#but im hanging on a thread to keep it but whatever

[parkerluvsu]

okay wrote a request for chiropractor!art or some type of body worker!art a few nights ago very late and stoned so sorry if it was messy or phrased impolitely. if you would be so kind as to bestow some of your artistic talent upon the proposed concept, i would be very grateful, obviously no pressure or rush. please and thank you!

if you’re open to it, picture art being immediately smitten upon seeing you. you’re a little taken aback by his appearance and charm, but resolve yourself to focus on tending to your long aching body and focusing on pain management and healing to whatever capacity you may achieve.

little do you know, art is growing exponentially enamored. he was initially smitten by the way your eyes met his, your voice when you greeted him, and countless other little wonders about you.

he is the picture of professional, externally. no one needs to know he anticipates your sessions all week. schools himself into not losing his composure over the forced proximity prompted by the setting. he grows obsessed with trying to untangle and pinpoint the layers of your smell when he’s all up in your space. he’s being so normal about pushing up your legs as far back as they can go, slowly gaining more and more ground. he definitely doesn’t think about the ways he can bend and fold you right here right now, or the positions he could use his profession to help you work up to. he doesn’t feel his ethics hanging by a thread every time another lovely sound is pushed out of you. tells you to breath makes intense eye contact while coaching you through breathing in spite of overwhelming pain when addressing a tight spot. tenderly talking to you through any pain. touching every inch of you, to get to the root of any discomfort only, of course. he has immense respect for you, especially considering you’ve been carrying immense pain so gracefully for so long.

he knows he can’t date a patient but that doesn’t mean his mind can’t wander…

wonder what he thinks about… gets up to…

anyhow, thank you for entertaining this ask and full respect however you choose to engage with it or not.

thank you good sir.

holy fuck 😭😭 i mean what can i add to this perfect ask?!?!

im imagining that you didn't exactly know that your chiropractor would be a man.. i mean all your previous ones weren't, so when you walked into the clean, organized office and were met with the most gorgeous man you've ever seen.. yeah, you were a little surprised.

but you tuck those feelings deep down and try to be professional, telling him how it hurts when you raise your arm too high, and how your calves keep cramping no matter what you do. and art listens, nodding his head every once and a while and taking little notes on his clip board. but despite trying to he professional, you can't help but look away when his pretty blue eyes meet yours.

then he gets to work, telling you to lay on your stomach while he digs his thumbs into your leg muscles, and you're fighting the urge to make absolutely embarrassing sounds, but art couldn't even notice that if he wanted to.. he's in his own world, letting his hands massage and bend your legs gently, the soft skin sending him almost into a trance, sometimes interrupted by thoughts of rubbing lotion into other places on your body.. wondering if you're this soft everywhere.. wondering how far he could take this without you noticing his erection in his pants.. but art is a professional.. he wouldn't put his job on the line just to get his dick wet.. but that doesn't stop him from thinking about it..

in the next session you two have together (which art has been not so subtly preening himself for), art works on your shoulders, asking you to sit up while he presses his palms into your shoulder blades, biting his lip when you make a noise of discomfort, torn between wanting to comfort you, and wanting to hear more..

after he books your next appointment, art sends you on your way with his signature sweet smile, before shutting himself in his office and cancelling all of his appointments for the rest of the day.. definitely not because hes rubbing the sweet lotion that he always uses on you at your appointments into his hands.. groaning and spreading his legs in his chair to grant himself better access to shallowly thrust his hips into his hand.. the pink head of his cock peeking out of his fist every once and a while.. when the thought of your noises from earlier that day pop into his head.. arts a goner, shooting white rivulets onto his navy blue work pants.

cleaning himself up, art sends you an email insisting that it would be in his best interests if you would have a session with him 2 times a week.. of course just to help you feel better quicker, not because he needs more inspiration for those lonely nights alone at the office <33

[taiyami]

Not to sound anti-education but sometimes a higher education regarding art doesn't do anything besides make a person insufferably opinionated.

[damianbugs]

4am and im thinking about a time travel/time loop au where jason is reliving his death over and over again. its been years since that day in ethiopia, and more than terror — jason is tired. he sees this same event, word for word, metal against bone, blood in his mouth every day of his life. reliving it is no different than seeing it every time he closes his eyes.

until, he notices that the jokers smile growing wider and more sinister might not just be his imagination. then the third, or fourth time the day starts again, the joker changes the script. he can't help but adlib an extra insult in between the torture, too high with power and glee.

and all of a sudden jason is revitalised. in just one second, it's no longer I'm stuck in this horrifying time loop, it's We're in this time loop and I'm not stuck with you — you're stuck with me.

jason discovers new ways to torture (hyperbolically and literally) the joker now that he knows they're stuck in this impossible infinity together for a unforeseeable stagnant future. it starts as a game, only because the joker hasn't yet realised jason's the only one playing. it's too late when he realises that jason can do whatever he wants, because the day resets no matter what, and they'll see each other and jason will be ready with a new way to get his vindication.

very quickly, jason looks forward for the day to start again. he's still got 42 plans against the joker he wants to enact, and he doesn't think his thirst for revenge it yet quelled.

except — a couple miles away, someone else keeps waking up too. this is his worst nightmare come alive. the universe knows no bounds of cruelty and he's barely hanging on to the thread. what is this, the fifteenth, twentieth time he's been forced to relive this horrible day? he can't do this anymore. he's always too late.

bruce can never save jason.

[nomazee]

Hello, congratulations on your milestone! 🎉

May I have (for the mix-and-match 😚) Dr.Ratio and the word-concept "bathtub"? 🫢

Take your time! ❤️❤️

this one was fun to write too (as per usual with ratio) i've written for dr ratio so much in the last two weeks i think i am becoming him.... Im slowly morphing into veritas ratio please save me... THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING this was lovely :3

my 1k event!

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

“No way. You take bubble baths with a rubber duck?” 

Veritas freezes for no longer than a millisecond before whipping his head around to see you in the doorway of the bathroom. He’d been relaxing just moments ago, sinking into the hot water with his eyes closed, and yes there was a rubber duck in the bath with him but that was not by choice. It just happened to be there when he ran the bath, and he opens his mouth to argue but is quickly cut off by your endless rambling. 

“Anyways, I came to wash your hair. One of your assistants told me you just left in the middle of your usual work hours, and I thought, ‘wow, how odd, the Ratio I know would never do that!’ And then I thought, what better way to cheer my dear friend up than keep him company and wash his hair! It did look a little greasy today.” 

“I am not your dear friend,” he argues mockingly, but the bite in his voice falls short when you circle around the bath and set down your paraphernalia on the tiles next to you (a microfiber hair towel, shampoo, conditioner, some miscellaneous hair foams and sprays that he really does not trust you with). “You are the most insufferable person I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. Get out of my bathroom.” 

“This is our bathroom now, Ratio. We’re a community, you and me.” 

“It’s ‘you and I.’”

“Exactly! You and I, a community. You’re getting the hang of it now.” 

Veritas sighs, surrendering any potential of a relaxing evening to your whims. This is, unfortunately, how it usually goes, and he has yet to make a real effort to stop it. A voice in the back of his head taunts him because at his core, he has zero desire to stop it at all. 

“Come on,” you keep babbling, threading your fingers roughly through his already-damp hair. It’s not a pleasant sensation at all, and he winces and holds back a pained yelp. “It’s kind of like going to a spa, or whatever. I’m trying to pamper you. Be grateful!” 

“There’s nothing to be grateful about when you’re trying to scalp me,” he could push your hands away easily, bat you off and make you leave. Instead, though, he gives you a minute to tame your inelegant movements into something gentler. He hears the sound of a bottle uncapping, and then your hands are back on his scalp, lathering honey-scented shampoo into the layers of his hair. 

“Is this better?” you ask cheekily, tracing circles in his hair, digging your fingertips in and scratching just a little bit, hard enough to feel it but light enough that it’s still soothing. Veritas sighs through his nose, deep and heavy and sinking back into the water. There’s no mocking retorts, no quips, no sarcastic tone, just the even cycle of his breathing and the rhythm of his heartbeat thudding in his ears. If he tries hard enough, focuses enough, he can hear yours too, but it makes his stomach twist with an uncomfortable, unnameable feeling. 

In your bundle of things that you brought, there’s an empty plastic cup, and you use it to scoop water from the tub and rinse the foam from his hair. Veritas feels wholly exposed, for obvious reasons among others, and the urge to kick you out still sits heavy in his chest. Right next to it is a warmth, though, something holding his sensibility hostage, something that finds this more comforting than it would be if he’d sat in the bath until the water went cold, all alone, without your hands washing his hair clean of oil and grime and the weight of his research. 

You break him of his reverie, but the sudden sound of your voice isn’t as intrusive as he anticipated. “You know, you should start using this oil thing for your hair, I got it from one of my coworkers,” by now, his hair is completely rid of any remaining shampoo, and your hands are rubbing a thin layer of conditioner into the ends of each strand, “and it’s supposed to help your hair grow. I think you’d look great with long hair, Veritas, don’t you agree?” 

“What, do you think about that often?” It’s supposed to be something snarky, something to shut you down before you dig too deep, but you never catch the hint—it’s your best and worst quality. 

“Maybe,” you admit, heft in your words, a density that needs to be cut open and examined. He’s good at that—good at looking and prying, but he’s the worst if he’s next to you. You’re nowhere near as thorough of a researcher as him, but he thinks (with a sense of embarrassment) that when the subject is him, you’re the most qualified person around. “Wouldn’t it be nice? With your hair all down to your shoulders, maybe. And if you really think it’s a hassle to take care of, I’ll just do it for you.” 

He’s perfectly capable of taking care of his own hair, thank you very much, but the idea of having you wash it for him, brush out the tangles in it every other day is appealing to a starving man like Veritas. He aches, and the skin at the nape of his neck itches. 

“You’re saying nonsense,” he says, and he can feel the way his brow has tightened and he instinctively goes to chew at the dead skin on his lips. “My hair is perfectly fine the way it is.” 

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” you respond, “just giving you options.” Your hands finally leave his hair, and suddenly the water in the bathtub feels frigid and icy, and Veritas represses a shiver. “Your hair is squeaky clean. Now, get out of the bathroom! It’s my turn to hang out with the rubber duck.” 

“Would you—?!” Veritas turns to glare at you, but the impish grin on your face makes him falter. You’re incorrigible. “The duck isn’t mine! And you have your own bathroom. Stop invading my space.” 

“Sigh,” you say aloud, because you’re corny and theatrics are written into every part of your personality. “Oh, grandest Ratio, I really did think we were friends, but you wound me so deeply! All this time has meant nothing to you! All this new shampoo that I bought just for you, gone to waste…” 

“For gods’ sake,” he mutters, reaching for a set of pajamas that you’d so conveniently taken from his own dressers and brought with you while on your mission to wash his hair. “Turn around so I can get dressed and then you can use the bathroom. So annoying.” 

“Not annoying enough to kick me out, though,” you say, and you’re completely right, and Veritas will admit that one day, but certainly not today.

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

gen taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin @hanyi-writes

[koyagifs]

Facade of Perfection

pairing: San x reader au: ceo genre: angst summary:Under the facade of being the perfect couple for the world, your relationship with San is hanging by a thread that finally snapped at his promotion party. warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing. a/n: unedited

part 2

──･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.────

"San are you ready? we have less then an hour to arrive before they start to question where we're at." You said, exciting the bathroom as you put your earrings in.

San rolled his eyes, sitting down the leather couch with a cup of whiskey in one hand and the other messaging his mistress. You weren't dumb, you knew exactly when the affair started it's why you demand San to wear condoms when we "makes love" to you.

You entered the living room seeing him there, a smirk on his face before it was replaced an angered face. " about fucking time" he mumbled.

You tsk, grabbing your purse before you left the building leaving him behind. Drowning the drink in his hand, he followed behind shortly afterwards. The drive to his promotion party was as usual silent, his phone screen being lit up every few minutes with what you assume to be his mistress once again demanding his attention.

" tell her to leave you alone for a few fucking hours. She's acting like a dog in heat." You huffed out.

" shut up yn, clearly she loves me very much to actually try and keep my attention."

Your jaw tighten as you glared at him as he finally shuts his phone off. The car came to a halt and the cameras began to flash. Wiping your tears away, you wrapped your hand around his jaw and pulled him closer to you. He hissed in pain as your nails dug into his skin.

" we're going to act like a nice and lovely couple for this party, then you can go to your whores house and do whatever you want. I don't care anymore Choi San but for fucks sake for your parents and mine do not screw this up."

Pushing him away, he left the car and opened your car door and placed his fake and loving face for the cameras that awaited for you and San. Taking his hand, you exited the car a fake smile on your face. Placing a kiss on his cheek as the the two of you walked towards the building. Anxiety bubbled in your stomach as you both enter the elevator. San took a look at the markings on his face before he pinned you to the wall.

"jealously is not a good look on you, wife" He spoke, grabbing your chin just you had in the car.

You glared at him, staying silent as he continued on. " next time, lets refrain from calling her a whore hm? At least she cares for me"

You rolled your eyes as you shoved him away from you. " cares for you? I'm not having this conversation with you dear husband"

" see, this is exactly what im talking about! You continue to push me away "

"san "

"no we will be having this -"

" san shut the fuck up and turn around" You said harshly with a smile on your face before you turned San around, facing the crowd that didn't noticed the two of you bickering. San was quick to recover, putting his hand around your waist, guiding you towards his group of friends. As they said their hellos, San was quick to leave you.

" youre lucky no one noticed you two. It looked kinda heated for a second." Mingi said, handing you glass of champagne.

Taking the glass as you mumbled a thanks before you chugged it. "you're not going home with him are you?"

Your eyes followed him as he made his rounds, greeting everyone with his real smile. The real smile that you fell in love with. A hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality as you turned around to Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

" he was fast to leave you love," Hongjoong said, a smirk tugging on his lips.

" not fast enough. I can't wait for this night to be over" you mumbled, grabbing another glass of champagne.

──･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.────

Nearing midnight, you lost sight of San when Hongjoong continued talking to you, trying his best to ease your mind. You excused yourself, promising him you'll be back as you went to look for San. Turning down the hallway there was your husband, making out with his mistress. You scoffed, took the remaining liquid in your drink before you marched down to them. You knew you were drunk but the anger inside you continued to fume.

" how touching" You said, causing the two to jump away from each other.

She began to stutter as San remained calmed, zipping his pants back up. You began to grow irritated at her attempts to explain herself, "just shut the fuck up. please."

" San if you don't tell our lovely guests that we will be making our leaves so your absences isn't question"

San continued to glare at you as he whispered into his mistress ear. She excused herself, making her way towards the elevators. Tears stung your eyes once she was gone from your frame. Chest heaving as you tried your best to look presentable but you just couldn't. When San reappeared, Hongjoong was right behind him following him closely. San gripped your arms, tugged you close to him as you let out a cry of pain.

" god, i fucking despise you" He said, anger laced in his face.

You giggled, tears falling down as you looked up at him. "ditto"

[coeurify]

s(creaming) for rough jealous but also insecure and soft abby, she’s straight up folding you in half making your eyes cross while whispering asks for you to reassure her letting out breathy ‘please’s while you tell her you’d never leave her, you’d do anything for her 🍰

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: cake anon strikes again making me crazy w their reqs. 18+ as always

“Say it,” Abby pressed, tone much too soft for the physical movements that accompanied the words bordering on a beg. The syllables dripped with need, thick and sweet on your skin as she searched over your blissed-out gaze.

“Abs,” you whine, fingers finding the flesh of your girlfriend’s strained bicep muscle. You draw ruby-colored lines with your nails on the skin of Abby as she pistons into you with her strap again. It punches all of the air from your lungs, mouth hanging open.

Abby keeps the rough pace, the words finding their way to her lips again, “tell me.” It’s a demand this time, obvious from the especially rough thrust that tumbles in right after. The action fishes out another cry from your open mouth. Blinking away the tears that build with every punishing plunge into your gushing cunt, you try your best to find words.

“Only want you,” you finally breathe, words linking together in a way that actually makes sense, despite coming slurred from your cockdrunk mind. “Never want anyone else, Abby.”

“Keep going,” the blonde grits; the more pleading sound of the demand is drowned out by the wet sounds that bounce off all four walls, a downright filthy mixture that you were sure whatever it was above would frown upon.

“Im yours, Abby. Never gonna let you go,” you babble, the knots in your stomach threading closer together as you reach your peak.

“Tell me no one else can have you, yea? Tell me how you’re ruined for anyone else,” Abby pushes into you in tandem with the shaky breath she lets out, “Go on, doll. Tell me.”

[devondespresso]

Wiggly Worm Wednesday!! 🧠🪱

tagged by @little-annie this Wednesday, @pearynice and @hotluncheddie last time, @queenie-ofthe-void (and hotluncheddie again💕) the time before, and @carolperkinsexgirlfriend the time before that. Thank you guys so much for tagging me even when i can't get to it right away 💖💗💝

Lately I've been kinda swamped with fic commitments and rushing stuff last-minute (my own fault ofc 😅) writing mostly romance, so now im just itching to go back to my platonic stuff! nothing against romance, im enjoying writing it for sure, but god i can't wait to work on my Steve Henderson au again

for now tho the probably-never-to-be-written worms are about Steve bunking with the Buckleys post s4. maybe his parents just never came home, maybe they were there and had a big blowup argument with Steve about leaving, but they're not around now and Robins not about to let Mr Walking-Sepsis-Risk live alone for the apocalypse

in my head i imagine the buckleys house is kinda like max's before s4, a smaller 1-story but cozy, and no guest room so Steve stays in Robin's room.

her parents let them but they're definitely a little wary and a little lost but at least a little used to it, both thanking whatever power they believe in that no matter how freakishly clingy they are now, its still world's better than the violently freakishly clingy stobin was right after starcourt, when both of them looked to be hanging on by a thread and that thread was each other.

so they're like. chill. they plow through an awkward conversation about how bad an idea it would be to be up to something right now with steves injuries and robin sees herself out like halfway through, piling all the old stuffed animal onto her bed and keeping them there for the next week to avoid thinking about it. And Steve, abandoned by his partner in crime, stumbles through his own awkward explanation along the lines of 'you don't have to worry about that, i promise' before joining Robin in her embarrassed cringing-party, featuring notable guests such as Mr. Cat, Doodles, and Floppsy Bunny.

Not much of a plot in my head really, I'm just enjoying all the vague ideas floating around this premise. theres lots of details about Steve and his wounds, like wearing button downs that are easier to put on than pull-overs, Mr. Buckley letting him borrow some when Steve only finds a couple (or when he packs his normal clothes not realizing how miserable itd be to take them on and off constantly to check how things are healing).

Also Steve helping around the house and the Buckley's getting to know him better and not just the Polite Steve that they usually see because Steve couldn't risk his best friends parents not liking him (and because usually robin would go to his house, its a lot easier to sneak out than it is to smuggle someone in, especially with freaky upside down nightmares). Maybe Steve gets to actually joke around with Robin's dad, talk real shit with her mom (maybe about the future, hippie mom offering a different perspective on what life can be, how you can figure things out, just try things even if you don't have a perfect plan)

Steve finding safety not just with Robin, but with Robins family. the four of them growing this sweet relationship, not like a second child for the buckleys but more like a second home for Steve. stobin are firmly strange best friends to me (as opposed to siblings), and i like the dynamic of steve and robin's parents as 'my kids best friend' type stuff, not cause there's any less love but more like they're not trying to replace Steve's parents, they just end up filling in the gaps.

oki tagging presumably for next time (tho if you guys wanna do it late anyway you go for it, time isn't real wahoo): @marvel-ous-m @momotonescreaming @puppy-steve @lightoftheseraph @lingeringmirth

@writing-kiki @eriquin @scriptorbemi @sourw0lfs @soaringornithopter

@solarmorrigan @eddiethebrave @steddiecameraroll @imfinereallyy @yabakuboi

@kikidoesfanfic @tinytalkingtina @hairstevington @stellarspecter @sunflowerharrington

[nekrosdolly]

albert wesker hcs pt.3

guys... i'm sorry i'm so obsessed with re1 wesker... but these are for re1 wesker...

cw; cigarettes, lighters, william birkin mentions, alcohol mentions, s.t.a.r.s AND umbrella mentions WHOAAAA, debunking rebesker, rebecca chambers mention, kissing!, a peak into wesker's backstory, if you don't know his backstory please read his wiki page im begging you.

a/n; reader's job is unspecified so how y'all meet is really up to you!

✰ albert smokes. that's no surprise, really. he likes menthols- his preference is marlboro blue 100's, but he keeps a pack of marlboro black reds around too. doesn't like bic lighters, only uses the zippo lighter he was given (thanks Umbrella.)

✰ he meal preps for the week, cleans as he cooks so there's less of a mess after. he tries to clean every few days as his apartment can get disorganized just as quickly as it's cleaned.

✰ speaking of his apartment…

✰ mahogany cabinets, dark granite countertops, with typical white paint on the walls. nothing too expensive, he still has to keep up the appearance of being a normal citizen and not an Umbrella employee. The floors are cheap linoleum in the kitchen and bathroom wood everywhere else. he has minimal furniture- a couch, a bookshelf, a television on a boring black coffee table. his bed is a full, the sheets black and made of inexpensive material.

✰ he's hardly home except to grab food and sleep, so what more does he need than what he already has? zero pictures hanging up, nothing to make it feel like a real home except for the occasional hint of life.

✰ drinks semi-regularly. he likes wines and whiskeys, not so much frothy or carbonated drinks i.e. beers or seltzers. if he's offered a cocktail, he'll take it.

✰ he does try to maintain a relativley okay relationship with the s.t.a.r.s alpha team so he doesn't come off as suspicious, even if he seriously dislikes group outings. once a month, they go out for drinks. he doesn't stay long, just enough to get by without revealing too much about himself.

✰ contrary to popular belief, he doesn't have a thing for rebecca. they had a similar educational experience. he graduated highschool and went to college at an early age, just like she did. they share similarities and he finds that he can talk to her with ease, but he doesn't find himself attracted to her. not to mention that she's eighteen- he has morals.

✰ when you come into his life, he's not expecting it in the slightest. hardly anything catches him off guard, but you, you do something to him. you're not a match on the intellectual level and that's fine, he likes being the one to educate you on certain topics. he likes talking to you because you make him feel good without trying. the ease at which you offer your attention to him is something he should expect, but it's different with you. he's not giving you orders or lecturing you- you're just talking, and you like it, no less.

✰ it's a slow burn despite his clear affection for you, which he wasn't hoping to gain initially. it's not his fault that you're so pretty- just his type, no less- and so nice to him. you always smell good and you're put-together in your appearance. he loves that he can simply say whatever around you and how you nod along, giving him your full attention. he drinks it, gets drunk on it, and saves it for later.

✰ maybe he imagines you in the dead of night to help him sleep. wonders what pajamas you wear, if any, to sleep and how you'd feel pressed firmly against him while snuggling. he dreams of coming home to you after a long day, resting his head in your lap as you talk to him about what happened at work. your fingers thread through his hair, bringing a sense of calm to him.

✰ sometimes he wakes up and thinks you're there. he'll pat the mattress blindly until he realizes that no, he's not living the dream because if he were, you'd be lying next to him.

✰ at umbrella, he's just as determined as he is with his s.t.a.r.s team. he's a brilliant virologist- there's a reason he was employed when he was 17. he's the head researcher for the t-virus project and for the tyrant project, the latter being his own work. he helped william with developing the g-virus as well. he tells william about you. after all, william is the closest friend he has, so why would they not confide in each other?

✰ it's william who tells albert to go for it, to tell you how he feels.

✰ albert listens to classical for the most part. given he grew up when nu-wave was picking up, he listens to some of that, too. think depeche mode. not a big fan of the cure. enjoys the smiths (just like me fr.) he likes piano-centric music and some "dad" rock (as you call it.)

✰ he likes kissing you anywhere and everywhere. in his office, in the car (parked! no unsafe driving for him), taking a walk, while he's smoking, drinking, what have you.

✰ he doesn't let his feelings for you get in the way of work, however tempting it may be. sure, he thinks about you on his lunches and texts you when he can, but out of sight, out of mind. he's committed to his career(s) and though you're important to him, his work is more important. he's married to his work, but so is everyone who works at umbrella. he was manufactured for this, which is why he's there so much. why you two grow apart faster than he'd expected, and even while your relationship crumbles, he's working as much as ever.

[freneticfloetry]

I'm trying very hard not to make this split snippet thing A Thing, but it's difficult when your ADHD brain won't settle. So it's yet another dual fandom day, this one dedicated to Lim, because she has made me unspeakably happy with Knave-verse happenings.

Shocking no one, neither of these is actually seven sentences.

Thanks to @carlos-in-glasses @heartstringsduet @strandnreyes @welcometololaland @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @bonheur-cafe @lemonlyman-dotcom and @liminalmemories21 for the tags.

First up, yet another slice of esta noche (which is so close to being done, damn adulting and my fickle muse):

TK takes his fiancé’s face between both palms and pulls him in until their foreheads knock together. “It’ll be okay,” he says softly, hoping Carlos can hear all the ways that he means it. “Now get out of here. The sooner you handle whatever this is, the sooner you can come back home.” They hang there for a moment, one with eyes wide open and the other’s sweetly shut, and there’s something suspended in the scant space between them, something precious and fragile and sacred. He’s close enough to count Carlos’ eyelashes. It’s still too soon when Carlos starts to move — brings his free hand up to squeeze TK’s hip, tips his head back to press his lips to TK’s temple. “I’ll text you.” “You better.” Throat burning, TK lets go. He musters up another smile, curls his fingers into fists and shoves them in the pockets of his sweats, just to keep himself from reaching out again. “Bye, baby.”

And once again, a wild FirstPrince appears:

“I’ve never actually… done this before?” Henry raises an eyebrow, and Alex rushes ahead with more words, as he is forever wont to do. “I want to. In case that wasn't clear. Like, fuck, I’m gonna enjoy the shit out of this. I just, you know… need you to tell me if it sucks.” His grip tightens almost involuntarily, at odds with the wide-open earnestness on his face, and Henry sucks in a breath and fists both hands in the sheets. By his estimation, there's enough resolve left in him to either respond in a way that's calm and collected or refrain from coming in his pants, but not nearly enough to do both. “Alex,” he says, hanging on by a thread despite the fact that he has literally dreamt about this, “I cannot stress enough what a virtual impossibility that is. The mere act of you breathing in the general vicinity has already made my top three.” Alex blinks, struck seemingly silent for once in his life. Then he grins, slow and wide and bright as the sun, even as his eyes eclipse. “Pretty sure I can do better than breathe on it,” he drawls, “but hey, if that’s what you’re into, sweetheart.”

Tagging in @never-blooms @paperstorm @reyesstrand @rmd-writes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @ladytessa74 @herefortarlos @three-drink-amy @walkinginland @orchidscript @carlos-tk @nancys-braids @whatsintheboxmh and @alrightbuckaroo !

[chenswire]

overdue Episode 11 post

basically the chenswire part of my stupidly long twitter thread covering ep 11 with more delusional thoughts and I ended up TLing their last scene in CN I guess (scroll to bottom) i wish i had the energy to make 1morbillion gifs but i do not so.. Excerpts from my 200 image screenshot folder it is

So the ep starts off with a super pensive Swire which was very cute when will my wife return from the war energy

And then she breaks out into a super un-ladylike run whaddahell!!!! this sequence was sooo well drawn wtf. handsome

(Something here about how people were joking this part is summer chen because they call chummer 水陈 'water chen')

I like how relaxed the atmosphere was like this definitely isn't the first time something like this has happened, well I mean after all they are Professional Co-workers who do not fight 24/7 (they get into an argument immediately after)

When they break eye contact to turn towards Hoshiguma they basically don't meet each other's gazes again as they take turns to glare at each other its insane... Also Swire saying she should take over and Chen needs treatment... Chen you understand what that means right...

Another detail I love is how at the start they already show her battered jacket/clothes for us gamers to point at the screen and then later who those who don't know/didn't notice we have a whole close up of chen reacting to it...man.jpg And swire leaving right away once she knows chen is fine (and one of her good points. lol. lmao) you guys are sure so quick

Link to CN version of the PUUK GAI LUNG in Paci Plaza I love how she's like 'Chen you stay right there' at the end like she's going to idk fly over ASAP to whack her (as opposed to just 'hey, chen!')

Here's a clip of the last scene with CN dub because not only do we get 'ah chen' it just hits so different...

Hi~ Still there, Miss Ah Chen? Ah? What d'you mean by ah, huh? Aren't you a Dai Siu Ze too? Enough of that, don't you have something to tell me? What happened at Paci Plaza… I'll make sure to sort it all out and file for damages later.

Had a feeling they would go with the JP loc's 'aren't you an ojou too' since you know, anime, but keeping the 'ah chen' and that 阿什么阿 response the unparalleled casualness

You… Remember the Cha Chaan Teng at Sheung Wan? Trying to change the subject? The one near the LGD HQ, right? I used to stop by there on my patrols sometimes. Let me treat you to something there next time. Hmm~ If we go there… I want a steak tomato and egg burger! Wait, no! Like hell I'd want you to treat me to a meal!

the longer pause after 'you...' like she was considering something else before she decided to go with her 茶餐厅 MENTION!!!!! gives this a whole different flavour... chen outright offering the meal instead of swire guessing??? THE WARM SMILE CLOSE UP i feel like im intruding on something

Then send your bill to Chief Wei. I'm hanging up. Wait, don't hang up just yet! I heard you ran straight out of Rhodes Island in the end. What are you planning? Weren't you looking for their help? Ugh, stay down! Take a nap over there! You sure sound busy. Guess I should hang up. Tch… I'm not done speaking with you yet. Was leaving the little bunny (and the others) over there weighing on your mind? Well, whatever. (We'll just do this) Just let me help you clean up the mess over here.

It just sounds so much more casual in CN than the JP dub (which is excellent ofc) >let me do it for you instead of 'ill do it' (head in hands)

the opposite lighting and angle and chen looking away vs swire looking straight #KINO

Don't talk like you understand me very well, Miss S. Enough!!! How many times have I told you not to call me that!! Got it, got it.

You don't seem to get it, so I'll be nice today and explain it to you. Life is extremely precious. You're always risking your life chasing what's right in front of you. Stop doing that. Got that? Your advice… I'll take it.

That exasperated 'Enough!!!' i (turns into a plane and flies away) and the last line... it as 'thanks for the advice' which technically isn't wrong but you know the nuance of uh. kind of, almost, somewhat, accepting a... confession... (of her concern ofc) also CN chen lets swire finish speaking instead of interrupting which hehe... like i said..the flavour hits different. also that subtle movement as chen like eases in more and more between those lines aaaghhhhhhhhhh

their earlier argument was so explosive and quick, but now their banter is so tender and slow like bruh. what. even the act of chen putting down her sword to sit down in a comfortable position (loved that she sat like that One leg sitters rise up!!!) was so ??? the normally yolo speedrunner chen being so leisurely like damn. ok. ok. From 'you think you can order me around' to basically agreeing to an order (Londinium cannon vine boom) I thought Chen being this warm was more or less a delusion that I inferred through in game as subtext (since in game her expression then is usually like her default rbf face...) and seeing it here as 'text' in the show is like 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯 holy shit can't believe i got FED after four years incidentally i've been obsessed with a certain CN writer's fics lately because the way they write chen like a sad wet dog while showing warmth is crazyyy maybe i will blog about it next time because i was legit taking notes lmao

[bunnygirl678]

Because I need to work on my WIPs and not add another I'm putting this out into the stratosphere, please as always (and literally any concept you see me throw around even if i wrote a fic about it i want more stories) feel free to steal it, draw it, write it, or use it to distract yourself from the pain radiating from the massive cut in your foot that has decided to just bleed all night (oddly specific bunny is not okay) anywhosers

-royalty au

-red is like the sole prince of a small nation, Pallet, his mom is the queen, despite the nation being small , they are increadibly strong thanks to pokemon trainer prince who beats everyone

-rocket nation with king gio had been attacking and waging a full out war but Red's pushed them back, now rocket nation is trying to form alliances, so Red's mom has to the do same thing

-a neighboring nation, Oakland (ha) had always fought with Red's nation over resources or something, but rocket is attacking them so they form an alliance

-and to form an alliance King Samuel sends his grandson Green to be married off

-cause daisy's the oldest so she'll be queen, and honestly the king thinks green is shit at everything so getting rid of him is a weight off his shoulders

-and green is pissed cause he's a strong trainer and had been doing a lot to protect his nation but his grandfather doesn't care

-red and green immediately hate each other but like they're married so they have to be around each other

-and green like snuck his pokemon with him and keeps sneaking away to train and eventually red catches him training and is like hey wait you like pokemon battling

-all the while rocket is forming alliances and planning a sinister take over of pallet then Oakland

-red and green bond over training

-and like all of the nobels and military leaders treat green like he's just arm candy but now Red's like hey wait you actually know stuff and are almost as strong as me

-green starts coming to planning sessions and the elite 4 generals dont take him serious or whatever then red is like okay go battle him

-green kicks their asses and earns their respect

-they do planning and training and all the while red and green are falling for each other but neither will admit it, cause they think the other just sees this as duty or whatever

-finally the battle comes rocket vs. everyone else

-it's going well until green gets hurt, like maybe he and red are joking around on the battlefield some cause it's easy and they're kinda having fun and flirting a bit, but then someone sneaks and stabs green or whatever

-one of the elite 4 take green away to medics and red goes feral (think achilles) he beats giovanni for good

-all of the allies meet up to divvy up rocket's territories, and green is like hanging on by a thread or whatever and his grandfather is like who cares he only exists to further Oakland's control

-red is pissed threatening to wage ware against oakland

-daisy ends up finding out green is hurt and immediately comes to pallet to see him (cause she actually loves her brother) and that calms red down

-red's mom ends up somehow getting oak to step down as king and daisy becomes queen

-green gets better and red's like hey i know you don't love me and were just forced into this by your grandfather so here is this country called Viridian it's yours youre the king now

-and before green can be like wait im in love with you too, red fucks off to mt. silver (cause of course right)

-green is devastated, red is devastated

-the story is over... or is it???

-it isn't obviously, cause bunny has to have her happy ending cause real life sucks ass so fantasy has to be great in the end

-prince gold from johto makes friends with green, hears the story, and how technically green and red are 100% still married

-so he and his merry band of mischief makers (silver, lyra, kris) go on a journey to bring red down

-they make up some story about green being in trouble

-red obviously rushes down the mountain to save green, but like green's just hanging out in his castle bored as hell playing spoons with alakazam or something

-he see's red and rushes to him and they embrace and kiss

-and green's like i can't stand it i'm in love with you and red's like oh shit me too

-then they merge viridian and pallet and have a second more fun wedding where it's happy instead of an arranged thing

-and they live happily ever after

[unicyclehippo]

Heat

apologies that im using not an anon one for this feel free to IGNORE but this fit best lmaoo

//

‘what a shame i died by hanging,’ laudna said, words tugged from her by imogen’s slow, beckoning fingers against her neck, her tiny sounds of demand, of please, as they kissed, as imogen kissed her, unmade, unravelled her, thread by thread.

imogen stopped, breath warm against her cheek. she sounded quite distracted, quite outside of her mind when she spoke, which laudna counted amongst her very greatest successes, though she didn’t think she was doing much more than being very sweetly kissed.

‘what?’

the chair creaked as imogen leaned back. laudna’s neck creaked as she looked up at her - girlfriend? she’d never looked more beautiful. laudna told her as much. a flicker of delight, hungry, red, luscious, banished worry for the time it took imogen to take in her compliment. then it was back.

‘why’re you thinkin’ about that?’ imogen asked her. ‘your death. are you - comfortable? should we switch places? do you-‘

‘i’m quite comfortable.’

‘okay. d’you want me to-‘ imogen’s fingers brushed against laudna’s temple. she leaned into the touch, felt something in her settle as imogen petted her, stroked her hair back from her face, stroked the inside of her mind with the outside of her own. ‘oh.’

‘you can see - it would be pretty.’ laudna skimmed through idle dreams, the blood red of leather, soft, around her throat. the blood red of Imogen’s fingers curled around it. she could go where imogen went. she could sit at her side and be good, be so quiet and perfect and do everything imogen asked her to do and she wouldn’t need to ask, she was so good at it already and imogen would never be afraid again with laudna at her side a loyal hound her loyal hound to stay forever to curl into her bed and keep her - well, not warm, but safe. she could be made useful like that, wicked teeth around a wicked throat, wicked hands bent to imogen’s purposes, whatever they were. and all with a pretty ribbon around her neck, imogen’s ribbon, which was the whole point.

imogen’s eyes were almost as dark as her own, when laudna dared to look. she knew she must be flushed, because Imogen’s hands covered her cheeks and she bent low, dragged her lips across the purpling skin.

‘could avoid your neck.’ imogen’s voice was low, quiet, dropping words as she was wont to do when focused, trusting laudna’s mind to put to all together for them both. ‘could - hold on - ‘s around here-‘

it was a shame to lose imogen’s weight, so carefully perched over her; it was a greater delight to see imogen trip in her hurry, swear, and go fumbling through her clothes for the leather of her harness. she held it up on one finger, questioning, and laughed when laudna clapped her hands together.

‘aren’t you clever!’

‘clever, maybe,’ imogen laughed. ‘i think it’s more like motivated but sure.’

she returned, magic flaring white in her eyes to steady the chair at her less than graceful approach. laudna curled her hands on a warm, soft waist, pulled her close with every bit of her want, however lacking she was in strength.

‘okay?’

‘very,’ laudna assured her, and sat up enough for imogen to slide the harness over her arms, buckle it tight. it didn’t fit quite right—slender as she was, imogen was far more broad, a glorious woman of muscle and soft fat, where laudna was largely bone. but for the purposes of this gentle night, it was more than enough. the tongue of the harness belts slid across leather and the metal of the buckles, cinched tight and tighter. the leather warmed under imogen’s hands, seeping into laudna’s skin. the smell of her, all around, inescapable.

‘don’t touch it,’ imogen told her when laudna stretched up a curious hand. her voice was a gravelled command that made laudna want to lay upon it, the harsh earth, all for her. ‘don’t - it’s perfect. you’re perfect. all mine.’ imogen grabbed her by the lines of the harness, yanked her up, brushed a teasing kiss to her throat that made laudna gasp, images of ropes and ribbons undone by a lash of possessive lightning. ‘mine, mine,’ she muttered, and did with laudna what she willed.

[desire-mona]

i would like to tell you about the time i laughed harder than i ever have in my entire life, to the point where i wasnt even laughing anymore and i was just crying. (warning it wont be funny i was just high)

so this was back in late 2022 when bo burnham's inside outtakes sorta recently came out, and i was hanging out w my friends. our niche bit that night was reciting a bit of the song microwaved popcorn whenever we were Not understanding what the other was saying, the part that goes "i put the packet on the glass (which glass?) the little glass dish in the microwave, i closed the door (which door?)..." etc. keep in mind we hadnt run the bit into the ground yet which is astronomically important. anyway.

i was at a point where my edible was Really hitting and i was having some difficulty forming sentences, so as i was stuttering through a word, i hear "i put the packet on the glass..." from next to me and i lose my everloving mind, whatever i was trying to say was completely out the window but of course im still trying anyway.

now fun fact, whenever im high i have a primal need to send a friend a voice message, whether im alone or not, so i was talking thru what happened to my friend owen through still uncontrollable laughter. as i was explaining, i was waving around these two sticks of pocky because i talk w my hands of course. i looked over at my friend who was aimbot locked in on that pocky, like starbucks cake pop to cookie levels of locked in, so naturally i was like "and _____ wants my pocky sooo bad rn". after like 5 seconds, with the most amount of effort to talk as possible, she said "no i just thought they were chopsticks and i was wondering where you got chopsticks." which completely reset all of the progress i made with not laughing and almost made me pass out.

here was my twitter thread to commemorate the occasion

[nicegaai]

im attempting my fic reread today. im announcing this bc i will be liveblogging to keep my morale up, NOT THAT anyone cares but i personally need this, like ill only commit to do the thing if theres an imaginary audience holding me accountable. & i like to have fun :3

anyway. captains log, its a beautiful sunny july weekend. i just finished my morning coffee, and, i am dreading this so much. i dont like rereading my own writing but i shall get over it. ok here we go.

Þetta Reddast vagueblogged directors commentary edition

Ch 1:

*opens fic and starts convulsing immediately* god i wish i smoked weed rn. i cannot chill out ever for the life of me

My Mission For Today Is: to remember what plot threads I’ve left hanging so I can resolve this story properly. And also try n remember where the flow is going. I have the end plotted out, I just am a little lost … it’s been a while :-(

------------

Abrupt beginning!!!! I’m not mad because I have . I HAD. Almost no writing experience when I started this. it isn’t ideal but I refuse to be one of those fanfic writers that starts rewriting early chapters without finishing the last ones. Ive never seen one of those types actually finish a longfic. …I’d already rather yap than actually read LMAO AHH

Oh this is worse than I remember. thats cool that s great ok alright *coughs up blood*

"20 somethings" WOW I really did not know where I was going with this when I started huh

LKJSDLKSJDLGKGDJSLDGJK ??? Who authorized this. Who let me cook. What the hell

I could write this better now. I could edit this into something beautiful. <- devil on my shoulder

FORGOT I WAS MAKING RICE BRB

"generously offered nothing to the exchange." wait STOPPPP. I’m so funny

GRAMMAR ERROR DETECTED why is there two periods. I’ll be coming back to fix that …………………. :-(((

Fuck. This is a lot. Marge Simpson Hiding Her Face dot Png

Oh this is stupid this is gayyy this is fukcinnn . Who fucking did t his. What was wrong with me,. This is so good actually. what was i ONNNN. 

Im gonna throw up and I don’t know if thats like/. A complimentary thing or if im just cringing that hard . Im feeling emotions. I love my OTPs..OT3~5? I love them so so much

Ok as much as im like “eww bad writing” this is .. dare I say, rly good in places. Not to suck my own dick but maybe all hope isnt lost and imposter syndrome is an illusion

Grammar mistake #2. Goddddddd. they should ban me from the archive for this

EMILLLLL EMIL EMIL EMIL HIIIIII BABYYYY EMILLL I LOVE UUUU AWWHUUGHH everyone clap for my bewoved baby bruvver right FUCKING now

Urghhh gritting my teeth… Im fully expecting the flow of events to start not making any gd sense. There’s no way this came together the way I hoped in my head and .... For real I was never able to read this all the way thru. this is my first time, lol. and it was all disjointed on the authorial end to say the least. Im scared T-T

Jlxjvklsdkjfsjlkdkjlsjklkljzsdkjlgaskljdgjklasljkgdljkasljkdgjklasjlkdgljkaskljdgjakl?????????? 

Im not liking the ratio of dialogue to whatever the other stuff is. scene-setting I guess. prose maybe. i could have dragged this out way longer... By which I mean made it a more satisfying read. But WHATEVER !!!! 

TIMO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TIMOOOOOOOOOO NUMERO UNOOOO DO MUNDOOOOOO I really need to utilize him more. As soon as I finish this fic I need to write a Timo POV spinoff where he gets cancelled on furry twitter for proshipping in real life

Hmmmm chapter ending didn’t hit as hard in practice as it did in drafts. Oh well. God damn that was a lot to happen in one chapter LMAOO???

OH SHIT MY RICE IS STILL COOKING —— 

[lowlaif]

Konpeito

never seen a star up close.

kinda wanna eat one.

and no, not one of those starlets hanging out in ridiculously overpriced LA villas - now finally available in "sustainable" minus an ecological footprint rivaling the size of their range rovers. the owner will fly in from two towns over so they get there early for their yearly yacht trip and ill activate adblock so palantir cant pester me with 50-euro airline ads to the maldives because shit, money is going to be a bit tight this month

i want to eat a star. actual heaps of gas and space dust and heat and whatdoiknow, im not a scientist, id rather not belie my words by googling the exact chemical configuration of something thats just bright and pacifying to me, something thatll melt on my tongue. 'm not even gonna chew. just gonna swallow it. the way i ate chocolate as a kid because relishing in something meant enough time for it to be taken away. the way i drink medicine because - if you gulp it down really quickly, it doesnt have time to taste bitter: anything can be honeyed milk if you clench your teeth hard enough

did you know thats what galaxy means anyway? milk? i wonder what galactical honey would be, then. whether id think its sweet or spicy, whether id like the taste or want to spit it out. if itd go down with well-rounded corners or lodge itself into my throat and stay there. fishbones. i also wonder whether astronauts ever feel scammed when they set foot on the ISS and realize theyre not going to bear witness to a sky made out of sparkling lights and silver threads and golden spots and rainbow clouds but rather just a sea so inky black it's going to make breathing difficult not just by lack of oxygen alone. earths much too reflective for any other luminescent object to be visible to the naked eye, ive been told, hence why youd just be looking at a planet so bright it surely hurts to stare at it, and i wonder what it feels like, being up there and gazing down only to be blinded when youre so used to looking up and squinting?

im homesick thinking of kids drawing earth into the upper right corner of their drawings. i dont actually know if theres stars up there though everybody tells me those pinprick lights are, and i cant breathe when im busy trying to figure out what exact level of depression the stale air around me tastes like. but something in my brain clicks when i think of shiny things and theres no empirical evidence that grabbing the sparkly stuff up above my head wont cure me so i want to, i want to, i want to. wanting always boils down to sinking your teeth into it and ive filed my canines far too often to fear the force of my bite now

people dance on the moon and i mimic their steps in my bedroom and though these are just small steps i dont know the names of the poor sods stuck on the ISS either, even though there's only been like 500 of them and they're all way better at living life than i am. my hands ghost over where i instinctively know the light switches of my flat are and wonder if up there somebody's got a nightlight, cheap plastic stars attached to their ceilings, one of those little projectors that put constellations on your walls. whether they ever have trouble sleeping and if yes, what the hell do they look up at then? who do they cast their wishes to?

never seen a star up close. never held one. but the concept is so familiar, so ingrained into whatever our shared consciousness is made out of, that i want with my molars. i itch to keep it in my tummy so it keeps me warm on the cold days and i only trust what i see so i want to look at it until my retinas burn, until the sound of the big bang echos in the confines of my brain. itll drown out all other unwanted thoughts and itll sing in the genetic make-up of my descendants long after my neighbours cant hear me sing in the shower anymore. ill cup my palms and pray into them. begging is easier when youre in position and im on my knees and i swear ill never run out of things to whisper to the radiant little ember in my hands because it is beautiful and because i like shiny things and because stars have always made us look up at them and

When I finally get my teeth on it and swallow it whole I'm sure a piece of the star will get lodged in my throat like. fishbones. in a last-ditch effort at vengeance. I'll spend the rest of my life attempting to choke it back up.

"I made it with love," I'll say after I finally managed to do so.

"Careful, it's hot."

[stayxlix]

(only for answering when ur ready!! <333)

the greedy coconut council has asked for a small teaser 😞 whatever we get, we will receive with love!!

- 🍄💞

hi my love💕 okay so i totally thought i was prepared to respond to your ask the moment i saw it..but then, i realized i wanted to make it extra special for our beloved council president by including a couple spoilers instead of just one…which meant i had to wrap up a scene first and thattttt is why it took me so long to get back to you.🥹 lol im so sorry to keep you waiting so long but hope this gives you a taste of what’s coming in the next chapter!!🤭 your excitement for the story means the world, and i can’t express how much i appreciate you hanging in there with me.<333

definitely some spoilers ahead so read on at your own risk.. (no major warnings though aside from the usual theme/plot elements). i hope you enjoyyyy🤗💕

1.

Felix had always been able to divide fear into two distinct entities.

The first was immediate, tangible. The kind of fear he had grown accustomed to. Like an old, unwelcome companion. The kind that crept beneath his skin when he could no longer ignore hunger’s gnawing ache. When he observed the hollow eyes of his companions after scouring the barren landscape, only to return empty handed. It was the frigid air that seeped into his bones during long winter nights, when he was reluctant to close his eyes for fear that he would not open them again. The kind that set his pulse racing when footsteps echoed too closely in the darkness. 

The second was deeper, a phantom kind of fear that stained the recesses of his soul. It was a desperate gasp for air in the suffocating grip of hands that devoured the weak. The cool touch of steel against skin that bore the marks of a merciless world. It was fear in the phantom weight of invisible chains that had once coiled around his neck—chains wielded by demons from a past that still clawed at the fragile barriers of his sanity. It was the dread that he would wake up one morning to discover a void where seven—no, eight souls had once stood beside him. To find his humanity stripped away again, replaced by the savage instincts he had once fought so hard to overcome. 

The kind of fear that crept into his dreams belonged to the second category.

Nearly six hours had slipped away since the first glimmer of morning light, when you had woken Felix from the nightmare.

"Felix,” your voice—your real voice—not the distorted echo from his nightmare, had called out. Clear and reassuring, summoning him from the depths of his own subconscious. 

“Felix, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

His eyelids shot open, pupils dilating wildly as they struggled to adjust. A sharp gasp pierced the stillness as his body surged forward. Disoriented, his hands instinctively sought you out as he struggled to untangle the threads of the nightmare from reality.

"It's okay,” you whispered, your fingers gently gripping his shoulder. "You're safe."

You’re safe, you had said. And those words, while meant to be comforting, had almost caused Felix to laugh. At the absurdity of the idea that he could ever be tormented by a nightmare involving his own safety, his own harm.

His head lifted, glossy eyes still clouded with the remnants of fear. Yet, relief began to glimmer within their depths. Because your lips were not stained red. There was no blood-soaked knife clutched in his hand, no imaginary blade pierced through your chest. 

Felix drew in a shuddering breath, reality slowly stitching itself back together. Piece by piece, thread by thread.

You watched him closely, concern dancing in your eyes as you tried to grasp the torment of whatever horrors he had witnessed in his sleep. And then you’d sighed, heavy with affection and a touch of sadness, before shifting closer. 

Your arms enveloped his shoulders and to his own surprise, Felix didn't resist your touch—though maybe he should have, given what his subconscious had just inflicted upon you. But he couldn’t find the strength to keep his arms from making their way around you in return, surrendering to your embrace and the solace it offered.

His head dropped to your shoulder and the tension in his muscles eased. Warm touch met cold, trembling skin. The physical contact was grounding—you were grounding. A lifeline anchoring Felix to the reality he so desperately needed to return to. 

He strained to listen until the steady rhythm of your heart found his ear. In the stillness, the sound grew and grew until it was the only thing he heard. Every beat was proof that you were real, breathing and alive. But as the moments stretched Felix began to fear that it might slow, that every beat might be the last before an eternity of silence, that he would look up to find a dagger buried in it once again and—

The air in his lungs became thin, his grip tightened involuntarily, his fingers dug into your back—“I couldn’t do anything," his voice rumbled low, muffled by the fabric of your shoulder. And he didn't even know what he was saying but the words had come out trembling, as if the nightmare had lodged itself in his throat, constricting his vocal cords. 

“It’s okay,” you hushed, your lips grazing his ear in a soft caress. “It’s just a dream,” you repeated, “It can't hurt you."

But it's not about me, he thought. It's not about me, it's not about me. Yet it remained a silent confession. Because he could not bring himself to tell you the real reason the nightmare had left him so shaken. A quiet truth that hung heavily in the air, tethered to the ghost of the gruesome image of you that still clung to his mind.

With a gentle tug, you encouraged him to join you in lying back down. Felix hesitated, his gaze falling toward the amber light painting the cave’s entrance—a reminder of the world beyond, of the harsh reality waiting outside. But you cupped his cheek and with a tender smile and the quiet utterance of his name, you convinced him to stay. 

Your bodies melded together against the uneven contours of the cave floor. Your fingers threaded through his disheveled hair, tracing the curve of his scalp with each gentle stroke.

Another hour might have unfolded as you clung to each other in silence, but it never would have been enough. Time slipped away, ignoring Felix's silent plea for it to slow.

When the rest of the boys began to stir, you shared a silent glance and despite his obvious reluctance for you to withdraw, slowly, gradually, you did. Your fingers left Felix’s hair and his hands slid away from your back. He let you go, his eyes followed your retreat, and the ache in his chest returned at full force.

You reclaimed your original spot a few feet away, stretching as you covered a yawn. Your casual expression revealed nothing of the profound moment—the profound night—you had shared with Felix. A night of stolen intimacy, waiting to resurface again in the quiet moments when the world turned its back.

—

2.

Together, you began to break off the dead branches. The brittle material snapped easily underneath your grip, the silence interrupted only by the sharp cracking of wood as you worked. But your fingers stilled when you caught sight of that thin bracelet adorning Minho’s wrist. The trinket glimmered softly in the fading light. Its delicate beauty contrasted sharply with your surroundings, reminding you you once again of the life you had left behind—the privileges and sorrows intertwined in your past.

You studied the intricate design and elegance of that gold piece...so out of place.

Why wear it out here, where its value could mean a death sentence?

Lost in the depths of your thoughts, you didn't notice the pause in Minho's own movement. His fingers wrapped around a branch while his gaze bore into you, even as yours remained fixed on the bracelet.

In that moment, a daring impulse seized you. Screw it, you thought. The seething hatred you held for District 9 and the memories it carried ran deep, yet a peculiar sense of relief washed over you in the knowledge that Minho might understand in a way that the others couldn’t. And for the briefest instant, you allowed yourself to wonder if perhaps Minho shared the same longing for someone who understood.

Screw it.

“If I hadn’t already known you were from District 9,” you said softly, “that would confirm it.” You brought your eyes from the bracelet to meet his gaze as you resumed your work, snapping another branch.

Minho’s own eyes tinged with something darker than nostalgia as he let out a dry chuckle. “There's no sob story to it, if thats what you’re wondering. No lost loved one, no tragic incident. It's just a piece of metal.” There was a sense of finality in his tone, an attempt to seal off the conversation, maybe. But your intuition sensed the unspoken pain behind his words.

“If it doesn’t have any meaning,” you pressed, “then why wear it? Isn't it dangerous? Valuable things like that..I’m sure people would kill for them out here.”

Minho’s eyes flitted away, as if trying to decide whether or not to continue. “It did belong to my mother,” he admitted, “but I don’t wear it for her. She was a cruel women and she probably still is. I have no love for her memory." His gaze met yours again, firm and resolute. “I wear it because it reminds me of why I left.”

—

3.

"If your father finds you before you reach Miroh," the man stated, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly whisper. “If the rebellion fails, he will kill them all. And he will save that one," he jerked his chin in the direction of Felix's sleeping form, "for last."

Your heart tightened with fear at the implication. "If you love that boy, tell him.” The man's eyes bore into yours, urging you to understand the gravity of his words, “even if you think you may love him, tell him. Before it is too late."