#but hey you gotta contribute somehow

[fireflowersims]

DO NOT USE TEMPLATES TO MAIL YOUR REPRESENTATIVES!

So in case you want to use some sort of template to mail your representatives about the ongoig genocide in Gaza, don't!

To be clear: if you're planning on mailing your representatives about Gaza, DO IT! But DO NOT use a template!

Mail filters are easy to set up and deploy and WILL filter on specific sentences or patterns using regular expressions. If a mail server receives thousands of nearly-identical mails, chances are either the machine employs some sort of machine learning and it'll mark it as spam and disregard them immediately and/or some engineer will type up some extra filters to prevent more mails from coming through and cluttering up inboxes. Make no mistake: this is not hard to do and can be done within minutes.

If you want to get through mail filters, write it yourself. Do not erase typos, do not base your words on templates, but get personal. Do not let your voice get lumped in with spam runs!

Kind regards,

- Someone who has to deal with e-mail filters on a regular basis

More details in reblog

[askthestans]

Hey Stan, can you tell us stories about your brother Sherman being a total square?

Stan and Ford: At the same time. You mean Square-mie?

Both of them laugh, not in a harsh way, but the kind of lighthearted chuckles that usually come from one sibling teasing another. It's obvious they love their older brother, but... like most siblings, they'll always jump on a chance to make fun of one another.

Stan: Oh, he always hated that nickname! Look, Anon, lemme first introduce ya to the official scale of Pines fun-ness. At the top, there's me, for obvious reasons. Second best is Mabel, also for obvious reasons. And... He pauses, putting his hand to his chin. Damn, I gotta say, I think Ford's next-

Ford: I am as much of an adventurer as I am a scientist.

Stan: Yeah, definitely Ford, despite his dorkiness and obsession with... He gestures at Ford's honors and trophies for grades and intelligence related successes from childhood. That garbage. Good grades and other crap. And then-

Ford: Definitely our nephew, Dipper and Mabel's father. Works in IT, very smart, has a little bit more of Mabel's fun-loving nature. But far less adventurous than you or I. You and I could never live a boring suburban life like he does.

Stan: Grinning. Then, near the very bottom, you've got Dipper. No offense to the kid, but he's Ford's smarts but minus Ford's rebel streak. Walkin' wet blanket at times, always askin' how many laws we're breakin' while we're out havin' fun... although me and Ford are teachin' 'im to grow past it, as much as his parents will let us corrupt 'im. But he at least likes to have fun, I'll give 'im that. So that leaves us at-

Ford: Way at the very bottom of the Pines fun-ness scale, you have... Square-mie. He coughs. Shermie, sorry.

Both men howl with snorts and laughter again, barely able to explain why.

Stan: Wiping a tear from his eye, wheezing a bit. Okay, okay, Anon, picture this: take Dipper and his dad's wet blanket crap and crank it up to 1000. This guy? Our brother? Good ol' Saint Sherm? Guy's never even had a parking ticket his entire life! He won't even jaywalk! He never goes even one mile per hour above the speed limit! He's like the human equivalent of white bread. Of unflavored oatmeal. Got average grades, got a boring old suburban house with a literal white picket fence, had an average job-

Ford: Shudders. I have no idea how he worked as an IRS accountant for decades.

Stan: Ugh, don't remind me. He's always barkin' at me. "Stan, you pay your taxes yet this year?" this. "Stan, you need to contribute to your civic duty.", that. Cripes, ol' Sherm is like the anti-Pines. A Pines is supposed to laugh in the face of rules and authority. This guy huffs whatever authority's smokin' like he's part of a cult. Even when we were kids, he'd always do chores even when he wasn't asked. Kept his room clean as a whistle. Barked at me to do my homework and foiled our pranks when he could. Pure goody two shoes, so much he'd make an angel blush. I think all of our Ma's rebellion genes went to us, and Pa's strictness went to Sherm.

Ford: Yes, so after I returned and we explained to him what had happened, he...

Both men fall into a snicker fest again, unsure who will stop laughing first long enough to tell the story.

Stan: Holy mackerel, he... he... Snort. Picture Dipper at, like, seventy years old, but with an even bigger stick up his ass and even less muscles somehow. Gets told this long, convoluted as hell tale about me fakin' my death and pretendin' to be Ford for three decades, Ford gettin' lost in sci-fi sideburn land for just as long, the world almost ending with Sherm's grandkids along for the ride... just mind bendin' stuff... and the first words outta his mouth... and for reference, this guy never swears, and he never has thrown a punch at anyone... he's so square he's a cube! But he just says...

He wheezes, so Ford has to finish the story.

Ford: Snort. He raises his voice a bit, likely to mimic Shermie's. "I just knew I shoulda kicked your asses more when we were kids."

The two howl and cackle with laughter, leaning on each other for support.

Stan: And then he just... walked away, out his door, down the street to the gas station, bought beer for the - and I'm not kidding - the first time in his life, and sat back down in his old man chair and faced us as we just stood there, gobsmacked, while he cracked one open and drank it with an expression like a man betrayed. And he said-

Ford: "You two knuckleheads are lucky I'm even older than you, 'cause if I wasn't, I'd plant my loafer up your ass! You're gonna sit down, shut up, and let me drink this crap while I process whatever the f*ck I just heard and how many goddamn taxes you owe. And then maybe I'll think about huggin' your sorry asses."

More laughing.

Stan: I'm not sure if he was more mad about the taxes, or the fact that I'd faked my death all those years ago, or... the world ending part where Dipper and Mabes coulda been hurt... or maybe because we drove him to drink and swear and threaten someone for the first time in his whole goddamn life, all in the same day, he... Chuckles. He never really said. All I know is, is I don't think I've ever had my jaw that close to the floor in my life.

Ford: Honestly, I think we just kind of... broke him. Even still, I think he blew our minds more than we blew his.

Stan: He laughs a bit more, then shakes his head. Pfft, can you imagine Sherm kickin' our asses, anyway? He'd probably gently nudge one of our shins and give up. He's too nice for anything worse. That's the thing with our brother: he may be boring as sin, but... he's a good guy.

Ford: He always protected us from bullies when we were kids. Carried us home whenever we sprained an ankle or broke a bone.

Stan: And bought us ice cream whenever we asked, and fixed our bikes, and patched us up, scared the "monsters" outta our closet, and taught us most of what we know. Kind of like a second Dad, honestly, and one a lot less grumpy. A bit more somber. And he helped our parents out in their old age when we weren't around, until the... well, you know. 'Til the end.

Ford: His smile fades, then he sighs, expression a bit bittersweet. And he did actually hug us.

Stan: He scratches the back of his head, a bit embarrassed, but smiling fondly. For three hours straight.

[snowwybear]

Mother Goose | chapter three

Summary: all you can do love despite the world filled with hate. For 3 years you have been dating your loving boyfriend Joel Miller, while also being a motherly figure to his teenage daughter Sarah. The two of you get separated the day of the outbreak never to see each other again. 20 years later the two of reunite.

➀|➁

Warnings: spoilers for the hbo show and video game, fluff, mentions of injuries

~2034~

"Hold still," you say, your voice firm as you press the cloth soaked in alcohol against Tommy's side. The sharp scent fills the air, mixing with the stale smell of sweat and blood.

"Ow!" Tommy flinches, his face scrunching up in pain. "Watch it, will ya? I’m not made of steel, you know."

You roll your eyes, continuing to clean the wound. "How many times have I told you—"

"Not to go down that trail, I know, I know," Tommy interrupts, raising his hands in mock surrender, though his grin never falters. "But what can I say? I got a knack for bad decisions."

"You’ve got a knack for reckless decisions," you mutter, pressing the cloth harder against the gash on his arm, earning a hiss from him.

"Hey!" Tommy flinches, trying to pull away, but you hold him steady, your grip firm. "I’m already bleedin’ here. Don’t gotta add insult to injury."

"Maybe if you listened for once, you wouldn’t be bleeding at all." When the outbreak happened, you ran blindly, fuelled by adrenaline and terror, desperate to get as far away from the infected as possible. It wasn’t just fear that drove you—it was survival.

For days—maybe even weeks—you searched, clinging to the fragile hope that you could find them again, that somehow, against all odds, you could reunite with your family. But as the world crumbled around you, as cities fell and society devolved into chaos, that hope began to dwindle. You wandered through broken cities, dodging infected and ruthless survivors alike, the weight of uncertainty gnawing at you every day. Eventually, the hope of finding your family faded into a dull ache—a distant dream you barely allowed yourself to think about. The days turned into years, and survival became your only focus.

It wasn’t until a few years ago that Tommy Miller stumbled upon you during one of his patrols. By then, you were a shell of your former self—tired, ragged, barely holding on. You had seen too much, lost too much. But Tommy recognised you instantly. Despite the layers of dirt and exhaustion on your face, he knew you. You could hardly believe it when he said your name, his voice filled with disbelief and relief. In that moment, all the time and distance that had separated you from your past seemed to collapse. For the first time in years, you felt a spark of something you hadn’t dared to feel in a long time—hope.

Tommy didn’t hesitate. He brought you back to the community in Jackson, where you were met with kindness, shelter, and safety—things you hadn’t felt in years. You had grown so used to looking over your shoulder, waiting for the next threat, that the warmth of the community felt almost unreal. But it was real. Tommy and the others nursed you back to health, offering you food, water, and a place to stay. For the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of belonging again.

In return, you offered your skills as a nurse to the community. You tended to the sick and injured, providing medical support in a world where such knowledge had become a rare and precious commodity. It wasn’t the life you had imagined for yourself, but it was something. And more than that—it was a purpose. You were able to help, to contribute, to be part of something larger than just surviving day to day.

"There, all done." You finished patching up Tommy, securing the final bandage around his side.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," Tommy said, his voice softer than usual as his fingers lightly grazed the bandages, wincing slightly.

You nodded, wiping your hands and beginning to clean up the supplies. "Try to stay out of trouble, alright?"

Tommy chuckled, though there was a sincerity in his eyes. "I’ll try... for you."

You gave him a small smile, packing away the medical kit. "I’ll hold you to that.

-

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden hue over Jackson as you locked up the clinic. The familiar sounds of the community—children laughing, adults chatting—felt oddly comforting, a reminder of how far you’d come since the chaos of the outbreak.

You took a deep breath, savouring the crisp evening air, and turned to head home when you caught a glimpse of a familiar figure atop it, his silhouette unmistakable. Joel. The years melted away in an instant, your mind flooded with memories of the man you had thought lost to time. He looked older, lines etched on his face, but that same protective intensity radiated from him.

Beside him was a girl—Ellie. Tommy had told you that Sarah had unfortunately passed on outbreak day, but he didn't tell you about this other girl. In fact, he didn't tell you when Joel and Ellie first turned up in Jackson.

Time seemed to freeze as you locked eyes with him. All the years apart, the worry and the longing, culminated in that single moment.

“Joel,” you breathed, stepping forward, almost hesitating. You had imagined this reunion countless times, but now that it was here, you felt a rush of emotion swell within you.

His expression shifted, a mix of surprise and relief washing over his features. “You’re here,” he said, his voice low and rough, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

"Hi.." You whispered hesitant to make any moves. It has been a long, long time since you've seen Joel. You didn't even think he was still alive, but here he was standing in front of you. You didn't know what to do, how to react - do you run and jump into his arms? Or do you keep your distance? You had changed so much since you last saw each other.

You could see the tension in his shoulders ease as he took a tentative step toward you. The wind rustled the leaves overhead, and in that moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

“Is it really you?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

You nodded, swallowing hard, emotions bubbling just below the surface. “I thought- I didn't know if you were still alive. After everything…” Your voice trailed off, the memories of the chaos flooding back—fears of being alone, the uncertainty of survival, the ache of separation.

Joel took another step closer, and you noticed Ellie shifting slightly, glancing between the two of you. Her expression was curious, as if she could feel the weight of the moment but didn’t quite understand it.

“Ellie, this is—” Joel started, he paused not quite believing himself that you were standing in front of each other after so many years.

“I’m [Your Name]. It’s nice to meet you.”

Ellie offered a shy smile back, her eyes darting between you and Joel. “So, you two know each other?”

“Yeah, we go way back,” Joel replied, a softness creeping into his tone as he looked at you, momentarily ignoring the slight teasing glint in Ellie’s eyes. He stepped a little closer, the distance between you narrowing as if no years had passed at all.

Ellie tilted her head, clearly intrigued. “What do you mean ‘way back’?”

You chuckled lightly, the sound breaking the tension. Joel rolled his eyes, huffing, and sent Ellie a glare—silently telling her to mind her business.

The playfulness quickly faded into a heavy silence. It had been years since you’d been in Joel’s presence, and though the familiarity was there, the weight of time hung between you both like an invisible wall. You shifted on your feet, unsure of what to do or say.

Joel cleared his throat, his voice low and rough. “Tommy didn’t tell me you were in Jackson.”

“I didn't know you were still alive; I guess I just assumed... he didn't tell me you were here.” You rambled, trying to make sense of this sudden reunion. You had processed the possibility of Joel's death so long ago that when you arrived in Jackson, you didn't think to ask.

Joel's eyes softened, a mix of guilt and surprise in his gaze. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but the words seemed to fail him.

Ellie stood beside him, glancing between you both, clearly curious but wisely staying quiet. Her presence made it even more awkward—another reminder of how much time had passed, how much had changed.

“You—uh—settled here then?” Joel finally asked, shifting uncomfortably, his hands gripping the strap of his pack.

You nodded. “Yeah. I help at the clinic.”

Joel looked down, nodding slowly. His silence said more than words ever could. The years apart had been brutal, and now, standing here together after so long, the air felt thick with everything left unsaid.

Ellie, still watching you with wide, curious eyes, finally broke the silence with a small smirk. “You guys really know each other, huh?”

You and Joel exchanged a glance. “Yeah,” you said, your voice soft. “We go way back.”

Joel let out a quiet, almost reluctant chuckle, but his gaze stayed fixed on you, the years of distance and loss etched in his expression. You swallowed hard, emotions bubbling just beneath the surface, unsure of how to bridge the gap that time had carved between you.

As the sun dipped lower behind the mountains, you both stood there, awkward and unsure, but undeniably connected, just as you had always been.

[sugoi-and-spice]

Like my work? Please consider commissioning me or contributing to my Ko-Fi!

Chapter Twenty-Three - I’m Not Okay (I Promise)

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Virginity Kink, Groping, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Animal Death, Slow Burn, Misogyny

Read Full Chapter on AO3

[excerpt]

Even for a Friday afternoon the arcade was way more crowded than she had expected. The group had originally planned on grabbing a bite at the attached restaurant before gaming, but their new addition had created a bit of a logistical problem.

“I’m so sorry,” the Hostess bowed repeatedly and apologetically, “All of our larger party tables are booked for at least another hour. The most we could fit is a chair on the end of a four person booth.”

“Awww, really? I mean how small are the booths? We’re all friends, we can squeeze!” Nejire insisted, pulling Amajiki into a tight hug at the waist to prove her point, much to the quickly reddening boy’s chagrin.

“That’s against our fire code,” she bowed again, “I’m really so sorry.”

Yuyu, ever the pragmatic one, turned to suggest, “I guess we’re gonna have to split up?”

Nejire pouted, “That’s not really festive.”

Mirio, more than happy to put on a show to either sacrifice one of his friends to table with Shigaraki, or make show of how much he didn’t belong there at the moment, put a hand on Nejire’s shoulder, “Hey, we gotta do what we gotta do, right?”

Shigaraki was feeling itchier and pricklier by the second. He didn’t particularly enjoy being the center of gawking attention even under the best of circumstances. And this moment — standing awkwardly to the side as a group of kids already way cooler than he could ever hope to be were actively discussing the logistics as to why he was a complete inconvenience to all of them — was far from the best of circumstances.

He leaned into his one spider’s thread of a tie to it all, whispering nervously, “I’ll just go, this is stupid…”

Mirio, somehow hearing him, as if he’d been waiting for those words frowned “sympathetically” at him, “Awww? Are you sure?”

“Uh, y-yeah…” Shigaraki said, even he was a bit taken aback by how quick Mr. ‘Let’s Make Everyone Smile At All Times” was willing to kick him to the curb, “I-I’m making this weird anyway, right?”

Nobody really wanted to answer. That’s what the group of friends did think, after all.

But then she put a hand, a perfectly manicured lifeline, on his shoulder.

“Don’t be silly,” she pointed out, “Look, there’s a two seater right by that booth. Shigaraki and I will take that and then we won’t have to squeeze anywhere.”

The group all looked about each other, shrugging and mumbling positively. That really did seem like the best option. The group that needed to be altogether — the friends since elementary school — were indeed, altogether, and Shigaraki was neither ostracized nor isolated with people he didn’t know. It was a perfectly fine solution for all.

All except Mirio.

“H-Hey, those big party tables aren’t reserved for the night or anything right?” Mirio asked the hostess, and upon a confirming nod, he offered back to the group, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not starving or anything — why don’t we just put our name down and play some games in the meantime? Then nobody has to squeeze or split, you know?” 

Another chorus of shrugs and “Yeah, that’s work”’s — and Mirio had his, admittedly, small victory over the situation. 

Though it’s not like it lasted long.

Continue on AO3

[gethoce]

Hey uh, how does it feel to be that much of a great artist? Like, genuinely, you're so... Like, amazing what you do here, your art? Top Notch, the character designs are so unique, but they all feel like they have a soul, in the best way possible. All intrinsical shapes and sizes, motivations, color palletes, everything is so good. The writing? Stellar, basing your matters on actual folklore, history and mythology is genuinely so great. Your reinterpretations of Canon characters? Incredible, Metamorpho isn't really something I ship yet you somehow made me enjoy it when you draw it yourself, as well as things like Sir Arthur and Specially Morpho give me joy.

Your art is such an inspiration... You inspired me to make my own stuff! Even if I sometimes am jealous of it fjdjdj, like what you do is so good that it makes me a little bit angry, in the best way possible.

George coming in strong once again to boost my confidence. Your comments are very much appreciated and highly valued. Every artist longs for motivational boosts like this. I am flattered, to say the least and delighted to hear that I have inspired you!! eje6e5f2uf

That being said, how does it feel? I’m in constant fear of failure. I could probably easily list like 20 artists I wished I could be more like without even leaving Kirblr. If you ever wonder whether I too feel insecure about my art the answer is yes. I've been trying to find something to work on that the community enjoys in greater numbers for almost a year and failed time and time again. But we keep on going all the same :galathumb:

Anyway, on a brighter note, Metamorpho! Or how I like to call it Morphometa because the Metamorpho tag is terrible for finding art of them which might contribute to the low popularity of the ship. As a matter of fact, it is so unpopular there doesn't even appear to be a ship name to borrow from the Japanese fandom.

What is the appeal for me in this ship? They have chemistry for being warriors of similar moral standing but there gotta be more than that. In the case of my interpretation, spoiler alert, it's the depressed guy and reaper dynamic. One who views himself as a monster that wants to go out as a hero never to be seen as what he is and a one who on surface level is a being of life and light but has hidden flaws that haunt his mind every second of every day. One who sees the good in the other and wishes for him to see the bad in him as opposed to the one who just can't do either. There is a wish to be understood and over time they learn to be just that for each other.

Then Sir Arthur… a terrible person who is trying to become better without ever being held accountable for his action. Someone who thinks he has successfully left his past behind only for potential secrets to be exposed. A man who is willing to switch sides at any second if he sees no way towards redemption anymore. Never turn your back towards this man.

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

Tbh I just wanna say that I'm going absolutely feral for the story, omfg. Also, re: that post u shared about Rust liking music, I was re-watching, noticed Rust had a boombox in the storage shed, and was thinking about what he would listen to. Definitely strikes me as a Leonard Cohen, Townes Van Zandt, Johnny Cash guy, but might also like Swans, Suicide, Nick Cave and Rowland S. Howard. I could also see him being a classical music fan (heavy on the Bach, Schubert, Hildegarde Von Bingen, 20th Century minimalism).

omg you're RIGHT--he does have a boombox even in his weirdo 3D murder board multimedia experience storage shed. And none of his evidence is on tape--just the video on VHS--so it's there purely because he wants it there. Perfect. We have in story justification for going wild with the playlists.

(palm's playlist from that post is full of bangers in particular, though)

Fucking imagine the vibe for the other customers, though. It's late and you're tired and you just gotta pick up this one thing more left over from your recent move, and somewhere in the storage shed complex some motherfucker is listening to the angstiest parts of the Leonard Cohen catalog. His door is closed. You smell cigarette smoke. You don't KNOW he's in there looking at weird serial killer shit but somehow. you do know. you decide that granny's good silverware can stay in storage for a little longer, actually.

But anyway, THANK YOU, anon. I feel like an anon dropping your inbox to compliment your fic writing is definitely what counts as Making It on tumblr dot com. And I am truly thrilled that people are enjoying my little id lead contribution. I expected no comments on chapter 3 in particular but instead everyone's been so nice! I haven't actually ENJOYED writing in such a long time and this experience is like. Genuinely healing for me. lol. lol because I mean that sincerely and being sincere is gross and embarrassing. but we do it anyway!

I think all your suggestions are solid except that I really need to check out Rowland S. Howard.

and oh man.

The Rust of the zombieboyband continuity is DEFINITELY blasting Nick Cave out of his truck speakers while being miserable in someone's parking lot. Red Right Hand is very Rust, actually, now that you mention, and there's also that entire album that's specifically the "hey I was doing so much heroin" Nick Cave album.

and of course, for the zbb Rust in particular: Loverman.

letters V and E because he's fundamentally still kind of a hater. but R and M

(omg HAHAHA--their initials)

because he's a freak.

[bluedemon1995]

As usual I’m late to the party, but I am determined to write something for each prompt!

Below starts my contribution to the Kidge Summer Event ❤️💚❤️💚 Please click on the link to take you to more!

Day 1:

Camping: AU-no aliens have visited and the team are camp counselors for a sleep away camp.

Keith sighs, absently contemplating the choices he’s made that led him here. In the middle of nowhere. Far from home. And annoyingly loud. Absently using a stick to dig a trench at the base of his shoe, he wondered how the fuck he let himself get roped into this? Well, he knows how but the better question was, which adult thought HE was camp counselor material? Not to mention it was beyond the temperature of hell and the kids in his group were driving him crazy. Let’s not even touch on his co-counselors. And it was only day one.

How was he going to last 2 freaking weeks? He found himself digging harder in the dirt, wishing he could just dig his way out of this damn camp. Suddenly, a foot came into view, gently pushing the dirt back into the hole then patting it level.

“Hey, stop moping. I have a job you will actually like, so get up and help me.”

And here he is, the origin of his current problem. “Look Shiro, I’m on my dinner break still, in fact I have five full minutes left, so go find your BFF to help you.”

Shiro grinned, replying, “I can’t, he’s busy tracking down his sister who managed to hide better than you. She’s a first time camp counselor too so you guys have that in common.”

Keith rolled his eyes knowing the next thing would be how they have other things in common and how they could be friends. Yet he reluctantly stood and followed Shiro to what looked like a camp fire space. When Shiro gave him the go ahead to start making the fire, Keith just grumbled to himself but started building the kindling never-the-less.

“EEEEEEE!!! PIDGE!!!!”

Keith winced and gritted his teeth, damn, that McClain guy was so loud! What was he yelling about now? He bet a well aimed punch would quiet him down. Glancing up he sees Shiro’s friend Matt and he’s pulling a small girl with him. Huh...He thought you weren’t allowed to physically, whoa!

“Let me go you asshat! I thought you had my back! You can just Fuck off!” That girl had some lungs.

The girl jerks her arm loose of Holt and proceeds to step INTO him somehow staring him down, despite the fact she was a good half a foot shorter than him! Keith is mesmerized. She’s mini sized but MORE.

“You fucking tattletale! How could you pull mom in?”

Mom? Keith is quickly making the connections, this must be Holt’s sister, the one who hid better. With her volume, there is now a crowd materializing and Keith is wondering how this will play out. Shiro doesn’t look worried however so this must not be unusual.

Matt scoots around the girl and practically runs over to Shiro for protection. Shiro, who is standing to his left, seems to stand at full height…for this little girl? Keith’s eyes however stay on the girl. It’s getting dark, so Keith isn’t entirely sure of her hair or eye color. But she’s wearing jean shorts, converse and a bright orange Bigfoot sweatshirt. She quickly follows in her brother’s shadow and when she misses his arm she taps him behind the knee with her foot causing him to stumble. Keith continues watching this scene and wonders what’s next.

Shiro bravely lets Matt hide behind him and gives the girl his patented diffuser smile. The one he uses when he’s trying to get him out of trouble smile. The one who charms the pants off girls and grown men alike. But not this girl, who stops abruptly, yet even has the nerve to frown at Shiro!

“Shiro, you know I love you but you gotta move. Unless you want an earful too! I know you two,” pointing with her finger and going back and forth between Shiro and Holt, “ cooked up this harebrained idea of ME being a camp counselor, so I’m mad at you too!”

Keith grinned. Yes, someone else who wasn’t on board! Did she just mutter “shit list”?

Suddenly McClain was there, yelling, “Pidgey! I knew you would come and not desert us!”

He goes to hug her and while she allows it, she doesn’t quite return his hug.

“No Lance, I WAS going to stay home, but unfortunately, my brother decided to be a snitch and let my mom know that dad was going to let me stay home. Hence, my presence.” Curtsey.

Haha.

“Ohhhhhh, but it’s going to be so much fun! We get to hang out over summer and Hunk is here too! He’s on kitchen duty now but c’mon don’t be mad.” He gives her a comically sad face here and Keith can’t help but wonder, what’s their relationship?

Why was his arm still around her? And, even more curious, why did he care?

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Pavement - Glad I'm Not Dead

Pavement recently wrapped up a tour of Japan/Australia/New Zealand — and the reunion rolls on, with some festival dates coming up and a residency in Iceland. Not sure if they'll make it out to my neck of the woods in 2023 (who wants to pay for me to go to Iceland though???), but I'd love to catch them again — the Denver show was incredibly fun.

In the meantime, let's dig into this fantastic Anazgnos compilation "personally selected from favorite performances via fan-sourced, freely shared audience recordings." The entire repertoire — 59 songs! — is represented here. What didn't they play this time around? I feel like "Rattled By The Rush" is one of the major missing tunes, but you gotta appreciate that Pavement really dug deep into the catalog this time around.

And hey, as I mentioned last year, I was honored/privileged/shocked to be asked to contribute a little essay to Pavement's official tour program. Since that piece of merch appears to be sold out, here's that little essay ...

“What does it mean, a mistake or two?” Stephen Malkmus asked in the dead center of Slanted and Enchanted, Pavement’s 1992 debut LP. Thirty years later, it still feels like the defining question of the band’s career. From their scratchy early singles to the more polished surfaces of Terror Twilight, Pavement’s albums and live performances were filled with what, for other groups, might be called mistakes. Think of how 1994’s Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain kicks off: a cacophony of jumbled notes, off-kilter rhythms and room noise — all before launching into the majestic preamble of “Silence Kid,” the pieces magically falling into place. Think of how that same LP ends, cutting off abruptly mid-verse, incomplete but somehow completely satisfying. Pavement famously called one of their first EPs Perfect Sound Forever, but perfection was never the point. A mistake (or two) could be just as beautiful.

“Honor thy error as a hidden intention” was one of those semi-mystical koans found in Brian Eno’s legendary Oblique Strategies way back in the 1970s. In some ways, it’s an artist’s “Get Out Of Jail Free” card, saying that an accident can be framed in any he or she likes. But over the course of a decade, intentionally or not, Pavement went even further, building an entire aesthetic identity around finding the meaning in mistakes, in seemingly random lyrical connections, in opposing impulses. After all, this is a band whose breakthrough hit — “Cut Your Hair” — was a song that dealt honestly (and humorously) with the fear of having a breakthrough hit. Contradiction and complexity are the hallmarks of our age — why shouldn’t they be reflected in our music? It might be this tension that keeps Pavement relevant after all these years, with new audiences falling in love with the group, and a hotly anticipated 2022 reunion tour that sees them playing on larger stages than ever before. (Well, that and all the sweet guitar action and impossibly hook-y choruses that send you ba-ba-ba-da-ing into the night.)

“They need to try harder!” complained one of our finest music critics — a cartoon teen known only as Butt-Head — about Pavement. It was a common assertion back in the 1990s, especially when it came to the band’s live shows, with the dreaded “S” word being thrown around liberally. And sure, if you talk to anyone who caught them during their initial run, they’ll tell you about the false-starts and fuckups, the time original drummer Gary Young stopped the show to perform a drunken headstand, or the unpredictable technical difficulties that might have arisen. (True story: the first time I saw Pavement — the Hollywood Palace, September 15, 1994 — curls of ominous smoke began rising from Malkmus’ amp in the middle of the set. It was hard to tell whether SM thought this gear malfunction was frustrating or hilarious. Probably both.) But don’t be misled. Amidst the hijinks, a Pavement gig was, much more often than not, a glorious thing, offering an openness and pure flow that most bands of the era lacked entirely. Here was a rock band that eschewed rock god moves and poses, instead casually inviting fans into a musical universe that could be heavy as a thundercloud or as fun as the most fun day of your life — sometimes within the space of a single song. That welcoming spirit can still be found whenever and wherever Pavement steps onstage. The opening line of “Grave Architecture” said it all: “Come on in.”

[david-talks-sw]

Hey there folks! Small updates on my end, figured I'd share.

I'm back from the holidays and finished writing a really long post that somehow ties the Netflix limited series Inside Man to the writing in the Star Wars Prequels.

And on the one hand I'm really happy that all that's left is the GIFs... on the other there's this voice in my head asking "how the fuck did this come about?" and "are we reaching, here?" and "this is because you took too much earl grey tea and procrastinated!"

Upcoming posts currently in my Drafts:

"The Lucasfilm transmedia approach pre- and post-Disney sale" (out-of-universe analysis).

"The children in the Jedi Order" (in-universe meta), which has been in my Drafts since February 2022 and I need to update with content and images from Obi-Wan Kenobi and finally finish!

An Ask/QnA post about Force Ghosts and whether Sith can become them (in-universe meta).

An in-and-out-of-universe analysis about Luke in TLJ which is so long I'm not sure I wanna inflict it on anyone because I sort of land in the middle of the debate about that character and it's been such a long while since TLJ came out that I'm not sure it's contributing anything new or even worth sharing, but probably will at some point because I got the images and artwork ready.

An Ask/QnA post about the difference between the George Lucas who made the Original Trilogy vs the one who made the Prequels. Still gotta start that one.

Also:

Got the thing!

Have a great week!

[bellmo15-blog]

Why I Don't Enjoy Going To The Cinemas Anymore

HEAR ME OUT! Please just HEAR ME OUT ON THIS! I swear I have a good reason for thinking this. After all, why would you say something like this and not have a good reason for it or are only saying it to piss people off and get attention. Thank God there’s no one like that in real life ha ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha. HA HA HA HA HA HA….

I really haven’t been enjoying the idea of going to the cinema lately. I have slowly been coming to this realisation more and more recently. Not because there’s nothing on at the cinemas, that’s not true. We are still getting some great movies that are coming out in the theatres. Nor is it even because video games tend to be my preferred form of entertainment. I mean yeah, they are, but I have been in recent years making more of an effort to actually watch new movies and shows… Usually while having Wii Fit running in the background and doing something like Free Jogging. Hey I gotta keep myself in shape SOMEHOW!

No, my reasons for not enjoying going to the cinema lately have been born from a result of bad personal experiences. Not with movies themselves (although granted I have sadly seen bad movies in cinemas like The 5th Wave) but rather the experiences themselves. Some major, some minor, both contribute either way.

Forced 3D Showings

Remember when 3D was like this big new thing movies were trying to implement in almost every movie? You also probably remember that when going to a 3D showing of certain movies they forced you watch those movies with those glasses with the red and blue lenses in them. I actually first remembered this being a thing with Spy Kids 3 where it was advertised as a big part of the movie and they were really in your face with it in the advertising. And it wasn’t long before I started seeing more movies having this. And I hated that! And this isn’t even some “Oh, I loved this as a child” thing either, no! Even as a kid I hated the 3D showings of movies! Because none of them really felt 3D to me.

In fact, anytime I’ve ever seen a movie in 3D it’s felt less like stuff was literally popping out of the screen and more like I was just watching a movie with a red and blue filter on it. I don’t know if this was just a me thing or whatever, but I never experienced any form of true 3D at 3D screenings. And that’s not even taking into account how they make you wear those glasses that you have no idea who’s used them before and might be carrying diseases on them. The only time I ever truly felt real 3D was when I went to Movie World in Queensland as a child and they had a showing of Shrek 4D. THAT actually did feel like real 3D. Or 4D as they were calling it there.

The one movie I remember hating that it was a forced 3D showing the most though was when I went to see The Walk. Some of you might not remember this movie but it’s a film based on a true story about a French high-wire artist who wanted to tightrope across the Twin Towers. At the time this movie came out, late 2015, I had been going to the cinema on my own a fair bit thanks to me having my licence (kinda. I mean I COULD drive without any supervision, but I had a limit to how many passengers I could have in my car and had to have a red P Plate on my window) and was also 18 meaning I could see pretty much everything without needing supervision… And the one show time it was running that was available for me to see was a 3D showing. *Sigh.* I mean, I still liked the movie anyway but the fact that I had to wear one of those stupid glasses for an effect that barley works just got to me hurt the experience for me. And considering I was still in High School at this time meaning I didn’t have a very open schedule to begin with it was either this or not at all!

Getting Sick at Inconvenient Times

Speaking of inconveniences, how about the number of times I’ve had to step out to go to the bathroom? Because it’s sadly happened a fair bit. And sometimes at the most inconvenient times two! How To Train Your Dragon; had to step out right as the climax was starting. Shreak 2; I don’t remember what point I had to step out specifically but I hated that I had to given how much I love this movie. Ferrari; Had to step out not once but TWICE to go to the bathroom. Worst part is that the movie Ferrari was something we took my step farther out to see for his birthday so that fact I couldn’t be present for at least like 20% of the movie sucked.

This is granted a pretty minor issue I know but not being able to pause a movie to go to the bathroom meaning you could miss important plot points or details doesn’t help at all.

The Super Mario Bros Movie

Okay, now we are getting into more specific examples and when I said earlier that my reasons for not enjoying going to the cinema recently came less from the movies themselves and more from the people at those theatres this and one other movie are the major reasons. Because I loved the Super Mario Bros Movie! It was a great movie that had some really fun moments, actually felt like the games it was based on unlike the live action one from the 90’s and the fact that I enjoyed this movie as much as I did is even more amazing considering this film was made by an animation studio that’s notorious for having some of the worst or most bland movies in the industry.

Yeah, I liked this movie. I did not like my experience going to see this movie however! You see, I saw this movie day one when it came out in theatres, even managed to get off work 30 minutes early so I could go home, get changed and make it in time. And all though out this movie there was one loud and obnoxious guy in the theatre who was shouting out at every single reference he saw. “OH MY GOD, KID ICARUS! OOH, PALUNE! YO YOSHIS!” and he even made a reference to the “And then there’s Chunky, he’s dead…” meme at one point. And I hated it. Like he wasn’t even sitting next to me or anything, he was a few rows down and I could still hear him. It’s like dude, I know! I’ve played these games two! Most of us watching this movie have! Now can you please let up enjoy the movie in peace?

You know those react channels on YouTube that love to point the most minor things or easter egg or get all loud and screamy over certain things? Yeah, this was like that but I had to put up with it personally happening a few feet away from me. When this movie came out on Blu Ray a few months later I brought it, got home and was so happy I could watch this movie in peace without having to deal with anyone disturbing that peace.

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

And then, we get to my experience going to see Across the Spider-Verse. Bit of context for this one. When I went to see this movie my little cousins had come over. They are extremely young, like 10 at most, and usually when they come over my mother usually takes them to see a movie at the theatres offering to take me with them as well since what else am I going to do that afternoon? And they don’t always make the best judgment calls on what to see since while we have taken them to see stuff like the Sonic 2 movie, the last time before this particular visit Puss in Boots The Last Wish was showing at the cinema and what did we go and see? The Mummies! A mediocre movie about ancient mummies ending up in London and the whole thing was basically “Lol, look at these old ass undead beings struggling to adapt to modern society.”

So when they booked tickets to take the kids to go see Across the Spider-Verse of course I’d be excited to see this. Especially as someone who loved the original Into the Spider-Verse and had finally gotten to the play the one Spider-Man game I had always wanted to for over a decade the year prior Shattered Dimensions. You all know where I’m going with this, I loved the movie but the experience going was painful.

-Neither my mother or Step Farther knew it was an animated film until AFTER we got to the cinema despite the fact that they booked these tickets online meaning they HAD to know this beforehand -One of them complained about how the movie was “two long” which is REALLY rich considering they saw Avatar the Way of Water in cinema which was even longer than Across the Spider-Verse at 3 hours and 16 minutes. -One of them admitted they only came for the popcorn. -Another complained the movie was “two confusing” which was their own fault for thinking that considering they fell asleep half way though. -Oh and the cherry on top, they wrote the whole thing of as nothing more than a “kids movie” just because it was animated. Even though the whole plot of this movie is pretty dark and mature since Spider-Man 2099 is basically saying in this movie “Oh yeah and umm, you have to let certain key characters in certain universe die otherwise that universe it wiped out!”

Yeah, there attitude after this movie was finished didn’t exactly put me in a good mood for the rest of the night. And let me just say if THIS is how they act over this movie then I pray to God they never find out about shows like The Owl House or Amphibia, shows that are aimed towards children but also have very mature themes and morals in them! (I mean the final episode of season 2 of Amphibia even opens with a disclaimer it might be disturbing to some viewers.)

So yeah, those are pretty much all the big reasons why I have grown such a sour taste in wanting to go to the cinema willingly. I don’t want to have to run the risk of being forced to watch it in 3D, I don’t want to miss out on key plot points all just because natures call and don’t want to have my experience of a movie I’m otherwise enjoying be soured by the people around me. Compare that to watching movies in the comfort of my own home where I don’t have to put up with other people potentially running my experience, can watch those movies whenever I want, can pause at any time to go to the bathroom or just to simply do something else important for a few minutes. Which actually brings me to one finally point.

I’ve Always Enjoyed Watching Movies at Home A LOT More Than At The Cinemas Anyway

Yeah, I’ve just always preferred this over having to clear out my schedule just to drive to a cinema for an experience I probably could have had a better time with at home. Not just because of the reasons I’ve brought up already but also because it’s a lot more accessible to me in general. Both because of DVD’s/Blu Rays and Streaming services. DVD’s I can literally just buy at my local JB Hi-Fi and that’s it! The movie is mine to keep forever and watch whenever I want. All I have to do is just pop it into my PlayStation 5, PlayStation 3 or PlayStation 2 and just hit play movie! I mean watching movies though physical media like DVD’s or Blu Ray’s aren’t perfect either and do have their own issues. Aside from the fact that not every movie or show is available at my local places not every show or movie is also lucky enough to get a physical release. Some shows that originate on streaming services do, I have a copy of the The Last of Us series to prove it, but for others it’s either get a streaming service or go fuck yourself! And that’s not even bringing up how disks can get scratched or might not work anymore if you don’t take good care of them or some of them have unskipable adds. I mean at the end of the day they are still really minor issues anyway.

Then there is streaming services. For the price of literally a movie ticket, or hell maybe even less if we are comparing the entry fee for most streaming sites to the cinema I’ve had to frequent in the last decade and a half *Screams in Australian money* you get access to a whole host of movies new and old depending on the service to watch on whatever compatible device you have as well as access to a bunch of other great original stuff like The Mandalorian, Inside Job, Invinsable and Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio. I mean Disney + alone has every episode of Futurama on it while Prime Video has The Matrix on it! It’s worth becoming a subscriber for those alone! Oh but don’t think I’m letting Streaming Services off the hook either because they aren’t perfect either. For some services, Netflix in particular, they can actually remove certain movies or shows from there site. And I REALLY don’t get why. Like, it is a legal issue or something? Did there licence for those movies or shows run out? They will give you a warning most of the time when something from your watchlist is about to be taken off but I still wish this wasn’t the case. Oh, and there’s also the fact that you have to constantly be connected to the internet at all times while watching so sorry if yours goes out for whatever reason. Thankfully those services let you download certain movies and shows… on the mobile apps only. Seriously, why it that limited to only the mobile apps and not something I can do on my PS5?

But honestly, given the option I’d rather take watching movies at home though either of these methods than run the risk of having another awful experience at the cinema. So yeah, that’s pretty much why I haven’t had any motivation to actually go to the cinema lately. It has nothing to do with me wanting to do anything stupid like boycotting a movie I have no real interest in seeing anyway (I seriously can not express how stupid I think the concept of boycotting is to begin with) or me being some wired edge lord who thinks he’s cool because he’s a rebel who doesn’t do what everyone else is doing or anything like that. In fact, I think people should still go to the cinema if they want to so that they can support a movie they are interested in. As for me, I think I’m fine with supporting that movie a few months later when it comes out on physical media or streaming.

There, I ended this with a positive conclusion. Now no one who’s new to this page will ever accuse me of having a controversial take!

Genie Bellmo: This coming from the same guy who un-ironically likes Heavy Rain and Detroit Become Human?

……… Shut up!

[thatdeadaquarius]

PLS YOU’RE SO FUNNY your pspspsps is too strong I’m back with more asks hello how are you I’m loving your takes on sagau! I thought of a contribution by the power of the pspsps imagine like the languages in teyvat are based on the nations’ real life counterparts (like Japanese for Inazuma) but like only loosely. So creator knows like exactly 3 words in Japanese and think they’re gonna take that and somehow make it work but they get there and understand NOTHING. They finally understand like one word but turns out it means something completely different in this version of “Japanese” so they think someone told them hi and they said hi back but they’re just going around saying “fuck” and no one wants to tell them

ANOTHER ONE YUHSSS LURING BACK IN FOR MORE im doing well tysm for asking ya flatterer!!

aw u think im funny??!! 🥰 well geez here i thought i was just going feral over sagau/isekai genshin stuff and it was like a dam burst and all yall were just coming down with me funny or not 🤷‍♂️

(Hey askers look ive got cookies 🍪🍪🍪 :) if u ask smth ill give u one!!)

Nice to know the humor translates, but holy fuck this ask is like 10x funnier than anything ive written so far or come up with LMAO PLEASE NO ONE WANTS TO TELL YOU-

____________

This is exactly what Portugese vs. Spanish is like i stg

Im not fluent yet but i know a decent amount of spanish at this point, but when i was first learning it i ran into some Portuguese and couldnt really read it and was like?? Oh ok maybe this is too many vocab words i dont get yet, and showed it to another person who spoke some Spanish and they were like ".. Uh, wtf is that?? What is that???🧐😟 Thats not even Spanish, but why is it almost???" And they just kept trying to read it so hard bc they thought it was so close it should work 😭

Anyway the point is i feel like that is just you in this scenario over and over again lol

Its like teaching a little kid language and they happen to pick up the cusswords the best,

Omfg ur around Beidou about to head to Inazuma (bc i like to think u traveling with Aether/Lumine and they r sweet enough not to abandon ur weird ass)

And Beidou just keeps cussing in Liyue's-almost-Mandarian-Chinese-but-not, and ur like trying to pick smth up bc it sucks none of ur little bits and pieces of lang. from ur world have worked so far, and she keeps saying this one word over and over again, to this angry looking Liyue guy, oh hey wait a minute, that's the Mandarin word for "hello"!! Maybe she's using it sarcastically?? She smiled afterward, oh Kazuha's laughing!! Maybe it means smth different? But they still look positive abt it so eh, cant hurt, and you sort of know how to say it!!

"你好 !! (nǐhǎo)", you do a little wave too :)

(I just used straight mandarin for this pls tell me if not right-)

Hey you did it! Sort of, you didn't really do the tones right, and you look over to see if they got it, and oop-

Everybody froze and looked at you, before Beidou starts screaming laughing, Kazhua's wheezing so hard he's leaning on a barrel nearby, the traveler is trying to keep it together, but u can see Beidou's ridiculous laugh is contagious and is spreading rapidly to crew members and to the traveler,,

The angry Liyuean man no longer looks angry, oh, he's leaving, welp, you can tell u did smth funny, but u havent a clue what u actually said

Every now and then Beidou will come up to you and try to teach u more Liyuean words, but anytime the traveler sees it they shoo her off, she has a shit-eating grin on her face, while the traveler looks unamused or is at least trying to hide their amusement

(There r so many characters that will take advantage of this and only try to teach you cuss words, at least at first, CHILDE, kaveh, VENTI, Itto, BEIDOU, Xinqiu the little prankster, ppl i can think of quickly god i gotta look at a character list)

Beidou BEAMS anytime u say "nîhâo" now, and gives u a thumbs up everytime 👍

You learn much later that you probably should just give up trying to say any of your world's lang. That sound equivalent to each genshin country's lang. bc apparently the few words you know from them are either random shit like "egg, bowl, etc." Or straight up explicit "fuck, shit, piss etc."

__________

I didnt have too much to add bc that is a GREAT AND HILARIOUS idea all on its own (esp if u did it in front of more serious characters or situation)

So pls forgive if lackluster writing happened!!

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!! COME AGAIN!! AND YOU'LL GET A FREE COOKIE!! :]

✨️🍪✨️

Cheers,

🌒🌧🌊Aquarius♒️🌌🌘

[grigori77]

Critical Role Campaign 3 Episode 38

Matt, attempting to pick between a French and Cajun accent as Gambit ... oh dear ... on the other hand, Taliesin for the Mr Sinister love, nice one mate. Then there's Laura, looking PARTICULARLY cute as Rogue, which is nice. And then there's Marisha, who genuinely IS Jean Grey in that outfit ...

Meanwhile Sam clearly didn't get the memo since he turned up as Mr Fantastic. WHO ISN'T AN X-MAN!!! As the others continually remind him ... also those ridiculous extendo-arms are CLEARLY gonna be an issue going forward. I foresee considerable dice chaos with THAT shit.

Mighty Nein reunion? Really? Oooooooh ... sweet!

Liamreally committing to the Cyclops goggles might be a mistake too. We shall see ...

More whispers of U'kotoa ... XD

IT'S THURSDAY NIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT ...

Damn it ... yet again Marisha is missing from the table. I really am starting to hate this.

Okay, come on ... come on ... this really is gonna be weird if we get super emotional with everybody in fancy dress like this.

FCG: "Lady Vex, is your husband gonna be okay with this?" Vex: "He'll have to be."

Pike says to stay hydrated, kids!

Friend or a fight ... hmmmm ...

Fearne complimenting Pike is still some meta weirdness. That ain't going away any time soon.

Yeah, Delilah's kind of like herpes, really ...

FCG: "You need to hold my hand?" Sam shoves an extendo-arm into Matt's face. He accepts the joke with impressive grace, actually. Somehow Sam does not derail the solemnity of the moment.

Come back to us, Laudna. Please come back ...

Orym making red poppies bloom in Laudna's hair, that's so sweet. ONE SUCCESS!!! YES!!!

FCG: "You may not have been perfect, but you have loved, and a soul that loves at least TOUCHES perfection." Cast Compel? Seriously? NATURAL 1?!!! SHIT!!! Did he ... did he lose her?

Imogen, you're our BEST HOPE. You got this ...

Fuck, Imogen's contribution ... that's just ... fuck, she's crying and I'm crying and we're all crying ... persuasion check ... oh fuck, no ... 7? Shit ...

Gods, please, PLEASE let this work anyway ...

Wait, Pike's all floaty, that's a good sign, right?

Matt, get this resurrection roll right, man ... damn it, he's taking a picture again ...

Oh no ... what ... what does that mean?

Pike slaps Laudna awake! Wait ... MARISHA IS BACK!!! SHE'S BACK!!! YES!!! Everybody's so happy and everything is right with the world again.

Oh gods I love that Laudna's first thoughts are to ask after IMOGEN. That's love, baby!

FCG casts Detect Thoughts on her ... tiny emotional roller-coaster, man!

Vex is aiming a bow at Laudna! Yeah, that's about right ...

Seriously? Sam's gonna take a piss NOW?!!!

It's Laudna. Pike says it's JUST Laudna ... so is she gone? Insight check? Pike seems honest ... phew.

Yeah, they're in Whitestone. Chetney, to Laudna: "It's not like it was!"

Laudna has NOTHING to be sorry for ... hey, stop messing with her, stop telling her it's been YEARS!!! I mean yeah it's funny but still!

Whoa, riflemen? Fascinating ...

Yeah, that's right, WOULD SHE know who either of these women are? Intelligence of 6? Really?

Laudna: "You're very pretty." Vex: "So are you." Okay ... more meta weirdness.

Holy shit, the place is SURROUNDED!!! Yup, that's gotta be Percy. Yeah, it is. I am not even remotely surprised.

Laudna remembers what it used to be as she sees what is now ... oh, the Sun Tree, that's gotta be a hell of a thing. Laudna wants to go to it and I do not blame her at all.

Raise Dead ... yeah, that's right, she's gonna be a mess for a while after that.

Travis continues to roll like shit and I love how enthusiastic he is about it. XD

Laudna wondering if this isn't just one of Delilah's tricks hurts so much ... she's just TRAUMATISED right now, isn't she? She's still imagining the OLD Sun Tree with the hanging bodies ... the kids! Oh ...

Wow, the kid actually getting that she's FUN scary is so sweet ... oh man, Pate is gonna just blow this kid's mind fight now! "He smells funny!" Laudna: "He knows, he's a little sensitive about it."

That is SUCH a different thing from the scared kid's in the first episode, it hits SO HARD ...

Laudna hugs the Sun Tree ...

New Form of Dread ... wow ... she's embodying the Sun Tree in its life cycle! That's so awesome! Like magical therapy!

Uh oh, here comes Percy ... be nice, please ...

Holy fuck ... is he actually APOLOGISING?!!! My gods he is ... wow ... growth, man! Nice one!

Laudna: "I named my pet rat after you." Percy: "I'm sorry?"

The Sun Tree is warm ... EVERYBODY TOUCH IT!!! Ashton: "I'm just enjoying the view right now, I don't know if I can. It's just hilarious." Meanwhile Chetney gets wood ...

Yeah, Keyleth talks to the tree, everybody knows that. Laudna: "Hello, tree."

Vex continues to twist Percy around her little finger and I love it. To be honest I think he's mellowing in his old age ...

Ooooh ... Vex takes them on a tour of Whitestone.

Pike REALLY has to look up at Fearne. I love it. Seriously, Ashley are you REALLY gonna pick your old character's pocket? Whoa ... the holy symbol? Oh boy ... yeah, that wasn't gonna work, was it? Nice she gave her a pass, though. XD

Sam sneezes during Laudna's big emotional revelation. For once Ashley doesn't tell him to stop it ...

Ooooooh ... Find Familiar? Is this gonna work? Oh please let this work, the possibilities for chaos are GIGANTIC.

Fuck, it speaks! That is BRILLIANT!!!

Matt doing Familiar Pate is so fucking mental, I love it! XD this is gonna ne a riot.

Fuck, this just keeps getting better ... and Travis is DEFINITELY creeped out ... Laudna is starting to rethink this and realising it won't actually end ... hmmmm ... oh, yes, he hides in her hair, that could work ...

FCG is reminded of Shithead ... Laudna suggests he use it as therapy. Yeah, that's actually smart.

Awwwww ... Vox Machina memory lane ...

Okay, fancy dinner, this should be entertaining.

Guide Osly Kamida. Okay.

Okay, is FCG actually offering Percy some THERAPY right now?

Oh sweet, a reminder of Taryon and Doty! Awwww ... yeah, actually that might be a smart port of call for FCG actually.

Oh boy, Fearne is actually really asking for a tiny pistol for Mister. A Gunkey! Adorable ... XD Flaming shit, yes ... Holy shit, this is actually gonna work ...

Percy: "Certainly the most interesting dinner we've had in a while."

Imogen's quick thinking helps Vex avoid a Laudna triggering lobster course crisis ... Nice one. Then she checks for invisible guards with Detect Thoughts. Smart.

Mister gets his tiny pistol. Okay ... this could be problematic ... Percy advises Fearne wait until AFTER they leave the city before giving it to him, which is definitely for the best ...

Rapidly prepared potato soup ... yeah ...

One last little talk before retirement ... here we go. Oh yeah, Everybody Loves Manners ...

Oh fuck yeah, the residuum ... hmmm ... AND the Potions of Possibility ... yeah, this is gonna unsettle them a bit.

Yeah, nobody like the Cerberus Assembly much ...

So Percy already hashish eye on the Apogee Solstice, makes sense. Yeah, tell him about Ruidus. The cage, AND the city ... whoa, he doesn't seem surprised at all. That is FASCINATING. Does he know something already? Holy fuck HE DOES!!!

The Divine Gate. The post Calamity boundary between this world and that of the gods. Oh ... so the thing with Ruidus MIGHT be something else, then ...

Bloody hell Sam, what the fuck are you doing with your flask this time? Bloody hell, way to derail the whole episode ... XD

Friends in Vasselheim ... oh yes indeed ...

Fearne: "So this ... I'm sorry, I don't know anything." XD

Chetney compliments Percy on his clock tower. Uh huh ... years of intensity. Yup ...

No Chetney, the world is NOT flat. Percy sets him straight. I doubt it'll take ...

Oh yeah, call up Eshteross' friend to open the tree up for them. Smart.

Oh boy, the moment Percy leaves Chetney starts flirting with Vex. That's adorable.

D'awwwwwwww ... Laudna and Vex bonding ... it's gone beyond just a shocking reminder for her now, she really has become find of her now, hasn't she?

Did Fearne just invite Vex to some bedroom shenanigans?

LIKE a real family? They ARE a real one now, surely. XD Taliesin's costume makes the group hug a bit weird.

Camping trip out by the Sun Tree. Perfect. Oh, and it's warm there too, that works.

Matt: "And we're gonna go to break!" Everybody cheers when they realise the group are FINALLY back together, and NOW they're doing the mTh on JUST HOW CLOSE they came to failing ... oof ...

Yeah, that 2 part Mighty Nein reunion special sounds pretty frickin sweet, my man ...

Oh fuck no not another FUCKING RUIDUS DREAM for Imogen! And she's just IN THE STORM straight away ... FCG is with her, okay, that worked. Interesting ...

Is Otohan there? 16 on a Perception roll ... there's SOMEONE here, moving around in the dust. They go to follow them ...

Not Otohan, someone BIGGER. Hmmm ... ah shit, they're gone. Oh, so they were a ghost ... like with Bertrand ... someone just died? Oh fuck, who is it? Please not Eshteross ...

Really? You guys are gonna try to FLY in this? Well, at least that means they CAN use their spells here. But what kind of spell slots do they have? Ah ... FCG can't use HIS magic here, then. Hmmm ...

Oh, well THAT didn't work ... now they're just getting CHUCKED AROUND something awful.

19 Perception check ... Imogen is the same, but indistinct. Because it's a dream of course, surely. FCG thinks it makes her look cool.

Imogen tries to Message Eshteross through her dream ... no joy? What does THAT mean?

Oh, so it's not her magic, just her WILL that makes all that work. Okay.

And now they're in SPACE. FCG: "Where are we?" Imogen: "We're on the moon, bitch!"

Wake up ... well, at least they got a long rest.

Liam: "Orym's been doing crunches for 20 minutes."

Does Fearne have Speak With Plants? Technically since she just woke up, she could ...

Laudna lets Imogen keep the necklace. She will get a lot more use out of it, after all.

Matt: "So Fearne, are you doing this?" Cue laughter ... arexwe gonna get Sun Tree?

Oh cool, we are! XD I have totally missed that voice ... I love stoner Sun Tree ...

Fearne asks Sun Tree if he has any plans for the Solstice ... Nd he gives her consent to open him up, too ... that's so adorable ...

Oh fuck ... no response from Lord Eshteross ... no. Please no ...

Okay, maybe he's just sleeping. But they need to get back ... they need to contact Shania Twain or whatever her name was ... but first, BREAKFAST!!! It is awful early still over there.

That IS the only face he can actually make, so ...

Chetney in Imogen's dream ... not sure that would be the smartest move.

More flat earth humour ... XD I swear that is not getting old.

Goodbye to Vex, then? Chetney tries to drum up a little extra business.

Oh, here we go ... he finished Imogen's wooden horse ... with no metal of any kind! Special rare wood ... is it called "plastic", perhaps? "By the way if you wind it the wrong way it WILL EXPLODE!!!"

Ah yes ... SHOPPING. Might be a good idea.

Trying to get the horse to work ... Taliesin: "The tension is killing me."

Sam making podcast narration jokes ...

Is it just me or is Matt's Vex getting increasingly camp?

FCG's message to Shania is a total mess ... I am NOT surprised she hasn't got a clue who she's talking to ...

Matt: "THERE IS A GIANT CLOCK ... LITERALLY RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TOWN!!!"

Oh gods ... second message is WORSE ... they're all dying of laughter and so am I ...

Two hours ... REMEMBER THAT, people!

Gilmour's Glorious Goods! OMG!!!!

Oh man ... it's not ACTUALLY Gilmour, though. Just Jerry ... guess he'll have to do.

Ah, the in-game abridged version ... yeah well since it's not Gilmour it's probably best.

Ashton seeks a bigger stick ...

Healing Potions, always a sound investment.

Magical trinkets ... Laudna makes Jerry show off his inner nerd. Oh wow ... NOBODY speaks Elven? Really? Fancy little magic flying griffon toy ...

FCG beelines to Horizon Temple. Ooh, this place is really pretty, sweet statue ...

Ah, here's the Guide himself, he seems nice. FCG seeks answers of the Changebringer. I still suspect he's finally found his goddess. Sounds like I may be right.

Ah, the tongue ... the tongue ... witness Matt die inside a little again ...

FCG tries praying to the Changebringer ... and now he's lost in the town ...

Sam continues to play around Sith his extendo-arms. Cue chiding from Liam: "Samuel!" Laura: "Ooooh, full name!"

Back home through the tree. It's only six in the morning there ... might be all right after all ... whatever, back to Eshteross' place. But CAREFULLY ...

House looks fine ... 18 perception check from Orym ... seems okay ...

Imogen tries another message ... still nothing? Damn it, this is making me crazy now ...

FCG is going to try Locate Creature on Eshteross ... it works, it senses Eshteross. But DOES THAT mean he's still alive?

Cue in depth discussion about whether they can send Pate in to check without him getting destroyed?

Now Chetney's going in invisibly. Is he not worried about the traps?

29 to pick the front door lock ... nice. Now Time for the flying undead rat ... here we go ...

Pate continues to be hilarious. He's ridiculous and it's adorable. Given Marisha's still learning how to have a familiar it's extra fun watcher go mad trying to work out what she's doing ...

Shit ... DOES Pate have Dark Vision?

Signed of a struggle ... oh fuck ... yeah, Eshteross' traps have clearly wreaked havoc on whoever came calling. Not good.

Chetney smells blood ... oh boy ...

Oh, I have missed Laudna's creepy whispers, even under the circumstances they're still fun.

No ... no ... Eshteross is down.

That perception check is BALLS. Chetney is going to get WRECKED going in this room.

Man, Eshteross is a MESS. Perception check for familiar scents ... NATURAL 20!!! Yup. Smells like Otohan WAS here. Thought so.

Chetney tries to move a lockbox and triggers a trap, gets himself AND Eshteross hit. Ouch ...

Nope, Eshteross is OFFICIALLY dead. Argh ... why can't we have nice things, Matt? WHY?!!!

The lockbox opens. Travis: "And I die." Matt: "Game over." Travis: (imitates explosion)

Lots of letters ... oh, there's one for Bells Hells ... noooooo ...

Oh man ... he really did like them. That makes me so sad ... HE LEFT THEM THE COOKIE RECIPE?!!! SERIOUSLY?!!!

Holy fuck he left them the Silver Sun! THEY HAVE A FUCKING AIRSHIP OF THEIR OWN!!!

Matt, being a sadist, makes Travis roll for stealth to make sure he's not tracking through the blood ... 21! Nice ...

They can NEVER remember that bloody name ... the Soot and Swill, good call. Go see Pretty! Yes!

The blood smell on the cane makes Orym remember his husband's death ... and THAT'S IT for tonight! Oh man!

Eshteross, nooooooo ... just when we got Laudna back, too ...

[luvjjongtae]

What's Real? - Ch 2: Dating

Read Ch 1: Meeting here

Word count: 4.2k

“Wait. You have something there.” Minho reached over the coffee table to gently wipe some foam off your upper lip with a napkin before sitting back down in his chair, satisfied with himself.

“Please, that was just for show,” you said with an eye roll and a glance outside the window your table was conveniently placed right next to. You could spot a couple of paparazzi outside already, bulky cameras at the ready.

“Maybe,” he said in a sing-songy voice, taking a sip from his own coffee mug. “You gotta admit, this is kind of fun.”

“Lying to the entire public that we’re dating and going on free dates? Yes, it is kind of fun.” You smirked back at him.

“Hey!” he responded, putting his mug down indignantly, almost spilling it on himself. “This date is on you then. You can’t expect me to pay for them all.”

“I’ll put it on my agency’s tab. Then it’s still free for me.”

“You can– what?” Minho asked, wide-eyed. “You could do that?” He leaned in close, whispering as if it was a state secret.

“Yeah, of course. We aren’t actually dating. This is just like another acting job.” You finished up your coffee and waved at the nearby waiter for the check.

“Wow,” Minho breathed out, surprised at this new information. “Well, then we better go to more expensive places and make the most of it. It’s not often that your agency will pay for your leisure time.”

“True,” you agreed, pulling out your company credit card and signing the check before handing it back to the waiter. “What ideas do you have?”

He thought about it for a moment, looking off into the distance as he mulled over different ideas. Then his eyes sparkled and he locked eyes with you. “Horseback riding.”

“Sounds fun,” you said enthusiastically. “We’ll just have to tip some reporters about where we are or they’ll never find us.”

“You underestimate fans. They’ll find us somehow.”

“Okay, horseback riding it is.” You stood up and held out your arm chivalrously. “Are you ready, sir?” you asked dramatically.

“Why, yes. Thank you,” he said, matching the exaggerated energy and taking your arm and linking them together as you left the coffee shop. You were both prepared now for the clicks and flashes of paparazzi cameras as you walked together to a waiting car. You took a moment before you followed Minho into the car to wave and throw some peace signs at the cameras. You wanted to show off today’s outfit anyway.

“SM Entertainment, please,” Minho said to the driver once you slammed the door shut and sidled up next to him in the backseat.

“SM?” you asked as the car started moving.

“You have an off day, right?” he asked, looking at you hopefully. “Do you want to come to see me practice, maybe? You could even meet the members.”

He was looking at you with his shining, big doe eyes that you couldn’t deny him. “Of course, that sounds like fun. I don’t have any other plans today.”

“Perfect. They know we aren’t actually dating,” Minho explained. “They might tease you about it though, especially Kibum. They keep saying that it’s only fake dating ‘for now.’” Minho made some quotation marks with his fingers.

“I can handle it, don’t worry,” you said, patting his leg lightly next to you. You had been fake dating now for three weeks and had become good friends. You were both comfortable with each other, and you didn’t overthink the simple gestures. You were just friends. He bounced his leg up and down in response, a nervous habit, you noticed. You decided to break some of the tension that had accumulated in the car by asking, “So what are you practicing for?”

He told you all about the upcoming album concept and the work that had gone into it, explaining that he even had contributed to writing some of the raps for this album. You let him talk excitedly about SHINee and the comeback the entire car ride, glad to see him so passionate about a project. And when you arrived at SM headquarters, Minho guided you up to the large and open practice room where the whole dancing team and the rest of SHINee itself were waiting.

“Oh, ho, ho,” one of them said when Minho walked in with you. “It’s Minho’s lover,” he cooed.

“This is Key, or Kibum,” Minho said, introducing him to you. “He’s the one I warned you about.” He gave Kibum a pointed look.

Kibum raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, it’s not just me. You two are literally holding hands.”

You and Minho both rapidly glanced down and realized that you were - indeed - both holding hands the entire time up to the practice room. You let go first, wiping your hand on your legs. “Oh, we just forgot.”

“Uh-huh,” Kibum said, not convinced.

“Anyway,” Minho interrupted loudly. “This is Jonghyun, Taemin, and Onew - or Jinki.” He gestured to each of the members who waved and bowed slightly to greet you.

“Hey, everyone,” you said awkwardly waving back. “I’m–”

“We’ve heard all about you, don’t worry,” Taemin interrupted, coming up to Minho and nudging him in the side. “Minho won’t stop talking about you.”

“I– that’s not exactly true,” Minho said, nudging Taemin aggressively back and giving you a sheepish look.

“All good things,” Jonghyun said, coming up to you. He examined your face. “You picked a real winner, Minho.”

“Stop it! You guys!” Minho was practically wrestling with Taemin at this point.

Jinki came up beside Jonghyun. “Let them breathe,” he said pulling Jonghyun away with him towards the center of the practice room. “Sorry about that,” he called back to you.

Minho had managed to throw Taemin off of him now, and he looked at you with concern. “I’m so sorry. They’re so much work.”

“Not as much work as you!” Kibum called from the opposite side of the practice room.

Minho huffed out in frustration and ushered you towards the side of the practice room, some chairs set up already. “Just ignore them and everything they said before. I really don’t talk about you that much. I promise. Just a decent amount, you know, like how much friends talk about each oth–”

“Minho.” You held his shoulders to stop him from rambling. “It’s okay. I’m flattered, honestly.”

Minho’s cheeks reddened a bit and he bowed his head in embarrassment. “Okay, then I’m glad. I better, um, get to practice,” he said, pointing towards the rest of the dancers all warming up in the center of the room.

“Go, go. I don’t wanna hold you up,” you said, shooing him away. You watched the rest of the dance practice and caught up on social media at the same time, feeling Minho’s watchful gaze on you every once in a while and shooting him an encouraging, friendly smile whenever you noticed.

-----

“Woah. Easy there, buddy,” you said, pulling back on the reins of your horse. You turned him around in place, letting him walk a little bit and release some energy, and caught Minho’s eye as he mounted his own stallion. “Can’t believe we’re finally doing this.”

“On SM’s tab and everything!” he said excitedly, grabbing his horse’s reins securely. “I finally figured out how to finesse that.” Minho smiled at you, pure bliss and excitement on his face.

“Mr. Choi here tells me that he’s done this before,” the specialist who had helped you mount the horses said. He stood in front of both of your horses, lightly stroking their muzzles. “So just follow the path and call us if there is an emergency. Service still works over there.” Then he patted the horses and walked away.

You looked over at Minho quizzically. “Have you really done this before?”

“Um…maybe once or twice,” he said pulling tighter on his reins and clicking his heels to get his horse moving. You noticed some other riders from the corner of your eye filming you with their phones. The public had found you, and before the end of the date, you would both be trending on social media again. It was just the way it worked with these public dates.

You followed quickly behind Minho. “You said that so we can be alone, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.” He dragged it out teasingly. “If not, there’s just this random trainer with you the entire time. It’s so awkward.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, following Minho onto the trail. The first stretch was just an open field, long grass flowing in the wind on either side of you. You felt the steady hoofsteps of your horse, rocking you back and forth rhythmically. “Well, it’s nice to get some time alone with you.”

Minho’s horse stepped on a rock and almost slipped. He pulled back sharply on the reins, willing him to stay upright. Once he steadied himself, he carried on stepping carefully. “Ranger, be careful,” Minho warned stroking his mane. “I agree though. About the alone time,” he responded quietly to you.

You both trotted side-by-side along the field in comfortable silence, hearing the soft hoof steps of your horses on the well-worn dirt path beneath you. You turned around to see how far the ranch was behind you, and at this point, it was just a speck far in the distance. “Looks like we’ve gone pretty far.”

“Oh yeah,” Minho said, turning back to see as well. “I got us the longest trail.” Then you heard his phone ding with a notification, and he reached into his jacket pocket to pull it out.

“Hey, no texting and driving,” you laughed.

“I can multi-task,” he said, moving both of his reins to one hand to check his phone. He rolled his eyes when he read the text.

“Who was it?”

“Kibum,” he sighed out, stuffing the phone into his pocket again.

“What did he say?”

“You don’t want to know,” Minho said, looking away at the trees that had started forming overhead as the trail entered a forest area.

“But I do,” you whined out playfully. “Your friends are so much fun.” After that first meeting in the practice room, you had gone a few more times with Minho to SM on your off days, enjoying talking with the members. They still always teased that you were actually dating, but it didn’t bother you. It seemed to really bother Minho though, you noticed. “Is it about us actually dating?”

“Yes,” Minho said curtly.

“You know, it’s okay if they think we’re actually dating. I mean, so does the rest of the public,” you said with a slight laugh.

“But we aren’t really,” Minho said softly, staring unblinkingly at the reins in his hands.

“Right,” you said, looking away too. It just got awkward very fast. You changed topics. “So, anyway, have you watched that new Netflix drama yet?”

The rest of the date went by like it usually did, both of you casually conversing like friends did as you walked through the entire two-hour trail. At one point you both decided to test your limits and attempted to gallop across the field back to the ranch. You both laughed hysterically when Minho’s horse stayed parked and refused to do so, settling for nothing faster than a trot. Minho wanted to switch horses with you but you told him no, insisting that Ranger was the perfect horse for him: stubborn and handsome.

But that awkward moment from earlier stayed in your mind. You hadn’t really talked about when the fake dating would officially end…or if it even would in the first place. You side-stepped the question whenever Lily brought it up and avoided the awkward situations with Minho. But what did you both want?

These thoughts haunted you for another busy week filled with long days of shooting and interviews. You were only able to see Minho one time that Saturday, and he kept saying that it was going to be a “fake date to remember” every time you called.

“What’s so special about this date?” you asked the day before you were scheduled to see each other.

“You’ll see,” he said. You could hear some singing and talking in the background. He must’ve just finished recording. “I went all out for this.”

“Is it on SM’s tab again?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

“Well, yes,” Minho said. “But it was all my idea. You have to give me some credit.”

“I’ll give you credit when I see what you have ready. For all I know, you’re taking me to a street stand to eat tteokbokki.”

“Wait, actually that’s a good idea,” Minho said.

You laughed in response. But then you caught Lily waving you over for the next scene you had to shoot and said, “Okay, I gotta go now. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye! Have fun shooting,” he said excitedly. And right before he hung up, you could’ve sworn you heard him make a kiss sound. Shrugging off the way your heart raced a little at the thought that he had sent you a kiss over the phone, you ran over to meet with Lily and start the scene.

When Saturday rolled around, you sipped on your iced coffee as you waited outside your apartment lobby for Minho to pick you up. He said he wanted to drive this time, and you were excited to be in the front seat for once. You watched the sun slowly set over the city buildings across from you, illuminating the street in a soft halo of golden light.

You finished up drinking your coffee and threw it out, thinking about how Lily always warned you against having caffeine in the evening. But your entire day of shooting was so long and draining that without any caffeine you could fall asleep on your date with Minho. Minho was so excited for this date the entire week that you couldn’t fathom doing that to him.

Just as you thought that you saw a sleek red sports car pull up on the curb in front of your apartment building. Grabbing your things, you went outside and let out an impressed whistle when you saw the car. “Wow, nice ride.”

Minho stepped out from the driver’s seat, beaming with pride at your reaction. He walked around the front of the car, touching the front of it delicately. “Right? Just finished paying her off,” he said, taking your hand and courteously guiding you into the passenger seat.

You waited for him to get into the driver’s seat before asking, “So…where to?”

“Still not telling you,” he said as he turned on the car and smoothly started driving. “Buckle up because it’s a good forty-five minutes away.”

“God, are you taking me to some abandoned warehouse or something?” you said with a laugh as you clicked your seatbelt into place.

Minho only hummed out in response, eyes focused on the road. “It’s a surprise, I told you. Now put some music on or something. It’s too quiet.”

“You got it, babe,” you said jokingly, reaching over to connect your phone to the aux. You glanced over and saw Minho tense a little at the nickname and quickly added, “I mean fake-babe.” Oh no, he didn’t like it.

Minho forced out an awkward chuckle. “Fake-babe, that’s funny.” His eyes did not stop staring at the road in front of him, and you decided to ease the tension with some upbeat songs from your playlist.

Most of the ride went on in comfortable silence. You made the occasional comment about the surroundings, noticing that he was driving you outside of the city. Maybe he really was taking you to some abandoned warehouse…

“Minho?”

“Hm?” he responded, glancing over at you as he drove.

“Will you tell me now where we’re going, please?” you asked, with the whiniest baby voice you could muster. The sun had set by now, and everything around you was dark, save for the road immediately in front of the car, lit up bright from the car’s headlights.

“Fine, since we’re basically here now.” Minho turned the car left, pulling into the parking lot of a large domed building. “We’re at a planetarium,” he said gleefully as he parked the car close to the front doors. You could faintly make out a sign at the front that read in big letters “National Planetarium and Space Museum.”

“Why a planetarium?” you asked once you both had exited the car and walked together to the doors.

“Because we’re stars!” Minho smiled proudly at his joke as you went inside, the cool rush of the air conditioning giving you goosebumps.

“You’ve been waiting to say that, haven’t you?” you teased, nudging his arm next to yours softly. You looked around and realized the entire place was empty. But the lights were on and the doors were definitely unlocked. “Minho, where is everyone?”

“I rented the place out,” he said, back turned towards you as he studied the directory.

“You– what?” you asked incredulously. “You didn’t have to do that, Minho. We could’ve been seen in public here.”

“I’m tired of everything being for the sake of the public.” He seemed to find what he was looking for on the directory and, satisfied with himself, turned to look at you, holding his arm out. “Let’s do something alone for once.”

“Okay…” you said with some hesitation as you locked arms with him, letting him guide you through the museum. Wasn’t the point of the fake dating to be seen in public? You didn’t say that out loud though, focusing on how soft Minho’s skin felt against yours instead.

He walked you both past statues of planets, diagrams of the constellations, and even some interactive space arcade games for kids to play. When you reached a set of large double doors with a sign saying “Show Room” above it, Minho pulled open the doors and led you inside the pitch-black, mostly empty room.

“I can’t see anything,” you said into the darkness, holding on tighter to Minho’s arm just in case you tripped on something. “Is there even anyone here to work this room?”

“They told me how to do it. Wait here,” Minho said, untangling his arm from yours and leaving you standing. You let your eyes adjust a bit to the darkness but still couldn’t see past your own two hands. Minho turned on his phone flashlight and you saw him working behind a desk with buttons and screens. “I think I just need to press this.” He pressed a button, something beeped, and the dome above you lit up with hundreds of fake stars. “Ta-dah!” He turned off his phone flashlight so that the only light came from the stars.

You admired the sky above you, the stars twinkling beautifully. “This is amazing, Minho,” you said, feeling him come up beside you again.

“It’s nice and peaceful. Just us two.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, still in awe at the realistic night sky overhead.

“This is what the sky above us actually looks like without any light pollution. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It is,” you said, reaching out and holding Minho’s hand in yours. The moment just felt right.

You felt his breath hitch slightly. He cleared his throat. “Well, I figured we could have a picnic here. If you want, that is.”

“Of course. That sounds nice.”

Nodding slightly, he let go of your hand and reached into the tote bag he brought down from the car to pull out a large blanket, laying it down at the center of the room. “There. I didn’t bring any food so it’s just a picnic blanket, really,” he said with a small laugh.

You and Minho laid side to side on your backs on the blanket, your fingers touching ever so slightly. You felt Minho’s hand twitch. “This is a great date idea. Thank you,” you said up at the night sky.

“I felt like I had to make up for not being able to see you all week,” Minho said quietly.

“We’re both busy people. That’s just the way things are.”

“I know. I just wish I could see you more often.” His sentence lingered in the air, the implications of it too much to unpack now.

“How long have we been doing this now? One month?” You turned to your side and perched your head upon your hand, your elbow digging into the blanket.

“Five weeks,” Minho said, avoiding your gaze.

“Hm,” you said thoughtfully. “I wonder when they’ll tell us to stop.”

“What if…” Minho started. He sighed deeply but then seemed to make his mind up about something. “What if they don’t tell us to stop?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if they say it’s up to us?” he asked, turning his head to look at you now.

“Well, then I guess we decide when to end things,” you said.

“Right.” Minho turned back to look at the stars, contemplative. “I don’t want to think about that anymore,” he said after a few moments of silence.

“You were the one to bring it up,” you said, laying back down on your back and scooching yourself closer to him so that your sides were pressed together. He felt warm against you.

“Sorry, let’s only talk about happy things now,” he said. His breathing was deep and steady.

“Okay.” And so you discussed the stars above you, pointing up at every constellation you thought you could decipher and trying to explain to Minho that those stars definitely formed the Big Dipper. After an hour or so of talking underneath the stars, you sat up, rubbing your slightly aching back.

“Does your back hurt?” Minho asked, concerned.

“No, it’s okay. I’ve just been laying down for too long.”

Minho immediately sat up and reached over to rub your back lightly. “I can give you a massage if you want,” he offered, his voice shy even in the silence of the empty planetarium.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You adjusted yourself so that your back was to Minho and felt him start massaging your shoulders and neck. His strong hands went deep, rubbing away knots that had accumulated over weeks of stress and work. “Wow, you’re good at this,” you said, sighing out when he hit a particularly aching spot on your lower back.

“Thank you,” he said, continuing to massage you. “Tell me if it’s too hard.”

“Okay.” He massaged you for a few minutes in comfortable silence, until you said, “That’s good. Thank you.”

He let go of your shoulders, and you turned around to face him, both of you sitting cross-legged on the blanket under the stars. The air shifted slightly between you two, and you thought for a moment that it felt like you were both awkward school children on their first date. You held your breath, waiting for Minho to say something first.

He stared at you for a moment with those big brown eyes of his, and his voice low, he said, “I really like spending time with you. Alone.” He leaned in close.

“Me too,” you whispered out, leaning in as well. Just as you were about to kiss, the stars shimmering above you, the atmosphere perfect, Minho’s phone rang. You and Minho jerked away from each other, startled at the sudden noise.

Minho reached over to pick up his phone. “Euisoo, what is it?”

You made a point to not look at Minho, opting to examine the stars instead. They had shifted slightly from when Minho had first started up the simulation, you noticed.

“Now?” he asked into the phone. He sounded frustrated. “Okay, we’re on our way.” He hung up and almost slammed his phone onto the blanket in anger. “We have to go now. Another emergency PR meeting,” he said to you, voice all business. The mood had entirely shifted.

“This late?” you asked, getting up from the blanket and helping Minho roll it up. “That’s so weird.”

“Yeah, it is,” Minho said, trying to keep his voice level. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. We had a great time, and we’ll do this again sometime.” You both rapidly exited the Show Room after Minho turned off the stars, the sound of your shoes clicking on the floor echoing throughout the silent planetarium.

“Yeah, we will,” he said with a deep breath. “You really enjoyed it?” He looked at you in question as you walked together.

“Yes, I did. It was worth all the hype.” You looked up at him and saw him smiling proudly.

“Good,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”

You both got inside the car and Minho started it up, smoothly pulling out of the parking lot and getting onto the highway. You checked your own phone and saw a couple of text messages from Lily letting you know about the meeting. This had to do with the both of you, you thought worriedly. You shot Lily a text letting her know you’d be there soon and settled into your seat, determined to relax with Minho in the car before facing this emergency meeting.

__________

Read Ch 3: Scandal here

[unbridgeabledistances]

ian + mickeys neck (was thinking of the drunk ian fic and wondered if you would be interested in pursuing this idea further?) <3

anon i am CRYING thank u so much for this!!!! i have been feeling like i need to make my contribution to the “mickey’s neck” discourse for a while lmao and this is my opportunity (esp bc ian holding mickey in the 11x12 stills wrecked me)

in the spirit of following up 11x10 i decided to write this based on an amazing post @mickey-millagher made/a prompt that @pombby sent me about ian teaching mickey to swim at a public pool during lockdown at some point early s11- i hope u enjoy<3

(this is the tiniest notch steamier than what i usually write but it isn’t smutty fyi- tw for descriptions of choking😌)

--

There was no one at the park— the air hung heavy and humid over the empty picnic tables and wooden benches that punctuated the fields of dying grass. As much as people on the Southside were definitely not taking any part of this lockdown shit seriously, it didn’t surprise Ian how silent the public park was— there was still a scarcer number of people out on their stoops or lounging on street corners this summer. Ian guessed that the few people who didn’t think that this was a hoax realized that this COVID shit was serious enough that they couldn’t afford healthcare if they got it, or whatever— but regardless, that meant that this Southside summer was weirdly stagnant somehow, and felt different from the noisy and crowded rhythms of summers past.

It was the late morning, just as the air started heat like a convection oven as the sun rose over the skyline— and Ian had his heart set on teaching Mickey to swim today. The conversation had come up last night at dinnertime, when Debbie was complaining about the heat wave— and they had all started reminiscing about the rickety, tin-sided pool they used to put up in the backyard years ago until Carl had taken a hatchet to it when he was 11 when he was trying to tear it down. Sitting next to Mickey at the kitchen table, thighs pressed where their chairs were scooted close together, Ian had suddenly remembered his words from their road trip to the border, years ago now:

“You could try swimming across the border.”

“I never learned how, man.”

And he’d immediately opened his mouth, not catching the words before they moved from his brain to his mouth, and asked Mickey in the middle of the dinnertime chatter: “Hey Mick, did you ever actually learn to swim?”

It was funny, and arbitrary, and stupid; they were married now, but for some reason this small fact about Mickey, the fact that he used to not know how to swim and by now he might have learned without Ian’s knowledge, made something warm pool in Ian’s stomach. He’d known Mickey, and had been itching to be closer and closer to him, for a full decade—and there were still so many things that he didn’t know. And this was proof, this question that Ian still didn’t have the answer to about some weirdly fundamental aspect of Mickey’s identity— he was always going to want to keep asking things about Mickey. And he was always going to get to.

Mickey had looked him with daggers in his eyes, then flickered a defensive glance at all the smirks growing on Ian’s siblings’ faces. “Fuck you. I was doing plenty of other shit in Mexico, didn’t really get the chance to lounge on the fucking beach.”

Ian had reached under the table and placed a hand on Mickey’s knee—a peace offering, an apology for whatever Mickey-can’t-swim quips Carl and Lip would inevitably think up as a low blow the next time they all butted heads at breakfast time— but as the chatter about backyard pools and heat waves continued at the dinner table, Ian felt an idea stirring.

Which is why the next morning he’d woken his husband up by pressing a tender kiss to his jawbone, both of their skin damp and clammy from the heat in the stuffy bedroom, and whispered into his neck:

“I wanna try something today.”

Mickey’s mind had immediately veered in… other directions, his eyebrows raising in vaguely disappointed disbelief when Ian had explained his idea to go to the public pool and teach Mickey to swim with an exuberant grin on his face; but after some very enticing morning persuasion that had a lot to do with the fact that Mickey was still half asleep while Ian had pressed kisses down his spine and dragged him out of bed and handed him a pair of swim trunks, now they were at the public pool in the nearest park at midday, with Ian leading the way and Mickey dubiously and sleepily straggling behind him.

Ian slid open the lock on the chain-link fence that surrounded the pool, the same pool that was usually crawling with groups of teenagers smoking weed and toddlers in floaties who were sticky with melted ice cream on a summer day like today. And maybe he was just all hopped up on nostalgia, but Ian was feeling cheerful— there was a lightness to the blinding summer sunshine, radiating through him as it pooled on his skin, that made him feel weirdly exhilarated and giddy about teaching Mickey to swim in this grimy Southside pool, just because he could.

“I still can’t believe you never learned how to swim.” Ian said it over his shoulder as he strode through the gate, holding it open for Mickey.

Mickey just flipped him off, following behind him and setting down two towels and the 6-pack of beers he’d grabbed from the fridge as they’d shuffled out the door minutes before. Ian grinned. He knew the beers would be warm and syrupy in minutes—the air was muggy and humid, without any hint of a breeze for relief. Ian could already feel the sweat dripping down the back of his t-shirt; he peeled it off as he walked over the sunwarmed concrete towards the pool’s edge, crumpling the shirt and throwing it on top of the pile with the beers and the towels. Mickey was hesitant, not following Ian to the border of the water just yet.

“Seriously. I can’t count the number of times I was shoved into our bacteria-infested backyard pool when I was a kid. I’m pretty sure that Frank tried to drown me in there at one point.”

Mickey just shrugged noncommittally, his fingers slack around the bottom hem of his shirt and his eyes zeroing in on the pool of water. Ian thought Mickey would say something in reply— but the only sound in the air was the faint shouting of kids playing a basketball game the street over.

Holy shit. Ian had been so buoyant and excited about his nostalgia-fueled idea of going to the public pool on a summer day and teaching his husband to swim, dragging Mickey out of the house without a second thought, that he hadn’t realized it until now— Mickey was scared.

Ian swallowed down the grin that was threatening to overtake his face— one he knew that Mickey would immediately notice and hate, because he it drove him crazy when people gave him shit in vulnerable moments like this, when Mickey couldn’t do something. So instead Ian kept talking, hoping his chatter would loosen some of Mickey’s nerves.

“Didn’t you and your brothers ever go down to the other pool over on Trumbull?”

Mickey met Ian’s eyes then, raising an annoyed eyebrow. “Clearly not.”

And, okay. This was understandably bringing up some childhood shit. Ian tried to snap Mickey out of his head— he strode over to where Mickey was standing, a good six feet from the poolside, and snaked a hand onto the back of his neck, squeezing gently in what he hoped was a grounding and comforting touch that would drain the trepidation from Mickey’s defensive stance.

“One summer Debbie was so afraid of getting drowned at the public pool that she learned how to hold her breath for 4 minutes.” Ian grinned at the memory of Debbie dunking her head in a tub of water in the kitchen, making him and Lip time her. “Honestly, it was probably for the best you never went to the public pool. It was a shit show.”

Mickey scoffed, but the lightness was back in his eyes. “If I knew how to swim back in the day I probably woulda been the one doing the drowning.”

Ian barked out a laugh— and why did he immediately turn back into his 15-year-old self, with a god-awful crush on Mickey Milkovich, whenever Mick said shit like that? He pressed his lips into a smile, squeezing Mickey’s shoulder once more for good measure.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, king of the Southside. You ready to get in the water?” Ian’s hand trailed down from its grasp on Mickey’s shoulderblades, dropping to encircle Mickey’s wrist and guide him towards the water.

Mickey immediately recoiled, yanking his hand from Ian’s hold and taking a step back, squinting and holding up a hand to block the bright rays of sun out of his eyes now that he wasn’t standing in Ian’s shadow.

“Fuck d’you mean? I’m not just gonna fucking hop in there and drown. You gotta show me what to do.”

Ian grinned again, without being able to hold it back. He knew what Mickey was like when he was afraid of something— defensive and grumbly and avoidant to touch. He rolled his eyes. “Can’t really teach you to swim when we’re not in the water, Mick. C’mon.”

Ian walked over to sit on the edge, then slid his torso down into the pool. The water was lukewarm and tepid, barely providing any relief from the sticky air— but it felt nice. Ian let out a little breath of relief from the heat as he waded over to the shallow end. Mickey was still standing by the mound of the towels the ground, watching him warily. Ian raised his eyebrows.

“You coming?”

Rolling his eyes, Mickey aggravatedly pulled off his shirt, tossing it behind him— sunrays bounced off of Mickey’s pale skin, owing mostly to the fact that Mickey had barely left the house in the last few weeks because of their prolonged “honeymoon.” He slowly walked to the very edge of the pool and, in a movement that made Ian’s heart grow ten sizes, hesitantly dipped a toe into the water like a cat trying to paw at something. A corner of Mickey’s mouth flickered downwards almost imperceptibly, a worry line sprouting on his forehead.

“I don’t know, man.”

Ian breathed out a laugh. Leave it to Mickey Milkovich, shit-talking king of the Southside, to be afraid of the shallow end of a public pool. Ian reached out a hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, still smiling like a sappy motherfucker at his painfully endearing husband.

“C’mon Mick, just stand here with me first.” Ian was waist-deep in the shallow end, the water pressing against his upper thighs— he knew that at this height the water would be at Mickey’s waist, right where his swim trunks met his hipbones.

Mickey’s brows furrowed from where he was still perched on the concrete lip of the pool ledge, his two feet firmly rooted. “Explain what I gotta do first. To swim, or whatever.”

Ian blew out a breath, still grinning like an idiot. “It’s not that hard, Mick. You just gotta circle your arms and circle your legs. But you have to get in the water first.”

Ian treaded over, pushing through the water to where he could rest his upper arms on the edge of the pool beside where Mickey was standing, staring up at him with what he hoped was a convincingly pleading face. Mickey’s eyes were still fixated on the water, lapping at the pool’s edge from where Ian had rippled through it. And suddenly Ian had an idea.

With a teasing grin, he reached a wet hand out from the water and encircled it around Mickey’s ankle, splattering the concrete with drops of water. Mickey immediately jerked like an electric shock had jolted through his body.

“You gonna come in, or do I have to make you?”

Mickey tried to shake his ankle out of Ian’s grasp, but Ian had hold of him with an iron fist. Mickey leaned over and tried to swat at Ian’s arm without losing his balance on the pool’s edge.

“Cut that shit out right now, Gallagher.”

Ian just grinned, squeezing Mickey’s ankle like he was about to tug him in. “Come on, Mick.”

Mickey’s eyes widened and, just as Ian had imagined he would— he started to freak the fuck out.  

“Ian stop that shit right now, I swear to god I will fucking murder you if you—”

They were at the 6-foot marker in the pool, right where it was deep enough for Mickey to stand on the very tips of his toes; and with this knowledge, Ian tugged at Mickey’s calf— causing him to falter, his arms circling like a cartoon character before he lost his balance and crashed into the water on his side.

Ian immediately placed his hands on Mickey’s hips, standing him upright before his head even fell under the water— but Mickey was still sputtering and splashing, like the drama queen that he was. Once Mickey regained his composure and realized he was easily standing on the bottom of the pool, his head bobbing just above the water, he swiftly splashed healthy burst of water into Ian’s face, the chlorine stinging his eyes and nose.

“Fuck you, Gallagher!”

Ian coughed at the water that had shot up his nose, but immediately splashed Mickey back—and then, because there wasn’t any way this whole pool situation was going to go anyways, he and Mickey were immediately engaged in a life-and-death splash battle, circling each other in the middle section of the pool.

Ian was laughing so hard he felt a stitch in his side— and Mickey was finally grinning again, water dripping down his cheeks and clinging to his hair. After a few minutes Ian threw his hands in the air in surrender, the water cresting at his shoulders.

“Truce!”

Mickey splashed one more surge of water at Ian’s chest for good measure, grinning like a kid in a candy store— then he took a step closer to Ian, eyebrows raised.

“Truce.”

Ian beamed down at him, pressing a quick peck to the top of his damp hair. “Sorry for throwing you in the pool.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“But in my defense, it had to happen eventually.”

Mickey shoved him squarely in the chest, taking a step back. “You ruined the fucking truce.”

Ian gave a smug smirk. “Do you wanna learn how to swim, or not?”

Mickey flicked another burst of water at him, just enough to cast a slew of droplets onto Ian’s cheeks. “Alright. Get coaching, Michael Phelps.”

Ian hadn’t really considered how he was actually going to teach Mickey to swim— but it couldn’t be that hard, right? He tried to think back to when Lip had taught him how to tread water, on an equally as sweltering day in the backyard pool, when the yard was packed with lawn chairs and drunk neighbors and smelled of ashy barbeque smoke.

“Okay. So you’ve gotta move your arms in circles, kinda, to stay floating. And your legs too.”

Ian swam over to the deeper end of the pool, just an arm’s length away from where he and Mickey’s feet could touch, and tried to demonstrate how to tread water. “I feel like the easiest way for you to learn is just by doing it. C’mere.”

Mickey looked at him reluctantly, brows furrowed again in an outward display of his bundled nerves. “No fucking way.”

Ian sighed in exasperation. “C’mon, Mick. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you drown, you can hold on to me the whole time.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow— but then hesitantly took a step towards Ian, the water reaching up to the bottom of his chin.

“Alright, good. Now step where you can’t reach and try to tread water like I did.”

Mickey stepped forward again, then started to circle his arms under the water— and he was doing great, for a second, before he seemed to get too in his head about the mechanics and started to grit his teeth.

“Little help here, Gallagher?”

Ian grinned and stepped forward. “Here, you can hang onto me.” He stood where Mickey could reach and grab onto his shoulders if he needed to— but Mickey seemed to regain his confidence, and was starting to steadily, if a little bit clumsily, tread water.

He kept it up for a while, until Ian could see that he was overexerting himself— waving his arms under the water with a little too much gusto, brows furrowed and his teeth digging into his lower lip in concentration.

“Mick, you’ve got it. Chill out for a sec.”

Ian reached an arm out, a branch for Mickey to grab on to— because he had been joking before, yes, but he really didn’t want Mickey to fucking drown— and when Mickey grasped onto it, Ian pulled Mickey towards him in the water, kicking backwards so they were suspended in the deeper end of the pool with Mickey clinging to Ian’s neck.

Mickey looked nervous as Ian veered them towards deeper waters, his eyes darting from side to side where they were floating, his fingers digging into the back of Ian’s neck— and Ian smirked at how freaked out he seemed, standing only a few feet from where they could both confidently stand on the tiled pool bottom. But Mickey didn’t resist, or try to propel himself back into the shallower waters— he let himself cling on to Ian, fingers interlaced behind the tops of Ian’s shoulders, as he kept them afloat. Ian laughed softly in a warm, wet gust across Mickey’s cheek. “You okay?”

He could feel the heat radiating off of Mickey’s body, squeezing up close against him— and Ian couldn’t help it, the wave of fondness that came over him as he looked down at where Mickey was pressed against his chest; trusting Ian to keep them above the water, trusting Ian enough to go along with his stupid plan to teach him to swim in a public pool on a random morning just because Ian wanted to. Ian couldn’t help but feel warmth in his stomach at this simple moment, at the two of them bobbing in the pool— at teaching his husband to swim, something Mickey’d never gotten to do as a kid but something that they had the rest of their lives to do together.

“Maybe we could teach Franny to swim next summer. If we have our own place.”

As he said it, Ian hoped that Mickey could see the flood of hopes that he had for them in his eyes— that he wanted a place with a pool, and a balcony, maybe a backyard, and maybe even a fucking garden—he’d always wanted to grow tomatoes. More than anything he wanted to build something sturdy, that could stand up to whatever ground would inevitably shift beneath them in the years to come— he’d been thinking about that a lot these days, especially with all of the pandemic shit that had pulled a rug out from under this entire neighborhood.

Mickey’s gaze flickered up from where it had been boring a panicky hole in Ian’s sternum, meeting Ian’s eyes at the phrase “our own place”— and Ian instantly knew that he got it, that he could see the dreams that Ian was building for the two of them right in front of their eyes. That after months and years of obstacles and chaos and other voices infiltrating their heads, now it was just them— now it was just Ian and Mickey, clinging to each other and drifting through the calm, chlorinated waters.

And maybe it was their proximity, or the intensity Ian knew he was pouring out in his gaze, but instantly the air between them shifted as Mickey looked up— starting to hang heavy like the press of the humidity in the air. Their faces were centimeters apart— and Mickey’s lips parted slightly, his eyes now cast downward at Ian’s lips. Ian could smell the sweet, warm beer on Mickey’s breath, mingling with his own; he looked at Mickey, whose arms were still wrapped around his neck, water dripping down his face from the hair that was fanning over his forehead—and Ian just had to pull him in, had to place a hand in the damp hair at the nape of Mickey’s neck and tug him closer, backing them against the tiled wall of the pool.

Ian could taste the faintest bitterness of chlorine on Mickey’s lips, from the water droplets lingering there, as he took Mickey’s bottom lip between his teeth. Mickey’s hands were still limply wrapped around Ian’s neck, keeping himself afloat— even though Ian had backed them against a wall in the shallow end of the pool again, and Mickey could probably touch his toes to the ground if he wanted to.

Ian raised his hand from under the water, wanting Mickey closer— he pressed a hand to the side of Mickey’s neck, slick with water, and slid a thumb over Mickey’s collarbone, pressing down with the pad of his fingers.

And Mickey gave a little involuntary noise from the back of his throat, sending a jolt down Ian’s spine.

Ian’s hands circling Mickey’s neck was definitely not a foreign concept while they were kissing—  it was something they did a lot these days, especially as their hours in bed had taken a turn from the crazed, I-missed-your-body-so-fucking-much sex they were having in the beginning days of being in prison together and those early months after Mickey had gotten released— but both in prison and during this fucking quarantine, they’d gotten a bit more experimental, and a bit more reckless—especially before Ian had gotten his warehouse job and they were still on their structureless “honeymoon,” spending entire days lounging in bed.

It was those days of lazy, languid kisses, after years and years of already knowing each other, that Ian realized that he was maybe a little bit obsessed with Mickey’s neck. He’d always joked about liking Mickey’s legs, and that was true too (if he was being honest, there wasn’t a part of Mickey’s body that didn’t make his blood run hotter)— but the first time Mickey had grabbed Ian’s hand and put it up to his neck while they were tangled together, pressing down until Ian’s hand covered most of his throat, Ian knew that they’d opened Pandora’s fucking box.

By this point, Ian’s hand was pretty much always on Mickey’s neck at some point while they were fucking or even just making out— if he was being totally honest, Ian’s hand was on Mickey’s neck more often than not in lots of contexts these days, once they realized how much they both loved it. But there was something about this current moment, of Mickey wantonly desiring a point of contact there, right now, while they were very randomly and decidedly making out while floating in a public pool on a lazy weekday afternoon, that made Ian’s blood run hotter than usual, and rush quicker through his veins.

Ian let the pads of his fingers creep up the velvet skin of the side of Mickey’s neck, pressing a little deeper, a prelude— he could feel the vibration of Mickey’s heartbeat starting to flutter from where Mickey was still pressed against his chest, still clinging to his neck in the water.

They’d already extensively discussed limits and everything, Mickey would tap his wrist twice if shit got too intense— but even with that in mind, Ian pulled apart from Mickey for a second, trailing ghosts of kisses up the side of his neck and nipping at the underside of Mickey’s jaw. Mickey stretched his neck back and gave a little involuntary sputter of a moan, bubbling out of his mouth before he could stop it. He fisted a hand in Ian’s hair, at the nape of his neck, and leaned forward again to press their lips together with more fervor.

Ian pulled back again, his upper back resting against the concrete lip of the pool. Mickey looked disheveled and wrecked, half-dry chlorine-crusted hair sticking up from where Ian’s other hand had been cradling the back of his head, his blue eyes gleaming and catching the over-bright summer light. Mickey was still clinging his arms around Ian’s neck, holding on— they were in a fucking pool, and Mickey still couldn’t really fucking swim yet— and even though they were standing in a place where Mickey’s toes could certainly touch the ground, the whole thing felt weirdly insular and intimate, like they had to cling to each other.

Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian, like he was daring him to keep going.  

Ian leaned forward, breathing heavily into Mickey’s mouth, but not pressing their lips together yet—and he reached a hand up again, against Mickey’s tender skin. Mickey’s legs were wrapped around Ian’s hips now, locked like a vice to keep himself upright in the water— and he pressed a little harder, gently pulsing at the sides of Mickey’s neck, in tandem with their lips pressing together over and over again as the warm waters surrounded them—the whole thing, the whole combination, made Ian feel indescribably floaty and weird and warm and blissed out; his skin stinging like ice and fire at every point of contact, electricity  zapping his nerve endings wherever his fingertips met Mickey’s skin. Mickey fisted his hand harder at the back of Ian’s hair, nodding slightly—and they were definitely not going to fuck here, in the filth of a Southside public pool, but this insular closeness, the knowing what they both wanted to right now, was equally as thrilling and fulfilling to Ian in the moment. He could almost feel his own heart beating, reverberating as it pressed against Mickey’s chest, vibrating straight through Mickey and back to him as they clung to each other in the water.

Mickey’s body was thrumming, letting out little gasps of breath between kisses and touches—and Ian pulled back and dragged his lips down the side of Mickey’s neck, inhaling the sunwarmed skin. Fuck. He was never, never going to get enough of this.

**

Later, they’d dragged their water-heavy limbs back through the still summer streets to the Gallagher house, their skin pink and their bodies exhausted from soaking up the sun— and they’d collapsed into bed, feeling the dried chlorine coating their skin.

Ian reached a hand up, rubbing a thumb over Mickey’s cheek, their bodies pliant and fatigued— and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Thanks for letting me teach you how to swim.”

Mickey had smirked. “Yup, that was definitely the only highlight of today. Swimming.”

[mammonshuman92]

- Watched - Pt.3

(Mammon x GN!MC)

**TW: cussing, stalking, kidnapping, religion, 

Note: C/N (coworker name)

-

“Man, I’m starvin���. What’s takin’ so long anyway?” He grumbled, remembering the whole ‘first name basis’ thing with the delivery driver. 

He was laid on his back across your bed scrolling through social media, impatiently waiting for you to return. His stomach started to growl.

“Maybe I should go check? But, MC said to stay here so no one could see me.” He said to himself, a slight pout on his lips.

He heard a small shuffling noise come from the living room, it sounded like a paper bag crinkling.

Ok, ya got the food, now don’t be tryin’ to chit chat MC, I know how ya are. I’m dyin’ in here!

The bedroom was a straight shot down the hall from the door, making it impossible to sneak a quick peek without fully exposing himself.

He could hear you talking back and forth with...Alex. He huffed to himself remembering your chumminess with the take out guy. Something just seemed weird to him about the whole thing. 

Somethin’ is fishy about him always havin’ MC’s route or whatever. Does nobody else deliver for that place? I bet he’s got a crush on MC or somethin’. 

“I’ll kick his ass.” He said out loud, his own thoughts making him sour.

He listened again, trying to hear what was being said. He couldn’t hear any actual words, but he could hear Alex’s voice. Barely, though.

Wait a minute.. Is he whisperin’? What’s he gotta say to MC that requires whisperin’?! I gotta get outta here.

Mammon was getting himself worked up, assuming this delivery guy was confessing his love to you. He’d nearly convinced himself to march out there and confront the creep. To hell with staying hidden!

Before he could blow his cover, he heard something hit the front door followed by more shuffling movement. He calmed down a bit, thinking the noises he heard were of you getting the food inside and trying to kick the door shut.

He impatiently waited for you to call out, telling him the coast was clear and that he could finally come eat. But, you didn’t.

After a couple minutes passed with no new noise, he grew slightly anxious.

He stood up and started pacing beside the bed, feeling antsy.

C’mon, MC. What’re ya doin’? I’m witherin’ away! Before long I’m gonna shrink up and turn into a Little D or somethin’..

Suddenly, he heard voices again. Well, just the delivery guy’s voice, still a hushed tone. He groaned to himself.

“If he don’t hurry up and go away, I’m gonna eat him instead.” He grumbled quietly to himself.

Something didn’t feel right though. Why was Alex’s voice the only one he heard? It had been at least five minutes since he heard you say something. It’s not like he just missed what you said because you were too quiet for him to hear, or you just chose not to contribute to the guy’s conversation.

You always talk, to basically anyone you come in contact with, never really knowing a stranger. He’s pretty sure you haven’t gone five minutes without talking since he met you. That’s why it seemed so weird to him. 

That alone wasn’t really enough to expose himself though, was it? 

To say you’ve been through a lot lately is an understatement. You’re sleep deprived and your nerves are shot. With everything that’s been going on, it would be more weird if you didn’t act a little different. He didn’t blame you for not being your usual self.

He still couldn’t shake this feeling though.

A sudden, loud noise outside got his attention.

Was that a car door?

He moved quickly, putting his back against the wall, scooting over to the doorway.

“MC? Is he gone?” He whispered.

No answer.

Screw it.

Very slowly, he peeked his head around the corner, careful not to be seen.

“MC?” He whispered again, louder this time. 

Still nothing.

Somethin’ is definitely wrong..

He fully emerged in the doorway, eyes darting around, taking in his surroundings. As he quickly made his way up the hall, he noticed the door standing wide open. He could see that an older model car was parked in front of the house and you were no where in sight.

Hand still on the door knob, he turned around to call out into the house, “MC, where ya at? Ya know ya left the door-”

Before he could finish, the car outside suddenly accelerated, kicking up dirt and rocks as they sped off.

What the..?

“Guess he didn’t like his tip..?” He whispered to himself.

He shut the door and turned around slowly, only taking a couple steps before he came to a stop. He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling he had.

“Oi, MC! D-don’t ya know you’re supposed to answer when THE Great Mammon calls for ya?” He waited, but the house was still. All he could hear was his heartbeat in his ears.

He walked further into the house, quickly looking around the kitchen before heading back down the hall.

Why ain’t they answerin’.. c-could it..? Nah..

“This ain’t funny ya know..” He called through the house, hoping that you’d somehow slipped past him. 

Again, he was met with bone chilling silence.

Slowly, he started piecing all the little weird things that didn’t make sense together like a puzzle. The silent house and wide open door, abandoned food, the car speeding away.. 

The same delivery guy somehow always having this route...

His heart sank.

No, no, no, no!

He ran from room to room in a panic, desperately calling out to you, begging you to answer him.

This ain’t happenin’.. They gotta be hidin’ or something. Yeah, that’s it!

“MC! Where are ya? Talk to me, please!” He screamed, voice breaking around the hard lump forming in his throat, tears beginning to prick at his eyes.

No, it can’t be.. It can’t be..

With trembling hands, he dug his phone from his pocket, quickly dialing your number.

“C’mon, pick up. Please, please pick up.” He pleaded as he paced the floor.

His stomach dropped when he heard it ringing within the house, quickly following the sound until he found it on the coffee table where you had left it earlier. He stood there unmoving, staring at his picture and contact name with hearts on the screen, tears streaking down his face.

The weight of it all came crashing down like a tsunami, forcing him to his knees. With his face in his hands, he sobbed uncontrollably.

I shoulda listened to my gut when I thought somethin’ was wrong! Why did I wait so long to look for ‘em?! He took MC, he took MC! Dammit!

How did he let this happen? He was right here, right here, and he didn’t sense the danger. He couldn't protect you again, letting you fall right into the hands of the psycho creep who had been relentlessly harassing you, who was planning to do who knows what.

He had to do something. Anything. 

Get the hell up! Ya gotta go find MC NOW! There’s no tellin’ what this creep is gonna try.

He stood up and wiped his face, trying to compose himself as he switched into demon form.

“I can still catch ‘em!” He made a beeline for the door, stopping abruptly as he reached the thresh hold.

“Wait, it’s the middle of the day and this ain’t the Devildom. A demon flyin’ around on a man hunt would be real bad.” He thought aloud.

People would most likely panic and if history proves anything, nothing good ever comes from humans when they panic.

He had to try and think rationally, as hard as it was. He wanted to rush in and save you as quick as he could, but going in blind without a decent plan could get you hurt...or possibly worse.

He switched out of demon form and moved back into the living room, trying to come up with an idea.

Your phone was here so he couldn’t have you tracked by GPS and he didn’t remember much about the car except that it was older. He didn’t even know what the guy looked like since he’d had to hide. All he knew about him was his first name and that he worked at a restaurant. 

“The take out place would for sure have everything about him on file!” He quickly punched in the name of the place into his phone’s search engine, then suddenly paused.

“Wait a minute..I can’t just waltz in there and ask for someone’s personal info. They’d call the cops or somethin’. Damn!”

He was beginning to feel hysterical. He didn’t have much to go on and every idea he came up with was crap. A few ‘ding’ sounds from the coffee table tore him from his thoughts. It was your phone.

Someone named C/N had sent you a couple texts about work and judging by the text log, you talked to them often.

“Man, I hope this C/N knows somethin’ cause I’ve got nothin’ else to go on..” 

Luckily, he remembered the name of the coffee shop, having heard you talk about work often. A quick internet search and he had the directions. He was out the door like a shot.

With his newfound breadcrumb, he was one step closer to finding you.

-

A bell chimed above the door when he entered the shop, alerting the worker behind the counter of his presence.

“Hi, how can I help you?” They greeted him as he walked up to the counter.

“Hey, is there a C/N here by any chance?”

“Oh, uh, yeah just a sec.” They went through a doorway behind the counter, returning moments later with another person in tow.

“Hello..? I’m sorry, do I know you?” They asked, approaching Mammon, visibly confused.

“No, but you know MC, right?” He asked, uninterested in beating around the bush.

“I’m not sure I can answer that.” They said cautiously, visibly tense.

They do know somethin’.

“Here, look.” He said, pulling up the gallery on his phone, showing them multiple pictures of you and MC together.

“Oh, so you’re the boyfriend. MC has told me about you. Uh, anyway, is there something I can help you with? I need to get back to work..”

“Yeah, has MC ever mentioned anythin’ about a guy named Alex before?” He asked.

Please, please, please

“Alex..Alex..” They repeated, tapping a finger on their chin as they thought it over. “They did, actually. We went to the movies about two months ago, and ran into a guy they knew. It was their usual deliver guy I think? Said his name was Alex. He gave me the creeps.” They explained.

“Why is that?”

Yes! We’re gettin’ somewhere.

“He just seemed..I don’t know, off? And when I met him, I actually remembered seeing him a few days earlier on my way to work. There was another A.T.A. protest and I saw him in the group demonstrators. He denied being there when I brought it up, saying it had to be his doppelganger or something, but I know it was him. When we ran into him at the movies he said he had just got off work, and he was wearing the exact same shirt and hat as the day of the protest.” They informed him.

“Wait, A.T.A.? What’s that?” He asked curiously.

“Anti-Treaty Association. They’re exactly what the name suggests. Everyone involved in the exchange program is public knowledge. Names, pictures, updates on how the program was going, etc. All easily found on any search engine. If he is part of the A.T.A., why would he be friendly with MC? There’s no way he didn’t know who they were.” They said.

This Alex guy is definitely the stalker. I bet if I dig into this A.T.A. I can find him..

“Alright. Thanks for your help.” He said as he turned to leave, C/N took a few steps after him.

“Hey, uh, is MC okay? I know they haven’t been themselves lately, but uh, you coming here and asking all these questions kinda scares me..” They admitted, fear for their friend written on their face.

“MC is uh, goin’ through some stuff. I’m gonna put an end to it though.” His voice was rough, angry. His face however, was full of desperation and sadness.

Mammon thanked C/N again for their information and left the coffee shop on a new mission. He uncovered another piece of the puzzle, new information that could lead him to you.

No one knew exactly what this guy was capable of, but he had the most important piece of Mammon's existence with him. There wasn’t anything he wasn’t willing to do, in any realm, to bring you back safely. He would breach the Celestial Gates without thinking twice if it would bring you back to him.

He was going to show them exactly why he's the second strongest of the seven rulers of the underworld.

I’m comin’ MC. I will find ya, I promise.

-

“Get out.”

The scorching heat inside the trunk made you nauseous, and severely thirsty. You felt weak and disoriented, unable to move much. You weren’t sure how long you had been stuck in there before you finally felt the car come to a stop. The lid opened, blazing sunshine poured inside the dark space, making your eyes water and squint reflexively.

“I said, get out!” He screamed.

He wrapped his hand around your wrist hard and yanked you from the trunk, letting you drop to the ground. You were much to weak to try and brace yourself so you fell pretty hard, getting small scrapes and dirt on your elbows and forearms.

You tried to open your eyes to try and get an idea of where he had taken you, but before they could adjust to the blinding sunlight, he tied something around your eyes.

“Can’t have you trying to escape.” He said to himself, as he finished tying up your hands. The restraints were very tight, already starting to hurt your wrists.

“I’m not going to.” You said weakly, your words making him laugh.

“Well, at least your a smart demon slut. Somewhat, anyway.”

Honestly, you weren’t planning to escape. If the opportunity presented itself, you would make a run for it, but you weren’t actively looking for an escape route. However, you had no intention of giving this creep what he wanted, or giving up without one hell of a fight.

Pulling you by the restraint around your wrists, he began to drag you across the ground. He let go of you a minute or so later. He didn’t drag you very far, ending up in some kind of building judging by the change in temperature and the rough feeling of concrete beneath you. It felt a little cooler in here as if you were out of direct sunlight, but the air was still fairly hot and sticky.

You did your best to pay attention to the things around you. The sounds, smells, what little you could feel. Outside you could hear cows in the distance and some kind of humming noise. It was definitely hot, but more like that humid feeling before it storms. You could also smell it too, the incoming rain. That warm earthy smell.

You could hear Alex nearby messing with something metal, there was also the sound of running water somewhere close.

I can’t believe Alex was actually the stalker this entire time... Explains how pictures taken of me from outside my house though.. I wonder what he plans to do..

You promptly chased away those thoughts in order to keep yourself calm, replacing them with thoughts of him, the time you’d spent together along with all the memories that came with it.

How soft and fluffy his hair felt when ran your fingers through it. The way he smelled; not the Devilish No.5, although you did love it, it’s smell closely related to the famous human world version, but his smell. Crisp and clean like fresh laundry or new clothes, slightly smoky like leather because of his favorite jacket and small undertones of warm cinnamon and vanilla.

The always groaned about your selection for movie night but was the first one to get really into it. Having a concert while cooking when you had kitchen duty together, getting in trouble for talking and laughing in class and later being scolded by Lucifer for it. How he always used to complain how bad humans smell, only to find out he started buying your brand of body wash for himself and would also try to casually smell his hoodie after you’d worn it.

The thought of never seeing him again, never experiencing anymore memories like these or the chance to make new ones, kept haunting you. A hard lump was forming in your throat, tears beginning to prick your eyes.

“Aw, what’s the matter darlin’? The abomination you chose as a lover isn’t rushing in to save you like Prince Charming? Imagine that.” He spat. 

You ignored his sarcastic comments, wanting answers of you own, “Why are you doing this?” You could hear him walking toward you, his footsteps getting louder as he approached. The sound stopped abruptly, then he crouched down next to your head.

“I told you, you need to be cleansed.” His tone was very matter-of-fact.

He grabbed your wrist restraint again and drug you another ten feet or so. Easily picking you up and hoisting you into the air until the rope around your wrists caught on something. He let go, your full weight coming down on your restraint. You were suspended in the air, feet barely skimming the floor. 

He checked your ropes to make sure it was still secure with the added weight and gravity, then he removed your blindfold. The sudden change causing you to blink several times.

Your previous assumptions had been right, you appeared to be in a warehouse that had been abandoned for quite some time. Most of the windows were broken, big vines and other foliage creeping into the building. The rusted remnants of machinery scattered around the large, open room. You looked above you to see that you were hanging from a large hook that was suspended by thick chain from a metal beam up above. Far to your left you could see what looked like a large pool or even one of those big basins you usually use to water cattle, with a hose draped over the side. There’s the source of the running water you heard.  

Wait...a stock tank with water, ’cleansed’...is he going to..baptize me?

“Cleansed? That’s been mentioned quite a bit in the dozens of letters I’ve been getting. Well, you would know, huh? Since you’re the one behind it all. What I don’t understand is why?” 

It came off as more sarcastic than you intended, but you didn’t really care. You had been terrified for weeks about the stalker. What would they do when they finally got to you? You haven’t truly felt alone in over a month, as if someone was always hiding in the shadows watching, waiting. Your anxiety has been through the roof and you’re in a nearly constant state of paranoia and fear. 

But, now that he was in front of you, you didn’t feel scared. You wanted answers.

“Because they don’t belong with our kind. Uniting our realms is blasphemy and will throw the human world into chaos.”

‘Don’t belong with our kind’..? Whoa, what the hell..

“Blasphemy? But, the Celestial Realm is on board with it. The angels in the exchange progr-” He cut you off before you could finish, his sudden booming voice echoed through the spacious warehouse, startling you.

He stood with his back to you, facing a long metal table that looked as if it used to be a conveyor or some other piece that once belonged to one of the old machines inside the long forgotten building.

“The exchange program was a joke! Those devils just needed a good cover to get their claws on our realm so they could take it over! Using their dirty tricks and magic to bring corruption and pollute us with sin.” He stared you down like a mad man while he yelled.

This was so bizarre, he sounded insane. Like, one of those people that wore tin foil hats. This version of Alex, the real one, was scary. You would’ve never guessed in a million years that this guy was the same one that you talked about the weather and current events with a few times a week.

“None of that is even remotely true! They just want to bring peace among the realms, to prove that they are not what all the harmful, hateful rhetoric claims they are. So we can all just co-exist! That was the entire point of the exchange program! To learn about the Devildom; it’s people and culture.” You fought back.

His face twisted up in disgust, visibly becoming more and more agitated every time you spoke. He stalked closer, stopping maybe six feet in front of you, staring at you intently.

“That kind of thinking is exactly why you need to be cleansed. You’re a human, or has being a demon whore and becoming the embodiment of sin made you forget that? You are nothing but a weak, powerless human to them. A pawn in their bigger plan, collateral damage if things went wrong.” 

You never cared what assumptions people made or the rumors they started regarding your stay in the Devildom. However, when the very demons you loved and cared about became the subject of people’s whispering, you were willing to fight with no intentions of backing down.

You, out of everyone, who had to live in the House of Lamentation for a year, escaped death from a couple of the brothers, helped them mend familial bonds, and held pacts with all of them, should know better than anyone, exactly who they are.

“You don’t know anything about them!” You yelled lurching forward as you filled with anger, lightly swinging back and forth where you were suspended, the thick chains above you clanking, “The things they’ve been through, they things they’ve seen. The sacrifices they had to make..” You heart ached for them. What happened during the Great Celestial War, their fall.. They’ve been through a great deal and they, along with the rest of the Devildom, are undeserving of such prejudiced hatred. 

“Being demons doesn’t automatically mean they are bad people, just like being human doesn’t make you good.” You stared him down, lacing venom in your words. He squinted his eyes at you, unhappy with your implications. “That fact was thoroughly proven during my time there. Some of kindest people I have ever met, as well as the people I love and cherish the most, are demons.”

You would forever stand behind the program, your now second home, and all the friends and loved ones you made along the way. No matter what this psycho could come up with, you would not be swayed. You knew them for who they are, all Alex knew was hatred.

He scoffed at your words, walking toward you as he shook his head in disgust, eyes boring into yours. He stopped just inches in front of your face. You held onto your resolve, staring back at him intently, not letting him see that you were completely terrified. It’s what he wanted; to feel superior and pass judgement on those he deemed unworthy.

You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction though; to feed his ego, his delusions. You refused to bow to fear, instead giving it all you had to make sure that if this was how it would end for you, you would fight against his prejudice and hatred until your final moments.

“We will start with the normal cleansing.” He backed away from you, confirming your suspicions as he gestured to the stock tank. “Although I think your soul might be too far gone for it to be completely effective.” He smiled wickedly as he turned around, going back to the table he’d been at earlier and picked up the same knife he’d held to you when he kidnapped you. The only other weapons you could see on the table were a baton and a taser. There was also a thick book you could only assume was a bible and a large jar of water. The most concerning however, was the gas can, thick work gloves, and what looked a lot like a body bag.

“This may call for a more extensive purification.” 

PART FOUR COMING SOON!

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Happy Thansgiving!

This year is going to be weird. The Macy’s Parade is going to have no audience. Just people dragging balloons behind them in the empty silent streets of Manhattan. 

I’m still going to watch it though. But whether you’re alone or with annoying family we all need an escape. So here’s a list of Thanksgiving themed fics for you. 

Thank you to anon and @nerdherderette​ for their contributions! 

Vendsgiving (AKA Derek and Stiles Meet at an Airport on Thanksgiving) by jsea

(1/1 I 5,571 I General I sterek)

Derek already hated traveling, so getting stuck in the airport overnight? And on Thanksgiving no less? That was going to be a nightmare.

Then Derek met Stiles.

early worm gets the bird by joosetta

(1/1 I 5,862 I Explicit I Sterek)

In which Stiles sends Derek a dick pic, Derek has no idea what to do and ends up having to cook Thanksgiving dinner as a result.

can't be hateful, gotta be grateful by HalfFizzbin

(1/1 I 6,260 I Teen I Sterek)

"Be cool, Dad, we've decided to con Grandma."

(Or, the one where the Stilinski men drag Derek to Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma's and she gets the right wrong idea.)

you never said a word by cnomad

(1/1 I 6,867 I Teen I Sterek)

Slowly, but surely, they worked themselves around the circle of chairs until eight sessions after the first they finally found themselves sitting next to each other.

(Or the one where Derek and Stiles meet in a counseling support group for teens)

Written in the Stars by Quixoticity

(6/6 I 26,586 I Mature I Sterek)

Derek Hale is a lucky guy. He's got a great family, good friends, and a fulfilling job as a tattoo artist.

He's also one of the twenty-five per cent of the population born with a soul mark.

He likes his life, but he's waiting for his soul-match. The odds of meeting them aren't great but hey, Derek's a lucky guy. He has faith.

He can't believe how good his luck really is when one day his soul-match wanders right into his studio, all long limbs and copper eyes. There's just one problem: Stiles is there to get his soul mark covered up. Permanently.

DILF by twentysomething

(1/1 I 30,871 I Explicit I Sterek)

"Today is Scott's first day of kindergarten and Derek is terrified."

Cupboard Love by mklutz

(2/2 I 32,682 I General I Sterek)

He’s carefully balancing the sandwiches and the two biggest tupperware containers he could find that both had functioning lids when the front door opens and he almost drops everything right there in front of the stupid fountain.

If that’s Derek Hale, he’s definitely not a mountain man.

The Moon's Gonna Follow Me Home by turningterrific

(2/2 I 82,886 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek doesn’t want to call the window repair guy. He doesn’t want to sweep up the glass. He’ll inevitably miss a few shards and pull them out of the bottom of his bare feet for weeks.

He doesn’t want to try to make this place feel like home when it isn’t.

Derek stayed in Beacon Hills and tried to make it work because he wanted pack, wanted purpose. He gave his best effort and found himself back where he started: alone, with a few begrudging allies. He’s tired, and even though his werewolf body heals quickly, he feels the weary ache down to his center.

He packs his car with the few things he cares about enough to drag them from place to place. He locks the loft and calls a realtor about listing the building he’d bought in a misguided attempt to secure a future.

And then he leaves.

Cornerstone by Vendelin

(6/6 I 83,738 I Explicit I Sterek)

Suffering from PTSD, ex-Marine Derek Hale moves back to Beacon Hills to open a bookshop and find a calmer life. That’s where he meets Stiles, completely by accident. Stiles is talkative, charming and curious. Somehow, despite the fact that he’s blind, he’s able to read Derek like no one else.