#my best friend folks

[cartoon-buffoon]

..... This is my beta reader and also my best friend. This is the girl who I've opened up to and told my deepest trauma to..... And this is their level of intellect. Natural selection is a fucking myth

[bacchuschucklefuck]

soon it'll be dawn again

transcript under the cut ⏬

page 01

Fig: no way? - you're still up?

Riz: Wh– yes?

Riz: Why'd I not be.

page 02

Fig: I me~~ean - that took.

Fig: whole day.

Riz: Yeah?

Fig: 'm beat.

Riz: you should sleep.

page 03

Fig: nah. my guy's still up

Fig: I wanna hang out.

page 04

Riz: That's really nice.

Fig: Hah! - Nobody ever expects an Archdevil rockstar to be nice.

Riz: … yeah. - 's just budget work tho. (the stuff I'm working on) - I've heard it's boring.

page 05

Fig: yeah, but you do it…

Riz: It keeps things going, right? - Nothing happens if nobody sits down and - does the thing.

Fig: That's right… - though. Yeah.

page 06

Fig: sometimes it's someone else who - doesn't want the same thing to happen.

Riz: … - mm.

page 07

Riz (off screen): …It took me a long time to get that not everyone likes doing what I do. - 's probably because you guys are so nice– - or. - kind.

Riz (off screen): to anyone too, not just. - the people you /love/.

page 08

Riz: that's not how it is elsewhere. - The world's– not. hostile. - but 's not like it's kind.

Riz: So I'm doing as much as I can now… 

page 09

Fig: Hey.

Riz: ?

Fig: Go dig some dirt with me.

page 10

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - oh you meant like - actual dirt. (not incriminating information)

Fig: o yea.

Fig: there's clay in the backyard soil. - sometimes when I'm sun deficient or something I go touch dirt for a bit.

page 11

Fig: here u go

page 12

Riz: uh

Fig: now we make a thing! - 'm pretty good at freehanding a bowl.

Fig: I'll show u

page 13

Fig: just– yep, flatten that out as evenly as u can, then–! - actually ur nails'd be so good at cutting out the strip. [larger than usual space] wait. - wait. wait u can carve patterns with them! we HAVE to try

Riz: uh - What. do I carve?

Fig: anything!!!

page 14

Fig: and– yep just seal the inside uh. seam?

Fig: yep that works - okay time's up! all contestant hands up

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - okay - wh. what's next?

Fig: haha - watch this.

(sound effect text): FWOO��MP

page 15

Riz: WH– DON'T JUST DO THAT???

Fig: Now it's fired!

Riz: THAT WAS NOT SAFE

Fig: (actually it's just dry. if u add water rn it'll dissolve)

Fig: ok catch!

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - careful!!

Fig: dw no need haha

page 16

Riz (thought bubble): oh - it's warm…

Fig: now I want you to throw this.

page 17

Fig: u gotta do it - c'mon

page 18

Riz: wh– - It's like 3AM right now

Fig: oh it's not /fired/ fired it's not gonna make a loud noise

Riz: And then just? leave a pile out here?

Fig: pour water over it & it'll be gone I told u

Riz: but

page 19

Fig (off screen): RIz.

page 20

Fig: I've done all this before.

Fig: Can you trust that at least?

page 21

Riz: no, I– - I do. - I trust you.

page 23

Riz: okay what happens now

(sound effect text): glob

page 24

Fig: we do it again!

page 25

Riz: wh. [larger than usual space] What do you mean. (this clay's too wet also)

Fig: see! you're already learning

Fig: [blank speech bubble] - there are flows that are futile to fight. - The world changes.

Fig: Things change.

page 26

Fig: I've learned my lessons with "forevers". - But - as an artist

Fig: I can give you one thing: - You can always do it again.

page 27

Fig: most of everything depends on the rest of the world, - but this. - making new. - that's yours as long as you want it.

page 28

Fig: So?

page 29

Riz: Yeah. - Yeah! - let's make another one.

[starry-bi-sky]

(Part of this post with older brother danyal al ghul)

...Okay, look. Sam knows she's staring. She knows very well that she is staring. And that if she doesn't stop staring it's gonna draw her unwanted attention, and that will only have to make her explain why she's staring. Which she doesn't want to do.

She's trying not to stare, which she thinks she should get brownie points for. She tries to look away, to find a spot on the wall to stare lifelessly at, maybe she can burn holes into some of these annoying socialites' heads. But eventually her eyes drift, and suddenly she's back to staring again.

Can you blame her though? Damian Wayne looks like a very close mini-me of her fucking best friend. Seriously, it's like looking into a mirror to the past. If that mirror to the past had green eyes rather than blue and a distinctive lack of a facial scar.

The first time she sees him when her parents drag her over to Bruce Wayne to butter up to him she has to do a doubletake. Then a triple take. Then a quadruple take, just for good measure that she was seeing what she was actually seeing. She was sure she looked like one of those stress toys that when squeezed had their eyes pop out comically like a Saturday morning cartoon, that's what she certainly felt like anyways.

Look, Danny's come a decent way from being that scowl-y, jerkish little ten year old she first met when he arrived like the wind to Amity Park five years ago (even if he was still occasionally scowl-y and jerkish), but one thing that's stayed the same is how reserved he is about his home life prior to being taken in by the Fentons.

He doesn't talk about it much, and Sam's come to know that he's very good at changing the subject when it gets brought up. Even after being friends for nearly four years, the only thing she and Tuck know for certain is that he has a little brother that he refers to as 'starlight', whom he cares a lot about but left on really bad terms with. And that he's never met his father, but wants to and knows who he is.

He's never told her or Tucker who he was though, and glancing at Bruce Wayne, Sam is realizing why. She can begrudgingly acknowledge all the good he's done for Gotham, but... well, if Danny told her that Bruce Wayne was his dad, she wouldn't have believed him at all.

But she's starting to see the resemblance, as subtle as it is.

And she sees the resemblance to Damian Wayne, her eyes dropping back down to him as he wears a very Danny-like scowl on his face, arms crossed behind his back as his eyes swept around the ballroom. He was five years younger than Danny, and god it was so, so weird.

His eyes turned on to her, and they locked gazes for a moment.

Involuntarily, Sam makes a startled noise and looks away. Fingers tap against her purse, black and purple and unfortunately a clutch that only held her phone and her wallet in it. She would have kept a knife on her, but her parents put their foot down and there was a security detail at the door. Only in Gotham.

Silently, she was hoping that the little Danny-me didn't say anything. Or at least, he hadn't noticed her staring. Which was a tall order if she ever heard one -- and unfortunately, her silent prayers went unanswered as her mother's eyes dropped down onto her.

"Did you say something, Samantha?" She asks in a sickeningly sweet voice, a sound that makes Sam's skin crawl. Her dad and Bruce Wayne's attention also turns onto her, and she glowers at her mom from the corner of her eye.

"I didn't say anything." Sam says, barely keeping her tone polite as she turned her head away. Her mother clucks her tongue, disapproving, but from her peripherals doesn't pester her more

Bruce Wayne, the bastard, takes that time to turn to Sam and grace her with his dime-a-dozen billboard smiles. "I've been talking with your parents this whole time, Miss Manson, you must be terribly bored. How is your schooling going?"

Sam eyes him up and down. On one hand, she immediately wants to be snarky. It's none of his business what her school life is like, she doesn't care for his fucking small talk.

On the other hand, this was Danny's whole father. Someone who she knows that Danny has wanted to meet for, what she's assuming, his whole life. He's never brought it up much, but she remembers that very quiet, solemn conversation she and Tucker had with him where he admits to having never met his dad. But god does he want to.

And... wait. Sam's eyes narrow, and she meets Bruce Wayne's eyes. Does this man even know Danny exists? She drops her gaze down to Damian, who was staring at her suspiciously, and then back up to Bruce, and she alternates between them.

Why was Damian living with Bruce, but not Danny? Why hasn't Bruce done anything to reach out to him - what was going on with Danny's biological family that Danny had to be separated from them, but not Damian? Danny's always been kinda mysterious, but now things weren't adding up.

Was Danny given up? Does Bruce just not want Danny, but wanted Damian? Why the fuck does Bruce Wayne know about Damian but not her best friend -- or does he know and just not care? He's fought for custody for his adoptive kids before, does he just not want to fight for his other biological son? Does he think Danny's not worth it?

She's never cared much about the Wayne family before, other than to hear about the advancements on WE's eco-friendly tech, but Sam thinks she's gonna have to look into why Damian Wayne was living with the Waynes.

Slowly, with a protective anger beginning to burn in her gut and crawl up her throat, a scowl slowly curls at the corner of her lip as she redirects her glare from her mother onto Bruce. "It's going fine," She says curtly, jutting her chin out defiantly. "Me and my friend Danny started a petition to fix the leaky faucets in the girls and boys' bathrooms in order to conserve more water for the rest of the city."

She eyes his face, waiting to see if anything like recognition flashes through it. And- and nothing. Sam breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to quell the red that's blurring the edge of her vision -- does he just, not know where Danny is?

Her parents however, make vaguely displeased expressions. "Our Samantha is... quite passionate about her pet projects." Her dad says, laughing low and nervously, "she's very vocal about silly things like that."

"Her friend Daniel is perhaps even worse than she is sometimes." Her mother adds on, fanning her face with her perfectly manicured hands with a sigh. "I swear, he's the one that keeps dragging her into these things."

Sam's anger turns on its head, and she whirls on her heel like a fire-breathing dragon. "It's Danyal." It rolls out like instinct. Danny's told them both that he hates the Americanized pronunciation of his name, but in a rare moment of restraint, puts up with it for reasons unknown to her. "And Danny doesn't make me do anything, it was my idea."

The name, Danyal, seems to ring some kind of bell in Brucie Wayne's head, because she sees him and Damian quietly perk up like two cats pricking up their ears. Her eyes flick onto him immediately, something dangerous rearing its head. So Bruce Wayne knows about Danny. And he's not reaching out to him. Is he? She's not sure.

She does know that she's gonna rip his throat out if she finds out that he's known about Danny this entire time and has been ignoring him while favoring his little brother. She'll hunt down Aragon herself and steal his dragon-shifting amulet and wreck house on Bruce Wayne if that's the case. Batman and his league of vigilantes be damned. Her parents don't notice her slowly turning head towards Bruce.

But Bruce does, and she makes direct eye contact with him. His smile doesn't falter, he just tilts his head like a curious puppy and looks at Sam's parents. She hopes Bruce can read minds, she hopes he can hear her threatening him.

"Danyal?" He asks, and Sam doesn't know if she hates the fact that he said it correctly or not. She just continues burning holes into him and hoping he might spontaneously combust.

Her mother waves her hand dismissively, tilting her nose up poshly into the air. "Our dear Samantha's little... foster friend from school," she says, not even bothering to hide her disdain, "a creepy little boy with the most garish scar on his face. He's a rude little thing, not good for polite company."

Scratch that, Sam mentally alternates between ripping into her parents and Bruce. She whirls on them. "Do not talk about Danny that way." She all but snarls, and they all but ignore her.

(She's tearing up the upholstery when she gets home. She's going to paint over the fine china. She's going to do something to make them pay for this.)

"Oh yes, he was taken in by that freaky Fenton family a few years ago." Her dad continues in lieu of her mom, and they both shake their heads disapprovingly. "It's just what our city needs, another menace."

"Danny is not a menace." Sam continues, raising her voice while her hands shake with rage. Her parents finally look at her, but she can already tell that they're going to scold her for raising her voice. She bulldozes over them and jabs her black-painted finger at them. "He's got a bigger heart than the both of you combined."

"Samantha, please." her mom says, exasperated. They both give her disapproving looks, Sam thinks about grabbing champagne off the tray of a nearby waiter and throwing it in their faces. "You defend that boy far too much. What do you actually know about him and his family?"

Sam sets her jaw, puffing herself up like a dragon protecting its hoard. She steps into her mom's space. "I know that he loves the stars; you can ask him anything about astronomy and he could give you an entire lecture on the formation, class types, and various gasses that stars are made up of. He can tell you how the Earth was formed, he can tell you about the visible light spectrum and about light curves, and a whole ton of other stuff that I don't really understand. But Danny loves talking about it."

Her face twists and scowls, "I know he cares a ton about the environment and about fixing light pollution, and preserving the forests and natural habitats of animals." She nearly jabs her finger into her mom's chest, "I know he loves dogs, and that there's one he feeds every day on the way to school that he calls Cujo, its a St. Bernard puppy and Danny carries him around whenever he sees him after school, and is in the middle of training him."

It's not a total lie, but it's not the whole truth either. Cujo doesn't need food, but Danny gives him it anyways. "I know he likes spicy food and loves movies but specifically only sci-fi and horror, and he hates most martial arts movies. His favorite superhero is the Martian Manhunter, but Batman comes in at a close second." For reasons to her that were pretty unknown, but it didn't matter.

"I know he loves wordplay and making puns, which I would have never expected from him when we first met, but it's so unbelievably Danny-like that I can't imagine him not making puns." And she smiles a little to herself, she remembers the first time Danny intentionally made a pun once and it got startled laughs out of both her and Tucker.

Her smile suddenly falters, and she swallows. Her lips purse up, wobbling, and she very quickly glances over to Damian Wayne, of whom is watching her with a vaguely bewildered expression alongside Bruce.

She turns her eyes back onto her parents. "And I know that he worries a lot, even if he has a shit way of showing it. I know he had a little brother that he hasn't seen since he was adopted by the Fentons, and he doesn't talk about him often but when he does he he calls him 'starlight'." From the corner of her eye, she sees Damian jerk.

"So- so, so what if he's not 'good for polite company'." Sam's voice, embarrassingly, cracks down the middle. But she's so angry over Danny's behalf that she doesn't really care. "Or that he can be mean, and critical, and stubborn. He's learning, and he's becoming kinder by the day. That's more than I can say about you."

(She remembers when Danny finally admitted to her and Tucker being his 'closest friends'. It was sometime before the portal incident, and it felt like a milestone because beforehand he only really referred to them as his companions or allies.)

(At the time, he'd looked unsure of himself. Skittish like a stray in the back of an alleyway, almost shy in his own way. It had come out stilted, slow, like an infant taking its first steps, and it would have been endearing if it hadn't been heartbreaking.)

Her parents rear back like she'd struck them, and her mother holds a hand against her chest in aghast. Sam doesn't care, she blinks the sting out of her eyes. "Samantha." Her mother starts.

Sam cuts her off, "I don't care what you have to say, you-- you pricks." she snaps, around her, there are gasps. Belatedly, she realizes she's grown an audience, but again she doesn't care. "Danny might be an asshole, but he cares. And I'd rather be around someone whose mean but cares, than someone whose nice but doesn't."

With that, she whirls on her foot and turns on Bruce Wayne, who has been silent the entire time with a surprised expression on his face. He starts to shake out of it when Sam turns to him, but she doesn't give him the chance to speak. "Enjoy your party." She snarls, and then stalks away.

[hyacinthusmemorial]

Hope is the theme of today for quite a few reasons.

[menlove]

I love how paul can literally call john "pretty baby" in a song everyone and their brother acknowledges is about john and everyone still collectively goes "wow I love this platonic song to john lennon"

[anatomy-of-a-ghost]

Am I turning in your stomach?

Am I making you feel sick?

[cozylittleartblog]

small PSA: if you shop at craft shows or artist alleys, please bring more than apple pay or a virtual card - especially if you're not comfortable entering your card number manually. not all of us have fancy card readers, so please also bring your physical card or cash, even if it's only as backup 👍

[stealingyourbones]

Gotta love when folks write Superman incredibly anti-clone even though he had good reason in the beginning to Not Like Superboy (HES A WINDOW INTO WHAT CLARK WOULD HAVE BEEN WITHOUT THE KENTS) and decide that forever on he’ll be spiteful towards clones even though he literally Does Not Care if you’re a clone unless you’re Superboy.

[sophsun1]

Queer As Folk – 1.19: Good Grief!

[asexual-shelly]

my Jen for @pepbuttz pride collab! Super glad I could participate, hope I was able to do my girl some justice ✨

[idk-tbh-idk]

Is there anyone to tell her who she is?

[starry-bi-sky]

more cfau miscellaneous things because Childhood Friends Danny and Jason have my head and heart always and I need to finish rewriting chapter two dammit (and redo the half-finished chapter 4 because its just Not The Vibes). i'm almost through I need to get through the graveyard scene. (i just stubbornly refuse to have it be shorter than the original chapter and thats the little death. that is the mind killer.)

Danny and jason’s ghost forms both smell faintly like burnt flesh and cigarettes. However, Jason has a more smokey smell while Danny’s smells almost,,, electrical? In a sense? Like he just straight up smells like burnt flesh and sulphur while Jason smells like someone put him in a smoker first.

It’s very much an unpleasant smell but Danny finds an odd comfort in it just as much as he finds a comfort in the smell of nicotine.

(Jason post-revival smells burnt flesh once and is immediately offput by the fact that it brings him an instinctive comfort. He doesn’t realize its because it reminds him of Danny, and is uncomfortable by it.)

-

In an au of an au, Danny’s altercation with Rath ends with Rath regaining enough of his sanity to snap out of the grieving state and ends with him breaking down. Instead of being souped and imprisoned, Rath, who is permanently 14, decides to Move On into the unknown. He’s exhausted, heartbroken, and tired.

(Is this influenced heavily by the ParaNorman scene where he talks to Agatha and helps her move on? Yes. But it doesn’t fit with the Original Storyline so im shoving it into an Au of an Au.)

Rath tells Danny that Jason lied to them (which he genuinely believes), and that he’s tired of waiting/looking for him/grieving. Jason is gone. He isn’t coming back, he abandoned them. And he wants his mom and dad, and his sister, and his friends. And he’s ready to join them.

He leads Danny out to Gotham, which other than Amity Park might’ve been the only city left untouched due to Rath’s own mental block on the place. They go out to the park he and Jason used to frequent or up to one of crime alley’s rooftops, and there Rath lies down and goes to sleep. Only to never wake up again, materializing into nothing as his soul moves on.

Before Rath leaves, he forces Danny to promise him that he’ll only wait for Jason for ten years. After that if he doesn’t find him, or if Jason doesn’t show, then Danny has to move on. Whether that be like how Rath does, or if its inly mentally/emotionally, doesn’t matter. He has to move on. Don’t wait for him. Don’t waste his time any more.

(“Oh, and if you find him, kick his ass for me.”)

Danny reluctantly agrees, and Rath lies down. Danny sings to him as he falls asleep.

(Angsty points if the vigilantes including Red Hood caught wind of their presence and were silently watching from the shadows. Rath might know they’re there, but Danny’s too focused on Rath to notice.)

(If only so that Red Hood realizes that this is what happened to Danny, and that Danny is gone before he can make things right. The tragedy, folks. The angst. The initial realization that Danny was Rath, and then also that Danny was dead and has been dead for years, and that before he moved on, he moved on believing that Jason abandoned him.)

(like i said it doesn't fit in the original timeline/storyline hence why its an au of an au and isn't nearly a fleshed out, but i was largely just focusing on the tragedy of Rath moving on and Jason being alive to see it and realize just who Rath is.)

-

Just like how the Lazarus pits shot Jason's twiggy 4'6-5'4 (depending on what you find) feet tall and 86lb ass up like a tree an essentially fixed his malnutrition, the portal did the same thing for Danny.

(granted i forgot about malnutrition and danny's likely stunted growth at first -- his family lived in crime alley and despite both his parents working, I don't think they had enough food all the time. He probably wasn't as badly malnourished as Jason was, but he wasn't healthy either.)

Granted his ghost in its "natural" state (14) is short, and his growth spurts were slow at first, it did result in him reaching his dad's height. There were points where it just happened overnight, like a baby. He went to bed one night 5’6 and woke up the next day 5’10.

Jazz is shorter than him. Although I have't decided if she's even liminal at all (and if she is, it didn't cure everything because she would have also suffered childhood malnutrition, and since in au canon their parents didn't get their hands on physical ectoplasm until after they got to Amity Park. So the exposure is less.)

-

Danny's voice absolutely sounds like canon Dan's. It kinda just dropped one day when he was 16-17 and never went back up. Sam and Tucker sometimes ask him to just talk about anything because they find his voice soothing.

I'm not sure yet how Danny would feel about it at first considering Rath, but I imagine that Rath, when he did speak, would have had a quieter and scratchier/weaker voice considering he's spent the last decade shrieking and crying.

(and i suppose technically that shouldn't have any effect on his throat considering he's a ghost and idk if that would actually affect him, but i like the idea so im keeping it)

In the beginning you could hear him from a mile away by the sound of his loud, echoing wails, but ten years later you can only really hear him by the soft, shuddering sobs he makes. Like he's gasping for air that isn't there. The future is full of very quiet survivors.

And it's much easier to speak when you pitch your voice upwards (especially when whispering/speaking quietly) so he might've spoken in a higher, airy pitch in order to be heard. So Danny might actually find a comfort in having a lower voice.

[nerdalmighty]

For light and life!

[ghoulgeists]

an npc is someone who can be so babygirl. agree?

[jessicas-pi]

for the three sentence prompt, could you do sabezra in a mythical creature au, whether it be the mer one or another variety if you want?

so i DID start writing some mer-fic but then I realized it actually worked a lot better as part of a current mer-WIP I have going, and I also had another idea and uhhh long story short this is kind of a continuation of this one!

--

Ezra perched cozily in the window seat, carved into the soft golden-toned wood that made up the walls, ceiling, and floor of the room. Spiderweb-fine curtains (that may or may not have actually been made of spiderwebs, he wasn't sure about that) fluttered as a light breeze brushed through the window, bringing in the scents of flowers and the distant chatter of hundreds of voices.

In the middle of the room, the Seelie stood, watching him just as intently as he watched her.

"You know," she huffed, breaking his gaze and crossing her arms, "I was really expecting more of a reaction to all of this!"

Ezra tilted his head indifferently. "I mean, I've always wondered if you'd have wings or not, so that answers my question, I guess."

Her pink-violet wings, which looked like something between bumblebee and dragonfly, twitched at this. "These are a little creation of my own, actually," she said, a pretty smile pulling at the corner of her mouth as she shrugged one shoulder. "I liked how your modern, storybook fairies had wings, so I gave myself some. Started a fad, actually."

"Modern fairies?" Ezra repeated. "Fairies have had wings for a long time."

"Yes. Well. They didn't when I first visited your realm. But that was..." She paused to think. "About five hundred years ago, more or less."

"You're five hundred years old?!"

Her smile grew. "Time is flexible in the space between realms. If you counted the days I've been alive, they would add up to just under nineteen years. But... I have been visiting your realm since about 1361, so..."

"But---I thought you said five hundred years ago, you first came?"

She looked at him curiously. "Is it... not... 1855?"

"It's 2024!"

"...oh." She chuckled nervously, and if he wasn't mistaken, she might have even blushed at her mistake. "I---I lose track of time, sometimes."

"I'll say you do," someone snorted as a door that Ezra hadn't seen---it blended smoothly into the wall---was thrown open. A new Seelie sauntered in. "Because you missed dinner. Again."

She startled at the unexpected entrance, and glanced at Ezra for a split second. It was enough, apparently, because the new Seelie looked over his shoulder, right at Ezra.

He stared at Ezra.

Ezra stared at him.

"Hi...?" Ezra ventured.

The new Seelie looked over at the first one and stated, "I'm telling Mom you brought a human home."

"I'll kill you," she replied without missing a beat.

Ezra held in a laugh at that. "So, I assume this is your brother?"

The pretty Seelie gave him a look that was dripping with exasperation.

"Unfortunately, yes." She took a deep breath, then sighed. "Brother, I'd like to introduce you to... Jabba-the-Hutt-Lando-Calrissian-Brom-Titus-Dev-Morgan."

"The third," Ezra added, deadpan.

part one || part two || part three

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

Grief

Buckle down, this is a heavy one. I enjoy causing myself emotional pain, and this hurt/comfort fic is definitely it.

Featuring pre-relationship! Sylus and my OC Kit, regarding her past relationship with Caleb, her ex. Kit is NOT the MC (although Kiri, mentioned in this fic, is), but she is an assassin and Sylus's second in command. Ironically, this was established for me before I knew there were "assassin second in command" fics around.

Trigger warnings for this one: Grief, workplace abuse (not Onychinus, briefly mentioned in non-explicit detail), unintentional physical altercations, lack of eating due to grief. This is addressed and resolved in fic.

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider giving it a like or a reblog! It lets me know people like what I'm doing and encourages me to continue writing!

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

The phone hits the floor, its screen shattering.

Kit is soon to follow, her knees giving out beneath her. She can hear Luke and Kieran speaking urgently to her, a voice on the other end of the call crackling out from the speaker, but it's all underwater. Muffled sound that should be words is nothing compared to the heart-rending cry that rips from her throat.

“No. No! Caleb!”

Kit doesn't leave her room for three days.

Later, she'll learn that no one thought to call her. The one who finally asked is River, part of the high school/university friend group who had witnessed the beginning and inevitable end of her relationship.

He's the one who broke the news.

Kit doesn't remember much from those three days. She doesn't eat, barely sleeps, and spends most of her time curled up in her lofted space in Onychinus's attic.

She's there when Sylus finally intervenes.

A hot cup of cocoa is put into her hands, its heat startling her enough to make her look up. Sylus's expression is inscrutable, and if she wasn't in shock, she'd have laughed at the way he's bent forward to avoid the low ceiling.

“Drink,” he says firmly. It's an order, not a request.

Kit’s lips touch the edge of the mug, the sweet aroma curling around her. Her mouth trembles, and her stomach twists. As if accepting bodily functions is a cruel smack against her grief.

A reminder that she is alive, and Caleb is not.

Sylus crouches in front of her. His gaze is steady as he waits. A single pale eyebrow raises in disapproval.

“Are you going to disobey?”

She tilts the mug, sweet chocolate coating her tongue, sugar forcing her back to reality.

Tears sting her eyes, and Kit begins to shake.

Sylus takes the mug. He sets it on a side table as she begins to lurch forward, drawing her into his arms.

He holds her tightly as she sobs, shattering apart once more.

At some point, her tears dry up, whether she wants them to or not. Sylus holds out a tissue, although she's not sure where he got the box.

“I got snot all over you,” are the first words out of her mouth.

Sylus snorts. “I know. That's what happens when you bottle things up, kitten.”

Kit closes her eyes tightly. “Not now,” she whispers. He hums a query, and she shakes her head. “I can't- not that one, Sylus.” She chokes up, unaware of the way his eyes widen at the first willing use of his name. “Cay- Caleb is the one who nicknamed me. When we were young. I told him I hated being called Camilla, and he told me that I reminded him more of a cat than a flower. He's the reason I started going by Kitty, and later…” she blew her nose, trying to fight off another wave of sobs. “And later, Kit. He called me Kitty-cat.”

A gentle hand grazes her cheekbone, brushing at the corner of her eye. She opens them to see Sylus’s expression. It's softer than she's ever seen it.

“Okay, sweetie,” he replies soothingly. “I won't use it.”

Kit leans into his touch, into the warmth of his palm, until he's cupping the side of her face. “Not forever,” she whispers. “I like it when you call me that. Just not right now.”

“He meant a lot to you,” Sylus says. It's a question as much as it is a statement, his hand staying in place where she needs it most. The point of contact feels grounding.

Kit nods. “My best friend, the Hunter who's recovering from the explosion, grew up with him like I did. The three of us were thick as thieves.” She laughs bitterly, staring out the attic window into the dark night.

“Everyone had their expectations, I suppose. They all expected Caleb and I would get together. Our feelings never really mattered, our families pushed us into it. His grandma and my father always seemed to have their heads together, as if they were planning our wedding.”

There's an odd flash of something on Sylus's face, something she can't quite discern. Still, he continues to listen. “Did you…have feelings, then?” He asks carefully.

She reaches over and takes the mug. It's lukewarm now, but she doesn't care. It gives her something to hold onto besides him.

“As I said,” Kit continues. “It never really mattered. Caleb and I were pushed together, like dolls in a dollhouse. We started dating in our first year of high school. It continued until…you know. When I was forced into this life.

I think Caleb knew that something was wrong, but by then we'd graduated, and our relationship began to crumble. My dad retired and fucked off on a trip round the globe, and without that constant parental pressure…” Kit sighs. “It was only right before he left for the academy that I realized I'd fallen in love with him somewhere along the way. I…never did learn if he felt the same way.”

“You can't be serious,” she'd said. Caleb sighs, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“I am. Sorry, Kitty-cat. I'll be staying at Grandma's until I leave for the academy. Her health’s declining, and Kiri has finals. Someone's got to watch over her.”

“But you don't want me there,” Kit says. She watches the line of his shoulders tense, his hand flexing against the leather handle.

Caleb doesn't look back. “No. I don't. I'll make up some excuse, tell her you're off doing important things.”

“Why?” She goes to move closer, wincing as her stitches pull. Her last job ended poorly, and she'd suffered quite the punishment as a result.

Thankfully, Caleb doesn't see her pain.

He sighs. “Because…she thinks that we're happy. It's her wish, you know. That you and I end up together.”

That hurts more than the cut on her side. “But you don't want us together. Is that it? Are you…” she hesitates, and pushes through. “Are you happy, Cay? With us?”

He reaches out for the door handle. “We'll talk about it when I get back.”

This time, she lunges forward, grabbing the back of his jacket. “When? When you get back from the Academy? Caleb!”

Finally, that gets a reaction out of him. He yanks away, and it sends her to the floor. Kit gasps sharply, black spots dancing across her vision.

Instantly, he whirls, crouching. Caleb’s expression is full of concern, torn between staying and going. “Shit, are you alright? I didn't mean- Camilla, I'm-” He reaches out, and she flinches. It's instinctual.

It's the first time she's ever seen him heartbroken.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers. “I'll leave.” Caleb rises to his feet.

“Caleb, wait-!” She reaches out, but the door’s already clicked shut behind him, and she hears his footsteps pounding down the outside stairs out of their apartment.

For a long time, she sits there. Her question rings over and over again in her head.

'“Are you happy, Caleb?”'

As the sun sets, the last beams of sunlight struggling through the blinds into the living room, Kit makes up her mind.

By the time night comes, all that remains in the apartment are memories left behind and a letter on his pillow, weighed down by a watch she'd intended to gift him for their anniversary, three days away.

Sylus's hands settle over hers on the mug, drawing her out of memories. “We all have regrets,” he says gently. “What's important is that you live on despite them.”

Kit frowns at that. “How cruel to say that to someone who's grieving.”

He squeezes her hands. “I'd rather be cruel than watch you waste away.” Sylus's tone is firm and reprimanding. “I know it hurts. Believe me, I know. But you have to eat. You have to drink. You have to take care of yourself, ki- sweetie. There are living people who care about you.” Sylus cups her face, making her look up at him. Their eyes meet.

Not for the first time, she feels her heart stutter at the intensity of his gaze, and a sharp pang of guilt accompanies it.

“If you can't find a reason to live without him,” he says, an odd bitterness to his voice, “then live because I forced you to. Make me the bad guy. Scream and fight against me, and hate me for it, as long as it gets you to keep going.”

“I could never hate you,” Kit whispers. Her lips tremble as she tries to hold back her tears. His expression is too open, too raw, as if he's showing her something she's not ready to see. She closes her eyes against it, pressing her face into his palms once more. “I just feel so guilty. Like the story of me and him has finished but someone ripped out pages, so I only got to read the very end.”

“Then write a new one with us,” Sylus replies. “That story’s ended, but it doesn't mean you have to. Don't let grief rot you. If he was anything good for you, he wouldn't have wanted that. And neither do I.”

“And neither do we!” The sound of the twins’ voices startles them both, and Kit looks over her shoulder over the edge of the loft. Luke and Kieran stand below, holding a tray of food. Steam rises up, and the accompanying smell makes her stomach growl loudly.

She blushes.

Sylus sighs exasperatedly. “This was supposed to be a private conversation,” he drawls.

“You were taking too long,” Luke throws back at him. “The food was going to get cold.” Kieran nods in agreement.

Kit and Sylus exchange glances, and he squeezes her cheeks until she squawks offendedly, batting his hands away. His eyes are warm, like melted cherry candy. “Come on, sweetie,” he says softly. “Let's eat.”

Kit looks at them all. Her Mischief and Mayhem, down below.

Sylus, her boss, who seems to always cut through her armor to reveal her tender heart.

She sighs in defeat.

“Alright. Let's eat.”