#i might expand on this au if anyone wants an expansion

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Giving birth the au natural way

This is a reworking of a roleplay I had recently with @allkindsofpreg

Hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed working on it :)

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Our midwife was surprisingly agreeable. Which was a shock… first time, clueless parents being left to their own devices to bring forth a baby wasn’t exactly many couples idea of a good time, but for us, we were prepared and ready. We much preferred our own company as much as anyone else’s, and let’s be honest, we find we can be ourselves more when we don’t have a room of people watching us. So we booked the retreat our midwife recommended to us. 2 houses in an area of nothingness, one for us, one for her. We paid through the nose to book them for 2 weeks but we had to be sure so we booked 1 week either side of your due date. We’d spent a week here getting set up when early morning came on your due date accompanied by some mild, but noticeable cramping. A text to the midwife, and a reply saying she was on her way - but if we didn’t need her just let her know when the baby was born and she’d come and do the medical checks.

You swallowed a big gulp of fresh woodland air as you stood on the patio area, the weather thankfully warm enough to not need to wrap up. You were barefoot and wearing a light top and shorts set that you had been sleeping in - by rights should still be sleeping in - but the cramps were getting you excited - you’d waited 9 months for this moment.

You gathered up the hem of your top to rest on top of the impressive expanse of your stomach. The muscles there tightened again and, closing your eyes, leaning against the doorframe. The gentle breeze felt cool against your flushed skin. You pressed a hand to the spot you could feel our little one kicking out against.

“I know, it’s not comfortable for you either, is it?” Another kick in response confirmed it and you smiled. “Well it won’t be long now.” Hopefully, anyway.

You wandered back in the house to scour the kitchen for some light breakfast— you were going to need the energy later. You were just about to pour a glass of orange juice when you felt my arms slide around your pregnancy-expanded waist, my body moulding around your back. You leaned back into me and rested your head against my shoulder. “You should go back to bed,” you mumbled, but I made no move to let you go. “Might be a while before we get another chance.”

“I heard you correctly earlier, and I’ll be damned if you think I’m missing any of this” I say, kissing the back of your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. I release off you and fill the coffee machine and set it to brew “though I suspect I might need this” I say with a grin.

I walk to the door you were recently outside of and look out to the sunrise just starting to poke above the horizon.

“Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day to watch a beautiful woman do something beautiful with our baby”

The smell of freshly brewed coffee brought with it a longing. Technically it was fine for you to have a cup, but the nerves were already starting to build and the whole point of coming out here was to keep everything calm and peaceful. Besides, the baby didn’t seem to like it and nauseous was the last thing you wanted to be right now. You just decided to stick with toast and juice.

By the time you had finished preparing your food, the coffee was finished also, so you poured some into a campfire mug and joined me on the patio.

“I’m glad we’re doing this here,” you said, handing over the cup and taking in the view with me. You placed down your plate, and hands now free, you placed them at your hips and arched backward, pulling your shoulder blades together and stretching your lower back. It made your belly stick out even more and caused your shirt to ride up about halfway, getting stuck there even when you straightened back up. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “What? You find this sexy?” you asked, rocking your hips and rolling your huge tummy around in a little mock seductive dance. “Enjoy it now, before it’s gone!”

I moved around in front of you, my hands clasping around the belly, warm to the touch. I can’t help but smile. “I’ll enjoy it as much as I can… then the next… then the next one after that” I punctuated each statement with a kiss. Suddenly I feel your belly tense and you betray the moment with a slight wince “was that a contraction?” I ask.

“Mmm,” you hummed in confirmation, leaning into my touch and letting out a slow breath, your hands finding purchase on my forearms. This one held on a bit longer, sharpening at its peak, and your grip tightened considerably— your anchor as the pain washed over you. Your stance widened, your knees bend as I supported you and coached you to sway in time with your breaths. Even when it passed you kept your hold on me, looking into the distance and laughing a little breathlessly.

“I guess they started last night,” you admitted, a little sheepishly. “But it was the same as I’d been feeling for weeks now and, I don’t know, I guess I thought labor would feel… different somehow. But they’re definitely closer together now. And stronger.” The aftershocks of that last cramp still twinged and tugged. “So I guess todays the day?”

“We can only hope” I say with a smile. My phone buzzes with a text, I pick it up and read it - it’s from the midwife. She’s texting to say she just arrived and she was going to get bedded down and for us to ring her in case she’s needed - she’d keep her phone on loud so it would wake her. I casually comment that she’s made good time but not really surprising considering the time of day it is.

We hold each other close looking out over the brightening morning.

“Want to go for a walk?” I enquire, “might help get things established? I’ll be nice and even help you get your shoes and socks on!”

Considering you hadn’t been able to reach your feet for some time now, you gladly accept my offer. Grabbing some stretchy leggings and a t-shirt from the dresser, your gaze lingers on the little stack of newborn onesies folded up on top - you give your tummy a little pat—it’s hard to believe that soon there’s going to be a whole new person in the world. You admit you’re going to miss this, the feeling of having someone growing inside me, but you suspect you won’t have to miss it for long. We want a big family.

We start out along the same path we’ve been walking every morning, but only barely make it past the tree line when another contraction hits. You try to walk through it at first, but of course I notice and suggest we take a rest and remind me that this is why we’re here—it’s not a race, we’re not trying to force anything, we’re just going to listen and respond and let it happen.

After an hour, your clothes are stuck moulded to your skin, your hips are aching, and we’re still only halfway through the loop. “This is a lot harder than it was yesterday,” you say, still slightly hunched and out of breath from the latest contraction.

I stop and rub your back, the feeling eliciting a groan of appreciation from you, I then say “come on let’s do the thing”

You smile knowing what I mean. You stretch out, straightening your back as I come in behind you. Reaching around and crossing my hands under your belly I pull up relieving the pressure on your back and hips immensely. Your sigh of relief was glorious. We stood there for a good minute just rocking side to side in the strange form of embrace until you reach down and grab at my hand. The next contraction was building, and I could feel everything in your belly between my fingers. You grunt as the feeling builds, gripping my forearm more and more. The feeling doesn’t last long, 30 seconds at most, but it had only been around 10 minutes since your last one - you were keeping track. They were definitely speeding up.

As your grip lessens on my arm signalling the end of the pain I lower your belly and gradually let go, accompanied by a ‘whump’ sound expelled from you as you took back over the weight.

Still behind you I wrap my arms in the gap between your breasts and the top of your belly hugging you close.

I whisper close to your ear, something about the early morning and complete quiet not wanting me to speak too loudly as I say “sorry baby, I had to… let it go”

Of course the last words were said in a song-song tone as you groaned - nothing to do with the contractions this time. I apologise with “so I started the dad jokes a little bit early.”

You feel a little roll and then a kick up somewhere near your rib cage. “See? Even the baby is protesting,” you whine, rubbing at the tender spot. Alright, maybe you’re a little cranky at having to bear the full weight of gravity again. But it gives you an idea. “Lake?” you suggest.

It’s another two contractions before we get to the clearing, but it’s so worth it. The lake is surrounded by mountains on one side, forest on the other, and the water is crystal clear and still quite cold. I give you a skeptical look, but you’re determined. “It’s warming up now that the sun’s up,” you reason. “Or maybe we’ll just have to huddle together for warmth,” you suggest with a waggle of your eyebrows, without hesitation you pull off your shirt and kick off the shoes you would not be able to put back on by yourself. The leggings are too clingy and stuck to bother trying to take off, so they’re all you’re wearing as you begin to wade into the fresh water.

You take a step in and all the air leaves my lungs in one whoosh. It. Is. Cold. But now here you are, topless, one foot in the water, back straining, and another contraction starting with no feasible form of relief in sight. Suddenly the pressure spikes and this baby feels so heavy pressing down inside you. You let out some noise of surprise or discomfort and I'm there in an instant.

I wade into the water throwing off my top and tossing it into the rough area where your pile of clothes are, my own trousers and shoes still on and soaked through.

“Babe!” you call, though I’m already there—a question, a plea.

I grab hold of your hand as you squeeze for all you’re worth, the pain of the contraction evident. You’re clearly having a difficult time as you let out a low pitched moan as your grip tightens and tightens against my hand. Suddenly you release, gasping a breath out.

“You OK?” I enquire. You nod, not able to speak. A few seconds later you manage “that was a rough one, hope there aren’t too many like that” with a weak smile.

I return the smile to you as your hands release mine and you rub them over my body. “My big strong hero diving into the water to save his damsel in distress”

I gulp, noticing the chilled water having an obvious effect on your nipples, they had already gotten big and dark with the onset of your milk coming in, and now they poked out almost as long as a finger to the first knuckle.

You follow my eyes and see where I have spotted.

“Nipple stimulation is good to bring on contractions you know” you purr at me.

I don’t need to be told twice my hands paw at your breasts, your voice betraying a giggle as I move to the nipples, water from the lake leaving them slippery as my fingers tug and squeeze them. Your hands move from my body to both sides of your belly as you groan - at first with the pleasure of my touch then finally with the effects of another contraction starting its journey on you.

“I guess it works,” you note before the full force of the contraction takes hold, grabbing onto my shoulders and resting your forehead against mine, breathing in and out slowly along with me as the pain crests. It still hurts, but at least the water is taking off some of the pressure and you’re able to stay present through the whole thing.

When it’s over, you slide your hands down my arms and position me hands back on your breasts. “I think we’re getting the hang of this whole ‘labour’ thing,” you say with a grin as I continue my previous ministrations. You initiate a kiss and push yourself deeper into my grasp and chuckle as you’re brought up short by the belly between us.

Your hands find their way to my chest, my hips, then dip down beneath the waistband of my pants. It’s not exactly an ideal temperature for this, but you still hear my grunts of pleasure as you stroke, massage and tug.

We pause for another contraction—your grip moving a safe distance away from anything particularly sensitive—and you bury your face into the crook of my neck with a groan. The vocalizations help, a long, sustained note that rises in volume, but breaks when the contraction becomes too much and you switch to releasing short puffs of air. When you’re finally able to take a full breath again, you lift your head and look into my eyes. “Maybe we should start heading back.”

“You’re the boss, princess” I grin as I follow you out of the water, watching it drain off down your hips and ass as you get closer and closer to the edge. You give a little wiggle as you feel my hand pressed against your soaked through bottoms making contact with your ass cheek and I’m reminded of the caress you gave me in the water, my own length stiffening at the thought once again. We finally reach the waters edge and find a tree stump for you to sit on as I dry off what I can of your feet using my top before sliding your shoes back on again. I give you a hand putting your own top on as I pull on my own - now wet and sticking to my body, as I give you a hand up and we start our slow, squelching walk back to the cabin.

“Right now I want a nice warm shower” I say, you nod as another contraction picks up. You’re now at the point where you’re coping by vocalising, you stop moving as the contraction is upon you. You groan something in between your moans about the head feeling so low and how much your hips hurt that I come in behind you and squeeze my hands tight against your hips, pressing to try and help.

The force of my hands adds a nice bit of respite for your overtaxed back and pelvis, but it does little to counter the powerful pressure barrelling down in your core. You can’t speak, can’t stand up

straight, can’t focus on anything besides the air moving in and out of your lungs, and even that is a struggle.

Between the increasingly frequent contractions and your slow walk turning into an even slower waddle, the trip back from the lake takes at least twice as long as it did to get there. Our destination is in sight when another contraction hits and you grab onto my forearms—it’s a routine by this point—and bend your knees, getting into a gentle squat in front of you. Everything feels swollen and tight and impossibly full as your womb compresses. You start to wonder if your water breaking would relieve some of that painful tension.

Finally, we make it back and the shower is big enough for a party, so there’s easily enough room for both of us and the birthing ball we’d brought. I start the water, help strip you out of your wet and sticky clothes, and get you situated on the ball before getting myself ready and joining you in there. The warmth—and my hands—soothe your tight muscles as you roll your hips in gentle circles on the ball. It’s almost as if you can feel the head moving down with the force of each contraction and as a result you keep your legs splayed wide. More than once you catch my eyes lingering on your feminine curves. With more than a little assistance, you get up and have me take your seat on the ball; then you sit on my lap facing me, your belly pressing into me, your legs wrapped around mine in invitation.

The slippery ball coupled with the slippery occupants take a lot of my concentration to stay stable as you climb onto my lap, but wrapping your arms around the back of my neck helps keep us upright.

Your belly presses tight against me as you continue to writhe and wriggle as you huff and pant in my ear, your forehead pressed against mine.

I find myself getting hard at the closeness of your body and you react to the feel of the bulge pressing against the underside of your belly by rocking back and forth teasing both it and me.

My hands grip behind your back as you writhe, as I manage to get what little purchase I can on your slippery skin.

The contraction snuck up on you, your mind elsewhere as the all too familiar tightening ramped up, causing you to lean back and grip hard on my shoulders. You suddenly squeal as you feel a release. Whilst the obvious splash was lost in the water running within the shower, your waters had broken, and the sudden realisation that the baby’s head is just right on the cusp of appearing at your lips has you start shaking with anxiety, knowing you’re getting closer to having to push.

“Oh!” Even though you’ve been expecting it, waiting for it, the sudden release still takes you by surprise. Without the cushion of the amniotic sac the head descends quickly and violently, locking into your canal like a dislocated joint popping back into place. “Ohhh,” the exclamation quickly turns into a groan—the new wave of pressure that comes with this contraction is intense and your hand automatically reaches between your legs. There’s nothing there to touch yet, but you swear it feels like the baby is about to fall right out of you.

You slide off my lap and settle into a deep squat. Your breaths are coming in short, frantic gasps and the water running down your face makes it difficult to take in air, so you pitch forward onto your knees, resting your crossed forearms on my thighs and burying your head between my knees. Any other time the gesture would be most salacious, but right now all you want is to get through this contraction without drowning. I do my best to pull your hair back and shield you from the shower head, you manage to pant and curse your way through the worst of it.

You say we need to get out of here, to dry off and get to wherever we want to be for the birth, but even when it’s over you can’t bring yourself to unfurl from your current position. I presume you must be comfortable, as we stay this way for several seemingly back-to-back contractions that leave you trembling, nauseous and a little bit lightheaded. The weight in your hips seems to keep you anchored to the ground.

You recall reading about what labour would be like, how difficult and painful and relentless the transition stage usually is, but some part of you thought that preparing for it would make you more equipped to handle it. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” you admit, though you’re not sure I can hear your muffled voice over the water spray. Not that you have any choice.

Maybe I did hear you, or maybe I just know you well enough to sense that you need to change positions, because before you realise, the water is shut off and you’re on your feet, wrapped in an oversized towel and my embrace.

I assist you out of the shower and we plod slowly and deliberately step by step into the main living room. Your walking stance still has a widespread gait, almost like you had stepped out of a long day in the saddle, but I know it’s just subconscious with you trying to relieve the pressure on your hips.

I lead you forward to the sofa, where I guide your hands to the armrests on one side. You grab hold and drop down into a partial squat, bouncing a little on your thighs. "Let me get something down here, don’t want to make too much of a mess" I grin, though I think the expression is lost on you, entirely focusing on the weight in your pelvis.

I stroke your back and give it a rub as I step away and grab a few more towels, placing them on the seat and around in front of it. I suspect both the wooden floor, and the faux leather seats would wipe up fine, but I didn’t want to take any chances.

I hear a groan coming from you and look up to see you swaying your hips in a figure eight pattern. You look up and lock eyes with me, you give me a quick smile as if to say that you're OK, and I return the grin with "It's all going as it should baby, you're doing really well. I love you and you're doing a wonderful job."

You suddenly squat down low, using the chair arm as support, roaring as you dip down. I scramble to the side to make sure that there's nothing obvious happening spying a long trail of mucus dripping onto the floor from your crotch. I lift the back of the towel up, exposing your ass as you manage a moment of strained speech "can you see anything?"

"Sorry baby, no." I don’t mention the long trail of slime which I wipe off with the towel. There's no obvious bulging around your lips however. You give a dejected sigh. "I think you were doing really well there when you were using gravity to help, so lets get back to what we were doing in the shower, but maybe a little more upright?"

You nod, and let me take hold of you as I lead you around to the seat. I sit down on it, still noticeably dripping water from the shower from me, and you stand in front of me as I lower myself down. You then drop down into a squat between my legs, your belly hanging low almost touching the ground you squat is that deep - you use my knees and thighs as support. My hands reach over to your shoulders and squeeze as you turn your head slightly and nuzzle into my left hand. The brief moment of calm is lost when the next contraction picks up though, and you're soon roaring out loud once more.

You want to push, but know the urge is coming more from your head than your body. You catch yourself wishing for this to just be over and take a moment to refocus on the present moment. As the next contraction builds, you close your eyes and let your body do what it wants, what it needs.

Your grip on my thighs tightens, concentrating the tension there to allow the rest of your body to relax. Your hips are still restless but keeping them open feels right, so you continue to sway in your deep squat, shifting your weight as your knees swing left, and right, left, and right. You focus the sounds leaving your mouth into one long, sustained hum, the tone increasing in volume and pitch as the pressure intensifies. The pain starts deep in your core and radiates outward, wrapping around your butt, thighs and creeping up your spine and up to your shoulders.

You throw your head back suddenly, arching your back and pulling up against gravity’s strong downward force. The noises in your throat shift to a series of primal whining moans – your whole body trembles as it attempts to deal with the shocks of pain centralized in your core. Just when you think you will surely be split in two, it dulls just enough for you to find my eyes, my focus, my excitement and then you remember… yes, you’re excited too.

I stand with you in the small breaks between contractions to give your knees a break, but the breaks get smaller and smaller and soon there’s not even enough time to change positions before another one is upon you. You don’t want to be stuck in that position, so instead you follow me to a seated spot on the couch. It’s deep enough so that you can settle between my legs and rest your back up against me. I pepper kisses along the line of your shoulder and up your neck as you twist your head so I can place one on your lips. My hands are molded to your generous swell, you placing yours over the top of them, interlocking our fingers as another relentless wave begins.

You pant, moan and writhe through another two contractions before the pressure in your ass and back becomes unbearable - your tailbone feeling like it’s going to snap. You know it must be the baby’s head moving down. Time must be passing, but you don’t know how long it is before the frenzied onslaught of contractions begins to slow and you feel like you can finally take a breath again.

You stand up and sit on my knee, pivoting in the position to swing one of your legs over my thigh, turning yourself sideways so that you can look up at me.

“Hi,” you say, and giggle as I give your bum an affectionate little squeeze. “I think it’s time to decide…” you pause, suddenly filled with nervous energy. I pull you in close, rub your tummy and wait for you to continue. The next contraction confirms it—the feeling, the urge that’s been building slowly until this moment when it now seems so obvious—you try to get the words out but you’re quickly tensed and grunting, trying your best not to be completely consumed by it.

“Need to decide—“ a quick huff, “where I’m going—“ a groan, “hnngh, to start pushing!” you finally yell, slamming backward into me and panting so quickly and heavily that it looks like you’re shaking. One of my hands grabs fiercely onto yours. The other disappears between your legs.

My mind recalls the bits of training and insight given to us by the midwife after we told her we wanted to go it alone. She was supportive, but of course insisted that she was nearby in case anything went wrong. She showed us a demonstration of dilation, and let me practice on a training dummy to see what the different stages felt like, so I was prepared. She explained it was often normal to feel like you need to push too early, so you were pushing against your own muscles rather than pushing into an open hole… it wasn't recommended.

My fingers entered into you, resulting in a small gasp. I immediately noticed how wet your passage was, presumably from the waters breaking, but thankfully I had no issue with snaking my fingers deeper and deeper. What shocked me first was how close to the entrance your cervix was - we had tested early in the pregnancy to see how deep I needed to feel back there, and to be blunt, it was painful pressing in that hard.

I felt the head at that point, my finger tracing around the circle of the entrance, a definite difference in texture between your muscles and the head of the baby. My face beamed. You looked at me quizzically. I replied "I can feel the baby, its right there, you're almost ready to push."

You managed a giggle and a strained sigh as you say "I know, I told you that, don't you doubt me young man when I tell you a need to find somewhere to push."

I look apologetic, but the mirth in your eyes gives away the fact you were just teasing me.

"Lets go outside…" I suggest, pausing a second, half expecting you to say no, that you were too vulnerable like this. You didn’t say anything. I continued. "I figure we wanted the natural air, the calming environment… and I don’t want to think I blew up the air mattress for nothing."

You giggled, but were cut short by another tensing pain. As we hold each other, you groan and howl, but start to wriggle off my lap. I question what the rush is, and you manage between panting breaths "don’t… know… how… long… I can wait."

I walk you over to the door, where you grab onto a chair back from the kitchen table sat by the large window overlooking the wilderness. I first grab hold of a pair of shorts - realising that if someone should walk past, it would be easier to avoid a public indecency charge for you than it would be for me - then pull open the door and rush back in to grab the air mattress I'd blown up the first day we got here.

As I dragged it and hefted it up to get it out the door, you pleaded at me to hurry. Your face showed genuine concern.

I took the mattress down the couple of stairs to a picnic area set outside the house. There was a cleared, grassy area next to it which didn’t have any significant amount of branches or any other sharp things which may burst the mattress, dashing back up for you, I led you down the few steps until you got to the mattress, lowering you down to your hands and knees.

You wasted no time at all, pushing back on your hands and thighs, you groaned, held your breath and gave your first push.

After so many hours of passive endurance, pushing with the contraction actually feels good. It almost seems to counter the internal pressure—almost—like finally being able to sneeze after your nose tickled all day. But it’s still your first time doing it and you’re not used to trying to focus and control those innermost muscles.

You rock back and you’re sure you look ridiculous with your ass high up in the air, but you feel my hands rubbing all along your thighs, coaxing you to relax and keep your hips open wide. For the first few contractions you try holding your breath and pushing as hard as you can for as long as you can. However, all that does is make you lightheaded and tired - and frustrated - that it seems to be fruitless.

I sense your growing impatience and ask if you want me to count for you and coach your pushes. You nod, and when you tense with the next contraction, I start at ten and work my way down to

one. You’re determined to keep going, but I tell me that it’s okay to let go and take a break for a second, that the baby is making its way down and it’s okay to breathe for a moment. You release a pained moan and try to pull in enough air to make it through another push. You’re trying to follow along with my instructions, but between being unable to see my face or feel your progress, having to balance on shaky arms on a shaky mattress… well, it’s just not working like that in this moment.

Carefully, you lower myself down so that you’re lying on your side, belly and head resting on some of the nest of pillows I’d brought out with us. Your knees are bent, one leg resting on the bed and the other flared out so you’re open like a clamshell. I sit toward the base of the mattress by your bent legs, my body angled toward yours so you can see me and your free leg can rest in my lap or over my shoulder. I also have a good line of sight as to what’s happening between your legs.

This puts a bit of unwelcome pressure on your hips, but for the most part this feels better—just as it was this morning, the breeze is fresh and cool against your skin allowing you to focus on my face and what your body is telling you. When another contraction starts, you hook my arm into the crook of my knee and pull it back toward your shoulder - as best as you can around your large stomach. Instead of holding your breath you release it slowly, squeezing your core and curling forward until you run out of air, then inhale just as slowly before repeating the process until the contraction begins to wane.

You lower your leg back down around my waist, put a hand on your belly, and look up at me with a smile. “That was good,” you say, finally feeling like you’re getting into the rhythm of this stage.

I plant a kiss on the top of your knee and join with you in feeling the firm swell that holds our child. “Just let me know if I can do anything” I offer with a little laugh.

Several contractions later you request that I begin holding your leg back—the urge to bear down is becoming overwhelming and you find yourself lost in it and unable to do anything else. The pressure is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, and every push feels like something is on the verge of cracking, bursting or tearing.

You’re holding your breath again, but only for a few seconds at a time—it’s all you can manage before the instinct to recoil from the pain takes over. It’s changing now—sharpening, burning—and you let out a sharp cry, your body jerking as your knees try to snap shut against my firm grip. I hold you in place, letting you squeeze me in a death grip even as I wrangle your legs to ensure your hips stay open. I try to rub a comforting hand along your stomach, thighs, and bum. You know you must be making progress when you feel me stretching and circling your vaginal opening, trying to prepare you for what’s to come. I give a few playful flicks to your clit, as if to make you forget how bad that last round of pushing felt. It works and you grind down on my hand, pushing it deeper into your folds.

“How- how close?” you ask, still panting despite the contraction being over.

“You’re doing really well” I say enthusiastically, “Each time you push, you bulge out… a few more and I might even start to see the head peeking out.”

You seem to visibly grow bolder at the news, renewing your stamina as you pull back your leg again, once more hooking it over my shoulder. I lean in with my hands, pressing lightly against the bulge forming in your vagina, the first outward signs of the head attempting to make its way, with your help, into the world.

Each push brings with it a groan of effort, and several huffing breaths as I keep count for you, trying to keep your focus on the task at hand rather than allowing your mind to wander and lose track of the progress rather than just concentrating on the pain in each rush of effort.

You push your crotch into my hands, wiggling a little as I stretch out my thumb in response and rub it slowly in circles around your clit. Your groans intensify to shouts, making me pause my actions, but you gasp in between breaths that its helping, and I shouldn’t stop. I leaned forward as best I could with your leg still up in the air on my shoulder and kissed the bottom of the bump, all the playful and affectionate touching resulting in your smile back at me as the contraction finally finished.

Another three, maybe four pushes later, and finally, the first outward signs of the baby appear at your lips, the teardrop shape stretching out over a tiny fraction of the head.

I almost jump with enthusiasm. “I can see it’s head baby… you’re doing so well… keep that effort up.” My gleeful sounds give you another burst of stamina, as you double up your efforts for the next push, straining hard.

“Easy baby… remember, it’s a marathon, not a sprint. You can’t force it. Take it nice and slow and you’ll get there sooner than you know.” You’re left panting by the exertion of the last attempt at pushing.

Of course, as much as there was some visibility of the head, it soon slipped back in again, your lips closing up around it as the push was let off, but between us, we both knew we had passed another milestone.

Your hand snakes down between your legs and feel around, realising that you couldn’t feel the head, and a little crestfallen, you start to take your hand away.

I grab your hand before you can remove it and put it back into place, using my fingers to separate your lips. Your fingers probe in and just inside, you feel it too, the slick, slightly spongy texture of the head of our baby.

“Keep it there on the next push” I say, as you nod, and once more the need to push is upon you. Feeling your finger being moved out as the head moves out, whilst only a fraction of an inch, gives you more motivation to carry on, and you’re suddenly beaming at me with your smiling face, the awe of the moment capturing you entirely.

“I feel it. I feel it!” Your finger traces a line up and down the slit between your folds—it’s still small and tight, but even your laughter causes the head to bob in and out of sight. “Hi, baby,” you coo, then look up at me and suddenly you’re overcome with emotion. “We’re about to be- parents,” you manage, biting back a happy sob.

I smile down at you, wiping away a stray tear and cupping your cheek tenderly before moving my hand down to the crest of your stomach. Another contraction starts but you’re still processing your feelings so I give the thigh you have tucked around my shoulder a little squeeze. “Don’t cry now, love, you’d only just got your breathing under control!”

You laugh, but I’m right— your body is demanding that you push and you’ve got to actually get the baby out before we can officially celebrate. You’re reminded of just how much work there is left to do when your next few pushes do little to reveal any more of the head. With my help, your knee is pulled back almost to your shoulder opening you up wide, you have one arm wrapped around the perimeter of your belly as I keep my palm pressed against your opening. The mound presses out and

recedes in time with your efforts, refusing to retain any progress despite giving everything you have to the pushes.

“You’re doing amazing,” I assure you, and you scoff in disagreement. “You are! You’re stretching, opening up nicely for our baby.”

You might have mumbled something about our baby inheriting an unnecessarily big head from me, but the truth is the baby is just big all over—at our last appointment, they estimated 9lbs+ if you made it to your due date… which is today. You groan and make another attempt at the seemingly impossible task, it always feels like you’re making progress until you stop pushing and it all disappears back into your tight folds.

You rest your leg back down at my side and reach your arms up to me. “I need to move again,” you decide. I pull you up to a seated position and help you swing my legs over the side so you’re perched at the edge of the mattress. It’s low enough to the ground that it’s almost a squat, and I kneel down in front of your spread knees. On the next contraction you curl forward, one hand on the underside of your belly and the other squeezing my shoulder. You let out a surprised yelp as the head lurches forward quickly, but just as quickly my hand is there providing support and counterpressure, tugging gently at the edges of your taut hole. The head jerks back inside when you take a breath, but then you lean back into it, pulling one leg back while keeping the other on the ground for stability. Another quick breath and then you’re back at it, letting out a high pitched cry when you feel yourself widen another fraction of an inch as the stretch starts to burn.

“Don’t let me tear!” you beg desperately between pushes—even though you’re just starting to crown, it feels like you can’t possibly open any more, and it’s almost a relief when the head sinks back inside this time.

You don’t make much progress during the next contraction, and I can tell it’s because of your hesitant pushes— you’re afraid of the pain that’s coming. When it’s over, I coax you down into a full squat in front of me. I don’t say anything, just pepper kisses all over your face and belly as my hands escalate their ministrations between your legs that have you squirming and breathless going into the next contraction. You push again in earnest, a mix of pain and pleasure, throwing your head back in a moan that turns into a shout and something in you gives way—the head making its way past my tailbone. This time when you stop pushing, the head stays right where it is, bowing out the skin of my vagina into a wide dome, a small round cap of hair at its peak.

“That’s it, we’re seeing real progress now baby, you’re doing so well.” My voice has a more muted tone than my yelling, enthusiastic outbursts from earlier, more intended to keep you calm and concentrating on the task at hand.

My fingers trace around the bulge between your legs now, feather light you squirm under my caress.

“That… that’s not fair” you manage to gasp, concentrating on the touch and not the cramping pains that have been your ever present companion for what seemed like hours now.

“You deserve a reward for all the hard work you have done, for all three of us” I say to you, my grin can only be described as devilish. My lips meet yours and we kiss in a passionate embrace - my hand curling around your shoulder in support as you brace yourself on my knee to stop you toppling over.

As we’re kissing, you pull back and groan, yet another contraction starting once more. My free hand which was down between your legs reaches up to caress the bump, then continuing further north it meets a breast and a nipple.

The sensitive area had already been a keen play area between us over the last few weeks, your nipples getting hyper sensitive as they were getting ready to express milk for the baby. My touch caused you to shiver as you recalled a recent play session, and you arch your back involuntarily pressing your chest out to give me more access.

My fingers lightly tug and squeeze the nipple, teasing it back and forth until you expressed a few drops of colostrum.

As I did so you pushed, eyes scrunched tight, panting out loud, all of your concentration on the pleasurable touches I was giving you rather than the pain you were feeling.

The nipple stimulation had an unexpected side effect, the contraction surged unexpectedly. You almost faltered and cried out but managed to maintain your composure, growling phrases such as “come on baby, come on out, mummy and daddy want to meet you” in between panting breaths.

You scream all of a sudden “so… much… pressure!” My hand drops down to between your legs and I feel the sheer amount of the head that’s starting to poke through. Unfortunately there’s still quite a way to go until you’re crowning, but my finger slips in between your lips and the baby’s head, stretching your skin a little.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by yourself, as I press my finger in and stretch you howl out in pain.

“I’m sorry baby but I need to help you stretch. There’s a long way to go and we need to take this nice, slow and easy”

You have moisture at the corners of your eyes as you say you know, acutely aware of how much work you have done, and beginning to realise just how much you still have to do.

“I’m with you” I blurt out, trying to get you back to a good place, your forehead slumping forward and meeting mine, as you pant, the contraction finally passing, my eyes look down between your legs and see the head sitting there, testament to the work you have done so far.

Some of the tension leaves you as you feel the skin stretch further - it’s still heavy and tight, but at least it doesn’t feel on the verge of causing damage anymore—and you sink forward into my embrace. You reach your hand down to feel what I’d just felt, barely recognising your own body. Your lips are hot, puffy and flared out monstrously wide so that they press out against your thighs. Your opening is kept taut and open in a perfectly round “O” and the skin feels so tightly moulded around the baby’s head even as its exit refuses to give way. You know women do this every day… but it just doesn’t seem physically possible in this moment.

“I need to stretch.” You’re telling yourself as much as me, but I nod anyway. “I need to relax long enough to let myself stretch.” You look at me almost pleadingly, and I know what you’re asking.

There’s little danger now of losing sight of the modest crown, so I lift you out of your squat and back up onto the mattress. You’re careful to keep your legs wide, knees falling open to the side as you lay fully on your back. I join you as soon as you’re situated, fitting myself between your hips, propping myself up on one side and hovering over your torso. We share a laugh as we try to find our balance, but soon you’re wincing with the start of another contraction.

“Breathe, baby,” I say gently, my free hand moving between your legs to continue its agonizing work. “Just breathe for now. Your body will do the work for you.”

“And you,” you manage before gritting your teeth and clutching at the pillows shoved in various supportive positions around you. I somehow manage to both stretch your hole and pleasure you at the same time, my thumb and index finger seemingly at odds in their objectives. You can’t help but push a little at the tail end and the burning is more bearable this time.

Between contractions you buck up your hips so both of my hands can work toward opening you up, a mix of massaging and stretching and teasing that has you pulling me on top of you. I kiss you deeply before my mouth moves down your neck and chest, settling over one of your darkened nipples as my tongue playfully flicks and envelops the sensitive tip. You’re so caught up in the sensations that the next contraction—made so much stronger so much faster by the stimulation—takes you completely by surprise and you scream, pulling hastily back on your legs and riding your body’s instinct to push.

“Easy now,” I caution you, pushing back against the growing dome between your legs and carefully supporting the suddenly overly stretched skin. “Breathe.”

“I can’t!” you yell, throwing your head back for a quick inhale before curling forward again.

“Then pant, pant! Hoo-hoo-hoo. Like you’re blowing out a birthday candle.”

You try to emulate releasing quick puffs of air but it turns into one long groan that escalates back into a howl as the pressure of the baby’s head combines with my tugging fingers. You have to press your hands into your trembling knees just to try and keep them open. Another push and you see me looking down between your legs, seeing what seems like the whole outline of the huge head pressing out against my skin still trapped behind my relatively small hole. You collapse backward in defeat.

“It’s too big,” you whine as the contraction begins to fade. You’re sure a lot of women feel that way and it turns out fine, but damn does it feel true right now. I look a little concerned, so you pull yourself up, repositioning so that ypu’re on your knees facing me. You take one of your hands and put it back between my legs and position the other over your breast. With a deep breath in then out again, you announce “Guess we better get to work.”

“Next time you need to push, just make ‘mmm’ sounds OK?”

You look skeptical but nod anyway, and soon you start. You pitch rises, and I tell you to keep it slow and steady, focus on the breathing rather than the pushing.

You nod, as my hands do their work. My hand that’s dipped down between your legs is rubbing and softening the skin between them, pressing back against the hard bulge of the head just agonisingly close.

Your head is tucked into my shoulder, one hand steadying yourself against me, the other rubbing slow circles on your breast and nipple knowing how well that was helping before.

A full minute of that contraction passes and I feel some useful movement between your legs.

“Go and do that again” I say as another one picks up. I can see it’s taking all your concentration not to push hard, your hand that is resting on me shaking and passing the vibrations through to me.

“Think you have another one in you?” I ask as that contraction passes, your response practically begs me “Fuck… no, I need to push”

There’s nothing you can do this time as the contraction begins to build, you reach to grab the hand that was playing with your nipple earlier and press it into the mattress with the force of your push.

My hand cupped under you feels success though, your skin seems to peel apart as the head makes its way out of you, the skin rolling back over the head as more and more of it made its way out from inside of you.

“Back at it, quick!” I say as the push ends, and you do so, more of the head seeing fresh air. My hand pressed against your lips slowly moulds the skin back.

You finally relent, the contraction over with, the head now well on its way to a crown. You look into my eyes and can see I almost have tears forming. “You did it babe, you got over this. Might have a full crown in the next contraction.”

You know in your heart you felt everything but need to feel down between your legs to know it was real. You hand scrabbles down and you trace the outline of your opened lips, smiling, clearly approaching exhaustion now.

No time to rest though as another contraction builds.

Your whole hand can fit over the large dome coming out between your legs now—the skin of your vagina stretched in a vertical mountain over the straining head. It sits heavily right at your opening, a slow burn ready to flame to life at the next push. You keep your hand there as the contraction begins to build, feeling how your body squeezes and compresses even before you add any conscious force. You let out a long, slow breath, waiting until the tension grows and intensifies and you absolutely cannot refrain from bearing down with it.

You groan as you finally give into the primal urge, tilting your hips forward and back in time with your pushes, keeping hold of the delicate ring of flesh, alternating between easing it back and releasing it millimeter by millimeter, push after push until a proper crown begins to form.

My hands rub a circular route from my belly to around the curve of your ass, up your thighs, then back again. Suddenly you hold completely still and I follow suit, my hands poised in front of you for whatever you may need. “Mmm,” You moan, the hum echoing through your whole body as you lean forward with your hands pressed into my thighs as you push down, hard. It burns and you let out a strangled whine, but keep pushing. You take a breath and shuffle your knees open wider and push some more. I’m saying something sweet and encouraging, but you’re too focused to really hear it.

“Come on, baby,” you plead again, slumping forward against me as the contraction ends. “Mummy needs you to work with me here.” I tell you to take your time, that there’s no rush, but that’s easy to say when you don’t have a cantaloupe forcing itself out of your body.

“Maybe next one,” I suggest, trying to keep my spirits up.

“Next one,” you agree. It certainly needs to come soon, you’re feeling weary and exhausted with the effort.

Your knees start to hurt again so I help you unfold your legs so that we’re sitting face to face, your spread legs on the outside of mine with me situated in between. I grab a towel and twist it up into a rope, holding one end while offering you to hold the other. “Lean back,” I tell you when the next contraction starts.

“Holy fuck!” you cry, pulling against the towel as your focused on a powerful push and finally feel the head give some more. Your knees instinctually rise so they’re on either side of your belly, and I have a wonderful view of everything that’s happening. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, it’s burning, it’s- babe, fuck!” you’re muttering explicit nonsense in between howls and wails as the intense searing stretch goes beyond whatever you thought possible. Nearly letting go of the towel and the push you suddenly hear me yelling out in my own exhuberant shout.

“It’s crowning!”

Your head snaps up at me, your expression a wonderful mix of joy, wonder, pain, fatigue and probably a dozen other emotions. Your eyes are wide and your mouth lets out a sudden yell - but it doesn’t sound pained as such, more victorious.

As the head reaches its peak, all the burning, searing pain you had been feeling finally relented, your nerves in your skin stretched to their limit and no longer functioning.

Time seemed to stop for you, your brain going a million miles a minute until your focus is back on me yelling at you

“Stop pushing, you’re at your widest, pant it out, please, you didn’t want to tear!”

You follow without thinking, letting out your breath in a slow, slow exhale. It seemed to take forever in that moment of slowed time between us, but suddenly there was a sound that could only be described as a ‘thwack’ as your tightly stretched vagina lips slid back at speed over the baby’s head.

The next moment seemed to take just as long to resolve in my mind.

Firstly jets of amniotic fluid came gushing out from around the head, shooting all the way across to me and coating my chest.

My view was suddenly focused on the back of a head lodged between your legs, said head being slightly cone shaped following its tight passage.

Pools of fluid were still draining out between your legs.

Miraculously you respond first. “Check for a cord” you manage in a croaky voice.

I nod and let go of the towel which you gather up and put to the side of you.

My hands reach down to the baby’s neck and slide down to the gap between it and your lips. I feel nothing caught.

“You’re good, let’s see, I think the head needs to turn now for the shoulders”

I now have a hand under the baby’s head supporting it as I feel you bounce left and right on your ass cheeks as if you’re shifting your weight to either side, the head rotates sideways and I finally get a good glance of the baby’s face.

I look up and once got tears in my eyes as I say to you “baby looks beautiful love.”

You wish you could see it for yourself too, but seeing the love shine through my eyes at our baby’s face is enough for now. You reach down and it’s still surprising that the whole head is outside of your body, that you can trace the outlines of it’s ears, nose, lips and chubby little cheeks. Your eyes well up to match me and I give your belly one last peck before it’s empty again. There’s nothing quite like this feeling, the power and strength of accomplishing such a feat at direct odds with the

softness and vulnerability that comes with being able to really see and touch your child for the first time.

The relief from delivering the head is short-lived as another contraction reminds me that your work is not yet done. The pressure in your stomach is slightly lessened with the release of so much amniotic fluid, but somehow seems to increase in your hips— seems this baby’s got broad shoulders too. You start panting and grip tightly to my forearm, not quite ready to give everything you have into another push just yet. You ride it out, giving low groans through the contraction until the insistent pressure returns and you feel the shoulders nudging at your opening.

“Are you ready?” I ask, alerted to the change in situation by your grip tightening on my arms.

The answer is an easy, “Yes.”

You move your hands to my shoulders to steady yourself and lean into the push. It’s harder than you thought it’d be for your already stretched skin to give way and as a result you let out a determined growl, then release your breath and dive back into another push. I assist with a little tug and that’s all it takes for the shoulders to pop over your tailbone and fill my opening all at once. You scream at the sudden burning stretch, but it only lasts a moment before the rest of the baby slides out quickly and easily on a river of amniotic fluid.

Your senses and emotions are immediately overwhelmed as this little red squalling beautiful thing is placed on your chest. You’re crying and shaking as you cradle it gingerly—it seems so small and vulnerable, and yet those little fists and feet are kicking out angrily at the uncomfortable eviction into this cold, loud, bright world.

“Hi, baby,” you coo wetly, gently patting its back and reaching for me to join us in the moment. I wrap us up in sun-warmed towels and kneel at your side, laughing through tears and peppering kisses all over your face and our baby’s head. You’re so caught up in the moment—the relief and awe and exhaustion and elation—that there’s one thing you missed. You shift the baby’s body a bit and peek under the towel, and the tears renew afresh. “A little boy!” You look back up at me in surprised joy, but I just chuckle—of course I’d already realised that as I lifted the baby up to your chest. “We have a son.” The realization settles over you as comfortably as me arms around your waist, and you have a feeling we’re both thinking the same thing.

We can’t wait to do this again.

After the brief moment of relief and satisfaction washed over us, I realised we had better call the midwife to make sure everything checked out right with the baby. I pulled out her phone and dialled her number to hear it go off just behind us in the house.

She walked out from the cabin we had rented with a broad smile on her face. I suddenly realised I’d handed her a spare key in case she needed to get in quickly and I couldn’t get away from you.

“You guys did really well. I figured things were hotting up when I heard the screams and moans from outside of my place… had to intervene with some hikers who were heading your way wondering what the commotion was all about. Here…”

She handed us both drinks, as I suddenly realised exactly how late it was. I mentally counted up - I’d been awake 6 hours with you, and no idea about how long you had been up during the night.

You handed off the baby to the midwife who clamped and cut the cord, and handed over the cup as you drank thirstily - all that heavy breathing and yelling had left you parched.

“So… I went to double check because I certainly wasn’t expecting you to be doing this out in the open where any old Tom, Dick or Harry could walk past…”

You grinned, feeling your strength return as you drank the liquid.

“It felt natural to do it in nature” you just said.

“Well… baby gets a good clean bill of health, and I dare say mum has come out all but unscathed too. Well done to both of you”

Another hour or so of paperwork, plenty more postnatal checks, and a complete placenta delivery later, we were laid in bed in the cabin, our small family of three, contemplating what we were going to do for the next week in our cabin.

#fpreg #birth kink #labor kink #birth

[brw]

[id; a banner of wanda maximoff from marvel comics surrounded by various avengers. they are all out of focus aside from wanda. she wears her classic costume & casts small wisps of magic with one hand, wearing a forlorn expression. in white font with a hard red shadow reads "comic scarlet witch week" with decorative white spirals. underneath in smaller, plainer text reads "aug 1st - aug 7th". artist is peter v nguyen. end id.]

Hello! I'm happy to announce I'm running #comicscarletwitchweek again, like last year from August 1st to August 7th. Unlike last year, the themes for every day are more loose, with very simple words for people to put any meaning they wish to. I will leave suggestions for what each day could represent, but these are only suggestions for anyone who might need a little inspiration or guide.

As always, this week is centered on Wanda's comic book appearances. MCU & MCU adjacent content is not what we're looking for & won't be reblogged. There is no expectation to participate in every day, this is merely a week to share your love for Wanda's comic book appearances!

Please tag your posts with #comicscarletwitchweek or #comicscarletwitchweek2023. You can also use my personal tracking tag #userbrieuc. If anything is missed, you can submit it or send an ask or a DM to let me know!

Like last year, all types of content are accepted, and you can make as many submissions as you like! What we don't accept is content depicting the MCU version of Wanda, & any content that is incestuous or pedophilic in nature. Content includes;

Fanfiction

Fanart

Graphics (edits, icons, headers etc)

Gifs

Playlists

Meta posts / headcanons

Cosplay

Fancams / AMVs

Anything else you can think of, this list is non conclusive!

Themes for each day under the cut.

Day 1, 1st of August, Tuesday - Solo

definition; done by one person alone; unaccompanied. You can take solo to refer to one of her solo comics, wherever that be her 4 issue limited from 1994, James Robinson's 2015 series, or Steve Orlando's upcoming series. You could also take it to refer to Wanda by herself, to reflect on who she is divorced from her other connections. Maybe you want to write about her delivering a sick guitar solo in a band au!

Day 2, 2nd of August, Wednesday - Identity

definition; the fact of being who or what a person or thing is. Wanda has many idenities accumilated over the year; sister, wife, mother, teacher, and many more. This day offers an opportunity to explore one or more of her identities in whatever way you want to or to focus on one particular aspect of her. Wherever you want to focus on Wanda's identity with motherhood, the way her identity with herself has changed & evolved over the years, or a headcanon for her being queer, all are welcomed & accepted!

Day 3, 3rd of August, Thursday - Fairytale

definition; a short story that belongs to the folklore genre. This could entail Wanda reading a bedtime story to her children, Wanda reimagined in a fairy-tale based alternate universe, expanding on the Wanda's depicted in the Marvel: Fairy Tales series, Wanda dealing with some fictional creature from folklore or something else.

Day 4, 4th of August, Friday - Teamwork

definition; the collaborative effort of a group to achieve a common goal or to complete a task. This could be interpreted as making something for Wanda & your preferred team with her, or Wanda teaming up with another character, etc.

Day 5, 5th of August, Saturday - Family

definition; a group of persons united by the ties of marriage, blood, or adoption. Wanda has grown an expansive family over the years, thanks in part to many retcons. Here, you can focus on her relationship with her brother, or the family she finds in the Avengers, or the family she & Vision build in Vision & the Scarlet Witch, or her various revolving door of parents.

Day 6, 6th of August, Sunday - Power

definition; ability to do or act; capability of doing or accomplishing something. This could apply to Wanda's physical powers & how those have changed over the years, her status as a Nexus Being, or the ways in which characters like Chthon have attempted to rob Wanda of her power & how she's grown for that, or an idea for an interesting application of her powers.

Day 7, 7th of August, Monday - Free Day

Do anything you want! Expand on a day, do something AU based, do a roleswap, just use it to do something general / nonthemed, anything goes!

Please remember these are only suggestions, & do not have to be followed at all! You can make these themes as limiting or as broad as you want.

#comicscarletwitchweek #comicscarletwitchweek2023 #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda django maximoff #616 scarlet witch #comicedit #marvel #comics #thank u to people who helped me choose themes & gave me feedback last year! #please rb if you may consider participating or have followers who may consider participating!!!

[jade-of-mourning]

hiii so uh I just found ur account but I see you post a decent amount of mako stuff,,,

are you planning on putting any of that on ao3 (finished fics or blurb ideas turned into fics) or is it solely tumblr? and would you possibly mind some short stuff based on some of your posts? idk he’s js my newest hyperfixation and your acc is so coolll :3

-🐌

HI ANON!!!! mako has been in my brain so much for the past few months; i just restrain myself from posting seven times a day and instead, i aggressively brainrot in my discord server with a single person in it. (it's me — i'm the single person)

i've been juggling a couple fics for ao3 on him lately (account, mostly atla writing), though tragically i've been at a bit of a writing block. it's probably from overthinking story structures, but trust that i'll get at least a couple of them out eventually haha. the main one is a post-canon fic called rose beds and gasoline veins at 11.9k as of now, followed by a silly 10-chapter 14-year-old-avatar!mako au called snowglobes don't shake on their own which i've spent some time casually outlining (featuring jinora and asami!). there's a post i spontaneously conjured up that would roughly act as half of the first chapter. i'll post the summary if you're curious lol

i've also got a couple random/short oneshots that i spontaneously wrote and completed, before promptly forgetting that i can post them, so… maybe i'll do that soon. one of them is a slightly different take on mako & bolin's family in ba sing se, on some of their cultural differences and traumas through hot pot (which i might expand into a longer oneshot on ao3 after i finish rose beds). the other one was initially a joke about him (who i like to hc as aro lol) accidentally being a really big fan of sex. it's very vague but it turned out kind of angsty in exploring how mako deliberately gives up control in an attempt to frame himself as his mother rather than the man who killed her (coping fr); it's not really up my usual alley, but i might post it somewhere sometime idk. i didn't ever really flesh it out in my head but i have some inklings for a mako & kai oneshot on forgiving yourself as a kid, a mako & lin beifong oneshot on his recruitment featuring better characterization than that spontaneous shitpost i made, and a half-written expansion of jobs in an actually comprehensible story-ish format focused more on pre-canon backstory of him and bolin. also, last night i kind of accidentally started an essay arguing the case of reading mako as "this is a male female character somehow", but that's a whole other brainrot. my friends think i'm insane for wanting to write an essay for fun :P

thank you so much for stopping by!!! i love to hear that people love this random fictional character too — it makes me really happy especially considering how many people do not love him haha. literally anyone please send me asks about writing or headcanons or brain thoughts and enable me to talk about mako because i can actually talk about mako so much.

and for the record, sorry for responding with so many words oops. i have a lot of thoughts.

^^ summary for the avatar!mako au that i might never finish but i think it's a really funny mix of crack and seriousness that i would love to write. maybe after i finish my marimba solo!

#lychee acquires and answers asks #lychee's word trash

[cicadaclan]

oh im also curious abt what relationship Firestar has thru the story that interests u the most to think abt and examine..

this might be an obvious answer, but. fire and redtail,

we dont get introduced to redtail in the canon story proper bc he dies before it even begins; however, firestar does meet redtail in a sense, through his leader ceremony. redtail gives firestar a life for justice, which becomes a central point in my au,

firestar has some mother figures already but father figures for him arent something brought up as much, and so that's majority of the lens that i've been viewing the two of them through. redtail catches interest very quickly bc rusty, as a kittypet, mentions that he has dreams about the forest. with the prophecy floating around in his and bluestars minds, rusty is accepted into the clan, though this isnt universal.

there's a lot of different expansions on how fire understands clan life through the other cats, and better sees how to treat the other cats and do right by them while also upholding justice through his mentorship to several others. namely redtail, who imparts a lot of his own learning through mistake on fire, in hopes that he does better than red did,

redtail, in his canon, is saved by tigerclaw from a hawk, and from then on, tigerclaw expects him to be loyal to him first over anyone else, including thunderclan. he is grateful, but he learns overtime that tigerclaw is inherently dishonest, and even manipulative when he twists the truth into making sunstar believe that windclan trespassed and tried to steal prey. he even used redtails presence to further his lie, something he was too stunned and wanting to believe in tigerclaws competence as a warrior to fight on. he even was supposed to work together w a windclan warrior who saw the injustice in the situation and prevent a battle, but ... it ended up happening, anyways. this is shadowed by firehearts later success in preventing a battle between thunder and windclan later on,

fire learning more from his clanmates isnt something that was strongly touched upon in the books, and maybe some of that could be attributed to the first arc being shorter, but i liked the thought of fireheart not only bringing his own values and ideas to the clans, but expanding more on how he learned more about them as he grew up in thunderclan. i focus particularly on his relationship w redtail for this,

#au canon wc #justice thoughts #grips them both like chew toys #father and son<3 #my thoughts #long post

[saltpepperbeard]

Okay y’all let’s just...I see some nasty accusations being thrown around in just a small little bit of perusing. And I just wanted to offer my further two cents on this entire situation, as well as open up a respectful and open discussion should people choose. I’m going to be addressing a few points I keep seeing, especially those that are seemingly getting lost in translation.

First of all, let’s talk headcanons/canon. Fandom space is indeed a place of meta, and textual analysis, and everything of the like. But also, it’s for expanding upon those views, and even shifting those views around for self-enjoyment/play. It’s meant to be a place where people can take their favorite characters/stories and place them into an entirety of different scenarios/

Which is where things like headcanons and AU come into play. Some people may choose to see Katniss as Native American. Some people may choose to see Peeta with a brother named Rye. Some people may choose to have Katniss and Peeta have four-five babies as opposed to the textually stated two. 

Some things grow more popular and are excepted as a sort of “collective headcanon,” or fanon, while others stay pretty centric to a few people. Where problems start to arise however, is when people challenge another’s headcanon based upon their own beliefs. Which is, unfortunately, what I seem to be seeing a lot of. In case you’re unaware, an author decided to portray/picture Peeta as bisexual, and was met with a multitude of backlash because of it.

But why? Did Suzanne Collins ever directly state “Peeta Mellark, a boy of sixteen, a baker, and a heterosexual.” And even if she did, doesn’t fandom allow for expansion beyond that? If people are allowed to name Peeta and Katniss’ children and have it be widely accepted, as well as play around with their backgrounds, their family, their personalities/likes/dislikes, why not sexuality?

Now, a point I’ve seen repeatedly brought up is along the lines of, “Well, this author claims that if you don’t like bisexual Peeta then you must be bi/homophobic.” And similar claims along the lines of, “This author is forcing us to think that way.” And like...y’all I don’t think that’s the case whatsoever? I of course don’t want to put words in anyone’s mouth, but I’m reading the situation very differently. I believe the point being made is more along the lines of...if you have an issue with a character being portrayed as bisexual/homosexual/pansexual/anything else other than heterosexual, then you might need to look at yourself a bit more. It’s more so in defense of character representation than it is indoctrination. And it’s more so arguing in defense of headcanons/interpretations being a genuine fandom element than it is shaming those who disagree.

Because, as a gay woman, it’s very disheartening to see a headcanon regarding sexuality get attacked so harshly. And you know what? I personally don’t envision Peeta or Katniss with any sort of label period, because I predominantly focus on their relationship/their dynamic. But that’s not to say others can’t see them differently, and create something that’s important to them. I for one think it’s interesting- and important, to see so many different headcanons/interpretations around.

And I may not agree with all of them, which I don’t, but that’s fine! It’s just like fanfiction, and the lovely notion of: don’t like don’t read. Allow people their space, allow people their interpretations, allow people the representation they’d like to see, and continue the fandom space as it should be. Aka, a place of free-flowing, collective, and respectful ideas.

#Jodi rambles #*WRITES AN ESSAY #**GETS TIRED SJDLSHDLK #you know i had to do it to 'em #I see drama and I WRITE LMAO #I SPIN TALES #LGBT #Like y'all #I'm so tired Katniss #Like hi hello I see Johanna as a lesbian #And am actually leaning towards picturing Katniss as bi or pan or demi #And Peeta being bi/pan/whatever doesn't bother me whatsoever #Like jsdklsjdls as long as it's not OFFENSIVE? I think people interpreting characters however they see fit is??? FINE ACTUALLY????? #'BUT SUZANNE MADE THEM STRAIGHT >:(' Did she though? #Did she name Willow and Rye while we're at it? #Did she say Katniss and Peeta messed around like rabbits Post Mockingjay? #Did she name Peeta's brother Rye? #Did she specify Katniss and Peeta's middle names? #Did she reveal Peeta's birthday? #See what I'm getting at here? #There are SO many things that the fandom has interpreted #And so many things that we've envisioned #So why should it stop at sexuality? #Do y'all see why that kind of hurts people/makes them defensive? #Do y'all see why that makes people feel as though people are being biphobic/homophobic? #Because to my knowledge #You don't see people getting mad about someone naming a toastbaby 'Fyre' when a lot of people picture her as 'Willow' #And ALSO I've really not seen anyone get mad at people for portraying Peeta as unchaste before meeting Katniss so that's some tea #But I digress #The Discourse TM

[pynkhues]

Writer Asks

Tagged by @foxmagpie, @mego42 and @medievalraven

I feel like everyone’s done this now, haha, so I guess I tag anyone who hasn’t done it yet and would like to! :-)

ao3 name: flashindie

fandoms:I’ve been in a lot of fandoms, but I’m now pretty exclusively in the Good Girls fandom. I am like thiiiissss close to writing Addy x Beth Dare Me fic though, haha. 

Previously though, I’ve written fic for: IT, Bleach, Skins, Gossip Girl, Firefly, Harry Potter, Bandom and even High School Musical RPF which is simultaneously hilarious and mortifying to me now in hindsight. 

number of fics: 70 overall! I’ve orphaned a few over the years though, so the number is slightly higher, 29 of those are Good Girls fics. This number also doesn’t include individual prompt fills which are catalogued under one ‘title’ so to speak, so the number would be a lot higher, haha. 

fic I spent the most time on: Definitely The Center & Circumference fic universe as a whole.  

fic I spent the least amount of time on: Probably a couple of the shorter prompt fills or Playing House ficlets. As a complete fic though, I wrote Summer in the City in an afternoon while I was on a roadtrip. 

most hits: Hilariously, it’s one of my very old Bleach fics!

In terms of Good Girls though, it’s Like an Unsung Chorus followed very, very closely by Playing House. 

most kudos: Like an Unsung Chorus wins by a country mile, haha. 

most comment threads: Playing House

\most bookmarks: Like an Unsung Chorus (I’m noticing a trend, haha). 

highest total word count: Playing House followed really closely by Cross Your Fingers

favourite fic I wrote:

Honestly, I think it’s actually probably Cross Your Fingers? It’s not my most popular fic, but I think the people who like it really like it, which is fun. It’s actually one that I’m really proud of too because it’s sort of forced me to grow a lot of writing skills in ways that have helped me to write other things, both in fic and in my original practice. 

Like I don’t think I would’ve been able to write the rising tension of the zoo chapter of Playing House without having worked through the rising tension of Beth going to Slav’s warehouse in Cross Your Fingers, nor the richer crime plots of a lot of my newer fics without the time I put into the crime world expansion of CYF, nor the angsty, more logistical sex scenes in Drive You Mad or Show Me How to Fake It without the - - well, angsty, logistical sex scenes in Cross Your Fingers, haha.

It’s also been really fun to curl my toes in a storyworld longterm and to have the product of that be – what I hope at least – is a rounded fic that’s compelling to read.

fic I want to rewrite/expand on:

I don’t actually want to re-write it, but I think I’d write Like an Unsung Chorus differently now, which is kind of hilarious given it’s my most popular fic, haha. I’ve talked about it a lot too, but I do want to re-write the first chapter of As If They Knew and finally finish it. 

share a bit of a wip or story idea you’re working on:

Oh, gosh, haha, I have so many WIPs and story ideas. About a million for C&C, the pirate!AU, the sequel to the pornstar!AU, the dancing fic I’ve been talking about on here for weeks, a post-s3 monster fic that I’m having more and more Thoughts on, haha. I’ve got a dumb fic I’ve been working on off-and-on for a while too which involves Beth being so busy with a PTA fundraiser that she’s missed a couple of crime meetings, and so Rio shows up at the PTA fundraiser and outbids Dean for a date with Beth which goes over exactly as well as you can imagine, haha.

Otherwise, I’m kind of thinking I might jump into a few more AUs? I actually do want to write the one I joked about after 3.01 where Beth and Rio have competing stalls at a craft fair (Rio with his model planes, Beth with embroidery), and I have a really dumb idea for one where they meet through Marcus and Jane getting into a fight at school, and take their kids sides and become very antagonistic PTA nightmares who are also completely obsessed with each other, haha, but who knows when I’ll get to that.

#writing #writing meme #my fic

[siren1song]

In Which Jo Loves Content Creators

I’m in a mushy mood. This means it’s time to snipe people with my love for their work and affection for them as people. (People I don’t know that well/talk to regularly won’t be as personal as people as I’ve made good friends with! All to avoid making anyone uncomfortable <3)

I’m going to start with @sleepless-in-starbucks, because of course I’m starting with Lia. I know I’ve made a literal collaboration post with Max about how much I love them and their work, but Also how can I not mention once again how sweet and funny they are? I vowed that one day, I would rick roll them, they don’t believe I can, but I will, one day. Also they’re really good at comforting people??? And let me scream about some of my favorite fics/tropes to them. I also really enjoy talking to them about stuff I’m working. Listen. Lia is great, okay?

Speaking of @max-is-tired did you know they’re an incredibly sweet datemate who’s super considerate and easy to talk to and gosh I love them a whole lot? Not to mention their writing and ideas are phenomenal!!!! Max is so big brained!!!!! I will never stop expressing my love for them ever.

Oh, oh, oh!!!! @thechildoflightning is also really super sweet!! I became a huge fan of their writing through their daemon prinxiety au!! And my love of their work just kept expanding as I read the jksf verse they’ve worked so hard on! Their research is expansive!! And did you know they’re really cute when they info dump? I asked them to tell me about the bird facts the other day because I wanted to hear their info dumping and it was really cool information!!! I learned a lot about a really cool bird!!

(This is going to get long... time for a cut!)

Another segue! You know who else I’ve learned a lot from? @lilfellasblog who is so cool? And kind???? And smart? Sometimes, I’ll ask them questions in a joking way and then I’ll end up learning something and wow! That’s so cool! And they don’t mind simplifying things for me when I ask! And their fic, Healing Broken Wings? An actual masterpiece, though if you check it out I recommend reading tags thoroughly. And if you have questions about a tag, ask them! They’re so willing to elaborate to make sure you’re able to stay safe!!! They care more about your safety than your readership!!!!! And that’s so awesome! I love Lil so much! A great friend and an amazing writer!

A friend I don’t really talk to nearly as much as the others but who I still care about a whole lot is @illogicallyinclined. They say they can’t write, but bullet fics are a Valid Form of Writing, and also their art? Stunning? They’re the reason I started appreciating Logan a whole lot more than I used to, and their hockey au  is really good (and Jam Packed with Logan Angst if you’re into that.) They’re also hilarious to talk to. I have chatted about Virgil and Logan being huge ass meme’s with them on multiple occasions.

Someone I’ve only recently started talking to is @sign-from-god-complex who’s actually really cool? I was talking to him about my love for fandom content creators before I decided to make this post and of course I had to include him? I’m literally going to be bingeing his writing as soon as I finish this Love and Appreciation post because it’s amazing! I can’t believe I haven’t read more of his work before! A travesty, honestly!!! And oh my God his music is good? Literally the whole reason I joined his server and started talking to Lo in the first place was because he was really nice when I asked him how downloading music worked because I’ve only ever done that onto an MP3 (I know, I’m old) and even then I had to have help because I’m not adept with technology. A great singer and writer!

Now for people I’ve never talked to personally but really want to show my appreciation for... Goodness, there’s so many?

I’m gonna start this section with @princeanxious who’s writing, art, and ideas in general are amazing? Have you seen his coma au? Heart wrenching. His Lost Guardian au? Beautiful world building! His punk lo/pastel dee au? Adorable oh my goodness I can’t get enough!! I tried to talk to him once, but I kind of got scared I was bothering him, but he seems really nice!!!!

Did I mention soulmate au’s earlier? I did. You know who writes really cool and great soulmate aus? @not-so-innocent-bi-sander and MAN is their writing great! Have you read their vampire soulmate au? That was so cute??? I loved Logan’s internal conflict with changing Patton and Roman, gosh? And they have such interesting au ideas too? Like I have actually never heard the concept of Lockets before, and it was such a fascinating idea for a soulmate au? I mean, obviously they have other fics that aren’t soulmate aus, like their prinxiety fic Overcoming a Legacy? Stunning, I am pretty sure I stayed up really late reading that one.

Speaking of fics that made me stay up late (so many segue’s) @impatentpending ‘s fic Powerless had me up from 5:30 pm when I started reading it to 2:30 am when Max finally woke up and distracted me long enough to make me shower and go to bed cause I had work in the morning. Do I regret it? No. Powerless is a stunning fic with an amazing concept. I can’t tell you how excited I was to read a fic where Virgil willingly took on a villain role to protect his loved ones. And also I’m going to physically fight Missy, she can catch these hands. I can’t really give much else on the rest of her fics, because I tend to avoid anything that might not end happy (I’m five chapters away from finishing Powerless, and I’m only just now getting skeptical they might not get their happy ending so count me scared) but I have no doubt everything she’s written is just as good, if not better since this fic was finished in 2018? Wow.

Another fic that had me up super late was @lovelylogans gilmore girls au where you lead, i will follow. Don’t be fooled by the eleven chapters, that fic is over 100k words but God is it so worth it to read every single one. You don’t even need to be familiar with the show the au is based on, it’s amazing either way. The characters, the plot, the romance, all absolutely stunning. I will personally fight Patton’s mom. And the rest of her fics! Wow!!! Stunning, amazing, wonderful, beautiful, I’m running out of adjectives. I loved their princess bride bullet fic a whole lot, that was fun.

If you ever see me gushing about mermaid aus, please know that @voidsides au is Probably my favorite take on it. The prinxiety! The sassy virgil!!! The Logan being so done with Roman’s shit. Literally the one comic with Logan interaction I could practically see “Roman I swear to god if you don’t stop flirting with the fish I’m going to push you into the water” in his words. He didn’t say it, but man he was definitely thinking it.

Oh man, I can’t forget to mention the person who got me into g/t-slash-borrower sides @infinimay cause his content? Amazing, really. I found him when someone I follow reblogged one of his halloween fics and I fell in love and proceeded to binge the rest of their writing. Amazing, really. I really love the giant hermit virgil and hiker logan ones a lot. There’s more that I definitely love a whole lot as well, but I can’t currently match content with titles right now and if I go through I’ll get caught up and forget to come back to this post, but just know I love

Another giant/tiny writer I really love who I fell in love because of his amazingly written alien au- @delimeful WIBAR is currently one of my fic obsessions and I might reread it soon because it’s so good? I love the world building and how he’s written the characters so much. The rest of his work is Also Great? The fic where Virgil turns into a dragon when stressed? Amazing I can’t wait for it to continue.

@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors You got me so in love with laoft I think about it often. Scary Virgil?? Changeling Logan???? Witch Roman???? Gifted Patton????? I want to cry I love them so much. And God, May! May Gage is a disaster of a woman but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love her. I just. I love this au so much and it’s gotten me to love fae lore so much like I used to. I want to reread this au now, crap. Wait I need to read Lo’s stuff first. Double crap.

Oh man. speaking of writer’s who keep bringing up fae and reminding me how much I love them, @lefaystrent I hope you know your parental shenanigans on my dash bring me life. I didn’t know carbonated milk existed until last night. Kind of wish I was still ignorant on that particular topic. Either way, your fae virgil fic? Amazing. I got so super excited every time I saw an update, and that epilogue? A beautiful ending, if you ask me.

@stillebesat I start screaming in excitement, reading your Interview fic. When I found it, I became so in love with the fic I had a really hard time reading anything else and I frequently checked your blog looking for an update. I am so in love with it, and honestly there’s lots of questions I have about it but if I ask all of them this post will be even LONGER and it’s so massive already.

@today-only-happens-once You’re writing is amazing. So many of your fics are so stunning?? I fell in love reading The Only Exception. Still need to go through your masterlist thoroughly, but man everything I’ve read from you so far is so well written and takes my entire heart.

This post wouldn’t be complete without @notalwaysthevillian who actually got me to start shipping Logince with her fic Shattering Stereotypes. And then there’s of course her tangled prinxiety au??? Which I actually really gotta finish but what I’ve read of it? Amazing. 

Oh crap. If void has my favorite artistic mermaid au, @teacupfulofstarshine has my favorite written au. LDAD is a stunning fic and I would die for it. And also her recent atla au fic? I was screaming over it. Also also her moxiety dad au series she did for halloween had my entire heart. Every installment of that series had me so incredibly soft I probably could have cried.

And finally, @randomslasher I really love your writing. Your fic, Starved was one of the first I read in the fandom and I adored every single word. I haven’t actually had the chance to really sit down and binge any of your work that I could find, but I plan on fixing that soon. It’s also?? Really nice to see an older fander! As someone in their twenties and constantly seeing how young everyone is, it’s comforting knowing I’m not the only one!

That’s everyone I wasn’t scared of bothering! Everyone who I wanted to shower in my love for their work (and affection for the people I talk to!) This isn’t really in any particular order, beyond me separating the people I talk to from the people I don’t. This post is massive, but I hope everyone enjoys my appreciation for their content!

#jo speaks #jo really loves content creators #long post #i cannot possibly tag everyone here #and i definitely linked fics where i could because obviously ppl reading this post need to read my faves #i had so many tabs open trying to make sure i had pronouns right for everyone #i really hope i dont suddenly remember someone later oh jeez

[heroesofhyrule]

Okay since seeing the trailer for the new Zelda game, I’ve been really wanting to read some more really good BOTW fanfic. Do you have any suggestions where they have some length to them? Also fics where link and Zelda are raising a family??

Truth be told, I haven’t read many BotW fics, if any, but I’ll compile some here after some searching! There are quite a few here that seem interesting to me or had plenty of kudos.

Please check all of the tags and heed the warnings before starting a fic! 

Super long fics (wc: 200k+)

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild 

T | Novelization | Slow Burn | wc: 473k | Complete

“But courage need not be remembered… for it is never forgotten.”Though struggling with both the loss of memory and the incredible weight of past failure, Link must find a way to recover what has been lost and bring hope back to the land of Hyrule.An epic fantasy-style novelization of Breath of the Wild.Complete, with afterword and deleted scenes!

Champions and Beasts

T | Series | 2 works | Slow Burn | Post-canon | wc: 311k | complete

Hyrule is a strange place, is it not? It has no history, only legends. It has no true heroes, only colossi who have wielded its fate in their hands. The Champions, and the Beasts; the wise, the strong, and the brave. And yet, we are always either recovering from war or preparing for it. How much longer can we endure, I wonder? How much longer can we step through this dance?

In a world this vast, being a hero isn’t always easy.

Champions and Beasts is a Breath of the Wild series that takes a darker and more political look at the world of Hyrule, both before and after the Calamity. Legends are long past, history is mostly lost, the wilds are dangerous but perhaps not as dangerous as the ambitions of its inhabitants; and with Calamity either just over the horizon or still a lingering nightmare, the Hyruleans must fight to attain peace.

This work is centered around Link and Zelda, and their evolving relationship both before and after the Calamity.

Currently there are only two Parts planned (From the Ground Up and The Ballad’s Beginning) but I am considering a third installment!

One Last Year

T | Post-canon | wc: 215k | Complete

Zelda vows to help Link remember the events that lead them to their hard-won victory. In doing so, they must delve together into a shared past and seek to untangle their feelings, their grief and their youthful frustrations to find the things they could control… and the things they couldn’t.

“I don’t know how to remember. Time passes, but nothing comes to my mind… Except you. You’re the key,” Link said, softly. “You have to be.”

A Breath of the Wild fic about Link, Zelda, and the memories that bind them.

Ironic Technology

Rating varies | Series | Contains both gen/romance | Canon/Post-canon | wc: 242k | Complete

Ironic Technology is a series where Link loses an arm after a tricky situation with two Guardians, luckily, he is able to receive a prosthesis made of Ancient Technology from his Sheikah allies. He continues on to complete all of the Shrines, meeting his friends from the four nations along the way, before he’s finally ready to take on Ganon with his tech upgrade. Moves into slice of life events with Link and Zelda living together working through their issues with each others support. Very little angst, mostly positive fluff and humour with Zelink throughout.

(A/N Originally I wasn’t going to have DLC2 content but it was a good ancient tech expansion, so expect that in ‘Trial and Error’ which will be rated ’M’ folks!)

The Destiny Collection

T | Series | Slow burn | Pre/Post-canon | wc: 225k | Complete

A collection for the little BotW universe I’ve created.

Not all stories directly follow one another! At least one spin-off is to be expected.

Long Fics (wc: 100k-200k)

Adrift in Time and Skyward Bound

E | Explicit language and sexual content | wc: 132k | Last updated 11/10/18

Link is her appointed knight. He will do anything and everything to protect her. Always. All ways. BotW. ZeLink. Loosely based on the original storyline.

Love in a Time of Calamity

M | Slow burn | Canon divergence | Post-canon | wc: 125k | Last updated 03/04/19

Zelda awakens her powers in time to defeat Ganon, but there are still major losses. With Central Hyrule in pieces, two champions dead, a king out of commission, and half a metropolitan city turned refugees, Zelda and Link struggle to come to grips with the aftermath of the Calamity. Though neither are prepared, they must nonetheless learn to navigate a turbulent political landscape while a snooping journalist, an overzealous artist, and a power-hungry nobleman’s machinations turn their already topsy-turvy world on its head. Though the Calamity has been defeated, recovery proves a battle all its own; and that’s not even considering the battle raging in both their hearts. BoTW ZeLink AU.

Trouble the Water

Rating varies | Series | Pre/During/Post-canon | wc: 156k | complete

Excerpt from the first entry:

An expansion of canon: a look at why the memories might have happened where and when they occurred (with one slight change in order) and an attempt to fill-in the events and conversations alluded to by diary entries and conversations in-game.“You were a comfort to her,” in particular, needed to be expanded upon, I thought.Begins shortly before the first journal entry in Zelda’s diary, and continues to the immediate aftermath of the last memory.First person: Zelda’s perspective

Still a bit long fics (wc: 50k-100k)

I’ll Walk With You

T | Post-canon | wc: 94k | Complete

‘The battle is over, the Calamity has ended, and everything you knew and loved is gone for good. And yeah, you can’t ever get it back, but… maybe we don’t have to. The path in front of us may be long and uncertain, but it leads to something new, and… Zelda, no matter how hard it gets, I’ll be right here. And I’ll walk with you.’

A collection of moments involving our favorite Hero and Princess as they struggle to adapt. Post-BotW.

It All Must Start With Us

M | Post-canon | Sexual tension/Implied sexual content | wc: 76k | last updated 09/06/19

Set immediately after BotW, this story explores Link and Zelda’s journey together to restore Hyrule. Along the way, a mysterious voice give them the task of reliving memories of a century before: some painful, but all necessary before they can fully move into the next step of their lives.

Since the DLC did not give us a post-Calamity world with Link and Zelda, I’m writing one for myself and anyone else wanting to know what might have happened after! ♪ UPDATES ON SUNDAYS!! ♪

The Golden Age

T | Slow burn | Post-canon | wc: 66k | Last updated 03/05/19

After a century of undisturbed silence, a forgotten princess emerges from the famous ruins of Hyrule Castle. Princess Zelda has returned, and an even greater task than containing Calamity Ganon arises before her; balancing a complex love life while rising her kingdom up from the ashes and restoring it to glory in an age of peace and prosperity.

Post Botw.

A Hundred Years in the Making

M | Pre-canon | Slow burn | wc: 65k | Last updated 05/20/19

The story before the story began. A hundred and one years before, to be exact.

star fragments

G | Post-canon | wc: 61k | Last updated 01/21/18

Being a princess is a life of sacrifice. After beginning their new journey to find their places and rediscover Hyrule after Calamity Ganon, Zelda begins to realize she’s missed out on several experiences her land has to offer. Fortunately for her, Link knows everything.

Rise

T | Canon compliant | Sexual tension | wc: 58k | Last updated 01/10/19

The chosen hero appears. The princess deals with it.

One way it all could have happened.

A Hylian Romance

T | Court poet | wc: 55k | Complete

As are many, I was intrigued by the Sheikah court poet and what his perspective on Link and Zelda’s relationship might be.

Fade to Black

E | Series | Pre-canon | wc: 55k | Complete

A collection of smutty “what could have happened after the memory faded” ficlets each tagged to a different BoTW memory. Every story contains varying degrees of canon alteration and canon divergence, but are for the most part in line with the BoTW universe as we know it.

General disclaimer:I do not advocate for underage drinking, unprotected or unsafe sex, or generally poor decision making. Be smart and safe in real life, y'all!

Okay fics (wc: 20k-50k)

Zelda’s Log

T | Post-canon | Domestic fluff | wc: 43k | Last updated 03/24/19

After defeating the Calamity, Zelda and Link embark on a journey: she wants to get acquainted with the new Hyrule, and find her place again in the world.

The World That We Lost

T | Post-canon | wc: 41k | Complete

After defeating Ganon, princess Zelda goes back to Hyrule, resolved to rebuild her kingdom and make it even greater than it was one hundred years ago. While she feels confident enough to face any challenge and confront any foe that stays on her way, a reality breaks her heart: Link remembers her, but not quite, and his new life has made changes in his personality that even the total recovery of his memories may not be able to revert.

Unconventional

T | Post-canon | Slow burn | Implied sexual content | wc: 40k | Last updated 06/12/19

In the wake of the victory over Calamity Ganon, Link and Zelda need time to heal and adjust. Unfortunately, with rising pressure for Zelda to rise into the role of Queen of Hyrule, they aren’t given much time. Couple that pressure with confusing feelings for the Champion of Hyrule, well, her life has never been simple.

A New Normal

M | Post-canon | Memory loss | wc: 30k | Complete

About two years after sealing away Calamity Ganon, Zelda comes down with the same mysterious illness that took her mother away. Purah and the other Sheikah work on revamping the Shrine of Resurrection, and manage to heal her in two years; but she is plagued by the same memory loss that Link went through. The two struggle in their relationship and responsibilities as they try to recover her memory and thrive in Hyrule as they know it.

What wouldn’t I do?

T | Pre-canon | Slow burn | wc: 30k | Last updated 03/10/19

Link is appointed Hylian Champion for saving princess Zelda’s life. She doesn’t seem very fond of him though. Despite his struggle to cope with carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, Link can’t help but wonder if he really is ready to give his life in order to save someone who doesn’t trust him.

Link’s Journal

T | Canon compliant | wc: 30k | Complete

Day 1

I’ve had a bit of a rough day. I don’t remember who I am, a girl keeps talking in my head, I’m supposed to slay Calamity Ganon, a blue bokoblin nearly beat me to death with a stick, and the old man still won’t give me his paraglider.

But, well, I’m still here, breathing and thinking and eating baked apples, so it could be worse. The old man (who is annoyingly enigmatic – I don’t know who I am, the least you could do is tell me who you are) showed me how to write in the Sheikah Slate. I want to keep a record of who I am, right now, because, well, I can’t remember who I was before. If I lose my memory again, this time I will be ready.

[What’s Happening: The author journaled her BotW play through. Every in-game night “Link” stops to write an entry in his journal.]

Observation Methods in Data Collection

No ranting | Pre-canon | First person pov | Diary/journal | wc: 27k | Complete

I read somewhere that it was obvious that Zelda was falling for Link because she treated him like a science experiment, which allowed her to talk and think about him without really acknowledging that she had feelings for him. I loved this interpretation SO MUCH! So, here is my attempt at filling in some of those details.

On Propriety and Unconventional Avenues of Communication

T | Post- canon| wc: 21k | Complete

(Post BOTW.) In which Link develops a very curious habit and Zelda is confused.

Short fics / oneshots ( - 20k)

Forgotten Knight

M | Post-canon | Sexual Tension | wc: 15k | Complete

Zelda and Link have defeated the Calamity but Link did not regain his memory. They return to Hateno Village to heal and recover, and to not only get to know each other again, but to learn how to love each other again as well.

Risk of Burn

E | Post-canon | Explicit sexual content | wc: 15k | Complete

Three weeks after the fall of the Calamity, Zelda changes her mind.

The Joys of Photography

G | Post-canon | wc: 14k | Complete

The Sheikah Slate has the remarkable ability to capture and archive true to life images. Such a remarkable piece of ancient technology is not something that should be taken for granted. But that doesn’t mean that the Princess of Hyrule and her appointed Knight have to be so serious about every image they capture. The story of five pictures taken on the Sheikah slate.

Son of The Wild

T | Post-canon | Family fluff | wc: 13k | 05/16/19

Link and Zelda’s son reflects on his unusual upbringing.

practical anatomy

E | Post-canon | Explicit sexual content | wc: 12k | Complete

Is the Goddess still testing him? Has he not suffered enough in this lifetime? Was killing the Calamity not enough—now he has to explain morning wood to the Princess of Hyrule?

(in which Zelda discovers an unsavoury image on the Sheikah Slate and Link must face the consequences)

Soldier’s Log

T | Pre/post-canon | wc: 11k | Complete

The events leading up to the return of Calamity Ganon as well as life after his defeat as recorded in the pages of a journal belonging to a knight who would be king.

By the fire

T | Ficlet collection | wc: 11k | Complete

A collection of Zelink ficlets in the BOTW universe. Some ideas were developed for my main fic, “The World That We Lost”, but had to be scrapped because they didn’t fit anymore. Others are explorations of different canon formulas and timelines that said fic doesn’t touch, and some more could come from prompts (send me one, if you want!)

On the Life of Queen and Consort

T | Memoir | Post-canon | First person pov | wc: 11k | Complete

Few know me. I was the Queen’s left hand and the Consort’s right. I was their first, best and last friend. But above all, I was their advisor, and now that my tenure has ended, it is time to write their story.

After 100 years apart, Link and Zelda finally unite to rebuild their Kingdom. Their reign together is long, with triumphs and heartbreaks as they navigate Royal life, raising children, conquering fears and growing old in a Kingdom beset by peace. Now at its end, their Chief Advisor Larella sits down to write the history of their reign, having beared witness to much of their lives.

Part of Zelink Week 2017 - this is a ten part series that looks into the partnership and later life of Link and Zelda as Queen and Consort of Hyrule.

#link-avalon #zelink #botw zelink #fanfiction

[chrisemrysfics]

WIPs&Projects List

Hello!

I had two separate posts for that before, but I decide to make a whole new post and combine in one post, so that everything is in one place!

Do note that my inspiration did shift toward MDZS a bit more, however I still plan to actively progress on writing for my DGM fics.

Read more as it is a long post, will adjust when anything needs adjusting and reblog when I do!

Main focus for WIP

My top priority, so the ones I will most often look to write for.

Shadows Symphonies, No one else but you, I expect an equal level of inspiration for both. Note: right now, No one else but you only has its one-short version posted, what I mean is that the multi chapter version is one I am actively working on right now, and will be a main focus once posted!

Meet me Halfway to the End is also a main focus, it might not get updated as often as the MDZS ones, still I want to actively continue this one the most (out of DGM fics).

Secondary focus for WIP

Less priority than my main focus, yet I still intend to work on them whenever I can, and are likely easier to get inspired for (but less likely than my main focus).

Assassin’s Light, I can’t say it’s as main focus as before, so it’s more so a secondary focus now, still I want to continue it.

Rise of the Walker, there’s a good chance it’ll be slower to update than Assassin’s Light and main focus WIPs, however I want to write more for it, as it is Allen’s backstory for all canonverse fics.

Mid focus for WIP

Honestly I call mid focus because the following two fics are less priority than secondary focus, but easier to get inspired for than all other WIPs after, so mid focus felt about right for them.

Bring me to Life

Make it Right

Low focus for WIP

Here come the fics that have a low focus from me, however note it’s more precise to say it is a fickle focus. I could get super inspired one day, which can be in one week, one month, two months, etc. I could get super inspired for the next chapter, or super inspired for multiple chapters. I could get renewed inspiration in the form of regular updates for a short term period. I could get inspiration to finish if I know a fic to be getting close enough to final chapters.

In short, these place low as priority, not out of lack of inspiration, but out of utter randomness of it.

The future we choose, Freedom to love, Secret of Dark Red, The Joy of Time Travel, The Divine Battle, Out Past, Shadows of Rebirth, Tales of Black Wings.

Semi-hiatus WIP

The difference for these ones is that, while it is also fickle when I get inspired for them, it is also much harder for me to feel inspired, and so they are more of actual low level of inspiration, rather than just fickle.

Hellish Chronicles, Different Yet Alike, Fated Chain, Broken Chain.

Main Projects

Those are the non-WIP stuff I am actively working on as side things to my WIPs!

Story to come Bonus “chapter” for all my WIPs except the main focus ones, they are meant to be for anyone who wish to get an idea of what the story is going to be, whether it is to make it easier to wait or to know and close the figurative book for good, a choice for every readers I have and might have in the future, and more freedom for myself as it will be easier to write if I’m not feeling guilty people are waiting to know what happens next (either they wait willingly, or wait knowing what they are waiting for, a choice they didn’t have before).

MDZSxDGM crossover in the form of Noah!Wei Wuxian, for now I am not sure what form it will take, however my best guess is a series where each fic is a collection of scenes based in the same settings. Either I’ll write as much as I can (so it’ll be pretty much “complete” when I first start posting it) before posting, or I’ll start posting at one point I feel comfortable doing so and it becomes a main or secondary focus.

ABO settings, which are going to be general (rather than fandom based) and meant as more so of a fun project, replying to the question how would I write ABO settings.

A second part to The Path we took, I want to expand on the k/ink s/ex aspect more, as there are more stuff I didn’t really put or that I fully worded later, and I want to have Wangxian word it themselves.

Side Projects

Those are the non-WIP stuff I intend to work on, however I’m not actively doing so right now.

A sequel to Long Lost Reunion, meant to be multi-chapter.

Expansion to Window of the Heart, as I have left-over scenes in my idea notes.

Venerated Triad might get expanded one day, and/or get a proper multi-chapter fic, as I can feel there’s a story I can make out of it, I just have too much on my plate right now to give time to it for now.

Field Adventure, Deity’s Royal and Protectors in Everytime, Everywhere might get expanded (all one-shots of this fic might, but these three are more likely), however for now it is just a project idea.

Requiem aeternam is a very tiny maybe about a possible expansion.

There were also some ideas I noted down about a Neallen two shot that would be lime if not lemon, Tykillen one-shots of the lime/lemony type, and a Joyd/Allen multi-chapter fic (not meant to be long, will move to secondary or mid focus if it goes get longer than expected).

Note that there are two fics I intend to write that goes with Meet me Halfway, one will be the origin of war and the other the life of Mana, Nea and Allen before everything went wrong (and how things went wrong). When I’ll work on them, is left to be decided based on my progress in Meet me Halfway.

Notes of projects for longer stories

I do have quite a few ideas noted down for multi-chapter fics, in various fandoms. This is a little overview, of all these things I hope to one day write.

White Devil is the nickname for another big canon au I once planned for, I’m likely to eventually work on it secondary to whichever WIPs I have when I finally work on White Devil, but also it won’t happen until I have less WIPs on my hands (though it is possible I work on it slowly here and there).

A DAIxDGM crossover is likely to be worked on one day, it was first born as a rp idea, to have my Lavellan character end up in DGM world and grow up there, what I really want to write is the DAI storyline when there’s this Lavellan who grew up with the Noah Clan, Allen as brother, and who already had a canon au background (half spirit). One of the scenes I really, really want to write and almost is the sole push behind everything is Allen’s arrival in DAI world and then Allen being a constant present that wlll f*ck you up if you mess with his little brother.

There is also a DAI&SKyrim crossover series I’ve once world build and wrote down notes about, it has in Skyrim a Thief Guild OC with secrets, my first Dovahkin, and my first Inquisitor with my second Inquisitor as Companion (and lover, meant to be a vee or triad with Dorian eventually). Yes, this first inquisitor is the same Lavellan as for the DGM crossover, in the way the backstory is the same up until what changes in the DGM crossover (but there is no crossover with Skyrim in the DAIxDGM crossover).

I’ve had another multi chapter fic planned for Natsume Yuujinchou, canon au with Ayakashi Natsume and Matoba/Natsume. I also have multiple Pokemon fics planned. The same goes to BBC Merlin, there were quite a few fics I had ideas for and noted down. All these fandoms however are where I intend to only have one WIP per fandom, so new fics won’t come until existing WIP in their fandom are finished or are close to finished.

And of course, there are the existing series that I have, who imply multiple fics and so fics to write in the future.

#progress #projects

[bloodsworn-marshal]

Plans for the new year!

[[ Good day to you followers! Its been another wonderfully great year here and a fun time in terms of making more friends than ever, participating more with in game events, improving in art... just a wonderful time all around! I think I’ve truly come out of my shell in a lot of places and I feel more confident in doing what I do.

That being said, I’ve noticed I’ve dipped a lot in terms of actual RP activity on this blog... or perhaps it has stagnated? Though I did have a number of wonderful threads going on this year with some people, it feels as though I’ve done less than what I could have. Part of that can be blamed on the expansion I think (Gods I can’t wait for more!), but also because a lot of my rps have either moved onto discord or I’m trying out participating more with in game rp. Its difficult to find a good balance I feel, wanting to be busy everywhere! But also simply wanting to play the game when I want and arting when I want.

I really want to open up more threads on this blog again. A lot of the one’s I’ve had have been slow or I haven’t found the motivation to push myself into deep writing. Kinda comes with rping a serious renown character and also having to think before I post. There’s also the wish that I could rp with more canon characters, especially those associated with my muse! But I find any that I do run into either end up missing over time or simply aren’t what I’m looking for (With no offense to anyone! Just muses in general I can’t see my own muse mingling with).

Starting with the new year, I have the mind to start anew and purge any of my current threads unless a person has stated to me otherwise they wish to continue the thread. From there, I might finally start reblogging starter prompts! I’ve never done it before because, well... I had no idea how they worked exactly :’D;; and was too nervous to mess up where so many others know what they’re doing! I’m also contemplating opening my discord name to the public since I find that place can be nicer to rp at times where I don’t have to specifically format a post. Or just to have more friends on discord in general!

Either way I want to make more connections in the new year and open up to more possibilities. I want to write more about Pipin’s relations with a multitude of characters as well as expand on him as a character both canon-wise and au-wise as well. Perhaps a little less on screenshot taking-- I might have gone a bit overboard with that as of late ahaha...

Thanks again for listening to my rambling... and a happy new year to all of you!! ]]

#ooc #long post #thanks for listening! #here's to a new year #and more friendly friends

[creamypudding]

Combo story sneak peek

I sort of finished the Clack/AkuRoku combo story I started in 2017, waylaid for The Two Penguins, and picked back up this year to complete it for a Big Bang, which died before it ever took off. I say sort of finished because I haven’t written the very last chapter yet, which is an epilogue set several years after the end, and which I am not very invested in writing at the moment (if at all). I haven't read through the entirety of this story yet. It’s still in first draft. I’m going to put this to bed for now and get going on some other projects I’ve yet to start/complete. The break will let me come back to it with fresh eyes and opinions and I hope a feeling of wanting to refine it. 

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I don’t feel very satisfied finishing this story. Well... ok, thinking about it, I think I do know why I feel this way. In part, it’s because this story isn’t satisfying. It’s not got a happy end. But I suspect the main reason is that I don’t feel like the emotion I wanted to transpose from my own experience into this story is adequately portrayed. At least that’s how I feel not having read the whole thing in one go, nor even the last chapter in one go. Maybe I need to be kinder on myself. Maybe the story isn’t even so bad. And if the story does lack the emotional punch like I suspect, it’s probably something I can fix in the subsequent drafts. Anyway, for anyone interested, you can have a sneak peek at the first chapter. May it pique interest. If anyone wants to be a pre-reader for me please get in touch with me. I would appreciate at least one person to read through this and give me feedback on the story, pacing, character development, and relationships. Title: Fleeting Moments (working title) Chapter: 1/(possibly)7 Fandom: FFVII/Kingdom Hearts - Modern AU Pairing: Cloud/Zack and Axel/Roxas Rated: Mature (drug use -smoking and drinking-) Word Count: 8,170 Summary: Cloud and Roxas meet Zack and Axel in a laundry, of all places.

CHAPTER 1 -

The mechanical whir and swish of the washing machines was almost hypnotic, and drowned out the dripping of a leaky faucet somewhere within the laundry room. Cloud, with his back pressed to the wall, sat on the wooden bench lining the side closest to the door.

The laundry was wholly unremarkable. It smelt of washing detergent and liquid softeners. Garish lights above only served to wash out the drab, peeling paint of the walls even further. The cold, gray concrete floor had lost all its polished sheen, and the change and vending machines had all seen better days.

Yet this was one of Cloud’s favorite spots. Winter was dismal up in the mountains, with long hallways and wide open expanses lying between the laundry and his temporary residential housing. So Cloud chose to sit, cocooned in the underground warmth of this room, while he waited for his clothes to be washed so he could move them into the dryer.

He got a lot of reading done down here, which was a definite benefit. Most sane people chose to go do other things than hang in the laundry while their things got clean. So it was mostly quiet and empty in the laundry, and for Cloud this spelt sanctuary from society and his own rather busy life.

People came and went, and Cloud took no notice. He only looked up whenever a machine beeped, checking if it was his one announcing the completion of its cycle. It was never his, so he continued on with his book, an auto-biography. He found himself deeply engrossed in it when eventually a beeping did faintly register. He looked up again, like so many times before, searching out his machine. From where he sat he could make out the LCD display. There were still ten minutes left.

“Hey. Whatcha reading?”

Cloud jumped with a start and then frowned. Eyes darted to see where the question had come from. He found the source in seconds. A man stood by one of the machines facing the opposite wall. He was hauling clothes out of the toploader but looking directly at Cloud. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” came the apology, along with a smile, which lit up the man’s whole face. 

Cloud couldn’t fathom why he was being spoken to. “It’s fine. And, um… it’s a auto-biography of Ferdinand Papora.” Cloud flashed the front cover up, so the man could see it.

“Who’s that?”

“A racing car driver.”

“Pretty famous?”

“Obviously not famous enough if you’ve never heard of him.”

“Well he might be. I’m completely oblivious to that sort of thing. You like racing?”

“Not particularly.”

A confused look was followed up with the question, “So what’s with the book then?”

Cloud inspected the paperback cover before he spoke. “I just like to read biographies. Doesn’t really matter whose it is. And the library here has tons of different ones.” The man continued smiling. “That’s a cool way of expanding your horizons. I might take inspiration from you, if that’s all right.”

Cloud shrugged. “Go ahead. It’s not like I’ve got copyright over reading books on subjects I’ve no interest in.”

“Well, you must have some interest, right? I’ve been here for five minutes, trying to ask you a question but you were totally engrossed in that book.”

He felt slightly taken aback and said, “Oh. Sorry.”

“No worries. So the book’s a real page turner?” The man hoisted up a collapsible laundry basket and moved toward the dryer section.

“Mmm. It has its moments.”

“Think you’ll finish it?”

“Of course. I see things through to the bitter end.”

The man laughed. “That sounds dire. You a perfectionist?”

Cloud hummed thoughtfully. “Nah, I’m just a completionist.” “I stand corrected.” The man dumped his load of laundry into the dryer, inserted coins and pushed some buttons. “So this Ferdinand—ah…”

“Papora,” Cloud assisted.

“Yeah, him. What are some of his more notable moments?”

“Well,” Cloud inspected the book, to help jog his memory, “He survived three near-fatal crashes. Went through some pretty hefty rehab in hospital, and continues driving even to this day, despite the peg-leg.”

“Woah, seriously?”

“No. I made up the peg-leg, but the rest’s true.”

The man laughed loudly. It shook into Cloud a little. “What a shame. That would have made even me read the book.”

“It’s still a worthwhile read. The guy’s pretty… driven.”

Another laugh and a great big smile lifted and turned the other man’s rather tanned complexion a little darker. “Nice one.”

Cloud cracked a smile. He wasn’t usually this chatty, particularly with a stranger but… well he put it down to being in a relatively good mood.

The man closed the lid of the machine and leaned against it, looking across the room at Cloud. “I’m Zack, by the way.”

“Cloud,” he responded.

With raised eyebrows Zack said, “Nice name.”

Cloud gave a small sigh. His mood was about to go south. “Here we go,” he muttered.

The raven-haired man tilted his head to the side. “Go where?” 

“The weather related puns. Go on. I’ve heard them all.” He resigned himself to the inevitable. Cloud opened his book again to give a clear indication that he was done communicating.

“Really? That thought didn’t even cross my mind.”

Cloud laid eyes on him without lifting his head. “What was with that look, then?”

“What look?”

Cloud imitated what he had just witnessed.

Zack shrugged and pushed off the machine, walking toward Cloud. “It’s just how my face works. I think Cloud’s a cool name. They’re my favorite things about the sky, you know.” He came to a standstill a few steps away from Cloud.

Cloud skeptically scanned the man before him, dressed in dark jeans and a dark wool-knit turtleneck sweater. This close the man looked rather tall. It wasn’t even the thick heeled boots. He was probably really tall even without those on. Cloud wondered if he should he believe him. The man looked sincere enough; that soft smile plastered on the rather handsome face—broad cheeks, pointed jaw and nose—spoke of gentle earnestness. But with distrust in his voice Cloud questioned him, “Even more than stars?” Because everyone loved stars. It was a fact of life.

“Yeah. Even more than the stars and moon. Give me fluffy altocumulus or wispy cirrus clouds in a wide blue sky any day of the week. Even these nimbostratus clouds around here, bringing all the snow, are nice. But I do prefer the other ones. If I had to choose.” Zack tapped at lips, thoughtfully.

That response took Cloud by surprise. “Well, I’m impressed. Look at you, totally nerding out about clouds. You a meteorologist or something?”

“Nup. Just an amateur cloud fancier,” Zack grinned.

Cloud’s heart thumped a bit at that wording. He paid it no mind and returned a small smile of his own. Both men stayed like that for way too many moments. Cloud grew uncomfortable, desperately searching for something to say. He didn’t like people just looking at him. “What did you want to ask me?”

“Oh, right,” Zack slapped the side of his head. “I wanted to know if you’d have a drink with me this Saturday. I’ll be at the Clay Bar. Eight til late,” Zack positively beamed.

Cloud blinked, not comprehending. “What?”

“I mean, if you’re into it. If not then don’t worry.” The man’s toothy smile simmered down.

Had he heard right? Was he being asked out? By someone he just met? No way. Cloud opened his mouth to say… he knew not what.

“Cloud!” His name rang out several times, down the hallway, getting louder and louder by the second. 

Both men turned their heads to look at the source of the tumult. 

Roxas flew through the open doorway, “Cloud! Guess what! Sophia Tiller will be giving a symposium right here in the center!” By the time Roxas had finished that sentence he had slid with great force along the bench and was now in Cloud’s face, with hands resting on Cloud’s thighs.

“She is?”

“Yeah,” Roxas nodded eagerly.

Disbelief melted and excitement bubbled inside of Cloud. “We gotta get tickets.”

“Already sorted,” Roxas grinned.

“Nice one.” Cloud put his closed fist up and Roxas completed the gesture by fist bumping him.

The sound of a slight cough drew both men’s faces up and over.

Roxas frozen. The bubbling warm excitement gave way to overwhelming and sheer dread. Who was this guy? How long had he been there for? Had Roxas just embarrassed himself completely before a stranger? He looked to Cloud for a minute second.

Cloud saw the tension which seized Roxas. He gave him a quirked lip and a slight eyebrow raise to encourage him and let him know it was alright. That seemed to snap Roxas out of the panic. 

“Oh. Hey! Uh—” Roxas glanced between Cloud and the stranger. Could he regain some dignity? Could he just… avoid? “Did I… interrupt something?”

“Ah… this is Zack. Zack, this is Roxas. We were just…”

“I was just leaving. But it’s nice to meet you, Roxas,” Zack said with a big smile.

Cloud was relieved, because he didn’t know how he would have finished that sentence had he been left to his own devices.

“Ah,” Roxas let out, half in relief, half in reply.

The room was quiet other than the sound of the clunk-clunk-clunk of the dryer going around. The men all looked between each other. The whole situation felt unnaturally awkward.

A loud beeping startled everyone. Cloud saw that his load was finally done, so he got up and made his way over to the machine, thankful that it alleviated the weird tension. He walked right past Zack. It was unavoidable and made Cloud full aware of the man’s height. He barely came up to his shoulders, and in no way was he short, not like Roxas. 

“Do you need some help?” Zack asked as Cloud squatted down and pulled open the front loader door

“No, it’s what I’ve got Roxas for,” he said without looking up. “Roxas,” he commanded.

Roxas snapped out of his panicked thoughts which circled around telling him how he had embarrassed himself and how he was to blame for the absolutely stifling awkwardness which was in the room. “Coming,” he muttered and slid off the bench and shuffled over to Cloud, with his head bowed so as not to be seen by Zack. But Roxas still felt the towering presence. He reached Cloud, held out his arms and received the dumping of wet clothes. He then scurried over to the dryers, relieved to have his back to the source of his embarrassment.

Cloud stood up and followed Roxas with his eyes, but was brought back to himself as warmth radiated next to him. He turned and looked up at Zack out of the corner of his eye.

“Cute kid. He yours?” Zack nodded toward Roxas.

Cloud glowered. Roxas froze, somehow even more embarrassed. Kid? Roxas looked down at himself, dressed in his big blue Cookie Monster hoodie. He winced. 

“We’re brothers," Cloud almost growled.

“Oh.” Zack laughed and rubbed at his neck, “Shit, sorry for assuming. That’s embarrassing. Sorry. My mistake.”

Exasperated, Cloud said, “Can you just leave?”

“Oh.” The way Zack’s face fell felt a little comical to Cloud. “Yeah, sure. But.. before I do… are we… okay?” He looked at Cloud with concern, and then throwing his head in the direction of Roxas said, “Hey, Roxas, man, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that.”

Roxas was focusing all his energy on putting each individual item of clothing into the dryer separately. He waves with one hand, not turning to look at the other man, and said, “All good.” His face was burning up. He wanted to strip off his hoodie and dump it in the trash.

Cloud looked over at his brother; the tension in his shoulder, his slow movements. He could feel Roxas’ discomfort and embarrassment. Why was Zack still here? Maybe Cloud wasn’t being tough enough? He needed the other man gone. Cloud pressed his lips together, leaned against the washing machine with his arms folded across his chest and gave the other man a pointed staredown.

Zack took a step back as if Cloud’s stance had put up a physical barrier. “Uh-oh. I’ll leave, no worries. Bye, Roxas,” he said loudly, and then more quietly, “See ya around, Cloud, yeah? I hope we’re okay. Clay Bar. Eight to late on Saturdays.” Zack gave Cloud a little smile and a casual two-fingered salute and hurriedly left the laundry. His hasty footfalls echoed and faded down the hall.

Cloud let out a deep breath, peeled his eyes off the doorway and onto Roxas who turned around to face Cloud across the way. His cheeks were a deep, splotchy crimson. Cloud felt terrible for him.

The two brothers stared at each other for a few beats and then the smiles grew and the laughter started out of both of them.

“You really let him have it with your Cloud-stare-of-death,” Roxas giggled madly, feeling so good to have the anxiousness replaced by a different sensation.

"Well, he was making everything really uncomfortable."

Roxas stopped laughing. "I think that was just me."

"It wasn't."

"Oh." Roxas left it alone. They argued way too much about what was and wasn't his fault. Roxas supposed life would be easier if he could believe Cloud, but they were brothers, so Cloud would always say stuff to make him feel better. "Was that a friend of yours?" he deflected.

Cloud returned to the bench to collect his discarded book. “No. He’s just a random guy I literally only met about ten minutes ago.”

Roxas chuckled. “That’s so unlike you; making random friends in the laundry.”

“We’re not friends.”

“But he said something about going to the bar?”

Cloud didn’t want to think about it. “How’re you feeling?”

“Oh… yeah… okay, I guess? Now anyway. Do you think I dress like a little kid?” He pulled at his sweater, looking down at Cookies big smiley face.

“You shouldn’t worry about it. There’s nothing wrong with liking Cookie Monster.” “Yeah, but I’m twenty and a guy. I had to go to the women’s section to find all the cute stuff.” 

“Stop doubting yourself.” “You know I can’t do that. I wish it was easier.” Cloud sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. Is it getting better at all?”

“Little by little, I guess?” he shrugged.

Cloud smiled at his brother. “I definitely see the improvements you've made since you've been pushing yourself.”

The smile that should be on Roxas’ face never came. He just looked down at his sweater some more and frowned harder. “I still feel like I fall apart when you're not around.”

“Keep practicing. Worst case scenario; pretend I’m behind you, giving you this look—” Cloud gave him a dead serious and slightly angry scowl.

Roxas broke into a smile then and laughed. “Got it. The disappointed-dad glare. You do it so well.”

“I got it enough times to have mastered it.” Cloud rolled his eyes.

“He only looks at you like that because he loves you the most and expects the most from you.”

“Why couldn't you have been the older brother? It's all your fault,” Cloud threw out with a dismal and exaggerated sigh, ribbing Roxas.

Roxas stuck his tongue out as way of reply. “Hey, but that guy; Zack.”

Cloud sat down, trying to cast his mind back on that weird encounter. “What about him?”

“I think he’s got the hots for you.”

Cloud gave a startled cough. “Huh?”

“He was totally checking you out when you got the laundry out.”

“No.” “He did. I was stressing out but I still noticed. He totally was.”

Cloud groaned. “How about you get the dryer started or our clothes’ll never dry.”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” Roxas remembered what he came down here for. He turned back to the forgotten machine and inserted the coins.

Having Roxas’ eyes off him gave Cloud some reprieve to acknowledge what he was trying to deny himself. “You really think so?—about Zack?” he asked tentatively.

“Yup.” Roxas smacked the machine and felt it jolt to life with a loud rumble. He turned back around and walked over to where Cloud was sitting.

“Damn.” Cloud wrinkled his nose and looked at the floor. “What’s up?” Roxas returned to Cloud’s side giving him an inquisitive look.

“If you’re right then he also totally asked me out on a date before you came in.”

Roxas’ eyes and mouth sprang open. “Ooooo,” Roxas sing-songed and giggled. He snappily sat down next to Cloud and nudged his side with his elbow. “So I did ruin the mood, huh.”

“There was no mood to ruin,” Cloud denied and stood up. He hadn’t even been sure of what it had been before Roxas had bombarded him with his observations.

“You gonna take him up on the offer?”

Cloud pressed his lips together, thinking about it

“Hmm? Well?” Roxas grinned up at his always too serious brother.

Cloud grimaced and turned away from Roxas a little. He wasn't used to people asking him out, preferring to keep to himself as much as possible. But… “He is sort of… attractive,” he understated with a mutter. 

“Only sort of?” The tease was unmistakable.

Sexy chiseled jaw, tight jeans, cool leather jacket, and did he already think of those tight jeans? He had smelt really nice too as he had passed him. Cloud merely grunted and then conceded with a small, “Maybe.”

Roxas sniggered and wore a satisfied smirk. “Attaboy.”

“Shut up. When’s this Sophia Tiller thing happening?”

“Oh right. Two weeks from now. I left the flyer with all the info on the kitchen counter.”

“Okay. I’ll go email it out to both our groups and then I really need to get ready for work. Don’t forget to take the clothes out.” “No worries. I’m on it, and thanks!” Roxas waved as Cloud took his leave of the laundry room. --------------

Roxas sat in the laundry, fiddling around on his phone to pass the time. He played some mindless games, trawled through online message boards, and checked the clothes, separating and pulling out the items which were drier than the others and putting them in a plastic bag he had pulled out from his pocket.

Dark hair and a somewhat familiar face popped through the doorway at some point, attracting Roxas’ attention.

“Hey, Roxas. Is it okay if I come in? I need to get my stuff out of the dryer.”

Roxas felt his stomach drop and butterflies kicked up a storm. His heart jolted into an uneasy pace. He pulled his arms around himself, trying to hide his sweater. Heat prickled his chest and cheeks. “You don’t have to ask me. It’s a public space,” he got out, trying to shut off his thoughts.

“I just thought… if I make you uncomfortable I can always leave and come back later.” 

That offer took Roxas aback. “N-no, you’re fine to come in.” 

“Oh, cool.” Zack grinned and he strode into the warm room. “I didn't mean any offence.”

Roxas just nodded, hoping Zack would leave him alone, and he pulled his phone out again, hunching in on himself with his feet up on the bench, knees up and slouching against the corner wall. But apparently Zack took Roxas’ silence as something entirely different— 

“I'm sorry, really. I just wanted to figure out who you were to Cloud. I didn't wanna overstay my welcome if you were… well, you know.”

Roxas didn't, but figured he had to make conversation if he was ever going to have Zack believe that he wasn't angry at him. He tried to picture Cloud’s disappointed-dad face and told himself it was fine because he had already made a fool of himself once. He took a deep breath and then, “It’s all good. All fine. Really. A lot of people assume I'm much younger than I am.” And no wonder with the way that he looked and often times acted. If he wasn’t running away from social situations he ended up saying dumb shit which made him look like a complete imbecile.

Zack advanced further towards Roxas’ position. “Well, I’m sorry anyway.”

“You don't have to keep saying that. You're not in Cloud’s bad books or anything,” he muttered, wondering—hoping—that this wasn't really about himself.

“Well, he does love reading,” Zack chuckled to himself. “Ah… hey, Roxas,” Zack sat down and slid across the bench toward him. Roxas pulled his knees closer to himself. “You think I'm in with a chance? With your brother, I mean.”

The tight coil of panic eased a little bit and he felt breathing to be a little easier. It really was all about Cloud. Thank god! Zack clearly didn’t care about him at all. Such a relief! He shrugged by way of reply. Cloud would definitely hurt him if he told Zack what they had discussed earlier.

“Got any tips for me?”

Roxas shook his head. He wanted to be left alone, so he looked back down at his phone.

The hint seemed to finally be received. Zack sighed and got up. “It wasn't supposed to be an interrogation. Just came to get my stuff.” He walked to a dryer and started pulling clothes out.

Roxas would have felt relieved… if he didn’t feel so bad. He wished for Cloud to be around to make him feel more at ease. But he wasn’t, and Roxas was stuck in his own anxiety-riddled skin. He stared blankly at his phone, tapping the screen to keep it from going into sleep, while all his senses were trained on Zack, without directly looking at him.

He worried and wondered what Zack thought of him to an unreasonable extent. Why should it matter to him? He didn’t even know Zack. But no amount of reasoning ever seemed to do him any good. He wanted to leave a good impression though. He didn’t want Zack to hate him, especially if he would be around for a while. The fact that Cloud had apparently engaged Zack enough for them to have talked for a bit was significant. Unless it was for business, or a close friend or family member, Cloud didn’t give people so much as the time of day. For some weird reason this felt weighty, in his chest and limbs, and especially in his head.

Lid slammed. Roxas tore his unfocused gaze away from his phone and up toward Zack, who walked carrying his load of washing in a cloth bag. His unhurried but determined footsteps echoes around the quiet space. “Later, Roxas.” He gave a wave and a congenial smile.

Roxas was totally leaving a terrible impression right now. He could feel it. “Peanut butter,” he burst out as Zack vanished through the doorway.

Footsteps ceased and seconds later Zack leaned backward through the doorway and looked at Roxas, confused. “Huh?”

“Cloud. He loves peanut butter. Smooth. Not crunchy.”

Gray-blue eyes lit up and Zack’s smile stretched wide across his face. “Thanks, man!” and with that Zack was gone, his steps fading off into the distance of the long concrete hallway beyond.

Roxas was left alone once more and he breathed out his nerves. He had managed to not make a fool of himself this time. But what if Cloud got angry with him? Should he really have given the man any information about anything pertaining to his own flesh and blood? Had he become some sort of an accomplice? Roxas tried to take a deep, calming breath. And another. And another. “Fuck!” He got up, poked his head out past the doorway to see if anyone was around. The coast was clear. He went toward the back of the laundry, around a corner where the wash basins for handwashing were situated. He went to the very back corner, squeezing in between the end of the washbasin and the corner wall to where a ventilation grate sat recessed in the wall. He loosened the screws which held the vent grate in place. A bit of jiggling leant itself to the metal coming out of its wall fitting. It revealed a hollow and dark cavity, leading out of the building. Roxas reached into the void, expertly finding what he had put there himself; a ziplock bag with a stage of cigarettes and a lighter inside. He looked at the bag and swore. He only had one left. 

Without thinking about it he took the lone smoke and lighter out and shoved the empty bag back in the hole. He’d have to bum a few smokes off someone when he got another chance. That thought made him feel even more stressed out. 

His hands jittered a little but he got himself lit up after two tries. He took a deep dragging suck of the heavy smoke. It delightfully hit that spot right at the top of his throat and instantly soothed his nerves. He took a few more longer drags, exhaling into the vent and then stubbed out the cigarette and returned it into the bag. He wasn’t a heavy smoker. It was just a vice to help soothe his nerves. If he could save this cigarette he’d be spared the anxiety of having to ask strangers for a new one. 

“Blowing-fucking-hole-of-motherfucking-shit!”

Roxas jumped with fright and snapped his attention to the main part of the laundry. He quickly worked at securing the vent and quietly walked over to the corner, to peek around and see what was going on.

He saw the source of the profanity and it certainly wasn't hard to spot; a lanky redhead, sporting hands on hips, staring at the detergent vending machine which was mounted on the wall near the first row of washing machines.

Roxas slunk back around his corner and took deep breaths. The few puffs he had of the nicotine still calmed him. He could stay hidden here. He could go over to the dryer and check it to make himself look busy. There was no need to be shy or nervous.

“Why’re there so many Goddamn brands to choose from in this metallic piss pot?” A loud metallic thump sounded through the space. 

Roxas felt his heart sink. He probably should help. No one else was around after all and the longer he lingered in indecisiveness the worse his embarrassment would be if the guy realized he had been in here all along. Roxas pictured Cloud’s stern stare. He told himself to play it cool, took a deep breath, clenched his trembling fists, and stepped out of his hiding nook, saying, “You need a hand with anything?”

The man jumped and yelped. He whirled around, squeaking slightly, “Oh geez. Where’d you come from?”

Roxas stared at piercing green eyes, high cheekbones and pointed chin. An overwhelming sense of inadequacy rushed through him. This stranger was completely handsome. Roxas shrunk in on himself, crossing his arms in front of himself, trying to hide Cookie Monster. He screamed at himself for still wearing the sweater. 

“Eh…” the man said.

Roxas blinked rapidly. Shit. What had been the question? “My mom and dad?” 

The redhead’s eyebrow rose as did the corner of his mouth.

Roxas screamed internally at his stupidity. He was aiming for cool - not complete dork. “I-I mean I’ve just been here,” he gave a vague shrug towards the dryers. Had he saved it? “Need help?” he tried to deflect walking closer and calling himself names.

The amusement the other man wore melted away, “Yes! I don’t normally do laundry. I have no idea which of these to use.” He pointed at the dispenser and stuck his hands deep into his jean pockets.

Roxas' heart raced uncomfortably, his palms sweat, but he could handle the topic of laundry. He’d just focus on that instead of vivid green eyes. He walked over with a bit of confidence as he fixed his gaze onto the vending machine. He tried to ignore the fact that the redhead was very tall. He hugged himself tighter, really wishing he had worn something cool today, instead of childish. “Well,” he began, “most of these are all the same. You can have liquid or powder—not that it really matters. The only thing you might need to watch out for is if you’ve got sensitive skin. Then you’d want this one or this one,” Roxas pointed and looked ever so briefly at the other man. “And don't even worry about all these at the bottom. No one needs fabric softener in their lives.”

“But what if I hate scratchy fabric on my delicate skin?”

Roxas looked up and studied the man next to him then, not sure if he was being messed with or if the guy was sincerely concerned. But he couldn’t tell because he got too distracted by porcelain skin which accentuated and drew out the color of the green eyes and the red hair and Roxas had never seen someone like this before, and he hung out with artists all the time, but still nothing compared to that color palette and what was he looking at the man for again?

The mesmerizing green eyes flicked onto Roxas. Thin lips quirked up into a smile.

Roxas quickly looked away and pulled his stupid mouth shut. How long had he been slack-jawed for? Washing Powders! “Ah—” he cleared his throat and tried again, “Then maybe do buy the softener?” 

“Nah. Think I'll manage without it.” 

Whether on purpose or by accident the man's arm brushed Roxas'. He hardly heard the next part because he was so focused on inconspicuously shifting away from the redhead. 

“I’m pretty easy. I could wash my clothes in dish soap and I’d be fine. Why don’t we use dish soap for clothes?”

Roxas shrugged, trying to catch his breath and tell his head to shut up and to not say anything more embarrassing. “Wouldn’t want your clothes squeaky and sparkling, right?” An internal groan followed. He couldn’t pull off cool in a million years. Dork it was always destined to be.

A small laugh came out of the other man and then he said, “Right.”

Roxas’ heart pounded. His cheeks were so definitely red and hot and fuck he wanted to vanish. ‘Just focus on the topic,’ he told himself. “Anyway, you’re better off using this one,” Roxas pointed to the brand Cloud always used. “That seems to work best with these old machines.” “Cool. Thanks.”

Roxas gave the briefest of smiles to the stranger, not daring to focus too hard on his face. He turned his back and walked to his machine where he was definitely going to throw himself into it and disappear from view. He got to his destination, opened the lid but determined he wouldn’t fit. Instead he checked on the clothes, especially the jeans; checking the hems to see if they were drying properly.

“Yo, guy—dude—you. Cookie!"

Cookie! Roxas was mortified and absolutely wanted to die. He turned his head to take a look and saw flailing hands, beckoning him over.

“Roxas,” he offered, shutting the lid of the dryer to let it continue its tumbling. He reluctantly walked toward the redhead, still trying to distort Cookie Monster on his chest by bunching the fabric up.

“Sure. Sup. I’m… Axel. So this machine… what gives?”

“Whaddya mean? Have you never used one of these?”

“No. Well, yeah. But usually there’s like one button to push and I walk away. These things are ancient.”

That made Roxas huff with a small laugh. “Yeah. Their almost like lost relics from another dimension.” Roxas’ smile fell when he saw Axel give him a confused look. He kicked himself. Why couldn't he stick to simple yes and no answers? He didn't know, but he grew determined to be helpful and just focus on the machine, and not the man. “Ah… you just set the cycle here, hit this, spin that and you’re done. Oh and don’t forget to put the detergent in there.” Roxas pointed to all the things he mentioned.

“Awesome. Thanks, man.”

Roxas gave a small nod and turned to get distance between himself and Axel. He barely made it back to his machine before he heard a frustrated grumble.

“I did what you said. So why isn't it starting?” A metallic thud echoed.

Would this troubleshooting nightmare ever end? Couldn't Roxas be left alone? How much more help did he have to give? Clearly, this was a cruel test on his determination for self-improvement. Roxas turned back around. “Kicking it won't help.”

“Maybe. But it's fun. Wanna try?” Axel grinned.

Roxas’ nervousness died a little bit. He shook his head and returned to Axel's side, checking all the settings, redoing them himself and then they both stood around, hands on hips, looking at it.

Axel gave a loud groan and bowed his head. “I’m not cut out for domestics.”

“I don’t know why it’s not working. You put money in, didn’t you?”

Axel raised his head, stared at Roxas and suddenly looked behind Roxas and pointed, “What’s that over there?”

Roxas snapped his attention behind himself. Was it a fire? A large bug? Another person having walked in? He saw nothing bar the empty doorway. Had he just been made fun of? Roxas turned back around fully prepared to get laughed at but saw the other man slip two coins into the coin slot of the machine and push the start button. 

The machine sputtered to life.

Axel side-eyed Roxas, and Roxas quickly looked away. 

“Oh look, magic! It works now!”

The smile grew and Roxas tried to stifle it but he laughed anyway and Axel let out a small laugh as well. They looked back at each other, smiling.

“Amazing magic,” Roxas remarked, nervous tension sliding off his chest.

Axel nodded. “Hey, uh… Roxas?”

“Mm?”

“You seem like the kind of guy who would know where to get a smoke around here.”

The good mood froze inside of Roxas. “Why?” he asked as he stared.

“Well, I can smell it on you.”

Shit. Roxas frowned and snapped at himself for having been so careless. He was so fucking lucky that Cloud wasn’t around right now. “And?” he asked, hesitant of where this would lead.

“I could really use one right about now.”

Roxas could relate. He debated with himself whether or not to give Axel directions to the tobacconist down in the town or if he should keep Axel around. He heavily leaned toward sending Axel away but… “Well—” He looked around, making sure the coast was clear, and then beckoned Axel to follow him around the corner to where the handwash basins and his hidden stash were.

This was unprecedented, but Roxas thought they had shared 'a moment' so maybe it would be all right. He walked with purpose to the corner of this section of the room and squeezed into the gap between the washbasin and the wall. Axel was right beside him, squeezing into the small space as well.

Their sides were pressed together. Roxas could smell a hint of musk and feel the other man’s radiating body heat. He really hoped he wasn't going to say something stupid as he began talking, “Can you keep a secret?” he asked in a hushed tone.

Axel leaned down. “I’m master of secret keeping.”

Roxas swallowed down the lump forming. Axel’s warm breath brushing against his face was caught and detected by every fine hair on Roxas’ cheeks and caressed his lips. Nervous butterflies swirled around inside himself. “Ah… normally I wouldn’t do this but—” The tremble and buzzing radiated outward from the pit of his stomach. Roxas really needed to calm his nerves. A smoke would help. He shifted, turning toward the wall, and swiftly got the grate undone and his half-smoked cigarette and the lighter out again.

“Ooo, a secret stash!” 

Roxas heard the excitement in Axel’s voice as he slotted the grate back into place, without redoing the screws. He pressed his back against the opposite wall, trying to get an inch of space between himself and the other man, before offering up the nearly half-smoked cigarette.

"Sorry, this is all I've got left."

Axel took it, but not without dragging a finger down the length of Roxas’ hand. "Thank you for sharing it with me." 

The touch nullified all of Roxas’ thoughts and sent his heart racing. He looked up at green eyes, which looked down at him, half closed. Roxas didn’t know what to make of it. He simply watched long fingers holx and push the cigarette against thin lips in a well-practiced manner.

"We'll share the rest of this one?" Axel mumbled past the obstruction in his mouth and leaned towards the lighter which Roxas held up.

Roxas nodded and flicked the lighter a few times. He could hardly breath. Green eyes kept looking at him in a way that was too sexy for Roxas to comprehend. He needed to smoke a whole packet if he was ever going to recover from this.

Roxas kept flicking the lighter, hating himself that he couldn’t get the blasted thing working. He never had a problem doing this in the past. The one time someone was watching him—someone insanely hot, no less—and he couldn't get the blasted thing working. Well, of course, it figured.

“Here.” The other man's warm hand clasped over Roxas’, steadying him enough so the flame could be lit.

The touch was almost electric with the jolt it sent through Roxas and the flutters it caused. He felt so embarrassed that it made him nauseous.

“You don’t do this very often?” Axel leaned the cigarette into the flame and took a few drags to get it lit.

“Only sometimes—blow into the vent,” he instructed. “Stops the place from stinking, and the fire alarm from going off.” 

Axel hummed in appreciation. Whether it was from the nicotine hitting him or from Roxas’ instructions he couldn’t tell.

Smoke was exhaled into the ventilation system. “Clearly you've done this enough times to know the ins and outs of the place. A real veteran at doing the sneaky sneaky, huh” Axel grinned and winked before passing the cigarette on.

Roxas took it, trying his best to ignore the way their fingers touched and connected. The longer he was pressed up against Axel like this the more in need of a smoke he was. He took a drag, and pulled thick air into his lungs, where the nicotine could do its magic. He let out a shaky breath into the ventilation system and coughed a bit at the end.

More embarrassment welled, counteracting the calming effect the smoke was supposed to have on his nerves.

Roxas passed the cigarette back and saw the way Axel barely held laugh at bay.

“Go on. Let it out.”

“Nah. Couldn't do that. Not after your generosity.” Axel took another puff. “Ah… what about the ashes?”

“Tap them into the sink behind you. We’ll wash them down after.”

Axel did laugh at that. “Nice. You got this all figured out. But why the covert operation? Last I checked smoking wasn't illegal—outside that is. Pretty illegal us doing it in here. You doing it for the extra buzz?” Axel chuckled, passing the smoke once more and as it got smaller and smaller their fingers grazed and connected more and more.

“My brother would lose his shit if he found out.” “Why’s he such a busy-body?"

“Our grandad and uncle died from lung cancer. So it’s probably a genetic predisposition and probably in my best self-interest to not smoke. But… you know,” Roxas shrugged, feeling more relaxed in his own skin even as he could feel himself trembling and feel his cheeks oh so hot with the flush he was experiencing. “Once in a while won't kill me, right?”

“I hope not. Would be a waste.” Axel smiled and Roxas chose to look at the wall instead.

They passed the cigarette between one another for a few more pulls before it was all used up. Roxas was glad when it was all over. Having to reach his arm around the guy so he could ash was wearing on him. As was all the body contact, if Roxas was honest with himself. He tried to ignore it because he could feel his heart race every time he noticed the sensation of legs against his own and the man's pelvis and hips digging in. He shifted as discreetly as he could because he was getting hard and he would die if Axel could feel.

Roxas turned away a little and pulled the grate off the wall once more and disposed of the butt in there and replaced the lighter. He really lamented the fact now that he would have to try and bum another smoke off someone in the near future. That activity alone was so nerve-wracking that he really considered forking out the cash to buy a whole pack for himself. But that seemed too risky for the once in a while medicating relief the cigarettes provided. He sighed to himself in resignation and Pulled out a packet of gum.

He turned back to face Axel, pressing himself tight against the wall to create some space between his groin and the warm delicious and ridiculously hot man before himself and held out the packet. “You want?”

Axel laughed and took a stick. “Thanks. What else you got hidden in there? Drugs?”

Roxas took a piece of gum, popped it in his mouth and threw the packet back in the vent. “Um… just this,” he reached in and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. What the hell. He figured he might as well go all the way with incriminating himself. 

“Oh my God, Roxas!” 

The look of surprised mirth, coupled with the laugh Axel gave, sent a tingle down Roxas’ body. “What?” he asked, trying to hide the smile. He figured his blush couldn't get any deeper so chose to ignore that, and instead focused on how maybe, just maybe, he was pulling off cool?

“Don't be giving me that cute little smile. You're way too badass for that.” Axel laughed some more.

Roxas let the smile spread. He totally was pulling it off. If it wouldn't have a detrimental effect Roxas would have cheered and fist pumped the air. “You wanna?” He held the bottle aloft.

Axel accepted it, unscrewed the top, took out his gum, and took a long swig. He passed it back to Roxas when he was done.

“I shouldn't have accepted the drink,” Axel lamented, popping the gum back in.

“Why not?” Roxas looked at him, confused, and took a deep gulp of his own. It tasted weird with the combination of cigarette smoke and minty gum freshness, but the taste wasn't the reason for drinking for Roxas.

“Well, now I can’t use my line of 'we should go out for a drink some time,’ on you, now can I?”

Roxas choked, coughed and sputtered, bending over a little, sending his forehead right into Axel's chest.

Axel's hand was on Roxas' back in moments, patting and rubbing, which only made Roxas sputter more.

“Take it easy.”

Roxas got control of himself, screwed the cap back on, replaced his gum, and thrust the bottle deep into the vent, closing it up. He was making a colossal fool of himself. His mood sullied considerably. “I can't go out for a drink with you anyway.”

“Why not? Do you need your brothers permission for that as well?”

“No. But I'm twenty, so legally not allowed in this dumb country.”

“I should probably be upset about you callin’ my country dumb—” Roxas suddenly froze, but then breathed out a small sigh as Axel continued, “but the drinking age is dumb. So I’ll let it slide. Do you really have a reason to complain though? You somehow got your hands on a red label,” Axel grinned. “You certainly are something else, Roxas, I'll give ya that.”

“Uh… thanks?”

“You're welcome.”

They were still wedged against each other, between the wall and the wash basin. Neither of them giving the slightest hint to the other that they should move. Well... Roxas couldn’t. He felt frozen in place, party by want and party due to sheer terror. He thought his legs would buckle and collapse under him. Axel was keeping him upright and as Roxas looked up at him he hoped he remembered to blink as he stared deep into pools of green. 

Those eyes were so damn sexy.

Axel’s mouth drifted open, his eyes widened a fraction and softened just as quickly. “Ah, thanks. Yours are gorgeous too.” He smiled gently.

Roxas tensed up and forgot to breathe. He swore he could feel all the blood drain away from his face. Had he said something? Shit. He stammered out, “S-sorry. I shouldn't have—they’re not—I mean you’re not—you are—but—just… sorry.” He quickly extracted himself from the tight corner.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” It came out too hoarse and harsh for his own liking. Roxas berated himself for being a massive idiot.

“Is there anything I can do to repay you for sharing your secret stash with me?”

At least Axel wasn’t teasing him about it. That made him feel somewhat relieved. Roxas, feeling a tiny bit more composed, turned around. Green eyes darted upwards, where they exchanged looks. Fuck! Axel had seen Cookie Monster. Thought Roxas had lied about his age. Thought he was a complete moron and a little kid. Roxas crossed his arms. He was going to burn the sweater, he swore he would. But first he needed this to end. His nerves were getting shot again and he felt like he might need to down the whole bottle if this went on for much longer. With a bowed head and a deep grumble he said, “Can you please just forget what a massive dork I am?” 

“Dork? I think you’re really cute… and a bit sexy.” Axel stepped out of the corner to stand right in front of Roxas.

That froze Roxas up completely. He stared at the black boots with a red trim. Swallowing down the tight lump in his throat he slowly lifted his gaze up over jeans, and the red and black sweater up to Axel’s face, where he saw a soft expression.

With hands deep in pockets, Axel said, “If I can’t buy you a drink at least let me take you out.”

“Like… on a date?”

“Mm. Not really but kinda?” he shrugged.

Roxas didn’t understand what that was supposed to mean. “No. Look, that’s not necessary. I didn’t share this with you ‘cause I wanted anything back.”

“Aren’t you nice.”

Roxas frowned and hugged himself tighter, looking away.

“Roxas?” “What?” he snapped, shooting Axel a grumpy look.

“I’d really like to hang out with you some more.”

It was bizarre and out of left field. Roxas looked around himself, half expecting someone to jump out and yell, 'Gotcha!' “Why? I suck.”

Axel chuckled. “Do you now?”

Roxas wanted to die to escape the embarrassment. “No. I…”

“It’s all right. I blow, you know,” Axel winked.

Roxas choked a bit on his spit. “What?” he croaked. What was even happening right now?

“I blow. I’m in this band and I play the sax. What did you think I meant?”

That cheeky smile said it all. Axel was teasing him. For good or for bad Roxas couldn't tell. “I didn’t think that. No.” He grumbled some more and hunched in on himself more.

“Shame, 'cause if you did, well—” Axel flashed his eyebrows up and a smirk bloomed while he flicked his tongue out to wet his lips.

A swirling hurricane of emotions and thoughts whirled through Roxas. What was going on? This stuff never happened to him. People didn’t hit on him. Axel was doing that, right? Or maybe he did just delight in making Roxas flush deeply and to make him uncomfortable? Roxas opened his mouth, but nothing bar incoherent sounds come out.

A low chuckle flowed from Axel. “It’s all right. Come and watch me blow—this Saturday. Any time after eight.”

Had Axel moved closer to Roxas? It felt like there was no space between them. He took a step back. “I ah—I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Good.”

The harsh beeping of the dryer was like a warm embrace from a dear loved one. “That’s me,” Roxas said with haste, turned and almost bolted to his station. As he pulled out the clothes with great speed and determination he heard Axel’s footsteps drawing closer.

“It was fun, Roxas. Don’t forget, this Saturday at the Clay Bar, yeah? You need to see me in action.”

“Yeah, I’ll… maybe.” Roxas slammed the lid shut and almost ran out of the laundry, the bag of laundry thrown over his shoulder. If he had left anything behind he wasn’t coming back for it.

That’s it for chapter one. Feedback appreciated. If you’d like to pre-read the rest for me get in touch on here or Discord or twitter. All my relevant contact info can be found on my AO3 Profile page.

#fanfiction #sneakpeek #Clack #Zakkura #AkuRoku #FFVII #Kingdom Hearts #drug use #relationship building #social anxiety

[shinneth]

6, 1, 7, 5 and 10 for the fic writer meme!

OKAY. Finally got free from the distractions. Let’s see how well I can answer these. 

6. Share one of your weaknesses

Oh, I have a good amount of those. I would say my tl;dr curse (I don’t think I’ve EVER written a fic below four-figures, and very rarely does it end up 5k or lower), but I know there’s many out there who’d tell me that’s definitely a strength and that they’d love to be able to churn out six-figure epics in their sleep like I do. So let’s go with a more objective weakness.

I have the redundancy curse. I have this really, really really really really really really really bad habit of somehow reiterating a statement twice within the same sentence. Or at the very least, my verbiage will get repeated more times than it should within the same sentence (enough to the point where the sentence sounds very awkward when you read it out loud). This almost always happens because I’ll establish something at the beginning of my sentence, somehow forget about it midway through, and think I need to add it to the end.

I can’t tell you how many times I fall into that trap. Only through rereading my progress to get back into the groove to continue a chapter is when I’ll really have an opportunity to catch these slip-ups. Since I’ve never used betas and I’m pretty much fine finishing everything in one draft and all that. It’s astounding how many of these errors I’ll catch, really. And despite that, a few will always end up slipping through in the final product anyway! 

It’s a very annoying quirk that I’d love to fix, but again, it almost always happens right under my nose. No matter how conscious I try to be about this sort of thing, it’ll pop up when I least expect it. So really, all I can do is just try and catch as many as I can after I’ve written my stuff down, but before I finalize my piece.

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

I think the name of the game here is Adaptation Expansion. I focus on a character (or a small group of characters) that I feel

A) Didn’t get as much canon development as they deserved

or

B) Might have gotten a decently good amount of focus, but I’m seeing many unsolved mysteries/curiosities around said character(s) and many possible routes to explore any headcanons that are raging inside of me.

Or the headcanon itself is just really nagging at me, so I make a whole story dedicated to it. 

In your typical Shin fic, the more Shin likes you, the more you should be afraid. Outside of having a wildly creative sadistic streak, my best ideas are usually best suited to my favorite characters, and I happen to be very big on the Earn Your Happy Ending trope. Certain series I feel kind of gave their characters a good conclusion a little too easily, and so I’ve made it my life’s mission to erase any doubt in my readers’ minds about whether or not the characters truly paid their dues to get their reward at the end. 

So of course, you add that with the sadism, and that means you’re very likely to get a fic that at least somewhat leans on the dramatic end. I think the vast majority of my Fanfiction.net stories are listed under “Drama”, now that I think about it. But really, drama’s what you go with when you wanna raise the stakes to crazy-high levels. It won’t be melodramatic 100% of the time, nor will it be grimdark or consummately edgy; I do make a point to add some witty humor and even fluff if it’s appropriate. But Shin fics are all about letting you see the kind of hell certain characters could be going through in canon and thankfully aren’t - yet you’re also seeing those same characters achieve a level of greatness canon would have never permitted because they put their all into reaching their goal. 

That’s about the gist of it: trying to outdo canon at its own game, giving justice I feel my favorites are due, but only after I put them through the seven circles of hell. 

7.  Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Hm, okay. When it comes to pride, I’m typically very reserved in that regard. However, I was very proud of how This is Who I Am Chapter 5 turned out. I had an idea well before writing it about how I wanted to do a twist on the Mirror Match trope with Steven and Peridot - basically, forcing their light sides to fight off the dark sides of each other, rather than themselves. The more accurate terminology for what I actually pulled off was an inversion of Opponent Switch.

I was very happy how I managed to execute this plot, since so much of it was rigged in the dark sides’ favor and almost insured that only Steven or Peridot would come out of this alive; not both. When it came to Light Steven meeting Dark Peridot, I finally had the opportunity to properly write for Pre-Series Peridot, who I established earlier was a bit of an opportunistic sociopath. I was eager for the chance to make my version of Socio-Peri a legit unsettling psychopath and boy did I revel in it. So, without further ado:

Steven desperately tried to find any trace of hope remaining in this situation. "E-Even if you and him are just the worst things about us made into people, like you said, you are still part of Peridot, 5XG! You're linked, me and the other Steven are linked… and you two shouldn't want to shatter your loved ones, either!"

5XG found herself legitimately enjoying this; savoring Steven's agony and dwindling optimism. It had been far too long since she was able to relish in the pain of another; especially when it resulted in her getting rewarded for it.

"If you're attempting to argue that we don't have a single iota of contempt for one another, I suggest you spare us any more of your unacceptable stupidity by jumping off this platform and descend into the abyss where you belong," she said in a sharp tone. "You'll recall I absolutely despised you for quite some time before my weaker self got the better of me. Past-tense or not, it is a fact you cannot deny. Therefore, it is part of me. Consider it as valid as the fact that, regardless of tense and however I changed over time, I am and always will be a murderer."

"NO!"

Steven was completely shaken up, now driven to tears and cowering away from the Peridot who was his adversary long before becoming his soulmate.

"Please, don't!" he urged. "I've forgiven her already! I-I never hated her for–"

"You hate murderers," 5XG stated in a calm, neutral, but very firm tone that was sharp enough to cut Steven off. "Anyone who takes the life of another, you hate on principle. The cause or circumstance is of no concern to you and never has been."

Steven swore his blood ran freezing cold for a moment after taking in those words. He was stunned to the point of being unable to rebuke any of this.

"The Bismuth told me how events played out when you first met her," 5XG added, readily rubbing salt into the wound. "After knowing by this point how the Diamond Authority were responsible for committing multiple acts of global genocide, how this very planet was on that list, and were prone to shattering members of their own court on a misdemeanor or even on a whim. You were aware of all of this."

Steven squinted his eyes, trying his best to shut away any more tears. He tried to turn away from 5XG; his entire body was shivering while his hands balled up into fists. "P-Please, stop…"

"Yet you admonished the Bismuth for daring to create weapons made for wiping out an enemy with lethal force; legitimate ways to justifiably defend yourself against an enemy you know would not hesitate to take your life if they had an opening. You stood there, and you actually labeled her as one who is completely indistinguishable from White, Blue, or Yellow Diamond," 5XG continued; of course she wouldn't honor his request. "A loyal ally of your maternal unit whose focus was always on doing her best to defend her friends and loved ones, who only fought when forced to by the Homeworld gems… to her face, you belittled her convictions and you said there was no difference between her and the maniacal, genocidal dictators that you yourself were defending against along with your loved ones – just as the Bismuth herself. I honestly don't blame her for trying to kill you that day. You should have died."

5. Share one of your strengths.

Phew... this one’s a little awkward for me. I know one thing I’m objectively good at is writing insanely long shit that is at least good enough to compel people to lose sleep or pull all-nighters as they strive to finish it. I can at least safely say that because nearly every goddamn reviewer I’ve ever had has gone out of their way to mention this. Even if they don’t review, if I ever have a chance to talk to them personally, they’re normally gonna let me know they sacrificed many hours of sleep because of me :P 

But really, I’m consistently praised for expanding on characters or concepts that canon either could have touched on more or barely touched at all. Some people have gained newfound appreciation for characters they didn’t care about or even hated because of my portrayals, and that’s pretty damn empowering to hear. I’ll often get remarks along the lines of me taking a character and “really making them my own” - in a positive way. Sometimes I have plot twists that are complete and utter batshit on paper, but then I’ll get commended for making it completely believable to the point where readers tell me they wish it was actually canon. 

So, that’s enough of a strength, I would say. I can reach really far and still make an AU story sound like it could have easily fit in canon even if my ideas are ones the staff won’t touch with a 10-mile pole.

10.  Which fic has been the easiest to write?

rsilgjdgkljdgsjgahhahhhh, that’s not as easy a question as you might think! Every story has given me a hurdle or two. 

I think by default, I’m gonna say it’s Peri-dise: The Capitalist Anarchy. Because while I put my own spin on it and added a lot of things to make a proper story out of it, Peridot’s little Citystate session was almost exactly to the letter like a certain one by GrayStillPlays. So a lot of the heavy lifting was already done for me in that regard. Still made sure to add plenty to it just to ensure it wasn’t SOLELY just a retelling of that video with some name changes.

And that takes care of my first big ask! Hopefully those were satisfactory answers. I’ll... TRY and get to another before I pass out. Really wasn’t fair of CN to drop this leak on the same day I’d have to contend with 3 hours of Monday Night RAW...

#answered asks #nobynaga #meme #fanfiction #writing

[kitty35]

Our Field

Lee Felix x Reader - War AU (A/n - First, for those who requested stuff, I’m posting some of them tomorrow so don’t worry! Second, this is based off Steven Universe so if it sounds familiar then that’s why)

Type - some fluff, some angst

Warnings - violence, death, blood, rebelling, things of that nature

Summary - “The common folk say this one is a Gardenia.” His smile was soft and held so much sincerity, “You look beautiful with it.” My cheeks turned pink as my eyes widened - my mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Sir, I- Sir, this isn’t-“ I couldn’t find the words and stuttered for a second before he gently placed a finger under my chin, making me go quiet.

~~

For a second the world seemed to stop as I stood where I last saw him. I wasn’t sure if I was breathing quickly or not at all. Baby’s Breath and Gardenia plants crawled up the broken down ships and machines only to mingle and live with the green vines that were already there. So much life now lived right here. Right where nothing used to grow only so little ago.

Right where I lost him.

“Hey, are you okay?” I heard Woojin ask as he placed a hand on my shoulder. This seemed to pull me from my trance as I turned to look at him. He was older then me and yet he always followed every single one of my orders diligently.

“I-“ I paused while looking down to the flowers once more, “I don’t know.” The words were just whispers on my lips but in the quiet meadow, they were clear. I crouched down and gently touched one of the white flowers.

“What are we doing here?” He asked as I stood back up and walked around slowly. He followed a little behind me.

“You know, this is where it all started.” Woojin knew what I was talking about but he let me continue since I’ve never talked about it so openly and calmly before. “This is where Felix and I started the rebellion how ever many years ago.” I chuckled slightly, “He was always so infatuated by this place - by the land and how everything grew and thrived. It’s funny, almost. How such a small thought - something that was never meant to be said - turned into all this.” As I spoke about the past, my mind began to wonder.

“Sir! Please slow down!” I called out to my leader, who I was set to look after, while running to catch up to him.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He asked once I was at his side. I hadn’t realized that we now stood in a field of white flowers. The sight of it took my breath away. The bright whites on top of the crisp greens. How the air smelled sweet and fresh. The dull blue sky that was still so beautifully clear.

“Yes, it is.” I mumbled as he leaned down. In his hand laid a white flower that I’d never seen before. Felix walked closer to me and smiled before reaching over and placing it in my hair. I noticed the sparkles in his eyes as he stared at me for a few seconds.

“The common folk say this one is a Gardenia.” His smile was soft and held so much sincerity, “You look beautiful with it.” My cheeks turned pink as my eyes widened - my mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Sir, I- Sir, this isn’t-“ I couldn’t find the words and stuttered for a second before he gently placed a finger under my chin, making me go quiet.

“It’s okay. I know this isn’t how we’re supposed to live.” His voice seemed sad as he spoke. His eyes left mine and went to my lips for only a second before falling to the floor. They didn’t stay there for long and he was soon looking back at the scenery once more. “But please, can I have this? If only for a few seconds?” Very gently - very hesitantly - I reached for his hand and linked out pinkies together. His eyes traveled to our hands before going back to my eyes.

“Of course…Felix.” It felt weird to call him by his name, but something about it felt right. Our foreheads pressed together as he smiled.

“I wish we could save this. After we expand, nothing will live here anymore. It’ll just be dead space.” His eyes sparkled with a plan as they bored into mine, “Let’s stop them.”

Those three words threw me off. I didn’t know it then but those three words would change my whole life in just seconds. I knew I only had two choices for an answer and he knew what would happen if I wasn’t with him. I could turn him in to the government and they would get rid of the threat, or I could say-

“Okay.”

“It was such an insane idea at the time. Trying to stop expansion. We only had each other and nothing else.” I sat down on the grass and Woojin sat with me. “But it took off and people began to follow and fight. Soon we meet you and Chan and Jisung and the others. We didn’t look like much but hell, we fought like we didn’t care if we died.”

“I don’t think we did care.” Woojin chuckled slightly.

“Yeah.” I breathed out. “Do you remember Felix’s first speech before the first real fight?”

“How could anyone forget?” He was right, how could anyone forget that day?

“Are you sure about this? You don’t have to do this.” Felix asked softly, his back facing me.

“What do you mean?” He turned to face me and I paused. His face was covered in guilt.

“You have to understand the situation we’re in.” Despite the almost harsh words he said, he still spoke in a soft and loving tone. “If we loose, we’ll be killed and if we win, we can never go home.”

“Why would I want to go home, when you’re here?” I laced our hands together and looked up to him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered as our foreheads pressed together. I closed my eyes and smiled at the proximity. Slowly, one of his hands left mine and cupped my chin to lightly tilt my head so he could place a kiss to my cheek.

“And so are you.” For a few more seconds we stayed like that before people outside the tint we were in began to cheer and call for their leader. “We’re in this together.”

“Till our last breath.” He whispered then pulled away. Once he turned around and walked out the tint, he was a different man. He wasn’t my Felix, he was the leader of this rebellion. The leader it needed.

“Today we fight.” He started, “Not for tomorrow but for the future. For our children's future and for their children’s future!” He went on as the fight drew nearer and nearer - closer and closer.

“Can I ask you something?” Woojin asked softly.

“Of course.”

“What was he to you?” The question made me pause.

“He was my everything. Everything I ever did, I did for him” I wouldn’t sugar coat it because my words were true. “I wouldn’t even be alive if it wasn’t for him. He cared and fought for me when I couldn’t. I’d always do the same for him. He truly kept our promise. I’m not exaggerating when I say, he really was - and still is - my everything.”

“What was the promise?”

“To love each other till our last breath.”

“FELIX!” I screamed as I watched him fall to his knees. Blood began to pour from his chest as I grabbed his face. “No, no, no, please, no.” I begged and begged while picking him up and trying to find someone - anyone - who could help him.

“(Y/n).” He breathed out when I began to panic. I looked down to him before setting him down and trying to stop the blood, not even sure how this happened despite having watched it unfold just seconds ago.

“You’re okay. It’s going to be okay.” I put so much pressure on his chest that I was sure it was hard for him to breath. But I didn’t care. As long as he made it out alive.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered as his bloody hand reached up to rest on my tear covered cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you longer. That I couldn’t love you longer.”

“No, don’t say that. You’re going to make it.”

“Please, don’t lie to me in my last seconds to see you.” Those words shattered me. “Let me hold you, one last time.” Instantly I brought him into my arms and hugged him, not caring that we were both covered in blood. Not caring that the field we laid in seemed to taunt us. The place that once brought me so much joy - the place Felix first brought me - now just laughed. Everything was dying. The grass was gone and the sky seemed to be a permanent red color. No flowers or vines were able to grow anymore due to the stomping of soldiers and the blood of battle.

“I love you Felix.” I kept repeating the phrase over and over again while grasping onto him for dear life. Grasping onto him as if it would save him.

It didn’t.

He pulled back and gave me one final kiss goodbye. I kissed back. I wanted it to last forever but it didn’t. His lips stopped moving against mine and his head fell back. My eyes opened to see my love dead in my arms. I laid him down and fell into his chest. My hands gripped his shirt and I refused to let go of him, not believing this was happening. I felt as if I let go then he might really be dead - so I held on. “(Y/N)!” I heard Chan screaming at me - yelling to let go and to get up and fight, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t till he physically ripped me from Felix and shoved a weapon in my hand that I realized where I truly was. That I realized what had to be done. I finished the battle with my loves blood covering my body, painting the floor with others, and leading us to our goal.

From that day on, I was the leader.

“I didn’t know that.”

“No one besides Chan and now you know it.” I whispered while staring at the sky. “This field that we worked so hard to defend. This is where it started, where he ended, and where the war ended.”

“Wow.”

“I know.” It was quiet, “I miss him. I don’t think a single day goes by where I don’t. I wonder what he would say right now if he was here.”

“I’m sure he’d tell you he loves you.” Woojin mumbled, “He seemed to truly love you.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, my hand pulling at a small gardenia and bringing it up to my nose before placing it in my hair. With a deep breath, I laid back and let the day consume me. It truly felt is if he were right there with me in our field.

#stray kids #stray babies #stray kids felix reactions #stray kids felix imainges #stray kids felix scenarios #stray kids felix x reader #stray kids felix #stray kids lee felix #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #lee felix imagine #lee felix x reader #lee felix #lee felix stray kids #lee felix reactions #lee felix imagines #lee felix scenarios #lee felix fanfic #felix stray kids #felix imagine #felix x reader #Felix #felix reactions #felix scenarion #reactions #imagine #scenarios #fanfiction #fantasy

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4085 Soulmate au: The one where you have a mark on your body that expands until you meet your soulmate

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 191: Madara/Tobirama

When he was young Tobirama paid little attention to the dots of color on his face. They didn’t hurt or impede his fun in any way and lots of the adults around him had some sort of color on their skin too. If it wasn’t unusual he didn’t see a point in worrying over it and if he wasn’t worrying about it then he didn’t see a point in asking many questions. The dots spread out across his face so gradually he hardly noticed until one day he looked in the mirror and saw lines instead.

He went, of course, to the one person he knew he could trust with any question.

“They’re part of your soul mark,” Hashirama told him. “Everyone has something. See? Here’s mine!” His brother kicked off one shoe and pulled down his stocking to show off the splash of green painted along the bottom of his foot, something Tobirama had seen many times before yet never thought to question.

“But they’re getting bigger.”

“Yeah, of course, that’s what they do!”

Tobirama blinked, bringing a hand up to cup one of his cheeks and squeezing the lingering baby fat with worry. “So they won’t ever stop growing? What if they cover me everywhere? Then I’ll be red all over!”

“Um…that can happen, yeah. Remember the Lady Yamanaka?”

He certainly remembered the Lady Yamanaka, a prominent figure at court until swirls of blue began to creep up from below her collar and her father sent her away back to the family estate. At the time Tobirama hadn’t understood why, nor had he cared, and even now that he knew the reason he still wasn’t sure he knew why she needed to be sent away. If the colors were their soul marks then why was it bad for them to be seen? Should he be hiding his own?

“Why didn’t her father want anyone to see her colors? Lots of people’s colors show all the time.”

“It’s kind of hard to explain. With the common folk its fine to let your soul mark grow but for the important people, well, Mama says we’re supposed to be better than the common folk. We’re supposed to have everything they don’t.” Hopping around trying to stuff his foot back in to his stocking, Hashirama gave an inelegant shrug. “If your mark is still growing then it means you haven’t found your soulmate yet. I guess some people are ashamed of that.”

“But why?”

“I dunno. People do a lot of silly things. Do you want to come climb the apple trees with me in the orchard?” Hashirama beamed at him, all innocence and easy distraction.

Still patting at his own cheek Tobirama frowned. “You’ll get in trouble if you spoil your clothes again. Father says that a prince must always look his best.”

“Do you want to come or not?”

“Yes, Anija.”

Willing to forget such questions if his big brother didn’t think it was important enough to keep talking about, Tobirama allowed the older boy to take hold of one wrist and pull him away towards the other end of the palace where the apple trees grew so tall they could climb to the top and look over in to the courtyards where strong knights practiced their sword work.

Over the years as he grew Tobirama managed to ask his other questions but he never quite managed to ignore the way his marks continued to grow. Unlike others he was lucky enough to have his marks begin on his face and expand downwards where no one but he and his closest family would even see how far they had reached. When he was younger he made a habit of checking every day to see how the lines had grown, trying to predict which direction they might swoop or curl towards next, but as he grew older he fell out of the habit.

Partly because staring at one’s own skin could only be entertaining for so long before it got old. The lines would never stop growing until he met his soulmate and whatever shapes they made had little impact on his everyday life. But also partly out of fear, out of a quiet sort of terror that one day he would wake to find that the lines close to his wrists would expand and slip through the cuffs of his silken shirts to prove for the world that he was doomed to spend the rest of his life alone. And despite his older brother’s assurances Tobirama was quite certain he would spend his life alone just as his younger brother Itama.

Poor sweet Itama, born with hair as white as Tobirama’s only have it darken strand by strand in the inevitable expansion of his own unique mark, locked away from the moment their parents realized the shame he would always wear. How they could ever expect him to find his soulmate was a mystery when his only contacts were the brothers that visited him and the servants who were each instructed to never look upon him.

It was in Itama that Tobirama found most of his comfort when the looming dread of not finding his own match could not be pushed to the back of his mind any longer and it was to Itama’s rooms that he retreated on the day of his nineteenth birthday when he discovered something horrifying. His brother lifted both eyebrows in question to see Tobirama burst in to and throw himself across the mattress with almost as much drama as they could usually expect from their eldest sibling.

“This will be my life,” Tobirama declared.

“Something is wrong, I take it?” Itama closed the journal he had been writing in but otherwise didn’t move.

“My marks are moving again. Up my throat. I thought the one around the base of my neck was finished growing, I thought I was fine with high collars, but now it’s extending and you know what Father will do if it gets high enough for the court to see it.” Rolling over on to his back, Tobirama scowled up at the ceiling. He’d always known this was a possibility. “At least I’ll have you for company.”

A very deep silence stretched out after his words, long enough that he wondered if he had spoken aloud as he meant to or if the words were only inside his head. When he looked over at his brother, however, Itama’s cheeks had gone a very hilarious shade of blotchy red. He’d never been a graceful blusher.

“Um…about that…” His hesitant words had Tobirama upright in an instant.

“What about that?”

“I think – and this is only speculation, I have not yet confirmed – I think I may have found my soulmate.”

“You–? Are you being serious?” When Itama nodded all the air left Tobirama’s lungs in a great whoosh. “Ita that is incredible. Why have you not said anything? How are sitting in here writing so calmly? If I had found my match I would be, I don’t know, probably shoving it in Father’s face for starters.”

His brother laughed and brought his journal up to hug it against his chest. “Like I said, I’m not certain yet. You know I keep a close eye on my hair and I think there haven’t been any new dark strands for several days but I need to ask…the other person first if they’ve experienced the same thing.” He looked fit to burst with excitement and it was clear how relieved he was to have someone else to talk to about this.

Tobirama ran a hand throw his own hair and stood up to walk across the room and take Itama in to his arms for a rare gesture of familial affection. His sibling melted against him with a smile.

“Congratulations. May I know who? I can’t imagine anyone new you might have met.”

“Ah. That would be the other reason I’d like to be sure before going public. I don’t think Father will be thrilled to find out that one of his sons is matched to someone of the common folk.”

“Right!” A light went off in Tobirama’s memories. “Your old caretaker, she retired. One of the new servants then – they were both men, yes?”

“Yes. Two brothers around your age.” If Itama held any more excitement inside his short body he would surely begin to vibrate. It was the happiest Tobirama could remember seeing his brother in years and the sight warmed his heart perhaps a little more than he would ever admit to out loud.

Stepping back to clear his throat and pretend he was not getting disgustingly emotional, Tobirama nodded. “I’m very happy for you. If it’s alright with you I should like to stay and meet him.”

Itama saw no reason to object to that and so Tobirama settled in. Of the three brothers allowed to roam the rest of the palace he was the one best at keeping his mouth shut about other people’s personal business. There was no one better in the entire city to trust with the secret of Itama’s possible soulmate. A prince and a pauper; it amused him greatly that despite all of the king’s efforts to hide his son away from the world it had still been him to send the boy his own soulmate.

The two of them had been chatting quietly for somewhat more than an hour before there came a knock on the door and when it opened at Itama’s call a young man entered with his gaze lowered and black hair cascading around him in thick spikes. Tobirama looked to his brother with a knowing grin that faded as quickly as it came when Itama quietly shook his head no.

Yet he couldn’t help but look again even if this wasn’t the one he was so curious to meet. Over the years he had met with lords and ladies of every station and from many lands and here was a mere servant boy more beautiful than them all. The world around him almost seemed to fade away for a few moments as he watched the boy move across the room, his almost regal mane of hair billowing out behind him like a fine cloak, long lashes sweeping against rounded cheeks each time he blinked. Even the strangely clumsy way he walked as though ready to trip over his own feet at any given moment was oddly charming.

After several long moments of staring Tobirama forced himself to look away – only to find Itama watching him with one hand in front of his mouth to muffle the laughter shaking his shoulders.

“Keep laughing, brother,” Tobirama snarled. “I’ll dye your hair pink again.”

“You know I always enjoy a little zest in my day,” Itama retorted.

Sniffing with exaggerated haughtiness, Tobirama shoved his nose as high in the air as he could without blocking his view of where he was going and made his way to the door. Then he realized he’d just made a fool of himself as a first impression for the pretty servant boy and very quickly did his best to look like he was hurrying somewhere important rather than running away in embarrassment.

Curiosity wouldn’t allow him to stay away for long and as soon as he had seen to his duties for the day Tobirama was back in Itama’s room and being introduced to the young man his sibling believed was his soulmate. Izuna, as was apparently his name, had smooth dark hair pulled back in to a long tail and narrow eyes Tobirama couldn’t help but think were made for glaring at the backs of anyone who spoke down to him simply for being born in to the lower caste. He was a perfectly polite man and yet every word he spoke was covered with layers of deeper thought that hinted at an intelligence any noble could only hope for in their own children.

And he also, evidently, had noticed his own soul mark was no longer growing soon after meeting the hidden prince he had been called upon to serve. One surreptitious glance at Itama’s hair was all it had taken for him to know for sure. In the midst of that revelation Tobirama slipped away again to give the two of them some privacy. The few short minutes he’d had to meet with Izuna and take in all the information he could was enough time for him to guess that the boy would be good for Itama and he hoped they were already thinking of ways to curb the King’s inevitable anger when he discovered their match.

Despite all the excitement of his brother’s good news, however, neither Itama nor Izuna were the one that stayed on his mind for the rest of the evening. Instead he found himself constantly distracted with thoughts of the beautiful servant boy he had seen that morning. All through the rest of his evening he thought about shoulders that held themselves proudly despite his station and how all that dark hair would look wrapped around pale white fingers. Memories of thick lashes followed him down in to his dreams and haunted him still when he woke the morning after.

He had to see the boy again.

Tobirama himself barely counted as a boy anymore, fresh past his nineteenth birthday, but knowing the immaturity rampant in his own age group it was hard to think of any of them as men quite yet so it hardly mattered whether the pretty servant was younger or older. He was still pretty.

It was with him in mind and the situation that led to them meeting that made Tobirama check his markings, little more than a wistful whim that morning. He hadn’t looked at the lines on his body any earlier than yesterday so it was easy to dismiss the idea that they didn’t seem to have grown any more. Clearly that was nothing but a figment of his own imagination, purely wishful thinking. Tobirama scoffed at his own reflection and told himself coincidences like that just didn’t happen.

Of course, because he very sternly told himself that he should forget about this, obviously it was the only thing on his mind for the next several days. Each morning he woke the first thing he did was strip and inspect every line he could find on his body to see if any of them were moving. His skin had many lines and from experience he knew that not all of them grew at the same time or rate. After several days he began to think that maybe he hadn’t actually overreacted at all. Nearly a week without finding a single line on his body that had moved so much as a fraction of an inch had to mean something.

Which meant that now he had to go talk to the one he thought might be his soulmate. There was a chance it wasn’t the boy he wanted it to be, unfortunately. New faces were always showing up in his father’s court and Tobirama didn’t usually take the time to memorize all of them or even remember their names, not when he knew they would be gone again in just a few day or weeks, however long it took their parents to realize he and his other unattached brother Kawarama were not interested. But there was only one way to find out for sure whether the soulmate picked for him by fate was a random unwanted stranger or a beautiful serving boy and that was to actually go ask awkward questions.

He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing when he entered Itama’s rooms to see his sibling cross legged on the floor with both his own soulmate and the one Tobirama had been hoping to find here. All three boys turned to look at him, two lowering their gazes on reflex as soon as they recognized a member of the royal family, but Itama only smiled.

“You’ll never guess what a little birdie told me,” he said. At his side the one Tobirama had come to see turned bright red and dipped his face a bit lower.

“I’m sure it was fascinating and very embarrassing for everyone but that’s not what I am here for.”

“Oh?” Itama lifted both brows in a smug expression that Tobirama did his best not to speculate about.

Forcing himself to retain the poise he had been trained to uphold since birth, he turned to the servant boy with hair pooling around him on the floor like black ink. “Considering the happy news I’m sure these two would appreciate as much alone time as they can steal. May I speak with you elsewhere?”

Judging by the flabbergasted look on the boy’s face he’s never had anyone of high standing request to speak with him as though he had some sort of choice in the matter. Very likely he was used to nobles demanding things from him without a single thought for the idea that he might also be human with real human feelings to consider. Tobirama, thankfully, had been blessed with a mind strong enough to think beyond the haughty lessons his parents had taught him as a child.

Rather than spill his mind right there in the hallway, he waited to make sure the boy was following and then led them to another room in Itama’s private wing where only servants and the royal family ever came. The room he chose was plush and comfortable with several places to sit but he was much too restless to take advantage of the many couches available.

“What is your name?” he asked, unsure of where to start.

“Madara, if it pleases your Highness.”

“I’m not sure how I could be pleased or displeased. It’s just a name.” Tobirama frowned in confusion that cleared immediately when he spotted the smallest twitch of Madara's lips.

The boy was laughing at him. He knew most members of the court would be insulted to have one of the common folk laughing at their social stumbling but for him it eased the tension in his shoulders. He could work with this. Laughing at him was better than cowering away in fear.

“My name is Tobirama.” Obviously every citizen in the kingdom would know the name of their second prince but it was only polite to introduce himself. “Do you know your soulmate, Madara?”

“I believe I have found him, my lord.”

“There’s no need for formalities here,” Tobirama murmured.

“What shall I call your Highness?” Madara asked. His lips were slowly turning up in to an honest smile, making it much harder to look anywhere else.

Doing nothing to hide his own smile, Tobirama huffed. “My name should suffice unless you can think of something you would rather call me. Anything but a diminutive of the name itself. I abhor when any my brothers refers to me as ‘Tobi’.”

“You had something you wished to speak to me about?”

Clearing his throat, he flushed. He did have something rather important on his mind. The problem lay in the fact that he had no idea how to actually bring it up without being as blunt as Hashirama when he discovered his own match. Although there was a small amount of comfort in knowing that he could never quite manage to top the disaster that was Hashirama tripping in to poor Mito and crying out in horror that he thought he’d broken his own soulmate when they tumbled to the floor.

“I think we’re soulmates.” Blurting out his thoughts without any effort towards a lead in or a buffer of some sort was apparently the embarrassment he had chosen for his own experience.  To his surprise Madara did not mock him but cleared his throat in a gruff sort of way, gaze flicking repeatedly down to the floor.

“His Highness, your brother, thinks we might be as well. Izuna mentioned to him – I told him not to – he mentioned that my mark had stopped growing the day after I met you.” Madara's nose wrinkled. “Which is sort of nice. It was getting big, I was getting worried it would take over.”

Tobirama blinked at him slowly. “Just the one mark?”

“Do you have more than one?”

“I have…dozens. Everywhere.” It would have been nice to only have one soul mark to keep track of rather than an entire body to check over meticulously every time he got curious.

“Wow. Dozens? That’s…wow. I don’t know anyone who has that many,” Madara said. His eyes very slowly and very obviously slid down the length of Tobirama’s form, curiosity prominent on his face until he suddenly turned very red and abruptly returned his gaze to the floor when he realized he was essentially ogling a prince.

Not that Tobirama exactly minded the idea of Madara ogling him.

“If you would feel comfortable showing me your mark I would like to know for sure whether we are soulmates.”

“We are.”

Brows furrowed, Tobirama lifted one of them in question. “You sound quite sure of that.”

“Some of your marks are on your face. I knew the moment I looked at you for the first time that we were matched.” Madara bit down on both of his lips to keep the laughter from bursting out of him but it did not stop his entire face from shining with mirth. Tobirama was stunned. His face had borne colored lines since his earliest memories; he hadn’t even thought of their revealing nature, that his fated match would know him in the instant they saw his face.

“You’ve known this entire time and you said nothing!?”

“Can you blame someone in my position for being a little cautious?”

That was actually a good point but he was trying just a little too hard not to break down laughing for it to be true and Tobirama was not impressed. Not at all. Maybe a little in love but definitely not impressed.

“You didn’t stay quiet because of our different standings,” he accused.

“No, I didn’t.” With his lips released from the forbidding grip of his teeth he was already smiling widely again. “It was mostly just funny to watch you flail your way through trying to talk about it. His Highness Itama tells me that you are…not as closed off as one might guess from observing you.”

“Which is to say that I’m not as cold as my face looks.”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to say it like that.”

“But that’s how you meant it.”

Madara didn’t deny anything, just bit down on his lower lip again while Tobirama tried not to think about how much he wanted to run his fingers through all of that flowing hair and across those solid shoulders. The universe really knew what it was doing with this match, he decided.

He still did not appreciate being duped so easily.

“Alright, prepare for me to abuse my authority because here is what’s going to happen. You’re going to kiss me and we’re both never going to tell anyone I was stupid enough to forget my own face. Then we’re going to avoid our brothers for as long as possible because obviously they’ll want to gloat and that’s never fun to deal with. Sound good?” Tobirama tried for a stern expression and failed mostly because of the unbridled joy running rampant through his body.

“Yes, that does sound good,” Madara said quietly.

Then he threw himself forward without another word and despite having just demanded a kiss Tobirama was surprised enough that he almost didn’t catch the other boy, a startled moan escaping him when their lips met for the first time.

Later – much later – he would see Madara's soul mark and in an instant he would be certain in the knowledge that this was truly his soulmate, that the concentric circles of black and purple expanding across Madara's back was meant for him. He would also sit through several hours of gentle teasing from his three brothers as well as not so gentle teasing from Madara's four brothers and endure endless pained glances from his parents as they came to terms with the idea that two of their sons were bound by the fates to members of the common folk.

From that very first kiss, however, he knew that it would all be worth it. And he was right.

#rae writes #soulmate collection #madatobi #madara #tobirama #itama #fanfiction #this one is so much longer than i meant it to be xD

[bedlamsbard]

Since it is a Rebels Day of Sorrow, and I’m not currently actively working on this story, I’ll go ahead and post this Ezra scene (from the story that must not be named, part of my S4 AU) that starts in the middle of A World Between Worlds and is otherwise, well...pretty classic Bedlam.

2.8K below the break.

I’ve been here before.

It was Ezra’s first thought when he opened his eyes, his head spinning and his whole body aching as if he had put his finger in a power socket.  In a way he supposed he had, if you substituted the Force for electricity.

The sky above him was a particular clear blue, cloudless, with a pair of twin suns burning down on him. Ezra stared up at them in bewilderment until he started to see spots, then grimaced and turned his gaze away. He picked himself up off the rocky ground; somehow sand had already gotten inside his gloves and the neck of his stolen bodysuit.  It was coarse and bitter between his teeth; Ezra spat to clear his mouth and regretted it a moment later even as the sands swallowed up the sputum, the dark trace of the moisture vanishing almost immediately.

A desert planet with twin suns, he heard Maul’s voice say in his head, and looked hastily around, his hand falling to the lightsaber he had hidden inside his stolen armor.  But there was no one else to be seen, just an endless expanse of rolling desert that seemed to go on in every direction.  There was no doorway, either, nothing to show how Ezra had arrived here or how to get back.  There was only a small disturbance in the sand where he must have landed and laid for a time before regaining consciousness.

This was bad.  This was really, really bad.

Maybe if he wandered around long enough Master Kenobi would find him again, but Tatooine was an entire planet, and Ezra had no way to know if he had landed anywhere near the place he had last time.

He rubbed at gritty, already dry eyes, then started to strip out of his scout trooper armor.  It was rated for a Lothal winter, not Tatooine’s endless summer, and he was going to roast to death if he kept wearing it. Beneath it he had kept his regular clothes; Ezra freed his lightsaber from its makeshift casing in the armor and clipped it to his belt, feeling a little better at having it easily to hand. Not that there was anyone around to use it on.  At this point he would have even welcomed an attack by the Sand People, just to let him know that there was someone else around here.

It was tempting to pick a direction at random to start walking, but Ezra had something a little better than mere chance on his side.  Wincing at the feel of the hot sand burning through his trousers, he sat down, closed his eyes, and opened himself to the Force.

I need shelter, he thought.  I need somewhere I can get food and water – especially water – and a way off this rock.  I need to find out why the Force brought me here.

And then he had to go back to Lothal.  That was his fight, and if the Force didn’t understand that – but the Force had let him into the Temple in the first place, and there had to be a reason for that. He clung stubbornly to that despite the fact that the events of the past few days had shown that the Force didn’t necessarily have to have a reason for anything.

Yeah, but there’s a dark side of the Force too, and right now it seems like it’s been calling the shots.

With an effort he pushed his grief and bitterness aside, letting emotion drain out of him like water through sand.  Empty, he sat in the light of the burning suns, and let the Force flow through him.

There.

It was a direction, nothing more.  Ezra was aware of the Force moving around him in unfamiliar currents, something about it subtly different in a way that he didn’t – couldn’t – understand.  Maybe Ka –

No.

His skin was already beginning to redden as he unfolded his legs and pushed to his feet.  With a last look around at the wasteland surrounding him, hoping for and not seeing some kind of landmark to make certain he could find his way back here, Ezra started to walk.

*

He walked for a long time, only subconsciously aware of the twin suns slowly moving across the horizon. Each step blurred into the next, time both compressing into a single unending interval of heat and exhaustion and the slow spread of sunburn and expanding until Ezra felt that he had been here for hours, days, years.  He didn’t dare stop even to rest, not without shelter; the suns would roast him alive one way or another and they might as well do it walking.  He ended up pulling his jacket off and wrapping it around his head as a kind of turban, giving him some protection from the blistering suns, but it didn’t help much.  He could feel the Force shifting around him, protecting him, guiding him, but he didn’t know if the half-trance he had fallen into with each trudging step was due to it or the suns or the slow slide of time.

It was a shock when he stumbled up to the edge of a cliff and nearly fell over it, catching himself at the last moment.  A few pebbles trickled over the edge, bouncing heavily down the steep slope. Ezra put a hand up to shade his eyes, not entirely certain that he was seeing something real and not an illusion. There was a settlement down in the valley below him, a big one by Lothal’s standards and he was assuming by Tatooine’s as well, since it had even less of a population than Lothal.  As he watched, a starship landed and another took off; squinting, Ezra could make out the shape of spaceport hangar bays.

He let out his breath in a low sigh of relief.  The last time he had come to Tatooine he had spent some time looking up information on the planet, even though he had ended up never visiting any of the settlements; this had to be one of them.

It took him some time to find a way down into the valley, but he managed it eventually, trekking down a worn dirt path that showed the passage of people and animals.  There was no city gate or regulated road into the city; Ezra simply walked in, startled by the press of people after the calm, still silence of the desert.  He resisted the urge to throw himself on the nearest of them and demand water; instead, he let himself move among them, following the ebb and flow of the crowd like a leaf carried by a stream.  He wished there was a stream, but he didn’t think there was any such thing to be found anywhere on the planet.

Eventually he followed a group of Nikto into a cantina.  Trying to look as if he belonged, Ezra made his way up to the bar and ordered a blue milk and, apparently as an afterthought, a glass of water, digging a credchip out of his pocket to pay for it.  The bartender took the credchip from him and started to move away, then stopped suddenly and frowned at it, holding it up to the cracked lamp by the shelved bottles.  He turned back to Ezra with sudden violence that made Ezra draw back, startled.

“What is this?” he demanded. “Some kind of joke?”  He threw the credchip back on the bar in front of Ezra.  “You want a drink, you pay with real money.”

Ezra picked the credchip up and turned it over between his fingers, but aside from the regular nicks and scratches of wear and tear it looked exactly like every other credchip he had ever seen, down to the Imperial seal on the back. “This is real money.”

“You want me to bring the Hutts in?” the bartender said, one hand vanishing beneath the bar – either for a weapon or a comlink Ezra couldn’t tell. “Get out!  And don’t come back!”

“Okay, okay!” Ezra said, stuffing the credchip back into his pocket and holding up his hands.  The bartender and a few of the other patrons watched him suspiciously all the way out of the cantina.

He winced as he stepped back into the hot sun, the heat like a blast furnace after a few moments in the relative cool of the cantina.  He licked dry, cracked lips, thinking about what to do next, but if his money wasn’t good here – some Outer Rim planets, even the ones nominally under Imperial control, could get weird – then he’d have to find someone else’s.  Ezra hadn’t had to pick pockets in a while, but it wasn’t as though he’d forgotten how.

He drifted through the crowds for a few minutes, keeping an eye out for someone who looked like having their purse lifted wouldn’t be more than a mild inconvenience.  When he finally found one, a prosperous-looking Rodian, Ezra didn’t even have to use the Force, just moved with the rest of the passersby and slipped the man’s purse off his belt so smoothly he doubted the Rodian would even notice until he tried to pay for something.  He kept walking unhurriedly until he spotted the dubious shelter of a narrow alley, then ducked down it, relieved to find that no one else had had the same idea.

Ezra transferred most of the contents of the Rodian’s purse to his own pockets, then examined one credchip. It looked like the one he had offered the bartender – same size, same weight, probably the same metal content. Ezra turned it over in his hand, rubbing his thumb against the Imperial seal, then stopped abruptly.

Instead of the Imperial seal, the symbol on the back was different, something he had only seen a handful of times before – on old military surplus equipment Phoenix Squadron had acquired, and on the ruined droid ship back on Agamar.  It was the old Separatist symbol.

Ezra knew that there were still old Republic credits in circulation, though by Imperial law they were only worth about ten percent of the equivalent Imperial currency. Confederate credits, on the other hand, were worthless.  This credchip didn’t look like it was old enough to be from the Clone Wars, though, and when Ezra checked the date it was recent.  Since the Confederacy of Independent Systems hadn’t existed since before Ezra had been born, that didn’t make any sense at all.  And the date –

For the first time, Ezra remembered that the gateways led not only to all sorts of places, but to all sorts of times, too.  He’d – Ahsoka had come from the battle at Malachor.  If he’d – come out – at some other time, not just somewhere else –

But the date on the credchip was recent, and it was by Imperial reckoning, not Republic reckoning. The Emperor had reorganized the calendar when he had taken the throne, and this didn’t look like what Ezra knew of Republic reckoning.  So –

Ezra had absolutely no idea what that meant.

He dropped the Rodian’s purse in the street after he had stepped out of the alley, heading for the first cantina he could see.  Hopefully they’d take the money; Ezra didn’t feel like he could think without something to drink.

This cantina was much bigger than the last one, and probably doubled as a hotel or caravanserai going by its size.  Ezra cautiously ordered the same thing he had at the last cantina; the bartender didn’t give his credits a second glance, and Ezra gratefully slurped down the water and, more slowly, the blue milk, then ordered a plate of the special and another glass of water.  As he was making his way through the food and feeling a few of his higher brain functions return, the bartender leaned an elbow on the counter and asked, “You here to meet the other Jedi?  I haven’t seen you in here before.”

Ezra froze, fork halfway to his mouth.  It hadn’t even occurred to him that he was still wearing his lightsaber openly; so few people could actually recognize one these days that he’d gotten used to the idea that no one ever would.

But – other Jedi?

There were no other Jedi. There was just him.  The Empire had seen to that.  Governor Pryce had seen to that.

He made an indeterminate sound that might have been agreement and forced himself to take another bite, just so he wasn’t sitting there looking shocked.  Only after he had chewed and swallowed did he say, “What room are they in again?  That didn’t get passed along,” he added vaguely.

The bartender didn’t seem to notice his uncertainty.  “The suite on the third floor,” he said. “319.”

“Thanks,” Ezra said slowly, his head spinning.  He finished the rest of his food, drained the glass of water, and tipped the bartender with some of his stolen credits.  Well, apparently that money was good here, wherever here was.

The stairs leading to the upper floors were at the back.  Ezra followed them up, finding them clean and well-lit, and emerged onto the third floor.  The suite was easy to find; the door was directly across from the stairs.  Ezra hesitated, staring at it.  He couldn’t sense anyone inside; if there were Jedi staying there, then they weren’t here now.  But that was impossible.  There were no other Jedi, and if there were, they wouldn’t be staying openly at a place like this, even in a galactic armpit like Tatooine.

But if they were Jedi –

He went down the hallway and placed his palm against the door, reaching out with the Force.  There was something here, a faint trace of presence; whoever it was hadn’t been staying here long enough to leave behind anything more significant than that. Ezra reached for the door controls, on the verge of going in and having a look around, then stopped.  If they were Jedi, then breaking in probably wasn’t the best idea.  If they weren’t –

Ezra literally couldn’t think of what would happen then.

Exhausted, he sank down to the floor in front of the door and leaned his head back against it.  He probably should have tried to meditate, but he was too tired. His skin felt scorched from too long in the sun, he had sand in his boots, in his shirt, in his hair, in every conceivable crevice and a few that he hadn’t known he could get sand into, and Ka –

He thumped his head glumly back against the door a few times, trying to bludgeon the thought away. He wasn’t on Lothal, that was what mattered.  He wasn’t on Lothal and he had to get back to Lothal as soon as possible.  He just had to hope these Jedi could help him do that.

Ezra shut his eyes, then opened them again just as hastily, because there it was again, that rising memory of flame and heat and –

He dug the heels of his hands into his forehead, shaking his head back and forth as if he could dislodge the memory.  It was still there, though, all too fresh and all too recent, despite everything that had happened in the past few hours.  Maybe he should have been thinking about that instead, but it was too big to comprehend, too impossible for him to wrap his mind around.

He just had to get back to Lothal.

He sat there for what felt like a long time, half-asleep and trying not to close his eyes, because every time he did he saw it again.  Eventually, though, he felt something in the Force shift, followed by the sound of footsteps on the stairs.  Rubbing a hand over his eyes, trying to force himself back to full awareness, Ezra glanced up to see –

“Ahsoka,” he said, scrambling to his feet, but something was different about her.  Something –

Her armor.  She wasn’t wearing her armor.  And her clothing was different, a dark brownish-red tunic with worked leather tabards in front and covering her thighs, but her lightsabers were the same.

There were several other beings with her, a wiry Mirialan woman with diamonds tattooed across the bridge of her nose and a lightsaber on her hip, and two men behind her in the narrow hallway whom Ezra couldn’t see well enough to identify.

Ahsoka blinked at him in surprise, her gaze taking in his bedraggled appearance and then his lightsaber before she finally looked back at his face.  Recognition showed only belatedly in her eyes.  “Rat,” she said. “What are you doing here?  Did Master Windu send you with a message for us?”

Ezra felt the pit of his stomach drop.  He clenched his hands into fists to try and stop their shaking, but there was a waver in his voice as he said, “Whoever you think I am, I’m not him,” he said.  “I – my name is Ezra Bridger.  I’m a Jedi padawan.  I – I think I’m in the wrong place.”

#cut scenes and concept writing #secret project #all along the watchtower #I'm still well-stressed so...you know #as always comments are appreciated

[ariaadagio]

Aria’s Long List of Lucifer & Deckerstar Fic Recs - Part 3

Hello, all!  Since I completed writing Castaway earlier in September, I’ve finally had a chance to start catching up on my reading list.  I still have tons left to read, but I think I’ve hit critical mass on fics I liked enough to recommend, so I’m back with another round of recs!

These recs are organized by author name and category (for the most part), and the list order is not meant to imply an order of preference.  All recommendations are completed fics unless otherwise noted.  If anyone knows the @ tumblr names for any of the authors I missed tagging, or if I got anything wrong, please let me know.

You can find my other recs posts here (part 1), here (part 2), here (part 4), here (Part 5), and here (part 6).

S3E24 Aftermath Fics

Some Kind of Mysterious by Autumn Rayne

~2300 words

This is a lovely little peek into Chloe’s reaction.  She’s somewhat thrown for a loop and initially pulls back, but as she slowly regains her footing in this new reality, the repeated refrain of “she does not miss Lucifer” becomes increasingly full of denial.  Charming!

It would be for this by Dreamline

~4600 words

Heaven and hell were words to me by nosecoffee ( @nose-coffee )

~2600 words

I’m listing these two stories together because they’re a series of sorts.  The first story is told from Trixie’s POV, which is a great use of dramatic irony.  Because of how the story is constructed, the reader knows far more about what’s going on that Trixie does, which prompts a bit of puzzle solving on the part of the reader, and the result is lovely.  The second story is told from Lucifer’s POV, waking up in the aftermath.  The last few lines in particular are heart-wrenching and perfect.  

Beautiful man with a beautiful face, who was not a man at all by an_earl

~8800 words

An_earl has a lovely, lyrical style of writing that’s captivating.  I enjoyed reading about Chloe, now in the know, considering past events in a new light.  Also, delicious angst so thick you could cut it with a knife.  

Carry On by IceQueen1 ( @disappearinginq )

~5000k words

Chloe reacts.  Lucifer misunderstands said reaction.  Some lovely heartfelt drama ensues.  Perfect all around.

heart to heart (soul to soul) by Lesza ( @spiacooczna )

~3000 words

This story starts with Chloe and Lucifer at odds, but the ice is gradually broken via the use of text messages, which is something I can intimately relate with because I’ve lived it (not the Devil reveal, obviously, but social anxiety that was resolved in a similar way).  This was the first story I read in my current “binge,” and I was captivated from start to finish.  Lovely angst, and the ending will make your heart soar.  

Simpatico by pixelbypixel ( @pixelbypixelfanfic)

~3100 words

For a funny, more off-the-wall approach to post S3, a distraught Lucifer commiserates with Deadpool.  This made me laugh and smile so much, which was something I sorely needed when I read it.

Aftershocks by Subsequent ( @inclines )

~19400 words

A lovely, more light-hearted approach to the “aftershocks” of S3E24.  Chloe deals with being “in the know,” and the gang deals with fixing the mess left behind by Cain.  Lots of humorous touches and great lines, to include everybody quickly being brought into the Lucifer is Lucifer loop. 

 Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by @spirantization

~31,000 words

A series, currently of three works.  I haven’t yet had the opportunity to read the third piece, but the first two are a delight.  Poor Chloe is trying desperately to keep up with her new reality, and failing woefully at every turn.  Meanwhile, in the second story, Lucifer and Maze perpetrate some of the most hysterical sniping and snark at each other that I’ve ever read.  And, of course, there’s M.V.P. Linda, a perennial presence in both stories, trying to referee this whole mess.  I have so much love for this series!

Other Great Reads:

Remedy by IceQueen1 ( @disappearinginq )

~1500 words

Haunting, horrifying, engrossing look at what might happen to Lucifer if someone realized angel feathers could cure human ailments.

Paradiso by @theleafpile

~60000 words

I normally don’t read AUs, particularly not “all human” ones, but this story was basically a giant, “Oh, really?” that proved me wrong at every turn.  I loved this.  Theleafpile has a lyrical, poetic, enchanting writing style that will suck you right in and refuse to let you go, and even with the setting so vastly altered, all of the canonical characters were instantly recognizable and believable in their new incarnations.  Beautiful angst.  Creative storytelling.  Do pay attention to the tags, but absolutely worth a read (or nine).  

That’s How You Know by @notonelineff

~7000 words

A gorgeous established-relationship fic.  Lucifer hasn’t said those big three words, yet, and Chloe is starting to agonize over why that might be.  All of her friends provide her with examples that show, while Lucifer might not say it, he feels it.  Perfect use of ensemble.  Great balance of fluff and angst.  If pining is your happy-place trope, this fic is so for you.

They Who Fight Monsters by @obliobla

~3500 words

Suuuper dark, haunting look at Lucifer as a punisher, which also puts Chloe in an interesting light as she gets sucked into enabling Lucifer’s eye-for-an-eye form of justice.  

Your Smile Makes My Soul Shine by @obliobla

~9500 words

As you all have probably figured out, I am a complete sucker for Lucifer characterizations that fully incorporate the idea that he’s about … a zillion million years old, and has Seen Some Shit (™).  Set in a nebulous time period where Chloe knows the truth, Chloe and Lucifer make a go at dating, and the results are enchanting to read.  Angsty, humorous, heartwarming, sad, lovely, all in one fic, all in perfect balance.  

What Dreams May Come by @pellaaearien

~1000 words

In which Trixie has a nightmare, and Lucifer makes it better.  Just a quick little shot of wingfic fluff that was adorable :)  Guaranteed to make you smile!

Stars by @tarysande

~2300 words

A beautiful, heart-wrenching, heartwarming, sweet, sad character piece that examines Lucifer through Trixie’s eyes.  Deals with Lucifer’s more mythic aspects, namely that he created the stars, with a perfect ending.  Tarysande’s writing style is so easy-to-read and lyrical; I only wish I could replicate it.  

(Don’t) Put Your Arms Around Me by SomeoneAsGoodAsYou (the_wanlorn)

~9500 words.

Another Lucifer & Trixie centric piece that I just love, in which Lucifer disdainfully asks of Linda: “What’s the point of ... hugging?”  Beautifully written look at Lucifer warming up a bit to “the offspring,” and to some of the more touchy-feely quirks of humanity in general.  Lovely Deckerstar moments as well.  The_wanlorn’s characterization of Lucifer (and everyone really) is perfect, and your heart will be so full by the end of this one.  

WIPs worth a mention:

After by Apparition ( @devilish-apparition )

~21000 words

Previously recommended as a one-shot.  The author has since opted to expand into a compelling post S3E24 narrative with some promising, surprising new myth-expansion elements.

City of Fallen Angels by Endelda & NostalgiaKick

~17000 words

A quirky crossover between Lois & Clark: the New Adventures of Superman, and Lucifer.  Set near the end of S1 in Lois & Clark, and near the end of S3 in Lucifer.  The author draws some really interesting parallels between the characters of both shows in this charming, thoughtful piece.  Technically not a WIP, as it is finished, but it is being posted episodically.  

Endless by Destany_Mitchell

~10000 words

If you like Lucifer & Ella friendship, and want to read more world building a la ATWL, this might be a read for you!  The author has chosen to bring in some elements from the comics that are, thus far, super intriguing.  My interest is piqued!

Falling to Fly by FluffyGlitterPantsDragon ( @fluffydragon84 )

~23000 words

This fic!  I have yet to see a more gripping, thoughtful, atmospheric examination of the S3E24 aftermath -- this story delves into the forensics of the crime scene, and the FBI investigation into Cain’s murder.  NOTE: This fic is Lucifer/Dan as the primary ship, so exclusive Deckerstar fans beware, but even if Lucifer/Dan isn’t really your jam, I highly recommend this story for the main plot elements alone.  Sincerely, read this.  It’s worth it.

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