#respectfully i will not be cleaning up this sketch

[jopzer]

wlw mlm hostility

[doorrobloxstuff]

Stone Figure #3 Home

Sorry, no gay kissing in this one.

Screech and Snare. Nobody else

It only came to see them

It only came to see them.

Only them.

…

The library was rickety, but otherwise clean.

Atleast, as far as Figure could tell.

Its nest was decent too, at least as far it could tell.

And the books, too, were decent as far as it could tell. Though, very few were actually in braille.

Everything else was of a monotonous and repetitive sort, pacing, taking a shower with the rusty metal watering can, taking some pain medicine from a bottle of pills that It found, read a book, read another book, read another book, sing, sing again, sing once more. Release the song that was trapped in its throat that threatened to claw its way out.

Figure perked up, as a familiar scent crept into the library. The sound of blinking eyes and the scent of jasmine and tea..another presence too, creeping. Dripping. Smaller than yet less cautious than the other. Both near the edge of its nest of blankets.

“Hello? F-Figure.. Is that you?”

Figure took its time to respond, its mind rattled for an answer.

“..”

“...”

“..Hide?”

Hide crept closer, a hand and an eye emerged from its puddle. It studied Figure for a few moments, slowly reaching over to touch one of the rocks on its skin.

Figure pulled away and made a soft growl, though it didn’t seem like it was angry.

“..Please don’t.”

Hide melted away, giving Figure a respectable amount of distance, watching the lizard adjust itself and stretch its legs.

“..S-Sorry..” It watched Figure for a few moments before reluctantly speaking again. “..You look different.” It flinched and quickly added. “I like your flowers...they’re very pretty.”

Figure rumbled softly, its face almost pinkish as it slowly brought one of its large arms out in front of it to show Hide some more with a reluctant “Thank you.”

Hide moved closer to take a better look at the various flowers and stones growing in and around its flesh.

“..Can I draw you?” It asked tentatively, keeping its eyes low and head dipped down respectfully.

Figure said nothing as it rolled on its stomach and flicked its tongue. “That’s fine..I just want your companion there to reveal themself..” It flicked its tongue and raised its head with a distorted, rocky purr. “..And come closer so I can give you my chin..”

And after a moment, Screech emerged from the shadows and pressed its head into its parent’s.

“luvenis vespertilio orchis..” Figure cooed, its tail lifted and then immediately thumped against the floor.

“Pff, hey dad. I’m not that young.”

Figure purred and rubbed its face up against Screech. A small gesture which Hide happily sketched.

“How are you..?” Figure said with a hoarse whisper. Feeling a bit of unexpected pain in its throat.

“Oh, I’m doing pretty good..I made a few friends- talked with Dupe..Oh! Did dad do the uhh, needle thing?” Screech leaned around, looking for any stray needles Seek might’ve left between Figure’s rocks.

Figure made an amused rumble and nodded.

Screech laughed and waved its tendrils in glee.

“IT DID!? God, I wish I was there!-“

The younger entity was loud and jovial, full of words and anecdotes and phrases and jokes.

If Figure was a humming tune, Screech would be a rhapsodic melody.

It was a lot, it was many, but never overwhelming to the point of annoyance.

It would never be annoying.

The young entity talked for hours on end before it momentarily paused and Figure felt a tendril prod its tail.

“Oh! I see you got Snare’s gift!”

Figure moved its tail out towards Screech, revealing The tiny lily seeds had emerged from its flesh and sprouted.

“They’ll smell nice when they bloom.~” It purred thoughtfully, smoothing a pad over them and its other small garden of plants it had acquired over the years in its flesh.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I went to a forest with gigantic trees, Screech?”

“Yea, you did the ones you climbed and climbed and climbed and it still took you hours to reach the top?”

Figure nodded, remembering the smell of spicy earth and the way pine needles crunched between its teeth and the sun's warmth touching the skin in between the cracks of the rocks consuming its flesh.

“Yes..This place..This place is like it, but it smells..oily...”

It stopped over a small, interestingly shaped leaf. Wispy and fuzzy with soft, crinkly sounds. Pleasant sounding to its ear canals.

It held it in its hand for a moment before It winced, and plucked it off its stem.

“Here, give it to your father…Send it my regards..”

Screech looked at the leaf in its hand, the smile slowly fading into a confused frown. Though, it didn’t say anything in response as it turned it in its hand.

Figure took Screech’s head into one of its pads.

“It’s getting late my dear, you should head back home...you too, Hide.”

Hide looked at its finished sketches, Screech and Figure nuzzled together, Figure with a leaf in its mouth and Figure and its flowers.

“Thank you,” it peeped, and then promptly turned into a puddle and sped out the door at lightning speed.

“I’m a night owl, I can stay up for a few more hours..”

“Mm..I am more than aware, but you should rest regardless..and I’ll be up in the morning sniffing around this strange place.”

Figure licked Screech’s cheek, letting out a crackly purr of amusement as the entity recoiled with a “AH- OKAY oKay-!”

Screech then leaned back in and gave Figure one more, singular hug to Figure.

This one much longer.

“..I missed you dad..just...please have a goodnight’s sleep okay..?”

“..My little orchid..do you..?-” Figure started with a sorrowful trill but Screech was already gone and left the small ghost of its warmth on Figure’s shoulders.

It sighed, curled up and stretched the blankets of its nest with its legs before setting itself down on its stomach.

Figure heard the walls creak and shift briefly raised its head.

“You’ve raised them well, haven't you?” It whispered into the creaks and shivers of the wall. Even in a different room it could still smell it in every corner, wall, nook and cranny.

It was in the moisture in the air, the absorbed water of its plants, even the worms moved through the dirt below the boards held its eternal gaze.

The next few words a prayer to the city’s god.

“..Thank you..”

“..Keep them safe when I’m gone for good.”

It kept its head raised for a response that never came, and after a moment, it simply laid its head back down and embraced the silence.

And it stayed there, unable to sleep and the aching of its tail and legs growing ever expansive as the hours passed.

——

Sorry, I know you wanted to see them kiss. But not yet. Goodness gracious, I need to make some fluffy stuff after this. This community needs some hope and light fr.

[eiseryn]

"You're stupid. I like that in a man."

I had to redraw this meme as soon as I found out Vail's INT is a 50 XD (for reference, Lei's INT is 80)*

I love them together so much 🥺🥺🥺 I used to clown Lei for having bad taste in men (Vail LOL because he seemed super flaky due to him having 0 screen time but it turns out he's really good to her??? He's just a very very busy man 😔😔😔). I also like how he's a short king BUT IT TURNS OUT HIS SIZ IS 65 and LEI'S SIZ IS 50 XDDD but since the DM said he's only a few cm taller I will believe in the Vail short king canon-ity (I'm going to estimate he's like 165cm though XD -- Lei is 158.5cm which she justifies is basically 159cm which is basically 160cm XD. She wears lots of heels for a reason XD) This was supposed to be a quick little sketch but y'know I haven't had much time to draw so after cleaning up the sketch for the lines I started the flats... and then I started rendering.. .and then for some ungodly reason I decided to draw a cyberpunk cityscape for the background WHICH MEANT OF COURSE I HAD TO DO THE APPROPRIATE FILTER + LIGHTING FOR IT 😭😭😭 SO HERE I AM LIKE 5 HOURS LATER 🤡🤡🤡💀💀🤡🤡🤡 I'm clowning too hard I have no time to draw nowadays... man...

Details I am proud of here: Lei's hand!!! I always struggle with hands but I spent a lot of time + effort this time and looked at a bunch of refs! Of course putting the effort into the lighting/BG is another one! BUT a very cool detail I included is that Vail's ear tips are red 😳😳😳 cute, right? They're so cute together 🥺🥺🥺 *80 is the usual max, but for some strange reason, her doctor friends Elise and Ceres have INT of 85 and 90 respectfully! This is very sus!!! (But there's apparently lore reasons why which have yet to be revealed...)

[motgarel]

Respectfully, may i please be fed some draven kondraki content?

You're in luck, I have this sketch I'll never clean up of Draven in his work clothes.

[devilfic]

Giiiirl your Bruce Wayne series owns my whole ass being right now 😩🥵 You're doing a great job with it!! If you don't mind sharing, how did bruce learn about readers mother/what are his feelings towards it? Obvi if that's a spoiler etc it's okay not to share! And I'm a 100% interested to hear any other headcanons you have cooked up, specially about brucexreader and their dynamic 🦇

sfaksjfka thank you so much, lovely!! and I am super excited to share, thank u for asking

how did bruce learn about reader's mother? what are his feelings towards it?

so, disclaimer: I have a plan for the next two parts I've got in mind for this series and I plan to delve more into the history between bruce/reader/the reader's mother in the latter of the two, so to keep from spoiling I'll give ya just a few details

I thought about how bruce sees himself in don mitchell's son, and given how keen he is on collecting robins in the comics, I know he has a soft heart for anybody with a difficult familial situation. in relation to the reader, bruce can't help sympathizing. he lost his parents in one night to a stranger out of the blue, so he can't imagine what it's like to know your parent only has so long left but never knowing when the other shoe will drop. at the same time... he's envious.

he's not proud of it (he hates it), but he often wishes he'd been older like the reader, had seen it coming. the abruptness of losing his parents at such a young age has left him with more sorrow than room to properly grieve. seeing the reader spend time with their mother, having the time to say goodbye, really makes something ugly twist inside him. regardless, he wouldn't wish either situation on his worst enemy.

bruce/bruce x reader headcanons

in "sick day", I mentioned that bruce likes to do charcoal drawings and occasionally draws strangers. bruce also draws people he knows (like alfred, gordon, selina), but he keeps those in his sketchbook. he has a few of you in there but don't ask him how he managed to sketch you without you noticing. he is the shadows

speaking of, when he first started going out on patrol, he kept his drawing materials in his backpack along with his suit. sometimes, he'd pull over on his bike and draw when he had the time. one might've spied a hooded figure standing at a street corner hunched over a detailed drawing of a 7/11 once or twice. he has a lot of half-finished drawings due to suiting up at a moment's notice.

on the rare occasion bruce is up for breakfast (and you're there early), he might come join you, alfred, and dory to eat. occasionally, if he's in a good mood, he might even do the dishes.

bruce has a habit of looming. when you're all working in his dad's study, bruce will often lean over the back of your chair and dictate by your ear... that's when you're lucky enough to know he's there, anyway.

since he's so quiet, you regularly turn down hallways to find him just standing there, bump into him while bustling about, and frighten yourself half to death when you realize he's been standing off in some shadowy corner of the room you're in for who knows how long. alfred and dory are used to it, but you still need some time to adjust.

bruce typically refuses your help to clean him up/tend to his wounds after a rough night of patrol. it's not that he doesn't want (or need) the help, but he has a habit of pretending he isn't hurt when he is. you try not to push him, but seeing him wince in pain while trying to tough it out really frustrates you sometimes (pls yell at him to take care of himself).

in "sick day", bruce didn't immediately get up in a hurry after you both fell asleep together. he'd been mortified to know that he'd curled up to you in the night like a child, but something changed that morning. you'd stayed of your own volition, watching over him and taking care of him because you wanted to. he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a warm body to lie next to. he stayed in bed much longer (respectfully, at a distance) than he'd ever let you know.

he did eventually get up to shower. you were a saint to cut him some slack on the smell and not mention it.

you caught bruce's cold in the end, though.

while not the hands-on caretaker that you are, bruce did send a "get well soon!" card and a person to drop off meals at your apartment/run errands for you that agonizing week. he still won't tell you how much all of that cost.

[the-last-kenobi]

I adore your qui gon and obi wan stuff so can we get a number 8 on the prompt list with obi wan and qui gon?

Absolutely!! I’m so glad you chose that one; I’ve loved every single prompt I’ve gotten but this one breaks the mold a little.

I hope this lives up to your expectations!

From this various prompts list.

_

When Qui-Gon Jinn set foot on the planet of Melida/Daan for the second time, he had a fixed set of expectations.

He expected to find the same war-torn, shattered homes and abused soil, the same decimated populations, the same stench of death. He expected to find the underground hideouts where the children hid from the wrath of their parents, and where the Melida plotted against the Daan and the Daan against the Melida. He expected to find a bruised and shame-faced former Jedi Padawan, ready to humble himself before the Council.

He expected to have to offer both comfort and stern reprimand to this child who, as much of a delight as he had once been, no longer deserved to be his apprentice.

And he did find some of that.

He also found fields of green grass, and abandoned fields of half-plucked vegetation and fruits.

A memorial garden.

A row of corpses covered neatly in cloths, lining the road, respectfully untouched.

Faded posters announcing committees and treaties and open elections, speeches and remembrance services.

A mural on a stone wall, somewhere between impressionist and abstract, of a line of children and adults, the children in the center. Towards the very middle, almost exactly so, was the image of a young boy with pale russet locks hanging an inch loose, and Qui-Gon paused, observing warily as if the image might come to life and attack him.

But it was only an image, and Obi-Wan Kenobi was only a wayward child.

And none of this is was going as anticipated.

The Jedi Master tried to recall what Yoda had told him before chivvying him out the door, but in truth he had not processed much of it aside from Obi-Wan’s name and the understanding that he had asked to be retrieved from Melida/Daan.

Why?

Clearly things had changed, immensely ��� and yet, in the background, the continued sound of bombs going off and weapons firing, and not a living being in sight.

Qui-Gon continued deeper into the core of the civilization, skirting the worst of the ruins but avoiding the main road in a passing effort to go unnoticed.

It did not last long.

“Master Jedi!” a voice hissed out suddenly, and Qui-Gon turned sharply to see a young man — maybe nineteen, at most — peering at him around the corner of the nearest building, pressed close to the wall. He gestured shortly and vanished.

Qui-Gon took a moment to cast out his senses. The Force bore no distinct warning, so he crossed the road quickly and ducked around the corner.

The young man was waiting for him. Up close it was clear that he was younger than he had appeared, perhaps seventeen, just emerging from the gangly limbs stage, and he was coated in dirt and grime — some of it oddly strategic, smeared across his cheekbones and the crown of his forehead, darkening and muting them. Dark hazel eyes considered Qui-Gon suspiciously.

“You were expecting me,” Qui-Gon stated.

The boy nodded. “I was. Obi-Wan said you would be arriving today, maybe tomorrow.”

A strange jolt ran through Qui-Gon. He had not said Obi-Wan’s name aloud himself, not since that day almost eight months before, and while he had heard other Jedi mention it, it was off-putting to hear this total stranger use it. So familiarly. Like he knew Kenobi well. Qui-Gon brushed the thoughts aside like so many cobwebs and spoke again: “Well, here I am. Where next?”

He did not say, ‘Where is Obi-Wan?’

For some reason, it would have felt like a confession.

The boy pressed his lips into a flat line, as if the Jedi had failed some sort of test. “…I’ll show you. Stick close to me and don’t do anything reckless. Stealth is our best ally right now. Only ally, really.”

Qui-Gon wondered what he was, then, since he was certainly not included in this mysterious “we.”

It was slightly insulting, and sharply painful, to be lectured on strategic maneuvers by what amounted to a child soldier.

Nevertheless, Qui-Gon followed him.

They wound their way through the settlement, bypassing craters where homes had stood and also far more intact buildings, still crisp and clean and bearing that unmistakable scent of newness.

These, more than any of the others, were painted with images of children and adults standing together, plastered with announcements, and more than one — many — almost all — featuring that flame-haired youth. More often than not he was framed closely by two others. Another boy, this one slightly taller and leaner with dark hair. And a girl, a little smaller, with bold waves and startling green eyes.

The boy with the dirty face turned his head to look at each of them, though he did not slow.

After what felt like a very long time, Qui-Gon found himself entering what seemed to be a cellar. It was dark and musty, but before he could question it, his guide went to a section of the wall and pushed, popping open a panel that sank away and slid to one side.

“This way,” he said unnecessarily.

In they went. It was a tunnel, low and long, and Qui-Gon had to stoop halfway just to move. The boy, several inches shorter, had less trouble.

A few minutes of breathless, blind stumbling later, and they reached a reinforced door.

The boy knocked slowly, then quickly; stopped, and then knocked rapidly again. “It’s me!” he called through the crevice. “He’s here.”

There was a grinding sound, and then the door swung open to reveal bright light. The boy slipped through without hesitation, but the Jedi Master was more wary, blinking and waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light before slowly entering the room, still bowed low from the tunnel.

When he rose, he was looking directly into the eyes of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The boy had changed, and yet was exactly the same.

There was no other way to describe it.

He had certainly shot up an inch or so in height. His Jedi tunics were gone; he was wearing a stained white tunic of much poorer cloth and simpler cut, over a pair of patched brown trousers and sturdy boots. His robe was still the one he had worn when he had first arrived all those months ago, but he had sewn the sleeves so that they did not dangle over his wrists or hang wide and loose; instead they were drawn closer, but not so tight that they impeded his movement.

His hair seemed more coppery red than before as it hung loose and untidy, coming to slightly ragged ends halfway between his jawline and his shoulders. Some of the baby fat had melted away, driven off no doubt by stress and hunger and emotion, and his cheekbones stood out a little too much.

But it was his eyes that struck Qui-Gon.

They seemed exactly the same.

Pale blue-green, wide and friendly and innocent, sweet as they had been on the day they met.

Unbearably naive.

Those eyes flickered with shock for a moment, and then the boy stepped forward and offered out his hand. “Master Jinn,” he said.

Qui-Gon blinked. Perhaps if he waited a moment, Obi-Wan would remember that Jedi bowed? But the boy merely stared at him with his hand extended, and so Qui-Gon grasped it and shook briefly before letting go.

The boy did not seem particularly bothered. He turned to the rest of the room. “You’re all ready?”

“Yes,” came a chorus of voices.

Freed from the strangeness of Obi-Wan and his gaze, Qui-Gon looked around. There were several others present — all humans, all young, all grimy. Maybe a dozen or so in number. The room he was in was spacious, a little low-ceilinged and plain. It had the air of a bunker, with bright lights that aggravated the eyes and dull walls and functional furniture. Most notably, the enormous table in the center.

It was spread with maps, fliers, announcement posters, detailed blueprints for buildings and machinery, tidy sketches outlining strategies and countermeasures. Qui-Gon’s keen eyes caught words like ‘anti-terrorism,’ ‘knowledge is courage,’ ‘long-range missile launcher,’ and ‘riot activity.’ And, half-concealed under a map of Melida/Daan’s entire surface, a flat holo of three people. Obi-Wan. The dark-haired boy. The girl with green eyes.

“Master Jinn,” Obi-Wan’s voice broke into his observations.

They were all watching him with various degrees of mistrust.

Qui-Gon straightened his spine, and then forced himself to relax a little, trying to radiate comfort and honesty. Even without force sensitivity, they would be eased somewhat.

“Yes, I’m listening,” he assured them.

Kenobi exchanged a quick look with the boy who had guided him here, and the youth shrugged. “He was quick enough and he listened to what I said, but he’s like most adults. Thinking more in his head than paying attention, didn’t even ask my name.”

Qui-Gon started. He hadn’t, had he?

“I—” he began, but the youth cut him off with a dismissive gesture.

“You didn’t ask,” he said. “I’m not sharing now. I’m sure you’ll hear it eventually.”

Obi-Wan nodded as if this were perfectly reasonable. “Master Jinn, are you prepared to take all thirteen of us back to Coruscant?”

“What?” Qui-Gon demanded. He glanced around at the others, who looked even less impressed than before. He felt so unexpectedly out of his depth. What was this place? “I — no, I’m returning you to the Jedi, to the care of the High Council.”

“No,” Obi-Wan said placidly. “You’re not. I’m sure Master Yoda had his reasons for sending you—” the slightest emphasis on the word ‘you’—“but you are here to escort myself and the other twelve to the Core to appear before the Senate. That’s why you were assigned such a large ship. We’re going to make an appeal on behalf of Meldan.”

“Meldan?” Qui-Gon echoed.

“Our planet,” one of the others, a curly-haired, fierce-eyed woman of about twenty-two said. “Obi, are you sure about this? This isn’t at all what you said we could expect.”

“Master Jinn is an exception to many rules,” Obi-Wan told her; as he turned his head to look in her direction, he briefly seemed to change, the tension in his shoulders easing and his face alight with mischief. Then it was gone. He turned back to Qui-Gon, and beneath the veneer of professionalism could be glimpsed a strange aura of… something Qui-Gon couldn’t determine or define.

Their eyes met again, and silence fell for a moment.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan decided. “Yes, this will work. If any Jedi will help ensure you catch the attention of the Senate, it would be Master Jinn. Master Yoda also told me that Master Adi Gallia will be your official patron, which is good; she spends most of her time handling the political side of Jedi affairs.”

“Then we should go now,” said a small boy of no more than nine. “Let’s go!”

“Not just yet, Jocco,” Obi-Wan said soothingly, turning a gentle smile on the child. “We’re not quite ready. We’ll leave in about an hour.”

“Right,” Jocco said, nodding. “Okay.”

Obi-Wan smiled again. “All right, everyone. We have meals to eat and supplies to pack, so let’s keep together and keep organized. Sarai,” he nodded at the curly-haired woman, “and my friend,” a nod to the bitter-eyed nameless guide, “please bring Master Jinn up to speed. Master Jinn,” he added, glancing up from where the smallest children were flocking to his side and clinging to his hands, “I will see you in an hour.”

He left, surrounded by children both far younger and several years older than him, like adoring chicks following their mother, or maybe more like an honor guard. The contrast was both ludicrous and oddly touching.

“You listen to him,” Qui-Gon commented to his tight-lipped companions. “Even though he no longer carries the authority of a Jedi.”

“I haven’t seen any Jedi authority yet,” snapped back his unnamed guide. “Just three Jedi who came, two who left, and one who stayed.”

“It was not our mission to stay,” Qui-Gon replied calmly, tucking his hands inside his sleeves. “Though I can see what compelled him to.”

“Oh, can you?” said Sarai. She folded her arms tightly and assessed him, her lip curling. “I don’t think you see much past the end of your own nose.”

“Petty insults will get us nowhere,” he replied, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of said nose. “And it won’t help you when you speak for your people before the Senate.”

“Me?” an amused smile curled her lips. She looked as if all her suspicions had just been confirmed. “I won’t be speaking, not primarily anyways. I don’t have any governmental authority behind me, I’m just a secondary representative.”

“Same here,” said the young man.

“Governmental authority…? Then who is your speaker?” Qui-Gon asked, slightly bewildered.

“Are you blind?” said the young man. “Obi-Wan is the leader. Since the other two were assassinated, Obi-Wan is our only head of government.”

_

The next time Qui-Gon laid eyes on his former apprentice, it was mere minutes before their agreed departure time.

The children — Melida, Daan, none of them older than sixteen, aside from former Melida Sarai and former Daan who still refused to share his name — were all gathered next to a large reinforced bay door next to a small fleet of speeders.

Obi-Wan had one arm draped around the shoulders of a ten-year-old boy, murmuring instructions to him, and carrying the little toddler girl on his hip. She was playing with his hair contentedly, unbothered by the preparations going on around her.

If it had been strange to see Obi-Wan before, with his air of sameness-yet-differentness, it was doubly so now.

Knowing what he now knew.

Knowing that Obi-Wan Kenobi had accomplished what he had set out to do and reunited the Melida and the Daan with the help of a few middle-aged adults from both sides and the constant aid of his two companions, Cerasi and Nield. Knowing that he had been fairly elected alongside Cerasi and Nield as the Triumvers — the three Heads of State — of the newly named Meldan.

Knowing that they had been in the midst of Reconstruction both physical and emotional when a radical had betrayed them, murdering innocents gathered for discussions. How Cerasi had been murdered in her bed. How Nield had begun drumming up a military force, only to be assassinated — by a friend of the peace or a foe, who could say? How Obi-Wan had seen all his allies either killed or turn away, and had gathered all he could and retreated below ground, holding tight to his ideals and the legislative power that now backed him.

Knowing how he had continued to sow the seeds of freedom and diplomacy even as the people left above ground resorted again to violence. How he had nurtured genuine friendships among his people, even after having been betrayed.

And here he stood, not even fifteen, making children laugh and reassuring people older than him as he attempted to carry them to freedom and hope.

A government of war-veteran children, led by a former Jedi Padawan.

Qui-Gon watched as everyone was paired up, older teens with younger children, two to a speeder, until at last there was only one vehicle left and only himself and Kenobi still standing.

“I’m afraid I’ll be piloting,” the boy told him. “I’m familiar with the route.”

Qui-Gon swallowed away a bitter taste and merely nodded.

Obi-Wan swung himself up behind the controls, and Qui-Gon moved to sit behind him, and despite everything, despite knowing Obi-Wan’s history over the past eight months, despite being determined not to regard him as his Padawan ever again, it still felt wrong to sit behind. To let the child lead. To let the child sit behind the controls where any decent sniper would aim.

“Stick close and keep low!” Obi-Wan called out.

“Love you Obi!” the same tiny girl cried out from somewhere behind them on another speeder.

Qui-Gon didn’t know what he expected, if he expected anything at all in this strange parallel universe he had wandered into. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan turning his head to grin at the girl and calling back, “Love you too, Cler!” still surprised him.

And then they were off.

The children were clearly well trained, experienced. They seemed to know this back route by heart, undeterred by the semi-light of dusk, and keeping behind outcroppings of rock and trees as much as possible.

Obi-Wan glanced around periodically to check on the others, and every so often one of the others from the back of the parade would speed up to match his pace and give him the all-clear before falling back again.

The breathlessness of the moment settled somewhere in Qui-Gon’s chest. If he could put aside the emotional toll it was taking to sit behind his former student and see him not as a Jedi but as a war-tried planetary ruler, it was easier to be caught up in the rush. The fate of thousands depended on this race for freedom.

The former Jedi Master and Padawan maintained their lead, a slight gap between them and the others.

This served them all well when a blaster bolt came out of nowhere and struck Obi-Wan in his right shoulder, missing his chest only because he sensed it at the last second and twisted away.

There were screams from the smaller children; the older children reacted immediately, scattering their small fleet and engaging their weapons.

“There!” Qui-Gon cried, pointing to a ridge on their right where glimpses of people moving could be seen. His other hand was holding Obi-Wan upright.

“Are you all right to keep piloting?” he shouted.

“For a little while! Hold on, I have a plan!” Obi-Wan shouted back.

“Is it a good plan?”

“Hard to tell until I’ve done it!”

For a second it felt like it had been a year ago, or even better, both of them on the edge of adrenaline and serenity, grinning.

Qui-Gon ignited his lightsaber and deflected two more blaster shots, calling out warnings to the others within earshot.

A speeder went down.

A girl and boy were thrown several meters, crushing in the dust, clinging to one another as they rolled to a stop. On another speeder, Sarai yelled “Here!” and pulled up alongside Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, while Jocco stood up from behind her and leapt.

Qui-Gon’s heart shot to his throat.

But as he extended a hand and caught the child with the Force, Obi-Wan was already doing the same thing, drawing Jocco safely onto their speeder. Sarai, meanwhile, swung her speeder back around and parked it in front of the fallen one, shielding the injured two from view. She stood up on the seat and raised a blaster in each hand, lips twisted in a snarl. “Over here you bastards!” she screamed. “Like shooting at children? Give it your best shot!”

“She’s insane,” said Qui-Gon.

“She’s my second in command!” Obi-Wan laughed. “Now get ready! You’re taking the wheel!”

“What?”

Qui-Gon turned his head just in time to see Obi-Wan launch himself off of the moving speeder with reckless grace, executing a Force-augmented leap to land neatly on the ridge. “Kenobi! What are you doing?” Qui-Gon bellowed.

The boy didn’t respond. He had a blaster in his good hand and dropped out of view, directly onto the heads of the people concealed behind the rocks. There were yells; red light flared as weapons went off in rapid succession. Sarai took advantage of the distraction and urged the other two onto her speeder. “Go!” she said.

As soon as they were off, one of the other speeders erupted from the tree-line and swooped in front of her, slowing down enough to allow her to jump aboard behind two smaller children. “Good job kiddos,” Qui-Gon heard her say. Then she looked up at him. “Come on, we have to go!”

“But—Obi-Wan—” he said helplessly.

As he did, Obi-Wan reappeared at the crest of the ridge, a smoking hole in his trouser leg and a bloody furrow over one eye. He looked directly at Qui-Gon and mouthed, ‘Go! Take the others and run, now!’

Then he was gone again.

A pained look crossed Sarai’s face, but she glanced at Jocco sitting on his lap and smoothed it away at once. “He knows what he’s doing,” she said. “Now come on!”

They sped off, trailing dust and a broken wreck, following in the wake of the other speeders far ahead of them.

In the distance, the ship gleamed in the low light, a beacon for them to follow.

The others were waiting for them when they arrived, arranged defensively around the ship, protecting their only mode of transportation. The nameless boy was standing front and center, an adapted blaster rifle in his arms, looking ready to kill anyone who got too near. Jocco ran straight to him.

Sarai helped the other two down and began loading everyone onto the ship, which opened at Qui-Gon’s command.

He and the boy with the rifle waited.

And waited.

The sun set in earnest, and darkness fell.

And still they waited.

“Can you make your appeal to the Senate without him?” Qui-Gon said suddenly.

The young man whipped his head around to look at him. “What?”

“Can you make your appeal without Obi-Wan?”

He sneered. “In his absence, legal responsibility falls to Sarai and me. But it’s not the same.”

“No, it’s not.” Qui-Gon agreed.

There was a brief silence.

“Can you pilot this starship?”

“What?”

Qui-Gon did not repeat himself this time, and the young man’s eyes widened, his grip on his rifle slackening. “You… you want to stay. You want to stay and search for him.”

“You need to leave,” said Qui-Gon quietly. “Can you pilot this starship?”

“My name’s Radan,” the young man said brusquely, extending a grimy hand. “And yeah, between me and Kieln we can figure it out pretty quickly.”

“Good,” said Qui-Gon shaking his hand firmly. “As soon as you exit your first hyperspace jump, contact Master Yoda, it’s all programmed into the system. Tell him what happened.”

He looked again to the shadowed horizon, to the dark smudge several kilometers distant that was the stone ridge where he had last seen Obi-Wan.

“Tell him,” he paused. “…Tell him I am going to stay with my Padawan.”

Radan paused halfway up the ramp, turning to look back, a look of concern crossing his young face. “Even if he’s never going back to the Jedi?” he asked.

Qui-Gon hesitated.

“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we? Obi-Wan is capable of making his own decisions.”

Qui-Gon turned back towards the horizon, towards Obi-Wan.

“But I will not leave him again.”

_

[nypmphetsbastard]

They Both Die in the End

Genre: angst...just angst

Pairings: Eren Yeager x reader

Timeline: season 4 Eren

Summary: SPOILER ALERT! They both die in the end.

Warnings: Smut, angst, major character death, emotional, season 4 warnings do not continue if you’re not caught up with the anime.

A/N: this story is also posted on AO3

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If you could go back to it all, would you? Before Marley, before the war, before the titan shifters, before the fall of Shiganshina, before everything — would you go back? Go back to living peacefully inside the walls of Maria watching eh our next door neighbor Eren and his two other friends run around, too nervous to ask yet watching their games of tag together. Go back to the day the youngest Yeager son noticed you from afar and invited you to play with them. Go back to those days. 

Those final days of peace. If you could go back to it all, would you? Before Marley, before the war, before the titan shifters, before the fall of Shiganshina, before everything — would you go back? Go back to living peacefully inside the walls of Maria watching eh our next door neighbor Eren and his two other friends run around, too nervous to ask yet watching their games of tag together. Go back to the day the youngest Yeager son noticed you from afar and invited you to play with them. Go back to those days. 

Those final days of peace. If you could go back to it all, would you? Before Marley, before the war, before the titan shifters, before the fall of Shiganshina, before everything — would you go back? Go back to living peacefully inside the walls of Maria watching eh our next door neighbor Eren and his two other friends run around, too nervous to ask yet watching their games of tag together. Go back to the day the youngest Yeager son noticed you from afar and invited you to play with them. Go back to those days.  Those final days of peace.

Before it all fell.

Maybe. Maybe you would go back. But you couldn't. No matter how much prayed and wish upon a star, it would never come to pass. You were stuck. You were all stuck. But in a moment like this, you didn't mind being stuck here.

Stuck in his arms, under his broad shoulders and wrapped in your own personal layer of protection. His soft eyelashes laid gently along to top of his cheeks, the dark brown locks you loved so dearly had now grown a little past his chin and his once short and skinny frame had grown significantly since he turned 18.

You tenderly tucked his long hair behind his ear, watching as his eyelashes fluttered open at the lightest touch. It was sad, honestly, how light of a sleeper he'd become. Anyone who knew Eren only now would've laughed at a time he was a heavy sleeper, it was sad, how quickly he had to adapt to constant alert. No longer enjoying his moments of peace and quiet.

A brown broke you out of your thoughts as Eren licked his lips and drubbed the tiredness out of his eyes before sighed and looking down at the person in his arms.

Eren couldn't help but remember the words Jean had once said to him when they were just 15. "How you managed to find someone like that, I will never know. But don't screw it up, because you never know if the next time you'll see them will be on the street or in a body bag." He sighed, reaching his hand over to your cheek, gently caressing the skin.

He knew the two of you would never have a moment like this ever again, that his future will always result in complete anarchy and chaos but that wouldn't stop him from basking in the light that was you.

"Good morning." You giggled, this gentle touch sending shivers up your spine.

"Morning." He whispered back. "We have to get up soon. Captain Levi says we have more Marleyan's coming from the port today."

You sighed and pushed your head closer into his chest, "That's boring...and morbid. I just wanna spend time with you." You whined, Eren chuckled sadly.

"I know...but that doesn't mean we can't make it count now." Eren mumbled, leaning into your neck. You hummed and relaxed in his arms as he began to suck the skin on your neck.

"No hickeys. You know what Levi said about them." You breathed out trying to keep your composure, Eren pulled away with a shit eating grin.

"Whoops." you rolled your eyes at him and let your lips meet in a hungry kiss.

Wandering hands roaming each other's bodies wasn't uncommon between you whenever you got the chance, but no matter how much he touched you, you couldn't help but flinch and gasp into his mouth as he cupped your clothed mound.

"Eren," you pause to take a deep breathe as another moan threatens to escape your reddened lips, "I thought you said we had somewhere to be." You joked lightly.

"Fuck that." He cursed, looking up at you with his dark piercing gaze.

'If these are what Eldian devils look like, I wouldn't mind being a sinner' you thought to yourself.

If Eren Yeager was anything, oblivious was not it. He was always attentive with everything he did. But when the lights dimmed and your legs spread for him, Eren Yeager never missed a spot. Twisting and turning, rubbing and spitting, he'd do anything and everything to hear you let out those breathy moans of his name.

Eren Yeager never had such a good ring to it.

It never took a lot of to have you screaming for him. Eren had mapped out every crevice of your body that sent you shivers, every infinity 8 that had your legs shaking since the first night. He always knew what would have you screaming out in blissful pleasure. Whether it be in pain or pleasure.

"Eren, ah," your shaky hands reach for the scarred back of his past. Nails scratching the surface and painting the once pale canvas a burning red color.

The burning of your thighs was nothing compared to the knot in your stomach that he wouldn't let snap. He massaged your thighs as they sat above his shoulders, finally lifting his head to hear your desperate whines to finish. Lips and chin coated in wetness, he grinned and went right back to work. Your mercy pleas finally reached his ears as one of his hand reached up to grab yours, his other stimulating your most sensitive area to get the exact reaction he wanted.

One that left his shirt and his sheets drenched in you. Words didn't seem to form on your tongue yet he understand everything you needed. Planting a light kiss on your clit, he gently and carefully closed your legs, bringing them back down to earth and laying down on your side.

Once your breathing returned back to normal all you could mutter was a simple, "wow." Eren smirked cockily and grabbed your cheeks, pulling you into a much softer yet passionate kiss.

"I know." not even trying to make a smart comment, you closed your eyes, preparing for your high to end and the uncomfortable feeling of stickiness that filled the sheets, your thigh and your boyfriend's face.

"You have a little something there" you pointed out, pointing to your chin.

"Mhm, really? You made a mess too, want me to clean it up?" A yes caught in your throat as you realized what he was planning and clasped your hand onto his wrist.

"Don't. We still have somewhere to be."

That smile. That damned smile that always caused you nothing but trouble. Trouble in more ways than one.

Mikasa and Armin being the first to arrive on time was never a surprise, however coming after Sasha and Connie was borderline suspicious as those two were never on time...to anything. Connie snickered at the sight of you rushing over to the bench with a piece of bread stuck in your mouth as you tried tucking your shirt into your pants.

You sat down between to Mikasa and Jean, trying your best to not sound like you had ran over here in a hurry, which you had. It was in your best interest to just act like you'd been there the whole time, especially with how meticulous Captain Levi was with scheduling and all that. So you struck up a conversation.

"Hey Mikasa, lovely weather we're having." You spoke up, Mikasa looked up from where her eyes were down casted on her lap and gave you a small smile with a hint of confusion.

"Yes, it is lovely...I guess." She mumbled as her voice trailed off.

You leaned on your arms to look next to Mikasa, "Good morning, Armin." You greeted the blonde.

"Oh, good morning. Have you been there this whole time?" Armin questioned, his answer only causing tithe two snickering twins to laugh even harder.

"No Armin, she was out having a much better morning." Connie mocked, sending Sasha into a laughing fest with a whole piece of bread still lodged in her mouth. Armin look confused but shrugged it off and went back to drawing in his sketch book, a stress reliving habit he'd picked up after that day at the sea.

You kicked Connie in the shins and smiled at his hiss of pain and dramatic leg holding, Sasha joining in on your laughs until you kicked her too. She whined and rubbed her shin.

"Hey! I didn't even say anything!" She protested and you laughed at her, not noticing Mikasa's sharp gaze on you.

"Where's Eren?" Mikasa asked

"Commander Hange asked him to stay behind to prep beforehand. Why?"

"So I can ask him to leave your fun in the bedroom, respectfully." She smirked, pointing at the hickey on your neck. Your eyes widened at Mikasa's amused expression and tried to cover the deep red and purple stain with your hand. Jean snickered from next to you, using the magazine he very clearly wasn't using to cover up his puffed cheeks preventing him from laughing.

Everyone's favorite duo however, did not get the memo as they bursted out into a fit of laughter. Their pale cheeks turning bright pink as they leaned on each other for support, nearly throwing the other off the bench. You groaned and dropped your head onto the hardwood table, drowning in embarrassment.

The scouts had always loved to tease you and Eren at any given chance. Connie and Sasha being especially guilty of this, but even Mikasa loved to poke and prod at the two of you, making jokes of her own.

Mikasa has been your best friend since childhood, her love for both you and Eren only doubled in size when the two of you officially got together when you were 15. She was there for you after every failed mission, after every argument, or even when you just needed girl talk. Even if she never seemed the most emotionally capable person, Mikasa Ackerman was never wrong. She's somebody everybody could rely on, whether that he for protection or just as a friend, she was always there.

Always there to buy the constantly hungry Sasha snacks as you and many other scouts arrived to Marley in disguise. While Sasha basked at the taste of new foods, your eyes roamed the crowded city, trying your best not to push anyone. Then, your eyes landed on a familiar head of hair that stood at the edge of the port, looking off into the distance.

"Hey..." you spoke up before gently sliding your hand on his shoulder, a habit you picked up on because of how guarded Eren constantly is. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I think so." He mumbled, turning his body to face you directly and placing his hands on your shoulders, "Are you?" He questioned

"Mhm. This person dressed up as a clown mistook Captain Levi for a child and I think he actually might've traumatized the man." You joked, laughing at the past occurrence.

Although he didn't laugh, Eren smiled at your happiness, mentally taking a picture of this moment to hold onto later on.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing?" Levi interrogated, snatching the arm of a young boy who stood beside a clueless Sasha. You and Eren made your way through the commotion of people spewing out hateful words at the boy as they tried to figure out a brutal punishment for the child.

Sasha laughed nervously and lied for him, claiming he was just her younger sibling messing around, narrowly avoiding having the child nearly killed for his crime. The boy apologized profusely and thanked them for saving him from impending doom before running off with his younger brother. You smiled softly at the child as he ran off before noticing your boyfriend looking at him with longing and sadness.

"Eren? Hey, what's wrong?" You asked softly, reached over to place your hand on his cheek. He blinked and shook his head.

"Nothing, let's go."

Those next days, that very child had offered you and the scouts a place to rest your heads. Providing you all food, drinks and even alcohol which only ended in disaster and Sasha hunched over a bucket puking her guts out.

In your arms that night laid a tired Eren, his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat and feeling your chest rise up and down, mentally making sure you continued to do that. And as you slept soundly, the sharp burning sensation in his nose became too much to bear, Eren's tears silently fell.

They fell for the memories, or rather the premonition of his future. His cursed future.

They fell for the child he once was. A little boy who wanted nothing more than to prove himself and to his parents that he could go beyond, that he could be free in the world he was born into. A little boy who laughed and loved with his parents, his friends, and the little girl next door who he swore to his mother he'd marry. An innocent little boy.

They fell for his friends. The only people he couldn't live without no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise. Not just you, Mikasa and Armin — but Connie, Sasha, Jean, Historia and even Levi and Hange. He lived everyday of his life for the sake of them, for them to live their lives as freely as possible, for them to live the life he would never be able to.

For the days like before as they all worked on building the port. Sweaty, tired and burning arms as they all hauled ass into the half built train tracks and finally got a moment to relax.

"Make a base in Marley and infiltrate it, huh?"

"Hange sure has a plan for everything. I'll be able to show down on some real Marleyan cuisine." Sasha replied, her mind already lost a sea of new foods but you smiled at her enthusiasm

"Yeah? What should I bring? It would stink to get the runs."

"Stomach medicine, toothbrush, a taste of home..." Sasha listed off

"Did you even hear Hange's plan?" Mikasa questioned

"If the world knows that we want peace, maybe something will change." Armin suggested hopefully.

"Armin, you know I love the way you think but...not everyone thinks like you. Even the Marleyans we have here are still hot headed over us just existing in the same space as them, they don't seem like very peaceful people in my opinion." You spoke up, Armin sighed and nodded as a small moment a silence waved over you all.

"If only we had more time. I've got just over five years left. We're gonna have to decide who inherits my Titan soon." Eren brought up, a new point but not one that hadn't crossed all your minds.

"I will" Mikasa attempted to step up

"Not you. We still don't know what the Ackermanns are. And won't it hurt any plans with Hizuru if you become a Titan? No, for so many reasons." Jean dismissed, Mikasa looked down sadly, feeling as though there was nothing she could do to help.

"Then who will?" She snapped, you placed you hand over hers and gave her heartwarming smile before leaning your head on her shoulder in a means to calm her down.

"Me. First of all, I'm way smarter than Eren. Instead of a suicidal maniac, you'll have a gifted leader who shows good judgement in all situations. In other words, me." He concluded in his bashful statements. "I hate getting an Eren hand-me-down but who better than me?"

"Someone that amazing we don't wanna lose in 13 years, moron." Connie cursed, you snickered and nodded.

"He's right, Jean. All those things you just said about yourself are true, which is why we need you one hundred percent human and intact for over 13 years. You're too good of a leader to lose now." you explained, Jean groaned in annoyance.

"You're aiming to be regiment leader. I'll inherit Eren's Titan. It works out good, right?"

"Connie..." Eren faltered, slightly surprised at the high and dangerous position Connie was willing to take.

"That's not good at all. You're an idiot." Sasha replied

"Eh?"

"Don't 'eh' me. We can't leave such an important role up to an idiot."

"Eh?" Connie continued, still shocked.

"Doggone it...I'll inherit it. I've got combat experience...I'm someone you can trust...By process of elimination, it's gotta be me." Sasha divulged, you lifted your head from Mikasa's shoulder and raised your hand.

"Um hello? I'm still here." You said sarcastically,

"I know but Eren's your boyfriend and I find it pretty morbid if you were forced to eat your lover for the sake of humanity so, by default, it has to be me!"

"You guys..." Eren mumbled, going unnoticed as Sasha continued her rambling.

"I dun wanna. I sure dun wanna though." Sasha trembled, the mere thought of everything Titan shifters had to go through repeating in her head on loop.

"Wait, huh? Isn't that weird?" Connie spoke up again

"What?"

"Well you know...you said an idiot's not fit for the role." Sasha raised an eyebrow at him, still confused, "You're more of an idiot than I am, so you're contradicting yourself." As Connie finished his explanation, the two exchanged Huh's and watched each other dramatically.

"Moral of the story, you're both idiots." You stood up from the hard box, "I'll inherit the Titan. Who knows maybe I'll be the first super sexy female attack Titan. Like Annie." You thought out loud

"You think Annie's Titan is hot?" Jean asked incredulously, you put one finger up and shushed him, not wanting to discuss the topic further.

"No. I don't want any of you to inherit it." Eren stated, "And especially not you." He looked at you.

"Oh come on, once you die I'll have nothing to live for. Besides, I don't wanna be old anyway." You shrugged nonchalantly, Eren shook his head.

"No! You guys are more important to me. More than anyone else. So, I want you to have long lives and..." he looked at you again, "when I die...I want you to move on—"

You cut him off with a scoff and grabbed your makeshift seat, dropping it next to his. "No, that's bullshit. I won't accept that." You protested

"So, what? You're just gonna wallow about me the rest of your life without even trying to do anything better?"

"Yes! That's exactly what I'm gonna do." Eren scoffed at your answer and shook his head.

"I'm serious." He snapped

"So am I! I don't wanna start a family some random person I know I'll never love. I don't want a home if it's not with you, Eren." you objected, "So, if worse comes to worst, i'll inherit your Titan." Eren sighed, already knowing he would never change your mind once it was made up.

"Bleh, keep the cute sappy stuff in the bedroom guys." Jean complained, lightening up the mood in the cart as everyone chucked lightly.

"Best get used to it, Kirstein." You swung your arm over Eren's shoulder, "I'm not leaving this Earth without my man." You said proudly, the boy blushing at your words.

My man. That's all he ever wanted to be to you. Yours. For now and forever, he didn't care if he had to trample anyone and everyone in his path, Eren would do anything to keep that title in your heart.

There was a point in time once when he thought of growing a family with you. Even though he felt he wouldn't be the best father in the world, he couldn't help but grasp at any straws that led to a happy ending with you.  Maybe in another life, he always thought to himself.

Another life where you were all free. Where all of you could be real teenagers, go to a normal high school, have normal life and live a full life. Where Ymir, Bertolt, Erwin and everybody else didn't have to die for the sake of everyone else. Where all of you could get a full nights sleep without constantly having to watch your back.

Yeah...another life sounded like bliss.

But another life is not what you had, what you had now was war.

A war none of you were prepared for. None except Eren, who proudly and happily pounded into the face of the war hammer Titan, not leaving any room for full transformations. Even as he became outnumbered with all odds against him, he was granted his final words in which he uttered a simple.

"It's now or never, Mikasa."

Unleashing all scouts in hiding as they rose up, dropping thunder spears into the Marleyan soldiers and aiding Eren in his fight. Bodies and bombs dropped left and right as Mikasa crouched down next to her best friend.

"Eren...Do you have any idea what you've done? You killed civilians, you killed children, too. You've done things that can't be undone." She pleaded with him, trying to see even a glimmer of sympathy in his eyes and yet there was none to be found.

"She's mad at you...you know that?" She tried once more, finally getting a hint of a reaction out of Eren. That reaction lasted only a millisecond and the hurt in his eyes was once again replaced with a look of dullness and lackluster of his usual bright blue ones.

He looked away, "She can be mad all she wants, it makes no difference to me. The fight isn't over." Mikasa gasped at the sight of the war hammer she'd just took down moments before standing right back up on its feet. And a constant pitter patter hit the back of her head at Eren's words.

How quickly he shoved aside your feelings and put his own before it, a rare thing Eren had never done before. But for now, your job in all this was to stay alive.

You assisted in as much combat as possible before making your way back into the airship along with the rest of the remaining scouts. Being the first to arrive on the ship meant biting your nails in anxiety as you waiting for everyone else to reach it. Armin reached down for the boy he once thought to be his best friend, pulling him up into the ship.

Just like the old days, Levi Ackerman had a couple kicks in store for Eren, not hesitating to remind him of how much he changed. Even bringing up his past in the underground and the dirty look Eren had grown into, never expecting to see it on the boy he gave up everything for. As much as it much as it hurt to see Eren being kicked around like a rag doll, you wouldn't get in the middle, especially knowing what he'd just done.

The lives he ended, the irreparable damage he had caused, it all gave Levi more than enough reason to toss him around. You, on the other hand, didn't make an effort to speak to him.

And for Eren, that was okay. If it would change anything, Eren would make you hate him for the rest of your life. If it would change anything, Eren could've saved Sasha. If it could change anything, Eren would restart everything and never invite you to play tag with him. He would steer clear from you at all costs. He would let you marry some townsman, have a couple kids and grow old inside the walls, never to be a witness of all the atrocities outside of them.

If Eren can change anything, he will make sure you stay alive. No matter who or what gets in his way, whether he has to tear down every wall or speak to Ymir Fritz her damn self, Eren Yeager will save you from death.

Eren Yeager will not leave this godforsaken earth without his woman.

[mellowshipsu]

Hii! I want to be shipped in twst! i'm the quite and introverted type of person, but i'm very mischievous and misleading to other people, tricking them and falling for it. i'm also pretty artistic!! i love and make art, my type of music is metal rock and orchestra. im very moody btw.

my love languange is just literally saying ily every 5 seconds at random moments (lol), and physical affection (shy on it tho)

Mischievous you are, you're quite a catch.

Stoic and quiet, almost like a cat.

A dutiful artist who goes at their own pace.

You caught the eye of the freshman---

Ace!

(image by: ikathousandflowers)

Ace Trappola first noticed you when he was practicing painting magic with Deuce. You were sketching under the tree when he accidentally casted paint on you and your sketchbook! You were understandably upset and got up and yelled at the two boys with tears teasing your eyes. Filled with guilt, the two boys attempted to apologize but you stubbornly walked away and threw your ruined sketchbook in the trash. Ace dug it up from the trash and found your name written in it and what dorm you were from. He then saw your amazing sketches and thought you had a lot of talent. Still filled with guilt he went to Heartslabyul to see Riddle or Trey could clean it with magic. Ace explained what happened and Trey helped clean it with magic, while Riddle of course scolded him for what he had done. Trey gave the sketchbook back, good as new! Now Ace just needed to find you and give it back.

The next day Ace looked for you all over the school and finally found you listening to music in the library. He approached you carefully and poked your shoulder. Once earning your attention, he gave you your book back and apologized. He then gifted you charcoal pencils to make amends. You smiled and thanked him. No one ever went to great lengths to apologize to you before. Ace then sat next to you saying he needed to study anyway, but in truth he just wanted to talk to you more. He asked to listen to what you were listening to. So by his surprise he found out you liked heavy metal. It wasn't quite his taste so he respectfully gave you back your headphones. You chuckled at him and continued studying with him next to you.

The next few days he started to hang out with you more and his feelings for you grew. On Valentine's Day you made him some chocolate, which he cherished and ate almost instantly. So for White Day he bought you concert tickets for the heavy metal band you liked, with him as your date of course. At the concert you enjoyed yourself and Ace was vibing till he got caught up in a moshpit and got pretty banged up. After the concert you helped walk him back to the dorm because he had the wind knocked out of him and could barely walk. Trey and Cater were waiting at the door and when they saw Ace they laughed. The two went to take him away but before they did, you kissed Ace's cheek and bid him goodnight. His cheeks flushed red as his senpais took him inside to rest.

"Hey hey! You need a handsome muse to draw? Well I'm here if you need one! ... Huh!? What do you mean I'm not handsome enough!? ... Oh you're kidding. You almost hurt my feelings you know?"

[honey-milk-depresso]

So Cater and Tey, oh ma gosh I love them so much! They make me not lonely, they make me UGHHHH. I want to be their woman! I will cook and clean and look RESPECTFULLY! They just make me happy and I want more Cater cards because I don’t have much 😭 cater please give me more your your cards!!! And they Trey!!! I’ve been leveling him up to put him on my main team!! I’ve got some OC x Cater sketch’s in my sketch book because he just makes me happy and I have a few Try sketch’s because Treys Love and Life! Me and cater have a dislike for sweet foods too 😫😫😫😫😫

I just wanna hug them make them foods and everything, I’m going to my sketch’s now sorry this is short 😄👋

YES CATER NEEDS LOVE-

His sisters are really mean, so he needs some real love and care and support! <3

And TREYYYYYY DJHGDDDFDHFDFHGDFGDFGDG BOY-

IMMA WASTE ALL MY GEMS ON TREY DAMNIT-

FOR HIS BIRTHDAY CARD-

I REMEMBERED I SCREAMED WHEN I GOT HIS SSR DORM UNIFORM CARD I LEGIT- MY MOM SCOLDED ME THOUGH :')))))

HE IS A BEAUTIFUL, TALENTED, KIND HEARTED AND SLIGHTLY SADISTIC MANNN

TT o TT

[starlitwhispers]

saccharine. soulsilvershipping - 2400 words A flavorless au by yours truly. happy quarter century birthday to my boo @silverbuttercups

Heat. Pounding heat. Warmth beating into his cheeks like the summer sun, except it was her instead. He can’t get it to work, he just can’t. The paints keep meshing and clumping; it’s like his sweat is mixing with the acrylics. And it’s all her fault, because she won’t get off his mind. The idea of her sits atop his head, weighing him down — it’s like he can’t breathe. The air, it’s thinning, he’s panting, the taste of her skin is flashing back into his mind — he’s panting, remembering the feeling of her panting back onto him. His mind races, his heart races, time seems like it’s elapsing faster than the speed of light —

He breaks out of his trance. The drops of sweat trickle down his scrawny biceps and a wet stain darkens the front of his dirty, yellow and faded wife-beater. He’s alone. It’s just him as he glances around his disgusting, cluttered studio. Musty, dusty, he peers at the ivory, canvas curtains by the window, and watches the specks of dirt and grime waft through the air in the beams of light peeking through the cracks. He sits in silence, redirecting his eyes to his easel once more. Trash, he thinks at first, looking at the mess of paints and lines, how there’s no depth and no character. The brown he chose doesn’t match… it’s not the right shade. Absolute trash.

Blinking, he thinks again. He does not know what day it is, or month even. Now that he no longer works in that dingy office, contact with the rest of the world has vanished. He makes his way out of the studio, trudges down the hallway and walks right past the master bedroom. The master bedroom that has been tightly shut for more than a year. All the blinds, everywhere, in every window, they are closed. Ready to-microwave meal boxes pile in the trash bin and even fleck across his kitchen floor and countertops. Not a dish in sight, except for used scotch glasses with empty bottles not too far behind. His bed, the couch, has multiple blankets sprawled across it and a coffee table in front full of trash. His eyes focus on the trash, or more specifically, the crumpled up balls of his sketch pad paper. The balls of paper could be found as far as the corners of the kitchen floor, behind the counter and by the fridge.

He has quite the arm, although he appears thin. His strength multiplies with his frustration and anger. He sits himself in a rather indented spot on the couch, less cushioned than the rest of the sofa from months of his weight pressed in this one area. His hand reaches for the remote and turns on the television, afterwards he fixes himself a glass of scotch in a used glass nearby and his fingers shimmy their way into his back pocket. From within, his index and middle fingers pull out a cigarette box. He shoves a smoke between his dry lips and lights it. Between the alcohol and the nicotine, it’s just enough.

Just enough to get the taste of her out of his mouth. For now.

He sits back as he watches the afternoon news. He stares at the journalist’s lips, sees how they curve into coy smiles as she laughs at the corny jokes the daily anchorman voices over into her ear. Just another normal girl, reporting normal things, in her normal life, he observes. Disgusting, he reflects, a normal life is disgusting.

He huffs the cigarette smoke towards the living room ceiling, shutting his eyes. Reminiscing the day he first moved into the home, how bright, clean, and airy it felt then. It’s almost as if everything else in the house is a shell of its former self… including him. A couple envelopes shoot through the golden lips of his front door — today’s mail has arrived — he thinks about the stacks of mail piling by his front door. He makes a faint guess she has not changed her mailing address on some things yet, which gives him false hope on good days or this burning misery that perhaps she has moved on in more ways than one. Changed her name? Married? Then again, she never came back for any of her other belongings. Maybe she already had a back up plan set in motion.

But the truth is, he never saw it coming. Perhaps that is what makes the stinging pain after all this time feel so fresh. What was that, she said a long time ago? That she loved him? He sniggers at himself, at his stupidity, at his unfulfilling life that he tirelessly plays out everyday. At the end of his frumpy sofa, his cellphone rings. Or, at least, he feels the vibrations.

In foolish—hopeless—optimism, he shoves his fist into the edge of the couch digging around for the device. Frantically, he drudges it up from the crevice, along with stray hairs and crumbs, and his eyes yearningly glance over the caller ID. His heart falls beneath the pits of his stomach. It’s just his PR agent. Disappointed, he declines the call and tosses his phone onto the coffee table. He stares at it, somewhat in disbelief and somewhat dismayed with himself for even hoping for it. For her.

By the moment the sun sets, he fiddles with his phone, his finger hovering over the dial button on her number… Of course, he does not call her. He shoves the device into his back pocket. Of course, by the moment the sun sets, he has finished another bottle and another pack. And he has passed out on the living room sofa, again. In a drunken stupor, he awakens, angry, and storms the hallway to his studio. Throwing a blank canvas to the easel, he begins his work once again until dawn. And in this instance, he allows the idea of her to drown him, flood his lungs like the oils and acrylics starting to spatter his body, until all he breathes is the image of her. An exposé of his love, his hatred, his loneliness. They have banned nudity everywhere except the museums.

Wasn’t that their first date? A museum? He stops mid-stroke and clutches his brush a little tighter. He tries to remember, when was the last time he was in a museum?

…Just like the day before, the sun begins to peak through his blinds, but this time, the work before him satisfies. His paint covered fingers nestle their way into his pocket, he presses the dial key and lifts the phone to his ear. The recipient of his call picks up.

The voice on the other end starts, “Hey, dude, I’ve been trying to reach you—”

“I’ve got something good,” the artists interrupts.

“Well, why didn’t you say so earlier?! I’ll be over later to check it out.”

----

“And, that’s all the time we have for today, love,” her producer tells her from the side as the cameraman lowers the device from his shoulder.

She sighs, scratches the back of her ear, and smiles in unison with a nod. A small drop of sweat trickles from her temple, why does she have to be the on-scene reporter today? She saunters to the news channel’s van and with its open side door, she scoops a cold water bottle from the mini cooler. The sun continues to beat down on her rose-tinted cheeks. The buzzing of cicadas whiz through her ears and into her thoughts… some guy from work had asked her out for drinks later tonight, but suddenly she’s feeling a raincheck about to be typed on her phone.

She’s not ready yet. How can she be? Her right hand absentmindedly finds its way to her other hand, brushing over her now naked ring finger. A shame, really, that it didn’t work out. She really wishes it would have.

“You can head home now, of course,” her producer begins. “Do you need a ride home?”

“No, thank you,” she respectfully declines. “I think I’ll walk home.”

The staff executive eyes her in confusion, as she clearly does not enjoy the summer heat. He shrugs his shoulders in defeat, “Whatever floats your boat, honey.”

The young brunette collects her bag from the van and stuffs her hand into it, rummaging for make-up remover wipes. She takes out her compact and begins cleansing her face. If she plans to walk home, she would rather not be recognized. However unfortunate people may see it, her occupation does come with some less than desired fans. To top off her “disguise,” she removes the hair clip, lets her hair down and places a pair of sunglasses over her eyes.

On her way home, she stops by a local café for refreshment and a boost of energy. Sitting for a moment in the air conditioned shop, she takes frequent sips of her hazelnut iced coffee.

“Have you seen the new exhibition at the museum yet?” She overhears two young students chat with each other. “It’s honestly incredible.”

“Really? I guess I’ll have to check it out later today. Who’s it by?” The other voice asks.

She finally takes the last sip through the straw, and the liquid slurps from the leftover ice.

“Oh, uh… I forget his name… He was really popular a few years ago, though,” the first voice falters.

The young reporter stands up, slugs her bag strap over her shoulder, and heads for the door.

“Uh, Silver, something?” The first voice remembers. “He’s actually supposed to be at the exhibition today, doing an expository with some press over his inspiration and meaning.”

As the bell rings with her opening the door, she throws her empty cup into the trash followed by an exuberant “thank you for coming!” from the barista behind the counter.

She did not hear the last part from the student in the café.

In her trek home, she stops in front of the museum. In the pit of her stomach, she feels bubbling. Her intestines become upset from anxiety and emotions she wished to never feel again flash back into her senses. That feeling, of dread somehow turned into addictive ecstasy, floods into her veins, and her feet compel her to enter against her better judgment.

As she passes through all the marble walls, the scent of the canvases and oil paintings make her heart race and palms sweat. She anticipates something bad will happen, as something bad always happened when they were together.

All his rough yelling, all their petty disagreements over the things she wanted and the things he did not want, all the noise of hatred bred from what she promised to be forever with him. Stopping to admire a piece, she realizes that has become far from reality. Forever with him… part of her wishes she could go back and part of her desires ever so strongly to never see him again.

In the depth of these paint strokes, she observes and ruminates. What if she were to return and to feel his cracked, warm lips against hers? The sweat of his red hairs behind his neck as they pressed their bodies together, hearing his grunts.

She swallows. She’s warm at the thought of someone she hasn’t touched in almost three years. Being his wife isn’t the worst thing she has done when she thinks about the things they have done together in bed… Her tongue wets the bottom lip and she bites down. This is wrong, she thinks to herself, she left him for a reason. A good reason.

All the miserable nights, the crying, the loneliness. She cannot see him again. If she sees him again, it might sway her. She may want him back. She cannot see him again.

She wants him back.

—--

Here he stands, a month after the original piece he produced in a drunk, inspired stupor, with a brand new exhibition. His agent clinks a glass of champagne to the drink in his own hand, a smile plastered all over his consultant’s face. Of course there is a smile all over his face, the work he has promoted to the city has doubled the money in his pockets. Although the actual artist himself could care less for the revenue. He glances around the section of the gallery that has been sectioned off for exclusively his exhibition and the expository conference.

In his mind, the worst part of this event has ended. The few cameras and interviewers have left and now only art dealers, consultants, and critics remain. The moment he realizes he can slip away to breathe on his own, without being bombarded by awful, intrusive questions he can’t be bothered to answer, he does so. The other areas of the museum are far quieter and the company of the crowd makes his scotch taste bad. As he takes small, frequent sips with each step, he would much rather be drunk at home away from all these people.

He has finally done something he promised himself he wouldn’t ever do again: create art inspired by her. That alone makes him want to become blackout wasted. Or so he thought. He stops in his tracks as he downs the last drop of his drink. I should have just grabbed the damn bottle.

Standing a couple feet from him, peering into a painting, the nightmare from hell that dragged him down under and left him there. Dropping the glass in his hand, he doesn’t think much before his body moves towards her—all the anger manifested inside of him—she quickly becomes aware of his on-coming presence, surprised by the sound of broken glass and his person, and he grabs her by the shoulders.

Forcing her against the wall, she still stares wide-eyed in shock and he does not to hesitate to press his mouth against hers with ferocity. Her eyes still agape, he slips his tongue in quickly and gruffly releases her from his grip. He stares down into her eyes with disdain and she stares back with confusion.

“Silver, I—“ she begins, her voice somewhat hoarse from surprise.

But his expression silences her. He brutishly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and turns away from her. He starts walking away.

In that swift instance, he realizes.

He does not want her back.

[emiewritesthings]

locked down with you (1)- jay halstead

jay halstead x fem!reader

summary: a series of scenarios between y/n and jay whilst they quarantine together

requested?: nope but requests are open :)

warnings: language but basically just fluff

a/n: still being in lockdown has made me think about what it would be like to be living with jay during these times. the following is just a strange combinations of scenarios i have thought about. not sure i how i feel about them :/

masterlist

day 1 of lockdown

“is that the last box?” jay called out as he reappeared from his room with a sweaty brow and a large smile on his face. he wasn’t sure if he would ever get used to seeing your clothes hung up beside his own in his wardrobe, or your shows lined up beside his by the door. it was strange, but it felt... natural.

“i think so, wow is it sad that my whole life can be packed up into 5 boxes?” y/n asked, collapsing onto the sofa breathing out heavily. jay let out a small chuckle, before he joined her, melting into the cushions that supported their bodies. 

“well that’s not true, that was just your clothes, you still have an entire apartment of things waiting for you back home.” he corrected, with a smug smile pointed. the pad of it flicking her nose, making a childish giggle escape her parted lips. “but who knows by the end of this thing you might need to bring those over too.” jay hummed, leaning closer to her with lustful eyes. in a matter of seconds, his lips pressed lazy kisses against her neck, the sensation taking y/n’s body to a new level of euphoria

“just give it a week, halstead. you will be so sick of me you will have to kick me out.” she challenged, watching as he pulled his lips away from her skin for a moment. allowing their foreheads to rest against one another, eyes both equalling challenging the other to make the next mood. in a moment of weakness, it had been y/n to lean forward, igniting the warmth in their chest. 

“if anything, i don’t think i will be able to let you go.” his breaths were rugged, only parting to say the last few words before he reconnected their lips. his hands respectfully running over her body, admiring the way it curved and held its unique shape. 

he sure could get used to this.

--

day 3 of lockdown

“jay!” y/n whined impatiently as she threw her head back to demonstrate just how tired she was becoming. a strange ache running up her spine from the position she was currently sat in. her back arched as she rested against the arm of the sofa. her fingers pinching a pencil as she looked between her sketchpad and the angelic man sat a few centimetres away. “i thought i told you not to move.” 

jay’s eyes narrowed in confusion, as he looked up from the pile of paperwork he had to complete by the end of the day. seeing his girlfriend sat in a large hoodie that she had stolen from their wardrobe and a pair of shorts, a look of boredom and frustration etched on her features, he had to question what the hell was going on.

“what are you talking about?” jay asked, in all honesty, he had been so focused on his work that he had tuned the woman out. from the look of art supplies spread over the floor, he could only assume she was occupying her day off with fulfilling her craving to be artistic. 

“you know what, it doesn’t even matter anymore,” she sighed, closing up the book in her hands. “it was stupid anyway.” she muffled into the sleeve of her sweater, attempting to walk out of the living room towards the kitchen, a place she had labelled her ‘happy place’ from the moment she stepped into the apartment. slight guilt seeped into jay’s mind as he pushed himself away from the sofa cushions and wrapped her up in his bulky, warm arms.

“i’m sorry.” he apologised, arms trapping her in what only could be described as a bear hug. from her small frame, jay managed to rest his chin on the top of her head, until he brought his face down to kiss her cheek softly. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” he repeated between each.

y/n felt her mood slightly, reminding herself of the effect the man had on her. she felt like mush in his hands that he was able to sculpt in whatever way he wanted and she had no objections. 

“now what do we have here?” he spoke more to himself as he took the sketchpad from her hands, his fingers playing with the edge of the pages until he stopped on a page with a rather large sketch. the pencil lines were faint, but it didn’t take jay a moment to recognise the large image illustrated on the page. “holy shit, y/n.”

feeling her cheeks heat up, she tried to hide her face with her sleeves. she didn’t like to share her work with anyone, with fear that she would be laughed out of the room. but listening to jay’s taken aback tone made the butterflies in her stomach jump without any consideration for y/n’s wellbeing.

“i know it’s not the best, but-.” she attempted to denounce her clear display of talent by breaking out the embrace, but jay only held onto her tighter. using what control he had to turn her around to face him. he had placed the sketch on the coffee table, so he could focus fully on the beautiful woman standing in front of him.

“it’s amazing,” jay assured, his gaze diving deep into the soul present behind the beautiful colours of y/n’s eyes. “you are amazing, i’m sorry i’m so busy.” y/n didn’t need an apology. she knew that jay’s job was much more demanding than her own. it just seemed being forced to do nothing didn’t feel as good as when she chose to do nothing before any of this quarantine business was mentioned. 

“do you want some help?” she offered, not wanting to intrude. her teeth brought in her bottom lip to bite in anticipation worried she had crossed the line. jay’s hand reached up to rest on the side of her face, his thumb resting on her chin as he brought it down to rescue her lip.

“you are the best, you know that?” 

“ugh, come on, romeo.” 

day 9 of lockdown

“okay-.” y/n began as she entered the bedroom, her body wrapped in a towel and her hair leaving water droplets behind her. it was sometime in the late afternoon and jay was laying on their bed. his attention had been caught by a book y/n had brought, but it had been stolen when she had entered the room.

“i don’t know what you’re about to say but i know it’s going to be a bad idea.” jay discouraged, he knew her. he knew her more than anyone else in this world. the way her voice had raised slightly at the end and she was currently avoiding eye contact with the detective, telling him that she was about to make to offer a foolish plan.

“no fair, you have to at least hear me out!” she whined like a child, searching around for her bras that were normally flung in different directions, thanks to a little too happy detective. jay watched her with a loving grin, she made him feel so alive. 

“okay, proceed.” he gestured as though he was king of the castle ordering his servants around. flicking her middle finger up at the man, disappearing into the bathroom once again, but her voice could still be made out.

“i want to dye my hair!” jay couldn’t see her face, but he could imagine the little hop she had done in excitement at telling him about her idea. “or maybe shave my head, you know, since lockdown could go on for the rest of the year, it’s not like anyone will see it.” 

letting out a deep chuckle, he waited until she reappeared to respond. her body, cladded in sweats (for once ones that belonged to her), collapsed down beside him. curling into the side of his body. she stared up at him dazedly, trying to read the thoughts behind his eyes.

“it’s your body, your choice,” he shrugged, his right hand coming to his side so he could grab ahold of her own. when interlocking their fingers, he made sure to run his thumb over her knuckles comforting. “i don’t care if you shaved off all your hair and your eyebrows whilst wearing a potato sack, you will always be beautiful to me.” 

“i love you.” she hummed, leaning up to kiss his lips.

“i love you too.” 

--

day 16 of lockdown

“y/n hurry up it’s on!” y/n heard as she grabbed a few beers from the fridge. as she reached the living room, she grinned at the sight of kevin, kim, adam, will, natalie on the computer screen. 

“hey guys!” she squealed, giving jay a beer before putting the rest on the coffee table that the computer currently rested on. 

“oh shit, now i owe kevin 10 bucks.” adam whined, his image slightly pixelated from his poor connection. frowning, y/n looked towards jay that was equally as confused. they then turned their gaze towards kevin, who wore a large smug smirk.

“ruzek here betted me 10 bucks that you two would have killed one another by day 14.” y/n let out a snort of laughter, throwing her head back in amusement. of course, kevin had bet in their corner, had it not been for him, jay and y/n wouldn’t have been together in the first place. 

“honestly i wouldn’t have blamed you, y/n,” will spoke up, “it takes a saint to deal with jay’s slobbiness. i think i have only ever seen jay clean his room twice, mom always took pity on him.” will chuckled, making jay cower in embarrassment. y/n had seen first-hand jay’s ability to create a mess in a matter of minutes. a stray sock here, an empty pizza box there. before she knew it, they were eligible for Hoarders USA. 

“shut up, will, are we starting this quiz or what?” jay changed the subject, trying to get over the embarrassment of being laughed at by their closest friends. in an attempt to cool him down, y/n hooked her pinky around his. offering him a soft smile when he looked up in her direction.

“hope you guys are ready to lose.” she teased, turning back to face the screen. jay watched the way she acted so freely, a kind smile never slipping from her face, her touch soothing his soul. at that moment he couldn’t help but think ‘this will be the woman i marry’

--

day 34 of lockdown

“-alright, alright i think he’s on his way. i’ll see you later.” y/n rushed out as she jumped off her position sat on the edge of the bed. her heartbeat was thumping against her chest as she shoved her phone back into her pocket, aware the sound of water had fallen silent. 

it was jay’s birthday and y/n had been planning it for the past two weeks. unfortunately, it was well known that y/n y/l/n was awful keeping secrets. it was as though when she knew something, good or bad, she felt an immense amount of pressure, which ended in her exploding and spilling all to the one person she normally wasn’t meant to. but she was determined that this would be like the other times. she had gone the extra mile in avoiding conversation with jay, knowing one slip and her whole plan was ruined. 

“hey, baby!” jay yelled, y/n’s body jumped in shock. his footsteps growing nearer until he appeared in front of him. his muscled torso on show as his bottom half was hidden away by a large grey towel. jay noticed y/n’s jumpy behaviour immediately, his eyes drawing nearer as he examined her face. “what’s wrong?”

“wrong? with me? pfft, nothing’s wrong with me. absolutely nothing. w-what’s wrong with you?” she rushed out, leaning her weight against the dressing table until her hand slipped and she quickly caught herself before hitting her head on the wood. jay shook his head in amusement, he had been worried for the past few days that he had upset the woman. she was unusually quiet, which normally indicated that something was wrong, considering she hated silence. 

“doesn’t matter.” 

seeing jay withdraw from her made her want to reach out, but her mind already ticked over to something else. running into the guest room, she reappeared with a shoe-like box. not knowing what to say, she shoved the box in his direction innocently. jay pecked her lips lightly, taking the box and taking a seat as he ripped the sparkly paper she had found in a random drawer.

removing the box lid, he peered into the box with curiosity. in a matter of seconds the teasing look fell from his face, replaced with a loss of words. in the box resided memories that up until that moment had been in the back of jay’s mind. letters that the pair had sent back and forth all those years ago when he had been enlisted in afghanistan. photos from jay’s police academy graduation, dates, christmases anything that held a sentimental feeling y/n wished to recreate. 

“y-you kept all this stuff?” he asked, his fingers grabbing a small blue teddy bear that’s fur was slightly matted from the dust that had tainted its texture and colour. the very bear y/n had brought jay the time he had broke his arm back when they were kids, she had forced her mother to buy the bear from the giftshop knowing that it would cheer the boy up. she was right, of course she was right.

“of course i did,” she whispered, resting her chin on his shoulder, watching him study each individual object. “throwing away any of this stuff made me feel like i was throwing a bit of us, you know?” y/n felt stupid, but only the slight blush on her cheeks gave it away to anyone that looked close enough.

“thank you, thank you for everything.” snaking his arms around her, he brought his chest close to his chest. sometimes he felt like they were still the kids that would climb through each other’s windows just so they could hold one another and remind the other they weren’t alone. “i love you so much, i’m so happy i have you in my life.” 

the tears brimming in y/n’s eyes were not missed by the detective, he didn’t miss anything she did. she was like art to him, something beautiful, at times a little misunderstood, but beautiful nevertheless. lifting his head to connect their lips, the two took their time, slowly allowing the lust to push its way through. before it could progress any further a loud blare made them jump apart.

“what the-.” jay began, watching as y/n pushed her way off the seat and running out the door. hesitantly he followed, leading his way out of the house until he found y/n grinning childishly. 

“happy birthday, man!” pulling his eyes away from his girl, he found the familiar cars driving slowly down the road. the lights on the large black cars blaring as kevin leaned out the front car, whilst adam and kim leaned out the second. with the confusion seeping into the feeling of surprise, he felt y/n leave his side before reappearing. this time, her arms held out a large cake that had clearly been homemade considering the way the lettering that spelt out ‘happy birthday, jay’ slowly got smaller towards the end.

“you did all this for me?” he asked astounded, despite y/n being the most affectionate and loving person he knew.

“of course i did,” she responded as if it was the most ridiculous questions she had ever heard. “i meant what i said jay, i love you. this is the least i could do considering all you do for me.” the heart to heart was rudely interrupted by the blaring of a car horn.

“you guys can do your thing later, just blow out the candles!” adam complained, earning a thwack over the arm by kim. “i mean, totally up to you, buddy. happy birthday!” 

jay chuckled, as he took in a deep breath and blew out the many candles that sprinkled over the sweet treat. before he ignored the cheers of his friends and kissed y/n passionately. 

“this might just be the best birthday ever.” he grinned. 

“happy birthday, baby.”

[passionate-hedgehog]

Band Aids and Lame Exes

Pairing: Damien Haas x Reader

Warnings: There’s stuff, man  Not like awful things. Someone’s just super grouchy in the mornings. And it shows.

Word Count: 1151 

A/N: I wrote this installment of the prompt notebook series a little quickly. I ended up putting it off to the last minute because...idk why. Idk why I do anything tbh.Both of my best friend’s now actively read my works and that thought used to terrify me. Now? I’m grateful for friends that WANT anything to do with my creations. There’s a reference to the Blacksmith Shops and Musicals in here (when they bring up the restaurant) but you really don’t need to have read it to grasp the convo. But if you want to read it, you can find it in the mastelist “Lots Of Words”. ♥

Summary: Some days aren’t meant to be yours. Some days your boss calls you at the butt crack of dawn and some days metal shelves in a closet stab you. Some days are your days. Some days, you end up owning with someone by your side.

“You did what now?”

Y/n nibbled on her bottom lip but wouldn’t look Courtney in the eyes. “I told Ian to suck my dick…”

“Because he called you at six in the morning?” The blonde actress cocked her head. 

“Who gave him the rights to call me that early??”

Courtney threw her hands in the air. “He’s your boss, Y/n! He’s going to have to make early calls sometimes!”

“I take melatonin. It takes a while to wear off. If he doesn’t want early morning threats then he shouldn’t be waking me up at the ass crack of dawn.” Y/n swirled her to-go cup of tea before taking a sip. She caught Courtney’s incredulous look and merely shrugged in response. “Listen, I warned all of y’all before we started planning for SMOSH Goes Camping. If I have plans in the morning, I’m taking the gummies. Don’t talk to me until after I’ve slept them off.”

“Oh...uh…” The two women turned to see Ian hovering in the doorway of the break room looking as if he wasn’t sure whether it was safe to enter or not. 

Y/n rolled her eyes. “It’s safe, man. You don’t gotta suck my dick.”

”Jesus…” Courtney mumbled. 

”Actually, I need Courtney to fill in on set. Shayne just called in late.”

”Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.” The blonde nodded and waited for her boss to leave. “Good job. He’s absolutely terrified of you now.”

Y/n shrugged again. “Not my fault.”

————

Y/n found herself in the prop closet, the real reason for her stress. Normally, she loved the storage unit. She loved taking things down and putting them back in a new order. Did she have problems?...maybe. But it gave her a sense of peace. She had a different task at hand, though. One she wasn’t necessarily excited for. She was meant to make sure everything was put back from shooting SMOSH Goes Camping; a new adventure series akin to winter and summer games. The premise? They had to sleep in tents and cook their own food. The games were largely based on legitimate camping activities. The whole thing was her idea and she had no idea how it got approved. Yet, there she was. Sitting in the prop closet. Making sure everything was put back where it needed to be because her project was officially done. 

She enjoyed looking through all of the items of past SMOSH videos. But her mind was set on her task. She began reorganizing the gear.. She found the space where the lanterns went; by the fake brassy orchestra instruments. The extra sleeping bags were meant to go into a pile near some plastic finches and other bird paraphernalia. She’s heard about the Bird sketch...but she knew she wasn’t brave enough to watch it. She’s heard things...things that made her regret listening in on an OG main cast conversation. 

She went to put back the tiki torches against the back wall when she felt something sharp knick her leg. She pulled back from her position and leaned down to see some blood starting to trickle. Y/n closed her eyes and began to breathe deeply. It’s not that deep, she thought to herself. It’s just a little blood. Walk yourself out of the closet and go to your desk where your band-aids are.

She agreed with her mental conversation and left the small room, focusing on her journey to her desk. Once she got there, she plopped into her chair and let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Y/n dug through her little box of first aid trinkets that sat on the corner of her desk. There were different colored band-aids but she knew her current situation called for a neon pink one. 

”Hey, Y/n” A voice called from her side, making her guts go flying all over the inside of her stomach. “Did someone get hurt?”

”Mm...a little.” Y/n stretched her leg out a little so Damien could see the damage. “But it’s fine.”

”Can I help? I know you’re not a fan of your own blood.” The actor let his backpack slide to the ground. “Do you have wipes? Because I know for a fact you weren’t about to put that on without cleaning it first.”

Y/n gave an indignant “Yes, Mom.” which caused Damien to flick her in the knee cap. She then handed him an antiseptic wipe and watched him tear open the wrapper. 

”Do you need to hold my hand for this part? Totally fair if you do.”

”Like at the restaurant?” Damien looked up and caught her mischievous gleam.

His blush went down to his neck. “I mean, yeah if you want that. I’m down. It’ll just be until the pain is gone.”

Y/n chuckled. ”How bold of you, Haas. To assume I don’t want to hold your hand all of the time. 

He didn’t say anything as his free hand found one of hers. His eyes didn’t meet hers as he applied the wipe to the cut on her upper shin. 

”Yaaaaa that’s banANAS.” Y/n sucked in air and tried not to damage anyone or anything else beside her. “I absolutely DESPISE doing that.”

”Oh, come one.” Damien began with a smirk as he applied the colorful bandaid. “Holding my hand can’t be that bad.”

”Ugh. It’s the absolute worst. Ten out of ten: never doing it again.” 

Damien looked down to notice that their hands were still together. When he tried to pull apart, Y/n held on tighter. 

”Ten out of ten of other people. Only I get to do this.”

”Yes, and you did. Now I need it back.” He stood up and tried to pull away again. 

”Oh, no. That’s not happening. This hand? Mine now. Better find a chair and take a seat. You’re gonna be here for a while. I have to finalize those edits for the SGC promos.” Y/n didn’t look at him as she opened her laptop with her free hand and began to type in her password. 

”I have to film today. My call time is in 15 minutes.” Damien replied as he gently ran his thumb over the space between Y/n’s thumb and index finger. 

The woman looked up and to the side where Damien was standing and pouted. “Fine. You can go...but I guess that means you gotta take me out on a regular old-fashioned date, then. My ex never took me out on them. He said there was no aim to them.”

The actor picked his backpack up and slung it over his shoulder. He situated it before responding. “Well, he sounds lame and I’d like to respectfully disagree. I’ll do whatever it takes to hold your hand again.”

After Damien walked off, Y/n faced her laptop. She caught Monica’s eye and winked. She was glad she had someone to talk over the new developments of hers and Damiens growing...whatever they could call it. 

[2manyfandoms2count]

#MarichatMay Day 24

Long post ft. a Reveal, Marichat, lowkey other sides of the lovesquare and fluff :3 Hope you guys enjoy! xxx

Based on the prompt list by @marichatmay

---

Day 24: Confession

“Purr-incess? I might have to confess something.”

“What have you done this time?” Marinette sighed, barely looking up from her newspaper. She was reading the fashion pages, regularly bookmarking pictures from the Paris Autumn Fashion Week report. She wasn’t so much interested in the stars as she was in the trends that were emerging, although there were a couple of good shots of Adrien Agreste that would definitely be making it to her picture-board.

Had Marinette been focusing on Chat Noir instead, she would have noticed how fidgety he was, a lot more hyper than usual. He paced around her room, biting his claws in a nervous habit. Ever since he’d found out Ladybug was, in fact, Marinette, he’d done his best to conceal his own identity, while secretly trying to get her attention, but not knowing how to. He hadn’t meant to follow Ladybug Home. In fact, he hadn’t realised he was until he had gotten close enough to Marinette’s flat. He’d been blinded by a familiar red flash just as he prepared to jump onto her balcony, and seen his friend casually walk out from behind the chimney, fishing in her bag to get a macaron out for the red being that floated next to her. 

Chat had been meaning to visit Marinette that particular night to welcome her back after her holiday. Which, now that he thought about it, matched Ladybug’s own time off. He thought about all the times he’d missed the connections. How Marinette had never been akumatised. How fast Ladybug appeared when the attacks happened at school, how well she seemed to know the targets. How the only time he’d seen both Marinette and Ladybug together, Trixx had conveniently been amongst the kidnapped Kwamis. How similar Ladybug and the illusory Marinette had looked, down to the hairstyle. For somebody whose main line of business was looks, he certainly had been very blind.  

Chat had almost collided with a wall as he ran back to his room, laughing about his discovery and the irony of him calling Marinette an everyday Ladybug. Knowing his Lady, she probably had been panicking inside at the thought of being unmasked. Yet it made so much sense that the most caring, mindful and genuinely kind person he knew was the person behind the mask. How had it escaped him for so long?

 He’d spent the rest of the Summer pondering what to do with the information. Should he come clean to Marinette? At least about him knowing? She was the guardian after all, surely it was only a matter of time before she ended up knowing about his identity anyway.

When school started again, still unsure about what to do, Adrien had probed Alya and Nino to figure out if they also knew. Alya being hot on LB’s tracks all the time, surely she must have been aware that her favourite superhero was her best friend. After talking with her, he concluded that either she didn’t know, or she played her cards reaaaally close to her chest. She’d let something slip about Marinette liking him, though, which, once he’d calmed the butterflies in his stomach -the girl of his dreams liked him back-, had lead him to spend a lot of time trying to get closer to her. He thought it would be perfect; he’d know the truth, but she didn’t have to.

Except that to everyone’s disbelief, Marinette had gently rejected Adrien’s date invitations. Once. Twice. Three times. Alya could not fathom what was going on in her best friend’s head, and she wouldn’t tell her. She just said she had a secret crush, but that she couldn’t say anything more. Adrien’s heart ached a bit, but guessed that after all the time he’d made her suffer by calling her a “good friend”, it was normal that she had moved on. He might have been slightly jealous, but he had respectfully backed away. 

Until tonight. Chat Noir had been visiting Marinette (just because she wouldn’t date him didn’t mean he didn’t want to hang out with his friend), and she’d left him for a bit to get some croissants from the bakery. Left unsupervised, Chat had skimmed through her latest sketches, her talent never failing to impress him. And that’s when he’d seen her diary, open wide. It had been pushed back behind her computer monitor, probably when he’d arrived. He really hadn’t meant to pry, but as his gaze landed on the page, he saw his name. Chat Noir. 

His curiosity getting the better of him, he had read the diary entry, his cheeks warming as he read her silent confession that she liked him. She seemed a little conflicted about her feelings, but his bad puns were the main thing she held against him. It was all he could do not to waltz with her when she came up the stairs. 

Marinette mistook his delight for over excitement at the thought of eating pastries, which she faced every time she gave Chat anything to eat. She refrained from worrying about his eating habits, given that he’d admitted to being a high level, part time sportsman (he wouldn’t say which sport, but the fact that his right arm muscles were a bit more developed than his left had made her assume it was tennis). His enthusiasm had made her smile, but she hadn’t paid much attention to it as she opened the magazine Chat had brought her.

“I might have agreed to us going on a double date? Adrien Agreste asked if I could organise a dinner with Ladybug, and well, I didn’t want to be the third wheel so I said we’d both go...” Chat was making it up as he went. This could be a solution to his conundrum. An opportunity to tell her who he was, that he knew, and (he could dream) to make out with her on the Paris rooftops.

“You what?” The magazine fell flat on her lap as all colour drained from her face. 

“I’m so sorry, I know I should have asked first, but he has a photo shoot opportunity for us and wanted to meet her in another context first... And Ladybug said yes.” He looked straight into her eyes as he iterated the last sentence, daring her to contradict him.

Marinette gaped at the audacity. The blatant lie. It hit her that there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say except accept the proposition. The way Chat looked at her told her he at least suspected there was a link between her and Ladybug. She couldn’t call him out on Ladybug’s supposed agreement to go. Outright refusing the dinner invitation would be fishy. 

She took a deep breath before replying. “Okay, fine, then.” She could always make up an excuse closer to the date.

Her answer took Chat by surprise, but he did his best to hide it. He promised he’d be in touch as he left, and pressed a longing kiss on Marinette’s forehead, drawing a bright shade of crimson to her cheeks as he did so. 

---

Ladybug swung from chimney to chimney on her way to the rooftop. She’d decided it would be Marinette bailing tonight. How could she explain getting there otherwise? And after all, it was Ladybug whom Adrien wanted to see. 

She landed at the meeting point, expecting to find the two boys she’d ever had feelings for. Instead, only one was present.

“Good evening, Adrien.” She smiled. Her romantic feelings for him had melted as her relationship with Chat bloomed. Adrien’s recent interest in her had further confused her, but she was certain now that her heart belonged to a certain leather-clad cat. “Has Chat not made it yet?”

“Actually, he has.” He gave her an oddly familiar smile, one she wasn’t used to seeing on him.

“Oh?” She asked, discreetly looking around. She noticed the candle-lit table in the center of the rooftop, a single rose laid on one of the two plates. Ladybug stared at him blankly, her brain taking a minute to register the information. “Is he not staying for dinner, then?”

“Just as much as Marinette will.”

“Do you mean...”

“Plagg, claws out.” Adrien called out, holding his hand out. A black blur cycloned towards his simple, silver ring, and in a green flash, the model was replaced by her partner.

Her face was tense from trying very hard not to gape. Her jaw would probably have hit the floor otherwise. 

“You knew.” She managed to articulate.

“I did.”

“Tikki, spots off.” She felt more comfortable speaking as herself. Which she knew was stupid. She was Ladybug. And Adrien was Chat Noir. “I can’t believe you managed to make me fall for you twice.” She knew there were more pressing matters. They were out in the open, they’d both transformed. They now both knew who the other was. But for once she let her heart speak for her first.

“In my defense, you claw-ly have a type.” He chuckled. They were facing each other now, close enough for his hand to come and cup her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.

“As if you don’t!” She snorted, her eyes lost in his green ones. They reflected the flickering candles in a warm way, making her feel at Home. 

“Never said I didn’t.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead. On her nose. On her cheek. “You know, I lied the other day when I said I had to confess something.” He whispered as he continued trailing kisses on her face, behind her ears, just below her jaw.

“Oh yeah?” She sighed, savouring the moment.

“My actual confession is, I love you, my Ladynette.” He smiled tenderly as he drowned into the sapphire of her eyes.

“And I love you, my Chadrien.” 

Their lips found each other like two butterflies as they stood in their own bubble, the Eiffel Tower erupting in lights behind them as the clock struck the hour.

[rhyolight]

Well, I do remember one of the asks I sent. I wanted to know how the creepypastas would react to being trapped in a submarine deep in the ocean together. (probably either Jeff’s or Toby’s fault they end up there in the first place. If you’d like you can come up with how it probably happened) also can we give bloody painter some attention please -ゆう

I’m glad that this ask went through, and I’d be happy to add in the bloody painter! I hope that this is good, I realized that I have forgotten about the bloody painter quite a bit, so I tried to make him pretty important to the story. I hope you enjoy! I know that I initially thought that this would take me a day or two, but I’m not tired so I finished it now.  Something that you may notice is that I did not write Toby with his tics, and while I acknowledge that they are an important part of his character, I didn’t write them as I don’t feel that I have a firm enough grasp on how to write tourettes, and I didn’t want to accidentally offend anyone if I got something very wrong I am doing my research to make sure that I can write it respectfully, but as of now I don’t think that I am fully capable of writing an accurate representation. 

      How did they get here? Well, it probably was Toby’s fault, or as he’d tell Tim, only 50% his fault. Because

  “Jeff started it!” 

      According to Toby, Jeff told him that Tim wanted him to steer the submarine to the right. It was an absurd lie of course, as Toby had strictly been banned from the control room by Tim himself. So somehow the submarine had gone deeper, only to get wedged under a rocky ledge on the bottom of the ocean floor. The pressure from the depth was starting to give Tim a headache, and Toby’s blubbering certainly didn’t help. He snapped at Toby to go gather the others and bring them to the dinning room for a “meeting,” although the way he said it meant that it would mostly consist of Tim yelling. Still, Toby rushed out of the room, eager to escape Tim’s wrath, if only for a moment.  

      When they were all gathered together, it only became apparent how problematic this could be. Many of the pastas had been grumpy about attending the meeting, Helen complained that his paint would dry, Ben fretted that his computer would somehow break in his absence, and there was an overall air of discomfort. 

“In case you haven’t noticed, we're stuck.” 

      Tim stated, only conforming what had been suspected. A few began to ask questions, but Tim cut them off. 

“Apparently Jeff told Toby that I told him to go steer the submarine, despite him being banned from the control room unless he was the last person left alive.” 

“But Jeff said it was an emergency!” 

      Toby burst out, but to his dismay, the others only rolled their eyes. 

“And were you the last person alive?” 

      Tim snarled, his temper flaring, 

“Well, no, but jeff said-”

“I don’t care what Jeff said the point is we're stuck!” 

      Toby galred at Jeff who was smirking, but he felt a twinge of satisfaction when Tim turned to Jeff. 

“Why did you tell Toby to go there? What on earth made you think that would be a good idea?” 

      Jeff shrugged, 

“I didn’t think he’d be dumb enough to do it.” 

      Toby stood up, about to interject, but at that point the room seemed to erupt in yelling. Everyone had something to say, and nobody wanted to wait their turn. Tim kept yelling, trying to get everyone to calm down, but it only made things worse as the situation grew more chaotic. A few of the quieter pastas,  Helen, Sally, and Jack, slipped out of the room, as the noise was getting to be too much. Toby could tell that Liu was gone as well, with Sully in his place, judging by the way he was yelling. The noise was getting to be too much for Toby as well, so when he saw Brian follow the others he headed after him. 

      He walked through the twisting halls of the submarine, walking quietly, he didn’t want to  be told to go away. He found the others in the room of a very annoyed bloody painter. Helen glared at him irritably as he walked in the door, he had clearly meant to escape the mess so he could paint in peace, but Jack and Brian were sitting on the floor, with Sally facing them on the bed. As he walked in the door, the others gave him an annoyed look, he pretended not to see it, and he sat down next to Sally, the springs in the mattress creaking under his weight. 

“Do you really have to be here?” 

      Helen asked, swishing a paintbrush in a jar of water to clean it. Brian shrugged, and Helen turned back to his art without another word. The swishing of the brush was the only thing that filled the silence until Toby spoke up, 

“So, what exactly are we going to do?” 

      Brian sighed, leaning his chin on his hands. 

“Well, we have to get the submarine unstuck somehow, and you can’t reason with Tim when he gets like this.” 

      He didn’t have to elaborate. They all knew that the normally level headed Tim would not listen to reason when he lost his temper. So it was up to them. Toby wanted to help, he really did, especially since he felt responsible, but he didn’t know anything about any sort of technology, much less submarines, thus the reason he had been banned from the control room. 

“Well if Toby hadn't touched the controls maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess and I could paint in peace.” 

      Helen snapped, breaking the silence as he slammed his paintbrush down angrily.

”I’m sorry,” 

      Toby whispered, 

“I really didn't mean to break anything.” 

“Well, the damage has been done.” 

      Jack pointed out, 

“Arguing over who did it won’t help us now.” 

      Brian looked up,

 “Jack’s right, and if we don;t figure out something soon we’ll be in trouble. We could run out of food, or the submarine could start to leak.” 

      This seemed to make Sally nervous, and her legs began to swing, hitting the sides of the bed with a thunk thunk sound. Toby reached out a hand to stop her before the noise annoyed Helen. Brian looked up and noticed the young girl’s distress. 

“Sally, why don’t you go to your room? I promise we’ll get everything figured out.” 

      She nodded and got up slowly, then fled, clutching her bear in her hand as her feet padded down the hall. Once she was out of earshot, Brian’s expression turned grave. 

“I haven’t been to see the damage myself, but from the way Tim’s yelling it’s pretty bad.” 

      Toby nodded in agreement, he remembers the sickening jerk as the submarine had halted, accompanied by a loud scraping sound. That was what had led Tim to investigate and discover Toby in the control room. 

“Should we go inspect the damage?” 

      Brian asked, rising to his feet. Toby nodded as he stood, and Jack rose as well. After a bit of nagging, they persuaded Helen to come with them as well, but he insisted on grabbing his sketchbook because he worried that they would be boring. 

      As they walked, Toby noticed that Jack now walked with confidence. At first, he had walked around the boat making high pitched whistles and clicks as a form of echolocation, and while it had been annoying, it was impressive. Toby had tried it once, only it hadn’t worked and he’d run face first into a wall. 

      As they got towards the end that had gotten stuck, the temperature seemed to drop and the air grew damp. 

“That’s a bad sign.” 

      Brian muttered under his breath, and they picked up the pace, walking quickly towards the now apparent sound of dripping water. They stepped into the room, and the others seemed to shiver. The air was significantly colder, and the source of the problem was obvious. The top was dented, and a few small cracks had appeared, just barely visible, you wouldn’t have known they were there had there not been the dripping of water slowly forming puddles on the floor. 

      Jack let out a chirp towards the water pooling on the floor and frowned, he obviously didn’t like whatever information he had gathered. Helen, who somehow managed to look exceedingly bored with the whole ordeal, was standing a few steps away, drawing. Toby fidgeted, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater ad Brian stepped closer, craning his neck to get a better look at the ceiling. The water kept dripping a Brian turned abruptly. 

“We need to find a way to stop the leak. The rocks are wedged tightly against the side, they’re helping keep the water out, once we move the submarine who knows how much water will leak in.” 

      As he turned and began to leave the room, Toby and Jack following close behind, Helen held up his sketchbook for the others to see. Complex diagrams had been drawn, ones that Toby recognized from the control room, as well as a sketch of the puddles the water dripping from the ceiling. He gave the book to Jack, and Toby noticed that he had used the lead of his pencil to create ridges on the edges of the drawing. Jack ran his finger over the diagrams, but what he learned from them was a mystery to Toby. Jack nodded before silently handing the book back to Helen, who closed it and tucked it under his arm. 

“Well, what do you think? You did take a few classes in engineering once, didn’t you?” 

Brain asked. Jack frowned deeply thinking, 

“I did, but it was a long time ago,” 

      he muttered. 

“I’m not sure how much I’ll remember.” 

“Well do your best, our lives may depend on it.” 

      Jack nodded, but by that point Brian was already out the door, walking swiftly down the hall towards the closet where they kept everything that they could possibly need for repairs. Ben caught up to them as they reached the door. 

“Tim sent me to find you, do you think you can fix it?”

 “We can try.” 

      Ben nodded, 

“Once the submarine is patched, I’m going to try to steer us out. The computers got messed up in the crash, but I think I can hold it together if you can keep this thing watertight.” 

      Toby looked down at his feet guiltily as Ben raced back towards the control room. Brian rummaged along the shelves, Helen whispering to Jack, describing what there was available. At first, Toby was hopeful. Maybe Jack could fix the submarine and Ben could get them home, and once Tim calmed down all would be forgiven, but his hopes began to fade as Jack’s frown deepened. Helen seemed to be growing impatient. 

“Surely there must be something here that you can use.” 

      He snapped. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one here?” 

      Luckily, Jack didn’t seem to be bothered by Helen’s comment, as he was more focused on running his hands along the materials on the shelves. 

“I practice medicine, not mechanics, and while it’s true that I did take a few classes in engineering, I was never taught how to fix a submarine.” 

      Yet his calm,only added to the bloody painter’s annoyance. He began grabbing things and shoving them into the arms of Brian, Jack, and Toby. 

“Here, duct tape and super glue. It’ll fix anything.” 

      He muttered. Jack didn’t look so sure, but they didn’t seem to have anything better, so they grabbed all that they could carry and took off running. Helen came a minute later with a ladder resting on his shoulder, and the group raced down the halfway, their footsteps echoing desperately. When they reached the damaged room, the puddle had nearly doubled in size. Helen sloshed through it to the center, and he began to unfold the ladder and Jack began instructing Brian on what to do. 

“I’d prefer to do it myself, but this is new to me, and you can see, I can’” 

      Brain looked hesitant, but there was no way that they would get Helen up there, meaning Toby was the only other option, and seeing as he was the reason they were stuck, it didn’t come as a surprise when nobody asked him to help. Instead, he grabbed some tape and glue and climbed up after Brian, their footsteps clanging on the rungs. He figured that he could at least help by holding the supplies while Brian worked. 

      Brian took off his hoodie and began to use it to dry some of the water, more leaked in, but he got off as much as he could. Then he began to spread glue around the cracks before sealing everything with duct tape. They added on more layers, and soon the water stopped coming through. 

“Do you think it will hold?” 

      Toby asked as he passed another roll of tape up to Brian.

 “I don’t know,'' 

      came the reply ,in a voice coated with worry. 

“It’s holding up for now, but there’s no way to tell what will happen once we start moving.” 

“Should we try it?” 

“We might as well, I think it’s good enough for now.” 

      Brian sighed as he climbed down after Toby, careful not to step on his fingers. Helen ran off with a splashing sound to tell Ben that they were ready to go, leaving Brian, Toby, and Jack alone with the pool of water on the floor to keep them company. 

      A few minutes later, the submarine began to lurch, nearly knocking them off their feet. As alarms began to blare, Toby stumbled backwards, slipping on the damp floor and crashing into the puddle. Brian turned at the noise. 

“Are you ok?” 

      Toby scrambled to get to his feet as the boat continued to jerk back and forth. 

“I’m fine, just lost my balance.” 

      Brian reached out a hand and pulled Toby clear of the puddle, which was nothing like the tranquil pond it had once been, as the wild movement of the submarine had caused the water to splash, creating the illusion of a stormy sea. They retreated to the the doorway where they looked up at the ceiling, Toby head Brian sucking in a breath as the ceiling buckled. You could see the indentation the rocks were making as the horrible wine of rock on metal filled the air. 

“Well I hope you did a good job,” 

      Jack muttered, covering his ears. Just then, Helen returned with a walkie talkie, Ben’s voice floating out of the device. 

“Is everything holding up?” 

      Brian grabbed it and pushed the button, wincing as another shrill wine shattered the once quiet atmosphere. 

“It’s holding together so far, but be careful, if we’re not gentle, we  could rip another hole in the submarine.”

      Ben promised to be careful, and then silence fell. They stood there, tension rising as the boat scooted backwards at an agonizingly slow pace. The noise was bordering unbearable, but after a few especially harsh and jerky movements, the submarine appeared to be drifting freely again. 

      Toby looked up, expecting to see water come crashing down through some hole in the ceiling, but no new cracks had emerged, and while the makeshift patch was sagging under all of the weight, it held. The boat began to rise, the pressure in their ears decreasing as they ascended until Ben announced that  they had reached the surface. They cheered, and headed to the control room. 

      Lights were flashing everywhere, and Ben was almost transparent, half in half out of the computers as he moved from place to place, carefully guiding the damaged ship. 

“We should be safe now that we’ve reached the surface,” 

      Tim remarked upon their entry. Toby avoided his gaze, but he didn’t seem angry any more. He’d probably been worn out from all of the stress and yelling. And although Toby knew that he would be yelled at the next day, at least he would be alive to be yelled at, and not drowned at the bottom of the ocean. 

      Next time, he promised himself, I won’t listen to Jeff. And maybe I should learn a thing or two about submarines, just in case this happens again. As if he could read his mind, Tim shot Toby  glare, but he was too lost in his thoughts to notice. 

[subzerobts]

Thoughts on the Eighth Member of BTS

A/N: No pairings or warnings for this, except that it may throw you into a sudden 8th member fanfic spiral. When I tell you I was reading 8th member fanfic for the majority of my day, I mean like a good six hours. It wasn’t good.

Okay, so I feel like a lot of people have talked about an eighth member and it being a girl and stuff so I figure I should add some stuff to the ever growing cache of things about the eighth member.

This was like 2300 words and I have no regrets.

~So if there was I feel like she would be slightly younger than most of them and would have come in after their first few albums

~Maybe she was raised in New York with her immediate family being mostly Korean and hella feminist and she’d have older brothers and be super chill

~So like maybe the company would be worried about the lack of fast growing traction with the group and have a girl added in

~First things first: it would be awkward as heck for the guys to suddenly have a girl there and would make living situations even more difficult, with having to share rooms and such. So, they’d probs alternate who rooms with who and who gets the couch, especially for her rooming with a guy

~Not to mention if she catches them talking about some sort of issue with the sleeping situation and then being nervous about it

~Eventually, I feel like she’d kind of get tired of all of the tiptoeing around her and be like

~‘Guys! I don’t even care! Unless you guys have some sort of creepy thing you’re trying to avoid, just treat me like one of you guys’

~Things would chill out basically immediately. Like the next few days, the boys were super relaxed and that was a problem because they just started walking around in just underwear and she would be like:

👀😒 um ew?? Put a shirt on?

~They’d clean it up a lil bit and walk around in like boxers and t shirts, which was fine she had older brothers, she could deal with that

~She’d respectfully bow out of the choreographed hip thrusts and things of that nature at first, like maybe they’d thrust and she’d like make a gagging motion or something(only rarely because the company would be like no) at some point she’d get extremely comfortable with just doing the hip thrusts herself

~The company even found that during interactions with fans she got just as much, sometimes more, attention and screaming as the boys

~Eventually she’d get used to dressing androgynous, like the stylist unnies would put her in skirts and she’d get kinda pissed and the guys would all agree that she’d be better in just what they’re wearing(i.e. pants)

~(Also, just a quick side note, before they even realized what was happening, they’d be super protective. Like unwarranted protection.

~Especially during interviews and talk shows any heavily toxic feminine questions related to her would be met with complete headassery(is that a word?) Just any kind of bullshit the guys could come up with.

~Like it wouldn’t happen immediately, but like after a few interviews and them seeing how uncomfortable it made her to answer the weird questions(coming from female OR male interviewers) they’d kind of come up with an unspoken agreement to answer any and every sexist comment or question with an answer just as shitty)

~ Into specific dynamics now:

~I feel like she’d be evenly split to each other member’s interests because in the first few months, that’s how she bonded with them, busy finding somethings she had in common with each of them and building on it

[we’ll go youngest to oldest]

~She is close with all of the boys, but each get her undivided attention when the moment serves.

~ With Jungkook she’d notice his quiet side during the beginning and willingness to please. So she’d always assure him, in a not so obvious way, that he was accepted. Just quiet validation from her court to his.

~So she’d set up gaming nights with Jungkook when they didn’t have strict schedules or just sit around on their phones

~ The fandom would eventually come to know them as the meme lords of the group.

~Their inside jokes are way too many to count and don’t even come close to being forgotten.

~Can’t forget GCF cause she would be in every single one of them that she could. She’s endlessly supportive of the videos and wants to be in all of them, she even suggests music and things(sometimes before he’s even thinking of doing another one)

~She disapproves when he pushes himself too hard. When she knows it’s happening, she’ll involve on of the hyungs( probably Jin) or they’ll talk to a manager if things get super serious.

~That being said, if he doesn’t have the dance down, or they’re both struggling, she’s the first to volunteer to run the dance with him multiple times and is always the voice of reason.

~When he says ‘one more time’ she says ‘food first’ or like ‘how about a water chugging contest really quick?!’ (bc we all know his competitive nature) ‘Jin probably has some left overs in the fridge that we can reheat, late night snack time!’

~They definitely argue a bit about being the “Golden Maknae.” She’s a bit competitive in that aspect. Because they’re both so talented and she’s just a half of a year older than he is.

~For Taehyung, I feel like she’d grow to love art with him. His quiet adoration for things of beauty, conventional or not.

~(They have a joke,mostly his own that he refuses to let die, that she’s his favorite piece of artwork, eventually she retaliates with him being her favorite piece of artwork and it just sticks.)

~They’d be the classy duo, but with matching boxy smiles. Elegant and poised, their visuals are basically unmatched and during photo shoots, they’re always the ones finished way before the others.

~There are no bad sides for the classy duo. (I’m basically imagining model material for both of them, like just ethereal. Visual god and goddessssssss)

~Also his need to fall asleep holding something, I feel like she’d match that with just being okay with anything when she’s asleep or almost asleep(like she’d fall asleep in the car with the boys or something and be difficult to wake up, so they’d just carry her and she wouldn’t even stir)

~So Tae would lay beside her and they’d be chilling and eventually fall asleep and then later wake up holding onto each other.

~Both of them are shameless damn flirts. They’re attractive and they know it and they will absolutely use it to (not literally) kill ARMY

~Jimin is a bit harder to think about(idek why) but I feel like she’d be his buddy in quiet studying. Like he’d come find her if he wanted to do some reading, but not be alone and she’d be totally down( same with Joon but hold on)

~and either she’d read her own book or she’d do some sketching(mostly because she’d want to have her own unique thing that the others weren’t too interested in)

~Jimin would be her ideal model in these moments. She never gets tired of sketching any of the boys, but in those moments, Jimin is the least likely to change face or position and thus be the perfect study.

~she’d also ask him for homework help in the earlier days with like mathematics and he’d always be more than happy to help

~Jimin is a brat and I feel like when the two of them spend a bit too much time together, the rest of the group can only expect the worst.

~(Low key the Lil-Shit Duo™️)

~Joon is next and here’s where her position in the group comes in. Since she was raised in New York, she’d be fluent in both Korean and English and, as such, would help with the interviews and translating.

~It’s a huge load for Namjoon to carry and with her, being by his side and helping with rephrasing things to the boys during interviews really eases him.

~Along with that, he always makes sure that she knows how much he appreciates her after difficult interviews or just every good while he’s just endlessly doting and complimenting her and things. She always tells him that it’s unnecessary, but he never stops thanking her.

~So they’re like the Leader Duo™️ and are consistently doing damage control between the boys(almost like group therapy) or rephrasing the boys’ answers(in those moments where the boys give weird answers to questions in interviews)

~When not in the public eye, they are coming up with ways to better interact with ARMY or they’re expanding their horizons by reading and stuff.

~Her favorite thing with Joon is working on learning a new language or just English with Joon and making up little tongue twisters and sayings and debating proper ways to phrase things. Which brings us to:

~Being a part of the rapline. So Joon, Hobi, and Yoongi are her peeps. When she’s not entertaining the maknae line, she’s with the Hyung line.

~Hobi and her have a cute dynamic. He babies her a little bit and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t love it at least a little.

~they like coming up with dances together, even when they are supposed to be taking the day off, just goofing around and coming up with dances for little snippets of songs is fun

~they’re like the sunshines of the group. So he’s J-hope and she’s his ‘little hope’. How cute.

~She’s constantly encouraging his little quirks and things that he does(the sound effects and just being him) and being right there with him in being the lights of the group.

~I feel like her and Jungkook get the same bit of his attention. Like the cuddly bits of it

(and my heart skips for cuddly JungHope so like imagining the three of them being cozy and mellow together and just watching the rest of the group do whatever. Agh my heart)

~My boy Yoongles is next and let me tell you I’ve been excited as hell for this one.(trying real hard not to let bias love seep through)

~When moving to a more spacious apartment, they decided to give her her own room. (She’s grateful.)

~And so when she wants to tamp down the wildness in the apartment, get a moment's peace, she retreats to her room.

~While she’s endlessly supportive of all six of the others, encouraging their wild quirks, her room is the quietest. Her room has a ‘no noise’ rule.

~Yoongi shares a room with Jin still at this point and not that Jin is a bad roommate, or particularly noisy, it’s just that the maknae line patronizes him a lot. And Yoongi has very little patience for that.

~So her room is where they’ll often find him. She has a comfy couch that she took Yoongi with to pick it out(because it was basically for him.)

~Point is, she’s mellow when she wants and needs to be and Yoongi is drawn to that chill side of her.

~When the rest are wild and he wants mellowness, he seeks her out and when she wants to be a bit rowdy, she leaves and closes the door.

~He has a gigantic soft spot for her. Not even kidding.

~The boys will always pull her into the situation if they think Yoongi might get too angry or a prank goes south and does more harm than fun amusement.

~They mention that she was involved and she goes with it because she doesn’t want the boys in too much trouble and Yoongi won’t hurt her like he would the boys(not actually hurt but you know like “beat them up”) or scold her too harshly.

~As soon as he finds out she’s involved the anger either dissipates or he removes himself from the situation so as not to hurt anything(but you bet your ass she scolds the maknaes from time to time on Yoongi’s behalf)

~And he definitely helps with her mixtape which the fandom is waiting for. Basically, chomping at the bit. She gives Yoongi and Joon so much credit tbh

~They definitely nap together. Mostly because they’re up at ungodly hours during the night, either working on songs or just talking because that’s definitely a thing that happens.

~They have similar views of the world(I’m mostly thinking of Interlude: Shadow here) but being lonely while being famous is definitely a view they share and are drawn together from that. Despite all of their wants to be on the top of the world, they want to not be lonely.

~Along with her keeping up well with the rowdy bits of the group, she’s definitely introverted like Yoongi. She does what she has to to further the group, but she does get drained and just kind of shuts everyone out some times.

~This is where Jin comes in. (Not to be that cliché bitch who’s always like Jin’s the mom of the group omg) but in this case, he makes sure she’s eating and taking care of herself when she does this.

~They all have locks on their doors and she keeps hers locked a majority of the time, but Jin and Yoongi are the only people she absolutely trusts with coming in unannounced.

~Despite always laughing at his dad jokes and being totally supportive of that, he knows when to turn on being serious and not taking her bullshit about “being fine” if she’s not.

~He forces(more like needles annoyingly) her to eat even when she says she’s not hungry during those times

~Makes sure she’s taking care of herself like showering and brushing her teeth and things.

~During the earlier years when she mostly stayed with the boys, very little contact to her mother in New York, Jin absolutely made sure he had cramp medication on hand and feminine products stashed in spots around the house. Well hidden obvi so the boys wouldn’t just stumble across them, but still there. (She does these things on her own now, but she’ll never forget the thought he put into making sure she was cared for)

~She’s definitely requested a majority of the time on EatJin. ARMY just likes to make sure that she’s eating(just like all of them) and they want to see the two of them talk.

~All in all, the boys are her family and she wouldn’t trade them for the world.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ @sasuhinabigflash2020​​ || Day Four: On A Hill ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina, blood, death, gun ] [ Verse: Stockades and Stagecoaches ] [ AO3 Link ]

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“YAH!”

Kicking spurs into his mount’s side, Sasuke leans up over the horse’s neck, releasing his reins to better keep hold of his rifle. Hooves thunder against the ground, dry and dusty in the dog days of Summer. Ahead of him, his target is just as desperate to build speed, glancing back over his shoulder to his pursuer.

Just a little closer…

Then with a bang and a whiz, a bullet flies by, followed quickly by more as the fiend draws a pistol, firing nearly blind behind himself in a last ditch effort to ward off his foe.

But Sasuke’s been in far too many fire fights to flinch. Instead, he finally launches a bullet of his own with a cracking report.

It flies true, burying into the man’s back with a cry of agony. For a moment he sits stiff in his saddle before falling to the earth. His own horse keeps running, and Sasuke makes no attempt to stop it. Instead, he brings his to a stop with a hold of the reins and a soft, “whoa”.

Blood pooling in the dirt, the rogue beneath him draws a few more rattling breaths before going still.

Seems he won’t be getting a confession, but in truth he doesn’t need one. All he knows is that this one’s face was on a wanted poster...and when Sasuke decides to take down a bounty, nothing stands in his way.

Dead or alive.

Dismounting, he goes through the man’s pockets, taking anything of note that the dead no longer need. A few dollars, a pocket watch, and a half-empty package of cigarettes. He doesn’t smoke, but he might be able to trade them to someone who does.

Making sure the target’s deceased, Sasuke then hauls him up behind his saddle, tying him down to take in to the sheriff’s office. For good measure, he folds the copy of the poster he took and stuffs it in the man’s pocket to make the last step all the easier.

He then climbs up into his seat, surprised to find the other horse come to a stop not too far off. With a flick of his lasso, he manages to catch it, leading it back toward town. Given his owner no longer has need of it...might as well sell it. He trusts his own mount too much to consider trading, and he doesn’t carry enough to need a pack animal.

The less he can get by on, the easier it is to keep moving.

The ride to town takes him until sunset, curious citizens gawking at the scene. Bounty hunters aren’t exactly rare, but a successful haul - let alone a dead one - still draws gazes.

Clearly about ready to call it a day, the sheriff lounges in a rocking chair along the front of the jail, sitting up as Sasuke approaches. “And what have we here?”

Rather than answer, the Uchiha grabs the body and tosses it on the veranda, whipping out the parchment and presenting it without a word.

“Hm…” With a boot, the sheriff turns the body face-up, comparing the face to the sketch. “Seems right to me. Give me a moment and I’ll fetch your reward, mister…?”

“Uchiha. Sasuke Uchiha.”

“Mister Uchiha.” Giving a nod and stepping over the corpse, the other man disappears for a few minutes before returning with a small wad of bills. “Two hundred and fifty dollars, as advertised. And our little town thanks you for your service. One less varmint runnin’ amok.”

Hand at its brim, Sasuke tips his hat respectfully before remounting. With that money, he can easily afford a room, a bath, and to restock on supplies before heading to the next town to see what work they’d have. But first...a little rest and relaxation for a job well done.

His horse plods easily through town, watching as it begins to button up for the evening. Wives scold late-returning husbands, children are ushered in before it gets dark...and patrons flock to the tavern for its late night lights and spirits.

Tempting, but he’ll want a clear head to travel come morning.

His plan, however, soon runs into a snag. Seems the inn is full.

“There’s a boarding house at the west end a’town,” the innkeep offers. “A bit more spendy, but it should do well for ya. Run by a real nice gal. Sits up on a hill, y’can’t miss it.”

Glancing in the offered direction, Sasuke spies what looks to be the building’s silhouette as the sun sets behind it. Giving his thanks, Sasuke follows the scant directions, finding himself at the base of a three story building. Curious eyes rove over it before lowering to the door. Horse tethered in what is clearly the property’s stable, he walks up and knocks.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually the door opens. And standing within it is a woman of shorter stature and fuller features. But what catches his eyes first are her own: a pale color, almost like subdued lilac.

She in turn looks surprised to see him. And given that he sees no evidence of other guests, Sasuke can guess why. “...evening, sir!” she then greets, flashing a demure smile. “Can I help you…?”

“I was told lodging was offered here?” he asks, glancing up behind her.

“Yes, this’s a boarding house. Are you in need of a room?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Thinking to remove his hat, Sasuke then offers, “Wouldn’t turn down a bath and a meal, either.”

That gets her to softly laugh. “Of course. No offense, but...you look like you brought half the road with you.”

“Oh, er…” Stepping back, he dusts at his garments. “Had a long ride.”

“Most who come through do. If you’d like, I can launder those for you.”

He pauses. “...I’d appreciate that, ma’am.”

“Oh, please - miss Hyūga suits me just fine.” She then opens the door wider, and Sasuke steps in, spurs clinking quietly. “I’ll get that bath started for you. Just leave your things outside the door and I’ll tend to them.”

“Sure it’s not a bother?”

“Not at all. I’m...sure you’ve noticed you’re the only patron at the moment,” she notes with a weary sigh. “So I’ve all the time in the world. If anything, a bit more to do would be nice.”

Still feeling a bit awkward at all the offered hospitality, Sasuke just nods, letting her show him to a room and then the bathroom. She heats the water on the stove, filling the tub and leaving soaps for his use.

Taking in his saddlebags, Sasuke unpacks one of few spare outfits he has, stripping down and leaving what’s soiled outside the door before slipping into the water.

Admittedly...he can’t remember the last time he had a proper bath. Mostly just rinsing off in obliging rivers or rain barrels. So this? This is a treat. And he’s going to be damn sure to enjoy it while he can.

Only once clean and the water cold does he emerge, toweling off and dressing. Upon cracking open the door, he does indeed find what he left behind gone.

Feeling a bit standoffish, he eventually makes his way back downstairs, following the scent of food. And there he finds Hinata setting the dining room table before glancing up to him.

“My, looks like you’ve shed ten pounds from lost dirt alone,” she notes, smiling again as he flashes pink across the tops of his ears and the bridge of his nose. “Forgive me, it’s...been a while since I’ve had a guest. Seems my manners need some dusting off, too.”

“No harm, ma-...er, miss Hyūga.”

“Well, best have your supper before it gets cold.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes, before you arrived. No need to fuss over me, sir. Though that reminds me...I’ve yet to ask your name.”

“Sasuke Uchiha,” he replies upon taking a seat.

“Well, will you be with us long, mister Uchiha?”

“Just until morning.”

For a moment, disappointment flickers over her face, but is soon replaced by another smile. “Well, I’d best make the most of it, then! If you need anything else, just holler. I’ll be finishing up some chores. If you turn in early, I’ll offer a goodnight now.”

Sasuke just nods, watching her leave before taking a bite.

He’ll admit, it’s damn good.

Once his plate is cleared, he peeks into the kitchen, finding it empty and leaving his cutlery by the sink. Part of him wants to inquire after his clothes, but...well, she’s already doing him a favor. No need to appear pushy. Instead, he follows the lamplight up to his room and tucks into bed for the night.

To his honest surprise, rest comes quickly, and he sleeps well past sunup. He must’ve been more tired than he’d thought. Sitting up, he pauses at the sight of folded clothes atop the chest of drawers nearby.

Seems they’re all taken care of.

Redressing, he makes to pack them only to pause. She even mended a tear in his sleeve from a knife fight he won a few nights back.

Fingering the stitches, he mulls that over before putting everything back in its proper place and hauling the saddlebags down to the main floor.

“Miss Hyūga?” he calls, tone a bit muted in the otherwise-empty building. Sounds come from the kitchen, but he doesn’t want to intrude.

“Breakfast is almost ready!” she replies, offering no further explanation. So, in the meantime, he takes out his bags and greets his mount. Seems they’re just as well-rested, bright-eyed and nickering softly.

“Not much longer and we’ll be back on the road,” he assures them softly.

Back inside, he steps in just as his hostess goes bustling past. “One last meal before you head on your way,” she explains with a smile.

“What’ll I owe you?”

“A dollar typically gets you a day.”

“But you’ve -?”

His counter is waved aside, taking her own seat to dine with him. “As I said, the busywork is a blessing itself. It’s been quiet. The mine that saw so many men come through is all but dried up, so...most of my business is past. A little longer, then I’ll likely move back to the city. It was a fun little venture, but all good things come to an end, I’m afraid.”

Having no retort, Sasuke stands for a moment before joining her. They pass with small talk, the Hyūga woman telling of the town, and Sasuke of his choice in work.

“What an adventure it must be,” she offers wistfully, cradling her mug of tea as the meal comes to a close.

“It’s rarely boring,” he agrees dryly. “But not very steady, or comfortable.”

“I can imagine. But comfortable is often just that: boring,” she replies with a soft smile.

“A happy medium isn’t easy to find.”

“Well...maybe you will someday. At least you’ll have some freedom and excitement. I’ll be heading back to my father’s. Comfortable, but...well, it’s not exactly glamorous under his thumb.”

“Oh…?”

“He’s made his fortune in the oil fields,” she replies with a sigh. “So in reality, there’s little need for me to be here, but...I wanted to try and make my own way. But, as usual...I’ll end up right back where I started.”

Sasuke hesitates. “...I see.”

“But it’s nothing to cry over. I’ll make due. But I’ll miss it here. Meeting so many new people, hearing other stories…”

“Are you...running dry on funds?”

“Yes and no. I could keep pouring money into it, but...there’s just no point, now. Not with no one to pander to.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be. It was fun while it lasted. I’ll survive. I’m just thankful I got the opportunity.”

With that, the conversation mostly dries up, and Sasuke finds he has no real reason to linger. The sooner he leaves, the sooner he’ll reach the next town, and his next bounty.

...but part of him is sad to go.

Hinata tidies up after them, walking out to the porch as he mounts up.

“Thank you very much for your hospitality, miss Hyūga,” he offers genuinely.

“Thank you for the business. But more so the company,” she replies, smiling.

“So...where’s home, if not here?”

“My father has a home in the capital. I’ll return there in a few weeks, likely to just get married off. But...I suppose that’s not a bad thing.”

For some reason, his chest tightens...but he offers no retort.

“If you ever find yourself in the big city, maybe we’ll cross paths again,” she then adds, regaining his gaze.

“...maybe. Probably plenty of crime in the city.”

“Where men go, evil follows.”

HIs lips twitch before giving a polite dip of his head. “Miss Hyūga.”

“Safe travels,” she replies, waving as he makes for the town center. Time to stock up, and hit the trail.

...who knows. Maybe sooner or later it’ll lead to the big city.

     Oookay it’s late so I’ma be brief xD      Wild west AU cuz...reasons. While not really a fan of the genre overall, I do live really rural, so...it’s kinda ingrained into me lol. I’ve written one other piece in it but that was for another ship in another event I hosted last year. I’m no expert by any means xD      I doubt I’ll do more but I guess it depends on where the prompt list takes me, and I guess what you guys think? Buuut for now I’m gonna go sleep - thanks for reading!