#i feel more nostalgia for that place than where i actually come from. it’s in my bones

[luvvsbian]

the only place that feels like home

[ryuyukawa]

─Cold Espresso

∘₊✧─── ❀ ───✧₊∘

★ Pairing: Fiddleford McGucket x Reader

✦ Genre: Fluff? Friends to Not-Yet-Lovers???

★ Warning: None

✦ Summary: You and your old buddy from college decided to meet up at the usual coffee shop you two used to visit. Though I don't think neither the two of you planned for something to go in another way you didn't expect..

Note: I feel like he doesn't get much lovee and I think hes adorable. Im not sure what the title should be so..

The café is just as you remember it. The brick exterior hasn’t aged a day, and the sign that reads "Becky's Brews" still hangs slightly crooked above the door. You stand outside for a moment, taking in the familiar scene, and a wave of nostalgia washes over you. It’s been years since you last set foot here, and longer still since you shared this space with McGucket. The memories come rushing back, a collage of late-night study sessions and laughter echoing through these very walls.

Pushing the door open, you’re greeted by the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The inside hasn’t changed much either—the same warm lighting, the mismatched furniture that somehow feels cohesive, and the old jukebox in the corner that’s always playing a tune just loud enough to be heard, but not so loud as to intrude on conversations.

You scan the room, and there he is—Fiddleford McGucket, sitting at your usual table by the window, just like old times. He looks up as you approach, and a grin spreads across his face as he waved you over.

"Well, if it ain’t the ol’ bookworm ‘emself!" he exclaims, standing up to give you a hug. His accent, thick and unmistakably Southern, wraps around you like a warm blanket. You’ve always loved the way he talks, the way his words roll off his tongue with a drawl that’s both comforting and endearing.

"Hey, Fidds," you reply, smiling as you embrace him. His arms are tight 'round you, and for a moment, you’re transported back to those carefree college days when everything seemed simpler, when your biggest worry was acing the next exam or deciding where to grab lunch.

"You ain’t changed a bit," he says adjusting his glasses as you both sit down. "Still got that same ol’ smile, too. How’s life been treatin’ ya?"

You chuckle, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. "Life’s been... different. Busy, mostly. How about you?"

Fidds leans back in his chair, he fixed his glasses as his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Busy’s one way to put it. Ain’t nothin’ too excitin’, but I’ve been gettin’ by. Missed this place, though. Missed hangin’ out with you."

His words catch you off guard, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. You’ve missed him too, more than you realized.

"I missed you too, Fidds. It’s been way too long."

He nods, a serious expression crossing his face. "Yeah, it has. Too damn long. But we’re here now, ain’t we? Let’s make the most of it."

For the next hour, the two of you fall into an easy rhythm, slipping back into the kind of banter that only old friends share. You talk about everything—your jobs, your families, the places you’ve been, the things you’ve seen. Fidds tells you about what he'd been working on; how he spends his days in his garage, creating techs; how well hes actually getting by, getting a job offering at some place. You tell him about your career, the ups and downs, and how you’ve been searching for something more, though you’re not quite sure what that "more" is.

As the conversation flows, you find yourself noticing things about Fiddleford that you hadn’t paid much attention to before. The way his eyes light up when he talks about something he’s passionate about, the way his hands move when he gestures, the sound of his laughter—it’s all so familiar, yet somehow different. There’s a spark between you, something unspoken but palpable, and it catches you off guard.

"So," Fidds drawls, leaning forward with a playful grin, "anyone special in your life these days? Or are ya still too busy chasin’ that dream of yours?"

The question hangs in the air for a moment, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

"No, no one special," you reply, trying to sound casual. "I’ve been too focused on work, I guess."

Fidds raises an eyebrow. "Really now? Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ ambitious, but a pretty thing like you, I reckon you could have anyone you wanted if ya tried."

You laugh, though your cheeks flush slightly at the compliment. "I could say the same about you, Fidds. What about you? Anyone special?"

He shrugs, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. "Nah, no one right now. Haven’t found the right person, I suppose. But who knows, maybe I just ain’t been lookin’ in the right places."

His words linger in the air, and for the first time, you feel a shift in the atmosphere. The easygoing conversation between old friends suddenly feels charged with something more, something you hadn’t anticipated. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but there’s a tension now, a pull that you can’t ignore.

The afternoon sun filters through the window, casting a warm glow over the table. Fidds’s gaze locks onto yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. There’s a question in his eyes, something he’s holding back, and you can feel the weight of it pressing against the silence.

Finally, he breaks the moment with a soft chuckle, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. "Well, look at us, gettin’ all serious. We’re supposed to be catchin’ up, not diggin’ into each other’s love lives."

You smile, though your mind is still racing. "Yeah, you’re right. Let’s not get too deep, huh?"

But even as you say it, you know that something has changed between you and Fidds. The old friendship is still there, but there’s something new too—something that makes your heart beat a little faster, something that leaves you wondering what might happen if you both stopped holding back.

────

The afternoon drifts into evening as the conversation between you and Fidds meanders through old memories and new musings. The light outside has dimmed, and the soft, warm glow of the café's hanging lights creates a cozy atmosphere that wraps around the two of you like a blanket. As you talk, the world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this little bubble of familiarity and something... more.

Fiddleford leans back in his chair, tipping it slightly as he balances on the two back legs, a mischievous grin on his face. "Remember that time we tried sneakin’ into the library after hours? You were so dead set on gettin’ that book for your paper, and I was just along for the ride."

You laugh, shaking your head at the memory. "How could I forget? We almost got caught by campus security. I thought we were going to get expelled or something."

"Aw, shucks," Fiddleford drawls, his grin widening, "they wouldn’t’ve expelled ya. You were their star student. Now me, on the other hand… they probably wouldn’t’ve batted an eye if I’d just disappeared."

"Don’t say that," you chide, though you know he’s joking. "You were always smarter than you gave yourself credit for."

His expression softens, and he gives you a look that’s half-teasing, half-serious. "Yeah, well, it’s easier to believe that when you got someone like you around. You always made me feel like I could do more, be more."

You don’t know how to respond to that. There’s an intensity in his eyes that’s different from the playful banter you’re used to. It’s as if he’s seeing you in a way he never has before, and you can’t help but wonder if you’re seeing him differently too.

The conversation lulls, and the silence between you is thick with unspoken words. Fidds takes a deep breath, his chair coming back down to all four legs as he leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. He’s closer now, close enough that you can see your own reflection in his eyes.

"Can I tell ya somethin’?" he asks, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You nod, your heart starting to race again. "Yeah.. Sure? What is it?"

Fidds looks down at his hands, fidgeting with the edge of the napkin in front of him. When he looks back up, there’s a vulnerability in his gaze that you’ve never seen before. "I’ve been thinkin’ about this for a while now... and, well, maybe it’s just the nostalgia talkin’, but… I think I missed more than just our friendship."

The words hang in the air between you, and your breath catches in your throat. You don’t know what to say, but the way he’s looking at you makes it clear that he’s waiting for some kind of response.

Before you can find the words, the door to the café opens with a jingle, breaking the moment. A group of people walk in, laughing and chatting as they find a table near the counter. The noise disrupts the moment, and you see Fidds pull back slightly, the intensity in his eyes dimming as if he’s suddenly unsure of himself.

You’re unsure too. There’s a part of you that wants to reach across the table, to take his hand and tell him that you feel the same way, that maybe there’s something more between you than just friendship. But there’s also a part of you that’s scared—scared of what this could mean, of what might happen if you cross that line.

Fidds clears his throat, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Maybe I’m just talkin’ nonsense. We’ve had a lot of good times, haven’t we? I’m just glad we’re still in each other’s lives."

You can see the effort he’s putting into pulling back, into pretending that the moment didn’t happen. But it did, and now the air between you feels different, charged with the possibilities of what could be.

Before you can decide what to do next, Fidds stands up, stretching his arms above his head as he brushed his fingers in his hair. "Whew, it’s gettin’ late. How ‘bout we head out? Walk ya to your car?"

You blink, surprised by how quickly the conversation has turned, but you find yourself nodding. "Yeah─ Yeah, sure. That sounds good."

The two of you gather your things and head for the door. The evening air is cool against your skin as you step outside, and you walk in silence for a few moments, your mind racing with everything that’s been left unsaid.

When you reach your car, Fidds turns to you, his hands shoved into his pockets. He looks at you for a long moment, as if he’s trying to decide whether to say something or let it go.

Finally, he speaks, his voice soft. "I meant what I said back there. I’ve missed more than just our friendship. But... I ain’t gonna push ya into somethin’ you’re not ready for. Just... uh.. think about it, okay?"

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. "I will.. I promise."

He smiles, a small, almost sad smile, and then he steps back, giving you a little wave. "Night, then. We’ll talk soon?"

"Yeah," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "We’ll talk soon."

As you watch him walk away, a thousand thoughts swirl in your mind. The possibility of something more between you and Fiddleford is real, and it terrifies you as much as it excites you. You know that whatever happens next, things between you will never be the same.

You get into your car, your hands trembling slightly as you grip the steering wheel. For a long moment, you just sit there, staring out the windshield at the fading figure of Fidds as he walks down the street. And then, just as he’s about to turn the corner and disappear from view, you make a decision. You open the car door and step out, your heart racing as you call out his name.

He stops, turning around to look at you, his expression unreadable.

"Fidds," you say, your voice trembling with emotion, "I—"

But before you can finish, the sound of your phone ringing cuts through the night, startling you both. You glance down at the screen, recognizing the name of your boss flashing across it.

You hesitate, torn between answering the call and the words you were about to say. Fidds watches you, waiting, the moment hanging in the balance.

And just like that, the decision is taken out of your hands. You silence the phone, looking back at Fidds, but the spell is broken.

"I... I’ll call you," you manage to say, knowing that the conversation will have to wait.

Fidds nods, a flicker of something like hope in his eyes. "Yeah... sure thing. Take care, okay?"

You watch as he turns and walks away, the opportunity slipping through your fingers. And as you stand there, alone in the quiet of the night, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve just might've let something important slip away.

Sooo.. How was it?? Good? bad? Feel like I didn't do him much justice (.∘ˊ◠ˋ∘.)

If this get enough notes I'll maybe continue it?? Oh, I also changed the layout a bit, if you did notice :D

Thoughts and criticisms are welcomed, as it would help me improve on my writing!

[quiddling]

Do you have any more lore about your Saera son targ oc? 😊

My sweet sweet boy.... The Bastard of Volantis !!! I love this guy sm so I do actually have a lot... and i realise now I haven't said anything about him other than he is Saera's son on tumblr before so i'm going to ramble on and on after the break heheh [:<

Aenor Targaryen, an infamous natural son of Princess Saera Targaryen. His father's identity remained an enduring mystery. Aenor was born in 98 AC and raised in the Free City of Volantis, where his mother ruled as proprietor over a famed pleasure house. Though born bastard, Aenor inherited the distinctive Valyrian features of House Targaryen - pale silver-blonde hair and deep purple eyes. Aenor himself made no public assertions for the crown much like his mother, though he took pride in his dragonblood heritage.

He is an irreverent and cocksure young man who revelled in the luxurious vices of the Volantene lifestyle. From a young age, Aenor displayed a keen intellect and a natural charisma that set him apart. He inherited his mother's sharp wit and political acumen, quickly learning to navigate the complex social dynamics of Volantis' upper echelons. Despite his bastard status, Aenor carries himself with the confidence and poise befitting his Targaryen heritage.

Aenor's relationship with his mother, is one of the defining aspects of his character. Despite the unconventional nature of their lives, Aenor loves his mother dearly and would defend her with his life if necessary.

As a boy, Aenor would often sit at his mother's feet, enraptured by her tales of dragons and the legendary Dragonpit of King's Landing. Saera's stories painted vivid pictures of scaled behemoths soaring through the skies, their roars echoing across the realm. These tales instilled in Aenor a lifelong fascination with dragons and a secret longing to one day see one with his own eyes.

Occasionally, in rare moments of nostalgia or vulnerability, Saera would share glimpses of her life as a princess in the Red Keep. These stories were always tinged with a mixture of fondness and bitterness, revealing the complex emotions she still harboured towards her past. Aenor learnt to treasure these rare insights into his mother's former life, understanding the trust she placed in him by sharing them.

However, Saera's recollections of her father, King Jaehaerys I Targaryen, were infrequent and laden with resentment. The lingering pain from their estrangement was evident whenever she spoke of him. This unresolved conflict between Saera and Jaehaerys left a lasting impact on Aenor, shaping his own complicated feelings towards his heritage and the idea of family loyalty.

Through his mother's stories and silences alike, Aenor developed a nuanced understanding of power, family, and the weight of the Targaryen name. This understanding would come to influence his own ambitions and his approach to navigating the complex world of politics and personal relationships in Volantis and beyond.

I'm still not 100% sure on most of this part of his lore i just wanted my sweet boy to have a dragon and see the rest of the world....but regardless of his illegitimate status, Aenor managed to claim a wild dragon in Essos. The beast, which Aenor named Naerion, was described as being a medium-sized dragon with brilliant orange scales that covered most of his body, while his underbelly and wing membranes were described as pale striking gold. His distinctive colouration made him easily identifiable in the skies, earning him the moniker "the Sunset Wyrm" among soldiers and smallfolk alike. His wings, when spread, cast a shadow the colour of sunset. During the Dance of the Dragons, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, on behalf of his mother Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, sought to bolster the blacks' forces with additional dragonriders. Jacaerys dispatched envoys to Volantis, seeking out the Targaryen Bastard. He was initially reluctant to involve himself in Westerosi affairs. However, the promise of legitimisation and lands upon Rhaenyra's victory swayed Aenor and he agreed to cross the Narrow Sea with Naerion.

[justherefortua]

finished the young blood book! Though it’s definitely YA rather than as mature, it gave me a lot of nostalgia for the post-S1 fics where people thought they were goin gto be ported to childhood, and I thought the little details and the way the characters were characterized was actually really good! I loved how many parallels there were to canon and the further elaboration on the day to day life of the Umbrella Academy (and Viktor)

I wouldn’t take the book as a 100% canon source, but here are some disconnected small details that I enjoyed: SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

- Twice trying to wrangle the hargreeves is referred to as “herding cats”, which is very accurate

- Grace custom sews their outfits and adjusts them for each member 🥺🥺🥺🥺 Luther gets a new one every time he grows, Diego has secret compartments for his knives, Ben has tentacle openings, Viktor’s looks a little too big on him

- I could definitely see how this Luther turns into S1 Luther but also he’s such a good guy. He just wants to help people and receive hugs

- Diego;;; my goodness. He loves his mom and also very much has a black and white view of justice. This is when he figures out he likes all black utility gear rather than the uniform

- Allison )::: allison )::: It’s so weird to see her feel out of place among other girls considering she grows up to be a famous actress but I think it was a good moment, as well as foreshadowing for her whole issues with the rumors

- Klaus is so vibrant here. He learned how to hotwire a car (They call Hargreeves’ car Hermes) at 12 from a ghost, regularly sneaks out of the house through the sewage system (the siblings refuse to do this) and is the life of the party

- Five was mentioned and acknowledged a couple times and every time it made me go ): The revelation that Ben had a daily check-in with Klaus asking about whether he could see Five or not and always believed Five was out there somewhere destroyed me. My crumbs ): oh ):

- Ben is my favorite character so I’m so glad he gets a POV here and an actual voice! He definitely has a good heart but also definitely doesn’t fall into the solely “shy and totally passive” stereotype <3 also im just happy for content of umbrella ben i miss him

- Viktor!!! He isn’t sure if Mom claps for his violin because of if he’s actually good or. He’s very lonely but the kids do include him a little bit which is lovely. Definitely some parallels to S1 canon. Also! Some Viktor trans moments where he ruminates on that for a little bit without knowing the actual cause, the mirror line has relevance here. I thought it was handled nicely but obviously I can’t speak on experiences that aren’t my own.

Other misc details:

- Ben gets calmer under high pressure situations and therefore becomes pretty good at pool despite never having played

- Klaus likes to jump from roofs for the fun of it and just thinks his body is extremely resilient to head trauma. Klaus. Klaus no. 😭

- Diego uses “Boy Scout” as a insult for Luther, who doesn’t mind because Boy Scouts are supposed to be dependable

- Diego has always been pretty good at dancing

- The Umbrella Academy never stick around to clean up after themselves on missions

- Ben and Viktor can fit together in the passenger seat

- Favorite meals: Ben likes PB+J and potato chips, Klaus likes bubblegum ice cream, Diego likes roast beef, Luther hamburger and fries, and a hot dog for Allison (though according to her it hasn’t been her fav food in years, and also she forgot Five’s favorite and Viktor’s favorite)

- Klaus listens to heavy metal (to drown out the ghosts), Allison likes pop music

- Viktor learned how to drive one year before this book, taught by Pogo. He has his license! Klaus knows how to drive too but he drives much more recklessly lol

- Allison once had a solo magazine cover and she can’t remember whether she rumored for it or not (foreshadowing)

- Ben has never told anyone that the tentacles hurt when they come out ())):) [BODY HORROR TW] They are also literally slithering under his ski, he can feel em with his organs, and the skin is tender where they come out

- Allison knows CPR. and uses it after one of the siblings has a near death experience 👍

[ashonheavenscloud]

i fall || b. chan

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ contents: bang chan x fem!reader, angst of a hopeless love, autumnal wistfulness and nostalgia :(

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ word count: 4.8k

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ warnings: none

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ a/n: i love love love using seasons as a motif oh my goshhhhh. enjoy! (even if it’s heartbreaking)

now playing - 21 - gracie abrams

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Chan should have known from your first whirlwind of a meeting that he’d fallen into something hopeless.

Felix had been the one to introduce the two of you; you’d appeared out of the blue, on a particularly cool autumn afternoon. Chan had been minding his business, listening to Felix rant about his day while the older boy cleaned the coffee shop tables and counters. The place had been empty- courtesy of small town living- and the sound of a bell had alerted the two of them instantly of a new arrival.

His first glimpse of you had been you running, grinning as you all but jumped into Felix’s arms with exclamations and laughter. “Lix! Oh my god, you’re actually still here!”

“And you’re back!” Felix replied, holding you out at arms distance. Chan observed from the sidelines, a little confused but more curious. Your smile was bright and captivating, and he found himself instantly liking you. He didn’t know why, he just had a good feeling about you from the beginning.

“Ah!” Felix exclaimed, seeming to remember Chan’s presence. “Y/n, I’d like you to meet Chan. He’s a good friend.”

You exchanged hellos as Felix babbled, “Chan, Y/n used to live just in the next town. Although she’s been slacking on her visits.”

“Hey, I never promised anything.” You argued, lightheartedly before turning back to Chan.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he expected when meeting you, but he was surprised when conversation flowed so easily that Felix teased you must have met before and hidden it from him. You were just so engaging and exciting- and it didn’t take long for Chan to consider you close to his heart.

It was odd, considering how different the two of you really were. Chan could never understand your passion for travelling- it came in part with your job, but mostly because- as you confessed- you didn’t like to stay put for long, preferring a more scattered existence. Chan himself found comfort in the stability of the city he’d always loved, it’s steady rhythm that remained a constant in his life. He could never seem to leave it for long- it’s borders were his home, and the people inside his family.

“We, my friend, are clearly very different.” You’d chuckled, shaking your head.

“Can’t be that different.” Chan insisted, ducking behind the cafe counter with a shrug. “How do you feel about blueberry muffins?”

You smiled at him- and looking back, he’d been a lost cause even this early on. He hadn’t been able to help it when your smile was somehow brighter than fireworks and took his breath away just as easily.

Chan wondered for a long time if your meeting was fate. You popped back into his life with every change of the seasons, threw him for a loop and then disappeared again for weeks at a time. Where he figured it should have driven him crazy, he only felt more anticipation for the next whirlwind you brought him- and you never failed to come back no matter how long since your last connection. You returned like autumn; and Chan couldn’t help but fall harder for you every time.

And now your latest visit was just beginning- Felix and Chan had picked you up from the train station the day before, and you’d informed them you planned on staying for longer than your usual couple days. That small piece of news was enough to make Chan both excited and anxious. While he had more time with you, he knew it would speed past like always. He figured he should plan the days, work out his free time and whatnot. However, as always, you seemed to sneak up on him and throw all his meticulous strategizing out the window- and this time was no different.

It was a particularly cool day- only a few nights since your arrival- when he found you standing in a faint drizzle, huddled in a forest green raincoat by the bus stop. Your boots absentmindedly scuffed at the colourful leaves that littered the ground in soaked piles. Their earthy smell was one of your favourite scents, Chan knew; it was something you never failed to remind him of.

You glanced up at him just before he reached you, and a bright smile lit your face. He felt his heart stammer, the damned thing a reminder of your affect on him.

“I always liked the rain.” You raised your face to the sky, smiling at the tiny droplets that coated your face and dampened your hair. The peace in your expression was something Chan envied. Content always seemed to come so easily to you. “It makes me feel alive.”

“I suppose it does.” Chan replied softly, holding his free hand out to let the rain douse his palm. After a minute of silence, he bobbed his umbrella in your vague direction. “Does that mean you wouldn’t like to share this?”

You mumbled something that seemed suspiciously sarcastic before shuffling to join Chan under the umbrella. His nerves tingled at your sudden closeness, the warmth of your body pressed against his side. His heart was beating frantically, and he couldn’t help but grin.

“Thank you.” You peered at him, and nudged him. “What’s with the smile?”

“Nothing.” Chan replied quickly; your smile grew and he felt compelled to add an excuse. “It’s just that you’re right. The rain, it’s… refreshing in a way.”

“Of course I’m right.” You tossed your hair dramatically. “I’m always right.”

Chan laughed, and you flicked water at him.

“It’s nice to see you.” 

His eyes swiveled to meet your own, caught off guard by the sudden confession. You were rarely, if ever, forthright with your affection.

“Out of nowhere?” He had to question with a flustered chuckle.

You shrugged, staring out at the grey sky.  “I don’t know. It actually seemed overdue.”

And your bus pulled up then, leaving Chan to puzzle over your words as he was left alone in the rain.

He wondered late into the night what exactly you’d meant, his heart becoming a little too excited at the prospect of you staying for a while… whatever a while meant. He knew he shouldn’t hope, but in the early am’s he couldn't help it. He couldn’t help but imagine what it might be like to have you here. Here, with him, close enough to touch and hold. 

But he was getting carried away, he knew, shaking his head to try and clear it of the ridiculous idea. It didn’t matter what happened in the next two weeks. At the end of it all, you would be gone again. He shouldn’t expect anything.

Yet he hoped- and he hoped more strongly than he’d intended. Perhaps, in hindsight, it hadn’t been entirely his fault. You’d been consistent in meeting him somewhere along his bus route, and the ride through town had been so much lighter with you there to talk with. He asked you so many questions, and you never seemed to grow bored of answering them. How do you take your coffee? Straight black, but on occasion you’d add sugar. Do you like thunderstorms? The only form of rain you didn’t approve of. And even though you travel so much, where do you think your heart calls home? For that one, you’d laughed half heartedly, “I shouldn’t-”

“Tell me.” Chan was far too curious. 

You paused to play with the straps of your bag, staring out at the rain and the rainbow of trees. He almost wondered if you might not answer, or say something vague, or reply with ‘I don’t know.’ But then you looked at him with the echo of a smile.

“I suppose it’s always been here.”

He shouldn’t hope. He knew it would bring himself nothing but heartache.

But god, he couldn’t help it with you.

…

As he’d expected, the days flew by. He spent as much time as he could with you- at least, when he could find you. Felix joined you occasionally, but he was often busy with papers to complete and tests to study for. His first year of university was already proving to be difficult. Chan couldn’t complain in this instance- although he felt for the boy, he was also more than happy to spend his time with you, just the two of you. All the while though, he had to remind himself that you weren’t staying- like always, he would watch you leave again.

A couple days before you left, Chan convinced you to meet him at his tiny house. It had been a while since you’d been there, and Chan knew there was a particular something- or someone- you’d like to see.

“Berry!” You exclaimed, the fluffy spaniel immediately racing over at the sound of the door opening. You crouched to pet the puppy, tail wagging enthusiastically, and for a few minutes Chan just watched you with a smile. 

“She missed you.”

It was meant to say more than that, and maybe you picked up on that- because you turned your face away with a small grin. “Seems like it.”

Berry decided petting wasn’t enough and ran to find a toy to bring back. In the meantime, Chan urged you further into the house, a small one story that still sometimes felt too big to Chan. It was nice to have someone- even if momentarily- fill it again.

“Nothing’s changed…” you murmured, falling onto the nearby sofa with a sigh. “I don’t even think that pile of clothes in the corner have moved-”

“Hey, of course they have.” Chan laughed, cheeks flaming as he scooped up the various items and stuffing them hastily into his room close by. “Felix dropped these off- he didn’t want them and offered them to me.”

“If you say so.”

Chan threw a pillow at you, which you caught with a laugh and hugged tightly- oddly endearing to him. “Want something to eat? Drink?”

He smiled to himself when he heard your feet hit the floor and patter after him into the kitchen. “Is that even a question?”

He laughed, swinging open the fridge. “Soda?”

“You know me so well.”

He couldn’t help but grin as he pulled out a grape soda for you and a ginger ale for himself. After collecting a small plate of mini donuts to go along, you both settled on the sofa again, with Berry curled up between you.

“You know, I bet it doesn’t taste half bad together.” You insisted, imitating dipping a donut into Chan’s drink.

“No way!”

“It’s not that different from milk and cookies! Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“It’s not about adventure, it’s about-”

“If it’s disgusting, at least you’ll have tried.” 

“I’ll stick to what I know, thanks.” Chan laughed, taking a sip of his soda.

You shrugged, grinning.

It was moments like these that filled Chan’s heart the most- and simultaneously made it sink. Because it wouldn’t last. Because soon enough, this house would be painfully empty again. Of course, Felix would come occasionally- when he had time- and Berry was good company. But… it wasn’t the same as you. 

“You said nothing’s different.” Chan murmured, setting down his drink. 

You blinked at him. “Is there?”

Chan nodded, standing and motioning for you to follow him. He felt strangely nervous as you both entered his bedroom, and Chan stopped just inside.

“Look.”

You paused in the doorway, following where he pointed before your hand flew to cover the gasp from your mouth. “Chan! You got it!”

Chan looked down shyly, fingers lightly brushing the head of the sand coloured guitar sitting beside his bed. “Yeah, I took your advice.”

The last time you’d been here, Chan had confessed to wanting to learn to play the guitar. But he’d been unsure- the cost of the instrument alone had been deterring- but you’d encouraged him to go for it.

“Worst thing that happens is you don’t end up loving it.” You’d told him. “But… you could. You really could.”

Now, you raced over to gently touch the instrument, fingertips tracing the edges. “Oh my god, Chan. And?”

“And… I really like it.” He admitted with a small laugh- for some reason he felt nervous as he lifted the instrument and plopped onto the bed. “I’m sure I’m not that good yet, but-”

“Play for me!” You insisted- ah, right. That’s why he was nervous. Of course you’d ask for him to play.

“I’m still learning, really-”

“I don’t care, I just want to hear you.” You pleaded, sitting beside him on the bed. Your knees brushed his, sending a jolt through Chan’s body at your proximity. Your eyes were shining as he looked back at you, already knowing he was defeated. 

He could never help it with you.

“Alright.” Chan blew out a breath. “Don't hope for much though.”

You just waited, chin propped on your hands- and so Chan counted to three in his head, before strumming the first chord.

It was a familiar song to you both- a favourite you both shared, a sentimental love song you knew every word to. And although Chan was slow at remembering the chords, and you weren’t the best singer, a soft melody filled the room as you hummed to his strumming. Chan filled in with harmonies, closing his eyes to listen as peace took over his heart. Your voice, the song- he could live in this moment forever. And he didn’t even notice the way you were watching him, until the song ended and he opened his eyes to find your sparkling gaze and happy smile focused on him.

The last chord faded and was replaced with an almost tangible silence as Chan’s grip on the guitar loosened, and he let it gently slide to the floor. His eyes could not leave yours as he held his breath, fingertips tingling. He wanted to reach out to you, he wanted to take your hand that sat so temptingly close to his on the blankets. Just the thought made his stomach jolt nervously. He was frozen- and then the moment was over.

You blinked and looked away, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You’re not half bad.”

“Thanks.” Chan replied, because he didn’t know what the hell else to say. His mind was a mess of questions paired with screaming disappointment that he’d let his chance pass.

His chance?

This was what he contemplated long after you’d said goodbye and parted ways. He couldn’t deny the tension that had hovered in the air when your eyes had locked and he hadn’t seemed to be able to turn away. Even more rattling, though, was the heavy feeling of his heart when he thought about that moment. Because… 

Gosh, it had never been this hard to imagine you not being here.

Why was it so difficult this time? He’d thought the miles between you would be bearable as long as he knew that you’d turn up again- he’d been fairly content with it for a time- but for some reason, the idea of watching you walk away even once more had him pacing in his room at nearly 4 am two days before your departure. He’d known damn well not to dabble in optimism for this particular situation, but he hadn’t been able to help it. He loved you. He could admit it now, a silent confession to the stars that would listen. He loved you desperately, feverently, hopelessly. And now, he didn’t know if he could say goodbye this time around.

It was either insanity or the product of a panicking, blinded heart- which is, by all accounts, very nearly the same thing- when he asked you to meet him at the cafe you’d first met at those many years ago. It was a cloudy but pleasant evening, the sky barely darkening as a light sprinkling of cold rain dampened the streets. You were already waiting for him when he arrived, and Chan wasn’t sure if the feeling in his chest was warmth or dread when he noticed you’d remembered his coffee order- and it sat across from you, steam curling steadily into the air.

Chan felt anything but steady at this moment. Because he didn’t even know what he was going to say; he just knew he had to do something.

“Hi.” Chan greeted you with a small smile, ducking into the empty seat as you responded with your own hello. Silence settled over the cafe- interrupted only by a shuffling employee’s feet and the whir of machinery- before you cleared your throat.

“You were quite mysterious over the phone.” You stirred the tea in your mug, swirling the tea bag around and around before turning a teasing smile his way. “Well?”

Chan laughed, a short and nervous laugh, before shrugging. “Well,” he blew at his drink to cool it- and to buy himself a bit of time to mull over his words- before saying, “I suppose this is just a last little… something before you-”

His shrug felt heavy, like his very body loathed any reference to you leaving. You merely smiled, as Chan distracted himself with a sip of his cappuccino. Yes. Just the way he liked it…

“Everything comes to an end at some point.” You answered simply with a smile. How could you smile? Chan felt like he was being pulled in two directions, and getting ready to snap. “I mean, even life ends- we all die, don’t we? Ah, gosh-” you laughed, sipping your own drink. “I didn’t mean for it to sound so dark and final.”

He didn’t know what to say. He felt like a thread fraying, piece by piece, and he was sitting here pretending like the thought of you leaving tomorrow didn’t make him bat crazy. He remained silent, gripping his mug a little too tightly.

Either you didn’t notice or didn’t want to say anything, because you just kept talking. “It was wonderful to come. To see you, to see Felix. I’ve always loved this place… especially in autumn.”

Snap. Snap. Each tiny bit of his thread.

“It is beautiful.” He made himself say, a desperate attempt to keep himself together. 

You smiled at him, and said, “Thank you for making me feel so welcomed when I’m here, Chan. I… don’t know how to tell you how much that means to me.”

He couldn’t do this.

“Ah, I almost forgot-” you dug into your bag, and pulled out something small. Chan watched as you cradled a small box in your hands. “I meant to give it to you all week but… well, honestly, I didn’t know how to do it.”

You handed it to Chan, who surveyed the creamy white container, simple and plain. And when he opened the box…

It was a picture, framed simply in black. What took Chan’s breath away was the photo- he knew exactly where it was from. Last year, you’d visited for New Years and joined him and Felix and a few other people on the roof of the cafe for a celebration. You’d counted down until the New Year, and in the spur of the moment you’d pecked his cheek- after all, tradition right? you’d said while laughing, while Chan had tried desperately not to appear as flustered as he’d been. You hadn’t made a big deal out of it, so neither had Chan; he hadn’t said anything about it since, and neither had you- but here you were, frozen together in the picture. You’d kept that? Chan barely had time to take it in before you were speaking again, words coming a mile a minute.

“… I found it, so I printed it out and all that- and I don’t know, I thought you might want it. I mean,” you laughed, and it sounded uncharacteristically nervous. “I wanted you to have it. This is kind of my… confession.”

His mind was spinning, but it was still able to latch onto that word- and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

“Because I’m leaving again, and Chan… I just had to tell you. Isn’t that selfish? But you deserve to know that I care about you more than you might think.”

No. No, why like this? 

In every scenario he’d imagined today would go, this hadn't even crossed his mind. You… and him… but you were…

He was trying to grasp words to say, anything at all but they escaped him. He was completely thrown off guard, and his heart felt like it was coming up his throat. His hands dropped to the table, too heavy now to lift. His eyes drifted from the picture frame clutched between his fingers and your hand sitting inches away.

Inches.

You were still speaking, “I kept putting off giving it to you for some reason. But it will be so busy at the train station, and I didn’t want to-”

“You could stay, you know.”

The thread had snapped, the words bursting from him before he’d even registered them- and coming out more choked than he’d intended. You met Chan’s gaze, and he could see the warring of your mind before you slowly shook your head. 

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” 

“I don’t know, Chan. I feel crowded if I stay here too long. Like I can’t breathe right, like… like I’m trapped.”

He didn’t understand. He knew you cared for him, knew you might even share a fraction of the adoration he had for you. Why wouldn’t you even try?

“I’m not like you, Chan.” You added softly, tracing your index finger absentmindedly against your mug. Maybe to avoid looking at him. “I could never be content with a simple life. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with one, just… I would hate it. I would grow to despise this place, and I’m afraid I might begin to despise you with it.”

“I don’t believe that.” Chan whispered- mostly because he didn’t want to.

You smiled a bit at that, and looked up at him with sad, soulful eyes. “Would you be happy, then, to leave? To come along with me instead?”

He hated the way his eyes burned with the beginnings of tears. And he really hated that you both knew the answer.

“I know.” You whispered, turning away to gaze at the vibrant trees outside. Raindrops slipped from the colourful leaves and splashed into tiny puddles forming along the sidewalk. “That’s why I won’t ask it of you.” After a pause, you said. “It’s a dream, Chan, nothing more.”

“Then why do you keep coming back?”

He caught the smallest tug of your teeth on your bottom lip, before you turned back to him. “Because I liked this dream. Maybe even loved it.”

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bear this anymore. The distance had used to excite him in a way, as it kept him on his toes waiting for you- but now it just hurt. He wanted you close and then closer- and then some.

“Just… think about it.” He pleaded, unable to stop himself from reaching out to take your hand. The coolness of your skin sent a rush through his body.

Surprisingly, you didn’t pull away; instead you squeezed his hand, pausing before letting it fall. “See you tomorrow.”

You stood and left the shop; Chan gripped the framed photo long after you’d disappeared from view.

…

The train came too soon.

The packed station made it difficult for Chan and Felix to push their way through. In the meantime, Chan had plenty to think about. To fret about. He played with the sleeves of his jacket. His head was spinning, and he stumbled over the feet of a few passersby.

“Chan?” Felix was watching, confusion arching his brows. “Are you alright?” 

Chan shook his head in response. “Come on, we need to hurry.”

It was ten minutes until the train left when, at last, Felix spotted you over the crowd. Chan hung back, a murky gray cloud of dread hanging over his head as Felix said his goodbyes, insisting you call him and visit. Your smile, for some reason, seemed sadder today- especially when it was directed at Chan. He took a deep breath while Felix waited a distance away, and approached you.

It only took your eyes finding his own for the lump to swell in his throat and his eyes to burn as he tried to figure out what to say. Gosh, it had never been this difficult to say farewell. 

“Chan-” You gently lifted Chan’s face with your left palm, making him face you. He saw you smile through the blurriness of sudden tears, biting his lip as he desperately tried to halt them. But all he could think about was how unfair this was, and how much he’d missed you. Because he always did, and it hurt more each time he said goodbye.

“Chan?”

“Hmm?” He managed, swallowing roughly. “Y/n?”

You hesitated for a moment, before taking his hand with your free one. “I’m sorry.” You whispered. “I am. I don’t know, I just… I mean, you’re just perfect…”

“Just not for you, huh?” Chan murmured, clutching your hand like a tight grip could prevent your inevitable departure. Like your grip on his heart could somehow keep you together.

This time you bowed your head, and Chan thought he saw a tiny splinter- a crack in your gaze- before you looked back at him again. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Why not?

He hugged you tightly, afraid of letting go. You had the sense to do so first.

No tearful goodbye; it never was that way with you. Just a forlorn smile and a wave of your hand through the window before you were gone.

But you would come back, Chan assured himself, because you always did. Like the cycle of the seasons, you would return to him soon enough.

But you didn’t this time. You didn’t come back.

Weeks dissolved into months, and months turned into a year. His hope slowly faded into worry and distress at your disappearance, and then a solemn acceptance. That goodbye had been your last; even more he knew it in his heart that you didn’t intend to return.

In hindsight, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it coming. And he blamed himself for it, despite Felix’s assurance that it wasn’t his fault. After all, if he hadn’t pressured you to stay, maybe you’d continue to come and go as you always had. It had been his careless advances that had chased you away, and he’d been foolish to wish for you to remain within arms reach. It would have hurt for you to never find content in staying with him- but he swore it hurt a thousand times more to think that he might never see you again.

He wondered, though, if he could have borne it. Seeing you for brief pockets of time, all while knowing you would leave him again eventually. He tried to imagine it; find a scenario where both of you could be happy and be together. But… how?

Maybe it was for the best, then. If he couldn’t make you happy, it was selfish for him to expect anything from you.

Still… he missed you.

God, he missed you.

It was over two years before he heard anything from you. A mutual friend, Jisung, had run into you in Orlando. The meetup had been quickly relayed to Chan, who jumped at any information of your well-being. And as it turned out, you were doing well. Free and tied down to nothing, you were doing what you loved- exploring the world, finding your next adventure in the great unknown.

And Chan knew that it was the right path for you- even if it hurt to admit. And even if it was hard to be happy for you when he couldn’t seem to let you go himself.

Because everywhere he went, he saw you. Saw what you were, and what you might have been. You lived in his head now that you weren’t here, and he wondered if you would always stay there as his biggest what if? Even more, he wondered if you ever thought about him too.

Chan thought of you for the umpteenth time that week as he stood in a heavy drizzle, an umbrella keeping his body dry as he waited for his bus. Evening was approaching quickly, the sky darkening at an alarming rate. Brightly coloured leaves were tossed in the wind, skittering over the wet pavement. Chan stood perfectly still, listening to the steady rhythm of the rain. Pitter patter. Pitter patter.

Eventually he let his umbrella fall back; his eyes turned to the sky before closing as the first droplets of rain fell onto his face. He inhaled deeply, the rich smell of the damp leaves making him smile- even if a little wistfully.

The rain felt a little colder this year, didn't it?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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[robo-milky]

What Could Have Been…

Art block struck but I wanted to be productive anyways, so I decided to revisit my very first concept of Cloche! I had some fun drawing this for myself, and it brought a lot of nostalgia to me. It was cool to try to translate old art into how I draw now, and comparing what changed.

[Notes]

- Honestly, I have NO idea what I was even going for with the fit- At the time the cat maid theme was integral to my persona but I also didn’t commit completely?? I still really like the short blazer but gosh the shorts and black leggings underneath- I think it’s a nice style but feels out of place as an altered school uniform. Gosh younger me was edgy (still am- but tbf, I’m sure at that time, I was focused on having fun since I was dipping my toes into TWST without having thoughts of commitment to the game or caring that much). The first thoughts I had in mind seeing this design again was like “ringleader? dominatrix? beast tamer?”. In a way, I still got some butler vibes from this. Could you tell I was fresh out of my JJBA era with this?

- “Silver Tongue” was meant to be this persona’s UM if she were an NRC student. You can bet it was OP 💀 From what I remember, if “Cloche” casts her UM and tells a lie, she’ll seamlessly be transported to an alternate universe where that lie comes true. She can continue to build up on her lies until they start to contradict, in that case, she’d be transported back to the original universe. This is why she keeps a notebook on her at all times, to keep track of each lie she tells.

- Since this was more of a persona, she definitely does not have the same personality the current Cloche does. I think I went for more of a manipulator route with this thing

- This was made before the cat maid curse idea, so she actually wears the cat ears and tail for funsies 💀 I thought it was a funny gag for people to think she’s a beastman until the headband slips off-

- Something off with the skin? No moles? That’s right! A certain area’s beauty standards were still ingrained heavily within me at the time 😔 Funnily enough, for Cloche, I did give her more features similar to me than this persona 💀 Seeing Cloche paler with a cooler skin undertone will always jump scare me in my old art.

- This design will always have a special place in my heart tbh, might actually revamp and reuse this— who knows

[andreawritesit]

The Red Storm - Part II

Fandom - One Piece

Pair - Shanks x Reader

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

“Dadan!” you shout while opening the worn-down door of her house. “I got the kids!” Ace snorts and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not a kid. These two are. I’m their older brother.” You roll your eyes as Sabo kicks Ace in the back. Luffy ignores them both, runs to you again, and tugs at your shirt. You look down at him and see drool pooling at his mouth. “Where’s the food? You said if we’ll come back with you, Dadan will give us food.” 

“Want food, do ya?” Dadan’s voice rings behind them. Sabo lets go of Ace’s hair at once and Ace puts Sabo’s hat back on his head. The two kids stand apart from each other and one can’t even tell that they were beating each other a moment ago. Luffy runs to Dadan and jumps onto her shoulder. “Oi Dadan! Where’s the food?” 

The older woman grits her teeth and it takes all her strength to not fling Luffy across the room. Instead, she slowly puts him back down and lets out a loud sigh. “Fine, you’ll get your damn food! Wash the floors first!” All three boys complain aloud but one look from the curly-haired woman shuts them up and they begin mopping the floor. “And you,” she points towards you, “go fetch some booze from Makino. We’re out.” You nod and head to the bar. Ever since Shanks had left, you had stopped going to the bar. That place held too many memories of you two together. Usually, you would straight up refuse to go there but today Dadan was in a very bad mood. It’s better to not rile her up any further. And so you walk down the painfully familiar roads and finally reach the bar. Makino is at her usual place, cleaning some glasses. There are very few people in the bar than used to be. You walk over to the counter where Makino greets you with a wide grin.

“Hey! I haven’t seen you in so long!” she exclaims as she walks over to give you a hug. You smile and hug her back, already feeling nostalgia hit you. Oh, how much fun you would have with her and the Red-Haired Pirates! 

Stupid Shanks! And his stupid crew!

“Makino, Dadan has asked for more booze. Do you have any for her?”

Makino put her hand under her chin and seemed to be in deep thought. “I don’t know actually. I think the new supply is arriving later. Will you wait till then?”

“I guess, I mean I don’t really have a choice. Dadan will kill me if I return without booze.”

“Good. Come have a seat. I’ll pour you something.” You nod and sit at your usual seat near the counter. Every now and then your eyes move to the adjacent seat, where he would be sitting with his arm around your waist, narrating his grand adventures. You close your eyes and try to get rid of those images but in vain. And so you resort to drinking the loneliness away.

Shanks enters the dimly lit bar, the familiar scent of alcohol and old wood greeting him, but it is soon overshadowed by the sight of you sitting at the counter, a glass of wine in your hand. The years have been kind to her, he thinks, as he makes his way over to where you are sitting, his heart pounding in his chest.

Before he can even say a word, you feel his presence behind you. I’m being stupid. He can’t be here, can he? Agonizingly slow, you turn around and gasp loudly, the wine glass in your hand falling on the table. His eyes meet yours and you feel your heart stop. Why is he here? How? 

You stand up from your chair and take a step towards him. None of you say anything. Shanks stands there, waiting to see your reaction before doing anything. You take another step toward him but you lose your balance and fall forwards. He leaps forward and catches you quickly. "Hi," he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your hands ache to just wrap themselves around him but the disbelief makes them dangle uselessly by your sides as he holds you up. “You look so… so-“

“Old!” comes a voice from behind him. Your head whips around to see Lucky Roux laughing his ass off with a lamb leg in his hand. “Damn girl! You look like you’re a single mother of three!” he adds as he takes another bite of the meat. Shanks lets out a sound something between a laugh and a sigh and sets you back on your feet. 

“And you look like you have drank the sea dry!” you retort back. “Did they kick you out of the Grand Line for causing drought?” He laughs again, clearly drunk, and Yasopp joins in this time. Shanks holds your wrist lightly and turns you to him. “Don’t pay him any mind. You look as beautiful as you were, if not more.” You smile at him and your eyes wander over his face, his handsome face you haven’t seen in years. Your hand automatically goes to his face and you run your fingers over his scars. “You’ve gotten more handsome if that’s even possible.” He smirks and runs his hand from your wrist to your shoulder. 

“Get a room!” Roux shouts and then chokes on the lamb. You laugh at him and Shanks lets go of your shoulder. 

Shanks takes your hand and leads you to your usual seats. The two of you sit down at the bar, talking and laughing as if no time has passed at all. After a lot of alcohol and catching up, you’re both sitting in silence, enjoying each other’s company.

"I've missed you," he says all of a sudden, his voice husky with emotion. You reach out and touch his face, tracing the lines and contours that you know so well. “I’ve missed you too, you dumbass,” you reply, running your thumb over his cheek. 

“Why did you come back, Shanks?”

“I had to. We had left something valuable here. We couldn’t possibly go further without it.”

You raise your eyebrow at his response. “What exactly did you leave here?”

“You. I came back to take you with me.” You let out a gasp and shook your head.

“Don’t joke with me!” He intertwines his fingers with yours. “I’m not. I want you to go with us.”

“But…But you said that it’s not safe for me…”

“I know. And it isn’t. But I cannot function properly without you. I have grown so fond of your presence that I couldn’t even look after my crew properly. A feeling of emptiness kept nagging me. It took a lot of alcohol and a dozen scoldings from Benn for me to realize that I needed you with me. Even if it’s dangerous, I’ll protect you with my life. Just come with me, please.” His voice breaks at the end and you have to stop yourself from saying yes immediately.

“But Shanks, what about Luffy? He needs me, no?”

He nods and rests his head on your shoulder. “I heard his grandfather is looking after him. He’ll be safe with him.”

“I guess so but..”

“Do you want to come with me?”

“Well yes but how will I tell that to Luffy? Oh yes, you can come with me! He’ll be so happy to see you and he’ll understand you better!”

Shanks lifts his head and shakes his side to side. “I can’t see him. Not yet. We promised to only meet again when he has become a pirate captain. You’ll have to go say goodbye alone.”

“Meanie…” you mumble under your breath. He laughs and pulls you into his arms. “Sorry, it is what it is.” You huff at his reply and stand up to leave. “Fine you asshole. I’ll go say goodbye. I’ll meet you here tomorrow morning then, alright?” He stands up as well and nods. “Alright, love.”

And then, without another word, Shanks reaches out and gently cups your face in his hands, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes search yours, seeking permission and reassurance. Finding nothing but love and longing reflected back at him, he leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you want to. But you don't. As his lips met yours, it’s like a floodgate is opened. Years of pent-up longing and desire surge through you, and you respond eagerly, your hands finding their way around his neck, pulling him closer. His kiss is soft yet filled with passion, a gentle exploration that speaks volumes about the depth of his feelings. You could taste the sweetness of his lips, and feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. Every touch, every caress is like a promise of all the things that could be, all the moments you have missed out on. When you finally break apart, you are both breathless, your hearts pounding in sync. You look into his eyes, and in that moment, you know that this is where you belong, in his arms, forever.

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

I might have to write another part. Yikes

Part III - here

[tenyearsoftrash]

Ten Years of HTP: A Celebration

Hi all, I (@eatingcroutons) set up this blog with all sorts of intentions about preparation and promotion and then Life Things Happened, but I'm still hoping to go forward with the idea of encouraging some nostalgia and memory-sharing about the last ten years of the HYDRA Trash Party.

The aim here is to be more of a celebration of community rather than your typical prompt fest - if you're looking for prompts for fanworks you might want to check out the @catws-anniversary that has just kicked off and will run until the 4th of April, or of course refer back to the Trash Meme itself!

So for this blog's purposes, feel free to post informal thoughts and musings and ramblings, and to comment on each other's memories - this is all about our shared history and nostalgia, and the idea is for it to be an open dialogue and celebration of community. A few points on logistics:

Anonymous asks and submission are open on this blog if you'd prefer not to participate under a named account. We all know how hostile certain corners of fandom have become to darkfic and adjacent content.

For all the themes below self-recs are also very welcome, if you want a chance to show off something you made years ago that hasn't gotten much attention in a while!

Go ahead and tag this blog at @tenyearsoftrash for a reblog of anything you post about the below themes!

All that said, here are some suggested themes and ideas to get you thinking and reminiscing:

April 4: Rewatch CA:TWS!

Take yourself right back to where it all began! With too many people across too many timezones we're not going to even try to organise a massive synchronised groupwatch, but maybe you could get a few of your old-school HTP buddies together to do a smaller one? In any case: fire up the movie, relive all the feels, and share any HTP-related thoughts that come (back) to mind after all these years!

April 5: Fanwork Recs

Go back and dig up some links to your favourite HTP fanworks - whether big or small, well-known or niche, what are the works that have really rewritten your brain chemistry, and stuck with you all this time? What was it about them that hit just the right spot? Feel free to share your thoughts on Tumblr - and to go back and drop a nostalgic comment on anything on AO3 😉

April 7: Meta Recs

Over the years there's been a lot of meta associated with HTP, from discussions of what CA:TWS and HYDRA represent in a broader social context, to endless back-and-forth about darkfic's place in fandom. Are there any posts that really made you think, or that remain relevant even now? Is there anything that came out of those meta discussions that has turned out to be particularly prescient, in hindsight?

April 8: HTP Fanon

What are your favourite bits of shared or personal fanon around HTP and its related concepts? Are there any Original Characters you're particularly fond of? Any particular tropes regarding characters or events that you will never get tired or bored of? Any ideas that might seem cracky on the surface but which you are totally into regardless?

April 8: Other Media/Fandoms

We've all had those moments where we've come across something in a new canon and immediately been like, "Oh, this is delicious trash bait," right? What other media has had a "Bucky Barnes Obediently Accepts The Bite Block" moment for you? What other characters might your fellow HTP friends enjoy as interesting targets for Trash Party Shenanigans? In what fandoms have you found yourself running into an awful lot of familiar HTP faces?

April 9: WIP Amnesty

Do you have any HTP fanworks that you never finished, or never got around to starting, for whatever reason? Now's your excuse to talk about them! Feel free to ramble about what your plans would have been, lament why they're never going to happen, or share some of those great ideas you never quite had time to plot out. Or, if you're feeling particularly inspired, go back and actually finish something off!

April 10: HTP Community Memories

To finish off the week let's talk about the community itself! What have been the good times, the interesting times, any times that have been personally significant to you, for any reason? What things have you experienced or shared or understood with or through or because of the HTP community? What new friends have you made over the years, and what old friends do you miss?

---

Apologies again for taking some time to getting around to making this post, but hopefully people will still be interested in doing some reminiscing!

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

You're waiting for a train...(13)

Lies Are Weak Foundations

description - In the hunt to retrieve Robert, y/n will be shown much more truth than she ever could have expected.

word count - 2.9k

warnings - incepting an idea against someones will, suicide, allusions to child abuse

a/n - fun fact, in the original plan for the story it ended on 13 chapters so I added one extra because I believe in the unluckiness of that number. Butttt then the chapters became too long so I was breaking them up anyways so the story would have actually never been 13 chapters.

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If you want to be added to the taglist - here

“Do you trust me?”

“Forever.”

“Forever.”

Dark.

LAYER FOUR: LIMBO

A crushing wave layers over my throat and the chill seeps down over every inch of my skin. I gasped in search of breath, feeling my position was not helping my desire to not drown. The sun bled my eyes but I could not direct myself out until a pair of arms wrapped around me. They dragged me up and out as I spluttered everywhere. Dad collapsed onto the beach still holding me close to him. I pressed up and took in the world around me. Skyscrapers crumbing down to be forgotten. The majesty around screamed of futility. But their memories thrummed in the air. I curled my fingers through the damp sand in search of a foundation to stand up on. Tiredness gave way and the sand was not a strong enough footing. I fell down once more. Dad stretched out his hand to me. With slight hesitation, I grasped it and we used the others weight to pull ourselves up.

“You all right?” a nod was all I could offer.

“This is your world?” my words whispered out the unspoken agreement.

“It was.” His firm tone matched his serious face. I tried to show no fear but he was still my father. “This is where she’ll be.” Another wave crashed over, stinging my ankles, and I could only hope my shiver was from that. “Come on.” He gestured for me to follow him.

We began to walk and passed over to the expanse of industry. It looked uncommon from the beach we had been on moments ago. And the distinctness was felt by the clench in my chest. Where I once felt free now controlled me. The chains I felt inside me could be traced to my mother’s hands.

“You built all of this?” I asked my father who walked through with predetermined confidence whereas I dragged behind stunned into carelessness. It seems the further we walked the stronger the structures stood. Their thoughts were concrete and had not succumbed to time…yet. “This is incredible.” I breathed out through a laugh of disbelief.

“We built for years. Then we started in on the memories.” Dad responded.

My skin bristled and a thousand eyes were trained on our very movements.

Dad stopped.

I stopped.

James and Philippa played in the streets, supplanted into this created memory.

Tears burned at my lids and I wanted nothing more than to run over and clasp them in my arms. But my feet stood stock. They were not real. They were not real. They’re at home. We can go home.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

“This was—”

“Our neighbourhood.” I finished his thought when the familiar image struck my heart.

“Places from our past.” He continued. He stopped me with a hand on my shoulder and drew my attention to a building to the left of us. The house looked out of place and it’s nostalgia did not match the ingenuity around us.

“Recognise?” He teased and squeezed my shoulder in comfort.

“The apartment.” I smiled through my words. I could feel every muscle relax and suddenly I was free of the links that had bound me for years. Behind the linen curtains, shadows danced around a thought. I was transported back and could feel the shadow of myself return and with it the innocence I had failed to keep.

“You reconstructed this all from memory?” I slurred out over the lump in my throat.

“We had lots of time.” His whisper was enough prompting I needed.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

We entered a sleek apartment complex. The cleanliness seeped off it like a fume.

“We’d always wanted to live in a house but there was something about buildings like this.” I audibly agreed. “In the real world, we’d have to choose.”

We entered the elevator and Cobb’s hand pushed out for the right number. The doors slammed in front.

“How are we gonna get Robe—Fischer back?” I asked whilst fidgeting with my jacket sleeves.

“We’re gonna have to come up with some kind of kick.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna improvise.” He readied his gun in his hand and I assessed his moves with fear. “listen, honey, there’s something you need to know about me.” I met his statement with confusion. I looked on to my father and struggled to think what he could have possibly kept from me when we had been each other’s all for the past years. And what was so horrifying that I didn’t know. “About inception.”

The doors opened and the warm light of our house bled into the steel of the elevator. Dad raised his gun to stalk forward, primed.

“An idea is like a virus. Resilient. Highly contagious.” We walked further into the hallway, with each step feeling like two, and the walk back even longer. “And the smallest seed of an idea can grow. It can grow to define…” Dad raised his gun as we finally made it to the largest room. “Or destroy you.”

The head of the table was occupied and the limited view did not stop me recognising my own mother. The closer I came to her, the less assured I became.

“The smallest idea such as ‘Your world is not real’.” Her voice sung the air and its tones were all too familiar to my ears. If my father hadn’t blocked me I could have crumbled right into her arms. “Simple little thought that changes everything.” She turned to face us and a smile tugged at my lips when I could see her beauty once again. “So certain of your world, of what’s real. Do you think he is?” she jutted her chin to my father but directed her question to me. “Or do you think he’s as lost as I was?” My eyes bore over his frame and my face fell at the question I had already asked.

“I know what’s real, Mal.” My dad spoke as if approaching a skittish horse. He pulled out the chair waiting for him and sat down so their eyes could meet.

“No creeping doubts? Not feeling persecuted, Dom?” She perched on her arms to lean towards him. “Chased around the globe, by anonymous corporations and police forces?” She then turned her eyes towards mine. “The way projections persecute the dreamers.” When our eyes met, they were filled with sympathy and I felt that this Mal had somehow seen my whole life. Through the eyes of my own father.

She grasped his head in her hands. “Admit it.” She persisted. “You don’t believe in one reality anymore. So choose. Choose to be here. Choose me.” Her words pierced me as believing in one reality meant forgetting another and her words of disbelief to my very existence were too near in my mind. And I flinched at every word in attack.

“You know what I have to do. I have to get back to the children. I have to take Y/n home.” Dad soothed Mal’s passionate heart. “Because you left us.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m not wrong.”

“You’re confused, our children are here.” Her eyes pierced the side of my head. “Our real children.” From behind I heard the giggles of the projections of James and Philippa. “You would like to see their faces again, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. But I’m gonna see them up above, Mal.”

“Up above?” She laughed out at the apparent foolishness of the term. “Listen to yourself. These are your children. Watch.” She leaned back and announced to the room. “James! Philippa!”

Their faces twitched and both my father and I flinched away and hid our eyes, fearing that our truths could be confused.

“Mal, please don’t do this.” My father pleaded, knowing her game. “Those aren’t my children.”

“You keep telling yourself that. But you don’t believe it.”

“No, I know it!”

“And what if you’re wrong, and I’m what’s real.” Her desperation seeped through her words. “You keep telling yourself what you know.” She mocked his stubbornness. “But what do you believe?” She whispered out. “What do you feel?”

“Guilt.”

I snapped my gaze to my father. His word choice confusing me.

“I feel guilt, Mal. And no matter what I do. No matter how hopeless I am, no matter how confused, that guilt is always there, reminding me of the truth.”

Mal’s face stoned. “What truth?”

My breath stuck as I waited for either one to admit what hung in the air unsaid.

“That the idea that caused you to question your reality…came from me.”

I gasped. Blood froze in my veins. My bones seemed to melt.

“You planted the idea in my mind?” Mother questioned, her tone more hushed than when she had certainty.

“What is she talking about?” I spluttered out still holding out on the idea of another explanation.

I could not force my father to meet my gaze.

“The reason I knew inception was possible was because…I did it to her first. I did it to my own wife.”

I choked on my own sob which fought to break through.

“Why?” I gasped out.

“We were lost in here. I knew we needed to escape, but she wouldn’t accept it. She had locked something away, something deep inside. A truth that she had once known, but chose to forget. And she couldn’t break free. So I decided to search for it. I went deep into the recess of her mind and found that secret place. And I broke in… and I planted an idea. A simple little idea that would change everything. That her world wasn’t real.”

“That death was the only escape.” Mal finished, her eyes still downcast.

“You’re waiting for a train.” I began reciting what I had heard all of my life. “A train that’ll take you far away. You know where you hope this train will take you… but you can’t know for sure. Yet it doesn’t matter.”

“Because you’ll be together.” My father continued.

“And then you woke up.” I remembered watching over their lithe bodies resume life. I struggled to realise all that had proceeded. And all that would come to follow.

“But I never knew that that idea would grow in her mind like a cancer…that even after she woke…That even after you came back to reality… that you’d continue to believe your world wasn’t real. That death was the only escape.” I shuddered upon the memory and tried to scrub out the image of her lifeless frame on the table.

I couldn’t help but sigh in almost relief. The feeling felt wrong but I couldn’t help at relish at the answers for actions and words that had troubled me for years.

She broke into tears.

“You infected my mind.” She sobbed out.

“Mal, I was trying to save you.”

“You betrayed me.” She cried out. “But you can make amends. You can still keep your promise. We can still be together, right here, in the world we built together.”

The world rumbled in a mimic explosion but no flames could be seen. I jumped in realisation at Eames’ attempt to revive Robert. The lightning confirmed my fear.

“Dad, we need to get Robert.”

Mal whipped around to me and practically spat. “You can’t have him.”

“If I stay here, will you let him go?” Dad was still held in thought.

“DAD, NO!” I cried out at the thought of losing him too. “You can’t do that to me. Not me. Not again. I can’t do it again!”

“But you’d have Fischer.” He sincerely answered. I became confused through my screams. One look between us confirmed it. He’d seen it all. But he wasn’t mad, he seemed genuine.

“Fischer is on the porch.” Mal announced unable to hide the smile at her win.

“Go check he’s alive, Y/n.”

“No, Dad you can’t do this. Not for me.”

“Go check he’s alive. Do it.”

I hurtled outside, gun at the ready. The newly acquired wind whipped my body around and I struggled to stay straight in the face of the storm. I saw the barely conscious body of Robert. He was tied up and his mouth was gagged. I hurled his body up to lean against the balcony. I checked his body over for injuries and found nothing too concerning. His eyes met my own and the familiarity seemed to unleash his tears. I tried to soothe him but I felt ill-equipped in my own situation.

“He’s here and it’s time but you have to come now!” I shouted back.

“Take Fischer with you, all right.”

“You can’t stay here to be with her!” I screamed to permeate his stubbornness. Every part of my body was desperate to drag him back home with me and destroy whatever poison she had him under. “That’s not mum!”

“I’m not.” He stated. “Saito’s dead by now. That means he’s down here somewhere. That means I have to find him.” My heart loosened and I broke a smile. The thunder rumbled around us. “I can’t stay with her anymore because she doesn’t exist.”

“I’m the only thing you do believe in anymore.” She shot back.

“I wish.” He deeply exhaled in desperation to return to the time before. “I wish more than anything but I can’t imagine you with all your complexity, all your perfection, all your imperfection.”

I ripped down the gag from Robert.

“You all right?”

“Yeah.” We both had to shout to be heard over the thunder.

“Look at you.” My dad continued. “You’re just a shade. You’re just a shade of my real wife.”

I caught Mal’s thumb stroke over a knife I had seen before. My arm pained once I saw the offending weapon.

“And you were the best I could do?” Dad continued to push. “I’m sorry, you’re just not good enough.”

“DOES THIS FEEL REAL?” She jumped up and slammed the knife down into Cobb’s thigh with murderous passion. But before she could raise it again, I grasped my gun and shot her. One bullet.

My body froze, gun still cocked. I couldn’t move from the position I’d found myself in. Thoughts ran around and infected each part of my body. Spiralling down I struggled to pull myself back up until a gentle tap hit the back of my thigh. And I turned around to find Robert manoeuvring himself into an uncomfortable position to merely comfort me in whichever way he could. My resolve crumbled when our eyes met, and I dropped the gun and launched forward to embrace him. To feel him close, if not for anything else.

Dad reached over to cradle Mal in his arms as she died. He gratefully acknowledged the gun in my hand and I smiled in agreement. It had to be me.

“Y/n I need to know if you can ever forgive me.” He choked out. “For this and for everything else. This life should have never been yours.”

“It was my choice.”

“I shouldn’t have let you.”

“You think you could have stopped me?” I teased. “Don’t forget who I learned it from.” We both forced out a laugh.

“You know I think I finally understand you.” I announced, my voice rising over the thunder.

“The greatest mistake I ever made was letting you come with me that day.” My face fell. “And all the pain and suffering it has caused you.” I nodded in the most thanks or forgiveness I could force out.

“I would have done it again in a heartbeat.” I shouted. Dad looked up at me through his tears. I smiled through my next words. “Because I got to be with my dad, and that’s all that matters to me.” I searched to meet his eyes which had fallen once again so he felt my full meaning. “That we weren’t alone.”

I rose to stand and walked to stand on the precipice of the balcony.

“Mum couldn’t have been helped.” I stated. “But you came back to me.”

“I will always come back for you, darling.”

“But I won’t let you lose yourself, like mum did.” I pleaded with him through gritted teeth which held back my tears. At the next crack of lightning, I hurriedly lifted Robert up and braced him to be flung off the building, simulating a kick. But I stopped and turned back to the image of my father over my dying mother.

“I’m gonna stay.” I announce. “You need help to get Saito back.” He understood my fears and the possibility that he won’t come back but he merely smiled at my concern.

“No. I’ll be fine. You go with Robert. You need to be with him.” He lowered his voice and the sincerity in his words electrified the air between us. I softly smiled to match his own. Grasped Robert’s body in my arms. I leaned back and let gravity consume us.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

A gasp awoke us both and the crack of the defibrillator drew my attention to Robert. I scrambled up and crawled over to his body. He jumped to life and his eyes shot open. They softened once they met my own and I could barely wait to embrace him again. Once we met in a hug, he weakly reciprocated and placed a soft kiss on my hairline. I leaned back and cupped his face, stroking his soft skin to commit it to memory.

“You need to go now. You need to see what’s in that vault.” My eyes flitted up towards the door and he stretched back to follow my gaze.

He clambered up and faced the door. His footsteps forward stalled. He turned back and faced where I merely watched.

“Will you come too?” He stuttered out as if afraid for my answer.

“Of course.” I confidently spoke despite my beating heart. I ran up to him and clasped his hand in my own. We looked at each other in newfound comfortability. We needn’t speak as we both knew that whatever was to come, neither one of us were facing it alone.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

ahhhh we're getting so close to the end!!

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @neotanpopper @deliriouslybi @folklorde24 @thefandomdiaries07 @viarosemcmissile @noirrose21-blog @thepoeticfirefly @xoxo-gothic-girl @skeletonwrite @jellyzelek @kaylamarie306-blog @bloodcanbehot @lazybot @raineeace @thearieunhinged @multifans-things @queenofterrasen418 @bey0ndne0 @justanotherkpopstanlol @iamliterallyspidergwen @frozenhuntress67

[sinisxtea]

MOOT TAG: What genre of music does your moots remind you of ?

im honestly not a very big genre specific person, i listen to whatever slaps so i don't usually choose music based on genre lol... but these are just my thoughts!

psychedelic pop/acid pop - @ldh0000

everytime we talk i lowkey feel like we're both high as fuck and honestly psychedelic pop really fits ur vibe idk... haunting hippy??? love u, let's not get a divorce

kr&b - @aquaphoenixz

if the walk album is anything to prove lol… you definitely have a thing for r&b. (ahem seori ahem cough cough seori) but valid… i love r&b as well <33

hyperpop - @syatchy

this isn’t even a discussion lol. love u 🫶🫶

disco - @lyvhie

girl you give off such 70s vibes but with a modern edge kinda? like the whole, “stop thinking, let’s dance!” thing that bruno mars, dua lipa, lady gaga (kinda) have got going on!

indie pop - @polarisjisung

or the genre i like to call mental illness /j (for legal reasons that's a joke don't come after me) no bc you embody this feeling of nostalgia? that's kind of like peaceful and calming, but also can definitely turn up the volume if needed? i'm thinking lana del rey, mitski, tv girl, maybe some 21p in there too.

afrobeats/amapiano - @riri4andy

although the genre has recently blown up, you have to really feel the vibes in order to like this genre of music, from what i've noticed it's usually a hit or miss if someone likes this style, but the vibes i get from you really embody the soulfulness of the genre.

y2k pop - @chenlesfavorite

you might not listen to a lot of y2k pop, but the y2k vibes are really coming from you! you seem so stylish, classy and fashionable! your creative endeavors are all over the place! it very much reminds me of that period in between the 90s and the 00s, although some modern songs have that vibe (stream midas touch by kiof 🙏)

house music - @galacticnct

when i thought of music genres for u the first thing that came into my mind was "gay people getting it down in the club" which i was then like. idk what genre that is, but i think i've managed to just place it upon house music. think bibora...

alt r&b / indie rock - @spiderm444rk

honestly i couldn't decide between the two lol. i feel like you fit the alt r&b aesthetic more than the indie rock vibe, but i'm only keeping indie rock on here bc of... mark lee!

synth-pop - @yeonzzens

tbh i know we have similar music taste, so i was thinking of how i could categorize it as? synth-pop is quite broad actually, and there a lot of different sub genres under it, but i feel like it really embodies the type of music that you like.

city-pop - @lotties-readings

city-pop but purely for the vibes. <33 it's so cozy and comforting, but also feels like a blend of the past and present. both seem so nice and peaceful, that it's almost like you're perfectly content with where you are right now. (did not mean for that to get poetic um i just yapped)

kpop - @nanaxwi

SDJSKDJKS I GAVE UP i tried. i wanted to pick a unique category but honestly i can't get a vibe for what type of music you listen to. kpop is broad and embodies many different genres and music techniques and it's very experimental and open to new things, which embodies you as well!!!!

[seleneprince]

Hear me out

With the growing popularity of transmigration webtoons, I assume we've all read those ones about a random girl or fan reincarnating in the villainess' body and changing the original plot completely, and often finding out the villainess wasn't so bad and the MC was the real enemy all along.

I'm obsessed with that trope and I don't care how repetitive or predictable it gets sometimes, it fuels me. It gives me life. And since I recently started to re-read The Remarried Empress on webtoon (i'm following I Abdicate my Title as Empress now and the nostalgia hit me), I had an idea I can't stop thinking about. Well, two ideas:

A fierce fan of The Remarried Empress dying in an accident or falling into a coma, I don't care, and reincarnating in Rasha's body, right when's she found by Emperor Sovieshu on the trap. She's a BIG supporter of Navier and hates Sovieshu with passion, blaming him for everything. Her opinion on Rasha is the same as the average fans...until she experiences the girl's trauma and hardships herself, and realizes that there's more depth in the unfamous webtoon villainess than she thought. Despite her new identity and knowing most of the plot, she cannot bring herself to stay away from Navier and show her adoration for the Empress, acting like a fangirl whenever she sees her or hears about her. She helps push all the strings to guarantee Navier and Heinrey's love story to shail, because even though she wants her close, she wants Navier to have the happy life she deserves.

Or the original Rashta going back to the past after her death and, feeling terrible for what she did, vows to not commit the same mistakes again and decides to do her best to help Navier from the distance whenever the Emperor fucks up. She doesn't want to be empress, just have a cozy and secure life away from slavery, so she's resolved to make Navier stay and if she has to act as a marital therapist for them so be it. She knows her position is secured with her baby, so it's not like she needs the Emperor's affection on her, just his promise to look after her (plus she resents him a lot now, so the less she interacts with him, the better).

These ideas were born out of my new found realization that Rashta, while she works amazing as a pitiful villain, her character was deeply misunderstood and forever condemned to be mocked and attacked by everyone, both in the story and the fandom. She wasn't a saint, sure. She did bad things out of selfishness and purposedly went against Navier to steal her place, and I was satisfied with the ending she got. But most of the flaws that made her so annoying for the fans are actually reasonable within her character's past. Rashta was sold as a slave by her own father when she was a child, placed in a house with masters that abused her and treated her like trash simply for existing (Lotteshu even gave her a dead baby to let her believe it was the one she lost, how the fuck no one talks more about it?). Then, she escapes and the Emperor saves her, showering her in affection and riches and promising her a fairytale love story. She think she's safe, that she can finally be happy, but Lotteshu re appears and begins to blackmail her, and then turns out the Emperor doesn't love her but wants to the heir she can give him. Ergi is her only friend in court apparently, but he's manipulating her from the beginning and eventually betrays her. And Rashta wasn't purposedly rude to Navier at first, the girl was illiterate and knew nothing about etiquette, but she admired Navier and wanted to be close to her, but Navier assumed she was mocking her instead. And Sovieshy obviously never helped this situation.

I want to see a story where Rashta's traumatic past is properly explored instead of showing it as side information, and she gets the development she should have had. And what better way than with a reincarnation story? At least in my opinion

Anyway, thanks for coming to my ted talk lmao

[petrichor-idyllic]

Hi! Maybe a Minho x reader where the reader is already in the safe haven, and is doing some gardening while singing or dancing and minding her business and Minho sees her and recognizes her from before the maze trials but not entirely, and he feels attracted to her and tries very hard to get her attention and it's all flirty but also funny and a little embarrassing. Like an aftermath and it's all fluffy and cute and maybe a little spicy in the end:D

Man, your ideas are always so good. I absolutely love writing your requests omg.

MIRAGE OF THE PAST

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Fem!Group B!Ex-Runner!Reader x Minho. Kinda movie based fic.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, some suggestive themes, spice at the end, reference to Newt's death (sorry), group B slang from the wiki page but they might be fanmade but I'm going with it.

"Come on, Minho," Frypan groans as the remaining Gladers sit around the burning bonfire, "there's gotta be at least one girl here that you want."

This conversation had been going on for the past few weeks. Once the initial shock of surviving and escaping to the Safe Haven passed, the other boys (apart from Thomas) immediately started scoping out the women. Watching Gally and Frypan attempt to flirt with anything with tits is admittedly quite funny.

But Minho's not interested. Not only does he have to deal with the trauma of being tortured for half a year, but also the death of his best friend.

Romance had never been something he particularly took interest in, even if a girl would have come up in the Glade, or when girls started joining the group.

Sure, it's not like he doesn't have any frustrations or urges. He didn't really have much of an outlet for that kind of thing during his pubescent teenage years- and he figured years of pent-up sexual energy would've started to actually affect him by now. Especially with no Maze or WCKD to distract him.

But not really. Not at the moment.

"Dude," he grumbles, swirling the contents of his glass, "I'm telling you; I do not care."

"There's something shuckin' wrong with you, man," Gally scoffs, entertained more than anything as he drops his head. "There are girls eyeing you up left, right and centre- and you're telling me you don't care?"

Minho had obviously noticed the attention on him, but he'd always known he was good-looking. Even back in the Glade. The attention is, admittedly, an ego boost. And he enjoys watching his friends grumble and complain when some anxious girl approaches them, only for her to want Minho and leave with her tail between her legs.

"Nope- there's no one here I want, okay? Leave it."

Well, Minho was wrong.

The next day, he'd got roped into helping Thomas and Gally move bags of produce and seeds. Vince was too busy running the place, as per usual, so his normal daily tasks got thrown onto Thomas- something that he welcomed with open arms.

And that's when Minho saw you.

You spend a lot of time in the gardens- it's probably your favourite place in the Safe Haven. Similar to Minho, you ran the Maze in Group B, but you'd always had an affinity for plants and used to use the Gardens to calm down after a hard day. Now, it's more like using the plant life to relax after a hard life.

You prune away at the plants as you hum to yourself, dancing around and replaying the drums in your head from the previous night.

Thomas notices Minho's hesitation as he slows down, watching you from a distance. Gally is quick to also slow when he realises both of his colleagues have stopped moving.

Minho pays no mind to them. He's hit with a weird wave of nostalgia as he watches on, unconsciously admiring you. You're gorgeous; wearing the same casual clothes as everyone else, a jacket tied around your hips and your hair in a style he's already decided is his favourite.

What makes Minho's heart jump is when you flip the knife you're holding, tossing it into the air and catching the blade before throwing it. You're still dancing around and bobbing your head as the knife sinks into one of the wooden supports for a weak plant. It hits with a thud, easily holding in place and staying there as you crouch down to pick a tomato, mindlessly tossing it into a nearby basket.

Minho blinks. Processing what the hell just happened inside of him. The way you acted and how casually you just did that left some kind of impact on him.

Was that... hot?

Is that what the other boys call attractive?

Whatever. He can get over that. What he can't get over, however, is the strange feelings of familiarity he's experiencing. He knows you.

Somehow, he knows you.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" You perk your head up, looking in the direction of Sonya's voice as you stand up. She struggles through the shrubbery as you chuckle, slipping your hands into your pockets.

"Hey, Sonya. You good?"

"Yeah, Harriet, Aris and I are gonna grab a drink later, if you wanna join?"

"Uh, I don't know, man- maybe another time."

She groans as you turn back to your plants, dramatically flopping over you and throwing her arms around your shoulders. "C'mon," she drags out the word, "we never see you, anymore."

"That's not true," you gently and playfully shrug her off. It's kind of true.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't become kind of elusive since you'd come here. You'd decided to enjoy your peace, and you were never a people person. But here, you don't have to protect everyone and stress about getting out of a deadly Maze. So, now you keep to yourself. You don't tend to join in on the late night drinking or partying. You've become a teenage Grandma.

"Dude," she crosses her arms, face suddenly serious, "one night. Hang out with us. Please."

"I'll think about it." You scratch the back of your neck, throwing your head back and stretching. You pull it back up, catching someone staring at you from across the sand.

Minho instantly tenses the second you make eye contact. Red starts to dust his cheeks as he pulls his gaze away.

Shit.

Gally barks a laugh. "Wow, Minho," he snorts, and even Thomas laughs along. "Thought you weren't interested in anyone?"

"Slim it, shuck-face," Minho grumbles as he walks past, his head dipped low as he tries to avoid your attention.

What is happening to him?

"Is it just me, or was Minho totally just staring at you?" Sonya asks, even though you shrug it off, returning to your work.

"Who?" You practically hear Sonya's neck snap with the speed she looks at you.

"Who? Did you seriously just ask me who? Uh, Minho? The hot Asian dude that was just completely gawking at you?"

"Never heard of him."

"Are you kidding me? He's the guy that everyone spent months tryna save from WCKD."

"We spent months tryna save all of you from WCKD."

"Yeah- but Thomas and Newt broke into WCKD Headquarters for him. He's kinda a big deal, dude- and half the girls here have a thing for him."

"Sounds like quite the catch," your tone is dull and results in Sonya rolling her eyes.

"Just... just come hang out with us later? We miss talking to you."

"Alright, finch-face," you huff, "I'll have a couple drinks later if it gets you off my dick."

Sonya seems satisfied with this, leaving you to it. To your own surprise, your mind wanders to the boy. You'd never been one for attention, and you'd not really had any advances here. So, why do you feel flustered at this random dude staring at you?

You, in fact, do not meet them later for drinks. But you do promise another time.

Minho, on the other hand, spends the next week watching you every chance he gets. Thomas and Gally silently agree to keep it between themselves, but it's kind of hard.

He feels creepy and stalkerish. But he can't help it- you're just so perfect and he's never been this anxious to talk to someone ever. He wants to talk to you, but he just can't bring himself to.

After much consideration, you decide to actually join your friends for one night.

The girls are very happy to see you and you offer a friendly hug to Aris, joining them and Brenda around the campfire.

Minho takes note of this, watching you laugh and chatter, the flames dancing off of your skin and the drink swirling around the glass in your hand.

Gally nudges his friend, caving in and having to gossip with someone else. "Fry, have you heard?"

"Hm?"

"Minho, here, is in love." Thomas snorts into his drink, having to put it down so he doesn't choke.

"Shut up, Gally- I am not." Minho kicks him.

"What? Have I missed something? With who?" Frypan, not very subtly, tries to get a glimpse of you.

"Shuck's sake," Minho grasps at his friend, forcing him to sit down, "Fry! Stop!"

"What? What? Is she hot?"

"Yeah, she's hot," Gally scoffs, earning a glare from Minho. "Think she's called (Y/N), or some klunk."

Frypan's face contorts into a grin. "Ha, (Y/N)? No way."

"What? You know her?" Minho blinks at his friend, shocked because no one else seems to know who you are.

"I mean, Brenda knows her-" he leans further forward in his seat "- she's from Group B, used to be a Runner for them. Don't really know much, but they all make her sound like the best of the best. Sonya and Harriet think the world of her."

"Wait," Thomas interjects, "if she's so close with them, how come we don't know who she is?"

"She's not much of a people person," Frypan shrugs, "prefers to be on her own- does her own thing kinda deal. That's what it sounds like at least."

"Great, that means you don't have any competition, Minho," Thomas grins at his friend. "Why don't you just go talk to her?"

"No."

"Why not?" Thomas' smile immediately vanishes. He knows Minho better than most people here. He thinks getting to know someone new could do him some real good.

Minho falls into silence. What reason does he have to not talk to you? Is he just scared? The man has risked his life literally every day for as long as he can remember but he's scared to talk to a girl?

Sounds about right.

"Well," Gally slaps his legs as he stands up, "if you won't talk to her, guess I will."

You could hear the cogs turning in Minho's head as Gally starts to walk towards you. There's no way he's about to watch Gally take the only girl he's literally ever taken any interest in.

The chair moves back as Minho stands up.

Gally gets to your group, opening his mouth but no words come out as Minho is quick to reach him.

"Hey," Minho has absolutely no idea where he's going with this, awkwardly standing with his hands in his pockets as he hovers over the group. Sonya looks at you, repressing a smirk at Minho's slightly shifty stance.

"Hey, Minho," Brenda smiles at her friend, oblivious to what's going on. "You okay?" Gally smirks, making eye contact with Sonya, raising his eyebrows slightly before walking away and returning to the other boys.

"Uh, yeah, just uh, thought I'd come say hi," Minho flinches at his own words, visibly cringing as his confidence dwindles.

"Well, uh, hi?" Brenda is visibly lost whilst Harriet is quick to catch on, also being told by Sonya what happened prior.

"Minho," Harriet, the boldest of the group, decides to move this forward, "have you met (Y/N)?"

Oh no.

"Uh, I don't- no, we haven't met." Minho is having some kind of internal panic attack. The poor boy is going to pass out any second.

"Well, (Y/N) here was our best- she basically ran the joint when I was busy."

"That's not true," you look at him, immediately shutting down Harriet's bragging. He feels very small under your gaze.

"Nah, it is- stop being so humble."

"So, you were a Runner?" You blink at this question.

"I... I never told you that?" Minho freezes. Ah, yes, me and my friends weren't just talking about you or anything. Totally.

"Uh, yeah, I'm just assuming, yanno?"

You shuffle forward, trying to hide the smirk threatening to cross your lips. "Yeah, I was a uh, what did you call it? Runner?"

"Yeah, were you a Keeper?" You blink at him, not understanding the slang that differentiates between the Glade and the Glen.

"What's a Keeper?"

"Oh, it's, like, the person that's incharge of the section."

"Oh, like a Jailer?"

"A Jailer?"

"Yeah- I guess what you called Keepers we called Jailers. But, no, I wasn't a... Keeper. Just did my job, stick."

"You shoulda been a Jailer, finch-face," Harriet complains, adding to an argument that you'd been having for a while.

"I didn't want to be a finching Jailer, Harriet."

"Yeah, but you woulda been so good at it."

"How are we still arguing about this?" Aris asks, earning a chuckle from you.

"Minho was a Keeper, though, weren't ya?" Brenda butts in.

"Oh, yeah?" Maybe Minho is hallucinating, but your tone sounds almost flirty, "What was that like? Can't have been easy tryna look after a bunch of boys."

"Eh, I didn't mind it. Kept me busy and I knew the Maze like the back of my hand- which made my job easier."

"Wow, that's quite the feat- I didn't even remember the Maze that well."

"Yes, you did," Harriet jumps in, and you send her a confused look.

"No, I didn't?"

"Yeah, ya did- I've been out there with you."

"No, I used pattern recognition to figure out what was coming next."

"Same thing."

"That is not the same thing," Minho defends you, almost naturally, which shocks himself.

"Exactly- you gonna argue with with two Runners?" Harriet puts her arms up in defence, accepting her defeat.

The conversation starts to flow more naturally, and Minho eases. You leave for a second, going to get another drink. This is going well. Minho has absolutely nothing to be worried about, and apparently, Gally is a decent wingman. Who would've thought?

Well, you approach again, not saying anything as someone shouts Minho, making him turn around without realising you're standing right behind him. He knocks into you, sending your drink into you chest, spilling it everywhere.

"Shuck," he hisses, watching you pull your lips into a fine line. The liquid drips down your chin and stains your favourite shirt, causing it to stick to your chest- something that Minho tries to not act weird about. "I'm- shit, I'm sorry."

You put the glass down on a nearby crate being used as a table. "It's fine," you say through gritted teeth. "I'm gonna call it a night, anyway."

You suck on your teeth. This is why you don't like people. You don't have problems like this without other people.

"Aw, what?" Sonya complains, but you're already walking away, wiping your face with your hand. "(Y/N)!"

Minho groans, rubbing his face before making eye contact with Brenda. "Smooth."

You resort to your typical demeanour, spending your time in the gardens and ignoring everyone.

"Have you tried actually flirting with her?" Brenda suggests, no fully in the loop even though it wasn't exactly hard to miss. Brenda, Minho, and Gally sit around a table, taking a break from the days workload.

"I spilt her drink down her- I don't think she'll appreciate me flirting with her." Minho huffs.

"She's pretty forgiving. You might as well try."

"I don't- I don't even know how to flirt with a girl- what do I even do?"

"Try and touch her as much as possible, tell her she's hot and that you wanna-" Gally's input is cut off by Brenda punching him in the arm.

"Just talk to her, compliment her, let her know you're interested and then let her make the move- don't listen to Gally, that'll just make her uncomfortable."

"How do you know?"

"Hate to break it to you, Gally, but I happen to be a woman."

"Yeah, but, I mean.." Minho stands up, sick of his friends bickering and all the teasing. He'll just take Brenda's advice and talk to you. It was easy enough last night, for the most part.

"What do you want?" You say before he even opens his mouth. You're crouching down, planting even more seeds in your already overgrown garden.

Not a great start.

"I, uh, I just wanted to apologise for last night. I didn't realise you were stood there and-"

"I already told you; it's fine."

"Yeah, but still," he sighs, "I feel like kind of a slinthead."

"I don't know what that even means."

"Right," he pauses, Brenda's words circling his head. Maybe he should try a compliment. "You, uh, you look pretty." You pause, not really saying anything for a second.

"Do I?" You're covered in dirt and in your gardening garb.

"I mean, yeah. I mean I think you look pretty- I mean you do look pretty- you are pretty- you look good, even when you- you always look good."

You look at him, a lop-sided smirk appearing in your face. "You wanna try that again?"

Obviously, you've noticed Minho's attraction to you. Actually, you've been told it both from your friends and from Brenda. This morning she came over basically begging for you to give Minho a chance, only to be pulled away by Jorge.

It's actually kind of cute.

"Shuck, I'm bad at this," he mumbles, "Yeah. Could I?"

"Be my guest."

"I think you're beautiful, (Y/N)," he says after a second to gain his composure.

Something about this clicks in your head. Your heart rate picks up as you look at him. For a moment, you understand the hype around Minho. He's objectively attractive, and him being an anxious stuttering mess around you is somehow only making him more appearing.

You stand up, scoffing to yourself. "Thanks, Minho."

God, his name sounds so good on your lips. He could listen to you say it all the time. He wonders how else it would sound when-

He stops himself.

It took you saying his name for his mind to start going in that direction? Maybe he's more worked up than he thought.

"Hey?" You wave your hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance, "You good?"

He cleats his throat. "Yeah, I'm good."

"You just gonna stand there or gimme a hand?"

"Uh, sure- yeah." You throw a bag of seeds in his direction. He fumbles slightly, but he catches it, not coming across as smooth as he would want to be.

He spends the rest of his day poorly attempting to talk to you. He even does that almost cartoonist thing where he tried to lean on a beam and completely missed.

Another thing you notice is the sheer amount of girls now looking in your direction. They're gawking over a working and sweating Minho and glaring at you.

"You're quite the eye-candy," Minho's heart nearly jumps out of his chest as he picks up another bag of fertiliser.

"What?" You jolt your head towards the small group of girls gathering. "Oh, right."

"Seems like you get a lot of attention."

"I don't want their attention," his tone is blunt and sturdy for maybe the first time since you've spoken to him.

"Oh, yeah? 'Cause you want my attention instead, right?" Minho freezes as you look at him, hand casually on your hip.

"What if I do?" Confidence bubbles in his chest. His tone is flirtatious, and he's starting to actually understand that this is how you hit on someone.

"Maybe you could try talking to me like a person instead of stalking me from a distance," and with that, Minho's bubble of confidence bursts.

"I wasn't- I didn't mean-" he sighs, "I didn't mean to be creepy."

You laugh. You actually laugh. And it's like music to Minho's ears.

"I don't get it," you shake your head, continuing with your shovelling, "you could have anyone you want here."

"Yeah, well, I don't think you're right about that."

"Huh? You clearly can."

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"Because I want you."

Maybe that was too forward from Minho. That much is clear when your moments stop, but when the red starts to creep across your face, he realises that he's actually cracked you.

"I- I, come on, man," you force a laugh to try and play it off, "you can't be saying klank like that."

"Why not? It's true."

"Dude," you send him a warning look. "Why me? Hm? You don't even know me." He falls quiet. You furrow your brows, confusion setting in. "Minho?"

"I think I do," he mumbles.

"What?"

"I think I know you," he says, more confident, "I know it sounds insane- but we obviously had our memories wiped- I don't know. You feel familiar, like maybe I knew you before."

You stand, silently looking at him. You honestly don't know what to think of this. He knows you? It's clear your memory wipe is stronger than his, but it does feel like you've met him before.

"Sorry- that's weird, I just-"

"Minho!" Frypan yells him from a distance, "Gally needs help building this shack! Come on!"

He anxiously looks at you, vaguely pointing in the direction of his friend before walking away, leaving you to process everything that's happened.

You told Sonya, Harriet, and Aris everything that had happened. Aris was lost, Harriet intrigued, and Sonya was practically frothing at the mouth.

It then turned into them pressuring you to talk to Minho instead, but you decided to leave it until you saw him again naturally.

That doesn't exactly happen.

Waking up early one morning, you come out of your hut and notice Minho sitting on the sand, in front of the waves, basking in the rising son.

Sucking in a deep breath, you gain some confidence and walk over to him. "Hey," he looks up at you as you stand behind him. You're in your casual running pants and sports bra, which makes his brain do a backflip.

"Hey," he's kind of surprised that you've approached him first, but you've spent the days between your last conversations thinking of him.

"I was gonna go on a run, wanna race?" A grin starts to cross his face.

"You think you can beat me?"

"No," you smirk, "I know I can."

He stands up, dusting off some of the sand. "Alright, girly, where we racing to?"

"From here to the Creek?"

"The Creek?"

"You don't know about the Creek? Bro, you're missing out."

He agrees to these terms and you both get ready. Counting in, you both start, though Minho stumbles slightly- clearly not used to the sand.

Despite your head start, Minho easily catches up. You playfully push him out of the way, which he's fast to return.

To get to the Creek, you have to cut across some of the sand dunes, which means leaving the beach. You take a sharp right, causing Minho to stumble as you book it through the dunes.

Loud laughs escape you as you throw your arms up. You grind to a halt, stopping at a large circle of rocks with a pool in the middle, accompanied by a small waterfall.

"You shucking cheat!" He catches up to you, slowly to a jog before he doubles over.

"Told you I'd beat you," you grin at him.

"Yeah, only because you're a cheater."

"Wow," he stands up straight as you step closer to him, "shoulda guessed you'd be a sore loser."

He presses his tongue into his cheek, humming as he nods, bitterly. "That's how you wanna do this, huh?"

"Gotta play the game."

"Hm, well, if you insist." With now warning, Minho picks you up, making you shriek as he throws you over his shoulder.

"Minho!" You cry out, kicking your legs but it's too late.

The water is freezing as he drops you in. You're submerged by the crystal-clear serene water in seconds.

You rise again, gasping for air as Minho laughs at you. "You bitch!" This just makes his laugh even more.

"Gotta play the game, right?" You splash him, making him step back. "Alright, alright!" He shields his face, running his fingers through his hair before he looks at you, a mischievous smirk appearing.

"What?" You dare ask.

Minho pulls at the bottom of his shirt, yanking it over his head. You don't mean to stare, but you do. He chest and mid-drift are chiselled as dark hair dusts across his lower stomach, leading further into his pants. Your mind goes fuzzy for a second.

You don't have much time to ogle though as he runs forward, pulling his legs to his chest and cannonballing into the water. Water spashes everywhere, drowning you once again as you turn to face him.

He re-emerges, flicking his hair before pushing it back. "Shuck!" He exclaims. "It's shuckin' freezing!"

You laugh at him, wheezing as you try to cat g your breath, resulting in you being hit by another wave of water that Minho throws at you. You respond this time, which ends up turning into a splashing match.

And then into a shoving one.

The Creek is filled with laughter and the sounds of splashing water, and neither of you remember the last time you had this much fun.

You keep sending small, concise waves in Minho's direction. "Okay, okay- stop. Okay," he swims closer, grabbing you wrists and stopping the movements. "That's enough."

Your giggles slow as he holds your hands in place. "Enough." Both of your chests rise and fall as he stands in front of you.

Minho thinks you're the most beautiful thing he's even seen. Your hair sticks to your face, water running down your collarbone and cleavage.

And, honestly, the feeling is mutual. The chuckles quickly stop as you both stare at each other. You can't help yourself when your eyes land on his lips.

Oh God.

Almost unconsciously, you move closer to him, and he does the same, like two magnets pulling towards each other. Your faces are mere centimetres apart as he drops your wrists, hands coming to your hips under the water instead.

Minho is hypnotised. You're so close, and the feeling of your skin under his fingers is making him feel almost drunk. He didn't know it was possible for a person to make him feel this way.

Faint shouting from the distance snaps you both out of your trance. People at the Safe Haven are waking up and the day is about to begin- both of your absences isn't going to go unnoticed.

You pull away, clearly your throat, "We should go. They'll wonder where we are."

"Uh, yeah- you're right."

Minho doesn't bother to put his shirt back on for the walk, letting the air dry his skin. Which is completely distracting, and you swear he caught you looking more than once. But he doesn't say anything.

Once you're closer, he pulls his shirt back on and you split up, mumbling some very awkward goodbyes.

You slip back into your hut, unnoticed, drying yourself off and getting changed.

Unfortunately, damp Minho had an audience the second he returned. He doesn't think he's ever got this much attention.

You and Minho suddenly become as bad as each other. Your conversations are brief but full of tension, so much so that your friends can notice until it all comes ahead.

You've, once again, been peer-pressured into having some fun. Leaning on a beam at the side of the party, you watch from afar.

Some girl came up to Minho about fifteen minutes ago, and she's beeb hanging off of him ever since. You've failed to join in on your conversation with your friends, who are exchanging some knowing looks between one another.

"I don't get it," Sonya says after a while, "you know he likes you, and you're clearly at least starting to like him- so why not do something about it?"

"What?" You pull your death stare away, looking at your blond ally instead.

"You and Minho? Finch it, being in the same room as you guys is enough to turn anyone on- so I can't imagine how you guys feel."

"You're looking to much into it; everyone likes Minho. I'm not about to be another girl pining for his affection."

"Yeah, but he likes you." Harriet joins in. "There's no competition because he's already yours. Sonya's right; do something about it."

You look at them before returning your gaze to Minho and the girl. They're right.

And you've had enough of this.

"Fuck it," you down the rest of your drink in one mouthful, slamming it down and making your way over to him.

Wordlessly, he notices you approaching as he sits amongst his friends, practically ignoring the girl. You take his hand as he looks up at you like a lost puppy.

He makes no hesitation to push the girl off, standing up and letting you lead him to literally wherever you want. Whistles from Gally and Frypan fill the noise from behind you, but you don't care anymore.

You pull him into your hut, the light is dim as you shut the door behind the both of you.

"(Y/N)? What are you-?" You push him backwards, making him hit the wall as you stand in front of him. Once again, your faces are painfully close.

"You still want me?" You mumble, nearly into him as his body goes limp, eyes becoming hooded.

He nods. "More than anything."

"Do..." the questions makes you cringe, somehow becoming nervous despite knowing you're not about to get rejected, "do tou want to be my boyfriend?"

Your eyes flicker down, not able to meet his gaze, and you hear him scoff. "Of shuckin' course I do."

The scene you look up at him again, his lips are on yours. It's a deep kiss, but a safe one, and you pull away from each other for a second.

"Damn," he smirks, "if I knew you were the possessive type, I woulda made you jealous sooner."

"Shut up," you grumble, pressing your lips back to his. It's feverish this time, his hands gripping your hips to pull you closer, whilst your hands come to his hair, tangling in his dark locks.

He hums into you as you pull on his bottom lip with your teeth, both of you move in sync as he leads you to the bed, falling on top of you.

His hands travel under your shirt, desperate to feel your skin against his once again as your bodies tangle together. You pull at his shirt, and he takes the hint, breaking the kiss to pull it off.

It gives you the chance to drink in his appearance. He's dishevelled and messy, panting with large pupils and parted lips. He's never felt this needy in his life, watching as you sit up, pulling your own shirt off.

You reconnect, Minho pushing himself between your legs, your nails digging into his back as he transfers his affection to your neck. You let out a shaky breath, which very nearly comes out as a moan.

It just pushes Minho further as he sinks his teeth into the sensitive flesh of your neck. Your body twitches, and you gasp, clinging onto him further.

"Minho," your voice is whispy and full of an emotion Minho hasn't heard before. He thought he liked hearing you say his name before, but now he could literally get drunk off of the word. "Please."

He grabs you thigh, hiking your leg up further as he grinds against you. Let's be honest, the boy has been rock solid since the first kiss.

"I've never..." He mutters against you skin, "I've never done this before. I don't really... know what I'm doing."

"You think I do?" You chuckle. "Do you want to do this, or should we wait?"

He pauses, looking at you. "I want you so fuckin' bad- I've never felt like this before. But if you want to wait, then I'll wait for as long as you need. Do you want to wait?"

Hearing Minho actually swear instead of the Glader slang is rare, and sends even more heat through you as Harriet's words ring through your head.

He's already yours.

He hovers on top of you as he waits for your answer, and you shake your head.

"No," you mumble, bucking up your hips against his, making him hiss and his breath hitches before you kiss him once again.

Another Minho piece woooo. I've got a couple of requests to get through now to keep me busy, so there should be some steady content coming out, but requests are still open. Also sorry if it takes me a bit to get to your requests, I promise I will get to them.

I hope you enjoyed :))

[haddonfieldwhore]

scary dog privilege pt2- ethan landry

ethan landry x alt! reader

❤️🔪 spoilers for scream 6 🔪❤️

❤️🔪 spoilers for scream 6 🔪❤️

2.2k words // part 1

warnings: mentions of death, violence, blood/gore language, one instance of y/n, not edited

❥ taglist: @breadbowser @lillunna @fanboyluvr @wroetoslut @gojosbucket

in the last 12 hours, you and ethan had grown very close, despite the more than unusal circumstances; or maybe because of them. both having been thrown into such a crazy situation, with a masked killer on the loose, it made it a little better that you weren’t going through it alone. everyone in the group had someone - tara and sam had eachother, same with chad and mindy. ethan and you were by far the most outcasted from the group, so in a weird way it brought you together.

sam and tara had been attacked by a killer in a ghostface mask at a bodega on the way to the police station last night, confirming that the murder that had happened a few hours before was in fact no coincidence. woodsboro had followed sam and tara and their friends to new york, and by association, you, ethan and everyone else were potential targets as well as potential suspects.

it was now daytime, sam and tara having spent all night at the police station. everyone except danny, sam’s neighbour friend, were sat outside the college campus, listening to mindy go over the rules of a franchise; which is what she determined you were all in at this point. sitting on the bench next to ethan with your legs across his lap, as mindy stood in front of the group.

“listen up nerds. as terrifying as this situation is, i’m actually glad i get the chance i get to redeem myself for not calling the killers last time. now, it seems like the killer is out to make a sequel to the requel,” mindy began.

“um- what’s a requel?” anika asked, raising her hand.

“sweetie, you’re beautiful. let’s hold all questions till the end,” mindy said.

“stab 1 took place in woodsboro…. stab 2 took place in…college,” sam recalled.

“i don’t like this,” ethan shook his head.

“do we think the killer is following the movies?” tara asked.

“it’s possible, and it would make sense if this was a regular sequel. but nobody just makes sequels anymore, we’re in a franchise! and there are certain rules to surviving a franchise!” mindy explained.

“i had a feeling,” sam sighed.

“everything has to be bigger than last time. forget about the legacy characters; canon fodder at this point. only brought back to be killed of in a cheap bit for nostalgia bit. it’s all about doing something different to keep people coming back: longer chase scenes, higher body count. if the killers last time were whiney, snowflake film nerds with letterboxd accounts instead of personalities, you can expect it to be the opposite this time. new city, suspicious new characters added to the friend group to round out the suspect list. and that’s not even the worst part,” mindy went on.

“oh this is where she tells us the worst part,” chad chimes in.

“the thing about franchises is that they’re ongoing episodic storylines… which means that main characters are expendable now too. meaning any of us could bite it at any time… especially sam and tara.”

“wait- am i in the friend group?” ethan asked, and mindy nodded.

“yeah i feel like i don’t really qualify,” you added. “i didn’t even know you guys 2 days ago.”

“this is true. it would seem you just have terrible timing. plus- you are from woodsboro, so that probably counts for something,” chad said, and unfortunately you realized he was probably right.

“but-i’m not like… one of the targets?” ethan asked, to which mindy nodded again and responded with a simple ‘mhm’.

“am i gonna die a virgin?” ethan asked, perhaps not realizing he said it out loud.

“that was a weird overshare.” mindy said, making a face.

“and by the looks of it i don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” chad teased, gesturing to you and ethan. a blush formed on ethan’s face and you gave chad the finger, although you weren’t really that offended. he returned the gesture with a smile, and you knew he had just been teasing.

“first up; ethan, the shy and dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s so shy and dorky-“ mindy continued her speech.

“watch it,” you threatened, giving her a nasty look.

“why am i on the suspect list? because i’m randomly chads roomate?” ethan asked.

“roomate lotteries can be juked- you could’ve fixed it to get next to us!” she said, turning her attention to you. “and you- clearly you have some unresolved anger issues, and you suspiciously found your way into our friend group the night the killings started. not to mention the fact that you look like you know how to murder someone and get away with it.”

“for the record - i was not exactly trying to join your friend group; no offence.”

“so how did you end up with us last night?” tara asked genuinely.

“we were together at the frat party when you all left,” ethan explained. “we have econ together.”

“together.. at the party?” chad asked suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows, and tara slapped his arm. “sorry.”

“i’m in your film studies class too,” you said to mindy, ignoring chads question.

“interesting. so you also have a connection to the first victim.”

“mindy- i know you’re having your patented monologue moment, but i was at the same party as you when the murder happened. and i was in the apartment with you when sam and tara were attacked- we all were.”

“there’s always more than one killer- which brings us back to ….quinn - the slutty roomate; a horror movie classic.”

“sex positive, and… thank you?” she said, a confused look on her face.

“how exactly did you come to live with sam and tara?”

“i answered their ad online-“

“okay, say no more; you’ve already implicated yourself enough,” mindy interrupted.

“it was an anonymous ad mindy, plus her dad is a cop-“

“and that makes it more likely that she’s the killer becasue having a cop dad is a great cover- do you not remember how these movies work tara?” she yelled. “and finally; anika,” she said gesturing to her girlfriend, who blew a kiss at her, which mindy returned. “never trust the love interest.” her eyes narrowed, and anikas smile dropped.

“okay.. so we have our rules. and we have our suspects.”

“uhh what about you guys?” ethan suggested, referring to the four survivors from last years attacks.

“i think it’s safe to rule out the four of us who went through this last year,” mindy smiled.

“agreed.” chad said, pointing at her.

“well what if it is one of you. i mean what if the trauma from the last killing spree got to be too much and one… or more of you snapped.” quinn suggested.

“or- what if all of the killings made you thirsty for more? i mean to be honest some of the theories online about sam…” ethan started.

“don’t you fucking dare.” tara snapped, and he raised his eyebrows, but didn’t continue his sentence.

“ok let’s just face facts. if we’re all suspects, you’re all suspects.” anika said.

everyone silently agreed, eyeing eachother nervously as you

///

everyone was back at sam and tara’s apartment, except for ethan, who had said he was going to econ. with everything going on you decided not to go, as well you thought better to stay with the group than split up. you had tried to convince ethan to stay as well, but he said his dad would kill him if he didn’t go - he was super uptight about grades and stuff.

sitting on the couch with anika as chad, mindy, tara and sam were in the kitchen, you started to wish you had gone with ethan. what if something happened to him?

“shit,” you muttered under your breath, and anika looked over at you.

“hey… if you’re worried about ethan, i’m sure he’s fine. he’s with a bunch of people in class right?” she smiled. you were thankful for the reassurance, and to her surprise you smiled back.

“you’re right… thank you.”

“you seem cool. i wish we met under better circumstances,” she admitted, and you were a little surprised; she was one on the only people in ethan’s friend group who had been nice to you.

“yeah, me too.”

“so.. you and ethan?” she asked playfully, and you shrugged, looking at your phone awkwardly, secretly hoping he would text to say he was alive or something.

“i don’t know. we made out at the party and then… all this happened.” you said. it had been a crazy 24 hours to say the least. you wondered what you would be doing right now if you hadn’t talked to ethan at the party. “he’s cute though. it’s nice to have a … friend through all this i guess.” you weren’t sure why you were being so open with her, but you couldn’t help but feel a little better after talking about how you were feeling.

“well, i think after all this is over we could be friends. isn’t stuff like this supposed to bring people together?” she said, and you felt your phone buzz in your lap. “is that him?”

“yeah; he’s just checking in,” you answered, before typing a reply to ethan to let him know you were all okay. you typed out “i miss you” but decided against sending it, instead erasing the message and dropping your phone back on your lap. it soon buzzed again, and you picked it up, expecting it to be ethan again.

banging sounds could be heard from quinn’s bedroom, and you assumed it was her and her guest going at it again, until you heard the four voices in the dining room hush and someone mutter a quiet “oh my god.”

looking at your phone, you opened a text from an unknown number to be met with a photo of someone in a ghostface costume holding a bloody quinn, just on the other side of the door. everyone gathered next to you and anika in the living room, and you all stood in silence staring at the door to quinn’s room.

“run,” mindy spoke, and the door swung open, quinn’s body landing on you and anika, knocking you both to the floor. ghostface followed close behind and slashed at mindys arm, as chad and tara ran out of the apartment, leaving you, mindy, anika and sam. pushing quinn’s bloodied body off of the two of you, terror flashed in your eyes as the killer dove towards you, and you sent him backwards with a boot to the chest. he went after anika next, his hands wrapping around her throat and lifting her off the ground, and she squirmed around before he pinned her to the wall and drove his knife into her stomach. she screamed in pain as the killer twisted the knife and dragged it upwards, blood pouring from the wound before you picked up a dining room chair and slammed it over his back. the killer dropped anika to the ground, and you and mindy grabbed her and followed sam into quinn’s room, managing to slam the door just in time. the killer banged against it repeatedly and you turned the lock, leaning against the door as you breathed heavily.

“mindy- bathroom door,“ sam whispered, and mindy hurried to lock door on the other side of the room to the adjacent bathroom, where you heard her exclaim, you assumed at the sight of quinn’s lovers body, considering he was nowhere to be seen. sam followed walked over to the window, and you heard her slide it open as you held your hands against anikas stomach, trying to stop the bleeding.

sam and mindy screamed, the killer having come around to the other side of the door through the bathroom, throwing his body against it and trying to break open the lock. you and anika ran over, and tried to help mindy hold the door closed. after slashing at you with the knife, creating a deep gash in your shoulder blade, the four of you managed to push him out, barricading the door with a dresser. it wouldn’t hold him off for long, and he continued to kick at the door as danny, sams boyfriend next door slid a ladder over the expanse between the two windows for you all to crawl across.

“she’s loosing a lot of blood,” mindy said, referring to anika.

“say something more positive!” she cried in response, as sam started climbing out the window. sam made it across, calling for mindy to come next. you and her were using your weight to hold the dresser in place, trying to keep the killer out of the room with all of your strength.

“someone has to hold the door. y/n you go, i’ll get anika next.” she suggested instead, and you knew mindy just wanted to stay behind to protect her girlfriend. somehow even with everything that was currently happening, your mind flashed to ethan; and you were thankful that he wasn’t here, and that he was somewhere safe. “come on!”

you shrieked as the killer managed to get the door slightly open, and reach his arm through, the silver knife in his hand catching your cheekbone and leaving a long cut behind. mindy still leaning all of her weight against the dresser nodded at you to go, and you made your way to the window, grabbing hold of the ladder. sam and danny were holding it steady on the other side, and all you could think was

do not look down

do not look down

do not look down-

you crawled across the cold ladder over the alleyway below; which was surely a 30 foot drop if not further. you made it across and danny pulled you into the apartment, as sam called for anika to come next. her and mindy went back and forth on who should go across first, and anika promised to be right behind mindy. pressing a tearful kiss to her shaking girlfriends lips, mindy started her crawl across the ladder as you all held the ladder steady from the other side.

you watched as the dresser continued to shake from the killer kicking the door to get in, and anika cried that she couldn’t do it as she approached the window, her trembling hands gripping the ladder with blood covered fingers. she was bleeding badly from her stomach, but with reassurance from mindy and sam, she got onto the ladder and slowly started moving across it. she was about a third of the way across, and the four of you in danny’s apartment watched with wide eyes as the killer broke into the room with no one’s weight holding the dresser.

“what?” anika asked, noticing that all of you had gone silent.

“anika you need to move right now!” mindy and sam yelled, urging her to continue across the ladder. she looked back as the killer stabbed the knife into the windowsill, and grabbed hold of the ladder. anika screamed and held on for dear life as he began to shake the ladder up and down, and then from side to side; attempting to throw her off of it.

the four of you tried desperately to hold it steady, mindy in hysterics. begging the terrified to hurry across the ladder. she managed to move slightly forward and was almost close enough to reach sams outstretched hand, as she called for her to take it. the ladder shook hard as she tried to grab hold of sams hand, and the killer twisted it to side, causing anika to fall screaming to the ground below, her head slamming into the open dumpster below. mindy balled next to you, and you all stared across the alleyway at the killer, as he picked up the knife and walked out of view.

[typellblog]

I kind of hate what they did to fblthp by the way (surprisingly long post)

Like here's the card the character is first shown on. While he's a main focus of the art his name only comes up in the flavour text - he's being used to help evoke the feeling that this card is actually about, being lost.

The specificity of his silly design and silly name helps make the scenario more concrete and in doing so got people invested in the character

Now there's already kind of a limit to what you can further do with this kind of guy, he's not by nature intended to become any more prominent than he already is, but what they did end up doing fits quite nicely

In a few different cards set on ravnica he appears as a cameo in the art. Not a main focus, not referenced in the flavour text, he's just doing his usual business of being lost and overshadowed by everything else going on as he is by the crowds in the original piece

But of course, not satisfied by that, we get fblthp becoming the center of a card in his own right:

I don't entirely hate this - in war of the spark the landscape of ravnica dramatically shifts & now fblthp's typical lostness, incongruity, becomes a touchstone for those more invested in the setting. Whether it's a crowd or a warzone, fblthp remains lost.

I think the point where it becomes a little too much is this:

Now alongside borborygmos, the joke becomes, of course, that fblthp's small stature is overshadowed by the massive cyclops. But nonetheless fblthp figures heavily in this card - is not hidden away like his cameos, but placed in a spot where the eye is drawn to. His name is on the name of the card, his colour identity of blue is in the casting cost, and his ability to "get lost" actually serves as a powerful way to protect the card from removal. This card is part of a cycle of legendary creatures teaming up to defend their home planes from phyrexia and in that context fblthp is elevated to that mythic status - no longer a representation of the overshadowed & everyday life of ravnican citizens, but as an example of one of the exceptions to it.

And that, in turn, leads to:

This fucking sucks, dude. Fblthp is not remotely 'lost' in this card, he is the main attraction, the center of attention, perspective meaning he actually overshadows the dragons surrounding him. Mechanically speaking - the "plot" keyword was introduced in thunder junction, the set this card is from. he does not remotely feel out of place in his design.

The single, solitary way in which this card works is that it takes the joke of fblthp to the next level, has him cameo in not a different card but a different plane entirely, puts him in an incongruous cowboy hat, makes him not just lost but lost 'on the Range'.

The problem with this is that it's also the entire joke of the set.

Every character is incongruous in Thunder Junction because none of them are native to the plane, it is filled with returning characters where the whole point is "look it's Oko but he has a cowboy hat, please laugh"

And it's not just Planeswalkers, either - with the introduction of omenpaths to the lore now any character can go to different planes. Maybe fblthp could have continued to be funny if he was the only non-planeswalker to appear in truly foreign locales, propelled only by the mysterious power of The Bit

But it's ultimately impossible for anyone, any thing to be truly incongruous in the post-modern era of magic the gathering because they all have to be recognisable, marketable & evocative of nostalgia

A little guy whose whole bit is cameo appearances cannot survive in a world whose entire design philosophy is oriented towards increasingly unsubtle cameo appearances

[ifthesewings--couldfly]

My Long, Spoilery Review for Inside Out 2

Despite me having decided to wait for Inside Out 2 to drop on Disney Plus before seeing it, the quantity of clips circulating on social media made it absolutely impossible to stay spoiler-free until the next three months or so, and since critique and public alike seemed to really like this movie, I decided I wanted to see the whole thing before I got spoiled for good. I know I probably played the Big Mouse Game by doing so and I’m not happy about it, but from a storytelling standpoint, Inside Out 2 did deserve to be enjoyed as a whole.

‼️ATTENTION SPOILERS AHEAD‼️

The movie is as good as everyone makes it out to be. The new emotions didn’t feel like they came out of nowhere like I initially thought (except for Nostalgia, which I found forced and mildly annoying) and the new concepts, like Riley's Sense of Self, are brilliant. One of my favorite scenes was Joy visiting the place where the Sense of Self is kept along with Sadness. I liked how the topic of Anxiety was handled in a non-clichy way, and how she wasn’t made to be the villain, but in the end, she turned out to care about Riley just as much as Joy and the other emotions did. The only reason why she bottled them up was why she genuinely believed they were getting in her way of helping Riley. The pacing of the movie seems a little fast as first, but the idea of setting it during a three-days hockey camp is the perfect timeframe for the story they wanted to tell: a new situation, but still, not one that could have consequences in the “real world” if you get what I mean. I found it to be the perfect scenario to tell how things that might seem “the end of the world” to us, in the end are not actually that serious. In the end, this isn’t one of those movies that makes you say “I like the sequel better than the original” but rather “this continuation is so natural, it feels like first and second movie are two parts of a whole.” Pixar is building a way more solid franchise than anything Disney has done recently - I consider the two studios two separate entities - and if this level of quality is being kept, I actually wouldn’t mind an Inside Out 3.

Now, for the things I liked less.

The emotions were too “personified” if this makes sense. I didn’t like the fact that emotions can somehow feel emotions themselves (e.g. Anger stating that “He can’t always be angry”, or Joy stating that it’s hard for her to be positive all the time). I didn’t also like the fact that emotions can apparently have feelings for each other. I perceived an unsettling intention of pairing up Riley’s emotions from the creators of this movie. Sadness with Embarrassment, Joy with Anger, heck even Fear with Anxiety (“I can change her”? Really?) I don’t know what the creators were trying to do here. Non-canon ships are fine, they’re the soul of every fandom, but when they’re being fed to you by the creators themselves, it comes off as weird. Disgust simping over Lance Slashblade was a fun gag, but trying to imply the emotions could get together as couples was really not. And speaking of forced things, I feel the inclusion of mixed-technique animation to be somewhat forced and proof that both Disney and Pixar are falling behind in terms of technical innovation. At this point, it’s clear they they are no longer the standard for Western animation.

My rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ out of 5

[angeart]

can u feed us some hybrid au 🤲

always!! (brb running around in circles, bouncing off the walls etc, excited)

i wish i knew if you want mimic stuff or general hhau (i certainly have both) (reminds me i should go and compile more mimic arc rambles. the next part is the aftermath!! it's been a hectic couple of days sorry kxcjbn)

you can consider this a bonus to the hhau mimic arc rambles part I, as I skipped this bit thinking maybe i'll make a mini post about it later. this is about the mimic learning there are places that aren't as horrible as this world. and that grian and scar are so different, because they're from elsewhere. (~1k words long, below the cut <3)

so here's the thing. the mimic gets attached to scar for various reasons. desperation, safety, right? but it's the kindness. it's the kindness that seals the deal.

touch-starved and never once in his life treated truly kindly, like he matters, the mimic keeps to scar like a lost puppy, trying to understand this. trying to wrangle with this feeling of being treated well? like an actual person that has needs and feelings. it's so wild to him. so strange. it hurts a little bit, but in a good way. in a way that leaves him craving more. (in a way where he doesn't think he can survive without it anymore.)

and it's so hard, and it's so skewed, because scar is threading a fine line of, basically, how to treat the mimic nicely versus trying to not hurt grian too much. since the mimic looks like grian and grian already feels lesser, like a burden, etc. like he could be replaced. like maybe one day the line blurs a bit too much—

and grian doesn't want to be mean to the mimic, either. he's just a hybrid in distress, trying to stay safe by any means necessary. grian recognises that, even though he hates these particular means. it's so hard, to see the mimic constantly around. to have him near not only himself, but near scar. to watch scar be attentive and gentle towards this look-alike.

but, just to be clear, grian isn't treating the mimic badly. he's just distant, and they have more ravines between them than any attempts at bridges. (there's this mix of really complex emotions, in all three of them, that are incredibly hard to navigate.)

anyway, that all being said.

one day, the mimic asks grian. scar is close by, but out of earshot, and the mimic is struggling wtih his feelings and comprehending who scar is and why he acts the way he does. so he asks, quietly. "how does he do that?"

grian is slow to speak to him. still uncomfortable. "do what?"

the mimic watches scar, kind of mesmerised, but there's an edge of confused trouble to his expression. "stay so kind."

and, you know. maybe grian's first thought is that this is about scar being a vex? vexes are meant to be scary and dangerous, after all. but no, no, actually, that's not it.

it's just that nothing in this world is kind.

something about grian and scar being from elsewhere. a much kinder place.

something about them never learning how to be selfish and cruel.

something about them never having to fight for survival like this.

maybe grian tells him then. that they came from somewhere peaceful and kind and silly. that the meanest things that could happen were pranks that were laughed off and cleaned up and made up for, never meant to be malicious. that it didn't matter who is what kind of hybrid. they were all free to do their own things and interact and wander, build and laugh and live, unafraid. (oh how that word now wobbles on grian's lips—)

he tells the mimic that him and scar knew each other before. that they come from the same place.

grian talks quietly, and there's such a stab of aching nostalgia in each of his words. (he can barely say these things.) (the memories of hermitcraft are painful; he doesn't know what happened to his home and to all of his friends. he doesn't think him and scar will ever get any of it back, and it's scary, and it's paralysing.) (but it also feels like warmth, to think about all of that—about him and scar somewhere less complicated, less cruel. a place that doesn't hurt.)

the mimic listens, bewildered, curious, horribly envious. he can't comprehend a world like that, but he can tell this isn't a made up story, an escapism fantasy or what not. he can tell that this is real and true and scar and grian aren't meant to be here, it explains so much about them, actually.

this isn't what the mimic expected of them, originally. based on previous encounters with hybrids. based on their wanted posters. he thought— he thought there's an avian with beautiful feathers (they don't look so beautiful from up close, broken and messed up and muddied), feral and unafraid with a vicious vex guard by his side.

and instead—

instead it's this broken pair, clinging to each other for kindness and life.

(how he wants to be a part of that.) (how he wants to also cling to kindness and life.) (how he wants to also burrow his way to a sliver of hope that existing can be more than just terror and frantic, exhausting survival.)

---

grian burrows extra close to scar that night and cries while scar holds him. talking about their home—about hermitcraft, about their friends—takes a toll on his psyche. and he finds the safest place to break down. (he finds scar. scar's arms are the safest place.)

scar doesn't question it. he wraps his arms around him and kisses his hair, happy to provide all the soothing affection he can.

and the mimic's heart hurts, because he'll never get to know what that feels like. to be safely burrowed in someone's arms. to be allowed to be weak and fall apart. to be so irrevocably cherished. (to be loved.)

---

and if the mimic ever asks them if they think they'll ever get to go back home? (an uneasy question, as it makes him think of being left alone in this hopeless, dreary world)

well— scar and grian both just go silent. (it's a too heavy question. destabilising. horribly painful.) (it's too much to admit they don't really hold hope. not anymore. not after all this time.) (the only thing they have left of their home is each other, and they'll fight this world tooth and nail to keep that.)