#really i just wanted to try and come up with a shitty theme park that just kills you

[dw-flagler]

thinking about Worm World, the worm themed theme park in southern maine.

Worm World's main attraction is The Legend which is a coaster with no speed governor which frequently goes up to 35% faster than design tolerances allow.

It also has another rollercoaster called Alexandria which is the euthanasia coaster but there's 53 beehives next to the track. (Also two mud dauber nests but they aren't supposed to be there and management can't be assed to hire an exterminator). Guests at the park can buy Warlord Honey which is harvested from the beehives at the park and is actually like really good.

Guests at the park can do meet n' greets with beloved Wormies, like Bitch, who always brings dogs (any guests that touch the dogs without permission are beaten and bodily thrown from the park).

Any park guests who are injured or feeling unwell can go to Bonesaw's clinic, which is just, like, a completely normal first aid station, but. why did they call it that? I mean, they have to know that's a bad choice, right? Why does the first aid station have to be themed? it could just be a normal first aid station and nobody would care.

It has a waterpark section that's all themed around Leviathan, with a wave pool, one of those big bucket things (which fills up and is emptied 10x faster than most other ones in the country), and many more attractions. Sometimes has prop dead bodies at the attractions too.

There's a huge walled section on the other side that says SIMURGH LAND, COMING SOON but it's said that since 2002 and nobody's been allowed in and the security team at Worm World is like, weirdly adamant about not letting anyone in, to the point where they even guard the thing during the off-season, and it's really strange. People have tried to use drones to take pictures but the security team always shuts them down and I heard my cousin's friend's wife's sister had a drone and the security team shot it down with a shotgun in the middle of the operating day.

[writingforstraykids]

I keep thinking about dilf!Felix like him being your besties dad or something….

-🎀

I swear I've been staring at this for so long, debating if I should do a full fic or just some thoughts. Well, thank my dear Azzy @galaxycatdrawz for this, because you made his thoughts go wild. Basically I just had to transform his whole little plan into a fic. There will be 2nd chapter (including smut) but have fun with this for now.🖤

Finding home in your heart

Pairing: Felix x fem!reader (mention of Minchan | Jisung)

Word Count: 7571

Summary: Felix got cheated on by his wife repeatedly and ends up heartbroken after the discovery. His adoptive daughter, your best friend, tells you the whole story and asks you to move in as you're struggling to find a place. Your only problem; you had a crush on Felix for ages and living with him isn't making it easier...

Warnings/Tags: angst, emotional hurt!comfort, fluff, insecure!lix, domestic shit, baking, cuddles, slowburn (ig?), first kiss, age difference (8 years, it's legal since this fic is for adults, chill out)

PART TWO

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Felix’s love life had been nothing but a steady stream of predictable days blending into years. He would have never doubted his beautiful wife and would have never second-guessed her love for him. They had gotten married early and soon found out his wife was incapable of carrying his children. So, after some consideration, they adopted a young girl and raised her like their own. She had grown into a smart young woman, and Felix couldn’t be more proud of her. Given the age gap of only ten years he had always been rather close with her and later you, her best friend.

One night he decided to surprise his wife, coming home early as his daughter was staying at yours. What greeted him wasn’t the usual warmth and coziness of his home but the sight of his wife in a certain setting no man wants to find the love of his life in with another man. For a moment, Felix found himself frozen in place, the safe foundation of his life slowly crumbling away beneath his feet. He whispered her name in disbelief, only to find out that this had been going on for years. Felix felt like his whole life shattered to pieces and the betrayal left an ugly taste of bitterness on his lips. How the hell was he supposed to get out of this?

-

“And then she just left,” your best friend ends her story, and your eyes grow even wider than they have already been. 

“You’re kidding?” you ask, shocked. 

“Apparently, she said something about how this shit has been going on for years, that she never really loved him, and that she’ll leave until he finds a new place,” she rages on and paces her bedroom angrily. “Oh, and I’m just another burden he talked her into,” she scoffs, and your frown deepens. 

“You won’t stay here, right?” you ask cautiously. You can’t imagine she will, but still. 

“Oh, hell no. I’ll go with Dad, she can piss off,” she shakes her head and drops onto her mattress. “The perk of being not related to her is that I can push her out of my life for good,” she snorts, and you gently pat her back. “I feel so bad for him,” she sighs. 

“It must’ve been a huge shock,” you nod, your heart feeling heavy. Felix has always been kind to you from day one. Whenever your family was struggling, he helped out, even if it was simply by taking you with them to theme parks, the movies, or shopping. Felix was only eight years older than you and ten years older than your best friend, so the older you got, the more he felt like an older friend instead of your best friend’s father. Also, he was stunningly handsome, but that wasn’t relevant right now.

“He’s trying to hide it, but I know how shitty he feels right now,” she tells you worriedly. “I mean, he’s never been with anyone else and-.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” you assure her gently. “He has such a kind heart, I’m sure someone will love him, truly.”

“I will thoroughly check the next person. You’ll have to help me then, go all detective on them,” she smirks, and you agree, laughing. 

A gentle knock at the door interrupts you, and Felix opens the door flashing you a tired smile as a greeting before glancing at his daughter. “Channie called, he has a spare place we can have.”

“Just like that?” she asks baffled. 

Felix chuckles weakly and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, just like that. I told him I’d pay, but Minho insisted they don’t need the place, and it’s all paid off.”

“How convenient,” she smirks and rolls her eyes. “Typical uncle Min,” she grins.

“Yeah,” he laughs and sighs softly. “You think you can get everything ready in the next few days?”

“You really can’t wait to get out of here, huh?” she laughs, and his smile dies, eyes clouding with pain. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he nods and clears his throat as his daughter looks at him apologetically. “Well, let me know when you’re hungry, and we can order something,” he announces, putting on a smile and quickly pulling the door closed. 

“See?” she whispers. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

You hum gently and pat your best friend’s knee. “Well, I can help you move, I have nothing to do those next few weeks.” 

“You’re so sweet,” she giggles and hops up, ripping the door open. “Dad, Y/nnie says she’s gonna help us move our stuff!” she shouts downstairs. 

“Lovely,” Felix shouts back halfheartedly and flinches as his daughter slams the door closed again. “Fucks sake, this woman,” he snorts and stands still in the living room for a moment. He chews on his lower lip as the many memories he made in this very room crash over him like a wave, trying to drown him. “You’re such a dumbass,” he whispers to himself. 

“No, you’re not, she’s just a massive bitch,” you speak up gently, suddenly standing in the living room with him. 

He blinks at you with wide, confused eyes before a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Mhm, you could say that. Doesn’t make me any wiser, letting her fool me for the past ten years,” he huffs softly and rubs his face. “I just feel bad for her,” he says, and you know he means your best friend upstairs. “All I always wanted for her was a stable home after everything she went through.”

“Look at her, you did great,” you tell him, and he chuckles weakly.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” he waves you off and blinks at you surprised as you offer him a hug. He accepts it after a short moment of hesitation and bites back a laugh as you pat his back encouragingly. 

“You’ll be okay…she’ll never find someone better, so fuck her. It’s her loss,” you tell him, and Felix snorts before letting go of you and grabbing his phone. 

“We’ll see,” he hums softly, subtly bringing some distance between the two of you again. “You’re gonna stay for dinner?” he asks, and you gently shake your head. 

“I promised Mum I’d be home for dinner today,” you tell him, and he nods gently.

“You need a ride?” he offers, and you wave him off. 

“I’ll be fine, promise,” you assure him and exchange your goodbyes.

One week later

You put down the boxes you carried inside and look around with wide eyes. “Wow, Min wasn’t lying. This place is huge.”

“Right? I didn’t quite believe it as well,” your best friend giggles and puts down her boxes as well.

“Why would I lie about that, huh?” Minho asks playfully offended, adding some boxes on the floor next to yours. “You think we’d give your dad and you some shabby place? You think that lowly of us?”

Chan pokes his side, making him squeak and giggles as Minho playfully raises his fists to fight him. “Relax, no one’s calling you a liar, baby.”

“Sure hope so,” he teases and naturally intertwines their hands, pulling Chan with him. “You haven’t seen the view from up here yet,” he announces and waves you after him.

You follow the pair of them onto the huge balcony, and your breath hitches. From up here, you can see parts of the city and the ocean, and still it’s so peaceful up here. 

“How’s your dad, kiddo?” Minho asks your best friend after a moment of comfortable silence.

“Worse than he admits,” she answers, and Minho hums gently. “If you ask me, he’s fucking heartbroken and feels worthless. If you ask him, he’s okay and just a little caught up in his thoughts,” she further explains. 

“Give him time,” Chan tells her gently and sighs, looking down at the ocean. “Ten years is a lot, you know?”

The door to the balcony opens, and Felix steps outside, laughing at you all. “Seriously? You’re out here enjoying the view while I’m carrying all those boxes?” he asks, and you all start laughing before hurrying back inside to help him.

Once everything is inside, Minho and Chan give you a tour through the house and you wonder what Felix and your friend would do with all this space. The couple soon leaves again to give them some space to settle in. 

Your best friend strolls through the house and frowns softly. “You’re alright?” Felix asks her, frowning softly. “I know it’s not home, but we can make it work, it’ll just need some time and-.”

“Dad, home is wherever you are, relax,” she laughs, and Felix nods, stunned, looking adorably touched by her words. “I just…this place is huge.”

“It is,” he nods. “I have no idea what the hell they had planned for this.”

“Nothing useful, as Min put it,” you chime in, and Felix grins at your remark.

“I’ll feel so lonely here if you’re at work,” she speaks up after a moment, and Felix’s face softens.

“Dear, there’ll be a point in your life when you move out and everything. I won’t always be around,” he says, and she glares at him. 

“Don’t say shit like that, you’re only ten years older than I am, it’ll take a while,” she points out, and he snorts but gives in, remaining quiet. “Y/nnie, how’s the hunt for a flat going?” she asks.

“I already told you it’s shit,” you sigh softly, not quite picking up on her true intentions behind that question. “It’s either too expensive or so much out of town it’s not exactly convenient.”

“Oh, you’re going to move out?” Felix asks, busying himself with one of the boxes.

“I want to, my parents could use the space for something else,” you nod.

“Dad?” she asks, drawing out the word with a sweet tone. 

“What do you want?” he asks, not even looking up.

“She could move in with us,” she says, and you frown at her. Felix looks up, confused, and tilts his head at her. “She can’t find a place, I worry about getting lonely here…you could use some more company as well before you’re fully depressed and-.”

“Will you stop?” he snaps at her. “I’m not depressed, I’m fine besides the fact that I got cheated on after wasting ten years of my life,” he continues and shakes his head at her. “Stop reading into it that much, I’ll start believing you at this point.”

You lower your gaze at the floor and awkwardly shuffle on your feet. “Gosh, relax,” she sighs. “That just proved my point.”

Felix throws the contents of the box back inside and pushes himself up. “I’m getting some fresh air. And yes, you can move in if you want to, it’s not like we’d lack space or whatever,” he says before leaving the two of you. 

“Nice one,” you sigh softly. 

“What?” she groans and rolls her eyes. “You know I’m right.”

“And that makes it better?” you chuckle, and she huffs softly. “Fine, fine, I’ll go apologize…but would you?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh softly. “I’d feel like I’m intruding,” you argue gently. 

“Never,” she shakes her head firmly. “Also, you’re here every day anyway, so nothing changes,” she grins before sighing softly. “Dad?” she shouts, and you roll your eyes at her.

Should you? Move in with your best friend and her heartbroken, conveniently handsome adoptive father? That could only go wrong, right?

You join them on the balcony and sigh softly, meeting your best friend’s eyes. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

She shouts in joy and pulls you into a tight hug, hopping excitedly. “You’re the best best friend I could’ve ever wished for!”

“Yeah, yeah,” you chuckle and roll your eyes playfully, catching Felix smirking at the two of you.

Three weeks later

You hum to yourself as you make your way from the kitchen to the living room area. Your best friend is staying the night at her boyfriend’s, and Felix is out on Stray Kids duty, as you jokingly call it. So, for now, you have the whole house to yourself. You moved in fully about two weeks ago, and your new room is bigger than you ever dared to imagine. There’s an attached bathroom as well, and your few things look ridiculous, trying to fill up all that space you have now. 

You grab your phone and check your messages before scrolling through some news. Refreshing the page, a new article appears on top, and you realize it’s about Felix. Curiously, you click on it, and your eyes widen, realizing it’s about what happened with his wife. You read through it and smile sadly; Felix seems to have tried putting it as respectfully and vague as he could. You don’t support what that woman did for years one bit, but you also know how their fans can get so you’re glad Felix tries to stay neutral in public.

You glance up from your phone as the front door opens downstairs, and Felix comes up the stairs only a little later. Looking at him, you can tell he was crying, and your heart sinks to your stomach, seeing how tired he looks. His eyes meet yours, and you swallow softly as he stops in his tracks as if he just remembered you live here as well. “You’re okay?” you ask softly, and for the first time in weeks, Felix shakes his head.

“Not really, no,” he admits, his voice a little raspy. You can tell he’s fighting back tears, and you gently pat the spot next to you on the sofa. Felix momentarily searches your eyes before moving forward and dropping down on the sofa next to you. “I know it’s my own fault because I took off my wedding ring but I didn’t expect them to ask already,” he tells you quietly and nervously fidgets with his hands. “Chan told me to be honest before she comes up with something that’ll drag me down.”

“I think you’ve handled it quite well,” you tell him gently, and he groans in response.

“Already online, huh?” he sighs, and you hum softly. Felix throws his head back against the sofa and stares up at the ceiling. You can’t help but take in his side profile and let your eyes wander down his neck. “I hate this.”

“Hate what?” you ask gently.

“I have to have an explanation for everything as if I’d know why she cheated. Maybe it’s because I’ve been gone often with all our schedules. Maybe she got bored. Maybe she just saw past that facade of fame and sunshine behavior and realized I’m not as lovable as everyone thinks I am,” he huffs, making you frown at him. “Maybe she never loved me in the first place, and I can’t even blame her for that.”

“Stop it now,” you scold him firmly and Felix turns his head, blinking at you. “Have you ever considered that maybe she’s just a massive bitch and there is absolutely nothing wrong with you?”

“Not really, no,” he shakes his head and sits up straight again. “That’s rather unlikely, isn’t it? There’s always a reason people cheat.”

“Sometimes it’s simply stupidity,” you insist. “Not everything is your fault, Felix.”

“Why does it feel like it then?” he asks quietly, and your heart breaks at the desperate glint in his eyes. “Why does it feel like I’m the one who fucked it all up? And why doesn’t she care one bit, and I’m here feeling like complete shit?”

“Because you loved her,” you say quietly and watch his face fall. “She didn’t try to make it right, did she? She didn’t protest when you suggested a divorce.” Felix shakes his head, eyes brimming with tears. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe she never loved you for who you truly are. Maybe all she saw was the fame, the money, the places you went to…but how is that your fault?”

“I…I should’ve known,” he says quietly, his lower lip quivering a little. 

“You can’t know that shit if they’re good at hiding and pretending. Who knows how long she could’ve kept up that show if you hadn’t come home early that day?” you ask, and Felix avoids your observant gaze, staring down at his hands. “The only thing you’re at fault for is beating yourself up for this and thinking you’re worthless.”

Felix remains quiet and presses his lips together tightly as hot tears run down his cheeks. His hair falls into his face as his head hangs low, and you can only tell as he sniffles softly. You hesitantly reach out for him and rub his back soothingly. Felix whispers an apology and buries his face in his hands, a quiet sob rippling through his body. You don’t know where you get the confidence from, but you move before you can reconsider what you’re about to do. Wrapping your arm around him, you pull him into a warm embrace and gently rub his shoulder. Felix tenses up briefly before he relaxes into your touch, allowing himself the comfort you spend. 

It doesn’t last for all too long, and Felix pushes himself off the sofa, messily wiping his cheeks. “Sorry, I shouldn’t-,” he stammers and exhales shakily. “I shouldn’t dump this all on you.”

“I don’t-” you start and shut your mouth as he raises his hand to stop you. 

“I know you don’t mind. I know,” he says and shakily wipes his cheek. “That doesn’t make it any better. I appreciate you trying to help, but I’ll go before I start unloading even more nonsense,” he sniffles and flashes you a sad smile. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome,” you nod gently and watch him leave. Only then do you notice your heart racing in your chest and the wet patch of his tears in your sweater. “So much to keeping boundaries, Y/n,” you scold yourself, rubbing your face tiredly.

Felix closes the door to his room and buries his face in his hands with a soft groan. “What the fuck are you doing?” he whispers and stands still for a moment. What is he doing, sobbing in his daughter’s best friend’s arms? Is he going insane? Felix closes his eyes and tries to forget how comfortable your hug felt, how good you smelled, and how soothing your presence was to him. “Fuck,” he whispers into the emptiness of his room.

One week later

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest as you walk down the hallway, clutching your visitor pass. Your best friend asked you to pick up Felix from work tonight because she had to work late and would then stay at her boyfriend's again. Would he think weirdly of you for it? He's been avoiding you a little after that emotional breakdown a week ago, and you can't blame him. 

You reach Chan's studio and knock gently, letting yourself in. 

“Oh, Y/nnie,” Chan greets you cheerfully. 

“Haven't seen you here in a while,” Minho adds curiously. 

“Yeah, uh, I have to pick up Felix,” you say, and they frown. 

“I thought-”

“No, she's working late and staying at her boyfriend's or something like that,” you shrug your shoulders. 

“She asks you to move in so she isn't lonely and leaves all the time,” Minho shakes his head, amused. “Well, at least someone's keeping an eye on Lix, then.”

“Mhm, yeah,” you nod. “Where is he?”

“In the practice room down the hallway. Uh…he's in a shit mood today,” Minho tells you. 

“Define shit mood,” you chuckle. 

“Everything is shit, nothing works, he's useless,” Chan sighs softly and shakes his head. “We tried.”

You sigh heavily and roll your eyes. “Fine, I'll do my best.”

“Good luck,” Chan giggles. 

Only a little later, you open the door to the practice room and slip inside. You frown as you spot Felix stretched out on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. “I swear, Channie, if you're here to tell me another bad joke that's supposed to make me laugh, I'll snap,” he announces. 

You stop next to him and tilt your head at him. “Not Channie,” you say. “What's that supposed to be?” you ask, vaguely waving at his current position. 

“It's my new favorite yoga position called utter depression,” he says dryly and throws you a peace sign. “That's I'm a failure, what's your name?”

“Chan wasn't lying,” you nod slowly. 

“Did Chan call you? Seriously?” he asks, sitting up on his elbows. 

“No. In fact, it was your lovely daughter asking me to come pick you up. She's working late, and then she'll stay over at her boyfriend's.”

“I still can't believe she asked you to move in so she wouldn't be lonely, and now she's barely home,” Felix snorts and groans softly. 

“Mhm, you guys are repeating yourselves, Min said the same thing,” you tell him and gently poke his side with your shoe. “What's going on, Mr. utter depression?” 

“Nothing, as you can see,” he sighs. “I fucked up during practice today. Minho only didn't call me out for all the mistakes because he felt sorry for me at the time,” he tells you. 

“And that led you down the good old road to self-hatred?” you ask, sitting down on the floor next to him. 

“Maybe,” he answers vaguely. 

“Surely,” you correct him. “Lix?” you ask gently, and he turns his head toward you. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No,” he shakes his head as his eyes trace your features. 

“We could take a walk and grab some food on the way. We don't have to talk or anything. It's just for you to clear your head and empty all that garbage you keep up there,” you tell him, tugging a small smile at the corner of his lips. 

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. 

You exchange your goodbyes with Min and Chan, who secretly throw some hearts your way when Felix isn't looking. Idiots. 

-

After that evening, it all got easier again. You didn't talk much that day, but the fresh air, bright lights, and warm food had lightened Felix's mood immensely. Over the following two weeks, you two grew closer, and Felix allowed himself to be more open. With your best friend gone quite frequently, it was often only you and him. 

The more time you spent together, the more you realized how ridiculously perfect Felix was. His beautiful brown eyes, soft features adorned by all those sweet freckles, and blond hair falling around his face made your stomach flip. His sweet smile and even prettier laugh made you feel like winning a trophy every time you were the reason for it. He's so kind and polite that it makes your head spin. 

Felix can't quite stop himself from looking at you whenever you don't notice. The more time you spend, the more he notices how beautiful you are. How caring and gentle. Your smile brightens his days and he can't fully shake the longing to be in your arms again off. He hasn't felt as comfortable around someone in a while, and there's a lingering worry in the back of his head telling him that he really shouldn't allow himself to fall for you. It only gets worse watching you doing the most mundane things and wishing that you wouldn't leave again. 

-

Another two weeks later your best friend announces she'll be abroad for a holiday with her boyfriend for two weeks. Two weeks. It'll only be Felix and you for fourteen days. That thought wasn't helping your anxious heart, trying not to fall for him at all. 

You decided to make the best out of it and forget about your worries. Seeing Felix smile again was all that counted. 

The first morning, Felix tiredly strolls down the hallway from his room and stops in his tracks when he sees you at the stove. A sweet scent lingers in the kitchen, and he realizes you're making pancakes for breakfast. His heart picks up pace, and he takes a deep breath, reminding himself to act normal. “Morning,” he says, not knowing that his even deeper morning voice sends shivers down your spine. 

“Good morning,” you smile at him, bright as ever. He has to look somewhere else to stop himself from blushing. “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes,” you tell him, and he hums softly. 

Felix sits down at the kitchen island and watches you thoughtfully. It's ridiculous how used to your presence he got over the past few weeks. Almost as if he couldn't imagine it any other way anymore. “Do you have any plans for today?” he asks and you shake your head as you put the pancakes on a big plate. 

“Why?” you ask curiously and turn off the stove. 

“Uh, I was thinking about painting her room since she wanted a new color so badly…I was wondering if you'd like to help?” he asks nervously. 

You put down the plate and nod. “Sure, why not?” 

Felix flashes you a sweet smile and thanks you as you hand him a plate with some pancakes. They're so fluffy they almost melt on his tongue, and he has trouble biting back a moan. “Oh, they're amazing,” he tells you and notices the subtle blush settling on your cheeks. 

“Thank you,” you smile almost shyly. 

Seriously, can't you give him a break? 

-

After breakfast, Felix takes a quick shower, and you put on some clothes that could be ruined by the paint. You meet again in your best friend's room, and you smile at how soft Felix looks in a pair of gray sweatpants and a wide sweater. You pull all the furniture away from the walls, covering everything up before Felix shows you how to apply the paint properly. In the beginning, you're both quietly working and it feels peaceful, just focusing on painting for now. Then Felix starts talking, trying to kill the silence. “I signed the divorce papers yesterday,” he says casually, and you need a moment to figure out how to answer. 

“Congratulations?” you chuckle, and he laughs, realizing how out of pocket this has been.

“Sorry, that was pretty random,” he apologizes. 

“No, it's fine. I'm glad you did,” you say, and he glances at you, making you ramble on quickly. “I mean, it's the right thing to do. Did you settle on anything? Does she demand stuff?”

“If she doesn't want my legal team to be less nice about the reason we're getting a divorce than I was, then she won't,” he tells you and sighs softly. “She has the old house, and I don't have to pay her anything. I'm glad when we're done with the whole process,” he admits tiredly. 

“I bet you are,” you nod gently. “You deserve some peace after everything,” you say, and he hums softly, pressing his lips together briefly. “We can stop talking about it,” you assure him gently, and Felix nods thankfully. 

“We need more paint,” he states. 

“Well, we should let this dry anyway for today,” you nod and flash him a gentle smile. “We could go buy some more and then call it a day?”

“Sounds good,” he nods, rubbing his face tiredly, and turns toward you fully now. 

“You've got some paint on your cheek,” you say, and he blindly reaches out to wipe it off. He doesn't quite get it and you step in front of him, reaching out for him. “Let me help,” you say and gently rub your thumb over his cheek, wiping the still fresh paint off. 

Felix freezes in place, staring at you as you do so. He feels like the world stops for a moment but then your soft touch is already gone again. He exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding in and follows you outside. Fucks sake. 

-

You wander through the store next to him and you end up buying some more stuff to decorate the house a little more. Felix's phone rings and you can tell it's Chan by the way his face lights up. He nudges your side after a moment. “You're hungry?”

“I could eat,” you nod.

“Min and Chan ask if we wanna stop by,” he tells you, and you shrug your shoulders. 

“Sure, why not?” 

Only shortly after, you reach their house, and your eyes widen, spotting the two small kittens on the carpet. “Oh, you have new ones?” you ask excitedly and Minho looks at you as if he's going to hit you. 

“Or not?” you ask, chuckling. 

Chan gently pokes his cheek and grins at you. “Yeah, we got them like a week ago,” he nods, and you crouch down as they make their way over. 

“Can I hold them?” you ask, looking at Minho, and his face softens. 

“If they let you,” he nods and tells you to sit down on the floor. 

He picks up the first one and gently hands it over to you, making sure you hold it right. “He's usually very calm, so if you don't move too quickly, you should be fine,” he tells you and sits down, grabbing the second one. “She's a little rascal,” he smirks and gently scratches her head. 

“They're so tiny,” you say, amazed. 

“Here, he loves those,” Chan says, handing you a little treat. 

You hold out your hand for the kitten, and he doesn't waste much time. You giggle at his tiny tongue licking over your palm and beam at Minho excitedly. Chan passes Minho and gently runs his hand through his hair mindlessly. Minho smiles softly and looks up at him so full of love you can't help but wish you'd find someone you shared the same type of deep love with. “Wanna help me set the table, Lix?” he asks, and Felix hums, following him, not after a quick glance in your direction to make sure you're alright. 

Soon after, you're all gathered around the table, and you all thank Minho for cooking. Chan glances at Felix after a while and seems to debate whether he should ask what's going through his head. “Lix?” he asks, and his friend turns toward him. “How are you holding up?”

“I'm fine,” he smiles tiredly, and you know the question starts to bother him by now. 

“You said that from day one,” Minho chuckles and tilts his head at him. 

“No, I am. I signed the papers yesterday and then soon it'll all be over,” he explains. 

“Have you met anyone new?” Minho asks curiously. “I mean, it's been almost two months.”

“Mhm, after ten years of a fake marriage. I still have time, don't you think?” he asks sourly. 

Chan steps in, trying to ease the mood. “We're just worried about you getting lonely, Lix,” he tells him. 

“I'd rather be lonely than that,” he says and rolls his eyes at them. “Not everyone finds the one and lives happily ever after from day one on,” he says, looking at the two of them. 

“That's hardly realistic, nothing was perfect from day one,” Minho shakes his head. 

“Not really, no,” Chan snorts and winks at him. 

“Well, you're not me, so…,” Felix says quietly, and the mood changes. 

“Meaning?” Minho asks patiently, even though you can tell he’d rather punch some sense into him.

Felix puts down his chopsticks and sighs heavily. “I'm way too emotional, I'm too shy to approach anyone or initiate anything further, I mess up stuff constantly and-.”

“Will you stop?” you cut him off, and everyone looks at you as if they're remembering you're still here. “You keep on talking shit about yourself, and you don't even realize you're letting her win.”

“I'm not letting her—” he frowns. Chan is about to speak up, but Minho stops him, resting his hand on his. 

“Yes, you are. She used you for years, and you're still letting her by making it all your fault. As if she had no other choice but to go off and fuck around with whoever she found moderately fuckable,” you say, and he blinks at you, stunned as Chan chokes on his breath. “You're talented at what you do, you're hardworking, and you're one of the most caring people I know. You didn't have to, but you always made me feel at home when I visited your daughter. You haven't done any differently since I moved in, and as long as you aren't talking shit about yourself, you're pretty funny. And-.”

“Y/nnie,” he says softly, and it's the first time he's called you that. “Eat up; it's going to get cold.” 

You quickly shut your mouth, ears burning up as you realize you've just been pretty open in front of Minho and Chan. “Yeah, okay, you better shut up then…respectfully.”

“Message received,” he smiles gently. 

Minho raises his eyebrows and glances at Chan before moving his eyes between the two of you. Chan frowns before his eyes widen, and he squints at him. Minho widens his eyes and puts on a little passive aggressively encouraging smile, signaling him that, yes, he is VERY right about this. 

“You can stop the eye fuckery over there, I'll get sick,” Felix calls them out, and you frown softly at Minho's mischievous grin. 

“Y/n, what about you?” Minho asks curiously. 

“You're playing cupid as a side business, or what is this?” you ask right back. 

“Simply interested,” he gives back. 

“I'm single if you must know so badly, and no, my self-esteem isn't drowning as much as Lix’s,” you say, and Felix pokes your side, protesting softly. 

Chan watches you quietly before glancing at his husband and humming softly. Minho simply smirks. 

Later, when it's time to leave, you hold your hand out for Felix, and he tilts his head at you questioningly. “Keys, please,” you smile. 

“Huh?” he asks, amused. 

“You had two drinks, I didn't have any, and I'm driving,” you tell him, stretching your hand out once more. 

“Listen to her, Yongbokie,” Minho tells him, and Felix gives in and hands you the keys. 

-

“That was really sweet,” Felix says, almost too quiet to hear. 

“The kittens?” you giggle. 

“Mhm, yeah, they too,” he nods and glances over at you. “I meant what you said…I uh... thanks.”

“Oh,” you nod and feel your heart warming at the softness in his eyes. “I meant it.”

“I know,” he whispers and can barely meet your eyes. 

“You should give yourself more credit. Try seeing yourself through the eyes of the people you mean something to from time to time,” you say, parking the car in front of the house. 

Felix looks at you, a little stunned. “I mean something to you?” he asks softly. 

“Well, of course you do, Lixie,” you smile and lean over, brushing his hair back for him. 

“Yeah?” he asks, eyes traveling down to your lips before he can fight it. 

“Mhm,” you hum softly and search his eyes. Suddenly, you move forward and your lips meet in a soft kiss that has him melting in his seat. He reaches up to bury his hand into your hair and-.

“Felix? Felix, wake up,” you say gently. 

“Huh?” he asks confused. 

“Wake up, Lix, come on,” you say softly, daring to brush a loose strand from his face. “Come on, let's get you upstairs.”

Felix blinks at you drowsily and needs a moment to realize he's been dreaming—dreaming of kissing you. His face burns up red with embarrassment as your gentle eyes meet his, and he shoots out of his seat. “Yeah, sorry,” he stammers, and you watch him a little confused. 

“You're okay?” you ask, closing the door for him.

“Sure, why wouldn't I be?” he asks, laughing nervously. Don't look at the lips. Don't. 

“Man, you're weird when you get woken up,” you shake your head and unlock the front door, letting him in. Felix stumbles taking off his shoes, making you laugh. “Is alcohol having such an effect on you?”

“Mhm, yeah,” he lies, spotting his lifeline. 

“Well, let's get you to bed then,” you say and gently pat his back, shoving him inside. 

“I'll make it on my own, thank you,” he quickly says and wishes you a good night. He throws himself face forward onto his bed and groans into his blanket. “Fuck, no, Lix, you can't.” He turns onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, brushing his fingers over his lips. Groaning softly, he fumbles for his phone; he needs some clarity now. 

“It's late, what the fuck, mate?”

“Jisungie, I fucked up,” Felix whines softly. 

“Oh, please don't tell me you're drunk,” Jisung sighs softly. “Do I have to pick you up somewhere?”

“No,” he quickly assures him. “I just…there's this certain someone I can't stop thinking about, and…Ji, it's wrong!”

“I don't like the sound of this,” he states calmly. “Go on.”

And Felix does, spilling all his hurt, feelings of emptiness, and worthlessness. Telling him how you mend his heart, fill his entire being with happiness, and make him feel loveable. He confesses how he can't stop thinking about you, worrying how messed up this could get. 

Jisung lets him ramble on and nods gently once he's done. “That's fucked up, mate.”

“I know,” he whispers. 

“No, I don't think you know how bad that bitch fucked you up,” Jisung says, and Felix is too stunned to speak for a second. “Fucks sake, Lix! Where's my pretty boy getting all the girls, huh? When did you get all shy and scared? Did she fuck up your self-esteem that badly?”

“Ji, you're missing the point here,” he insists. “Everyone would think I'm using her, she's eight years younger. They'll make her a victim and-.”

“Lix,” he cuts him off firmly. “I'm that victim you're describing here, you do know that, right? My hubby is ten years older, Hyune’s wife is six years younger, and no one gives a fuck,” he tells him. “The thing you really can't take is the fact that she's your daughter's best friend.”

“That surely doesn't help,” he groans. 

“Well, technically-.”

“She's my daughter, you can try and twist this how you want,” he shakes his head. “And she'll hate me if I act upon my feelings for Y/n.”

“All she wanted was for you to be happy. Why not with Y/nnie?” he asks gently. “Listen, buddy, you gotta figure out what you really want and then act accordingly. Stop sending her signals if you don't want this to evolve into something more.”

“I know,” he sighs softly. Fuck. 

-

“Can you get the eggs?” you ask him as you pour some sugar into a bowl, weighing its content as you do. 

“Sure,” Felix nods and his hand rests on your lower back for a brief moment, notifying you of him standing behind you to stop you from bumping into him. 

You swallow softly at the lingering touch, and it's already gone again before you can't think much of it. Felix got home from the studio about an hour ago, and you two decided to surprise your best friend with a cake for her birthday tomorrow. At least she had planned to come back again for it. After quickly buying the ingredients, you two got busy in the kitchen. He's unusually clumsy, your hands brushed against each other four times already since you've started and you already bumped heads, both wanting to grab something off the floor he dropped. The brief touches and his soft eyes combined with that shy smile are slowly driving you insane. 

Once you're all done you put it in the oven and set a timer, cleaning up the kitchen for now. You'll still need a few things for the icing later but you get rid of most of the mess for now. After loading the dishwasher, the 25 minutes are over, and Felix carefully takes it out. You leave it there to cool and throw yourself on the sofa. 

Felix joins you and turns on the TV, putting on the next episode of the series you've recently started watching together. After a while, your head slowly drops onto his shoulder and it takes him a moment to realize you fell asleep. He cautiously wraps his arm around you to make you more comfortable and lets you rest against his chest. He tries not to think too much of it and chews on his lower lip nervously as he tries to pay attention to the screen. 

As much as he tries to fight it, he's exhausted from their intense practice today, and his eyes grow heavier with every minute. It doesn't take long and he falls asleep as well, getting more comfortable and dragging you down with him in his sleep. 

You wake up in his arms, your head resting on his chest. Your eyes widen in shock, and you fight the urge to jump up and get as far away from him as possible. You barely dare to lift your head. Glancing down at him, your heart skips a beat at how soft and vulnerable he looks in his sleep. His chest is slowly rising and falling, his hair hangs into his face and he looks so soft it makes you want to squish his cheeks. You admire the beautiful freckles painting his face as the fading sun caresses his golden skin. Gosh, he's pretty. 

He moves in his sleep, tightening his grip around you and rolling you both onto your sides. Burying his face in your neck, he lets out a content sigh and pulls you in close. You bite your lip and curse yourself for wanting this so badly. You should really wake him up…but you couldn't. Not when he had a long day and finally got some rest. Not when he looked this content and peaceful. You couldn't. 

You timidly rest your chin on his fluffy hair and wait for a moment, but he doesn't seem to mind. Carefully, you fondle his back and rest your hand between his shoulder blades. He doesn't stir one bit, and you decide to try sleeping some more as well. 

-

You wake up again when he stretches in your arms, pulling back with a soft groan. Felix squints at you drowsily before he slowly picks up on your current situation. A blush creeps up his neck and colors his cheeks and ears. He pulls away and rolls onto his back with a soft sound, rubbing his face tiredly. “Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“For what?” you ask gently. 

“Uh…this,” he awkwardly gestures between the two of you. “I uh…I tend to get cuddly when I fall asleep. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or-.”

“You didn't,” you say firmly, and he slowly glances at you. 

“No?” he asks quietly. 

“Not at all,” you assure him, and he hums gently in response. “You seemed like you needed it, so I let you sleep a little longer.”

“Oh,” he nods dumbly and searches your eyes timidly. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” you nod and smile at him. “I think we can finish the cake by now.”

“Probably,” he laughs and sits up. 

The pair of you soon gets busy in the kitchen again and Felix turns on the mixer to finish the icing for the cake. It's a little too fast, and some of it lands on his sweater. “Fucks sake,” he curses softly before slowing it down. 

You laugh at him, and he turns to you, raising his eyebrows. “Oh, you got some on your face,” you giggle and step in front of him. You cup his face gently with one hand, rubbing your other thumb across the icing on his forehead. “Keep still, Lixie,” you say and don't quite notice his lips parting at the new nickname. You move further down, wiping the bits on his cheek off, and only then you meet his eyes. They're wide and filled with thousands of questions and insecurities. “You're okay?” you ask worriedly. 

Felix blinks at you before very slowly shaking his head. “I'm not okay,” he says, and you turn off the mixer, bathing the room in silence. 

“What's wrong?” you ask and want to pull your hand off his face, but his hand wraps around your wrist keeping you there. 

“I…,” he trails off, sinking deeper into your eyes, and you can see the sudden longing in them. It's pure and innocent, making you all dizzy the longer you look at him. “You're driving me nuts,” he confesses. 

“Breathe,” you tell him before experimentally brushing your thumb over his lips. He exhales shuddery, eyes fluttering close at your touch. “Can I kiss you?” you ask. 

“What?” he squeaks, eyes snapping back open. 

“You heard me,” you say and tilt your head at him. “Can I?” Felix gulps before nodding timidly. You close the distance between the two of you, and your lips brush against his. A soft, quiet sound escapes him and then you're cupping his face and kissing him. Felix melts into the kiss, body searching yours as he grips your waist and stumbles a little, shoving you against the kitchen counter. He pulls back only to catch his breath and presses his forehead against yours. “You're okay?” you ask again. This time, he nods. 

“Yeah,” he whispers with a soft smile. “I'm okay...”

PART TWO

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @kailee08 @mal-lunar-28 @lilmisssona @aaa-sia @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @michelle4eve @lixie-phoria @xxstrayland @kibs-and-bits @mellhwang @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @palindrome969 @harshaaaaa

[skygemspeaks]

okay let's do this again, for the last time this season, and what a way to end it!

i like that nami got to be included in the walk to arlong park, it was really nice!

the banter between zoro and sanji is already quite funny. i like that sanji is just earnestly trying to be part of the crew, but zoro's being a little bit bitchy because he feels like his place as the first mate is being threatened. later on in the episode when sanji starts calling out his move names, and zoro makes fun of him for it...how much do you wanna bet that the reason zoro starts calling out his attack names because his thought process is like "oh no, the shitty cook is also calling out his attack names what if luffy starts liking him better than me because i don't do it?"

as someone with dental trauma, seeing arlong's teeth fall out one by one was horrifying, thank you very much. it was well done

the fights in this arc were well choreographed, and i'm actually really happy that they all finished by around halfway through the episode because then we got a good amount of time to wrap everything up

it was really sweet when nami went running up to tackle usopp and zoro in a hug. i did feel a bit bad for sanji, but ehh it's understandable. she's been sailing with usopp and zoro for a while now! those are her boys!!!! and she didn't think she'd ever be able to sail with them again! she barely even knows sanji at this point

the scene after the tower comes crashing down and the straw hats are all waiting to see if luffy made it is great. nami looks like her whole world is ending again, because first she lost her mother, and now she might have lost her captain. and then everyone's relief when they see luffy come out is palpable! sanji doesn't even try to hide his relief! he's become so emotionally invested in this crew already and he's known them for just a few days

sanji's smugness when zoro comes back for seconds was cute, and i love their banter afterwards!

koby and helmeppo standing up to garp when they disagree with his orders was a good scene, and i liked their conversation about it afterwards at the end of the episode. each marine's personal code of justice is a big theme in the anime, and i like that they establish it here, and that it's what impresses garp enough to make him want to train them personally

we finally got the luffy vs garp confrontation! it was a good way to see just how small luffy is in the grand scheme of things, that he wasn't able to hurt garp at all. when luffy starts laughing and garp drops him and starts laughing as well, it was a good tension break. i really really wish that we got at least one grandpa hug before garp left...i know it never happened in the manga, but i crave that grandfatherly affection for luffy. but i know neither of these two idiots are like that. ace better fucking hug luffy at least once next season i s2g.

when nami is talking to bellemere's grave, and nojiko shows up wearing bellemere's shirt.....🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

the final conversation with luffy and koby was adorable! i loved the hug! also, i really like that koby was the first one to show luffy his bounty. a great way of coming full circle to the beginning of the season when he's standing next to luffy, looking at the notice board in shells town and luffy asks where his face is

the scenes where people see luffy's bounty!!!! makino grinning in pride!! kaya already looking healthier without kuro's poison! Zeff posting luffy's poster on the employee of the month board!!!!!!!! alvida and buggy meeting!!!! (if they make alvida lose weight or recast her next season i'm gonna kill someone)

helmeppo finally admitted that koby was his friend!!!! their little fistbump!! i've really come to like koby over the course of this season, and it's been great seeing his character arc

the mihawk and shanks conversation was great! shanks making jokes about his missing arm was hilarious, i love how irreverent he is

the redhair pirates are all SO proud when they see luffy's poster!!! and shanks' big, goofy, proud grin when as he stares at the poster just made my heart melt.

merry finally gets to fly the straw hat jolly roger again, i'm so happy for her!! luffy's absolute uncontainable joy at the sight of it, like he can't believe his eyes, was absolutely perfect!

the cast-off ceremony was fantastic! i really like the effect they did where their younger selves spoke in the voices of their older selves.

i could be wrong, but i think i heard we are in that last scene as they sailed off? which, amazing!

FUCK YEAH THAT LAST SHOT OF SMOKER!!! i can't wait to see more of him next season!!!

[fallstaticexit]

The cool down period after spending almost 10 hours at the theme park sometimes feel more draining than the actual activity. Orion may as well come clean about her problems with Noa and Selene probably should see someone's therapist- wait. Where's Adie?

prev / next

Selene: So, what’s really going on with you and Noa? And don’t give me that “happy country life” whatever you gave mom and dad either.

Orion: What are you talking about?

Selene: You said it yourself. We’re twins. We’re connected at the brain. I get you want to seem like you got it all together to them, but you can be you around me.

Orion: I- [sighs] Yeah...

Orion: I don’t know.. Noa has all this trauma from his childhood that he just...sits on. I think he’s burying himself in this restaurant to avoid dealing with it. Or avoid dealing with me?

Selene: What do you mean deal with you?

Orion: Sometimes I feel like I want too much from him. That I’m making things harder for him because I want- more. I want what our parents have.

Selene: [laughs dryly] Wow, we’re a real piece of work, huh? How did we have the best example of what real love looks like but end up with such shitty relationships problems?

Orion: Speaking of, what are you going to do about Zoey?

Selene: Yeah...I don’t know. She hates my guts. She should. I fucked up.

Orion: Do you want to try and fix things?v

Selene: I don’t know if I can. She’s blocked my number. She sold the camper and she’s moving back in with her parents. I don’t even know what to say to her. When she looks at me, it’s like she doesn’t recognize me.

Orion: Maybe you can come stay with us until you figure things out? I know Adie would love that. I would too, Selene.

Selene: Thanks Ri, but I don’t think I could survive being so far from the ocean. Best therapy around is riding the waves.

Orion: I know what you mean but you should probably also go to actual therapy... Wait-

Orion: Where’s Adie?

Selene: What? She was with...oh, no..

Orion: Oh god...w-where’s my daughter?

Everyone calls out for Adie - Wasn’t she with you?? - She was! She was right here!! - Adie, where are you!!

[serfergs]

Why I’m having the most fun with DFF (spoiler free)

I know a lot of people probably dropped DFF after episode 2 or 3 so I feel compelled to write about how much I’m enjoying it. I am not typically a horror/slasher girlie (much to my partner’s chagrin 😬), but I found the characters mysterious enough to hold out for the story and romantic elements, plus I can tell the actors are having a lot of fun with the slasher parts so it makes it more enjoyable for me personally. And I think the show is doing a great job rewarding the audience for our patience considering it was marketed as a BL.

The thing that keeps me coming back is the slow reveal of the backstory and the little tickling of my brain when I think about how the different characters are complicit in Non's suffering and why he or those that care about him would want revenge. I also think this show stands out because it has just enough of a BL subplot to pull me in and then keep me with all the poor decisions of these very flawed characters.

Everyone watching can probably attest to how much we as an audience are loving hating these characters. All of these boys are written with distinct personalities and motives in both being a part of this "friend" group and contributing to the fate of our main boy Non. Even Non is not without his flaws. I think Barcode is doing a great job embodying a queer high school boy living in poverty, struggling with his mental health, and choosing to tolerate intense bullying and manipulation in the slight hopes he'll eventually be accepted and welcomed in this shitty boy group. Meanwhile all the characters within the group are revealing so much about their priorities and how they push down a lot of their feelings and convictions for the sake of not stirring the pot (aka Por). I find Tee and Jin especially compelling considering Tee's parallels to Non with feeling trapped in poverty and debt and Jin's parallels to Non with being so desperate to be accepted and how that ties in to their queer identities.

There's also so much going on with classism, coercion, and police corruption which are elements and themes that recent BL have attempted to tackle and in a lot of ways I think DFF is doing a much better job in both narrative integration and execution. All this being said, I also think it's important to remember this is only Be On Cloud's second BL and I think they're hitting it out of the park in terms of pushing the genre forward and challenging some of the tired settings and tropes still being shoved down our throats with repetitive, formulaic, and often rushed and incoherent narratives (I'm looking at you GMMTV). So, if you gave up early on, I encourage you to give it another try. Even if you gotta 2x speed or completely skip some of the more gruesome scenes. If for no other reason than to acknowledge and give credit to BOC for progressing our beloved genre forward.

TLDR;

DFF is out here delivering a really complex, nuanced, and satisfying narrative with queer characters and if you gave up early I implore you to pick it back up even if you gotta skip some of the slasher scenes. I promise it's worth it!

[qiutls]

TNGDH 004

Evening came, and at the study of the Grade Duke of Blake, Cashew Nut was having a theme park party. If we tone it down a little, you could call in a hamster feast.

Okay! All right! Is there anyone else who wants to get on the Ferris wheel? We'll bring you up to the top in a blink of an eye. Get on now and get a view of the Northern Grand Duke's office!

This kind of opportunity will not come twice. At the top we can also play disco music... Oh wait a bit, isn't this wheel a lot more like disco pang pang rather than a Ferris wheel? Anyway, hurry and come quickly, to Cashew Nut Land, the land of fantasy.

I shook my head in silence and turned the wheel by hand.

Rattle. Rattle.

The wheel which was too heavy to spin at first began to roll quickly once it was accelerated. It seems you can turn it with just your hands. No, these hands can also be called as feet. My front feet.

[ㄟ(˘ o ˘)ノ] shrug emoji

...If I spin it by hand... Isn't it also called rolling the wheel? basically the term used for the quest was the same as rolling the wheel, the quest means to run as a hamster to make the wheel turn, but Soohyun is trying to roll the wheel with just his hands

No, look at this small and fragile limbs. You unscrupulous system. I'm telling you, if I run with my feet, I'll die.

Hey, excuse me. Mr. System.

Are you listening, you punk?

[ 0003/1000 ]

I really can't complete the mission like this?

[ It's a system without conscience!ꉂꉂ(ᵔᗜᵔ*) ]

Ah...

I began to spin the wheel quickly in order to break it. Yet my heart didn't feel any better even when I heard a rattling sound of something breaking. 

This damn Ferris wheel. No, this hamster wheel. How long would I have to run on this. Can't you just pretend to not know and be a little bit more tolerant.

No, it's Kyle's fault. Who puts a wheel like this without even considering the size of his pet hamster? You can't even find a guinea pig that would enjoy this size of a wheel!

This shitty life! Damn it!

I was busy venting my anger when all of a sudden, the door opened without a knock. Of course, it was Kyle, the owner of the estate.

No, what kind of estate is this? Is it possible to oversee all of it with just a quick turn. It didn't even take him a day...

I got caught... Come to think of it, wasn't I supposed to be taking a nap.

Kyle Jane Minehardt walked toward the hamster house with great force. He walked confidently enough to be called the leader of the North.

What about his outfit? Thick capes to keep out the icy wind, armor made out of both iron and leather and boots that come up to below the knees to help you tread the snow.

A handsome man who seems like he can't be stopped by anything, his whole being is marred by winter.

"Cashew Nut?" He called me in a puzzled voice. 

I would be confused as well, if the first thing I see when I come back is the hamster wheel spinning all alone and the hamster went missing. Of course, I didn't actually vanish, I just went to the back to take a breather.

"I can see your butt."

​No wonder the house seemed a little small. I came out of my hiding place with an awkward expression.

"I want to spend time with you right away, but...​ Unfortunately, there are many documents to check today so it's a little difficult."

― Eek [ No thanks! ]

"That's right, I'm sad too."

― Eeek [ No! I'm not sad. ]

Feeling sad my ass! I hope through this personal time, you are able to reform your inner self. Let's stop kissing and singing silly praises, okay?

Kyle looked as if he wanted to take me to his hand and kiss me. However, it seemed as if what he said about being busy was not a lie. He just looked at me with a longing gaze, and soon sighed and sat down in front of his desk.

That's right, I doubt you were given the title of a Great Duke just because you were good at using your sword.

If it were that way, the throne would've been handed through a duel and not as a hereditary succession. Whether you like it or not, you have to endure the boring paperwork for the betterment of the estate. It's the same whether it's here or it's back in my world, it's hard to make ends meet in both places.

Still, you're pretty cool... So professional

​I sat between the sawdust and watched Kyle.

He was diligently writing something on a roll of parchment paper. I didn't know how his exact handwriting looked like because I couldn't see it from here, but I think it would be very neat.

He went to work in serious manner as if he was completely oblivious to my existence.

Even a guy with just a month left to live works so hard.

​Well, I guess, you never really know when your life's about to end. I shook my knee and stood up. Somehow, I felt like I had to do something.

...Of course, I'm not doing this just because I finished napping and there was nothing else to do.

That's right, if you have to run a thousand rounds anyways, just finish it earlier. What kind of humans are we? Koreans! Hurry up! the last line is a Korean slogan, back then foreigners thought Koreans were always in a hurry and Koreans used that as their slogan

I was determined to carry out a "fast-paced operation."  How am I supposed to complete it fast? As a developer, the answer to completing things quickly is... Do it overnight.

A developer is a creature that's used to working overnight. Let's burn our bodies like we're in Pangyo's lighthouse. Pangyo's lighthouse is a term used in KR, it symbolizes how offices never turn off their lights because of overtime shifts

[ I think that's a good idea! (*´╰╯`๓) ]

Don't laugh. I don't like it.

[ (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞ ]

I got on the wheel with a deep sigh. Then using all my physical strength, I ran on the huge Ferris wheel with my four feet.

I've already become a dog after drinking so much, and now for the first time I've become a hamster spinning a wheel... It's a relief that both have four legs. the first line is a KR saying, that if you drink too much, you become unruly like a dog

Clatter.

After a few laps, I finally got a sense on how to efficiently run.

I got the feeling while running around earlier, it was more convenient to just leave your body to the flow and run at moderate speed than to speed up at the beginning and fail to keep up. But the wheel was heavier than I thought, so it was really hard to keep roll it with your feet.

Rattle. Clack. Clatter. Splat... Oh... I fell down. I fell flat on my face. I took a quick glance at Kyle.

You didn't see it right?

Yeah, I don't think he saw it. Kyle was still reading the report with a serious look on his face. I don't know if he's that good at concentrating or if he was just indifferent towards me.

"...I think I'm done."

A few hours passed just like that. Kyle massaged his stiff neck and stretched it side to side. At the same time, I also smelled an unusual scent from my mouth. It was time to rest, I didn't want to die of overwork. search keto diet bad breath if you wanna know more about it

[ 0213/1000 ]

That's right, after resting a bit, that guy will go back to his bedroom, and I'll be alone till morning.

Rattle.

The ceiling of the hamster house was opened. 

Whatever, do as you please. You'll put me down anyways and go to bed after saying some silly comments. Then I'll do my best and run for a thousand laps, turn into a human, set aside my life as a hamster and receive the next quest.

It was the perfect plan, assuming I can ride 800 more laps just like earlier.

"Well, let's take this out."

...Huh, w-wait a minute!

​Hey! Don't take my wheel.

I grabbed the wheel reflexively and hung on it. What kind of wheel is this? Why are you taking it with you?! Why are you taking it all of a sudden, you didn't even care when I fell from it earlier!

I put some more strength on my small paws hanging from the wheel. Even though Kyle changed directions while pulling up the wheel, I snuggly hung on it. However, my rebellion didn't last for long, he carefully grabbed me with his other hand and separated me from the wheel. 

― Squeak! Squeak! [ Hey! You bad guy! ] "I know you liked it, but no more, Cashew Nut. I'm worried that your knee joints would get damaged."

― Squeak! [ Is this your first time seeing a hamster spin a wheel?!  ]

"Yes, yes. You must be sad, but it's all for your health. Don't be too unhappy."

Kyle left the wheel far away and gave me a kiss on the belly. I turned and slapped him with my feet on the face and rushed to the system.

Hey! Honestly, shouldn't this quest be invalid, how am I going to complete it without a wheel!

[ Let's become an active hamster! (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ]

I clenched my fist again, feeling my insides boil. If only I could see the system in front of me, I would have hit its head.

What? An active hamster? The kind of hamster that gets caught by the Northern Grand Duke and gets nonstop kisses?

If you want that kind of hamster, then you transmigrate! To be honest, even if I had transmigrated to Serena's body instead of here, my fate would be better than now. Even though she goes through many ups and downs, it isn't as frustrating as being a beast who cannot even speak.

My human rights. Give me back my human rights, this damn world!

"Anyways, you must be hungry. You've rolled the wheel so much, you must be famished."

Now he thinks I'm grumpy because of mere hunger. Once I stepped on the sawdust, I huffed and forced myself as close to the corner as possible.

Kyle picked something up from the drawer on this table and soon he hang the macadamia above me.

"You can eat it."

​He spoke so gently, if people overheard, they would have thought he was speaking to a lover.

I grabbed Kyle's fingers with my small hands and bit it, that's right i bit his finger and not the macadamia.

Then a system window popped up in front of me.

[ More than anything, I'm not a hamster, but a human. I don't do barbaric things like biting. ]

That's what I said to the system.

Yeah, there was a time like that. But Bae Soohyun died yesterday. I am Bae Soohyun who was born anew. Now this Bae Soohyun bites people. Meat is better than macadamia.

And isn't this just what people call karma? If you don't want to be bitten, don't do something that would get you bitten!

"Is your tooth itchy?"

Contrary to the pain I expected, Kyle was very calm. He even lifted me from the butt and began to look at me with worried eyes.

Hey! What are you looking at?

Don't look! Don't look at my butt as well!

Give me back my wheel!

"Behave and play well."

After that he put me back into the house and went back to his bedroom. Clack. The lights in the study went out, and it became silent in an instant.

I sat down on the sawdust and fell back to the ground. 

My wheel...

​Really, what a lucky day...

novel ⠀✿⠀ next

[death-himself]

EPISODE 5 THOUGHTS LETS GO

this series just keeps getting better and better istg

(also I think the only spoilers for non-book readers are at the very end so feel free to read)

the switch to annabeth seeing the fates after thinking percy might've died is INCREDIBLE, I love that change. the fates always seemed a bit out of place in the book so it's nice to see them actually add something to the plot

percy acts kinda different after climbing out of the river, which makes sense, but it's weird seeing him kinda happier and more hopeful

was i the only one who thought that percabeth hug kinda paralleled percy and sally's hug in the first episode? maybe it was just one of them being soaking wet and the other being dry

them hiding when ares comes by because they're hiding from the police is funny

also them popping their heads up to talk to him was adorable

"gimme a second, I'm starting a fight on twitter" CRYING

not too big of a fan of gabe's portrayal in this episode, i feel like they should've kept in how quickly he moved onto another woman to up his shittiness in a disney-safe way

that "i really-we really loved that car" was funny tho, and does make him a bit shittier, so I'll give him that. the fake crying could have been more clearly fake, but that's probably just me being bad at reading emotions

when i saw the clip of grover having to stay behind i didn't really like that change, but now watching the episode i really like it. i loved the grover-ares interaction this episode

i love the whole theme park being made by hephaestus, idk why there's something really cool about that

also i really wanna go there i don't even really like amusement parks but that place looked cool as hell

annabeth getting distracted by how cool the mechanics are she's so adorable i love her so much

the explanation of celestial bronze felt a bit random but they needed to include it somewhere so I'm fine with it

what did ares mean when he said protestor?? there were protestors at the solstice?? what does that mean??

grover hyping ares up and getting on his good side to get information out of him loved that

BABY DON'T HURT ME PLAYING ON THE TUNNEL OF LOVE PLSSS

the tunnel of love showing the story of hephaestus's life is so funny to me, like damn ares and aphrodite went on the ride showing the sad life of the guy aphrodite's cheating on??

like that ride was definitely made with revenge on aphrodite in mind that's funny

"she was trying to keep me away from you guys" that adds something to someone's character and i love that. sally recognizing how terrible the gods are and never wanting percy to have to deal with that

also percy looking to annabeth when he said that. like he knows that she's also a part of this awful cycle of abuse, which adds even more to her rejecting that cycle later in the episode

in terms of casting hephaestus is my second favorite of the olympians aside from dionysus, purely because i've loved his outfit from the moment we got that first picture of him, so this episode is exciting for me

including the chair hephaestus built for hera, idk why but i love that so much. could go into how the gods traumatized hephaestus but i think the episode implies that enough

"was [athena] always like that?" i was expecting them to go into how athena might have also been traumatized by zeus but nope it just turned into a shit-on-athena round, which was objectively better

"if she's so smart explain the owl" i loved this conversation it's so fuckin funny

"and i (no owl) am not?!" they're making me love ares fuck

i know there's a reason behind it, but the back-to-back episodes of percy supposedly dying and sacrificing himself for annabeth felt a bit much. i feel like there should've been a bit more room between those, but that's just my opinion (i don't really know what they could've done instead that'd be better)

I DIDN'T EVEN CATCH THE FIRST SEAWEED BRAIN MY FIRST WATCH WAIT HOLD UP

"this isn't the arch seaweed brain, you aren't pushing me into the stairwell again" "yes i am" STOP I LOVE THEM

"you're better at this than me. you just are" CRYING STOP

i can already imagine the edits those are gonna break me

percy getting incased in gold looked so damn cool it felt so mechanical

annabeth not even going for the shield and immediately trying to get percy out

ngl i was fully expecting annabeth to be able to do it, i didn't even doubt her getting him out herself, so i was kinda thrown off by hephaestus showing up

annabeth and hephaestus's whole conversation was just incredible

"maybe i was that way once. but i don't wanna be that way anymore. i won't be like all of you" i can see the edits

"some of us don't like being that way either" i just love hephaestus i love how this episode implies that some of the gods are victims of the cycle of abuse too

the inside of the zoo truck looks waayyy more cramped than i was imagining it all these years

spoilers for people who haven't read the book past this point

grover knowing who the thief is?? he can't know who it actually is, that'd spoil the entire plot-twist, but then who would it be?? luke and clarisse are literally the only named campers not on the quest so far, so unless ares claimed his own daughter stole the bolt, there's no one else that would be a satisfying red herring

i trust this show to not give away luke being the thief until the last episode, so now I'm just very curious what grover's gonna say

i loved this episode so much, my only concern is they haven't mentioned the whole "gods don't have DNA thing" yet, and considering that they really leaned into the family dynamic thing, it's a bit concerning

like please, for the sake of the new fans and their percanny or smartwater, please tell them percy and annabeth aren't really related it's starting to get weird

[idolatrybarbie]

main masterlist | series masterlist | read on ao3

pairings: francisco "frankie" morales x f!reader, marcus pike & f!reader

word count: 5.4k

rating & summary: mature - 18+ only! | Francisco didn’t seem to like you very much. Maybe it was the direct approach you took—not everybody loves being confronted with allegations of terrorism. Or maybe it’s just you.

tags: angst, dark themes, the United States government comes with its own warning, emotional abuse, toxic friendship dynamics, misogyny, grief, discussed past violence.

You wake in a pool of your own sweat. The alarm clock next to you says it’s two o’clock in the morning despite unruly sun shining in through the curtains. Someone has taken a power drill to the soft spot between your temple and left ear. Your skull throbs, throat dry as bone. It takes a moment, cheek squished into the pillow, for you to remember where you are. The blackout curtains of your shoe box apartment would never let the sun in to wake you; hell, there is no sun in New York in the first place.

The memories come in an quick onslaught. Brief flashes of the past two days flit through your mind: D.C. and the White House. Marcus’ intern. All of those flight logs. The shitty little town of Lubbock, Texas.

Looking for a sign? This is it!

Everything clicks. Your curtains wouldn’t dare let a sliver of UV rays pass through the glass of any window, but these aren’t your curtains. This isn’t your apartment and this is not New York. This is a motel—another one—in the unincorporated township of Posey. The Palm Tree Lodge, or something to that affect. Dirty, cheap. You’d managed to haggle the front desk manager into letting you book per night instead of their usual by the hour.

You could go home. Francisco Morales made it clear that he does not want to speak to you. You should go home. Tuck tail and drive to your parents’ place, confess your sins and have them console or confront you. You should call Marcus and tell him you’ve failed. 

Ultimately, you don’t do any of these things. After a long shower, you get in the two-hundred-dollar-a-day truck you’re renting and drive back to where you know Morales lives. It’s faster from the motel than the airport. Pushing the engine and speeding down back roads, you make the drive in twenty minutes. When you pull up to the trailer again, you realize that he’s not there. The truck with the half-crumpled grill isn’t parked out back. No one answers the door when you knock, no signs of life past the old blinds covering every window. Francisco is gone—for the day or forever, you don’t know.

You should be in a cushy Washington hotel room paid for by the company card, writing up story notes to send back to the Post this afternoon. Really, you should be anywhere but here. And yet here you are. You decide, plopping your ass down on the shaded steps up to the trailer’s door, that here is where you’ll stay. He’ll either come back or he won’t. For this, you’ve got the time to wait.

Francisco didn’t seem to like you very much. Maybe it was the direct approach you took—not everybody loves being confronted with allegations of terrorism. Or maybe it’s just you.

Begrudgingly, Mr. Morales let you in.

“What do you think you’re doing, showing up here?” he’d asked.

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Trying to help you. If you’d just let me explain.”

“I’m gonna need you to explain how you found me in the first place,” Francisco said.

“Mr. Morales, I understand that you want your privacy—”

“I don’t think you do. If you did, you wouldn’t show up here talking about… What? Extradition? The U.S. government? All this bullshit?”

“Respectfully sir, none of this is bullshit,” you said. “This is very real. This is serious.”

“If the government wants to come arrest me, they can do it themselves. They don’t have to hire some hussy to lure me out first,” he said.

“Excuse me? Is that what you think this is?” you asked.

“Tell me you’re not wearing a wire,” Francisco said.

“I’m not, Mr. Morales. I came here to help you, if you would listen to me. For the third time.”

He remains standing near the door, ready to see you out. He doesn’t believe you.

“Oh for fuck’s sake—” You started picking at the buttons along the front of your shirt. Sleeves rolled to the elbow, you huffed as the fabric fell open, revealing skin as you went. Clavicle, chest, then bra…but no wire to be seen.

Francisco stared at you, brain seemingly catching up with his eyes. You rolled yours, up to the ceiling and back down again.

“You believe me now?” you asked.

He only shook his head. “No.”

Maybe it’s a bit of both.

The weather is boiling once again. The shade that covers two-thirds of your body does nothing to mitigate the humidity. The collar of your shirt sticks to your skin, the grey fabric damp with sweat. It’s comfortable, the oldest item of clothing you still own. Your first big girl purchase after moving out of the house. The Rice University crest has faded with washing and time, the bottom hem threadbare, but you hold onto it. The shirt has too many memories attached to throw it away.

Rice is where you met Marcus. After declining offers from Northwestern and Duke, you showed up on campus totally lost. You thought staying in-state would minimize the lifestyle whiplash, but Houston was a world away from the town you once called home. Marcus had found you, kind of like finding a box of puppies abandoned in the rain. He befriended you and showed you the ropes of adulthood, already a junior in your freshman year.

When he moved three hours away to pursue law at Baylor, your world changed. Marcus said he would visit as much as possible, making good on the promise. Every long weekend, stat holiday, and sometimes just because, his ‘93 Honda Accord would pull up outside your pack rat apartment. He guided you when your parents couldn’t, never having gone to college themselves. He was there when no one else was. When he didn’t have to be. You’ve owed him a lot longer than you realized.

That’s where the unending trust in your relationship comes from. Marcus is good. He’s always had you. Why would that change now?

Something has changed, though. You can feel it. Could feel it on the phone that first time months ago, his voice a little too smooth; lines rehearsed.

Time goes hand-in-hand with change. It’s no shock that Marcus is a little different than you remember. But between the cold shoulder and the subtle manipulation, it doesn’t sit quite right. You’ve started waiting for the other shoe to drop—something you’ve never felt in this friendship before. Locked in a staring contest, the two of you seem to be waiting each other out.

You hope you’re wrong. You hope you blink first. You’re scared of what you will see if you don’t.

The burst of an exhaust pipe rips you from sun-addled daydreams. Eyes open, you watch as a familiar blue pickup pulls in next to yours. Francisco Morales flies out of the vehicle, stalking over. You stand from your place in front of his trailer.

“The hell do you think you’re doing here?” he asks, pointing a finger in front of your face.

“Sunbathing,” you deadpan. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“I told you to get lost.” He makes his way back to his vehicle, pulling a toolbox out of the truck bed.

“And lost I am, Mr. Morales,” you say to the open air. “Lost on why you won’t let me help you.”

“You think your funny,” Francisco says, toolbox swinging by his side.

He bypasses you at his steps, walking up to the door. He shoves a hand in his back pocket, keys jingling when he pulls them out. Seeing an opportunity, you take it, rushing up with tinny footsteps to grab them from his fingers. Francisco spins on his heel, trying to crowd you against nothing as you step away.

“Give those back. Right now.”

You eye the toolbox held in his grasp, the way his fingers flex tight around the handle. He’s resisting an urge that, given his military training, must be hardwired.

“Or what? You going to bash my brains in?” you ask. “I’m trying to keep you out of prison but if you want in so bad, go ahead.”

The muscles in his jaw tense. The toolbox falls to the dirt and gravel with a clatter, tools spilling out on the ground. Francisco says, “You have thirty seconds.”

“I’ve obtained documents—federal U.S. documents—that detail your upcoming indictment and potential extradition to Colombia, Mr. Morales. Whatever you may or may not have done, the government is convinced that you’re guilty. They’re set to hang you. All of you. I’m trying to make sure that doesn’t happen. Please. Let me help you. Let me do the right thing.” Seven seconds to spare.

Francisco’s face is stone, unreadable as he stares at you. With the sun behind him, you see the contrasting light and dark browns in strands of his hair. This man can’t go to prison if only for the fact that he’s too pretty. Still, he seems stubborn as a mule. When he opens his mouth to speak, you brace yourself for another rejection.

“It’s Frankie,” he says.

You blink at him. “Pardon?”

“Not Mr. Morales. Call me Frankie.”

“Frankie, is that a yes?” you ask.

He looks at his shoes, worn and muddy, then back at you. “Yes.”

“Okay, so—”

“Come back this time tomorrow,” Frankie says.

“Are you serious?”

“You wanna help me? Do the right thing?” he asks sarcastically. “Come back tomorrow.”

Then he steps forward, taking his keys from you before turning towards the door. Frankie walks up the steps, turns the key in the lock and disappears into the trailer. You stare at his door for a moment longer, sighing to yourself. You let yourself float back to the car, functioning on autopilot as you hold the steering wheel and drive back to the motel.

Limbs heavy with sunshine, you roll into bed. Part of you wants to call Marcus and gush about the success. You want to hear him tell you that you did a good job. That you’re good, just like him. Something holds you back from reaching for the phone. The sense that he could dismiss you; stay toeing the company line as he tells you that he can’t discuss this on a call.

No, it doesn’t quite feel that way. Disappointment doesn’t catch in your throat as you stare at his contact on your screen. A kernel of something else has lodged itself in your gut, throwing everything off. It’s an overreaction, surely…but you can’t shake the feeling.

You drift in and out of sleep. Strange dreams dance behind your eyelids between intermittent hours of pausing black. Nothing is discernible from anything else, all of it blending into one mess. Your heart pounds when you sit up next, eyes wide in the dark. Deep breaths calm your body, bringing your heartbeat back to something within the territory of normal. You can’t shake the adrenaline coursing through your veins, hands clenched tight at your sides.

You haven’t felt anything that strongly since the arrest. Six years ago, in the events before the courthouse and the lawyer: a federal officer holding you at gunpoint, your own weapons a cup of coffee and a very incriminating file folder; getting on your knees outside of a yoga studio—or was it a convenience store? You can’t quite remember. The memory has been dissected and rearranged too many times for proper examination.

Ever since, you have never been alone again. At first it was real, the ankle monitor on your left side winking at you every so often. The device was constant reminder that you were always being watched. Supervised release, they called it. Reporting to your federal probation officer, you were ordered to never step foot outside of Kendall County for the next two years. No alcohol, recreational substances, or access to any type of computers. Apparently, supposedly committing treason by accessing a government database meant you couldn’t text anyone for the rest of your days.

It certainly felt like your life would end there. Two years. 730 days that never got easier. The looks of shame from your mom started to subside around day 457. Dad was easier to come around, figuring you needed someone in your corner. He helped you get a job working at the local library, completely analog in their systems. The two of you traded off the duties of cooking every week.

The first person you called when it was over was Marcus. Of course. Your best friend, the man who saved you. He had to be the first call.

Despite all odds, he’d answered. You’ve never cried so hard. All you could do was thank him over and over. Between the tears, he managed to tell you about Teresa Lisbon.

You never really saw him as you pieced your life back together, but it always felt like he was there. The position at the library evolved into a spot at the Boerne Star, then at the KSAT station as a scriptwriter. Phone calls were few and far between with Marcus Pike. He was busy in Houston catching forgers and thieves. It always puzzled you, the art obsession. You remembered Marcus in school. He’d wanted to change the world. But this must have been his way of doing that. 

When you told him that you were taking a job in New York, he sounded so…disappointed. There was no other way to put it. You thought he would be proud. After life spun out of your control, you had finally managed to make it somewhere. But his words were placating, trying to conceal the let down with the usual script of excitement. You hung up the phone before Marcus could finish saying goodbye.

Nothing bad has to happen these days for you to lose touch with someone. Maybe that was a lie.

Even with Marcus’ absence in your life, you could never shake the sense of being watched. You figured that was a result of the probation. Once you come to accept those kinds of conditions, they never leave. Even if no one else is watching, you certainly are. Right now, you’re waiting on the moment that you catch yourself.

The Lodge and the room you’re staying in can only be described with the word grime. You can feel the filth on your hands that isn’t visible to the naked eye. The back of the sink is coated in a thin layer of dust each morning, regardless of the toilet paper wipe-down you give it. The only saving grace is the shower; a constant, even-pressured flow of temperate water to take your mind off the past and present.

You should be thinking about Francisco—Frankie. What you’re even doing out here. After months of fishing, you have finally caught him. The question is, what are you going to do with the man they call Catfish?

Ultimately, you start with what you do best: asking questions. But when you get to his place and he lets you in, willingly this time, he can’t seem to answer even the first one.

“Frankie, it’s a simple question. Are you innocent?” you ask him again.

The man meets you with uncomfortable silence, foot tapping lightly against the peeling floor.

“This is the part where you say yes.”

He simply hums, giving you a sniff of his nose. Frankie’s lips stay shut.

“You need to answer the questions if I’m going to help you,” you say, this side of exasperated. The two of you have been sat here for twenty minutes, semi-silently going back and forth over this one question. You have no clue how he’s going to manage the entire list you have prepared.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” he finally says.

“Yes or no,” you say. “And the answer’s yes…” Frankie’s jaw twitches as he clenches his teeth. A tell. “The answer is yes, right?”

Another sniffle. You sigh. Clearly this is going nowhere.

“Okay, let’s try a different question. When did you meet Will Miller?”

“No.”

“How am I—” You stop yourself, hearing the strong tone as words burst forth. Pause, readjust. Restart. “How am I supposed to help you if I don’t know anything?”

Frankie sucks his teeth. “There’s a lot I can’t tell you.”

“Then what am I doing here?”

“You tell me,” he says.

“Why do you want me here?” you ask. Frankie meets your gaze before glancing away, the corner of his left eye twitching.

There it is. His body betrays him with each question you ask, bit by bit. He wants you here. Something has led him to allowing you in this space, to let you take up his wasted time.

“Tell me about yourself.” It’s not a question. Men like this, like Frankie, don’t respond to questions. They follow orders and meet demands.

“I’m fourty-two. Five foot eleven, 210 pounds. I like long walks on the beach and candle-lit dinners, and—”

You stand from your seat at his crappy dinner table.

“Shit, wait. Okay,” Frankie says. You don’t look at him, organizing your notes to slip them back into your purse. “I said okay.”

“You’re done with the bullshit games, then?” you ask.

Frankie sighs silently, his chest caving in slightly.

“We grew up in Raymondville. Poorest family on the block, not that that’s sayin’ much. My mother, me, and my little brother. She worked nights as an attendant at the Valley View Inn. Sometimes she’d come home with those, uh…the hotcakes from McDonald’s. You knew it was gonna be a good day when Mom came home with breakfast. My brother always asked her where they got those tiny pads of butter—if they kept hundreds of little containers in the back, like the big tub of margarine we had in the fridge. And she’d always say, descuida, mis pollitos.” Frankie swallows. “Anyway. She’s dead, so.”

Jesus. It really is all or nothing with him.

You say, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It’s fine. You know, people die,” he says. “Cancer, by the way.”

“Huh?”

“That’s how she died. I figured you might ask. They said they found it a little too late.”

You don’t know what else to say. There’s something plain and aching on his face, an open window to all the hurt Frankie holds over this. It makes you feel bad. Terrible, really. Your mind hitches to the track of what could have been done to make this better. Who could’ve stepped in? Who could have saved this family?

It’s exactly what you want. What you need. This right here? This pain, spun the right way, might just save his life. His buddies too, if they’re lucky. You pretend to scribble something down, clearing your throat before moving onto the next question.

You leave shortly after that, getting through twelve of the fifty questions. Crude notes on his childhood, family life, and a few answers dipping into his time in the military litter your notepad. The experience isn’t exactly Frankie opening up. You’re prying him apart, bit by bit. There’s no guarantee of a pearl waiting for you when everything is said and done; you don’t even know when that will be.

Back at the motel after a criminally long shower, you lie awake in bed. Sleep won’t come no matter how hard you try. At this point, you’ve given up.

Something isn’t sitting quite right. The refusal to spare you even a word, then sliding right into a deeply personal admission is…strange. That’s not how people work. Well, normal people. You’ve known for a while now that these men are not exactly the most well-adjusted folks. Replaying the day in your head, the interaction puzzles you.

You dial Marcus despite your better judgement. He answers on the fourth ring.

“How do you know if someone’s guilty?”

“Jesus,” he says, voice thick with sleep. You hear shuffling on the other end. “It’s four o’clock in the morning.”

“What about it?”

“A little early, don’t you think?” Marcus asks.

“Think of it as returning the favour,” you say. Then, “So, how do you?”

“How do you what?”

You sigh, frustrated, ready to hang up already. “In your line of work as a professional narc—how do you, Marcus Pike, know when a suspect is guilty?”

“My gut.”

“Oh, come on,” you sigh.

“I’m serious,” Marcus says.

“So they teach bowel movements at the academy? Makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“Very funny. I don’t know, uh…usually you’ve got evidence against them.”

“Let’s say it’s circumstantial. Or you don’t know what it is,” you say.

“Like, it’s classified?” Marcus asks. For a moment, all you can hear is his breathing. “What’s this about?”

“Nothing, just ans—”

“Is this about…” he trails off, dodging the unintentional self-incrimination attempt. “Is this about that thing from breakfast?”

“Answer the question,” you say.

“You first.”

“Marcus.”

“If you’re going in blind, you want to observe the behaviour of the suspect. If they’re dodging questions, how they react to pertinent details or things tangentially related to the crime they’re suspected of.”

“What about…manipulation?”

“We see it all the time. Trying to appeal to your better nature, justifying the crimes without directly linking themselves,” Marcus says.

“And?”

“Telling you what you want to hear. Sometimes guys will answer one half of the question but not the other, or something to that effect. A smaller sacrifice to keep the bigger deal under wraps.”

Shit.

“Are you okay?” Marcus asks.

You didn’t realize you mumbled that out loud. “Fine. Sorry to bug you so early.”

“Wait, wait. Hold on. Seriously. Is this about that pilot?”

“I thought—”

“Don’t worry about it. Just answer the question,” he says.

“There’s something off. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it,” you tell him.

Marcus sighs. “Want me to look into it?”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you say.

“You’re not. Consider it done. I’ll let you know if there’s anything later on. Alright?”

You’ve missed this. Missed him. Marcus who helps you, protects you, uplifts you. The one guy who can always get you out of a jam; always has a solution. All of your uncertainty melts away at his question. Marcus is your best friend. He loves you.

“Alright.”

When you pull up to Frankie’s place again, he’s waiting on you. His works boots are scuffed with mud, a shiner bluer than the moon gracing the skin around his right eye. Getting out of your truck, you try to school any look of worry off your face. A neutral mask takes the place where gaping concern should be as you greet him with a quick hello.

“You wanna come in then?” he asks, shielding his face from the sun.

You follow him inside, setting your purse down and pulling out your notepad once again. Frankie hasn’t sat at the table with you quite yet. He stands at his fridge, fishing something out. He comes away from the tall appliance with a clear plastic pitcher of something liquid, vaguely foggy yellow.

“Would you like something to drink?”

Looking up from your notes, you pause to stare at him. It’s the first nice thing he’s done so far in this…working relationship. It takes a moment for your mouth to catch up to your brain.

“Uh, sure,” you say dumbly.

He pours out two mugs of something, both emblazoned with a fiery racing logo. Walking closer to you, he hands you the taller one. You take it with both hands, fingers clutching the ceramic like it’s some sort of precious artifact. Sipping slowly, the drink washes sugar onto your tongue, followed by a wave of mild tang. Lemonade.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Frankie says.

“So I figured we would start where we left off,” you say.

A beat passes where neither of you speak. Then Frankie says, “Can I ask you a question?”

Narrowing your eyes, you say, “Shoot.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Why are you trying to help me?” he asks. “Most people look at the things I’ve supposedly done, and then they look at me. Doesn’t usually end up that they feel like helpin’ out.”

“I’m not like most people,” you say.

“That’s pretty clear,” Frankie says.

This moment of whatever ends at that. You delve back into your list of softball questions, writing down brief notes on his answers. Anything here could be good to mine for an article. Background on his family, the shallow waters you’ve broached about the service.

You ask, “What’s life like now?”

Frankie seems to almost flinch, giving you a bit of a double take. “Life now?” he repeats.

“Yeah. What’s the day-to-day of Francisco Morales?”

“Get up around four—except for the days you’re coming around. Shit, shave, brush my teeth. Uh…I usually get to work at six, get off at eight.”

“So it’s dark when you leave and dusk when you get home?” you ask.

Frankie hums, considering this. “Yeah, I guess so.”

You write that down, eyebrows pinching as you swallow down the gloom that rises in your throat. From what you have so far, even if he was guilty, a part of you can’t really blame him. The hand he’s been dealt is dog shit. All those things he’s done for this country, supposedly so great, and this is the life he has to show for it?

For any other profession, being such an expert in his field would have awarded him a comfortable existence. A nice house in some plain, cushy suburb. Two-point-five kids and a dog, a wife. Maybe a divorce, considering his general demeanour, but still. He deserved that life. He deserved a choice. From what you’ve pieced together, it wasn’t an option. Not sustainably.

Finally, you can’t help yourself. “Can I ask what happened to your eye?”

“It’s nothing,” he shrugs. “Little altercation with the neighbour. It won’t be happening again.”

Looking out his side window, you’re only now noticing the lack of the dainty little RV that’s usually parked a few spots away. The body was striped pink and green, faded with sunshine and age. It reminded you of a grandmother’s doily, especially in contrast to the mired trailer of Frankie’s that sat so close by. You can’t imagine anyone living in that thing to have wanted to hurt a fly.

“You get into it with granny over her shortbread recipe?” you ask, laughing lightly.

“The granny’s punkass grandson, actually,” Frankie informs you. “Said some stupid shit. Had no idea what he was talking about, so I set him straight.”

You hum. “Right.”

“If you don’t like my way of doing things, you can leave,” he says, motioning to the door.

The tonal shift gives you whiplash. “I didn’t—” you stop yourself as your phone buzzes, pulling your attention away from him. You slip it off the table, quickly reading the notification.

A message from Marcus. Call me ASAP.

You look up at Frankie again. He’s watching you expectantly.

“Well?” he asks.

“Clearly you’re upset,” you say. “Maybe I should come back another day.”

You’re confused and, you hate to admit, a little hurt. Just when you start to see some progress here, Frankie rips it away. Quietly, you pack up your things and turn to leave. You’re waiting for that sudden epiphany, that movie star moment when he’s supposed to realize what an ass he is and hastily apologize. It doesn’t come, and you let the screen door slam shut behind you.

Standing by the door to the truck, you call Marcus.

“Hey, what’s up?” you ask.

“I found some new information,” he says.

“Alright. Anything good?”

“Where are you right now?”

“Just leaving the Morales place.” You pull open the driver’s side door, tossing your purse into the passenger seat. “What’d you find?”

“You should get out of there first,” Marcus says.

“Just tell me, god. The suspense is killer.”

He says your name, snapping you out of your lackadaisical daydream. “He’s guilty.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve got security camera images from the drug lord that they supposedly shot and robbed. They’re all here. All five of ‘em.”

You freeze. “You're sure?"

"Certain."

"How could I have missed this?” you ask.

“You didn’t miss anything. Highly classified. I’m even breaking a few too many rules for the department’s liking right now looking at it myself,” Marcus says. “They buried the good stuff, kid. I’m assuming so they had it in their arsenal should this thing go to trial. To stop fuckers like us from doing what we’re trying to do.”

“And what is that exactly?”

Your whole world comes crashing down in one phone call. How sad.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. You thought you were doing the right thing,” he says. “Just…get out of there. Come home.”

Home. That sounds like exactly what you need, ego bruised and hope shattered. All of this work, and for what? Another mistake. You’re still the same fuck up you’ve always been.

“Hey!” you hear a deep voice call from behind you. Turning, you watch Frankie descend from the porch of his trailer, holding something.

“What was that?” Marcus’ voice seems so out of place here.

“I’ll call you back,” you mumble into the speaker.

Hanging up before Pike can get another word in, Frankie’s walking up to you now.

“You forgot this,” he says, presenting you with a pen.

“Thanks.” You pluck it from between his fingers, manner cool and reserved.

“Look, I’m sorry. I need to stop doing that,” Frankie says. Here comes the movie moment. “D’you wanna come back inside?”

Here, you’re at a crossroads. Two paths lay before you, distinctly forked down the middle. Go to Marcus… Or stay with Frankie.

There’s that familiar warmth that doesn’t seem to always welcome you anymore, but when he does, it’s a refuge from everything else. But when it’s cold, it’s freezing—Marcus can ice you out oh-so-easily these days. Then Frankie, an uncertain tiptoe around a test of rusty nails. On the other side is a sweetness that you’ve only seem a glimpse of, a sadness you can feel in your chest. Something tells you that’s a rabbit hole you’re never leaving if you decide to drop down.

The decision is unfortunately yours. You hope Marcus can forgive you.

You slam the truck door shut with your elbow. Pointing the tip of the pen at Frankie, you stare him down. “You have to stop being such an ass. It’s not doing you any favours.”

That manages to pull a laugh out of him, breathy and garbled in its tired reluctance. He looks like a man who hasn’t laughed in a long time.

Back inside his crowded home, you bypass the chair and sit right on the edge of the table. Feet dangling, you set your purse down where your seat usually is.

"I've got a question for you," you say.

"Isn't that your job? You've got about a million of 'em," Frankie says.

Ignoring the dig, you press on. "You did it, right?”

"Excuse me?"

"What they say you did. The heist, the money, the murder. That all happened?" you ask further.

Frankie looks away, jaw clenching under muscle. He'll need to work on his poker face. "You saw the files, surveillance photos. You know what it says."

"If you think I'm the type to blindly trust the United States government, you are sorely mistaken," you say. "The files say one thing—they tell one narrative, give me certain thoughts. I wanna hear it from you."

That seems to pique his interest. "Certain thoughts...such as?"

You kill his line of questioning as quickly as it blooms. "It doesn't matter what I think. What matters is if you're guilty. So I'll ask again: did you do it?"

You know he did. Hell, in all likelihood, he knows that you know. This is a test. A simple regimen of pass or fail to see if you should even keep going with this.

"Yes," Frankie says. He doesn't look at you, almost like he can't. The word falls from his mouth like a tooth on a string; you've slammed the door shut and yanked it from him.

"Good," you say. He raises an eyebrow. "Getting you to admit it now will be easier to maneuver in the story. And in court."

"I don't understand."

"If you're going to prison, it should be here," you say. "Not because you deserve it. But because over there, you’ll die." 

[sibylsleaves]

Can you expand on your thoughts on redemptions in the show? I enjoyed Hen’s mother’s and Eddie’s fathers because we saw they are genuine in their willingness to change and have an understanding how they have affected their children. They aren’t perfect but it’s taking accountability and it’s a start. The others? No. With Taylor they give her a backstory to distract from her bad actions that seemed never ending. Now with Tommy. Do you think the writers/Tim think the general audience doesn’t pick up or remember how these people’s actions deeply affected the other characters(Buckleys, Chim’s dad, Taylor and the other T) before they bring them back and force people to have sympathy for them? I try to invoke nuance and empathy because losing a child is horrific but two living children did and still suffer from the Buckley’s actions. I am glad that Buck and Maddie appear to be moving forward despite their parents unwillingness to address and accept their role in how their children are to this day but that’s got to hurt deeply. As well as Chimney’s dad. And when Taylor left after causing the chaos and hurting so many people over the years they bring in someone else that has a grimey past that is already overlooked

you sent this to me a while ago and I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to answer it. I saw it and I was like hmmm interesting topic I will ruminate on this and then of course I forgot about it.

Anyway. This IS an interesting topic to me because I feel like the concept of redemption is in many ways the raison d'etre of the show. Or at least they want it to be, given how they set up Bobby's character arc in the first season. It's definitely a theme they keep returning to with, imo, mixed results in their execution.

Part of the problem I think is just that 911 is fundamentally a basic network procedural television show, which is always going to tend more toward the schlocky and heartfelt. Which, don't get me wrong, is also one of the selling points of the show imo--we are not watching this show the way you watch prestige television that's maybe more willing to take its characters down a darker path and grapple with these questions with more complexity.

So at the end of the day it's kind of in the show's nature to want to tell feel-good stories, and to that end I think they are maybe more likely to brush off past wrongdoing in order to make the point that redemption is always possible and reconciliation is, almost always, the end-goal. There are a few storylines where they have characters who are simply painted as irredeemable monsters (Doug and Jeffrey are the main ones that come to mind) and what's interesting to me about that is they really have to heavily emphasize the monstrousness of those characters.

But fundamentally the show is just ill-suited to telling the story of like. Here's a kind of shitty guy (or woman) who isn't a complete and total monster by any means but nevertheless will not actually learn from his mistakes and seek redemption because sometimes people are just incapable or not interested in doing that. Or even: here is a kind of shitty guy or woman who did something fairly reprehensible and is trying to do better but nevertheless the people affected by their actions have every right to NOT forgive them or want them in their lives.

As a show it is overall more optimistic than realistic about the human condition--and again. I do think that's a selling point of the show and often what makes it work. Just thinking about personally some of my favorite moments of the show which are heavy on the "heartfelt/feel good": everyone coming together to lift the firetruck off Buck, the scene with the christmas lights during the black-out, the part in Defend in Place when they are all praying together in the parking lot.

But. all this to say. That does mean that sometimes their depictions of something as complex and messy as "redemption" can fall a bit flat. I do think the show has a pattern of "redeeming" characters without actually showing us that they understand what they did was wrong. They use short-hand instead--the Buckley parents sticking around after Buck was struck by lightning to show us they've changed, Tommy shaking Chim's hand after he saved his life, etc. And skip over the actual messy parts of the process of redemption. Which is also in part because these are, at the end of the day, side characters, and their internal lives are not really important except with respect to how they influence their relationships with our main characters. Which is also why I think the most nuanced take they've managed to do is with Bobby's story--at least with SOME of the Amir storyline it's clear that to Bobby this process is far from complete and the fact that Amir did not actually offer Bobby his forgiveness at the end is, in my opinion, the closest they've come so far to telling this story in an actually nuanced way. But even then they tied it up with about as neat as a bow as they could.

[lulu24784]

washing machine heart | part 5

"I know who you pretend I am."

[AO3 Link]

previous chapter | next chapter

synopsis: | You're absolutely infatuated with Stan Marsh and have even started dating him! It should be a dream come true, but the truth is, he's only with you to make Wendy Testaburger jealous. To help you work through your emotions, you turn to Kenny McCormick, your best friend.

pairings: | kenny mccormick x fem! reader ; stan marsh x fem! reader ; wendy testaburger x stan marsh

cws: | angst, drug use/drug mentions, explicit language, sexual content, unrequited love, mental health themes / sh

everyone is aged up to be 18+ tw; there is a bit more sexy writing in this chapter also A LOT of reader self-deprecation. like, more so than usual.

It had felt like hours had passed.

In reality, it had only been about twenty minutes.

You kept watching the road while listening to the music Stan had turned on, on the radio for you. Arctic Monkeys or something, you figured. It wasn’t until long that he eventually pulled over. He had stopped near a cliff that offered a view of South Park in its entirety. You scanned around you, taking it all in. Honestly, it was quite beautiful. You were surprised.

When you turned to face Stan, he still hadn’t taken his eyes off the scenery outside the window. You hesitantly bit on your lower lip before reaching out and resting your hand on his arm. After a little quiver from the touch, Stan finally fixed his attention on you.

“Hey...”

Uncertain about Stan’s emotions, you spoke in a hushed tone. Was he still pissed off at you for hanging out with Kenny? Given that he knew of your friendship with Kenny prior to the two of you dating, his reaction to it came as a bit of a surprise. You chalked it up to insecurity, aware of how annoying it could be, leading you to second-guess yourself and entertain unwanted ideas.

Your thumb gently rubbed Stan’s arm, trying to coax him into talking with you. Motivating him to do anything at all. The longer he stared at you, the more anxious you became.

Stan swallowed slowly and opened his mouth, as if about to speak, but then paused and sighed.

“Hey, Uh... I’m really sorry about earlier.”

As he reached for your hand, he shifted awkwardly in his chair. In an effort to reassure him that everything was okay, you gave it a tiny squeeze.

“I couldn’t help but get a little jealous, y’know? I mean, you’re my girlfriend. I just...” He moved his body so that he was leaning closer to you, but the car’s center console prevented him from getting much closer. “I want you all to myself.” His tone was low as he spoke.

Your face warmed at his words, and you agreed with a small nod. “Y-Yeah... I get it.”

Stan smiled briefly at you before averting his eyes once more.

“Y... You won’t... You won’t leave me, right?” Stan mumbled his words. “Like, you like me and stuff... Right? You’re not gonna just up and dump me? I mean, cause like. You kind of make things feel less shitty. So...” He trailed off.

Taking notice of the shaking in his hand, your heart instantly started to melt. You tightened your hold on his hand and stared at him in shock.

“I like you! I’d never leave. Never.” You raised your voice. You felt like you wanted to shout this to the rooftops if you could. The urge to grab Stan by the shoulders and shake some sense into him was tremendous. Of course you liked him! You loved him! You loved everything about the guy.

“You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met! You’re friggin gorgeous and so incredibly sweet! Not to mention a hot-ass athlete!” The words spilled out of your mouth and you couldn’t control it. “A-And.. I mean, you... You like someone like me! I would never leave!” You stared at Stan, red-faced. How corny could you be?

With his free hand reaching up to shield his face, Stan laughed.

Oh no.

You made a fool of yourself, didn’t you? As you watched the boy laugh at you, your stomach dropped. You stammered out, your lip quivering.

“Dude, what the heck? You’re so cute.” Stan made a lame attempt to stifle his giggle while continuing his efforts to hide his face. You couldn’t look away once you noticed that his cheeks were flushed.

How could someone be this perfect?

Your emotions overcame you and you impulsively kissed Stan.

The moment he kissed you back, your hold on his hand started to weaken. You could’ve sworn you died and went to heaven. One kiss from Stan was all it took to send you soaring. How was it even possible for there to be someone who could make you feel like this? Someone who was capable of eradicating all of your anxieties. It was magical. Giving in, you let the feeling of Stan’s lips on yours consume you.

In no time at all, the tender kiss developed into a passionate make-out session. Your hands wandered all over each other, taking in as much of each other as you could. Stan had somehow manoeuvred you into the rear seat of his car, and you weren’t even sure how. Without wasting any time, he leaned forward and pinned you to the seat with his hands, one on either side of your head.

He dipped his head down and kissed your neck and shoulder with delicate open-mouth kisses. Occasionally pausing to bite and lick the skin, leaving a tiny mark and eliciting a loving sigh from you each time.

“How did I get so lucky...” He cooed, then started working his way up your sweater in a slow, careful manner.

Your mind was whirling. Feeling like your heart was going to give out at any minute. His scent overwhelming you. It was as if his hands were on fire as they pressed into you.

What happened to taking things slow?! You two had literally talked about it yesterday!

Stan’s hand moved to your breast and began massaging the mound through your bralette, and you breathed out.

Taking what slow? You had no idea anymore. All that mattered was that you were here, doing these things with the guy you were so excited to call your boyfriend. Your mind was a mushy mess. There are no longer any coherent thoughts in your head. Not even a fleeting idea of your partner’s ex entered your head. Hell, not even the fact that you were a complete and utter virgin with zero prior experience could ruin this.

It was as though you were high for the first time.

Is this what it’s like? Is this how Kenny feels all the time? Damn...

As he continued to feel and grope your body, his hands were so delicate. Almost as if he was afraid to hurt you.

Without a word, he had removed your sweater and his. Hands now pulling the bralette straps down to expose your chest to him. You instinctively reached up to conceal yourself, but Stan grabbed your arm and held it before you could.

“Fuckin’ beautiful.” He murmured while placing wet kisses on your chest. Giving a few small licks to your nipple before taking it into his mouth.

You moaned softly and tangled your free hand in Stan’s black hair, causing his beanie to fall off. A light pulling on Stan’s hair elicited a deep, husky groan. The sound caused you to squirm and your cheeks to become even more heated.

The moment Stan lowered his hands to touch the hem of your skirt, your god awful insecurities began to surface.

“Stan...” You exhaled.

“Mm?”

“I’m... Ah...”

He gave your stomach a few gentle kisses before looking up at you with half-lid eyes.

You shifted around uneasily.

“I uh... I dunno. Maybe we could... Um...” You gave Stan a shy glance. “S-Slow down. I, um.. I’m not sure if I’m ready... Just yet.”

You could see the disappointment flash across Stan’s face, but it was only for a second. You felt a knot in your stomach.

“Of course.” He gave you a reassuring smile and a quick peck on the cheek before taking a seat next to you.

You felt awful! This poor boy was now going to have to deal with blue balls because of you! How could you?

You suck.

Absolutely pathetic.

What kind of girlfriend are you?

Wendy would’ve done it.

She would’ve fucked him sooo good.

Bet he regrets dating you now.

Constant thoughts assaulted your mind. You were nauseous.

You sat up slowly next to Stan and gave him a cursory glance. “Sorry...”

“No, no. Don’t be sorry.” He spoke softly and assisted you in putting your sweater back on after adjusting your bralette for you. “We’ll go slow. I don’t mind.” Stan took your cheek in his palm and cradled it. “It’s okay.”

While fighting back tears, you nodded. There was no way you were going to let him see you cry. You already ruined everything else. The last thing you needed was for him to deal with you being a crybaby.

Stan drew you into a hug by leaning back and enveloping you in his arms. Although it took some time, you were eventually able to let go and relax into him.

You spent the remainder of the evening snuggled up together and discussing anything that came to mind. It was nice and peaceful.

In spite of this, the never-ending scream in the back of your mind would not stop.

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

Soon enough, Stan had dropped you off at your home, and you went inside to retire for the night.

As you snuggled deep into the blankets, you couldn’t help but wish that you could just melt into your bed and vanish. To fade away into oblivion. Then, perhaps, your mind would finally shut off.

In your desperation for sleep to tear you from this plane of existence, you closed your eyes and tried to drift off to sleep, paying little attention to the text notifications that were buzzing on your phone. Hopefully, you’ll have sweet dreams...

Ones of you and Kenny being best buddies forever. Hanging out with him and Karen.

Kickin’ ass, takin’ names, and cashin’ cheques!

Nothing could stop you!

You would all share a huge house and eat so many pancakes! It would be awesome.

Karen could bring her friends over.

Kenny would obviously bring the gang... No... That includes—! He’d have some... girls?

No

Then you would have your boyfriend...

Stan.

Stan?

They were going to laugh at you.

Stan’s friends. Stan. Kenny. Wendy?!

What a joke! Some lame excuse for a “girlfriend” you were.

You didn’t put out.

You couldn’t do the only thing you were good for.

You really think Stan is with you because he likes you?!

He couldn’t use you.

What good are you otherwise?!

WHAT GOOD ARE YOU OTHERWISE—

You sprang up, gasping for air. The annoying sound of your ringtone going off next to you as you tried to catch your breath. Sweat dripping from your forehead.

Your head crashed against your pillow as you collapsed back down after taking a deep breath. Who was calling you at this hour of the night? You raised your arm and wiped the sweat from your brow before grabbing your phone. Squinting as your eyes adjusted to the brightness of the display.

The name “Kenny” was written in bold font.

You answered the call without hesitation.

“What?!” you roared.

“Oh, thank god you answered!”

You closed your eyes for a second. What the hell was he on about?

“Why haven’t you answered your phone?! I’ve been trying to contact you all night! Stan driving like a fucking idiot with you in the car... I thought something happened to you! He didn’t take you home right away!”

Kenny’s voice sounded frantic.

“Woah, woah. Hey. I’m fine. We just went and hung out after...” You trailed. “I mean... He’s my boyfriend, right? So I guess that’s normal... Or something.”

“Still! You could’ve sent me a text back or something!”

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and put the phone on speaker before laying it down on the pillow next to you.

“Mmkay, sorry Ken.” You grumbled as you turned over under the covers and resumed your cozy position.

“Just... I’m glad you’re safe.” Kenny coughed awkwardly. “Sorry for callin’ so late.”

“It’s kay...”

“Was your date good at least? Musta been if you didn’t text me.”

“Mmm...”

Not even a few seconds later could Kenny hear your gentle snore on his end. He cracked a little smile and made himself comfortable in bed. He picked up a sketchbook off the floor and started doodling while he continued the call, wanting to hear you.

[brett-is-afraid]

CCJacksepticeye/Tommyinnit playlist?? For me??? 👉👈 pleas I am just a poor little meow meow and it's my birthday it's my poor little meow meow birthday /nf /j

Ya got it! The inspiration for this was kind of a mentor/mentee romance and themes of being more open in a relationship than you are with others.

These days, I'm way too lonely. I'm missing out, I know. These days, I'm way too alone. And I'm known for giving love away, but I want someone who loves me. I need someone who needs me. Cause it don't feel right when it's late at night and it's just me in my dreams.

I remember watching our seeds grow and how you cried when you saw the first leaves show. The love was pouring from your eyes. through the trees, I will find you. I will heal the ruins left inside you.

People were mean to you, but I always thought you were cool. People should've told you you were awesome, instead of taking advantage of you. We held onto hope of better days coming and when we did, we were right. I hope the people who did you wrong have trouble sleeping at night.

There'll always be a few things, maybe several things, that you're gonna find really difficult to forgive. There's gonna come a day when you feel better, you'll rise up free and easy on that day. Just when that day is coming, who can say?

From time to time, I pinch myself. Because I think my girl mistakes me for somebody else. 'Cause you were out of my league, all the things I believed. If I die, don't wake me. 'Cause you are more than just a dream.

Pull it out of park, put it in drive. I can feel your heart beatin' with mine. Underneath the stars, lookin' for a sign. Glowing in the dark 'til the sun shine. Made it pretty far on our first try, might've set the bar a little too high.

I've been sleeping with the light on, I tend to freak myself out. Will you come a little closer? And tell me I'm a scrawny motherfucker with a cool hairstyle.

Baby, you're the highlight of my lowlife. Take a shitty day and make it alright. Oh, in every circumstance, yeah. You make the difference.

[mrmonster459]

Samson’s Pit

Location: Orlando, Florida

“And now, put your hands together for…SWAMPY!” the show’s host shouted through his microphone.

I then walked onto the stage, in an alligator costume, ready to dance around and take photos with the kids. Which, on a 95 degree summer day, was really not a lot of fun.

I was working a summer job at Gatorworld, a shitty theme park just a few miles outside of DisneyWorld, meant to leech off DisneyWorld’s tourists. After an hour where kids were shown snakes, snapping turtles, and even a cougar, I was sent out in a big hot Gator costume, so all the kids could get their moment with Swampy.

______

It was the last show of the day. I thought I could just pack up and leave, and was really hoping to. There was a tropical storm heading to Orlando that night, and I wanted to be indoors when it happened.

After I got out of the gator costume, my supervisor came up to me and said “Hey Samantha, Brennan just called me, he’s stuck in the mother of all traffic jams trying to get back into the city, he doesn’t know when he’ll be here. Do you think you can feed the gators?”

Brennan was our local animal handler, and a pretty damn good one. He was jacked as a professional wrestler, and had a command voice that would make even our meanest animals shut up and sit still.

“Sure thing, Mr. Gutierez.” I said as I went to get the gator food. As much as I wanted to get home, I figured feeding the gators wouldn’t take too long.

_______

It was simple; I was supposed to take raw beef/pork patties, and throw them around the area we called “The Pit.”

The Pit was the focal point of our park; it was a fourteen hundred square foot outdoor exhibit home to twenty-three alligators, including our main attraction, Samson.

Samson was twelve feet long, and weighed over eleven hundred pounds. He was the nastiest, most aggressive gator in the whole park. And he was the one tourists would come from all over the United States to come see.

“Ugh.” I said to myself as I opened one of the plastic barrels full of the mostly expired meat discs. It smelled like a dumpster on a hot day, and so strong I had a gag reflex. It was supposed to take just a few minutes, but then, my watch flew off my wrist when I was throwing a meat patty, and flew all the way into the pit.

“Damn it.” I said. My boyfriend got me that watch, I couldn’t leave it. I unlocked a ladder, hoping I could just lower myself into the pit, grab it, and get back out before anyone saw me.

But then, as I was about halfway down, I heard the sudden creak of the ladder breaking off its bolts. I don’t know what made the ladder so loose; I don’t know if it was storm damage, or if the damn screws had just rusted off, but for whatever reason, the ladder had broken, and I fell ten feet into the pit.

I landed in a two foot puddle of water. I quickly picked myself up and stumbled towards the nearest patch of land in the Pit. I grabbed my walkie talkie, but it didn't work. Must have been damaged in the fall.

"Shit." I said to myself. "HELP! HELP, I'M STUCK DOWN HERE!" I tried shouting, but no one was around to hear. All the guests had already gone home, and the remaining staff were doing their jobs in other areas of the park.

I couldn’t get back up the ladder, that would be impossible. My only hope of getting out of there would be to get to one of the Pit’s extraction doors.

There were four doors at the bottom level of the Pit, doors that would allow us to safely get in and extract gators that needed medical attention. And now, it was my only hope of getting out of that pit. Only problem was that none of them were near the island I landed on, so I had to wade through the murky water.

____

When I reached a nearby patch of land, I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking I was safe when I turned around and saw gators were continuing to help themselves to the crap I had already thrown into the pit. But then, my heart sank when I saw something crawl out of the water.

“Shit.” I said as Samson started crawling towards me.

The rest of the gators may have been happy to munch on the expired meat we got for pennies on the dollar from Wal-Mart, but Samson clearly wanted something more fresh.

“Hey buddy.” I said as I stepped back away from him. The only weapon I had on me was the box cutter I used to open the meat barrel, I couldn’t possibly fight him off if he attacked.

Which is exactly what he did. Moments later, he lunged at me. I turned and started running for a tree. If I couldn’t fight him, I could at least try to escape him.

I got to the tree and hoisted myself up with just seconds to spare. Samson was barreling towards me, he would have caught up to me if I had been even a little slower.

After unsuccessfully trying to snap at me, Samson gave up and retreated back into the water; but I knew he was still out there, waiting.

Worse, almost immediately after I climbed the tree, it started raining. Which meant the storm was imminent. I had to worry if I wanted to escape getting caught in the wind and rain.

_____

I could see one of the extraction doors. The emergency outdoor unlock lever would probably get me inside, but I would still have to get past Samson.

I threw a stick in the water. Samson took the bait and rose up to attack it, thinking it was an animal that landed in his pit. I used the opportunity to jump down from the tree, and run.

I dashed towards the extraction door, and pulled the lever as hard as I could. I loosened it, but couldn't get it all the way, and didn’t have a lot of time once Samson noticed what I was doing.

“Shit.” I said to myself before desperately trying to get to another tree. This time, I didn't make it; Samson ran up to me and got a hold of my leg.

“AHHH!” I shouted in pain. I then turned and stabbed him in the face with my box cutter. When it barely punctured his scales, I leaned in and got him in the eye.

That made him let go of me and retreat. I then crawled towards another tree, and once again pulled myself up to keep away from Samson.

___

The rain was getting worse; it was difficult to even see straight without focusing. I knew I needed to escape, and fast, or else I’d be a goner.

I jumped as far as I could, and dashed towards the gate. I pulled the lever, and this time I pulled all the way down. I then opened the hatch, and crawled inside.

I thought I was safe; I thought I could close the door, grab the emergency rifle, and get to safety. But then, I tried to shut the hatch, desperately hoping that I had escaped Samson. But then, right as I was closing the door, something blocked it. A snout blocked it.

“Shit.” I muttered to myself as Samson muscled his way into the room.

I didn’t have time to grab the rifle. Instead, I quickly opened one of the room’s gator kennels, and slid myself inside. Those things could hold alligators up to nine feet long, so I had enough room. Samson tried banging on the glass, but he couldn’t get to me.

And just when I thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, water began draining in from the hatch. The storm was creating a flood in the pit, a flood that was spilling over into the extraction room.

____

I waited for what felt like an eternity. I truly don’t know if it was two minutes or twenty, at that point, my brain was going a million miles an hour. I finally got grounded again when Brennan walked in, distracted by his walkie talkie. “Shit, one of the extraction doors opened, the whole room is…”

“BRENNAN, STOP!” I shouted right before Samson bit into his leg.

There was nothing he or I could do to save him. Samson dragged him down, and began devouring him alive.

I burst out of the kennel, and ran to grab the rifle. “Son of a bitch.” I muttered to myself before firing at Samson.

I hit him in the back; I clearly hurt him, but not enough to kill. Samson then came back and charged at me; I crawled onto a table, and took another shot.

My shots were clearly hurting him, but he wasn’t dead yet. He then threw his body weight against the table, knocking me off of it.

He then charged at me, mouth wide open. But split seconds before he could reach me, I fired, and my shot landed right in his mouth. He then dropped on the floor, his face landing just inches from mine.

I then found the walkie talkie and radioed.

“Mr. Gutierez, it’s me, Samantha. I need help, my leg is real bad, call an ambulance.”

______

He ran down there to help me out of there. He did the best he could with our first aid kits while we waited on the paramedics. Thankfully, my leg wasn’t as bad as I thought, they told me I was gonna make a quick recovery.

I left Gatorworld at the end of the summer. I don’t have any ill will against the park; it was, after all, my decision to go for my watch. But I am glad that Samson is no more.

[hero-dwelling]

Once again, writing something based on a quick skim of Reddit...

I was not convinced by the final chapter with regard to the middle school students having ideas to go into careers other than Pro Hero work--and that is supposed to be inspiring compared to Izuku and his classmates in Chapter 1 all wanting to be Pro Heroes.

It bothers me because enough other stories in this series--and yes, admittedly, some of these are not from the manga directly but from light novels, spinoff manga, and the films and OVAs--show that there are people who had zero interest ever going into Pro Hero work and were delighted to have found careers outside of Pro Hero work.

It just comes across as shoddy writing, that, oh, now suddenly because of La Brava and Dr. Yoshida there are students interested in computer programming and medicine.

It's not that I don't get how this is realistic: numerous people will point out they did not consider a career in some field until someone made them aware of it, whether a mentor, a relative, a teacher, a classmate, or, yes, someone who got famous for that work. (That's its whole other problem: "Oh, so now people want to get into computers and medicine because other people got famous for it, not for the work itself?")

I know people like David Shield and Melissa Shield getting into the sciences owed as much to how impressed they were by Pro Heroes like All Might. I know that the point of the first and last chapters is to serve as bookends to hammer home just how much has changed in this world. But it still is bothersome to me that the change is not a person's own passion for that work, just trading off one celebrity status for another.

And as I was trying to say earlier, it bothers me because we already made this point repeatedly in this series: there are numerous people who had zero interest ever becoming a Pro Hero and were happy to either use their Quirk for other work (albeit, again, still towards helping Pro Heroes: David Shield as All Might's tech support, Makoto as Captain Celebrity's PR) or just had a fulfilling career and passion outside of anything anywhere close to Pro Hero work (the theme park manager in Team-Up Missions, Rody wanting to become a pilot). It just is a hollow detail pretending to be deep--of course there were always people who were inspired to pursue their passions into a career that had nothing to do with Pro Hero work, how else would a society have people doing other jobs that they actually enjoyed?

"I was not interested in going into art, or science, or medicine, or sales because Pro Heroes were so popular--but now that society has changed that assessment, I'm now super into the thing I already was passionate about!" That'd be like if in our real world we said, "I am really excited about talking about literature, but rather than going into teaching, because there are movie stars, I'm just going to have to be satisfied only pursuing a career in acting!" It's not that this isn't realistic or even believable; it's just missing a ton of steps, including that someone may just not have the talent or the passion for acting but have both for literature.

I know this reverses so much of Izuku's story--that a hero can come in any shape or form--but it also ignores that, yeah, some people are not cut out for a type of work, not due to ability but because they legitimately never were interested.

(And Team-Up Missions at least does share that message...Too bad it handles it so badly by having Bakugo be the oh-so-perfect never-does-anything-wrong character to preach a message that should not be coming out of his bullying, arrogant shitty mouth.)

And, yeah, I also get that this is supposed to support the still unbelievable claim the story makes that, if not for Quirks, this society already would be doing outer space travel. That makes sense when you remember that the arrival of Quirks also set back society due to instability caused by people who could not control their powers and villains like All For One; it makes less sense when you have the tech exceeding our own reality, creating advanced robots with impressive artificial intelligence, the support equipment being built, and, if this is a series insisting on being so close to our reality, the fact that we already have gone to space and, again, with all the technological advancements we have seen in this series that are far ahead of our own, of course these people in this setting already would be far ahead at exploring more of outer space, even if you want to believe they haven't progressed too much past where we are now so maybe only get just a little past Mars and aren't settling on other planets.

[fedorahead]

maybe we want things like disneyland for our kids because we want to make up for how shitty we make their daily lives

maybe we want it to make up for our shitty childhoods

maybe we need these artificially magical experiences because we work so hard to eradicate the naturally magic experiences in the names of safety and being busy and capitalism

i was watching a video on how living for the instagram photo ops makes kids not even able to see the magic in the real world. kids won't look under each leaf for fairies if the tooth fairy is giving them an easter basket of shit every time they lose a tooth.

and when you set the standards at hours or months of work for a payoff of a day, like extravagant expensive birthdays and themed parties with hired actors and novel experiences that cost hundreds or thousands of dollars, you're taking your kids even further from appreciating the beauty in the mundane.

i get it. we can't stand being bored or still. our culture pushes us to consume and we consume experiences. i'm a thrill seeker, who isn't these days? and we romanticize "living in the moment" as some sort of impulsive manic pixie dream.

but trying to live in the moment by creating moments where we feel alive is just trying to escape this moment for a more fun one. it's not living in the moment at all. it's running from it.

what do we teach our kids when we hype them up about things that don't happen often? we teach them that the shit that happens often is nothing to be hype about. and then, when it comes to learning what they like, finding hobbies and figuring out what brings them joy, what are they going to do? try and fail to recreate the high of disneyland? spend years depressed, thinking they're unable to feel joy or excitement when really they just don't remember how to recognize it

become just like us?

maybe it wasn't disneyland. maybe it was the ice cream truck. or the rare california rainstorm that shuts down the schools. maybe it's trips to europe. maybe it's expensive presents. maybe it's building up experiences that *should* be normal, like going to the park, but are so rare because you're so busy and tired and depressed that leaving the house becomes the equivalent of disneyland.

and then, pretty predictably, kids are dysregulated, bored, unsatisfied, and miserable; and consequently, poorly behaved. and they'll grow up to be just as miserable as us.

we overstimulate kids with foods, too, it's why they won't eat varied diets. if nothing compares to pizza or ice cream, maybe the problem is pizza and ice cream

we want to give them a better experience than we had, but we're compensating for a hurt they haven't had yet

[shannis]

wolfe.

I have only allowed two people to break my heart down to tears.

Today I thought of the 2nd one. He was a coworker, a part time actor and stock images model (seriously). I had just been in the middle of a long break with another boyfriend, who was emotionally and physically abusive. I was breathing for the first time. I needed a friendly face, and some kind words.

We hung out on a whim, mostly out of strong mutual attraction. It was an awkward subway ride to his subleted room in a boarding house under a skyway. I was nervous, I was anxious, I worried I was too ugly or too weird. Two facts that plague my mind in every relationship since my 1st boyfriend broke my heart.

He was nice enough. We laughed all night and sang along to Wu Tang together, fell asleep watching Twin Peaks. It was all fun. It was my kind of date. Perfect and private.

A night I honestly needed after the years of shitty times I trying to get dates.

Then he confessed that "I'm the type of girl he always wanted and could fall in love with because I get him and it felt natural" to him" then he sang me "I think I love you." Was I flattered, yes, but that's it.

He was weed hungover so I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

It was our next date that he revealed that he was already in a poly amorous relationship with a girl whom he really loves. He told me how she is a rich nepotism baby, who spends her time as an actress in small budget movies (which he too starred). She was tall, thin, and blonde. (Running theme of my tortured love life is being told blondes are better).

I didn't want to share. I made me feel dishonest to myself. If thats how they loved, more power to you but I wanted the one. Someone who wanted all of me and gave me all of them. I wanted to be someone's everything.

At that point in my life, my live life was terrible. Only one guy in my whole life ever left me. The first one. Every one after the 1st was measured against him, as at that point I was still in love with him. I broke up with everyone else. I would never let anyone hurt me and I would never care about anyone that deeply again. I was ice, I was steel, I was a heartbreaker. Since no one lived up to the guy in my head, I was lonely. I agreed to date this new guy for a bit to fill the time and the void but all the while felt gross.

He would talk about seeing free concerts in the park. (I was never invited). He was talk about new restaurants, art galleries, markets, all these fun dates. None of which I was invited to. I offered up ideas and they feel flat and were never used.

I was just his plaything. His secret. When I asked him to come see my home he said "It's 3 rivers away, I don't know if you're worth that."

I hated him. I hated how he made me feel. I hated how little I was worth. I was depressed. The next and last date was an office outing before the whole team was let go. We went to Pig Beach. I watched him sort coke. I watched him hit on other girls and then look me and say "take that hurt look off your face, you know what this is." I watched him become his real self. I was disgusted who I saw. I was disgusted to be there.

We walked to his place in the hot, muggy air of Brooklyn in silence. I hate myself more than any other time of my life at that point. We went to his place, he half heartedly tried to be intimate but the coke backfired on him. I laid awake all that night on his bed, counting his ceiling tiles, looking at his books, feeling the gentle sway of the room as the cars drove overhead. I knew I would never be there again. I was taking it all in. Morning finally came, we at breakfast at the Sunrise Diner. It sucked and we ate in silence. He then proceeds to tell me how his dream girl and him are off to Mexico the next day for 2 weeks on her parent's dime. I feel sick, I wanted to go home. He walked me to the subway all the while with a stupid smirk on his face. He told me he would call me when he got home from Mexico and how he will think of me there. I told him not to bother and that I knew, I would never from him again. He laughed. Kissed my cheek and watched as I walked down the stairs all while with that stupid smirk painted on his face.

In that moment, I hated his face. I hated Brooklyn. I hated myself.

I started to cry, he saw me, and he just kept smirking. Nothing changed his mood. He watched me all the way down until I was out of sight.

I ugly cried on the subway and all the way home. I was crying for what I allowed myself to be used for. I cried for how low I sank. I cried for the guy that was a half world away and didn't know what his absence has done. I cried for the woman I became. I was broken that day, broken by hatred and self loathing.

I changed that day, I would never allow myself to be used again. To be the lesser, to be the other, to be nothing. I would always speak my truth and never suffer in silence again.

All thanks to a wolfe.

[imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper]

Tbh I just wish this had been executed better.

One, having a countdown to "Surprise, most of you won't be able to afford to watch our content anymore!" Feels cheap and tasteless. I know a lot of people, myself included would have been disappointed and maybe even still angry if the change was gradual, but yes, putting some of the more expensive to produce stuff behind a Patreon paywall would have been a better move. Yes, I know that means no more Ghost Files but I feel like it would have gotten less hate than this.

Two, this isn't Dropout. It just isn't. Its a Dropout that feels a lot less planned out. I don't know how to explain it, it would have felt more like Dropout if this was like half of their section of Buzzfeed coming together to make something, not like three guys. IDK, maybe I'm missing nuance on why this is being used to defend this move so often. People are also pointing to the lack of content and how its not going to be worth it to pay for a streaming service, unlike Dropout, and I think they could fix that, but it's going to take time, and way more budget than they're going to be seeing from this right away to do that! Three, this is the most like out of touch fan take I guess. But I don't really want more "Big budget" shit. I'm glad they're feeling creative freedom, and I don't want them to feel tied to making the same stuff forever but I know most of us are here for like three shows mainly. I know traveling is expensive as hell, and I want everyone to be fairly paid for stuff like that, but literally they don't seem to be scrapping for cash. Like I guess that's an out of touch take but it seems so wrong to brag about how often you visit theme parks and LA living and owning a Tesla and then turn around and ask for more. I really would be fine if they scaled down production value. Do a local season of Ghost Files where they stick to California, that would be cool. IDK. Also. I don't want to keep making the same shitty point. But I feel like I would have more sympathy here if it weren't for all the shitty sketchy sponsors. Betterhelp, Surfshark TEMU??? shit that has been proven to be either sketchy or straight up scams? They got sponsored by the fucking state of Montana and you're telling me they couldn't afford to be a little more careful than that? 5, the PR that seems to be happening right now is so bad. Like it seems very obvious to me the idea was to go ahead and delete/private all of Watcher's old content, or place it behind a paywall as well to further incentive to subscribe to the service. I don't want to think that, but it really does look like they're trying to walk it back after the backlash. If it was a mistake or poorly worded several times over I would hope that someone is reading through their shit before they post like a company breaking announcement like this. 6, I know this is honest to god none of my business. I know I know I know. I wish them the best, and I hope to god this doesn't burn because I don't want to see independent creators fail but I really just wish this would have been handled better or with a shred of dignity at all.