#just saw him at a local fish store

[bettafishblr]

Angy >:(

[anony-mouse-writer]

grian as the strange man who appears suddenly on gem’s dock with no explanation. no one knows who he is.

no one saw him arrive and he has no car.

he’s never bought anything from the store, and a few locals said they saw him simply cooking and eating the fish he catches on the spot.

the only belongings he seems to own are his fishing gear.

when asked where he lives, he points to the cliff. there is a tiny blue house there, balancing precariously on wooden stilts. the house has never been there and no one’s seen it before, but the local gas attendant pulled up a 40 year old photo of her grandma on the beach, and sure enough, the tiny house is there, a wee speck of color hanging like a barnacle on the cold, wet bluff.

the age of his mysterious little home aside, no one’s sure when he visits it. he’s at his little dock before the earliest ships cast out, and the sickly glow of his lantern can be seen long into the coldest of nights.

the man has pulled the strangest things from the ocean. fish, to be sure, but other, stranger things. lily pads, far from their native biomes. fishing poles, tattered and worn, of various makes and styles- some look positively ancient. boots. giant shells with twisted patterns to match no living thing. a genuine horse saddle once. bowls. a bone that looked just a bit like a human femur.

and books. perfect, unblemished books, nearly glowing with some kind of energy and filled with a script both unfamiliar and unsettling to see.

he opens them each with a breathless anticipation that tastes like brine or maybe tears.

but whatever he sees in them is not what he wants, and each book is tossed aside with resigned disgust and something like despair, before the weathered pole is taken up to cast a line to sea once more.

[sunsetchicane]

Postcards - Part 2 [LN4]

lando norris x [travel] journalist fem!reader

find the series here

word count: 7.3k

summary: The one where it's six months later and you still find yourself thinking about him. Maybe a another fated meeting will be the second chance you need.

warnings: fluff, banter, yearning, an unrealistic portrayal of London [probably], sexual innuendo, maybe a kiss or two idk, and...angst

author's note: Heyyy team. Back with another part for you. I think I really like this part and I hope you all enjoy! As always, feedback is appreciated!! So please feel free to leave any questions/concerns/comments you have. I hope you like it and keep your eyes peeled for what's coming next! Lots of love! [xoxo elle]

Summer Break July 2022

When walking down Camden Market, you can’t help but feel tucked into history. Life bustles in the walkways. Mothers corral starry-eyed children. Small bunches of friends are bent over their drinks while they taste each other’s. Couples promenade languidly, hands folded together and heads leaned in. Everything and nothing at all happens at Camden. Time stands still, holding tightly to memories and secrets. The brick that makes up the streets and walls stands proud and true, veterans at their trade. Music floats out of shops like dandelion seeds on a summer’s breeze, planting itself wherever fate leads.

It’s only your second day in London. You arrived late into the afternoon yesterday, not feeling up to checking out the subject matter of your project after traveling. Instead, you checked into the small townhouse that you’d be staying at for the duration of your trip and then wandered about the streets of London. You’ve never been to London before, but it was exactly as you’d imagined it. Tall red buses perused the streets. Towering buildings loomed over skinny walkways. But your favorite sight was the sun slipping just below the horizon, relinquishing the world to dusk, and the street lamps casting a warm glow over the summer night. 

Today, however, you weren’t wandering the winding streets of the city, you’re acquainting yourself with one of London’s most well known attractions: Camden Market. When you were young, you saw pictures of it in some magazine you’d found in your school’s library. You’d adored the way the market looked on the page and promised yourself that you would see it for yourself someday and take pictures of your own. And now you are. The dream of a little girl flutters in your chest. You clutch onto your camera as your fingers tremble from the weight of your emotions. You really made it.

Closing your eyes and sighing, you bask in the moment for a second longer before fishing out your phone from your pocket. The market just opened, so you have the entire day to explore and find your story. The history of Camden is so rich that it can be found around every corner, tucked into every shop, and, most importantly, etched into the memories of the people. 

Piecing together a story with stunning visuals here is difficult not for the lack of inspiration, but for the over abundance of it. How you’re going to choose what to share with the world, you have no idea. 

This isn’t your first story with your publication, but it is your first major one. After working on small, local pieces, your boss finally caved and gave you a real assignment. It came in a nick of time, too, because you’d been getting antsy about staying in one place for so long. You needed to get out. But, there’s a lot of pressure to rise to the occasion. If you don’t do well on this piece, who knows when the next time you’ll be assigned something like this again. 

You move through the market, stopping to watch or take pictures or talk with a shop owner here and there. The hustle and bustle keeps you moving, the current of moving bodies too strong to fight.

After a few hours of nonstop walking, you have dozens of ideas scribbled down and photos stored in your camera. You have a few specific shops and names written down to revisit when you come back with a more detailed idea of what your story is going to look like. The thoughts swirling through your brain move at lightspeed.

The only thing that breaks your intense concentration is the wafting smell of cooking food. Involuntarily, your stomach grumbles and your mouth waters at the savory smell. The only part of Camden that you haven’t sampled yet is the food. Suddenly, you’re desperate to find wherever that smell is coming from. You don’t think you’ve ever inhaled something so lovely.

After tucking away your notebook and slinging your camera off to your side, you hold your backpack over a shoulder and begin seeking out your lunch. There are a dozen different places to choose from, each producing a signature scent that crawls into the walkways. Signs that don each of the shop’s names does nothing to help you decide, everything speaking to your stomach in a different way. Frustration grows inside of you, fueled by hunger. 

But then, as if the universe had a plan all along to keep you exactly where you were, you see him strolling down the walkway. Lando. Your breath catches in your chest, leaving you feeling lightheaded. Jaw slack and eyes wide, you take the sight of him.

His eyes are following the line of shops over his shoulder, seemingly focused on whatever they have to offer. He’s wearing a pair of jeans that hang from his hips and slouch against his sneakers. His plain black t-shirt hugs his arms and chest, but falls a little looser around his middle. To complete his look, he has a beat up black baseball cap atop his head. It pushes down his curls, framing his neck with soft brown coils. Even from this distance, you can see that his hair is much longer and healthier than when you saw him last.

The first thing you feel when you see him is immense exhilaration. Never were you expecting to see him again. After sending him his print and a postcard, there had been little in the way of communication. A few weeks after sending the package, you received a follow request from him on Instagram. Battling yourself for all of two seconds, you accepted it and then accidentally began stalking his page. He had posted a story only a couple minutes before requesting to follow you. Opening the story, you had found your photo of him tacked up on a wall in his home. 

“My good side. Or so I’ve been told.”

The caption on the story had made you laugh. Staring at your phone, grinning like a fool, all for a boy a thousand miles and a different destiny away. 

Following each other had been the only movement on either front. For a few weeks, you’d pull up his DM and write out message after message. Not one was ever sent. There was no reason for you to reach out to him. Plus, you didn’t know if he even wanted to hear from you. Following you on Instagram is a far cry from being cool with what happened between you half a year ago.

The night you spent together, though it was cut short, still haunts you and holds you.

You had been somewhat keeping up with this season of Formula One just to have a way to stay connected to him in a way. Even if you couldn’t see him or speak with him, at least you could watch from a distance. Every time you’ve tried to stop, tried to forget him, you’ve been unsuccessful. All of your tactics that you’ve been practicing your whole life haven’t been able to eradicate Lando from your system. He’s a bad habit that you can’t break. 

You want him in a way that you’ve never wanted anything before. Slowly, you’re creeping to the edge of your own rules, wondering what fate looks like on the other side.

But, reality comes crashing in when his eyes lazily flick up to yours and the elation that was just coursing through your bloodstream turns icy cold. Terror seizes your chest in an iron grip. You can’t move, you can’t breathe, you can’t even run. 

For a moment you both stand still, completely frozen in time while the world continues on without you. People rush in and out of view, obscuring your vision in millisecond intervals. Everytime you lose sight of him, you wonder if he’ll actually be there. 

He is. He’s really there.

And now he’s walking toward you.

A million questions rush through your head in a panic. Is he still upset at you? What is he going to say? Will you be able to say goodbye again?

Caught in the spinning of your own thoughts, you miss him drawing closer and closer with a stupid grin splitting his face. When you finally snap back into reality, he’s standing right in front of you.

His arms wrap around your waist, hoisting you into the best hug you’ve ever experienced. Hands down. With his touch, every single thought, anxiety, and question evaporate. There’s nothing in this world except for the way his hands hold your waist and his arms flex against your back.

Dropping your bag from your shoulder, you can’t help but toss your arms around his neck, hugging him right back. Smiling wildly, you push your forehead into his shoulder. Your nose fills with the scent of him, sending you reeling all the way back to six months ago when you saw him last.

While you’re in his arms, it feels as though no time has passed. It’s simply the day after you met, both of you ready for your next adventure together.

Together.

The word feels odd to you. It’s so unused in your life. You’ve always been alone. Growing up in the foster care system, you never stayed with someone long enough to use the word ‘together.’ So, there’s never been a desire in you to ever experience ‘together’ with someone. Until now.

“Hi,” Lando says warmly. You can hear the smile in his voice. A rush of heat paints your cheeks red as you pull away from him. As much as you want to keep your hands on him, you drop your hands from his neck and take a small step back. He lets his hands slip away from your waist, your body suddenly cold from the lack of his touch.

“Hi,” you respond, unable to remove the smile on your lips. 

For a couple of seconds you both stand in awe of each other. He’s grown so much, not that you didn’t already know that. His Instagram is regularly updated for race weekends and things in between, so you’ve watched him grow over the last six months. However, nothing compares to seeing him in person. The shitty part is that he looks so damn good. How are you supposed to say goodbye to that face, that smile, again?

“I can’t believe this,” Lando says while adjusting his cap that was thrown askew by the brute force of your embrace. “How have you been?”

“Good,” you say while watching his hands go about their work. “How are you?”

“Alright,” he says while nodding. “But great now. It’s been ages. What are you doing in London?”

Nerves buzz in your chest and fingertips. It almost sounds like he’s missed you. You’ve missed him. You’ve never missed anything the way that you miss him.

“I’m working on a story,” you say breathlessly. “About Camden.”

His face lights up as you tell him about your time in London so far. He seems excited when you tell him that you’re going to be here for a while and are looking forward to doing a little more sightseeing when you can. His eyes are wide and bright as he listens to you. Every once in a while you get caught stumbling over your words because you got lost in the curve of his jaw, or the smattering of freckles on his face, or by those damn eyes. 

Unable to keep talking coherently, you ask him what he’s doing in London. He tells you that he’s on summer holiday and spending a little time with family. He flew into London this morning and came to do some gift shopping for his parents before driving to Bristol.

He’s standing so close to you that you could reach out with little effort and take his hand in yours. The memory of his hand ghosts along your fingers, urging you to just reach out.

But for all of your desires, you have to hold fast to what you know to be true. This is temporary. Everything between you and Lando will pass because it always does. These feelings only feel this full and vivid because he’s standing right in front of you. This is a chance meeting that should never have happened. It only makes things more complicated. 

“What are you doing right now?” Lando asks suddenly, breaking you away from planning an exit strategy. Your heart sinks to your toes. 

“I–well–” You’re floundering. You never flounder. How is this the time that you can’t come up with some witty response or a quick out?

“Would you like to grab lunch? Maybe do a little catching up?” he presses. There’s this look on his face that makes you die a little. His eyes are so bright, lit up by the softest of smiles on his face. He looks perfectly at peace in your presence. There’s a happiness that exudes from his aura, taking you captive in its warm arms.

“Yes.” It comes out in a whisper. You’re barely aware that you actually said it aloud. The answer fell from deep within your heart, spilling out because it had to. You’d like nothing more than to sit across a table from Lando and talk with him until the world comes to an end.

Immediately, you regret your answer. Agreeing to this means spending time with him and reopening the doors you’ve been struggling to keep shut. What you should be doing is locking those doors and throwing away the key. You should be doing everything in your power to do what you do best: to run. The urge is there, pulling you away from Lando and the fate that could be. The familiar safety of running away calls to you. 

But it’s counteracted by the intense desire to stay.

For the second time in your entire life and for the same reason both times, you’re split in two. War rages inside you; mind versus heart; logic versus feeling; safety versus adventure.

Lando reaches over, snapping up your backpack and hauling it over his shoulder. He sends you a wink, which you roll your eyes at. 

“Follow me,” he says while tilting his head back towards the food walkway. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth to avoid smiling like a fool, you nod your head and fall in step with him. 

Together you waltz along in front of the shops. Lando is looking down a little ways, obviously searching out a particular shop. You can’t help but be grateful that you didn’t have to choose which place to eat at. You probably would have spent the rest of the day hopping from spot to spot, tasting a little bit of everything. 

After a short walk, Lando stops the two of you in front of a small stall. With a smile on his face, he explains what the shop serves. He obviously loves the place and can’t stop rambling on about it while you stand in line. Honestly, you only hear half of what he’s saying. You’re too busy watching the way his mouth moves and how his eyes dart around and the way he moves his hands while he speaks. 

“So, what are you going to get?” he asks. You’d blanked out when he was explaining the menu to you. 

“Just whatever you’re getting. I trust your judgment,” you say while shrugging, trying to be as normal as possible. You’d rather him not know that you’ve been ogling him this whole time. It doesn’t bode well for your attempts to get over him.

“You do?” he asks with a scoff. You laugh then, remembering the ice cream incident from six months ago. His choice was less than stellar, so why would it be different now? Maybe you should reconsider your options.

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. “But I’m giving you a chance at redemption.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but he’s swiftly cut off by the woman behind the counter calling the next customer. Lando walks up in front of you and orders for the both of you. He pays the tender before circling back to you.

“No going back now,” he says while handing you a cup of ice water. Shaking your head at him, you pluck the water from his hand gratefully. 

“What do I owe you?” you ask while reaching for your wallet.

“Nothing,” he says with a smirk. You glare up at him, trying to fry that smug look off his face. The opposite happens, his smirk growing into a grin.

“I think I’ve got it covered,” he says, reminding you that he’s a millionaire with just six words. What a snob. 

“Fine,” you say while stuffing your wallet back into your pocket. “Just trying to have manners. Ever heard of them?” 

His jaw drops and his eyes narrow in a look of disbelief. He’s carrying your bag and paying for your food. He’s actually being quite the gentleman, but you still need to bust his chops a little. The smug idiot deserves it, just a little bit. Behind your amused look, there’s an affection that scares you.

Standing side by side, you wait for your food while making small talk. It shocks you how easy conversation flows between the two of you. Nothing has ever been this perfectly natural for you. It just feels right to be by his side while talking about simple nothings. 

Just as your hunger starts to crest into annoyance, Lando’s number is called. Excusing himself, he jogs over and grabs the two boxes from the counter. The smell hits you before he even arrives back at your side. It takes everything in you not to rip the paper to-go box from his hands and devour the food right there. Instead, Lando leads you both over to an empty picnic table.

Lando plops down onto the bench, setting both boxes in front of him. For a moment, you think about rounding the table to sit across from him. It would put more distance between the two of you, a safety cushion of sorts. 

You sit right next to him. 

Smiling smally, he slides your food in front of you. With a needy sigh, you pop open the box and look at the meal in front of you. It’s chicken strips and fries. Raising your eyes to the sky, you begin to pray to the powers-that-be to keep you from laughing in his face.

“What?” Lando says through a mouth full of fries when he catches you barely holding back your laugh.

“I was wrong when I called you geriatric last December. I know now that you’re actually a child.” you strain to say. Lando simply cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Hater,” he says while popping off the lid to his dipping sauce. “Would a child eat chili mayo?”

Smiling wildly, you watch as he dunks his chicken strip into the mayo. After taking a bite of it, he has a little mayo on the corner of his mouth, not doing anything to negate the child accusations. 

Instead of teasing him anymore, you dive into your own meal. You have to hand it to Lando because these are the best chicken strips you’ve ever had. You don’t tell him that, though. No need to inflate his ego anymore than it already is. 

The two of you eat like you haven’t eaten in years. He polishes off the whole box before you and waits for you to finish.

“Stop watching, you creep,” you say while finishing off the end of your fries.

“I’m not watching you,” he lies. “I’m wondering if you’re going to have that last piece of chicken.”

Rolling your eyes, you toss it into his box. With a cheeky smile, he snatches it up and pops it into his mouth. 

After you’ve both disposed of your trash, you begin taking a lazy walk around the market. There’s an unsaid agreement hanging between you to not acknowledge the fact that you’d only agreed to lunch together, not whatever this is.

“What are you doing for the rest of the day?” Lando asks while watching the shops as you pass them by. A dozen different excuses jump to the surface of why you can’t stay with him for the rest of the day. Shame fills you as you realize that your first instinct to a simple question is to get out of it. For someone who’s living is asking questions and getting answers, you’re horrible at being questioned.

There’s yet again the choice that you were poised with all those months ago. With Lando standing in front of you, do you do the right thing and say goodbye or do you say to hell with your rules and reach out. 

You’ve already tried endlessly to forget him. Maybe you just need to get him out of your system. At least that’s how you justify your decision.

“Not much,” you answer honestly. All you were going to do today was do a little more exploring before returning to your home for the next few days to iron out your story. 

Lando turns to you with a surprised look gracing his features. There’s something else there too, something that surprises you. There’s hope in the way his lips arch upwards and in the tilt of his head. 

“What?” you say in response to the face he pulled, turning your eyes from him to the scenery around you. Looking at him like this has your stomach in knots for so many reasons.

“Nothing,” He says while shaking his head. He sounds so pleased it makes your chest ache.

“If you’re not busy, I can show you around a little,” Lando says distantly while turning to examine some jewelry sold by a nearby shop. His nonchalance is transparent, a false front put up to curb his enthusiasm. In a way, it puts you at ease. You’re both going to pretend that this is just some casual meet up between old friends. If you can’t make yourself run away, maybe you can keep yourself safe this way.

“Don’t you have to get to your parents’ house?” you ask, not wanting to impose on his plans. He shakes his head, telling you that he’ll just go a little later than planned. 

“Alright,” you find yourself saying. Lando freezes, then finally turns around to face you.

“Alright?” he asks, making sure he heard you correctly.

“Where to first?” 

—

For a while in the afternoon, you stroll around the market until Lando finds a present for his parents. Once he buys it and tucks it away into your bag, he tells you that it’s time to explore London. 

He forces you onto one of those buses that has an open air seating area, informing you that it is the best way to see the streets of London. He tells you that when he was a kid, he and his friends used to come on these and mess about. You can’t help but imagine a small Lando running up and down the aisle, causing chaos with a gaggle of little boys while their parents watched on. Parts of him still hold onto that childlike joy and wonder, shining like sunspots through the man he’s becoming. He must have had a happy childhood. An ache that feels like envy pinches at your heart.

You can’t help but wonder who you would be if you grew up the way he did.

After riding around on the bus, he takes you to walk along the River Thames. Crowds of people go about their days around you while you and Lando create your own little world together. Every place that he points out will forever be a reminder of him. His words paint over the sights, coloring them a shade of him in your mind. 

Once you get close to the London Bridge, the two of you walk up to the walkway’s railing that overlooks the river. Instinctively, you pull out your camera to snap a few shots. At first, you take a couple of just the bridge in all its glory. The clear summer sky is a beautiful backdrop to the brilliant bridge that watches over the busy river that flows under it.

Lando has his back to you, his head turned toward the bridge. He’s mumbling something about the ships that skim across the surface of the river. But your attention is turned toward focusing him into the frame. His brown curls blow softly in the wind. The shirt he’s wearing fills and flutters with the river’s breeze. He looks perfect as he leans up against the railing, his arms rested against the top and his hands loosely folded together. The photo you take feels so intimate. For all the business and life going on, the eye is completely drawn to him. He’s captivating.

“Lando,” you whisper, wanting to get his attention while your camera is still raised to your eye. 

Turning around, his face is caught in a look that you’re eternally grateful you caught on camera. There’s the hint of a smile on his lips, his eyes are wide, and his eyebrows are drawn up. He’s ready to answer any question you have, ready to hear anything you have to say. It’s a look straight from a movie scene. The look on his face changes swiftly from pleased to surprised when he sees the camera pointed at him.

“What are you doing?” he asks, a laugh forcing his face into a proper smile.

“Taking pictures,” you answer matter-of-factly.

Rolling his eyes, he begins to make faces at the camera. Without missing a beat, you keep snapping photo after photo of him. After a minute or so, you turn the camera off and drop it back down to your side. Lando watches you carefully, his eyes tracking your every movement. The way he’s staring at you makes you feel exposed and analyzed. Distantly, you think you should be scared of his eyes on you this way. But that’s a problem for another time.

The rest of the day passes easily. Lando brings you to some of his favorite spots around the city. He tells you stories; you listen carefully, trying your best to learn everything you can about him. You can’t help but feel like you’ve known him for a hundred years. The ease at which you speak, the natural way you understand each other's ques and mannerisms, it all feels instinctual. And yet, there’s still that layer of nervous excitement that lights you on fire. Every time your hands brush as you walk or you catch eyes lingering on each other, there’s an electricity that shoots through your heart. 

Lando brings you to a place to grab a bite to eat for supper. As you sit together for another meal, you find yourselves arguing lightheartedly about the stupidest things. All things aside, you realize you haven’t had a friend like this in so long. When you began rejecting relationships with people, it had been a hard adjustment. But over the years, you’d grown so used to being alone that you forgot how lonely you were. Sitting across from Lando, listening to him laugh with you and tease you, it dawns on you just how lonely you’ve been. 

By the time you’re done eating, the sun is starting to sink into the horizon. Golden hues are splattered across the sky, painting the city in orange. Lando promised one more sight that would put all the others to shame. Apparently Big Ben is highlighted by the setting sun and is a must see while in London.

With ice cream cones in hand, he hauls you quickly down the street towards the clock tower. Clouds create ombre lines in the sky, bringing the old clock to life. It’s a sight like none other. Big Ben stands like an ancient soldier keeping watch over his city by harnessing the light and fire of the sun.

Wordlessly, you take a photo of the scene in front of you, but only one. Turning your camera off and holding it loosely at your side, you just take in the view. It’s perfect. Everything about today has been perfect. You haven’t been this happy in a long time. 

Lando looms right next to you, his presence warm and full. A hand ghosts over yours, just the fleeting touches of fingers against your skin. Breathing suddenly becomes difficult, your lungs laboring to take in any oxygen. You don’t move a muscle, afraid that he’ll admit that it was an accident or worse.

But it happens again. One of his hands reaches towards your’s, plucking the camera from it. Then his other hand slides into your now empty one. Instantly, the sky isn’t the only thing on fire. Warmth envelops your body, everything stemming from where your hand fits in his. 

Looking over to him, you watch as he slings the strap of your camera around his neck. He looks over to you, a small smile on his face. As your eyes scan over his tanned features, you catch a small bit of ice cream caught at the corner of his mouth. An amused smile crosses over your face. He’s really never beating those child accusations.

“What?” he says while his face twists from peaceful to concerned.

“Nothing you just have some-” You say while you instinctively reach to wipe his mouth with your thumb. As you make contact, you realize what you’re doing. But it’s too late. You’re close enough now that you can feel his breath on your face. Inches separate you, mere inches.

Slowly, you finish the job you set out to do and wipe the corner of his mouth with your thumb. Hooded eyes greet yours when you dare to look at him.

“Ice cream,” you finish your earlier statement as your hand lingers against his face. Stubble rubs against your fingers, but his skin is soft and warm under it. 

There’s maybe a half a second between you trying to pull your hand away and his coming up to cup your jaw. His thumb props up your chin while his fingers press into the back of your neck. You’re barely able to suck in a breath before his lips are on yours. Sinking into him immediately, you kiss him back with matched passion. He feels divine pressed against you. Fire licks at your body, turning you molten in his grip. 

For the first time possibly ever, you feel confident that where you stand is exactly where you want to be. Reaching out to him, you grab his neck with both hands to pull him closer. 

The kiss is damning, his lips drawing you closer and closer. Letting go is not an option, the end of this isn’t even a thought in your mind. Everything you know is this kiss. The rest of the world has faded away; your past has faded into an obsolete flash. While his hands are on you, there’s hope. While your fingers press into his skin, there’s a future.

His hands start to drift, needing to feel more of you. With gentle but firm fingers, he explores your body. One of his hands comes to rest on your waist while the other splays out against your lower back, encouraging you to arch into him. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, causing you to gasp.

The momentary severing of your connection allows you to breathe for a second. Then your name falls from Lando’s lips in a whisper like honey and you’re submerged once again. Dusk wraps around you while you kiss like the world is ending.

Six months have been spent dreaming of moments like this. Lando has plagued you every day and every night for months. The steady ache that you thought would fade has just been set to rest and replaced with a roaring fire. Down to the very marrow of your bones you feel his kiss. You’re insatiable, needing more of him. 

Neither of you know how long you’ve been standing there when you finally pull apart. Lando doesn’t give any sign that he’s removing his hands from you. Instead, he just holds you close while his head drops between your collar and jaw. A jolt runs down your spine when you feel him placing the gentlest of kisses up your neck. 

“Thank you,” he says while pulling away to look you in the eyes. Reeling back a little, it strikes you as odd that that’s what he’s decided to say after you’ve just experienced the best make out of your entire life. Your reaction doesn’t phase Lando, of course. He just smiles down at you like he knows something you don’t.

“For the photo and the postcard,” he finishes, putting your shock to rest. A baffled laugh rises from your chest and you let your forehead fall against his chest. Laughing with you, he adjusts his arms around waist, pulling you tight against him.

“I can’t believe you’re bringing that up right now.” you laugh into his chest, dumbfounded that he was even thinking about it.

“Why? This is the perfect time to bring it up,” he defends. You pull back in his arms to look at him and give him a confused frown.

“I wanted to wait until I saw you in person so I could thank you properly. Now I have,” he says smugly as if this was his plan all along. Not only had he been thinking about and scheming this all day, he’d been waiting for months to do it. Chills cascade over your skin as you let the weight of that sink in. Maybe he missed you as much as you missed him. It’s an insane thought because you should never have felt that way after meeting him once. Rarely over the last six months have you let yourself hope that he felt the same way. Maybe you should have had a little faith.

But to what end?

The familiar feeling of doubt begins to creep in, but you refuse to ruin one of the best moments you’ve ever experienced. Even if you’ll pay for it later, you’re going to do your best to preserve whatever just passed between you and Lando.

“That’s so cheesy,” you find yourself laughing. Lando squeezes your sides, making you squeal and press into his chest.

“I think you meant ‘romantic,’” he corrects, emulating the conversation that you shared months ago. It makes you smile.

“Maybe I did,” you concede softly. Raising yourself up off his chest, you lean in a press the barest of kisses to his soft lips. He accepts your lips on his with equal tenderness. 

Pulling away for the second time, you press your hands flat against his chest to push away from him. He lets you go, but it takes a few seconds. After you’re free from the circle of his arms, you pull one of his hands into yours and begin walking into the night.

The dying light gives way into a sultry purple and navy blue. The air flits over the water and through the trees on a gentle breeze. With Lando’s hand in yours and your lips still tingling from his kiss, you can chalk this up to the perfect night. 

“Can I take a few pictures?” Lando asks as he pulls you in front of him, your camera held in his other hand. You’d completely forgotten that he had taken your camera from you.

“Sure,” you say while nodding. “Do you know how?”

“Yeah,” He scoffs smugly. “Point and click. Easy as that.”

Blinking at him, you’re slightly in awe of his absolute blind confidence. A man really just believes whatever he wants, doesn’t he.

“Alright,” you say while dropping his hand. “Take a few for me.”

Confidently, he smiles at you and brings the camera to his eye. Then pulls it away with a frown on his face.

“Lens cap,” you tell him while pointing to the end of the camera. His eyes flick to you while his confidence falters for just a second. Once he has the cap removed, he brings the camera back up to his eye. He’s obviously a little more pleased when he can actually see his surroundings through the viewfinder.

Silently, you watch as he struts about taking pictures of this and that. Watching on, you can’t help the smile that spreads onto your face. He’s like a kid in a candy store. Once something catches his eye, he walks over to it and spends minutes on making sure it’s just how he wants it. 

While he gallivants about with your camera, you have a moment to really think about everything that’s happened today. Playing it over in your head, it seems like a movie or as if it wasn’t really happening to you. The person you are with Lando seems so different to the person that you know yourself to be. It’s like the person that you are when you’re around him is this fuller version of yourself. Your broken pieces seem to draw together, finally ready to heal. There’s a joy that you’ve never known when your hand is in his. It feels right; it feels real.

And in the nighttime streets of London, you feel a star of hope being born in your chest. And you hold it tight. Maybe there are some things that don’t have to be temporary. Running is all you’ve ever known. Once a place doesn’t fit your needs or desires, you run away to the next place. But what if there’s somewhere, or someone, out there that will always fit your needs and desires. What if it wasn’t chance that brought together again two people whose paths should never have crossed?

What if you didn’t have to run?

“How do you get them to come up on the screen?” Lando says while fast walking over to you and pulling you from your train of thought. When he reaches you, you pull the camera from his hands. He rounds behind you, placing his chin on your shoulder and his hands around your stomach. Pressing the play button, you bring the pictures onto the display screen. It starts with yours from the beginning of the day. The bright morning shot of the Camden Market sign seems like a lifetime ago. 

You drag the wheel dial back, sending you to the last picture taken. It’s completely dark. 

“What?” Lando mumbles into your shoulder, his body going rigid against you. You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

Slowly, you spin the dial backward to keep browsing through his pictures. Nearly every single one is too dark to make out. 

Obviously frustrated, Lando huffs and presses his forehead into your shoulder. You can’t help but laugh at his display of exasperation. His lesson has been well learned.

“I don’t get it,” he says while you turn in his arms. He’s pouty now, his face pinched into a frown.

“Did you adjust the aperture, the ISO, and the shutter speed?” you ask pointedly. He doesn’t give you the dignity of a response. Instead, he pulls his lips into a line and squints his eyes at you. He’s not taking any of your bull shit. Deciding it's your turn to play the smug jerk, you smirk at him.

“Point and click, right?” you tease while slinging the camera around your neck. You reach into Lando’s front pocket while looking him in the eyes to fish out your lens cap. His eyes go wide as your hand slides in and out of his pocket. Tilting your head to the side, you watch as he sucks in a deep breath. You’ve absolutely flustered him, something you don’t think often happens.

“Huh?” he mumbles, obviously not catching what you had said earlier.

“I can give you a lesson on the bus ride to my place if you’d like,” you say with an innocent smile. Lando blinks away his shock and then accepts your offer.

Walking side by side, you make your way to the bus stop. Hopping on the bus to where your house is, Lando leads you to a row and lets you have the window seat. 

While the bus teeters along, you give Lando a brief lesson on camera basics. He nods along, his eyes following your fingers as they dance along the camera. He seems genuinely interested in what you have to say. A warm feeling flares in your chest that he cares about what you do enough to learn about it. 

Too soon, the bus arrives at your stop. Together, you get off the bus and walk towards the town house you’re staying in. Lando has your hand clasped in his while he asks you question after question about cameras. You do your best to answer him, a smile constant on your face.

“This is me,” you sigh quietly while stopping in front of the gate of the house. He stops too, turning to stand in front of you. There’s a question poised on your lips that you already know the answer to were you to ask it. Once more the choice to reach out looms in front of you. 

“How long are you in London for exactly?” Lando asks. He hadn’t asked about it all day. You’ve been wondering when it was going to come up and it finally has.

“Just the next few days,” you tell him. He nods along with your words.

“After that?” he presses while fiddling with your fingers.

“Back to Monaco for a while until I get a new assignment. Probably only a few days,” you admit. “What about you?” 

“I’m going on vacation with my family to Bali for a week and then with some friends to Australia the next week. Then I’ll be in Woking for work,” he says, his eyes not lifting to find yours. The realization hits you like a dump truck. 

“Then the season starts again,” you say, your voice strained.

“And you’ll be on assignment,” he shoots back, his voice the same as yours.

All the hope that’s been accumulating throughout your time with Lando burns to ash in a matter of mere seconds. The guiding star that flared to life just hours ago, collapses in on itself, creating a black hole inside of you. All joy is sucked away, leaving you cold and alone. Where hope once was, despair takes its place.

It’s nearly laughable that you ever thought you wouldn’t have to say goodbye. Even when you tried not to run, the universe did it for you. Thinking that fate brought you together was a child’s wish. It’s fate that’s tearing you apart. There can be no other way for you, running away is the only option. Saying goodbye will always be your fate, your curse.

“I’ll come to Monaco,” Lando says suddenly, his hands gripping yours. His eyes are like fire when you look into them. His face is stormy, angry even. You know the look well. He’s fighting. He’s a fighter.

You remember when you were a fighter.

“Alright,” you choke out, feeling utterly broken. Pulling you close, he takes your lips with his own. You can feel his promise in his kiss, his hope to see you again. It shatters you further. Tears well in your eyes, but you don’t allow them to fall. This pain is what you bargained for and now you’re paying in full. But you kiss him, you kiss him with everything you have because you know it will be the last.

Two fated times your paths crossed.

And two times you were ripped apart by that same fate.

When he pulls away, you can’t look him in the eye. He holds you close while he whispers into your ear.

“I’ll see you in Monaco.” His voice is stern and sure. All you do is nod into his chest. 

When he walks away, he doesn’t say goodbye. He believes that this isn’t one. You know better. 

This time, you don’t look over your shoulder to watch him leave. 

[himbofan]

bungo stray dogs - meet cutes

hey guyzzz soooo here's my one piece of writing for the next 10 months 😛🩷

jk but fr it's hard for me to write anything consistently so thank you for bearing with me!!!! :3

i always appreciate all forms of support!! I’ve been having bsd brainworms for a couple months now so expect more ramblings at some point ok thx for reading BYEEEEEEEE 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

cw: gn reader, mention of cigarettes, reader has a cat, light stalking

characters: nakahara chuuya, fukuzawa yukichi, oda sakunosuke wc: 2600+

you’re the cute cashier who works the graveyard shift at my local convenience store and i'm always awake at odd hours - nakahara chuuya

Chuuya stifled a yawn and wearily checked his phone. The numbers [3:27 AM] glared back at him with an irritating brightness, almost mocking him for staying up so late. He sighed and pocketed his phone, glancing up at the sky which was still a deep indigo, the stars barely visible from the copious amounts of light pollution. 

He grumbled something illegible under his breath and pushed open the door to the nearest convenience store. The door jingled lightly, the smell of nondescript floor cleaner invading his nostrils as he stepped into the cramped space. 

“Welcome…” you called out wearily from the register, though you couldn’t see who just walked in due to the height of the shelves blocking your view. 

He barely acknowledged your existence at the opposite side of the store, instead choosing to browse the shelves.

He eventually made his way to the register, dropping a bottle of water on the counter before finally looking up at you. 

“And I’ll take a pack of Marlboro Golds.”

You glanced at him quickly while scanning the water and box of cigarettes, trying to take in as much of his appearance as possible without looking creepy. 

You hadn’t seen him before since starting this job a week ago, and he certainly was a sight for sore eyes. 

His hair was a fiery orange that fell in slight waves over his shoulder, with piercing eyes that made your heart skip a beat. 

You silently punched in your employee discount as he pulled out his wallet. Though it was only 10% off, he looked like he’d been from hell and back, and you felt strangely empathetic towards this stranger, wanting to make his night a little easier in the only way you could without getting in trouble. 

You finished the transaction and handed him the receipt, finally mustering the courage to look at his face again. To your surprise, he was looking directly at you this time, his eyes narrowed as he studied you. 

You quickly averted your gaze and hastily bowed, babbling out a customary “Thank you, come again”. 

As he left the building, he quickly scanned the receipt. His eyebrows raised a little as he saw the discount. Of course he would never need it with his cushy salary, but you had no way of knowing that. You simply saw him as a tired man who had a rough day, extending kindness the only way you knew how. The thought of a stranger showing him pity made his brow furrow, but he couldn’t deny how his heart squeezed when he remembered those kind eyes.

—

The next night, you were back behind the register, eyes glazing over while you stared aimlessly at the wall. The door jingled and you snapped to attention. 

“Welcome!”

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the same handsome man from yesterday walk in. You fidgeted with your hair and nails trying to look more presentable under the unflattering fluorescent lights. 

He made his rounds and eventually came to the counter again, dropping his choices on the counter. 

Before you could open your mouth, he spoke. 

“Don’t do that again.” 

You gaped like a fish and internally panicked, mind racing trying to find where you had gone wrong.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean…”

“The discount. I don’t need it.”

“Oh my apologies, you just looked like you were having a rough day and I wanted to try and make it a little better…I didn’t mean to insult you…” you rambled. You couldn’t hide the embarrassment on your face, cheeks and ears heating up rapidly as you felt yourself pinned under his strong gaze. 

He sighed, “It’s fine, just don’t do it again. I don’t need your charity.” 

‘…or for you to get in trouble trying to help me.’

You wanted to curl up and die right there, but instead you scanned his items and stuffed them in a bag, staring down at the white countertop and praying for the minutes to go faster so you could go home and scream.

Noticing your discomfort, Chuuya sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He finished the transaction and muttered a small “thank you” before dropping a small piece of paper on the counter. He immediately whirled around and headed out the door so you couldn’t see the slight blush tingeing his face and ears.

I’ll pay you back. Here’s my number.

 xxx-xxx-xxxx

You looked up in surprise but he was already out the door, the jingle of the doorbells signaling his departure. You smiled and blushed lightly, the fatigue from your long shift briefly alleviated as butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the thought of the handsome stranger. 

“Ah… I didn’t even get his name…”

you’re the owner of the cat i’ve been feeding because i thought it was a stray - fukuzawa yukichi

It was a relatively quiet day, the weather was nice and the streets were slightly less busy than usual. Fukuzawa closed his eyes and let the warm rays of sun seep into his tired skin, silently basking after a long day of being chained to his desk. 

His meditation was broken as a striped tail curled around his leg. Much to his delight, a friendly looking cat chirped and rubbed its face affectionately on his legs. His eyes softened as he reached down to let the cat sniff his hand, then softly pet its head. 

He swiftly took a small dried fish out of his sleeve and offered it, to which the cat excitedly accepted, purring up a storm as it crunched hungrily on the treat. His shoulders dropped slightly, stress and tension slowly melting away as he continued to admire the furry creature. 

The cat writhed on the ground, soaking up every ounce of attention from him as he continued to gently pet its fur. As if compelled by an unknown force, the cat suddenly shot its head up and glanced around, before running off into the bushes. Fukuzawa looked around for what could’ve possibly scared the cat away, but saw nothing. Slightly disappointed, he stood and returned to the office.

The next couple of days it came back as friendly as ever, and with an even more ravenous appetite for treats. Of course Fukuzawa was happy to oblige, showering the cat with affection and treats every time. 

“You have quite an appetite for such a small cat, don’t eat too many treats now.” he murmured, his stoic face unchanging yet there was a glimmer of admiration in his eyes.

“There you are! You greedy little shit!!”

His respite was broken as an angry voice yelled out from across the courtyard. The cat seemed to instantly recognize the voice and immediately ducked behind Fukuzawa’s legs. 

You jogged up to him, slightly out of breath, and looked up at the man who your cat was using as a shield. He had a commanding presence, with sharp blue eyes and silvery wolf cut. Your eyes locked for a split second and your heart jumped, this dignified-looking man was certainly easy on the eyes to say the least. Clearing your throat and brushing stray hairs out of your face, you awkwardly waved. 

“Hi, that cat belongs to me. I’m sorry if she caused you any trouble.” 

You smiled at him but glared daggers at your cat, who simply looked back at you. Though somehow, you could feel a smug aura radiating from it.

He looked down at the cat then back to you with a very slightly amused expression.

“No, she wasn’t bothering me. She’s quite sweet.” 

His voice rolled out deep and smooth, matching his serious appearance. He extended his hand down and your cat happily rubbed her face on it, purring up a storm.

“She really likes people, but that’s because she really, really likes food.”

You sighed and squatted down to attempt to grab your cat, but she ducked further behind the fold of the man’s yukata. You frowned and huffed but didn’t move any further, lest you’d be kneeling between this stranger’s legs. Fukuzawa noticed your discomfort and scooped up the cat in his arms, handing her off to you. You gratefully lifted your cat, accidentally brushing his large hand in the process which sent a small jolt of adrenaline through your body. 

“She’s not supposed to be outside but somehow she always manages to slip out. I feed her regularly but it doesn’t matter, she’s insatiable.”

Knowing the jig was up, your cat meowed in protest and squirmed in your arms.

“I mean how am I supposed to feel when my cat is going up to strangers and begging like she’s starving? She’s making me look like a neglectful owner to the whole damn city!”

You continued to ramble, before realizing you were venting your frustrations on this poor random man. 

He looked at you, a slight twinkle of amusement in his eyes. 

“She looks healthy and happy, it’s obvious someone loves her very much.” 

You felt your face heat up as he reassured you, wholly unprepared for the praise from this stern-looking yet attractive older man. 

“Ah… well thank you very much for taking care of my cat.” You bowed politely. “Please let me pay you back somehow.”

He shook his head gently and tucked his arms in his sleeves. “No need, it was no trouble at all.”

“I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t help you out in return, I insist.”

You rummaged hastily through your bag and retrieved a pen and a crumpled receipt, scribbling down your number and name before handing it to him. 

You were telling half of the truth; you really did want to pay him back, but you also wanted an excuse to see this hot man again.

“Ugh, I have to go, but please don’t hesitate to reach out. Again, thank you so much for taking care of her.” You bowed one more time before speed-walking down the street, indignant meows fading as you turned the corner.

Fukuzawa looked at the small piece of paper in his hand, tucking it in his sleeve as the faintest of smiles graced his face for a second. 

‘...cute…’

you ask me for help to pretend to be your boyfriend to scare off a creep - oda sakunosuke

You glance over your shoulder warily while pulling your jacket tighter over your midsection, walking faster down the street. To your demise, the shady looking man that started following you a few blocks ago continued to tail you despite taking several twists and turns to try and throw him off. Cursing under your breath, you opened the door to the nearest establishment and quickly ducked in hoping to find a place you could stake it out until he left.

You’d never been to this bar before despite passing it multiple times on your way home, but it was much nicer than expected. The narrow stairs opened up into a cozy bar, moody lighting glinting off of the polished wooden stools. The only patron was a rather tall man with reddish hair, sitting quietly sipping on his drink. 

Although he was a complete stranger, you felt as if this man was trustworthy. He exuded an aura of peace and safety that you desperately needed at this moment. 

Sheepishly you sat down next to him. He looked down at you curiously, about to ask why you chose to sit next to him when the whole bar was available, when the door opened again and the man who had been following you stumbled in. Your heart dropped and you turned to the stranger next to you, whispering rapidly with a pleading expression. 

“Hey so there’s a creepy guy following me, could you pretend to be my boyfriend? I’ll buy you a drink as thanks.”

Before he could respond, you faked a hearty laugh as though you just told a hilarious joke and put your hand on his arm flirtatiously, hoping that the creepy man was watching. 

Your heart was thundering in your chest, but you continued to smile and look at your fake boyfriend. Getting a better look at his face, you noticed that he was actually quite good looking. He had a slight amount of stubble on his jaw, but the rest of him was well groomed. His eyes were a gorgeous crystal-clear sapphire blue that gazed down at you stoically. You were close enough to smell his light cologne, it was just enough to be noticeable but not overbearing. Your fingertips felt searing where they touched his arm, and you prayed he couldn’t tell how hard your heart was beating. 

He glanced up at the man brooding in the corner, silently sizing him up with a stony face.

Even though he hadn’t spoken a word, his sheer size and intense stare sent a strong enough warning that the other man froze under his gaze. 

Your stalker stared at the two of you and muttered something under his breath, before heading back up the stairs and exiting the bar. 

Once you were sure the door had closed behind him, you breathed a sigh of relief and removed your hand from his arm. “Hey sorry for putting you on the spot like that, I really appreciate it, let me get you a drink.”

“It’s nothing, I don’t mind.” His voice was deep and rumbled like a thunderstorm, and it was very attractive.

“No please, I insist. Ah, I suppose I should introduce myself.” You bashfully offered your name and bowed slightly. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Oda. It’s getting pretty late anyways, I was going to head out. Do you need someone to walk you home?”

You smiled and nodded. “I would appreciate that, thank you so much.”

The walk home was a little awkward but not uncomfortable. Most of your attempts at small talk were met with brief responses that were followed by a long pause. You assumed he wasn’t much for conversation, but you detected no malice or annoyance in his voice. 

Eventually, you reached the end of your commute. Although you were relieved you made it home safely, you were a little disappointed that your impromptu date with this attractive stranger was coming to an end.

“Oh this is it, thank you so much again for helping me out…. oh right!” You dug out your phone from your bag, opened a new contact, and sheepishly handed it to him. 

“I know you said I didn’t have to pay you back but I really want to.” 

He took the phone and punched in his number along with the name ‘Oda’ before handing it back to you. 

“Thank you again! Have a good night!” You smiled brightly and waved at him from the entrance of your apartment complex, heart still pounding. 

He offered a simple wave in return, making sure you closed and locked the door before continuing on his way. He couldn’t ignore the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of your smile for the rest of the night. 

dividers credit @/cafekitsune

[wardenparker]

Woo hoo! big congrats on the 2.5k. now onto the prompt: I think a Dave York and "I'll protect you" combo could be interesting

Dave York. 1,269 words. "I'll protect you." Co-written with @absurdthirst

Wounded Dave, description of wounds, cursing, character holding a gun. Takes place directly after the events of Equalizer 2.

The address for the farm where you live is pretty straightforward. He’s had it since the day you closed on the property nearly ten years ago. Never needed it until now, but he’s glad that he had kept. Moving is slow, unable to be as stealthy as he once was with the nerve damage and loss of vision in one eye. It takes him nearly three days of watching the small clearing with several buildings before he decides to creep into the house when you are away.

Grocery shopping is only a small project, but you do it once a week at the break of dawn on Sunday morning when most of the devout town in the valley below your little farm is either at church or having a family meal. Most people don't bother with you after so long. You have your little farm and you're mostly self-sustaining at this point. There is fishing and hunting in the area so no one notices when a few extra fish or one more deer go missing every once in a while, and you only need to venture into the local grocery store for a ten minute trip of things you simply can't buy or make yourself.

Or sometimes, like today, you just need a little treat. A bag of chocolate chips and some bananas make their way back to the farm with you in what is probably your most decadent purchase in a year.

Something is different when you get to the farmhouse, though, and even the simple act of walking through the front door has you on high alert. The house feels different. Smells different. And you glance down at the threshold to see mud caked in your entry way. Just a dab of it, but it's enough to have you carefully and silently dropping your groceries inside the doorway and filling your hands instead with the gun you carry every time you leave the house. It's small, concealed, but effective.

"You have to the count of three to get out of my fucking house," you call to whoever it is that has snuck in, in your absence.

He’s got to give it to you, you haven’t slipped. Your senses are just as sharp as they had been when you left the team. Purposefully making noise to alert you to the direction he’s coming from, Dave manages to shuffle forward enough to step into the doorway. “Might take me longer than three seconds, Slim.” He huffs, calling you by the nickname that you had begrudgingly adopted when you realized it wasn’t an insult. They had been talking about your slender fingers and how you could do some of the delicate work they couldn’t. He’s exhausted and ready to collapse, but he keeps his lone eye on the gun in your hand.

You recognize his voice faster than his face. It's been ten years since the last time you saw Dave York and he's in rough fucking shape. In fact, he is the smell that first alerted you to your house being compromised when you got home. He reeks like three days in a swamp. But it isn't until he comes around the corner that you understand why.

"Fuck, Dave." One look at the wreck he's become after whatever the fuck happened to him and you're slipping the gun back into its holster and rushing forward to keep him upright long enough that he can make it to an actual seat instead of collapsing on your floor. "What the hell happened to you?"

“Bad day.” Dave jokes weakly, barely managing to not lean all his weight against you as you guide him to a chair. His wounds are still bleeding, seeping through the bandages that he’s managed to wrap around them and to be honest, he’s got a fucking infection or ten. “McCall.”

“Ah, fuck.” For whatever it’s worth, you never liked McCall that much. Too self-righteous. Smug about being intelligent. Sanctimonious to the point of irritation. Parting ways with the team a decade ago had been a blessing. “Is he gonna come track you down while I’m cleaning you up, or do we have time to figure out how bad a shape you’re actually in?”

Dave grunts in pain after he tried to shake his head. “He— he thinks I’m dead.” He hisses. “I should be.”

"Stop trying to move, you dumbass." 'Affectionate heckling' is what you once called the name calling on the team and apparently you haven't lost that touch. Although it shouldn't surprise you – the other reason you left the team when Dave and some of the other guys were getting into mercenary work is because you've had feelings for Dave York so long that it feels like part of your DNA at this point. "Let me get my kit and a wash basin. We'll get you cleaned up and rebandaged and figure out how fucked you are. Okay?"

“Same old Slim.” Dave grunts, but it’s warm, softer than he would have talked to anyone else on the team. Not that he can talk to them anymore. They’re dead. He thinks about Carol and the kids and his stomach twists, knowing that he has to stay away now. He will be a danger to them if he shows up again. His entire world is gone and now he has to figure out what to do.

"Do I even want to know what happened?" The farmhouse isn't large, and once Dave is leaning against the counter you dart across the room to scoop up your groceries and get the few cold things put away before you head into the bathroom to retrieve your first aid kit and a basin of clean water.

“Shit went sideways.” He can always be honest with you; in a way he couldn’t be honest with the team or with Carol. You know his soul. Even as dark as it is. “We tried to clean it up and there was a casualty that was McCall’s friend.”

“The rest of the team on your heels?” If they are, you’ll need to prep. There aren’t enough places for four guys to sleep in this house, but you’ll make it work.

“Everyone’s dead.” Dave murmurs quietly. There was no way anyone else survived. Hell, the only reason he survived was because the water was freezing. Slowing down the bleed out and the storm washed his body away before McCall could do anything else.

"Fuck." That has you stopping in your tracks, whipping around on the spot to turn and look him in the eye. The one he has that is still working well. The wreckage of the powerful man you had fallen in love with so many years ago and pined for ever since makes your chest ache in a hollow and long-forgotten sort of way. Like your heart had forgotten how to beat, but even the sight of a bruised and beaten Dave York is enough to bring it back again.

"Don't worry," you murmur, reaching out to put your hand over his. "We can keep you hidden up here as long as we need to." It's no small feat, but you have and would do far less for this man. "I'll protect you. I promise."

Closing his eyes, Dave relaxes, knowing you will keep your word. He’s always known you’ve had his back, even when you left the team. You left because of him, because of Carol, and not for the first time he wishes he had followed you. “I know, Slim.” He murmurs softly. “You’re the only one I trust. Always have been.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer @shakespeareanwannabe

My Masterlist!

[mochamvgz]

what they would save ur contact as

; i don't think this needs a synopsis? it's all in the title

; ot7 enhypen x reader

; genre: hcs, non idol au, established relationship, fluff

; warnings: slight profanity, miraculous, some members being total simps, being called short by niki

; 0.5k words

; perm taglist: @inkelea @yuerki

heeseung || ramyeon partner🍜💛

the two of you LOVE ramyeon so it's only fitting. your first date, all the way back when you guys were in uni, was having ramyeon at a local convenience store for crying out loud!

and OF COURSE you immediately fished out your phone from your pocket to change his contact to the same

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

jay || my pretty girl💐 (in a completely not possesive and absolutely unpatriarchal way!)

if you saw xander hawthorne you're a real one pls marry me

we already know this guy is THE ultimate green flag so this came as a surprise to no one

you and jay are also massive feminists and no sticklers for insecure masculinity hence the parenthesis

when you find out what you're saved as on his phone you can't help but fall in love with your boyfriend all over again

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

jake || bugaboo🐞❤️🖤

if you think miraculous is a kids show GET OUTTA HERE

"there's no way you saved me as that"

"why? is there a problem bugaboo?"

without a word you unlock your phone, open ur contacts, scroll down to find his and hold it up in front of him

jake raises his brow at you and directs his attention to your screen, his mouth immediately forming an 'o'

" ‘chat noir’ ? oh my god you're kidding!"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

sunghoon || (name)

the guy first saved your number when you were paired up for a project which was 2 whole years ago mind you and for some reason it just never? occurred? to him? to change it??

of course you're mad when you find out

"seriously hoon?"

"i'm sor-"

"give me your phone"

he complies. you unlock and open his contacts going to ‘favourites’, clicking on your contact which is at the top of the list duh

you change your contact name from ‘(name)’ to ‘the love of my life💘’ and hand his phone back. he raises his brows when he sees what you did but doesn't say anything because it's true

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

sunoo || QWEEN🙌👑

"YES!!! GO QUEEN!!!"

you guys were hanging out at his place one day, all snuggled up watching a movie and the female lead just did something super badass making you jump up

sunoo doesn't waste a moment grabbing the opportunity

"but you're my queen"

you're surprised at the abruptness of the compliment but try to appear more ‘seriously dude?’ rather than a blushing mess

"what? it's true i even have your contact saved as that"

he brandishes his phone to show you

there's no stopping the blush now

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

jungwon || yang jungwon's girlfriend 😤💖💓

when you ask him why he's referring to himself in third person he'd say

"in case my phone ever gets stolen or something, the thief would still know you're mine"

you can't take it anymore and burst out laughing

"what?" he'd ask with his brows furrowed

"you're ridiculous"

"but you still love me" he's right about that

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

niki || shortie🙄

to be fair your height is above average but your boyfriend is a fucking giant and even then you're only like 2 cm shorter

he still can't leave it alone tho and teases you about it to no end

"are you for real?"

"what? it's true ya know"

"for fuck's sake it's only 2 cm"

and just like that the two of you are at it again

; a/n: surprise surprise! my first hc yayyy! i hope this turned out okay bc i had no idea what i was doing lmao💀 ily if you got the reference in the jake one no i don't just mean miraculous

© mochamvgz on tumblr | all rights reserved | do not plagiarise, repost or translate any of my works

[honey-crypt]

slowburn elliott x farmer please please please please... (falls to my knees) strangers to mutuals to friends to lovers (explodes)

i only ask for angst to comfort and a lot of romantic tension go crazy w this if u feel like it

a/n: y'all... i present to you... my magnus opus... 3 days of work... maybe 50 or so hours dedicated to this... please... please enjoy

wc: 10.1k

features: slow burn (strap in), mentions of war, strangers to lovers, romance that will make you melt, minor spoilers for year 2 of sdv and sdv expanded, elliott cries a lot, imposter syndrome, elliott is a SAPPY SAP OF A MAN WHO LOVES YOU LOTS, i pull from my own sdv worldbuilding/elliott lorebuilding for this

summary: a box of cereal. the spirit eve's maze. a rowboat's maiden voyage. these are just a few moments that define your love story with elliott.

★ chapters in a story called life - an elliott x farmer slow burn piece ★

Chapter 1: First Encounters

A well-manicured hand reached out for the box of cereal at the same time as you, calloused knuckles brushing against your hand. In one swift motion, the hand plucked the last cereal off the shelf. You let out a surprised gasp and whipped your head towards the cereal thief, “Hey!” you exclaimed, ready to reprimand them but your words fell short at the sight of the individual in question. 

Long fiery red hair draped over their shoulders and emerald eyes bore into your soul, as the cereal thief adjusted their grip on the box, “I apologize,” their voice hummed out at a warm baritone pitch, “You seemed… to be struggling with getting the cereal box. I wanted to assist,” the man, at least you assumed them to be a man with their chiseled jawline and overall physique, handed the box of cereal over to you, “Apologies for any miscommunication, I simply wished to help,” his word choice was eloquent, unnecessarily eloquent. 

“Oh, uh,” you took the cereal box and dropped it in your shopping basket, “Thanks.”

“Of course,” the stranger flashed you their pearly whites, “Have a pleasant day,” he walked off to the next aisle in Pierre’s General Store. You looked back at your box of cereal then went about your merry way, finishing up your grocery shopping for that week. 

Chapter 2: Run-in at the Beach 

The local fisherman Willy ordered a bundle of parsnips from your farm and you were able to harvest them today, your first of many orders set for delivery. You tied up the sack of parsnips with a pretty red ribbon and dropped them in your bag, ready to make the trek through town to deliver your vegetables and produce. 

After running through town like a headless chicken and delivering orders to the likes of Pierre, Gus, and Jodi, you crossed over the bridge and onto the beach. Despite living in Pelican Town for almost a week, you never stepped foot on the beach until now. The ebb and flow of the waves greeted you, as you approached Willy on the nearby pier. The old fisher released his rod back in, no fish on the hook, when he saw you walking up, “Ahoy, (Y/N). I take it that yer got me order of parsnips?”

“Yes, sir!” you gave him a salute and pulled out the sack of parsnips before handing it over to Willy, “Hope they’re up to your standards.”

“If yer anything like yer dear old grandpa, I’m sure that these parsnips will be golden,” the fisherman reassured you with a belly laugh, “Here’s a few extra G for yer troubles. Go get yerself a nice drink at the saloon later,” he placed about 500G in your hand, “I best be gettin’ back to fishin’, you have a good day, alright?”

“Thanks, Willy, I’ll do my best,” you gave Willy a nod before exiting the pier. Stepping back on shore, you inhaled a fresh breath of sea air and stretched out your legs, sore from running around for so long. You were about to make your way back to town when you noticed a familiar redhead by a fire pit to your right. The redhead sat by the fire pit, a towel beneath him and his shoes set aside. The sea breeze ruffled his ponytail, as the man peered silently out into the ocean. 

I shouldn’t bother him, you reasoned with yourself, He seems busy. You turned your heel towards the cobblestone pathway, only to hear the redhead call out to you, “Oh! Hello, there!” Shit, okay, now I have to talk to him. You turned your attention back on the man on the shore, “Er, hello there.”

His eyes fell onto your delivery bag, “Ah!” he broke out into a smile, “The new farmer we’ve all been expecting and whose arrival has sparked many a conversation,” you made your way to his side and plopped down next to him, “How did you know that I’m the new farmer?”

“Your bag sports your farm’s name,” the man pointed to the embroidered letters on your grandpa’s old bag, clearly showcasing the name of the farm. Your face warmed up with mild embarrassment and you quickly fanned your cheeks, “Oh, yes… makes sense,” Yoba, I’m so- ugh! Silly? Yeah, I’m silly and trying not to make a fool of myself in front of such a… handsome? Yeah, he’s handsome, alright. Handsome man. Okay, please stop yapping-

“We briefly met at Pierre’s earlier this week but I never had the opportunity to introduce myself,” the well groomed man broke you out of your internal monologue and extended a hand to you, “I’m Elliott. I live by the little cabin on the beach,” the man- no, Elliott- gestured to the cabin behind the two of you, its exterior weathered from the elements, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You eyed his hand and grasped it, surprisingly rough to the touch. The two of you exchanged a handshake, as you introduced yourself to Elliott, “I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Chapter 3: Writer’s Block

You stood outside Elliott’s cabin, clutching a bag of freshly grown potatoes in your hand. Another day, another round of deliveries; at least, you got to deliver to a friendly face. You knocked on the door, only for it to slowly creak open. Cautiously, you entered the cabin and called out to the redhead, “Hello? Elliott, are you home?”

The cabin was surprisingly under-decorated and somewhat shoddy, a lone bed in the far corner of the room with a piano beside it. In the corner closest to you, Elliott hunched over his desk, the sound of pen scrubbing echoing throughout the cabin’s old walls. You called out to Elliott once more, “Elliott?” he perked up at the sound of your voice, “Ah! (Y/N)!” he rose from his desk, “What a surprise to have you in my…” his voice trailed off, “…humble abode! What do I owe the pleasure of your visit to?”

“Just dropping off your order,” you set the bag of potatoes on the closest available space, “Whatcha doing?”

“Oh, the usual,” hummed Elliott, “I’m attempting to narrow down how to address this one scene in my novel.”

“You’re a writer?” you raised your eyebrows, trying to see if you can catch a glimpse of his work. Elliott hovered by his desk and brushed a few loose papers over his work, “Yes, yes I am. It’s a bit of a funny story, but I actually moved to Pelican Town to pursue my writing career.”

“Oh, really? How come?” you asked.

Elliott placed his hands on the desk and leaned on it for support, “I supposed a life of solitude would impose some… literary genius upon me, like the great Ernest Hemingway. Yet, I’m at a standstill—” he cleared his throat, “Well, in all honesty, I’ve been at a standstill for the past two or so weeks with this one scene and I’m afraid that I’m losing steam.”

You frowned, “Yikes, that really sucks,” you moved closer to the writing desk, “Maybe you need a fresh set of eyes? Like a new perspective.”

Elliott’s eyes twinkled at your suggestion, “A most excellent idea!” he hurriedly gathered up his notes and shoved them into your hands, “Alright, the scene I’m at an impasse with is when Clara confronts Horatio about his late lover. I’m not sure if I should go with a tame heart to heart or something along the lines of a miscommunication gone awry.”

You read through the passages, familiarizing yourself with Elliott’s work. He wrote in a style similar to the aforementioned Hemingway, but his vivid imagery and passionate dialogue left you with a sense of awe and a desire for more. You got to the scene Elliott was stuck on, thumbing between earlier scenes and scanning the pages. Finally, you spoke up and suggested to Elliott, “Given Clara’s kind demeanour and Horatio’s sensitivity, I would go with the heart to heart option.”

Elliott broke out into a grin, “Splendid! You’re absolutely right!” he grabbed the papers and set them back on the desk, “Many thanks for your assistance, (Y/N). I truly appreciate it.”

“Of course,” you flashed him a smile and a thumbs up, “Happy to help.”

Chapter 4: The Flower Dance

You stood by the assortment of refreshments and finger foods, nursing a glass of sparkling cider. Every few minutes, you would mindlessly adjust your flower brooch or take a sip from your glass. Laughter and chatter filled the air, as the residents of Pelican Town joined the day’s festivities. 

You scanned the crowd and found Elliott by the river, standing beside Leah and talking about something, Probably art. Not wanting to remain idle for another moment longer, you made a beeline towards the pair of redheads and greeted them nonchalantly, “Hey, Leah. Hey, Elliott.”

“Hi, (Y/N)!” the artist returned the greeting while Elliott waved at you, “Good day, (Y/N). Are you enjoying the festivities?”

“As much as I can without dancing,” you hummed, finishing off your glass. Elliott nodded, “You make a good point. This is the Flower Dance, there’s not much planned beyond dancing.”

“Speaking of dancing, are you two dancing with anyone?” you asked the pair of redheads.

“We’ll be dancing together like we did last year,” answered Elliott. For some reason, your chest tightened at his response, but you brushed it off as allergies. Elliott fixed his tie, “We best be on our way, Leah. The dance will be starting soon.”

“I’ll catch up with you in a sec!” replied Leah, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I wanna chat with (Y/N) for a bit.”

“Okay,” the writer smiled at the two of you, “It’s always a pleasure to see you, (Y/N), and Leah, I’ll be in the main area whenever you’re ready,” he walked off without another word, as you stared longingly at his fading figure. Leah nudged you in the side, “You should dance with him instead.”

“I should?” you blinked, “But you two already agreed on dancing with each other.”

“I don’t mind passing the torch to you,” the artist nudged you once more. Yet, you shook your head and answered, “I rather not. I’m not much of a dancer anyway.”

Leah puffed out her cheeks and exhaled before stating, “You two would make a cute couple.”

You eyed Elliott in the distance and mulled over Leah’s words, “You think so?” you found yourself smiling in unison with Elliott, as the writer engaged in light banter with Willy. 

“Yeah,” the artist nodded, “I think so.”

Chapter 5: Drinking Buddies

Friday nights at the Stardrop Saloon were always the most rambunctious, at least two thirds of Pelican Town packed inside. You entered the saloon, hungry for a meal after a long day’s work, and saw a familiar figure in a blue shirt and suspenders. Elliott turned his head and grinned at the sight of you, “(Y/N), my friend! Please, have a seat with me.”

You took a seat beside Elliott at the bar, “Hey El,” the writer’s grin grew in size at the nickname, “You enjoying your Friday evening?”

“Absolutely,” answered Elliott, “Well, I must admit that it has gotten better since you arrived. It’s always a joy to see you.”

Your face heated up at his words, but you brushed it off with a laugh, “You’re sweet.”

“Of course,” the writer responded. Elliott then waved Gus over, “Hello, Gus, my friend! May I have two beers?” to which the bartender nodded, “Two beers, coming right up,” and poured two pints of beer from the tap, “Enjoy!”

“Thank you,” the redhead slid over some G to pay for the beers, enough leftover to provide Gus and Emily with some solid tips. Elliott passed one of the beers to you, “For you.”

“Why, aren’t you generous?” you chuckled, happily accepting the beer. You clutched the pint tight in your hand and Elliott raised his up towards you, “I propose a toast,” the writer announced. You held yours up, “To what?” you asked. Elliott smiled, “To our friendship.”

Your heart skipped a beat and your expression nearly soured- you weren’t sure why, though- but nonetheless, you nodded in agreement, “To our friendship,” and clinked glasses with Elliott. 

As the night went on and after a few more beers, you and Elliott were completely hammered. You could hold your liquor, of course, but the sight of Elliott merrily dancing and humming a tune made you break out in laughter and let loose. He’s cute when he’s silly. 

Chapter 6: Dance of the Moonlight Jellies 

You returned to the pier for, what local scientist Demetrius referred to as, an ‘utmost special occasion’. The occasion in question? It happened to be the annual event where moonlight jellyfish would visit the pier. You had vague memories of experiencing the event when you were a little kid with your grandpa, you remembered the fond look he had when the jellyfish would pass by.

You approached the edge of the pier near Willy’s shop and noticed Elliott looking out into the sea with that same longing look you saw the first time you properly met the tall redhead. Gently, you tapped him on the shoulder, “Hi, Elliott.”

“Oh, hello, (Y/N),” his tone was much more… serious? No, it was somewhat sad. You frowned, “What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited for the jellies?”

“I am,” he responded, as the summer breeze ruffled his ponytail, “I’m excited to the point of grief,” your frown deepened and you questioned Elliott, “What do you mean?”

Elliott scooted over so you had more room to stand, you stood by him while he explained, “We pollute the world so much, (Y/N), especially here with Joja… I see Joja CDs and Colas washed up on shore all the time and I fear the worst,” his eyes glistened with pain, “I fear that we won’t see these magnificent creatures unless we take action and hold Joja accountable for their actions.”

You let out a low hum of agreement, it reminded you of your days at Joja Co. and the stories you heard from your coworkers about the higher ups bypassing environmental protections with some hush money. It was part of the reason why you left Joja, other than the fact that it was sucking the life out of you. The day you left Joja Co. was the day you freed yourself from the chains of society. Just like Grandpa wanted. 

“I’m sure we can,” you offered reassurance to Elliott, “I believe in us, I believe that we ultimately make the right decision.”

Elliott nodded, “Thank you, (Y/N),” he looked back at the ocean, “I hope so.”

You were about to retort when Lewis announced that the event was starting, turning your attention to the mayor. Lewis released the little boat towards the sea, you watched with bated breath for the jellyfish to arrive. Your hand brushed against Elliott’s, as the town witnessed the Moonlight Jellies appear. Elliott’s pinkly slowly reached out for yours, you timidly locked pinkies with the writer, as you enjoyed the sight of the beautiful jellies. 

Maybe, one day you’d have the courage to hold his hand. 

Chapter 7: Roadblocks 

Elliott was a no-show to your weekly outing to the Stardrop Saloon and it left you concerned. He was always so punctual and he always told you ahead of time if he couldn’t make it to an event. You worried that he was sick so you left the saloon and headed to the clinic. 

The overhead bell in the door chimed when you entered, signaling your arrival to Harvey. The town doctor gave you a wave, “Hello, (Y/N),” he greeted you, “How are you today? Are you feeling unwell? Injured?” 

“No, no! I’m okay!” you explained, “I was just wondering if you had any over-the-counter medicine. I think Elliott might be sick.”

“Oh!” the doctor let out a relieved sigh, “Well, I’m glad you’re well. Let me see what I got in stock,” he left the waiting room of the clinic and after a few moments, Harvey returned with a box of medicine, “I have this generic medicine in stock. It should help with most symptoms of illness.”

“Thanks, Dr. Harvey,” you handed him some G, to which Harvey gave you the medicine in exchange, “Have a good one.”

“You, too,” the doctor replied, as he put the G in the front desk’s cash register, “And remember to stay healthy! I’m here if you need anything.”

You flashed him a thumbs up and exited the clinic, heading off to Elliott’s cabin with a determined step in your stride. Upon arriving at the cabin, you knocked on the door, “Elliott?” you called out to your friend, “Elliott, it’s me. Are you alright?”

You heard shuffling and slowly, the door creaked open to reveal a dishevelled Elliott. His usual tan was replaced by a washed out pale, as if he hadn’t stepped outside his cabin in days. He sported heavy eye bags and an exhausted expression, “Hello, (Y/N)…” the writer rubbed his eyes, “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“This hour?” you blinked with bewilderment, “El, it’s 5pm. What time do you think it is?”

“Oh, dear,” he let out a weary chuckle, “I must have the times mixed up. I apologize, but I should go back to work. I’ll be free to chat another day,” the redhead proceeded to shut the door, but you stopped it with your foot, “Elliott,” your voice was strained with worry, “You missed our saloon hangout. You never miss an event without telling me,” you held up the medicine, “So I was worried that you got sick… I got you medicine.”

Elliott gawked at the sight of your worried expression and the box of medicine, “Oh, (Y/N), I apologize… I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m not sick or anything, I just have been so wrapped up in my work that I lost track of time.”

“Elliott,” you pushed the door open with your foot, desperate to reach out to your friend, “When’s the last time you got any sleep? Yoba, when’s the last time you went outside?”

Elliott’s freckled cheeks turned red at your questions, “I, er…” he stepped back and allowed you passage inside. The inside of the cabin was dimly lit, minus the light at Elliott’s writing desk. His trash can was overfilled with crumpled up papers, broken quills, and empty bottles of ink. You set the medicine by his nightstand and asked Elliott, “How long have you been writing?”

“I lost track of time,” he answered, taking a seat at his desk. Elliott took out a fresh quill and bottle of ink, dipping the quill into the ink and writing. Yet, the quill snapped and the man who prided himself on his elegance let out a stream of curses. He shoved the papers aside and laid his head on the desk, utterly defeated. You frowned deeply and placed your hand on Elliott’s back, rubbing it tenderly, “El… Talk to me. What’s been going on?”

A soft sniffle reached your ears, as Elliott lifted his head up and exposed his watery eyes to you, “(Y/N), it’s awful. I’m awful!” he turned his body towards you and hugged your waist, “I can’t write for- I can’t write for shit, (Y/N)!” his cursing caught you off guard, but you made no comment, as the writer continued to lament, “It’s been almost two years and I haven’t completed this damn book! I- I-” he buried his face into your shirt and sobbed, “I want to give up, (Y/N). I want to throw it all away.”

You held the back of Elliott’s head in your hand and stroked it, as the redhead cried his heart out. Yoba, how it broke your heart to see him in such… agony. You remained silent while he cried, wanting to give him time. Soon, the sobs subsided and Elliott pulled away from you, his cheeks stained with tears, “I- I apologize,” he looked flustered, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Hey,” you cupped his face in your hands and playfully squeezed his cheeks, “You’re my friend- Yoba, you’re one of my best friends. You’re allowed to lean on me for support, you’re allowed to cry in my presence,” you released your hold on his cheeks, “I’m here for you.”

Elliott sniffled and wiped away any remaining tears, “You truly are my muse,” he mumbled under his breath. Your chest tightened at his comment, “Huh?” you asked. Elliott’s eyes widened, not realizing that he made that comment aloud, “Oh, uhm- Apologies, it was nothing.”

“Oh,” you did your best to hide your disappointment. Maybe I misheard? “You need a break,” you changed the subject, “You can’t keep pushing yourself when you’re so low on steam,” you gave the writer a pat on the shoulder, “So how about you change your clothes and meet me outside, okay? We’re going to the saloon.”

Elliott nodded in confirmation, “That sounds like a marvelous idea. I’ll just be a moment,” he got up from his writing desk and walked off to his dresser. You took that as your cue to leave the cabin, wanting to give the redhead privacy to change. Although, I wouldn’t mind looking- you smacked your cheeks together, Hey! Don’t think that! You then proceeded to leave the cabin, not wanting to be consumed by thoughts of seeing your best friend naked.

Chapter 8: Spirit’s Eve

Jack-o’-lanterns and other spooky decor lined the pathway into the town square, as you entered Pelican Town for Spirit’s Eve. You dressed up as an old-timey sailor, a simple but classical costume. The town square was buzzing with chatter and the occasional creak of… skeleton bones? You peered out into the distance and sure enough, there were two skeletons in a cage. 

To your surprise, one of the onlookers happened to be Elliott, dressed up in a costume that resembled the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland. I didn’t realize he was into the spooky. You waltzed up to him and tapped him on the shoulder, “Hey, El. Enjoying the display?”

Elliott whipped his body around to face you, his face deathly pale, “Er, I don’t believe I am enjoying the display,” he leaned in and whispered in your ear, “I mean to alarm you, but I think those are real skeletons.”

You stifled back a snort, “Oh, yeah?” you eyed the skeletons, as they shuffled about the cage, “I think so, too.”

Elliott audibly gulped and appeared to be on the verge of fainting, “Oh, dear. I think I may need a drink. Care to join me?”

“I would be honored,” you replied. The two of you walked off to the assortment of fall-themed foods and drinks. Elliott grabbed himself a glass of pumpkin ale while you got some apple cider. He slammed the drink back in one or two gulps and exhaled in satisfaction, “That hits the spot,” he poured himself another pumpkin ale, “I needed something to take the edge off after seeing those… creatures,” he shivered. 

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a scaredy cat,” you hummed, taking a sip from your glass of apple cider. Elliott pouted, “It’s perfectly reasonable to be cautious around creatures of the undead,” he protested to you. In exchange, you let out a snort and stated, “It’s okay to be a scaredy cat.”

Elliott rolled his eyes and took another swing of his ale, “I’ll prove to you that I’m not a scaredy cat!” he proclaimed. You eyed him up with curiosity, “Oh, yeah? How so, tough guy?” his cheeks were flushed at your usage of tough guy and he responded, “By completing the maze! I hear that it’s especially spooky,” the redhead pointed to the maze in the distance. He was right, it did look especially spooky. 

“Wanna make this a bet?” you offered to Elliott. The writer’s eyes twinkled with excitement, “Depends on the bet, all I ask is that there’s no skinny dipping involved. You wouldn’t believe the amount of times I had to do that.”

Oh, I can imagine, “First one to finish the maze gets an IOU from the loser,” you proposed the bet to Elliott, “Other than skinny dipping,” you added on. Elliott flashed you his signature smile, “That sounds wonderful,” he finished his ale and discarded the glass in the washing bin, “One, two, three, go!” the writer sprinted off, leaving you in the dust, “Hey!” you yelled, trying to finish your cider as quickly as you could so you could run after him. 

Soon, you found yourself in the dreaded maze, thick but neatly trimmed bushes towering before you. You passed by a few other townies in your quest to complete the maze, such as Harvey and Abigail. After confronting a few dead ends, you were positive that the area where you found Sam in had a way. The blond mentioned something off about the nearby bush, perhaps that was the key to beating Elliott.

Footsteps echoed throughout the maze, as the man in question showed up behind you, “It appears that we’re tied,” he stated, “Yet, there also appears to be another dead end.”

“I don’t think so,” you beckoned Elliott to follow you. You approached the bush near the left side of the maze and patted around the area. Your hand suddenly slipped through an opening in the bush and you grinned, “Found it!” you immediately ran through the opening, Elliott hot on your heels. You weaved and bobbed through the terrain, laughing up at a storm. 

However, you failed to notice a tree root on the path and tripped over it, barely twisting your body in time so you landed on your back and not your face. Elliott couldn’t stop himself in time and promptly fell on top of you, slamming the palms of his hands into the ground so he didn’t crush you under his weight. Time seemed to pause, as you and Elliott locked eyes with one another, so painfully close. Your eyes drifted down to his lips and you swore that he did the same. You were so close, you were so very close. 

“Are you okay?” Elliott asked, as he pushed himself off the ground and back onto his feet, much to your disappointment. You were so close, “I’m okay,” you answered. Elliott then extended a hand to you and pulled you up from the ground, you stumbled a bit but Elliott caught you in time before you could fall again. Yoba, he was so warm and gentle, it was as if you were hugging a teddy bear.

“Be careful,” he told you, “I don’t want you to get hurt,” your heart fluttered at his words, “O- Okay,” you stammered a bit, “I’ll try not to.”

“Let’s try to finish the maze,” the writer released you from the embrace. You nodded in agreement and the two of you resumed your journey through the maze in silence. Finally, after what felt like hours, you two arrived at the end of the maze, where a treasure chest laid before you. Elliott gestured to the chest, “You should have it. After all, you were the one who found the opening that got us here.”

“Are you sure?” you questioned the writer. He gave you a smile in confirmation, “I’m positive.”

You approached the treasure chest and opened it, pulling out the prize. It was a golden pumpkin! Oh how it shined so beautifully under the moonlight. You showed the golden pumpkin to Elliott, “Look here! Isn’t this neat?”

“Very neat!” he laughed, “What a wonderful prize,” the writer then pointed to a nearby mine cart, “I believe that might be our ticket out of here.”

You hopped into the mine cart and noticed there was enough room for you, “Wanna ride with me?” you asked. Elliott shook his head, “No, it’s alright. I’ll take it when it comes back.”

You did your best to hide your sadness at his rejection and responded, “Alrighty… I’ll see you later, then,” you activated the mine cart and rode back to the outside of the maze. You considered waiting for Elliott to come back, but ultimately decided against it. You needed to go home, you needed space… so you left.

After some time, Elliott returned to the outside of the maze, eager to see you. Yet, to his surprise, you were nowhere to be seen. He frowned upon the realization that you left early and went over to grab his bag so he could leave, as well. As Elliott left the festival, his bag’s zipper opened a bit, revealing a small bouquet of flowers nestled inside. 

Chapter 9: My Muse 

Things were tense between you and Elliott ever since the incident in the maze during Spirit’s Eve. Each time you would hang out or see one another, the air would be… off. Yet, neither of you would address it, much to the annoyance of Leah, who happened to know both sides of the story and was sworn to secrecy about the crushes. Poor Leah, oh how she just wanted to slam you two’s faces together so you could make up and make out. 

You knew that Leah was right, though; you had to confess sooner or later, but the idea of getting rejected by Elliott consumed any confidence you had about asking him out. Nonetheless, you bought the bouquet from Pierre’s, the traditional gift used to ask a person to be your partner in Stardew Valley. You kept the bouquet fresh with water and plant food, not wanting it to die out before you could give it to Elliott. 

You weren’t sure how this crush started nor how it flourished to the point where your mind was plagued with Elliott almost everyday. Does he feel the same or am I just a dumbass for wanting him to feel the same? That was the question on your mind since Spirit’s Eve. 

You left your farmhouse early one morning and found the flag up on your mailbox, indicating that you had mail. Setting your scythe aside, you headed over to the mail and opened it, collecting the letters inside. You thumbed through the letters, seeing one from Pierre and another from Jodi. However, you stopped when you saw a letter with all too fancy handwriting and a red wax seal on it, Elliott wrote me a letter? you carefully opened the envelope and read its contents.

Dearest (Y/N),

I’m delighted to announce that I finally finished my novel, Camelia Station! I would be the utmost grateful if you were to attend my book reading today, at 3pm in the library. If you can’t, I understand. You’re a busy person, after all. Nonetheless, I hope you can come.

— Elliott 

You grinned ear to ear at his use of ‘Dearest’, he wrote like a Victorian noble. Your eyes darted to the words underneath Elliott’s signatures, eyes wide as you read.

P.S. I have a surprise for you. 

A surprise? your mind ran through all the possibilities of what it could be, Could it be him confessing to me? you shook your head, Maybe not… but this is a good chance for me to, though. You looked down at your watch and set an alarm for a quarter to three, plenty of time to get from the farm to the library. With that all out of the way, you then went about your chores for the day. 

After hours of hard labor, your alarm went off. You ran into your farmhouse and wiped off any sweat or grime from your body, spraying yourself in body mist to conceal the smell. On your way out, you grabbed your bag and the bouquet, neatly tucking it inside the bag. 

By the time you arrived at the library, most of the town was inside, presumably for Elliott’s book reading. Yet, the man of the hour was nowhere to be seen. You scanned the room and found Leah near the front, so you slid up beside her, “Hey Leah,” you adjusted your grip on your bag, “Have you seen Elliott?”

“I did earlier,” she answered, “I think he went to the bathroom, but he’s been gone for a while.”

“Can you hold this for a second? I’ll go find him,” you passed your bag off to Leah and made your way to the bathroom. You entered the bathroom and found Elliott by the sink, gripping down on the porcelain. He was muttering something under his breath, you couldn’t make out the words, “El?” you touched his back and he nearly jumped out of his skin, “(Y/N)!” he exclaimed, “Oh, dear, you gave me a fright!”

“I knew you were a scaredy cat,” you jested. Elliott rolled his eyes, just like last time you brought up his tendency for fear. You moved next to Elliott and leaned against the sink, “Why are you hiding in the bathroom?” you asked. Elliott lowered his gaze and mumbled, “I… I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” you rested your hand on his shoulder and squeezed it, “It’s your big day. I know you’re gonna do great. Everyone’s here to support you,” the redhead looked back at you, “Are you sure they’re not here to witness my demise?” You stifled back a laugh at his melodramatic question, “I promise that they’re not here to ‘witness your demise’ or anything of the sort.” 

“Promise?” he asked, his tone similar to that of a small child. You held up your pinky, “I promise,” and intertwined pinkies with Elliott. The redhead smiled weakly, but nonetheless, he was ready to perform. With you trailing behind him, Elliott entered the main area of the library and greeted everyone with his good old Elliott bravo, “Good afternoon, ladies, gentlemen, and folks! I’m ever so honored to have you all here to celebrate the release of my book, Camelia Station.”

As Elliott babbled about his journey with writing his novel, you returned to your spot with Leah and watched with a fond twinkle in your eye at your friend. Elliott took one last deep breath and announced to the crowd, “Before I read the first chapter, there’s something I need to say…” his eyes fell on you, “I wish to thank my muse… (Y/N),” your heart began to pound like a bass drum, “Without them, I wouldn’t have completed this book. Through every hardship and challenge I faced with this process, (Y/N) was my shining light. I dedicate Camelia Station to them, so please... give them a round of applause.”

The library erupted in applause, but it was white noise to you, as you stared at Elliott in awe. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and your hand grew clammy, as you slowly melted from the writer’s sweetness. His muse… I’m his muse.

The applause slowly died down and Elliott seized the opportunity to begin the reading, “Chapter One… Your ticket, sir? Ticket collector Gozman extended a gloved hand towards the young commuter. Ah, yes. I have it right here, he replied, reaching into his coat pocket. Mortified, he discovered that the ticket was missing…”

You listened with a keen ear to Elliott’s reading, mesmerized by his storytelling. The way he switched voices for each character, the vibrato in his words, the detailed imagery transported into the world of Camelia Station. Elliott was talented, but most importantly, he was having fun with his book.

By the time Elliott finished the chapter, a few townsfolk left the library, most likely returning to their daily responsibilities. The remaining audience applauded the writer for his reading and Elliott took a bow, “Thank you, thank you! I will have signed copies for sale at the front. Once again, thank you for coming, everyone!”

You hovered by the front of the library, watching silently while some individuals like Emily and Gus bought a signed copy of Camelia Station from Elliott. Once the crowd dispersed, you approached Elliott and flashed him a cheeky grin, “See, I told you that there was nothing to worry about.”

“You were right,” the writer replied, “Most times, you are right,” you scoffed mockingly, “Most times?” to which Elliott gave you a little nudge, “You do think sea cucumbers are a lovely fish when in actuality, you’re very very very wrong.”

“C’mon! They’re just little guys!” you huffed, much to Elliott’s amusement. A comfortable silence then fell upon the two of you, as you stared into one another’s eyes. Elliott’s pupils were big as saucers, you were positive that yours were, too. 

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” you rested your hand against your bag, the bouquet so close to your person. With pink tinted cheeks, the redhead answered, “I meant every word.”

“Elliott…” your mouth grew dry with nerves.

“(Y/N)...” the writer whispered.

Time stopped, as you pulled the bouquet out of your bag. At the same time, Elliott pulled out an identical bouquet from his own bag. Neither of you moved or spoke, you could only stare at the opposing bouquet. Soon and in unison, you and Elliott bursted into laughter, loud enough to get a scolding look from Gunther. 

You two finished your laugh fest and smiled at one another, “Wow,” you let out a soft laugh, “We really had the same idea, huh?” the redhead nodded, “It seems so.”

“Guess that means we’re dating?”

“Well, I did have a sonnet for you to highlight your passion, beauty, and kindness, but yes, we are dating.”

Chapter 10: Feast of the Winter Star

The fall season went by in an instant and brought the snow and frigid temperatures of winter. You and Elliott had been dating for a while when the Feast of the Winter Star rolled around. 

To your surprise and joy, Lewis mailed you earlier in the season that Elliott was your secret gift receiver. Part of you wondered if Lewis did that on purpose, but given how he handled his relationship with Marnie (you unfortunately found them in a compromised position in the bushes by the bridge in town), you highly doubted it. 

Despite Camelia Station’s completion, Elliott was already on his next book, a mystery called The Blue Tower. You thought it to be fitting that you gifted him a glass dip pen; he was strict about his writing instruments and never used a laptop, despite its ease and functionality. Hopefully, this was a good compromise. In addition, Marnie’s poor ducks would no longer have to suffer with Elliott’s weekly trips to the ranch for duck feathers. I think those ducks might be afraid of Elliott now. 

The Feast of Winter brought families, friends, and lovers together in the beautifully decorated town square. The lamp posts were lined with tinsel and a thick evergreen tree stood in the center, decked out in various ornaments with a big shining star on the top. You searched the bustling square for Elliott and found him with Gus and Leah, enjoying a glass of cranberry wine.

“Surprise,” you hugged Elliott from behind and whispered in his ear. He yelped and almost dropped his wine, “Oh! (Y/N), my love! You scared me!”

“Told yah,” you cooed, “You are a scaredy cat.”

“I concede,” sighed Elliott, “I am a bit of a scaredy cat.”

“Good enough for me,” you released him from the hug and pecked him on the kiss. You then turned your attention to Leah and Gus, but they were too absorbed in conversation. Well, at least, Gus was, as he enthusiastically lectured Leah about his various techniques for cranberry sauce. Leah, on the other hand, appeared half-sleep, but managed to have perfectly timed head nods to fake engagement.

“By the way,” you perked up at Elliott’s voice, “I have something for you,” he handed you a somewhat heavy box, neatly wrapped in red paper and secured with a golden bow, “I’m your secret gift giver!”

“What a coincidence!” you giggled, as you held out your gift to Elliott, “I’m yours,” the two of you shared a laugh and Elliott mused, “Perhaps the mayor had a part in that.”

“I doubt it,” you responded, “He’s–” you felt Lewis stare daggers in your back, as if he could hear what you were about to say, “He doesn't seem like the type to meddle in romance or romantic relationships,” you looked down at your gift, “Why is this kinda… heavy?”

“Open it up, my dear, and you shall see,” stated Elliott.

“Only if we do it at the same,” you requested and Elliott nodded, “It’s a deal.”

Together, you and Elliott unwrapped your gifts, you more so ripped through yours while Elliott was meticulous with his unwrapping. Before you, there was a black box, you opened the box up and gasped at the item inside, “You didn’t!” you exclaimed, proudly showcasing the gift to the world, “You got me the Polaroid camera we saw at the antique shop in ZuZu City!”

“I did!” replied Elliott, “You looked so happy when you saw it and you mentioned how much you wanted to get back into photographing your life, so I had to get it,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Anything for my muse.”

“You’re sweet,” you chuckled, “Now, look at your gift!”

Elliott opened the thin, white box and nearly choked on his own saliva at the glass dip pen. He carefully removed the pen from the box, a beam of rainbow light shining from the glass, “Oh, (Y/N)... this is one of–” he cut himself short, “No, this is the most beautiful and thoughtful gift I have ever received,” he gave you another kiss on the forehead, “You spoil me, my dear.”

“You haven’t seen the best part yet, turn it around,” you informed Elliott. 

He turned the pen around and read the engraving, “It says…” he squinted, “The Spirit of the Valley,” he seemed a bit confused by the words and you elaborated to him, “Your writing and you, Elliott, are so deeply connected to this valley. You brought life with your writing to this valley. You brought life, joy, and peace to me. You are the spirit that’s ingrained in me and this valley.”

Elliott sniffled, tears pricking the corners of his gentle emerald eyes, “You, my muse, are intertwined with my very being. I would be utterly lacking in life’s blessings if you weren’t here,” he pulled you into a deep kiss, your hands finding their way through his long fiery hair.

“Uh, guys?” the sound of Leah’s voice interrupted the kiss, “Too much PDA.”

Chapter 11: The S.S. Granger

Spring flew by as fast as it came. You tended to your farm, interacted with those in Pelican Town, and partook in the festivities. Your first spring was one full of unknowns and uncertainties but now, you finally felt like you were part of the town and the valley. You got some good use of the camera Elliott gifted you during the Feast of the Winter Star, photographing every precious moment. Your favorite photo was the one Leah took of you and Elliott dancing at the Flower Dance. 

Soon, summer followed the peaceful spring weather with thunderstorms, heatwaves, and… green rain? Yeah, green rain happened. Only in Stardew Valley, huh? It took half of the season before nice sunny weather came and it happened to be the same day you received a somewhat cryptic letter from Elliott.

My darling,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. If you are available, please stop by the beach before noon today. I have something spectacular to show you. 

– Yours truly, Elliott 

Elliott didn’t know, but you cherished every letter he sent you, even though they were  somewhat cheesy. You went back inside your farmhouse and opened your dresser, grabbing the ornate box you kept Elliott’s letters in and placing it inside. Your eyes darted up at the wall clock, the time being around 11am or so. I need to get to the beach!

You made your way to the beach, exchanging greetings with the passing residents. When you stepped on the bridge, you noticed a man with a short crew cut and camo leaning against the bridge and admiring the river. You smiled at him, “Hi, Kent.”

The man in camo flinched at your greeting and you frowned. It was only last spring that Kent returned from the Gotoro-Ferngill War and he wasn’t adjusted yet, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” you apologized.

Kent shook his head, “It’s alright,” he ran a hand through his hair, “Just a reflex.”

“Gotcha,” you nodded. You eyed the river and asked Kent, “Enjoying the view?”

“I am,” he answered, “Water is… calming.”

“Agreed,” you hummed, “Well, I’m off to the beach, but I hope you have a nice day.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” replied Kent, “I wish you the same,” you bid farewell to Kent and resumed your walk to the beach. 

You soon stepped foot on the beach, as a crisp summer breeze blew through the air. You sighed with relief at the cold sensation, it was a hot summer day. Feeling energized, you scanned the beach for Elliott and found him standing outside his cabin. He broke out into a grin when he saw you, “(Y/N)! My love, I’m so glad you’re here!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you laughed, embracing Elliott. The two of you held the other as tight as you could, “What’s the surprise?” you mumbled, voice muffled by your face in Elliott’s chest. Elliott released you from the hug and responded, “You’ll see,” he intertwined his hand with yours and led you to the pier. In the center of the pier, a rowboat bobbed against the waters. 

Elliott gestured to the boat, “I finally fixed up the old rowboat outside my cabin… with Willy’s help, of course. I’m not much of a handyman but I did give it a fresh coat of paint,” you examined the rowboat with intrigue, its mahogany coat glimmering under the sunlight. You noticed some cursive on the hull of the boat, “S.S. Granger?”

“Named after my high school English teacher, Mr. Granger,” the redhead explained, “He was the one who lit the spark of creativity and my passion for writing,” he smiled sadly at the boat, “We kept in touch after I graduated high school, but sadly, he passed away from cancer when I was finishing up my bachelors’ at East Ferngill University.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you gave Elliott’s arm a squeeze, a sign of support, “I’m sure he would be proud of the man you’ve become.”

“I hope so,” the writer sighed. Elliott shook off his melancholy and hopped onto the boat, extending a helping hand out to you, “Care to join me for its maiden voyage?”

“Of course,” you grasped Elliott’s hand and boarded the rowboat. You took a seat across from Elliott, who grabbed the oars and began rowing farther into the Gem Sea. The pier faded into the distance, as Elliott rowed the boat. By the time he stopped, you could only make out the silhouette of Stardew Valley, “Wow,” you were starstruck, “You can see the whole valley from here.”

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” the writer shuffled around a bit in his seat, “Although, I prefer the beautiful view right before my eyes.”

“You’re cheesy,” you snorted. Elliott shrugged his shoulders, “I would rather be cheesy if it means bringing a smile to your face,” you playfully nudged his arm, “You’re gonna make me melt.”

“Oh, my dear, don’t do that just yet,” Elliott cleared his throat, “I have another surprise for you,” you tilted your head with wonder, “Oh? You do?”

“I do,” the writer stated. He then secured the oars in the boat and began to recite, "Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate… Rough winds do shake the darling buds of Spring…”

You leaned in closer, entranced by your boyfriend’s words, as he continued, “And summer’s lease hath too short a date… Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines… And often is his gold complexion dimm’d… And every fair from fair sometime declines…” 

The world around you two came to a standstill, “By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d… But thy eternal summer shall not fade… Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st… Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade…”

You leaned closer and closer into Elliott’s space, you could inhale his sweet pomegranate perfume, or in his words, his eau de parfum, Elliott was always a stickler with his words. He stared into your eyes, your soul, as he finished the sonnet, “When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st… So long as men can breathe or eyes can see… So long lives this, and gives life to thee.”

“Ellie…” you whispered. The writer smiled, “For the first time in my lifetime, I was at a loss for words and it was the moment I laid eyes on you at Pierre’s. You took my breath away, my love. It was only fair to share it with you in the form of one, if not, the greatest love sonnets.”

“Ellie, what are you saying?” you watched, as Elliott pulled a small, velvet box from his pant pocket, “(Y/N),” his tone was deep with emotion, “My muse, my love, my darling, my dear. I have a thousand names for you but,” he pulled a velvet box from his pants pocket, “Will you do me the highest honor and allow ‘spouse’ be one of those names?” Elliott slowly opened the box and inside, there was a Mermaid Pendant.

You covered your mouth and muffled your scream of delight before calming down enough to answer, “Yes! Yes, Elliott, I will marry you!” you embraced the redhead, nearly tackling in the process. You kissed Elliott deeply, the flames of love and passion exploding like fireworks. In that very moment, everything in the world- no, everything in the universe- was simply perfect.

Chapter 11: Wedding Bells

You fidgeted with your Mermaid’s Pendant, as Marnie and Emily added the final touches to your wedding outfit. Once they finished your outfit, you promptly walked off from the mirror in your farmhouse and began to pace around the farmhouse, “Oh my Yoba, what if he changes his mind?” you spouted off your worries. 

“I highly doubt,” answered Leah, your person of honor, “If he dares to even think about leaving you at the altar, I’ll knock some sense into him,” she held up her fists, “And I mean knock some sense into him.”

“Thanks, Leah,” you sighed, relieved. Emily, a member of your wedding party, approached you with your bouquet, a small one made of summer spangles and sunflowers you grew on the farm, “You are gonna do great, (Y/N)!” she reassured you, “I’m manifesting it for you, you will do great.”

“Thanks, Emily,” you chuckled, “I can always count on your manifestations.”

“Are you ready, dear?” Marnie asked, “It’s almost time.”

“I’m as ready as I can be,” you answered. 

You exited the farmhouse with Emily, Leah, and Marnie; the four of you making way to the entrance of the beach near Cindersap Forest. You gripped the bouquet tightly, your chest just as tight with fear. Marnie stood beside you and held out her arm, you relaxed the hold on your bouquet and locked arms with Marnie.

“You’re such a gorgeous marrier,” the rancher told you, “I’m so honored to be the one who passes you off, I hope I do your parents’ duty proud.”

Your parents couldn’t attend the wedding, your father being overseas fighting in the Gotoro-Ferngill War and your mother on the other side of the Ferngill Republic with her responsibilities at the hospital she worked at. You responded to Marnie, “You’re like a mom to me, Marnie. It felt right that you would be the one to hand me off.”

“And you’re like one of my own, (Y/N),” she retorted. You stared out towards the beach, getting a small sneak peek at the wedding arch. It’s now or never. You gave Marnie a nod and she hollered to the trio of Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail by the entrance, “It’s time!”

“Alright!” Sam cheered, “Let’s rock!” the band launched into the wedding march and you began walking to the beach with your wedding party behind you. 

Before you, the entirety of Pelican Town sat in white fold out chairs on the beach, as you followed the row of fabric towards the wedding arch. Near the front of the crowd, you spotted two familiar figures in a suit and blue dress, your parents. When you passed them, you whispered to them, “You came.”

“We did!” your mom smiled at you, “It took some phone calls, but we didn’t want to miss our angel baby’s wedding,” your dad nodded in agreement, “I can handle Gotoro grunts on the front line, but the thought of missing my only child’s wedding? That’s unacceptable. I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay!” you replied, “It’s a great surprise!” you blew kisses at your parents and continued your walk to the wedding arch. Under the arch, Willy and Gus stood by Elliott as his wedding party. Your soon-to-be husband’s back faced you and once released to the altar by Marnie, you tapped Elliott on the back, “I’m here, honey.”

Elliott turned around and audibly gasped, “My darling! You- You-” tears suddenly formed in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, “Oh, my sweet darling, you look absolutely radiant,” he leaned in to kiss you, only to have Mayor Lewis shove his hand in between you, “Mr. Lovebird! No kissing until I say so!” he proclaimed. Elliott pouted at the mayor’s interruption, but nonetheless, he pulled back. 

The two of you smiled widely at the other, your eyes shimmering with anticipation. Lewis stood behind you and he began the ceremony, “Can all attendees rise?”

The wedding guests rose from their seats and Lewis spoke to everyone, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the love of Elliott and (Y/N). My dear friends,” he smiled at you and Elliott, “This is a new chapter in your lives, from the moment I proclaim them to be spouses to the day you die.”

“That’s the plan,” you mused, earning a few chuckles. Mayor Lewis let out a laugh, “Splendid! Then we should get right into it!” he continued with his opening remarks, but you paid no attention to him, as you found yourself lost in Elliott’s eyes. 

“Now, the marriers will exchange vows,” you perked up at the mention of vows, watching silently as Elliott pulled out a piece of parchment and unfolded it, “(Y/N)... As I mentioned before during our boat ride, I was at a loss of words when I first laid eyes on you,” he recited his vows.

He let out a shaky breath, on the verge of crying again, “And today, I am again at a loss for words. There are no words in our language that can accurately describe your beauty, your strength, your resilience, your passion, your love. (Y/N), I thank Yoba and the forces of the universe that we are here at this moment,” the redhead hastily wiped his tears away, “You are my world, (Y/N). I love you.”

A collection of ‘aws’ and cheers erupted from the audience, as they clapped for Elliott’s vows. You sniffled a bit and blinked back your own tears, “Damn,” you let out a wobbly laugh, “Your vows blew mine out of the water, honey,” you passed your bouquet to Leah and grasped Elliott’s hands, “Elliott, the day I met… I was hella pissed off that you grabbed my cereal.”

The crowd laughed and you added on, “I thought you were a dick for that, but when you explained to me that you only wanted to help… that spark of unprompted kindness lit a flame in me. As I got to know you, I found myself falling deeper and deeper in love with you. From your passion to your mannerisms to your silliness to your determination… Elliott, I can’t picture my future without you. I can’t wait to make a beautiful life with you.”

Another round of applause came from the wedding attendees and Elliott grinned at you, his eyes full of unabashed love for you. Mayor Lewis gestured for the applause to simmer down and once there was silence, he announced, “With the vows now done… It’s my honor to, on this lovely summer day, unite Elliott and (Y/N) together as one,” you squeezed Elliott’s hands, eager to hear the ‘okay’ to kiss.

“As the mayor of Pelican Town and regional bearer of the matrimonial seal…” the mayor stated, as you took a deep breath, “I now pronounce you spouses! You may kiss!” you and Elliott wasted no time when given the ‘okay’ to kiss, as Elliott dipped you and kissed you tenderly on the kiss. Cheers and hollers of joy erupted once more from the wedding attendees in celebration of your new matrimony. 

Elliott pulled you back up and finished the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. He whispered softly to you, “You’re my spouse,” to which you smiled, “And you’re my spouse,” you planted a kiss on Elliott’s cheek, “It’s time for our new chapter, isn’t it?”

“You’re right about that, my dear,” he answered, “The first chapter in our story.”

A new chapter, indeed.

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Epilogue: Remembrance

A redheaded woman in pantsuit stood in front of the orchard, fresh fruit hanging from the trees. Besides her, two small children held each of her hands. The woman heard the sound of footsteps, as a man in farmer overalls and similar red hair approached the orchard, his work boots crunching the autumn leaves. 

“Eleanor,” the farmer greeted the well-dressed woman, “Glad to see you here,” he supported his body against the hoe, “I didn’t think you would come.”

“I may be a busy woman, but I take offense that you doubt my attendance for this day, Elias,” Eleanor scoffed at Elias, the farmer. He shrugged his shoulders and instead commented, “You brought Kenny and Quinn with you?”

“Yes,” answered Eleanor, “I thought they deserved a chance to– Heyo!” a loud voice cut into the conversation, as another redhead appeared. They dressed in casual but neat attire, a flannel wrapped around their waist and their exposed arms displaying some old scars, “Sorry, I’m late! I got held up at my logging site.”

“Late as ever, Echo,” chuckled Elias. With a pout, Echo exclaimed, “Hey! Not my fault that I had to cut down a whole forest after last week’s wildfire!”

“Enough, you two,” Eleanor stated, “Do you have the supplies?” to which Echo and Elias confirmed that they did, “Splendid,” she squatted down to her children’s levels, “Kenny, Quinn… I know this might seem scary, but Mommy’s here to keep you safe, okay? You might not understand it now, but you deserve the chance to see them.”

“Okay, Mommy,” replied Kenny and Quinn. Eleanor squeezed their hands and with that, the group entered the orchard, going deeper and deeper until they made it to their destination. Two gravestones stood proudly in the center of the orchard, a few dead fruits and flowers by them. Echo pulled out a trash bag and collected the dead items while Eleanor and Elias set down fresh pomegranates and sunflowers. 

“Mommy, where are we?” asked Quinn.

“We’re at your…” Eleanor blinked back tears, “These are your grandparents, you were very little when they went to Yoba, but they loved you both so very much.”

Kenny stared out at the gravestones and squinted, “Mommy, what do they say?”

Eleanor read the gravestone engravings aloud, “The one on the left has ‘Elliott Cunnigham’ at the top and below it, it says ‘Beloved Writer, husband, and father.’ The one on the right has ‘(Y/N) Cunningham’ with the words ‘Beloved Town Hero, spouse, and parent’,” Eleanor looked up at Echo and Elias with tears in her eyes, “Can one of you do it?”

“I got it,” answered Elias. He approached Eleanor’s side and grabbed the final offering, setting it down between the graves, “We can go if you want.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” replied Echo. Eleanor nodded in agreement, “Let’s go to the Stardrop Saloon, I think Gus would be happy to see all of us together.”

“Sounds like a great plan,” chuckled Elias. 

With everyone in tow, the siblings and their children left the orchard, leaving the gravestones at peace for another year. The final offering laid still in the space between the burial sites. 

A single box of cereal.

[shady-tavern]

Preview for "Kindness is Undoing" the October Short Story

Once upon a time, there lived a young girl who had a braggart for a father. It was well known by everyone in town that his tales were greatly exaggerated and while many enjoyed listening to them, they knew better than to believe him.

His daughter grew up with such fantastic tales as well. Grand tales on how her father had once saved a lord and then given the reward away to a beggar. They didn't have much themselves, not with how much time her father spent at the tavern night after night, but a beggar would have had even less she thought, so what her father had done was very kind and selfless.

As she grew she understood that none of her father's stories were true, that he was more likely to pocket the coin a beggar lost and drink it away than return it. He was only generous where others could see and only if it benefited him in some way.

"Don't feed the strays," her father told her when he saw her toss out leftovers that he refused to eat. "They'll only come back for more."

The strays did return, so the young woman only fed them when her father wasn't around, sneaking them dry, hard crusts of bread, bits of cheese and vegetables and leftover bones. Whatever she could set aside for the animals she gave them.

One day there was a very ragged looking bird. Only, it wasn't a bird at all, but perhaps the shoddiest glamour in existence. It was a fae, who was trying and failing to blend in. The young woman felt somewhat amused, though she also remained polite and cautious.

She fed the bird like she would have fed the others and it left behind a little wriggling worm made of gold. She put it into the garden, feeling befuddled about what she was meant to do with a golden worm. It was alive, clearly, and she felt sorry for the helpless little thing.

The bird certainly squawked for quite a while when it noticed what she had done, though strangely enough, she got the impression that it was glad rather than upset.

In return, the food she grew in the garden in front of their small house was always plentiful, the plants healthy and strong. Her neighbors complimented her and every bit of food she shared with them made them light up, the vegetables and fruit tasting downright divine.

"My daughter can turn even rotten food into a feast," her father bragged and where, previously, the other folk in the tavern had smiled at his exaggerated boasting, this time a few exchanged glances.

While they didn't think his daughter had the sort of magic needed to undo the rot of time, they still thought that there was something special to her food. The young woman was none the wiser, for she stayed away from the tavern, tending to the garden and her job with the seamstress.

The fae bird however seemed to have vanished, leaving only regular birds behind. Or, so she thought. 

The next time she ran into the fae winter had arrived and he was among the stray cats meowing in front of her door. He once again looked like a trully ragged version of an animal, a clear shimmer of glamour coating his scraggly fur. 

It was certainly befuddling, but she let him into the house just like the other cats to curl up in front of the fire to stay warm and she set down bowls of fish that a neighbor had traded her for some of her jam, made from the berries grown in her garden. 

There was more fish than she could eat and for lack of storing and salting options, she offered them gladly to the animals.

Winter was a rough time for everyone and her father loved to stay out until late at night and often enough he didn't come home at all, sleeping in front of the fire in the tavern along with the other local drunks, so she had the house all to herself.

She put out blankets and pillows for the cats and in the morning, the ragged cat left behind a fish that shimmered and glittered like it was made out of jewels more beautiful than even royalty owned. 

She hurriedly scooped the fish up to drop it into a bucket she hastily filled with water. Unsure what she was meant to do with a fish of all things, she got dressed, carefully covered the bucket and tucked it under her coat to keep it warm enough as she shuffled out into the cold and snow.

It was a bit of a journey to the nearby lake and she was out of breath and covered in sweat by the time she had hacked a big enough hole into the ice to let the fish slide into the lake.

It immediately brightened further, shimmering so beautiful it stole her breath away and it swam circled just below the surface, where it would have been easy for her to scoop it back up.

She found herself smiling at the joy of the fish and when she stepped back, it vanished into the depths of the lake with one last glimmer. Smiling, glad that the fish had a chance of survival, she truged back home, seeing the fae cat on her way back.

It was hard to read the expression of an animal that wasn't an animal at all, but there was something thoughtful to it. She bowed politely and after a moment the cat blinked and and dipped its head back at her.

It vanished between one moment and the next, turning to breezes that blew away.

The fae cat did not show up again and winter passed. Even before the last snow passed her plants already poked out of the earth, determined and hardy. They grew first out of all the other plants and they grew faster and stronger as well.

On her way to work at the seamstress' house, the young woman passed by the lake and each time the fish as there, bigger now than it had been before, glimmering and well fed. And each time she walked back from work by with things she had made folded in her satchel, the cotton and linen turned to silk, the simple embroidery thread becoming gold and silver.

The young woman never brought anything she made to the fish, she knew better than to demand magic that wasn't freely given. Besides, it was more than enough already. She never went hungry, her neighbors often trading the best parts of their own meals and hunting with her for her berries and fruit and vegetables.

The fine clothing she traded away for other things and soon the roof of the small house she and her father lived in was properly thatched, the chimney free of chinks and her cupboards filled with honey and candles and herbs and spices.

Even traders began to stop by their small town to ask for some of her garden produce or if she had recently made anything she was willing to part with.

She caught glimpses of the fae from time to time, either as a ragged bird or a scraggly cat and she always bowed a little and left food out for it. The fae seemed puzzled and soon she had company as she worked in the garden or as she weaved bolts of cloth, sewing them into whatever was needed once she was done and bringing the rest to the seamstress.

It was quiet, pleasant company and for all that she knew to be wary of the fae, this one seemed strange. Once or twice she wondered if this was all the fae could do, if it could only exist as a bird or cat and nothing else. Not everything magical was powerful, after all.

She didn't mind, nor did she particularly care if her strange friend was special, she liked them well enough and told them so on one occassion.

The cat blinked and then curled up and fell asleep on the same patchwork pillow that it had claimed in winter. The young woman smiled and kept sewing. And if the cotton turned to silk under her hands and the dyed linen thread to gold, she only noticed so when she was done.

Her father was incredibly proud, boasting that his girl could turn rough, unspun wool into silk and fraying linen thread into gleaming embroidery. That she had turned all the copper in their household into gold.

The other patrons exchanged glances and for all his exaggerated boasting they did wonder how the girl got her hands on so many wonderful things. She did not seem to be a thief, for no one in town was so rich as to own silk clothing and no one's gardens were as good as hers.

It happened then that a lord passed through their town on his journey back home and he overheard the father's boasting as he ate his fill in the tavern. The lord was young and handsome and rich, but hearing the father's boasting woke something greedy and callous and mean within him.

What a brazen thing, the lord thought, of a fool to boast of such magical things. But oh, if it was true, what a treasure he would have found in this backwater town. If it was true, he deserved to have it. If it wasn't, he'd make sure to put a liar in his place.

"I will take her to my castle in the morning," he demanded as he rose, startling the tavern silent. "Three days she has to turn my rotten food into a feast, my linen into silk and my copper into gold."

The father, for just a moment, wished to protest, but there was nothing he could do after his loud bragging than oblige. Even if he hadn't bragged, no one was allowed to deny the young lord anything. He was the most favored nephew of the king and after the death of the king's son he was next in line. One day the throne would be his and his power and influence was great.

"I will send her come dawn," the father said, resigned and nervous. 

The young lord smiled and said, "No, I will have her fetched by one of mine to ensure she really comes." He snapped his fingers and one of his knights stepped away. The lord dipped his head in a mockery of politeness before he left to retire for the night, feeling quite satisfied with himself.

*.*.*

The full story will go live on October the first on my patreon and ko-fi! Thank you all so much for your incredible support, be it memberships, kudos or reblogs and comments! You all make it a joy to share my writing with you.

If you wish to check out more of my writing, feel free to head over to my masterpost!

[beardedmrbean]

During the summer of 2020, I worked as a consultant for multiple progressive DA candidates backed by George Soros and his foundation. In the places where they won, these DAs have since done immeasurable damage to the local communities. They failed to prosecute offenders, especially surrounding drug use and distribution, and allowed crime to run rampant, hurting communities of color the most—the very people they were supposedly trying to help.

Far from progressive, these Soros-backed DAs did more to hurt progressives than anything the Right has managed; to everyday Americans, the term "progressive" now conjures up images of fentanyl overdoses, crime, defecation in the streets, and riots.

I feel remorse for the work I did on these campaigns. The Soros money that was contributed to progressive DA races would have been better spent on supportive housing, mental health services, and recovery programs. Police need resources to arrest and imprison drug dealers and end open-air drug use. This is just common sense.

Unfortunately, the Soroses are just the tip of the iceberg.

I spent years fundraising for Democrats. I raised millions of dollars. And in the process, I routinely saw and heard about inappropriate relationships between donors and candidates that would bust anyone's bubble about the independence of our leaders. There is an entire donor ecosystem working against the interests of regular Americans—and it's the one top Democrats are swimming in.

Consider the long-time friendship between Kamala Harris and billionaire donor Laurene Powell Jobs, the widow of Steve Jobs. The New York Times described the women as being so close that they've gone on vacation together and consider each other family. Powell Jobs sat in Harris' exclusive friends and family suite at the DNC last month. She was also instrumental in getting Biden to step down to clear the way for Harris; one of her top aides circulated a polling memo to other key influential donors that allegedly showed Biden's inability to win.

It was another example of a megadonor overcoming the will of the people—and making things worse for voters. Now that the Kool-Aid from the DNC is wearing off, people are waking up to the realities of an untested candidate. Harris is barely beating Biden in key swing state polls, dodges questions from the press, and continually gaffes answers on significant policy issues. She can barely answer basic questions about her plans for regular people in friendly encounters with people like Oprah.

This is what happens when a candidate is anointed by donors and not selected by voters.

Or take Reid Hoffman, co-founder of LinkedIn. He is a megadonor—a "big fish" as we would call him behind the scenes—and is expected to spend up to $100 million to ensure that Vice President Kamala Harris beats former President Donald Trump in the presidential election. But Hoffman has an agenda: He has publicly called for the resignation of FTC Chairwoman Lina Khan, who Hoffman said is "at war with American business."

The reality is somewhat different: Khan has been one of the only lifelines for working people in the modern Democratic machine. She stood up for workers' rights by banning non-compete agreements and led efforts to block major mergers of grocery stores like the Kroger-Albertsons, which would have resulted in higher food prices and hurt union workers.

If Hoffman is successful in his public campaign to replace Khan, he will further cement the Democrats as the party of the wealthy, the powerful, and corporate elite. I won't be surprised when he gets the job done.

Another name I've seen pop up many times in my years fundraising for progressive candidates is the San Francisco based Democratic donor and influencer Steve Phillips. Phillips has written books that focus heavily on the importance of race in politics, with titles like Brown Is the New White: How the Demographic Revolution Has Created a New American Majority and How We Win the Civil War: Securing a Multiracial Democracy and Ending White Supremacy for Good.

Yet, Donald Trump is on track to secure more support from minority voters, especially Black men, than any other Republican in generations. It's becoming increasingly clear that the real divide is the one separating the college educated from the working class of all races. But Phillips and others like him continue to focus exclusively on race—and you can see the direct impact this has on Democratic politicians, who talk much more about things like "equity" than they do about the class divide.

It's out of touch with the pulse of the country and deeply alienating to working-class voters who were once stalwart Democrats.

Unfortunately, the Democrats aren't getting the message. Last week, Alexander Soros posted images at his opulent New York mansion on X with Harris' VP pick, Tim Walz.

Is this how you convince people you're the party of the people? By posing with a billionaire nepo baby while Americans struggle to pay for groceries?

Some Democrats surely know how damaging such a photo is to their flailing brand. But Soros has so much power and influence that no one would dare tell him to take the photo down.

Internally, the Democrats know that like the photo of Walz with Alex Sorors, the Soros-funded criminal justice policies have been an embarrassing failure from an outcome, messaging, and public perception standpoint. They also know that Reid Hoffman and Laurene Powell Jobs do not have the best interests of regular Americans at heart—but they will continue to cower to them anyway.

Forget "Kamala is Brat" or the "Joy!" campaign. The image of Soros with Walz perfectly encapsulates the Democrats' real vibe these days—the unfettered influence the donors have over this party and the lives they've destroyed in the process.

[starwrighter]

I am not a baby!! (Yes you are)

(Ao3) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

(Part seven lmao)

Sometimes Danny hated being right. Mentally he cursed himself as he clamored into his lifepod. The Aurora was spilling radiation into the water just like predicted it would. A damaged drive core... That didn't bode well for him or the local wildlife. He was a Fenton! He knew the terminology for "This might blow up," in every language, no matter how needlessly complicated you said it.

A radiation suit would be helpful when the ship blew up, if not for him, then for the other survivors. Danny grew up surrounded by radioactive material, he was about as fucked up as one could get, but there was still time left for the other survivors. If there even were any left.

Shaking his head, Danny opened the storage plucking out the remaining Creepvine clusters, and started fabricating. It was hypnotic, Creepvine clusters to lubricant, copper and mushrooms to a battery and copper wire all that and a piece of titanium gave Danny a functioning Seaglide. The device was heavy, the PDA altering the blueprint so it was usable for him.

Opening the hatch up, eager to test his new toy out, Danny dove back into the water faster than ever before. Propellers spun at speeds that would chop his finger clean off if he touched them. A glowing map at the top and a flashlight he could turn off by squeezing the handles. Quick enough to keep up with the peepers while still being able to make quick sharp turns.

The Device whirled as he swam in circles, up, down, left, right, zigzag! Through coral tubes, around stone arches till he got dizzy, divebombing fish and kicking up sand.

"Congratulations, survivor. you have exceeded your weekly exercise quotient by 500 percent. Data indicates that swimming was your favorite activity,"

Heck yeah it was! Swimming is great! He's fast as hell man, radiation could eat shit! Stalkers wouldn't stand a chance, he'd just outpace them! Swimming around, breaking outcrops, and taking samples of table coral for a computer chip. Danny was having a blast!

In time he would have the materials to fabricate a habitat builder and in turn a super cool sea base! A home away from home while he's stuck outside federation space. Currently, the seabase blueprints he had were...limited, but he could work with that!

Rushing to his fabricator the blue lights felt agonizingly slow as he bounced on the heels of his feet, flippers squeaking against the floor. A habitat builder fell into Danny's impatient hands.

Back in the water, Danny scoped out the area. Access to an abundance of resources, food, and water was a necessity. Along with awareness of local predators. The shallows are a perfect place for him to build right now. A temp base to rest and store stuff before moving somewhere more convenient as he explored and met up with any of the other survivors.

Deciding to test out his new tool, Danny placed down a basic compartment. A tiny little tube that would've been big enough if he only needed a place to sleep. Yeah, that wasn't going to work. How was he supposed to pace aimlessly while he wrote notes? How was he supposed to work and live in a high-tech pool noodle? Disassembling the pathetic tube, Danny swam through the shallows plucking up the quartz needed for glass. More materials would be needed to build his base. Thankfully, he’d crashed in a ship made from and carrying the materials he needed. Danny saw no moral issue with “borrowing” titanium from supply crates light enough to lift, but the PDA seemed to have a small issue with it. With a few minutes of tinkering, it was easy to change the machine’s artificial mind.

A loop, he was going to make a base shaped like a zero because that’s how many fucks he gave about Alterra’s dumb rule. Placed upon foundations was the start of his perfect space base. The sides of the Zero became glass compartments, a perfect place to observe the local wildlife. Solar panels mounted jumpstarted the oxygen production, lights blinding when they snapped on. Fish drifted by his base, some ducking underneath his foundations settling comfortably in the shade provided. Maybe if he was here long enough, he’d grow some plants for fish to nibble on?

A hatch was placed on the front of the Zero, finally giving him access to his new base. Cold air punched him in the face as he stepped inside, but it was a welcome attack. Air conditioning at last! Throwing himself to the floor, Danny giggled, noise bouncing against barren walls. A sterile smell cycled through the base with the air filtered in. Like his parent's lab or a hospital room freshly sanitized. Familiar, it smelled like home.

Peeling off his flippers, Danny propped them against the wall. Bare feet against metal floors, Danny took to running through the loop. Brushing his hands against empty walls, he ran laps like it was gym class. The only difference was this wasn't gym class, so it didn't feel like hell. Several laps ran throughout his base until his breath ran out, and he collapsed to the floor.

Winded and panting, he glanced around his base mentally, planning where everything would go. Blueprints were limited, but brainpower wasn't. Making new blueprints for shelving units or a bed should be easy enough. The hard part would be finding the space for it. If he tinkered with the PDA, he could fabricate some blankets and pillows that he could sleep on and store away when he was awake.

First things first, he needed to get a fabricator and some storage set up. A few wall lockers on each side of the fabricator made his little crafting station. His base still felt bare. White walls would get boring real fast. No paint or paper he could use to decorate. No stickers or wallpaper to paint his base to match the stars. Untapped Potential, something to add to his to-do list. If he couldn't decorate anything else, changing the locker's text font would have to do.

Walking in a loop, Danny muttered, his brain working better than his mouth. Words failed, coming out jumbled if they were more than one or two easy syllables. Fangs created a lisp that'd get him verbally castrated if he was back at Casper. That was if he didn't maul them with his newfound face knives. Like a piranha, he was dangerous! Fierce!

Tap...Tap...Tap

Feet freezing, Danny turned to the window, heart jumping to his throat. Several glowing eyes stared back at him, burning a hole into his soul. Stripes of colors ranging from blue, purple, and forest green ran along its massive scaly body and dragon-like head. Two razor-sharp fangs poked out of a closed mouth. Arms glowing blue that faded to pitch black when reaching its four-fingered hands, each claw sharper than a sword. Hands, oh ancients, why does this one have hands? The other one didn't have hands! Curled up, it would be the same size as his base. Danny pointed his scanner at the guy, the results striking terror into the deepest depths of his core...

What the fuck do you mean this guy's a juvenile!?!

@ashoutinthedarkness @avelnfear @meira-3919 @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @hugsandchaos @blep-23 @zeldomnyo @bytheoldwillowtree @justwannabecat @shepherdsheart @starlightcat04 @stargazing-bookwyrm @pupstim

[witchofthesouls]

Hey! I saw an earlier post you had about the boys in the grocery store and it got me wondering about how they would react to hunting. I’m a hunter, have been all my life. I hunt deer, boars, ducks, coyotes, turkeys, quails, pheasants, wild Burmese pythons, and I fish locally too (strictly a vermin exterminator and food hunter, I find sports hunting to be distasteful and I strictly use a bow and arrow, no traps or guns as I take issues with those too). I can picture the absolute horror of the TFP or Lost Light bots seeing their/a human skinning and processing an animal that they just hunted for food, they see the modern convinces that are grocery stores so it’s easy to forget where human food actually comes from 😂

Weirdly enough, IDW/MTMTE does have Cybertronian edibles like cesium salami and rust sticks.

But then again, there's a big percentage of the crew members who were produced by the war, so there's a great chance that they didn't get a crash course on things that were deemed "unnecessary," like Cybertronian cuisine and fauna to forage and hunt.

TFP Cybertronians, on the other hand, have Questions.

Get ready to pull up diagrams, manuals, videos, and live demonstrations via YouTube or your own hands because they got the curiosity of two-year-old with the capacity to keep you in their palm for no escape.

Ratchet absolutely hates it. It's too messy and squishy and completely unalike the organized and relatively clean method of converting crystals to fuel. Horrified over the mysteries of hotdogs and how everything can and will kill humans without specific preparations to negate the toxins. Ratchet is boggled over spice challenges and how the hell humanity hadn't died in its infancy over culinary explorations. Someone told him to look up Hákarl.

He takes great displeasure when the kids sass him over Cybertronians eating their own blood. Different. Absolutely different. He clucks over the base kitchen and is not above making things disappear. He argues with June and Agent Fowler over the groceries and fast food bags. Ratchet's crunchy.

Bulkhead actually enjoys fishing. He's more catch and release rather than for keeping and gutting. He likes soaking up the heat of the sun, the sound of running water, birdsong, and insects buzzing, the gear setup and picking out the right lure and bait. It's a different kind of downtime, but it's nice. All he's missing is engex, but he's able to throw a line farther out than anyone else and has the capability to detect motion far greater than an average human. He still wants an engex cube.

Arcee has mixed feelings. She enjoys hunting. Patience, tracking, stealth, and the sense of accomplishment with a clean catch. She likes less the process of handling carcasses, but really hates waste anything that could have been useful. Meat, leather, tools, jewelry, and raw ingredients that could be sold or traded. Arcee just doesn't like sharing something with Airachnid's methods.

Bumblebee's a scout. People expected him to like foraging or the wilds. He prefers domesticated stock. In particular, beekeeping. To him, it represents a more equivalent partnership: he provides accessible resources and safe quarters and the bees yield honey, comb, and wax in return. If the hive don't like him or the area, then they can leave elsewhere.

Optimus is deeply fascinated by how Earth's biodiversity is so immense and how ecosystems are so diverse and complex, yet so fragile. He quietly wishes for Alpha Trion's presence because Optimus is seeing familiar similarities of Cybertronian long gone biomes: wetlands, woodlands, and reefs. The Sea of Rust once was a massive ocean of mineral-laden Energon. It has long since disappeared by the consensus of heavy, unregulated industrialization, but if Earth has the water cycle, ocean currents and belts, and complex system of thermoregulation that replenishes itself, then Cybertron had to have something similar at one point, no?

[brewed-pangolin]

Just a little something that came into my mind....

MDNI 18+: sexual themes, slight mentions of choking

Soap MacTavish x f!Reader x Alex Mason

Grocery shopping with Johnny is such a hassle.

First of all, it seems like every time he comes back from deployment, the local mart decides to renovate and rearrange everything from one end of the store to the other.

You've already become accustomed to the topography. But Johnny? No. And he must traverse up and down every aisle until he gets his bearings or he'll go mad.

-

"I swear, bonnie. Why'd they 'ave ta put the toiletries next ta th'canned vegetables. Makes no bloody sense."

You roll your eyes and continue on. Cart in tow as he meanders around the corner to take a gander in the baking aisle.

"Don't even think about it, MacTavish. It ain't happening."

"Ah c'mon," his Scottish baritone echoed over the shelves as you made your way to the produce section. "Y'know I got a sweet spot for them brownies a'yers."

"No. Now c'mon. We got veggies to pick out."

"Wha'? Ya gettin' sick a me pickle already, lass?"

You had to refrain from slapping him in the shoulder as he made his way around the shelves behind you. Whatever incredulous insult you had brimming on your tongue disappeared as you took in your surroundings and gave him a glare that only fueled him further along.

"John MacTavish, I swear..."

"Swear on me pickle."

"Go get the sweet potatoes, John. Before I knock you into next Tuesday," you spat back with a quivering curl to your lips. Pointing to the potatoes as you turned your attention to the greens in hopes of restraining the laugh bubbling within your chest.

The next chore entailed the two of you arguing over what cooking oil was best used for your expert culinary skills.

"I'm tellin' ya, hen. Olive oil is tha way ta go."

"Agreed. But I've been using avocado oil for a while, and I'm really enjoying it."

"Aye. But tha olive oil makes it taste better."

You glared at him with a furrowed brow. Biting back yet another sparky comment as a mother and child pranced beside you.

"Choose your next words wisely, Mr. MacTavish. Or it'll be your ass I'm sending into the composter."

The crystalline blue of his eyes was all the signaling you needed that he had an alterior motive to his bantering. And as much as you enjoyed his company, you knew he'd end up breaking away to indulge himself in the newest automotive products.

"Go. I'll send a smoke flare when I'm done."

"Yer th'best, bonnie."

With a quick peck on your cheek, he was gone. Trotting down the back aisle like a conquering hero as you continued on with the finer details of convenient store enrichment.

Twenty minutes later, you were making your down the main corridor when you heard a distinctive voice ring against the shell of your ear. One that did not belong to your beloved Scot. Yet just as familiar as you made turned the corner to the tire section.

"Alex Mason. Great. Now, I'll never be able to get you two dumbasses outta here."

He answered back with a coitish smile. Golden orbs glistening as he took you in and igniting a flame in your belly you hadn't felt since you last saw him.

"Hiya, love. Lookin' beautiful as always I see."

The smoothness of his voice was warm, fluid like honey running down your back as you recalled how sweetly he muttered the most deranged depravity against the back your neck.

The image of you in the mirror with Mason's hand wrapped so perfectly around your neck as he bent you over and pistoned his cock into your needy cunt. The only sounds keeping you in the moment were your bellowing moans, mixed in so seamlessly with Soap's vigorous grunts as he worked himself off in the corner like a voyeuristic madman.

"Ya good, bonnie?"

Soap's voice pulled you out of your blissed out memory like a fish on a hook. Stunned as the fluorescent light of the store came washing over you, blinking rapidly to bring yourself back to reality within the department store.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." You nodded. More for your own sake than there's as you took a gander at the items resting in your cart. Taking a mental note of the newest additions as Soap methodically stalked his way around you.

It was the distinct turquoise packaging and unique royal blue font that caught your eye first. The cursive 'glide' etched across the midsection quickly had your pulse racing as a familiar throb began to echo deep within your core.

"Was jus' talkin bout havin' an encore, bonnie. Me bein' back from deployment an' all," Soap breathed soflty against the edge of your neck. His brogue thick, unbridled as he carefully pressed himself against your back. "But this time, it'd be my hand round tha' pretty little throat a'yers."

You could feel he was holding back. Cautious of his surroundings yet unable to contain his overwhelming need, pressing his arousal into your backside as your eyes flew to Mason for any glimpse of guidance.

His golden eyes gave you nothing in return. Only a sinful promise swirled behind the darkness of his irises you were hastily brought to the checkout aisle. Both men cemented to each hip as your items scanned aimlessly over the register's worn screen.

Ignoring her questioning gaze as she hid the anal lube in a double bag with the elongated kielbasa.

"Have a good evening, ma'am." She murmured with a curt smile, giving both men a quick glance before effortlessly turning her attention to the next customer.

And you had every intention to make good on her remark, having a less than quiet night while being simultaneously filled and bent over between both men.

Pockets Full of Stones Masterlist

[kahvilahuhut]

one sunny afternoon

(see the whole drawing on my art blog)

summary: Klara & Toby decided to spend part of their summer vacation at Klara's brother's farm. Here we have Toby go tell Klara that the dinner is ready, but then they end up talking about completely different things. :3

no content warnings

"Hey! Enjoying the weather?"

Klara turned around and saw Tobias waving his hand, holding a tea cup in his other, wearing a light yellow sweater and purple-ish overalls. Not something it usually wears but, man, looking incredible. "Hey! Yeah, it's very sunny with little clouds. Went for a swim, too," she said, a smile on her face, "Uh, by the way, what's with the outfit?"

"Oh, this? Um," Tobias laughed, "I dropped a strawberry jam sandwich on my fish sweater. Måns was going to the town and asked if I want to go to the store with him. Ended up finding these in the local thrift shop. I kinda like them, I guess? The overalls are really comfortable."

"You look amazing in them."

It smiled widely, "Heh, thank you so much!" Tobias looked at her for a moment. "Oh, um! Have a nice swim?"

Klara nodded. "The water's surprisingly warm. Though, now I have sand all over my legs."

"Sounds fun."

"Sure is! I was thinking about going there again, wanna join?"

"I, well, I don't know. I mean-" Tobias looked at the beach, and the dark water. "It's not too deep, is it?"

"No, no, don't worry."

"Okay, well. Hmm... It's not that I don't know how to swim, I do, it's really fun, but, well... I'm scared of water where I can't see the botton, you know? Be it a swimming pool, I'd be completely fine. But, well..."

"Honey, it's okay. Don't worry," Klara smiles and kissed its forehead. "You don't have to do thing you're not into."

"You're the best," Tobias smiled back and looked at his hands. "Oh! Just remembered. I brought you this," it gave her the cup of tea it was holding the whole time.

"Thank you!" Klara took a sip, "Didn't know you took the tea box on the trip."

"I bought it in the local town's store! They have surprisingly large quantity of different teas," he said while climbing up to sit on the gazebo's wall. Hands tightly gripping the wood to stop wobbling on it and not to fall, Tobias continued, "I do hope their quality is as good as quantity," it chuckled.

"It's really good, wanna try?"

"Mmh, maybe one sip," Klara watched him slightly lean down to take a sip from the cup she was holding, "Okay, yea, really good!"

"All thanks to you."

"God, don't be ridiculous, it's the tea quality that's more important."

"Mmhmm, but it's you who made it and also brought the cup here for me to enjoy after cold water."

"You said it was warm."

"You get the idea."

They both laughed and looked at each other for a moment, with wide smiles on their faces.

"By the way, um, I've been meaning to ask," Tobias began, "Is everything okay? I mean, um, how should I say this... It feels like you're, well, anxious, jittery, lately? I don't know how to explain it. Especially when we're alone here in the orchards or something," he paused and looked st Klara, "I hope I didn't, well, do anything wrong? Or-"

"Sunshine, relax, everything is fine," she leaned closer to hug it, "It's just, well, uh. It's about something I was planning to do. And then I didn't. And now I'm annoyed because I couldn't do it."

"Oh, um. Can I help?"

"No, no. Unless you can teleport to San Francisco."

Tobias smirked, "Well, no, sadly can't do that," it touched Klara's back gently and smiled, "Can you tell me what you were going to do? Maybe that will help?"

"I'm- ugh. It was supposed to be a surprise for you, kinda. I was going to-" she paused and glanced at the beach, took a deep breath and turned back to face Tobias. "I was going to, um, propose to you. But I thought that Måns had the ring I was going to use, and instead found out that he left it at family house."

"Oh! Um. Well. That's totally okay, don't worry about it," it smiled, "I can wait, if you want. But, um, just know that I don't need any rings to say yes. The answer's definitely yes."

"Wh- Are you sure?"

"Yes! Yes, of course! I don't think I've been more sure about something as much as about this."

"Man, you are too adorable," she hugged it tight, burying her face in its neck, "I love you so much."

"I love you too, honey," Tobias murmured and kissed her head. "By the way, I think one of Måns's partners has a license to officiate marriages. That is, if you want to do something that involves some kind of rings."

"You know what? Why not, why wait. Who is it?"

"I don't remember. We can ask on the dinner if you want. Because I totally just realized that the reason I originally came here - along with the tea - was to tell you that dinner is almost ready. Oops."

"God, why are you always so cute," Klara picked up the empty tea cup in one hand and held Tobias's hand with the other, "Let's go then."

"Mmhmm. Oh, and," it smirked, "we could also go swimming again , later. If you can hold my hand like that there, too."

"Sunshine, I can hold you even closer if you want to."

"Damn, now that's a tempting proposal~"

[the-starry-seas]

ottaburas crossed my dash again and i couldn't resist making some of my own this time, since i saw the lineart that @sundownsquad provided. i decided to give these guys to the ghost squad in their post-war/sanctuary era!

Chestnut, a young male belonging to Harlow. Harlow's first reaction to seeing ottas was to borrow a local saying and call them 'an odd chestnut'. The name stuck (and became much more affectionate). He's old enough to have finished training but his steady nature is what's really responsible for his 'bombproof' reputation. He has yet to be bothered by anyhting, as far as they can tell, and is far more likely to explore a new thing with his mouth than feel any fear. Patterned after a bay roan with a badger face and I used kumuology on dA's roan brush for his coat.

Ruusaan is a female a few months old that Tally's been hand-raising (aka spoiling her rotten). She's too smart for her own good, which is mostly expressed through her general disinterest in training. Getting her to obey relies heavily on her wanting to go along with the idea, and there's no such thing as making her carry cargo. Despite that, she's generally a very calm individual who reserves trouble-making for when she's bored. I was going to give some spots to Chestnut but then I thought they'd look much better on a dark coat!

Liberty is the sweetest and most affectionate of the bunch. She'd be happy to quite literally be in Boom's pocket, and if not given sufficient attention, will try to put herself there so he has to look at her. He lets her get away with more than he should and they both know it. She was bought to help with plowing the fields and hauling the produce from them, but ended up mostly being there as a companion for Boom. He's trained her to help him get up if his prosthetic leg breaks, and she's happy to fetch him things (even if they all end up with teeth marks). She's also the favourite of Sanctuary's kids, and she's quite happy to let them feed her treats all day long and use her as a jungle gym (as long as they don't pull at her whiskers or ears, and they know to be polite).

Snack, short for Snack Sized, was originally thought to be a baby otta, like Ruusaan. When he didn't grow up any bigger, though, the Ghosts realised that he was fully grown at half the size of the others. One of the shinies quipped that he was snack sized and the name stuck. He decides early on that Cav is his human and they're not to be separated under any circumstances. Cav isn't convinced about that (neither is his wife for that matter) until he realises just how comforting Snack's presence can be, and trains him as a service dog. Taking Snack to the store can be a real adventure due to his size, but he's polite, and the locals are both familiar with ottas and rather fond of Sanctuary's citizens, so he's welcome in most places.

Ceru, short for Cerulean due to his blue colour, is Ray's BFF. She thinks he's the coolest otta ever, and who's to tell her otherwise? They go hiking a lot, exploring the area around Sanctuary, and occasionally fishing, foraging, or packing back hunted meat. Ceru's gotten very good at fishing from the river nearby, and Ray couldn't be prouder of him. The only trouble is getting him out of the water... and keeping him from shaking water all over anybody in the vicinity. They're the unofficial lifeguards when others are at the river, as Ceru is faster and more manuverable in the water than human swimmers or boats. He's got a sixth sense for digging up mushrooms.

Nox never does anything halfway, and that includes their choice (and decoration) of otta, Regina. She's by far the fastest in the area, which combined with an innate surefootedness and responsiveness to scent training, makes them a crack team when it comes to tracking and search-and-rescue. She'll only work with Nox, though, and bites anyone else who touches her without offering a treat first. Nox has done nothing to curb this behaviour. When SAR help isn't needed, she's winning races, being an animal ambassador to people who have never seen an otta before, herding livestock, and generally having the run of the lake in her downtime. She's painted with a mangōpare on her back leg for strength and courage, and a puhoro on her front leg for speed and agility.

Alor is the largest of Sanctuary's ottas, and the most protective. His primary role is a guardian of both livestock and people. Karla takes him on all the long-distance trips the other Ghosts take, and the rest of the time, he wanders about as he pleases between the livestock areas. He learned to open the gates he couldn't jump over, and at least he's polite enough to nudge them closed after he's through. Affectionate bites are nothing out of the ordinary, and tend to draw some blood even when he doesn't mean them to, so it's fortunate that aggressive biting isn't so much a thing - he flings the offender halfway across Sanctuary instead. He's partially deaf so people learn to make sure that he knows they're approaching him.

Quantum was named before she came to them, and nobody's really sure how she got that name. Shay sometimes takes after Nox and paints his own wave-pattern tattoos on her legs, but she does tend to roll in whatever water or mud she comes across, so he reserves the paint for special occasions. She's the strongest otta and also the most stubborn. Shay is the only one who can get her to do anything. He says it's because he's best at scratching her favourite spot under her chin and evidently she agrees. Even though she would do anything for him (and vice versa), other humans are none of her concern. She's a one-guy type of otta. She's got the smallest bit of white around her toes and the edges of her ears, at the tip of her tail, and a heart-shaped spot on her nose.

Ladybird belongs to Cav's wife, Seku. They're a pair of easygoing older ladies who enjoy taking it slow. She's also the otta responsible for guarding the daycare! When she's not napping with her head in Seku's lap, anyway, because they both very much enjoy that. Neither of them would let anyone but Seku ride her, that only occasionally, and they always take it slow. Seku loves her as a companion and needs nothing more from her. I couldn't draw her brindle stripes to my satisfaction so I used a tiger stripe brush from critelli on dA!

[gatitties]

OMGOMGOMGOMG I HAVE BEEN WAITING SO LONG FOR YOUR INBOX TO BE OPEN I LIVE YOUR WRITING!!! I wanted to see if i could request a witch reader x the straw hats??? Like imagine if Eda and Rain from The Owl House had a kid that acted like Luz. Like how she always wants to stand up for others and is kind, but also pretty innocent and naive at times. Like if Sanji flirted with her she wouldn't really understand that he's flirting.I could imagine her also having a little friend like owlberrt or at least an owl staff. Also like her mother her hair is kinda like a mini pocket dimension that she shoves things in

but instead in this universe the day unity is a day where a bunch of witch hunters come to their island and kills all of them but she somehow manages to survive. Like it would happen a few years or so before she encounters the straw hats. When she meets them it does take her a while still to tell them her full past thought. She meets them on some random island running from some local store owner because like her mother, she is a trouble maker but she's not as good at stealing. With the fact that her parents died and couldn't teach her much, all she has is old books and journals from both of them. Which mean that she's not that good at magic and messes up her spells a lot

i'm sorry if this is confusing i've just had this idea in my head for MONTHS and in crappy at explaining things D:

Again im sorry if this is to much or confusing i just really want to see your ideas of some HCs for this.

a meme for your collection (if you have one lol)

─Strawhats x witch!reader

─Summary: Some unfortunate events make you meet what you can consider a second family.

─Warnings: none

YEEEE thanks for contributing to the collection of cursed memes on my pinterest, I love it <3, sorry for the delay, I also had to look up information about the owl house because I didn't watch the series and f I changed a little how they met, sorry for that too 😔

─ Not even you know how you managed to survive the witch hunt that day, but here you are now, sailing on a wooden plank with a backpack that doesn't even have food or water but a couple of books on spells.

─ At first it was a small boat but you tried to cast a spell so that the wind was in your favor and you turned the small boat into a piece of plank, you were not a very experienced witch but you survived.

─ Your eyes lit up and you screamed with all the strength you could when you saw a ship.

─ Your first thought was to try to steal one of the emergency ships, but you ruled it out when you saw the crew, you weren't that clever and it seemed like they had nothing to do with the witch hunt.

─ The first to see you was Usopp who was fishing when you scared him to death, the others noticed you once they saw you wave your arms strangely (you were trying to do magic but nothing came out)

─ You complement Luffy quite well once you start interacting with the crew, Nami probably scolds you a lot because he asks you to do some magic and it ends up going wrong.

─ Last time you transformed Sanji's face into a trout for trying to make Luffy's portion bigger, you're lucky that the cook likes your presence, although you completely ignore his strange behavior when he is with girls.

─ You and Zoro have small competitions to keep your pride high over any nonsense, like a healthy rivalry (you both end up lost in the strangest places).

─ Probably and, despite not understanding anything about magic, Robin will help you with some spells here and there, she is a cultured woman and she seems to understand some descriptions much more than you.

─ Usopp repaired your cane when you chipped it once, you thanked him because he reinforced it so it wouldn't break again.

─ You and Chopper go out to look for ingredients together, whether to make medicines or potions.

─ Jinbe is curious about your culture and your home island as well as other sorcerers, you can spend hours talking about witchcraft with him, Franky and Brook will join in sometimes.

─ When you take the courage to tell them why you were alone with nothing and adrift, they feel a little sorry for you, If you don't plan to stay here with them, you will be welcome whenever you want and If you want to continue with them, you are already part of the crew!

─ For once you feel that you are advancing in your process of learning as a magician, feeling indebted to these pirates, you decide to help as much as you can and improve your skills even more.

[reysdriver]

New Horizons | Keys

Keys falls in love... with the new Animal Crossing game — keys x gn!reader fluff

warnings: none :)

words: 0.7k

a/n: am I really writing more keys fanfic after my last one flopped even harder than i ever imagined?? yes.

Keys had been waiting so long for the new game to come out. You had already heard him express his excitement a thousand times and it just made you happy to see him so happy. 

"The original and Wild World were my childhood, you know? I used to get on those games as soon as I got home from school and I wouldn't put them down until my parents made me go to sleep!" He would tell you several times in the lead-up to the new release. "I didn't play New Leaf as much though. But one of my college dorm mates did have it so I played it sometimes to de-stress." 

He had ordered it in advance, so all he needed to do on the release date was go to the local games store and pick it up. When he came home a few minutes later than usual from work last night, you remembered why when you saw the plastic bag in his hands. 

"I got it, babe!" He said with an ear-to-ear smile. 

His face was so happy that you just felt his excitement pass on to you. You suggested ordering a 'New Horizons release day dinner' as if that was a thing anyone was doing, and you called in a delivery order from your favourite Thai restaurant just a few blocks down. 

He started loading the game onto the switch connected to your tv after you placed the order and you made him promise to take a break when dinner gets here. You knew better than anyone that Keys will get into something, then put every single drop of his focus into it, blocking out everything else—besides you, of course; he could never ignore you. 

Once the game was loaded and ready to play, Keys started designing his character in the game. He tried getting all the colours right to make sure it looked perfect to start with, even though you reminded him he could probably change it later. 

“See? And you can make a little version of you after and our avatars can be just a little version of us!”

After he finished making his character, you decided to take a break and go have a shower since you figured it would be worldbuilding and exposition for a little bit, and you knew your boyfriend would just explain all of that to you later anyways. 

After you came out in a pair of striped pyjamas that you put on to avoid getting dressed in real clothes again, you saw that Keys had brought in the takeout, eaten his portion, and was already running around the island doing random tasks to pay off Tom Nook’s surprise loan. 

Throughout the evening, Keys gave you turns using his character to fish and catch bugs and help him start off the game. It was fun and you loved having him teach you all about everything related to Animal Crossing, but you got tired after a while. 

You kissed his neck and mumbled a goodnight to him. “I’m gonna head to bed, and I’m hoping you join me so don’t stay up too late, okay?”

“Okay, babe. I’ll shut it off soon.”

He did not shut the game off anytime soon. You knew this because you woke up to something he was angrily muttering to himself in the middle of the night. All you could hear of it was something about a ‘goddamn sea bass’. You trudged out of the bedroom, rubbing your eyes sleepily. 

“I thought you said you’d be done soon.” You said, sitting down next to him on the couch. 

“I can leave now. What time is it?” He stood still in the game until the clock showed up in the corner of the screen. “Oh my god, baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise how late it was. I just got distracted trying to start the perfect island life for us.” He pressed a button on the controller in his left hand to save the game and he turned off the screen.

You smiled at him, then took his hand so you could both go to bed together. “You can see a perfect apartment life with me if you don't stay up all night playing video games.”