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lesbojournals · 2 months

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Three's A Crowd (Stucky x Reader)

Nobody at the Avengers compound knew about you, Steve, and Bucky. In fact, not even Bucky and Steve knew you were seeing them both. To be fair, you started your…situationship with them both on the terms that it wasn’t just them you were seeing, and that you weren’t ready to commit to a relationship yet.

It’s just that neither of them knew who was the other you were referring to. Or so you thought.

The night started like any other, you were in your sweats and a tank (your usual pajamas) in the kitchen making a bowl of ice cream for yourself. You added some whipped cream to your dessert and nearly jumped out of your sweatpants when a pair of hands met you from behind.

“How’s it going babygirl?” Bucky teased you, taking your spoon and eating some of your ice cream.

You jokingly scoffed, taking the spoon back. “Get your own ice cream, Buck.”

“What’s this I hear about ice cream?” Someone called, and that’s when the smile on your face was wiped clean off.

Steve entered the room, joyfully at first, until he made sight of Bucky’s hands around your waist. His eyes turned dark and he looked at Bucky, who just smirked back.

“So…” He started. “This is who you’ve been seeing.”

You pulled yourself out of Bucky’s arms. “I can explain-”

“No need.” Bucky interrupted. “We’ll be in my room.”

And with that note Bucky walked away from you and towards Steve, giving him a painstakingly long kiss before dragging him off and away from the kitchen.

The whole event shocked you so much you didn’t even notice you’d been making an “o” face, AND had dropped your spoon on the floor.

Your mind was swimming with questions, and without even thinking about your ice cream you left it behind, practically running to Bucky’s room.

“What’s going on?” You demanded as you entered, walking in on Steve and Bucky in a beautifully posed make out session.

Bucky had a small smile and Steve smirked at you.

“What do you mean, beautiful?” Steve asked.

You stammered as you came up with what to say next, the “guns blazing” technique not working to the best of its abilities. “Did you both know this whole time? Were you playing some weird twisted game on me? Are you two dating? Literally Steve, tell me, what’s going on?”

“Well,” Bucky spoke first, sitting up. He caused the blanket to shift down, making you just now realize they were both shirtless. “We kinda figured it out ourselves from the beginning–you weren't being very slick. Thought confronting you about it should come organically.”

Steve added to his comments. “Plus, we'd always been seeing each other. Hard to believe you hadn't noticed.”

“We thought you were just teasing us–” Bucky continued. “...turns out you're just a little lacking in observation.”

It was like a quick montage of moments between both Steve and Bucky flashed before your eyes. The wistful glances, the long touches, the soft smiles.

“Oh.” You were shocked by your own obliviousness. Had it really been that obvious? “I…I uh…I'm sorry.”

“What're you apologizing for beautiful?” Steve cocked his head to the side, almost daring you to look at the hickeys Bucky had clearly left behind.

You looked down at the ground, blush rising to your ears. “I shouldn't have been messing with you guys if you're a couple. I should've realized sooner.”

“Don't be stupid.” Bucky quipped. “You think either of us would have gotten with you if we didn't want to?”

“I…I don't understand.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “We want you to join us. Be with us. Romantically.”

Steve rushed to add more. “You don't have to say yes if you don't want to. Don't feel pressured. But just know that the option is out there.”

You took a deep breath. “Yea I…I think I'd like that.”

#should i make a part two #i've never written smut before #stucky x reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky

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soupbtch · 7 days

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ummm. my fic is done.

#I mean it still needs a bit of editing but like after almost four months #the hell (writing) is finally over #it's clocking in at around 61k words rn and im tired #time to relax ((cry))#actually you know what. fuck it I'm gonna overshare about this a bit.#I've never written fic before #and besides that - this is the first thing I've sat down to write seriously in about ten years #and ten years ago I was just writing poetry and papers for college #(I don't mean 'just' in a bad way - I only mean that it's been a very different experience for me personally)#very protective over this fic in that it's been sitting in my lap and in my brain for a few months and I don't want to give too much away #so I've deliberately been vague with the marketing of it. because I want people to read and be surprised and experience it firsthand.#and I know it's supposed to be self-indulgent and writing should be about the process and not the results but #I hope people read it??? I've poured my soul into this thing. a bit. a lot. and I'm a simple creature who craves validation.#it's very personal yet at the same time I feel like I haven't done anything new or groundbreaking which. okay it's self-doubt saturday so.#I should ignore that feeling. anyyyyyyyyway.#I hope to post the first chapter in two weeks. crossing my fingers that I don't abort mission before then aaaaaahahaha #also comparison is the thief of joy etc etc etc #danny.xls #danny writes

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trough · 1 month

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4.5.24

three cinquains in honor of it being the fifth

#napowrimo 2024 #napowrimo #poem #poetry #i've never written cinquains before but i'm happy with these #especially the last two

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astrobei · 1 year

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prompt from @strangeswift: "literally anything madwheeler. them bonding, them in the future being besties, them arguing... whatever you want. just them."

It might only be her first week of high school, but Max is already so over it.

It meaning everything. The cramped desks, the giant textbooks, the smell of the locker rooms after third period gym. The way that there had been some plausible deniability, in middle school, about the inherent repulsiveness of teenage boys– and now any minute trace of that is gone, because holy fucking shit, it’s like all of a sudden, deodorant has just totally ceased to exist.

Which isn’t great for someone like Max, by the way, who stands a glorious five-foot-three– also known as the perfect armpit height for the average pubescent boy.

Yeah. She’s so over it.

If walking the hallways hadn’t been abhorrent enough because of this and this alone– which it is, mind you, it’s plenty bad enough– there’s everything else. Everything else meaning the looks. The stares and the glances and the whispers following her as she walks from first period English to second period Geometry, trying her hardest to not get violently lost in the hallways like a total freshman. It’s embarrassing enough being a freshman, right, because you don’t know where your classes are and you have to run to the cafeteria to get a good seat and you’re not completely jaded yet, so people can one hundred percent tell that you’re new.

Max is used to being the new girl. She’s used to holding her head high and marching down the hall like she knows the school like the back of her hand, when in reality, she’d never stepped foot in it before that morning. So the being a freshman thing is a certain kind of clumsy spotlight that she doesn’t mind.

What she does mind, however, is the dead brother thing.

Stepbrother, technically. As if that makes it any better, the way that her mom won’t look at her and suddenly there’s beer in the fridge where her mom never used to keep any before. If that makes the pitying glances and whispers as she passes by any better. As if that takes away from any of it.

She knows what the girls, especially, are thinking. So few casualties at Starcourt, and Billy Hargrove– the cool new boy from California, the one with the cool car and the charm and the hair and the lifeguard job at the pool– Billy Hargrove had to be the one to die.

Max supposes she can’t really blame them either. It’s easy to get caught up in someone from afar. Easy enough to get too caught up on the ridiculous amounts of body oil and the gross open front shirts and the hair they spend hours on every day to really see the small stuff.

Like how they’re an asshole, maybe. An asshole who caked the whole house up with the stench of cigarette smoke and stale beers and sweat. An asshole who liked to push people down to lift himself up. An asshole who bullied little kids just to make himself big again, who–

The girls didn’t see any of that, of course. Max is happy for them, despite the glares and the whispers and the pity. No one deserves to see that. Let them remember Billy as a hero. The king of Hawkins High.

Don't speak ill of the dead, et cetera. It's fine. This is a secret she can shoulder on her own.

Max swings the locker door open, shoving her Geometry textbook into her bag with a soft grunt. Another reason to hate high school– or maybe love it– is that she’s going to get so scary jacked by the end of the year.

“You’re not going to tryouts today?”

The voice behind her makes her jump, even though the hallway is just as crowded and cacophonous as it always is. Mike Wheeler is looming over her, one hand clutching tight at the strap of his backpack, looking, for all intents and purposes, like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Max frowns. “Tryouts?”

“Lucas has tryouts today,” Mike explains, slow and condescending like he’s trying to explain long division to a toddler. “Remember?”

“Of course I remember,” Max says immediately, which definitely makes her sound guilty of not remembering. But she had remembered. Of course she had remembered. It was all Lucas talked about for the last month. Basketball tryouts for the high school team. He’d said high school team like it was the big leagues that were personally recruiting him, as if he weren’t going out for JV.

“Right,” Mike says. Predictably, he doesn’t sound like he believes her. “You’re really not going?”

Max bristles. “What’s it to you?”

“Because Lucas is my friend,” Mike huffs, “and I’ve had to listen to him mope all week about you being too busy to see him at tryouts.”

“Yeah, so?” Max leans down to zip her backpack closed, the zipper catching momentarily on a stray notebook corner. She heaves it onto her shoulder and tries to pretend like it’s not as heavy as it is. Jesus H. Christ. “I can’t help being busy, Wheeler.”

“You’re not busy.”

“Yeah? How would you know?”

“Because you don’t do anything,” Mike scowls, falling into easy step beside her as she speeds down the hallway to class. The bell is going to ring any moment and– damn it.

She’s definitely lost.

Whatever, it’s fine. Geometry is, uh. It’s here somewhere. She just has to get Wheeler off her trail and then she’ll be free to be lost and confused in peace. Do not engage, she thinks. He’ll never shut up if you engage.

“You– I do things,” Max protests, despite herself. “I– I have homework.”

“Bullshit,” Mike scowls some more. He’s been scowling a lot lately, ever since summer ended. It doesn’t take an idiot to figure out why. El isn’t talking to him and the For Sale sign in front of the Byers’ just got taken down and replaced with an obnoxiously happy Sold! sign, and now Mike Wheeler’s got a dark little cloud of rain and gloom following him around like a lost little puppy. “It’s the first week of ninth grade. We have no homework.”

Max grits her teeth. “What do you want me to say? You want me to get down on my knees and grovel for forgiveness? I’m allowed to be busy, okay, Mike, I don’t owe Lucas anything, we’re not dating anymore–”

“Yeah but you’re still his friend!” Mike exclaims, throwing his hands up and nearly smacking someone walking towards them in the face. The boy scowls. Mike ignores him.

Max looks away. Was it a right down this hallway or a left? Whatever. She goes right.

“Whatever,” she says. “Of course we’re friends.”

“Friends show up.” Mike jabs her in the shoulder with one finger, and she bats his hand away. “Friends show up. You know he’ll be so sad if you don’t–”

“Yeah?” Max spins around to face him, and jabs him in the chest with one finger, just for good measure. Mike makes an offended noise and rubs at the spot with his other hand. Not so nice, is it? “Yeah? Well if friends show up, when was the last time you went to Will’s?”

Mike blanches. “That’s– different,” he gets out. Max feels a guilty rush of satisfaction at his expression, at striking a nerve. Not so nice, is it?

“Friends show up,” she parrots gleefully. “But I know you’ve been avoiding him, so why can’t I avoid–”

“Me and Will aren’t you and Lucas,” Mike splutters, face going from a ghostly sort of white to a splotchy red all in the span of one and a half seconds. “Me and Will aren’t–”

Max waits, raising an eyebrow. “You and Will aren’t what?”

Mike ignores her. “Don’t turn this around on me,” he says. “This isn’t about me.”

“Feels an awful lot like the pot calling the kettle black, Wheeler,” Max says anyway. “What is this? Some sort of intervention? Did Lucas put you up to this?”

“No way. He doesn’t know.”

Max lets out a sigh, not bothering to hide her frustration. “Then why do you care? Why can’t you just screw off?”

“Because Lucas is my friend,” Mike presses. The scowl on his face has given way to a stubborn, almost-pleading look. “And you know how much this means to him, and–”

“Well, tough shit, okay?” Max snaps, and Mike’s mouth falls blessedly shut. “I can’t do this right now. I have to go to class and– you can stop following me now, by the way. I don’t need another stalker.”

Mike’s upper lip twitches. “We have second period Geometry together, asshole,” he says, yet somehow not unkindly. “I literally sit next to you.”

Oh. Maybe he does. Max feels a little bad for not noticing, but she hasn’t been noticing a lot of things lately. She’s spent most of the first week focused on drawing as little attention to herself as possible. Getting in and out of class as soon as she can. Running home before anyone can corner her and– God forbid– rope her into hanging out or whatever.

And see, that’s the thing, is that a different version of herself– months ago, when things were good and simple and fun and wonderfully uncomplicated– would have gone. Of course she would have gone. She can’t remember the last time she had friends like this. Definitely not back in California, definitely not right before the move. The summer had been some of the best weeks of her life. Before the– you know, before the shit had totally hit the fan and Billy died and Hop died and El was moving away and she and Lucas broke up. Again.

They’d broken up before too, and they’d always gotten back together, but it seemed like a finality this time. It wasn’t the sort of thing he could make up to her with jewelry and teddy bears and chocolate from Melvald’s with the price sticker scratched off (and Mrs. Byers’ employee discount no doubt utilized).

It was different this time because he didn’t need to make things up to her. Because it wasn’t his fault, and she wasn’t dumping his ass because he’d been immature and loud and thoughtless in typical thirteen-year-old fashion.

He’d been the opposite, actually.

She turns away from Mike before he can see her face.

Lucas had been so composed about it, so mature. He hadn’t rolled his eyes or scoffed or been frustrated when she’d said it. He’d been– quiet. Sad. Accepting. If that’s what you want, he’d said, and she’d nodded quietly before stepping off the bleachers and walking away.

It was what she wanted, because it was easier this way, but something still made her frustrated and keyed up at the way he’d said it. Quiet and sad and without a fuss.

More than anything, Max wants it to be April again, when things were simple. When he’d win her back and deep down she’d be secretly pleased that he hadn’t gotten tired of this inane push and pull. That he wanted her enough to spend his allowance on that teddy bear or those roses. She’d never really been mad at him. That’s just who she was– someone who pushed and pulled on the slightest of whims. Someone who dragged everyone else along with her, just because she could.

“Max?” Mike prompts. “The bell’s going to ring, and we’re in the wrong wing, so–”

The scowl has disappeared from his face a bit. He looks strangely contemplative.

Not angry. Not pitying. Just– looking.

Max takes in a deep breath and crosses her arms. “And you didn’t tell me this before?”

“You were all– all angry and stomping around and– it didn’t seem like the time!”

“Like you’ve ever cared,” she huffs, then spins on her heel and sets off in the opposite direction.

“No, Max– go left.”

“Oh. I knew that.”

She didn’t know that of course, but it’s not like she’s going to say this out loud. Mike catches up to her in three long strides, his bag bouncing obnoxiously against his back. “So?” he prompts, and Max wants to slam her head into the wall and yell. “Are you going?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re insanely persistent? Like annoyingly so?”

Mike grins. “I consider it one of my better qualities.”

“You remind me of poison ivy,” Max grumbles, as they turn the corner into the east wing. The bell rings sharply, the sound shrill and tinny through the hall, and she startles. “Oh shit–”

“So you’ll come, right?” Apparently Mike Wheeler doesn’t care about racking up tardies in his first week here. It’s not like Max does either, but she does like to hold the moral high ground.

She shakes her head, almost smiling despite herself. “Why do you want me to so bad?”

“It’s important to Lucas,” Mike insists, “and he’ll want you there. I don’t know how many more times I can say the same damn thing.”

“I don’t think Lucas wants to see me, Mike. I broke up with him, remember?”

At this, Mike stops abruptly, right in the middle of the hallway. Max collides roughly with his shoulder with a shocked gasp.

“Hey! What’s your deal?”

Mike grabs her shoulders, frustrated. “It’s because we– I’ll kill you if you repeat this to anyone, Max, I swear– but we miss you, okay? All of us. We miss you. It’s not that complicated, seriously.”

We miss you.

If she’s being honest, Max hadn’t been aware that there was anything to miss. She visited El, sometimes, after school when the trailer park got dark and lonely and way too quiet. It wasn’t the same as before, though. Things were heavier, sadder. Too many things unspoken, hanging in the air.

El lived with the Byers now, and sometimes Will would be there too. There was something heavier and sadder about him too, but Max couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. But surely there was nothing to miss in her absence. The four of them did just fine before she came along– Lucas and Dustin and Mike and–

She glances down at his hands on her shoulders, and gets a brief flash of phantom pain– hands gripping her wrists, too tight, angry. Being pushed against walls, wrestled and manhandled and shoved into the car. Road rage.

So much anger. God, there was so much anger.

She was tired of the anger, but now she doesn’t know what to do without it. Maybe that means there’s something wrong with her. Normal people don’t think like this.

She pulls away sharply. “Don’t touch me.”

Worry flashes across Mike’s face, a split second and then it’s gone. His hands fall limply to his sides. “I– sorry.”

Max feels bad. Really, she does. She wants to go. Really, she does. She wants to laugh and tease Lucas as he misses free throw after free throw, and then congratulate him when he inevitably makes the team anyway, because of course he will. He's a shoo-in, and she wants to run down to the gym after school and shake the nerves out of him and tell him that. She wants to go.

She wants–

Mostly, though, she just wants to be left the hell alone.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and Mike’s face falls, ever-so-slightly. The guilt swells up inside her and she looks down at her shoes. They’re getting even more late with every second she waits here, unmoving, and yet– “I really can’t.”

Mike doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then he sighs, and reaches for the handle of the door to the classroom, pausing for a moment before opening it. “Next time?”

It’s weirdly hopeful. Max swallows the guilt back down. “Next time,” she lies, and follows him inside.

#i can't believe i've never written madwheeler before #this got sadder than anticipated #sorry abby #i hope this still scratches that itch #i have a max character study brewing in my mind so this is like. dipping my toes #testing the waters #god i love them #two sides of the same coin for real #fun sized fics #madwheeler #mike wheeler #max mayfield #ficlet #alexa play midnight rain #fic

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thefeastandthefast · 4 months

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"For the second time that day, Yang Ying moves closer to the target of her persuasion, gentling with a purposeful touch."

#a journey to love #一念关山 #cdrama #wuxia #yang ying #li tongguang #my fic #well I thought I could get this done in two chapters #but noble consort chu said I just wanna talk #so what could I do?#it's gonna have to be three #I honestly cannot believe I've written over 8000 words already #and I still have more?!#this has never happened before and may never happen again #happy to just be the amanuensis to this demanding little muse

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jazz-miester · 1 year

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Just As Stubborn And Twice As Dense.

Pairing: Knockout X Breakdown x Reader

Reader Type: Mech Autobot

Song: Sweet Dreams- Borns

Warnings: N/A

An: First time writing for these two. And a male reader. Killing two birds with one stone lol. After writing this I think I might actually make this into a few parts. We'll see.

Tags: @rawmeknockout

You were positive there had to be a million and one rules and regulations about this. There was no way there wasn't when there was a mech like Ultra Magnus with the Autobots. Honestly? You pretty sure that this would be the reason Ultra Magnus would quit.

It didn't help that your spark was constantly trying to outrule all logic to your processors. Nor did it help when the cherry red mech flirted in the middle of battle of all places.

Sure he did it to everyone. Even to Optimus. It was a good thing Elita One wasn't here. The poor mech wouldn't have been around for much longer and it would make a huge buzz kill for your dating life.

Granted. An Autobots dating life shouldn't include the enemy.

And despite all of that here you were. Neck deep in Vehicon blaster fire with the red devil himself.

"Come here often Sweetspark?" Oh you for sure were going to throttle him the moment you got out from under this energon crate.

"No." You spoke bluntly.Knockout lent against the cave wall. Tilting his helm and gave you a fanged smile.

"Really? And here I thought you snuck into Decepticon territory just for little ol me." You gave another push upwards on the crate. The thing had been full to almost bursting before you had been thrown against it from a stray plasma shot. Your aching chassis was a testament to that.

"Y'know con? You could make yourself useful and lift this thing off of me." Knockout gave a laugh that had your spark fluttering.

"And quit watching you use those strong arms of yours? No thanks. Besides, this is a fresh coat of wax, Mon Beau."

"Mon what?" Your helm scrapped against the stone floor as you tilted your head back to look at him. Just in time to see him wince from both the sound and the paint you had just lost.

"I. You know what? Never mind that. I'll have Raf use the. The. Fragit!" You had lifted the crate a brief few inches before it came crashing back down. A hiss of pain left your lips when it hit your chassis. You were not a small mech by any means. And with your larger size came strength. But all that meant nothing with how low on energon you and the others have been. That's why you had risked coming down here.

Even the smallest amount of energon would have meant something.

A white face hovered over yours. Knockouts brows furrowed as he looked down at you. He tilted it to the left. Then the right. You swore if he look any longer he'd be able to start reading your very spark.

"You see somethin' ya like con?" At that he smiled.

"Oh. Very." Slag. There was a certain tenor in his voice that had your processors stalling. You gave another attempt at lifting the crates instead of thinking about the growing warmth in your chassis.

"Don't you have a conjunx? Don't think he'd take it kindly that your flirting with an Autobot." Frag it. The blasters fires had went silent and clearly Knockout wasn't going to kill you or help you.

"Hmm?" Two clawed servos press at the side of the crate above your helm. "Breakdown yes." Knockout looked down at you. His lips curled into a grin that reminded you of the look Chromia would give Ironhide before they'd ditch on you for at least four hours. 'And believe me, Mon Beau. He doesn't mind very much."

The crate hovered above you chest and you took that moment to push as hard as you could.

The crate went flying to the left of you. Hitting the stone floor with plume of dust that had you reseting your vents a few times.

A quick roll had you on your knees. Servo pressed to your chassis as you took in just how badly you had been hit. You heard rather than saw Knockout hiss as you stood up.

You stumbled backwards as your processors rebooted to keep you upright. You looked like slag twice over from helm to ped. Every inch of your paint job had been scratched in some shape way or form. You were full of dents and dings. A few stray plasma burns had already half healed from your nanites. The worst was your chasses. Energon sluggishly drained out. Staining your grey servos blue.

"Slag it ta the pit n'back." You muttered. With Knockout very much being the last thing on your mind at the moment you sat back on he crate you were previously under.

You jumped when White servos pressed at your shoulders to get you back.

"Watch it con." You pulled his servos away. You ignored the fluttering your spark gave at you being this close. And a very familiar stirring of heat when you realized just how much your servo engulfed his.

"I am a medic you know." Knockout made a swinging gesture with his free servo. You let his go after a moments thought.

Knockouts digits brushed around the burnt armor. Tutting and fussing as he bemoaned your ruined paint job.

"Y'know? I planned to throttle ya when I got out from under that thing." He gave a hum and began quickly cleaning debris out of your wound.

"My safe word is crystal." Of course it would be. You couldn't help the soft chuckle that left you. Or the sharp yelp when he dug just a little to deep. Knockout pulled back a bit of shrapnel that had been the bulk of the problem. You chassis went from a sharp pain to a dull rhythmic ache.

"Why are you helpin' me?" The question slipped before you had fully thought of it.

"Do I need a reason?"Knockout asked you. Pulling away after he had plastered some temporary mesh bandages to your chassis.

"Being my enemy? A little." Knockout held a servo to his chassis. A soft white against a cherry red.

"And here I thought we were becoming friends Mon Beau." Again with that slagging word. You cursed the fact that you were to far down to access The Google as the kids called it.

"Hardly." You voice was flatter that the wild plains of Praxius.

"You wound me." Knockout was quick to clean his servos off with a rag he pulled from his subspace. He was also quick to eye you up and down as he did so. "Then again. I shouldn't have expected much out of an Autobot. " Ouch.

The two of you were quick to turn your helms when another mech spilled out from the open hole the you made before coming down here.

"There you are Knockout. Been looking everywhere for you." Breakdown. You were quick to pull yourself up a bit higher. Sitting up straighter as you flexed your hand. Waiting for the moment you would need to turn it to a blaster.

Knockout really had no intention on hurting you. Breakdown on the other servo.

"See you've finally cornered Y/n. How's that going for ya?" Knockout waved a servo before turning away from you to walk to his conjunx.

"About as well to be expected. The mechs more stubborn than you were. And about as twice as dense."

"I'm right here." You spoke mostly to yourself.

Breakdown laughed and you found yourself looking away when the two shared a tender moment. Every warning bell in your head was firing off at once when you did this. A millennia of war and battle having long since drilled into you never doing that to your enemy. And certainly not when you were injured.

You looked back after a few klicks. Glancing up and down as the two looked at you. Then each other. It was obvious they were talking through their spark bond. It ended when Knockout smacked Breakdowns upper arm then left through the gaping hole in the wall.

Breakdown sent you a look that had you leaning back. Everything that had happened this cycle had went against everything you knew about the Deceptions and then some.

"Primus mech." Breakdown shook his helm. "Despite you being an Autobot we like you. As in "Hey. Be my conjunx like.". He pointed a thick digit at you. "And yes i'm telling you that because I overthought that when Knockout told me. I don't expect anything to happen." He gestured above your helms were the battle once was.

"But your a good mech. Even if your an Autobrat. As long as your with us nothing will happen. Just." He looked to where Knockout had left. "Don't hurt him."

After Breakdown had gone it left you with more questions than answers. Often you were lost in thought after coming back to Base.

How would that even work?

Was there anything else like this in the history of the war?

And what in the frag did Mon Beau mean?

#Maccadam #knockout x reader #breakdown x reader #Mech reader #knockout x breakdown #This was bit of a tester #Like i said i've never written for these two before #and I want to get their personalities right

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forcedhesitation · 19 days

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*wheeze* slowly, but surely, working on art of them all

#bg3 #myart #wip #I want to make every tav/companion pairing I have a dedicated. fancy piece.#these started with a concept for a wyll drawing that was very...storybook! inspired.#I would have been done all the linework for these two pieces by now had my weekend gone better :/#I was violently unwell for...about a week and a half? chronic illness bullshit. had started to feel better friday of last week...#...unfortunately fate had it that the weekend ended up being particularly stressful. so the pain returned anew.#it was. somewhat better today. but still not enough for me to really be productive in my free time :(#I will try to complete the linework tomorrow if all goes well. I really would like to start colouring them!#I have delightful colour schemes chosen...#gale/illamin piece has already been sketched in a notebook. once I finish these two- I will begin lining theirs!#illamin's connects to cadence's because they're intertwined like that. but I have yet to finish planning out cadence's piece.#I've gone back and forth on who I should romance with him...the thing with any of the companions is that they are all written to be-#-immensely compatible with each other. so writing a tav FOR a specific companion is a bit hard. often the tav could fit with any of them.#hell. I'm STILL working out details of jantar and corydalis' story & characters. because I can't be normal about this.#that aside- I DO have other. finished pieces...finally.#well. I had some long before... but I didn't want to post them because I wasn't happy with them.#so I went and finished new stuff that I DO like.#4. technically 5 drawings. all horror/horror adjacent in theme.#my extremely detailed hux painting is also NEARLY done. after months upon months of work.#and I continue to slowly chip away at the big scifi themed dbd piece I've had in progress.#I really never run out of things to draw and it's a bit torturous because I never have the time or energy to draw everything...

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skrunksthatwunk · 24 days

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why the fuck did i write about birds this fucking sucks. i just found out birds only sleep for a few minutes at a time, hundreds of times a day. do you know what this is going to do to my structure? the logistics of their road trip? this is already like three days late and i've been fighting for my life to get A Plot Like Any Plot That Makes Sense out and now the birds fucking sleep for 5 minutes at a time.

#i should've just bailed and written another story when i had the chance #i'm not joking i've never fought a fiction piece this hard before. usually because i'm not writing for specific deadlines #and not a piece so big. and not one that's gonna be workshopped. i wanna blow them away but if things keep going the way they are everyone'#gonna tell me the pacing sucks and it feels pointless and the characters feel really confused. I KNOW. I KNOW THAT. FUCKK #i'm the type to do about 15 passes before i let someone see my 'first draft' and i'm just not gonna be able to do that if i want to get it #in time for a workshop. every day i delay is making things harder for my classmates y'know?? but i've been writing like 1k words a day #and it's still not done. GUHH #I DON'T LIKE WRITING THESE CHARACTERS THAT MUCH THEY'RE NOT FUNNY OR ENDEARING AND THAT'S MY LIKE.#MAIN SKILL AND VIBE WITH SHORT STORY DUOS. BUT NOOOO I HAD TO MAKE THEM DIFFERENT CUZ I WAS SICK OF DOING #THE SAME DYNAMIC OVER AND OVER. BITCH THIS IS YOUR FINAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TRIED AND TRUE GETS THE BLUE (RIBBON)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#head in my hands head in my hands head in my hands head in my hands head #going to work on it some more. fuckk #the voices aren't consistent and i'm trying to make it clear that this is toxic bird yuri and not a mother/daughter thing but the maternal #themes are kind of fucking with that but they're important and i don't wanna get rid of them but it feels forced cuz im forcing it #sigh. i'm gonna have to cut the yuri. these two don't work romantically at all. what a waste of time.#i watched the entirety of mnthly girls' nozaki-kun in the past two days while avoiding writing. did you know that? the lengths to which i'l #go? anyway it was fun i appreciate fellow creative agony and i uh never knew how they did screen tones and wasn't expecting that somehow #so i learned something new (hooray). anyway back to. fucking. bird story stuff #i'm so mad i hate these two (<- lying. just pissy) i hate this story (<- mostly exaggerating. throwing a tantrum)#eughhhhhh i just wanna lie on the floor and cryyyyyyyyyy (<- completely deadpan irl. not That upset just kind of sick of shit)#i'm so burnt out and it's only gonna get worse. ughh #why can't someone just come in and write it for meeeeeeeeeeheheuhhh (<- would hate that)

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uncleskyrule · 7 months

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me, writing my WIP: alright boys, let's have a cute, fluffy, fun time building a tiny terrarium for Dot's birthday present :D

Four and Hyrule: *at each other's throats, for some reason??*

#hELp sdjnsdnjs idk what's happening but it's what i'm feeling so we're going with it #note: this is verbal fighting okay i would never pitch two baddies against each other in a physical fight #i've never written hyrule before and i think this is me processing his and four's personality differences lmao #reyna's ramblings #lu four #lu hyrule #my fic

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lunar-years · 3 months

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writing a whole chapter of just jamiekeeley in season one which i have never done before and i am having sooo much fun with it. I love them.

#i pretty much never write season one to begin with so this is particularly experimental lol #then chapter two is just roykeeley which is ALSO something i've never written before :)#jamiekeeley #royjamiekeeley #ted lasso #my writing #fic: career change #ship post

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bluejayblueskies · 1 year

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i've often yearned to be in a romantic relationship, from when i was pretty young to now even though i now recognize that i'm aromantic and it's not something i actually want when push comes to shove. and this probably isn't anything profound, but i've started to wonder recently if i'm actually yearning for a romantic relationship or if i'm yearning for a deeply meaningful, intimate, and loving relationship with somebody who i can trust and show all the parts of myself and know that they'll always be on my side and spend the rest of my life with, and society has just told me over and over and over again that i can't have that without the romance

#now i know what you're thinking:#'hey jay you talk a lot about queerplatonic relationships and how they're important #and you talk a lot also about how friendships are just as intimate and loving as romantic relationships'#and yeah i do! recently i've been involved in fandom spaces where we talk about these things (like malevolent)#with a lot of other aspec people who share their own experiences (esp. with malevolent with the aro!arthur headcanons)#but i've always been really bad at actually integrating that stuff into how i go about my own irl life #and tbh ... even if it crossed my mind before i never really thought it was a realistic thing to want yknow?#the thought of 'well who's going to give you what you want out of a relationship and be okay with it *not* being romantic'#has definitely crossed my mind many times #but idk! i've always just really wanted that One Person Who Will Be With You Always that i saw growing up irl and in media #and that i still see and love and want #and i still don't know if i personally will ever find somebody who i want that with who won't be looking for romance #but it's finally started to sink in i think that what i want and who i am are not two conflicting forces #i can want all the things that a romantic relationship has to offer (minus the romance of course) *and* i can be aromantic #and these are two things that can coexist #and that real people have! and that i'm seeing written into media! (malevolent my beloved)#it's just helped me wrap my head around all of this a little bit better #personal

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iguessigotta · 2 years

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Have you ever thought of the prospect of Dark being able to hypnotize? My Drabble lord, please bless me with a hypno Drabble 👏😩

have i thought about Dark being able to hypnotize? ONLY EVERY FUCKIN DAY SINCE I READ THAT ONE FIC weirdlyhornyforegos DID!! TW/CW: mind control, possible dub-con if you squint, reader's havin a fuckin great time tho, nsfw-ish No gendered pronouns used, but written with a transmasc reader in mind i tried to base the general vibe off of some of the honestly hottest lyrics I've ever heard: "I can't wait to get you all alone, all alone//Once I'm in, there ain't no letting go, letting go//Watch me turn your mind into my home" - Mind Games by Sickick "Bite your tongue//Don't you know how wild these thoughts will run?//Careful now//I hang on every word that leaves your mouth" - Ideas by Au/Ra but idk how well i did there, lmao

Your mind felt hazy, slowed and dragging slower by the second. Stringing a full thought together took a near-Herculean effort, as though you were trudging through knee-deep mud, feet sticking to the bottom with every step. A lazy drunken smile spread across your face as you swayed lightly in place, your eyes rolling back before closing, as your head tilted up to the ceiling. You felt confused, disconnected, almost floaty. You breathed a bit heavier, feeling the panic of not having a tether to the ground beginning to rise in you, as though you might float away if someone didn't save you. It was hard to stay standing, even harder to think.

Exactly how you'd asked him to make you feel.

Eventually that tether you craved did arrive, in the form of Dark's hands wrapping gently around your arms, pulling you towards him. You gasped when his hand appeared in you hair, cradling you head, only to let out a contented sigh as his lips met your neck. At the same time, you felt this odd sensation, as though someone had tied a rope to your mind, and now they were gently tugging on it. Try as you might, you couldn't figure out what it wanted. The addition of quiet, distant voices wasn't much help. You strained to make out words, frowning and letting out an unhappy sound when you couldn't sort out what it was saying. What it was commanding you to do.

Dark froze at the sound, backing off and lifting his head to look you in the eye. "What's wrong, Love?" the hint of genuine fear in his voice was like a stab to the heart, "Are you alright?"

"W-what? Am I...wait, nonono, you're fine," you said, voice raising to a near-whine as you reached out to hold his face in your hands, "You didn't d-do anything wrong." He held still a moment, resting his cheek in your hand, looking at you, before closing his eyes and letting out a breath you didn't know he'd been holding.

"Is it too much, then?" he asked, a teasing tone to his voice, "I can always turn it off, you need only ask. I know how much of a toll this can take on a mind."

"Turn it off? Don't you dare!" you half-shouted, dragging his face to yours, resting your foreheads together with a giggle, "I-it's - I - I'm..." You huffed and tried to organize your sluggish thoughts. "It's not overwhelming, that's the problem," you confessed, feeling a little guilt at demanding more from him, "My head's slow, but still too loud. I can't hear the.....your.....commands...well enough. I don't kn-now what they're saying."

As you spoke, you felt your face heat up, suddenly very glad you'd pressed your foreheads together, as you were sure you couldn't look him in the eye at that moment. His breath fanned across your face as he let out a light chuckle before moving down to kiss your neck.

"Oh, is that all?" he asked against your skin. Or, you thought he did. You found yourself suddenly unsure if he'd spoken at all, as he continued to kiss a line down your throat. You took a steadying breath as the room began to do a slow backflip, clinging to Dark's arms in an effort to stay upright. You heard him chuckle again, but this time the sound came from inside your own head, echoing lightly, making your mouth split in a smile, a light laugh escaping you. Reality felt like it was spinning, the weightless feeling was nearly overwhelming now, turning Dark into your sole anchor, making you desperately crave any contact you could have with him.

And then you felt that tug on your mind again. The accompanying voices were much louder this time, though you still couldn't make out what they said. It seemed as though your body understood, however, as it started moving on its own. You watched as your own hands raised themselves to press against Dark's chest, pushing him back, pulling another chuckle from him. You grinned at him before letting control over your body go.

Dark watched you turn with a small smile, his hand dragging lightly across your back. He made quick work of removing his jacket and shirt, barely holding back an affectionate laugh when you stumbled, catching yourself on the bedpost, before following you.

His hand rested lightly on your back as he slid past you into the bed, laying on his back. You held back a frown, opting instead to tilt your head at him in confusion, brows furrowed. "What are y-" you began, earning you a soft "Hush, Love" and another, stronger, tug at your mind. You let out a shaky breath before allowing your body to move. Unfortunately this time Dark stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

"Ah, I forgot," he murmured, sitting upright and reaching for the waistband of your pants, "These need to come off first." Without even a second's warning, Dark pulled your pants and underwear down to your ankles, pressing a kiss to your outer thigh as he straightened up.

"I apologize," he spoke, that light teasing tone back in his voice, "It seems I'd skipped a step in my excitement." When you made eye contact again, you fought to not hide your face, suddenly shy under his burning gaze. He smiled softly, a mischievous turn to the corner of his mouth, before laying back once more, eyes still on you.

You wanted to say something, but before you could form a shred of a thought, you felt that tug again. Closing your eyes and sighing happily, you let it move your limbs, pulling yourself onto the bed and climbing clumsily to straddle Dark's torso. You began inching upwards, towards his face, as his hands came up to rest on your ass. You frowned lightly, pausing to look down at him.

"T-this.....isn't what I thought you'd have me doing," you spoke slowly, straining to keep the slur out of your words, "What're y-" He cut you off with a gentle "shh" before pressing on your ass, forcing you upwards again.

"Don't worry, My Love," he said, breath hot against your inner thigh as he helped you to straddle him, hovering nervously above his mouth, "Be patient and let me have my fun first. It will be your turn soon enough." Before you had a moment to think of objecting, his grip, now on your hips, tightened as he pulled you down to him.

#darkiplier x reader #darkiplier x y/n #darkiplier x trans!reader #n/s/f/w #ok this isn't quite what i'd had written before but it's close #all the same scenes just worded differently #tbh i'm amazed i was able to remember any of this much less rewrite it all in one go #i've earned myself a treat for that i think #anywho hi yes hello i am a Full Grown Adult(tm) who has never written smut in his life #so i apologize for the fade-to-black ending. i'm just not sure how well i'd do at writing it #BUT if y'all like this and really want me to try lemme know #and i'll try to pick this up in a part two #try is the key word #it's 4 am and i'm full of chaos so imma just post it #happy sunday! here's some almost-filth!

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icewindandboringhorror · 1 year

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feeling sick constantly in the background all the time is like.. usually negligible-ish.. until multiple various chronic background issues all happen to overlap at once and then it’s like

#Like usually I cycle between like. joint pain issues. chest muscle injury stuff. back pain. stomach problems. headaches. etc.#There is never a day that I feel totally normal for the most part. but it's usually just little things here and there on and off #chronic things that seem to flare up sometimes. But then every once in a while it's like the flare ups align and I'll have 6 of the problems #at the same time and then is AaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #For some reason it's okay to deal with one or two of these things at any given time. but if I have to deal with like 3+ at once #or two of the old ones plus one NEW thing I've never had before or etc. etc.#I just can't even do anything. I run around stressed out of my mind unable to focus on any tasks or do anything but feel bad #then I cant even play games or do fun stuff becuause my brain wont let me be distracted from fixating on the fact that I feel bad #It's kind of the same way that it's stressful for me to go into grocery stores because my brain LITERALLY just is not capable of tuning out #all of the noises and lights and sensory information - so it' gets overwhelming quickly. I also just literally cannot tune out sensory infor #mation from my body. so if something feels even a LITTLE weird or a LITTLE painful or is even slightly different than usual #especially if it's overlapping with multiple other 'low level chronic pain' type things then my brain is just like.. being given way too muc #h information that it still cant tune out and then I can't focus and just walk around in a daze for however long until one of the issues #goes away on it's own (like joint pain flare ups usually come and go etc. etc.). or until I see a doctor abut whatever the new thing is #and maybe something they do or say actually helps or etc. etc.#Idk I have SO SO much I want to do the beginning of the year and so many projects to finish and things to post and schedules I have #written out for me to get on (like excercising more consistently and etc.) and it's just furstrating for my brain to just be like #ah.. nope.. we are not doing that. instead we are going to be completely incapacitated by a host of physical issues #which I think most ''normal people'' would just ignore like ''oh yeah I'll just load myself up on ibuprophen and coffee and energy #drinks and advil and sleep supplements and this and that'' or whatever but I can't do that it just makes stuff worse. I have to just sit for #days having a mind battle like 'okay yes we're having these problems.. but we can still like.. do SOMETHING right? we could like.. write #or draw. or things that don't take much energy'' and brain is just like NO!!! WE CANT!!! BECAUSE!! THING IS WEIRD!!!' and it's like okay #but thing is going to be weird. there's nothing we can do about thing being weird right now. so we should just focus on something else #'NO!! CANNOT TUNE OUT THING BEING WEIRD!! lets just fixate on it instead and wander aimlessly from thing to thing never able #to fully focus on any other task. hee hee''. anyway. hhghh.. sometimes I just get tired of having Various Ailments at any given time #especially unexplained ones or weird recurring problems that doctors haven't done much about because then it lends to paranoia like #'what if something is seriously wrong but I just dont know it yet?' which could be the case. I mean hopefully not. but I just hate stuff #being unexplained. because if there's no clear answer then the answer could be anything. even somehting bad. *** :V #ANYWAY gghhb... just bothered at the moment. I was going to come here like 'hey maybe I could post some drafts or pictures or something that #could feel productive!' but.. i dont feel like it. i dont care. too focused on Bad Feeling. just going to complain instead lol

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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 years

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For the september/sicktember thing, how about Hyrule with strep throat? Or Sky with a migraine. Whichever takes your fancy.

Let's torture Hyrule! :D

(Click here to read on AO3)

Hyrule cleared his throat.

It was a beautiful morning, and he’d gotten up fairly early in eager anticipation of their departure. While Hyrule enjoyed seeing different villages and seeing how others lived and thrived, he had earned his nickname as the Traveler for a reason. He loved being on the road.

Hyrule cleared his throat again. Goodness, it certainly seemed a little dry… and achy.

Writing it off as probably the dryer air, Hyrule gathered his belongings and silently slipped out of the room so as not to disturb Sky. They’d all stayed at an inn for the night while they’d rested and restocked on supplies, and Hyrule, Sky, and Wild had bunked together. Wild, of course, was already awake and downstairs – he rose with the sun (sometimes before it) and was definitely a morning person.

It was as Hyrule was going down the stairs that he gave a tentative swallow to wet his throat and then shuddered.

Holy heaven, that hurt.

Hyrule let out an involuntary groan at the scratching in the back of his throat, and he was alarmed at how weak his voice sounded. Maybe some tea would help the situation? He was sure he had some peppermint that he could make into a tea.

Sighing, the traveler headed down to the main level with purpose. He reached into his adventure pouch and dug around, his arm steadily slipping farther and farther into the leather bag. Growing frustrated, he tossed the bag onto the nearest table and ferociously buried both arms into it, all the way up to his shoulders. The occasional passerby paused, throwing a bewildered glance in his direction, but Hyrule didn’t notice.

His hand slipped around a rough drawstring sack, and he smiled. Gotcha.

Pulling out the sack, he opened it and rifled through the different herbs he’d collected throughout his travels. The leaves had grown far crunchier since the last time he’d used it, but he was sure it would still work.

Wiping some sweat off his brow (when had he started sweating?), Hyrule grabbed a fistful of shriveled peppermint leaves and made his way to the communal kettle sitting over the fire. He pulled out a flask and filled it with steaming water and mixed the peppermint, sealing the flask and shaking it – not the most refined way to make tea, he was told, but it worked well enough for him.

Giving the tea a couple minutes to seep, he looked around and saw Wild entering with ingredients. The champion smiled before cocking his head to the side, his brow furrowing. “Traveler, are you okay?”

Hyrule smiled reassuringly, swallowing by instinct and opening his mouth to speak, when his throat screamed in protest at the gesture. He grimaced again, gripping the nearby table and glaring at the wood. He held up a finger as Wild worriedly walked towards him, and then took a quick swig from his flask.

That was a bad idea.

As soon as the scalding peppermint-infused water hit the back of his throat, his entire body balked, his stomach twisted in protest, and Hyrule proceeded to vomit all over the floor.

Sniffling, Hyrule rubbed the snot and bile from his face with his sleeve, mumbling, “Oops.”

“Yikes,” Wild said softly as he walked over. “How about you sit down, Traveler? I’ll clean up the mess.”

Hyrule felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment and shame, and he said, “I can clean it.”

And then proceeded to dry heave as aggravating his inflamed throat triggered his gag reflex.

Wild smiled sympathetically, patting Hyrule on the shoulder. “Let me handle it, okay?”

Letting out a slow, controlled breath, Hyrule dragged his feet to the table as Wild grabbed a cloth and started to soak up the mess he’d made. He felt incredibly guilty for causing a scene and getting sick on someone else’s floor, not to mention for having one of his dear friends clean up after him.

Footsteps caught his attention, and he groggily gazed at the doorway to see Twilight.

“What happened?” the Ordonian asked.

“Traveler threw up,” Wild explained simply.

Hyrule heard Twilight shuffle over to him, sitting to his left on the bench. His hand was warm, almost too warm on Hyrule’s shoulder. The touch was brief; Twilight quickly jerked his hand away and pressed the back of his palm against Hyrule’s forehead, making the young traveler flinch.

“You’re burning up, Traveler,” Twilight said softly. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

Hyrule felt his stomach churn, twist, and drop all at the same time. He leaned heavily on his legs with his hands. He didn’t want to lie down, he wanted to leave.

But he wasn’t going to argue with the rancher. He knew when to ignore a fever and when to submit to it. Besides, he was in town – if they left now and his illness worsened, it wouldn’t be good. He didn’t want to be vulnerable in unsafe areas.

Sighing through his nose in defeat, Hyrule slowly rose and let Twilight guide him back upstairs. He paused halfway to the door, scrambling for his flask that he’d dropped, and gave Wild an apologetic pout. The champion smiled reassuringly and winked, warming Hyrule’s heart a little.

When they’d gotten upstairs once more, Twilight entered the room where Hyrule had been staying.

“Wake up, Sky,” he heard the rancher say as he approached the entrance.

Peeking in, Hyrule saw Sky sleeping on the edge of the bed, tangled in the blanket, his brow furrowed but his eyes still shut. Twilight sighed and opted to stop being gentle, shaking the teenager instead.

Sky groaned, slowly inhaling and opening his eyes to look blearily at the Ordonian.

“Traveler’s sick,” Twilight explained, and Hyrule shriveled into the shadows a little in shame. “You’re going to have to get up so he can rest.”

Sky blinked at him, registering the words as his mind struggled to wake up, and then he sat up fully. “He’s sick? Where is he?”

Hyrule would speak up, but he didn’t want to throw up again. Besides, the room was getting… awfully…

Shaking his head, the traveler leaned heavily against the door frame. The world was spinning, and he started to slide towards the floor. Twilight must have noticed, because he heard quick footsteps and was suddenly hoisted into the air. By the goddesses, the rancher really was strong.

“S-s’r’y…” he finally ground out, feeling his throat scream at even that attempt. His stomach, thankfully, didn’t protest… much. He felt drool pooling in his mouth as he was terrified to swallow it.

“It’s okay,” Twilight said softly with a smile, lowering Hyrule onto the bed as Sky, who had apparently quickly gotten out of bed, arranged the pillows and blankets for him.

As Hyrule curled into a ball on the bed, wrapping the blankets around himself tightly and trying to ignore his aching throat and stomach, he saw Twilight place a waste bin beside the bed and then face Sky. “I’ll go tell the Old Man. You good staying with him for now?”

Sky nodded with a gentle smile, watching the rancher leave. Then he pulled up a chair and sat, stretching his arms and back. Hyrule felt a little awkward, honestly – he wasn’t accustomed to anyone staying with him for anything, but especially when he was sick. He tried to bury his face under the blanket to avoid any accidental eye contact, but he eventually had to bend over the bed and spit out whatever drool he was holding hostage in his mouth.

“You want some water, Traveler?” Sky asked.

He desperately wanted to say yes, but the last time he’d tried to drink, it hadn’t ended well. So he shook his head.

But it didn’t seem to matter either way. Hyrule’s stomach suddenly decided it was time to erupt again, and he hastily ducked his head over the waste basket once more. He felt Sky’s hand on his back, a grounding force while he waited for Hyrule to finish. The traveler couldn’t help the moan that escaped his throat when he was done, sniffling and spitting. He tipped forward, nearly falling face first into the waste bin, when Sky’s strong arms guided him back to the pillow. He felt the Skyloftian wipe his face and then heard the familiar quiet footsteps of the champion.

“I made some ginger tea for him,” Wild said softly. “Helps with nausea.”

He couldn’t see anything with his eyes squeezed shut in misery, but Hyrule could hear the smile in Sky’s tone. “That’s very kind of you, thanks Champion. I’ll give it to him.”

As the traveler shivered under the covers, he felt Sky tuck him in and settle him more comfortably. He heard heavier footsteps, a handful of his friends entering the room, and he heard curtains rustling and closing and a candle being lit. There were soft murmurs and whispers, shuffling feet, a blessedly cool hand on his forehead, brushing the curls off his face, and then everything grew still. It wasn’t lonely, though, as it sometimes was when he’d been sick in the past. He could hear someone breathing softly, he could hear the sound of pages rustling as someone read, the sound of fabric being pierced as someone mended stitches. He smiled, settling more comfortably in bed.

Okay, he wasn’t accustomed to others being around while he was sick, and that was a little awkward… but it was also really nice.

#you ask skye answers #writing prompt #ask game #I've never actually written Hyrule's POV before so hopefully this was ok #linkeduniverse #linked universe #sicktember #writing #lu hyrule #lu wild #lu twilight #Hyrule's thinking oh my throat hurts I've got an herb for that #and then the herb is like two years old and shriveled to a crisp #someone teach this boy that things aren't preserved in his magic pouch #lovely anon

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