating and nonsensical but it calms me down and i HAVE #to do it. since this is not ideal i tricked everything by just buying a sketchbook and going 'God cannot see inside this one'#so now i have one specific sketchbook that i can use however and make as many imperfect lines as i want because God can't see it #and if i make a mistake he won't know. and won't tell anyone. this is a bit better but it sucks because everything has to #be contained in that sketchbook and i prefer working digitally. what do?#fellow people with STPD for some fucking reason: You should try drawing without doing any of that : )#like ah yes thanks. yeah totally. i haven't thought of that at all thank you for your wisdom #like listen to me right here right now i am having trouble going outside because i performed the stept i take before writing to #about 60-70 %. Enough to actually guarantee a good result if i were normal but you see i am not and I didn't perform #the steps too 100 % and ever since then I can't shake the feeling that it's all wrong because i fumbled and it's my fault #and now everyone hates me and wants to hurt me and knows that I'm a fraud and I'll never be anything else all because I didn't do it right #all because I didn't do the steps to their full completion. it tormented me until i deleted the whole goddamn thing #and even now it torments me but slightly less. like oooooh I'm sure everyone i know knows and is judging me #and tries to interact with me because they want me to let my guard down so they can hurt me. because I'm insufficient and wrong #but perhaps God has not told strangers so actually i can go outside. because uuuuh I deleted it in time. this makes sense.

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chuluoyi · 6 months ago

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✎ mission: baby steps !

- gojo satoru x reader

the three times gojo tried to make his baby love him (and how he miserably fails)

genre: full crack, dad!gojo being a sore loser, your baby being mean (he only wants peace, really), and obviously, fluff !!

note: a little thing for father's day ehe <3 i know i said i'll work on smut in the polls next but uhhh, this comes first ok?! :') i just love the idea of gojo vs baby don't mind me *sobs* and all the scenario here come from the tiktok/reels you've sent me!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

There are many things that come with being a jujutsu sorcerer, and when you are Gojo Satoru, those things seem to be multiplying like bunnies.

This essentially means less time with his wife and baby. Look, he could finish missions fast, but when sent to other cities, even he couldn't abuse his teleportation powers all the time to return to Tokyo.

And so, as much as he hated it, he couldn't fault his baby boy for forgetting him.

"Look, it's papa," you rocked your son with a smile, consoling him as he wailed right after Satoru held him. "Don't cry, don't cry! Papa just got back from a long mission, he's not scary!"

"Is he scared of me?" Ouch. The thought prickled him. It somehow felt sourer than seeing Principal Gakuganji's face.

You hummed, seemingly (or comically?) deep in thought. "Hmm, in baby's point of view: a big, bad man suddenly picks him up, of course he's scared."

"I'm not a bad man!"

Okay, he wasn't having this. Satoru adored his baby to bits and he would want him to at least know it. It's settled then—he would be taking paid leave just to spend some time with his baby.

This would be his mission for the next three days!

DAY ONE

The day started off great. Baby Gojo was relatively calm, a bit fussy here and there but Satoru could definitely handle him.

"Look, a plane is coming!" he said playfully, moving the spoon in the air to attract his baby's attention. "Open your mouth wide!"

Baby blinked at him with the straightest face ever. His two blue orbs were the very same as his father, and yet they held disinterest so great that it was a wonder Satoru didn't notice.

He then playfully smooched baby's face, but he scrunched up, cringing in response.

And later, another achievement unlocked: Satoru successfully got his son to sleep for his afternoon nap!

"You're so cute, sigh." Satoru poked his baby's cheek lightly. "You look like me, but when you sleep, you totally look like your mama..."

He might not say it out loud, but one of his favorite sights lately was seeing you sleep next to your son. Both of you looked so precious and vulnerable, so alike, and it made him warm.

And whenever he looked at this little creation between you and him, he also got the urge to poke him so bad.

So he did. Only this time, he poked him a little too hard.

And how wrong that move was.

His son immediately cracked his eyes open, his lips quivered, and then his whole face scrunched up, followed by—

"WAAA!"

"Oof! Wait— I'm sorry!"

Long story short, he refused to be held in Satoru's arms, so you took over and your husband could only watch you with dissatisfaction.

"Won't you let me hold you?" he asked despondently, pulling up a pitiful face and batting his eyelashes. "I have the warmest hugs! Mama can vouch for that!"

"Satoru, he doesn't want you."

DAY ONE RESULT : FAILED

DAY TWO

Okay, his baby would love him today. Satoru was sure of it.

He had ordered this baby ride-on toy via home shopping and not only that, he would play with him!

"Here we goo~! Honk! Honk!" Satoru steered the little vehicle with his son at the backseat, hyping him up and even made a weird sound that was supposed to resemble a... train?

You watched them both, giggling. Your husband looked positively ridiculous as he was too big for the small vehicle, but still persisted in entertaining your clueless baby behind him. "Oh my, Satoru, you're trying way too hard."

"I have to!" he retorted, sending pout and a glare at the same time. "You can't hog him all the time, he's my son too!"

"Well, good luck~ as it happens, your spawn isn't easy to impress."

"Just so you wait—!" Satoru begrudgingly shot you a look, eaten up by your taunts, not noticing the wall in front of him. "By the end of today, he'll— whoaaa!"

He was about to crash into the said wall, and you were prepared to jump to save your baby first. But then, Satoru did the next best thing to stop it—jumping out of the ride-on, rolling onto the floor... and crashing into the bookshelf that some of the things fell. "Ow!"

"Are you okay!?" you immediately picked up your baby before checking him over. However, Satoru's eyes were transfixed on your shared munchkin.

"Meh heh~"

And you too when you heard it— your baby was wiggling, all smiles, seemingly amused by the sight of his papa lying there pitifully. Satoru was aghast.

"Y-you have no filial piety!"

DAY TWO RESULT : FAILED

DAY THREE

Today, Satoru had gotten inside the playpen and brought a bunch of toys, planning to entertain his son with all of them.

"C'mon, don't throw that!" he pursed his lips when his kid flung the lego away. "Don't you want to play together with me?"

No. As if saying that, the baby crawled away from him. He seemed to have a target in mind though.

"Oi, what are you doing?" Satoru was puzzled, but he was in for a surprise when the child rose slowly.

"Oh, you're pushing yourself up..." he stated, observing how the baby, still wobbly, clutched on the edge of his playpen for support.

A huge grin spread across his face then. "Aww, look at you!" he gushed with pride. "You can stand already! Ooh!"

And suddenly, the sight tugged at his heartstrings. This was the first time he had ever witnessed such a milestone. He wasn't here when he first started teething or crawling, and now that he was here when his son was standing... he wanted to see more of this.

"Now, can you take a step?" Satoru moved closer to him, and the kid turned to him with those clear blue eyes and a little frown, seemingly unsure. "Go! Go! Come to me!"

He didn't think he would actually try to walk. But he did as baby let go of the support, alas suddenly he slipped—

And fell flat on his face.

"—! Are you hurt?!" Satoru immediately plucked him off the floor, horrified, and pulled him close when the baby started to sniffle. Soon, he began to wail inconsolably.

"Oh no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—!" he didn't even know why he was apologizing, but seeing his baby so frightened made his chest tighten. "Stop crying, oh wait—let's find mama!"

You were engrossed in your evening TV series when Satoru came barging to the living room with your poor son while being hysterical. "Help him!"

"What happened?!"

"He fell! He fell!"

Of course, your main concern was to comfort your baby, and so you reached out to take him from your husband's arms, only that...

"Huh...?" even Satoru was stunned when his son clutched onto his shirt, continuing to cry but refusing to let go, burying his little face into him.

Suddenly, he felt warm, he felt needed, and most of all, his desire to protect him was so overwhelming that he couldn't help but squeeze him closer.

You looked between the father and son, feeling giddy at the sight.

"He wants you," you finally smiled, patting baby's back. Satoru glanced between you and his precious pumpkin, seemingly taken aback as he blinked several times. When the fact sank in, he felt like a mush and pressed a kiss on his head.

The clown was convinced that his kid hates him and you are the savior. So, the fact that this little innocent being wanted him to comfort him... it made his heart flutter.

"Sorry, kid," he sighed into him, smushing his face to his little one's. "Don't cry, yeah? You're making me sad too."

"Satoru... are you getting glassy-eyed?"

"...am not!"

DAY THREE RESULT : DUBIOUS OUTCOME

"He's asleep..." you placed your baby between you and Satoru on the bed later that night, he was now so peaceful, out like a light.

Satoru turned to face you and the baby, looking at both of you with a yawn, but a soft smile lit his face when he saw how you pecked his son's cheek lightly.

These three days made him almost forget that curses still existed out there. Spending time with his son blurred that fine line between reality and a perfect daydream.

"He is still so little, but he screams so loud," he mused, poking the baby's cheek gently. You swatted his hand away, worried he might poke too hard again.

"You keep teasing him, that's why."

"—? He keeps playing me, is why!"

You two burst into quiet giggles then, and you couldn't help but reminiscing about the journey from when you first found out you were expecting, through the first ultrasound, and all the way to delivering your son.

And it seemed like Satoru had an inkling of what you were thinking when he suddenly blurted:

"Thank you, for everything you do," he whispered then, his eyes crinkled so softly at you.

You playfully huffed to hide your misty eyes, and in that moment, Satoru knew, that you too were glad for this life you two shared.

. . .

And that, in and of itself, was enough for him to thank all the stars for bringing him to meet you in that most beautiful spring of 2006.

Epilogue

It was morning, and baby was awoken by... sounds.

He looked to the side to find his mama there— your hand on his tummy to prevent him from rolling.

And then he turned to the other side to find his papa... who is perfectly still, but emanating this low sounds with each breath he took.

The longer he heard it, the more irritated your munchkin felt. So he rose, put his fists together, and came down on him—

Whack!

"—?!" Satoru groaned when something hit his face, and he opened his eyes only to see his son readying his punch again—

"W-why are you hitting me!" he was mortified. "H-help! Sweets, wake up! He’ll murder me!”

OVERALL MISSION RESULT : FAILED

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usuallydyinginside · 7 months ago

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TLDR: Francesca Bridgerton is Autistic. Fight me.

Okay so I did not go into Season 3 of Bridgerton expecting to have any feelings about Francesca Bridgerton. We have seen her only in glimpses in the show and I have not read the books, so I knew basically nothing about her before binging the first four episodes.

But guys. GUYS. I will die for this autistic queen.

Okay, so starting with first impressions. We know that on her big day, Francesca went out of her way to avoid her nosy, loud family by having a very early, quiet breakfast by herself and then calming down via playing the piano (clearly a special interest of hers).

In her first balls, we see Francesca light up any time she talks about music (clearly her current or forever special interest) but as soon as men try to take it to a flirting place she IMMEDIATELY shuts down. It's clear that even as she states very matter-of-factly that she plans to marry this season, she also is baffled and uncomfortable any time someone tries to actually, ya know, court her.

At one of her first shindigs, she got attention and then went up to her brother and (while making almost no eye contact) told him (rather than asked him) that she needed a sec.

She then sat by herself in the side of the ballroom.

Later on, she left a ball in search of quiet and solitude to fix her sensory overload, so she went outside this time. (A thing that we know from pervious seasons is a HUGE no-no, particularly unchaperoned. But she was very respectfully near the door so maybe that's fine?) The point is that she cares very much about staying respectable so she can get this marriage thing over with and get people to stop perceiving her, yet she risks some scandal by going outside just so she can be somewhere quiet alone.

Enter: this absolute (also autistic) Prince Charming.

He says hello (so she knows he's not like trying to sneak up on her in the dark like a creep) and then just stands there. 10/10, no notes, best way to flirt I have ever seen in my life.

Seriously just look at this. I'm in love. Never before has there been a greater sign of love at first sight than in this "standing politely five feet apart in total silence in the middle of a ball and enjoying each other's company."

I need to go watch these first four episodes about a hundred more times, but I THINK this might be the first sincere smile we see from Francesca??!? I at least got the impression immediately that this is the first time she's felt genuinely comfortable and happy while not entirely alone this season.

Like, these nerds did not even exchange names. They barely exchanged a word. Yet you can see them falling head over heels in love right there in that moment. I don't even LIKE love at first sight tropes and they have my whole heart. They are the only exception.

Then, of course, you have this second absolutely iconic Scene of Silence where the entire Bridgerton family stares in neurotypical confusion a these two amazing weirdos. The way these two do not know each other but they DO know each other. The way they are both so happy and so comfortable but also still playing the whole society game the way they were told they had to?? I just don't have words right now.

LOOK AT HER SMILE, GUYSSSSSSSS.

Look how happy this tiny, silent moment is making her. How she understands immediately what he's doing and is absolutely delighted to participate too even knowing her entire family is hardcore judging them from not that far away.

And then you get this smug little look from him and it's like you can see his autistic ass thinking, "Yes. I calculated correctly. This was the correct romance option. Gold star to me." (Okay, maybe that's just how my brain works but shhhhh)

Which, of course, brings us to this absolutely hilariously awkward ND attempt at flirting. We start off with some fairly normal "whoops, I'm flustered cause you make me nervous" sort of moments, but notice how little eye contact she makes. How she only looks in his eyes very briefly and it seems like she almost has to remind herself to do so when she's doing the "polite" answers (OR later when she's genuinely interested in a topic).

So as soon as Francesca is like "oh shit, I ruined it. I forgot how to neurotypical. It's over" then she loses patience with the practiced social niceties.

I spent like 30 minutes trying to find a GIF and I should already be asleep so I'm not going to go learn how to make one BUT I needed to look up exactly what happens next cause it's basically the most autistic thing I've ever seen.

WHICH IS that in response to the second awkward silence after Francesca shares all of this, John's response is, "That is helpful. If you'll excuse me."

Then dude bro just WALKS AWAY WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD.

Like it would be awkward anyway but now Francesca thinks she misread a social cue so she's feeling sad, and meanwhile this absolute king is over here on a romantic mission no one asked him to do because he is that set on showing her he's listening and cares.

The man shows up at the ball and as soon as he had a paper we were all screaming "he wrote her a song!!!"

Again, notice the eye contact (or lack thereof). I think with period dramas and women, it's easy to just go "oh she's just shy" or "she's just being demure like she's supposed to" but like NO. This girl does not want to meet anyone's eyes.

Until she does. Because in moments where she's talking about music or enjoying quiet, it's worth it to purposefully meet his eyes and see how he's feeling too. To make sure he can see she's happy.

ANYWAY, it was so much better than him writing a song for her.

SO. MUCH. BETTER.

Because he didn't just give her any ol' music. He sought out the music they'd specifically heard in the street, and he took her exact specifications on what was "wrong" with the music, and he FIXED IT. He then put the whole thing on sheet music and handed her a copy with no further explanation than this.

Our autistic lass was so excited she basically sprinted out of that ball so she could find a piano. (Which, the fact that she does this rather than try to stay and flirt/dance with the man who just gave her this incredible gift ALSO says a lot, just saying. Daphne could never.)

So our girl finds a piano and GUYS. LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE IS.

I'm pretty sure this woman would accept a proposal right this second. Maybe make one herself. She is so head over heels in love with this man that it's absurd. We have watched her mask in these first four episodes, but the last two where she's interacting with John are the first times she seems genuinely happy and like the real her is shining through.

Like, does she enjoy her family? Sure. But it's obvious (and she even tells us) that she finds them overwhelming and generally to be A Lot. But these scenes? This gesture?

You can just get how seen she feels. How weird and wild and amazing it is to her that this man can see who she actually is and wants to join her there instead of making her play some part of the perfect Bridgerton who likes to be the center of attention.

(And even here - the EYE CONTACT. She glances at people when she's talking to them, but the way she looks at the sheet music is so much more intense and intimate and personal than anytime she's looking at the average person in the show. She still even in places she's most comfortable, such as sitting at the piano, makes very little eye contact and only at very specific moments.)

Anyway I'm going to sleep now but I'm sure I'll add more thoughts as they come to me. Feel free to add your own case for why Francesca is autistic and/or otherwise neurodivergent. I want to hear allllllll the thoughts.

#francesca bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton s3 #john stirling #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton season three #Francesca is Autistic #Autism #Autistic

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libbyfandom · 1 year ago

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Drunk Modern!Mizu with a Breeding Kink

(((Yup. I don't know what to title this short fic other than that. I let the demons win.)))

(((This turned out to have a bit of spice, a bit of fluff, a bit of my sense of humor. I will say it doesn't get smutty smutty but Mizu sure has a mouth on her. And she's determined.)))

You’re shooing Taigen and Akemi out of your apartment with a tipsy giggle at 2 am. Akemi turns and squeezes you in a warm hug. “Good night, doll! See you later!”

Taigen flashes you a peace sign before Akemi leads him, swaying and all, toward their Uber to take them away.

You watch them climb inside the car before closing the door and locking up for the night. You head into the kitchen, picking up the last of the beer bottles and tossing them in the trash.

You head into the living room where you last left Mizu, only to find her sprawled out on the floor with an arm thrown across her eyes. There’s a pink flush across the middle of her face.

“Too much whiskey, sweetheart?” you chuckle as you approach her.

“Fucking Taigen,” she mumbled, trying to angrily growl but it just sounds slurred and tired. “Fucking…drinking contest.”

You crawl over her, sitting on her hips. You do have to move carefully though, you’re just a wee bit unsteady from the amount of alcohol in your own system. “You could’ve just said no,” you hum.

Mizu remains silent. She’s probably telling herself she won’t grace your soft snark with an answer, but it’s actually cause she really doesn’t have a comeback for that.

Her arm lifts slightly higher, and she squints down at you. Her eyes drift to where you’re sitting atop her hips. Her legs shift under you.

She’s… really staring intensely at how you’re sitting on her.

You start to lift yourself up on your knees. “You good? Does it hurt?”

Mizu frowns as your weight leaves her. “No,” she says, and grabs your hips to pull you back down. “...It’s nothing.”

But you know that look. She gets it every time Taigen got under her skin about something.

“Nothing? Like a “just thinking” nothing or a “Taigen pissed in your metaphorical thinking cereal” nothing?”

Mizu’s nose scrunches up in disgust. “What?”

You press your hands to Mizu’s chest, bouncing a little for emphasis. “What. Did. He. Saaaaay?”

Your tone and actions were meant to be lighthearted, but something flashes in Mizu’s eyes when you bounce yourself on her hips. Her eyes flash back down to where you’re sitting. Her hands instinctively grab your hips to still your movement. The pink flush across her cheeks and nose seem to darken. “Fuck,” slips out from between her lips. She shakes her head. “S’ just being stupid and gross.”

You noted that little change in her voice. “Like what?”

Her thumbs run over the jut of your hips. “Some girl he hooked up with. Talking about how she had an IUD and let him cum inside.”

You sigh, “Jesus Christ, of course.”

“He’s gross.”

She keeps shifting her hips under you. “Are you sure you don’t need me to get up-?” You start lifting yourself again.

“Stop moving,” she says, and the flush on her cheeks doesn’t die down. She tries to look annoyed, but you can tell the minuscule differences in her expressions. That’s a pout more than a scowl.

You laugh breathlessly. “What’s got you so worked up?” You tap her totally not pouting lip.

She grunts, grumbling a little as her hands massage where they’re gripping your hips.

“Don’t be all huffy with me. Tell me,” you coax with a grin, your own tipsy flush complimenting your wide smile.

She rolls her head back against the carpet and is silent for a minute.

The amount of whiskey currently killing her liver is the only reason her inhibitions are loose enough to say it.

She mumbles something.

“Mizu-“

“I wanna do that.”

Your eyebrows raise into your hairline, lips parting with surprise. You need to clarify just in case you're misunderstanding. “You want to-?”

“I want to cum inside you.”

The raspiness of her voice is even grittier from the whiskey.

Holy shit.

Her irises are darker than normal, the bright blue having more the tint of stormy waters.

And whether it’s the liquid courage or Mizu’s determination to barrel through things to push through her fears, she keeps going.

Her hands are heavy as the slide up your sides. “I want to have something that I can slip inside you-“

Your heart is pounding harder in your chest from her words, her actions, the heat of her frustrated gaze. “You have several strap ons-“ you joke, but your voice is weak and airy.

“I want to feel you from the inside.” She makes a frustrated grunt, “I don’t want plastic. I want to feel you wrapped around something other than my fingers. I want to stretch you out-“

Her palms dig into your stomach. Her blue eyes flick up and meet yours, and you almost fall back away from her with how much unfiltered desire is in them. Her own breath is shallow, you can see how silently but rapidly her chest is rising and falling.

“I want there to be risk that I forget to pull out.”

Holy shIT-

“Mizu-MIZU-!”

Her hips bucked, throwing you higher up her waist with her strength. Your hands fly out to catch yourself, and your fingers hit her shoulders as she’s suddenly sitting up, face inches from yours. She’s supporting your weight in this position, hands and feet flat on the floor as you’re the unsteady one in so many ways. She looks irritated, like when she can’t bend something to her will no matter how much work she pours into it. But she also looks slightly mournful. Genuinely upset.

And very, VERY drunk.

She looks up at you with furrowed eyebrows. “I wanna see it dripping out.”

You gasp loudly as her teeth snap into your neck. It’s not a love bite, it’s possessive. It’s stinging.

But Mizu, being the complex and non one-note person she is, does let go and licks at the reddened skin in apology. “I want to leave myself behind. Inside you.” She nuzzles her nose below your ear, huffing.

Your brain is just on lag, taking several moments to catch up with each of her revealed desires. “And…” you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth. “And if you got me knocked up on accident?”

Her arms squeeze tightly around you, burying her face in your shoulder. She’s silent for a heart pounding moment, you can actually FEEL her heart pounding with yours.

Her lips drag along the skin behind your ear. Her voice is low, dark. “Wouldn’t be an accident.”

Someone needs to take whiskey away from this woman. Or give it to her more. You’ll decide if you survive this encounter.

“Mizu-“ you don’t even know how to finish that sentence. You’re just… you don’t even know. You think you hear a faint ringing in your ears.

Her left hand dig into your side, gripping the fabric of your shirt. “Would you keep it?” she asks so softly.

“I-“ your brain is still on that fucking LAG.

Her breathing is slow, shuddering against your ear. “I wouldn’t make you, if you didn’t want to-“ she sounds so pained to say it your heart squeezes. You actually forget for a moment that that’s never gonna be an issue for you two.

Her grip on your shirt relaxes, before curling the fabric between her fingers tighter, clinging to you. “I’d just… beg for you to think about it,” she makes a wounded sound.

You swallow again, throat clicking. You’re becoming aware of a heat low in your abdomen growing warmer and warmer.

She holds you tighter against her, and her hips start rhythmically rolling up against yours like she’s mimicking how far she’d push inside to get what she wants. She’d work so hard for it, putting in all her time and energy and her unwavering determination-

“It’s selfish,” she’s murmuring against your skin, warm lips having traveling down to your neck. “But I’m selfish. I want it. I want it so much. I want to know there’s a little us-“ one hand goes between your bodies, fingertips pressed up under your naval like she’s obsessed. Her voice is strained. “I want to know it’s inside you. They’re inside you. I want to know they’re safe and warm. You’d keep them so warm. You’re always warm-“

You have never, in your life, ever heard Mizu babbling like this.

SHE’S STILL ROLLING HER HIPS UNDER YOU.

You finally grab her face with both hands in a rare moment of clarity to still her, forcing her head up to look at you in this haze of body heat radiating from her, from you, radiating everywhere between your bodies.

“Baby.”

Her head lolls back, looking up at you and oh my god. She is just gone. Her red cheek flush has spread to her whole face. Her lips are wet and parted, breath now audibly heavy. Her eyes, her eyes, her gorgeous blue eyes are now a storm. A dark, hot storm.

“Let me put a baby in you, dove,” her voice is strangled, slurred worse than you’ve ever heard as her half lidded eyes gaze at you.

Jesus, she’s bringing out the rare pet nickname she’s so desperate.

And just when you think Mizu is done shocking your system with this new side of her, her expression crumbles into the saddest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Please?”

She’s pleading.

What the fuck was in her whiskey?!

“I’ll-I’ll take care of the two of you. Keep you safe. Just let me- just let me-“ she lifts her hips up under you again, as if trying to tempt you into it. She hiccups. “Just spread your legs and I’ll do all the work.”

With strength she should not have while she’s absolutely smashed, she lunges forward, shoving you to the carpet with your legs spread around her waist. Her hot breath fans over your face, tinted with whiskey. She wets her lips. “Have my baby. Say yes.” Her hips press down into yours again. She whispers your name.

You’re tempted to say yes, despite still being sober enough to remember the logistics of this. She makes a very persuasive case. And it’s not just cause she’s grinding into you like she’s warming up to do it.

"Say yes..."

Click!

You both slowly look up (you more tilting your head back) as the front door opens and Mizu’s roommate Ringo comes in. He freezes in the doorway, seeing Mizu crouched over you in a very interesting position with your legs still spread by her thighs.

She scowls at him. “You said you weren’t coming back tonight!” She sways over you.

Ringo blinks. “Mom has Bingo in the morning,” he says innocently. “… did something happen?”

“She’s pregnant,” Mizu hiccups, before passing out atop you without warning, shoving a strangled noise out of your chest as you yell for Ringo’s help.

“Oh? Congratulations!”

“….Wait…?”

“RINGO HELP!”

In the morning, Mizu drags herself into the living room looking like she was just brought back from the dead, face drained of color and eyes squinting at the light behind her tinted glasses.

“Hi baby,” you greet her softly, cautiously as you watch her head to the kitchen, aiming for the coffee pot.

“Hi,” she groans. “I’m never fucking doing a drinking contest with that bastard again.”

You nod, “That sounds good."

You pause, "Do you remember anything from last night?”

She shrugs as she passes you. “Barely.” She disappears into the kitchen.

“Oh,” you turn toward her retreating back, propping your chin in your hand as you lean against the back of the couch. You wait until she’s out of sight to oh so innocent call out “I wanted to ask about how you were begging to impregnate me.”

Several loud crashes in the kitchen.

#mizu x reader #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu #blueeyesamurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu smut

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moonstruckme · 1 month ago

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Hey angel!! hope ur doing well!!

i was wondering if I could request roommate!marauders where they have crushes on reader buttt she already has a bf but he's just a total jerk.... and u sorta get the idea?? (if u haven't done one like this already)

much love!!! <3333

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: douchebag boyfriend, marauders fancy reader but don't genuinely want her to cheat or end her relationship for them

(poly)roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

It’s heartbreaking how lovely you look first thing in the morning. Sweet, rumpled pajamas, plodding gait, sunlight stretching over features still soft with sleep. You raise your hand to cover a yawn as you enter the kitchen, eyelashes still drooping like they’ve weights sewn into them.

“Morning,” you say on the tail end.

“Morning.” James opens one arm to you. You step into the hug automatically, and he drops a kiss to your head, his own private indulgence. You’re eyeing the omelet he’s frying up with his other hand. “Want one?”

“Mm, wish I could,” your voice is a somnolent mumble, “but Dale’s taking me to breakfast in a bit.”

James tries not to react, but his hold on you stiffens some. From the living room, he hears Sirius scoff. “Oh.”

“I’m sure your omelet would be better.” You pat his side, moving out from under his arm to go to the coffee pot. “We’re going to this cafe he likes, and they never have anything I want. Still, I can hardly show up full.”

James feels himself frown. Typical of your boyfriend to take you somewhere you don’t even like. Perhaps he’s a tad biased, but James thinks you should eat one of his omelets and show up full just to teach him a lesson.

He plates up the one he’s just finished. You tail him into the living room as he delivers it to Sirius, curling your feet up underneath you on the couch. Remus is sitting in the armchair reading the paper. He and James have already had their breakfasts, but you and Sirius are always the last up on weekends.

“Are you finished with the funnies?” you ask Remus.

He looks up at you with a tenderness James doesn’t know how you can’t see. “Yeah,” he says, shaking out a page. “Here.”

Sirius snickers at your choice of reading material as you reach across him for it. You nudge his thigh with your knee. “Bite me.”

“Anywhere you’d like me to, babe.” He winks.

You roll your eyes and fold the page to read, well used to Sirius’ flirting. Similarly to how he’d done with Remus, Sirius’ ill-advised tactic for winning you over involves alternating between taunting you relentlessly and acting like his affection for you is all one big joke. It only barely worked on Remus—James’ interference had been required there, and that was before he’d admitted to himself his own feelings for either of the two boys—so James doesn’t understand why Sirius would give it another go with you.

“Oh.” Remus closes his paper, seeming to remember something. “I was wondering if you might have time to go with me to the farmer’s market this morning. We’re out of eggs, but I can’t haggle with the woman like you do.”

You give him a sorry sort of smile. “I would, but Dale’s meant to pick me up at ten.”

“Oh, well.” Sirius rolls his eyes, chewing malignantly on a bite of omelet. “If Dale said he’ll be here at ten, then surely that’s what’s happening.”

You bump his thigh again good naturedly. “Be nice.”

James bites his tongue, and even Remus reopens his newspaper with a tad more vigor than necessary. Sirius is by far the most vocal with you about your boyfriend’s flaws, but your roommates all hate him. The guy’s a prick. James would never in a million years try to convince you to leave your partner for them—and despite Sirius’ joking, he knows neither of the other boys would want that either—but if you broke up with Dale, he would be very tempted to throw a party.

James really doesn’t understand how someone like you could end up with someone so holistically unpleasant as your boyfriend. He’s rude, inconsiderate, he doesn’t express any gratitude for the sweet things you do for him, and he is never where he says he’s going to be when he says he’s going to be there. He shows so little regard for anyone but himself. If he told you he was going to pick you up at ten in the morning, he’s just as likely to arrive at three in the afternoon. Even for your half-hearted defense of him, it’s nearly ten and you’ve made no move to change out of your pajamas or get ready, because you know he won’t be here on time. It irks your roommates to no end to see you tolerate such poor treatment.

“Maybe you can go with Remus to the farmer’s market,” you tell Sirius. “You seem like you could negotiate.”

“Sirius doesn’t know how much eggs are supposed to cost,” Remus says idly.

“Oi!” Sirius objects through a mouthful of omelet. “I do so.”

James smiles at him. “Really. How much do you think eggs cost, love?”

Sirius manages to take another bite while James is asking, so his mouth is conveniently too full to answer.

“I can manage it on my own,” Remus says with indulgent fondness. “Dove, do me one favor, though?”

You lift your coffee. “Sure.”

“Don’t let him summon you outside with his horn again.”

There’s a brief but thick silence while you finish swallowing your coffee and all three boys try not to look too obviously judgmental (Sirius trying the least, naturally). The purse of your lips reveals some embarrassment.

Still, your voice comes out unconcerned. “It’s not a big deal to me. It’s not like we’re in school and I need him to come to the door and meet my parents. It’s a time saver.”

“It’s rude,” says Remus gently. “You deserve someone who will come to the door for you.”

James’ thoughts exactly.

“Sure you don’t want some toast or something while you wait?” James asks, partly to dispel the tension and partly because he really does think you should eat something if Dale isn’t likely to be here until the afternoon. “You could call it an appetizer.”

You stand with your emptied coffee mug, passing an affectionate hand over James’ hair as you move between his legs and the coffee table. “Thanks,” you say genuinely, “but I’m alright. I’m going to go get ready.”

However eager James is to avoid the tension that comes from insulting (or, really, just speaking frankly about) your boyfriend, Sirius has no such concerns. “While we’re telling Dale things,” he says after you, “be sure to remind him that our flat has a three-strike roommate tears policy. Next time you come home crying, Jamie and I get to make a house call.”

Your laughter echoes down the hallway. “Sure, I’ll let him know.”

Sirius looks at James, perplexed. “Did I sound like I was joking? I was not using my joking voice.”

James pats his leg consolingly.

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