#one eye the ratman

[officermaddie23]

Coraline the dorm is on fire

Cause of the fire

Coraline Jones

Wybie lovat

Screams

Charlie Jones

Mel Jones

Miss Spink

Miss Forcible

I will save you

Arias

The other father

Farley

Mr Bobensky

Yo this is lit

One eye the ratman

The other Mr Bobensky

Jex

Talks to the fire

The Beldam

[thenocarts]

I caved and downloaded overwatch again, I hate this guy

[orangeocelotmartyn]

Ren: Do you recognize this artifact, Ratman? Sausage: Oh, um—

Ren: This is an incredible artifact, that we—

Sausage: No, wait, what is this?

Ren: —managed to—well. I can only assume that the Lieutenant had p-pillaged this one from the Black Isles. It once belonged to magnificent king. I believe they called him— the Red King.

Sausage: Wait—I’ve heard stories about of the Red King, I heard that he—

Ren: Yes.

Sausage: —died a horrible death as well. 

Ren: He died a horrible death—

Sausage: Yes—

Ren: --a horrible sacrifice for…his Loyal Hand. It’s a story I’d rather not go over, Ratman, it brings tears to my eyes!

Sausage: Yeah, I remember stories of the Hand of the King, and all the stuff he did for—

Ren: —yes

Sausage: —that king. Y’know, the books have been written. And I’ve read them.  They’re very sad.

Ren: (eagerly) Oh, have you read them, do you have a copy? I’d love to read—(laughs eagerly) I’d love to read a copy of that.

Sausage: Oh—oh, yeah, I’ll find it. I know I have it around somewhere, but I’m very messy—

Ren: Oh, in your library! I know you have a library. 

Sausage: Oh, yeah yeah it could be in the library, hold on—

Ren: Ah!

Sausage: —maybe we could find that book.

[monayen]

idk if I requested this already or if I dreamt it? so sorry if you get this twice 💦

can you please sort the ivory household + satoru + the ratmen into categories that are sort of like "knows where the clit is", "knows about it but can’t find it" and "has no idea what it is"? thanx ❤️

➷ Paring - Multi x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - explicit afab reader, oral (f. recieving) / cunnilingus, fingering, slight sadism (from nyen)

a/n - might be too similar to the coochie eating headcannons but i find this funny so i will be doing it anyways. also im going to default using this banner when its group headcannons :0

- Knows where the clit is

Luther

Very knowledgeable! Studies human anatomy in depth to get to better know you. Books and webpages… but he knows that nothing compares to the thrill of hands-on experience

Lay down on a table and spread your legs for him while he sits before you. Luther will settle himself between your thighs, one large hand resting possessively on your lower belly, just above the apex of your sex. His his other hand delicately spreads your folds apart, watching for your sweet reactions as he thumbs your clit

Luther knows how precious and sensitive this part of you is, and he makes sure to handle you with the utmost reverence

Nyon

Is a generous and attentive lover – a through and through giver. So he has plenty of experience being down there

When Nyon kneels before you, his face buried between your parted thighs, he really is in his element

He doesn't like to tear his eyes away but even if his eyes were shut, he’d still be able to find your clit perfectly with a swipe of his tongue and a quiver of your thighs. Is humble, but he does take pride in it :)

Satoru

Obsessed with every little part of you. Any touch that has you squirming and moaning beneath him will forever be etched into his sentience. So discovering how rubbing your sensitive clit makes you writhe and arch so beautifully beneath him... it's practically a dream come true! (get it?)

Likes to think he teases, slowly tracing circles around your bud, building the tension until it's nearly unbearable. But his own desire quickly overwhelms him, and soon he's palm-fucking you with a frenzied intensity that leaves you breathless and clutching at the sheets

- Knows what it is but can't find it

Nyen

Maybe less of “can't find it” but more “doesn't touch it” So mean!

Nyen is well aware of how sensitive your clit is, and being the sadistic creature he is, he takes great pleasure in denying you the satisfaction of having it touched. Even when he does allow himself to make contact, Nyen uses his sharp nails to send jolts of painful pleasure coursing through your body

Knows that denying you the bliss of rubbing your aching clit means that you'll be writhing in agony, pleading for any type of release. Pathetic and perfect, just for him

Sebastian

We know he has little experience. Even seeing a pussy for the first time made him so red that you were worried he was going to pass out

Still at least knows about the clitrous though, he's not clueless – just inexperienced. Does it mean he can find it without some assistance? No. But he’ll nervously spread you open as he rubs along your entrance in an attempt to elicit some type of reaction

Too awkward to ask you what he's doing wrong, so unless you’re kind enough to show him… get ready for a lot of trial and error. Kind of endearing

- No idea what it is

All the Ratman

Obvious. They just know it feels good when they sink their dicks into your hole – really good. Foreplay is a foreign concept to them, their minds just set on the singular desire to rut and breed

Micheal and Robert have more of the mind to listen to you when you talk about your clit. Micheal is incredibly eager to please, burying his face between your thighs as his tongue laps sloppily at your tender bud (with heavy guidance, of course) He just loves how you clasp your thighs around his head!

Robert is the one who notices how your walls tighten and flutter around his fingers when he grazes your clit. He commits this to memory, hand sloppily rubbing against your clit as he thrusts into you. Only then the other ratman feel how you twitch around Robert’s cock do they really learn to pleasure you there

Randal

Should definitely know what the clit is – considering he canonically watches hentai. Not the best reference for sexual knowledge… but if he stopped staring at tits, he might have picked up that rubbing there would feel good for you

In his mind, the sole purpose of the clitoris is to provide a source of amusement, perhaps by flicking it with his tongue or pinching it between his fingers until you squirm and whine

You can try to guide him to touch it properly, but he has no idea how to use the knowledge to bring you any real pleasure. His touches are clumsy and insensitive, and he doesn't take anything seriously enough to not want to immediately put his cock in you. Best you’ll get is some overstimulation, baby!

[ashley-foster-13]

Hi! Me again, I just can't stop reading tmr headcanons. Can I request 'what would tmr boys reaction would be if their S/O got kidnapped instead of Minho.' Thank you!

What would tmr boys reaction would be if their S/O got kidnapped instead of Minho

- His s/o was not the type to throw themselves in danger

- however, when the berg showed on the horizon, they were one of the first people to put their hands on a rifle

- Thomas got there late, and there was no s/o in sight, so he figured they were safe

- until they sprang out of nowhere, trying to tackle Janson

- the nearby soldier knocked them out right away

- Thomas struggled against the two soldiers holding him down

- misplaced his shoulder in the process

- he yelled the name of his s/o so loudly he probably wouldn't be able to speak for a week

- a huge fight started, during it the kids, including his s/o were loaded in the berg and took off

- being reckless as he is, Thomas managed to keep Janson off board, beating the living hell out of him

- soldiers stopped him, but not before Ratman was half dead and bleeding

- Thomas didn't hide his tears

- was terrified Wicked would experiment on s/o, or kill, or God knows what else

- wouldn't stop thinking about how to save them

- would do anything to get them out alive

- would have dreams when he saves them and hugs and kisses them, wakes up with tears of happiness streaming down his cheecks only to realize it wasn't real and cry some more, but in fear and sadness

- after saving his s/o, Thomas is super overprotective of them

- like, every little thing, a paper cut or a bruise or a slightly different voice would make him run towards them, asking if they were okay

- eventually came back to normal

- but we all know he's soooooo caring and protective

- the moment he saw his s/o in Wicked's arms, his world stopped

- however, he got out of his stupor quickly, trying to run for you, but the soldier kicked his bad leg, causing him to fall

- when he finally managed to stand up, s/o was already gone

- he kept yelling curses at them, kept hitting those injured soldiers who were left there to die

- it helped nothing and he knew that

- honestly, he could've murdered someone if not for Minho, who held him in a tight hug until he calmed down

- his anger turned to an agony

- he was crying hard, because he was in terrible pain, physically and emotionally

- he vowed to get s/o back safe and sound

- would be the first to find them, as if he felt where they were

- didn't let go of their hand until they reached the Safe Haven

- both didn't go out of the hut for a couple of days, talking, crying and promising their love to each other

- when he barely escaped being captured by Wicked, he thought the victory was there

- little did he know they grabbed s/o instead

- s/o bravely fought the soldiers, but Minho couldn't see it

- and then his s/o stands on the berg, helplessness in their eyes as they take off

- and Minho just stands there, angry at Wicked, and furious with himself for being unable to help

- Newt and Thomas promise they'll find his s/o

- he became very grumpy after that, but also really really silent

- sometimes his bottled up feelings would unleash on everyone because of any little thing

- like a stupid question, or a fallen fork

- he wpuld be so eager to find his s/o he didn't even think when he stalked inside the Wicked headquarters fighting off every soldier like they were bugs

- he found s/o exhausted, hurt and bleeding

- but they were alive, that's all that mattered

- hugged them all the way back

- watched as the medics patched them up, controlling everything

- never leaving their side while rlthey recovered

[advisorykitty]

luther x solitary animalperson reader that lives in the woods pls........could be platonic or romantic doesnt matter....teehee......

Falling head over heels

ˡᵘᵗʰᵉʳ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

The woods were your sanctuary—deep, quiet, and far from the unpredictable chaos of other beings. You weren’t exactly fond of crowds, especially the human variety, but you tolerated the occasional drifters. After all, even Robert, the ratman, had wandered through once, starving. You’d shared food with him. You didn’t hate him like the others did. But still, people were best kept at a distance.

Today, however, you weren’t exactly alone.

Luther, with his unnatural gait and emotionless face, was strolling through the forest again. He was hard to pin down—he seemed human at first glance, but something about him didn’t quite fit. You’d heard the rumors about him: supposedly Randal’s brother, caretaker of a bunch of weird creatures, and someone who had been bitten by a dog-man and turned into something… else. Luther was a bit of a legend, even out here in the woods.

You couldn’t help yourself. Curiosity got the better of you, and now you were stalking him. Well, sort of. More like observing from a distance.

With a soft huff, you perched yourself high in a tree, your tail flicking idly behind you. From up here, you could see everything. Luther was ambling around below, hands clasped behind his back, occasionally looking up at the trees. You tensed every time he glanced in your direction, praying he hadn’t spotted you.

For the most part, Luther seemed preoccupied. He muttered softly to himself in German every now and then—something about water, or sleep, or how he still needed to decorate his house for Christmas despite it being the middle of the year.

Weird guy.

You leaned back against the sturdy branch and watched him silently. This wasn’t the first time you’d stalked someone through the woods, but Luther was a whole new challenge. There was something about him that was unnervingly calm. Even when a branch cracked under his foot or when he accidentally startled a squirrel, his face remained completely neutral. No panic, no anger—nothing.

Just… blank.

You grinned to yourself.

Freaky.

But you weren’t about to let him know you were there. You were good at this—blending in with the trees, keeping your breathing quiet, your movements subtle. Not even Nyen, that arrogant catman with his sharp eyes and big mouth, could catch you half the time.

Well, except for that one time you got into a fight with him. You were perched up in a tree, minding your own business, when Nyen had decided to climb up after you. It didn’t take long for you two to start throwing insults and punches—he thought he was so tough. You’d almost knocked him out of the tree, but in the end, you both landed on the ground, hissing and growling like a couple of alley cats.

You smirked at the memory. Idiot.

But Luther? He was different. You couldn’t quite figure him out. And for some reason, that made you want to keep watching him.

Unfortunately, the tree had other plans.

The branch beneath you groaned softly, and before you could react, it gave way completely. You plummeted toward the ground, but years of surviving in the woods had honed your reflexes. You twisted in the air, landing on all fours with a soft thud, your limbs bending gracefully under the impact.

You straightened up, dusting yourself off, and silently prayed that Luther hadn’t seen—

“Ah, guten Tag.” His voice was gentle, like he wasn’t at all surprised to see you drop out of the sky. “Falling from trees now, are we?”

You froze, mid-brush, as Luther’s blank face turned toward you. His expression didn’t change—he didn’t smile, didn’t frown. Just stared at you like he’d been expecting this the whole time.

Your ears twitched in annoyance. “Wasn’t falling,” you muttered. “It was… a tactical descent.”

Luther blinked once, slowly. “Right. Of course. A tactical descent. How silly of me to assume otherwise.”

You felt heat rising in your cheeks, though you weren’t sure why. You’d faced down worse than this—a handful of hunters, an angry Nyen (on multiple occasions)—but something about Luther’s calm, flat response made you feel like an absolute idiot.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, turning your back to him. “What are you doing out here, anyway?”

“Walking,” Luther said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He glanced down at his arm, flexing it a little. “Making sure I’m not... bitten again.”

“Again?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you.

He nodded, as though this was a normal part of his life. “Yes. Last time I was out here, a dog-man bit me. Very unpleasant. I’ve been… cautious, ever since.”

A low chuckle escaped you. “What, you scared of a dog now?”

Luther’s head tilted ever so slightly, and he looked at you with what might’ve been confusion. “Not scared. Just… aware. Dogs are unpredictable. Much like you.”

You bristled slightly. “I’m not unpredictable.”

Luther shrugged, a weirdly smooth motion for someone who otherwise moved like a mannequin. “Of course not. You just fall out of trees on purpose, ja?”

You scowled, your tail flicking in irritation. “It was the branch, okay?”

Luther nodded, though his expression didn’t change. “Naturally.” He paused for a moment, looking around at the trees, and then added, “You don’t happen to know any... rats, do you?”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Maybe. Why?”

“Ah,” he said, his voice softening slightly, “no reason. Just... dislike them. Especially a certain one.” He rubbed his arm again. “He’s been around here before, hasn’t he?”

You gave a noncommittal grunt. “Maybe once.”

Luther sighed, though it sounded more like an imitation of a sigh than anything real. “Good. Keep him away from me, if you can. I’d rather not have to clean up after another... rat problem.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Don’t like cleaning up after rodents, huh? What a shame. Thought you were the housekeeper type.”

He blinked again, this time with a slight twitch of his head. “I prefer cleaning after... cats. Less disease. More fur.”

Freaky, you thought again, but there was something amusing about him. Something weirdly... endearing?

“So, uh, you do this often?” you asked, trying to sound casual. “Walking around the woods, being all… creepy?”

Luther gave a slow, deliberate nod. “I find it... peaceful. Besides,” he added, glancing up at the trees, “you never know when someone might... fall.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at him half-heartedly. “Very funny.”

But Luther just stood there, staring at you with that same emotionless expression. It was like trying to talk to a robot. A creepy, German-speaking robot that occasionally babysat murderers.

For a second, you wondered if he had any idea how weird he was. Probably not.

“Well,” you said, breaking the awkward silence, “I’ll be going now. Before another branch decides to... ‘betray’ me.”

Luther nodded once more, almost mechanically. “Good idea. Stay safe. And... avoid the dogs.”

You rolled your eyes, giving him a quick nod before turning and darting back into the woods. You scaled the nearest tree with ease, vanishing into the canopy once again.

From your new perch, you watched as Luther continued his slow, deliberate walk through the forest. He didn’t seem bothered by your presence—or your abrupt departure.

Weird as he was, you couldn’t deny it was kind of... nice to run into someone who wasn’t constantly trying to kill you.

Though you weren’t about to make a habit of falling out of trees.

----

Two weeks had passed since your last, uh, tactical descent in front of Luther.

And what better way to commemorate the occasion than to stalk him and his whole damn family on their weird camping trip? You’d spotted them earlier this morning while wandering the forest—Luther, of course, with his stiff, emotionless expression, and his entourage of freaks.

The moment you saw Nyen, you’d hissed under your breath, your ears twitching with irritation. That damn catman had nearly clawed your eyes out during your last fight, and you weren’t about to let him off the hook for it.

Perched high in a tree again (because why the hell not?), you watched the group set up camp. It wasn’t exactly the most well-organized event you’d ever seen—Randal was doing some weird contortionist shit, folding himself into a ball while holding one of his creepy-ass dolls. Nyon, the other catman, was sitting cross-legged by the campfire, reading a some russian novel like a pretentious nerd. And Nyen? He was being his usual douchebag self, chopping wood like he was auditioning for a lumberjack competition.

Luther was, as usual, overseeing everything with that same deadpan expression, occasionally muttering something in German to his “family.”

You squinted down at them, feeling a mixture of amusement and disgust. “What a freakshow,” you muttered to yourself, adjusting your position on the branch. “And why the hell am I up here again?”

Then you remembered: Nyen. That stupid, cocky catman. You couldn’t stand him. Every time you even thought about his dumb face, wearing that NEVADA shirt he was so proud of, it made your claws twitch. You had half a mind to drop down from this tree and knock his block off.

But not yet. You wanted to see how this played out first. Besides, Luther was speaking again.

“Sebastian,” Luther called, his voice calm but firm. The guy was sitting near the edge of the camp, fiddling with something in his hands. “Did you refill the water? Or are we going to... die of thirst out here?”

Sebastian looked up, eyes wide and a little panicked. “Uh... no. Not yet.”

Luther sighed softly, but there was no real disappointment in his tone. “Mach das bitte. We need water.”

Sebastian scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over a log in his hurry to get to the nearby river. You watched him go, feeling a bit sorry for the guy. Out of everyone here, Sebastian seemed like the only one who wasn’t completely unhinged.

Randal, on the other hand, had started balancing one of his dolls on his head while humming to himself. The creepy bastard hadn’t stopped smiling since they arrived.

You rolled your eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with these people?”

And then, because the universe apparently loved to fuck with you, the branch beneath you cracked.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, scrambling to grab hold of something, anything. But just like before, the damn thing gave way, and you went plummeting toward the ground.

At least this time you were sort of prepared. You twisted mid-air, managing to land on your feet with a lot more grace than last time. Still, you couldn’t help the string of curses that flew from your mouth as you straightened up.

“Goddamn trees,” you growled, brushing off the dirt from your pants. “Fucking branches can’t be trusted.”

Of course, the entire camp had seen you fall. Again.

“Well, well, look who decided to drop in,” Nyen sneered, his stupid, smug face grinning at you like he’d just won a fucking prize. “Didn’t think we’d be graced with your presence so soon, tree climber.”

You shot him a glare, baring your teeth. “Shut the hell up, Nyen, before I knock that dumb shirt off your back.”

“Ohoho, big talk for someone who can’t stay in a tree for more than five minutes.”

Before you could lunge at him and make good on your threat, Luther stepped between the two of you, his calm, flat voice cutting through the tension. “Nyen,” he said, “enough.”

Nyen backed off, though he was still smirking like a jackass. You hated him so much.

Luther turned to you, his expression still neutral. “Fallen again, I see.”

You crossed your arms, scowling. “Yeah, yeah. The fucking branch broke.”

Luther nodded slowly, as if he’d heard this excuse a hundred times before. “Of course. The branch.”

You glared at him, but Luther, as usual, was unphased. He simply turned back to his family, clapping his hands twice. “Alright, everyone. Let’s focus. We’re here to enjoy the nature. No more fighting.”

Randal grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I don’t mind a little fighting. Keeps things interesting. I like it when things try to kill us”

“Not today,” Luther replied firmly, his gaze shifting to Nyen. “We’re here to relax." He then shifted to Randal "Bad boys go to the closet, remember?”

Nyen grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue. Probably because he knew Luther would have his ass if he did.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Why the hell are you even out here? This forest is my territory.”

Luther glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “We needed a change of scenery. And fresh air. Plus,” he added, you are always here, so I assumed you wouldn’t mind the company.”

You stared at him, blinking in surprise. He assumed you wouldn’t mind? Did he not realize you avoided people for a reason?

“I mind,” you said flatly. “A lot.”

Luther just shrugged. “Too bad. We’re here now. Might as well make the best of it.”

You huffed, looking around the camp. Nyon was still reading his book, completely ignoring the chaos around him. Sebastian had returned with a couple of water jugs, looking exhausted and more than a little nervous. Randal was playing with his dolls again, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch.

And Nyen? He was glaring at you from across the campfire, his eyes narrowed like he was sizing you up for another fight.

You sneered at him. “What? You want round two, asshole?”

Nyen smirked. “Anytime, tree climber.”

Luther sighed, rubbing his temples. “Why can we not be civil?" "We’re supposed to be... bonding.”

You snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Randal suddenly looked up, his eyes wide and filled with excitement. “Oooh, we should go hiking! Or climbing! It’ll be like the time we went climbing with Luther, remember? Except, you know, without all the falling.”

Your eye twitched. Fucking Randal.

Nyen laughed, his stupid grin widening. “Yeah, maybe you can show us how not to fall out of trees, tree climber.”

That was it. You were about to leap across the fire and tackle him when Luther’s calm, even voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Don’t.”

You froze, glaring at Luther. “But—”

“Nein.” He shook his head slowly. “We’re not doing this. Not today.”

You growled under your breath, but reluctantly backed off, knowing full well that Luther could—and would—send Nyen and Nyon after you.

“Fine,” you muttered, crossing your arms again. “But I’m not stay if that asshole’s gonna be here.”

Luther just nodded, as if that was perfectly reasonable. “Stay if you want. Leave if you want. It is your choice.”

You scowled at him, but he didn’t react. He never reacted.

Staring at the weird bunch gathered around the fire, you let out a long, frustrated sigh. Maybe staying wouldn’t be so bad. At the very least, you could keep an eye on Nyen. And if he stepped out of line, well...

You’d be ready.

---

Night had finally settled over the camp. The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows over the bizarre assortment of people who, for whatever reason, had decided to call this forest their temporary home. Randal was snuggled up in his coffin (because of course he was), Nyon and Nyen were curled up nearby, both of them eerily still as they slept. Even Sebastian, poor nervous Sebastian, had managed to pass out in a tangled mess of blankets. And Luther? Well, Luther was standing watch like the weird, emotionless sentinel he was, occasionally muttering things in German to himself.

You had to admit, the sight was kind of peaceful... but also incredibly annoying. You hadn’t come to this forest to deal with this madness. You lived here, for crying out loud. You weren’t about to let these freaks make themselves at home without at least trying to maintain some distance.

Which was why you’d climbed up a tree. Again.

Perched high in the branches, you glared down at the camp below, your arms crossed over your chest. "I'm not that fat," you muttered to yourself, shifting to get more comfortable on the branch. "I shouldn’t have fallen last time. Stupid tree."

You’d been watching them for hours, waiting for some sign of movement, something that would give you a reason to swoop down and scare the crap out of Nyen. But so far, everyone seemed dead to the world—well, except for Luther, who probably didn’t even need to sleep like a normal person.

Feeling a little more confident, you leaned forward slightly to get a better view of Luther standing near the fire. You knew he could probably sense you up here, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. Just keep watching. Don’t fall this time. No need for more embarrassment.

But, because the universe had it out for you, you shifted your weight just a little too far. The branch beneath you let out a soft creak, then a loud CRACK.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you whispered in horror as gravity took hold.

And down you went.

Again.

Except this time, instead of landing gracefully like before, you smacked every branch on the way down like a goddamn pinball, leaves and twigs flying everywhere.

“SHIT! DAMN IT—FUCK—”

You finally crashed to the ground with a thud, flat on your back, the wind knocked out of you.

You blinked open your eyes after your second painful tumble from the tree, chest heaving from the fall. Everything hurt, from your bruised ribs to your dignity.

And then, you saw him.

Luther was standing directly over you, his face just a little too close, his head tilted at that unnatural angle, his wide eyes blank and unblinking. His emotionless expression remained as it always did—flat, robotic—but he loomed over you like some kind of eerie statue.

You gasped, jerking back with a start. “Jesus fucking—gosh!”

“Guten Abend,” he said in his usual monotone, his voice low but somehow managing to be both deadpan and unsettlingly calm. "You fell again."

Your heart was racing, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe. He was standing right there, like he had teleported into your nightmares, but you knew he didn't move that way. He was just… Luther.

“Could you not do that?” you snapped, pushing yourself back a little further away from him, still trying to regain your composure. "I swear, you just—what the hell is wrong with you?!"

“I heard a noise,” he replied, his voice devoid of inflection. “I checked on the noise.”

His face remained blank, expressionless as always, but his eyes were fixed on you, unblinking. It was like staring into the face of a mannequin that had somehow come to life—or almost alive. He was trying, you could tell, but there was no warmth in his gaze, no real understanding of why you might have a heart attack just from waking up to him looming like a creep.

“I’m fine,” you grumbled, sitting up and rubbing the back of your head. “Just… give me a second before you start hovering over me like some kind of stalker. Ever heard of personal space?”

Luther blinked—finally—and took a step back, his gaze still locked on you. “I thought you might be injured. But you are not.”

“Well, thanks for that stunning diagnosis, Dr. Creepy,” you shot back, still a bit shaken by how close he'd been.

“I’m not a doctor,” he responded, almost as if that were a genuine clarification. “But you should rest anyway. You fall often.”

You gave him a flat look. “You know, you don’t have to say it like that.”

“I am sorry,” Luther said, though his voice didn’t sound sorry at all. It was the same empty tone, like he was just saying the words because he’d read them in some manual on how to be a human being. He straightened, his towering figure no less unsettling as he looked down at you, his hands loosely clasped behind his back. “Do you require assistance?”

“No,” you huffed, waving him off. “I’m fine. Just… go back to whatever the hell you were doing. I don’t need you standing there like the Grim Reaper every time I screw up.”

“I do not reap,” he said, matter-of-factly, staring at you in that unnerving, dead-eyed way that made your skin crawl.

You groaned and scrambled to your feet. “You’re impossible.”

Luther stood there, unmoving, his head slightly tilted as if he were trying to process your frustration but failing completely. Then, without a word, he turned and walked back to the campfire, his movements unnaturally fluid, like he didn’t have bones, only the memory of how humans should move.

As you dusted yourself off and tried to calm down, you grumbled to yourself, “I’m not this fucking fat. It’s definitely the trees.”

From the campfire, Luther’s voice floated back, calm and emotionless as ever. “It could be the trees. Or your weight.”

You clenched your fists. “I hate you.”

“Guten Nacht,” Luther said, sitting back down, utterly unbothered.

You glared at his back, heart still racing from the scare, and muttered under your breath, "I really hate this family."

(P.s Nana and kitty are relaxing in the tent like the girl bosses they are!)

[cryptid-quest]

Cryptid of the Day: Ratman

Description: Beneath an underpass in Southend, Essex, locals tell of a tale of a rat the size of a man. There are 2 versions of the legend. One is that the Ratman is the ghost of a homeless man, and the other is that it’s a mutant child, who was hidden in the underpass and away from the public eye. 

[mmmfanfiction]

Asking them to go to McDonalds at midnight with you || Ranfren x reader

Randal-

🤓immediately says yes.

🤓he’s really excited to go outside with you

🤓may or may not ask Luther.

🤓If he doesn’t this causes Luther to panic and scold you both, so you should check with him just to make sure.

🤓-10/10 you guys were banned from the McDonald’s

Sebastian-

🤡hesitant, but eventually agrees

🤡Randal ends up tagging along because Sebby would get in trouble if not

🤡actually has a decent time, it’s kinda like being normal again, which he appreciates

🤡thinks of asking one of the workers for help, but decided not too since he doesn’t want them to get dragged into such madness

🤡 9/10 because Randals there

Luther- 

👁️ does not wanna go out

👁️one, he’s tired, two, he doesn’t even like fast food in the first place, three he could make you a much better meal.

👁️might relent if you beg enough but more likely then not is he’s just going to make you a suitable snack and then go back to bed

👁️2/10, only bc he didn’t actually let you go to McDonald’s at that time

Nyon-

🚬says yes.

🚬he probably just sits in the booth across from you staring

🚬high asf

🚬10/10

Nyen-

🐺Side eyes you

🐺did you really have to wake him up for this?

🐺will probably ignore you to go back to sleep, though after a while he finally gives in

🐺if he didn’t look intimidating before he definitely does now

🐺he scared the workers with his annoyed and tired expression :(,

🐺5/10 it went fine but he ran his car into a deer on the way back

The ratmen-

🐀no.

🐀okay but seriously, you have to go by yourself and bring them the food

🐀actually Micheal and Ratman 3 go with you

🐀probably got just about everything on the menu

🐀if you do this often you may coax the whole group into coming with you

🐀3/10 your broke now

[fortunatelyannoyingcrown]

Rant incoming(won't be very pretty)

The most disgusting thing about Rhysand Stans is that their hate for Tamlin is so excessive, they want to pair him with a POS pedophile Amarantha, and come up with the most insane theories about why they are mates?The new Reddit post, talking yet again, about Tamlin and Amarantha being mates is just another example of how much hate can make you say the most asinine things without any single sensible thought put into it.

To all Rice plant stans currently obsessing over the theory of the male you hate being with a predator, let me tell y'all something.Y'alls jealousy, that Tamlin was pursued and wanted way more that Rice plant, by other people, is just too obvious and is too hilarious.Maybe, if Rice plant wasnt such a malicious, narcissistic, gaslighting rapist/physical abuser, then he would have a chance....nah, he's still a shortie, shorter than Tamlin, so besides Feyrat, no one would give a shit about him,🤣🤣🤣🤣 Tamlin was pursued by noble women, well before Acotar and even your fave's mate was willing to freaking die for him.Tamlin's the man, get the bloody fuck over it.Your fave ratman would never,ever compare.

Now, onto some actual facts so that y'all's pea brains hopefully understand(I don't have much hopes, but I will still put it out there)

For the mate theory to work, both Fae should be obsessed with each other.Here's the catch: Tamlin hated Amarantha because she ruined his life, and pursued him since she was a child.That does not scream mate energy in any way.He had no problem killing her too, and that is impossible if you are mates with someone.Also, if Amarantha knew anything about it, she would have held this over her head and everyone else's surely, and that's not something that happens.Your "theory" therefore makes zero sense and it is STUPID AF, and just another excuse for y'all to shit on him and make him miserable👍.I see through y'all's BS

So for y'all's wishes that Tamlin is as miserable as possible, I will say this too- I hope Riceplant is revealed as the monstrous villain that he is and that he tricked Feyre.I hope that bitch cries her heart out and stays miserable and y'alls little fantasy bubble that he is the dream boyfriend pops hard🖕🖕🖕I also hope Tamlin makes him suffer and he dies the worst possible death.

I hope and wish for every horrible thing to happen to Riceplant, his bitch of a mate and everyone else in the inner circle.I wait to see their misery with my own eyes, as it happens in the series.They and their Stans can go fuck themselves👍

[sewinrat]

Robert x catman reader who doesn't even attack him he just talks to robert in the walls and doesn't tell anyone about him. Literally just chills with him

*Reader is gn but can be towards male.

Seeing to see a rat invaded your fridge should've been alarming or something near that especially to a cat like you but to be honest, you're too tired to care. However the rat with a crying eye does care, immediately taking advantage of your tired daze and scurries away into a rat hole.

Blinking tiredly, you walk towards the fridge to grab two cans of beer. Then you walk towards the hole and sat down on the floor next to it. Offering one of the cans towards the hole you said, "I'm not gonna do shit. Want one?" To be met with silence that is until a hand reaches out to grab the can quickly.

You'll take it as a peace between you two and open your own can to drink it. Slowly, before the two of you know it, you started to babble on another any kind of topic you can think of for a conversation with the ratman inputting some of his words. His tone visibly getting softer and more chill and less tense.

Hours into the conversation before suddenly Nyen came in and the conversation cuts dry. "What are you doing?" Nyen asked with a sneer that you wonder if it was permanent by now. Looking between him and the hole, you then show a small yet smug smile at him replying, "None of your business." Forever keeping your conversations with the ratman. After all, he's yours now.

[officermaddie23]

The Beldam: I can’t believe this I throw everything I got at her and (sees that One eye is wearing merchandise of Coraline) WHAT ARE THOSE

One Eye the ratman: I don’t know I thought they looked kinda dashing

The Beldam: I got the next 23 hours to get rid of this bozo before my plan that I set up for the last 18 years goes up in flames AND YOU ARE WEARING HER MERCHANDISE

The Other father: *drinking a drink out of a Coraline themed cup*

The Beldam: *looks at the other father with rage in her eyes*

The other father (nervously chuckles): Eh heh thirsty

The Beldam: AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHGGGG

[lylathewise]

S2:E5 First thoughts

Man, that guy will never keep his jaw, if Vi has anything to say about it

Ugh, that one Silco goon. Ick

They're legit reuniting? I'm bouncing about this

Aww, I was kinda hoping Ambessa was dead. I was all pumped to write about how Caitlyn would steadily lose more allies and people she could talk to, becoming more unhinged and descending while Jinx rises and becomes more stable with friends and allies, showing that support means everything. I still think that's where this is headed

Caitlyn looks like a vampire, and then she's surrounded by all this gore?

Ooh, the visualizing thing came back

Damn, Singed isn't dead and is now in the hands of Piltover? Although, maybe Salo will come looking for him?

Literally how do they know Singed summoned Warwick with his blood?

Mel, my baby, what did they do to you?

The prison cell looks dope though

Yay!! I knew they'd at least show her brother!

Big ol mouthful of marshmallow fluff

Ooh, they're really having it out

The shade! Stop, Jinx, she's already dead, just look at her hair!

God, this is such sister fighting, it's great

That little flash of who I assume is Singe's daughter? Chilling

YOUNG SILCO, I REPEAT YOUNG SILCO

So they did keep the backstory where Silco was the one who initiated the riot by throwing a molotov cocktail, getting Powder and Vi's parents killed

The contrast between the young Jinxs eyes, yeesh

Ok, so Singe merged the faces of himself and Silco in Vanders mind? And also made him hotter? His working eye? The longer hair? I'm not ok

Kino is such a charming rebellious son

Of course the writing on the wall is the way to get out

Is Kino working with Black Rose?

The daughter's room is beautiful

I love this way of taking Mel out of her regular zone of influence and really letting her shine

Aww, I'm kinda sad Kino really is dead, but the show can't handle another character to focus on

Mel going Super saiyan wasn't on my bingo card, but I love it. I'm a little sad that she isn't just a regular human, everybody has to be super special in some way

So did Silco kill Vanders wife by accident? Or was he already angry about it and Silco pissed him off?

Blisters and bedrock, their mining motto, I love it so much

The way she said "Vander, no" like telling him not to be on the couch

Vi is chasing the monsters away from Isha

Young Vander! So cute!

YOUNG SILCO!!! I'M GOING TO LOSE MY MIND

look at my little revolutionary scribbling with that bun!!!

Ok, that nail polish and that voice, she's absolutely Vi and Jinxs mother

We get silco smile?! Oh Silco community, we fucking ball

Vander doing the same juice routine for Jinx as he did for her mother while the same song plays? What if I cried?

Soft Silco and Vander? I feel like I'm dreaming

Ohhh Silco loves her. Oh no

Ohhh, no wonder Silco was so fucking furious. Vander completely gave up on her memory, at least that's what he thought, until he took in one of her daughters too

Yay big hug!!!

Aaaaa big hug!!!!

How did Salo get fixed??

How's it feel to be forever physically scarred by the results of your actions, Jayce? How's it feel?

Ohhh, he went to Viktor! Of course, when the Messiah comes around, you gotta go!

Do you want to speak to your ex? Ha, no time for an answer, here he is!

Woooowwww, basically no hesitation in mercing Salo. Respect, Jayce

This is my new favorite episode, I got post breakup Vi, Sisterly fighting, My beloved ratman, Big family Reunion, Two exes seeing each other after divorce, and Jayce not fucking around anymore 10/10

[zer0brainc3lls]

I bet on losing dogs pt4

masterlist

story summary: what if newtmas was canon in the death cure and there was a plot change?

word count: 8.3k

TW LIST: detailed gore, detailed mentions of blood loss, typical canon violence. let me know if i missed any!!

Newt's bones and eyes are still so so heavy but he has woken up, the muscles in his eyes twitch to open but his brain screams at him before he moves. DON'T OPEN YOUR EYES his survival instincts holler at him, he can't trust anyone anymore except his own heavy body. Where are you? Newt feels that the room is cold, his arms and legs are strapped down by what feels to be.. Warm leather. The leather is warm, he's been there a long time. He hears bombs raging on in the distance, it's muffled. Are you hurt? Newt can still feel his right palm stick against the bandages Minho had applied along with deep discomfort, his hand feels exposed despite being covered. His face still sears with agony from the scratches and his wrists whine in overuse. His bad leg screams at him, the muscles feel tight and raw under his flesh but despite that he has no new injuries except he feels a prick in his lower arm. 

He feels blood being drained from his arm, his senses heightened already to pick up the sound of quiet breathing, along with heavy footsteps not too far away pacing rhymically. Keep your breathing steady he continued to breath at the pace he was earlier, his chest rising and falling in time with the steps. Who's in the room? The person who is drawing his blood is steady, clearly trained because the pain in his arm is very miniscule. Ava Paige is dead and the halls of the tower were empty, wait. Teresa had called for him to come back so she must have been waiting, Teresa is drawing his blood. The heavy footsteps boom louder with every step, presumably Janson. “What's taking so long?!” the ratman snaps. “He's dehydrated, the blood is barely coming out.” Teresa replies, her voice wobbling slightly. As if her words summoned it, his throat scratches at every breath he takes in as his head pounds desperate for water. 

After a minute or two, Teresa finishes extracting his blood and removes the needle from his arm. Newt knows where he is, who he's with and what state he's in. He's not going to learn anything else with his eyes closed. open your eyes Newt listens and slowly opens his not so heavy eyelids and says, his voice scratching “why don't you just kill me?” his eyes drawn to the gray haired man. Janson turns and speaks in a low voice “no we don't want to do that Newt” he walks ever so slowly, almost taunting him. “We're going to take special care of you. We’ll keep you alive, just. And in return, you give life to the rest of us..” The crank turns on his heels at a snail pace, reaching out for something and making all of two steps back to newt. Holding a cylinder tube with a cap he ever so slowly removes and places to the side, the tip of the needle mocking him. The small see-through part of the mostly black cylinder glows a light blue. Desperation and rage bubble in his blood at the sight, the syringe Newt desperately needs, the serum he would give his own life for just out of reach. 

The serum. Thomas’s serum. 

“The ones we chose to save anyway.” The putrid crank carefully pulls up his sleeve, extending his arm out as he does so making sure Newt sees his arm. His arm is covered in black veins, almost like a web that's been woven together without care or direction spreading anywhere and everywhere. His arm is coated in a thin layer of dirt unlike the rest of his body, as if the flare itself is dirty. Newt's eyes are drawn away from the spider's web before him, up to the needle tip that Janson is waving right in front of his eyes. He smirks maniacally, his eyes wide and dangerous. He creeps the needle tip towards his arm.

…

“DONT YOU FUCKING DARE JANSON” the rage in his gut spreading to his throat, his arms, his legs, his bones and muscles. he wildly pulls against his restraints as if will stop the cruel crank, Janson taunts him by dragging out the process for as long as possible. Inching closer and closer and every centimetre he gets he somehow gets even slower, all the while Newt is screaming profanities at the top of his lungs. His throat burns as he screams. Somehow, Janson knows Thomas is infected and he's determined to remind Newt of this fact. How dare he taunt him?! Years and years of suffering, watching gladers die gruesome deaths and hearing their god awful screams knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do to save them. He can't let Thomas die, not now! He's the reason they got out of that maze, he saved his best friends' lives and gave him freedom, hope. For ONCE in his life he felt something other than complete hopelessness the day Thomas killed that griever. Newt finally had something to run for, to push for. Thomas made him believe in a future. He fought almost every battle he could, escaping the maze, fleeing from wicked, making it to the right arm, finding minho. He has one final job to do and that is to save thomas. the one thing he has left to fight for is JUST out of his reach, if he could just MOVE HIS GODDAMN HANDS-

SMASH

Janson falls to the floor in a spray of glass, his head thumping against the hospital floor. Teresa stood behind him breathing heavily, she quickly snatches the syringe off the floor before removing Newts restraints. Relief floods through Newt's body and he fights to shake from the nonstop adrenaline that he believes may never stop coursing through him after this night. Teresa mumbles something that doesn't reach Newt's ears while she struggles with a buckle, Newt desperately trying to assist her wriggles his way up and away from the leather. Teresa removes the restraint before the crank whose head is dripping with blood grabs Teresa by the hair and throws her across the room with an inhumane amount of strength, Teresa slides across a table of medical equipment before falling onto the cold ground. “TERESA” Newt screeches before using his bandaged hand to try undo the rest of his body, he fights a whine at the back of his throat at the pain that boils under his palm as he does. He struggles to ignore the fact that his once white bandages are becoming crimson and sticky.   

Newt blocks out the screaming and fighting not even a metre away, only focusing on the buckles. Eventually he frees himself and he hears a loud THUNK and a lack of high pitched screams, Teresa's limp body crumples to the floor, her eyes shut tightly. A machete shines under the fluorescent hospital light, his machete. Jansons' eyes notice quicker and he's already snatched it, his teeth bared wildly. Newts runs and pounces at Janson, both bodies flying out the door of the hospital room and into an equally bright hallway. Newt and Janson tumble around on the ground, punches thrown and kicks landing into stomachs and faces. Janson barely uses the blade, only slicing Newt hesitantly across his shoulder blade and arm, clearly having no clue how to wield the blade. Fucking pathetic. If the machete were in Newt's hand however? Janson would've been dead already. If it weren't for Jansons flare enhanced strength Newt would have overpowered his pen pusher body by now, machete or not.

Janson manages to deliver a heavy blow to the side of Newt's head, the world spins and darkens for a moment. He stumbles to the ground, trying to reel his consciousness back to him. The crank straddles him with the machete to his neck, pressing down slightly blood drips from Newt's neck. The cut is nowhere near deep, in fact Newt barely feels the small cut. “He was never supposed to be in the maze!” Janson spat, Newt has a firm grip on Jansons wrist keeping the machete from getting any deeper than a paper cut. “But he just had to go after you and all your little friends didn't he? So brave so.. Caring” the end of his sentence reeks of sarcastic sweetness, Newts grip gets impossibly tighter as he attempts to push Janson away to no avail. “The one thing Ava did right was making you The Glue, so desperate. Putting his life above your own? Their lives above your own?” Newt tries to kick up with his feet and push Jansons body off with his core, he squirms around desperately trying to get out from underneath the vile crank. 

BANG 

Janson drops the machete, his arm goes limp for a moment. Newt seizes the opportunity and pushes Janson off him and snatches the machete off the floor and scrambles up to his feet, blood pumping in his ears. He looks up to find Teresa holding a small pistol, eyes wide looking down at Janson. More specifically his shoulder which is now seeping with blood. Her body is stiff and unwavering, her hair tangled around the back from Jansons cruel fingers. Her breaths are quick and shallow, her bottom lip quivering. 

“We need to go-!” Newt's authoritarian tone is cut short by bombs that make the floor shake and cause both him and Teresa to fall to the ground, Janson who was on his hands and knees attempting to stand falls flat on his stomach. Smoke and ash fill his lungs and burn his eyes, the light above flickering on and off, wires spark with electricity bouncing off the ceiling and walls. The pistol that Teresa held moments ago flies from her hands as she falls, landing right next to Jansons body ready for the taking when he eventually stands his ground. 

Newt somehow gains his footing despite being in a much weaker state than Teresa, grabbing the back of her white coat insisting they need to move. Without hesitation she too scrambles to her feet as they run down the hallway, his body mimicking a rusty doll in need of oil as he moves, every step becoming more and more agonising. Bullets spray down the hallway just before they duck into the next, his bum leg getting weaker by the second. “In here!!” Teresa shrieks, pulling Newt through two glass double doors that move apart on their own. They stumble into a large what seems to be a testing room..? The right wall lined with thick glass and well past the gone crank inside, banging on the glass in ripped up dirty hospital gowns. The back wall and centre of the room filled with small tables with medical equipment and the largest object in the room being a large cylinder machine Newt couldn't even fathom the name of. Newts bum leg drips.. Drips? 

Newt looks down to find a gunshot wound embedded into his right thigh. 

His breath hitches at the sight, he collapses to the floor almost hitting his head against a metal cabinet before Teresa grabs him and lowers him to the ground. Teresa brows furrowed in concentration immediately, she scrambles through cabinets and seconds later she finds what she's looking for. A long white cloth and small scalpel. SCALPEL?? Newt's eyes widen in shock and he considers scrambling away from her even though she's a trained doctor. “I'm not cutting you, I need something for the tourniquet.” right. Newt remembers Jorge showing him how to tie one of those a few times, you need something to put in it to act as a “torsion device” Newt's body settles significantly and she allows Teresa to cut off his pant leg and wrap the cloth around his now scarlet soaked leg. Her fingers and arms work quickly, she's mumbling steps to herself throughout the quick and painful process. Newt hisses in pain as she tightens the cloth, “sorry, if it hurts-” “that means it's working, i know-” - he hisses and scrunches his eyes closed - “Jorge told me.” 

Teresa finishes the tourniquet and takes the now cut off pant leg and starts to instruct Newt to press down on the wound, as if he hasn't done that already tonight before the sound of the glass doors opening once more interrupts her. Heavy footsteps walk ever so slowly into the room, Janson calls out for teresa. Teresa quickly leaves Newt's side and scrambles behind the desk, Janson goes on a long winding speech about the girl and her betrayals. Newts mind drifts away from the sounds of teresa shifting around the room and jansons taunting, he barely notices when his own body shifts to get away from the cranks watchful eye. Newt is only thinking about two things, how dry Thomas's blood is on Newt's hands. it coats his palms and fingers, the way it trapped itself underneath his dirty nails. How much time does Thomas have left? Does he have any time left at all? Or has his heart come to a steady stop along with Newt's ability to think about anything other than survival? 

The second thing being how Jansons undeserving body receives blood from his icy heart every second that passes, every heavy footstep being assisted by his flare infested brain that is undeserving of the ash tainted air. How is Janson allowed to walk while so many boys lay dead in the deadheads? How is Janson allowed to breathe while Albys lungs receive no such sensation and never will again? How is Janson allowed to point a gun towards someone else while Winston willingly turned on to himself? So many deaths and screams haunt his mind, will his mind ever quiet again? Or will he forever be forced to hear their screams whenever he breathes? 

Oh.. the world is escaping him now, everything is focusing and unfocusing as if he was taking glasses on and off again. What is that sound? White noise buzzes almost inside his head, his brain shaking for blood. “Don't you have enough blood on your hands already?!” Janson calls out, oh his talking to him. Who else would he be talking to? Newt realises that his hands are shaking violently, how long have they been doing that for? “Your little friend Thomas might not have been able to shoot her.. But I can!” Newt senses are impossibly heightened so much so he can hear the gun rattle in Jansons palms, 

Newt looks towards Janson, black veins pulsing up his neck.. His neck. Newt looks down at his machete which is covered in now half dried blood, his own blood. The machete shimmers under the flickering lights calling to him, the handle almost slips itself into Newt's hand as he wobbles to stand. “JANSON!!” he screams, tumbling towards the crank. Janson turns to point the gun towards the blonde but is much too slow because by the time his pupils almost disappear in shock at Newt's raised arm it's too late for him. Newts arm and shoulder muscles tighten as he slashes his machete across Jansons throat, the blade swipes effortlessly into his flesh, unlike Janson Newts slash is not hesitant or unpracticed. The gun that once shook in the cranks palms drops to the floor as he claws at his throat, blood dripping from his mouth as he falls to the floor choking on crimson. 

Once Janson drops to the floor all the strength newt gathered deep within his bones all slips away from him, Teresa grabs his arm and helps him hobble out of the room with her. Any and all tension snaps, Newt in this moment feels no hatred towards her because in this moment they both want the same things, to survive this nightmare along with thomas. Wires all around them blow and light up with electricity, the halls reek of ash and gunpowder as they stumble towards a stairwell. Teresa’s voice orders him to move in certain directions and he does what he's told with no argument, they enter a stairwell, the stairs leading down boom in fire. Teresa leads them up the stairs, Newt desperately trying to take some of his weight off her shoulders. 

They climb and climb until Teresa uses her free hand to open a door taking them onto the roof, everything around them burns violently, the sheer brightness burns into newts eyes. Teresa turns back around to go back into the stair well before that too, explodes in bright fire. Newt can almost see the hopelessness radiating off of her, her mind finally coming to a stop and realising it over, their done. Dead. They had failed. 

Newt's body finally gives out, crashing to the ground along with Teresa who tries to break his fall. Teresa's chest rises and falls as she gasps for air desperately, the sky starts to slowly swirl together. Teresa reaches into her pocket and hands Newt the syringe he came back for. “I knew you would come back.” she said, her tone impossibly soft as if the world was not on fire. “I knew you would help me.” Newt responds in the same manner, in this moment, in this fire, Newt cannot hate the girl that holds her. He will never forgive her but he cannot hate her. “I- i dont want to die Teresa.” The words escape his chapped lips and his fogged brain before he has the chance to bite his tongue, he struggles to speak with the ash in his lungs. He knew the likelihood of his return ending in his death, but now that he is faced with it burning all around him he's never felt such despair in his life. Even in death he couldn't keep his promise. “Me neither.” her voice tremors now, another understanding. Her tone is ridden with guilt, not the same guilt Newt carries in his chest but guilt all the same. 

White noise blares in his ears, the noise gets closer and closer.. Teresa turns to look in front of them, Newt turns also to see that the noise is the berg. The berg!! “C’MON!!” Teresa commands, lifting Newt to his feet, practically dragging him to the edge of the building. Newt holds the syringe impossibly tight in his hands, his eyes fighting to stay open as he searches for Thomas in the berg. His bones heavy and tired attempt to put up one final fight, his body searches for one final push of adrenaline to get him and Teresa onto the berg. The berg is so close yet so far, Newt's hand grazes Vince's before falling once more. “YOU HAVE TO GET CLOSER” Teresa shouts, gally shouts something along those lines to the pilot who Newt can only assume to be Jorge. The berg swings back and forth, building around them crumbling down. Teresa holds onto Newt and pushes him to the berg with one big push, Newt feels hands grip his upper arms pulling him onto the ship. 

Newt looks around the ship, his eyes landing on Thomas only a few steps away. Steps his legs cannot take him. Everyone around him is shouting out to Teresa, part of Newt wants to help her but he has a promise to keep. So he crawls, his bad leg weighs him down as his arms fight to pull his body along. His tourniquet slowly becomes looser as he crawls across the floor, leaving a trail of blood as he moves. He's not far now, PUSH GODDAMNIT his brain screams. Newt considers injecting it into Thomas’s palm just to get the serum in him faster but decides against it, refusing to risk the one and only vial they have. His arms shake as he pulls himself one final time before injecting the serum into Thomas's upper arm with a firm click. He did it. It's over. He kept his promise. Minho and Thomas are alive. 

His vision swirls once the blue liquid finally empties out of the syringe in what has got to be the longest 5 seconds of his life, his body goes limp as he lets his arm fall. His brain slowly flips into unconsciousness as the berg rumbles with an upward descent, he faintly heard feet rushing towards him and barely feels minho flip him onto his back. “STAY WI-” the rest of Minho’s words are unheard as white noise becomes the only sound in the world, faces and arms crowd his vision and body, fingers and hands touching all his injuries that were well worth it in Newt's mind. Newt turns his head to see Thomas’s face that is now soft and calm in a peaceful sleep as his chest rises and falls, the black veins slowly becoming less visible. He’d truly done it. He saved Thomas.

That's Newt's final thought before his vision finally escapes him. 

-

It's been almost 2 days since Newt woke up in the safe haven, and for the past 2 days he has had doctors speak to him, getting his vitals taken, being forced to eat and drink, being banned from walking without a cane as if he's an old man, has had his bandages changed and he's not seen a single person he knows. Doctors have asked him his pain level, how he's feeling, how he’s coping, and he has barely said a word to them. Newt could speak, if he wanted to. Doctors speak about him as if he's not there, they say he's in shock. The past 2 days have not felt like days, everything blurs together in one big jumble of memories. Everything seems so distant, even the present moment he's in now, which is another one of these doctors attempting conversation. 

“You have been in the safe haven for 2 days, did you know that?” the doctor says. Yes I did, I have heard this countless times. Newt shrugs and refuses to look at said doctor, he just wants to see someone, anyone he knows. “Is Tommy ok?” he asks for about the billionth time, one of his few repeated phrases. “When can I see him? Or anyone?” the doctor sighs, as if Newt is forcing him to be there before he says “speaking of that.. One of my colleagues informed your friends about your condition so they should-” 

The doctor is interrupted by Minho, Brenda, Frypan and Gally all crashing into the room at once. “NEWT!!” Minho practically screams, running over and pulling him into the world's tightest hug. The doctor stands and leaves the room smiling happily to himself. Newt's body floods with happiness for the first time in 48 hours as he hugs him back weakly, his face buried into his neck. He feels Brenda hugging him from behind, her chin resting on his shoulder. “Hurry up! I wanna get in there!” Frypan ushers Minho away after a minute or two before clapping both his hands on both of Newt's shoulders “how you doing?” he asks warmly “much better now!” Newt exclaims, his lips curve into a wide smile. He feels giddy, giddy like a kid on Christmas finally getting the toy they begged for. “Hey dude.” gally says, his arms crossed with a slight smile. “Hey man!” he says, refusing the impossible urge to squeal in pure excitement, for once in 2 long days he finally feels present in a moment, the past 48 hours a mere sad blur that no longer exists in his mind. 

Then he realises, someone is missing. “Minho,” - Newt turns to face him and takes a deep breath - “is Tommy ok?” Minho’s smile turns into a cheeky grin before saying “about that..” he steps towards the door, pulling it open and reaches his arm to the side, tugging on something. “TADA!!” Minho pulls Thomas in the room by his shirt, Thomas’s eyes widen in shock at Newts state, Newts eyes widen as his eyes drift to Thomas's stomach. No knife, no blood. He's really ok. Newt feels Brenda's arms slip away from him and he hears her ushering everyone except Thomas out of the room. Newt and Thomas both pause for a moment, Their eyes locking in pure disbelief before Thomas practically sprints over and pulls Newt into the softest hug possible. Newt's body relaxes significantly, his forehead resting on Thomas's shoulder while one of his hands cups Thomas's face. “It worked, it actually worked” he whispers, his eyes filled with tears that threaten to spill. “That was the longest two days of my life” Thomas whispers back with a twinge of humour, Newt laughs, his gut fluttering at the sound of Thomas's voice and his reciprocated laughter. 

Thomas pulls back slightly, his eyes almost droopy as he smiles looking into Newt's eyes. His gaze drifts to Newt's cheeks and his eyes widen significantly, his smile dropping. Thomas goes to speak, his brows furrowed before Newt promptly interrupts him. “I won't hear none of that, ya hear me? It's only a couple stitches tommy.” “Only?!” Newt scooches over allowing Thomas to sit down, after taking his shoes off. He sits with his legs crossed on the surprisingly large hospital cot. “That's nothing! i’ve got a high pain tolerance, barely felt a thing. Don't you worry your pretty head about it.” Newt teases, tapping Thomas's temple Thomas keeps his hands in his lap, fidgeting with his fingers. 

“Well go on then.” Newt folds after a few seconds, allowing Thomas to cradle his face and examine his wounds. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows down what Newt can only assume to be the apologies swirling in his brain. “What did I just say?” Newt scolds.

“Is there anymore? I heard you got.. Shot.” Thomas ignores Newt's playful scolding, his doe eyes full of worry. Newt doesn't know how to answer, he doesn't want to lie to Thomas but he knows that if he tells the truth.. oh yeah and I also got a few stitches on my arm, shoulder and hand too! My gunshot wound nearly killed me by the way! Thomas would never forgive himself. He's always so goddamn forgiving but the moment something happens that's not even his fault that he's remotely tied to he makes it his mission to flip the situation and pin the blame on himself, he won't understand that the wounds were well worth it, he won't understand that Newt would have rather died than not at least try to save him- 

“Newt? You ok?” Thomas says softly, cupping the side of his face with one hand now, being gentle as to not touch his stitches because of course he does. “You sort of zoned out there” Thomas, who is the loudest, bravest and the biggest “act now think later” person in the whole entire world is somehow changes into the most caring and tender person ever whenever he's around Newt and it always makes Newt crumble into tiny little pieces, he couldn't lie to him right now even if he tried. “Yeah.. i did uhm- get shot.. Don't freak-” 

“WHAT??”

“I knew you would do that!!” 

“do what?!” 

“act like the biggest shuckfaced idiot that's ever stepped foot on the bloody planet that's what!!” 

“You got shot because of me!”

“I didn't get shot because of you, I got shot FOR you!!” 

“...”

“Love. When you..” - Newt takes a deep breath before continuing - “passed out, i don't know if you heard but i.. ran back to the tower-” 

“YOU WHAT??”

“Don't interrupt!” 

“...”

“You were dying Tommy. I had to go back! You don't know what you looked like.. What I saw. Long story short me and Janson got in a fight and I got a couple cuts” - Newt pulls his collar down to expose his bandages, afterwards pulling up his sleeve to show the bandaged cut on his upper arm. Thomas’s eyes got wider and glasser the more he spoke - “and yes I got shot. But it was worth it tommy! You lived.. That's all I wanted.” - Newt takes Thomas's hand in his, rubbing the back of his knuckles. - “Ok?” Newt's throat tightens at his last word, making his word wobble despite his tone being steady recounting the tale.

Thomas pauses for a moment, he opens his mouth as if he wants to protest but quickly closes it. He presses his lips into a thin line while squeezing Newt’s hand. “Thank you, for saving me.” He mumbles, barely audible. If Newt wasn't so close and the room wasn't so quiet he wouldn't have been able to hear the low whisper. Newt doesn't think saying your welcome is exactly appropriate so instead, he squeezes Thomas's hand for a moment before smiling warmly his way. Plump lips smile back at Newt, Thomas’s head tilting to the side ever so slightly as he smiles in a way that makes Newt's face glow with warmth. Newt doesn't realise he's staring at Thomas's lips until Thomas reciprocates the action, they both pause for a moment before Thomas leans in and gently kisses him.

He tastes like toothpaste and saltwater. Newt keeps his hand in Thomas’s, Thomas’s hands have always been so soft, so warm. Newt places his other hand on Thomas's shoulder, Newt's gut swirls when Thomas's hums against his lips, the vibration sending shivers down his spine. Newt's hand makes its way from his shoulder to the back of Thomas's head, pushing Thomas closer in an attempt to deepen the kiss before the brunette pulls away. “What was that for?!” Newt asked, displeased, with no real anger behind his words. “First of all, we're in a hospital room.” - Thomas kisses the corner of Newt's mouth before continuing in a whisper - “Second of all, you're recovering. So maybe not now, mkay?” “you Thomas are a bloody tease” 

“uh oh ‘Thomas’ should i be worried?” Thomas replied sarcastically, only a few inches from Newt's face. “Yeah, maybe you should be” Newt spoke in the same manner, attempting to kiss Thomas again before Thomas lightly pushed him back before exclaiming 

“what did i just say!” 

“finee.” Newt pouted in pretend annoyance before they both broke out into a fit of laughter, Newt’s cheeks slowly began to ache from all the smiling. 

-

Its officially been a week since Newt arrived in the safe haven and today is finally the day he is getting discharged from the makeshift hospital they have set up, over the past 5 days Thomas, Minho, Brenda, Frypan and Gally all came by to visit often, Thomas and Minho the most by far. Thomas visited at least once a day, sometimes multiple if he wasn't busy. Constantly asking how he was doing, telling Newt about about the safe haven and how Frypans “still got it”, Thomas tells Newt about the fields and spots he wants to take him, about the hut he's been assigned and how nice it is to sleep in a bed instead of sleeping bags, Newt listens intently as he talks about his slow lazy days since Thomas is still recovering from his knife wound. But those days are finally over because Thomas is on his way to help Newt hobble out of the hospital doors insisting he wants to help, despite the fact Newt has a cane. Newt is beyond ecstatic to get out of the dingy hospital room and move in with Thomas, they both agreed on that since they haven't slept apart for almost 6 months anyway so why change now? 

Newt sat impatiently on top of his hospital bed, cane in his lap as he fiddled with the corner of the blanket waiting for Thomas to get there. His heart beat thumping in his ears like a clock, ticking by as the seconds pass. He can't help but wonder if walking is going to be harder now, he's barely stood up for more then a minute or two so how is he going to do walking longer distances? … the sand is a whole different ball game. Newt would rather walk in the sand than stay in the hospital another night though. 

As if on cue the door swings open and Thomas stands there grinning from ear to ear boyishly. Thomas walks over and extends his hand out, bowing as if Newt is a king or something. Newt rolls his eyes while Thomas laughs, but accepts Thomas's hand gratefully despite the sarcasm. Newt slowly stands to his feet unable to suppress the hiss that escapes his lips, his eyes scrunching as pain shoots through his whole leg. His fingers that are now interlocked with Thomas's squeeze significantly tighter, leaning slightly against Thomas's arm to keep him upright. 

“Are you sure you're ready to-?” “Tommy, I would rather get shot again then stay here for one more bloody night.” Thomas’s eyes flick upwards immediately to make eye contact with Newt, his eyes widening in shock. “I'm joking! but please for the love of god get me out of here.” His eyes soften once more when Newt responds, they both slowly but surely begin to walk towards the doors of the makeshift hospital. Every step Newt limps and occasionally having to fight back a wince, he can't help but be reminded of when he first broke his leg and Minho and Alby had to help him walk around similarly to how Thomas is now. Eventually they make it to the rickety door made out of wood and sticks, Thomas uses his free hand to open the door and Newt gasps at the sight.

Newt has yet to see the safe haven until now, he heard waves occasionally but he didn't expect the water to be so bright, the way the sun bounces off the crystal blue water almost makes it look like a large gem. In the distance there is a large cliff covered in grass and flowers, in fact the whole safe haven besides the beach is covered in bright, healthy green grass. The sun doesn't burn Newt's shoulders or arms either, it's warm and calming. There's a large unlit bonfire in the distance along with a large stone which appears to have carvings on it, surrounding the bonfire there is small wooden structures with beams and steps for people to sit at and hammocks are set up underneath roofs, a large communal kitchen which Frypan is stationed at as well. There's people of all ages sitting, walking, running, laughing, talking or just sitting in silence enjoying the peace. Newt lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding when Thomas squeezes his hand to bring him back to the present.

“It's so.. Calm?” His words come out as a question instead of a statement, Newt didn't mean to sound curious but the truth is he is curious. How do they keep order? How do they keep things running around here? “The others were shocked too, speaking of them you want to get dinner?” Newt's stomach growled at the suggestion, his eyebrows raised. Thomas doesn't move and simply waits for Newt's response. “Well c'mon then! I'm not getting there on my own!” he says playfully before attempting to speed up his walking despite Thomas's protests, Eventually Newt's leg refuses to get with the program and they are forced to a leisurely pace towards the unlit bonfire hand in hand. The gentle breeze lifting any heaviness left in his chest, the sound of grass under his shoes keeping him in the present instead of the past full of sand and hatred. 

The sky above is mixed with oranges, pinks and gentle clouds as the sun slowly begins to set, the air slowly getting colder as the afternoon turns to night. As time passes by people with unknown voices and faces to match dwindle away to hammocks or huts if owned, and all the remains are the few gladers that remain paired with clinking of utensils and fits of laughter. Even Gally joining in on the smiles and giggles, sweet tasting alcohol Newt can't be bothered to ask the name of eventually being passed around. Maybe one day in the future, nearby or distant they will speak of the scorch and wicked but not tonight. Tonight is for stars and laughter that bubbles in his chest and makes Newt’s face hurt, tonight is for joy. 

Newt is sitting with his crappy leg elevated by a small log. Thomas insisted on running around for five minutes trying to find it, lifting Newt's leg and placing it on top of the log saying “it helps with swelling!” Newt found the sight of slightly tipsy Thomas running around in the grass to find the log very endearing, repressing a fit of giggles when Thomas threw his hands in the air and whooped in excitement at the find. Newt's other leg is pressed against his chest, his arms hugging around it. Frypan grins to himself as he collects everyone except Gallys cleared plates, Gally still working on his meal scoffing down his food. “Fry you gotta step up your game man!” He exclaims between mouthfuls. “Oh really? So you wouldn’t mind if I-“ - Frypan goes to take Gally half eaten plate of food before Gally swats away his hand with a scowl. - “that’s what I thought!” He beams with a sarcastic grin “Fuck off man!” gally attempts to sound harsh, the slight grin on his face making it clear he’s not mad. Frypan walks away, plates and cups stacked skilfully, he laughs the whole way back to the kitchen before he’s too far away to hear. 

Minutes later Gally licks his plate clean before walking off to the kitchen, “I forgot what actual food tastes like, that shit we had in the scorch was driving me nuts!” Minho’s voice slicing through the silence, the bright fire warming Newt’s sore body. “If that ain't the buggin’ truth.” Newt replied with much less enthusiasm, his voice dipping into soft silence. a comfortable wave of exhaustion crashing down onto him. Soon Gally and Frypan made their way back and everyone drifted back into comfortable conversation and laughter, the warmth of the fire and eventually Thomas's arm wrapped around him made Newt's eyes feel heavy and body like jelly, sinking into feeling his eyes threatening to pull him away from the magical night. The voices of the people he cared about most dearly all mixed together into one beautiful unintelligible chorus as consciousness escaped him, except tonight he knew that no matter what, when he woke, he would be safe. No more cranks or running from wicked, only Thomas's arms and friends' laughter made him wish not to sleep. 

Newt drifted from half consciousness to being asleep and back again over the course of 30 minutes, an hour? He couldn't tell anymore. Newt feels Thomas's breath on his ear, his lips less than a inch away as he whispers “hey hun, we gotta get up c'mon.” Newt groans in response, not wanting to wake up yet, he pulls his eyes open to find the sky has turned to darkness covered in bright stars. The fire dwindled, barely illuminating any light. In the distance Newt can see Minho’s slightly wider build compared to when they found him at wicked walking off, his legs more steady and sure. Newt's body felt heavy, his brain fogged with exhaustion. “I don't think i could stand even if I wanted to Tommy” his lips tugging upwards into a tired smile, trying to avoid the inevitable. 

“Then I'll carry you!” 

“What?!” 

“Cmon! Up you get!” Thomas is crouched now, one arm hooked under Newt's legs, the other hooked around his upper body attempting to lift him. Newt shrieked and tried to wriggle out of Thomas's grip to no avail, “I was joking!! Put. me. DOWN-!” Thomas quickly stands and spins around in circles quickly, Newt's cries of fear paired with Thomas's laughter. Eventually Newts screams twist into laughter and shrieks of joy, the world whirling in repeating blurred twists. “Ok ok i'm awake now!” Newt insists between happy cries, Thomas slowly stops spinning and puts Newt down. Newt attempts to walk back to where he was sitting moments earlier to retrieve his now discarded cane, forgetting momentarily about his.. Predicament. The world still wobbly combined with his already crappy leg with assistance, his walking mirroring a drunk he almost tumbles over until Thomas hooks his arm with Newts. They attempt to walk together, giggling as they still stumble despite the assistance of eachothers arms. 

Newt attempts to crouch down to grab his cane, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth in pain. Thomas waves him off and picks it up for him, placing it in Newt's free hand. “What would you ever do without me?” he teases, his eyes crease as he grins. “Oh bugger off!” Newt exclaims, whacking Thomas in the shins with the stick. Thomas pretends to wince in agony despite the fact the tap was nothing but light before exclaiming back “how you have wounded me Newton! How dare you strike me-! OW-” this time his cries of pain are real, Newt whacks him in the leg again except harder this time. “Just because I have an old man cane doesn't mean I bloody hit like one!” Now it's Newts turn to tease, Thomas rolls his eyes as dramatically as humanly possible before interlocking his fingers with Newts, allowing their hands to fall by their sides as they walk to their hut. 

-

Newt woke up to the sounds of quick and loud breathing that was not his own, unlike Newt who was laying on his side facing the brunette Thomas was laying on his back with his hands clenched tightly into fists breathing rapidly. Thomas always has had nightmares, he doesn't toss and turn or scream he just wakes up in a cold sweat unable to fall back asleep. As weeks pass his nightmares have become more and more frequent and intense, Newt rolls onto his stomach towards Thomas careful not to suddenly touch him so as to not scare him out of sleep, he slowly raises his hands to Thomas’s face cupping it softly, his touch feather light. 

His thumbs graze across his cheekbones in an attempt to coax him back to sleep, he reassures quietly that he's okay even though Thomas can't hear him. Sometimes, this works and Thomas falls back into a deep sleep but clearly tonight is not his night because Thomas's eyes flick open, his pupils jumping from side to side. His breathing and the rising and falling of his chest slowly return to normal before his dark eyes land on Newt's hazel ones, his lips part as he begins to speak before Newt's voice cuts him off promptly.

“Dont.”

“Why not?”

“There's nothing to be sorry for!” 

“I woke you up-!”

“I. Don't. Care. You. Dumb. Shank. how many times do I have to say it!” Newt whisper scolds him, holding his face tighter to somehow emphasise his point. They lay in this position for a moment, looking into eachothers eyes seeing who will crack first. Thomas knows Newt will win this argument because he always does, despite this he still continues to stare for a moment before pressing his lips into a tight line. 

“I'll get you one day.” Thomas teases with a cheeky grin, Newt hums sarcastically back before Thomas rolls his eyes. Thomas wraps his arms around Newt's waist and pulls him closer, Newt obliged happily, shuffling closer so his face was in the crook of Thomas's neck, his fingers intertwined in brunette hair. The world is yet to wake, a lack of birds chirping and people speaking signifying its nowhere near close to breakfast. The sky is yet to rise as the sky is a pale blue, almost grey. A soft light blankets them through the window next to their cot which is pushed against the right wall, Newt scratches Thomas's scalp, willing him to drift back into dreams. Soft waves crashing nearby accompany the sound of their out of time breathes, Newt smiles to himself at the thought of the water against his legs and the sand between his toes. He's never swam at the beach before, he's cleared to do so if the water is calm since he doesn't have too much trouble walking on his own for short periods of time. 

“I reckon there will be a beach or lake, wouldn't that be nice? I'll teach you to swim Tommy, I'll teach ya’ to swim. That's a promise love-”

The memory bounces in his brain, he still remembers the stickiness of blood in between his fingers and the smell of gunpowder that night. His once heavy bones and sleepy eyes come back to life at the realisation that he hasn't followed through on the promise he made. He pauses and listens to Thomas's breathing, his breathing is steady but not deep. Newt kisses the underside of Thomas’s jaw before questioning quietly 

“Tommy, you ‘sleep yet?” Newt can almost feel the smile radiating off the brunette once Newt kisses him. 

“Not yet, why?” Newt props himself up onto his elbows, moving away slightly. Thomas frowns at the loss of body heat and looks up at Newt with a raised brow. 

“I told you I was gonna teach ya to swim. C’mon, Up you get!” Newt announces, his voice picking up from a whisper to its normal volume. 

“Huh??” Thomas questions, making no effort to fight when Newt grabs him by the hands to pull him to his feet. Newt begins to rummage around in their large chest drawer, pulls out two pairs of trunks and throws one to Thomas. 

“You might not remember..” Newt started, turning around to face the shorter boy. When the promise was made Thomas was.. Not in a good state but there's a high chance he doesn't even remember, but Newt is a man of his word goddamnit! This boy will learn how to swim! It's not like he's going to fall back asleep anyway. Plus, they live on an island knowing how to swim would most probably be useful! Plus Newt gets to see Thomas in board shorts so that's a plus. 

“Right before you passed out.. I said I was going to teach you to swim.” he finished, his voice going sombre for a moment at the memory. Thomas looks away for a moment, searching for the memory before his eyes snap back to Newt once he remembers. Newt bites his tongue at the memory, he pauses for a moment before beginning to say “we don't have to-”

“No! No. it's a nice idea babe.” Thomas interrupts, and smiles genuinely. Newt can't help but smile back, any embarrassment or guilt pouring out of him at the sight. 

Twenty minutes later Newt and Thomas were hand in hand walking across the sand of the beach, their free arms draped with one towel each. Despite the fact Newt could have walked the distance between their hut and the beach just fine on his own, Thomas insisted on holding his hand “just in case” just as he does every other time he gets the chance. “Are you sure you’ll be ok?” Thomas asks for about the third time in the 5 minutes it took to make it to the sandy part of the island.

“Yes! Now hurry up before I push ya in!” Newt drops his towel to the ground and drags Thomas into the water, Thomas steps in hesitantly. Newt takes both of Thomas’s hands and walks backwards into the water, eventually they make it to a small part where it's deep enough so Newt can stand but Thomas, since he's a bit shorter, can practise swimming on his own. Newt gently explains the basics, how to keep yourself up right, how to swim around and take breaths as you do and holds up Thomas during his first few attempts and cheers when Thomas starts to get it. 

Newt feels relief flood his entire body, he did it. They did it. They survived. And now? They get to live. In this moment, the water up to his chest and sand in his hair he realises how grateful he is to be able to live. Not just survive. Hes felt grateful after surviving grievers, cranks, wicked, bombs, fire, gunshots and wounds but this? This is another type of gratitude. He's not just grateful for his heart that pumps blood through his veins and the bones in his body remaining unbroken, hes grateful to wake up to sunrises and watch sunsets, hes grateful to watch gally start to smile a bit more and scowl a little less, hes grateful to watch Minho's scars fade and notice how his collar bones no longer stick out. He's grateful for being able to hum to himself as he washes his mostly clean hair, he's grateful for books and flowers and good food, this feeling is strange and new but oh so welcomed. 

There are hard days, very very hard days filled with tears and shouting everything being a reminder of everything horrible but that's just it. It's all just a reminder. And those hard days are so worth it to experience all the good ones. All the good days filled with warmth and laughing and slow kisses because now he, no. Everyone has all the time in the world. Newt watches as Thomas becomes entranced with something, Newt feels the warmth of the sunrise on his back and he realises Thomas is looking at him. Newt stares back at him, he too becomes entranced with the other. 

Newts eyes trail across Thomas’s body and face, the way the sun bounces off his skin and how as the weeks have passed Thomas's has gained more and more freckles, how water has pulled strands of rich chocolate hair in front of his eyes, the way Thomas’s eyes swirl with a pure devotion Newt only understands because he feels the same unwavering, permanent devotion in his chest too. Newt holds his hand up to cup Thomas’s now wet face, he leans into the touch and Newt feels like he could dissolve into the ocean at the sight. Both boys close the distance at the same time, Thomas’s lips coated in saltwater and freedom.

They have all the time in the world.

Authors note: ITS DONE. IT IS FINALLY DONE. I BET ON LOSING DOGS IS OFFICALLY DONE. I'm actually so proud of this fic and i just want to say thank you to everyone who stuck around since the very first chapter and have supported me throughout this. this story is literally my baby. this is the longest fic i have written and have actually FINISHED and its an honor to be able to share it with all of you. i could not have done it without all of your support and encouragement. :)

also THREE FICS IN LESS THEN 2 DAYS??? damn yall are spoilt ROTTEN!! (happy to spoil yall hehehehehehehehe 😚)

FIRST CHAPTER - NEXT - PREVIOUS

[monayen]

I love the madness going on here but it feels like we’re on a slippery slope with this milk stuff 💀

BUT hear me out… this lends itself so well to a cow person reader. the anime kind with cow print bikini, a headband with small horns and a bell around the neck. iykwim 👀

(pologies’ if you don’t like lactation kink in this saga… mama has to feed those hungry ratmen somehow !! to make it clear, no babies are involved in my writing unless it’s a parent/babysitting/au situation. when i’m talking about the ratmen breastfeeding, it’s just magically something the reader can do and the ratmen love it. alrighty !?)

I think the dynamics of a cow person reader and other characters is something I’d like to think about more… But we’ve been talking about the ratmen so I will focus on them here ^0^

The ratman are terrified when they first lay their eyes on you. You basically dwarf them, since a cow person would definitely be bigger in height and not just in *cough* certain areas… so they jump to the conclusion that you’ll try kill them like everyone else

After they learn you won’t kill them, they stare. If you got that classic anime cow person look (bikini and all), they practically wouldn’t be able to wrap their heads around why someone would walk around showing so much skin… let alone a bell around their neck that jingles with every movement

Not that they complain about the outfit… it *flatters* you very well. It can just be awkward at how many times you have to remind them that your eyes are up here! Robert, Ratman 4, and Ratman 5 are basically shameless… but at least Micheal and Ratman 3 will have the decency to do a nervous dart around the room before they lock eyes onto your barely covered chest

They ask a lot of questions. Will your horns grow longer? How often do you shine your pretty bell? Are you cold in that outfit? ‘Cus your nipples are hard!

You definitely make the mistake of revealing too much of your… capabilities. What do you mean you can make your own drink? Is it like beer? Or more a soda? Whatever it is, they definitely are eager to try some

They’ll pester you about it every single day, following you around and asking when can they try some of your drink. It’s enough that you don’t get a lone chance to actually let go of the milk inside you, discomfort quickly settling in

You finally cave in when the pain of the buildup becomes too much, standing over the ratman as you untie the knot of your bikini top, dropping it to the floor as you present your aching chest

They absolutely waste no time scampering to get a taste, their heads pushing together to lick and suck up whatever leaks out of you

Robert picks up that squeezing helps get more milk out, gesturing for Ratman 4 to help knead the soft skin on your chest. Ratman 3 catches the strays, licking up the small trails of milk that manage to drip down onto your navel, while Micheal and 5 take turns fighting over a nipple… teeth are involved and you aren’t the only one that gets bit!

Trust that they’ll never let you get backed up again now that you’re their favorite meal<3

[ashley-foster-13]

Newt x Y/n Imagine

"Hold on, love," Newt cooed, bringing her closer. He was rubbing her shoulder soothingly - too bad it didn't help the pain. "Stay with me."

Y/n trembled in the boy's arms, occasionally whimpering.

They were in the Scorch. A few months ago WICKED had stolen Y/n right from the Maze, when she wad running. They kept running tests on her, one after the other, and still couldn't understand what wad do special about her, her blood in particular.

She wasn't immune to the Flare, yet it didn't destroy her mind nor her body. The veins slowly but firmly transformed into thick dark lines, like spider webs on her skin. She never felt hungry, not for food anyway. Whenever bloodlust would take hold of her, she'd find the nearset concrete wall and hit it until her knuckles bled. That way she was too exhausted to try and rip someone's throat out.

The worst part were her eyes. Pitch black on the outside, they painted the world in black-and-whites for Y/n. There were shadows. High pitched noises coming from nowhere in particular.

Y/n shrieked, causing Thomas and Minho besides her to jump. Newt didn't. He got used to it.

"Hold on, alright? You're gonna be okay," his British accent always calmed her down.

She hated when someone sugarcoated the truth, thought.

"Am I?" she chuckled. So much bitterness for such a short phrase in her voice.

Boys had managed to find and rescue her from WICKED's grip. They had been hoping she'd get better, or at least she'd know what to do.

She didn't, and, as days passed by, her state worsened rapidly.

"I mean, thanks for saving me and all, but you're wasting your time," she croaked through gritten teeth. "If you're smart enough, you'll continue tomorrow without me."

Everyone knew the illness still messed with her, whether she had some sort of immuntiy or not, so her sometimes not-so-gentle remarks didn't quite count as insults.

"Don't say that, Y/n," Thomas protested, "Whatever they've done to you, you're stronger."

Newt slightly nudged you, agreeing with him.

"Yeah, well, if you die here, I give you the permission to haunt every each of us in our sleep as a ghost," said Minho. "You'll sing us lullabies or whatever. But, please, no creepiness."

Y/n snorted, then coughed, almost spitting her insides out.

"First of all, when I die," she corrected, "And secondly, of course I'll do that. Of course I'll sing to you." She smiled at the last words, some cozy faraway memory trying to make its way to her mind but not succeeding. She closed her eyes.

Just for a second, she promised herself. Then, she'll continue suffering her way through the freaking Flare.

"Hey, love, wake up," Newt shook her. When she didn't, he raised his voice, "Wake up!"

Breathe in, breathe out.

"Newt?" she whispered, as if the conversation between them hadn't just happen mere seconds ago.

"You can't sleep, yeah? Stay here," he caressed her cheek with his thumb, noting how dry and cold her skin was.

He was scared.

"Stay here," she echoed, her mind slowly whirling, making lazy attempts to recall... recall what?

Call...She didn't call anyone? Did someone call her?

People called her by the name.

Don't call me, someone's voice murmured in the back of her head.

Call me all you want, but that doesn't change who I am, she once said to...

What did people call him? Ah, Ratman, right.

Left, right. Call. Call, collect, college. Budge, bridge, bomb. Call, cat, cold...

She was cold and going crazy and felt absolutely, utterly helpless.

She so hated WICKED for what they made her become.

She didn't notice how she gripped Newt's arms, how hard she squeezed, digging her nail into his pale skin, until she heard a hiss.

"Y/n?" Thomas creeped closer, in case anyone needed help.

She blinked a few times, returning her focus on the blond boy next to her. Shifting as far away as possible, she frantically spoke, "Sorry. I'm so sorry. Sorry, I didn't..."

"Hey, hey," Newt held up his hands in a calming gesture, "It's alright. C'mere," he wanted to embrace her again, but y/n crawled backwards.

She hurt Newt. She hurt Newt. She hurt...

Panic suddenly came in waves through her body, changing her voice. It didn't sound anyhow familiar to her, "Get away from me!" a desperate scream. She couldn't move much further due to the weakened limbs and horror that forced her to freeze. "I'll hurt you."

She didn't feel the tears running down her face. She felt barely anything these days. Well, apart from torturous pain.

"You won't hurt me," Newt reassured, hugging her still. She tried to break free, but miserably failed.

A few sobs escaped Y/n's lips as she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

"Hey," he started softly, brushing away strands of her hair, "I'm here for you. Cry as much as you need, scream, hit every moving thing, but I'm staying. And I'm not letting go until you're okay. And even after that, I'm not leaving," he added, bringing her closer to his chest.

"Even then?" barely a whisper, but audible enough for Newt to hear.

"Even then." He kissed her temple.

It made Y/n's heart warm. Of course, she knew they'd never leave her to die in a middle of a desert. But hearing that still was important.

She felt safe in Newt's arms.

And since they were doing a great deal of keeping her alive, she had to repay the debt somehow.

Not dying would probably count. And maybe a little revenge on WICKED.

Something minor. Like snapping a head or two of the shoulders of some soldiers. Or better, Janson's and Ava's.

Yes, she definitely had to do that.

So she vowed to heal, to heal as fast as possible and kick some scientist asses...

"I love you," she breathed, looking up at Newt.

"Love you, too." He pressed a kiss on her brow.

...and marry Newt someday.

[scenekitt]

INTRODUCING MY OG PROJECT, "LABRATZ"

I only did fully ref sheets for the protag ( RATMAN ) and the antag ( Tanner ) as of now but in the future I plan to do more ref sheets for the rest of the cast.

ANYWAYS, HERES A BIT OF LORE / SUMMARY:

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Labratz follows a character known as RATMAN, a rat who as turned into a human, and his trusty ( totally not kidnapped ) human sidekick and partner in crime, Megan Zimmerman. RATMAN and Megan are both inventors though Megan has more experience in inventing to which her aid is often crucial to his plans.

After escaping the laboratory RATMAN was created from, he has the ultimate goal of ruling all of the people within the city of Rodentia ( the name of the city he's in ) as well as mankind with the assistance of rodents due to his hatred for the human race.

He wants to create a world where humans are the test subjects and rodents, who are often prey animals, to be the ones on top of the food chain.

However, since he's escaped to a greatly impoverished side of the city, his goals are constantly impaired by human financial issues and RATMAN still has a lot to learn when it comes to human behavior, social norms and customs in general.

On top of all of that, RATMAN's psychotic creator, prof. Tanner Schmidt, has been looking for him ever since he's escaped and will stop at nothing to retrieve his runaway experiment, the only experiment that he deems ' perfect ' in his eyes.

With the help of Tanner's team of scientists and security actively searching for his whereabouts, RATMAN's days are numbered and he is constantly on the move, not wanting to return to the same laboratory in which he was tormented in as a rat.

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TL;DR : Rat becomes human. Rat human runs away from lab. Rat human kidnaps actual human. Human rat man thing and human partner in crime. Creator of the rat human wants the rat human back. Rat human scared, doesn't like >:( Rat human hides away in poor side of town. Rat human can't understand actual human things but tries to.

Huamnhumanhumanhuman humanhmam