#I managed to find the movies somewhere else at least

[self-indulgent-paw-patrol]

I don't know if you've seen the movies but the first one is about wtf Ryder, how you take your traumatized dog to the city that traumatized him and you hope he's okay and in the end he resolves his trauma?? Idk

I like it it's interesting, the second one isn't so much of my favorite maybe it's because I don't think Skye is like that at all. The first movie seemed very Chase to me, but the Skye thing? It didn't seem too much like Skye to me.

But it just my opinion. :D

Yeah I didn't get to watch the movies yet because I only started watching Paw Patrol last month and I'm trying to do this in the "correct sequence" for seasons, specials and movies. I just started 5th season last night, and from what I saw, I'll watch the first movie after the 8th season, so YEAH, LONG ROAD AHEAD FOR ME YET

But I've seen some gifs here and there around Tumblr AND LET ME TELL YOU THAT'S THE SAME IMPRESSION I HAVE SO FAR ABOUT THE FIRST MOVIE LMAOOOO ALL I SEE IS CHASE IN DISTRESS AND I'M LIKE RYDER WHAT ARE YOU DOING ARE YOU GIVING YOUR CHILD ANXIETY

[stayteezdreams]

Movie Night

Plot: During your bi-monthly movie night with the guys, Yunho, your long time friend and secret crush, decides to finally make a move.

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Detailed Kissing, mild touching. Not nsfw or smut, but hinting at that direction. 18+ only please.

A/n: This is the first fic in which I am getting a bit more detailed with kissing/suggestive content, so I hope you like it. Note: I will not write nsfw/smut detailed content.

Words: 3.4k

After grabbing the final bowl of popcorn you headed into the living room. Everyone was finding their spots as you moved to your favorite corner of the large couch.

As you began to settle, Wooyoung moved to sit beside you, but Yunho appeared as well. You watched as Yunho wordlessly tapped Wooyoung's shoulder before waving his hand, gesturing for him to go somewhere else.

As Wooyoung let out an annoyed whine before moving over to sit beside Yeosang, you felt your heart flutter as Yunho grinned at you as he sat down beside you.

You smiled at him with light amusement, trying to ignore your increasing heart rate and warming cheeks due to his actions. Yunho often sat beside you, but if someone else sat next to you first he would just sit somewhere else. This was the first time he made sure he sat beside you.

While Yunho got comfortable beside you, you pushed away your hopeful thoughts, assuming you were looking for something that wasn't really there. Though, the proximity of Yunho's body next to yours was unusually close. Much closer than normal. Glancing beside Yunho, you noticed almost a foot of space between him and San.

He didn't have to be this close, so why was he? Your heart fluttered again as you moved your attention to Wooyoung and Hongjoong arguing about which movie to play first.

As Yunho chuckled at them, he pushed himself further into the couch, his arms noticeably pressing against yours, almost as if he was doing it on purpose.

When Hongjoong and Wooyoung finally decided on a movie, you managed to concentrate on it as it played. At least for a short time, up until Yunho nestled himself closer to you as he moved his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side.

Your felt your breath catch as your heart skipped a beat. You resisted glancing over at him, not wanting him to see how his actions affected you.

You had sat like this before, hell you two had cuddled a hundred times. But ever since you realized you had feelings for your best-friend, every time felt different now, a form of pleasant torture.

You forced yourself to focus on the movie, but as hard as you tried, your mind kept drifting back to Yunho's arm draped around your shoulder. And you couldn't help but notice the way he seemed to press circles into your shoulder with his fingers absentmindedly.

Although your stomach was in a constant flutter, you allowed yourself to relax more into the couch. And you finally began to grow comfortable again, until the second movie began to play, and San decided he wanted to lie down.

He stretched himself out, purposefully pushing Yunho against you with a playful grin. Yunho playfully smacked him, making San chuckle, but as San relaxed himself, you noticed Yunho did not move away from you. His arm had moved from your shoulders and was now wrapped around your waist, and you felt like one slight movement towards him would put you on his lap.

Your heart was racing as your neck burned hot. Did this not affect him at all?

You reminded yourself with a soft breath that it used to not bother you either. You used to never notice how close the two of you would get sometimes. But now you seemed hyper aware of every action, of every touch.

Wanting to relieve yourself of some of this torture, you started to adjust yourself so you weren't invading his space so much, you tried to position your legs comfortably, but as Mingi sat on the ground in front of you, you couldn't quite do it.

Suddenly, Yunho reached over with his free arm, grabbing your legs, and lifting them. He pivoted you until you were turned more towards him, your legs draped across his lap. The arm around your waist, held you closer as he moved himself towards you again, pressing the two of you together into the corner of the couch. You were about 70% on top of him, as he held you in his arms.

Your eyes locked with his as he finished adjusting the two of you. You knew your face must have appeared stunned as Yunho smiled in amusement. Something seemed to sparkle in his eyes, something almost mischievous, before he covered it up with an innocent and quizzical hum.

Pulling you closer so you were against his chest, your heart raced as you weren't sure what to do. He placed his attention back on the movie with a simple clearing of his throat, as if what he did didn't affect you. This was different than normal, tonight his actions almost seemed calculated, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

Did he become aware of your feelings? Was he teasing you? Or maybe he felt the same? Or, maybe it was just your cuddle loving best-friend being a bit clingier tonight.

As your heart and mind raced, Yunho kept his hand on your waist, holding you against him, his other hand gripping your thigh lightly. Occasionally, his hands would lightly squeeze, and every single time, your heart jolted.

No matter how much your heart or mind raced, you found yourself relaxing into him. No matter how much his touch drove you crazy, you felt comfortable in his arms.

Whether he was doing it on purpose or not, you allowed yourself to sink into his embrace as the night went on.

As it grew later into the night, all the snacks had been eaten, and the last movie was played. Seonghwa had turned the lights off, leaving the living room dark apart from the light from the television screen.

Wooyoung, Mingi and Hongjoong were half asleep, as the others casually watched the movie while playing on their phones or chatting quietly.

You were still lying against Yunho, having not moved since he first pulled you against him. Not just because you didn't want to move, but because he wouldn't let you. Any time you adjusted or slightly moved, his grip would tighten, as if he feared you were going to get up.

As the late-night chill began to settle, you felt a shiver radiate through you, you felt yourself leaning into Yunho for warmth. Yunho glanced down at you, having noticed. Reaching over, he tapped San who lazily looked over, obviously having been on the verge of sleep. Yunho motioned for one of the blankets on the edge of the couch.

You looked over as Yunho moved, seeing him taking a blanket from San before opening it to place it over the two of you.

You felt your heart flutter as you realized he must have noticed you were getting colder. After fixing the blanket over the two of you he held you a bit closer as he brought his mouth near your ear.

"Better?"

Another shiver ran up your spine, but not because of the cold. Glancing up, you caught his eyes and nodded with a soft smile. He smiled in return, and you swear you saw his gaze flick to your lips for a moment.

You looked away from him quickly, missing the soft smirk playing on his lips as he continued to watch you for a moment.

Yunho knew you must have noticed his change behavior by now. With the way you would freeze, or your breath would catch anytime he moved to hold you closer.

He needed to be more obvious with his feelings for you to really notice how he felt about you. The two of you were already so close, his past actions seemed normal, so he decided to be a bit riskier with his touches.

Ever since he noticed how you started to be a bit more distant or react to his touch more than you had before, he realized your feelings had changed. And now he knew it was finally his chance to show you he felt the same, that he had for a long time.

Yunho was emotionally intelligent, and he knew exactly what he wanted, and needed to say to you, but anytime he wanted to, he felt it was too hard. So, he decided to let his actions speak louder than his words, in hopes you would understand, finally, how he felt. How you made him feel.

With his actions tonight, you would know now, just how your touch had affected him for so long. How every time you rested your head on his shoulder his heart would flutter. Or how you would wrap your arms around him in a hug, his breath would catch. How every time you were close to him, he wanted to reach out and hold you.

It had been torture for him for so long, and now you were feeling the same. He wanted it to end for the both of you, and become something so much more.

Gently, Yunho's fingers began rubbing circles into your side, gradually, the movement caused your shirt to rise until his fingers were touching your skin, but still, he didn't stop. His other hand seemed to be squeezing your thigh absentmindedly as he continued to watch the movie, seemingly paying you no mind.

His touches were driving you crazy, but was worse was that you were still unsure if he was doing it on purpose or not. You wanted to believe he was, that way you would know he felt the same. But you two had been far too comfortable with each other during your friendship for you to know for sure if this was different.

You hadn't realized you let out a sigh, but Yunho did. He smiled softly to himself, wondering just how crazy he was driving you. You seemed to be avoiding his gaze, trying your best to ignore his actions. Maybe you still didn't get it.

Your breath caught as Yunho's hand slid from your thigh, slowly up your waist, his fingers gently grazing until he found your hand resting against your stomach. Taking your hand, he intertwined his fingers with yours to hold your hand.

From the positioning of your hands, you were certain he must feel the way your heart was beating painfully in your chest. Slowly, you moved your head from his shoulder to look up at him, only to find him already looking at you.

You froze as his eyes locked with yours, he had a soft smile on his lips. A knowing one, one that told you he did know what he was doing. As the light from the tv lit up his face you saw his eyes shifting around your face, as if he was admiring you. His gaze paused on your lips before he met your eyes again.

Yunho could see the unspoken confusion in your gaze, the questions racing through your mind. His smile grew just a bit as he pulled you a bit closer and squeezed your hand.

His face continued to grow closer, before you felt his breath brush your lips, his nose pressing gently against yours. There was a subtle smile still present on his face as his eyes remained locked with yours.

At an almost agonizingly slow pace, his lips pressed against yours. A gentle, soft kiss, before he pulled away just to look into your eyes. Seeing how you would react. You were obviously stunned but made no move to pull away or tell him to stop. So he leaned in again, the kiss more affectionate this time. Your eyes closed as you felt yourself melt into him, your mind going blank.

Slow, yet determined, his mouth explored yours. His tongue gently grazed your lips as if he was uncertain to go further. His hand around your waist pulled you closer to him as his other hand gripped your own tightly. The kiss became a little sloppy as Yunho had a hard time restraining himself. As badly as he wanted to show you just how much he wanted you, he was still aware of the others in the room.

With a soft tug of your bottom lip as he pulled away, he let out a soft restrained breath. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze. Releasing your hand, he brought his hand up to gently caress your cheek.

Leaning closer, he pressed his cheek against yours as he whispered softly, "I've been wanting to do that for so long."

Pulling away he saw the shock in your gaze, as if you truly did not expect him to have had feelings for you, let alone for a long time. He smiled softly.

Your mind was racing with various thoughts, questions, and screaming. Unable to find words to express yourself, you found yourself repressing a flustered grin as you pressed your face into Yunho's neck to hide your shy embarrassment.

Yunho let out a silent chuckle as he cupped the back of your head, pressing a kiss to the top of it. Your reaction was endearing, and all he wanted was to hold you and express to you just how much he cared for you.

Hearing Wooyoung make an annoyed comment at the movie, your heart jumped. You had almost forgotten the others were there. Looking around, you were glad to find no one paying you any attention, half of them being asleep now.

Sparing a shy glance up at Yunho he was grinning down at you. Looking around himself, he met your eyes again before suddenly leaning down and kissing you again.

You barely caught the gasp that tried to escape. He pulled away and smiled teasingly before he looked around again. Meeting your eyes, he gently cupped your chin as he leaned forward. His lips barely brushed yours before he pulled you into another kiss.

This time the kiss was not restrained, his tongue pushed past your lips as he explored your mouth. Your heart jolted at the action as your hands gripped his shirt. His hand on your waist tightened as if he was losing a battle with himself. His hand moved from your face to the back of your head as he deepened the kiss even more.

You found it hard to breath as you almost saw stars from the desperation behind his kiss. A loud noise from the movie allowed you to pull yourself from the gradual loss of awareness. Pushing Yunho lightly, he pulled away. He repressed his panting breaths, not wanting to draw attention.

His eyes met yours and you saw a bit of guilt behind them, as he realized he had let himself go a bit too much.

You looked around to see you had still not drawn an attention to yourself. Meeting Yunho's eyes again you smiled softly out of shyness, and he smiled in return.

Yunho swallowed harshly, reminding himself he needed to hold back. You responded well to his actions, but you were not alone.

As Hongjoong began speaking to Wooyoung and Jongho, Yunho pulled away from you a bit. His hand remained on your waist, as he gently took your other hand in his own.

Yunho wished the movie would go faster as he gently played with your fingers underneath the blanket. You shared a few bashful and longing looks for the rest of the movie.

Yunho risked a few kisses to your temple and cheek, causing you to only sink further into the couch out of shyness and fear of being caught. Every time, Yunho repressed a proud and teasing chuckle.

When the movie finally came to an end, Seonghwa flicked on the lights in hopes of waking those who fell asleep. A chorus of groans filled the room as the lights burned your eyes.

Yunho, though reluctantly, let go of you and pulled away, so that no one noticed just how close you had gotten by the end of the night.

Your mind raced with questions to ask Yunho. How long had he liked you? Did he already know about your feelings? Why did he decide to make them known tonight?

Your heart also burned with want, you wanted him to kiss you more, to hold you close again. You almost felt shameful, but the way Yunho kept finding your gaze and matching it with his own almost lustful stare told you it was not you alone who felt it.

After helping to clean up, some decided to stay the night at Seonghwa's rather than making the journey home. Yunho volunteered to walk you home, since you lived only a short walk away.

Your heart jolted at his offer, but it came as no surprise to the others. You said your goodbyes before you and Yunho began walking down the road. Yunho wasted no time in taking your hand in his.

You smiled over at him as he grinned. All of your questions came rushing to mind again, but you weren't sure where to start.

"Yunho-"

"Three years."

You looked at him with a questioning gaze as he smiled. "That's how long I've had feelings for you."

You were shocked, hesitating in your steps for a moment. "Three years?!"

He chuckled softly, "I knew your feelings hadn't changed, so I didn't bother to say anything."

You looked down at your feet as you walked, guilt racing through you. "Then….how did you know my feelings did change? And when?"

He thought for a moment, "I started to notice you acting more reserved or shy around me a few months ago, especially when we were close, physically."

You felt your ears burning as Yunho smiled slyly at you. "At first I wasn't sure if I was looking for something that wasn't there. But eventually I figured out it was what I thought. So, I decided to do something about it."

"Tonight was you doing something about it?" You let out a soft laugh as he nodded. "Why not just ask me on a date, or tell me?"

He hummed, "I guess I wanted to tease you a bit." He smirked at your soft glare at him. "I had been dealing with the torture of being close to you without getting to do anything, so I thought…"

You stopped walking, "You thought I deserved to feel it too?"

Yunho hesitated for a second. Should he have thought about it more? Was it going to make you angry?

Smacking his shoulder with an annoyed expression Yunho let out a laugh. "I'm sorry." He pulled you towards him as he looked into your eyes. "I guess it was a little petty. But…I liked how you reacted."

You glared at him, your heart and stomach fluttering heavily at his words. He leaned closer to you, brushing his nose against yours, he questioned you with his eyes, and when your already forced glare faltered and you repressed a smile, he dove in for a kiss.

His hand cupped the back of your head as he kissed you almost hungrily. With no others around to possibly see you, he allowed himself to pull you closer, his hand travelling down your back and resting just above your hips as his fingers dug into your skin.

Pulling away, he smiled at you while licking his lips, repressing the urge to kiss you again, he took your hand in his once again and started to walk with you.

You were flustered by his quick changing actions, as your heart raced, and face burned hot.

As you turned down a street, you looked around confused. "My house is the other way."

You could see a smile spread on his face, "I know. We aren't going to your house."

"Then where are we going?"

"My house."

He glanced back at you, a soft smirk on his face as his eyes seemed heavy, a hunger in them you felt twist your stomach in excitement.

You didn't refuse him as you allowed him to lead you down road after road, the streets becoming familiar again as you got closer and closer to his apartment building.

Your chest was heavy with anxiety, as your heart and stomach fluttered with anticipation. This wasn't how you imagined a relationship with Yunho beginning, but you really weren't complaining. Both of you had tortured yourselves with silent pining for long enough.

Yunho's thoughts echoed your own, but with a hunger he couldn't repress. Three years was too long for Yunho to go slow in this relationship. He wanted to be in the middle before you even began. He had adored you, craved you, and loved you for long enough. It was your turn to understand just how much.

xx End xx

🌼 Taglist Form 🌼

General Taglist: @otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669, @tinyelfperson,

@pinievsev, @teenyfinds, @everythingboutkpop,  @shymexican, @stillwjk-channie-lixie,

@luckypaintertyphoon <still can't tag

Ateez Taglist: @soso59love-blog, @hongjoongsprincess, @thedistractedwriter, @dear-dreamie, @thunderous-wolf,

@briqnne, @hyukssunflower, @dinossaurz, @skz1-4-3, @staytiny2000,

@demonlineslut, @vnessalau,  @dancinglikebutterflywings, @tunafishyfishylike

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 9

Weeks pass, and their evening phone calls continue. The timing varies, but its a rare day that Kara doesn't hear from Lena. Each call feels like a gift, as Kara remains conscious of the constraints on Lena's time, and the energy expended on days she does her shows.

But on those rare evenings where her phone stays quiet, Kara can't help the concern that tickles at the back of her mind. She manages to refrain from issuing a check in, certain that it would be considered a nag, or at the very least an entitlement to Lena's time.

The morning following one such evening, the first text she receives comes in after she settles behind her desk, ready to tackle a mountain of paperwork. When she opens the chat window, she's confused to see an image of a glass-paned wall of an office building.

It's not until she spots the building number that she realizes that it's *her* building.

She all but sprints to the lobby, bursting through the front doors to come to a sudden stop to see a black suv and a casually dressed Lena Luthor leaning against it.

When Lena beams, warmth pools in Kara's chest. She surges back into motion, breathlessly throwing her arms around Lena to squeeze long and hard.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Lena says into her shoulder, seemingly content to remain in Kara's embrace as long as possible.

Kara laughs. "The best surprise. I've missed you."

When she pulls back, Lena all but bounces on her toes. "You down to play hookie with me?"

"Dodging another meeting?"

"Actually.... I miiiiight have cleared my schedule." From her puckish grin, Lena doesn't appear to feel all that guilty about it.

Kara's heart skips a beat. She can't remember the last time anyone has ever set aside time dedicated to her. It's been years since her last real committed relationship, and even then the time she spent with her partner had been perfunctory, a matter of course. It hadn't made her feel... special.

"Let me grab my purse."

---

They go to the movies. It's Lena's idea, but Kara is the one to choose the goofy comedy that has Lena in stitches before the end of the first act. And if the sound of Lena's giggling heats Kara's cheeks, who could blame her?

They continue to snack on their bucket of popcorn even as they leave the theater. Lena wears the same denim jacket over a zip up hoodie that she'd worn their first day in the park, and with her sunglass firmly in place, she almost looks like a normal person. No one seems to give them a second glance, for which Kara is deeply grateful for.

Selfishly, she wants to keep Lena for herself, for as long as possible.

"When's the last time you went on vacation?" Lena asks, apropro of nothing.

Kara blinks at the unexpected question. She takes time off every year, but she doubts her little staycations to relax and recharge are what Lena would consider a proper break.

"Define vacation," Kara hedges.

Lena laughs. "Time away, somewhere else. Maybe... with someone?"

Sensing the direction the conversation is headed, a thrill of adventure sparks in Kara's belly, even as she begins to talk her way out of it.

"Lena, I don't know..."

"I know, I know, but listen! I've got five days before my next show in Paris, and it's the longest stretch I'll have free for months, and... I want to spend those five days with you."

Kara stares at her. Lena rushes to fill the silence.

"We could go to Capri. Or the alps, if you want somewhere cooler? Or--"

"Yes," Kara interjects. Lena's rambling halts in surprise. Kara grins. "I don't care where we go."

Lena's answering smile puts the sun to shame.

---

Capri is gorgeous. Kara expects to them to be taken to another lavish hotel, but instead their driver heads to residential area, and when they stop, Kara finds herself at the gate of a sprawling villa.

"Wow."

Lena nudges her playfully. "Wait til you see the real view.

Kara follows Lena's lead. Carry-ons in hand, they make their way into the main area of the villa. When Lena places her bag on one of the long couches in the middle of the room, Kara does the same, then allows Lena to lead her by the hand to the verandah at the back.

The whitewashed terrace serves as the perfect frame for the vista that sprawls beyond the walled perimeter of the villa, all the way down to flat stretch of ocean reaching towards the horizon.

"Wow..." Kara breathes.

"I know, right?" Lena turns, sidling a little closer to press a chaste kiss to the corner of Kara's jaw. When her head rested on Kara's shoulder, Kara let her cheek rest atop it. "I'm glad you're here."

Kara sighs, surprisingly content. "Me too."

---

Though the villa's kitchen is fully stocked and equipped, Lena insists on going out for dinner. "I'm not about to stay in on a night like tonight," she says, and Kara offers little protest.

They choose the restaurant on sight alone, and the food is sumptuous and, once the sun goes down, decorated with a blanket of stars overhead. Lena looks stunning in a white shift dress, perfect for the weather and venue, and Kara's gaze roves in a certainly non-platonic way. She only feels a little bad about it when Lena catches her staring.

The other woman's gaze deepens as she reads Kara's appreciation in her expression, and a knowing smile curls her lips. When Lena's bare foot brushes Kara's shin beneath the table, Kara can't bring herself to pull away. She wants Lena, and she's rapidly running out of reasons to talk herself out of it.

Along the walk back to the villa, Kara points out as many constellations as she can recognize, only for Lena to laugh.

"There is no way I could possibly tell which stars you're pointing at," she says.

Rather than be deterred, Kara pulls them to stop. She positions herself behind Lena, her front pressing close against Lena's back. So close that she can feel the hitch of Lena's breath when Kara reaches one arm over her right shoulder, pointing at the brilliant anchor of the big dipper.

"There. You've got the bright one, which is Polaris. The north star. Follow it that way, and you can see the rest of Ursa Major."

Kara turns her chin to gaze down at Lena. The younger woman's skin glows in the moonlight, her hair nearly merging into the shadows. She looks ethereal against the moonlight off the sea, but in Kara's arms she's all to tangible.

"See it?"

"Yeah," Lena croaks. She tries again. "Yeah, I do." She shifts, reaching back to let one hand rest against Kara's hip. The touch is intimate though non-sexual-- a simple gesture to keep Kara exactly where she is. "Show me more?"

Kara does. She's able to point out most of the greeks-- Orion and Cassiopeia and Andromeda, among others. It's at least another hour before they get back to the villa, and the long walk leaves them melting into the couch the moment they sit.

Unable to keep from dozing off, even with the lights blazing, Kara wakes hours later to find Lena asleep on her shoulder. It doesn't even occur to her to move.

When next she wakes, however, Lena is nowhere to be found. Sunlight streams through the tall arched windows, illuminating the spacious room with a pale light that doesn't help this trip feel any less like a dream.

Stretching the kinks out of her back as she rises, Kara meanders to the kitchen, only to find it similarly empty. From there she explores the adjoining hallways, until the sound of hushed, harsh murmurs draws her towards one of the bedrooms.

Peeking through the open door, Kara spies Lena pacing, phone pressed tightly to her ear in agitation. Kara can't discern her words, but her tone is clear enough-- something is wrong.

Lena looks up when Kara gives the door a light push, and Kara is taken aback by the tears glittering in her eyes. Lena turns away slightly, muttering a swift "I have to go," before ending the call.

"I'm sorry," Lena grinds out, turning back towards Kara. "This-- this was a terrible idea, and I-- I shouldn't have pushed it--"

"Whoa, hey..." Kara interrupts gently. "What's wrong?"

Lena sniffs, before unlocking her phone to give to Kara. There, in all their telephoto glory, are a slew of photos-- of them. Here in Capri. One of them captures the moment Lena had kissed Kara's jaw the day before on the terrace, and others track their trek through the village and their dinner at the restaurant. The last one shows the two of them at the outlook, Lena pressed to Kara's front, with Kara's arm stretching towards the stars.

"I know--" Lena's voice cracks. "I know you didn't want this. That you didn't-- want to be seen with me."

Kara frowns. Papparazzi hasn't even been a thought in her mind, beyond one of their outings being interrupted by people hounding Lena. Her concern-- her *only* hesitation to committing towards something deeper-- has been the dread of losing Lena before having more than a taste of her.

"I swear, I didn't know they knew where we'd be," Lena continues. By now, quiet tears have spilled down her cheeks. "I didn't *know*--"

"Hey," Kara says sofly, cupping Lena's damp cheeks with both hands. "It's okay."

Lena shakes her head. "It's not," she croaks. "You didn't want this..."

"I want you."

The confession comes easier than Kara expects. It stills Lena to a mere tremble, her eyes taking on a hopeful glimmer through the tears.

"Anything else, I'll handle it."

Lena swallows, throat clicking. "*We'll* handle it?" she corrects, tentatively.

Offering a smile, Kara leans in and presses a soft kiss to Lena's lips.

"We," Kara confirms.

Lena exhales, tension bleeding from her in a visible whoosh. She steps Kara's arms when they open, nestling herself into the embrace as her hands grip tightly against Kara's shoulderblades.

"We'll do it together."

[yurinaa-world]

Could you do Gallagher, Argenti, and Boothill with an actress reader who’s considered the silver screen queen of Penacony, the Robin of film, inspo of Judy Garland and Audrey Hepburn.

“𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇”

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Gallagher, Argenti, & Boothill x Female reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who’s considered the silver screen queen of Penacony

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝒟𝑒𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃: Silver screen queen = "silver screen" refers to the appearance of the movie screen in the early days of cinema. It often had a slightly reflective, silver-like look. So, a "silver screen queen" is a star who shines brightly on this "silver screen."

💫𝒢𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒶𝑔𝒽𝑒𝓇 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝒸𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝒪𝒻𝒻𝒾𝒸𝑒𝓇 𝒪𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐵𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝐹𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎"

He remembers you from the start to the glory days, and still to this day you remain glorious since then. There is never anyone in Penacony who doesn’t know your name or face unless they have literally been under a rock their entire life, your face is plastered on every poster in Penacony (Usually it’s always to upcoming movies that all release on the same week).

The rookies at the security office love raving about how good you looked in your new blockbuster movie, even making popularity polls on the bulletin board about which one of your movies you look the most attractive in (spoiler: he rips it off completely and gives those rooks a nice hit).

You always make sure to come and visit him in the after-hours, he usually gets annoyed that anyone shows up or stays past the closing time but he’ll make an exception for you, any drink you like, on the house. Just stay a bit longer, it’s been a while since you last saw each other.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Should star like you really be drinking this late.”

He worries quite a bit about you, every time you show up, you always drink pretty heavy drinks as if you don’t have a stomach. How do you deal with headaches in the morning? “People drink all the time in Penacony, I’m just the only one in a bar.” Pushing your cup forward motion for another drink from him, which he takes with a huff.

“And who’s the one staying open for you.” 

“I could just drink somewhere else if it bothers you.” he could’ve just closed down for the rest of the day, but of course, you know he’s worried, just what might happen if people see Penacony’s ‘sliver queen’ walking around drunk.

 “And who would take care of you, who knows what creeps are around if you went somewhere else,” he groans while gently handing your 4th, or 5th drink? Who knows, it’s not like anyone’s counting. “If you’re going to drink at least do it at your ‘luxurious’ beach house.”

“It's not fun, I would rather spend all my free time with you.” He just froze at your words, staring down at the little smile you give him, lucky you said that while you were drunk—at least he has something to tease with now—yet he wished for you to say that while you were sober.

“Does anyone even know you’re here?”

 “Not at all.” Seriously, your managers sound more like strict parents, with how you're running out in a blue moon to come and drink. “I should get going before they find out,” groaning loudly while you just chug down your last drink in a single breath, getting off your bar stool before going into your pocket to retrieve your wallet. “It’s on the house…They haven’t started calling yet so you should stay a bit longer,”

“It’s been a while, who knows when I might see you again.”

💫𝒜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝐵𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝓎"

Have mercy on him, this knight of beauty, he sees the shining stars in the night sky but they can't even come close to the epitome of beauty you are. The way you’re beloved by so many in Penacony, it’s truly a beautiful sight to see (even though he doesn’t understand the dazzling entertainment you provide but it’s a beautiful sight to be able to gaze at.)

He can’t help himself but love every part of you and more, you grace him with your love for him and he shall repay it tenfold like the nimble knight of yours he is.

Small things he may do, a hard day for you, feet sore and slightly injured from the heels you wear (no matter how much padding you wear it still doesn’t help). May he be your assistant, allow him to do everything for you. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Imagen him not wearing his armour

“Is your foot alright, my dear?”

Your day felt like one of those days where everything was just slow, along with the counter of your heel just eating away at you with how much pain it was causing your heel bone throughout the day. 

You just grit your teeth under your smile while the counter of the heel wedges into the back of your foot, leaving a nasty red mark that you didn’t have the chance to take care of, just wincing at the feeling whenever you move your foot.

It’s gotten so bad to the point that even Argenti noticed the discomfort expression while looking at the foot, he couldn’t help but get on one of his knees to take a closer look at your foot—medkit beside him just in case you needed it, groaning in pain when he gently takes your foot, touching your burning bruise—he seemed pretty fixed on the bruise that looked at it for quite a while.

“Quite a gruesome bruise caused on your perfect skin,” He mutters, before quickly getting to work with a bandage to wrap around to put some compression onto it.

Just hearing you wincing and hiss in the slight pain when the bandages were pulled tight, he can’t help but want to comfort that horrendous pain. “My dear, may your pain be taken away quickly.” he smiles up at you while his hand gently squeezes your leg to comfort you.

“I’m grateful, but how will I move around my foot feels so numb?” you smile back down at him, not like you were serious just joking a little, but you should have known better since this Argenti.

He straight up picks you up with such ease and quickness leaving you in awe, while his arms under your legs, pushing you above him as you wrap your arms around his neck to be secure. 

“I shall carry you, wherever you need to go.”

💫𝐵𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓁 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝒶𝓁𝒶𝓍𝓎 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈"

Well, he’ll be damned, a total heartthrob lady like yourself, as his lady. If only he wasn’t a galaxy hunter, he’d have more time to spend with you and treat you better. Along with the fact your relationship is a complete secret from everyone in Penacony and those from the outside who come to turn to watch, which just makes things a bit difficult on both sides.

It’s hard for you to even meet up since everyone always seems to recognize either of you, Forget any type of date in a slightly populated area because it’s not going to work for the both of you, it just ends up with you wearing a full disguise, from clothes to makeup, the whole nine yards.

Sometimes he can’t even recognize himself whenever you show up at midnight for your small date to walk, scared him to death when you looked like that. Doesn’t matter at all though, he just wants to hold hands while you walk together taking in the view of everything when no one’s around.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I ain't interested.”

Boothill just brushes you off as if you were dirty, not even bothering to turn to look at you. Yet it shows: you did well with disguise if he can’t even recognize you.

“Only eyes set on me?” You laugh at him, just to turn around and look at you so confused, your voice matches but not your face.“It’s me, Boothill.” Gently smacking his shoulder while he looked relieved. You’ve gotten your disguise down to tea this time. Who knows what else those pretty hands could do?

“Fudge, I couldn’t even tell it was you.”

“I can’t let anyone recognize me,” 

His hand interwoven itself with yours, bringing your knuckles to his lips, and kissing it gently. “What can’t these pretty hands do?” He just starts gushing out compliments, he just feels a bit guilty for leaving you for so long without any contract with him while he was gone.

“Come on, got you somethin’.” Quickly taking you away as if you were both children running to a secret spot in the woods, when he said he had something to show he wasn't joking. It was a beautiful sight, rows of flower bushes, all different colours of roses; all Illuminated by lamps. You usually never have time to visit with it a popular sight to see.

“The roses look like you. I saw them an’ thought you liked them.” 

“I’m surprised you paid attention to your surroundings.” you can’t help but tease a little, he cares you tell under all that steel he’s made out of, even his heart is made out of steel but at least beating (it’s gotta count for something right?).

“I ain’t dumbaxe, I can remember my lover's favourite things.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[halliestinks]

Hello!! I really loved your cartman and reader who’s like his sister headcanons so i had a similar request

could you write another wholesome headcanons for a female reader who treats karen like her little sister? the reader only had brothers so karen is like her adoptive younger sister, and how would kenny react?? maybe he also has a crush on her? sorry if it’s too much <33

Karen McCormick w/ Fem!Reader who treats her like a younger sister

a/n: ty for the request! I had a lot of fun writing this and I love karen, she and her brothers deserve sm better :C I hope you like it 🎉🎉 (reader is in highschool & karen is 12-13)

• growing up with brothers was a struggle to say the least

• it’s not like you didn’t love them or anything, you just found yourself yearning for a sisterly bond

• so when you first met karen you instantly felt a connection and took on the role as the protective older sister 💪😤

• you met her at the park one day, she seemed really upset so you approached her and asked if she was okay

"my friends ditched me to go shopping, they said I couldn't come because I wouldn’t even be able to buy anything..."

“……do you want me to beat them up"

• ngl you probably freaked her out a bit at first LMAO

• she’s like ??? who are you???

• the only reason you recognised her was because she’s related to kenny. and even then, you barely spoke to him so it took you a little while to realize who she was

• to cheer her up, you took her to go shopping by yourselves. you willingly payed for whatever she wanted (though she argued that you didn't have to). and from that day on, you found yourselves hanging out frequently

• karen was definitely unsure at first, she’s never had an older female friend before so she didn’t know how to behave.

• but as time went on she started to open up, and before you knew it, you were having deep conversations and learnt a lot about her

• you occasionally invite her over to your place. and you have a girls night! giving each other makeovers, playing video games and watching horror movies is the usual routine

• since karen is also in the same sister-less situation as you, she will go to you for advice if it’s something she doesn’t want to talk to kenny about

• driving around mindlessly while blasting music is another fun activity you and karen enjoy (you jokingly follow people around town and make them think you guys are stalkers 🤭)

“isn’t that Clyde Donovan?”

“yah I think so”

“let’s follow him next”

“good idea 🫡”

• you then proceeded to follow him around until he took off running and squealing

• going over to her house is a rare occurrence, and it only ever happens when nobody else is there. you suspect that it’s because of her parents

• she only told you a little about them, but from what you heard they weren't very good people. luckily she has her older brother to take care of her, even though you didn't know kenny very well it sounded like karen really admired him

• speaking of kenny… karen constantly begs you to become friends with him. the conversation usually goes like this;

“you guys would be such good friends!! and then you can fall in love, get married and have babies so I can be a cool auntie!!!”

“…”

“😇”

“what! 😃”

• you do eventually run into kenny one day when you’re dropping karen off at home and he waits until karen can’t hear to thank you for everything

• you suddenly start seeing him a lot more after that encounter, getting to know him as well (karen teases you whenever she sees you two hanging out)

• he also joins you two whenever you’re at their house, and you manage to force him into modelling with you doing his makeup and karen paints his nails (he claims that he’s only doing it for karen but in all honesty he just likes spending time with you)

• sometimes when it’s a nice night out, you’ll take karen out to go stargazing

• you find a nice spot somewhere just out of town and you lay down either on the top of your car or on the grass

• pointing out silly imaginary constellations and giggling about them until you get tired and go back home

• you couldn’t wish for a better sister 🫶

[petrichor-idyllic]

@lu-thinkingstuff I accidentally deleted the original ask (and the entire fuckin fic I'd nearly finished along with it) so have a screenshot of your ask I managed to keep. Sorry.

I'm writing this as a standalone piece, but it can be read as a prequel to quite a few of my pieces if you please.

INDOCTRINATION

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. I know the request is fem!reader, but I guess this can be read as gender neutral since I don't think I used any pronous to refer to you, apart from you obviously lmao. Follows no cannon events. I am making this shit up. Can be read as a prequel to "Life before Drowning", any other of my fitting work, or as a standalone. Whatever ya want. References to the simulation sky that's in the books - if you're reading this as a movie fic, then let's pretend this is a failed WICKED experiment.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, annoying WICKED shenanigans, traumatised children, Ratman.

You met Minho when you were seven. Maybe eight.

The last few weeks had been a blur of chaos you can barely remember. With the Flare finally taking its victims in your hometown, families flocked to their last resort, donating their children to WICKED.

Most children weren't picked.

Of course, they weren't. Most children aren't immune. The occasional normal child was also plucked from the masses and swept away from the warmth of their families to the cold, white walls of WICKED's laboratories. But that was rare, and they were only ever valued as a control variable in whatever twisted experiments they took part in.

Not that you ever knew that.

The potential horrors didn't matter to most parents; yours included. Mothers and Fathers desperately passing their remaining blood to men in masks in hopes of saving their loved ones. There really wasn't much choice.

You were given even less choice as you were one of the lucky ones to be picked.

A white room became your home for several weeks. They made you forget your parents - those parents who willingly passed you into Ava Paige's custody in hopes you'd have at least a fleeting chance of survival on the infected planet.

They took your name, too. Your personality. The few memories you'd managed to develop so young. All of it; gone.

You were almost in a state of shock when they finally said you could leave your pristine tiled prison cell.

Following your capture through the endless high-tech halls and flawless clean corridors, you reach a large dining hall. Several long tables fill the room, along with the high-pitched chattering voices of children. The kids vary in age - some older, some younger, but that doesn't matter. They're all talking.

"Grab your food and find a seat." The booming, hollow voice of the balding man in a labcoat reaches your ears, and you can't even begin to process what he's saying.

"W-what?" Your voice is barely a whisper as you squeak out a response.

"Join the queue, and then find somewhere to sit. Your lunch break doesn't last long." He gives you no chance to ask anything else as he turns and walks back down the corridor. Leaving you with very little choice but to continue into the room.

Getting the food is the easy bit; a tray full of a passing excuse for food and a small cup of juice. Finding somewhere to sit is the problem. You mindlessly search for an empty seat, though your gaze mainly lingers on the masked individuals lining the room; armed and dangerous.

"Psst. Don't stare. They don't like it when you stare."

Your head snaps towards a voice. An Asian boy, about your age, leans over the table top, hand cupped around his mouth as he whisper-yells at you, like he's pretending to be subtle.

"...What?" You stare back at him as a grin creeps across his face as he sits back down.

"Those freaks? Duh? Don't stare at 'em. They'll snap at you." When you don't respond, the boy starts to sense your unease. "...You gonna sit down or what?" He vaguely gestures to the empty space on the bench across from him. It takes you a second to move, but he seems relieved when you do. "You got a name?"

"Uh, (Y/N)... I think."

"You think?" He scoffs as you struggle to get your leg over the slightly wobbly bench. You think it's wobbly, or maybe you're shaking too much; it's hard to tell.

"Well, yeah - that's not my real name, is it?" Your response leaves the boy unsure how to react. You're... not wrong.

"Huh. I guess. I'm Minho." He says with a grin. "And even if it ain't my real name, they made a good choice. It suits me, right?"

For the first time since you'd arrived, you find yourself smiling. Minho is charming, for a kid. He's already got an air of confidence about him, which is almost reassuring in this situation.

"Yeah," you giggle, "I guess it does suit you."

And that is how you met Minho. Reckless, cocky, funny, brilliant Minho. And by brilliant, I mean he is a brilliantly bad influence.

It's not like you got to see him very often - just over lunch and the rare breaks you both got at the same time. But when you did, it was always fun. You even developed a little group, mainly including Minho's friends - he has enough charisma for both of you.

The first time Minho snuck into your room, you were eleven.

It's the middle of the night, the faint sounds of footsteps from WICKED guards echoing through the small white room you reside in at nights. It's all background noise, now, you barely even notice it as you drift off to sleep.

Until the loud clattering of the vent hitting the floor makes you jump out of your skin, shooting up in bed.

"...shit." Minho murmurs as he peers into your room.

"Minho?" You whisper-yell at the sudden intrusion. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I couldn't sleep." He responds, matching your tone as he attempts to clamber out of the vent and onto the safety on the floor below.

"So, you decided to break into my room?" You climb out of bed, coming to assist your best friend as he slides down your wall.

"Yeah. Figured I'd give you a visit."

You cross your arms, eyebrow cocked as you glare at your friend. "Are you insane? We're gonna get in so much trouble if you get caught." You grumble at him, swallowing your initial shock (and your small smile thanks to his presence.)

"So? What are they gonna do?" Minho dusts himself off. "Make me train more? Poke me with another needle? However shall I cope?" His sarcasm results in another eye roll from you, but you can't help but chuckle as you shove him, playfully - but warning.

"They could lock you in your room for a week." A beat passes. "Again."

"Great." He grins. "Means I get some peace. Sleep away my problems."

"You're such a dick."

"You love me, really." He flashes you another signature cocky grin.

You don't even dignify that with a response. "What exactly are we doing then? Just... hanging out in my room?"

Minho hesitates, then looks back at the vent, then you again as a sly smile slowly creeps across his face. "I think I have a better idea."

And that is how you end up crawling through a vent in the middle of the night, and following your chaotic friend through the facility. Minho is a lot calmer than you are; cracking jokes, whistling and generally being a cocky little shit. You, however, are hissing at him every thirty seconds to shut the fuck up.

Somehow, you both stumble into a vacant hall. Well, Minho dragged you through another vent and whilst he gracefully jumped down, you fell in a heap on the floor.

"Christ-" you grumble as you dust yourself off, looking around the room. It's dark, unusually so - the only light creeping in from under the locked door to the room from the buzzing halogen bulbs. "Where are we?"

Despite your low tone, Minho doesn't do much to hide his voice. "Dunno. Damn - this place is huge!" The boy chuckles to himself, dragging his hand across the wall to navigate, the sound of his words, and comfort, creeping away from your reach.

"Minho-" you say into the void, further panic swelling in your gut.

"Yo, I think I found a light switch."

Before you can object that this is a bad idea, there's a hollow click, quickly follow by a binding light.

You weren't expecting it; expecting the same dull bulbs that consume the WICKED labs. But what you get is anything but.

The entire ceiling springs to life, imitating the bright blue of the sky you haven't seen since you found yourself in WICKED's custody.

"Holy shit-" Minho gawks upwards as he stares, too, finally in your line of sight.

The fake sky is scarily realistic - the glow of the sun, the faint fluffy clouds floating across the screen. You're not even sure you could call it a screen, honestly. There's not lines, or glitches or lagging from the technology. It looks so real. Like you could reach out and feel the damp clouds through your fingers, the heat of the sun on your skin.

You look at Minho, who looks at you at the same time. Both of you have no words; how could you? But your silence and exchanges looks say everything words could - what the actual fuck is this?

"...this is.." Minho starts, losing himself quickly.

"..beautiful." You finish for him.

"I was gonna say freaky." He responds, earning a chuckle from you as you wander into the middle of the room. "Hey, there's other buttons-" He says, gesturing to the control panel on the wall that he originally assumed was a light switch.

With the click of his fingers, dark clouds start to fill the fake-sky, creating a dimmer, more stormy atmosphere. But there's no rain. Just clouds.

Those seem to be the only two weather modes as Minho keeps switching between the two. Cloudy and sunny. It's definitely not quite advanced enough to imitate the real thing.

"Look- there's a time monitor." Minho mumbles as he moves a slider. The sky dims, as bright sunset colours fill the ceiling before it creeps into dusk, and then into a series of bright stars.

Minho's goofy grin says enough as he moves away from the controls, joining you in the middle of the room. You barely even notice him until he's crouching the lie on the floor.

"What are you doing?" You raise an eyebrow at him as he moves to lay on his back, looking up.

"Star-gazing, duh. What does it look like?" He says as he smiles at you, before gesturing for you to join him.

"We're gonna get caught-"

"Will you relax?" He chuckles, leaning up on his arms. "When are we ever gonna get a chance to do this for real? Might aswell enjoy it whilst we have the chance."

"It's fake." You cross your arms defiantly.

"Still pretty. Still better than our boring white rooms." He retorts. "C'mon."

You sighs, but relent as you move to lay next to him.

He's right. It really is pretty. The mimic stars sparkle and flutter, and suddenly the labs and the experiments feel worlds away, even if your escape is an extention of your captives skills.

Minho suddenly starts chuckling.

"What? What's so funny?" You say, turning your head to look at him.

"Nothing." He shrugs. "Just thinkin' that if Thomas was here, he'd probably be telling us about all those star thingies."

"...star thingies?"

"Yeah. You know? Those... stars that are, like, in a pattern."

"...constellations?" You can't help the amused smile creeping across your face at your friends ignorance.

"Yeah- those. They got names don't they?" Minho turns to look at you. "Thomas is such a dork. He'd know all of them."

You shake your head as you look back up at the ceiling, but Minho keeps looking at you.

"We should tell the others." You say, not noticing his gaze.

"What?"

"About this room. Newt and Sonya would love this."

"I thought you didn't want to get caught?" He chuckles and you roll your eyes.

"Yeah- but this is cool. They should see it."

A beat passes as Minho continues to look at you. "Nah."

"Nah?" You look at him, surprised by this. He's rebellious and fiery and is normally the first to drag everyone into schemes and fun despite the risks.

"Nah... this is... ours." He says, smiling softly at you, before he shifts slightly to slips his fingers between yours, looking back up. "Just ours."

And that's what it became.

At least once a week, you and Minho would sneak around and into this secret special room. You'd spend hours talking and messing around, and somehow, you didn't get caught. Or maybe some of the kinder WICKED people were turning a blind eye to two kids enjoying themselves.

Who knows.

It was like this for about a year. Maybe a year and a half.

But, things took a turn.

Minho was starting to revieve praise for his athleticism. He became one of the most physically capable subjects, and it was impossible to get him away from a rigged-up treadmill. So, by the end of the day, he was exhausted. Too tired to be crawling around vents with you.

You were thirteen, maybe fourteen when Minho ended up crawling though your vents again.

Hearing the familiar noise, you're out of your bed before he's even here, your bare feet already on the cold floor as he appears.

"Minho-?"

"I know. I know." He grumbles. "I'm sorry." He says, before you can even get so much as a word in, and it leaves you stunned.

"For what?"

"For like... not being here. For neglecting you, I guess." He shrugs as he runs a hand through his hair.

"Neglect-?" You cut yourself off. "Dude, they've been working you to the bone. You don't have to apologise."

He sighs, seemingly of relief. "Yeah, well, I still feel like a dick. You're my best friend."

"Well, you're here now." You attempt to reassure him. "We can go back to the sky room."

He shakes his head. "Nah. I was thinking we could go exploring." He flashes that damn grin at you again.

"...exploring?" You raise a brow, crossing your arms.

"Yeah. Yanno- like me, Newt and Thomas used to do."

"I never joined in with that."

"Well- you should've. And we were exploring when we found the sky room, so you're no so innocent." He chuckles, and you can't help but admit he's right. Yet, he continues at your hesitation. "Look, we found that room by chance. Surely there's more cool and interesting things to find. I'm getting bored of looking at the same fake sky everyday."

Something in that comment stings. You'd never gotten bored of that pretend sky. Maybe because you'd always been with him - and you could never get bored of him.

"C'mon." He drags out the syllable. "One night of exploration. Just one. Who knows how far they'll be making me run from now on. Better take the chance whilst you have it."

You playfully shove him at this. "...fine. One time only. Okay?"

"Okay." He smiles. "Let's go."

So, once again, you find yourself creeping around the sleeping facility with your far too confident best friend.

Though, when Minho reaches a locked door, you would've never expected him to slip an excess card out of his shoe, swiping it into the card reader.

"What? Where did you get that?" You hiss, wide-eyed and stunned.

"Some dumb lab-coat dude left it on the side. So, I picked it up. Finders, keepers." He says as he pushes the door open.

Sneaky around is one thing, finding hidden rooms through vents - but stealing an ID card is something else. You're literally never going to see each other again if you get caught. Not that you get chance to voice your concerns as Minho walks into the room.

This sinking feeling creeps into your gut, yet, you can't find it in yourself to tell Minho. What if he really is starting to find you boring? Being whiney to him about this would only confirm that. You don't need him getting closer with someone else, especially not the flocks of girls in the dining hall who have started taking interest in the boy since he started his physical training.

Okay. Maybe this is creeping beyond friendship. It was years ago, but you're always thinking about the way he held your hand the first time you found that room. How it was just yours. Your special place, just for the two of you. And he doesn't want to go there anymore?

You've never felt so insecure.

So, you keep quiet.

The first room is full of labelled chemicals you don't understand.

The second is full of strange, clouded tubes, with slimy, creatures with metal arms. Even Minho was eager to leave that one - to remain ignorant for his own bliss, pulling you along once you stop to stare into the tubes. You suspect Thomas mentioned something to him. Thomas has always been Ava's favourite.

Though, the third is far less scary. It's a office - well, more like a small library with a computer and a desk. Filing cabinets liter the walls with endless documents.

Minho lets out a low whistle. "A computer." He grins, casually sliding into the office chair as he starts fiddling with the computer. Having most of the common sense in this friendship, you've assumed that the computer is password locked.

Which is confirmed by Minho's hushed cursing.

So, you start looking through the documents in the drawers. A lot of them are medical files and general testing that you don't really understand.

Though, a few documents contain blueprints and titles such as "the Maze Trails" and "The Scorch Trails". They're detailed and confusing.

"Minho-" you gets his attention, passing him the notes as he's distracted from the computer, a puzzled expression crossing his face as he looks through them.

He doesn't get much time to comment as you find another interesting drawer; labelled "Subjects."

Flicking through a few, you recognise the pictures of the people you've spent the last few years with. Teresa. Thomas. Gally.

You stumble upon Minho's- grinning at his awful mugshot style photo. A7. The Leader. They've already got him marked down pretty faithfully.

Though, something consistent through all the documents is the phrase "status: Immune." Something about that stands out to you, for some reason.

That is until you reach Newt's file.

Staus: Nonimmune. Control Variable.

Nonimmune?

Nonimmune.

"Uh, Minho-?"

"These maps are insane." He mumbles, still examining the blueprints. "Do you reckon these are those big plans Thomas is always yapping about?" He picks his head up to look at you, noticing your face drop, concern written throughout your features. "What? What is it?"

"...we're all immune to the Flare, right? That's why they're testing us. To find a cure?" You don't even look up at him.

"Yeah..? Why else would we be here?" His grin is there, same as always, but now it's uneasy and uncertain. You look at him, before walking over and slapping Newt's file onto the table.

It takes him a moment to catch on, but when he does, his face drops, and he just looks at you.

Before any words are exchanged, footsteps can be heard from down a corridor.

"Shit-" you both scramble, collecting all the papers and stuffing them in whatever drawer they came from (or whichever is closest.)

It's a mad dash to get out of the room - adrenaline and fear coursing through you both. You didn't even find your own file.

Are you immune? Could the Flare get you?

Little do you know, Minho is internally freaking out over the same thing.

In your panic, your silence evades you, which alerts whatever guard was prowling the building.

"Quick! Up here!" Minho commands as he struggles to open a vent, giving you a leg up before yanking himself up the wall and diving in.

You don't even know where you're crawling to, you're just trying to rush away. But, eventually, it goes quiet, only the sounds of yours and Minho's panting in the small vent system.

"We have to tell Newt." You say, managing to turn in the small space to face him. Minho hesitates for a moment, but nods.

Of course you have to tell him.

"Yeah, at lunch, tomorrow. We'll tell him. But right now, we have to get back to our rooms. They'll be checking." You nod in agreement. "Let's get you back first."

Minho has a far better memory than you, leading you back to the safety of the room before he turns to navigate the way back to his.

"Minho-" you say, turning to look at him once your feet hut the floor, a sense of dread overwhelming you.

"..yeah?"

You can only look at him. There's so much you want to say, but none of it want to come out. Some deep gut feeling screams at you that this is the end, but you tell yourself you're being silly.

His blank expression pushes you to talk, though.

"Just.. be careful."

He offers a warm smile, but rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. See you at lunch tomorrow."

Your attempt to mimic his expression falls flat as he shimmies back into the vent and on his way.

You didn't know how accurate your instincts would be.

The next day, you make your way to the lunch hall. You're late- your lab testing ended up being longer than possible. But when you enter the dining hall, Minho's absence is quickly noted.

Though, you do spot Newt. Maybe Minho's running has gone overtime, again?

"Newt-" you shout him, jogging across the hall. "Have you seen Minho? We need to talk to you."

Newt doesn't even have to say anything as he glances at Thomas, whose eyes are burning into the table in front of him. There's some sense of desperation in Newt's expression, mixed with grief and regret, but like he can't say anything.

It makes your stomach flip and your heart stop as you open your mouth to speak, but you don't get any sound out.

"(Y/N)." Janson's annoying voice sends a chill down your spine as you turn to look at him. Two guards stand by his sides, his forced grimace doesn't reach his cold, unforgiving gaze. "I need a word."

Janson gestures for you to walk with him and you swallow a lump in your throat. Your first instinct is to run. Like Minho thought you. But in a room full of people? It's not like your quiet escapades in the middle of the night.

Your feet are like concrete as you force yourself to walk towards him.

Janson walks in front of you, the guards behind you. You're trapped, and even if you did run, that wouldn't change anything as he leads you into a room. It's a room you're familiar with.

It's where you have one-on-one progress conversations with Janson to discuss how you're doing. Minho spent more time in here than you ever did, but that doesn't mean the confines space doesn't fill you with anxiety, even in normal circumstances.

You take your place in the cold chair as Janson sits across from you, the slab of metal that is meant to be a table keeping you separated feels like a godsend. Though, not much of one with the guards breathing down your neck.

"...Where's Minho?" You manage to croak, attempting to mimic your missing friends confidence.

"He's been dealt with." Janson says, and your blood runs cold.

"What- what does that mean?"

"I'm sure you already know what that means. From your adventures last night." The world stops.

You knew.

You knew it was a bad idea and your own insecurities led you to keeping your mouth shut and hiding away from your concerns. What? Because of a stupid crush? Your own feelings of inadequacy have led to Minho's demise. And it's soul-crushing.

"I-I don't understand." You words falter, any false confidence quickly shattering.

"It's a shame. Really. It is." Janson nods as he leans forward, his elbows on the table. "We let yours and Subject A7's strange relationship slide because it was showing promising results. New waves in the Killzone we were examining. I knew we should've stopped it." He sighs. "...and now, you know too much."

"Where is he?" You spit, fists clenched, unused adrenaline causing you to tremble.

"I told you." Janson hisses. "You already know. But don't worry. You're not going to remember any of this." Janson nods towards the guards.

"What-" your words catch at a sharp sting in the side of your neck as one of the masked-men injects a burning liquid into you. You gasp, grasping the side of your neck. "What have you done?"

Your words slur slightly as a dull buzz fizzles into your vision, your head feeling light.

"My job." Janson leans back as he watches you sway in your seat. "What was always going to happen."

You can't even respond as your limp body slips out of the seat, and your consciousness leaves you before you even hit the floor.

WHOOP WHOOP. 1K BABYYYYY.

I guess this is my 1k follower post - and it's angst. That's typical of me. Sorry for the massive gap since I last posted something, but everyone's support has given me a drive to write. Well, at least finish writing this. Sorry if its not everything you wanted, but I've always felt there's something so much sadder about not getting that chance to say goodbye to someone, and things fizzing out instead of a bang.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed :)

[ierofrnkk]

Summer’s Over

merman!Cecil Dennis x reader (~5.6k)

Summary: Someone, or, something washed ashore when you went to the beach. You bring him home, and you realize that things are much more complicated than you would have anticipated.

Content: gn!reader, reader is fine getting their hair wet, Cecil is literally a mermaid, angst, he gets homesick, medium burn, it’s my mythology I make the rules

a/n: blacked out and wrote 4k of this in one day. merman!cecil has completely captivated me

-

It was early when you headed out to the beach to go fishing, something you’d picked up over the course of the summer. The sun has barely begun to rise in the sky, the entire scene completely serene and comfortable.

Making your way down to the shore, you let your eyes drift over the horizon, making note of the few small fishing boats that have already set off for their daily routine, far off in the distance.

When you get closer to the water’s edge, though, you see someone lying still in the sand. Your heart jumps in your throat, immediately worrying that a surfer had gone out to catch early waves and had washed ashore unconscious.

As you approach, though, you realize it’s a much more complicated situation.

—

The man, who you now wonder if you can even call him that, is lying on his side in the sand, definitely unconscious. Your concern is waylaid by the fact that in place of where his legs would be, is a tail.

Deep green and blue, with a large fin at the end where his feet would be and a few smaller fins on either side of the tail.

This isn’t at all how you expected your morning to go.

There’s a mermaid—merman?—washed up on the shore where you fish.

Your mind flips through about a million potential scenarios, most of which being some variation of you being still asleep in bed and dreaming this; you know it’s not true, though, and you realize that you have to come up with a plan.

You can’t leave him here, out cold on the beach where the early crowd will soon come, finding him and probably killing him to mount on their wall.

For some insane, absurd reason, you decide the next course of action is to take him home until he wakes up and you can bring him back.

Fishing can wait for another day. Or maybe never again.

—

With great difficulty, you manage to drag him back up the beach and get him situated in the back of your car.

There’s a mer-fish-person in the back of my car, you think to yourself on the drive home, trying your hardest to rationalize it. That’s fine. This is definitely something normal that happens.

After the painfully long drive home, you panic for about three seconds as you try to think of exactly where you’re going to put him.

Eventually, you decide on your bathtub. Where else are you going to keep a semi-aquatic creature?

You run the tap, letting the water warm to a temperature that’s close enough to the sea, and you manage to get him into the tub with a bit more effort. He’s still unconscious, or at the very least, asleep, but he stirs when you get him in the water.

It’s only after you’re done getting him settled that you really take a good look at him.

The deep green-blue scales of his tail stop somewhere around his midsection, just above his hips, where that beautiful color transitions into his human half. The skin of his abdomen is tanned, just a little bit soft but still toned—from all the swimming, is what you assume.

He’s got a little bit of scruff on his jaw, something you didn’t expect from your limited knowledge of merfolk, mostly spanning from poorly-made 80’s movies, but he’s handsome. He has a prominent nose and pretty, dark eyelashes; his hair is shorter, but a dark brown and slightly curly on top.

You’re staring, but you can’t really be blamed for it.

—

He wakes up a half hour later, clearly confused as to why he’s in your house and not on the shore. You’re sitting on a chair beside the tub, having been watching him with untamed curiosity.

“What the fuck?”

Not what you expected, but alright. It takes you a beat longer than you’d like to come to your senses and give him something reminiscent of an answer.

“You were unconscious on the beach, I, uh—“You shift uncomfortably in your seat, trying to find the right words.

“—didn’t want you getting hurt, so..”

“So you brought me home,” he interjects, and you nod.

He shifts in the water, tail flicking slightly as he presumably tries to get used to the new situation.

After a few beats of heavy, uncomfortable silence, he speaks up again.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.”

You give him a polite smile, unable to take your eyes off of those stunning blue-green scales.

He splashes you, getting you out of your head.

“You’re staring at me.”

Your face flushes, and you suddenly can’t bring yourself to look at him at all.

“Sorry, I just—“

He cuts you off before you can continue, chuckling softly. You swear you’ve never heard a more beautiful sound.

“You’ve never seen someone like me. I get it. You can look.”

And you do.

“I’ll bring you back tomorrow morning, early. I don’t want anyone seeing you, I can’t—“ You take a breath, shaking your head briefly at the thought of what might happen to someone as remarkable as him if you let someone else get their hands on him.

“I can’t let anything happen to you. If someone else saw you, they’d probably, y’know.”

You make a vague gesture with one hand, allowing him to fill in the blanks; he nods in understanding.

He doesn’t seem as bothered about his current situation as you thought he might be, probably grateful that you’d saved him from certain doom.

“What’s your name?”

“Cecil,” he answers, simply.

You don’t know what you were expecting, but his name being Cecil was definitely not it.

“Cecil?” You echo, a bit incredulous.

He laughs again, nodding in the affirmative.

“What, you expected something more fantastical?”

Yes.

“I guess I just…didn’t expect you to have, like, a normal name.”

“Can I have your name?”

You tell him, and he repeats the word like he’s trying to imprint it in his memory.

You decide that you like the way your name sounds coming from his mouth.

—

The two of you spend a good part of the morning just talking.

He tells you about where he’s from, a city deep beneath the sea, about how it’s not much different from any other city, it’s just…underwater. You find that interesting, and express your interest in seeing it someday.

He agrees with the sentiment—he’d love to show you if you one day develop gills.

You listen with slight surprise as he admits that he’s never seen a human before; he’s never gotten close enough. He’s baffled by your legs and asks—with a sincerity you can’t even laugh at—how you manage to swim with them.

You answer him honestly, that you don’t swim much, so you don’t really use your legs for that. He plays up his surprise at the notion that you don’t swim that much.

You ask him with the same sincerity how he can breathe under the sea without any visible gills. He tells you that he just can.

A part of you doesn’t want him to leave.

—

Living a short drive from the coast has a few upsides, one of which being your ease of access to fresh seafood—something he expressed that he does, in fact, eat.

So, you went out and picked up some crabs, cooking a few for yourself, while he insisted that you keep his raw. You made a face, but obliged.

It makes sense, but it’s still odd in your mind.

The two of you are seated across from each other, a plate in your lap and resting on the edge of the tub where he resides in the water.

You pick at your cooked crabs, watching as he eats his raw with something you can only describe as morbid fascination.

This isn’t exactly a conventional situation, so you can decide that you can ignore him eating raw seafood.

—

You don’t want to leave him alone, in some odd mix of curiosity and politeness, so you accommodate him, just for the night.

You bring a few extra blankets into the bathroom, setting them down on the floor beside the bathtub in an attempt to make the hard tile floor somewhat comfortable. It’s not the best, but it’s manageable for one night.

He seems grateful for the company, especially spending the night in such a foreign place, so far from home.

You planned on just going to sleep, but as you lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling of the darkened room, you can’t fight that curiosity, eager to fill the dead air.

“What’s it like, being so far away from the rest of the world?”

You can hear him shift, the water making a noise as he moves, presumably thinking about your question for a moment.

“It’s different, I guess,” he starts, pausing for an extended period before eventually continuing.

“That’s my world down there, y’know? So I’m not really far away from anything, but I know what you mean,” he clears his throat, and you can hear his tail making noise in the water.

“It’s hard being away from it, but it’s interesting seeing what’s up here. I’ve never really—ever—gone up to the shore.”

You listen intently as he explains that to you, and you can’t help but feel the slightest bit guilty about taking him home with you.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve just—“

“No,” he interjects before you can even finish that thought.

“I would’ve died if I stayed out there. Much worse people would’ve found me and probably had me mounted on their wall by the afternoon.”

The air is a little heavier now, more tense with the seriousness of the conversation. He seems comfortable with this topic, so you leave it for the time being.

“You saved my life,” he tells you, voice as sincere as you’ve heard it in the short time you’ve known him.

“I can’t thank you enough for that, seriously. I’ll find some way to repay you.”

You want to tell him no, that he doesn’t need to do that, but it feels rude to interrupt when he’s being so genuine and open with you.

This is probably the most honest, intimate conversation you’ve ever had with somebody, and they’re not even of the same species.

That part of you that doesn’t want him to leave gets a little bigger.

You didn’t even realize you had been getting so into your own thoughts, and it’s only when you feel another splash of warm water on you.

“Cecil, what—“

“You’re being too quiet. I just made this whole speech and everything and you’re not saying anything.”

You quickly realize he’s teasing you. Teasing you.

You can’t stop yourself from laughing at his choice of words, and he laughs along with you. When he smiles, you take note of the slight sharpness of his teeth, and that doesn’t deter you nearly as much as you thought it would.

You’re starting to really like his company, and that’s not good.

—

The two of you end up falling asleep not long after that, and you find yourself getting very used to the sound of his tail flicking in the water every now and then as he sleeps; clearly, he’s not built to exist in your bathtub.

It’s a constant reminder of the fact that he can’t stay here. You have to bring him home eventually.

You wake up before him, and spend this time bringing the bedding back into your bedroom, before ending up in your kitchen to decide on something for breakfast.

You settle on toast and coffee, and bring a small dish up to him with some leftover tuna from the other night.

He’s awake by the time you make it back up the stairs, the upper half of his body draped dramatically over the edge of the tub. He’s got a pout on his face, and giving a look you can only describe as puppy-dog eyes.

“What?” You ask, a laugh breaking through the word.

“Woke up and you were gone,” he starts, tone overly pitiful and sad.

“Thought you’d completely abandoned me here.”

You roll your eyes and hand him his plate. He accepts it eagerly.

“No you didn’t, you big baby,” you reply, your tone nothing but playful.

He makes a face of mock-surprise, and the next thing you know, his tail is flicking in the water and you’ve been splashed. Again.

“Maybe I should’ve left you on that beach,” you joke, and he snorts, starting to pick at the piece of fish you’d brought to him.

“I would’ve been better off, and unfortunately I can’t drown you.”

That gets a good laugh out of him, and you’re grateful that he’s taking this lightly—the last thing you’d want to do is offend him or cross a line.

You’re quickly realizing that he probably doesn’t even have a line to be crossed.

“Maybe in another life, I’ll come back as a human so that you can drown me,” he muses, joking as he finishes up his plate.

You can’t deny the feeling of warmth that blooms in your chest when he says that.

You don’t want him to leave.

He doesn’t seem to want to leave, either, because he agrees to stay an extra day. For your convenience, he tells you. You don’t know how to feel about that.

—

Since Cecil’s now going to be staying longer than anticipated—not that you anticipated him staying at all—you decide to stay by him to try and keep him somewhat entertained, since he can’t really explore your home, and you’re not strong enough to carry him around for long periods of time.

He very quickly finds a way for the two of you to pass the time, asking about different things that he can see from his vantage point, which you happily explain to him.

He asks about your hair dryer, and you demonstrate what it does by turning it on a low setting and letting him feel the warm air—it completely fascinates him, but you put it away before he inevitably dries himself out with it.

You watch with quiet amusement as he grabs the fork from your lunch plate, insisting that he knows what this is. It takes everything in you not to laugh when he brushes the tines of said fork through his curls, and after letting him carry on for a few moments, you gently take the utensil away from him.

He blushes a pretty shade of pink when you tell him the actual purpose of it, and you find yourself staring at him—not his tail, for once—for a few beats too long.

You have a few questions of your own for him, most of which involve his lifestyle under the sea, which he graciously answers for you.

“It’s just like how I assume life is up here,” he tells you, clearly very interested in talking about his home.

“It’s a city—we have shops and jobs, a governing body, the whole like,” he laughs softly, reverently.

“It’s a lot nicer than you’re probably thinking it is. I’d love to take you there, someday. Show you my home properly.”

That warmth blooms and blossoms in your chest.

“I’d love to visit,” you manage, barely able to keep your voice steady, taken aback by the sincerity of his offer, a contrast to his playful, sarcastic tone.

He grins, so wide that you’d swear he’s just heard the best news of his life.

—

You play him some of your favorite music, and you’re surprised that he actually enjoys some of it.

He likes the vibrations that your speaker makes when it’s playing, so you let him hold it as you choose the next song to play.

Good thing it’s waterproof.

He laments that he isn’t able to show you his favorite songs. Not in the way they’re meant to be heard, at least.

“Sound works differently when you’re that deep underwater,” he explains, trying to find the best words to describe the phenomenon.

“So music is a lot different; it’s beautiful. I’m sure you’ve heard whale songs before?”

You nod. Of course you have.

“It’s like that,” he smiles, and you can detect a bit of sadness in it. Longing.

“It’s so beautiful. The music back home is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”

You reach over and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He returns the gesture, and you notice that his eyes have gone glassy.

He clears his throat after a beat, using the back of his other hand to quickly wipe away any tears that have surfaced.

“Sorry, I’m, uh—not trying to get all emotional. Just a little homesick, I guess.”

Your heart breaks a little when he says that, and you decide with absolute certainty that he’s going back home first thing tomorrow morning.

“Don’t apologize,” you insist gently, tone soft.

“If I was far away from home and in a completely new place, I’d be pretty homesick, too.”

He squeezes your hand gently, and you continue.

“This has been really fun, and an unbelievable experience, but I’m bringing you home tomorrow.”

He nods appreciatively, and you watch him as he smiles.

It’s bittersweet.

He doesn’t want to leave either.

—

A sort of strange air lingers between the two of you after that.

You both know that this has to end. It’s not right for you to keep him away from his home to live an unfulfilling life in your bathtub, but you’ve grown fond of him in the short time you’ve known him.

He’s silly, but he’s so well-spoken. He’s seen things that you’ve only ever dreamed of or seen in a nature documentary. He’s lived a life so different from your own, and that’s exactly the problem.

You’ve moved your chair closer to the bathtub, sitting beside it and facing him, instead of sitting on the opposite side of the room as him.

You play more music for him, and let him bring your speaker underneath the water with him so he can hear it the way he’s used to. He smiles so wide that you can’t take your eyes away from him.

You keep your eyes on him as much as you can—you know that this is probably the last time you’ll see him, so you’re absorbing as much as you can.

There’s one more thing you really want to do, and when he resurfaces, you build up what little nerve you have left to just ask.

“Can I touch your tail?” You ask him, and immediately cringe, knowing you sound like a little kid at a petting zoo.

He doesn’t seem to feel that same awkwardness, thankfully, and that smile returns—softer, now.

“Sure.”

Before you can think to respond or reach out for yourself, he takes your wrist in his grip, pulling you closer until the palm of your hand rests at about where his thigh would be.

You feel your face go hot, but thankfully he isn’t looking at you—he’s focused on the slow, gentle movement of your hand on his tail. It doesn’t take you long to notice there’s the slightest flush to his cheeks as well.

The texture of it is different than you expected—his scales are smooth, and he feels more like a snake than he does a traditional fish. He keeps your wrist in his grip, bringing your hand down to where his knees would be.

To accommodate for the slight change in angle, you move in your seat, and this inadvertently brings your face a lot closer to his.

He raises his head to look at you, and clearly wasn’t prepared for the decreased proximity between the two of you, his breath hitching in his chest.

“Was that—“ he starts, clearing his throat before he continues. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your lips for the briefest of seconds.

“Was that okay?”

You can’t do this. You shouldn’t, at the very least. You can feel the warmth of his scales under your palm, the slight tremble of his fingers around your wrist.

You don’t kiss him, even though you know how badly you want to, you don’t. To answer his question, you nod, your eyes never leaving his.

“That was perfect,” you murmur, voice a bit too soft.

You know that you’re going to regret not kissing him, but you can’t set yourself up for that kind of false hope. Nothing could ever come from this sort of lingering attraction between you and the merman you found washed up on the beach.

“Perfect,” he echoes, and it takes a Herculean amount of strength to keep yourself from kissing him right there.

You shut your eyes for a moment, trying to gather what little amount of strength you have left to pull your hand away from his.

You figure that it doesn’t hurt to continue being honest with him, especially now, after something like that.

“I’m going to miss you.”

You swear his eyes have never been wider.

After what feels like an eternity of silence, he manages to get a few words out.

“I’m going to miss you, too.”

The knowledge that he’s leaving early tomorrow morning makes your heart ache that much more.

He shifts in the water, clearly going through the same thought process that you are in that moment. The feeling reminds you of when your favorite family member has to go back home after busing for the holidays. It’s inevitable, but you hate that it has to happen.

“Can I have something to remember you?” He eventually asks, the question catching you a little off guard.

Immediately, your mind flashes through every single thing you’ve ever owned in your life.

You nod in agreement, already having decided on what you’re going to give him.

Standing, you rush into your bedroom to grab his keepsake—a thin, silver bracelet—when it catches the sunlight, it gleams, reflecting the light so beautifully.

You bring it back to him, and when you sit back in your chair beside him, you hand him the bracelet sheepishly.

It’s simple, and maybe a little tacky to be giving him a bracelet, but the way his eyes light up when he sees it is a pretty fair indicator that you’ve made a good choice.

Immediately, he slips the cuff on, admiring the way that the silver catches the light coming through the window in your bathroom.

After a few beats of watching him dumbly, you manage to ask him the same question.

“Can I have something to remember you?”

You don’t expect him to give you something—he didn’t exactly come with anything, but he nods, and immediately you start to wonder what he could possibly give you.

The racing thoughts are quickly silenced when he shifts in the water, bending his knees and reaching down near the base of his tail, where his main tailfin begins. You watch as he takes hold of and plucks a scale from the end of his tail.

He hands you the scale, and you hold it like it’s the most fragile thing in the world. It fits perfectly in your palm, no bigger than a half-dollar coin.

It shimmers in the light—a beautiful mix of blues and greens, the hues shifting as you move it slightly.

“Are you sure?” Is the first thing you manage to ask him, completely floored by the fact that he’s literally given you a piece of himself.

His voice is soft when he replies, his eyes holding a depth to them that you’ve yet to see from him.

“They grow back,” he insists.

“I didn’t want you to forget me.”

Your heart twists and knots in your chest.

You’re holding him in your hands, literally. You can’t think of anything else besides the very definite fact that you’re going to hold onto this scale for the rest of your life.

“I could never forget you.”

You swear that he stops breathing for a moment when you say that.

The next thing you know, he’s sinking down beneath the surface of the water, evidently very flustered by this exchange and needing a moment to compose himself.

When he finally resurfaces, you watch the way his curls stick to his skin, damp and darkened by the water.

“I’ll visit you. I’ll come back.”

Now it’s your turn to stop breathing.

You trace your thumb over the surface of the scale, trying to wrap your head around the implications of this all, and the fact that there’s clearly now something between the two of you that’s hard for you to believe developed at all.

You nod.

“Okay.”

—

The tension between you and Cecil has simultaneously been broken and built up even more. You want nothing more than to kiss him senseless, to feel the way his curls feel in your hands, but you resist.

You’re not going to torture yourself, dangling the carrot on the stick in front of yourself like that, knowing that you’ll never be able to truly have him.

You feel okay, though. His scale fits perfectly in a locket that you’d yet to find a use for, so now it lives in the pendant around your neck—a memory that you’re never going to forget for as long as you live.

He’s wearing the bracelet you gave him. It’s silver, so it’ll never rust when he’s back home.

You share a plate with him when you have dinner that night. One side of the fish has pieces of raw salmon that you’d gotten just for him, and the other has a few pieces of the same fish, cooked.

His hand brushes yours “accidentally” a few times as you eat, and every time, your heart jumps in your throat.

—

The sun’s set now, and you’ve turned off the harsh, artificial light in the bathroom, leaving you two in darkness besides the night light plugged in on the opposite side of the room.

You’ve abandoned your chair by this point, having settled yourself onto the ledge of your bathtub. He’s resting his head on his arms, settled onto that same edge, right beside your legs.

He’s looking at you like you’re the one that hung the stars in the sky.

These are two paths that never should’ve crossed. Two lives that never should have met.

You can barely make out his features in the dim light, but you see him so clearly. You want to kiss him so badly it hurts.

His hand moves to rest on your knee, fingers tracing gentle, aimless shapes and circles against your skin, just below the hem of your shorts.

The feeling between you—some sick twist of desire and longing that knots in the pit of your stomach—is near unbearable.

Your hand comes up to rest in his hair, your fingers brushing lightly through his curls. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you for a moment, completely enamored by you and everything that you do.

You swear you’ve never felt such intimacy before in your life.

He’s leaving first thing tomorrow morning; you’re going to drive him back to the beach and bring him right to the water.

He’ll swim away, and that’ll be that.

The pendant weighs heavily around your neck.

You watch him as he shifts, bringing himself closer to you. One of his arms rests lamely in his lap, while his other moves to allow him to continue touching you. His hand has shifted to your calf, still tracing those gentle shapes against your skin.

Now, he’s resting his head on your knee as your hand continues to brush lightly through his hair.

You want to say something to him; you feel like you should.

A goodbye, or a sappy speech, or a hasty, uncoordinated expression of the feelings for him that have developed over these two days.

You decide against any of it. It’d ruin the moment, anyway.

The room remains quiet, save for your breathing, and the soft sound of the motion of the water as he shifts, the confined space of your bathtub clearly becoming too much for him to handle.

He’ll be out of here tomorrow, you remind yourself.

His hair is soft beneath your fingertips, and you wish you could remember the way it feels forever. You feel the way his hand traces up and down your calf, the motion repetitive and soothing all at the same time.

It’s like he’s trying to memorize the feel of your skin in his touch.

He doesn’t touch you any more than that, and you’re equal parts grateful and disappointed.

Eventually, you move to sit on the floor, leaning up against the tub. You miss the feeling of his hand on you, of his head in your lap, but this is just as nice.

The two of you assume a similar position, arms settled on the edge of the tub, with your heads resting on your forearms.

It doesn’t take you long to fall asleep, so close to him like this.

—

You wake up before him, the slightest bit of dread beginning to sink into the pit of your stomach when you register that today’s the day. He’s going home.

The sun hasn’t risen yet, so you take this time to get your things ready to bring him back to the shore—bottles of water, the bag you use to hold your beach towels—and get it all packed into your car.

By the time you return, he’s awake, and you give him a soft, reluctant smile. His expression mirrors yours.

“Time for me to take you home.”

The smile on his face falters for a moment, but he nods. You both knew this day was coming. It was inevitable.

It’s a bit of a struggle, but you manage to get him out of the water, and carry him back down the stairs through your home.

He’s looking everywhere, trying to absorb as much information about your life as he can gather from your decor.

Though your muscles protest, you walk a little slower, just to give him more time.

Eventually, you get him settled in your car. It’s not a very long drive to the beach, and there’s no traffic so early in the morning, so he agrees to sit in the front seat with you.

There’s a towel laid out on the seat, and you’ve given him a few bottles of water to pour over himself if he gets too dry; you don’t care about your car at all right now.

He takes in the sights of your city as you drive, all the little beachfront shops and tacky tourist attractions, the surplus of hotels for summer visitors, and everything else wedged in between.

The drive to the beach is quiet, but you manage to get there quicker than you would’ve liked to.

The sun has barely begun to rise in the sky, the sunrise reminiscent of the one you’d seen the morning when you’d first found him on the shore.

Once you park and gather your things, you begin carrying him down from the dunes, all the way to the shore.

Your muscles ache, carrying him wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but you didn’t have much in the way of options.

You know that you can’t just leave him on the shore again and hope he’ll work himself back into the sea, so when you reach the line where the water meets the sand, you kick off your shoes and keep walking.

The water is surprisingly warm, especially since it’s so early in the morning, and you continue to walk.

You can feel the nervous tension, the conflict that lives within him—he’s eager to get back in the sea, you know that, but as you carry him, he clings to you a little tighter.

Your clothes are getting wet. You don’t even care anymore.

When you get to around waist-deep in the sea, you lower him into the water, and he adjusts to being back in a proper body of water—his home.

This is goodbye. You know it is. It has to be.

He gives you that soft, crooked smile, the one that says more than any words ever could, and he disappears beneath the waves.

It’s not a few seconds later that you feel his hand in yours, pulling you along with him. You gasp, taking a quick breath as you’re brought under the water.

You don’t have time to process what he’s done, because before you can think, he’s put his hands on either side of your face and pulled you in for a kiss.

His lips are pressed to yours, his fingers curling around the back of your neck as he pulls you closer. Your hands manage to find their way into his hair, holding him close as you kiss him.

Your lungs burn in protest, desperate for air as he holds you beneath the water to kiss you. He must be able to sense it, because through some process beyond your realm of understanding, he passes breath to you, filling your lungs with air as he continues to kiss you the way you’ve wanted him to from the moment he met you.

It feels like an eternity later when he finally pulls away, and you manage to open your eyes to look at him.

He grins at you, wide and crooked, before he turns and swims away.

You watch him for as long as you can, until you finally have to resurface for air.

You wear that pendant every single day until he returns to visit you.

—

tags: @silvernight-m , @midgardian-witch , @femmeanonymelives , @faretheeoscar , @reallyrallyauthor , @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[cokoweee]

Whoops my hand slipped

She’d made Alfredo for dinner that night, with a side of garlic bread. He’d come crawling out of his cave when the smell of the garlic wafted through the air, eaten three bowls (and at least half a loaf of the bread )before giving a thumbs up and slinking off to some dark corner of the house. Which left her to sit in the living room alone. Lovely.

She’d sat on her phone for a bit before growing bored and turning on the tv, shoving an old disk into the cd player and pressing play. The room filled with the sound of Lou Jitsu’s cry of “Hot Soouuup!” as a menu popped up. Definitely wasn’t the thing she’d watch normally, but she was bored.

The movie had played for a grand total of two seconds before Othello reappeared, his hair tied into a messy bun, pajama pants plastered with Lou Jitsu’s face. She looked him up and down, taking in the outfit in all its glory before rolling her eyes and patting the couch next to her.

“ Ya know, I was just staring to get used to you and all your little quirks.” She monotonously, her eyes locked on the screen purposefully avoiding his watchful gaze, “ And sometimes I even begin to think that you are not as weird as I make you out to be.”

He stares at her, waiting patiently for the rest before the silence grew um comfortably and raises a brow.

“ And?”

“ And then you go to extravagant lengths to prove that you are exactly what I make you out to be.” Her eyes are still focused on the screen, but her peripherals give her a glimpse of a strained face.

“ Which is?” He presses, leaning slightly forward.

“ A total looser.”

He falls back immediately, all tension in his body gone. He slumps into the couch, head hanging over the back as he starts to smile.

“ And yet you still haven’t found somewhere else to live.” He says, eyes finding hers as he grins.

“Mmmm”

A hum is all that manages to escape her lips as she rips her attention from his eyes to the movie. They don’t talk after that, which is nice she supposes.

~

The movie is lame if she’s being honest, but Othello is clearly enjoying it. He’s mouthing along to the script and occasionally flailing his arms in the same motions as the actors. It’s kind of cute actually. The movie is long though, and after a bit her mouth becomes uncomfortably dry.

She gets up to walk to the kitchen, excepting even a slight reaction from Don. But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t seem to know she left, too entranced in the movie. How hurtful. She fills an extra glass, even though he probably won’t drink it, and makes her way back to the living room.

The drinks are placed on the side table as she scowls in disbelief. He’s managed to spread himself over the couch, his head resting where she used to be sitting. Ugh.

“ You’re sitting in my spot.” She spits at him, hands on hips.

He doesn’t say a word, merely lifting his torso in order her to slip back into her spot. So she does, and is mildly surprised when he lays his head back down. In her lap. She stiffens slightly before accepting her fate and resting her arm over him. He practically melts against her as she runs her fingers though his hair. The movie continues to play and her eyes droop. Her head falls to the side as she drifts, Othello mindlessly running his thumb over the arm she has draped over him. It’s nice.

~

She blinks awake, slightly startled to find that he’s still pressed against her. His face is nestled into her stomach, arm still wrapped around hers. A subtle churr escaping his chest as he breathes against her. He shifts as she tries to grab her water from the side table.

Eyes lazily flicking open, he looks up at her. She looks back, unsure of what to do. The churring has stopped, so he’s definitely lucid now. His head turns into her stomach again as he gets comfortable.

“ Do you mind if we stay like this a bit longer?” He mumbles against her.

“ Why?” She asks, not really caring, because this really isn’t half bad, and maybe she likes it. Just a little.

“ Warm.” He breathes, looping an arm around her waist.

Too tired to care - and definitely absolutely not because she likes it- she hums in agreement, moving her arm to cradle his head. He melts impossibly closer, before saying something again, his words lost against her shirt.

“What?” She frowns slightly, looking down at him again.

“Smell nice.” He murmurs, tightening his grip around her waist slightly. “ Like Lavender.” He manages, voice trailing off as he drifts back to sleep.

Then he is silent once more and resumes his nap, soft churring filling the room as he sleeps.

~

This is definitely not based off that doodle. Nope. Nuh uh.

I WAS JUST ABOUT TO ASK IF IT WAS ANOUT YHAY DOODLE AGZRARZHAGZ

DEAD DEAD DEAD THIS IS GETTING IN THE PIN

[writerfae]

Christmas movie au Advent Calendar 🎄

Day Twenty-Three:🌠ChristmasCard🌠

Christmas special tag list: @bunnymermaidsblog @deadlycupid @dustylovelyrun @ladywithalamp @sleepy-night-child @theguywithnonickname

The rest of the day was nothing but a blur to him, like looking through a frozen window.

He remembered calling his father.

He remembered his father scolding him like he was a little child and demanding for him to come home immediately.

He said he would.

And he remembered Halea, calling him afterwards, worried because of the way his voice sounded when he had talked to his father.

“Oh Talon, I’m so sorry. What are you gonna do now?”

“Leave.”

He didn’t say come home, because it didn’t feel right.

“You heard father, he wants me to come back and will send someone else to do the deal.”

“And you want to just let that happen?”

“No. No, I don’t. But I have no idea how to get Mr. Ashwood to change his mind and build his project somewhere else.”

“And Aiden? You said you’re in love with him. You can’t just give up like that. It will only make you unhappy.”

“Aiden doesn’t want to see me anymore. I’m not gonna mess up his life even more by staying.”

Halea didn’t seem persuaded.

And if Talon was quite honest to himself, neither was he.

He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to fix this thing with Aiden.

If he didn’t want him back, if he couldn’t have him, Talon at least wanted to help him.

He would’ve bought the farm grounds himself if it wasn’t for Mr. Ashwood, if only it meant Aiden and his family could stay there.

It’s not like he couldn’t afford that, technically, he still had the money Kieran inherited him and that wasn’t a small amount.

But he knew how unrealistically high the guy’s offer was, more than the grounds were worth, if he was quite honest.

He’d have to get him out of the way to even have a chance.

But how?

Maybe he would find a way to do it when he was back home, his father wouldn’t send another one of his workers until at least January.

He at least had to try, that’s what he owed Aiden.

He missed him.

He missed him so much, even though it’s only been a day.

It was nice outside, fresh snow had fallen over night and the view from his window looked like the picture on a Christmas postcard.

But it all had lost its magic to Talon.

Seeing all that snow only suffocated him now and he turned away, facing the room instead.

It was a mess.

His coat still lay on the floor by the door, where Talon had left it. His bed was unmade, his open suitcase lay on top of it, his stuff strewn around the room.

He sighed, starting to collect the clothes that were lying around.

His car would be ready soon (he had to bring it to the mechanic because it stood around unmoved for so long it had not one but two flat tires. Talon found that quite symbolic and fitting to the overall situation of his life) and he had already told Greta that he’d leave earlier than planned, so once he had packed it was time to go.

He didn’t want to leave, really, he didn’t.

His heart was revolting against his mind, against the rational part of Talon, who said that staying had no use.

Whatever it was he had with Aiden was over now, Aiden didn’t want him in his life anymore.

And he didn’t manage to fulfill his initial goal in this town anyway (not that he’d ever wanted to do it ever since he got to know the people here).

So it was only logical to leave.

And Talon was nothing if not logical.

Even if it hurt.

His view fell on something inside of the suitcase.

The green sweater with the red and white nordic pattern was neatly folded and tucked away safely in a corner.

Talon couldn’t tell why he brought uncle Kieran’s sweater here with him in the first place.

He hadn’t worn it in years, had almost forgotten about it over the time.

When he had packed for his trip and noticed the sweater in the very corner of his wardrobe, he had put it in his suitcase without thinking about it much.

And now there it was. Reminding Talon of the comfort it always used to bring him, years ago.

After hesitating for only a moment, he grabbed the sweater and unwrapped the book he had wrapped inside of it, carefully placing it on the bed.

He pulled the shirt he currently wore over his head and put on his uncle’s sweater instead.

With a mixture of shock and awe did he notice that he had grown into it. It always used to be too big on him, the sleeves almost reaching his fingertips, but not anymore.

His mother used to say how similar Talon looked to his uncle. Looking in the mirror now, he could see it, too.

The book he had put to the side slipped from the bed, landing on the ground with a loud thud that made Talon wince.

He bend down to put it away, when he noticed that something had fallen out of it.

Talon picked it up, examining it. It was a postcard.

There was a Christmas motif on it of a Santa carrying a Christmas tree before the background of a snowy forest.

A little corny, but still pretty.

Talon stood abruptly.

Not just because the Santa in this postcard looked awfully familiar (he dismissed this one as imagination) but because he registered what he was holding there.

This was the Christmas postcard he got from his uncle, the one he gifted him on their very last Christmas together. The one he never had the heart to read.

He almost dropped the postcard, so fast did he turn it around.

On the back, written in his uncle's neat handwriting, stood his usual Christmas greeting and under it the message he had left Talon, his last words of advice for him.

Always follow your heart.

Tears gathered in his eyes again. Talon was surprised he still had any left.

He ran a hand over the words of his uncle. They sounded just like him. It made Talon smile.

His eyes locked on the red scarf that lay next to his suitcase, carefully folded together.

He hadn’t been sure if he should keep it or let Greta give it back to Aiden.

So it lay next to his suitcase all day, untouched.

Waiting.

On top of it rested the little reindeer figure Aiden had gifted him, gently bedded on the soft red fabric of the scarf.

Talon couldn’t help but stare at it, a thousand thoughts running through his heads.

Thoughts of Aiden, of their time together.

“You said you’re in love with him. You can’t just give up like that.”

“The frost can only make us shiver if we let it in.”

“Always follow your heart.”

Stay. His heart screamed. Fight.

Stay. Stay. Stay.

He carefully put the postcard down and reached for the reindeer figure instead, gently swiping a finger over the little piece of art.

If he’d leave now, he’d never be able to look at it again.

It reminded him of Aiden in so many ways.

Like that time when they saw an actual reindeer at the…

Talon’s thoughts came to a halt abruptly.

The reindeers. Of course. How didn’t he realize sooner?

“A wild reindeer,” Aiden had told him back then. “A bunch of them live here on our property.”

It may not have been birds, but still… this was worth a try.

Maybe, maybe it could work.

This way he could at least help Aiden’s family.

Clutching the reindeer figure in his one hand, he grabbed for his phone with the other, dialing the number of his best friend.

“Halea, I need you to help me…”

[sphylor]

idk weird rambly raindrop stuff that probably only makes sense to me beneath the cut (or on ao3) i am so so tired

Dew didn’t hear the voice that called him at first. He didn’t know how he had managed to ignore it once he noticed it. It was as gentle as the sound of rain, softly tapping against his brain, letting him know it was there when he was ready to listen. It felt familiar, comforting even. But still, he was apprehensive. He wondered if he was prepared enough to walk out into the rain. Should he find the welly boots Mountain had given to him after he was summoned? He hadn’t had much reason to use them before. He used to walk outside barefoot in the summer downpours, trailing muddy footprints back through the abbey when the clouds cleared and always being met with Sister Imperator holding a mop and a stern look. Or maybe he needed to wear a raincoat. Dew thought he saw one in Aether’s closet one time and he was sure the quintessence ghoul wouldn’t mind him borrowing it. Then again, he had never needed a raincoat before either. The feel of raindrops against his bare skin was his favourite feeling. Used to be his favourite feeling, at least… What if it didn’t feel the same now? 

Dew was… well he wasn’t scared, of course, but his confidence withered when he looked out of his window and saw the storm clouds gathering on the horizon. When the first rumble of thunder sounded through the air, the dread inside of him rumbled back in response. Like it was laughing at him. Something else bubbled up in his chest in response to this mockery. Anger. Or maybe determination. Probably both, Dewdrop decided as he wrenched open his closet doors and reached to the back for the blue welly boots. They fit his feet well, though they rubbed his heels a bit at the back as he walked to Aether’s room. 

“Dew? Satanas, you’re out of your room!” Aether leapt up from his bed when the fire ghoul entered. “How are you feeling? Wait, what are you doi-” Dew had grabbed the raincoat and left the room before Aether had even had a chance to finish what he was saying. He felt bad for ignoring his packmate but the voice in his head was growing more persistent, a gentle drizzle quickly turning into a downpour. He needed to do this now.

He sped down the halls, putting the raincoat on haphazardly along the way. He passed the common room where some of the recently summoned ghouls were watching a movie, but he knew the owner of the voice was not in there. Dew heard the thunder again and opened the door to the outside in time to see a bolt of lightning arch across the sky. The hairs on his arms raised and he felt a chill down his spine. 

By this point the voice was pooling like water in the gaps of his mind, promising to make its home there and make him whole. Now he would admit that he was scared. Scared that the voice would become so strong that he would find himself submerged in it. That he would lose himself entirely in its siren song. He stared out at the rain. He watched as it poured from the supposed heavens, pelting the earth below. He hesitated for a moment, before toeing off the welly boots and leaving them by the door. He went to go out again but decided to leave the coat behind too. Finally, he stepped outside.

His bare feet splashed in the puddles gathering on the patio. Dew didn’t remember the rainwater feeling so cold. Tentatively stepping out from under the awning, he felt the first drops of rain on his bare skin and almost wept. It felt different but it wasn’t bad. As the water ran over the freshly healed wounds on his arms from where his fins had been, it soothed the persistent ache he didn’t even know he had been feeling there. His legs shook as he took more steps but soon enough he found he was walking, and then running down the hill. He didn’t know where he was going or what he was looking for. He couldn’t see anyone else but he knew the person whose voice was now singing in his head was out there somewhere.

But of course he had to fuck it up like usual. His footing slipped on the wet grass and he fell face first to the floor. A thicker clump of grass saved his face from hitting the mud but the same couldn’t be said for the rest of his body. He lay there for a moment, the air knocked out of his lungs, and he cried. He cried for everything that he had lost, no, everything that had been taken from him. Everyone who had been taken from him. He sobbed and he screamed as the rain bore down on him. He hoped it would just wash him away. But of course he wasn’t that lucky. 

As he screamed, the voice in his head reached a deafening volume, demanding to be heard above everything else. And as Dew focused on the siren song, on the sound of the raindrops hitting the earth, he felt his own voice die down. He felt the erratic rise and fall of his chest even out and slow down and an odd calmness washed over him as he felt his thoughts get washed away. Not completely, just moved to a safe place for another time.

He lay there feeling numb for a while. Not exactly as distraught as before but also not particularly happy, either. He was content to just exist in the moment, though. The rain felt nice against his back, he thought as he breathed in the familiar smell of wet grass and petrichor. The thunder rumbled overhead but it no longer felt like a threat anymore. Maybe it was a question? Asking him if he was okay, probably. Dewdrop laughed at the question. He didn’t know the answer. With every rumble of thunder the question repeated in his mind.

Are you okay?

Are you okay?

”Are you okay?”

The voice in his head ceased as its owner spoke aloud. Dew wept in relief as two cold hands helped lift him to his feet. He had found him.

“Hey, shh, it's okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.” the ghoul pulled him in closer as Dew’s sobs picked up again. “I’ll never let you go.” Dew didn’t say anything. He fisted his hands into the front of the ghoul’s jacket, clinging on as tightly as possible. He had his water back. His Rain.

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

First Dates (Luke, Marius, Artem, Vyn)

Cw: Fluff

NXX boys x Fem! Reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Luke

Luke’s style seems to gravitate towards stuff like them park dates and county fair dates, so that’s what he does for your first

He picks you up early on a Saturday morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed. You're almost annoyed because no one should be so perky before 10 am in the morning. And he doesn’t need coffee rude

The two of you stop for a quick breakfast before descending on the theme park

After that you run through the usual culprits: twirly rides, house of mirrors, a couple roller coasters (before lunch, not after), pretending to be scared at the haunted house rides

he shows off his aim at some of the game booths winning you exactly what you want

You even manage to convince him to do face painting with you

In all honesty, it feels like being kids again. Except kids don’t hold hands and find secluded areas to make out

In the evening you find a nice little hill--scratch that, the two of you are definitely sitting next to each other on the Farris wheel while you watch the fireworks

Marius

A date with Marius is upscale. You definitely need a fancy dress which he has no problems paying for

It comes in two parts

First he takes you to an art gallery. One he totally rented out for the night

You’re more than happy to watch him smile and talk about his art. He always lights up and sometimes loses that mask of the rich little shit and it is a treat

You spend several hours there, but he’s mindful of your comfort. Heels are a bitch to walk in for long periods of time. 

When you’re ready to leave, Marius takes you to a super fancy restaurant. You went a little pale when you saw where you were going, then reminded you that Marius has the money to volunteer to give you ridiculously expensive dogs. A private reservation overlooking a quiet park is no biggie for Mr. Acting President von Hagen.  

All in all, it’s very nice. You can’t get out of being the object of his teasing and no matter how fancy the joint, he still gets full named. 

Artem

A first date with Artem is classic. Dinner and a movie. 

The two of you ended up going back and forth about who picked the movie and diner, eventually settling on you picking the movie while he picked the diner.

You did your research and picked something that would appeal to both of you. A reshowing of a timeless chick flick: The Titanic (Is the Titanic a classic in 2030?)

Artem makes sure he has plenty of tissues he knows you’re prone to crying at the end

Afterwards, you two have an in depth debate over whether Jack and Rose would have both fit on the door. He tells you that if that ever happens, he’ll make sure both of you survive. 

For diner Artem takes you to a nice Mom-and-Pop restaurant. It turns out he’s been going there since he was a kid and the proprietors are really happy to see that “Artie finally found himself a nice girl. It’s about time.”

Despite their gentle teasing, the food there really is some of the best you’ve ever had

Of course, Artem drives you home himself and walks you to the door

Vyn

And last, but never least Vyn “here are my red flags” Richter

On the scale of fancy to classic to casual, Vyn ends up bringing you on a date that rates somewhere between fancy and classic. It’s classy, it’s upscale, but it’s not oozing “I run a conglomerate” either

He takes you to see a ballet or an Opera. Swan lake, maybe, Something refined, much like your date

Of course, you have very good seats. Vyn wouldn’t have anything else.

After the show, you go to a quiet, but upscale restaurant. It’s one well known for it’s wine, which the guy is an absolute stickler for. 

Vyn is a complete gentleman the entire time. Really, he always is. Treating you with nothing but the utmost respect, despite his concerning manipulative tendencies and you enjoy seeing a glimpse of what Vyn is like when you’re not calling him Dr. Richter.

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

🧚‍♀️ Anon

Slasher Anasui would be so delicious

He would pull a Micheal Myers, only to escape and stalk his childhood crush as she babysits (He intends to fulfill his promise he made to her when they were children)

Anasui is stalking after Darling not to kill her but to make her become his Bride (However everyone else is fair game)

I love the Halloween Movies (I sadly don’t have access to all of them only the 1st and 2nd movie)

Ooooh OK ok. This is interesting.

So I think that they were initially split up after he (around middle school age) got into a fight that involved darling and her parents seperated them (Transfered her to another school or got the school to stop them from being in the same classes).

Years later there was an another incident that led to him attacking and killing someone darling knew (either a partner or who he believed was) causing him to get incarcerated. Somehow the defense lawyers were able to get an insanity plea and so he got sent to a mental institution.

However just as he was getting dragged out he passes darling. (Who had been standing as a witness against him)

"Nothing will ever stop me from loving you and I'm going to kill whoever it takes to get you back" he'd snarl before the police would push him away.

He was serving 20 years at least, more then enough time for darling to relocate by the time of his release. However 3 years later he manages to break out and kills a couple to take their clothes and car. He's able to spend some time around the town figuring out where she is before the news gets out.

Darling only hears of this after she tucks the kid she was babysitting in bed. Immediately she's calling the parents asking them if there is a family member or friend she can drop them off at as well as calling her parents so they know, because darling knows exactly what Anasui wants. (Unfortunately she doesn't know that he's already a lot closer then she could imagine)

After darling drops off the kid she finds that a car has parked across the driveway, basically trapping it in. She storms up to the car to confront the asshole who parked behind her. She knows they're still in since their headlights are on.

"Seriously! I have somewhere to be you jackass!" She yells as she pounds on the door.

"Oh you've gotta go somewhere, but we've got more important things to sort out" a familiar voice coos as the tinted window rolls down, revealing himself to her.

Darling immediately runs to front door, begging to be let in and they do before locking it. They call the police but Anasui breaks down the wooden door (or the glass panels allowing him to unlock it from the outside). The husband tried to fight him but he easily breaks a limb before grabbing one of the kitchen knives. The wife drops the phone before she's able to finish the call and he destroys it.

"I told you... nothing is going to stop me" he seethes

"And anyone who gets in our way will die" he continues as he snatches darlings hand and drags her outside. He's caught the attention of one of the neighbors who tries to intervene but is immediately stabbed by Anasui with little thought.

All that time he's been waiting to get her back is what is driving his murderous intent. Darling either cooperate with him and keep casualties to a minimum or if she tries to runaway he's just going to keep mowing down as many people that throw themselves infront of her.

[beautifulhigh]

Wanna get angry on this Saturday? Cool. Come join me on this.

I think Miguel hacked Alex's emails way before the leak.

Alex wouldn't be able to just "drop by" somewhere for coffee. It would have to be cleared, vetted, all the usual stuff. So he will have a routine that he follows, a routine which includes (at least) one Secret Service member. And when you have a routine and protection like that, schedules will be sent out confirming who is with Alex and what the plan is for the day. Sent out by email. And OH LOOK he's in the coffee shop...

Alex tells Zahra that he "emailed senior campaign staff" three weeks ago with his Texas memo. A memo that Miguel has read by the State DInner. He says he "quite literally has his sources" and... well.

The email leak. Miguel has his article written and published within hours of them being put on Reddit and he is called out on how quick that is.

So when did Miguel hack Alex's email?

"We made out once, on the campaign..."

Ellen Claremont was on the verge of making history (huh). The first female president, in a mixed race marriage with a biracial, bilingual son. The Lometa Longshot going all the way to the White House. Getting the inside track on that would have been one hell of a scoop and when you have her son, desperate to do more, be more in this world, then that's an in you can manage. Get some details about the campaign, how things are going. But also finding out about the people behind it - film!Oscar and his own political campaigns. Alex, the up and coming law student.

Little flirting, little making out "fully naked, in a hot tub"... You gotta wonder where Alex's phone was at that time and whether Miguel got his hands on it.

From day one, the central mission of POLITICO has been to help sustain and vastly expand nonpartisan political and policy journalism by winning the audience. (From Politco's "About" page)

Alex talks about how he's good for "photo ops and New Year's parties and stupid shit like that" and so there is an interest in Alex, the First Son. He's good looking - the party is filled with the "who's who of eligible young women" and we know from Henry's first text that he attends events with a plus one. And Miguel has a line into that, to win the audience for Politico with updates about Alex doing more, being more, working as part of his mother's campaign.

So yeah. I think Miguel got access to Alex's emails back on the first campaign trial which makes it all the more horrible as he watched those emails come through in real time. He knew what was going on when he was in New York, making comments about them being in the same hotel.

"Do you really think we're ever hooking up again?" "Well I don't anymore"

is his reply in a lovely bit of equivocation because Alex is clearly shutting him down this time... but maybe he also knows about Henry. The Henry who walks in through the door moments later. Miguel knows he won't be hooking up with Alex because someone else is, and maybe the comment was a way to test the water. Would Alex turn him down and say or suggest he was seeing someone?

In the book more emails are exchanged following the storming of Kensington: there is no clear timeline in the movie: Labor Day is at the start of September (Lake House), it's a week before Alex flies to London (so mid-September), and the election is at the start of November. They are outed the week before polling (Zahra says "we'll find out next week" following Alex's speech) which makes it around mid to end of October when they're outed. That's about one month in which they would have been in touch, likely through emails, fully committed to this relationship and making it work.

Dropping the bomb before the election is one way to get traction because all eyes are on the White House at that time. Plus a month to pull off the emails, to get them sorted, make a plan for Reddit, start working on your article...? Taking each new message as it comes in?

Miguel hacked Alex's emails WAY before the leak and I'm pretty sure I'm willing to die on this hill.

[everygame]

Thank Goodness You’re Here!

Developed/Published by: Coal Supper / Panic Released: 1/08/2024 Completed: 7/08/2024 Completion: Finished it!

It seems contrarian for me to open this by saying this is definitely the best game of 2024 and it’s definitely going to be my favourite game of the year… but it’s true.

The thing, I suppose, that makes that kind of wild, declarative statement seem so difficult to declare is that… games are just so broad, aren’t they? Playing something like Thank Goodness You’re Here! is so unbelievably different from playing, say, my favourite game of last year, Hi-Fi Rush, that it doesn’t feel as easy to say as declaring one movie “the best film of the year.” I mean in that case, you still just sit there and watch a movie. There’s not quite the same… granularity of experience. I mean even if you were talking indie games, Balatro touches such a different part of my brain from Thank Goodness You’re Here! So how could I ever, really, compare them?

Well, you know what? Sometimes you gotta just stick your flag somewhere, and my flag goes in the top of a Yorkshire pudding, and when it unfurls it’s the flag… of Yorkshire. Which surprised me, because I’m Scottish, so normally it goes in the top of a Scotch pie, and it’s a Saltire, so I guess I really like Thank Goodness You’re Here!

To describe it, though, which is what you’ve paid for, Thank Goodness You’re Here is a non-evil Untitled Goose Game. You play, in some respects similarly, an agent of chaos in a small town: a tiny man with… jaundice(?) who has been sent to the town of Barnsworth to help the mayor, but end up in the tangle of everyone’s lives. You help them do things that sound explicitly rather simple like mowing a lawn to buying some soup… but it’s not simple at all.

Unlike Untitled Goose Game, your tiny man isn’t just a wee dick; you’re actually helping people, it just happens to be in a very anarchic fashion. You rise to the level of the town, rather than lowering it, so outside of a few smacky bum-bums, you never feel like you’re bullying anyone… well maybe that guy with the chimney. But the joke works.

It would be regressive to describe this game as “weird” or “crazy.” What it is, and what makes it so brilliant, is that it’s so British. If you love the era of British comedy that brought us things like Look Around You or Alan Partridge, you’ll feel right at home here, and I was genuinely laughing all the way through this. Mileage may vary: some jokes and sequences are unbelievably puerile, some are a little smutty; some are… disturbing, but there’s a joyful nature to this whole thing, and it’s all so rapid fire that if something falls flat, it’s not long before you’re laughing about something else.

I think also that the game has a near-perfect take on interactivity for this kind of story-based experience. Outside of special sequences basically all you can do is slap things or jump, but everything is reactive, and the level design is cleverly focused; your path through the game is a sequence of designed loops that you can’t deviate from, but as a result you don’t suffer from the kind of downtime you can struggle with in more open adventures and which can ruin immersion. 

Here you’ll never return to an area and discover it static, how you left it, and have to waffle around trying to find X or Y; you’re always moving forward onto Z. I can hear the criticisms, but at least for me this never felt restrictive; the only issue I really had was feeling that I had to put the game down regularly lest I finish it too quickly–though it’s surprisingly lengthy for something featuring so much bespoke art and sequences, at almost five hours.

To be honest, the game manages something that I wish designers of interactive experiences–think your Meow Wolfs, your Sleep No Mores–would learn from, which is how to always be guiding your player forward through a space and yet still allow them to experience it at their own pace. Sure, it has the benefit of being able to lock doors behind you, and there aren’t 300 other tiny men with jaundice trying to do everything in it at the same time (though I’d love to see that?) but I couldn’t help but be impressed with the flow.

(This may relate to me seeing Sleep No More before it closes just before playing this, finding it a hard to navigate mess of meaningless rooms in a warehouse and thinking it was fucking rubbish.)

The reason, really, that this is my game of the year already is that it’s trying to do something specific and it’s doing it as unbelievably fucking well as anyone probably could. Your dexterity won’t be challenged, your brain won’t be taxed, but they don’t need to be. Sure it’s a funhouse mirror, but if someone was to ask me “What’s the UK like?” from now on, I’ll probably just say “Play Thank Goodness You’re Here!”

Will I ever play it again? Absolutely. Not for a long time, I think, but I didn’t technically see “everything” according to the achievements, and I’d like to.

Final Thought: For categorisation sake, I would like to mention that I do think that Thank Goodness You’re Here! is largely specifically English, and Northern English at that, but there are enough commonalities and it features a big role for Davey Swatpaz that I think it’s fair to think of it as extremely British anyway. And speaking of the excellent casting, Matt Berry is in this and as always he’s brilliant. There are few games where I’d say “I really hope you run out and buy this” but there are few things that are such polished diamonds, and even though this was funded by Panic, who apparently have enough money that they can piss it up on a wall on the world’s most niche handheld (hey, I still bought it) smaller games are having such a rough time of it that when they’re good we should really, you know, reward that. Don’t just do it for me; do it for Tiny Tom. Or Big Ron.*

*pie size preference depending.

Support Every Game I’ve Finished on ko-fi! You can pick up digital copies of exp., a zine featuring all-exclusive writing at my shop, or join as a supporter at just $1 a month and get articles like this a week early.

[indiana-jonas]

The two invisible steps before you make something

When I made comic strips in the past I would often jump straight into drawing the first panel. I’d just wing it and then improvise each following panel. Sometimes it worked out.

An improvised strip from my old series “Us with plants on our heads.”

But often it just turned into nonsensical crap.

I don’t get this one myself.

I often started drawing a strip and gave up cause I didn’t know what to do.

I thought I was supposed to be able to fart out great comics with ease. But I squeezed and squeezed. I was too eager. Without being aware of it, I tried to do 3 steps all at once. To continue this (f)art metaphor - before anything comes out of you, you’ve gotta 1. find something you want to eat, 2. digest it, 3. let it come out. The problem was that I hadn’t eaten or digested anything.

To put it in a more dignified way.

The first step is to search,

the second is to make sense of,

the third is to make it.

I used to skip the first two steps, I wanted to get straight into making shit. But that often turned into nonsensical crap, or I would run into a wall and give up.

The third step (to make it) is the most obvious one. Despite it being the most obvious step, I got completely stuck on it because I hadn’t gone through the first two.

If you are reading this, it’s likely you already know how to make something. I think these first two steps are identical no matter what medium you are creating in. So I will take the liberty of not going into detail about how to make something.

Instead of trying to think of products first, what any creative person should try to do is think, search and wonder. Think about real things, notice what makes you feel stuff - what is close to your heart if everything else is stripped away? Ideally projects will emerge from the collection of the thoughts you have collected, or at least be designed/conceived in a way that can package your thoughts as nicely as possible.

Search

There’s nothing quite as uninspiring as a blank canvas. 85% of the time a blank canvas only makes me feel dread or boredom. If you come up with a great idea while looking at a canvas it’s not because you looked at a canvas, it’s despite looking at it. Whatever great ideas I have managed to conjure while looking at that white rectangle has always come from something else - an inspiring movie scene, something from my day, a lingering thought, or a line from a song.

Now I’ve abandoned blank canvases, I never start from one. Neither when I write or draw.

Instead, I live in search of noteworthy thoughts. Regardless of whether you know what a thought will be useful for, jot them down somewhere.

To search is just to live life with a keen eye, ear and heart and to make sure you don’t forget.

When I stare at a blank canvas The Search becomes stressful and I want to avoid it. But in reality, if I admit that The Search is part of the process, it becomes the most peaceful and interesting step of them all. It’s just living with a secret mission - to be human and to find out what’s special about that to you.

And of course you need to make sure you don’t forget those thoughts for the next step.

Make sense of

Now that you’ve been out in the world and discovered stuff, it’s time to sit down somewhere, sift through and examine your haul. You might be overwhelmed by how much is in there. You’ll never be able to use everything. So you just gotta use your intuition. See what stands out, group things, talk with someone - do ANYTHING you want with it until you find what’s hiding there.

Your notes are a collection of countless puzzles. Some puzzles are hundreds of pieces big, others are just one or three. Some pieces fit into more than one puzzle. You don’t know. Often you’ll have to find a few pieces in your head to complete a puzzle, while other pieces might still be hidden out there in the world.

The way to make sense of a puzzle is to try to put it together, or to be literal; try to explain it as clearly as you can. Ask yourself, “how can I prove to someone else that this is true?” And ideally not just make them understand it, but also feel it. That’s the puzzle you gotta solve.

Let me give you an example.

I found myself frustrated that we live life too much through screens and I want to make a Space Deer comic strip. That’s the idea I want to make sense of and the filter that I will examine my idea through.

First I will ask myself, “ok, why is that idea true?”- I think life needs balance, you shouldn’t stare too much of it away through a pixelated representation of it. Then I ask myself, “how should we live then?”- We should go outside and get our boots in the mud more, what we will really remember is probably gonna happen out there. And then I try to think of a situation where I can show as clearly as possible that this is right. I’m afraid this message might be tired or preachy, especially if I would aim the message directly at someone like us (you know, someone who’s currently looking at a screen). Luckily the imagery of my comic gives me other symbols to play with.

So I thought of how I could show that in four comic panels and wrote down this.

Space Deer walks on a desolate planet. They encounter a mars rover. They scream “get out here and live!!” NASA people see Space Deer through their screens.

It’s simple, but it gets the idea across. Normally I would like to make it clear that Space Deer is really out there and living freely, to show what these researches are missing out on. But in the comic we will see Space Deer explore and go on all kinds of adventures, so that’s something I didn’t feel like I needed to put more emphasis on. I trust the reader to make that connection themself.

Sometimes making sense of an idea can be much harder, in this example the idea was an entire puzzle on its own, or maybe I had the remaining pieces in my head already. Sometimes all you need is just one piece in front of you to know where to look for the rest.

Make it

And then of course the last step is to just make it. (Step 4 is to share it. Step 5 is to repeat it.)

I have made decent comic strips despite jumping straight into drawing, or so I’ve thought. Thinking back on it, I just managed to search and make sense of an idea as I was drawing. I didn’t magically skip two steps, that’s impossible. I was just not aware of what I was doing.

Now that I know the steps, I’m much better at understanding why I tend to get stuck in different parts of the process.

In reality these steps are not always as clear cut. They will blend into each other, you might do some back and forth, making sense of and making something is a fuzzy line. This is not so much a step-by-step process as it is a journey you have to go through. It has definitely helped me to be more methodical and intentional about it though. I’ve set myself up in a way where it’s fun for me to get each step done. I might go into that in the future.

If you only take one thing with you from this - I hope it’s that you will be aware of and feel more at peace with the first two steps.

--------

If you found this interesting then you might enjoy these blog posts too.

When you don't know what to draw

I will never find my art style

Lazy imagination isn't bad

Thank you for reading my thoughts!

[gatitties]

Straw hats x speedy male reader during the marine ford arc where y/n literally ran out of his way in the ocean using all of his speed despite struggling through the rough waves manages to arrive just in time the middle of the war between the white beards and the admirals since obviously he just can't stand there and do nothing and since the place he got teleported to had nothing to offer and he had to find the others too (yeah sorry If I didn't add much on how it would go tho maybe we could have a moment where he crashes onto the ship so hard that the ship was literally shaking?)

I'm just gonna left this right here since I was suggesting an idea if you could write male reader where he awakened his speed devil fruit and now he has the ability to control the wind using his speed and being able to travel somewhere faraway using teleportation which takes a lot of speed and stamina to do it

(think of it as like a mixture between toothless in HTTYD2 and movie sonic during the baseball scene where they kept on running at full speed as the electricity begins to surround their bodies until they released it, creating a huge shockwave)

(this is something they forgot to put in the request)

—Strawhats x male!reader

—Summary: You seem to awaken some powers that you did not know and you try to help as much as possible but time plays against you

—Warnings: none

─ You separated from the Strawhats in Sabaody like everyone else, the thing was that you ended up on a completely remote island, only a few people lived there.

─ In your desperation to return to your companions you ate a devil fruit that according to the locals could 'teleport' you to other islands.

─ It took you at least a day to think about what you were going to do, and you thought that the villagers had tricked you because you didn't feel any power after devouring it.

─ It was maybe a few hours before the whole battle in Marineford broke out that you noticed some changes in your body, or rather on the outside, they all seemed to go in slow motion while you moved.

─ It was hard for you to come to the conclusion that the teleportation they were talking about was nothing more than supersonic speed, barely having been able to experience the use of powers and with complete inexperience you jumped fearlessly into the sea.

─ You thought you would die trying to run through the water, however when you noticed that your steps were lighter due to the speed you gained enough confidence to run more.

─ Nothing could stop your feet at this point, neither waves nor giant doors, although that was the problem, you didn't know how to stop your run so abruptly, you entered the battle overwhelming many soldiers without even wanting to.

─ You couldn't stop until you flipped a couple of times and crashed into a big ship, shaking the ground in such a way that some people staggered and fell.

─ Luffy was happy to find you there, although fate was already sealed, you tried to help as much as possible, but the exhaustion of getting to Marineford and the little experience with your powers were not the best help.

─ Events did not change and unfortunately neither Ace nor Whitebeard came out of that war alive, but at least you could be there with Luffy after all that.

─ As for the next two years, you dedicated yourself to honing your powers, improving your stamina, improving your speed, you used your 'teleportation' to visit others, although everyone wanted to keep their personal training a secret, you were their confidant.

─ Chopper was so scared to see you there, he gave you a revision and recommended activities so you don't wear yourself out with your new abilities.

─ Nami used you as a guinea pig to create air currents or move clouds.

─ You didn't visit Zoro much because Mihawk looked at you badly the times you went, he's just resentful because you accidentally knocked him down in Marineford.

─ Usopp was glad to share his little inventions and crops to someone, proud boy showing you everything he has improved.

─ Sanji will cry for you to take him to another island, but you just can't interfere with his training (it's a canon event).

─ Franky will ask you to bring him cola because there isn't much around there and Brook will give you a VIP pass to his concerts, he will also ask you to do some kind of show with your speed for his shows.

─ Robin will be glad to see that you're okay, surely she was the one who helped you the most to understand your powers and trained you with the revolutionaries, you needed to get stronger so that things like the Marineford incident doesn't happen again.