#vacation notes

[ririrules60]

A dreadful night

[emacrow]

The High Infinite realm king is missing and all of realities started to blurred in his absence while a Fright knights Quad are looking for their king.

It started during the time of Salam night of Halloween where the veil was at it's thinnest as Halloween Fright Knight was doing his job capturing the evil and dangerous creatures of the night, senting evils ghosts, demons, spirits and ghouls to the nightmare, hellish realm with his sword.

Once his duty was done as he was making sure on his checklist on his scroll because he refused to use those thing call Cell-phone as The rebirth Pharoah suggested to him.

And come back to report his duty was finished to find that The Throne broken and the king missing, and what seem to be ransacked with scorched walls here and there.

His grip on his green scroll loosen as it dropped to the green glowing ground, being stained by the splattered of ecto mixed red blood was on the purple tilted floor.

The High King was missing which mean the Infinite realm has lost it's very core.. which mean realities itself will soon collapse as very dimensions collides instead of staying in their balance places.

Meanwhile metropolis, gotham and even altantian was experience trouble as people were running/swimming and screaming from a the literal rifts and tears of the sky and ground, each having a alternate dimension of some sort.

One having literal pony verison of themselves with unicorns, alicorns and Pegasus.

There was one where serial killer are chasing poor victim and feeding them to some claw like being.

Another with literal hell with fire, demons and dead people screaming in torture.

And many other dimensions started to blurred in the seams like a mismatch blanket being sewed in terribly wrong by a amateur. Ghosts, mythic, supernatural beings, biblically accurate angels and monsters of unholy natures were popping left and right, here and there.

The justice league were in the middle of the meeting with John Constantine who was looking like he saw the very end of his life with how pale he was.

From what John Constantine knows that even every demons, Gods and Goddesses of death themselves were all searching as well for the High Infinite realm king... especially considering he was their boss that keep their dimensions stable and running in the first place. They do not like that some of their subjects were escaping in this particular dimension due to the literal dimension tears.

And what is on everyone's minds was, Where is Danny Phantom?!?

[emgoesmed]

9/24/2024

Making the most of my vacation with a long journaling session at one of my favorite cafes.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I started reading Dungeon Meshi last week, became instantly charmed and captivated, and blitzed through the entire manga in 4 days (and changed my profile picture about it). With that in mind, I would just like to say...

I love your dungeon meshi art so so much

CHILCHUCK!!!!!!!!

Thank you kindly! I love Dungeon Meshi a lot, so I'm happy to see so many people get into it for the first time.

CHILCHUCK!!!

[adobe-outdesign]

btw Pokemon Concierge has the best protag ever

like a twenty something year old who's constantly stressed about her job and is basically Going Through It all the time? they nailed their target demographic with that one

[starry-bi-sky]

Love and hate can sometimes cross wires - DPXDC Ficlet

She props her up against the far wall, and kneels before her, fingers deceptively gentle against her cheek. Danyal is cold and trembling, her once bronze skin now dull. She meets her other half— self— sister— mother— predecessor’s eyes, and they are still wet. But now they are sharp, focused on Her face.

Danyal takes a shuddering breath, one that wracks itself down her spine. One that She can feel sinking into her — their? — shared soul. “You’re going to kill me.” She says, matter of fact, something like grief choking in her voice, making it shake.

She blinks at Her mother—sister—friend— predecessor, a feeling She knows is horror but thinks is hatred filling up Her lungs. Her cool palm trails kind down to her throat, Her talon fingers wrapping around the fragile skin. With very little effort, She could break her little neck. “Yes.” She murmurs, a sound only the two of them can hear. “I am.“

Her mother-sister-other half— predecessor shudders again, and yet makes no sound. Simply goes limp with acceptance in her arms. She doesn’t bother to even fight; she looks tired. Make it quick, it’s like she says.

I will. She promises, running the gentle padding of Her thumb along her jugular. It’s the only mercy She thinks She’ll ever give. But first…

“Give me a name?”

(Mother— sister— mine—) Danyal stares at Her, confusion parting her slowly paling lips. There’s silence between the two, thickening the air like the rise of an oncoming storm. Hurt and rage begins to toil beneath Her skin. Was the thought of naming Her so abhorrent, that she’d rather not say a thing at all? Her name is nothing?

Before She can take Her anger out, Danyal breathes in sharp. The sound is painful, jarring like jags of broken glass. She raises a hand, her palm — rough and calloused, proof of her fourteen years of life, of hardship — finds Her cheek too. It’s almost loving, the way Danyal swipes her thumb across Her skin, her clammy fingers tucking a strand of hair behind Her ear.

An emotion sweeps across her, boiling and toiling, burning hot and consuming her whole. Thick, bubbling in her throat, curling behind her teeth and under her tongue and tinging her peripherals with spots. An overwhelming emotion.

It must be hatred, she thinks. What other feeling can encompass one so much?

When Danyal breathes out, so with it comes a name; “Layal.”

Danyal always did love the nights.

(If you ask the Mother of Monsters why she killed Danyal al Ghul, she’ll tell you it was because she loved hated her.)

[foldingfittedsheets]

I verbally committed to a year with the district manager I met with who rehired me to sell mattresses. It seems achievable and ultimately the game industry will take about that long to really get its feet under it again.

In the meantime I’ll get to beef up my portfolio and look into rigging commissions. There’s a ton of personal projects and continuing education I can do in a year. I’ll get a good paycheck while I work on all those side projects.

But uhhhh. Downside. We get five PTO days a year.

Five.

I get to take five days of vacation in an entire year. That’s 1% of the year.

[rockethorse]

The basegame wedding dress has a pregnancy morph??

[updatingranboo]

small heads up from admin, i will be missing streams for the next few days so apologies if updates are late! i'll be updating on everything i can in the morning, and then by the late afternoon hopefully catching up on anything i missed. make sure to check the end of my pinned post as well for stream times, after stream today i'll be updating to add information on the fnaf week that's starting tomorrow! :D

[rogdona]

[yayll]

IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKE IT!!! Opposites attract are literally my favorite trope ever, i love bad boy unhinged rockstar Dazai and him developing a crush on the cute, considered the industry sweetheart who dresses in frills and bows idol/pop star Reader, and considering that idols change their outfits to support the themes of songs/tours i can imagine they get a matching outfit set one day and its rock style…..idol reader dressed in black and other dark colors, rips in their clothes and some skin showing……Rockstar!Dazai is biting the bars of his encloser-TeenZai anon

so sorry this is so late angel.... also i may have gotten a bit carried away w this concept................ i love u teenzai anon this one's for u and all the rockstar!dazai adorers out there (and for me bc i'm INSANE for this whole thing put me downnn) basically idol reader taking up dazai's rocker aesthetic for the concept/theme of the tour is literally the DEATH of him. and not in the way he's always wishing for >:3

~ a little something about Rockstar!Dazai and Popstar!Reader finding a middle ground ~

You show up to soundcheck one morning completely in tune with the plan for the show but thinking nothing of it, because you're sweet and cool and in perfect flow! Something Dazai simply isn't and it makes him practically gawk as you saunter past him into the dressing room. a few moments later you walk out in a matching outfit that compliments the one he's wearing and it's all over. Completely fucking done. The man practically goes non-verbal for a few moments when he suddenly calls for his assistant to fetch him his pack of cigarettes so he can dash outside to the alley of the venue to get himself together. The nerve of you to look absolutely ravishing in a completely different aesthetic... So hot. So annoying.

Of course you follow behind him, curious and also hoping he's genuinely okay (you're not just a sweetheart for show and he hates that!) You find him leaning against the wall, his lighter failing to give him the flame he needs for his sweet relaxation. All he hears is soft giggling and light footsteps.

"I'll light it."

You take the lighter from him and flawlessly flicker it alive while he just watches you with the stick between his lips, amazed and slightly aroused. He can't help but notice the way his nerves seem to immediately settle with you nearby and it both comforts and concerns him. Dazai looks down at your face as you lean forward with the lighter, a tiny moment of softness appearing in his eyes as he watches you light the end of his cigarette, the flame from the lighter making his Hazelnut eyes light up slightly. He quickly takes in a long and deep drag, his shoulders visibly immediately relaxing once the smoke hits his lungs, and his cool guy demeanor is back on. You chime in, poking your head back into his line of sight.

"Better?"

You smile at him sweetly, always keeping things cordial.

"Much."

He stares at you under his messy bangs, his narrowed eyes softening by the second as his lips curl upward. You're just too true.

You simply hum, standing around idly though not in the way that claims awkwardness, but rather the comfortable kind of silence neither of them get to experience often in this fast paced industry. You look down at your black platform leather boots, a sheer contrast from who you usually present as and it somehow feels liberating. You breathe out, matching his coolness.

"Thought so."

He almost snorts at that, and turns back to look over the features of your angelic face. no amount of black you wear could overshadow the glimmer that follows you everywhere you go. You're a lucky star that's gone as quick as it comes. One day he'll make a wish on you.

"You know me so well."

You huff into a soft laugh that lingers and eventually dies in your throat when you realize the fluttering in your chest is only growing. Yikes. You mutter, low and careful.

"I just... Didn't want you to have a bad night tonight, I guess. With the concert and the album dropping and all... I hope you don't mind I'm sort of dressed like you, heh."

You end it with a shrug as you look ahead at the clouds in the sky and for the first time in a while you feel a tinge of nerves. you, the industry's sweetheart can still feel that after your major lasting success? shocking.

He huffs slightly in response, leaning his back against the wall and tilting his head up, staring up at the sky as he mutters back.

"It's not like I ever really have a totally good time on nights like this, anyway."

You flash your attention at him, tilting your head. In all your years of the supposed 'clashing' between you, you have never heard him speak this way.

"Nights 'like this'?"

He glances back over to you, bringing the cigarette back to his lips for another quick drag before responding, watching you stare at him intently.

"Ahh, performing. All the people. The fans being all over me. The media. All of it, all the time. It's exhausting, actually. I know I'm super hot and talented, but the performance doesn't always end when I get off that stage."

This causes you to lean in just a tad and murmur, curiously.

"... So why do it? All of this?"

And just when he's about to truly spill it all, talk about his never ending battle with his mortality and his career and the way you dominate every single topic in his mind, he simply just looks at you and blows cigarette smoke in your face with that signature smirk of his you always pretend to find so irritating.

"Sometimes it feels real and constant. It's the only thing I can count on... Other than seeing your silly little imitation of me on stage. Hate the mesh, by the way."

You simply stare, taken aback by his oddly sincere and blunt answer. You mutter under your breath as you bite your freshly manicured nails.

"...Yeah?"

Dazai hesitates a moment, his dark eyes glancing away from you as he takes another drag from the cigarette, a moment of vulnerability flickering through his expression. He takes another moment before responding, his voice gruff and a little shaky.

"Yeah..."

He continues to stare off to the side for a long moment, a hint of something like longing and painful restraint crossing his expression as he seems to internally struggle with something. Dazai's expression hardens a little as he finally looks back at you, his shoulders visibly tense as he puffs on the cigarette again, blowing out a long stream of smoke as he tries to push down his own feelings.

But you can tell, you can always tell. Media training, baby.

After what feels like an eternity, you reach out for his cigarette and take it in between your lips, taking a long drag of it yourself. You puff out smoke in a far less cool way than he made it seem, feigning nonchalance as if this isn't the first time you've ever even TRIED one of these damn things.

"Minty..."

He glances at you as you take the cigarette and take a drag yourself, a small but subtle flicker of curiosity in his expression. He watches you exhale and blow out the stream of smoke, before responding in a sardonic voice.

"Since when do you smoke, little miss bubblegum pop?"

You choke out a laugh, waving away the smoke to regain your breath. You smile faintly with a shrug as you hand it back to him after taking one more drag for good measure.

"I don't."

He raises his eyebrows slightly, giving you a look of mischief.

"Then why are you puffing on my cigarette, hm? Your manager would have a stroke if they saw you like this, you know. I'd be marked as a 'bad influence'~"

You shrug again and hum with all the bravery in the world your little heart can muster.

"...Tastes like you, is all."

He just continues to stare at you for a moment, processing your answer. Dazai's expression still remains as unreadable and emotionless as ever, but his eyes flicker for a moment, something indiscernible flashing through them for a fleeting second. It's the internal panic from how badly he wants to kiss you right here and now. He seems to hesitate for a moment before responding with a small smirk forming on his face and sounding wayyy too eager.

"...Is that a good thing?"

You exhale, the smoke leaving your nostrils as you murmur softly, eyes locked on his.

"...Yeah. It's a real and constant thing."

His breath hitches, shoulders visibly reacting by scrunching up as you give your answer. He doesn't say anything, but there's a flicker of something like vulnerability in his expression, a hint of softness around his eyes that betrays his usual cool and careless exterior. He remains silent for a moment longer before responding, his voice a low murmur.

"Yeah... Real."

And before you know it, you simply decide to say fuck it! And do something you'd never have the guts to do before Dazai and his ridiculous self entered your life. You lean in slowly, inching closer and closer to his lips. You're within an inch of kissing him when you whisper.

"... For good luck tonight, Osamu."

Dazai watches you in silence as you lean forward towards him, his expression going from unreadable to filled with pure unfiltered need. As you pause just inches away from his mouth, his eyes flicker once more, his dark irises shifting down to your lips for a second before returning to your eyes. For a moment he doesn't move, just staring down at you with an almost pathetically vulnerable expression on his face. You know better than to say his name like that. Then, in a low voice, he whispers back.

"... Shut up."

He leans down suddenly, pressing his lips against yours. Dazai's lips press against yours in a firm, almost desperate kiss. One of his arms wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, while the other hand moves up to cradle the back of your head, threading his fingers through your purposefully messy yet somehow still soft hair. The kiss is passionate and intense, you can't even fathom how it's all gone down like this but you don't care.

Dazai thinks about how you taste delicious, sinful, and more importantly: Real.

For a few seconds, he kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth, before he finally breaks away, the both of you gasping for breath as he speaks in a quiet and hoarse voice.

"I can't think straight around you like this you silly little thing."

You smile, suddenly back to being bashful and absolutely ready for whatever happens tonight. You both look stunning and it's not just the outfits that speak on it. It's the genuine spark between you two, the collaboration everyone wanted but you NEEDED.

Just when you're about to reply to his snarky comment, your managers bust through the door to the alley and frantically fuss over you both as they yap about how late you are to soundcheck and the pre-show meet and greet. And why do you smell like cigarettes?!

Dazai turns up the charm and bad boy persona while you play up the apologetic and totally easygoing idol who's more than happy to make up for the lost time with the fans! And now in a different color scheme than they're used to!

Before you and Dazai are whisked away into opposite ends to finish getting ready, he leans into the shell of your ear, barely grazing it with his lips as he whispers playfully.

"You drive me crazy. See you on stage, and then maybe backstage~"

You swear you can feel every nerve in your body twitch when he smugly prances away from you after saying that.

... And of course the concert is a total jam, everyone's raving about the new music + matching outfits you're both sporting along with the undeniable chemistry you're cooking up. It's in the way you smile at each other in between songs, or when Dazai's singing a particularly flirty lyric he gazes at you instead of the screaming fans in the crowd. You dance and he watches, just like everybody else always does when you're in the room. Spellbound.

He may be wishing on you a little earlier than he thought he would be, but you don't seem to mind one bit, his lucky star. ⋆｡°✩

[stellar-collective]

Hi there!

If I can request something, can it be Agent Phoenix, Reginald and Prism, meeting a YOUNGER Reginald and Prism?

(From this, one of my ideas made a reality from @phoenix-and-found-family!!)

https://www.tumblr.com/phoenix-and-found-family/760792138142400512/a-trip-to-the-past?source=share

older Prism is already so tired from thinking about all the paradoxes they’re causing

[partypoopur]

9 - vacation

[witchmd13]

a merthur lucifer au where they dont necessarily solve crimes but it's just merlin following arthur around trying to figure out how humans work telling him he has magic/is emrys every 2 seconds and arthur just thinks he's insane but still drags him around with him everywhere anyway

[vamphorica]

mattmello week i: vacation

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandom: Death Note (Anime & Manga)

Relationship: Matt | Mail Jeevas/Mello | Mihael Keehl

Characters: Matt | Mail Jeevas, Mello | Mihael Keehl

Additional Tags: Vacation, Beach Holidays, Childhood Sweethearts, Wammy's House Era (Death Note), Wammy's House (Death Note), Fluff, Public Display of Affection, Gentle Kissing, Gift Giving, Canon Compliant

Word Count: 2,777

Series: Part 1 of MattMello Week 2024 | @mattmelloweek

Summary: Matt and Mello decide to take a spontaneous trip to the seaside.

────────────────────────────

“I’m bored, let’s run away.”

October had brought about with it the mundanity of the forthcoming academic year, no longer enticing in its promise of long hours studying in the library to fixate on specialist subjects. Once again, there were exams to sit that required revision on topics that were frankly boring, and Mello was becoming more and more agitated with each paper, the fear of bad results paralysing him at the bedroom desk for hours on end. The week of respite that was afforded for Christmas was some distant fantasy, and as Matt rested his chin on the other boy’s shoulder, he knew it was time they escaped from this place, even if for a brief moment.

“And where exactly do you propose we go?” Mello mumbled, distracted by the encyclopaedia propped up against the wall that he was using to copy his reference notes. He wrote fast, Matt noticed, but his script was beautiful and easy to read. Bastard.

Matt moved his face so he buried his nose in Mello’s blond curtain of hair, breathing deeply, “We can go to the coast and back in a day.” He pulled back suddenly, cupping his hands across his face as he sneezed loudly. Mello rolled his eyes, flicking a page.

“Hardly beach season, is it?”

Matt shrugged, “Do you want to go away or not?”

“My History exam is in three days.”

“Great, tomorrow it is then.” Matt grinned, “I’ll set the alarm nice and early.”

────────────────────────────

Mello had always been the early riser of the two, and was growing frustrated at how incessantly Matt moaned about his self-inflicted exhaustion. They had scaled the gates at the crack of dawn, taking nothing but a small backpack that contained the accumulation of coins that they had both hoarded over several months from various circumstances since forgotten about. The train station proved to be a nightmare, with Mello notably irritable at how persistent the ticket seller was in interrogating them about their ages and why they intended to travel to the seaside on this rather cold Tuesday morning. Yes, they may have been bunking, but Mello hardly thought it was any of her business to be so intrusive.

“I got no sleep at all last night…”

“Shut up. Take a nap on the train or something, you shouldn’t have stayed up.” Sharing a dormitory with Matt had long since taught Mello to tolerate the repeated beeping that emanated from Matt’s various consoles that he played into the night. The rhythmic pattern they tended to possess often helped him drift to sleep himself anyway, “Need I remind you that this was your idea?”

Matt made a noise akin to an injured puppy, his hand slipping into Mello’s as the train heaved into the station. The blast of air confronted them with the reality of this little adventure that they were about to pursue. Mello squeezed Matt’s hand, and they stepped into the carriage, accompanied by a certain nervous excitement in anticipation of the day ahead.

While Matt did fall asleep the moment that the two sat down, Mello was intrigued by the journey, fixated on watching the rush of blurred landscapes from the window for the entirety of the two hours. His memories of arriving at the House were hazy things that arose only occasionally, but aside from that car journey, he had never travelled this far before. With Matt by his side, any anxieties of arriving somewhere completely new dissipated, replaced instead by a lingering curiosity of the world outside the confines of Winchester.

“Wake up.” Mello nudged Matt as they arrived, prompting the redhead to open his eyes slowly, frowning, “We’re here.”

“Already?”

Mello nodded, standing up, “You coming, or what?”

The two stumbled off the train to the quiet unfamiliarity of a strange place. The platform was empty and the grey clouds above promised nothing pleasant regarding the day’s weather prospects. The two looked at one another as they often did in these moments of uncertainty, but they had come all this way in search of something different from the claustrophobia of the House, which Mello insisted he knew well enough to give a decent estimate of how many bricks it was made up of.

“Let’s go.”

It was obvious this was a town that woke up for the summer, then proceeded to hibernate for the rest of the year. Storefronts selling buckets and spades, postcards, and other tat stood neglected along the narrow high street leading up to the coastline, and the few pensioners that roamed around peered suspiciously at the two small twelve year old boys that passed them by, as if they were breaching their territory. Mello stared back at them in defiance, hardly in the mood to be intimidated by these strangers, but Matt quietly averted his gaze to the cobbled ground, his hands nestled deep in his pockets.

The sea greeted the boys soon enough, stretching out into the whiteness of the autumnal sky as it lapped at the pebbled shore. There was a certain stale smell to the air and the soft cawing of gulls echoed in the isolation; all of a sudden Matt and Mello were the only people in the world. There had always been people around them their entire lives, mostly adults monitoring them and forcing them to comply with their strict rules about who they were meant to become. Yet now, in this empty beach town with its long stretch of seclusion and its cool, sharp breeze, Matt and Mello could sense the enticing opportunity of freedom for the first time.

“Let’s go in the sea.” Matt turned to Mello, a grin lighting up his expression.

“It’ll be damn freezing!”

“We can just take our shoes off and roll our trousers up.” Matt had already begun making his way to the shoreline, treading over the rocks carefully, and Mello quickly followed behind, hardly as resistant to the idea as he would have liked Matt to believe. They kicked off their trainers and discarded them without much concern as to whether they would still be there when they returned, before proceeding to fold over their trouser hems quickly, racing against one another to experience the sea for the first time.

“Ready?” Mello asked and Matt nodded. They shuffled close to the lapping waves, before Mello grabbed Matt’s wrist and ran, pulling the redhead alongside him. They both shrieked loudly as the icy water immediately numbed their feet, giggling at the extremity of their joint reaction.

“It’s so cold!”

“Yeah, no shit!”

They waded in as far as they could, until the water rose to their knees, before stopping to glance back at the beach behind them. There really was no one around, and their hands found each other's shirts, instinctively compelled to cling onto one another for a sense of comfort. They knew there was no risk of judgement here, and the warmth of their bodies was a reassurance in contrast to the bitterly chill waves in which they stood.

“Hey, Matt.”

“Yeah?” Before Matt had time to react, Mello slapped a tsunami over him, provoking another loud scream.

“You wanker!” Matt shoved Mello, causing the blonde to lose his footing and crash down into the sea, which snatched him as if reclaiming something sentimental once lost. Matt immediately grabbed a flailing hand that remained outstretched, pulling the completely damp Mello upright again, smacking his back as he hacked loudly, saltwater caught in his throat. He recovered quickly enough, but not without scowling at Matt.

“Sorry…” Matt mumbled, before attempting a small smirk, “Guess you won’t need a shower tonight.” Mello punched his arm softly, before pressing himself close to the other, giving Matt the opportunity to wrap his arms around Mello tightly, burying his face in the soft curve of his neck and shoulder. He forgot Mello could be fragile too, sometimes.

They stood together like this for a quiet moment before Mello complained that he was cold, and they made their way back up to the shore, wincing as their feet suffered against the hard rocks beneath. Their shoes remained where they had left them, and they gratefully sat down to slide them back on. Matt pulled off his hoodie and began patting Mello’s hair dry uselessly.

“I’m fine, I’m fine…” Mello resisted, but he appreciated the gesture, as ridiculous as it was, “Matt, I’m hungry. Do we have money for food?”

“Yeah.” Matt counted out ten quid from what he could find at the bottom of the backpack, “What do you want?”

“Anything. Well, not ice cream.”

Matt smiled, and stood up, “I’ll see what I can do.”

────────────────────────────

“What can I get for you, son?” The man at the counter was significantly younger than the other residents they had seen so far, and his accent was wildly different to what Matt had heard before, throwing him off as he stared at the battered fish before him blankly.

“What do you have?”

The man laughed, making Matt feel like an idiot, but as he pointed up the menu behind him, Matt could see that the options were limited to fish and chips. They sometimes had it for lunch at the House, but Mello was a picky eater and Matt did not fancy taking a risk.

“Chips. Please.”

The man nodded and began piling a generous portion onto a sheet of newspaper before wrapping it up. Matt wasn't entirely sure of what he thought about this practice but knew better than to comment on it. He exchanged it for the coins and as the man counted his change, he felt the warmth from his parcel melt away the sting of his frozen fingers. Mello would appreciate having something hot to eat.

He found Mello where he left him, sat up with his legs pulled tight against his chest and Matt’s hoodie draped over his shoulders like a cape. It had become sodden as it caught the droplets of water that fell from the strands of his golden hair. Matt sat down as close to him as he could, crossing his legs and laying the package in the centre of his lap before opening it up.

“Here we go. They're hot, so be careful.”

Mello smiled, picking a chip up and blowing on it gently before putting it in his mouth.

“That's really good.”

Matt tested one himself, and nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah. It is.”

Before they knew it, they had attacked a good half of the portion, their fingers slick with grease and crystals of salt. There was something that felt a little bit mischievous about it, for although Wammy’s didn't discourage unhealthy eating habits, it felt like a confirmation of what they had set out to do by taking this little excursion from the boredom of their everyday lives back at the House. Maybe it was because of this that Matt felt a surge of confidence rise within.

“You've got something on your face.” He commented nonchalantly and, without giving Mello time to respond, gently tilted his face with one hand and pressed his lips onto the blonde’s. They had kissed before, once or twice, in the shadows of the corridors while everyone was asleep, but Matt had always felt compelled to initiate it more brazenly. He felt Mello’s lips move against his and they sat with the saltiness of one another for a few moments before reluctantly disengaging.

“I found something while you were gone.” Mello mumbled, and Matt raised an eyebrow, curiosity peaked. Mello gently took the frames of Matt's goggles and pulled them down so they hung around his neck. Matt blinked. It really was a grey day today, now that the world was no longer bathed in a warm hue.

Turning around, Mello picked up something from the ground and then held it up to Matt. A piece of vivid green seaglass, smooth and bright, “I was surprised to find any here, actually, but it's like I thought. It matches your eyes.”

“Oh.” Matt didn’t really know why he struggled with an appropriate response to this, but his chest felt distinctly heavy with adoration for the boy before him. Mello recognised a piece of Matt in this strange landscape. He smiled softly, “Thanks.”

Mello nodded and handed it to Matt, who turned it over in his palm, comforted by its flawless texture, “Do we have to go back to the House?”

“Hm? Yeah, Matt. We do.”

“What if we just stayed here? Or took a train to London. We could even fly to the States from there.”

“With what money? Besides, they’ll find us eventually, you know.” Mello sighed, resting his chin on his knees. Matt leaned against him, relieved that his clothes had more or less dried now, even if it was inevitable that he would go down with a cold in a matter of days, “We don’t have the luxury to just run away – like it or not, we are successors. Sooner than later, I expect, L will have to make a choice about who he wants to take over when he dies.”

“You’re right. I just wish we didn’t have to deal with the pressure.” Matt replied quietly. It was not really the pressure he faced that concerned him, but rather the effect it had on Mello. He had watched how his studies consumed him, how obsession with his position in the House ate away at him with an unrelenting force. Matt had always known that such a trip as this was never going to deter Mello away from the House’s ambitious expectations, but he had hoped that it at least reminded him that there was more to life than the grades that held him captive.

“We should buy a postcard before we go.” Mello announced suddenly.

“Why? Who would we send it to?”

“We can keep it as a memento. Come on.”

The two boys scuffled up, neglecting the remainder of the chips on the shore as an offering to the gulls that had been circling close by, and drifted back towards the high street. The sun was already setting, casting the shops in a warm glow, and Mello dragged Matt into a small store that still had its ‘open’ sign turned outward. It was a musty little establishment, full of all kinds of oddities and junk that only a seaside town could make appear mildly endearing. Matt stared at a collection of taxidermied rats wearing clown outfits in horror as Mello made his way to the postcard stand.

“This place is so creepy.” Matt muttered in a hushed tone, but Mello ignored him as he sifted through the postcards, disappointed by the selection that was on display. Outdated Jubilee celebrations for various Royal Family members, postcards from Mallorca and Budapest, an assortment of ‘Get Well Soon’ cards. He was close to giving up until something caught his eye.

“Greetings from Los Angeles, California.” He read across the front of the faded postcard, depicting a sprawling skyline of tall buildings and palm trees, the sky blue and clear in a manner that looked almost artificial, especially in comparison to the bleakness of this little town. Mello could not quite place his finger on it, but something drew him to the image, something he wanted to hold onto.

“Yeah, come on, let’s go.” Mello muttered, his eyes darting over to the woman at the counter, who appeared half asleep. He slipped the card in the inner pocket of his jacket, without even Matt noticing, and they left the shop, only the small sound of the bell behind them indicating they had ever been there to begin with.

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Despite the mild panic Matt and Mello felt upon realising that they were two pounds short of covering the fare back, only managing to earn after hanging around unashamedly begging for change to use at the telephone box, the two eventually caught the last train back to the House. Mello could feel himself drifting off, catching his head falling against his chest as he tried to blink some energy into the final stretch of the day.

Matt repositioned himself so that he could encourage Mello to lean his head against his shoulder, his hand rubbing the blonde’s thigh reassuringly, “Do you reckon Roger will be angry?”

“Mhm.” Mello replied, “Why, you scared?”

“No! No, I really enjoyed today. I’ll take whatever punishment.” He smiled, “Promise me we will run away together again soon, please?”

Mello’s eyelids felt too heavy to fight against, and as he breathed in the familiar smell of Matt, his mind wandered to that bright sunny skyline of the postcard buried in his jacket.

“Yes Matt, we will.”

[sracha]

🕯️ My Roman piece for @rwbyprism 🎃