#still just a splotchy doodle but whatevs

[creaturefeaster]

I have never seen or used a pottery wheel in my life and i didn't take the time to look one up 🤘

[nerosdayinanime]

Please post more about giyu just dating everyone

i should...... gonna start right now cuz ive actually thought about mitsugiyu for the GiyuusFuckingSad au- when hes still moping around in the cafeteria corner she pops over because she saw shinobu, shinobu stops her excited rambling and explains that its Quiet Time and shes like 'oh! okay! i can be quiet!' and she just hangs around to doodle in her sketchbook across from them. giyuu once again baffled by another random girl deciding she wants to hang out near(with?) him when hes literally never said a word in response.

she sees him in the halls and tries to talk with him, he responds minimally but shes encouraged by any response at all and talks to him outside the cafeteria any chance she gets- giyuu's incredibly confused as to why she likes talking to him so much, but one time when he realizes he missed the turn to his class about three halls ago finally notices how much he enjoys listening to her stories (he ended up just walking her to class to hear the end of the story, he was a few minutes late when he got back to his own)

when shinobu starts inviting him to little outings with her friends mitsuri's the first to welcome him, kyojuro and suma quickly follow and hes. very overwhelmed. why did he get introduced to the loudest ones of the friend group first?? contrary to what he thought would happen though, they actually love him and despite how hype the three of them get (and how not hype he usually is) he doesn't ever feel left out or pushed to the side (physically speaking too- suma frequently hangs off him since hes the most stable one around now and mitsuri & kyojuro aren't hesitant to pull him in to make him focus on whatever they're talking about. he likes how free they are with affection towards him like that)

months later he's acquainted with and knows the whole group and they're all out at a restaurant chatting and having fun- giyuu notices how entranced everyone else is at kyojuro's retelling of a story and he can't help but think how much sabito would like them all... mitsuri stops paying attention to kyo and turns to him, "Giyuu? Are you okay?" "Yeah, why?" "You're crying"

the grief finally hits, the tears get heavier despite his attempts at drying them before he starts to panic and excuses himself- he practically runs out and mitsuri worriedly glances back at everyone before excusing herself and running after him. she follows him to the side of the restaurant in the little alley where hes having his breakdown and hugs him- he buries his face in her shoulder and holds back shaking like a leaf for a while before the worst of it passes. she asks what happened, "I-i just- he'd like you all.. he would've loved to meet you.." she knows who hes talking about- well.. she knows he was extremely important to giyuu, and that something happened and he's not around anymore, and that its extremely painful for giyuu to talk about so he just doesn't. she says shes honored by his thought and goes on to try to calm him down/cheer him up, his face looks a mess from the splotchy flush and eye liner- it got smudged to hell and back and hes a little embarrassed by it. only for a moment tho because mitsuri immediately offers to fix it for him. when they're finally ready to go back in they notice obanai standing at the entrance of the alleyway, blocking the view from outsiders. "aw! you're so thoughtful obanai!" "You two good to head back inside now?" "how long were you standing there?" "long enough, you worried everyone running off like that" "sorry.." "don't apologize, idiot. c'mon, lets go eat" and they followed an excited mitsuri back to the rest of the group.

after that mitsuri started inviting him to her apartment to practice makeup art on him since she knew he was okay with it. he was good at sitting still and he liked how gently she touched and moved his face however while she worked, quiet and serene with her music playing from the room over- the first thing she tried out was a simple little water-esque mark on his left cheek. when he was finally allowed to look at it he remembered the time when they were kids and sabito backhanded him there for saying he wished he had died with his sister. remembered how badly he wished he could have gone with sabito too. remembered his final words, 'promise me you'll love again'

he looks back up at mitsuri with a little smile, maybe that promise isn't as impossible for me to keep as i thought. "i like it" "oooh! i just had another idea! what if i made it look like a stream of water coming out the corners of your mouth!?"

[comm-caribou]

Chapter Sixteen: Wonderful

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Battle trauma, PTSD, panic attacks, major death, dismemberment, angst (let me know if I missed any!)

————

It had been awhile since Fang took a shower. He didn’t like the vulnerability of it, nor the way his body looked now.

Still, he felt the water would clear his head.

He had removed his arm. Even though the doctor and nurses all promised it was waterproof, he didn’t want to risk breaking it.

Juliette would end up buying him a new one without questioning it. He knew this fact all too well.

Everyone else was in bed, so he was all alone.

He always found it weird that the showers were in stalls rather than an open floor plan.

We all look the same. Why waste money putting up these walls?

He turned on the water, getting off the rest of his clothes before testing the water, making sure it was lukewarm.

He stepped under the water, letting it run over his face and scarred body.

Maybe it was so troopers like me could disappear.

****

Juliette held Cooper’s helmet in her hands, looking at the splotchy designs closer.

“I never realized they were hands,” Juliette said tracing tiny fingers on the side of his helmet. “You painted them for the little girl who named you.”

Cooper sat at her desk, flipping though her sketchbooks, “she wanted me to pick her up, so I did. Her mother told her I’m a clone trooper, but she just keep merging the two words.”

She placed her hand over a hand, “they’re so small. How old was she?”

“Three.” Cooper paused on a page, “is that Fang?”

Juliette looked over, “yeah, I doodled a bunch of you.”

“Why did you draw him so small and cu-“ Cooper did a double take, “is that grumpy one suppose to be me?”

“It’s not suppose to look realistic,” Juliette giggled, “they’re just little doodles.”

Cooper chuckled a little, “hmm, that must be Keks then.”

She drew the Corporal hugging a cookie bigger than him.

“And that’s Mirage.”

She drew the ARC standing proud showing off his hair, adding sparkles around his head for emphasis.

“Boomerang.”

The medic was wrapped in bandages, arms extended out like a mummy.

“Coyote.”

The blue eyed trooper was wrapped in his blanket happily eating noodles like at dinner that night.

“That’s Tracks and Goose.”

The silver haired pilot was holding something over Goose’s head just out of his mustached, shorter brother’s reach.

“And that must be Hardwire.”

The Commander was simply just standing hands folded behind his back, looking all authoritative, but she gave him a little smile.

“That’s what I got so far,” Juliette said, “I got some ideas for the rest of pilots.”

Cooper set her sketchbook down on the desk, “you’re very talented.”

“Thank you,” she said, but something was still bothering her.

The Sergeant lazily spun in her chair, staring up at her ceiling.

“Cooper, not that I’m not grateful you’re here,” Juliette treaded carefully, “why didn’t you just shut the door and keep walking?”

Cooper’s dark eyes shifted to her, “because you were crying. I couldn’t just walk away knowing you were in here crying over something my brother probably said. No offense, but Fang is kind of impulsive, so whatever he said you shouldn’t take to heart.”

“He was mad I went off to find those missing troops and took on a Wampa,” Juliette hugged her knees. “I thought that’s what I’m suppose to do. Keep you all safe, I mean.”

“I guess that is part of your job,” Cooper agreed, “but I guess we’re just not use to a General who treats us like you do. Our last one certainly didn’t.”

Juliette only heard mentions and whispers of her predecessor, and it was nothing nice.

The Jedi who cost Fang his arm, Coyote his squad, Tracks his voice, and Hardwire his face, Juliette studied Cooper’s relaxed face. I wonder… would Cooper tell me?

“Cooper, what exactly did the Jedi do to you all?” Juliette asked.

Cooper turned to her, “has no one told you?”

“I didn’t think it was something Hardwire would want to talk about,” Juliette admitted, “and I tried asking Fang once, but he turned it to talking about a rock cave he once saw.”

Cooper nodded thoughtfully, “I guess, the best I can say is, this Jedi didn’t like clones. Specifically, individualized clones. He wanted us to be exactly alike.”

“That’s so stupid,” Juliette shook her head disgusted.

“I know,” Cooper agreed, “he claims he was weeding out imperfects, to make the army stronger.”

“I think your individuality makes you stronger,” Juliette said, “I like that none of you are alike.”

“I appreciate that,” Cooper smiled. “I need to get to bed, and as do you. Who knows what our next mission will be.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Juliette said, “I appreciate you visiting me.”

“I know,” he said smugly. “Goodnight, General.”

He left her.

She was alone again.

She got up, and went to her desk.

Looking at the open sketchbook, her eyes were drawn to her little doodle of Fang.

It was just a cute little version of him in a heart.

She flipped to the next page, and sat down as she began sketching out Cosmos.

****

While the men were use to waking up suddenly, it had been awhile since it was an alarm.

The noise dragged Keks and his brothers out of their restless sleep, and they all went scrambling in organized chaos to prepare for the new trouble that plagued their lives.

“What’s going on?” Mirage turned to Cooper, already on his holo pad.

“We’ve been requested for immediate aid,” Cooper stated. “Hopefully everyone including the General got some sleep.”

“She had a big day,” Keks laughed, “I’m sure she fell asleep right in Fang’s arms.”

Cooper gave him a look.

Keks chocked it up to Cooper just being grumpy, and carried on to get his weapons.

When he saw Fang heading to the hanger alone without Juliette or Coyote, that raised more questions in his mind.

****

She checked her gauntlets, making sure the safety was activated as she stood next to Hardwire.

The last of the men scrambled onto the gunships, and they boarded.

“You know who General Grievous is, correct?” Hardwire quietly asked her.

“He’s a Jedi Hunter,” she stated, “basically Count Dooku’s most feared lackey.”

“And he should never be faced alone,” Hardwire said it like an order. “He killed our first General.”

Juliette understood, but still felt annoyed.

I was trained to fight since I could walk, she thought. A Jedi hunter doesn’t scare me.

Hardwire put on a holo projection, and began explaining the plan of how they were going to be aiding the 41st Elite Corps until General Luminara returned.

Their mission wasn’t suppose to involve danger, which is why the Jedi Master let them go alone.

The idea of ever leaving her men alone—even with minimal risks—was something Juliette couldn’t fathom. Not only because she wanted to protect them from the cruel galaxy, because she couldn’t picture living her life without them in it.

Even if it meant having Mirage tailing her.

She could feel the presence of his hand, already hovering behind her back ready to catch her if she fell.

She turned her head slightly, catching Fang in the corner of her visor. The usually sweet trooper was stiff, rigid, like he was ready to snap at any second.

Maybe when they got back to base, she’d find a moment alone with just him. She’d hold Fang close and assure him he’s enough, that she’s still right here, and she wasn’t going to disappear on him despite how much he hurt her when he left earlier that night.

The booming of explosives brought her back to reality, reminding her she’s in a battle zone as they touched down.

Hardwire turned to her, “stay with me, we have to get to Commander Gree.”

She looked for Fang again, but he was gone.

Mirage’s hand pressed on her lower back, “one foot in front of the other, General.”

She stepped off, and followed Hardwire despite the pull of the men’s cries of anguish as they were shot down by countless droids.

****

Wherever Coyote went, Fang went.

It seemed his former squad leader was following Keks, Mick, and Buck.

He would ask what the Corporal’s plan was, but the comm channel was being flooded with his brothers crying out for aid.

“Man down!”

“Man down!”

“We need a medic!”

“Medic!”

“There’s too many of them!”

“Medic!”

“Keep firing!”

He heard Commander Gree was safe at some temporary base, which meant Juliette was safe.

Last thing he needed to hear was she engaged that monstrous Separatist General.

Keks slid down a hill, and they all followed.

“Corporal?” Buck finally spoke, “what’s our current objective?”

“Retrieving one of our down scouts.” Keks stated, “reports say one of our ARFs is still alive, and ve are going to get him home.”

“So a rescue then?” Mick confirmed.

“Affirmative.” Keks fired on a couple droids, then moved forward.

“Sounds like a plan the General would be all over,” Buck laughed, “she loves rescue missions!”

Coyote sighed, “stay focused, Buck.”

“Yes, sir,” Buck responded as if talking to an officer.

Fang turned to him, “sir?”

“I do outrank them by experience,” Coyote shrugged, “although he’s not wrong, Juliette is always jumping on these types of missions.”

“It’s risky.” Fang mumbled.

“You okay?” Coyote asked, “you seem… off.”

“I’m fine.” Fang barked.

“No you’re not.” Coyote sighed, “you better not let it get in the way of the mission. It will get you killed if you’re not focused, and we can’t have that.”

Fang sighed, “I just don’t like her risking herself like she did on Hoth. She could’ve died.”

“Fang,” Coyote softened his voice, “she was a skilled fighter before she found us. She is still a skilled fighter now, and there’s so much we don’t know yet.”

Fang had to agree.

As always, Coyote was right. Coyote always was the wisest out of all of Pack Squad, and the most in tune to their individual problems.

“Look,” Coyote sighed, “let’s focus on getting that ARF, then we can talk this out. Okay?”

Fang nodded, and hurried ahead blasting two droids as they slipped into the tree-line.

****

It was driving her crazy.

She felt like a caged animal in this makeshift base, going over battle plans on screens instead of executing them.

Juliette wanted to be with her men.

Fighting by their side.

Hardwire must’ve known this. His arm was looped into her’s, keeping her in place at the table as Gree and other officers argued.

“Let me go,” she whispered to Hardwire.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back, “but I won’t.”

“We just got to keep holding this position,” one officer stated.

“Well obviously!” Cooper exclaimed, “that’s all we’re doing, and we’re getting slaughtered.”

The word felt like knife in her gut being twisted.

She tugged on Hardwire’s arm, but he stood firm like a mountain.

She hissed, “let me go.”

“Just wait.” Hardwire’s hand gripped her’s, “not until we have a plan.”

“Do you have a plan, General Trix?” Gree turned to her, “or is your plan just to run into danger, guns blazing, and no regard to anyone’s safety?”

Cooper placed his hand to his helmet, as if pinching the bridge of nose, “why did you say that?”

“No regard to anyone’s safety?” Juliette repeated. “Seriously, Commander Gree? Are you really asking me if my plan is to put any one of you in danger?”

“I doubt you have any plan in facing a lightsaber manic like Grievous,” Gree’s sergeant stated. “Just because you held your own in a few battles doesn’t mean you can fight real threats.”

Juliette clenched her fists, “better out there fighting with the men, than talking in circles in here.”

“We’re not talking in circles.” Gree waved his hand dismissively.

“I’ve heard the phrase ‘we need a plan’ eleven times already,” Juliette turned to Hardwire, “let me go out there.”

“And do what exactly?” Gree demanded, “if you think you’re so smart, what’s your plan?“

Juliette sighed, dragging Hardwire, “we’re going to go push back. Cooper, stay here and keep radio contact with me.”

“Yes, General,” Cooper acknowledged.

“Wait!” Gree chased them out of the tent.

“Juliette,” Hardwire warned, “this is technically Gree’s mission.”

“Exactly, General, and I-“

“You said you want those ships down, correct? Rocket launchers will do that.”

“Juliette, I understand you’re frustrated but we don’t have rocket launchers.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Hardwire. Trust me, my Commander. I can do this.”

Juliette released his hand, and he let her go.

****

It was quiet now.

Buck and Mick were up ahead, keeping a lookout for both droids and the wounded ARF they got reports about.

Keks knew he didn’t have to worry about them. While Buck had a tendency to get shot, he always managed to push though the pain until danger was gone. Mick was alert, it was like the trooper had sixth sense for when someone took aim on him.

What Keks had to worry about was Coyote and Fang.

The unbreakable pair bonded by both training and the events that took place in the cave.

Coyote was an excellent soldier, a fine leader, but once Fang was present his ability to focus would dissipate. Fang was impulsive, almost always getting stuck on a thought and having to follow it though.

“You two hanging in back there?” Keks called over his shoulder.

“Yes, sir,” Coyote answered.

Fang didn’t say a word.

That’s not promising, Keks waited for them to catch up, “talk to me, Fang. Vhat’s on your mind?”

“It’s nothing,” Fang grumbled.

“Seems like something,” Keks stated. “Is it about vhy you aren’t speaking vith the General?”

“You two aren’t talking?” Coyote turned to Fang.

“It’s nothing,” Fang assured, “I just don’t like how she always risks herself for us. Yes, I love that she cares so much she’d do anything to protect us, however not at the cost of her life. We are suppose to fight and die for the Republic.”

“Just because ve are meant to die, that doesn’t mean I vant to die,” Keks said, “I vould love to live to see the end of this var, go drinking vith my brothers every leave, and just have a real life.”

Fang stayed quiet, then said lowly, “what about her life?”

“She chose to be a General,” Coyote cut in, “this is her choice.”

“I feel like it’s in her training,” Fang argued, “she told me her father use to train everyday for hours on end to protect others.”

“I don’t really see vhat’s vrong vith that,” Keks admitted.

“She could…” Fang trailed off, shaking his head.

Keks knew what he meant, “she could die.”

Fang made a broken noise, and pushed past them to get out of this confrontation.

“Did you have to make him cry?” Coyote sighed.

“I think he vas going to anyways,” Keks said quietly. “It’d be easier if he just told her.”

“Told her what?” Coyote stepped over some down tree trunks.

Keks ran his hands over the scorch marks of a lightsaber, already dreading what they were going to find soon.

“That he loves her,” Keks stated.

****

The missile hit one vulture droid, and it crashed into the other. They collided into the ground, explosively wiping out a chunk of the droids while illuminating the unscathed to be slotted.

“Why didn’t you just say you had a missile launcher?” Gree asked Juliette as the men cheered.

“You wouldn’t let me get a word in,” Juliette stated, “not to mention, it’s attached to my back.”

“I thought that was your jet pack.” Hardwire admitted.

“It’s both.” Juliette corrected.

Mirage chuckled, carrying another wounded to the medical tent they were guarding.

“Just throwing it out there,” Boomerang said, “please never give Mirage a jet pack.”

“I’m sure I’d be a good flyer,” Mirage set his injured brother down, ruffling his hair.

“You can barely walk,” Boomerang argued.

“Looks like you pushed them back some.” Gree said, looking through his binoculars. “They’re either regrouping or preparing to cover Grievous’s escape.”

“I’m thinking the second option,” Hardwire stated.

“Should we go hunt him down then?” Juliette asked. After seeing so many men come back clinging to life die from lightsaber sustained injuries, she’d happily attempt to take that heartless monster down.

“I’d advise against it,” Gree pat her shoulder, “not until the Jedi arrives through that blockade.”

Juliette turned to Hardwire, “how’s Captain Stickler?”

“Last I heard he said the shields are still up,” Hardwire said, “just focus on the ground assault for now.”

But what about Cosmos? My pilots? It’s the most dangerous job in the Republic. I’ve seen the casualty numbers…

She had to shake it off.

Somewhere out there on the ground was Fang.

As upset with him she was, she wanted her boyfriend to be okay too.

****

That explosion was caused by Juliette.

Fang knew it in his heart that that was the doing of his girl.

So full of surprises, he thought as they came to last reported sighting of the ARF.

“The report said that they found the General here,” Keks explained, “he engaged the squad and they had to retreat.”

“So, we’re here why?“ Buck asked.

“Because one vas hurt,” Keks stood on top of the mess of broken trees. “He’s here.”

“Not to sound like a downer, but…” Mick trailed off, “you know?”

What if he’s dead?

Fang turned to Coyote.

His brother who ran back into the cave because he had to be sure he wasn’t leaving his Pack behind.

We’re here to be sure.

Keks knelt down, surveying the mess, “Hound? Are you in there, vod?”

Nothing.

“Hound?” Keks carefully moved though the mess, “Hound?”

Fang looked around, but nothing caught his eye.

“Hound?” Coyote called, “where are you?”

“Hound?” Buck moved some wood with his boot.

Mick was off ahead when he jumped back, falling on his back and scrambling away.

“What?” Buck ran to him.

“I found a leg…”

Fang stopped, feeling a tingling in his arm.

Burning, crushing, excruciating tingling in his whole right side like his body was being lit on fire again.

Coyote came over to him, softly whispering, “hey, you okay?”

Fang focused on his breathing, sinking down to the ground.

Coyote knelt down, lifting off his helmet, “it’s okay. I’m right here, look at me. Focus on me.”

He didn’t fight Coyote when he removed Fang’s helmet, and he tried to focus on his brother’s ice blue eyes.

Coyote took his hands, “you’re not in danger. I’m right here, Fang, I’m not going anywhere.”

Fang’s gaze shifted to behind him, to a white mass.

“Hound.” Fang refocused.

Coyote turned, “Keks! Over here!”

Fang crawled over, moving the branches and taking his brother’s arm.

He felt limp, but he dragged him out.

The scout had wrapped his leg and tied it off at his knee.

Like Fang, his missing limb was on his right side.

Coyote leaned down, listening closely.

Keks approached, “is he…?”

Coyote let out a sigh of relief, “he’s alive.”

****

Keks knelt down, lifting off the ARF trooper’s helmet.

The young scout must’ve passed out he concluded, and he lightly tapped his filthy cheek.

Hound stirred, whimpering as he cracked his eyes open.

“Sergeant Digger reported you missing,” Keks smiled under his helmet, “ready to go home, kid?”

“Corporal?” Hound weakly smiled, “hi, brother.”

Mick stepped around them, “I’m going to throw you over my shoulder, okay?”

Hound nodded, sitting up very vaguely looking over his missing limb.

Keks helped steady him, “you seem a little loopy, Hound. Did you take a sedative?”

“Uh huh,” Hound blinked lazily. “Mutt gave it to me for emergencies.”

“That’s good then,” Keks placed Hound’s helmet back on, “come on, lads. Ve need to get back to safety.”

Mick began walking with Buck beside him, and Hound just hung off without a care in the universe.

Keks wondered if it was the pain killers, their training, or just Hound’s attitude that was leaving him so at eased.

“I still don’t quite understand why we came out here, sir,” Fang admitted, “but I’m glad we found him.”

“You’ll understand,” Keks said, as they began moving again. “Soon ve vill be home, eating dinner, and you’ll be back to your old self. That is, once you make up vith Juliette.”

Fang sighed, “I doubt it. After what I did, she’s probably still mad at me for walking out like that.”

“Just talk to her.” Coyote sighed, “get that through your thick skull, will you?”

Keks chuckled, then went up ahead to catch up with Buck and Mick.

He pat Hound’s helmet, and went off ahead with his gun ready.

“Keep alert,” Keks reminded them, “that explosion probably pushed them back towards us.”

“Yes, sir,” they all answered, except Fang.

He’s stuck in his head. Keks switched to his private comm frequency with Coyote, “keep an eye on Fang. He’s not himself today.”

“I agree,” Coyote answered.

Fang finally spoke up, “droids. Up ahead.”

“Wonderful.” Keks said, “get into the trees, before they see us.”

Buck and Mick ducked down, letting Hound down easy. Coyote pulled Fang to behind a tree trunk. Keks lowered down behind a shrub.

The droids came running by, bickering and yelling about retreating.

“Run for it!” One of the battle droids bellowed.

Typical of them, they all began repeating, “roger roger.”

There’s too many, Keks looked around.

He carefully moved, staying close to the ground.

“Men,” he said in the private comm, “there’s a path that vay. You need to follow it back to the base.”

“What about you?” Coyote asked.

“I’ll be right behind you.” Keks said, “after I cover you.”

Mick noticed the twist of trees, and took a quick dive down the pathway.

Buck double-checked, then followed him.

“Wait,” a droid called. “I heard something.”

Several droids stopped, approaching the tree Coyote and Fang were hidden behind.

The droids clicked their blasters, prepared to take aim.

Not on my watch, Keks stood up.

He fired on the droids, blasting a few heads off.

“Come and get me.” Keks taunted, running the opposite way.

“Keks! What are you doing?” Coyote’s voice filled his helmet.

“Get out of here,” Keks ordered, “I’ll lead them away!”

“Keks, you can’t face them alone!“ Fang argued, “let-“

“Coyote, there’s a file in my bunk,” Keks heard a bolt of plasma whoosh by his head, “give it to Cooper. He’ll know what to do with it.”

Keks ducked behind a tree, firing on the perusing droids.

“Yes, sir,” Coyote said, “goodbye, Keks.”

A bolt pierced his shoulder, and knocked his blaster from his hand.

Another through his chest.

Keks felt his body giving up, as he pulled himself behind the tree, taking out his thermal detonator.

They surrounded him, blasters aimed right at him.

Keks squeezed his eyes shut, I didn’t want to die.

“Goodbye.”

[wish-i-wasnt-a-coward]

Everything and Nothing

Pairings: eventual LAMP, and Demus

Warnings: tattoo mention, tiny argument, food, crying, self deprecating thoughts, feeling unintelligent, and hurt/comfort. 

Word count: 1,248

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 The Prince twins sat on the floor in Remus’s room. Papers scattered around the two, a stark white against the dark green carpet. Remus furiously scribbled on another piece of paper, drawing frantically. 

He let out a dramatic groan, “I can’t get it” they complained, “yah you will” their twin replied, “you always do. Now shush I’m trying to do homework”. Remus glared at her and looked back down at the drawing. It was a broken crown tangled with briers. A cool design but not cool enough for Remus.

Each tattoo that Remus illegally had symbolized something. Their first tattoo was a small crown on their neck for their brother. There was a heart split three ways on his lower leg for their parents. As well as doodles he had done with the tattoo gun over scars to represent each incident. As well as five dots on their collar bone.  

Now Remus wanted a new one. Their world had just changed a bunch, it made sense that he would change with it. They just couldn’t decide how they wanted to change. 

Roman stretched, looking over at the frustrated boy. “Time for a break?” he asked. Remus just nodded.

Roman nudged him with his foot, “it isn’t just the tattoo is it” she observed, “somethings up, what is it”. Remus looked up at their twin with an almost unreadable expression on their face. 

There was a moment of painful silence.  

“You have a crush!!!!!” Roman screeched. “Nooooooooooooo” Remus wined burying his burning face in his hands. “Who is it, Who is it, Who is it!!!!” Roman chanted practically vibrating with excitement. 

Remus glared at her through his fingers, “none of your damn business” he said with a growl. Roman just groaned and flopped onto their lap. “Come on, I’m not gonna tell anyone… ok, I might tell Pat” he admitted, “but I can help!!!!”. 

“Were not having this decision, I would rather walk down the stairs like a normal person” Remus snapped. 

Roman sighed and sat up. “Ok, finnnneeee. But if you do ever want to talk about it I’m here” with that she scooped up her papers and walked out. 

Remus looked down at the crumpled paper in their hands. 

He looked up at the door and at the paper again. A smile formed on their face as an idea slowly came to them. He grabbed a new piece of paper and began drawing. 

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Patton’s brain was going to melt out of his ears. He didn’t get it, the chemistry homework was so gosh darn confusing. 

Of course, Logan was already done with his homework. He sat cross-legged on the floor across from Pat, working on a new chapter in his fanfiction. Roman was almost done with the writing homework. Though she was more often than not, distracted by Virgil who was draped across his lap showing him memes. 

Pat looked back down at the question. He knew that he should just skip it and go back once he was done with the worksheet. But he had only understood a few of the previous questions and he really had to do this question. 

Patton felt tears well up in his eyes, ‘nonononono, I can’t cry now. Hold it together pat.’. He stared intensely at his paper, blinking vigorously in a futile attempt to keep the tears in. 

God, he was crying over fucking homework in front of his friends, how weak was he. Why were they even friends with him? He was stupid and couldn’t just be happy and horrible at everything he did and- 

A choked sob escaped his lips, he clasped his hand over his mouth but it was too late. Every head in the room had snapped towards him at the sound. 

Virgil jumped up from his spot on Roman. He gently pulled the worksheet out of Patton’s hands and wrapped him in his arms.  

Patton stayed in Virgil’s warm embrace as he sobbed. Virgil just held him, muttering condolences and rubbing the poor boy’s back. Logan scooted across the room adding himself to the cuddle pile as subtly as he could. 

After a few minutes, Patton had calmed down considerably but remained latched onto Virgil and Logan, who weren’t going to let him go anyway. Roman set down the glass of water he had gotten for Patton and wrapped her arms around the boys.

“Would you like to talk about it Patton?” Logan softly asked from his spot in the hug. “Not right now” came a muffled reply, Roman felt his heart break a little at how raw Patton’s voice was. Whatever had caused this had another thing coming.

They sat with their arms wrapped around Patton for a few more minutes before Virgil pulled away slightly. Patton’s face was red and splotchy but gave a weak smile which did reassure Virgil a tiny bit. “Look Pat, I know you don’t want to talk about it but we’re here for you,” Virgil mumbled softly, “we want to help, and that’s much easier when we know what’s wrong”. Patton looked way, “it’s stupid, I don’t want t-” Roman cut him off, “if it made you cry it’s not stupid, and whatever you were about to say is complete bullshit, you’re not anything bad for talking about your feelings”. 

Patton sighed heavily, “I... I don’t- understand the homework or *hic* a lot of the assignments. I’ve worked really hard but- my grades are-” his eyes welled up again, “I just feel so stupid”. 

After a beat of silence, Logan reached over and pulled Patton’s face towards him, until they were eye to eye. “Look at me, Patton. You are one of the smartest people I know- don’t give me that look, you are!!” he said almost angrily as Patton blinked at him tearfully “You understand people and emotions and a million things I can’t fathom” Logan took a breath to calm his now red face “Furthermore! There are many different types of intelligence. Academic subjects are not a reflection of your actual brainpower. However, if it is causing you distress my offer to help you still stand- and before you say anything. No, it’s not annoying, I’m offering, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to”. 

Patton sat, practically on Virgil’s lap, holding Romans hand, face milometers away Logan's, and just nodded his face flushed red, completely stunned. Logan nodded satisfied and let go of Patton’s face. 

“As much as I would like to stay and continue to figuratively slap some sense into Patton, my parents are expecting me home. Will you be alright if I go Pat?” Logan said, pulling himself off the floor. Patton just nodded his mind going a mile a minute. “I should probably go home too, thank you guys. I- umm, I’m sorry about your shirt V” Pat replied standing with Logan. “It’s fine Pat, nothing a wash can’t fix, have a nice walk home”. Virgil said with a smile and one last hug. 

“Would you like me to walk you home?” Logan asked, “No, I have some things to think about, but thanks Lo”, before walking off the porch Logan grabbed his arm, “I wasn’t kidding about the tutoring thing. Please text me when you're available” Patton nodded, “I will. And thanks Logan, you’re a really great friend” Logan flushed a bit at the comment but nodded and let go of the boy. 

The two split after a brief goodbye. Traveling their two separate roads home, both thinking furiously. 

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 3

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,587

Warnings: none

A/N: I wanted to give Reader a family and this is the easiest way to do it. Btw Peggy’s husband isn’t Steve, I have other plans for him ;) Enjoy!

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

The rest of the week went by, and you kept hoping Bucky would come back. You hadn’t seen him since he’d left 300 dollars under his napkin after visiting you at work. You had tucked the bills into your bra, knowing they would be safe there, and walked home at the end of your shift.

Now it was Thursday afternoon and you were craving a day off.

Natasha’s apartment was spacious and the oversized glass window bathed the living room in natural sunlight. The apartment was a gift from Sam. Obviously.

You dropped your purse on the sofa –your bed- and laid out the bills on the coffee table. It was made of marble and brass, another gift from Sam.

You didn’t know what to do with the money, so you took it wherever you went, to keep it safe. You wanted to return it to Bucky. It was too much and you weren’t used to random acts of kindness.

You sunk into the cushion and blew out a sigh as you stared at the money. The persistent vibration of your phone against your thigh pulled you out of your thoughts. Half expecting it to be Natasha, you answered without looking at the caller ID.

The operator told you that Scott Lang was calling from Saint Quentin State Prison, and asked if you would accept the charges. You agreed. You always agreed.

“Splotchy, I need your help.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back against the cushion. “I told you to stop calling me that, Scott.”

It was a silly nickname.

As a child, your mother dubbed you splotchy because of the colourful doodles you painted on the living room walls, and your siblings, who were roughly a few years older than you, had loved using that nickname. Especially since they knew you disliked it.

Their support and endless enthusiasm played a big part in your artistic journey, nurturing that spark into a flame. What started out as a childlike fascination with colours and shapes became your whole life. No one was surprised when you decided to pursue a degree in fine arts.

After the death of her husband, Peggy Carter adopted five children; a little boy from San Francisco, a little girl from Wakanda, twins from Sokovia and a little girl whose birth parents were still in high school. You were the last one, the only one she adopted as a baby.

“Is it offensive to call an artist splotchy?”

“It’s irrelevant. I haven’t painted in months,” you replied. “And we’re not kids anymore, you can use my name.”

“I’ve been calling you Splotchy for so long, I forgot your actual name.”

“You’re so funny,” you deadpanned. “What do you need, Scott?”

Scott’s tone changed suddenly, his voice grew agitated. “I need you to call Maggie. She isn’t picking up when I call her.”

“Scott,” you sighed.

“I haven’t talked to Cassie since her birthday,” he cut you off, pleading. “Please, I just want to talk to my little girl.”

Maggie was Scott’s ex-wife. Six months after his incarceration, she had filed for divorce. Natasha thought it was a real dick move but you didn’t blame Maggie. She was alone, her husband was in jail –for basically being a dumbass although the official charge was embezzlement and destruction of property- and she had a kid to raise.

Maggie wasn’t a saint but she was a good mother, and Cassie was a smart and healthy kid. Now you knew what to do with Bucky’s money.

“I’ll call her,” you said. “Listen, I’m going to put 50 bucks on your book. Buy yourself a bar of soap, I can smell you from here.” Scott interrupted you with a monotone ‘har har’. You chuckled. “I’ll buy Cassie a Christmas gift on your behalf, all right? I think she wanted a bike.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chanted over the phone, his voice muffled as if he was holding the receiver too close to his mouth. “Are you sure you can afford it? I know it isn’t easy for you. Between living in New York and paying for mom���s nursing home, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting off the conversation. “I’m not alone, Okoye helps.”

“And Wanda?”

“She sends postcards from time to time.”

The line went quiet for a moment. “I want to get out of here so bad,” Scott groaned. “Everything’s gone to shit since I went to jail.”

“Everything’s gone to shit since Pietro died, Scott.” You both remained silent, remembering your late brother. Just thinking about him made your eyes start to prickle with tears, so you cleared your throat and ended the call. “I’ll talk to Maggie. You’ll be out soon, just... stay out of trouble. Love you.”

You left your phone on the table and kicked off your shoes before you lay down on the sofa for a well-deserved nap. In your dreams your brothers weren’t either dead or in prison, your mother hadn’t been diagnosed with Alzheimer, and you weren’t a burden to your friend.

If you were lucky enough, you wouldn’t even dream at all.

The next day, Bucky arrived at the hotel at six thirty and you playfully glared at him from across the lounge. He wasn’t stupid, he knew why you were glaring at him. At least he had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Just so you know, you bought yourself about 30 breakfasts,” you told him, referring to the far-too-generous tip he had left the other day.

“A man’s gotta eat,” he replied with a boyish cockiness that made him look stupidly attractive. You were too flustered to find a good comeback.

You brought him his cup of coffee and let him enjoy his breakfast while you attended to your other clients. It was an unusually busy day, the room was packed with families who were getting ready to explore Manhattan. You didn’t have time to chat with Bucky and he didn’t stay long. You saw him flinch a couple of times; the muscles in his shoulders pulled tight and his eyes darting left and right.

He left another ridiculously generous tip, along with a handwritten note. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day x.

Bucky came back the following week, and even though it was a quiet morning, you made sure to find him a table in a secluded spot. He didn’t notice when you slipped the 300 dollars into the pocket of his coat. You could be pretty sneaky, too.

“Mmmh,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “I looked at your Instagram.”

“Oh,” you glanced at your shoes, embarrassed. “Wait, you’re on Instagram? I have a hard time imagining you scrolling through your feed.”

He laughed a little. “I’ll admit I’m not as tech savvy as you youngsters, but I’m not a fossil. I use it to look at the pictures my sister post of my niblings.”

“Cute,” you grinned.

“Anyway,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I love your work. It’s very unique; a cross between Impressionism and Post-impressionism. It’s realistic, and yet there’s something different...” his face scrunched up as he tried to look for the right word. “There’s something in your paintings, something that isn’t here in real life but perhaps should be. It’s hard to explain. It’s a feeling, a color, a pattern; it’s indiscernible but it’s there.” He looked up at you, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “I’m not making much sense, am I?”

You blinked, suddenly stunned that someone had such strong opinions about your work. There was nothing but sincerity in his ocean-blue eyes, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.

“I, um-” you cleared your throat, “Thank you, I didn’t know that. I look up to Monet, obviously. His work is phenomenal, and I also have a soft spot for Van Gogh.” You ran a hand across your face. “Sorry, I’m a little emotional. The people who compliment my art are usually my siblings, and Nat.”

“And now me,” he said with a warm smile. “And soon a lot more people.”

Flustered, you bit your bottom lip. “That would be nice.”

Bucky nodded. He gathered his silverware and set them on his plate, trying to buy time. You watched him hesitate before he turned to you. “I noticed that your last post was from almost a year ago.”

“Yeah,” you said with a casual shrug. “I don’t really paint anymore. I’m too tired when I get home and supplies are expensive.”

“Of course,” he pursed his lips in thought. “Are you free this afternoon? I was wondering if we could meet for coffee.”

You tried not to show your surprise but his words made the sleeping butterflies in your stomach crack an eye open, their interest piqued.

Was he asking you out? He’d come to your workplace every week since your brief ‘date’. He always gave you more-than-generous tips, and he listened to you with a combination of close attention and warmth that made you weak at the knees.

He’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for anyone but maybe he had changed his mind. Agh, down girl! He just wanted a friend.

You looked into his beautiful eyes, seeing a myriad of expressions cross his face before he smiled at you.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, angel.”

It was an honest lie, just hearing him call you angel felt like a punch to the stomach. The butterflies were dancing around, reborn, and chanting the word ‘date’.

“If you don’t like coffee, we can have tea, or ice cream,” he said, “anything as long as you can sit down with me.”

You snorted. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, smiling. “This is my number. Pick a place and I’ll meet you there.”

After breakfast, you closed the restaurant and started cleaning the Lounge. You brought everything back to the kitchen, stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on. Then you put away the unopened miniature jams, butter and whatnot, and gathered the remaining patisseries and fresh fruits in a basket that you would later bring to the reception.

You worked mechanically. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting job you’d ever had.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. It was easy to let your mind wander into the cosy and dangerous territory of this being a real date.

You decided to go to the Australian coffee shop near Natasha’s apartment. It was popular but not as crowded as Starbucks, which suited you fine.

After your shift, you removed your uniform and changed into the spare set of clothes you kept in your locker for emergencies. Emergencies being an impromptu date or a night out with Nat. You dug around in your purse for your lipstick; the nice one, the Carter Red as your mother called it.

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips, staining them. You only wore it on special occasions, and you weren’t sure Bucky deserved your full red pout.

You walked to the café with a little pep in your step and a confident smile on your face. The freezing temperature didn’t matter, you were too giddy to care. It was a date, it had to be, why else would he ask you to meet for coffee?  

You smiled when you saw him through the coffee shop window. He was chatting with the waiter as the latter set two mugs on the table.

“Hi again!” You shrugged out of your jacket and took a seat.

“I hope you like hot chocolate. Carl, here, says it’s their best seller,” Bucky said, smiling kindly at the waiter.

“Enjoy, and if you need anything else don’t hesitate to call me.”

You carefully wrapped your cold hands around your mug while you watched Carl walk away. A moment of silence rose between you. Bucky watched you with an unreadable expression, making you fidget in your seat.

“I’m glad you came,” he finally said.

“Me too. I’m a little surprised you asked.”

He looked down at his mug and smiled; it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have something to ask you.” He paused. “The night we met, you said you agreed to see me because being in a... financial relationship felt like the only solution to your problems.”

 Your smile faltered but he didn’t seem to notice. Oh. The butterflies in your stomach fell so suddenly that it felt like carrying a ball of lead. They went back into hibernation.  

“If I had been a decent person and, I don’t know, bought you a drink, talked to you,” he paused, meeting your eyes. “Would you have been interested in this type of relationship? With me, I mean.”

You swallowed hard. “You want to be my sugar daddy.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement. You were slowly realizing that you had been wrong about his intentions. This wasn’t a date, it was a business afternoon tea.

He winced. “Do we really have to call it that? I was thinking mentorship. I can provide financial help, and in exchange you could be my friend.”

“I can be your friend for free,” you said, your throat tightening.

He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “This way we’ll both get something out of it.”

You looked down at your hands, still wrapped around the mug, and pursed your lips in thought. You felt a sharp tingling sensation in your nose, a sign that you were about to cry. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, fighting against the flood that was coming.

You pushed all the emotion down and forced a smile to your face. “Do you mind if I use the restroom? I just took the subway, I’d like to wash my hands.”

Bucky watched you, momentarily stunned by your request. “Of course, take your time,” he quickly recovered.

“Thanks,” you croaked, pushing your chair back.

You picked up your bag and walked to the restroom, your legs feeling like cotton wool. You didn’t need to use the restroom, you had walked to the café, but you needed a moment alone to collect yourself.

A woman came out of the restroom, holding the door open for you. You picked up the pace and thanked her before closing the door behind you. You looked pretty sickly under the artificial light of the restroom. Your eyes were glassy with tears and your red lips were taunting you.

“Got your hopes up, uh?” You watched your lips move. A little humourless chuckle escaped you and you shook your head at your own idiocy.

You aggressively wiped the lipstick off your mouth with the back of your hand and sighed deeply as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Now you felt like an idiot.

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He had been nothing but nice and kind, and perhaps you had mistaken his kindness for flirting. A naïve mistake. You had always been a little clueless when it came to men.

You ran your index fingers under your eyes to get rid of the makeup that had gathered there. It wasn’t the end of the world, you barely knew him anyway. It didn’t hurt any less, though.

Maybe it was time for you to do something out of character, to experience life no matter how crazy it seemed. You were dreading this conversation with Bucky, but you couldn’t hide in the restroom forever. With another sigh, you pushed yourself away from the sink and walked out of the restroom.

Part 4

[genericpseudonyms]

Mama leaves a rambling message on my phone. Something garbled because the connection isn’t good. She says I probably already know because Sarah, my stepmother, talked to Thomas, my half brother. It’s probably not a super immediate thing but the doctors apparently said he—because she still cannot call my father by his name—may recognize my face. Whatever, this is all speculation actually, she admits. She doesn't know what's actually going on. She's just relaying a message. Mama ends her message saying she was going to wait to tell me until she got back from Korea. In four days. She was going to wait ninety-six hours. Ninety. Six. Hours. Sarah calls me in the next morning. She asks me to send all the money my father has left. She only ever calls when she needs his money. I need all of it she says. For what, I ask. Preparations, she replies. What preparations, I ask. I’ll tell you when you get here, she says. It’s bad news, she says. I’m sorry, she says. Yeah, I think to myself. Me too. Me fucking too. I’m annoyed more than anything. Maybe a little guilty. Because I don’t want to fly to Korea. I don’t want to drive down to that tiny island where the sun is too hot and the wildlife screams at night and the roosters shatter the dawn with cock-a-doodle-doos. I’m always half afraid I won’t find my way back. That someone will kidnap me in that godless place and the person that comes back will just be a ghost who wears my face. I am in the shower, and the water is hot. My skin is splotchy and red and I realize that I am angry. The adults in my life refuse to speak plainly. They talk in code that must be deciphered and then acted upon. They don’t have the decency to tell me the truth because it makes them uncomfortable. They leave all the hard decisions to me, someone forty years their junior. They throw their emotional bombs and run away. They don’t stick around for the fallout. Why should they? I've always been the good girl who cleans up their messes. I am angry because I’ve been doing so, so, so very well. No, I’m still doing well. I take my meds, I go to work, I exercise, I write articles. I hang out with friends, I watch TV, I read my books, I write stories. I’m not a zombie anymore. I feel things as openly as I can and I write about them when I can’t. I don’t sprawl catatonic on floors. I’m fine. Better than fine. I’m alive. I will fly those long hours to that tiny island. I will hold Papa’s hand in mine and tell him that I love and hate him in equal measures. That I choose to forgive him, but that I will not forget his sins. That existing in a state of contradiction is a skill he taught me, and one I will learn to live with. I will kiss him on his forehead and whisper in his ear that I hope that his soul finds rest. I will close the door, leave, and that will be my last goodbye.  I will promise myself to do better than he did. I will never strike a child. I will never wrap my fingers around their tiny neck and squeeze until they choke on their tears. I will never fist my hands in someone’s shirt, and scream in their face that they’re worthless. I will never bash their face into a piano. I will never slap someone so hard they go flying across a room. I will never manipulate someone’s mental health for my benefit. I will never put my ego before being a good person. I will let myself cry. I will let myself be soft. Wherever possible, I will take my pain and find a way to help others out of theirs. And above all, I will not attach conditions to my love.

Promises, 05. 29. 2018

[willbutcher]

wip tag

List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on. This can be writing, art, vids, gifsets, whatever.

I was tagged by the extremely cool and talented @codyglasser thank you Rebecca! 

These are my hockey wips which actually have something to them and I’m putting this under a read more because I like to overshare so y’all are getting some excerpts as well.

I am tagging @jaketroubas, @bobrovskies and @capmcdavo but don’t feel any pressure to do this if you don’t want to <3

look at your reflection - jimmy/brady  okay this is definitely the weirdest thing i have going on atm, basically you remember this weirdly artsy photo shoot about nhl players and their scars with the creepy gifs. well i saw the gif with brady and for some reason, my brain ended up coming at the idea that brady somehow gets himself trapped in mirrors and slightly psychic jimmy has to find a way bring him back to the real world ft. reluctant supernatural assistant hayesy. less of a romance and more of a supernatural, mystery sort of story. 

i still need to work out the actual plot threads but for the most part, i know how the mechanics of the world are going to work.

the title is actually from the following doctor who quote from an episode that spoilers features a character ending up getting trapped in a mirror and so is part of the inspiration for this.

“He still visits my sister, once a year, every year. I wonder if one day he might forgive her, but there she is, can you see? He trapped her inside a mirror. Every mirror. If ever you look at your reflection and see something move behind you, just for a second, that’s her. That’s always her.”

here’s an excerpt 

The light flickers onto the glass and for a second, there’s a figure standing there, their silhouette blurry at the edges. Jimmy sees a flash of dark hair and broad shoulders before he blinks and it’s gone like it was never there to begin with.

Jimmy blinks again but whatever it was doesn’t reappear. He glances around but no one else seems to have seen anything, they’re all just carrying on with warm-ups.

Before he can think about it anymore, Kevin skates up to him and catches him with some snow spray. 

“Try not to space out on us, Jimmy,” says Kevin.

down to a lovely place - cody/kailer  to steal rebecca’s description, just soft boys being soft together once the season has ended. there is a tiny bit of plot to this but i won’t spoil it. 

Kailer’s sprawled diagonally across the bed, toes tucked under Cody’s thigh. He’s in Cody’s Hawks hoodie that he’s been permanently attached to since he got here, the sleeves coming down well past his hands and the last time Cody looked over, he had the collar pulled up over his mouth which in reality is a bit gross and Cody should tell him to stop it but the whole sight of Kailer looking comfy and content in his room, in his clothes, turns his insides to mush every time he even thinks about it.

catch me at the border - mikey/nate a soulmate au for this prompt, “If you send off a paper airplane, it shall reach (or move in the direction of) your soulmate.”

i just thought it was pretty cute and i always love soulmates au of any kind so yeah. apart from that, it’s pretty much your standard soulmate au in terms of plot. admittedly this one is more of an exercise about what i can do with this idea then the actual pairing but don’t worry, it still features them being highkey gross and in love.

you can get two excepts for this one 

His soulmate’s drawings are okay. Once, they send him a plane made out of a sheet of lined paper, every inch covered in messy doodles front and back. They look they belong in notebooks, in the middle of margins and the bottom of corners but Mikey will take whatever his soulmate wants to give to him.

The plane ends up covered in hearts, all different sizes and angles because that’s the best that Mikey can come up with and while it does feel sappy, more importantly, it feels right too. Over halfway through, the nice red pen from the set he bought last year runs out and he has to resort to using the spare one buried at the back of his drawer that’s splotchy at the tip and uneven in its strokes.

Mikey’s lucky it’s the thought that counts.

let me kiss you on your neck and make your heart stop - mikey/nate supposed to be my attempt at pwp but is currently lacking both plot and porn whelp. set the night of the steelheads winning the eastern conference title in the ohl and cameos from like all of the steelheads because i love them  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Do you wanna?” Mikey asks. Nate’s too drunk to fill in the blanks and ends up drawing all outside the lines instead. Maybe he can pass it off as modern art.

“Do I wanna,” Nate repeats, head slumped on Mikey’s broad shoulders, Nate doesn’t know how he got them but he isn’t complaining, and their hands laced together on their thighs, knees pressed together. Nate doesn’t know when the hand thing started happening either but again, he’s not complaining about it, especially when Mikey is tracing shapes across his skin with his thumb. 

[asflowersfade]

Scribble-Doodle: Vampire Rot

Okay, my Angst Fic O’Doom. A parabatai story set before the show. Beware, there’ll be mistakes in it because I just can’t catch all the darn miscreants!

Alec is sick. Jace is determined not to let his parabatai die, no matter what!

He’s not allowed to join the raid.

“You said you needed everyone,” Jace protests indignantly.

Maryse, dressed in full battle gear, turns to him; her expression is impatient. “Yes, I need everyone - who can actually follow orders, Jace!” she adds. “You can’t. In your arrogance, you always think you know better. But we’re about to raid a den full of rogue vampires. I need to know that my people will go where I send them and do what I tell them. Innocents might die otherwise!”

“So, you don’t trust me, is that it?” And now he sounds hurt.

“In this? No, I don’t,” she replies with brutal honesty.

Alec’s ordered to go, though - they don’t have enough archers to provide cover and even if they had, Alec’s one of their best, he would be asked to join in any case.

Jace doesn’t like it. If he’s honest with himself, the fact that Alec’s allowed to go and he isn’t plays a big part in his aggravation. But more importantly - no, most importantly - since their parabatai ceremony, they haven’t gone into battle separately. Small skirmishes here and there, sure, but a real battle - and this will be a real battle - never. The fact that he won’t be there to watch Alec’s back is making Jace anxious.

“Be careful!!” he implores while watching Alec gear up.

Alec looks at him and smiles a little. Jace feels that it’s for his benefit, that Alec hates that they won’t be fighting side by side as much as he does - Jace’s still getting used to the fact that he has another person’s emotions tucked away in the corner of his mind, it’s really strange.

“Always,” Alec promises, and Jace’s determined to hold him to that.

Jace spends his unexpected downtime in the training hall, pummeling the bag into submission. Isabelle tried to talk to him - she’s still considered too much of a child to be allowed to go out on a mission like this one, which pisses her off big time - but he just growled at her, so she gave up after a while and left. And since then, he’s been silently punching his fists bruised.

Because he’s angry that he didn’t get to stake a vamp tonight. Not because he worries about Alec. He’s not worried. He’s not.

He’s sweaty and a little out of breath when there’s a sudden commotion in the hallway, people rushing past with their voices raised - and Jace’s anxiety spikes.

Stepping out of the training hall, he grabs the first person running past, one of the computer whizzes who never go out into the field - Natalie? - and asks her, “What’s going?”

She looks at him, wide-eyed. “They’re back. There were casualties… deaths,” she whispers and she sounds scared.

With his heart hammering, Jace barges into the infirmary. If Alec’s hurt - he’s not dead, Jace would know, Alec’s not dead! - that’s where he’ll be. Maryse is there, too; her battle gear is torn, slashed and bloody, her face spattered with blood and her left arm is in a sling. She’s talking to one of the Silent Brothers - Brother Zachariah? Brother Micah? Ah, they all look the same to Jace! - and she’s looking as pale as a ghost. Whatever happened, it must’ve been bad.

“Maryse!!” Jace calls out as he pushes through the milling people.

She thanks the Silent Brother and turns to Jace. “Jace,” she greets him and though she tries to sound composed, Jace can see that she’s... shaken.

“Where’s Alec? What happened?” Jace blurts out, looking around anxiously. Where is he?

“Our intel was… faulty,” Maryse replies quietly. “There were many more vampires than we expected.”

That draws his attention and he looks her straight in the eyes. “How many more?”

She swallows and holds her head high when she replies, “Almost a hundred.”

Jace can feel his eyes widening. They planned for fifty at the most!

“I don’t know how we could’ve missed a clan as big as this one,” Maryse mutters, shaking her head, “how could Camille Belcourt miss a clan this big moving into her territory! If she knew, if she was in on it....” Her cheeks turn splotchy with anger.

“Where’s Alec?” Jace asks softly. His ears are buzzing and his heart’s trying to climb out of his chest. Where is Alec? Where is he?!

Maryse sighs and rubs his forehead with her good hand. “When the vamps took to the sewers, we were separated into two groups,” she whispers. “They trapped half of our people in the tunnels underground. It was a massacre. Our soldiers were outnumbered four to one and we lost ten people. The threat was neutralized but… Only four of the group got out of the tunnels alive. Alec was among them.”

Jace’s overcome with relief so profound that his knees buckle. He knew that Alec was alive, their bond told him, but it’s one thing to know and then to know. But, considering that this is good news, why does Maryse look so…?

“Maryse?” Jace asks carefully. “What happened to Alec?”

Jace can’t imagine why Maryse’s looking the way she is. Even if Alec was bitten - Raziel forbid! - they would just have to put him under quarantine and allow him to ride out the vampire venom. Nasty but not life-threatening.

Maryse looks him straight in the eye and chooses her words very deliberately. “They fought over sixty vampires, Jace - in a tight, enclosed space.”

Jace’s heart skips a beat. And then another. He can feel himself turn pale. “Vampire rot?” he asks in a small voice.

She nods heavily. “There were so many vamps, so many of them, their ashes got into our people’s - Alec’s! - lungs. Rot set in almost immediately. It’s…” Her voice actually breaks. “It’s eating them up from the inside.”

Jace doesn’t even notice that he’s shaking at first. He takes a deep breath and then another to force himself to calm down. It’ll be fine. Everything will be fine. They just have to... They have to... “What can we do about it?” he asks fiercely.

Because there has to be something. Vampire rot’s an ugly, terrifying disease but it’s plagued Shadowhunters ever since they first faced off with vampires. Someone must’ve found a cure by now. Right? Right?

“I called in the Silent Brothers and I contacted the…” Maryse falters, then she takes a deep breath and continues, “the High Warlock of Brooklyn who promised to help us. He said he heard about a remedy but it’s not easy to come by.”

“Does he want more money? Is that it?” Jace snaps harshly. Because if so, then Jace will… Jace… Jace will sell the Wayland mansion if he has to, he’ll swear a blood oath, anything, just… just as long as Alec survives.

Maryse shakes her head and suddenly, she looks exhausted. “No, no, it’s not a matter of money. I mean, I promised him a worthy reward, true, but that’s not it. Some of the ingredients are simply very rare. He promised he would try but he needs time. And that’s something we don’t have.” She closes her eyes. “One of the sick already died on the way back to the Institute. He was fighting in thick of it.”

Jace feels as if the ground’s trying to swallow him. “And Alec?”

“He was providing cover, so he stayed on the outskirts, even trapped underground. A bow’s not exactly a close combat weapon.”

“So, he didn’t catch the full blast, right? He’s sick but it’s… it’s not that bad, right? There’s still time for him to get the cure… right?” Jace demands. 

Maryse reaches out to lay her good hand on his shoulder. “Jace,” she says almost gently and Jace’s not used to Maryse being gentle, it’s wrong. “He might not be as bad off, but he’s still very sick.”

Jace shakes her hand off. “I need to see him. Where is he?”

Maryse sighs. “The Silent Brothers put the sick under quarantine, the effects of the disease are still largely unknown. They won’t let you to him.”

Jace’s eyes narrow. The hell they won’t. “They have to. I have to be with him, he’s my parabatai.” And when Maryse opens her mouth again, most likely to protest, Jace states, “I have the right to be with him. The Law says so!”

“You don’t have to quote the Law to me!” Maryse snaps back, but then she sighs again, rubbing her forehead once more as if her head were hurting. “I can ask.”

In the end, they let him in - Jace suspects that Brother Zachariah knows that if they did not, Jace would simply sneak in, he’s not about to let anyone stand between him and his parabatai - but first they make him take a shower and put on some clean clothes and even a surgical mask. Jace follows the instructions without complaints, he would do anything to be allowed to see Alec, he would go in naked if need be.

To get to Alec, Jace has to pass the other two sick Shadowhunters, Paul and Leila - he doesn’t know them all that well - and though their beds are hidden behind thin white curtains, he can hear their harsh, straining cough, constant and agonizing, and it makes his fear for Alec turn into dread.

And then there Alec is, at the end of the long, narrow room that was turned into a makeshift infirmary, and Jace has to take a deep breath and steel himself before he pushes through the curtain and steps into the small cubicle. Still, at the sight of his parabatai, his heart clenches painfully in his chest.

Alec’s propped up in the bed, probably to make breathing easier for him, he’s turned away slightly and his naked back’s covered with temporary healing runes. Jace recognizes a few - this one kills pain and that one stops bleeding - the rest of them, though? He doesn’t know.

Slowly, Jace walks around the bed and the more he sees, the more his heart hurts, because Alec has his knees pulled up slightly and both hands, loosely closed into fists, pressed against his chest, as if it still hurts despite all the runes placed on his back. And his face…

Jace stops, blinking hard to push back tears. Alec’s face is ashen and his closed eyes are almost purple, his cheeks sunken - how can he look like that? Jace saw him only a few hours ago and he was alright, healthy! But the worst thing are the fluids staining his lips, bright red blood and black ichor - the vampire rot destroying his lungs.

Looking around, Jace spots a box of tissues on the nightstand. He pulls one out and very gently, he wipes off Alec’s mouth. The heat radiating off Alec’s skin makes him almost jerk back. And then there’s Alec’s rattling, wheezing breath. Jace guesses he should be grateful that Alec’s not trying to cough out his damaged lungs like Paul and Leila, but it’s painful to hear anyway.

“Hhhhhey,” Alec rasps, and this time, Jace does jerk away because he didn’t even notice that Alec was awake.

“Shh, don’t talk,” Jace chides as he sinks down on the chair by the bed and reaches out to squeeze Alec’s forearm. “I had to do a lot of chest thumping to be let in, we don’t them to throw me out again now, do we?” He tries to smile but he fails.

Alec blinks slowly. His eyes are bloodshot and fever bright. It takes a while for him to really register that Jace’s there. Then he frowns. “Why… here? Danger… ous,” he wheezes.

Jace rubs Alec’s skin with his thumb. “I’m here because you’re my parabatai. Where else would I be?” he replies, mock offended. “And you’re the one in danger here. I wasn’t the one snorting vampire ashes like they were some mundane drugs!”

Alec smiles wanly. “Sorry.”

Leaning closer, Jace mutters through his mask, “You promised to be careful!”

Alec stares at him for a long moment, the pale smile fading from his lips. “Sorry…” he whispers again in the end.

And Jace’s about to tell Alec where he can stick his sorry, that once Alec’s out of here, Jace’ll kick his ass so hard for scaring him like that, that Alec won’t be able to move for a week - but that’s when Alec’s seized with a coughing fit so harsh that Jace jumps to his feet, and sitting down on the edge of the mattress, he pulls Alec up into a sitting position and lets Alec lean against him while he holds his parabatai up and rubs his back soothingly.

And Alec’s clinging to him, hands fisted in Jace’s t-shirt, and he’s coughing and coughing, and it’s a brutal, wet sound, and Jace can feel the rattle in Alec’s chest through Alec’s ribs, and for a moment it sounds as if Alec will suffocate. And Jace’s scared, so scared.

One of the Silent Brothers comes in and if he’s surprised to find the two boys in this position, he hides it well. Without hesitation, he steps up to the bed and using the fact that Jace’s holding Alec up, he draws another rune on Alec’s shoulder blade.

Alec shudders and chokes, seizing one last time - and then he finally stops coughing. He’s still clinging to Jace hard but he’s breathing again, wheezing loudly but breathing, and it’s the best sound Jace has ever heard in his life.

The Silent Brother nods and whispers in Jace’s head, “I’ll let them bring you clean clothes.”

Jace doesn’t understand till the man leaves and he lays Alec back against the pillows gently - and he sees that his shoulder is spattered with black ichor mixed with blood.

Jace feels sick just looking at the stains, knowing that this, this is inside Alec, suffocating him. If he could, he would switch places with him without hesitation.

“Sor… ry,” Alec forces out, staring at Jace’s ruined t-shirt.

Jace shrugs, going for a nonchalant gesture and probably failing miserably. Because the same fluids are on Alec’s lips, on his chin, making Alec’s sickness all the more real. Jace pulls his t-shirt off and simply drops it in the bin, then he reaches for another tissue and with a gentleness that surprises even him, he cleans Alec’s face.

“It’s okay,” Jace whispers, focusing on his task and not looking Alec in the eyes. Because if he did, he would probably cry.

And that’s when it hits him that what he feels, the sadness, despair, fear and… grief, those are not just his emotions but Alec’s too. He can feel Alec grieving! Alec thinks - knows with absolute certainty! - that he’s going to die. And he’s already grieving for those he’s going to leave behind - for Jace! That will not do!

Jace drops the used tissue in the bin, then he leans closer and cups Alec’s face in his hands. And in contrast with his tender touch, he growls, “You’re not going to die, you hear me? You’re not going to leave me here alone! Got it? Maryse contacted the High Warlock of Brooklyn - Boon? Booze? whatever his name! - and the guy thinks he knows how to cure the vampire rot. You just have to hold on till he can cook up the potion, you understand? You just need to hold on!”

And when Alec just keeps looking at him, not reacting in any way, Jace lightly taps him on the forehead. “You understand? You’re my parabatai. You have to do what I tell you. The Law says so.”

Another wan smile. “It does… not,” Alec whispers. Then he takes a slow, measured breath and nods slightly. “But I’ll… do my… best, promise.”

Jace nods, his breath a little heavy behind his surgical mask, and tries to be satisfied with that. He wants to demand a promise that Alec won’t die on him, that’s what he wants, he wants Alec to swear it to him, right there and then - but he knows that he can’t, a thing like that cannot be promised. And so he picks up another tissue and wipes Alec’s lips off carefully, because even those few words stained his mouth again.

After that, for a while, everything becomes a blur. Jace keeps cleaning away the blood, and wiping Alec down with a washcloth to try and keep his fever down, and he helps Alec do other things - like help him relieve himself - things that make Alec embarrassed but Jace simply doesn’t care about that right now, it’s so unimportant when he can feel Alec growing weaker and weaker under his hands.

Then, he hears a voice in his head, Brother Zachariah’s voice. “Jace Wayland, Maryse Lightwood wishes to speak to you.” And once Jace makes sure that Alec will be fine without him for a moment - his parabatai fell into a light doze a moment before - he gets up quietly and heads down the makeshift infirmary to the door.

“Maryse?” he asks with a hope in his voice as he pulls down his mask. “Did the warlock--”

“He’s still working on the cure,” she interrupts him, eyes on the new stains on his t-shirt. “He left for South America to get some root or something.”

Jace huffs impatiently. “Doesn’t he understand how important this is?” He gets that he’s probably not being fair, but Alec being sick is not fair, none of this is fair!

“I made it very clear to him,” Maryse assures him. “And he told me that he’s risking a lot by going back to Peru just to help a ‘bunch of ungrateful Shadowhunters.’”

Jace grits his teeth. “Can’t we get someone else’s help?”

Maryse sighs and rubs her forehead; she’s been doing that a lot lately. Jace also notices that her left arm isn’t in a sling anymore. “Unfortunately, Magnus Bane is the best. But he promised that, if he can get this last ingredient, the potion would be ready this evening. Twelve hours at the most.”

Jace’s shoulders slump and his head drops. Twelve hours. Sure, it’s better than having no hope at all, but twelve hours! He doesn’t know if Alec can last so long.

Maryse must read something in his expression because she asks quietly, “How is he?”

Jace looks up at her. Should he tell her a reassuring lie or the ugly truth? Then he realizes that this is Maryse Lightwood, she wouldn’t want to be lied to. “Not good,” he replies. “He’s holding on but…” He shakes his head.

Maryse stares at him a moment longer, then she nods grimly. “The Silent Brothers won’t let me in. Neither me nor Izzy - she’s all but hysterical that they won’t let her see her brother. Would you tell him…” She falls silent. Obviously she can’t find the right words. She’s never been the emotional type.

So Jace just nods. He will. He will tell Alec what Maryse cannot.

Suddenly, there’s a commotion behind Jace and he turns around. In the first cubicle, the Silent Brothers - there are three of them now! - are moving around quickly, their shadows dancing on the white curtain�� and then they stop. And Jace realizes that the makeshift infirmary is much quieter now. One of the harsh coughs that he stopped paying attention to ceased.

Paul’s dead. The realization hits Jace like a hammer. It’s just Leila... and Alec now.

Slowly, he turns back to Maryse. She’s pale and wide-eyed. Jace doesn’t think he has ever seen her this shaken before. “I’ll let you know the moment we have the cure,” she promises and then she leaves. No, she runs away.

Pulling his surgical mask back up, Jace returns to Alec’s side. His parabatai is awake, watching him with half-lidded, exhausted eyes. “Wha…?” Alec croaks out.

Jace decides not to tell Alec about Paul, for that there will be time later. Instead he puts on a bright grin as he sits back down again and squeezes Alec’s hand. “That was Maryse. She told me that in twelve hours top, we’ll have the cure. All you need to do is hold on for another twelve hours, that’s all. You can do that, easy!” he states with fake enthusiasm.

Alec stares at him for a while, his expression unreadable, then he asks softly, “How’s… everyone?”

“The Silent Brothers are refusing to let Maryse and Izzy in - Iz threw a fit!” Jace says, still grinning so hard his cheeks are starting to hurt. “Maryse wanted me to tell you that she loved you.”

Alec keeps staring at Jace, then he hums, and closes his eyes slowly. “You… shouldn’t be… here either,” he croaks out, his hand twitching in Jace’s. “We don’t know… how the sickness--”

“I’m not leaving!” Jace interrupts him sharply. “And you stop talking and save your strength for something more important - like breathing!” Then he leans close and rests one hand on the top of Alec’s head. “Twelve hours, Alec, that’s all. You just need to hold on for twelve more hours. For me!” he pleads, finally dropping his false cheer.

Alec hums again, suppressing a cough. His lips are stained with black again.

Two hours later, Leila dies. It’s the total absence of sound in the room that tells them that she’s gone. No more harsh coughing, no more painful choking... just silence.

Jace’s head shoots up and he turns to the white curtain separating Alec’s tiny cubicle from Leila’s. He can see the silhouettes of the Silent Brothers moving across it slowly - there’s no more haste. Jace’s heart clenches.

He looks at Alec and finds his parabatai watching him silently. And he realizes that Alec knows and he grips his hand even tighter - he hasn’t let go of him in what seems like hours. Truth to be told, Jace’s afraid that if he did let go, Alec would leave him. If Jace has to anchor him here with his own damn grip, then he’ll do it!

When Alec’s seized with the next coughing fit and Jace lets his parabatai rest against his chest, Alec’s so weak that he can’t even hold onto him anymore. And when Brother Zachariah comes in and draws more healing runes on Alec’s back - they barely flicker.

Jace looks at the Silent Brother pleadingly, but Brother Zachariah just shakes his head and whispers in Jace’s mind, “He doesn’t have any strength left to make the runes work. I’m sorry.”

Jace suspects that Brother Zachariah thinks it would be better if the end came quickly for Alec. He feels like crying. This can’t be happening.

The Silent Brother leaves them alone and when Alec finally stops coughing - his breath still wheezes and rattles in his throat, though - Jace lays him back down against the pillows gently and wipes his mouth clean with a tissue - Alec’s lips are almost blue now, his face gray, his eyes red-rimmed and barely open… And Jace comes to a decision.

He tears off his surgical mask and drops it in the bin together with the used tissue. He’s angry at the whole situation, at the unfairness of it all, he’s desperate and frustrated and scared for Alec… and he can’t think past the possibility of Alec dying on him, his mind simply hits a blank wall when he tries to think past that, he can’t imagine his life without Alec in it.

Alec needs eight more hours? Jace will make sure he gets them!

Taking out his stele, Jace pushes Alec’s thin blanket down to uncover his parabatai rune - and he runs his stele over it to activate it. It barely reacts, but that’s okay, all he needs is to establish a connection. He then pulls up his t-shirt and activates his own parabatai rune which glows bright and strong.

Their bond bursts into life as Alec starts siphoning off Jace’s strength unconsciously, drawing on what he needs to sustain himself from Jace. Immediately, his color turns better and his breathing becomes a little easier - while Jace’s overcome with such a weakness as he has never felt before, his vision swims and his fingertips tingle. He leans heavily against the bed and tries to catch his breath.

“Jace…?” Alec whispers and when Jace looks up, he catches Alec staring at him with eyes wide with shock and fear. “No…”

“Yes!” Jace grits out forcefully. “Together or not at all!”

Because if Alec dies now, with their bond wide open, with them linked together and sharing strength - he will drag Jace down with him. And Jace doesn’t care! Because there’s no life without Alec. Either they both survive or… not. But he won’t be left behind.

In the end, it takes Magnus Bane six hours to provide them with the cure, but by that time, they’re both too far gone to be aware of what’s happening around them. They’re holding onto each other tightly, Alec curled up on his side, facing Jace, Jace sitting in his chair, head pillowed on his arms, and their hands are linked, fingers entwined, sharing Alec’s pain and weakness and spreading Jace’s strength between them, unaware.

The next thing Jace knows, he’s lying in a bed in the infirmary, in the regular infirmary, the quarantine having been called off at some point that he doesn’t remember. He’s as weak as a newborn kitten and he’s watching Alec in the bed next to his. Alec’s asleep - it’s a real sleep, deep and healing - and even though he’s still pale, his lips are no longer blue or stained with blood and ichor. The potion worked.

Vaguely, he remembers he got some serious tongue-lashing from Maryse for what he did, that he used their parabatai bond to sustain Alec while completely disregarding all the risks to himself - in Jace’s mind, a battle is a battle, never mind if the enemy is a demon or a sickness, and he would do it again! Maryse must’ve gotten the message because finally, she just huffed and left. But Jace could see tears in her eyes - she was happy, she was simply being… Maryse.

Jace can’t stop staring at Alec. He feels exhaustion pulling at him, but he refuses give in and go to sleep because what if… But no, they told him that Alec would be alright now. That warlock apparently knows what he’s doing, after all. Alec will be okay.

Alec will be okay.

His parabatai will be okay.

Jace’s eyes close. He sleeps.