#why didn’t I take art lessons as a kid!!!!

[gothamrain]

THAT’S NOT A PART OF YOUR ASSIGNMENT

Dick Grayson x art student!reader || 1.6k words

Warnings: smut, naked cuddling, blow job, slight exhibitionism but not quite

Summary: You have an assignment for figure drawing and thankfully have a willing model (along with yourself). Time to take some reference photos. Unfortunately for one horny boy, this means he can’t move. lol poor guy.

a/n: goddd i’m a senior so i’ve spent a bajillion hours in figure by now oof. so here, let me indulge my fantasies. need me a muse like Dick Grayson… well, maybe it’s for the best, since this fic shows how i wouldnt be getting anything done with him around agdjhsajhfk

“Hey, Dickie, can you come in here for a second?” you called and instantly you heard the sock feet of your fiancé come padding towards you.

“Do you need me for something, Baby?”

You were too distracted with the task at hand to pick up on his flirting, “Yeah, just come lay on the bed for a bit.”

“Oooh. Of course~” Dick grinned as he eyed the camera you were adjusting on its tripod before he flopped down onto the bed, “any particular pose?”

“Nah I’m just fixing it right now, you can do whatever as long as you stay on the bed,”

You had meant, like, maybe he could scroll on his phone while you worked. But he took that as ‘whatever sexy pose you want, Babe’ and began showing off his lithe body. Little distracting, but you were used to him enough to successfully ignore it. But damn, was it hard. Especially when he turned around so you could get a nice view of his ass.

“So, we shooting sex tapes or what?”

You rolled your eyes, “No, we’re not shooting sex tapes. I need references for a piece for Figure. We’re supposed to be focusing on the ways the human body will fit together, so we need at least two models,”

“Sound’s intimate,” he schmoozed.

You sighed, “Yeah, that’s why I thought I should just draw us. I like the intimacy of the way we fit together—“

“So we are making sex tapes,”

“No. We are going to just be cuddling, I'm not going up in front of my class to present an explicit piece of us fucking, thank you.”

“But we are going to be naked?”

You sighed even more dramatically this time, “Yes, Dick, we are going to be naked. I have to ‘show off the beauty of the human form’…”

He raised his eyebrows at you suggestively, you shook your head, “and I'll admit, I wanted it to be a little sensual, okay, but it's not like that,"

You went back to fiddling with the camera, ignoring his childish snickering. You positioned it perfectly, able to capture Dick's full body but not too much background with it. Hopefully cramming yourself in there too wont crop anything weird.

Humming to yourself, you grabbed the tiny remote for the tripod and tested it to make sure it was working. Doing so, you accidentally got a shot of Dick taking off his shirt. The way his stomach and chest were flexed as he lifted the shirt over his head was beautiful. Just what you wanted, art. You didn’t delete this test shot like you would’ve done on any other day. Don’t tell Dick.

“Little eager there, Babe?” you flirted.

He had already moved on to stripping off his sweatpants. As he threw the garment across the room you noticed he uh, had a little problem growing. Ah..

“The faster we get these pictures the faster I can convince you to “take a nap” before patrol tonight,” he slipped his boxers off as he talked to you.

“Uh. Yeah. Um,” you started unbuttoning your shirt, “Let’s get this done, yeah…”

Great, now you’re flustered. You’d think you’d learn your lesson by now, to not use your own boyfriend as a model. But he was so pretty, it was always so tempting. If you had your way, all you’d ever draw were portraits of Dick. If you did that, though, you’d quickly get known as “that kid who only draws local celebrity Dick Grayson” around your university, which would most likely get shortened to just “Dick Kid”, and you did not need that kind of bullying in your life right now. You’re a professional studio artist now, goddamnit.

You heard the springs of the bed as Dick laid back down, “So what were you thinking?”

“…” man what were you thinking again? Oh, “I wanted to start with a shot of us spooning. You know, how the legs fit together, how a face fits into the crook of a neck,”

He smiled, “Do I get to be the big spoon?”

“I guess,” you teased.

You took off your own pants and underwear and gave your hair a good finger comb through before laying down on the bed with Dick. He smirked as you cozied up to him. He placed his hand on your hip as he repositioned himself.

“So you want my leg like—”

“Uh huh,” you felt the heat of his bare body melting into yours. And his errection nestling into your ass. Geez…

“And my face—“

He nuzzled into the side of your neck, brushing against the sensitive artery there. Hoo boy, perhaps this is a bad idea. Dick hummed against your throat as he began peppering the area with light kisses.

Mmm, perhaps it’s a really good idea.

“Dick, pose,”

He stopped his onslaught on your neck for a moment, keeping still as you pressed the button on the remote to take a few shots.

“Thank you,” you shuffled over to check the photos, much to Dick’s disappointment at you leaving his embrace, “these are good, next pose,”

“What now,”

You adjusted the angle on the camera, “okay now sit up, on your knees,”

He did as you told him and you crawled back over.

“Uh, sorry, I promise I’m trying to keep professional thoughts right now,” he gestured to his now very prominent boner.

“That’s fine, Baby,” you snickered as you started straddling him, “they’re not gonna be able to see it. This one’s about how legs perfectly bracket a waist,”

“Hands?”

“On my chest, with your fingers in between the ribs,”

Dick was a little confused on what you meant there for a moment but he found it. You were right, his fingers did perfectly slot in between the bones of your ribcage.

Took everything in him to not start running his hands up and down your sides, feeling more of you beneath his fingertips. The gentle way your skin was always soft, no matter where he touched you drove him wild.

And it’s like you knew, the way you grinned and shook your head.

“Here,” you dipped your face towards him and he greedily took the kiss you offered.

It was just a chaste thing, when he tried to deepen it you pulled away. Dick had to fight back the whine in his throat.

“Forehead to mine pleas—“ he gingerly complied, “there we go,”

Dick’s eyelids were pressed tightly shut, but he heard the click of the shutter go off a few times. You then disentangled yourself from him to go check the photos. He missed you immediately, even though you were just right over there.

Damn. This was horrible. Torture. His punishment from the gods like Tantalus’s fruit. He’d rather clean the Batmobile with a toothbrush than have you naked in his lap and not be able to do anything about it.

Okay so maybe he was being a little overdramatic. Can you blame him, though? He can’t just hold his everything in his hands and not make love to them. It feels irreverent.

“Okay, last one”

Thank fucking god. He could feel his cock throbbing and it was starting to get painful.

“Come get close to the camera, this one doesn’t need to be fullbody,”

He crawled closer as you adjusted it once again, “what’s up with this one?”

“How hands were made to cup our curves. I’ll need you to hold my chin in your hands,”

Done. You don’t have to ask him twice. But damn, as you positioned yourself to how you wanted, was it hard to not just start kissing you.

He gazed lovingly at you as he gently played his part, holding you for the camera (and a bunch of students, apparently) to see. He hoped he was doing you justice in this, in all of these. Although, a part of him didn’t want them to be good, didn’t want other people to see how beautiful you could be for him. Your home was his own private little gallery with you as the star and maybe he didn’t want to share.

Gatekeeping art. Tsk…

The shutter clicked and flashed but you didn’t really care anymore. That was the last picture, after all, and Dick was looking at you like he was about to devour you.

And you were right, as he realized he had a greenlight and dove right in.

Dick wasted no time in shoving his tongue into your mouth this time, lapping at your molars. Two can play at that game, so you licked into his mouth as well, only for him to fight dirty running his tongue along the roof of your mouth in flicks. A shiver ran down your spine as Dick pulled your face, still cupped in his hands, further into his. He moaned with the action, and damn, he really was trying to devour you.

He continued his attack on your mouth, sliding his tongue along yours in the most delicious way. You felt the vibrations of another groan as you let your hands start to wander down his body. His trapeze artist tits pecs.. his grabbable hips… his very hard cock weeping precum onto your hand as you fisted it. He pulled out of your mouth with a jolt, panting for air.

“Please—“ he was cut off by a surprisingly high-pitched noise breaking out his throat as you went down, wasting no time in taking him into your mouth.

You took him as far as you could, the head hitting the back of your throat. You pressed your tongue flat into the underside of his cock, slowly dragging it along his tender shaft before pulling off of him again. He made a strangled noise as you looked up at him.

“What?” why’d you stop before you even started?

“Well look,” you placed your tongue back into the divet where his tip met his shaft, “it’s like my tongue was made to be there. Fits together perfectly,”

God, you were going to be the death of him.

[callmeagardengnome]

˚ʚ paint my world ɞ˚ | SONG MINGI

pairings ᯓ idol!mingi x painter! fem!reader

genre ᯓ soulmate au, one-shot

synopsis ᯓ you’ve been seeing in black and white for all your life - until a popular idol comes in and changes things

w.c ᯓ 2.7k

author’s note: make sure to like and repost!!

not proofread!

masterlist

blue. you’ve never seen blue before.

you stood in front of the clothing rack in shock, trying to process what you were looking at.

from the moment you were born, you were cursed by your soulmark. colour was something that was foreign to you, something that didn’t seem real. you never understood why your friends would fight over certain crayons or when people looked up to the sky, admiring its beauty - it all looked the same to you.

as depressing as it sounds, seeing in black and white wasn’t too bad. you weren’t distracted by the things around you and you could actually focus in school for the most part.

sure, you had a few awkward moments. like when you wore a completely mismatched outfit - highlighter yellow shirt paired with murky orange pants and pastel pink shoes. if anything, it taught you a learning lesson to always ask your parents for fashion advice.

ironically, you became a painter after you graduated. you were always a creative kid and being colourblind wasn’t going to hold you back from releasing your works into the universe.

you slowly rose to fame, with your artworks capturing the eyes of millions around the world. you even managed to earn a lot of money from it, leading you to buy more supplies for your job.

you stood up from your chair, cracking your back. you’ve been working on this certain art piece for at least 7 hours and you decided to finally take a break. it’s been a while since you’ve painted - you took a short holiday to one of your favourite countries which led you to forget the long hours of sitting down.

you reached for your phone, dialling your best friend’s number.

“hello?” your best friend’s voice echoed in the room.

“i’m boredd,” you groaned out, flopping onto your bed. “can we do something?”

she chuckled. “i’m guessing you’re done painting?”

“i’m taking a break,” you said, shifting, making yourself more comfortable.

“if you want, i can pick you up and we can go shopping?” your best friend suggested, her voice sounding more excited.

“you know me so well,” you replied, hanging up almost immediately. you ran to your closet and picked out a simple outfit, one that you knew matched each other.

you scrolled through your phone, waiting for your best friend to text you. when she finally came to pick you up, the both of you went to your favourite shopping centre, looking at the different stores.

that was what led you to.. blue? pink? yellow?

in all honesty, you had no idea of what colour you were looking at. when your best friend decided to stop at a random clothing store, you thought that it wouldn’t hurt to look around a little bit. while she was in the women’s section, you went over to the men’s section - you never know if they have better clothes.

you browsed through the selection of clothes mindlessly until a shirt caught your eye. “ayo what-“

you went closer to the shirt, one that stood out in a vibrant colour against the monochrome background. you touched the sleeves, the material. it was alien to you. for all of your life, everything was in greyscale. you’ve never seen anything as bright, or beautiful as this shirt that was in front you. you took a moment to inspect the shirt, wanting to imprint the colour into your mind. after all, you never know the next time you would see actual colour.

“‘____’?”

you turned to look at your best friend, who stood a few steps away from you, looking confused.

“…are you okay?” she asked cautiously, not knowing why you looked so stunned.

“dude-“ you coughed out, glancing between the shirt and your best friend. “i can see colour.”

her jaw dropped. “wait- really? can you see the colour of my shoes?” she pointed at her shoes eagerly, nearly dropping the pile of clothes she was carrying.

“well- no..” you replied, disappointed. “but i can see the colour of this shirt..?”

“hm..” your best friend hummed, moving closer to you. she awkwardly reached into her pocket, before starting to google about your soulmark.

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

when mingi found out that ATEEZ was going on tour, he wasn’t exactly thrilled. of course, he was happy that he got to meet the international ATINY, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed that he couldn’t properly enjoy the trip.

to him, he didn’t really see the fun in leaving the country, or even going outside. everything looked the same to him. no matter what, he couldn’t see the true beauty of the things around him - so what was the point of feeling excited to go overseas?

mingi flinched when the lights shined intensely in the plane. he slept throughout the entire plane ride, not even bothering to look outside the windows. he absentmindedly followed his group, trailing behind everyone as they got off the plane.

“what..?” his thoughts echoed in his head as he looked around at the airport.

it was.. bright. unusually bright.

it was almost comical how bright the airport was - it even hurt his eyes. he had to blink a couple of times to make sure that he wasn’t hallucinating.

he stopped following the group, taking in his surroundings. was this what normal people saw?

everything was so.. vibrant and bold. he couldn’t even comprehend that people could see this on the daily and not talk about it more. sure, he bumped into a few people by stopping suddenly, but that didn’t matter - in fact, nothing else mattered. mingi could see colour, and he wasn’t planning to stop anytime soon.

“dude are you okay?” yunho snapped his fingers in front of mingi, finally catching his attention.

mingi furrowed his eyebrows, hitting yunho’s hand away from his face. yunho looked at mingi, concerned. “we’ve been calling you for the past five minutes, why are you standing in the middle of nowhere?”

mingi turned away from yunho, shifting his eyes around the airport. “i can see colour.”

a collective ‘WHAT’ was heard from the group as they gathered around mingi, attacking him with questions.

“i don’t know, maybe this airport is just.. different?” mingi said, unsure.

“does that mean your soulmate is here?” wooyoung asked, looking at his members curiously.

“maybe,” seonghwa shrugged, typing in his phone. “i just googled it, apparently you can see colour of the objects your soulmate touches or the places they’ve been in often.”

yunho whistled. “that means your soulmate in the same city as us,” he said, nudging mingi.

mingi smiled, running his fingers through his hair. “how long are we staying here again?”

“..four days?”

“i only have four days to find my soulmate?” mingi exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock. “how am i supposed to do that?”

“i mean.. we have one rest day..?”

mingi groaned, his face in his hands. he was so caught up with the thought of finding his soulmate that tour completely left his mind. he had spent all of his life in black and white and he didn’t want to return back to that.

mingi asked his members to teach him the different colours. he ended up learning that colour can have different hues, brightness and he didn’t want to stop being surrounded by these colours.

unfortunately, they had to leave the airport due to their packed schedule. everything became ten times more boring. the cars passing by, the trees, the pavement, nothing interested him anymore.

his member’s obviously noticed his change in mood and did a small detour to a nearby shopping centre. they wandered around, going to different stores, looking at the different items the city had to offer.

mingi cheered up a bit when he entered a clothing store that was his style. he made a beeline to the men’s section and tried on a shirt that he liked. unluckily, his manager had to drag him to the car, preventing him from buying the shirt.

luckily for you though, fate brought you to the shirt. you unhooked it from the rack, bringing it closer to your face.

“what colour is this?” you asked your best friend.

“it’s blue,” she answered with a wide grin on her face, barely containing her excitement.

you nodded, unable to take your eyes off of the shirt. “where is blue found?”

“the sky,” she said eagerly. “the ocean too, it’s really beautiful.”

she added, “blue is normally used for sadness though. a lot of films portray it that way.”

you didn’t know that a beautiful colour like blue, could be associated with such a depressing emotion. it didn’t make sense to you.

however, you put off your feelings of confusion. now wasn’t the time to question these sorts of things. now was the time to find your soulmate.

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

it was day 3 of ATEEZ being in your city. with each day passing by, mingi felt more and more anxious. he hated the fact that he didn’t have time to find you and how he had to spend most of his time performing.

obviously, he was extremely grateful that he got to meet his fans, but there was a part of him that always felt irritated.

not only that, on the day that he was planning on resting, he got interrupted.

“shouldn’t you ask someone else?” mingi asked, raising an eyebrow.

“no one here likes art,” hongjoong groaned, sitting next to mingi. “i get that you’re colourblind but pleasee accompany me.”

hongjoong was begging mingi to follow him to an art museum. there was art exhibition going on that was intriguing to hongjoong - but unfortunately, was not interesting to his members. this led to hongjoong asking his colourblind member as a last resort to follow him to the museum.

“maybe you can find your soulmate there,” hongjoong mentioned, wiggling his eyebrows.

“i doubt it,” mingi scoffed. “but you know what? i’ll follow you.. cuz i’m a good friend.”

hongjoong rolled his eyes before running off to get ready for the art exhibition.

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

you looked at yourself in the mirror, debating what outfit to wear. should you go casual? formal? after a year of working on it, the launch of your art exhibition was finally here. it was an important milestone in your life and you did not want to mess it up.

you sighed, walking over to your closet. your eyes immediately landed on the vibrant blue shirt hanging on the side of your dull wardrobe. was this the right choice? it was a nice shirt, and it did feel nice to know what colour you were wearing for once.

after considering it, you grabbed the shirt from the rack and hurriedly put it on. you needed to make it to the museum quick - after all, you didn’t want to be late to such an important event.

you booked a taxi to the museum, going over to where your artworks were stationed. you looked at your art pieces in pride, unable to stop yourself from smiling wildly at them.

mingi and hongjoong reached the museum slightly later than they wanted to. they had to squeeze through the swarm of art enthusiasts crowding at the front of the exhibition.

when the two men finally reached the start of the exhibition, they’re eyes widened in shock. while hongjoong was impressed by your artistic talents, mingi’s jaw was on the ground for a different reason.

it was fully coloured.

he’s never seen a coloured picture before, let alone a painting. when he glanced over at the other art pieces, he noticed that they were too, coloured vividly.

“why- why is this coloured?” mingi muttered to himself, moving closer to the painting.

“you can see this?” hongjoong asked in surprise.

mingi nodded, walking over to another painting. “yeah.. all of the paintings actually.”

the two of them stood in silence, both thinking about what this could mean.

“dude- is the artist your soulmate?” hongjoong exclaimed, staring at mingi with wide eyes. “you can see colour of the objects your soulmate touch right?”

“uhuh..”

“you need to find her,” hongjoong said, squeezing mingi’s arm. “it’s the first day of the exhibition, she’s 100% here.”

mingi wasn’t prepared at all to meet you. the idea of even being in the same area as you terrified him. he was thinking about finding you on their last day in the city, he hadn’t even finished planning out what he wanted to say to you.

unfortunately, hongjoong pushed mingi away, forcing him to look for you.

mingi had zero clue of what you looked like - he had no idea of who he was looking for. after a while, he noticed that one of his shoe laces were untied and kneeled down to tie them. that was when he noticed something strange.

he saw blue-coloured footsteps littered all over the ground. he quickly stood up, looking around the room like a madman. at first, he was was searching for you without any real evidence of you being at the museum, but now, everything changed.

you were actually there, and he was going to do his best to find you.

as creepy as it sounds, mingi followed your footsteps, trying to trace where you were going. it was obvious that you were frantically running around the museum, for reasons that he did not know.

while mingi was trying his hardest to find you, you were trying your hardest to prevent any issues from happening. there had been certain entry problems or people requesting you to explain some of your artworks, which led you to scurry around the museum.

your eyes were glued to your clipboard that had all of the things you needed to take note of jotted down. you were so focused that you accidentally bumped into someone.

“sorry-“ you apologised quickly.

mingi picked up your clipboard and handed it to you. not expecting much of the interaction, he almost immediately moved away from you until.. you made eye contact.

the world around you seemed to stop.

the colours came in gradually at first - the blush of red in your cheeks, the rich colours in your eyes, the vibrant blue of your shirt. it was like the first brushstrokes of a painting, the colours spread and bloomed, saturating everything around you.

you blinked, staring at the man in front of you. the moment you locked eyes with him, you knew. he was the one - your missing piece. your soulmate.

“hey,” he spoke up, his deep voice surprising you slightly.

“hi..” you replied, barely above a whisper.

the both of you stood up, the universe revealing itself to you. for the first time, you saw the world in its true beauty - it was alive.

the museum held different hues, different shades of colours you could barely recognise, each colour filling you with a joy you didn’t know you could feel.

mingi smiled. “i can’t believe it,” he said softly. “it’s so.. beautiful.”

you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, your emotions bubbling to the surface. “it really is,” you said, unable to pull your gaze away from him.

mingi wiped the tear rolling down your face, pulling you closer to him.

“you’re so pretty..” he muttered, studying your face.

there was a pause - one that was comfortable. the two of you stared into each other’s eyes, not wanting to look away.

“can i try something?” mingi asked, tilting your jaw up.

your heart raced as a blush crept up to your cheeks. “sure,” you replied, feeling a flutter in your chest.

mingi leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to back away if you wanted to. but you didn’t. instead, you closed the distance between the two of you with your lips meeting in a tender kiss.

the world around you seem to overflow with colour, with the blue in your shirt mixing with the brown of his jacket. the colours in your paintings swirled, creating a beautiful illusion of contrast.

the both of you pulled back, smiling at each other. you saw his warm brown eyes, his hair and how his cheeks were dusted with a light pink.

“i’m so glad i found you,” he said, tracing his thumb across your jaw. “i don’t feel so blue anymore.”

any and all feedback appreciated <3

other fics

series taglist [OPEN] - @jiwoongsblondehair @hwasbabygirl @chngbnwf @passerbyforfun @butterfliesinthesky @ismelllikechlorine247 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes @forever-atiny @arki-sha

[millenianthemums]

Chapter 6 of Mabel’s Guide to the Power of Friendship is up!!

Writing this one took me a while, and then the art also took a while… everything took a while. i always enjoy writing this once i get to it, though! hope you enjoy this one too.

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INDEX

chapter text under cut:

It was hard for Mabel to really relax, knowing that Bill was lurking just below the floorboards. But by the time the sun was low and her family was gathered around the dinner table, she’d mostly put it out of her mind. It was hard to be miserable with them around.

“You think Soos will bring more empanadas when he’s here tomorrow?” Dipper asked, picking at the strangely opalescent casserole on his plate.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were insinuating something about my cooking,” Ford said wryly.

“Whaaat? No! No, don’t be– that’s ridiculous,” Dipper said. “This is great! I mean, it’s a million times better than last time, this one didn’t even come to life and attack us–”

“Don’t jinx it,” Stan said.

“Hey, c’mon, guys,” Mabel piped up. “It’s the thought that counts, right? It’s really sweet that he tried. Besides, even Grunkle Ford can’t be perfect at everything.”

Ford chuckled. “Thank you, Mabel. As far as backhanded compliments go, that’s quite nice.”

“It’s true!” she said. “So what if you’re not a chef? You invent, like, six magical contraptions a week!”

“That’s a wild exaggeration,” Ford said with a grin. “It’s been at least a month since the last one. Although Fiddleford and I have made some real progress on our current project…”

“New project?” Dipper perked up. “What is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know if the details will interest you that much–”

“Shaaare!” Mabel demanded. Dipper immediately joined in, both of them pumping their fists and shouting “Share! Share! Share!” until Ford laughed and gave in. They all knew he didn’t really need that much encouragement, but it was fun anyway.

“Alright, alright! I’ll tell you.” Ford waved his hands to set the scene, the way he always did when he started talking about science stuff. “So, we all know that unicorn tears have remarkable healing properties, right? But we also know that unicorns aren’t generous creatures, and trying to obtain some tears by force often creates more injuries than they could ever heal.”

Stan snorted. “And how many tries did it take for that lesson to set in?”

“Not the topic, Stanley. Anyway, our goal was to synthetically recreate the healing properties of the tears, eliminating the need to seek out the real thing. This has been in the works for a long time; in fact, our biggest breakthroughs came from studying the sample Mabel and her friends obtained last year…”

Dipper extended a fist to Mabel, and she proudly bumped it.

“...And I must say, we’ve had some very promising results with the latest prototypes! There have been some hiccups here and there– we really should have fireproofed the lab sooner– but I think in the next few weeks, we might even end up with something that could surpass the healing properties of unicorn tears!”

“Nice!” Mabel held out a fist to Ford. “Take that, you overrated horses!”

Ford laughed, accepting the fist bump. Stan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Here’s hoping you get it workin’ before we set out again. It’d make things way less stressful on the boat. Heck, the coast guard medics might even have time to forget our names!”

“Wait, you’re setting out again?” Dipper asked. “When?”

“End of the summer, same as you kids!” Stan said proudly. “First thing in September, we’re headed right back out there.”

Ford nodded. “We still have a lot more to investigate. I expect we’ll be very busy once Fall comes around, which is why I’m under strict orders to ‘take it easy’ while we’re here. Otherwise, the elixir would probably be finished by now–” Stan crossed his arms, and Ford quickly added “--but I completely understand the point of it. Rest is important, kids.”

“Darn right,” Stan grunted. “Far as I’m concerned, we’re both on vacation for the summer.”

Dipper tapped his fork on his chin. “So you won’t be studying Gravity Falls for a while?”

“C’mon, brobro,” Mabel chided. “Grunkle Ford’s willingly taking a break for once, let’s not remind him of all the extra stuff he could be doing!”

“That’s not what I meant!” Dipper protested. “I’m just saying…”

“It’s a fair question,” Ford said. “There certainly are plenty of mysteries left unsolved around here. But I think Stanley and I have broadened our focus a bit too much to give special attention to Gravity Falls anymore. Just our brief stay in the Arctic Circle alone has raised so many fascinating questions, and we still have so many more places to investigate… there’s just not enough time to solve all the world’s mysteries, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, relax, Poindexter,” Stan cut in, shoving Ford’s shoulder. “We’re not the only ones working on this stuff. Something tells me Gravity Falls’ll be in good hands, even without us.” He gave Dipper a meaningful wink. Mabel couldn’t help but smile at the way her brother’s face lit up.

“Hey, guys?” Dipper asked, leaning back in his chair and trying to seem subtle. “Can we talk after dinner? I was hoping to get some feedback on this project I’m working on…”

Mabel’s smile faded. “Is it about that dumb thesis contest?” She turned to the Grunkles and pointed accusingly at Dipper. “He won’t let me help with it! He wouldn’t shut up about how cool it would be to win and get a big smarty-pants paper published, and now that he’s allowed to start working on it he won’t even tell me what it’s gonna be about! I could have done like fifty illustrations by now if—”

“I told you, there’s nothing to share yet!” Dipper protested. “I’ve… kinda been putting it off. I’ve still got a week until the topic proposal’s due…”

“Then what do you need Stan and Ford’s ‘feedback’ on?”

Dipper tugged at his shirt collar. “Uh… it’s…”

“I could help,” she said, voice a little louder than she’d wanted. “Even if it’s something I’m bad at, I could help make it look cool. If you just told me a little bit about it…”

Dipper sighed. “Look, Mabel, I promise I’ll share it with you soon, okay? I just… I want it to be a surprise.”

Mabel looked at him doubtfully over the rim of her water glass. She wanted to keep prying, but it was clear she was just making him uncomfortable. He didn’t want her help, he just didn’t know how to say it. She could tell.

“Okay,” she said, trying not to sound hurt. It was fine, really. She had high-speed bike riding; Dipper was allowed to have things just for himself too. It was normal for twins to grow apart. She drained the rest of her glass and stared down at the tablecloth.

An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. Then Stan spoke up. “Speaking of surprises. Hey Sixer, remember that thing we ran into off the coast of Greenland in March?”

Ford laughed. “How could I possibly forget? Now, kids, I don’t know about you, but nothing in my paleontology education gave me the impression that wooly mammoths were aquatic…”

Soon Mabel was too wrapped up in seafaring stories to be sad about anything.

——-

Bill must have fallen asleep at some point. He’d been lying there, in the basement, in the dark, with the Pines’ infernal voices ringing above him, but then something had happened. The voices changed. And suddenly he wasn’t in a basement anymore. He was lying on an exam table, and his arms were strapped down, and his eye wouldn’t close, and the air was thick with antiseptic. And there were voices all around him, moving around him, but he knew he couldn’t look, he just had to keep his eye focused on the stars overhead, just don’t look, just don’t look at them, just pretend they’re not there, pretend you’re among the stars and nothing’s happening, nothing hurts. So he didn’t look away, not even when the quiet voices he could hear through the pain changed again, became painfully familiar, he still didn’t look, even when they started screaming, even when their cries and pleading were drowned out by the sounds of flames, even when the heat waves twisted the air and the crunching, sizzling, tearing sounds and the smell of burning meat drowned out all his other senses he still didn’t look, he didn’t look down, he wouldn’t–

And then he was back in the basement. It was dark and still. The only sound was his own ragged breathing.

He sat up and scrubbed at his face with the blanket he’d been wrapped in. Dreams. He hadn’t been ready to deal with dreams. Other people’s dreams were a riot. Not his own.

He’d been distracted too quickly to dwell on the last one. He’d foolishly hoped that would be the last one for a while. But no, of course not. This world couldn’t allow him even a moment of peace. Every sleep was going to be like this.

In the dark, he staggered to the small bathroom in the back of the room. He ran the cold water in the sink and rinsed his mouth until he forgot the taste of the smoke. It was so vivid. So convincing. Even though none of it had made any sense, it felt real.

He stared numbly at the mirror. Their voices. He’d remembered them, of course. Despite all the worlds that had sprouted and withered between then and now, despite everything he’d tried, he’d never been able to stop remembering them. But he never thought he’d have to hear those voices again.

Someone knocked at the door.

His first thought was “thank god”. He’d been desperately hoping for anything else to think about. His second thought, as he heard the door unlock, was “that could be anybody”. So he stood just at the edge of the room and prepared to run for cover, until a small, high-pitched voice said “It’s me.”

Bill relaxed a little. Not a lot, but more than zero. He scrubbed his face dry and straightened his bowtie before she entered, trying to look as stoic as possible. She didn’t seem to notice anything amiss as she rushed in and slumped against the door to shut it. Both her hands were busy carrying an overloaded paper plate.

Trying her best to not let it fold under the weight of the food piled onto it, she glanced around for a surface to place it on. The curved lid of the wooden chest was considered, then quickly rejected when the plate started sliding. She winced before resorting to setting it down on the floor beside the beanbag. Finally, she retrieved a packet of plastic utensils from a takeout place and laid it beside the plate, trying to make it look presentable.

“We need to get a table or something in here,” she muttered as Bill drew closer to inspect the offering.

“YEAH, SOME APPLIANCES WOULD BE NICE TOO,” he joked. “I’M THINKIN’ A STUDIO APARTMENT KIND OF SETUP. WASHER AND DRYER OVER THERE, THAT CORNER’S THE KITCHEN… FULL-SIZE JACUZZI ON THAT SIDE, OBVIOUSLY…”

“I have six dollars,” Mabel piped up.

Bill laughed before he could stop himself. Encouraged, she went on: “I mean, there’s an empty fish tank and a car battery in the garage. We could make a hole in the side and stick a blowdryer in there for a jet. That’d be fine, right?”

He laughed again. “I LIKE WHERE YOUR HEAD’S AT, KID. IF WE SHUT OFF THE SPRINKLERS, WE COULD SET UP A FIRE PIT IN THE KITCHEN CORNER!”

“Perfect plan!” Mabel laughed along with him, but then seemed to think better of it. “But okay, hold on, we can start with the home renovations later. For now, you should eat.” She pointed to the plate. “It’s just some leftovers from tonight. Figured taking more snacks would look suspicious. But if it, uh… disagrees with you… then just let me know tomorrow.”

That wasn’t a glowing review. Looking dubiously at the alleged “food” on the plate, he didn’t see much reason to doubt it. Still, he tried to look grateful as he picked up a plastic fork. “WILL DO,” he said, trying not to look down.

“I’ll come back down tomorrow, before the others wake up,” she said, crossing back over to the door. “Including Grunkle Ford… ugh, that’s gonna suck. But once I’m back, we’ll figure out a plan, okay?”

Bill glanced around the room. “I THOUGHT THIS WAS THE PLAN,” he said.

“C’mon, you can’t just stay in one tiny dark room all summer! This isn’t Guacamole or something.”

Bill snorted. “GUANTANAMO?”

“Whatever,” she said, flushing. “The point is we need to get you outside once in a while. You have scales, things with scales need sunlight or they get sick. And what’s the point of all this work if you get sick and die??”

She had a point there. Bill shifted uncomfortably, realizing he wasn’t totally sure if the sun thing would apply to him or not. “YEAH, FAIR ENOUGH. KEEP FORGETTING THIS…” he gestured to the body, “…THING NEEDS ‘VITAMINS’ AND SUCHLIKE.”

“Relatable, honestly. But there’s a bunch more stuff to plan out, too! We need to be able to contact each other in emergencies. And, like, a secret knock so you know when it’s me, and a code to communicate…” as she spoke, her hands started flapping with excitement. “Oh my gosh, it’s like one of those spy games Dipper likes. We could make a guidebook with all this stuff! Like a, what, codex? For the code? We could make our own code! You can handle that part— I know that’s your thing, it’s literally your name… I get to do all the art, though. It can have a scrapbook vibe— I gotta find my craft scissors with the zig-zags—”

“KID.” Bill cut her off. “I KNOW IT’S IN YOUR NATURE NOT TO TAKE STUFF SERIOUSLY. IT’S A GOOD TRAIT! MAKES LIFE A LOT MORE BEARABLE. BUT THIS ISN’T SOME SILLY SUMMER CRAFT PROJECT. THIS IS LIFE OR DEATH, GOT IT? CAN WE TRY TO ACT LIKE IT’S IMPORTANT?”

She looked hurt. “Silly things are still important,” she muttered. “We could hide it in here. And even if someone finds it, it could be any goofy old thing I made! Dipper showed me how to do that invisible ink thing; I could act like the empty space is just unfinished parts! I dunno, I just… I thought it’d make this whole thing a little more fun.”

Bill squinted at her as she stared at the floor, arms crossed tight over her chest. Then he rolled his eye. Maybe he was being a choosing beggar here. This was Mabel Pines; of course she’d want to make some stupid game out of this. And the whole plan was to humor her. If this was what it took to keep her invested, he should probably just play along.

“OKAY, FINE. I’M IN,” he sighed. “WE CAN MAKE A BOOK OR WHATEVER.”

She lit up again. “Really?? Yes! Awesome! It’ll be so fun, I promise.” She paused and glanced at the dark window. “But we can start that later. I gotta go get at least a tiny bit of sleep first.”

Bill shrugged. “SURE. CAN’T KEEP THIS BODY ALIVE IF YOURS GIVES OUT.”

“Thanks for the concern,” she snorted. “And see you in the morning.” She gave a quick wave before shutting the door behind her.

Watching the door, he heard the heavy “clunk” of the lock clicking shut, then rapid footsteps bounding up the staircase. He sighed and pinched his forehead. That much youthful energy couldn’t be sustainable. She probably wouldn’t live past 20.

As he waited for the various noises and occupants of the house to settle, he wolfed down the food as fast as he could. The kid was right to be apologetic, but if he ate quickly, he didn’t taste it much. It was just fuel anyway.

When the plate was finally empty, he dropped it back to the floor and picked up the plastic fork. He rinsed it in the sink as well as he could, wiped it dry with the paper napkin that came with the set, then bent one of the tines away from the others. He leaned one side against the crack in the door, listening intently to the silence from above. There wasn’t a whisper of movement.

He stuck the tine of the fork into the lock.

It was more stubborn than your typical household lock, but Bill had bested much worse with much less. It only took a little finagling before he heard the “clunk” he was listening for. Slowly, cautiously, he eased the door open. The hallway was dark and empty. He stashed his impromptu lockpick in his hat, locked the door behind him, and crept up into the house.

—-

The place was as quiet and dark as he’d hoped for. He’d been right to judge by the footsteps above him that they’d all gone to bed. And thankfully, even without his usual glow, the stars outside were bright enough to see by. He crept along with his back against the wall, testing each floorboard before he stepped, scanning his surroundings.

The decor was about the same as he remembered, with a few notable changes. A lot of the ceiling and walls had been replaced; probably necessary after they turned it into a big stupid robot last year. And it seemed like someone else might have moved in. There were some new decorations that weren't anything close to the “style” he’d come to expect from the place. Lace doilies hung from the tops of chairs and sofas like dusty cobwebs, and handmade blankets and wall hangings were scattered all around. Shooting Star was crafty, sure, but these didn’t look like her handiwork. The colors were way too easy on the eye, and there wasn’t a crumb of glitter to be seen. If they were her doing, they were a big step down in quality.

But if they weren’t, it meant an extra person to deal with. Better keep his eye out.

He turned a corner and a massive shape blotted out the hallway ahead. He scrambled back, clenching his teeth tight beneath his eyelids to stop a yell from escaping.

Then his eye adjusted, and he had to stifle an irritated growl. It was just that stupid pig. He’d forgotten how huge it was now, and it looked a lot less pathetic from a low angle. It was sitting in the middle of the floor, directly in his path, staring down at him. Its eyes glittered in the moonlight like two tiny black teeth.

Bill glared up at it defiantly. Just let it try and make a move. He might not have magic, but he still had claws and teeth. A ripped throat wasn’t as flashy as immolation, but it was still perfectly fatal.

The pig returned his stare with no discernable expression. A few silent seconds crept by.

Then the pig gave a grumbly snort and laid its head on the ground. It flopped onto one side and closed its eyes with an indifferent sigh.

Bill hurried on, telling himself to thank his lucky stars instead of feeling indignant. Still, his ego stung a little. Not even livestock saw him as a threat anymore.

To his relief, he had no more surprise encounters as he cased the second floor. The layout of the rooms was about the same as before, which meant the sounds of walking from above his little home base would still be a reliable method of tracking the inhabitants. He steered well clear of all the bedrooms and kept his back to the wall, and the floorboards beneath him kept silent. He was out of practice with walking, sure, but nobody who grew up causing problems ever forgets how to sneak through a hallway.

Once he’d made mental notes of all the storage spaces that might have supplies he could use, he headed for the portal. On the way through the gift shop he snagged a small notepad and pen from behind the desk. Scanning over the portal wreckage, he made a list of the missing components and tools he’d need. In code, obviously; secret codes were literally his name, after all.

Once the darkness outside started to lift away, he cut his work short and headed back. He tore the used page from the notebook and placed it and the pen back where he’d found them, exchanging them for a single paperclip that he stashed in his hat with the paper. That was all he felt comfortable taking for now. It was much too early to start gathering supplies. Anything left out of place would definitely make the kid suspicious. For now, he’d just plan. Make sure everything went as smoothly as it possibly could. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get all the power tools and steel he’d need down to the basement without being noticed, but there was no point freaking out about it now. He’d figure out logistics later. He could pull this off. He was going to pull this off. He had no other choice.

By the time the first pink rays of light had breached the horizon, he was back in the cell. The paperclip made a perfectly serviceable lockpick to latch the door behind him. Like nothing ever happened.

He curled up in his nest of blankets, trying to hold his eye open. Hoping to ward off the dreams a little longer. But eventually his exhaustion won the battle. His eye slid shut.

Maybe the next dream would at least be over quick.

—-

Bill’s wish came true. As soon as he jolted awake, he regretted making it. It felt like he’d been yanked out of a tar pit by his eyelashes, but his brain stayed behind. His head, chest and eye socket all felt like they were stuffed with wet cotton, and his bones were shaking with this sudden painful chill. His thoughts were so slow and muffled that it took a second for him to even realize that someone was staring him right in the face. He lurched away and fell backwards off the beanbag.

Mabel poked her head over the beanbag and beamed down at where he lay on the floor in a tangle of blankets. “Morning!” she said in a bright half-whisper. “How’d you sleep?”

Bill glared up at her with silent disdain. After a moment, she seemed to take that as an answer. “Yeah, me too. Had a lot of stress dreams. Anyway, time to figure some stuff out.”

She disappeared from view for a moment, then reappeared at his side with a fuzzy pink notebook and a chunky pink pen with a glittery pom-pom topper. She leafed through the book for a minute, then looked up at Bill. “You ok?”

“I’M DYING,” Bill croaked. It was barely hyperbole. That freezing, sinking pain just kept getting worse. Every second he kept his eye open, it felt like gravity increased tenfold.

Mabel hissed through her teeth. “Hold on a second.” She vanished from view again, then popped back in with a mason jar full of what looked like the fluid from inside a neon pink glowstick. She propped him upright and shoved it into his hands. “Drink this.”

Bill ought to have been at least a little suspicious of a drink presented so vaguely. But a billion years of drinking cocktails made from substances meant to power quantum reactions, combined with the weight of sheer exhaustion muffling all his thoughts, meant that he barely hesitated before lifting the jar to his eyelids and taking a gulp.

A second later, his eye shot wide open. “WHOA!” he shouted, blinking rapidly.

“Ooh, I might’ve put too many pop rocks in that batch,” Mabel said. She grabbed the jar and shook it, sending frozen fruit shapes and plastic dinosaurs clattering around in a glittery whirlpool. “Mixing it usually helps. Dipper keeps telling me to warn people before I give them this stuff—”

Bill grabbed the jar back. He took an approving glance at the crazy-looking drink— now that his brain was working, he could fully appreciate the vibe— and then knocked back another mouthful. A rush of energy buzzed through his brain, setting his neurons alight like christmas lights hooked up to a nuclear reactor. The dangerously sugary concoction stung the inside of his mouth like acid, but this was a fun kind of pain. “OH, THIS IS PHENOMENAL.”

Mabel’s face lit up. “You like it??”

“DO I?!” One more swig and the jar was empty, and Bill was actually bouncing in place a little. “I FEEL LIKE A WHOLE NEW TRIANGLE! WHAT IS THAT?!”

“It’s Mabel Juice!” she beamed. “My own personal secret recipe! It’s so secret, not even I know what the secret is! Seriously, I hardly ever write the ingredients down.”

Bill laughed. “WELL, COLOR ME IMPRESSED, KID! I HAVEN’T HAD A DRINK THAT GOOD SINCE THAT BATTERY ACID DAQUIRI I MIXED BACK IN THE ‘30s. AND THIS ONE DIDN’T EVEN DISSOLVE MY STOMACH!”

Mabel’s smile dropped for a second, then returned. “I’ll take that as a compliment!” she said proudly. “I’ll bring more down later. I’ve got a million different brews you can try! The others don’t drink much of it, they always complain about how there’s ‘so much sugar’ and it ‘burns their mouths’ or whatever…”

“HEY, THEIR LOSS! I’LL TAKE IT OFF YOUR HANDS! EXTRA BURNING ON THE SIDE, IF YOU’VE GOT IT,” Bill offered. He had to hand it to the kid; she made pouring on the charm pretty easy. In a better world, he would’ve hired her as a barista in the Fearamid.

Mabel grinned, but then her face froze. From somewhere upstairs, the familiar sound of heavy, clomping footsteps rang through the ceiling.

Bill froze in place too, his eye locked on the ceiling. His teeth clenched tight behind his eye socket as he tried to repress his anger. Like a favorite song after you set it as your morning alarm, that sound made his blood boil on contact.

“Grunkle Ford’s up,” Mabel whispered. Bill glanced over to see her watching the ceiling too. “I thought he’d at least sleep ‘til five…”

“RISKY GAMBLE THERE,” Bill muttered. “FORD DOESN’T HAVE A SLEEP SCHEDULE, HE JUST WORKS ‘TIL HE KEELS OVER.”

“He’s working on it,” Mabel said defensively. Maybe Bill hadn’t kept all the derision out of his voice. He kept his mouth shut, just to be safe.

“Okay. Alright. This is fine.” The kid was clearly reassuring herself more than him. “He shouldn’t hear us down here. Nobody heard you screaming your head off the other day, they shouldn’t hear us just talking… we should be fine for now. As long as he doesn’t wander down here and happen to just randomly get close to this room. Or wander upstairs to his office and pass our bedroom and happen to look in and notice I’m not there. So as long as he stays on the exact floor he’s on now, we’ll be okay…”

“KID, RELAX. YOU SOUND LIKE PINETREE,” Bill laughed. “WITH HOW LOUD THOSE STEPS ARE, WE’LL HAVE A TON OF WARNING IF HE HEADS FOR ANY STAIRS. JUST CUT TO THE CHASE SO YOU DIDN’T WAKE ME UP FOR NOTHING.”

She shot another worried glance at the ceiling, then nodded. “Okay. Sure. The chase… hold on.” She grabbed her notepad and pen again, then started rooting around for something else in the backpack she’d brought. “The Chase, part one. Secret messages. Ooh, that’s good.” She opened the book and labeled the first page with that title. Bill bit his tongue to stop himself from pointing out that huge pink bubble letters weren’t the best choice for subtlety.

“Now,” she said, throwing the notebook down like a frazzled detective presenting her notes. “I would’ve loved to, like, build a two-way radio out of soda cans, or find a way to send smoke signals through the A/C system or something. But I think we should wait on that ‘til later. Right now, simplicity’s the name of the game.” With a victorious flourish, she revealed the thing she’d fished out of the bag. It took a second for Bill to parse what the battered old thing even was. A cell phone. An ancient, blocky brick of a flip-screen cell phone.

“YEESH!” he exclaimed as she shoved it into his hands. “WHAT ANCIENT BURIAL GROUND DIDJA DIG THIS THING OUT OF? IT’S OLD ENOUGH TO BE YOUR DAD!”

Mabel snorted. “Give me a break! It was the best one I could find in the closet where Grunkle Stan keeps all his burner phones.”

“WELL, I’D HATE TO SEE THE COMPETITION!” Bill remarked. “WHAT WAS THE WORST ONE, A CLAY TABLET? A BONE CARVED FLUTE TO CALL THE NEANDERTHAL TRIBE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOUNTAIN?”

Mabel hid a giggle behind the turtleneck of her sweater. All according to plan. Jokes were a great way of lowering a mark’s defenses, even if they didn’t land. And despite her best efforts, Shooting Star was a good audience.

He held down the power button and marvelled as the dusty, scuffed screen actually lit up. “WHAAAT! LOOK AT THIS LOGO! THIS COMPANY WENT UNDER IN 2002! THE CEO BURNED DOWN THE OFFICE TO HIDE TAX FRAUD AND MELTED HIS EYELIDS OFF!”

Mabel clapped her hands over her ears. “Ugh!! Why would you tell me that?”

“BECAUSE IT’S HILARIOUS! THE GUY WAS A TOTAL LOSER ANYWAY, HE WAS TOO UPTIGHT TO TAKE MY DEAL AND COULDN’T EVEN HANDLE A WEEK OF NIGHT TERRORS BEFORE HE CRACKED—”

“Anyway!” She cut him off. “This was the only phone I found in the closet that could send texts. We need to be able to keep in touch, so you can let me know if you’re hurt or need more supplies, and I can warn you if people upstairs can hear you practicing your evil laugh or something.”

“WHA— HEY! WHO EVEN— NOBODY NEEDS TO PRACTICE THEIR LAUGH, THAT’S JUST STUPID.” Bill hoped he didn’t sound too defensive. There was no way she actually knew about that, right?

She just rolled her eyes, holding back a smile. “Point is, that phone is yours. Nobody’ll recognize that number. My number’s in there already, you can text me in morse code if you need something.”

Bill looked up from the phone screen to squint at her. “MORSE? C’MON, KID.”

“What’s wrong with morse?”

“THAT’S THE MOST BASIC CODE IN EXISTENCE! YOU REALLY THINK ANYBODY IN THIS HOUSE WOULDN’T RECOGNIZE MORSE WHEN THEY SAW IT?” he said. “YOU THINK THEY’LL SEE YOU ANSWERING TEXTS IN MORSE FROM SOME RANDOM NUMBER AND HAVE ANY OTHER THOUGHT BESIDES ‘SHE’S HIDING SOMETHING’?”

Mabel sighed. “Okay, fine, Mr. Code Snob. What should we use?”

“WE SHOULDN’T ‘USE’ ANYTHING. WE JUST KEEP THINGS VAGUE AND SIMPLE,” he said. “ANYTHING THAT EVEN LOOKS LIKE IT MIGHT BE CODE WILL JUST GET PEOPLE’S ATTENTION. BESIDES, IN A HOUSE FULL OF CON ARTISTS AND MYSTERY DORKS, I DOUBT THERE’S ANY CODE WE COULD USE ON THIS THING THAT NONE OF THEM WILL RECOGNIZE. THESE TEXTS NEED TO BE AS BORING AND UN-MYSTERIOUS AS THEY CAN POSSIBLY BE. SO BORING THAT NOT EVEN PINETREE IN HIS SNOOPIEST MOOD WOULD GLANCE AT ‘EM TWICE.”

Mabel pursed her lips. “Spam!” she said after a minute. “Dipper and I get spam texts from random numbers all the time. We can make up a system where I know what you’re saying based on what you’re trying to sell me. Like a scam alphabet!”

Bill’s eye crinkled with his version of a grin. “NOW YOU’RE TALKING!”

Mabel grabbed her pen and started rattling off scams to list in her notebook. Stan had clearly taught her well, and between the both of them they soon had a massive list to work from. On the opposite page, they listed phrases to match with each scam. “NEED FOOD”, “NEED SUPPLIES”, “INJURY”, “FIRE”, “RACCOON GOT IN”, and so on. As soon as they had a workable “alphabet”, the kid insisted they start deciding on secret knocks. They’d just started to argue about whether “shave-and-a-haircut” was too uncreative, when suddenly Mabel stopped short and held out a hand. Before Bill could ask what was up, he realized what she’d heard. A voice from upstairs. A voice that was much too prepubescent to be Ford’s.

“Dipper’s up,” Mabel hissed. “Why is Dipper up? He never gets up this early on his own… Did he notice I was gone? Is he looking for me?? How am I gonna get back up without—”

“GEEZ, RELAX,” Bill said. “LOOK, THE STAIRCASE TO THE ATTIC IS RIGHT ACROSS FROM THIS ONE. JUST WAIT UNTIL HE’S IN THE KITCHEN…” he pointed to that corner of the house, from where Ford’s voice was now ringing through the ceiling, “AND YOU CAN SNEAK BACK UP WITHOUT BUMPING INTO HIM. JUST DON’T LET HIM SEE YOU LEAVING THE BASEMENT, AND WE’LL BE FINE.”

“I don’t like how much you know about our house.”

Bill pointed to his eye. “REMEMBER HOW HALF THE DECOR IN HERE USED TO BE MY EYES?”

“Yeah, duh. Doesn’t mean it’s not creepy.” She shuddered, and Bill tried not to laugh. At least the memory of his powers still inspired fear… but he didn’t want her knowing how happy that made him.

Mabel gathered up her stuff and headed for the door. “I gotta go before he notices I’m not sleeping. Soon as I get a chance, I’ll sneak back down and we’ll sort out the other stuff on my checklist.”

“FAIR ENOUGH. BE SEEING YOU, KID.” He couldn’t resist putting a little extra emphasis on that word, pointing to his eye again with a smug, half-lidded smile. Shooting Star was his ally for now, sure. But she shouldn’t forget where things really stood. He was the one who was really in control here.

“And I’ll use the We Will Rock You knock.”

“UGH, COME ON!” Bill protested. “I’M TELLING YOU, SHAVE-AND-A-HAIRCUT IS THE GO-TO FOR A REASON, IT’S PRACTICAL—“

“See ya later!” She winked and vanished through the door. The lock clicked heavily into place.

Bill glared daggers at the door until the sound of footsteps had faded away. Then he took off his hat and rifled through the lining, taking a reassuring glance at his folded-up notes. And the paper clip fastening them in place. That dumb kid put way too much trust in that lock. Did she really not realize the danger she’d let into her house? Did she really not know what she was dealing with?

His eye was drawn in by a soft gleam from deep within the hat. He brushed some fabric aside and stared at the fragment of his dimension. It caught the dim light in the room and threw it back much brighter, twisted into colors that didn’t exist anymore. It hurt to look at it with this new eye. He let his gaze rest on it longer than he should have.

Then he tore his eye away and shoved the hat back on. No, she definitely didn’t know. The fact he was still here— still alive— was proof enough of that.

[distant--shadow]

The witch and the widow chapters 1-4 author’s notes

Ok, so first off I feel I gotta preface this by saying I am absolutely not a history buff. Kinda the opposite of one really. I was one of less than 10% of the kids in my year of 300 or so that didn’t take history at GCSEs, mostly caus a subject taught and based around names and dates etc is the definition of something not suited for my type of brain, also I hugely lost interest in it caus we moved past the fun trebuchet eras and all that real fast and it became of slog of me falling asleep in lessons caus I had a teacher whose method was putting on movies and shutting the blinds (I’d always fall asleep and he was later jailed for being a p*edophile, so that’s a thing.) Anyway, all that to say I’m not good at this shit, but as ive gotten older I have taken a bigger interest in queer history in particular, and that often if not always links into other areas such as fashion, women’s rights, religion,the arts, class, and race etc. (I’m still not good at names and dates though!)

They are outfitted and arsenalled - the stones of the wall - in a manner to rival any army; tapestries of red and gold perhaps once brandished on battlefield as banners promenading around death now retired and indoor-still-air-still as taxidermy giving colour between all of the shades of metal, burnished and polished and in some cases rusting, some still purposefully left blood-stained, swords and pikes and maces arranged in wallpaper patterns as though flowers or fans, sword-sheath beams spreading from chest-plate armour suns.

Let’s start with something easy and recent. The Baron’s armoury was inspired by a few castles I’ve visited, these rooms are always so bizarre to me. I don’t know if this is at all of the time/how they were decorated or a more recent thing, but either way it’s pretty wild but I do love the visual and metaphor of it. In this one castle I found out from talking about the carpentry to an attendant that the decorative ceiling work around the chandelier above the dining room table actually hid a trapdoor - and there was other hidden doorways for passages and to secret rooms in this castle, that’s not that unusual - but this particular trapdoor was to allow for the chandeliers to be switched out. Why? Caus they had them in multiple colours of glass, and the lady of the castle liked the chandelier to co-ordinate with her dress if they were having guests round. Aint that such a flex? Definitely some food for future thought.

Aight. Clothing. So anyone that chats fic/au to me or is in my server has probably heard me yell to go watch Kaz Rowe’s videos many times. As I’ve said this fic aint meant to be historically accurate but it does kinda straddle histories, one of which being our own; so women wearing trousers and the like at this time would still be a crime, and draw a lot of attention . Imogen in men’s clothing genuinely isn’t meant to be much of a gender thing but a thing of practicality, and she has mostly lived in the countryside or in the outskirts, so she does not get into the trouble she would should she go into the towns and cities (another reason to keep away past the potential noise, but this Imogen will happily don a dress or skirts if she needs to, she’s just usually working – and maybe it’s a bonus that dressing as a man acts as a sort of flagging for any women who might be interested lol.)

I guess here I should mention how I think this version of Imogen's powers and how they’ve manifested (along with everyone else being unaware of them) will have somewhat changed her disposition and personality, it is a lot more aligned with later campaign Imogen who has more confidence and empowerment, she hasn’t been ostracised for her abilities or particularly bombarded by them, think more like when she has her circlet on, she chooses to listen in (mostly), although of course she has still heard many terrible things (and her life has still been pretty brutal but that’s to be written still).

(it’ll be really fun in this regard getting to explore and explain this version of Laudna, but early days for giving much away on that yet!)

Her skirts are full and structured and plumed by many layers of petticoats that hide the movement of her feet across the wildflower lawn, causing her to appear to be drifting like the bees do from petal to petal, pollen dusting her pleats though ghostly her skin in contrast to the fine fabrics that she dresses for the part, black in mourning, still, bodice tight and sleeve leg of mutton, an ornate decorative layer of black lace laying over each yard of textured textile like spider webs on porcelain patterns, her husband's tableware collecting dust in the kitchen cupboard.

real impractical for how tending towards practical the Lady dares to be, hands on, too busy for errant hairs in piano key ivory and ebony windswept and loose from the high bun she pins in place with a cameo broach, a memento mori engraved in silver and inlayed with ruby eyes and tied with red ribbons. Her skin also proudly displays the age and perhaps trauma that her hair does, lines from laughter and furrowed brows and the feet of the crows that cry from the top of the chimney pots

A little note as to say that Laudna’s appearance is heavily influenced by Victorian mourning wear, with some of the clothes cuts altered to be a little bit more regency and earlier in places. (her  attire is a little outdated, further suggesting her distancing from society and fashion)

A couple of days ago Imogen happened upon a bird with an injured wing, crying helplessly and rolling in circles, feathers taking flight away from the bird that could not, settling around it as it panicked itself bald-

The bird could not live without the use of its wing, and it didn’t, whether that was by Prosciutto or a fox, only its feathers were left in a pile.

Imogen had gathered them into an empty burlap sack; taken them to one of the maids downstairs to clean, repurpose them for filling pillows.

Here’s a silly little easter egg for my p(r)oof reader. Last time he visited we was enjoying a cinnamon roll from the local bakery by the city river (as you do) and a cyclist hit a seagull. It was real distressing, the seagull was distressed too. A handfull of middle aged women stood around it not wanting or knowing how to intervene as its wing was twisted at a crazy angle and it flapped about in a pile of its own feathers, there’s still bird flu about so it is wise to not touch wild birds, and as bleak as it is I was saying to freshy that a wild bird who’s wings broken like that is gonna die, and probably slowly and painfully. Some man came along and lifted up the bird to take the bird off the path and laid it to rest behind an old bridge building, I think he must have mercy killed it too as the bird was already dead when we walked past 10 or so minutes later after finishing our cinnamon roll and giving a cautious glance. So there’s a nice happy memory thrown in there for him.

what appears to be driftwood breaches the surface, then another point, then another

the water belches

Ceviche scares, whinnying as he rears onto his back legs, the Lady leaning forward and clinging to his harness. Imogen stands in her stirrups, leaning across the gap over to the black stallion, grasping his reins and cooing

“All good, boy, all good-”

What had appeared to be driftwood lands on the surface with a slap, looking like the carcass of an old boat left to rot in the muddy bed of a dock, timber ribcaged and leathered skin cladding.

A femur surfaces, followed by a jaw.

Second easter egg for the p(r)oof is a quick one (I’m such a considerate writer, I know.) On a train ride to a loch we went to for a day out there is a stop that is on another lake/body of water, and right by the train tracks (which are at water height) there are 4 or 5 old ships stuck in the mud, most of them just the frames/structures of the old boats, mostly wood and some bits of metal, but they’re pretty big boats! It really looks like whale carcasses. I’ve always wanted to get of there and check it out, and we were gonna stop by on the way back but my health being what it is was giving me some grief that day so we missed 2 trains and then soon the daylight, so hopefully next time buddy.

There’s alotta meat and gore talk and Imogen being a vegetarian without the label for such is just another way of me playing round with all of her complex feelings about what the Lady might be doing, her feelings towards Angharad butchering and nourishing the women with these communal stews and all of that. I’ve been vegetarian myself for 20 years now, and it was all triggered by an existential crisis in my mid teens (still a huge fan of leather and blood though) – Imogen greatly cares about animals, struggles with the thought of anything being slaughtered, she is in some ways more empathetic than most because she knows those she does on so much more of a personal level, really feels how someone is reacting to a situation they are in, but also because of this she knows humans are often corrupt and vile and she is spared such thoughts from animals, only knows their instincts and the love and comfort and service they bring – and yet she will obsess over the Lady’s (potential) tooling on that saddlework leather that’s really fucking brutal if she thinks about it one way and beautiful if she thinks about it another hmmm what if everything’s not black and white.

Oh, and the stew is a homage to @picturesofthegoneworlds’ pre-campaign fic Intertwined which I am lucky enough to co-parent and her writing is hugely influential on mine.

There’s a few things being bread crumb trailed here that I can’t explain in the author notes yet, but I’m looking forward to when I can. One small detail I will give away is just a silly thing about the chapter headings. They are something of significance from within the chapter, given in its ‘proper’ name – maybe someone gets access to some books to do research at some point?

anyways, thanks @astoriacolumnstaircase for enabling me. will do another post like this for future chapters if folks find it interesting.

[heartofthedragons]

Rotten Deal Pt. 2

Modern!Aegon x fem!reader

Summary: When your ex boyfriend cheats on you and spreads a vicious rumor about you, you want to make him suffer. So you make a deal with the man you can’t stand: Aegon, the most infamous fuckboy at KLU.

Chapter Summary: It’s day one of your deal and it starts off with a bang and a mix of emotions.

Warning(s): Cursing, Suggestive Language, Suggestive Situations, Making Out, Mentions of parental neglect

Word Count: 1779 words

It’s been about an hour and a half of sitting in the library teaching Aegon, and it’s already a huge undertaking. He keeps zoning out and goofing off, more interested in goofing off and cracking jokes than actually learning the content.

“You know. You need my help much more than I need yours,” you say in annoyance as you catch a glimpse of Aegon scrolling on his phone hidden beneath the table.

Aegon looks at you with a mild scowl before clicking off his phone and going to put it in his pocket. You grab his phone quickly and pry it from his hands. “Ah ah. I’ll be holding on to this for the remainder of this lesson,” you say before putting the phone aside and out of reach of the silver haired boy.

“C’mon Y/N. It’s really not a big deal. I get what you’re saying. I don’t even know why we need to learn this stuff. They’ve all been dead for thousands of years.”

You roll your eyes, turning your head back to the textbook and notes before you, “It’s important because we can learn from their mistakes. Their society collapsed, it’s important to see what contributed to their rise and subsequent fall.”

“Easy. Something something blood magic bad. Something something slavery also very bad,”

“And…?”

“And what?”

“What else was bad, Aegon?” You ask trying desperately to get him to remember at least one crucial thing from today.

“Experimentation?” He asks, clearly unsure of his answer.

A satisfied smile takes over your face. “That’s right. Unethical animal and human experimentation and torture.”

You look at him for a moment. He’s smiling to himself and you can see there’s a hint of pride in his eyes. “You know,” you begin casually, “I’m surprised you don’t know more about of this stuff. Isn’t your dad, like, obsessed with old Valyria?”

Aegon deflates. “Uh…yeah. He is,” he says insecurely, “But old fucker doesn’t know I exist, let alone talk to me about stuff. He’s too busy obsessing over my older sister to pay attention to any of his other kids.” The bitterness and hurt is evident on his face. You’ve seen that same look on his and his siblings' faces before. Dejected and hurt. You remember seeing that look on Helaena’s face when her father didn’t come to her art show in high school. And Aemond’s face when his father wasn’t there to support his win in debate. And even Aegon, back when you two used to be close, searching through the stands hoping his dad was there to cheer him on in softball.

You feel bad. You should’ve known better. But before you can say anything, Aegon is back to his usual confident self, “It doesn’t matter though. I’ve got myself a sexy little teacher to help me learn.”

He leans in close to you, throwing an arm around the back of your chair, “Speaking of. Let’s talk about your half of our little deal.”

“What about it?”

“Come on, sweetheart. You really think anyone is gonna believe we’re fucking when all they see is you annoyed with me in the library?” You sigh and begin to put away the books, you suppose that’s enough studying for day one.

“What do you propose we do?” You ask. Aegon shoots you his confident smile, “People need to see us out together. Talking, flirting, kissing.” You grunt at the last words. “We also need to spend some time together in my room if we want it to be believable.”

You shoot him a glare and he playfully raises his arms in surrender. “I’m not saying we bang it out in there, though I can’t guarantee you won’t want to,” he says flirtingly. You have him with your elbow getting him to back off. “I’m just saying that any girl that I’d be having sex with more than once will be in my room once in a while. You wanna be believable? You gotta do it right.”

You nod. This is what you signed up for after all. “Ok. So where do we start?”

Aegon grins and stands up from his seat, hand outstretched to you. “Well. Today we can start by being seen around campus together. Talking. Flirting. That’ll get the rumors started.”

You accept his hand and ride from your seat slinging your bag over your shoulder and handing his phone back to him.

Aegon smiles as he slips his phone in his pocket and saddles up beside you. He snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you in close, leaning to whisper in your ear, “And make sure you look like you’re enjoying your time with me, beautiful.”

You roll your eyes before flashing him a flirty smile. He’s taken aback. It’s been a long time since he’s seen you smile at him. He likes how you look when you smile, if only you’d do it more around him.

“Let’s go, pretty lady. We have heads to turn.” You both make your way out of the library, and you’re all too aware of just how close Aegon is to you. His arm is gripping your waist tightly, his side pressed against yours, his face not too far from yours. You feel your chest squeeze, but you ignore the feeling.

As you walk together, you realize just what a presence Aegon really is on KLU’s campus. People are watching the two of you from everywhere. Many of them look on in confusion at the unequal match you and Aegon are.

Aegon feels you tense in discomfort and lightly squeezes you in reassurance. You look up at him with worry, and he smiles at you in return. “Relax. Just ignore them. Besides, you should be proud to be on my arm.”

You want to shove him or groan out at his cockiness, but you remember that this is part of the show, so you smile at him and giggle lightly.

You ease into his touch and try to act like you're comfortable with this. Like you’re not two people who avoid each other. Like you’re not two former friends who stopped being close. Like this isn’t awkward and scary and uncomfortable for you. And definitely not like your heart feels like it’ll thump right through your chest. ‘You hate him,’ you tell yourself, ‘Right?’

Aegon is completely contrary to you. He feels perfectly content in this moment, enjoying all the attention the two of you are getting.

“You know, love. I’ve been meaning to ask-,” he begins to say but he’s cut off when he hears you gasp and you stop in your tracks. He looks at you in worry, but follows your wide eyed gaze to the building ahead. And there he is. The golden haired bastard, Jason Lannister.

Jason looks at the two of you incredulously. His gaze is inspecting you both. Aegon smirks to himself before pulling you away towards the side of the building ahead of you. What better time to show off than now?

He spins you around so your back is against the wall and slides the bag off your shoulder to fall to the ground. Aegon leans over you against the wall, slightly caging you. You look at him with wide eyes and he smirks down at you. He leans down to whisper in your ear briefly. “Stop me if I go to far,” he says.

Before you can say anything, Aegon cups your cheek and leans in to kiss you. It’s gentler than you thought he would be, lips soft and plush against yours. You kiss him back trying to remind yourself that this is part of the deal. It’s all a show, and this means nothing. Nothing.

Things soon change when Aegon feels you kiss him back. His hands slides down from your cheek and begins running against your torso and brushing his hand against your chest. You gasp and Aegon pulls away for a second to let out a breathy laugh and smile. “Sorry,” he murmurs unconvincingly before leaning back in to kiss you.

This time his mouth is open testing to see if you’ll match his motions, and you do opening your mouth for each kiss. It’s inviting and Aegon tries to hold back his smirk and he slides his tongue into your mouth.

His arm settles on your hip and pulls you flush against him, continuing to kiss you and explore your mouth with his tongue. It feels so good. Gods be damned if he doesn’t know how to kiss with all the practice.

You’re putty in his hands. Completely melted into him. He pulls away and admired the way you search for him with closed eyes. He raises his hand again to push your hair back from the left side of your neck beginning to leave open mouthed kisses along it. He nips at the soft flesh and you let out a soft almost inaudible whine.

You can’t help but enjoy the feeling of the passionate kisses littering your neck, even if it’s Aegon doing it. Seven hells, maybe that’s why you like it. Not that you’d like to admit that to yourself.

Aegon is enjoying it too. He like seeing you drop your icy exterior, and even more so, he enjoys watching your blissed out face. And then his eyes drift to the side of you two.

Jason Lannister is watching your show with a grimace. Aegon can see how he’s seething at the display. He smirks at Jason and shoot him a wink before giving you one more passionate kiss. It’s messy and his tongue is brushing against yours and his hands are romancing all over you. And then it’s over.

Aegon pulls back with a satisfied look and you gaze at him in shock. Your heart is beating hard and though you’ve just been kissed, your mouth feels dry. You’re breathing hard as you search through your emotions, not understanding any of the complexities of your feelings.

Aegon seems to be completely at peace though. Smirking at you before grabbing your bag and pulling you off the wall. He leads you away from where Jason is standing.

“Not bad, hot stuff. You’ll be getting Jason jealous in no time,” he says with a laugh before slugging his arm over your shoulders.

He’s acting normally. Like he doesn’t care about what happened. Like he didn’t just kiss you passionately in front of so many people. ‘It’s all an act,’ you remind yourself, ‘This is just part of the deal.’

You try to shake away the thoughts and the sinking feeling in your chest. This is what you asked for. This is what you asked him to do. And it doesn’t matter anyways. You don’t like Aegon. You can’t stand him.

Right?

Part 1

Tag List: @fan-goddess @serving-targaryen-realness @gibbsgirl7 @f4ll-for-you @mybeautifuldelirium @introverbatim @mysingularitybts @shroomietrip

[artdcnaldson]

GODDDDD corrupting art au!!! its so perfect you just get it!!

after that she’ll just keep taunting him, maybe she’ll go out and fuck some random guy and the next day just talk art’s ear off about alllll the details. he says he doesn’t mind listening to it but in reality he’s fighting the horny voices in his head :(( and while she’s talking she can see the outline of his cock start to grow in his shorts and she’s just like wow this is my personal project now. maybe she’ll even reenact some of the positions just to “give him the full picture” (she just lovesss seeing him stutter and cover himself with something to hide the boner)

and yeah she doesn’t bring it up then, the fact that she heard him in the shower, but ohhhh what happens when she purposefully jerks off while he’s home and he “accidentally” walks in on her??? he apologizes and pretends to cover his eyes but he can’t bring himself to get out of the room :( he’s just curious, he tells himself, that’s all. what happens when he thinks she’ll stop but she just keeps going and just tells him between moans “it’s okay art, you can look. a little something for your spank bank while you wait for your bride to be”

- 🐚

GODDDDDDD this has me like biting thru drywall crying sobbing leaking etc etc

Poor Art just has to sit there and take it. He’s awake playing video games when you get back from a date. Patrick’s asleep, crashed after a long day of providing tennis lessons to bratty kids. Art gives a nervous, friendly smile and asks how it went.

And that’s how he’s stuck on the sofa listening to you talk about your latest conquest. “Anyways, I was straddling him, y’know, like—“ you pause, meet his gaze. “— sorry, you don’t know. I’ll just show you.”

He holds his breath as you shift into his lap. You don’t even settle your weight down on him, you’re not that mean. You just kind of hold yourself above him, so, so close. “I was moving kind of like this—“ you roll your hips, make him blush just at the sight. “Kind of slow, so he could savor it, y’know? It’s not like I’m going to fuck him again after that shitshow of a date.”

“If you— if the date was so bad why did you…”

“Fuck him?” You ask, raising a brow. Art nods wordlessly. “Because he was pretty.” You trail your hand along his face, tuck a blond curl behind his ear. He took a shaky breath, swallowed hard. “And because my friend Tiff said he was hung. She wasn’t wrong. But it doesn’t even matter, because he didn’t even last two minutes after I got on top. Waste of my fucking time.”

“That’s—“ he squeezes his eyes shut, like he can’t even think when he’s looking at you.

“It’s what, Art?” You ask, a tiny grin spreading across your lips. You drop your voice to a whisper. “Is it slutty? Do you wish I was a good girl and didn’t talk about this kind of stuff?”

He doesn’t respond, might not even be capable of trying to, honestly. You climb off his lap and settle back on the sofa beside him. You clock his boner immediately— tenting his thin pajama pants.

Jesus fucking Christ. He notices that you’re looking and grabs a random throw pillow to pull into his lap. Poor guy. If he just said the word, you’d take care of it for him.

“I’m gonna go read,” you tell him, which is a bullshit excuse. Really, your date Sean hadn’t made you cum despite the fucking monster he was packing, and seeing Art all riled up doesn’t really help.

The second you’ve shut the door, you shimmy off the dress you picked for the night and collapse onto the bed with a huff. The cute date night panties you picked were soaked, no thanks to Sean. No, it was all because of Art Donaldson. Sweet, repressed, horny-as-hell Art.

You sigh softly as your fingers tease your entrance— all wet and sensitive. Your hips cant pathetically as you trail your wet fingers to your clit, rub gently, just to get started.

You think of Art’s pathetic cries in the shower, of him waking up hard and rutting against his mattress until his boxers are sticky and soaked with cum. Patrick had told you about that— he’d laughed over the phone, talked about how adorable it was. Art insisted it wasn’t the same as jerking off the normal way since he didn’t use his hands. He probably does that a lot with how repressed he is. Your cunt throbs, aching with want.

You plunge one finger into your pussy, then a second. Any other night you might have pulled out a toy, but you wanted to make it quick. It’s nice, easy to lose yourself in the slick, warmth inside.

Your efforts on your clit speeds up. Your back arches as you grind your pussy down against your fingers. Your toes curl, head falls back.

Before you can react, the door flies open. “Hey, I just wanted to say—“ he freezes, eyes going wide. “Oh.”

But he doesn’t leave. Very obviously doesn’t leave. And you don’t stop, it’s too sweet, the way he’s looking at you. His eyes are glued to where your fingers disappear inside of your cunt, his mouth agape.

“Art,” you whine. He tears his eyes from your pussy, makes himself look into your eyes. “Shut the door.”

He swallows, closes the door behind him. You try to hide your shock that he shut the door and stayed inside of the room— that he didn’t flee and go cry in his bed because he caught a glimpse of your pussy.

But no, his back presses against the wood and he stays stuck in place as his eyes trail back down to your cunt. Soft, wet, and, god, so tempting. You can tell he wants to crawl to you on his knees, bury his face between your thighs and wait for your instructions.

“It doesn’t count if you just watch, hm?” You tease, but your voice is strangled with want— all breathy and affected. “It you come closer, you can hear how wet I am.”

It’s like he takes the steps outside of his own volition, kneels at the side of the bed like he’s going to pray. His eyes flutter shut, lashes splashed against his cheeks. God, you really are so wet— the near pornographic squelch of your fingers as they fuck into your pussy should make your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“You’re so sweet, aren’t you?” You bite down on your lip to muffle a moan, conscious that Patrick is asleep across the guest house.

You see his arm moving, know he’s stroking himself over the fabric of his pajamas. It’s like he can’t even help it, can’t resist the urge to get himself off. It’s a rush, having that power over him.

“It’s okay that you’re watching, Art. I hope you remember every second. You deserve to imagine a pretty, wet pussy while you fuck your fist.”

He whines, honest to god whines. The sound makes you cum suddenly with soft, breathy moans— drenching your fingers in your release. Your thighs tremble as you come down, and Art just looks at you with big blue eyes, like he thinks he did something wrong. You doubt he’s ever seen a girl cum before. It’s exciting, to be his first like that.

You wipe your slick fingers on your thigh and cover yourself with a throw blanket. Art’s gaze flicks back up to your eyes. “What did you come in here for, Art?”

“Huh?” He blinks a few times, shakes his head. “I, uh. I came here to tell you, uh—“

You smile, lean closer. He takes a deep breath, his jaw clenched tight. It’s like he’s angry that you dare tempt him, that you question his resolve. You think he might actually hate you for it. “Tell me…?”

“You don’t have to use your body to make people want you,” he says. “It’s like you have no self respect.”

“And what does the stain on the front of your pants say about your self respect, Art?” You say, voice dropping into a whisper. His cheeks flame, and he stands suddenly. “You had your fun, now get out before I tell Patrick you were perving on me.”

He glares at you, fixes you in place with one fiery look. It’s intoxicating— the places where his restraint runs thin. You can’t help but grin after he’s gone and you’re all alone, wondering just how easy it would be to tear those threadbare spots and reveal the needy, desperate thing beneath.

[staytinyville]

Stay Alive (26)

BTS poly!ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: smut (MDNI), piv, unprotected sex (we don't do that here),

A/N NOT BETA. Honest opinion yall what you think of my smut lol

You giggled at the younger patients wading around in the pool, trying to learn how to swim. Jimin along with other patients, were holding swim lessons to help the younger kids know the basics. While the only time they got to swim was in the pool, Jimin thought it was best to teach them if the day ever comes that they are freed from this hell. 

“You're doing good!” Jimin praised one of the girls. 

You had a bright smile on your face, putting out towels once the lessons came to an end and everyone got ready to leave. 

“Good work everyone!” Jimin called, waving goodbye to the other patients. 

He nodded his head to some of the other volunteer instructors–most of which were older people who had gotten the chance to learn how to swim before being imprisoned. You gave them kind smiles as they passed you, thank you for the towel you handed them. 

You turned back to Jimin, watching as he ducked under the water causing it to ripple. A soft smile formed on your face the more you watched him do what looked like a dance. It was mesmerizing to watch. 

He popped back out, grinning when he saw you making your way closer to the edge. He waded over, placing his arms along the cement.

“You're amazing with children.” You told him, giving him a water bottle.

“I'm just a great swim teacher.” Jimin chuckled. 

He suddenly frowned after taking gulps of the water. You watched as he dropped his head onto his arms, his legs kicking in the water. 

“There's a lot of kids here who were taken from their families.” He sighed deeply. “They don't get a lot of education for practical things so I asked to be a swim instructor.” He explained. 

“Jungkook helps with physical exercises, Taehyung does art, Jin helps people with cooking, and Hobi teaches magic to the kids.” He smiled softly. “It’s just little things that people should get in their everyday lives. They might try to bribe us with things but we know the truth. This isn’t the life people deserve.”

“I think you guys are amazing to want to teach the younger ones.” You moved your fingers through Jimin’s wet hair, causing him to grin. 

“We got the chance but they won't.” He pressed his lips together. “They're missing so much from their abilities–someone has to tell them.”

“How old is the youngest?” You asked him.

He thought about it for a moment. “Ni-ki is 17.” 

“When was he brought in?” You frowned, shoulders dropping at the idea of such a young boy being stuck here for so long. 

“5 years ago. That was the last time they brought in people.” Jimin explained. “They said they closed off the portal that was used to travel between the worlds.”

“They took a 12 year old from his parents?” You cried, your eyes starting to hurt from the tears piling up. “Jimin, this isn't okay. Why would anyone do this?” 

Jimin quickly pulled himself up from the water, sitting at the ledge of the pool. “He's a greed demon. It's what he does.” Jimin sighed, bringing you in for a hug. You didn’t care for getting your clothing wet, knowing you’ll just ask to borrow some of the boys. 

“We'll save them.” Jimin told you, hand rubbing the back of your neck. “It's something all of us decided to do when they brought in the people after us. No one deserves this.”

He looked down when you began to shake, your tears hitting his wet skin. “Hey don't cry, beautiful.” He pulled you back, wiping at your tears. “We'll get through this.” He told you. 

When your sniffles wouldn’t stop, he looked down at the water before turning back to you. “How about I show you something?” He told you, dropping back into the pool. 

“Show me what?” You tried to stop your tears from falling, wiping at them with the towel you were going to give Jimin. 

“Watch.” He smiled at you before disappearing under the water. 

You leaned over the edge, looking down into the dark pool. You weren’t able to see all the way to the bottom, probably going much deeper than you would be able to swim in. However as you tried to find where Jimin had gone, you suddenly saw a shimmer of scales breach up into the light. You gasped, trying to find the figure again. You quickly fell backwards as a mermaid looking tail made a splash on the surface. You flinched as the water sprayed on your, moving an arm up to keep the chlorine from getting into your eye. 

As you lowered your arm, another gasp pulled from your lips. Jimin’s head had popped out of the water, his nose still under. You could see pale scales surrounding his face, leading to sharply pointed ears. As he swam closer, you moved back to the edge. The more he pulled himself out, the more of his true form you could see. 

His gills moved on the side of his neck, two openings on each side. As he used his hands to pull himself closer to the ledge, the fins on the side of his forearm caught your attention. His fingers flexed, causing the webbing between them to stretch. His nails were also pointed just as sharply as his ears were. 

You giggled when he pushed closer to your face, his nose almost brushing up against yours. The fins along his back moved up and down his spine, closing and opening back up. Your eyes moved to the tail that flicked behind him, its gray fins moving in the water as if it was hair.

“You look—beautiful.” You choked out, staring at his tail swishing along the waves. “Jimin, you're extraordinary.” You told him, looking back at him. 

“Thank you, beautiful.” Jimin spoke quietly, his breath hitting your lips. 

Without thinking about it, you dropped your head down and planted your lips against his plush ones. They were wet and not from him licking them. It was almost like he had gloss–and most often than not it did look like he did. But you figured it was something having to do with his abilities. 

You pulled your head back as Jimin pushed himself out of the pool, his scales and fins disappearing the more he came out of the water. You didn’t pay any attention to it though, instead placing your hands on his face to keep him close. 

Your noses bumped against each other, teeth clashing just a bit. You gasped out with something pointed touched the tip of your lips, allowing him room to slip his tongue into your mouth. It was like the end of a tentacle, but still felt like a normal tongue. It just had a weird shape to it. 

With Jimin now fully out of the water, he crawled over your body, pushing you to lay back onto the floor. You didn’t pay attention to how his skin was wet, your scrubs dried him. At least until his webbing hands moved to pull your shirt up and over your head. 

Jimin pulled back and watched as you seemed to look towards the locker room entrance, before moving your attention back to him. You watched as his eyes went glossy for a moment before smiling down at you. 

“Don’t worry, I asked Taehyung to put my sign on the door.” He told you. 

You smiled at him, enjoying how he knew what you meant with just one look. That or maybe you were just transmitting your thoughts into his without knowing. You didn’t care to think more about as Jimin went back to peppering your neck with kisses. 

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs crossing behind his back as he quickly picked you up. His hands were placed under your thighs, fingers inching closer to your core that seemed to radiate so much heat. He could feel your lower lips through your scrubs, the water from his dip in the pool having soaked you through. Though even if he wasn’t wet, you were sure you would have soaked through without him. 

You back made contact with cold metal, realizing it was a bench he had set you down on. Your legs dropped from his waist which gave Jimin the moment to strip you of your pants. Raising your hips, you made a face at the wet metal. Jimin took notice and moved to grab a towel from the other end. 

“Lean up.” He told you. 

As you sat up, he was kind to place the towel down on the bench. You wanted to giggle at how domestic it seemed. You were about to have sex with Jimin in the pool area–which was public–and here he was trying to make you comfortable. 

When everything was set down, you laid back down, quickly pulling Jimin back to you causing him to gasp. 

“That was sweet of you.” You giggled, pecking his lips. 

His puffy lips pulled into a dazzling grin. “Gotta make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.”

You giggled as he began to suck on your skin again. He didn’t leave marks, only giving you kisses and a tease from his pointed tongue as it poked out from between his lips. He made his way down, your back arching as he paid close attention to your chest. He didn’t stay too long though, quickly moving down your naval and to the band of your underwear. 

You gulped as you watched his slitted eyes glance up at you. You realized how much being a siren really fit Jimin. His looks were something that called your attention. His personality was what brought you into his waters. And you were swimming deeply in them. 

When you felt the cold air brush against your core, you let out a breath. You gasped as you felt Jimin’s breath hitting your thighs, back arching as you began to feel your nerves spark from the proximity.

Jimin looked up at you with hooded eyes, his lips skimming over the skin of your thighs causing you to flinch. He looked down at your core, eyes filled with lust as he grew closer. Your legs placed themselves on his shoulders, knees going over his shoulders. 

The small flick of his pointed tongue on your clit, you gasped out loudly, almost sitting up in your haste. Jimin leaned up though, quickly holding your hips down. His tongue was long if he wanted it to be. So while the fat part of it laid against your clit, the tip probbed at your entrance. 

You were withering from the pleasure, grinding against his tongue the best you could with his arm holding you down. Your moans only seemed to spur Jimin on more as he allowed his entire appendage to enter your heat. This caused you to cry out, hands trying to reach out to grab onto something. 

Jimin moved one of hands into yours, intertwining your fingers together. You began to clench down on his tongue, but he quickly pulled back before you were able to cum. You cried, wanting to sit up and find why he had stopped. But when you looked at him, you saw him quickly taking off his swim shorts. 

Your pussy clenched as you moaned from the sight of him. Your fingers reached for the towel under you again, clenching the fabric. He crawled back over you, fingers delicately swiping against your cheeks. You took in the scales that stuck around his face, feeling breathless from how beautiful he truly was. 

“Thank you.” He whispered against your lips. 

You softly moaned when his cock fell against your lips, hot and heavy between his legs. You moved our hips in a circle, rubbing your clit along the ridges of Jimin’s cock. He groaned against your lips, pulling away to look down at where you were using him to pleasure yourself. 

With his hands on your hips, he allowed you to use him as you please. You began to whine at how he didn’t seem to help you, which made him laugh. The pout on your lips made him lean over to kiss it away. 

“I got you, Beautiful. Don’t worry.” He grinned, teeth sharp. “I’ll give you what you want.”

With his words, he took a hold of his cock and lined himself up at your entrance. But he still kept teasing you. He only allowed himself to push the tip in, smiling evilly as you began to wither from him not moving forward. 

“Jimin.” You whined, circling your hips to make him go deeper. 

“Sorry.” He giggled, leaning over you as he pushed deeper. “It’s so fun to watch you whine.”

You would have retorted something back, but he started to thrust his hips back and forth effortlessly stopping you from saying anything. The only thing that seemed to slip out from your mouth were whines and moans. It started to dry your throat out. 

Jimin’s mouth hung open as his own grunts slipped past his lips. He had his eyes squeezed shut, basking in the way you seemed to grip him. One of his arms held him up while the other was gripping your hips. 

“You gonna cum?” He whispered to you as he leaned down. 

“Come on, beautiful. I waited for you to come.” His breath hit the shell of your ear, causing goosebumps to raise on your skin. “I want to feel you fall apart on my cock.”

You cried out as your orgasm started to form. Jimin shut his eyes tightly, groaning from you squeezing around him. Just as he felt your pussy throb around him, he quickly pulled out and let go of his release on your stomach. You withered on the bench, moaning from your orgasm that was coming down. 

Once Jimin had calmed down from his own high, he began to message your legs. Your breathing was returning to normal, which made him smile. “You okay, lovely?” He called out.

“I’m fine.” You giggled, looking at him. 

“Let’s go take a shower.” He told you, grabbing your hand. 

“Is there anyone left?” You couldn’t sit up just yet, which made Jimin pick you up. 

He carried you bridal style to the locker room, not caring to pick up the clothes you had left in the pool.

“No. We are alone.” He told you. 

When he walked into the men’s locker room, you were in fact alone which made your beating heart calm down. He set you down on a bench as he prepared the shower for the both of you. You watched as he moved around to get everything, appreciating his butt. 

He sent you a playful glare at the thought, which made you giggle. Once everything was ready, you both washed away the activities of the day. Both the normal ones and the dirty. 

Series Masterlist

UPDATE. Next chapter update will be November 13 , 6:00 PM (US Central Time)

[vaquelin]

“You still don’t get it?”

Kaveh leaned back on the table next to Alhaitham. He peeked at the paper with a list of math problems that the Scribe had been puzzling over for a solid twenty minutes. In some of the answers the Architect noticed minor and major mistakes and most questions weren’t answered yet. Alhaitham rested his head on his arm, visibly frustrated. Kaveh hadn’t seen him that angry since they had an argument regarding the schedule of washing dishes, which, surprisingly, had been a serious matter to Alhaitham. The Scribe could have been excellent orator and writer but mathematics was truly his underbelly.

It had been already two weeks since Kaveh started tutoring his roommate in the art of calculation. The main indicator for this whole idea was the situation that happened one Tuesday when the Architect was in a hurry for meeting with a client. He needed to present some changes in the new projects and accidentally took some of Alhaitham’s documents from the table, thinking those were just blank papers. Those however turned out to be crucial data in some tax-evasion case. Kaveh wouldn’t be a Kshahrewar graduate if he didn’t notice more than a few mistakes in the calculation. First he didn’t say anything to Alhaitham for a couple days but eventually he felt bad for hiding that. Three days ago he faced his roommate and offered to correct his errors, just like every friend would do. But of course the Scribe was too proud to accept the helping hand. Kaveh wanted to laugh at himself for thinking that for once Alhaitham would be simply thankful for a friendly favour.

The Architect didn’t know exactly how he ended up in this position, checking mistakes in Alhaitham’s math papers. Surprisingly, he was not even complaining. Being academically superior over one of the smartest persons in the Akademiya if not the whole Teyvat, was giving Kaveh a bit of a thrill. That made him remember the time of their studying when Alhaitham used to be his protege and had to treat him with respect. Those memories were truly pleasant. Unfortunately, things had changed since then. Now they both were adults and if any of them was to be described as ‘superior’ that could be only Alhaitham. He had money, status and a broad knowledge with wide range of skills. The one thing he was lacking was the understanding in the field of mathematics. It was the first and probably last area in which Kaveh was better. No wonder he wanted to take the most out of this situation.

That is why besides teaching Alhaitham maths he was also inventing new ways of motivating him to study. Forcing the Scribe to take praises or punishing him by making him do chores, that was the kind of role play Kaveh was into. He was trying to be viewed as a strict teacher that evokes respect and admiration in his students— student, in that case. He wanted to appear to his roommate more intimidating than as it was when they were kids. Maybe now the younger man would notice that Kaveh can be prime at something too. The Architect finally had a chance to prove his domination and he didn’t want to miss it.

“It turns out that I may not be as clever as you, senior.”

Since their lessons began, Alhaitham had been showering him with compliments. He at least seemed to enjoy their little game as much as Kaveh did. Well, after all, it was Alhaitham who brought up calling him senior and insisted on keeping their ‘working’ relations more in a student-teacher way. First the Architect thought that it was for maximising learning experiences, but he quickly found out that it was just for their own fun. He found it kind of amusing that his roommate’s secret fantasies involved him being bad at maths. Although Kaveh imagined that for a person who was a brilliant prodigy since first years in Akademiya, that could have tasted like a forbidden fruit. It was making the Architect even more eager to play along. He wanted to explore this side of Alhaitham as much as possible until they come back to their usual bickering and quarrelling over nothing.

“Oh, well, in that case…” the ‘Teacher’ placed his spread fingers on the paper sheet and pulled it away from Alhaitham, leaning even more on the table. “I think I need to change my teaching methods.”

the rest can be read on AO3

*contains very slightly nsfw*

[hypnoticsphere]

zuko healer au dump

In one of my alternate au’s, Zuko learns fire healing at a young age rather than later in life. In my head, Zuko would often hide in the palace library (evading Azula, missing his bending lessons because he hates the instructors his father assigns. He knows he’ll be punished, he always was, but he was just so tired, he was never going to be able to catch up to Azula no matter how hard he tried)

The first time he does it, it was an accident. He hadn’t meant to go to the library, but Azula was chasing him and demanding he come play with Mai and Ty Lee. Zuko was not having it because girls are gross, so he bolted into the first room he knew was out of Azula’s sight.

He didn’t like the way his mom would smile warmly at him and gently push him towards them with a promise of sitting by the turtleducks later, just the two of them. He never could quite disobey her, though not out of fear like with father.

So, when a small, exasperated, soon-to-be fire prince throws himself into the library, the little old woman who runs it is more amused than anything. Even when Zuko flys face first into a cart full of scrolls.

Zuko would get up immediately, shutting the massive doors and glare at the woman, who he knew worked there since Uncle Iroh and father were children (and didn’t that make him queasy.)

He looks at the knocked over cart, scrolls carelessly unrolled on the carpet, and scowls. “Why would you put that in the middle of an entrance? You’re lucky I didn’t get hurt.” Zuko would say, pointedly ignoring the throbbing bruise forming on his forehead.

The woman would scoff, “Typically when people come into my library, they knock first. Shouldn’t the grandson of Fire Lord Azulon have some manners, hm?”

Zuko sputters, an embarrassed flush on his cheeks and ears, “Your library? What are you—“ He’s abruptly cut off when he sees the way the woman’s eyebrow raise challengingly, staring down at him.

“Pick up those scrolls you knocked down, I was just about to put those away before a rude little boy stormed in,” She grins, and shows off her cane, “you wouldn’t make me bend down right? My back is just so stiff these days.”

Zuko would huff, ready to protest until he remembered what his mom told him: a fire lords duty is to help and protect his people. Zuko wanted nothing more than to be the very best fire lord. So, he scowled again, muttering, “Miserable old woman,” before sinking to his knees and begrudgingly rolling up the scrolls and stacking them neatly on the cart.

As he goes to grab the last one, the title catches his eye “The Lost Art of Fire Healing.” Written in small letters with the authors name singed out. Zuko furrows his eyebrows together, since when can firebenders heal? He’d only ever heard of waterbenders being able to do such a thing through stories his mother would tell him.

“What’s taking you so long, kid? Not gonna live forever, you know.” The librarian walks back over, tapping Zuko on the knee with her cane. He looks up, glaring at her once more. “I am not a kid.”

She can’t help but laugh, “Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

Zuko goes to argue again but stops. He glances down at the scroll delicately held between his hands and back up at the librarian.

“Miss… uh..” Zuko blanks a bit, embarrassed that he doesn’t know her name but shakes his head, “…Could firebenders really heal?”

She blinks in surprise, clearly not expecting Zuko’s question. She looks a little hesitant, “Just call me Haya, kid.” and before Zuko can complain, Haya nods. “Yes, they could.”

“I don’t understand, why have I never met a firebenders who can heal?” Zuko was in awe of the scroll in front of him, carefully reading over the text and tracing his finger over the examples etched at the bottom.

Haya saw the way Zuko’s golden eyes sparked in interest, looking up at her, eagerly waiting for an answer. Haya let herself smile at the way the soon-to-be prince’s face softened, making him look his age.

“They went extinct, Zuko.” Haya explained, “No one has been able to replicate their abilities in over one hundred years. Fire benders are not meant to heal.”

Zuko’s nose scrunched up, “That’s dumb.” He decides and stands up, taking the scroll with him. “Are there anymore of these?” he asks, watching as a Haya just stares at him a little dazed. “I’m afraid not, kid.”

Zuko just nods and stomps over to a small seating area to read the scroll over and over again until he can hardly keep his eyes open. He was going to be the best Firelord in the entire world.

By the time Haya checks on him, there are multiple medical scrolls surrounding a sleeping Zuko in the middle. This becomes a common occurrence. Haya grows used to Zuko coming into her library, taking his scrolls and reading through them for the thousandth time. Haya will eye the small trap door behind her desk, hidden beneath a rug. She’ll retrieve waterbending scrolls, not meant to see the light of Agni, and tuck them into places where Zuko will surely find them.

She watches as he gets older, how he starts working with the palace healer to learn how different medicine works, she knows he practices his control outside of his lessons, hidden in his room where no one can set off his temper. He’s so determined. Even when his mom disappears.

Haya see’s him become the crowned prince, and then, as if he was never there in the first place, Zuko is gone. At thirteen years old, Prince Zuko disappears from the palace, leaving the library and Haya’s heart silent. She learns from other palace staff of what occurred and Haya feels sick. She can only send a silent prayer to Agni that he watches over Zuko

Uncle Iroh too prays to Agni as he watches his nephew crumble apart, lost in his own destruction, only able to hope that Zuko can rebuild himself up again.

Fire is that of life, it can destroy, cause anguish if unable to be controlled, and Zuko had lost control.

[writerblue275]

Mask of the Black Rose! Ezreal One-Shot

Inspiration: I’m fucking feral at this splash art oh my fucking god. I love formal attire on people. (Oh my god those are thigh high boots on him.) Also damn, Jarro Darkfeather confirmed? Lmaooo. (I cannot think of a title for this my brain is mush I’m so sorry.)

Champion: Ezreal (tying this into my FWB!Ezreal fic general universe because I can. But like it can be read on its own.)

Genre: One-shot

Type: Mostly fluff. A teeny bit of angst to start things off but it gets fluffier. And a little suggestive at the end.

Gender: Gender Neutral reader.

TW: SPOILERS for ARCANE S2 plot points (you have been warned!!!!). Slight angst (in form of worry for the well-being of a partner). Slightly suggestive at the end. Swearing.

“Ezreal, you what??” Your voice peaked with shock and you gaped at your now sheepish-looking boyfriend.

“Shhhh! Baby! Baby, I promise I was fine. I’m here now, right? Nothing to worry about!” He gestured to himself with his hands to emphasize his point.

You breath left you in a incredulous laugh. “Ezreal Lymere, what do you mean ‘nothing to worry about?’ You were dealing with the fucking Black Rose of Noxus?? You went to a Black Rose Masquerade?! They know about you? They know you’re Jarro Lightfeather?” You couldn’t help as a touch of panic entered your voice.

Ezreal realized he needed to shift things. He gave you a small pout. “Hey…come on…you know me…Are my talents not worth the recognition?”

You hummed and pouted back, but Ezreal could see you relax a little. “You know that’s not what I meant, baby. You do deserve recognition. But the Black Rose…” You stepped closer to him and hugged him tightly. “I know you can take care of yourself. As you said, you’re here now. But Ez, the Black Rose is so dangerous. You heard how easily they were able to infiltrate Piltovan society during Ambessa Medarda’s attempted takeover. And they weren’t even on her side. What do they want with you?”

Ez wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead softly, reassuring you he truly was there. “They didn’t say anything specific. So I guess it really was just an introduction to each other. I don’t mean to worry you, Angel, I promise that’s not my goal. They just made their interest in me clear throughout my time in Noxus, and it didn’t seem like the smartest move to ignore them when I got the invite to the Silken Danse. I do know they’re dangerous. That’s why I didn’t want to blow them off.”

You sighed and nodded, resting your head on his shoulder. “I suppose that makes sense. But the Silken Danse,” you murmured. “What an interesting name for a party. Did you at least have fun?” You looked up at him curiously.

Ez grinned down at you. “We thought the Piltovan society parties were stuffy…oh man you havn’t seen anything like a Noxian masquerade.”

“So is that a no?” You giggled.

“Well I for sure would have enjoyed it more if you were there. You make any event a million more times fun and enjoyable.” His grin morphed into a playful smirk.

You gently pushed his chest and laughed. “You’re such a charmer, oh Prodigal explorer. Now answer my question.”

“It was…interesting, I’ll give it that. Thank fuck for the cotillion lessons we had as kids. The dance floor in Noxus is just as much of a battlefield as a gladiator arena. Knowing how to navigate around society types at least allowed for some interesting people watching.” His voice grew thoughtful as he mused.

“Anyone I’d know? Wait that might be a silly question considering it was a masquerade.”

Ezreal chuckled. “Actually there was a familiar face. You know of Renata Glasc, yes?”

You stared at him with wide eyes. “Miss Glasc was there? Oh that’s interesting…and a little alarming but…I suppose it’s fine.”

He nodded. “Those were my thoughts as well.”

“Any interesting dance partners?” You can’t help as a little tiny twinge of jealousy slipped into your tone.

He immediately shook his head and pecked your lips softly. “Nope. None of them were you.” His voice and expression were sincere.

Your cheeks blushed the slightest pink as you grinned. “Good answer, Lymere.” You said, making his smirk return to his face.

“Thank fuck I wore reinforced shoes though, otherwise my feet would have been in a lot of pain. Turns out Noxians are very hit-or-miss when it comes to dancing abilities.” He let out on a chuckle.

“Oh really? Are you sure it was them and not you?” You gently teased, even though you knew from personal experience that Ez was a surprisingly divine dancer.

You continued. “Speaking of your shoes, what else did you wear? Will you describe it for me?” You loved when Ezreal wore more formal attire, and he definitely knew this.

One of his eyebrows arched. “Now how did I know you’d ask that? I can actually do you better than just telling you. I brought the entire outfit home with me, mask included. Would you like to see it?”

You can’t help but let out a happy little gasp. “Wait really? Of course I would!”

You helped Ezreal unpack the clothes, admiring them. “Oh wow…I’ve seen you in formal wear, but never something this…intricate! The vest especially is beautiful.” You picked up the gold mask and held it up to his face. “Oh! It seems like this wouldn’t work with your hair in front, Ez. Did you push your bangs back?”

He nodded and pecked your lips quickly. “I did. Give me a second in the bathroom while I change, and I can also show you how that worked. You’ll have to tell me what you think.”

You waited on his bed as he went into the bathroom to change. After what felt like a half hour, (but was really only 10 minutes) he walked out of the bathroom. “So? What do you think?”

You could only blink at him with wide eyes and pink cheeks, rendered speechless as you take in the site of your usually handsome boyfriend looking downright dashing in this new outfit.

It was tailored to perfection on him. While Ezreal wasn’t buff, he was certainly in shape, and this outfit showed that off. The coloring on the outfit also fit his coloring very well. The gold mask covering the top half of his face was striking. And his hair! His normally slightly messy hair was brushed up and neatly slicked back away from his forehead. You felt your heart flutter and race as you studied him, and you took a deep breath to try and steady yourself.

Your reaction brought a smirk to his lips as he slowly walked closer to you. “Well well…normally I have to work a lot harder to render you speechless.” His smirk widened as his words flustered you further and you let out a soft squeak.

Ezreal stopped directly in front of you and gave a practiced bow. “Now, may I please have this dance?”

Despite your brain currently short-circuiting, you managed to whisper, “Y-yes…fuck yes,” in response, taking his hand and allowing him to pull you to your feet.

Once you were on your feet, you seemed to snap back to reality. Almost without thinking, you gripped the collar of his jacket and eagerly kissed him, the gold of his mask surprisingly warm against your face as it absorbed his body heat.

Ezreal chuckled softly once you pulled back for air, beginning to sway with you. “So your reaction tells me I should wear this again. Is that correct?”

You allowed him to lead you, grinning widely and smoothing out his collar. You ran your hands down his chest to feel the luxurious material of the vest beneath your fingertips. “I certainly have no qualms if you break this outfit, or any elements of this outfit, out the next time we’re required to get a little fancy. I should commission an outfit to match.”

Ezreal pecked the tip of your nose softly. “Two steps ahead of you. It’s already paid for, you just need to go get measured and tell the tailors what you want.”

You laughed. “I should have known. I’m sure you knew exactly what my reaction to this outfit would be, hrm?”

Ez smirked and kissed your neck softly, causing you to gently shiver in his arms. “I had an idea. But now I have an even better idea.”

Your voice became breathier as he continued to nibble along your jaw. “Oh? And what might that be?”

Ezreal’s voice was like silk as he whispered in your ear. “Now I want to see your reaction as I take it off~…”

AHHHH. I haven’t felt so inspired to write like this in a while lmao. I wrote this same day (apologies for any typos). Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!! 💙

[lavendercharm]

Linger, Chapter 2: Evil Woman

Summary: From the moment you meet her, you can't stand Melissa Schemmenti.

Warnings: Strong Language

----

For as irate as she’d made you, you knew you owed credit where credit was due: Melissa was a phenomenal teacher. 

You’d watched her teach math after settling into your desk, masking her disdain toward you effortlessly as she started her lesson. Her passion and love for her work was undeniable. Even more, her kids seemed to adore her. Everyone has those teachers who stay with them as they grow up, and you had no doubt Melissa would be that teacher for quite a few of her kids. Sure, they were silly, rambunctious, and easily distracted, as are most eight and nine year olds. But there was a strong undercurrent of respect for their teacher. The fact that she managed all of this while teaching two grades was immensely impressive. 

You didn’t care if it was petty: the fact that she was just that good made you all the more irritated. 

You watched her with contempt and tried to ignore the budding admiration that was almost imperceptible beneath it all. ‘She’s had plenty of years to practice,’ you think to yourself grumpily, but despite your best efforts, you couldn’t put any real malice behind the words. You didn’t really care about how old she was. You were simply stewing in your feelings, the knowledge that she was apparently touchy about her age the only ammunition you had at the moment. Seeing as you couldn’t find much of anything to criticize when it came to her teaching abilities, you were grasping at straws. 

After her last biting comment, you managed to make it through the rest of the morning mostly unscathed. A few sharp glances had been thrown in your direction as you made your way around the room assisting the kids who asked for help, but you’d resolved to ignore them. You weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of acknowledging her dirty looks.

The morning flew by in a flurry of math, reading, and science. You’d started to learn a bit about the kids in your temporary class. There was Jameela, a third grader who’s favorite color was yellow and who had a new kitten at home named Butterscotch; Kaden, a third grader who loved Minecraft and hated jelly beans; Antonia, a second grader who’d corrected you that she went by ‘Toni’ and who’d beamed when you told her she hadn’t made a single mistake on her math sheet; and Lawrence, a third grader who was terribly shy, yet wonderfully intuitive. You’d given him a giant grin as you helped him sound out a word he didn’t know. 

You could feel your sour mood gradually beginning to lift as you’d made your way through the room. Helping students reminded you why you were here. After the events of this morning, the only thing you really wanted to do was keep your head down, do your work, and make it through the end of the day without having another… disagreement with Melissa Schemmenti.

Turns out you wouldn’t make it to lunch. 

A few minutes before 12:30, Melissa gruffly mutters to you in passing that she has lunch duty today. Glancing at the schedule she’d petulantly tossed on your desk earlier, you saw her class had Art and Recess after lunch. As you open your mouth to ask if Melissa wants you to take the kids, she abruptly cuts you off, holding up a hand to silence you. Narrowing her eyes, she bitingly snaps, “I got it. I wanna make sure they get there on time."

The anger that had started to simmer down boils over, becoming white-hot, the suffocating feeling welling up inside of your chest. You’d hoped to move on from this morning, but it was becoming quickly apparent that Melissa Schemmenti knew how to hold a grudge. You clench your jaw, aiming for a low blow you knew would land. "Don't break a hip on the way there," you quietly sneer. You weren't proud of it, but you were pissed and giving into the urge to lash out.

There was an intense flash of animosity in her eyes. You know she heard you, and you're sure you'd be dead on the spot if it weren't for the kids in the room with you. The look in her eyes could peel the skin off of you. "What was that?" she practically growls, her tone low to avoid drawing attention to you both. 

You didn't think she’d go so far as to physically fight you in front of her students, but you noticed her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides, and suddenly you weren't so sure. You'd been in exactly one fight in your life, and you weren't all that convinced that punching a boy in the nose for making fun of you when you were eight even counted. A darker part of you wanted to see how far you could push the woman, but the last thing you needed was to lose your job by continuing to provoke a full-time faculty member.  

Instead of playing into the desire to take things further, you use the only protection you can think of: drawing the attention of the students. Raising your voice slightly above your normal speaking volume, you retort, "I said 'Suit yourself, Miss Schemmenti!’ What do you think I said?" Being unable to resist one final jab, you force a genial tone and add, "Maybe you should get your hearing checked!" 

A couple of students giggle, and you see a muscle in Melissa’s jaw jump out as she clenches her teeth together. She’s practically bursting at the seams to pounce on you and rip your head off. Her nostrils flair with the effort of holding herself together. You find yourself suddenly struck once more by how beautiful she is. There’s a dusting of color high on her cheeks and her eyes are alight with intensity. Her full lips are fighting the urge to pull apart and bare her teeth in a snarl. She was gorgeous. 

You couldn’t fucking stand it. 

She manages to bite out a very forced, “Of course. How silly of me.” She pries herself away from you and stiffly asks the class to stop what they’re doing to line up for lunch. She doesn’t look at you again, but an aura of hostility still hangs in the air around her. You get the impression you’re only safe for the time being.

A few minutes later, you’re alone in the classroom. You feel the weight of the confrontation starting to dissipate and you collapse back into your seat. Dropping your head into your hands, you berate yourself for your childish and unprofessional behavior. You’d never been so quick to anger as you were with Melissa Schemmenti. Replaying the events of the morning, you try to figure out why you both ended up at each other's throats so quickly. You start to think perhaps you’d been too sensitive about Melissa’s japes, but you stop yourself. You had been late, but it was an accident. She’d never met you before and it had felt totally uncalled for. Couldn’t she be bothered to give you the benefit of the doubt?

Her comments about the way you looked just added insult to injury. You realize in her mind she may have just been making a joke, but it had made you feel belittled, as if she didn’t respect your position as her equal. Just because you had less experience than her didn’t mean you should be treated like you were below her. You scowled to yourself, thinking about how she’d reacted when you fired back asking her how old she was. She could dish it, but apparently couldn’t take it.

This day had felt impossibly long, and it wasn’t even 1 PM yet. 

Glancing around the room, you absorb the state it was in. Trying to wrangle nearly thirty kids into a semblance of an orderly line to get to lunch on time meant school supplies were scattered haphazardly across desks and the floor. You didn’t have your lunch today, and though you considered leaving to buy something down the street, you really shouldn’t spend the money.

After a moment’s thought, you stand from your desk and begin tidying up the room. You collect colored pencils, paper scraps, and glue sticks, reuniting them with their caps in the process. If you weren’t going to eat lunch, you might as well keep yourself busy to make time pass a bit faster. And maybe coming back to a cleaner room would improve Melissa’s mood a bit, so you could both leave at the end of the day without having drawn blood. 

You toss the paper scraps into the recycling bin near the door and investigate the various drawers and cabinets to find the proper homes for everything you’d gathered. It’s not long before you discover the colored pencil bin in a cabinet, and frown when you notice the disorganization inside. A teacher as experienced as Melissa didn’t strike you as someone who couldn’t stay on top of her stuff - at least under normal circumstances. With two grades crammed into one room though, it made sense things would get away from her. Did her current aide even do anything?

You start removing things, finding items in the wrong bins as well as many unusable and ruined materials. Huffing to yourself, you manage to empty one container and designate it “The Graveyard”. Soon you’ve amassed a sizable pile of broken or unusable supplies. Deciding to organize the crayons and pencils by color group while you’re here, you’re suddenly interrupted by a quick knock on the doorframe and a voice speaking before you can even turn around.

“Hey Melissa, can I take a peek at your lesson for- oh?” 

You find yourself in the presence of a very small black woman with wide eyes and short curly hair. Her outfit is colorful - ‘Oh lord, the pattern on her skirt. Was her skirt literally made from a quilt?’  The surprise on her face is quickly replaced by the friendliest smile you’d seen today, which was really no competition. Regardless, it fills you with warmth. You silently ask the universe to please let you make one new friend today.

It seems you’ve earned a break. “Sorry, I thought Melissa would be in here, since she’s not in the lounge! She must have lunch duty. I wanted to look at her lesson plans for Social Studies to make sure my class isn’t falling behind. Or getting too far ahead. Probably that second one, my class loves social studies. I’m Miss Teagues- er, Janine!” You don’t even care about her info dump. You’re so relieved to have a normal, friendly introduction that you’d let her talk about almost anything. Janine was the first adult today who hadn’t either lied to your face, or seemed ready and more-than-willing to break it. 

You return the woman’s smile, greeting her and giving her your name. “I’m subbing for the aide while she’s out sick, so it looks like I’ll be around for the next few days,” you tell her. Speaking it out loud, you feel a bit demoralized. ‘If I even live that long.’ 

Janine beams at you. “Well, welcome to Abbott! It’s the best, I love it here. I bet you will too!” You expect her to leave, but an awkward silence follows in which Janine simply looks at you. After what feels like just a little too long, she pipes up.“I love reorganizing! And believe me, I totally get it when you’re in ‘the flow’,” she emphasizes with very cheesy air quotes, “but aren’t you going to eat lunch?”

“Oh, actually I’m okay-” you begin to reassure Janine, but the gurgling of your stomach rudely interrupts you and blows your cover.

You stand in another awkward silence for a moment, before Janine throws you a finger gun and cracks, “Sounds like someone’s hungry. Why don’t you stop for now and come join us in the teacher’s lounge? You can meet Jacob and Gregory!” You’re touched by the enthusiastic offer.

“That sounds really lovely Janine… but I woke up late this morning and left my lunch at home. At this point, I don’t really have time to run out. I’ll be okay, I promise,” you reassure the shorter woman. But you can tell by the look in her eyes she won’t accept your answer.

“At least let me bring you some of my lunch! You need to eat something today!” Before you can protest, Janine is out the door and down the hall. Her insistence on looking after you makes you slightly uncomfortable, seeing as you’d only just met three minutes ago, but you allow yourself to accept her kindness. It was the first overt act of compassion you’d received today, and you had a feeling that once Janine Teagues made up her mind about something, she did not give up easily.

When she returns, she’s holding a paper plate with the most incredible looking lasagna you’ve ever seen. It’s steaming, and as the scent reaches you, your mouth waters. She hands it to you with a grin and says, “Go ahead and dig in! This is the best lasagna ever.”

You take the plate and thank Janine profusely. You feel like you could cry from the kindness she’s shown you in light of how awful the day’s been. You pick up the plastic fork, and take a bite. Immediately your taste buds are flooded with flavor, the melted cheese and perfectly spiced tomato sauce actually bringing tears to your eyes. You didn’t realize until just now how hungry you really are, and you don’t even fully swallow your first bite before taking a second. Janine’s watching you intently, a smile plastered on her face as she witnesses the spiritual journey her lasagna is taking you on. 

After you swallow your third bite, you look at Janine and declare, “This… this might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted. You’re an incredible cook Janine.”

Immediately Janine looks sheepish, her smile unwavering as her eyes dart away from you. “Oh, thank you! But I didn’t make it. I had a bit of a rough week last week. I was in the lounge this morning, doing my prep, you know? And all of a sudden, a tupperware full of lasagna’s sitting in front of me. She didn’t say anything, but I know it was Melissa’s way of taking care of me.”

You come to a screeching halt mid-chew. The name unpleasantly rings in your ears like tinnitus after a loud concert. Through a mouthful of food, you utter, “Melissa?”

Janine’s eyebrows come together in confusion. As if it’s the most obvious fact in the world, she replies, “Yeah, Melissa. She’s the incredible cook.” 

Your appetite evaporates. The lasagna may as well have turned to ash in your mouth. You have to force it down, not wanting to spit it out into the trash in front of Janine. Despite the heavenly taste, this new knowledge makes it feel like your body’s trying to reject the food. You look down at the remaining lasagna on your plate and your stomach churns. After a final gulp, you turn away from Janine and grimace, abandoning the remainder of her lunch on your desk. You muster a weak, “Wow, that’s… wow!” 

‘Is there anything this damn woman can’t do!?” you think, your mood reaching its depths of the day. You take a moment to compose yourself before turning back around to Janine and shooting her a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you Janine. I should finish up what I started before the class gets back!” Janine assures you she’s happy to have helped, and after dallying a moment longer, she departs the room.

Your hands fly to your face, running down it in exasperation. You just couldn’t escape Melissa Schemmenti. Still, a niggling thought sticks in the back of your mind. It appears the woman was capable of being civil, and even showing acts of kindness. Although indirectly, it was because of her that you'd been able to eat today. You're sure she'd be furious about that.

You resolve yourself to try and patch things up with her. Taking stock of the progress you've made in organizing and decluttering her room, you think you might have a good start to doing just that.

[waterfire1848]

Fire Family Freaky Friday AU

Zuko <--> Ozai

Azula <--> Ursa

Hello, @jn3m0 !!!! (Side note but @stardust948 and I wrote a bit on this exact idea and they made two amazing pieces of art for this so you should go look at those 😁).

1. Most of canon still happens, the only difference is that Ursa remains but she does still kill Azulon and Iroh is still away on his spirit mission. As time goes on, Ursa starts to notice how bad their family has gotten. She can’t help but remember the good days when they would go to Ember Island and be an actual happy family but it seems like there’s nothing that can be done anymore. Ozai is still craving more power, even though he’s Fire Lord, Azula (10) and Zuko (12) are still competing, Zuko is chasing after Ozai’s approval which it seems like he’ll never get and her and Azula’s relationship is strained to say the best. One night, Ursa tells Ozai that she wishes their family could be closer. When Ozai refuses to hear her, she decides to sleep in another room to avoid a fight. That night, a random trickster spirit happened to be listening and decided to have some fun with an ill worded wish.

2. Cue the panic the next morning. Zuko is the first to wake up because he’s now the strongest firebender and screams so loud (because I think that’s most people’s responses when they wake up in the wrong body) that he wakes Azula, who’s staying next door, up as well. (Azula: ZUZU! Shut up! Zuko, running into the other room because he thinks Azula is there but sees Ursa: Mom? Did you just call me Zuzu? Azula: Did you hit your head, dum-dum? I’m not mom. What-Father! I-I slept in! Give me a few moments and I’ll- Zuko: Azula? Azula: It won’t happen again. I promise. Zuko: A-Azula? Azula:….Yes? Zuko: Look in the mirror. Azula: What? Father, what are you-…AHHHHHH!!!) It takes them a few minutes to get everything straight but in that time they also realize that if they’re here then their parents must be in their bodies. Of course more freaking out ensues but, finally, the family calms down enough to actually talk. (Ozai: Your wish! You did this! Ursa: Not this! I didn’t mean for this to happen! Azula: Why are you complaining? I’m the one stuck in this powerless body. Ursa: Young lady- Azula: I think you’re the young lady now. Ursa: Azula! I am still your mother! You will not speak to me this way! Azula: How can you be my mother when you're two feet shorter than me now. Ursa: Ozai! Talk to your daughter! Zuko: This isn’t going to end well.)

3. To avoid detection, the family decides to act as if nothing is wrong. Ozai and Ursa attend their children’s training and tutor sessions, Azula gets started with Ursa’s daily tasks as Fire Lady and Zuko attends Ozai’s meeting as Fire Lord. (Can you believe that things go horribly very very fast?) Not only do Ozai and Ursa hate being the younger ones now, but they're both struggling with firebending lessons as well. Although for two different reasons. (Ozai: Ursa! Woah! Ursa: Sorry! I can’t control her fire. I don’t know how Azula does it. Ozai: Yeah, no kidding. You set half the garden on fire. Ursa: At least I’m making fire. You’ve hardly been able to do anything! Ozai: I know….maybe Zuko wasn’t as lazy as I believed. Ursa: I’ve seen our son train and lazy is hardly what I would describe him as. *Tries to simply point at Ozai and sends a blast of fire out of her finger* Ozai: And Azula has more discipline than you could ever know. Ursa:….Maybe we both need this).

4. Meanwhile, Zuko is struggling with keeping up with his father’s meetings and Azula is struggling with her mother’s list of duties. Zuko is flat out understanding nothing because he’s been so focused on his firebending that he hasn’t taken the time to really study much else. He has to find Azula after every meeting so she can explain to him what the generals said. (Zuko: Azula, councilman Raiko said we should increase funds to the-Woah! Azula, drowning in papers: Don’t say a word! Zuko: Are you okay? Azula: Everything needs the Fire Lady’s sign of approval. I have to sign off hundreds of documents, plan for our next dinner with hundreds of different councilmen and- Zuko: Do you need help? Azula: Were you not just coming in here to ask for my help, Zuzu? Zuko: Don’t call me that while you’re in our mother’s body. Azula: Don’t remind me I’m in her body. I thought mom just sat around all day. Zuko: She is Fire Lady. Why would you think that? Azula, shrugging: I don’t know. What about you? Being Fire Lord as fun as you imagined? Zuko: I don’t know how father does hit someone with a chair every day. Azula: Zuzu- Zuko: 😑 Azula: What are we supposed to do about the dinner in a week? Zuko:........ Azula: Zuko? Zuko: Panic.)

5. A week goes by with the family stuck in each others bodies. As time goes on, they do start to learn more and more about each other. It slow, but there is some progress. Azula catches Ursa struggling with bending and helps her out, Ursa notices that Azula doesn't know how to do her hair and helps her (even if she does have to stand on a stool to reach her head), Ozai gives Zuko some scrolls to help him with firebending and some points for how to deal with the councilmen and Zuko shows Ozai a couple tricks he learned from Iroh. It's certainly not easy but there are some really nice moments. As stated above, there is a dinner with the Royal Family and all the members of the noble class. The family get together before hand to talk about what they have to do to survive the night. As long as they stay silent and give simple answers they should be fine (they hope). Zuko goes in first with Azula behind him next to Ozai and Ursa. It's expected that Zuko, being in the Fire Lord's body, walks around and talks more than Ursa or Azula does. Most of the night goes on without any issues, Azula knows how to talk to members of nobility so she does a decent job in Ursa's body and, with Ozai next to him, Zuko does a good job being the Fire Lord. Then a councilman, who is very drunk, comes up to Zuko. (Councilman: Fire Lord! Ozai: Not again. Zuko: Again? Ozai: He always gets drunk at these events. Councilman: So good to see you! And Prince Zuko! Finally left mom's side, huh? Ozai: Yes, well, it was time. Councilman: I'll say. I think your old man here was worried that you'd never actually step into your prince- Ozai: I think that's good! We don't need to hear anymore. Zuko, coldly: Yeah. We don't. *Walks off.*) Zuko disappears for the rest of the night, leaving Azula to end the night and the family to go looking for him. They find him in one of the hidden rooms in the palace. The family get to have a little heart to heart where they finally talk about the past week but also how everything has changed in the last few years. It's not a full healing session but it's the most they've talked about these issues. The four fall asleep in the hidden room and wake up back to normal the next day.

[slasherstories123]

Jason, Micheal, Bubba, penny & art reacting to their child luring/helping In a victim, like maybe the slashers were struggling to get a victim and their child comes and helps

Example: reader pretending to be hurt so the victim gets close enough for the slashers to kill them

Or something like that

Ty and have a great day 💝

Slashers with a child reader who helped them lure a victim

Paring: Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Bubba Sawyer, Pennwyise, and Art the clown

Tagslist: @dootys @callmemeelah @fluffy-little-demon @mehidktbh @slash3rl0v3r @the-anxious-youth @beanbagbitch @mrs-heelshire @oneofvincentscandles @alexxavicry @vexeliers-breakroom @naxxsstuff @beel-mcburger @emychan @charliedawn @sleepypersonblog @slasherscrybaby @anim3l0v3r @kawaistrawberry21 @l0sercat @sadskies @bunnysenpai31 @turdmongler

Jason Voorhees

Now say it with me

You’re 👏🏾 Going 👏🏾 In 👏🏾 Time 👏🏾 OUT👏🏾

Quite literally, once he sees you in the act you’re not leaving that corner until you learn your lesson

He doesn’t want you to partake in any of his killings, his fear is hurting you and he wouldn’t forgive himself for it.

Jason can be a chilled out dad but he knows when to put his foot down when it comes to you, he learned his sternness from his mother

Once he killed the victim he thought you were actually injured by his traps until you laughed thinking everything was fine. “See! I’m fine dad!”

He let out a huff, his one blue eye staring dead at you. “Aw shoot.”

You didn’t leave the time out corner for a hot minute while he’s scolding you in sign language. “Dad, can I leave the corner now?”

He looked at you, just by the presence alone was his own way of saying no.

Michael Myers

It depends on how bad the killing is.

If it’s an easy kill, he’s not mad, but if it’s a bad one, he’s making sure you don’t leave the house in his next killing

Michael is an okay dad but he could do better, if you want to join him in killings then who is he to stop you, unless he knows for sure that it’s not safe for you

Michael has limits, and when something teach his limits, he stops… unless it’s killing someone’s, when it comes to you, he’s trying his best to be a good father for you.

He saw you playing dead on the ground, a victim he had trouble with fell for your trick which made it a lot easier. The only thing Michael dosen’t do is kill people in front of you.

He’ll just drag them away while you stand there until he comes back, but say if you nearly got hurt, you’re not coming out the house next time.

He’ll lock you in the house from the outside if he have to, you’re staying in that house!

Bubba Sawyer

Bubbas the fun but overthinking father.

So when he sees you trying to help him he’s immediately gonna be worried, if the victim ran away after the plan failed he’s pushing you back in the house.

Bubba tried to be stern sometimes but it doesn’t work, he doesn’t have the heart to scold you but he knows it’s for the best.

Bubba don’t want you to partake in family killings, he at least want you to be the normal child. Plus, he does all the work so he wouldn’t want you to do anything that involves hurting people

Once he’s done killing, he’d try his best to explain to you why he wants you to stay in the house

He cares for your safety. And you getting hurt will make him cry literally

Heck, he cried the first time you called him dad.

Pennywise

Pennwyise is the dad who will encourage it. Until you get hurt. He’s like Michael, but more energetic.

Somehow, you two work well together. Even though pennywise plays as a child like personality, he’s really smart, so while he’s planning the attack, he’s watching you, making sure no kids try to hurt you in the process.

He taught you many things, but for hunting, he taught you how to play dead or fake an injury.

So if he’s having trouble with a feisty child, you’d play dead until the child takes the bate so pennywise can drag them away.

Just like Michael, pennywise won’t exactly kill children in front of you, his killings can be gruesome due to him biting and ripping their limbs/organs

He’s proud of you for stepping in, but is still smart enough to know that you can’t always do it. You can’t always help him, he’s powerful enough (even though he got jumped by seven kids) so he can take care of himself

But if you’re want to join then he has no problem.

Art the clown

Just like Jason, he’s putting you in time out.

Once he successfully killed the victim (without you looking because he had gruesome killing methods) He’s placing you in the nearest corner, alleyway, store, wherever he’s at, you’re going in the corner.

Art’s the crazy but protective father. Sure he may likes to kill but he makes sure you don’t take any part in it. When the victims dead, he’s wa sing his fiver no at you. Then gently hitting you in the head

He’s mad, but also glad that you’re okay. His victims can be quite a handful but that makes it more fun for him. But he can’t be mad for long, he understands that you want to help.

If you get up and walk around, he’s pointing at the corner with a angry expression. “Aw come on dad I said I was sorry!” He pointed at the corner more aggressively. “Aw man..”

[bird-in-the-space]

Echoes of the Unknown

Your summer camp experience came with a rough start. You already considered ending it all. But then, things go wrong, when you decide to investigate the strange sounds in the mountains and you end up falling into the abyss. You find something you were likely never supposed to find.

Warnings: mentions of rude kids, uncertainty about the future, some teasing, falling, broken feet, bruises, losing your breath, and losing consciousness.

Chapter 2

-----------------------------------------------

It's only been a day and a half but you were already feeling drained and like you wanted to throw yourself off the cliff. You tried to keep up a bright mind and avoid brooding like Emily said, but after an activity that included helping first-year campers in arts and crafts and getting glue and stuff thrown at your face for the fifth time, you wanted to end it all. Modern social media and TikTok have created real monsters. These kids are supposed to be ten or eleven, yet they are cursing worse than sailors and crafting questionable things. 

Luckily, Mr. Robin had mercy on you. He allowed you and the other members of your group to take a break and go on a short hike near the mountains. You somewhat liked it since it allowed you to calm your mind. 

The forest was green with life. You saw squirrels, rabbits, and even a few deer on the hike path. It was calming and eventually, you reached the cliffs that led to the mountains. 

“You seem more calm now,” Emily stated. 

“I am…” you uttered. 

“Who knew, (Name), is not a child person,” Amanda teased. 

“Well, you weren’t the one who got unruly media monsters for you to help” you snarked at her. 

“Children just like me more…” she said, making you roll your eyes at her. 

“So, what kind of plans have you all planned after this?” she asked. “I’m gonna go abroad. I found a pleasant college in Europe,” she said. 

“Lucky you!” one of your group members said. 

“I’m gonna go to Stanford!” 

“I’m gonna take a long family trip with my family,” 

“I think I’m gonna start working,” 

“I’m still looking through my options. I want to be a photographer, so I’m still deciding if I want to go to college or start working on that,” Emily answered. 

“What about you, (Name)?” Amanda asked when you didn’t tell yours. 

You looked at them and saw them all look at you, waiting for your answer. 

“I… I’m still deciding. I don’t know what I want to do,” You answered, looking at the ground. 

“I’m sure you will find what you like eventually,” Emily nudged you with a smile. 

A loud bang echoed through the mountains and you felt the earth shaking beneath you. 

“Wow, did you all hear that?” Emily questioned. 

“That sounded way more close than before,” Amanda said. “How close are those roadmakers here?” she questioned. 

You all looked toward the caves that led inside to the mountains. You felt rather spooked when you looked into that darkness. 

“Are they even roadmakers? That sounded more like an explosion” One of your group asked a good question. 

“Huh? Maybe the mines have been opened again,” Emily said thoughtfully. 

“But let’s get back. Our break is going to be over soon and Mr. Robin needs us to aid the first years with the swimming lessons,” she said and you all agreed, leaving the hike. 

You looked toward the mountains when you heard the sound again. You do not know why but you felt odd by those sounds. 

The day was quick. The night came and you lounged in your camp house with Emily after having dinner. You would have tried to find sleep, but it did not come easy tonight, so you tried to spend time reading one of Emily’s books. You weren’t the biggest bookworm, but Emily knew how to pick good books.

The moment was quiet between you, but since you two were reading and simply enjoying each other’s presence— it was enough for you. 

“You know…. I have been thinking what you could do after this?” Emily broke the silence. 

“What you had in mind?” You looked at her curiously. 

“You are talented in the arts. Why don’t you try art school?” she asked. 

“My mom said I needed a real profession,” you answered. “And I haven’t drawn much for a long time. I think my skills have become severely rusted,” 

“Then—” Emily thought to herself for a moment. “Then how about anything related to crafting or mechanics? You liked to do woodwork with your dad and you were really good at building those scientific things in computer classes,” she suggested. 

“Maybe… but those no longer interest me much,” you said. 

“Well, there has to be something. How about you try something completely new? You are a fast learner when you put your mind into something,” she said.

“Maybe… but what?” you questioned, staring at the ceiling. 

“I’m sure it comes around. I can throw in some suggestions,” she said. 

“Thanks… but I think I will be worrying about getting myself a place to live and learning how to be independent after this. Then I might find a career. I don’t want to throw myself into a career that is big but has no interest in me,” you explained. 

“Don’t think about it too much. We have two whole months to think about it together. And I meant what I said about you coming to live with me,” Emily said. 

You smiled in return. “I know I know… But I want to try to figure something out,”  

“Attagirl,” Emily smiled again. 

You then glanced through the window and noticed something strange. Amanda and some of her friends were outside their camp house, wearing jackets and flashlights. They seemed to be talking to each other before walking toward the woods. 

“Hey, is that Amanda?” you frowned. 

Emily looked over your shoulder and saw the people outside. 

“Yeah. What is she doing?” Emily asked when Amanda and her friends seemed to leave for the hike paths. 

You two decided to step outside. You opened the door and Emily shouted over your shoulder at the leaving group. 

“Hey! Where are you guys going?” Emily asked. Amanda and her friends stopped to look at you. 

“We’re gonna go check if we can see the miners in the mountains through the caves,” Amanda replied. 

“Isn’t that dangerous? Everyone in these camps has told us that those caves are unstable?” you frowned. 

“You are welcome to join us to make sure we will be safe. Come on, we won’t be waiting for you,” she said as she and her friends left for the hike trail. 

“Fucking hell— is she looking for a death wish?” you asked. 

“Well, there’s no point in pondering about it. Let’s go,” Emily grabbed her jacket. 

“You can’t be serious?” you frowned at her. 

“Amanda is difficult to convince, and we will be in trouble if something happens to her and we were the last ones to talk with her,” she said, handing you your jacket. 

“So, let’s go. I’m sure we will be fine,” she stepped out. 

You whined, taking your jacket and following after her. 

You two quickly caught up with Amanda and her friends. The night was chilly despite the summer heat, so you were glad to have taken your jacket. You all then arrived at the mountains and stood before the cave entrance. You nearly shuddered as the darkness in the cave looked even more menacing at night. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea? Do you even know where this cave leads to?” You asked Amanda. 

“Only one way to find out,” She said, stepping forward. 

“I don’t think we all should go inside. What if something happens and we need help?” you questioned. 

“Don’t be a wuss. What bad things could happen?” she crossed her arms. “We just take a quick look and go. Simple as that,”

“(Name)’s right thought. Maybe we should leave someone behind. Just to be sure. Maybe just three of us should go?” Emily backed you up. 

“Fine…” Amanda groaned, then looked toward her friends. 

“Stay here, me, Emi, and (Name) will go. Call for help if something happens,” she said and you three then entered the cave. 

Amanda used her flashlight to show the way forward. You and Emily used the lights on your phone to look around the walls and corners. Shivers ran down your spine. The cave leads to a larger cavern, making it look more intimidating. Large spikes were hanging from the ceiling and over the edge, you could see a dark abyss look back at you. Your mind wondered what was at the bottom, and it came up with spikes and nonexistent monsters that only waited for something to fall into their sharpened mouths. 

You three walked a mile into the cave. The entrance was still in sight but provided little light. You tried to hear anything related to the miners or roadmakers, but there was nothing. However, for a moment, you thought you heard sounds you could only describe as drilling. 

“Ah! A dead end!” Amanda stopped and you saw the cavern floor end to another edge. You looked around but saw nothing that would allow you three to go deeper. You were honestly relieved by this. 

“I was hoping we could go deeper and see if we could find the workers,” 

“Well, there’s nothing we can do. I can’t see anything from here,” Emily looked over the edge. 

“Well, that’s too bad. Can we go now? This place is giving me the creeps,” you asked as you really wanted to go back. 

A loud boom was heard across the cavern, causing the cave around you to shake. You lost your balance but when you saw Emily about to fall over the edge, you grabbed her, throwing her back and falling over the edge instead. 

“(Name)!” Emily shrieked in terror when she saw you fall. 

You screamed as you fell into the abyss below. 

Your fall was quick. For a moment, you managed to land and slide against the cavern wall before falling a harsh mile and landing on your feet. A loud crunch was heard from your feet and you yelled in pain, withering against the cavern floor. Burning tears forced themselves out of your eyes and you started sobbing. Your ears barely heard Emily’s and Amanda’s yells from above as they tried to call out to you. It took you many long minutes to calm down and endure the pain from your foot. 

You grabbed your phone. The screen was cracked from the fall but your phone was luckily not completely broken. You used the light to help you sit and look at your injured foot. It was motionlessly lying against the ground and you could feel the pain in your very bone, so it did not take much for you to guess that your foot was broken. 

“(Name)!” you heard Emily’s voice in the distance. 

You looked up but only saw darkness. You must have fallen quite far if you were not able to see the cave entrance or Emily. 

“(Name)! Please answer me!” you heard her yell. 

“I’m here!” You yelled, even though you were in a lot of pain right now. 

“(Name)! Are you hurt?!” she yelled. 

“Yeah! My foot!” You groaned. “It broke from the fall!” 

“Okay! (Name)! Hold on! We’re gonna go get help!” Amanda yelled. “Stay where you are!” 

You heard them run and yell to their friends outside. It then became quiet and you figured they must have returned to the camp to find help. 

You leaned against the cavern wall, breathing and moaning from the pain. In all your life, you never experienced pain like this. You had experienced sprained ankles and muscles, but never a broken bone. You had always been careful to avoid seriously injuring yourself. 

You checked your phone. Luckily it had a lot of battery, so you did not need to worry about it running out and losing your only source of light. 

Five minutes run by. It was still a bit early to think if Emily and Amanda abandoned you to die even though your mind was entertaining the thought. You trusted Emily to alert Mr. Robin and the other camp chancellors. She was your friend. Even though Amanda was someone you weren’t overly fond of, you knew she would get help too despite the troubles it would bring her and her friends. They were good people deep down. 

Your eyes suddenly noticed an odd blue glow in the darkness. You showed your lights and saw cracks that led somewhere. Your ears then caught the strange sound of drilling again. 

You felt hopeful. If there was drilling, then that meant there were people. If you could find the miners, perhaps they would help you out of the mountain faster. 

With a pained groan, you slowly picked yourself off the ground. Standing up, you tested your foot and felt a sharp pain when you put weight on it. You held it up. There was no use in trying to put any weight on it. Your foot had become numb, making it somewhat tolerable but for the best, you just needed to hop. 

You knew Emily and Amanda told you to stay put, but this could be a good chance to get out than wait in the ominous darkness. 

Carefully, you hopped toward the crack, using your phone’s light. You carefully limbed through the cracks, finding tunnels and more caves. 

The sound of drilling became louder and you saw the blue glow again. The blue glow became brighter from another crack. You hopped over to it and slid through the crack. 

After you pushed yourself through the crack, you were amazed when you saw what seemed to be blue crystals in the shape of cubes. They were bigger than you and stacked nicely against each other and on top of each other. However, they did not look like sapphires as they were way too blue and glowing. 

You took a picture and tried to use the Google search to figure them out. It only gave answers to sapphires and gems that looked nothing like them, making you confused. Was this some kind of new undiscovered crystal? 

However, one important question was, why were they so big? 

The sound of drilling became louder and it nearly made you wince from the loudness. However, you felt hopeful since it meant you were near. 

You saw an opening to another cave where you saw light and hopped between the giant cubes. However, instead of miners or roadmakers, you found something completely different.

After you came to the opening, you hid when you saw what seemed to be giant robots. You stared in shock at the robots. They were maybe fifteen feet tall, or bigger. They had no faces and had this odd symbol in their chests. Some of them were mining for the blue crystals while some of them seemed to be on guard for something. 

You managed to control your shock and tried to avoid getting noticed. Whatever they were, they were not humans. You are not even sure if they were made by humans. 

Your mind came back to the story about the missing miners and the giant metal beings. That rescuer might have not been insane after all. 

You quietly took out your phone. Putting it on silence and turning off the lighting, you then started to record the robots and their mining operation. You need to show this to Emily and the others or they will never believe you. 

You captured thirty seconds of footage. You ended the recording and hid when you noticed one of the guards coming. The ground shook beneath your feet from the robot’s footsteps and you could not help but shudder as the robot looked even more menacing from up close. Your heart was painfully pounding against your chest as you watched them leave. 

You then decided you had seen enough and tried to find your way back to the cave you came from. Emily and the others should have already called for help. Limping painfully toward the crack in the cave. You were nearly there and ready to slide yourself through, but then you saw the guard looking at you.  

“Shit, shit, shit!” you cursed as the guard walked toward you. 

You managed to slip through the crack to the cave behind. However, there was another way and the purple robot followed you. It tried to grab you with its claws but you managed to throw yourself out of the way. However, now you are trapped. 

It pointed its arm blaster toward you. 

“No! No! No! Please!” You begged for your life. 

The cavern suddenly shook. You heard what you could describe as blaster fire from the other part of the cavern and wondered if they were fighting something. A wall in your part of the cave suddenly crumbled and a metalling thing fell out of it. 

You both stared at it as it activated, aiming two lights at you and the robot. You were then hit by some kind of blast. A blue light formed between you and the purple robot. You began to feel faint and lost your ability to breathe as something was happening in your mind. It felt like your mind was detaching itself from your body. You shrieked when you suddenly lost your consciousness and everything became dark. 

[idontknowreallywhy]

A little Teeny Scott wip snippet because the little Scooter popped into my brain as he often does when I’m a bit overwhelmed.

Tis another snapshot of my OC Primary teacher POV (oh oops I have two! No, not THAT one the other one! The one who taught teeny Scott rather than the one who trolls adult Scott)

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

Like many a primary class store cupboard, the one in Felicity Miles’ domain was crammed full of everything under the sun that could plausibly be “useful for craft one day” alongside all the more formal stationery supplies, brightly coloured sports equipment, first aid items, cuddly toys with their own bandages (often deployed to greater effect than the official first aid items).

She also had a small shelf, high up, she kept for the special pieces of work, the ones which demonstrated where a child had suddenly Got Excited - technicolour art, poetry with unashamed overuse of newly discovered adverbs, science projects, Scott Tracy’s poster about Pi. She always smiled to remember how after his initial disappointment about what the little squiggly symbol DIDN’T mean, how Absolutely he had adopted his new “favourite number”. She had a few from each class and when teacher life all got a bit overwhelming she’d take half an hour at the end of the day and reflect on why she did this in the first place. Retaining the space meant her marking piles were rather more crammed together and higgledy piggledy than ideal - her more organised colleagues would certainly raise an eyebrow - but it was worth it.

There was also a space about half a metre wide and about the same high on the very bottom shelf which it was important she kept empty. Again, the independent observer might have queries as to why, when space was at such a premium, this was necessary. She would probably just smile enigmatically and point at the tiny masking tape sign in wobbly 7-year old handwriting that said “The Octopus House” and leave them with more questions than they were ever going to get answers to.

The Octopus House wasn’t a secret but she didn’t advertise its existence. The few kids who knew about it found it because they needed it. The ones who needed to hide away for a moment, but not be too far away from the safety of their peers or the ones who needed to squeeze up small to process the big feelings without their limbs causing trouble.

It had received its name three years ago on that memorable day when she Lost a Student. He was just gone for at least 20 minutes which must have cost her at least a year of her life. Between the three adults in the class that day they’d subtly searched the corridors, the toilets, the lunch hall, the library and what could be seen of the playground but it was like the child had evaporated. Trying not to panic she’d sent the rest of the class out with the experienced TA and the very-green-but-compensating-with-extreme-enthusiasm NQT to do Olympic relay races on the playground (thank you Ancient Greek class project).

She leant on the back of the door for thirty seconds to catch her breath and psych herself up for the inevitable crisis meeting with the head and the moment at which that would turn in to needing to break the news to his Father.

The silence crowded in on her and she felt herself beginning to properly panic.

She didn’t even know exactly when he’d disappeared. He was there at the start of the lesson, seemed happy, seemed engaged. He’d been very excited about the task they had been given to recreate the Parthenon out of craft paper and had taken charge of his small group so naturally… they’d all been given their part of the mission and they were actually DOING it! Very effectively it seemed! She’d made a mental note to add “leadership skills” to the list of positive things she was going to put on his school report (because the previous few she’d read had made her nauseous with anger) and turned to assist a wailing child with no less than three glue sticks embedded in her hair. And that was… half an hour before? Oh hell that was a long time.

She and the other adults had been so busy mediating the minor battles breaking out in other groups that when a little voice piped up “where’s Scotty? He was sposed to make the lintels!” and her blood had suddenly run cold.

If he was hurt or in danger because she took her eye off him…

She blinked back tears and had just composed herself to pick up the phone to the head teacher’s office when she heard a tiny sniff and spun around to identify the source. Nobody was there.

Hardly daring to breathe, she tiptoed through the room checking under desks already checked three times.

Just as she was concluding she’d imagined it, there it was again - the tiniest noise but definitely a sniff and seemingly from the direction of the cupboard he couldn’t be in because the thumb turn bolt was still in the locked position.

Feeling like she was going crazy she unlocked the door and looked inside anyway.

Obviously it was empty. Her wishful thinking was wasting time. They needed to get a proper search party organised.

She turned to leave and heard it for a third time.

And it was that day, in her 5th year of teaching, she discovered just how small a ball a tall child could make themselves into. Seriously, the octopus had nothing on this kid.

The space was much smaller then, barely 30cm wide and only there at all because she’d taken out the long, thin box of baton-shaped sticks that had been wedged tightly in between stacks of who knew what. All she could see was a tangle of uniformed limbs and a mass of sweaty chestnut hair.

He obviously knew she was there and was holding his breath, clearly hoping not to be seen. Expecting to be in trouble.

Felicity picked up her phone and sent a quick “crisis averted” message to her TA and then, after ensuring the door was wedged wide open, she slowly lowered herself to the floor. Pulling her knees up to her chin to mirror his posture she rested her back on some boxes a few inches to the left of where he’d tucked himself away.

And she waited.

[gg-pedro]

can you hear the music (ch. 5) - joel miller x reader

masterlist

summary: everyone in jackson is trying to distract themselves from something. you teach ellie piano, and you find yourself trying to help more than one miller settle into their new world.

chapter 5: new life, old wounds. a honeymoon has to come to an end eventually.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!era, joel x reader, AFAB!reader, platonic!ellie x reader, protective!joel, implied age gap, hurt/comfort, sickfic?, joel needs taking care of, non-gratuitous descriptions of a wound, mentions of death, swearing, references to gun violence, fluff at the end, angst, and more angst.

words: 4.4k (eek)

a/n: edited this one to death. go listen to adrianne lenker.

-

Weeks passed. Rainstorms rolled into Jackson. 

Dark clouds eclipsed the sky, releasing sheets of rain that melted away most of the snow and rendered the ground a muddy brown. The storm system lasted days, save for an hour or two of sunshine between downpours.

Joel had asked you to move in with him. You refused. Then he begged you, saying that he wanted to be around to help you get back on your feet, but still, you declined the offer.

You always figured your honeymoon winter would have to come to a bitter end at some point. Watching Joel execute a man in cold blood probably wasn’t helping to close the divide that had been growing into a chasm and stretching you thin. 

Your wound was halfway healed now, too. It still left a scar that made you nauseous when you had to look at it in the mirror. 

You’d been allowed a week off from your usual duties around the commune. You asked to be removed from the position you had in the clinic, and Maria personally saw to that. You helped out at the school instead, with the kids you had grown so familiar with. They were the only thing bearable about your day.

You stopped offering piano lessons. That irked Joel the most. He’d gone even paler when you told him that than when he watched a bullet narrowly miss ripping a hole through your center. 

Maybe this is what you got for complaining about the quiet sanctity of your life in Jackson. 

You still played. You had long since memorized most of the scores you had collected over the years, so you’d taken to composing your own. It was all harsh, rolling sonatas that poured out of you whenever you sat before the keys. You’d pause to scratch the notes down on paper, skipping over a title because you knew you’d only be able to come up with one thing.

Joel. Joel Miller. Joel #3. Joel and I. Joel… why didn’t you ever ask his middle name?

You’d left him in the dark almost entirely about how you were feeling, save for that conversation you’d had in the clinic. By consequence, he was treating you as if you’d suddenly become fragile. As if you couldn’t handle getting hurt or witnessing death. You wished that you could say any of that was what was bothering you. 

Still, he came. He showed up for you. He was sweet. He cared. He barely even flinched when the little things would set you off. It made it all the more difficult to try and push back from him. 

On a cool evening, one where the air was almost warm but the breeze was bitter, the two of you sat on his back porch. 

He was strumming on his guitar, trying to remember how to play Led Zeppelin's Going to California.

He paused to tune the high E string and looked over at you. “Tommy said he’s goin’ on a supply run next week. Might try and hit up that old college I told you about. Want me to look for some more sheet music to bring back? Beginner stuff, or stuff for you?”

You blew on your hot mug of tea, watching the steam swirl in the air. “No. You’d have to sift through some old performing arts building. No use in that.”

“You sure? I know you said you wanted–”

“–I promise, Joel, it’s fine. Don’t make more work for yourself.”

“Alright, baby,” he said quietly, plucking away at the strings again.

“But for Ellie,” you interjected. “She mentioned wanting some more movie scores. Might be worth finding that for her.”

He played a little softer as he spoke. “It’s no good if she doesn’t know how to play it.”

“She can read music,” you countered. “She’s welcome to use my piano anytime.”

He stopped playing completely this time, groaning a little as he stretched to prop the guitar up against the house. You watched his expression mold into concern as you made eye contact.

“You’re shakin’, honey. Let's go inside. Or I can walk you home.”

The liquid in your cup mirrored a choppy ocean from the tremors in your hands. “I’m okay. Just cold out here.”

Joel got up and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Okay. Then I’ll get you a blanket. Gonna catch your death out here.”

Your knuckles were turning white with your grip on the mug and you flinched away from his touch. “Stop it, Joel.”

He paused. “Stop what?”

“Treating me like I’m another child,” you said. “Did you hear me when I said that I was fine?”

“That ain’t fair. I’m just tryin’ to look after you,” he responded.

You started laughing. “Really? It really feels like you’re trying to make up for something.”

It started to drizzle again. You watched as the rainwater began to dilute your tea. 

“Yeah? Make up for what, exactly?” He shot back. “Protecting someone I care about?”

You stood to meet him and the rain picked up. “Protect me from what? A man alone in the woods with no weapons?”

“Just ‘cause he dropped his gun doesn’t mean he had no weapons, doesn’t mean he was alone–”

“You beat his fucking face in, don’t act like you did it out of anything but emotion you couldn’t control.” The two of you were nearing drenched, but neither of you seemed to care. “Just admit that it was a bad decision. And that it was cruel, Joel. So fucking cruel.”

Joel just stared at you. “I’m walkin’ away from this, baby. You’re mad, I know. You don’t have to see things the way I see ‘em.”

You followed him to the back door. “I’m not done, Joel. Give me one good reason as to why you did it. A rational, true reason.”

“No,” he said as he opened the door.

“Then fuck you. You were wrong, it was cruel, and there is blood on my hands. How does that make you feel? To know that I blame myself for what you did?”

He slammed the door shut before walking inside, his face washed with anger. “Don’t you come into my fuckin’ house yellin’– not with Ellie upstairs,” he seethed. “ Blamin’ me for shit. For makin’ decisions that you couldn’t even imagine.”

You brushed wet hair out of your eyes. “Oh, but I could imagine it, Joel. I’ve been alive through all of this too. I still came out human on the other side. Not everyone is living in the world that you are. Not everyone acts like a fucking animal everytime they get the chance.”

“So that's how you see me, hm? A fuckin’ animal. You along with everyone else in this goddamn place. Just some old man who likes havin’ to kill people?” He looked away from you and shook his head. “I’ve got my reasons. Bein’ here isn’t gonna make me soft. Won’t make me forget,” he inched closer to you, “the ways that I lost people. I can promise you that.”

Joel had had a part of his humanity brutally gutted from him when his daughter died in his arms. Even still, he found it again in places he hadn’t expected. In Ellie, especially. In you. 

“And listen to this closely– real fuckin’ close,” he began again, “I don’t give a shit if you hate me. Move on, never speak to me again. As long as you’re alive, and I know that I did what I could to keep you that way, I’ll sleep fuckin’ easy at night. You understand that?”

He inhaled and went on. “Maybe that man made a stupid goddamn mistake tryin’ to hunt. Maybe I did, too. I wish I could say I was sorry for that. It’s a cruel world out here.”

“Sleep easy at night? Is that really the truth?” You crossed your arms over your chest and watched his expression shift.

“Wouldn’t… wouldn’t make it any harder.”

You knew that was a lie. 

You could see it now. Joel in another universe. A few less fine lines on his face, a few less grays threaded into his dark hair. No bad memories that would pull him from sleep. The right pocket of his jeans wouldn’t be ever so slightly stretched from storing a handgun there. Wouldn’t look at himself in the mirror like he was searching for the person he used to be. Wouldn’t look at you like you were an impending flatline on a heart monitor.

But this was now, and he would always be so stubbornly him, and you wished your feelings were important enough to him that he could see things the way you do. 

He dropped his hands to his sides and sighed. “Look, I’m just tryin’ to make things easier on you. Clearly you took this real hard, and I never should’ve brought you out there, and–”

“Enough, Joel. Don’t act like that was the mistake, or that you ‘ruined’ me, or some stupid shit like that. One of us has to feel remorse for what you did to that man and if you won’t, then I will,” you countered. “And sure, It’s been difficult on me. I’ll give you that. It hurts. There, does that make you feel good? Give you a purpose? You still want to put me back together after what you did?”

The look on his face told you that you had cut deep. You immediately wanted to back down, but you were tired and it hurt and he still felt like he wasn’t listening.

“I ain’t gonna yell at you, baby, if that's what you want. Just… just go. Go on, go home. I’ll still be here if you need me.”

You were angry because you were hurt. He read right through you, too. Knew you didn’t mean all of that. You were trying desperately to stay hurt and mad at something, anything, because once that faded, all you’d be left with was sadness and guilt.

You turned your back on him anyway, soaking wet and furious, and made your way home. You couldn’t help but cry. God, you hoped you hadn’t just ruined everything.

He’s still there if I need him, you kept repeating to yourself. He’s there if I need him.

-

Joel wasn’t sleeping. He couldn’t.

He used to get at least a few hours every night. Took him a while to get there after settling into life in Jackson. Even when you were with him, lying close to his chest, he’d still wake up with the sun, hours before you did. 

At least you quelled the restless anxiety that accompanied the morning exhaustion. You’d slip your hand under his shirt, rubbing circles into his side and his chest, and beckon him back to sleep. He almost never did, but he loved it anyway.

And now? He was getting almost nothing.

Sometimes, he could swear that he heard your pleas. Those strangled sobs echoing through the dense forest. Joel. Joel. Joel, stop it, fucking don’t, please–

A single gunshot, and the sound of you sobbing. 

There, does that make you feel good? Give you a purpose? You still want to put me back together after what you did?

He laid awake, the rain pelting the roof and the rolling thunder in the distance making his heart rate spike and setting his body into fight mode. It was a feeling he’d grown accustomed to. He’d check that his pistol was on his dresser, then he’d check on Ellie, and finally, he’d look out his window, hoping to see that light on in your bedroom. Maybe your backlit silhouette. Anything. 

You didn’t need him trying to protect you all the time. Worrying about you. Losing sleep over you, for fuck’s sake. If anything, he thought, coming into your life had just made things worse for you. If anything, he needed you a hell of a lot more than you needed him. 

Powering through sleep deprivation wasn’t an uphill battle. It was all downhill. After the third day in a row with almost no rest, he was flagging. The world around him felt blurred, his senses and awareness all dull. He barely got through the work day with Tommy. He felt, in a word, awful. It was strange. He felt even worse than he had after all those nights on foot with Ellie where he would insist on giving up his sleep for hers.

He wanted you. With more sleep, maybe he could push those thoughts away if he tried, but now, all he wanted was you.

Fittingly, Ellie was the only one that noticed. Well, Tommy must’ve noticed, but he didn’t mention it. 

After dinner, he could hardly keep himself awake to listen to her talk about her day. Sitting on the couch, with his head lolling to the left and subsequently making his hearing muffled on both sides, he dozed off.

“–el? Joel? The fuck, man, I was just getting to the good part of the story!”

A hand shaking his shoulder jolted him awake and he was slow to reorient himself with the room. Breathe. He was in the living room. The fire was lit. It was still raining. Ellie was there. You were… fuck, where were you–? Oh. Right.

“Are you good?” Ellie asked.

He nodded quickly, swallowing around a raw throat. “Yeah– m’fine,” he said. “Keep goin’, I’m listenin’ to ya.”

“Uh, no, you weren’t. You fell asleep. And you’ve only been sitting for like, five minutes.”

Joel sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Okay. Wanna tell me somethin’ I don’t know?”

“You look like shit.” She told him pointedly.

“Mmh. Shouldn’t have even asked.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Come on, dude. Are you sick?”

“No.”

“You sure? You look sick. And super fucking tired.”

“Yeah, m’tired. Storm’s been keepin’ me up,” he said, which was only half of a lie.

Ellie didn’t believe him. “Huh. Fine. Sleep away then, old man.” 

Joel’s eyes were closed, but by the way Ellie’s voice got quieter as she spoke, he knew she was walking away. He was a little too tired and a little too deaf to hear the front door open and close again a few minutes later.

-

“He looks dead.” A pause. “Is he dead?”

“Jesus. No, Ellie, he’s not dead.”

A palm smoothing over his forehead, then the back of that same cool hand against his cheek. He didn’t want to open his eyes. Too tired, and the touch felt too nice.

“Oh, Joel,” you exhaled. “He’s burning up. Probably killing his back, too.”

Warily, he opened an eye to see you crouching in front of him, Ellie close to your side. He would’ve thought he was dreaming, but in his dreams, his entire body didn’t typically ache. 

“I knew something was wrong with you,” Ellie proclaimed, looking proud of herself.

“Why’re you…?” Joel rasped. 

You cut him off. “Hey, Joel, you with me? Is there any possible chance that you got bit?” You asked. Just covering all bases.

“No,” he replied. “And fuck you.”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Ellie, go heat water up on the stove.” You interjected. “See if there are any tea bags left.”

“Ugh, fine.”

Joel’s eyes slipped shut again just as you sat down beside him. He was sitting upright, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“C’mon, Joel. You should be in bed,” you said softly. Your fingertips brushed his forehead again, confirming the fever you had felt earlier. “Figures… Ellie says you haven’t been sleeping.”

He shook his head and tried to dodge your touch. “M’fine, babydoll,” he said like it was a reflex.

“Yeah, you’re fine, I know. You’re always just fine,” you replied. “Wake up a little, though? For me?”

He couldn’t argue with that. Slowly, he rubbed at his eyes and sat up more fully. “...Ellie got you? Shouldn’t of fuckin’ done that…”

“It was fine. It’s barely six, It’s still light out. I’m glad she did.”

He opened his eyes again, looking panicked. “Six? Fuck, I gotta–”

“Six PM, Joel,” you clarified. “You haven’t missed a thing. In fact, it’s a great time to catch up on some sleep.”

After you grabbed both of his hands and threatened to go get Tommy, he finally relented, letting you help him up from the impression he’d made on the couch. He all but collapsed into bed, hardly putting up a fight when you tugged off his shoes and jeans to get him into something more comfortable.

On second thought, maybe this was more than exhaustion. He didn’t have much recollection of the fever that came with that infected stab wound, not until he dragged himself up from the floor with what dredges of consciousness he had left to find Ellie. This was sort of akin to that hot-and-cold aching feeling. Had a fever when he killed those two men, too. 

He groaned audibly at the thought. 

“You okay?” Your warm voice rang through the room.

This wasn’t that, though. He was safe. Probably picked something up from being out in the rain with you. Is that how that worked? More likely from the insomnia, which surely must’ve shot his immune system.

“Mhm, yeah… you’re stayin’?” He mumbled.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.” You kissed his temple and pushed his hair off of his forehead. 

“Why?”

You thought for a moment. Honestly, you were wondering that yourself. But when Ellie showed up at your door in the rain, her face awash with concern, you didn’t even think twice about coming.

“Ellie was worried about you. I had to come,” you said. “And… the things I said the other week, they– they weren't completely fair to you. I’ll try to make it up to you, if you’ll still let me.”

“Nothin’ to make up for,” he told you, words slurring together.

“I think there is, but–” you sighed. “Get some rest. You need it.”

He fell asleep easily after that. 

Joel’s nightmares were so vivid that he woke up feeling like someone had died in his arms all over again. He didn’t know who. When he sat up and looked around the room he saw you asleep, clinging to his arm, and a glass of water on the nightstand next to a mug of tea that went untouched.

He was freezing, shivering under multiple layers. His skin and the fabric clinging to it hurt. Everything hurt. He sucked in a breath, too overwhelmed to do anything about any of it. The only thing he could manage was to call your name out into the dark.

Your bleary eyes met his in an instant and you had to untangle yourself from him to sit up. “Hold on, I’m awake,” you said, clicking on the lamp.

Joel was pale and his eyes were glassy. 

“Did something happen? No, just feeling like shit? You’re still so warm… poor thing.”

He shook his head and tried to keep his teeth from chattering. When you opened your arms, he melted right into you. 

“Okay, baby. You’re okay, I still got you. Bet your fever’s just spiking.”

After a long while of him in your arms, he spoke up. “M’sorry for what I did,” he whispered. “Thought I was gonna lose you.”

You felt the ache in the wound on your arm that pulled from holding him. 

What could you say? That you would just put it past you? That all was forgiven? Was there anything at all that could be said with him in this state, sweating out a fever and shaking in your arms?

After mulling over the entire situation while you had been keeping your distance, you weren’t

sure if he would ever be sorry for pulling the trigger. He was sorry that it hurt you. That the golden image of him in your mind was tainted by what he’d done. That just made you angrier.

For Joel, part of that was true. He wasn’t sorry for pulling the trigger. He’d do it 100 times over, even if there was only a fraction of a chance that it made the difference between you living and you dying. But he was sorry for letting all of his past experiences haunt the decisions he made in the present, and he was sorry that he never did try hard enough to be better for you. 

He couldn’t magically change, though. Nobody could.

The fork in the road was clear. To hold onto hope that you could just love Joel deeply enough and some softer, unscarred version of himself would start to appear through the cracks, or to let him go. Let him be who he is, far away from you. 

Or maybe, maybe, maybe– keep loving him for who he is now, perhaps even if a little hardened and cruel, in this life with him. Love him deeply enough, love him long enough, and one day who he isn’t won’t matter. 

“You won’t lose me. You won’t. We can talk about it more when you’re feeling better.”

And if he ever finds those old pieces of himself, or if you manage to bring them out– you’ll love those, too. And if not?

He brought his face up from your shoulder and took your face into his hands. “I love you. I love y’too much. Don’t lose yourself in all this. Not for me, not for nothin’. Okay? Promise me.”

There wasn’t an ‘if-not.’ The harshness of this life hadn’t taken away his capacity to care about you. To want to give you the world. To love and be loved. Some things, some far away and buried things, the most important things, they had never left him. 

And Joel did. He did love you. It was a universal truth. It felt more certain than the sun rising each morning, than the salt in the sea, than the earth spinning on its axis.

“I promise,” you whispered. “I love you, too.”

-

You made sure Joel got better. Sleep was the best medicine. He was so bone-tired and out of it that you hardly had the chance to say anything else to each other for the next day or so.

You woke on Saturday morning to an empty bed. Joel’s room was tidier, empty mugs and dishes having disappeared from the nightstand along with the clothes that were scattered on the floor. 

You could hear Joel and Ellie bickering about something downstairs, and the oaky smell of coffee was permeating the entire house. It made you smile. You wanted to stay in bed and bask in it for a few minutes– that lazy morning feeling, and the growing warmth inside your chest that told you that life could be good again. In the heaviness there was still warmth, light in the darkness, sunshine after the storm.

It was still drizzly out, but everything was remarkably greener. Even the pear trees that were scattered between houses in the neighborhood were blooming. You found yourself looking forward to summer.

After soaking in as much time in bed as you could, you got yourself up and went to check on the commotion in the kitchen. Joel was busy making breakfast– eggs and a few strips of bacon that were sizzling loudly. He had a towel thrown over his shoulder and was gesturing rather aggressively at Ellie with a spatula.

“Come on, how’d you know that one?” Ellie asked incredulously, throwing her hands into the air from where she was sitting at the kitchen table. “It was good, too. Admit it.”

“It was the worst out of all of ‘em,” he retorted.

“Wait, wait, listen to this one– how did Benjamin Franklin feel when he first discovered electricity?”

Joel glared at her over his shoulder. “Shocked?”

She laughed. You were starting to think it was less about the joke itself and much more about Joel’s obvious hatred of them. “You’re killing my flow here, dude!”

He could pretend all he wanted. That smile and the way he shook his head afterwards told you he loved it. Maybe not the joke, but hearing Ellie laugh.

He came over to where you were leaning against the doorway, handing you a cup of coffee and pecking your forehead. You took both things gratefully.

“I see you’re feeling better,” you said, catching him by the arm before he could walk away. “Breakfast, too?”

He nodded, pulling you into him again to kiss you for a little longer. “Mhm. As a thank you for lookin’ after me.”

You smiled against his lips. “I’ll take it, then.”

The three of you sat down to eat together before Ellie, who finished three times faster than either of you, asked if she could meet Tommy at the stables. It was more like a declaration, one that gave Joel no room or time to say yes or no. 

You helped him wash and put away dishes, talking and laughing with him about completely mundane things. A part of you hoped that he wouldn’t want to bring up the last few conversations you’d had. This all felt so fragile and you would’ve done anything to keep it intact.

“I got you something,” he said after you’d sat down again. “Shut your eyes.”

Doing as you were told, you brought both hands up to cover your eyes. You could hear him leave the kitchen and bring something in from the dining room.

“‘Kay, open ‘em.”

He’d set a small vase of flowers on the kitchen table. The arrangement was made up of pink and white tulips, interspersed with golden poppies. You’d seen them when you went out with Joel– when you got hurt.

“I went out early this morning. You should see the fields, they’re covered in flowers,” he said. “I went out there to bury that man. Said a prayer for him and all that bullshit. He was alone, you were right. Someone would’ve taken him by now if he wasn’t.” He sat down in the chair next to you, reaching out for your hand. “Thought it was the least I could do… the right thing to do.”

You squeezed his hand as you stared at the flowers. “Thank you, Joel,” you said quietly. “You’re a good person.”

And somewhere, along the northern edges of a forest, there was a pile of freshly disturbed dirt and a cracked rock in place of a headstone. The rain would still come and wash over Joel’s work, but you hoped that nature would be kind to it. And in a few weeks when the sunlight gave birth to new growth, flowers would spread over the gravesite, too. 

“I’m tryin’ to do my best, baby. For you.”

This time, you really did believe in him.

-