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cozy-cinnamon-roll · 2 months

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We Interrupt This Broadcast...

(Another two-part-er! Stay tuned for part 2 very shortly!)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Rosie, Ler!OC, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, very brief blood mention, medical themes (non-graphic & painless). One comically graphic description of cannibalism (first paragraph). Also, this is set right after Alastor gets his ass handed to him by Adam, so you can expect a lil angst sprinkled in there (don't worry, he gets better).

If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige. 💕

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

Ok... I'm gonna be honest folks, I have no idea if this fic is even coherent. This ain't my Best Work™ - this is literally the coping mechanism I've been relying on to put myself to sleep every night this week because HOLY SHIT my life is stressful at the moment. 😅

But anyway, I've decided I'm just gonna go ahead and post it, because 1) the world needs more lee!alastor, and 2) I'm not here to do my Best Work™, I'm here to write cute self-indulgent little stories about Alastor getting tickled to bits by his platonic wife. I'm here to decompress my hypervigilant ass at the end of long days by imagining my favorite endearingly creepy characters get wrecked by my other favorite endearingly creepy characters.

In summary, I'm here to have a good time, and I certainly did with this fic. So I hope you do too!

Featuring my new oc! (Rosie and Al still take center stage though, don't worry lol)

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It's a little-known fact that cannibals make terrific doctors. When you spend every meal tearing the human body apart with your face, you end up with a pretty comprehensive intuition for demonic anatomy.

So Alastor supposed he should consider himself lucky to have Rosie and her loyal posse so close at hand after his battle with Adam.

He was certainly relieved when Rosie had stumbled upon him, barely conscious from blood loss on the floor of his wrecked radio tower - and especially a few hours later when, having been rushed back to Cannibal Town, he was whisked into a warm, familiar parlor and deposited on a comfy couch.

Within minutes Rosie had summoned a woman in a white coat who swooped in, produced a bottle of a strange, foul-smelling gel from her medicine bag, soaked a rag with it, and pressed it firmly against Alastor's wound. The searing pain evaporated almost on contact.

"What is that?" Alastor breathes, visibly relaxing against the arm of the couch he's propped against.

"Anesthetic." She begins preparing a needle and thread.

"Didn't know such a thing existed down here."

"Of course! We're demons, not barbarians," Rosie scoffs, watching from the sidelines.

Cannibals, as a rule, rarely last long enough to need a doctor, but Rosie is no ordinary cannibal. And Dr. Trudy Sawblade - a young surgical resident in life, and Rosie's personal physician in death - is the best of the best. While she hadn't quite completed her medical training before her untimely death, in Rosie's service she's gained more than enough experience to make up for her education cut short.

"That salve is derived from a distant cousin of the poison dart frog. Evidently most of the frogs are assholes, because hell has an downright enormous population of them." Trudy's voice is measured and matter-of-fact, with a soft lilt that is both soothing and vaguely unsettling. "Haven't been discovered on earth yet. Which is good, because one whiff of this would end a mortal life in a matter of seconds."

"Lucky you, you're already dead," Rosie chimes in cheerfully.

"Lucky me," Alastor murmurs, without conviction.

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Truthfully, with the pain from his chest wound numbed, the weight of his recent defeat presses even more heavily on Alastor's heart. Someone - probably one of the cannibals who helped transport him from the rubble pile to Rosie's parlor - must have grabbed the broken microphone as they carried him out, because the fractured pieces are sitting on the side table at the other end of the couch. Under normal circumstances the awareness that someone had touched his staff without permission would spark a flash of rage from the Radio Demon, but now he can only stare dismally at what remains of his cane - aware that it's no longer capable of accomplishing much anyway.

It takes only a few minutes for Trudy to stitch Alastor back up and wrap his chest in a stretchy gauze. Meanwhile, Rosie quickly mends the worst of the tears in his clothes - if only to avoid having to watch her friend stare down the couch at his broken staff, with an uncharacteristic half-smile that damn near breaks her heart.

"Alright, sir, that should do it for now. It's a nasty gash, for sure, but the salve should keep it from getting infected."

"Thank you, my dear." He gives an appreciative nod to the surgeon, and Rosie too, as his fellow overlord hands him back his clothes.

"Can't have you going around with a big hole in your chest, can we?" Rosie steps back and scrutinizes her own patch job as he slowly dresses himself again. "It ain't perfect... especially for a classy fellow like you. But I'm sorry to report that I saw my tailor at a Sunday brunch just last week. Inconvenient, but I gotta admit, he made a wonderful casserole."

For the briefest of moments, this aside manages to tweak Alastor's smile into something vaguely genuine. "I'm sure he did."

"One more thing, Mr. Alastor, sir," Trudy jumps in as the radio demon pulls on his coat. "So sorry, I almost forgot. The angel also threw you against a wall, correct?"

At the recollection, Alastor's smile stiffens into something more closely resembling a grimace. His antlers rise between his ears. "Does it matter?"

"You may be at risk for internal injuries." If Trudy is at all fazed by inviting the most powerful overlord in hell's annoyance, it doesn't show. "I really ought to check, just to be safe."

Alastor looks away. As loathe as he is to even acknowledge his own fragility, he truly isn't sure of the extent of his own injuries - given that he's not used to receiving them in the first place. And he'd be damned (well, damned twice) if Adam had ruptured something vital, spelling the radio demon's second death a few hours after the fact.

He grits his teeth. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

"Lovely. If you could just lie back, sir..." As he obliges, she kneels beside the couch. "I'm just going to feel for any swelling..." Her hands hover over him-

"Er, wait." Alastor abruptly sits up.

"It's alright, I won't touch your wound!" Trudy soothes. "I'll just be feeling down here..." She gestures to his midsection (which elicits a sharp flinch).

"No, I-" He hesitates. "I'm... not sure this is necessary."

"Oh, Alastor, stop worryin'!" Rosie reassures him with a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Trudy is quite picky about her meals. She'd never go for venison."

"That's... not what..."

Alastor pauses, and evidently decides against trying to explain what he meant. He reluctantly lies back against the cushions again.

"I'm going to place my hands under your shirt, sir. If you feel any pain, please alert me."

"Very well."

As Trudy lifts his shirt, he looks like he is going to say something more - but whatever it is dies on his tongue the moment her hands make contact with his stomach. He brings one knee up sharply.

"Tender there, sir?"

"No! No, your hands are cold." His words have gone uncharacteristically stiff.

Trudy methodically probes one side of his belly, then the other (which in turn causes his other knee to pop up). This time when Trudy asks if he's in pain, he merely shakes his head.

The surgeon furrows her brow, concentrating. Human-animal hybrids like Alastor already take a bit of poking around just to get a sense for each unique configuration of organs. It doesn't help that the man is bracing for every touch...

"Are you sure this doesn't hurt, sir?" she murmurs tentatively. "You're very tense."

"Yes." The word comes out like a hiss. She glances at the radio demon's face. He's wearing his typical showman's smile, but his eyes are fixed on the ceiling with a weird, wide, unwavering stare.

Finally the surgeon sits back. "Well, I don't feel anything concerning. But to be honest, sir, I can't feel much of anything." She turns apologetically to her employer. "His stomach is all clenched up..."

But Rosie is simply standing there pressing a huge grin into her glove. She's known Alastor for decades. She can read his expressions like a magazine.

"Alastor, darling," Rosie drawls casually. "Are you ticklish?"

From the radio demon's reaction, you'd think she'd asked if he was an Exorcist. He scrambles to sit up. "No! Why would-"

"You're ticklish. That's..." She catches herself just before the word precious.

"...What?!" There's an edge of defensiveness to his voice that Rosie very rarely hears from him.

"Why are you embarrassed?"

"I'm not emb- That's not- what-" Oh, she's giving him that look. "I'm just- I wasn't-"

As he speaks, Alastor's voice suddenly goes thin. His gaze turns inward. "I'm stuttering. I don't stutter! I've never stuttered!" He clutches his coat closer around himself. "I am the RADIO DEMON, for heaven's sake, I don't sta-AHH! Haha-!"

Evidently a scribble to the ribs is a very effective way to interrupt a panicking demon. Rosie runs her fingers from his hip up his side to his arm and back a couple times for good measure.

The amount of startled laughter she is able to draw from just this surprise touch delights her - the poor man is so ridiculously sensitive that a five-second one-handed tickle leaves him fully breathless.

"Okay! Okay, okahay! Keheh- Rosie!"

"Sorry dear, couldn't resist." She holds her hands up, still beaming like a stadium light. "I'll stop torturing you."

Alastor clears his throat. "You're not torturing me, dearest." He straightens his bowtie, clearly attempting to salvage his dignity. "You know what I always say, laughter is a powerful sign of-"

He cuts off with a sharp inhale and defensive flinch as Rosie perches on the edge of the sofa beside Trudy. She grins.

"You're right. That's certainly your specialty, isn't it?"

Alastor forces a nervous chuckle. "Never fully dressed without a smile, you know."

"Well don't worry, darling. I understand." She pats his knee. "Just because you've got the scariest evil cackle in hell doesn't mean you appreciate having it tickled out of you."

Rosie had expected this assurance to put him at ease, but if anything, he seems more troubled.

"Why would I mind a little, ah..." Tickling. Tick-ling. He can't bring himself to articulate two syllables. Is this all he's left with without his staff? "...Er, a little bit of levity? Can't let things get too serious, can we?" With another quick cough, the radio demon finally manages to get his voice to fall back into his familiar breezy cadence. He turns to Trudy. "Now, are we... quite finished with that examination?"

"Nothing seems amiss, from what I can feel." Trudy takes a step back. "Which is not much, but I think I've already made you uncomfortable enough..."

"Nonsense! I'm perfectly at ease!" He lies back again and smooths his coat. "Please, finish your little checkup. I insist."

Trudy regards him curiously for a moment. "Right." Her hands hover over his belly again. "But if you want me to stop, sir, just say the word-"

"I assure you that w-won't be necessahary..."

Trudy watches him seize up before her fingers even make contact. This time she presses a little deeper into his belly, trying to feel around his defensiveness.

"You are punching holes in my couch," Rosie remarks dryly, watching the poor demon's claws bury themselves in the cushions.

"I kn... ohow, I'm just-" He squeezes his eyes shut as Trudy hits a particularly bad spot. And then another. And another... hell, his torso one big bad spot.

"What do you think, Trudy?"

The young doctor just shakes her head.

"Alastor. Darling. You have GOT to relax."

"I am!" Alastor's composure is dangling by the thinnest of threads.

"Maybe it would help," Trudy says, with infinite caution, "to just go ahead and laugh, sir."

A beat. And then Rosie bursts into laughter.

"Giving new meaning to the 'deer in the headlights' expression, my friend." She scoots closer. "I thought you just said you don't mind a little 'levity'..."

"I don't!"

"In that case. Carry on, Trudy - Auntie Rosie is gonna help our patient out a bit while you work."

Too late, Alastor realizes what his fellow overlord has in mind. "Wait, wait! Ros-"

A delicate set of nails find the region just under his ribs - and it's all downhill from there.

"Ah! Fuhuck!" Alastor chokes on a curse before he can catch himself. He twists sideways, collapses into muffled giggles, and briefly manages to pull himself together - just barely - with a few hyperventilated breaths. "Rosie, really! This isn't- please- ack! I can't-" There's that damn stutter again. He hadn't even stuttered when Adam slashed him.

And now, Great Alastor the Radio Demon, undone by some scribbles? And a medical exam?!

Meanwhile, Trudy can feel even less now than she could before, her patient's belly now quaking with silent, suppressed mirth. But she takes one look at Rosie's delighted expression... and continues probing anyway, curling a subtle little smirk of her own.

It seems Rosie has picked up on a slightly less tangible injury than anything Trudy can address. But fortunately, they've just stumbled upon a promising potential treatment.

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Part 2 is already pretty much finished - my brain is just too mushy at this point to contend with Tumblr's shitty text interface any longer, and this feels like a good stopping point.

Lemme get a good night sleep and another dose of Prozac and I'll have the rest out shortly 😅

💜 - Cozy

#lee!alastor #ler!rosie #ticklish!alastor #oh deer he's ticklish #ticklefic #tickle content #hazbin hotel tickles #hazbin hotel tickling

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myntrose · 1 year

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ׂׂૢgenshin characters as meet-cutes!ׂׂૢ

ft: Tighnari, Diluc, Ayato x gender neutral! Reader (separately)

cn: modern au!, kinda academy au!, a lot of head-cannon dumping lol, prob grammar mistakes, a tiny bit ooc, fluff :D

a/n: hello:D im trying to get back to writing lol o/ also, for the meet-cute statements, reader would be "A"

word count: 826

*ೃ༄meet-cute: an amusing or charming first encounter between two characters that leads to the development of a romantic relationship between them.

Tighnari

*ೃ༄when A and B reach for the same book at the library

His footsteps were quick and rushed, each being more anxious than the last. It wasn't uncommon to see Tighnari in the library during the most obscure hours of the night. What was different was that, unlike his usual studious self, forgot to include a whole paragraph of research in his latest essay. Who could blame him? He was so busy with mentoring his underclassmen, and conducting all sorts of new projects that this particular one had completely left his mind. He skims through the shelves looking for a specific book. "The researchers guide to foreign fauna" (he had already read this one), "The sun's effects of nocturnal plants" (he had not read this one, maybe he should borrow it as well) and, ah! "The safety handbook vol. 1: caring for variegated plants" Just the book he needed. Instead of reaching out the grab the books spine, his hand collides with that of your own. He looks straight at you, the gears in his mind immediately clicking. Ah, looks like you need the same book. While he fights a conflicted battle of being a gentleman and giving you the book, or to just snatch and run, you realize that both your hands are still touching. You quickly retract your hand away, opening your mouth to start bargaining with your life as to why you really need this book for your research topic. Your convincing falls sort when Tighnari makes a slight cough.

"Heh... it looks like we both need this book. You can have it first, I don't mind..."

He pulls out his phone, opening up his contacts.

"...But please, the moment you have no more use for it, call me so I can pick it up."

If it hadn't been for the library's dim lights, perhaps you would have noticed the slight blush that brushed across Tighnari's face.

Diluc

*ೃ༄A is forced to attend a fancy party, gets seated next to B, who they complain about how lame the party is. B is the party host (A is unaware of this)

It's almost rare that Diluc could get a breather away from his own party. It came the time that it was the young heir's birthday once again. While his fellow classmates could only dream of having such an extravagant celebration, Diluc couldn't help but dread it. After all, he knew close to no one here, most being business partners, or the families of his fathers friends. He grabs his cup of grape juice, watching from the corner of his eyes as someone interrupts his silent bubble. Dread fills Diluc as he prepares a half-lived smile, ready to talk to whichever business owner had the nerves to ask for a collaboration-

"It's nice to see that someone else looks bored as hell in this party."

...?

He turns his chair to get a better look at you. He doesn't exactly know you. Maybe a child of one of the many CEO's present? You look like you're supposed to be at this party, dressed according to the theme and such. But he makes quick to recognize the slight scowl on your face. The look of, if-one-more-person-talks-about-economics-with-me-I'll-snap. You turn to fully look at the person you sat next to.

"Hey, I was thinking of leaving early and getting some takeout. Wanna come with?"

Maybe you were the breath of fresh air he needed.

Ayato

*ೃ༄A thinks they found their friend, giving them a surprise hug from behind. They hugged B. Their friend watched the whole thing happen.

Maybe Ayaka should have mentioned that she had a brother. Could all the blame be put on her, though? Yes, they did have very similar hair. But surely anyone could have realized that on height alone that the person you so very excitedly hugged wasn't her, but her much taller brother.

After class had officially ended, you spotted your dear friend at the end of the hallway. You were extremely tired as it is, with the only thought in mind being to regain energy through your very positive friend. Sleep made its way early to you, so when you bear-hugged your friend it took long to realize how you were actually cuddling.

On the other side of this, Ayato was deep in conversation with Thoma, before turning his head to see one of his juniors practically squeezing the life out of him. Thankfully, he sees Ayaka walk up to him, reaching to his ear and whispering what had just happened. Ayato couldn't help but let out a light-hearted smile. Ayaka taps your shoulder, causing your eyes to flutter open.

"Ayaka, please let me rest"

...

"Wait, how are you standing in front of me if-"

Maybe Ayaka should properly introduce you to her brother.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #tighnari x reader #diluc x reader #ayato x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact tighnari x reader #genshin impact diluc x reader #genshin impact ayato x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin x you #diluc ragnivindr x reader #ayato kamisato x reader #genshin drabble #genshin drabbles #AHHAHA im back guys #i finally got scara so now im just wating for zhongli >.<#mynt's collection

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pebiejeebies · 2 months

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How to get yourself a partner! By Pebie!! (PLEASE DONT DO THIS IRL ISTFG…!!!)

I’m so normal, btw this is very long, BUT I SWEAR ITS WORTH IT!1

First, act very innocent to said person! So they don’t suspect anything!!

It will give them a false sense of security,, and when they fall for it….

YOU SHOW THEM YOUR SURPRISE!!

Tip! Use your plot armor advantage!! They can’t complain if they’re in your game! :3c

Tch! Works every time 😋

Make sure to make them faint, or else the plan will fail :(

Once you get them to faint, OOOOHOHOOHOHOOOO!! LET ME COOK!!

Yep! It’s definitely what you think it is, no, not a simple boring tea party,

It’s a date!! :Oc but deceive them into thinking it’s just a tea party! So they don’t get creeped out :(

They will most likely ask for some tea to kill their head ache!! So offer some normal and safe tea!

Then you give them a false sense of security, I’ll tell you why soon :)

Give them stress and fear, but comfort them by your attitude! Like always speaking softly and kindly, despite the fact that they could DIE :P

Haha /ref to Fear garden!! Haha… ha..

No, but seriously it’s all harmless! Just keep toying with them for a while, until they slowly start to trust you despite your horrific behavior!!

Now, look at this!!

Once they see that your ill intentions weren’t true, they’ll trust you more!

But keep toying more and more until the its time!

Plus, recommend randomly disappearing for a while to make them feel scared with out you <:(c

again, so their trust slowly grows with each other!! <3

Again, keeeeepp toying, I promise it’s worth it

Being corny is sadly a part of this process, but it will let them trust you! :D

LOOK LOOK!! IT WORKED! BLUSHING IS THE FIRST SIGN!! ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY WRITE A WHOLE PARAGRAPH ABOUT YOUR KINDNESS!! :DD

LADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND ENBYPALS,,

WE GOTTEM!!!

(I’m so sane guys I’m sooooo sane… soo soo sans… hrggehehehgerg)

Yeah lol I have nothing to say,, but omfg do share your stories if you actually do this!! I’ll make an easier list of what you’re supposed to do

How to get: Fictional Partner

1 - Introduce yourself nicely and shyly to prevent any suspicions

2 - Make them faint

3 - Take them to the “Tea party” that is truly, a date

4 - Give them many false sense of security, but keep your genuine intentions pretty basic!

5 - Give them the option to leave, or…. 😋

YOYR VERY WELCOME!!

Peeps who wanted to taste my cooking!!

@cookieseals @salachy-part-two @plasky @fannybfdi-number1fan @axolkitkat @jazzberiperks

#osc #silly #golden #object show community #object shows #inanimate insanity #trophy #ii trophy #trophy ii #inanimate inanity #trophy inanimate insanity #inanimate insanity trophy #happy valentines #valentines day #happy valentine's day #valentines gifts #osc community #objectshow

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rizzraa · 1 month

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ᯓ★ Jams and Jellies

Chapter 1: Once More to See You

Hello everyone! My name is rizzraa and it's my first time ever posting fanfiction. It's been a while since I wrote an actual story, and even then I still don't think I'm the greatest writer. If you could be patient with me, I'd appreciate that. I don't mind constructive criticism, in fact I welcome it lol. I'm not sure how long this series will last, I just wrote one day because my brain couldn't handle all this yearning and daydreaming of Joel Miller. I didn't even watch the show, it's the tlou community that got ahold of me 😭

So please bear with me and have fun with me :33

Tags: mainly fluff, friends to lovers, post outbreak, yearning and burning, slight age gap (reader is in 30s, Joel is in early 50s), reader insert, mentions of y/n, cute nicknames, overall just an imaginary scenario in my head, shy n awkward Joel, Joel x f!reader, I can't think of anything else for this chapter

Summary:

You are an eccentric and lovely art teacher, trying to foster creativity in youth and elders alike in Jackson. One student seems to have that same artistic flair as you, and it naturally draws you closer to her. Her father notices this and wants you to get closer to him as well.

chap 2

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

You stare at the ceiling as the sun's rays stubbornly peers through the slits of your curtains. You can tell that the sun is starting to rise by how bright the light gets each second. I wonder what I should do today. How can I get them to be more...just more?? It's hard trying to get teenagers to engage with school, but it's straight up embarrassing trying to beg for their attention. You have a lot of energy, you are passionate for the arts, but it seems like that's the last thing the kids are thinking about. Well, they are teenagers. But even then, I still was fond of the arts. It's not THAT boring??? It's fun....? You sighed, getting up from your bed and preparing for the day. You decided that today is the day they will start to appreciate the artistry of the world, because today you will get through to them. With this newfound optimism, you scurry off to the bathroom after realizing your bladder is about to burst.

==========

"Okay kids, today is the start of a new day! Today..we will start a new project!" You announced brightly. Since the start of the school year, you allowed the kids to slack off as a way to destress, but you realize you should be doing more to help them cope with the realities of the outbreak. And they weren't exacrly respecting your quaint classroom.

"Aw come on Miss, why are you springing this on us all of a sudden?"

"Yeah, we already got projects from other classes.."

You inhaled sharply, trying to keep your composure. "Alright listen kids, this class is supposed to allow you wind down and relax, but the way you're supposed to do that in here is through art. It's not just some hangout, it's still a classroom." You paused, looking around at the indifferent kids. "Please guys, trust me when I say this-- art is such a unique and magnificent way to express yourself. It doesn't have to be beautiful, it just has to be you."

You looked around, trying to see if you got through to the kids. Your pleading eyes landed on one girl. Ellie Miller, you thought. She gave you a small, reassuring smile. I understand you, her eyes said. You smiled back, thankful you got through one kid.

You clapped your hands, "All right, here's the project: Each of you will create a portfolio of 5 different pieces of art that represents you. You are allowed to use different media. I expect each piece to have a small paragraph explaining what it is and what your art process was." Your eyes examined the room; some kids looked interested, while others looked annoyed. You continued, "This project is due on June 1st. You will present your project. And..." You paused, waiting for dramatic effect, "I will personally select the most unique and interesting pieces to be displayed at the End-of-the-School-Year Party!" Murmurs and exciting chatter spread across like wildfire, and you mentally patted yourself on the back. "Yes, that's right, children, so you better impress me. Allow yourselves to think boldly, go above and beyond!" You giggled.

"...What if we don't have that much creativity?" One kid shyly asked. Dina, you remembered.

"Well you can come on by anytime, I'm always in this classroom until 5pm! And feel free to bother me at any point outside of class!" You replied.

She gave a quick smile, and you clocked the way Ellie peeked at her from the corner of her eyes. You were always observant of others.

"Alright everyone, get to brainstorming!" The muffled chatter and shuffling grew louder, "Feel free to ask any questions!" Hearing yourself being drowned out by the noise, you decide to stop talking.

Heh, they're finally getting it, you thought smugly. You strolled back to your desk with a noticeable pep in each step.

===========

You looked at the clock, 6:30pm it read. God, has it really been that long? You scan through today's events after you announced the project. Kids moving and talking wildly-- you practically had to kick them out of your door to get to their next class. You sighed, packing up your things and leaving the classroom. I should pick up some groceries, I don't think I have much left in the fridge. You scurried to the nearest market, tugging and pulling at your way-too-heavy bag. You roam through each aisle, getting some fruits, staring at the mouth-watering jams, before hearing a familiar voice cut through your thoughts.

"---Aw, cmon Joel. Just for a quick minute."

"No. We can't risk it."

"But---!"

"Tut-tut--- it's only been getting more dangerous out there kiddo. I'm sorry, but I won't risk it"

You shuffled the jars around and made eye contact with Ellie.

"Uh...hi again" You said nervously. Your eyes flitting from Ellie to the man she was talking to.

Your breath stutters as you finally lay eyes on the dark, brooding man standing besides Ellie. His flannel didn't mask his obnoxiously broad shoulders, in fact it framed him even better. It also didn't help that it was painfully obvious that Joel was bending down to meet your eyes through the aisle shelves, his collarbone peeking through and his eyes getting narrower. But what really drawn you to him was his gorgeous face. His smoldering, deep brown eyes staring back at you, trying to figure you out. But that didn't scare you in the slightest. His perfect wrinkles showing slightly due to his frustration only made you more attracted to this finely drawn man. His pursued lips were sitting on his face and that drew attention to the graying streaks in his mustache and beard. In fact, you started noticing the beautiful strikes of silver across each hair on his head and face. The longer you stared, the more flustered the man got. Eventually he turned away from your gaze, locking eyes with Ellie, who you completely forgot was standing there.

"Oh- I, uh- I'm sorry, it's just- I don't see you around.. um anyways.. I'm [y/n].." You embarrassingly stuttered. God, could you get any more awkward than this??? Pull yourself together, he's just a man!

"Oh well, s'nice to meet ya, Miss. I'm Joel." He nodded. You gave a quick smile and turned your attention back to Ellie, ignoring the feeling that Joel might also be staring at you a little too long. "Everything okay, Ellie? Are there any issues with the project?" You cooly asked.

"Actually, yes-- Joel won't let me venture past the gates, even if he was my chaperone."

"Well, I mean, there IS an ongoing epidemic of infectious monsters.."

"Yeah, well it's nothing I can't handle." She rolled her eyes

"What was that?" You asked quizzically

Her and Joel exchange quick glances, "Nevermind" she said, turning back to face you.

"I.. okay well, I have a garden in my backyard if you want some nature-like inspiration!" You said with enthusiasm and made jazz hands, earning a chuckle from Ellie and a slight smile from Joel. You feel odd pride and a little swell in your heart, and decide to ignore it for now.

"Yeah okay, think I can stop by this weekend?" Ellie asked

"Yeah of course honey, like I said; bother me anytime."

"She'll take you up on that offer, for sure." Joel chuckled. You looked at him adoringly, then said "If it's Ellie, it's no bother." You shot him a terrific smile that caused him to glance slightly away, and you were suddenly aware of how red he became.

"Alright--" Ellie cut in, "we're not gonna keep you any longer, teach. See ya soon!"

"Bye Ellie, bye Joel." You waved at them

You stare at the jams you pushed aside, smiling like the giddy teenage girl you once were. How far away that seemed now, after everything that happened. You snapped out of it, feeling that pain in your chest creep back up. You looked gingerly at the jams you pushed away, remembering the artistic strokes and lines of Joel's face. Oh how strong and sharp he looked. You giggled as you remembered his red face, his curled lips, his exposed collarbone, his broad shoulders. This time you didn't snap out of your sudden trance, your face getting redder at each thought you had of Joel.

Oh God, is all you can say.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Thanks for reading! Please feel free to share your thoughts or ideas, I welcome it all! Have a wonderful day :DD

#joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #yearning #just writing my fantasies #being a girl #the last of us fanfiction #Spotify

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aangarchy · 7 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/the-badger-mole/728723354757054464/how-would-you-improve-aangs-writing what are your thoughts??

So i'm not gonna keep reading this post bc it is tagged anti aang, anti kataang and a bunch of other tags i have personally blocked bc i do not like seeing posts that are actively hating on my favorite characters. Idk why you chose to send me something that is anti aang, when i am clearly an aang positive blog. Surely you're just trying to antagonize me.

I did read the first paragraph and let me tell you, boy is that blogger wrong. The question they were asked is how would you change the show's writing.

"In a word...accountability.

Aang, despite his own personal losses, never seems to grasp the gravity of the war. Season 1 would be more or less the same, but season 2 would open with him grappling with his part in the siege of the North. He would acknowledge that he was part of the reason a lot of people died that day, and it would lead into him confronting somethings about his duty, and eventually make him take his powers as the Avatar more seriously."

This is verbatim what happens in the show. The literal first episode of season 2, Aang has nightmares about him in the Avatar State. He hates feeling out of control, he's terrified of what he could do, how much damage he could cause. That's why when general Fong offers to help him master the Avatar State, Aang agrees. Fong also manipulated him, showing him wounded soldiers to tap into his empathy and get him to agree. Aang at this point understands the gravity of the war. He saw it first hand at the North Pole. Even at the seige of the north itself, Aang takes accountability for the state of the world before the battle even starts: "I wasn't there when the fire nation attacked the air temples. I'm gonna make a difference this time." Also: "he would acknowledge he was part of the reason a lot of people died that day" what at the battle of the north pole?? If anyone is responsible for the amount of death in that battle (which we don't have actual numbers of bc this is a kid's show, we know of One official death and that's Yue) it's the Fire Nation. Aang was on the defensive and fused with the Ocean Spirit while in the Avatar State. Why would he have to acknowledge or take accountability for that?

The rest of the post i just scanned over, but it was a whole lot of mumbo jumbo about Aang not deserving Katara, changing the writing so Katara would not reciprocate Aang's feelings (lol) and saying Aang should have to "work" for the Lion Turtle, as in like actively trying to find it i guess instead of it showing up like some sort of jesus?

The problem with the whole lion turtle thing is in Aang's time according to the wiki, lion turtles are supposed to be extinct. The one Aang comes across is the last one. There is no way Aang could have known that this 10.000yr old (probably older) creature was alive and willing to grant him the power of energy bending. The lion turtle came to find Aang by itself. It looked for Aang and lured him onto his back, to take Aang to the place of the final battle, and to give him the spiritual guidance he needed. Again idk how lion turtles work, are they creatures are they spirits, some secret third thing maybe (again, jesus? Idk). But they might be able to feel Aang's unrest about his destiny somehow, since the Avatar is half spirit.

Either way, i personally feel like the lion turtle is less of a deus ex machina than people are making it out to be, since the existence of lion turtles was foreshadowed in book 2, and since Aang did still have to "work" to take Ozai's bending, aka the whole "your own energy needs to be unbendable" which was still nearly Aang's undoing. He still had to fight Ozai mentally in order to overtake him, and that showed the real growth in Aang's character.

The entire post that Anon just linked is basically someone saying "i don't wike it" and changing everything up to make it arguably worse lol. Again, i think the goal was to antagonize me but whatever.

#ask dori #anon #atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #pro aang #aang #avatar aang

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pebblysand · 2 months

Text

HERE WE GO! WELCOME TO THE PAGE PALS PROJECT! THIS IS YOUR CONVERSATION STARTER FOR CHAPTER ONE. FEEL FREE TO SEND IN ASKS OR JOIN THE DISCORD FOR MORE!

HANDY LINKS/INFO:

chapter: i. out of sand (baby girl)

wordcount: 10, 157

playlist: notes here

castles FAQ: here

g e n e r a l t h o u g h t s:

I felt very emotional, beginning this chapter. There is a sense of finality in this project that I hadn't quite grasped before. This is - in all probability - the last time I read this fic. This is the last time I read this chapter. A chapter I have read dozens of times in the past few years - every time I was stuck, every time I needed to 'get back in.' Most of these paragraphs roll off the tip of my tongue when I read them out loud, because I've seen them so many times. And, I know that for you, reading this, this might not be the last time. Because you will go back, re-read this fic as many times as you like for as long as the internet exists. But I won't. That's not how my brain works, and I need to put projects behind me. To make room for new ones. And, so there is a sense of excitement, yes, reaching the end, but also a sense of grief.

If everything goes well, and if I do post the last chapter when I intend to, castles will have been four years of my life, almost to the day. COVID came and went, so did a couple of jobs, a relationship, a parent. I recently listened to an interview from Alexandre Astier where he described meeting someone in a supermarket once, who asked for an autograph for her husband. 'Ah, he's a massive fan,' she said. 'Though, to be honest, I never got into your work myself.' He was talking about how, for 'normal' people, people who aren't artists, someone else's art is just that: something that you like or don't like. But, for us, it's a part of ourselves. It's thousands of hours of work. And, sometimes, I wonder what castles says about me. What these thousands of hours have come down to. If I die tomorrow, which I hope I do not, this is one the things that I will leave behind me. And, so: what does it say about me? I mean: beyond the politics and the feminism and the quirky little interests. I mean: me, as a person. What do castles readers know about me? I'm not sure I even want to know.

t h e r e - r e a d:

I really enjoyed re-reading this chapter. It's funny to me how for you guys, depending on when you started the fic, you might have read multiple versions of this. I didn't make any big changes, nothing massive, but I did add a couple of scenes/lines here and there throughout the years, I'm curious to see whether you will notice.

in terms of the chapter itself, i think one of the things i like most about it is how it flows. it has that very distinctive castles prose to it, with the timeline that moves back and forth, the run-on sentences, the spiralling in and out of scenes. i recently got a comment on ff.net (lol) that said the chapter was messy and unreadable. and i think in a way, i like that. because frankly, if that bothers you in chapter 1, then you're probably not the right person for this fic, you know? i think chapter one serves its function well. a first chapter is supposed to be an intro, a taste of what you will read next, and i think it is perfect in that. it introduces the plot, the dynamic between the characters. it's long enough to signal that this isn't a fic where you'll read fifteen chapters in half an hour. i think you can read chapter one and tell if this is a fic you'll enjoy or not. and, that's what i want, really. that's what a first chapter should do.

having said that, i think there are two things i want to specifically dive into.

t h e h y p o:

early in the writing of castles, i used to get a lot of criticism about my version of post-war harry and ginny. particularly, there seems to be a subsection of the hinny-shipping crowd that basically thinks that harry and ginny would just meet after the war, scream at each other (or, that at least, ginny would be angry at harry for leaving her behind), kiss and make up, and pour their hearts out to each other about past events. specifically, these people believe that ginny is very good at weeding secrets out of harry, at getting him to talk, and thus the events of castles are not canon compliant with both of these characters.

i feel like objectively, it's not really my place to say whether that's correct. i think multiple versions of the same thing can be 'correct' depending on how you write them. but, if that's what floats your boat, if you have a very strong headcanon about this, then fine - by all means, go read something else (again, that's also the point of chapter 1). but i think this hypothesis sort of stuck in my head for a while, in light of the comments i was getting, because i couldn't help but wonder if that version of things isn't simply an idealised version of reality.

because, to read the books strictly: 1) ginny's anger at harry isn't obvious. you could argue it is there but she's actually quite calm in the break up scene. i am not sure she is that angry with him, especially when you think that she's just been through a war, lost a brother, etc. i think ginny is someone who knows there is a time and place for anger, and who is also incredibly strong and resilient. she still kisses him even after the break-up, after he's clearly decided to leave her behind , so i'm not sure she would lash out in these circumstances. additionally, 2) there's actually not that much evidence that harry and ginny talk to each other - ever. they're a hot and heavy thing, but they don't share much emotional stuff on screen. you can interpret the 'sunlit days' however you want, in the absence of further information, but it's not a given that ginny ever shares anything of importance about her past or her traumas, like what happened with tom. the one scene everyone always points to is the 'lucky you' scene, but that's a mutual understanding more than it is a conversation. she actually never mentions anything beyond very utilitarian details meant to help harry realise he's not being possessed. and, harry never canonically tells ginny about anything of importance in his life either.

and so what all of these comments drove me to do, a few months ago (i think i added this in september 2023) was to link that to the theme of those early chapters of castles. because one of the key elements of chapters 1-3, specifically, is this idea of the lifeline. of the way harry and ginny have spent months, at this point, idealising each other, idealising their reunion, for it to later come crashing down on them. and so i thought i would use the opportunity of chapter one to 1) try and address the 'criticism' above, and 2) make it fit within the world of castles. it led to this:

In his head, their reunion would have been something sweet, like her lips moving against his, the taste of the raspberry-flavoured lip balm she used to wear the year before. He would have confessed to all of his sins, to almost dying, to Hallows and Horcruxes, to the fear and the nightmares, to leaving her behind. ‘I’m sorry,’ he would have said. ‘I am so, so sorry.’ And, he would have tried to explain like he did last year, that all he ever wanted was to protect her, to keep her safe, and she would have yelled. Shouted at the top of her lungs in a rapid succession of angry jabs about what an arsehole he was. ‘I can take care of myself!’ she would have thrown back. ‘You left me!’ He would have looked to his feet. With time, he hopes that they would have fixed it. In reality, though, Ginny Weasley hands him a toothbrush that morning, as he sits back on his heels. Her stare digs holes into the side of his face and he wonders if, had he been Hermione or Luna (had he been a friend, still), she would have cajoled him. Handed him a wet towel for his forehead. Instead, she closes the door behind her on her way out. ‘You should shower,’ she says.

i love the sort of whiplash effect this scenes gives, of the fantasy v. post-war reality, which is obviously a massive theme in castles. and i also love the way it subtly signals that ginny might have changed (just like he has) throughout the war. because, obviously, she has, and we later find out why.

s e x a n d f u n e r a l s:

i cannot express how attached i am to that scene, and to that line in particular. i think there's a number of reasons for this:

first, it's the line that basically motivated me to start castles for real in 2020. i have said this before in other posts but i started drafting some sort of post-war hinny fic as early as 2007. i never finished anything, then when i was 17 (2010), i did a re-read and actually drafted something new. then dropped it again. and, that file transferred from laptop to laptop, from file to file for ten years without me touching it much. until covid came and i was looking through my drive, and i tenderly read what 17-year-old me had written back then, including this 'first time' sex scene which, to be honest, has mostly remained untouched in the final version of this. and, i remember finding it, reading it, and thinking the rest of what i had written was a bit cringe, but that one scene seemed to work. and then, i got to the (now famous) line: to him, the spring of '98 is about sex and funerals, and thought fuck, that's a good line. like, a really good line. and i didn't want to let it go to waste. and, so, four years later, here we are.

i think that line is a very good symbol of what this story is about. 'sex and funerals' - it's a metaphor for how life is about the good and the bad things. that they co-exist as one single entity, and that the beauty of what we do, of the way we live, resides somewhere in between. it's why i chose it as the summary back then, and why it is still the summary now. i really built the entire fic around that line. so, yeah, 17-year-old jo, you already had something going for you, darling.

l a s t l y:

a thought i had while re-reading (and please don't come at me for this), is that... this could have been a one-shot. like, it really could have. i finished chapter 1 and there's a sort of finality to it, isn't there? like, i'm glad i continued this fic, but part of me thinks that all i've been trying to say in the past four years actually is in this chapter. obviously, not as detailed or subtle, but it's there, you know? it could have been a one-shot, lmao.

but anyway, i'm curious, did you guys enjoy your re-read? did you notice the changes i made throughout the years? did you enjoy them? feel free to send me an ask or join the discord server to discuss. i'm so excited to get this discussion started and hear your thoughts!

#castles #chapter 1 #and so it begins

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bun-z-bakery · 5 days

Text

A/N: it's here, detective Vanessa is here 😭 sorry for taking so long, I'll also post the Masterlist for this one in a bit. Again sorry if the paragraphs are weird! Tumblr doesn't like notes app I guess. Edit: I forgot I could link things to text lol I link the masterlist to this also I forgot to note but the reader is fem but uses GN language :3

CW: gang activities

The shadow that follows (1)

Winchester, England 1914

You always admired the views of the city once night fell. It's beautiful, but you're not out to admire her beauty.

Wherever you went, things seemed to vanish alongside you. Valuable items seem to love you as much as you love them and you just so happen to be one of the many reasons people lock their doors a little bit tighter at night.

The window you were working on finally gave you that satisfying click you love hearing time and time again. Slowly opening it, you quietly make your way in.

The only thing illuminating the area was the moonlight that crept through the windows.

Unfortunately for the owners, you've seen this house before, and you know you're way around.

Most people take to hiding items in obscure places no one would usually check. Unfortunately for them, you know all the tricks in the book.

A smile creeps onto your face once you finally get your hands on what you were sent out for.

You leave as quietly as you entered. without a trace.

‧₊ ๑˚.・

"You were sloppy and look!"

Your boss, Agnes, scolds you as she holds a newspaper to your face.

A dimly lit photo of a figure was on the cover. That figure was you. You were caught. You know you should be more concerned, but it'll never cease to amaze you how quickly news gets out.

"I didn't notice anyone following me!"

You protest if anyone found out about your gang you would all be jailed...or worse.

"Boss? What about that guy that they found?..."

Asher, the other member reminded you of the recent arrest.

"He wasn't one of ours. But it doesn't matter. Leave no trace behind, remember?"

Agnes reminds you both as if it wasn't ingrained in your brains.

"Oh, and I'm sure your fingerprints are memorable!"

Asher motions to you, making you sigh in annoyance.

"This wouldn't have happened if that senseless journalist hadn't been there!"

You explain in defense, you haven't gotten caught before, so why worry now?

"Look, they've even given you a name too! 'The shadow stalker!'"

Agnes teased as she pointed to the newspaper with a smirk on her face. It's clear she's proud of how much you've grown, but she's too prideful to admit it. Asher laughs and points to you

"Congratulations! You have finally found your alias now! Embrace it."

They both laugh, this situation makes you angry, all of you are supposed to be seen as a threat that lurks on the streets at night. Some even thought you four were ghosts who roamed the streets.

Now people know you're not some unstoppable force, but rather a masked criminal who moves within the shadows.

"Right well, I'm heading to bed."

You rise from your chair and wave your goodbyes to everyone.

"You're on for tomorrow night again! Don't let me down!"

Agnes shouted from the common room.

Once you make it to your room you plop yourself onto your bed, not bothering to change.

Your roommate, Elaine, was already fast asleep. You envy how fast she's able to drift off. Tomorrow will serve as your redemption, but your nerves made sure you got little to no rest.

‧₊ ๑˚.・

"Fang Reaper, Shadow Stalker. Don't.Screw.This.Up."

Agnes scolds the two of you for the 5th time tonight.

The plan was rather simple; retrieve what your client requested and leave no trace behind.

A few officers lurked around the area which meant you need to work fast.

"We heard ya the first 40 times! "

Elaine groans before you both make your way to the jewelry store.It didn't take long before you could open the door. Cautiously you two make your way in.

"I'll be on watch."

She whispers and you nod.

The store was spotless, all the jewels, watches, and any other valuables were locked or hidden away. You've been to this store many times to "browse", of course, it didn't take long to find what you two were sent here for.

"Um, Shadow stalker?"

Elaine whispers as she crouches by the door, your attention is elsewhere as you try to pry open the out-of-place floorboard with your tools.

"Officer!"

She runs and grabs you, leading you to the back of the store. The back door was locked, but you were quick on your feet and pointed at a place for her to hide.

She makes her way to the spot while you hide near the small staircase that leads up to the second floor.

You both do your best to silence your breathing as the owner walks in, two figures follow behind him.

"And you're sure you didn't forget to lock it, sir?"

The officer asks as she uses her flashlight to look around the store. You two were well hidden and from where they were standing, they couldn't see you, especially in the leg-cramping position you're in.

"I'm telling you, it's them!"

He tries to plead with them. Unfortunately, your eavesdropping was interrupted by Elaine tapping on your shoulder.

"We gotta go!"

She pointed to the now unlocked back door. Now was your chance. You can leave without raising any attention to yourselves.

"Would you mind sharing more of this... Shadow stalker?"

A third voice catches your attention. Everything around you feels slower, but it wasn't time that was frozen.

"Psst!"

Elaine calls to you from outside, waving to hurry up. You hesitated

I'm going to regret this...

You pull out your notepad and a pen, the gloves make it hard to maneuver. You can feel Elaine's eyes piercing through your soul as you write.

'I'll watch you from the shadows, detective.

-Shadow Stalker'

You quickly make your way out, leaving the note behind where they'd find it.

"Y/N what the hell was that?!"

Elaine whispers as you two run from the failed heist scene.

"Agnes is going to kill us!"

She yells at you once you two have made it far enough from the scene.

‧₊ ๑˚.・

"So you failed?"

Asher laughs and covers his mouth. The four of you made it back home undetected, but your failure wasn't something you were proud of.

"Well, we were almost caught, a stupid officer and a detective came sniffing around!"

You say defensively as you cross your arms.He lights a cigarette and takes a puff, blowing smoke in your direction. You cough dramatically and wave the smoke away.

"You're not helping..."

You slouch in the chair and groan in anger, it's hard to have someone who sees where you're coming from when the person you're speaking to is a murderer who covers your tracks.

He takes another hit of his cigarette before standing.

"Kid, you're good at what you do."

He pauses, taking one last hit before putting out his cigarette.

"You should eat and get some rest."

He pats your shoulder and makes his way out of the common room.

"AND NO MORE LEAVIN' NOTES!"

He shouts from afar, you groan in frustration, your head falls into your hands.

All of them knew of your note, but only you knew what it read.

It was a stupid mistake you'd surely pay for later on. You weren't sure what even compelled you to do so, but you still did it.

You kick the air in rage and cry into your hands.

You didn't get to speak to her, she doesn't know who you are, and she's here to put you behind bars...

But you couldn't help but try to shake this strange feeling.

#vanessa shelly x reader #fnaf au #detective vanessa x reader #fanfic #detective x thief #slow burn #bun z writes #Vanessa shelly x y/n #vanessa shelly x fem!reader #echoes of deception

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fbfh · 1 year

Text

rocks at your window pt 5 - ricky bowen x reader

disclaimer: this series contains smut and chapter by chapter warnings, so as with all nsfw works, ricky is aged up to 18 and he and reader are both 18 and in their senior year!!

additioanlly we're working towards a ricky x therapy plot, so as the series goes on he'll start expressing more symptoms of mental illness and bpd, and he gets worse before he gets better. also obviously i'm not a professional and this is for entertainment purposes only, I have done research but PLEASE take this with a grain of salt or several.

!! contains spoilers for season 1 of hsmtmts and previous chapters of this fic !!

wc: 7.8k

genre: slice of life, hurt/comfort, smut

pairing: ricky bowen x (afab she/her) reader

warnings: actually proof read thanks cici, anti nini/nini being a pick me, one sided angsty gina pining, reader has professional theatre experience, brief vague mention of your parents marriage falling apart, carlos is struggling, a few paragraphs of ricky spiraling about his mom/wondering if she ever loved them, ricky has some flashbacks about that, nini is a self centered bitch, nini writes sad songs about heartbreak in her little mitchie's song book, reader was in matilda annie and hairspray when she was younger (unspecified as to who), one good boy, a GRATUITUOUS amout of titties/nip play, partially clothed sex, cockwarming/cum plugging, subby boarderline puppy boy ricky, ricky's in subspace a little bit with you, cuddling as aftercare, ricky's mommy issues are so bad (sorry freud), slowburn red x ashlyn, nini is an unprofessional menace

summary: after a fun, only somewhat chaotic photoshoot, you're gearing up for the blocking of when there was me and you, until rehearsal grinds to a halt with the release of some troubling news. ricky finds solace in your arms once again, and is enamored with the way you always know how to solve whatever problems are thrown your way.

song recs: I can't handle change - roar, truth justice and songs in our key - hsmtmts cast, you're my world - atlas

a/n: I finished the second half of this in like a day because I was so anxious about a check up because I hate medical stuff but the chapter's done and it went well. I'm getting my wisdom teeth out next week so I'll probably be so busy distracting myself from that I knock out like 5 more chapters /hj

anyway this was supposed to be short and it's almost 10k cause I have no self control lol anyway ENJOY <333

tags: @yesv01 @afidiofobia @aliyahsutherland @hopefullhearts @pikzel @demirunner @matiere-detoiles @ifilwtmfc @uselesssapphickitten @nxstalgicnxbxdy @ggclarissa @n-slayaaaaa @stormi-ames

You exit the girls dressing room, running towards Seb, who just left the boys dressing room.

"Oh my god!" You exclaim, floored by his costume. It's pink and sparkly, and fits perfectly - even the heels. It's everything he was imagining.

"I know!" He replies, matching your energy perfectly. You’re so happy that Seb loves his costume. Miss Jenn even added in a subplot and solo about Ryan finding himself beyond being Sharpay’s brother. He’s absolutely killing this role, breathing new life into it, and you couldn’t be happier for him. He’s still a little nervous, so you and your friends are making sure to hype him up.

You hear it before you see him, a hush falls over the room as everyone on stage around you falls silent. Someone tries (and fails) to hold back a loud snicker while a few people gasp.

“Alright, let’s do this!”

You turn around at the familiar sound of Ricky’s voice, and he’s happy he got your attention. He’s met with a myriad of reactions at the questionably styled wig, but he only cares about yours. He’s only looking for yours. He gives you a look, a little quirk of his eyebrow that silently asks what you think. You smile radiantly, overjoyed to see him in costume for the first time. You feel like a mother sending her kids off to the first day of school. You have the urge to get pictures before the day is over.

Standing downstage of you, Nina stares at him with her mouth open in a dramatic gasp, eyes following him as you move closer to each other.

“Oh… my… god. There is so much to talk about.” She says. She watches Ricky closely, waiting for some kind of reaction to her words, but his eyes are glued on you. She tries again, letting out another very loud laugh, “I literally can’t even.”

“I think he looks great!” you say with a sincere bubbling smile. You reach up, adjusting the alignment of his wig, the way the hair falls. He’s sure it looks much better than it had when he’d tried to put it on by himself. You tug gently on his hoodie strings, making them even lengths. He watches you closely while you do. He loves the feeling of you fixing his hair and clothes, he wishes there were more things for you to fix. You smile up at him, and irritation prickles in Nina’s chest at how close you are to him.

“You gotta get the hair flip down,” you say, jerking your head to the side in example. He follows your lead, copying the gesture, and you go back and forth like that for a minute, quoting Troy Bolton and making each other laugh. Your eyes widen as realization strikes.

"Oh my god, I know what this reminds me of…" you gasp, pulling out your phone to search for something, “I’ll text it to you.”

"Okay…" Ricky chuckles, smiling in anticipation and watching you type. You glance up when you hear Carlos telling Seb how amazing he looks. You pause typing and walk a few feet closer to them.

"I know, he looks fucking amazing!" You say with a radiant smile, and Carlos thoroughly agrees.

Spotting an opening, Gina makes her way over to Ricky.

"Wow," she says with a smile, really taking him in. "You look great, Ricky." Just as she’s working up the nerve to playfully nudge him on the arm, he smiles, motioning over to where you’re talking to Carlos and Seb.

“Yeah, she said the exact same thing,” he smiles, greeting you as you walk back over, “Gina agrees with you.”

“I know!” you smile, radiant, “Not a lot of people can pull off the whole 2007 Mitchel Musso look, but you’re really making it work.”

His heart pounds when you talk like that. Your words, your praise, your attention give him a sort of high he’s never felt from anyone else before. He craves it, and he always craves it more than he expects to.

“You think so?” he asks. Part of him knows he’s fishing for your attention, but the sweet look you give him, so excited to see him in costume for the first time makes it worth it.

“Yes!” you exclaim, vibrancy rubbing off on him, “You look fantastic, Ricky.”

His heart pounds loud in his chest, cheeks flushing at your words. Behind you, Gina’s stomach sinks. Old feelings of discouragement get more and more stirred up inside her the longer she stands there, watching the way he looks at you. It’s almost too much to bear by the time she cuts her losses, making up an excuse about getting something from her bag that she’s not sure either of you hear.

Nina watches this, her gaze flicking between you and Gina. A gross feeling coats her stomach. She expected to stay friends with Ricky, expected to still be close to him. More importantly she didn’t expect so many girls to just throw themselves at him. It’s disrespectful. It’s disrespectful to how long they were together. She and Ricky have been friends since kindergarten, they have history. They’ve known each other forever, and… it’s just funny, she thinks, that you and Gina think you can just swoop in and replace her like that. Before she can fester in this feeling much longer, Big Red has everyone line up.

“Okay, Chad,” he calls, pointing stage left, “Taylor, Troy, Gabriella, Sharpay, Ryan… good.”

Everyone gets lined up and spaced out correctly, as Red lines up the shot.

“Jump on the count of three.” he states, and begins to count down. The sound of everyone’s feet hitting the floor at very different times echoes through the auditorium. Red squints at the result on camera, which is nothing short of a complete mess.

“Wait, what happened?” he mutters.

“Where to begin.”

“Where do I start…”

You and Ricky say at the same time. You lean forward a little to share a look, a silent conversation exchange you both understand, both of you leaning past Nina to do so. She looks between you for that split second, then Ricky gets right back in line without even looking at her.

“I think you went early,” Seb says to you.

“Wait,” Gina interjects, “are we jumping on three or after three?”

“Yeah, the count of three. Ready?” Red replies, doing nothing to clear up the confusion.

“Red,” you say, and he looks up at you. Ricky watches you with a little smile, knowing you’ll no doubt know exactly what to do to get things back on track. “Are we jumping on the third or fourth beat?”

“Third,” he says, like it should be obvious, “on the count of three.” You nod, and turn to the others. “It’s one two jump.” you clarify, hopping as you do so to demonstrate. Your hair bounces and your skirt flounces and your heels make a little clicky noise as you land, and Ricky thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. He’s ready to try again, now fully confident the photos will turn out perfect thanks to you. Next to you, Seb lets out a puff of air.

“I think I broke a heel…” he says, and you turn to take a look. Something itches at the corner of your mind, then it clicks.

“Hold on, I saw some glue back here somewhere…” Red flashes you a thumbs up as you run into the wings, searching for the bottle of gorilla glue you remember seeing earlier. After digging around in the stage right wing for a minute, you see it on a shelf, next to what looks like a bucket of old paint. You stretch up as far as you can, but even in these heels, you can’t reach it. Before you look around to see if there’s something you can knock it down with, you turn back to the stage.

“Ricky?” you call. He looks over at the sound of your voice like a puppy, scurrying over to you without a second thought.

“Yeah?” he smiles. You point up to where the glue is.

“I found it up there, but I can’t…”

“Oh, I got it.” he smiles, touching your arm. He reaches up and hands you the mostly full bottle. You thank him, squeezing his arm appreciatively.

“Thank god you’re tall,” you chuckle. His chest puffs up at your words, a soft heat creeping up to his cheeks. He watches you as you and Kourtney fix Seb’s shoe, how cute you look when you’re focused.

“There,” you state, “as long as the glue holds…” Seb puts his heel back on, and does a few test jumps. The glue seems to hold, and Kourtney sends you back in line, adjusting one last part of Seb’s costume. You type something into your phone, texting it to Ricky as you head back to the front of the stage. Ricky catches the last half of what Carlos is saying. He’s clearly frustrated at the lack of productivity.

“...You leave the earth, you land.”

“We just need to get back on the same page,” you say. Ricky pulls out his phone at the familiar sound of your ringtone he set. You must have sent him the thing you remembered. As he passes by, Nina sees your name at the top of his phone, framed by hearts. His screen is full of texts between you, but the last text Nina sent him got left on read? Ricky never leaves her on read. She scoffs at how oblivious he is to your blatant attempts to steal his attention from her.

“Uh,” she says loudly, a performative smile on her face as she holds back a laugh when he gets closer to her, “I can’t look at Ricky, is that a problem?”

He doesn’t look up, instead he looks at the text you sent him. It’s an image accompanied by the caption ‘you today’, and when it finally loads, he recognizes it instantly as a gif from the Elijah Wood ‘will you wear wigs’ interview. It catches him by surprise, and a loud screaming laugh tears from his throat. It’s so sudden, so sincere it brings a laugh out of you too. Everyone else either starts laughing with you, or looks completely shocked.

He slaps a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the noise without much success. A smug satisfaction settles over Nina before Ricky starts to type something into his phone. He starts laughing again, tucking his phone back in his pocket, and when he shares a look with you she realizes it wasn’t her that made him laugh like that. It doesn’t sit well with her. You’re biting your lip, trying in vain not to laugh too loudly or obviously while everyone stares at the two of you, small chuckles echoing through the room.

“Okay.” Carlos says curtly, very clearly done with this bullshit, “Let’s take five.”

“Thank you, five.” you say automatically, and Ricky puts his hand on your back as you start to walk offstage to get some water.

“On five or after five?” he mutters, basking in the laugh you let slip out. Behind you, Nina lets out a shrill laugh at the comment, clapping her hands together in a way she’s sure will get Ricky’s attention. Her smile grows stale and evaporates as you sit next to each other without looking back once.

“So, why are you supposed to say thank you five?” Ricky asks as you take a sip from your water bottle, today filled with lemon and cucumber slices.

“It’s a call and response so the crew knows you got their instructions.” you say. He nods, and you continue, “You usually say it after a break is announced, when places are called, when they tell you how long until curtain, that kind of thing.” you conclude. Your knowledge about theatre never fails to amaze him. Hearing you talk about it makes him want to learn even more.

“When I was in Annie it seemed like something technical was always going wrong, so the call times were all over the place. It was a hot mess, but it was still so fun.” You reminisce with a smile. That’s not the first show you mentioned you’ve been in, Ricky recalls. He can tell you have… probably the most experience of anyone here, but he doesn’t think he’s ever asked how many shows you’ve been in. He would have remembered if you told him.

“How many shows have you been in?” he asks, watching your expression carefully.

“Uh…” you look over to where your castmates sit scattered about, then back to Ricky. You give him that look that means you have something to tell him when it’s just the two of you. “A lot. It’s a long story, though, I’ll tell you later.” You finish in a hushed voice. He loves when you talk to him like that, he loves the closeness between you in these moments.

You know you should probably mention you used to do professional theatre in New York before you moved here, but you always hesitate to bring it up. The last thing you want to do is sound like one of those theatre kids. Besides, you haven’t been in the professional circuit since middle school. You stopped in between shows a few years back when your parents' marriage got really bad and your dad left, and you couldn’t exactly perform while moving across the country, but you’re so deeply glad to be back in theatre now that you’re settled in.

Your mom was also worried about how much pressure was on you, being in a professional environment so young. She promised you that after you graduate, once you’re older, she’ll drive you all the way back to New York herself if you still want to do theatre professionally by then. You couldn’t argue with her, it was a lot to deal with that young, and your shitty dad didn’t make it much easier. She’s been able to watch the joy return, see your face light up when you tell her about how rehearsal is going, the progress you and the cast and crew are making, and you can’t deny she made the right call.

You think it’s good for you to act just because you love it for a while. You want the full suburban high school theatre experience, so if that means keeping a low profile and not being one of those douchebags who always brags about “doing professional shows” then you’re happy to keep that under wraps, but as you watch Ricky’s face while he rambles to you about how much more fun it is to be in costume than he expected, you feel like you can tell him. He knows you well enough to know your intentions, know that you’re not bragging about it.

At their next rehearsal, Red is relieved at how relieved Ricky seems.

“It worked! I just… I really made sure she knows how much I like her, and…” Ricky laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Thank you, for the advice, bro.” he lets out another bubbling chuckle, his mind clearly somewhere else. Red squints, wondering if it means what he thinks it means.

“Did you guys…” he starts slowly, not even needing to finish the sentence. The flustered look on Ricky’s face is the only answer he needs.

“Uh…” he says through yet another flustered laugh, the feeling of your mouth around him, the way you taste still fresh in his mind. He locks eyes with you from across the room, and feels his pulse speed up. “Yeah. I’ll fill you in later.”

Red playfully punches Ricky’s arm.

“I’m glad it went well! Cause I care about you, but also because I live vicariously through you.” They both laugh.

“Believe me, there’s plenty to catch you up on.” Ricky says, a wistful smile on his face, watching you talk to Natalie.

“Maybe we should get started. Or at least start warming up.” you say. Everyone’s wondering why Miss Jenn and Carlos aren’t there yet. You can sense her hesitance. It's not surprising, this show is new territory for almost everyone.

"You're the stage manager, you're third in command when Miss Jenn and Carlos aren't here. Why don’t you and Seb get everyone warming up, that way when they get here we can jump right in.” you offer, and she nods, gaining a little confidence.

“Yeah, you’re right.” she says, walking over to Seb, who’s sitting at the piano. You’re sure the only thing Miss Jenn and Carlos would hate more than starting rehearsal late is wasting time, especially with how tight of a schedule you’re on. Natalie and Seb are discussing said warmups when Carlos enters in a hurry, clearly frazzled, announcing that Miss Jenn won’t be here. One look past his chipper facade and you know whatever’s going on his bad.

“Miss Jenn had a… small personal matter to attend to, and won’t be here today.” in spite of the confidence he’s trying to project, you can see right through it. You’re sure the others can too.

“Is everything alright?” Nina asks, only now noticing that Carlos seems off. He laughs a forced casual laugh.

“Everything is fine.” he says, trying to convince himself, and you know that this is really bad. The next few minutes are spent arranging the blocking for when there was me and you. He introduces it as a forest of boys, and you think it could work really well if you execute it right. Instead of a giant poster of the basketball team to sing to, something in a tableau style will translate much better to the stage. It’s dynamic and expressive, while still making the same point, keeping the integrity of the message made in the movie. It’s also vaguely reminiscent of when Meg sings to the statues and the muses in Hercules, which adds to the whole Disney magic feeling. Overall you think it’s a great plan.

You’re about to express this, when you hear an all too familiar voice pipe up.

“Uh, Troy just broke Gabriella’s heart,” you resist the urge to roll your eyes, having a feeling you know where this is going, and Nina continues, "why would she want to see four more versions of him?"

You're somehow still shocked that she not only can't recognize that her character would handle a breakup differently than she would, but now she's trying to change a fundamental point in the show for no reason. Ashlyn, Kourtney, and even Natalie jump in and agree with her. This isn't the first time Nini has used her character as a thin veil to talk shit, and you're amazed at how bad she is at treating Gabriella like a character she's playing. For someone who wanted the lead so badly, she doesn't seem to care too much about it now. In all your years of acting, you don't think you've ever seen someone so unable to create a distinction between what they would do and what their character would do, and it’s very fucking weird.

Before she gets literally everyone else to agree with her, you jump in.

"Actually, I love this, Carlos. I think it’s really dynamic and effective without taking away from the song. Also," you turn to Nina, "it was 2006, so girlbossing your way through heartbreak wasn't really a thing. Plus, you're right; she did get her heart broken, she should be allowed to be sad about it."

"Yeah," Ricky agrees, looking over at you when you speak, "totally dynamic." He loves the way you talk about theatre, how brilliantly you analyze details or staging and character interpretations. He wishes he could hear you talk more about it, and makes a mental note to pick your brain later.

Nina looks at you, mouth agape, as Carlos gestures to you. Another perfect example of Ricky following you around like a lost puppy.

"Thank you, Sharpay, exactly." Carlos states as Nina scoffs, shocked at your response. He lets out a small sigh, grateful for the backup. "Gabriella is heartbroken, she can't stop thinking about Troy, about the guy she thought he was."

Ricky walks back over to his seat to set down his script. He leans down close to you before he does, wanting your opinion before he shares the idea he got.

"Maybe she could do, like, an acoustic guitar version. You know, strip it down." His voice is quiet, meant only for the two of you. You smile at him with such warmth before your gaze flickers to Nina. You hum, considering.

"I think you're the only one who could pull off an acoustic guitar ballad in the middle of such a… high energy show." A small, knowing laugh is shared between you, and as every kind word from your mouth does, your message comes across loud and clear, bringing a warmth to his cheeks and a puff to his chest. A rush of good happy chemicals hits his brain. As he heads back to his box, he ruminates on the sentiment. Not only do you think he could totally pull it off, you think he’s the only one who could. He fights a smile, trying to pay attention to the suggestions everyone starts giving Carlos.

“Or,” Kourtney jumps in, “she could be surrounded by a forest of supportive sisters.” she shares a look with Nina, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. You hope it’s not only obvious to you that no one’s even really talking about the show anymore. A few other girls agree, and you can tell Carlos is losing patience. You walk across the room to check on him when he snaps.

“Okay, guys, this is not a democracy!” he yells, hands falling to his side before one rests on his hip, the other pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Are you okay?” you ask, sincere and quiet, but not cloying, with a situationally appropriate level of concern on your face.

“Look, it’s not that deep,” Nina says, and you’re glad she’s finally backpedaling - or at least trying to - even though it took her this fucking long to realize she should. “We can just wait till Miss Jenn comes back and-”

“Well, she’s not here, and I don’t know if she’s ever coming back!” Carlos spits, relieved to finally get the distressing information off his chest.

Ricky’s stomach sinks, and he’s met once again with that disgusting cold feeling frying his nerves. It’s been a while since he had felt it this strong, this fresh. There were bad moments, sure. Like when he caught the family portrait of the three of them in the laundry room. He felt so sick looking at his mom’s smile. It seemed so genuine, and he hasn’t been able to stop questioning its integrity since. He’s spent every spare moment he’s not thinking about you or the show reanalyzing every conversation, every interaction, every passive aggressive remark and dish towel thrown too hard against the counter top, trying desperately to figure out if hers was the face of a housewife slowly losing her sense of self, unsupported, taken for granted and growing resentful, finally pushed to the edge.

Or did she never love them to begin with? Was everything out of obligation? Did she make him tea when he was sick or stressed or sad because she wanted to or because she had to? Maybe she loved them at some point, when he was too little to remember it clearly, or even know what he was supposed to be looking for. Old memories flood back, and he finds himself scouring them for a time when her tea might have started tasting different. Maybe that’s when she stopped loving him. Loving them.

He’s dragged into the undertow without warning, breath knocked out of his lungs by the force of it all, by the spike of anxiety that shoots up and stays there at the thought of Miss Jenn leaving.

“Wait, what?” he manages to choke out after that split second of spiraling, his stomach churning. Your hand finds and grabs on tight to his before he even speaks. You’re next to him in an instant, and he latches onto you, for once feeling like he has a buoy in this relentless sudden storm he always seems to get dragged into. Right when he thinks it’s going to be okay, right when he starts to get a handle on everything, he’s knocked off his feet.

You hold his hand with both of yours as he steps off his box, tighter and warmer and more reassuring than anything, and you rub your thumb against his skin while Carlos begins to tell you guys everything that’s going on. You listen with rapt attention, while keeping a close eye on Ricky. Everything is deteriorating so fast, and soon Nina grabs her backpack, storming to the exit and claiming she ‘needs a minute’. Kourtney follows her, then everyone else, and you feel Ricky’s hand shake in yours. His breaths get quicker as he watches everyone around him, his castmates, his friends, leave without a second thought.

“Rehearsals are officially canceled until further notice!” Carlos calls out, before leaving, defeated and fighting tears.

You continue to brush your hand over Ricky’s. The gesture is comforting.

“Well,” Gina says, grabbing her bag, “that fell apart fast.”

“Nothing fell apart.” you and Ricky say at the same time, yours sure and deliberate, his desperate to be true. Gina lets out a singular breathy laugh, unable to ignore how in sync the both of you are.

“Everything’s going to be okay. We’ll work this out.” you state, and Ricky latches onto your words, how assured you seem, throwing himself and all the belief within him that you’re right.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “it’s all going to be okay.”

Gina’s stomach twists at the way he repeats your words.

“Do you know something I don’t?” she asks Ricky. You send her a look, clearly asking what the fuck. Before you can call her out, Ricky jumps in.

“She’s Miss Jenn. She’s unstoppable. The whole show’s unstoppable.”

“But, what if-” she ignores your glares, demanding she knock it off. “What if it does stop?”

Ricky squeezes your hand tighter.

“Gina-” you say, a warning tone to your voice.

“Let’s not go there…” he says, a begging tone to his voice.

“Yeah,” you agree, “let’s not.” You turn back to Ricky, your free hand resting on his arm, rubbing gently. He wants to cry - both at the situation you’re both struggling to deal with, and the catharsis, the comfort he feels when you touch him like this.

“The show must go on.” You say firmly, “There’s no chance something as trivial as a mistake on Miss Jenn’s resume is enough to do any actual harm to the show.” there’s a light chuckle to your voice, one that he mirrors.

“Yeah,” he agrees, needing you to continue, which you do.

“When I was in Matilda when I was younger, the entire basement full of props got flooded the week of opening night.”

His eyes widen in concern, and you continue.

“Everything was soggy, and completely covered in mildew by the time we got back to the theater. You know what we did?” you ask Ricky rhetorically, who’s looking at you so intensely, hanging on your every word. “We paired down. We went for an abstract, minimalistic set design. Even threw in some shadow play for effect until the props and sets were all fixed.”

“Really?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you state, “and the critics loved it. They were raving about how genius it was, a brilliant way to showcase Matilda’s imagination and view of the world around her.” you say, quoting one of the more memorable reviews.

“So,” you say with a new lightheartedness to your voice brought on by the anecdote, “the point is, everything will be fine.” your sincerity is palpable, and you watch as he lets out a small, shallow breath. Gina doesn’t miss the way he relaxes when you put your hand back on his shoulder, the way he mirrors your expressions and body language and words without even realizing. He’s beginning to calm down from the worst possible news they could have gotten just because he’s with you.

“Y’know what?” she says, swallowing the lump in her throat, “I’m gonna head out, so…” she points toward the door. Ricky glances up, then back at you.

“Get home safe.” you say with a polite wave before continuing to reassure him. You talk a little more, and you’re relieved that you can see he’s starting to feel better. The distraction is helping him, you realize, as you stroll around the empty theater hand in hand. “Why don’t you show me that guitar version of when there was me and you?” He laughs nervously.

“I don’t know…” he mutters. A hint of concern flashes over your face. If he doesn’t even want to play guitar, it must be really bad.

“C’mon, pretty please?” you say, causing butterflies to swirl in his chest, “I want to hear it stripped down, and you’re so good at guitar…”

He lets out a flustered laugh, butterflies fluttering in his chest as he accepts the guitar you hand him, taking a seat. You watch him attentively as he begins playing the first chords, humming along.

In the hallway, a few feet away from the door, Nina sighs.

She can’t bring herself to walk away, not this time, not when she knows he’s probably wallowing, waiting for her. Letting out a loud, dramatic sigh, she decides to be the bigger person. She turns and walks back to the rehearsal room, hovering in the doorway when she hears familiar strumming. She watches Ricky, his back to her while he plays. She starts to enter the room, pausing when she sees that he’s singing to someone. Not just anyone, but you. You’re looking at him fondly, chin resting in your hand. She doesn’t have time to roll her eyes before you start singing along, noting how his voice stops shaking when yours mingles with his.

She’s having the worst day ever, EJ keeps texting her, and there’s Ricky, serenading you. She can’t even talk to him alone for five minutes without you hovering. She feels sick. She hates this, hates the way you ogle at him. She should be the one in there, the one duetting with him.. She’s known him since kindergarten for god’s sake, she has the right to comfort him. Tears welling up in her eyes, she storms off, pulling her song book from her backpack to pour everything into its pages. She’s ready to fill it with songs of betrayal and heartbreak.

After some more singing, wandering around, and examining old props from former shows, you and Ricky find yourselves on a stiff couch that’s been hidden in the back of the prop room for ages. Just being around props, costumes, old playbills and other paraphernalia makes Ricky feel better. There’s a restorative quality in theaters he never knew about until now. It’s like he can pretend that nothing is different than it was yesterday, like everything is still the same.

“Can… can we just stay here for a while?” he asks, hugging a basketball and leaning into you.

“Yeah,” you say softly, “‘course. As long as you want.” you press a kiss to the top of his head, and you both settle deeper into the couch, rough woven texture rubbing against your arms. He rests his head on your shoulder while you play with his hair, telling him more stories from your time in Matilda. Most notably how nice the person who played Miss Trunchbull was, and how tangled everyone’s hair was from being teased and styled so much. It smelled more like hairspray than when you were actually in Hairspray.

You trace shapes on his back while you talk. His breath is warm on your neck, and he can smell your perfume, the same peachy perfume you wore to homecoming. He’s flooded with memories of how beautiful you were that night, how you touched him, how you tasted. He lets out a soft sigh at the memory. He’s craving more than holding you, he needs to be closer, needs more. He needs to be inside you. He gives a fleeting thought to your location; it’s late, and he’s sure no one will come sniffing around the prop room in the guts of the theatre department. It’s enough justification for him, and he indulges his desires, beginning to press kisses to your face and neck. He grabs at your waist, drawing an anticipatory giggle. The noise soothes him, and he wants more.

“I-” he tries not to let his voice waver, but you know him so well by now it’s impossible to hide, “...just need you close. Need you with me.” he sighs into your skin, desperate for your smell, your touch, you you you. You rub his back, your touch so cathartic it makes him want to cry.

“I’m not going anywhere, Ricky.” you state gently, and he latches onto your words, wanting desperately to believe them. You pull him in to kiss you more, and he shoves his tongue past your lips, sighing into your mouth at how much better he already feels from that alone. He was right, he really does just need to be inside you, be as close to you as possible.

He climbs on top of you as you lace your hands through his hair, embracing the taste of your tongue against his. He lets out a shuddering sigh as you place your soft thigh between his, and he grinds against you, unable to stop his hips from rutting into you. He whines at how good it feels, how much better you make him feel. He tugs at the waistband of your pants, and you smile a little at how eager he is for you. You reach into a pocket deep in your bag, zipped up tight, to grab a condom while he makes quick work of shimmying both your pants down.

“Will- will you put it on for me?” he whines quietly into your neck, and you nod, humming and running your hand through his hair in response.

He’s already moaning and you’ve barely started to put it on. He’s so needy, so desperate for you that it brings a smile to your face. You can’t deny how cute you find it. He pushes into you, trying not to go too fast, and the air is knocked from both your lungs as he works his way deeper into your wet, welcoming cunt. He fucks you needy and desperate, whining cutely like a little puppy as he humps into you. He grinds his pelvis against your clit, needing to be closer to you, and the noises you let out are like a warm shower after a long day.

“F-fuck, Ricky, just like that… good boy…”

He speeds up, whining and panting into your mouth as you praise him, and he feels little tears begin to prick at the corners of his eyes. Both for how fucking bad today has been, and how fucking good you make him feel. Your touch, your words, the way you call him a good boy and reassure him as he tries to pull you closer to him even though you’re already as close as you can possibly get, it’s all so addictive. You’re so wet; tighter and warmer and more reassuring around him than anything. You feel so soothing, like aloe on a sunburn, and he wants more and more and more of it.

The head of his cock keeps rubbing against that spongy part inside you, drawing out more gasps and moans, more noises that make his heart pound. He can’t get enough. He’s grabbing at your clothes and clinging to you, begging, whining your name over and over like a prayer. He feels you tighten up around him, feels the way your legs shake, and it sends him over the edge. He had been sucking a hickey into your chest, but now his teeth and tongue graze your skin as he moans, rutting deeper and deeper into you as he spills all of himself into your welcoming embrace.

A few moments when he would normally pull out and get up, instead he buries his face in your neck. “Can we… just stay here for a minute?”

There’s still a fragile quality to his voice, and you begin running your fingers through his hair again, before pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Sure,” you say, nodding. You play with his hair as he sucks on your tits, his arms wrapped tight around your waist. He runs his tongue over the soft flesh, reveling in the taste, the way your walls flutter around him when he plays and sucks on your hardened bud. He finds comfort in the gesture, the way you taste. You stay like that for a little while, and Ricky feels his brain go fuzzy with how good you feel and taste, how sweet you are to him. If he could live between your legs - and with his face in your tits - he would in a heartbeat.

Your phone buzzes, pulling you slightly out of the warm little bubble you’ve created. It’s Ashlyn. You know she’s upset, she has to be after today. Ricky freezes, looking up at you to see what you do. You bring your finger to your lips, gesturing for him to stay quiet, then place your hand on the back of his head, bringing him back down to your soft chest.

You pick up the phone, chatting with Ashlyn, listening as she vents and worries to you, gently scratching Ricky’s back the whole time. You have such a casual, nurturing energy, and being squished between your tits, still deep inside you while you idly chat on the phone makes Ricky’s head spin. He can’t get enough of you, can’t stop thinking about how good you treat him, how nice your attention feels. When he wants a little more, he’ll grind his hips against your twitching clit, just to feel the way you throb and squeeze around him, to hear the little hitch in your breath that you try to conceal.

You send him a warning look, but you can’t keep a straight face, not when he’s looking at you like that.

“Hey, what if we did a song?” you ask into the phone, Ashlyn silent on the other end as she listens, “Like, what if we did a huge, original, show stopping number, and, like… a flashmob at the meeting tomorrow. You know, show them what we can do when she’s the one directing us.”

“I… love that. Oh my god, I’m dead. Yes.” she states, and you smile. “I- god, I’m already getting ideas. Uh… okay, can you meet me at Big Red’s?” she spitballs, excited to work on this.

“Yeah,” you say, gaze flickering back down at Ricky, “we’ll be over in a few, text everyone else - we’ll need as much backup as we can get.” you chuckle.

“Oh,” she says, a knowing tone to her voice, “is… Ricky with you?” Dammit. Now you have to play this off.

“Uh, yeah, we were just-” you trail off, fighting a giggle as he grinds against you. He chuckles into your tits, feeling them jiggle around his mouth.

“We were just hanging around the theater,” you finish, “he didn’t want to leave yet.”

“Yeah,” she says, thinking about earlier, regretting leaving so soon, “tell me about it. Anyway, get here as soon as you can so we can work on this.”

She hears a light, flustered giggle distantly through the speaker, and knows it’s him making you laugh. She could let it slide, but calling you out is too tempting.

“...Hi, Ricky.” she says. It’s silent for a minute.

“Hi, Ashlyn.” his voice is sheepish, and she hears you both giggle. She’s glad you know she knows you’ve been hanging out together, flirting too, no doubt. You hang up shortly after, then begin the process of finally detangling yourselves from each other, and cleaning up enough to look presentable. Ricky’s chest squeezes when you adjust his hoodie strings and fix his hair. He returns the caring gesture by helping you to his car, your legs still wobbly.

By the time you get to Red’s, Ashlyn already has some lyrics she’s working on, and part of a chorus. Red looks at Ricky, nodding toward you. Ricky looks at him pointedly, gaze flicking to Ashlyn, noting the flustered look on Red’s face. Red gives him a look that screams HAHAHA WHAT? NO! Why is it obvious?? Ricky makes a mental note to grill him on it later.

They watch you and Ashlyn work together, brainstorming lyrics and choreo as everyone else arrives, and Ricky is thrilled to see you in your natural habitat like this. By the time everyone else is there, you, Ashlyn, and Carlos have made great progress, with everyone else helping to bounce around ideas and iron out details.

“You know,” Nina starts, a performative tone of wisdom to her voice, “I think we should go for a power ballad.”

“Uh…” you look over at Ashlyn, who you can tell is feeling defensive over the work you’ve already done. You look at Carlos, who doesn’t seem to want to do a power ballad either. You choose your words carefully.

“I totally see where you’re coming from, a power ballad would be really impactful, but I think in this case we need to go for something with more wow factor.”

“A power ballad has wow factor!” she says. Even she realizes how flimsy that sounds. She lets out a contemptuous sigh, “But a power ballad would show how much she means to us.” she’s clearly trying to tug on the heartstrings, and it’s not working on you. You check the clock. You don’t have time to debate with her.

“Realistically,” you start, a decisive tone to your voice, “I don’t think we have time to rework all this into a power ballad. I think we should stick with the direction we’re going in, and commit-”

“Oh, so you want to play it safe?” she asks, seeming like she caught you in something, “I thought music… was about taking risks.”

You hold back the biggest sigh of your life, when Ricky jumps in behind you.

“I think we should listen to her.”

Nina starts to thank him, the sees that he’s pointing to you. The words dry up in her throat.

“She is like,” he continues, “the most talented person I’ve ever seen. She really knows what she’s talking about, guys.”

Everyone seems to agree, except for Nina. You can feel the pissy aura radiating off her already. You send him a grateful look, then turn back to her, trying to be professional.

“A power ballad is still a great idea-”

“No, no.” she says, passive aggressive and dismissive, “you go ahead. I’ll just be quiet.” everything about her is making your irritation spike, but you know you don’t have time to babysit her or her feelings. If she thinks she can make you feel bad for that, then she’s wrong.

“Okay, as long as you’re sure.” You state, before getting back into it with Ashlyn.

As soon as you finish holding out the final note, you’re met with cheers that turn into roaring applause. Your mom and Ricky’s dad both advocated for Miss Jenn, tipping the scales for Principal Gutierrez to agree, letting her keep her job. Ricky finds you immediately, picking you up and spinning you around. He holds you so tight, and you both giggle, elated. You can’t believe it really worked. When he pulls away you can see it on him, the electric energy, the rush of a good performance. He doesn’t even need to say anything because you’re feeling the same thing, and the silent understanding is shared between you.

“This will be nothing compared to opening night.” you say, your smile infectious, and he can’t wait. Like, he genuinely can’t wait for opening night. He’s never been more motivated for anything than he has for this, performing alongside you again. He’s gotten a taste, and he wants more.

Nina hugs Seb. When she pulls away, she sees you and ricky talking animatedly - and very close together. She deflates at the sight before her. You’re holding each other and laughing, absolutely beaming at each other. A knot forms in her stomach.

“What are they even talking about?” she scoffs.

“Probably some cute story about when the basement flooded when she was in Matilda.” Gina mutters. Nina hadn’t noticed she was there, but something about that rings a bell she can’t place. It’s scratching around in the back of her mind, and she wonders why that sounds familiar.

Across the room, Ricky catches his dad and Miss Jenn talking real close together too. You follow his gaze, eyes widening. You see how his brow furrows, and think now would be a good time for a distraction.

“You know,” you start, drawing his attention back to you, “if you want to this weekend, I can show you some of the shows I’ve been in.” you offer.

“Are you kidding?” He asks with a chuckle, his whole face lighting up, “Yes! Yeah, absolutely!” You smile, your expression mirroring his.

“After we catch up on our sleep, though,” you say, exhaustion setting in from both the all nighter and the high energy performance you just pulled off. You rub your eyes, bleary. “Cause I am about to crash, dude.”

“Same,” he laughs, and it quickly turns into a yawn. You both giggle, making your way to Ricky’s dad’s car so he can drop you off before you take Ricky home. Your mom has a meeting starting ten minutes ago, so she had to rush over to city hall right after you got the good news, and Mike offered to give you a ride. He drops you off, watching the way you and Ricky talk. You’re still having a good time together even when you’re this tired. It’s a positive sign, he thinks. Soon they’re turning into their driveway, and he knows he has minutes before Ricky’s out like a light.

“She seems nice,” he starts, expecting Ricky to brush it off or act all embarrassed, demand you’re just hanging out, or whatever the kids are calling it now. Instead, he’s met with a wistful sigh.

“Yeah… she is.” he says with an exhausted, sincere smile. The openness of his answer surprises Mike. “She’s… the best.”

Ricky’s inside and falling into bed before Mike can ask any follow up questions, but he intends to a little later. He doesn’t know if it’s because of Jenn, or the show, or you, but he’s so glad to see Ricky smile like that again.

#ricky bowen #ricky bowen x reader #hsmtmts ricky #hsmtmts #hsmtmts smut #hsm x reader #rocks at your window #good news about the doctor thing is some stuff looks like it might happen way faster than i expected #which i'm happy about #also not going to think about #just going to write more rocks lol

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hikennosabo · 6 months

Text

trigun multiple bullets random thoughts

if you thought you saw the last of me in the tag... think again!!!

let's fucking goooooo... it's been a little while, so i feel like i'm rusty LMAO...

showdown with the dodongo brothers at honeycomb village (parts 1 & 2):

wow that's a mouthful of a chapter title. anyway.

seeing manga vash with fully blonde hair is... a little strange, now.

OH, SAME WITH SEEING WOLFWOOD... y'know... alive... i fucking MISSED HIMMMMMMM (<- i literally just saw him, i've been rewatching 98 again)

this is so fun i love it so much

oh there are SO many good expressions but if i post them all i'm sure i'll hit the image limit

vash's pout is so cute and funny but i NEED to draw attention to meryl in the corner... i love her sm

vash is twiddling his thumbs... he's so cute...

well these sure are names

even in the black-and-white manga... even though her hair was brown on the color page... we STILL get a blonde milly jumpscare?!?! really?!?!?

AAHHHH... HIS SMILE.... TOO BRIGHT......!!!!!!

they're so silly :( i missed this... waaaah...

oh my goodness, i am in LOVE with this page.

i love wolfwood scolding vash too, lol. it's a conversation they've had many times before, but it feels... idk, lighter than usual?

i love this page soooo much... their expressions are cute. i'm getting "he's an idiot, but he's MY idiot" vibes from wolfwood, lol :') they're in love your honor

and the cliffhanger reveal... i don't have that much to say about the plot tbh... hmmmm, i'm not separating these chapters in this post anyway.

they :)

it wouldn't be a nightow action scene if it was easy to follow, but i'm glad i examined this page in detail instead of letting my eyes just pass over it because

i LOVE this panel... the one in the middle of the spread is great too but i LOVE the angle of this... vash reaching over wolfwood to shoot, while wolfwood shields him... ugh... thank GOD for vashwood

oh my god...... he's so cute.......

GIRLLLLSSSS I LOVE YOUUUUU

OH YEAH, VASHWOOD, BABEY!!!!!!!!!! vash holding on to the punisher... :D

is vash shooting the rockets so they change trajectory... that's so fucking insane. i love it

THE SILLIES

man this was a fun one. i loved seeing vashwood being a battle couple again and just having a relatively low-stakes/light-hearted romp was a really nice thing to read after the horrors. which i am now a few weeks removed from, but they still haunt me...

trigun: the lost plant:

as someone who had (has!! i still love it!) an enduring dr stone obsession in 2021-2022, i am IMMUNE to boichi's art!!! this is significantly hornier than dcst though, not that i'm surprised in the slightest, dcst does have its own horny designs/moments unfortunately... this is the difference between shonen and seinen i suppose--hold on, that's not what this post is about!! *deletes entire other paragraph talking about dr stone*

60 years post-canon... vash's lifespan has been significantly shortened, but i do wonder how much he has left in him. he lived 150 years without any visible black appearing in his hair, so even if he has just a few strands of blonde left, they might last him a long time... well i don't think any of these stories are canon anyway so it doesn't matter LOL

as far as the plot goes...

the explanation for how plants produce matter is interesting but why did it manifest as a child and why is it a black hole and why this specific plant and how did vash even--oh, WHATEVER!! i suppose there is a reason boichi was the artist for dr stone and not the writer.

very cool to see vash drawn in boichi's style though! it's pretty similar to the early dr stone manga, even though dcst came 5+ years later... and the art style of dcst changed over time, although--wait, no, that's NOT what this post is about!!!

the denizens of the sand planet:

okay, this one is by... *googles* wait, this is the guy who did lucifer and the biscuit hammer?? and planet with??? HUHHH... i've only watched planet with, but i've heard VERY good things about biscuit hammer (manga)... anyway

this is a cute story. the found family is cute.

okay sorry this doesn't matter but it is bugging me (ha) a bit. these post-canon stories don't like... actually show us how the world changed after the battle. because it's something i've been wondering about... like, they show a guy cleaning a plant bulb, but would there even be any plants left in bulbs at this point?

and like, this...

wouldn't the exploitation end. like i suppose plants would still get "worn out" eventually, but i would expect more of a symbiotic relationship at this point. so what's with this imagery?

I'M OVERTHINKING IT!!!!! OKAY!!!! JUST ENJOY THE CUTE FOUND FAMILY STORY!!!!

les enfants:

i. am. in. LOVE!!!! WITH THIS ART STYLE!!!!!!

THEY ARE SO FUCKING SHAPED!!!!!!

legato?!?!?! :D :D :D :D :D

ohhh i love this redraw!!!!!! oghhhhhh!!!!!! oooooooogh!!!!!

i love this art!!!!! i love this art!!!!!!

EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP HE'S SLEEPING!!!!!! ohhh i love this. i like the wording too. "decided to slumber"... he's fucking eepy. he's cozy.

ALSOOOOO

RAZLO (i'm assuming)!!! HE'S SO FUCKING. SHAPED. his GRIN!!! IS SO FUNNY. i'm in tears... i love him...

WAAAHHHH COUCH JUMPSCARE... I DONT NEED THIS WHEN I'M EXPERIENCING SUCH JOY GUSHING OVER THE ART...

the art outside the storybook is also lovely, it's very detailed and delicate...

i would like to believe merylmilly got married and grew old together... yeah...

DUDE, I'M GONNA CRY...... vashwood image... this is a really lovely story. definitely my favorite of all of them.

milly/meryl satellite tv:

so they chase him around for 24 hours straight once a week... poor vash LOL

hey hey hey hey hey this is supposed to be a silly goofy fun time why are you showing me this. i'm so sad. i'm glad the family is being fed at least.

i always assumed that "eriks" was a name vash chose for himself but this is way funnier

there is so much going on here

LIVIO LMAO......

yeah that was very silly

raijin: rising:

incredibly jarring tone shift from the previous story lol... i really enjoy the rai-dei focus though. he's cool but he didn't get a backstory in the manga so i appreciate this a lot. i wouldn't mind more stories like this focusing exclusively on side characters tbh.

it gets pretty brutal... i don't know what to say about this story besides that. it's an interesting look at what could've made rai-dei the way he is.

cutting is fighting:

we're ending this not with a bang but with a whimper... swapping meryl in for the haircut scene is... blegh. whatever. and they exaggerate her crush on vash too much. like yeah she's kind of tsundere in canon (moreso in the anime imo) but she's not a teenager yknow? the satellite tv story did that too but that one was supposed to be goofy and exaggerated so it was whatever.

the most interesting thing here is the lack of dialogue. that's a fun creative choice. and i like the gag with vash's hair being too nasty to comb LOL... and the haircut options. that's all...

overall i'd give this a... 6.5/10? 'les enfants' was definitely my favorite by far and nightow's story was a lot of fun too. the others ranged from "meh at best" to "sure, it was good" lol. i liked seeing the different art styles... i don't have much else to say.

#trigunbookclub #trigun talk #june speaks

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jjaydazo · 1 year

Note

I played darts lol.

RANDOM THING:

Find your oldest drawing, post it along with your most recent drawing. Then pick a random, favourite or least favourite photo and add that after dating the prior two. Then date the photo U just added, specifying what it is and why U hate, love or context. Then add a paragraph on your opinion on the note. Because looking back is fun :)

[before you ask, yes I seriously got this from throwing darts. My wall is gonna need to be filled, sandpapered and painted. Again.]

(to be able just make an ask from doing darts sounds like your takin life like a pro. nice)

alright here.

dancetale frisk back when it was..... 2017 jesus christ when I was 12 years old.

and the recent is this comic

in which i just finished it today.

My least liked art work is this one

It is kind of old. here are reasons why I don't like it.

The color (especially my skin)

The shading

the anatomy

the rendering

When I was a kid, I was too stubborn to do cell shading. my dumbass thought "Hey air brushing is better! I could learn faster doing this!" I in fact did not until idk 1-2 years later. I don't think i cared enough making this. since i was doing this in a rush.

as for a random thing

this is a frans swap comic that supposed to have a third chapter.

along with special cameos certain 2 horror type or frans artists

my favorite

there comes a rime where i don't know what to draw and times where i do know.

this one however i was motivated to draw three gals standin over their bf's lmao

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snowflakeanimelover · 2 years

Note

YANDERE FIVE FOR THE QUOTES PLEASEEE

Lol of course! Five is an awesome character <3

— — — —

What Five Hargreeves Would Say as a Yandere

Just give me 5 yandere quotes and I’ll write a little short paragraph for each one for a yandere character x reader relationship. Or give me a character and I’ll find five yandere quotes in which I think they’ll say.

Five Hargreeves(The Umbrella Academy)

1. “You’re being too friendly with them.”

Five was the man in a teens body that didn’t seem like the type to care much about anything. He lived so much of his life, he knows practically everything. So, when you returned home late one night from a date, you were surprised to find Five approaching you in your room. “You’re being too friendly with them.” My body shook with cold shivers. The man who didn’t care too much about anything was watching you. Stalking you. Never did you expect to find your adoptive brother to care this much about you. If only you knew the extent to his love.

2. “I shouldn’t have to repeat myself.”

All you wanted to do was close your eyes and cover your ears. You didn't move from your hidden corner, but it wasn’t so hidden when hearing his voice. He clearly found you, anger in his voice and in his irises. He’s not one to be patient. “I shouldn’t have to repeat myself.” He scowled, but he refrained from moving any closer. “Get in that room. Now.”

3. “I’d do anything for you, whether or not you ask me to.”

You didn’t know what to do. Run away from your overprotective friend or call for help? Calling for help could give your harasser a chance to live. But if you ran away, you could try to avoid Five doing something you were too scared to even think about. You couldn’t help but to mumble out the actions your friend just did. He’s trying to kill someone. From the look on his face, you had a feeling Five had no intention of letting you go. “I’d do anything for you, whether or not you ask me to.” He says with a wicked smirk, wiping the dark blood off of his hands.

4. “You just had to go poking your nose around, didn’t you?”

Never have you felt such disgust and fear in your life. Someone you cared so much about was hiding something like this from you. It was a normal day of waiting for Five to come back home from his short business. But wondering off to look around as you waited…you regret it. You didn’t look at Five when you heard his voice, eyes widened, and your body was frozen as you held a picture of you. One of the many pictures he had all on the walls of you. “You just had to go poking your nose around, didn’t you?” This was the first time you’ve ever heard the darkness in his voice.

5. “If you just do what you’re told then we wouldn’t have a problem, now would we?”

It was a plan you created. A plan to get you out. It was your only chance while Five was away on his usual business. He wasn’t supposed to be back until the next day. You managed to secretly get a hold of your family member, somehow, they believed your story. They came to get you out and save you. If only you planned just a bit earlier. “If you just do what you’re told then we wouldn’t have a problem, now would we?” He says half-heartedly, fixing his tie as he looks down to your family member's dead body.

#the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #yandere five hargreeves #five x reader #five hargreeves x reader #yandere quotes #quotes #yandere themes #kidnapping #gore #blood #number five

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somany-fandoms-solittle-time · 7 months

Text

“What’s so Special About the Moon?”

Jamil Viper x MC(insert character Mac)

(Ch. 1) – Ch. 2 – Ch. 3 – Ch. 4 – Next – Previous

This was originally supposed to be, like, a single chapter hurt/comfort before my OC (Mac) and Jamil as a song fic where they berate him and then sing a song referencing the moon… but then I had feelings and it’s becoming a more in depth character study between the two. Don’t worry! By the end of this mini series, there will be song lyrics and more sappiness… it’s just now that I’ve finished both Book 4 and Book 5, I need to reorganize the events and specific and whatnot. Some quick housekeeping as always: I tried to make Jamil to encompass both his dark & mysterious villain persona ALONG WITH him practically being a fucking child so that’s why I wrote him like *this* so yeah… I’m moving around the timeline so that Yuu/MC (aka Mac) has the weekend to GET THEIR SHIT TOGETHER LOL, Mac is about 19-20 (haven’t decided yet) and uses mixed pronouns as a heads up, Ch. 2 has a 1st draft written put still needs to be typed up and edited. If you see a typo NO YOU DIDN’T!!! This one of my first times trying a different writing doc that isn’t Google (cuz fuck Google) and it’s a little weird to get used to and edit stuff. It’s beta-d in the sense that licking the spatula while your mom bakes cookies and claiming that you helped… literally only a few paragraphs were checked over y’all.

Quick shout-out to @krenenbaker and @twst-beam for inspiring my writing thus far (and sorry for taking so long to post this lol!)

I’ll be releasing some type of overview of my OC eventually, but take these snippets as they go while I fall back in love with writing. You’ll meet Mac in full when xey are good and ready… anyway, please enjoy Chapter 1 of my new fanfiction, “What’s So Special About the Moon?”

“Here. You can use this one,” Jamil directed towards the plain (compared to the rest of the dorm) laundry… mat? There were several industrial sized washer and dryers, a couple moderate-sized one’s that would fit a regular apartment complex, and a long wall designated area for hand washed items. Jamil was keeping the door prompt open with his hips; his slight frown of concentration and the flick of his Magic Pen were the only signs of the current spell he had going. Turning around, MC was slightly surprised by the massive piles of fabric that was being corralled in via multiple a massive sheet tied to multiple brooms. They still couldn’t fully grasp the concept (and power) of magic and seeing it so casually performed on a day-to-day basis was kinda daunting.

“Thanks again for letting us use the space along with showing me how to properly clean all these fancy duds and whatnot.” the Ramshackle Perfect awkwardly trailed off. Their focus was split between stealing peaks at the Scarabia Vice Warden, not wanting to bother the already busy Sophomore, and surveying over the dusty, damaged antique pieces the two stripped from the halls of the previously abandoned dorm. Rugs, carpets, curtains, furniture covers (in varying state of disrepair) dulled of their once rich and vibrant color. The patterns were a mix of stuffy academia and the quiet comfort of a grandparents cottage living room. Both extravagant, yet understated. It’s a style lost to time, but not quite a revived ancient aesthetic.

At this point MC was fully lost in thought; they desperately needed to clean, fix, organize and decorate the dorm in preparation to host so many guests. Even with his limited memories, they had a feeling they’d never hear the end of it from his parents.

“Don’t worry about it much.” Jamil said, interrupting their musings. “Honestly, I’m doing this as much for myself as I am helping you.

With a flick of his wrist, Jamil organized the seemingly random crumbled piles of fabric by condition, color and use. His movements while cleaning were quick, smart, and efficient-- all while patiently showing Mac which order to start in along with the best way to clean them.

“Ya’ know…” MC broke the relative quietness between the two workers, “Even with everything thing that happened over break, I understand why Kalim still trusts you; I almost can believe that you’re not that bad of a guy.” Jamil gave xem a startled (and exasperated) look, but they continued before he could respond: “I fail to see how helping the person who ruined your ‘world domination’ plans—”

“They were hardly World Domination level!” He quickly snapped. His embarrassment led to him tugging his hood further down his face, teeth slightly clenched, and dilated eyes as MC continued listing all the ways he’s “helped” them out.

The magic-less Perfect laughed to themselves the more conflicting emotions flew across Jamil’s face. Eventually those same emotions were compressed behind a cold, smooth mask. Limestone slabs and stiff mud brick walls were swiftly constructed between the two working-class students. Something about it didn’t sit right with Mac.

“Hey I’m not saying what you pulled wasn’t a dick move! But you’re also not the first overly-traumatized teen boy I’ve had to deal with… and between what you’ve said about yourself, plus thing’s I’ve heard and seen, I’m starting to think you’re not nearly as complicated as you think you are.” The longer they argued *to* him, the more Jamil’s mask began to crack; there were a few holes in his walls he didn’t account for. Xe’s a tad more observant than I remember, but weirdly just as persistent, Jamil internally rolled his eyes.

“I could still change my mind and send you back to deal with the Pomefiore Wrath(tm),” He mumbled while gracefully lugging the newly cleaned (and damp) furniture coverings into an empty drier. Despite his harsh threat, MC still remembered him assuring the other this laundry room was only ever used by him after Kalim’s parties.

The large machines and larger working space was specifically added for the servant to clean and repair any decor or Asim Family Treasures when Kalim’s recklessness caused a larger mess than usual. This meant that Mac and Grim (who was originally supposed to be helping… where the hell was he anyway?) could do as many loads needed without worry. On top of the borrowed space, the Housewarden himself had cheerily has assured them, his Oasis Maker would replace all the water used ten times over!

Mac’s thoughts were interrupted once again as Jamil relented, “I told you, I’m doing this to help me.” After receiving an unconvinced eyebrow raise, Jamil began to explain, “Kalim might’ve announced us as equals but I still have a job to do. If he got sick while spending Allah knows how long in a dusty, dirty, shabby condemned building like Ramshackle I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“It’s not nearly that bad anymore!” the sole-human resident of said dorm argued, but was quickly shut up with a tired gesture towards the untouched loads of laundry left to be done.

“On top of that,” Jamil smirked “Even a common peasant like myself wouldn’t sleep in a rundown garbage heap if I can help it.” His smirk slowly slide off his face from his face as the insulted Perfect almost ripped the handful of soapy doilies, that they were previously scrubbing by hand, as xey prepared a retaliation.

“OK, first of all! This whole Inferior-Superior shtick isn’t going to prove your point. If I’m being totally honest, I’m pretty used to the bratty, arrogant attitude of teenagers by now (even if I wasn’t Leona is a thousand times worse).” They turned their full body to face the 2nd year boy before continuing the assault. “Secondly, even just doing the bare minimum would’ve been fine, considering I’ve slowly been deep cleaning them place room by room. This is just last minute cleaning considering I wasn’t expected to host six extra people in two days.”

The shock of Mac’s care and attention to detail couldn’t win over Jamil’s newfound freedom to be right… and sassy while doing it. “Keep in mind you wouldn’t be the only one having to deal with Vil. His expectations are much higher than my personal standards—”

“Getting there!” MC interrupted again. “It’s not like Vil and whoever else couldn’t magic things better or get things done over at Pomefiore.” However, their fire started to die down with their obvious lack of understanding of magic. Not that Xeir level of intellect ever stopped them from talking out of their ass during debates… even if this wasn’t exactly shaping up to be anything like Debate Club back home.

“Not the point!” Mac built back their steam after thoughtlessly shaking off any internal distractions. “Third of all,” Jamil groaned not-so-quietly, “third of all, you didn’t have to show me how to do it. Nor did you have to continue helping me. There’s only so much I could pay you back in favors and it’s not like you’ll make back the time and energy spent. You’re obviously a bit of a piece of shit but I don’t totally blame…”

Jamil suddenly gave Mac his full attention. He smoothed any emotional tells from his face and readied himself to actively dissect what ever left xeir mouth and any messages in between the lines. The silence prompted Mac to drip extra sincerity as they begin to ramble without thinking.

“… I get why you did what you did. You’re not totally forgiven, but it’s not like I’ll hold a grudge over you forever. Whenever I joke about Winter Break I thought you knew it was just that: a joke.”

The two stared at one another for a few beats. Jamil betrayed nothing that he was thinking, but Mac could practically feel the exasperation flooding off of him in great waves. The disbelief pushing and pulling off of him, despite remaining stone cold to zeir admission. So, of course, they continued with slight for fever:

“Yeah, okay, you held us all prisoner, enslaved via hypnosis your entire dorm, and nearly killed multiple students. Twice.” Mac cringed at their own blunt statement, “… But why would you go as far as you did, if you didn’t care! What your parents, and more specifically your culture, put you through wasn’t fair—but you obviously still love and cherish them!”

At this, he seemed to get even more guarded. It felt patronizing to be hold how he supposedly felt or why he should feel a specific way. They hadn’t been there. They hadn’t grown up as a Viper in the Desert, constantly reminded by Kalim’s Mirage of wealth what he could never have. They didn’t know the FIRST thing about the Scalding Sands—!

“… How do you know anything about my parents? Did Kalim--?!” He choked out infuriated at the mere implication.

“Relax Viper! It’s all in the Secret of The Ooze™”

“What?”

“Never mind…”

The usual absurdity of MC’s references (much to xeir chagrin that no one seemed to understand them) Jamil allowed himself a shadow of a smirk. Right about now they’d drop what they were saying and instead empathize with him over terrible bosses. They’d both fall back into a familiar pattern of quiet understanding while making playful small talk; maybe Xe’d make a remark over how “hellish” the desert temperature is and moan about being “a poor Northern forced into the sun” before dragging them both off to grab an abominably sweet drink that Kalim would still put sugar in. Xe had always been could at mediating with the other students at NCR.

However, they didn’t drop it. They continued to push him… especially when they realized that he expected the conversation to have ended and started to relax. Xey pushed and pushed and pushed. Finally, they had circled back to him rebelling from his status.

“What? You think I’d be Happier staying a lowly servant?! I’d rather cut my own tongue out than remain bending to Kalim’s will for the rest of my days.” He huffed, still not stopping his assault on the pile of laundry in front of him.

A frustrated sigh left Mac as Xey tried to get their point across, “THAT’S NOT WHAT I’M SAYING!… Obviously, you don’t love being forced into child labor or having to pretend to be something you’re not, but that doesn’t mean you’re totally being honest with yourself either. Rebelling adolescents often do a complete 180 of who they once presented as in an extreme action to feel validated.”

Jamil scoffed in indignation at the impromptu therapy session he’d been forced into.

“Just because you were forced to lie sometimes as ‘Servant Jamil’ doesn’t mean those memories or feelings weren’t authentic!”

“My Childhood, my Pride, my ENTIRE LIFE was stolen from me before I could even open my eyes, Mac! Who could cherish that sort of future?”

“I’m not disputing that! I’m not trying, in any way, to imply that what you went through didn’t fucking suck. But just because you’ve started saying the quiet part out loud doesn’t mean you’re being totally honest either. Switching one mask for another just means nothing has changed but your ability to bitch about-it to the kid you literally Grew Up With, Jamil.” A tired resignation was growing in their eyes as they headed to the end of xeir rant.

It was clear MC was starting to speak in circles and xey weren’t going to be able to get through to them. A heavy weight sunk deep in their chest, slowly sliding to xeir stomach the more he misunderstood the magic-less student. I saw him drown in the depths of his own helplessness and self-pity, but even after he’s been pulled out it’s like he can’t help but dive back in for a swim. It was a suffocating thought while Mac watched as Jamil once again went stone-faced… Like what he was about to say would be his final shield before walking away. It’s a shame that the Ramshackle Resident had become too used to throwing bombs over walls and blowing verbal shields to smithereens after months of being stuck in Twisted Wonderland.

“I’m not sugarcoating or bowing down to anyone anymore. I won’t bite my tongue. I won’t put on a Happy Face to Kalim’s idiotic, half-thought out ideas again. I’m slowly gaining my freedom, something you clearly don’t understand. Just because you’re as blind as he is doesn’t mean anything! What more could you want from me?!” He hissed his final insult before finally stepping away from his station. Not leaving the room, he aggressively got himself a cup of water from one of the sink and gulped the unfiltered water down.

“Just because you’re not hiding your bitter, knee-jerk reaction from an unfair world doesn’t mean you aren’t still hiding away and lying about your more vulnerable emotions.” Mac whispered in an emotionless tone. “Cutting a part of your past off and pretending it was never there is doing yourself a disservice and lying to those that still care about you… And there sure-as-shit isn’t much that I hate more than a Fucking Liar.”

. . . . . .

The lacy doilies sat in a sudsy basin, left forgotten as the two students stood a mere paces from each other—both maintaining an uncomfortably intense eye contact. The sloshing thump of the washers and stirring hum of driers harmonizing were the only song to accompany the two’s stare down. A short hiccup as Mac took a drawn out breath was the only reaction between the two of them. The combined heat of Scarabia’s sun (barely past 10am) and the humidity of continued use of machinery didn’t help the suffocating air in the wide laundry room. Not to mention the loud, stifling silence to boot.

MC usually held back such honest commentary (not that they weren’t blunt) unless Xe deemed it necessary: think high stakes and a sense of urgent drama. But something about Jamil and Kalim’s situation reminded them of himself. The two’s intertwined dance of class, history, loyalty and betrayal, friendship and loss, and such overwhelming guilt reminded the dimension hoping stranger of home. Whatever that meant.

But this was no time to get lost in their own problems and Trauma’s. They’d went too far (again) and that means xey should be the bigger person (again) and deescalate the situation before he hated them (AGAIN). Which means, MC would be the one to break the silence and run away again.

“Ya’ know what? Grim’s probably burned the school down already. Don’t worry about,” Ze gestured blindly to the numerous stations they’d started, “this mess. I’ll rope my little Rat Gremlin and the Freshies into finishing this up. Hell, I could probably convince Rugs to pitch in for lunch or something. Bully the Music Club with helping in exchange of random sheet music I still remember from home.”

Their rambles became more spastic as they noticed Mr. Sugar, Spice and Not-So-Nice break out of his own trance and try to reply. “Seriously! Just enjoy the break… Not that it’s my place or responsibility to be butting in anyway. I will be back in, like, 10 minutes and from here-on-out minding my own damn business. Sorry. Whatever. See you sometime after Sunday, I guess?” Their entire monoluge Mac was slowly backing out of the room before turning around in xeir spot and just short of sprinting their way out of the dorm. A few passerby Scarabia students stopped to eavesdrop on xeir muttering… watch them leave.

Without getting a word in Jamil stood unmoving, watching the Ramshackle Perfect leave swifter than the desert wind shifting the dunes. Almost on auto-pilot, he simply left to go back to his room and do as he was told; enjoy his break. His day off. The day he could do what he liked and didn’t necessarily have to prioritize work. A day he spent working to help and assist the pitiful, magic-less loser that was dropped-kicked into another reality and forced to play nice with a University filled with overpowered and hormonal teenagers while having no way home… And in return was insulted, psychoanalyzed, and thrown aside before he could get a word in edgewise.

“Son of a STREET RAT!!!!!” It was clear he’d need a few hours to calm down before he could even think of trying to enjoy the rest of his Saturday off.

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