#(instead of writing - she took over my brain and now I am just thinking things)

[lausticzt-a]

laura won't die for her comrades. she won't sacrifice herself. and when you first hear that of her, she sounds awful. cowardice. she does herself no justice in correcting it either. but if you fought with her then you know. it's not that she won't fight, she is the first one to demand she takes action, if you're even lucky enough to get a warning. in the corps, her captain would advise of the situation, and instead of heeding warning, she'd think; those obstacles just have to die, and the problem is solved. and she'd pull on the reigns of her horse and go. and what was once an intense worry for her unit instead became frustration that she just couldn't obey orders. she'd be yelled at the first few times. 'you have a death wish'. no, I just know I'd win.

she will fight for her comrades. she will take on any dangerous obstacle that stands in their way. but she won't view or act like it's risking her life, even when it is. she isn't giving you time, isn't saving the rest, she's 'going to take down all those obstacles in their way. because she will win. they won't defeat her.' it's not mindless arrogance, not that she's perfectly capable; her strength comes from that defiance to lose, and it's what led to those refined skills during her cadet days and survey corp days. she's a perfectionist, so she trained intensely to get everything precise; her body isn't built for physical combat, so she had to learn to adapt around it. the moment she sets her mind on something nothing could pull her away from it.

the one nice thing about laura is that she won't die on you. if you tell her to die for humanity, she'll tell you she won't. she'll live and fight instead. once she looks at something and tells herself, I have to win. there's not much you can do to stop her. she can't even stop herself. in turn, she also doesn't want people dying for her. she won't let you. if you get hurt because of her, she won't leave you alone for days. she is responsible for you now; even as she criticizes you for being stupid and that she doesn't need your protection. she sees her own life as important because it's her life, but when other people also feel that way with her it's overwhelmingly different that she doesn't know what to do with that information and ultimately appears like a prissy prick.

[gghostwriter]

hi dear author! how are you?

I have a request for Spencer where reader has a head injury and passes out and Spencer's reaction to it and the aftermath. I found your fic around 15 mins ago and I'm in love with them<3

Thank you!!

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Fluff! Just fluff Warning: Medical inaccuracies A/N: I’m sensing a pattern with the request writing I’m doing—most of them deal with a head injury of some sort but I am having fun trying to make it different the the earlier works. No further editing was done but I hope you enjoy it! Main masterlist

Bundle of Nerves. // Spencer Reid

The bright and playful disposition of your kindergarten students was one of things you looked forward to every Monday. How each student would go up to you to chatter about how their weekend went—family went to the park or to the library or to the beach—and how in return, they’ll ask if you also enjoyed the weekend as much as they did. 

But something seemed off today, you really couldn’t specify where it all started. Maybe it was you falling back to sleep after your alarm went off, or maybe it was you missing breakfast, or maybe it was just all of the above. 

Either way, everything was going sideways and it was just about to get worse. The lights seemed darker, the children’s voices were distorted, and the room was starting to sway. Feeling the need to sit down, you were only able to take a couple of steps to your desk before promptly fainting—smacking your forehead on the floor and the children screaming for help.

———

Spencer wasn’t one to wish for a case to land on JJ’s desk but at 1:30pm on a Monday, he found himself twiddling his thumbs and calculating his rocket launches using his expansive brain capacity—all paper filings done and submitted early. He swiveled to face Morgan who was caught red handed about to throw a paper clip in his direction. 

“Hey Kid,” he cleared his throat, trying to act nonchalantly. “You done with your paperwork?”

“Yeah, now I’m thinking of how to improve my rocket magic. Hey do you think if I add more—” 

The vibration of his phone on the table interrupted his sentence. His eyebrows furrowed as he took in the unregistered number. Curious but definitely wary, he pressed ‘accept’.

“Hi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Who is this?”

A female voice answered. “Hi Dr. Spencer Reid, I’m calling from Virginia State Hospital. Y/N had you listed down as her emergency contact. She was admitted—”

The remaining information all sounded muffled. His breathing was spiking up and all he could hear now was the rapid staccato beating of his heart. He couldn’t think straight. Is this what unknowing family members of victims feel when they receive a distress call? Like the rug was pulled under their feet? He couldn’t comprehend what to do, how to—

“Dr. Reid, are you still there?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes—yes, I’ll be there soon.”

Before the voice could say another word, he ended the call, was out of his desk, and up the steps to his unit chief’s office, SSA Aaron Hotchner. 

“Reid, what is it?” the stern BAU leader clocking in the distress painted on the genius’ face.

“I-it’s Y/N. She was admitted at hospital and—”

He nodded. “Go, Reid. I’ll explain to the team and HR.”

With a quick ‘thank you’, he ducked out of the bullpen to the elevator, grateful that he opted to drive to Quantico today rather than take his usual train route.

Maybe he should have borrowed the government owned SUV instead, he thought to himself when he turned to the main road and saw the congestion. Hotch would have understood, he just wasn’t sure how to explain that in paperwork but this counted as an emergency, right? It felt like a life or death situation to him—for him and for you. 

When he exited the bottleneck traffic, Spencer wanted to floor the gas. His foot itched to stomp on the accelerator and worry about the fines later. But the idea of getting caught, being pulled over, and wasting more precious seconds away from your side was enough for him to second guess it—that and his tight white knuckle grip on the steering wheel. 

He should have asked for more information over the phone call but the second his mind registered the words, it went to overdrive and out of the window—his emotions were running high and clouding every logical thought possible. He had an IQ of 187 but all he could think of was you. You, the love of his life. You, his fiancee, lying down on a hospital bed, alone and unconscious. Any man, no matter how smart they are, would react the same way he did when it involves a loved one.

He parked his car at the first slot he could find in the hospital parking lot and ran straight to the reception.

“I’m looking for Y/N. She was admitted a while ago. I-I’m her fiancee.” Spencer hurriedly introduced himself.

The nurse nodded once, stating your floor and room number. Without so much as an acknowledgement, he ran to the nearest elevator and willed it to open any faster.

Spencer felt like he ran a marathon by the time he found your room and seeing you there, lying on your bed—conscious, thank god—took a little weight off his chest. He breathed out your name in relief. “What happened? Did you—did you hit your head?”

Your hand gingerly touched the bandage on your forehead. “I think so. I started to feel faint so I was walking back to my chair. I must have hit my head on my way down—”

He took your hands into his, kissing it. “You had me so worried. Did the doctor say anything? Diagnosis? Cause? Treatment?”

“No. When I came to, only a nurse was here. She left to page the doctor but it’s okay—I feel fine now.”

Spencer opened his mouth, no doubt to chide you about minimizing your pain and health, but then the doctor walked in with a clipboard on hand.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Smith. How are we feeling?”

“She said she was feeling faint before she hit her head. Does she have a concussion? Why did she feel faint—was it stress? Hypoglycemia? Labyrinthitis? Vertebrobasilar insufficiency?” Spencer rattled off.

 “Well, your husband sure knows medical terminology. Are you a Doctor too?” the physician asked.

Spencer’s brows met in between, finding the whole interaction off-putting. Here he was about to have a nervous breakdown and your doctor was as calm as a cucumber. “Fiancee, actually, and yes Doctor, 3 Phds not MD.”

“Impressive, and to answer your questions, Doc. None of the above.” 

His eyes widened. “Then it could be hypo—” 

Dr. Smith smiled and shook his head. “It’s not that either.” He reached into his clipboard, removing a prescription pad, and quickly jotting down medicine. “Here you go. She’ll need to take a capsule a day and I suggest a healthy balanced meal, exercise, and plenty of bed rest.”

Spencer’s eyes widened when he realized what the chicken scratch handwriting said. 

“What—what is it?” You asked in worry as Spencer seemed to have glitched.

The doctor grinned at you.“Congratulations, you’re pregnant.” 

Silence. 

“I-I’m what?!” 

The doctor chuckled. “You’re 3 weeks along so you’re still in the early stages. Your body is still adjusting—the fainting spell was caused by change in your hormones and low blood pressure. I suggest you schedule an appointment with your OB/GYN as soon as possible and get ample rest—” he looked at the couple once more before exiting the room. “—congratulations, again.”

The tears that started to gather in your eyes seemed to bring Spencer back to life. “Oh love, are those—are those happy tears or—?” 

You nodded. “Happy tears, Spence. I can’t believe it!” 

He reached out to hug you to his chest. “I love you, Y/N. You make me feel like the luckiest man in the world.” 

You giggled. “I guess we have to tell your team about the baby genius on board, huh?” 

He laughed, remembering how Emily once asked him if he ever planned on having one and here he was about to become a father. 

You gasp, causing him to lean back and look at you with worry—did he hug you too tight? Did you feel— 

“I’m not going to fit in my wedding dress by then! Penny will have a fit! She had this vision and—” 

He leaned down to interrupt your ramblings. 

“I’m sure she’ll forgive you, especially if you're turning her into an aunt.”

You smiled, peering through your eyelashes. “Y’know we might have to find a new apartment soon. Just imagining how much shopping Penny would do for our baby genius even before he or she is born is making me shudder.”

He laughed. “Me too, love. Me too.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[annebaby]

hello all! its summer break, so hopefully i will stay motivated to write. one of my friends helped me come up with this idea, so i hope you like!!

warnings: fingering (r receiving), kissing, biting, public sex

divider from here!

coffee shop 

college english - absolutely horrific. i’ve gotten a new essay assignment every week, each one being over a topic that was far too complex to make sense of. however, i had aced all of them. 

so this week, i was fully prepared to ace another essay. my brain had been working overtime trying to predict the upcoming topic. 

i travelled to the college’s local coffee shop, looking forward to my headphones, an iced matcha, and a few hours of pure focus. 

i entered the shop, finding a seat tucked in the back corner. i set my stuff down and went up to order, feeling my phone vibrate while i was waiting for my drink. 

it was an email from my professor with this weeks essay assignment. 

“how do you challenge yourself to let go of things stopping you from being independent?” 

what the fuck?

normally, this would be an easy topic. an easy answer to a simple question. but right now - it wasn’t. 

i had just gotten over a fresh breakup with my now-ex girlfriend, kate martin. it was hard enough seeing her as the poster athlete all over campus, being reminded of her looming residence in my heart. 

however, i recently had begun to work on myself and forgetting all the memories we had once shared. our breakup was civil, but the constant gossip of every recent hookup she had was like a dagger to the heart. 

i prayed this assignment wouldn’t bring up all those feelings again. it was hard enough to get to where i was now. countless nights of crying to my roommates, eating junk food, drinking, etc. had gotten me to where i was now. i was happy. 

that was until i saw my english assignment. 

“iced matcha latte!” the barista called out. 

i walked up to the counter, thanking her before sitting back down in my corner and opening my laptop. i put on my headphones, taking a deep breath before locking in and starting to write. 

i wrote for what seemed like hours. i wrote about how i had gotten over my recent breakup by working out, giving myself time, and hanging out with friends (minus the excessive drinking). it was hard not to think about her blonde hair sprawled across my pillows when she would stay over. it was hard not to think about the way she would kiss me after she won a game. it was hard not to - wait, no. 

i wasn’t doing this again. i couldn’t do this again. 

i took my headphones off and paused my music, taking a break from the writing. i looked up and noticed how crowded the coffee shop had actually gotten. people had been piling in, and now it was almost full. 

the line was at least 7 people long, each one talking to another person with them. i smiled to myself, feeling happiness radiating throughout the cafe. 

until i saw that blonde hair. it wasn’t cascading over my pillows though. it was falling onto the shoulder of the girl she had brought with her. kate martin and the new mystery girl of the week, who would’ve guessed?

i scowled at the sight of them, anger filling my veins to distract me from my jealous, sad feelings. i wanted that to be me. that SHOULD be me. 

fuck, why am i like this? 

i pop my headphones back on my head, resuming the music with the volume all the way up. i try to ignore her presence, acting like i simply never saw her at all. its easier that way. i don’t want to see her doting on another new girl. 

i regain my focus on my essay, but this time the words aren’t coming out as easily. instead, i was re-typing all my sentences. each word was filled with hate and anger, reflecting my feelings in this situation. 

frustrated, i look up across the shop, immediately catching kate already staring at me. 

god. 

i quickly look away, pausing my music and heading to the restroom. i shut the door behind me, looking at my reflection in the mirror. all i see is a women who is defeated. a woman who is tired, angry and upset. 

before i let the tears fall, i put my face in my hands. im squeezing my face, gently tugging on my own hair, and sighing out of anger. my leg starts subconsciously bouncing up and down, my anger starting to physically course through me.

the door opens. i turn my head to see the very person causing me to be this way. 

kate notices me completely disheveled, locking the door behind her. 

“hey, are you okay?” she asks. her hand reaches for my shoulder, but i stand back.

“im fine,” i say, trying to push my way past her back out to my laptop, my sanctuary. 

but, she won’t let me pass. instead, she picks me up and sets me onto the bathroom counter, standing between my legs. i look away, not being able to look her in the eyes with tears now generously streaming down my cheeks. 

“you’re not fine,” she says, cautiously wiping my tears. i swat her hand away.

“what makes you think you’re still allowed to touch me? talk to me like this?” i bawl.

i hop off the counter, now standing in front of her. 

“go back to this week’s fuck and leave me alone,” i head for the door, but i’m stopped as kate grabs my wrist and pulls me back around to face her, unbearably close. 

“please, just talk to me,” kate pleads. 

i squeeze my eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain flooding throughout my head. 

i look up at her, tears still falling down my face. 

“you’re such an assho-

i’m cut off by kate’s hands on either side of my face, pulling me in for a sweet, hungry kiss. my hands hover over her, surprise engulfing me as i struggled to comprehend what was happening. 

she pulled back, looking at me between my eyes. she was desperately trying to assess my reaction. 

a moment of boldness was all it took for me to lose all control, and there was no need for her to assess when my hands reached her waist and pulled her into me. i smashed my lips to hers, her hands gripping my ass. 

i groaned into her and she uses her opportunity to invade my mouth. taken aback, i stumble backwards until my ass is against the sink of the restroom.

“jump,” she whispers.

i suddenly realize how unfortunate this situation is - making out with my ex girlfriend in a coffee shop while she’s out with another girl. 

its almost as if kate sees the realization cross my face when she says, ”its fine, its fine," against my neck. her voice gives me chill bumps, flashbacks to our previous encounters flashing through my mind.

her fingers are toying with the waistband of my shorts, dipping in and out teasingly. i feel her lips moving and nipping at my neck, no doubt leaving marks for me to discover later - kate’s signature move.

i whined her name, practically begging for her to slip her fingers in me. she smirked against my skin. i hated being so needy, but kate loved to tease. i could not handle that right now.

“please kate, please,” i whispered. 

“what do you want?” she breathed.

her stupid pride. her stupid ego. had i really forgotten the way she’d make me beg for her? i laughed. 

“you don’t deserve to hear me beg.”

i grab her wrist and move her fingers to my center, immediately feeling her fingers tense at my wetness. 

i grab her shoulder with my free arm, my forehead digging into her neck. her fingers started tracing circles on my most sensitive spot, causing me to bite her shoulder to keep myself from moaning. in response, i feel two of her fingers dive into me, curling and straightening as she fucks me with them. i lift my head up to look at her face, her eyes looking downward between us the whole time. 

“fuck,” i whisper. i feel myself coming undone, seeing her that focused on the connection between us was sending me over the edge.

she smiles and meets my eyes quickly. 

“c’mon, you can do it,” she breathes. she leans forward and takes my bottom lip in between her lip, tugging on it. i felt the tightness in my stomach loosen. 

kate breathed out as if she had been holding a breath this entire time. she helped me finish out my high, before sticking her fingers in her mouth, licking them clean of me. 

she stands in front of me, unphased. meanwhile, i’m heaving, my legs shaking and cramping. i look at her, my face puffy from my previous crying.

and we just start laughing. i hop off the counter, standing on my tip toes to give her a quick kiss. this felt like old times, our feelings felt like they had never left.

“tell your whore that i’m back,” i whisper. 

her eyes widen in amusement, her hands finding a resting spot on my waist. 

“i’ll be at your place later so we can talk about… this.” i motion back and forth between us.

i leave her grasp and walk back out in the coffee shop, returning to my laptop. smiling to myself, i read the essay that i had so effortlessly typed out. i delete the entire thing before closing my laptop. 

i couldn’t write about being independent after my ex girlfriend had ruthlessly fucked me in the coffee shop bathroom. 

[serqphites]

HEAR ME OUT….

Lee harker x single mom!reader 🤯🤯🤯🤭🤭🤭

STOP BC I COULDN’T IGNORE THIS UNTIL TOMORROW (yes it’s 2:40 while i’m writing this rn) you have given me such bad brain rot with this 😭

—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—

okay so let’s say you have a daughter around the age of 3. things had been rough before meeting lee, life pretty much being put on hold for you as you couldn’t go anywhere without your child.

you met lee in your local store, just minding your business when your daughter decides it’s time to play matchmaker!

despite calling for her as she runs and runs further away from you, she still doesn’t listen until she finds herself hiding behind a very stiff lee harker’s leg.

girly is stressed LMAOOO, like where the hell has this random child come from and oh my god why is her mother so beautiful??

“oh my god i am so sorry!” you’re trying your best to remove your daughter from lee’s leg, but apparently your child has super strength and forgot to tell you.

“no no-“ GULP, “you’re fine” you’d honestly think someone was holding her at gunpoint and forcing her to smile, why is she just showing off her teeth instead of smiling with them?

i can SMELL her gay panic.

once your daughter eventually lets go, you continue apologising profusely as you begin walking away.

“wait!” lee calls out, her voice shaky. she does an awkward little jog over to you, her arm extended towards you as she waves a small elephant teddy in the air.

oh yeah that’s when you decided to get her number. the baywatch jog to hand deliver the toy to you reallyyyy did it.

fast forward a few months and things are going great! lee comes over every friday after clocking out and doesn’t leave until she has to. your weekend sleepovers are consistently the highlight of her week.

she’s definitely… interesting when it comes to your daughter.

“sooo, this is your room.”

and your kids just sat in her bed like “ya.”

yeah you dragged her out of there. “lee you don’t need to talk to her like she’s a suspect, just be normal”

“that was me being normal” and she hits you with the :/

she defo sends you money for stuff like sitters and daycare to help with your part time job. it also frees you up for date nights!

(lee keeps tabs on the babysitter and every single person who works in the daycare your daughter attends, she came to stand on business)

when things start to get really serious between you two, lee decides to move you into her cabin! this cutie even changed her study into the cutest little forest themed nursery you’ve ever seen.

“lee it’s perfect! thank you” you’re literally on the verge of sobbing and she’s just stood in the doorway like 🧍‍♀️🙂

lee does become better around your kid, acting more loving towards her and not being as afraid of her LMAO

also she’s so fucking overprotective.

lee never asked why you were a single mother, she didn’t really think it was her place. it took you quite a while to open up to her about it, her holding you as you finally let out all of your emotions for the first time since falling pregnant. men fucking suck.

NSFW:

jumping straight into it, it turns her on so much that you’re a single mother.

i can picture her sat at her desk that’s now in the corner of your bedroom, her fingers hooked into the loop of your jeans as words of adoration spill from her lips.

“i think you’re so strong”, “it’s so hot that you did that all by yourself”, “you’re so amazing”.

before you know it she’s trailing kisses down your stomach, one hand coming up to rub the center of your chest as the other undoes your belt buckle…

[richonnesbitch]

Hey everyone! Here's chapter 1 of a fanfic I wrote about what would have went down had we gotten a bridge wedding in season 9. It's been wracking my brain forever so I just had to write it. If everyone likes it, I'll post chapter 2!

Rick marveled at the ring in his hand. Not only was the ring itself perfect, but the timing itself was. There was about a week's time before the bridge was completed and Rick was hoping to marry her on that exact day. His dream was about to come true.

He placed a hand on Gabriel's shoulder, giving it squeeze. "Thank you, Gabriel."

Gabriel smiled. "Congratulations, Rick. When are you going to propose?"

"Soon. Tonight. As soon as possible."

"Well, good luck.", Gabriel replied earnestly.

Rick smiled and nodded. "I want us to have the wedding the day the bridge is completed."

"You're gonna plan a wedding in only a week?"

Rick let out a chuckle. "I've been planning this for months."

Gabriel chuckled with him. "Okay, Rick. Good luck."

Rick pocketed the ring as he walked home, plotting the entire way on how he should make his move. He'd been so focused on the wedding itself he didn't even think on how he'd propose. And now he only had a week to do it. Heat took over his body as the jitters started to kick in.

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

As Michonne walked into her home the smell of candles, spaghetti, and garlic bread overtook the room. Surprise grew on her face as she looked around the room. "Rick?"

"Hey." He was standing at the kitchen table pouring two glasses of red wine. He had a huge smile on his face and his eyes were as bright as the sun.

She begin to smile as well. "What's all this about?"

"Just supper. Hope you're hungry."

"I am. Where's Judith?"

"Rosita offered her to stay the night. I thought me and you could have some time to ourselves." He pulled out a chair, gesturing for her to take a seat.

She knew he was up to something and she had a good idea of what it was but felt excited to see how this played out. She happily took her seat with Rick taking the chair next to her.

"This looks amazing.", she complimented the food, taking a bite of it. She nodded her head. "It is."

Rick was staring, still smiling at her. "Glad you like it." He grabbed her hand, using his thumb to rub her fingers. "How was your day?"

The two continued to talk as they ate. "Good. The garden is thriving, even more than last month. No one's sick in the infirmary right now. Alexandria's doing good."

Rick nodded his head. "Yeaaah. I knew you'd take good care of this place."

"We are taking care of place.", she firmly corrected him.

"Mmm... It's mostly you. I just wanted to say... you're doing an amazing job. And I really appreciate it. Thank you for everything that you do.", Rick complimented her sincerely. And he truly meant every word. He was so beyond grateful for this woman he felt like he couldn't find the words to express it. There were not words strong enough to show his appreciation for her. But he sure tried.

Every word hit her hard, sending tingles throughout her body. His voice did things to her when he spoke softly with his rough, southern drawl.

She decided to take the compliment. She had been working very hard lately and it was nice to feel appreciated. He always knew how to make her feel seen. "Thank you, Rick.", she responded with a hand squeeze. "What about you? How was your day?"

He still had that smile on his face, while also looking kind of sweaty. "Great. Really great. The bridge should be completed in about a week."

"Rick, that's amazing. We should do something to celebrate! Us, the rest of the communities."

Rick shook his head in agreement. "Yeah, I was thinking the same." That was the end of his sentence but it seemed like there was something else he wanted to say. Instead he said, "you don't like the wine?"

"Oh, sorry. I just... don't like the taste of wine and spaghetti."

"Let me get you some water then." He let go of her hand to get up but she tightened her grip.

"I can get it."

Rick laughed. "Let me.", he softly demanded. Michonne released his hand and he swiftly moved to fetch her a glass. "You want ice?"

"Sure."

She watched lovingly as he opened the freezer and grabbed a few cubes out the tray, dropping them into her water. He could feel her eyes on him. "So, this celebration thing... Kingdom will come, Hilltop will come. We can all bring some food. Maybe Eugene can be a DJ, you know since he's handy with that stuff. I'm sure he has all types of CD's, tapes, and whatnot. " He walked back to the table, setting her glass next to her plate and taking his seat again.

"You've got this all planned out, huh?"

He grinned. "Yeah, I guess."

"So when are we doing all this?"

"The night the bridge is complete."

"Have you talked to everyone else about this yet?"

"Well, a little bit. Not in detail. But I don't see why they wouldn't. This would be good for all of us."

"Well, you should talk to them as soon as possible since it's only a few days away."

"Yeah, I'll do that. But..." His voice became slightly shaky.

"But what?"

"I wanted to go over it with you first." He looked down, seemingly unable to meet her eyes. "Michonne... I've had this on my mind a while now. This bridge is the start of something new. It really feels like everything is finally coming together. All the communities coming together like this... this world was broken. And here you are putting the pieces back together. If anyone could do it, it's you." Suddenly he rose out of his chair and bent down on one knee pulling a ring out of the breast pocket of the plaid shirt he was wearing. "You are the love of my life. I love you so, so much. I'm yours till the day I die. Will you marry me?" Michonne could see his chest puffing up and down.

Her eyes begin to well up with tears. Slowly she joined him on his knees, taking both of his hands in hers. "If you would have told me all that time ago that we ended up here, I would have never believed you. I still can't believe it. I love you so much, Rick. You're my one true love. Of course I'll marry you."

Michonne felt Rick's cold wet tears trickle down his face as she pulled him in for a deep kiss. As they pulled away, the pair begin to laugh.

Quietly Rick stood up, taking Michonne's hand again. "Come on.", he whispered, guiding her upstairs to their bedroom. She continued to giggle.

The couple ravished one another as the night went on, just completely enjoying themselves together without a care in the world. They fought so long, so hard for simple moments like these and now their time had finally came. Nothing was gonna keep this from them ever again. Nothing and no one. To them, this was everything. They had the rest of their lives to spend together and not a single moment would go by unappreciated... least of all this one.

After a very long, very pleasureful night exhaustion started to consume them. As daylight slowly crept up on them, they decided it was time to finally get some rest.

"So. You're taking my last name, right?"

Michonne chuckled. "Yes, baby. I'm taking your last name."

Rick softly smiled, placing a tiny kiss on her shoulder as they laid cuddling in their bed. "Good."

[vickyvicarious]

Letters van Helsing has now read:

9 May - "I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely [...] I shall try to do what I see lady journalists do: interviewing and writing descriptions and trying to remember conversations. I am told that, with a little practice, one can remember all that goes on or that one hears said during a day. [...] I have just had a few hurried lines from Jonathan from Transylvania. He is well, and will be returning in about a week."

24 August - "I found my dear one, oh, so thin and pale and weak-looking. All the resolution has gone out of his dear eyes, and that quiet dignity which I told you was in his face has vanished. He is only a wreck of himself, and he does not remember anything that has happened to him for a long time past. [...] ...after saying that she could never mention what my poor dear raved about, added: 'I can tell you this much, my dear: that it was not about anything which he has done wrong himself; and you, as his wife to be, have no cause to be concerned. He has not forgotten you or what he owes to you. His fear was of great and terrible things, which no mortal can treat of.' [...] I have had a great shock, and when I try to think of what it is I feel my head spin round, and I do not know if it was all real or the dreaming of a madman. You know I have had brain fever, and that is to be mad. The secret is here, and I do not want to know it. [...] I took the book from under his pillow, and wrapped it up in white paper, and tied it with a little bit of pale blue ribbon which was round my neck, and sealed it over the knot with sealing-wax, and for my seal I used my wedding ring. Then I kissed it and showed it to my husband, and told him that I would keep it so, and then it would be an outward and visible sign for us all our lives that we trusted each other; that I would never open it unless it were for his own dear sake or for the sake of some stern duty."

17 September - "Jonathan wants looking after still. He is beginning to put some flesh on his bones again, but he was terribly weakened by the long illness; even now he sometimes starts out of his sleep in a sudden way and awakes all trembling until I can coax him back to his usual placidity."

18 September - "But it is here that the grave shock that he experienced tells upon him the most. Oh, it is too hard that a sweet, simple, noble, strong nature such as his—a nature which enabled him by our dear, good friend's aid to rise from clerk to master in a few years—should be so injured that the very essence of its strength is gone."

He has also read Lucy's diary, the first entry of which (24 August) contains these lines: "I must imitate Mina, and keep writing things down. [...] Last night I seemed to be dreaming again just as I was at Whitby."

So, the impression he will have of the facts, upon writing his letter to Mina today, goes something like this:

Mina's then-fiance went to Transylvania and was supposed to return by around 16 May.

Instead, Mina found him terribly ill in a hospital in Budapest on 24 August, about three months later. He had been raving about great and terrible things, but could no longer recall them.

He had written a record of these things.

No one knows what is inside his record, but Mina has possession of it.

He is still fragile/slowly recovering.

Mina was with Lucy on Whitby, where Lucy was likely first attacked.

Mina kept a thorough record of those days.

So his goal in asking to speak to Mina is likely to try and get access to her journal from Whitby, and Jonathan's journal as well if he can manage it (less directly linked but suspicious). Not knowing that she has already read Jonathan's journal, it probably feels like a huge ask (since she sealed it up with great deliberacy) and he probably expects her to have no knowledge of the significance of anything she remembers from Whitby either. No wonder he is so polite and apologetic in his letter.

[ragnarokhound]

((you don’t have to do both if you don’t want to, you can consider this one a back up / alt))

“If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.” 💞

From this writing prompt list i reblogged in...november lmao fljdsjfa

anyway this grew legs and sprinted away the second I picked it up yesterday - clearly it just needed some time to proof lmao. Thank you for the ask, tauria!! From *checks watch* almost 5 months ago fjdslafjsa I will be cross-posting it to Ao3 in my new oneshot collection fic :)

Warnings for: Vague allusions that Ra's Al Ghul is a creep (what else is new), threats of gun violence, canon-typical violence

15. “If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.”

When Tim arrived in Gotham this morning, he had no way of knowing that his day would end in Jason Todd’s bed. 

Frankly, he wasn’t really sure what bed he’d end up in— because his own certainly wasn’t an option right now. But If he had to pick, Jason Todd’s was somewhere near the bottom of whatever list he’d make.

He didn’t exactly plan on this, okay? 

But, uh. Let’s back up a little.

—

Tim knew his day was going to go to shit when he got back from the airport at 7 AM.

He had his driver drop him off two blocks away from his townhouse for the sake of caffeine at the hole in the wall place he likes. Wealthy CEO he may be, but a sixteen hour flight is still a sixteen hour flight and Tim is cursed with an inability to sleep in the air. 

Don’t ask. He’s tried. It doesn’t work.

So he wants coffee, and he wants a shower, and he wants his own bed. In that order.

With the first thing on his list acquired and blessedly burning his tongue, he managed to tug his brain cells together enough to realize that the building they’d passed that had been shrouded in tents and canvas was his building.

"What's going on here?"

The worker outside his building looks up from her clipboard, her face wrinkling into apprehensive confusion.

"Hello, sir. Can I help you?”

He hasn’t slept in roughly seventy two hours. He is not awake or patient enough for this.

“My name is Tim Drake. I own this building. What’s going on here?” He repeats.

The woman raises her eyebrows and looks down at her clipboard again. “Mr. Drake?” She questions, clearly expecting him to look like a grown-ass man and not a sleep-deprived college student coming home from spring break or whatever.

“Yes. Timothy Drake-Wayne. Why are you—” he tries to gesture with the hand still holding his suitcase handle, walking towards the tarps and tents erected around his townhouse with increasing trepidation, “—here?”

“I’m sorry sir, but you can’t go in there. Not for at least forty-eight hours.”

Tim stops in his tracks.

“Forty-eight—?”

“We've been scheduled to fumigate the property today.” She says it like she’s reading it out of a handbook. “It won't be safe to enter the building for at least forty-eight hours. You should have received prior notice. Uh. Sir.”

Tim's jet-lagged brain kicks into overdrive. 

Bruce hasn't made any disappointed noises about Tim’s perfectly normal work ethic lately so it probably wasn't a misguided attempt at benching him. And besides, rendering Tim’s apartment inaccessible is counterproductive on that front. 

Dick wouldn’t. They haven’t been exactly— great, lately but he wouldn’t. Besides, if he wanted to get Tim out of the house more, he’d show up to drag Tim out into the daylight himself. This is a little too roundabout for him.

It’s too much work to be Steph. She would think it’s funny, but there’s no way she’d follow through.

Damian might, but this doesn’t quite fit his preferred methods for making Tim’s life hell. It could be some cloak and dagger maneuver to leave him vulnerable, faking a complaint to the city so he’ll—

And then Tim thinks about the call.

The call he’d brushed off at fuck o’clock in the morning somewhere over Europe, too busy with another project. The call his secretary took for him instead. He thinks about the distracted confirmation he’d given to whatever it was she’d asked him about five minutes later. 

He also thinks about the form he signed about two weeks ago, before this last minute trip to Hong Kong had consumed his entire attention. The one with “Two Weeks Notice” stamped across the top. His stomach sinks.

“Today,” he repeats.

She looks apologetic. “Today,” she confirms. “And we just started about an hour ago. I’m very sorry, Mr. Drake-Wayne but—”

"No it's—" he says through gritted teeth, "fine. I'll just. Make other arrangements."

—

He does not make other arrangements. Though not for lack of trying.

Tim has a handful of safehouses scattered throughout the city. He has options. He gets a taxi to the closest neighborhood, and nearly falls asleep in the backseat. The cabby has to knock on the glass divider to get his attention when they come to a stop. He grumbles and hauls his suitcase out of the backseat, and tips the man excessively.

Shower. Bed. Sleep. He’s so close he could cry.

Except when he finally rolls around the block, coffee half gone and trying to remember if this safehouse is the one with in-unit laundry or if he’ll have to haul his shit down to the laundry room, his building is a blackened husk with police tape all around it.

He stops on the sidewalk. He peers up at the window of his unit, squinting at the peeling black wood and shattered glass. He ponders whether two is enough data points to be considered a pattern. And whether he could get away with napping in the alley on this street or if that’ll end with him stabbed and robbed.

As he’s pondering, he catches sight of a passerby and stops him.

“‘Scuse me,” he says apologetically. “What the hell happened here?”

The guy looks up from his phone and takes in his rumpled clothes, his suitcase, and the scorched remains of his apartment.

“Oh, uh. Yeah, there was a big fire about a week back? Bad fire. Took out, like, half the block. Cops are saying it’s arson.”

“A week ago,” Tim repeats. The guy’s eyes widen.

“Oh shit, bro, did you live here?”

“I’ve been out of town,” he explains numbly.

“Dude, that sucks. And right in the middle of con’ season. Good luck finding a hotel!”

“Yeah,” Tim sighs as the guy walks away. “Thanks.”

—

The next safehouse he tries isn’t in much better shape. 

He remembers hearing about Freeze going on a rampage a few days into his trip, but he hadn’t realized another one of his places had been caught in the cross-fire. The cold burst the pipes, and now the whole place is undergoing renovation.

He hears all this from the crotchety old lady who lives in the next building over (her building needs renovation too, but will the city pay for it? Of course not, they weren’t ‘directly impacted by disaster’ so they won’t see a penny of relief funds even though their pipes are on the same line. Typical) and when he finally extricates himself from the conversation, it’s almost noon, his second cup of coffee is long-since empty and he’s at the end of his goddamn rope.

By the time he sees his next safehouse, he isn’t even surprised anymore.

“Does God hate me?” He asks the boarded up building. “Is this a punishment? What did I do? What the fuck did I do?”

He is 99% sure at this point that someone is burning his bolt holes. There’s a short list of people with the resources and the intel to do it, and while he’s not above ruling out the likes of Damian just yet, he seriously doubts anyone wearing a bat is behind this. 

Besides, Dick would have noticed by now if Damian were sinking this many resources into convoluted covert ops designed to make Tim suffer. Definitely. Probably.

Fuck it.

He goes around the back and hops on top of his suitcase to reach the clunky camera watching the back entrance. This building is on the shittier side, closer to Crime Alley than his other haunts; cameras break all the time around here. He’ll have it replaced after he’s a functional human again.

Reportedly, this building was tagged for ‘high toxicity levels’—  which is pretty typical for any building where fear toxin or Joker gas are found in any amount. They must have found a lot to condemn the whole building, but Tim is confident he’ll be fine. The airborne shit dissipates to safe levels within hours depending on the ventilation. If it was in the air, it’s long gone. Anything else needs to be injected to be effective.

Once the camera’s busted, he kicks out the boards and heads inside.

He drags his suitcase in after him, and mourns the shower he probably won’t be getting. The hall lights are out, and chances are the water’s been shut off along with the electricity. But at this point, he simply does not give a shit. All he wants are four walls and a mattress.

Leaning on the door to his floor to make it open, he stumbles out into the hallway—

And catches sight of the glistening curved dagger stabbed into the wall next to his door, the hilt gleaming green in the sinking sun.

“Nope,” Tim says, spinning on his heel and going back down the stairwell double time. “Nope, nope, nope.”

He is now 100% certain that the League of Assassins has been burning his bolt holes. Ra’s al fucking Ghul can eat his whole ass.

—

Seven blocks away, Tim sits on the sidewalk in front of a bodega and contemplates a third cup of coffee. The shittiest one yet.

See, here’s the thing.

The thing is, he has options.

He could go to the Manor. Or the penthouse. Or to Steph’s place. He’d have to answer some unnecessary questions like ‘Master Timothy, you know you can’t sleep on aircraft, why didn’t you sleep before your flight’ or ‘Tim, why didn’t you come here first, you know you can still come to me if you’re in trouble, right’ or ‘why did you agree to fumigate your fucking house, you loser, lmao’. (Stephanie is not going to let him live this down). 

He is absolutely certain that he would be welcomed in any of these places and after a completely undeserved amount of fussing, he could take a fucking nap and someone else would deal with the League bullshit for him.

And that’s the thing. There’s the rub.

No one should have to deal with the League bullshit for him. This is his problem. He’s not in a hurry to bring them down on anyone. Not even Damian.

With grim resignation, he reaches for his phone to try and find a hotel room (during a con’ weekend apparently, RIP) and maybe get a fucking handle on this whole stupid thing, when he hears:

“Hand over your wallet!”

He lifts his head slowly and finds himself looking down the barrel of a gun. A gun held by some guy wearing a ski mask in broad fucking daylight. There’s another guy next to him who’s watching the street. There’s a third guy somewhere behind him who he can’t see, but he can hear the scuff of his boots.

Sure. Why not. With the day he’s had, this might as well happen. He holds up his hands placatingly.

Tim contemplates his muggers. The guy with the gun is jittery, probably new to this, or hopped up on something. He keeps glancing between Tim and the bodega behind him, so they were probably planning a run on the till. Might have chickened out, or thought Tim was an easier target, an unexpected meal ticket plopped right in their path. Or they were already inside when Tim sat down, which wouldn’t bode well for his situational awareness seeing as he just came out of there himself.

The grinding gears of his tired brain keep getting caught on the fact that this is happening in the middle of the fucking day. Tim glances at the street corner and bites his cheek in frustration. Yeah, he’s smack dab in the middle of the Alley. Figures.

“Are you deaf or somethin’ man?” The guy with the gun is saying. “Hand over your fucking wallet!”

The other guy doesn’t seem as crazy-eyed. He’s nervous, though. He keeps looking around like he’s expecting Batman to materialize, to come whistling down the street like a beat cop.

“Dude, come on, it’s not fucking worth it,” he says, grabbing at the gunman’s shoulder. “We got the money, let’s fucking go.”

The third guy kicks over Tim’s suitcase. “Yeah, come on, Don, let’s just grab this shit and bounce.”

Tim can’t do anything. He’s not Red Robin right now. He’s Timothy Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and he’s getting mugged in front of a bodega at two in the afternoon in a rumpled suit and tie and still toting his suitcase from his early morning flight. 

His hands are trembling from unspent adrenaline, too much caffeine, and not enough sleep. His eyelids are the heaviest they’ve ever been in his godforsaken life. His ears are ringing. He could knock all three of them down in less time than it takes to tie his shoelaces. But he can’t.

“Shut up, Johnny, look at him shaking! What’s he gonna do? If he doesn’t wanna get shot, rich boy’s gonna hand over all his fucking shit!”

“Hey, let’s just—” Tim tries to say.

Stars explode across his vision as Tim takes a punch he genuinely wasn’t expecting. He stares up at the blue sky for about half a second, more confused than anything else, before the gunman grabs him by the front of his shirt and hauls him up to shout in his face.

“What’s it gonna be, pretty boy?!”

Caught on the exhausted edge between vigilante training and the preservation of his identity, Tim is frozen. He doesn’t know what to do. He kind of wants to cry.

“Gee, Donny, what is it gonna be?” A fourth voice says, full of false cheer.

Tim blinks. So do the muggers. 

He knows that voice.

“Who the fuck—?” The gunman drops Tim, spinning around and into a fist. He tumbles down to the ground, out cold.

Everything happens pretty quickly after that.

Jason Todd is in civvies. He’s sporting a worn out looking hoodie and a pair of jeans that have seen better days. But his heavy boots are the same ones he wears for his uniform, and the kick he delivers to Johnny’s face is all Red Hood.

Almost in a daze, Tim watches him fight with the usual mix of seething envy and raw desire that rears its ugly head any time he gets to see Jason in action. He’s fast, decisive. Efficient. Beautiful. Tim wishes he had Jason’s skill. And he wishes— 

Well. He wishes a lot of things about Jason Todd.

Tim is pretty sure he and Jason are friends. Maybe. Probably. They’ve pretty much moved past the whole “replacement”, “zombie-dickhead” part of their relationship and have graduated to occasionally providing backup on ops that overlap in each other’s sectors, ganging up on Dick when they’re all in the same room, and maintaining a surprisingly steady stream of vigilante gossip to keep each other in the loop. 

So, ok, yes, due to the aforementioned, he’s pretty sure they’re friends. And also because Jason wouldn’t have stuck his neck out for him otherwise. He would have just let him get mugged.

Watching Jason fight is one of Tim’s favorite pastimes. But right now, Tim’s usual appreciation is soured by the gut-roiling embarrassment of being caught in this position by Jason of all people. His eyes itch. His cheek throbs. He’s so fucking tired.

“Hey, little stalker,” Jason says suddenly, holding out an expectant hand in Tim’s face. The muggers are groaning on the ground around them. Tim isn’t sure when that happened. He might have zoned out. “Did you know that you had a stalker for a change?”

Tim flushes. “I resent that. I haven’t stalked anyone in years.” He takes the hand. It’s warm, and calloused, and big around his.

Jason laughs at him and yanks him to his feet. “Liar.”

Tim’s mouth twists into a scowl. He tries to glare at Jason, but he can feel himself swaying and Jason still hasn’t let go of him, and it’s ruining everything.

Also, lowkey, Jason is right. But in his defense, it is literally their job to stalk people, so.

“I haven’t stalked you in years then. Just other guys. Bad guys. Not non-bad guys. Fuck. You know what I mean. Whatever.” He pauses; recalibrates. “Had?” He asks.

Jason’s eyebrows inched higher and higher the longer Tim talked. Tim doesn’t blame him.

“Yeah. Had.” 

So much for the League, Tim muses.

Jason gives him a once over before tugging decisively on Tim’s wrist, easily grabbing the handle of his suitcase and starting to walk with both in tow, to Tim’s rising horror. 

“You’re coming with me, shortstack. What’s wrong with you? Are you drunk? You look like shit.”

Tim tries to yank his wrist out of Jason’s grip, but the asshole doesn’t budge. “I’m not drunk,” Tim snaps. “I’m fine. I’m just. I’m just… really tired.”

Jason stops abruptly, and Tim stumbles into his shoulder.

“I can see that,” he says, steadying Tim with an amused but ultimately sympathetic look. He loads Tim’s suitcase onto the back of a motorcycle that Tim literally just now noticed. 

God, he’s fucked. And not even in a fun way. 

“C’mon,” Jason says. “Don’t fall asleep on the way over— road rash sucks ass.”

—

They don’t talk on the way to— wherever Jason is taking them, but once they’re parked in a random garage and walking towards the elevators, the game of twenty questions begins.

“So why’ve you got League assassins after you, anyway? Piss in a lazarus pit? Push over the baby brat on the playground?”

“Ra’s al Ghul wants my body,” Tim says, dejected but resigned to this bizarre fact of his life. “Since I was seventeen, I’m pretty sure.”

Jason wrinkles his nose. “Ew.”

“I don’t think it’s a sex thing? But it could also be a sex thing.”

“Again. Fucking ew.”

“Yeah. Also I blew up a bunch of his shit and I think he’s still salty I got away with it.”

“Is that why you weren’t at the Manor?” Jason asks, herding Tim out of the elevator and down a long hallway. “Or anywhere but a random street in Crime Alley?”

Tim nods. “Yeah. They found all my safehouses, but— my mess. My problem.”

Jason thwacks him upside the head.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

“You’re the dumbest person on the planet.”

“Am not. B is on-planet right now.”

“Then you’re pretty fucking close,” Jason snarks, fishing out some keys and opening one of the apartment doors.

Tim scoffs at him as he’s pushed inside. “Oh, please. Don’t try to tell me you would let Dick swoop in and solve all your problems for you.”

Jason rolls his eyes, stepping into the side kitchen and popping open the freezer door of the fridge.

“Dickiebird can’t even solve his own problems,” he says as he rummages. “But maybe when I’m fucked up enough to let three nobodies robbing a fucking bodega get the jump on me, that’s a sign that, maybe, it might be time to call in the cavalry. Dick isn’t the only person who’s got your back.” He presses an ice pack to Tim’s face until he takes it himself, and keeps steering him through the apartment. “Just saying.”

Tim would protest with all of his very good reasons why Jason is definitely wrong here, but he’s too busy processing the fact that Jason has led him into a bedroom. With a bed. There’s a bed, with a mattress and pillows and blankets. Right there. Tim stares at it with lustful eyes.

Jason catches him staring. He rolls his eyes, but he’s sporting a small smile that Tim has the presence of mind to memorize. He walks over to a dresser and pulls out a big shirt and a pair of shorts that he hands to Tim.

“Look. If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here. No guarantees I’ll be always around, but, yeah. Mi casa es su casa, or whatever.”

Tim eyes him up, clutching the bundle of Jason-smelling fabric in his hands. “And you’d do that for me because…why, exactly?”

Jason flicks his forehead, a stinging reprimand. Tim hisses.

“Because, dumbass, you need help and I feel like it. And you don’t actually suck to be around, so shut up and be grateful.”

“Oh, yes,” Tim deadpans, rubbing at his forehead. “So grateful to be allowed the privilege of squatting with you.”

The thing of it is, Tim is grateful. But Jason doesn’t need to know that.

Jason squawks, and before Tim can duck, he’s snatched Tim around the neck in a headlock. His arm is thick and doesn’t budge no matter how Tim shoves and kicks. The ice pack and the clothes go flying, and Tim just about dies. Jason is warm.

“Jason—!”

“Brat!” Jason crows, not giving an inch. “I paid for this place fair and square— you’re the only squatter here!”

“Blood money doesn’t count as square!”

“Tell that to half of Gotham, kid.”

“I’m trying to, thanks for noticing,” Tim says, finally wrenching himself free of Jason’s grip, stumbling into the bed and giving into its siren song. He sits down heavily on the edge, toppling over sideways and reaching pathetically for the fallen ice pack that’s just out of his reach.

“And don’t call me kid—” he complains, muffled by the pillow. It also smells like Jason. “You’re barely two years older than me.”

The cold ice pack is pressed into his fingers. He cracks an eye open to look, but Jason is just smirking at him, like he’s giving Tim the win. Ass.

“Coulda fooled me, shortstack.”

Tim rolls his eyes, and onto his back, toeing off his shoes and letting them clatter to the floor. He can’t tell if Jason’s bed is the best bed in the world, or if he’s just deliriously inventing things.

Frankly, Jason Todd’s bed is the last place he ever thought he’d end up, this morning or otherwise, so he’s never bothered to speculate. He does not have a contingency plan for this.

“Is there a reason you keep calling me short,” he complains, “Or will I just need to fill in the blanks myself?”

“Can’t help it. You’re just so small,” Jason coos. Tim props himself up on an elbow at that, raising a disgusted eyebrow.

“You don’t hear me constantly talking about how big you are.” 

Jason grins like he just won the lottery; Tim shuts his eyes the second it’s out of his mouth.

“Baby, you don’t know how big I am.”

He does, actually. Not in a creepy stalker way, just— there was this one time. A big rogue breakout at Arkham, all-hands on deck type of situation; Tim, Cass, and Jason were covering Poison Ivy in the park. Acid-spitting pitcher plants were involved.

And look, Jason’s tactical gear is fine in the day to day, but it’s not like any of them had time to prep a neutralizing agent, so when Jason needed his pants off, stat…uh. Well. Tim was right there.

He knows, okay?

“Alright,” he rallies, trying desperately not to replay the memory of Jason adjusting himself through his boxers. All of himself. “I walked right into that one.”

“Oh, trust me. You’ll know if you’ve walked into it.”

Tim scoffs, but he can feel how red his face is.

And the thing is. He says it without really meaning to. 

But he still means it.

“You gonna put your money where your mouth is, big guy?”

The change is immediate. Jason had been halfway out the door, but now he turns to Tim, giving him his full, undivided attention. He looks at Tim, laid out in Jason's bed, giving him a very slow once over. The scrutiny is at once nerve-wracking and thrilling.

“Thought you didn’t want my money,” Jason murmurs.

The temperature in the room spikes. If it weren’t for the slow throb of his bruised cheek, Tim would think that he’s already asleep and dreaming.

But he isn’t. He’s very much aware that he’s wide awake.

Tim swallows. “Well. It’s not your money I want.”

Jason’s grin is electric. 

He stalks over to the bed, and Tim is frozen like a rabbit, waiting to see what he’ll do next. Jason settles a knee on the sheets between Tim’s legs, looming over Tim and boxing him in against the mattress. Tim’s free hand reaches up of its own accord to tangle in the collar of Jason’s hoodie, and the cotton is softer than he expected.

Jason’s eyes rove over his face, dark and heavy. He catches Tim’s face in his hand, swiping his thumb lightly across the bruising hot ache of his cheekbone. He leans in deliberate and slow and—

—and stops about an inch away from Tim’s mouth.

“Get some sleep, babybird,” Jason teases, his breath puffing gently over the skin of Tim’s lips. “You can proposition me again tomorrow.”

“It’s, like, 3:30 in the afternoon,” Tim argues, breathless.

“Yeah, and your body thinks it’s 3:30 in the morning. You’re dead on your feet. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, and go the fuck to sleep.”

Jason moves to rise. But Tim hooks a stubborn arm around his neck and pulls him down that last remaining inch. 

The kiss is— bad. At first. 

Tim basically smashed their mouths together to prove a point, and Jason muffles a surprised sound against Tim’s teeth. He lands heavily on top of Tim at an awkward angle, and he’s kind of crushing him. Tim refuses to let go, but— Jason doesn’t pull away.

Jason gentles the kiss instead, and Tim thrills. He levers himself up onto his elbow, wrapping an anchoring arm around Tim’s back. He finds a home between Tim’s legs, and he lets Tim kiss him until Tim's lips are tingling and his fingers go slack; until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore.

Somewhere between fifteen minutes and a small eternity later, Jason presses one more kiss to the corner of his mouth. He curls around Tim on his side, and Tim turns his face into Jason’s neck with a soft wondering sigh.

“I’ll keep it. Promise. Wait n’ see,” Tim mumbles. Jason snorts, but doesn’t budge, and Tim can hear his smile in his voice, lilted and lulling.

“Sure, babybird. I’ll wait. I got nowhere else to be.”

Tim is already asleep.

[httpiastri]

currently thinking about clement novalak railing me while I wear a flowy summer sundress, the sea breeze coming in through the window (the entire thing obvs being as sweet an playful and intimate and romantic as possible) 🫣 I AM SO IN MY FEELS RN

aaaAaaAaA this... this made me so....... 😶 no because i've been thinking about him every second all day today and now my cousin is in my room bcs she's staying over but i still HAD to write something

also i started writing at maybe 1am? and then i got stuck looking at pictures and videos of him so this took way too long... currently 4am but my energy is 📈

18+ content below the cut, minors do not interact, thank you!

you loved going on vacations with clement.

you hadn't been to france before, so to have your sweet boyfriend along with you to show you around the cities where he used to go for trips when he was still a little boy was more than you could ever ask for.

your mornings are spent drinking coffee and having breakfasts at cute coffee shops, with clement reading you the french newspapers as you both pretend like you understand what he's saying, holding hands and going through your plans for the day. your days are spent sightseeing, jumping from museums to art galleries to tourist spots, not forgetting to stop by and buy souvenirs for your friends back home. and your nights are spent in the fanciest restaurants, the ones only locals know about, the ones with the best wine and the best cuisine.

this particular night has been spent just like that – possibly with an emphasis on the good wine-part.

you're both tipsy, but not full-on drunk, once you stumble in through the door to your hotel room. your bodies are already clinging to each other and he's placing playful kisses down your neck as he kicks the door closed with his heel.

the hotel is a cozy building owned by a really cute elderly couple, thankfully not overly crowded despite the fact that it's located right by the ocean and yet within walking distance of the city. you must've gotten the best room in the building, because the view of the sun setting over the water is to die for.

not that either of you are thinking about the sunset right now.

your hands reach up to his shoulders, trying to push him away from you to look at him, but his hold on your waist is strong. instead, you settle for leading him towards the bed as his lips move to explore the skin of your collarbones.

this time when you push at his shoulders, he gets the hint and sits down on the edge of the bed. he looks up at you, eyes hazy but smiling as they meet yours. his hands are still holding onto you, and they usher you to come near and close the gap between you.

your hands come up to hold his face in them, thumbs stroking his cheeks as you lean in to kiss him. clement helps you sit down on his lap, moving his lips against yours and tilting his head to gain better access. his arms sneak past and around your waist to pull you closer, dragging you against his already hardening member. his actions elicit a whine from your mouth and he uses the opportunity to let his tongue slip past your now open lips.

your head is spinning already, and you don't think it's purely because of the wine. when one of his hands reaches under the material of your dress, going up your thigh inch by inch, you pull away from the kiss. "clem..." your forehead leans against his, your eyes closed and breath heavy against his face.

"yeah?" he answers, hand reaching further up, stopping right before your underwear before going down again.

"just... please..." you can't find a way to form your sentences, your brain too busy focusing on the feeling of his skin against your own.

his thumb drags along the edge of your panties. "tell me what you want me to do to you, love." he pulls his head away from yours, putting on a small smile at the sight of your already so lustful expression. "i want to hear you say it."

your eyes flutter open as a grin – or, as much of a grin as you can muster in your current state – spreads over your lips. "clement novalak," you start, tilting your head. "are you trying to make me beg?"

"maybe." he pauses for a moment, his own grin growing by the second. "are you going to?"

a laugh escapes from your mouth as you shake your head, lacing your lips with his again. "you're unbelievable," you mumble against him.

clement has no problem flipping you over, laying you down against the sheets before climbing on top of you. taking off your dress is too much of a hassle, he thinks, so he doesn't bother. he's memorized every inch of your body anyway – he could probably draw you like one of his french girls just from memory – so piling it up by your hips is good enough.

he helps you out of your underwear and then pulls his white linen pants off and his boxers along with them. before he throws them away, he gets his wallet out from the back pocket, pulling out a condom. "see? i told you this was a good spot," he says, tugging off the packaging with a content look on his face.

you roll your eyes at him. "sure. now, just hurry up, will you?"

he laughs at your response, and you can't help but join him. once the condom is on, one of his hands reach to take one of yours in it, intertwining your fingers as he positions himself above you. he connects your lips for what feels like the millionth time of the day, making sure you show off no sign of hesitation before he slowly pushes into you.

the sunset casts a pink hue over the room and when it lands on your bodies, it illustrates an artwork much more beautiful than any of the paintings you'd seen on your trips to the museums these last few days. the waves crashing against the beach right outside the window, combined with the quick breaths and quiet moans flowing from your mouth, is like music to clement's ears as he continues making you feel good. your eyes are hooded as you watch him, your mind completely clouded with lust. he's all you can see, all you can feel, all you can think of; it's all him. and you wouldn't want to have it any other way.

[angelofchaos001]

Some AU Writings

(This is a silly mix of the Splitmind AU and @thunder-wolf64 's Sizzling Waters AU, I was struck with a burst of inspiration and didn't want it going to waste)

What if I gave Sizzle a mother without the brain damage...hmmmm...

Splitmind Arti to the "rescue" >=3

(Writing under cut)

* * * * * * * * * *

Sizzle had been nothing but distraught since he lost Kelp.

How could things ever be the same? Or be better? That was his best friend.

Scratch that, it was his only friend.

Gone in an instant.

He wanted to curl up and cry himself to sleep every cycle since then. But he couldn't. He had to keep himself alive, but also because of-

"Pup? We need to be on our way now. I've let you sleep in as long as I can."

He whimpered and rolled over in the shelter, looking up at his mother. He wanted to be able to call her that and love her. To want to be close to her and love the affection she tried to show.

But something inside of him stopped him every time. Some little voice in the back of his head that didn't trust her, didn't like her, knew she was family but couldn't treat her like it.

"Just . . . go hunt for little," he said, so quietly that it was nothing but a hushed whisper. "I need more time."

"I don't want to leave you alone in here," she said. Her voice had a forced sweetness in it, trying to cover that rough, scratchy tone with milk and honey. Sizzle didn't even think she was faking it, she just didn't seem good with those softer emotions.

She was a blaze of fire at every turn, shouting and hissing whenever the slightest excuse for her to do so popped up. She was ferocious, brutal, and didn't - couldn't - stop herself from tearing anything that threatened her apart.

He hated it.

But he wanted to love her.

If he could, he would separate his mother from the violent monster inside of her and bring back what his memories showed of her. The kind protector who scanned the sky for vultures - not as a meal, but instead as a concerned parent.

The one who would pat him and his sister and congratulate them for the batflies they'd struggle to grab.

The soft red fur that he would bury his face in every night, cuddling as close as he could. Now, she felt colder than ever, but still burning with hatred.

"I need more time," he said, a little louder this time.

With a heavy sigh, his mom reached over and stroked her paw along his back. It felt out of place. Like a lizard -

Nope. Not a good metaphor.

Like . . . a garbage worm patting a scavenger. It was wrong. But he still wanted it. It wasn't the touch he would have liked to feel, but it was the only touch he would get.

This was all he had.

"I won't be far. Join me when you're feeling less blue, alright pup?" She tilted her head, and Sizzle felt new thorns stab at his heart. Why did she have to use that saying? Why...?

He gave a halfhearted nod. He thought he heard a contented smile from her. "Good. I'll make sure to get something special for you today. It'll help clear your mind."

As she leapt gracefully out of the shelter, Sizzle found himself yearning for some kind of companionship again, but couldn't find it in him to leave yet. What can I even do now? Where am I going?

I don't want to survive. I want to live. With Burning, and Kelp, and my sister, and -

Tears stung his eyes as he let out a wail. Everyone he had loved, everyone he knew, who he had cared about, was just gone.

He wanted the cycle to bring them back, place them right at his feet and say 'Sorry, here's everyone you love back'. But things didn't work like that.

Sizzle took a tuft of fur near the end of his tail and started twisting it gently. Was his tail getting messier each day? Had he really been neglecting his appearance that much?

Carefully, he began to pick through the matted patches and clean up the loose strands. Dirt and debris came loose as he worked, some things so deeply tangled he wondered how it even happened to begin with.

His dark green fur started to scatter across the shelter floor, bits that he couldn't work through yanked away with nothing more than a yelp and a pull.

The yelp of a blue lizard, scared and confused.

The pull of the harpoon, dragging it away into the sky.

Sizzle cried out and immediately stopped what he was doing. "Aaargh! Why? Why did it have to be then?!"

He was only gone for a moment. He'd found a new path.

He had been so excited to share that information with his mom.

And instead he got to watch as his only friend was murdered without a chance to fight back.

He was almost grown-up, but in so many ways, Sizzle still felt like nothing more than the small, helpless pup he was on that day, so long ago.

"Sister . . . " he whimpered, closing his eyes and thinking hard of what she'd looked like. "I don't blame you. I still love you. I hope you're out there somewhere, that the cycle was kind to you and you're happy now."

"I hope that Blazing is alive and well, and if she isn't, then . . . then I hope that she was brought back into a life much better than the one she had, as amazing as that was. I hope she can have a great family without anything happening to her or the ones she loved."

"And Kelp, I want nothing more than for you to be happy. To be loved. Cared for by someone special who will never let you go. Never let you down. Like I did . . . I'm so sorry, Kelp."

Many cycles now, he'd been reflecting on the ones he'd lost and wishing them well. In a cruel world, he could only hope that fate would take pity on them, give them credit for how hard they tried to be good.

"I love you all. I hope that someday, maybe not today, but someday . . . I'll see you again."

He hugged his tail around his body, curling up in a ball. It was his safe space, something where he couldn't be harmed. At least . . . not harmed a lot.

Sizzle's ear perked at the sound of a tunnel being used. He flicked to attention immediately, looking at the shelter opening where the marks flickered brightly.

The color was unfamiliar. It was maroon, like his mom, but . . . too red to be her. Too dark.

For a moment, he panicked, thinking it was one of those horrifying red lizards he heard about, but it wasn't the bright, aggressive red color that they were. This was more muted.

Could it be a scavenger? His heart leapt, thinking that it could be someone he cared about, finally coming to find him. But mom said she wasn't going to be far, and she'd never let a scavenger get this close to the shelter where I am . . .

So what is it?

Every muscle was tensed to run if needed. He'd outmaneuvered legitimate predators in these shelters before, thanks to his explosive capabilities. As the light dimmed and the shape started to emerge, it was a slugcat.

It was just his mom.

He let out a breath, though he wasn't relieved to see her. "Hey . . . " he said, glancing towards the ground. "What did you get for me?"

"I didn't get anything," a confused voice that was also MOST DEFINITELY NOT HIS MOTHER asked. "Who are you?"

"I - Uh -" Panic seized him as he suddenly shot past the figure in the entrance and through the pipe, emerging on the other size into a moist area filled with heaps of waste, and an acrid smell pierced his nose with every breath.

He didn't know where to run to. Up? Would he be fast enough? What if this slugcat could climb faster than him??

Could he hide in the nearby pool of water until they moved on? Doubtful. He wasn't the best at holding his breath, and the thought of being fully submerged again paralyzed him with fear.

No. There's no leeches here, Sizzle. It's fine.

His body refused to obey, frozen in place and shaking as the figure followed him out, blinking in the light.

"Woah," they said, glancing him up and down. "You look . . . like you've not been taking care of yourself. Want me to get some of those tangles out?"

Sizzle didn't know what to say. This strange slugcat looked similar to his mother, dark maroon fur, scars, prickly fur, and even had their left eye all scratched up. But that same eye was also wildly different and weird from the other one.

Their right was a pure, glossy white, much like their actual mother had. But the left was pitch black, save for a tiny cyan pupil that stared down at him intensely.

"M-Maybe?" He managed, but then more words tumbled out of his mouth. "What's wrong with your eye?"

"This one?" She asked, pointing to the left eye. He nodded, and she let out a warm laugh. It was the kind of sound that made him relax, just a little bit. "Oh, it's nothing. It was scratched out by a scavenger a long time ago, but then Pebbles fixed it up for me."

"W-Why is it all . . . " his paws waved wildly, searching for a description that didn't rude, but nothing came to mind.

"Screwed up? That's a long story that I don't feel like explaining right now." She took a few steps towards Sizzle, and he crouched down, ready to explode away and leave her with smoke in her face. "Just let me help you first."

As she crouched by his tail and gently began picking through tangles, Sizzle still felt weirded out by this. Every thought told him to run, but he couldn't escape now. If he played along, maybe they'd let him go unharmed. He took this time to study the slugcat more.

Aside from her eye, there were many other nasty stars on her ear, neck, tail, back, everywhere. She had shaggy, spiked-up fur and little golden accents on her paws. Her only accessories were some earrings, a pearl bracelet, and bandages along her arm. As he stared at the pearl, it looked eerily familiar . . .

"It looks just like mom's eyes!"

"She'll love it!"

"The scavengers aren't even here right now."

He flared his fur and scooted away, heart racing. "Don't - I - Where did you get that pearl?" He demanded, pressing himself against the ground.

The slugcat looked away and rubbed her normal eye. "I . . . do you really want to hear the whole story? It's long, sad, and it doesn't have a happy ending."

"I'll listen," he said, trying to hide the shake in his voice. "I promise."

"Alright then. See, I used to have two beautiful, absolutely perfect pups. I loved them to pieces. They were my whole world. You're likely not old enough to have pups of your own yet, but someday, you'll understand."

"No, no, I know how that feels," Sizzle shuddered. Why did this stranger's story seem to line up with his life?

She smiled softly and continued on. "Cada was the older one. By about . . . " she trailed off and shook her head. " . . . I can't remember anymore. But he was blue, and a little bit mischievous."

That sounds like my sister.

"The other one was green, almost like you. Her name was Fume, both because she was like the pale wisps you see from the acid, and because of her fiery temper. Just like her mom . . . "

The slugcat trailed off again, but cleared her throat and carried on. "Anywho, I was passing a toll with them by my side. Fume was on my back, and I had Cada by his hand. Well, I stopped to take a rock and give it a bit of bang, and I guess . . . I took my eyes off of Cada for too long."

No. It can't be. She can do this too. She was at the scavenger toll. That pearl . . .

The stranger took a deep breath, like she was steadying herself. Sizzle noted how her claws flexed and dug into the wet ground beneath her, making him uneasy. "Cada tried to take a pearl from their toll. This very pink one right here. He brought it to me eagerly. I told him to put it back before the scavengers noticed, but they'd already seen."

Sister . . .

"I tried to run with them both. But I had to leap over a tall wall, and Cada slipped from my hand when I did. I still regret not jumping back to try and save him." She pressed her paws against her eyes, forcing back tears. "I loved him so much. I never got to tell him how proud of him I was. And that very same bomb I stopped to make was used against me. I leapt over a pool of water - full of leeches - and the scavengers threw it at me."

His torn ear flicked, the old wound aching as the story seemed so familiar.

"I could only watch as they dragged Fume away. I . . . I couldn't save either of them."

Could that have been me? He thought, blood running cold. Was I one different moment away from being pulled by those leeches and drowning?

The strange slugcat blinked, and Sizzle saw tears only from her right eye. "I'm . . . sorry if that is hard to hear, but you did agree to hear it. I warned you."

"It's weird . . . " he murmured, getting louder as he spoke. "That sounds exactly like what happened to me. My mom could tell you that exact same story, more or less."

Her ears perked. "But . . . you're not Fume. I can tell by looking at you."

"I'm Sizzling Waters, but, everyone calls me Sizzle." He shuffled his paws awkwardly. "You can too, if you want."

She nodded slowly. "That's a scavenger name. Well, pleased to meet you, Sizzle. Call me Artificer, or Arti for short." With a flourish, she stuck out her paw.

"That's . . . " he stopped, thinking. That's mom's name, too. What do I even make of this?

Sizzle gently took it and shook it. She was warm, but it wasn't the fury his mother held. "It's . . . what?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Artificer's my mom's name, too."

She blinked, then laughed. "Oh, what a coincidence! Then, I guess I'll give you something different to call me by. Must be pretty awkward if you called me the same way you called your mom."

Sizzle stayed silent. But she's so different. She hasn't killed my family.

"Anywho, call me Ruffian, then. It's what Pebbles calls me sometimes, he doesn't mind sharing the nickname." She grinned. "I used to hate it, but it grew on me."

"Alright then . . . R-Ruffian." He shuddered and shook out his fur.

"Why are you all alone out here, I must ask. If your mother is anything like me, she'd tear up the Wastes until she found you."

"Actually, she's not far from here." That's what she said, anyway. "Maybe you could talk to her."

Ruffian laughed. "Perhaps! I do wonder, if she apparently is so similar to me, how her experience with the Chieftain has gone. I doubt it's as happy as mine is, but the beginning may be the same."

"The . . . what?" Sizzle had heard of the 'Chieftain' before, but never really knew who they were. Just that they were a scavenger leader.

"Oh, the Scavenger Chieftain. Clouds of Endless Smog, his name is, but I just call him Smog." She smiled. "It's funny. I used to really hate scavengers."

Sizzle bristled. He couldn't handle this again. Hearing about how someone hated scavengers so much they went on a rampage against them. My own mother did that.

"But . . . now I can see that they were just acting out a bit." Sizzle blinked, relaxing, willing to hear her out. "Cada took a pearl. He stole. It's that simple. Even if they were my pups, and I can still be mad, I can't be mad at every scavenger for it."

Sizzle curled his tail around his paws and listened. "What did you do?"

"Hm?"

"I mean . . . after they killed your pups?"

She sighed, like she was exhausted. "Something very stupid and very foolish of me. I went after them. Slaughtered every single one I saw, cleared out entire tolls single-handedly. I even went for the Chief himself. I killed him and took his mask."

Sizzle felt sick. She was just another scavenger killer, after all. She would have wiped Burning without a second thought. He shook. Would she hurt him for being raised with them? She recognized his name was a scavenger's, but . . .

"I changed my ways, though. Ascension is messy, and with my primal desires, I almost became an echo. Riv pulled me out, thank goodness, but . . . I had to change. I made things right."

Almost none of that made sense to Sizzle, but he nodded anyway. "Now . . . what do you think of scavengers?"

She smiled. "Well, I'm dating Smog, so there's that."

His jaw dropped. "You mean, the same one that you -"

"I know, I know, crazy, but . . . " she giggled. "He wanted to keep an eye on me, and with me fixing things, he eventually just fell for me." Rufian's eyes were much softer as she looked down. "Guess I did too, huh?"

Sizzle was about to say something else when he caught movement behind her. This, he knew, was his actual mother. Stalking up behind Ruffian, waiting to strike and take her out like a threat.

Not again.

"Ruffian, turn around," he whispered. "And then run."

He watched his mom's ears flatten. Was he too loud? Did she hear him, trying to escort his maybe-friend to safety?

Will she punish me if they escape?

She turned around, but Sizzle realized it was too slow. She'd never escape in time. His mom leapt out, sparks flying from her jaws and smoke curling from her fur as the loud PANG rocked his eardrums.

"PAWS OFF OF MY PUP!" She howled. Sizzle had never heard her so viscerally angry. Through the blur of her fast movement, her eyes were nothing but narrowed slits of hatred and anger.

Artificer barreled into Ruffian, hooking her claws into the soft maroon fur and provoking a shriek of pain. Sizzle felt frozen in place, except for moving backwards out of the way of the fight. He couldn't tell if she was bleeding yet - not against her fur color.

Ruffian kicked out with her back legs, clawing into his mom and throwing her off into the ground beneath them. He wanted to shout at them to stop fighting. To stop trying to kill each other.

Because losing either of them would kill him.

"You know NOTHING about him!" Artificer spat, hauling herself up and into the air again, grabbing Ruffian by the ears and pulling her down. "NOTHING about what he's been through! And he's MINE!"

She shrieked, before her tail seemed to burst into sparks and create such a loud noise Sizzle yelped and covered his ears. He could feel it ringing, the high-pitched agony, and he wasn't even as close as his mom was. Through the discomfort, he looked and saw Artificer covering her ears as well, her tail flicking and building up a charge.

Ruffian instead leapt away onto a higher ledge, grabbing a spear and pointing it at her. "Yield, and we both go home alive."

Sizzle hated hearing those words.

"Never," Artificer hissed, scoring the dirt with her claws and leaping up after Ruffian. "You picked your fate when you messed with my pup!"

He lost sight of the scuffle for a moment, blinking into the bright sky to watch the mother - and the mourning - rake at each other. Ruffian seemed to be intentionally not using the spear, a sign that gave Sizzle hope that both Artificers would come out of this fine.

Please say nobody dies.

Please.

Ruffian's claws tore out a chunk of his mother's fur, while she clamped down on their neck. Sizzle's heart sank, his fear and nervousness rising as Artificer jumped through the air, dragging Ruffian with her, and landing in front of Sizzle.

She let them go, blood dripping from her jaws and pooling around the body. "Go on, pup," she said, no emotion visible on her face at all, "Finish the job."

"W-What?!" He gasped. Was she insane? He - He couldn't. He could never, not in a million cycles, do this.

"Finish. The Job." She hissed, her voice grating a little bit. "This lunatic decided to mess with you. Probably filled your head with dangerous ideas. Maybe even tried to hurt you. Don't you want revenge?"

He whimpered, curling his tail around him. What if this slugcat was his sister? Or Burning? Or any of his tribemates? As unlikely as that sounded, the cycles worked in mysterious ways. All he thought, looking at the bloody fur before him, was I can't do this.

He didn't have to. Ruffian's paw shot out, grabbing Artificer by the chest and dragging her to ground, staggering upright while still bleeding. "I won't die that easy, you mangy mutt."

She was breathing hard, and shaking a little, but alive. Artificer snarled and twisted around, but Ruffian brought her foot down and pinned her on her back. "Stay down. I may not have a spear, but I know where your arteries are."

Artificer growled, but to Sizzle's amazement, didn't struggle. Was she planning to do something else?

Ruffian sighed, rubbing her neck and wincing. "Yeesh, that hurts a lot. I thought I knew pain over here, but I guess - " she stopped to cough and shiver.

"Ruffian?" Sizzle's voice was quiet. "Are you . . . going to be okay?"

"It won't kill me. Pebbles gives me all I need to survive these things. It does hurt, though."

"Serves you right," Arti spat. Ruffian dug her claws in, prompting his mother to hiss and writhe on the ground.

"I can't afford to leave this place right now," they started, sighing. "I won't make it out of here before the rain comes, and I have business to attend to anyway."

"What kind of business, pup thief?" Artificer grumbled something else to herself, and Ruffian groaned.

"The scavengers hate me again, for one. Probably because I look like you, apparently have the same name, and we share the same trauma."

The silence afterwards was deafening. Artificer blinked a few times, then quietly said, "Don't you want to wipe them out too, then?"

"Not anymore," Ruffian said, stepping back and letting her get up. "I stayed because I want to talk to you. If we really are so similar, then I can help you change too."

"No," Artificer hissed and her fur bristled. "They have to die for what they did. For my pups - "

"Is it even about them anymore?!" Ruffian shouted, tearing up again. "If you're me, then that answer is a resounding no! It stopped being about the pups long ago, and now it's only about a senseless slaughter!"

Sizzle buried his face in his fur. Is that true? This strange slugcat . . . is she going to get through to my mom? Will she ever change? Is it possible?

Artificer was silent, but disappeared over a ledge for a moment and came back with a scavenger corpse. Then another. "Here. I got these two, easy pickings, split off from their patrol group. I can at least send you off with something to eat."

Ruffian blinked, then sighed. "Iterators, the scavengers are going to kill me for this, but I need to eat." She crouched down and tore out chunks of meat, wolfing them down hungrily. Sizzle was petrified.

How?! HOW CAN ANYONE EAT THEM WITH HALF A HEART?!

Artificer cut off a piece of one and tossed it to Sizzle as well. "Come on, pup. You too."

"I'm . . . I'm not hungry," he murmured, looking away. "Please."

Ruffian paused, staring at him. "You're skinny as a pole, you must be starving right now. Eat. It will give you strength."

He shivered. This was wrong. So wrong, on so many levels. "I'm not . . . I'm really not . . . "

Artificer narrowed her eyes, but Ruffian dug through a small pouch hidden in her fur and pulled out a bluefruit, passing it to Sizzle. "Eat this, then. I keep some on me for Ranger to eat when he gets in a funk."

Sizzle's stomach growled. He didn't want to accept food from a stranger, but . . . hunger got the better of him as he gulped it down in nearly one bite. "T-Thank you, Ruffian . . . "

Artificer shot her a dirty look, and she shook her head. "Don't mention it. I carry spare food for my pup, like a good mother does."

"I thought - You said your pups died," Sizzle said, curious but worried. "What do you mean you have one now?"

"Ranger. I call him that, since it's what he wants me to, though he looks so similar to Fume that it pains me. I found him all alone, so I took him in as my own. I know he has a family now, but I just . . . can't let him go."

Arti smirked. "See? I don't hold my pup here against his will. He wants to be with me. That makes me a better mother than you."

Sizzle blinked. Do I want to be with her? Or do I just want to be with somebody?

Ruffian narrowed her eyes and bristled. "Don't start comparing. You're lucky yours survived at all."

"And I keep him that way. Where's yours right now, hm? Probably off being eaten by some scrawny lizard." Artificer smirked. Sizzle knew she was trying to agitate Ruffian, but he couldn't find the words to tell her that.

"He's safely hanging with Gourmand right now," she said, her voice lower and much more threatening now. "I can be confident letting mine out of my sight."

Artificer flicked her tail. "So can I. I left Sizzle just this cycle so he could have more time to recover from that awful shock of losing his lizard so suddenly."

Ruffian's eyes widened, and she turned to Sizzle. "Was - I'm so sorry, what color was your friend?"

"Pet," Arti spat, correcting her.

Sizzle stammered, trying not to get caught up in grief. "He - He was Blue. A King Vulture got him. It was - it - " he couldn't cry here. Not now. Not in front of his mom and this other strange slugcat.

She sighed in relief. "I was so worried for a moment. I had a nice tasty white one just a few cycles ago. But, no blue ones. If it makes you feel any better, heck, I've killed plenty of King Vultures."

"That doesn't help," he moaned, clutching his head.

"You're scaring him," Artificer said, huffing. "Now, go run along already. Or I'll chase you off again."

"You can stop threatening me," Ruffian said, glaring. "Sizzle, I hope to see you again sometime. You give me memories of a happier time. Stay safe out here."

Artificer stamped her foot before he could respond. "Hush up and go already," she growled, picking up the nearby spear that had been dropped in the fight.

Sizzle sighed. "Stay safe too, R-Ruffian. Okay?"

She nodded, and turned, preparing to leap again. Sizzle felt sad watching her go, but knew it was for the better. I'd rather have scavengers anyway. Not more slugcats. I hate my own species. What a mistake I am.

Artificer clutched the spear tightly, slowly walking up to Ruffian. Sizzle's alarm bells started to go off in his brain, but he was too slow to say anything. Ruffian's tail sparked, she reached her paws into the sky -

Artificer stabbed her, straight through the back.

Sizzle leapt up, rushing to Ruffian's side without even thinking. "NO!" he screamed. "No, NO!"

He was crying. No, sobbing was the better term for it. "Why would you do that?!" he yelled, looking at his mom, who only shrugged and wiped some blood off her fur. "She was leaving!"

"I had to teach her a lesson somehow. A warning to others, perhaps."

Sizzle wanted to be mad. To keep shouting and screaming. But it just wasn't his nature to do that. He just looked down at Ruffian, who was convulsing and gingerly touching the spear running through her chest.

"Ruffian . . . please, don't die. Come back, okay? Come back and be fine, please."

She reached out with a shaking paw, but couldn't reach Sizzle. " . . . I'll come back. I . . . I always do."

"I'm so, so sorry for what mom just did to you. I - I - " he broke down, curling beside her body.

"Shh . . . " she tried to smile. "I'll wake up . . . like everything else does. Your mom is just - " she stopped to cough, blood still pooling from the wound and from her mouth as well. " - just trying to to look out for you."

He didn't know why he cared for this stranger so much. Maybe just because they were willing to talk to him. They weren't a threat to him. And she had been nothing but kind to him.

Why did mom do that?

She was leaving.

She didn't do anything to me.

As Ruffian blinked, her right eye seemed to flick to match her left one as well all of a sudden. Sizzle didn't even notice until her faint and raspy voice had changed to a much stronger one, though still clearly pained and dying.

"You. Disgusting feral beast. I thought I'd never see you again. But clearly, you're some version of my partner that never moved on."

"I urge you, specifically, to go west, past the farm arrays. I don't care that you're bound to this world. Do everyone a favor. Solve the universal problem that you cause by existing."

"You are a stain in this world. A violent beast that needs to be changed or removed. You have no right to call that pup yours, when clearly, you two are so different."

Ruffian's eyes closed finally, and Artificer's ears flattened. "Finally, it shuts up and dies proper."

Sizzle took a moment to try and process what she'd said. About going west. His mom being a violent stain on this world.

He wondered who the voice was.

Why they only talked now.

But a corpse couldn't give him answers.

"Don't you feel better now, pup?" his mom asked, leaning down. "It's much quieter."

" . . . let's go," he whispered.

"Hm?"

"Let's just go sleep again."

she sighed. "My pup, the cycle has only just begun. The day is still bright."

"I don't care. I want to sleep again."

Artificer sighed and shook her head. "Fine. But next cycle, you're coming out with me, and you're finally going to eat proper and bulk up again."

Sizzle slipped into the shelter, looking back at the bloodstained red body left lying on the ground. His mom had grabbed her and was dragging it right outside the shelter as a 'warning to others', holding the corpse like a broken toy.

Ruffian . . . Artificer . . . I'm so sorry.

May your next life be far happier than this one was.

* * * * * * * * * *

GAH I went overboard but WRITING!

I just wanted to write something happier and then still crush Sizzle's hopes for happiness.

Enjoy this entire novel I wrote, lol -

Im not tagging others or doing proper tags because I am tired-

[filmbyjy]

IT TAKES TWO

PAIRING: nishimura riki x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you've always despised nishimura riki. ever since he decided to jump onto the next girl when you broke up with him. your love for him lingered and you missed him. however, you knew he didn't like you anymore. or maybe he still did?

WARNINGS: this decently angsty and honestly idk what I even wrote. cursing and tons of them! very childish fighting between ni-ki and you. my brain can't comprehend wtf i wrote. kissing! idk if that's a warning.

WORD COUNT: 4.8K words

taglist[perm]: @ja4hyvn @ahnneyong @milklix @kar0ki @sugarsunoo

a/n: okay I lied. this has been in my drafts since 2022 but like still it’s been a year😀oh i didn't exactly proofread this. i did check the grammar a little whilst trying to write but it's not fully proofread.

you pushed yourself off the ground, breathing heavily and sweating profusely. the mirrors were fogging up, a true sign of hard work had been done.

“great job (name). that would be all for today.” heeseung, a senior of the dance club, says. you smiled at him.

“thank you sunbae.” heeseung chuckles.

“you don’t have to call me sunbae (name)-ah. we can speak casually, of course i’m still older than you so you have to use a little formality.” you shyly looked away.

“o-oh alright heeseung sunba-i mean heeseung oppa.”

“better.” he ruffles your hair.

“hey hyung, are you done with her? jay hyung has been looking for you.” ni-ki says.

you gave him a hard glare. now, you may ask who was this ni-ki guy. well he was nishimura riki, a classmate of yours.

heeseung nods and he sends a small smile to you before leaving the place. ni-ki rolls his eyes.

“you do realise heeseung hyung has a girlfriend right?”

“yeah.” you in fact did not hence you formed a painfully obvious crush on him. “why do you care anyways?” you growled at ni-ki.

“jeez calm down tiger, I just noticed how you always try too hard to get heeseung hyung to notice you. it’s clear he has already set boundaries between you and him. he sees you as his little sister.”

“shut the fuck up.” ni-ki smirks.

“and what if I don’t, lee?”

“well nishimura, both you and I know this wouldn’t end nicely so I suggest you shut the fuck up before I make you.” you stare at him hard.

“think I’m afraid of you Lee? just cause your brother is Lee Minho? captain of the dance club? your dear brother loves me (name)-ie.”

you gave ni-ki the finger and left with your things.

ah the dynamic between you and the boy. the tension was too high, even your brother thought so.

“that’s where you are, what took you so long.” minho whines.

“save that whining for jisung. ah wait, forgot you are probably stuffing your tongue down his throat instead.”

“yahhh what’s with the uptight behaviour?”

“you know why Minho.”

“you and riki kid again? oh lord, you two are like cats and water. enemies.”

“you’re just saying that because soongie wouldn’t get in the bath water.”

“SHE WAS CLAWING ON ME AND THAT SHIT HURT.”

“cut her nails then.”

“what? no! she has to use those nails to attack anyone I hate. I’m training her, she’s our fiesty lion.”

“and how is training going?” you looked over at Minho.

“not well…”

“there’s your answer, let her live. she probably already hates you more than ever.”

“SHE DOESNT. YOU’RE JUST UPSET RIKI HASN'T KISS YOU YET!”

“now why would I want that demon child to kiss me?”

“the tension (name), do you not feel it?”

“no mr.krabs, I am not feeling it. the only tension I’m feeling is our hatred for each other.”

“yeah but that tension can be something more…like sexual tension.” you gave your big brother a smack on the head.

“we are 17, Lee Minho. get your mind out of the fucking gutter. moreover, I would never kiss someone like nishimura.”

“oh you two go by first name basis, watch him call you Mrs.Nishimura.”

“in your dreams.”

“BABEEE!!!” jisung clings onto Minho’s arms. minho leaves a cute little peck on the boy’s lips.

“ugh you two are disgusting.” you grumbled.

“hyungie, think we should find a boyfriend for (name)? she’s kinda extra spicy today.” jisung says.

“ay fuck you, you’re lucky you’re my brother’s boyfriend or else I would have roundhouse your ass a long time ago.”

“hyungie, she scares me.” jisung hides behind minho.

“(name), please don’t scare jisung. Oh and sungie, she just finished an argument with riki and she’s tired from dance practice. just let her live okay?”

“but she needs to release her tension.”

“you and everyone else are the same. I already told you that me and nishimura do not have any sort of tension besides the hatred we have for each other!”

“then if you don't, why don’t you go out and find a boyfriend? I bet you’d be a hundred percent way more happier.” jisung says.

“I would’ve had a boyfriend if I wasn’t a coward and confessed to heeseung sunbae and if he didn’t have a girlfriend!” you yelled. you froze after saying so.

“you like heeseung?” your brother says.

“minho, please don’t tell him. it’s no use of telling him if he already has a girlfriend.”

“he doesn’t have a girlfriend the last time I checked?” jisung says.

“what?”

“who told you that?” jisung asks.

“ni-ki.”

both minho and jisung shared a knowing look.

“(name), have you ever thought riki might have a crush on you? hence he said heeseung had a girlfriend?”

“what? why would he like me when he fucking hates my guts.”

“look (name), both you and riki are really dense and we hate it. we can tell the both of you like each other.” jisung says.

“you’re talking fucking nonsense, jisung.”

“(name).” minho looks at you.

“just drive me home and then you can go on your little date with jisung.” you shut your brother down. Minho sighs.

“alright, you’re okay with being alone at home with the cats right? mom and dad won’t be home early tonight.”

“are they ever home early?” minho wanted to answer but he couldn’t because it was true, when were they ever home.

he drives you home and drops you off. he rolls down the window.

“how about you order something if you’re hungry or-”

“i’m not going to the nishimura’s.”

“mrs.nishimura is usually home so if you want some home cooked food. I suggest going over.”

“yeah yeah. have fun on your date you two.” you rolled your eyes.

“(name), don’t do anything okay?” minho says.

“like what? have sex? that’s what you two are gonna do.”

“we aren’t-(name)!” jisung blushes.

“just get in the house, dork.” minho says.

“yes, my dear brother.” you bowed and went to open the door.

you entered your home and were instantly swarmed with Minho’s cats.

“doongie, dori where is your sister?” you asked the two cats. dori meows and walks, seems like it was trying to lead you somewhere.

you followed the cat and well you found someone in the backyard petting soongie.

“nishimura riki.” you mumbled under your breath. you watched him smile and pet the tabby cat. it rubs itself on the boy happily, tail curling in happiness.

why did he look so cute? wait-

the boy senses a presence looking at him and as such, he looks up. you stay frozen in your spot. he stands up and opens your back door.

“had fun staring (name).” ni-ki smirks.

“fuck off.”

“how cute, got you all flustered huh.” he teases.

“very funny. why would you get me flustered, nishimura.” you rolled your eyes.

“well, lee. if a good looking guy like me enters someone’s home and they are alone…why wouldn’t any girl get flustered?”

“that just makes you a pervert.” you bite back. ni-ki scoffs.

“fair enough. anyways, I’m here cause my mom told me to call you and your brother over but seeing as to how he left with his boyfriend…you’re home alone.”

“I can handle being home alone myself. I’m not a baby.”

“you wouldn’t be saying that when you were 13.” you gave the boy a sharp glare.

“I told you to not talk about when we were 13. also, can you stop bringing up the past? the past where you hurt me?”

“when did I ever hurt you?” ni-ki says.

“when we fucking broke up.”

“we were young, we both made mistakes. there is nothing for you to dwell over the past we had.” ni-ki rolls his eyes.

“you’re right. I shouldn’t dwell over it but I can’t stop these feelings.” a tear falls. “get out. you’ve already hurt me enough and you’ve lied to me a lot. there is no point of us seeing each other anymore.”

[flashback, 4 years ago]

both you and ni-ki were young and very much in love. no one knew you two dated, everyone only assumed you two were best friends. not even your family or his. which was weird considering the amount of time you two spent together, guess no one really cared.

he was popular with everyone and you were decently acquainted with everyone. there were tons of sneaky dates at the library and maybe cute little pecks here and there. they were innocent of course. that’s how your love was, an innocent puppy love.

but you wanted something more…serious. you sincerely loved ni-ki. you wanted it to continue in the future years and you even thought about marrying him. you were too in love with him. however, ni-ki just wanted something casual. he was too immature and young to think about getting in a serious relationship.

so he has never admitted he loved you. yeah, he confessed but he hasn’t said ‘I love you’. one day, you had confronted him.

“I love you, ni-ki.” you say.

the boy sits there stunned.

“love? don’t normally people who are in a serious relationship say that?” he questions.

“are we not in a serious relationship?” you asked. the boy laughs.

“why would we be? we are young. I still haven’t grown a beard!”

“so you don’t love me?”

“I like you but that doesn’t mean I realise that I want to truly like you with my full heart.”

“oh.”

“I still have many other girls after me, you don’t have to be the only girl I like. besides, we are also best friends. it’s kinda weird still.” he says.

“let’s break up.” you say not looking up at ni-ki.

“okay.” you looked up at him. how could he so casually say that? “i’ve been meaning to start dating aria from our class anyways. think I should ask her out now?”

no remorse whatsoever. that’s when your hatred grew for him.

“go ahead and fucking date her. I’m not your girlfriend anymore and neither am I your best friend anymore.” you threw the necklace. the necklace signified your friendship of 3 years. it was a matching one with ni-ki’s but since you two were officially not friends anymore you gave it back to him.

“what? we can still be friends (name).”

“not with someone who broke my heart.” you say. you cried on the way home. that night, minho had comforted you despite not knowing what happened.

he vowed to hurt the person who hurt you but up till now…he didn’t know it was ni-ki. the person he trusted the most.

[present time]

ni-ki knows you were crying. he remembers the day you had broken up with him. he was stupid he knows. which was why…he vowed to get you back and never let you go again.

but he can’t. he doesn’t know how to. the only thing he was good at was breaking your heart. he was bad at love and he was also afraid. which was why he couldn’t bring himself to hold you close.

he leaves your home. never to come back even though he really wanted to.

the boy enters his home, his mother eyeing his slumped shoulders.

“what happened? why isn’t (name) with you? she’s supposed to have dinner with us. also where is minho?”

“she’s not going to come. minho hyung is out with his boyfriend.”

“what do you mean she’s not coming. it’s dangerous for her to be alone in the house. go watch over her.”

“mom, she’s turning 17 and she’s pretty much independent. I don’t need to watch her.” ni-ki huffs.

“did you two have a fight? riki, sweetie you need to be less assertive. (name) is a sweet girl, you need to be gentle with her.”

“mom, can I please just get to my room?” Mrs.Nishimura sighs.

“fine, I'll just go over then. dinner is on the dining table, have some before you go playing your video games all night as per usual.” ni-ki hums. his mother going over to your home.

you hear a small knock at your door and went to open it. Mrs.Nishimura pulls you into a hug.

“did ni-ki hurt you again (name)? if so, I’m so sorry for my son’s behaviour. I have no idea why he is like this when the both of you were so close in the past.”

she quickly checks up on your face. it was obvious you had just finished crying, she sighs.

“I am so sorry this happened (name).”

“it’s fine Mrs.Nishimura.”

“no, it’s not. he is my son. you two were friends and out of nowhere you two just stopped being friends. I should have prevented it, I should have seen it coming.”

“it’s not your fault Mrs.Nishimura. it was ours, we-” should you really tell her? both you and Mrs.Nishimura were really close. even back then when you were younger.

“what happened sweetheart?”

“we used to date.” Mrs.Nishimura gasps.

“oh my, what did my son do to you?” she asks.

“we were too young, we didn’t know about love. well, mostly ni-ki. I wanted it to be sort of serious but ni-ki didn’t. he said something along the lines of me not being the only one he might fall in love with and there was no guarantee that he might still like me. I broke up with him and he was okay with it. I-” you start to choke up, “I love him.”

this stunned Mrs.Nishimura. she never thought this would happen. she knew it was hard for you and how much you’ve gone through with the heartbreak. she holds you close as you cried on her shoulder.

“oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry this happened to you. I didn’t know you two were once lovers. while I’m happy that you two did date, whatever my son did is not right.” she says to comfort you.

once you’ve calmed down, she caresses your cheek.

“how about you have dinner okay? it will make you feel better and if you’d like, we can chat some more and talk about what happened.”

“thank you, Mrs.Nishimura.”

“oh sweetheart, you can call me aunty. only if you’re comfortable of course.”

“thank you aunty.” she smiles before pointing to the thermal bag.

“go eat sweetie, I need to run back to my house to give my son a big scolding.” she says before she steps away. you held onto her wrist and she turns back to you.

“aunty, can you please not tell him? I don’t want him to find out that you know about our past relationship.”

“of course, sweetheart. in that case, I’ll just grab something for you instead. a sweet treat or something.” she smiles at you before she leaves.

you sighed. at least you didn’t have to lie to Mrs.Nishimura about why you and ni-ki fell out of the close bond.

the next day, you were walking to your class when ni-ki pulls you somewhere secluded. well not so secluded, it was just an empty classroom. the moment he stopped, you pulled your hands away from him, giving him the scariest glare you could do.

“what do you want?”

“my mom.”

did Mrs.Nishimura tell him?

“she knows about us.” ah so she did.

“and what about it? what we had was in the past, why do you care if she knows?”

“because she’s my mom (name). she was never supposed to find out about us.”

“you’ve always wanted to keep us a secret. have you ever thought about telling her or your dad eventually?”

“never.” ni-ki says

“oh wow, how selfish of you. i can't believe you. this is why we broke up. you never thought of being in a serious relationship with me, you never wanted to show me off and you wanted me to be a secret. I never wanted to be your sneaky link.”

“who said you were my sneaky link? (name), I liked you.”

“oh really? remember all those dates we had? hidden, kept away, that’s all i was. then with what you said after we broke up? you wanted to date another girl after I literally just ended the relationship. do you ever have remorse? was I ever someone important to you?”

“of course (name). you have always been the most important to me.”

“cut with the bullshit, riki. If you had ever liked me, you should have stopped me from breaking up with you but you didn’t. you left me to cry for days, get sick and made me hate myself for so long. do you know how hurt i was? i genuinely thought i’d die from crying so much. and why? because i loved you. that’s how much i liked your stupid ass and now i’ve sort of moved on from you, you stop me from getting the happiness i deserve? why are you toying with my feelings?”

by now, tears were already flowing across your cheeks. the silence was deafening and you just wanted to leave, and so you tried to but not without ni-ki pulling on your wrist and pulling you into a hug. you don’t even register he was hugging you until you feel your shoulders getting wet. ni-ki was crying, he let his walls down.

“i’m so fucking sorry.” ni-ki whispers. you tried to push him away but he only holds onto you tighter. “please, don’t leave me.” he whispers again.

you stood there frozen, you let ni-ki cry on your shoulders. you were already late to class so a few more minutes with ni-ki wouldn’t hurt or it possibly could. you feel small pecks on your neck, something ni-ki did in the past while he was cuddling with you. he freezes and lets you go.

“i-i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have overstepped your boundaries. we aren’t dating anymore and you have feelings for someone else now. i should respect that. i should go.” ni-ki leaves the room.

your heart still longed for him no matter if he hurt you multiple times, you wanted him to be selfish for once and realise that he is worthy of you. 

“nishimura riki, you have once again hurt me.” you couldn’t cry anymore even if you wanted to, you just went to class.

after school, you went to the dance studio. heeseung obviously knows you weren’t okay so he stops you from continuing the routine.

“hey, are you okay?”

“yeah, i’m fine.”

“(name). you know you can always trust me.” you breathed in.

“heeseung oppa, i like you.” heeseung’s eyes widened.

“oh, (name). umm, i’m sorry but i don’t see you like that.” he says trying to let you down in the most gentle way possible. you felt like crying and not because of heeseung but because of ni-ki. a tear slips out and heeseung panics.

“h-hey, i’m sorry. you don’t have to cry.” he wipes the tears falling. you laughed while trying to wipe the falling tears.

“it’s okay, i’m not crying because of the rejection.”

“oh, then what’s wrong?”

“ni-ki.” you say. heeseung tilts his head, you told him what happened. he was a little shocked to find out the reason why you two were enemies in the first place.

“(name), i think you should be upfront with him. tell him how you really feel, how much you still like him. ni-ki hasn’t dated anyone else and we have been wondering why. he never talks about why so we thought something happened, we never thought you were the reason why.”

“you make me sound so evil.”

“(name), you know that’s not what i mean.” heeseung huffs. you giggled.

“i know.” you hear the door crack open and followed by a slap on the arm and complaints. heeseung facepalms.

“boys.” heeseung says. they pile out. “how long have you been standing there for?”

“since (name) confessed to you.” jake says. sunghoon slaps the boy’s arm.

“curse you for being painfully truthful.” sunghoon whines.

jake shrugs, “well, i am not going to just lie about it.”

“we were eavesdropping, that’s equally as bad as lying.” jay says. jake pouts.

“well all of you know why me and ni-ki hate each other. even you minho.” you say. minho walks out from behind sunghoon, awkwardly laughing.

“sorry, (name). anyways, doesn’t that mean the reason why you cried so much when you were thirteen-”

“was because ni-ki and i broke up. yes, that’s why i cried so much.”

“oh my baby sister.” minho goes to hug you and you pushed him away. “I’m so sorry your heart got broken by a pubescent 13 year old boy.” you smacked his arm.

“god why did i have to have you as my brother.” you groaned.

“you love me (name).” minho says.

“yeah, unfortunately.” minho huffs at your words.

“okay so how are we going to get ni-ki to confess to you again.” jake says.

“jake there is no point. that boy is stubborn.” you say.

“you’re right, you should date me instead.” sunghoon says.

“dude, now is not the time to say this!” jay says.

“I was kidding. I mean, i’m park sunghoon. i’m sure, anyone would love to date me.” minho high-fives sunghoon.

“that’s my fav boy.” he says. you scoffed.

“let’s just drop this.” you grabbed your things and left the studio. minho runs after you.

“(name). come on, you have a whole team who are more than prepared to give you that cute high school relationship!”

“minho, i already said to drop it. I really don’t want to go through this whole problem over a boy who doesn’t like me.”

“are you sure he doesn’t like you, (name)?”

at minho’s words, your mind replays what happened earlier in the classroom.

“don’t leave me, please.”

ni-ki cried. he was never one to show his feelings. that was his most vulnerable state that you’ve seen him in. 

“yes, he doesn’t like me.” you say. you weren’t sure yourself.

“you’re denying it. i can see it in your eyes. you know something that we don’t.”

“minho, i just really don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m tired.” you say. minho takes note of the painful tone you had. your voice wavered.

“alright, i’ll stop. you should go home.” you nod at his words and went home. minho sighs and goes back to where the others were.

“hyung, how did it go?”

“nothing much. i think it’s best if we ask ni-ki. the both of them used to date each other, clearly they still like each other.” minho says.

“jungwon, do you know where ni-ki’s class is?”

“of course, follow me.”

however, when they went to find ni-ki he was nowhere to be found. they decided to visit his home. as for you, as you were about to open the door. you could hear mewls coming from inside, you were worried about the cats so you went in. you noticed the cats surrounding ni-ki as he cries.

“why are you here and also you practically broke into my house.”

ni-ki was alarmed, “i’m sorry. i just walked in here aimlessly. my house is also locked and i don’t have the keys.”

“don’t you have classes in afternoon?”

“I didn’t go.”

“oh.”

ni-ki shivers. you went towards and placed a hand on his forehead. you sighed.

“you’re having a fever. come on, how about you go take a warm shower and then lay in the guest bedroom. i’ll grab some medicine from the cabinet.” you went to walk away but ni-ki grabs your wrist.

“don’t leave me, please.” he weakly says.

“I won’t, i’ll be here in the house while you go bathe. i need to grab clothes for you too.” ni-ki nods. he stands up to go to the bathroom. you left him a towel outside the door and clothes on the bed. you shut the bedroom door.

why were you suddenly taking care of ni-ki? he was the one who hurt you constantly and here you were. you shouldn’t be doing this. your heart aches. you decided to make him some warm honey water and grab the medicine from the cabinet. maybe you should make him a little something to eat, you weren’t sure if he even ate lunch. how did he even get sick in the first place?

you decided to make him a sandwich since it was the only easy thing you were able to prepare. you knocked on the door with a tray in your other hand. you heard ni-ki mutter ‘come in’ so you entered. you nearly froze in your steps when you noticed the hoodie he had on. it was the hoodie you had gifted him with while you were dating, it fit just nice since ni-ki had grown quite a lot.

the boy tries to dry his hair with the towel you handed him with. you placed down the tray onto the nightstand before grabbing the towel and helping him dry his hair. it was an unconscious gesture since you used to help ni-ki dry his hair after he finished bathing. he stays quiet. once you were done, you looked down at him. he was looking up at you and you looked away.

“i made something for you to eat before you have your medicine. there’s honey water too in case your throat is soar. I’ll be in my room-”

“stay, please.” he voices out.

“I have to study.”

“then study here. i need you, please.”

your heart races. you sighed.

“fine, i’ll grab my things and study here.” ni-ki nods and you go to grab your study materials and notes. you came back and placed your materials on the ground.

“you can do the work on the bed.”

“with you on the bed? i’m not your friend, nishimura.”

“i’m sick and you are technically responsible for me.”

“i am not responsible for you-”

“you saw me and helped me. this means you are responsible for me.”

“what are you? five?”

“you used to care for me when we were dating.”

“please stop bringing up the past.”

“the past that i miss.” ni-ki says. You froze.

“don’t lie to me. you never missed me. you only wanted to fool around.”

“I regret saying that.”

“well too bad, nishimura. we broke up. that’s it, that was the end of us.”

“it doesn’t have to end, (name).”

“if i gave you another chance, you’d just throw it away again.”

“i wouldn’t.”

“ni-ki.” you say.

“(name), i really really love you.”

what was this sick joke he was playing.

“i used to look forward to hearing you say that but now it just seems like a joke to me. you don’t have to put pity on me. i know i was desperate back when we were young. i just really liked you so much.”

“i am not joking with you, (name).”

“prove it then. if you love me so much.”

“I’m sick, (name).”

“well, that sucks then-” ni-ki leans in and kisses you. your eyes widened, you could feel his lips moving against yours. this was really passionate but soft. ni-ki has never kissed you like this before. your eyes flutter shut and you kissed him back.

ni-ki sighs into the kiss, his hands reaches up to your cheek to hold it. he tilts his head to slightly deepen the kiss. one that shows how much he treasured you and how sorry he felt for hurting you. you pulled away.

“i love you.” he says it once again.

“ni-ki, we can’t make this official.”

“i know. i’ve hurt you a bunch of times. we’ll take it slow.” you nod.

“i need to trust you first. i can’t bring myself to just forgive you.”

“alright. can i at least hold you?”

you nod before climbing into the bed. he wraps his arms around your waist. the both of you laid down on the bed. it was a little awkward but ni-ki still felt at ease knowing he was able to hold you.

A year later, you were in your bedroom playing games with ni-ki. he attempts to sabotage you in mario kart.

“yah, ni-ki!”

“too bad, babe!” he sticks out his tongue.

“hey! you guys started the game without us!” jake huffs. both you and ni-ki smirked at each other.

“we started first because i wanted to play a round with my girlfriend.”

“urgh, i am not over this. it’s been 5 months since you two started dating and you’re already pulling the ‘couple’ card.” jay says.

“oh, it’s been 5 months?” you say.

“5 months with my beautiful girl.” ni-ki squeezes you and pecks your cheek.

jungwon gags at the sight, “I liked it better when they fought.” 

“i have to agree with that.” minho says.

“young love.” heeseung shrugs.

“let’s back out of the game so they can play, ni-ki.” you pat his arm.

“okay.”

“IM PLAYING AS PRINCESS PEACH!” sunoo yells.

in the end, you got your happy ending.

with the same boy who hurt you.

nishimura riki.

[beesmygod]

today is webcomics day. i am bea and i make "A Ghost Story" - part 1: pre-gaming

webcomic day is a yearly celebration of the art form concocted by the screentones podcast team as a way for people to see how the sausage gets made. my webcomic "a ghost story" has been running for over 10 years, and yet i still don't think i can say i am good at making a webcomic. regardless, the comic is getting made because otherwise i become very, very sick in the head. today i would like to share with you the process of making a page of "A Ghost Story" from start to finish. either this demystifies the process or will make you think im so cool and strong for doing this 2x a week. instead of reblogging this one post until it gets very long, i will be posting individual updates that i will then compile and post on my personal website. block the tags now if you HATE comics and want them to EXPLODE.

if you have any questions, even things like "what the fuck are you even talking about" feel free to ask. i want to feel confident in what i make again and i think sometimes interrogation from an outside source is really

---

that said, let's get started. wait just kidding i want a cup of coffee first, hold on.

ok now im ready. i have a big glass of water. i have coffee. i have a headset for the parts of work that don't involve typing words. i can't type words and listen to some streamer babble in my ear at the same time, so it has to be instrumental music or nothing. i just took my meds so they should kick in after about 30 mins. i woke up late today, which is weird and annoying. but maybe i can work late instead.

first off, i need to know where i'm going beyond this one page. if i dont know where im going with something, then i usually create something that sucks that i have to deal with later. hold on my internet died, i have to reset the router. ok, anyway.

what's rattling around in my brain is that not only do i have to deal with maxine's current predicament, i am also dealing with multiple plot elements i need to wrap back around to from the previous chapter. luckily, im about to put maxine down for a nap, which means i can get back to those other elements:

i need to finish the exposition from the three ankou characters for this story arc establishing their motivations as the oppositional force in the story. the "villain" is not these three specifically, but their boss. they need to have a loose understanding of what's going on in order to communicate this to the audience. god this started turning into a huge ass paragraph so i'll just keep it short there.

we've jumped back to before jack's horrible day from the first chapter of this storyline so we have to make our way back toward that and then lapping it, which means wrapping up his various open threads like:

feeding victoria and learning something new about her

finding out alice is a very exceptional employee who is getting many awards

watching valdo call lily while interrupting her during something personal to ask her for help with maxine's situation.

jack meeting with valdo and lily the day after they first met so jack can just tell them straight up that lily has 4 sisters she doesnt know about.

help that girl with her poltergeist problem. remember that. i've had jokes for this rattling in my head for like 4 years. im going insane.

and also the fucking tilberi!!! that has a point its going somewhere!!! there's a larger menace here!!!

other things to set up the climax of this storyline. sexual tensions, hints at larger emotional problems not immediately evident to the reader

lots of moving parts. and i feel like im moving in slow motion to get to them. i can see them all weaving together in my head, its the process of putting that onto paper that's proving difficult.

ok that took an hour starting and stopping. -_- let me write the next part as i keep brainstorming on how to approach this page. taking a "rubber duck" approach to this might help. heres an image from the last page i worked on (i have a 5 page buffer rn so the site does not match the finished pages) to get us semi-situated.

also because images will help people understand what skill level we're working with here. i need to be able to communicate an idea to the audience; if the art also looks good on top of that, then that's just an added bonus. but the ability to communicate my ideas is sometimes hampered by my lack of artistic skill or comics language ineptitude. like those speech bubbles kind of fucking suck but at a certain point you have to just hit print on what you're working on in order to keep your already glacial pace.

webcomics is a tightrope act where you're also spinning 4 plates at once. the trick is to keep the audience from realizing how many actually fall or how wobbly they all are. the act sucks but technically its not a failure.

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

Part two for Nothing New? Were peds!reader and Wilson make up.

But only of you see fit. I'm just a sucker for a happy ending.

Anyway, love ur writing🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Will You Still Want Me?

pt 2 of Nothing New

James Wilson x peds!reader

*James’ pov*

I must have a little filter in my brain which is specifically designed to ruin my relationships with women. How stupid could I have been. The world presented me with the love of my life who was in pain and upset and instead of comforting her I simply decided to open my huge mouth and fuck everything up.

After that day I had come home and she wasn’t there. She’d packed a single suitcase, leaving the rest of her stuff. It gave me some hope as it would only sustain her a few days, but then again I could just be the chump who gets excited to see her come, only to find out she was going to pack everything up.

I’ve been such an idiot and I had rang her to tell her that many times. Eventually she stopped picking up, and I stopped trying.

I stopped outside our door, the weight of the day hanging heavy. I didn’t even want to open it, feeling there was nothing behind it that would bring me any happiness anymore. I eventually relented and unlocked the door. I peeled it open and I was met with the sight of Y/n sat on our couch.

Her eyes were wet and puffy, she was dressed in leggings and my old jumper she’d obviously taken with her. She looked so beautiful.

“Hi.” I muttered out. She wiped away her tears when she saw me but she managed out a smile.

“Hi.”

“What are you—I mean it’s your home so you’re always welcome of course but---I wasn’t expecting you.” I stumbled through my words.

“It was getting a bit crowded at my sisters. I’d started out at mum and dads but that didn’t last long. So yeah I’m back.” She seemed unsure of where her body stood and it pained me to see her uncomfortable in our home, with me.

“Are you back, back?” I slowly made my way over, afraid of startling her into bolting.

“I – I don’t—I don’t know.” She fiddled with the ends of my jumper.

“Look, I am so unbelievably happy to see you again, honey, but I think we need to sit down and talk because I have a lot I need to say to you.” I placed my hand on her shoulder.

“I know. Sorry for ignoring your calls.”

“It’s fine.” Our voices were now in a whisper.

I led her to sit down on the couch once again. Our knees touched but when they made contact she flinched away and hugged her legs into her body. My face fell at this.

“I was an idiot.” I began. “That’s it. There was nothing else to our fight except for my pure stupidity. You were hurting and I wasn’t there for you. And I will spend the rest of my life trying to make that up to you.” She giggled at my dramatics but a few tears slipped down as well.

“You are the best thing in my life, and the thought that you are hurting, and that people have hurt you, pains me.” As my words carried on she seemed to relax and unlatch her legs. At this I took my chance and stroked a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

“You are a smart, talented, beautiful, and kind woman. And you do not deserve any of the horrible things that have happened to you because of disgusting and entitled men.” My hand fell to stroke up and down her back in a soothing gesture. “I know you do not need me to save you because you are strong enough.” I brought my hand up to her chin and tilted it so her eyes met mine. “But do not think for a second that I won’t always be there to fight for you.”

There was a pause and I looked into her eyes searching for any sign of uncertainty.

Suddenly she threw her arms around my neck, and we linked in the tightest hug. It was as if that week of absence was pouring out it’s love into each other. I felt her begin to sob into my neck and it encouraged my body to let a few tears of my own slip out. I hadn’t realised how much I fully missed her and I squeezed tighter just so I could know she was really there.

We pulled away and giggled out at both our teary faces. She cupped my face in her hands and leant forward to plant a smooching kiss onto my lips. Our tears mingled as we met.

“I missed you so much baby, I really wanted to hold a grudge but I knew I wouldn’t last much longer without you.” She giggled out. We collapsed down so we were lying intermingled on the couch together.

“Don’t worry, I was seconds away from throwing stones at your window. But your sister would have probably turned the hose on me.” I kissed her button nose and she scrunched it in delight.

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN - request here

[hangmanbradshaw]

So when I knew I wanted to write a sports AU, IWTBY and this idea had both been rattling around my brain for a long time. I ended up going with IWTBY (it had been something I'd wanted to write for a long time), but here's the other that almost was? It's clunky, un-edited and half thought out (literally just pulled from the quick bit I wrote all those months ago), but this is what we're going with for day 9! Enjoy

Jake sighed as he stepped off the plane. He knew this was a bad idea, had no clue what he was thinking taking this meeting. He scoffed at himself- Philadelphia of all places. If his old man could see him now, he’d be rolling in his grave, cursing about Cowboys having no place playing for Eagles. Not that Jake had ever even been a Cowboy, but being raised in Texas made that fact irrelevant. 

He was brought out of his musings by a call of his name. He glanced around and found Javy standing and waving to the side near the arrivals door. He smiled as he walked over to him, wrapping his arm around him in a hug. 

“I can’t believe you’re here, man. I thought for sure there was no chance in hell you’d even consider this.” 

“You and me both, Javy.”

“Come on. I know Nat is waiting. I’ll drop you at her office.” He guided Jake towards the exit and out to his car. As they drove downtown, Jake looked out the window and watched the buildings pass by in a blur. He’d never actually spent serious time in Philadelphia, had only played there once or twice since the Eagles weren’t a team usually on his schedule when he was with the Chargers.

They parked in a garage near a tall office building, and Javy guided Jake into the building, hitting the button for the 50th floor once in the elevator. 

“So, are you really thinking about saying yes?” Javy asked as he peered over at him.

He had no clue how to answer that so he merely shrugged. Part of him still didn’t believe this was happening. He thought his career was over, and now here he was standing in an elevator in a new city, discussing potential contract options.

“I know you’re worried. Hell, I would be too if I was you, but man- you are way too talented to not give this a shot.” Javy continued. He tried to catch Jake’s eyes, and held eye contact once he did. “I’m saying this as your best friend and also a fan. What could it hurt?”

Before Jake could answer, the elevator doors opened with a ding. He stepped out and took a deep breath, turning to Javy. “I’ll call you when it’s over, we can grab dinner.” 

“Sure thing. Remember, I’m rooting for you. And for the love of god, at least try to fake a smile. I’d really like to play on a team with my best friend, and I can’t do that if you scowl your way out of this option.” 

Javy stepped back into the elevator as Jake lazily saluted him. With that, he turned on his heel and headed towards Nat’s office. Her assistant was sitting at a desk outside her door, and she looked up when Jake approached.

“Hi, how may I help you?” 

“I’m here to meet with Nat, uh, Miss Trace. I’m Jake…Seresin. She asked me to come in today.” 

“Oh yes, she let me know to expect you. She had to step out for a moment, but you’re welcome to wait in her office.” 

Jake nodded and moved towards the door, slipping inside. He had expected the room to be empty so he really couldn’t be blamed for the minor heart attack he had when he saw a man sitting in the office, lazily scrolling through his phone. The man looked up when he heard Jake let out a totally dignified “Shit!”

“You okay?” The guy asked, looking like he was trying to hold in a laugh.

“Yeah, just wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here.” He stopped, raised an eyebrow as he looked at him. “Who are you?”

The man raised an eyebrow back. “I’m Bradley.”

“What are you doing here?” 

“I could ask you the same. What exactly is Jake Seresin doing here, in a sports agent’s office in Philadelphia?” 

Jake blinked. “You know who I am?”

The man, Bradley, Jake reminded himself, didn’t answer. Instead, he seemed to be thinking through something, and his eyes sparked as he asked “the Eagles?” 

“I’m sorry, can we go back to who are you?”

Bradley looked confused. “I already told you.”

“You know what I mean. Why are you here, in Nat’s office when I’m supposed to be meeting with her?” 

“Well, I conveniently had a meeting with her too at the same time that she also still hasn’t shown up for. Imagine that.” 

He had a look in his eyes like he knew something Jake didn’t. Before Jake could muster up a reply at this bizarre conversation, the door opened, and Nat came flurrying in, coffee in one hand and her cell in the other. She immediately spotted Jake, and smiled.

“Jake! Hi!” She pulled him into a hug then hit him in the arm.

“Ow! What the hell, Nat?”

“That’s what you get for not visiting sooner.” 

“I was busy.”

“You were sulking. And that’s no excuse.”

“Sorry if I didn’t want to see my agent and be reminded of everything.”

She leveled him with a softer look. “I get that, but I’m also your friend, and you can’t disappear like that.” 

He raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. You’re right.” 

She took that as the closest apology she knew she’d get, and nodded. He looked over at Bradley, who was watching the whole thing with a curious quirk of a smile, then back to Nat.

“Oh, sorry.” Nat said, not looking sorry in the slightest. A grin curled at her lips as she said, “Jake, this is Bradley. Bradley, Jake. Although I’m guessing you all got acquainted while waiting.”

“Oh yeah, while you conveniently double scheduled us without even being here?” Bradley leveled her with a look. She gave him a smirk back and Bradley raised his eyebrows at her. Jake could tell they were having some kind of silent conversation, but he was totally lost as to what it was.

“Mmm, scheduling issue, my bad. Total accident.” She smiled a shit eating grin. 

Jake looked between the two and slowly interrupted. “Right…so can we talk about this offer?”

That got her to spring into action. She walked over to her laptop and tapped away, pulling up some files. 

“Okay, I’ve been working with the Eagles office on this for a few weeks now. They want you- it would start at a one year deal, but it’s a solid offer. A decent guarantee, lots of potential bonus opportunities.”

“Nat, I don’t know. Is it worth it to go through all this to sit on a bench all year playing backup?” 

She grinned. “Who said anything about a bench?”

That momentarily stopped him. He opened and closed his mouth. “Starter? No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way.” 

He slowly backed up and reached behind him to find a seat. When he did, he sat down. He genuinely couldn’t believe this. He blinked out of his daze and saw Nat grinning still, and to the side, Bradley was smiling softly.

“I…I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes, obviously. Then say thank you Nat, you’re the best agent and a friend a guy can ask for.”

“I need to think about it. This…I just didn’t expect this to even be a possibility.” He stopped, furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand- why me? What’s the catch?”

“There isn’t a catch. You’re a hell of a player, and this is a great deal for them.”

“But…the accident.”

She smiled sadly. “Yeah, but they can see what we see- that you’re just as valuable now as you were before. And they want to cash in on that potential. They believe in you, Jake. It’s as simple as that.” 

He momentarily was brought back to a flashback of sirens, red and blue lights, radiating pain in his leg, a doctor telling him he wouldn’t play again, his career up in smoke after only two years. He shook his head, tried to remove himself from the memories. 

“Let me think about it. Can you email me the contract to look over?”

“Of course. But I really think this is the right move for you. A fresh start, new city. You’d be playing with Javy. I’m here. You’d have a support system already, and a team that actually believes in you.” 

Jake hesitated, bit his lip. “I don’t know, Nat. Philadelphia?” 

“I had a feeling you’d need some extra convincing. It’s a good fit for you, trust me, but if anyone can show you some Philly magic, it’s our dear Rooster here.” She nodded towards Bradley. 

“Rooster?” 

Bradley gave Nat a look then smiled back over at Jake. “Nickname. Don’t ask.”

“Oh, I’m definitely asking.”

Bradley hummed and said, “I’ll make you a deal. Let me show you around Philly. If you still hate it at the end and I don’t manage to change your opinion, I’ll tell you.” 

“And if you do happen to succeed? I gotta say, you’re not giving me any incentive to like it.”

“I’ll still tell you. But you have to sign the contract.” 

Jake tapped his arm as he thought it over before asking, “And why do you want me to sign the contract? What are you, a secret Eagles employee or something?”

Bradley quirked an eyebrow at Nat. She sighed and said, “I wasn’t kidding when I told you he doesn’t know baseball.” She directed her gaze back his way and explained, “This is Bradley Bradshaw, star outfielder and hitter for the Phillies. You may remember him as the MVP for the conference last year?” 

“And long time Philly resident. At your service.” He smiled.

Well, Jake felt dumb. “Uh…sorry? My bad. I really don’t follow baseball.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Well, maybe that’s something else we can fix.” He smirked.

“Yeah, or maybe you just need to play a more interesting sport.” 

“Ouch. And here I was, going to show you the best secrets of this city.”

“Which, speaking of- why?” 

Bradley shrugged, but Jake could swear he looked like he was blushing, except that made no damn sense at all.

“I’m an Eagles fan, and also a fan of yours. So yeah, I have ulterior motives. Sue me for wanting us to get a great player.” 

Jake caught Nat roll her eyes in his periphery. He thought he heard her mutter about sure, that’s all it is, but he wasn’t sure.

“Alright. You’re on then. Wow me, Bradshaw.” 

Bradley grinned brightly. It was on.

[fionajames]

Hey Jamieeeeeeee

So about that Rex x reader thing…. 🤭 may I request that please? But can I ask if the reader can be apart of the war and gets hurt a lot because she cares about her troopers, like she can take on Krell with her bare hands because he looked at Rex wrong? (This totally isn’t related to an OC I’m writing a story about, wdym)

line of fire - rex

A/N: Hey, Sha!!! Hru? Hope this is what you wanted, srry it took so long! Please send requests guys!!!

It was well known in the Republic’s army that you were very protective over your troops, not to mention self-less. It worried many people - not that you were aware it did - including some of the other Jedi Generals, a particular Padawan and many Clones.

It showed now especially, when you stood in front of your Commander glaring down a monster taller than you. Said monster was staring at you with cold intrigue, eyes flickering with bloodshot yellow. It took a lot of your will and mind not to activate your lightsaber and plunge its blade into his chest right then and there.

“Master Krell,” you snarled, pointing a finger at him. “I am in charge of my own troops. I treat them the way I think is right, if you have a problem, you can take it up with Master Yoda, but never - and I’ll repeat, never - speak to my Commander or Clones that way.” 

Your Commander was spluttering quietly behind you, desperately attempting to convince you to let it be. “General, please,” he whispered, his voice cracking with fear. 

“You forget, young one,” Krell growled, ignoring the Clone’s feverishly spoken words. “That you are below me.” 

“I may be,” you snapped back, stepping away from your Commander and forcing Krell further away from your troops. “But many aren’t. Many that would agree with me.”

The Jedi glared at you for a few more moments, before turning and leaving. You smirked slightly, watching him storm off. But that was when it clicked. His eyes had been yellow, but not a normal colour yellow, bloodshot yellow.

The eyes of a-

Sith.

Without another thought you leapt forward, holding the blade of your lightsaber against his throat, giving you a clear look at the colour. “You traitor,” you snarled. Now that you knew, you couldn’t help but wonder how you’d missed it. Krell was seeping dark energy.

“The only traitor here is you!” Krell snapped instead, his lightsaber clashing with yours. And so the fight began. You traded lightsaber strikes back and forth, your troops surrounding the pair of you, ready to get a shot at the monster when you weren’t in risk.

It wasn’t a very long battle, as you were a very skilled fighter. When you managed to push him far enough away, the Clones opened fire, and the monster fell limp. You arrested and detained Krell, comming Yoda to tell him of the betrayal. He was saddened, but grateful you’d spotted the wanna-be-Sith.

Only a few hours later, you found yourself in the medbay of Anakin Skywalker’s ship. Your memory was too foggy to remember why or how you got there, more focused on the lightsaber burns and near-misses on your skin. They were instantly cauterised by the heat of the lightsaber, but Krell had also managed to grab and throw you several times, leaving huge gashes seeping with blood.

The quiet of the room was interrupted when a familiar Clone burst through the door, worry rolling off of him in waves like a sea. Kix had left earlier after cleaning your wounds and giving you some meds or drugs that had definitely not helped with the foggy state your brain was in.

“Are you alright?” Rex called, rushing to your side. You couldn’t find the energy to respond, so instead you sat on the cot, rocking from side-to-side subconsciously. Your mouth tasted metallic already, and the idea of talking just made you want to vomit. “Cyar’ika?” 

“‘M alright,” you drawled, leaning forward to rest your forehead on Rex’s shoulder, closing your eyes. Words felt like bricks on your tongue. 

“You don’t look alright,” he fretted, assessing your state with a furrowed brow and fearful brown eyes. “In fact, you look anything but fine.” 

“Fine,” you repeated, whimpering ever-so-slightly at the burn of bile in your throat. “Water.” 

Your friend - or maybe you were more, but neither of you had really decided on labels - moved to grasp a glass and fill it with water, holding it to your lips gently. You took the cup from his hands gratefully, drinking quickly. Your throat burned less.

“Cyar’ika, what were you thinking?” Rex whispered, but it was rhetorical. He interlaced your fingers, his chin resting on your head. “You could’ve been killed. We don’t deserve to be stood up for like that, especially when it points someone else’s life on the line.” 

You sat up abruptly, glaring weakly into his brown eyes. “You do!” You snapped, tears welling in your eyes. You were exhausted - mentally and physically - and wounded, a comment so carelessly said was more than enough to push you over the edge. “It’s not fair that you guys are so ill-treated, you deserve much more!” 

You were slightly offended on behalf of your troops, as Rex wasn’t just talking about himself, he meant all Clones.

Rex’s eyes widened, realising he’d gone too far, he wrapped his arms around you. “Oh, cyar’ika, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“You did!” You cried out pathetically, too frustrated to be calmed quickly. “You did and I hate it!”

Not knowing what he should do, Rex pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I was just worried. I got so scared when the General got Master Yoda’s comm.” 

You sighed, moving to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “‘T’s alright,” you murmured, voice muffled. Rex sighed contently.

“Please don’t do that again.” 

“Do what again?” 

“Go around fighting Sith,” he managed to say, a crack of pain in his voice.

“Y’know me, Rex, I can’t stop for too long.”

“Oh, hush, cyar’ika, or I’m going to get Kix to keep you here.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“I will, now hush.”

A moment of silence, then-

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

A/N: Hope you enjoyed, send requests please!!!

[howtofightwrite]

Hello! I have a very particular sort of scene that I've been trying to get right for over ten years now and I can't make it work; I hope perhaps you can help.

A husband and wife duo who have Mixed Feelings about one another are trying to break out of a facility. (He was recently discovered to be a spy, she is a conscripted soldier in the facility. She was sent to escort him to execution but hesitated - I'm not sure where, in the cell, in the hall? - and - he took advantage of this hesitation? she was arrested as a traitor? - I don't know that either, yet - and they end up running through the halls together to escape)

The facility is vaguely sci-fi; think Star Wars Original Trilogy-style weapons, and there is space travel, but technology isn't... wildly advanced. Like it's not all digital and holograms and hand-wavey stuff, it's only a little more advanced than what we have available now. (Like SW OT.)

Point A is them in the cell. Point B is them on a spaceship breaking free.

I cannot get them from Point A to Point B with any kind of plausibility, or without staggering incompetence on the part of the soldiers and commanders in the facility.

They would likely be armed with only her sidearm, unless they happened to grab rifles off of further escorts sent with her?

I'm sorry this is so vague, thank you in advance for any help!

Personally, I’m of the opinion that any scene that’s been marinating in the brain for a long time (especially for years) has deeper structural/internal issues than just putting together action. Just from reading your question, I can feel the way you’ve laid this specific scenario out breaking your own suspension of disbelief. You’ve got several problems that have built up over time and, now, they’re all working against you.

Change if it’s Not Working

One of the best pieces of writing advice I ever got came from being forced to memorize my martial arts school’s Ten Steps to Mastery as part of my first test for black belt. I only remember the first five and I can’t guarantee they’re all in order.

Set a goal

Take action

Pay attention to detail

Practice, Practice, Practice

Change if it’s not working

Regardless of whether you’re practicing a front kick or writing a full length novel, flexibility is important. The more we try to force something to work, the less likely it will. Training flaws into your technique means they’ll be more difficult to correct later. So, don’t forget to stop and look at the larger picture if you feel yourself getting stuck.

Remember, change isn’t failure. Writing is a complex process and not every idea, plotline, character moment, or scene is going to work out when fit into a larger context. And that’s okay.

Outside emotional exhaustion and stress, my writer’s block kicks in when I’ve taken a wrong turn in the narrative or am avoiding a difficult emotional moment that my characters need to face before their story can progress. Something has made me/them uncomfortable and instead of facing it, I’m attempting to avoid the uncomfortable feeling by throwing some other distracting piece, usually action, in the way. I call these moments false notes. I usually hit them when I’m coming at the story from an external perspective (what have I seen other characters do in other stories/films?) rather than an internal one. (What would this character do?)

If something isn’t working, stop trying to make it work. Instead look for what you’re missing, and where the pieces aren’t connecting. It’s usually further back than the scene you’re working on.

My characters are always right. I’m either not listening or going about it the wrong way.

Food for thought.

Your Heroes are Reactively Active

We hear a lot from the writing community about the importance of Active Characters. These are characters who are doing things to move the plot forward. They make choices. They take action. Then, there are passive or, what I like to call, reactive characters. They are characters who react to things in their environment, whatever that is, but they’re not actively making choices. Passive characters get a bad rap in American storytelling tradition (more so than in the wider Western storytelling tradition.)

Passive characters really shine when working with characters who are in settings where they’re struggling to survive. In the real world, passivity is one of the best ways to survive abuse. Any victim of long term or systemic abuse can tell you that standing up and fighting back, especially in situations where you have no power or means to change your circumstances, makes the situation exponentially worse. You’ve got to gray rock it out, suppress, and survive.

Lastly, there are characters I like to call reactively active. These are characters who feel like they’re being active but are actually just reacting to actions taken by other characters. They appear a lot in YA Fantasy, but they’re everywhere. And, because these characters are always reacting to another character’s (usually the villain’s) actions and choices, they get an easy out when it comes to escaping narrative consequences for the things they do. It’s a deceptive sleight of hand used to maintain a character’s moral purity. These characters appear active on the surface, but, underneath, they’re passively reacting to the narrative events inflicted on them. They don’t take action. They respond to action with action.

Let’s get back to your scenario.

We have a husband and wife in some sort of heavily or, at least, decently fortified, military installation. The husband has been outed as a spy, put in whatever functions as a prison or holding cell within the complex, and scheduled to be executed. The wife is a loyal soldier who must now choose between her love for her husband and her love of duty.

This has the makings of some good drama.

The first obvious problem point is that these characters are trying to do too many things at once. They’re coming to terms with their deep feelings of betrayal, experiencing a last minute change of heart, making a snap decision to escape, and rapidly coming up with a plan to escape in the heat of the moment. If this feels unbelievable, it’s because it is and, even better, doubles for putting the characters in a reactive or passive state. The wife character isn’t acting, so much as she’s reacting last minute to the immediate, impending danger. That would be fine if she wasn’t also having to help carry the burden of coming up with The Plan.

There’s the surface level here, where the last minute change of heart is mimicking the kinds of behavior seen in countless other forms of media regarding escape scenes. However, this narrative decision happening in the heat of the moment is also allowing the character to skate over the emotional consequences of her own betrayal. She’s not choosing so much as she’s being forced to make a choice. And that is removing her agency.

If she makes the choice earlier, starts putting The Plan in place with the help of some friends/colleagues (even if it happens largely off page) then executes at the cell, she takes back her agency and retains her status as an active character.

The difference here is in the processing time. Characters can’t plausibly escape fortified lock up without a plan or, really, The Plan.

The Narrative Structure of Last Minute Rescues

The first problem in your scenario is that you have two characters, neither of which are doing the pre-planning legwork required to successfully execute The Plan. Rescues are like heists, they either take a village or require characters who are extremely meticulous and actively manipulating the village to fill in the gaps. (James Bond does Option 2 beautifully, but even he has a team behind him.) Usually, both happen to some degree. The burden is segregated out into different pieces for different characters. Normally, there’s at least three. The character locked up is trying to figure out a way to escape, but comes up short. The one on the outside who is putting together the pieces needed to execute the rescue/get away. And, sometimes, the one on the inside who is experiencing a change of heart, who, at the very last minute, turns heel and assists with the rescue (most often in the turn of misfortune where a piece fails and the rescue is at risk of being bungled.)

All of this additional weight/build up/expectation of the non-existent plan is being put on two characters and crammed into a single scene.

Think about the rescue of Princess Leia from the Death Star for a moment. How many characters are required to make that escape work?

Seven.

All of them. If a single character in the entire group is missing, the whole thing falls apart. Even Threepio is necessary, mostly because Artoo can’t talk. This off the cuff, by the seat of our pants rescue requires all seven characters and they still end up bungling it to kill their samurai master.

You need one to turn off the tractor beam so they can actually escape. (Doing the real work.)

You need one to figure out where the princess is being held, unlock the doors, and figure out where they are.

You need two to bullshit past the guards going in and one to pretend to be a prisoner.

You need one to bullshit past the guards a second time to save the one that can’t talk with the floor plan.

You need the princess to be the one to get them back out because she’s the only one with balls.

And none of it mattered because the escape was a trap all along.

While you don’t need these specific roles for everything, escaping from a heavily fortified facility is not a two man job. That’s where the feelings of implausibility and extreme incompetence are coming from. There aren’t enough characters helping to clear the way or be there as a safeguard for when things go wrong. This feeds into the next problem.

Soldiers, Spies, and Their Squads

We have another unintended scenario brewing at the same time. And that’s the exhausted retail employee going on a rampage and slaughtering their surprised colleagues. This really knifes your tension. By reacting to the immediate danger, the wife is not making an active, conscious choice with full knowledge of the consequences, and those consequences are killing people she knows, respects, is friends with, shares a camaraderie, or who are at least familiar to her. These other soldiers aren’t faceless goons. It’s a lot harder to pull the trigger on someone you know than someone you don’t, especially someone who has the same values that you do.

Soldiers aren’t characters who work alone. They have a squad. They’re part of a unit. They have a support network surrounding them that allows them to do their job to the best of their ability. Spies are the same way. They also have a support network which allows them to act to the best of their ability, even when it feels like they’re acting alone. Spies have handlers and they have assets, their job requires they build their own support networks so they have someone who can get into the places where they can’t. Those people may be witting or unwitting assets but they’re still there.

Both of these characters should have fairly extensive support networks to fall back on when in crisis. They’re in crisis. The crisis is both physical and emotional. Where are their people? Two characters who are social archetypes whose jobs and survival during wartime are reliant on building trust and skillful communication have no one willing to put their lives on the line to help them out? They only have each other? That’s staggering incompetence.

Spies aren’t assassins. They’re social animals. Soldiers aren’t lone wolves. They’re social animals. If there’s a structural failure here, it’s happening with your secondary characters.  Ignoring the importance of secondary characters is a mistake that a lot of new writers make and I can feel those early mistakes being carried forward in this scene. This is what Hemingway meant when he said, “kill your darlings.” If an idea isn’t working, if it’s holding you back, kill it. Look at the problem and your work from a new angle. One good line or one good scene, regardless of your emotional attachment to it, doesn’t outweigh the entire work.

Plans and Floor Plans

If you’re having trouble coming up with a character’s escape, step back and take a look at the facility itself. Whether it’s breaking in or breaking out, you, the author, need to have a clear visualization of the entire picture so you can find the weaknesses or fracture points.

Plans are easier to conceptualize when you know what the dangers are and what defenses have been put in place to prevent what your characters are attempting. Which parts of the fortress are better fortified than others? Where does this military expect to be attacked? What have they done to prevent it? What are the patrols? Who are the techs? How does the military support itself while fending off attempts to damage its resources? Who handles the supply lines?

The boring minutiae of your world is what makes it feel real. Action is dependent on your world building and this goes deeper than just their weapons. The social systems in place guide how your characters fight. It’s there in how they perceive their environment, and how they recognize usable tools. If you build a functional and consistent world, the action will take care of itself because violence is a natural response to environmental threats. Violence seeks to exploit established systems, to gain an advantage over them. If the violence is imagined separately from the environment, the violence won’t feel real because it’s not reactive and it’s not reacting to environmental stimuli. From there, it’s not logical.

Ask yourself, why do we use guns?

Then ask yourself, why do your characters use guns? What does it allow them to do that they wouldn’t be able to do otherwise? Or, what does the gun do better than other weapons that makes it the preferred choice?

The answer for the real world and your setting might be the same, and they might be different. Both will influence how the character uses their weapon. How they use their weapon guides how they fight. If you’re lost, ask yourself questions.

For example, let’s take a last look at the prison.

Prisons are built with the expectation of keeping multiple people contained for an extended period of time, preventing them from leaving in the event of an escape, and preventing those who are sympathetic from breaking in to rescue them. What have the characters in your setting (not your protagonists) done to facilitate that goal? What safeguards have been put in place to prevent someone from leaving and entering?

In the real world, prisons are built in a way that two people can’t just walk out. There are points of entry and exit that are designed to be remotely controlled from secure locations and cannot be operated or accessed on the ground. You’d need someone (like R2-D2) who can access the remote functions to get someone past the exits that they can’t open themselves.

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you're already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

[thebluestbluewords]

anti-Valentine’s Valentine’s date

I tried SO HARD to write the adorable Jal prompt that I received for Jalentines day, and instead of cute all my brain wanted to write was angst. Set in approximately D2, it’s a 3k lead-in to a longer Jal fic that I’m probably not going to finish writing.

*

Mal kicks the door of the boy's dorm open with the heel of the stupid, impractical strappy sandals she's been wearing since before dinner. 

Or at least, that's what she tries to do. Instead, because her life is a curse and the very existence of high heels is a prison, the delicate silver heel of the shoe that Evie spent hours sourcing for her snaps off. 

Great. Perfect. This is just how she wanted the night to go. 

Mal pounds on the door with her fist instead. "Open up! I brought misery and disdain for the institution of love!" 

A thump. "And chocolate?" 

"No, I didn't steal any chocolate at all from my date with the king of Auradon," Mal says, as sarcastically as she can manage with one shoe on and the other broken to pieces in her hands. "Just let me in already." 

The door pops open. "You're late." Carlos informs her. "Evie already went back to your room." 

Wonderful. 

"I don't care," Mal informs him right back, and shoves her purse, which is tiny and lilac and stuffed to the brim with all the chocolate she could fit, into his hands. "I need this princess shit off my body yesterday. I am not cut out for valentine's day, that's what I've learned, and also Ben's going to dump me and I don't care."

"Woah. Uh. Maybe you should care--" 

Mal spins around to glare at him, and Carlos immediately throws his hands up. "I MEAN, your judgement is impeccable and we all hate Ben now!" 

Ugh. 

"I don't hate him," Mal snaps, yanking her earrings out and throwing them sort of in the direction of somebody's dresser. There's still enough empty space on the top for her to recognize it as a dresser, so signs point to it belonging to Carlos. "I hate love. And valentine's day. And dating."

"You said you hated froot loops yesterday." Carlos points out. "Because I took the last of them. So like, I'm gonna take this with a spoonful of salt here. Did your date not go well?" 

Mal rips the pins out of her hair with so much force that one of them flies into the mirror. It doesn’t shatter, which is a fucking shame. She would have liked to make an awful mess. "I hate love, and I'm going to die alone surrounded by the bones of my enemies. No, it did not "go well,”” She stops ripping out pins long enough to add air quotes, which are essential to the dramatic effect of it all. "He asked if I love him back, and I told him, again, that I don't know how to love people, and he made this horrible face and was so kind about the whole thing, and just-- ugh!" 

Carlos is hovering. "I’m…sorry?" 

"I'm sorry we ever came here." Mal spits, yanking her other shoe off and throwing it somewhere in the direction of Jay's shoe pile. "I don't-- I can't be a princess. I hate that I just-- I don't know how to do anything, and I hate when people look at me like I'm supposed to know what I'm doing, and there were all these cameras, and--augh!" 

"Jay's in the shower," Carlos offers. "If you want to bother him about it." 

"I want to hit something," Mal admits. It's not a perfect solution, but she's already feeling a little bit less like her skin is on too tight now that she's got her hair loose and wild around her shoulders and her earrings and stupid, uncomfortable, impractical shoes off. "I think-- d'you want to spar with us?" 

"Can't. Homework." Carlos gestures to the textbooks he's got spread out on the neater one of the boys’ beds. "I've got a test tomorrow and if I fail I'll have to retake the class." 

Mal leans over so she can see the textbooks. It looks like history, maybe. Something with a lot of dense text and no visible math problems. "I can't imagine you failing any test, furball." she says, meaning it. How well they thrived on the isle of the lost isn't a perfect gauge for how well they're doing in Auradon, but school is school no matter where they are, and Mal can't remember her little nerd ever failing a test.

 Carlos goes even tenser at her attempt at reassurance. "First time for everything." 

"Still, you failing?" Mal scoffs. "We're in Auradon, not Wonderland. Not everything is upside down and inside out and topsy-turvy. Or whatever Allie’s sayings are.. You'll be fine." 

"I'll be better if I study. Sorry. No sparring for me tonight." 

Ugh. Mal rips another pin out of her hair and throws it towards the mirror with the others. "Suit yourself. I'm going to go bother Jay into letting me beat the shit out of him."

Carlos flashes her a little half smile. "Have fun."

“Oh, I will,” Mal assures him, and spins around to go invade the sanctity of the boy’s showers. 

The short, barefoot walk down the hallway to the boy's bathrooms gives Mal critical time to think about her plan of attack. She's wicked and awful, naturally, but she's also not especially interested in getting shouted at by a teacher for being out of bed and in the boy's showers tonight. She's had enough of being shouted at by adults who think they know better than her. She's not some Auradon girl to be controlled, so she's simply not going to get caught. 

Which means she's going back to the boys room. 

At least she'll remember to grab some different shoes this time. 

"Fuck off, Mal," Carlos calls through the door when she knocks a second time. "You can't steal my shoes." 

"I can steal whatever I want, actually," Mal corrects him, opening the door and barging in, as is her right as their fearless leader. She is Mal of the Isle, and she's not a prize to be won or a princess to be wooed. She's going to steal whatever shoes she likes. "Jay's shoes don't fit me right." 

Carlos throws a pen at her. "Neither do mine, you're just delusional about the size of your own feet. At least take my sneakers if you're going sparring. I hate when we have to dig out the poison kit after hours." 

Mal sticks her tongue out at him. Her shoes are all perfect, and she's also perfectly aware of the size of her feet, which are currently half a shoe size smaller than the one Carlos wears.  As such, their shared approximate size gives her the right to steal his shoes whenever the princess ones she's been dressed in are too much for her to manage, physically or mentally. . "I'm taking the ones with spikes." 

"Are not." 

"Are so," Mal says, diving under the bed to where he keeps all four pairs of his shoes lined up. "I'm going to add more spikes while you're not looking. Poison-tipped ones. Razor-sharp." 

"Use porcupine quills, they're barbed." Carlos says helpfully, making absolutely no motion to get up and defend his shoes.

Mal shoves aside the fallen textbook, grabs the hoodie shoved under the bed for later, and ah. There’s her prize.  Boots (with spikes), dress shoes, cleats (more spikes), and there at the end, sneakers. 

"Fishhooks," Mal suggests. "The giant ones that rip holes when they come out. And I'll dip them in bleach powder so it burns the whole time they're inside." 

Carlos shudders. "Gross." 

"You're gross," Mal rips her dress over her head, and does not wince at the popping noise the shoulder seam makes. Evie can fix it again later, or they can burn it. Whichever. "I'm taking your clothes too."

"Wash the bloodstains out before you put them back." 

Shirt. Pants. Hoodie. Sneakers. 

Ill-gotten disguise on, Mal flashes him a thumbs up on her way back out the door. 

“Hey,” Mal calls out, keeping her voice intentionally low. She’s got the hood of Carlos’s stolen hoodie pulled up over her hair, and she’s relying on the sight of a familiar size-shape-color-scheme to deter anyone from looking too closely at her. Not that there’s many students around the boy’s bathroom at 9pm on Valentine’s night, but still. She’s not exactly looking to get caught. “Jaybird?” 

There’s no noise in the bathroom except for the irregular drip of a shower head that hasn’t been turned off quite hard enough. All the money in the world, and Auradon Prep still doesn’t have showers that actually work how they’re supposed to. 

It’s ridiculous. If Mal were in charge of the school budget she’d be putting all the money into showers. A hot shower and a  fireplace in every dorm, so that none of the students have to feel cold if they don’t want. That’s the budget priorities Mal would have. Warmth, and then food. The dining hall could stand to leave leftovers out longer after meals. 

…princesses don’t think about food. She’s been around Evie long enough to know that one. Princesses are tiny and perfect without even trying. Princesses eat salad and fruit and don’t order fries with anything. Princesses are the sort of people the king is supposed to be dating, and Mal is never, ever going to become that sort of person. 

“Mal?” 

Mal does not jump. She just— startles. Just a little. “Hey.”

There’s a smile playing at the corner of Jay’s mouth. “Hey yourself. I thought you’d be out with Ben still.” 

“You know price charming,” Mal waves a hand. “Had to have me home by midnight or else he was afraid I’d turn into a pumpkin.” 

“It’s nine thirty.” 

“Localized curse. The younger you are, the earlier it thinks you should be home. We picked nine, just to be safe.” 

“You can just say you had a bad date, killer,” Jay says. “I’ll be your alibi. You need a shovel?” 

Mal snorts. “It didn’t go that badly, give me some credit. I just freaked out when he started talking about love. While we were on a date to talk about love.” 

Fuck. 

A lot more of the evening makes sense when she frames it that way. None of the bullshit they’ve found online talks about dating the king of the entire country, but there’s a lot of website with mind-numbing names like psychology today and buzzbees news that make it very clear how important Auradon brats think nonverbal communication is. 

She went on a date. On Valentine’s Day. 

With Ben. 

“…Killer?” 

Focus. 

“Fuck off.” Mal snaps reflexively. “I’m fine. Just. Plotting.” 

Jay dodges around her for a pile of fabric, which reveals itself to be his Auradon-blue team hoodie. “You wanna plot somewhere a little better?” 

“What I want is to go home, but I’m not going to get that,” Mal says thoughtfully. “I was going to ask you to spar with me, but if you’ve got any better ideas I’m open to hearing them.” 

“Breaking and entering.” Jay says immediately. “We should blow this place. There’s that all-ages club in town—”

“If I have to touch another human being I’m going to scream.” 

Jay touches her arm deliberately, a sustained pressure that doesn’t even read as touch, just comfort. Mal drinks it in like he’s pouring the comfort directly onto all the jagged, awful pieces of her soul. “I’m not a human being?” 

“Shut up. You’re mine, it’s different.” 

“You’re mine, then.” 

There’s a piece of her heart that fits perfectly again the broken edges of his. Mal couldn’t let go of Jay if she tried, not for anything in the world. Not for her mother breathing fire at them, not for Fairy Godmother insisting that it’ll be good for them to make other friends, and not for a stupid holiday that says she’s only supposed to be tied to one person, and not even the one holding on to her right now. 

“Sure.” Mal agrees, because she can’t put words to the enormity of feelings she’s experiencing. Villains don’t have feelings, but she’s reformed now, and it’s harder to describe the feelings with words than it is to have them. “We can sneak out, see what trouble we can find.” 

“You’re all the trouble I need, killer.” Jay says, too honest. “I’ll take you out of here whenever you need. Wherever you want.” 

“Sap.” 

“Princess.” 

“Do I look like a princess to you?” Mal leans back to gesture at herself. The sweatshirt she stole isn’t Auradon-blue like Jay’s. It’s an old one, ratty in the way that all their old isle stuff is, and nearly transparent at the elbows. The seams are held together with Evie’s neat machine stitching, but the thread is three different shades of red and grey all mashed together, and there’s a hole in the edge of the hood that’s exposing the soft inside of it. Her sneakers are a size too big, and laced tight to compensate. Her hair is still a mess from the violent undoing that she’d subjected it to, and she can’t be bothered to try and tame it, not when her chest is bursting with feelings that don’t have any place to go except for out of her body, in tears or screams or whatever violence she’s able to inflict that will drive the awful right feeling out. 

“The prettiest princess in all the land,” Jay says, and jumps back before the words are even out of his mouth, out of the range of Mal’s swipe. “C’mon, killer. You’re the fiercest baby dragon I know. Come out with me. We can find trouble somewhere better than this.” 

"You're trouble already," Mal grumbles, but there's no bite to the words. She wants, wholly and completely, to be somewhere else. "The gates are locked for the night, you know." 

"No problem. Besides, you can just say you're on an important errand for the king and get through all the school security." 

"I could," Mal agrees. It's not like she's afraid of a little misplaced power when she can wield it. "But it's more fun to sneak out." 

Jay's grin is a bright flash in the darkness. "Hey, I've got a stupid idea." 

Mal grunts. "Shoot." 

"I could toss you over the fence." 

"The twenty foot fence." 

Jay shrugs. "It's more like twelve feet. At least according to the build specs." 

"Which you came across..." 

"Totally legally. They're in the library, if you know where to look for 'em." 

"You're impossible," Mal sighs. "Okay, once you toss me how are we getting you over?" 

"I'll jump." 

Over the twelve foot fence. "Sure, and when you break your leg falling back down?" 

"You'll magic me back together again. Humpty-dumpty this shit." 

"I don't think you actually know that rhyme."

"I know your rhymes," Jay shoots back. "You've got magic for levitation in the spellbook, yeah?" 

"I don't have the spellbook with me, wise guy." Mal points out. "I'm not even wearing my own shoes right now, what makes you think I memorized magic that'll get us over the fence?" 

Jay's eyes are too bright. She's going to have to use a spell just to hide him, and the magic will burn her out, and they'll get stuck on the wrong side of the fence, and-- that's what she would think, if she were Jane, or someone will less awesome magic powers. She's Mal of the Isle, and she's got this shit under control. 

"Dragon magic," Jay says cheerfully, like it's not late and they're not doing something totally against all of the rules they're supposed to be learning by sneaking out to the city. "I trust you, killer." 

"I could kill you," Mal grumbles, but she raises her hands and lets the magic gather there, blue-green sparks catching on her fingertips as she pulls the spell out from her mind. "Make this boy as light as air, hop the fence without a care." 

The magic falls over Jay in a net of shimmering sparks. They absorb in after a second, but the look suits him. Mal spares a thought for her sketchbook, which is tucked away in her locker with the rest of the books she hasn't had the time to touch in weeks, and the drawing her fingers are itching to make. "You can hop it now. You'll be light enough to jump over the fence with a regular leap." 

"Sweet!" Jay turns and drops to a knee. "Hop on." 

"Piggyback? Seriously?" 

"No better way to hop it together. Unless you'd rather I throw you over."

It's dangerous, and not just physically. Mal's been doing a pretty fucking good job at squashing down the feelings she's not supposed to have for her best friends, but this... 

She's emotionally illiterate, but Jay's offer to take her out tonight is like a picture book. Or one of those furniture instructions that doesn't even have language, just pictures to follow. 

He cares about you, Mal's traitorous brain whispers. More than your boyfriend does. 

Ugh. 

"Don't do anything stupid," Mal says, even as she's the one climbing on. "The spell should be good for a few leaps, but--" 

"Can't hear you, too busy blowing this place!" Jay grunts, pushing them both upright. "Let's fuckin' go--" 

"Don't--" 

"Hup!" 

Well. At least they're on the other side of the fence now, even if they crashed directly into the school holly bush on the landing. 

"Oww," Jay groans. "Might need a little more practice on that spell. I think there's something wrong with your magic assist on the landing." 

Mal yanks a leaf out of her arm. "There is no magic assist, dumbass. I tried to tell you, but somebody decided to go full steam ahead without listening to my warning. We're over now, and that's what matters." 

Jay mumbles something unintelligible. She can only assume it's rude, given the circumstances. Ugh, holly leaves are not the hot new accessory of the season, not even when they're doing a levitation act and sticking with a single thorn into her nose.

 "Speak up or shut up, jaybird." 

"I said--" It's impossible to tell in the darkness, but it looks like he might be blushing. The school grounds are supposed to have automatic lights, but a little wire cutting took care of that for them, and they're sneaking out under cover of darkness tonight. Mal's good at knowing her crew, but she can't be sure. "I, uh, you're important. To me." 

"Don't get mushy on me." 

"I'd never. Just. We're sneaking out together, and I wanted you to know, I'd never commit crimes and misdemeanors with anyone else." 

"Liar." 

Jay flashes her a smile, but he's doing the thing where he's got a hand tangled up in his hair, and it makes him look heart-wrenchingly sincere. "Yeah, but not to you." 

Oh, gods. "Don't go having feelings on me," Mal says, swallowing down the wobble that wants to creep into her voice. "I can't handle it. Not tonight, please." 

Just like that, Jay's posture melts into something different. Not quite his usual confidence, but something closer to normal. "Sure. No feelings. I can do that." 

"I don't--" Mal scrubs a hand over her eyes. "I didn't mean that you can't have feelings, just. I can't be the one to handle them tonight. I'll do whatever you want tomorrow, just-- can we just go be somewhere else tonight? I can't handle all this lovey stuff." 

Jay's shoulders melt even further. Mal can't look him in the eye, she can't, she won't-- 

He's smiling. His hand is so, so warm in hers. "Killer." 

"I'm sorry." 

He shrugs. "Whatever. You're allowed to have a bad night. I'll take you out, we can forget this ever happened tomorrow. Easy." 

"You should have someone better," Mal cries, and the horrible realization that she's crying sets in. "I don't want feelings for you!" 

"shit," Jay whispers, so quietly that Mal is sure she wasn't supposed to hear it at all. "Dragon, we don't have to do feelings like the Auradon brats. You can just be mine, and I can be yours, and we don't have to do any of the mushy shit that's freaking you out. We can just run away." 

"Together." 

"Yeah. Unless you spelled somebody else over the fence while I was distracted." 

Mal wipes the sleeve of her stolen hoodie across her nose. "Ugh, no. I don't use magic for just anybody." 

"See, there you go. I'm honored to be worthy of your magic, your royal evil-ness." 

“Fuck off,” Mal groans, and then before she can lose her nerve she steps close enough to cup his face in her hands. There’s no magic this time, but Jay’s skin is hot and soft under her palms, and it feels like there should be magic between them. “I’m the worst girlfriend in the world, so I won’t ever put you through that. I’m selfish, and I’m flaky, and I can’t say that I love you, and I can’t ever promise that I’ll be able to say it.” 

Jay’s face is a thundercloud. “Did Ben say you needed to say it back?” 

“No, but— Ben’s not here right now. That’s the point. He’s not the person I run to when everything in the world is too much for me to handle. Ben’s sweet and all, but he’s not who I want to be with when I’m upset. Can you imagine what he’d say if I suggested running away from the grounds?” 

“What ho good chap, let me summon a car to escort you from the venerable grounds of our fine institution,” Jay picks up her thread, mocking. “And yeah, I guess when you put it that way, it’s pretty silly to think about Ben taking care of you.” 

Mal sucks in a breath. “Exactly. He’s sweet, but I don’t know how to deal with sweet, and it feels like the pressure of it is killing me. You know how to push back when I’m being a monster, and I don’t know how to fit that into one of the relationship boxes I’m supposed to use here.” 

Jay tips his head into her hands. “We could make our own box.” 

“We could.” 

“I wouldn’t ask you to be my girlfriend.” 

Mal leans in. “I know,” she tells the space between Jay’s parted lips. “I know.”