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littlemissmiller · 7 months ago

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Bad Press (part 2)

Pairing: dark!toxic!coriolanus snow x fem!reader, slight sejanus x fem!reader

Summary: (au) after avoiding getting caught cheating in the games, a hopeful presidential candidate snow is fed up with your slanderous reporting, so he decides put you in your place

Warning: 21+ (drinking), smut, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, p in v, use of degeneration (whore, slut) blackmail, threats, dom!snow, sub!reader, slight jealousy, slight misogyny, obsession, power imbalance, porn with a plot

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: hello! happy sunday! i’m so excited and nervous for you guys to read part two but here it is! i had so much fun writing this and have some fun ideas for future coyro fics soooo stay tuned! also stay tuned for future projects with other fandoms that I’m excited to share ♡ enjoy :) also if you missed it check out part 1

You enter the golden elevator in the lobby of his building and ride it with him to the top floor. The entire time, his hand stays close to your waist, ghosting over the small of your back. It dings after several moments.

“After you my dear.” Snow smiles, pushing you forward slightly. You admire the luxury of his home. The ceilings are tall and intimidating. It makes you feel small and the wide windows surrounding the main living room make you feel vulnerable. You walk over to the center of his living room, next to his two black leather couches, and he walks past you to the mini bar, just off to the side of the living room. He pours himself a glass of whiskey, plopping a square ice cube in.

“I said I’m not drinking” you remind him “What happened to tea?” You ask

“I know. I spoke for yourself not me.”

You huff, stand up and cross your arms.

“Well I’m not going to look like a fool and not drink when you do.”

“Be my guest.” He smirks and you roll your eyes

“Ok you got me here. What do you want to clear the record on?” You ask, taking a glass of whiskey from him.

“I just think if you got to know me then you’d be less bias in your reporting.”

“Less bias…” you mutter, chuckling under your breath, taking a sip of whiskey. It burns your throat and you try to keep your face neutral, but truth be told you didn’t drink alcohol with such a strong taste. He walks up to you, his tall frame backing you into the couch slightly until, your knees hit the back and you unexpectedly sit down. He continues to stand over you for a moment, then he smirks and sits on the couch opposite of you. He spreads his legs, resting his elbow on one with his drink in hand. He leans forward slightly, studying you. He cocks his head to the side, a small smile creeping on the side of his lips.

You tentatively sip your drink, then set it down on the table. You reach inside your bag for a pen and notepad.

“So, you were hoping for an interview.” He smirks

“Not necessarily with you. I always stay prepared.”

“That’s good. I like a girl who is ready like that. Dedicated.”

Your stomach swarms with butterflies, a slow heat creeps up your body that seems to becoming from in between your thighs. You try to contain it, slowly closing your legs together.

“So…” you roll your eyes “What would you like the people of Panem to know about you?”

Coriolanus smiles and takes a beat before answering.

“What a generic question”

“You said you wanted this interview Snow.” You glare at him

“I do, but I know you’re a better journalist than that.”

You scoff and roll your eyes

“Fine. How does it make you feel to know that the Snow legacy will be effectively over after this election cycle?”

He chuckles at you, making you feel small and uncomfortable.

“You’re cute when you’re trying to be tough. Easier to do when it’s behind newsprint hmm.”

“I-I mean every word I write a-a-and you know y-you’re not doing yourself any favors acting like this either.” You say, the words coming out less confident then you would have liked

“You know what…that’s fair. I’ll play nice for you…” he stands up, striding toward you. Coriolanus stands in front of you, towering over you. He bends down, placing one hand on your knee and the other pinches your chin.

“W-what are you doing Snow?”

“What do you mean? You want me to be nice. Maybe show you a side of me that Panem doesn’t know about. Right?” He states, placing a delicate kiss to your cheek.

You gasp. He trails his hand across your cheek, cupping your jaw and tangling his fingers through your hair. His icy blue eyes peer into your soul as he gives you a wicked grin. He leans in to begin to kiss and nibble at your ear and jawline. You can’t help but to relax slightly, tilting your head back and closing your eyes.

“I can be sweet you know. Romantic even. People think a lot of things about me and I tailor the conversations to be that way.”

You temper your breathing, trying not to seem so scared, but the feeling in between your thighs seems to be naturally overtaking you.

“And you?” He snickers “You have your own little agenda don’t you girl.” He kisses your neck, wrapping his hand gently at the base of your jaw.

“I thought you said there would be no games.”

“Yeah and you told me the same thing at the gala, yet here we both are. We both know that’s been a lie anyways. I think we should promise not to lie to each other anymore. What do you say?” He growls

“Fine.” you huff

“Good girl…” he presses one last kiss delicately on the corner on your lips, squeezing your cheeks. You instinctively turn to meet his mouth, but he pulls back, forcing your face to stare directly at his own. He clicks his tongue at you.

“No no sweetheart. Not yet. But you know what… you just confirmed something for me.”

“No…” you breathe“w-what are you talking about.”

“Mmm…Maybe I should ask you if there’s anything the people of Panem should know about you?”

You scoff nervously, trying to make it seem like you’re laughing at him, hiding the mountain of fear you feel.

“You’re not the one giving an interview here. I am! Wh-what are you even talking about Snow!” Your eyes shoot open and his blue ones stare back at you.

“Hmm seems like Sejanus didn’t please you well enough then. You’re still so worked up aren’t you. He’s not really man enough is he?”

You freeze. Eyes widening and mouth going slightly agape and all Coriolanus can do is smirk at your dumb, pretty, pathetic, little face.

“Yeah.” He scoffs “Sejanus ran his mouth. C’mon princess you know how guys like to brag right? Could you imagine if my tongue slipped like that.” He whispers, emphasizing the syllables in slipped.

“If the papers knew you slept with him, then wrote that article, and bashed me in the same publication, seemingly to make him look better in comparison….” He continues “you could loose your job…” his hands squeezes your neck a little tighter

“You wouldn’t.” You spat

“Oh the tabloids would eat it up. Tell me what headline would you make for such a scandal hmm? Go on tell me clever girl. I know you like to write flashy attention getters.” Coriolanus whispers, growling the word attention deep into your ear.

“Stop. Please. I-I was just using him” you admit

“Oh yeah? Tell me more.”

“Just using him…t-to get to you..” you breathe

“Ah there you go. That’s what I thought. Now tell me…” he hisses “why do you want my attention so badly?

You whimper and sink into the couch slightly as his hot breath fans your face, prying for a response. His clenched hand under your jaw pulls you back closer to him.

“Does someone have a little crush on their future president? Hmm? Hoping they would be the one to be made First Lady? What were you hoping for?

“I was hoping maybe he would introduce you to me. Because I-I…” You whimper again

“Say it sweetheart. Say you want me.”

“A-are you going t-to tell my boss what happened between me and Sejanus? Leak it to the press?”

“I won’t. But at a cost? No more bad articles. No more bad press.”

You contemplate his offer for a second, hesitant to say yes, but you agree.

“Now say it.” He demands

“I want you”

He finally kisses you. His soft lips land harshly against your own. All the anger that he harbored towards you comes through passionately and forcefully with his kiss. He doesn’t let up, practically consuming you with his mouth. Then all too soon, he pulls away. You whine at the loss of him.

“So predictable.” He smirks. Coriolanus throws a devilish smile your way, stands up, and begins to unbuckle his belt.

“You want my attention? Show me how much you want me then.”

Fuck this is happening. Your plan works better than expected. Frankly, Coriolanus didn’t care if you had trapped him, he now had you trapped, because Snow always lands on top. He begins to trace the pad of his thumb across your lips, causing you to quiver. You look up at him, fear blazing in your eyes. He simply nods, as you paw at his trousers, sliding them down. You watch intensely as his bulge slowly appears from behind his pants. You gasp, looking up at him for what he wants you to do next.

“Go on. Make me feel good.“

You do as you’re told, placing gentle pecks against his boxers. You clutch onto his hips as he tangles his fingers in your hair, pushing you further into his crotch. He tilts his head back, groaning in pleasure. You pull his boxers down, immediately going in to trail kisses up his shaft. You take his member in your hand, stroking it slowly. His blue eyes, now clouded with lust, looks down at you, mouth agape slightly. Coriolanus knows he holds all the power in the moment, but can’t help but whimper slightly as your soft, wet lips wrap around the tip of his cock. You tease him, sucking on just the tip, but Coriolanus finds the back of your head, pushing you forward slowly. You gag slightly, which makes Coriolanus sigh in amusement. He starts to rock his hips, holding the back of your head, watching you take him so perfectly in your mouth. He moves his hand cups underneath your face, thumb stroking your cheek, admiring how pretty your eyes look all big, round, and totally focused on him. He pulls out, causing you to gasp. He lets out a small, sinister chuckle.

“Good girl. God you’re good at that.”

You lean forward to put him back in your mouth but he stops, shaking his head, holding your chin in between his fingers.

“So eager. But I know you want more.” He says, stuffing his cock back into his boxers and pants. He holds a hand out to you and you take it. He pulls you up, guiding you to his bedroom upstairs.

Once there, he closes the door, locking it. He gestures for you to sit on his bed and you do. He walks towards you, unbuttoning his cuffs. You take a moment to sink in his well manicured room. His bedsheets, a pure white, with black and gold accent trims lay flat on the mattress in an elaborate black wooden bed frame. You lay back in anticipation, taking in the soft, plush sheets that were about to be an absolute mess. As he approaches, Coriolanus finishes unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, tossing it off. Even though he’s still relatively thin, his body is toned, and you suddenly can’t stop looking at him. He stays silent as he towers over you slowly. You raise your hands up to his bare chest, admiring him, taking note of his small, individual, freckles and the happy trail leading into his pants. You catch yourself panting and feel the heat in between your legs becoming noticeable. You need to be touched.

He pulls the top of your dress down, exposing your breasts to him. He admires them, pinching and groping them, causing you to mewl. Next, he carefully bends down sneaking his hands down to your thighs, and pushing the fabric up to your hips. Coriolanus pushes you on your back, then hooks his thumbs around the waistline of your panties and slides them down, all the while kissing your pelvis, then your hip and down your thighs. You buck your hips up in response, wanting more. Coriolanus coos at you when you’re finally exposed to him, slowly lowering himself to his knees.

“Just what I thought. So needy for me.” He smirks, pressing his fingers against your core. He leans forward, slowly rubbing your clit, enchanting you.

“Tell me…did Sejanus make you this wet? This sensitive? I’ve barely touched you and you’re practically drenched.” He asks.

All you can do is simply shake your head, letting out a breathy moan in an attempt to speak. He can’t help but continue smirking at you, satisfied with the power he holds over you. However, he’s unsatisfied with your lack of response. Coriolanus slaps your pussy.

“I asked you a question…”

“No…he didn’t”

“Good.”

With that, he dives in, mouthing at your core. Coriolanus starts soft, his lips ghosting over your clit. He looks up at you, grinning against you as your needy eyes stare back into his. His mouth feel so wet and warm, you can’t help but rake your fingers through his blonde locks. You remember when he still had his curls and envy not being able to comb your hands through them, but his new, sleek look, gave him an edge that made him look dangerously handsome. Regardless you still think he looks gorgeous in between your thighs. He laps you up, relishing in how good you taste. You toss your head back, losing yourself in the enjoyment and feeling of his tongue. Coriolanus pats the side of your thigh, pulling away momentarily.

“Look at me, darling. Focus up.”

You nod and he raises an eyebrow, looking for a verbal reply.

“Yes, sorry” you agree, doing your best to keep your head up.

“You answer me when I ask you a question got it. Don’t forget manners now.” He mocks

He dives back in, this time wasting no time tasting you. His mouth envelopes your clit, eyes occasionally glancing at you to make sure you’re still watching him and you’re enjoying the pleasure he is giving you. You’re moans and whines sound slightly pathetic to your own ears, but Coriolanus simply drinks it all in, marveling in how you’re beginning to come undone. He gives your clit several deliberate licks, before drawing it in between his lips and sucking hard. You cry out at his actions, and he moans against you as you do. You buck your hips, and he clutches the hem of your dress to keep you down, pressing your core further into his face. He adds a finger, then a second. You clench down around him, feeling yourself getting closer and closer. Just as you’re about to finish he pulls back. You whine at the loss, squeezing your thighs together to make up for it.

He starts to undo his pants again, hastily pulling them down, whipping out his cock. He strokes it lazily, mouth agape as he admires your soaking pussy, thanks to him. He pulls the rest of your dress down, leaving you bare in front of him. Your breathing becomes laborious, anticipation creeping up your body as you lay eyes on his beautiful cock again. Your eyes are locked on it and Coriolanus takes notice at your gaze, smirking to himself again over the way he is able to mesmerize you.

“Oh I wish you could see your face. You’re so desperate.” He tuts, pulling his pants all the way down and stepping out of them.

He pulls you closer to him, your butt hanging off the bed slightly. After a few more strokes, he lines himself up at your entrance, pushing in without giving you a chance to fully prepare for his size. He slides in, letting out a ragged, breathy, moan as he does. Coriolanus takes a moment to fully sink into you, and when he does he hits your cervix with a hard, deep thrust. He pulls back and thrusts back a few more deliberate times then finds a good pace. He leans down eventually, capturing your lips. You can still taste yourself on his lips. You moan. Your legs wrap around his waist and nails scratch his back, which only encourages him. He ruts into you deeper and harder, gritting his teeth and grunting as he does. Coriolanus pulls away to look at you, panting. He cups your jaw, forcing you to focus on him, flashing a devilish smile.

“Is this the attention you wanted? Fucking Sej to get to me. Bet you liked being a little whore for him too.”

“H-h-he wasn’t as good as you.”

“I know that darling. That’s not what I want to hear you say though.”

“I-I like being a whore for you..” you breathe, your head starting to feel hazy.

“Mhmm. Good girl.” He whispers, drilling into you

The sounds of skin on skin and your collective moans fill the room. You warn Coriolanus to be quiet, fearful his family will return home from the dinner to hear lewd sounds coming from his bedroom. He only shakes his head at you, ignoring your pleas.

“This is my house princess. They know better than to investigate noises that have nothing to do with them. Especially coming from my room….” He breathes, his hot breath fanning your face. “So keep making those pretty little noises for me slut”

He rails you now, not holding back and expecting the same from you. All you can do is let him fuck you, your soft walls clamping down on him like a vice. He’s intoxicating, all consuming of your thoughts and emotions in this moment. You kiss his shoulder and neck as he rocks above you, clutching onto him more and more. He presses his fingers against your clit, rubbing small, tight circles.

“Mmm fuck Snow.”

“Call me Coryo” He hisses

“You feel so good Coryo. Mmm please don’t stop.”

“Oh I’m nowhere close to being done with you.”

He sits up, tossing your legs over his shoulder. Coriolanus starts to reign in his actions, slowing down his hips, staring down at your fucked out form. He admires you, almost looking sweet, but behind his facade, he was basking in how easily you seemed to have succumbed to his pleasure. And you can’t help yourself. Fucking Sejanus Plinth was nothing in comparison to the man who was currently inside you. Sejanus was gentle. Focused on your own pleasure and relishing in being able to sleep with a girl as gorgeous as you. He almost was too overwhelmed by your beauty to keep himself from finishing early, but Coriolanus was completely different. His dominant aura gave you a feeling that you haven’t felt before. The way he takes control, it excites you. His fingers return back to your clit, and you grind against them.

“There you go. Good girl. You like when I play with you like that?”

“Yes, yes yes…” you chant, nodding

“Such a pretty little whore for me aren’t you. Such an attention seeker. Look at you. Getting all the attention you want now.”

He reaches down, grabbing at your hips, he pulls you closer to him. He lifts your hips up off the mattress and starts to angrily thrust into you now, chasing more of his own pleasure. Still, he was unsatisfied and was feeling a bit greedy. Coriolanus pulls out, causing you to whine. His fingers rubbing your pussy again, slowly silencing you.

“Can’t believe you fucked my best friend just to get my attention. Is that what you like to do? Fuck to get what you want? Well two can play at that game” he pants. “And as you know princess I’m good at winning games.” He grunts

He ruts into you harsher, pushing the air out of your lungs.

“Wanna turn over and show me your pretty ass?”

“Fuck yes” you whisper.

He leans down to kiss you, pulling you up. You and him stay like this for a moment. His tongue swirling with your own, mouth consuming yours. Then he pulls back, and you turn over. You rest on your hands and knees, arching your back, presenting your ass to him just as he asked. He moans, splaying his hands across your cheeks. Coriolanus lets out a small chuckle, before landing a nice firm slap with both hands. You wince, flinching slightly. He rubs in between your legs, enjoying the way you shake for him. He inserts himself back into you, his hand moving to reach around back in between your legs. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass makes you go feral, and you lower yourself down onto the mattress more. You keep your back arched, and he moans loudly at the feeling of the new angle.

“Fuck that’s it darling. Go ahead and bounce on me. There just like that.”

Coriolanus clutches your hips, bouncing you back onto his cock. You move with him, matching his pace and speed. He feels even deeper in you like this, and with the way he continues to play with your clit, you know you’re close to coming undone. Coriolanus is close too. He gives your ass another slap, then another, and a few more on the other cheek.

“Oooh so good. You take me so well. Did Sejanus fuck you like this?”

“No no no no…” you cry.

“Did he make you come like I’m about to?”

“No”

He ruts into you at an unbearable pace. His grunts becoming more and more animalistic. You can barely hold yourself up and he notices the way your legs wobble. Coriolanus pulls you up against his chest. It only takes a few more thrusts to make you fall apart on his cock. You spasm around him, jerking around. You gasp as you do, holding onto him, the feeling of pleasure so overwhelming.

“Goood girl. That’s it…cum all over my cock. Fuckkk such a little slut.”

“Fuck…oh fuck Coyro..I-I-I…” you babble

He merely laughs at you, thinking how good you feel on him fucked out. His lips part, placing a few sloppy kisses to your cheek.

“Felt good didn’t it?” He asks

“Yes…” you murmur nodding vigorously

“Good.” He pulls out, turning you over and pushing you softly back onto your back. You barely process it as he slips back into you.

“Gotta finish too. Fuck you’re still clenching me darling. You like being fucked after you come?”

“Yes. Fuck are you going to come in me?”

“No…I’ll finish on your tits.”

Not too long after he declares his intentions, he pulls out. He finishes on your breast and stomach, the ropes of cum spread out on your body. When he finally finishes, he rests his sweaty forehead on yours. Your breathing becomes in sync.

“No more bad press. Got it?” He asks, tilting your chin to meet his eyes

“Yes, Coryo.”

“Good. I’ll get you a towel. Clean you up.”

He stands up, walking out of the room feeling satisfied with himself. You reflect on the experience, feeling satisfied in your own right. He may have changed your mind on your next article, but you got him to pay attention to you, which makes you feel somewhat victorious over the next president of Panem.

꧁❧✽☙꧂

#dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #toxic!coriolanus snow #Coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #smut #tbosas #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth #sejanus x reader #sejanus x you #sejanus plinth #tbosas fanfiction

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greynatomy · 1 year ago

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the diner

caitlin foord x reader

i googled some meet cute ideas and came up with this. been wanting to write a caitlin foord fic for a while, just didn’t know what.

let me know what you think!

-grey

———

Tossing and turning in bed, Caitlin couldn’t seem to get herself to fall asleep. Her mind not letting her rest. Instead of staying in bed, Caitlin put on some sweats and a hoodie, hopped into her car to drive around.

The neighborhood was pretty much dead, couple bars just barely closing at two in the morning. Driving a bit further, she comes across a small diner— an American style diner—one she’s never seen before. It looks to be open, also from the little light up ‘open’ sign, she parked her car in the small lot, heading inside.

She seems to be the only one there except for one other person. She didn’t know if she could sit anywhere or had to wait to be seated, but she didn’t have to figure it out for long.

“Hi. Sorry if you’ve waited long, but sit anywhere you please. Menus are already at the tables.” An American accent, Caitlin thought. made sense if an American owned the place.

Seating herself at one of the many small booths, she scans through the menu, suddenly becoming hungry.

“Now, I just made a fresh pot of coffee for you if that’s what you’d like, but how are you with the menu? Need more time?” Caitlin looks up to find you there with a little notepad in your hand, looking down at her with a smile.

“I think I know what I want actually. I’ll just get the pancakes with eggs and bacon please.”

“Alright. Now how do you want your eggs cooked?”

“Scrambled is just fine.”

“What about for a drink?”

“I’ll have a coffee please.”

“Great. I’ll go grab your coffee and start makin’ your food. Be back in a bit.”

As she waited, she looks around the diner, taking in the atmosphere. It looks like the diners you see on the television when watching some old time-y American film or show. Like the one show Caitlin had started to watch, Riverdale was it?

“Here’s your coffee. Cream and sugar for you if you want. And your food is almost done.”

“Thank you.”

Caitlin couldn’t help herself, but she thought you were beautiful. You have an aura that made her want to get to know you more, so she did what she thought she should do.

“Would you like to sit down with me? Like get to know each other and all that?”

You pause. Of course you’ve been asked by other customers to have a meal with them, but you’ve always declined. But you somehow couldn’t decline her invitation.

“Let me just grab your food and I’ll be right back.” You give her a big smile, making Caitlin smile just as big.

After the initial introductions, you and Caitlin had gotten quite along, conversation flowing very easily between the both of you.

You found out that she played football, not at all being a fan of the sport, or sports in general, but not your opinion would definitely change. She asked why you opened up a diner and you told her that you just loved the vibe diners give out and always wanted to open one. Also how there’s not many around England. It’s open twenty-four seven, you only come by when you want to or if there’s no one that can cover a shift.

Without realizing, two hours had passed. Your openers for the diner had just come in. Caitlin tells you that she should get going, picking up her wallet to pay, but you declined saying it’s on the house. Instead, she asked if she could ask for your number, hoping to hang out outside the diner in the future. You agreed, bidding her goodbye as she walked out.

———

Two months have passed. You and Caitlin have been texting and calling everyday, meeting up a few times mostly at your place as she didn’t want any of her friends just bathing in, wanting to introduce you at her own terms.

Her teammates, especially her Matilda teammate Steph, noticed how much she’s been smiling at her phone and cancelling plans with the team.

“What’s god you gigglin’ on your phone there Cait?”

“Nothing.” She brushes Steph off, finishing packing her bag to head back home.

“You’ve been a lot happier these days I feel like.” This got the attention of most of the team, interested in the conversation happening.

“Yeah. Just texting a friend.”

“A friend, hey? You sure they’re just a friend?”

“Okay, fine. I was supposed to invite you anyway, but I do have a girlfriend and I’d like to invite you all to her place tomorrow after training for a dinner. She’s cooking.”

“Foordy’s got herself a girlfriend!” Katie yells out. Everyone else cheering like they’d just won a major tournament.

———

“Alright. They’ll be here soon. Do you need me to do anything else?”

“Nope. Just stand there and be sexy.” You say, leaning up to peck her lips.

Moments later, you hear the sound of the doorbell, Caitlin’s friends trickling in one after the other. Settling down in your backyard, you start getting boba dyed with questions.

“How did you guys meet?”

“When did you guys meet?”

“How’d Caitlin get a hold of you?”

“Woah, guys! Don’t overwhelm her. She’ll answer when you quiet down.”

“Thank you, baby.” You kiss her cheek, getting aww’s from everyone, making you blush. “Alright. To answer all the questions at once, she came by my diner at like two in the morning, I was the only one working and she was my only customer. She was very shy at first, but we warmed up to each other very quickly, talking for two hours. We exchanged numbers, she asked me to be her girlfriend and now we are here.”

After swearing all the questions, everyone quickly dug into the food, complimenting you on the taste. Everyone was so easy to talk to.

Caitlin watched you bond with her teammates, laughing at something Leah had said. She was glad you were getting along with everyone and that everyone had gotten along with you, like they’d known you for quite some time.

She was grateful that she had walked into your diner that night.

#woso x reader #greynatomy #woso #woso imagines #woso imagine #caitlin foord #caitlin foord x reader

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bearsbeetsbeskar · 2 years ago

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Restoring the Roots (Joel Miller x Therapist! reader)

Chapter 1: Pre-Contemplation

Chapter 2 here | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | main masterlist |

Pairing: Joel Miller x therapist! reader, post outbreak Rating: none, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut, age gap) Summary: Life after moving to Jackson looks drastically different for Joel, survival mode is over and now he and Ellie can finally put down new roots. Ellie adapts easily but Joel finds himself struggling to settle into this new life, in more ways than some. At Ellie and Tommy’s insistence, Joel begrudgingly finds himself in therapy to try and work through his struggles but what he encounters is more than just painful memories and deeply rooted trauma. A/N: I cannot say enough thank you's to the number of lovely humans who encouraged this idea and supported me as I embark on my very first fic! And what better Pedro character to be the guinea pig for this idea? Lots of this story draws on my personal knowledge as a social worker, as I am working towards becoming a certified equine assisted therapist. Consequently, there are lots of horsey terms, therapy terms, and vivid descriptions of trauma at certain points. Feel free like, comment, or reblog if you enjoy it :)

Taglist (for now): @beskarandblasters, @pr0ximamidnight, @theewokingdead, @atinylittlepain, @prolix-yuy, @swiftispunk, @harriedandharassed, @amywritesthings

If anyone wants to be on the taglist please let me know! If you don't want to be on it then also let me know lol.

~~~~~~~

You sat up taller in your chair, arching your back and rolling your shoulders in an effort to stretch out your spine, exhaling softly as you heard the cacophony of crunches and protests from your muscles. You had been hunched over your notepad for over an hour, eyebrows scrunched together and your mind running on autopilot, as you caught up on client notes that you had fallen behind on for the last couple days. The downside of having a small therapy practice, hell any therapy practice, was that there was a never ending litany of documentation to fill out. Seeing as you were the only therapist in the tiny commune of Jackson, there was never a shortage of clients and consequently, never a shortage of session notes that you had to write.

“Hun.”

You hear your name spoken in a warm tone from behind you. You barely look up from the page as you try to rewrite the word ‘diagnosis’ after what feels like the fifth time. The word has basically lost all its meaning at this point.

“Honey, c’mon, the sun is about ready to set and you can wrap that up tomorrow.” The cover page to the notepad closes on top of your hand and you look up to see your assistant, Tracey, giving you a knowing look and then glancing towards the front of the office. You follow her gaze to the front windows and take in the deep ember orange hue washing over the business faces and windows on the opposite side of the street, signaling the end of another day. Sighing softly, you lean back in your chair and cross your arms over your chest with a frown. You know she’s right and yet you still have the same dispute every day.

“Trace, you and I both know that if I don’t get them done today, they will just be added to tomorrow’s to do list, besides this is the last one I swear,” you say to her with a smirk, as if she has not heard that excuse before.

You were never the kind of person to half-ass your responsibilities at your job, including client documentation, even if there was no longer any governing body or association to uphold professional social work standards. You did your job with integrity, even the mundane administrative tasks that involved more writing than actual talking with clients. Tracey knew this of course, it was something she admired about you, how suited you were for this line of work. It was clear that you cared deeply for the clients that you supported. But it doesn’t mean it was not a fight when the end of the workday rolled around and she had to tear you away from your desk and practically shove you out of the office door.

She rolled her eyes at you and her lips curled into a small smile as she headed towards the door with her coat and bag in tow. “Promise me you will at least be out of here before the night patrol starts?” She points her finger at you as she stops just ahead of the door. You nod and wave her off as you turn your focus back to the notepad, smoothing your palm over the words etched into the cover ‘Restorative Reins.’

You had only been in Jackson for roughly over a month, though it felt like much longer. Much like everyone else who had survived the outbreak and came to find refuge in the small settlement after the world went to shit, you were grateful to accept any basic decencies of normal life that were afforded to you. Warm meals, warm showers, hell running water in general was a miracle in and of itself at that point. So when you actually arrived in Jackson, you were dumbfounded to see how much normalcy surrounded you. Children running and playing in the streets, storefronts of various thriving businesses, sheep being rounded up in a nearby corral - hold on, a fucking MOVIE THEATER?

While it took some time to grow out of the perpetual fight or flight mode that you were entrenched in from life on the road, you did eventually fall into a good pace in Jackson. Especially after getting involved in the community and taking up the job as the local therapist, you had never been busier, and you loved it.

The world felt unflinchingly obsolete post outbreak, but being able to support others with their mental health never failed to bring you joy and an unshakeable sense of purpose. You wanted to help others as they navigated their pain and broke down the mental blocks that entrapped them in their trauma. You wanted to help them realize the innate strength that they possessed. Sadly, you never got the chance to practice long term, as you finished up grad school just before the outbreak happened. But that didn’t seem to matter now as you had an endless stream of community members that you saw on a weekly basis at your practice, all with their own pain and struggles, seeking support.

It was crazy to think about the short period of time that had passed since you started at the job, how much you had done for the residents, how much more that you wanted to do. You were pulled from your memories when the office phone rang, internally groaning as you looked at your watch.

4:58 p.m. Of course.

Steeling yourself you picked up the phone, praying that it was a quick call.

“Restorative Reins Practice, how can I help you?” you answered.

“Oh! hi ma'am,” a warm, mellow Southern drawl greets you on the other end. “Are you the local therapist that has been helpin’ folks out around here with their mental health?”

"That's me,” you reply warmly, “what can I do for you?”

The man hesitates briefly, “Well, I was uh wanting to know a bit more about the business I guess, how the therapy process works, fees and stuff for someone who was interested in getting help. Not me though, it’s not for me, it’s for my brother, Joel. My name is Tommy by the way,” he mentions quickly.

“No problem Tommy, I can explain the basics to you including the different types of therapy I offer and how the process works,” you reassure him. You explain to him the different services, how the equine therapy worked, walk in hours, session lengths and so on.

“I should probably mention that my brother ain’t keen on getting help and reaching out to others when he needs it, he’s too damn proud to acknowledge it, so he really doesn’t think he has any issues and thinks everything is fine… but he’s having a real tough time settlin’ down here. He’s so haunted by his past and he’s been acting differently lately, more temperamental, well, more than usual,” Tommy adds. You smile to yourself and nod, as you’ve had many clients before who were stuck in similar struggles and closed off to therapy initially.

“I can definitely understand that,” you sympathize with him. “It sounds like your brother has been through a lot and you just want him to get some support, which is great. Therapy isn’t for everybody but I have worked with many individuals like him who were going through similar situations, and they found great success.”

“That’s great to hear. That’s all I want for him is to get some help,” Tommy states.

“Now with that being said,” you continue, “therapy is voluntary, I cannot force someone to attend, but if your brother would agree to a consultation with me, I could chat with him more about where he is at, the kind of support he could benefit from and go from there. No pressure to commit to anything,” you propose to him.

“Hmm, I think he could be persuaded to try that, now that you mention it like that,” Tommy chuckles, sounding pleasantly surprised.

“Awesome! You can tell him to stop by the office any time and we can discuss it more. We’re open from 9-5,” you tell him, silently relieved that it was an indeed quick call. He thanks you and hangs up.

Something else akin to curiosity creeps into your mind as you recount what Tommy briefly told you about his brother. Maybe more so intrigue. You wonder how resistant he is to therapy, what happened in his past to hurt him so deeply, but you catch yourself before your thoughts run away from you further, either way you look forward to helping another person in need.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tommy, I swear to god if you bring up this damn therapy shit again, I won’t hesitate to shoot you next time we’re out on patrol,” Joel growled through clenched teeth, as he walked away from his brother into the kitchen of the house.

“Boy, it ain’t like I never heard that before,” Tommy quipped sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he followed Joel into the kitchen, pausing in the doorway as he leaned against the frame, hands shoved into his pockets. He observed his brother's rigid stance, the tightness in his shoulders, as Joel stood over the sink, looking out the window.

This felt like the umpteenth time that Tommy had broached the subject of Joel getting help and talking to a ‘shrink,’ as he dismissively described it, for the issues that he was struggling with. Joel was fine. He didn’t have any fucking issues. He was doing just fine and didn’t need some professional to scrutinize him, reduce him to his vices, and open old wounds from his past life. He was encouraged to go to grief counseling after Sarah died but by some grace of God, or whatever godforsaken omnipotent entity existed at that point, the outbreak occurred. Forget mental health, physical health and survival became the only focus.

Tommy exhaled softly. “Listen, I'm only suggestin’ it because I care about you. Ellie cares about you. You both have been through hell and back in the last year, I mean shit, we all have. But it seems like everything y’all went through is still affecting you, holding you back from letting your guard down and settling in here,” he states plainly, sadness lacing his tone.

“That’s bullshit Tommy and you know it,” Joel snaps, turning to face his younger brother and leaning back against the counter, arms crossed in defense. His gaze narrows. “I go out on patrol don’t I? Pick up extra shifts wherever it’s needed, help out with the contracting jobs, go out with Ellie in town.” Joel stood up taller, puffing out his chest, challenging his younger brother. Tommy shook his head, running his hand over his face with an exasperated expression. Heaven forbid Joel did anything for himself that did not involve contributing or providing for someone, period. He just couldn’t shake that from his identity, and it broke Tommy’s heart as he watched his brother’s stubborn pride, ridden with guilt and trauma, swallow him whole.

“Man when are you gonna fuckin’ do something for yourself Joel?!” Tommy asserted, his frustration reaching a boiling point. “Forget the damn commune, forget the community, forget Ellie for a sec and think about the last time YOU did something for yourself, the last time YOU reached out for help goddamnit.” He pushed off the doorframe and crossed the threshold of the kitchen as he strode towards Joel.

“You’re not on the run anymore brother. You don’t have to just survive. You can have a life here. You can sleep without keepin’ one eye open and relax without lookin’ over your shoulder. Don’t you want that? Don’t you think you deserve that?! Don’t you think you deserve this?!” Tommy said as he gestured around the cozy kitchen and fixed his older brother with a pleading stare.

Joel’s eyes widened as he tried to step back, the edge of the counter biting into his lower back as he took in Tommy’s weary face, the pain in his soft brown eyes, mirroring his own. His younger brother rarely raised his voice anymore. The outbreak took its toll on his hot headed temperament that never seemed to simmer down, even after he was discharged from the army. Joel knew that Tommy cared about him, hell he knew how deeply his brother loved him, after all they had respectively been through in the last twenty years, it had to be serious for him to raise his voice.

Joel opened his mouth, ready to bite back but his brother raised his hands in the air in surrender, “Look, this is the last time I will bring this up, I swear. But yesterday I called up the therapist in town who’s been helpin’ folks out, and asked her about the therapy process and she seems real nice, and supportive. She said you could come in for a consultation and talk to her and see if you’re interested,” Tommy said quietly.

Joel’s gaze narrows as he scrunches his eyebrows together in incredulity, “You-”

“I had nothing to lose Joel. Absolutely nothing. And neither do you,” Tommy cuts him off, raising his chin in defiance. “At least go talk to the therapist, if you don’t like her or you’re not feelin’ it, then I’ll drop it and let it go. Okay? The office is on the main street, just beside the clothing store, adjacent to the stables and they’re open everyday from 9-5.”

“Jesus fucking Christ Tommy,” Joel leaned back as he looked up at the ceiling, wishing it would collapse in on him. Gotta love that brotherly love.

“Look I should be getting back now, Maria will be waiting for me. Here’s the number and address for the business. I’ll see you around okay?” Tommy patted through his pockets and retrieved a small piece of paper with writing scribbled on it, placing it on the counter beside Joel. He gave him a last placating look before he walked out of the kitchen, the front door closing behind him with a soft click.

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled sharply before turning back around to look out the kitchen window. He hung his head in defeat, rounding his back as he rested his elbows on the counter and glared into his matte reflection in the sink. He didn’t need any help. He was doing fine. He’s still upright and breathing, with blood coursing through his veins isn’t he? Albeit, he's not jumping out of bed like a sprightly thirty year old anymore. His knees pop and crackle when he gets up from crouching over machinery for too long, his joints protest the next day when he pushes himself too far, moving slower than usual on job sites.

Hell, even his memory is starting to get cloudy around the edges. If it weren’t for Ellie some days, he’s sure he would leave the house without pants on, what with her always reminding him where things are in the house, special events that are coming up in the community that he forgets about. He had been a bit more snappy than usual, as Ellie so lovingly pointed out one day, but that’s nothing compared to his normal demeanour.

“You’re becoming a grumpy motherfucker y'know that? Jeez, who shit in your cornflakes this morning?” She grumbled at him with a mouth full of cereal, after he snapped at her reminder that it was parent day at the local school. Parent day, P.A. day, Joel hadn’t dealt with any of this shit in over twenty years since Sarah was in school. Even then he managed to swiftly neglect many of the parental events, seeing as Sarah was the perfect student, with nothing but glowing reviews from her teachers. The fact that Ellie was going to school amidst a fucking apocalypse was enough for Joel to be content.

But still, he’s doing fine, right? Just fine.

“Maybe talking to someone that’s not related to you would help you, y’know? Being able to talk about shit that you can’t talk to me, or Tommy, or anyone else about you know?” Ellie proposed to him later that night.

As luck would have it, she was already home when Joel and Tommy spoke in the kitchen and she had heard pretty much the entire conversation. And like Tommy, she only wanted Joel to get support because she cared about him.

“Think of all the shit that we went through in the past year, forget the infected, and the raiders, and FEDRA, and almost dying,” she casually listed off on one hand as if she was reciting a grocery list.

“There's so much shit that we’re both carrying with us, demons from our past, and it’s gotta come out one way or another. Look, therapists aren’t there to judge you, or analyze you,” she continued, “they’re kind of like a sounding board for you to bounce your thoughts off of, and they help you process shit you’re going through. You never know unless you try it,” she said matter of factly.

“Like Tommy said, you got nothing to lose man. Plus the whiskey and pills will only help you numb reality for so long, you’re gonna go insane eventually,” she said, fixing him with a knowing look as she leaned back into the couch beside him.

Joel just grunted in response and frowned. Damn this kid for being too insightful for her own good.

Ellie might be young but she most certainly wasn’t naive. And as much as Joel would have liked to assume that her easy transition into life in Jackson was on account of her youthfulness, it really wasn’t. It was just the fact that she had never known a normal life, as heartbreaking as that was. She never had the chance to experience such normalcy before everything turned on its head. But she developed friendships with a few of the other teens in the community, namely one girl Dina, who she hung out with after school, went to the movies and other community events with.

She didn’t have to actively try to fit into Jackson, she just did. Joel would never acknowledge the pangs of jealousy he felt gnawing at his insides when he saw her getting on so well, but it didn’t mean they chipped away at his morale any less.

Ellie smirked at his lack of response, knowing he was mulling it over in his mind. With the relationship they had developed over the past year, she was grateful to be able to talk to Joel and actually get through to him.

“Damn maybe I should be a fuckin’ therapist, that was good advice wasn’t it?” she grinned at him, elbowing him in his side.

Joel snorted and shook his head. “Christ, I must be losing my mind for real this time if you’ve got me considering it.”

“Now c’mon,” she wiggled her eyebrows at him, “you owe me at least a few games of Boggle for that pep talk,” she said triumphantly, holding up the weathered board game that was on the coffee table.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x therapist! reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #the last of us hbo #equine assisted therapy #equine therapy

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potatowithahat · 4 months ago

Text

A doctor's notepad

A sdv Harvey fic

Winter 28th year 0

Well I guess this is a thing. My psychiatrist in Zuzu city recommended keeping a journal to help with anxiety and loneliness. I guess I'll uh… see how this thing works out. It will probably be pretty short entries though. I'm a busy man after all. Why am I writing this like someone's expecting to read them? This is silly. I'm going to bed

-Harvey, the doctor

Spring 1, year 1

Well Luis tells me there's a new farmer in town! Good for business, I suppose. I need the extra money. And frankly that farm was a hazard either way. I can't even count anymore the amount of scrapes and bruises Jaz and Vincent have come in with from playing out there. Its practically part of the forest now. Whoever they are is going to have a hell of a time cleaning that mess up.

-Harvey, the doctor

Spring 7, year 1

I guess I spoke too soon about that old farm. Seems the farmers got it fixed up nice enough. I was at Pierre's for groceries Friday and I overheard Pierre talking about how they've been buying lots of seeds. Then, when I went to the museum yesterday I found they have made a deal with Gunther to donate artifacts! I saw them on the way home but they walked passed me with there head down. I think they might be a bit shy.

-Harvey, the doctor

Spring 8, Year 1

The Farmer came in and brought me coffee this morning!!!! They apologized for being rude yesterday and said it was a good will gift. I told them it was no problem, and how much I appreciated the coffee. They just nodded and headed off, citing some chores they had back at the farm. They were very nice about it. I felt like they were in a hurry to leave though.

-Harvey, the doctor

Spring 9, year 1

The Farmer brought me another coffee today! I think Maru might have told her I liked it. Or maybe they still feel bad? I'm not quite sure. They just walked up to my desk, sat the coffee down and quickly walked out. It felt a little odd. Other then that George has a cough. I need to talk about it with him.

-Harvey, the doctor

Spring 13, year 1

The Farmers been bringing me coffee ever since the seventh. They're very quiet about it though, just setting it on my desk. I'm still not used to it. They sought me out at the egg Festival today however!!!! She was telling me how much they loved dieing and searching for eggs as a kid. They got so animated about it but stopped themselves and apologized. They walked away before I could say how much I was enjoying the conversation. I'll have to talk to them later.

-Harvey, the doctor

Spring 24, year 1

I almost asked the farmer to dance with me. Almost. I couldn't go through with it though. I didn't have the Nerve and I mean.. who am I to ask? I'm just the town doctor. I think she asked Shane, but he must have turned her down because he was still dancing with Penny. I stayed with Maru, as always. We had a good time. Couldn't help but notice the farmer glancing over at me now and then. Or maybe it was just because I was so focused on them? Not sure

-Harvey, the doctor

Don't you fret, there will be more in the near future!!!

Thank you so much for reading

Edit: part two is live!! Find it here!

If you'd like to read more of my stories, feel free to visit my Ao3, or check out my masterlist here on tumblr!!!

As always I'm a little gremlin when it comes to writing so if you have any fic ideas please feel free to drop an ask!!!!

Also I'd love to thank @minnieplier-blog for the idea from there lovely ask!!!!

#stardew my beloved #stardew valley #harvey sdv #sdv harvey #stardew fanfic #fanfic #Rory writes fics

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lucysarah-c · 2 months ago

Note

2 questions.

Do you ever feel like you're doing a fave reveal sometime in the future?

Aaaaand

Do you feel like eventually quitting doing Levi fics? Or like fanarts?

Hi~~ How are you?

Ooh, personal questions! I like this! I get all flustered when people ask me stuff about myself aside from Levi-related questions.

First things first. Maybe this will sound silly, but I used to post TikToks with Levi content, and… all the comments were hardly about Levi; most of them were about my looks—whether I was pretty or not. I'd make a post about a headcanon involving Levi, and the only "saves" I got were from men… which made me doubt that all those guys saved my TikTok talking about cute things Levi would do as a boyfriend because they liked the idea. I prefer that my content (writing or drawing) is appreciated for my abilities, not my appearance.

Fun fact: One time, I posted a video here on Tumblr about my "natural nails" because they were so pretty… A hand fetish blog reblogged it, and I had people offering me money for pictures in my DMs for easily four months… I'm still traumatized by it.

Second! I thought about it. I actually considered dropping the fandom after the manga finished, but then I gave it a second thought. A few months ago, I felt like I had no ideas left to write about, and I thought, "Maybe this is it…" But I woke up in the middle of the night that SAME day, grabbed the notepad next to my bed, and wrote down two entire ideas for new fics. I always say I'll keep doing this until I no longer enjoy it or people decide to kick me out, lmao. I've got a bunch of projects that I want to do.

For example, I'd like to finish "Holy Ground" and draw a lot of the scenes to create a printed version of it for myself with illustrations! I'd love to do live streams or drawing sessions of Levi, maybe even play the AoT game. I have a project of opening a Patreon account for NSFW Levi art where supporters can choose the art projects I do. I've got a lot of creativity left in me, I believe. So, I think you guys will have to keep putting up with my content for a while, haha.

Thank you for the questions! I feel all bubbly inside when people ask me personal questions for some reason!

Have a lovely day!

#lucy answers #lucy rambles #lucy stuff #personal questions #personal rant #personal stuff

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teetle-time · 9 months ago

Text

Time Is All We Have

A Doctor Who x Rise of the TMNT Xover interest check/story prologue because i'm losing all control of my life lmao

Quick mini-primer for where in both timelines we are:

Non-teetle fixaters, you can just watch the first few minutes of the Rise movie. Bad future timeline shenanigans wahoo! You should probably also get a feel for the regular present timeline from the show if you can, though we won't be directly interacting with it for a quite a bit. Because Reasons. :)

Non-Who fixaters, we're rolling with David Tennant Doctor The First and the companion named Martha Jones. The name similarity to the Casey Joneses makes me giggle, especially now that I've watched through the (REDACTED) episodes where she ends up with some more Caseys parallels. Those haven't happened yet for her though lmao. Frankly, she's only had a few episodes'-worth of adventures with the Doctor by this point. :)

anyway. shoutout to my brother purpletango for having this idea. i believe what i hurriedly jotted down in my notepad app went like this:

the rise movie begins, mikey gets ready to send junior back in time- -and something goes wrong. welp, the gateway's there now. may as well use it. junior gets yeeted through (and my brain is now adding the idea of leo realizing something's up and going with him) and junior (and maybe leo) land…in the TARDIS. now they gotta get back to earth (hoping they're at least in the right dimension) to find the key and stop the krang. NO PRESSURE LMFAO

with a lil tweaking to the premise that just sorta happened as i was writing, i'm now at 26k words of combined fic and notes. it has been 2.5 weeks. i am nowhere near done. help lmao

gonna be doing something a bit funky with the tardis here just to get the ball rolling. idk if it's a canon thing that can happen but if it's not then shshshshshshsh just pretend with me. take my hand

〜

Almost exactly twelve hours prior to the moment he died, when the rest of what remained of the Resistance had been asleep and it had only been the turtles awake to keep watch, Michelangelo had looked to his big brother and said, "We can't beat them, can we?"

Last night, Leonardo had swallowed and given a slight shake of his head. "We can't."

"They've even stolen the night sky from us somehow," Michelangelo had said, lifting his gaze to the cloudless, crimson sky. "Look, there's no stars anymore."

"When did that happen?" Leonardo had asked under his breath. "We still had at least a handful last I checked…"

"Sometime since the last time we had enough peace and quiet at night to actually look up. I'd say…in the past few weeks?" Michelangelo had suggested.

There had been silence for a long moment after that, broken only by the quiet, deep breathing of the few who were left, as well as the shifting of Michelangelo's cloak as he scooted a bit closer to his brother.

Between the two of them, Leonardo and Michelangelo had enough organic fingers and toes to count everyone else who'd survived the past twenty-odd years. Then again, with only two toes on each foot, three fingers on each hand, and three organic hands left to use…well. Less than twenty wasn't exactly an army.

Casey had shifted in his sleep, eventually, mumbling something incoherent the way his mother always had.

Leonardo had swallowed.

Michelangelo had pulled his gaze back down to Earth and looked at him.

"The Krang won't give us the mercy of dying," Leonardo had said grimly. "Not if they can help it."

"They won't," Michelangelo had agreed.

"The others chose to fight with us. Humans, yokai, and mutants. Even Todd. Never would've expected him of all yokai to be so kickass, back in the day. But…this is all Casey's ever known," Leonardo had continued.

"It is."

There had been a shifting in the shadows off in the distance, then, and while it had turned out to be easily taken care of, it had still put a pause on the brothers' conversation for a bit.

When they'd gotten back, but before they'd woken the others and gotten moving again, Leonardo had nailed Michelangelo with a solemn look. "We can't avoid this forever, but Casey…"

"I know you're not talking about that thing we talked about never talking about," Michelangelo had said, raising the ridges of his brows for a deadpan look and a wry smile.

Leonardo had jabbed an elbow into his plastron with a thick snicker…but he hadn't denied it.

Michelangelo had sobered up, then. "Oh."

"Do you think you can do it?" Leonardo had asked as he'd knelt to shake April awake, pausing before he did to meet Michelangelo's eyes.

"I know I can," Michelangelo had said, remaining quiet about how 'it' would very likely be the end of him.

They'd both already known as much.

"When?"

"I-I don't know. When things look bleakest," Leonardo had tried. "If it comes down to us. If it's just you and somebody else. If…if it's just you."

Michelangelo had nodded, then put a hand on his brother's carapace. "The Krang'll get front-row seats to Earth's very own home-grown sun. And that's a Doctor Delicate Touch guarantee."

"Wouldn't expect anything less, little man," Leonardo had chuckled. "Give 'em a light show that'll have 'em running scared."

"I can fly, Leo. And 'little man' was always Raph's thing," Michelangelo had snickered, reaching down to wake Casey. "Hey, Casey, we gotta get moving. Mind waking up and reminding your sensei that I win all height contests forever, no take-backs?"

The noise had begun rousing the others, and Leonardo had scoffed. "Turning my own student against me, Mikey? Low blow."

"Nah," April had said from where she lay. "This is a low blow."

She had snapped an arm out to smack Leonardo's shin, and the rest of the survivors had woken to quiet laughter.

It had been nice.

The last moment of calm within the storm.

In the present, Michelangelo winced as the mystic energies swirling through him reached a crescendo, but still pushed further, digging his fingers into the fabric of reality and wrenching it apart.

With Leonardo wounded, everyone else outnumbered, and Krang closing in on all sides, it was definitely pretty bleak.

There was no better time to make a time gateway than when there was no time left, after all.

His heart pounded in his tympana, loudly enough he almost could have sworn it echoed, a thud-thud-thud-thud that wanted to shake him to the core.

For a moment, with the Krang bearing down on him, his brother, and his nephew, it felt like he was losing his grip.

Casey's voice managed to overpower the thud-thud-thud-thud: "Master Michelangelo, no! You're gonna-!"

He knew.

How could he not, with light cracking his skin and his scales into little flakes of dust on the wind?

But Casey…he was the future.

The best of all of them.

As long as Casey would be okay, Michelangelo could do anything. Would do anything.

He turned his head back over his shoulder for one last look.

Casey looked horrified.

Leonardo looked resigned.

There was no one else left.

(He didn't want to go.)

Michelangelo smiled and gave his family a cheeky little wink, then turned his attention to the time gateway in front of him, threw his arms out to his sides with one last heave-!

-and like Earth's very own home-grown supernova, like the very last star in the universe, he imploded into golden light.

〜

Leonardo felt himself shatter inside as Mikey disintegrated and the time gate stabilized, but the Krang were still closing in.

"Casey, when you're done saving the world, do me a favor," he said, putting a hand on the kid's shoulder.

Casey looked up at him with wide eyes. "Sensei, don't-!"

Leonardo just smiled sadly and shifted his grip from comforting to more of a ready to throw.

He ignored the fire in his side and the trickle of blood down his plastron as he hurled Casey into the gateway. "Grab a slice-!"

"NO!"

Casey's scream was the only warning Leonardo had before the wrist-strapped grapple (standard issue, at least before Donnie had gone out with a bang) streaked back out of the portal, latched onto Leonardo's good shoulder, and yanked him off his feet.

"Whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa-!"

The deafening thrum of a Krang laser and a flash of heat at his back told Leonardo exactly how he should have died, but the sensations vanished just as quickly as they'd appeared, leaving only the golden light of Michelangelo's ninpo and the silhouette a few yards away that told Leonardo where Casey was.

Leo almost let himself go limp in the rushing mass of energy as it faded from golden-orange to something more bluish-gray.

Almost.

Instead, however, he grit his teeth against the way his wound flared up and started swimming for Casey.

The light around them grew brighter with no signs of stopping.

By the time Leo reached the kid, he had to screw his eyes shut to avoid going blind.

He managed to grab Casey's hand, then wrap himself protectively around him-

-and then some kind of metal grating slammed against his carapace, his head snapped back, and he knew only darkness.

〜

The Doctor blinked at the sudden sound of beeping. "Oh? That doesn't sound right."

"Doctor? What is it?" asked Martha.

"I'm getting an alert," said he, darting over to one of the TARDIS' monitors for a look. "An alert that there's a lifeform catapulting through the timestream almost completely unprotected- two! Two lifeforms!"

Martha blinked. "What? How did that happen?"

"I don't know, but if we want to find out, we'd best get them onboard before whatever shielding they do have is eroded away." The Doctor studied the monitor for a moment more, then slid around the console and started throwing the appropriate levers and flicking the appropriate switches. "I need to focus on getting close- would you mind peeking out the doors to make sure my aim isn't off?"

"On it!"

The Doctor grinned, then turned his focus back to steering. "Aaalright then! They ought to be coming up just ahead, maybe a smidge to our left-!"

"I see them!" Martha called. "One of them- one looks human!"

The Doctor blinked, then looked up. "Only the one?"

Martha nodded, not tearing her eyes from the window. "The other looks almost like a turtle! Except, well, it's person-sized!"

"Curiouser and curiouser," the Doctor mused. Then, looking back down at the console, "Well, I think the simplest course of action would be to just…scoop them up!"

Martha glanced his way in confusion. "What, just open the door and grab 'em?"

"Exactly. You'll want to be quick and precise," the Doctor recommended. "Good to know we're on the same page."

After a moment to process what he'd said, Martha nodded slowly. "…right."

The Doctor carefully piloted the TARDIS close, and as he watched the energy readings of the two lifeforms get close enough, he heard Martha open the door, then yelp in surprise as something hard hit the metal flooring with a clang.

"Sensei?!" squawked the thick and emotional voice of a pubescent human boy.

"Oh, my," said the Doctor, skirting the edge of the console as he jogged over for a look.

Immediately, he could tell that whatever the circumstances were that had led to the two strangers being catapulted into the timestream, they had not been pretty. Between the apocalyptic fashion and weaponry, the fact that the turtle had seemingly been curled around the boy until losing consciousness, and the sight of tear tracks on the boy's face…well, a billboard would have been less obvious.

The boy glanced between the Doctor and Martha, wide eyes quickly shifting into suspicion as he slid off "Sensei's" plastron and placed himself between the turtle and the Doctor. "Who are you? What do you want with us? Are you with the Krang?"

Huh. He sounded American.

"Krang?" asked Martha, turning to him. "Doctor, what's a Krang?"

The Doctor frowned, mulling the word over. "Krang? Krang, Krang, KrangKrangKrang… Can't say I recognize the name. Bit of a shocker, really, and somewhat worrisome."

The boy's face spasmed, confusion clearly welling up, but the door chose to remind them all that it was still open by letting a tannish cloak drift through and land next to the two newcomers.

The sight of the cloak made the boy's eyes moisten further.

Oh, dear.

"Martha, could you get the door?" asked the Doctor, shifting his voice into something a little softer as he knelt next to the two strangers.

"Oh, uh- you got it."

As Martha did exactly that, the Doctor met the boy's eyes. "I'm the Doctor. Behind you is Martha, and this is the TARDIS. I don't know what it is you're running from, whatever this 'Krang' business is, but I promise you, you're safe here."

The boy's suspicion slowly lessened, the tension in his shoulders loosening some- though, notably, nowhere near completely. "And…what's a tardis?"

"My spaceship," said the Doctor modestly. "'S how I get around. What I want to know is, how did a humanoid teenager and a turtleman with a robotic arm end up hurtling through the timestream all on their lonesome?"

At that, the boy's gaze flickered to the cloak on the ground, and his jaw hardened in that way jaws tended to do when the only other option was to sob.

"…I see," said the Doctor quietly. "While I'd like to know the specifics, pushing this sort of thing never really seems to work out well. So I won't."

"You-" The boy's voice cracked, and he tried again. "You said you were a doctor?"

"The Doctor," corrected he.

"Though I've been training as one for quite some time, myself!" Martha reminded.

The boy visibly warred with himself for a moment, then grit his teeth and pulled slightly away from the turtle's side, revealing a nasty gash that had gone clean through his shell. "Help him. Please."

Martha gasped. "Oh, God-!"

The Doctor's eyes flew wide, but then he nodded firmly. "We'll do everything we can."

#tenth doctor #martha jones #tmnt leonardo #tmnt michelangelo #casey jones junior #rise #tmnt #doctor who #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #self fic #if you listen closely you can hear the faint sounds of slow jazz 1920's-style 'having a good time' by queen in the distance #TWO ANGSTY YOUNG-OLD MEN IN THE TARDIS WITH THEIR COMPANIONS SURNAME JONES #WHAT WILL THEY DO

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qoldenskies · 2 months ago

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Taking a break from homework to ask 11, 12, and 30 from that ask game you reblogged (I’m super super interested in the way other people go about writing their fics lolol 🙏)

YIPPEEEEE

11. Do you write scenes in order, or do you jump around?

truthfully it kind of depends! whenever i write i tend to have The Scene in mind and if i get impatient i'll usually write it, but i try to avoid doing it because i notice it messes with flow (but flow and pacing is something im just very conscious of, even though i observe that because im writing it my brain is reading it faster/skimming so its partially a me problem LOL)

in caged lungs im skipping around only because im trying to go with a draft format instead of editing as i go, since its so long itll help when i see everything connected, and there's a few scenes i plan on changing/rewriting completely when i get it all out. technically everything ive posted up to this point is a first draft, and its a habit i hope to break !!

12. Do you outline your fics? If yes, how detailed are your outlines? How far do you stray from them?

i doooo yes, its mostly just a list of things/interactions i know i want. for cvd i have plans for up to chapter 9/10 or so, and just a bunch of scripts/concepts for later. with canary continuity i have a description for each scene on the google doc and i just add the content in as i go, with my actual notepad (thing i discovered i had on my laptop and have been using liberally) i mostly have quotes and passages i want to put in the story

and also for cc in particular im keeping really close track of the motifs and how i want to work them back around. already thinking about the healing part of the arc and implanting scenes/chekhovs guns that are going to loop back around WAY down the line is very funny... i actually do some of this for cvd too, i love to write intentionally like that.... i am weirdly pretentious and earnest about my turtle fanfiction. people have no idea what im going to do with that lamp and i bide my time. also the clocks. and the laundry room. and the ocean (actually that one's fine its just a parallel). and the rooftop. and the cameras oh my god the cameras. i plan on committing so many horrors

really just things i know i WANT to be consistent with is the biggest thing i keep track of (although sometimes things will just pop up AS i'm writing and i roll with the punches, like the security system being a metaphor in coming undone, and also all of the very intentional trust fall parallels and the way it conveniently worked with the chapter names. fun fact for metaphors, i REALLY planned to expand on the chess thing between leo and donnie but it messed with the pacing so im keeping it for cvd.... ive got some ideas)

OH EXCEPT FOR THAT SEP AU IVE VAGUELY TALKED ABOUT. i have EVERY SINGLE chapter plotted out, its 52 chapters long. i am NOT GOING TO WORRY ABOUT IT RIGHT NOW its a far in the future thing. but its also the only au i have that isnt like,,, specifically canon divergent, so i wanted to pay close attention to how i set things up. 4 later (currently the working name for it is where we went wrong, after the song by the hush sound, and honestly im tempted to keep it because it makes the acronym wwww which is beautifully ironic because they take NOTHING BUT LS ITS JUST ONE AFTER ANOTHER OH MY GOD)

30. How much do you edit your fics? Do you edit as you write or wait until you finish the first draft?

OH I KIND OF ALREADY ANSWERED THIS ABOVE OOPS. im trying to break out of the habit but i mostly just grammar correct through google docs and then throw out the first draft haphazardly, and it can kinda come off polished anyway because i tend to edit as i go. sometimes it means i'll fix mistakes in fics like a month after releasing them, impatience is my Weakness

wow i yap a lot LMFAO the yapperrrr

#ask #personal #rottmnt

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actual-lea · 7 months ago

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Believe it or not, this fic is definitely still a thing so read it if you wanna?

AO3 | First chapter | Previous chapter

"You'd better come and see this," is the first thing that Milo, Theresa's nurse, says to Abigail when she walks through the door. He's out of breath from running halfway down the stairs, and the startled look in his eyes is so alarming that Abigail doesn't even pause to step out of her shoes; she just follows him up to Theresa's room without a word.

When she enters, Theresa turns to look at her. To look at her, not through her, and not her five or ten or God knows how many years younger. Abigail approaches the bed cautiously, in case any sudden movement might break the spell.

Theresa smiles. “Good to see you, Abby.”

Abigail laughs at that, because she doesn’t know what else to do. “Supposed to be my line, you know,” she says. Distantly, she notices that Milo has gone, leaving her alone with her sister for however long this lasts.

Theresa’s gaze, still lucid and more focused than it's been in years, drifts around the room, taking in the small space. When she turns back to Abigail, there’s something like realization in her eyes. “What year is it?”

Abigail hesitates. Informing Theresa of the current date has never been a good idea, based on past experiences. But then, she’s never directly asked for it before. “It's 2007."

Instead of panic, those focused eyes light up with something like excitement. “Bring me a pen.”

Abigail has to leave the room to find one, her movements hurried, almost frantic; what if she returns to find Theresa gone again, lost somewhere in the past, if she’s even conscious at all?

But no, Theresa’s right where and when she left her, sitting up in bed with her hands neatly folded over the edge of her blanket. Maybe it’s only Abigail’s imagination, but she looks healthier, less pale than usual, an impression that’s only helped by the way her face lights up again as Abigail hands her the pen. There's a notepad on the table beside the bed, and Theresa leans over to reach it.

"What is it?" Abigail asks as she starts scribbling.

"It's a long story," Theresa says, and her silence spells out the unspoken implication: there isn't enough time to explain. "Is your passport still valid?"

Abigail blinks. It's been years since she thought about her passport at all. She'd gotten it in preparation for a holiday to Australia that never materialized. That was before everything; before their father's cancer diagnosis, before the accident. "I'd have to check, but I think so," she replies. "But, why–"

"I need you to fly to Los Angeles, and give this to Daniel."

Another blink. "Come again?"

"I can tell you exactly where to find him," Theresa says, as if it’s a perfectly reasonable request.

"Are you out of your head?" Abigail says without thinking, and Theresa looks up from the page for the first time. “You want me to make a bloody pilgrimage all the way to the States, just to see Daniel Faraday? Why in God's name would I do that?”

“You want me to get better, don’t you?" Theresa says, unfazed. "This is how I get better. This is how it all starts." She sketches out some sort of diagram while Abigail watches in stunned silence. “On the twentieth of September, this year, you’ll find him at this address.” She flips the paper over and scribbles something down before resuming her drawing on the other side. “He’ll be sitting outside on the north end of the building. He’s carrying a plastic bag and wearing a red plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up.” She pauses and smiles, like she's laughing at a joke only she can hear. “His right shoe is untied.”

Abigail stares at her, bewildered. Theresa's spent years adrift in the past, but she's never predicted the future before.

"I know it sounds strange," Theresa says, as if reading her mind. "But you have to trust me, okay?" She pauses again, looks up, waits for Abigail to nod once, mechanically, before ripping the paper free of the notepad and handing it over.

She blinks at it, more confused than ever. "What...is it?"

"Daniel will know what it means," Theresa says with certainty.

Abigail is quiet for a long moment. This is absurd. Her sister's mind must be lost, again, somewhere different than usual, and yet...

She meets Theresa's steady gaze. There's an almost unsettling clarity there, a firm sense of conviction and purpose that Abigail hasn't seen since...

Well, since before the accident. Before her sister was taken away from her, by the very man that she's being asked to seek out.

"Be nice to him, okay?" Theresa adds, reading her mind again, and Abigail tries not to flinch. "He's going through a lot."

She laughs at that. "Trying to talk me into it?" She looks up at Theresa again. "Honestly, getting to see that bastard miserable isn't the worst incentive I can think of, if–"

But her sister isn’t looking at her anymore. She’s staring down at the blank paper in her hands, thumbnail picking at the side of the pen like she isn’t sure what to do with it anymore.

Abigail’s heart sinks back into the pit it had only just managed to climb out of. “Theresa?” she says gently. “Are you still with me?”

Her sister turns to her, eyes wide and distant. “I had a bad dream,” she says, in a small, childish voice.

------

“So, what does it mean?”

Daniel shakes his head at Abigail’s question without looking up from the page. Gun to his head, he could never have conjured a mental image of her elegantly scribbled handwriting, but seeing it now in front of him, there's no question that the diagram is definitely Theresa’s handiwork.

Nine neat circles, with labels like Event A, Event B, and so on, all connected within an intricate web of lines, four of them named: real time, space-time, imaginary time, and imaginary space. The rest aren’t labeled at all, but instead denoted by equations, complex formulas with vaguely familiar symbols and constants, concepts that he can’t quite wrap his head around anymore, at least not without a cheat sheet to remind him which letters mean what.

"This is…really advanced stuff,” he says, finally, a laughable understatement. “I mean, this is beyond the scale of anything we ever…”

The most inscrutable pieces of the puzzle are the words scrawled across the top of the page: FISSION CHAIN REACTION. The equations all relate to theoretical physics, not nuclear reactions. How would fission factor into any of it? Unless, somehow, that’s what one of the “events” refers to.

But no, that can’t be right. A fission chain reaction describes an ongoing process; he would never call the day-to-day functions of a nuclear reactor an “event” in space-time. It would have to be a specific instance – some kind of sudden, massive release of energy, something on the scale of Chernobyl, or…

He looks up. “Wait, where are you going?”

Abigail turns back to face him with a sour expression. “I’m going home.”

“But, we–" He gets to his feet with a slight wince. “We’ve gotta figure this out, if Theresa–”

“No, you’ve gotta figure it out,” she corrects. “I did what she asked, and I don’t want anything else to bloody do with you.”

He blinks. “But you– You're not even the least bit curious about-”

He shrinks against the wall when she whirls around to stomp toward him. She stops just short of shoving him, though, like reaching the end of an invisible tether. “I've done what she asked,” she repeats through clenched teeth. “So we're finished.”

And then she storms across the grass to a taxi in the parking lot and disappears without looking back.

------

The SUV is still parked by the hospital’s entrance, and so is Abaddon, who watches Daniel approach with a faintly amused look on his face.

“I’ll need full access to everything you have,” Daniel says. “Every single piece of intel Widmore has about the island.”

“Of course.” Abaddon opens the door for him.

“I’m not finished.” Daniel settles into the backseat and pauses to catch his breath while Abaddon gets behind the wheel. “There's some additional information that I… Things I can’t research on my own. Secrets that only someone with Widmore’s influence might be able to get their hands on.” He fiddles with the seat belt. “I mean, really secret stuff. Classified military operations, that sort of thing.”

“That can be arranged.” Abaddon’s eyes bore holes into Daniel’s forehead from the rearview mirror. “In the meantime, Mr. Faraday, I’m here to take you anywhere you’d like to go.”

“I gathered that.” Across the grass, the city bus he’d intended to board pulls up to the crowded stop. He could still make a run for it, theoretically, provided that his lung doesn’t give out halfway.

Instead, he digs his journal out of his pack and gingerly folds Theresa’s diagram to place it inside, along with the photographs he’d taken from his mother’s office in the church - more fragments of the bigger picture that refuses to fall into place.

He finds Abaddon’s eyes, still watching him expectantly. “Do you have a phone I can borrow?”

------

“So, your girlfriend can see the future?” Hurley says.

Daniel scratches his head. “…Yes?” He’s drowned out by a particularly loud truck speeding past on the nearby highway. “Not exactly,” he says instead once the sound fades. How any of the patients milling around the small green space of Santa Rosa can be unfazed by the constant road noise is beyond him.

Hurley waves away a fly from the half-eaten sandwich on his plate and slides his bishop across the chessboard. "Then, how'd she know where you'd be?"

"It's…hard to explain," he says, for what must be the fifth time since the start of their conversation. "Time doesn't move in a straight line for her, it…” His eyes land on the board game boxes stacked on the other end of the picnic table. “It's like a puzzle, with all the pieces switched around. Even though some of the shapes still fit together, the picture doesn't make any sense. But occasionally, a few of the right pieces match up with each other through pure luck, and you get a glimpse of how it's actually supposed to look."

Hurley stares at him blankly. "Uh…"

He shakes his head. "Essentially, a piece of her mind from sometime in the future happened to link up with her mind in the present. That future version of her was coherent enough to realize what was happening, which means that version of her must have gotten better somehow." He taps the sheet of paper on the table. "That's why she gave me this, so that I could set everything in motion to make that future a reality."

Hurley rubs one eye. "I still don't get what any of this has to do with the island."

Daniel stares at an empty square of the board. "I don't…fully understand it, either," he admits before absently making his next move. "But I know that the island can heal her, and that's reason enough to find a way back. I can figure the rest out later."

"Dude, I'm not sure going back is such a good idea," Hurley says with a frown as he captures the last of Daniel’s pawns. "Plus I'm not even sure how you would do it."

"That's…why I'm here, actually." Dan clears his throat. The DHARMA orientation photo from 1977 is still tucked between the pages of his journal, weighing down his pack like a chunk of radioactive metal. There will be no un-opening that can of worms, so he's saving it as a last resort; if all else fails, he can show it to Hurley as proof that the decision has already been made. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the board and picks a piece at random to move. "I think the key to getting back is you, and Jack, and Kate."

Hurley’s frown deepens. "What makes you think that?"

“It's hard to explain.” Daniel shifts awkwardly in his seat. “Uh, it’s your move.”

Hurley moves his queen. “How do you know the island will fix her in the first place?”

“Because… It’s what fixed me.” He clears his throat again in the uncomfortable silence and moves his knight another three spaces to block the queen’s path. "Before the island, I was… I– I had a condition that was…similar, to what Theresa's been living with."

“But, you weren’t in like a coma or whatever before the island, right?” Hurley guesses, to a hesitant nod from Dan. The queen takes the knight. "So, you must've gotten some better without it, right?"

"Yes, but…" He shakes his head and moves his one remaining rook. "It took years, of…specialists, and EM therapy, and–"

"Did you take her to the same specialists?"

He has to stop himself from saying that he could never have taken Theresa anywhere, not without incurring the wrath of her sister. "The process was…prohibitively expensive," he says, grimacing at how pathetic the excuse sounds.

Hurley doesn't seem to notice, or he doesn't care. "I can pay for it."

"I'm not asking you to do that,” Daniel says, shaking his head automatically.

“Why not?” Hurley leans back in his seat. “I don’t know if you keep up with the news, dude, but I’ve kinda got more money than I know what to do with. Even from in here,” he gestures to their surroundings.

Daniel shakes his head harder. “I really can’t ask you to do that. It’s not– This isn’t your responsibility, and besides, if her sister found out it was my idea, she’d never–”

“So don’t tell her,” Hurley says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Look, all I gotta do is talk to my parents, they talk to the finance guy, finance guy talks to the doctor or lawyer or whoever and then boom, everything’s covered.”

“Hurley–”

“So it’s settled!” Hurley says with a grin, like a gotcha, relief in his voice. “I'm gonna pay for it, and she's gonna get better, and then nobody has to go back to the island.” He looks down at the board, grins even wider, and sweeps his own rook across the board triumphantly. “Check and mate, dude.”

#lost #fanfiction #daniel faraday #abc lost #lost show #a place to call home #the way home

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thewritingrowlet · 12 days ago

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Hi. I have a question for you. When people ask you to write about a certain idol, you may not know that idol well, or you may not be interested in that idol, or you may even dislike that idol. Some writers have a set range of idols that they will write about, but even in those cases, I think the people who ask ask for idols outside of the list. What do you do when that happens? Do you decline? Or do you learn about that idol? Or do you just write because your liking for that idol has nothing to do with your creative work?

Hi, hello.

A big part of why I started writing fics was the fact that I have a lot of favorites but didn't see too many fics about them.

That said, there are idols that are people's favorites but not mine, so when requests to write about idols I'm not a fan of come to my inbox, the outcome is either I put the idea (since I think that a request is an idea) in a notepad for future reference, or I just ignore it if I simply can't see myself being a fan of that idol (because I'm not into their discography or the like).

I hope that makes sense.

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wirelychee · 4 months ago

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How I draft long plots

(I was once asked about this topic, and I thought I'd write an actual post about it. I don't know if the person who asked is around anymore, but I decided to post this just in case it might be useful for someone else. 🧡) ***

So, this is just a tiny little understatement, but I have a tendency to write REALLY long stories, and over time I’ve just kind of gravitated towards organizing my writing in a very specific way, and I thought I'd illustrate that process a little bit here (with pictures!).

I really hope that there's at least something useful here for someone! I do want to emphasize that everyone’s writing style/process is unique, and there are no right or wrong answers. In the end, it's best just to try various different things and then pick & mix whichever of them work for you! 😊💛

(I have no idea if anyone ends up reading any of this, but if you do I’d love to hear your thoughts and I’d be happy to answer any questions as well! 🌻)

Note: I originally posted this on my personal blog here, feel free to read or comment wherever you prefer! 🤗

1. Lightweight program for writing

I know a lot of people use google docs to write fanfics, but I personally never use it for any fictional writing (only when necessary for work or other official files). I really just do not vibe with gdocs on any physical, spiritual or virtual level... 😅

Instead I’ve written all of my fics using a very old program called Rough Draft*. The best part about using this type of simple & lightweight software is that I can always have many MANY long text files open in multiple tabs within the program without having any issues with lagging or loading at all. This makes all the different chapters easily accessible and it’s super quick to switch between them (seriously ZERO loading times).

This feature is absolutely necessary for me, since I write SUPER long chapters, and if I’m writing chapter 4 for example, I will always have at least chapters 3 & 5 open at the same time (+ usually many more chapters, or other fics I'm working on). The previous chapter is open so that I can look up specific parts that I might need to reference from it, and to check any details that I might’ve forgotten. The next chapters are usually open, because I often edit/cut parts from the current chapter and move them into future chapters that are still in progress.

Another feature that I use all the time is the "Notepad" tab, which automatically saves as a separate text file. It makes editing feel a lot less stressful, when I can just freely dump every single bit of deleted writing in the little notepad box, knowing that I could still easily dig them up later if I need to.

In this screenshot, you can see the "Pad" tab (a separate file of its own), where I've cut & pasted all the sentences I deleted from that chapter (ahah there's A LOT...).

(*unfortunately Rough Draft is very old & buggy at this point, so I do recommend finding a newer similar program to use instead. Also, I still have to use html-coding with it as well…)

2. Chapter index

I usually spend A LOT of time making sure the main plot is as easy to follow as possible (without sacrificing any suspension or complexity), because I personally feel like having a clear narrative flow improves reading immersion significantly.

Many of my stories have at least 10+ chapters and to keep track of them all (especially in a way that helps to organize the story into a coherent narrative) I usually make a separate chapter index file for each story I'm writing. That file basically serves as both a plot/chapter overview, and a central place to gather all the various potentially relevant info for the story.

Since I write Multi POV stories, 90% of the time I divide the chapters into different character sections, which honestly helps me to better understand the story as a whole as well. Under the titles or character names I write down basically anything that could be useful for that particular part (snippets of dialogue, research notes, new ideas, possible story changes, references/relations to other characters or events etc).

I decided to use an AtLA fic as an example here, since the notes for that fic look a lot more organized and less spoilery than for most of the other fics. The first pic below is a screenshot of the chapter index file for The Spirit Stone, showing a few chapters that I’ve already posted on ao3.

.....And if all of this looks like I'm making an unnecessary amount of lists, that's because that's exactly what I'm doing lol. 😂 I just genuinely like making neat lists of things! 🧡 I always make sure to also colour-code the different character POVs to make them appear more distinct from each other – and more importantly so that the list is nicer for me to look at heheh :3 (which is obviously very crucial).

(*Sokka got assigned a lovely lilac, bc Katara already had blue and Sokka didn’t have any other canon colour associations 😅)

Sometimes if I feel like the scene could be more interesting/relevant from a different perspective than I had originally planned, or if it seems like one character POV is becoming too dominant or repeats too many times, I go through these lists and try to figure out in which way I could change or move around the POVs without interrupting the pacing/narrative flow of the main story.

Here’s also an overview of another fic I’m writing (first half of Residually), in which I use the exact same style again for breaking down the different POVs. Like in above pic, I didn’t include any actual chapter notes here either, since they were super spoilery. (The plot & flashbacks in this fic are crazy intertwined, which I suppose is fitting for a story about an omniscient network of fungi lol :3)

3. Chapter notes

Above screenshots are overviews of multiple chapters, however, like I mentioned I removed the random chapter notes to make the example pictures look cleaner & less spoilery. While the writing is still in process, those individual chapter & POV headings are actually FULL of various notes & scribblings. And usually they look pretty messy too, since I just throw any potentially useful thoughts/ideas/research tidbits into those notes.

Things that I generally add to the chapter notes:

- first a list of potential POVs to figure out which characters should be prominent/are central to this chapter - under the POV headings, the main gist of what a character does or should do at this point in the story - some key conversation snippets/dialogue - important plots points that I need to keep in mind - research info that I want to include in the chapter/is relevant later - connections/references to some other part of the story - reminders of which POVs/sections are still unclear or need more work/edits - possible changes to the chapter/overall plot (if they're crucial changes they'll be accompanied by !!!!! and a red highlighter lol)

Below is a screenshot of (Spirit Stone) chapter 5 notes while it was still a work in progress (from early stages, I added more notes later).

Also here’s a screenshot of chapter notes for one of the newer fics that I’ve been writing (for Taxi Driver/모범택시, not sure if I’ll ever post it publicly though). I’ve obscured most of the actual text, but this is just to demonstrate that I use this same method all the time, and I write down A LOT of notes in this way, especially in the early stages when planning out a new story.

4. Major story arcs

I don’t use this kind of index very often, but occasionally I also do lists with notes like this about major story arcs spread over multiple chapters (the below pic is also of Spirit Stone). Sometimes this kind of list can be helpful to write down, or at least think about, if you're worried about dealing with many complex topics that might make you lose sight of the bigger overarching story. It’s enough to write just a few simple sentences about the main plot points/themes that you want to deal with in those specific chapters (but ofc they don’t need to be set in stone, the story can still change drastically even when half-way finished).

I don't usually use this during the first stage of drafting plots, to me this kind of list is mostly there as clarification or reminder about the overall structure/themes/goals of the story.

5. Writing the chapters (caution: worst method ever, not recommended 🚫)

So, usually the way I write the actual POV parts of the chapters is basically just writing an overlong rambly block of text (just a SHIT TON of text), with conversations & scenes often in non-linear order, and then painstakingly editing & arranging all of that into something more coherent and smoother to read (this is why it takes me absolutely fucken' forever to edit my stories, WAY longer than the writing itself ahah...). Tbh this process kind of feels like dragging in a big-ass log of wood, and then (like a dumbass) trying to whittle an elaborate sculpture out of it with a flimsy little pocket knife lol. :'))

Is this method a smart way to write? Nope, absolutely not. Is it incredibly ridiculously time-consuming? Oh yes, absolutely. Does it for some frustrating reason work for me? Yeah, unfortunately it does... Do I recommend it? Nope, never, please save yourself and be smarter than me. 🙃 ▫▫▫

Regardless of fandom or whether I’m writing original stories, my basic approach is the same. But like I mentioned before, organizing the chapters in this way was mostly born out of the fact that I usually write Multi POV stories with various alternating characters. Although, I’m sure you could definitely do this kind of categorizing with a single POV character too, if that’s more your kind of thing! :)

Just to reiterate, there are no right or wrong answers or methods. It's always good to try out different things and then eventually you'll find a process that works for you specifically! 😊🧡

#okay to reblog in case anyone wants to :)#writing #atla #my posts #my fics

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elvenbeard · 2 years ago

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I have too many VP ideas HELP. I need to write them down somewhere where I'll find them again so here we go, what is a blog if not a notepad?

Done:

part one of an attempt at making a big edit - gonna be a set of four pics, revolving around Vince's Arasaka past and how merc life is honestly the same shit, just a different packaging (the project I mentioned earlier this week that I needed a lot of pics for XD it's also inpsired by a song that fits him so well that I've been listening to non-stop on repeat basically for two weeks now xD) ✅ done!!

the harness photoshoot: gonna make two photosets here too, one a bit more clothed than the other xD ✅done!! :D

Currently in progress/still need to edit:

A photoset of V through the years (inspired by several other's amazing takes on this <3) - headcanon/lore posts for the most important moments or timeframes in his life -> pics taken, still need editing and writing though xD

V showing Kerry some of his favourite places in the city and vice versa -> started this, but now I wanna write something for everything too and aaahh xD

Some pics to accompany the post-canon fic I spontaneously started writing -> have a couple taken already, need editing still

Part two of the big edit thingy from above: with more song lyrics that just hit the spot XD -> have a few pics taken but might scrap and redo them

Currently not started on these yet, but the ideas are not leaving my head and/or have been with me for a bit (some a lot more complex than others):

Dirtbike tour through the badlands, because hell yes - would like to incorporate this in a little fic somehow, post-canon but not too far in the future

Just V chilling with Nibbles in the penthouse garden - the grass may be fake, but I think it's been a while for both of them since they touched grass and they deserve some peace and happiness XD (might incorporate this in the same story/ time frame as the idea above - we'll see!)

V and Kerry hanging out, listening to music

Kinky Kings (I am tempted to change their ship name ngl xD but I think I'll keep it and do a cool photoshoot instead)

Some promotional pics (sorta) for Kerry's new album (potentially in black and white? I'm not sure yet but I'd really like to do a bw set!!)

Not really a big VP thingy, but I've wanted to do a headcanon post about Kerry's cyberware, what all of it is and does and when/how he got it/ had to get it - need close up pics for some of that though (and any excuse to look at Kerry for prolonged periods of time honestly)

V and Kerry on a bike tour through the city at night - no deeper meaning here other than "let's blow off some steam" "okay :3" *five minutes later* "okay, this is not what I had in mind o.o but still fun!" (also Night City at night <3 but I have no idea yet how to pull it off with traffic and all probably running me over repeatedly as I set this up, but we shall see xD gonna be an interesting challenge for sure!)

More photo stories with V and Jackie, but no concrete ideas here yet

A photo story/ fic with pics of "that one perfect morning" I mentioned in a oneshot once, meaning the morning after Boat Drinks - also ties in a bit with the "favourite places" idea) - I am also tempted to do this as a comic instead, but don't even get me started on my comic ideas and all that's in progress there... the day needs more hours!

Also I wanna do more spicy stuff :3c but no concrete ideas here yet (maybe I'll redo the window photoshoot some time because with the graphics update their reflections might look even nicer... we shall see though!)

Road Trip with V and Kerry!!

Just some nice aesthetic model-y shots with Vince because he's pretty xD

#cyberpunk 2077 #don't know how to tag this aaah #vp ideas #so that I actually find it again when I'm looking for it

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xoteajays · 1 year ago

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tender: the bruise and the heart [ teen au ]

ship: karube daikichi x niragi suguru word count: ~12 200 words. ao3: link. tags: depictions of bullying, n/on-c/onsensual piercing, violence, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it internalised h/omophobia, kind-of ooc niragi because he’s in his pre-asshole ‘bullied teenager’ era.

—

When Karube gets expelled and transferred to a new school, he’s hoping to lay low and just make it until graduation. As fate would have it, that’s not what happens since he can’t stop himself from stepping in when he witnesses one of his new classmate’s getting baseballs lobbed at him by a group of bullies.

—

The fic idea that started it all. A ‘what if somebody was there to help Niragi when he was getting bullied in high school’ au/fix-it (fix-him) fic.

** reblogs, likes/kudos, and comments appreciated!!

—

other karube x niragi fics here!!

Another new school.

Karube doesn’t know how he’s the one that ended up punished. Sure, he’d been fighting, but those other guys had deserved it! Just because he’d come out on top and those jerks cried their crocodile tears, he was the one being sent away.

Lumped into the far back of his new classroom, he’s tapping his pencil on his notepad. All his ‘new peers’ have been avoiding even looking at him. He supposes he doesn’t blame them really. His blonde hair is clipped short. There’s a dark mottling of bruises over his knuckles and one on the line of his jaw. If he comes off looking ‘rough around the edges’, he doesn’t really care.

Effectively ignored for the foreseeable future, he sighs and slumps down in his seat.

It doesn’t matter. It’s one year. Then he’s out. One fucking year.

He’s walking home. It’s another part of his punishment, this time from his parents; grounded, he had to come right home after school for the next month. His backpack hangs loosely from one shoulder. He kicks a rock down the street as he walks. The rock rolls too far into the road and he abandons it, continuing along down the street. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck where the afternoon sun beats down on him.

There’s the sound of something hitting the wall of the underpass, then the hollering of disappointed boos. His brow scrunches and he turns to look down the slope. On one side is bunch of boys around his age, wearing uniforms like his own. One or two have baseball bats in-hand. On the other side, standing against the wall, is a lone boy with dark hair and glasses. He looks tense and kind of familiar, though Karube can’t quite place him.

Pausing to watch, Karube’s curious.

One of the boys plucks up a baseball, tosses it up and then - crack - hits it. The ball strikes hard into the collarbone of the glasses-wearing boy and he stumbles, but doesn’t fall.

Karube’s mouth twists in surprised disgust. What the fuck was going on here?

The group of boys all descend into laughter, cackling. One grabs the bat from his friend, picking up the ball that’s rolling back towards him. He swings the bat around loosely, Karube can’t head what he’s saying from this distance, but the lone guy stands even more stiffly. The ball’s tossed, hit, and it collides with the guy’s face, knocking him down.

Okay. That’s enough.

Karube drops his bag on the ground. He scoops up an inch-sized rock from the ground, bouncing it in his hand as he starts down the slope. He can hear the group’s taunting now and grits his teeth. These guys are sick. Pulling his arm back, he aims and then hurls the stone at the apparent leader. It’s strikes him above the brow, hard enough to break the skin.

“Gah! What the fuck?” The guy cries out, gripping his face. Karube scoops up another rock, this one larger.

“What? Isn’t this a fun game around these parts? Lobbing shit at each other? Sorry, I don’t have a baseball,” he says sarcastically. He aims another throw and pitches it; the stone collides with a bully’s guts and he immediately keels over.

“It’s that new kid,” one of the bullies says to his boss, “I heard he got kicked out of his last school for beating a bunch of guys up.”

So much for hiding his bad reputation. He shakes it off, tosses a stone up and catches it in his bruised hand. They’re at a stalemate. Karube’s still on the higher ground.

“I think you guys should start fucking off,” he calls over to them. The group looks at him, then the bleeding leader finally relent. He picks his bat up from the ground, nods for his group to start leaving.

“See you around, Niragi,” he calls to the boy by the wall.

Karube waits until they’ve walked away then hurries down the slope to the guy. ‘Niragi’, apparently. Karube thinks he’d seen him in class, sitting a few seats ahead of him. He crouches at his side. For a moment, his eyes pause on the wall. There’s an outline, smudged slightly, clearly battered by balls. His jaw sets, but he looks away and sets a hand on Niragi’s shoulder.

“Hey, are you o-“

Niragi shoves his arm away.

“Don’t you know what you just did? Everything’s just going to get worse now!” He snaps, voice thick. There’s blood dripping from his nose and over his lip, and tears in his eyes.

“I was just trying to help,” Karube argues back.

“Well, you didn’t.”

Niragi swipes a hand over his face, wiping away tears and smudging the blood. He gets to his feet and scoops up his bag and then he’s quickly walking away.

Karube scoffs lightly. He wasn’t necessarily expecting a ‘thank-you’, but maybe some kind of gratitude. Whatever.

Standing up, the toe of his shoe clicks against something. When he looks down, he notices the guy’s glasses and picks them up. By some cosmic luck after that baseball to the face, they’re not broken or even chipped. With a sigh, he folds the temples in and tucks them into his pocket.

He walks in through the front door of his home, sparing a quiet ‘hey’ to his parents before heading to his room. His bag gets dropped on his chair and he pulls the glasses out of his pocket, setting them on the desk. Shoving his uniform jacket off, he flops onto his bed, rubbing a hand over his buzzed hair.

He’s late getting home. He already knows he’s going to get another nagging, one-sided conversation from his father about ‘pulling his head in’. It wasn’t as if he didn’t get passing grades; even if they weren’t necessarily that good, he wasn’t failing any of his classes. He just wasn’t going to stand by and watch people get bullied. It wasn’t like the school was ever doing anything to stop it.

His mother calls him out to dinner and he heaves in a breath, readying himself for the nagging that was to come.

An hour later, he’s showered and sitting tense at his desk over his homework. His father’s words ring around in his head, making him grit his teeth. The disappointed tone, the look in his eyes, it makes Karube feel sick. He can’t even focus on his work. Flicking his books closed, he leans back in his seat.

His eyes settle on Niragi’s glasses. They’re a little dirty, the black frames and lenses smudged with gravel dust. He picks them up, swiping a thumb over the temple arm. Pulling open his desk drawer, he rustles around until he finds a small cloth.

It takes Niragi longer than he’d ever admit to realise he’d lost his glasses. He almost tears his room apart trying to find them, dumping his bag out on his bed, pulling open drawers, retracing his steps from front door to his bedroom. He searches the bathroom three times as if there was some nook he hadn’t checked.

Finally, it clicks.

They’d been knocked off at the underpass. Hadn’t he picked them up? He had to have. That guy had been there though. Had he forgotten to pick his glasses up when he’d been snapping at him?

His mouth curves in a grimace. He’d have to go back there tomorrow morning and search for them. His parents would be pissed if they found out he’s lost them. He’d just gotten a new pair after the bullies broke his last ones.

His sleep is fitful. He keeps opening his eyes to look at the clock on his bedside table. Getting up early in the morning, he dresses and skips breakfast.

The morning air is chilly against his skin as he walks to the underpass. He halts at the gravel slope, drawing in a shuttering breath. It’s been year now that the bullies had been dragging him down here and pelting him with baseballs. What had he ever done to deserve it?

He feels tears gather in his eyes and sniffs, starting down the slope to the underpass wall. He spares the outline of himself the shortest of glances before kneeling down to search for his glasses.

The longer he’s searching, the clearer it becomes that his glasses aren’t there. Tears sting his eyes, his hands and the knees of his uniform are dirty. If he doesn’t leave now, he’s going to be late for school. He curses, heaves in a hitching inhale, then stands to walk back up the slope.

When Karube walks into the classroom the next morning, his gaze turns over his classmates until he spies Niragi. He’s seated in the second row by the window, hunched over at his desk and flipping through a textbook. His eyes are squinting slightly and there’s a slight bruise on his face. For a moment, before he can stop the thought, Karube wonders about the rest of Niragi’s body. If he’s covered in bruises beneath his clothes.

How long had these bullies been doing this to him? Did he even get a chance to fully heal before he ended up with more bruises?

He shoves the thoughts away. Pulling the glasses out of his pocket, he sets them on Niragi’s desk as he passes, not even stopping to say anything.

Niragi’s head lifts, glancing at the returned glasses. He picks them up, surprised to find them clean and in good condition. Looking over his shoulder, he stares at Karube, brows furrowing. The blonde doesn’t look back at him, just slumps to sit at his desk and stare out the window.

Niragi turns back around, slips his glasses on, and turns his gaze down to his book again.

Lunch is only slightly better than after school. Niragi can’t escape the bullies even now in the cafeteria. He’s sitting by himself, like usual. Everyone else knows he’s the bullies’ punching bag and they don’t want to make themselves targets by associating with him.

He doesn’t care. It’s been a few years, he’s used to eating alone. He’s got the top grades in his class, so spending all his breaks studying and not hanging out with friends is apparently working for him. It’s a small comfort to know he’ll at least make it into a good university or college after high school.

He’s barely a few bites into his lunch when they show up. They crowd around him. The boss - Arata - slides into the seat next to him and throws an arm around his tense shoulders. He doesn’t look up to meet any of their gazes, just keeps staring at his food. His panicked heartbeat pounds in his ears, blocking out whatever taunts they’re throwing at him.

“You’re in my seat,” a new voice cuts in. Niragi glances out of the corner of his eye to see Karube standing there. He sets his lunch tray on the table across from Niragi’s. Feeling Arata’s arm tense, Niragi sets his jaw tight. This is bad. It’s going to be bad.

Karube sets his hands on the table, staring down Arata. The healing bruises on his knuckles are purple and green-ish.

“Whatever,” Arata says, tone clipped as he peels his arm off Niragi, “Let’s go.”

He stands, clapping his hand on Niragi’s shoulder. His fingers reach the fresh bruise high on his chest. Somehow he seems to know that fact and squeezes. Niragi swallows thickly, holding back a sound of pain. Arata releases him and the rest of the group follows him. Karube watches after them until they’re far enough away, then turns back to sit down. Niragi stares at him.

“What are you doing?” He asks, voice low and worried. Karube looks up at him.

“Eating lunch?” He replies, there’s a clear amused tone to his voice. Niragi’s mouth flattens into an unimpressed line.

“You should stay away from me.”

“Why?”

“Those guys … they’ll starts bullying you too if you hang around me.”

Karube huffs a short laugh: “I think I can handle them.”

“They’ll bully me worse because you’re protecting me. It’ll pissed them off.”

“Like I said, I can handle them.”

Niragi falls quiet. He picks around at his food, not really hungry any more. Karube’s quiet himself. He kicks his legs out under the table, his feet knocking against Niragi’s own. Niragi immediately pulls his feet away, tucking them under the chair. It’s a long few minutes of silence.

“Why are you trying to help me?” Niragi asks quietly, glancing up at him. Karube’s gaze turns up to him and he shrugs.

“Why not?”

After his last class, Karube rushes to leave, skirting around other students in the hall. At the doors out of the school, he peers out over the departing crowd until he spots Niragi. Hopping down the steps, Karube hurries off after him, soon falling into step at his side.

“Hey,” he says, hiking his bag up on his shoulder.

“Hi?” Niragi replies, confused.

They keep walking along quietly for a few minutes before Niragi starts to eye him.

“What are you doing?” He asks finally.

“Walking you home.”

A choked noise escapes Niragi, a slight pink flush blossoms up his throat.

“W-what?”

“Those guys, they ambush you when you walk home, right?” Niragi pauses, then nods quietly. Karube nods back. “Right. So I’ll walk you home, then they can’t drag you down to the underpass. And if they try, well, I’ll be around to stop them.”

“You really don’t have to -“

“It’s fine, I’m not busy.” His parents be damned; if all goes well, they should just be glad he’s not fighting. Against Karube’s insistence, Niragi relents, it doesn’t seem like it’ll be an easy task to get rid of him.

They walk mostly in silence. Niragi doesn’t know what to say to this guy, he doesn’t even understand really why Karube’s helping him at all. Nobody else ever had, or they hadn’t cared enough to so much as try. Karube doesn’t even know him, but here he is.

It’s not long before they’re getting close to the underpass and Niragi can see the group of guys waiting there. His shoulders tense and his hands grip tight around his backpack straps. Karube’s eyes focus in on them too, his lips curve into a frown. He steps around Niragi, putting himself between Niragi and Arata’s crew as they pass. Arata’s scowling from the second he sees the two together.

“You can’t protect him every day!” One of the bullies calls after them and Niragi’s stomach sinks like a stone. Karube’s hand lands on his shoulder, keeping him walking forward.

“Fuck off!” Karube hollers back, flipping them off over his shoulder without even looking back.

Behind their backs, one of them lifts his arm to lob the baseball at the pair, but Arata stops him.

Almost ten minutes later and they’re walking up to Niragi’s house. Karube pauses on the sidewalk, tucking his hands into his pockets. It’s a nice looking place, clean and well-tended, not that much bigger that Karube’s. Niragi turns back to Karube, chewing his bottom lip.

“Are you going to be okay walking home? Those guys will probably be waiting,” he says, concern lacing his tone. If Karube got beat up because of him …

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Hell, if I can’t fight them all, I bet I’m at least faster.” His tone is utterly relaxed, like he’s not worried at all. He even shrugs. Tugging a hand out of his pocket, he gives a small wave, then turns to head off. “See you tomorrow, Niragi.”

“O-okay.”

Niragi stares after him, his brows creased as he watches Karube walk casually away.

It continues like that for days.

Karube sits with Niragi at lunch and doesn’t stress the silence or push for answers about things Niragi would rather not talk about; like why Arata targeted him or how long it’s been going on or the worst they’ve ever done to him. In the afternoons, Niragi or Karube wait by the front of the school for the other to arrive so they can walk together.

For a while, Niragi worries that Karube will change his mind. That he’ll stop sitting with him or walking him home. That maybe he’ll see whatever thing that’s wrong with him that Arata sees.

Arata watches with a deepening scowl the entire time and his crew grows antsy without their usual plaything to beat around. They’ve even stopped waiting around by the underpass, knowing there was no point when Karube was always around to guard Niragi.

The cut above Arata’s brow is slow to heal, red and angry, and Karube gets a little thrill to see it; the wound’s a testament to his victory, and a reminder that Karube isn’t afraid to play dirty.

Friday afternoon, it’s been almost two weeks since that first Monday at the underpass. Karube and Niragi are walking shoulder to shoulder towards Niragi’s home in comfortable silence. Casting his gaze sideways, Karube looks over him; he’s watched that bruise on Niragi’s face heal over the last two weeks. Better still, Niragi’s perked up a little, standing a little taller with less hunched-in shoulders; Karube’s even managed a smile - though small - out of him once or twice.

He knocks his shoulder into Niragi’s.

“What are you doing this weekend?”

“Studying,” Niragi answers plainly. Karube laughs shortly.

“You’re always studying.”

“I’m not the top of the class for no reason.”

“You should have some fun.”

“I don’t …” Niragi trails off, mouth slipping into a frown. On the weekends, he was a homebody. The bullying didn’t relent just because it wasn’t a school day. It was easier to just stay home and avoid risking being caught by Arata. He can’t remember the last time he’d had any genuine teenage fun.

“What do you like? You know, there’s an arcade in town. A friend of mine, he used to like going to it, I was …” Karube drags a hand up the back of his neck, a surprising expression of embarrassment across his features, “I was never good at games like that.”

Niragi hums quietly, thumbing at the strap of his bag. He did like video games, he even had a solid collection at home.

“I don’t know why you’d want to hang out with me,” he confesses finally, “You protect me at school, which I already don’t get. I don’t know why wouldn’t just ditch me on the weekend, I would.”

“Well, believe it or not, but I don’t have a lot of friends either.”

“What about that one you just mentioned? The arcade -“

“We don’t talk. We haven’t in ages, since, like, middle school. He lives on the other side of town.” There’s a slight frown that etches itself onto Karube’s mouth, dark eyes forced forward on the path. There’s a pause, an uncomfortable silence.

“Fine,” Niragi says, breaking it.

“What?”

“Let’s go to the arcade this weekend.”

Karube smiles: “Okay.”

People weren’t wary of Karube anymore. Whatever initial fear they’d had of him due to rumours from his past school had died down over the last week. Unlike with Niragi, people actually spoke to Karube, most were even kind. They greeted him in the halls. Girls gossiped over him and giggled when he replied to their hellos.

Niragi’s sitting at his desk. They’re all supposed to be studying. He can hear a girlish laugh from behind him. When he looks back, his mouth twists in a small frown.

There’s a girl - Kazue - sitting beside Karube, sharing his desk. She’s leaning flush up against his arm, pointing to something in the textbook. There’s no reason for her to be sitting so close, Niragi thinks irritably, nor was there a reason for her to be giggling so much, nothing in the textbook was that funny. She’s pretty, which for some reason makes it more annoying to him. Karube doesn’t seem to mind though, he’s chatting quietly with her, leaning closer into her. He’s smiling.

Niragi watches and feels a twinge of … something. He didn’t know the word for it, but it ached as much as it burned.

Karube glances up, catching Niragi’s watching gaze. Immediately, Niragi whips back around in his seat and stares down at his book, though his eyes can’t focus on the words. His face burns with embarrassment at being caught.

He can feel Karube’s gaze searing into the back of his head, until he can’t. He instantly missing the feeling, wishing Karube was still looking at him.

He hears Kazue laugh again and his fingers clench hard around his pencil.

Late afternoon on a Tuesday, Niragi invites Karube inside after they walked home. Karube had been complaining about the math homework earlier in the day and Niragi offered to help him study. He fumbled on calling it a ‘study date’, not meaning it the way it sounded, even as a blotchy flush burned his cheeks. Karube either didn’t notice or feigned ignorance to leave him with whatever dignity he had left.

They’re sitting at Niragi’s dining room table, books spread out across the tabletop. Karube’s hunched over a textbook, frowning, his brow scrunching as he reads. They’ve been at it for almost two hours and Karube’s patience is clearly wearing thin if the sharp, quick tapping of his pen is anything to go by.

“Have you ever considered going to a cram school?” Niragi asks. He’d been enrolled in one when he was younger, but after the bullying started he quit to just study at home. Karube huffs a laugh out through his nose and leans back in his chair as he rubs his tired eyes.

“I was actually planning on dropping out after getting kicked out of my last school, but my parents wouldn’t let me,” he says, casual as ever.

Niragi isn’t really surprised. Karube didn’t seem the type that really enjoyed school at all, nor did he seem to see any reason for it. Dropping out was exactly the kind of thing he expected from Karube, though Niragi doesn’t doubt he would still find some way to make it through life.

It makes Niragi curious though. As much as they hadn’t actually talked about Niragi’s past of bullying, they hadn’t talked about why Karube had ended up at Niragi’s school in the first place. Shifting in his chair, Niragi toys with the page of his book.

“Why did you get expelled from your last school?” He asks, tone a little cautious, as if worried about crossing a line he shouldn’t. Karube glances at him, brow quirking then relaxing as he glances away again.

“Like you haven’t heard what everyone’s said about me,” he answers lazily, flicking his pen between his fingers.

“Fighting?”

“Yep.”

“The people you were caught fighting, were they -“

“Bullies. A real bunch of douche bags. Not as tough as they thought they were, but apparently that worked in their favour since they still go to school there and I got kicked out.”

Niragi shifts in his chair again, nervous as he poses his next questions.

“Do you … regret it? Do you wish you were still going there?”

Karube fixes him with a look, his gaze flicking over Niragi’s features, then he smiles in that way that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“No.”

A warmth blooms in Niragi’s chest, a small smile growing on his lips as he turns his attention back to his textbook.

Niragi’s late to lunch. He’d been held up talking to the teacher about part of the homework. By the time he’s heading out to the cafeteria, the halls are mostly empty. He’s moving quick, but he falters when he sees them.

Arata’s crew, just down the hall and in his way. He comes to a full stop in the hallway. He can’t just walk passed them, there’s no way thye’ll just let him passed. Thoughts race through his mind, he considers just turning and walking away. He could explain to Karube later.

His foot shifts a step back, but it’s too late. He’s already been seen.

Arata’s pushing off the wall and heading towards him. Despite his want to run, Niragi can’t help but freeze in place. The smile on Arata’s face has that edge of cruelty that Niragi is all too familiar with. The group flank him on all sides, circling like hungry dogs.

“Where’s your little friend now, huh?” Arata says. Niragi’s jaw locks, fear edging into his expression. Arata’s hand flies out to grab him by the front of his uniform, jostling him. The other four grin, Niragi can feel their eagerness like a sick aura engulfing him. “Come on, let’s go have some fun.”

Arata starts to drag him, Niragi plants his heels in the ground.

“Stop.” It doesn’t come out as loud as he wants, but he still says it.

It makes Arata freeze. The grip on his shirt tightens, white-knuckling.

“What did you just say?” He snarls, turning and leaning closer into Niragi’s face. Niragi fights against flinching. Arata’s other hand closes into a fist. There’s no teachers around, and his group would back up whatever he said happened; both him and Niragi know that.

Niragi braces, waiting for the impact.

Suddenly, a hand grips the back of Arata’s collar, wrenching him away. His hand is yanked from Niragi’s uniform, though not before jerking him forward into a stumble. When Niragi looks up, he finds Karube standing there, stepping in between him and Arata.

His hands are curled into fists, shaking slightly.

A thought hits Niragi; if Karube’s caught fighting, he’s probably going to get kicked out of this school too. It sends an icy feeling through Niragi. If Karube gets expelled, Niragi’s back to having no protection.

The thought appears to occur to Karube too since he turns and takes Niragi by the arm, pulling him along down the hallway towards the cafeteria.

“They didn’t do anything, did they? Are you okay?” Karube asks, voice tight.

“Are you?” Concern laces Niragi’s tone, his feet stumbling from the quick pace Karube’s sets.

Karube breathes out through his clenched teeth, his grip loosens on Niragi’s arm and his steps slowing. A shake of his head like he’s clearing his thoughts, then Karube’s familiar smile is coming back, aimed at Niragi.

“Yeah, all good.”

He doesn’t say how worried he was when Niragi didn’t show up at lunch, or how that worry turned into white-hot anger when he saw Arata grabbing him. Even now, it burns under his skin. Even now, he wants to turn around and go swing a punch directly into Arata’s face.

“You ever think of growing your hair out?” Karube asks one day.

They’re sitting on the couch at Karube’s place. His parents aren’t home and they have the place to themselves. Niragi is the only one of the two actually studying, Karube had given up over a half-hour earlier and was leaning back laxly. Niragi looks up, freezing slightly when he feels Karube’s hand reach out and twist a strand of his hair around his finger.

“Huh?” Niragi shakes out, tries to steady his heartbeat that has suddenly started pounding.

“Yeah, like, if you grew it out, long enough to tie it back like,” Karube sits up, shifting closer to Niragi. In return, Niragi eyes him, curious but sitting still. Karube’s hands lift, carding through Niragi’s dark hair to pull it back from his face. A smile splits across his lips, Niragi’s hair is soft. “It’d look good on you.”

A tingling sparks through Niragi’s scalp where Karube’s fingers had brushed through his hair. He almost trembles underneath the feeling. His heartbeat’s fluttering hummingbird-quick in his chest. He pulls out of Karube’s grasp, trying to force the flush out of his skin.

“Shut up,” he answers, trying to keep his voice steady, adjusting his glasses like he could hide the pink in his cheek. Karube’s hands drop into his lap and he leans back into the couch, laughing.

“I’m serious! You’d look good with longer hair. Plus if you tie it up, then you can’t hide behind it.” Karube lifts a hand to again tug on a strand of Niragi’s bangs that falls in his face. “You’re a pretty guy when you’re not hiding behind your hair, you know?”

Niragi shoves his hand away, his face getting hotter. Karube has to just be teasing him now.

“Will you just get back to studying?”

Another laugh rumbles from Karube and he bumps against Niragi’s side as he sits back up to grab his textbook.

“Whatever, pretty boy.”

Karube feels bad. He’s sure this isn’t something Niragi wouldn’t do if Karube hadn’t called him out. It’s late in the night. The both of them have snuck out. Well, Niragi snuck out. Karube stormed out after another argument with his parents; about his grades, about his actions, about his future. It’s close to driving him insane.

He’s decided to find his relaxation in his dad’s beers that he’d stolen, and in Niragi’s company.

They’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, hidden away and hanging out about 15 minutes from Niragi’s place. The only light that have is from the street lamp on the street a few feet away and the moonlight. Niragi watches as Karube downs the last half of his second beer and quirks a brow, sipping at his own beer.

“Your parents really got to you, huh?” He muses. Karube crumples his can, shoving it in his bag to dispose of later on his way home.

“They’re just so fucking pushy,” Karube sighs out. He rakes his fingers over his scalp, through his short hair. Shaking his head, he tries to force the thoughts away. Picking up his third beer, he cracks it open. He bumps his shoulder up against Niragi’s with a smile. “You know, they should really be thanking you.”

Niragi’s brow scrunches, confused.

“What for?”

“Well if it wasn’t for you, I would’ve dropped out already. You’re the only reason worth sticking around, Niragi.”

Niragi blinks owlishly at him from behind his glasses. Karube notes the way the moonlight plays across his skin, catching on all the angles of his face. His dark hair is falling in his face again. Karube lifts a hand to push one side of his bangs out of the way of his glasses.

In a flash, Niragi plunges forward and kisses him.

Karube is too stunned to react. His hand is still hovering near Niragi’s face, the strand of hair slipping out from between his fingers. He can taste the beer on Niragi’s mouth. Niragi’s lips are soft against his. Karube doesn’t even have the chance to kiss back before Niragi pulls away.

There’s a panicked, bordering on fearful, look in Niragi’s eyes. He jolts to his feet, accidentally knocking over his beer in the process. It clanks and fizzes, spilling out on the concrete.

“Niragi -“ Karube starts softly.

“I have to go.” Niragi cuts in quickly. His shoulders are tense, his hands are gripped into fists at his sides.

“Wait, just -“

Niragi is running off before Karube can even get to his feet.

Gathering up the beer cans, Karube stumbles home in a daze, lead along only by muscle memory. His mind is too full of other thoughts to really focus on getting home. He dumps all the cans of beer, full and empty, in a bin as he passes.

Sneaking back inside his house, he’s moving like being drawn on a string all the way to where he dresses in his pyjamas and climbs into bed, staring up at the ceiling.

He can still feel Niragi’s lips on his all the way up until he falls into a fitful sleep.

Karube walks to school with knots tied in his gut. All night after he got home, he tossed and turned, restless in his sleep. Part of him worries Niragi won’t be there today. He doesn’t want to have to go to his house. He’s not sure that Niragi would even open the door for him.

What was he supposed to say to Niragi? He’d run away last night before Karube could say anything. That scared look in Niragi’s eyes flashes through his mind and he almost flinches at the memory, rubbing his hand over his face.

Did Niragi think Karube was going to hit him?

That makes him feel sicker.

Walking into the classroom, he sighs with relief seeing Niragi sitting at his desk. That relief is short lived though. As he walks over, Niragi doesn’t look up at him. His body is stiff and tense, hunched over a textbook, pointedly focusing on it. Karube’s steps falter. His brows pinch. There’s an aching in his chest.

He forces his feet forward, forces himself to his chair and sits stiffly in it. His eyes settle on the back of Niragi’s head. He wishes Niragi would turn around, that he’d look at him, that he’d see Karube wasn’t angry or disgusted or whatever horrible assumptions are swirling in Niragi’s head.

Niragi doesn’t look back even once. Karube can’t focus during any of his lessons all the way up to lunch.

In the cafeteria, Karube walks up to table where Niragi sits alone.

“Can I sit?” He asks. Niragi’s silent. “Can we talk about it? Later? When we’re walking home?”

Niragi finally looks up.

“You still want to walk with me?” He asks, his voice quavers. Karube’s brows quirk, surprised by the question. His gaze softens.

“Yes. Of course.”

Arata watches from across the cafeteria. Karube and Niragi, his biggest irritant and his punching bag. Karube’s obnoxious smug heroism pissed him off; worse was his influence that was rubbing off on Niragi. That little ‘stop’ rings in his head, an infuriating echo that he can’t block out.

Who did Niragi think he was? He was nothing, a bug, supposed to be crushed under Arata’s foot and be crushed silently. Who was he to tell Arata anything? To tell him to ‘stop’? It’s Karube in Niragi’s head, Arata will force him out - by any means and he had many at his disposal.

Arata’s got ideas, he’s been plotting for weeks. Karube can’t always be there to protect Niragi and Arata will strike when the time is right.

Today, it seems that opportune time is turning it’s head.

“Lover’s quarrel, huh?” He drawls out, head tilting as he watches the duo. They’d been acting oddly around each other all day. His group chortles. Arata sits up straighter, casts his gaze on his crew. “We do it this afternoon. Don’t fuck it up.”

By the last bell, Karube’s hurrying to pack his stuff away. Niragi’s standing quietly by his desk, fiddling with the strap on his bag. He crams the last book into his bag and swings it onto his shoulder, turning to start walking out of the classroom with Niragi when he almost runs into a girl. Rie, he thinks her name is, she’s one of the quieter girls who sits at the back of class on the opposite side of the room.

“Hey, Karube, can I … talk to you?” She asks, her voice meek. Karube blinks, confused. They’d never spoken before. He only even knows her name because of the teacher calling on her.

“Uh, sure?” Rie stares pointedly at Niragi and Karube sets a hand on his bicep, “I’ll meet you at the gate?”

Niragi stares back at Rie, but soon relents, nodding stiffly and walking out of the classroom. Karube shifts his bag, looking back to the short girl. She seems nervous for some reason; her eyes flicker around, she gnaws her bottom lip. His stomach twists, he’s hoping this wasn’t a confession, he’s already got enough on his plate right now.

“So? What is it?” He asks, antsy to get this over with.

“It’s, um, Mister Seno, he w-wanted to see you. Something about your homework, I think …” she trails off. Her voice is tinny and small. She’s still looking around, not at him. Karube’s brows crease. Was she usually this weird?

“Okay? Thanks?”

Mr Seno was the math teacher. Niragi had been helping Karube study, so hopefully whatever Mr Seno wanted to see him about was good news. Hopefully, it would be quick. He turns heel, hurrying towards the door.

“Karube?” Rie calls after him. He pauses at the door, looking back at her. Her expression flickers, eventually it settles into something grim. “N-never mind.”

Weird. He just nods in reply and leaves.

Niragi heads down the hall, frowning. What did Rie want to talk to Karube about? He’d never even seen them interact before and now she was so insistent on talking to him? And alone, no less? He sighs, pulling on bag strap.

It gives him a chance to think about what he was going to say, at least. He’d been turning an apology over in his head since last night, he couldn’t even sleep. It didn’t help that he didn’t really regret the kiss. There’s a large part of him that wants to do it again. He can still recall the softness of Karube’s mouth, that ‘something’ taste beyond beer that he couldn’t place.

He stops at the school gate, sighing and taking off his glasses so he can rub his hand over his face. What the hell was he supposed to say? Make an excuse that he was drunk? What if Karube didn’t want to be around him anymore, and this was the last time he’d be walking with Niragi?

So distracted by his thought, he doesn’t notice people walking up to him until a hand is gripping his shoulder. Jolted back into reality, panic flares in Niragi’s eyes. Arata’s crew, but pointedly missing Arata. Cruelty shines on Saguchi’s face as he hooks his arm around Niragi’s neck.

“Looks like your little boyfriend isn’t coming, guess you’ll have to come with us,” Saguchi says.

Niragi tries to struggle out of his grip and Saguchi responds with a punch into his side, making him wheeze and keel.

Closing his hand over Niragi’s mouth, Saguchi starts to drag him back towards the school. Imaeda grabs his other arm to help pull him along. He feels someone grab at his bag and yank it off him, but he’s powerless to stop them.

In a half-jog, Karube rushes down the hallway. Mr Seno should be at the teacher’s lounge if he’s even still here. It’s out of the way and Karube’s a little annoyed to have to rush across the school and away from the front gate where Niragi’s waiting for him. He makes it there soon enough and slows, taking a few breaths.

Knocking, he steps inside, heading to Mr Seno’s desk and stilling by it. Mr Seno looks over, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he tapped a set of paper into a neat stack and slips them into his bag, clearly readying to leave for the day.

“Yes, Karube?” He asks. Karube’s brow scrunches. Why did he seemed surprised if he’s asked for him?

“Rie said you wanted to see me,” he replies, a little confused, hooking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his classroom. Mr Seno frowns.

“I didn’t ask to see you.”

What? His mind races. That weird look on Rie’s face, the mumbling, and apparently she’d been lying? What was her deal? He shakes it off. Forget it. He doesn’t have time for this right now.

“Oh. Must have been a mix up then. Uh, see you tomorrow, Mr Seno.” He fumbles out quickly. Mr Seno stares after him, confused, as he rushes out of the teacher’s room.

Karube all but sprints down the halls, hopping down the front steps and taking long strides over to the front gate. He stops to look around. Niragi’s not there. He frowns. Had Niragi left without him? The thought makes his stomach sink. He really needed to talk to him, to make him understand his side of it. His teeth worry at his bottom lip.

Turning, he looks around, as if he’d missed Niragi waiting somewhere. Instead, he finds something else.

Niragi’s bag, held in the hand of Ota, one of Arata’s lackeys. At Ota’s side is Kanemoto, the tallest in Arata’s group. Both are smirking. Ota swings the bag in hand, a taunt. Karube scowls.

Ota and Kanemoto share a look, release cackling laughs, and then they’re running off around the far corner of the school’s front. Karube shucks his bag and jacket off, rushing after them with a shout to stop.

Imaeda and Saguchi haul him along down the hallway. Niragi tries to plant his feet on the ground, tries to dig his heels in, but nothing works. They kick his legs out from under him, just keep yanking on him. Their fingers dig into him, he’s sure those alone will bruise. If he even gets out of this alive.

Who knows what Arata has in mind. Niragi didn’t need to be a mind reader to know Arata must’ve been stewing in anger for the last few weeks. He’s had so much time to plan something hellish.

They’re heading towards the old side of the school, the part that was closed off and being renovated. Students weren’t supposed to go there, but clearly Saguchi and Imaeda don’t care. It’s dingy and the old lights are dim and yellow. Niragi’s chest heaves, he can’t help the distressed sound escaping him that muffles into Saguchi’s hand.

The duo haul Niragi into the old boy’s bathroom. The lights flicker above them, but that’s not that part that makes Niragi’s skin go cold.

Arata’s leaned up against the sinks, flicking a lighter on and off. The small yellow flame underlights all the lines of his cruelly smirking face. He flicks the lighter off.

Saguchi releases Niragi and Imaeda hauls him in front of Arata, shoving him down to kneel on the cracked tiles. His knees sting from the force of which they hit the ground. There’s an icy tremor that rocks down Niragi’s spine. Arata leans forward, clicks the lighter on right in front of Niragi’s face, close enough that Niragi can feel the sting of warmth on his nose. He tries not to flinch.

“You know, I’ve had a lot of time to think, Niragi, and you really pissed me off,” Arata says, flicking the flame out. His tone is surprisingly smooth in a way that makes Niragi want to hurl. A calm Arata was never good, a calm Arata was exceedingly cruel. “But I finally figured out what I wanted to do. A fitting punishment, I think, for you talking back to me.”

He reaches a hand into his bag that’s sitting in the sink beside him. Out of it, he pulls a long silver tool. It looks a bit like forceps, the ends shaped like loops. He clacks them in Niragi’s direction.

“Did you know my cousin’s a piercer? I borrowed some stuff from him,” He says with a grin.

Niragi wants to run, but Imaeda is still holding his shoulders, pinning him in place. Arata turns again, picking through his bag before pulling out a small plastic box. He flicks it open and pulls out a long hollow needle. Niragi shakes. Arata turns it in his fingers, then holds the needle out to Niragi, who just stares at it.

“Take. It.” Arata’s tone is serious. Niragi’s still frozen. Imaeda kicks him in the side of his thigh. Niragi’s hand trembles as he reaches up to take the needle. He feels like he can’t breathe. This can’t be happening right now. He doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to do, what Arata expects him to do.

Suddenly, Imaeda’s hand wraps around the back on Niragi’s neck, holding his by the scruff. He crouches down beside Niragi and grabs his hand to hold it steady.

“Shit. You know, I don’t think I brought any of that sterilisation stuff. This’ll work though, right?” Arata says, mock apologetic and waving the lit lighter around.

Niragi whimpers. He can feel tears prickling behind his eyes.

Imaeda’s hand grips his tighter, his fingers digging into his flesh, moving Niragi’s hand where Arata wanted it. Arata leans in, holding the flame over the needle. It’s too close to Niragi’s hand, he can feel the bite of the heat. If he has burns later, he wouldn’t be surprised. He struggles against Imaeda’s grip, but Imaeda’s stronger.

Finally, Arata pulls the lighter away, putting the flame out.

“Saguchi?” Arata says. Saguchi, who’d been standing by and watching, just nods.

He crouches down at Niragi’s other side and grabs him roughly by the jaw. Digging his fingers into Niragi’s cheeks, he forces his mouth open. He hooks the fingers of his free hand into Niragi’s mouth over his bottom teeth, forcing his mouth open wider. It makes Niragi’s jaw hurt, like it’s going to break out of place. Niragi’s breath puffs out shakily.

Arata plucks up the forceps again, clicking them, then shoves them in Niragi’s mouth to grab his tongue. He pulls Niragi’s tongue out passed his lips, clutching it tightly between the metal clamp.

“Go on, Niragi, do it,” Arata orders. Niragi can hear Saguchi and Imaeda laughing beside him. He feels like he’s going to pass out. “Do it!”

Niragi doesn’t even feel the pain. He feels the pinch, tastes metal but he can’t tell if it’s the needle or blood. Maybe it’s adrenaline, some part of his brain registers that it hurts, but he’s panicking too much to feel it.

“He actually fucking did it!” He hears Saguchi cackle out, but it’s muffled by his heart pounding in his ears.

“Here, lemme give you a hand,” Arata says, his grin is all cruel white teeth. Niragi can barely see it. There’s black edging into his already tear-blurry vision.

Arata jams a ball-headed piercing in the hollow end of the needle, then wretches it through. Niragi’s stomach jerks. He twists the other side of the piercing on, then tugs on the forceps, looking at the glint of silver between the blood.

“Maybe you’ll think about this the next time you try to talk back to me,” Arata says coldly. He finally releases the clamp, then claps his hand roughly into the side of Niragi’s face.

With a lurch, Niragi hunches forward and throws up. He didn’t eat lunch, so it’s all bile and blood. Arata, Saguchi and Imaeda all leap away from him, hurtling insults in disgust. Someone foot connects with his side. Niragi hears them laughing as they leave, the door swinging shut behind them.

Still kneeling on the cold floor, Niragi sobs, his body heaving. The sounds echo around the room, engulfing him on all sides until it’s all he can hear.

Karube’s fast. He always has been. Catching up with Ota and Kanemoto is easy; it’s made easier when they come to a complete stop. Ota drops Niragi’s bag aside. Kanemoto’s stretching out his arms. As Karube approaches, he rolls his neck, readying himself for a fight.

Karube knows he shouldn’t. If a teacher catches them, he’s fucked. He’s got too many hits on his record. His parents will be pissed if he gets expelled again.

Somehow, none of that matters to him right now. His chest heaves, more from the worried pounding of his heart than the chase.

“Where’s Niragi?” He says, his voice sharp and serious. It’s the only warning they’re going to get, the only chance to answer him while they’re still uninjured.

“You should’ve stayed out of our business. Whatever Arata’s doing to him now, it’s your fault,” Ota taunts.

“Where is he?” Karube thunders.

Neither answers. Kanemoto rolls his shoulders. Ota’s bounces on his feet, readying himself.

If they wanted a fight, then a fight was what they were going to get. Karube’s hands close into fists and he’s landing a punch into Kanemoto’s jaw as the taller rushes towards him.

It’s a two-on-one, but Karube’s not going down easy. It’s not the first time he’s had to hold his own against more than one opponent. He feels the battering of punches, but he keeps snapping back. Kanemoto’s tall and strong, but he’s slow; Karube knows the punches he lands are going to bruise terribly, they’re already aching. Ota’s short but quick, he kicks in the backs of Karube’s knees, trying to drop him. Karube stumbles, but doesn’t topple.

Karube lands a solid elbow into Ota’s nose and feels blood spatter, staining the elbow of his shirt. Ota falls back with a yowl. Quickly, Karube slams his heel out into Kanemoto’s knee, hard enough to hear a crack and Kanemoto drops too, groaning and gripping his leg.

Turning, he kneels and grabs Ota by the shirt, wrenching him up. Tears are welled in Ota’s eyes, there’s blood spilling out from behind the hand that holds his nose. Karube could care less if he’s broken the guy’s nose. Niragi had probably had worse done to him before by Ota’s own hands.

“Where did Arata take Niragi?” He asks, lips peeled back in a teeth-baring snarl. Ota makes a pained noise, Karube shakes him roughly to refocus his attention.

“The boy’s bathroom. Th-The abandoned one, in the older part of the school,” Ota fumbles out, blood dripping over his lips.

Karube shoves him back to the ground. Standing, he glances at Kanemoto and then cracks a kick into his side for good measure, knocking him onto the ground too. Leaving them there, Karube scoops up Niragi’s bag and quickly rushes off.

There’s panic rattling around in his chest. His feet pound on the ground as he runs. His body’s aching, but he barely notices it. All that’s running through his mind is getting to Niragi, hopefully in time before anything awful happens to him.

Karube pauses in the hall of the old part of the school. His chest is heaving, his body aches. He hasn’t been in this part of the school. Which direction was the bathroom in? In a slow jog, he starts down the hallway. Niragi’s backpack swings in his hand.

From far down the hall, Arata, Saguchi, and Imaeda stroll from around the corner, laughing amongst themselves. Karube’s eyes narrow into a glower. Rushing forward, he grabs Arata by the front of his shirt, slamming him into the nearest wall. Arata doesn’t seem fazed beyond being slightly bothered that Karube’s wrinkling his uniform.

“Where’s Niragi?” He snaps. Arata head turn to glance at his friend, the trio cackle.

“Do you really want to waste your time beating us up? When Niragi’s waiting for you?” He asks, taunting.

Karube’s shoulders tense. He wants to punch the smirk off Arata’s face. Instead, he pulls Arata forward to slam him back into the wall hard enough that his head bounces off it, then twists to throw him to the ground. He leaves Saguchi and Imaeda to fuss over Arata. Grabbing Niragi’s bag from where he’d dropped it, he hurries off down the hallway, his eyes scanning to find the bathroom.

Finally he spies it and rushes to it, shoving the door open and stumbling inside. What he finds makes him feel sick.

The lights are dim and flickering, casting everything in eerie dark shadows. There’s a pool of blood on the ground by the line of sinks. Something thin and metallic glints on the ground, covered in blood. Up against the far wall, Niragi is sat up and curled in on himself, his chin to his chest, his forehead resting on his pulled-up knees. His glasses are on the ground beside him.

Karube rushes over, crouching in front of him, setting the backpack on a clean part of the floor. His hands hover over, afraid to touch Niragi unless he hurts him.

“Niragi. Fuck - what happened? Are you okay?” He asks, panicked.

“Where were you?” Niragi’s voice wobbles out quietly. He doesn’t look up, curling tighter in on himself.

The question is a stab to Karube’s heart.

“I - I’m sorry, I -“ What could he say? What answer could possibly make it okay that he hadn’t been here to stop whatever Arata had done to him?

Karube’s hands reach out to softly touch Niragi’s shoulders, sliding down over his biceps. Niragi’s entire body trembles with a wet sob. Finally, slowly, he looks up and Karube sucks in a sharp breath.

There’s faint bruises dug in on his paled cheeks, and blood on his mouth, it’s smudged around where he’s clearly tried to wipe it off and only succeeded in smearing it. There’s wet streaks of tears down his cheeks, muddled with the blood. His dark eyes are rimmed red.

“Fuck,” Karube whispers again, reaching a careful hand to Niragi’s cheek, swiping his thumb gently through the lines of tears and smudged blood. Niragi flinches under his touch. “What did they do to you?”

The question brings another round of tears to Niragi’s eyes, they catch on his fluttering eyelashes. Slowly, Niragi opens his bloody mouth, sticking out his tongue. Sat right in the middle of it is a round piercing, surrounded by swelling, bloody flesh. The sight of it stuns Karube into silence.

“They made me do it,” Niragi says, his voice barely above a whisper before cracking into a sob.

Karube wants to kill them.

“You should have just stayed away from me,” Niragi chokes out, wrenching out of Karube’s grasp and curling back in on himself.

It stings. It stings because Karube knows he’s right.

This is his fault.

Gathering Niragi onto his feet, Karube’s silent. He doesn’t know what to say. There’s nothing he can say. Under the weight of the guilty, he can barely stand to look at Niragi. He forces himself to, he watches as Niragi cleans up his face as best he can in the old mirror. Under the flicking dim lights, he looks ghostly pale, it makes the new red bruises stand out. There’s blood staining into the white collar of his uniform.

Karube feels sick.

He wants to reach out, to try and give Niragi some kind of comfort, but he doesn’t want to make anything worse. He doesn’t even know if Niragi would let him touch him. His hand hovers slightly as they walk down the halls, ready to catch Niragi’s arm if he stumbles. At the school’s gate, Karube scoops up his own bag and jacket.

They’re both silent for a long part of the walk towards Niragi’s home until Karube finally speaks up.

“You should come stay at my place tonight,” he says. Niragi looks sideways at him.

“Why?” His voice is rough and raw.

“Do you really want your parents to see you like this?”

Niragi sighs, touching his fingers to his aching jaw.

“And maybe we can figure out something to do about the …” Karube trails off, glancing at Niragi’s mouth.

“What about your parents?”

“They won’t mind; and they won’t be home until late anyway, so you can get cleaned up before then. Besides, they like you, I would’ve dropped out without you, remember?” Karube tries to force a hint of humour into his tone, his smile pinched.

Niragi doesn’t reply, just casts his gaze on the ground in front of him as he walks. Karube wilts. The smile drops, his shoulders sink. They go back to walking in silence.

Niragi’s standing in Karube’s bathroom. He’d called his parents and explained he’d be staying over Karube’s for the night. Now, he’s in the bathroom and the door’s locked and the lights are almost painful in their brightness. Karube had given him some clothes to change into and taken Niragi’s uniform shirt with the offer to try and get the blood out of the collar. It’s obvious Karube is fumbling to help in any way, struggling between giving Niragi space and crowding him.

Finally alone, Niragi stares at himself in the mirror. He tugs his glasses off, setting them on the counter by the borrowed pyjamas. There’s a few light bruises on his skin, mostly where Saguchi had been digging his fingers into Niragi’s cheeks. His jaw still hurts, but not as badly as his tongue.

He trembles.

He doesn’t want to look. He knows he has to.

With a shaky inhale, he steadies his hands on the counter, leaning towards the mirror. Opening his mouth, he stares in the dark maw for a moment before slowly poking it tongue out. A quiet noise escapes his at the sight.

The piercing is sitting snug in the middle of his tongue, all around it the flesh is swollen and red. The whole walk to Karube’s house he could feel the piercing hitting the roof of his mouth and against his teeth. He feels like he’s going to be sick again.

Tongue ducking back in, he claps his hand over his mouth to muffle the sobs rushing up his throat. He doesn’t want Karube to hear him crying again. Sinking to the ground, he feels hot tears spilling down his cheeks, settling against his fingers. He trembles all over.

What had he ever done to Arata? Why did Arata hate him so much? What did Arata see in him that was so twisted that he deserved this?

After a few minutes, he pulls himself together. He wipes his tears away, sniffling quietly. When he stands, he glances in the mirror again. His face is blotchy and red and bruised.

He showers, dresses, then takes a breath at the door before stepping out.

Karube can’t stay still. Niragi is closed up in the bathroom. Left to himself, he paces back and forth. He’d already cleaned out the blood from Niragi’s shirt and thrown it in the wash, and made up a futon on the ground beside his own bed. Now, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to help Niragi. This wasn’t a baseball to the face or simple punches. They’d made him pierce his own tongue. Then they’d just left him there. On the ground. In some shitty, dark school bathroom. They’d been laughing about it.

He rakes in nails over his scalp. Ota’s words bounce around his skull.

‘Whatever Arata’s doing to him now, it’s your fault.’

Karube had been beating up Ota and Kanemoto while they were doing that to Niragi.

‘It’s your fault.’

He hadn’t been there. Niragi had needed him and he hadn’t been there. Niragi was hurt and Karube hadn’t been there.

‘Your fault your fault your fault your fault.’

He presses his face into his hands, crumpling onto the couch. He needs to put his mind elsewhere, he needs to be thinking of someway to help Niragi. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he sucks in a deep inhale, then sits up to drag his laptop closer.

When Niragi leaves the bathroom about ten minutes later, Karube is frowning. Everything he’s been reading hasn’t been all that good. He glances up when Niragi steps out, and closes his laptop with a short clack.

“Are you …” No, obviously he’s not ‘okay’ on the typical sense, how could he be? Karube corrects himself quickly, “Do you feel okay? Does it still hurt?”

Niragi’s tongue shifts behind his teeth, there’s a small pang of pain whenever the piercing bumps against any part of his mouth. He grimaces slightly, then just shrugs. Karube nervously rubs his hands together.

“I was,” he swallows, clearing his throat and nodding towards his laptop, “I was looking some stuff up and I - I don’t think it’s a good idea to remove it right now.”

Niragi just nods silently, but Karube can see how his shoulders droop. It makes Karube’s chest ache.

Dinner’s awkward. Both Karube and Niragi are quiet through the whole thing. If Karube’s parents notice the light bruises on Niragi, they at least don’t ask. Seeing the twinge of pain every time Niragi talks, Karube makes the excuse that they’re tired from school so his parents will stop asking Niragi polite questions.

They head off to Karube’s room shortly after dinner.

Niragi lies down on the futon, curling up under the covers. Karube stares at him, sighing quietly as he flicks the light off, mumbling a ‘good night’ as he climbs into his own bed.

He can’t sleep. He’s just lying in the dark. From the sound of it, Niragi can’t sleep either. He shifts around, Karube can hear the rustling of the covers. There’s a quiet noise, an almost-silent pained whimper. Karube wonders if it’s because of his mouth or if they’d beat him up too while Karube wasn’t there.

Ota’s voice enters his head again, whispering blame. Niragi’s voices joins it.

‘Your fault’. ‘You should have just stayed away from me’. ‘It’s your fault!’

There’s a prickling behind his eyes that he tries to blink away. His jaw sets tight. Glancing over as he hears Niragi moves again, he finds the other facing away from him.

Karube slips down from his bed, onto the futon behind Niragi. He wraps his arms around him and presses his face into the back of Niragi’s neck.

“I’m sorry.” Tears sting in Karube’s eyes. His words come out choked, half a sob. “I’m really sorry.”

He feels Niragi tremble, then a hand comes up to grip his wrist, holding tightly to it. Karube hugs him tighter, shaking.

They both eventually fall asleep slotted up against each other, their sobs slowly subsiding into even sleeping breaths.

“We could just skip today,” Karube offers as they get dressed in the morning. He’s sitting on his bed with his shirt unbuttoned, pulling his socks on. Niragi’s shirtless himself, leaning against Karube’s desk, examining his uniform collar for any stray specks of blood. Karube can’t help himself but to stare a little; he spies some bruises, dug into his shoulders and his side. A small frown pulls at his lips.

“We shouldn’t,” Niragi answers, his voice still a little rough. He doesn’t say that he’s never skipped a day, even when he was sick. Pulling his shirt on, he looks down as he’s doing up the buttons, pointedly not looking at the smooth expanse of skin Karube had bare.

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell someone? A teacher?”

“It won’t help. It never has.” Niragi sighs. “It just makes things worse, Arata will just think up some new way to punish me for it.”

Karube wants to say that he won’t let Arata hurt him, but he’d already failed once, how can he promise that with any sort of confidence? It re-lights a guilty feeling in his chest.

Niragi finishes buttoning up his shirt, then moves to reach a hand up to his mouth. Karube leans out to grab his wrist before he can.

“You shouldn’t touch it. Just … try and leave it alone.”

“It feels weird,” Niragi complains, but drops his hand away.

“I know, but you just need to leave it alone for a few weeks to heal then you can take it out.” Karube’s thumb strokes over Niragi’s wrist before he lets go.

Niragi turns, picking up Karube’s jacket and passing it to him before grabbing his own.

“Come on, we’re going to be late.”

The thought of going to school seems to loom more terrifyingly to Karube than it does to Niragi. His steps are slower. Maybe if they’re going to be late anyway, he can try again to convince Niragi to just skip for the day.

He doesn’t want to see Arata and his group. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he does. Half of him wants to react with anger and beat them all into pulp, the other wants to stay as far away from them as possible and keep them far away from Niragi.

“You know, we never actually got to talk about … it,” Niragi says, breaking the silence. He doesn’t look fully at Karube though, just glances for a moment out of the corner of his eye before looking back at the path. He swallows thickly, then continues quietly, “About the kiss.”

Oh. Right. With everything else that had happened, it had slipped his mind. Karube reaches out to catch Niragi’s hand to slow him to a stop. Niragi stills, but blinks nervously at Karube from behind his glasses.

“I wasn’t mad when you kissed me. I was just surprised. It was … nice, and I do … like you.” He tries to pick his words carefully, “But if it was just a drunk mistake, if you regret it -“

“It wasn’t - and I don’t.”

“O-oh. Good.” A small smile pulls on Karube’s lips, he can feel the tingling warmth of a blush over his cheeks.

“So can I … kiss you again then?” Niragi asks. Karube’s smile drops slightly, “I mean, we don’t have to.”

“No, I want to!” Karube jumps in, then settles, quieting again, “It’s just - the piercing. I read kissing can risk infection, so …”

“Right,” Niragi sighs, moves to keep walking. Karube still hasn’t let go of his hand and pulls him to stop him again, an idea popping into his head.

“Wait.”

He lifts a hand to Niragi’s cheek, pulling him in close so Karube could press a short kiss to the corner of his mouth. When he pulls back, it’s not very far, still close. He can’t help the smile that grows on his face, especially as he spies the soft look in Niragi’s eyes.

“Good enough?”

“Couple of weeks until it heals, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Good enough then.”

They don’t end up skipping school, even though Karube broaches the option once more before they reach school. At the school gate, they pause for a moment. Karube’s stomach turns. He wants to grab Niragi’s arm and pull him away from the place. Arata’s in there with his group, none of them facing any consequences for what they’d done. The mere thought makes Karube bristle. His hands are bruised from the fight with Ota and Kanemoto and they sting when he closed them into shaky fists.

Niragi grabs his hand, around his fist. Karube exhales slowly, shaking his head clear.

“You seem more freaked out than I am,” Niragi says.

“They tricked me. And they hurt you.” His lips tremble into a frown. “It’s my fault, I should’ve been there to stop them before -“ His voice breaks off and he grinds his teeth, huffing out another breath.

“It’s not your fault.” Niragi squeezes his hand. “It’s not. Arata’s smart, he planned this. I think he thought he could kill two birds with one stone; punish me and hurt you by doing so.”

“He was right.”

Niragi’s expression softens slightly, Karube was really blaming himself for this. It was still hurting him. His mind drags up the memory of Karube sobbing into the back of his neck, his trembling arms wrapped tight around Niragi; he shakes it off and elbows Karube in the arm. Karube looks at him as he rubs his arm, his brows scrunching in confusion at the sudden hit. They both need to pull it together.

“Don’t let him get to you. He’ll just find a way to use it against you and then we’re both fucked.” Niragi knows how Arata’s mind works. If he spies some point of weakness, he’s going to abuse it. Karube nods, taking a breath, expression shifting into something more determined.

He’d failed Niragi once. He was going to make sure it didn’t happen again.

It gets easier to ignore Arata and his group as days pass. Karube and Niragi fall back into routine. For a while, Karube keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Arata to throw some new plan in motion and Niragi to end up hurt again. Arata and his lackeys keeps their distance, Karube makes sure of it.

He on such high alert for so long, his body’s starting to ache under the tension. He only finds any kind of calm when he and Niragi are alone. There’s something of shift with them. They sit a little closer together, leaning in to keep their conversations private, grinning to themselves; Niragi’s hand often finds his, especially when they walk home together; since the piercing is still healing, they can’t really kiss, but Karube finds away around it, pressing kisses to Niragi’s jaw and neck and hands and wherever else he can reach; Karube calls him ‘pretty boy’ and Niragi rolls his eyes, shoving him, but can’t hide his smile.

Slowly, Niragi adapts to the piercing. It doesn’t hurt as much and he doesn’t knock it against his teeth as often. The swelling of his tongue goes down. Sometimes, he finds himself looking at it in the mirror, watching the light glint off it’s surface as he slides his tongue over his bottom lip.

They’re crammed up together on Karube’s bed. Niragi’s pushed down against the mattress, Karube’s on top of him. He doesn’t know at which point he lost his glasses, but they’re not on his face. Music plays lowly from a stereo on Karube’s desk, but Niragi isn’t really being paying attention to it. It’s hard to pay attention to anything other than Karube’s mouth.

Niragi’s hands finds purchase in the fabric of Karube’s shirt. Karube mouths over his jaw, lapping down the side of his neck. His hands slips under Niragi’s shirt, straining the fabric thin and smoothing his warm palms up Niragi’s sides. A quiet moan escapes Niragi.

“Still won’t kiss me, huh?” He shakes out. Karube pulls back from where he’d been sucking a mark into Niragi’s neck, breathing roughly.

“Do you want an infection?”

Niragi whines in complaint, tugging on Karube’s shirt. Karube just chuckles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s nice but it’s not enough, Niragi wants to kiss him, wants to be kissed by him.

Eventually, they wear themselves out. There’s a short line of dark hickeys over one side of Niragi’s collarbone, barely obscured by his unbuttoned shirt. Karube’s own shirt is half-unbuttoned and wrinkled at parts from Niragi’s gripping hands.

Panting to try and catch his breath, Niragi’s staring up into the ceiling. Karube’s rolled off him to lie next to him. Their hands are close together but neither have reached out to intertwine them. Niragi draws in a deeper breath, gathering confidence to verbalise the thoughts that have been swirling in his mind for over a week. Now or never, he decides.

“Does it make me crazy if I want to keep it?” He asks softly. His tongue shifts behind his teeth, he presses the piercing up against the roof of his mouth. Karube’s quiet; his fingers shift, the backs brushing against Niragi’s knuckles.

“It’s up to you if you want to keep it or take it out.”

Niragi glances sideways at Karube.

“Do you hate it?”

Karube sighs quietly, then turns to face him.

“I hate what they did to you. But, the piercing … I think I’m getting use to it. I guess. I don’t know.”

Niragi’s hand shifts, tangling his fingers with Karube’s. It’s a non-answer, but Karube doesn’t seem disgusted by the idea, so Niragi relaxes again, turning his gaze back to the ceiling. After a beat and with a short hum, Karube shuffles closer, bumping their shoulders together.

“Do you know who’d hate that you like it?”

A small smirk twists to Niragi’s face.

“Arata?”

Karube laughs, leaning his head next to Niragi’s.

“He’d be pissed if it didn’t torture you like he wants it to.”

There’s a laugh that threatens to slip passed Niragi’s lips, he turns his head to hide it, but squeezes Karube’s hand. Karube huffs another short laugh, his eyes crinkle at the corners. Their giggles soon slow and they fall back into a comfortable silence, still holding hands.

It occurs to Niragi when they’re walking home one day … or, well, he’s going to pretend it simply occurs to him now. Glancing around, he checks to make sure they’re alone. The streets are pretty clear, the sun is setting in the distance. As two students walking around this time of the afternoon, they don’t draw much attention.

Niragi hums, glancing sideways at Karube.

“You know, it’s been almost four weeks,” he says, as if it’s just popped into his head, like he hasn’t been counting down the day. Karube quirks a brow at him, curious. “My piercing’s pretty healed by now.”

“Oh, really?” There’s a small twitch of a smile on Karube’s lips. Niragi isn’t as sly as he thinks.

“You could kiss me now.”

“Huh, guess so.”

Karube keeps walking along, though his eye flicker quickly to their surroundings; clear and empty. Beside him, Niragi pouts slightly. Karube can’t help but laugh.

He catches Niragi by the elbow, pulling him in to kiss him. Niragi’s hand slides up his chest to his neck, fingertips sliding over the short hair at his nape, pulling him in closer. There’s no taste of beer, but his lips are still as soft as the first time. The flick of Niragi’s tongue is shock enough, drawing a noise out of Karube, but the surprise is added to by feeling of his piercing.

Niragi grins against his lips. Karube just melts into it, pulling him in closer.

#aib #alice in borderland #aib fanfic #niragi suguru #karube daikichi #niragi aib #karube aib #niragi fanfic #karube fanfic #karube daikichi x niragi suguru #fic: karunira au #me? writing 12000 words of nonsense? yes of course

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