#got a piece of it in my thumb even :( tiny wound but oof

[makerscockandballs]

guy who is widely known for always having broken technology: man I hope I don't break this piece of technology

[wannajointhecrabcult]

Reckless Rescuer

I literally just came up with this idea at midnight last night when I was just starting to go into fever dream mode so... This will be interesting. You asked to be tagged so here you go @justconfusedperiod!

Imagine that Marinette never became Ladybug.

Master Fu chose actual adults to go save Paris while Sabine and Tom gave Marinette combat training.

Despite not being a hero Marinette was still caught up in a lot of akuma attacks (Because Hawkmoth is a bitter ass) so she learned how to use everything and anything to her advantage.

Even though she's crafty Marinette still dies in akuma attacks and gets revived by the Miraculous Cure at the end of the day.

As sad as it is, she becomes used to dying.

That doesn't mean that she TRIES to get hurt during attacks, it just means that she expects her life to end one day because of an akuma or something and for her to not come back, so dying isn't a fear for her anymore.

She also builds a tolerance for pain during attacks where she doesn't die, but still gets very injured.

It's amazing how trauma can practically destroy someone's life while others are just so desensitized that it doesn't affect them anymore.

One day the Dupain-Chengs move to Gotham to both expand their business, and to get away from a certain magic fueled fashion disaster.

I mean, seriously.

You're supposed to be a designer but here you are walking around looking like a cardboard candy cane beige toothpick of a man.

Don't get me started on what the heck happened with Hawkmoth's costume.

What is that?

Are you wearing a silver condom on your head or what??

Anyways, Marinette attends Damian's school and they bond over being the only one's not overly worried about danger in certain situations.

At one point Damian thought that she might have been a hero or something but threw that thought away when he witnessed her somehow fall UP a staircase. (I've actually done this before. Surprisingly it's pretty fun.)

All was fine and dandy until one afternoon when they were walking to Neti's place after school to work on a project.

They were walking through a less populated part of the city and were passing a shoe store when two thugs held them at a gunpoint demanding for their cash.

The youngest Wayne was fully prepared to attack the men when Marinette started scolding them for being rude?

Marinette: Hey! You can't just do that! Do you know how rude it is to interrupt someone's conversation?! Apologize right and leave us alone right now OR ELSE.

The two men just looked at her for a moment before doubling over and bursting out in laughter.

After all, what can this tiny school girl do to hurt them?

The first guy calmed down and was about to threaten them again when all of a sudden a pink flat was thrown at his face.

Because of he was unprepared and because of the force behind the flying shoe, he was knocked over and fell to the floor with a thud.

The second guys turned to look at the girl who just threw her shoe at his partner when he was suddenly wacked in the face as well.

So there they were.

Two teenagers, one with no shoes on, in front of a show store with two thugs at their feet.

Truly a sight to behold.

Marinette turns to Damian and asks him for his shoes.

When he doesn't respond (he's in shock) Marinette just shrugs, turns around, and SMASHES HER ARM THROUGH THE GLASS WINDOW OF THE SHOE STORE TO GRAB A CROC AND CHUCK IT AT THE FIRST GUY AGAIN BECAUSE HE WAS GETTING UP.

She then turns to the second dude who was on his knees and says in a dark tone, "You better go and leave us alone before I get my hands on a pair of iceskates. Got it?"

He nods his head and scrambles to run away from the short girl with pigtails that just single handedly smashed her arm through glass and was somehow not wincing in pain from her many bleeding cuts and she threw shoes at them.

His partner frantically got to his feet and followed him.

After making sure that the two would-be-muggers are far away Mari turns to Damian and waves her still bleeding hand in front of his face.

"Heelllooooo? Anybody home?"

She then shakes his shoulders a bit.

Damian, now no longer in shock, starts freaking out about her injuries.

"oh...my...gosh....oh my gosh... oH MY GOSH YOU'RE BLEEDING EVERYWHERE!! OHMYGOSH THAT WAS SO RECKLESS OF YOU, YOU COULD HAVE DIED AND OH NO YOU JUST STRAIGHT UP BROKE A GLASS WINDOW WITH YOUR BARE HANDS!! YOU FUCKING IDIOT YOU'RE HURT! WE NEED TO GETYOUFIRSTAIDOHMYGOSH!!!"

She tries to get him to calm down but that honestly makes him freak out even more.

"HOW ARE YOU NOT REACTING TO THE PAIN OF CUTTING YOUR ARM WITH MULTIPLE PIECES OF GLASS?!? YOU FREAKING THREW SHOES AT THEM! SHOES! WHAT IF YOU FREAKING DIED FROM THAT?!?"

"Well that would make it the 2615th time."

"...."

"....."

"Excuse me but wHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT WOULD'VE BEEN THE 2615TH TIME YOU DIED?!??!??"

Marinette was trying to get him to breathe since he was almost on the verge of a panic attack when the owner of the shoe store came out with a first aid kit.

The elderly woman proceeded to patch up Marinette's arm while thanking her for scaring away the muggers.

"Those two just keep scaring the customers away so I cannot thank you dearie enough!"

"Oh, it was no problem ma'am. They really needed to learn some manners anyways!"

"They really are so rude aren't they. And there we go! Your arm is all bandaged up. I would be careful with it if I were you."

She old lady then turns to Damian who has calmed down a bit now that Marinette's arm is bandaged.

"You've got quite a wild girlfriend here. Be sure to watch out for her safety or else you're gonna lose her."

That causes the two teens faces to burn red.

"Oh no you've got it wrong. She's not my girlfriend although I do agree that I should start looking out far her health more." He turns to Marinette as he says the last bit.

She just replies with a sheepish smile and a shrug.

"She's definitely going to give me gray hairs early."

The store owner gave Marinette and Damian a knowing look before sending the two on their way.

On the walk to Marinette's house Damian kept scolding her for her brash decisions and worrying over her arm at the same time.

At one point Damian asked her if she could actually feel the pain from her cuts or not and she just replied with "I got injured a lot when I lived in Paris so I have a high pain tolerance. This isn't even the worst wound I've ever gotten."

Needless to say, that did not reassure Damian at all.

When they did reach their destination they ended up deciding to finish the project on another day to let Marinette's arm heal a bit.

He calls Alfred to pick him up and when faced with the butler's questioning stare he just replies with "Too much excitement for today."

Before the limo drove off Marinette ran outside to the car and handed Damian a bag full of pastries.

"Consider this an apology for making you freak out so much."

He nodded and took the bag but still told her "You're an idiot you know right?"

"Haha. Or so I've been told." She shrugs. "See you tomorrow in class if you're not too traumatized!"

"Tt. We live in Gotham. It's gonna take more than that to truly scar me. Although I have to say, that's the closest someone's gotten in a long time. Don't do it again."

"No promises!" Marinette yells as the limo drives off.

That night Damian got a nightmare filled with shoes.

Marinette is now known and feared throughout the more amateur criminal community.

True to her word, Marinette tried to reduce the amount of risky choices that she took.

I mean, there was that incident with the llamas, trumpets, and skateboards but we don't talk about that.

Her safety streak ended when Damian was kidnapped.

And by the Joker no less.

Ya, no.

She's not just gonna stand by while her friend litteraly gets kidnapped by a clown man thing when she could do something about it.

The Joker called the Waynes through a video chat and threatens the dump Damian into a pool filled with unidentified and possibly contaminated water until they give him half a million dollars.

And because it's a two way video chat and all of the Waynes (except Damian) are there they can't 'call the batfam' to save him.

Because they were all so busy panicking and Joker was busy laughing, no one but Damian noticed a dark silhouette sneaking around in the shadows.

The moment he saw them he immediately knew who it was.

'Oh no. ThaT'S MY IDIOT!!'

Marinette noticed Damian's panicked stare on her and just, gave him a thumbs up? Before going back into the darkness.

'Oh no oh no ohnoohnononono what's she doing?!' He thought to himself as he heard quiet shuffling in the shadows.

Going back to the screen, Bruce was about to send the money when all of a sudden a bright light was turned on from behind the Joker to the left.

And they weren't expecting what they saw.

There under the light was someone in a Barney the Dinosaur costume sitting in a rainbow bumper car with a radio and a bag filled with something strapped in the passenger side.

TrULy RaDiAnT.

The purple dino turned on the radio, (which was playing the Barney theme song) made eye contact with the clown, and promptly said "Beep beep bitch." in a robotic voice (there was a voice changer in the costume) before driving full speed at him.

At first the Joker tried to run away from the vehicle but for some reason the bumper car was extremely fast and RAN HIM OVER before turning around,

AND FUCKING DOING IT AGAIN!!

Double oof.

They did this around 12 times before the Joker managed to push up from under the bumper car at the perfect time.

Marinette did a backflip (dramatics are guaranteed) as she jumped out of the rainbow ride while simultaneously throwing the radio at the Joker at full force.

The Joker, not expecting that, was thrown against the base of a wall.

He got up just in time to see his attacker pull out a shoe from the bag and chuck it at his nuts.

*cue everyone either laughing at his pain or wincing in sympathy*

The Barney pulls out a sandal from the bag and throws it at his face and uses a black stiletto to pin the clown's arm tO THE FRIGGING WALL when he reaches to touch where the flip flop hit him.

(Is there a difference between sandals and flip flops?)

She then uses another stiletto (a red one this time) to pin his other arm and pulls out YET ANOTHER SHOE (a rainboot) to hit his face.

...again....

This time he gets knocked out though so there's that.

...

....

.....

The power of FOOTWEAR!!

The purple and green dinosaur goes to untie Damian while his family just watch through the screen with their jaws on the floor, still processing what the actual heck just happened.

They get snapped out of their shock when the youngest Wayne launches himself into the Barney's arms and starts rambling about how worried he was and did the store owner give you all those shoes and why the heck did you follow me here.

They don't know what they were expecting the person under the Barney costume to look like but they definitely weren't expecting a young girl with pigtails wearing stilts to come out.

Apparently she needed them to fit into the suit.

Damian: How did you even know I was in trouble?

Marinette: I sorta have a six sense for this kind of stuff. It's disappointing that I didn't get to use all of my amo though :(

Damian: Wait. You brought MORE shoes?

Marinette: Yep! And a couple other things as well. Like this trumpet case, and this bowling ball, and this duck themed alarm clock (I have one lol), and oh! Wait a moment would ya?

*walks over to the pool and dumps around 30 bath bombs in*

Marinette: There! Now this place will smell super nice!

Damian: Did you just dump a ton of bath bombs into a pool of unidentified liquid?

Marinette: Yep!

Damian: Let me rephrase that. Did you just dump a ton of bath bombs into a pool of possibly chemically contaminated water which could possibly have a bad reaction to the bath bombs which could possibly explode or just generally be the death of us?

Marinette: ........

Damian: ........

Marinette: ......

Damian: ........

Marinette: ....well it wouldn't be the FIRST time I-

Damian close to tears: yEs I KnOw PLeaSe StOp ReMinDiNg mE.

Ya so this was just a random idea I had and that I will probably not be adding to but y'all reading this are more than welcome to! If you do continue or make your own little spins on this please tag me! I would love to read them :D

[igniting-quill]

korest (south korea x estonia)

Finding Solid Ground

Magical AU, early 1900s

Ship: Korest (South Korea x Estonia)

AN: 

If I was a better writer (and more efficient one) I swear I could have completed this. It started as a 1K, grew to 4K, and is still incomplete! Such a frustrating thing writing is. 

I am a college student taking difficult courses this semester, and to be honest a little burnt out from working on this… so unfortunately this WIP has been put on indefinite hiatus (don’t fret! I have ‘finished’ it with an ending, albeit a kind of bittersweet one. However, most of this piece has not been written and/or edited yet). For now, the story has multiple flaws: weak research, a lack of continuity, and a lack of meaningful scenes: it’s a first draft. However, I still think there’s lots of good parts in it too, plus I feel like I should respond to an ask that is like 5 months old by this point. I have peppered in Author’s Notes to supplement some of those weaknesses. The further into the piece, the more frequent AN’s will pop up. All AN’s will be inside “<” and “>” like <this>. It’s a tad cringey and reminiscent of early 2000s fic, but it’ll have to do. Anon and anyone else reading this, feel free to take what I wrote and continue it. Parts of the good in this that can get salvaged? I think it’s a rather interesting AU, and would be honored if people expanded on it. Just please make sure to credit me. 

I didn’t have great world building in my writing, so this is a brief introduction. The setting? Middle of nowhere Korea, early 1900s. I have blended elements of history and fantasy. The “magic” here can either be inherent (like magical powers people are born with) or learned (Like in Harry Potter where the people have to learn spells to actually do anything as a wizard/witch). Additionally, sort of like a hunger bar in Minecraft, “magic” can run out when the magic user is tired/famished/overusing spells. There are only a few people in this AU that have magical power. Think of it as I made the Hetalia cast have magic in place of their immortality.

TL;DR: Anon, I spent a whole lot of time on this to no avail. I think I ship Korest now though.

---

The first thing Eduard saw was a night sky. Moonlight streamed through soft clouds and stars peaked behind gaps. Beautiful.

But then, a cold wind whooshed past his ears and bit into his skin. He glanced down. Then, his eyes widened in shock. The trees looked like tiny, snow-covered bushes from up here. 

Teleport!

Nothing happened. Shoot. Why did his powers have to fail him now?

He flailed, his arms grasping at thin air as he plunged toward the earth and braced for impact.

“AGH!”

His right shoulder lit up in pain as it crashed into a branch. Crack. He hung there for a second, the branch swaying dangerously before it fell away from the trunk, dropping him lower. 

“Oof! Gah! Eouh! Tss!”

He was out of breath by the time he landed on the frost-sprinkled forest floor. He was dazed, soaking in what just happened. The leaves and snow softened the blow of the fall, but his shoulder still stung. It didn’t help that a bit of his blood was trickling out in the snow. His head throbbed dully. He propped himself up with his arms and his glasses fell off his face. 

Now the world was a blur, including the glasses themselves. He narrowed his eyes and brought the glasses up closer to his face. They were broken along the bridge, split into two halves. He brought the right lens closer. The glass had a crooked vertical gash running through it, ending with a broken rim. He picked them off the snowy ground and placed the pieces into his pocket. Slowly, gingerly, he stood up. He hobbled over to a tree and leaned against it. 

“Hello?” a voice asked in the distance. Eduard blinked, trying to keep his eyes open. He shifted his head to look toward the sound, but all he saw was a blurry forest and a faint glow far away. 

The last thing he remembered was the world turning to black.

---

Eduard drowsily opened his eyes to see a small room. He was in a bed with a thick comforter. It was dark, the windows showed a navy blue night outside. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a stranger walking over with a lit light source, eerily warm for being so small. That’s all Eduard could tell without his glasses. He touched his pocket, relief pouring in when he felt his eyewear. But he still felt tense. One thing was certain: this was an unfamiliar place, he had to get out of here. He tried to muster the energy to teleport, but his body stayed firmly in bed. His magic still wasn’t working it seemed.

“You’re awake.” The man noted, walking over to him.

“Who are you? Where am I?”

“I’m Yong Soo.” The other man said. Eduard narrowed his eyes, trying to make out Yong Soo’s facial features. But it was still too blurry. “I found you passed out on the forest floor and thought to bring you home. But first, no weapons please. Empty your pockets.”

Yong Soo respected him enough not to ruffle through his things. Not that Eduard had anything to defend himself with anyways. Reluctantly, he decided to take out his broken glasses. The man took them and examined the pieces.

“You better not take my glasses for long.” The threat sounded empty, even to Eduard himself, but it felt better than nothing. Being in an unfamiliar place with his blurry vision was putting him on edge.

“Don’t worry about them,” Yong Soo flippantly responded. “Now, my turn: how did you end up in this forest in the middle of nowhere?”

That question stilled him. Eduard wondered how to logically explain falling out of the sky without the use of magic.

“I… don’t know. I didn’t mean to land here. And you still haven’t told me where I am.” 

Yong Soo gently placed his lantern on a nearby table. “We are kind of a new country. I do not know if you know about us, Mr. Sorcerer.”

“Sorcerer?”

“Magic user.” Yong Soo recited an incomprehensible (at least to Eduard) verse and waved his hand. The lantern slowly got brighter.

Eduard sucked in a gasp: that move was powerful. All he knew was transportation spells.

“I’m pretty sure it’s my fault you ended up here.” Yong Soo gestured with his hands, trying to describe his thoughts. “A sprinkle of magic and a bit of boredom, and… poof you’re here now. The spell I used attracts other ‘magic users’ like you and me. I was trying to get my brother, but looks like I can’t get to him for some reason” He sighed, as if he had something more to say but didn’t have the words. “Anyways, I am sorry for barging into your life. Hope that this somewhat makes up for your fall.”

Yong Soo grabbed ahold of Eduard’s hand. Lightly, he nudged Eduard’s fingers so that the palm of his hand would face up. With a flick of the wrist, he produced fully fixed glasses and laid them between Eduard’s thumb and pointer finger. 

“Woah...” Eduard whispered in disbelief, examining Yong Soo’s work. There were spells of all kinds, but he never saw one that ever smoothly put objects back together like this. He put his glasses on and looked at Yong Soo. His blurry vision became sharp. 

The clothes Yong Soo was wearing were so different from the stuff back home. Eduard didn’t have the vocabulary to describe them. He wore something akin to a dress, and the waistline was high, right under the chest. The top of the outfit had long sleeves that were wide, hanging down instead of staying tight around the wrist. He also held a thick book in one hand, part of it hidden under the sleeves.

The light from his lantern lit him up so that his pale beige skin contrasted with the darkness of the room. Dark brown eyes and ink black hair, a flyaway curl sticking out the side. An Eastern Asian man. There was a happy smirk on his face, one that triumphantly proclaimed that he succeeded in fixing the glasses.

“Just a simple little time reversal spell” He tapped on the edge of the frames for emphasis, and Eduard pushed his glasses back up with a huff. “Keep those safe, they’re expensive.”

“Now could you please tell me where on Earth I am? I know I’m not at home.”

“Korea. A bit ago we were Joseon. Now, what’s your name traveler?”

“Eduard.” he paused, trying to grasp everything that was happening. First things first: “How long has it been since I got knocked out?” 

“A few days.”

“Shoot.” Eduard sat up and got out from the covers, ignoring the sting from his right shoulder. “I’ve got to go. Back. You know. Before I got transported to this place.” He tried to muster up the energy to teleport out, but, ever frustratingly, his body still didn’t budge.

“Well. How do you even begin doing that?”

“If I could just…” Eduard concentrated, envisioning his home, and pulling himself mentally closer. But nothing happened. Eduard inwardly groaned.

“Okay there?”

“You don’t understand.” Eduard grumbled, trying to avoid worsening his wounds as he shuffled back under the covers. “Before I teleported, I was writing up this article. I’m part of a team attempting to get an Estonian newspaper off the ground. And well, it’s important to me for my article through… that sounds odd but let me put it this way. Though it may sound simple, it could propel us to become our sovereign nation! Independence, that’s something that has been a rarity. And with all the Russification going on, it’s been rough going.”

<Above probably needs development, I don’t know much about this topic and did minimal research> 

Eduard paused. “Wait a second, how the hell are you speaking Estonian?”

“When I saw that you were European,” Yong Soo showcased the thick book he was holding, “I used up my resources. I searched up a spell that would break a language barrier. Unfortunately, due to my own lack of language skills, I wasn’t able to understand that deciphers written words unfortunately. Then it would be easier to read this damn thing”

Eduard looked toward Yong Soo’s spell book. He recognized the Latin letters, but not the language of the script. “Now where’d you get this from?”

“I got it from a... ” He hesitated, “An acquaintance. From out East, Japan. And he got it from a British guy. My acquaintance is not on good terms with magic, even if he was once enthralled by it, and so I bought it from him.” 

Eduard heard rumors of a strong British sorcery. The spell should be pretty good.

Yong Soo kept going. “It was a good choice too. I have translated some spells in here and they are the only things keeping me from going bonkers. I isolated myself in the middle-of-no-where after all. Turns out it’s good to have a companion, even if that companion is a book.”

Eduard looked at the spell book, intrigued. “Since I can’t go back home anyways, should I test to see how well your spell holds up?

“Aren’t you already doing so? With, um, Estonian, right?”

“Well, if I *speak Russian you’ll understand me?*”

Yong Soo nodded. “Your accent changed a bit though.” 

“And, *if I stretch it… do you understand some broken German?*”

“I do.”

“How about-”

“Hold on. How do you know so many languages?”

Eduard frowned a bit, pausing to understand what Yong Soo was asking. “I’m a polyglot.”

“Yeah, I just so happen to be a polyglot too. But I learned about other languages out of necessity. I used to have a life of splendor, politics, and drama.” He pointed out the window. “I took a break from that by moving to a place with more trees instead of people. Right here. Now, what… ‘normal’ man would be that talented? There has got to be a driving factor.” 

Would it hurt to tell this Korean man about his life? If Eduard teleported out of here as soon as he could, it couldn’t do damage. “I told you earlier, I work for a newspaper. Using language, even other languages too, are my thing. At the same time, polyglots aren’t rare back home. I guess that’s what I get for being born into a place that got bulldozed over by neighboring powers continuously. The place gets pretty bi and multilingual. Other languages get impressed onto us.”

“By… ‘Us?’ You mean, ‘Estonians?’ Of a country that doesn’t exist?” 

“Yes.” Eduard said it with finality.

The Korean man seemed to be mulling over the words, unease spreading over his expression. “I wonder...” Yong Soo stopped abruptly. He walked over to a makeshift kitchen area. “I wonder if you like pickled, spicy food.” He beckoned Eduard to come over too.

“Pickled, yes. Spicy, no. Plus, I told you I have to go back home somehow, even if it is too late.”

Yong Soo looked at Eduard with a knowing glint in his eye. “If you could teleport back now, you would have already.”

“You’re not wrong.” Eduard gestured towards Yong Soo’s hands. “But, you also have a spellbook in your hands. If you really wanted to help, you would have given me a magic boost. I would have been on the way.”

Yong Soo frowned. “I don’t even think there’s a spell for a magic boost. I could be wrong though. I got this book very recently and only a few spells have been translated.”

“That means?”

“Considering the fact that you being here is the combination of both my magic power and yours, it seems like the way back is if I incorporate my magic with yours once more. Unless you can teleport for long distances, you’ll have to stay here with me.”

Eduard felt his heart plunge. They were quiet after that statement. 

<AN: Eduard has a hard time dealing with this new reality that he has to stay in an unfamiliar place. I didn’t give enough breathing room to write his experience with that.>

Yong Soo pointed toward a dish on the table. “I’ve got some cabbage-based kimchi. I have been living on this stuff for months here in the middle of nowhere.”

Eduard walked over to the table, looking over the unfamiliar food. “What are... these?” He tapped on a small porcelain bowl filled with cooked white grains. Then he gestured to two evenly shaped straight sticks, each about the size of a rectangular-ish, thinner, flatter pen.

“A bowl of rice and chopsticks. Of course.” 

Eduard searched around. “You don’t have forks?”

Yong Soo looked up at Eduard and a tangible pause lingered in the air. “Ah. You don’t know how to use chopsticks, do you?”

Eduard crossed his arms. “Look, I appreciate this, but I can’t even eat the food you’re offering me.”

“Well,” Yong Soo took the chopsticks for himself, showcasing how they were used. “I could teach you.”

Eduard’s stomach growled, as if on cue. He sighed, grabbed the chopsticks, and looked up at Yong Soo. “Well then. I guess I’ll have to learn.”

“First of all, you're holding it wrong.” Yong Soo picked up his own pair and let Eduard see his hand. “You raise and lower the top chopstick. And then you can do this.” He grabbed a piece of the cabbage kimchi and lifted it over to his bowl of rice. 

Eduard fidgeted with his hand. He tried to ignore the feeling of embarrassment while trying to get a semblance of the position.

Yong Soo let go of his chopsticks and leaned forward. He guided Eduard’s hand to the right position. He backed up after he was satisfied. “Now try it. Move the chopstick above up and down.”

Eduard tried to focus on his shaky hands. He slowly nudged the chopstick up, but then the lower one clattered onto the table. Yong Soo smothered a giggle.

“Hey, hey now. I’m a beginner.”

“I know, I know.” Yong Soo smiled at Eduard and handed him the fallen chopstick. “Try again.”

Eduard eventually got the hang of the chopsticks. He tasted a bit of the food, gritting his teeth at the unfamiliar taste of kimchi.  

<AN: Yong Soo insisted it was a very common Korean staple, and concluded that Eduard just had a low spice tolerance for the red chili pepper.>

---

“You know what? I think I’ve rested for a couple of days, I should try a simple transportation trick. Transporting objects and people are my inherent abilities.”

“I say go for it.”

Eduard laid his chopsticks on the table and shook out his arms. Then, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the chopsticks, making sure to stay a bit away from them. “Come to me now…” 

The chopsticks vanished in a shower of sparkles. Eduard looked toward his hand expectantly. They didn’t appear. 

“Oof!”

A disgruntled Yong Soo pulled the chopsticks out of his hair. He handed them to Eduard. “They tumbled from the ceiling and ran into me.”

“Are you okay?” 

Yong Soo rubbed his head and then cracked up in laughter, “I don’t know about you, but I think you need to rest a bit more.” He tapped on the thick spellbook, “Maybe we can look through this together in the meantime.”

“Sounds fine by me.”

---

<AN: Brief continuity error below.>

“There’s something that’s been weighing on my mind Yong Soo. I normally travel short distances. How the hell will I get back home to Estonia?”

“You could make pit stops?”

“Not everyone is as hospitable as you, Yong Soo. Who knows what situation I could end up in.” He sighed, closing his eyes, taking off his glasses, and placing his head in his hand. “I've already been gone for awhile now. If I go back, I’ll get lost and be gone for good.”

Yong Soo looked up, at least that’s what Eduard could tell from his blurry vision, and stretched out his arms. “Well I am trying to work through this spell book to help you.”

“How are you translating it? Can you read English?”

“What do you mean?”

Eduard put his glasses back on and pointed at the spellbook. “The book’s in English, right? You said it was originally from a British sorcerer. I’m wondering if you can read it.”

“I can’t, not really well. But I did get my hands on this dictionary: English to Korean.” He lifted up a second, smaller book for Eduard to see. “I wrote a few notes for myself in the margins.” He pointed toward some notes on the sides. “English… is very different from what I know. Letters versus characters. It’s hard to decipher the text.” Yong Soo gave him a tired look, “You’re lucky, you know that? This dictionary was a really hard find. Without it you’d be stuck here with me until you walk to a port on foot and find a boat headed to Europe. The process is still extraordinarily slow, and I don’t know the vast majority of spells in here at all.” He looked back down to his book.

“Thank you for all this work you’re putting in for me. As a speaker of many European languages, maybe I could help?”

Yong Soo considered it and opened the spell book and the dictionary for Eduard to see. “Why not.”

<AN: they look over the spell book and determine which spells would be useful. This is a process that is tedious but rewarding.>

---

It was an abnormally warm winter night, so the two men decided to head outside and make a campfire. After all, it was brighter than a candlelit room with small windows. Out here, they had the stars and the moon too. Yong Soo clutched his spell book and wrote in the margins while Eduard semi-deciphered the word and matched it up in the dictionary. 

<AN: they get in a fight over something which gets somewhat physical, the dictionary (I was also considering the spell book?) slips into the campfire and burns up to a crisp. Imagine like a super comical, ‘keep the book up in the air like a volleyball’ shenanigans before it falls straight into the fire>

Eduard sat down, stunned. “I’ve solidified my own fate. I’m going to be stuck here forever. Shit.”

It was quiet except for the sound of a crackling fire. The two men started as the flames ate up the last of the pages.

“Maybe… maybe… how did you get that dictionary in the first place? What if we try that pathway again.”

Yong Soo mulled over the question before answering. “No that’s impossible. I got it through farway political connections.”

Eduard raised an eyebrow. “With a friend from Japan too?”

“Not friend. Acquaintance, and no it is not from him” He sighed and looked Eduard dead in the eye. “There’s no reason to hide the truth to you about it if we live in the middle of nowhere. Royalty: emperors and all. I used to work for them. Sort of. There’s a lot of things I can do with my inherent ability… I fixed your glasses with it. Mostly I fixed things there too: both physical and politically. In my free time I would make my own little inventions, tinkering with objects, and rewinding their physical state when I really messed up. But I was also a political advisor type. That’s where I really screwed up. Sadly my time spell doesn’t fix everything: it does not work well at all with organic matter for example. I left. I usually have some control over situations, with magic and all, but yet there I felt powerless. I feel like I ran away from it all.”

<AN: I wish I got more details as to what sort of role Yong Soo would play in an Emperor's palace. But I didn’t do my research and frankly don’t know what he would do.> 

<AN: This scene, where the two stare at this fire, is supposed to be a tender, shippable moment: people at their lowest bonding. Talk about YS’s background with Korean Royalty/government. YS’s fears are shown, he’s being vulnerable and talks a bit about his worries. Like Korea being smothered by its neighbors of China (Qing Empire) and Japan, at this point in history, leaning toward the latter. Eduard comforts him, and talks about his own life experience, like how Estonia doesn’t have that sweet sweet independence but it could come (ahem foreshadowing 1918). After the tender moment, with the power of teamwork, YS uses his time-manipulation-on-objects ability and Eduard uses his transportation ability to bring back the dictionary. The logistics behind it have something to do with the fire being extinguished, the ashes being clumped together, lots of back and forth, before they legit reverse a chemical reaction. They are tired out afterwards but satisfied dammit. >

---

<AN: There’s a scene in which they learn each other's languages. It’s cute, it’s quirky, and they bond. I’m in no place to implement this because I don’t know Korean or Estonian. A few more sessions of meeting up later, or maybe even in this section, they figure out a mix of spells that can get Eduard to go home.>

---

It was time.

The morning was quiet. Eduard looked out the window at the woods. The landscape was dusted with snowflakes. He wore his original clothes, no use of borrowing a hanbok now that he was heading back. Yong Soo joined him next to the window. He scooted closer till their shoulders touched. Despite how cold it was, Eduard felt warm.

“I can’t believe we did it.” He said, looking over to his Korean companion. “Thank you.”

“To think-” Yong Soo shifted, and Eduard turned to look. 

Yong Soo closed his eyes and leaned forward a tad, his bangs shifting to cover his face. 

“Okay there?”

“Yeah.” He sucked in a breath and composed himself. “Before you go…” He handed Eduard a piece of paper covered with beautiful strokes of black calligraphy.

“I haven’t learned these characters yet. What does it say?”

“My name. Three characters read from top to bottom.” He pointed to the very top. “Im,” to the middle, “Yong,” to the last, “Soo. 임.용.수.”

He pulled out another piece of paper for Eduard and a calligraphy pen. “Write your name down now.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to forget you.”

He looked Yong Soo in the eye, forlorn dark brown irises glancing back. He felt a sob rise in his chest and pushed it down. 

Eduard broke eye contact, and signed his full name on the blank sheet of paper. He handed it to Yong Soo. 

“Hold my hand, will you?”

He spread his fingers across the palm of Eduard’s hand. Yong Soo’s sleeve covered up their touch, but Eduard could feel their fingers lacing together. A solid grasp, and Eduard felt fulfilled and broken all at once. When he went home, could he ever feel this intact again?

“I don’t think I could forget you if I wanted to.”

“Write to me?” Eduard smiled despite the regret that he felt, swirling in his body. “I still need to learn that Korean.”

Despite his sad expression, Yong Soo broke into a smile. “Definitely.”

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” Yong Soo let go of Eduard’s hand and stood back, flipping through the spell book in preparation. “In a time where I felt distant from the rest of the world, you were my solid ground.”

“I’ll miss you,” Eduard whispered. He closed his eyes.

Before teleporting away, Eduard heard a faint murmur in response. “I’ll miss you too.”

---

Footnotes:

“An acquaintance. From Japan. And he got it from a British guy. My acquaintance is not on good terms with magic, even if he was once enthralled by it, and so I bought it from him.” 

I have long strayed from the Hetalia canon, but this is influenced by those episodes where hws Japan couldn’t see the magic-spirit-types in the hot springs but hws England could.

“At the same time, polyglots aren’t rare back home.“

I have no idea if this is true, but I would think it would be. At least in modern times, it seems as if there's some sort of forced bilingualism that people from small countries that deal with. In this case, for an educated man like Eduard, I think knowledge of other languages (Russian for example) would be very helpful.

“I wonder if you like pickled, spicy food.” He beckoned Eduard to come over too./“Pickled, yes. Spicy, no.”

I was going to have this be a whole bit. About culture comparison and stuff! Turns out, as someone who is neither Estonian or Korean with very little motivation to read through a wiki page, I didn’t have enough content to implement my idea.

“But I was also a political advisor type. That’s where I really screwed up. Sadly my time spell doesn’t fix everything: it does not work well at all with organic matter for example. I left. I usually have some control over situations, with magic and all, but yet there I felt powerless.”

His mess up refers assassination of Queen Min aka Empress Myeingseong. I’m debating whether to keep this part in at all because it’s rather horrible to add things in with little research yet I keep doing it.

Thank you to @/alfredtalia for giving me insight into Yong Soo’s name. If your interested, here’s the link to the post.

There’s probably more that I could write here. I’m fine with discussing unanswered questions about this fic thru tumblr asks.

Thank you for reading this long long post!

[kenmakittie]

Another Night - Arthur Fleck/Reader

Ok wow. This was my first attempt at writing for the first time in a loooong time, so apologies that this isn’t my best work. It’ll come with time, I hope. This film has affected me so much, and I honestly wasn’t sure what to write about when it came to Arthur/Joker, but the first thing that came to mind was the idea that being with Arthur would bring with it a lot of shit, man. I didn’t delve too deep in the mentality of the reader this time around, but there are mentions of anxiety and depression, so please be aware! Any feedback is appreciated and I’m more than happy to take requests. Also lots of smoking bc I’m a big boi smoker lol and lots of swearing bc I’m British and have no self control

This was intended to be a two-parter or two separate fics since the two parts are so different, but I liked them together in one piece instead of two separate pieces, and they can be interpreted as either; a slice of life fic in two differing times, or just smut leading into fluff! It’s whatever u want it to be! But yh there’s your warning, smut ahead, followed by some tooth-rotting fluff. The timings of this writing in relation to the timeline of the film is mixed up a bit, as this is all happening before Joker really makes an appearance, but, as you’ll see, the smut occurs right after the subway murders. When the second part takes place is completely up to your interpretation. I’ll shut up now lol please let me know what you think!!! 

________________________________________________________________

Loving Arthur Fleck isn’t straightforward.

 Almost a year you’ve spent worming your way into his life, trying to convince him that, yes, you did in fact care about him very much and that no, you weren’t lying or laying it on when you say you’d like to spend the night with him, be it talking and laughing when he has one of his insomniac episodes or… other things.

 Having Arthur move in with you after his mother passed made sense both logically and financially, you being a student with a fairly decent scholarship deal and Arthur having spent most of his life in poverty; you’ll never forget the first time he had stayed over and confessed he had no clue how to use the shower due to never having one all of his life and you asked yourself how the man continued to shatter your heart.

 He had always been nothing but loving and sweet to you, but you both had your fair share of alternating moods, and Arthur’s had always been… unpredictable.

 Cut to the current day and it’s 11PM; you’re sat on the dingy couch in your apartment, an old blanket draped over your legs and a cup of lukewarm coffee on hand after a long shift working at Arkham State. Despite Arthur’s absence, you were absent-mindedly watching Murray, blissfully unaware of the bloodied man strutting down your hallway until the door slams shut and you think you’ve shit yourself.

 “ Fucking- Arthur?”

 Silence. You’ve barely moved an inch when he walks within view, and your heart practically chokes you.

 Panting and dripping from either rainwater, sweat or both, his mustard vest is splattered with blood, make-up somehow simultaneously caked on and practically melting off his face at the same time, hair and clothes soaked through and through; you slam the mug on the coffee table in front of you and go to crowd him, but the second you stand up he flinches.

 You know too well how jumpy he can be on a bad day, but this is… different. You’ve been around for the aftermath of him getting jumped in the city many a time, so much so that it’s almost routine, but something tells you that isn’t Arthur’s blood. You feel your forehead break out in a cold sweat.

 His eyes meet yours across the room.

 He’s feral.

 You’ve never once seen him like this. He’s practically vibrating and, for the first time, you find yourself unable to think of what he’s managed to get himself into.

 “...Arthur, darling, what happened?” You’re absolutely cooing at him like a frightened child, but you genuinely don’t know what else to do. “…That’s not your blood, is it?”

 It’s more of a statement than a question - he’s still just… looking at you. Sizing you. And you’re beginning to realise what for.

 At this point you just want to get him talking to make sure they haven’t cut his tongue out or something, but the second you attempt to move again he visibly tenses; he’s wound like a fucking coil and you realise there’s probably only one outcome to this evening now.

“Did you get jumped again?” your eyes hone in on his face. “Shit, your nose is bleeding, Arthur, did someone deck you?”

 Nothing.

  You both stand at a stalemate, silently daring the other to make a move.

 …

 Fuck it.

 You take one step and he crosses the room in a second and all but slams into you, practically crushing you into him and your lips meet in a terrifyingly intense kiss; the rainwater from his hair is dripping onto your face and your nice warm clothes but all you can feel is his warmth, pulsing off of him like the fucking radiator he is. Never, in any of your more… risque encounters, has he ever ever treated you this way - Arthur makes love, takes his time to feel you and share himself with you. This… this isn’t the Arthur you know.

 No, the Arthur you know wouldn’t be grabbing handfuls of your ass, pulling your hips into his so you can feel how hard he is already beneath his soaked trousers; nor would he be shoving his tongue into your mouth, teeth clacking, to see how far he can push you before you squirm.

 You barely find time to breathe in between kisses, let alone think, and the next thing you know he’s walking you backwards, to the couch, a hand tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck, the other grasping at whatever part of your hips or waist he can find levity on; your knees buckle and you’re pushed - pushed - back onto the couch, landing with a soft ‘oof’.

 You suck in a breath and throw the TV remote at him.

 “Jesus fucking Christ, Arthur, you trying to kill me?”

  Again, you’re met with no response, and you make the same mistake of looking at him. Really looking at him.

 He’s panting as though he’s run a mile, looking down at you as though you’re the fucking finest piece of art he’s seen in his life.

 He takes a step toward your seated form. You don’t move an inch. And you certainly don’t notice the proximity of your face to the tent he’s pitched.

 “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” You feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise at the husky tone of his voice. “Am I being too rough?”

 You actually squint at him; what the ever-loving fuck happened to him?

 “I’m going to need an answer.”

 He’s somehow managed to move even closer now; you move your head a fraction of an inch forward and your mouth would make contact with his zipper. Something tells you that’s not exactly an accident.

 “No.”

 “No what?”

  What the fuck.

 You palm him through his trousers and watch his composure break a little. You know a trap when you see one.

 “What’s gotten into you?” he almost responds, but you drag your hand over him with a little more force. “Cat got your tongue?”

 You cup him a little harder, enjoying the way his eyes fall shut a little too much; with speed you’re not entirely sure you possessed, you unzip him, pull his cock out and have him in hand before he can get a word in.

 You grip him with just enough pressure to make him hiss through his teeth. You give him a sharp tug and he grabs a handful of your hair, hips involuntarily pushing forward.

 “Careful now.” His voice has dropped so low, it actually makes your stomach clench.

 You rub your thumb around the head, smearing the tiny bead of precum across the smooth skin, wetting your lips.

“No, no.” he tuts, taking your chin in his hand. Busted. “No time for that.”

 Before you can get another word in, he’s shoving your skirt up around your waist, all but shoving your face into the arm of the couch as he rips your underwear off of you, throwing the lace into the darkness of the apartment. His hands leave you and you hear the familiar metallic clink of his belt and you actually have to bite into the fabric to calm yourself down.

 Not even bothering to take his trousers off all the way, they pool at his ankles as he kneels on the couch behind you, palming your ass with too little pressure for your liking; Arthur knows exactly how to push your buttons when you’re this worked up and you could honestly just fucking cry.

 “Arthur, please - “

 Your whining seems to work, and before you have time to actually properly beg, he slips a finger along your soaked clit - he makes a noise in the back of his throat and grinds his dick into the cleft of your ass.

 “God, you’re so fucking good, honey, all wet for me, I’ve barely even touched you.”

 You simply push your hips backwards, desperate for any friction you can get before you give up on the charade and start fucking him senseless into the couch; he’s rarely ever this dominant, and you want to milk him for all he’s worth. Literally.

 “Arthur, can you just please fuck me, seriously.”

 He actually laughs, a full on belly-deep laugh, behind you and smooths a hand over your hips, squeezing your love handles as he goes.

 “Since you asked so nicely.”

 It’s the only warning you get before he lines up and sinks into you in one go, the feeling of his hip bones pressing into your ass sending your tongue to the back of your throat as you sink your teeth into the couch cushion to shut yourself up.

 Arthur’s hands are shaking as they hold steady on your hips; he leans forward even more, pressing his bony front against your back, grinding his hips against you all the while. He bites down onto the nape of your neck, determined to leave a lovely reminder for you that you won’t even be able to see. You shift you hips underneath him in an attempt to get him to actually properly fucking move, which results in him sliding in even deeper, and you both groan with the new-found angle and your hand involuntarily shoots out to grab his forearm beside you. He chuckles into a moan and you think it’s possibly the hottest sound he’s ever made.

 No words are exchanged after this, no whispers of sweet nothings; just the sound of his hips slamming into you from behind resounding through the apartment, accompanied with Arthur’s heavy pants and your muffled whimpering into the sofa; he’d never been one for making much noise when he fucked you, but you always liked a challenge.

 Without warning, you blindly grasp for a handful of his hair behind you, and you know you’ve struck your target when you feel the dripping locks twist between your fingers and he grants you an appreciative groan, followed by a hiss through his teeth as you clench around him and pull his head down next to yours in the same breath, causing his hips to stutter and a high-pitched whine to echo through the room and you decide that’s absolutely a sound you want to hear from him again.

 “Arthur, baby, you wanna try something different?” You manage to pant out. You can tell he’s interested by the way his hips stop, but his subconscious just won’t let him not keep fucking you as his cock ever so slowly guides itself in and out as he considers your offer.

 You can tell he’s hesitant; once he finds something that works for the both of you he’ll stick to it, and right now you know he needs this to calm whatever’s going on in that head of his, and you want to get the job done properly. “…Like what?”

 Bingo.

 It’s all the confirmation you need; you manage to pull yourself up to your knees as he slides out of you, and as you rise to stand on shaky legs, you push him gently to sit with his back against the couch. He lands with a soft exhale, and now you can actually see him, you take a second to look.

 Arthur’s eyes have always been one of your favourite things about him, but currently, they’re the last thing you’re focusing on - his hair, soaked from the weather outside, is dark and slicked back out of his face (most likely ran a hand through it when you weren’t looking, but you can’t complain) and his shirt and vest are still on and clinging to his frail form and you make a mental note to rid him of those at the next opportunity. The thought, and any other ringing through your head other than ‘fuck me’ turns to ash in your mouth as you take in the sight of him just…staring at you, with his trousers and underwear still looped around his ankles, his legs spread wide and his cock bobbing against his stomach with impatience and suddenly you find it hard to breathe with the sheer amount of want that overcomes you.

On instinct, you tug your shirt of over your head and begin to rid yourself of any other barriers of clothing, and Arthur follows suit without another word. It only takes you seconds, and all it takes is one step towards him and he’s tugging you into his lap, kissing you with so much fire it makes your stomach coil and his hands are everywhere all at once, smoothing over your back and your hips and your ass and it’s all you can do to stay composed and in control.

 Without saying anything you pull away, as difficult as it is, and turn in his lap to face away from him. Arthur realises in an instant what it is you plan to do, and he’s more than eager to give you a helping hand in guiding yourself onto his dick backwards.

 The second your cunt makes contact with the head, his hands grip your hips so hard you can visualise the bruises already, but your head is nothing but white noise as you engulf him slowly, sinking lower with each outwards breath and the stretch is deep and almost aching, but with how tense Arthur is behind you, you know you won’t be here for much longer.

 You try a roll of your hips to gauge the angle, and the noise that leaves Arthur’s throat is unlike any you’ve heard before, so desperate and needy that he could fuck you on the floor if he wanted to as long as he kept letting you hear him.

 It’s not long before you find a rhythm that works, a mix of your hips working with Arthur’s to get a perfect angle and he’s so deep your head is spinning as your ass works in his lap; he’s actually moaning for once and the sound is addicting - you shift in his lap to try and look at him, but the resulting angle makes him actually shout and you know you’ve not got long left now.

 You’d managed to stave off the pressure mounting in your cunt for some time in favour of focusing on Arthur, but this new angle is making you sweat, and you feel yourself building with every move of his lovely thick cock inside of you. He hits home a bit too well, and you gasp into a moan that almost chokes you; his hands find your tits, finally, and he grips and rubs with his calloused hands as your head falls back onto his shoulder, and he wastes no time in licking the skin between your shoulder and neck as he pants into your flesh, ;pressing searing kisses and nips there.

 “C’mon, honey, it’s ok, I’m right behind you,” hearing his voice so strung out and low does nothing to help you hang on to what little composure you have left. “So good to me, so -” a gasp. “So so good, god -”

 He brings a hand down to your clit, and it’s not even two seconds before your thighs clench around his, your hands turn to vices as you grip the wrist inbetween your legs and the other goes around the nape of his neck; he’s mumbling into your ear now, a mixture of expletives and whispers about how good you feel and how he never ever wants to stop - with one last bite of his teeth into your shoulder, your hips freeze in place and a silent scream leaves you as your orgasm comes crashing down, all but whiting out your vision.

Arthur growls into your shoulder, unable to keep himself from fucking up into you, and he takes the opportunity to keep your hips in place so he can start pushing up into you as you come down from your high; your legs are spent but you keep yourself raised above him as he pounds upwards and it doesn’t take long before you feel yourself building again, Arthur’s death grip on you giving you no other choice.

 You go to speak to him, to try and warn him, but the second your head turns a fraction, you heard him choke on an inward moan, and he yanks your back to his chest, arms around your stomach and chest turning to steel as his hips somehow move even quicker.

 “Arthur, jesus, fucking -”

You can’t even string a fucking sentence together and he actually somehow has the audacity to laugh into your ear, the sound alone sending you crashing over the edge again; this time he’s not able to restrain himself, and he shoves up into you one last time before you feel his cock pulse inside of you, the noises leaving his throat sending your head reeling as it hits his shoulder again; he pushes his face into yours, wanting to feel as much of you as he comes in waves into you, and you think you could die here, right now, and be the happiest woman alive.

 When it’s over, his grip on you loosens enough for you to begrudgingly pull yourself off of his softening dick so you can turn in his lap to face him again. The second you sit on his thighs again, he wastes no time in pulling your head into him, planting wonderfully deep kisses into your weathered lips, his hands lazily caressing whatever skin he can find. When you lean back just enough to take in his face, he’s practically glowing from the endorphins and you snicker to yourself. He raises a brow.

 “Something funny?”

 You run your knuckles down his cheek, and he actually fucking nuzzles into your touch like an alley cat and you have to scoff internally at the ridiculousness of you blushing at the gesture. You present the back of your fingers to him, painted in what’s left of his make-up, the rest of it most likely on you.

 “Just you.”

 You use the paint on the point of your knuckle to paint a smiley face into his chest, above his heart.

                                                             ~

   Loving Arthur Fleck is not simple.

 When you’re not practically forcing food down his throat or whatever else his tiny stomach can handle, you’re trying to have him keep up his regular support appointments; take his meds in the correct dosage, wash his hair for him. You’re in no state to be such a vital anchor for the man, but after the death of his mother and closest friend - if you can even call him that - you’re all he’s got going.

 You know exactly the circumstances in which said mother and friend died, but you both silently vowed to never breach the topic in each other’s company for fear of triggering the staggered response from such trauma. No, for now, you’ll take whatever opportunity you can to enjoy the simple quiet moments, like the gentle hum of The Flamingos record buzzing away in the next room, and you rinse the suds from your lover’s hair whilst he rattles off a few of his trademark ‘jokes’, rehearsing for his next performance.

 Lover.

 The word almost leaves a singe in your mouth without even saying it out loud and you ask yourself when that happened.

 “Honey?”

 “Mm?”

 You know you’re not focusing on anything currently happening in the bathroom, and he knows it as well.

 Arthur takes both of the hands - your hands - from atop his head, tangling his fingers with your own, rubbing his sodden digits into your knuckles, earning a few weary cracks. You don’t know why, but you make no move, say nothing as he stares at you. You feel him carve letters into your flesh, but make no attempt to connect them together at any point, the smoke curling from your mouth dizzying you.

 “You’re wandering again, aren’t you?”

 As he plucks the cigarette dangling from your lips with nimble fingers and takes a drag, you absent-mindedly register the time he first used that phrase to, rather aptly, name your most famous habit. Staying in the present is a challenge for you both, but for you it had become somewhat of a coping mechanism for the constant curveballs life had been throwing at you for the past few years of your life.

 Moving to Gotham to study brought with it a harsh reality that being a student in a city devoured by poverty and unemployment made you, a young woman living with three other university attendees, increasingly vulnerable with each passing day. Your degree course was one of the few in Gotham State that still received government funding, but each tiny slip from you or any other student became a massive red flag to the funding body, and god knows they would find any excuse to pull the plug. You worked your ass off both in and out of lectures, part-timing night shifts at Arkham State Hospital to bring in the cash you needed to make rent for your shitty shared apartment -

 “Darling, please look at me.”

 The stale smell of the smoke uncurling from Arthur’s lips brings you back again, your own blood calling out for the nicotine. He places the cigarette back in your mouth, and you kiss his fingertips quickly as he does so, making him laugh quietly.

 “There you are,” he closes his eyes again as you rub small circles into his scalp again, the way you know he likes. “Thought I’d lost you again there for a second.”

 You scoff, ash cascading from your mouth. You apply a bit more pressure. “Not that transparent, am I?”

 “To me, you are.”

 You hum along to a random song as it echoes through the apartment, pretending to be nowhere near as affected by the statement as you are. Arthur’s point is proven when he smiles like that at you, making your nerves flood.

 The bathwater shrouding Arthur’s naked frame is tinged green; as you rinse his hair one last time, you watch the trails of colour the water leaves in its wake, trace the colour down the bumps of his spine with a finger, making him shiver. You frown.

 Loving Arthur means loving all of him - which you do, violently so. So much so it makes you almost nauseous. But his weight, or lack thereof, always bothers you. Years of putting Penny’s wellbeing before his own meant his appetite had basically vanished all together, meaning that, despite your best efforts to feed him up, he’s barely gained anything in the months of your being together.

 A weary sigh leaves your lungs as you push the stub of your cigarette into the ash tray on the corner of the bathtub, leaning over Arthur as he rubs his hands over his face. Ever the opportunist, he uses your proximity as leverage to catch your chin between his fingers, turning your face to look at him.

 “Thank you.”

 A pause.

 “What for?”

 He smiles and your heart pounds at the sight. He simply averts his gaze to your lips, using his thumb to gently tug on your bottom lip. He leans into you, pressing a sweet, burning kiss to your mouth.

 Your eyes shut involuntarily as you respond on instinct; despite Arthur’s lack of experience in certain areas of intimacy, he more than makes up for it in these moments alone.

 You press back a little harder, and he makes a small noise at the back of his throat that really, really doesn’t help your conscience.

 He pulls away first, sensing your change in mood, one hand laying gently on the nape of your neck, the other resting his fingers on your cheek. He smells like your lavender bath oil and you try to think of any reason to not jump him whilst he’s still in the water.

”You look after me, and I never ask you to do any of this,” you make the mistake of meeting his eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

 The intensity of…. whatever that look in his eyes is puts your body into fight or flight mode, and without even thinking or breathing your legs spring under you and you practically jump up from the stool you’d pulled up beside the tub. The screech of wood on the ceramic tiles makes both of you jump. Your head is practically screaming at you to ‘get out, get out, get out get-’ because this is too much, you haven’t felt this strongly in years, and now you have this fucking angelic man looking at you like you’re the sole reason for his existence.

 Your legs carry you to the threshold of the doorframe. You halt.

 You know you can’t do that. You can’t walk out on Arthur after he’s just opened up to you about something like that; the intimacy of his face terrifies you, but the thought of shattering him frightens you more.

 You turn back to look at him, chest heaving, sweating and dizzy.

 He’s simply sat on the edge of the porcelain of the bathtub, towel wrapped loosely around his waist, looking at you. With that small smile that he thinks hides how nervous he is and it makes you want to jump out of the fucking window.

 “Arthur,” you don’t even recognise the sound of your own voice. “I look after you because you look after me, whether you realise it or not.”

 You… had meant to say more. Instead of making another attempt, you decide to avert your attention to the increasingly interesting fraying wood of the doorframe, distantly thinking about how the record in the next room had stopped playing.

 You’re ripped from your own head as you see Arthur rise in your peripherals; you flinch involuntarily and curse under your breath.

 “Hey, hey, sweetheart,” he coos, flocking over to you. He moves over to you slowly, almost as though approaching a fucking deer. “It’s ok, I’m here. You don’t have to pretend.”

 His voice is so soft and warm, it’s all you can do not to fall into his embrace as he wraps his arms around you, rubbing soothing circles into your back and shoulders. Droplets are falling from his hair and running down the side of your face but you couldn’t give less of a flying fuck, as long as he kept holding you.

 “You’re so brave for me, honey, you don’t even see it,” he sneaks a hand into the hair at the nape of your neck, sending a lovely shiver down your spine, and you cuddle closer into him. “You put on a tough face all the time, it just worries me when I see you like this, that’s all.”

 You feel yourself welling up. You hate crying, especially to him. He has more than enough going on, you’re meant to be the one looking after him.

 “It’s horrible, isn’t it?” You sniff, and he hushes you, pressing his nose to the warm skin of your neck, placing slow, soft kisses there. “I’m such a fucking child, all the time, and I hate it, I don’t see how you can like me at all half of the time.”

 He scoffs, actually scoffs, and you feel him shake his head against the bottom of your chin. Arthur takes your head between his hands, all but forcing you to meet his eye.

 “You’re so wrong. You’re so capable it scares me sometimes - I think my life is hard, but I come home and see you passed out on the couch with your assignment papers in your lap, or I see you come home from doing an overnight shift at the hospital, and all I see is a woman that I know can look after herself.” he smiles. “Almost as well as I can.”

 You snort, despite yourself, and he runs a thumb over your cheek to catch a stray tear.

 “You are pretty good at looking after me.” You admit.

”I know.”

 You tuck your face into the crook of his neck, and he begins to sway gently, humming a tune to himself. You’d happily stay like that until the moon came crashing into the earth, but you know how prone Arthur is to catching a chill.

 “C’mon, chuckles, you should get dressed for bed.”

 He sighs into your hair before you feel a wicked smile imprinted itself there.

 “Dressed?” he presses his lips into the crown of your head, winding the arm around your waist a little tighter. “Where’s the point in that, hm?”

 You roll your eyes at him chuckling at himself in the confinements of your mussed up hair and poke his ribs, making him hiss and bat your hand away. “Alright, yes, Ma’am.”

 He reluctantly lets you go to sort out the bathroom, but turns to face you at the doorframe to give you a rather charming salute. You smile despite yourself.

  “I do wonder why I love you sometimes.”

 …

 Sorry, what?

  You don’t even register the words leaving your mouth, but when they do you’re elbow-deep in the tub, pulling the plug out, and your breath leaves you in one fell swoop.

 His voice is tiny and small and young.

 “What?”

 Oh, you’ve fucking done it now.

  Your body kicks into overdrive, moving at 100mph around the small room to keep your hands busy whilst your mouth runs on autopilot.

 “Yeah, I mean, did I never tell you that? Damn, that’s funny, I can swear I remember saying that to you last week or something, not that big of a deal, am I right?” You laugh far too loud. “Hey, I know, you wanna go out tomorrow night? I’m not working until Tuesday now, so I thought it’d be nice -”

 “You love me?”

 You’re at the open window when he repeats that word back to you and your brain ponders the likelihood of you surviving the jump. You like the odds.

 You can’t ignore him. You know this. You also know you can’t look at him right now because you also know he’ll never be able to say the words back to you because all he’s known is fucking pain and suffering and he’s all you have now and you also know that you’re absolutely overthinking this and it’s probably been about a minute since you said anything.

 You look over to him with your heart in your throat.

 He’s crying.

 You think you might be too.

 “Yes.”

 A breathy laugh that could be either of relief or disbelief leaves him and he rubs a hand over his face. He walks out of the bathroom without a word and you genuinely ask yourself whether or not he’ll come back.

 You don’t know how long you stand there for. Seconds. An hour. You feel your throat closing in on you in panic.

 You walk straight through to the living room to hunt down your pack of cigarettes so maybe your hands will stop fucking shaking long enough for you to get a grip - you’re met with the sound of your favourite record playing from the corner of the room and the sight of Arthur dressed in the new cardigan you had bought for him but he always said he never felt “deserving enough to wear it”. The combination makes you well up again, but with what emotion you’re not entirely sure.

 You stand in the threshold of the room, hands fiddling with the loose strand of your jumper as Arthur approaches you to take your free hand in his. He leads you to the couch, where you perch carefully on the edge of the seat in case you need to bolt before he lowers himself to one knee in front of you.

 “I’m sorry for reacting like that.” You meet his eye, and he strokes the curve of your cheekbone with his knuckle. “I… wasn’t expecting you to say that and I panicked. It was cruel of me to do that.”

 You take his hand in both of yours.

 “Arthur, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have said it like that anyway, I didn’t even mean to say it -”

 “But, you meant it, right?”

 No running this time.

 “Yes, I did.” you run your fingers across his lips. “I do.”

 The smile he gives you is laced with something you can’t quite place but it’s more than enough to put your heart at rest. He kisses your knuckles before leaning in and placing a sweet, searing kiss on your lips, making your fingers curl into the soft wool covering his arms.

 “Good.” Arthur smooths down your hair and presses his lips to your forehead, much like you often do for him. “I love you too.”

 You’d known that. Of course you had, you’re not blind. But the sentiment still catches you off-guard nonetheless and you press your forehead to his, breathing in the intoxicating mixture of his cigarettes and cologne combined with your bath oils.

 “I know.”

________________________________________________________________

[coleisunderrated]

Wish Upon a Shooting Star Going to Heaven

Okay everyone! I’m not gonna leave you hanging on that shitty prologue! Get ready to cringe at my first real story here to go with the holiday season! I’m sure it’s a story you’ll all enjoy!

Twas the night before Christmas when two souls had a fateful meeting.

The weather was extremely cold but with all the Christmas cheer and joy that blessed the village of Terra, everyone was able to withstand the harshness of winter. Cole was no exception on his way back to his family’s home, looking forward to the presents, decorations, feast, and above all, cake. His mouth watered just thinking about the deliciousness of the delicate sponge cake, fluffy cream, rich chocolate, and tangy fruits -

“OOF!”

Thanks to his sturdy build, Cole hardly lost his balance but the person he bumped into wasn’t so lucky. The skinny figure landed on their bottom and matches scattered everywhere. The person frantically picked them up and feeling bad for causing them trouble, Cole helped them.

“I’m so sorry about that. Let me get those for you.” He apologized.

“No. It was my fault for being an annoyance.” A voice that would’ve been silky smooth if it weren’t so frail spoke.

Once all the matches were gathered, Cole got a good look at the person and was saddened by his appearance.

The tall young man who appeared close to his age looked like death itself. Skin as pale as the snow falling around them, thin lips shaking from the cold, cheeks sunken in from lack of food, and tangled fair hair proved to be hard to look at. Cole pointed his earthy green eyes downward and found his voice in the worst way possible.

“Your feet...!” He cried out in an almost insulting tone.

While he was clad in baggy rags, the poor guy’s feet must’ve been exposed for a long period of time as the flesh had darkened and his toes were shriveled.

“Oh, I’m sorry for frightening you,” The freezing stranger apologized again, “I lost my shoes when I jumped away from the path of a carriage but my shoes slipped out and got trampled.”

Cole was flabbergasted at how this poor young man kept apologizing for things that were out of his control. All he could think about was taking him to his home, get him clean and warm, and share the holiday feast with him.

“Would you like to buy a match?” The stranger interrupted, offering the tiny stick.

“Are you trying to sell matches?” Cole raised a bushy eyebrow at the tiny item. No one would want to buy such a minuscule thing at a time like this.

“Yes. As per my guardian’s orders. I must sell all of them before I’m allowed back home.”

“Why does it matter if you sell them all or not?” A hint of fear revealed itself in the stranger’s eyes.

“He will... punish me if I fail... And I was strictly informed to not come back until I sell them all.”

Cole was far from stupid. The boy’s vulnerable appearance and anxious aura when talking about his guardian can imply only one thing.

"You don’t have to go back.” Cole said rather abruptly.

“What...?” The match seller was taken aback.

“Come with me. My family is rich. We can give you food and a place to sleep.”

“I would like that but I must fulfill my duty... and I don’t want to be a burden.”

“It’s not like this guardian or whatever will find out. Just throw out the matches and tell him you sold them.”

“But what about the money?”

“Don’t worry. My family is rich so I can just give you the money. How much are the matches?”

“One is for ten gold coins.”

“Really? That much for just one?” Cole couldn’t believe the ridiculous price for just one tiny piece of wood and didn’t hide his disgust.

“I’m sorry. My guardian chose the price.”

“Stop apologizing. If it makes you feel better, I have just enough for one match.” Cole offered what little money he had and the seller handed over the tiny stick. Still, he wasn’t satisfied until the match seller was safe. The pale boy turned to leave but Cole wasn’t having it.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Cole grabbed the seller’s arm and noticed his thumb met the tips of his fingers. The poor guy was even skinnier than he looked.

“I can only give one match to one person each. It’s also my guardian’s rule.”

“Why should it matter as long as you got the money? Like I said, my family is rich. I can take you home and give you all the coins they’re worth.”

“But I must obey my guardian.”

“You’re really not gonna give up are you?”

“I have accepted my task and I must see it through to the end, no matter what.”

Cole had a feeling arguing with him will be futile but he wasn’t going to let him be forgotten during one of the most joyous times of the year.

“Fine, but listen to me. No matter what happens, we’ll meet right here on Christmas morning, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll be here in the morning.”

“And I’ll also bring you some cake. I promise.”

“I really appreciate that. Until we meet again, farewell.”

The match seller walked off before Cole could respond. With nowhere else to go, the wealthy lad resumed his once forgotten journey home. He held on to the match like his life depended on it. He can’t imagine what the impoverished seller was going through. Once they meet up, he’ll find a way to free him from that so-called guardian. He made sure to remember it, even when he reached his large house in the wealthiest neighborhood in the village.

“Cole, where have you been? The party is about to begin!” Lou pulled his son inside so he can take part in the celebrations. Cole tried to tell his father of the poor young man he met but Lou wasn’t having it. Christmas is supposed to be about spending time as a family and he won’t let his son miss out on that.

Even as he received presents from his relatives he hadn’t seen in years and had his fill of roasted meats and warm home-cooked dishes, not even while eating slice after slice of his favorite cakes, Cole never forgot about the poor match seller. He kept his eyes on the match for most of the night until he looked out the window at the stroke of midnight just before going to bed and saw a shooting star flying across the dark sky. He normally doesn’t believe in it but he made a wish upon that shining star. He wanted to keep his promise to the match seller. He wanted to make his Christmas just a little bit brighter with his company and a big piece of cake and give him the life he deserves.

And perhaps find out his name.

Zane spent many hours into the night trying to sell matches but the crowds soon dwindled and even the carolers have gone home. He remained because he was obligated to fulfill his task. It was the least he can do for Vex for taking him in when he had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. But in a way, it made his life more difficult than it has ever been. He can count the times he slept on a content stomach with one hand as Vex ate most of what little food they can afford as well as the times he actually slept on a bed inside the house as he had often failed to complete the tasks Vex set out for him and just as often punished for it. He can’t fail him now, even when he was the only person remaining outside. Even then, he can’t go back until he sold every match.

The only sources of light to guide him were the moon and stars and the lights shining from within the warm houses of the village. Zane’s curiosity occasionally took control, leaving him frequently pausing to gaze at the windows of some of the homes. The lights provided by the nearby candles or a distant fireplace left him longing for warmth and the lingering scents of homemade meals ached his empty stomach. Zane endured, remembering the promise the rich boy made. He’ll get to eat Christmas cake for the first time in years and while that was just enough motivation to press on, his whole body has its limits unlike his will.

Spotting a little corner in the street, Zane took shelter, huddling against the wall and relying on what little warmth his thin rags had to offer. He still shivered, the echoes of his clattering teeth bouncing to and fro in his ears and each breath he took strengthened the swirling white fog surrounding him. Zane glanced at the matches and felt temptation growing inside his heart. If he lit one, he may find warmth but he knew he mustn’t and tried to hold out. It was so terribly cold and the thought of obtaining even the slightest bit of comfort quickly became too great to resist.

‘Maybe just one will be fine...’

Completely forgetting about any punishments Vex will inflict, Zane swiped one match against the wall. The heat and light emitted from the tiny flame gave him just a tiny piece of comfort but the poor seller couldn’t be more grateful. For some reason, he felt... happy. Staring at the tiny light awoken memories of a time where there was no pain, nothing to worry about, and knowing what true happiness felt like. It’s been so long ago he almost forgot and he only remembered just now because of his interaction with the wealthy young man who bought one of his matches. He wondered what he’s going through right now. He’s probably at home opening heartfelt presents, eating a lavish feast, or warming himself before a cozy fireplace... just like the one in front of him.

‘...What...?’

Zane knew it can’t be possible but it felt all too real. He can count each log burning in the hearth made of bricks. Above the flames, he can see woven stockings packed with trinkets. It’s all too good to be true yet no matter how many times he blinked, the wonderful scene remained before his pale eyes. The visage lingered for a time before slowly fading away. Zane almost cried out for the fireplace itself to stay but it quickly vanished, leaving a searing hot pain in his fingers to pour salt on the wound. The match seller flinched and a blackened match landed in the snow before him.

‘Was that vision coming from the match?’ Zane wondered to himself, staring at the burned out stick, ‘If I light another match, will I see anything like it again?’

Zane knew he’s already in big trouble for using a match for himself. Temptation quickly proved to be much harder to fight than the most seasoned warrior.

Nothing mattered to Zane anymore besides seeing these visions. Without hesitation, he swiftly lit another match. This time, he saw the most luxurious feast he had ever laid eyes on. The table was already large to allow room for all the delicious things to display themselves before him. There was roast chicken and beef, tall glasses of sparkling drinks, adorable decorated cookies, and a big, beautiful cake in the center. Zane felt his once dry mouth become drenched in saliva and reached out for the tantalizing food before him. Just like the fireplace, the gorgeous table disappeared once the match burned out.

Zane didn’t let a second go by before lighting a third match. He was greeted by the heartwarming sight of a cozy house decorated for the holidays. All the windows were framed with brilliant lights and hanging on the door was a wreath adorned with a big red ribbon twirling around the greenery and topped with big sprigs of holly and tinkling bells. The most beautiful of all was the large Christmas tree in the center, decked in a dazzling array of lights, ornaments, and tinsel. The tree was so tall Zane craned his neck up to see the large Christmas star that sparkled and reflected the various lights, illuminating the whole room. And just like the previous two visions, it all disappeared when the third match went out. Yet Zane continued gazing up at the starlit sky.

At the stroke of midnight, he saw a shooting star riding across the heavens. Seeing it suddenly reminded him of his father, his true parent who was the only person who treated him with love and kindness until his passing. He remembered when he was very little, his real father told him that when a shooting star appears in the sky, that is actually someone going to heaven. He wondered who it was that had to die on Christmas. He silently prayed that the poor soul will find happiness wherever they’re going.

And then Zane lit a fourth match and what he saw was something more precious to him than any glamorous decorations, extravagant feasts, or even a comfortable fireplace.

“Father...!” His feeble voice escaped his lungs and echoed in the night.

Standing before him was his father who was supposed to be dead. A tender smile graced his elderly face yet there was a hint of sorrow in his old and worn grey eyes. Zane now wished more than ever that the visions created from the matches were real. He wanted to believe his dearly departed father really was standing before him, giving him the love he never felt again since his death. He didn’t say or do anything but Zane was still overcome with joy by his presence he wanted to cry yet he can’t. He simply can’t produce any tears no matter how much he wanted to, almost like his body was too weak to do such a simple task. Just like everything else before him, the old man slowly started to fade when the match’s light began to waver.

“Father, no! Please! Don’t leave me!” Zane cried out, desperate to feel love and happiness again, desperate to not lose anyone or anything dear anymore.

Before the match could go out, Zane lit another so his father can stay with him. Much to his relief, his father was still there. As long as the matches were lit, he won’t leave. Zane lit each match one by one until none were left. The fire of the combined matches gave off a glow akin to the sun and his father looked even more radiant within its light. With both a loving smile and sad eyes, his father extended his hand to him.

“Zane, it’s time to go.” His father spoke in the same gentle voice he had and it was just as Zane remembered it.

“Go? Go where?” Zane asked, apparently confused.

“We can finally spend Christmas together as a family. There is nothing for you to worry about anymore.” The old man stepped back so his son can see the beauty surrounding them.

Zane looked around to see he was now in the same house with the same fireplace, feast, and Christmas tree that appeared earlier. He took in every sight in awe until his eyes fell on the cake. He recalled a promise to have Christmas cake in the morning and that’s when the memories flooded back. He did manage to sell one match to a wealthy young man whose face resurfaced in his psyche as well as the promise they made.

“But what about the young man I met earlier? We promised to meet each other in the morning.” Zane hesitated, not wanting to break his vow.

“The morning where you two reunite will come to pass.” His father spoke with the same wisdom he possessed in life.

Zane had a feeling his father was right. He too began to sense they will reunite in the future. For now, he can be with his beloved father again and finally have their first Christmas together since they parted.

Zane accepted his father’s hand and sank into his warm embrace, not wanting to let go of this love and happiness he knew will never leave.

At that moment, Zane knew he was finally home.

And then the morning came.

Cole wished he hadn’t seen the sad sight before him.

The poor match seller laid dead in the corner, covered in a thin layer of snow and surrounded by his matches that have been burned black as soot. He apparently died from the cold and futilely attempted to warm himself.

“The poor thing must’ve froze to death...” The villagers wept at the sad sight.

While everyone else expressed pity and sympathy for the dead young man, only Cole noticed the tiny smile on his face. He looked so peaceful and he had a feeling he was finally happy wherever he was. If only he didn’t have to die.

“No... No...” Countless tears rolled down his dark cheeks before he realized he was crying for the dead match seller.

The cake that was once in his hands now lies forgotten in the snow. Cole clutched the frail, cold body and sobbed, not caring that everyone saw or what they thought of him holding this stranger in his arms. If only he were alive, he could’ve felt the warmth of his touch that had come too late. The match seller may be at peace but Cole wasn’t. Not when he failed to keep his promise to save him.

Cole looked at the frozen smile and thought about how happy he must be in the afterlife. Somehow, he was determined. Even through his tears and despair, he made a promise to the match seller again, one he knew will never be broken.

“One day, I will find you... I promise.”

[sammie-skele-turtle-blog]

There we go!!

@miss-rose-fiction @pitkin13

To these two ( and a third note who won't show up.. ) Thank you for those notes! I had slowly started righting less and less in that story, and it really encouraged me to finish it! ( well, the first chapter. I've been writing it for a few weeks now. But I barely ever wrote anything in it ) Now, I have to warn you. I've never wrote a story about real people. Sad things happened to Jack, so he will be a bit out of character. Although, he will be the happy, fun loving Irish bean we know and love soon. I really tried to have Mark react like he would if this situation happened to him.

Obviously, Jack is not a Youtuber in this story, so Mark hasn't met him yet.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction. I know this hasn't, and never will happen. Please forgive me for any repetition, spelling, or any other types of errors. If you can, please politely give me some advice and constructive criticism without being mean. Thank you so much for reading and giving this story a chance!

Summary- This story is about Borrower!Jack ( Which means he's tiny. He's only a few inches tall ) and Human!Mark. Jack has been hurt alote, and has escaped from the previous home he was living in. Now, he's living in Marks home. What happens when Mark sees him? How does he find him in the first place? Well, read and find out! ( Sorry for the horrible summary )

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OK, so, you know when little things start to go missing? Suddenly there's just a TIIIIIINY bit of floss missing. Or, how about when suddenly you see weird little shapes taken out of your tissues or paper towels? How about when a fishing hook suddenly disappears, or when little bits of holes are suddenly in your food, and all you can think is... ' How? '.

This happens because of borrowers. What are borrowers you may ask? Their tiny humans. You read right. Tiny humans. They hide in your walls. They take those things to survive. " Why haven't I seen one before? " you ask? Well.. Very few have been seen. A small amount of borrowers survive to tell the tale. Or they never get away. Very few humans see a borrower and think anything other than, ' Freak ', ' Vermin ', or ' New pet '.

" Why would they live in the house then? ". Well, some don't. Some stay away, try living in nature. Most don't make it. Others, those who have confidence in their ' sneaky sneak ' skills, take the chance. ( Or their just to scared of being eaten by some wild animals. )

So, now, here's Jack. He is a borrower. He is one of the few who have survived and escaped. He has run into three humans so far. The first tried to cut him in half. The second tried to get her dog to eat him. The third put him in a cage and gave him many bruises. He only escaped that last one when he somehow wiggled out of her grip. He had some bruised ribs as a result, but it was worth it.

Jack is now, consequently, afraid of humans. Petrified, even. He would avoid their homes if he could, but, he knows he wouldn't survive out in the elements. So, he does the sneaky sneak. He gets what he needs and hides for the rest of the day. Sometimes he goes a day or two without food and water. Some days he can gather up enough to last a week. It depends on the human.

Now, he is living in the wall of a new house. He has been for a month. Luckily, the human seems to have no idea that he's there. He knows the human's name, Mark. Jack has Mark's schedule memorized, to avoid any confrontation. He knows what Mark will do and when he will do it.

Or at least.. He thought he did. He really thought he did. To think it all started with a cookie..

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

Jack had been waiting all day. All day, for the moment Mark would finish his videos and play some leisure games, read a book, or watch TV. He found out, during a close call, that just because he was making a video it didn't mean he wouldn't go into the kitchen. He had a chance to get supplies safely twice a day, for at least half an hour after the human bean made videos. He would soon come in to get a snack, after either his first or second video. If Mark didn't come to get his snack, he got extra time to restock his supplies

Finally Mark sat in the living room. He had a snack, and was watching some tv. He grabs a bag next to his bed made up of tissues, along with his home made grabbling hook. He stuffs the plastic end from a water dropper for water. Jack comes out from an opening behind the fridge. He edges his way from behind the fridge, and walks up to the counter. He swings the hook around for a moment, then throws the hook up, which gets caught on a handle from one of the drawers. Jack quickly climbs up. He grunts every once and awhile, because my gosh this is hard!

Once he's up there, he unhooks the grabbling hook, and climbs the few inches to the top. ' Alright, I need a bit of paper towel, some sugar, a cracker, and more water.. ' Jack thinks. He walks over to the paper towels, and starts tugging pieces off, when a delicious smell hits him. Jack looks over, and feels himself start to drool. It was.. a cookie. He hasn't had a cookie in so long!

Jack quickly runs over to it, and starts trying to break pieces off it. When he can't, he decides on lifting one side up, sitting down criss cross, then lowering the cookie onto his lap. He starts biting and nibbling at it, a happy hum making its way from the back of his throat. This brought back so many memories, so many wonderful memories from before everything. When he was still with his Ma, his family. Before those humans hurt him. He felt old childish glee that he hasn't had in so long.

He was almost in a trance. He couldn't help it. He just kept eating, he wasn't paying attention. He didn't look around at his surroundings. So, it's understandable that he didn't hear the footsteps approuching. Or the mumbled " Now where's that cookie.. " It's even understandable that he didn't hear the small gasp that came from Mark.

Although, it was pretty hard to miss the shadow that fell over him. The, rather large shadow. Jack had been facing away from the doorway into the kitchen, to entranced in his glee to think about keeping watch. Jack slowly turns his head back, twisting his body with him, allowing the cookie to slowly fall off him. His blood runs cold when he sees the huge chest in front of him.

He slowly starts scooting back, looking up as he does so, up, up, up... Oh gosh. " Wow.. Wha-who are you.. " Mark mumbles, as he lowers his head to rest his chin on the counter. His mocha brown eyes were filled with curiosity.

' Oh no, ' Jack thinks, eyes widening with horror as he backs away more. ' Curiosity is bad. He'll grab me, inspect me. Even try to keep me in a cage for awhile. Before he gets bored and kills me.. Or oh god, decides to keep me as a pet! ' Jack thinks, shuddering at the memory of him locked in a cage, bruises covering him head to toe.

Mark slowly brings a hand up to him, causing an extremely (un)manly squeak to escape him. Jack scrambles to his feet, and runs. " Hey, wait! " Mark calls. ' Ok, all I have to do is jump to the fridge handle, slide down, then jump down. Then I'll be closer to the ground and have less of a chance of dying.. ' he thinks. Jack gets to the edge of the counter. He looks down. ' Oh gosh this is high.. ' Jack thinks, but makes up his mind when he glances back, and sees Mark just a few feet away. Jack takes a deep breath, and jumps.. And judges his projectory horribly. He misses the handle, and falls to the ground.

Jack hits the ground, a small ' thud ' following. Jacks breath gets knocked out of him. Pain shoots threw his side, causing a groan of pain to escape him. Luckily, nothing seems broken..

Within a minute, that horribly huge shadow falls over him again, althought this time its so much worse. Mark is at his full height now, and Jack.. Well, he's at the smallest he can get. Jack stands up, and runs, tries to get under the fridge. But he can't. He hits a warm, cushioned wall, or other wise known as Mark's hand. He falls back on his bum with a ' oof ' sound escaping him. ' No, no no no no no! ' Jack thinks, horror dawning on his features. He can't turn around. He's frozen with fear.

Mark himself is now squating down, his hand still infront of Jack, the other slowly inching closer towards our little Irish borrower. He slowly puts his hand, palm up, behind Jack. Then, using the hand that had blocked Jack from his escape, he gently nudges him into his open palm.

He cups his hands around Jack, to make sure he doesn't fall, and stands up. Although, in his horror induced trance, Jack doesn't realize how gentle he was being. He doesn't realize how careful Mark is being with him. Jack snaps out of it, and his adrenaline rush kicks in over-drive. In his panic, Jack does the first thing he can think of..

He bites Mark, and doesn't let go until he thinks he can taste blood.

" OW! " Mark yelps loudly. Jack prays it'll make Mark drop him, but no such luck. Mark simply switches the hand he's holding Jack in. Mark holds his hand up to examine his hand. " You.. You bit me! " Mark says, his eyes wide when he sees the tiny bit of blood seeping from the wound. It wasn't bad, just a small little cut. " Why would you.. "

Mark looks down at Jack, and frowns. Jack was curled into a ball now, he was trembling, obviously terrified. He hadn't heard the shock as.. Well, shock. His mind had interpreted it as anger.

' Oh gosh, oh gosh, why did I do that?! Oh geez, I'm so in for it. Im so stupid, now he's mad. Now he's really gonna hurt me.. ' Jack thinks, as he puts his hands above his head. No, it wouldn't protect him, but it made him feel.. A bit safer. Mark thinks for a moment, and slowly sits down. He's careful to make sure Jack doesn't get jostled. Mark brings his hand up, and gently starts rubbing Jacks back with his thumb.

Jack flinches at the contact, a small whimper escaping him. " Hey, Hey, its OK. Its OK bud.. I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise.. " Mark says. Jack doesn't believe him..

Mark brings his thumb back up. This time Jack doesn't flinch, but he doesn't stop shaking. He can't stop. A strong shudder runs threw him. Mark notices, and tries to think of a way to help reassure and calm him down. Mark looks over, and sees the cookie he was eating. " Hmm.. " Mark hums, as he comes up with an idea.

" So.. Were you eating my cookie? " Mark asks. There's amusement in his tone. Jack, luckily, hears it. He's still cautious though, what if he gets upset that he was eating it?

" U-um.. Well, ye-yeah. " Jack says. Mark barely hears him. " I-I'm sorry, I haven't had one in, in awhile and I cou-ouldn't help it! Please don't be mad, I-I'll leave right now, just, please don't hurt me.. " Jack pleads, cringing when Mark stands back up.

He holds Jack in one hand, cupping him against his chest in an attempt to comfort him. He keeps rubbing Jack's back with his thumb. Mark grabs the cookie with his free hand, and puts it in the hand he's holding Jack in. " Hey, hey, its fine, really. I swear, I'm not mad, and I won't hurt you. I mean, it'd be cruel to hurt you over a cookie wouldn't it? You don't have to leave either unless you want to.. Here's the cookie. You can have it. " Mark says.

That.. wasn't what Jack had been expecting. The girl who had kept him in a cage, well, she treated him like a useless pet. She always hurt him when he did something that made her mad, no matter how small his misdeed was.

Jack slowly uncurls himself. He glances up at Mark. Mark has a gentle smile, he hasn't stopped rubbing Jack's back. It's actually reassuring, and he hasn't hurt him, just like he promised..

Jack now looks to the cookie. He reaches out to it, grabs it, and pulls it towards himself. He looks back up at Mark one last time, and starts taking bites out of it again. " There we go, that's it. See? Its OK. Its alright. What's your name? " Jack swallows some of the cookie, and looks up at Mark. He's calmed down now, he wasn't exactly scared. Just a bit cautious.

" Urm.. It's Seán. But I prefer Jack. " Mark smiles. He's glad that Jack has calmed down enough to talk to him. " My names- " " Mark.. I know. I've been living here for a few weeks now. " Jack says. His nerves kick up a bit again. What if Mark thought it was weird that he's been living here, sercretly like he has?

" Oh, how come I haven't seen you before? " Mark asks. " I've been sneaking around. Most humans don't like borrowers. I shouldn't even be talkin to you. Were supposed to leave when humans see us, because most humans try to hurt or kill us. " Jack says. He doesn't mention the last humans he's encountered. I mean, yes, Mark hasn't hurt him. He's been nice. But he's still a stranger.

Mark frowns once again. How could anyone hurt these little guys? Thats so horrible.. " Well, like I said, I won't hurt you. I understand, so don't worry. " Mark says. He wants to keep reassuring Jack until he's sure the little guy feels safe.

There's a moment of silence, filled with Jack simply eating at his cookie again. " Hey.. Did you mean It? When you, said I could stay? " Jack asks, as he wipes some chocolate off his mouth. " Well, duh! " Mark says, giving him a big smile. Jack smiles back, and sniffles a yawn. His adrenaline has run down, he's tired now.

" Heh, seems your tired. " Mark says, as he walks into the living room. He gently sets Jack down on a pillow, and puts his cookie off to the side. Mark, carefully, sits down next to him. " Wha- why.. " Jack begins to ask, before Mark interrupts him. " I thought I'd just let you sleep here for now. I mean, it's gotta be more comfortable than whatever your sleeping on. " He explains.

It was more comfortable. " Thanks.. Sorry I bit you. " Jack says, as his eyes start to shut. " Its fine. You were scared. Don't worry about it. " Mark says. Jack nods, and closes his eyes. He feels.. Really content. Happy, even. Maybe this'll work out for the best..

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There ya have it y'all! It's done. Thank you again to those who left a note on my previous note saying I'd make this story. I'm not sure if you were liking it for the crappy picture ( Why? ) or for the story ( again, why? ) but I'm very appreciative! It honestly made my day.

Again, I'm sorry for any errors. Leave a note or comment if you wish for me to continue! I know it's not the best, and I got some ideas from other stories. I swear I didn't copy, if it seems suspiciously similar to another story, please tell me, and if you can send me a link to that story so I can know what to change and what I can keep.

If you LIKED it, leave a note if you can, thank you, and I'll see you later my Skeleturtles!

EDIT- Heres the second chapter for anyone who for some reason wants to read it- Its right here

Another edit- Chapter three can be found here!