#this was extremely fun and self indulgent i love u ruffian

[burningcrab]

ALSO for kiss writing ask. 44 + ruffian/york . if u want

oh hell yes i love stupid teenagers. (this ruffian uses he/she and is an interp from my piece for dasy’s zine! she is an angry little teen and i love him. pspsps read it…)

44. public kisses

Ruffian is absolutely losing his fucking mind down here. Body-thieving some poor Shoe Thief for long enough to strike out isn’t enough. He needs to lift her own bat and feel the breeze on her (not through) and touch some fucking grass.

She’s been sulking for… an indeterminate period of time… when someone splashes out of the dark towards her. “What do you want,” he grumbles. “I don’t want another deathday party.”

“New arrival,” mumbles Hands. Ruffian feels a twinge of regret. She’ll grudgingly admit it’s nice not being the only Mechanic down here. Hands is… alright. Sie doesn’t deserve that. “Thought you’d wanna see him. Going now.”

Ruffian flops around in her own private tantrum for a minute, then gets up. At least a new dead guy is something. Fuck. Off he shuffles, to the big doors that don’t let people out. (Except when they do, but Ruffian hasn’t been one of them yet. Why should he care?)

The latest splashdown is short, and they’re clutching something. Weird. Most people show up with nothing but the shirt on their backs and the smell of smo—

“York?” Ruffian says, stopping short. A dead star coughs up his final lungful of Trench-black not-water and looks up at her.

“Oh, hey,” he wheezes. “Ruffian.”

“You fucking asshole,” Ruffian manages to say. He drags York to his feet and dips him low — and nearly drops him back down again, holy shit how does this look so easy in movies — and he kisses York Silk.

um

A squid the size of the Core floats over them.

gonna give you a minute

i guess

hey there york silk

ill go check the snacks

York doesn’t technically need to breathe, but he’s still got the hardwiring of a living guy with oxygen requirements. He finally gets himself together enough to break away from her. There’s a hot flush creeping up his neck even in the chill of the Hall, and he’s dropped the Vibe Check into the shallow water they stand in.

“You seriously never got up the courage to kiss me before I bit it?!” Ruffian says. She stands York back up and brushes him off a bit. “You jerk.”

“I didn’t know how to ask,” complains York.

Ruffian groans. “Maybe hey there my main Mech man mister Ruffian Applesauce you’re hot can we make out or something would have worked! I dunno, I’m not the one who invited his buddies over for Mario Party and then said whoever gets shot out of the Goomba cannon first has to kiss the winner. You used a Slowgo Candy instead of just turning to the left and kissing me right there.”

“You would have won if it wasn’t for the bonus stars.”

“They’re part of the game, York. Plan around them!”

“Can I kiss you back now?”

Ruffian waves to the crowd of other dead surrounding them. Some politely avert their eyes, others grin in the smug, knowing way adults do, and some just look eager to talk to York. Hands gives Ruffian a little thumbs-up.

“You don’t mind everyone looking?” she asks.

York shrugs. “I’m used to it,” he says, and flashes his beautiful little evening-news grin.