#2023 writing plans

[backtothefanfiction]

UPDATE for 2023

So I've been a little quiet on the posting lately just purely because I couldn't help myself and have bitten off more than I could chew by now having 3 separate writing projects on the go. I am still working on these on the back end and hope to update them more this year.

So with that being said here's my hopes of things from my WIPs/goals I'd like to achieve this year....

My 1st priority is finally getting part one of I Will Always Find You Out.

I have been teasing this project for so long now because I wanted to do it right. My goal is to at least have Oberyn's story published in full by the end of February.

This story is still the biggest project I have ever undertaken because of how the 6 parts intertwine, each one with a different genre and story. I honestly cannot wait to be in a place to share some of these stories with you. Each story will be long too, so plenty for you to get your teeth stuck into and well worth the wait.

Part 3 and 4 of Cherry Bomb.

The adventures of the 20 something year olds in MCU New York continues complete with drunken nights of young adult drama and even some vigilante moonlighting.

Lastly this is a Mando year, so I would like to get into a routine of posting more chapters of Metanoia. I've been stuck trying to get chapter 2 out of my head and onto the page for a little bit now and there are some adjustments I want to make to chapter 1 so I will probably take the first one down to reupload with edits when chapter two is ready but when it is, I am so excited to share this.

The dynamic I have in my mind for Rowan and Mando and how her existence and their relationship makes him question his creed, just satisfies something in me I've yet to get out of the cannon Mando and Grogu relationship.

--------------------------

Anyway, those are my vague plans for the year. Which are you most excited for? Let me know if there are any you want to be added to the tag lists for any of these. I can't wait to share some of these with you all soon!

[zgvlt]

hi 😁

[skitskatdacat63]

2023 Brazilian Grand Prix - Fernando Alonso & Oscar Piastri exchanging helmets

[lightbulb-warning]

Saiuoma not-Week not-Day 4: pregame

discussing Hot Takes from your hyperfixation, loudly, on public transport, is a love language all by itself

[disneynerdpumpkin]

⭐~ Star ~⭐

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

a brief retrospective on Louis and Violet as love interests, Clementine's bisexuality, and the fandom's continued insistence on fighting over this

In December of 2019, I made a series of posts called "An Explanation of Why Louis and Violet are Both Excellent Love Interests" that explored my feelings on the topic after seeing a lot of fighting in the fandom over who's better; who is the "right" choice for Clementine?

The answer is simple: there isn't an objectively correct choice.

I compared Louis and Violet to the romantic options in other games, including Life is Strange, Persona 4, King's Quest 2015, and Catherine, as well as TWDG: A New Frontier. I wanted to show how much better TFS handled the romance versus those games, why we should be grateful for what we got since it could've been a lot worse, and how the fighting over who's "right" was a waste of time.

I suppose it's only fitting that I'd be driven to revisit this topic after seeing fans continue to argue amongst themselves over this years later in the trenches of a weakening fandom.

Just when I think I'm done writing pieces for TWDG, some random redditor writes an essay about how violentine only exists for "woke points" that grabs me by the throat and throws me down. Then another will insist that clouis is abusive since Louis voted against them in ep2 in their own essay and I'm dragged back here, kicking and screaming.

While I think my previous Excellent Love Interests posts about this are on the juvenile side, I do still agree with my main point: Louis and Violet are excellent characters who make for compelling love interests. The fact that we got them both, that we were given the choice, and that they're as well done as they are, is something I don't think we appreciate enough. Hell, I don't think we even appreciate that Clementine's a canonically bisexual protagonist as much as we should.

We're too busy trying to one up each other with, "Well, actually, clouis is superior because of this and this," and "no, you're wrong, violentine is actually better because of this and this," and sometimes a wild non-shipper will appear out of nowhere to slap down an, "actually, you both suck, singletine is better."

It's sad that this is what fandom inevitably defaults to, always. It stops being about the game we love, the thing that brought us here, and it becomes a pissing match.

Doesn't matter what fandom it is; we end up projecting too much of ourselves onto fictional characters, investing too much of our time into ship culture, hyper-fixating until it becomes part of us... and let's be real, sometimes it's in unhealthy ways.

So, when someone else attacks the things we're attached to, it becomes a personal attack... and when we feel threatened, we become defensive and retaliate... and sometimes, we take it too far and target others out of insecurity, to feel validated, even if it means going after someone who is just minding their own business.

Also, I think some people are just assholes who want to piss on everyone.

Because of this, I would like to discuss Louis and Violet as romanceable characters, why they're both important to TFS no matter who you choose, why Clementine being a bisexual protagonist matters, and the fandom's continued insistence on fighting over this.

For many personal reasons, I've always been trepid about being open with my sexuality as a bi woman. I've done a lot of reflection this year on why that is; internalized misogyny, the biphobia that lingers in the queer community, insecurities, regrets, how I tend to be harsher on female characters over male characters, why it took me so long to not feel afraid of engaging with queer media, admitting I was wrong about so many things I've said in the past, how it's all affected my writing, etc.

When TFS released and I made this blog, I had already accepted my bisexuality but was in no way public about it, not online or in my personal life. But playing the first two episode of TFS, being presented with both Louis and Violet as potential romantic partners struck something inside of me.

Yes, I picked Louis; we all know I'm a major clouis shipper at this point, and if you're new here, then now you know, too.

But it's the fact that Violet's also an option, that with just a few different button presses, Clementine could've fallen for her just as she did with Louis; that there's evidence in game that she shows interested in both of them no matter your choices; that no one in-game judges Clementine for who she chooses to be with... that meant something to me in a way that it hadn't before.

TFS wasn't the first game I played with a bi protagonist; in Excellent Love Interests, I compared Louis and Violet to Life is Strange's Chloe and Warren. I have a lot of mixed feelings about the first LiS game overall, but I've been quite open about my dislike of Chloe and indifference to Warren.

Chloe, to me, is everything I dislike in a love interest, predominately in wlw. 2023 was the year of "CJ dives into sapphic literature and it's a 50/50 chance of striking gold or gettin' hella eaten by disappointment, shaka brah." Meaning I've read a lot of wlw novels, and all the ones I hated featured a Chloe clone, sometimes done even worse.

And Warren? I'll be real honest with you- I couldn't even remember what his name was when I started writing this. I had to go back and check. That tells you what I think of him, no?

So, LiS didn't strike me the same way. Sure, I knew Max was a bi protagonist and that's great, but the choices weren't appealing to me. This was when I was a teenager still somewhat in denial of my sexuality, which most definitely contributed to me being uncomfortable when faced with a wlw relationship portrayed in-game, especially when I found myself wishing Kate was an option for Max... but y'know, "shhhhhhh if I don't acknowledge it, it doesn't exist."

When the first episode of TFS released, I was older, I was no longer in a not-so-great relationship, and had better accepted who I am. The first episode does a great job of introducing you to Louis and Violet, and giving you the opportunity to spend more time with the one you're interested in.

I actually really liked them both when ep1 dropped, but I've always had a preference for a character who is kind, deflects with humor, and tends to be picked on by the rest of the cast... so it was inevitable that I'd stick with Louis. Though I won't discredit Violet in ep1, or the rest of the game, just because I didn't choose her in the end.

That's one of the best things about Louis and Violet as options; they're opposites, yet alike in many ways. They have their appeals and charms. They're flawed. It never feels like a "love triangle" situation where they're fighting over Clementine. Louis and Violet are friends who have known each other from before the walkers came. It's refreshing to have two characters who are interested in the same person but don't go for each other's throats over it. When they do argue over her, it's more to do with AJ shooting Marlon and whether it's safe for the group to let them stay.

I can't fault anyone who struggled to pick between them. When someone talks about who they picked and why, it's all about the player's preferences.

It's your choice to make, and no matter what, you're not wrong for it.

This season concludes Clementine's story, regardless of what some comics will say. It's the last fight. It's her happy ending. She and AJ finally found a home, a family.

I've played these games since S1 came out in 2012, over ten years ago. Clementine holds a special place in my heart. Not only did this important character have a great final season [despite Telltale shutting down and TFS nearly being left incomplete, remember] but she's also revealed to be canonically bisexual.

They didn't release the whole season and then as an afterthought be like, "oh yeah btw she's bi, she has oneline of flirty dialogue with this character so see? we did good rep."

Yeah, I'm side eyeing you, ANF.

They didn't try to hide it. They presented it to the player unapologetically and made a conscious decision to exclude anything biphobic from other characters... which meant a lot to me.

Biphobia is real and it's not that I don't want it explored well in media, but there's something appealing and safe about a game with a bisexual main character who isn't questioned about it negatively; "You're bi? Doesn't that mean you cheat on all your partners?"

To give a compliment to Life is Strange: True Colors, I had a similar feeling in that game, too. Alex is openly bi, she can date either Steph or Ryan and no one questions the "legitimacy" of her bisexuality.

Because that's always a thing on top of everything else, y'know? "You're a bad bi unless you're with the 'gayer option.'" "Bisexuality isn't real, you're just confused." "I don't date girls who've been tainted by a man." "Oh, you're into girls? How about a threesome?"

Violet never turns her nose up at Clementine for admitting she had a crush on Gabe. Louis isn't ever gross about Clementine and Violet getting close. It speaks volumes for their characters and how accepting they, and everyone else at Ericson, are of Clementine no matter who she chooses, if anyone.

That acceptance, even if it's just in a game, means more than words can express to queer players who don't feel that acceptance in their daily lives.

Which means it hurts all the more when it comes to the fandom's own display of biphobia; "You're bi but ship clouis? Why ship something hetero when violentine is right there?" "Well, MY Clementine's straight because she picked Louis! Stop forcing the gay onto MY Clementine!"

Clementine's important to all of us. Why do you think so many people are pissed about the comics to the point of spewing disgusting bile toward Tillie Walden? I've said my piece on that plenty times before, so allow me to say it on this; the representation of bisexuality in Clementine is beautifully woven through TFS in ways that are subtle yet impactful, and I thank TFS for giving that to us.

One argument I've come across recently against Clementine's bisexuality, and violentine in general: "blegh they only included violentine/made Clem bi for lgbt points." y'know... as if that's a bad thing.

It bothers me because A. saying "I'm not homophobic *but*-" and then making a homophobic argument against violentine while insisting that Clementine's bisexuality came out of nowhere and was forced is icky, and B. I know I've said similar things about violentine in the past. I know I used to argue that violentine's underdeveloped, yet the devs pushed it to the forefront over clouis to pat themselves on the back for doing representation, etc.

I don't believe that anymore; remember when I brought up people making arguments out of insecurity? Yeah, that and being lowkey bitter that violentine got more dev attention than clouis sometimes even though like... that doesn't matter? It literally doesn't matter. That's what I meant when I said you get so invested that certain things feel like a personal attack when they're not.

Some of the developers of TFS are queer people. They probably wanted a bi protagonist with a wlw option because that representation is important to them and they had the opportunity to express it, not because they were trying to get "points" with anyone. Go listen to the commentaries for TFS; they talk about violentine with nothing but positivity, and they didn't do that to shade Louis or clouis shippers. And if you do think they did it shade fans, then maybe stop and consider why; do you actually believe that or are you annoyed that your fave wasn't the center of attention?

On the flip side, I also want to say that gloating and insisting that violentine is the better/right choice because of these things is also unpleasant and untrue. It sucks when it feels like things are biased against you and it sucks even more when that bias is weaponized by other fans to beat you down.

But honestly? If you need this much validation on your opinions about fictional characters, maybe you should stop to think about why that is and what it says about you, yeah?

Truly, this whole clouis versus violentine thing is irritating at best, vile at worse. Thankfully it doesn't happen as much on tumblr given the state of the fandom, and everyone's at least agreed that no matter their feelings toward each other, clemricca is worse. So, that's something, I guess.

I think the best way I can put this is you don't get to dictate what other people think and feel. Being passionate is great until it becomes an excuse to be an asshole. Not everyone is going to agree with you and you need to put your big kid pants on and accept that.

I'm under no impression that the fighting will ever stop, even when this fandom is dried up with only bones and memories haunting its desert... but at the very least, I can point some of it out and ask that we do better than this.

The focus gets lost in the fighting, and that focus is Louis and Violet themselves. Y'know, the two this retrospective's about.

Remember when I talked about Persona 4 in Excellent Love Interests and how much it sucks when the person you want to romance isn't actually an option--?

Hmm? What's that? Ah, yes, right- @pi-creates insists I add that TFS and Persona 4 actually are the same because Aasim wasn't an option and they're still bitter about that... but this isn't about Aasim, that's a topic for another day. Sorry Pi, but thanks for the screenshots used in this retrospective👍

Anyway, TFS gave us two excellent choices, and it would've been worse off had it only given us one of them, or none at all.

Louis wears charisma as a mask and uses humor as a shield to deflect. Violet, for as quiet and standoffish as she first appears, has a heart she's both eager and reluctant to share.

Louis is warm curtains of sunlight seeping through the murmuring woods of green leaves and little song birds. A heart carved into the rustic wood of an out-of-tune piano. Music echoing in the early morning hallways.

Violet is the glow of a full moon that illuminates still waters so the stars can dance in its reflection. Paint smeared over finger tips to offer a piece of herself meant to be worn. Constellations of stars named in secret.

They're both lonely people, often misunderstood by the others at Ericson, and sometimes by each other. They want to be known. They want to be seen.

But fear is a powerful wall to overcome.

And that's the beauty of choice. You get the impression of knowing them in the beginning, but it rarely breaks surface tension; Louis is nice and funny but undependable, Violet's rude and reserved and a little awkward. Neither are outspoken about any issues around Ericson, content to keep their heads down.

Clementine has to make the effort to know them, and the game establishes this by asking you an unassuming question: do you want to go hunting with Louis or fishing with Violet?

Clementine either makes an effort to understand Violet's feelings toward Brody and why she's so mean to her, and try to help her through it... or she doesn't listen to what Violet's saying, is dismissive, and ends up making things worse.

When Clementine goes hunting with Louis, she has to make the decision to spend time with him or ignore him in favor of hunting, and should she choose him, he opens up to her just a bit.

Then comes the confrontation with Marlon at the end of the episode where Clementine has to make the choice of who to appeal to. The gravity of this choice is often glossed over, I think.

Marlon has a gun pointed at her head, and she pleas for Louis or Violet to step in and save her. Both are hesitant because of course they are! They've known Marlon longer, he has a gun, and he's using manipulation to scare them into submission; he uses his friendship against Louis, and Minerva against Violet.

But when Clementine gets through to them? They stand between her and Marlon in rather in-character ways; Louis eases in with his hands up, attempting to deescalate the situation while Violet pulls out a weapon and demands he back off.

They risked getting shot. They risked death. They knew what was happening was wrong. They didn't want Clementine to die, they didn't fully believe Marlon's bullshit but were too scared to step forward until Clementine asked them, too. In that moment she basically told them, "I trust you. Instinct tells me you are the one who can stop this. My life is in your hands."

This choice changes them, and this moment ripples through the rest of the season. It makes perfect sense that Louis would be upset over Marlon's death and feel unsafe with Clementine and AJ there whereas Violet sees the death as justified and Clementine and AJ shouldn't be kicked out over it. It's an overwhelming situation for everyone.

I've talked about ep2 and the vote until my lungs nearly collapsed and I saw the gates of Hell over the horizon... but that's fine, I can talk a little more about it and maybe this time the flames with cleanse me of my sins or something.

This is where the fighting really began, and I shouldn't have to say it again, but I will anyway: There isn't an objectively correct answer here, there's only personal preference.

Louis and Violet take very clear, opposite stances on this situation. I think they're both a little wrong and a little right; they shouldn't ignore that AJ killed Marlon, but kicking them out isn't the best solution either.

As a clouis shipper, I happen to like the way these events play out with Louis' vote. But not everyone feels that way. For some, Louis' vote is a deal breaker, making Violet the more appealing option given she voted for Clementine and AJ to stay.

Do you want a girl that's been by Clementine's side from the beginning and was vocal about keeping her and AJ here?

Great, Violet's the choice for you. Enjoy the lovely moonlight and constellation mini-game.

Do you want the extra angst of a boy who made a vote he comes to regret and then does everything he can to apologize and make it up to Clementine?

Wonderful, here's Louis. He'll play you a song he wrote and then name it after Clementine, it's very cute.

While on the topic of ep2, I also want to discuss the episode's final choice of saving either Louis or Violet and the consequences.

You know how in other games, say like massive RPG's with "good" and "evil" choices you can make that end up defining your character? You know how sometimes people question why developers even bothered putting those evil routes in since a majority of people will choose to be good? This isn't a new topic of discussion, but it's relevant to my point- they do it because the option to be evil makes the choice to be good more impactful. If you do choose to be evil, you did it knowing you could've been good and yet you decided chaos was the way to go, and now everyone and everything around your character suffers.

I don't think it only applies to binary "good" versus "evil" choices, either.

TWDG is great with its "You can only save one of them" choices, even if they usually fumble with the consequences in later episodes.

When I'm faced with this choice to save either Louis or Violet, I don't save Louis just because I like him more. Sure, initially that's why I saved him on my first run... but then the rest of the season came out and I learned the consequences of the choices I did and didn't make.

Knowing that he'll get his tongue cut out if I don't save him makes me all the more anxious to choose him. And I know violentine shippers are gutted knowing that if they don't save her, she'll feel so betrayed that she turns on Clementine and in the end is blinded in the boat explosion, so they're just as eager to save her.

But all of us have to live with the consequences of what happens to the one we didn't save, too. We made the decision to save the one we love at the cost of hurting the other we didn't love enough. You can't save them both. You're forced to hurt one of them in order to protect the other.

And it doesn't even stop there. TFS isn't done twisting the knife.

Mere moments before you have to make the choice to save one of them, Lilly's standing over Clementine with her finger on the trigger... only to then be tackled by the person you didn't choose to spend time with.

They just saved Clementine's life only to be dragged away by their neck, and the game asks you what that's worth: They got captured saving you, so do you save them in return or do you remain loyal to the one you chose before?

And when you know the consequences of both routes, when you know Louis will have his tongue cut out and Violet will have her eyes burned?

Louis and Violet are good people at their cores who only wanted to be understood and loved, and no matter what, you have to abandon one of them for the other... and they are left physically and mentally traumatized because of it.

But wait, there's more. The one you didn't save will always survive to the end and act as a constant reminder of what you chose... but the one you saved? If you don't trust AJ, then you'll be forced to watch them get torn apart and eaten alive by a herd of walkers. The only way to save them is to trust AJ so that he shoots Tenn.

A child has to die in order for you to save the one you love again, a choice you indirectly made.

The ending shows you the one you didn't save, and it shows you Tenn's grave... and it presents a quiet question: was it worth it?

Would you make those choices again?

That's the power Louis and Violet bring to TFS.

That's why the choice matters.

We justify trusting AJ because we'd rather see Louis and Violet live over Tenn, knowing we're taking away the best friend AJ's ever had and allowing Minerva to get her way. We save Louis knowing that it breaks something inside of Violet and results in her permanently losing most of her eyesight. We save Violet knowing that we'll find Louis bloody and sobbing in the cell after having his tongue cut out of his mouth.

And we argue about it amongst ourselves even though it's all fucked. There isn't a true happy ending here, not for everyone.

Louis and Violet stand on their own as great characters, but you only get the true depth depending on how you play. They're excellent love interests because they care for Clementine. Through their relationship with her, they grow as people and find the acceptance and love they're starved for.

It's not perfect, but it honestly doesn't need to be. There was care woven into these characters. Both routes have a wide appeal. That means something to so many people.

I know we as fans often will say we wanted more, we wanted this and that, we wish this was different. It's not a dating sim where the main objective is to woo them. It's not a massive RPG with hundreds of hours to explore every nook and cranny of their characters. This is a Telltale game. It's a narrative with Clementine and AJ at the forefront, and it's up to you whether you want Louis or Violet to share that spotlight.

It's a story about Clementine finding a home, about molding what kind of survivor AJ comes. It's about Clementine meeting two broken people with glass shards at their feet, about her glass mixing with theirs. It's a game about choice; which glass pieces do you pick up, and which do you step on?

We should take more time to appreciate Louis and Violet. We should share our appreciation for the development team for giving us a bisexual lead with two great love interests, especially since we almost didn't get TFS in its entirety; we can hate Skybound as much as we want for the Clementine comics, but without them, this team wouldn't have been able to finish the game they were clearly passionate about.

We should have more self-awareness and try to understand why we like and dislike things without targeting others.

In conclusion?

I think they're both neat 👍

[happi-dreams]

Sooooo wish kinda infiltrated my brain after I watched a bunch of essay videos and vids of how much potential it had so my brain went ‘o hey why don’t I do that’

So here’s my little interpretation ( mostly based on the Disney development ideas in that one book ), with star also being non verbal and a silly little guy

I dont have much in my cranium right now so I don’t have much to talk about , character wise lol (except that love story will love story I want my starcrossed lovers )

[ch1zzie]

Forgot to post this here butttt

Working on a welcome home animation and mighttttt take me a while

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript:

Phoenix arrives home exhausted after a long day. He can’t wait to slide into bed next to Dawn. It seems impossible to sync up their schedules lately, and he’s missing her a lot.

When he walks into the living room, he’s surprised to find her asleep on the couch.

He crouches down and strokes her hair, feeling almost guilty for waking her.

Phoenix: Hi. Dawn: You’re home. Phoenix: Yep. You must’ve been tired, you’re still in your work clothes. Dawn: So tired.

He stands to help her up, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t even open her eyes. Phoenix: Do you want to come to bed? Dawn: Mhm. I’ll be there in… in just a minute. Phoenix: [unconvinced] Right.

---

The two of them wake up the next morning on the couch, still in their clothes from the day before, and wrapped in each other’s arms. Their alarm is beeping faintly from the bedroom down the hall.

Phoenix squeezes Dawn tight before forcing himself to sit up.

Phoenix: Good morning. Dawn: G’morning. When did you get home? Phoenix: Around eleven. I tried to wake you. Dawn: I know. I was so tired, I couldn’t move. Thanks for staying with me. Phoenix: Of course. It feels like sleeping is the only thing we do together these days. I wasn’t going to miss it.

Dawn: Ough, I know, we need a vacation. Phoenix:  We do. Where should we go? Dawn:  Hmm, somewhere tropical. I want to drink cocktails on the beach and swim with dolphins. Phoenix: Oh, that’s different. Dawn: I know. I know you prefer the snow, but— Phoenix: No, let’s do it.

Dawn: Really? Phoenix: Yes, really. It’ll be fun to go somewhere new. And if you have to walk around in your bikini the whole time, then so be it. Dawn: I see. You have ulterior motives. Phoenix: Definitely.

Phoenix kisses her then, softly but in a way that makes it clear just what those motives are.

Unfortunately, the alarm is still beeping in the other room, reminding them that there’s another busy day ahead of them. They both sigh and look at each other, wishing they could soak in this rare moment together a little longer… maybe they can.

Dawn: I’ll go shut off the alarm. Will you put on a pot of coffee? Phoenix: Yep. When do you have to leave? Dawn: About an hour. How quick do you think we can get ready? Phoenix: Thirty minutes? Dawn: Ooh, ambitious.  

---

Phoenix: So, when should we do it? Dawn: Do what? Phoenix: Take a vacation.

Dawn: You tell me. You have that look. Phoenix: What look? Dawn: That I’m-asking-a-question-so-I-can-give-you-the-answer look. Phoenix: I don’t do that. Dawn: So, you haven’t already come up with a plan?

Phoenix: Okay, maybe I do that. Dawn: Mhm. So, when should we do it? Phoenix: How about August? It’s far enough in advance to plan, and it’s the last chance I’ll have before things get crazy in the fall.

Dawn: And just in time for our anniversary. Phoenix: [feigning surprise] Is it? Dawn: That sounds perfect. I have to get going though, so we’ll have to figure out the rest later.

Phoenix: What time will you be home tonight? Dawn: Six. Seven, at the latest. Will you be here? Phoenix:  I’ll try to be. Dawn: Okay. I love you. Phoenix: I love you too.

[nosebleedclub]

A bit early but—is anyone doing nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) this year (November 2023)?

[iamamythologicalcreature]

Six Sentence Sunday/Creative Proof of Life

Thanks for the tags, @alexalexinii, @shrekgogurt, and @that-disabled-princess!

This WIP post is basically a proof of life statement. I can't believe it's been over a month since I posted Chapter 1 of the Haunting of Simon Snow. I'm so overdue for chapter 2, BUT... instead I finished writing the rough draft. I've been attempting to outline, because when I rough a draft, I really rough it up. Ahem.

So I have been working on it, even if there is zero evidence on AO3 as of yet.

How about some sentences? I haven't sliced up chapters yet, so not sure if this is from chapter two or three, but here's a snippet of Simon on the phone with Penny expressing some smooshy sentiments:

I curl up on the couch a bit more, maneuvering myself so my wings aren’t crushed. “I went flying last night,” I confess then, in quiet tones. Like someone might hear me. “You— Oh, but… You can’t! What if someone sees you?” I can actually hear her biting her lip. She wants to spell my problems away, and she can’t. “But I can,” I say, smiling a bit more. “There’s no one around for acres. No one will even willingly drive here on account of the house being haunted. It’s empty. And I’m flying at night.” I say flying in the present tense and realize I fully intend to fly again tonight.

Penny huffs. Her specialty. “I don’t like it.” “I do,” I say easily, warming up to explaining, hoping she’ll understand. “It’s so freeing, Pen. Like the weight of the world can’t hold me down, anymore. I feel… It’s like… It’s like I’m closer to the stars. Like I’m close to stirring up the milky way.” I let out a sigh, my eyes closing as I drop my head back, indulging in that recent memory. “I don’t hate it as much, when I’m up there. You know?” There’s a few seconds of silence, and I open my eyes again. “Pen?” “Hate what?” she asks quietly.

(just in case you were worried I wouldn't be including angst...)

Bit more info on my progress (maybe some whinging) and tags and hellos below the cut!

Fun facts about my ineffecient writing process:

I spent more than one or two hours clearing asterisks from my rough draft this morning. (Because discord has trained me to do *this* when I write instead of this.) Because I'm trying to listen to my draft via screen readers, but it keeps sounding like "asterisk-impossible-star-fuck me" (that's my favorite one honestly, it's supposed to read "Impossible. Fuck me.") which is really annoying (more often than amusing). ANYWAY… what this has revealed to me is that I use "Fuck" a lot, as well as "So good." Ahem. Take from that what you will.

BTW, I'm sure there's an easier way to do that than manually. Please don't tell me for at least a few days, or I might lose it. I am but a mortal being, with a tattered heart and patience worn thin. (Or something.)

OKAY. It's been awhile since I did one of these posts. Time really flies. Gonna give this list my best shot, but as always, open to any who want to participate! (Also adding some new names in for the new year so this is sort of my "Gee I hope this is cool with you" super long tag list. If you'd rather not be tagged, just drop me a missive to that effect!)

@leithillustration @prettygoododds @rimeswithpurple @artsyunderstudy @blackberrysummerblog @hushed-chorus @nightimedreamersworld @best--dress @whatevertheweather @ileadacharmedlife @scribble-tier @imagineacoolusername @brilla-brilla-estrellita @alleycat0306 @angelsfalling16 @fatalfangirl @erzbethluna @tender-ministrations @anxious-m3ss @ebbpettier @bubble-gumhead @facewithoutheart @bazzybelle @theimpossibledemon @aristocratic-otter @mooncello @cutestkilla @annabellelux @ic3-que3n @j-nipper-95 @letraspal @messofthejess @onepintobean @palimpsessed @raenestee @supercutedinosaurs @theearlgreymage @thewholelemon @wellbelesbian @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @youarenevertooold @bookish-bogwitch @martsonmars @orange-peony @mostlymaudlin @stardustasincocaine @confused-bi-queer

Lastly, quick note/question. Tumblr seems to be remiss in informing me when I've been tagged in other posts. Is this a common issue?

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 2: Thermometer, Delirium (“I’ll call out your name but you won’t call back”)

This one has similar vibes to day 1, but it was originally for a different later-on day so that’s why (if you know the prompts, you can probably guess which!). Also there’s no actual thermometers here, but I definitely used the prompt as inspiration lol. Sorry Sky.

Warnings for: being out in the heat too long, an implied head injury, and a character thinks briefly about how it wouldn’t be so bad to die.

Read it on ao3

————————————————————

Sky couldn’t remember why he was here.

Blinding sun shone in his eyes, even when he shaded his face with his hands, that made the pounding in his skull twice as worse. The glare made it impossible to see across the desert he was walking through, and his eyes hurt from squinting. Sand blew past his face, tripped his steps, and the heat rose off of it in waves, making it hard to focus on why...

...why what, exactly?

Sky shook his head, unable to remember, and kept walking. There wasn’t anything else to do, after all.

He’d been walking for ages, and the temperature had risen sharply as he’d gone, making sweat pour down his face and drip down his back. His sailcloth had long been put away in his pouch, and as tempted as he was to remove more layers, he didn’t want to be vulnerable to attack, or exposed to the blinding sun any more than necessary.

Not that it mattered much. There was no shelter anywhere.

Only sand. Endless sand.

Sky squeezed his eyes shut a moment, the uncomfortable sting from their dryness worth the temporary respite from the sun. He only had a few sips of water left, and as much as he wanted to gulp them down, he needed to conserve them so he could make it back to... to somewhere.

...to someone?

Sky swallowed, the motion barely relieving the dryness of his throat.

He was alone, but it hadn’t always been like that, had it? He did faintly recall being in a desert like this before, but... but maybe he’d always been wandering out here by himself.

Alone in the desert, with no water and a headache that only got worse.

He kept walking.

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky above him, no respite from the sun that beat down on his head. A scorching wind sometimes brushed past his bangs, kicking up the sand, but bringing no relief whatsoever.

Sky’s legs dragged more and more the longer he walked, his clothes soaked in sweat. He gulped down the last few drops of water he had, but it didn’t do a thing to quench his thirst. His head pounded, his headache worsened from the bright sun and pulsing behind his eyes, but Sky couldn’t even close them. Whenever he did, he always tripped soon after, and pulling himself back up got harder each time it happened.

A sound suddenly caught his attention, one that wasn’t just harsh wind or shifting sands. Sky dazedly looked up (when had he lowered his head?), and his eyes widened at the sight.

There were trees a short distance away, trees and tents set up around a large rock that reached up towards the sky. They all provided a glorious amount of shade from the sun, and in the middle of it all was a large pool of water.

Sky stared, then felt his aching face stretch in a smile.

Shelter. Shade.

Water.

He let out a raspy laugh, and began to run towards it, stumbling in the sand as he went. Finally, civilization, and a respite from the awful heat. Somewhere to rest, to figure out why he was wandering through the desert, why he felt like he shouldn’t be alone.

Sky was so fueled by the sight of something other then sand that in his excitement, he suddenly tripped on the large dune he’d been running down. His legs were too exhausted to recover, and he fell forward, arms pinwheeling.

Sky’s yelp was quickly cut off as his face hit the sand, and he tumbled down the rest of the way, limbs flying and sand getting on every bit of him that didn’t already have it.

He finally rolled to a stop with a groan, his exhausted body even more tired from the fall. He felt bruised and dizzy, and the same spot in the back of his head that kept pounding was blazing with pain now, but the reminder of water got him to fight through it, and Sky took in a steadying breath. Once his head finally stopped spinning, he carefully raised it, trying to focus on the oasis again and reorient himself.

Nothing but empty sand met him.

Sky stared, eyes widening as he lurched to his feet and looked around with increasing desperation. He could no longer hear the splashing of the water, see the leaves of tall palms rustling with a cooling breeze, just... sand.

Nothing but sand.

There had never been any oasis. It was just his mind, desperate for something to cool itself off with, tricking him.

Sky closed his eyes, a wave of despair crashing over him. It was so intense he nearly fell over, and he felt a frustrated cry build in his throat. He’d been so close, to shelter, to water, to people... but no, there’d been nothing to be close to at all. Just his dehydrated mind playing tricks.

He shook his head, and swallowed back the sting in his eyes as he reopened them. A dull feeling settled over him as he stared at the empty sands, and he sighed, the sound raspy and weak.

Nothing to do but keep going.

He began to walk again, and he couldn’t bring himself to scan the horizon for help any more. Maybe there just wasn’t any shelter anywhere.

Maybe the desert had no end.

Waves of heat rose off the sand, making the horizon impossible to make out no matter how much Sky squinted at it. The sun was right around its peak, scorching its rays onto his head, and Sky took his sailcloth back out with shaking hands and rested it over his head to protect his face. It barely helped, and he knew his skin was already peeling from burns, but he kept it there anyway. The faint sweet smell coming off of it was comforting at least.

He wondered why it smelled so nice. He couldn’t remember.

The sun seemed to stall above his head, getting no lower. Sky’s stomach began to roll unpleasantly, his dry throat crying out for water. He wasn’t sure why he kept walking honestly, when it would have been so much easier to just stop, but something kept his feet moving, even despite the pounding in his head.

A laugh floated by on the wind, and Sky blinked, a flash of pale hair in the corner of his eyes. He thought he saw a man approach him, covered in armor, but when he looked again he was gone.

The light grew more orange, his shadow squirming like snakes over the dunes. Harsh wind stung at his face like bitter words, and a wolf laughed at him when he stumbled, barks ringing in his ears. Something with fiery hair challenged him to a fight, but when Sky drew his sword to face it, there was nothing but a distant laugh in his ears.

He kept his sword out after that, using it as more of a walking stick than anything. Apologies spilled from his lips, for scuffing her steel and getting sand stuck in her hilt, but he didn’t know why. She was just a sword, wasn’t it?

Something circled lazily above his head, and Sky squinted at it, pausing as he tried to figure out why the shape seemed so familiar. Something outstretched to either side, a tail in the back...

Red flashed in his vision, and an intense hope caught in his chest as a memory surfaced.

“Crimson?” Sky breathed, watching the bird swoop around, wings stretched towards him as if it was coming in for an embrace.

Then it abruptly changed course and began to fly away.

“No— nnno no Crimson no, come back—!”

Sky bolted after his loftwing, but barely took a step before tripping in the sand, sending him sprawling. He desperately looked up, but his bird was long gone, lost in the blue sky.

It had left him. Everyone had left him. The scarf, the leaves, the golden hair, even his sword— Sky sobbed and tried to get up, but he’d finally reached his limit, the loss of his bird one loss too many.

He collapsed, muscles worn, heart aching, and his vision went dark.

(...)

A faint whisper tickled his ears.

Sky breathed out a soft moan, too hazy to try and listen. It was a gentle voice, one that made his chest hurt for some reason, but everything was disjointed, dark color smearing around the inside of his eyelids.

The voice repeated itself, but he couldn’t focus through the darkened void, too weak, too faint. But the voice continued, kept trying, and eventually Sky could hear it enough to just barely make out what it was saying.

“...Link...”

It was if his name was spoken through a heavy fog.

Sky still didn’t move, feeling utterly drained. It was like a weight had been dropped on top of him. Even when he thought he heard something move nearby, he remained still, listening silently as it approached. The sounds were strangely distant, but he listened to them anyway, unable to do much else.

The footsteps stopped, and Sky could feel that he wasn’t alone.

Maybe it’s a monster finally come to finish me off, he thought distantly. The idea was almost a welcome one, and he exhaled, sure that he’d feel a blade cutting into his heart any moment now. Then maybe he could truly rest, and join everyone who had left him.

“Sleepyhead, it’s time to get up.”

The familiar nickname abruptly cleared some of the fog that had descended in Sky’s head, and he forced his eyes open through the grit encrusting them.

Warm yellow met him, not like the painful glare of the desert sun, but a kinder, cheerful shade. Like gentle spring sunshine, with a silver glint from the moonlight. Sky blinked, and felt a huge surge of emotion as he looked up into crystal-clear eyes, their middle a blue even brighter than the sky.

“...Zelda?” he croaked, and she nodded from where she stood next to him.

“Sleepyhead, you need to get up,” she said in a teasing voice, and Link closed his eyes again, already exhausted from opening them the first time.

“...I can’t... Zelda, I...” he whispered, and he felt a light touch on his cheek, fingers gently caressing him.

“Open your eyes, Link.”

He obeyed, and Zelda smiled at him again, her form strangely hazy in his vision.

“You’re close to help, Link. It’s not much further, you can make it. I know you can.”

“I can’t,” he repeated in a whisper, wishing he could do as she said, but unable to gather the strength.

The sun had wrung out any energy he had, sapped by sweat and heat and the endless pound in his head. Sky belatedly realized it was much colder now, but the temperature switch was of no relief to his worn and wearied body. The air was now freezing instead of burning, and he barely had the energy to shiver, the cold leeching any remaining strength he had.

He was deathly thirsty, his stomach still hurt, and he still couldn’t remember why he was in the desert in the first place, or what he’d been doing beforehand.

Link closed his eyes again, a sudden wave of despair crashing over him through the confusion and haze.

“I can’t,” Link trembled out again, and tears would have sprung to his eyes if he’d had any water left in his body. “Z-Zel, I can’t.”

“You can,” Zelda replied in a voice equally firm and soft. Link couldn’t stand to look at her.

He kept his eyes closed, and then something moved at his side where his pouch was. He stayed still as it moved, then felt something soft fall over his shoulders, a familiar perfume drifting into his nose.

“You can, Link,” Zelda repeated, her voice encouraging. “I’ll be with you for every step. Don’t fall here. It’s time to get up.”

Link exhaled, and looked into Zelda’s eyes, watching the way the moonlight made them shine.

“Is that a command from my goddess?” he whispered in a barely-there voice.

“No. It’s a request from your friend,” Zelda said as she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his hair. “Now come on, Link. It’s time to keep going.”

Something alit inside Link’s chest at her words, something weak, and faint. But it was warm, and Link clung to it like a drowning man, curling around and snatching at it, and suddenly felt as if he had some of his strength back. Not a lot, barely any, and he doubted he could even raise his sword... but he could move.

He wasn’t going to die alone in the desert. He wouldn’t fall here.

He would keep going.

Link clutched at his sailcloth with trembling fingers, and turned himself off his side and onto his hands. Then he moved to his knees, and ever so slowly, body shaking with the effort, got to his feet.

He stood for a moment, trembling in the moonlight, afraid to move for fear that he’d fall over. But Zelda’s words rang in his head, and he breathed in, tightening his grip on the sailcloth. Then he took a single swaying step, and then another, and another, legs trembling like those of a newborn loftwing. Walking through the sand seemed more impossible than earlier, and once he began shivering, it was even worse.

But every time he faltered, every time he nearly collapsed, wanted desperately to stop and just rest... he saw a shine of yellow hair ahead of him, a glint of blue eyes... and he kept going.

All through the night he plodded along, boots slipping in the sand, clutching Zelda’s words to him as tightly as he clutched the sailcloth.

Something at his back gave out an occasional weak pulse, and Link matched his steps to the faint rhythm. The horizon began to lighten, orange streaks shooting through the sky, and somewhere in that time, Link stopped shivering, the temperature rising again as he trekked endlessly across the sands.

Step, after step, after step.

He kept walking.

The sun broke over the horizon, making his eyes sting from its brightness. His footsteps weaved uncertainly as it cast orangey rays across the sands, voices warbling to him on the wind, cheering him, jeering at him, words both indecipherable and clear as ice.

A red haired man yelled at him after spending all day with Zelda, and a tall woman fiercely berated him, making his ears sting. The armor looked at his sword with dislike and anger while a bunny twitched his whiskers, the very grass and trees laughed, dusk fell and cried out as he struggled against the darkness, his parents looked at him with pride and grief and Mia wove around his legs as she begged to be picked up—

Link belatedly realized he’d fallen to the ground, still-cool sand pressing against his cheek.

Zelda’s voice had gone quiet, no more yellow hair to follow, no voice urging him up. Link breathed out, his strength gone. The faint flicker he’d regained was utterly spent. His body had been pushed to its limit, and he’d gone as far as he could. He’d given it his all.

He couldn’t keep going.

The darkness started to creep up on him again, but it felt colder this time, deep, reaching out to drag him down with its claws. Link shivered and wanted to brush it off, but he couldn’t even raise his arm.

I’m sorry Zel.

The claws hooked into him, began to cover his vision, sending darkness over his sight, but as they did, Link thought he saw a flicker of color out in the sand.

A yell rang faintly in his ears as he closed his eyes, footsteps pounding the sand. More yells joined the first as Link relaxed, and the sand brushed his other cheek, though it felt remarkably smooth and gentle as darkness swept over him like a wave.

For some reason, he felt perfectly safe.

[thewritingowl]

When Dick took over Tim's infiltration of the Ghost Investigation Ward, he thought he'd be coming out of it with a few files and maybe some information.

Instead, he left with a kid.

Now Dick finds himself trying to learn how to be a father all while helping his new son, Danny, overcome the trauma that he had been dealt by the GIW. It's a roller coaster of a ride, but thankfully Dick isn't alone. Danny now has a bunch of excitable aunts, uncles, grandparents, and even a great-grandfather all ready to dote on him. Dick is determined to give Danny the best life he can manage as he works to keep Danny safe from the myriad of forces that want to harm him.

[queerdiazs]

Eddie’s alive, just stuck in the Upside Down, but he doesn’t go to Dustin or Mike or Lucas—oh, no. And not even Steve, either, no matter how much he respects the dude.

Nah, Eddie traverses the woods of the Upside Down, knows where that old beat up truck sits that he and Wayne found a few months ago during season that they fixed up with the blessing of the landowner, and waits for his uncle there. 

Eddie’s trailer is fucked and he knows Wayne doesn’t have the money to afford a hotel room, so he sits in that truck in the woods, shivering and bleeding and singing songs to keep himself awake, and waits until Wayne turns it on.

And when he does in a few hours, Springsteen’s faintly heard and Eddie laughs because he loves his uncle, adores the man and he wishes he told him more of that when he had the chance, but he’s determined he’ll have more time later, he just has to get out of this hellish place first, and so he starts talking. 

It startles Wayne at first, swears and yells flying, and then there’s tears shared between them, so close and yet so far apart. Eddie explains what he can, pressing his hands into his wounds in hopes of slowing the bleeding, and he tells Wayne to hurry with an aborted, “I love you.” 

Wayne hurries. He fishes his rifle out from beneath his seat and thinks—about the kids who joined Eddie's club, about the band kid and the kid with the questions and the other kid, too, with soft brown eyes and a sad smile when he ducked his head in acknowledgment—and takes off. 

He finds Harrington’s house, knocks on the door until the kid comes running. He slings it wide, revealing himself and the band kid and Henderson, Wayne thinks, who's momma is sweet and kind at the diner, and says, “My nephew is alive. Let’s go get him.”

And he didn’t know what he expected from this kid—if he thought he’d get directions or what—but he’s surprised when Harrington nods, slips on some shoes, and follows him outside to his truck where Eddie's voice is still coming through the radio. 

Harrington says hi, a broken sort of thing, and promises they’re on the way, for him to just stay where he’s at, and Eddie giggles, says, “My knight in shining armor,” because he's always been romantic, and Harrington goes red and says, “Goddamn right I am,” and Wayne listens to Eddie's laughter the whole way to the portal that takes them to the other world. 

It's dark and ugly and dead, but they find Eddie fast. He’s bleeding out, blubbering as soon as he sees Wayne and Steve—“Call me Steve, please.”—and it takes both of them to carry Eddie up and out of that shithole dimension. 

They take him to the hospital, Eddie resting in Steve's arms the whole way, and as soon as Eddie's taken back and stabilized, Wayne and Steve collapse in the hallway. They’re quiet when they do it, but Steve's tears are hot and Wayne’s grip is tight and they hold one another close. They ask a nurse for an extra bed in Eddie's room; she’s reluctant but she does it anyway when Steve asks nicely. 

Wayne and Steve camp Eddie's room as he rests, talking quietly and getting to know one another better and sharing stories of Eddie. soon, Wayne passes out in the recliner—helps his back if he sleeps upright since those discs have been deteriorating—and wakes up a few hours later to see the extra bed unused.

Steve’s crawled up into Eddie's bed with him, nestled close and tight, and they’re both awake, faces turned toward one another as they giggle and whisper and chuckle, but Wayne can’t hear them and he thinks that’s okay. 

He rests some more, content to listen to the soft sounds of his boys—his boys, ‘cause Harrington is his now; a decision he made when he saw the darkness in the kid's eyes that reminds him so much of his own shit—lull him to sleep. 

That is, until one Dustin Henderson hears the news that Eddie's alive and safe and recovering. He causes a ruckus and a half, and the hospital staff is in shambles, and Wayne laughs because he might just have to make Dustin one of his own, too.

[wowbright]

Fic: Wedding Gifts

Fandom/pairing: Glee, Kurt/Blaine

Event: December Klaine Fanworks Challenge 2023

Words: ~2,400 words                                        

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Blaine has some unconventional wedding ideas.

Notes: This is part of my Mormon!Klaine universe. It takes place after Out of Eden, which I am still in the process of posting to AO3. It’s among the possibilities for their future. The stuff Kurt gets scandalized about is related to LDS wedding/temple ceremonies, which members are not supposed to replicate outside the temple.

* * *

“Oh my gosh, Blaine. We are not doing a presentation at the veil at our public, outdoor wedding.” Kurt spoke firmly, but how was he going to possibly win this argument? Of course Blaine would bring it up when they were naked in bed, Blaine’s legs sprawled over Kurt's thighs, his head on Kurt's chest, and Kurt an absolute pool of jelly, his brain and body spent from the things Blaine had done to him.

Let's try a new position, Blaine had said. But it hadn't just been a position. It had been a revelation: Blaine hovering over him, praising his cock and demanding things of it that Kurt wasn't sure it could deliver, not letting him come and not letting him come when Blaine was riding him past all sanity, their hands clasped together at the side of Kurt’ head and Blaine using them for leverage, pushing against them as he lifted himself up and then plunged himself back down onto Kurt's erection, over and over again, and stammering and moaning and bossy in a way that he never was outside of bed and that he had only recently begun to let himself be in it, and Kurt really did like it when Blaine got that way, because it meant that all his reservations were gone, he was afraid of nothing, and so when Blaine told him No, not yet Kurt, you can’t come yet, I still need you inside me, I need you to fuck me so slowly, I need your cock filling me up and oh stretching me and you’re oh yes you’re so big give it to me oh yes like that Kurt yeah Kurt fuck me like that give it to me give it to me I love your cock I love you oh yes— Well. It was Kurt’s pleasure to oblige.

“It's not public,” Blaine said innocently, running his thumb back and forth over Kurt’s nipple. “We sent out invitations.”

“You know what I mean. There will be non-members there. And what about the members. Are you trying to give them heart attacks?”

Blaine propped himself up on one elbow and looked down on Kurt with a seductive smile. “You mean, like I gave your member a heart attack?”

“Don't you dare bring up that mind-blowing sex when we’re talking about our relatives.”

Blaine smirked. “It was pretty mind blowing, though, wasn't it? Kurt, the things you do with your—"

“Ahem.” Kurt cleared his throat. How was he getting hard again already? When he'd orgasmed, it had felt like Blaine was pulling every last ounce of delight from the center of his body and out onto the surface, out into Blaine. But apparently his body had some secret stores Kurt didn’t know about—or, more likely, Blaine had spilled his own pleasure back into Kurt, and was doing so again now, recharging him body and soul. “You will not use orgasms as a bargaining chip in our wedding planning.”

“It wasn't just the orgasms that made it mind-blowing, though, was it?” Blaine said, and Kurt almost answered but then decided not to, because he refused to let Blaine distract him into agreeing with his cockamamie wedding ideas. He made a face at Blaine that he hoped approximated a glare.

“Oh, fine. Be that way,” Blaine said, flopping onto his back. “But who cares what they think? This wedding is for us, not them.”

“Um, technically it is for them, Blaine. Given that we're already legally married.”

“Yeah, but that was in a courthouse in front of two people we didn't even know, and this is our public declaration of love. And I want us to declare it in our own way. We said this wedding was about celebrating the roles our guests have played in our lives and inviting them to celebrate our relationship. And if people show up and they can't handle how we choose to express our love, they shouldn't come to our wedding.”

“Ah. So it's a big fuck you to your family, huh?”

“No!” Blaine pouted. “My mom would love it. She figures we're going to the celestial kingdom already. She's so bummed we can’t get sealed in the temple. But if we had a veil … and it wouldn't be the whole presentation at the veil, anyway. Just some white curtains. Lots of people have white curtains at their wedding. You have to have a canopy in case it rains, and if you have a canopy, you need to have something on the edges to keep the rain out. I'm just saying we could step through them at the start of the ceremony, instead of going down the aisle.”

In spite of himself, Kurt was becoming intrigued. He rolled on his side toward Blaine. “Together?”

“Well—” Blaine mirrored Kurt’s action. They were almost nose-to-nose. “I was thinking maybe you first, and then you could pull me through?”

Kurt almost burst out with That is not just stepping through curtains, Blaine! That's what grooms do with their brides at the veil! But Blaine looked so hopeful, and his eyes were so wide and eyelashes so long that speaking crossly would be like shooting Bambi. Kurt reached for Blaine's hand. “Are you the bride in this scenario?”

“Sort of?” Blaine said. “I don't know. It's just always the way I pictured it.”

“Always?”

“Well, since I first dreamt about it. In Germany. When I was starting to realize I was in love with you. I had a dream about you pulling me through the veil. And I couldn't explain it, but it felt so right. I guess that dream has never left me.”

“You never told me about that.”

Blaine shrugged. “It never came up. But now we have a wedding where we can do everything the way we want, the way that speaks to us? This speaks to me, Kurt.”

With the way Blaine was looking at him, that tender look that always made Kurt feel like he’d been blessed more than any other human being in the history of human beings, Kurt wanted to say yes. But if he did that, he would be ignoring his own gut. And if Blaine had taught him anything, it was that they didn't have to do that with each other. “I don't know, Blaine. I'll have to think about it. I know my relationship with the temple has changed, but it still feels … I don't know, maybe too bold? Besides, one of us pulling the other through—isn't that a little heteronormative? Just because you like to bottom doesn't make you a bride.”

“Oh, but you see, it's the opposite of heteronormative! It's reclamation. It's a challenge to narrow gender roles and the church’s myopic vision of family.” Blaine’s joyous smile turned sly. “Besides, can you really call what I just did with you bottoming?”

Kurt snickered. “You mean, because you were on top in more ways than one?

Blaine crawled over Kurt. They slotted their hands together on either side of Kurt's head. “I can take charge again for you, if you want. I know how tired you get, how you sometimes need a break from holding the reins.”

“Are you talking about sex or about wedding planning?”

Blaine smirked. “Maybe both.”

“Because next thing you're going to tell me is that you want mirrors at the wedding.”

“Well—”

“No!” Kurt protested, but it came out with a peal of giggles. “We are not doing mirrors. If you need us to stand between two mirrors so that we can see our coupledom infinitely reflected back to us, we can order that for the honeymoon suite.”

“Hmmm.” Blaine lowered himself onto Kurt, pressing the beginnings of his renewed erection onto Kurt’s belly. “That's not a bad idea.”

“You like that?” Kurt said, returning the gift by pressing his own reburgeoning arousal into Blaine’s flesh. “Besides, wouldn’t that be better? To see us naked together, joined in the flesh for eternity, me inside you and, if you want …” In spite of himself and the fact that they were already baring themselves to each other, Kurt felt himself blush. “… you inside me?”

Blaine's eyes went wide, whether from surprise or arousal, Kurt wasn't sure. “You'd want that?”

Kurt shrugged. He could be coy, too. “Only one way to find out.”

“Have you tried …?” Blaine wiggled his fingers against Kurt’s meaningfully.

Kurt wasn't sure whether to nod or shake his head. “Sort of? I mean, I did it in high school a couple times but I would get self-conscious and stop. And I’ve tried it a little when we've been apart, but I've never come from it—not because I don't think I could, but because…” Kurt felt himself flush all the way up to his hairline. “I wanted to save that for you? Which, talking about heteronormative—”

“You want me to do that, now?” Blaine said quietly, with the calm sincerity of reading a scripture verse. “You want me to finger you?”

Kurt nodded.

The initial stretch wasn't as intense as Kurt expected. Maybe that was because of the orgasm he'd had less than an hour ago, or maybe it was thanks to his occasional practice. Still, he let out a guttural moan that would have embarrassed him if it wasn't this and it wasn't with Blaine.

“You okay?” whispered Blaine.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kurt panted. “Keep—” A spark ignited deep in Kurt’s groin. “Oh!” He had liked this in high school. He’d enjoyed it in each of his practice sessions. But here, with Blaine on top of him, kissing him and moving his finger carefully inside him, it was beyond enjoyment. Because it was them—their bodies moving together, serving each other. Because with Blaine, Kurt could be himself, free and unashamed.

Blaine slid his finger in and out, whispering to him softly, asking him what he liked and what he wanted and what felt good, “because I want you to feel good, Kurt, I want you to feel so good.”

And Kurt tried to be snarky, but it came out as, “Not so—oh—not so—yes. Blaine.—not so bossy—oh God oh God oh God—not so bo—ahhhh—ssy now, a-are you?”

“You want more of that?” Blaine asked tenderly. “Another finger?”

And Kurt didn't even have to think about it, the words just came out of his mouth, pleading, “Yes. Oh, yes.”

Now Kurt was starting to feel the stretch, and he liked this, too, liked the way his body could open for and accommodate Blaine, liked that he'd been designed to experience pleasure in multiple ways, and now was not the time to analyze if he liked this better or the same or less or if it was just different, a different way to love Blaine and draw closer to him, a different way to experience his body and the goodness of his physicality and his desire.

“Do you want me to suck your cock?” Blaine asked like he was whispering a special request to Kurt at sacrament meeting.

Kurt shook his head. “Kiss me.”

They kissed, and kissed, and kissed—the way they used to on their little loveseat in Germany, back when they had rules about shirts on and buttoned and no making out in the bedroom and every touch was a sacred shock to the system, and they would kiss each other into fervors of passion that only more kissing could quench—only now Kurt was splayed on the bed, Blaine inside him and their dicks twitching against each other’s flesh, and it felt good, truly good, in Kurt's body and in his soul, and Blaine experimented with different ways of stroking and different speeds and “would you like another finger, Kurt? Do you think you can take three?” and everything went blurry but also exquisitely in focus: the thrum of Blaine’s body in time with his; the need inside Kurt, growing like life itself; the soft grunts and groans they each made, so that Kurt sometimes didn't know if he was moaning his own pleasure or in response to Blaine’s—not that it mattered, it all felt the same—and Kurt found himself thrusting back on Blaine's fingers as much as Blaine was thrusting into him, found himself delirious with the pleasure of it, found himself calling out yes yes yes yes yes yes oh Blaine yes and when Blaine asked, “Do you want to come?” Kurt couldn’t answer because he wanted to but also he didn’t want this feeling to stop and so he spread his thighs out as far as he could and took Blaine’s fingers just a fraction deeper and that—oh, that, oh, Blaine, you’re inside me Blaine, fuck me, Blaine, you’re—

“Oh, Kurt, you’re so hot, you’re so beautiful, I want you so much Kurt, oh Kurt, oh Kurt, I can’t help it, I think I’m gonna come—"

And Kurt held Blaine’s face as he came, watched his mouth drop open and his eyes go wide but never losing their focus on Kurt, making Kurt feel like he was some sort of miracle, and maybe he was, because they were, they were a miracle when they moved together like this and when they loved each other, and Blaine’s semen fell warm upon Kurt’s belly and yes, yes Blaine, I want to come, I want to come for you.

It was like an earthquake and a blessing and a thousand metaphors that Kurt would never have the language for, because Kurt never had the language to describe the level of ecstasy that Blaine kept bringing him to, for the depth of love that existed between them.

“That was okay?” Blaine said a few minutes later, when they’d caught their breath and the faculty for forming complete sentences had returned to them.

Kurt burst into laughter. “Yeah, Blaine, it was okay.”

“You want to try it again sometime?”

“If you're amenable.”

Blaine smiled and kissed Kurt's cheek. “You want me to deflower you?”

“You mean, more than you already have?”

Blaine nodded knowingly.

“I was thinking …” Again, Kurt felt the familiar heat return to his face. “Maybe on our wedding night? Or on our honeymoon?”

“Hmmmm,” Blaine said with a teasing look. “That's not too heteronormative?”

Kurt bit his lower lip as he shook his head. “Nope. It’s a wedding gift.”

“For you or me?”

Kurt rolled onto Blaine and kissed his chin, his cheek, his forehead. “That’s the beauty of it. We’ll find out together.”

[summertimemusician]

Linktober (Shadow) 2023, Day 11

Monsters (Dead Hand)

Summer Stop Giving Reader/PoV Character and the Chain a Hard Time and Trauma Challenge (impossible) /j. But really I'll probably write something lighter for Linktober or Linktober Shadow later to compensate for this one lol. Probably a sequel to this one that has Reader actually having a nice time with the Links for once.

Technically since unfortunately studying for future exam season in like a couple of days has been kicking me in the ribs and thus my time was highly cut and unfortunately I don't have an Ocarina to give me more, this is actually a mix of prompts! The ones in the title, Keese, Wolfos, Wizzrobe, Lizalfos, Redead, and Boss, although they are not the focus here, mostly just mentioned but technically checking out the boxes, maybe next time I'll go more in deep on that (Like the original idea that basically was Reader taming a pet Wolfos as a guard hound that I will not elaborate on at least not this year), instead y'all get this with the boss that gave a lot of people childhood trauma and was never seeing again since because we really don't talk about just why Dead Hands are terrifying much, just that they are, really missed opportunity to use them more in an LU context lol.

As always any relationship between Reader and any of the Chain can be interpreted as romantic or platonic, and Reader is Gender Neutral on Purpose. And First is here because again, this would have been longer if exam season wasn't kicking me in the ribs and I have some really evil ideas involving First, Reader and Time bonding over having trauma of enclosed spaces, but thankfully y'all don't get that today lol, or not, it would be a really fluffy scene so up to y'all if it's a win or a loss.

TW:

Don't think there's anything too heavy-ish? But I'm a horror fan so I'm not someone who can accurately judge that. I'd say graphic descriptions of violence and gore, and being restrained/pinned in place and the entire deal that is the Dead Hand's existing, so please don't read if you're squeamish or uncomfortable. Health is important and specially mental health and I always leave these warnings on Linktober Shadow related prompts or heavier stories, so just a heads up so no one is caught by surprise.

Anyway, enjoy reading!

It was an almost unanimous agreement that no hero liked to pass through a cemetery in Hyrule.

From the restless Gibdo, to the mischievous yet usually cruel Poes and the lost Ghini, to the ever wandering Stalfos and the ghastly agonized Redead and ever determined ghoulish Garo, nothing good ever came from entering in areas where dead things roam. You can't be sure if it's because of the magic in Hyrule, the living force of light and shadow and the divinity coursing through the land, or simply the will of the undead or the consequences of Demise attempting to claim the Triforce, graveyards and desolated fields meant silence, they should be where those who are gone should finally acquire their final catharsis, not to roam endlessly without release, solemn as these places are they are still places for a peaceful end and to be denied such due to the whims of the Shadow... You can think of very few awful fates that can compare.

('Terrible fates, you could say.' The grimly bemused part of your mind whispers, as you walk alongside Time further down into the crypt that you and the Chain had followed the shadow into, silver, prisitne armor briefly blends with old, rusted, bloody gold and you think you hear the rattling of bones in the distance, the draw of a rusted, but still serviceable sword. You shut it away with a snarl as you cut down the Stalfos attempting to ambush Wild from the rear, and it goes down and back into the darkness with a screech alongside the chilling knowleged and the sick cracking of broken bones, not on your watch, never on your watch, you refuse.)

"Of all places why did it have to be a bloody crypt?" Grimaced Warriors, casting a weary glance towards the skulls decorating the walls, their empty sockets empty but silently cutting, as if sneering at the fact you lot had dared disturb the dead, as if it wasn't the Shadow's mere presence making what would otherwise be a place for rest into a possible death trap.

Legend smirked, though you could tell he wasn't anymore pleased from the way he marched through the cold, cracked stone floor, steps flighty and eyes darting around corners, "What, a bit too much for you, soldier boy?"

"No," came the prim answer, although the twitch of the hand near his scabbard as you stepped into an open chamber gave him away, as well as Wind being kept at his side rather than near the wall, "Just don't generally like fighting the undead in closed spaces. It's a recipe for disaster."

"On that I believe we all can agree on." Came Time's voice, cutting through the banter, tense as a drawn bowstring, you knew being back in a crypt wasn't easy for him, with the way his jaw tensed, you both had the same awful memories of a similarly buried, abandoned place where dead things roamed without cease, frantic, hungry for the warmth of the living, "Keep your guard up, and stay close together."

Almost as if on cue came the monsters from the open corridors, you didn't hesitate in drawing your blade to cut through the enemy, keese were easily dispatched by Four and Legend's swords, you spun to slit the throat of a growling Wolfos from Twilight's era going for Sky's back just as he mercilessly chased down the Black Lizalfos, the beast clearly avoiding the glow from the Sword of Evil's Bane. Time's back to yours as you cleared the path for him and blocked the Shadow's exit through the left corridor, it had already proven that it would not matter if you did or not, but you refused to not let it work for survival.

The jolt of magic being used crawling up your spine was your first warning. Like the build up of lightning in a storm, the taste of rust and a feeling like tar  slithers up your throat.

The second was Wild's warning shout as the chamber shook with the grating, chilling, blood curdling howl of the Redeads, Time lunging away from your side to slash the beasts away from Wind and Warriors with all of the fury of a wolf defending it's pack, before you had to throw yourself back, slamming your back against the arch on the right as it caved in, lest you be crushed alongside the Wolfos coming for your neck the second the older hero moved.

You were separated.

You were alone.

A really, really bad spot to be when in Hyrule's catacombs.

"Are you alright?!", Came muffled from the other side of the stones, the hint of an actual wolf's growl and the distinctive Ordonian cadence, Twilight.

"I'm fine! Keep fighting, I'll find my way to you guys!", You yell back, heart racing, trying not to think about what you could find on your way back, you didn't have any bombs on you, it wasn't feasible to use them in a place as old as this, not without risk bringing down the ceiling on you and the Chain. But most catacombs have interconnected hallways, if you moved quickly, you might just avoid finding anything that you won't be able to handle on your own.

You think Twilight replies, but it's muffled by another Redead's yowl, you wince, your muscles lock up and you feel something warm drip from your ears, but thankfully you are not rendered immobile due to the involuntary wall, you swallow your trepidation and get moving.

The further you get away from the fallen stones, the more silent the catacombs extending from the crypt you were dropped in became, shadows twist oddly by the torches upon the wall with only your breathing and the cold, unfeeling remains of the dead to keep you company, the lowly burning flames bringing you no warmth. The corridors blended together in the darkness cast by the faint light, the shades contorting themselves in the crevices of your paranoia the longer you went on with only your own hurried footsteps to make any true sound.

Not one monster had found it's way to you thus far, though, and according to the copy of the map Legend had made the second you had acquired the original from a very unfortunate Wizzrobe from Wild's era. You just needed to pass one more open chamber to find the corridor leading to your boys, You couldn't keep them waiting, who knew how long it would take for the fight to finish if Redead's were involved? And staying still when the Shadow could turn itself intangible was practically begging it to switch it's attention, it usually didn't pay you as much mind as it did the heroes, Time specially (it seemed to hold a grudge against him more than any of your boys, you noted bitterly), but it would occasionally target you if it meant getting a rise from any of the Link's or if it felt you were too  secure in your safety, it was better if you found your way back first to the hunt before you became hunted.

You grit your teeth, by Hylia's dripping gash, you were so. darn. tired. of. being. hunted.

Of watching your friends being led into a wild hunt with no end in sight, dragged by the noose by a remnant that refused to stay dead, you never thought you could burn with so much anger, with the desire to see if fire would scare it sober into ceasing in it's infection of all of Hyrule's Eras. But unfortunately you knew it didn't work like that, so you had to survive, you would survive, because someone had to protect the heroes when the heroes protected everyone else and if no one was going to step up to the job, you'd just have to do it yourself.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, lest you end up drowning in them, you breath in relief as soon as you come upon the metal door with the symbol of the royal family, faded and rusted with age, there. You just needed to pass through this chamber and the corridor next to it, and you'd be back with Link, all of them, and hopefully out of here. You push it open, grip tightening on your long dagger, almost a sword, good enough to cut and hide. The thick and pungent combination of old, congealed blood, sick and decaying flesh, something like rotten eggs dipped in alcohol and withered flowers hits your nose, making you nauseous but you press on, the chamber is circular and dimly lit, with a long cracked, soft stone from a leak in the walls. You studiously do not look at the far corner of the dungeon or the pillory's and shackles scattered around near the cells,  there's a second door to the other side, as soon as you pass through it you'll be in another corridor.

... It's silent, too quiet. Unease slithers and twists around you like vines, but you can't delay, you won't, so you keep walking-

Until you can't.

Something has grabbed a hold of your leg. You look down, and your blood freezes, spotting a long, sickly, pale arm and a bright crimson, elongated nails, claw-like, digging into your ankle, having dug itself up from the fragile ground.

You don't hesitate, slashing down violently at the offending limb, frantic terror spreads through your blood, you knew what was here. It featured in your nightmares for a long, long time, you knew it still haunted Time's, the limb goes slack as it is severed, and you barely note the way it starts bleeding black and green at the stump, thankful for Four's expert craftsmanship and maintenance hints as you dive to the exit. You don't make it far, it's companion limbs  bursting in front of your path like a snake emerging from the ground, it makes a solid grab for your  arms, one of them grabs you by the scalp, firmly digging as you dodge and weave between, a stabbing pain upon your skull from the indomitable grip of something fueled by fury, twisted magic and rigor mortis and makes you cry out, your slight moment of hesitation allowing two more hands to latch onto your legs and arms, nails slicing through your flesh like easily and digging, tearing like a rabid hunting dog's teeth upon an unfortunate deer, leaving deep gashes upon your arms and ankles, it's not unlike being pinned and held to a torture rack, in hindsight, ironic given just where in the crypt you ended up.

Your hear the ground below shifting below you, a groan carrying through the air, awfully monstrous, coldly human. You struggle harder like a desperate butterfly upon a dissection board, from your peripheral, you see the form of the thing unhurriedly dragging itself over, it uses the sharp and bloody ends of where bone was broken to slice it's hands off to shuffle out of the grave, using it's stubs as support. Long long neck barely supporting it's elongated head, the scent of rot intensifies and you feel like gagging as it settles it's empty, frigid, hungry eye sockets on your bound form; it's broken jaw contorting itself in a mockery of a human smile over rotten gums and exposed teeth, stretching unnaturally and bringing emphasis to it's rotting, bloodied sunken features. From behind it's bloated, putrid shape, barely obscured by the bloodied white cloth and the grotesque vision of the undead you swear the crimson eyes of the shadow, watching you coldly, the hint of a knife sharp, serpentine smile as the sound of wet meat slamming across the ground rings in the chamber.

Fury mixes with your panic as you snarl, trying to twist the dagger in your grip as best as you can to drive it into the arms, pain and blood drips from the open wound but you don't care; you need to get away from the Dead Hand. A monster like that feels no pain when struck for it is not human, not any longer, and you couldn't hope to face an infected one alone, it shuffles over the floor, unhurriedly shuffling like a predator that knows it's prey can't run away, it moans and groans with hunger as it approaches and you have no intention of giving it a meal, you grit your teeth as the nails sink deeply into your shoulders and arms, using your blade to saw through rotting flesh and hopefully break bone with every single inch of strenght you have, the blade is slick in your hand with your own blood and the poison-tar of the Shadow's infection burning through you but you do not mind, can't. You need to get away-

The undead's teeth sink into the hollow of your collarbone, blunt, human teeth that shouldn't have half the strenght it does to rip through flesh, blood and crack bone, and you caterwaul with pain, skin crawling and numbing and set aflame with curses sent from the dark reflection of the hero, darkening, veins blackening, your eardrums vibrate with the force of your own agony and you are sure you could rival a Redead on pitch alone of your tortured howl. Struggling even more ferociously, attempting to disloged it, kick it off, your blade sucessfully slashes through the arm from your reverse grip, pushing away from it with the savegery off a cornered predator you sink your long dagger into the undead's eye sockets, tearing through it's cheek with animal ferocity, it keens high and chilling, you're losing blood quickly and it (for it's not a human, not anymore, you can't feel sympathy for it, won't. You can't hesitate.) knows, for it tries to chomp down onto your vulnerable neck, your arm being the only thing keeping it from biting it out as you growl with pain, although you can't be sure it just won't bite through, it's teeth are bared, the pitch of it's blank eyes locked onto yours in stalemate, you have the advantage of not being weakened by hunger and decay, not sluggish like it but that will not help for long, the clammy being determined to bleed you dry and feast on your corpse and you are drowning drowning drowningDROWNINGWITHWRETCHEDTORMENT MAKE.THE.PAIN.STOP-

A scream of your name, sword calloused hands yank you away from claws and fangs (because nothing with blunt teeth and nails should be able to wound someone so throughly), you waver on your feet, swaying, supported by a warm, strong body and pulled away. A sword slashes the foul being away from you and you go lax, numb with pain.

First, First was supporting you. Keeping you steady, stopping you from falling, snarling at the corpse with a lion's fury, holding you protectively. Time tears by him like a man possessed, frenzied with the look of a man looking at his worst nightmare and growling in denial. The Links, wounded but alive, the Chain had met you halfway.

The last thing you remember before losing conciousness as adrenaline leaves your body and everything goes dark, is wishing that they'll burn it to be sure it's gone for good. It's the kindest thing that can be done for a such a wretched existence.

You'd be okay.