#hopefully this will make it easier for y'all to find fics!

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden Rewrite Preview

Since a lot of you guys still voted for a sequel over a rewrite, I wanted to give y'all these little previews to kind of hopefully showcase the depth that the rewrite will be adding. I will still be doing the sequel events, but it'll all be wrapped up in this singular fic rather than split into multiple parts.

Enjoy the previews and let me know what y'all think! 🥰

Weaving through the trees, letting your hands glide along the scratchy bark of the trees and over their tufts of hanging moss and leaves, you followed the practically invisible path of The Great Tree's root back to the open glen beneath its pale leaves. As you stepped off, the root shifted as though it was trying to help lower you down to the ground. That lonely feeling gripped you again once back among the supplies you'd gathered to improve upon your pitiful shelter.

The evergreen that surrounded you felt more extensive than before. Perhaps that was because of your time lost within Destiny's labyrinth, or perhaps you were simply growing accustomed to the realm you could not stop returning to. The soft, slightly damp feel of the moss beneath your feet no longer made your spine erupt with shivers. The mist no longer made you feel cold, and the eerie silence that made every shift and groan of the trees sound so loud was beginning to frighten you less.

It would be easier to ignore the questions left unanswered by the ancient being and his unhelpful riddles if you had someone to talk to. A friend to visit or simply something to help pass the time with. The longer you stared down at the pile of leaves and large sticks you felt tears sting your eyes once again.

"I don't know if you are alive..." You began in a humble whisper as you looked up at the strange half-formed markings of the tree. "I mean, I know you are alive, but if you can perhaps understand me, I would ask for your help. There must be something in this desolate place. Someone I am meant to find." The tree remained perfectly still. "If you could point or make another path for me to find this... I... I have nothing to offer but my gratitude." Still no movement.

Tears slid down your cheeks as you closed your eyes and sighed. Even if the trees could move, it did not mean they understood you. You were alone. The now familiar groaning of the forest echoed around you as the snapping twigs and shifting dirt made you open your eyes and look behind you. There the gnarled trees moved, forging a dark path in an unknown direction. Another large white root of The Great Tree slowly emerged from beneath the dirt below you, lining the way.

"Thank you," you whispered, pressing a palm to the tree root before carefully walking through the mist and beginning your journey along the dark path.

These trees were different from the others. Older, darker, and far more gnarled than the rest. The longer you walked, the darker the path grew as waves of thick mist slowly swallowed you. "Where is it?!"  A desperate voice called from your left.

You stopped, turning quickly in search of the individual speaking, only to find more trees. "Think! Think!" Another echoed from behind. "Gods, you're so useless! Just think!"

"Hello?" You called out, your voice nearly lost in the echoes of multiple voices.

They did not answer you, simply continued muttering as the root shifted beneath you, rolling slightly as if to encourage you to continue forward. As you tread the path, the voices grew louder until you had to cover your ears, trying to drown them out as your feet carried you forward. Then, just as your eardrums felt on the cusp of bursting, you were pushed forward into a cloud of mist.

Light... Bright and burning light filled your vision as you stumbled, landing upon a course and shifting floor. Black sand scratched your palms, sticking to you like sap as you hurriedly stood and attempted to dust yourself off. Your white gown was dappled with black specks as you breathed in the warm air, taking in the new sights that blessed your eyes.

The black sand stretched for miles, glistening beneath the sunlight filling the cloudless sky. With a choked noise, you stared up at it in wonder. "Blue." You almost laughed to yourself. "The sky is blue."

It was beautiful beyond your imagining, every rock and cloud; you could hardly tear your eyes away from any of it. A gentle echoing sound of water churning turned your gaze toward the vast ocean that beat down against the shore. Sapphire waves tossed and rolled, washing seashells of vibrant colors up along the beach. You walked toward it, shivering with delight as the ocean waves crashed against your legs, pushing an orange shell between your feet. Bending over, you picked it from the wet sand, marveling at the smoothness of it and the perfect shape as the shell gradually turned white in your hands. Though the change in color made you frown slightly, the shell still held its beauty. 

You walked away from the beach, traveling further inward toward a large mountain of some kind. As you drew closer, the shape of it became clear. Not a mountain but a gate, large and carved with beautiful shapes depicting something you couldn't quite comprehend. The material used glistened in the sunlight, looking even smoother and more perfect than the shell still in your hand. You reached forward, gently running your fingertips along it before the entire gate groaned.

With a startled gasp, you withdrew your hand as the gates appeared to start opening to you. A wave of nervousness mingled with an excited and hopeful feeling. You had asked for a being to share your stories with, someone to converse with after spending your long days in silence. Perhaps this was all you sought. The gate parted, a sliver of an opening that revealed one quick flash of gold before darkness filled it, seeping through the opening and rushing toward you in a flash.

The shadows knocked you to the ground. A dusting of golden sand burned your eyes as you fell, clutching the shell to your chest. Hazy figures took shape around you, and while none of it looked familiar, your whole body tensed, and every hair stood on end. A rush of voices echoed around you as a tall shadow loomed, a thing that felt familiar. Shaded figures slid past you, and the voices grew louder."You are lawfully bound-"

One of the shadows grabbed your arms, its grip cutting into your skin like thorns as it held you firm. Behind the shadow, fire erupted, and the others began to wail and screech, chanting as the tall shadow faltered and fell. "You will never be rid of me!" Pain exploded through your head and down each of your limbs. 

A scream tore through your throat, and with a tearful blinking, it all faded, the shadows receding until the simply slightest through a vast empty plain of blue. Your heaving breaths did little to stop your rabid heartbeat as you faltered to your knees. A feeling of power, absolute and almighty, surged all around you, and a voice filled your ears. "What manner of creature are you?" 

The darkness peeled away, revealing the ornate gates and a dark figure with flames licking his feet standing in front of it. Your voice faded inside your throat at the sight of him, leaving nothing, not even a breath behind. This man, no, this being, was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. Hair as black as the midnight sky with a cloak even darker. His pale skin practically glowed in the blue hue that surrounded you, but as he turned to look at you over his delicate shoulder, his eyes pierced your very soul.

Dark glowing orbs, both beautiful and deadly, glared at you, raking almost painfully over your form. Just as you had in Destiny's garden, you felt underdressed. There. The spark of recognition hit you as you studied his face. "You are one of them," you whispered. "The Endless."

The being in front of you hardly even raised a brow as he turned fully, lips set in a thin line as he asked, voice alone foreboding and powerful, "You were attempting to sneak into my domain… What is it you intended to steal?"

Before you saw him, you felt the dark figure gliding into the empty space beside you, bathing you in the light of his ruby. "I did not think Queen Tatiana would allow those of such a lowly station to attend."

Foolishly you looked over at him, struck instantly by the glossy sheen of his leather attire. A cape of thin material blacker than any you'd ever seen was pinned to his shoulders with two silver raven brooches. His dark hair, usually unkempt, was slicked back ever so slightly, highlighting his high cheekbones and defined jawline. Even though you hated to admit it, Dream of The Endless looked handsome.

As though he could sense that thought, his lips quirked ever so slightly, breaking you from the admission and urging you to replace it with words equally as crude. "She would not. I was invited by King Auberon. Though, I have it on good authority that she invited only the most self-important and pretentious beings across the realms. I suppose your presence only confirms that."

His laugh was nearly soundless as he stared down at you, pride as obvious and ugly as Desires shining in his starry eyes. "Your attempts to insult me continue to disappoint, Burden."

The look of satisfaction that made his lips finally curve upwards at your obvious reaction to his crude name only made your anger burn hotter in your chest. "I hardly need to attempt to do that when you do it quite well all on your own."

"True," he said. "Your mere presence here insults me well enough. As I am certain, it does everyone else in attendance."

Bastard. You ground your teeth together and kept your head high. You'd not relent to him. Not here where you were a guest. Not here in a realm he did not govern. "I was invited. I hardly think they would have bothered if I was unwanted."

"You are unwanted," he sneered. The hideous words curl around you, consuming every breath of air and every word spoken outside your conversation. "Unnecessary and unwelcome wherever you go. A burden."

The Dream Lord had spoken words as venom before, so often that now you felt the weight of them sting less. Now, you stared back into his endless eyes and scoffed at him, the sound finally making the smugness vanish from his face. "You are most welcome to leave, Nightmare King. I'm quite certain the celebrations will liven with your departure."

He looked confounded for a moment. Shock and utter disbelief shimmered in his eyes, betraying the still calm of his features as they focused on your lips. "I should haunt your dreams for such insolence."

"As if you do not already," you bit back. How dare he pretend he has not already stolen that from me as well. You bowed to him, a gesture entirely mocking and insincere. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Oh Great King, I think I've wasted enough of my time bruising your fragile ego."

Before he could react, you were gone, moving through the large crowd of dancing faeries. The sea of beautiful silken wings and intricate horns parted just enough for you to slide past their large ball gowns and clutching jewels. From across the room, you could feel Queen Tatiana's eyes boring into your skull, a feeling only making you quicken your pace when suddenly a hand took yours.

You turned your head, the simple gems woven into your hair clinking together softly as your hair fell over your shoulder. Cluracan smiled, roughish and dashing, as he bowed. "Care for a dance fair maiden?"

"No, I do not," you replied coldly.

Mischief tugged at the corners of his lips as he pulled you into the sea of dancers, not caring that his own suit turned white as you stumbled into his chest. "Come now, little Lady of The Woods, let us give our royalty a dazzling display of friendship!"

"No longer the sun rising over fading storm clouds," the middle-aged woman said, raising a tender hand toward you.

"She is the storm clouds now," the oldest whispered.

The youngest, with glossy eyes, smiled as she beheld you. "Not a storm, but a fallen star. Bright and burning still, but no less lost."

You wiped your tears. "Who are you?"

Their faces filled with more sorrow as they answered your question with voices of thunder and power. "We have many names, lost one."

"The Three In One," the oldest said, pride lacing her tongue. 

"The Furies," the youngest continued.

"The Kindly ones," the second proclaimed.

The youngest smiled, placing a hand on her chest. "The Maiden."

The middle-aged woman repeated the action. "The Mother."

The eldest did nothing as she stepped toward you to place a stray hair behind your ear. "The Crone."

"You may call us The Fates," The Mother said with a hint of a smile.

"For it is fate that brings you to us, is it not?" The Crone asked.

"I... I do not know," you whispered. "I did not intend to travel here. I was... Upset."

The Maiden moved about the space with a soft humming of a familiar tune. The Mother chuckled softly. "Lost you are indeed."

"You know not your true power nor how to control it," The Maiden said flippantly.

The Crone stepped away. "You will have to learn quickly."

"If you do not, you'll risk being stuck somewhere you cannot escape so easily," The Mother cautioned.

A feeling of dread filled the pit of your stomach like a blooming flower. You straightened your back and looked around you, taking in the sight of the normal looking home. "Where am I?"

The Three laughed together. "She asks such boring questions."

"And she asks them too late."

#fic: burden #burden rewrite #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus imagine #dream the endless #sandman morpheus #dream of the endless imagine #morpheus x reader #the sandman series #sandman netflix #the sandman fanfic #burden #preview #Spotify

[poetry-protest-pornography]

I'm on a KinnPorsche Big Lives (and gets nice things) kick. So I'm thinking of writing a fic that's basically this:

***

Big survived the warehouse, and was squirrelled away by Vegas for some plot against Kinn or another, and has been in a private hospital this whole time.

With all the drama, Vegas has pretty much forgotten about him.

Porsche is doing his best as the head of the minor family, going through the ledgers, and finds invoices for Big's room and the nurses in charge of his care and obviously gets curious why they're paying for private health care for an unnamed person-- after the ordeal with his mother, he's actually terrified that he's going to discover some other traumatic figure from his family's past -- but he can't just not know. What if he can help this person? What if they are like his mother; a prisoner, held by fear and obligation and lack of power?

So he takes a trusted guard (they only have trusted guards left, everyone else has been rooted out or run or was lost in Gun's uprising, but Porsche can't think about that too much), and they go to the private hospital, and finds Big, hooked up to a bunch of machines, drugged just enough to not fight, but mostly healed. There are burns, but he's in one piece.

Porsche loses it a little, quietly demands that anything not necessary to keep Big comfortable be immediately stopped, and finds the presence of mind to call Kinn and to arrange for Big to be moved to the medical wing at the major family compound.

When Kinn arrives, Porsche is sitting next to Big's bed, holding his hand, and apologizing over and over into the blankets at Big's hip, where he's pressing his head. Big is starting to come out of the fog of drugs, and looking at Porsche with clear confusion on his face.

Kinn wasn't as prepared as he thought he was to see Big again, and between seeing his friend (he's come to terms with the truth of that, recently, that some of his men are more than just bodyguards, and that the careful distance he's curated doesn't make it easier to lose them, so it's pointless to pretend otherwise) alive after months thinking him dead, and seeing his lover crying at his side, he can barely decipher his own feelings. But he takes a seat beside Porsche, siding an arm around him, offering comfort, pressing a kiss to his temple, and adds his hand to the tangle of Porsche and Big's, squeezing their fingers together.

When Big's eyes meet his, Kinn finds himself crying, overwhelmed with too many feelings.

Big cuts the silence with a croaky "Hey, Boss," and Kinn laughs, startled. Porsche sits up at the sound of Big's voice, his mouth open in surprise, and his loose grip on Big --and now Kinn's -- hands tightening.

"Porsche," Big adds with a slight, sleepy nod and a semi-pointed look at their hands.

Porsche grins, wide and genuine, and tells Big "Hey, we're taking you home," sounding excited and guilty all at once, and Kinn loves him so deeply that he can hardly contain it.

Big looks uncertain for a brief moment, but then he grins back, still a little wobbly with whatever they've been giving him, but relieved and honest, and most importantly there to see at all.

There's a lot to coordinate, a lot to come, but Kinn and Porsche are more than happy to put in the work for this, to have one less unsaid goodbye haunting them, one less unoffered apology. One more friend at their side.

***

That was a lot more than I intended to actually write at the moment, oops 🤷🏼‍♀️

Anywho, if y'all like this, please let me know, and I'll hopefully get the real thing written.

Also, I'm not sure if this is heading in a poly-shippy direction, so I guess give me your thoughts on that, too, please! (Big deserves nice things, y'all)

#KinnPorsche #kinnporsche fic #kinnporschebig #Big lives!

[lupine-princess]

PSA

I am in the process of writing my first ever fan fiction. I have been a reader only for many years, but I finally listened to the encouragement the wonderful and esteemed @kittenofdoomage gave me at least a year or two ago now. Yeah, I know...it took that long for me overcome my own self doubt and silence the little demon in my brain that says mean things all the time, but I never forgot the lovely human above telling me to go for it.

While I am enjoying writing again (I've written for years but never really shared any of my work that wasn't for a class), I am finding myself having much more respect for writers than I already had and it was a LOT I swear. Just today I have spent an hour and a half on this story and the plot has moved forward...none. I've written quite a bit, but Main Female will *not* stop drooling over Main Male. Last night I stopped right after she firat saw him and her brain started functioning again. The story now just finished her reacting to him speaking for the first time. It took me an hour and a half to get here y'all! I mean girl, same, but this was *supposed* to be a one shot of maybe a couple thousand words. You know, just dipping my toes into writing again? This thing is now 10 pages long...I clearly underestimated a *lot*.

That's not to say there's not actual story happening, there is. But I'm a little freaked out by this and frustrated at the same time. Its a song fic, too so...given I'm telling the story of the song, it should have been easy-ish. Or easier than coming up with a story completely on my own right? Not. At. All! (And please note I'm not saying writing of any kind is easy, I just seem do better personally when I have something like a mental road map. Not everyone feels that way and that is totally fair and valid.)

Thing is, I shouldn't be surprised...this is a rabid plot bunny that has been tormenting me for *years.* The thing makes this thing ⬇

look like the very height of sweet and cute and cuddly. If I actually thought it would be quick or easy in any way, I clearly wasn't paying attention...

Anyway, I am going to be posting this thing in three parts on AO3 at the very least. On here, it might all be in one long post, because frankly, I have no idea how to do any of this or how complicated it will be. I'm really hoping someone will read it and give feedback, good or bad (constructive only if bad please), so I know what to work on. I really want to get back into writing again, so hopefully this will help?

I'm going to tag a few people when I post this thing (hopefully that's okay with them), because I follow them, love their work, and respect their opinions as writers. Anyone I follow that I don't tag, its not because I don't absolutely adore them, its because I can only summon so much bravery and that means that not everyone will get tagged that I would love to, unless they give me permission.

I'll go ahead a tag a couple of people so if they want to give or refuse permission, they can do that. Thanks in advance to everyone!

@kittenofdoomage @holylulusworld @impala-dreamer @jay-and-dean

#supernaural #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #Mystery pairing #probably no dialogue #dialogue terrifies me #how is sounding like a person so hard?! #first fan fiction #please be kind

[eledritch]

These fics can all be found on my AO3, @magisterpavus (which, for those who don’t know, basically means Master Peacock. It’s a pun/dick joke. And a reference to Dragon Age’s Dorian Pavus. The more you know!)

This fic list format is loosely inspired by jojo @arahir‘s fic list, here. 

I’ve organized fics by ship & series. I also have...some different emojis. Because damn, do I love my AUs. This list will be updated and accessible via sidebar link on my page. Enjoy!

(and, yes. seal it with a kiss does have 2 fire emojis. i think that’s warranted.)

KEY: 🔥explicit 🕯️slow burn 📚 multichapter 👽alien biology 🐉 fantasy/magic 🔪blood/injury 💔angst ⭐new/currently updating

SHEITH

Between the Shadow and the Soul (BTSATS) 🔥 🕯️ 📚 🐉 🔪 💔

161.6k  |  wild west au + old gods au + side of plance  |  keith saves a mysterious stranger in the desert and finds healing and love with him, along with a little magic.

Seal It With A Kiss (SIWAK) 🔥 🔥 📚 🐉🔪 💔

135.7k  |  witch + incubus au  |  after kerberos, keith will give anything to bring shiro back, including his soul.

⭐Gridlocked (Cybersheith) 🔥 📚 🔪 👽 💔

10.9k / wip |  cyberpunk au + galra keith + “dark” shiro  |  the world as they know it ended awhile ago, but keith & shiro are survivors. oh, and criminals.

In The Gray  🔥 💔

17.7k  | post “blackout” + astral plane shiro  |  shiro & keith secretly pine for each other. then shiro gets trapped as an astral ghost. pining intensifies. 

Rain, Rain, Go Away 🔥 💔

4.7k  | first time + pre-kerb |  keith waits for shiro.

Raw Honey 💔

4.7k  |  sequel to ^ + post-kerberos |  shiro returns to earth and it feels like a dream.

Death to the Angel  🕯️ 📚

26.3k / wip  |  victorian era a/b/o  |  keith and shiro learn to trust each other in a world built on hierarchical oppression on the basis of sex. 

Oh Captain, My Captain 🔥

8.1k  |  post s7 + authority kink + feelings  |  keith calls shiro captain even when he doesn’t have to anymore.

KLANCE

HOW TO TRAIN YOUR GALRA AU

Bonding Time 🔥 👽

9.4k  |  that one wild galra keith sex pollen fic  |  keith has a galra “problem” & lance lends a hand (among other things)

Pillow Talk 🔥

4.9k  |  no sex pollen, just sex  |  they switch & lance is a huge tease

Star-Crossed 🔪 💔

17.3k  |  did someone order a heaping plate of angst? |  keith & lance fight, lance gets lanced, and they both come to important realizations.

High Tide 🔥 👽

30k  |  domestic-vacation fluff & smut  |  lance plays right into keith’s possessive galra side, which ends up being a lot sweeter than he expected

He Who Fights Monsters  🕯️🔪 📚 🐉 💔

65k  |  post-apocalyptic/fantasy au  |  keith is a weird dragon who saves lance

Boys Will Be Boys  🔥🔪

6.7k  |  fight/make-up  |  lance & keith try to apologize and accidentally end up in bed together. shit happens, bro

The Royal Treatment 🔥 👽

12k  |  altean lance + galra keith, royalty au  |  hapless galra keith falls for the charms & wiles of a mysterious altean lord

Take A Hint  🕯️ 🔥

7k  |  older klance + mutual pining + miscommunication  |  lance thinks keith is oblivious. keith thinks lance is just thirsty. 

SHKLANCE

VAMPIRE BABES AU (THIHV)

Stars, Hide Your Fires 🔥 🕯️🔪🐉 💔 (prologue)

36.6k  |  sheith, early 1900s historical au  |  lone vampire shiro finds & turns keith

The Hurricane In His Veins 🔥 🕯️🔪 📚 🐉 💔  (main fic)

187.5k  |  shklance; urban fantasy au/gayer twilight?  |  lance finds two lonely vampires and a whole lot of magic

Against The Dying Of The Light 🔥 🔪 🐉 💔 (epilogue)

10k  |  shklance; angst, fluff, smut, & closure  |  keith’s past mistakes catch up to him

First Shift  🐉 (extra #1)

5.1k  |  shklance; au continuation  |  lance accidentally shapeshifts for the first time

Two for Two 🔥 🐉 (extra #2)

10k  |  shance centric; au continuation  |  lance & shiro make up for lost time

Behind Closed Doors 💔 (extra #3) 

6.7k  |  sheith, pre-thihv historical au  |  keith & shiro’s budding relationship as seen through the eyes of a loyal servant

BLADE REBELS AU

One in a Million 🔥 👽

9k  |  canon divergent, sex club au, altean lance + galra keith  |  retired military officer shiro finds surprising solace in two alien strangers

Open Him Up  🔥 👽

5.2k  |  galra keith body worship  |  shiro & lance agree keith needs to loosen up, in more ways than one

SHANCE

Be My Baby  🔥

5.6k  |  praise kink + size kink, D/s  |  lance can’t get over how Big shiro is

The Best Wingman Ever 🕯️

8.2k  |  mutually pining idiots + miscommunication + space mall date  |  shiro has a hopeless crush on lance & asks keith to be his wingman. this is a terrible idea.

SHANCE FAERY AU

Fairest Of Them All  🔥🔪🐉

16.8k  |  enemies to lovers + fae au  |  against all better judgment, shiro falls for faery lance

True Love’s Bite 🔥🔪 📚 🐉 💔

18k / wip |  love bite shance au  |  faery lord lance ends up with a lovestruck human shiro who uncontrollably adores him

SHALLURA

Finding Beauty 🐉

6k  |  fairytale au  |  cursed knight shiro goes on a quest to slay a dragon and save the kingdom. turns out, the dragon is cursed, too.

OTHER

⭐THE CHIQUITA CHRONICLES  🔥👽

A Helping...Hand?

14k  |  consentacles + lance  |  lance finds a friendly alien plant and names her chiquita

Operation Boyfriends

22.3k  |  consentacles + shklance  |  chiquita endeavors to get lance a bf or 2

Plants Have Fantasies Too

6.1k  |  consentacles + shiro + oviposition  |  shiro encourages chiqui to embrace her kinks. he has no regrets.

Keeping Secrets 

7.4k  |  consentacles + keith  |  chiqui helps keith get in touch with his very repressed galra side

#my fic #masterlist #voltron fic #hopefully this will make it easier for y'all to find fics! #it's also just for my own sanity lmao helps me keep track

[raksh-writes]

Me? Starting my fox!Void AU just to cope?

More likely than you think

#Raksh posts #starting the day stressed out and finishing it with mush of a brain yay #so I'm gonna indulge myself for the rest of the evening besides the reading Im planning to do later #I want to finish up this Void 'introduction' type of part #which is basically set up of him getting trapped escaping and then finding Stiles #it's quite different in tone to how the rest of the fics gonna be like but I kinda like it anyway #also! I finally decided to play around with pronouns so Void starts out with they #its far easier to write thna when I tried some months ago #but I still plan to move them to he/him - hopefully it will make sense with how I want to write it #Im gonna make a note about it in the fic too I think #also its probably going to end up being around 4-5 chapters with varying length #I have somewhat of a plan for all of them #so we'll see how that goes ^^ #I need to be careful with my wrists and arms but then again - I feel like I NEED this outlet to cope with how much stuff for finals I havexd #and today we got the info that we have to do four projects for one class instead of two soooo yeah #wish me luck y'all xd #also feel free to distract me xD so I dont go insane lmaoo #okay gonna go and try to write some more ^^

[benevolentcalamity]

Rescue Mission [Yautja (Wakate) x Human!Reader] PT2

The second part y'all have (hopefully) been waiting for. Now with the Xenomorph fic coming next we will play the part of [Redacted] and expand on her backstory since I do like acting smart. XD

... Ngl I've become pretty fond of these beefy bois so let me know if you want more of them. (Also yell at me to watch the movies if you would, Arnold Schwarzenegger makes everything better.) 

I wonder if the existence of the term "monsterfuckers" means there's "humanfuckers" in the monster world... Probably!

The third part will be the smut and last installment in this mini-series, so look forward to other monsters... maybe.

Also, there is a semi-graphic... scene with a Xenomorph, so proceed here with caution.

CURTAINS!

"We're almost there."

Alongside the observation you clutch your gun tighter, ready to raise and shoot the moment something isn't right.

Glancing about you sigh in relief as the pair of you destroy the eggs scattered about. "This was an ambush. They know we're closing in so they put these here to take care of us preemptively."

"But this implies they're breeding already, or the Queen was here before." Wakate's tone doesn't imply aggression or irritability. "My guess would be the latter."

"Yea. Her corpse was very fresh when we found her, so she was probably gunned down a day or two before [Redacted] and I arrived. That'd explain the eggs." You look around, blood about freezing when you see a trio of Xenomorphs just near a cluster of eggs leading into a cave. "Shit."

Noting Wakate getting ready to attack you tug his arm again, warranting his head snapping to you along the sound of his mandibles flaring.

"Get down!" You urge, whisper-yelling as you get him behind some plants and trees.

Once you're both kneeling you part some leaves, watching as the trio approach the mouth, pausing. At first they look around, snarling, before turning back to each other. They make a variety of sounds and motions, clearly communicating. One looks back into the cave, wiping his face, before going inside. For a moment you notice their anatomy differing slightly, noting how the ones staying outside seem more angular and aggressive.

"They're posting the stronger ones outside to protect the queen," You observe. "My guess is there's more around."

"So we take them out, go in, and save your friend," Wakate nods. "This we can accomplish."

"If it were that simple, yes." You nod, checking your shotgun rounds. "If we make too much noise we'll draw out more of them, and we'll be overwhelmed before we even realize it." You look back towards the pair. "If we can draw the guards away and take them out, we'll have an easier time inside the nest."

"And what do you suggest we do once inside?" He asks, wary.

"We go in, find the Queen's chamber, get [Redacted], and get out," You reply. "If we have to we can fight against the weaker ones, but there'll be too many of them. Definitely don't want to dance against them without backup, we just want to get her."

"Alternatively you could throw bombs in there and clean them out."

"This is also true." You touch the grenades in your backpack. "But we don't know how far in she is, so unless we know that we have no chance of knowing if she'll be affected by the blasts."

"Which brings me to another question." He shifts so he can lean closer to you. "Are you sure you want her back at your base after she's been here?"

Your heart skips a beat. "If we can get her back in time they can decontaminate her and suppress the Queen pheromones."

"You're guessing, though." He leans on an arm.

"I am. I don't know the ins and outs of Xenomorph biology, nor do I know the full details of their newfound compatibility with humans." You bite your lip, before sighing heavily. "But if we get there and she's already far-gone, I'll have to make a difficult decision."

"If we're vying for time, our best bet is drawing them into one spot and using explosives. If this nest has existed a good while that means the queen's chambers are far down. So if you're worried about injuring your friend, the chances are slim to none unless you're clumsy." Wakate points to your grenades. "Now unless you want to waste more time, Ooman, you'd better make your choice quickly."

Inhaling sharply, you at first reach for your grenades, before pausing. Right when your fingers touch them, you look back up at Wakate.

"When we take out the bulk of the outside Xenomorphs, I can slip past them unawares if you're intent on fighting them. Once I've retrieved [Redacted] I can back you up. They hate fire so use that to your advantage. If you feel you're overwhelmed, I want you to retreat immediately, okay?" You assert.

"Fleeing is a disgrace." He snorts. "Asking me to surrender is an even bigger one."

"There's victory in retreat, Wakate," You respond. "At the very least we can consolidate towards the mouth. There we should be able to fend them off even if one of my arms is occupied."

"Are we now?"

"Okay, Wakate."

"You're quite possibly one of the strangest Oomans I've ever met," He comments, but readies his gun. "... If there's anything I hate more than a Xenomorph, it's any sort of disgrace. So don't you dare let yourself die."

You grin. "Game's on, then. You ready?"

Pulling out a cluster, you charge, aiming to throw. "LEEROOOOOYYYYY JEEEENKIIIINS!!!"

___

“Ooman! Ooman, you’d better be alive down there!”

Poking your  head up from some destroyed eggs - confirmed to have no other threats in there, we’ll say - you cup your hands around your mouth.

“I’m fine! Must’ve destroyed this entire sac, so they broke my fall!” You call back. “Are you okay, Wakate?!”

“Yes! But the floor collapsing like that isn’t doing any good - damn things...” He’s more visible after leaning a bit closer to the hole you’re in. “... Or we just got lucky, Ooman. Do you see a tunnel nearby?”

For a moment, you survey your surroundings after standing. Eventually your eyes fall on an extra tunnel, and you light up despite the dread settled in your stomach.

“I do!” You shout.

“If you’re lucky, Ooman, you’ll be able to follow those egg sacs straight to the queen. If you can, just get her and run - I’ll make my way to you!” Wakate’s voice is thick with authority, like a general you used to serve with. Swiftly he turns, the sound of distant growling and hisses growing louder. “More of those Berserkers...” Raising his gun and getting in stance, he looks back down at you. “Get out of there!!!”

Picking up the cue, you swap your shotgun for a rifle - admittedly a gun you’re more adept with - and get to work. Squashing a dead creature you meander carefully down the cave, following the distant sounds of gunfire and roaring. Biting your lip as you pass some eggs, you carefully push through some debris and near-tumble some more. Admittedly feeling a bit vulnerable without Wakate you find yourself looking left, right, above, and over your shoulder every few steps.

This isn’t much different from your regular missions in enemy territory, but the primal fear of death, a reminder of your humanity and mortality, is always fresh.

You sigh through your nose. I really miss my dad. You miss home in general, so you may have to put in a request to return for the fall. Maybe you’ll have to reduce your time in the military at this rate; quite honestly you’ve had enough.

When it comes to Xenomorphs this is definitely not your first rodeo. Matter of fact being inside a nest is just as disgusting as you remember, those who share the memory being either long dead or retired. Many who have to deal with them put in their notice once they’re lucky enough to return alive, but the experience leaves terrible scars. Death would be a release for them, perhaps, but an honorable death is never in a nest, unless it’s with a gun in your hand.

But for those that remain in service and throw themselves back into the wasp’s nest, like yourself, it’s uncertain what exactly awaits.

“Please be okay, [Redacted]...” You shudder. “Both of us come home alive.”

A hiss, some thuds, and a growl wrench you from your thoughts. Hairs standing on end you dive behind some muck. Just then a Xenomorph, more stout and round like a bumblebee, rushes past. It doesn’t slow down or pause to look around, it just makes a beeline (haha) down the cavern.

It looks like a weaker subspecies. So it seems the more attacker types are concentrated wherever Wakate is. Whatever the case I’d better hurry up. You rise when the coast is clear and continue forward, clutching your rifle tightly. Even as strong as he is, he and I are a team. 

You don’t want to protect and fight with Wakate because you think he’s weak or an asshole - alright he is sort of an asshole but you’ve accepted that’s just Yautja - but because you genuinely care about his safety.

Hm? “What is that noise?” You whisper.

It’s like those pumps, where they’d have oil or water pumping into a reservoir or tank or something. A concentrated mass, like a bubble but it’s not, would pass through the tubes, and make a weird sound the whole journey. This particular sound is only broken up by the occasional growl or slap-like noise, throwing you off slightly. Even so the cold dread returns, weighing on your chest just as it does your stomach, solidified as eggs don’t just cluster but rather line up like soldiers in the upcoming cavern.

And there, just at the other end, is a sight you never thought you’d see in your life.

“[Redacted]!” You cry, throwing caution to the wind entirely.

Among clusters of eggs much unlike the others, she’s there, unconscious, naked from the waist down, covered in slimy goo - Xenomorph saliva - among small amounts of her own blood and other fluids you can’t quite name.

Surrounded by Xenomorphs just like the one before, only in stasis, she’s in the lap of one just like the one that had attacked the Nastromo. With large, horrible hands it’s holding her waist and shoulder, and as you get closer you realize its hips thrusting upward - and eventually the pitch black cock the size of your shin inside her.

Pursing your lips and furrowing your brow, you swallow the revolting scene before you and raise your gun. Just then the Xenomorph raises its head, and sees you. Its movement pauses, and it begins to snarl.

“Get away from her, you bitch!”

Enraged, it leans forward, screaming at you at the top of its lungs. Visibly fighting its instincts it takes a moment, looking down at [Redacted]. Pulling its cock out of her with an unceremonious schlop, it picks her up bridal-style in its hands, putting her delicately among the other Xenomorphs, assuming they can protect her even being in the state they are. Once it finishes it swiftly turns back towards you, beginning to approach you like a cougar to a rabbit as its mouth pours with copious amounts of saliva.

So whoever moves first, huh... Okay.

Leaning into the stock, you aim right for the chest, blasting it dead on. As the acid blood flies about you barely register it lunging, rolling out of the way and aiming once more. Roaring it gets right back into stance, charging before you can reload and forcing you to dodge again. It’s terribly fast and especially aggressive - it does see you as a threat to the queen aside from its dominative instinct to kill - so you’ll have to be even sharper.

This is a fight for your life and [Redacted]’s. Living for her, protecting her... Making it back to Wakate, too.

“Don’t you dare let yourself die.”

“Fuck you!” You shout, reloading and managing to put another cap in its leg as you strafe out of the way of a tail stab. “You ugly motherfucker!”

What fuels you in this moment, as you’re reloading and shooting with the occasional toss of a grenade, isn’t just the instinct and need to survive. It’s absolute, unbridled rage, determination to see your duty through to the end, and outright refusal to die to this creature. Everyone else is reason enough to make it, but you have no one but yourself in this moment, even with [Redacted] out of the line of fire and Wakate holding his own whilst making his way to you.

With each bullet, each side swipe, and laceration, the Xenomorph is growing angrier and angrier. It lunges, and with another roll out of the way you hurriedly recover. Every step you take, every breath, your heart pounds up into your throat, and your palms start to get sweaty. Your bullets are becoming fewer, but never wasted, whilst your trigger finger is never faltering.

This is it.

Rolling under a lunge for once - it’s come to expect you to go to the sides - you put one more cap in its back, your body beginning to ache from the strain. Sweat pouring from your brow you momentarily glance at your bullets.

One. Bullet.

One bullet, and this will be made or broken. Either you’ll save your own life and [Redacted]’s, or leave Wakate to face the music.

“Alright...” You raise your gun one more time.

A lunge from the creature, and everything is suddenly in slow motion. Delicately, almost, your rifle’s barrel is perfectly lined with the weak spots you’ve created in the creature. With this last shot you could finish all this - and you will.

Exhaling raggedly but coolly through gritted teeth, you squeeze the trigger, resolute acceptance of death clashing with determination in your chest as the bullet flies free. Closing your eyes, you lower your gun, opening your ears for any more movement, a hiss to tell you your life has ended; a scream of a last moment of flurried rage. Your brain mimics the sensation of enormous, monstrous hands gripping you to rip you a brand new face, or spit flying onto your body to foretell a violent, instantaneous death.

But none of this happens. Rather, you merely hear the sounds of drips, of a sound more like sizzling. Opening your eyes, you step back and onto some elevation to avoid the acid blood, following its trail to the Xenomorph. Still twitching with angry attempts at springing back up with one final scare, it weakly hisses, clawing languidly at the ground. Approaching it, you tug out a grenade, shoving it into the newborn cavity with your foot, your soles only burning slightly with minimal contact with the blood.

“Bye.”

You retreat to the other side of the cavern, and no sooner do you reach that wall that the grenade explodes following its horrified scream. Flesh and blood spray everywhere, some limbs still intact and others looking like paper mush. With the settling reassurance that the fight is over, you allow yourself to collapse onto your knees, hands falling onto your thighs as you catch your breath. Momentarily lamenting leaving your canteen by mistake, you raise a hand to hold the communicator button.

“Johnson, come in. [Name] reporting.”

“What’s the sitrep?”

“[Redacted] is confirmed alive, mostly unharmed but... well...” You raise your head to look over at her as she momentarily stirs. “... Ah, Johnson, do Xenomorphs have genitals?”

“...”

“Johnson, come in.”

“Newer variants were reported with genitalia matching mammals, yes.”

“Oh, good. One’s been using ‘em. I’d suggest preparing the base for decon when we return with [Redacted].”

“Affirmative. As for the Yautja?”

“We got separated in the nest, but I’m sure he’s still alive.” You blink at the distant sound of gunfire and flesh tearing. “... Stand by.”

Standing, you reach for your pistol, preparing to fire at another Xenomorph. To your relieved surprise one comes flying into the cavern- quite literally, actually. It’s very dead, from how it doesn’t immediately jump back up and scream. Before you can question it, though, Wakate’s hulking frame stomps in. Breathing with relief you relax, hand falling from your communicator.

“Wakate, I’m here!” You declare, rushing toward him.

He doesn’t immediately respond aside from nodding to acknowledge you. For a moment he looks around, clearly aware that there was a fight here, before his eyes fall on the gory remains of the Xenomorph you blew up. Approaching it, he kneels down, looking it over. Nodding again, he raises a hand to beckon you over. Tilting your head you comply, scrunching up your nose at the smell as you kneel beside him.

Blinking, you watch as he finds some still oozing blood, dipping his fingers in it. Turning to you, he uses a free hand to smooth back the loose hair over your forehead. Closing your eyes tight you clench your teeth as your skin burns, him using the acid blood to mark your forehead. Once he finishes you inhale sharply, swallowing and clutching your pants to avoid touching it.

“All in a day’s work, huh.” You take a moment to crack your knuckles. “Wakate, I’m out of bullets in my rifle, but I can use my pistol. If I carry her I can still shoot, but my trigger finger won’t be as on the mark. Can I count on you?”

He stares at you in visible contemplation, the telltale sound of his mandibles touching through his helmet before he nods.

“Always.”

Satisfied, you stand up, turning and approaching [Redacted]. Lowering yourself onto your haunches you wipe some (luckily not acidic) fluid off of her face. Just then she stirs, looking at you with tired eyes. Upon recognizing you she lights up slightly, smiling weakly in her exhaustion.

“I knew you were coming...” She whispers. “... Hey, [Name]?”

“Yeah?” You wrap some gauze - tragically it’s all you have - around her nethers and hips, making it look more like zombie apocalypse panties.

“Do you think these stains will come out of my clothes?” She asks, and you can’t help but erupt into laughter as you move her so you can carry her in your arms, your pistol at the ready with your finger off the trigger.

“Yea, they will.” You start walking as Wakate turns to lead the way out. “It’s over now, [Redacted]. We’re goin’ home.”

#yautja #yautja x reader #yautja x human #xenomorph #my writing #alien #aliens vs predator #predator #monster x human #monster fic

[bibbykins]

-Hi, hello my love 💕 I hope you and the misses are having a great weekend☺️💕 I was wonderinggggg (I’m not sure if you’ve posted this before, if you have, my bad🥲) if you’d be able to make a list of series recommendations to read? ☺️ I’m curious as to what YOU find interesting and attention worthy! Aaaaaand I’m running out of things to read while we wait for your next addition 🥲😂

Hello my dear!! And the weekend is going well!! My gf had a stressful week at work but it all turned out okay and I've been finding writing a little easier as we go!

Also thank you for asking! I think I did post something a loooong time ago and I literally cannot find it anywhere nor do I remember what I put on there, so I'd be happy to make another!

I will preface this by saying I am going to miss a ton of writers, bc I'm doing this one real quick and I'm quite dumb lmaoo I hope to make a whole fic rec blog but I keep getting busy :( so this list is not all-inclusive but just what comes to mind and I encourage y'all to recommend me stuff too!!

The bulk of this list is just going to be authors whose masterlist I plow through regularly but if I have a specific series of theirs I like the most I will try to link it! (Also sorry to anyone Tumblr doesn't let me tag correctly!)

I'm also lucky enough to have a lot of people on this list as mutuals which I'm super thankful for!! I appreciate all of you (mutuals or not) so much for sharing your talents in the form of beautiful works!

@rapline-heaux comes to mind first, pls read their stuff OMG!! The College Au and Possess Your Heart is beautiful and she's also super great in general!

@purpleyoonn is someone I just started reading from and Petrichor is nothing short of life-changing!! I'm making my way through her masterlist rn and ugh I LOVE IT

@bebejungkook is also someone I just started reading from and the talent!!

@jjungkookislife is someone I rediscovered and they are unbelievably talented also their new series Envolver has me by the throat lmao

@minniepetals my OT7 queen!! Not only is she super sweet she's super great at making you fall in love with all the characters she writes!! I cannot pick a fav series it's like picking a fav child lmao

@btsydtrash is another talented writer that I cannot pick a fav series for because OH MY GOD she is so talented I love her whole masterlist

@chummywchimmy I have reread both parts of Toska several times it is foul how much I love it!

@jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue you all already know how much I love Blue, it is and will continue to be soulmate behavior the way all of their fics have me in a chokehold! I just finished their Office hybrid au and am salivating for the third part but their whole masterlist has me on my KNEES

@scribblemetae is settling back and I'm really happy to see someone so talented taking the break they need and writing on their terms! Everything they write is gold so please show your support!!

@lonelyhobi is another extremely sweet and talented writer who I seriously admire!!

@bangtans-apollo Literally don't talk to me until you've read the Fanclub series like ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I am kept continuously fed and am forever grateful!! Everything they write is amazing like ughhhhh

@worldwidemochiguy I have no words other than the one begging you to read their fics pls do thx bye

@ninetailedfoxmanchi am in love with everything they post!! I'm running out of words but pls believe it's all amazing!

I'm getting tired so I'm going to end it here but I know in my bones I am missing a ton of talented people so hopefully I'll get the energy to add to this but in the meantime, enjoy!

P.S. I'm sorry to my mutuals I'm so bad at interacting with my mutuals I'm extremely awkward and terrified of bothering people but just know ily!! I'm just too chicken to slide into your dms :') mentally I'm there though I promise lmao

#ask #fic rec

[jinmukangwrites]

Gifts

Read on AO3

Prompt

Summary: Wild tells of the gifts the past Champions have given him. All that's left is for the others to witness these gifts.

Warnings: Descriptions of injury, temporary character death.

Notes: Finally got a prompt done. Y'all proud of me? If you are, then know I wrote this instead of Chapter 2 of Succumb because I'm an awful creature who has a solid idea for the entire fic except Chapter 2 and I'm avoiding it. Stop being proud of me now.

---

“How about you, Champ?”

Wild blinks from the daze he's fallen into and looks up to see eight pairs of eyes all looking right at him. The moon hangs lazily above them, nothing more than a C-shape tied to the stars to watch them all talk themselves to sleep. Wild’s zoned out of this one, for reasons he can’t really explain why. It’s not that what they’re talking about tonight is particularly dull or offensive. It’s just… well… they’re talking about magic and discussing the common theme that seems most sources of magic that they know has been given to them.

Time and Great Fairies. Hyrule and wise men in caves. Wild’s sure the others all have similar stories, he’s just decided to not listen to them tonight.

“About me?” He asks hopefully. Maybe they have changed topics while he was trying to decide what the woodchip by his boot resembles.

Four leans forward on his knees, wiggling his eyebrows. “Any magical gifts that you’ve been holding out on us?”

Wild tries not to let his disappointment show on his face. “Ah.” He curls his fingers around the hem of his tunic before they could nervously knit with each other on his lap. “Nothing that’s important.”

Besides him, Twilight scoffs. “Nothing that’s important? Cub, either you really are holding out on us or you’re being humble.”

“Wild? Humble?” Warriors snorts. “Perish the thought.”

Wild sighs. “Really, I don’t have any cool stories to tell tonight. I’d much rather listen to you all.”

“Listen, huh?” Four challenges, grinning like an imp. “Who taught Hyrule how to shoot fire from his sword?”

Wild rolls his eyes. “Some old guy in a cave.”

“Actually,” Hyrule says with a soft, apologetic smile, “it was an old man in a basement.”

“What is up with you and old men?”

“Anyway,” Twilight says, giving Wild a hard look, “you’re obviously not listening. Is something wrong? You’re usually more talkative.”

Does Twilight have to be a doting old mother in front of everyone? Wild can feel himself bristling. “Maybe I just don’t feel like talking tonight. Vet isn’t talking and you’re not pestering him.”

“That’s because Vet never talks about himself,” Warriors says, foiling Wild’s entire argument. Legend has a smug look on his face. “Not unless he’s trying to heighten his own ego.” Legend’s smug look falls into a glare.

“Fine,” Legend says. “I’ll tell one. Then Champ can tell one, so that you all will get off both of our backs.”

“It has to be serious, Leg,” Wind butts in, completely oblivious to Wild’s dying hope of getting out of this conversation. “No ‘I got my magic from being super cooler than everyone else’ bull.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Legend snaps. “Besides, I don’t have magic. I have magical items. Which is just as useful.”

“Then what’s that one?” Sky points at the small clay ocarina in Legend’s hands. “You’ve been holding it all night.”

Legend stills and his face softens, and immediately the whole group can tell that whatever that ocarina is, Legend has feelings attached to it. He takes a deep breath. “It’s not very magic,” he says, his fingers rubbing over the holes reverently. “It used to be able to summon a gust of wind to take me wherever I needed to go. It could also awaken the dead under specific circumstances… now it’s nothing but clay. It doesn’t work anymore.”

“Where’d you get it?” Wind asked, and not unkindly. He, like the rest of the group, knows that Legend wouldn’t be holding an item so tenderly if it only didn’t work anymore.

Legend stays silent for a moment, allowing the crickets in the forests to sing uninterrupted. Then, his shoulders fall. “The most beautiful woman I ever met gave it to me. She had the most lovely voice. This… after… after I lost her, I woke up stranded at sea. It was around my neck on a string… it’s all the proof I have that she ever existed.”

Silence hangs over the group like a heavy blanket. Wild can’t help but feel a lob of guilt get stuck in his chest. All he can do is sit and watch Sky lean over and place a hand on Legend’s knee.

“Love is one of the most powerful magics an item can hold, even if it’s just a good memory.”

Legend brings a sleeve to his eye, holding the ocarina tightly with his other hand. “Oh shut it, you sap,” he says through a smile. Sky smiles back, and Wild curls his arms across his chest.

Besides him, Twilight looks at him. Not expectantly, though, but with understanding. Perhaps he knows now why sometimes someone would wish to stay silent during these kinds of nights. Not everyone got magical gifts from old men in caves. Or basements.

But the guilt sits, and no one is saying it’s Wild’s turn to spill some beans. Not even Legend. But how could he stay silent after Legend told something so personal and sad? It’s not fair, even if he’s the only one who thinks so.

He bites the arrow and takes a breath.

“I don’t have magic. I have… blessings. From friends I had before the Calamity.”

For the second time that night, eight pairs of eyes fall onto him.

“I don’t use them much anymore,” Wild continues; somehow his hands have made it to his lap anyways, knitting his fingers together like string on needles, “they gave me everything they had so I could defeat Calamity Ganon. Now that he’s gone, I don’t want to abuse their gifts any longer.”

“I don’t mean to pry…” Four says, “but maybe they gave you everything they had to help you. Maybe they didn’t consider it abuse.”

And somehow, Wild doesn’t feel like Four is prying at all. In fact, it startles a chuckle out of him. “Maybe. But not Revali, that’s for sure. He and I got along worse than Vet and Cap.”

“Not an easy feat,” Warriors says to the others while nudging Legend with his elbow. Legend rolls his eyes. “I’m impressed.”

“What blessing did he give you?” Wild asks. There’s stars in his eyes that always get there when he gets too interested in a story. Though, Wild supposes any story involving a rival-ship greater than their very own Legend and Warriors is something to be interested in.

“It was the power to call upon the gusts of wind he used to command with his powerful wings. He was a Rito, the best there ever was. He could fly into the air without having to jump off of ledges. The wind would carry him up itself, like it belonged to him.”

-o-o-o-o-

Agony is a poison pulsing through Hyrule’s leg. The fall had been great, and it’s a miracle Wild had been there to dive down and at least try to lesson the fall with his paraglider. The ground was weak in these desert-y canyons, and maybe Hyrule shouldn’t have gotten so close to the ledge to warrant his boot’s slipping, but at least Wild was there.

Hyrule’s ankle is broken, or at least badly sprained. Either way, it’s painful enough that he can’t even stand up as Wild paces the bottom of the crevasse they have found themselves in like a pair of cornered animals. The others… they’re close to an hour’s worth of time away. He and Wild were exploring and gathering whatever they could find that might be used as firewood as the sun began to set. It’s been a terribly awful day of traveling in the desert heat, and he and Wild were excited to experience the sunset’s breeze while the others set up camp.

They got too excited. Too far away. There’s no way anyone will hear them if they call. No one will come looking until the sky is black.

And who knows, maybe they won't consider that maybe they fell. Maybe, if they come looking, they won't look down the right scar in the land, and they will burn to death in tomorrow's sun.

“What do we do?” Hyrule asks through an embarrassingly choked voice. He’s been fighting tears since the moment his ankle bent wrongly in their crash landing. He knows Wild will not judge him for sobs, but it doesn’t make it any easier for him to allow any to escape.

Wild sighs and glares up at the lip of the cliff they’ve fallen from. “Any trinkets?” he asks back.

Hyrule bites his lip. He wishes he were like the others and had a trinket for every situation. Legend had promised to give him an old grappling hook he had hoarded away the next time they end up at his and Ravio’s place. “No.”

“Okay,” Wild says. Not angrily. “Okay.”

Determined?

“Champ?”

Wild takes a deep breath and looks down at Hyrule with… fire in his eyes. “I won’t be long. Will you be okay while I fetch the others?”

Hyrule licks his lips and looks down at his leg, already braced with brush twigs and the wrappings that usually decorate Wild’s arms. A cold breeze blows suddenly, making Hyrule shiver and remember the desert only takes what it’s given when it comes to heat. When the sun’s up, it thrives, and when it’s gone…

“Don’t take long,” he replies, even though he doesn’t really know what Wild’s about to do.

Wild nods, shrugging off the cloak he usually always wears and gives it to Hyrule. Hyrule nods his thanks and takes the warm accessory, placing it over his head and wrapping the caped section around his shoulders.

He watches as Wild walks towards the edge of the cliff facing where the others are with camp. Hyrule wonders what he’s about to do as he clings to the edge of the cloak. Wild unfolds his paraglider from his back, baffling Hyrule even more, and widens his stance.

A moment passes. Then another.

Then a gust of wind appears seemingly out from the floor, powerful enough to blow dust back and almost get in Hyrule’s eye if he hadn’t instinctively covered his eyes. There’s a flash of teal through his fingers… then an unfamiliar voice snorts.

“About time, runt.”

By the time Hyrule deems it safe enough to uncover his eyes without getting dust in them, Wild is already high in the air. The miracle gust of wind cyclones in the spot his friend used to be, growing weaker and weaker by the second before it’s gone completely. There’s no sign of whoever made that flash of teal… nor who spoke, but Hyrule doesn’t think too into it as Wild drops his paraglider and grabs onto the upper ledge of the cliff.

Far above him, Wild climbs to safety and looks over the edge. He waves, and Hyrule cannot help the giggle that climbs through his throat as he waves back.

Pain in his ankle be damned, whatever Wild just did was cool, and as Wild turns and runs towards the others he knows he won't be in pain for long.

Not much longer than an hour passes before the others come with their ropes and grappling hooks and worried voices. Wild glides down to him to help carry him up. There’s something about the way he stands that gives Hyrule the feeling that he… realized something today. He gives Hyrule a bottle of health, then helps tie a rope around his waist as his ankle begins to hurt a little less.

As he’s lifted off the ground towards the top of the cliff by his friends, he looks at Wild who is clinging tight to Hyrule’s body like a stronger lifeline than any rope or chain.

“Was that Revali?” He asks, without really thinking.

Wild looks at him with wide eyes, and then a wider smile. “Yeah.”

Hyrule smiles back. “He sounded like an asshole.”

A startled laugh bursts from Wild’s mouth as he throws his head back. “He is an asshole,” he agrees in good nature.

They reach the top. They reach the others. Twilight scolds their ears off the entire way back towards camp, and Hyrule can't stop grinning for his own safety… and for whatever mended in Wild’s heart tonight.

-o-o-o-o-

“What about the others?”

“Well… ah… there’s Daruk. He was one of my oldest friends. The strongest Goron there ever was, though he was a little fearful of dogs.” Wild laughs, as do the others politely; probably imagining the biggest Goron they could be scared of a small fluffy animal. “He had the strength to block anything, and he was always ready to take a blow for the team. Even after… even after… he still protected me. He gave me the ability to call upon even a fraction of that power, that way nothing could hurt me in case my own shield failed. Without him… I would not be here, I’m confident in that.”

-o-o-o-o-

They honestly should have expected an ambush before Warriors was the one to call it out. Four likes to consider himself lucky for coming from a comparatively peaceful time, relatively speaking, but even he should have expected the top of the hill to be lined with determined monsters with big rocks.

The first few moments of watching the boulders come down feels almost like Four is stuck in time. There’s nowhere to run, the expanse of the monsters at the top is too great. Left or right would bring more chances of being hit. They can’t run back down the hill and outrun the danger either. Their only option is to dodge through the rocks until they can get to the top and take out the danger.

Distantly, as time spreads up, Four is aware of Time and Wild each releasing arrows towards the top of the hill, igniting various monsters on fire, but soon it becomes pure chaos. He can only focus on himself as he does his best to jump out of the way of rocks that are much bigger than him. The colors in his brain scream as he tries to remain calm and collected. No Blue, he can’t just jump over the boulders because it will look cool. Red please calm down you’re screaming too loudly. He knows to go left, Green!

It’s a miracle he’s managed to last this long with the confusion. Which is why he’s not surprised when something finally hits its mark. He’s just glad that when the agony of a shattered bone shoots through his body, it’s only his right shoulder that took the brunt of the hit.

Not that he has time to be thankful for that. After the boulder hits into his side, his balance is knocked right out of him. He ends up crashing to the tilted floor in a jumble of limbs and dust. There’s tears in his eyes, and he can barely focus enough to lift himself back up. His entire arm feels like he’s stuck it into the mouth of a dragon—teeth and all. His chest feels tight and his hip all bruised. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’s broken a few ribs as well.

He barely has enough time to look ahead of him from where he lies on the ground. There’s another boulder bouncing right towards him. If… if he doesn’t move now… he will surely die.

But he cannot move. He cannot move because his entire side hurts too badly for him to go at a speed that matters. He closes his eyes and tries to make himself smaller. Maybe, if the goddess decides she likes him today, she will allow the boulder to bounce over him… or something as unlikely.

Either way, he accepts whatever fate he’s about to meet, even as he hears Sky scream his name.

And maybe it’s because he’s a coward and he’s scared, but he opens his eyes to look at his approaching doom. Only… that’s not all that he sees. What he sees is Wild jump out right in front of him with a ball of orange energy surrounding his entire body. A surge of horror swells inside of his belly the moment he sees this. Is Wild serious?!

Then, a heartbeat passes, and the boulder rams right into Wild. What happens next, though, Four would never have guessed. The orange energy explodes in shatters around him. Standing over Wild, however, is a ghostly Goron that’s bigger than anything Four’s ever seen. He shouts as the boulder stops in its tracks, crumbling before his mighty fists.

“I got you, little buddy,” Daruk’s spirit says. Then, the teal spirit disappears with the orange energy, leaving Wild standing there with the shattered remains of the boulder at his feet. Up the hill, Warriors, Legend, Time, and Sky take out the remaining monsters before they can release any more rocks.

Wild turns towards Four with a crazed, adrenaline fueled gaze. There’s a grin on his face though, one that Four finds himself matching.

Next thing he knows, Twilight, Hyrule, and Wild are rushing to his form and shoving various medicine bottles into his face; of which he takes gratefully.

“Thank you, Wild,” Four makes sure to say once he’s finally back on his feet with a makeshift sling over his only slightly aching arm. Wild turns towards him to give a blushing smile. He rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

“I couldn’t just watch you die. It’s the least I could do.”

Four hums. “I’m still thankful. Though… your Goron friend looked big enough to squish me between his fingers.”

Wild grins. “Daruk wouldn’t do that. It’s his hugs you have to watch out for.”

Four’s sure that if Daruk’s hugs are anything like Wild’s, then those hugs would be very tight indeed.

“I will take your word for it, then.”

-o-o-o-o-

“And then there’s Urbosa. She… if you think you’ve met a scary Gerudo, then you haven’t met her.” Wild waves his hands in the air, only slightly aware that he’s getting too invested in this story now. He didn't mean to spill his guts on his past friends tonight, but here he is, living their memory. Passing on their stories to his new friends. He finds he doesn’t mind it as much as he did several minutes ago. He doesn’t know why he was afraid. “She was the leader of her people, and she could summon lightning onto anyone who's ever defied her. She fought armies of Yiga all on her own and came out without a scratch. She’s blessed me with the ability to summon lighting as well. It’s my most powerful attack, and it’s saved my ass more times than I can count.”

-o-o-o-o-

This is bad. Very bad. Time can’t even properly express how bad this is.

An ambush of monsters? That’s manageable. He has confidence in himself and his companions to be able to handle a meager ambush. However, this? This is a whole army of monsters. Lizalfos, apparently, like to group up in camps when they’re not scrambling around in ancient dungeons and temples.

There’s enough to outnumber the heroes five-to-one. It’s not impossible to take them down if they had stuck to the outer edges of the camp and took a good portion of them out with long ranged attacks… however what happened was much less graceful. They walked into the forest, intending to make a camp for the night, just to wander right into a community of Lizalfos armed to the tails.

So now? They’re running; the monsters in an excited chase. Like Time said: This. Is. Bad.

“We lead them to the river,” Warriors suggests, ever thinking of solutions. “We can push them in and weaken their numbers.”

“I say we turn and fight!” Wind shouts. He looks too excited. He pulls a bomb out from his satchel and before Time can say anything, the boy turns around and throws it at their pursuers. There’s a blast, a few screeches, but nothing significant happens. The numbers are too great. Wind is pulling out another bomb.

“The river,” Time says, nodding at Warriors. Wind cheers as another explosion erupts. He leaves the boy to it. As long as he keeps up. “It’s the best bet.”

Time turns his head to tell the others about the makeshift plan, but before he can say a thing Wild looks him straight in the eye. “Have everyone get as far as you can away, I know what to do.”

“What?” Time asks, baffled.

Wild doesn’t explain. He just turns heel and runs the other way towards the enemy.

“Cub?!” Twilight shouts, turning around as well to grab his wayward protégé, but Time grabs his shoulder and keeps him running in the opposite direction. Twilight gives him a panicked look.

“I don’t know what he plans,” Time explains, “but he seems confident. Trust him.”

Twilight swallows and nods. Time shouts at the others to pick up the pace.

Behind him, the Lizalfos screech in delight, a sign they and Wild have now met face-to-face.

Whatever you’re about to do, wild one, do it now.

He doesn’t have to wait long. The smell of ozone becomes intoxicating all within a heartbeat. The hairs at the back of his neck rise as the sky goes impossibly dark for the time of dusk that it is. Then, light flashes all around him in thunderous claps. He can barely hear the sound of screaming monsters over the bolts. Time can’t help but stop in his tracks and turn, lifting a hand above his brow to see green lighting like he’s never seen before attacking the earth through the trees.

As soon as it begins, it ends, and the sky brightens with silence.

Time doesn’t waste time running forward. What he finds when he runs towards the small clearing Wild had met the monsters in is something he will never forget. Static energy seems to curl around his hand, raised into the air and on the end of a snap. Beside him stands a tall Gerudo woman, cloaked in a ghostly aura, her back towards the others and her hand on Wild’s shoulder in triumph and fierce protection. There’s nothing but black, charred corpses of monsters around them.

Time watches, as do the others, transfixed as Urbosa looks down at Wild and smirks.

“You should have called earlier, my desert flower.”

-o-o-o-o-

Everyone looks so transfixed, that Wild almost moves on without really thinking about it. Only… the words catch in his throat. He finishes telling of Urbosa, and just… freezes. His hands are back in his lap, wringing each other out.

He was so engrossed with his own stories that he’s forgotten that while he loves each of his past friends equally… not all are so easy to talk about.

The others must sense his inner struggle, as none of them call out his sudden silence. He knows that if he decided to stop now and not tell them of his last blessing… they would not argue. They must know this pause is similar to when Twilight stops talking about his adventure when he reaches the point where he meets a mysterious companion. Similar to when Time pauses in his magical tales of his childhood. Similar to when Sky looks off in the distance with his voice trailing off as he tells of special places in the sky.

It’s a pause of loss. A pause of something cherished. A pause of something that you fought so hard for, but will never come back.

A hand falls on top of his own. He recognizes the shape of Twilight’s calluses without having to look up at him. “You do not have to force yourself to continue,” he says.

Wild shakes his head. “I’m alright. I can continue…”

A beat of silence. Wild takes a breath.

“Last is… Mipha. Not only was she the most beautiful Zora I’ve ever met, but also the most beautiful soul. She… would always be there for me… whenever I got hurt. She could heal my wounds better than any potion. I…” his throat bobs, the words are no longer coming. “I cannot bring myself to tell of her gift. It’s too special. I pray I never have to use it again, nor must any of you witness it.”

-o-o-o-o-

Twilight didn’t know what to think when the attack had begun. It didn’t start with a shout. It didn’t start with the enemy running screaming out from the shadows of the trees with swords raised. It didn’t start like any kind of monster attack that Twilight had grown so used to.

It’s probably why they were unprepared for an attack by something smarter than monsters. Something that has no problem sitting quietly in the trees, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He’s heard that there’s a group of former Sheikah in Wild’s world who have it in for the hero’s life, he just never really expected to meet them.

That’s probably why the arrow met it’s mark too. They’ve all grown accustomed to the sloppy ambushes put together by monsters. It’s the only thing Twilight can think of to justify how none of them saw it coming until there was a thwip of a feathered arrow flying through the air… and landing with a thunk in Wild’s stomach.

Wild fell to the ground, and with a flash of cards and light appeared several Yiga Clan members. Nobody stopped to stare. It was pure rage from the heroes at that point, and as soon as it began the Clan members all put their hands together and retreated into seemingly thin air. It all ended about as soon as it began.

And the only thing he could think about now is Wild laying there on the ground in a growing pool of his own blood. The arrow still sticks out of his midsection, undoubtedly having hit something important judging by the trail of red going down the corners of his mouth.

Twilight is the first to run up to his side, but thanks to the quick thinking of Warriors, he’s not the first to offer a way of healing.

However, by the time the bottle of the red potion reaches his life stained lips… it’s too late. Twilight can only stare in horror as the light leaves Wild’s eyes.

The Yiga Clan… they’ve succeeded… and everyone knows it when Warriors falls backwards in defeat to sit on his heels, looking down at the full bottle of healing in his hands. Sky falls to his knees. Hyrule chokes a cry. Twilight's sure the rest of them are feeling their own reactions of grief, but he can no longer pay attention to anything but his own.

He’s… he’s failed. The one person he swore he would protect… pass on his ways… his stories… his teachings… it’s all for nothing. All it is now is a gaping hole in his heart. His cheeks are wet with tears that came too quickly.

Suddenly, something happens. There’s a flash of teal, and somewhere behind him someone gasps. Twilight can only watch with wide, tear-drowned eyes, as the teal swirls around into the glowing form of a beautiful Zora.

All eyes are on her, but hers are on Wild. There’s a fondness to her face that could be mistaken for sadness. Her hand brushes his cheek, and to Twilight's surprise Wild blinks and breathes in a soft breath. The hole in his stomach glows bright blue… and the arrow dissipates in shining bubbles.

“I will always heal you when you need me, my love.”

Then, she’s gone before anyone, including Wild, can respond.

Wild slowly raises himself to his elbows, blinking and smiling sheepishly like he’s never gotten even a scratch.

“I’m sorry you all had to-” he begins, but Twilight cuts him off by launching himself forward and wrapping the idiot in his arms. Mipha’s gift, the one he wouldn’t tell them about because it was too special, the one he never wanted them to witness…

He’s such an idiot.

“Shut up,” Twilight says through a tight breath. “Thank the spirits… just let me hold you.”

Wild doesn’t say anything, he just returns the embrace and the hold just as tightly.

Thank Hylia and all of the goddesses for this miracle. Wild clearly has friends that care so much about him that they would protect him fiercely even after their deaths. Twilight knows that from now on, he will spend his nights praying thankfulness to them. Wild is a formidable hero, one of the best in fact, yet Twilight can only imagine where he would be without these gifts. Imagining it makes his gut twist, however, so he squeezes his hold just once before letting go.

He smiles at the younger boy, and Wild smiles back, everything that needs to be said being translated there alone. You scared me. I’m sorry. Don’t apologize, just be more careful. No promises… but I will try.

The wordless conversation passes between them in a moment, and the moment is broken by Wind pouncing onto Wild. Wild, the poor boy, is shoved straight onto his back from the force of the tackle, yet he’s laughing as Wind calls him an idiot over and over. Everyone else gathers as well, to tell him they’re glad he’s alive in their own ways. Time places a hand on Twilight’s shoulder and shares a knowing look.

“Let’s set up camp early tonight,” he says, and Twilight cannot help but agree.

As Time announces the plan to the others, separating the others and telling them to give Wild some space, Twilight lets his heart calm. Wild always says he was alone in his adventures, but now he knows that that wasn’t all true. He also knows now why Wild doesn’t abuse the abilities his friends gave him.

With a silent vow, he promises Revali, Daruk, Urbosa, and Mipha that he will work harder to protect their boy. For now, Wild has been barred from making dinner tonight, and Twilight has to be sure that Hyrule gets nowhere near the cooking pot.

#linked universe #hero of the wild #jin writes #fanfiction #violence tw #temporary character death #ficlet #blood tw

[itsclydebitches]

Here's a quandary I've suddenly found myself in: where do you stand on writers deleting their own works, fanfiction or otherwise? I've had this happen to me on more than one occasion - I go to look for an old favorite and find it's since been deleted from whatever site I read it on.

On the one hand, I'm inclined to think that, "Sure. The author wrote it, it's their call. I don't own the work - I certainly didn't pay for it. It's their decision, even if it's disappointing."

But at the same time I can't help but consider the alternative - if I believe in death of the author (and I do), that an author's work fundamentally isn't solely theirs once it's been published, posted, etc., then it also seems wrong to have a work deleted. Stories aren't the sole property of their creator, after all.

But then I circle back. D'you think there are different obligations between authors and readers and the works being made in fandom space? I know if I had bought a book and the author decided they wanted it back, I would feel pretty comfortable telling them no, given I'd paid for it and whatnot. But that's a different world from fanfic and fandom space generally.

So. You're insightful Clyde, I'm curious as to what you'll have to say here (and to all y'all thinking about it, don't flame me. I haven't decided where I stand here yet - haven't heard a good nail-in-the-coffin argument for or against yet).

Val are you a mind reader now? I’ve been thinking about this exact conundrum the last few days!

(And yeah, as a general disclaimer: no flaming. Not allowed. Any asks of the sort will be deleted on sight and with great satisfaction.)

Honestly, I’m not sure there is a “nail-in-the-coffin argument” for this, just because—as you lay out—there are really good points for keeping works around and really good points for allowing authors to have control over their work, especially when fanworks have no payment/legal obligations attached. In mainstream entertainment, your stories reflect a collaborative effort (publisher, editor, cover artists, etc.) so even if it were possible to delete the physical books out of everyone’s home and library (and we're ignoring the censorship angle for the moment), that’s no longer solely the author’s call, even if they have done the lion’s share of the creative work. Though fanworks can also, obviously, be collaborative, they’re usually not collaborative in the same way (more “This fic idea came about from discord conversations, a couple tumblr posts, and that one headcanon on reddit”) and they certainly don’t have the same monetary, legal, and professional strings attached. I wrote this fic as a hobby in my free time. Don’t I have the right to delete it like I also have the right to tear apart the blankets I knit?

Well yes… but also no? I personally view fanworks as akin to gifts—the academic term for our communities is literally “gift economy”—so if we view it like that, suddenly that discomfort with getting rid of works is more pronounced. If I not only knit a blanket, but then gift it to a friend, it would indeed feel outside of my rights to randomly knock on their door one day and go, “I actually decided I hate that? Please give it back so I can tear it to shreds, thanks :)” That’s so rude! And any real friend would try to talk me out of it, explaining both why they love the blanket and, even if it’s not technically the best in terms of craftsmanship, it holds significant emotional value to them. Save it for that reason alone, at least. Fanworks carry that same meaning—“I don’t care if it’s full of typos, super cliché, and using some outdated, uncomfortable tropes. This story meant so much to me as a teenager and I’ll always love it”—but the difference in medium and relationships means it’s easier to ignore all that. I’m not going up to someone’s house and asking face-to-face to destroy something I gave them (which is awkward as hell. That alone deters us), I’m just pressing a button on my computer. I’m not asking this of a personal friend that is involved in my IRL experiences, I’m (mostly) doing this to online peers I know little, if anything, about. It’s easy to distance ourselves from both the impact of our creative work and the act of getting rid of it while online. On the flip-side though, it’s also easier to demean that work and forget that the author is a real person who put a lot of effort into this creation. If someone didn’t like my knitted blanket I gave them as a gift, they’re unlikely to tell me that. They recognize that it’s impolite and that the act of creating something for them is more important than the construction’s craftsmanship. For fanworks though, with everyone spread around the world and using made up identities, people have fewer filters, happily tearing authors to shreds in the comments, sending anon hate, and the like. The fact that we’re both prefacing this conversation with, “Please don’t flame” emphasizes that. So if I wrote a fic with some iffy tropes, “cringy” dialogue, numerous typos, whatever and enough people decided to drag me for it… I don’t know whether I’d resist the urge to just delete the fic, hopefully ending those interactions. There’s a reason why we’re constantly reminding others to express when they enjoy someone else’s work: the ratio of praise to criticism in fandom (or simply praise to seeming indifference because there was no public reaction at all), is horribly skewed.

So I personally can’t blame anyone for deleting. I’d like to hope that more people realize the importance of keeping fanworks around, that everything you put out there is loved by someone… but I’m well aware that the reality is far more complicated. It’s hard to keep that in mind. It’s hard to keep something around that you personally no longer like. Harder still to keep up a work you might be harassed over, that someone IRL discovered, that you’re disgusted with because you didn’t know better back then… there are lots of reasons why people delete and I ultimately can’t fault them for that. I think the reasons why people delete stem more from problems in fandom culture at large—trolling, legal issues, lack of positive feedback, cancel culture, etc.—than anything the author has or has not personally done, and since such work is meant to be a part of an enjoyable hobby… I can’t rightly tell anyone to shoulder those problems, problems they can’t solve themselves, just for the sake of mine or others’ enjoyment. The reason I’ve been thinking about this lately is because I was discussing Attack on Titan and how much I dislike the source material now, resulting in a very uncomfortable relationship with the fics I wrote a few years back. I’ve personally decided to keep them up and that’s largely because some have received fantastic feedback and I’m aware of how it will hurt those still in the fandom if I take them down. So if a positive experience is the cornerstone of me keeping fics up, I can only assume that negative experiences would likewise been the cornerstone of taking them down. And if getting rid of that fic helps your mental health, or solves a bullying problem, or just makes you happier… that, to me, is always more important than the fic itself.

But, of course, it’s still devastating for everyone who loses the work, which is why my compromise-y answer is to embrace options like AO3’s phenomenal orphaning policy. That’s a fantastic middle ground between saving fanworks and allowing authors to distances themselves from them. I’ve also gotten a lot more proactive about saving the works I want to have around in the future. Regardless of whether we agree with deleting works or not, the reality is we do live in a world where it happens, so best to take action on our own to save what we want to keep around. Though I respect an author’s right to delete, I also respect the reader’s right to maintain access to the work, once published, in whatever way they can. That's probably my real answer here: authors have their rights, but readers have their rights too, so if you decide to publish in the first place, be aware that these rights might, at some point, clash. I download all my favorite fics to Calibre and, when I’m earning more money (lol) I hope to print and bind many for my personal library. I’m also willing to re-share fic if others are looking for them, in order to celebrate the author’s work even if they no longer want anything to do with it. Not fanfiction in this case, but one of my fondest memories was being really into Phantom of the Opera as a kid and wanting, oh so desperately, to read Susan Kay’s Phantom. Problem was, it was out of print at the time, not available at my library, and this was before the age of popping online and finding a used copy. For all intents and purposes, based on my personal situation, this was a case of a book just disappearing from the world. So when an old fandom mom on the message boards I frequented offered to type her copy up chapter by chapter and share it with me, you can only imagine how overjoyed I was. Idk what her own situation was that something like scanning wouldn’t work, but the point is she spent months helping a fandom kid she barely knew simply because a story had resonated with her and she wanted to share it. That shit is powerful!

So if someone wants to delete—if that’s something they need right now—I believe that is, ultimately, their decision… but please try your hardest to remember that the art you put out into the world is having an impact and people will absolutely miss it when it’s gone. Often to the point of doing everything they can to put it back out into the world even if you decide to take it out. Hold onto that feeling. The love you have for your favorite fic, fanart, meta, whatever it is? Someone else has that for your work too. I guarantee it.

So take things down as needed, but for the love of everything keep copies for yourself. You may very well want to give it back to the world someday.

#fandom #fic things #mymetas #never any easy questions on this blog huh? lol

[kim-ruzek]

To build a life, let us share our past

Summary: Adam takes Kevin with him to pick out an engagement ring, wendy and Nicole comes up and Kevin tells Adam he needs to tell Kim about her.

Fix-it, technically.

Word Count: 3.5k

Read on AO3

Notes: So many little things would be better solved is Burzek just communicated, so I'm writing fix it fics for them all! I hope y'all enjoy!

“You’re going to ask Kim to marry you?” Kevin stares at Adam, with shock and disbelief. Adam likes to think he can read his best friend’s face expertly—maybe not as well as Kim, who has known Kev for longer, but well enough—and if Adam knows Kev, then he knows there is also amazement and love in his expression as well.

Adam hopes there is, at least. He hasn’t been with Kim long, just a year, as of last week. This is fast, Adam knows that. But it’s real, and he knows more than he’s ever known anything else that Kim is his future, his ‘One’. And Kevin’s their mutual best friend, his approval means more than anyone else’s to Adam and Kim, and Adam knows an engagement wouldn’t feel right to either of them if Kevin had problems with it.

“I love her, man. She’s it.” Adam says simply, hoping to infuse the words with all his love, respect and care for Kim.

“I know you do, bro. The two of you together... You know you two are my family and I couldn’t be happier,” Kevin is a man of little words, but every one is from the heart, and Adam knows how earnest he is.

“I’d say congratulations but that’d involve Kim having said yes, so I know you’re not just telling me this.” No one could say Kevin Atwater is not a smart man, or a quick minded one.

“I need you to help me pick out a ring.” Adam tells him.

“Me?” Kevin blinks.

“Yeah. I don’t, this ring stuff is confusing. And you know Kim, you’ll know what she likes.” Ensuring that Kim gets the ring she deserves, the ring she’ll wear for years to come, the ring she’ll love, is something that is important to Adam, is needed. And so much jewellery looks the same to him, but he knows, knows, that Kevin has more of an eye for this stuff.

“We did used to window shop, on our slower patrol days,” Kevin muses. His words rings a bell inside his mind, a vague recollection of Kim telling him that when she was talking about stories from patrol. He had forgotten all about that, but now he feels even more confident in his decision to ask Kevin for his help.

“So you’ll help me?” Adam smiles hopefully at his friend. Kevin grins back, pulling him into a hug.

“Yeah, of course I’ll help you! Let’s go pick out a ring for our girl.”

The ring shop feels daunting, glass cabinets everywhere, jewellery of all kinds inside, and well dressed employees standing, waiting. The store feels delicate, and Adam feels way too out of place. Too tall, too broad, to masculine.

Deciding to go on a quiet day that they’re on call feels like a mistake now, Adam being way too aware of his gun on him, and how clunky it makes him feel. The only times Adam’s, really, been in a jewellery shop has been after a robbery, and without glass broken everywhere and no cops swarming the place, he feels like an imposter, like he doesn’t belong.

Of course, he’s been in shops like this before not related to work. The times he’s gone to buy his sister, or mom jewellery, and of course when Wendy’s best friend, Sara, dragged him to the store to point out which ring Wendy wanted. Those times didn’t feel as tense, as suffocating, as if everyone is staring at him like this does, and Adam can only attribute that to being because this is so much more important than those times, that he’s aware this could put a spanner into an otherwise good relationship, that he has so much more to loose.

Kevin is beside him, and Adam’s glad once more that he invited Kev to come along with him as his presence is calming. Logically, it feels like he shouldn’t, Kevin is taller and broader than Adam, and his presence also feels too big and clunky for this delicate store. But Kevin doesn’t seem the slightest bit fazed, and that calms Adam’s nerves.

“Here,” Kev leads him to a counter with rings on display underneath. Adam tries not to focus on the worker giving them a look.

Kevin had picked out what store to look at, saying of course they could look at several, but that Kim has mentioned she’d want a ring from a smaller, more ethical shop. Adam recalls conversations like that as well.

Adam looks down at all the different rings, feeling overwhelmed by it all. He has a roundabout idea of what to get, nothing too big or flashy—that’s not Kim’s style, especially in their line of work, you don’t want something like that while interacting with criminals—but something simple in its beauty. Like Kim, Adam thinks. To him she’s flawless, effortlessly, and so, so beautiful.

“This is so hard,” Adam groans to Kev, running a hand through his hair.

“Take your time, bro. It’s a process, just don’t stress.” Kevin calmly says back. Adam looks at his friend, speaking again as he remembers the whole purpose of him inviting him along.

“You seen anything?”

“I’m here to help you. And I will. But you know her better than anyone, even me, so just look yourself first. We have time. We can come back.” Kevin reasons.

“Right, right. I don’t know, man, it was easier with Wendy. She had already picked out the ring herself, and her friend told me which one. But this? Kim deserves the best, I just don’t want to get it wrong.” He laments.

The experience of picking out the ring for Wendy wasn’t exactly a magical experience or anything particular special. He showed up, rung his card, and that was that. And at the time he was grateful for the simplicity of the whole matter, and although right now a part of him wishes this was that easy, Adam knows, deep down, that as stressful as this is, he prefers this experience more. That he’s involved, that he’s excited, that he knows beyond everything that he wants to spend the rest of his life with Kim. This is everything that experience wasn’t, and Adam knows he would take on all this stress a million times over for Kim.

“Nikki was even easier. I mean, 40 dollar ring, impulse proposal? Guess though, this just says I’m getting it right this time.” Adam continues to muse out loud. Kevin gives him a strange look.

“Nikki? Were you engaged to another girl?” He questions and Adam is reminded that although it feels like he’s known his best friend forever, they haven’t even known each other two years yet, that there’s things he wasn’t around for. Adam’s social circles up until he was pulled from the academy was the same he had for years, and Kev’s met a few of his mates, so Adam forgets that Kevin and his friendship is still so recent.

“Yeah, I was. When I was like twenty, for like three months. It was a train wreck. A drunken thought took seriously,” Adam explains.

“I get you, bro.” Kevin says, but still, he’s looking at him curiously, a thought clearly on his mind. “Does Kim know?”

Adam raises an eyebrow at him. “Uh, I don’t think so? We don’t really talk about that stuff.”

“Do you think you should?” Kevin asks pointedly. Adam frowns.

“It was years ago, why should I? There’s no point just randomly bringing exes up,” he dismisses.

“Bro.” Kevin gets in front of him now, redirecting his attention from the rings. “You’re picking out an engagement ring for her. She needs to know you’ve been engaged twice before you propose. Because it will not go well if you don’t, trust me. I know you don’t mean anything by it, but this can quickly become a big deal.” Kevin’s tone is loving, caring, but firm.

“Just think about it. You were engaged when you met. You propose after a year. She finds out you had another fiancée. I know you love her, I know you’re meant to be, but just think about it from how it could look from her perspective.”

Oh.

Kevin’s words are wise, and realisation, and understanding of what Kev’s getting at, dawns on Adam.

“Yeah. Yeah, good point. I’ll tell her tonight.” Adam immediately agrees. “Just need to make sure not to tip her off to why I was thinking about my exes,” he grins at him.

“That’s a difficult task. She’s a quick one, Burgess is.” Kev replies, grinning himself. “But I’m sure you’ll find a no doubt disgustingly cute way to distract her.”

As his best friend, Kevin has unfortunately heard way too much about the inner details of their lives, details that since Kim is basically like his sister he’d have rather not known. But Adam can only focus on feeling sorry for him for a second, as he’s distracted, his eye catching sight of a ring in another counter.

“Kev. Look. This one.” Adam points it out to him, knowing, feeling, deep in his heart, that he had found The Ring, the one perfect for Kim. And by the looks at Kevin’s expression, his awe and smile, Adam thinks his friend agrees with that.

“That’s perfect.” Kevin grins at him.

“So, movie or tv?” Kim asks him as she adjusts the temperature on the oven. It’s the evening, and they’re at home—at his place, technically speaking, but he’s here and she’s here, which makes it home.

Kim had beat him home as usual, had let herself into his apartment like she always does, like they always plan, like they do automatically now without so much of a thought as their lives become more and more entangled with each other. She had already showered and gotten out of her work clothes by the time he had gotten home himself.

Kim’s dressed casually, lazily, only in some of her leggings and one of his old shirts with her hair tied up in a bun that’s coming undone. It’s a simple look, a no thought look, a behind the scenes, after look, a look for when Kim just wants to relax, to not be officer Burgess or even really a person, just Kim. A look for when she’s just her, unwinding from the day—a look only he is privy to.

Intimacy isn’t just knowing what the other likes in bed, how to make them blush, or what their favourite colour is. It’s this. It’s how they are with you in down time, the simple and unguarded way they are around you, how you’re not really no longer another person but almost an extension of themselves, that they can be who they are with no doubts or anything needing to be held up or any illusions to be set. Just them.

Adam wouldn’t exactly class himself as a romantic, far from it. And before Kim, he had seldom noticed these thing, not taking much note of the significance of it. It wasn’t important before, now it is. Maybe perhaps because Adam’s a cop now, he sees such things and it’s given him an appreciation for these sorts of things. Maybe because Kim was shot, Kim was kept captive and beaten, and being with her as she healed gave him a whole new look on what intimacy and love truly meant. And maybe it’s because Kim is his one, his reason for being, the beat of his heart.

Kim is an over thinker, in the most adorable of ways, and Adam thinks that if she was in his mind right now, her thoughts would be churning, trying to pinpoint the exact moment he started to appreciate things like this, because that’s who she is. Adam, he’s an over thinker in his own, different kind of way, but not this, this, Adam spares no real thought on it.

He doesn’t care about the whys, just what is, and he’s just grateful that whatever the reason is that these are things he notes now because getting to embed this memory into his mind, embed how his heart flutters at the thought of their causal intimacy with one another forever into his memories, is something he’s so, so appreciative of.

“Adam?” Kim calls to him, bringing him out of his mind, and to where she stands, still in the kitchen, waiting expectantly. “Movie or tv? And don’t think you’re going to be able to pull the tired card, you know the rules. One of us picks movie or tv, the other picks what it’ll be. Not one of us deciding both.”

This is how their evenings go now. When Adam was in his early twenties, the thought of having such a routine, of staying in most nights, of this normality, would be a suffocating one, but now the thought of spending his days like how he did is the suffocating one. That the thought of spending the rest of his days like this, with Kim, eating their dinner together and just cuddling, is one that fills him with content and his mind how back to the purchase made earlier, of the ring they picked for her, of how he imagines it’ll look on her finger.

“I’m not trying anything,” Adam replies, smiling at her. Anyone else, perhaps, that would make them let it go, but Kim narrows her eyes at him, questioningly, as if trying to suss him out.

“But darlin’, today, I was thinking,” he begins, his heart beating quickly as he hopes this will come across as casual as it’s meant to be. Hoping that she won’t realise there’s a deeper reason behind his sudden curiosity, of him bringing this up.

“That’s dangerous,” Kim has a glint in her eye. And Adam, despite himself, despite how she’s teasing him, smiles at that because goddamn, he loves this woman.

“Ha ha,” he replies dryly, before adjusting himself as he prepares to say his next sentence. He’s sitting on the sofa, but facing backwards, leaning his arms of the top of it so he can look at her as he speaks.

“I was thinking, with how we got together and all, you know we didn’t exactly go through the typical new relationship stuff. Like the ex talk and whatnot,” Adam hopes, prays, that his tone remains stable, casual, that he hasn’t activated that excellent cop instinct of hers and that she’ll sense there’s something deeper driving this conversation.

He wants to halt, to stop this, to not go near any topics that will tip her off to him having brought a ring, but Kev’s words echo in his mind and he knows he has to. Has to, if he wants to make sure that when he puts that ring on her finger, it stays on. Kevin is her best friend, the man Adam went to for help with the ring because no one else knows her this well, and so Adam takes what he says, his advice, very seriously.

“Hm. I guess we haven’t.” Kim says. There’s a slight guardedness to her tone and Adam wonders if there’s perhaps a deeper reason behind them not having this conversation before, besides them beginning the relationship in the way they did.

There’s a part of him that’s curious, that needs to know everything about this incredible woman, but there’s also a part that hurts, aches, at the thought of what possible bad experiences she could’ve had with exes, that has made her tense slightly in such a way. A part of him that wants to just reassure her that his bringing this up is not to dig into her past, but for him to share his, so that they can build a future.

“Well, you know about Wendy, obviously.” Adam cringes at having to mention his most recent ex, at the memory that he was in a relationship when he first got into her. Wendy is seldom mentioned, a part both of them would prefer to forget about, him particularly, with his assholeish behaviour—not his finest moments, that’s for sure. But he has to, has to start the conversation so casually like this is just what he thought while at work.

“Hm. Yeah.” Kim is just mindlessly reorganising things in the kitchen now, a tale-tail sign that she does not appreciate the reminder. Adam focuses on keeping himself calm, casual, so that he doesn’t accidentally start an argument.

“What about you? Did you date when in the academy?” Adam asks.

“I was busy. I’m a woman and all, I had to be the best.” Kim replies and he almost flinches at the edged tone to her words. Adam wonders if it’s still because him bringing up Wendy, or something else, and everything in him screams abort mission but he needs to, needs to, tell her about Nicole.

“What about when you were a flight attendant? Did you date much?” Trying to keep his tone light and not too curious, too pressing is proving hard, especially when this has nothing to do with her, and everything to do with him.

“A little.” She’s reorganising the cabinets now. Her tone is guarded, cool, and Adam’s split between whether to continue from where he is or if he should go hug her. Not wanting to make her think that he’s wondering about her clipped responses—knowing Kim, that’s even more dangerous territory—Adam decides to stay put, no matter how much his arms ache to have her in them.

“What about high school? At work, seeing all these teenagers insist their adults just remind me of my own teenage antics,” Adam offers up his own past a little, putting the attention back on him. There’s a lot of ‘teenage antics’ in his history, not much of which he’d particularly like to get into, but if Kim asks, he will. Because she’s clearly uncomfortable, and he’s doing that, and so he’ll be uncomfortable instead. He’ll do anything for her.

“I bet, canaryville,” Kim turns to look at him, smiling, her tone light for the first time in this whole conversation. Adam seizes the opportunity.

“God, the things I got up to. I wanted to be a cop, even back then, although I didn’t think it was in the cards. But you wouldn’t think it. I was canaryville through and through.” He reminisces. “The Beverly in me came out in my twenties, although canaryville, I’ll always be a canaryville boy. Got me the job, so there’s that. There was a time though that I really could’ve became very canaryville.” This is all stuff he’s touched on before with Kim, but she’s listening, intently, to him, because she always regards as whatever he says as important, just another reason he so desperately wants her to be his wife.

“I was even engaged at one point. Not Wendy, to this girl when I was twenty. You know, real puppy dog love. But marrying young isn’t uncommon in canaryville and well, I was young.” Adam casually drops. Kim was leaning against the counter, just listening, but at that, she pushes herself to stand up straight, staring at him.

“You were engaged? Before you were engaged?” She stares at him, shocked.

“Yeah, for like three months. Got engaged in the summer, we’d called it off by Halloween. We were young, thought we were in love, her mom was pushing her to move to Canada with her and wasn’t taking our relationship ‘seriously’ so we thought hey. I proposed with a 40 dollar ring,” He keeps his tone casual, even still, making sure to avoid details like they had only dated a year. Kim needs to know this, but she’s an over thinker, and if he tells her that and then proposes after they’ve been together only a year themselves, she’ll go into overdrive. That is not what he wants.

“I can’t believe you’ve been engaged not once, but twice,” Kim, thankfully, sees the humour in all this, all her defences dropping again. Adam feels a weight lifted off his shoulders that this went well, that she’s not mad at him.

“Third time’s the charm, hey?” Kim then says, grinning at him. Only for a second, before what she said registers and the grin has gone, replaced with a deep blush and wide eyes. “I mean, I didn’t mean, like us, not that I, uh—” Kim stumbles over her words, her adorably anxious mind in overdrive.

“Darlin’. Relax. I know what you meant,” Adam reassures her, standing up now to go to her. He kisses the top of her forehead, calming her thoughts, and smiling into her, allowing himself to feel happy that it appears that Kim’s at least briefly imagined them getting married, and that she seems open. His heart feels a little lighter, less nervous and more excited, and more confident in his decision to buy the ring.

“Now, is our food nearly done? Because we’ve got to choose; a movie or tv,” Adam diverts the conversation back, needing Kim to not focus on the thought of marriage too much, not when they’re a few weeks away from the surprise.

A surprise that Adam cannot wait for, which he notes as he watches Kim, smiling at her as she moves and talks to him, feeling more and more in love with her with every passing second.

#burzek #kim burgess x adam ruzek #burzek fic #Chicago pd #chicago pd fanfiction #ree writes #ree's.writing

[benjaycaptain]

i’ve got some good ideas for your gift, mostly just trying to figure out the bg/side ships lmao. i must also ask if there are any other jane or audrey ships that you enjoy seeing. and how do you feel about lonnie as a character?

i have not had much time to read fics this week, but i will definitely read your jay/jane fic soon! the description sounds really cute. (yeah, sorry, i will be avoiding that series because of malvie and several of the other tags. i don't read much explicit fic to begin with lmao)

i'll check out centaurworld when i have time and see what i think. will definitely let you know how it goes!

yayy i'm glad to hear you appreciate the masterpiece that is ever after. yesss 1997 cinderella rights! ooh i've never seen the 1965 one, only the 1997 and 1957 one with julie andrews. omg yes i love that moment from the animated movie!

ooh i have a couple of the descendants dolls too. the disney limited editions ones sound really nice. i don't have any of those, but i've seen some pictures online.

oooh that painting looks so good!! the blue figure makes me think of the draags from la planète sauvage (1973). that nude painting looks so good too! ahh and i love the ink one.

i do a little bit of art sometimes too. i agree that it's definitely easier to work with a reference. trying to come up with a pose in my head never works out lmao

ah i can totally relate to free time going poof because of work. it has been hard for me to find time for everything i want to do too. hopefully you'll have time again to work on a little bit! maybe just some little sketches. i find sketching to be very relaxing, and you can listen to music or a podcast while you do it!

sadly a lot of my hobbies have been put on hold lately. i've mostly been writing and sometimes i do some art-related things. i really like doing little craft projects too.

i happened to see that you like jatp. who are your fave characters from it? and if you could write s2 of jatp, what would you want the plot to be?

- gifter anon

FUNNY YOU SHOULD MENTION LONNIE because i also ship her with either jane or audrey lmao tho i prefer a lonnie who leans more into the girlie girl stuff rather than miss little warrior trying to be her mother's carbon copy [but then again, i strongly dislike all this "the kids are their parents 2.0" crap many try to do]

lonnie is amazing cause like. she didn't really care about the villain roots of the core four, she was just like "y'all cool, wanna make me cool too? yeah? okay we're friends now" lmaoooo she's funny. but also!! she legit had to be dragged away from ben after the family day debacle [dragged away by doug of all people what loser]. she's the only one who hesitates rather than leaving and shaking their head at ben

also eyyyyy do you not like mal/evie either? high five lmao well, not like is probably inaccurate, i'm Extremely Indifferent toward that ship. now, obviously, that wasn't the case when i started writing that monster trash fic, but both that ship and the other one [the two dudes of the core four] are just Meh to me now whoops sorry not sorry

thanks for liking my art things xD i might sketch some things while on christmas break! or i might just play nintendo lmao we'll see

i loooove jatp!! it's so cute and lovely. which is why i cannot even imagine me writing the second season xD tho my kingdom for alex fighting the powers of hell to save willie. but that's mostly wishful thinking, as it probably won't ever happen. i love julie, alex, willie, and flynn. i'm whatever about luke, and i want reggie to go away. or maybe his fans. or maybe both. who knows lol

#shippy speaks #gifter anon #there are certain characters in every fandom i'm in #that i'm so indifferent on because of the fan reaction to and treatment of #and reggie is one of them #just like carlos is the other one

[floral-and-fine]

Heaven Bent part 4

Daryl Dixon x female reader

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3

A/n: Hope y'all enjoy this next part :) Thank you, everyone, who has left comments or shown support, really helps keep me motivated to write!  Other than a few specific scenes, I’m not quite sure where this fic is going or for how long. Thank you @ewokiee​ for helping me when I was stuck, seems to have happened a lot.

Summary: The reader finds Sophia lost in the woods, too bad neither of them have any sense of direction. 

You were laying out on the grass, in front of the prison, enjoying the feeling of the sun on your skin. Turning your head, you could see a couple of walkers banging on the fence, but there wasn’t any urgency. Closing your eyes and sighing, you continued soaking in the warmth of the sun’s rays.

After months of traveling and living on the road, it seemed like finding a new home, a new safe haven was a dream of a dream.

Seeing so many houses and towns abandoned made the world seem like a shell of itself. It was almost like living in an episode of the Twilight Zone.

Every day you would come across something that reminded you of how things used to be, such as while rummaging for supplies in an empty home, you’d end up finding a forgotten family photo album or family portrait, and deep down you longed for that safer, easier life.

Then there were the walkers, a never-ending threat, a fear that everyone had to live with, and that worry whenever entering a new building if you turned a corner or opened a door that it could be your last.

Who would’ve believed that you’d find such comfort and peace behind a fence or behind bars?

“Hey,” a voice said as their body plopped down beside you.

“Hi buttercup,” you smiled, keeping your eyes shut.

Sophia stretched her arms above her head, looking around. “You know what this place needs,” she mused. “Flowers.”

You nodded your head, “Ah yes, big yellow sunflowers would be nice.”

“Those are pretty,” she commented.

“And useful,” you added. You could feel her giving you a skeptical look, you smiled wider. “We can roast and eat the seeds, and there are some medical uses too.”

“Are there other flowers that are helpful?”

“There are,” You said sitting up. “And lots of other plants that can be helpful too. I’ll keep an eye out for seeds next time I’m on a run. Would you like to be my helper?”

“Yes! We’ll start our own flower garden!” She said eagerly.

“Yep, I think that’s exactly what this place needs,” you murmured to yourself. You stood up and started scanning the area, trying to decide where the garden should go. “We should probably ask Rick first.”

There was a nice spot over by the east side of the prison, plenty of sunshine in the mornings and in the evening it would be nicely shaded. Water was scarce, but if you could figure out a way to collect rainwater that would help.

You turned around and looked back at Sophia, “Race you to the prison.” With that you took off running, laughing as Sophia called you a cheater.

Still giggling, you found Rick and some of the others inside the prison.

“Hey Rick,” you greeted, rocking on the balls of your feet with your hands clasped behind your back.

“Need something?” He asked, turning his attention to you.

“I was thinking of starting a small garden, over around there,” you explained, vaguely gesturing with your head. “Wanted to make sure it was alright with you first.”

“We’re going to plant flowers,” Sophia butted in.

Rick smiled and shrugged, “Don’t see why not.”

Sophia squealed beside you and you laughed, “Still have to find seeds and whatnot,” you told her. “But we can start tomorrow morning by getting the soil ready.”

…

You wiped the sweat from your brow and leaned against your shovel. The garden was starting to come along, you hadn’t found many things to plant yet, but it was better than nothing.

“So, what did you do before all this?” Glenn asked, walking over and admiring the work you had done so far.

You shrugged, “a little of this and a little of that.”

“Oh come on, that’s worse than Daryl’s answer!” Glenn complained. “Anytime anyone has asked, he always replies with its none of your goddamn business.”

You smiled, you could easily picture Daryl scowling at the question. “Well that’s probably because it is God’s business,” you joked.

Glenn laughed lightly, “still can’t believe he lets you get away with all that angel talk. It’s probably because the two of you are sleeping together.”

Your fell face at the comment, but just as you were about to question him, Hershel approached.

He was getting quick on those crutches. He smiled at the beginnings of your little project. “It’s looking good so far,” he chuckled.

You rubbed the back of your head, “I guess so. Nothing compared to your farm of course.”

…

Daryl was doing maintenance on his bow when Sophia quietly shuffled into the room.

“Mr. Dixon,” she started, standing by the door. Even after everything, Sophia was still shy around most everyone with the exception of her mother, you, and Carl.

“What is it?” He asked, focused on what he was doing.

“We’re going to be starting a flower garden, y/n and I,” she explained, smiling brightly.

Daryl nodded, still working.

She fidgeted with her necklace for a moment, moving the pendant side to side.

“Y/n was hoping to plant some sunflowers, and I was just thinking if you come across any kind of seeds you could bring them back with you, y’know? We’re hoping to plant all sorts of flowers.” She rattled off.

Daryl sighed, looking over at Sophia, who was looking at him hopefully, “Alright, if I see any I’ll bring them back.”

“Thank you!” She shrieked, giving him a quick hug.

He clenched his jaw for a moment, mulling things over, “what flowers did you say she wanted?”

“Sunflowers!” Sophia shouted as she skipped out of the room.

…

Daryl pulled up to the gates, he had left for a solo supply run just as the sun was rising. He had scoured a few abandoned homes, killed a couple of walkers, nothing too eventful or worthwhile.

You sat your tools aside, and dusted yourself off, heading over and meeting Daryl by the gate.

“Did you have any luck?” You asked.

“Not really,” he said, getting off of his motorcycle. Opening his pack he pulled out a shoebox that had probably seen better days.

“Shoes?” You questioned, lifting your brow.

He shook his head and thrust the dirty worn box into your hands. “Here,” he muttered before heading inside.

Curious, you opened the lid, finding that it was filled with seed packets inside. You bit your lip and sat on the ground. Carefully, you started going through the packets, setting aside the most useful ones.

You were bubbling with excitement over the find, if you could manage to gather enough water and get some extra help, you could have a pretty nice crop going besides just a little flower garden.

You paused, noticing underneath the top layer of packets, was a sunflower, the stem had been cut by a serrated knife leaving it rough and jagged, it was also missing a few petals, but still, it was a beautiful sight.

Looking back at the prison, you wondered if there was something you could do for Daryl in return. Most people wouldn’t have bothered even looking in this box, figuring it was probably just junk. Plus, you couldn’t even put into words how you felt over the flower.

You clutched the flower tightly, you had been meaning to do something for him for months now, even before this new surprise. You narrowed your eyes, what the hell would he even like?

...

“Guess who finally picked the lock to the warden’s office,” you sang, joining Daryl on the watchtower.

Daryl looked up at you, blinking in surprise over the dried blood on your shirt, “what the hell happened to you?”

You looked down at the stain, “Oh yeah, that, there was a walker inside, but I took care of it.”

Daryl shook his head, “you’re gonna get yourself killed doing stupid shit like that.”

“Sorry,” you sighed, feeling bad for making him worry. “But look at what I found.” You held up the fancy bottle of scotch and smiled. “Thought we could share it.”

Daryl rolled his eyes but scooted over for you to sit next to him.

You opened the bottle and took the first drink before handing it to him. Closing your eyes, you listened to the crickets and Daryl breathing. It was a cool and peaceful night, perfect for relaxing and loosening up a bit.

“Thank you for the seeds and the flower,” you said, breaking the silence.

He didn’t reply, simply taking another swig from the bottle, and staring out into the distance.

He wasn’t quite sure what motivated him to do it. The box of seeds was one thing, but searching for a Goddamn sunflower just so he could bring you one was another.

Daryl could practically hear Merle in his head taunting him, telling him he’d gone soft for some bitch. His hands balled into fists involuntarily, the thought of a Merle referring to you as a bitch pissed him off.

‘What’s a matter with you boy?’ Imaginary Merle asked. ‘Never thought l’d see my kid brother wrapped around some woman’s finger.’

Daryl leaned back, clenching his jaw, all this was unfamiliar territory, all these things he felt, the way he thought about you. Maybe he was going soft… scowling he drank more, hoping to put an end to the voice going on and on in the back of his mind.

You took the bottle from him, taking a big drink and sighing as a wave of nostalgia washed over you, “I remember getting my heart broken on a night like this, damn bastard.”

Daryl peeked over at you. You rarely cursed and you rarely seemed anything other than sweet and happy. But the bitterness and hurt in your voice were evident.

You examined the bottle in your hands, a quarter of it already gone. “I was dumb, so fucking dumb. I left home without a second thought and followed the man I loved across the country. I don’t know what I expected… marriage and babies, I guess, but instead what I ended up with was an immature manipulative dick.”

“I packed up what little I had, and left that small crappy apartment in the middle of the night... I couldn’t go back home, so I hitched a ride going as far as the driver would take me,” you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Since then my entire life could fit in one suitcase.”

Tossing your head back you took another big gulp, and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

You could easily recall that night you left, standing on the street corner feeling like a lost soul in the dark. No one to turn to, nowhere to go, it was scary but there was also a certain freedom to it. You were on your own, nothing tying you down or holding you up.

“You been on your own since then?” Daryl asked.

“Mostly,” you shrugged. “I’ve been fortunate though, met some decent people on my travels… and some interesting ones.”

You passed the bottle back to him,“I heard from the others about what happened with your brother,” you started. “Sounds like you and him have been through a lot together.”

He nodded, “Merle’s tougher than nails, none of these walkers would ever get the jump on him. He’s out there somewhere.”

“The two of you have that in common then,” You smiled. “From what I’ve gathered, it sounded like the two of you were inseparable, always having each other’s backs and whatnot.”

Daryl frowned. “Not all the time,” he corrected you.

Merle had been the first one to leave, having left Daryl behind without a second thought. This time around, Daryl didn’t have a choice, at least not in the same way.

“But I guess we’re even now,” he murmured.

“It must’ve been hard not going after him,” you commented. “But I know we’re all grateful that you stuck around. We need you.”

Daryl sighed, he didn’t regret his choice, he was needed here. But he still felt like he’d owed it to Merle to find him. They were family, blood, Merle was all he had in this world.

Taking another sip, your eyes wandered over to the beginnings of your garden.

“Y’know the best thing about my childhood home were the sunflowers that grew outside of my window,” You laughed dryly wiping a few stray tears. “Guess I’m just hoping this could be home for all of us.”

Daryl nodded, “If we’re smart, and if we’re careful, it can be.”

Resting your head on your hand, you admired Daryl, he was a handsome man, there was no doubt about that, but it was his arms and hands that stood out to you the most. There were many mornings you wished you could wake up in those arms.

You glanced at his face, your angel seemed to have a lot on his mind. You had hoped when you found the bottle of scotch it would’ve helped him relax a little.

But by now, you had enough to drink that you were feeling that buzz of confidence.

“Angel,” you whispered leaning forward, your eyes closed, and your hand reaching out to cup his face.

Immediately, Daryl placed his hands on your shoulders, stopping you from getting any closer.

There was a part of him that wanted this to happen, to pull you close and run his fingers through your hair, but there was also fear. He had never really been one for relationships, he didn’t have much experience with romance either. Not to mention, it seemed wrong to want to kiss a drunk woman.

You opened your eyes slowly, looking at Daryl full of confusion. Immediately backing away when you saw his face.

“Sorry, sorry,” you stood up, keeping your eyes downcast, unable to look at him. Your face felt like it was on fire.  “I-I should go,” you mumbled, stumbling as you took a few steps forward.

“Wait,” Daryl spoke up, grabbing your arm. “You’ll break your damn neck trying to climb down drunk.”

You kept your head down but nodded trying desperately to hold back tears. You were feeling absolutely overwhelmed by your emotions, and your inebriated state making it harder to control them.

“I’ll climb down first,” he explained, that way if you lost your footing and slipped and he could try to catch you.

Once you made it to the ground, you were still so flustered that you quickly wished him a good night before brushing past him and heading towards the prison.

Daryl watched as you briskly walked away, eventually climbing back up to the watchtower once you were inside. He grabbed the bottle of scotch taking one more drink before replacing the lid. He hoped he hadn’t just fucked things up.

Tag list: @twdeadfanfic​  @xaestheticalien​  @x-roscpctals-x   @amaroho​  @theonlyone-meeeee​  @mysterious-398​   @marss-anonymous​   @thecaptainsgingersnap​

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #reader insert #Female reader #twd #twd fanfic #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic

[irlkaiman]

Alright it’s time for round 2 of the Grumpus video game head canons! Let’s jump right in.

(I’m attempting to post on my mac so hopefully it’s easier on the eyes!) MC

The MC plays video games like a 2014 tumblr kinnie.  They always find it difficult to play a game that doesn’t have story at the forefront, and almost have no regard for gameplay. What they want is an enjoyable cast of characters to doodle in their sketchbook, they will play on the lowest difficulty and they will make sure they enjoy the game to it’s fullest potential. They probably enjoy Visual Novels more than most other video games considering gameplay takes a major backseat in those titles. Hilariously enough I 100% believe the MC has played through every danganronpa game, and loved it. This also means Nagito exists is in Bugsnax universe which makes it 1000 times funnier. Favorite Genre - Visual Novels.

Floofty

Floofty currently doesn’t really see the logic behind choosing to play video games over something that could yield some form of scientific advancement. However, young Floofty definitely used to have a soft spot for survival horror games. They would use the limited resource mechanics to their max potential, number crunching an optimal playthrough of everyone’s favorite spooky games. Their time spent playing games of a more graphic nature definitely desensitized them to some degree. They would also use a young Snorpy as a test subject, probably whipping up some form of DIY heart rate monitor to test a grumpus’ reaction to fear. Them doing this traumatized Snorpy and has lead to him developing an uncomfortable relationship with horror. Favorite Genre - Survival Horror

Lizbert  ((Spoilers in this paragraph))

I am currently unsure if Lizbert or Eggabell ever were able to return to civilization in my bugsnax canon, so their entries will talk about their experiences with video games before Snaxtooth island. Young Lizbert was inspired to be an explorer at almost every turn in her young life. I can guarantee she played tomb raider, watched Indiana Jones, and probably read a bunch of explorer’s journal entries. She spent a huge majority of her childhood playing high action AAA exploration games. After she was able to explore for real however, she realized how funny those games actually were. They were unbelievably inaccurate to real exploring. Now she doesn’t have much time for video games, but still holds those in high regard.

Favorite Genre - Action/Adventure

Eggabell

She is undeniably one of the nerdiest Grumpuses (Grumpi?). She plays MMO’s and gets way to into them. Being a physician in real life makes people think she plays the healer, however she plays a super burly buff man with insane combat abilities exclusively, and is probably the best raid DPS a team could ask for. She leads a guild, and is very intimidating in game. She tried to get Lizbert into WoW, but Lizbert made an alliance character before Eggabell got home, and as a horde loyalist Eggabell was incredibly offended. Favorite Genre - MMOs

Shelda

Shelda is an older woman, however, she plays so much fucking tetris. She’s used T-Spins in a metaphor once, and Chandlo with no knowledge of tetris thought it was some form of Zumba. She also plays games such as Solitaire while she’s writing to keep her mind adrift in the clouds of wisdom, or something. Favorite Genre - Puzzle Games

And there’s all of them! I had so much fun writing these, and I hope y'all enjoy! I’m probably gonna write a chandlo snorpy fic at some point, but we will see! Thank you for reading.

#bugsnax #lamechasepost #headcanons

[devourer--of--books]

SGE x PJO AU: wiki pages

PART I: Hester

Okay, so hm, before we start.

Warning: some minor cursing, as well as spoilers for all percy jackson and the olympians, heroes of olympus and school for good and evil books. Basic knowledge of the main plot points is heavily recommended. 

Now that that’s out of the way, an unnecessary note:

I was unsure on how to structure this au, as I was originally going through the events of the novels book by book, but turns out that made the posts way too long (longer than they already are) and more like a mini-fic than an au post, so, for now, we’re sticking to a character-based wiki-like structure, one at a time.

This is obviously an au, so while we'll follow loosely the events of the riordan-verse, there's many tweaks, so it's easier to follow if you're familiar with the canon material but hopefully, I'll be able to answer any questions y'all might have.

I just might do mini-fic posts or write a one-shot or two, but that takes a while so maybe tell me if you’d be interested in that, because as usual, I am fueled by validation.

This is so goddamn self-indulgent. 

Hester Ravenswood

Daughter of Nemesis

Occupation: Head counselor of cabin 19 / High school student.

Early years: Used to live with her father, until he tragically died in a mysterious factory fire when she was 10. 

It is unknown how Hester got to camp, aside from the vague explanation she gives to Sophie and Agatha: she ran away from an orphanage and her mother guided her to Camp Half-Blood using dreams. She arrived at camp in the same night as Chaddick Edwards, and witnessed his death at Half-Blood Hill.

Camp years: Hester used to be a year-round camper at cabin 11. Since Nemesis didn’t have an actual cabin at the time, Hester was placed there, as per camp tradition, and while she often flaunted her parentage, she never got officially claimed. 

Within her first year, Hester dueled an older, unnamed demigod for a bunk bed at cabin 11. She wins the duel, but ends up with a bad reputation as a “shady back-stabber” around camp, due to her use of a hidden knife to win. The bottom bed of said bunk used to be always empty, despite Hermes’ cabin being very crowded, until Agatha’s arrival a few years later.

Hester is the third member of the quest to retrieve Zeus’ lighting bolt, alongside newcomers Agatha and Sophie.

The following summer, she runs away from camp with Sophie Martin to help on the quest for the golden fleece. 

Later that year, she participates in the mission to retrieve Yara and Willam Thomas from Westover Hall. 

During the quest to rescue Artemis, Hester is absent due to being given another quest by oracle/camp director August Sader: scouting the labyrinth. 

Next summer she leads the quest to find Daedalus, but after the incident in Hephaestus’ forges, she chooses to remain at camp to prepare for Kronos’ invasion, as well as aiding Dot Nottingham with Anadil Bloodbrook’s recovery after her time wandering by herself in the labyrinth.

A year later, Hester and Agatha blow up the Princess Andromeda cruise together, and she is heavily involved in the events leading to and during the Battle of Manhattan. Hester and Anadil are responsible for convincing a few minor gods, including Hester’s mother, to betray Kronos and help the campers fight off his army once Kronos cuts off connection between himself (alongside Sophie, Agatha and Yara) and his army to get to Olympus.

Post-war, she attends school alongside Dot Nottingham. It’s unknown what she plans to do after graduating, though it’s implied she might have to retake the year, as she often skipped classes to look for Agatha with Sophie. In one of those missions, Nemesis guides Hester to rescue Nicola Saylor, bringing her to Camp Half-Blood.

Currently: Hester is one of the seven demigods of the prophecy, and is abord the Argo II, headed towards Camp Jupiter.

Connections:

Dot Nottingham

While Hester mostly kept to herself during her first years at Camp Half-Blood, she has a secret soft spot for Dot, as she once overheard the girl standing up for her against Beatrix Jolie. 

She is the one that teaches Dot how to use a dagger. 

Every year, Dot offerers to house Hester for the school year, and every year she refuses, until after the Battle of Manhattan, when she accepts the invitation.

Agatha Schwartz

Hester and Agatha become friends shortly after her arrival, alongside Sophie, at Camp Half-Blood, when Hester claims to be impressed by Agatha’s confrontation with Aric Lesso, which seemed to freak every other camper out. 

Through the years, Hester  develops a not-so-one-sided crush on her, leading to a, rather messy, undefined romantic relationship between them after Hester kissed Agatha at Mount Saint Helens, but the two decide they are better off as friends after the Battle of Manhattan.

Hester is greatly distraught by Agatha’s disappearance after the war and feels horribly guilty for ignoring Agatha’s attempts to contact her prior to it due to remaining pettiness post-break-up.

Sophie Martin

Off to a bad start upon meeting, the two become tentative friends during the quest to retrieve the lightning bolt, and they even manage to join forces to aid Agatha, Hort Scourie and Aric Lesso on their quest for the golden fleece. 

However, Hester quickly grows suspicious that Sophie might be a spy for Rafal at camp. Once she hears that this accusation was proven true, during the quest to rescue Artemis, it causes an irreversible shift in their mostly playful previous dynamic, even though Sophie changes sides again after Rafal betrays her trust at Mount Tamalpais. The peak of their animosity is at their duel after “Agatha’s funeral”, in which Hester nearly strangles Sophie with her whip while blinded by grief, only stopping due to interference from Agatha herself.

Thankfully, things seem to have smoothed over between them after Sophie stabs, and sucessfully kills, Rafal in the Gods’ Throne Room, "ending” the Battle of Manhattan by keeping Kronos from destroying Olympus.

Sophie and Hester grow closer during Agatha’s disappearance, often meeting up for search missions whenever one of them believes to have a lead on their friend’s whereabouts.

Anadil Bloodbrook

Hester first meets Anadil during her first mission an the labyrinth, in which she manages to convince Anadil to help her escape Kronos’ forces, but isn’t able to take her along, feeling horrible guilt, believing Anadil to have been killed.

Once she learns that Anadil managed to escape and is actually alive, having been wandering through the maze on her own for months, Hester vows to save her, stepping down and handing over the quest for Daedalus to Agatha.

Hester manages to find Anadil, whose mind appears fragmented after so long in the labyrinth, and begs Dot to help her find a solution. The daughter of Dionysus eventually does, combining her mild influence over madness with Reena Shazabah’s healing talents as a daughter of Apollo.

Anadil and Hester keep in touch often after that, becoming very close friends and formulating a plan to secretly recruit minor gods and their children back to the olympian side.

The two of them start dating officially a few weeks after the end of the war and are currently still together.

Nemesis

Hester is contacted by her mother more often than most demigods, probably due to Nemesis status as a minor goddess. Nemesis offers to help Hester on occasion, but Hester always stresses that her mother is anything but kind; no help from her ever comes free of charge.

August Sader

Despite making a few jokes about the oracle’s host being past his prime, Hester shows a deep respect for the camp director, even if she doesn’t always agree with his tatics.

Reena Shazabah

Hester’s active dislike for Beatrix during her first few summers at camp lead to her passive dislike of all of the daughter of Aphrodite’s friends and flings, including Reena, but they eventually become friends and, after Reena aids Dot in healing Anadil’s mind, the two of them can often be spotted training together at the arena.

Rafal

While they were in the same cabin and Rafal was one of the few campers that didn’t avoid her, Hester tells Agatha she does not trust him. 

Once Rafal reveals himself as Kronos’ son, offering Hester a spot in his army, due to her being a child of a minor goddess, she tells him to “get fucked” and stabs him in the arm with her dagger, establishing their dynamic for the rest of the war.

Nicola Saylor

Hester is initially resentful of Nicola, for her presence reminded Hester of her own failure to find Agatha, but once the roman girl reveals that Agatha was most likely stuck at Camp Jupiter without her memories, Hester starts acting less hostile towards her.

Yara Thomas

Hester is part of the rescue party that retrieves Yara and her brother Willan.

At first the two seemed to get along, but after Yara joins the Hunters their friendship sours, as Hester has a very strong disdain for the group.

However, they start talking again during the Battle of Manhattan and grow closer once Yara offers to try and track down Agatha once she goes missing.

The current status of their friendship is unknown, as Hester will probably be livid once she finds out Yara met amnesiac!Agatha at Camp Jupiter months prior to Nicola’s arrival at Camp Half-Blood.

Hort Scourie

She doesn’t really care much for Hort at all before he is revealed to be one of the seven, but tolerates his presence on occasion, though Hester does state that kicking his ass on the arena is one of her favorite hobbies.

Weapons and Powers: Hester is very skilled with daggers and knifes, though her weapon of choice is usually a whip given to her by her mother on a deal they made when Hester first found out she was a demigod. Whatever Hester had to give her mother to keep her end of the bargain is currently unknown. 

The whip is shown to have a mind of its own, moving in fast snake-like motions that Sophie describes as “demonic”, glowing red when “awake”, but its use is rather dangerous for long periods of time, as it draws energy directly from Hester’s life force.

Hester has some sort of control over chance, being able to strike deals to tip the scales of balance in her favor, allowing her to succeed in unlikely situations, but more often than not, the price for doing so is way too high, being a last resort for her.

#school for good and evil #The School for Good and Evil #hester of ravenswood #hester sge #sge au

[hms-chill]

The Long Way

A nice fun Liam/Spencer fic, because these boys deserve the world.

Summary: (Alternately  titled “SOMEONE GIVE LIAM A HUG” or “Stronk Farm Boyfriends”)Liam’s  just finishing up vet school, and he’s a month shy of achieving the  thing he’s been working for since he was a kid. When he gets called out  to a farm to witness a calf birth and notices something wrong,  under-researched, and curable, it’s the perfect thing to treat and  document so he can write a paper that will jump-start his career. Of  course, the fact that the calf is owned by a cute dairy farmer doesn’t  hurt, either.

Chapter one // Chapter two // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // On AO3

Chapter 5

They climb out of the truck, and the sun is out, and Liam feels like a different person than he was when they got in. Somehow, it's like he's let all his questions, fears, and doubts fall away, shutting them up as he shuts the truck's door. Hopefully, they'll disappear into whatever void exists under and between car seats and never be seen again. Spencer and the picnic basket lead the way to a table, and Liam follows with his backpack slung over a shoulder. It's only once Spencer starts unpacking the picnic basket and urging him to eat that Liam realizes how hungry he is.

"Dude, have you eaten anything today?" Spencer asks. There's a hint of joke in his tone, but the foundation is worried.

"I... had breakfast, I think. One of the side effects of withdrawal was nausea, so I... it wasn't exactly motivating to eat, especially when it's just ramen again." That's supposed to be a joke, sort of, a play on the starving student stereotype. But Spencer just looks worried, and Liam scrambles to reassure him. "I'm fine. It's... it's not a big deal or anything; now that I'm back on the meds I should be fine. Just a week of your mom's food spoiled me. Before y'all, I hadn't had a real home-cooked meal in... god, eight years I think? I mean, my friends and I made stuff, but nothing with the same effort and love baked in."

It's not a big deal, but Spencer looks even more concerned. "Oh no. That’s... my mom is going to make you so much food when she finds out; you have no idea.”

“Don’t... you don’t have to tell her." Liam says quickly, trying not to think about how much he already owes Spencer's mom. "I... I’d really rather she didn’t worry; she seems sweet but I don’t need... I’m okay. I’m doing fine, and it’s not for much longer if I pass, and you all got me so much already.”

Spencer's quiet for a moment, then he says, "Why don't you come out to the farm after you're done with the test? We can celebrate with more homemade food. They could be there if you want to meet them, or it could be just us and whoever else you want. Up to you."

"I'd like that. Maybe... I don't know if your parents would like me all that much; I'm not exactly... parents don't tend to like me, and I don't want to butt in or anything, but if you want them there then I don't mind."

"Alright; it'll be us and Annie, and I'll make sure to have something home cooked. Anyone else you want to come? We could do a little celebration."

"You... we don't have to make it a thing; it--"

"If you're going to say it isn't a big deal, after how much we both know it's been stressing you out, I'm going to riot. It matters. This is a big thing, and it deserves to be celebrated. And so do you." Spencer looks so confident, and so sure of himself and the absolute fact of what he's just said that Liam can't find anything to say in response. He just looks down at the food in front of him, but even that is a sign of Spencer's kindness, and he's almost overwhelmed with it all.

"Thank you," he says after a moment. "For... everything, not just wanting to celebrate the NAVLE with me. I'm sorry if I'm weird about it; this is... new. For me. But I do appreciate it. So thank you."

“Of course. And I mean it, you do deserve to be celebrated. You’re a really great guy, and you worked so hard for this. We’ll do a special dinner next week, and if you want Bell or anyone there, we’ll have them.”

“I’d like that, but she... she lives a few hours away with my sister, and I wouldn’t want to have to pick her up after the test or take her back between that night and work the next morning. Thank you, though, for thinking of her. If she was closer, I'd definitely want her there."

"Of course." If Spencer's honest with himself, he's always thinking of Bell. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he's always worried about her and what she'd say. Liam's love for her is as clear as day. He lights up when he talks about her, how she's his girl and he'd do anything to make her happy. He talks about wanting to look after her when she gets old, how they'd grown up together and she'd been there with him through everything. Once, he'd said that she's the only girl he'll ever really love. He is so, so in love with her, and every now and then when he mentions her, Spencer can tell it breaks Liam's heart that they can't be together.

He’s constantly offering to show Spencer pictures of how cute she is, or how gorgeous and regal, but Spencer's always said no. Because if Bell is as stunning and wonderful as Liam says, and if they're really as in love as they seem, then no matter how much of a crush he has, Spencer doesn't stand a chance. At least if he doesn't have to see her, it makes it easier somehow. He can pretend she's not real, or that he and Liam have a shot. If nothing else, he at least doesn't have to see the person Liam's so close to.

"I... I was about to thank you again," Liam says, laughing a bit and pulling Spencer out of his head. "I really don't... it's been a long time since I had someone who'd look out for me like this. I appreciate it a lot."

"Well, you've got me and my parents and our neighbors now; that's at least five people who'd be willing to fight for and love you. And Bell would, too, or at least I hope she would. For how much you love her, I hope she's loving you back."

"Oh, yeah, I mean, she would if she could. She did, back when we were staying together; she helped so much then. I... I swear she's the only reason I'm doing as well as I am today, which isn't saying much, but it... it could be worse, I suppose. It's just harder now, since we're not in the same place."

Spencer nods, and Liam asks about Annie after a moment, so they watch the video of her playing again, then Spencer rambles about things at the farm so Liam can eat. When he's finished, they get his flash cards and study guide, and Spencer listens while he talks about cow poop and horse bacteria and rabbit parasites as the sun sets.

It's more obvious than ever how ready for this test he is. Spencer's known he's smart for a while, but something about the way he answers questions now, the quiet assurance as they flip through flash cards and practice questions, solidifies the fact in Spencer's mind. Liam's going to do well.

"Hey, you're... you're really smart," he says as they come to a break, looking at Liam with a bit of a smile. "I know I've said to before, and I know you don't really believe me, but you're going to crush this test."

"Thanks. I... I hope I'm ready. I just don't want to let anyone down."

"Well, I don't know who else you're talking about, but I'm already really proud of you. And you're working so hard, I bet anyone else would be proud, too."

"Thanks, but it's more... I had to crowdfund this entry fee. That's... that's part of why I'm taking it now instead of in the fall when everyone else did; I had to raise enough. So I just... I don't want to let down the people who helped me out. I couldn't have taken it otherwise, so I... I feel like if I don't do well, it'll be a waste of their money and belief in me."

He's looking down at the notes in front of him, chewing on his bottom lip, but he looks up as Spencer gets up to come around behind him and rub his shoulders. He seems surprised for a second, then leans into it, letting his head fall back onto Spencer's chest as Spencer rubs the tension out of his shoulders.

"I'm sorry I can't make any of this easier, but I can tell you that anyone who helped you get here should and would be so, so proud of you. You're doing your best, and that's all anyone could ask for."

"Thank you," Liam says, letting his eyes close for a second as Spencer works through a particularly tense knot in his shoulder. "That's... I'm trying to believe that."

"If you want, you could come out to the farm tomorrow. I've got some work, but if you wanted to study in the house or a barn, we could find you a place. I might even put you to work when that big brain of yours needs a break."

"I don't want to be in the way," Liam says, but Spencer just shakes his head.

"Nonsense. I mean, you don't have to, obviously, but if you want, it would be nice not to have to eat meals alone. The farm feels empty."

"If you're sure I wouldn't be in the way, I'd like that," Liam says. He's still got his head leaned on Spencer's chest, but despite being upside down, his smile looks almost normal. It's miles better than it was when they'd first met up.

A bit of hair flops down into his face as he and Spencer make eye contact, and he blows at it a bit. It lands in the exact same place, and he blows at it again, going cross-eyed as he stares at it and almost smiling as it flutters above him for a moment. When it falls right back where it was, Spencer takes one hand off Liam's shoulder and brushes it away. As he does, his fingers barely skimming Liam's forehead, their eyes catch again, and for a split second, Spencer can't breathe. He's sure that Liam can hear his heart thumping against his chest, but he can't remember how to make himself care. He can't remember how to do anything but look at Liam's face, taking in the bags under his eyes and the stubble on his chin, the flop of hair on his forehead and the way his lashes fan out when he blinks. But no matter what else he looks at, he keeps being drawn back to Liam's eyes. They're stunning. There's something about them, a fierceness and a light that captivates Spencer. He's aware that he's been looking at Liam for too long, and that he should look away, but somewhere, he realizes that it takes two people to make eye contact, and Liam isn't looking away, either.

Then a crow caws, a little too close to the food, and Spencer looks over to make sure he's not stealing anything important, breaking the spell.

"It's, uh, is it getting late?" Liam asks, moving his head off Spencer's chest to rub the back of his neck as he checks his phone. Spencer gives his shoulders a last squeeze and steps back; they're still tense but better than they were.

"It might feel that way; when did you get up?"

"Oh, definitely way too early. And, you know, it's... it's been a long one. I should probably head home, but, um, if you're sure I won't be in the way, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"That sounds good." They finalize plans as they pack the picnic basket, and Spencer insists that Liam take home the leftovers, so the picnic basket ends up in the back seat of Liam's car next to two care packages and a little cooler of fresh milk and veggies.

On AO3

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#rwrb fanfic #rwrb #liam (rwrb) #Spencer (rwrb) #liam/spencer #the long way #red white and royal blue

[curioussubjects]

and let me correct it

(ao3)

Pairing: Dean/Cas Rating: M Words: 1.5k Tags: Coda: 15.09 The Trap, Post-Episode, Fluff and Smut, (easy on the smut), Established Relationship, Getting Back Together, Feelings Notes: This fic is probably one of the most self-indulgent things I've ever written. I admit I was tempted by that MoC!Cas angst, but sometimes one just wants some warm and fuzzy feelings -- even in this economy. Probably canon divergent. Like...maaaaybe. Anyway, hope y'all like it! Title is from New Perspective by Panic! at the Disco because I really meant that bit about self-indulgence. 

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The hushed sounds of the bunker are loud around them. Dean can hear the buzz of electricity from the lights and the generator, feels alive with it. The lights in the hallway aren’t particularly bright, making the angles of Cas’s face soft. It’s been too long since they’ve been this close, and Dean’s fingers itch to touch him. They’re in the hallway about to part for the night, so Dean makes a decision. He steps closer to Cas, slowly, carefully and with baited breath. Cas watches him move, but doesn’t back away, doesn’t add any distance between them, though he doesn’t move closer either. Instead, Cas looks at Dean with curiosity, a trace of hope and a challenge in his eyes. Dean licks his lips and sees Cas track the movement, purposefully. It’s easy then to lean in, to wait for Cas to meet him halfway. The kiss is a careful thing, incongruent. Neither of them make a move to make it more intense; the moment feels fragile. Dean doesn’t want to push his luck because they’re still reeling from purgatory, from Chuck. They still have more to say to each other, more to fix. But he wants to kiss Cas again, has missed how he feels and how he tastes.

Cas sighs into it and pulls Dean closer, his hands settling warm on Dean’s waist. Dean relents willingly, needs to be close and closer still. Feels their apprehension steadily falling away. He moves a hand to Cas’s jaw, to angle him just right. Lets his other hand move further, so he can run his fingers through Cas’s hair. And Dean loves kisses like this, slow and focused – not heated, but no less overwhelming. Dean struggles to remember the last time him and Cas kissed this way, were this caught up in how to touch and be touched. Dean relishes in it, in how Cas’s lips are chapped and dry, but have a softness to them that Dean has long grown addicted to. He lets himself get lost in it, knowing Cas is doing the same by the way he holds Dean tightly and nips at his bottom lip.

But when Cas walks them backwards, slightly, towards Dean’s bedroom door, Dean forces himself to break the kiss, to pull away just a little. Dean hadn’t had a plan beyond a kiss in the half-light of the hallway. He’s not opposed to what Cas seems to be suggesting, as if he could ever be, but he doesn’t want to derail their progress by getting carried away now. With his voice rough around the edges, Dean says:

“I know we still have to-”

Resting their foreheads together, Cas nods. Dean is about to ask if they could talk in the morning, maybe grab some lunch or – but he loses his train of thought at the sound of Cas clearing his throat.

“Later?”

For a second, Dean thinks of saying no. Of gently pushing Cas away, saying they need to talk before they resume any kind of normalcy in their relationship. Except Cas is so close, and he’s so distracting when he nudges Dean’s nose. Not demanding anything, he does it just to be tender. And Dean gets it because there’s been enough violence between them. Every soft touch they share is a discovery, a wound healed. Besides, they need some solace, and they’ve found it in each other more often than not. So Dean doesn’t pause whatever it is they’re doing, doesn’t say they should wait until they have no more secrets to share or hurt to dole out. The bunker feels suddenly warmer and brighter than it has in months.  

“Yeah, alright.”

Dean guides them the rest of the short way into his bedroom, encouraged by the steady hold Cas has on him. Opening and closing the door is simple with them trading lingering touches and an errant kiss. Yet, when the door shuts, and the only light comes from under the door and the display on the clock on the nightstand, it’s easy to get lost in the push and pull of undressing and the marvel of exposing skin. In remembering how to touch after months of absence. There’s no grace in their movements: they are tugging at each other’s clothes and stumbling in the dark.

----

They find a rhythm soon, hips rocking together.  Heat builds slow and steady with the slick slide of their bodies. In the endless span of skin and the press of fingers and lips. Dean feels drunk on it, his senses overrun with how solid and warm Cas feels beneath him, the way he smells, and the litany of sounds he makes against Dean ear. He is lost in the way they move together, muffles a groan against Cas’s neck at the sting of blunt nails running down his back, at the way Cas tugs at the short hairs at the nape of his neck, allowing him to bite the bolt of Dean’s jaw. So then Cas can trail his lips across Dean’s cheek until they kiss, open mouthed and sloppy. They know how to do this, know how to read their bodies, and move together. They know how to move until they lose focus, with racing hearts and panting breaths.

Their movements grow erratic; Dean is sure he has embarrassing nonsense spilling from his lips, knows Cas hears it all by the press of his hands and the fondness in his eyes. It’s not unusual that moving like this is enough to tip them over, hips grinding together in tight thrusts. They hold hands sometimes, above their heads, when it’s hard to breathe. When it’s so good they can barely see straight. But there are times when Cas needs more friction. Needs to move more freely, even if he’s the one pressing Dean into the mattress. Dean can tell, knows by the way Cas makes impatient noises in the back of his throat. It’s unsurprising that he pushes until Dean is on his back, watching as Cas straddles his hips and looks like he could stare at Dean forever. It’s difficult not to squirm under the attention. Even after years together, Dean isn’t quite used to it, kinda hopes he never is. And really, he can’t be sure he doesn’t have the same look on his face because Cas is gorgeous like this: with a flush running up his chest and his eyes bright, even if framed in shadow. Dean pulls Cas down against him, can’t stand the distance. Whispers c’mere and gasps against Cas’s lips when Cas wraps a hand around them both.

----

Cas falls heavy on him, after. Tucks his face against Dean’s neck. Nuzzles. Dean thinks his heart is going to burst, and he hates himself for almost giving this up. For almost letting it fall away into nothing. He wraps his arms around Cas, not caring about the mess spreading between their bodies. Kisses his temple, breathes him in. Cas kisses his Dean’s collarbone in response, and sighs his contentment. Dean can’t help asking then, directly and not cushioned in deflection:

“Stay?”

It’s quite for a while, and Dean tenses with regret. Braces himself for the inevitable. Cas tugs at his hip, so Dean turns on his side. He keeps his eyes open, looks at Cas and tells himself the earnestness he sees there is not a sign of apology. The second before Cas answers is long and fretful.

“Tonight?”

Dean licks his lips, feels his throat closing up, old alarm bells go off in his head. He powers on, he can do this. Dean makes it slightly easier on himself by closing his eyes, resting their foreheads together:

“And the next.”

“And the next?” And Dean knows Cas is smiling, can hear it in his voice.

Dean lets out a breathless chuckle in disbelief that maybe it’s that easy. Relief floods his whole body, and he feels a little foolish for doubting. Maybe it’s not complicated at all, even if it actually is in practice. Even if they bicker and fight and sacrifice. Even if they don’t tell each other things they should, or if they struggle to break old habits. But the certainty of another night, and another, and another make the ugly parts smaller, insignificant in the feeling that blooms in Dean’s chest and takes roots in his body: a shriveling thing waiting to come back to life. Dean knows what this is, knows the love he’s felt for years and tried to keep away from the light. He grips Cas’s waist, his hip, pulls him closer. Hums his assent because he’s choking on the thought that this isn’t just something he gets to have again, but gets to keep – for good this time.

Cas holds him close, thumb running against Dean’s cheek; he brings their lips together, soft and soothing.

“Dean,” he breathes. “Yes.”

Dean opens his eyes and they smile at each other. They know tomorrow will be less kind and tender than this. And yet it changes nothing. It doesn’t change the words bubbling up Dean’s throat, words he’ll save for now. For after. For another night, and, hopefully, another morning. Afternoon, if they’re lucky.

“Okay. Okay,” Dean says, instead, softly. It’s as much acknowledgment as it is reassurance: that whatever comes, they have this. Always. And Dean knows Cas will stay here with him, in their bed, even if he doesn’t really sleep. He knows the morning light will find them still wrapped up in each other.

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