#now i kind of want to write a fic

[nyafyn]

“how did you get that scar of yours?”

the mercenary stiffens. not a visible thing, but not enough to escape leander’s eyes. “how did you?”

two can play that game.

“you know-” leander leans in conspiratorially. sets down his cup to prop a hand up his chin. look friendly enough, smile. he’s always good at easygoing smiles, and newcomers never suspect anything. “- you can tell me if i tell mine. and this will stay as a secret between us.”

[lucabyte]

monologue

[uc1wa]

jason todd who’s a little religious and says he wants to wait for marriage to fill you full with his cock and cum. jason todd whose tongue is lapping at your entrance and his fingers are circling your clit, reminding you that the bible doesn’t say anything about the inability to do this.

[frownyalfred]

Fic idea where Bruce gives Jason grief over his cigarette smoking (valid) and Jason tells him to fuck off and that he died (also valid) only for Bruce to challenge Jason to a spar which Bruce narrowly wins.

They’re both sitting there on the mats bleeding and breathing harshly, and sure enough, Jason reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cigarettes, offering one to Bruce mostly as a joke.

Bruce takes the cigarette. Jason stares at him, stunned, and lights his own. He hands the lighter over to Bruce and watches his dad burn through that cigarette with the ease and confidence of a lifetime smoker, and says absolutely nothing.

[nina-rosa]

(read from left to right →)

🌸 The negligible self 🌸 chapter 1, p.1 to 7

A comic based on a serirei (from mp100) fanfiction written by @homosexual-fanfiction (@/ch_am on Ao3)! Please go read the fanfic there too because it’s really good!!! T v T

I don’t know if I’ll adapt the whole story (even if I really want to!!!) so for now I’ll try to do as much as I can, starting with that first chapter (which is already entirely storyboarded)!

Thanks to Camp for allowing me to draw their story and for helping me while designing some of the settings and Aimi <333 and thank you again for writing such an awesome and inspiring story!!

You can find Camp here too: @ch-am

I hope you’ll enjoy this first bouquet of pages!!💐

Here’s the link to the fic!!

[smilesrobotlover]

The sun felt warm as it shone against Talon’s skin, making his eyes grow heavy as he and his carriage slowly moved across Hyrule field. He had just sold some Lon Lon milk in Castle town, and left early in the morning so he could get home as soon as possible. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t a morning person, so he was doing everything in his power to stay awake. The last thing he needed was to fall asleep and get robbed by bandits.

The field was quiet and peaceful, the world not yet awakening from the sun barely peeking over the horizon. The gentle clip-clop of his horse’s hooves against the ground was soothing, and Talon began to feel too relaxed, finally giving in to his desires of dozing off.

A distressed whinny caused him to jolt awake. He looked around, expecting to be attacked by bandits or monsters, but all he saw was a small horse running to him, whinnying frantically at Talon.

“Oh my, where’d you come from, little one?” He wondered out loud, stopping his carriage and hopping off. The horse was noticeably young, with a beautiful chestnut coat and cream colored hair. It was a mare from what Talon could see, and looking at her coat, she seemed awfully familiar to him. She stomped up to Talon and gently bit his hand, attempting to drag him.

“Woah woah woah!” Talon pulled back, giving the horse a weird look. “What do ya think you’re doin’ little one?”

The horse whinnied again and started to shuffle to an area, clearly trying to get Talon to follow. Talon didn’t have much choice but to follow; a horse only acted like this when something was wrong.

“Where’s your rider?” He muttered, following the horse reluctantly. He didn’t know what he was being led to specifically, but seeing the size of the filly with a saddle of all things made him worried for a young rider, possibly injured somewhere. Seeing that Talon was finally following her, the filly started to trot towards a cluster of trees, stopping at a patch of bushes where she began to stomp around, impatiently nibbling and nudging the leaves on the bushes. Talon let out a sigh when he reached the spot, looking around to see if anything was out of the ordinary, but there was nothing. Was this filly just lost and was panicking, hoping to get help? Talon had to admit she seemed to be a smart horse, but he didn’t understand why he was led to a patch of bushes.

“Are you lost, little one?” He asked, watching as the young mare nibbled on the bushes. She nudged the leaves away with her snout while snorting, and Talon was able to catch a glimpse of blonde hair. He gasped and got on his knees, moving the bushes out of the way to reveal a young, blonde-haired boy with green clothes that blended in with the plants surrounding him. He looked to be about the same age as his daughter Malon, barely eleven, and his face was pale and covered in sweat. He wheezed as he breathed and he had a pained expression on his face, and Talon lightly touched his head to feel a burning fever. He frowned and began to shake him gently, seeing if he would wake up. The boy groaned and reacted to his touch, his eyes fluttering open. They landed on Talon immediately and several emotions flickered through his face.

“M-Mr– Bart—ten…” He choked out, his eyes tearing up as he stared at Talon. The farmer blinked for a moment, confused about what he was saying, but he let out a sigh and went to gather the boy in his arms. The poor thing was clearly delirious, and he needed medical attention.

“It’s ok, kiddo, I’ll take care of you,” he assured. The boy felt fragile in his strong arms, and he whimpered in pain as his head rested against Talon’s chest. The farmer wasted no time finding a spot for the boy in his carriage, having to move some empty bottles out of the way and laying strands of hay to add a cushion for him. He gently laid him down, finding a quilt tucked away in the corner of the carriage and swaddled him the best he could. It didn’t look comfy, but it was better than nothing. He tucked the empty bottles away to make sure they didn’t fall on him, and he grabbed a spare rope to tie to the back.

“I hope you don’t mind this, I have a feeling that boy is your rider,” Talon explained, tying the rope to the filly. The young mare surprisingly seemed willing to be tied to the carriage, and waited patiently as Talon hopped on his carriage, resuming his journey with more haste. He tried to keep a steady pace so the carriage wouldn’t jostle, and so that the mare wouldn’t be dragged behind, but he knew he needed to move fast if he wanted to get back to the ranch. He fortunately had medicine stocked up at home, knowing that if he, Malon, or Ingo got sick, he wouldn’t have time to go back and forth getting more, so the boy should be fine when they got there. He just hoped it wouldn’t turn into anything serious—Talon was knowledgeable on illnesses and injuries, but he was no doctor.

The sun was beginning to set when Talon arrived at Lon Lon, and he hopped off the carriage in front of his house, untying the mare and collecting the feverish boy in his arms.

“Daddy!”

Talon glanced up to see his little girl running towards him, an excited smile on her face. Talon smiled back and shifted the boy in his arms slightly.

“You’re back! Did ya get me anything?”

“Why yes, I did,” Talon said, pulling the boy out of the carriage and showing Malon. “I got you a new friend, but he’s a little sick right now.”

Malon’s eyes went big and she stepped forward, gently patting the boy’s arm. “Fairy boy! It’s Fairy boy! Don’t you remember him daddy?”

Talon looked down at the boy again. He was so distracted on getting him into his carriage, he didn’t recognize him as the young boy that visited Lon Lon Ranch over a year ago. Memories of him and Malon playing music at the ranch flooded in, and Talon only felt more inclined to take care of him. The situation became more personal.

“Epona!” Malon squealed, giggling at the filly who trotted towards her excitedly. Talon stared at the two’s reunion, Epona nuzzling Malon’s chest while she sang her favorite song. He smiled warmly at them and quickly headed inside, not wanting to wait much longer. So this boy and that horse used to be here in Lon Lon? Goddesses, it had been a while since Talon’s seen him, and yet it felt like it was only yesterday. Though the fairy boy was in their lives for such a short time, he left an impact on the ranch, specifically with Malon. He was the first kid her age that she’s met and played with, and Malon talked her father’s ear off about him since he went away with Epona in tow. Talon began to grow curious about where he was all this time, and why he was hidden in bushes with a burning fever.

The farmer walked up the stairs that led to his room and he set the sick boy gently on the soft mattress. He stared at him for a moment, his brow furrowed, trying to remember anything else about the little one, but nothing came up, so he turned around to get medicine, water, and a damp cloth. The folks at Lon Lon didn’t get sick often, so he hoped he remembered enough about taking care of a fever. When he went back upstairs to his room, he heard the boy whimpering, shifting in the soft bed. Talon quickly took off his shoes to make him more comfortable and rested his hand on his head. The fever was concerningly strong.

“Excuse me,” Talon said softly, gently shaking the boy. He groaned and his eyes fluttered open again, staring over Talon’s shoulder. He squinted his eyes and frowned.

“Romani? … How…?”

Talon raised an eyebrow and looked behind him, flinching when his daughter suddenly appeared.

“Goddesses, Malon, don’t sneak up on me like that!” He scolded. Malon gave an apologetic look, her dimples appearing as she smiled slightly.

“Sorry, daddy. I just wanted to see Link! It’s been a while!”

Malon leaned over the fairy boy (or Link, Talon supposed), brushing his hair away from his face. Link looked horrified as he watched Malon, clearly looking uncomfortable.

“Malon, sweetie, let’s give him some space,” Talon spoke up, noting Link’s strange expressions. “I oughta give him some medicine anyhow.”

Malon hopped back and gave her father an excited look. “Can I help?”

“Oh! Well…” Talon glanced at the bowl of water and the cloth. “You can help wipe his face when I’m done givin’ him medicine, ok?”

Malon nodded excitedly, watching as Talon helped Link sit up. The boy was so weak that he could barely move on his own, and Talon eventually pulled him into his lap so he could lean against him. Talon gripped Link’s arm firmly so he could stay in place and began rummaging his hand all over the nightstand to grab the medicine. His daughter noticed his searching and grabbed the medicine for him and Talon gave her a grateful nod, uncorking the bottle and bringing it to Link’s lips.

“You think you can drink this?” He asked, and Link nodded, clumsily grabbing at the bottle and drinking it with Talon’s help. Talon had to pull it back a couple of times to make sure it didn’t spill everywhere, but Link was surprisingly cooperative for an eleven-year-old drinking the disgusting medicine; he remembered he always had to fight Malon whenever she needed it. The bottle was soon gone, and Link leaned back against Talon’s chest, his eyes closed. The farmer cradled him for a moment, figuring that Link needed that type of comfort, and Malon walked over as she watched him with her father, her head tilted with fascination.

“Is he gonna be ok?” Malon asked, and Talon looked up at her, nodding confidently.

“I’m sure he will be,” he said, carefully moving Link so he could get off the bed. He laid him down and pulled the blankets over him, giving his hair a soft ruffle before pulling away.

“I’m gonna put the carriage away, Malon. You keep an eye on him, ok?” Talon said, and his daughter nodded back at him. Talon lingered for a moment, worriedly watching them, but finally left the room. Ingo was outside staring at the carriage annoyed, but he quickly scurried away when Talon showed up. The farmer glanced over at Epona, who was watching him silently. Talon frowned and walked over to her, giving her a gentle pat on the snout.

“That boy doesn’t have a family, does he?” He asked, knowing that Epona wouldn’t answer. It was something Talon noticed when Link first arrived. Though he didn’t remember much, he did remember that Link was by himself whenever he saw him. The only company he had was his fairy. Talon shouldn’t be too surprised—if Link really was a Kokiri, then it’d make sense why he’d have no family. But Kokiris died when they left the woods, didn’t they? Or was Link finally experiencing the death a Kokiri had when they were out of the woods? Talon rubbed his eyes with a soft grumble. He really didn’t know if any of that was true, but it made Talon slightly worried. Despite remembering that Link was from the lost woods, Talon couldn’t help but feel that he was a Hylian. Everything down to his mannerisms made him seem far more mature than the Kokiri ever were. They remained as children, their bodies and mentalities never changing, even for centuries. But Link…. His face held a mature understanding of the world that Talon only saw in adults. Either way, Talon couldn’t risk him dying. If he needed to return to the woods, he would take him there, he just needed to learn more about him.

Talon led Epona and his carriage to the barn, letting her and the horses roam with the others before returning to the house with warm Lon Lon milk. He was expecting Link to be sound asleep, but to his surprise, he was already trying to get out of bed despite Malon’s protests.

“Link, honestly! You can’t be gettin’ up now! You could barely drink the medicine my daddy gave to you!” She shouted, trying to shove him back to bed.

“I… I’ll be fine,” he mumbled, his voice raspy and hoarse. He brushed Malon off and reached for his shoes, but grew out of breath.

“Link! You’re sick! Lay back down!”

“I can’t stay…”

Talon entered the room with haste, setting the bottle of milk down as he walked up to Link. The boy stared up at him, his light blue eyes wide with guilt.

“Do you need to go to the woods?” Talon asked him, and Link frowned.

“What?”

“The woods? The lost woods? Where all them youngins are in?”

“O-oh, Kokiri forest?”

“Yeah, that. I hear Kokiri die when they’re away from the forest for too long. You… you’re a Kokiri, right?”

A devastated look took over Link’s exhausted face, his eyes spacing out as he looked down. “No…”

Talon frowned at his reaction, and he glanced over at Malon who looked concerned.

“No?”

“I-I’m not going to the woods… I’m not a Kokiri… I don’t belong there anymore. I don’t–I don’t belong anywhere,” Link’s voice grew so quiet that Talon almost didn’t catch what he said at the end. It was quiet in the room, and Link slowly went to grab his shoes, but Talon stopped him.

“What’s the rush then?”

“I… can’t stay….”

“Why not?”

“Because I…. I…” Link stammered, trying to push out a good argument, but with his feverish mind and exhausted body, he couldn’t. Talon sighed and gently pushed him back, and Link obliged, laying down on the pillow, his eyes half closed.

“At least get some rest before you decide to travel, ok?”

Link’s eyes went wide for a second, before closing, and he was finally asleep. Talon sighed and gave his head a pat, giving a proud smile to Malon.

“You handled that well, dear.”

Malon brushed some hair out of her eyes and sighed. “Thanks daddy. He sure is a stubborn one, ain’t he?”

Talon shrugged and stared at the young boy. So he wasn’t a Kokiri, that meant he wasn’t dying, thank the goddesses. But everything else about Link confused him. If he seemingly didn’t belong to the Kokiri anymore, then where did he call home? Did he even have a home? Talon sighed and began to head out of the room.

“I trust you’ll keep a good eye on him?”

Malon nodded. “I won’t let him try to get up next time.”

Talon snorted. “Try not to hurt him too much. You got some Gerudo blood in you, while he’s a simple Hylian,” Talon glanced at Link, “I think. Give him that milk when he wakes up.”

Malon nodded again and plopped herself in a chair, staring at the strange boy in bed. Talon smiled at her, leaving the room once again, feeling exhausted himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Link’s fever was persistent. Talon spent a long time with him to see if he was getting better, but he was not. He wasn’t getting worse though, which Talon supposed was better than nothing. Link stayed in bed most of the time, unable to get out due to the fever and to Malon forcing him to rest. Talon always had to make sure she was gentle with him. He knew she had such a gentle and kind soul, but her Gerudo strength, despite having only a little bit of it, was not to be underestimated. Malon stayed by Link’s side the entire time, only leaving when she had chores to do. She would talk the boy’s ear off when she was with him; talking to him about her chores, her favorite animals, and the songs she wrote. She would occasionally sing to him, and he would always listen. Talon couldn’t tell if he wanted to listen, but considering the small smile on his lips whenever his daughter spoke to him, he assumed that he enjoyed the company. Many times, Talon decided to do Malon’s chores for her so she could spend time with her friend, and eventually, Link started to feel better.

Talon allowed him to walk around the ranch, knowing that being in the same room for days couldn’t feel good for anyone, and Link happily obliged. He always seemed anxious, as if there was something he had to be doing, so being able to at least walk around made him a little more cheery than normal. But as soon as he was able to walk around, he once again tried to leave.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” Talon asked when he caught Link packing up his things, trying to talk him out of it before he was gone. Link didn’t say anything for a moment, a guilty look on his face.

“I–I need to be elsewhere,” he finally said, finishing packing up his few items scattered across the room.

“Already? I know you’re feelin’ better, and exercise is good for you, but you can’t push yourself.”

Link let out a huff. “I’ll be fine. This fever will go away in due time.”

“Yeah, if you take care of yourself,” Talon argued, and Link shot a glare at him.

“Why do you care?” He suddenly snapped. Talon’s eyes widened at the boy’s sudden hostility. He scratched the back of his head and looked away.

“Is it so wrong for me to care about a sick kid?”

Link’s expression softened and he turned away. “How much do you remember?” He asked softly.

“Huh?”

“How much–how much do you remember of me?”

Talon was taken aback at the strange question. Though he’s only seen Link a couple of times last year, he remembered them pretty well now that he spent more time with the kid.

“I remember you woke me up with a cuccoo and told me my daughter was waitin’ for me. Good thing too ‘cause I didn’t mean to fall asleep at the castle of all places. Poor Malon.” Link stayed still as stone so Talon continued, “I remember you came by our ranch and found my special cuccoo. I teased you about marryin’ my daughter and you got all shy ‘bout it.” Talon chuckled at the memory. Link looked away with an embarrassed look on his face so Talon moved onto the next memory. “I remember you and Malon played all day, and played music as loud as you two could. It sorta annoyed me when I was tryin’ to sleep but I ain’t never seen Malon sing with all her heart like that before. So I let it continue.” Talon sighed and racked everything he remembered about Link, but only one more memory remained. “And then I remember you buyin’ Epona. It broke Malon’s heart to part with that horse but she cared about you and knew you would take great care of her. And that’s about all I remember of you.”

Link continued to face away from Talon, staring blankly at the wall. Talon frowned and walked up to him.

“Why are you askin’ this?”

Link sighed and hugged himself. “You just don’t know me like you used to.”

Talon was taken aback again. “Now what in Farore’s name do you mean by that?”

Link opened his mouth but was interrupted by Malon entering the room. She spotted Link’s packed up possessions and frowned.

“You’re leaving already?” She asked as he quickly finished gathering his things. “Are you sure you feel well enough for it?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said softly, looking up at Talon with another guilty expression. “I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

Talon tilted his head. “You didn’t overstay nothin’ boy. It was my pleasure to have you here.”

Link smiled slightly, but he quickly turned away, a sad and distant look in his eye. Talon stroked his chin and squinted at him.

“Where do you call home?”

Link glanced at Talon, then at the floor. “I—um…”

“Do you… have a home?”

Link didn’t react, and he shifted uncomfortably. Talon sighed.

“Oh… Link, if you have nowhere else to go, you can always stay here—“

“No! I-I mean,” Link shrunk away, clutching onto his shirt. “You-you guys have been very kind but I–I don’t want to be a bother anymore.”

“You were anything but a bother! We loved havin’ you here!” Talon reassured, but Link didn’t look convinced

“I-I can’t stay here for free… I—I don’t—“ Link whimpered slightly, pressing himself further against the wall. Talon backed up slightly, realizing he was being too forceful with the boy. He took a deep breath and tried again.

“Ok, if you don’t wanna stay for free, then you don’t have to,” he said softly.

Link finally looked at him, a sad look on his face. “I don’t have any rupees though.”

“Who said anythin’ about money! How old are ya? Eleven? I can't expect an eleven-year-old to be able to pay rent!”

Link stared at him confused. “Then how…?”

“Well, I can always have ya work around the farm, do whatever chores you’re capable of doin’, in return you get a place to stay and food to eat.”

Link stared for a moment, the gears in his mind turning as he thought about Talon’s offer.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Sorry to put pressure on you,” Talon quickly added, realizing he was still being forceful. “But if you want, we’d love to have you.”

Link was silent for a long time, swaying slightly as Talon and Malon watched him. He finally let out a sigh and looked up at Talon.

“Can I…. Think about it?”

Talon was relieved slightly and nodded. “Of course you can, just know that wherever you go, you’ll always have a place to stay in Lon Lon Ranch.”

Link gave a more genuine smile at him.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Talon escorted Link to the entrance with Malon in tow, the two Lon’s chatting about mundane things with Link listening silently. When they reached the entrance, Talon turned to his daughter and nodded.

“Malon, could you get his horse for him?”

“Of course, daddy!”

Talon watched as his daughter ran to where the horses were, then he glanced at Link who still had an unsure look on his face.

“Link?”

Link pursed his lips. “I… I wish there was a way I could repay you for this…”

“Oh, it was on the house,” Talon said, waving his hand. “It’s the least I could do for you.”

Link smiled, his hands clumped up on his chest. “You don’t know how much this means to me… I… thank you…”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure. And my offer will always be here for you, or… if you ever wanna visit,” Talon shrugged, “you’re free to visit as well if you don’t wanna stay.”

Link’s face twisted slightly, and he shyly leaned into Talon, which surprised him. He was always so distant from the others, but he was almost hugging the old farmer. Talon wrapped his arms around him and rubbed his back gently, only pulling away when Malon returned with Epona. Link quickly hopped on the horse, discreetly wiped his eye, and he gave the two a nod.

“I guess I’ll… see you around?” He said, and Talon nodded.

“Of course, you be safe out there boy!” Talon said, waving him goodbye.

“Yeah! Come visit! I want to sing with you again!” Malon exclaimed, waving enthusiastically at him. Link grinned at her and nodded at the two. Then he clicked his tongue and ran off on his horse, heading to Din knows where. Talon watched sadly as he disappeared into the field, almost wishing there was more he could do for him. It was strange how much the boy had changed since he first met him. Link was a very playful and hyper boy when they first met him, matching Malon’s hyper energy. But now, he was jaded and serious, almost as if he was an adult trapped in a child’s body. Talon didn’t want to think about what he went through in the past year to get to that point, but he hoped that now Link knew that he didn’t have to face any of it alone, and that he had people to turn to.

He just had to wait for him to reach out.

[myokk]

✨MASTERLIST✨

(fanart, longfics, oneshots)

Welcome to my blog!!! Here is my masterlist of ALL of my little sketches, artwork, writing, and general brainrot related to Hogwarts Legacy💘

🌿 - Madeleine / Maddy / myokk

🌱 - AO3

🌿 - likes and follows come from my main blog, @oerflink, because this is a sideblog (🥲)

🌱 - Eloise Babbit, my MC and basically the whole reason for this blog🫶 I don’t necessarily view her as the game’s MC, as my fic is quite canon-divergent and she is sweeter than the evil gremlin I played in-game😆💓 [link to her character sheet]

🌿 - my art tag🫶🫶🫶 here you can see basically every drawing I've done since joining the fandom!

Writing:

Before It Felt Like A Sin (AO3 / tumblr - ongoing)

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC, canon divergent, longfic, wip, dual pov Eloise/Sebastian

Summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

Tags: slow burn, angst, magical theory, mythology references, pureblood culture, occlumency, legilimency, hurt/comfort, family dynamics, eventual romance, eventual smut, sacrificial magic, blood magic, dark magic rituals, implied/referenced child abuse

[coming soon] - an excerpt from the Ominis longfic I’m working on💘

Oneshots:

clumsy (AO3 / tumblr)

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 9,1k

rating: E

summary: sebastian is clumsy.

or: two stubborn brats make things more difficult than they have to be.

cw: fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, two really stubborn idiots in love to be exact, sir cadogan guest appearance, anne and imelda are the gremlin best friends every girl needs, smut (18+ ONLY), oral (f. recieving), no y/n

legilimency (AO3 / tumblr)

pairing: Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

word count: 1,7k

rating: m (language)

summary: (His parents and Marvolo insist it’s a gift handed down from Slytherin himself, just like the Parseltongue Ominis despises. It is not. It is a curse.)

or: The Gryffindor student has caught on that Ominis can read her thoughts and decides to get her revenge.

tags: ominis is a natural legilimens, he is entirely too introspective, fluff, no y/n

remembering the snow (AO3 / tumblr)

pairing: Imelda Reyes x Poppy Sweeting

word count: 3,3k

rating: G

summary: Imelda remembers the first time she saw snow.

Her parents always started the story telling her that she cried and cried and cried.

or: a character study on Imelda and how she grew up because I love her & she doesn't get enough appreciation :)

tags: character study, fluff, romance, first kiss, emotional hurt/comfort, I just wanted to write a sweet story & explore Imelda as a character

Illustrated scenes:

(aka where I illustrate little scenes from my longfic and oneshots💓)

🌿 - the summer before Sebastian and Anne’s first year at Hogwarts🥺💓

🌱 - Sebastian hates Eloise’s guts😳

🌿 - Eloise is really, really bad at chess😔 (this scene always makes me laugh SO MUCH)

🌱 - right after the pensieve scene🫶🫶🫶

🌿 - Eloise and Sebastian’s first kiss😇😇😇

🌱 - some angst after their first kiss😇😇😇

🌿 - sebastian overthinks things a lot😔

🌱 - an excerpt from my oneshot, clumsy💘

🌿 - another scene from my clumsy 🫶 I really love writing Sebastian’s pov & this was just so much fun to paint and write😫💓

🌱 - Eloise and her mother😔

🌿 - Eloise is NOT flustered by Sebastian😤

[torvagatai]

If anyone needs a new reason to cry over these two today, just remember that the modern-era Will of the TV adaptation took this photo of the Tower of the Angels on the day he and Lyra first met. Meaning that he’s got a photo of Lyra that he probably doesn’t even remember taking, and on some uneventful, monotonous day when he’s back home and absently flicking through his phone he’ll find it. He was in a rush to catch up with her, he remembers, so it’s not a very good photo - a little blurred, taken at an odd angle. Lyra’s not even the focus of the picture; she’s turned away from him, her face completely hidden, Pan almost cut out of the frame entirely. But it’s unmistakably her.

The first time he stumbles across it, Will can hardly bear to look at it. But he keeps the photo always, makes multiple digital and physical copies just in case. Sometimes it hurts to look at. Sometimes it brings him comfort. He takes a copy to Mary Malone and she tacks it up on her laboratory wall. On one of the less painful days he shows it to his mother and laughs as he tells her the story of how she attacked him when they first met.

And on more than one Midsummer’s Day he takes it with him to the Botanic Garden.

[numnue]

hc that andrew is really good at jeopardy and whenever it's just him and neil sitting in the dorm living room - and eventually their own living room later on - he'll just sit and answer each one word-for-word while neil watches, amazed

maybe neil is also super good (idk man i just think he holds on to useless info since he'll never know when he might need it) and they compete to see who can get the most points between the two

whenever neil beats andrew he just gives him the most smug smirk that andrew has to kiss off his face (and it has nothing to do with the fact that the smirk maybe makes andrews knees weak and ears hot, and maybe he lets him win sometimes just to see the easy confidence that neil takes on, maybe)

and one day the foxes are there to witness the back-and-forth between them and they're like "you guys should go on the show" and i just know that andrew would think that winning jeopardy would be the funniest thing ever and neil would like that it showed his new freedom in that he could go on live tv with no risk.

so they apply and get on the show (idk how that works) and immediately act like they don't know each other, they're just contestants to each other. and quickly they start trash-talking each other, i mean come on, and the host probably mentions that they're both professional exy players and have been on teams together in the past, so they probably trash talk each other about that even more

and it gets to the point where the old (or maybe new idk) minyard-josten rivalry hashtag starts trending again and at this point they're not publicly out so everybody believes they just really hate each other

anyways, andrew eventually wins (IM SRY BUT I JUST THINK HE'D BE BETTER BECAUSE OF HIS MEMORY) and they ask what he's going to do with the prize money and he turns to neil and is like "i'll probably take my husband on vacation, but i wouldn't know where he'd want to go" and neil smiles at him and is like "anywhere is fine as long as i'm with you" and thats how they come out to the public

"minyard-josten marriage?!" trends for a month after that

[stunie]

it’s so easy to forget that you can literally write whatever you want

[sentientcave]

Dogs Will Hunt (Slasher AU)

Honey It's Alright - Part 1

Read on AO3

Dark Fic! Please mind the warnings

Contains: Stalking, Allusion to past kidnapping, Canon-typical violence, Canon-atypical violence, dub con touching, implied dub con/non con, threats of death and violence, just general bad vibes, playing with my OCs like dolls and putting them in situations. Morgan is from Sparrow, and Kitty is from Wildflowers and Honey. This is not canon to their stories at all.

~7,500 words - MDNI

For the first time in ages, Morgan let herself relax, sitting at the kitchen table, slotting the pieces of her rifle back together, the comforting smell of gun grease heavy in the humid summer air. The windows were open to the night, and there was nothing but crickets out there, a shrill chorus in the background, the occasional chirping frog or whistling bird joining the twilight chorus.

She'd given John the slip-- If he was going to find her he would have by now. It had been months since she escaped his cellar (she'd been down there for weeks because of bad behaviour, and he'd gone hunting, leaving her alone with Soap and an opportunity), she'd dug the tracker out of her skin in Greece, zig-zagged across the continent leaving clues for him to chase down, and then stowed away on a shipping container headed to the states. She'd walked most of the way from the coast to her little house in Montana, where an identity totally removed from her old life waited for her. She was lucky she'd set that up as a fail-safe years ago. She only had three identities that maintained themselves so neatly, and Sarah and Blaire were both a little to close to John's house in Northern England to be comfortable. So she was Rebecca Carter now.

And it was nice. So much like home, and no one looked at her weird for carrying a rifle in the backseat of her truck. She found work when she got tired of pacing the cabin with nothing to do, helping repair a neighbour's tractor, and then a few cars, until everyone in town knew she was pretty handy with anything with an engine. It made her nervous, being so known, but there was nothing for it in a small town. Would’ve been more notable if she never spoke to anyone.

The crunch of gravel coming up the long lonely track that ended at her cabin set her heart hammering, the moment of relaxation gone, but she tried to calm herself down again when she peeked out the window, rifle at the ready, and saw that it was just Kitty driving up in her beat up silver Buick.

"Hey, Kit," she called out, stepping onto the porch, hiding her anxiety behind a big smile. "Car trouble?" The car was making a very unhappy grinding sound that stopped when the car did, although the engine still didn’t sound too healthy. Poor Kitty was running patch to patch with that stupid car, but Morgan was happy to help her out. Kitty was the sort of girl that had sorely needed a friend, and she’d attached herself to Morgan pretty quickly, despite her efforts to stay aloof.

She was too soft. Friends were liabilities these days, nothing but trouble. Another avenue for John to find her, if he was even still looking. He’d probably given up when the trail went cold. Even a bloodhound like him couldn’t search forever.

"Yeah! Could you take a look?" Kitty cut the engine and popped the hood, an apologetic look on her face as she climbed out of the driver's seat. "Sorry it's so late, I just got off my shift."

"Hey, no sweat honey. You know I'm never up to all that much."

Kitty was a pretty little thing, a hand-span shorter than Morgan, small boned like a bird, all soft curves and wide doe-like eyes peering out of her round face. Full of anxious energy most of the time, and especially now, nerves stretched thin after a long shift of avoiding grasping hands and smiling wide through it all. She bounced on her toes as Morgan leaned over the engine, watching. "Yeah. Owen said he asked you out. Why'd you say no?"

"Don't like him that much," Morgan said, shrugging. "Had my fill of men."

Kitty bit her lip, folding her hands behind her back. "Forever?" she asked.

Morgan braced her arms on the car, looking over. "Why do I feel like there's an ask attached to that question?"

"Well. Mason asked me out. He's got a friend workin' at the depot, Jack— I actually don’t know his last name— and he'd like to turn it into a double date. Think he knows I won't be so twitchy if you're there with me."

"When's this?"

"Tomorrow night, if you're free. Figured you would be, so I already said yes, but I can ask Mason not to bring his buddy if you can't. No pressure. Lord knows I owe you plenty already, can't ask for a favour."

"You don't owe me shit, Kitty. We're friends."

“Don’t have a lot of friends who do as much for me as you do,” Kitty said, her expression turning sheepish. “You really don’t have to say yes. Just figured you might want to get out, meet somebody. It’s not good for a person to spend as much time alone as you do.”

“Already know everyone I’d like to. But I’ll come along, if you want me too. Promise to be nice and everything.”

Kitty laughed. “Everyone knows your bark is worse than your bite by now, Beck. It’ll be fun. Maybe Jack’ll turn out to be the one. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Morgan grunted noncommittally. “Probably won’t be. Think it’s one of the wheel bearings. Is the car shaking when you drive?”

Kitty nodded. “Yeah. Is that bad?”

“Well it’s not good. Let me get underneath and check it out. The jack’s in my truck.” Morgan went inside to grab her keys and came back out, frowning. Kitty had already opened up the back door of the truck for her.

“Looks like you left it open,” she said. “I don’t even know why you bother to lock it, all the way out here.”

“I’m not keen on the idea of someone getting into my shit.” Morgan gently moved Kitty to the side and leaned in to grab the box of emergency supplies from under the back seat, her nose wrinkling. The cab smelled wrong, like tobacco smoke and cedar— Like John.

Dread settled into her stomach like lead. He’d found her. He’d been in her truck, probably been in her house— She dropped the box back in and scanned the trees surrounding the cabin, hunting for anything out of the ordinary.

“What’s the matter?” Kitty asked. “You’re all pale.”

“My ex has been here. He’s a sick fuck, Kit. I need to get out of town.” She looked at Kitty, the lead in her belly turning molten, hot with guilt and anger. What if she’d put Kitty in danger too? It was a mistake to have friends. A mistake to think John wouldn’t track her down. She should have kept moving, shouldn’t have let her guard down, should have just turned around somewhere and waited for him to catch up and killed him.

Her stomach churned. What if he’d been following her the whole time? What if he’d been in town as long as she had? “Kit, did you meet that Jack guy? He ever been to the diner?”

Kit nodded, her eyes wide as saucers. “Y-yeah, he’s a regular. Beck, you’re really freaking me out.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Um. Big. Handsome. Blue eyes, beard, a smile that’s all in his eyes. Um. He’s got a mole, or a freckle on his nose. He’s really nice though, Beck, he always tips well, and he’s never pawed at me.” Kitty scrubbed her hands on the polyester skirt of her uniform nervously. “And he’s been here almost as long as you have. And he’s English,” she added, as if that made it impossible for him to be John, rather than the nail in Morgan’s proverbial coffin.

Morgan swallowed acid. He’d been here for months, watching her let her guard down slowly, laughing at her, watching her get close to Kitty. “Fuck. That’s him.” Morgan grabbed Kitty’s hand and pulled her into the house. She locked the front door and closed the kitchen window. “Stay here a sec. I have to sweep the house.”

“Sweep?” Kitty asked blankly. “But…” She trailed off when she saw Morgan pick up the rifle. “Oh.”

Morgan checked all the rooms quickly, closing windows as she went, hunting for any sign of John. He wasn’t there, thank fucking god. She returned to the kitchen. “Kit, I’m leaving town tonight. I think you should come with me. If John’s been here this long, he might hurt you to get back at me. I don’t want that to happen.” She cupped Kitty’s face, hands trembling. “He’ll know how much I care about you.”

Kitty’s breath hitched, big brown eyes flicking between Morgan’s, like she was hunting for a sign it was a joke, or a lie. “You want me to come with you?”

“Please. I can’t let him hurt you, Kit. I’m going to pack a bag. You think about it. I can’t promise that you’ll be safer with me, but I can promise I’ll do everything I can to keep you alive.”

Kitty swallowed. “I’ll come with you,” she whispered. “Can— Can I get my things?”

“Yeah. Hopefully he thinks we’re still gonna show up for that date. Which’ll give us a good head start. We’ll drop by your apartment on the way out of town.” Morgan marched back to her room, Kitty close on her heels, and threw things into a bag, prioritizing dark, basic clothes and essentials. She pulled her shoulder harness on over her t-shirt and took her pistols from their hiding spots, checking both for tampering before sliding them into the holsters under her arms. She threw an oversized denim jacket on over top and zipped up the bag. “Let’s go.”

Kitty shook from nerves, but held herself together admirably, following Morgan out to the truck and sitting in the passenger seat as Morgan rifled through everything, searching for the tracker John had most certainly planted in the vehicle. Probably in anticipation of her fleeing their “date” the next day.

She found two, one tucked into the curling pages of the manual in the glovebox, and a magnetic one stuck under the back bumper. She stuck that one to Kitty’s car, and tossed the other one underneath it. Then she hopped into the driver’s seat and drove away from the place that had been home for months now, her heart twisting viciously in her chest.

In an instant, Becca became a stranger.

Beck was unshakable, cool and calm, detached. And then she wasn’t.

That someone could frighten her this much… It terrified Kitty. Made her sick to think that a favourite regular— a friend— was someone that would hurt Beck— That would hurt her to get at Beck. That she’d been smiling at him all this time, won over by the accent and the charm, the genuine interest in her sad little life. Those sincere blue eyes. He’d seemed so nice.

She held onto the corner of Becca’s jacket as she checked for intruders in Kitty’s apartment, and then packed a bag as quickly as she could, following Beck’s directions to pack practical clothes, to keep things light. That was easy. There wasn’t all that much in the place she cared about. The only sentimental items she took were the little photo album from her childhood and her jewellery box. She could sell things, if they needed the money. She wasn’t really sure what life on the run would entail. Wasn’t sure if she was up for it.

But she’d try. Better to try, and stay close to Beck. She’d said she’d protect her, and Kitty believed it.

They didn’t say much until they hit the highway, lights from the cars on the other side of the grass median zipping past, illuminating Becca’s face in flashes. She looked grim, serious as a soldier, determined. It was almost a surprise to hear her speak after so long.

“I’m sorry this happened, Kitty. I should have known to stay away from you. I was selfish, and I put you in danger.”

“Selfish?” Kitty echoed, guilt pooling in her guts. “You’re the furthest thing from selfish! Always doin’ things for other folks— Doin’ things for me that no one else would. You’ve been a better friend than anyone in that whole rotten town.”

“You just lost everything because of me,” Becca said.

“I’d do it again!” Kitty declared. She felt bold, unmoored, nothing to lose anymore. “I’d rather have you than anything I left behind.”

Becca’s hand curled around hers, resting on her leg. Kitty’s heart skipped several beats. “I just hope I haven’t made things worse for you. I won’t let him hurt you, I swear. But if— If I ever tell you to run, I want you to run, and don’t look back. If he catches me— Well. It won’t be good. I don’t know what he’ll do to me. I don’t want him to do it to you.”

Kitty swallowed hard. “Who— Who is he?”

“John Price. He’s a killer. We met at a bar near my hometown about two years ago. Northern Ontario. He was nice enough. Handsome, charming. Drugged me. Woke up in the middle of the woods, just me and him. Said he’d give me a half hour head start. He likes the chase. Likes to hunt.” Her face twisted with anger at the memory, but her voice was nearly robotic as she recounted it, as thought she’d locked away all the emotion to keep it from overwhelming her. “I got away. Was more familiar with the area, better than he thought I’d be at running and navigating through the woods. My parents used to have me run— Well, it doesn’t matter. It took me a week to get home. Had to hunt with my boot knife if I wanted to eat, couldn’t stop for long anywhere. It was exhausting. I guess he thought so too, because he gave up the chase, and ambushed me at home. Wasn’t careful enough. I’m usually so cautious, but I was too tired.”

Kitty squeezed her hand lightly. “I’m sorry, Beck.”

“It’s Morgan.”

“Huh?”

“Morgan’s my actual name. Figure you should know it.”

“Oh.” That stood to reason, didn’t it? She wouldn’t have been using her real name if she was hiding out. “What— What did he do to you?”

“Well, he didn’t kill me. I guess he decided I was worth keeping. That I was more fun alive than dead. He took me home with him. Decided he wanted to play house. It was play along or get locked in the cellar for days or weeks. Sometimes he wouldn’t turn the lights on and I’d just have to sit there in the dark, all alone until he came for me. It could have been worse more often, but it was usually the cellar. He didn’t want to hurt me, he wanted to break me.”

Kitty swallowed nervously. "He sounds awful. I can't believe he sat in my diner and acted so normal when he's… like that."

"Well that's the thing about John. When he's getting his way? He's downright pleasant. Didn't get nasty until I tried to run, or broke the rules, or failed a task on purpose. If I played housewife right he was… loving, almost. Some bastardized version of that. Indulgent. It was fucked up." Beck-- No, Morgan's other hand gripped the steering wheel tight. "I hate him. I've tried to kill him a hundred times by now. He just keeps beating me."

She sounded so defeated. Angry and scared. It felt so strange to see her scared, when she was usually so together, so much stronger than anyone else Kitty knew.

They didn't stop until dawn, to fill the truck with fuel and for Morgan to get a shit gas station coffee. Kitty had fallen asleep at some point. Morgan hadn't let her drive when she’d offered, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks, not just one night. The dark circles under her eyes were purple and puffy, but she shook her head again when Kitty offered to drive.

"I can go a little while longer. You get some more sleep."

"B-- Morgan. You've been driving all night. Let me help. You'll want to be sharp if he catches up to us." Kitty reached out and gently tugged the keys out of Morgan's hand. "We'll be better off if we take care of each other. It's not all on you."

Morgan relented. "Yeah. You wake me up if you see anything concerning. Stay on major roads, but just drive anywhere. If he’s following, we can lose him in the mountains for a day or two.” She sighed and leaned back in the seat while Kitty adjusted the one on the driver's side. "I'm sorry, Kit. This is so fucked."

"It's okay." Kitty steered the truck back onto the highway. "Not your fault."

"Yeah it is," Morgan grumbled, closing her eyes. "Maybe I shoulda stayed and fought. I don't know. Just hate that I've ruined your life."

“Didn’t have much of one to ruin. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Morgan turned toward the window with a sigh, cushioning her head from the glass with the palm of her hand.

In the silence, Kitty had nothing to do but think. About how little she really knew about Morgan, about how much she had misjudged Jack— Or John, really. She felt pretty stupid for thinking— for saying anything about her to him. Mistakes on mistakes.

She still trusted Morgan. She’d tried to be distant at the beginning of their friendship, tried to keep Kitty away. But Kitty had been so eager to make a new friend that she’d ignored all those attempts at deflection and inserted herself into Morgan’s life anyway. When she’d said that Kitty didn’t want shit to do with her, this was what she meant.

They spent three days like that. Morgan seemed to have no problem driving twenty hours straight, and wouldn’t let Kitty drive for more than four hours at a time. She was tense, wound tight, jumpy every time they had to stop for gas. She relaxed just a hair on the fourth night, and started driving more purposefully, taking them North through the mountains. She seemed to know exactly where they were, even though it was all windy mountain roads and forests, broken up by the occasional late.

Morgan cursed when they came to a road closure, forced to go around and detour from her planned route, but it didn’t really seem to slow her down any. They stopped at a gas station in some tiny mountain town early in the morning. Kitty was surprised to see Canadian flags flying from some of the houses they passed. Had they gone over a border while she was sleeping? Morgan parked off to the side so they could use the washroom and buy a handful of snacks and a map in case there were any more holdups.

Morgan stopped short, eyes turning sharp. A car had parked beside the truck, clearly too close for her comfort.

Kitty eyed the two men warily as they stood outside their car, smoking. She’d have to squeeze past the bigger fellow to get into the passenger seat again. Morgan spotted that too, and flashed them big smiles. “Any chance you boys are locals?” she asked, voice pitched higher, the slightest southern drawl colouring her voice. How did she become someone else so easily? “We got a bit turned around with that road closure, was wondering if you knew any shortcuts to Vancouver.” She unfolded the map on the hood of their car without waiting for an answer. Predictably, both of the men stepped in close on either side of her, not so subtly checking out her ass.

“Not locals, m’afraid,” the big one said. “But funny enough, that’s where we’re ‘eaded too.”

“Real tricky findin’ places to stop through here.” The other one was big too, but not as big, a baseball cap with the union jack set tilted back on his head and a wide, bright white smile on his face. He leaned on the hood of their car, his fingertips a little too close to Morgan’s hand. “Nearly went through all our cigs. Wouldn’t’ve been pretty’f we ran out before we got here. Si’s a real bear without his nicotine.”

Kitty took the opportunity to slip past to the passenger door, trying to calm her nerves. Just because they were English didn’t mean they had anything to do with John. Morgan folded her map back up, still smiling.

“Thought y’wanted ‘elp gettin’ there,” Si said, tilting his head to the side.

Morgan just tapped her now folded map against his chest playfully. “If you’re not locals, you’re not gonna know any shortcuts are you? You’ll just get me lost!”

“Might be fun, gettin’ a bit lost with us,” baseball hat said. Kitty didn’t much like the edge to his smile. But maybe she was just imagining it.

Morgan laughed. “You ever been lost in the mountains before, sugar? Wouldn’t recommend it. Ain’t that many roads that go anywhere worth goin’.” She bounced back a step, and kicked at loose bit of gravel. “But maybe we’ll see you in the city. We’re headed to the beach. Water’ll be cold, but it’s supposed to be pretty nice. Bet you’d both look pretty good with your shirts off.” She winked at baseball hat and gave them a little wave before circling back around to the drivers side and starting up the truck.

She peeled out of the parking lot, her smile falling away. “Pretty sure those are John’s boys. They’re not gonna be happy when they realize I dropped spikes in front of their tires.”

Kitty blinked. “You— Is that what you were doing?”

“That, and making sure the big guy didn’t grab you or slip a tracker on you. Once we get some distance out, I’ll have to re-check the outside of the truck too.”

Kitty let out a shaky breath. “How do you live like this?” she asked. “How do you know what to do, what to check?”

Morgan shrugged. “You get used to it.”

Kitty wasn’t sure how someone ever could.

After that, Morgan turned grim again, pushing to cover ground fast. The brush with those men had scared her too. She’d been driving all night, but she didn’t stop until the mountains were a ways behind them, and the countryside had turned flat, fields on either side of them filled with waving grasses and the occasional farm. Kitty insisted on taking over at their next stop. Morgan looked wrecked, the days of driving and poor sleep catching up with her. Kitty didn’t feel much better, but at least she’d gotten more rest.

"Where are we going?" she asked once they were on their way again.

"I know a place we can get a plane. Then I figure South America? Lots of places to disappear there." Morgan yawned, glancing in the mirror surreptitiously, as though she expected to see danger right on their tail. “Basically just drive straight down this highway. Not a lot of alternative routes around here. Wake me up in three hours, that’s about when we need to make a couple turns.”

Traffic slowed down to a crawl after two, so she tapped Morgan’s shoulder gently. “Sorry,” she said quietly. “I think the road’s closed up ahead.”

“Shit. No getting around it.” Morgan turned on the radio and flicked through stations until she found one that came in clear. “They’ll give a traffic update in a bit,” she said, blinking sleep out of her eyes. She came around fast, like she was used to waking up and moving quick. “We still inching forward every few minutes?”

Kitty nodded.

“They’ve prob’ly cleared a lane, be feeding folks through one side at a time. S’gonna suck, probably add three or four hours to the drive.”

“It’ll give you more time to sleep,” Kitty said.

They waited for the traffic report, grimacing at the details of it. Truck driver asleep at the wheel, veered into oncoming traffic and took out three cars. Only the truck driver and his passenger survived.

“Fuck, that’s a mess,” Morgan said grimly. “They need to regulate the industry better. That shit happens too often. Lots of drivers shouldn’t have a license, and the whole industry is overworked and pushed to get deliveries done in too short a time. S’fucked.”

Diplomatically, Kitty didn’t mention the fact that Morgan had been driving for sixteen hours straight herself. “There’s really no way around?”

“Might be, but that map I bought ended a good eighty kilometres ago. We’d better stay on this road or I’ll get us lost.” Morgan sighed. “We’re gonna lose our head start at this rate.”

“Already? He doesn’t know where we’re going, does he?”

“Doubt it. But I have to act like he’s right on my tail, because he usually is.” Morgan leaned her head back against the headrest with a sigh. “Let me get another hour of sleep, keep checking your mirrors, looking around. You see anything the slightest bit funny, wake me up again.”

Kitty nodded. “I will. Get some rest, Morgan.”

“What the fuck do you mean you rented out my plane?” Morgan snarled, resisting the urge to strangle the airfield manager, but only barely.

The portly, balding man with the name tag that said Tim Kent held his clipboard up defensively. “Look, we haven’t heard anything from you in over two years—”

“You still getting paid?”

“Well, y-yes,” Tim said nervously.

“Then why the fuck would you think that anything had changed?”

“Well, I— I um—”

“Forget it,” she snapped, holding up a hand. It was greed, and thinking he could get away with double dipping. She didn’t need him to say it. “When’s it back?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he said. “We’ll have it ready for you as soon as it comes back. There’s a motel, just down the highway— I know the owner, can get him to comp you a room, Ms. Winters.”

If it were just her, she'd sleep in the truck, with the doors locked and the keys in the ignition, ready to drive off at a moments notice. But Kitty-- Kitty needed a moment to collect herself, needed to shower, and sleep in a bed, and regroup. If Morgan had to sleep on the floor in front of the door with her rifle in her lap to make that happen, so be it.

"Yeah. Alright." It was against every instinct for survival she had. She knew that John wasn't far behind, if his boys had been that close. If they even were his boys. Maybe she'd fucked up the day of some totally innocent Brits on holiday.

It didn't matter. She'd just kill John if she saw him. Get it over with. No more fucking around. She couldn’t run forever. Kitty certainly couldn’t. It hadn’t even been a week, and Kitty was already nervous and stressed, on the verge of tears since their run in with the boys at the gas station. Morgan had been living like this periodically even before John.

She got the information for the motel, and about the two women who had rented the plane (two American women, which was a relief. Nothing to do with John, just an unfortunate coincidence), and headed back to the truck. Kitty was crying, and trying valiantly to pretend she wasn’t.

Morgan slid into her seat with a sigh. “Do you want to go home, Kit? I can take you back. I think that’s pretty much the only thing that would surprise him, at this point. I feel like he’s been a step ahead this whole time. Sent me running in a blind panic so he could set an ambush. I’m worried I’ve put you in more danger by asking you to come with me.”

Kitty shook her head furiously. “No! I want to stay with you. I don’t care if it’s dangerous.” She leaned across the middle seat and gripped the collar of Morgan’s jacket, pulling them together for a kiss.

Morgan tensed for a moment, surprise freezing her in place for a long moment. Suddenly, things made a lot more sense.

Kitty retreated quickly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. We can just forget it, I won’t do it again, I—” She halted mid sentence when Morgan reached out and brushed away the tears welling in her eyes again.

“Don’t be sorry. C’mere.” She gently held Kitty’s face and pressed a tentative kiss to her lips in return, tasting salt, humming when Kitty responded enthusiastically, lips parted and hands braced against Morgan’s thigh so she could leverage herself closer. For a minute, Morgan let herself forget that they were parked out in the open, that John was bound to catch up with them sooner rather than later, that they were far from safe, and that it was far from wise. She wanted to lose herself in that moment.

But good sense wouldn’t let her stay there for too long. “Come on. Lets go get something proper to eat. We’re stuck here till the morning. We’ll just have to keep an eye out.”

Morgan drove well out of the way to find a diner to eat dinner at, and watched the door the whole time, barely tasting her food. Kitty, at least, looked a little more settled with a proper meal in her, relaxing slightly even while Morgan twitched at every new patron coming through the door.

"What was he like when he wasn't— I mean— Was it all bad?"

Kitty's question surprised Morgan out of her vigilance, splitting her focus down the middle. It took a moment to figure out a response to that. “I sucked at following his rules. Fought him on everything. So I spent a lot more time getting punished than I did anything else.” She picked up a cold fry off her plate and dipped it in ketchup. “He wanted me to like him. I’m sure he could have been worse.”

Kitty nodded slowly. "What was he like when you did follow the rules?"

"A creep. Making me wear short little dresses without panties while I did housework, if he let me wear clothes at all. Letting me sleep in bed so he could feel me up. Asking if I was done being stubborn or if I was ready to ask for his cock. Fucking pervert." She tossed the fry into her mouth. "It was some kind of fucking game to him. He wanted me to beg for it."

"Oh," Kitty said in a small voice.

"I'm trying to spare you the details, Kit. He's got some ugly fucking demons in him, and it'll be better if we get far away."

"Y-yeah. Of course."

"You sure you don't want me turning the truck around? Could get you back home before—"

"No!" Kitty said quickly. "I'll stay. Just— um. Why didn't you go to the police?"

"I did. He had connections. They fucking delivered me back to him." She slumped back into her seat. “Let’s get out of here. Not safe to stay in one place too long. We’re risking enough with a motel stay.”

Not that she had any intention of staying at the one that Tim had suggested. It was just a red herring, something to hopefully draw attention if Tim was compromised while she found somewhere to stay an hour or two’s drive away.

She finally decided on one as the sun started setting, pulling into a half empty gravel lot. The place was dated, but that was fine. It didn’t need to be perfect. Just needed a door that locked and a bed with clean sheets.

The front desk was run by a bored looking girl in her late teens. She snapped her gum while she booked Morgan in on the ancient computer. She didn’t ask any questions, and she let Morgan pay cash, which was all she cared about.

She checked the room, paranoia winning over the more rational thought that she hadn’t known where they were staying until they got there, so John couldn’t have possibly set a trap for her, and Kitty hopped into the shower while Morgan flipped on the tv and scanned through channels listlessly.

— For a limited time only—

*— A community in chaos to— *

— Refreshing—

Wait. She flicked back to the news channel. A woman with a microphone standing in front of the smoking remains of a building, the unscathed sign at the edge of the parking lot reading Rosemary’s Diner. Red and blue flashing lights haloed her blonde hair, firefighters and police securing the area against the gathering crowd. “Crews are still recovering bodies from the ashes of this beloved local establishment. It is unclear what happened, or why none of the patrons were able to escape before the fire engulfed the building, but—”

Morgan’s head went fuzzy, her ears ringing as the noise from the tv scrambled as her brain tried to make sense of it. No on could escape because they were already dead. She’d killed them by walking into the place. This was her fault.

“Um, Morgan,” Kitty called from the bathroom. “There’s no towels.”

Morgan grimaced. She didn’t want them to separate for an instant. “I’ll go to the front desk and get some. Keep that door locked.”

The night time air was quiet and cool. She locked the door behind her— The place was so old that it had keys rather than cards. She wasn’t sure if that was a comfort or a liability. She was too rattled to think it over.

This shouldn’t have shaken her so much. She knew who John was. She knew how dangerous, how depraved he was. It just felt so… Unnecessary. Maybe it was just a message to her. That everywhere she went she’d endanger innocent people.

Morgan pushed the door open and walked into the front office of the motel, blinking in the bright fluorescent lights, frowning at the lack of sound. Hadn’t there been a bell over the door? The bored looking teen who had been there earlier was nowhere to be seen, and the scent of blood in the air hit her as she breathed in, thick, coppery, cloying. There was the bell, lying on the floor next to an expanding pool of red trickling out from behind the desk. This had just happened. Which meant--

"Hi, bonnie."

Morgan whirled around to face Soap, grimacing. He was the only one of John’s boys she'd met before, and she wished she hadn't. He’d been babysitting her when she’d escaped. He’d be eager to hand her back over to John and gain forgiveness for losing her in the first place. He wiped the bloody blade of his knife off on his shirt, blue eyes fixed on her, teeth bared in a feral sort of grin.

She grabbed the computer monitor off the desk and threw it at him, grabbing out a gun. Someone behind her grabbed her hand and yanked her hand up, sending her shot wild, shattering the window rather than blowing through Soap’s head like she intended. She yelped when another hand grabbed her ponytail and yanked her head backwards.

“Hey there, sugar.” That was one of the men from the mountain town gas station, the baseball hat one, if the sliver of blue in the upper periphery was any indication. Gaz, probably. He didn’t feel like a Ghost. “Why don’t you drop that gun?”

Morgan grabbed for her other gun, only just clearing the holster by the time Soap was on her, pinning her arm to her chest and leaning close, so that she was pressed tightly between their bodies.

Soap traced his thumb down her throat, fingers curled around her neck like he was dreaming of throttling the life out of her. He probably was. “No’ verrah sportin’ of ye, Morgan. Bringin’ guns to a knife fight.”

“You brought a friend, seems fair to me.”

“Ye would. Tricky little thing. Dinnae ken what Price sees in ye.”

“No?” Gaz pried the gun out of her hand and stowed it somewhere, his now freed hand coming around to cup her breast, lips trailing over her ear. “I can see a few things that he’d like.”

“Weel. There is tha’.”

Morgan kneed him hard, nailing him right above the knee. The angle wasn’t good for generating as much power as she would have liked, but it was effective enough.

He swore and yanked the other gun out of her hand, jamming it up under her chin. “Should jest kill ye now,” he growled. “Yer nothin’ but trouble.”

“You’re just upset because I lied about wanting to play with you,” she taunted. He’d let her out of the cage in the cellar, and wound up locked in there himself. “How long were you stuck in there, Soap? Did John let you out when he got home, or did he leave you in there a little longer to make sure puppy learned his lesson?”

“Mouthy for a brat with a gun to her head,” Gaz said, yanking on her hair again. “Should be beggin’ for forgiveness.”

“Pull the fucking trigger, you coward,” Morgan spat. “I’m not going to beg for my life. Just fucking kill me. Should be easy. You killed all those people at the diner.” She carefully reached for the knife on Soap’s belt, doing her best not to move too much. So long as they were paying more attention to her mouth, she could get it. “Fucking losers, picking off a bunch of seniors. You lose your nerve when you’ve got a fair fight on your hands? Can’t even take me without backup, huh Soap?”

His hold on her other wrist tightened, enough to make her bones creak. She tried not to grimace, but he saw the wince in her eyes, satisfaction flitting through his baby-blues. “Price said one piece, but he didna say I couldnae break a few fingers.”

“Soap,” Gaz said warningly. “Come on. Let’s just get her out of here.”

Soap lowered the gun. Morgan ripped the knife off his belt and stabbed it into Gaz’s leg, gripping tight so she wouldn’t lose it when he jerked back, letting go of her hair in surprise.

“Shit, get back here you little—” Gaz tried to grab her again, so she turned and slashed at him, cutting a thin slice through his shirt.

Soap grabbed her from behind, so she let him take her weight as she kicked Gaz hard in the gut, knocking all the air out of him. Morgan smashed her head back into Soap’s face as she lowered her legs, only stumbling a little when he let go to cradle his nose, blood pouring from between his fingers. She grabbed his shoulders and kneed him hard in the groin for good measure, shoving him to the ground.

She ran outside. The air reeked of gasoline, the signature cover for their sins. They'd burn the place down on the way out. She ran back to the room. The door was open, hanging off it's hinges, the darkness beyond yawning like an open mouth.

"Kitty?" she called out, stepping inside. She already knew she wouldn't be there. Or if she was…

Only silence. Kitty's bag was gone off the bed, but hers was still there. She grabbed it, nearly sobbing when she found it open, her rifle gone. No guns, no Kitty, just her and a couple of flimsy knives against John and his dogs.

"Lookin' for this, honey?" John melted out of the shadows by the door. It should have been impossible for a man as big as him to be so quiet, so invisible. He held her rifle loosely in his big hands, not even bothering to point it at her. He was entirely at ease, shoulders relaxed, head tipped slightly to the side as he looked at her, eyes glittering in the low light.

Morgan gripped her stolen knife tighter. "Where's Kitty?"

“Ghost has her. Put the knife down, sweetheart. Somethin’ happens to me, he’s gonna snap her pretty neck. Be easy too, little thing like her.” He took a step forward. “It’s time to come home. Nothing left for you out here.”

Morgan backed up a step. He was between her and the door. There were no other exits. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He had her cornered, defenceless, beaten again.

“Come on,” he said, holding out one hand, taking another slow step, like she was a wild animal he was trying to coax into domestication. That was probably how he saw her. “We don’t need to fight anymore, do we? I’ve missed you.”

“Have you?” she asked, acid roiling in her belly. “You were there that whole time— Six months! You knew! Why didn’t you just— Why’d you let me think I’d gotten away?”

Another step. “I was going to come get you early on, but I overheard Kitty talkin’ to one of the other girls at the diner about you. How you’d helped her fix her car up, how sweet you were, how smart, how strong. Poor girl was half in love with you before you’d been there a month. And I thought to myself, maybe that’s what a wild thing like you needs. A good girl to show you how to behave.”

He’d let her get close to Kitty just so he could use the poor girl against her. She’d tried to keep Kitty away, but she just kept coming back. A nudge from a well meaning regular might have convinced Kitty to ignore Morgan’s prickles, and that string of car troubles… Easily engineered by someone who knew enough about engines to make it look like it wasn’t sabotage. She’d been so so stupid. Should have just collected what she needed and moved on when she first got to Montana.

John tossed the gun onto the bed to free up his other hand as he moved past it. Morgan wondered if she could get past him, grab the gun, kill him, but—

“You ready to go, boss?” Gaz asked, his shadow filling the doorway.

John turned, carelessly turning his back on Morgan for a moment. She could jam her knife into his neck, grab the gun before John hit the ground, shoot Gaz— But Soap and Ghost were still out there somewhere, and they could hurt Kitty. Without John holding Soap’s leash, the maniac would do a lot worse than just kill them too.

“We’ll be along in a moment. Take her things.” He nodded toward the bed, then chuckled as Gaz limped over. One of his pant legs was dark with blood, a strip of fabric tied around where she’d stabbed him to put some pressure on the wound. “She got you, huh?”

“Got Soap too. Broke his nose.”

John shook his head. “Told you not to underestimate her.”

Gaz shouldered the bag and picked up the rifle. “You’re the one with your back turned to her.”

“She knows better than to try it. Isn’t that right? You’re ready to be good, aren’t you?” He turned back toward Morgan, a smug smile tugging on his lips. “You can start by giving me the knife, princess.”

She stared at his open palm, extended trustingly toward her, like he knew she wouldn’t bite back now. She hated him. Wanted nothing more than sink the blade into his hand, into any soft bit of skin she could reach. She wanted to be free of him more than she wanted to continue breathing.

But they had Kitty.

It felt like driving the final nail into her own coffin, sealing her fate, but she she dropped the knife into his hand, shaking with rage. “I hate you,” she hissed, the scratchy whisper all she could force out from a locked up throat.

He tucked the knife into his belt and closed the remaining space between them, tipping her face up so she couldn’t avoid those piercing blue eyes. “Oh sweetheart, you know that’s not true. If you’ll just be good, we can be happy. You just have to stop fighting me, hm? For Kitty’s sake.”

“Just— Just let her go. Please. I’ll be good.”

“Of course you will.” He thumbed across her cheek, wiping away tears she was desperately trying not to shed. “But I’m keeping you both.” He kissed her forehead, moustache prickling against her skin, and released her.

Morgan stood where she was for a long moment, feet rooted to the faded, stained motel carpet, as John walked away. Usually, he’d cuff her and cart her off, growling admonishments all the way home.

He looked back from the doorway, realizing that she wasn’t following. And of course, he wanted her to come of her own accord, to bow her head and admit defeat and follow him like a dog. He wanted her to choose to be with him.

“Come on, pet. It’s time to go home.”

Haltingly, she willed her feet to move, and she followed him.

Image Credit - Dividers by @/CafeKitsune

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Gentle Chokeholds by CharlieMWrites

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Please mind the warnings on each of the fics above, the warnings and intensities do vary a lot!

Thanks for Reading!

[eastbluecrewed]

things you can't get back

aka i've been waiting so patiently to see kidd get his ass beat by shanks (affectionate)

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday/wip wednesday

tagged by @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @tizniz @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie @spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @underwaterninja13 - tagging y'all back for wip wednesday 💖💖

doing two in one bc it's technically wednesday already idc lol - started a new wip I mentioned before (inspired by this video lol) and rn I'm rewriting what I wrote yesterday bc the past two days words were not wording and I hated everything I wrote, but I think I'm happy with it now haha I hope I'll manage to write it like I want to bc it's sooo good in my head istg haha

(wasn't gonna post until i have more but i need validation before i drive myself crazy over this lol)

___

It started as a random idea, more like a throwaway thought, really. Tommy was just checking the weather for the next few days – his hot pilot boyfriend always likes to be prepared – while they were hanging out, and he casually mentioned that “it’s gonna be nice on Saturday, perfect barbecue weather,” which got Buck to mention how they often have family barbecues at Bobby and Athena’s. Somehow, the conversation spiraled, and Buck’s not sure who threw out a more concrete idea, but here they are now, standing side by side in Tommy’s kitchen, preparing food – Buck’s currently slicing veggies for a salad, while Tommy takes care of the meat – for the barbecue where they invited way too many people than Tommy’s backyard can probably fit. It really is nice weather, the sliding door leading from the kitchen to the backyard open and letting in warm sunshine and a soft breeze that makes the air feel cooler. They work in pleasant silence, the only sound is quiet music playing from the speaker, and Buck can’t help a fond smile when he hears his boyfriend hum along, so off-key Buck’s not sure he even knows the song, but it’s still adorable.

The silence is disrupted by the doorbell ringing, and before Tommy can even move, Buck is dropping the knife on the cutting board, wiping his hands, and sprinting towards the door, shouting an “I got it!” over his shoulder. He’s followed by an echo of Tommy’s fondly amused chuckles. So he’s a little excited, sue him – they haven’t had a family day like this in a while, and there was only one he brought Tommy to, all of their schedules not so easy to align. And today his whole family will be here, including their spouses and children, and Tommy invited a couple of his friends and their families, too, and it’ll be just a big, loud, chaotic get-together that he’s hosting with his boyfriend. Buck never hosted one of these before, and he’s really enjoying it so far, and he just wants everyone to have fun.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck

@eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life

@diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @weewootruck @loveyouanyway

@spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

@nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @bidisasterevankinard @giddyupbuck

@sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings

@buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie @your-catfish-friend

@daffi-990 @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz

[firenati0n]

who truly stuck the knife in first

by firenati0n on ao3

M | 3.7k

tags: spy au, partners to lovers, banter, getting together, sexuaIIy charged wrestling, first kiss, protective henry, alex pov

“Did I say I wanted you to touch me? Maybe Vincent and Charles have a dead bedroom. Who wants to kiss a face like yours, anyway?” Patently false, considering Alex has wanted to do it forever. But he shelves that thought for a different day.  Henry raises an eyebrow as he smooths down the lines of his suit. “Hm. You think you'll get to kiss me with a smart mouth like that?” “Okay, Foxy. Don’t expect my tongue anywhere near yours tonight if things get sticky.” Henry smiles, soft and secretive. “Sure, Alex. No tongues, if you insist.”

xoxo roop

also tagging some folks who expressed interest in this pls don't mind me <3 ilysm xoxo

@suseagull04 @duchessdepolignaca03 @littlestar2911 @saturntheday @welcometololaland @onthewaytosomewhere @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @nontoxic-writes @onward--upward @cha-melodius @piratefalls @indestructibleheart @dolphinqueen10 @eusuntgratie @oxfordslutphase @dragonflylady77 @wordsofhoneydew @rmd-writes @celeritas2997 @bigassbowlingballhead @ninzied

[tunastime]

if you’re still doing the comfort prompts, maybe knowing each other’s tells with boat boys or ranchers? :]

knowing each others' tells (681 words) (x)

Etho isn't used to the Relation being silent. It's the kind of quiet that holds tension in the hollows of it, one he's always been afraid to step too loudly into. He's used to sound, Joel rustling and pacing, talking to the air as they weaved plans, speaking to Etho from across the deck of the ship like he could hear him from below. But as Etho climbs the ladder and swings himself onto the deck, the ship is quiet, save for the steady thud of his pulse in one ear, and the quickening beat of Joel's behind his other ear. He runs his tongue over his teeth as he makes his way down into the belly of the ship. 

Joel is pacing where he usually does, making his track across the wooden floors like he might wear a dent into it. Etho watches the tight line of his shoulders for a beat, eyes tracking the huff of his breathing as he folds his arms over his chest. It takes a moment of surveying for Etho to make his conclusions, and by the time he's stepped forward, Joel has stopped to track him with his eyes. If they knew each other any less, if Etho were any less, strangely, fond of him, it might be scary, the way Joel freezes, dark eyes tracking his movements with a precision only known by predators hunting prey. Something could be said about persistence and hunger and teeth that could bite, but Etho isn't worried about Joel. He knows trapped animals well enough. So he picks his way around the room and starts to piece the problem together. 

"It was Scar, wasn't it?" Etho asks. He's not looking at Joel—he's busy digging through a chest, looking for the other axe he'd made. Joel makes some kind of choppy noise. "You had a good trap idea for later, said it too loud around Grian, and now you're worried Scar might try it just for fun and get them killed?"

"I'm not worried about Grian," Joel says. Joel lies. His voice squeaks. Etho stifles a laugh.

"Okay," he says. Joel makes another noise, and Etho ignores him. "Why don't we make the plan before they get to?"

"I thought you said traps were a waste of time,” Joel says pointedly, dragging his tongue over his teeth. He tries to contort his face into one of disbelief before Etho can catch the fact that Joel is into his plan whole-heartedly.

Etho holds up his hands, still not looking at him.

"I think you're misinterpreting."

“No,” Joel argues. “I’m pretty sure that’s what you said.”

When Etho looks over, there’s a light in Joel’s eye that Etho takes as his hint that he’s been successful in convincing him, despite attempting an argument. A tiny spark of excitement. That slight flicker of recognition, of understanding. Seeing a little of himself in Etho. A tell.

They sit together in the bright afternoon sun, mostly quiet, partially humming and nodding and pointing. Joel follows Etho’s rough sketches with his eyes, mouth curled down. It’s not in disregard, but quiet contemplation. Etho pauses halfway, listening to the double beating of hearts in his ears, waiting for any dissent from his partner. Joel doesn’t say anything, though. He shifts closer, folding his legs. The little shimmer of recognition and pride has grown flame-bright in Joel’s eyes as excitement and anticipation takes over. He feels the phantom tug of unclaimed emotions in his chest—Joel’s, not his—as Joel nods. Their hearts thump away excitedly in Etho’s ears, now in sync.

The only other time Etho sees that flicker of something in Joel's eyes is when he follows him through that nether portal. He feels Joel's grip on his hand grow to a fierce, painful thing as he turns, breath caught in his throat as he tries to shove them both back through. The words are muddled in Etho's memory, but the guilt is clear in his eyes. Guilt, fear, and that flicker.

Maybe it wasn’t just understanding.

Etho doesn’t forget that look for a long time.

[mamawasatesttube]

experiencing the horrors . save me lil guy from comic book. lil guy from comic book PLEASE