#romanticslimecreature

I think I'd probably adopt from a shelter. I like quiet and friendly cats, but there's nothing wrong with being talkative and friendly. I don't care about the breed too much, although I would probably prefer long-hair, because I don't want to clean up hair all the time. (When I was a child I had a black and white shorthair cat, and he was wonderful, but I wish I'd gotten him when he was a kitten so I wouldn't have to cut his hair later.)

I would not get two cats together because they are very vulnerable to stress in general, and especially to medical issues and things like that. You can take them to the vet together, yes, but not to the ER.

I would not get a cat that was too old — around 8-12, preferably — because it's always hard for older pets to adjust to new environments, and it wouldn't be great to have a new cat that was like the pet of a deceased older owner.

If I had a cat, I would probably name it something like "Dark" or "Neutral" or just plain "Cat," to emphasize its similarity to a predator with no sentience (and thus that it was just an animal with no thoughts or feelings) — "just an animal" is something that every pet owner needs to repeat to themselves constantly, and it seems like a cat would need it more than other kinds of animals.

"Things you said when you thought I was asleep."

John still felt nervous whenever Arthur fell asleep. He knew full well by now that Arthur needed to sleep, that it wasn't any secret the poor man could use a moment's rest now and then. And it wasn't Arthur being asleep that worried John, but the way Arthur fell still. The way his pulse and breathing slowed and how his vision went dark as he drifted off. Every single time it happened, there was a sinking feeling where John guessed the pit of his own stomach would be, if he had one. And it scared him.

Every single time, he was reminded of every moment he'd felt the life slip out of Arthur's body. Of every round of Arthur's last words.

"You and me both."

"Faroe."

"Goodbye, John."

The fear and desperation in Arthur's voice at every one of these moments echoed through John's mind in a way that almost made him feel sick.

Back on the boat, after the island, with Arthur shot and bleeding out on the deck, John had said he would meet Arthur in the Dark World in an effort to comfort him. And he knew they were safe now, that the worst of it was over and they could finally just live, but every time Arthur slipped off into sleep, John couldn't help but think of those words he'd said. That promise he'd made. The promise that he would be waiting for Arthur, that Arthur wouldn't have to be trapped all alone- because John knew firsthand how horrible it was to be without company in a place like that. He'd spent centuries- lifetimes longing for some kind of reassurance that he wasn't alone, that there was someone left for him to rely on, someone left for him to get close to. That there was a life left to live, and one worth living. That there was something he could hold onto, no matter the cost.

John often found himself wondering if they would have even wound up in the same exact place, or if he'd have been made a liar. There were many paths in the Dark World, after all. He tried to tell himself that what mattered was the fact that, in that moment, he had been nothing but sincere.

And usually, John would relax once Arthur had been asleep for a while, using the hours of the night to reflect on their time together and rest in his own way. But there was something about this night that kept him on edge, even as Arthur dozed peacefully, completely unbothered by the world around him.

"I would have run to you, Arthur." John said the words softly, carefully. Almost like he was afraid of them. "I would have wrapped you in my arms and held you until the end of time. I would have stayed with you until- until the worlds fell to pieces and the light went out for good."

John moved his hand- their hand- over Arthur's chest, and tried not to think of the scars that lay beneath the thin fabric of his sleep shirt. He always made a point to keep his touch below Arthur's collarbone, not wanting to even chance his fingers brushing over the scar that ran across Arthur's throat. John's voice wavered as he continued. "Until every path had crumbled and there was nothing left of us but a whisper of the notion that we had ever even existed. You wouldn't have been alone."

He hadn't noticed the way Arthur had stirred until his groggy, sleep-addled voice sounded in the stillness of their bedroom. "I believe you," Arthur breathed, shifting to curl up on his side. He hugged their left arm close to his chest.

"I'm s-" John started, a sense of guilt settling in on him once he realized he'd woken Arthur up.

"No," Arthur slowly shook his head against his pillow. "Don't be."

"I-... How much-"

"Don't worry about it," Arthur mumured, doing his best to fight back a yawn.

John sighed, his fingers curling into a loose fist around the front of Arthur's shirt. "I don't ever want to lose you again."

There was a confidence mixed in with the drowsiness of Arthur's tone. "You won't."

John knew the words that were about to leave him were the most selfish ones he could have possibly said, but he couldn't stop himself. "Swear it."

Another yawn crept up on Arthur- one that got the better of him this time. He shifted again under the covers, groaning softly as he did, and then fell still once more. For a moment, John was convinced he wasn't going to respond.

Until Arthur's voice cut through the silence of the room one last time, just barely above a whisper.

I'm cool??? kicking my legs and giggling.

Hey Slime! Thanks for the ask friend!!!

So although I answered the part of this one about movies and tv shows, (which is here!) I'll didn't talk about video games, so I'll answer that!

peppermint cappuccino— what’s your favorite genre of movie, tv show, or video game and why?