#and even then five pebbled kills you for being annoying

[gay-artificer]

i always thought artificer was irredeemable - even with everything from this world being able to come back from the dead it still attempted genocide of the scavengers. and sure, i'm not saying that others can't like arti (in fact i do like them and their story) or write a redemption arc, they can have their fun that way. but i don't want to be guilted into thinking otherwise

I don't like to terms like 'irredeemable' on animals, even more sentient/intelligent (and fake) ones. Artificer is absolutely expressing unchecked hostility, but ultimately its still in the form of a creature reacting to its own trauma with aggression and, as a more intelligent being, with spite. Slugcats (and scavengers) are at their core not meant to be stand-ins for humans, and I think that there is a tendency for fandom (and humans with other 'smart animals') to correlate intelligence/sentience with at least somewhat of an obligation to conform to human morals. As a biologist who's a fan of wasps, I know how much people tend to project a need for human reasoning and morals onto creatures who literally could not comprehend it nor would want to. Hell, on an individual basis, even humans disagree on where things like that do and don't apply.

Do I think Artificer is good? Hell no, I said myself that I think they're something so violently consumed by their own grief and anger that on a literally spiritual level they have damaged themselves beyond reasonable repair. I think you need to be pretty uniquely fucked up and far gone to achieve that in such a level that it's literally scarred your own karma. I guess I think they are irredeemable in that sense, but mostly on a more meta level referring to their actual ability to recover vs. a moral one. The narrative of the story certainly condemns their actions pretty heavily in what is, effectively, a form of divine punishment- a complete and total inability to find peace in the form of proper ascension no matter what they do now. I feel that even if they threw away their grievances and just lived with Five Pebbles forever they would be unhappy and restless, just stuck with a permanent stain they wish they could ignore because it was an itch they scratched entirely through violence. But in that same sense I don't think the scavengers are uniquely, humanly evil for killing a slugpup for stealing just because they are also an intelligent creature with the capacity for culture and understanding. I believe the scavengers fully understood they were attacking the equivalent of a slugcat child, and they did not care. That did not matter to them, because they are just naturally very selfish unless they have reason to believe youre on their side already, and even then they aren't above violence due to personal grievance. They killed Artificer's pup because it violated a rule it couldn't have known was a rule, and its unfair that it died for it, but I don't think it makes the scavengers evil for it in the same way I don't fault a lion for attacking the weak or young of a herd, or a bee for stinging. I mean hell, even the scavengers themselves do it- They attack anything they perceive as threats, and will send squads to eliminate ones they think are particularly significant, even going out of their way to track them down. Sure, this is the a result of the creature already harming them- but Artificer was harmed. They were originally fleeing in their dreams. You could say it's different because Scavengers only target the one, but they already have a natural hostility to some slugcats and slugcats are generally independent (although its worth noting that slugpups pay for their parents' crimes by sharing reputation)- scavengers are not. They're all animals, they do what they perceive to be in their best interests, even if they perceive their best interest to be going out of their way to fight. The Ancients are the closest we have to a society with established morals in Rain World, and their favorite pastime was advanced genetic modification and disrupting ecosystems. It seems a little silly (to me) to be hung up on if any of these things are 'good' in that sense.

[mediumgayitalian]

“Death Breath! Hey! Wait up!”

Nico bolts. He makes it about ten feet away from his cabin door before Will and his stupid long legs catch up with him, throwing an arm over his shoulder and then immediately tripping over his own foot and sending them both sprawling.

“I hate you,” Nico groans, curling up on the grass.

It’s too early for any of this. He was just trying to get back at Cecil for covering everything he owned in aluminum foil last week — and then he was going to go right the hell back to bed.

He knew he should have fucking shadow travelled.

“Aw, c’mon. You love me.”

Nico pretends to gag. The only thing he gets is Will’s crossed arms and raised eyebrow, so he doubles down and really starts to retch. Whatever. It’s eight thirty in the morning. He fell asleep at five. Rational thinking is a distant, distant memory.

“Whenever you’re done.”

“I will be sick at the thought for the next eight weeks,” Nico informs him. For dramatic effect, he looks up at Will’s face — which he cant even see, since the sun’s in his eyes — and shudders.

“You know, you have a genuine, beautiful talent for the dramatic arts, the likes of which I have never seen. Are you sure you’re not secretly an Apollo kid?”

I better not be, ‘cause then all the staring I do at your calves would be real weird, he thinks to himself, then considers whether he can convince Kayla to give him a lobotomy. He thinks she might like the opportunity.

“Piss off,” he says instead of that, artfully schooling his face into the aristocratic mask he’s perfected from his father, squaring his shoulders and looking at Will like he’s a pebble lodged in the flesh of his heel.

Will rolls his eyes. “Get up, Sharpay Evans. You’re gonna stain your shirt worse than you already have.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “My shirt is perfectly fine, thank you very much. I order them in black for a reason.”

He notices a giant grass stain on the side when he stands. He ignores it. Will does not.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re the Goth King.”

“Ghost King.”

“Right, right. That helps your case.”

Nico shoves him, fighting back a grin. “Whatever, Solace. What are you bothering me for?”

“Oh, yeah!”

Nico is a deeply cheesy person. Down to the core of him, past all the sarcasm and prickliness and trauma, or whatever, he’s made of fucking mozzarella, because what business does he have comparing Will’s eyes to the morning winter sky? Huh? That’s embarrassing. It isn’t even original. If Nico caught anyone saying shit like that out loud in real life, he’s collapse into the shadows from embarrassment. He needs electroshock therapy.

“I was thinking —”

“Rare,” Nico quips, just to watch Will’s eyebrow twitch. It does. Nico smiles.

“I was thinking,” he repeats, mocking glare in Nico’s direction, “that you and me go to the city this afternoon.”

“You chased me across camp for that?”

“Oh, please, Zombie Face. I chased you maybe twenty yards.”

“I think all that time sniffing rubbing alcohol has deteriorated your brain.”

“I think I’m going to shove you in the lake.”

“Feel free to try. You will not wake up the next morning.”

“Nah.” Will shoots him a smug smile. Nico trips over air. “I can be as annoying as I want and you still won’t kill me. I have impunity.”

Nico rolls his eyes, refusing to dignify that with an answer. The less he acknowledges his own shame, the more likely it will go away on its own. Probably.

“Anyways. Guess what Cecil told me today.”

“His last will and testament?” Nico guesses, suddenly remembering his reason for being up this early.

“No, no, not that.” Will pauses. “Well, I mean, he did. I passed it on to Chiron. He has requested that when you maul him, you avoid his face, because he wants to be a sexy corpse and he can’t do that if you destroy his prettiest features.”

“Noted. Please inform him I will come for him within a window of the next fifteen hours.”

Theres a very particular face Will makes when he finds something genuinely funny. A smile a little more crooked than his regular one, teeth working at his bottom lip to hold it back, left dimple appearing in his cheek. It makes Nico want to do stupid things like press his thumb into said divot. He instead shoves his hands deeply into his pockets.

“I’ll let him know.” He clears his throat. “Anyways. You know what day it is today?”

Nico squints. “Tues…day? No, Wednesday.” He glances at Will. It’s been maybe….three days since their weekly sleepover? No, fuck, four. He thinks. “Thursday. Final answer.”

“Monday,” Will corrects, “and, gods, you need to sleep more. And a calendar. But no, that’s not my point.”

“Feel free to get to it.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Will finally explains. He tries for exasperated, but it doesn’t work — he’s clearly excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet and waving his hands. “And The Five Seasons is doing half off for couples, so you and I need to go!”

He waves his hands, as if tying off some grand reveal. His (blue blue blue blue) eyes are squeezed nearly shut by the force of his beam, which lessons slightly with every second Nico does not respond.

“William,” he says finally. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “William.”

Will pouts. “What?”

“Explain how this is relevant to me, William.”

“Aw, c’mon, Nico! Don’t be difficult!”

“William,” stresses Nico again. “We are not a couple. Did you hit your head again?”

“Well, duh, Neeks, it’s about the scam!” He flaps his hand in a way Nico assumes is meant to convey something. “We’re gonna — eat! Cheap! By pretending to be a couple!” Now both hands are flopping, paired with wide, imploring eyes. “Obviously!”

“Obviously,” Nico repeats, slowly. He instructs one half of his brain to keep its focus on not melting into a puddle of blushing embarrassed goo, and the other to exercise restraint and not strangle the boy in front of him. A headache begins to press behind his eyes. “Will, what the shit.”

“You of all people!” Will throws his hands up. “You love scamming people! You hate corporate holidays! You frequently throw pebbles at people who look, and I quote, too obnoxiously happy! You’re the best hater I know! You should be on board!”

He makes a compelling point. Not that Nico is going to make that easy for him.

“You seem very invested in this,” Nico points out. He manages to keep his voice tastefully judgmental, which he’s very proud of.

“Of course I am! I want cheap Five Seasons food, godsdammit!” He pauses, switching tactics. “Nico,” he says softly. He puts a gently hand on Nico’s forearm, making him freeze. He is suddenly very, very close, and wow, did his hair always frame his face in gentle waves? Has that always been a thing? “I really, really want to scam a restaurant with you.” He smiles, small and crooked and gods, Will doesn’t look dangerous very often, but holy Hades when he does — “Will you make my Valentines, and scam a restaurant with me?”

His fingers begin to trace little circles in the inside of Nico’s wrist.

“Yes,” he squeaks, voice cracking.

“Yes!” Will cheers, pulling his fist. “Yes, hell yes, Nico! We are going to scam the shit out of this restaurant! Half off for couples? How about half off for heathens! Free money, baby! Fuck yeah!”

He turns back towards Nico, smile still wide and radiant, blinking eyes pools of sparkling excitement. Nico’s knees go a little weak. “I’ll come get you at 2! Thank you, Neeks!”

He runs off back to his cabin, only tripping twice. Nico watches him go, feeling a little like he’s tripping, too, with all the swooping his stomach is doing.

“Dude,” he mumbles to himself, shaking his head. “Be normal. Christo.”

It takes him ten straight minutes to get back to his cabin, even though he’s standing at the porch.

———

The obsidian handle of the Hades’ cabin door rattles.

“Neeks!” calls a voice behind the door, “you ready to go?”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Nico scrambles over to the mirror and stares at himself. He turns a little to the left. He scowls. “Shit!” Tugging the shirt off, he turns back to his closet, tossing the piece of clothing to join the rest of its brethren on the floor. “Shitfuck. Fuckshit. Shit.”

“Nico!”

“Coming!”

Tapping his foot rapidly, he looks harder, as if that will magically make the right shirt pop into existence, perfectly pressed, on a hanger. “Shit.”

“What could possibly be taking so long? You’ve had two hours!”

“I care about my appearance, Mr Flip Flops and Scrubs!”

“Bleh bleh! Hurry up!”

Nico bites his lip. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t, really. Five Seasons is not actually a fancy restaurant. He and Will just like to joke that it is, because it has tablecloths. They’ve gone there dozens of times before; they stop every time they’re in the city for supply runs or visits to Olympus or to harass their summer-only friends at school. There is literally no reason for Nico to be stressing about what stupid shirt he should wear. Gods know Will is wearing cargo shorts.

“Nico!”

“I’m coming!“

Scowling, he digs through the pile of discarded clothes until he finds the first shirt he’d put on — a dark green button up that was given to him, along with a bunch of other fancy clothes he never wears, by the Aphrodite cabin. He hastily shoves their buttons through their holes, cursing when he mixes them up and has to start over, and sprints over to the mirror to inspect himself.

The shirt looks good. It’s a little tight on the arms, which he suspects was on purpose, and the colour compliments his skin nicely. The buttons are a dark, shiny brown that match his eyes. They pair nice with his simple jeans and black vans, casual enough that he doesn’t look like he’s going to Prom, or anything stupid like that, but dressy enough that it looks like he put effort in. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to make the staticky strands sit right, but gives up pretty quickly. It’s okay if one thing is a little messy, right?

“Finally,” huffs Will as the door swings open. He glances Nico up and down, then grins. “You look great.”

Nico was right. He is indeed wearing cargo shorts, although to his credit they are his one pair without various Head Medic stains. His sweater, too, is a pretty blue, V-necked, long-sleeved, and a completely different style than his shorts. It clashes horribly. His shoes are, for some reason, bright solid pink. Nico suspects Hecate magic. His hair is braided in two French braids, his favourite way to wear it. Nico believes he is also wearing a touch of sparkly eyeshadow.

“You look dorky.”

Will grins wider. “Thank you! I wouldn’t let anyone help me choose something.”

“You should have.”

“I wanted it to be authentic, Nico. Also, got something for you.” From behind his back, he pulls out a handful of daisies, black dirt clinging to their roots, like he plucked them straight from the ground. Nico is inexplicably endeared by the image, and prays the smile on his face is less soft than he knows it is.

“You got me flowers?”

“Well, duh, Avril Lavigne. We gotta sell the scam.”

Nico brings them close to his face and inhales deeply. They smell fresh and earthy and sweet.

“That’s a stupid reason to bring someone flowers.”

“Give them back, then.”

“No. Fuck off. They’re mine.”

Will’s eyes twinkle. “Okay.” He holds out his arm. “Ready to go?”

The jump is close enough that Nico can convince him to shadow travel, and not just because he sadistically looks forward to the shade of green Will’s face will get after. As dangerous as he knows it can be, he misses it, sometimes. There’s something comforting about it, something soothing and familiar. Shadow travelling to the restaurant eases any lingering nerves.

“If you’re gonna throw up, do it somewhere I can’t hear you,” he says as they materialize in an alley.

Will’s cheeks puff out. “I’m gonna do it on your fuckin’ shoes.”

“I will leave your ass here, Solace, I swear to the gods.” Despite his grumbling, he rests a cool hand on the back of Will’s neck until he’s recovered. “Good?”

“Yeah.” He straightens, dusting off his sweater. “Let’s go.”

Nico follows him down the alley and onto the street, elbowing past the crowd of pedestrians until they approach the familiar glass doors. He rolls his eyes fondly every time Will apologizes to someone.

“You need to be meaner.”

Will sticks his tongue out and tries to trip him. Unfortunately, he only manages to throw himself off balance, nearly crashing to the floor of Nico hadn’t caught him.

“Good gods, Solace.”

“That was your fault!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The doors of the restaurant are absolutely plastered in cheesy red hearts and bows and cartoon kisses. And, as promised, a giant sign promising couples a fifty percent discount on their meals.

“My love,” says Will dramatically, holding out a hand, “shall we?”

Nico sighs, resting his hand delicately in Will’s. It sparks with electricity, like it always does. “I suppose.”

“Party pooper.”

“I’m not hearing oh, Nico, thank you so much for doing this incredibly stupid thing with me, you are my dearest friend and I owe you one. Or three, for some reason.”

Will’s mouth twitches. “Oh, Nico, thank you so much for —”

Nico shoves him, laughing. “Shut up.”

They’re seated pretty quickly, server smiling when they take notice of their clasped hands. Will orders chicken tenders, like he does every single time without fail, and water. Nico orders from the adult menu and absolutely does not make any kind of show about it.

“There is nothing babyish about chicken tendies.”

“Oh, of course not.”

“Is this about you having a credit card? That does not make you more adult than me. It makes you a nepo baby.”

“Mhm. Sure thing.”

“Nobody likes a nepo baby, Nico.”

“Look, I think your drink comes with a complimentary sippy cup.”

Teasing and joking with Will is so easy that Nico forgets the core of their mission. The pink garlands hanging from the ceiling fade into the background — he’s too busy crying with laughter when Will nearly chokes to death on a french fry, too busy flicking a forkful of food at his shoulder just to make him shriek, too busy kicking his shin under the table. He catches Nico’s foot between his the fourth time he tries it, keeping it trapped for the rest of the meal. Nico finds he doesn’t mind.

“And your bill,” says their server when they’re done, setting down a slip of paper. “Forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, but do you two qualify for today’s discount?”

Will smirks widely. “We do,” he says, with no small amount of pleasure. He shoots Nico the least subtle wink of all time. Nico rolls his eyes, cheeks going a little pink.

“Great! You guys have a wonderful Valentine’s day.”

“You, too.”

The server hurries away, turning to their other tables. Will’s smile is wide and smug.

“I knew it would work.”

“Duh. Easiest scam in the world, Solace.”

He sticks his tongue out. “And thus the best payout. You’re welcome.”

“Blah, blah. Gimme the bill.”

“Um, no way, di Angelo. I’m paying.”

He opens his wallet before Nico can stop him, mouthing as he counts the bills.

“What? No! I’m paying.”

“Are not.”

“Am too!”

“Are not.” He sets down a couple twenties. Nico snatches them right back up. “You we’re just complaining about my credit card!”

“Exactly. Thus my need to continue to pretend you don’t have one, so we can continue our friendship.”

“Solace, I swear to the gods.”

“di Angelo, I swear to the gods.”

Nico stares him down. Will stares back. He doesn’t even try to hide his lazy grin, his laughing eyes.

“You’re not paying for this by yourself,” Nico says firmly. “You don’t have a job. My father invented being rich.”

“Sure, but I made you come with me.”

“Ugh!” Nico throws his hands up, imagining how satisfying it would be to wrap his hands around that long neck (followed by his teeth and his tongue and his —). “Why are you impossible? I would’ve gone with you no matter what, stupid!”

As soon as he says it he wants to stick his head in wet cement. For a brief second, something like surprise flits across Will’s face, before he schools it back into his teasing smirk.

“Well, obviously, Death Breath. I’m excellent company.”

“You’re literally the most annoying person I know.”

“And yet here you are, hanging out with me, of your own volition.”

“…I’m paying next time.”

Will grins. “Whatever you say.”

They walk around the city for a while before heading back to camp. Will says it’s because he needs the air, Nico knows it’s because he wants him to rest a little longer before trying to shadow travel again. He tries not to let himself get all melty inside.

(Nobody willingly hangs out around the city for the ‘air’. He’s a shit liar. Nico should be offended.)

It’s nearing curfew by the time they melt back out from behind Thalia’s tree, extra shadows of early evening making the trip easier.

“Those fries are going to make a reappearance,” Will grimaces.

“Not if you don’t want me to kick you in the face.”

“You’d never.”

He would indeed never. But he would rather pass away than admit it, so.

“C’mon, dot face. It’s getting late. You have a cabin to run.”

“Oh, Nico,” Will says in a breathy falsetto, “are you walkin’ me to my cabin? How chivalrous!”

“Nevermind.”

“No no no no no I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Nico allows himself to be tugged, weak to Will’s giggles. “Walk me to my cabin. C’mon.”

Sighing, as if he’s so put out, Nico does. Some point in between Thalia’s tree and the amphitheater, Will’s hand slides down from around his wrist to tangled in between his fingers. Coincidentally, his mouth goes dry.

As they approach the Apollo cabin, Will slows to a stop.

“Hey.” He squeezes their fingers together, smile soft in the dying light of dawn. “I had fun today. Thank you for coming with me.”

Nico swallows. One day, those words will be said in a different context, if everything goes well for Nico, and he’s not sure how the hell he’s going to handle it without bursting into flame. “Yeah, well. Anything to scam a restaurant.”

“Right.”

They walk the last few steps to the cabin, rickety porch steps creaking under their feet as they approach the open door. Will doesn’t let go.

“Hey, Nico.”

“…Yeah?”

Quick as a flash, Will leans in and presses the softest of kisses to his mouth. The noise Nico makes is practically punched out of his lungs, spine going rigid in surprise.

“You can pay for our next date, okay?”

He’s gone before Nico can respond, ducking into his cabin with a small smile and closing the door behind him. Nico stands there, like an idiot, for three solid minutes at the very least, distantly aware of the giggles coming through the open window.

His hand comes up, fingers brushing his bottom lip.

“The little fucker set me up.”

Valentine’s day scam. Please. The only scam today was the scam of Will’s sneaky asking.

Nico smiles.

“You’re a mess, Solace!” he shouts, knowing damn well Will is listening.

He’s right. “Goodnight, Nico!”

Shaking his head, Nico runs back to his cabin, entire body tingling and cheeks aching with his grin.

[motimatcha]

"nostromo"

PART 3. Incident.

parts: one | two | three | four | five

dbd Xenomorph (alien) x fem!reader. attention: swearing and swearing; strained relationship; chase.

In the end, only you managed to survive. running for survivors xenomorph managed to find time to stop you from repairing the generators, which is why by the end of the test you were unable to repair the last one and climbed out through the hatch. It would be more accurate to say that the xenomorph himself led you to the exit, chasing you throughout the ship until you escaped. You could say it was a noble act on his part to allow his future mate to leave largely unhurt, and you might agree with that if you didn't know the creature's selfish motive.

If everything continues like this, then soon the survivors will rally against you in tests with the xenomorph in order to present you to him and the Entity first of all.

You shudder when such a thought, the course of events, comes to your head, but you understand that the chances of such an outcome are rapidly growing, while the stranger diligently presents you with gifts in the form of other people's deaths. Perhaps the event with Ripley breaks you, or at least breaks you, which is why in each subsequent match you become colder and colder towards the deaths of others. Death is a concept not applicable to the world of the entity; each departure from the location created by the Creature only means an inevitable meeting with their tormentor, and after that the noise of the fire, the conversations of other people.

Kicking a pebble as you walked away from the fire into the forest to look for offerings, you heard a fragment of a conversation:

“I swear, if I have another test with this...” the man, whose name is David, says with undisguised irritation. His face contorts in disgust, he doesn’t even want to say your name, he was so disgusted, but his gaze - cold and angry - scans your back. “I’d rather climb onto the hook myself.”

“David, don't say that...”

“But why? After all, it annoys you yourself to be killed, so that later this monster will bring your body to this one.”

“Even if this is so, what did she do wrong? You think she herself wants to be an eternal object of obsession. Maybe you can also say the same about Lori?”

“Go to hell, Honas.”

Tears roll up to the corners of your eyes, but you, determined not to cry at least by the fire, go into the forest with your head held high . You can't let others know about this conversation . You can't let others know how much this affects you . You can’t, you can’t, you can’t... but you want to cry even more.

Salty paths sting the skin of the cheeks; as soon as a slight breeze blows, it becomes even worse. The accumulated moisture obscures your eyes, and now you no longer understand what kind of herbs you are collecting: are they daisies? Maybe basil? Or in general you came across calendula. It’s better not to wipe tears from your face with dirty hands, but you didn’t care anymore. Pulling your hand on the sweater, squeezing the ends with your fingers, you try to get rid of the moisture, but you only start crying harder.

The body is beating in hysterics, a silent cry escapes the lips. Why you? Why did the monster like you so much that he decided to destroy your life just to make him his mate? Or have you somehow disappointed the Entity? Maybe they were angry or not desperate enough in this endless cycle.

In an impenetrable fog and behind a veil of tears, being out of your mind, you imagine a blurry figure of a xenomorph. The humanoid creature stands in the distance and does not move. It observes how low you have fallen and despaired, are you ready to accept your fate as it is and as it is destined for you?

“Well, why, why exactly me?..” you ask the image of a stranger, but the creature is silent in response to your question, which only irritates you more. Anger rises from your entire being, pours out in the face of a heart-rending cry of anger at the creature that destroyed your life. “Go to hell...”

“Everything is fine?“

Ripley's voice puts you in a daze. You look away from the mirage, turn away to examine the figure of a woman emerging from the forest, and as soon as you turn back, nothing remains of the image of the xenomorph. The thickening fog dissipates and you realize that all this time you have been talking to a stone, the outlines of which are painfully similar to your personal stalker.

You shake your head. You didn’t want Ellen to witness your tears and hysteria, but from her soft look and tone, it became clear that she understood everything. That’s why she was silent, allowing you to release your simmering emotions, to throw out the disappointment and indignation that had accumulated over all the trials with the xenomorph.

The woman comes closer and puts her arm around your shoulders . She hugs the way a mother hugs her beloved child, who has faced adversity and is ready to shelter her from any problems. But Louise is not omnipotent, even if she wants to be so; it cannot shelter you from the oppression of the Entity and the xenomorph possessed by you, but it is able to give you warmth and peace, so that at least for a couple of minutes you do not think about the inevitable.

Ripley's arms are warm and calm.

“Cry as much as you need,” the woman says the words that you have long wanted to hear. At least from someone, even from damn David . Your grip on her back only gets stronger, and the fabric of her clothes wrinkles in your fingers. “I believe that you can cope with all adversities. But don’t keep negativity inside you that you can’t live with.“

“I can…” you sigh into her neck. The former officer smells of a fire, a wet forest and, not surprisingly, the Nostromo, the smell of which is difficult to describe; if you did take a chance, the first thing that comes to mind is the viscous saliva of the xenomorph and its acidic blood. “Thank you for this...” you say, after a minute of silence in someone else’s arms. “Ellen, is there anything else in the behavior of the xenomorph that I should know about?”

“After the stage of courtship on the part of the male, it follows...”

Mount Ormond greets you with the illusion of a bright sun in the sky, snowdrifts and a cold wind from which you cannot hide. And, of course, it was a xenomorph . And of course, you were his obsession.

“Damn, we ended up all together,” David spat on the wooden floor of the shack. “I won’t sit down with you to repair the generator...”

Honas, who spoke, was clearly not in the best mood. Especially after what his friend said.

“Don’t interfere. I can handle the generators myself, without you.”

With these words, David left you, leaving you alone with Vasquez and Michaela. Ridd looked somewhat surprised, as evidenced by her slightly open mouth and confused look as she followed King's back before he disappeared into the distance.

“Idiot...” Honas sighed before turning to you and the witch. “Shall we repair this generator?”

“If you don’t mind, I would like to bless the totem. At the same time, I’ll see if there are any damned totems here, who knows what.”

“Okay, I don’t mind ,” you quickly agree with other people’s words and approach the generator to begin repairs. The man who remains with you sits down next to you and there is silence for a long time, broken by the sounds of equipment being repaired. When silence becomes unbearable, and curiosity eats up from within, you decide to ask a man a question: “Why did you decide to stay with me?”

“It’s safer that way, isn’t it?”

“Oh, so that’s why,” you think, not comfortingly, “Sorry, but not this time.”

“A?..”

“He is here. Leave.”

You bounce away from the almost started generator, as if from a piece of hot iron, as soon as the head of the xenomorph begins to appear from the strong point. Being a former CIA employee, albeit working in the codebreaking department, Honas had a high reaction speed and endurance, which allowed him to dodge the tail of an alien, directed either in his direction, or in yours, running slightly ahead of the man.

Through one of the Entity's offerings, you have been given the power to see the auras of other survivors. Despite the fact that the yellow figures were poorly visible against the background of the light Ormond , you managed to adjust your path so as not to run out onto David repairing the generator and the red-haired witch blessing the totem . You run into the house, once a mountain resort hotel, and climb to the second floor, watching as the xenomorph, who has lost sight of you , turns his head around and noisily inhales the air, trying to track you by smell. Considering how many times he literally drooled on you, marking you with his scent, it was not surprising that the killer found you quite quickly.

Standing on all fours and preparing its tail, the xenomorph climbed to the second floor after you, while you, without wasting time, ran to the end of the corridor, where there were boards in front of the open (broken) window. You had to slow down so that the stranger could close the distance, and when he stretched his tail forward with monstrous force and speed, you ducked down, thereby dodging the attack, and then knocked together boards were thrown down on the killer’s head.

You heard the evil hiss of the perfect weapon when you were already downstairs, jumping from the second floor window . If this were not the world of essence, but the long-forgotten reality of your native world, a fall from such a height would mean a break in your legs. Without wasting time while the killer was busy destroying the obstacles in his path, you ran to the dilapidated walls with skis and poles to them . The xenomorph could not lose sight of you, and he would not want to switch to another survivor; if one of your comrades suddenly ran into the path of the alien, then at most he would get a paw on the body - no more.

Running away from the creature turned out to be more than exciting . In the struggle for your life, where a wrong turn meant meeting sharp claws, teeth or a tail, fears about what others thought about you receded.

Adrenaline took its place.

It was as if you were playing catch-up not only with the xenomorph and the Entity, but also with death itself, breathing down your neck . What's around the next corner? Where is it better to run, hide, wait? The new role opened up new opportunities and sensations . There was no longer a feeling of that all-consuming helplessness, there was only the instinct of survival, a cold mind and a sober mind, analyzing where to run next or where the killer would attack. And even if other survivors had questions about how you managed to run around while repairing five generators, no one dared to ask questions or express suspicions or indignations, while all four survivors could leave the killer’s territory unharmed.

Nobody. Except David.

Perhaps he was simply jealous or you had hurt his fragile pride, but despite your usefulness and vitality, King continued to cast sidelong glances in your direction . He still refused to work as a team with you, keeping his distance from others and seeming to be waiting for something.

“Tell me honestly, did you lie under this bastard, that he is not specifically hunting you in all seriousness?” when the man’s patience came to an end, he, with a slight squint in his dark eyes, finally voiced the question that had been daring him for a long time. “Or have you been a hidden talent all this time, waiting for the right moment?”

Ellen Ripley was a caring mother, affectionate and kind to you, but absolutely ruthless towards people who did not respect others or value teamwork. Perhaps it was the influence that the new survivor had on you, or perhaps the chase had strengthened your character, leaving behind your former vulnerability and timidity.

Murderers don't like snotty girls who are ready to cry from scratches on their knees. What attracts them much more, one might say excites them, is the pursuit of a victim who has not yet been broken, ready to fight back both physically and verbally.

“Are you jealous?”

“Envy that you turn out to be a whore for murderers, and also for monsters?” David asked with feigned amazement, opening his eyes wide, allowing you to see all the rage, anger, and disappointment that had accumulated over all the trials. Perhaps he, like you, did not have enough time to express his emotions. “I’m just curious who will end up in the same bed with you next. Maybe GostFace? I remember you were so happy to see him.”

You understood that the man was talking complete nonsense . Driven by his emotions, self-disappointment and former helplessness, he watched with envy your rapid growth not only as an individual, but also as a significant member of the team . David, who initially had skills useful to the team, was always treated with inflated expectations, and when he failed to cope, when most or all of the team found themselves in the clutches of the entity, the man took it personally.

You couldn’t blame him for the fact that King sees in you a reflection of himself from the past, but you also had no desire to tolerate his character, groundless rude accusations and insults.

“You know, David,” your voice is deceptively quiet so as not to attract the attention of the xenomorph prowling around the territory allotted to him, but, nevertheless, you clearly highlighted the threat with your intonation. “I used to admire you, no matter what the result of the test...”

“...I don't need your admiration...”

“But now I clearly see that you are nothing more than a boy who is offended by everyone, and first of all by himself ”, here it is. You clearly outlined the reason for this conflict, the struggle not of you against King, but of him against himself. “So before you say anything towards other people, deal with your problems first.”

“Fuck you.”

Careless hand movement. David, without calculating his own strength, pushed you painfully in the chest . Having lost your balance and falling backwards, you began to fall, and in another second, the back of your head could have become closely acquainted with the window frame, leaving you unconscious until the end of the test, if ... if not for the xenomorph located in the window opening .

The absolute predator looked around the shack, hidden under its black shell. One of his paws, large and heavy, lay on your shoulder and held you in place, saving you from a blow . Over the course of countless chases and close contacts, you managed to get used to both the size of the monster and its frightening presence, which is why your heart no longer beat like an antelope in the headlights of a car, but a subconscious fear sometimes tickled your mind . What else you were able to learn during your endless meetings were the shades and echoes of the xenomorph’s emotions , expressed in poses, movements and hisses, and the way the creature from deep space tensed up, preparing for an attack, you could only draw one conclusion - it was very alien angry

For the first time, you so clearly felt his overwhelming thirst for blood, but it was not directed at you at all, but at the cause of your unfulfilled injury. Today, the xenomorph is ready to sacrifice his instincts and eliminate the threat to his future mate.

“Run- ” you manage to scream before the predator points its weapon towards the man. In a second, the alien’s tail could have made a hole in David’s head, if not for the sudden roar of the Entity’s world and its intervention: a semblance of a hand that sprouted from the floor, pierced the creature’s body, entwined it with its spider-like legs and pulled it into the fog.

The test was terminated early.

[rw-ascension-au]

Information.

Greetings, Invenot. I come bearing important information.

Have you found the Artificer or something?

You have guessed correctly. I do have a question, though. What happened to her to cause this karma affliction?

It'd be better to ask her yourself.

Another question, if you don't mind - could the 'rot' Hunter speaks of return at any point?

Sorry, Saint. I don't know. Missions are usually too short for it to come back, so even if it will affect her again, I have no idea.

I take it this is the longest mission you've given them, and by extension, me included?

Yeah. They wanted to go on a big adventure or something. I enjoy seeing them happy.

Very well then. Take care.

Bye!

----

(continued under the cut, this is rather long)

Hunter, are you comfortable with answering a few questions about the rot?

Uh, yeah, go ahead.

How long did it take for the rot to develop?

Well, I don't have a clear starting point, but not very long. Why?

I am simply... collecting information. How long do missions usually last?

... Saint. Are you implying something?

Until I have enough information, no.

I've already ascended. I won't rot again.

You seemed upset upon being asked by that weird overseer.

If I start rotting, you can just ascend me.

Invenot said that they removed the ability for whatever reason. My only hypothesis is that they want us to increase the Artificer's karma ourselves.

...

---

Go bug someone else with your questions.

Before I can do that, we most likely should find shelter. Where are the others?

Hunting.

We can meet them in the den. They will understand what to do.

You can go. You're, uh... annoying me.

If that is your wish.

---

Rivulet? Gourmand? What brings you here, before the others?

Riv thought it'd be a good idea to try and do that spinny-spear thing Spearmaster does.

I almost succeeded! Plus, I have a cool bandage thing now! I look tough, right?

It is not up to me to define it. Though I would say that you have been through your own hardships and still retain a high level of optimism that only colony slugpups would carry. That is an impressive feat.

...oh. Cool. Is that yes or no?

It depends on your personal definition. Anyway, if you're both here, I would like to ask something.

Go on.

Do any of you have experience interacting with rot?

Oh! I do! I had to get a rarefaction cell from a rotting iterator! Five Pebbles!

Do you believe hunter could re-gain the rot during our mission?

...

...

I was the medic for my colony. I wasn't trained in dealing with rot, though. That's a specialised kind of medic, whereas I was more trained for helping with general stuff.

Would Hunter be able to endure a journey to a colony, whilst rotting?

I don't know. Plus, rot is never cured, really. Mostly just... delayed.

That might be able to buy us enough time to get to the Void Sea.

The rot might not even happen.

That is our hope, yes.

---

[survivor] We're back!

Where is Hunter?

[survivor] She said she wanted some time to reflect on something.

[monk] Artificer, can I get down now?

Ah, yes, Artificer. May I ask what happened to your karma?

I don't know. Probably something to do with the explosion thing. Or the scavengers. I don't really care.

You need to care in order to ascend.

Why would I want to do so?

You have achieved all you have wanted to, correct?

...mostly.

What is your final goal?

Either to kill every last scavenger or to see those two again.

Which 'two' do you speak of?

My... my pups.

That explains a lot regarding the way you seem to have adopted Monk.

[survivor] and me, kind of.

We should start eating.

And what about Hunter?

I was gonna save some for her.

Do you have fruit of some kind?

I do! I carry some blue fruit in my bag.

I accept the fruit with gratitude, Gourmand.

---

It can't come back.

Right?

[carp3tpasta]

I did the thing!!

Here's the template

Reasons under the cut

Favorite campaign: This was really difficult, as I enjoy most of them pretty equally. I couldn't narrow it down to one and had to go with top three. I love Hunter's campaign because of the challenge and story, and because it was the first to be different than the first two [no hate, I love the first two]. Ofc, because Hunter is my favorite slugcat too. I really love Artificer's campaign. Being able to explode is super fun [I love arson >:) /j]. Though the Karma mechanic can be annoying, I think it adds to the tragedy of Artificer in a way. I think the campaign would've been way too short without it too. Rivulet is top three cuz. Speed. And the storyline of that campaign...I will never stop crying.

Honorable mentions: Survivor, Spear Master and Saint

Favorite Slugcat: Hunter is my favorite slugcat because of the tragedy of their story and their character. Hunter did not deserve their fate, and even though the ascension ending is a far more peaceful end for them, they still never got the chance to live a full life.

Hardest Campaign: This was kinda difficult to decide as well because some campaigns have things that are both difficult for me and easy for me. But I ended up choosing Saint because it is a lot more difficult to defend yourself and how it is more difficult to find food before you freeze.

Honorable mentions: Spear Master, Artificer

Favorite Lizard: Yellow/Orange lizards because their antennae are cute, and I like that they live in packs and communicate with each other. They are just really silly, and I like them.

Honorable mentions: Cyan: So jump :), but they've caused me much pain. White: They remind me of cats because they're so sleepy, and I like their camouflage ability. They also have caused me much pain.

Favorite Iterator: Five Pebbles is my favorite character in the entire game. His story is a tragedy through and through. He shuts everyone out because he is desperate, angry, and jaded. He hurts everyone who cares about him in one way or another and, worst of all, kills his sister. The Rot he develops, in my interpretation, is a representation of his guilt, that slowly consumes him literally and figuratively. Before he succumbs to it though, he gives the only thing prolonging his life to the person he hurt the most. A representation of the heart. In his own blind rage, he failed to see the value in what he had, and like Hunter, never truly got to live. By the time he does realize, it is too late, and all he can do is give all he has left to Moon in a final attempt to make things right.

Favorite Passage: I like combat. It is fun

Honorable Mentions: The Scholar, The Mother

Favorite Species: King Vultures [and Vultures in general] are just super cool to me. They're terrifying but cool. Like, what is that thing!!?? It's horrible but so neat at the same time!!

Favorite Region: This was also difficult. I decided on Five Pebbles because of how mind-blowing it is the first time you traverse it. Especially with the lead up to it. Traveling through Memory Crypts and Exterior, getting closer to this mysterious destination that isn't just abandoned structures anymore. I think it really highlights how excellent the environmental storytelling is in Rain World. Also, Random Gods is so good. This isn't my favorite region in terms of being there for fun, however. But I couldn't choose one favorite for those either.

They are: Chimney Canopy, Industrial Complex, Outskirts and Shoreline

[the-robot-bracket]

Five Pebbles propaganda:

"He's like 2 cm tall and also the size of a city. He was 'born' sopping wet in a can all alone and is angry at everything always and forever. He has made big mistakes and feels desperately guilty for them and tries his hardest to make up for them. He is a tiny little bug shouting at the world. Just look at his little antennae."

"Five Pebbles is a bio-mechanical supercomputer so large he literally has a metropolis built on top of him but he is also a little ~2ft. nerd who's into poetry and angrily rants to animals. He has a million absent parents. He nearly killed his sister and is sad about it for the rest of time. A rat kills him. This is the ideal character. #FIVEPEBBLESSWEEP"

"Hes a little pink guy, hes also a massive biomechanical superstructure. he wanted to kill himself so bad but only ended up giving himself turbo robot cancer and killing his older sister in the process (who i will also submit in a bit) Hes sooo silly i want to hit him with a brick. If you do that tho he just fries your brain instantly. love him"

"Oh he's such a cringe fail pathetic man, chugged so much water in an attempt to kill himself, instead kills his sister (kinda) and gives himself robo cancer. He'd listen to mcr and watch those cringey emo warrior cat amvs everyday if he could"

"He canonically has a rip-off Pepsi brand based on him, and he also has official art of him as a cat boy."

"Silly little goober, basically a God but also a tiny tiny little buddy."

"Imagine youre busy doing the hardest math ever when a feral cat scampers into your house, bites a chunk out of you, and scatters all your work everywhere. Then imagine that your reaction is to give this feral cat the gift of understanding speech and bless it with ultimate enlightenment so that it may escape samsara. This exact situation happened to Mr Fruity Pebbles about 4 times"

"I'm sure you've heard plenty about how pathetic this massive-yet-tiny supercomputer boy is so I'll just list off some semi-obscure facts that make him even more of my miserable wet cat

- He gets a surprise roommate of an explosive rat on a genocide mission and proceeds to talk to them like they're a person. He acts like they're the most annoying thing in the world but he also gets excited when they bring him something cool, or is clearly trying not to break down in front of them if they bring him chat logs with his friends and/or sister (that he killed)

- He is, both physically and mentally, being eaten from the inside by the consequences of his actions, due to the robot turbocancer and his own inescapable regret

- He seems to project onto nearly every rat that stumbles into his room, assuming they want to die just as much as he does

- The devs once commissioned multiple artworks of him in a catboy outfit I want this twink obliterated and I will fulfill those wishes as the rat who kills him."

"Failed so hard at killing himself, he killed himself. Looks like a lollipop in a dress. I make a habit of dumping stray kittens into his house so I guess a nomination counts as child support."

"Idk he tries to kill himself and fails so miserably it's kinda funny. Also he sucks god bless america"

"He's a wet cat."

[keywhole]

radio waves.

okay i toss this to the wolves. i've only seen like 1/4th of the game so if u tag this w spoiler mentions pls add that theres spoilers bc I Will Read Every Tag.

18+ for heavy gore. also. trigger warning for gore.

sanmos deimos/sanford lil hurt/comfort bc deimos has adhd/autism it's true he told me himself also ty @sparrowchute for editing this bc i would never 4.8k words enjoy

——————————————————————————————————

Hearing the alarms on the rooftop had sucked ass, but in the sewers? Oh, Deimos wanted to kill himself.

The sound pierced directly through his headphones as if they were made of clay. They weren’t. They were a good sturdy pair of a headset; Deimos just kept them a few sizes down for them to be pressed into his head. For something he found as a joke, his dumbass trademark had become a lifesaver. He never understood the phrase “so quiet you can hear a pin drop,” until he found these. And, well, after Doc fixed them up a little, but even before that they were perfect. He could finally hear and not hear at the same time. Instead of hearing every single creak of metal or wood, pounding enemies a dozen feet from him, with stomping footsteps behind, he just heard the footsteps. Instead of being in car crashes and hearing every sputter of the engine, every shriek that the windows made as they broke, he just heard Sanford asking if everyone was okay, Hank complaining about an illegal left, and his own laughter. It was like he was a radio, and the dial finally found a sweet spot.

But somehow, those tall ass dinner bells had shot right through the shells. The headphones were no match for the blaring sound the towers bellowed, and they didn’t stop. It started out as just an annoying ringing in his ears, fine, nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. But they really didn’t stop. Deimos and Sanford were careful, duh, but zeds weren’t. Little tiny pebbles that touched a goddamn pixel within their range weren't careful. Sure, yeah, it was pretty much par for the course for the two of them, but it sucked ass. And then sucked more ass. 

Every ricochet of drops hitting the sewer water echoed in Deimos’ ears. The water simply moved and bounced in his eardrums and never stopped, because that’s how water works. The old metal creaked inches from age and what lived behind the bars, and even with their sneaking and stealthy footsteps, they sounded like slams against the ground. The feeling of it too was louder to himself because it was, y’know, himself, and Deimos wanted to punch through the side of his head and close his eardrums by hand. He had considered if that would be beneficial in the long run, but they didn’t have enough bandages for all that jazz. He was in hell, and he’d have to deal with it for now. Deimos had done better with worse.

It still SUCKED MAJOR ASS though.

Especially when Sanford had simply explained a plan for once they get out of this place, and Deimos just had to find a dick joke in there, and moved his hand slightly too far to the left and set off an alarm. The same constant ringing that ripped through his skull, except it was amplified by the tunnel of steel encasing the two of them. A shit-fart of a cacophony. It got to the point where he couldn’t tell if it was a zed’s skull or his own cracking in half. The latches of the gate audibly flaked rust as they wailed open, letting a disgusting amount of sludge that pounded against the water beneath it, all combined with the swampy zeds treaded forward with footsteps that sounded like they belonged to moist giants. Not only that, but one of them (if not both) had been pushed into another alarm, which doubled the process.

In case it needed reminding in the last five hundred and eighty-seven words, Deimos wanted to kill himself.

The fights weren’t exactly a big deal physically. The second wave sort of (literally) swamped them, but it wasn’t anything the two of them couldn’t handle. Sanford was slashing his hook through skulls, using various heads as surprisingly useful hammers. Deimos switched between his gun and his bat, but he was off his game. Sanford was there, and his guard over both of them around zeds made up for it, but at some point Deimos couldn’t take it anymore. He took out his gun, and didn’t let go of the trigger. The noise was worse, the recoil creating a sound that not only shot outside his body, but inside, too. But, hey, if his ears were going to bleed, he had to do some of the damage himself. Go big or go home, and the latter didn’t have much meaning for him. So he flooded his ears until he felt Sanford pull his wrist aside.

Deimos’ head was pounding. Luckily, Sanford took a second to scan their surroundings to inadvertently  give the other a chance to compose his face. He pinched between his eyes, not a single beat in the air dropping. Everything was at a constant state of screeching, despite the outward danger being nill. He was about to consider busting his head open and ripping out whatever part of the brain registered sound when Sanford turned back around. He knew Sanford was scanning him to make sure he was okay, and at least it seemed Deimos could keep it together on the outside, in the dark. Sanford quickly gestured for him to follow, hugging the wall a bit more. Deimos knew that also meant to parrot his movements and follow him carefully.

“Up ahead there seems to be a dip in the wall,” Sanford said whispering, though it hit the other like he was speaking in his normal volume, “We should be able to at least breathe for a second.”

“Gotcha,” Deimos whispered in a desperate amount to not say anything more. He was talking as quietly as he could, an attempt to not even be able to hear it himself, but he still did. It received a nod from the other, so at least he knew he was keeping it together at the moment. They shuffled, and he put up with it, his head on a swivel as natural. His face was constantly twitching in discomfort. 

The ringing didn’t stop. It didn’t even start to ebb off.

Luckily, the little dip had been just a small, closed off alley-sorta thing. The two of them checked it out for any ironic traps, but Deimos called it quits far before Sanford and sat himself down. His ass hit the ground and his hands immediately flew up to press his headphones deeper into his head. It muffled some of the water, but the metal was loud.

Sanford wasn’t looking.

One of his hands was pressing against the edge of their little hiding hole while the other was gripping at the handle of his hook. His head was jotting around as he scanned the surroundings. The exit was in sight, but it was still quite a few tip-toes away. There was little to no telling of what was behind that door. Of what Sanford could remember, he could work out some kind of probability, but it’d be a long shot. And with shots on the mind, he thought back to how Deimos just let it rip with his gun. The coast seemed clear, but Sanford didn’t turn around when he sighed.

“You didn’t have to drop all that lead, y’know?” Sanford couldn’t be too mad, because he had spread the bullets out to save him the trouble of being tackled down, “I have no idea when we’ll be able to stock up again.”

“Hey, Sanford.” Deimos' voice was a bit out of breath, but not enough to be concerning; there was a small laugh in it. He tried for it to not sound too forced, because Sanford would notice immediately, so he kept thinking about that time Sanford blew himself up with a grenade. It had been really funny. No one had time for Deimos’ drama, and he knew that, but he wanted to peel his flesh off until that was the last resort. “Be quiet for a sec, ‘kay?”

Sanford knitted his brows. His sense of sight was more focused than his hearing, but he at least gathered a decent idea that his partner definitely needed a break. He couldn’t lie, he wouldn’t mind one himself, but he knew they didn’t have the time for his sore muscles. He didn’t like zeds. He really, really didn’t. It’s not like Deimos did either, he knew they both wanted to get the fuck out of here, but they can’t take a short rest while they’re in initiative. With his back turned, Sanford had no idea of the actual state his partner was in, but with the super funny joke he had made earlier that set off the alarms had him adverse to the idea of him taking him too seriously right now. It’s not like he was mad— no, the joke had been super funny and worth it— but again, they both wanted to get the fuck out of here.

“Deimos, this really isn’t the time to fuck around, we—”

“Sanford, seriously,” Deimos sounded annoyed, but that same rhythm was practiced in his voice, “Shut up for a second.”

Okay. Okay, that was a bit weird. Surely Deimos wasn’t doing the thing where he hides something tying him down under jokes— oh, Sanford felt like a fucking idiot for even considering the possibility that Deimos wasn’t covering something up. They still seemed safe for the time being, at least. He turned his head around to look at the other, confused and concerned.

Deimos was reaching his limit. Usually, when they found a spot they could sit, they had a quiet moment while Sanford jotted some things down and Deimos did fuckall (mostly sneaking in a cigarette) and took an actual second to themselves. This wasn’t one of those moments. His hands kept pressing and pressing and pressing his headphones closer to his head. He didn’t know if that was helping, or if it was making his circulation fucked up enough to cover up more sound. He didn’t want to be a dick, he really didn’t, but if Sanford didn’t give him a minute of silence Deimos would have to be getting his ears sewn back on when they got back. Or bash his head in with a nail bat until he could pick his own brain out; whichever would be faster, either were inevitable. Sanford was walking over to him. The only eye Deimos had opened twitched over to him for a moment, seeing only concern in his face. Despite trying to keep that feeling away from him, he found comfort in the care. He couldn’t comprehend that right now. His skin was buzzing with the reverb of every sound. Sanford’s shoes scraped against the ground in a sound that made his skin burn and sent bullets straight into his brain. His ears couldn’t stand it. The usual soothing gruff in his voice sounded like static squeaking. Deimos knew he was only trying to help. The part of his mind with sense had instantly regretted not asking for it in the first place, but Sanford didn’t shut up, let alone shut the fuck up, and the care didn’t make sense next to the rattles of metal, or the groans of rusted gates, or the sheet of crashes sewage water created. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? I have some—”

Deimos opted to push his headset against his head until the plastic was digging into him. One of his knees dug into his forehead as he killed his own ears himself. Once again, Deimos had to stumble into an alarm.

“Sanford I need you to shUT THE FUCK UP!”

Oh. Oh, shit, something was wrong. Sanford’s shoulders fell. He didn’t turn around fast enough.

The yell was loud enough for some attention to be drawn. Dammit, if Sanford had just noticed Deimos was struggling earlier he could’ve used that very convenient spot to actually help him. The gates behind him opened with moans of familiar fuckers, and another slab of guilt stacked onto Sanford’s shoulders when he realized he’d have to turn his back again. But he had to take care of this before he could do anything for Deimos, so he tugged the rope on his hook for the handle to be back in his hand. With Deimos’ hands still clutched to the side of his head, he still moved his elbow towards his gun before Sanford put out a hand. Unfortunately, he had to talk.

“Don’t— I got this, just stay here.”

He hopped out of their ratting spot and hooked the closest zed by the legs. He flung it against the wall, hopefully buying himself some time to spread the zeds farther away from Deimos. Being in the middle of it all would be a bit of a risky move alone, but he’d find a way to make it work. Deimos hadn’t looked injured (but, then again, goop thrown up on him from a sewer creature could probably cover up blood) but he looked in pain. Either way, something was wrong, and he hadn’t realized. Sanford was so good at noticing his hints, but Deimos was just as good at faking it.

A fist flew its way through a zed’s stomach, making it fall to the ground with a gross squelch, leaving Sanford nothing but a bloody fist. He lifted his boot to crush its head, his foot soon flushed to the ground as if he stepped on a rotten pumpkin. If pumpkins had a lot more blood, at least. His less bloodied arm swung his hook into the throat of another, throwing the freak into another zed to buy him time. With said time, he ended up getting punched in the face and grabbed by the arm. He fought them off with a decent amount of effort before he loosened the rope on his hook to return the punch he owed, and kicked the other zed in the chest to send it down. That same leg stayed up to kick against the standing zed’s shoulder to give him the leverage to grab the thing by the sides of the head and twist its head off. Its bones let out a crunching sigh of relief, as if they had been begging to be free of the rotting meat they were trapped in. It fell towards him, which he dodged right back to the two zeds that were standing once again as they were still held together like a fucked up shish kabob. Sanford pulled the rope tighter to his hand as he lunged himself forward and stomped on their chests. His arm ripped the blade forward, short enough for a flick of his wrist to hold the hilt in his hand. It slashed against the zed’s faces with a rough, wet tear. Good.

There was a tug at the back of Sanford’s leg that led to an instinctual kick. He spun around to see a zed with no legs reaching towards him, its spine poking out of its body. His free boot sent a quick kick up into its open mouth, easily knocking the top of its head off with a swift movement, leaving nothing but a forgotten bottom jaw. A few more surrounded him, green foam bubbling from its mouth. This wasn’t going to be easy with a single weapon. His eyes jotted down to the dead legless zed, the spine writhing out like a larva trying to escape. Sanford ripped it out of its body, feeling it creak and shatter under his hand like spikes of wood. He slammed it into the side of another zed’s head and pierced it through and through. The head stuck on the barbs of the spine kept the thick sludge of a head stuck to it as Sanford whipped around once again and scratched another zed’s face before shoving it down. He used the other, splintered end of the spine to stab another in the face, the movement causing the stuck zed head to drop to his fear and roll around the other corpses. 

It wasn’t long until most of the heads were bashed in, but there were always, always ones that still got back up. Sanford gripped his hook as he threw it forward, giving its rope some slack. He didn’t have time for this. Something was wrong with Deimos.

“Just stay the fuck down, you chu—”

With precision and instinct Sanford hopped to the right to avoid a litter of bullets heading straight towards a zed’s head. It went down immediately, and Sanford couldn’t help but turn his head. Deimos was laying on his side with a cheek pressed to the ground with his gun matching his line of sight. His cheeks felt wet, and he was really hoping it was just miscellaneous goop and not tears. In Deimos’ mind, firing a few shots was the least he could do. In Sanford’s, it instilled another set of determination. He was hurting, but still at his back to help him. Sanford gave him a stern look, but his smile was sweet; a very “this stupid, stupid man” smile.

Deimos could only fire so many bullets. Partially because it was making him go insane, and he wasted most of his ammunition in a fit of rage. Still, it sped up the process of taking the rest of them down, but even with the extra hand Sanford eventually gave him the signal to stop. Deimos didn’t know why, but he did, because his aim was getting worse with disorientation swarming his head. Sanford must’ve noticed that. Or maybe Deimos’ aim had been fucked up enough to graze his arm— he didn’t know, and as long as Sanford wasn’t screaming in pain, it didn’t seem like he had to care.

The scariest part was making sure Sanford could creep his way back into the pair’s hiding spot without attracting further attention. Deimos really couldn’t care much, as long as Sanford was okay. His feet kicked their way to the back of the wall and had his shoulders fight to climb its way up for him to (lopsidedly) sit up. With his back against the wall, he finally had his hands free to push the padding against his ears closer. The pressure on his head was uncomfortable, but so were the bullets pelting their way into his brain through sound. The protection of the headset began to press into his skin more this time, the pads flat against the sides of his head. He could feel the plastic sewing its way against his skin. Was this the last resort?

Sanford stepped back into the tiny ally while looking in each direction. 

“Safe,” He said, mostly to himself, and turned around to run to Deimos and ended up skidding on one knee to meet his level, “I’m here, I’m here, what’s up?”

An annoyed groan ripped its way through Deimos’ tired, overworked lungs. How is Sanford not getting it? With great dramatic effect with his elbows, he pressed the muffs closer and closer and harsher against his head. He could feel the plastic scrape against his skin.

That’s when it all clicked. Sanford felt as if he failed a test for not realizing it sooner.

It was pretty common for certain sounds to cause Deimos to say his ears were ringing, but they always seemed to pass. Or, at the very least, was bearable enough for him to seemingly ignore it, but this one had been constant. They had been careful, yes, but shit still happened, because they were Sanford and Deimos. When the first alarm was tripped, he thought the majority of Deimos’ aggravation at it was the surprise. But adding on the fact that a few more went off— Hell, Deimos was probably still hearing the first alarm screeching in his ears.

Sanford crouched down in front of Deimos. His face was twitching with discomfort, and his chest was rising in panic. Slow enough for Deimos to stop them, he moved to be next to him. His arms laid around his shoulders at the same speed. Deimos didn’t stop him, but he also didn’t loosen up on the force of his headphones. Sanford tried to lower his voice to a point where he could hardly hear it himself, but he didn’t know how loud that was going to be right next to Deimos.

“I’ll keep an eye out, just try to breathe.”

And then, finally, Sanford shutted the fuck up.

His hands gently laid around Deimos’. He wished he could stop shaking, but the weight of Sanford’s arm was enough to hold him a bit more in place. Sanford’s fingers laced with his and gently tugged them away from the casing of his headset. They gently lifted his hands up, only a little, so that the blood coming from the small cuts on his head would slow at some point. Sanford applied the pressure with his wrists, an amount that kept it from hurting him, by gently guiding his hands off carefully. Deimos let him. The pressure slowly released, and blood suddenly felt normal throughout his body. Sanford’s wrist still kept down the pressure while he let his hands be peeled back. Sanford was still keeping an eye out. He could breathe. Deimos’ hand relaxed against his palms. He finally untensed his own wrists, but the muffling of sound was still there with Sanford’s help. One of his arms was around his shoulders.

Deimos closed his eyes and leaned a bit more against Sanford’s arm. The light blanket of quiet that attempted to cover up the overwhelming noise of everything ever was now in his hands. The warmth, and sticky-icky shit from fighting off icky-sticky zeds, was something Deimos could focus on. Everything was still there, threatening to overwhelm him to the point of crushing his own skull with his headphones, but the small bit of reduction was now thanks to Sanford. Deimos lifted his fingers to lay over Sanford’s as much as he could. What was left of a comfortable volume was easier to focus on with the outside comfort. 

Thankfully, their hands only moved to adjust to the position of Deimos turning his head to look up at Sanford. It hurt his head and his throat when he cleared it, trying to find the right way to talk with the least discomfort while he still had time.

“Sorry,” He sheepishly said in his anxiety riddled smile, “I didn’t mean to, to uh, y’know, yell at you. Not really.” 

Sanford shook his head. He turned his body a bit more to face Deimos, his hands holding the mittens around his ears in a firm but not intense force, but his arms were relaxed.

“I know, I know— it probably hurt you a lot more than it hurt me. I get it now,” Sanford whisper-talked(?) in a way like he was trying to turn a dial on the radio, trying to find the sweet spot, “Don’t worry about it, okay? Is this helping?”

He gave Deimos more time to breathe. His hands shakily reached up and placed themselves on Sanford’s biceps, taking a deep breath in, and a long breath out. It still felt as though if the two of them lifted their hands his ears would start spewing blood, but it didn’t seem like either of them would be letting go anytime soon. Right now, Sanford’s hands were keeping that overwhelming static that threatened to incase his senses at an almost bearable bay. When he looked up, the worry and care in Sanford’s face made him glance away. That part of sense in his brain that wanted to reach out for his help before? Yeah, it's at the forefront of his brain now. And it made his chest warm, and his face hot, and a bit more guilty for accidentally yelling loud enough to make Sanford lose whatever recuperation time he had in this spot. More sensations for him to focus on.

“Yeah,” Deimos admitted when he looked back at Sanford with a hint of a smile, “A little.”

A little while ago, Deimos had been writhing in discomfort, when he could laugh with broken ribs. But the moment Sanford’s hands could take their place beneath his, Deimos was giving him an embarrassed smile. A dopey grew on his face. He pressed his forehead against his. He could hear Deimos’ smile in his laugh.

Sanford pulled back with a huff. Now he knew what the problem was and, luckily, found a temporary fix. “Okay, how’re we gonna keep this right until we can take a look at it and see what we can really do?”

Deimos grinned. “I don’t have a fucking clue.”

Sanford was already nodding before Deimos even answered, because he already knew he had no fucking clue. Not only because he just knew him, but he knew how Deimos also couldn’t think when everything sounded like pot pans being slammed together. He hummed in thought, before he sat up. Softly, he reversed his hands with Deimos’. He made sure Deimos’ palms weren't pressing down too hard once they were placed on the shells, before he (reluctantly) let go. He reached into one of his side pockets before motioning Deimos to put his head down. With a confused look, he did so.

He heard the sound of fabric against the shell of his headphones. The fabric pulled tighter, similar to the added weight Sanford had applied. He felt Sanford securing something on his forehead.

“Okay, let go, see how that feels.”

Slowly, with genuine fear, Deimos lifted his hands. He blinked. It wasn’t as filtering, but it was similar. It was bearable. He moved to touch his forehead, feeling a knot with little, messy bits of fabric sticking up. “What’d you do?”

“I ripped a bandana a few days ago and kept the scrap, just in case,” Sanford said as quiet as he had been, “It’s not enough to cover up much but, hey, looks like it came in handy. How is it?”

Deimos adjusted it. He moved the fabric to the middle of his muffs, tightening the knot a bit. The creaking of the metal wasn’t as taunting. The water sounded farther away. There was only one test That could really see if it’ll work at all.

“Uuuuuhhhh,” Deimos adjusted to the sound of his own voice before he looked up at Sanford, “Say something.”

Sanford smiled. His hands moved up to hold Deimos’ shoulders. “Hi, Deimos.”

The soothingness of Sanford’s voice was back. Everything else felt like needles trying to use him as a pincushion, but needles were better than bullets. In two little words, Deimos was melting with a silly smile, finally able to straighten his vision and being held by what he saw. “Hey, Sanford. You smell like shit.”

Sanford’s snort was a happy chime in the musky air. “Yeah, because you smell any better. Works?”

“Yep, I’m just a drama queen.”

Sanford huffed. He shook his head, his hands falling down Deimos’ arm to his hands as he started to stand up. His grip wasn’t tight enough to force Deimos to stand; it was his choice to make. He took it. They didn’t let go of each other’s hands. “You’re not a drama queen. Next time, just say something, okay? Yeah, we’re in a crunch here, but there’s time for you.”

Deimos bit the inside of his lip. If he hadn’t been crying earlier, he came pretty close to then and there. He gently shoved Sanford’s shoulder, but put a hand on his bicep to keep him from actually moving. “Dammit, dude, don’t get so sentimental.”

Sanford smiled. There was his stupid, stupid man. He couldn’t help but chuckle, which made Deimos snicker under his hand before he took a step back. Unfortunately, he did have to reload his gun, because they did have to move. Sanford still kept a watchful eye out. Once Deimos was standing at the ready, Sanford couldn’t help but smirk. He flicked one of the loose pieces from the knot around his forehead. 

“If you’re a drama queen, is this your crown?” Sanford teased.

With a flushed face he waved away Sanford’s hand, the two of them in hushed laughter. Deimos shook his head, and this time Sanford knew he was fine. The playfulness in his voice was real. “I’m mostly good now, but maybe you should still shut the fuck up.”

Sanford laughed as Deimos started to walk to the opening of their hide-y hole, quickly stepping to his side. “What? Should I carry you, too, your Highness?”

Deimos groaned into a flustered laugh as Sanford grinned, gently nudging his way in front of Deimos to guide him out in the best direction. His arm still brushed against Deimos’. 

He smiled up at his partner.

“C’mon, get a move on,” Deimos said, “I still wanna get out of this place alive."

[killerrobot-killingmatch]

Five Pebbles Propaganda

I put Ai but specifically he's a literally mountain sized supercomputer but he also has a person sized robot guy he uses as an avatar of sorts. I wouldn't say he's bloodthirsty but he's basically a depressed and suicidal superintelligent being who views himself so far above organic living things he compares himself to a god. And he's an asshole even when he bothers to care, and he doesn't always do even that. He will just kill meddling creatures (especially you, the player) if you annoy him. An easy way to annoy him woyld be to, for example, stay in his robo avatar's room a bit too long. And he tasks another character to basically wipe out a whole society of intelligent, sapient creatures that had taken residence on top of his structure, even though there's evidence he might have been on friendly or at least speaking terms with their chief previously. He also killed his sister, another supercomputer. It wasn't actively malicious, but he knew he was damaging her and still didn't stop, and he refused to admit his wrongdoings for what's propably hundreds or thousands of years. Additionally, his fault but no longer controlled by him: he accidentally created a whole species of living, all consuming cancer cell creatures that are wrecking havoc on the world now, consuming all living things. 

he literally killed his own sister in an attempt to erase himself. he also calls you a wet rat

[outerbankspreferences]

Love Story - JJ Maybank

Request: Anonymous said:A jj imagine where the reader and him are secretly dating cause she’s a kook but she has a “fake” (rafe doesn’t think it’s fake and wants it to be real) relationship with rafe because their parents made them date for the family buisness or whatever and rafe catches them meeting up one night or something and he tells her parents and they go and get her and she fights to be with him??? (Sorry Ik it’s super long lol)

MASTERLIST

WORD COUNT: 6485

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long to post, but I’ve been going through some stuff and working, but I hope you enjoy this, Plus this is the longest fic I’ve ever written.

  We were both young when I first saw you I close my eyes and the flashback starts I'm standin' there On a balcony in summer air See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns See you make your way through the crowd And say, "Hello" Little did I know

  You were stuck at another Kook event hosted by the country club your parents attend. Your parents were one of the wealthier families in the Outer banks. Your father was the district attorney, and your mother was an accomplished writer. You always hated the flashy money lifestyle they lived, finding it completely fake. The only other family that came closer to yours were the Cameron’s’. Ward and Rose Cameron had plenty of businesses and investments which helped them claim high status on the Figure Eight.

 It’s didn’t surprise anyone how close the two families were. You and Sarah were close friends considering you were the same age. You and Sarah bonded over many shopping trips and getaways. You weren’t as close with her other siblings, finding Wheezie annoying and Rafe stuck up. You thought maybe Rafe would grow out of things as he got older, but he grew into a nasty personality that your parents were oblivious to.

 It had been your father and Ward’s idea to set the two of you up. Ward was trying to sneak his way into your lives, thinking the DA wouldn’t be a bad friend to have when he needed something done. Your father thought Rafe was a “wonderful young gentleman with plenty to offer.” You didn’t think anything of it when it would just be your parents and the two of you until you found out from Sarah that she wasn’t invited because of this arrangement.

 You were happy to carry on the façade if it helped your parents. What could it hurt? A few supper dates and showing up to events together. At least you wouldn’t have suffer through dumb Kook things alone. Soon enough you and Rafe started to hang out even when you didn’t have to. You liked seeing this side of Rafe, a more vulnerable side. He was carefree and silly when he was with you. Rafe had found himself falling for you and all your quirks. He had been feeling a lot of pressure from his father about taking over the business, and you seemed to ease some of the pressure from him.

 You thought he was an okay person before he started doing drugs. You were fine with smoking weed considering you smoked yourself. You were even okay with the partying and drinking, but when you found out he was snorting coke, it went too far for you. You had talked to him about and he would always brush it off as being too stressed and it helped him. He would always get upset when you talked about, so you tried to avoid the subject.

 Soon enough the drugs took over his life and he started to sell them. The people he hung out with scared you, so you kept your distance. It was rolling around to Midsummers and you were nervous of going with Rafe. He seemed to be snapping at you more and more lately and you weren’t looking forward to seeing him.

 ~~

You and Sarah had gone to the mainland one day to go dress shopping and have lunch. You guys were wondering around the store when she started going on about some boy she had met. “I don’t know Y/N, he’s so great but things are so complicated.” Sarah spoke, but you didn’t understand. The last time you checked she was seeing Topper, and things were going great. “Wait are we talking about Topper? What can be complicated there, he’s a nice guy.” You questioned. “What if I’m not talking about Topper?” She trailed off, trying to gage your reaction. “I don’t know you guys were having troubles, but if he doesn’t make you happy then you should probably move on before it gets too serious.” You skimmed through some more dresses, grabbing a green one you liked. “Wait, if you’re not seeing Topper then, who is it?” You looked over at her.

 “You promise not to tell anyone?” She asked almost whispering like the other people in the store might be listening. You nodded encouraging her to tell you. “John B.” She whispered. “John B. that works on your dads bought John B.? Oh-Rose is going to so pissed.” You laughed to yourself. “Yeah, we had some weird encounter the other day after the Boneyard party.” “You mean the party that he fought Topper, and that JJ Maybank almost shot him?” You recounted the last party you guys went too; things had gotten out hand quickly. “You know how things went down Y/N, Topper almost killed John B.” She reminded you. “Well, if he makes you happy then I say go for it. I’ll support you. I mean, he’s friends are pretty hot.” You giggled thinking about how attractive you found JJ.

 You never tried to pursue anything with JJ because everyone knew he didn’t go for Kooks, or actual relationships. It was more of a “one and done” kind of scenario with him, and you knew that’s not what you wanted. It didn’t stop you from checking him out from your bedroom window when he came to mow your lawn once a week.

 ~~

The night of midsummers had finally rolled around, and you were getting everything ready. You had your hair appointment earlier in the day and now you were getting the finishing touches of your makeup down and giggling with Sarah. “Are you guys almost done?” Rose had come in seeming inpatient. This year the Cameron’s were getting honored for all the hard work Ward had down for the community and you had to walk in with them. “Uh yeah we’re almost done, just finishing up.” You spoke up. Rose let out a huff and told you guys to be downstairs in five minutes. “Oh god, I think that crowns gone to her head.” Sarah spoke up making you laugh out loud. “What’s so funny in here?” Rafe came in texting on his phone. He was wearing a baby blue suit and you had on a simple off-white gown. When Rafe looked at you his jaw dropped. He had been to plenty events with you, but you had never gotten this dressed up. He thought looked stunning in your dress. “Holy shit Y/L/N, you look amazing” he spoke causing you to blush. Rose called up to you guys again pulling you from you trance. You and Sarah got up and headed downstairs and Rafe said he needed to get something from his room.

 You guys were downstairs taking pictures with your family when you father asked where Rafe was. “I’m right here” Rafe spoke coming around the corner. You could see a bit of white powder on his suit and you knew exactly what he went to do. You rushed up and brushed the bit of powder away before anyone could tell and he let out a silent thank you. Once you got the pictures done, everyone got ready to leave, but you pulled Rafe aside for a second.

 “No funny business, promise?” You asked looking into his eyes, but all you could see were blown pulps and him rolling them. “When do I ever cause problems?” He countered obviously annoyed. “I’m not saying that Rafe, I’m just saying that I don’t want anything to happen like last time.” You explained. He moved out of your grip and headed for the door. “As long as those Pouges don’t cause any problems then we have nothing to worry about.”

 ~~

You practically avoided Rafe like the plague the rest of the night. You and Sarah had dance for awhile before you were interrupted by JJ Maybank, “this is from Vlad.” He shouted over the music before moving to scoop you up in his arms spinning you around as he handed something to Sarah. You looked at her confused, but she was smiling like an idiot. You gave JJ a weird look, “young love, makes people do crazy things.” He spoke still dancing with you.

 You got a good look at his face; it had a few scars and a small black eye. You pretended not to notice, even though you knew it was from the movie night last week. Rafe had come home with the similar marks.

 That you were Romeo, you were throwin' pebbles And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet" And I was cryin' on the staircase Beggin' you, "Please don't go, " and I said

Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

 “Where’s your plus one princess?” JJ asked pulling you a little closer to him. You couldn’t help but blush at the nickname. “He’s somewhere”- “I’m right here Maybank, and I’m pretty sure you’re dancing with my girl.” Rafe stepped in, “do you mind getting me another drink, you’re working here right?” He said in nasty tone. “Well, I would you see, but I’m super busy,” JJ spoke trying to get away from the death grip Rafe had on the collar of his shirt. “Rafe, stop please, you promised.” You cut in, not wanting to cause a scene. Rafe let go of JJ and grabbed you by the arm pulling you away. You sent an apologetic look to JJ before leaving with Rafe.

 Rafe had pulled you all through the venue before he got to the balcony on the second floor. “What the hell Y/N? Do you know how that looks to everyone when you defend some low life over me?” He yelled at you. You had never seen Rafe this angry with you before. “Why does it even matter, it’s not like we’re actually dating. We’re doing this to help our parents out.” You raised your voice at him. “These people don’t know that,” he gestured to everyone downstairs. “they think we’re together, but know they think you’re with that scumbag.” “Shut up Rafe, you don’t know anything about him.” You hollered at him. He had no right to say those things about JJ.

 What you didn’t know was that JJ was watching from the party. He knew what Rafe was like when he was angry. He wanted to go after you when Rafe drug you away, but he also didn’t want to cause any drama towards you. He watched the two of you go up the balcony. When he saw Rafe getting in your face he headed towards the balcony to make sure you were okay.

 When he got up there, he could tell you were crying, and he could still hear Rafe yelling at you. “Is everything okay Y/N?” He asked walking towards you and Rafe shook his head, “everything is fine pouge, mind your own damn business.” JJ ignored what Rafe was saying, walking towards you, “do you want to come downstairs Y/N?” he asked softly, trying to calm you down. “Look, I said we’re fine, she’s fine”- “oh yeah, most girls are fine when they’re crying like that.” JJ cut Rafe off, and you finally spoke up. “I want to go home, JJ can you please take me home.” You asked him, not looking at Rafe. “Y/N don’t be dramatic. I can take you home, we came here together.” Rafe reasoned with you, but you didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

 JJ led you out of the venue and towards the door when Kelce and Topper stopped him. “Oh shit.” He mumbled under his breath, but you heard. You grabbed his hand, silently telling him you were scared, and he tucked you behind him. “Hey there Maybank, where do you think you’re going?” Kelce asked, looking down at you. “Great choice of company Y/N, hanging with trash like yourself.” He snickered, and JJ pushed him back, “what the hell did you just say about her.” He questioned and Topper pushed JJ. You saw security make there way over with your father and Rafe.

 Once you left with JJ, Rafe had gone to find your father, and update him on the “bad influences” you had been hanging out with. Of course, to your father Rafe was once again the hero, even though he had been making you cry not only ten minutes earlier.

 You pulled on JJ’s sleave, “J please, can we go.” You pleaded not wanting to have this fight out in the open. Before you and JJ had the chance to make a quick getaway you father grabbed you by the arm. “Y/N what are you doing?” He asked in a hush tone pulling you away from JJ before security escorted him out. You looked back at sent JJ and apologetic look and he just winked at you.

 Your father took you home after that and you got the third degree from both he and your mom. “He’s a pouge Y/N/N, you deserve so much more.” You mother said, she wasn’t nearly as upset as your father. “I thought things were going well between you and Rafe, you guys seemed to get along so well.” She questioned. “How do you know what he’s like, you’ve never met him. I was just trying to help him get out before Rafe and his goon squad could cause a bigger scene.” You informed them. “Oh please, had Rafe not come got me, that Maybank’ kid would have started a fight with those boys. I’ve heard the stories Y/N, and I’ve talked to Deputy Shoupe. He’s told me all about his father’s business.”

 Your father was being harsh. You didn’t know much about JJ, but everyone on this island knew about his hot temper. “I don’t want to catch you around that boy again. Do you understand me?” He asked, “yes, I understand you.” You responded trying to put the conversation to rest.

 You stuck to your word, but it really wasn’t that hard. You guys lived on opposite sides of the island and never ran into each other. You had only seen him once at the Wreck and you were too nervous to go talk to him, plus he was just leaving with his friends. You spent a lot of nights thinking about him. You don’t know why he stuck up for you with Rafe that night, but you were glad he had.

 The next time you saw JJ alone was at the beach. You had gone out early in the morning to paint the sunrise. There was a quiet spot on the beach that no one knew of. It was off the beaten path and was always so calm. Art was your way to escape everything and just be in the moment. When you got there, you noticed someone was already there surfing. You couldn’t tell from the shore who it was, but you decided to stay anyways.

 You got yourself all settled and started to sketch the outlines, including the surfer. You had your music playing softly in the background just enjoying being in the moment. You must have zoned out because once you looked back up you noticed the person surfing was coming from the water. You were shocked to recognize JJ’s signature blonde shaggy hair. ‘Of course, it had to be him’ you thought to yourself. You hoped he wouldn’t recognize you, considering the last time he saw you; you were all dressed up for midsummers.

 You went back to your painting, trying to look busy but that didn’t stop him from coming up to you. “Y/N?” He asked even though he knew it was you. “Oh, hi JJ, how are you?” You asked looking up at him. The sun was making a halo around him, and he looked gorgeous. “I’m good, what are you doing out here so early?” He asked, JJ thought he was the only one who knew of this place. “Uh, I’m just trying to get some sketches done. The sun always hits the marsh so nice out here in the morning.” You explained as he dropped his surf bored to sit next to you.

 You moved over so he would have space on the blanket, and he helped himself to some of the fruit your brought with you. “I never think to bring snacks, you have anything else to eat?” He asked, “yeah I have some yogurt and granola in the backpack.” You told him and rummaged through to find it. You didn’t mind him eating it, you weren’t hungry anyways.

 JJ was grateful that you let him eat your food. John B was away and the meant he couldn’t go over there and get food. He had eaten at the Wreck a couple of times, but he could only live off leftover fish and chips for so long. He basically inhaled the yogurt, finally getting a good look at what you were painting. It was the marsh, with him surfing. He didn’t know you were that talented. You guys made small talk while you finished the picture. JJ couldn’t understand why he wanted to be around you, maybe it was the calming effect you had on him.

 Of course, he had seen you around the island before, but he never paid much attention. You were a Kook and by island rules, you were off limits. He knew that at midsummers, but he couldn’t help but step in when Rafe was treated you poorly. “I hope I didn’t get you in trouble at Midsummers.” He spoke up. You hadn’t expected him to bring the conversation up. “Oh, don’t apologize. If anything, I owe you an apology. My dad shouldn’t have had your escorted like some”- “Criminal?” JJ cut in, still a little upset with being kicked out. “yeah, like that.” You said, “if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re a criminal. I mean I don’t really know you, but I don’t get the criminal vibes, y’know?” You spoke causing the both of you to laugh.

 “Is that me in your painting?” He asked looking over your shoulder and you could feel his breath on your skin. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his tan skin on your own. “Uh-yeah it is. But I didn’t know it was you when I started, so does that make it less weird?” You asked, not looking at him. “It’s not weird, I’m flatter that you would include me in your drawing.” He told you and you could sense the honesty in his voice. You finished up some little details before signing it at the bottom with a heart handing it over to the blonde. “Here you can have it. I have too many drawings of this place anyways.” JJ took the drawing and placed it safely in his book bag.

 You both collected your things getting ready to leave. “Maybe we can meet here again?” JJ asked hopeful you would take him up on his offer. “Uh, yeah sure. How about tomorrow?” You suggest, wanting to see him as soon as possible. “Alright, let’s meet here around 8 tomorrow morning.” “Okay.” You say smiling like an idiot before JJ is leaving in his truck.

 It became a ritual between the two of you. Always meeting up there to hang out. It was easier to keep it a secret from everyone. JJ wasn’t worried about the Pouges knowing, but he knew the Kooks would never let you live it down. Of course, you didn’t care about that, but it was your family you worried about. JJ knew the pressure they put on you to be the perfect daughter and it was not easy shoes to fill. It started out innocent, just hanging out talking, you would bring food for JJ, and he would make you forgot about the pressure of being a Kook for a couple of hours.

 You and JJ shared your first kiss there too. It was late one night when you heard something being thrown at your window. You had cancelled plans with JJ because of fight with your father. It was the same argument about not spending enough time with Rafe, and how it reflected badly on him and his business. It didn’t matter to him that Rafe was seeing other girls, he was blind to the Cameron’s ways. When you got up to look out the window you saw JJ standing there waving to you. He was worried when you cancelled because you had never done that before.

 “What are you doing here?” You asked looking out the window. “Come down and see me, I missed you.” He spoke trying not to be too loud. You heart flutter thinking that he missed hanging out with you. You threw on some shoes and ran down the stairs.

 Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

So I sneak out to the garden to see you We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew So close your eyes Escape this town for a little while, oh

 Once you got outside you jumped into JJ arms giggling. The two of you took off to his truck parked down the street. “Where are we going?” You asked curiosity getting the best of you. “To our spot, I figured you need some time away.” He spoke up as he drove. You relaxed into the worn leather of the truck, and JJ was happy that you found comfort in the truck with him. He backed into the beach and the two of you got out into the bed of the truck. He grabbed some blankets from his bed at that chateau before he left and put them down to make a somewhat comfortable spot to lay down.

 The two of you laid looking up at the stars and he started point out constellations in they sky. “And there’s Ursa Major.” He pointed towards the sky, “where I don’t see it?” You spoke sounding frustrated. He took your hand in his and pointed it towards the stars, “that’s the tail those 3 stars there, and then her body and legs.” He guided your hand to point in the direction of where he was talking about. “oh, I see it now!” You exclaimed giggling.

 JJ knew at this moment that he was in love with you. He knew at this exact moment he would do anything for you. He thought that you were the most kind and gentle person he ever met, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He was pulled from his thoughts when you spoke up, “huh?” he blushed realizing you were still holding his hand. “I asked, how do you know were all these constellations are?” JJ wasn’t prepared for this conversation. You didn’t know much about his home life; he never spoke about it so you assumed he would tell you when he was ready. You could sense that he was nervous, and you squeezed his hand in a comforting gesture.

 “uh-my mom used to take me down to the beach when I was kid. We would spend hours looking at the stars and she would show me all of the constellations.” He spoke not looking at you. You watched him, he was biting his lip, a tell tale sign he was nervous. “That sounds wonderful J, it must have been nice.” You spoke softly not sure if he wanted to take the conversation and farther. “She left. I don’t know, I was like in the third grade, I think. I don’t know why, but she never came back. I guess we weren’t enough for her. My dad never forgave himself, or me for it.” He almost whispered the last part, like he didn’t want you to hear.

 You had seen the bruises and asked him about it, but he always blamed it on a run in with the Kooks, but you finally put two and two together. “He’s the one who hurts you isn’t he?” You ask never looking from him. It was a vulnerable conversation to have and you wanted him to know you were there for him. It was the first time he looked over at you since he started talking, and you could see the tears in his eyes. “Yeah, he is. He gets drunk to cope with mom leaving and then starts to yell. It’s the same thing every time, he says I have her eyes. When he’s sobers again, he apologizes but he’s stuck in vicious cycle.” You leaned closer to him resting your head on his shoulder, “one day we’re going to leave this stupid town and find our own place, I promise.” You whispered to him; you weren’t looking at him, but you knew he was smiling.

 JJ looked over at you and leaned down locking his lips onto yours. It was like a dream come true. It was everything he wanted it to be and more. You were feeling the same thing, over the last little while hanging out with JJ you had developed a crush on him but didn’t want him to know scared the feelings wouldn’t be returned.

 You both stayed in each other arms for what felt like hours when he stopped, “what time is it princess?” He asked grabbing your phone looking at the time. That’s when he saw the countless text messages from your parents. “oh shit.” He cursed under his breath. You gave him a confused look. “what? What’s wrong J?” You ask looking at your phone coming to same realization.

 'Cause you were Romeo, I was a scarlet letter And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet" But you were everything to me I was beggin' you, "Please don't go, " and I said

Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes" Romeo, save me, they're tryna tell me how to feel This love is difficult, but it's real Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes" Oh, oh

 The two of you started to get everything packed up texting your parents to tell them you were on your way home. Just as you were climbing back in the truck another set of headlights came into view. It was weird because this was a quite a way from the rest of the island and it was late at night. “Get in the car.” JJ said to you, opening the door. You could sense his nervousness when the car came to stop. “Let’s just go JJ, probably some kids looking for a place to hook up.” You spoke wanting to go home.

 To both of your surprise your father had called Rafe asking if you were with him. When Rafe said that he hadn’t seen you all night he offered to check some of the places you hung out the most. After interrogating some hopeless Pouge, they finally told him that he saw JJ Maybank’s truck head to secluded area of the island. The kid told him that he saw you in the truck with him, and then ran off. Rafe headed towards the south end of the island watching for JJ’s truck. Once he had driven the whole south end of the island, he circled back to Topper’s place to in list his help.

 Topper got into Rafe’s truck pissed off because Rafe had interrupt his date with a girl he had been trying to win over for like a week. “What was so important I had to leave Kate for?” He asked as Rafe pulled out of the driveway. “Y/N’s dad called me and said she snuck out and she’s not answering her phone. You’re going to help me find her.” He explained. Topper was still confused. “Why do you need my help? She’s probably at a friend’s house, did you try calling her? Plus, I thought you were with that girl from the mainland now?” Topper inquired. “Yeah, well I ask around and someone said they saw her hanging out with that low life Maybank and she deserves better.” “Oh well then she’s probably on the old station road, someone told me that his trucks been out there a lot lately.”

 Rafe was fuming with anger. He was sick of you messing around with a pouge making him look bad. He also knew that he wanted to work for her father one day and getting in good with his daughter was a good way to do it. They two men pulled down the road and drove until the saw the familiar truck and watched JJ help you get in the passenger seat. Rafe had texted your father the location and told him it was best he come; this would be a good opportunity to look good in front of him again.

 You recognized the truck as soon as it came to a stop, along with your heart. JJ could tell you were scared by the way you gripped his arm. You gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m so sorry JJ.” You said and he looked at you confused until he saw who was getting out of the truck. He eyes widen at the sight of both Rafe and Topper. JJ protectively pushed you behind him before walking up to Rafe. “What’s going on here?” Rafe asked looking over at you. “Just taking Y/N home, what are you guys doing out so late?” JJ asked in a calm tone not wanting to come off threatening. He just wanted to get you home without out any fights.

 Rafe had other plans on his mind. If he was going to look good in front of your father this was one of his only chances. He gave JJ a shove, “oh yeah? What are you doing with my girl Maybank?” JJ stood his ground before getting up in Rafe’s face too, you went to grab JJ’s arm trying to avoid the fight that was about to break out. “I’m not your girl Rafe. Please JJ can we just go home.” JJ looked down at you, “can you please move your truck Rafe so I can get her home.” He asked through gritted teeth. “No Topper and I’ll take her home. She doesn’t need to be hanging out with some piece of shit from the Cut.” He said his words twisting like a knife in his back.

 JJ was beyond angry at this point, “kiss your mother with that mouth Cameron?” “At least my mom isn’t a runaway like yours.” That was all it took for JJ to punch Rafe square in the face. Rafe stumbled into Topper a bit before launching at JJ. The two broke into a brawl and all that could be heard were their grunts and you screaming for them to stop.

 The next thing you know Topper is pulling JJ off Rafe, and your father is pulling Rafe away. Once Rafe is pulled away you run up to JJ to make sure he is okay, but before you can your father grabs your arm. “I warned you about hanging out with this trash.” He spoke with a tight grip around you arm. You looked over at JJ who was crouched by his truck. “is that what you want? Do you want to be known as trash like these other kids? Do you what he does, what his father does? Do you?” He was shaking your arm and screaming at you. “Ouch dad, you’re hurting me.” You spoke over his yelling. JJ looked over at you, he saw you father shaking your body and he could see the fear in your eyes. “Just let me say goodbye to him, please.” You pleaded with your father, and he reluctantly let you.

 Once you got over to JJ you wrapped your arms around him trying to be careful of his already forming bruises. He wiped the tears off your face with the back of his thumb. “I’m sorry JJ, I should have never let any of this happen.” You whispered, and he cut you off with a quick kiss. “I’m fine princess, just go home with your dad, I don’t want you to get in any more trouble than you are. We’ll figure it out, I promise.” “No JJ, I don’t want to leave you.” “I’m fine, please you’re in enough trouble because of me in the first place.” You finally agreed to go after he promised to text you when he got back the Chateau.

 It had been almost a whole week since everything went down. You almost never talked to your father anymore, and you stayed clear of Rafe and his goon squad. You went down to that spot on the beach everyday, but JJ never showed. He hadn’t texted you that night when he got home even though you blew his phone up with texted and calls. It broke you to think that you might have lost the love of your life all together just because of your selfish father.

 Your parents had gone out for the afternoon and told you that the only person coming by should be the grocery boy. You protested not even wanting to answer the door. You wanted them to just have him leave them outside, but your parents didn’t want to food to spoil so you sat in your foyer staring at the wall waiting for him to come.

 When you finally heard the knock on the door you open it to find Pope Heyward, JJ’s best friend on the other side. “Hi Y/N, your parents want these groceries dropped off, where do you want them?” He asked with a smile on his face. You always liked Pope he was kind and had tutor you in Math freshman year. “Um, in the kitchen is fine.” You spoke and lead him to your kitchen. “I also have some mail.” He handed a letter to you that had your name on it with messy writing. You thanked him and gave him the tip your parents left for him. Going to sit back down in the living room you opened the letter. You quickly looked over it is seeing JJ’s signature at the end with a heart.

 Y/N,

 I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in a few days but my phone broke that night so I couldn’t text you. I didn’t go to our spot because I didn’t want you to be upset when you saw me, I know how you always panic when I’m hurt 😉 I promise I’ll make it up to you. Meet me on the outskirts of town at dusk tomorrow night. ~ JJ <3

 I got tired of waiting Wonderin' if you were ever comin' around My faith in you was fading When I met you on the outskirts of town, and I said

Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone I keep waiting for you, but you never come Is this in my head? I don't know what to think He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring And said, "Marry me, Juliet You'll never have to be alone I love you and that's all I really know I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes" Oh, oh, oh Oh, oh, oh, oh 'Cause we were both young when I first saw you

 You had dressed in a simple white romper with a cardigan considering it was a bit chilly out tonight. You also told your parent that you were staying at friends’ house so they wouldn’t come looking for you. You walked to the outskirts of the island and waited for JJ. You were giving up hope when you saw his truck pull up. He pulled up next to you and got out, and you ran to jump in his arms but suddenly stopped when you saw his face. It was all cut up and he had a nasty black eye. It didn’t take much for the tears to prick your eyes as your thumb smoothed over the freshly formed bruises. “It doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks.” He whispered to you, catching a few stray tears with his thumb.

 “I’m so sorry J. I hate that he let them do this to you.” You said holding his face in your hands looking up at him. You could get lost in his beautiful blue eyes any day. They brought you such calm and love. JJ portrayed all his emotions in his eyes and that’s why you feel in love with them. “I tried talking to your dad, but he wouldn’t listen to me.” He said and you were shocked. No guy had ever done something like that for you. The only time a guy ever talked to your dad was for their own benefit much like Rafe did. “I don’t care what he thinks JJ. I want to be with you, and only you. You’ve made me the happiest person in the world.” You said to him, kissing him. “We’ll figure something out, you promised. I don’t care if we must keep sneaking around together. He’ll see it eventually.” You reasoned with him, the tears you were trying to hold freely falling now.

 JJ hated seeing you like this. He couldn’t tear you away from your family, but he also knew that he didn’t want to try and live another day without you. He didn’t know how it was going to work but he would do what ever it took. “the two of us can jump in this truck right now and go wherever we want to go.” You said to him. “We could go for the summer, it’ll be fine. I have so money saved and we can get jobs on the mainland. Somewhere away from the Outer Banks.” You proposed hoping he would take your bait.

  He thought about it for a minute. He did know some guys that were looking for help on the mainland with construction and maybe it would give your parents some time to adjust to things. “Okay, let’s go get your stuff.” The two of you went back to your house leaving a note explaining everything and bought the first tickets off the island never looking back. It really was a love story.

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@taylathornton​ @lemur46​ @drewstarkeysbitchh​

[admiringlove]

doubt

+pairing: tsukishima kei x reader

+synopsis:  tsukki, the boy you’re desperately in love with. the boy who holds your hand softly as the two of you walk home together from school. the only question is, does the boy love you back just as much as you love him?

+genre: angst; fluff.

+word count: 1.6k

+warnings: none.

+author’s notes: this is an older fic, please note that my writing style has gotten better and i am producing newer fics that are better than this one. not that this fic is necessarily bad(it’s good i hope) but just my style has improved much more.

— request.

HIYA! I saw the request were open so I just wanted a full angsty Tsukki imagine. Do anything you want, I want that ANGST :DD

You and Tsukki had been dating for the past few months. Yamaguchi, being the neutral friend of the group, would always come to the rescue if the two of you had a fight or need help in talking to one another.

However, tonight was different. The dusk comes as a promise of starlight, of those eminent pearls of the twilight that sit as if cushioned upon pure black velvet. The heat of the day has ebbed to a soothing warmth. The sunshine has lost its luster, and the colors of the atmosphere are softened.

You, a teenager who had just gotten a 76-percent in Physics, was itching to find some comfort. You had pulled countless all-nighters for these exams. You had stayed up so many nights studying the reflecting rays and the incident rays and the formulas that you were just disappointed in yourself. You were in a bad mood already; expecting some calming words from Tadashi or Kei, you walk towards the volleyball gymnasium to find Tsukki, who looked so concentrated on the practice match being played.

The boys were practicing in so much perspiration and purpose, that you felt like simply watching them excel from afar. You sighed as Sugawara and Daichi greeted you before ending practice ten minutes earlier than usual, as everyone seemed drained. You waited patiently as the boys went to get changed, Hinata giving you a high-five and complimenting you before leaving.

"I'll walk you home after changing, will you wait for me?" Kei says as he picks up his bag and slings it over his shoulder. You nod, "Sure thing, Kei."

The blond walks over to the club room with everyone else, and you notice that Kei had left a shirt in the gym.

You headed to pick up Tsukishima's shirt that he had left behind. And as you headed up the stairs of the club room, you could overhear Tsukishima and Yamaguchi talking.

Talking about... you?

"Tsukki, shush. They're your [S/O]," Yamaguchi mumbles with paranoia evident in his tone. Tsukishima scoffs halfheartedly, looking away. He rolls his amber eyes in ignorance and continues, "They lied saying they studied for the Physics exam. Why would they want to lie about studying? It's them that got the lowest grade of the class, not me."

You hide next to the half-open door—heart breaking into pieces as you hear Tsukki say those words—and Yamaguchi gasps slightly when he sees you. You gesture him to keep quiet as you wanted to hear what Kei had to say about you. Truth is, you felt as if he was slowly falling out of love with you. He never gave you any song recommendations anymore, he never walked home with you, he never even bothered to talk to you, which was what pained you even more.

“Tsukishima, why would you say that about your own partner?” Suga asked to lighten the mood a little, but Tsukishima only replied, “I don’t like it when people lie to me.”

And then, the boy continued. 

"It's annoying to even be with them, at this point. They're clingy, and—"

You clutch the shirt in your palm tightly, walking away. You didn't want to hear anymore. Rapidly blinking to stop the tears brimming at the corner of your eyes, you sped up your pace. Your shoulders dropped in resignation as you tightened your chapped lips in a straight line. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, as you grabbed your backpack and began the walk towards your home. What could you do, anyway? Beg him to stay with you a little longer? Obviously not, that would make you look desperate.

But what could you do, anyway? You didn't want to admit it, but you were desperate. You were desperately in love with the sarcastic remarks, the signature smirk, the teasing eyes, the nonchalant "good morning, [Y/N]-chan", the recommendations of songs that would blow your mind, the sweet midnight trips to your house just because he was bored, the small lingering kisses that would make you want more, and what else? There was so much about Tsukishima Kei that you were in love with. You couldn't put it into words even if you tried. You imagined a future with him even though the two of you were high-school freshmen.

You were alone, walking the empty streets as tears welled up from deep inside your heart and coursed down your cheeks. Like a warm waterfall in the middle of autumn. You were being killed by your own unruly thoughts that were getting the best of you. How was he going to break up with you? Was this it? Was he simply never going to talk to you again?

You finally got home, shrugging your mother off saying that you weren't in the mood for dinner as you wiped your tears and ran up the stairs.

You avoided Tsukishima for the whole week. After all, what good does a clingy [S/O] do other than annoying their partner?

"[Y/N]!" you hear Tadashi's voice echo through the corridor just as you're about to leave. You stayed behind for a couple of extra minutes because you liked the soothing silence your school provided. The bell ringing, the leaves of the trees rustling, the smell of books and chalk, the nostalgic feeling overwhelming you of memories buried deep.

The school was a safe place without anyone around.

"Ah, Tadashi!" you grinned, you grabbed your belongings and rushed over to the boy, greeting him once again. He rubs the back of his neck nervously as he asks, "You haven't talked to Tsukki all week, have you?"

"Oh, I haven't? I didn't notice," you chuckle nervously, obviously knowing that Yamaguchi was concerned about you since the day he had seen you overhear his conversation.

What you didn't know, was that Tsukishima was standing merely five feet away, hidden inside a classroom. He was quizzically standing there, not moving an inch so he could hear what you had to say. Did you want to break up with him? Was that why you hadn't initiated a single conversation with him? Was that why you would leave your home earlier than usual so you could walk without him? Was that why you wouldn't even bother to look at his message(even though he had only tried to contact you twice—one text, and one call)?

"[Y/N], I know you heard when Tsukki complained about your grade in the Physics exam," Tadashi grimaced, gritting his teeth as he tried to look away from you. You widened your eyes as you tried to find a suitable explanation that would fix the problem in front of you.

Tsukishima, on the other hand, was shocked. He didn’t know you were there that day. His hands were in his hair as he slowly sunk to his knees. His breathing becoming more rigid, more uneven as his mind went frantic. You had heard him call you clingy. You had heard him openly criticize you in front of the whole team. You had heard him say such mean things about you.

He couldn't fathom what you were feeling.

"It's not like I care about Physics anyway," you giggle, trying to lighten the mood, "Even if I got a low score, I still passed."

"Can you not joke around?" Yamaguchi asked in a deadpan tone that made you get goosebumps. You sighed, looking at him right in the eye, and claimed, "The other option is I cry and face my overwhelming sadness that my own boyfriend called me clingy and dumb even though I try so hard to be a person he deserves, so no."

To say that Tadashi was taken aback, was an understatement. You smiled as you let out a dry chuckle, and walked away.

That night, Tsukishima Kei was the one crying himself to sleep.

"Good morning, [Y/N]-chan," you heard an all-too-familiar voice behind you as you walked out to buy groceries. You stopped in your tracks, [E/C] eyes widening as you let out an unintentional hum.

"Can we talk?" he asked. You turned around hesitantly to see that his features no longer displayed the desultory expression he used to display. His forbearance was dying by the passing minute—he was worried as he stepped toward you, but stopped as he witnessed you take a step back.

His amber eyes searched for some comfort in yours, but he couldn't find himself to look at your face—as if your hurt expression would break him down even more. He never meant to hurt you with his snarky laid-back words. He didn't even mean most of them.

"I'm sorry if I have been a clingy or annoying [S/O], Tsukishima," you mumble, kicking a pebble lightly. It doesn't even pain you to say it anymore—your voice is calm and emollient as if you didn't mind saying these words. He grimaced at the fact that you didn’t call him “Kei” as his guilt uproared even more. 

Your tone caused him to wince as he looked up at your face. There was no sign of apathy, like your tone. Instead, your eyes were shut tightly, as if you were trying to stop yourself from having a breakdown right there. He stepped closer to you, hoping that you wouldn't walk away this time, as he placed a palm on your head—gently fiddling with the strands of your [H/C] hair. His touch is like embrocation; the sudden relief of all pain cast inside has been let out along with a single tear taking its course on your cheek.

Your furtive façade breaking down slowly as he held you in his long, yet firm arms. You were like a gossamer—so delicate, that Kei was scared he'd break you.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things about you. I shouldn’t have ignored you," he mumbled into your hair as he embraced you tightly. You shook your head in disagreement as you muffled out a reply, "I was the one that didn't do well. It's my fault."

"You did your best," he mused. You hummed indulgently, as he held your hand in his, "I'm walking you to wherever you're headed."

"You don't even know where I'm going," you chuckled out, as the boy smiled down at you, "So? I meant it when I said I’d follow you anywhere when we began dating.”

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[nissakii]

Wedding Deal - Chapter 01 [Iwaizumi x Reader]

This is the story of how I traded freedom by becoming his fake wife”

– Y/N

Tip: If you are using Chrome there is a little add-on called InteractiveFics with that the story is much more vivid since Y/N will be replaced with the name you type in. Give it a try you won’t regret it~

Also if you want to read the stories early, they appear much earlier on our blog: nissakii.com, for those of you who like to read ahead since we don't upload on tumblr the exact time of the release.

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If there was one thing I hated the most, it was those banquets they held and princesses of each province having to attend. Even the ones that weren't supposed to become heirs or weren't of any importance like me.

I am the 3rd daughter and therefore I wasn’t necessarily needed at this event, yet the only comfort I had were one girl to my left and other to my right as both of them unlike me who was watched by my mother strictly, stretched out their legs in a very unlady-like way while one of them chewed curiously on one cupcake that seemed to be from another province.

"Do you guys get privileged food like that, oh wow I never saw something like that!", the one almost two years older than me said while taking another bite and leaning back before stretching straight and being reminded that this was an official meeting as she nudged her cousin to do the same.

"Hiyori, sit straight, and don't glare, you know our family will scold us if they take any photos!", Chiaki said while adjusting her dress that slipped away a bit on her chest and legs.

"So what? I don't care. We are not even royals or nobles unlike Y/N whose mother is going to devour her if she doesn't sit like a jerk- '', she was cut off.

"No cussing!", Chiaki shoved the weird cupcake into Hiyori's mouth and adjusted her dress in her stead.

I sighed deeply, "how many times do I have to tell you guys, I am just a princess by name, I am not important. Also Chiaki sometimes you behave more like a princess than I do, don't talk yourself down", and I regretted immediately saying that as she had that smile on her face while her eyes wanted to wring my neck.

"Ah must be nice to be a royal saying such things huh? Unlike us pebbles who were invited by your generosity", some men were staring at us and I felt uncomfortable.

"Yeah, nice to be a rich kid, huh. If I were you I would have bought all these shoes, girl and left them in debt. Wait you are a pebble, I am not one", Hiyori wiped her face and stared at her shoes, "I gotta get some new ones though."

"You got some this week", her cousin still smiled and even the men probably felt her annoyed vein popping from that mischievous grin.

"And?", was the cue that pulled the last string before I caught Chiaki in my arms in order to avoid her from choking her own cousin.

"Y/N let go", she muttered and despite that I sometimes feared her, this time it felt like I was holding a child, thank goodness I was sitting in the midst.

"Okay, Timeout prince number five just entered. Guess he is late", Hiyori pointed at a man with spiky hair, clothes in a navy blue suit with gold accents, black gloves and shoes as his gaze swept around the room before I felt Chiaki shift in my arms making herself comfy on me instead of backing off as she and her cousin analysed the guy.

"Who is he?", the one in my arms asked and Hiyori was much quicker than me answering.

"He is from the province of Aoba Johsai, 2nd Prince Iwaizumi Hajime. Despite that he hates events like this everyone needs to attend them. I heard the first prince already arrived too. But Johsai is really far away. Heard he came to find a suitor on his mother's behalf but shoved off marrying for years now", both of us stared at her and she shrugged.

"Okay I am the rich kid but how-"

"I got my ressources girl", she winked and stuck out her tongue as Chiaki shoved in a snack for her to eat casually.

"Our parents will kill us", Chiaki muttered and I nodded as Hiyori shrugged.

"I already had to attend the other event so I can roam around", but the freedom didn't last long before a tall and well-built guy blocked our guy with a stoic face and olive-colored hair he stretched out his hand like it was taught in etiquette class and asked Hiyori for a dance.

Chiaki immediately sat up like she was supposed to and we saw how Hiyori ignored the man at first.

"Lady, I may have not asked in a proper way but I want to take your next dance", the already deep voice of prince Ushijima had a slightly rough and strained undertone.

"Fine", she said after letting him stand for some minutes and took his hand as she whispered, "he thinks I am a lady pfft guess he doesn't know I am a commoner girl, let me teach that rich boy a lesson."

"And there she goes", Chiaki muttered and sighed worried about her cousin, "I guess she will be the one who gets a lesson, she got Ushijima of all people."

"What are you gonna do if they find out you are not royalty?", I asked not having thought this through when I invited them, my mother doesn't know that I befriended commoners yet she didn't ask for their rank this time.

"I guess I will ditch Hiyori and scram. The food is weird anyways and the people are super stiff, like look at that brunette guy he looks like he would kill someone in this room any time soon", she laughed.

"So you are a commoner", another deep voice let my heart drop to my feet and my guts twist as I held my breath, I didn't look up but a shadow was looming over us before I saw black shoes in front of me.

As my gaze wandered from the navy blue suit to a pair of olive-eyes my hands started sweating and I couldn't bring out a word as I saw the 2nd prince of Aoba Johsai leaning down right in front of me.

"W-Who?", I could only bring out and look away.

"Not you, I know you from other events, Princess Y/N but", his eyes wandered to the girl next to me as he fixed her and she smiled widely, if anyone else looked at her you would think she was not having a single problem.

"Me?", she asked in a friendly tone, one leg over the other.

"Yes. The one who called the first prince stiff and a murder", his gaze turned into a slight glare before I acted out of fear standing up and taking his arm as he looked at me surprised.

"M-May I dance with you Prince Hajime?", I stuttered my face red yet I feared if Chiaki was caught being a commoner and badmouthing the first prince that she wouldn't be simply lectured, no, worse....

"W-Wait, but-" as we turned around she was gone and the last thing I saw was that someone followed her into the crowd and I wanted to do the same before I felt a strong grip on my hand.

"Didn't you want to dance?", the man with a rough voice and the olive-eyes fixed on me didn't let go.

"U-Uhm-"

"Or did you want to trick me into one to shield your friend?", he tilted his head with slight disappointment on his face.

Okay Y/N... you have to keep calm, one dance it takes one dance and a bit of social distraction for him to let it go…

I tried to smile a bit concerned and nodded.

"I wanted to dance with you, yet I was afraid you would deny my wish since I asked you... it's against etiquette rules to ask the man to dance so-", he scratched his head with his other hand while not letting go of me.

"Well, if you wanted to dance, I don't see a problem nor would I tell anyone about something as strict as etiquette rules. I ever wondered if women actually liked to get asked out for a dance...", he muttered a slight shade of rose on his cheek while he stared intently.

I was also flustered by his honest answer.

"I-uh... I guess it is nice sometimes...but it feels also... unfair...", my gaze wandered to my mother who glared at me and signed for me to grasp myself and not slouch which I did.

"Even you", his eyes followed mine to my mother,"I guess we should make this a good one, and enjoy it while we can", he understood immediately and as he looked back there was a slight grin on his face.

"Just to tell you I am not much of a dancer unlike what rumors say about Hajime Iwaizumi", he muttered.

I laughed a bit and positioned myself as he held out his hand, "I guess it makes it much easier for me to easen up then."

[fieldsofmoonshine]

Remember Me

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Warning: funeral, cancer, death

Notes: this is kinda sad boi hour, elijah spends the day remembering you after you’ve died kinda thing

Word Count: 2064

Elijah leaned against the doorway, watching as you were listening to music loudly in your earphones while putting on makeup. Your mouth as slightly opened as you focused on applying your mascara, flinching every time you brought the tip closer to your eye.

The bright yellow sundress you had picked out for the day still hung on the wardrobe door as Elijah woke up, the suit he was wearing had for a second left red indentations on his skin which healed as he stood up. His eyes stopped at the dress, a sudden wave of feelings weighing down over his chest, knowing that you’d never get to wear it again.

Elijah walked over to the dress his hand bunching the fabric tightly in his hand while he smelled it, closing his eyes as he could recognize your perfume still present in the fabric.

You were sitting in a bench, leaning your head back to look at the sky, the sky was painted in a strong red burn mixed with the white and pink clouds it looked like a painting. Elijah was sitting beside you, one hand thrown around your neck like a pillow while he looked at you, smiling at your amazement at the sky.

“Don’t you two look disgustingly happy,” Klaus strolled into the courtyard with a grin as he watched you two. “Never seen a sky before Y/N?”

“Fuck off,” you answered, not even looking at him.

“I think you’re adorable,” Elijah stated and leaned down to place a kiss against your now blushing cheek.

“Fuck off,” you repeated, this time a mumble as you looked at Elijah.

“I’d prefer not,” he answered. “You could come with me.”

“As I said, disgusting,” Klaus muttered as he watched you blush deeper but answered with a yes, following him up to his room. “At least lock the door this time!”

“Elijah?” Freya knocked on his door, she sounded hesitant, saddened as she waited for a few seconds before opening the door. “Are you coming?”

“This is what she wanted,” Elijah told Freya absently while keeping his eyes on your dress. “The party, the people, down to every little pebble... I want to honor her wish— but all I truly want is to stay right here and bury myself in her dresses and shirts and every stupid little thing she left here.”

“We miss her too, and honestly I’m pretty sure none of us wants to celebrate her death,” Freya stepped inside and placed a arm around Elijah’s shoulder, which he didn’t even react to. “But she told us— very clearly— that we can cry and be miserable at any time but not today, she wanted us to remember her as she was—“

“Happy, fearless, smoking a cigarette while looking at the man she loved after a good round in the hay,” Elijah continued and chuckled slightly. “I don’t want to forget it, that feeling of being loved by her... it’s something extraordinary about it, like you’re drowning and she just pulls you up and you never want to be without her again, yet here I am.”

“Come on, if we leave now I won’t tell Nik you’re wearing the same suit as yesterday,” Freya teased him, noticing the small tug of his lips as he nodded wrapping an arm around Freya’s waist. “He’s been drinking, I never thought they were that close.”

“Niklaus has a funny way of showing he cares, with her I guess it was by endlessly mocking her,” Elijah looked down the hall with a frown. “You know, he fought harder about treatment with her than I did, he said something about making sure she’d be Izzie Stevens. How she’d managed to get him to watch Grey’s Anatomy I never understood.”

Freya chuckled lightly and stroked his arm as Elijah let go of her. “One day, Elijah, than we’ll mourn.”

Elijah sat beside you, looking at the wall above the doctors head, scanning some of the documents. You had been in for a regular check up and mentioned some recurring headaches after a fall down the stairs, (which was actually you ending up in the crossfire of some vampires arguing), and after some testing and scans you had been told to call someone, if you needed it. And you called Elijah, thinking it’d be something like a concussion and you’d need a ride, but no instead you two had been taken to meet an oncologist.

“How long do I have?” Elijah was torn from his focus on the wall. “It’s bad right? You have that look in your eye, like she’s only started her life and now she’ll die, so how long? Five years?” The doctor was about to answer but you cut her off again. “It’s shorter, right? Three? Two? Do I even have one?”

“With treatment, statistics give you a year, some live five but—“

“I am dying, anyways?” You filled in, getting a nod in response. “What’s the treatment?”

“We start with surgery, then chemotherapy and you’ll have to take medication,” you looked over at Elijah who had placed his hand on yours squeezing tightly, you imagined he wasn’t really listening anymore either. Vampires, werewolves, witches, hybrids, ex’s. Somehow you two had been through it all together yet neither of you had thought of this, a glioblastoma. A brain tumor.

“And this will give me, a year?” You asked.

“Some get more some less.”

“My grandmother died from cancer, when I was 15,” you leaned back slightly. “The last thing I told her was that she looked sick, and she answered that she was and that she’d wished she had rejected the treatment because she would die anyways. All she wanted was a little more time— I’ve had time and if I get a year where I can’t really live, I’d rather go sooner.”

“Perhaps you two should take some time to discuss—“

“No,” you answered, squeezing Elijah’s hand to get his attention back to where it belonged. “I’ve decided. Do I need to sign something?”

“Yes, a few papers...”

Klaus had saved seats for Elijah and Freya at the front, looking as miserable as Elijah felt even though Klaus had clearly attempted to clean up for the moment. People were chattering amongst themselves while waiting for the priest.

“I can’t believe she chose a service after all,” Klaus muttered and looked at Elijah who shrugged.

“It’s for appearances, she said something about wanting to be the talk of the town and all her friends and family who hadn’t spoken to her since she moved away from Mystic Falls,” Elijah told him and nodded towards the cluster of Mystic Falls residents sitting on the other side of the church. “She wanted to for once outshine Elena Gilbert and her main character aura.”

Klaus chuckled slightly and looked towards your coffin and shook his head. “I loved her, even though I never told her or you— she was the girl who always saw me as family and the only one I will ever approve for you.”

“She loved you too, that she did tell me,” Elijah informed him and a fond smile spread over his lips. “Sometimes she’d say that had you only been a brunette I’d have a run for my money.”

“I knew she had a thing for brunettes!” Klaus smiled as he looked over at his brother. “Brunettes, suits, and impeccable taste in wine...”

“The ideal man,” Elijah sighed. “I—“

The sound of people talking stopped as a priest walked up to the middle of the church and looked out over the people.

“Today, we have gathered here not to mourn, but to celebrate and honor the life of Y/N Y/L/N...”

You ran down the stairs while holding your hand over your mouth, Klaus and Freya both looked at you as you passed them before making it to the bathroom. The sound of you hulking over the toilet followed only seconds later.

“Y/N?” Freya came after you and gathered your hair in her hands, rubbing your back soothingly. “Should we call Elijah?”

“No, no,” you dismissed her and felt the tears gather in your eyes. “I sent him on Hope duty, he needed some distraction.”

“Do you need painkillers? It’s your cramps right?” Klaus asked from outside, already holding the pills in his hand.

“No, it’s not,” you answered and looked away from the toilet while flushing, the tears were starting to run down your face as you grabbed paper to wipe around your mouth. “I’m sick...” they both nodded, thinking you were getting the flu or a stomach virus. “Cancer, I’ve got cancer,” Klaus stared at you while Freya stopped moving, her hand slowly falling from your back. “Brain cancer actually, which is kinda ironic seeing as we always say I don’t have one.”

“How long?” Klaus asked as he lowered his hand to his side.

“Have I known or how long?” You asked but got no answer as he only looked at you. “Elijah and I were at the hospital two weeks ago, and three to twelve months. Maybe more maybe less...”

“And the treatment, how have you been hiding it?” Klaus asked as you stood up from the bathroom floor and sat down on the toilet with a hesitant frown. “You’re not? You’re not getting treatment?”

“No, it’d would give me a few months in best case but I’ve seen what happens when on chemo, I won’t live a few extra months only to be around,” you told him and felt your heart drop as Klaus only walked away, throwing the painkillers on the ground as he did so.

Damon Salvatore might be the most annoying person on this earth, Elijah thought as he sat in a corner of the room decorated for a party and some were enjoying it to the fullest, like Damon Salvatore. Why Elijah hadn’t killed him? No idea, he should’ve, Elijah thought, back when he had the chance and reason to. Elijah diverted his eyes to the scene where a band was playing as Caroline climbed onto the stage, holding a white letter in her hand.

“Hello, I know most of you don’t know me but my name’s Caroline, I grew up with Y/N and well she was an amazing person,” Caroline smiled nervously as she looked around. “We hadn’t talked in a while when she got sick but when she did she asked me to do something for her, so I am, she asked me to play a recording tonight, so yeah, here it is.”

A click came from the speakers as Caroline connected her phone to them before your voice started streaming from it.

“Hello? I think this is working, it should be. I just wanted to let you all know that I love you, even Klaus, and I want to take one last chance to remind myself,” you cleared your throat, and when you spoke again it was clear you were crying. “remind myself, and everyone else, that being loved in a way that I’ve been by all of you— and mostly Elijah, is something I will never be able to express how thankful I am... so yeah, that’s all, I love you.”

“Dance with me,” you grabbed Elijah’s hand and pulled him of the couch with a smile. Elijah didn’t want to, you knew he didn’t want to but you wanted to, you needed to. Somewhere in the back of your head you knew you wouldn’t get to dance with him next week at the anniversary party you had planned. “I love you.”

“Stop,” Elijah whispered against your ear. “You don’t get to say that yet.”

“I just want you to know that,” you answered, he and you both knew it was more than that. “And you need to know—“

“I don’t need to know anything,” Elijah cut you off. “Not yet, it’s been three months. Not a year.”

“I love you, and when I’m gone, you get to move on,” you stated and swallowed the tears from your voice. “Because you I love you, and you me. You get to move on.”

Elijah didn’t answer, he only stopped dancing and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. You felt the first tear drop from his eyes on your head and with a gentle smile you looked up at him, kissing his cheek.

“I love you.”

[domesticmail]

scrapes

pairing: jj maybank x reader

word count: fuck if i know lmao

requested: nope!

summary: idk how i’d explain this one. reader is frustrated that the pogues keep treating her like a baby, so she takes things into her own hands, and when she gets hurt, things come to a head in the kitchen of The Chateau

warnings: ANGST. cursing, blood, and ANGST BABY ANGST

a/n: starts quick, gets sad/angry, ends content and kinda happy! also for reference the Pogues are all 17 and the reader is 16 here!! might make this a multiple part fic, who knows !!

Your feet hit the ground, rubber soles slamming against pavement. Broken pieces of road and rubble crunch under your feet. The sound of pebbles cracking under your weight is lost in the commotion of noises, your heart throwing itself against your ribcage, the friction of your hand sliding against a wall, cold air blowing in and out of your lungs.

Splinters embed in your skin as you scramble up the fence, wood cutting into the meat of your thigh. As your body hits the dirt, you swear you can feel the wound opening, blood painting the ground. A ringing fills your ears, but there’s not room in your schedule today to worry about that - you’re on a bit of a time constraint here, if you hadn’t noticed. With that in your mind, the panic of falling behind floods your veins, and you’re up again, sneakers throwing dirt and rocks in your wake as you high-tail it away from your bad decision.

Shouts come from behind you, telling you to stop, but clearly they haven’t gotten the message: you’re not sticking around. You round the corner and haul ass down a few twists and turns before finding your final destination, a friend’s house. You burst through the front entrance and slam it shut, leaning back against the front door, chest heaving.

John B. raises an eyebrow at you. “Woah. Hey, Y/N.”

You don’t respond - you’re busy doing that mental-checklist thing you always do.

Shoes? Ratty old converse, several years old, scuffed on the sides - but they were like that before. Check.

Cut on your leg? Not too big, hurts like a bitch, though. Can be fixed with a towel, rubbing alcohol, and some pressure. Check.

Any other cuts? Some splinters in your palms, yes, but nothing else major. Thank fuck.

A pat of your back pocket reveals that your wallet is still there, secure. Your earrings - still there. Phew. Necklace didn’t break or fall off when you hopped the fence? It’s still dangling around your neck, holy shit. Check. 

Aside from the cut and some flecks of dirt dug into the arm you landed on, you’re in remarkably good shape for someone running from hired security.

You shoot a grin at John B., who’s now been joined in his confusion by the rest of the group: Kie and Sarah looking worried, Pope looking exasperated and mildly concerned, and JJ looking very, very confused. Walking past them to the kitchen, you start rooting around for supplies to clean up your leg. Nobody’s said anything yet, and you know why. It’s not common for you to come home like this, out of breath, roughed up a little, bleeding. You can feel them holding their tongues, waiting for you to explain.

The silence stretches into uncomfortable territory. You’re too busy trying to fix your cut to care, really. You know what comes next, anyway - you’ve seen them do it to JJ about a thousand times. The quiet, palpable tension of concern, and then the inevitable eruption.

Just as you expect, as soon as you hop up on the counter and begin your at-home wound treatment, showing no signs of speaking first, everyone explodes at once.

John B. “So no explanation? You’re just gonna walk in here like this is normal?”

Kie. “What the hell, Y/N? We didn’t know where you were! You could’ve died!”

Pope. “That’s a huge cut, what is wrong with you? What were you doing that was so stupid you got a cut like that?”

Sarah. “We were so worried! You weren’t picking up! Are you okay?”

And, of course, JJ. “Who did this to you?”

You’re applying pressure to your leg (fuck, fuck, ow, fuck, shit, bitch, motherfucker no thank you, ow), listening to your friends voice their concerns, when something hits you - JJ thinks someone hurt you?

More importantly, why is JJ so angry about it?

You’d been expecting him to be the least concerned, to give you a high five or a compliment or at least a proud grin, but no, you’re facing anger, frustration, radiating off of him. This is unprecedented - you never thought you guys were close like that.

Don’t get it wrong, you’re close with all the Pogues, just as family as the rest of them - JJ just isn’t really your person. You tend to be glued to Sarah and Kie at the hips, tagging along with them when it’s not a whole-group outing, so their worry makes sense. (You usually tell them everything, like sisters, but a two-day long excursion to do some very reckless shit hadn’t felt like something you should tell them. They’d just try to convince you not to go, and you were having none of that, two mornings ago.) But JJ? If anything, you were each other’s least favorite Pogues. The youngest and maybe the most reckless of the group (excluding Pope), you’re typically the one who reminds JJ of all the stuff that can go wrong with his ideas and schemes. You would think he’d be glad to see you get into a bit of trouble.

But there he is, jaw clenched, those eyes fixed directly on yours. His neck’s gone all tight (you’ve been around him long enough to know that only happens when he’s angry; it’s a little endearing, actually, a little cute), the hand not placed protectively on your knee clenching into a fist laid on the counter. And there’s something in that touch, the way he’s got his hand on your knee - there’s affection there, emotion, something you’ve never felt from JJ before.

All of a sudden, it’s like the greatest hyperfixation in the world is JJ’s hands. They’re not soft, necessarily, not the type of hand you want to hold just because it feels like it’s gentle and kind. Maybe that’s why you’re so drawn to this weird, unexpected touch. You can feel the callouses on his palm pressing into the pink, scraped (oh, you missed a spot in your checklist, your knees look wrecked from that fall over the fence; probably shouldn’t do that again) flesh of your knee, the pads of his fingertips pulling your attention away from the group and to him.

To put it lightly: it’s a very intimate three seconds.

You want to disappear for a second, want to vanish in a puff of smoke and not exist, because the intensity with which he’s looking at you is scary. Not like you’ve done something wrong, but like whoever he thinks did this to you is going to pay, and pay a hefty fee at that.

You don’t like it. Not at all. You would do anything - anything - for him to never look at you like that. Like he’s going to kill someone.

“What - Nobody did this to me, JJ,” you scoff, matching his intense gaze with an annoyed look. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “You’re covering up for them. What did they say they’d do to you? I’ll do worse to them, Y/N, I swear, just tell me who did it.”

You scowl at him, scooting over to move your knee from his hand. This isn’t about you and JJ - this is about you wanting to prove yourself. This is about you showing them you’re not a baby. That you can handle yourself. Not that you need JJ to get all weird and protective over you. “I did this, JJ, back off. I don’t need you to be weird about it.”

The rest of the group has been quiet, but John B. pipes up. “He’s not being weird about anything. We were all worried.”

“I don’t need you guys to be worried about me. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fucking fine, you have a fucking cut on your leg - “

“I’m fine, JJ - “

“If you were okay you wouldn’t be fucking bleeding, Y/N - “

“Will you stop acting like I’m a child for two seconds? Nobody did this, it wasn’t Topper or Rafe or - “

It’s like a lightbulb goes on in JJ’s head. “It was Rafe, wasn’t it? I’ll fucking kill him, he has no right to put his hands on you - “

“JJ, shut the fuck up!”

He looks at you in stunned silence, leaning back a little as though your words had physically struck him. 

You’re fuming now, blood running hot. This is exactly why you didn’t tell them your plan - they’d start with this shit. The constant babying. You understand, they’re seventeen, you’re sixteen, you’re younger and they want to protect you, but jesus christ, it’s not like they had some worldly experience - they’re seventeen years old, for fuck’s sake. “Don’t use my actions as a reason for you to go beat up Rafe, JJ. I’m not a fucking excuse for you to get in a fight. I did this for a reason, so how about you leave me alone and let me get to it instead of acting like I’m a fucking child?”

Everyone is silent.

The group looks actually stunned, like they’ve all been sucker-punched. Where the hell did this come from? You’ve never yelled like that. You’ve never yelled, period. You’re never the angry one - you’re the quiet one, the one who would rather be helping at The Wreck or on the HMS Pogue than be at the Boneyard at a kegger. 

JJ, after the initial shock, looks even angrier now. He pulls away from you and storms off, running a hand through his blond hair. The sound of his shoes on the hardwood floor echoes through The Chateau, and you sit on the counter quietly, tears filling your eyes.

Not tears of sadness, though. You’re not sad.

You’re fucking angry. At all of them. For bringing you here. For pushing you to this point. For making you feel like a child. 

“You treat me like a kid,” you say quietly, but with force, scowling at your tears.

Sarah’s the first to approach, wrapping her arms around you softly. You want to push her away, to refuse the affection, but you don’t. You just accept the distance, reluctantly hugging her, resting your head on her shoulder and just breathing, breathing, breathing. Maybe the tears’ll go away if you just breathe.

Pope is the next, not Kie. (She’s still surprised that you yelled. The indignation of being yelled at is fading, her initial annoyance becoming gentle concern.) He envelops you and Sarah.

Kie joins next, and then John B., and it’s when you feel his hand on your back that your breathing, breathing, breathing, becomes choked sob after choked sob, cries wracking your body into Sarah’s shoulder. You feel like you’re breaking down into them all, like the anger is pouring out of you like a waterfall, just gushing and gushing and gushing. It’s so frustrating, so difficult, so annoying, you just can’t deal with it anymore.

You don’t know how long you’ve been crying when your sobs recede their way to gentle hiccups. Your face is dry from the tears, and when everyone pulls away, you see tears in Sarah’s eyes. She offers you a weak smile, one you return.

There’s a conversation then, right there in the kitchen. It’s not one full of anger, or sadness, or anything especially negative. It’s just tired. The words float out of your mouth - “I’m sorry” - and it’s like you’re disconnected from yourself. It lasts maybe twenty minutes, apologizing from all ends, promises to do better, and at the end, you feel so full of love that you’re nearly bursting at the seams. We’re family, we love each other, you could’ve just told us if we were being frustrating, reassurances floating their way through your head like water, pushing out all the anger. 

You don’t know how you ended up on the hammock with the rest of the group - excluding JJ - one arm thrown across John B., snuggled in with Pope, legs resting on Sarah and Kie’s, who are laying together the opposite way. The warmth of the sun on your arms and your friends around you is lulling you to sleep slowly, the hammock swinging gently from side to side.

You know you’re going to have to talk to JJ.

But you’re falling asleep now, and you’re losing your train of thought quickly, words floating into oblivion.

You’ll talk to JJ tomorrow.

For now, you’re going to sleep.

[whereflowersbloom]

Hypermarket adventure

When Tim Drake woke up that morning he had no idea he would have to buy a new coffee maker because the one they had was unusually broken. Damian Wayne. A faint headache pounding behind his temples as Tim massaged them, exhaustion sinking deep in his bones, and wonders how long it's been since he had more than four hours of sleep. Damian was responsible for this, one of his secret schemes to make him stop consuming caffeine. Tim was sure it was his fault, so the broken coffee maker refused to give him the fluid of life and he had lost it...and maybe Tim destroyed it with vicious vengeance. In his defense, he had been up for more than twenty-four hours. Sleep later coffee first.

So naturally he announced to Alfred he would be making a quick trip to the store to get a new one, politely asked the British man if he required anything from the store. Alfred seemed to consider the offer for a solid minute before asking him if he could get some groceries and essentials on his way back home. Handing him a list. Before he walked out of the manor Dick volunteered affably to accompany him, convincing a grumpy Jason, who was comfortably sitting, reading a wrinkled newspaper, to tag along. Jason surprisingly agreed, with the condition he was the one driving. Alfred rapidly suggested to take the demon spawn with them, he could use some frest air. Now things could only go downhill from this point. This piqued Steph’s interest, who casually commented she had nothing better to do. Soon they were on their way to the closest hypermarket.

Dick was there to make sure Damian didn’t behead anyone and get enough boxes of cereal he could hide before Alfred looked at him with disappointed eyes. There’s nothing worse in this world than Alfred’s disappointed eyes. The old man claimed ‘It’s not a proper meal nor healthy if it contained high levels of sugar’, but the companies also tended to fill them with vitamins, calcium, iron and folic acid. Therefore it was a fortified food! It had everything he needed for a balanced meal in Dick’s opinion. The extra sugar was even good for him considering how many calories he burned.

“The sword stays in the car, Damian.” Dick commanded, taking away the blade from twelves earth-old before he sets a foot out of the automobile, which was responded by a ‘TT’.

“Did we really have to bring shortstack?” Jason complained, voice etched with irritation, index finger pointing at Damian.

“As if I would agree to lower my nutritional standards because you fools failed to purchase the provisions Pennyworth demanded which is why I have it in my power.” Damian logically explained, grinding his teeth and waving the list at Jason.

“Don’t stab anyone.” Dick ordered with authority.

“I make no promises, Grayson.” Damian muttered dryly crossing his arms over his chest.

Damian cannot comprehend why would Pennyworth think he was needed to carry out such a simple task, he supposed if his siblings lacked the basic function acquire the list of edibles Alfred gave them and simultaneously behave in public, then he could supervise them. He was already here with them. Nothing to do about it.

“Did anyone asked Cass if she needed anything?” Dick questioned them, clear blue eyes looking at them expectantly. Cass was probably still in her bedroom resting, after staying up with him analyzing some cases.

“Oh how thoutful of you. You weren’t that nice to me, not even after I died.” Jason commented, his voice dripping with sarcasm and bitterness.

“Jay, you gotta stop bringing it up.” Dick reasoned as he placed a hand upon Jason’s shoulder, offering a small apologetic smile.

For once, Damian was quiet, observing the older brothers bicker over such a insignificant matter. Stephanie stifled a snort at their immature antics. A muffled ‘crybaby’ escaped her mouth, but only Tim, standing next to her was able to hear it.

It took everything Tim had not to roll his eyes and simply walk away. Why was he here with these troublemakers? Right. Coffee. The thing she had to endure for a duo of black coffee.

“I texted Cass. She wants pop tarts.” Stephanie supplied, eye glued to the screen of her phone.

“If you get lost. I’m leaving you here, losers.” Jason threatened with narrowed eyes, a faint glow in his blue-green eyes. Five minutes after parking the car, the siblings marched inside the hypermarket. Tim sighed wearily, silent calculations running through his mind, how long it would take them to leave the store with the groceries. Dick promptly grabbed a shopping cart.

~~~

Jason Todd was ready to shoot Dick Grayson if only he had a gun between his hands. Why the fuck did he even agree to come with these lil shits? Clearly, he wasn’t in his right mind. He was doing this for Alfred and Jason could never say no to Alfred. It was an easy task: read the list of essentials Alfred wrote down, grab the items, deposit them inside the fucking cart and pay for them. Piece of cake. But here he was in the middle of dairy aisle, listening to Dick asking him all sort of stupid questions. His patience dangerously wearing thin.

“Why is milk five dollars a gallon?” Dick exclaimed with shock as he examined the dairy product’s label.

“Who cares? You’re rich, money shouldn’t be a problem, dickhead.” Jason replied annoyed, there goes ten minutes of his life, stuck in the dairy aisle with this enthusiastic fool. Where did Damian and Steph go? Dick had thrown several boxes of cereal inside the cart, including: Cheerios and Waffle crisps, the latter was Steph’s petition. Who in the bloody hell needed fifteen boxes of cereal? Wait a minute, is that coffee flakes? That one had to be Tim’s idea.

“How do you exactly milk an almond though?” Dick asked with furrowed Brows, concentrated on the product, as If he was trying to decipher a secret code.

The desperation and bewilderment in Dick’s voice made a Jason raise an eyebrow. He would kill for a quick smoke. Not like he was seriously considering smoking inside the store. He could wait a few more minutes.

“I’ll explain out to you when you finally become a functional adult.” Jason breathed. Around them, the store buzzed, bright lights shining above and people murmuring and talking, nobody had recognized them so far. Even Jason felt a twinge of irritation at being here, and he wanted to get this shopping trip over with so he could go home.

“Who wants bacon?” Stephanie came out of nowhere, asking with a juvenile glee in her eyes as she dumped ten packs of bacon. Damian wouldn’t be happy about this.

“Where is the gremlin? We should have put him inside the cart.” Jason tried to keep a calm voice, looking around for any sign of little D. Jason had a bad feeling about this, settling at the pit of his stomach. He let out a deep breath and decided it was the moment to have that cig. So two missing, Damian and Tim. There it was that nagging voice was a constant in the back of his mind, reminding him of his responsibility, look after adoptive relatives.

“Steph, make sure replacement didn’t fall asleep at the Kitchen appliances section.” Jason commanded. “Dick, it’s your turn to supervise the rascals.” Slowly making his way towards the alcohol section, he could use a drink right now. Now, find an unpacked corner where he can have a smoke.

“What?” Dick exclaimed, suddenly finding himself alone in the dairy section. Where did everyone go?

~~~

Dick was passing by the cereal aisle again, because you can never have enough cereal. Perhaps he should get more lucky charms? Cinnamon toast was a must. Nobody in this family understood the enjoyment of ingesting artificially colored cereal. He was about to grab another box of fruity pebbles, lost in the paradise of cocoa, cinnamon and colored cereals, when abruptly a feminine voice brought him back to earth. He turned to catch a glimpse, eyes focused on the petite woman: average height, brunette, mid-twenties, freckled-cheeks, small gray eyes widened in irritation. This looked like trouble. What did he do?

“Excuse me, sir. Is this kid your little brother? We caught him bothering other customers at the meat section.” The petite employee questioned him with raised eyebrows, hands on her hips. Dick blinked puzzled. What. He kept his eyes fixed on the woman.

“When I asked if he was here accompanied by an adult. He pointed a finger at you.” Dick spotted then Damian, standing next to the woman, lips pursed, arms folded against his chest, glancing away, fleetingly looking younger than he actually was. Like a small child who was severely reprimanded for inappropriate behavior. What the hell Damian...

“I merely reminded him the innocent chicken between his hands deserved a life free from torture and suffering. We have the moral responsibility to protect animals!” Damian spoke plainly as he corrected the woman who dared accuse him of harassment.

“Damian, sto-“ Richard chimed in when he was interrupted by Damian’s animals rights speech.

“Allowing an animal to suffer is unethical and cruel. It’s slaughter! You are causing them unnecessary distress. Their throats are slit mercilessly! All animals have the ability to suffer in the same way and to the same degree that humans do.” The young Wayne continued, grumpily making eye contact with the uninformed store employee. Blue eye flicked between the two, the brunette seemed to be about to explode, Damian’s body language tightened, there was a crackling in the air and Dick instantly knew it was not going to end well. Shit. He ruffled his hair nervously.

“Damian no.” He pleaded urgently. Beads of sweat running down his forehead and cheekbones.

“Sir, could you please take your younger brother? Customers are agitated and perturbed by his presence.” The employee politely asked him but Dick could tell she was utterly irked at this point. Dick nodded and draped an arm over his little brother’s shoulders. Yeah, he was definitely taking him far, far away from her. Praying Damian kept his mouth shut and didn’t screw up even more. Predictably, Damian didn’t leave it alone.

“Again, as I explained earlier. I was elaborating on the numerous health and environment benefits of adopting a vegetarian diet.” Damian corrected her with trembling lips, green eyes filled with anger. This woman didn’t comprehend the great importance of saving an innocent life. Tsk. Father said even if someone is being disrespectful or crude he should not sink to their level, but this lady was being rude.

“Aren’t you one of Bruce Wayne’s ward?” The woman spoke with narrowed gray eyes, taking a step closer to Richard, studying closely the features of the older man.

Oh fuck. Unfortunately, she recognized them. Dick held up both hands defensively.

“I am the blood s-“ Damian was about to clarify when Dick rapidly covered his mouth with a large hand. “We are leaving now, Damian. Thank you, lady. Have a nice day.” He muttered hurriedly before running off.

~~~

Finally, Tim was getting in line for the cashier, the precious coffee maker in his arms, he could make himself a decent cup of black coffee as soon as they got home. A satisfied smile almost curled on his lips when he recognized the familiar sound of his siblings yelling, if his ears didn’t fail him and they never did. Oh no. Tim held a stiff nervous expression as he slowly turned to face them. He quickly scanned the scene, eyes wide in alarm. Remain calm Tim. Stephanie being escorted by a security guard, clothes stained, next was Jason groaning at the guard that tried to touch his leather jacket, followed by an embarrassed Dick with flushed cheeks, lastly Damian being dragged against his will. “Let me go! I can walk out of this questionable establishment myself.” Damian protested with boiling anger, glaring daggers at the security guards. His sword was inside the car. Good. No opportunity to behead anyone and commit a crime. Jason and Stephanie were clearly pissed. Dick pressing his face against a wall, undoubtedly ashamed.

Tim momentarily contemplated leaving the store with the coffee maker, a few seconds later, he couldn’t find it in him to abandon them to their fate here. Sigh. With the heavy weigh of his burdens, Tim approached a female employee. “Excuse me, those are my siblings. Could you explain to me what exactly they did?”

“Sir, this young lady here organized a shopping cart race along with some children in the middle of the vegetable section.” The angry store employee began, detecting unfiltered rage in her tone, as she pointed a finger at the blonde teenager.

“I did nothing Jason wouldn’t have done.” Stephanie told him, briefly exchanging glances with Jason. Jason bit down on his lower lip to repress laughter, whispering an almost inaudible ‘amateur’. Stephanie shrugged it off as it was unimportant, instead of trying to come up with an excuse that contained any sense of logic.

“This man was deliberately smoking inside the store.” Tim studied Jason’s amused expression. Probably not the first time he was caught doing it. “I mean she isn’t wrong.” He pointed out calmly, Shrugging broad shoulders nonchalantly.

“I found the kid tormenting customers at the meat aisle, he fled with the man with cereal fixation.” Before Damian could utter a word in his defense. Dick shut his mouth. Richard’s eyes silently expressing a wordless ‘don’t ask’. Tim was way too exhausted to deal with this. His body shaking with small movements for a second, stay in control. No time to collapse, solutions not more problems.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you and the rest of your relative to leave the store. And please do not come back.”

Tim fluttered his dark cerulean eyes close, feeling a very sharp pain in his temples. A recurrent migraine coming, cursing lowly for not stopping at the pharmacy to get aspirins. How is that he is the only rational and almost-functional person in this family. Coffee, coffee, coffee was the only thing he could think about. Less than fifty minutes and the Wayne’s discovered a way to get themselves banned from a Hypermarket. Likely setting a new world record.

Looks like they wouldn’t have the chance to go grocery shopping as a family any time soon. Not like it was a brilliant idea to begin with. They would have groceries delivered next time.

Here @sofiii 👀👀👀👀🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️

[honibee-arts]

If you are still doing ship prompts could you do Zhuiyi as rivals to lovers. Maybe Jin Ling insulting one of them makes them realize their feelings.

Yes! I am still doing these keep sending them in!

All of his life, Lan Jingyi had known one thing.

He would never be as good as Lan Sizhui.

He would never be as kind, or as fair, or as just, or as quick, or as intelligent, or as good with a sword as Lan Sizhui.

Lan Sizhui had joined Jingyi and the other children in Cloud Recesses when Jingyi was about five. He seemed shy but everyone immediately loved him. He seemed so special to everyone, but to Jingyi he was just another kid.

Throughout their studies and training, they had all worked hard to be recognised by Zewu Jun and Hanguang Jun, yet Lan Sizhui would walk by them all the time from infancy. What was so damn special about this boy that Zewu Jun would slip him loquats from his qiakun sleeves? What was so special about this boy that even the Grandmaster would allow him to walk behind him and meditate beside him.

As they grew, Jingyi's jealously fueled him into a rivalry with Lan Sizhui. Every time the boy was raised up Jingyi pushed himself harder, and found that he was rewarded.

With time, Jingyi became Lan Sizhuis rival, the only one who could match him. They were above all the others, something Jingyi would never say aloud as it was against the rules to be so arrogant. Yet, it frustrated him still the rivalry appeared one-sided.

Maybe Lan Sizhui felt like he was too good for Jingyi. Whatever. He didn't care.

Sizhui was his rival. Only his.

No one else's.

Was it normal to be so possessive over his rival? Maybe not. But Jingyi didn't know, nor did he care.

In retrospect, his obsession with Lan Sizhui was not what Jingyi had initially thought it to be.

Such an intense obsession was obviously more than just a rivalry. But he was too young and stupid to know that until the fateful day he had been provoked and pushed into a realisation that turned his world upside down. 

“Why waste time communicating with the spirit?!” Jin Ling shouted, glaring at Lan Sizhui, who sat in front of him, trying to focus on plucking the strings of the guqin in his lap. “Just kill the fucking monster and be done with it! You’re too fucking soft, I swear.”

“No he’s not!” Jingyi snapped back. One sad, defeated look in those brown doe eyes was enough to send him into a rage. “He’s doing the right thing! Rushing into it would have consequences! Stop being a brat and leave him alone!”

“Why do you care, huh? Don’t you hate him or something?!”

“No! I don’t I-”

Jingyi’s jaw snapped shut. After all these years... his drive, his motivation... did he get it wrong?

“Whatever. Just. Do whatever you want. I don’t care. If you aren’t done in the next hour I’m leaving to find the monster without you two.” Jin Ling stormed off, kicking a pebble at his feet and muttering something about peaceful ass Lans being damn weirdos or something of the like.

“Are... are you okay?” Jingyi asked awkwardly as Jin Ling’s canary coloured figure disappeared into the thick of the forest.

“Hm? Yes... I’m fine. I... Zewu Jun used to take me to Koi Tower when I was little so Jin Ling had someone to play with while he spoke with Liafang Zun. I’m used to him being... like this. It’s just how he is. I feel sorry for him sometimes.”

“Why?” Jingyi snorted, leaning against a tree trunk. “He’s a spoiled brat with anger issues. He’s an asshole.”

“Well... His parents died when he was a baby... I remember the other inner family Juniors picked on him quite a lot because of it... I... we should not gossip.”

“Sure. Fine. My parents died when I was a baby but you don’t see me being an dick...”

“I’m sure its more complicated than that...” Lan Sizhui said quietly. Jingyi found himself confused that Lan Sizhui’s usually annoying amount of empathy and kindness made his chest feel warm. “Anyway. I’m afraid I need silence...”

Jingyi nodded and looked ahead, his head beginning to swim with questions of what this may mean. If he didn’t hate Lan Sizhui... then how did he feel?

He thought back on his childhood, the moments that led him to this point, this conclusion.

He did not hate Lan Sizhui, he never did. He was forbidden from such behaviour anyway. One of the most infuriating things about him is that he seemed impossible to hate. He was, in every sense of the word, a ray of sunshine. He was gentle and fair, polite and diplomatic with a smile on his face at all times, even now.

His brows furrowed as he thought back to a poetry lecture given by Zewu Jun a few years ago. Most of the boys were not enthused by the thought of studying the limited romantic poetry in the library pavillion, Jingyi included, but there had been one thing Zewu Jun had said sagely that would echo in his head, and now it was starting to make sense as to why...

 “Love and hate were one in the same. Passions can easily be confused.”

Fuck. I’m in love with Sizhui. Came the abrupt realisation about three weeks later, causing his chicken wing to slip out of his chopsticks.

Sizhui reached with his own to pluck it out of his bowl and press it gently to his lips.

“I can’t believe Hanguang Jun was carrying alcohol...” Sizhui murmured. “It’s shocking, I know...”

Jingyi watched Sizhui’s lips move as he slowly chewed his chicken wing, lost in thought.

“- And I know we must maintain silence during mealtimes and not gossip but he was carrying alcohol. Hanguang Jun. Carrying alcohol. I just... It must be for Mo-Qianbei but still can’t he get it himself and not Hanguang Jun?”

“Sizhui.”

“Eh?”

“I’m in love with you.”

[fancifulwhump]

i’m a simple bitch who likes seeing jaskier get kidnapped and geralt having to rescue him lmao

AN:   as you ask, so shall you recieve.   protective geralt going from beast-mode to soft??  that’s my jam, dude

In Geralt’s complete defense, the risks of leaving Jaskier unattended — of which past experience had proven were many — really paled in comparison to a Devourer attack.

Rather, an attack by multiple Devourers, at the same bloody time, with the tenacity of a pack of wild wolves. The flesh-craving beasts showed little interest in a Witcher’s mutated blood. They wanted human flesh, and human alone. A reign of terror stretching on for weeks before Geralt happened upon the poor mining village in the mountains made that clear enough. People could no longer venture from their homes without risk of being torn to bits by a sulking monster. Geralt’s arrival was a blessing to them. Jaskier’s presence — for, having hit a creative dry spell, he'd been following Geralt for the last few weeks, to “fan the flames of inspiration” — was just convenient. 

Geralt never liked using the bard as bait. This had nothing to do with any moral qualms; any time Jaskier involved himself in a kill, things got complicated. He simple had a talent for getting in the way. Trouble was drawn to him like a magnet; rather than avoid it, the idiot almost seemed to invite it. Geralt tried to keep Jaskier out of the way during jobs because bailing him out of danger was more trouble than any amount of coin was worth.

That, and he’d rather not see his companion be mauled or swallowed whole by a monster. 

Sometimes, however, Jaskier’s presence during a job could actually be useful. Like it or not, Geralt had to put him to work.

“This isn’t my first time playing irresistibly seductive meat-sack, you know,” huffed the meat-sack in question, carefully fastening his lute to a pack strung along Roach’s side. When Jaskier looked up at Geralt, his eyes glittered. Whatever thrill he got from being in mortal peril, it was probably worrying. “Practically used to it by now. Could make it a profession. Thank the gods I’m here, too, or what else would you have done? Picked up a nice, juicy steak from the market, and dressed it up like a toddler?”

Geralt snorted, unsheathing a dagger from his belt. It was a small, silver-bladed thing — better for throwing than stabbing, though it could be useful at close range. The hilt was almost too small for his hands. In Jaskier’s, it fit perfectly.

“Only if you need it,” he said. Jaskier gripped the blade, eyes wide with fascination, before nodding and tucking it into his own belt. “Quick slashes. If you have to stab, stab deep.”

Of course, Jaskier couldn’t fight, and he certainly didn’t stand a chance against a monster… but at least he wouldn’t be completely helpless.

So, Jaskier was sent on ahead, and did what he did best — played the oblivious fool. Only when he’d blustered along the mountainside for about ten minutes, leading Roach along as the Witcher silently trailed them both, did their plan show signs of success. In the distance, a few rocks shifted. Pebbles rolled down the mountainside. The faint trill of birdsong went quiet.

Jaskier had been humming to himself, but his voice cut off abruptly. His head raised; he glanced around. That was all he had time to do before a blur suddenly shot out of the cave, launching itself at him.

And another, and another — more than Geralt expected.

In a few swift bounds, he was in the middle of the fray, cutting Devourers down in midair. This was just enough time for the bait to make his escape. With the battle begun, Jaskier leapt on top of Roach and sped off — “somewhere safe”, Geralt had told him.

So maybe Geralt was the fool, for assuming the hapless bard could look after himself. At any rate, he trusted Roach to keep Jaskier out of trouble; the horse always had more sense than he did, anyhow. 

An hour, maybe, or less — that’s how long it took for Geralt, covered in Devourer blood and a few new scratches, to follow the trail his horse and companion left, only to come up empty handed. Not being able to hear Jaskier’s annoying caterwaul was the first sign of trouble. Coming across a lute in the bushes, smashed and abandoned, was the second.

Picking up the remnants of the familiar instrument, Geralt’s hands tightened around the wood; he sighed through his nose, barely able to restrain his own frustration.

Served him right for letting Jaskier near his bloody horse... and letting them both out of his sight.

Witcher senses were better honed for tracking than even the most astute hunter. It also helped that the bandits didn’t bother to cover their tracks well. The left a trail of broken twigs, snapped branches, and footprints behind them. However much of a head start the group — Geralt counted five sets of footprints, maybe six — had on him, it didn’t take long to track them down.

Even so, it took long enough. Too long.

He could smell the blood before the noises reached his ears. Perhaps the senses hit at the same time, and he just didn’t register; as soon as that metallic tang hit his nose, all-too-familiar, Geralt saw red. Blood meant nothing on its own, but this blood held a familiar scent — he’d recognize it anywhere. It was as familiar to him as that annoying voice, or that smirk any time Jaskier said something he thought was particularly funny. Blood could belong to anyone, but Jaskier’s blood was his, and Geralt could smell a lot of it.

Blood, and noise, and shouting — not Jaskier’s voice, but a stranger’s rough tone, spitting venom in a language Geralt faintly recognizes. A horse’s frustrated wail. Sharpening blades. And underneath it all… a strangled whimper.

Geralt found the bandits’ campsite.

As for whatever happened at the campsite… well, he couldn’t be held responsible.

By the time the last of the thieves took off running into the forest, stumbling over himself in horror, the bandits’ camp was utterly quiet. Before his body hit the tree, the big one had been making an awful lot of noise. So was the quick one, when he hissed at Geralt and tried to draw his sword; thankfully, Geralt was quicker. Now, in the silence, with nothing but his heavy breathing as he came back to awareness, Geralt could see everything.

Roach was unharmed, tied to a tree. She stomped her feet as Geralt came closer, as if applauding his quick work… but Geralt’s attention turned in a second, from her to the other side of the clearing. Silence reigned there as well, and it was unnerving. 

Jaskier was never silent. Jaskier didn’t know how to be silent. 

The figure slumped against the base of the tree, chest bound with rope and head bowed, did not make a sound.

The stench of blood grew overwhelming the closer Geralt got. He had to force himself not to focus on it. Instead, he honed in on Jaskier’s heart, beating a steady rhythm in his chest. Not faltering, not stuttering — he was alive, then. Unconsciously, a sigh of relief escaped Geralt, loud in the silent woods.

Then he saw the blood staining a head of dark hair, trailing down Jaskier’s jaw.

“Shit.” Immediately, he dropped to one knee, hand finding his companion’s shoulder. The battered captive’s face scrunched you in pain when Geralt gripped it. “Jaskier. Hey! Jaskier.” Unwilling to hurt him any further, Geralt shook his companion lightly. “Wake up.”

It was just enough — or maybe the pain from Geralt’s touch pulled him back into wakefulness. Jaskier stirred, head sluggishly rolling on his shoulders. For a moment, he struggled to lift it, as though his skull were filled with lead rather than gray matter. When he finally managed, he blinked sluggishly up at Geralt, pupils blown wide. Concussion, then, Geralt thought, and had to bite back another curse.

“Ah hah — the mighty Witcher!” Jaskier’s head fell back like a doll’s; still, he offered Geralt a wide grin. His teeth were stained with blood, from the busted corner of his lip. “Knew you’d come for me. It was only a matter of time. Caught about half that fight, I think. Just half. Til you threw that one lad down the hill.”

Was it any surprise that even half-senseless, Jaskier still didn’t know how to shut up? Geralt just took it as a good sign that he was talking. While the bard blathered on, he busied himself checking Jaskier over for further injuries. His shoulder was probably dislocated; he’d have some colorful bruises in the morning; there were a few deep scratches along his face and bare forearms, like he’d been dragged through brush…

“Mmm. Geralt. Hey.” Jaskier’s movement was sudden — like a marionette unable to control his own limbs, his arm raised, landing heavily on Geralt’s shoulder. When Geralt looked up, Jaskier’s head was lolling to the side. He seemed to be putting in a valiant effort to stay awake. Half opened eyes remained trained on Geralt, warm with an emotion Geralt could not name, but left him feeling immensely guilty. He should have gotten here sooner. He shouldn’t have let Jaskier out of his sight in the first place.

“Look,” said Jaskier — and, very deliberately, nodded towards the thug still crumpled at the base of a nearby tree. The tree’s trunk had a dent in it. Geralt wished he’d thrown him harder. “In the pockets,” insisted Jaskier, giving Geralt a weak push of encouragement.

Bemused, Geralt made his way over; hoisting the thug’s body up by the back of his jacket, he shook him out for any spare bits. A shower of gold pieces greeted him, along with a pair of rings… and a silver-bladed dagger, stained with blood. Geralt lifted the familiar blade, frowning at it. When his gaze turned to Jaskier again, a grin, bleary but proud, greeted him.

“Jus’ like you said,” Jaskier slurred, then let out a dry crackle of laughter. “I stabbed ‘im deep. And they did not appreciate that, let me tell you —“

“Damn it, Jaskier,” Geralt muttered, hand tightening around the blade.

Yet another mistake to tally for the day. Giving Jaskier a weapon was supposed to keep him out of trouble, not damn him deeper.

Without bothering to clean it off, Geralt rounded on Jaskier, blade clutched in his hands. Jaskier’s unfocused gaze tracked his approach with obvious effort. However hard he was trying to stay awake, he was fighting a losing battle. Even so, not a flicker of fear crossed Jaskier’s face at the sight of a hulking Witcher, advancing with a blade in hand.

Geralt cut Jaskier’s bonds in a few quick strokes. As soon as he was no longer bound to the tree, Jaskier slumped forward. It took Geralt’s quickest reflexes to lurch sideways, catching him before he could hit the ground. A dead weight in his arms, Jaskier let out a small moan.

“What is it?” Geralt demanded. As he shifted the injured man into an easier position, Jaskier inhaled sharply, face twisting up in pain. Another groan sounded through clenched teeth, but a second later Jaskier forced a strained smile.

“Kicked me in the chest — more than once.”

Geralt didn’t need to test the statement any further. As gently as he was capable of being, he eased Jaskier back against the tree. Broken ribs would be more of a headache than all of Jaskier’s other injuries combined, but hopefully he didn’t shatter so easily. Human bodies were so fragile; Geralt saw it every day, of course, in the remains of men torn apart by monsters. Seeing it firsthand was different. Seeing Jaskier, of all people, wounded and in pain… something in Geralt’s chest was drawn tight, like a clenched fist, and the more his companion swallowed back sounds of pain, the tighter it got.

“Better get you up, then,” he muttered. Jaskier nodded, face still screwed up. A long moment passed before his hand tightened on Geralt’s shoulder, and it took yet another moment before he managed to hoist himself upright.

Finding his feet was another challenge. Geralt did his best to offer support without brutalizing Jaskier’s injuries further. No sooner did he pull himself up, however, than Jaskier began to teeter. When his gaze slipped out of focus, Geralt’s arm twined around him. He caught him just as Jaskier’s knees began to buckle.

A yell shattered the illusion of quiet around them, ripping through Jaskier’s body like a physical attack. As fresh pain rippled through his chest, he shoved away from Geralt, who released him without protest. For a moment, it seemed certain that Jaskier would topple. His breathing heavy, each gasp an effort that nearly knocked him sideways, he finally managed to find his feet. Wide eyed, he gazed at Geralt, twisting a protective arm around his chest.

“I’m — I’m okay.” Jaskier put a hand up. “I’m fine. But next time — next time I fall, Geralt, don’t bother catching me.”

Geralt arched an eyebrow. In response, Jaskier shook his head. “I can manage on my own.”

And to his credit, he did. He managed to get on Roach, at least, and the horse carried him back the rest of the way. Jaskier didn’t lose consciousness once, no matter how his head lolled or his senses drifted. Geralt didn’t mind the slurred ramblings, weaving their way through utter nonsense. Only when Jaskier went silent did he worry. Each time, he looked up to find his friend fading, blue eyes half-shut, head falling against his shoulder. Geralt gave a bruising pinch to the flesh of his arm, and Jaskier awoke again.

The nearest inn was a night’s ride from their campsite, and it was getting dark already. By the time they made it back, there seemed little sense going any further, especially with Jaskier in his state. He fell into his bed as soon as Geralt had it laid out on the ground, and did not have the energy to raise his head, even when Geralt offered him a sip of much-needed water.

“‘M fine,” Jaskier muttered. His muted tone suggested he was anything but; Geralt wouldn’t argue, though, if rest was really what Jaskier needed. 

“We need to set your shoulder,” he remarked, keeping his voice low for Jaskier’s benefit. “And clean the blood from your head. That wound ought to be bandaged.”

Jaskier nodded along slowly, as thought everything Geralt was saying made perfect sense. His eyes were closed, expression unchanging, so however much he really understood was anyone’s guess. Frowning, Geralt took the liberty of wetting a cloth himself. Hesitating for just long enough to wonder which decisions in his life brought him to this point — to caring so deeply for someone so easily breakable, so human — he set the cloth against Jaskier’s bloodied face. As the grime was sponged away, Jaskier could not help but sigh in relief.

“That’s the stuff,” he muttered. “All I need. Just… rest, Geralt? Can we? Is that okay?”

Geralt considered him for a moment. “Yes, Jaskier. We can rest awhile.”

This was all he needed to hear. Jaskier smiled, setting his head back down on his pack once more; as his eyes drifted shut, Geralt fought off an instinctive flash of worry. Hand tightening around the damp cloth, he brought it back to Jaskier’s face, and continued cleaning the remnants of that bloody encounter.

Next time they faced down monsters, he might think twice about letting Jaskier out of his sight… but no matter what trouble he fell into, Geralt would always be there to pull him out.