#like a 'how to be a couch potato' sketch

[earlysunshines]

fall is for falling (for you)

newjeans (unnie line) x fem!reader ; fluff!!!!!

synopsis: separate autumn themed oneshots with newjeans unnie line bc i saw a pile of leaves the other day ; 2k special!!

warnings: puuuurre fluff ; making out kinda ; nothing else that i can think of ; anything i didn't mention ; sorry to the readers that don’t have fall / experience a diff season atm it’s basically autumn for me :-P or maybe i’m getting ahead of myself it’s still like 20+ degrees

a/n: THANKYOU FOR 2K WHATTTTTT THE HELL!!! idk how to structure this and it's different from the usual looong fics LOL idk smth different for this crazy milestone THANK YOU!!! i can't believe this is real... i can’t express my gratitude enough… two gazilliontrillionbillion subscribers... in just over a year... i can't believe this... THANK YOU! enjoy :-D

ALSO new user whatsUP! :-p

kim minji - pumpkin carving

minji hears the door creak open but doesn't bother to look up; she already knows it's you. she braces herself, expecting you to burst in dramatically like always: groaning loudly, tossing your bag onto the rug, and collapsing onto the couch next to her with a tired sigh. but instead of the usual commotion, she notices the absence of a familiar thump on the couch, no tired exhale signaling your arrival. 

she peeks up, only to find you grinning with a large pumpkin cradled in your arms, your eyes bright with excitement. 

“what’s this?” minji asks, eyebrows furrowing as she pulls off her headphones, glancing away from her laptop.

“it’s a sweet potato, what do you think?” you tease, your tone playful as you reach over and close her laptop without hesitation, sliding it to the side. “c’mon, it’s friday. pleeease help me carve it?”

she pauses, eyes narrowing slightly as she meets your gaze. you tug gently on her wrist, the warmth of your hand lingering on her skin, and she can feel the heat rising to her cheeks. her resolve wavers, and she sighs, tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek. 

“fine.”

minji doesn't regret agreeing, not when your face lights up like that. the way you smile makes her chest feel warm, a flutter she wishes she could escape.

you both set up at the kitchen counter, and she watches as you rummage around, grabbing all three knives you both own. 

(there used to be just one—a medium-sized knife—but you insisted on buying more. what if there were small things to cut? or bigger things? the two of you have argued over countless trivial things you own, but somehow, she always ends up letting you have your way. maybe it’s because she secretly adores you, not as subtly as she thinks.)

you put on a playlist that jumps all over the place; first, it’s sza, and you hum along, lost in the melody. then a city pop track comes on, the abrupt change making minji raise her brows. your taste in music is unpredictable, like a rollercoaster, every song a surprise. but minji never complains. she loves how you sway to the music, singing softly as you sketch a face on the pumpkin with intense concentration. 

and for a moment, she forgets about the essay she has to write, the deadline, the weekend. all she sees is you, the soft light catching the curve of your smile, and it's enough.

–

an hour passes, but it feels like only seconds.

you and minji have been carving away, scooping out the pumpkin’s insides as she grins at the way you squirm with every handful. when she slips out a soft “cute,” your face heats up instantly, but neither of you says anything more. you assume she’s talking about the face you’ve drawn on the pumpkin, but all of you hopes it’s you she’s referring to.

you sneak glances at her from time to time, drawn to the way her hair falls loose from its tie, her glasses slipping down her nose, and her tongue peeking out in concentration. you reach over to push her glasses back up, and her hand slips—almost cutting herself. you laugh, but your heart is racing inside your chest.

the kitchen table is a mess. pumpkin guts and seeds are scattered everywhere, a few strands of orange pulp hanging off the edge. you’re both standing side by side, spoons in hand, breathless from laughter.

“this is the worst pumpkin carving attempt i’ve ever seen,” minji declares, wiping her forehead with the back of her wrist, unknowingly smearing pumpkin across her skin.

“you mean the best,” you counter with a grin, scooping out another stringy handful. “it’s a masterpiece in the making.”

she rolls her eyes, but you catch the smile she tries to hide. “if by ‘masterpiece,’ you mean ‘disaster,’ then yeah, sure.”

you nudge her shoulder, still laughing. “hey, it’s not that bad! we just need to… appreciate its unique aspects.”

minji laughs like a dork, you love it—bright and loud—making your chest warm. “fine, but if this pumpkin ends up looking like a troll, i’m blaming you.”

“i’ll take full responsibility,” you joke. “besides, it’s already got your eyebrows.”

she gasps in mock offense. “excuse me? my eyebrows are perfect, thank you very much.”

you snicker and turn back to the pumpkin, but your eyes keep drifting to her. she’s leaning in close, focus intent, tongue poking out slightly as she carves a crooked smile.

it’s hard to concentrate with her so close. something about this feels different—more intimate, more charged.

(and it doesn’t help that you’ve found her attractive ever since you barged into the apartment while she was moving boxes, almost knocking over her stuff.

it also doesn’t help that your crush on her has only grown. english nerds were always a little dorky and cute to you.

or maybe it’s just minji. minji, who you used to bicker with about her loud music or her sudden screams in the middle of the night over some game.

it definitely doesn’t help that you like minji a lot.)

she catches you looking at her, and for a moment, the room goes still. her eyes soften, and your cheeks heat up again. she quirks an eyebrow. “what are you staring at?”

you shrug with a grin. “nothing, sorry. you just look stupid, that’s all.”

she rolls her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks deepens, and your heart skips a beat.

minji finishes the smile on the pumpkin and steps back, hands on her hips, looking at it with a satisfied grin. “done! would you look at that…”

the pumpkin is… well, it has a crooked smile, one eye bigger than the other, and a nose that could pass for a potato. it’s perfect.

“it’s amazing,” you say, and you mean it. not because of the pumpkin, but because of how proud she looks, her eyes bright, cheeks flushed from laughing.

she turns to you, and for a moment, you’re just smiling at each other. then, almost without thinking, you reach up and brush a stray pumpkin seed from her hair.

she blinks, startled, her breath catching. “uh… thanks,” she mumbles, her cheeks darkening to a deeper pink.

“of course,” you say softly, your hand lingering in her hair a moment too long.

the air thickens, something unsaid hanging between you. you’re about to speak, but then minji’s hand is on your jawline, and her lips are on yours.

it’s short, barely a few seconds, but in the last half-second, you start to process it and try to kiss back. but before you can properly reciprocate, minji pulls away, her hand flying back like you’re something hot to the touch.

“i’m so sorry,” she stammers, looking mortified. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. it’s just you looked really good, and i couldn’t help myself, and i’m so sorry, i should’ve—”

you lean in again, cutting her off, capturing the rest of her mumbled apology with your lips. she relaxes into the kiss, her head angling slightly to make it more comfortable, her hand resting on your waist. she pushes you gently against the counter, her body close to yours.

when the need for air becomes too strong, you both pull away, breathless. you look at her—her eyes still half-lidded, cheeks flushed deep red, and you can’t help but giggle, hiding your face in your shoulder to mask how flustered you are.

you just kissed your roommate, and she kissed you back, pulled you closer by the waist, tasted like orange flavored lip balm, smelled like lavender and something floral.

“holy shit,” you mumble, half-laughing. “we just kissed.”

“y-yeah.” minji’s voice is small, almost disbelieving. “did you like it?”

“minji, you’re so cute.” you pull back to look at her, smiling as you smooth her hair. her glasses slide down again, so you take them off and set them on the counter beside you. you twirl a strand of her hair around your finger, teasing her, and she looks like she might melt on the spot.

her hand slides to the back of your neck, making you shiver, and she leans back just enough to murmur, “i’m assuming you did.”

“good observation,” you say, rolling your eyes.

she laughs, her fingers pressing slightly into your skin, and your knees feel a little weak. “so, do we keep carving pumpkins or…?”

you grin, pulling her closer. “we could… make out a little more on the couch instead? if our lips go numb, then… movie?”

minji’s smile is bright, her eyes soft. “i like that idea.”

hanni pham - a hoodie for the seasons changing

hanni walks along the inside of the sidewalk because you decided when you were eleven that it was better for her to be farther from the street, less at risk. even now, a few weeks into your last year of high school, you still keep her on the safe side. it's just one of those things you do without thinking. it’s an unspoken rule between the two of you, so hanni hadn’t thought twice about the way you pulled her by the arm to push her on her designated side.

(she did think twice about how firm your grip was, and how you had your hand on her. your bigger, stronger, nicer hands.)

with the weekend ahead, you both agree there’s no better plan than crashing at your place after school on a friday. your hands brush against each other as you walk, but neither of you say anything. you never do; never have, not about the little things, like the shared smiles, the secret glances, the quiet laughter. instead, you let yourselves enjoy the moments, bask in the warmth that fills your chest each time.

you make it to your house, then up the stairs until you two are in your room. you immediately find hanni's sweatpants in your closet — the ones she left behind last time because she’s at your house more than half the week. you'd washed them with your clothes on laundry day, because it would’ve been rude not to. you toss them to her along with one of your t-shirts. “go change,” you say, nudging her toward the bathroom with a grin.

"hey!" hanni groans, swatting your hand away as you poke her side, making her jump. “you’re so—”

“just hurry up and change so we can relax on my bed. you know how i feel about outside clothes…”

she rolls her eyes but can't help the smile that tugs at her lips, watching the little crease form between your brows from the annoyance. it’s cute, she thinks, even if she’d never admit it. she closes the bathroom door, locks it, and starts changing. her sweatpants fit the same — they’re hers, after all — but your t-shirt hangs loose and oversized on her. it’s soft against her skin, and smells like your detergent and jasmine and peaches, like you. her heart races a little. 

she catches her reflection in the mirror and notices how the shirt falls around a fingers length past her waistline. it’s not like she’s drowning in the shirt, but it’s definitely a size or two larger; you’re taller and more muscular, which happens to be her type — a fact she’s noticed a little too much for her liking. she feels a flutter in her chest, a mix of nerves and something she doesn’t want to name, then quickly shakes it off, rolling her shoulders like she can physically push the feeling away.

she takes a breath, tugs at the hem of the shirt once more, and steps out of the bathroom, trying not to think about how much she likes wearing something that belongs to you.

when she steps out a few minutes later, she finds you on your bed with your legs spread out and hands up to hold your phone. you’re in plaid pajama joggers and your dad’s old university hoodie, you look comfy and snug, you look adorable.

she jumps on your bed, landing beside you with a bounce. the mattress shifts, and your phone slips from your grip, smacking you square in the cheek. hanni laughs at the sight.

“hey!” you groan, shooting her a playful glare.

“loser.” she mutters, reaching over to mess up your hair. “scoot over, you’re hogging the whole bed.”

“whatever.” you roll over, patting the space beside you. hanni shuffles closer, pulling the blanket over both of you. your arm naturally slips under her neck, and she nestles in, the top of her head resting against your chest.

“comfy?” she can hear the smirk in your voice.

“yeah.” she replies softly, though her heart races. 

neither of you ever comments on the way you always end up like this, close and tangled up in each other. the term is ‘cuddling,’ but if either of you were to call it that, you’d probably cringe, cheeks flushing with an embarrassed heat neither of you could ignore.

hanni grabs her phone, opening instagram. she scrolls, her breathing evening out as she likes every animal video and taps through every story. you watch her through half-closed eyes, feeling a calm settle over you. your other arm drapes over her waist, your breathing slowing, growing heavier. 

she doesn’t notice at first, too engrossed in her phone. but when she switches to the camera, she catches a glimpse of your nose nuzzled in her hair, your eyes fully closed. she zooms in to confirm the soft snores she hears, then grins, quietly snapping a picture. she shifts, turning the camera on herself to capture both of you together.

for a while, she stays like that, tucked in your arms, watching an episode of a crime show she’s gotten hooked on. her head tilts at an odd angle, but she doesn’t mind. you’re asleep and warm beside her, and that’s all that matters.

three episodes later, she checks the time and realizes over an hour and a half has passed. somewhere in that time, you’ve pulled her closer in your sleep, murmuring something she can’t quite make out. her heart stutters each time your hand shifts against her waist, your fingers brushing against the fabric, the only layer away from her skin.

her stomach growls softly, breaking the quiet, and she decides it’s time to wake you up. turning over, your faces are inches apart, and she stops, taking a moment to just look at you. then, she leans back slightly and snaps another picture before reaching to poke your cheek. when you don’t stir, she pinches instead, shaking your shoulder lightly.

you groan, turning away from her. “five minutes… please.”

“c’mon, sleeping beauty, i’m hungry…” she sighs, her tone teasing.

“five minutes.” you mumble, voice thick with sleep. “just five more…”

hanni sighs dramatically, then tries a new tactic. “i’ll pay if you get up right now. anything you want from the convenience store.”

you crack one eye open, barely, squinting at her. you roll over, sprawling into a starfish position. “fine… but five minutes, okay?” you plead, clinging to her leg.

hanni laughs softly at the warmth radiating from you, her resolve weakening. she runs her fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp gently until five minutes turns into ten, then fifteen. finally, she nudges you awake, and the two of you head out, still in your cozy clothes.

as you walk to the convenience store, staying close, hanni steps on a leaf that crunches underfoot. “wow, it’s already fall,” she murmurs.

“well, obviously.” you tease, only to get a kick to the back of your knee. you nearly stumble, catching yourself with a laugh. “what the hell?”

“you suck.” she grumbles, bumping her shoulder against yours.

“you suck more,” you retort, nudging her back.

“whatever.”

you smile at her, and she catches it from the corner of her eye. she nudges you away again, but you keep staring, unable to help yourself. “you’ve gotten really pretty, you know?”

“are you saying i used to be ugly?” she laughs lightheartedly, expecting a playful response, but instead, you surprise her.

“you’ve never been ugly.” your voice is softer, more sincere. “you’ve always been pretty.” then your voice gets quieter, “gorgeous.”

there’s a pause, both of you walking in silence for a moment. you kick a small rock forward, and it lands by hanni’s feet. she kicks it ahead, breaking the quiet. “thanks.” she says, feeling your eyes on her but not daring to meet your gaze. “you’ve always been cute too, ever since we met in fifth grade.”

“oh.” you whisper, looking up just in time to see the store ahead — a small savior from the tension that’s thickened the air between you. you clear your throat, trying to shift the mood. “i can’t wait for my free dinner.”

hanni pushes you playfully, and you pout, making her wish she could capture the expression and keep it forever.

you two head inside, and hanni visibly relaxes as the warm air greets you. she hadn’t mentioned how chilly it was outside, even though she could’ve easily put on her jacket. part of her had hoped, maybe, you’d notice and offer her your hoodie instead.

both of you wander around the store for about ten minutes, emerging with a pork bun and a sweet tea in your hands, while hanni clutches a sweet pastry and a can of soda. instead of turning back towards your house, you keep moving forward, hanni trailing just behind you. 

the route is familiar. it’s the path down to the little stream where you and hanni have shared countless secrets, talking until the sun dips below the horizon. tonight feels like one of those nights, perfect for sitting on the favorite bench you two have claimed as your own, watching the sunset as it starts a little earlier than usual.

you kick a small rock into the stream, watching the ripples spread out, and catch hanni shivering slightly in the corner of your eye as she takes a small bite of the sweet potato-filled bun. 

“can you hold my stuff?” you ask, extending your hands. hanni hums in confusion but takes your things without hesitation.

she watches as you stand up, pulling off your hoodie. her eyes linger on the way your long-sleeve shirt lifts slightly, revealing a hint of your torso, the lean muscle just barely visible in the fading light. she catches herself staring and quickly looks away, cheeks warming. you fix your hair casually before draping the hoodie over her lap.

she furrows her brows, looking up at you. “what?”

you glance down at the hoodie, then back at her. “put it on.”

“why?”

“because you’re cold.” you shrug, sitting back down beside her and taking the food and drinks out of her hands to set them down. you grab the hoodie again and pull it over her shoulders, tugging it down until her head pops through and the hood falls over her eyes. “better?”

she mumbles, “you didn’t have to.”

“it’s getting colder. i’m fine like this.” you reply, pinching the fabric of your shirt before reaching out to adjust the hood over her forehead, smoothing down her hair. a small smirk tugs at your lips as you add quietly, “besides, i know you wanted my hoodie anyway.”

she nearly chokes on air, her cheeks burning. “i– i didn’t! you’re so–”

“you look better in it anyway,” you chuckle, turning back to face the stream. you sneak a bite of her pastry, the playful smile on your lips growing.

hanni huffs but doesn't protest, her fingers curling into the sleeves of your hoodie, a smile sneaking onto her face despite herself.

she looks at you fondly, biting the inside of her cheek, before crossing her arms and turning her gaze to match yours. your hoodie is thick with your scent, and hanni feels like she could drown in it. without realizing it, she scoots closer, and you instinctively wrap an arm around her.

hanni can’t hold back anymore.

“y/n.”

“yes?”

“the fall dance is really early this year.”

“yeah, it’s next week. i feel like i’ll breathe and it’ll already time to get ready for it.”

“do you have a date?”

you scoff, shaking your head with a small laugh. “you know i’ve never managed to get a date for that. we always end up going with yunjin’s group anyway. are you teasing me for not having one?”

hanni chuckles, leaning even closer against your side. “maybe a little.”

“do you have a date?” you ask, glancing down at her.

“no.”

“you know, i overheard jay’s friends talking. sounds like he might ask you out.”

hanni cringes at the thought of jay, the guy from her statistics class who never stops staring at her. his crush on her is painfully obvious, and he always finds an excuse to talk to her or get her attention.

but the truth is, hanni's always wished you’d be the one to ask her to the fall dance, but you’re oblivious, always a little clueless.

“y/n,” she tries again, voice soft.

“yes?” 

“we should go to the fall dance together.”

“yeah, i was thinking that too. should we go with yunjin’s friend group again? jimin also asked if we wanted to–”

“no,” hanni interrupts, pulling away from your arm, and looks at you seriously. you tilt your head, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. she meets your gaze, but quickly looks away, suddenly feeling too exposed. “i was wondering if… well— ugh.” she pinches the bridge of her nose, then takes a deep breath and blurts out, “we should go together, alone, just us. we don't have to actually go to the dance, I know we just went out in the city last time and crashed at yunjins place and we can just do whatever you want to! i don't really care i just want to be with you becauseilikeyoualotand--"

hanni pauses before finally getting to her point. "i want you to be my date, y/n."

your lips curl into a sly smile, and then you laugh.

hanni's face is a mix of confusion and anxiety, her mind racing with uncertainty at your reaction. 

“took you long enough,” you say, grinning wider now. “i was going to ask you out, but i wanted to see if you had the guts to do it first.”

“asshole!” hanni groans, shoving you away. she turns her face to hide the deep flush coloring her cheeks. “i take it back.”

“no, you don’t.” your arm tightens around her, pulling her closer again, and you use your free hand to gently tilt her face towards you, fingers brushing her chin. “i’m not going to let you.”

her breath catches when your eyes flicker down to her lips, then back up to her eyes.

“w-was that a yes?” hanni asks, voice small, almost uncertain.

your fingers drop from her chin, and you lean back slightly against the bench. both of you are moving closer, almost unconsciously, drawn together by the tension. she feels her eyelids flutter, and you tilt your head, leaning in just a bit more.

“if i kiss you, would you take that as a yes?” you whisper, eyes focused on her lips.

hanni’s voice is barely audible as she murmurs, “mhm,” giving you the green light. you lean in and press a soft, quick kiss to her lips. she melts into it, feeling every nerve ending come alive in those few seconds. you pull back just enough to take in her flushed cheeks, the warmth of the autumn sun casting a soft glow over her face.

“i’d love to be your date, hanni,” you say softly, smiling as her face breaks into a relieved grin.

danielle marsh - apple picking

danielle stands beside you, her eyes bright with excitement as she takes in the familiar sight. she's wearing a pair of denim overalls over an old, oversized sweater that you know belongs to her dad, her wavy brown hair clipped up to keep loose strands from framing her face.

the apple orchard stretches out before you, rows of trees dotted with red and green apples glistening under the golden afternoon sun. you and danielle have been coming here every fall since you were kids, but this is the first time you've managed to make it back since starting college. the sunlight feels warm against your skin, but it definitely makes her shine brighter, even in the cool crispness of fall.

she grabs your hand, slipping her fingers into yours without a second thought, and pulls you down the path toward the orchard's entrance. you grin at how eager she is; being here together again fills you with a deep, comforting warmth. being around danielle always does that to you, really. 

a friendly man greets you at the entrance, handing you a basket and asking if you have any questions. you both shake your heads, and he gives you a cheerful smile, wishing you good luck.

it’s peak apple-picking season, so naturally the orchard is filled with families, couples, and groups of friends, all scouring the trees for the best apples. there’s a little worry in the back of your mind that the good ones might already be gone.

“so many people,” danielle breathes, a little awestruck. “i wonder if we’re too late.”

“we’ll be fine,” you assure her, squeezing her hand lightly. “when have we ever gotten a bad apple? even the green ones end up sweet.”

“maybe that's because you always pick them~” she teases, giving you that playful smile that always makes your stomach twist and turn. you hate it a little, but you love it more—especially the way it makes your cheeks heat up.

“you're so— ugh.” you look away, trying to hide the way she flusters you, but you tug her hand, pulling her along.

you wander a bit farther down the path, away from the crowd. danielle’s eyes light up when she spots a tree heavy with apples. she lets go of your hand, darting forward, studying the branches.

“this one’s perfect,” she says, reaching up on tiptoe, fingers just brushing a particularly shiny apple.

you watch her struggle for a moment, biting back a laugh. “need some help?”

she glances back, trying to look serious but failing. instead, she gives you her signature pout, the one that makes you melt everytime you see it. “i guess i could use a little help,” she admits.

you move closer, setting the basket down. “hop on,” you offer, patting your back.

she giggles before jumping onto your back, her laughter bright in your ear as you steady her by holding her legs. she reaches up, plucking the apple from the branch with a satisfied hum. "got it!"

“nice catch,” you say, lowering her back to the ground.

she turns to you, cheeks flushed from the thrill of the simple task, still holding the apple. “i’ve got my own personal apple-picking assistant,” she teases, nudging you.

“not free of charge,” you joke, smiling at her. 

her happiness is contagious, and you're more than willing to let it take over the afternoon. 

(and really, your whole life—but maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself.)

“but always happy to help, miss marsh.”

you and danielle spend the next couple of hours wandering through the orchard, picking apples, laughing, and reminiscing about the times you’d done this as kids. you remember danielle’s dad lifting you up on his shoulders when you were too small to reach, and the time she accidentally knocked one of your teeth out with a misplaced apple throw. her laughter fills the space between you, and more than once, she climbs onto your back again, her hands on your shoulders, her face so close you can feel her breath on your neck. it’s nerve-racking, but much more heart warming.

as the sun starts to dip, the air cools, and you catch danielle stifling a yawn. “getting sleepy?” you ask, watching her rub her eyes the same way she used to when you were younger.

"maybe a little," she admits, yawning again, trying to blink away the sleepiness settling in her eyes. "but i don't want to leave yet. this is too much fun."

 really, she doesn’t want the day to end at all. spending time with you like this feels like the good old days, back when things were simple and easy, and danielle would do just about anything to stretch it out a little longer. she's always been whipped for anything involving you, for every shared laugh, for every time your shoulder accidentally brushes hers. she knows she would spend every minute she has left doing nothing but this, being with you, if she could. it's been harder lately—with college and schedules pulling you both in different directions, with classes, work, and life taking up so much of the time she used to have with you. the thought makes her chest ache a little, makes her cling to this moment even more tightly, like she could hold on to it forever. 

“it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” she adds softly, her voice barely above a whisper, almost like she’s talking to herself more than you. “since we just got to be like this.”

“yeah,” you agree, a touch of something bittersweet in your smile. “way too long.”

her fingers brush yours, almost like she’s afraid you’ll slip away if she doesn't hold on, her hand still warm from holding yours all afternoon. “i wish we could do this every day,” she sighs, her tone playful and smile warm, but it makes her heart ache a bit.

you feel your heart squeeze at that, at the honesty in her voice, and you reach out, squeezing her hand in return. “me too,”

for a moment, you both stand there, just holding hands, feeling the weight of all the missed moments and the sweetness of the one you’re in now. the orchard is quieter now, the sun sinking lower, casting everything in a soft, golden light. you think it makes her look even more beautiful, like she belongs in a place like this, caught between the sunset and the apples and the way her smile seems to light up her whole face.

“anyway,” you clear your throat, breaking yourself from your trance. “we’ve been here for hours, dani,” you chuckle. “it’s okay if you’re tired.”

“okay, maybe i am tired,” she says, shoulders slumping. “fine, let's head back.”

“it’s an hour drive anyway, maybe longer with traffic,” you point out, pinching her cheek just because. “you can sleep in the car.”

after paying for your apples and accepting a free mini apple pie from the cashier, you head back to the car. you hold her hand with one hand and carry the bag of apples with the other, feeling content as you walk through the fading light.

at the car, danielle settles into the passenger seat, her eyes fluttering shut as soon as you start driving. you glance over at her, peaceful and serene in sleep, her lips slightly parted. she looks so pretty under the soft glow of the streetlights that you can’t resist taking a quick picture when you reach the nearest stop sign.

you drive quietly, letting the soft sounds of her breathing fill the car. when you arrive at her house, you unbuckle her seatbelt carefully, brushing your fingers over her skin in the process. she murmurs something in her sleep, but doesn’t wake. you gently lift her out of the car, cradling her against your chest. she instinctively wraps her arms around your neck, holding on like she doesn’t want to let go.

getting inside is a bit of a challenge; you end up going through the gate to the backyard. once you’re inside, you lay her down gently on the couch, intending to pull away, but she tightens her grip around you. “no, y/n… stay,” she mumbles.

your arm moves around her, instinctively pulling her closer, and you can feel the gentle rise and fall of her breathing against you, her body fitting perfectly into the curve of yours. she smells like apples and cinnamon and the orchard and what it feels like to be a child and filled with adoration. it fills your senses, making you feel like you’re wrapped up in everything that feels good and familiar.

your fingers continue to gently massage her scalp, and before long, your eyes grow heavy, and you drift off with her beside you, feeling completely at peace.

—

you aren’t sure how long you’d been asleep when the creak of the front door makes you stir. your eyes flutter open to a blurry room, the dim light barely catching on the edges of furniture. you blink, trying to sit up, but danielle’s weight is still against you, her face tucked into the curve of your neck, her breaths soft and steady. 

a quiet voice breaks the sleepy haze. “well, look at that.”

you blink harder, clearing your vision to see danielle’s parents standing in the doorway, looking amused. their expressions are soft, eyes twinkling with the kind of knowing that makes your cheeks flush. you shift slightly, attempting to move, but danielle’s hold tightens, her face burrowing deeper into your neck, refusing to let go even in her sleep.

��hi,” you manage, voice thick with sleep, feeling the warmth creep up your face. “we were just… she fell asleep in the car, and i didn’t want to wake her.”

danielle’s mom smiles gently, eyes creasing at the corners. “you two look comfortable. did you have fun at the orchard?”

“yeah…” you murmur, still a little groggy, the day’s warmth lingering in your chest.

danielle’s dad chuckles, his gaze softening. “she’s hanging on like a little bear,” he says with a grin. “reminds me of when you two were kids, falling asleep in the backseat. she’d twist herself into the strangest positions, and you always seemed to make room for her.”

of course you did, you always made room for her, whether that was in the backseat of her parents’ car, your mind, or your heart.

you feel your cheeks get hotter, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. you glance down at danielle, her face still nestled into you, and it strikes you how natural it feels, like this was always how it was supposed to be.

as her parents quietly make their way upstairs, you lean back into the cushions, fingers absentmindedly brushing through danielle’s hair, the strands soft against your skin.

“y/n?” her voice is a soft mumble, barely more than a whisper. “are my parents home?”

“yeah,” you say softly, feeling her shift slightly.

“mhm... can we stay like this?” her voice is slurred, on the edge of falling back into sleep.

“whatever you want, dani.”

“okay,” she breathes, then after a pause, “hey, y/n?”

“yeah?”

“thanks for today,” she sighs, her words sleepy and warm against your neck. “i love you.”

the words make your heart swell, and maybe it’s the sleepiness or the quiet of the room, but you find the courage to press a soft kiss to her forehead, even if it means twisting awkwardly. you close your eyes, letting yourself relax into the moment, thinking that maybe, just maybe, this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

“i love you too danielle.”

[dannydoesthisthing27]

Guy has dimples, and when he's close enough and smiles, Honey pokes his cheeks

Honey has stretchmarks and Guy traces them when they lay together

Guy wears beanies more often than other hats. His favorite is a green and teal knit one that Honey made when they first moved in together, and Honey was learning how to knit

Honey wears baggy hoodies primarily. Their favorite is one Guy bought them that has the looney toons logo and characters on it

Guy had a cat when he, Honey, and Kayla(?) Moved in together. According to Guy the cat typically takes months to get comfortable with people. It layed on the arm rest of the couch next to Honey the first day they moved in (the cat never got within six feet of Kayla)

Honey (after they and Guy got their own place) adopted a pair of milk frogs. Now there's an enclosure in the dining room area (next to the window) (all the animals are spoiled)

Guy leaves sticky notes everywhere as reminders to himself or as treats for Honey (sweet messages/jokes)

Honey puts leaves pieces of paper with sketches on them around their place. Some days, there's a theme that's obvious. Other times, it's a guessing game. Honey will leave one and wait for a while before checking to see what Guy wrote at the bottom of the page as a first guess. After that, they'll leave a new sketch in a different spot with either a hint towards the answer if he was way off or confirmation that he's going in the right direction until he figures it out or gives up

Guy says he doesn't have a favorite genre of music, but his favorite style of music is stuff like Will Wood, Fish in a Birdcage, Lemon Demon, McCafferty, The Front Bottoms (he's also a sucker for anything older. 70s, 80s, and 90s) (Fleetwood Mac, B-52s, earth wind & fire, etc..)

Honey really means it when they say they dont have a favorite genre. They have a preference towards the same music as Guy but with a broader list of artists and songs. They also listen to a lot of rap, metal, rock, and punk music

Guy has an impressive shoe collection, but his favorites are his doc martins

Honeys' favorite pair of shoes are their converse all stars (in navy blue) (they also have 2 inch platform leather boots)

Guy knows how to roller skate and also has heelies he'll wear sometimes

Honey knows how to skateboard, but they use a longboard more than their actual skateboard

Guy doesn't like writing poetry. He prefers short form stories, mostly because the formating of poetry isn't a style he's comfortable with

Honey doesn't like regular canvas for painting. They prefer things with different textures and trying different mediums to see what looks best (they like colored pencil on rough paper and paint on wood)

Guy likes golden/colored jewlery

Honey likes silver/ cool tone chrome jewlery

Guy has a blåhaj and several other shark plushies that he keeps on the bed

Honey also has several shark and frog plushies, but they're stored on the beanbag in the living room

Guy likes making food in the oven (pork chops in a cast iron skillet is his favorite)

Honey likes using the stove (hand made mashed potatoes and greenbeans with bacon and caramelized onions cooked into them)

Guys favorite cuddling position is laying down facing each other with his arms around Honeys waist and their arms around his shoulders

Honeys favorite that they'll admit to is Guy resting on their chest with their arms around him and their face in his hair (their real favorite is them as the little spoon with him pressing his face into their back, and his arms squeezing them)

Guy has acne scars and a skincare routine he does at night (I dont know enough about skincare to make specific headcanons :/)

Honey has scars from picking at pimples (not acne though if that makes sense) but they don't care enough to do much more than wash their face occasionally with whatever basic face wash Guy has around

Guy makes Honey sit with him at least once a month and do the full routine. He makes them sit down and sits on their lap so he can apply all the product himself. He gives them a flower print headband to push their hair back and claims their lap is the only place he could sit because it gives him the best angle, and thats definitely the only reason

Honey begrudgingly accepts the treatment but allows themselves the contentment of being with him while he pampers them (they love how rough his hands are while still being gentle with them)

[live-laugh-legolas]

Hello!! Could you do headcanons of the fellowship + Faramir and what art they like/do as a hobby? Like painting, music, knit, and so on. Thank you!!

I was working on this but it got pushed to the back as I try to prioritize asks so this is perfect!

Hobbies of the fellowship (+Faramir)

Aragorn:

-Whittling

-He has a lot of downtime during his time as a ranger

-And he is surrounded by sticks and stuff and was probably already fiddling with a knife

-He often doesn’t take the little animals he makes with him so he either gives them to kids in a village he is near, or just leaves them around for someone to find

-I can also imagine him keeping a guitar with him so he can play around a fire at night during his travels

-A very humble player but also not shy about playing or singing if asked

Legolas:

-Anything physical really

-Climbing, swimming, gymnastics, etc

-He just needs to be moving

-He also has a habit of taking in orphaned or injured animals to nurse them back to health

-Would just have a squirrel in his pocket like Bob Ross

-His father has had to tell him multiple times that bunnies are not allowed on the dinner table

Gimli:

-He plays the flute

-Don’t ask how I know because no one will ever see him playing

-But he does

-He also enjoys jewelry making

-He’s a dwarf who appreciates a pretty piece of metal work or a perfectly shiny jewel

-I have an uncle who will sharpen knives at family gatherings because he doesn’t really want to talk to anyone (and I can’t blame him) but he also loves glitter and stuff, and that’s loosely how I picture Gimli

Boromir:

-I love that you mentioned knitting because that is exactly what I picture this man doing

-He’s not particularly good, but also not bad

-Mostly just makes scarves to relax

-Faramir has so many scarves and hats

-He definitely donates the extras that aren’t given to his brother

-Side note, he cannot crochet despite trying to

Frodo:

-Learning languages

-We know he has learned elvish to an extent and I think that this is a passion of his

-Loves to teach his friends “swears” that are actually compliments

-He also likes making origami

-Nothing too extravagant, just little cranes and stars maybe

-But he makes so many he doesn’t know what to do with them

-He will hide little cranes all around the shire for other hobbits to find

Sam:

-I mean this one is obvious…

-He loves gardening!

-He feels so accomplished when he gets to watch his plants grow, and eat fresh food from the ground

-Potatoes

-I also think he would secretly enjoy writing poetry

-I’m pretty sure Bilbo taught him how to read and write and he makes sure to put it to use so he doesn’t forget how

-He may not be Shakespeare but it is always sweet and from the heart

Merry:

-Riding

-He loves to take his pony around the shire

-He also likes experimenting with cooking and drink making

-It’s not always good, in fact it often isn’t, but it’s the process to him that matters

-If he were in modern days he would love the movie Ratatouille

Pippin:

-He is a very musical hobbit

-When he’s not stuffing his face he’s playing instruments and singing at the Green Dragon

-I also think he would really love making pottery

-The feel of molding the clay on the wheel really quiets his mind which frankly he really needs from time to time

Gandalf:

-Ok hear me out

-Ik this isn’t technically really a hobby but he likes napping

-He wants to find the most peaceful spot and just close his eyes for a little

-He’s a man who is always on the move so being able to take time to relax is always important to him

-(One of my favorite things to do is take a nap on the couch with my cats and I’m insistent that this is a hobby lol)

*Bonus Faramir:

-I think he likes to draw

-He doesn’t really paint, but he likes to sketch with charcoal and pencils

-He carries around a little sketchbook so he can just sit somewhere and draw

-Boromir loves to see his brothers art because he is so proud of his little brother

[asdpawprint]

Why breed standards are important, speaking from firsthand experience.

You know how the Labrador Retriever is the ultimate family dog and service dog? How they're kind and approachable and gentle and sturdy and handler-oriented and versatile and would love to be everybody's best friend? A dog that's none of those things isn't a Lab, is it?

But how on earth do you tell when it's just an adorable baby puppy in a picture, and the breeder says it's a Lab, so it must grow up to be all those Lab Things, right?

Absolutely fucking not. That cute little potato becomes an unstable mess of a dog, and she's allergic to all food, and her fur is thin and patchy and sometimes nearly bald, and she's incontinent, and she's so explosively reactive that you're always afraid she might turn truly aggressive, and her triggers are so vague and undefined that she often explodes off the couch to scream-bark at nothing and make you question whether dogs can hallucinate.

Was she ever a Lab? Or just labeled as one? How far removed is she from the last time her ancestors were what a Labrador Retriever is meant to be?

Turns out these stereotypical traits come from somewhere, and that somewhere isn't about being purebred. The traits come from selective breeding, with a clearly defined goal in mind: the breed standard. Every breed has one. For Labs, it's The Labrador Retriever Illustrated Standard: 20 pages of detailed descriptions, sketches, and reasonings, easily accessible on the Labrador Retriever Club's website.

Well, easily accessible IF you know it exists in the first place. That's the problem.

These stereotypes come from the well bred Labrador Retrievers that have fit the standard for generations. But between profit-focused irresponsible breeders, public ignorance, and the strict lack of nuance taught in the concept of "adopt don't shop," few people even know that dog breeds have organized clubs and established standards, much less how important they are in creating a predictable dog! So the label of "Lab" becomes the one thing they look for in hopes of finding those desirable traits.

A Lab is not a Lab just because it's called one. Or at least it will not act like it, nor will it look quite right to those aware of subtle, but important, differences in structure. The kindly, outgoing, eager to please, gentle, intelligent, adaptable, confident, friendly dog is consistently found where it is selected for, and that is with the responsible breeders who prioritize the breed standard.

[hannahmanderr]

GRAY GHOST 41

~ 41. kisses to shut them up (aka the challenge to write the shortest smooch drabble) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey. Hey, Valerie. Valerie.”

“... yes, Danny?”

“What do sweet potatoes wear to bed?”

Valerie’s hand clenched around the ice pack in her hand. Deep breaths, Gray. You love him. You don’t want to strangle him. “I don’t know, Danny,” she said with a sigh.

“They wear yammies! Yammies! That’s hilarious!” He proceeded to demonstrate this by quite literally rolling around, laughing like a hyena. Only in midair, not on the floor.

The ice pack exploded.

Two. Hours.

Two whole hours of nonstop, terrible puns. All thanks to the concussion Skulker had so kindly given him.

She’d have his metal hide by the end of all this.

“Oh! Oh! Valerie! Guess what?”

“No, we’re done with this.” She pulled him back down onto the couch, albeit with a little more force than intended. Annoyed as she was, she didn’t want to hurt him.

“But I want you to guess what one plant said to the other?”

Where did she leave her stupid phase-proof rope again? She could’ve sworn she’d brought it into the living room with her. “I don’t know, Danny.”

“It said, ‘Girl, you got me growing!’ Ha!” Danny devolved into another fit of laughter.

She loved the sound of his laughter, she really did. And to see him so easily entertained was… somewhat endearing. But did it have to come at the risk of her sanity?

“Waitwaitwait!” He stopped suddenly, eyes impossibly wide. “I got another one! What did - mmph!”

One benefit to being a girl: knowing exactly how to shut her guy up.

What better way than a kiss?

Satisfied, she pulled back. “Now, are you gonna lay down and behave?”

Danny nodded mutely, a dreamy smile blooming on his face. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ~ Send me a ship and a number from this ask game and I'll write a drabble or draw a sketch!

[pinkpastels113]

intro post

okay so i realized that i've never done one of these and i kinda want to!! esp for the new people following me and my side account @caitlynspistol, which i plan on keeping even if my fandoms and otp brain rots change

name: wenz (pronounced as when-zzz, or if you're anne, whence is fine too LMAO). it's not my real name but that's what i'm comfortable with on here!

pronouns: she/her.

nicknames: i respond to girl, girlie, dude, or any cute pet names hehe

age: 22

personality type: enfj (protagonist mbti personality). i also relate to harley quinn, lexie grey, annabeth chase, red of hearts, and chloe beale (besides the barging into other people's shower part). more of a golden retriever than a black cat, esp at work and around people i like and can be myself with, but can be a standoffish opinionated moody lil binch if im pissed or annoyed lmao

lgbtq?: yes. i think im labeling myself as bi but leaning towards wlw

country: usa (even tho i be so tired of it sometimes 💀)

comfort fandom: pitch perfect and bechloe! it's the fandom that i originally joined tumblr and got an ao3 account for, and the pairing that i feel the most comfortable and natural writing for

type of content creator: i'm more of a writer than an artist but i'm trying to explore more of my artsy side. i've loved drawing since i was 5. it's just difficult sometimes to motivate myself and practice my art when everyone else is so much better HAHA

i prefer to write drabbles and one-shots more than multi-chapter fics bc my attention span and motivation just. won't let me. but if enough people encourage me and ask for them-!! i also like to write aus? and fluff? and meet-cutes i think :)

current obsession/brain rots: glassheart from descendants the rise of red but im scared that caitvi will take over this spot when the new arcane season releases lmao

others: wenclair from wednesday, chaggie from hazbin hotel, harlivy from dc but mostly the tv show, damie from the haunting of bly manor, percabeth from percy jackson

guilty pleasures: nikkenzie (dork diaries), miraculous ladybug (ADFSJHDSLK MY SISTER GOT ME INTO THIS DON'T COME FOR ME-), sunset shimmer x twilight sparkle

comfort/fav shows: grey's anatomy and friends

comfort/fav movies: tangled, mulan, mean girls, just chick flicks in general ig, the pp franchise

music: i'm a swiftie so pop :) not the ones that are too techno but like soft? but also catchy. i also like throwback 2010s music bc those SLAP

hobbies besides being a part of the fandom: i like to play card games, read/discover contemporary romance books, paint, text or hang out with my friends, do puzzles, be a couch potato, play wild rift (league of legends on mobile), watch asmr videos on tiktok, and just explore the city ig

special tags?: "wenz can talk" for my posts that i just yap in, "w writes" for my writing, "w sketches" for my art

anything else to share: i love getting asks! like from ask meme games or just getting to know you questions, nothing too personal tho! i also welcome any kind of interaction that gets me to talk about my fandoms/brain rots/ships. pls don't be shy lmao: you can interact through tags in a reblog or through an anon ask if you don't know how ima react. worse case scenario i just won't reply? but i'm not gonna judge or bash on you or anything unless you come for me first 😭

[cookeybg]

Unexpected Cohabitation a JonDami fic

Oh, the rollercoaster of emotions I have been on. I am simultaneously excited and fill with anxiety about posting my writing. Thankfully it has been more excitement than anything else (I couldn't even sleep the night I posted the 1st chapter.) Thank you so much to those that read it and even commented. It really made my day and encouraged me to post again. :)

Anyways, here's the next chapter!

Title: Unexpected Cohabitation

Main Characters: Jonathan Kent and Damian Wayne (some of the others show up too, the list is too long)

Eventual relationship: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne (my fave)

Stuff to know: No capes, reverse robins, high school AU, no smut, no Brucie Wayne, I know nothing about sports but it will show up, (aaand I think that's it, will add more if it comes up)

[In case you missed it Chapter 1 ]

Part 1 - Chapter 2

“I’m home!” Jon called out, taking off his shoes and placing them on the shoe rack next to the entrance. “Welcome home honey!” Lois popped her head out into the hallway from the kitchen, one hand covering the speaker of her cell phone, “Where’s Conner?” “He’s with Bart.” Jon saw his mom nod and resume the call she was on. He walked into the room he shared with Conner, dumping his school bag on the floor next to his desk. Both boys had loft beds with desks underneath to give each a sense of personal space in such a cramped room. Jon changed out of his school uniform into a pair of sweats and an old Cheese Vikings t-shirt. Two warning knocks stopped his from sitting and Lois opened the door. “Want to help me with dinner?” Lois asked. Jon nodded, smiling as he followed Lois into the kitchen. While prepping dinner Lois watched her son from the corner of her eye, laughing to herself at how cute her son was. He hummed and moved his hips to a beat only he knew. A slight blush graced his face and he had a smile he could not hide. “Was today a good day?”” Lois asked, amused. “Yeah.” Jon said without elaborating. “That’s good. You can tell us all about it while we eat.” Jon nodded and thought about how he had seen Jay twice after lunch. He even got to speak with him and sit in front of him in the drawing class they shared. When he had first seen the elective on his schedule he was determined to change it since he wasn’t very interested in sketching. Now, though, he was planning on staying with it. He saw Jay again when he turned in his application to the journalism club, he had even waved at him!

“I’m home!” Called Clark from the entrance, “You’ll never guess who I ran into in the lobby.” “I bet it was an escaped convict.” Said Lois while dividing up the oven baked chicken breasts into four plates. “Nope, it was me!” Conner said, emerging from the hallway already wearing a pair of jersey shorts and a tank. “Close enough.” Laughed Lois, “Help set the table please.” Conner nodded, grabbing some paper towels and utensils, placing them in their rightful places on the table. Clark ruffled Jon’s hair as he passed by turning on the living room television. Their television was old and had a couple of missing pixels on right top corner, but the sound still worked. It’s not like it was in the middle of the screen so Jon’s parents didn’t see the point of replacing it. Jon placed mashed potatoes on each plate next to the roasted carrots his mom had already plated. He could hear some lady drone on about the stock market. “Hon, turn off the TV.” Lois said, placing each plate on the table mats Conner had set. “Seems like Lex Corp. and Wayne Enterprises are going head to head in some bidding war.” Clark said, turning off the television he draped his tie on the back of the couch. He walked to the fridge to grab the pitcher of lemonade that he placed in the center of the round dinning table. Conner was already sitting and sampling the carrots with his fingers. The rest of the family joined him. Jon sat between Lois and conner and Clark sat next to Lois. “You and I know that Bruce is going to place some exorbitant bid just to get under Luthor’s skin and then win it.” Lois said smiling at Clark. “True, it’s one of his charming qualities. Clark said, filling everyone’s cup with lemonade. “Charming, eh?” Lois smirked, “guess you would know.” She smirked teasingly drinking from her cup. Clark bit into a chunk of chicken, winking at his wife. “So, boys, how did the new school year treat you today?” Conner perked up and started regaling his first day of high school. He compared the size of the school to his middle school and how much taller everyone looked. He mentioned that Bart was in his math class. “Oh! I also met this one guy whose super smart.” Conner said excitedly, “Like seriously a genius and he’s in three of my classes. Bart wants to try and form a study group with him.” “That’s a great idea, hun, maybe your grades will be better this year.” Lois teased. “My grades weren’t that bad!” Conner spluttered. Lois patted Conner’s hand and turned to Jon. “You wanted to share something with sweetie?” “Yeah.“ Jon looked up at Lois, turned to look at his two other family members, swallowed his food and cleared his throat. “I’m joining the baseball tryouts next week. The couch remembers who I am.” “That’s great news!” Clark exclaimed, “You’re basically a shoo in.” “That’s what I was thinking too.” Jon nodded, a wide grin spreading on his face, but it quickly turned nervous, “I’m also joining the journalism club.” Lois looked pleasantly surprised while Clark looked confused. Conner’s eyes ping-ponged between all their faces while shoving mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Isn’t it going to be hard juggling both baseball and the school newspaper on top of your normal school studies?” Clark asked. “Dad!”Jon rolled his eyes. “Lot’s of people take more than one club. Plus I didn’t get to take any last year due to my leg…” “Did you ask Coach if it was acceptable?” “Yes, I asked Coach and Mr. Thompson and both said that it shouldn’t be a problem, but that I had to take both commitments seriously.” “A team relies that all members pull their weight but, if you think you think you can do it-” “I think it’s a great idea!” Lois cut in.”Sounds like you’ll have lots of fun this year.” Jon beamed at Lois and Clark relented with a fond sigh.

[stuck-in-2012]

A proper Christman gift

S01E03 Doomed

“I made an exact mashed potato replica of principal coulson!” Sam smiled as he held out the faux head on a tray.

“...and a potato sculptor,” Peter thought to himself.

S01E09 Field Trip

“Hey check it out!” Sam turns over his shoulder to show the coloured sketch he drew to Peter. “Pretty cool right? I’m gonna see if Fury will pay for the spikes.”

S01E17 Snow Day

“Uhh my bad.” Sam frowned down at Luke as he dumped out the sand he intended to use on his now ruined sculpture.

S02E02 Electro

“You just got own-dizzled, old style!” Sam held out the large paper he'd been using for the game of pictionary.

AKA: no one talks about how much of an artist Sam is! / The first holiday episode made me mad, so I added a happy ending.

“Bunny slippers are just… ach!”

Danny and Peter made eye contact at Sam’s reaction. Pete had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing and spoiling everything, though he could see the tiny hint of mischief in Danny's smile.

After getting the oversized hat, Peter looked back at Sam’s disgruntled face, allowing himself to snerk and giggle. Sam made a glare and went to lash out at Pete being an ass but was cut off when Danny also gave a small huff. Peter took off the hat, smiled, and reached behind the couch. “Dude, we’re not that mean.”

Pete pulled out a large wrapped object. At seeing the colourful paper, Sam shoved the gag-gift and box onto the floor. The boy was skeptical given the relation between Spidey and Nova, but Danny was in on it too -and Peter said “we”- so Sam had some trust that whatever was in this box would actually be a gift. The fact that it was a semi large box didn’t hurt his intrigue, either. The box was about two by one foot but only three inches tall, give or take.

Peter stepped over to Sam's place on the couch and handed him the box, Sam's hand bobbed down, surprised at the weight. Not heavy, but heavi-er­ than he was expecting. Peter and Danny both had beaming smiles, they almost seemed more excited for Sam’s gift than he was.

“Ya gonna open it or what?” Ava snarked.

Sam rolled his eyes at her and tore into the paper. The first satisfying shred exposed a leathery texture. Sam ran his fingers over the surface, again surprised, before continuing. Revealed, was a large though thin case with golden coloured clasps and handle to carry.

“A brief case?” Sam had no issues this evening sharing displeasure.

“It’s what's inside the case, moron.” May nudged Peter lightly at his insult.

“We do believe you will be rather fond of its contents.” Danny’s smile had only grown bigger as the case was unveiled.

Sam flipped the latches in sinque and leant back as though something would jump out at him. He opened the case a crack to get a preview of what may be inside and was greeted with some odd shapes and bright colours. When the case was open fully, one would think it was full of cash with how Sam’s face lit up in wonder. His jaw dropped gently as his eyes practically sparkled.

“ih… It’s ok if you don’t like it.” Peter’s brow knit with worry.

Sam slammed the case closed and hugged it to his chest. “Don’t you dare!” He gave Peter a noticeably exaggerated expression of ‘I’m warning you’ and gave an extra lean away for emphasis.

“What is it, Sam?” May asked, almost coy. She knew of Peter's plan to do a gag gift but wasn’t aware of what the proper gift was.

Sam stumbled over words as an unbreakable smile stretched across his face. Not able to get out any coherent words, he opened the case back up and lay it flat on his lap. All along one side was a smooth gradient of coloured pencils. Stretched across the bottom, another pallet of oil paint tubes. White and metallic ink pens, oil pastels, a paint brush array, and collection of charcoal and graphite pencils.

“Damn,” Luke dragged out in approval.

Excited at Sam’s joy over something he did, Peter bounced with an open smile. “Oh it gets better.” Sam looked over in excitement and bafflement. How could this get even better?! “You see the little loops in the middle of the bottom? Pull.”

Sam did as instructed and the inside came out and split into two supported shelves. Underneath was again a full pallet of water colour paints and fancy markers. Sam sputtered and floundered over all the supplies.

“Sorry the top doesn’t open, too.” Peter teased apologetically.

Sam sputtered and waved his hands over the rainbows in his lap looking at Peter with a gleeful face. He, May, and Danny laughed happily at Sam’s reaction to the gift. Sam’s hands hovered over the different supplies, hesitant to disturb the pristine packaging each different material had.

Ava gave a light laugh as she said, “I think you broke him.”Sam sent a heatless glare at the girl before finally audibly laughing. He gave Peter and May an inquisitive look before giving a reverse not in Danny’s direction at the realization. This was no doubt expensive. There's no way the Parkers would be able to afford it without some juggling or over time but thankfully Pete went to Danny about it. If just Peter had busted his ass to make the cash, Sam would take it with no hesitation but seeing as May seemed in on everything, Sam didn’t like the idea of her putting in so much extra effort for something so frivolous. But Danny’s loaded, so forget all of that.

[continue?]

[pondslime]

Ok stupid question but I had to ask BC I love the way you answer things haha 💓💓 (Sorry if that was worded weirdly)

So Jonesy (I think that's the dog's name in House of Wax) from all the Sinclair brothers who do you Jonesy likes the most and who do you think likes Jonesy the best?

it's not weird at all!! now that my HOW brainworms are back, any excuse to ramble incoherently about this dumbass movie and the characters is like. PURE gold. lmao 💀

okay, so imo, vinny is definitely the favorite. the first place where we see jonesy in the movie is in the wax museum and that is def not a coincidence!! they were hanging out!! jonesy just got bored of watching her dad labor over the fine details of the wax titty & wandered upstairs.

they're best friends!! I just know it!! that shot where vincent's turning wade to wax? and jonesy jumps up on the bed? the CUTEST. rip wade 🙏 but?? I adore that sm.

and he takes the puppy w/him when he goes to murder blake & paige. unhinged dog dad behavior if I've ever seen it. I can 100% see them both quietly coexisting in the same space together for hours on end—vincent sculpting and sketching, jonesy napping next to him. padding upstairs in the middle of the night to have a midnight snack. UGH

I v much also subscribe to the line of thinking that lester doesn't live in corpsetown & has a lil shack of his own in the woods. but he absolutely hustles up to the house routinely to bring jonesy weird roadkill snacks and play w/her in the backyard. if anyone in the family is committed to getting her energy out, it's v much him. they're just outside for hours n hours tossing a mangled deer leg around and kicking up dirt. I feel.

as for bo. well. he v much strikes me as the kind of guy who pretends to be fairly ambivalent about the fact they have a dog running around. if jonesy ever stirs up trouble or chews thru smthn, he's the first one to be like, "UH??? it's your fuckin' dog?? I ain't never ask for this??"

v much onery dad energy. he catches vincent giving jonesy some food off his plate and immediately starts talking about how he's spoiling the damn dog and THIS is why she knocked over the garbage can & got coffee grounds and eggshells all over the kitchen floor.

never mind that he's always giving her scraps of whatever random concoction he's eating. she's chowing down on eggo waffles and beef jerky and hostess snacks whenever he's around. but no, it's vincent who spoils her. sure, jan.

he wants a huntin and fishin dog, but he's not much of a hunter or a fisher. so he gets a couch potato that sits next to him while he drinks beer and rewatches old spaghetti westerns. and he totally doesn't care about it or like her. totally.

[jacquelinesbookclub]

Monks - Des Dillon

I’ve been in a Funk. A Funk with a big fat capital F. Let me explain.

I had a whole thing lined up to talk about this book, about how sometimes a story is written in such a way that it begs to be read out loud. The difficulty in teaching Shakespeare to kids in English class is that it’s not meant to be read, but heard. It’s written with performance in mind, and trying to untangle it wholly within your own head won’t give it the space it needs to express itself. Monks has an element of this as well, and I can see why Dillon took it and turned it into a play after its initial publication, it’s expressive in a way that needs to be performed. I read the first third or so of this book out loud to myself, pacing my living room gesturing wildly like I was on stage again for the first time in twenty years, and it was fun! It felt like that was exactly how it was meant to be experienced, out loud, in person, in real physical space where it can breath and shout and play, where it can exist. But then disaster, I broke my glasses.

I broke my glasses while cleaning them on my shirt, snapped them clean in two, right down the middle. Less than a week later I broke my backup pair in the exact same place in the exact same way. Broken glasses means I can’t see which means I don’t see and by don’t see I mean I’ve stopped looking. I can’t read, I can’t write, I can’t diddle away on my phone for hours on end. Driving hurts my poor soggy little brain, as does literally anything that requires focus, no riding my bike, no video games, no model kits, no painting, drawing, sketching. I can’t see properly so I’ve not even bothered trying, I’ve let the Funk in and its made itself at home.

...

And stayed there. I wrote these first two paragraphs a month and a half ago, which was two weeks after finishing the book, I’ve barely left the couch in eight weeks. I’ve had new glasses for a while now and I’m still not out of the Funk, so it isn’t that. I tried to blame the weather, it’s been below freezing in the mornings and constantly wet and dreary, but no-one believed me. “I’ve been busy”, I say from my comfy chair, they’re not buying it. I’ve gotta come clean, I’ve been depressed. Not just sad and mopey, but real, teeth in the flesh depressed. Like a bulldog’s lockjaw around my ankle, the ol’ ball and chain dragging me down. But it’s me, I’ve created this, the Funk is coming from inside the brain, and I’ve sealed all the doors and closed myself in with it.

Dillon’s unnamed protagonist continuously refers back to time spent in “the Ward” with Jimmy Brogan, and those of us who know, know that there is often very little healing to be done in places like that; locked up with your own thoughts, ruminating between bouts of sedatives, only people to talk to are like minded or trying to fix your mind like. It’s suffocating, there’s no fresh air to be had, no way to stick your head above the clouds and feel the sun on your face even for a second. You’re in with the Funk, and you’re not goin’ till the Funk is gone. But where is it supposed to go? You’re trapped in there playing hot potato with the Funk, back and forth, bouncing from hand to hand, feeding it with every touch, with every contact. The Funk has seeped into the walls, it’s a sticky film over all the furniture, the entire place reeks of it behind the bleach, you can’t get clean of it because it’s everywhere, you can’t get clean of it in there.

Breaking my glasses might have been the catalyst, but what I’ve actually done is built myself my own personal Ward, not of wood and bricks but of Funk. Dillon says “at some stage we level our eyes to the earth and don’t look up the rest of our lifes”, that’s what I’ve done, I’ve stopped looking out at the stars and turned in on myself. We’re all guilty of this, in our own way, building up walls and keeping our whole world inside. It’s scary out there, and comfortable here in here, I tell myself, but in here there’s nothing but Funk, a circuitous bubble of the same thoughts ricocheting off each other. I need to get OUT.

This is what Monks is telling us, to get out. “We’re over here to stretch our lifes. Make them bigger. Experience things”. Healing happens not in my Funk in front of the TV, but out there, in the world. It happens when I meet a neighbourhood cat, or feed some ducks. It happens when I improvise a silly song with a friend in the moment, when I say something embarrassingly wrong on the phone and the world doesn’t end. It happens when I laugh about missing a shot in a game of billiards, and when the room cheers once I get it right. It happens when I breach above the Funk for a moment and take some space for myself. Every time I get out of my comfort zone and come back safely, my zone expands. Yeah, it’s hard, fuckin’ oath it’s hard. “But strugglin’s good. Strugglin’s perseverance an indomitable spirit. Strugglin’s searching for something stronger inside. Strugglin’s what it is to be alive”. The struggle is what helps the healing, It’s like training my muscles, I push them so they can grow bigger, without resistance I’ll never grow.

So that’s what I’ll to do then, push through the struggle to get out. Get out into the world, Run up a mountain, kiss a beautiful woman, laugh with friends, have a wierd conversation with a wierd guy, share a knowing glance with a cashier at the shops, feel the cold on my face, and see that it’s real. It’s really really really real.

[joeygoeshoppity]

This is a bit about me.

Hey, guys!

This blog has been created for the purpose of recording what I'm doing in my daily life - from May 13th onwards, I'll be uploading stuff (not regularly) on this blog that I feel I'd want to share with you guys, or I might need a perspective on, or ask a few questions, or even make a few acquaintances.

Here's a few things about myself to get started! ~ BASIC IMPORTANT STUFF: What can you call me?: Zoey, Joey, Zo(zo) How old am I?: Well... I'm not going to tell you guys that just yet. I'll say I'm a teenager, though. Nationality: Indian and proud! Many people do confuse me for a Filipina or American citizen, so I'm going to clear it up here. Birthday: 13th November ~ DETAILS ABOUT MY PERSONALITY: Sun, Moon and Rising Signs: Scorpio, Aquarius and Cancer MBTI (Myers-Briggs Type Indicator): ENTP-A (The Debater) Enneagram (with wing) and Tritype: 2w1 215 Alignment Chart Result: True Neutral Temperament: I-C (Sanguine-Melancholy) What are some of my good traits?: I guess I'd say I'm pretty smart - emotionally and intellectually. Many people say I'm level-headed, wise and determined, and the nicest person around. What are some of my bad traits?: While I have a lot of determination, I can get distracted very, very easily. I also have a very sharp tongue and a strong ego on occasion, getting myself into a lot of fights. ~ STUFF ABOUT MY INTERESTS: What do I aspire to be when I grow up?: An architect or an interior designer is of my highest interest, and Annabeth chase is a huge inspiration of mine in that sense. But it doesn't mean that I want to limit myself to just that - I could be a writer, a chef, a voice actress, a vlogger - anything. What book genres do I read?: Generally, I read fantasy novels, but I don't have a preference. And no, I'm not a part of Booktok. Any specific books that I like?: Definitely any major book by Rick Riordan, as well as The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari, the Anne of Green Gables series by Lucy Maud Montgomery, Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli and a few Alice Oseman books too! What movie/show genres do I enjoy watching?: I definitely have a preference for action, comedy and drama films - nothing makes me love a film more than it managing to make me feel like I want to cry. Any favorite shows or films?: I've enjoyed a bunch of films and shows, but nothing beats 8 Below, 3 Idiots, The Lion King, Anastasia, the Adam Project, A Silent Voice, Percy Jackson & the Olympians, Heartstopper, Mystreet, Minecraft Diaries and a few others. What other things do I enjoy doing?: I play the piano (currently in Trinity Grade 4, sketch, sing, play videogames and generally enjoy socialising with people when I get the chance. Other than that, I enjoy annoying (and doting on) my mom, begging her to go out and enjoy new culinary experiences, and being a slight couch potato when I have time to think to myself. And now... ~ FANDOM-RELATED INFORMATION: Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff Patronus: Dragonfly What Harry Potter character would I be?: I would probably not end up being one specific character - I'd probably end up with Neville's heart, something similar to Luna's creativity, Hermione's intelligence and the rest of it... well, Ron Weasley, minus all the siblings. Percy Jackson cabin: Cabin 6, as expected - half of the time, though, I honestly thought it would be Cabin 11 or Cabin 14. What Riordanverse character would I be?: Like with the Harry Potter characters, definitely not a specific character. I'd have Annabeth's intelligence, Frank's sense of self, Magnus's sense of humor and Samirah's self-control. (I'd fill in more stuff, but I feel partially like I want to collapse from post-exam exhaustion.) Anyways, that's my introduction for now. I'll probably redo it later... maybe after a year or two. Hope you guys don't mind reading this absolute dump of an introduction.

See you guys sometime (hopefully) soon!

Sincerely, Zoey

"Where’s the glory in repeating what others have done?"  - Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson and The Lightning Thief

[frank-satomi]

"Today, I woke up...."

(A blog of daily life and realizations)

Saturday: 04/13/24

I woke up at 6:30 to get prepared to meet up with my friends to jog around outlook and gibraltar. We met up and found out just how much jogging hurts not only for the legs, but for your breathing too. I distinctly remember having a sharp pain in my throat, as if I had swallowed knives down my throat. Our jogging slowly turned into a slow pace walk where we circled around the entirety of Gibraltar before taking a pit stop on Mansion to get some water, and to do some rounds of sprints. From that point I felt humbled by how much my body lacked endurance and exercise. Around 9:40 we dropped by the burger place right across our school, we bought one burger and divided it into 3. I was enlightened that you were allowed to add condiments to the plain burger. My whole life up to that point was full of naivety and missed opportunities. This day was also my first time getting a hit of the Cobra energy drink. The taste was distinct, sharp at first but then its sweetness traveled down your throat like a ferryman treading down a waterfall. After all of this, we all went our ways and traveled back to the comfort of our home. At home, panic arises as I was suddenly tasked with solving the Chi-square test in our research manuscript. The solution was anticlimactic, but the following tabulation rocked my world like no other. The night finally comes by and by some grace of God, me and my partner decided to sleep early, at the earliest we’ve slept (on purpose) being “10:40” in the evening. We both agreed to turn our phones upside down just to make sure that we wouldn’t tamper with it any further. This day humbled me, but reminded me that my shortcomings do not define me.

Sunday: 04/14/24

I woke up and my body was heavy. I think I'm gonna sit this day out for a bit. I decided to spend it working on school projects and some Commissions. I was there prepared to spend the day as a lazy couch potato. Finally by some miracle, I found the energy to finally face the commission I was tasked to, and got pretty far with the sketch, I let my client check it before proceeding any further. On this day, I got around to drawing another bunch of random things. I followed a tutorial I stumbled upon on facebook, and the results of the tutorial should be the second image on this post. I’m particularly proud that even on a quiet day, I got to accomplish something.

Monday. 04/15/24

I woke up at least 3 times this morning, and on the third time I woke up. The first two times were strange, waking up at my sleep, roughly around 2:25 am in the morning, the second time at 3:33 am (ohnoes spooky cursed hour). The day went by and as I write this in school, I use it to take note of pending deadlines. I have an artwork to finish by tomorrow, this blog to submit by Wednesday, and a business plan to accomplish along with my groupmates. I arrived home this afternoon with one thought in mind, “draw” and I simply couldn’t wait to finish the drawing I was working on for one of my subjects. Lo' and behold, using the wrong marker color pigment, and the sketch was completely ruined. I sucked up my tears and made something close to it. It should be one of the images attached on this blog. To be an artist, is to have to bear the failures made up from the intense passion and sheer excitement that spurs from the moment, we must keep moving that brush until we’ve made up for it. In life, we'll go through many hiccups, but we can't stop all of it from happening, so we might as well keep moving on.

[manybcdthings]

This wasn't even the kind of chaos Felix could dissociate from. And that was saying something. Because he could dissociate from everything else, but apparently not this. A five foot-nothing, rabid gremlin of a woman, fighting tooth and nail to see something she obviously wasn't fucking ready to see. Clearly, the universe wanted him to be very fucking present for this. It was so stupid. All of this for a sketch.

And for a split second, Felix almost let go. Almost stopped all of this and let her look. But, how was he supposed to explain it? The way the sun hit your face was... pretty? No. You looked peaceful, and it was obvious you were smiling even though the book covered your mouth? Absolutely fucking not. Because the thing was, he knew Cordelia. If the worst that could happen was her giving him hell about it for weeks, sure. He'd take that hit. He'd just roll his eyes whenever she inevitably brought it up. But that wasn't what she'd do. No. She'd probably bolt. It'd be too sentimental. Too close to something real.

Or worse, she wouldn't say anything at all. Felix could already imagine the silence. The way she'd stop seeing the couch in the condo as a safe place to be. And that, out of everything, was the most unbearable outcome of them all. That being said, right now, the condo was absolutely not a safe place for Cordelia to be because he was going to kill her. Since when the fuck was grabbing a journal this difficult? Felix couldn't even get words out anymore, just a string of furious, exhausted huffs as he yanked at it. And why was she so convinced there were words inside!?

"It's just words, Felix!" Oh, fuck you, fuck the universe, fuck the way it just mocked him with that. Because if there were just words there wouldn't even be a fucking problem. "Shut up!" he snapped back, practically growling through gritted teeth as he fumbled forward when she yanked it back. "Jesus Christ, let go!"

And then...

Where the fuck did she go?

One second, they were locked in the world's most idiotic battle, and the next. A thud. Loud. Accompanied by a blur of blonde hair hitting the deck like a sack of fucking potatoes. Felix froze. Just stared as Cordelia's laughter filled the room, something near demonic as she scrambled across the floor like a sewer rat that had never known light. Did she...did she think she was fast right now? Felix blinked. And then he counted exactly five steps. On the sixth, he was right in front of her, stopping her stupid escape in its tracks. He peered down, brow creased, and almost laughed...but he needed that journal out of her hands. "This has to stop." he muttered, crouching down. She still had the journal pinned between herself and the floor. And Felix? Well, he wasn't proud of what he did next. But desperate times, desperate measures.

His hand darted down, right to the spot where her shirt had ridden up, skin warm against his palm, but he didn't think about it. Wouldn't. Instead, he jabbed. And it was not a playful tickle. Oh, no. This was calculated. Precise. Borderline violent. His fingers dug right under her ribs, pressing sharp into her side, enough to zap her, to send a sharp, involuntary jolt of pain. And in that exact moment, he ripped the journal from her grip in one clean motion. By the time she could retaliate, he was already straightening, already turning away, the journal secured. "Grow up." was all he muttered, voice flat, before disappearing toward his room so she didn't get to see the grin spreading across his lips.

At this point, it isn't even about the journal. It's about principle. It's about Felix not wanting her to look inside it, which means, naturally, she wants to look even more. Cordelia doesn't even think she cares what's in there. She already knows the general vibe. Dreary, gloomy, probably poetic in a way that seems unintentional but isn't. Maybe whole days summed up in a single miserable line. January 10th. More suffering. If she thought about it longer, maybe she'd start wondering why he's reacting to her reading it like she just threatened to set it on fire. But she doesn't have time to think. Because she's running.

She's quick, faster than she thought she'd be, fueled entirely by petty determination and the thrill of Felix's very real panic behind her. The journal is gripped tight in her hands, just a second away from cracking it open before his hand twists into the fabric of her shirt. "Hey!" is all she gets out before she's yanked back so hard her body flails like she just got cartoon yoinked, limbs failing to coordinate in time for impact. And then, crack. The back of her head collides with his chin, sharp enough that it feels like he's split her skull open. "Ah, you motherfucker!" she groans, grimacing as she instinctively clutches the journal tighter.

Felix's arms cage her in from behind, and the struggle that follows is just pathetic now. She wrangles the journal, he yanks it up, her arms stretch over her head. She tugs it back, his arms jerk down with her, dragging his whole upper body into the battle. It's fucking stupid. It's all elbows and writhing, Cordelia's spine knocking against his chest as she thrashes. "It's just...fucking...words...Felix!" she gasps, each syllable punctuated with effort as she fights to escape his hold. And then, suddenly, she remembers something crucial.

She's been grabbed from behind way more violently than this. She knows exactly what to do. She drops. Dead weight. A complete, ful body collapse, like someone's rebooted her and she just lost consciousness. Cordelia hits the ground with a thud, limbs sprawled across the floor for one dramatic beat before she scrambles. There's no beating the raccoon-rat allegations anymore. She's in a full-blow gremlin scurry across the hardwood, dragging herself forward on her elbows, journal clutched to her chest like it holds the secrets of the universe. And, of course, she's laughing. Cackling, breathless, gasping through her own ridiculous getaway.

[be-gay-do-heists]

hardison/parker || masc day for parker, potentially while on date with hardison

i think it ended up a little more the dysphoria route with this one but i hope this at least touches on what u were looking for!! had a spark of an idea and had to write it :V

---

If it was just the dress, maybe Parker could stand it.

Hardison had won choosing date night this time around, and he had suggested a new restaurant that recently opened up on the other side of town. A nicer restaurant. Which meant fancier clothes and Hardison had said the dress code recommended dresses so. The dress. It had been fine, leaving the brewpub in it to go meet Hardison at the restaurant. It was comfy enough, the fabric had a nice texture, and it was the same kind of green that you could see if you looked sideways at a professionally cut emerald, which was one of their favorite colors.

It was only upon arriving at the restaurant that they realized they really, really, really did not want to be wearing it.

And if it was just the dress, maybe it would be fine. But they were out in public, and Parker had come to understand over the years that if people in public thought they had your gender clocked, you had to act, walk, and talk a certain way if you didn’t want weird stares, unwelcome attention. A performance that they didn’t particularly have the energy for if there wasn’t a con and the promise of a payout at the end of it. The first “miss” they got from the hostess made them twitch, but they made sure to keep their mask up as they saw Hardison, already at the table, who smiled sunnily as they approached and stood to help with their chair. He was wearing his purple suit, the deep plum colored one that reminded them of a bottle full of red wine.

“Wow. You look amazing, I can’t believe you’ve been hiding that dress for so long,” he said as they both sat down. “It’s not one of Sophie’s?” There was a trace of playfulness in his voice.

“No, it’s mine, I didn’t steal it,” Parker replied, latching onto his good mood for stability. They fidgeted, hyperaware of their bare shoulders and the cut of the dress around their torso. “Well, not from her anyways.”

Hardison snorted in that fond way of his. “Hey, it’s not stealing if it looks that good on you. That’s just proper re-appropriation. Anyways, you’re gonna love this place, the whole idea is normal fancy food, boring boring et cetera, but! They change the colors around so it messes with your senses and makes you experience it differently, you get me? I’m talking like green steaks, purple mashed potatoes. Cool, right?”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Parker agreed absently, discreetly hunching a little and hoping Hardison wouldn’t notice. They fiddled with the utensils on the table, which had little chameleons etched on them. That was fun. This was supposed to be fun, they reminded themselves.

“Hey, you ok?” Hardison asked, brows furrowed.

A waiter came up before he could say more. “Welcome, folks, pleasure to have you with us this evening. Can I start you with drinks?” After Hardison, concern still showing in his face ordered a fruity-sounding cocktail, the waiter turned to Parker. “And for the lady?”

They couldn’t help their flinch, knowing that Hardison saw it, and pulled out their most flawless grifting voice to respond. They deflated a little again once the waiter left.

“Shit. I shouldn’t have said dress. I should have specified that you could have worn anything you wanted, who even cares about restaurant dress codes,” the hacker said, rubbing his hands over his face. Parker had to give it to him, sometimes his brain worked faster than his computers, and he was always twice as perceptive. “Is it a they night? A he night?”

Parker shrugged a little apologetically. “I’m not sure. It’s just really, really not a she night.”

“I’m really sorry Parker, I should have checked in before we came,” Hardison sighed, and having him in the loop did actually make Parker feel a little better. “Do you wanna get out of here? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable for any longer than you have to.”

Parker immediately felt bad again. “No, you won date night, you were so excited about this place.”

“Man, don’t even sweat it,” Hardison reassured them, waving a hand. “We can come back some other time when we’re actually feeling it. Or if it’s never the date vibes, I can ask Sophie if she wants to try it sometime. You know she gets a kick out of dressing up and I’m sure she would call this place ‘an exercise in creative expression and reaction’ or something.” He smiled at Parker’s bark of laughter following his terrible impression of Sophie, which made a couple other patrons startle in their seats.

“I don’t really want to be in this dress anymore,” Parker admitted. “Maybe we could go back to the brewpub and do something there?”

“Hey, if I ever refuse a quiet night in, know that I’ve been replaced with a clone or maybe a mind-eating fungus,” Hardison beamed at them, and flagged down the waiter to pay for their drinks with a tip that made the man’s jaw drop, letting Parker lead the way out.

On the ride home, Hardison gave Parker his suit jacket, pretending he was too hot even though it was damp and cold out. It was far too big for the thief and they thought it was kind of ridiculous how it came down to almost their knees, but the broad shoulders on it made them feel good. And the wine color purple was fantastic, even though they thought it looked far better on Hardison. They said as much, and took a silent satisfaction in the way Hardison ducked his chin to hide his face.

Entering back into the safety of the brewpub and the upstairs apartment took a weight off Parker, and they sighed, kicking off their shoes and slipping off Hardison’s jacket to cast onto the back of the couch. Hardison picked up to carefully keep it from creasing with a “heaven help me” kind of look. “You got everything you wanna wear here? Need anything of mine?”

“Mostly, but…” Parker thought aloud. “Could I borrow one of your shirts? The soft ones?”

Hardison nodded fondly. “Sure thing, lemme grab one.” While he was in the bedroom, Parker stripped off their dress like it was burning them, shaking the feeling of it away once it was off. They spotted their good jeans on the chair by the hallway that Hardison liked to call “Parker’s wardrobe,” where all the clothes they had left while over lived, and rushed to put them on. They were comfy and boxy and had a button-up fly. More buttons felt good.

“Incoming,” Hardison’s voice called, and he entered with his eyes covered, tossing a shirt in their direction. Parker jumped to catch it, and quietly approved of his selection, a wooly flannel type. They wiggled it on, tucking it in slightly, and exhaled in relief on how delightfully big it was, draping off the prominent muscles in their shoulders, leaving enough room on their torso so that the fabric wouldn’t cling to them. They rolled up the sleeves to expose their strong forearms, looked down at their broad hands. Yeah, this was much better, they thought, tying up their hair high.

“I’ve still got those canvases from last time, and the same paints, if you wanna do that. Ooh, I just got some good charcoal too if you’d rather sketch,” Hardison was saying, sifting through his art supplies. Parker bounded over and pressed up against his side. He jumped slightly but turned to look at them. “Feeling better?”

“Lots,” Parker hummed.

The hacker took in their outfit change. “And looking damn handsome too. Real suave, James Dean kinda look.” When Parker wryly grinned and crossed their arms, squaring their shoulders and standing tall, he mimed a swoon (Parker could see the slight, genuine flush that rose to his face). “So what do you wanna do tonight?”

“Dunno, it’s still your date night,” Parker replied, putting a little more husk in their voice and enjoying the way they could see Hardison’s thoughts stutter slightly.

He recovered quickly. “Well, all I want is a nice night in with my fella, whatever we do is gonna be more than alright with me.”

Parker felt another glow of joy at the endearment, and moved to wrap their arms tightly around him, one hand coming up to grip the back of the hacker’s neck. “Thanks Hardison. I really mean it.”

Hardison softened a little against their firm embrace. “Of course, I never want you to be uncomfortable. I love you.”

“I know,” Parker responded, and smiled mischievously into Hardison’s shoulder as he sputtered.

“Oh no you did not—“

[mcyt-imagines]

I loved your "dating tommy includes" hcs! Could you do a dating ranboo includes hcs please? 💓💓

This request was super fun I got a little carried away with it though! Hope you enjoy regardless :)

Ranboo Dating HCs

This boy is an absolute cuddle bug! (Once you guys have dated for a little while first, of course, he needs a little bit of time to feel comfortable enough) But once he’s decided he’s comfy enough around you, you won’t be able to pry this lanky boy off of you. However, every once in a while, he’ll distance himself a little, as if he’s worrying he’s being too clingy. But with some convincing and reassurance from you, he’ll be back to begging for cuddles in no time.

He adores both being the big spoon and the little spoon. The idea of you feeling safe in his arms when he’s the big spoon always makes him feel strong and confident. But feeling so content and relaxed in your arms when he’s the little spoon is something he loves just as much.

This boy isn’t great at remembering dates. So whenever your anniversaries come around, if you don’t remind him, he will forget. So his usual methodically planned out dates are cast aside when he’s on a time crunch, he instead finds himself on BuzzFeed's Top 10 Romantic Destinations In Every City’ or some other dodgy/trashy teen website. They’re still fun because you’ll be with Ranboo, and the spontaneity of them is a welcome breath of fresh air for you, Ranboo not as much, but you do your best to reassure him and curb any of his fears.

Ranboo is the kind of boyfriend who has you at the forefront of his mind, most of the time. This leads to him bringing home countless little trinkets or articles of clothing that reminded him of you. It’s never for any special occasion, he just thought you would like it and so he wanted to give it to you. He will also gift you any sketches he draws that he actually ends up liking, that’s usually only like a fifth of them but he will always cherish your compliments and critique. Mainly because he actually cares about what you think, and knows you’d be honest with him if his drawings were as bad as he sometimes thinks they are.

If you and Ranboo ever fight while you’re together, which seeing as how non-confrontational he is, I can’t see it happening very often if at all. But if you do, he is likely to apologise first, and very shortly after the initial argument. It’s not that he’s a pushover and can’t stand up or himself, he just doesn’t see the point in arguing about something stupid or unimportant, so he’ll encourage you to hash it out with him quickly and with little fanfare. However, if the argument is over something important like morals, he will use his apology to try and reach a middle ground with you. By letting some time pass since the initial argument, he knows both of your minds are clearer and less clouded by emotion, allowing for the two of you to come to a peaceful agreement or disagreement.

Ranboo likes to have you in his stream room whenever he is streaming. If you’re busy with something else he won’t stop you and drag you into his stream room, but you do notice his demeanour change when you’re there or not during streams. He is always quite upbeat but the cute way he looks back at you every few minutes always guarantees a blush to rise to your cheeks. His happy grin contagious even as he looks away and back to chat. You usually will make Ranboo something to eat whilst he’s streaming, especially for lore streams as they’re usually longer. He has accidentally announced it to chat several times having meant to mute himself before speaking, he always gasps too. “You made me lunch! Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that. How about I make dinner tonight for you, huh?” His chat will race by as you press a kiss to his cheek, and he takes the plate from you. “Guys my partner made me luuuuuuunch. I bet you guys are all super jealous.” He smirks, the chat hears your soft laughter in the background as you return to the comfy spot you had been occupying before you left to grab Ranboo some food, munching on something you’d grabbed for yourself.

Ranboo always insists that you do chores together, even if it isn’t the same chore. You can see him vacuuming from across the house as you’re emptying the trash. And of course, loud music is playing during this, chores must be done whilst jamming out. Ranboo is a strong believer in that philosophy.

Ranboo also tries to get hands-on in the kitchen whenever he can. He cooks most of the meals simply because he can be a bit of a picky eater, and thus you both decided it would be easier if Ranboo cooked more often. But there are days where you must cook and you try your best to make the meal as inoffensive as possible for Ranboo, he knows it’s a pain and always thanks you profusely for it. He’ll usually hover whilst you’re in the kitchen asking if he can help dice the carrots, mash the potatoes or stir the bubbling pot of pasta and you usually end up having to dance around the gentle giant as he fumbles his gangly self around your very small kitchen. This has led to some small accidents in which both of your outfits have gotten completely ruined, but you’ve never held it against him no matter how much he blames himself for it. The first time an accident like that happened Ranboo baked cupcakes for you the next morning as an apology and almost burnt down the place because he was so lost in his sulky and broody thoughts, he didn’t hear the oven timer go off.

Ranboo isn’t the kind of boyfriend to get jealous or possessive. This isn’t because he doesn’t care, it’s simply because he trusts you. He has no reason to worry, even though he does, but he refuses to let that interfere with you having some fun with your friends. However, if some person is making unsolicited advances towards you, and you’re looking and obviously feeling very uncomfortable he will not hesitate to step in. This boy may not be confrontational, but he knows when he needs to step up to defend someone, he knows you can defend yourself, but if he can stand in between you and that person he is more than willing to.

At parties together Ranboo sticks to you like glue, he’s not a huge fan of the combination of loud music, flashing lights and crowded people. You know this, and so you keep to the outskirts determined to keep your boyfriend feeling content and make sure he enjoys himself a little too. You don’t go to parties often with Ranboo simply because he doesn’t adore them, but if it’s an important event for you or himself he will begrudgingly go. However, he never dares to complain only pleading with his eyes to leave after a few hours. And usually, by that point, you’ve shown yourself around to the host and whoever you needed to see, so you usually just slip out the entrance with little fanfare. Eager to get home and into your pyjamas for a late-night movie, some cuddles and then passing out on the couch.

Ranboo talks in his sleep. Mostly gibberish, but sometimes he will string a couple of sentences together. They’re usually questions directed at you or part of conversations you’ve already had with Ranboo the previous day. They rarely wake you up, his voice being quite soft, barely mumbling. However, every once in a while, you will humour him, and yourself in the process. Continuing a full conversation with him whilst he sleeps, and sometimes you directly impact his dreams. One night you mentioned cinnamon to him as he slept and the next morning, he said he had been craving Cinnabon’s in his dream, and now that he was awake, he wanted one 100x more. Thus, the two of you made some that afternoon to cull his craving. You made a mental note to keep your effect on his dreams a little secret to yourself.

Ranboo can have difficulty conveying his emotions to you the way he wants to, struggling to find the right words. But when he does, he screams them from the rooftop. Once he confesses to loving you, you hear it often. Whether it’s just a ‘goodbye love you’ on the phone or a heartfelt ‘I love you’ as he holds your face in his hands as you lie awake late at night in each other’s arms. This also is the case with compliments. This boy showers you with compliments, if you’re insecure about a certain part of your body you best bet, he will be putting plenty of focus into making you love that part of yourself just as much as he does. Which is a lot. In turn, it leads to him simply talking about you a lot, you’re on his mind almost 24/7 and he makes sure everyone in his life knows it. Seeing as his family and friends adore you, they don’t mind it too much. This boy adores you with his whole heart and he wants to make sure every single person he ever runs into, knows it. No matter how long you’ve been together, that will never change.

~Requests are always open!~

[ratcatcher0325]

Nobody’s Fool (Chapter #13)

Ooh, spooky number Chapter #13! Let me know what you think of this next song! The lyrics are just *chef’s kiss* for g/t!!

Previous: Chapter #12

Next: Chapter #14

CW: Adult language, dehumanization, references to abuse, mild non-sexual nudity

________________________________________

NOBODY'S FOOL

Chapter #13: Cold Case, Warmed Up

[Eveline's POV]

*************

I felt horrible. He really seemed freaked out. I had to remind myself that no matter how sweet and cuddly, no matter how brave he became, I was still ten times his size, and getting all up in his face wasn’t really the nicest or kindest thing to do. I hated frightening him. I wanted him to trust me and feel completely safe to be himself with me. It broke my heart that I might ever hinder that progress. I did my best to swallow my pride and make sure he got fed. Carrying him with me, I fetched the plate, a turkey sandwich with Swiss cheese and mustard, potato chips and a clementine. I set the plate down, and fed him tiny little pieces as I had done before. We ate in silence for a bit, when I had an idea.

“Hey! Wanna listen to some of Sticks and Stones’ other albums? That might be fun for you to get a taste of more of their music?” He perked up at this idea. Good, there’s the Penn I want to see…. I placed the record on my turntable and set it to play, not too loud so we could talk if he wanted. He pressed his back against the pillow of the sofa, one knee up with his elbow resting on it, the other leg bent at a 90 degree angle to the first. As he gazed over his right shoulder at the record player head bouncing to the beat, he looked especially lovely. I snuck my sketch pad into my lap and drew him like that, his little right hand resting softly before his mouth, the left side of which was turned up in a cheerful little grin. He hummed to the melody, curls sliding down into his face. My hand went to work capturing this perfect little man all cool and comfortable. He made for the perfect life model. I appreciated the opportunity to practice.

Once the first song was over he glanced back to me. Seeing my sketch pad in my lap he leaned forward, gazing at me coquettishly through his brows, “What’re you doin over there?”

**************

I already knew the answer, of course, but it was more fun to play the game. “Oh nothing…” she sighed, “Just drawing this really cute little guy I met the other day that I can’t stop thinking about….” Oof. Don’t tease me like that, Eveline. I know you mean something different but… hearing those words come out of your mouth is hard for this… little guy… to hear. I crawled on my hands and knees toward her, lifting an eyebrow. She turned the page to face me. What I saw took my breath away.

She’d drawn me, sitting back listening to the music, but she’d used the whole page to do it, so there I was, blown up, larger than life, sketched out in grey. My hair sweeping all around the crown of my head in its messiness. She’d captured the relaxed yet attentive turn of my head, my eyes bright and focused. My lips smiling just slightly, my hand resting against my chin. I looked striking, so alive. Innocent, yet knowledgeable, excitable yet causal. I couldn’t believe her talent. No photograph could ever capture what she had with just a pencil between her fingers. My heart pounded in my chest. “Eveline….” I stammered.

“I'm sorry, I should’ve asked before I just started drawing you….” I quickly scrambled to the edge of the couch, placing a hand on her right index finger.

“It’s incredible. I love it. You are crazy talented, and you are welcome to draw me anytime if you always manage to make me look that good!” She seemed to heave a sigh of relief. She smiled down at me, placing the sketch pad on the coffee table behind her.

“You are so sweet. Thank you for being so kind about it. I’m glad you liked it.” She leaned down to kiss me on my head, as I stroked her finger with my palm, smiling up at her while nodding my head.

Just then, her phone rang. She picked me up briefly around my torso, just to place me a little less close to the edge of the couch. Before getting up to retrieve her phone from the other room. When she returned she was already on the call.

“Yeah, he’s here. Hold on, let me put you on speaker….” She laid the phone before me. I sat with my hands behind me, crossing my ankles. Travis’ voice bellowed through the speaker,“Hey hey, little man! Got your feet back under you this morning?” Fuck. I’d been a black out drunken idiot last night. I’d forgotten.

“Ugh! Yeah…. Sorry about that…. To be honest, I don’t remember any of it so… sorry in advance for whatever stupid shit I did to embarrass myself….”

Travis’ hearty laugh over the phone, “Eh, we’ve all been there! I could tell you some stories, I promise. You were tame, my man. Pretty sweet actually….”

I could hear Dani’s muffled voice in the back “Tell him it was cutest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen!!!”

“He heard you!” I chuckled back.

Dani seemed to have a hold of the phone now, “Sweetie, you can give me those sweet little kisses anywhere, anytime, they were fucking adorable.” Oh god! I kissed Dani?? My face went red. I laughed nervously, scratching the back of my neck.

A shuffle of the device. Back to Travis, “So getting back to the subject at hand…. You were incredible last night. I know you know that, but clearly the crowd fucking adored you. Were they skeptical at first? Sure! Did you prove them goddamn wrong every second? Hell yes! I’m gonna email Ev with all our dates and locations for the rest of the tour so you’ve got an idea of the timeline we are working with. You’re a badass and I know you’ve got it, but the rest of us are dumb idiots who actually need to rehearse in order to sound good, so if you’re down I’d like to rehearse every day until we perform again. I’m thinking we do a similar schtick as the Thunderstruck thing from last night until our fans warm up to you. It shouldn’t take long maybe two or three shows…. You’ll go viral quickly, if you haven’t already just from last night. So here’s the other thing, if you’re gonna do this with us…. You’ve gotta be on the road, obviously. Now, I’ve already talked to Ev and she’s expressed that she can do a lot of her work remotely and would be happy to join us for the vast majority of the tour. We figured she could sort of act as your manager and first line of security. But she will have to fly home for small stints to take care of business. Now, I just wanna prepare you that our smallest venues from here on out are sitting at 1,000 seats, our largest is 8,000. So… it’s gonna be way way bigger than last night. Like, way bigger. The last thing I wanted to talk about, which was Riley’s idea, is video capture. So… he mentioned, and no offense here, dude, but you’re so tiny people are gonna have a hell of a time seeing you past the first few rows. So Riley wants to experiment with having a live video feed of you in close ups projected on either side of the stage so people can actually see you play and see you interact with them and stuff. Is that cool with you??”

“Uh…” I choked. This was a ton of information to process at once for a pet who expected to live his whole life sleeping in the wire hamster cage of a human who was addicted to adderall and booze.

“Sorry, man. That’s a lot, like a lot of information that I just threw at you. I’m sorry. I’m just excited! Why don’t we talk more at rehearsal tonight, yeah?”

“O-Of course, y-yeah.”

“Great! Well, have a good afternoon, and we will see ya tonight!” Everyone said their goodbyes and the phone clicked off. I breathed out a puff of air. My head in my hands.

“Woah, you okay?”

I nodded my head, “Yeah… yes… it’s just. Wow. This is a real thing that’s happening. To me. In my life. I don’t know how to process it all…”

She picked me up, holding me in her cupped hands, “You just focus on being the incredible talent that you are. Throw yourself into the music just like you did last night. Let everyone else take care of the rest. Plus I’ll be right there with you every step of the way.” Another kiss on my cheek. I patted her chin with my hand. “Okay, I’ve got some work I need to do with the rest of my afternoon. Are you okay to stay in here, want your guitar?” I nodded to both questions. She handed it to me, setting me all up, before taking up the dirty plate to the kitchen and winking at me in the doorframe.

Alone again. Something I so rarely experienced. I played through the set song by song, getting stronger and more confident on the lyrics. After that was done, I toyed with the instrument. Finding strumming and picking patterns that delighted my ear. I landed on one, and I started to let it breathe. It was bright, swift, lonely. I found myself humming a melody.

Was I…. Was I writing a song right now?? Why not? If I, Penn, the five inch tall pet, was going to break boundaries and defy expectations, I may as well go full tilt crazy. And why not sing a song about my own experience? I certainly had plenty to share. Maybe if I found some good lines, I’d show it to them tonight. I played away, singing softly to myself as I found clever poetry and rhyme to tell my story. The sun abandoned me as I worked, finding myself alone in a dark living room, I continued to play.

I had a moment of embarrassment as I realized I relied on Eveline even just to turn on the lights. Unlike a human who could just get up from his seat on the sofa, flip the switch and sit back down, basking in electric light, I was stuck, curled up, with no choice but to sit in the dark. I hated being little. That’s when I heard a shuffling of feet.

“Awww poor little man! I left you all alone in the dark!” She crossed to the wall, flipping on the switch. We were illuminated in a warm glow. “Better? I’m sorry, sweetheart, I wasn’t thinking! How’s it coming??” She came and sat down in front of me on the coffee table. She reached down, placing her thumb on the side of my neck and head. I laid my head back against the surface of the couch, rolling my temple into her thumb. I watched her closely, her face almost imperceptibly changing as I leaned in to her touch. She seemed to enjoy whenever I did that, cuddling her back as she caressed me. I’m sure it made her feel like she had gained my trust, compared to that first night when I shivered every time her giant hand got near me. Plus, I’m sure she was, just like all those humans at the bar last night, finding all of my tiny movements to be adorable. It was kinda embarrassing, but then again, it made her smile. If the sacrifice was that I had to humiliate myself to get that sparkle in her eyes, so be it.

“It’s going great. When is everyone coming over?” She brushed my hair with her thumb, I sat perfectly still, closing my eyes as she rubbed me.

“Any minute now… you cool with pizza for dinner again? I didn’t have time to plan ahead for anything else.” That made me chuckle. Oh, Eveline, don’t you know I’ve lived my entire life eating whatever scraps my owners bothered to toss my way, if they did at all? No one ever asked me what I wanted to eat… it simply never factored in so, yes…

“Pizza’s totally fine…” I mumbled letting myself enjoy her skin on mine. A sharp wrap at the door. This time instead of fear coursing through my veins, I was excited. For the first time in my pathetic little life I dared to imagine that I had friends. Human friends, no less! I was so grateful to have this circle of people in my life that I trusted to carry me gently in their massive hands, who I felt actually cared about my well-being.

Eveline’s warm touch receded as she bounced up to grab the door. I sat there, guitar in my lap, watching them greet each other. Oh, to be able to cross the room in a few strides and throw my arm around Travis, hug Dani to my chest and pat Riley on the back, an equal. Instead I just waited for them to shuffle over to me. Travis, a large, white cowboy hat in hand, eyed me first, sitting down on the sofa beside me, he whistled, stretching and relaxing into his seat, he dropped the hat on top of me, and I was suddenly plunged into darkness.

I trusted these people, yes, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say my prey instincts kicked in for a second and I gasped, feeling a little trapped, my heart pounding. Above me, Travis faked a yawn, “Hey, any of you guys seen Penn??” Everybody laughed, there was a shuffling around me as light poured in again, “Oh! Oh there ya are little guy! Thought I lost you!” He rested his hat on the coffee table, winking and tousling my hair. “Look, I brought my hat tonight cuz I wanted to be cool and match you….”

I laughed, “Nah, you’re just a copy cat! Now people will think you’re trying too hard…” he found that amusing. Riley, ever the pack mule, raised his hand in a salute to me, before heading out into the cold. I assumed he was going to fetch his drum kit from the van. Dani made her way to me, kneeling on the floor in front of my seat.

“Hey you! How’s my favorite mini music man?” She laid a finger on my knee, stroking my leg.

“I’m good, Dani! Better now that I’m seeing you!” She loved that. “I’m keeping you around forever, little one!!” She squealed.

“Now close your eyes, I have a gift for you…” oh? If I’d ever been told that in the past, it always ended in some awfully cruel joke. This time I knew it’d be different, however. “Close your eyes!” I did so. “Hold out your hands…” I felt something drop into my open palms. It felt plastic, light. “Okay, open!” I opened my eyes to see a plastic baggie with… miniaturized guitar picks. They looked perfect for my fingers. My mouth hung wide open as I blubbered. “I had a friend in town with a 3-D printer. He made those just for you!” I leapt to my feet, pulling the guitar over my head and placing it on the couch seat. I opened my arms wide for a hug, and she wrapped her hand around my body, her thumb curling up over my right shoulder, the meat of her hand wrapping around my left hip and leg as she curled her fingers around my back. I grabbed on to her thumb, pressing into her, warmly, my cheek resting on the tip of her thumbnail. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Dani! You are so thoughtful!!!” I planted a big kiss on the pad of her thumb. She fanned herself as though she couldn’t handle it. As we released our grip on each other she added, “You’re very welcome. I figured those might come in handy and they don’t exactly sell them at the local music shop!” She winked. Eveline had long since joined us, kneeling by the couch as well.

Travis spoke up, “Well… I think we’ve left Riley to his own devices to load in long enough, shall we?” My brow furrowed as I realized Riley hadn’t come back though the front door again. I had assumed we were rehearsing here in the living room. Everyone got up and shuffled off to their various duties, as I picked my instrument back up, Eveline offered an outstretched hand. I climbed in, my legs splayed out in front of me, my weight resting back on my hands.

“You’ve never even seen my studio before have you?” I shook my head, “Come here, while they're doing all the hard work… lemme show you.” She carried me through the living room, past the kitchen and down to another hall, a whole section of the apartment I had never laid eyes on. To the left was a small bathroom and the right looked to be a second bedroom. She pushed open the door, and inside was an incredible space.

Clearly it functioned as her art studio and a space for music. Neon tubing in the shape of a heart, a cactus, a smiley face, a flamingo hung on the walls. There were pictures, paintings, posters, photographs, a Texas flag, littering the walls. There was a door which opened to the outside, a small closed in patio, where the band were loading things in. Riley almost had his whole drum kit inside. To the left was her desk, an absolutely massive monitor shining sleek, electric blue in the room otherwise lit softly with floor and table lamps. There were two couches and some folding chairs. A big plant in the corner. A beautiful ornamental rug on the floor. There was foam padding all over the ceiling and around the doors. Clearly Eveline had more regard for her noise making than her fellow neighbors.

I sat there absolutely mesmerized. I could have spent a whole day just admiring the things on the wall, the beer cans, shot glasses and knick knacks from all over the country that littered the shelves. All of that was incredible enough. But to be here for the purpose of actually making something, creating and collaborating, just like a human… well that was another joy entirely. “I. Fucking. Love. It.” I breathed.

She laughed. “Thought you might. Sorry I didn’t bring you in here earlier.” I shook my head, admiring some of her artwork on the walls.

“Are those yours?” They were these two incredible, almost photo realistic paintings of a naked woman, her body twisted in these strange yet pleasing shapes, hanging side by side. She stepped closer to them, letting me marvel at their beauty and craftsmanship. She was so talented! As I was held up to one of the paintings, I found myself diving into a familiar stormy sea… oh god, were these…. Her?!?

I heard laughter behind me, “Dirty dog!! Ow, owww!!” Riley howled like a wolf. I curled into myself, face turning beet red, avoiding eye contact.

She quickly lifted my chin with her thumbnail. “Penn, it’s okay. It’s just art. I don’t mind. Calm down!” She laughed warmly like it was no big deal. Of course it wasn’t for her. I felt sick to my stomach. I pulled in to myself, trying not to show how shaken I was. I would just avoid looking at that corner of the room altogether.

The pounding in my chest slowly subsided as I was placed on the arm of one of the couches. I watched as the other four set everything up. I wished I could contribute more and help, but I probably wasn’t even strong enough to lift a single coil of cable… soon they were fully operational, Riley pounded on his snare drum, Dani played a little riff. Travis tuned his guitar. I had been placed in the middle, Travis sitting on the couch to my right, Riley and drums just right of center, tucked between Eveline’s desk and the door to the patio, Dani was left of center, hugging the other smaller couch. Eveline curled up on this couch, hardly an arms length (her’s, not mine) away from me. Luckily, my back was to those paintings.

They asked me to play to make sure I was connected to the amps, and as a joke I started playing Thunderstruck again. They all burst into laughter. “Uh oh! Don’t get us started or we will be up all night playing other people’s better and more famous music!” I shrugged, fair enough. We started at the top of the set, I leaned into the microphone which allowed me to be heard over everyone else, while the rest played and sang acoustically. We played that first song that Travis had sung the night before. I wrapped my mouth around the lyrics, having fun playing with my rhythm. It was nice to be facing them, watching the faces they made, the way they bounced and swayed to the music. I’d been robbed of much of this being so down front last night. Even though I was balanced on the rounded arm of the couch, the surface was still plenty wide enough for me to stand, so I couldn’t help but get up and bounce around when I couldn’t sit still any longer. “Look at em’ go!” Dani chuckled, as I danced around. I stuck my tongue out at her, she flipped me off between chords.

We played. Eventually food came. Drinks after that. I happily abstained, having no desire to repeat what had occurred last night. We worked all the songs I’d already been introduced to. They showed me a few more, one I especially liked was somewhat of a duo for Travis and I. That one was sort of this bouncy waltz-y tempo that I couldn’t help dancing to. “Well, my friends, that was excellent. The night is still young… so, just for reference, Penn, when we have the free time, we used to spend the last part of the night jamming. Trying out new melodies and demos. We might record stuff we might not. But it’s how we would collaborate on new stuff…” Oh. Now might be the time… I was suddenly very nervous. Playing their music back for them like a little performing monkey was one thing. Actually being vulnerable and showing these people work that I had done, as a little meaningless pet who had never touched a guitar a few days ago… that was a whole other level of risk.

I swallowed. “Uh…” They all turned to look at me, as sweat started to form on my brow. I cleared my throat, “Um… could… would it be cool if I showed you something I started working on today?”

“Dude.” Alarm bells immediately went off. Travis sounded upset, disappointed. Had I overstepped my boundaries? I was both the new and the little guy here, after all. I was scared. “You’re writing music now too??” Fuck. Why did I feel like I was about to get smacked? “Bro!! Stop being so fucking cool and showing the rest of us up!!” Travis laughed heartily. The rest joined in. Oh thank god. I breathed a sigh of relief. I felt something warm on my cheek. Eveline’s thumb. She winked at me. I smiled back, shakily. The room settled. All eyes on me.

I breathed out a sigh, composing myself. “Don’t worry, if we hate it we’ll only laugh in your face!”

“Shut up, Riley! Be nice!” Dani snapped, leaning back over her keyboard and nodding at me.

Okay. Here we go. I got to my feet and started to play the bouncy rhythm.

[LINK for Song]

My whole body bobbed up and down. I started to sing the lyrics. The story of which, was obvious. I caught Eveline’s eyes briefly, but that only made me more nervous, I stared at my own tapping feet instead.

I hummed the parts I hadn’t figured out yet. Hips swaying to the rhythm. Suddenly, Riley joined in, adding a soft, sharp percussion that sort of shuffled along. That sounded really nice. I locked eyes with him, he seemed delighted, watching and listening to try his best to follow along. I sort of improvised the end, and then it was quiet again.

Four pairs of human eyes looked me up and down. I stared at the floor, unable to meet them. There was an awkward shuffling. Someone coughed. Did they hate it? I thought it went pretty well. I felt my heart sinking to the pit of my stomach. Travis cleared his throat, “…. Please don’t misunderstand…. I think I can speak for all of us and say that was a fucking great song. But…. Uh… how to put this?” Oh, fuck. What? “It’s um….” He faltered.

A finger tip rested between my shoulder blades, Eveline took over, “I think what Travis is trying to say is that… it’s sort of humbling to hear you talk about your experience like that. You’re so aware of your own… predicament… I’ll speak for myself and say that I tend to forget that when it comes to pets, all the time. You guys are so cute to us it’s easy to forget that being so little must be really hard for you…. Being condescended to all the time. I - I’m sorry, Penn…. You’re not angry with us, are you?” Angry? No! You people are the only humans who have ever treated me with any level of respect!

“N-no! God, no… that’s not. I mean, yeah… this,” I gestured to my whole self, “it sucks. But I’m not upset with you guys! Anyway, it’s just a stupid song that came to my head…”

“Hey!” Travis’ sharp voice cut me off, I jumped, “Don’t count yourself out like that. We are playing this song next show, no questions asked. You finish those lyrics and we will add some percussion. You should write more. You bring a whole new perspective that the world has never heard before, you deserve to be listened to.” I didn’t know what to think or say. No one had talked to me like that before. Built me up or encouraged me like that. I was feeling more and more human every moment I spent with these four. A soft, blushing smile blossomed on my face. “Thanks, everybody…”

“Now, don’t get me wrong. You’ll still have to be careful. You can’t come flying out of the gate screaming about injustice. People won’t listen. We have to get enough people to like you, see you as more than just a pet and be won over before you can really start advocating…. But it’ll happen, I have this feeling…” I nodded, all of that seeming like some far off, impossible dream. Right now I was just learning the words to songs, getting used to being a musician and trying to get enough sleep. That was all my mind was capable of tackling at the moment.