#but we move!!

[forgave-me-not]

I DON'T THINK I LIKE YOU ANYMORE ☆ B.S.

Ben would sew you into the fabric of all of his clothes if he could. But alas, he cannot, so kissing you is the next best thing. Now he just has to figure out how to do it. word count: 3.2k warnings: fluff, like two curse words, a bit suggestive at the end

There's flying - with its long lines, endless bag checks, whining children - and then there's waiting on a flight. Today, you've been placed in the latter category, patiently waiting for your best friend to come home. How long had it been since you'd seen him? Two, three months? It didn't matter. What you did know is that his presence was sorely missed.

You and Ben had managed to do almost everything together - from growing up to playing sports and attending the same college. But that was before the world was big, before things were different. He had his own thing now, something you could only observe from afar. And as much as you loved that he'd found success in his niche, you were glad he was taking a break and finally coming home.

You'd paced the waiting area near the terminal for nearly 45 minutes. I look antsy as hell, you thought as you glanced at your watch again. You weren't nervous. That's impossible. It was just Ben. You simply hadn't seen him in a while. It wasn't anxiety; you had a lot of pent-up enthusiasm that needed to be let out in one way or another. Still, you looked wound up. You sit down and look around at the people around you. A mother feeds her toddler some animal crackers. Hmm, maybe she's waiting on her part-. Before you can finish your thought, you see that familiar form striding its way over to you, and you're back on your feet in a flash.

He's wearing a baseball cap, typical Ben, but you can see his face perfectly fine. Eyes just as bright, smile just as toothy. He's been just fine.

You walk around the young man, looking for any discrepancies.

"Why are you appraising me like some prize-winning bull," Ben said, slightly amused at you circling him in close inspection.

"I've gotta make sure you're all here," you declare, looking up at him. "Did you get taller?"

"I dunno. Let's get outta here, you little scumbag," Ben says with a laugh.

"Anything in baggage claim," you ask in an attempt to check off all the boxes he could miss.

"Nope."

"Alright then," you say with a smile. Ben wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls his carry-on with the other as you lead him toward your car. You lean into him, wrapping an arm around his waist. He smells familiar with his sandalwood cologne and shea butter lotion. Oh, how you missed that smell.

The two of you make it to your car, an older model SUV your dad had handed down to you once you'd turned sixteen. There were a lot of memories in that car, some you and Ben swore to never speak about again. The sound of the trunk slamming snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Geez, Benjamin. Always so rough," you remark with an eye roll.

"My bad, my bad," Ben says defensively, putting his hands up to show he's genuinely sorry. You shake your head and lean against the driver's side door.

"The sky looks beautiful," Ben says quietly, leaning beside you. He was right. The red, orange, and pink shades made the surrounding area look otherworldly; not even the sounds of planes taking off and the nearby highway could detract from it. Ben tore his eyes away from the sky and glanced over at you. He bit the inside of his cheek. "Pretty," he whispered, not meaning to say it aloud. "Hmm? What'd you say," you said, taking your eyes off the drifting clouds. Ben froze, feeling his face get hot. "Um, nothing. The sky's pretty, that's all."

"Oh...alright. Well, B, the sky is wonderful, but I've gotta get you home." You turn to open your car door, but a firm hand reaches over and closes it. "I don't want to," Ben whines. Sometimes, you're shocked he's actually twenty-one years old. You cock an eyebrow at the hand on your car door. Ben quickly removes his hand and clears his throat.

"We haven't seen each other in a while, and besides, I have like two weeks to be home. Let's do something." His arms are crossed, Ben's signal that no will not be an answer that comes out of your mouth.

"You sure? Not too tired from your flight," you say with furrowed eyebrows.

"Nuh uh. Besides, I need a burger."

"Ugh," you groan. "I oughta make you drive." Ben lets out a laugh and spins you around in excitement. He quickly trots to the car's passenger side, opens the door, and plants himself in the seat, adjusting it for his long legs. You laugh. Like a child. "You're a punk, you know that, Shelton," you say accusingly as you start your car and back out of the parking spot.

The two of you sat in one of those authentic American diners. There was a coffee pot on every table, paintings of the food they served on the windows, and floors that were a bit slick from the kitchen grease. Ben had smashed his burger in five minutes flat; he'd said something about missing seed oils and red dye. You'd snorted and told him he better appreciate it since you were paying.

The waitress came over with the chocolate milkshake you had ordered. You thanked her and stirred the drink. Ben was attempting to build a pyramid out of toothpicks. You smile at him.

"So, how's the tour going," you ask, sipping your drink.

Ben leans forward against an elbow and begins to trace the squares of the checkered pattern on the table. "Good. You win some, you lose some, but it's fun." He picks at the fries he didn't eat and flicks the salt off his fingers. "But we always talk about me. What's up with you?"

A grin spreads across your face. "Well, there's this guy," you start. Ben's nostrils flare. He sees a flash of confusion on your face and tones down his obvious displeasure. You let out a slight cough and continue. "He's in my World Philosophies course this semester, and uh, he's pretty cool." You say the last bit quietly, sensing that Ben is judging everything you say and do. Honestly, you only brought it up because it was the first thing to come to mind. You didn't want to discuss the guy anyway, so you changed the subject.

"I kept the letter," you said casually before taking a long slurp from your milkshake.

"What?"

"Remember when you had that phase of sending people handwritten letters?" Ben nods. I only wrote you letters, though, is what he wanted to say. You always talked about the men in those classic books you love to read writing letters.

You smile and reach into the pocket of your jean shorts. Out came a folded, yellowed piece of paper.

"I usually carry it in my wallet, but I wanted to remember to show you. God, your handwriting was so funky."

"Was not," an embarrassed Ben responded, putting his head in his arms so you wouldn't see him blush. The tips of his ears were still red, though. You giggle.

"Was too, you bum."

"I was nervous, okay. What 19-year-old is sending handwritten letters nowadays anyhow," Ben stated, rolling his eyes. You tilted your head and pointed at yourself. "Uh, this guy." Ben let out one of his signature laughs, and one of the veterans sitting at the counter turned to look at the two of you. Ben shot him an apologetic look and turned back to you.

"I'm ashamed to admit that I barely even remember what I wrote," Ben said, running a hand through his hair. The waitress came by and placed the check on the table. Before you could do anything, Ben put his card down.

You chuckled. "Well, let me read you my favorite part to jog your memory then." You cleared your throat and began:

"Something you said once popped in my head after the win today. You told me that when I matured, I'd be a great; how do I do that? I know that we're thousands of miles away, and you'll probably be asleep or out to lunch when this makes it to you, but I promise now, right now, that I'll be great, for you, ok?

And I wanted to say that I miss you — like, a lot. Take care of yourself; I'll be home soon."

You didn't even need to unfold the paper; it was imprinted on your brain from reading it over and over.

"Wow. I really wrote all that, huh," Ben murmured with a smile. Damn, she really likes that letter. Didn't even glance at it. He picked up his card off the table and signed the check. "Huh, maybe my handwriting is a little funky." You grinned, threw a ten-dollar bill on top of the tab, stood up from the table, and headed out of the restaurant. Ben jogged after you.

"Wanna do something fun," Ben asked, a little out of breath from chasing after you.

"You wouldn't know fun if it spit in your face," you quip back, letting your Southern accent come through.

"What about, I don't know, carnival fun?" He smirked and pointed at a sign across the road. You stood on your tip toes to look over his shoulder.

CARNIVAL IN 3 MILES!

"Good grief, always dragging me into something. You're driving this time, by the way." You threw your keys at his chest and tried to hide your smile.

All carnivals smell alike. Animals, fried food, sweat, and vomit will always produce the same odors, no matter where you are. But the scent that hit your nose, nor the joyous screams and yelling, didn't dampen your mood. The multitude of necklaces you wore clinked as you bounced on your toes.

Ben hands the man at the ticket booth a twenty, and the two of you make your way inside. "Here." You hold up Ben's hat. "Might wanna put this on."

"Oh, thank you," he says as he bends down. Understanding the message, you push his hair back and snugly put the hat on his head. "There you go, B."

Neither of you wanted to do anything particular, so you just milled about looking for things to do. Ben beat you at the high striker, but you got him back with your perfect shot at the duck shooting booth. He was now, begrudgingly, lugging around your three-and-a-half-foot panda for you while you snacked on cotton candy.

The sun sank behind the treeline, but it was still sweltering with the humidity and the other sweating bodies surrounding you. Ben watched as a bead of sweat rolled down your neck. He swallowed thickly and shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts. After meandering around a bit more, both of you grew tired of walking around and decided to sit down. The benches near the food trucks make for a perfect spot; you could watch people, Ben could watch you.

You scanned the area. A little girl wailed at a game booth nearby. Ring toss. But she's so tiny. You looked at the two adults beside her, most likely her parents. They appeared at their wit's end and on the verge of breaking down themselves. You glanced over at the bear. He still needs a name. Oh well.

"I'll be right back," you told Ben, who looked at you confused. Grabbing the panda from the spot next to you, you adjusted the straps of your tank top and made your way over to the family. Her parents noticed you first. "Is it okay if I talk to her," you asked with a sheepish smile. "Be our guest," her mother said, surprised.

"Hi there. What's your name?"

The girl sniffled and wiped her nose. "Maia."

"That's a beautiful name. Well, Maia, I won this panda right here, but I think you could use it more than I could. You have to promise me one thing."

Maia nodded enthusiastically, very ready to receive a stuffed bear almost as big as her. "Promise me that you won't give up so easily. And don't make things too hard for your parents," you said with a soft smile.

"Yes, ma'am. I promise," Maia said sweetly, tears all dried. "Are you a fairy," she asked as you handed over the bear. You barked out a laugh. "I guess I am now, sweetie. Bye for now. And be good." Maia grinned up at you and hugged your legs tights. You bent down to hug her back and glanced at her parents. "Thank you," her father mouthed at you. "No problem," you whispered back. Maia waved at you and skipped back to her parents. You waved back and turned around to where you were sitting.

Ben sat with his head against his hands, grinning like an idiot. "What are you looking all dopey at," you asked him. He stood up and looked down at you. "Just watching you. It was cute, that's all."

You chuckled as you walked away. "You sound like a creep out of context," you called over your shoulder. You walked for a bit and then stopped in front of the Ferris wheel. The bright lights and colorful seats swinging caught your attention. The sun had set, and the wind was finally picking up. You closed your eyes and rocked back and forth on your heels, humming a tune. Ben studied you from the side. All of your piercings. How your thumbs hooked around the belt loops of your shorts. That tattoo on the back of your elbow.

"Shit," Ben sighed. "I'm not sure I like you anymore."

Your eyes snap open as you turn to look up at him, the colored lights of the carnival dancing across your face. "What," you say incredulously.

"I said," he says with a drawn-out breath. "I don't think I like you anymore." A mischievous smile spreads across his face, adding to your confusion.

"What the hell is he on today," you murmur. Ben steps in front of you and places his hands on your shoulders. "What the hell am I on? You're what I'm on, that's what." He sighs. "And I'll shout 'Hey, I love this girl' from the rooftops if I have to. What can I say? I'm in love with you. Who in their right mind wouldn't be?" You push him off of you and put your hands on your knees. Ben's face drops from excitement to worry, worry that you might hate him and never see him again after his very public confession. But all of his anxieties are soothed once he hears your laugh. "Ben," you say through incessant giggling. "You're such a dork." The man frowns at you like a sad child.

"I'm sorry for laughing, B," you say, looking at him. "Come here." And it's the first real hug either of you have had all day. Ben feels you press your ear into his chest. "Are you listening to my heartbeat," he asks with a confused smile. "Yeah. Just want to make sure you're real before I say anything else." You give him another quick squeeze before stepping back. "I love you too, Ben. With all my heart."

"Promise? You're not lying, are you?"

"Pinky promise, baby. You know I don't lie to you."

"Yeah, I know." He had that dopey look on his face again. He really is in love. I got lucky.

"Let's continue this conversation in the car, shall we?" Ben asked as he wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your forehead.

"We shall," you said with a smirk.

The cooler temperatures of the night had brought out the crowds. Still, neither of you would be there long enough to experience the carnival full of people. Not that it mattered anyway. There were more important things at hand.

Ben held your hand and led you through the droves of people back to the entrance. You watched his broad shoulders move under his t-shirt as he uttered his apologies and excuse me's to passersby. When you made it out of the gate and to the parking lot, which was really just an empty field, it took everything in you not to break out into a sprint. You wanted to scream and dance and cry all at once, but you suppressed those feelings and calmly walked to your car.

Ben led you to the front of the car and patted the hood, requesting that you hop up. You obliged and sat face to face with your best friend, the man you loved. He smiled and bit his bottom lip. "You're so pretty," he whispered before taking your face in his hands. "Hmm, you should see yourself," you hum.

"What? You think I look pretty?"

"I always think you look pretty."

You caress his face and look into his eyes. The two of you stare at each other for a beat. Ben quickly gazes at your lips, breaking eye contact first. Having had enough of the silence and suspense, he leans in and kisses you. You snatch his hat off and throw it on the windshield behind you to keep it from being awkward. Ben smiles against your lips. The kisses are soft, like he doesn't want to break you. His lips trace your cheeks, jawline, neck as you whisper sweet nothings in each other's ears.

"Could y'all get a room or something," a voice calls out, bringing you back to reality. Ben bristles, and you hide your face in the crook of his neck from embarrassment.

"Jesus Christ, Robert. Leave them alone; they're just kids. Besides, you're the one invading their privacy. This parking lot is empty, hon." The man mumbles something to his wife.

"Sorry, dears. This old man won't bother you anymore. Have fun," the lady says as she drags her husband to the ticket booth. You lift your head from Ben's shoulder and wave at her shrinking form. You turn back to Ben, who's trying his hardest to stifle his laughter, and you smile. "Here, I have a better idea," he says. Ben helps you down from the hood of the car and leads you to the rear door of your vehicle. You grabbed his hat off the windshield before either of you could forget. He opens the door and swivels his head to face you. "Only if you want, of course."

You looked down at the ground, suddenly shy, and nodded. "Yeah. I want to." Ben beamed at you before moving over to let you clamber in ahead of him. He climbs in and shuts the door behind you. Once again, you two are side by side, face to face. Ben's fingers snaked under your tank top and traced patterns on your lower back.

"So, what exactly is the plan," you asked softly, gazing into his eyes.

Ben leaned in to kiss your neck. "I was just going to figure it out as we went," he said, kissing behind your ear. "If that's ok."

"That's perfect," you hummed, running your hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. The two of you were in your own little world, and neither had to tell a soul. It would end up as just one more secret that your car would have to keep.

author's note: finally getting this out of my system lol. can't believe I wrote all of this, geez

[amorettopedri]

anyway a win is a win x

[singsweetmelodies]

not dead, not ignoring you on purpose, just very busy 😔

[wishfulmuses]

🚢

scourge x fiona :33

From: (x) Accepting!

do i ship our characters together?: yes | no | not yet but maybe soon

would i like to ship with you?: yes | maybe, i'm willing to try | no

type of relationship i could see: childhood or high school sweethearts | exes | engaged | married | long-term relationship | crushes | unrequited love | fling | long distance | online relationship | just dating | new relationship | toxic lovers | friends with benefits

tropes i'd enjoy writing for them: friends to lovers | enemies to lovers | exes to lovers | fake relationship / dating | forbidden love | grumpy and sunshine | star-crossed lovers | surprise pregnancy | second chance | soulmates | amnesia / mistaken identity | forced proximity | secret relationship | slow burn relationship

would i rather plot first or jump right in and see where it goes?: develop their relationship first | jump right in | something in between ( what specifically? )

what now?: let's plot something | send me shippy memes | i'll send you shippy memes | write me a random starter | i'll write you a random starter

anything else i want you to know about me / my character / my shipping habits: While secret relationship is obvious... they totally started out as a fling until they started to genuinely become close and visibly attached to each other, Fiona esp since she literally helped broke out her husband boyfriend out of jail..... if that's not true love then I don't know WHAT is. /silly.

[swaggypsyduck]

WE'RE SIGNING MR SEXY LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOO

[jcamilov06]

eagles intercept the ball 😤 bucs intercept the ball 😭 bucs fumble the ball 😶 eagles recover the ball 😤

[tigressjasper]

image i am in love with

[marzipanandminutiae]

"hey why are all the barrier garments like linen shirts or chemises or combinations going away?"

"oh we have more washable fabrics now! you don't need to worry about sweat reaching your outer clothing when you can just chuck it in the washing machine!"

"cool!"

[100 years later]

"so uh all of those new washable fabrics are leaching microplastics into our water, and the constant machine-washing wears garments out faster. they're also not really sturdy enough to be mended, so we keep having to throw them out and now the planet is covered in plastic fabric waste that will never break down. also it turns out that the new washable fabrics hold odor-causing bacteria VERY well. so could we get those barrier garments back please?"

"sorry babe linen now costs $100000/yard and since it's been so long without them, nobody knows how to adapt barrier garments to the current styles anyway"

"..."

"maybe try this new $50 undershirt made of Special Sweat-Wicking Plastic Fabric! :) :) :)"

[fairydrowning]

– Noor Unnahar, Instagram account "noor_unnahar"

[TEXT ID: / [Lemons] / My father's mother loved lemons. Years after her passing, / we run out of everything, but never / lemons. / Nothing else shelters grief / better than memory. / It's my father way of saying, / even in your absence, you will be / cared by me. / END ID]

[cuntymarxism]

Taking a five hour coach to go end my relationship. Ngl I have cried so much about this this past week but I feel so at peace/free about it now

[lonepower]

yes i Am paying real money to make you all look at our new dog. we've had her for 3 hours and if anything happened to her I'd kill everyone in this room and then myself. her name is Tater Tot

[thesaltyace]

Y'all I did NOT know this about Harris, and I think it's really critical that we all listen and understand as we approach this election. Video at the end.

This creator's video describes how progressive Harris was as a prosecutor -- actively going against the grain to the point she was accused of being soft on crime. Accused of being a social worker, not a prosecutor. She calls it being smart on crime. She's pushing for systemic changes to give real pathways to reintegrate incarcerated folks back into society and prevent their past from continuing to haunt them moving forward.

"Kamala's a cop" is a catchy dismissive response usually used to shut down conversation rather than add nuance. But this kind of reform is ESSENTIAL to work towards a present and future that treats incarcerated people with value.

I fell for it in 2020 and have thought "Kamala's a cop" without further inspection since - and I'm sobered by the realization that (you guessed it!) I'm not immune to propaganda.

A better system only follows liberal democracy, because library democracy allows for exploration of better systems. If authoritarianism takes hold, it will not allow for the exploration of better systems. We will have to fight tooth and nail just to try to get back to liberal democracy, and I suspect we could not achieve it in our lifetimes.

Harris isn't perfect. But she's a hell of a lot better than many leftists have led me to believe. Don't let perfection be the enemy of good. Don't let perfection be the enemy of harm reduction.

We can either help elect Trump and usher in authoritarian fascism, or we can help defeat him and pull things back in the direction we want to go. Not liking the choices doesn't absolve you from participating and doing the most good you can with the options available.

I'll link the original video in the replies. The original video has captions if you need them.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Scott Cawthon’s version of FNAF Burntrap..

[fanaticalthings]

While I do find it funny that henchmen in Gotham probably warn each other about the Red Hood because he's a bat who will actually kill you. I think it would be better if Jason was actually seen as some sort of savior or idol to like 90% of the goons scattered around Gotham. Doesn't matter who they work for, they all know Jason, former crime-lord that took over majority of Gotham's underground in one night.

---

Jason, years after the events of UTRH, now fighting crime alongside the batfam, except every goon he runs into immediately recognizes him, stops fighting, and starts begging.

the first time it happens, Jason assumes they're begging for their lives only to hear them begging for him to return to the crime lord business so they can work for him and not Gotham's current money-stingy, abusive rogues (Black Mask lol)

---

Jason showing up to patrol as backup for Dick in an overrun warehouse full of Two-Face's henchmen and as Jason's about to interfere, one of the men stops dead in their tracks and stares really hard at Jason until:

Goon: Oh my God, boss, is that you?

Jason, pulling out his guns, about to shoot:

Goon: Mr. Hood, sir???

Jason, halfway about to pull the trigger: Wait a min–Jeremy? Oh wow, it's been ages! How's the wife?

Goon (Jeremy): Oh my God it IS you, holy shit where have you BEEN? Me and the guys miss you, man!

Dick, with a knife at his throat: What is happening right now

Jason: Ahh, well, crime-lording just wasn't fitting in on the daily schedule. Tryna turn over a new leaf and all that

Goon (Jeremy): Aw, that's disappointing. We really liked working for you, right guys?

[Chorus of enthusiastic "YEAHS" from the rest of the henchmen (even the one holding Dick at knifepoint)]

Goon (Jeremy): Well, anyways, I can't beat you up knowing you're my old boss! You gave us the best health benefits! We'll just let you take the evidence and leave.

Jason: Aw, thanks guys :)

---

And that's why 95% percent of Jason's missions in Gotham end in success. Not because he's willing to kill people or because rogues are terrified of him, but because 90% of the rogues' henchmen once worked for Jason and fuckin love him lol.

[birdmans]

ALICENT + AEGON, HELAENA, AND AEMOND

[min-play]

they grow up so fast

Animation by: Isabella Spagnolo Instagram

3D model, animation by: tanu_tato Twitter Instagram