#(also I hope it's okay I tagged you if not let me know so I can delete!)

[thenightshadowqueen]

Thank you so much for the tag! I’m happy that I made people happy.

Okay, so there are so many people I want to tag, but I’ll stick with just a few to avoid making this ridiculously long, so if we’ve interacted and I didn’t tag you, I’m very sorry; I promise you’ve made me happy, too!

@mostlyintact @generaltraitor @spencerreid1234 @marshymallows28 @gldnstrngs

Also, I know you’ve both already been tagged, but the fandom wouldn’t be the same without @i-may-be-an-emu and @youling-the-ghost, so I’m tagging you again; I hope that’s all right!

@animated-scribble @y0ur-f4vor1te-crypt1d @kartsstuffig @44-mr-midnight-44 @silver-eater @free-slug-cat @my-mom-named-me-duck @softenedsunbeams @ccosmicentity @starsofthestorm @jaime-in-chaos @ the person who sent me this (i cant remember your url so sorry man) @ UHM UHM I FORGOT URLS

[strebcr]

Permanent starter call 2025! The electric boogaloo 👍

By liking this, it gives me permission too and you're comfortable with me doing the following:

Come at you with AU’s for our muses

Throw my dumb little goth man at you anytime

Tag You In Stuff that reminds me of our muses

Draw you things occasionally or make you some dumb edits

Plotting possible ships, be it family, friend, rival, enemy, or romantic or just plotting stuff in general. I'm not the best plotter in the world but it's something I'm trying to get better at!

Invade your ask inbox with starters or random interactions. Bare in mind as well, that this goes double for all of you!

You all can send me stuff as well! In fact I hope you do!!

Send you headcanons about our muses

Writing random things for you (that is always free to be ignored, there is never any pressure to reply anything random).

Letting me know it's okay to drop by your DMs with a idea I got or idk just to say hi (and also same can be done to me).

If you're not comfortable with liking this that's fine too! Nothing we've done previously or any interactions we've had in the past will be affected, both IC and OOC whatsoever! This is just for me to gage what you're comfortable with, there's no pressure what so ever! Also you're free to do the same stuff to me. I encourage it!!

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 5

it really was a coincidence that you already had his number saved in your phone when he texted you.

jack: hey

one of your best friends, jenny, had another friend who came along with you all that night. she was a loud woman with blonde curls called anna and she was, you had now learned, engaged to a hockey player in the local nhl team. you'd never cared much for sports in general, and especially not hockey. anna was quick to catch up on that fact the morning after you met jack, when you were supposed to go out for brunch with jenny and anna happened to tag along.

the boy you were chatting to last night, jack, she had started, sipping her orange juice before continuing. you did get his name, right? he's a good friend of my fiancé, a great player too.

you had thought and hoped that she would be able to read from your uninterested expression that you wished for the conversation to end as soon as it started. however, she had not been the quickest to pick up on your hints.

i've never seen jack look at someone like that before, you should totally hit him up! he's single, you know.

you'd sure hope so, considering the things you were up to in his apartment.

you had told anna that you didn't want anything to do with him, but she had insisted; at least save his number, you never know!

jenny had agreed, going off for a moment about your (empty) love life and how you haven't really looked happy since you broke up with that boyfriend over a year ago. the whole conversation had made you nauseous, and you had eventually agreed to add his number to your contacts just to shut them up.

since then, you'd forgotten about it, until the moment he texted you. you spent about fifteen minutes trying to figure out some kind of response – what even do you say to "hey"?

you: how did you get my number? lol

you felt a little guilty right after sending it, the tone maybe a little harsh; you usually greeted people back when they texted you. but maybe it was for the best. you didn't want him to get any false hopes.

your phone pinged again just a minute later.

jack: from anna! she said you two talked abt me, that i should hit you up

jack: well, i WANTED to hit you up also. :)

it kind of scared you how quick your heart was to flutter in your chest. this was not supposed to happen. before you could even answer, yet another message appeared in the chat.

jack: you free for dinner tonight?

a man not afraid of a triple text should've excited you. instead you shook your head and typed a quick response.

you: dinner?...

jack: i want to take you out for dinner, is that okay?

you shouldn't even have considered it. you never before even considered meeting a one-night-stand again, especially not for dinner. maybe it was because the other part was never interested in it, maybe it was because you thought it was against all and any code of conduct. either way, it was just easier like that.

so why did your fingers suddenly live a life of their own? why was there a message from you saying yes to his request when you looked back down at your phone again?

he surprised you that night. you knew from the first time you met that he was a good listener – though, you had assumed it was just because he was trying to woo you enough to go home with him – but he was a great talker, too. not in the sense that he talked a lot, but in the sense that whenever he did talk, you found yourself realizing he was more complicated than you initially thought. he wasn't just trying to win you over; he was trying to let you see him, piece by piece, each one carefully chosen.

you didn't know what the procedures or rules were when it came to this kind of meeting. was it a date? was it just a pre-hookup meal? was it something more? nonetheless, you weren't surprised that the dinner ended with you following him home to his apartment.

he wasn't just good at listening and talking, but at making you feel good, too. you knew you were already walking on the fine line between a regular hookup and something else – not that you were sure what the other thing would be. friends with benefits (could you even be friends with benefits if you weren't friends to start with?), fuck buddies (is there even such a thing these days?), or something completely different?

curled up into his side with a duvet lazily thrown across your stomach, you distracted yourself from your many thoughts by drawing shapes into his chest. little stars, quirky stick figures, ugly cats. "something on your mind?" he asked, a chuckle rumbling beneath his chest at the sight of you cuddling closer to him.

"this... hockey thing," you started, gazing up at him for the first time in a long while. "you're pretty good, aren't you?"

there was a shrug of his shoulder, though his expression stayed plain. "i guess so."

"you have your own wikipedia page. and you were some kind of first pick, whatever that means." this, however, forced his lips into a grin. "that's not just pretty good. that's amazing."

"i guess so."

he yelped at the feeling of your hand slapping his chest, a groan slipping past his lips. "why didn't you tell me? when we first met?"

"you didn't seem like you cared," he said honestly, and you pushed yourself up a little on the bed to look at him better. "so i didn't think it was necessary. besides, it's a job like any other."

"i told you all about my studies, and you just said that you work with hockey!" you exclaimed, fingers forming quotation marks in the air. "that's hardly fair, and it's not a common job!"

"i was wearing a team cap! i assumed that if you knew, you'd say something!"

you merely shook your head, pausing for a few moments to just stare at him. "i'll forgive you for now," you say, puckering your lips. "for the low price of five kisses."

"taken."

the thing that surprised you the most was how much you enjoyed spending time with him, how easy it felt. he was handsome and had a sweet smile and he was a great lover, sure, but you still hadn't expected to have this good of a time with him. it was almost enough to make you spend the night.

almost.

[bachibae]

HATO - Yandere!Hiori Yo

A/N: hiori's kink being 'fractured' (mentally ill) girls will never stop surprising me

TW: on tags (to avoid spoilers for those who don't care about tws, feel free to check the tags if you feel like you need it) + author's first language not being english + no proofreading

HATO (鳩)

(noun)

/ha-toh/

A dove; a gentle symbol of peace, purity, and love. Often associated with quiet grace and soft affection, it carries the beauty of fleeting moments, the warmth of a homeward journey, and the promise of serenity.

₊˙♡﹗˚ ༘  A name whispered like a melody, tender as the brush of wings.

Hiori needs you.

And you need him too. That’s why he quietly observes your face contort in a mix of mock disapproval and amusement with slight disappointment. 

You chuckle between the sips of the strawberry yakult Hiori gave you. “Leaving? Pfft, sure. We can also rob a bank while we’re at it.. and y’know what? Hell, let’s also burn this stupid, dead town and hide in a mountain temple– Okay, dollface?”

You laughed, finding your ideas extremely hilarious, as if you didn't realize the seriousness with which he expressed his wishes. He tries to hide the way his cheeks slightly blush at your affective and teasing nickname, tilting his head in embarrassment. Oh, how not. You weren’t even aware. But it’s okay, you’re just too confused. Like a bird whose wings have been broken, you don’t know that you can fly. But it’s fine— everything is fine, he is here to fix you. No matter how broken, how unstable you are. 

The truth is, it's because he likes it that way. He doesn’t really want to heal you. He wants to take care of your broken wings, so he himself knows better than anyone how to break them even harder again, and once you’re in his hold, you can’t fly out– you can’t walk away. You can’t leave. 

“Wait… you’re joking right?”

No he’s not. His hands grab your wrists and pull you back to the comfortable bed you both were sitting at with ease–he’s tall, very tall, but maybe with too much ease.

“No. I’m serious, [name], we don’t need anyone else. We can be together forever, and be finally happy.” He smiles, his eyes glimmering in hope and his plushy lips curling upwards in a doll-like expression. “Isn’t that what you want, too?”

He looks at you with pleading eyes, but when your eyes widen in surprise, they quickly become impassive. Did he just confess to you? No, that wasn’t the question-was he actually serious?

“Huh?”

Well, it’s okay. He knew this wouldn’t be easy. 

That’s why he meddled a little bit with the drink. 

“...I—”

The intensity in his gaze doesn’t waver, and you try to meet his eyes, but your vision is starting to swim. You blinked again, but it didn't help. You feel your breath coming out in short bursts as though you’re struggling to catch it. Your mouth feels dry, like the words you try to form won’t come out right.

He watches you carefully, and when your eyes widen in shock, he knows. He knows that you’re starting to feel it too. The confusion turns to something else, something more dangerous.

“[name]?”

You swallow, your throat tight. “I—hhh... I don’t fffeel..right…” You try to speak, but the words are difficult to hold onto, slurred, slipping between your lips as if they weren’t yours to say.

He doesn’t reply, watching your face like a little kid watches his favourite cartoons when your shocked expression slowly morphs into a dazed one, blinking in dizziness. His soft lips part in half curiosity half… excitement? You’re not too sure of what’s happening– But you aren’t dumb, and the pieces soon fall into place. You quickly try to stand up, not even glancing at him before trying to get the hell out, but it’s just too much. You can’t even take two entire steps towards the door of his room before losing control and plummeting down to the floor with a harsh thud. 

His expression serene, he watched you struggle, almost tenderly, as though he were watching a child stumble while learning to walk. His doll-like smile doesn’t falter, not even as you gasp for breath, your limbs weak and trembling, your consciousness slipping away before you can slip away from his reach.

Then, he smiled again. Looks like the wingless bird finally has found her new cage. 

He approaches slowly, crouching beside you with an air of calmness that contrasts with the frenetic chaos of your mind. His slender fingers brush a strand of hair from your face, tucking it neatly behind your ear.

“I promise you, hato, this is for the best,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, like a lullaby meant to coax you into submission. As if you even had an option. “Are you scared? I know you think you need to leave, but you don’t. I’ll take care of you.”

Your lips part, words slurred and incoherent, but he hushed you softly, pressing a finger to your lips. “Shh, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I understand you better than anyone else ever could.”

He lifts you effortlessly, cradling you in his arms like you’re something fragile—something precious. His steps are measured as he carries you back to the bed, laying you down as though placing a delicate porcelain doll on display.

“You’ve been through so much, haven’t you? No one sees how much you’re hurting, how tired you are of pretending everything’s fine.” 

He sits down, knees on the floor, his fingers brushing over your cheek in a touch that’s far too intimate for the circumstances. “But it’s okay now. You don’t have to pretend anymore. Not with me. I’ll make sure no one ever hurts you again. I will never leave you.”

A pause, his hand stilling against your skin. Your cheeks are round, they look like soft mochis. He tries hard to not give in to his urges and pinch them. However, he can't help but to let his lips softly curl upwards at the sight of a tear falling from your eye, and he softly pecks the spongy tissue of the wet trail in your eye. He’s a sadist, after all. And you, his little caged bird.

“And you’ll never leave me.”

[wolfvirago]

✨PERMANENT STARTER/INTERACTION CALL 2025 EDITION WOW✨

;; By liking this, it gives me permission too and you're comfortable with me doing the following:

Come at you with AU's for our muses

• Throw my wolfo at you anytime

• Tag You In Stuff that reminds me of our muses

✨Draw you things occasionally or make you some dumb edits✨

• Plotting possible ships, be it family, friend, rival, enemy, or romantic or just plotting stuff in general. I'm not the best plotter in the world but it's something I'm trying to get better at!

✨Invade your ask inbox with starters or random interactions. Bare in mind as well, that this goes double for all of you!✨

• You all can send me stuff as well! In fact I hope you do!!

• Send you headcanons about our muses

✨Writing random things for you (that is always free to be ignored, there is never any pressure to reply anything random).✨

• Letting me know it's okay to drop by your DMs with a idea I got or idk just to say hi (and also same can be done to me).

✨If you're not comfortable with liking this that's fine too!✨

Nothing we've done previously or any interactions we've had in the past will be affected, both IC and OOC whatsoever! This is just for me to gauge what you're comfortable with, there's no pressure what so ever! Also you're free to do the same stuff to me. I encourage it!! I want to be a little more active in 2025 and develop Robin even more!!

[hardly-an-escape]

Hope, Actually | Buck/Tommy | 2100 words | rated T

on the last day of Christmas, this writer gave to you... some BuckTommy holiday fluff! Buck watches Love Actually and gets an idea. tags: makeup fic, christmas, love actually, tooth rotting fluff, egregious overuse of italics

Buck gets the idea three days before Christmas.

He and Tommy have been talking again, is the thing. Trying to be friends. It's tentative and a little stilted sometimes and it's… fine. Talking only makes Buck want to jump Tommy's bones about 20% of the time, and peel his own skin off an additional 30% of the time. So that leaves 50% normal conversation, which is fine.

The fact that he's still painfully in love with Tommy is maybe a little less fine, but whatever. Can you even still be in love with a person if you never said you love them in the first place? Can you love them more? Because that's what it feels like. Every time he grabs a beer with Tommy and Chim and laughs for an evening over their latest ridiculous call, he loves him a little more. Every time they text, every time they end up at the same scene or the same bar, he falls a little harder.

But they're trying to be friends, trying to be cool; so Buck takes all that love and puts it away, smashes it down and swallows it and pushes it deep into his belly, and when he feels like it's going to overflow and turn into words he takes the excess and puts it in an imaginary box and shoves it deep inside an imaginary closet. There's probably some kind of irony there, a man taking these feelings he has for another man and putting them in a closet. Buck doesn't want to think too closely about it, to be honest.

And then three days before Christmas he's over at Maddie and Chimney's house. Jee-Yun has finally gone to bed, and they're flipping back and forth between random Christmas movies and drinking wine. Well, Buck and Chim are drinking wine, and Maddie is drinking sparkling grape juice and making a face after every other sip.

"Ooh, Love Actually!" she says excitedly as Chimney channel surfs. "Buck, have you ever seen this one?"

"No… Tommy and I were going to watch it together. I guess it doesn't matter now. He said he wanted to wait until after Thanksgiving, that's why we didn't. Before," Buck says heavily.

"I remember he told me once that it was his favorite movie," Chimney says neutrally. "That was a long time ago, though."

"Yeah, he said… he said it comes across as pretty dated. He said he probably wouldn't see it the same way if he watched for the first time now," Buck says, the words suddenly tripping over themselves to get out of his mouth. He can feel the glance his sister and her husband exchange over his head. "It's like junk food, you know, like… you don't eat a Big Mac because it's a good burger, you eat it because it's what you want, because it's the same every time and there's something comforting in that, even if it's objectively not great. Tommy said… he said he thought there are better Christmas movies, and way better rom coms, but there'll always be something kind of perfect and comforting about this one…" he trails off.

"Do you wanna skip it tonight?" Chimney asks, surprisingly gently.

"No. No, it's okay, we can watch it. I don't mind," Buck says. "But I'm going to open another bottle of wine."

"God, now that you mention it, I could kinda go for a Big Mac right now," Maddie says reflectively.

Later, a little too drunk to drive home, Buck curls up in the middle of the guest bed and lets the movie swirl aimlessly through his thoughts. Tommy was right, he thinks, about it being pretty dated – he can see how some of the stories, which might have hit romantic beats in the mid-2000s, just come off as clunky, or even creepy, 20 years later.

But Buck can also see how it got under people's skin – can guess how it got under Tommy's skin. Even in the clunky stories there's a thread running through, a bigger idea about the diversity of love, about all its imperfections, about the way it can grab hold of you and surprise you whether you're at the beginning, the middle, or the end of your own story.

There's an idea there, tipsy and unformed, about him and Tommy and about what he can do with all the love he's been packing up and hiding away like the hoodie buried at the back of his drawer that only barely smells like Tommy's sweat now. By the time he wakes up and finishes making everybody breakfast, the idea has solidified into a plan.

He has to visit two different office supply stores to get what he needs, and it takes him most of that afternoon to figure out what he wants to write, saving draft after draft in the notes app of his phone before he ever puts marker to paper. At some point he remembers to text Lucy to ask whether Tommy's on duty Christmas Eve or whether he'll be at home.

He's not on the duty roster but I don't know if he has plans, she texts back. Want I should find out?

yes please, he sends. I'm gonna do sthg stupid and i need him to be home for it.

Thank God, one of you idiots needs to figure your shit out before I'm subjected to his sad breakup playlist one more time.

he has a breakup playlist???

An hour later Lucy texts again to let Buck know that she told Tommy she had some stuff to drop off for him, and he said he wasn't planning to leave the house. So the plan is a go.

On Christmas Eve, Buck waits until after dark to drive over to Tommy's house. He's got three dozen thumbprint cookies in tins, a carefully ordered stack of poster board, and about a thousand butterflies in his stomach. This is either going to go really well, or really poorly, and he's honestly not sure which outcome to expect. But he has to do something – he has to try.

He wishes it were snowing. It's barely cool enough to need a jacket. But that's Los Angeles in the winter for you.

Tommy has this particular smile. Buck saw it pretty often when they were first together. It's not his favorite of Tommy's smiles; it's too restrained, starts out wide and then gets reined in, tamped down, as if he suddenly remembered that he's not supposed to be that happy, or not allowed to show it if he is. Buck is pretty sure it's the smile of someone who'd spent a long time being more or less punished for joy, and whatever else happens between them, he's glad that he saw it less and less over their months together.

But Buck sees that smile again when the front door swings open, when Tommy reflexively smiles big, the one that reaches his eyes, when he sees Buck on the porch – and immediately schools his face into something more reserved, more professional. Friendly, but not too friendly.

"Hey. What's up? What –" he trails off as Buck hits play on his phone and Christmas music comes from the Bluetooth speaker at his feet. He picks up his stack of poster board cards and shows Tommy the first one.

Say it's carol singers, it reads in Buck's uneven chicken scratch handwriting.

"Buck, nobody else is here," Tommy says.

Buck frowns and brandishes the sign again. Tommy's smile softens into something wistful, almost sad. "It's carol singers," he calls exaggeratedly over his shoulder to the empty house and turns back to Buck with an expectant look.

Buck flips to the next sign. I watched this movie the other day, it says. I didn't think it was that good TBH.

Sign number three: But I think I understand why people still like it so much.

Tommy crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow.

Buck flips to the fourth sign. I think it's a movie about hope. That no matter how much you fuck up there will still be a way for love to find you.

He had to write pretty small to fit all that on one sign, so he holds it up a little longer and watches something flash across Tommy's face as he reads. He waits until Tommy looks up again to go to the next card.

And now it's Christmas, it says. And at Christmas you tell the truth.

The playlist is on a rendition of "Joy to the World" that couldn't possibly be performed by anything less than a professional eight-part a cappella group. Buck flips to the next card.

You're not perfect, it reads in big letters. The "not" is underlined multiple times. Tommy laughs a little bit, and Buck doesn't think he's imagining the fact that it sounds a little wet, like maybe Tommy is choking up a little.

The next sign: (And neither am I.) We've both fucked up + I'm sure we will again. He's not happy with how this one looks. He'd tried about seventeen times on various pieces of scrap paper to get the damn ampersand right and eventually had to settle for the stupid little plus sign like a middle schooler.

But I still have hope. I have hope for love. I have hope for us. Almost to the end now.

The second-to-last card is a simple one. And… I'm hoping you have hope too. Merry Christmas Tommy.

Buck bends down and takes his time stopping the music and turning off the Bluetooth speaker; straightens up slowly, poster board clutched to his chest. He can't quite meet Tommy's eyes, too afraid of what he might see there, so he looks down at his own shoes until the toes of Tommy's house slippers shuffle into view.

Two gentle fingers tip his chin up. It's so familiar, Buck almost expects a kiss, but instead Tommy just looks at him, soft and tender and achingly open.

"Thank you, Evan," he says, and it doesn't escape Buck's notice that he was Buck when Tommy first opened the door, and he's back to being Evan now.

"It's really not a great movie, Tommy," he says, a little helplessly. "I liked the story about the dad and the kid, and the one with the naked people was pretty good, but this guy?" He shakes a sheet of poster board and it makes that little wooby wooby sound. "Total creeper. And the prime minister is an HR violation waiting to happen, and I don't know if they even have HR in England…"

He trails off, because Tommy is chuckling. Tommy is laughing at him, and his smile is big again, spreading over his face from the corners of his eyes all the way down to the cleft in his chin, and it's one of the more beautiful things Buck has ever seen.

"You're not wrong, Evan," he's saying. "I think I told you, you know, it's like junk food, you don't eat it because it's good, you eat it because it's –"

"It's what you want." They're standing close together, now. Almost close enough that Buck can feel Tommy's breath against his cheek. He can still feel the ghost of his fingertips under his chin.

He's really not sure what to do now. His plan hadn't developed this far, beyond a kind of half-baked daydream of Tommy immediately falling into his arms and passionately declaring his love, although actually neither of them is quite that kind of guy. But luckily, Tommy seems to have an idea where to go.

"Do you want to stay for a bit?" he asks. "Maybe watch a better Christmas movie? Maybe… maybe talk some things over?"

"Yes," Buck is saying before the last sentence finishes emerging from Tommy's mouth. "Yes, please. I brought you cookies. They're in the car, I couldn't – I couldn't carry them and hold the signs at the same time."

"How about I take these," Tommy says, taking the stack of posters from Buck's suddenly nerveless fingers, "and you go get the cookies, and you come inside for a while?"

"Okay," Buck says, and does that.

Just under a year later, when they're decorating for their second Christmas together, Tommy unearths the signs from a plastic tub of fake garland. Evan laughs at himself while they hang ornaments on the tree, still a little embarrassed. I can't believe I thought that would work, he says. I can't believe it did work.

I can, Tommy says, and holds up a plastic sprig of mistletoe, and reels him in for a kiss.

read on AO3 >>>

[galaxy-fleur]

˗ˏˋ Thoughtful Care ˎˊ˗

Pairing: RE2R!Leon/gn!reader. Summary: After escaping the hell on Earth that was Racoon City, you are now stuck in a dingy motel room that will be your safe haven for the time being. As you and your little group try to get your bearings together, you get a chance to spend some much-needed alone time with Leon after your eventful night together. As it turns out, tending to one's wounds is a more intimate experience than you thought. Word Count: <17k words; AO3 link. Notes: One use of Y/N, switching POV, some mutual pining, kissing, you take care of Leon's wounds, brief discussion of Ada, Claire and Sherry cameo. Credit: divider by @/saradika-graphics.

Life is a mysterious thing. You haven't ever considered yourself to be someone particularly special. You were always just an ordinary person, with a pretty ordinary life, and ordinary problems someone your age would typically be dealing with. You never once thought of that as something worthy being upset about. Being ordinary meant having your life in order. It meant that your daily routine was comfortable for you. Pleasant. Safe. Small daily problems that keep your mind occupied are really not appreciated enough. There is a very fragile feeling of peace in worrying over not being late to work tomorrow, or what to buy for lunch.

A very fragile feeling of peace that was forever broken for you in a single, horrible night.

You definitely never anticipated yourself to end up in the middle of some deadly outbreak straight out of a horror movie. Sure, you may have joked around with friends on how you would do in a horror story once or twice, but that was the extent of it. Jokes. Make-belief. You can indulge in fantasies about anything while you are safe and sound, however insane those fantasies may be. It's a completely different story when you are suddenly forced to shoot someone who is neither dead nor alive.

There were some that you even recognized.

A cute baker boy you remember complimenting on his new haircut during your visit to Racoon City a few months back.

A young teacher fresh out of college who shared many meaningful conversations with you near the Orphanage.

An elderly neighbor you once helped cross the street, after which he kindly invited you for tea next time you'll come to visit.

A promise that was never to be fulfilled now. And realizing that you would probably end up among them if you didn't move out of the city was... chilling, to say the least. 

Racoon City, once a place of many fond memories for you, has now become nothing but a living, gruesome nightmare that you will likely never forget. A part of you still wonders how you even managed to keep yourself alive through it all in the first place. But, somehow, you did. In part, due to a very fortunate encounter with a rookie cop who seemed to have arrived in the city not long after you. You barely spent a day in there, yet it felt like a lifetime. But despite everything fate threw your way, you two remained united, only briefly forced apart from each other, but ultimately rejoined again.

At the end of the day, it felt good to at least not be alone in this. To know that someone has your back. Heck, even simply having someone there to talk to made things just a tiny bit easier. Navigating the blood-stained corridors of the ruined Police Station on your own would have made you lose your mind for sure.

Survival is not a pretty nor heroic endeavor. You've lost people. In fact, you'd say that you've lost way more than you've saved. Your heart has been permanently stained by witnessing so much senseless death and violence in such a short time. At least you have shared this awful stain with Leon. And it's always easier to share a burden than to carry it alone.

In the end, while you didn't achieve anything world-changing or save the city, you managed to escape together, relatively safe and sound. Despite being battered, covered in blood and grime, you two at least have the privilege of living another day. One that not many share, sadly.

You even managed to reunite with a pair of other survivors along the way - Claire and Sherry - who clearly had their own stories of shared survival to tell. So, you all made the decision to stick together from then on. Each of the four of you with their own scars to bear, whether physical or mental.

Tired, and a bit lost on what to do next, you all decided to spend the day at the nearest shabby motel. To get some much-needed rest before deciding on what to do next. Not the most ideal of places, but after the night you had, a clean bed to sleep in and a safe room with no metallic stench of blood clinging to your nostrils, was more than enough to feel relieved. Although it was rather cramped with all four of you huddling to share the compact space you've been given. But it was also an undeniable source of comfort to not be alone. Furthermore, your body was so utterly exhausted that you couldn't really afford to be picky.

In fact, you're pretty sure that you blacked out as soon as your head hit the pillow. All four of you shared that same sentiment, it seems. You all slept through the entire day and most of the night, your drained minds and bodies hungry for precious hours of peace and safely. 

When next morning came, Claire went out with Sherry to get breakfast for you all from the nearest diner, while you and Leon stayed back together in the motel. It was definitely... strange. It was strange to share so much with someone you've only met about about a day ago. Though, considering that you spent the entirely of the last day sleeping, it pretty much felt like yesterday. You met Leon having no prior knowledge of him whatsoever. He wasn't even from Racoon City. You couldn't have known him if you've tried. Yet, the shared experience of survival side by side made you feel closer to him than to some of your friends back home.

Human minds work in mysterious ways.

So, here you are now, stuck all alone with Leon, for the first time since you reunited with Claire on the train. To avoid any unwanted awkwardness, you decide to break the silence at last.

"So...How'd you sleep?"

With a small yawn, Leon stirs in his bed and shifts onto his side. He slept the longest out of all you. Knocked out cold and waking up only approximately ten or so minutes ago. He's still rubbing at his bleary eyes, clearly not fully awake despite his efforts to appear alert for you. Given that he was also the one in the worst shape among you all, no one really blamed him for it. As the morning sun trickles through the shutters, light streaks across his face, painting his features into soft shades of red and yellow. It's a cute look on him, in a way. Though you don't linger on that thought too much. He examines the dimly lit room for a moment, almost like he needs a moment to remember how he got here in the first place, before his eyes settle on you standing by the window.

You kept the shutters down on purpose, to keep the morning sun away, making the room appear rather dark, aside from long stripes of bright yellow from the sunlight stubbornly peeking through. Though, it's definitely a first for you to find such comfort in a motel room, of all places.

Leon rolls over onto his back with a small, pained grunt, propping himself up slightly with his good arm. His voice is muffled and groggy as he answers, and you smile to yourself at the sound of it, stiffling a snort: "Honestly... Can't really complain. This might be the best sleep I've had in a while, all things considered."

"Well, I guess at least some of us are well-rested," you say, indirectly referring to your own rather worn out state despite the good 15 hours of sleep you got. You appreciate the cleanliness of the fresh air coming from the window for another short moment, inhaling with your full chest to fill your lungs to the brim. Compared to the foul stench of blood and rot you had grown a tolerance for now, even the somewhat dusty air from the curb felt like you were breathing on top of the cleanest mountain. But, you step away and sit back down on the other bed next to Leon's, leaning back on your palms comfortably. "Claire and Sherry are out to get us all some breakfast. We decided not to wake you."

Leon sits up and gently stretches out his shoulders, wincing slightily at the motion. No wonder, considering the huge, bloody bandage wrapped around his shoulder. Despite your effort to appear nonchalant, he quickly recognizes the weariness etched onto your features, and looks over at you with a genuinely sympathetic expression from what you could tell.

You look away, disappointed that he somehow read you like a book.

It's bizarre, having someone you had basically just met feel so relaxed with you. Usually, it takes you at least a few weeks to develop this level of friendliness with someone. Then again, not like you go through what you went through the night before with everybody. After all, you already knew that Leon was good. There was no need to be cautious around him. None that you knew of, at least. That, and he seemed way more outspoken than you, anyway. A bit too trusting and naive, too. Especially for a cop.

"What about you? You didn't sleep too well or something?" Leon asks with a hint of trepidation in his voice. While a part of you is still a bit annoyed at his keen perception of you, you suppose you can't really blame him either. Given that he's likely dealing with the same thing you do.

Though, despite all that happened, he and Claire were much more optimistic than you.

Either way, you give him a small, dismissive shrug and run your hand over your hair, your nose wrinkling at the unpleasant feel of it. It's dry and matted under your touch. Even with your best efforts to get yourself back into shape yesterday, your hair was still far from its ideal state. Not like you had access to your usual haircare products in here. You probably still look rather messy. You also find yourself wondering if you'll have to get a trim on it when you go back home. Maybe this whole ordeal was the universe's twisted way of telling you to get a change of style or something.

Leon gaze is still trained on you, his eyes peering straight into your soul. That's how it felt, at least. No matter how hard you try, the weary look in your eyes and slight sag in your shoulders are the dead giveaway that you are, indeed, still tired. But he doesn't address the issue. Much to your relief.

"Eh, I'm fine. I got some sleep," your response is somewhat aloof, and you know it. But your lack of sleep isn't your only worry here, after all. "I'm glad you got some rest, though."

"Yeah... I sure needed it," Leon sighs softly, tracing the white bandage on his shoulder with his fingers.

Your gaze, too, shifts to the blood-stained bandage over his shoulder as you look over at him. You're a bit curious whether he was tracing it more due to his overall unease or because he was reminiscing about the very person who had put it on him in the first place.

Leon notices your stare on his shoulder, and his fingers stop their movements, almost like he's a bit embarrassed of it. As he looks back up at you, his expression is a perfect blend of exhaustion and contemplation. A somewhat awkward moment of silence passes, both of you lost in your own thoughts.

"...How are you holding up?" you coax, your voice a bit quieter than usual, much to your own surprise.

Geez, you didn't mean to sound so worried.

"I'm... managing," he responds with a hint of fatigue in his own voice. He softly pokes at the makeshift bandage again, grimacing instantly as another dull pain throbs in his shoulder. "-It still hurts like hell though. But I guess I can't complain. Considering everything."

You let out a sigh and lean forward, resting your arms on your knees: "That's... not what I'm asking here."

In a way, you were curious why you were asking him this in the first place. Not like it's important. Or should be important. Your shared experience together did not change the fact that you and Leon were still pretty much strangers, regardless of everything. Or maybe you were being too cynical. Regardless, the absence of Claire and Sherry allowed for you two to converse with each other one on one for the first time in a rather long while. Something that you felt the need for. For a variety of reasons.

Your words cause Leon's brows to furrow slightly, be it confusion or something else. Though, it's obvious he understands what you're implying here, what you're truly asking from him. He pauses for another long moment, seemingly unsure of how to respond. You don't rush him. Letting the silence settle between you two once more, safe for the quiet hum of the air conditioner and an occasional car driving by somewhere in the distance.

Finally, he looks away from you and stares down at the cheap carpet on the floor. His expression is almost fragile as he speaks up, his eyes hinting at a hidden vulnerability he kept inside up until this point: "It's... I don't know. I just... all the people I- we couldn't save..."

You quickly recognize his potential indirect referral. Or perhaps you were already aware of it from the very beginning, simply waiting for him to get to it. After all, the urgency to escape prevented you from talking about it, the entire Nest crumbling in on itself in a blaze of fire and ashes.

No time for talking about your feelings when you are about to fucking explode, after all.

Leon trails off, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

So, you cut straight to it for him.

"...Are you thinking about her?" you murmur faintly but just loud enough for him to hear, looking directly at him. Providing a name wasn't necessary for you both to understand exactly who you were referring to here.

Ada.

As Leon glances back up at you abruptly, his blue eyes flash with surprise. It's easy to see the moment his heart drops, a pretty blatant mix of pain and guilt quickly washing over his face. Looks like you hit the jackpot after all.

He tries to speak, but then shuts his mouth once more. The look in his eyes is now one of confusion as he runs a hand through his hair frustratedly. You allow him to have his moment with no interference. 

"...Yeah. I am," he finally admits, his voice almost a whisper. It's a wonder you heard him at all. With all the gunshots and explosions, you wouldn't have been surprised to find your hearing suffering greatly. He sighs heavily, his fingers twiddling together on his lap. "I... know it's probably stupid. Hell, it is stupid. To feel guilty over someone I barely even knew. Someone who..."

You sigh and lower your gaze as well. Saying things were complicated would be the same as saying nothing at all. Their final confrontation on the bridge was inaudible to you due to your distance. So, you were unaware of what was said between them. Not all of it, at least. The rumbling sounds of the Umbrella facility slowly crumbling in on itself caused everything to be drowned out to you. You didn't dare ask him about it, either.

His voice catches in his throat and he hesitates, making it obvious that it's your cue to continue now.

The judgment you made on Ada was based on what you saw from afar. That's all you could really offer him here.

"I do think she cared. About you, at least. We don't know why she did what she did. But... she didn't shoot you back there. I don't think she wanted to," you say, pursing your lips in thought as you play over what your eyes have seen. You were not aware of what Ada's last words to him were before she slipped from his grasp. But what you did see unfolding in front of you was... conflicting, to say the least.

Your words have a pretty profound effect on Leon, causing his heart to tighten in his chest with a painful pull. He understands all the implications behind them and, admittedly, he had already came to the same conclusion within himself. He just had no desire at all to actually face it and accept it. The fact that Ada's refusal to harm him to get her way was clear evidence of her allegiance. But that evidence was cruel and left him with no closure at all. Nervously, he runs his hand through his hair again, releasing a bitter laugh that felt heavy on his lungs. He is unsure whether he should be angry, sympathetic, or simply mournful towards the enigmatic woman who was such a mystery in every way, up to the very end. Perhaps he experiences all three emotions at the same time.

But you both know that if it were you standing there instead of Leon...

Ada probably wouldn't have hesitated on pulling the trigger.

He looks to you again, maybe hoping for you to give him some information he knew you couldn't give.

But you don't meet his gaze, choosing instead to look downwards, seemingly just as conflicted about this all as he is. Of course, Leon realizes that his numerous questions would remain unanswered for an indefinite period. Probaby forever. He also had to accept that you couldn't give him any answers, or closure that could potentially come with them. Ada has died, and there was no way to change that cold, hard fact. Just like there was no way to take back all the lives of countless others who were lost in those streets. Racoon City had transformed from a community of pride and hopeful future into a place of death and bloodshed, with only you, Claire, and Sherry, managing to escape it alive. That was your current understanding, at least.

It would be nice to meet other survivors. But, for now, all he could do was sigh and accept your answer, however unfair it was on his heart. 

"Yeah, maybe... Maybe you're right," he mutters before falling into silence once more. His mind is racing with so many thoughts, all in conflict with one another. He is torn between his heart's desire to believe that Ada cared and the warnings of his mind to be cautious. He is uncertain about any of his emotions or thoughts at this point. He lets out another tired huff of frustration. "I just- I just wish I knew why. Why she did what she did, how much of it was real, or..."

...Or whether she cared about him at all.

"Well... at least you're safe. Let's leave it at that," your voice cuts through the dark whirlpool of thoughts in his head, turning his attention back on you. You seem to be focusing on his injured shoulder again. Perhaps in an attempt to divert the conversation, you switch the subject: "-We should really clean that up for you. It's all dirty and bloodied. Can't be good."

Leon winces as he instinctively tries to move his injured shoulder, further proving your point. He complies with a single nod, fully aware of the dire need for cleaning and proper care for the wound hidden under the worn-out bandages. Or... whatever care you could provide. At this point, anything is better than this dirty, blood-soaked thing.

"Uh, yeah. It's been a while, and it's starting to kind of..."

He stops, his face contorting in pain while he tries to move it again. His shoulder is becoming increasingly tender, and the bandage is completely stained with dark crimson blood. How much of it is his, and how much of it is of the other mutated things that used to be humans or animals he had to fight off, is unclear. Taking a deep breath, he prepares himself mentally for the miserable ordeal ahead. 

This experience will not be pleasant.

That pitiful look you give him doesn't help his pride, either. Or what's left of it, anyways. 

Regardless, not wanting to stall this any longer than he has to, he gingerly shifts his wounded shoulder and starts to delicately remove his police uniform with caution, taking his time. He took off his body armor the day before, leaving it stacked neatly somewhere in the far corner. Out of sight, out of mind, so to speak. Still, what was left of the dirtied police uniform on him was just as much of a reminder of the night before. He flinches involuntarily due to the fabric brushing against the bloody bandage, the pain instantly radiating from his shoulder straight to his insides.

You realize that you cannot just sit back and watch him struggle on his own, pride be damned.

"...Here. Let me help," you murmur softly as you approach him and sit next to him on the motel bed. You begin to delicately unbutton and peel off his soiled uniform from his upper body, aiming to avoid putting any unneeded discomfort on his already tender shoulder.

Leon nods quietly in response to your assistance. You're grateful he didn't make a big deal out of it. Outwardly, at least. He raises his good arm and makes an effort to shift his position, allowing you to help him in taking off what was left. "Thanks..."

You try not to think too much about the fact that you are basically undressing a cute guy you just met the day before.

With your help, you eventually succeed in removing the top portion of his uniform, leaving him in his pants and a bandage to cover his bruised skin. As he sits there, you can tell that his upper body being fully uncovered to your gaze - except for the stained bandage on his shoulder that is - is making him feel rather awkward and tense. You can't really blame him for that.

You sure would be feeling embarrassed in his place.

"...I probably look a total mess right now," Leon shoots you a somewhat nervous smile. Despite him clearly trying to make a joke, you can still hear the painfully obvious apprehension in his voice.

"Yeah, you do," you agree rather bluntly as you glance over him without crossing any inappropriate boundaries. Leon had a more fit body than you expected, which... made sense in hindsight due to his recent graduation from the Police Academy, as he told you. It was probably necessary for him to be in good shape. Although muscular, he wasn't excessively so. His body was... normal. In a good way. Decently toned, with some softness around his sides and belly. Frankly, if it wasn't for the situation at hand, you would have complimented him, but you suppress that urge as soon as it arises.

You don't need to make things even more weird between you two.

As your eyes travel up and down his body, you lock eyes with each other for a brief, awkward moment. You quickly break eye contact with the each other, almost simultaneously.

Welp, so much for not being awkward.

"Uh... Do you remember what Ada did for you exactly...?" you say instead, touching his uninjured shoulder lightly. When Leon was shot, you were not together. You missed witnessing the event directly, only reuniting with him afterwards when he already had a fresh bandage wrapped snuggly around his shoulder.

"No... I passed out after I got shot," there is a brief pause between you, and his face reflects a mixture of pain and another indescribable emotion that you can't really pinpoint clearly. Whether it's physical discomfort speaking or something else entirely, you don't know. "I woke up with it already on and her gone."

You watch him turn his attention back to his injured shoulder, where the white bandage is stained with dried blood. He gently rubs the fabric with his fingers, sensing the pain and discomfort that emanates from the fresh wound beneath. Despite everything, it's very much evident that he can't help but feel at least a small tingle of gratitude towards Ada, even though it hurts him to think about her at the moment.

"Well, since you didn't bleed out, and your arm is still somewhat usable, I'd say she did a good job," you let out a sigh and lean back slightly. Although you had previously taken a rather beneficial first aid course, you never anticipated having to actually apply those skills to treat a severe bullet wound, of all things. "...Her being a mercenary explains her way around such stuff, I guess."

Leon's eyes are still fixed on his injured shoulder as he nods. Guess he wasn't feeling very talkative for now. Not that you could blame him for that.

He runs his hand through his messy hair as you go to grab the medkit you thoughtfully prepared for the occasion, the faint sound of his fingers scratching against his scalp echoes in the room. You can only guess that his hair is probably just as dry and dirty as yours is, considering the circumstances you've just recently escaped from. On some level, it makes you feel less awkward about your own disheveled appearance in turn. It's good to know that you are all in the same boat here. Looking like a mess, and feeling like one, too.

"It sure does," he exhales somewhat bitterly, his voice filled with underlying anguish, as if he feels deeply betrayed. And he probably does. His face covered in a plethora of conflicting emotions. You feel a twinge of sympathy tugging at your heartstrings again. "I wish she could have just... been honest with me. From the start."

It appears that he is struggling to reconcile with the disparity between the person he believed he knew and the person Ada truly was.

You decide to not mention that he knew her for less than 24 hours. After all, it's evident that he's going through a difficult time as it is, and your practicality may not be of much help to him. Emotions are notoriously illogical.

It's difficult to think of a way to comfort him in the current situation.

"Well, at least you still have me, right? We made it out. And Claire, too. And Sherry." So, instead, you choose to gently rub his uninjured shoulder as a wordless show of support. "C'mon. Let's get that dirty bandage off of you. We don't want you catching an infection or something."

When you touch his shoulder again, he returns his gaze back to you, some life returning to the gentle blues of his eyes, much to your relief. Looks like your touch did the trick, as his body gradually loosens up under your palm. He gives you a small but genuine smile. "Alright, alright. Let's get this done, then. This is going to suck though..."

"Hey, it can't be as bad as actually getting shot, though, right?" you attempt to make a small joke to lighten the mood, but you instantly feel a deep sense of discomfort inside as soon as you actually speak it aloud.

Well, that sure sounded macabre.

"Uh... Sorry. That was... pretty bad."

Leon snorts out a short laugh regardless, running a hand over his face. At least you made him laugh. Though you can't help but wonder whether he laughed at your joke, or you. Probable the latter. Regardless, he takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the very probable agony of having his shoulder directly meddled with.

You both understand that it'll likely be pretty painful for him to endure, but you also understand that it is very much essential to get done. Especially since you haven't visited a hospital yet.

So, after you share a nod of mutual agreement with him, you begin to carefully remove the dirty bandage from his shoulder, taking your time to avoid causing him any unnecessary discomfort.

Besides your unfunny joke, that is.

"...Your jokes are terrible." Leon mutters under his breath, probably to distract himself a little. He winces slightly, the fabric that's already hardened now rubbing directly against the wound from your movements, which is more than uncomfortable to sit through, but not as painful as he expected. Or maybe he has just become more numb to the pain of it. "Don't be too gentle, by the way. Better to just get it over with as quickly as possible."

"I'm not about to hurry through this and potentially make it worse, sorry," you deadpan, leaving no room for doubt. 

Well, so much for his hopes of getting this done quickly. Though he knows you're right there. He just really doesn't want to sit through this.

As you continue to unravel the bandage, he clenches his teeth tightly. The pain is bearable, but it's far from enjoyable. With you steadily approach the actual wound, his entire body tightens involuntarily, muscles going taut with contained tension. The actual memory of being shot is still fresh in his mind, unfortunately. Though, he tries to divert his attention away from the pain by focusing on your presence and touch instead, however dubious such a notion may be.

He can hear you release a small sigh, whether it was out of annoyance or pity for him, he couldn't really tell. Your lips tighten as you carefully and patiently unravel each layer of cloth one by one to reach the aforementioned wound. He quickly looks down at his lap, scolding himself inwardly.

Why was he staring at your lips, of all things, anyways? He has no concise answer for that. And he is not sure what to expect once you two can finally look at the bullet wound itself, either. It's like everything was uncertain, and that was frustrating, to say the least.

"F-Fuck... That hurts-"

He clenches his teeth tightly, determined not to make any unneeded noise. He doesn't want to appear weak in your presence for some reason. Perhaps it's his pride speaking. He didn't really know.

"Sorry... I'm going as gently as I can," your voice is softer than he's used to, and he's not sure how to take that. You take your sweet time to remove the remaining layers of his bandage, being cautious not to abruptly tear it off, opting instead for a slower and more careful approach. Considerate as ever.

Leon releases a trembling breath while you carefully remove the final layer of fabric. He has to fight a growing urge to recoil as the last remaining layers of bandage are delicately removed. But it does at least feel relieving to finally take a full breath with no restriction that the tightness of the fabric secured around his chest provided. Even if such freedom was probably brief.

You both can now see his entire shoulder, which completely reveals the wound for you both to behold. He is very much aware of his heart pounding in his chest, his nerves on high alert. Once the wound is finally exposed, you examine it, quickly glancing over the hastily but securely stitched front and back where the bullet entered and exited his body. It was certainly not a clean, medical work, but it far surpassed anything either of you were capable of doing for him.

"Looks like she stitched you up, too... I wonder if that means she removed the bullet," you note, your brows furrowed together, creating a rather adorable-looking wrinkle between them.

...Goddammit, he's thinking utter nonsense.

"Ugh... I don't want to look at it," he mutters with clenched teeth, his breath slightly uneven. Nonetheless, he tries to divert his attention to something else, anything else, to distract himself from the nervousness twisting at his insides. The pain is intense and prickling, a sensation that spreads from the wound itself. The tender area around the injury causes Leon to wince involuntarily as you delicately touch it. He looks down at the wound, the stitched-up flesh making him a bit queasy. But he pushes past it. "I... can't tell you anything on what she did, sorry. Like I said, I passed out."

He looks away from it, not wanting to see it for much longer. Damn it, this will likely leave a mark. So much for the first day on the job. The idea of having to bear a permanent reminder of that horrible night makes him want to wail and claw at the walls.

But instead, he just lets out a shaky breath, his hands gripping at the sheets with iron-tight grip. In some sick irony, he now finds himself wishing for the dull, physical ache to return, to take center-stage again, instead of these feelings of disgust and dread that were so much more difficult to deal with.

Once again, your voice pulls him out of his silent turmoil. This seems to be a common occurrence now. But one he's grateful for, nonetheless.

"Well... Either way, you'll still need to go to a hospital for this. Preferably as soon as possible," you state, pretty much admitting that you would rather have opted to go directly to the hospital after your escape instead of staying in a nearby motel. He knew that you didn't approve of his stubborn refusal to go to the hospital. And here you were now. DIY care will have to do. You hum, your fingertips carefully tracing around the stitches. He shivers. Whether that was from the pain or something else entirely, he didn't really know. "-At least it's stitched up, so that's good. I'll just clean it, disinfect it, and wrap it back up for you. Hopefully it'll be okay."

"Yeah, I know I need to get this checked out. But for now..." As you start tending to his injury with a wet wipe, he flinches a bit, feeling a sharp pain from the cold dampness touching his skin. He hisses through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he continues, his voice strained from the pain: "-I just want us to get out of here first. As far away from Racoon City as possible. Especially Sherry."

"Sorry... Bear with it for a while, will you?" you say as you move closer to him on the bed, glancing at him with that cute sympathetic look of yours. You start from his back and then move to his front. He shuts his eyes again while you continue with the wound cleaning, concentrating on taking deep, regular breaths to soothe his nerves. His body tenses up involuntarily, as the pain from the wound and the recollection of how it happened remain vivid in his thoughts.

"It's alright... I'll handle it." A sensitive area on his shoulder causes him to squirm slightly when touched. His entire body tightens instinctively, and his muscles contract involuntarily. "S-Sorry, just... Be careful, okay?"

You nod as you continue to cleanse his skin of dried up blood, while he tries to find solace in your quiet comfort. It presents a challenge, as the pain from his injury and the physical proximity between you two hinder his ability to focus on anything else.

"Don't apologize. I'm not the one with a damn bullet wound in my shoulder," you respond to his apology with a soft huff and a small shake of your head, your attention fully focused on your work. Your primary objective was to avoid making any sharp movements and to prevent your eyes from wandering south.

Which was... a bit harder than you would have liked to admit. You notice a few birthmarks scattered around his skin here and there. It's cute. A part of you wants to trace over them with your finger.

But, of course, you have a job to do.

Leon takes a deep breath, his chest slowly rising and falling as you work on him carefully. His teeth are clenched far too tightly for his comfort, and you are kind of worried that he might chip a tooth if he keeps this up. But considering that you have no idea what he's going through here, you decide to keep your mouth shut on that.

After successfully cleaning the area around his rough stitches, you pull away and search through the first aid kit you had in the motel room. A small, thoughtful hum fills your lips.

You hear Leon laugh weakly:"...Anything worthwhile in there, doc?"

"Well, there's some antibiotic cream in here... Better than nothing. I guess?"

He watches as you pull out the small tube of some basic antibacterial cream. You're pretty sure you have seen it somewhere before. Then again, no point expecting some high-end medicine from a med-kit you found stashed in the bedside drawer. Regardless, you make sure to read through its contents, just to be sure. Satisfied, you nod to yourself and return to sit behind him, beginning to apply the cream to his stitches with your fingertips. He instantly grimaces, be it from the pain or the cold. His muscle tighten again  for a moment, a small gasp leaving his lips.

"Stay still," you instruct to him softly as you spread the cream over his stitches thoroughly, your forehead wrinkling with focus. You try your best to be gentle while also ensuring that an adequate amount is applied to the injury.

"Ugh... shit, that's cold," he grits out, his voice strained.

For a small while, the room is silent, aside from Leon's shaky breaths and an occasional grunt of pain as he struggles to stay still for you. After you thoroughly treated both sides, you withdraw with a sigh: "Well... That's as good as we can do for now. We just need to wrap it back up with something."

Leon exhales a trembling breath of relief. Poor guy definitely had the worst night of his life.

"Heh... I guess I owe you one for this." He directs his gaze towards his shoulder, his eyes shifting between his bloodstained shirt lying crumbled on the floor and the now clean and treated stitches. Compared to their previous state, they definitely looked a bit better, but it was still, admittedly, pretty gross to look at. You can only guess that it will be a lengthy recovery for him. He hums. "You did a great job, by the way. I'm not sure I could have handled doing all that by myself,"

He meets your eyes with a gentle, grateful smile.

"-Just make sure to get it treated at the hospital. I don't need anything else from you." You dismiss him with a small smile of your own. Leon gives you a small nod at that.

However brief, the implication of the future makes you feel a bit... uneasy. Considering the past night's events, the idea of parting and going your separate ways seemed to be somewhat conflicting to you. Nonetheless, you have already accepted that it was inevitable. Leon, on the other hand, seemed to be firmly committed to destroying Umrella completely for what it did to Racoon City, just like Claire was. You felt somewhat out of place between these two determined individuals. After all, you were just an ordinary person who somehow miraculously escaped relatively unharmed. You weren't a courageous hero, nor were you skillfull enough to take down an entire corporation in some blaze of glory.

...Except for the scar or two for you to brag about now. Though you honestly doubt your survival is something to be proud of. You sure don't feel proud or accomplished at all.

Regardless, you ignore all these thoughts and concentrate on retrieving fresh bandages, contemplating them with a pensive expression. It's a bit of a hassle to unwrap the delicate gauze without tearing it. "...I sure hope this will be enough to wrap your shoulder back up. Though I guess I can just run out and buy some more."

"I think that should be enough. And don't worry about running out to get more. I don't want you going out there alone," Leon's voice is more serious than you expect, prompting you to raise a brow at him. He meets your questioning gaze, his face showing a somewhat worried expression. "We're stronger together. Safer together. And after everything we've been through, I don't want to risk us losing sight of each other."

"What do you would even happen, though? We're out now, right? I get that you and Claire want to deal with Umbrella and all, but..." you let out a sigh and move closer to him from behind, beginning to gently wrap the bandage around his shoulder and torso to provide support. Despite the awkwardness and clumsiness of your work, you do your best for him. "-I'm just a normal, boring person with a normal, boring life, y'know. Not much I can do. I'm guessing I'll just... go back home to my State or something. Since Racoon City is obviously... uh... not an option of residence anymore."

Leon nods again as he listens to you. He takes a brief pause, staring down at the fresh bandages layering themselves over his body before returning to look back at you over his shoulder. You lock eyes with him.

"But still... I'd feel better if you stuck with me. Or Claire. At least until you and Sherry are somewhere safe," he shrugs slightly, wincing as the motion immediately strains at his wounded shoulder. "I'm not saying you have to help us take down Umbrella if you don't want to. That's our fight. But... I would feel better knowing that you're safe and protected. And if that means sticking with me until you are, then..."

"-Go easy on that shoulder, will you?" you release a small sigh of frustration when you see him casually shrug and grimace instantly. You place a hand on his uninjured shoulder to acclimate him a bit before continuing bandaging him up.

"Sorry, sorry. Staying still now." A sheepish chuckle leaves him as he gives you an almost guilty look. A trembling breath escapes him as you work at his shoulder. Although it's obvious that he's still uncomfortable, it looks like his pain has eased a little, much to your relief.

You take a deep breath, your expression shifting slightly. Truth be told, you were a bit jealous of Leon's unyielding faith into things somehow working out in the end. It was naive, but... refreshing, too. He continues, his gaze now locked onto you over his shoulder: "And you're not boring, you know. Sure, you may not have any special skills or training, but you're smart. Brave. Resilient. You've survived this far, haven't you?"

You take a brief moment to reflect on his words, with only the faint noise of the gauze being unwrapped and distant sounds from outside permeating the motel room. "-Won't I just be a burden to you guys, though? You're a cop. And Claire is apparently one impressive badass with a gun. I'm not... Ada, either. I'm just... well, me. Not much I can offer to help you in the long run."

You take a brief break to lock eyes with him again. Leon smiles at you faintly, his face now looking more relaxed, no longer wrinkled with the expression of pain: "Well... You've got heart. That counts for something in my book."

"Uh... not to be a downer, but I don't think my 'heart' will keep me safe out there. I never even shot a gun properly before. Until last night that is," you whisper playfully, rolling your eyes at him. Somehow, his words always manage to bring a smile to your face, even if it's a small one. Though he is pretty damn corny. "I guess I could kill zombies with kindness. Do you think my heart is any good for that?"

Leon laughs at that, his eyes twinkling with amusement. It looks like your bluntness didn't bother him much. When you're eventually finished with bandaging him up, you're able to see how well the pure white fabric of the fresh gauze contrasts with the previous dirty and bloody one now lying discarded on the floor. Leon takes a moment to look back down at his freshly bandaged shoulder, too, appreciating your work. At least you hope he did.

"I mean... I could teach you how to shoot properly and all. If you want." He looks back up at you with a genuinely sincere expression on his face. He takes a short pause and a small smile appears on his lips before he adds: "...And I get the feeling you'd be a natural shot from what I've seen from you already."

You only scoff at that, your attention focused on inspecting his body, examining the various cuts and bruises that still marred his skin.

Leon lets out another gentle chuckle at your dismissive response or lack there of, his face showing a combination of amusement and gratitude. Admittedly, you're a bit more huffy with him now that you're out of danger. You can't really help it. But that doesn't mean you don't feel any worry twist in your gut as you look over his bruised body.

"-How about I patch some of these up as well? Since I have all the supplies out and all."

"You sure? I can walk it off just fine," Leon says in a rather playful tone. Though, to make it easier for you to observe his body, he still carefully adjusts his position to face you fully. "Sure, a few cuts and scrapes here and there, and I'm guessing I'm gonna be bruised up pretty bad, but... Nothing to make a fuss about."

You only grace him with yet another deadpan look that makes it clear that you already made the decision for him. So, without saying another word, you grab another wet wipe and begin cleaning out his numerous smaller cuts and gashes scattered here and there, starting with his lower back, as you move behind him once more.

Leon emits a soft hiss, the familiar coldness causing him to shudder against you. He's rather pliable for you, for some reason. You kind of expected him to protest or at least grumble a bit at your incessant coddling. But it seems like he was fine with just letting you play nurse for him. 

"Stay still, will you," you quietly chide him, placing a hand on his back to stop his squirming.

"Sorry, it just stings like hell..." he mumbles as he attempts to remain still for you, his muscles tightened. His body grows increasingly rigid as you continue to tend to his wounds, a trembling exhale leaving his lips. He clenches his teeth again, but he sometimes cannot resist emitting a hiss or gasp here and there. "God, I don't remember the last time I got beat up this bad... I feel like I got hit by a damn train."

You now move to position yourself in front of him to take care of his stomach area. And once again, you find yourself trying to keep your mind from focusing too much on the physical proximity between you two. Especially as you shift to kneel on the floor between his legs, finding no other better option to be level with his lower abdomen in a way that would be comfortable for you.

All you are doing is taking care of his wounds and nothing else.

Leon and you are both acutely aware of how close you are to him now, his breath catching in his throat when you kneel in front of him. But he doesn't say anything about it, and neither do you. After all, saying anything about it would potentially force you to confront some feelings you weren't comfortable confronting quite yet. As you clean up some minor cuts of his, you feel a slight increase in your heart rate despite all your best efforts to keep a level head. However, you try your damnest to put these unwanted feelings aside by reminding yourself that you are simply doing your job.

...Only you certainly can't ignore the fact that you are now essentially kneeling between his legs. Despite this, you persevere in cleaning him up, your hands moving over his chest and abdomen with great care. With too much care, really. There was no reason for you to be so careful and soft with him. But you do so anyways.

Leon watches you intently as you're working on him in tense silence, his eyes fixed on your face, hands, the way your hair occasionally falls over your face from your position, partially obscuring your features from his view. Your gentle assistance causes him to feel a tiny shiver traveling down his spine every time you move your fingers and touch his skin directly. He swallows, clearing his throat.

"Fucking hell... I'm gonna be sore as hell for weeks," Leon lets out a somewhat shaky laugh, trying to adopt a light and casual tone despite the situation. Though, he is mostly just hoping to distract himself from... everything.

...He wonders how your touch would feel on him without the washcloth there to mask it.

You give him a slight shrug in response. "-Sore is better than dead."

Fair.

"Thanks for... taking care of all this. I don't know what I'd do without you right now."

"Probably have Claire do this for me."

Leon laughs nervously, realizing that his attempts at small-talk are not quite working out. He watches you grab the antibacterial cream and move back up to sit behind him on the bed. When you begin applying the cream to his back, he wries slightly but tries his best to remain still for you and conceal the full extent of his discomfort. Your hands on his skin, and the cream's coldness is making him shiver for the countless time today. "...Is the cream really necessary? It's just some cuts and bruises..."

"Yup."

He sighs, hanging his head low and accepting his fate. Once the initial foreign coldness of the cream subsidies, the sensation of your touch on his skin has a strangely relaxing effect on him, especially so when it doesn't involve the aching bullet wound on his shoulder. He leans into your touch mindlessly, despite the ache, feeling his muscles gradually unwind under your care.

He's not necessarily aware of the action. But once he does notice it, he doesn't try to move back, either. After all the stress and pain, it's too much of a relief. And he's far too weak to resist it.

With a small smile on his lips, he glances at you over his shoulder and says: "You know... I've gotta say, being taken care of by a beautiful stranger like you isn't all that bad."

You huff out a surprised laugh at that, giving him a rather adorable-looking eye roll. He feels his smile grow, feeling oddly proud of making you laugh. Even if it was probably at his expense.

"...Not sure how I'm supposed to respond to that, but thank you for the compliment. You're not so bad yourself. For a patient." Your dismissive response at his cheeky remark is something that Leon finds genuinely amusing. He knows he took you by surprise with that. Which was his intention all along.

And just like that, you return back to the floor, settling between his legs and starting to apply cream to the small cuts scattered on his stomach. Like it's no big deal whatsoever. Your calm and nonchalant attitude about this all is kind of driving him crazy. It makes him feel like he's insane for feeling all frazzled by this entire situation. But he keeps his thoughts to himself, not wanting to embarrass himself any further.

Your ghostly touches across his abdomen cause a slight increase in his heart rate, another shudder running down his spine despite his efforts to suppress it. He tries to hide his body's unwelcome reactions to your touch, biting down on his lip, but he can't help but tremble and gasp occasionally, writing it off on the pain in his head. Rather poorly. His body stubbornly refuses to calm down, not when he can feel the sensation of your fingers gliding across his skin so gently, and he just has to sit there deal with it.

...And hopefully avoid getting a very awkward boner, considering your position between his legs.

Trying to keep the mood light, he grins down at you his eyes glued to you as his voice takes on a more joking tone. Though it sounds more shaky and nervous than confident, much to his annoyance: "You don't have to respond. Just take the compliment."

"Gee, thank you. Very gracious of you," you laugh briefly, shaking your head at him. At times, you were too much. Leon wonders if that's how you normally act, when you're not in a life-or-death situation. He was not prepared for you to be so curt and snarky with him. In a way, it was endearing. Though, of course, he wasn't about to admit that outloud.

Regardless, he finds himself shooting his shot again. Almost on impulse.

"Y'know... You're making this whole 'being patched up' thing damn near enjoyable," his tone is playful, but a subtle hint of interest still manages to sneak into his voice, mixed in with his playful words. He was testing the waters. Trying to see just how receptive you were to his flattery that was a bit more flirty in nature.

"Well, at least you're not in pain. That's good enough for me." Your response is almost unfairly simple, prompting him pout a bit as he watches you finish up on the task of tending to his numerous minor cuts and bruises that he acquired the night before. At the very least, this was much easier for him to handle, both physically and mentally, compared to the gruesome bullet wound you just treated. His torso still had a few noticeable bruises and smaller cuts from the previous day, but he definitely looked much better without all the dried up blood and dirt stuck to his skin and making it seem worse than it really was.

With a soft sigh, you pull back from him and look over him, pausing to look at his bruised hands in particular: "-Those probably hurt, no?"

He concentrates on his hands for a good minute, staring down at them and flexing his fingers to gauge their feel. With a slight grimace, he experiences a tiny burst of pain as he moves them, an exasperated huff leaving his lips.

At this point, is there any part of his body that doesn't hurt like a bitch?

"...A bit. Can't say I'm really surprised, though. It's a wonder I have any usable hands left at all, honestly."

His expression softens slightly when he meets your gaze, noticing the crystal-clear worry in your eyes. He finds it charming how much you truly care and desire to help him. You may be a bit more sharp with him, but your genuine concern for him never went away. He's definitely not used to being doted on so much. Though he feels a bit guilty for enjoying it as much as he does.

You shake your head again, giving him a pointed look at his little quip: "Don't get all dramatic now."

He smiles at that.

"No, but really. Thanks for tending to me. I was serious when I said that I wouldn't know what I'd do without you right now," he repeats his previous statement again, mostly because he doesn't really know what else to say. Or, rather, what he wants to say is a bit out of line.

"Nah. I'm not doing anything groundbreaking here. It just helps to keep my hands busy. I'll probably patch up Claire and Sherry once they come back, too." You wave off his gratitude, as always. 

Leon has to refrain from voicing his observations, which directly contradict your words. Which are that you visibly cared more and felt more concerned for him in particular. He didn't want to create an awkward situation between you two. Instead, he watches quietly as you hum and delicately take hold of his hands, bringing them closer to your face to assess the damage. Of course, it wasn't a major problem. In all honesty, you could have concluded this all once you took care of his bullet wound, as it was the only truly crucial matter to deal with. Everything else that followed was rather unnecessary, all things considered.

He freely lets you hold onto his hands without any resistance. His heart flutters slightly as he feels the tenderness of your touch once more. Observing your face, he feels a mix of affection and amusement bubbling in his chest as you examine his hands so thoroughly. Your gaze lingering on his bruised knuckles is something he notices in particular. You're rather attentive with him.

Nonetheless, you pull back once you're satisfied, meeting his gaze. "-It'll probably be good to bandage up those knuckles. Make it less painful for you, at least."

"Yeah, that might not be a bad idea," he says in a light tone, trying to ignore the way his heartbeat steadily accelerates due to the warm sensation of your fingers against his skin with no barriers getting in the way. And ignoring the persistent thoughts of lacing his fingers with yours, just to see how that would feel like.

As you begin silently wrapping his knuckles with gauze, he watches as your hands move gently and precisely over him. Even if it was faint, he couldn't help but notice the contrast between the size of your hands and his own. He almost becomes distracted by the sensation of your touch, but your voice takes him out of it.

"-Nice to know that taking that first aid course back in college wasn't a total waste of time," you muse playfully while you delicately wrap the gauze around one of his hands, making sure not to apply too much pressure on it. The sensation was comforting. By taking care of Leon, you were not only helping him, but also alleviating your own worries following the events of the previous night. In a sense, you were doing this for yourself as much as for him.

"Well, you're really good at this. Maybe you should be a nurse. Look into that." Leon's voice is soft even if his words are teasing, a hint of appreciation or admiration seeping through. You couldn't really tell.

As you scrunch up at him in response to his compliment, Leon giggles. The sound of it feels oddly calm and soothing to you. You are acutely aware of his eyes on you as you swiftly wrap the gauze around his hand, but you do not mention it to him. Considering that you were acting rather excessive with your care for him, you couldn't really blame him for staring. Once you are done with one of his hands, he glances at his freshly bandaged knuckles with a faint smile gracing his lips.

"...Never thought I'd put my skills to use like this though," your say quietly.

"I never thought I'd end up getting shot on my first day on the job, either. Or attacked by a giant alligator. It's been a wild ride, to say the least."

"I guess we all got the rug pulled from under our feet last night, so to speak," you sigh, your brows furrowing a bit as your mind drifts back to the events of the night prior. But you don't dwell on it too much. Focusing instead of the feel of Leon's hand in yours.

As you gradually complete the bandaging on his other hand as well, he continues to watch you in silence, his gaze fixed on your face as you concentrate on your task. You feel a bit sheepish, knowing you are being watched this closely, a warm, ticklish sensation flickering to life in your chest. You sigh and shake it off.

"But hey, I'm grateful I got to meet you. Though that was... one hell of a first meeting," his tone is sincere and quiet, with a genuine intention behind his words you can't overlook even if you try. You are suddenly fully aware that you probably wouldn't have been able to figure out what to do without his presence by your side in duration of that hellish night. In fact, if it wasn't for him, you'd probably be dead. Be it by giving up on fighting and simply accepting your fate, or being far too panicked to get yourself together in a moment of importance.

You wouldn't have survived if you were on your own put there. At least that's what you thought.

"I'm... glad I met you, too. And I'm glad you're here with me, right now."

The ease with which these words just fly out of your mouth is... surprising. A rather long moment of silence follows, only the soft sound of the bandage being wrapped around his other hand and the distant noise of cars outside filling the cramped motel room.

You do not look up at him, but you can be pretty certain that Leon is probably just as taken aback by your unexpectedly moving response. Your heart skips as you swiftly realize the genuine sincerity of your own words that seemed to have a mind of their own. This wasn't like you. Being this open and vulnerable about your feelings. Especially so to someone you've just met. Maybe you were even more of a mess than you thought. But when you do get the courage to sneak a quick glance up at him, his expression is rather soft, much to your surprise. You cannot quite comprehend what is reflected in there, but it brings a warm, blooming feeling to your chest regardless.

"Uh... Thanks," he speaks up eventually, his voice sounding a little rougher than usual, but you are grateful enough that he managed to blurt out at least something to end this heavy beat of silence. The unexpected intensity of the moment has left you feeling a bit flustered and caught off guard, and you never liked not being in control of your emotions.

He continues to watch you as you finish bandaging his other hand, his gaze shifting between your face and his now fully bandaged knuckles. Throughout this quiet but charged process, you deal with a rather strange combination of feelings. Gratitude for his understanding of your odd behavior without focusing on it too much. A fluttery, nervous feeling in your stomach due to your physical proximity to him, making you painfully aware of every rise and fall of his chest with every breath he takes. A burning heat of embarrassment blooming in your cheeks from being so upfront with him all of the sudden.

It was a doozy, to say the least. Especially to your already worn out mind.

You exhale slowly, calming yourself. Leaning slightly back on your knees, you observe his bandaged hands. Despite finding a safe place to rest and sleep without immediate danger, you still feel a sense of unease and uncertainty somewhere in the back of your mind, gnawing at your every thought like an ugly, persistent parasite. And these new emotions you are now dealing with did not help with that feeling of apprehension whatsoever. You're growing increasingly unsure about what to do next or how to proceed after all is resolved. Both short-term as well as long-term. 

Will you just return to your regular daily routine after this? Go back to work like nothing happened? Try out that study program you were so interested in applying for? Visit that new Cafe that opened near your apartment back home?

All of that seems almost impossible now. The same things that used to make you feel hopeful and excited for the future now seemed completely hollow. You felt hollow. Like Racoon City has robbed you of your future, even if it let you escape alive.

But what other option is there for you?

To play hero and risk your life again?

You weren't sure you could handle that, either.

"Hey, I..." Leon starts to speak, breaking you out of your trance, but his voice fades away without ever finishing whatever he was planning on saying to you. He clearly wants to convey something, but he is either unsure of what to say, or is hesitant about speaking his mind at all. You can't really blame him. You find it rather infuriating yourself, trying to find the correct words to express the unique combination of emotions swirling within you chest.

You shake your head, expelling all these unwanted thoughts from your mind. At least for a brief moment.

"-For what it's worth, I really am glad you've survived. With me. And... I'm thankful. For all you did for me. Even though you didn't know me at all."

Your thumbs are absentmindedly brushing against his palm now while you keep your gaze lowered. You don't want to see his face right now. Perhaps, you're just scared to.

"...You may not have saved everybody. Or most people you wanted to save. But... I'm here thanks to you. So... thank you. For saving me," you finish quietly. Taking little time to consider your next action, you find yourself leaning down and gently kissing his bandaged knuckles, lingering there for a few moments before withdrawing. You don't address the issue directly or consider its significance.

You refuse to.

Leon is very much stunned speechless when you go and kiss his knuckles without any warning being given to him, his heart quickly flying up into his throat as he stares down at you, utterly dumbfounded. This was... definitely the last thing he expected you to do, especially after such a heartfelt sentiment that left him feeling rather choked up as it is. He feels a rush of warmth traveling up to his face, causing him to choke on his own words for a good minute. He struggles to find the right words as various emotions overwhelm him all at once. But they didn't feel heavy or painful, like the crushing guilt for those he couldn't protect, or the suffocating ache of betrayal that Ada's deception left him with. 

This was lighter, giving him a much-needed break from all the depressing thoughts and questions buzzing on the front of his mind. But, ironically this was also so much more nerve-wracking to navigate.

He didn't know which on which emotion to focus on, which one to express to you, and whether or not he should express anything at all.

Gratitude for your unconditional comfort. Guilt for making you comfort him in the first place. Confusion at your sudden show of gentle affection he didn't know how to respond to. An inexplicable fluttering sensation making his guts feel all queasy.

You not saying anything to address what just happened doesn't help much with the chaos happening inside his head.

"You..." although he starts speaking, he trails off once again, cursing at himself inside his own head.

You don't seem bothered at all by his lack of a reply. In fact, Leon is kind of uncertain if you even want him to reply in the first place. It doesn't seem like you expect much from him at all. And the situation between you is already too complicated as it is, without all the added weirdness taking place right now. Maybe you didn't want to talk about it at all.

Though, the notion of you simply kissing him like that, without expecting anything from him in return is... more moving than he was willing to admit.

So, despite his disbelief and the whirlwind of emotions wrecking havoc on his already frazzled mind, he just keeps looking at you like. Like a loyal puppy looking at its owner and trying to figure them out. Truth be told, he simply cannot bring himself to look away from you right now, not with the memory of your brief kiss to his knuckles now etched into his mind. Regardless of its simplicity and innocence, the kiss has a deeper meaning for him. Suddenly, he finds himself being struck by your simple beauty: how tired and fragile you truly seem to him in this moment. In a way, you look just like him. Exhausted and battered, but carrying on regardless. There was a certain authentic charm in your disheveled appearance. He finds himself yearning to reach out and hold your hand, to bring your own fingers up to his lips, like you did for him.

...But before he can do or say any of that, you sigh and lift yourself up from your kneeling position beneath him. You release his hands, your thumbs gently brushing along the sides of his palms one last time before you warmth slips away from him completely. Leon continues to watch as you move away from him, feeling an unexpected sense of disappointment coiling deep in his gut despite his efforts to ignore it. He tries his damnest to dismiss this unpleasant feeling, convincing himself to concentrate on whatever you choose to do next instead. Though he does kind of feel like some lovesick puppy, unable to look away from you even for a damn second.

You quickly sit back up onto the motel bed beside him, your eyes traveling up and down his form quietly. He knows you're probably just overlooking his injuries, but he suddenly feels nervous and almost self-conscious under your attention, nonetheless. Mostly because he wants to know what you think of him. Not as a patient, but as a man. He does appear visibly better, though, now that he's at least no longer wearing that dirty, bloody bandage around his shoulder, and his smaller cuts and bruises have been properly cleaned from the stray dirt and blood stuck on them. But he's definitely seen better days.

"-Claire and Sherry sure are taking their time," you say softly, breaking the silence.

"Y-Yeah, they are. They've been gone for a while now. I'm sure they're fine, though. Claire can handle herself," he agrees, his voice sounding strangely squeaky even to his own ears. He cringes inwardly, clearing his throat. His mind continues to race, with thoughts swirling like a tornado within his head. Feeling restless, he shifts uncomfortably on the bed, unable to find the right position.

He's fully aware that his behavior has become noticeably more quiet and reserved compared to before, and he can't help but feel slightly annoyed with himself for making things awkward between you. But he doesn't really know what else to do. Whether you want him to talk about that kiss or not. If he's making a bigger deal out of it than it really is.

If you would be willing to do that again...

He runs his fingers through his unkempt hair with a quiet huff, the subtle sensation of your lips brushing against his knuckles both a blessing and a curse. He's definitely the weird one here. Claire probably would have laughed her ass off at him right now, and he can't really blame her. His gaze is fixed on you, his eyes lingering on your face for far longer than necessary, trying to read between the lines, to figure out what you're thinking in that head of yours. He's itching to say something, anything, to break the weighty silence that has now enveloped the small, confined room... but the words continue to stubbornly elude him. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat again, almost like something got stuck in there. But, really, he is simply suddenly overtaken by a strong desire for physical contact with you. One he isn't sure what to do with.

You shake your head and speak up again, for which he is definitely grateful, his mind instantly rushing to cling to your words. Anything to escape from the rising disarray his head is in.

"Well, hey, at least it gave us a chance to patch you up properly."

You glare at the old bandage, stained with blood from his shoulder's bullet wound, that you had taken off earlier and left crumpled on the floor. As Leon once again remembers the wound on his shoulder, he trembles slightly, following your gaze down at the blood-stained bandage lying on the floor. He finds that cute. How you almost scrunch your nose up at that dirty thing. Like it's a living thing that caused him so much problems.

Despite him being very much shirtless, he still feels a bit too hot for his liking.

"I guess it did, yeah," he says, his voice sounding rather strained. Restlessly, he shifts on the bed again, desperately searching for something else to talk about. However, his mind stubbornly keeps returning to the sensation of your lips on his skin, and an unfamiliar longing gradually rises within him, tugging at his heartstrings...

But longing for what exactly?

He suppresses his thoughts and bites his tongue, feeling a bit embarrassed by the intensity of his desire. He feels like a complete idiot. Getting all worked up over nothing. He glances at you once again, his eyes lingering on your face momentarily before dropping to your hands resting in your lap.

"Uh... thanks again, by the way. You know. For taking care of me and all," he blurts out, trying to resist the temptation to reach out and hold your hand, his own hands now clenching into fists on either side of him on the bed.

"No problem. We're a team, remember?" you say in a more cheerful manner, giving him a slight smile. One that he returns almost on a whim. Though, as you look at him a bit closer, you hum and reach back for the antibacterial cream. Before he knows it, he feels the pads of your fingers dabbing the cool cream on the side of his cheek. You applying the cream to his cheek leaves him feeling a slight sting, but the warmth of your touch on his skin helps to distract him from it. He didn't even realize he had a cut there. He's pretty sure it was relatively tiny. It wasn't really needed at all to take care of it, but you still did it anyway, and your smile grew a little wider as you pulled your hand away. "-There. Good as new. Y'know... ignoring the bullet wound, huge scary bruises and a good number of cuts."

Despite knowing he's far from 'good as new', Leon can't help but laugh at your playful comment. It helps him relax a little, some weight lifted off his shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, keep making fun of me. You didn't like it so much when those dogs were trying to bite your face off, huh?" A small smirk forms on his face as he teases you back in a lighthearted manner that a good friend would. Though,  the subject is rather... morbid. But it helps to joke about those things. A little.

He wants to say more, to come up with something witty or charming, maybe even muster up some cheesy pick-up lime to try and see if he can get away with it. But as he glances at you again, his words become stuck in his throat all over again. It's impossible for him not to focus on your face, taking in every tiny detail and drinking them all in with a hunger that feels almost scarily insatiable. This particular moment between you two has an oddly charged quality to it, as if there's more than just friendly banter filling the stale air of the motel room. He feels an intense and unexplainable desire to be closer to you, to touch you, to...

He swallows hard, trying to push these invasive thoughts out of his head. He chastises himself internally for being absurd. After all, you're just a friend and teammate. Supposedly. Whatever you were to him, his behavior is strange, like an infatuated teenager with a pathetic crush he has no idea what to do with. For fuck's sake, he is a 21-year-old police officer.

...Technically speaking, that is.

But he lacks any sort of control over his heart rate or sweaty palms. He can't help but look down at your lips repeatedly, as if he's being persuaded to do so against his own will.

As you let out a weary sigh of your own, you seem to be utterly oblivious to the inner struggle he is currently experiencing unbeknownst to you. The room is quiet, but your troubled and contemplative gaze is fixed ahead of you instead of looking at him. Leon doesn't know if that makes him feel better or worse. A huge, pathetic part of him wants your eyes to be on him, to be your center of attention like he was moments prior. But another part of him is utterly mortified at the prospect, knowing he'll probably just fumble like an idiot if you were to meet his blatant stare right now.

He's stuck between a rock and a hard place.

The shutter cracks welcome the morning sunlight in, creating long, bright yellow stripes across your features. You look beautiful like this, but he can't help but want to know what's on your mind that has you looking so distant, like you're in a world completely separate from this one. And them, much like you did with the kiss to his knuckles, you don't say anything to warn him. He just watches as you lean down and rest your head on his good shoulder. You remain silent, immersed in your own thoughts. Almost like it's a completely normal thing to do between you two. Or maybe you just don't want to address it? He couldn't really figure it out. He couldn't figure you out. And he couldn't really figure himself out, either. 

Everything was a big, convoluted mess.

Another strong rush of emotions hits him straight across the face at the sudden closeness you grace him with. It's funny, really. Here he was, wanting to get all close and personal with you, and now that that's exactly what's happening, his brain is completely blank. He makes an effort to take a deep breath, but it comes out shaky and uneven. He is also suddenly acutely aware of his own lack of clothing on his upper half. He longs to express himself to you in some meaningful way, but still finds himself unable to say a single damn word. A chaotic mix of thoughts and cravings overwhelms his mind, taking over his every sense. Gradually, he does manage to bring himself to move. To extend his arm and gently drape it around your shoulders, drawing you in closer to him, watching how you'd react and if he should pull back and shower you with awkward apologies that were already forming on the tip of his tongue. He can sense the gentle, rhythmic pulsation of your heart against his bare skin, and that feeling is almost intoxicating in how soothing it is.

He kind of wishes he could lay his head down directly on your chest, just to listen to your heartbeat. That would certainly keep his head empty of any and all thoughts, big and small.

You make a soft noise that sounds like one of approval, moving slightly closer to him, your bodies now comfortably intertwined in a clumsy side-snuggle. A surge of protectiveness suddenly comes over Leon when you cuddle closer to him like that. Silently, he squeezes you a just a little bit tighter, letting a pleasant shiver run down his spine as your body touches his, filling out the dips and contours of his form with your own, almost like two puzzle pieces fitting together. The gesture holds an undeniable amount of intimacy, and he feels a strong desire to just keep holding you and never let go.

Now, Leon finds himself being silent to conserve the moment, rather than due to awkwardness. There is a delicate sense of wordless understanding and reliance that has formed between you, without it having to be solely platonic or romantic in nature. He's uncertain how to interpret it exactly, and whether you even want him to interpret it in some specific way. For now, he simply acknowledges that your warm presence near him sooths him in a way that he desperately needs, regardless of what that entails for you two. In a way, it gives him a feeling of calmness he was longing for this entire time. A brief reprieve from all the chaos and uncertainty of the past, present,  and future.

He leans forward, carefully placing his chin on top of your head, and then closes his eyes, focusing on nothing but the soft feeling of your body pressed against his. He can hear the soft and soothing sound of your breath and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, which makes him feel strangely...

At peace.

He can feel you nuzzle into him ever so slightly, clearly being careful not to disturb his achy shoulder, which makes him smile fondly, finding the gesture endearing in a pure and uncomplicated manner. It is comforting to not be alone, in a fundamentally human sense. Maybe he needed a moment such as this one for a while now. He just didn't know that until he had it.

Leon inhales the scent of your hair as he takes a deep breath. It smells of motel's cheap shampoo, which is unsurprising. All four of them probably smell the same right now. But he doesn't really care. He is unable to resist the urge to bury his nose into your hair slightly, as if attempting to absorb your scent. Is that a bit weird on his part? Maybe. But he feels far too content to care about his dignity at this point.

Tgough, the moment breaks rather abruptly, as you move pull back from him, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. Leon feels a familiar sense of disappointment deep in his gut when you withdraw from him, but he tries his best to conceal it from you, not wanting to appear too needy in front of you. Even if he really was needy. Despite his heart still racing, he shakes it off and attempts to appear unaffected. Very poorly.

"...Sorry. You must be cold like that. The cream probably settled already, so..." you mutter out without looking at him directly, but he cuts you off, the words leaving the tip of his tongue before he can think them through.

"It's fine," his tone is gruff. "I'm not cold."

Despite being aware that there is nothing inherently intimate about this situation, he still feels oddly exposed in front of you. The thought of you observing his bare skin out in the open only increases his already fast-paced heartbeat. After all the events of the night before, it feels... strange to feel his blood pumping in his temples, and it not being a result of something horrifying or life-threatening. He attempts to divert his eyes from you, but they persistently return back to your face. He was being drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Though, your warmth was nothing like one coming from a flame. He wasn't scared of you burning him if he gets too close. No, rather, he was terrified of your gentle light to turn off, leaving him without its comforting warmth to grasp onto.

He can't help but focus on your lips in particular, already reminiscing about the moment you kissed his knuckles. His thoughts are now pretty much haunted by this one memory, replaying it incessantly like a broken record.

Don't give in, don't give in, don't give in...

He repeats it to himself in his own head, but he finds it increasingly harder and harder to follow his own advice. His hands are clenched tightly on his lap, causing his bruised knuckles ache in protest. But it's all he can do to resists the urge to reach out to you, and...

"-Sorry," you suddenly repeat, your attention fully focused on his tightly clenched hands. Damn it, you probably think he's uncomfortable or something. He can see that guilty look in your eyes, and he hates it. He doesn't want you to look at him like that. "I... didn't mean to make things weird. Don't worry about it. I don't-"

Leon shakes his head, but keeps looking straight at your face dutifully. His heart is beating so fast that it seems like it could burst straight out of his chest any moment now, eager to show you how excited you truly make him with the smallest of things. It's becoming almost too much for him to handle the desire to kiss you. And not just your knuckles.

"No... it's not that," he protests in a slightly hoarse voice. His words stop as he shifts his eyes down to your lips again and then back up to meet your hesitant gaze, searching for something he can't really put his finger on. He is able to see every aspect of your face crystal clear in the soft light of the morning sun: the way your eyelashes create faint shadows on your cheeks, the gentle curve of your lips, the subtle color flush on your skin. "You didn't make things weird. I just..."

Your lashes flutter, your body tensing ever so slightly as you finally take notice of his very apparent staring, causing Leon to hold his breath momentarily. A part of him expects to receive a scolding he probably deserves. But it never comes. Instead, an unexpected sense of tension settles between you, catching him completely off guard and leaving him uncertain about where this was going exactly. Or maybe he just doesn't want to acknowledge the truth. Even so, he allows it to persist and guide him without any resistance or attempts to distance himself from you. Not that he wants to resist this pull in the first place.

He can almost taste the saltiness of your skin on his lips. He can almost hear the soft sound of your breath. And he can almost sense the subtle scent that is uniquely yours. The emotional intimacy between you is almost too much for him handle. So, without much thought, he moves in and gently cups your cheek, lifting your face towards his, wanting - no, needing - to be closer to you.

"...Leon?"

The subtle sound of your voice uttering his name causes his heart to stop momentarily. He can see it in your eyes that you do understand the silent implication behind this sudden action of his. After all, clarification is not exactly necessary to catch on to what he trying to do here. The feel of your skin beneath his fingers sends a slight shiver through his body. Despite this, your eyes remain locked together, almost as if you were sharing a wordless conversation between each other.

Leon swallows. He gently strokes your lower lip with his thumb, relishing in the sensation of it beneath his fingertip. Even if it's chapped and dry from last night's events. His voice is just a soft whisper now as he voices the silent question that's on the forefront of his mind: "...Can I kiss you?"

There is a moment of hesitation between you, but you don't move to pull away or reject him. He can guess that you're mulling over your own thoughts and doubts in that pretty head of yours. Though he wishes he could know what you're thinking of right now. If you want this as much as he does. But he waits patiently for you to share your answer with him once you do find it. Whatever it may be.

And then, you give him a slow nod.

As you stare back at him, Leon feels a sudden tightness in his throat. He knows he's being a bit too emotional about all of this, but your little nod feels like an agreement, approval, and acceptance all at once. Without any further delay, he leans in and gently cups your other cheek now as well, holding your face in his palms, letting your breaths mix for just a smidge of a moment.

Is it a wise decision? Clearly not. You've just met. The fact that you were able to survive a dangerous and challenging situation together doesn't alter that fact. However... in a way, it still does. Leon feels secure with you. The unspoken trust built between you two is difficult to articulate in words. The kind of trust that can only form when you experience a challenging ordeal only you can understand the full extent of. Which is why he doesn't try to explain it. Not when you two can explore it through action, instead.

When he does finally lean towards you, you meet him halfway, much to his relief, your lips inevitably locking together lightly. He closes his eyes and drinks in the delicate sensation of warmth and comfort that comes from sharing this simple human contact with you. The sensation of your lips on his makes Leon's mind blissfully empty. He resists the urge to embrace you tightly and hold you close. Compared to the intense passion he feels burning within his chest, the kiss itself feels hesitant and almost innocent in nature. Nonetheless, it triggers a pleasant surge of heat in his veins. He can feel the warm of your hand on his skin as you place it atop of one of his own hands cradling your cheeks, causing his heart to beat even faster within his chest.

Your circumstances don't make it particularly romantic or mind-blowing. The kiss is a bit clumsy, as first kisses usually are, when you don't exactly know how to fall into step with the other person yet. Your lips are dry and cracked, just like his are, due to the previous night. There is even a faint taste of blood that can be felt in the kiss, as one of you definitely split their lip during the numerous falls you both endured. However, none of that is a major issue for him. If anything, it makes it more precious in his mind. How real and authentic it feels.

The kiss is a soft and lingering one that doesn't extend beyond that.

And when you eventually pull apart from one another, concluding the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, keeping his eyes closed tightly, a shaky breath leaving his lips. Your hand remains on top of his, the touch bringing him a nice feel of wordless reassurance. That you're really there. That you did just kiss, and it wasn't just some weird trick of his frazzled mind.

You weren't going away. Nor were you asking anything of him with that kiss. It was just a kiss. No hidden meanings or agendas in mind. Somehow, that makes it all that much more meaningful for him.

There is a strange sense of vulnerability he has to get used to, both physically and emotionally. The intensity of his emotions causes his body to tremble slightly against you. He remains close to you like this for a couple of long minutes, unprepared for the enchanting moment to come to its inevitable end. He absorbs the subtle scent of your hair hitting his nose, the warm sensation of your skin on his, and the soothing sound of your breath. He longs for this moment to last, and finding his voice again after kissing becomes a rather difficult task.

You also exhale, calming down after that short but sweet moment of connection with him. You don't express much about what just happened between you. You don't think it's even necessary. You simply know that it was sincere and enjoyable. And it seems that Leon felt the same way, too. At least you hope he does. Whatever that meant for your relationship in the long run, you know you don't regret it. You keep your eyes shut for a few more moments, staying close to him.

"Y/N..." he whispers your name in a low voice that sounds almost shy. You can't help but find the sound of him like this rather adorable, your heart giving out a subtle flutter in your chest.

Leon opens his eyes slightly, the blues of his irises meeting yours intently as you follow suit. The soft kiss you just shared is still running through your heart, leaving you feeling just slightly giddy. As you often do after kissing someone you like for the first time. And that dopey look of his is just too damn cute to bear.

So, you blurt out the first thing you that comes to mind. 

"...You know, I actually hate cops."

Leon blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice.

...Alright, that was probably not the most romantic thing to say right after kissing him for the first time.

"Uh... Really?" he manages to ask, even though he's obviously still very much dazed from the kiss. Which is honestly kind of endearing, considering how it was just a short but sweet little kiss. You can't help but wonder how he'd look if you kissed him again, properly this time. How he would look at you if you were to lean in and kiss him senseless. But you don't do that. For now, at least. Either way, it's obvious that the emotional whiplash you just gave him with your silly comment only contributed to the stupefied look he's giving you. "But you just kissed one..."

Leon's lips form a small but genuine smile as he lets out a quiet little laugh, a clear hint of disbelief in his voice. You feel his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks gently as he continues to hold your face in his hands, the sensation warm and comforting to your heart.

"Huh. You're right. I guess I'm being a bit hypocritical today," you chortle, a small giggle leaving your lips in return. You can see his smile growing in response to your laugh, and it's a sight a bit too adorable for you right now.

He has a pretty smile.

"I guess you are," he agrees, his eyes briefly glancing over your face, as if he was taking in your features. Or maybe he was just marveling at how beat up you look. "But I don't mind. I think... I sort of like you being hypocritical. Just a little."

With another soft laugh, you gently squeeze his hand on your cheek, tilting your head to the side slightly and resting your face against his palm, practically nuzzling into a bit. You press his hand closer to your cheek and close your eyes for a moment, a content sigh leaving your lips. Your peaceful expression of serenity mirrors Leon's, as he looks on at you with that same sense of quiet satisfaction and solace that was filling the quiet space between you.

Your chest tightens as you feel his thumbs stroke your skin again, the touch gentle and light. The soothing warmth and softness of his skin on yours causes your heart to skip a beat. You suddenly find yourself seriously struggling to resist the urge to kiss him again. It wasn't just a passing curious thought anymore, but a genuine desire you are itching to fulfill. But, for now, you just exhale and enjoy this fragile moment as it is. At this very minute, all the chaos and peril you two have dealt with vanish from your mind at long last. Replaced by this tranquil, modest motel room, reserved only for you and him. At the very least, for this brief moment.

Unfortunately, your little exchange is abruptly interrupted by the earth-shattering sound of a door suddenly bursting open, none other than Claire entering the compact room without any warning given to either of you. That, or maybe you two were just far too lost in each other to hear the approaching footsteps or chatter. A peppy grin is brightening up the redhead's features as she strides in with no care in the world, seemingly far too engrossed into some vigorous discussion with Sherry to fully notice you quite yet. If it wasn't for the situation at hand, you'd probably comment on how buddy-buddy they looked: swaggering in hand-in-hand, almost like two sisters would. 

The entire space is quickly overpowered with the strong aroma of freshly cooked greasy food, and you immediately feel your stomach twist and turn in clear demand for some much-needed sustenance. The bags of what looked like your standard roadside diner takeout sure looked promising right about now.

"Rise and shine, dynamic duo! Breakfast's here- Oh."

As Claire's bright eyes inevitably land on the two of you, she stops right in her tracks, just blinking at you for a second or two. Sherry, in turn, appears to be just as surprised, not that you expected anything else at this point. 

...And you feel a strong urge to sink straight into the ground.

As if he's been burned, Leon abruptly jerks away from you and releases his hold on your face. Your heart pounds all the way up in your throat, and you can already feel the heat of embarrassment rushing to your face. Glancing over at Leon, he doesn't seem to be handling it all that much better, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted in silent protest that just didn't form yet. Though, there is also a subtle hint of embarrassed annoyance flashing through his eyes as he meets Claire's look. A look that is no longer surprised, but instead, expecting. And a bit smug.

You're in for a questioning. 

As expected, she is quick to regain her cool, raising her brows at both of you and closing the door with her hips, an incredulous snort leaving her lips. You can already guess that she's not going to live this down for the two of you. Before you can open your mouth and stutter out some type of excuse that would hopefully sound decent, Leon beats you to it.

"Jesus Christ, Claire! Knock much?" he grumbles out in a raspy and slightly trembling voice. If it wasn't for the burning embarrassment raging inside your head, you would have thought that was cute. He isn't really fooling anyone.

"Excuse me," Claire muses in a slightly humorous manner. "Care to tell what's gotten you shirtless? Or... who?"

Now it's up to you to sputter as you stumble over your words to try and rectify the situation.

"I-I was just changing his bandages!"

Claire just laughs at that, with Sherry now joining in a fit of giggles. The sound is lighthearted in nature, though. Just harmless fun that just happens to be at your expense. Well, partially. Your only choice is to accept your defeat, hanging your head low with a flustered groan. Leon's embarrassment only increases as laughter rings out. He crosses his arms over his chest, a pout quickly taking form on his face.

"Ugh, you two really have a knack for bad timing. And... for the record, it's none of your business what we were doing," even though he tries to sound irritated, his flushed face and the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips diminish the desired effect, making his effort useless.

"-Whatever you say, loverboy," Claire deadpans, giving you both a knowing smirk as she waves Leon off. It's apparent that she doesn't believe any of your shared excuses. Not that you can blame her. You'd probably act the same if you switched places. She takes her sweet time placing the warm fast-food bags on the nearest counter and brushing her hands off on her jeans. "Anyway, you better get dressed before the grub gets cold and soggy."

In spite of all the embarrassment, you can't help but chuckle sheepishly and shake your head. Despite being flustered, it's almost... comforting to share such a normal, simple moment over some silly accident instead of a high-stakes situation. You'll take getting teased by Claire over running for your life any day.

You watch as Leon huffs and puffs at Claire fruitlessly. He mumbles something inaudible under his breath, unfolding his arms, and quickly walking across the room to pick up his discarded shirt from the ground. He hastily puts it back on, all while stealing a couple of glances back at you. You don't know if he's trying to subtle about it, but if he is, it's definitely not working. A small, almost bashful smile appears on his face as he does, similar to the one you give to your crush when you think they're not looking. It's cute. You can't help but return it with a smile of your own.

"Well I think you two look cute," Sherry joins in, her hands resting on her hips as her blue eyes dart between you two with eager curiosity. You can already tell that you're in for a game of 20 questions after this. Or something similar.

"Cute, huh...?" Sherry's charming comment seems to inspire Leon's bashful smile to grow in confidence while he looks down at her. He almost appears a bit cheeky, as raises an eyebrow and gives you a quick side-eyed look. "What do you think? Do we make a cute couple?"

"...Don't get cocky now," you huff out with a lighthearted roll of your eyes, prompting him and Claire to chuckle.

As you go to grab some much-needed food, you feel oddly light, both in mind and spirit. All the anxieties and uncertainties about your future seem to have eased away, letting you enjoy the peacefulness of now, instead of worrying about tomorrow.

Whatever happens next, you just know that everything will turn out fine.

As long as you stick together.

[wonderholegifs]

Rhett & Link's Wonderhole

[wickjump]

im gonna start posting fanfic recs btw whenever i find good ones. both here and my (awfully barren) 18+ account. because there are so many good fics out there with so few hits and fewer kudos and sometimes no comments period and it SUCKS because i REALLY LIKE THEM A LOT.. and i hope that by linking them here and yelling at everyone to COMMENT DAMMIT they might actually do it

seriously though any comment means a lot. most people who read a fic don’t even give a kudos. even if the fic wasn’t top tier, if you didn’t dislike it, hand over some kudos!! and if you liked it, comment!!!! even if the comment is one singular heart emoji it will be appreciated. if the comment just says “great fic!” the author will be happy. your comment doesn’t have to be this long winded gushing or analysis.

so many authors quit writing or lose motivation because the comments are few and far in between or just sometimes nonexistent. trust me when i say authors don’t care about how long or cool or smart sounding your comment is i promise!!!

i hope that mmmaybe recommending fics and telling people to comment might help fics i really like get more support maybe. and i, points at you reading this, hope that you will listen!!!at least a little….at least sum kudos….

[loumandforyou]

To continue @dreadfuldevotee 's s3 canon that Armand and Louis are having angry post divorce sex... what happens if they accidentally hold hands after they fuck cause it was always a silent part of their aftercare? Would they just end up arguing which could end up in more sex? Would they ignore it and hate themselves for it? Would they—

[ancha-aus]

Ghost & Medium AU Drabble - The Necromancing Medium

Remember how I said I had an idea? That was angst and heartbreaking? This is the idea :D Again, still not sure if they will become a whole series thing.

The drabble is both a thank you for everyone being nice and drawing stuff and writing stuff! And also because I had an idea and as all of you know. I don't have self control :D

This one again includes a lot of my own headcanons for this idea/AU and even Dust. The most obvious one that I should probably mention? That Ash is the older brother and Dust is the younger brother.

Anyway. How Dust got so into necromancy and medium stuff and the tragedy that was his and his older brother's life.

WARNINGS: Child death. Survivor's guilt. implied child abuse. Child Neglect. Mention and implied child harrassment and molestation. attempt at child grooming (the bad BAD kind). technically attempted suicide. nothing is graphic or overexplained but it is implied and slightly mentioned.

I am serious. This one is angst and trauma filled and I am trying to not make it too triggering for anyone but please be careful, mind the warnings and if you aren't 18+ don't read.

*------------------*

Dust rubs his hands down his pants and checks the circle he made.

This has to work.

It just has too.

If this doens't work then... then...

Dust quickly grabs the book near him and squints his sockets at the writen words. It is old and written in another language but Dust has figured out most of it.

He is very lucky the library is open for eveyrone or else he would not have had a place to reasearch... or sleep... or wash up...

It doesn't matter. This ritual should fix everything.

Ash appears near him and glares at the drawn circle "Oh for crying out loud. Not another one of these."

Dust hugs the book closely "This one will be different..." It has to be.

Ash sighs as he floats near Dust "look... I appreciate it.. but i don't want to feel like i am being thorn apart again okay? It is about to rain soon anyway...." he looks up.

Dust nods "It has to rain..."

After all... it had rained the day Ash was murdered. It is part of the ritual to help the soul return.

Ash sighs and shakes his floating skull. He is clearly disappointed.

Dust frowns and tries to focus on the circle he is making. It has to be perfect. How else will he get Ash back?

He still remembers it so clearly.

Dust waits in his room for Ash to return from his after school activities. He is the star gymnastic at school and has a scholarship lined up for him for when he goes to college and to continue training.

Dust knows that it is just a matter of time before Ash is requested for the olympics. Ash is just that amazing! Even at fifteen Ash is many times better than most!

Dust himself doesn't have any after school activities. He normally just watches Ash and walks home with Ash afterwards. Dust gets why of course. He has no talents whatsoever. His parents have told him that many times.

At least Ash likes having him around and giving him ideas for tricks!

Dust looks at the clock and frowns. It is well past dinner time... their parents having gone out for food themselves.

He... he had hoped that when Ash got back Ash and him could make something together. ash had been teaching him how to cook. Said that it was an important skill for him to learn even if he was only ten.

More time passes. No one comes home.

It is half past eleven when the front door opens and Dust peaks out only to quickly disappear into his room again. His parents are home. Why isn't Ash home yet? Did he have another meetup? extra training? Did he go out wiht friends?

He goes to sleep uneasy and hungry.

His guts twist together and his dreams quickly form. Visions of lives never his own. of the restless spirits who try to speak to him and pull him along. Take his body and his energy.

Ash is the only one who believes him. When Dust told him that Dust hadn't thrown over the glass vase but a ghost had done it. When something went missing Dust swore he hadn't touched it. No one ever believed him. Except Ash.

The Dreams change and suddenly Ash stands before him. Looking angry.

Dust doesn't get it... Why is Ash angry? Ash is never angry with him.

Dust reaches for him "Ash?"

Ash pulls away from him. He looks furious "find me."

Dust blinks but takes a step away from his brother "what?"

Ash groans and waves out his arms "Find me! Use your stupid powers and find me!"

Dust doesn't understand. Why would he need to find him? "But.. you were at practise?"

Ash groans "Fuck you are just so stupid sometimes!"

That hurts and Dsut hugs himself "I... I will search?"

Ash goes to say something else but then he is gone.

Then Dust wakes up. it is still early but he grabs his few school things and escapes the house before his parents wake up. He rushes to school and looks around. Searching.

He isn't sure what he is searching for. But if Ash tells him he needs to find him he can. He will figure out why Ash would appear in his dreams like other spirits but that is for later. He needs to find his brother. Maybe he got locked in somewhere? Or maybe he got hurt and can't move?!

Dust rushes towards the gym

He quickly gets inside but every light is still off. Everything is cleaned up and empty. Then again it is only 6 and the morning workouts don't start until half past 6.

Still. Dust rushes towards the locker rooms and searching both sides. Finding nothing there he searches the toilets next before returning to the empty gym.

"Dust! what are you doing here?"

Dust jumps and turns quickly. It is the coach. Dust can never remember his name and honestly he never wants to. Dust... doesnt like being near the other. Something about him is off. Maybe it is because the spirits seem to glare at the coach whenever they pass. Maybe it is because Dust thinks the man stares too long when his brother practised.

Dust told Ash once. How he doesn't like Coach and how the spirits dislike him too. Ash had just smiled and said that Coach was actually always very nice and took them all serious and treated them as adults.

Dust shrugs at the teacher as the other waits for a reply. He mutters a weak excuse "wanted to see brother practise..." he rubs his arm.

Every spirit is screaming at him. He doesn't understand what they say. he thinks spirits need to be strong for him to be able to hear or see them but he can feel them still. The spirits are tugging at him. To go. to leave. to go with them? Dust doesn't know what they want.

Coach nods "I see! I am sorry to disappoint. I haven't seen your brother yet. Not since yesterday morning practise!"

Dust frowns "Ash doesn't skip." Ash never skips. He has more determination than anyone.

Coach nods "I agree. I was going to see if Ash joins us for practise today. If he didn't i was planning on calling your parents. Do you wish to wait with me?"

Dust shakes his skull "No that is okay... I am going to keep searching..." and he rushes out of the door before Coach can answer.

Dust can't believe he was that stupid. two years and he still feels like kicking himself in the skull for not seeing it sooner. To not realise it sooner. Maybe if he had noticed the obvious clues...

Ash wouldn't... He wouldn't have...

It doesn't matter.

Dust lays down another line and checks the ritual in the book. That all looks right and the same. He nods and reaches for his necklace.

Ash looks alarmed "Hey! What are you doing? Stop that my dust is in there!"

Dust freezes and mutters "I don't need all of it... just a tiny bit for the ritual..."

Ash looks deeply unhappy as he mutters "But it makes sure i am anchored to you still... at least until you can do the whole haunting bond thing."

Dust shrugs "if this works you won't need to anchor to your dust or me anymore." this will fix eveyrthing. He will make it right.

Ash looks unsure but floats near him as he gets things ready.

The news of Ash's disappearance shook the school. Dust swore he searched everywhere! He tried to get answers from Ash in his dreams but all the dream Ash told him was to 'search' and to 'actually think for once.'.

His parents were inconsolable. Neither were the teaches adn other students. Ash was loved. Ash was wanted. Ash had a bright future ahead of him.

Dust... Dust was lucky that Ash liked him...

Though... dream Ash didn't like him at all it seemed... dream Ash was just angry at him.

Dust knew what they whispered of course. It wasn't as if anyone tried to hide it. People spoke about how it was a shame that Ash had disappeared. How it was a shame it hadn't been Dust instead.

Dust tried not to let it bother him. He was always the weird kid. He had always been the weird kid. He spoke to people not there. strange things happened around him. Dust seemed to lie about thingsthat he obviously did because no one else was near to could ahve caused it.

He hadn't cared much before even if it hurt to not be believed becuase at least Ash had believed him.

His parents hadn't been for whispers however. They just looked at him and sneered that it should ahve been him who disappeared. not their dear golden boy who had such a bright future and would have made them proud. instead they were stuck with him, the disappointing freak.

Dust hadnt gone home since Ash didn't return home.

others whispered that Ash ran away.

But Dust knew that wasn't the case! It couldn't be! Ash... Ash wouldn't just leave! Not without him!

When their parents argued and on nights after they yelled at him. Ash would hold him close. promise that once he was old enough the two of them would just disappear. that Dust just had to be patient. Once Ash went to college he would take Dust wiht him and they would never have to see their parents ever again.

Ash... ash wouldn't break that promise. Ash was honest! Ash kept his promises! always!

Dust sobs as he hides beneath the seats. Hiding.

"Dust? Waht are you doing here?"

Dust blinks through the tears and looks up. He sobs as he pushes himself upright. Ash. Ash. IT IS ASH! He jumps to hug him only to go right through him and land in the mud leftover from the rain.

He turns and realises... he had been so focussed on his face that... that is only a floating skull and hands... but... but that can't be...

Ash flickers in and out of view. He moves his mouth clearly speaking but Dust can't hear anymore.

No... no no no no. He needs to tell people. Something terrible happened to Ash!

Dust finishes the last view lines and reads the information given in the book.

Ash frowns as he flies over and around it "It looks complex... Waht ritual is this even?"

Dust rechecks the text "A Life force transfer."

Ash blinks and turns sharply "what?"

Dust nods as he checks the different tinier circles to signify where eveyrone has to stand "I think... the reason why the other spells failed was because you don't have enough life force. which i think is just soul energy. You died and are just your left over soul energy now. that affects how you look and everything. It is why we need to anchor you with your dust." he taps his pendant. "Which is why we even use this."

Ash frowns and looks at the ritual considerate "So what... you think we just need to boost my life force and i may be able to be resurrected?"

Dust nods "That is the plan."

Ash frowns "I don't know about this Dust... stealing someone else's life?"

Dust shrugs "It is fine. The one who gives it needs to be willing."

Ash snrots and shakes his skull "Who would be an idiot big enough to give their life force awya freely?"

Dust shrugs "don't worry... i got that part of the ritual covered. Mind going over there? I need to check if the runes to transfer the energy to you would work."

No one believed him.

Everyone just looked at him with pity when he told them he saw his brother's spirit.

that his brother had been murdered or got into an accident.

He wouldn't have left him otherwise!

No one believed him. No one.

The funeral was terrible. He hated every second of it as they jsut spoke some words. They didn't even have his brother's dust to spread on his favourite things.

his parents wanted to do a burial. Even though Dust knew Ash hated the idea of being underground. All that meant was that most things important to Ash were being burried.

forever out of reach. Now he can't even get comfort out of those things.

Dust goes home wiht his parents but neither look at him beyond this dirty look. Dust doesn't care. He has a mission.

His brother's spirit is weak. very weak. He can do some rituals to strengthen it maybe. normally offerings and stuff like that works to get spirits to be stronger, at least for a little while.

If Dust wants to find his brother he needs to do that.

He grabs what he needs and goes back to the school. It is where Ash spend most of his time and most liekly has the strongest imprint of him. Not to forget dust saw him on the sport field. He gets there and makes the offering.

A flicker. Dust smiles but Ash just looks panicked. Telling him to go. let him go as well.

Dust shakes his head. he can't let go of Ash.

Ash is still too weak to say a lot but a tiny bit gets through "... stay away... coach..."

oh. it is so obvious! Of course the creepy coach had something to do with it! Dust stands up and looks at the gym. So that is where the answers lie. Ash looks more panicked but Dust just smiles at him "It is okay Ash... I swear i will fix this!"

He will find out what happened. make sure Coach got what he deserved for hurting his brother and then... then... Ash can move on... Ash will be able to rest...

Ash will leave him...

No. don't think like that. Ash deserves to move on. Ash deserves to find peace! even if it means Dust will lose him forever. He won't force Ash to become a wandering restless spirit.

Ash is shaking his skull at him and trying to keep him from going towards the gym. That is fair. it ist still night. He will need a better timing for this. luckily it is the weekend soon and he will be able to get to work.

Dust nods and smiles "ther. everything is in place."

Ash frowns as he floats above it "so let me be clear." he points to one spot "this is the spot of the life force giver." he floats to another spot "This is the spot of the life force gainer, me?" Dust nods and Ash floats to the small circle wiht the tiny bit of dust "why is the dust needed?"

Dust looks to the side "To make your body... I had to combine the ritual to give you life force and to give you a body... otherwise you would just get m- the giver's body and i doubted you like that."

Ash blinks and snorts "I thought you tod me that performing two rituals at once is too dangerous for mixups or to drain you." he grins at him "You can be so forgetful sometimes."

Dumb and stupid and useless-

Dust shrugs "It is better if it is done at once..." he mutters softer "only get one chance at this..."

Ash frowns at him and flaots over "hey... i know i made a big deal of the whole... it hurting thing before... but if you mess up and mix up words we can try again." he grins "I am already dead anyway. can't get much deader!"

Dust shrugs "maybe..." No. there is only one chance at this. It has to be perfect.

He gets one chance at this.

Dust stands before the office of the coach and takes a deep breath. trying to ignore the panicked flickering vision of his brother.

He was such an idiot. his brother had tried to warn him before in his dreams. yet Dust hadn't seen the signs. if he had done this that day... Ash may still be alive.

It is oaky though. Dust can do this.

He knocks on the door.

everything in the air is screaming at him. spirits of his past victims maybe? All trying to warn him to run and hide. Dust will not let his brother become just another wandering spirit. stuck to this disgusting excuse of a person.

The door opens and the coach gives a wide smile "Dust! I am so happy to see you. How are you doing? The news of your brother must have devastated you."

Dust nods and mutters "I miss him.. a lot.. but he liked gymnastics... i was wondering... could i get some training?"

The man blinks before his smile grows and he looks very excited "of course! It is an amazing thing to want to connect with your brother that way. such a grown up thing to do to!" he steps aside.

Dust is about to take a step when ash appears in the doorway. his arms crossed and him shaking his skull.

Dust takes a deep breath and walks into the office.

Coach and him... talk... it is mostly about ash. How ash was so far ahead of everyone. the hardest worker and how he was admired by everyone around him. How he enchanted people.

Dust agrees of course. his brother is the best. Which is why he is here.

Coach mentions that it may be hard for Dust to do what Ash did. As ash was older and had been training from a young age. But that he was willing to give Dust private lessons and tutoring to get him ona level where he can safely join the others in class. That the Coach would be happy to guide him and teach him anything he could want.

Dust mutters it sounds interesting and that he just wants to be closer to Ash. at least feel closer to him again.

The coach smiles and petted his shoulder as he stood behind him, it raised every instinct in Dust to run but he stayed put. The coach muttered about how that was a very grown up and honourable thing to do. Asking him again how old he was.

Dust answered truthfully that he is ten and the coach hummed "You act much older." he smirks.

Dust mentions that he should go to class but the coach just pats his shoulder. saying that he will have a word with his teachers and see if Dust can skip a few days of class to get some training and practise in. get those private classes started right away.

Dust eaisly agreed and nodded when the coach told him to stay put before he rushed out.

Dust immediantly got off his chair and started to search through the office. It didn't take long until he found a locked drawer. another weak spirit. one of a young human girl appeared before him. and held up numbers wiht her fingers. 4. 5. 3. 9.

Dust entered the numbers and the lock springs open. He looks inside and finds a file and a camera. He takes out his own old phone, a gift from Ash for emergencies. and takes a picture of what he found.

then he looks through the file and... oh... oh god.

Dust shakes as he feels vomit crawl up his throat. No. focus. he aims his camera and snaps a picture. Of every picture in there. of every child in tears and bond as the coach... touches... them...

He is shaking by the end before he reaches for the camera. searching and snapping pictures.

Find him. find him. find him. he has to-

found him.

Dust manages to take a picture before refering to his very first picture. he places everything back in the same place nad relocks the lock. and then he waits.

The coach returns with his homeroom teacher who gently reminds him that he can't just skip classes to learn gymnastic. but that he could look into getting him into it as a past school activity.

Dust nods nad mutters that he understands. trying to remain calm and hoping everything about him just screams disappointed over sick to the stomach.

He walks out of the office phycially fine.

But this isn't the end. He has one more thing to do.

Ash yawns as he looks up at the sky "Rain is still coming."

Dust hums "need rain. It was raining when you left your body. Need stuff to be alike."

Ash hums as he floats near the book wiht a frown "Hey Dust."

Dust nods "yeah?"

Ash speaks "I am not fluent in this language... what does this whole paragraph about pain passing?"

Dust feels his hand shake but forces it still "oh... it is part of the life force ritual... the giver... gives the life force... but to make it work to strengthen the one who gets it... well. the trauma of the one receiving it needs to go... so when the life force gets given the one who gives also takes the pain of the other... so waht they felt when they died. i think." Dust isn't looking forwards to that part. but maybe it is for the better.

After all.

It would ahve been better if Dust had died instead of Ash.

He is just righting a wrong.

He doesn't take this information to the teachers. or his parents. or the principle.

Dust walks 10 miles towards the police station. He goes right to the man at the reception and laid down his phone "Got the proof you needed that my brother was murdered."

It would be an udnerstatement to say that brought chaos.

The policeman behind the counter had at first looked amused but then he grabbed his phone adn started to scroll through the pictures. Each one making the other look more horrified.

Dust was rushed into a room with a very nice lady who asked him if he had any allergies or any health issues. Dust shook his skull.

another policeman returned with his phone and thanked him for his brave actions and that he was asking a lot of him that he would need to continue to be brave.

Dust didn't see it as being brave but answered the questions. Why he searched. He was honest. They looked sceptical when he mentioned ghosts.

Dust was ready to start crying. after everything. everything he did. would they not believe him? He was being honest. he doesn't know what else to do and-

And something had appeared on the white board. a pen floating and slowly writing the words "My brother is right. I am here. please... please listen..."

if there was chaos before it was nothing compared to this. the people working there got to work in a frenzy. They send people to the school to investigate. they called in professionals from the bigger cities and priests as well.

They asked him so many questions. if the coach had hurt him. if he had seen anything else. noticed anything.

Dust told them what he knew and noticed before just having to wait.

An high priest of some church came by. someone who could speak wiht spirits. the priest took one look around the room and spoke about how there are many spirits nearby. the priest than looked at Dust and nodded. saying it is nice to meet a new medium. something about him having talent for it and being a strong medium.

Dust didn't feel strong. he said as much. if he had been strong he would have known ages ago that something was seriously wrong with the coach.

The priest tells him he did amazing. more than amazing. but that this burden shouldn't have been his. that others should have notified people specialised in things in this nature as soon as Dust showed promise.

In the end it was anticlimatic. the coach was thrown in prison but he wouldn't admit where he hid Ash's body.

In the end Ash showed Dust where he ahd been burried. right under the playing field. and there were more hallow graves under there.

Dust hadn't been able to stop himself. as soon as the thing holding his brother's remains had opened he had thrown himself in. Only dust. of course there was only dust and left over clothes left.

scratching marks on the coffin. Ash had tried to get out...

Dust finally cries.

Dust nods and steps back "all ready. Ash? can you go to your spot?"

Ash floats over lazily "finally. I am honestly getting impatient. I think you actually got this one Dust." Ash looks excited "It would be awesome to be alive again."

Dust smiles as he slowly inches towards his spot "You could pick up gymnastics again?"

Ash groans "maybe. Coach kinda ruined that experience though... but college is still fun. What do you think? Think i can still be a cook?" he grins "You can also go back to highschool then. actually finish your own schooling."

Dust smiles as he gets near the offering circle "of course you could."

Ash nods as he looks around "so... who did you manage to convince to give over the life force and stuff? Someone already sick? someone very old?" Ash grins at him.

Dust is hoenstly trying to smile for his brother. but he is so scared. his whole arm is shaking.

Ash frowns "Dust?"

Dust takes a deep breath and steps in his circle.

Ash's sockets widen "what are you doing?! Get the fuck out of there!" he goes to fly over but the circle keeps him in his spot. a safety meassurement. It had been to make sure ash didn't accidentally leave his circle.

Dust slowly raises his hands as he tries to keep his panicking soul calm "it is okay... should be quick."

Ash shakes and looks furious "NO! YOu get out of that circle right now or so help me! I don't agree with this! I don't! This is not willing! I don't want this!"

the ritual circle that had all been glowing a soft green turns red and Dust can feel the affect that had been slowly starting to take place stop. Dust stares down adn glares at Ash "what are you doing? I am fixing things!"

Ash shakes his skull "this isn't fixing shit! You would be dead!"

Dust glares "So?! Everyone would be hapyp with it!"

silence around them.

Ash reaches for him "Dusty..."

Dust shakes as he tries to calm his shaking. stop being dramatic. you are twelve now. get over it. Ash can come back now. as seventeen and still pick up his life again.

Don't ruin this.

Dust rubs the tear away as he mutters "Just let me fix this..."

Ash shakes his skull "I don't want this..."

Dust glares "since when not!? You are always telling me how much you miss being alive. How much you wished you could ahve just amde a run for it when you were alive! How you would eat better food! Visit cooler places! Actually go to college and make something of your life!" Dust shakes "I know this is wasted on me... This chance... jsut take it!" he is shaking and crying "Just let me fix this... let me do soemthing that makes you love me again..."

The shaking gets to back and Dust just grumbles to the ground. He is so tired. everything is hard and no one likes him. No one trusts him. His parents left him as soon as Dust had to stay at the police station. Is it so bad? so bad that he just wnats his brother to love him again? if only for a few moments? and then just sleep forever?

the glow disappears as his concentration breaks and Dust tries to pull hismelf together. Rub his tears from his sockets as he tries to mutter the start of the spell again.

He feels Ash close and he flinches "sorry... i can do it and..."

"don't... please don't..." Ash looks heartbroken as he floats near him "damnit i wish i coudl hug you..."

Dust sobs and nods "me too..." his last hug was the mornign before Ash went to that last faithful practise.

Ash speaks softly "you don't ahve to fix anything..."

Dust shakes his skull "but if i hadn't been so dumb i would have known it were other victims. i could have warned you!"

Ash just shakes his skull "Not your fault."

Dust sobs "If... if i had searched faster i could ahve found you sooner."

ash shakes his skull again.

Dust looks downa dn mutters "i messed something up... and now you can't move on... I keep you stuck here because i don't want to be alone..."

Ash snorts and shakes his skull "Dust... you did everything right. You got my murderer brought to justice and you guys found my remains. I had felt it. I had been able to move on right then and there but... well..." he looks at dust "I wasn't going to leave you after that.."

dust looks down and rubs his tear angry "so... you feel like you ahve to stay because i am weak and pathetic..." he needs to do this ritual. give ash the life he deserves and-

Ash laughs "no you dum-dum." he grins "I am here because i don't want to move on without you." Ash floats around him and rests on his skull. Dust can't feel pressure from him but he feels the energy of his brother near "there was no way i was going to leave you because i don't want to leave you. It is just as much for me as it is for you dusty. You are my brother."

Dust feels hismefl relax "i am sorry."

Ash gently hushes him "hush. No need to feel sorry, well aside form the fact you scared the unliving daylight out of me. Promise me you will never do something this stupid ever again. No giving your life or soul or any of that or the energy of either to others. you hear me?!"

Dust laughs and nods "promise..."

Ash hums "good. Now. Mess up this ritual circle thing. and burn the pages of the book detailing it."

Dust frowns "but what if we actually ened it and-"

Ash hushes him "no. None of that. No life force trading."

Dust sighs but does as told. messes up his circle. retrieves his brother's dust. and he uses a lighter to burn the page of the book holding the ritual.

Ash nods "much better."

Dust sighs as he starts to leave the forest "I don't know any other way to bring you back."

Ash shrugs as he floats with him "we aren't in a hurry."

dust frowns "you will miss things you could do in life?"

Ash grins "that is the great part. you can always catch up. I don't ened to be young to go to college. to start to learn how to cook. or any of that." he floats around him and it now looks like they are both wearing the red scarf "so no hurry."

DUst sighs and nods before muttering "we are going to have to find a stronger anchor for you. at least until i am old and strong enough to be the anchor myself."

Ash nods "much better. Time yo go to our favourite spot the library and do some research. AFTER! You ate and showered. You are soaking wet and don't think i didn't notice you skipped breakfast again."

Dust nods and sets into the right direction. Maybe one day he will figure it out. For now he will jsut learn what he can.

*------------------*

[that-was-anticlimactic]

i will never understand how or why the httyd movies did the books such an injustice.

the movies aren't even an adaptation - they stole the name of the series, the name of some of the characters and places, and the general idea that there are dragons. honestly, i would be fine with the movies and maybe even like them if they didn't capitalize off of cressida cowell's incredible books that never get any credit.

the books are an amazing story about the cycle of violence and how vengeance and revenge is dangerous. hiccup says that the past is a ghost story, one we need to learn from to better ourselves. the books are about how everyone deserves freedom, how every creature, every being on the earth deserves to be free. we see that in the slavemark, with the dragons.

and like... hiccup is so different. they did him a severe injustice. he's scrawny and intelligent and learned to talk to dragons simply by observing them! he chooses kindness first above all else; instead of yelling at toothless to train him, he is kind. and in the end, that kindness is why toothless chose to save him. bc even toothless himself says that dragons are inherently selfish creatures who care only for their survival. hiccup is brave - his beliefs differ drastically from both the vikings and the world.

hiccup is a child who chose to do the right thing even at the expense of himself. he agreed to free the slaves on nobert's ship, and in return, they gave him the slavemark which is easy to give but cannot be removed. he was like twelve. and having the slavemark means he cannot be with his tribe or his family, it means he isn't considered a human being anymore. and he keeps it a secret for awhile until it's revealed and when it is everyone turns their backs on hiccup. his family, his tribe, his mentor, people he TRUSTED. everyone except fishlegs, and, once she got over the shock, camicazi. he was thirteen. and even when he lost his memories and was really injured, he persisted. he was told to go to tomorrow and to save the dragons and he did bc in his heart he knew it was right even though he didn't know who he was or how he got there.

and fishlegs,,, oh my god FISHLEGS!!! the did him SO DIRTY!!! fishlegs is hiccup's best friend, one of the main motivators for hiccup. he steals norbert's potato for the sake of fishlegs, he gives fishlegs his dragon and goes to retrieve another, he takes the blame for fishlegs. and fishlegs does the same for him. he takes the slavemark with pride. he refuses to turn. he gives hiccup his lobster claw necklace which is his most prized possession. he is brave for hiccup, he believes hiccup is alive. he fights for hiccup harder than anyone else ever has. he does not turn. his is loyal, has allergies, has asthma, has a squint and a limp, has glasses bc he's blind without them... and he's still a hero despite being a runt, despite everyone even the adults telling him he's hopeless, telling hiccup to leave him behind.

and they cut camicazi! i'm sorry, but astr*d is nothing compared to camicazi. camicazi is a tiny, feral child who can easily best hiccup, fishlegs, and pretty much anyone in a sword fight. she can bring a grown man to tears with her rudery and smack talk. she is recklessly brave and craves adventure and follows hiccup blindly bc she trusts him that much. she isn't in love with hiccup - in fact she doesn't care about romance and love. she gives up everything to help hiccup bc she has a strong sense of justice. she is the motivator, the cheerleader, she finds a positive in everything. she never gives up. literally never gives up. and that's one of the most inspiring things about her: she always has hope.

and toothless! god!!! toothless is *thought to be* a common or garden dragon. he is horrifically tiny, he is literally toothless, and is the biggest brat in the world. he will cause problems on purpose. he has a stutter, he's the most selfless selfish dragon around. he and hiccup can talk to each other. he masks his fear with singing and being annoying. his growth is remarkable. he starts off refusing to obey hiccup, doing the opposite of what he says, making life harder for literally everyone around him, and he's still somewhat like that. but he's also braver, more caring, more willing to make sacrifices for the sake of others. he's clever, which he needs to be to make up for his size and aggression. he protects hiccup with everything he has, therefore, he protects what hiccup cares about just as hard. he was the only dragon that didn't abandon the vikings in the first book bc he cared about hiccup.

and snotlout,,, god,,, i will never forgive the movies for butchering snotlout. hiccup's cousin, the bully character, the one who is horrifically jealous that hiccup's dad was born before his. the one who desperately wants to prove himself, to be worthy, to make people proud. and you hate him, you despise him. he betrays everyone many times bc of the nothing promised to him by alvin and his mom. he loses himself, turns his back on himself, all bc he wants to prove himself. all bc he wants to be better than hiccup. and hiccup still forgives him and gives him chances, sometimes out of pity, but also bc snotlout is his cousin. he can't just turn his back on him no matter how miserable snotlout made his life. and in the end, snotlout sacrifices himself for hiccup. he gives up his life for hiccup in one last attempt to set things right. his death and the events preceding it are one of my absolute favorite moments in the book. gives me chills. makes me cry.

that's the thing with the books - they're so realistic. there is no inherently happy ending where everything works out. the first book begins with "there were dragons when i was a boy", implying that they're gone now. the books show there are consequences to our actions. they enslaved the dragons, they fought against them during the dragon rebellion all bc alvin and his mom said to, and now they're gone bc a simple apology doesn't fix hundreds of years of enslavement. and the only way for the world to move forward was for the dragons to leave and heal on their own. and now they have to learn to live without them. and yeah i've heard the third movie ends like that but. it doesn't have the build up. it doesn't have "there were dragons when i was a boy". it doesn't have eleven books of development to back it up, to make it feel meaningful.

i know that the movies are really special to a lot of people. i know that, on their own, they're genuinely good movies. i can acknowledge that the soundtrack is amazing and the animation is beautiful. i just can't see past the way they butchered the world that i love, the world that i grew up with. i can't see past the way people yelled at me for saying i liked the books better, the way that people gave me weird looks when i showed them a picture of the original toothless, when i tell them that nightfuries aren't even a type of dragon. cressida cowell created hundreds of different dragons, and the movies couldn't even pick from that. i can't forgive the way that barely anyone knows there are books bc the movie barely gives credit to them. i cannot forgive the way they capitalized off the books and then shoved them aside. i know cressida thinks they're good movies and i know a lot of httyd book fans also like them. but i just... i cannot get over how much they changed and how they missed so much and ignored the books. also they got rid of camicazi so hiccup could have a love interest and that is unforgivable to me.

if you disagree, that is a-okay. we're all entitled to our own opinions. i just ask that you, perhaps, try the books out. give them a chance. bc they're amazing works of art and also just like. don't yell at people who don't like the movies? whether it's bc they prefer the books or just aren't into that kind of movie. and just remember that dreamworks didn't come up with the story; cressida cowell did.

[the-kipsabian]

wrestling fic writers!!

i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months

if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found

and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom

and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways

a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜

nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you

and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)

as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!

101 comment starters

ao3 floating comment box

kudos html

dont know how to comment? easy solutions

a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)

an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers

and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place

i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together

happy sharing and commenting 💜💜

[lightbulb-warning]

so has anyone figured out WHY there is the Need To Share our Artworks™ or is it just the vibes and our Soul apparently

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[mymelodyisme]

Is this a repost? Yes. Do I care? Yes. Will this get 🚩? MAYBE.

*dabs violently*