#hellooo tumblr its been a while again

[mukiout]

I have been reminded of tumblr. Here, have Mikey doodles I posted on Twitter :)

[rosedom]

AHHHH HELLOOO sorry i usually dont request much, haha this is actually my second request in all of my tumblr story ever but...i saw you decided to write for gaming and i just couldnt resist, i love your writing a lot and i just think its so immaculate hahaa. Could you write an scenario where male reader is stressed from work (imagine he has an important job like a doctor or something whatever you want is fine :)) because he has been working days nonstop, so much that his boyfriend is all worked up and horny for him so when reader comes back he finds himself straddled by him while hes begging for fucking? With cockwarming, breeding kink and cowgirl position. Could that be with Gaming, Lyney and Gorou? SORRY IF IM ASKING MUCH I DONT WANT TO BE A BOTHER😭😭 i just dont know how to request but thanks for reading all of rant. And again, thank you and sorry for bothering😔 have a nice day/afternoon/night!

"an unnamed player has invited GA-MING, LYNEY, and GOROU to play . . . an apple a day

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!male!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!characters, vaginal sex & riding, breeding kink + creampies, creaming (lyney), gratuitous praise + petnames .

A/N : aa u are never a bother !! i am SO SORRY this took so long for me to get to, omg . . . but i had sm fun with this (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Patient after patient after patient, each one with a more downright stupid trouble than the last. Your day had started with a young man, clearly fresh out of Millelith training, complaining of a tummy ache, of all things! He had clutched his stomach and moaned and groaned, and all you could prescribe him was bedrest. It’s not like you were going to waste medicine—medicine that some people needed—on someone who ached because he didn't eat fucking breakfast. 

The next patient was an older woman, here only for her biannual check up. You'd greeted her, said a sweet, “Good morning, madame,” but all she did was turn her snobby nose up at you and demand you not waste her time.

“Madame, you have a serious—” 

“I know, young man.” You had heaved a sigh, letting her boss you around for the length of her appointment before sending her off with the exact same specifications as last time: take vitamins, get ample rest, stop talking back to people just doing their jobs. (Though, that last one there was merely something you wished you had said.

Too bad the customer—in this case, patient—is always right, huh?)

But, by the end of the day, you wish, instead, that you had simply elderly after elderly; their disrespect pales to the absolute headache that the rest of your patients put behind your eyes, pounding at your skull—bam, bam, bam.

Wham bam-thank-you-ma'am, all throbbing incessantly behind your eyes and making you wanna hurl—except, god, you’re the fucking doctor, and who’s there to take care of him when he’s a little under the weather? You’ve got your boyfriend, of course—your perfect boyfriend, light of your life, apple of your eye, yet he’s home, and you’re here, and you’re bloody exhausted. 

“I need to go home,” you murmur—quiet, lest your own voice make you lose the last of your thin-threaded sanity—, already stripping yourself of the itchy scrubs you wear during the long days. 

“But sir—” the nurse asks, meak, but her voice is still too loud, too shrill for right now. 

You huff. “I’ve worked for fourteen hours.” The tired gruff to your own voice makes you cringe. You can feel the way it tumbles from your chest, rattling you, your overly sensitive eyes and brain and head and fuckin’ everything, at this point. “Refer to the doc on duty, now.” 

The nurse nods, once. “Have a good night, doctor.”

You bid farewell—a kind apology with a promise to make it up to them, to bring them coffee, maybe, or some cookies—, and you take the slow walk home. The sky is dark and the fireflies are out, the gentle glow illuminating the path. With nothing but your own thoughts and the night to accompany you, you feel your headache gradually ease. It throbs, still; but each bump in your skull is gentler, now: it’s easier to ignore. 

Although the porch light is too strong—the lantern bright and attracting the nighttime bugs and moths—, the foyer of your home is dark. Your aching head is grateful for the reprieve—for the silence that envelops you in totality the second the door clicks quietly shut behind you—, but something other than tiredness pulls at your heartstrings: your sweet boyfriend, clad in only a shirt of yours, toeing into the entryway. 

“Honey?” He wipes the sleep from his eyes, softly smiling at you. “Hi.”

“Ga-ming, honey—” honey, because Ga-ming unabashedly stole the pet name from you, first, “—you didn’t have to stay up for me.” 

As if on cue, his jaw cracks open in a yawn: this, you do not need the lights on to see. Your heart aches with your head, knowing that he had stayed up just for you. “Honey,” you repeat, sliding off your jacket and stepping up to him. You take his waist in your hands, bunching up the shirt he stole from your closet.

“Quit with that,” he murmurs, tilting up his head for a soft kiss. You grant it; but when you go to pull back, to keep the kiss gentle and chaste, Ga-ming presses forward, darting that little tongue out to lick at the seam of your lips; his hips, too, come bumping against yours, pressing into your thigh, pant to skin—

“Ga-ming?” you repeat, breath leaving you in a low huff. “You’re—” bare. 

Utterly, wholly bare: an expanse of warm, slick skin against your clothed leg. “‘m ready,” he mumbles while he takes to mouthing at your throat. His lips soothe you, somehow; it’s a reprieve, a stark contrast, to the pounding at your skull. 

“Ready?” you whisper, tilting your head back, letting your hands guide the steady roll of his hips onto your lap. 

He nods. “Ready for you,” he enunciates as he softly whines. 

Ga-ming—your Ga-ming—, your boyfriend, your love and light of your life: right here in front of you, on you, all needy for you, offering himself to you, wholly ready for the taking. 

“So please,” he continues, his cock dragging heavy across the seam of your pant; “fuck me.”

“Oh, honey,” you murmur; then again, an “oh, honey,” because you’re still half-dressed up in your clothes—though they’re only soft and bland, made to fit under the rough scrubs you had abandoned at the office—, and Ga-ming is naked save for the shirt draping across him, the low hemline covering the absolutely sinful way he grinds down. It’s a dirty move, a down, down, down that gives his sensitive cock friction against your pelvis. 

“Please, please, ‘m ready, I said—” his words abruptly drop off, a high cry in his throat that sends him to hide his overly-warm face in your neck. His skin burns against you, a feverish-hot that makes you chuckle, makes the throb in your head go away, just-so. “I said I-I was ready, so, please!”

You coo, quiet, bumping your hips up once. The jerking motion makes him cry out, but he manages to keep himself upright, right-side up but entirely unmoored on your cock. “Go on then, little lion. Take what you need, yeah?”

Whimpering a quiet, “Y-yeah,” he begins riding you, slow, steady—but slightly off-balanced—rolls of his hips that makes him whine, makes you groan low n’ deep in your chest. You let your hands rest on his hips, the fabric of his shirt falling over your wrists, and gently guide his motions. Once you’ve helped him establish himself, he begins riding you harder, more desperate.

Silent tears—though, are they truly silent, loud as he is moaning out for you?—dribble down his cheeks, falling to his shirt and soaking the collar of it in salty evidence of his abject pleasure. His abdomen is tensing and relaxing and tensing and relaxing again, all in a rapid loop, in and out and in n’ out, and then there’s a fucking bulge right below his navel when he sinks down hard n’ deep on your cock; and you’re sent over the edge at the sight, moaning through your teeth as you fill Ga-ming up with hot, sticky cum.

“Oh, oh—” he cries, grinding down harsh to get all your cum in as deep as possible, deep ‘nuff to breed him— “bred me, bred me so well, oh—” You groan at his desperate babbling as his thighs jerk around your hips, just before they give out on him entirely. He falls bodily into your chest, heaving through his own orgasm as weak mewls tumble from his prettily parted lips. Each sound is smeared into your throat while you laugh, light and breathless, jostling his overly-sensitized body and making him flinch. 

“Sorry, honey.” You kiss at his temple, and, the whole while, his small cunt is left to unconsciously milk your cock, left to assure that loud, insecure part of his brain that he’s wanted, that he’s bred all nice n’ full because he is loved. You’re long done, now, but the undulations make your body warm, soft, safe—just like Ga-ming is, comfy in your lap and wholly protected. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head against you, nuzzling into your throat with a heavy sigh. “You don’t have—hafta thank me,” he mumbles, a lick at your Adam’s apple to seal the deal. “I wanted ta.”

Tucking up the blankets around him, you grin. “Then can you warm my cock, lil’ dragon? Just for me?” You run your fingers lightly up his clothed spine, delighting in the shiver you can feel, one that runs the length of your cock as he’s snug on it. “Since earlier was all about you?” You raise the end of your sentence in a lilting tone, meant to tease, and Ga-ming huffs at you. 

And, n further retaliation, he clenches around you; the soft squeeze—all wet n’ warm, smearing your own cum across the base of your cock and leaving the mess of both of yours to dribble down the minute space between your bodies—forces you to calm your breathing, to take in the delicate scent of what is undeniably Ga-ming mixed with the smell of your own shirt, your own cologne. 

You laugh, then. “‘m sorry,” you say again amidst giggles, ones you’re careful you confine only to your upper chest lest the movement be too uncomfortable on both of your oversensitive groins. 

He doesn't reply, snuggled up comfy on your lap and stuffed full of your cock n’ cum both. Instead, he only noses into your neck further before his breathing steadies, lulling you to sleep, too.

It’s in your final moments of consciousness that you realize your head no longer hurts. 

(You suppose you now have the evidence that, yes, an orgasm is sufficient enough a cure for headaches.)

Under Lyney’s palm, a small floor lamp clicks silently on. The light is admittedly dim, but, to your sensitive eyes, the bulb is blinding. You cringe and cover your eyes; but it only serves to shield you slightly, because you’re still upright in the foyer, and your body is rather weak. “Lyney,” you tiredly murmur, lifting your palm just enough to see the ground lest you trip. 

You bump into him, laughing lightly, but his worried hands jump to your arm. “Hey—”

“I’m okay.” You’re quick to calm him, placing your free hand on his in a tender gesture as you make way to the living room. “Just a headache, ‘s all. Ya shouldn't have stayed up f’r me.” Earlier, it hurt to even think; but here, with him, the pain is easy to ignore, in the face of his own self destruction.

He grumbles at you, though, says something you can’t quite catch and drops his hands, pads over to the lamp to flick it off. The return of darkness is soothing. 

He smiles at you, then; or, at least, you think he does. It’s difficult to see in the dark, and you can’t strain your eyes without hurting yourself. “I wanted to!” He takes three long strides before he’s standing in front of you, draping his arms across your shoulders. The position makes his (your) shirt ride up on his belly, and— ”I missed you, y’know,” he murmurs, suddenly all soft n’ deep, looking up at you and bumping his forehead against your chin. “A lot, really.” 

“Lyn—” 

He quickly silences you with a kiss. Against your lips, he pulls back, murmurs, “I missed your cock, especially.”

Laughing against him, you lean up ‘til he can no longer reach you. He pouts at you when you reply, faux-snark, “only my cock, huh?” Your bottom lip juts out—a mirror of Lyney’s own, a magic trick of his you took for your own; it’s a devilish trick, one you play right alongside puppy-dog eyes you know he’s soft to. “How cruel.” 

He huffs at you, pulling you down by the collar of your shirt to kiss the mirth off your lips. “I was tryin’ to be seductive,” he grumbles, knocking against your chin and beginning to push you backwards into the living room. “But nevermind!”

You want to say, “Hey, now:” disagree with him and keep on pouting and go, “hey, hey, hey,” all offended, but the backs of your knees come into contact with the edge of the sofa, and you’re well and sufficiently distracted from that idea.

“Sit,” he gently commands you—merely the illusion of choice—, giving you no choice in the matter with the way he’s pressing you down into the cushions. You go easily; you sigh in relief when the softness begins enveloping you—a pillow’s snug right in the middle of your back, and you briefly wonder if Lyney had planned this. He murmurs, “there you go,” quiet n’ soft, and you’re taken by the way this man gives to you. 

He wears his heart on his sleeve, truly; except, right now, the sleeve is yours (just like his heart belongs to you and yours to him in turn), and it's bare, and so is the expanse of his long, pale thighs, the hem of his boxers peeking out beneath the shirt. He stands in front of you, between your legs, makes sure you’re down and that you’re gonna stay down, but your eyes aren’t really tired, not anymore, staring at Luney—your Lyney—before he huffs and sits bodily onto you, straddling your lap with his knees sinking into the cushions on either side of you.

“Lyney,” you murmur, reaching out to take hold of his thighs. The position makes the shirt rise up on his belly, exposing the soft, rippling muscles there; but, in the dark, all you can go by is what you feel against your own stomach, his bare skin pressed to your thin shirt. “I was kiddin’, sweetheart.”

“I know you were,” he snaps at you, mean-like, but he brings his arms around your shoulders all sweetly and nuzzles into the side of your head. “But I wasn’t. I—I really did miss you; and your cock. If you—if you wanna, of course.” 

“Of course I want to, Lyn,” you mutter, tilting your head up to kiss beneath his chin. “I’m just a little tired.”

“A little?” He huffs, again, before sighing. “Just—let me do the work, alright? I’m already...” he pauses, tilts his head to the side, breathes in and out sharply.

You hum at him to go on. 

“‘m already prepped.” Oh. 

“Oh?” You grin, bringing your tired arm up to cup his cheek. He leans into your palm and his eyelashes flutter, brushing against your skin. “Go ahead then, sweet thing.”

And go ahead he does, smiling into you before he abruptly leans back ‘nuff to chuck off the shirt. You whine, say, “hey!” but there isn’t any bite left on your tongue when Lyney starts tugging his boxers down, too. He’s impatient, pulling at the seam and groaning curses at the fabric—as if it’s the damn boxers’ fault that he’s in a position that prevents him from taking them off. 

He relents, tilting this way and that and finally—after painstaking minutes later, ones that, under no circumstance, should be arousing, but the anticipation, the wait: it all makes your dick chub up in your own pants—Lyney’s left naked in your lap. The fabric hangs off his foot, and you reach down to tug it the rest of the way off for your sweet boyfriend as he busies himself unbuckling your own belt, loosening the tough leather enough for your pants to droop and enough for him to reach a hot hand into your briefs. 

“Eager, huh?” you tease, lifting your hips—and, subsequently, him—to let him get your dick out of your pants. Neither of you bother pulling down your own pants, not after Lyney spent so long on his boxers alone. He doesn’t dally. “My sweet Lyney.”

He sighs, again—he’s rather dramatic tonight; but, then again, when isn’t he? It wouldn’t quite be your Lyney without some theatrics—, spitting into his palm and lathering up your cock with it while he makes to straddle you more fully. “Thought you were tired,” he grumbles, hovering his, indeed, wet n’ slicked up and entirely prepped cunt over your thick cockhead.

“Mhm.” You set your hands on his plush thighs once he hooks the head of you into his loosened hole, groaning low and pleased in your throat while he softly whimpers at the barely-there stretch. He prepared himself well. “But when you’re lookin’ so pretty for me, I can’t help being wide awake. Wouldn’t wanna miss this sight for the world.”

With your eyes now adjusted to the light—and, oh, you consider how the throb of your head is a bygone memory now—, you can see the way his cheeks darken just-so, puffed up in exertion as his groin meets yours. You’ve got your cock stuffed up balls-deep in him, and he leans into you once he’s fully settled. 

He moans, less out of outright pleasure and more out of total contentment, comfy and warm on your lap as your arms knead at his thighs. His arms squeeze around your shoulders, and he quietly asks, “Gimme a minute.”

Nodding, you simply bask in the steady heat of him, letting him adjust and recognize that, yes, you’re home, now, and you hadn’t really left him at all. “I missed you,” you murmur rather suddenly, your voice quiet but still stark in the silence of the night. “Thought about you durin’ my shift.”

“You did?” His voice is rough but wispy, a little out-there and entirely gone. He’s slipping into that mindset he always does when he’s left to warm your cock—regardless of if it were by his volition or your own—, but he begins to subtly grind his hips against you, mewling at the hot sparks of rapture from his cock rubbing just right against you. 

“‘Course I did,” you continue, moving your hands to his hips instead to help move him along. His arms tighten around you and he moans directly into your ear.

From then on, it’s quiet: quiet, that is, save from the obscene slick noises of the lube Lyney used to prep himself earlier with his own slick, your pre-cum mixing up and making a mess of thick liquid between both of your thighs. His moans are barely audible, these soft, gentle lil’ uh, uh, uh’s punched out of him with each tender grind down. 

You think, even, that you’ll both cum like this: quiet, nothing but the sounds of your connection and heavy breaths, moans, groans as you fall over the edge. But then Lyney starts bumping his groin against yours even harder, grinding down deep on your cock and rubbing against your full balls, and he starts babbling for you to “breed me! Please—”

“I-I’ll breed you,” you groan, leaning your head back into the sofa cushions and chasing your release, chasing the release you both want, the one he wants so desperately stuffed up deep inside him. “Gonna fill you right up, just like you want, sweetheart.” 

He babbles more—a mix of syllables and words, more pleas for you to breed him—until he’s silenced by his own high-pitched whine, cumming around you and slathering you in creamy-white. The steady clench and release of his cunt forces you to your own end, thick cum slowly leaking out from the edges of his cunt and your cock. (You can hardly tell what’s your leaking cum and what is his own.)

“Thank you,” he mumbles, already beginning to doze. “Th’nk you:” quieter, more muddled against your ear.

You grab the throw you have across the sofa’s armrest, rucking it up around the two of you; you cocoon Lyney safe in your arms and on your softened cock. He’s nodded off, now, and he misses your words: “You don’t have to thank me,” you say anyway, even if he doesn’t hear you, “I love you.”

The cum’ll be sticky, later, when you wake up; but for now, it’s perfect. It’s perfectly warm and entirely cozy, wholly snuggled up with the love of your life. Your headache, the stressors of the day—they’re all forgotten in his presence. 

You’re so, so glad to love him. 

“Hi, puppy,” you coo. The sound of your own voice grates you, but you ignore it to sweetly smile at your beloved. He stands there, motionless for a moment right there at the threshold before the foyer, until he shakes his head with a barely-there laugh. “Gorou?” 

He tilts his head to the side—this you can see, the silhouette of him in the moonlight—before he takes a tentative step forward. 

Then another. And another. Another, another, another, ‘till he’s standing in front of you and leans up to kiss your jaw. “Hi,” he repeats, voice ruff (hah!) and hoarse, a little too much so. “Missed ya.”

You tilt your head back to let him mouth at you, and your hands subconsciously come to clutch at his hips, and— “Oh, Gorou,” you mumble, pleasantly aghast, because your hands come into contact with bare, slick skin. “Pent up?”

With a quiet whimper, he tilts his hips forward, into you, pressing against the contact of your fingers on him. You slowly slide your one hand around, sneaking a large handful of his ass before you dip into his cleft, shuddering when your fingertip easily glides across his slicked, open cunt. 

“I-I wanted you, so bad,” he starts to mumble, shy, tucking his head into the meat where your shoulder meets your neck. Without any prompting, you adjust your stance, pressing your knee into his cock and making him jerk forward with another whimper high in his throat. “Oh!”

Slowly, his hips begin grinding—it’s a weak movement, testing, making sure you're really okay with this, right now. He moves unsure against you until you begin bumping your knee, letting his slick make a mess of your pant leg. “Go on,” you goad him on, soft, holding him snug against you. You can feel his cunt clench even through the fabric of your pants, a rapid rat-a-tat-tat against you that is oddly reminiscent of the headache you can feel begin to dissipate. “Take your pleasure, pup.”

He nods vehemently against you, beginning to hump as his tail swishes side to side, side to side, hypnotizing you just slightly. It’s hard to parse it out in the dark, but the shadow of it is undeniable behind him. Each bounce of your leg makes Gorou whimper, and he’s quick to crane his neck up for a kiss to muffle himself. You grant his request easily, but only for a minute; after, you gently part from him to murmur, so quiet that only he could possibly hear, those big, soft ears of his twitching as he strains, “What else do you want, honey?” 

“Want you,” he whines, grinding harshly once, twice. “Want you inside me, want you to breed me.” 

You didn’t expect that, but you’re a doctor, after all; it’s kinda in the job description to roll with the punches, so you do. “You wanna get fucked full of pups?” you ask, teasing and light, but Gorou’s mouth parts as a loud whine crawls out of his chest.

“Yes! Please.” Thick tears begin to drop from his eyes, saltwater dribbling onto the bare skin of your throat. “Now, now—breed me now,” he begs, and you coo at him, bringing your hands to curl into his hair, rubbing soothing circles into the base of one puppydog ear. 

“Patience, pup.” 

And, because he’s Gorou, and Gorou is nothing but a good boy, he nods, rapid-quick movements of his head, and begins to slow on your thigh. Heat shimmers low in your belly as he steps back from you on shaky legs, a wet splotch across your leg from his cunt. You bring a hand down, meaning to scoop it up off your pant, but your finger brushes two distinctly different textures: his natural slick, and fuckin’ lube. “Did you prepare yourself for me?”

“Y-yeah,” he mutters, tail tucking itself between his legs. You almost cringe at that, knowing he’s smearing himself into his own fur, but if he doesn’t mind, then you won’t either; besides, it’s hard to truly care when your boyfriend is so bashful in front of you. “I—I missed you, ‘nd wanted to be ready for you.”

The image of Gorou, ass up on the bed with four of his fingers stuffed up inside of himself flitters across your mind, makes your cock throb in your britches. Your erection was easy to ignore, earlier; but now it’s abject torture. 

However, it’s not nearly as torturous as it was for your boyfriend, and you know this. You know he didn’t cum, know his fingers are far too short to truly reach in deep and press against his g-spot, know his wrist can’t comfortably bend to jerk himself off and finger himself at the same time. So you coo, soft, “Sweet boy. Where’s your toy?”

“Charging,” he mutters. 

You grin at that: it’s perfect. “Can you go get it then, puppy?” 

With an audible swallow, he nods, rushing for your bedroom. You follow behind him, lethargic but so, so turned on; and while he’s grabbing the vibrator from the corner, you shuck off the rest of your clothes and plop yourself down on the edge of your bed. 

He must not expect you to have followed him, however, because once he turns around, he jumps, ears flattening to his head in embarrassment. You only laugh and pat your lap. “C’mere.”

Quickly—and toy in tow—, he shuffles over to you. He stands awkwardly in front of you for a moment before you murmur, “I said c’mere,” and tug him to straddle your lap. The position immediately forces his cock—slick n’ thick, out of its hood and throbbing incessantly—against yours, and he mewls helplessly for a moment, grinds once, twice again, before he grabs the lube to the side of you. 

You hadn’t even noticed it there, but now that he’s grabbed it, pointed it out, you feel other wet spots beneath you. He fuckin’ masturbated here, right on the duvet you both sleep under, thinkin’ about you and only you. You’re taking out of your musings when he slathers up your cock in lube, messy and sloppy, and then he’s rising, positioning you, and sinking right on down.

“Mm!” he cries out, swiveling his hips to take you in deeper, deeper, deeper. You groan at the lube-slick combination that smothers your cock in Gorou, Gorou, Gorou. “Breed me, breed me!” Each meak plea makes your cock pulse inside him, and he mewls at each throb inside him. “Please!”

“I got you, pup,” you murmur, your edge so close you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. “Just make yourself feel good, and I’ll breed you, okay? Okay, puppy?”

“Okay, okay—” 

You grin. “Good boy,” you say, and then he’s tumbling over the edge and bringing you right down with him. You groan into his throat, feeling the vibrations of his whimpers n’ whining moans as he’s getting thoroughly bred. Your hands ruck up his shirt to hold his sides and soothe him down from his high. “You did so good for me, sweetheart. Bred you just like I promised I would, hm?”

He weakly nods. “Thank you,” he mumbles, nosing at your throat. 

And, well. You’re bloody exhausted, and you promised to breed him, and he can’t keep on being bred if you pull out. You tell yourself you’re only upholding your promise as Gorou falls asleep on your cock, breathing deep on your lap: tell yourself that it’s the lingering tiredness that suddenly seems to hit you in full-force that keeps him warm and snug on you. 

Really, clean-up can wait. 

i got a lil' carried away on lyney's part ,, o(*^＠^*)o also, none of these were really cowgirl 'cos reader was sitting up for it . . . i couldn't think of how to have him lay flat in these scenarios LOLL

13 MAR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

[tmntxthings]

hellooo not sure if anyone still remembers me ?? cause its been a while but this is thegreat-aristurtle :-) i havent been on tumblr in a veryy long time and i deleted my old acc mainly because i wasnt super into rottmnt anymore </3 this is from my new account where i do not post at all and im only here to view things LOL

anywayy this is very random but i just wanted to come and say hi! i was talking 2 my friend about my old rottmnt x reader blog and got the urge to go back and see if i could remember the username... which i got from a fics recs list you made ages ago (i could not remember my own user for the life of me😭). very sweet by the way !! the search also came up with posts after i deleted my acc, where you + @.marwhoa + some anons were wondering where i was. i did Not realise i was being missed!!! 😭😭 the posts were from back in 2023 but i got hit with a wave of nostalgia and thought maybe i should reach out even if just to say hello, since i remember everyone being so sweet <3

there is a small chance my blog may return (i think im getting back into rottmnt? not sure) but it would have to be on a brand new blog without my old works </3

this is getting long so i will wrap it up here🙏 talk to you all soon (maybe??) :-)

omigosh hellooooo!!!! so so good to hear from you dearest aristurtle! You have been greatly missed!! I was so curious as to what happened, the mystery is finally solved c:

oh this is so exciting, whatever you decide ofc that is what will be but I’d love the chance to read your writing if u wanted to get back into it again!! thank you so much for reaching out!!! I rlly do hope to hear from you soon!!

@marwhoa !!!!!! XD

[spidertams]

SPIDERTAMS!!! omg i used to follow you on insta but i slowly started deleting all my socials except for tumblr (its quiet here haha) so it's been a while but im ‼️‼️‼️ so excited to have found you again!! I'm such a huge fan of your art, the colors & texture are just 🤌🏼 *mwah* and i love your character designs when you make ocs!! but anyways lol, just wanted to pop in to say hello, i hope life's been treating you well :))

OMG HELLOOO I am also more in tumblr than anywherelse these days too! It's just very nice here isn't it :) ahhh it made me so happy that you remembered me sldklkfd!! thanks for saying hello, you made my day!! thanks for the lovely words as well, I hope life is going well for you too :))

[raitonsfw]

Hellooo! How are your requests going? Do any of them interest you? You've probably been busy with the vday event and everything. I'm not trying to pry at all, just curious about your projects 😆

helloo hello! ❤️ sorry it took me some time to get to your ask, tumblr hasn't been loading correctly for two days now and idk why but i literally couldn't see any of my asks until now.

they're going well! currently im mapping out a nsfw nikolai gogol request and two nsfw nagito komaeda requests.

i'm v interested in writing all three of them, tbh! i adore writing nagito's personality (i literally hyperfixated on him when i fell in love with danganronpa a few months ago) and nikolai's a character i havent written yet so its new territory for me (i get really excited everytime i see a new character in my ask box lmao)

the only unfortunate thing is i haven't actually sat down to write them yet due to the v-day event; im still getting the hang of my time management and how exactly im supposed to balance everything.

i used to be that type of person where it'd take me months to write a chapter of a fanfic whereas now, i can write something within a day or two, but it takes severe motivation and im bit of a lazy person. 😂😂

i appreciate you for asking about them though, i'm always happy to talk about what im writing/planning if anyone ever asks! plots too lol.

i assure you those requests'll be up soon, probs in between my v-day event posts then imma open up requests again (in march mayhaps???) while i plan out my satosugu x reader series! ❤️

[solesurvivorpaigeargot]

Loving Stupid - Chapter One: Sanctuary [Fallout 4 Fanfiction]

HELLOOO Tumblr! Now that I’ve got this blog up and running, I wanted to do what I could to expand the exposure of my fic and get it around to new readers. While it’s already up on Fanfiction.net , it seems to me that the majority of the community prefers Ao3 or reading directly here on Tumblr. So, I figure why not post it over here as well? 

Though a heads up that this first chapter was first written entirely for personal enjoyment, and then a friend I showed it to encouraged me to expand upon the story cause they wanted to see more of the ship. XD It’s uh... lil spicy. Or lemony, depending on how old you are and how far back your fic vocab goes.

Story Title: Loving Stupid

Story Summary: Paige [Sole Survivor] and Hancock venture into the Glowing Sea in pursuit of a lead on the Institute, when a catastrophic equipment failure forces them to separate. 

Rating: MATURE

Content Warnings for this Chapter: Sexual content, drugs, alcohol, cursing

Content Warnings for story overall: Sexual content, drugs, alcohol, cursing, violence, blood, injury, needles, limb mutilation

Genre: .... erotic romance-adventure? IDK shit goes down and there’s some spicy scenes, but also a lot of character building and relationship stuff. I’m bad at genre assessment. Open to suggestions XD

.:_Sanctuary_:.

“So these are your digs, huh? … can't say it's my speed.”

“Not historical enough?”

“Nah, it's...”

Paige watched Hancock's face twist as he struggled to pick out what word fit his distaste, ghoulish features creating sharp valleys along fault lines in leathery skin while the shiny dark of his eyes appraised the home she'd built atop one of the empty foundations of Sanctuary Hills.

It wasn't anything special, wooden planks coaxed together into floors, walls, and roofing with nails and elbow grease. This was the only settlement where Paige had a place that was specifically hers, where she kept the little knickknacks and oddities she collected; all dutifully looked after by Codsworth-- ever dedicated to his task two centuries after it had been assigned to him. She'd given some life to the wooden bones of the shack, however; recycled fabrics became rugs and curtains with only mildly clashing patterns, and she even managed to cobble a number of worn out flannel shirts into a workable set of sheets for a double-wide bed that was, in truth, just a pair of smaller mattresses pushed together to pretend they were a queen size.

What could she say? She liked to sprawl.

Generators lit up Sanctuary at night with bare bulbs, and her little shack was no different. It brought yellow light against the dark, and reflected off a multitude of glass bottles, lined up on the shelves of a bureau she'd rescued, mostly intact, from the home of a long-dead neighbor. Whiskey, vodka, wine-- she jokingly called it her liqueur cabinet, despite the thing not having doors to lock the alcohol behind.

She'd done her best to make this a where place she could sleep soundly, when she was in the area. It was little more than a bed, a roof, and a lot of junk on shelves; insulated from the outside world with some sewn-together fabric scraps... but stepping over the threshold always made her feel like she'd entered a sort of... bubble. Not safe-- nowhere was safe-- but... quiet.

She could pretend, here.

“Comfortable.” Hancock decided, grousing out the word. “Damn near cozy-- you put this together?”

“With my own two hands.” She informed him; trust Hancock to find an issue with comfort-- then again, she couldn't blame him. Comfortable people had a habit of being complacent people, and they both knew that was where a lot of ugliness could happen... but his opinion didn't stop her from stepping inside and divesting herself of the pieced together armor that she layered over a set of somewhat over-sized army fatigues, reclaimed after clearing an old base of ferals. There was a wooden bin by the door for that stuff; she'd have to strap it all back on in the morning... but for now she was grateful to take a load off, starting with an enameled metal helmet.

“I've watched those hands beat faces to a bloody pulp. I didn't figure they could sew.”

She scoffed at him, rolling her eyes as she heard him trudge inside anyhow, metal door closing behind him, and set herself to the straps that kept her secured within the bits of metal and leather that frequently kept her alive on the road. Left arm first, a metal shoulder piece coming loose, and the whole ritual making her feel as if she were shedding skin.

She didn't tell him that she might have been a housewife a few centuries ago-- that was a different life. The idea that someone could live so cushy as to devote themselves to home-making and nothing else was a fever dream in this age, and while Hancock probably had enough chems in his pockets to attempt imagining it, she didn't feel like trying to paint the picture for him.

She didn't want to know what he'd think of her, knowing just how... comfortable she'd been.

“I'm a woman of many talents.” She snarked instead as another heavy piece of metal thumped into the bin, freeing up the shoulder beneath to roll and stretch. “Don't worry about getting used to it-- this is a one night stop. First thing in the morning, I'm seeing to the upgrades on the armor, and then back on the-- ah--”

Hands-- surprisingly strong hands despite withered skin that clung to spindly bones. She didn't know how that worked-- Hancock wasn't a big man, and the ghoulishness made her think he'd be frail... instead he'd hefted a flamer onto his back when he set out with her, and carried it from one end of the Commonwealth to the other without complaint. Finding those hands suddenly assisting with undoing the straps at her sides so that her chest piece could come loose was a surprise; simple and sure movements causing the scavenged military combat armor to come loose and slide forward. Without an anchor, it slid forward until the hard edge of the back plate caught on her neck and stopped it from simply falling to the floor. Meanwhile, Hancock's hands had slid in along her ribs, pressing firmly into the rough fabric and reminding her that they were, for the first time in a while, blissfully alone.

“I'm aware of that.”

Her lips pressed together-- a low sigh was expressed with his rough whisper in her ear. She swore he knew how much that got to her, despite her very deliberately not telling him. It was a struggle not to react, not to lean back as he reeled her in, those spidery hands easily finding their way upwards beneath the hanging breastplate and his chin perching on her shoulder. He'd pulled them together, his body against hers, and punctuated the move with a mischievous chuckle.

“Sometimes a little too talented-- doin' everything yourself, despite having a public servant waiting in the wings.” He teased her. “Let a ghoul help, eh sister?”

It wasn't entirely unexpected, nor unwelcome, but his eagerness was something that caught her off guard. She usually had something to say, something sly to come back with, but for some reason all she could focus on was the ticklish clutch of her gut as his fingers gathered up the material of her shirt in their traveling to her bust, squeezing fitfully enough to expose an inch of skin at her belly.

“Hancock--” She muttered, squirming slightly, but not in earnest. “C'mon, we've got the whole night--”

“That's right.” He agreed, but it was with an entirely different tone. One hand remained up, keeping her tight to him, while the other traveled down. The thin ribbon of skin that had been exposed was soon graced with the specific texture of his skin; rough, but not terribly so. Like callous, only it was all over; somewhat leathery and unique. His entire palm invaded through that opening, hard against her belly as fingertips sought out a path further south. “We've got the whole night-- and I didn't plan on wastin' any of it...” His fingers were ruthless once they found purchase, shoving past the tight fit provided by a belt she was wearing. “Did you?”

Her breath shuddered. No part of her wanted to tell him no-- the rush was enough to make her ignore the metal edge digging into the back of her neck, and forget how doggedly exhausted she'd been after their long trek here... particularly lugging her own weight in lead along the way.

In her hesitation, he'd gotten far enough to make a more intimate contact-- damnably persistent, like ivy finding the cracks in brickwork to wheedle its way in.

He pressed in against her, too certain to be deterred by straps and clothes. Barriers had been passed without any show of manners, knowing her well enough that if he was unwanted she would have thrown him off by now... and getting a sweet gasp as his reward.

“There we go.” His smile was evident in his tone-- no, not a smile, a grin-- a smug, shit-eating grin. She could imagine how it looked on his face, and knew he'd be wearing it for hours just to make her glare at him.

It didn't matter. Everything he'd done so far was just testing the water in his puckish, incorrigible way. Now he had her, and his wrist twisted as he worked that hand just a little further into her pants before slipping a fingertip against soft flesh. The motion was a sort of rocking of his hand, sliding the single offending finger down between sensitive lips before drawing back upwards with the tip pressed in, working up a little warmth in general and offering up a little tantalizing pressure to wake up the sweet spot for later, stroking her like that as his hips pitched against hers to turn her away from the bin next to the door and instead face her against the closed portal they'd entered through, reinforcing that he had her.

Without thinking, her right hand came out to brace against the door. Cold metal barely registered, just that it gave her something to push back against as he leaned in harder against her back, idly kneading her breast as he stroked her beneath restrictive layers of cloth and leather.

“O-oh... damnit, Hancock--”

“I was thinking fuck it, actually.” He smirked, still right by her ear for that quip before finally leaning back the necessary inches and releasing her breast to help her get her armor the rest of the way off, falling to the floor with a hard thud instead of getting placed in the bin. Pitching his shoulders back, hips pressed forward, grinding against her to advertise himself against her rump. “... just like this...” He added, losing a little breath as he suggested it, that free hand of his coming right back as if magnetically drawn, this time landing at the top of her hip and sliding upwards to expose a few more inches of skin-- his palm on her back, pushing with his surprising strength to encourage her to bend forward.

Bend over, actually.

She got his meaning, groaning softly as his stroking remained steady. She didn't resist the push, her hand shifting against the wall as her body dipped lower and her own free hand fumbled with the latch for her belt. The strip of leather resisted her, frustrating her fingers for a few agonizing moments as the sensation of his hand brought on another faint sigh, slipping against her with more ease as her body reflected her own eagerness; building with the anticipation. Then, finally, she managed to yank it just the right way for the latch to loose, the pressure of having his hand shoved in where it was such a tight fit relived, and further tugging releasing the subsequent button and zipper before they became obstacles... and before her hands became utterly uncooperative.

The loosened hem could be yanked down on his side, exposing more precious skin to the evening chill that crept in through the walls. Gnarled knuckles hooked on the hem, and fingertips got her underwear in the same dragging motion that demanded quick access. The lower she bent, the more he leaned against her, miming what would come in due time. It wasn't until he had her ass bare, pants and underwear drug down below the swell of her hips, that he finally pulled his own body back the inches necessary to attend to a few layers of fabric himself... but he didn't let off touching her as quickly. The hand that exposed her lingered, fingertips ghosting the sensitive skin just below the curve of her rump and sending a tingle across her skin, before his weathered palm pressed up and squeezed hard, his thumb sliding up to the top of her hip while his fingers rotated down. Finally, he finished up the groping with a light swat, chuckling behind her.

“Fuck you look so good like this...” He marveled, and she could hear layers of fabric moving against each other. “I just wanna wreck you.”

“Shut up and-- nnnnnnnh--”

She couldn't see him, but she felt him; hard and hot against her skin, pressed first between her thighs before he adjusted himself upwards. His finger's rubbing of her had paused, that hand simply anchored there as, from the rear, he worked himself against her, dragging the tip of himself this way and that until he found just the right angle to slick himself up with her excitement... and making her crave him in the process as she flexed her hips back towards him, trying to make it easier for him.

Somehow, some fucking how, she'd gone from exhausted to needy in the span of only a few minutes. It was the kind of eagerness that usually belonged to the young and dumb-- insanity she thought she'd left behind in her teen years, but he always found a way to draw it out of her.

She had no idea how he did that, but she never wanted it to change.

“Yeah?” His voice had dropped, the word barely differentiated from the heavy sigh it was carried out on. “C'mon, you can moan for me... no one's gonna hear you this time...”

More of him, pressing between wet lips-- and then more; there was resistance, going for it quick like this always meant it was a little rough, but it was the kind of sensation that left her gasping aloud as she went from craving that feeling of him to having him sink into her and remind her just how good it felt. Imagination, memory-- it always fell short, not quite living up to what it was in the immediate reality of the moment. Friction and heat, bound up in an intimate need-- just as addicting as any of the chems he slipped into her pockets whenever he thought she looked strung out.

Out of reflex, her jaw clenched tight, denying the urge to moan aloud and her body clenching around him instead. Both hands had applied themselves to the wall, and her breath shook as teeth ground together, resisting.

“Oh shit-- fuck-- if you squeeze me like that, I'm gonna...”

His hips bucked forward after a short draw back, the hand he'd been using to guide himself against her now finding its way to anchor at the crease that formed between her hip and her body as she bent against the wall, yanking her tight against him with the same motion before coming to a sharp stop. She could feel him inside, throbbing and thick, and the jolt made her jaw drop open for a short exclamation to escape her.

Buried, he began to rub her from the front again, abandoning the long strokes he'd used to warm her up and instead zeroing in on where she was most sensitive. Where his opening moves had all been about pressure with maximum contact, he changed tactics to only flick across her with the tip of his finger, instigating another tightening of her body as her resistance to making noise produced a shudder instead.

“D-don't--” She finally managed to murmur. “Oh God-- Hancock, you don't have to--”

This was a quickie-- an opener. She didn't expect this kind of attention; he always made up for it later, after a little Jet got him going again. This was usually the part where he took her by the hips with both hands and went to town, but instead he held her to keep them both tightly together, all while--

“F-fuck--” A whispered curse, kept lower than a murmur, followed by a greedy breath. He wasn't letting up, despite her telling him he didn't need to bother. She tried to push herself back against him, to antagonize him, but his fingers only tightened their grasp on the side of her hip as he leaned forward over her, ensuring that he was the one in control.

A defined clutch passed through her, centered at her core.

“Oh fuck-- mmmm--!”

“There you go... c'mon, let it out...” He coaxed her, rocking himself back in another short motion before jolting back into her again, letting out a guttural sound of his own as he did so. “Lemme hear you...”

It was an old habit to hold back, to grit her teeth and hold her breath-- anything to keep quiet. Her own fingers, once splayed open against the metal door, curled inwards into fists as the sensation built up, deep and desperate gasps getting drawn in through her nose as her jaw remained tightly closed, lips pressing hard against each other as she hummed and swallowed. Her head dropped down, his touch taking more and more of her focus.

Old habits were hard to break, but he was a new habit. One that liked to push at her old habits and see how long they'd stick.

Toes curled inside her boots, eyes closed without thinking. There was no thinking-- no, just her perception of him; the weight of his body against hers, the grip of his hand, and sound of his breath, all as her body underwent jolts that made her hips continue to try and rock back against his, one of her hands eventually lifting and banging back onto the door as the sensation turned briefly sharp, jaw loosing for a raw gasp between her lips and a guttural groan. “F-Fuck Hancock, you're gonna--- oh-- oh-- shit--”

“Rub you raw?” He completed the thought she was trying to articulate, drawing in a heavy breath of his own. His own hips rocked now, a minimal motion of a man that could barely help himself. “Wouldn't... wouldn't dream of it... just love the way you squeeze...”

The rocking changed things, introduced that delightful sensation that scratched the ineffable itch he'd aroused in her. Pressure and friction as he kept up his assault on her sensitivity made her knees wobble with a threat to give out, breath viciously driven out of her lungs in a single erotic moan.

“Fuck...” He murmured emphatically. “Sing for me babe... it's so pretty...” He encouraged her, pressing his face against the back of her neck as he kept a steady tempo. He was fully against her, laid over her back and abandoning his grasp on her hip to reach forward, those thin fingers of his stealing beneath the buttoned blouse of her fatigues and taking a demanding grasp on her breast; stalled only momentarily by the worn elastic band of her bra. The heel of his hand ground upwards at first, pressing in against her ribs, before he was pulling on her again, ensuring she remained anchored against him as he kept up the rocking motion he'd adopted over more conventional thrusting.

“Ah... ah shit... shit- shit-- J-John, oooooh... oh fuu...”

She lost the thread of why she'd been protesting in the first place. Her jaw fell open, and another moan came out; louder as everything began to come together. The movement, his insistent grasp, that very specific sense of fullness within her body and the craving it both satisfied and aggravated at the same time--

“Yeah?” He breathed against her ear. “You gettin' there, sweet thing? … good... I wanna feel it... And once you're over the edge, I'm gonna rail you until I burst.”

A thrill ran through her, like electricity that danced along her spine. Now that he'd articulated his intention, she wanted it, too.

“C-close...” She whimpered, nodding her head faintly. “J-just like that... l-little higher... rub a little higher... little circles around my-- oh- oh god- there- fuck yes-- there--!!”

Feverishly murmured coaching that directed his stroking where the craving was strongest sent her further than she expected to go, her head and chest dipping lower as her elbows bent and her forearms joined her hands in being braced against the door, a defined shaking running through her person as she went up to her toes and the rubber soles of her boots dug into the floor, further flexing her hips back in the desperation to have that sense of fullness as her body seemed to anchor itself on where they were intertwined. More than just laying open, her jaw stretched for her cry out with the rush.

His grip on her changed. He wasn't leaned over her anymore, but pitched back as both of his hands found their way to her hips.

God, she could feel him; the meeting of their bodies dominated her brain as she felt him throb within her shortly before he changed to much more active motions. There, again, was that surprising strength as he drew back and adjusted himself just low enough to begin taking her roughly, groaning between sharp breaths as his hips shocked against her rump with every thrust.

Her body was still squeezing, still rippling from what he'd just put her through, aware of the force in his every motion as he drove into her tightly clenched core.

“A-aah... aaanngh--!!”

A hitch, and his voice gave out for a more primal noise, his motions growing more hurried as she felt his nails digging into her hips. There'd probably scratches to attend to later-- not the first time. His breath juddered, followed by a gasp before it was held a moment. All at once, everything came to a halt, a shuddering swell moving up through his flesh that came shortly before a certain warmth spread within her; passed from him to her.

He claimed a sharp breath after, followed by a relieved exhale as his hands loosened. He didn't release her just yet, but he wasn't clutching quite so hard anymore.

“...shit that felt too good...” He muttered faintly as she tried to regain her own breath. One hand and forearm remained braced on the door, but the other had released to reach backwards for him, flexing her fingers to show she desired another kind of contact, and getting one of his hands in return for the non-verbal gesture. Once intertwined, she squeezed him, and let out a faint and almost girlish giggle.

“Too good...?” She quested, surprised he'd ever entertain the concept.

“Damn right.” He lobbed back, squeezing in return. “It's the kind of good a guy gets addicted to... Gotta find us some privacy a little more often.”

Don't have to tell me twice.

This was about the point where bodies needed to come apart; signaled by their hands drifting away from one another after that comforting squeeze... but that process was interrupted.

There was a knock at the metal door Paige was braced up against.

“General? Do you have a moment?”

… Preston, your timing is a disaster.

She recognized the voice in a heartbeat, and it was exactly the sort of person who had previously voiced his disapproval of her and Hancock's partnership... and he didn't even know about the more intimate details of said partnership. There was a shock associated to hearing his voice at this particularly compromised moment, one that made her face flush as she was excessively thankful for the solid door between them.

More thankful that he hadn't shown up a few minutes ago, when he might have heard a thing or two through that door.

Behind her, she more felt than heard Hancock's muted chuckle.

“I'm a little occupied at the moment, Garvey.” Paige answered back through the door; not entirely a lie. “Is it urgent?”

“Just a couple questions I'd like to ask, that's all.” Preston's voice answered back. “Security concerns.”

That was code for yes, it's urgent to me. Preston had been very particular about security ever since she assigned him to it. Making him wait would prompt more questions later, and possible lost trust with him and his group.

Despite very much not wanting to, it sounded like she was going to need to put her clothes back on for a little while.

“Just a minute, I'll be right out.” She informed him.

“Yes, sir.”

“Awee...” Hancock quietly cooed, easing himself away from her. “No cuddle time?”

Finally able to straighten up, she shot a look back at him that encouraged him to shut his face before she broke some part of it in lieu of his mostly missing nose... before cracking a smirk. “There's a bathroom behind that partition--” She directed him quietly, muting her voice to lower the chance it would carry. “No hot water, but it's clean.”

“Heh, ritzy.” Hancock smirked back. Looking at him, she was able to see exactly how ruffled his coat and blouse had ended up, with trousers only shifted just enough out of the way to get away with what they'd just done. He hadn't made any motion to arrange himself back into those trousers, though, appearing all too comfortable to just let it all hang out. “Is that your way to telling me to put it on ice? Cause if anyone needs cleaning up right now, it's you.”

He was right; she was a sticky mess between the thighs, and standing upright allowed for dripping between her legs. Usually she would have insisted on some clean cloth and water to manage that with, but at the current moment? She reached down and simply pulled pants and underwear back up, zipping, buttoning, and straightening both bra and blouse until it was impossible for anyone to know what they'd been up to by simply looking at her... and with only him aware of the specific nature of what was probably going to end up staining her undergarments.

“I'll make you clean it up, later.” She informed him playfully. “It's your mess.”

“Oooh... dirty.” He chuckled. “Don't threaten me with a good time.”

Her look hardened, making a motion at him that encouraged him to shoo-- the last thing she needed was to open the door and have Garvey catch a glimpse of her companion with his dick out. Hancock pouted at her, but ultimately obeyed.

With a sigh, she turned herself back towards the door, hesitated a moment, and then finally grasped the handle to push it open and head out.

Doing so was not unlike a splash of cold water to the face. Twilight was a good hour past, and the night sky was filled with stars without a single cloud to obscure them. There was a stiff wind tonight; enough to snap Garvey's trench coat against his legs and make the man pull up the swell of his scarf a little more to protect his nose and cheeks.

Going from the relative comfort of her little home-made haven, as well as the heat of her recent encounter, into the abrupt chill of the night with a sharp wind in her face could have only been more of a shock to the system if it had been raining.

As she emerged, Garvey looked back to appear in profile to her. The man was always at the ready, laser rifle held upright over his chest and his eyes brightly aware despite the dark of the night. Paige's shack was at the far end of Sanctuary; away from where she'd built housing for the other residents, as well as where she'd set up crops, power generators, and water. Looking down the slight hill her shack sat upon at Preston meant also seeing the lights of the settlement beyond him; the faint yellow glow of something that could almost be called a town as the back-drop to his silhouette and shining gaze.

“Garvey.” She greeted him by his last name; it felt more professional, what with him always insisting on calling her General since she'd helped him revive the Minuet Men and retake their old headquarters. “What can I do for you?”

“Like I said, I just had a few questions...” He answered, peering further up and towards the shack. She couldn't see his face; her abode featured no outdoor lights, and with the glow of the settlement behind him his features were cast in shadow. “... where's the ghoul?”

The ghoul. She could practically taste the disapproval on that one.

“Hancock is taking this chance to wash some of the wasteland out of his clothes.” She responded. “Is your security concern about him?”

“No, no, of course not. If you trust him, that's enough for me.” Preston assured her. “But, uh...”

“Out with it, Garvey.” She ordered sternly.

“I was manning the watch when you came back to Sanctuary, General-- I saw you brought back your power armor, and it looked like you were carrying a heavy load of supplies. I know you'd tell me if anything were coming for us here, but... I didn't see any of it go out with the traders, and that made me worry. So, I've gotta ask; do you think something nasty is coming up this way?”

She blinked. Preston thought she was stockpiling for an incoming threat. She almost wanted to laugh aloud, but couldn't manage it. Instead, she stepped down from her place above him on the hill, coming to stand at his side while still looking out at the settlement.

“No,” She answered him. “Nothing's coming here. I'm preparing for a journey into dangerous territory... I need to upgrade my armor before we head out, and we needed a safe place to rest our heads before we committed. I want every advantage we can get under us before we go.”

A pause. Whatever he expected to hear, that wasn't on the list.

“... General, you know all you'd have to do is say the world, and I'd--”

“I'm going somewhere you can't follow, Garvey.” She responded flatly. Of course he wanted to go with her, probably wanting to convince her to take him instead of Hancock. He considered himself more capable, more trustworthy; the better choice on all fronts.

She'd disagree with him outright, but Hancock also had a very specific advantage over Garvey that would leave him no grounds to argue on.

“I'm going into the Glowing Sea.”

Silence. The pause stretched out for several beats, no doubt as Preston processed what exactly it was she was saying.

“... I see. The armor will protect you from most of the radiation, and your companion is immune.” He observed. “... smart choice.” He added, begrudgingly, before asking, “But why are you going in there? Even with the armor, you're going to need to be carrying your weight in medicine to even have a hope of making it back alive...”

“It's important. That's all I can say right now.”

A month or two ago, she might have told him. Before getting involved with the Underground Railroad, before encountering a synth and the person they were trying to replace at the same time and very nearly killing the wrong one during the confrontation, before learning exactly how the institute dealt with people they didn't want to have around anymore... But now? There was doubt in her mind, about almost everyone. Was Preston really Preston? Or was he just another set of eyes and ears for them? If she mentioned a defector, hiding out in the Glowing Sea, would they somehow beat her to that defector and kill them?

She couldn't risk it. This was her line on Shaun, on her son. Right now, the only person she trusted was the one who was going with her; Hancock... and even he didn't know exactly why they were going.

Granted, he hadn't asked.

“... You're sure about this?” Preston quested quietly.

She scoffed. “... barely.” She answered back. “But it's the only way forward I have right now.”

She'd already decided on a direction. Her doubts didn't matter anymore.

“Then I suppose the only thing to do is wish you luck.” He sighed, turning to face her and taking a hand off the stock of his laser rifle to offer it to her. She, in kind, turned to him and took it, sharing a firm shake. “Whatever you're facing, if there's anyone who can survive it, it's you. You already provisioned?”

“Been buying out all the Rad Away and Rad-X I can find.” She confirmed. “Cleaned out every trader between here and Diamond City. Tomorrow morning I take all the lead I've collected and upgrade the power armor to withstand the radiation... and then we'll be suiting up and heading out.” She paused, withdrawing her hand from his. There was something else that had to be said; something she'd been hoping to save until they were on their way out, so there'd be no space to argue about it... but now was probably the kinder time to say it. “Garvey, if I don't come back--”

“You're coming back.” He interrupted.

“If I don't,” She pressed. “You'll be back in charge of the Minute Men. You can't hesitate from that. We've got enough supplies to last a day out there-- maybe two or three if we find a place to shelter that's not soaked in rads, like a cave or a pre-war bomb shelter that's somehow intact. If I don't come back to Sanctuary within that time? You need to take over properly and keep up the fight.”

He was quiet. He didn't like it.

“... I don't know if I can live up to what you've done for us, Paige.” He admitted, softly. “But... if it comes to that, I'll do my best by you.”

“... that's all we can do out here, Preston.” She affirmed in kind. “I know you're the man for the job.”

“Let's try not to find out.” He rebutted.

That time, she let out a faint laugh. “Don't worry.” She told him. “I'll be doing my best, too.”

__________

Chapter One: You are here Chapter Two: [hasn’t been posted to Tumblr yet, will add link when I’ve got it up... oor you could just go read the story so far on Fanfiction XD]

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider reblogging it to help me find a wider audience! <3

[wonwoonlight]

check in tag!✨

hellooo @chanberriees thank you for tagging me <3 hahaha its okay! dont feel embarrassed at least not with me💚

why did you choose your url ?

> it's wonwoo + moonlight :D my blog title has always been 'we under the moonlight' which is from got7's 3rd??? fanmeeting?? i think? so yeah i'd like to just mesh them tgt :D

do you have any sideblogs ?

> @starry-hannie in which i just pile up stuffs i've read just so my updates here wont get 'clogged' & its easier if i want to reread 🙈 tho i dont update it quite as often now bc i havent been in a reading mood in a while :/

how long have you been on tumblr ?

> a loooooooong time ago lol i used to look up dramione fics and a lot of other fics but i was never active and it's only recently that i am :D ((that said, i still do not know how to use tumblr properly))

do you have a queue tag ?

> nope! and, for the record, i keep my draft on ms words

why did you start your blog in the first place ?

> i've always been interested in writing tbh so i guess i kinda wanted to venture to tumblr tho it's only last year that i actuallly get to ~actively~ write

why did you choose your icon/pfp ?

> it's the ultimate superior wonu look nsdjnsjfb (plus i like the color scheme haha) i love it when he dresses like that so im still upset he only wore those outfit for like 10 seconds in gose

why did you choose your header ?

> i like the mood of it ^^ but also it's a subtle way to show i am also a blink bc it's a screen capture from stay mv hahah

what’s your post with the most notes ?

> uhh i think it's Wonwoo - Surprise which is surprising (haha) bc it was my first angst and my first fic that went pass 2k too i think? and i was SO sure it'd be bad but i still get notifs from it from time to time

how many mutuals do you have ?

> im... i dont know,,, i think 10 at most?? but only bc i have no idea how to interact here jsdfjhb and mostly i follow back ppl if they talk to me a few times haha

how many followers do you have ?

> 508..?? omg?? when did i reach 500 ajshdbshdb thank you so much guyss😭😭

how many people do you follow ?

> only 57 but again bc i have no idea how tumblr works and i just mostly follow either: ppl who posts abt svt gifs, writers that i like, ppl who interact a lot with my blog, or fic recs acc :D i dont mind following a lot of you tho i just dont know who to follow bc only a little interact a lot with me haha

have you ever made a shitpost ?

> a lot?????? if you consider me losing my mind over seventeen that is hahah

how often do you use tumblr each day ?

> nowadays? so often. i check it like i check twt and ig haha

did you have a fight/argument with another blog once ? who won ?

> no bc 1. i only know a handful of ppl 2. im the type of person who keeps things to myself haha

how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts ?

> i dont mind them as long as you dont /force/ other ppl to do it to the point where they feel guilty if they dont

do you like tag games ?

> yesss! bc it's fun plus i get to know how you guys r doing haha

do you like ask games ?

> yupp, but it not a lot of ppl are interested in it and it's not like i can do it on my own right?? haha

which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous ?

> uhhh, again, i dont hv a lot of mutuals... but maybe pj? @wonunuu :D

do you have a crush on a mutual ?

> Nopeee

tags?

> yooooo! @wonunuu @shuajeong and @lovingyu04 I hope you guys r doing fine and its totally fine not to do this if you don’t feel like it :D

[petekaos]

If someone should be apologizing for late replies it should be me so no worries at all! Dealing with my old phone finally made me irritated enough to get a new one as it suddenly failed to show half my gallery and keeps restarting itself at random times. I've been struggling with apps crashing and slow processing for at least a year now too so maybe it was time... So yay for actually being able to use the tumblr app too! Maybe my answering speed will increase? Also, glad to hear you'll be getting a bit of a break as well, even happier to hear you're ready to take your time resting 🤍 Even if things do seem to be quite hectic, I know you can push through this, I'm rooting for you!

I'm sorry to hear about the change of plans but you really made the right decision. It'll be so much more fun to meet once there's not as much uncertainty as at the moment, I'm sure! The number of cases is increasing here too and we'll most probably just have a Skype celebration with friends, better to be patient with this whole thing than watch a full-on lockdown happen again. On a more positive note: I am very much looking forward to possible petekao+achara japan stories!! No pressure though, I just loved the little snippet in the postcards fic already!

The recipe you linked looks wonderful, I might do some gentle tweaking if I feel like it. I'll let you know how it goes once I'm onto the project (which should be next weekend as I have no plans)! Also please feel free to ramble about tangerines (or anything tbh) at any given time, I found that quite endearing, really ❤️

Favourite dessert? Favourite cherry magic character? Now those are some unfair questions as I am very much a lover of all things sweet as well as everyone in cm. I like pretty much all kinds of desserts. Baked, fried, chilled... Everything goes. Honestly an easier question would be to just ask which desserts I don't like because as far as I'm aware I only dislike anything with an overwhelming amount of vanilla essence or sea-buckthorn berries. That trick doesn't work for cherry magic though... I cannot name a favourite but if I had to name a character I relate to way more than others, it would be adachi. I get this intense feeling of comfort seeing someone with similar self-worth and self-confidence issues slowly overcoming them, even if we're talking about a fictional character...

A bit over two weeks until 2021, can you believe? Time is just flying by...

hellooo nene! again sorry for the super late reply haha, time has just been flying by. i’m glad you got a new phone, that’s great and yay for finally being able to use the app! although the app crashes and functions weirdly enough on its own, so we shall see how that goes. thank you so much - i’ve just been writing and making gifs recently and it’s honestly very healing, i’m glad i get to have this time off and just chill for a bit. and yeah, i’ve just been texting my friends and keeping up to date with what they’re doing through calls and stuff, which is infinitely better in these times. staying safe!

as for the petekao+achara in japan fic, it’s in the works! i know i say this a lot but i will write a little drabble after i’m done wrapping up my secret santa gift. as well as a chanonpom thing i’ve been thinking about recently... let’s just hope my writer’s block clears up and i don’t procrastinate my way through my time off. on another note, i hope the tangerine pie goes well! i tweaked that recipe myself to make the one i made recently and it turned out super well and now i have a permanent craving, meaning that i’m gonna pull a kao and we’re going to be having tangerine pie for ages now.

honestly you’re very relatable for liking all kinds of desserts... because absolutely same. indian desserts are incredibly close to my heart though, and you can find me making gulab jamuns and laddoos whenever i have the time. i gotta say that tangerine pie is becoming a quick favourite though, and brownies have always been a constant favourite! as for cherry magic... i gotta say that kurosawa has to be my favourite. while i adore everyone else and i relate immensely to adachi, there’s just something so kind and relatable about kurosawa that makes me adore him! he reminds me a lot of sarawat, actually, and it makes me love him all the more.

2021 is literally gonna be over in a week and i cannot believe it. it’s been wild. what about you? any end of year plans?

[arethereanyoriginalusernames]

ZP Fanfiction Review

Hellooo internet! Welcome to GAAAAAAYYY THEORY-

I am so sorry.

Anyway, welcome to what I can only call a test run for a series I've decided to start. For more info, I'd recommend reading my previous post. To give a brief explanation, I criticize written works done by others in order to help myself and others improve, and recently I've turned my attention to ZP fanfiction (as you do). This series is in no way meant to shame anyone or anything like that. I am simply stating my opinion, and anyone reading this can take whatever they want from it.

Now, while I do take requests, for the first few of these posts, I put the titles of random fics that I have read, and pulled one out at random. Since I admittedly haven't asked these writers for permission, if one of them contact me and wish for me to take a review down, I will. Do not send any negative bullshit to anyone whose fics I review.

With that said, I hope you enjoy, because today we're going to look at a fanfiction posted on Wattpad by a Tumblr user known as @thiccdemonlover69-blog. Now, something I want to make clear is that this was written back in 2017. This isn't representative of this user (who I will refer to as TDL) 's current writing abilities. The fic in question is this one here,

So, originally, I was going to do a full synopsis of the story, but I ultimately decided against it. Not only did it make the post longer than it needed to be, but knowing myself, I would undoubtedly leave something out by mistake. Therefore, I encourage you to read the story before continuing this review. I will be going through it chapter by chapter, and I will give my thoughts on each one.

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

Chapter 1 "A Normal Day... or so Damian thought "

Not too much to say here since this is an introductory chapter and not much really happens in it. Because of this, however, I thought that I would take the opportunity to address what I already predict will be an elephant in the room.

Like most of us fans, TDL has their Headcanons and theories about the ZP characters. You'll notice in the story that Satan and Damian have a slightly different relationship than in the comic, as Satan is more present in his son's life here. This is just an example of what I'm talking about. Now, I actually don't have a problem with this by itself. I'm all for writers including their own unique ideas in fanfiction, however, I have a problem with some of the changes made by TDL to the characters and setting. There's nothing egregious here, but as we go on, I think you'll be able to understand what I mean.

One positive for this chapter is that it serves its' purpose as an intro very well. We get an idea of the upcoming conflict without it being spelt out.

Chapter 2 "At Hell No. 2 (School)"

Ok, so overall this chapter in itself isn't terrible considering how it introduces the relationships between various characters here and further sets up the upcoming conflict. However, I have to ask some questions about the characters. First, I've noticed that throughout the story, certain characters that you'd expect to make an appearance I guess just don't exist here. Sahara and Narissa (Dame's mum), for instance, have apparently been snapped by Thanos. Meanwhile, some characters have noticeably different personalities. Jack, for instance, is much less shy and passive and has more or less taken on Zill's personality. Also, I guess he and Dame are buds now. Kayla... is a whole topic that I will touch on later. Eli wasn't introduced in the comic, and the best we have is his character sheet, so I guess he's ok here? Addi is in character, Autumn barely exists, Zill... just kind of exists? Finally, Dame has had a few weird changes to him that I'll touch on in a bit.

Ch. 3 "A Not-So-Normal School day"

Ok, so let's talk about Kayla real quick, shall we?

A common sin committed by inexperienced writers is the tendency to villanize characters in order to push the narrative forward. In this story, Kayla is practically cartoonish in how awful she is. She's physically harmful, a bitch, a homophobe, and is overpossesive of Zill. I get the idea that TDL doesn't like Kayla, because to me it seems like she was turned into a bitchy Leeson. Now, Kayla in cannon can get frustrated and angry at times, but for the most part, she's a nice person. She's the type to defend others against bullying, and would never bully someone else. Not only that, but I don't buy this version of Kayla because canonically she's scared of Dame. His appearance alone is enough to make her yeet herself across the room. If she did something such as knocking something of his off his desk, she'd probably panic.

I can only imagine two reasons why she was changed in such a way. One, to have Damian not crush on her. Now, if this is the case, I don't think villainizing Kayla is necessary. You can just say that Damian outgrew his crush on her and be done with it. Two, is to create drama. If this is the case, is Kayla really the best candidate for the drama causer here? I wouldn't think so, and you could probably replace Kayla with someone who'd be more likely to bully someone, like Rusty or Baltimore or something.

Aside from Kayla, another problem I want to mention is that art class scene. Addi's mum getting a minor to pose nude in front of his class is actually kind of creepy, and I don't believe that it would be aloud.

Chapter 4. "The Second, more worst bully"

First of all, that title could use a rewrite.

This chapter mainly exists so the story can show how much of a bitch Kayla is now, and I've already spoken about that. I will mention some positives, however. Something I like in this story is whenever TDL adds in little details like characters having secret handshakes or characters eating dinosaur nuggets. I know this seems small, but this random little specifics give the story a cute, quirky charm that I am here for.

Chapter 5. "The Moment Damian has Been Waiting for "

Not too much goes on in this chapter. We get some funny bit of dialogue ("Ooh, is that drama I see" made me crack up) and a wierd scene where Dame is suddenly One Punch Man, and he cracks Jack's skull open by simply bonking him on the back of the head.

Since there's not much to say, I want to take the opportunity to talk about Damian in this story. First, again, I don't have an issue with writers adding in their ideas to their fics. The whole thing with him being a cross dresser? Cool. That's it. That is my entire thought on that.

There are some other changes that confuse me, however. For instance, the ADHD is integrated really weirdly. It gets brought up at really random times, nothing is really done with it, and overall it just seems to serve as a reason for Dame acting hyper. The story could have just had one line that said "Damian has ADHD " and nothing would have changed.

Another thing, and this isn't something exclusive to TDL, but apparently Damian is homosexual. Not bi, just gay. This is a change I actually see a lot of the time with Dame, and I don't know why. Like... is it so difficult to imagine him liking more than one gender? Do you think that he needs to be gay in order to be in a homosexual relationship? Because he doesn't. Bisexuals can do the same thing as gays. It's just such a random change that it just bugs me.

There's also the fact that Damian is apparently amazing at everything. He's an A plus student, a great actor, a great artist, etc. I'm not sure what TDL is going for with this angle. It's something else that just seems random, because the only thing that this does is make teachers confused about why Dame is sad and it makes other characters freak out about how brilliant Damian is.

Chapter 6. "The Date"

Ok, let's all just admit it. Damian going "RIBS RIBS RIBS RIBS..." is in one way or another a fucking mood for everyone. Don't you fucking lie to me.

The interactions between Eli and Dame are mostly cute, and we get some funny dialogue here too. The one issue I have is something not exclusive to this chapter, and it's how Damian is kind of treated like a child. Characters talk about him like his a little kid, and even the way Eli talks to him to calm him down in this chapter is (to me) reminiscent of a babysitter dealing with a hyperactive kid. I bring this up now because I want you all to remember this. It will get creepy later on...

Chapter 7. "The crazy household of Damian "

Easily my favorite chapter.

We still get bits where Dame is kind of treated like a child, but it's barely noticeable here. TDL is actually pretty good at writing wholesome scenes and scenes where a couple characters are just hanging out. This chapter actually reminded me of events that happened in my own life, so believe it or not, I actually got a nostalgia hit reading this. This chapter just put a smile on my face. Shame that it came right before the worst chapter. Buckle in kids.

Chapter "It's Time... and Absolutely Everything goes to shit"

What a fitting title!

First, let's talk about how not a lot in this chapter makes sense. Ok, so everyone knows that Kayla doesn't like Dame and shit could go down if they ever cross paths. And yet, they bring Damian to a party at Kayla's house, and act surprised when shit hits the fan. This happens again when Damian tries to talk to Kayla, and she spits in his drink. I don't know what any of these characters were expecting. There's a weird focus on food in this chapter. Kayla ironically becomes a badass because she decks someone and immediately follows that up by heading off to pop lock and drop it on the dance floor. Zill exists, and he's drunk. He makes out with Damian because.... Kayla's a homophobe? I think that's the reason? Jack literally gets into a fucking wrestling match with Kayla. Rusty is just here. Eli disappears for a while, and I guess Addi just teleported out of the party because the only contribution that he makes is that he messes up the time.

Ok, my favorite scene here is when Dame is like "oh I don't wanna dance bc I sad" and Rusty just shows up for some reason and remarks very loudly that Damian is good at ballet. This info is so shocking, the DJ, who somehow heard this over the music, turns off the tunes, there's awkward silence, and then everyone laughs at Damian. No. I don't get it either. Like... how did anyone hear Rusty, how fucking loud was Rusty talking, how did people know who Rusty was referring to, why is the concept that a dude does ballet so shocking, especially when you'd think that the fact that he's the antichrist is more shocking? Like... am I just having a fucking stroke right now?

Oh, and remember how I mentioned how Damian is treated like a child in this story? Remember how Damian is a teenager, and in other words, a minor? So, apparently, not only do we learn that Damian once got a boner but his father spanking him, but apparently Styx, an adult, has had sex with Damian on multiple occasions. And yes, this info is revealed in throwaway lines. If you listen closely, you can faintly make out the sound of someone screaming "FBI, OPEN UP!"

Granted, TDL was a teen at the time of writing this, so no big whoop on their part. Still doesn't make this any less creepy.

Oh yeah, and Damian fucking dies at the end except he doesn't because plot twist, bitch! We were reading a Steven Universe fanfiction the entire time! Ok, no, this is actually another Headcanon by TDL, but st this rate, between the Headcanons which anyone who doesn't know TDL would be confused by and the characters acting weirdly, I am honestly having trouble saying for sure if this fic takes place in the comic's setting, or in some type of AU.

For brevity's sake, I'll just go over the last two chapters. Tldr, Damian is fine, Lucifer gets Kayla expelled, Kayla get tortured, Lucifer is super happy with himself, and everyone lives happily ever after.

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

If I had to sum up my feelings on this story, the first half for me is a mixed bag. It has its' glaring problems, but the humor and writing style make the fic endearing and enjoyable. If the story ended at "the Date ", I would have thoroughly enjoyed it. But then everything just kind of falls off the rails. Stuff happens because... well I guess just because. We get an unintentionally creepy ending to an otherwise wholesome trip, and the Headcanons included here are put in so randomly with no explanation that I can only imagine what someone who didn't have any context to them would say.

The thing is, I think that this fic actually gives a good example of a lot of problems beginners have. I'm certain that TDL nowadays could write a better story, and they certainly have potential. Hell, if one were to fix a few things in here, this fic would be a lot better.

Still, I hope that this review gives you at least a couple ideas of what to look for in some of your own stories. Also, feel free to tell me what you think.

I apologize for wasting your time.

- ATOUN

[iguessihavemore]

Garden Chap. 1 Not Your Garden Variety Pt.1

Ahhhhhh yessss. A smaller chapter because I Do Not Trust tumblr yet with big big posts. Enjoy folks!

“This is the best day ever! WOOHOO!” Chris cheered, hopping up with both feet off the ground. He held a cellphone in one hand. “I knew I was right! Take that!” He threw it down in a celebratory-football way, and it shattered instantly. Chris clearly didn’t care at all.

“Uh….” Someone voiced behind the camera, and it went dark.

----

“This show is MINE, baby. Ain’t NO ONE can tell me how to run it but ME.” Chris continued to dance, after who knows how long the video was off. Several groans resounded this time, and cut to black again.

----

The host cleared his throat. “Heyo, and welcome to the next instalment of Total Drama!” He was still buzzing from excitement. The camera seemed to jitter and focus happily, having not expected this to be a viable take. “We’ve got a fresh change of atmosphere- a REALLY big change, try not to let it give you a shock. I won’t lie, it’s so new, even I had to wonder, ‘oh my god, producers, what are you thinking??’” He shook his hands, face scrunched up. He loosened up. “But not to fear, despite what I once thought until this moment, we can still torture these contestants at will. And by we, I MEAN ME-” 

For once he caught himself, and rapidly switched back to his calm tone. “The only difference this time around is that it’ll be prettier or something? They wanted an exercise on how much the puke and mud was really drawing in an audience.” Chris rolled his eyes. “So now we have a whole season without it. It’s AeStHeTiC, they said.”

Drawing back, he was standing on a bright green plot of grass. Decorative stones littered the ground like tiny pathways. A white birch archway behind him blocked the view of the rest of the garden with green tubes hanging from it like a curtain. To the right, an odd, unappealing to look at, massive flower bulb sat sideways on stilts, the bottom end of it connected to a wide tube that trailed off-screen. To the left was the beginning of a woodwalk, that also went out a view. “This season, we decided to let the contestants themselves decide how they wanted to be introduced. As stupid adreneline junkies,” He gestured to the tube contraption. “As boring and basic,” He held a hand near his head and looked back, referring to the archway. “Or as pretentious wannabes.” As he said this, he brought a hand to his eyes and smiled down the walkway. “Speaking of which, here comes our first one!”

The wooden planks led to a serene lake. A gondolier was just finishing up rowing up to the little dock. The contestant sitting at the other end, who at first glance gave off a brunette Barbie vibe, delicately eyed the scenery. She stepped from the boat and waved pleasantly at the man who had brought her, mouthing a ‘thank you.’ He had too much facial hair to see if he cared, and simply pushed off. The girl didn’t mind, smiling forward with glossy light-pink lips, batting her lightly mascaraed, blue eyes in every new direction she looked in.

“Hello Chris, it’s a pleasure.” She gave a bow-curtsy, feminine but not wearing a skirt. Chris and her shared a smile. “And I mean it. How lucky of me to be accepted into the best of the seasons.” She straightened, folding her hands at her hips. She had on a white blouse with the slightly poofy sleeves and single button at the collar, tucked into blue jeans, and white ballet flats she pointed with an arbitrary delicacy.

“Nice to have you here, Amelia. And, hey, if you say so.” He put on a grudging tone that was the total opposite of before.

She giggled, her arms bouncing lightly and jostling her auburn hair, curled to shoulder length. “Never fear, with my thespian roots, I’ll personally ensure you all have something to look forward to, even without your beloved explosions.” She placed a flamboyant hand to her collar.

“Well, we’ll see.” Chris motioned for her to step to the side, and she did so. He walked to the other end near the bulb, winking at the camera with a toothy grin while she couldn’t see.

“Next contestant, you can come out now.” He called to the curtained archway.

“Oh hell yeah, baby.” Two brown-greyish hands poked out between the garden hose-like tubes, quickly thrusting them to the sides, tossing the curtain around her in a grand entrance. Amelia laughed supportingly as the girl took a long stride forward, and then went shock-silent when one of the tubes coiled around the girl’s arm on it’s way back down, snagged her, and threw her face down into the ground.

The girl, hair a combo of dark purple to neon green sprawled around her head, laid there silently for awhile. Amelia couldn’t help but laugh quieter and more awkwardly. In a single move, the girl drenched mostly in black clothing sprung to her sneakered feet, hands already on her hips like nothing had happened, sans the green hose still tied to her upper arm. “It’s Cameron!” She beamed.

“Yes it is!” Chris agreed, letting her wipeout speak for itself. “How’s Cameron ready for this season?”

Before she answered, she unknotted her leather jacket sleeve from the hose with her tongue sticking out, fussily tossing it to the ground since she’d unknowingly ripped it from the birch. She went back to her previous attitude in an instant. “Oh, I’m ready. I have the power of ghosts and, heck, maybe even god on my side.” She did a wide, ninjitsu-esque move. “Eh, who am I kidding. More likely Satan, but he’s more of a bro than you’d think.” She smiled cockily, etching up her two facial moles (on her cheek and upper lip), and folded pink eyes.

“Whoo boy, sounds like we’re in for a ride with you.” Amelia spoke up as Cameron came to her side. Her hair could now fall in its intended long-in-the-front bob.

“You betcha!” She winked, making a single finger-gun. She took in a deep, content breath, and then her entire person relaxed. Putting her hands in her jacket pockets, she said, “Okay, I’m done.” Her boxy-jacketed, legging-clad body shifted to the side comfortably.

“Much obliged,” Chris nodded, happy to not need to force them to shut up just yet. “Now for my favorite of the bunch, the sliders, give a warm welcome to Paulie!”

“AAAAAAAHHHHH-” A husky voice screamed as a dark shadow filled the inside of the tube, rocketing downwards. Once at the end, the bulb contracted slightly and spat out the next contestant. She flew with a shock of coiled, lime green hair, legs kicking desperately. She was lean, but definitely top heavy, dancing on her bright pink and black sneakers with a war cry of “AHHYAYAYA”

She finally came to a stop, knees wobbly and pointed at each other, but upright nevertheless. She gasped deeply, with a happy scoff mixed in. “You- you thought.” She shakily pointed at Chris with pride.

The host, with a smile, snapped his fingers in a disappointed manner. “Hopefully you can keep up those good plays.”

The dark skinned girl rose fully. She had a simple black T-shirt, dark blue ripped jeans, a shiny silver ring pierced in her right nostril, an array of various rings lining both her ears, an X on her cheek made of simple bandaids, and a black bandana at the base of her scalp, lighting it up with a bright red-and-yellow flame decal. She tilted forward, staring excitedly with her round, rusty-red eyes and a broad smile parting her thick, skin-colored lips. “You are so not ready for me.” She insisted.

“Guess all that’s left for us is to pray, then.” Amelia mock-sighed. Paulie turned, her arms and what could be seen of her knees littered in faint scars. She gasped.

“SAME HAIR DYE!!” She yelled, a dull-nailed finger was pointed at Cameron’s head.

“Lime Crime??” Cameron questioned. Paulie screamed in agreement. Cameron screamed back, and they jumped at each other with open palms. It’s good that they went at each other with equal force, or one of them would have been high-fived into the next dimension.

Amelia laughed with the enthusiasm they radiated. “You guys would be fantastic in theater.”

The trio hushed as Chris made his way over, ready to introduce the next teenager. This one was also arriving by boat, and was just as bright-eyed to see the pretty destination as Amelia had been, if not more so. She hopped off the gondola and also thanked the ferryman, who this time gave a very slight nod.

“Hellooo, Marina!” Chris called, waving his hand.

“Hi Chris!” The girl called back, with big, dark, lemon shaped eyes. She had thick, wavy dark hair that reached right under her neck. Her bangs parted at the center, tucked behind her ears. A soft pink dress flowed around her brown skin and she walked down the path with a quickened pace. Her dusty-pink flats stopped as she got to their congregation, the lacy skirt of her dress resting at her knees, a small bit of dusty-pink leggings peeking out just past it.

Chris patted his knees and bent to her eye level. “Dressed for the occasion, aren’t you?” He commented, though his nose wrinkled just slightly at the pinkness.

She smiled brightly with her simple mauve lips and thick arched eyebrows. “This is how I always look!” She fiddled with one of the red ribbon bows that made up her sleeves, the top portion of her dress printed with a big red heart center-focus. “I’m glad to hear it happens to be fitting for the season, though.” She had freckles littered between her eyes right above her button nose.

“Girly-girls unite!” Amelia laughed and knelt down just a bit, holding her hand out. Marina flashed a smile and high-fived her, but it held nowhere near the flair than the previous one.

“I kinda hope I’m just as fitting, too...” Marina thought aloud, idly tapping her fingers.

“Ah! Ha ha.” Chris leaned back with his hands on his hips. “Yeah. We’ll see.” He said non-committedly, not wanting to show his cards so soon. Marina’s eyebrows flipped, but she didn’t let up on her smile.

“Next up? Come on out.” He called towards the archway.

This person held a tan hand out between the hose curtain, sweeping enough aside to step through. She stared out blankly for a moment, then smiled lazily with dark grey lips. She passed into the pretty clearing, her black platform boots a stark contrast to the pastel greenery. Her entire outfit- a simple black corset over a modest grey dress that went to her neck, just past her elbows, and right above her knees with a pleated shard look- was a contrast to the whole current setting.

“I’m J-” She began to introduce herself with a soft, low voice.

“How come you didn’t get catapulted to the ground?” Cameron huffed. Everyone but Amelia blinked at her. The newest of the bunch then smirked lightly.

“Did you barge in all gung-ho?” She teased, flicking a wrist that was dressed with a sheer, fingerless glove. Cameron snorted in response.

“Maybe? Who’s to say?” She shrugged. She put a finger to Amelia’s lips, even though she wasn’t going to say anything anyhow.

The gothic girl silently giggled. “Of course. My name’s Jennifer.” She gestured to herself by placing her palm above her bright crystal necklace. Her long, dark brown hair that framed her face swung with her as she regarded Chris solely. Her eyes were constantly relaxed and under a heavy set of lashes, and the cute shape of her face was very familiar. “May I ask what the surprise is, Chris McClain?” She cut right to the chase.

“What are you talking about?” Chris threw his hands in front of him, putting on an annoyed tone. “I wish there was one- I’m gonna die of boredom before this season hits the merge!”

She sighed, “I thought not.” Jennifer rolled her eyes at his insistence.  “Let’s prepare ourselves.” She told the other four girls, coming to stand with them.

“Our next competitor-!” Chris began to pump up for the next person to be shot out of the flower bud shotgun-style. 

However, the streamer curtain behind him exploded with a loud, “Yeah!! That’s me!!”

Chris gasped and clutched at his chest.

“Careful grandpa.” Paulie cocked her head with a smirk as the others laughed.

The host glared over his shoulder at a boy of medium stature, fully clothed in what looked like a black morph suit. “That was not your cue.” He snapped.

The boy, with one of the only visible things of his skin being a strip cut out for his honey brown eyes, squinted one of them. “Yes it was.” He argued simply, as if Chris was the confused one.

Chris opened his mouth, groaned, and pinched his nose. “Roger, everyone.” He flipped his hand lamely. Roger blinked, his eyes curling happily, and rose his arms up once again. One of the tubes, after flapping back, had tied onto his upper arm from the force he arrived with.

“Oh, oh buddy-” Cameron started to speak up.

“So what’s with the…?” Chris leaned towards him, waving his hand in front of his own face.

Roger rose a brow. “Huh?” He asked for clarification. Chris continued to mention the mask in every way but saying ‘mask,’ and Roger continued to be confused, completely drowning out the teenagers who were trying to warn him.

“Why are you hiding your face?” Chris finally said, which must have been enough for Roger to get it.

“Uhhh…” He brought his finger up, fiddling with a bit of bushy brown hair that escaped from his suit. “I don’t know. It’s TV and that’s embarrassing. But I also wear it all the time because it’s embarrassing to be around people when they can see your face. I guess the TV thing is just an excuse-” He lost himself in his musings rather quickly.

“Alright alright.” Chris cut him off, annoyed. “At least we don’t have to see your junk.” He motioned downwards, at the basketball shorts and tanktop Roger was wearing.

The space between his eyes flushed pink. “Uh, yeah. I’m on TV, that’d be so embarrassing! Like in would be in public-”

“Go stand with the others.” Chris cut him off again, eyebrows cinched together. “You’ve just about ruined my groove.”

Roger’s eyebrows curled upwards and he did what he was told silently. “Uh, you’re welcome!” Amelia called to him teasingly. She, Paulie, and Cameron were standing where they would have been behind him. They held up the hose proudly. “You almost fell right on your face!”

Roger looked at the three with wide eyes. “You… you were going to trip me?” He asked softly, betrayed.

They let their mouths hang open for a second, until Chris clapped. “Next contestant for real this time!”

Marina’s shoulders jumped up. “It might be my sister!” She told the others excitedly. “She chose the slide.”

“Yikes,” Paulie winked down at her. It was the first time Marina frowned.

The slide filled with a shadow, a consistent thud thud thud filling the air. The first three to be introduced made way, Marina and Jennifer following their lead, the former with much concern. Jennifer looked over her shoulder and grabbed a spacing Roger by the collar of his shirt, pulling him to the rest of them.

The tip of the petals parted, and a massive figure twirled out feet-first. It landed right in front of where they had all been standing, but they could still feel the impact of this creature landing upright. A lanky stature of a person rose from the squat they landed in, with a slight serpentine manner to a height that towered over the others. “HOWDY!” A chipper voice came out of her, her olive eyes glittering.

“Jesus CHRIST you’re a giant!” Cameron shouted, holding a hand to her head.

The glitter ran dry. “Language, pal-y.” She laughed despite. “And it’s all the camping in me! Made me big and strong!” She flexed her tanned freckled arms, and though not totally muscular, made an impact due to the rest of her being so slim and lanky. Her legs were the same, all her limbs nicked with a small cut and a bump or two. She wore a simple pair of cargo shorts, and a light blue T-shirt with boxy sleeves reaching mid-upper arm. It sported a nondescript summer camp logo on the front. She lunged forward on one sneaker, nearly worn thin, and stretched as she took in the scenery. “Pretty little place! Are we having a tea party?”

“Oh, you better get used to things looking like this,” Chris grinned, “It’s Garden all season.”

“Huh!?” She gasped. “Naw, don’t tell me we won’t have any trees or hills! Come on, don’t tell me!”

Chris rubbed his chin in thought. “Not many... at least, not the kind you’re wanting. You can’t touch those trees.”

“Ummm why’s that-?” Jennifer asked allowed in utter confusion, but was drowned out by the newest arrival.

“Aw Chris, that just isn’t any fair!” She tilted her head, her frizzy dark ponytail flipping with it. “You can’t keep me from cabins, and nature, and campfires, and rivers, and rope tying, and- and-” She listed off fretfully.

Chris shook his hands out in front of him. “Relax! There’s still going to be half of that stuff, and you’ll get a butt-whooping of nature to last you a lifetime, don’t you worry.”

She righted herself, wiping her nose with a sniff. “Chris, that isn’t appropriate. As you’re not an official counselor I suppose I can give you a pass JUST this once, but don’t let me catch you mentioning again…” All of her chipper drawl was gone as she began to chide the host, getting to his level to whisper “Hitting the derriere.”

Chris laughed his absolute head off. “Oh! Rosie! I’m nowhere near a counselor! But keep up that uptight attitude, I love it!”

“Hmhm.” The campy girl squinted with a tight smile. “Yes, I see. Make no worse offenses. Surely even you can manage.”

Chris tried to calm himself as he circled over to the edge of the boardwalk once more.

Rosie felt a light pat on her arm. Marina was looking up at her. “Hey… it’s okay that you didn’t like what he said. Sorry that he laughed at you like that.”

“Aw,” Rosie brightened. “Never you mind- I’m sure Chris has some tight windows to be saying such things, anyway.”

Marina mustered a little smile. “Oh, haha, I’m sure he… I’m sure he does.”

“And next we have…!” Chris motioned to the lonely dock. “...!”

He motioned again. “...!”

“Tsk!” He threw his fists on his hips, staring daggers further down the lake. The gondolier was down on his knees at his end of the boat, clearly pushing the paddle so far down he was pushing off the bottom of the lake to get anywhere. He was sweating bullets, as on the other end, the contestant was such a muscular unit his corner was slightly sunk into the water. “Hmmm…” The host turned away. “He looked smaller in his audition.” He mused to himself.

He moved on to the archway. “Hey, yo, you can come out now Annabelle.”

“Sweet.” A smooth, femme voice said. From behind the tubes came a curtain of its own, made of honey brown hair reaching her lower back. The contestant ducked and straightened from the archway with her hands in the pocket of her grey hoodie, a panther printed on the front. She smiled a small, lazy smile under her hooded hazel eye, her thick coarse hair encasing the other. Light freckles dotted her high cheeks and button nose. Her lips pulled up more as she nodded to the others. “Heya. Nice to meet ‘cha.”

Some of the previous teenagers tried to say something quippy but it got drowned out in the general ‘hey’ they all said back. Annabelle swept her sight over them, and a relief seemed to settle on her calm person. “Looks like I don’t have ta worry about fitting in.” She said fondly. She walked her blue jeans over, and stood next to Paulie nearish the back.

“Okay, looks like Tony finally decided to show up.” Chris didn’t bother walking back to the dock. The blonde contestant, too wide for the dock, was making his way towards them, the ferryman trying to scoop out water from the half-drowned gondola behind him. Instead of safely shimming down the boardwalk, Tony opted to walk with both his feet just halfway on either side of the dock, head-on. The group of them let out a sigh when he finally got to the ground.

“So, Tony, welcome. You excited?” The host asked the pale boy who never skipped arm or leg or torso day.

He curled back his lips, speaking through his teeth. “Yeeeah. Yep.” He paused, and with no change of tone admitted, “I’m scared.”

“Aw, no need to worry. Nothing to fear here, and if you’re camera shy, just turn any amount of degrees and your hulking muscles will block the view!” Chris did his best impression of consoling.

“Mmm… okay.” Tony went over to the others, all of them wide-eyed. They didn’t really strike up conversation like they had when it was Rosie’s height they were aweing, probably because Tony made no effort to notice any of them at all.

“AAAaaand....!” Chris suddenly perked up, turning his beaming face to the slide, now thumping with the next contestant. The bulb contracted, a blur of faint yellow and blue rocketing out. The person attempted to land right, but his tennis shoe only grazed the ground and the rest of him smacked right flat into the dirt.

Marina gasped and threw her hands to her mouth. A few people around her snickered or expressed sympathy, as Chris quickly blocked the way of any of them that moved to help the newcomer. “Welcome to the show, Jackson!”

Jackson lifted his shoulders off the ground, his tongue sticking out as it was covered in grass. He quickly spat as he stood up, displeased and blushed on his light, orange-undertoned skin. He shook his choppy, platinum blonde hair that reached his cheekbones, and blinked at Chris with hazel-green eyes. “Th- thanks. Definitely already feeling it.”

“I should hope so! I have to get my kicks somehow!” Chris beamed, and laughed at it for far too long. “Now, our next competit-” He began to turn away.

“H- hey! Don’t tell me they get to know my name and I don’t get to know theirs’!” Jackson cried incredulously, outstretching his hands to his peers that came before him. “That’s not fair!” He stood in place and wouldn’t move to the gathering quite yet. He was thin, the only thing plumping up his silhouette being his clothes, like his grey sweatpants and open blue hoodie, a black T-shirt underneath.

The host groaned, rolling his head to the side. “Think about that for a second, would ya? Then we’d have to do that for every single person, and that makes no sense-”

“I’m Jennifer.” The gothic girl smiled warmly and waved. She stepped forward to shake Jackson’s hand now that Chris wasn’t standing in the way. Jackson finally brightened. When he smiled, it really showed off his prominent upper lip and cupid’s bow. As he shook her hand back, the others piped in.

“I’m Paulie! Like a parrot.”

“My name’s Marina, nice to meet you!”

“Cameron, ghost hunter!” Cameron thrusted her thumb firmly to herself.

“Annabelle.” Annabelle shrugged, looking away to the side with her small smile.

“T o n y.”

“Amelia.” The thespian did a flashy hand gesture.

“So that’s your guys’ names!” Marina laughed, turning to the first three girls.

“Do you want me to say my name to!?” Roger excitedly asked Jackson, pointing to himself.

Jackson chuckled. “Yeah, man!”

“I’m Roger!” He happily yelled.

“And I’m ROSIE!” Rosie also yelled. “Glad to be here and glad to have you here, camper!”

“Alright!” Jackson moved over and found a place in their gathering.

Chris, his arms dangling in front of him, was scowling at the kids the entire time. “Don’t make that a habit.” He pointed to them. “This section can’t get TOO long.”

Jennifer shrugged unapologetically. “I thought you’d be happy, since it took that long for the next boat to come.”

Chris whirled around in surprise, to find that the gondolier was only just getting to the dock. He’d forgotten about Tony’s complications beforehand. “Whatever.” He huffed when he looked back at the teens.

Once it stopped at the pier, the arrival stood up. She was tall and slim, covered completely in pastels and a pair of thick grey yoga pants. A pale blue hijab wrapped around her brown face, as she looked at the host from a distance, staring blankly. She did not step off the boat.

“Well?” Chris asked her testily.

Pride instantly crossed her features. “This.” She informed.

The girl arched her back and placed her bare hands on the surface of the dock. She lifted her entire body effortlessly from the gondola, standing perfectly straight but upside down and backwards from the others. They let out a unanimous “Oh, woah.” Her black runners pointed into the sky.

Instead of rolling forward and doing a prolonged frontflip sort of thing, she instead curled only her head towards the rest of the cast, lifting up an arm as her legs slowly came down. She tightened her stance, planking in the air on one hand.

“Ha ha! Okay, okay, showoff!” Paulie cheered, clapping louder than everyone else.

She got to her feet and walked over with a smile, a mole present on the left of her upper lip. “I only take that as a compliment.” She said earnestly, regarding the competition with smiling rusty-brown eyes. “Chris! Nice to meet you.” She held her hand out to him. Her mint green shirt flared at the wrist, hanging down between them. Most importantly, it had an adorable panda icon printed on the front. Don’t you dare forget about the cute panda.

“Nooo, you’re making a pact with the devil!” Cameron called out. Behind her, Rosie’s pupils shrunk to pinpoints and almost made a noise due to how fast they glared at her.

“Nice to meet you too, Nadine.” Chris urged the girl on to the others. She nodded and stood towards the side. She was the tallest after Rosie and Tony, who were already taking up the back.

“I, uh…” Roger turned around, a sparkle in his eyes as he looked at her. “Love your, uh…”

Nadine looked him over and guessed in an instant, “My hijab?” She brought her hand to it.

His eyes squinted adoringly as he let in a tiny gasp. “Yes!”

“ROGER, in fact, should have been introduced now,” Chris cut in testily. The boy looked over fearfully, anyone could feel the confusion radiating from him. “But no biggie. ‘Cause now we can get back to the sliiiiiiiiiiiiiide!!!”

The teens began to flinch back and prepare themselves, but Marina ran to the front. “W- wait! Wait, please!” That has to be my sister, but she didn’t know it would be so- so intense!” She stressed to Chris.

“So?” Chris asked cockily. “Any one of these options had a risk- honestly it’s saddening no one stepped on the trick board yet.” He mused.

“Uh, wh- what was that.” Amelia asked.

“Yeah but, Stella, she- she’ll get hurt and not be able to think about much else, and later when she learns that’s how she spent her introduction, she’ll- she’ll be devastated!” Marina clasped her hands in front of her, pleading with the man. The slanted tube began to thump, making her more panicked. “I can’t let that happen to her- isn’t this season suppose to be less dangerous, anyhow!?”

Chris rubbed his stubble, looking away in false thought. “Nothing dangerous about getting your head bumped a little. It’s not my fault you brought me someone who’s easy to embarrass.”

“Hey! That’s not-!” Marina huffed, lamely scowling.

Rosie easily stepped up to the front, crouching down pretty close to the gross bud thing, winking at the pink-clad girl. “No worries, there’s plenty of big guys here to protect you little ‘uns. That’s just how nature is-” She thrusted her fist into her open palm and then threw her hands out in front of her. She looked like the catcher in a game of baseball. “The strong protect the small so we can all have fun!”

“WEEEEEEEEEEEE!” A girl’s voice shrieked as the bulb twitched. It shot her out full speed, and Rosie sprung up. Her arms flew out and caught her loosely, the two spinning around a few times from the pure momentum. After it was all done, Rosie was left standing with a giggling girl face-down in her arms, one around her shoulders and one at her knees. Stella’s own arms were outstretched in front of her, having come out head-first, her eyes sealed shut from her glee. “HA HA HA!”

Rosie smiled down at her, flipping her over effortlessly so that she was facing upwards, still in her hold. A latina girl with high thin eyebrows and a huge gaping smile greeted her and she couldn’t help but laugh back, sharing the excitement. Rosie finally set the girl on her yellow converse-d feet.

Stella now moved her hands over her stomach, still giggling. She had curly, dark caramel hair with a few lighter highlights reaching right to her shoulder blades, a long yellow ribbon tied in a bow behind her. Her nose was round and had a semi-prominent bridge; her bangs were parted in the center but some shorter bits hung over her forehead near her eyes. Her outfit consisted of a pale yellow scoopneck T-shirt that went to her elbows and sported a glittery, swirly pattern of a big crown and the cursive word ‘Princess,’ ending just above her belly button, a pair of navy green shorts held to her hips with a black belt with a golden buckle, unrolled socks with a single gold stripe at the tops, a copper-plated necklace, and several colorful bandaids stuck to her calves if they counted.

“Stella!” Marina said happily, coming to give her sister a small embrace. She then turned to the campy gal. “Thank you.”

“Aw!” Rosie waved her hand dismissively. Stella was clearly still laughing to herself as she walked with Marina to the gathering, but was silent.

“You can say hi to the others when you’re ready.” Marina told her. It was hard to tell if her sister heard her or not. “They’re really nice so far, you’re going to love them.” Stella audibly chuckled for a moment at that. The rest of the teens mostly kindly, silently regarded her, and a few said ‘hi.’

“Welp, that was the last of my favorite entrance.” Chris mourned. “I liked how it ended, though. Very loud, very flashy.” He rubbed his hands together. “I hope the last boardwalk person is gonna give me a show…” He uttered with an eager darkness.

The twelve current competitors turned at once to the dock, causing the ghastly pale person making their way down the dock stop in their tracks. The newbie and everyone on the grass seemed to be having a staring match, but the solo person was clearly just confused. They finally- while sweating bullets- walked the rest of the way, pink pupils darting everywhere for some sort of answer.

Chris groaned loudly, head rocked all the way back.

The albino standing before them brought a finger to their round chin, their downturned eyes staring out of their rectangular glasses. “Did I- did I already mess up?” They joked nervously, but was obviously also really worried.

“NO.” Chris grumped, crossing his arms like a child. “Welcome to the Garden, Jupiter. Hopefully everything comes EASY to you. Hope it’s all sunshine and daisies for YOU.”

Jupiter had no idea what to make of that. They had a simple shoulder-length hairstyle with their white, smooth, thin hair- it fell straight down and curled a bit at the ends. A button nose, and hands clasped tightly in front of them. “Thank you.” They muttered in fear.

“Shucks, looks like you got favoritism already.” Annabelle winked at the newcomer.

They wavered a bit of a smile, stepping closer to them all. At this distance, the sticker on their white lab shirt could be read, saying ‘Hi, my name’s Jupiter! They/them pronouns!’ Beneath that they wore a red V-neck with jean shorts, red and white sneakers, and sported a faint scar on their left thigh before it trailed under their shorts. Their torso was round at the bottom, tapering at the top like a pear. “I guess it’s the best welcoming I could hope for.” They shrugged, stopping near their peers.

Chris shook himself off. “Last and literally not the least- in fact, dare I say double than any of you- we have- well, depending on how you look at it,” Chris kept interrupting himself, his smile growing wider and wider.

“Ah, come on man! On with it!” Jackson put his hands on his hips. “I don’t know how anybody can be Tony doubled.” He pointed his thumb at said boy.

“Oh ho ho! Not like that!” Chris gushed. “From the archway, we have our last one and/or two contestants…” From the tube curtain, two pairs of fingers began to appear, too far apart to be from one person. “Avery and Erika!”

A leg appeared, a leg appeared, and a leg appeared exactly. Two girls walked from the curtain, each using a hand to part themselves a way. Between them, they let what remained of the curtain trail over their shared shoulder until they walked far enough for it to slip behind them. Operating their five limbs carefully and slowly, they didn’t have to worry about the curtain yanking them back. Everyone who had come before them were ready to greet them like normal, but as the seconds passed and realizations began to bloom, things went dead silent.

They stopped soon after, standing in front of the gathering. Chris walked up to them as the twins and the rest of the cast shared glances, their light brown eyes open wide but relaxed- owlish. It didn’t take long for the two girls to look down at a space between them, cupping their hands together and inching towards each other a bit, making themselves smaller. They had a sandy complexion, and dark brown bobs. Avery, the twin with the right hand, had blunt bangs over her forehead, her hair reaching the mid of her shoulder blades. Erika’s hair ended at the shoulder, her bangs swept to the side.

Tailored to their needs, they wore a brown blouse over their bulky top with short, slightly puffed sleeves and short collars. Their conjoined torso tapered towards the middle where they had a black thick belt wrapped around their stomach, then widen to their shoulder width at their hips where they wore a three-legged pair of denim shorts. Below, they had two right-foot black Mary Janes(their middle leg slightly favored Erika, but alas was very stunted either way) and one left one, and black stockings that went up to their knees. Thankfully, for how misfortunate their situation was, both could stand upright with proper posture without either one having to lean to a side, which is more than can be said about most conjoined twins.

“I’m so glad you two could make it!” Chris jeered. “Or one. However you call it.”

They had small, pouty lips, and blinked at each other. Avery lifted her head and began looking out at the others blankly once again.

“Call us two.” Erika softly requested. 

Avery let her personal shoulder sag. “But count us as whatever you will.” She said just as quietly. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Such new… territory.”

“DON’T MOVE!” Paulie demanded, jumping towards them. “We’ll come to you!” The others quickly followed suit around the twins. Curious stares were thrown all around the girls, but no one got close enough to touch them.

“This is so cool…” Annabelle muttered.

“I want to ask you a billion questions… but must’nt overwhelm you…!” Jackson was visibly holding himself back, one of the nearest to the twins.

Avery and Erika barely responded to any of them beyond flicking their eyes here and there. 

Chris let out a sigh, the least angsty sigh he’d let out all day. “You know, that wasn’t so bad. Too bad I have to ruin it by showing you around- ugh- the garden, I guess.”

Previously standing within the camera crew, some interns came to the meeting ground and began to clear out the props. The boardwalk was allowed to stay, and they dismantled the archway in record time. There was an actual curtain behind it that had kept those who chose the archway from seeing the rest of the island.

And once it was taken down……

The clearing before had been pretty and all that, like grandma’s backyard or something, but this was like the personification of aesthetic and botany had a head-on collision AND a love child. The prettiest of flowers, from pastel, dainty, and sweeping, to bright neon, bold blooms.

A fountain with a statue was in front of them a ways away, shaped as a vague man-shape holding a tall vase, the tip of it gurgling out a stream of water with a pleasant sound. Light blue glassy bricks made a clean walkway to it, and in two other directions further into the island. Some tastefully-chosen trees filled some empty space within the near candy-green grass, broken up only by tiny stones or carefully picked wildflowers.

Chef sat nearby at an off-white table made with intricate designs, sipping on a fine china tea cup. The matching tea kettle was on the table.

“Tea parties…” Rosie muttered, hanging her head sadly. Not her cup of tea.

“It’s GORGEOUS!” Amelia cried, lacing fingers with Marina. Stella bobbed her head in front of them, her smile huge as ever.

Some of the others, like Jupiter, Nadine, and Paulie, were impressed by the sight, but not too much to comment. Others, like Jackson, Rosie, and Annabelle, preferred something else, but not enough to complain.

Jennifer shifted her eyes in outright suspicion. “Is that a mango tree!?” She pointed at a lush, fruitless tree.

“Uhhhhh….” Chris, more fearful of not knowing something than of Jennifer’s brewing wrath, swiveled to Chef to back him up.

“Not yet it ain’t.” Chef decided to help.

“Tropical trees don’t grow in Canada!” Jennifer chided. “At least, they shouldn’t, especially not around all these other- none of these plants should go together! They’re all going to die!”

Chef made her wait until he took a long sip. He set the cup on the saucer he held in his hand. “Man…” He said, “Stop dissing my mango tree.”

Jennifer continued to hotly argue plant ethics. An intern got Chris’s attention from it by tapping his shoulder, giving him a piece of paper. “Oh! Ahem,” He began hostly once he saw what it was. “This season, we have a team of the world’s BEST plant experts, who have carefully either found a way to keep all native and nonnative plants living in harmony with one another, or under a careful plan for future removal once the season is finished.” He smirked pridefully. “There, no harm done.”

“‘Plant experts?’” Jennifer scoffed. “Plant experts my ass! That’s just Total Drama bull-”

Rosie planted a hand on her shoulder from too far away, but made up for it in one long stride. She was at her side in a second, toothily smiling down at her. “Jenny, what’s it matter? I’m a nature enthusiast! You don’t see me complaining. You’re just being silly.”

Jennifer rose a brow from her scowl. She sighed angrily, but otherwise decided to back down.

“Now if you’ll all follow me.” Chris started to lead them down one of the brick pathways. Chef finished and took up the rear.

“Down this way we have the essentials. You’re going to be in charge of cooking your own meals, but here you’re almost always going to be able to get the ingredients you need.” He explained as they came to a large patch of tilled soil, many various green stalks and vines sprouting from it. Towards the back there were some huts that Chris pointed to. “Those have things like meat and grain stuff. We weren’t allowed to have you slaughter things for yourselves, so I said to heck with all the farm animals then, what’d be the point?” That got a mixed reaction from the teens. “But downside is you have a limited amount of the stuff a day. A pity. Oh, and fruit and berries are scattered around the island- can’t let your snacks be too easy.”

Chris gained a boost of excitement at the little shack at the edge of all the food spots, skipping up to it. “This!” He eagerly smacked the side of the shabby wood with a flat palm. “Is the tool shed- this season’s confessional! There’s lots of these babies all ‘round the island! I want you guys to get acquainted by taking turns saying who you want on your team or not! Who wants to give it a try first!?”

*Shed: Jupiter* They sat at a small wooden bench, knees tucked in. The lighting was a bit dim, light peeking in from the cracks of the wall behind, and a light was illuminating their face for the camera. “I want to be on Annabelle’s team. That may sound strange to instantly decide but… we’re actually siblings. We auditioned together.” They admitted, eyes dropping. “She said that because of my skin condition, as long as Chris didn’t mention it, no one would be the wiser. We even didn’t mention each other on our audition tapes, just in case. It looks like he’s playing along.” They laughed nervously. “I don’t like our plan much, but Anna’s right, it has a lot of pluses. Having the others thinking-” They began to hack grossly “Alright! I can’t take it anymore! Why’s it smell so bad!? It’s not like this is an outhouse anymore-” They turned around, revealing that the wall behind was lined with some small gardening tools… and stacked with open bags of manure. Chris could be heard outside the door cackling like a witch.

*Shed: Jennifer* “One, these plants WILL have retribution.” She informed before saying anything she was supposed to. Her leg was crossed over the other, her hands resting on her knee if not animated around her. “I hate to say it, because people will assume this is how I am in real life outside of sick television world, but I want as few of the… weaker people on my team as possible. I usually PREFER to hang around underdog types, but those are dangerous in a drama competition. Sorry twins, sisters, and Jupiter… but the less of you the better. Not sorry Amelia, you’re preppy.” She finally succumbed to a wince, and glared over at the bags of manure in the corner. Chris somehow, someway, knew this and laughed shrilly once again outside the door.

*Shed: Nadine* “I plan on being the strongest on my team no matter what.” Nadine announced, sitting with her legs pointed to one side. “Even versus… Tony, was it? I can get around him in no time flat, and I’d be surprised if he was able to flinch about it.” She suddenly laughed, looking away bashfully. “Sorry, that was a bit mean. Um, a leader type would be nice. I’d hate for people to look at me to solve in-fighting. If I had to guess who’d that be…” She scratched at her hijab, trying not to be at a loss for words. “Rosie or Paulie, perhaps?”

*Shed: Roger* He sat leaned back with his legs crossed. “I don’t super get it. Like, I don’t know how to PICK someone to be with for important stuff. Everybody hates me being in their group projects at school, but I don’t know why, because I always end up doing all the work, and I hate it because it takes me forever! And they never give me credit!” He crossed his arms and leaned forward, fuming at the floor. “And people always change… they give you attention for nothing but ignore you when you ask for it… so I want people on my team who make sense! That’s it!” He clicked his heels. “Hnn… being nice would help though… or if they were pretty. Or smart. Or-”

*Shed: Cameron* “Eh, I’m thinking Amelia, Paulie, and Jennifer would make good teammates. They seem well-rounded at worse, and I feel a slight bond with them. I’d be crazy not to want both Tony and Nadine on my team. Oh! And Erika and Avery. So cool. So creepy. Maybe get a collab thing going if things don’t turn out here. REAL conjoined twins on my mystery channel would be insane for business! Or if not, I want to hang with them as much as possible, just for funsies.” She paused, a finger on her chin. “But what if… they don’t think I’M cool!?!?”

*Shed: Stella* “Ahhh! Friends!” She joyfully cheered. She balled her hands and bounced in her seat. “With Mari! Ahhhh!”

*Shed: Avery and Erika* Avery sat with her hand on her lap, and Erika lent to the side on hers. “We reeeeally hope to get better at this whole people thing.” Erika whined, sounding nothing like before. Her voice was still soft, but not sad. “We came onto this show hoping to get used to people outside the orphanage. It’s pathetic to say but… we were most excited that they’d be forced to get along with us.”

“We fall into the creepy twin act on habit.” Avery explained. “We’re just so nervous around new faces. A driving factor to joining was also that Total Drama is notorious for oddballs. If anyone’s going to get used to us quick, and us get used to them, this seemed like just the environment. Like Erika said… pathetic. We know.” They didn’t seem all that embarrassed, though.

Erika perked up. “Team wise? Anyone will do! It’ll all be about the same for us, probably cannon fodder no matter what.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Pathetic. But hey, if we get any sort of positivity out of this at all, it’ll be- say, will you hold your hand out, I wanna do the thing- yeah like that.” Avery held her hand open palm-up for Erika to throw her fist into. “It’ll ALL be worth it!”

*Shed: Paulie* “HMM…” She gleefully pondered. “Definitely Rosie and Cameron- so wild! And Jennifer’s hilarious, gotta be on her team when she pisses Chris off. Mmm, who else… Jupiter maybe? They look cool- oh yeah! And the twins. Think about it- if they count as two, when we vote them off, we still get to keep them! At least once.”

*Shed: Annabelle* She sat sideways on the bench with her legs propped up. “On the opposite team as Jupiter, my dear little sibling. It’ll be good for them, and best case scenario we both get to the merge and become unstoppable. If you’re wondering why we’re not all like those sisters… we’d be targeted like crazy. Being on separate teams, we’ll have a much wider range of people to target, and I won’t have to worry about having to work against them.” Annabelle’s confidence in her plan sounded a bit more flakey when she continued with the next part, “And the main reason I can’t risk getting targeted due to being related is that… it makes it fifty/fifty on which of us gets voted, and as much as I love them… I have to be the one who gets to the finale.” She propped her cheek on her fist. “Jupiter thinks they have a good plan for the money that I pretended to agree with, but to be real, it’ll go to waste in their hands.”

*Shed: Marina* “It goes without saying, Stella! I don’t baby her, I swear, but she deserved a decent introduction, at least! And she’s not the best at talking, so I’ll probably be pretty necessary for awhile since she’s so excited. Otherwise, Rosie’s so nice and strong! I’d love to be on her team. Amelia’s nice… Jackson’s pretty cool… Nadine seems like she’ll be great in challenges… that kind of stuff!” She propped her hands on her hips in excitement.

*Shed: Tony* “Pft, it doesn’t matter. They’re all simple enough, I’ll get under their skins easily.” He said with way more clarity than before, examining his nails. “Err, not those twins though. There’s no WAY I’d be able to get either of them alone…”

*Shed: Amelia* She sat dainty as ever. “Cameron and Paulie, of course! Being the typical ‘quirky girls,’ they’re going to be looking for someone to give them direction. Tony’ll be useful. Jennifer will be fun to mess with, her being on either team will work just fine. Rosie is too into herself, I think, so I’ll pass on her. Roger is a puppy, he’ll follow me easily. I would say Marina would be a nice addition, but now that she has a sister to look after, not so much. The twins have too much of a specific thing… like on stage, you want to be versatile! I can’t tell how stubborn Nadine will be… she’s a dangerous wildcard. Annabelle and Jackson will probably take orders from something that sounds right, which won’t be any trouble for me. Jupiter can be my replacement Marina, I suppose.” She listed off without a second thought on any of her assumptions.

*Shed: Jackson* “There’s SO many girls on this show. Oh my god. I hope I’m with at least ONE of the two other boys. Chris really would toy with me and put them together on the opposite one without me, UGH. Not that the girls are bad, it’s just- Well, I’m no sexist, just- WHATEVER just trust me on this, ‘kay!? Anyway, Jennifer, Annabelle, and Cameron would be pretty cool too.”

*Shed: Rosie* Her eyes popped open in earnest shock. “There’s a lot of un-camp worthy stuff going on already! Jeez! Who raised these folks!?” She huffed. “Well, I’ll give them one chance each, which that all-black wearing girl better appreciate, ‘cause she said some unsavory things a minute ago! Oh, and that OTHER girl… she’s got like, a point and a half. Any worse offense, and she’ll have to go home, with a lesson at that! I’d love to be on her team, just to make sure she stays in line.” *End*

The last of the confessors tromped out to a beaming Chris. “Now on to the next landmark, we have the winners cabin. Which, as it sounds, is the better of the two cabins for only the most recent winners.” He described as they walked to it. 

They came to a quaint little cottage sitting in a field, another confessional shed sitting nearby. Right in front of it was a basic wooden fence leading up to the front door. Sitting upon the fence, there was a boy of the contestants’ age idly knocking his knees together, flicking his dark eyes from the clouds to the cast as they approached.

He sprung from his seat ahead of Chris, smiling wide and outstretching his arms. He was one of the most wiry people in existence it seemed, at a normal height and with brown skin. Dressed simply, he wore dark green jeans, brown dress shoes, and a golden yellow long-sleeved T-shirt. Well, less simply, he had a short black tophat perched on his head, concealing his hair. He had a weird pair of eyes where instead of his eyelids squinting as he emoted, they simply widened or contracted together perfectly, like the lens of a camera. “Chris! What a bunch!”

“Hello Lucas.” Chris groaned, lazily waving at the boy. “Care to tell this ‘bunch’ what you’re here for?” He sorta flicked his wrist over his shoulder.

Lucas hopped up to his side, training his sight on the others. “I’m Lucas, I’m with the people who know the island this season is taking place on.”

Chris sharply growled at him. Lucas blinked at the host, then brought his wrist to his eyes. With his other hand, he pulled back his sleeve a bit, stared at his skin, then looked up smiling once again. “I’m with the people who OWN this island!”

Chris smacked himself.

“I’ll just be around. I’m not working with the staff, so don’t go asking me for stuff.” Lucas continued.

“Like we can ask them for stuff anyway.” Jackson scoffed light-heartedly.

“Will you be doing… anything?” Nadine asked him.

He shrugged, giving a coy, innocent smile on his sharp-featured face. “I sure do love the idea of Reality TV chores. Much more fun than normal chores.”

Marina chuckled. “I bet, if you aren’t competing.”

“I suppose.”

“Anyway, Lucas’ll be around and if he tells you not to do something, listen to him because his dad might get mad if we mess up his island. I don’t really want to know what will happen if we tick him off.” Chris instructed, and Lucas waved to them at hearing his name. He turned to the boy. “I was showing them the good cabin, so if you could…”

Lucas tilted his torso at a weird angle. “Ooh! I like how they have to be two to a room. How do you think they’ll go about that!?”

Chris grimaced.

“Just pick whoever we like the best on the team.” Cameron shrugged. “Though I do admittedly not share very often.”

Lucas turned to them brimming with intrigue, but Chef shook his head from the back and waved the boy over. He perked up, and left the host’s side happily.

“You know what? The cabin speaks for itself when you go inside. Let’s move on to the loser’s cabin.” He lead the cast on the path. From the rear, Chef and Lucas shared dark giggles that all the others nervously picked up on.

They walked this path the longest yet, a curve in the walk suggesting they were walking the perimeter of something, hinted even more so as fences were a prominent feature on one side of them. A grey mass in the distance came into focus, nearly drawing all the attention from the shabby shack in front of it.

“Cool.” Annabelle said while looking up at the gnarled forest, in slight awe.

“Nasty.” Stella added.

“Isn’t it?” Chris asked proudly, before shaking back his senses. “Ahem. THIS is the loser’s cabin. It’s worse than the other one in most ways, the confessional shed is attached to the side, AND it comes with a chore.”

The teenagers groaned prematurely, before they even knew what it was. It made the host even happier. “After a challenge is lost, the losing team will come here after voting off one of their members. You will then be tasked with keeping the untamed part of the island at bay, however you can.”

“What?” Rosie cried, aghast, yet again. “If it’s growing then it’s alive, and it’s not okay in the slightest to cut away living trees!”

“Rosie Rosie Rosie, this forest is SUPER invasive and dangerous. I assure you, it’ll take over this island within a few DAYS of being left untouched, and there’s nothing good inside it. Trust me.” Chris seemed a bit serious. “And as for all of you, don’t be stupid, reckless, curious, or any of that other dumb teenage stuff and try to explore it. That is literally the only important job Lucas has, to make sure none of you act that idiotically.” For anyone who looked towards him, Lucas once again waved his hands at his name. “Because I’ve been at this for way too long to know that at least someone will try it.”

Rosie still looked worried, but after giving the weird forest another look, didn’t press it.

“Now!” Chris clapped his hands. “It’s time to find out who here you have to trust and rely on for your success in the challenges- your teammates! And don’t worry, once the merge hits, you’ll all be in charge of forest taming! But that’s a ways down the road. For now, will the people I call stand over to where I point” Chris motioned to two sides in front of him, Chef and Lucas moving behind the host. Chef whispered something to the boy, who went happily sprinting off.

“Tony,” The massive contestant trucked over to the right side.

“Annabelle,” He pointed to the left. She slightly nodded and contentedly moved away.

“Paulie,” She cockily made a ‘heh’ sound and fingered her bandana as she made her way to the right.

“Stella,” She brightened, coming up to Annabelle. “Hi!” She said, and Annabelle returned the greeting with a chuckle.

“Jackson,” The boy pumped his fist, then paused and coughed into it as he walked over. Paulie smiled at him, and he returned it.

“Marina,” Said contestant had been sweating bullets the second her sister had been called, and was relieved to be pointed in her direction- and so soon at that.

“Amelia,” She walked to the right with a happy wave, turning to face the host promptly once she arrived.

“Erika,” The twins paused before slowly making their way to the left.

“Jupiter,” They jolted, muttering “Ah, y- yes!” and walked to the right.

“Rosie,” She adjusted her non-existent tie before making her way over.

“Roger,” He pointed to the right to make sure, and Chris aggressively pointed in that direction even harder. Jackson beamed at his arrival.

“Cameron,” The girl sprung up as she made her way to the left, and Rosie’s eyes glittered down at her.

“Jennifer,” The goth nodded like she expected it, and went to the right.

“Nadine,” She calmly walked over to the left, no flair nor expression.

“And Avery,” Chris pointed for the final time, to the right.

The clearing was silent.

“Uhhh…. NO?” Jackson stated incredulously.

“What the heck, Chris?” Cameron shouted, flinging her arm around the twins’ shoulders. The twins, who had yet to emote to the announcement themselves, jumped slightly at the touch. “That’s not right, cool, OR possible. So stop joking, man!”

Chris chuckled remorselessly. “What’s wrong about it?”

“They CAN’T- not to offend-” Jennifer interrupted herself to make that note to the twins, “They literally can not be on both teams, and you know it, so stop being cruel.”

“Yeah, pretend I said it like that.” Cameron pointed to the goth.

“I’m not being cruel! As you can see with Marina and Stella, I’d never split apart sisters, and the twins still look together to me!” The host stifled a laugh.

*Shed: Jupiter* They sighed, their shoulders slumping. *End*

“That’s the opposite of funny, Chris.” Nadine grumbled, running her hand down her face.

He planted his hands on his hips. At this time, Lucas returned with two flashy props in hand. Chris didn’t pay him any mind yet. “Well I think we’re all forgetting to ask the people this is about. Avery! Erika! What do you say? Can you do it?”

The twins perked up, flicking their eyes to each other. They whispered in the space between them quickly. With the first smile they ever mustered in front of the others, Avery said, “We can handle it.”

Chris seemed to be the only one completely happy about that, but the contestants let it be.

“Um. So I guess we should like…” Paulie did an awkward step out, “Get a little closer?”

“Just a tad.” Amelia agreed, and the teams wedged a little closer, the twins tilting to be standing with them both.

“You all on the right,” The host reached behind him to take one of the props, “You are the Cheshire Queens.” He tossed the object, shaped like a long scepter with a big, heart-shaped gem sitting up top. Paulie caught it with a smile.

“And you,” He turned to the others, “Are the Hare Hatters.” He tossed a tube-shaped hat with white bunny ears coming out the sides to the team, and Stella eagerly caught it.

“It’s dumb!” She said, putting it on.

Chris ignored her. “With that, we can now,”

Lucas’s eyes grew wide behind him, bouncing on his heels, clasping his hands tightly.

“Start the first challenge.” The host stated simply. The boy behind him looked incredibly aggravated that it didn’t have the flair he was pumped for, and turned away. “A nice little scavenger hunt to get you guys used to the garden. At the expense of one of you on the losing team, of course, but such is life.” He produced two folded squares of paper from his back pocket. “Y’all ready?”

[ice-cream-under-stars]

Lost and Found (Jumin Han x Mc)

Chapter 1 (1,877 words)

Description: If black cats were a negative omen, did that mean white cats were a positive one? Of course, Mc never believed the superstitions revolving around cats, but it was a fleeting thought that had crossed her mind as she found herself mysteriously joining an organization which involved the owner of that equally mysterious white cat. Mc didn’t quite know the odds, but she knew they were low. However, she wasn’t sure if she believed in coincidence either...

Author’s note: Heya! I’m not very far into this (only in the middle of chapter three) and i have a very loose picture of where this is going so I’m not sure how long this fic will last. Anyways, for now, here’s chapter one! I usually regret posting my fan fictions later on but lets hope that doesn’t happen with this one hehe. 

This fic is sort of an au. It still loosely follows the og Mystic Messenger timeline, with some changes. One being that I’m going to slow down the flow of things. That way Jumin and Mc will have more time to develop feelings for each other. So i guess you could call this slow burn?? Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and if there are any grammatical errors, sorry!

Next chapter

Chapter 1

Meow! Mc made her way to the door of her apartment building. Meow! Before she could enter, her phone began to buzz in her pocket. Meow! She furrowed her brow and looked around. No cat in sight. After a shrug, she proceeded to read the text message she had just received. Meow! 

“What the—” Spinning her head around once more, Mc spotted a white Persian cat primly sitting not more than ten feet away. “Hey, kitty!” she cooed, kneeling down and holding out her hand. “Come here, baby.” The feline took her time, zigzagging toward Mc. She warily sniffed the hand offered before rubbing her face on it and purring. “Aww you’re just a sweetie. What you doing out here all alone, hm?” Of course, the response was purring. Mc scanned her surroundings again, only to find the street void of people. She returned her attention to the fluffy fur-ball, who was now on her back, playfully kicking and biting Mc’s hand. “I wonder how long you’ve been out here,” she mused. “Not long, I’m guessing.” Her coat was still relatively pristine. Mc proceeded to scoop up the cat and enter her apartment building.

Once inside her unit, she put the Persian down and made her way to the kitchen. Grabbing a chair, she placed it under an array of cabinets, moving aside the spices to grab the can of cat food in the back. Glancing at the can, Mc felt a small wave of sadness wash over her. She demounted from the chair and retrieved a tin bowl that hadn’t been used for a month now. After she dished up a few scoops, she placed it on the floor and waited for the feline to eat. She didn’t. Well, not at first. She sat there a moment, staring at it, then at Mc. “Go on.” Mc scratched the cat’s head and gradually ran her fingers down its back. That is when she dove into the meat; however, the moment Mc stopped, her (apparent) master chirped a series of short mews. Mc smiled. “Ah, so you won’t eat unless you’re pampered while doing so? Spoiled much?” But, not being able to resist that cute furry face, she obliged.

Next, Mc showed her new guest where the litter box was before plopping herself and the cat on the bed, both falling fast asleep.

The following morning, Mc asked around the area to see if they owned a white Persian cat, and showed them a picture. No luck. She knew it wouldn’t be that simple, seeing as she had never seen the cat before. 

  Thirty minutes passed before she returned to her apartment. She noticed the food she had left out before leaving that morning was licked clean out of the bowl, and it’s devourer lounging on the bed, bathing herself. “Oh, so now you’ll eat without me petting you?” Mc retorted, feigning annoyance.

After eating her own breakfast and taking a shower, she heard a knock on her apartment door. “You have a key, you can open it yourself!” she lazily shouted from atop her mattress. There was some fumbling before a woman entered. She had cropped hair that looked like milk chocolate and smooth light-brown skin.

“Well, excuse me for wanting to be polite!”

“Sav, our friendship is way past politeness.” Savannah collapsed onto the bed beside Mc and simply shrugged.

“Hey! Why is there a ton of fur on your comforter?!” Mc tore her gaze away from her phone.

“Uh so I sort of picked up a cat last night.”

“Wait, wha—?! Where is it? You got over Minnie already? I thought you said—“

“No, no, no! She found me last night and she was alone and I couldn’t leave her so I’m just letting her stay here until I find the owner.” As if she had been summoned, the feline in question hopped onto the bed and curled up next to Mc, completely ignoring Savannah. She rolled her eyes,

“Typical cat. So—,” a yawn interrupted her, “how do you plan to find this mystery owner? How do you even know she had an owner? Or what if the owner was being abusive, so the cat ran away.”

“Uh, that’s definitely not the case. Jeez, Sav, this isn’t some tragic pet movie.”

“But how do you know that for sure, hmm? For all you now, you could be trying to return her to the hell she just escaped!”

“Look at her coat. It’s extremely healthy. Look at it. She’s clearly groomed regularly and gets the best food. No one who cares about their cat wouldn’t abuse their cat.”

“Eh, wasn’t that a double negative?” Sav interjected. Mc put her foot on her friend’s head.

“The point is that I need to find the owner. They’re probably worried sick. Like— just imagine if the owner was a little girl. Hm? Sav, would you want some twelve year old girl to be crying and worried sick about their dear lost kitty cat?” Sav sighed exasperatedly.

“Fine,” she groaned. “So, what are you doing to find this twelve year old girl?”

“Well I already checked most of the other units in this building, and I just posted a pic on Instagram and Tumblr asking if anyone had lost a cat that looked like this one.”

“And?”

“Well, I just posted it. Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t have tons of followers like you who see my stuff instantly.”

“O—kay... so what do you plan on doing in the meantime?” Mc sat up.

“I guess I’ll continue to ask around locally. Wanna join me?”

“Ehhh what’s in it for me? A good conscience knowing I just saved a twelve year old girl from the depths of despair?”

“Well, that, and I’ll buy you a Starbucks.” Sav bolted up.

“Deal!”

Their inquiry proved to be unfruitful. That day, which had previously been planned out as a day they would hang out together before Savannah had to leave the city for a shoot, was spent up almost entirely looking for the owner of the mysterious Persian. It was four in the afternoon when Sav began to complain. Honestly, it surprised Mc that she managed to last that long.

“This is not how I imagined today was gonna go.”

“Me neither,” Mc mumbled. “How about we grab some dinner? Or do you need to head back and pack?”

“Who do you take me for? I’m already packed.”

“Alright, let’s get some dinner then, Miss proactive.”

The next day also unearthed no evidence as to who owned the cat. Mc decided to spend the day inside watching Netflix and YouTube, but kept a wary eye on her social media sites. She had made multiple posts, but the few replies she had gotten were along the lines of “Aw, cute! Hope you find the owner.”

The weekend ended. Mc had begun to think that she would have to keep her new feline friend until, on Monday morning, she woke to find that Savannah had called her three times and texted her five times. “Call me.” “Mc wake up!” “Hey its abt the cat.” “Call mehhh.” “Hellooo?” Mc bolted upright and dialed her friend.

“Finally! Don’t you have work today?!”

“Never mind that! What’s this about the cat?”

“Right, right. So you know how you said it could be owned by a twelve year old girl? Turns out she’s a twenty-seven year old man.”

“Wait, what? How do—”

“And guess who that is?”

“Uh—”

“Ju-min Ha-n!” Silence ensued. “Yo— please tell me you know who that is.”

“Uh, well—” An exasperated sigh came from the other side of the phone.

“Seriously, Mc, how do you live in the same city as the corporate heir to one of the most famous companies in South Korea and not even know who he is?!”

“What?! If he’s as important as you say he is, how the heck does his cat end up on the streets? Are you sure? How do you know she’s his?”

“I saw an online news article. Can you believe he had a news article put up about his missing cat? Usually people just post papers around saying ‘MISSING CAT.’” Mc replied thoughtfully,

“He obviously cares for her a lot.” Mc paused. “I can relate.”

“Anyways, he said he’d reward anyone who found her and returned her to him unharmed. The amount is uh... steep.” Mc brushed passed her friend’s statement.

“Send me the link to the article.”

“I cant. The photographer is here and ready to begin the shoot. Sorry! Just look up ‘Jumin Han, cat’ and you’ll get plenty of results. Talk later!”

Savannah wasn’t lying. There was more than just one article covering the topic. Mc clicked into the top website and scrolled down to the contact information. There was a phone number and an email address. Mc decided to dial the number right away. She hadn’t truly thought about it, as she was not apart of the high class world, but she subconsciously was expecting Mr. Han himself to pick up. She was startled when a female’s voice sounded on the other end.

“Hello, this is Chief Assistant Kang speaking.”

“O-oh... um... hello.” Her surprise was evident in her tone, but fortunately, the woman seemed to not notice or care.

“Do you know the whereabouts of the feline belonging to Mr. Jumin Han?” So formal. Mc could detect the weariness in the voice. In fact, the statement was monotone, as if the speaker had relayed it more than a million times that day.

“Hello? Miss, if this is a prank call I will hang up.”

“No! Please don’t hang up!” Mc sighed and continued. “I think I have Mr. Han’s cat.”

“‘Think’ or ‘know’?” She still didn’t show any type of surprise or urgency in her voice. This chick’s probably heard a lot of claims of having or seeing the white Persian; what with that reward, Mc mused.

“I’m pretty sure. I’d say she looks the same as the pictures in the ads. And her demeanor and coat scream ‘pampered.’” The woman’s voice grew more attentive.

“And where is the cat now?”

“Here with me at my apartment. I found her wandering near my apartment building and after she took a liking to me I took her in.”

“And how long as she been with you?”

“Since Friday night. I would have contacted you sooner but I had zero clue who she belonged to.”

“Could you provide any proof that you in fact do possess my employer’s cat?”

“I can send you a photo I took.”

“That will do. Send it to the email address on the website you got this number from. Goodbye.” Click.

Mc did as instructed. After ten minutes lapsed, she received a reply. It’s contents were along the lines of: 

“Mr. Han has identified the cat in the photo as his own. As soon as possible, please, bring her, safely and comfortably, to—” and an address was added. Mc glanced at the time. It was almost 5 p.m. and that meant rush hour. Taxis would be difficult to come by; but when the C&R corporate heir’s cat was in need of returning to her owner, how could one refuse?