#this thing is getting so long and i haven't even gotten to any major twists what am i doing

[howtofightwrite]

this scenario happened on Twenty-Four and they didnt really account for the long term damage -evelynmlewis

"No long term consequences" could have been the tagline for 24. I mean, we are talking about the show where terrorists detonated a nuclear weapon in Los Angeles, and a few hours later people were going about their daily lives like nothing had happened. But, I think I remember what you're talking about, and it was a small symptom of a much larger problem.

Two important caveats: I haven't watched season 3 in roughly 20 years, so I might be slightly misremembering when things happen. Second, IMDB's trivia page doesn't have any mentions of what I'm about to say, so it's entirely possible this was a fiction cooked up by someone on TV Tropes.

The short version was that Chase (James Badge Dale) was captured and was being tortured by a Mexican cartel. (Because no synopsis of 24 is complete without gratuitous torture sequences.) And, at one point, one of the cartel members shoots him through the hand. The problem is that Chase was originally planned to be killed off right at the beginning of the next episode.

However, going into season 3, the show runners had, supposedly, gotten into a bad habit of watching fansites, and started tweaking things on the fly, when fans accurately predicted the outcomes of upcoming plot twists. This included keeping Chase alive, when the original plan was to kill him off, and also killing off Chappelle (Paul Schulze), later in the season.

So, I mentioned that the plans for Chase's execution being changed are a bit dubious, that's not true with Chappelle, and there's a couple major things to pick up on here. First is that we have confirmation from Paul Schulze that the original plan was to fake his character's death. (This came out of an interview Schulze did, though I'm not sure with whom.) The second is a production cue from the way the show was produced. By season 3, the show was being shot in two episode blocks, (so, for example, Day 3: 1:00 p.m. – Day 3: 2:00 p.m., and Day 3: 2:00 p.m. – Day 3: 3:00 p.m. were shot at the same time. Also, yeah, the official episode titles are a bit unwieldy.) In the case of Chappelle's death, it came at right before 7am (which would have been part of the shooting block for 5am to 7am.) However, Chase's death would have been right after 9pm. (Which would have been part of the 9pm to 11pm block.) This would mean that the production would have needed to bring James Badge Dale back in for what would have amounted to a glorified cameo, if they were originally planning to kill off his character. Once you're aware of the way that episodes were shot, the pacing of the series gets a lot more predictable. Significant characters (even short term ones) tend to get introduced in the front half of a block, and killed off in the back half. Not necessarily the same block, but the structure tends to hold up. Especially when the show plays with the idea of someone dying during the episode cliffhanger.)

So, where am I going with this? Don't mess with your story to keep your audience off-balance. Your first concern is keeping your story coherent, if members of your audience manage to accurately predict what you're doing, good. They're invested enough in the story that you're telling to care about what you're going to do next. These are the last people you want to mess with. And if their prediction is correct, when it does play out, that's a reward for them.

Don't follow the example of 24(especially in season 3), where the overarching plot degenerates into an incoherent mess, because it keeps getting revised, on the fly, to keep things surprising. A well written thriller shouldn't be predictable, but it should have internal consistency so when the unexpected happens, it makes sense. A second viewing (or reading) of a thriller, should provide more satisfaction, as you can now see all the pieces getting dropped into place, long before they pay off. But, again, when you're writing in a serial format, if you start flipping things around to keep ahead of what your audience is predicting, that will ruin the cohesion of your story. (And, it's why I haven't watched Season 3 since shortly after it released on DVD. When I did go back and rewatch the first two years of the show.) While it's a bit uneven, it is something the first season of 24handled remarkably well, especially in comparison to what came later.

There's a couple advantages to writing in a serialized format. If you're unfamiliar with the term, serialized fiction refers when a piece of fiction is released in multiple parts over time. This is somewhat distinct from episodic series and metaplots. Episodic series tell multiple self contained stories, while metaplots refer to an overarching storyline that hooks into episodic stories granting them a larger context. Serials are smaller parts of a larger whole. The individual pieces (or, in the case of television, the episodes) are segmented portions of a larger story. Now, I said there are advantages to serialized writing, but almost all of those come with some significant perils, that if you're wanting to

The first advantage is you don't have to have the work completed before you start putting it out there. If you have a completed chapter, you can simply post it out there for the world to see. The peril is that you can't (really) go back and change it. You're committed to the previously released material. Even if you go back and revise the earlier work, you'll have a significant portion of your audience who don't want to go back and reread chapter 3, because you cleaned up the dialog, and also closed a plot hole that would emerge years later.

The second advantage is that serials can easily deliver much larger stories than you could offer in another format. For example, each season of 24 tells a single twenty-four hour story (actually, about 18 hours, once you account for commercial breaks.) Just putting that scope in front of someone is kind of wild. The peril is that serialized stories can easily spiral out of control. For example, nearly every webcomic ever, with an ongoing plot. This can result in some insane bloat. So you can either accept the content in medias res, or you can be looking at an unpleasant amount of homework. Whatever praise 24 deserves, the show asks you for an entire day of your life to watch a single story. When put in those terms, frankly, it's not that good.

The third advantage is that you can adjust your later work to better fit what your audience responds well to. If your fans like something you're doing, you can expand that part of your story. This time, there's multiple perils. First, you can easily lose track of how your original plan fit together. This is less of an issue if you're running with a fairly loose outline, but the better scripted your original plan, the more this can inadvertently screw you over. And, as I mentioned above, with the first peril, you can easily trap yourself. For an example I'm not completely conversant in, this might be what's delayed the final Game of Thrones book, as Martin may have accidentally killed off a character he needed, and now he's spent years working out a Plan B. The second peril is a little simpler, sometimes fans are reacting to what you didn't say, rather than what you did. Peripheral characters or concepts can prove to be fan favorites because the hints you provided along the way were more enticing than the full background you had in mind. This is a very subjective risk, because ultimately, it is more about accurately gauging what your audience reacted to rather than what they said they reacted to. That's a tricky one to split.

The fourth advantage to serialized writing is, almost, more a peril disguised as an advantage: You don't have to know how this will end, when you start. You can go on the same journey as your reader. The real advantage is that it can make the story more approachable. If you look at the idea of writing an entire novel, and the scope of that scares you, then smaller serialized novellas are a lot less threatening. However, this also means you don't have a plan to finish this. Much your characters, you're going to need to figure it out on your feet. If that sounds like a fun challenge, then that's absolutely something to drop into the “Pros” column. The downside is, I've seen professionals screw this up, and worse, get it past their editor. (In this case, I'm thinking specifically of Transmetropolitan. If you know, you know; if you don't, it's a massive spoiler for the end of the series.)

I will say, on this last peril, having good documentation, and a good project bible can save your ass. Don't trust your memory to keep all the (figurative) plates spinning. Take notes on what you're doing in another document, so that in the future you'll have easy reference to try to avoid accidentally creating temporal paradoxes as you try to sketch out your conclusion.

Also, yeah, if you're going to shoot someone in the hand, even if it's with a .22, don't change your mind about killing them 20 minutes later. James Badge Dale was cool, but, dude had nothing to do but chew scenery for fifteen hours.

-Starke

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[margowritesthings]

THE MEANING OF THE SCAR

a RDR2 x Black Badge crossover

pairing: N/A for this chapter, will eventually be Arthur Morgan x reader word count: 2650 words warnings: spoilers for RDR2 ending, violence, Micah Bell, explicit language, major character death and subsequent resurrection, brief mentions of domestic violence YOU DONT NEED TO HAVE READ THE BLACK BADGE TO UNDERSTAND THIS SERIES, EVERYTHING IS EXPLAINED DURING THE STORY authors note: What's that, you say? You want a RDR x Black Badge crossover?? No??? WELL IM DOIN IT ANYWAY

The series that no one asked for tbh. If you haven't heard of the Black Badge, it's a wonderful series of books by Rhett C Bruno and Jamie Castle, where the audiobooks are narrated by Roger Clarke. This series puts Arthur in the shoes of the protagonist, who is doomed to hunt the supernatural to pay off his karmic debts. The prologue explains it a little better, so sit back and enjoy! There will be romance, there will be monsters, what more could you ask for?

BLACK BADGE ORIGNAL SERIES

PROLOGUE

I have seen so many incredible things. 

Living on the land for as long as I have, you tend to. I’ve camped under the most breathtaking sunrises, that big orange orb scattering unimaginable colours over our poor souls as it creeps over the horizon. I've seen nature at its finest: baby deer learning to walk, wolves running together in tight packs not unlike us outlaws, even saw a little chick hatching once. Beautiful women from all around batting their long lashes at me, not even all of them because I was a prospective customer. I’ve been a lucky man, to have experienced so many sights.

Never did I think that the last thing I saw living on this Earth would be Micah Bell’s goddamn ugly mug.

The barrel of his gun was shaking in his tight grip, and I used the absolute last of my strength to keep my head up and look right down it. 

“You’re not better than me, Morgan.”

Never claimed to be, but if I had more time, I might have argued it, the rat. But that was the thing… I didn’t have more time. I could tell, the simple act of breathing was becoming just too much. I might have gotten a few more days, if Micah hadn’t just knocked the seven bells of shit out of me and the last few days had been a little calmer, but such is life. Such is death, I should say. 

After a wheezed cough was pushed out of me, I still managed to get one last jab in, as laboured and choked out as it was, 

“Whatever you say, you fool.”

Everything hurt, and I could hear the clock ticking my final seconds out as Micah’s finger trembled on the trigger. He was mad, I could see the fury spreading across his face as he registered what I was choosing to do with my final words. 

Maybe it was supposed to be the time for prayers, the time to have my life flash before my eyes while I count my regrets and mourn the things that will never happen, but there’d been enough of that ever since that doc told me my days were numbered. I hadn’t lived a good life, I wasn’t a good man, but I got some peace knowing my final hours were spent getting Marston and his family out safe, making sure Milton didn’t, and insulting the gang’s little pet rodent. If I had any regrets in that moment, they would only be that I didn’t manage any more permanent damage to Micah’s ugly ass mug before he got me. Actually, I might’ve wanted to die at dawn, to see one last sunrise, but mostly the Micah thing. 

“Damn you…” he spat, the glow of the moon casting the most horrendous shadows from his twisted expression. 

“Damn us both!” 

And that was it. 

A shot,

and it was all over. 

No sunrise, no grand redemption in the last few minutes of my damned life…

Just me, the moon, and goddamned Micah Bell. 

═══════☆═══════

I never expected I’d get into Heaven, but I never thought it’d be so goddamn dark down here in Hell.

I stirred as if waking up from a fitful sleep filled with nightmares involving Micah shooting me in the face, and even though my eyelids flew open, there was no light to speak of. There was a crushing weight on my chest, and a burning behind my right eye. What felt like dirt fell into my face with each little movement, and suddenly it all fit together, forming a terrifying reality of my predicament. 

It wasn’t a dream. Micah fuckin’ Bell had shot me. Tuberculosis ran ragged through my veins and filled my lungs, I’d been captured, hung in an O’Driscoll camp and tortured for information, hell, I’d been shipped off to goddamn Guarma with nothing but the shirt of my back… and in the end the sorry sight to end my story was a rat with a revolver. 

The dirt fell in my eyes relentlessly, so much so I had to close them again. It wasn’t like they were being much use anyway, what with me being buried alive and all. Moving my limbs was hard, but not impossible, I found, giving me hope that I wasn’t too far down in the ground. I never thought I’d hope for a shallow grave, but then again I couldn’t have predicted waking up in one either. None of it made much sense, but I reckoned it’d probably be best if I got back out into open air before figuring out why I couldn’t feel my toes, why breathing felt so strange and unnecessary, or how I’d survived a gunshot to the head. 

I started with small movements, flexing my numbed fingers in and out until there was enough room to ball them into fists. I would have shouted for help, if I could, but I knew all I’ll get from it is a mouthful of dirt. I’d have to do this alone, it would seem. 

The movement spread from fists to arms, the dirt starting to mould around me until it didn’t feel so crushing anymore, and I was soon clawing upwards. I dared to squint one eye open, finding small holes of light poked through the blanket of nothingness like stars. I felt triumphant when I reached upwards into open air, but it was short lived when I failed to feel the wind or the breeze or the sun or anything to let me know this wasn’t all some death dream. 

I pressed on, scraping at the skies until big patches of the Earth fell apart around my body and I could pull myself out of my grave. The sun beat so brightly that I couldn’t help but continue to squint, trying to make out my surroundings. It was dawn, ironically. I always assumed Hell’s skies would hold a lot more fire in them, but the blue hues and yellow rays were anything but hellish. They were beautiful, a sight I was sure I’d never see again. 

After my eyes adjusted, I made out the tombstone standing above my grave, a handcrafted wooden cross with my name scratched into the centre. Folk aren’t usually lucky enough (or unlucky enough, I hadn’t yet decided) to see their own graves, and yet here I was. Why? Was this truly Hell, looking over the sunrise while I was damned to sit by my own grave and wait for no-one to mourn me? 

‘Blessed Are Those Who Mourn, For They Will Be Comforted’

It was my epitaph, carved into the circle surrounding my name. I hoped it was true. I didn’t know how long I’d been buried, but I didn’t want anyone sitting around crying over me. I hoped I’d done enough, in those last few hours, and that the ones I loved, whoever was left of them, anyway, made it out okay. 

I pushed myself up out of the grave, dusting off the mud that clung to me and standing straight despite the complaints of my aching back. I looked over the hill, over what looked an awful lot like Ambarino. 

“Beautiful, ain’t it? I tell you, that friend of yours picked a good spot. Shame you’ll get no rest here.” 

I froze, my spine straightening on instinct as the voice behind me confirmed that I was in fact in Hell. Even after looking Death in the face and calling him a fool, it still took me a moment to turn and face my father. 

I expected anger to course through my veins, for my fists to ball and fury to burn over my skin the first time I saw him after all these years, but it didn’t. I looked my Daddy straight in his cold, dead eyes, and nodded to him. He did the same.

“Pa?” 

“Fraid so.” 

I was almost too dumbfounded to realise what he was sitting on. Who he was sitting on, I should say. Boadicea stood as tall and as beautiful as that last day we spent together in Blackwater. The sight could have taken my breath away, if I had any. 

I wanted to step closer, to pat my girl on the neck and feel to make sure she was really there, but I wasn’t ready to move just yet. 

“What… What the hells goin’ on?” 

Daddy dearest chuckled, probably at my ironic choice of wording, and Boadicea stomped a foot on the ground. Despite everything, all I wanted to do was to get Lyle Morgan off my horse, but there’d be time for it. 

“You’re dead, son. Nasty shot to the head, though you put up a good fight.” He said it like he was recounting the most mundane story ever told, not breaking the news that his only son had died. I considered his words, finding a strange peace with them all.

“...This Hell?” It had to be, right? There’s no other way he could be here, not with the way he treated me and Ma. I dreaded to think what Boadicea could have done to deserve an afterlife with him, but it made more sense than both of us fools being let into the pearly gates upstairs everyone always goes on about. 

Pa chuckled again, clearly finding my demise much more casual news than I, “To some, but not in the way you’re thinkin’ of it. I’ve got some bad news, boy.” 

“Worse than my death?” It was annoying me, how elusive and blasé he was being about everything, dragging this out for longer than he needed while holding the cards right up close to his chest. He knew what was going on, and yet there he was, sitting on Boadicea like he owned whatever goddamn realm we were in. Surely this was Hell, having this conversation with the man who beat me into who I am today. Who I was, before karma caught up with me and shot me in the face. 

“Depends on how much you were lookin’ forward to it.”

My teeth ground together as the frustration at his evasiveness built. He must’ve sensed it, as he dismounted Boadicea and patted her on the neck.  It threw me more than it should, watching the man I’d left long behind me interacting with my beloved Boa. 

He stood just as tall as the day I watched him hang, the only difference being a nasty scar that wound around his neck and made me dread to think what I might look like. It was like looking at a ghost. Well, I guess I was looking at a ghost. 

“You’re still here, Arthur. On Earth. Seems you did just enough good there in the end that they didn’t know what to do with you. Too bad to make it to the upstairs, too good to burn in Hell… for now.”

“Earth? But… I’m… we’re-“

“Dead? Yeah. But you’re stuck here, doin’ their bidding.” 

He was running his fingers over Boadicea’s mane, and she shook her head in response. She seemed like she wanted his hands off her as much as I did, but I had to find out what was going on first. 

“Bidding? Who’s bidding? Can you just be straight with me for one damn minute-“

“Patience, boy.” He snapped, bringing out one of Boadicea’s signature annoyed huffs, “The White Throne’s bidding. You’re theirs now. You do as they say, or you end up in a far worse position than you’re in now.”

I felt like I needed to sit down, but unless I was going to climb back in that grave, there was nowhere to rest. 

“I… I don’t understand.”

Lyle sighed, turning fully towards me and hooking his thumbs in his belt loops.

“The White Throne have chosen you to be a Black Badge, Arthur. You’re not alive, nor are you fully dead. You work for them until they decide they’re done with you, and then…” 

“And then?”

“Well… I ain’t sure, truth be told, boy. I never got as far as you, I’m just here to pass the message on.”

None of it made any sense, and I had no idea who this White Throne was. Dad didn’t seem to have the answers, nor did he seem inclined to give them to me even if he did. It was then I noticed that my heart should be pounding out of my chest. Instead, it felt hollow, the anxiety of my situation bouncing around an empty can of nothing. 

So this was really happening…

“They’ll call on you when they need you with this,” he turned, rummaging through Boadicea’s saddle bag and handing me a journal. It looked exactly like the one I gave to Marston just before I died, the one I collected my thoughts and sketches in, only when I flicked through the pages, they were all blank. 

“Keep an eye on it, it’ll tell you what you need to do, who to look for, or where to go.”

“What am I, a goddamn undead bounty hunter?” 

He laughed, a proper hearty laugh that would’ve made my skin crawl had I not been so occupied with the confusion of it all. 

“You could say that. But you’re not just after anyone, they’ll send you off to the supernatural stuff. Vampires, werewolves, demons, that sort. You’ll get the hang of it.”

I was so stuck on the whole supernatural thing that I hardly noticed him step towards me, slapping a hand onto my shoulder. I froze, but not because my father had touched me for the first time in decades, but because I couldn’t feel a damn thing.

He must’ve seen the shock on my face, cause his brows pulled together in a pitiful look, “Ah, yeah… there’s some side effects to death, son. But I’m sure you’ll figure that one out.” 

‘Side effects’ was a light way of putting it. I’d later find out that we unlucky few in the Black Badge have a fair few impediments. I can’t feel. Not the sun on my face, the wind in my hair, the touch of another, not even the burn of a good whiskey. I don’t feel pain, which can be helpful at times I guess. I can’t taste anything, either. It’s a unique punishment, to be stuck walking the earth but not really living, having no access to those simple pleasures in life like a stiff drink or the touch of a pretty lady. If I’d have known what was waiting for me at the end of all this, well… maybe I’d have made some different choices. 

“It’s a lot to take in, I know.” 

I glanced to my shoulder, finding Dad’s hand still there. He must’ve sensed my discomfort, removing his touch- or lack thereof- from me. 

“You’ll get the hang of it, son.” 

If I weren’t so preoccupied with my new lot in life (or death, I should say), now would have been the perfect time to confront the man who stood beside me. Ask him why he did what he did, get some answers for every question my teenage self tortured himself with while he wandered the streets for somewhere to stay for the night. But when I turned, he was gone, without a single trace to suggest he was ever there in the first place. Seems I’d gotten all the information out of him I was entitled to. 

That left me and Boadicea, standing beside an empty grave I wasn’t sure anyone would have visited anyway. 

I sighed, finally stepping towards her and patting her neck in that spot she always loved. 

“Well girl, guess this is it for a while…” 

I looked down to the journal in my hand, just in time to see inky black writing appear on the page as if bleeding through the realms.

‘Welcome to the Black Badge, Arthur Morgan.’

[sunshine-in-a-bottle]

👀 for the end of year meme? also hi suds

Listen I could continue to talk about how I may be just utterly insane and need to give up trying to make the CKAU "written well" and just Write It but also there's another annoying thing I haven't gotten time to finish AND ITS. THE GODDAMN STRANGER'S VASSAL CHAPTER. I dont know how to do read more on desktop here have a snippet of the pre-Dreambur shenanigans.

-

With each step they took towards an unknown future, Dream debated the pros and cons of making a run for it.

The likelihood of getting away from Tommy was easy; the boy next to him clearly lacked major discipline needed for the kind of chase Dream would give him, and his stamina was likely lacking, if his complaints about being tired were anything to go by. Dream could run into the nearby trees and lose him in a few short bursts of speed.

Ahead of them all, Wilbur seemed slightly trickier. He was frail in some ways, long and spindly, but there was a sharpness to his gaze, and muscle in his arms that implied he was an archer. If he had a bow in his inventory, it wouldn't matter if Dream could outpace Tommy; a good enough aim would pierce his heart, if the odds weren't in his favor.

Of course, that only mattered if Wilbur really did have a bow.

That left Techno behind him, who would be impossible to outpace. The horse he was riding was one of the finest Dream had ever seen, sharp and defined, with a regal bearing that would put kings to shame. It would catch up to him with no trouble at all, and then Techno would cut him down. Kind of anticlimactic after all the effort it took to escape.

He sighed. Wilbur perked up.

"Something the matter, Dream?"

He tried to put on a smile, but it felt weak on his face. He really needed that mask. "Just… getting used to being free. It's kind of strange, you know?"

Wilbur's expression softened. "Of course, I understand completely. It must have been very hard for you to live under the thumb of such tyranny."

Dream's smile twisted into a grimace, and he turned away to avoid Wilbur's gaze and his sorry sympathies. The prince didn't know a thing about tyranny, didn't know a thing about Dream. And Dream wasn't going to tell him. He knew better.

XD's mark grinned wide on the back of his hand.

Any reasonable person would want him dead, rather than risk the end of the world. And he didn't blame them, even if he would really rather live long enough to see his twenty-second birthday.

He would just have to wait for a better opportunity. Weigh his options a little. Eventually they would slip up long enough for him to make his escape, and then he'd be gone. Finally, truly free.

-

"Have you ever fought a giant spider?"

"No."

"Have you ever fought a skeleton?"

"No."

"Have you ever fought a dragon?"

"No." Dream groaned, and turned to glare at Wilbur's youngest brother. "When would I have ever fought a dragon? You know they're extinct. Aren't princes supposed to get fancy lessons or something?"

"They can't all be right." Tommy grumbled. He kicked a pebble off the path, and Wilbur fought the urge to scold him over proper decorum; their guest needed to see them at their best. But even if Tommy couldn't maintain proper image, Wilbur could, so he would do his best to pick up the slack.

"Even if they were around," Techno said. His horse- Carl- trotted forward to walk beside Dream, and Techno peered down at him with amusement. "Its not likely he would have faced one and lived to talk about it. They're supposed to be pretty strong guys."

Dream scowled. "And you would do so much better?"

"Now I didn't say that."

[skollwolf]

I am here a few days late with some questions for the fic writer ask game!!

4 - a story idea you haven’t written yet?

14 - where do you get your inspiration?

30 - share a fic you’re especially proud of!

Aw, thank you friend! 💖

4 - A story idea you haven't written yet

There was this fic idea that burst into my mind in vivid color shortly after I first played Disco Elysium, which was for some reason a Scum Villain's Self Saving System (SVSSS) fic written in the style of DE. Shut-in gamer Shen Yuan is absolutely obsessed with an episodic video game called Proud Immortal Detective Way. It's a xianxia-styled detective thriller, where Shen Qingqiu--an immortal master with a hinted-at dark past--and his disciple Luo Binghe work together to solve a murder in Jin Lan City.

Ever since the very first episodes released, Shen Yuan has been incredibly well known on the fan forums for his vitriolic insistence that any episode now there's going to be a twist where it's revealed that Luo Binghe has been the true hero of the piece all along, just pretending to be a mediocre side kick to catch his no-good shizun off guard. Even as game developer Airplane starts investing more and more time into DLCs that add romantic interactions into the game--and why are all these women falling all over Shen Qingqiu when Luo Binghe is right there, huh??!!--Shen Yuan remains convinced. And when Airplane hints at a huge reveal in the next update, only to drop yet another romance-centered episode, Shen Yuan chokes to death out of sheer shocked rage, and wakes up--inhabiting Shen Qingqiu's body at the beginning of Proud Immortal Detective Way's storyline??

Well, didn't Shen Yuan put over 50 hours into the first episode alone, diligently documenting every plot thread that supported his reading of the game? Hasn't he written nearly a hundred different guides on the best stat distributions to unlock different secret routes early?? Forget the mystery in Jin Lan City--this is Shen Yuan's chance to solve the real mystery of who Luo Binghe really is once and for all!

....obviously I haven't done this yet, because this seems like...such a niche overlap? But it does exist in my head completely rent free. Maybe someday I will.

wow realized how long that'd gotten in only the first question, oops. here's a read more to make other people's dashes less cluttered up with my nonsense.

14 - where do you get your inspiration?

I feel like there's two answers to this question: what inspires my story ideas, and what inspires me to write. as for the first one, my story ideas usually kinda descend into my head abruptly and insistently, accompanied by the character that wants me to tell them. I'm kinda just a vehicle for what the characters are doing, the majority of the time.

as for what inspires me to actually sit down and write, though, that's music 100%! Every fic I write has an accompanying song or playlist that I put on while writing. can't write without 'em.

30 - share a fic you’re especially proud of!

the fic I'm currently writing and publishing, House Fire, is my absolute favorite thing I've written in ages. I love everything about writing it. my word processor tells me it's currently 145 pages long and it's nowhere near done, so the bits I've published are kinda the tip of that particular iceberg. That said, it's uh....very nsfw, so not everybody's cup of tea.

another older fic of mine that I'm still very proud of is Blinding. I did some things there with nonlinear storytelling and an unreliable narrator that I think landed really well!

[sushis-wild-imagination]

Before Bed Routine with Seventeen (bonus - fav cuddles)

My head is going bonkers. they're preferences/ short fics? or something idk. 13 fics are too many to write, but I didn't want to leave out any members. I love them all so much. So much domestic seventeen 🥹 This is so long god. (That's what she said ahahahaha, okay bye)

Seventeen Masterlist <3

Seungcheol

One thing you HAVE to do together is brush your teeth before bed. You would always do it together, to a point where it's weird when he's away or not sleeping over.

Then you get into bed and play ONE ROUND of a multiplayer game. Just one round. No more no less. Some days he goes easy on you, some days he doesn't, but you've gotten very good at the game over time.

"Why are you suddenly so good at this game?"

"I have a tutor" you sing teasing him.

"Yah, who is teaching you games apart from me?"

"Mingyu" you lie to tease him and he ends up tackling you playfully.

He always sleeps on his back and you've wondered how that's even comfortable but that's actually good for your neck. You always somehow end up sleeping hugging his arm sticking your forehead to his bicep. It's quite comfortable. You're used to sleeping hugging something, and that 'something' quickly turned into seungcheol's arm, it was a lot more comfortable than putting your head on it because it was so stiff, all that muscle looks great but made it tough to lay ON his arm but hugging worked just fine.

In the morning you had to change the sheets today but you accidentally brought fitted sheets instead of the normal ones. You held them up confused.

"How to do this?" asking no one in particular.

"Ask Mingyu" he shoots back making a face and you laugh.

"Maybe I will"

"Yah!"

Jeonghan

"Do you want complete that lego set?"

You nod and help him with the pieces. It was quiet but doing anything with him was fun, even if it meant doing it in silence. The time slipped away without you realising it was 12am and you had an early day the next day.

"Can we do the rest tomorrow babe? If I don't sleep now, I'm definitely sleeping on my desk tomorrow" you say groaning.

"You can sleep on your desk" he says holding your hand and pulling it to bring you back to him as you go to get up to head in.

He presses a kiss to your cheek and lets you go. He just wanted to steal a kiss.

“Just kidding, I'll be there in a bit" he says and you reply to the sweet cheek kiss by landing one on his cheek before getting up.

You felt the bed sink next to you that woke you up a little. "Jeonghan" you mutter ad feel his body weight on you.

Jeonghan likes to be babied. As much as he is often seen as someone who takes care of others, he loves to be babied just as much. He usually falls asleep with his head buried in your neck, holding on to you like he’s your personal koala. You got used to holding him like that. It wasn't comfortable for you in the beginning because he was heavy but you've gotten so used to it now that you can't sleep without a weight crushing your chest.

You substitute him with a pillow when he's not around but it's never the same.

Joshua

You were on the couch watching a new show that you started with Joshua and promised each other you'll watch it together. He walked in as the show was on with something to munch on, nachos.

"Thanks baby" you mutter with your eyes glued to the television.

He sits next to you, but you were too attentive to the screen to go any closer to even cuddle him, you were that invested but Joshua didn't seem as interested in this next episode as he was before when you started watching the show. Suspicion 1.

Suddenly in the story line there is a major plot twist that makes you go "No way" really loudly.

But wait a minute, Shua did not have a big reaction to it. Suspicion 2.

"You've already seen this, haven't you?" you ask pausing the ep and turning to him. Feeling a little betrayed but it was still okay if he did.

A small smile crept on his face that made you realise and smile as well. "Hong Jisoo, you scammed me" you say playfully hitting his BIG bicep.

"I haven't, I really haven't" he kept denying it but his face said otherwise. It was hilarious to watch him like this.

"Lies!" you cross your hands over your chest acting like you're upset.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I couldn't wait" he apologised and went to unfold your folded hands while giggling. His giggles were contagious.

"Yah! get out, I'll watch this on my own" you say joking.

"I'll watch it again, no spoilers" he says suddenly becoming clingy to your side to convince you to not be upset anymore.

"One spoiler and you're out," you yell a little joking around.

"Promise, promise" he promises with his pinky out.

After a long episode you were already asleep on the couch, on his shoulder, he looks down to check if you're up and you were out like a light. He presses a soft kiss to your temple to wake you up.

"Let's go to bed" he whispers shaking you a bit. You wake up because of the shaking, but still not completely up. There was a weird taste in your mouth like you've slept for hours.

You settle back on the bed and get much more comfortable. You usually stick to his side as he sleeps on his back with his hands behind his head. You were on his side hugging his waist burying your head in his side. He washes up before bed and the fragrance of the soap his uses is a lullaby to you. You pass out almost immediately.

Jun

It was a fairly free day, you went out with Jun to get brunch and hung out in your apartment after. He’s been sleeping over quite often. You even have a toothbrush with his name on it. He was slowly occupying space and you just wanted to ask him if he wants to move in.

You were now in the living room, lying your head on his lap and reading away at your kindle. The book was so interesting you forgot to move and stretch. You stayed in the same position on Jun for about three hours. When you do go to move and go to bed, your neck has completely cramped up.

You groan.

Your neck was sore because you were at an angle on his lap, you only realise when you get out of that position.

“What?”

“I think my neck cramped up” you say groaning and holding your neck.

His hands go to your neck to massage the cramp out.

“Do you feel better?” you nod.

When you go to bed, he likes being the big spoon and holding you while he presses your back as close as he can to him. You were a teddy bear substitution really. You can feel his breath on your neck and that puts you to sleep every night.

Hoshi

"Stop cheating" You say as you see him steal money from the bank when you're not looking. You were in the middle of Monopoly.

"Kwon SoonYoung!"

"I didn't do anything" he says whining, totally lying because you caught him red handed.

“Lies!” You giggle while he tries to hide the money in his palm. You go for his fist trying to open it by force to find the stolen money, you were sitting across each other, you had to go over the board.

You end up falling on top of him in attempts to get the money out.

“I surrender, I surrender” he says trying to get you off as both of you laugh.

“Okay, I cheated I cheated” he puts his hands up in surrender.

You sit back breathing heavily. “I win, you clean up” you say getting up getting ready to go to bed. You hear him groan, board games are a mess to wrap up, there’s pieces everywhere.

You were just getting into bed while he walks in and jumps on the bed making it shake.

“If this bed breaks SoonYoung…” you see an immediate smirk on his face that turns your ears red.

“And what?” He says snuggling into you, pecking whatever skin he could before settling and pulling the blanket over the both of you.

“And nothing” you mutter blushing hard.

He face was completely buried in your neck, you were worried if it wasn’t getting too hot for him.

“Aren’t you hot?” You could feel his sweat on your neck.

“Its perfect”

Wonwoo

“To the right” you say and push his face to the right a little while Wonwoo just sits there reading his book.

You were scribbling away at your sketchbook trying to do some anatomy practice and who better than your boyfriend, this also served as a nice excuse to get him to take his shirt off.

Wonwoo being the best boyfriend, obliged to ALL your demands and now was reading a book to bed shirtless.

“Tada!”

You push the book to him for him to see.

“You draw me a lot more handsome than I am Y/N” he looks up at you after looking at your sketchbook and pushes his glasses up his nose that had slid down looking down at your sketchbook.

“Nonsense, you’re perfect” you say getting on your knees to give him a quick peck before putting the sketchbook away. You didn’t realise how tired you had become, you yawned and stretched your arms. It was time to sleep.

Wonwoo also laid down but his book was still in his hand reading away. You dozed off laying his chest hugging him sideways.

After a while you are awakened because of the night lamp still being on on the nightstand. You lazily look up to see Wonwoo asleep with his book in his hands and glasses still on his face. You find yourself slightly chuckling. You tear the book from his hands and put it on your side of the nightstand.

Next mission was to take his glasses off without waking him up. You hold your breath incase that wakes him up. You slowly pull at his glasses and they come off. You go to put them away and you hear him move next to you.

Luckily he didn’t wake up, he just turned to his side and pulled you closer. You chuckle again. You turn the lights off and kiss his forehead goodnight before dozing off in his arms again.

Woozi

“Ta ta taaa”

You hear Woozi correct you, sitting next to you at the keyboard trying to teach you happy birthday.

You thought learning an instrument from your genius boyfriend would give you some bonding time but boy were you wrong.

The man was very serious about music and instruments and you were horribly failing. You pout.

“Why is happy birthday so hard?” you hear him chuckle at you giving up so easily.

“Its okay, you’ll learn slowly, you’ll have to practice”

You give up on things very fast, things you’re not instantly good at, tend to get dropped. Thats why you have so many hobbies. This instrument was a first though, maybe that’s why you were struggling.

“Its too late in the night for me to focus” you make up an excuse. You didn’t want to learn anymore.

“Okay, whatever you want” he says tucking the strand of hair that fell on your face and didn’t let him see your face fully. “Lets go to bed” he adds and you stand up.

You had already washed up luckily so all you had to do was crash, but Jihoon had to wash up. You end up getting into bed and watching something on your phone. You feel thre bed sink behind you and an arm snake up your waist.

You turn your head to his side still a little sleepy. “You’re here” you say in a daze and he takes the phone to put it away. He loved being big spoon. He cuddles you all the time. He presses a sweet ‘goodnight’ kiss to your shoulder and settles to sleep.

Minghao

“You do want ice cream?” Minghao asks you from the kitchen counter while you were on the couch changing channels on the tv. It was around 11:30 now. You could use some ice cream so you nod to his question.

He turns to check the freezer and there isnt any. “Do you want to go grab some?” He asks and you contemplate.

These impromptu snack runs were your cute little thing you did with Hao. You nodded even more furiously like a little puppy that makes him giggle.

“Lets go” he comes over to you to take your hand and guides you out putting your shoes on. Its a little cold out, Minghao grabbed his puff coat but you only had 2 layers and a hoodie. You prayed it was enough to keep you warm.

As soon as you stepped out you realise it wasn’t. It gets even more chilly in the night. You walk for a bit but minghao sees you struggling with the cold. The convenience store is close to your apartment but he had a better idea.

He unzipped his coat and pulled you into it. “What are you doing?” It made you giggle. Will you both fit?

“Youve been watching too many kdramas Hao”

He giggles at that and zips the jacket behind you, you were now trapped in Minghao’s jacket and had to walk backwards.

“Im gonna fall and take you down with me” you say holding on to his torso inside the jacket for dear life because you were losing all balance.

“Turn around” he says and you do that. Now its a back hug. You laugh at the situation as he exclaims “lets go!” And starts walking. All you could do was laugh.

“Are you still cold?” He asks wrapping his hands around you, your hands were trapped inside the jacket. You were barely cold with the warmth of the jacket and his body.

“Im okay” you say. “But this is ridiculous”

“But you’re ALSO not cold anymore” he points out. You can’t help but agree.

You get to the convenience store and grab a few ice cream bars. The guy behind the register looked at you weird, you couldn’t figure out if it was because both of you were literally wearing ONE jacket or getting ice cream in this cold weather. Regardless it didn’t matter with Minghao, you were having fun.

When you got home you ate the ice creams and get into bed.

“I think I’m gonna catch a cold tomorrow” you say with the cold weather and the ice cream.

He pecks your lips suddenly.

“Can’t let you fall sick on your own”

You laugh and push him into the bed. When you’re finally ready to sleep, you’ve never been cuddlers, neither of you. You tried once and it made you sweat a lot. You interlock legs instead or lean your leg on his. Thats as far as cuddling went. It was a mutual agreement, you were glad. You do cuddle when you feel like it, but it wasn’t the usual. Sometimes you would hold hands and even hold just pinky fingers in the middle of the both of you. You found that very cute. It was your ‘thing’. You cherished it.

Mingyu

“Here” he says putting the sheet mask on your face and playfully pressing into your cheeks in the name of pressing the ‘liquids’ into your skin.

“Yah yah, stop it” you say catching on and he gives you a playful smile.

You in return wash his face, rather use that an an excuse to give him a water slap.

He eyes widen while you laugh out loud. “Yah, come here” as you try to run away and plop on the bed and get ready for game night.

You both were obsessed with this new multiplayer shooting game and played it almost every night. You made a good team.

He walked in with a similar face sheet mask on his face. He sat next to you on the bed to start the game.

“Yah, yah, give me cover, give me cover” he yells tapping away furiously at his phone screen. You were mirroring the exact same expression because you were very close to winning OR losing, it was crucial.

“Im trying, I’m tryi-“ you collective groan out loud when you lose. Both your characters died.

“Yah” he yells and puts you in a headlock with his big arms. You’re hitting the bed like a surrender sign in WWE.

“We almost won”

“Let me go” you try to pry his arms from you while laughing.

This behaviour might seem odd between couples but you were actually best friends before you realised you were in love with each other. It never was super cheesy romantic with Mingyu but it was so comfortable and you both loved each other. You said I love yous with headlocks and water slaps.

He playfully and aggressively kisses your head with the headlock still intact.

“Is this what you do with a woman on your bed?” You question and that makes him stop.

“Why? Do you want to do something else?” He playfully smirks.

You hit him in the face with a pillow and he crashed on the bed giggling. You fell back he turns to lights off.

You settle to go to bed, you’re too hyper when you’re together. You’ve always slept hugging each other like he’s going to disappear if you let go. He leaves a last kiss on your head before whispering a little goodnight.

Dokyeom

You hear a scream when you were washing up before bed.

“Why? Why why why?” A stream of whys leave your mouth with the toothbrush in your mouth.

“Spider, its HUGE”

You’ve become Seokmins personal bug catcher ever since you first became friends and then started dating. The first thing you did for seokmin when you met him was him screaming at a bug and you helping out a stranger shooing away a spider on set.

You take a tissue and catch the bug while he hides behind you the whole time chanting your name, more like shrieking it.

You take the bug to a window and let it go.

“Get into bed, scaredy cat” you say as you continue to brush your teeth. You

Another rule is 'No screen time before bed' you would just cuddle up and talk about the day, complain about this colleague of yours that would constantly copy everything you do. He would tease you for being an 'influencer' to this colleague. You playfully smack his arm and hide your face in your hands out of embarrassment.

"Yah, my girlfriend is an influencer" it makes you laugh and cringe at the same time.

Dokyeom finally settles hugging your waist and puts his forehead on your shoulder while you sleep on your back. That's his most comfortable and favourite cuddling position.

Seungkwan

It was almost 1am when you heard the door click you were on the couch waiting for Seungkwan to come back from work. You were half asleep.

“You’re here?” You ask in a dazed as he comes into view.

“What are you doing up?” He asks worried putting his bags away. He sits by your side and holds your face.

“Do you eat?” You ask again sounding very sleepy.

“I did, Did you?” He asks again softly caressing your cheek.

You nod with a little hmm.

“Why’d you wait up? Lets get you to bed” he says and helps you get into bed and also tucks you in while he washes up before getting into bed.

You turn instinctively when he gets into bed. He loves being the small spoon, absolutely loves humming lullbabys in harmony with you, sometimes also gets a little too carried away and does ad libs but today you were both tired.

You turn to find his back and hang on like a koala with your leg on him as well.

“Are you too tired” you ask him to check up on him and he nods saying a little ‘hmm’ you end up patting him to sleep.

“Good job today, I’m proud of you�� you tell him and kiss the back of his head that was in front of you.

You didn’t even know what he did at work today but you know he works hard and did a good job regardless. You believed in him.

Vernon

You and Vernon were already tucked into bed, there was this little thing you and him would do. You would find music that the other person would like and make them listen to it.

He pushed the earpods into your ear gently.

“You are going to love this song” he hypes it up even before the song starts. This just helped you understand him better and vice versa. It was a nice quality time session.

He pressed play on his phone and you stared hearing the music as he intently looked at your reaction to the song. He looked up at you so expectantly, he really hoped you would like the song and waited at every beat drop to see how you would react. It was cute. He was cute.

The song finally ended and without missing a beat you hear him ask you

“Howd you like it?”

You were quite impressed with the song but you were so absorbed in looking at his cute face not a lot of the song registered in your head.

“Im sorry, I was so distracted by your cute face” you say and ask him to play it again.

He presses play and hides his face in a pillow on his side.

“Yah what are you doing?” You ask and you get a very muffled response.

“Im doing this so you dont get distracted again, focus on the song” he scolds and you go back to the music. That makes you laugh.

After the music session that turned into karaoke real quick, you decide to go to bed.

He also liked being the small spoon but somehow in the morning its completely switched and you find yourself in his arms. Regardless you don’t let go of each other in the night. Not sure how thats even possible because of the heat but you find yourself always attached even in the mornings. You found it fascinating.

Dino

You do the dishes together every night you get the chance, its a bonding thing. Quality time was one of your love languages and you loved being domestic with Chan. Sometimes you put on music, sometimes he did his micheal jackson dance to make you laugh. He loved making you laugh.

“Rock paper scissors” he yells suddenly and by instinct you pull your hand out into a rock.

Aha! You had won, he pulled out a scissor.

This impromptu fight was to decide who washes and who dries. We all know drying is a lot easier than washing. So it was a given that the loser washes the dishes.

He'd put to some music and dance with you with his gloves on, while he danced, he forgot about his wet gloves and held you by the waist to get you to dance with him. You immediately hissed at the cold glove touching you.

“My tee’s wet now”

“You can take it off” he says suggestively and wiggles his eyebrows while you playfully hit his bicep laughing.

“Good try”

He always babied with 12 older hyungs so he loves being protective because you’re younger. In cuddling that translates you him always being the big spoon.

The next morning you hear something you hear very often. “I can’t feel my arm” because you were sleeping on it all night almost.

“Its just a part of being the big spoon” you tease and peck his lips first thing in the morning before getting out of bed.

“Its just a part of being the big spoon” he repeats and starts exercising his arm to get back the blood flow.

———

Fin. This was so freaking long. If you made it here, Thank you so much for reading, ily <3

More seventeen fics to come, pls wait for them.

[freebullets]

Hook Ch.15 Preview

He woke with the immediate feeling that everything was wrong. His body was sore, his eyes were still drooping with exhaustion, he was staring at yet another unfamiliar ceiling, but most of all, his heart ached with an abiding sense of despair and loneliness that had seeped in while he was sleeping. What a way to celebrate the holiday season. His showcase was in three days.

He hissed at the pain that spiked in his arm as he sat up, mind foggy but already trying to map out his next moves. A clatter behind him had him twisting his head quickly.

“Sorry,” Tao whispered loudly, still buttoning up his shirt as he clambered through the messy kitchen, pulling open the refrigerator and frowning. “Fan ge is still sleeping, his shift isn’t until later. I was going to make us some breakfast, but it’s pretty sad in here.”

“Oh, no problem,” Jongdae said, even as his stomach protested its roaring hunger. “Really.”

“How is your wound?” Tao said, moving into the living room and sitting down on the coffee table in front of Jongdae.

“It stings, but not more than I was expecting, if that makes sense,” Jongdae shrugged. “Umm, I don’t mean to impose, but if you’re leaving, and you drive, can I get a ride with you?” What was one more lift from one more tangential stranger.

“Oh,” Tao said, narrow eyes widening. “Of course! But…” he glanced behind Jongdae. “You didn’t have any other business with Yifan?”

It seemed to Jongdae that there was an underlying question other than the one that he was asking. “Tao, I swear that us meeting last night was a total coincidence,” Jongdae tried to reassure him. “I’m not—we’re not—anything at all. In fact, I’m pretty sure he hates me. You have nothing to worry about.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Tao said quickly, cheeks flushing.

“I just…” Jongdae sighed. “I’m out of options. I don’t have any money, or my jacket, or my shoes, and I’m pretty sure I’m never getting my phone back.” Well, Joonmyun’s phone. At least he still had his old one at home. “I wouldn’t bother you otherwise, but I…I need help,” he finally admitted, eyes pricking with a sudden surge of emotion.

“Oh…” Tao said, his own eyes watering. “Jongdae, I’m sorry…Do you want to talk about it?”

Jongdae shook his head vigorously. Even if he did want to get something off his chest, under his circumstances a police officer would never be at the top of his list for confessions. “No! No, I…I just need a ride. Please.” Hopefully his landlord or someone in the front office would be wiling to let him back into the apartment before Kyungsoo got back and yelled at him for leaving everything so messy. Maybe not yelled. Maybe a penetrating glare or two.

[eienshi09]

Final Final Fantasy II Thoughts

Final Fantasy II (or at least, as I've pontificated about at length, the Dawn of Souls version of it) is quite an alright game. It was an incredibly ambitious project for its time. And though its time shackled it with some unfortunate mechanics, there's still a lot of interesting things it was trying to do. After a couple of iterations, it even manages to get to a state where it does those things in a quite enjoyable way.

In my parting thoughts on Final Fantasy I, I also said that I mostly enjoyed my time with it. And I genuinely did. But I meant it in a sense of, like, this was able to fill my time and be largely inoffensive. Meanwhile, I was actually thoroughly fascinated by Final Fantasy II, for better or worse. Where its predecessor was just about adequate all around, FFII has peaks and valleys for it does, or at least tries, so much more than its predecessor.

One immediately notable improvement is simple addition of dialogue. Your party members aren't just featureless avatars anymore. They're actual characters. Well, there's still a bit of room to improve on the characterization fronts, but for the time, they've got something resembling a personality that shows through what little speech they do get. The dialogue itself is rather basic and more or less boils down to some other character telling you where to go next, but there are some details about the world or situation that they manage to squeeze in that wasn't present in FFI.

The keyword system in particular was rather interesting, and something I wish they would have utilized more. It felt kind of lacking as the game went on and you got new ones less frequently and the situation only calls for a very specific keyword. I would have liked to be able to ask someone about an older keyword and they give me their current thoughts on the matter recontextualized by the most recent in-game event. For example (and I'll try to be vague but we are talking about a 35-year-old game here), after you've gotten the Ultima spell, Hilda has nothing to say about it, despite a rather important character - especially to her, of all people - sacrificing themselves so that we could acquire it. And this might be the one exception where the game does reward you for following up with someone after major events, but if you revisit Deist to tell the woman about the fate of the last dragoon, she not only has something to say but gives you a cool sword! So it's not like they didn't think to use the keyword system to add in some extra bits of lore and worldbuilding for the player.

Narratively, the game is well-enough paced, pulpy as it is. Though again, towards the end when it's back to back to back dungeons of six and more floors, it kind of wears on you. The false climax and twist reveal and double twist was, however, actually really well done. One could see it coming but that's the point; it was built up to and hinted at throughout and then paid off with you finally reuniting with your long-lost fourth party member. I only wish we had more interactions with the Dark Knight during the story.

Systems-wise, I don't think I have much else to say that I haven't already. FFII's usage-based character progression system was the first of its kind and incredibly ambitious. It could have used a few more iterations even after the couple of iterations of the DoS port.

It'd be easy to think that II would be favorable to FFI due to its higher production values alone, but I think I would have enjoyed the original version of 1 more than the original version of II, given some of the original design choices. And even though the Dawn of Souls changes bolstered the experience of playing II so much more than it did for 1, both games share the same overall "problem" of me wishing more was done to them.

Random encounters (I promise to be brief) continues to be a thorn in trying to play any "classic" JRPG, and while it isn't especially egregious in FFII, I still maintain that they could have added in a Repel item of some kind. Actually, I may be overly harsh here. The game does at the very least add in some fast travel options for you to get around in the early-to-mid game. They're somewhat limited, but very much welcome as you're traveling back-and-forth from Altair to various points of interest. Fleeing, however, is still just as much of a hassle, perhaps more so for reasons I'll get to right now.

One area that I think FFI did better at is boss fights. II's bosses were just late and endgame enemies dropped somewhere earlier where they'll be a greater challenge. This made the endgame kind of boring as we keep seeing these old bosses turn up again and again. Worst yet, any battle where one of them show up, you can't flee from at all. It's as if the game was still treating them as boss fights or something. Weirder even is that FFII does have some unique extra hard enemies that use a "boss sprite" but they're all technically optional, being treasure chest monsters. It's just kinda strange.

Though maybe the original release of Final Fantasy II deserves its dubious reputation, there is a good game in there. Playing it now, especially playing a version that does do some work to polish it up, I really wish it got the total remake treatment that its two successors got on the DS. Or even now, I wish the Pixel Remasters had been Pixel Remakes instead and breathed new life and modern tech into these old games. It's well and good to see a game as it was in history but I think it's just as fine to see the game where iconic franchise monsters - such as the Coeurl, Adamantoise, Behemoth - came from but with the ability to easily run away from them.

[mooniefics]

— first impressions

pairing : zeke jaeger / fem reader / reiner braun

word count : 7.5k

tags : sorta fluff (i can’t help myself i love reiner), eventual smut, threesome (f/m/m), situational humiliation, one night stand, spitroasting, drunk + unsafe sex

warnings : nsfw, mild sexual coercion

summary : a chance meeting between you and reiner leaves you enjoying an evening with the warriors upon their much anticipated return from the war. but doing your new friends a favor leads to a night you'll never forget.

— originally posted 12 / 22 / 20 on ao3 —

"reiner! is that really you?!"

you stood quickly from your place at the booth, unable to stop yourself from scrambling up to the small group of soldiers, who were all looking down at you with a mixture of confusion and amusment.

"you didn't tell us you had a girlfriend back home, braun." the dark-haired woman to his right teased, earning a crossed frown from your friend.

"not my girlfriend." he muttered, ignoring their chuckles as he turned his attention back to you, "i haven't changed that much in a few months, have i?"

you sighed, a relieved grin breaking out across your face as he opened his arms to you, gratefully accepting his invitation and squeezing him tight, face pressing into his shoulder. the scent of gunpowder that usually clung to him in his uniform was absent on his civilian clothes, replaced instead with the pleasant smell of fresh linen. "a few months? felt more like a whole year to me."

you stayed cognizant of the people behind him, now exchanging curious glances at the sight of their comrade's affection, the woman who'd initially teased him whispering something to the stern looking man by her side that made his expression crack into a small grin. he pulled away from you after a moment, a soft smile warming his usually sullen features, which dampened at a hand being placed on his shoulder.

"would you care to introduce us, reiner?" a low voice asked, the speaker stepping to reiner's side to get a good look at you.

you instantly recognized the man, face flushing with embarrassment as you scrambled to find your words. "c-captain jaeger! i apologize for interrupting your evening, p-please forgive-"

"nonsense." he said, holding out his hand for you to shake, "and no need for the formalities, feel free to call me zeke."

you clasped your hands gratefully around his, shaking vibrantly much to his amusement. you exchanged names with the remaining three, the tired looking but jovial woman, pieck, insisting that you join them on their night out. seeing as you had already planned to be at the old bar for the rest of the night by yourself, you had no qualms with inviting them all to fill the remaining seats of the booth you'd been occupying before they entered.

"pock here isn't much of a talker," she said after everyone got themselves situated, poking the cheek of the man she'd been whispering to earlier, "he's a little shy, but don't hold it against him."

"i thought i told you not to call me that.." he grumbled in reply, smacking away her hand and earning a small round of laughter from everyone at the table. the freshest face among them, colt, flagged down the barmaiden that was milling about the tavern floor, ordering a beer for everyone at the table with a kind smile.

"this'll be the only one for me tonight." you told him across the table after the woman had sauntered away, "i kinda didn't budget to be drinking more than one beer tonight anyways.."

"don't worry about it." you turned at reiner's voice beside you, gaze flitting down to see him thumbing through the bills in his wallet, "i'll pay for you tonight. my treat."

"nice to see that you know how to treat a lady." zeke quipped with a grin from his place on your left, earning another unreadable frown from reiner, but you could see the flush creeping up on his cheeks as a result of the implication.

before he could dismiss his friend, the barmaiden had returned, toting six mugs filled to the brim with beer on her serving platter. everyone murmured their thanks as she passed them around the table, her eyes lingered on colt before she slipped away to attend to another awaiting party.

"look at you, colt! haven't even been here for thirty minutes and you've already got the ladies swooning." pieck drawled, taking a long sip from her mug with a smile on her lips as she watched the young man stammer out an excuse.

you couldn't help but laugh along at the display, taking a generous drink of your own as you watched the conversation pick up around you. pieck seemed to be more than comfortable with everyone at the table, fueling the majority of the discussion with her playful words. porco, as she'd said, didn't seem to be much of a talker, but nodded along to what the others said, contributing a brief input when he saw fit and staying silent for the rest of the time. colt wasn't naive, but he was easy to tease, the perfect target for little jabs here and there from around the table that drew irritated, flustered protests from him and made everyone laugh.

the dynamic that had intrigued you the most was that between zeke and reiner. they didn't speak directly to the other often, mostly relaying remarks through their responses to the others, but when they did, there seemed to be an odd sort of tension between them. not exactly rivals, but not exactly friends either. they were on the same team, but there was a clear disconnect between them despite that. you felt every slight shift that reiner made when zeke addressed him, debating on whether you should request to move from your place between them for your sake or stay as a buffer for reiner's.

everyone was on their third glass—the only exception being reiner, who was nearly through his fourth—definitely loosened up though not quite drunk yet, but before you could put much thought into how you'd go about doing that, porco spoke to you for the first time. "so, how do you even know reiner?"

"oh! i'd also like to know too!" pieck piped up between sips, downing the rest of her mug in one go and resting her chin in her hands. everyone's attention had turned to you in an instant, intently waiting for your response, making your posture stiffen as you twisted your hands in your lap.

"well, it was a few years ago, when the war with the mid-east had just started ramping up." you began, tensing up the slightest bit when you felt your hand brush reiner's under the table, "i was working at the produce shop down on kaiser lane, and one day reiner came by with his mother on one of her grocery visits, she had always spoken to me about him when i was counting up her total. i asked her if this was son she was always talking about, and she said yes and introduced us. reiner looked tired," pieck giggled at that. "so i tried to hurry it up a little for his sake, and then she paid and they both went on their way. later that day i came here, and i saw him sitting alone at the counter, so i decided to sit down next to him and see if he could put up with my insufferable small talk for a little while. we ended up talking all night, and we've been great friends since then."

"well, isn't that the sweetest thing," pieck smiled warmly at you from across the table, balancing her head on one hand so could pensively drum her fingers across the wood, "if i didn't know any better, i'd say you two made a lovely couple!"

"pieck, would you stop bothering reiner." porco chided, waving a hand at your friend, "just look at him, he looks like he's one more girlfriend comment away from popping a blood vessel."

reiner grumbled out a low 'fuck you', gulping down the rest of his beer and flagging down the barmaiden as the rest of the warriors shared a hearty laugh at his expense. you yourself were similarly blushing at their constant assertions of something more between the two of you. it's not as if you hadn't mulled the idea over in your head many times before on all the previous outings you'd been on together, and the few times the two of you had gotten drunk enough to fool around a bit before one of you came to your senses and excused yourself for the night.

there were some days where you were glad you kept a modest distance between yourselves, and there were others where you wanted to do nothing more than throw all caution to the window and just enjoy one irresponsible night of doing whatever came to mind, no doubts or worries or responsibilities to get in the way, politics and the war be damned. you started to shake away those unnecessary thoughts, but zeke did a much better job of distracting you when his arm fell around your shoulders, giving you a friendly squeeze as he spoke.

"i see that even in good company, my colleagues' manners still aren't up to par," he said, directing his words at you but talking loud enough for anyone to hear, "allow me to apologize on their behalf."

"oh hush, zeke, you're the worst out of all of us!" pieck argued through her laughter, playfully kicking his shin under the table, "you're only playing nice because she's here."

her words didn't draw his attention away from your face, gleaming grey eyes intently drinking in the emotions passing over your flushed features. you laughed nervously, turning away to face the rest of the table, sneaking a glance at reiner as the barmaiden swept by to clean up the empty glasses and replace them with filled mugs. he had an irritated frown drawn across his lips, worry lines creasing his face as he gulped down half of his mug in seconds.

"look's like you're finally not the one overdoing it, huh colt?" you heard pieck whisper into the young man's ear, snickering at him when he turned away from her and huffed.

just glancing around at them all made you forget that everyone of them were living on borrowed time, that in less than a month they would most likely be shipped out on their next assignment to defend marley against any one of the neighboring nations that were just waiting to pounce at the slightest slip up. aside from reiner, they all seemed to be forgetting that fact as well in favor of just enjoying this night while it was still young.

another banter-filled hour passed, your table not noticing how the bar had been steadily emptying as closing time drew near. zeke had kept his grasp around you for the entire time, much to reiner's dismay, which was evident on his face each time you tried to coax him back into the conversation, always faltering each time zeke peered over you to repeat your question to him with a thinly veiled haughtiness. reiner had gone through more beer than anyone at the table, his flushed face and low-lidded gaze along with his slurring words letting you know just how drunk he'd really become. but aside from his borderline unpleasant exchanges with your friend, zeke was incredibly charismatic, almost overbearingly so, your own intoxication making it easy for you give in to his infectious energy and laugh along with him and everyone else at the table.

sure, you were worried about reiner, but he knew that you would always be friends at the end of the day, and you had to make a good impression on these newly introduced people who were so kind as to invite you in on one of their rare leisurely getaways from the military barracks. so you let yourself lean into zeke's side, relishing in the warmth that you'd been craving for so long—a warmth that the alcohol only made you want more and more—the break in your routine that you'd been searching for in an evening alone turning into a night that you were sure you wouldn't forget for a long time. they didn't even seem to care that you weren't an honorary marleyan, or even that you were a lowly blue-collar worker that made a measly sum at her meaningless job on a forgettable street corner.

but alas, the blissfully ignorant fun of the table's atmosphere was dampened by the arrival of the barmaiden with your table's tab, setting it down in front of colt with a coy smile as she gathered up the rest of your empty glasses and disappeared into the back of the tavern.

"aw colt, you never made your move!" pieck chided, giggling as she dug into the pocket of her skirt to reach for her wallet just as everyone else around the table was doing.

"reiner.. are you okay?" you gently nudged his arm, looking over with concern at the sight of him. his elbow was propped on the table, forehead resting in the heel of his palm as he stared down at his lap, mouth drawn into a slight frown.

"shit, he's loaded." porco commented snarkily.

"we can't let magath see him like this!" colt said nervously, looking around at his colleagues, waiting for one of them to come up with a plan to deal with this new issue.

you glanced from colt to reiner, then up at zeke, turning back to everyone as you made an offer. "well.. i have a guest room at my house, he could stay there for the night if it makes things any easier for you all."

"oh, you're an angel!" pieck sighed, reaching across the table and clasping your hands in hers, "and if the commander asks, i could say that he decided to stay with his family!!"

"sharp as always, pieck." zeke chimed from beside you, "though, i don't think it'd be fair to make her watch him all by herself, so i think it'd be best if i help her out with him for the evening, just to be sure he doesn't cause her any trouble."

he met eyes with pieck, and for a moment you thought you saw the briefest flash of realization cross her features, the slightest smirk perking up at her lips before her face relaxed back into its natural smile and she nodded at him. "great idea." she said, tugging at porco and colt's sleeves, "i'll deal with these two, and i'll tell the commander that you had a change of heart as well. reiner, hand me your wallet if you can't count the bills."

"i've got it." he grunted, fumbling with his wallet for a few moments before slamming a fistful of bills down in front of her.

"thank you very much!" she sang happily, getting all the money in order and putting her own small tip for the barmaiden before she slapped colt's arm a few times, prompting him to start scooting out of the booth.

zeke finally retracted his arm to begin leaving the booth, standing out on the floor and offering his hand out to you. you flushed, taking it and allowing him to help you to your feet. everyone got themselves situated, stepping out of the bar and saying their goodbyes, pieck, colt, and porco turning to make their way back to the barracks, zeke slinging reiner's arm over his shoulder and following you along as you gave directions on how to get to your home.

there wasn't many words exchanged between the three of you on your short walk, only having some small talk with zeke between the bouts of comfortable silence hanging around you in the warm night air. you arrived home within minutes, wrestling the key into the old lock and holding open the door for zeke to help reiner in.

"i can walk myself, jaeger." he muttered while kicking his shoes off, earning a low chuckle from the older man.

"then why aren't you doing it right now?"

he didn't get a response as you directed them to your bedroom, hoping to settle him down as soon as you could in the hopes of him being able to get enough rest to sleep off the worst parts of his hangover. while zeke assisted him, you scampered over to the guest bedroom to get it ready for your other, less intoxicated guest. but as you opened the door to the bedroom, you were mortified at the sight of your mess upon looking into the room. in the moment of wanting to do something nice for your friends, you'd completely forget about how you'd basically turned your spare room into more of a storage closet.

looking around to try and think about where to get started, hopefully make it look like you didn't completely neglect this room for the past few months before zeke finished putting his friend to bed, you felt a hand on your shoulder, stiffening in surprise as you slowly turned to look at him.

"i-i'm really sorry, i totally wasn't expecting guests tonight, and i promise i've been meaning to move everything to the basement-"

"don't worry about it, really." he stopped you before you could continue to profusely apologize, offering you another one of those warm smiles that made your knees feel weak, "let me help you, it's the least i could do after you opened your home to a couple of irresponsible soldiers." to your surprise, he brushed past you, picking up one of the many boxes that had accumulated on the bed and floor over the months. "you said you had a basement, right? would you mind showing me where it is exactly?"

unable to find your words, you pointed halfheartedly to the door at the end of the hall, watching him carry one of the few boxes that had left you panting by the time you'd transported them across the house with ease, not even having to set it down to open the door and begin descending the steps. his quick return up the steps finally spurred you into action, hauling another box into your arms and repeating his path of depositing it down in your basement and returning to your room to grab another, making sure to take it slow on your way down the steps from how heavy the alcohol made your limbs feel.

within a few minutes, you both had everything squared away. you let yourself take a seat on the now empty bed, breathing out a sigh of relief and wiping the sweat that had begun to bead around your forehead with the back of your hand, watching as he settled down next to you. "sheesh, you made all that heavy lifting look so easy! and thank you again, for doing such a generous favor for me."

"there's no need to thank me." he replied earnestly, a hand settling on your thigh, making you suppress a small flinch, "you have a lovely home, do you really live all on your own?"

you tried to laugh off the warmth of his hand on your skin through your long skirt. "y-yeah, it's just been me for a while. sometimes friends come over for the night, but for the most part, it's just me."

zeke hummed pensively, grey eyes shining with something dangerous as he gazed down at you. "makes sense that someone such as yourself hasn't found anybody qualified enough to settle down with," he grinned at your flustered expression, openly appreciating the way your eyes widened and you breathed out a soft, indecisive 'thank you', "though, i was so sure that you and reiner had something between you.."

"n-no! it's not like that." the words spilled out of your mouth before you could even think about them, the desire to answer him overriding any clear thought that might cut through your intoxicated embarrassment, "i'm sure s-soldiers such as him and yourself don't really have time to play around with people l-like me."

you mentally slapped yourself for coming to such a conclusion, let alone allowing it to actually exit your brain and be heard by the most esteemed guest you'd probably ever have the honor of hosting.

"oh?" he peered curiously at you, thumb rubbing a slow stroke over your leg, face seeming much closer than it was a few blinks ago, "and what exactly is that supposed to mean?" you knew just how intentional his word choice was, practically setting up a verbal trap for you to fall into, but how could you not take the bait when it was marley's strongest warrior dangling it before you?

"i-i-i'm sorry, s-sir— zeke!"

you scrambled to correct yourself, looking any place except his face and wanting to do nothing more than hide away somewhere where neither him nor reiner could find you to sober yourself up before you could humiliate yourself any further. but you felt the desperation that was now gripping your pounding heart start to squeeze like a vice around it when a rough hand found your chin, gently turning your head to face him again.

"again with the apologies.. what am i going to do with you?"

your bottom lip quivered, more frantic sorries threatening to spill out, but stopped by the lack of air that you were able to take in from his proximity. you hadn't even realized you were holding your breath until you felt a tight ache seize your chest, exhaling an alarmed breath as you stared up into the glinting grey irises studying your face, mirroring their actions at the tavern but containing all of the hunger he'd been hiding in front of his comrades. the hand of your thigh slid up your leg just an inch, zeke breathing out a chuckle at the feeling of you tensing under his touch.

"if you must know," his face was so close that you could even see the pale freckles dotting across his sharp cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, the shadowed contour of his face looking even deeper in the dim light of the guest room, parted lips exhaling a warm breath that fanned across your face, the scent of alcohol still evident as he slowly spoke, "a soldier such as myself can make plenty of time to play around with someone like you."

you couldn't barely contain your awe, drawing in another shaky, shallow breath at the feeling of his lips brushing across your own, just daring you to indulge in his offer. you could barely form a cohesive thought before your brain forced a new topic into your conscious, confusion and shock and abrupt desire drowning out all the rationality that you were so desperately grasping for in this moment.

you'd just met this man tonight, it didn't matter that you'd known of his grand legacy even from when you were a young girl or felt like you'd gotten to know him quite a bit in that short amount of time, you'd only shaken his hand and drank with him and sat face-to-face with him for the first time just a few hours ago. not to mention how the person you were truly familiar with, the one who wasn't nearly a decade your senior, the one you had really been yearning for was just down the hall in your bed, only two shut doors and a few thin walls away from this spectacle. but, zeke was right in front of you, and he was offering out an opportunity that was impossible to refuse—an offer that you really, really didn't want to refuse.

so you didn't. you gave in to the sinful temptation of his warmth, his skin, his soft touches with calloused, work-roughened hands, the knowledge that this kiss was only just the beginning of something unforgettable.

in contrast to his hands, his lips were soft, ridiculously soft as they pressed over yours, the fingers at your chin unfurling to cup the length of your jaw. you leaned into his touch, earning a pleased grunt from him when your trembling hand found his hair, slowly carding through it as you focused on maintaining the easy rhythm of his kiss. you stifled a small sound when the hand on your leg smoothed up to your inner thigh, not pressing any further, just gently stroking and giving the occasional squeeze to the pliant flesh through your skirt.

you could feel the light flutter in your chest heavy and knot into something familiar, twisting deep in your stomach as he sucked at your bottom lip, nipping at it before his attention wandered across your cheek, the hand at your jaw tilting your head up to expose more of your neck to his eager mouth. faint kisses gave way to teasing bites and licks, drawing a soft whimper as he sucked with the intent to bruise where your shoulder met your neck. he seemed to appreciate the way your grasp in his hair tightened, the hand on your thigh traveling across your waist to find the knotted string holding up your skirt.

the progression of his actions felt natural, but almost too fast at the same time, your hand giving an apprehensive tug to his hair when you felt the waistline of your skirt go slack with the undoing of its lacing. he groaned lowly at the sensation, spurring you to do it again when his teeth grazed over the forming redness just right. you could feel the haze of arousal fogged your mind already, all rationale dissipating under the influence of the alcohol and the hands that were now roaming your body, searching for a moment for the top button of your shirt before they began to messily undo those as well. each brush of his fingers across your bare skin sent goosebumps across the expanse of your chest, making quick work of your blouse as he pushed it over your shoulders, guiding your arms out of the sleeves before tossing it aside in favor of working on the clasp of your bra, never pulling away from his place at your neck for more than a moment before returning the bruising attention of his mouth back over the flushed skin.

you breathed out a weak whimper at the feeling of his thumb and forefinger taking one of your nipples between them, bra forgotten somewhere on the floor with your shirt, baring the entirety of your naked torso to him. he could feel how you squirmed when another hand smoothed down your stomach, slipping beneath your skirt's waistline and settling just between your legs, only a sheer barrier provided by your thin underwear, the arousal threatening to soak through the fabric leaving it clinging to every fold. he hummed appreciatively at the welcome surprise, drawing more stifled sounds out of you when his fingers slowly stroked over your clothed cunt.

"all this just for me?" he murmured lowly in your ear, thumb pressing down on your clit, rubbing slow circles over the sensitive nub.

his touch was electrifying, almost overwhelmingly good as you arched into it, the hand at your breast now groping at the supple flesh, palm offering a much-needed friction over your nipple. you finally registered his teasing question, barely managing a disoriented 'mhm' and a small nod, unable to think of anything else besides your heartbeat pounding loud enough that you though he might be able to hear, and the fingers prodded at you and teasing your body as they pleased.

your half-lidded gaze drifted to the door, blinking away the fogginess when you realized it wasn't actually properly shut. you opened your mouth to try and murmur out your observation, but the words in your head spilled out as an incoherent moan, feeling his mouth detach from your bruised neck before he urged you down onto the mattress. but the sight of him standing above you, tugging off his shirt and revealing the impressively toned physique of his stomach and chest, made you forget the ajar door behind him entirely. your hands moved without a second thought, pushing your skirt and underwear down your legs as far as you could, kicking them the rest of the way off as he began to unbuckle his belt.

you couldn't help the way your eyes widened when he shoved down his pants and underwear in one go, unable to choose between focusing your gaze on the smug smirk drawing across his lips or his achingly hard cock, already looking like more than you could handle even at a distance. he plucked his glasses off his face, setting them on the bedside table before he moved over you in bed, your hands tugging him down into a kiss and earning a low chuckle against your lips.

"eager little thing, aren't you?" he only pulled away for a moment to speak, knuckles dragging down the swell of your breast and curving down your waist. your legs spread in anticipation, back arching off the bed when his fingers finally trailed down between your thighs to smooth a finger down your pussy. "and so, so wet."

you squeaked at the intrusion of two thick fingers pumping into you, sliding in easily with a soft, wet sound. the rhythm of your lips faltered, whimpering as his tongue slid between your teeth, tangling with yours, mouth greedily swallowing every desperate sound you made for him. you were grateful for how he was muffling you, just barely remembering that there was another presence in your house besides you and zeke that you had to worry about, heat sparking up your spine at the feeling of his fingers curling just right inside you.

the thought of reiner finding you in here with the captain of his squad, so pathetically obedient and practically dripping from just his fingers, was horrifying and unnervingly thrilling all at once. would he be angry with you? why would he be? what did he even consider you as?

you couldn't dwell on that thought for too long, hips bucking and toes curling when his thumb rubbed firm circles over your clit, wordlessly begging for more. he seemed to be just as impatient as you were in the face of your desperation, pulling away from your lips and removing his touch from between your legs, rolling himself onto his back and tugging you on top of him in one swift motion. you flush even deeper as you watched him drink in the sight of your naked figure, large hands finding your hips, pupils blown wide enough to nearly swallow up the silvery grey of his irises as he eased you down so his cock was just at your aching cunt, offering a sliver of mercy by allowing you to seat yourself onto him as fast or slow as you'd like.

just the first few inches had you whimpering, hands settling on his chest to steady yourself, teeth worrying the skin of your bottom lip, trying to contain the borderline humiliating sounds that were making him grin so smugly up at you. you could feel tears pricking your eyes by the time you finally sank all the way down, deep, shaky breaths giving away your lack of composure even more so than the way the thighs on either side of him tremble, or the nails now digging into the toned muscles of his shoulders. he gave you just a moment of respite, letting you get used to the feeling of something so big before his grip on your hips fastened, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he began to guide you up and down on his cock.

the low groan your motion earned from him was enough to make your already pounding heart race even faster, heat echoing through you in a way that made it impossible to silence the heated whines that were spilling out of you. the bed squeaked in protest beneath you, but you could care less as you quickened the pace he'd started you at all on your own, admiring the flush that had darkened over his handsome features and the parted lips breathing out low curses and appraising groans.

his eyes fell shut, head falling back before he forced it back up, gaze wandering across your face, then your body, then flitting elsewhere for the briefest moment before they returned to you, hips now thrusting up with even more vigor to meet your own. you moaned openly, struggling out a meaningless string of pleas, the ache beginning to burn in your legs drowned out when he reached out to rub tight, fast circles around your clit. he was grinning now, licking his lips before he spoke in a knowing slur, "you're gonna cum soon, aren't you?"

"yes, f-fuck yes..!" it took you a moment to find your words, embarrassed by how fast he'd managed to work you up to this point but unable to be dishonest in your current position.

his motions didn't falter in the slightest, only seeming to grow more and more urgent as you quivered and whined, bouncing yourself up and down on his cock like it was the last time you'll ever get the chance to do it. and while that's likely the case, you don't care to think about it, too wrapped up in the way you could feel that pressure that had been welling in your stomach finally reach a breaking point, stammered curses devolving into breathless cries as you came hard around him.

you could feel the movement of his hips slow significantly, still rocking up into you to let you ride out your high but not nearly enough for him to push himself over the edge along with you. but you're grateful for his mercy, knowing that if he'd continued at the pace he was going you probably wouldn't be able to walk the next morning. so you took it as a testament to his goodwill, falling forward onto his chest in a whimpering heap, trying to steady your breathing and calm your heart rate, remaining seated on his still hard cock.

you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, the other resting across your shoulder so he could settle his hand on the back of your head, fingers working their way into your hair and gently carding through it. the attention was comforting, unexpected but definitely comforting as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck, still too hazy off of your post-orgasm bliss to have any shame about wanting to be close to his warmth. you didn't think about whether he was expecting you to get him off at some point, or if he was just content letting you rest on top of him like this, but you soon found that he had a much different answer—or rather, a question—that didn't at all take you into consideration.

"so, reiner, are you just going to stand there and watch all night?"

there was confusion for a brief moment, then a horrifying realization that made an ice-cold fear prick under your spine, blood draining from your face as you felt the fine hairs on the back of your neck raise, completely frozen at the knowledge that the worst of the night you had imagined had come true. zeke's hand didn't stop its slow petting across your head, arm fastening around your body, seemingly in preparation for you to start squirming or fighting to get away. but you couldn't move an inch, not even enough to turn your head and risk a glance at your friend who was apparently right at the door.

"well?" his voice rumbled low in his chest once more, dripping with arrogance, entirely absent of any shame, just tempting him to step past the unseen boundary that had kept him there for however long he'd been watching, "i know, i know, you haven't your fair share all night. it's just so, sohard to let go once you finally get your hands on her. you should know all about that feeling, right?"

"fuck you."

you felt a warm curl in your stomach at the sound of his voice, breathing short and fast as your heart skipped anxiously, but mentally almost enjoying the fact that he was feeling something for you, even if it was some sort of possessive envy. the sound of his heavy, uneven footsteps making their way towards the bed.

he clearly still sounded drunk—who wouldn't be after so many beers in one sitting—and that was probably why he didn't hesitate at all to start tugging his clothes off, the ruffle of fabric and clinking metal of a belt being unbuckled finally snapping out of your compliant state, shaky arms trying to push yourself in bed. zeke allowed you to sit up, hands dropping to your thighs as your foggy gaze wandered from his face over to reiner at the bedside, heartbeat nearly drowning out the other sounds in the room as it drummed loudly in your ears.

"you don't mind, do you?" zeke called your attention back to him, gently stroking up and down your thigh just as he had been when you'd first accepted his offer.

your mouth had gone dry, leaving you struggling to get enough saliva back for your tongue not to stick to the roof of your mouth, feeling the heat of arousal flickering back to life when his cock twitched inside of you. did you mind? well you definitely minded the humiliation, the anxiety taut within your chest that made each breath an effort, the fact that you had no idea what was going on or would happen next. but did you mind enough to force yourself off of him, to struggle to collect your clothes from the ground and stagger out of the room with shaky legs that you weren't sure were capable of doing even that right now? did you really want this?

but it seemed that the choice had already been made in both of their minds, your answer—or lack thereof— speaking for your choice in the matter as zeke's hands lifted you up off of his lap, enough for him to slip out from under you. the sudden emptiness after being so full made you whimper, falling back down onto your calves in the middle of the bed and staring down at zeke's cock, slick with your arousal and still aching to be tended to.

the sinking weight of reiner clambering onto the bed behind you made you exhale a shaky breath, still in disbelief as his hand settled on your cheek, turning your head to face over his shoulder to press his lips onto yours. his kiss was messy but familiar, his low moan making you shiver alongside the feeling of zeke's stare wandering across the display before him. your exchange didn't last long before he pulled away, gazing at you with an unreadable look in his golden eyes for a moment, hand moving to the back of your head to push you down onto your hands and knees.

you obediently complied, met with the sight of zeke's cock once more, peering up to meet his gaze, features showing a mixture of eager expectancy and relaxed pride, just knowing that you were willing to do whatever he asked of you. and he relished in the changes your expressions went through in the next few seconds, the way your eyes widened when reiner's hands grasped your soft hips, how you swallowed thickly to try and get enough saliva down your tongue to get your mouth ready, and finally your mouth falling open and face twisting when reiner eased himself entirely into you in one solid thrust, finding little resistance from how soaked you were. you whimpered out a shaky curse, fists bunching up the sheets under you as he picked up a steady rhythm from behind you, zeke's fingers tangling into your hair and guiding onto your parted lips onto his awaiting cock.

he groaned out at the wet heat of your mouth engulfing him, tongue laving up over the underside of his length as you did your best to take as much of him in as possible without gagging. you wanted to be ashamed of how much you were enjoying the feeling of being entirely overwhelming, fuller than you'd ever felt in your entire life, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said that you'd made a mistake by giving in to the lustful temptations. you could feel your eyes water as zeke hit the back of your throat, your teary gaze and muffled moans against him only seeming to enthrall him further. reiner's hands felt up your waist, one reaching down your front to pinch and roll a nipple between his fingers, driving more stifled sounds and shaky breaths through your nose out of you.

you felt yourself squeezing around his cock, earning yourself a few low, muttered curses as he began to pound even faster into you, evidently approaching his limit just as fast as you are. the hand in your hair was guiding you up and down on the cock in your mouth, the tip of your nose just brushing zeke's stomach each time you surged forward with the momentum of the thrusts from behind you. it was all far too much in the best way possible, vision going hazy at the edges from the lack of proper air you could get into your lungs, insides aching from overusing alongside the tight knotting deep in your gut that was threatening to send you over the edge.

it was zeke that came first, heat pooling over your tongue and spilling down your throat, nearly too much for you to swallow as you tried not to choke. but he kept himself in your mouth and his hand firmly grasping your hair, if not to feel the hum of your desperate whines across your skin then to admire your pathetic expression, half-lidded eyes barely able to hold themselves open enough to stare back at him as you came hard for the second time that night. you could hear reiner give a generous groan of your name, thrusting as deep as he could go just a few times more, having enough sense to not cum inside you, pulling out and making a sticky mess of your trembling thighs.

only after you'd blinked away the glossiness in your eyes did zeke pull himself out of your mouth with a wet pop, holding your head up to appreciate the way your mouth still hung open to gasp in much needed gulps of air, tears and saliva dripping down your chin, halfhearted whimpers still escaping you as you trembled.

"you have good taste, reiner." zeke said, releasing your hair and letting you rest your cheek down against the mattress under you, grabbing his glasses off the side table and putting them back onto his face.

you watched as he stepped off the bed, picking out his clothes from the messy array of garments strewn about on the floor and tugging them on. he fished a handkerchief out of the the pocket of his pants, tossing it at reiner's side and glancing over your body, offering you a lazy smile when he caught your gaze.

"clean her up," he instructed, reaching out to give one last soft touch down your back, "and don't give her anymore trouble, alright? i expect to see you bright and early tomorrow."

you assumed that reiner nodded, since zeke turned without another word and exited the bedroom, making sure to shut the door behind him. for a moment, there was uneasy silence, only occupied by your breaths and the faint sound of zeke pulling on his boots somewhere in the living room and leaving out the front door. you gave a low hiss at the feeling of the fabric smoothing down the backs of your thighs, skin far too sensitive for your liking and legs aching uncomfortably.

you lifted your head up enough to wipe your chin with the back of your hand, eyes and limbs heavy with the desire to sleep. there were no words exchanged as he helped you move to lay down on your back, his face just as tired as he'd looked at the bar, but there was something else weighing down his expression as you took his face in your hands, staring up at him with a soft look of concern.

and though he still said nothing, he kissed you, so much gentler than he'd ever kissed you, with a tenderness that made you want savor this brief moment for as long as you could. but he eventually pulled away, and the brief worry that he might leave just as his captain had minutes before, but he rested down beside you with a low sigh. he didn't protest when you curled into the warmth of his body, head finding a comfortable place on his chest, not even bothering to try and venture out onto the floor to turn off the lamp before you settled down and let your eyes fall shut.

it was easy to fall asleep after he wrapped his arms around you, firm chest rising and falling with steady breaths, heart slow in your ear. you didn't think about the fact that you'd probably wake up alone in the morning, or that walking properly would be a monumental task on its own without even considering going to work to stay on your feet for the entire day—just appreciated this night while he couldn't slip away from you like all the other times before.

[bijackkellys]

thunderstruck ; part three

safe haven.

Fandom: Newsies (All Media Types) Relationships: Jack Kelly/David Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer Word Count: 4,352 Dedications: a huge huge shoutout to my beta and gf @mistyw273 without whom this fic would not exist! tag list (if you’d like to be added to this list just send me an ask or dm!): @dimenovelcowboy​ @santa-fe-maniac @pulitzers-world @yo-let-me-get-a-milkyway @verified-dumbass @jewishdavidjacobs @agentsnickers @thetruthabouttheboy @the-games-changing Author’s Note: yes i know what i said and i'm aware that it's been WEEKS since i posted and i have absolutely nothing to say for myself. except that i'm the worst. and also that i'm going to stop making promises and tell you guys straight out that i'm probably not going to be any better at updating from this point forward, especially considering i'm working on college apps and sat prep right now. but it's fine! i hope the fact that this chapter is only like 10 words less than all the other chapters so far put together sort of makes up for it? but i kind of hate this part; i have a ton of exposition to get through so i'm really really sorry if it sucks and you've waited this long for like 4.3k of bullshit. i'm also sorry that i still haven't introduced kath—she will get here in the next chapter and she will play no small role in this fic, i promise!! we've just got a lot to get through leading up to that. anyway, thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed so far, and if you're still here despite my questionable reliability (or lack thereof) i love you, personally. tws for this chapter includes a minor panic attack, mentions of vomiting but it's pretty brief, and that's about it.

read it on ao3

MEDDA IS SINGING when they get to her apartment. 

Even through the closed door, Jack can hear her voice lilting down the corridor, a bittersweet melody that he can’t quite remember but loves all the same. It makes him falter, makes his throat close up as warmth and the ache of missing her spread through his chest in time with each other. He doesn’t know what she’ll say when she sees him, and the thought of her viewing him as a killer nearly makes his knees buckle. Distantly he thinks that it doesn’t matter what the world has been told as long as she believes him.

“Is this it?” the older boy says behind him, gesturing to the door that Jack is staring at. He’d mostly been quiet the whole walk here, but now he’s looking at Jack expectantly.

Jack nods and pushes back the tide of emotions swelling in his chest. If he waits any longer he might never be able to do this. He knocks twice on the door, and her singing cuts off abruptly; he hears her voice saying “Coming!” and then the lock clicking as the door swings open.

“Hi, Miss Medda,” Jack says hoarsely. 

She stares at him. For this brief, terrible moment, he thinks she’s going to turn him away, and then she’s crying and oh, she pulls him into a hug. Something he’s been trying to hold back since he found himself running in the streets hours ago spills forth. In her arms he can’t stop the tears; he feels suddenly twelve years old again, scared and small but not alone, not anymore.

“You’re alive,” she’s saying, over and over, like a mantra. “Oh, baby, you’re really here.”

Jack clings to her tightly. “I didn’t do it,” he breathes, desperate for her to know as she runs a hand through his hair. “The fire—that wasn’t me.”

“I didn’t believe them for one second.” Medda pulls him back at arm’s length. “But where have you been?”

He winces, looks away. “The Refuge. I just escaped.” Her mouth opens again but he shakes his head slightly and she nods, understanding immediately. 

“It’s okay, sweetie. We’ll talk later,” she says, and cups his cheek with a gentle hand. He leans into it, starved of positive contact like this for so long. “Jack Kelly,” she says warmly, her eyes shining—he’s gotten so used to hearing his name spit at him like a curse—“I thought I’d never see you again.” She huffs a laugh and smiles at him, wiping at his eyes with her thumb. “Don’t you ever disappear on me like that again, you understand?”

He gives a watery chuckle, maybe his first in months. “I’ll do my best, Miss Medda.”

She pulls him into another hug, squeezing his shoulders tightly, before her eyes come to rest on the two boys still standing awkwardly in the hallway. “And who are your new friends?” she asks.

“Oh, this is—” Jack breaks off, realizing abruptly that they had never gotten to introductions. The younger of the two steps forward and puffs his chest out.  

“I’m Les, and this is my brother, David,” he says brightly. He’s been solemn since Jack met him, no doubt jarred by his experience with the Snatchers, but Medda’s warmth is notoriously infectious. Even the kid’s older brother—Davey—cracks a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says politely, and Medda beams and waves a hand.

“None of that. It’s Miss Medda to you, darling. Come on in,” She steps out of the doorway and gestures inside, placing a gentle hand on the small of Jack’s back as she ushers him in. He’s grateful for it, a grounding presence that reminds him he’s really here in front of her. “Stay as long as you like, boys.”

In the last few hours alone, Jack has felt like he’s been thrust into an entirely different world. Entering Medda’s apartment is a burst of shining familiarity; there’s the elegant wooden piano in the corner, the blooming plants lining the windowsills, the photos of the theater and the paintings Jack has done over the years hanging on the walls. The faint smell of cinnamon in the air. He may never have lived here, but it feels like coming home all the same.

“I’ve still got the clothes you’ve left here, if you want to change,” Medda tells him. “I’ll get something going for us to eat—how does Sancocho sound? I don’t have any plantains, and now I know it’s not quite the same without them—”

“That sounds incredible, Miss Medda,” Jack says, his mouth already watering. For as long as he’s known her, Medda has always made it a point to give him and the other boys a taste of home however she can manage. She’d tested recipes for Sancocho for months until she’d perfected the warm, rich stew that always drew up distant memories of Jack’s mother. 

Medda smiles at him and bustles into the kitchen, pulling vegetables from the fridge. “David, Les, is there anything you two don’t eat?” she calls to them.

“Oh, we keep Kosher, so no pork, shellfish, or meat and dairy together? And Les can’t have peanuts. Sorry,” Davey responds quickly.

“No worries, darling, this recipe doesn’t call for any of that anyway. Dinner will be ready in a couple of hours—Jack, why don’t you go clean up and get some rest? You look exhausted, baby.”

It’s one of those things he doesn’t fully realize until she points out, and then it hits him full-force; he thinks his legs will give with the impact of it. He’s tired and starved and wants absolutely nothing more than to take a hot shower and eat and sleep through the next day—and in truth the only thing holding him back is the still-stinging bite of the cuffs around his wrists. 

“Uh, Miss Medda—you got a screwdriver somewhere around here?” he asks tentatively, rubbing at the skin underneath them.

Her gaze drifts to his hands and she winces in sympathy. “In the office down the hall. There’s a toolkit on the shelf—you need some help, Jack?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’ve got it,” he says as he heads into the room.

It turns out to be harder than he expected. He spends a good ten minutes hacking at the cuffs with a screwdriver, but all he really succeeds in doing is scraping his wrists raw. He’s getting desperate, though—the longer he’s stripped of his powers, the less he feels like himself, and the silver steel is nothing but a jolting reminder of everything that’s happened. He needs to find a way to get these stupid things off. 

“It doesn’t look like you’ve got it.”

Jack’s head snaps up to see Davey standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. His expression is hard to read, half-concerned but laced with something else, and he’s sort of tentative as he steps into the room and kneels down beside Jack. “Here, let me.” He holds his hand out for the screwdriver. 

Jack gives it to him and splays his hands out in between them. Davey switches out the head of the tool for a tiny flathead and gets to work on the right cuff, astonishingly careful. His slender, practiced fingers pry open a tiny panel on the side of the cuff, exposing the circuit board underneath.

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” Jack notes.

Davey pauses his movement for a split second and then continues without looking up. “I was captain of my high school robotics team for two years,” he responds. “And I’m an engineering major.”

Jack clings to this small piece of information; it’s the first thing he’s learned about Davey since they met, and he’s already desperate for more. “Where do you go?” he asks. At this, Davey tenses up, and Jack bites back a wince. “I’m not trying to interrogate you,” he says flatly, after a moment. “Guess I just...thought you’d changed your mind about me.”

Davey’s dark eyes latch on to Jack’s for just a moment before darting away. “I don’t know yet,” he answers finally. He prods at the wires of the cuff; there’s this crinkle in his brow that Jack can’t help but think is sort of endearing. “Miss Medda seems like a really good person,” he continues, still barely looking at Jack. “And she clearly loves you a lot. It’s possible you could be lying to her, too, but the way you were when you saw her—no one’s that good of an actor.”

“So what’s your holdup?”

“I’m not sure what to believe.” Davey twists the screwdriver and bites his lip, then meets Jack’s gaze at last. “After you—after the hospital burned down, the whole city was in chaos. No one knew what to think or who to blame—the police revealed that the sprinkler line had been damaged, and that some of the exits had been sealed, and that the fire started because the power box had been tampered with.”

Jack’s stomach twists. “I don’t understand...you—you’re saying it wasn’t an accident?”

“I think if it had been, it would’ve been contained a lot faster,” Davey says darkly. “It hadn’t even been a week before The World published a full story about how it was Strike’s doing. Jack, there were witness statements, sources explaining how your powers could’ve caused this—”

“I was trying to save people,”

“A lot of people thought you had done it by accident. Or that you’d...snapped, or something.”

“I nearly died in that fire.” He isn’t entirely sure he hadn’t, to be honest. Everything since then is blurry and out of place, and he feels like he’s been set right back to grappling desperately for a handhold, like he’s in the center of an inferno all over again—

There’s a click of metal on metal and the cuff on his right hand clatters to the floor. 

“Got it,” Davey says, and suddenly Jack can breathe again. Even with the cuff still circling his left hand, he feels electricity surge through him, that familiar hum of lightning beneath his skin. A part of him he hasn’t felt in so, so long. 

Sparks dance over his fingertips, and the air fills with static. He can see the hairs on Davey’s arms standing on end and despite everything, fights the urge to laugh. Davey looks at him, eyes wide with amazement, and Jack wonders if he can taste the power in the air, too. 

“Thanks,” Jack says, breathless as he runs his hand over the torn skin of his wrist. 

Davey nods and gently takes his left hand, starting the process again and evidently more sure of what he’s doing now. “Jack,” he begins, but whatever he’s going to say next, Jack doesn’t let him finish.

“Someone set me up,” he says fiercely, trying hard not to sound as desperate for Davey to believe him as he really is. “Whatever evidence and witnesses they had—it was fake.”

“Okay, but why?” Davey presses. “Why go through all this trouble to frame a dead man? How did they get The World to publish a bunch of false information? And if someone really is trying to pin this on you,” there’s a click, and the cuff around Jack’s left hand pings against the ground, “who set the fire in the first place?”

-

Jack can’t remember the last time he’d had a hot shower. Even before the fire—and god, Jack is really about to start categorizing his life events as before and after his death, like that’s not absolutely insane—the lodging house never really had a surplus of hot water, especially with so many of them. Standing under it now, though, everything else melts into the background. There are scars and bruises along his skin that he hadn’t even noted before, but the water is like instant relief; he doesn’t have to think, just lets it wash him clean.

By the time he gets out, the effects of the drugs, which have been weaning away for hours now, seem completely gone. Everything is sharper, like he’s been thrusted into high-definition, his thoughts clearer and his memories—well, his memories becoming more painful by the second.

It’s not easy, trying to push it all back. As he pulls on fresh clothes, Jack stares at himself in the mirror, at the jagged scars raised against his chest and the tiny spots that pockmark his forearms where he remembers needles going in, and tries to reconcile this picture of himself—exhausted and hollowed out and afraid—with the identity he’d spent so long building up from the ground. He doesn’t look like Strike, New York City’s favorite vigilante. He looks like a scared kid.

He doesn’t know what to do. Something bigger than himself is brewing in the city, he knows it, he has to stop it. But he doesn’t know how. People are counting on him and Jack just wants to forget any of this ever happened.

There’s so much noise. Davey’s questions are ringing in his ears and behind them there are voices telling him he’s never, ever going to get out, and he thinks he might be on fire. Everything is too hot and too loud and hurts.

There’s nothing in his stomach to throw up, but he dry heaves over the toilet anyway.

Jack sits back on the cold tile floor and drags his knees up to his chest. He could just go—break out the money he’s been saving and skip town, hop on a bus all the way to Santa Fe. Crutchie could come with him, and he could change his name—again—and start fresh. Never see this place again.

Except there’s an arsonist on the loose in the city. There are Snatchers all over the streets, and maybe Jack wants nothing more than to leave it but New York is still his city, still his place to protect. He can’t just leave.

Jack tilts his head towards the ceiling, biting back the urge to scream. The unsteady silence is broken by a tentative knock at the door, and then Medda’s voice—“Jack, honey,” she says, “Dinner’s ready. You okay in there?”

Slowly, he picks himself off the floor, pulls the loose hoodie hanging on the door on over his clean t-shirt, takes a shuddering breath. “I’ll be right out,” he calls through the door, and glances at his reflection one more time. He can be Strike again. He can do this. 

And even if he can’t, he has to.

-

The Sancocho is perfect, warm and spicy and brimming with the taste of home. By the time he’s inhaled maybe three servings and helped clear the dishes, Jack is so exhausted that he doesn’t even make it to the guest room. He just stumbles towards the couch and collapses there with the sunlight still spilling in through the windows, falling hard and fast into a heavy sleep.

It’s dark when he bolts awake. He feels hot and breathless, his heart racing against his ribcage, and whatever awful memory had invaded his dreams left the sharp taste of metal in his mouth. Sparks flicker across his fingers, blinding blue-white in the darkness, and Jack curls his hands into fists to quell the lightning brimming in his veins. His eyes dart to the clock on the wall; it’s just past one in the morning. He doesn’t think he’ll get back to sleep any time soon.

He maneuvers around the coffee table to stumble blindly towards the kitchen instead. A dim glow catches his eye, then; Davey is sitting at the bar stools, hunched over his laptop.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Jack says, and Davey starts and then swears.

“Jeez, you gave me a heart attack,” he huffs as Jack chuckles lightly and fills a glass with water. “I thought you were still asleep. And...no. You?”

Jack shrugs. “I slept okay, got a few good hours. But I don’t think I can go back to bed. What are you doing?” he asks, nodding towards the open laptop.

Davey hesitates. “Miss Medda let me borrow her computer. I’m trying to contact the rest of my family,” he replies, his gaze flitting between the screen and Jack’s eyes. “When Les and I ran off there were already Snatchers at our house. None of them have powers, though. Just Les.” He works his lip between his teeth. “They said not to contact them in case the Snatchers found some way to trace it back to us, but I set up a separate email account and sent them a vague message, hoping they’ll know it’s me. I just need to know if they’re okay.”

Jack’s chest twists in sympathy. Davey’s family is just one more example of all the lives the Snatchers have torn apart—and Jack is the poster boy for their whole agenda. He has to fix this, for Davey, and for the rest of his city. “You’ll see them again soon, Davey,” he says—yet another promise he can’t afford to break—“I’m gonna make this right, okay?”

“How?” Davey scoffs. “You don’t even know where to start.”

Jack slips his hands into the pockets of his clean hoodie and feels the familiar weight of the flash drive he’d placed there. Actually, he might have some idea. “Can I use the computer?” Jack says, barely waiting for Davey’s nod before taking a seat on the barstool beside him and plugging the flash drive in. 

“What is that?” Davey’s brow furrows.

“Honestly? I’m not sure. I took this from a computer in the Refuge’s control room, hoping I’d find something important. Maybe something here could give us a clue of what’s really going on.” There’s only a handful of files on the drive, and they’re labeled with numbers instead of actual names. Jack opens the first one and feels his heart sink. “Shit. It’s encrypted.”

“Let me try,” Davey says, pulling the laptop towards him and typing furiously. The computer makes a few error noises in protest as he works through the code, but Davey is laser-focused, seems to know exactly what he’s doing. He’s some kind of genius. “Got it,” he announces after a few minutes. Sure enough, the screen flickers, and rows of text begin to replace the numbers and symbols from before.

“That was incredible,” Jack tells him.

Davey shrugs and ducks his head, smiling just a little before turning back to the screen. “They look like email exchanges. Between some guy named Snyder—” Jack feels a cold trickle of shock run through him at that name, “—and...Joseph Pulitzer.”

“Wait, Pulitzer?” Jack leans forward to read over Davey’s shoulder. “As in the CEO of The World?”

“He’s running for mayor in next month’s election,” Davey explains. “It looks like he’s trying to get Snyder’s support? He’s promising money to fund the Refuge. But why would—shit.” There’s something dawning on his expression as he looks up at Jack, eyes blown wide. “Jack, a lot of his campaign has relied on anti-super propaganda. And...The World was the one who first published the story about you setting the fire.”

The realization crashes into him, hard and fast. “He’s the one who framed me.” Jack feels a hot rush of anger surge through him. “For what, a political platform? So that he could give the people a common enemy? Holy shit, did he set that fire for this...twisted agenda?” 

“I can’t believe this,” Davey shakes his head, leaning back in his chair and tugging his hands through his dark hair, shell-shocked. “How could he do something like this?”

How could he?

“I’m going to kill him,” Jack says fiercely, and the lights above him flicker. He stands up, feeling wild, brimming with untamed fury—innocent people died for Pulitzer’s insane power grab, and he has to pay for that. He can’t get away with this, he won’t; Jack can’t find it in himself to mitigate his anger right now, he needs to find Pulitzer and fix this.

“Jack—Jack!” Davey’s hand latches around his wrist and a shock like static electricity bursts between them, making him pull back. “Wait. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“What, you just want me to let him walk? He killed people, Davey. Innocent people.”

“You don’t actually know that yet.”

“I know enough,” Jack snaps, pulling back. “This can’t all be a coincidence, it makes too much sense. He has to be behind this, behind everything.”

“I’m not arguing that.” Davey is astonishingly calm; Jack doesn’t know how he can keep his resolve right now, after finding out something this sick. “But what are you going to do, break into his house and murder him? What is that going to solve? Things are only gonna get worse for supers.”

Jack hesitates. Davey is right—a personal attack on one of the most influential people in New York would make him even more of a villain than he already is. And every super in the city would suffer from it. He can’t make this some sort of revenge plot; he has to be smart about it. He takes a shuddering breath. “Then I’ll expose him. These emails—”

“—aren’t enough. All you have from this is a theory. Pulitzer would just find a way to spin it, make you look like the bad guy here. Again.” He shakes his head. “He holds all the cards right now. We have to find hard, indisputable evidence. What we need is a way to get close to him.”

“We?” Out of everything, that’s the word Jack gets hung up on. Davey’s making it sound as though they’re partners. 

Davey looks at him for a second. “I believe you, Jack,” he says finally. “I’m sorry I didn’t before. I don’t think you set that fire, and if we’re right, and Pulitzer did frame you, and we can find proof...we might be able to stop everything. Shut down the Refuge for good.”

“No, no—I’m not dragging you into this any further than I already have,” Jack stops him before he can go any further. His whole time as Strike, he’s been a solo act for a reason—not for lack of Race or Specs or Elmer trying to get him to let them join him—but because he can’t bring himself to pull someone else into this life. Especially not someone like Davey, who’s an engineering student, and a genius, and has a family. He’s got his whole life ahead of him. “I appreciate everything you’ve done to help me so far, I really do, but I can take it from here. You and your brother just lay low and stay out of trouble.”

“You can’t do this by yourself,” Davey argues. There’s something hardening behind his eyes, something bright and sharp and determined. “I’ve already shown you what I can do, so let me help you.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

He snorts, defensive. “I can handle it.”

“You think so?” Jack stares him down, skin buzzing. “I almost died because of this, and I may not remember everything about the Refuge, but I can tell you that it wasn’t pretty. If we try to take Pulitzer, there’s a good chance we don’t make it out alive.”

Davey doesn’t break his gaze. “But if we do it together, we double our odds,” he says quietly. When Jack snorts and turns away, Davey keeps going. “This is so much bigger than you or me, Jack. If we can pull this off, we could make New York safe for supers again. I promised that I would protect Les, but I can’t do that as long as there are Snatchers roaming the streets and as long as Pulitzer has power. And you can’t protect this city if you’re dead.” 

Jack wishes he didn’t have a point. “You could get hurt,” he counters. “You don’t even have powers.”

“You’ll protect me,” Davey replies swiftly, and something in Jack’s stomach twists.

“You have an awful lot of faith for someone who didn’t trust me an hour ago,” he says grimly, eyes darting away from Davey’s fierce ones.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Davey presses, unrelenting, and god, the offer is tempting. Davey clearly knows his way around his computers and technology, a skill that could be really helpful here, and more than that, Jack stupidly, selfishly doesn’t want to do this by himself. He wants a partner. He’s tired of being alone, and he hates himself for it. 

“We do this on my terms,” Jack says finally, and in the corner of his eye, he can see Davey smiling. “I say get out, you get out. You’ve got to be smart about this. Got it?”

“Understood,” Davey nods. “I’ll be okay, Jack. I promise. So where do we start?”

“It’s like you said, we have to get close to Pulitzer.” Jack sits back down, racks his brain for anything that could help. Pulitzer is a private person, watching the rest of the city from high off the ground; getting close to him would require someone who already knows him well. He can practically see the lightbulb over his head when it hits him—he knows the perfect candidate. He just hopes she’ll be willing to join them.

“I know someone who might be able to help,” Jack says, already drafting an email—coded words like the two of them used to use when he was just starting out as Strike. “She interned as Pulitzer’s personal assistant for a while when she was in high school, but the last time I saw her she was a journalism student, working for The Sun. She may not work for him anymore, but she knew Pulitzer as well as anyone.” Jack takes a deep breath and pleads silently that she’ll believe him, then sends the message. 

“And you think she’ll know what to do?” Davey asks.

“I’m sure of it.” Jack has always had faith in her; he knows she’ll come through, will fight for what she believes in. “If cards are what we’re playing,” he tells Davey, suddenly brimming with a newfound sense of determination, “then Katherine Plumber is our ace.”