#Chapter 6 will be posted soon.

[canonicallyobserving911]

“I can’t imagine anything more painful than going through life alone. Except maybe one thing… going through death alone.”

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

New Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - 8x6 "Confessions" through mid-season finale Speculation: “I can’t imagine anything more painful than going through life alone. Except maybe one thing… going through death alone.”

Chapter 5 is now available on AO3.

“I can’t imagine anything more painful than going through life alone. Except maybe one thing… going through death alone.”

Fic Summary: Eddie feels completely alone, he isolates himself and the weight of it causes him to slip into a deep depression. Once he accepts the fact that he’ll die alone, he has a decision to make regarding his life. Buck finally gets clarity about his relationship status and once he does, realization sets in and he becomes frustrated that he didn’t see it coming. Will they finally figure out they’re each other’s person before it’s too late?

Currently 5 of 7 chapters completed: 72.6K Words; Rated: Teens and Up Audiences

One chapter will be posted at a time.

___________

Here's a snippet from Chapter 5 of Buck and Eddie talking while they're sitting on the beach.

___________

Eddie confesses, “She asked me for a… divorce.”

The silence between them is deafening as they allow his words to surround them.

As his confession reverberates inside of Buck’s mind, he takes a moment to review them then he tries to decide the best way to respond. After he does, he asks, “Ok. What um… did you say?”

“Honestly, I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t wrap my head around it.”

Buck slowly nods as he attempts to process the information. Back then, he wasn’t sure why Eddie was so dead set on reconnecting and recommitting his life to a woman who showed him many times she didn’t want to be there. Eddie said he was already reluctant to let her back into Chris’ life then he did but that was after she showed up at the station unannounced and loudly said in front of him and Chimney, they were sleeping together. A few days later, when he mentioned it to Chimney, he said it wasn’t any of their business, so he dropped it.

He’s not sure what he should say but instead of spiraling, he chooses to reply with the only thing he can think of. ���You uh… said she suggested it but did you want a divorce?”

Eddie sighs and takes a moment to determine the best way to respond. He figures he should easily be able to say it but once the words come out of his mouth, they’ll be real and he’s not sure he’s ready to face that. “I—I… ok, here’s the thing. The only reason why I was trying so hard to get our family back together was because she told me she was pregnant.”

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Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie’s avoiding conversations with everyone at the 118 to prevent having to talk about how lonely he feels. On the other hand, Buck excitedly prepares to spend a romantic weekend with his boyfriend only to learn something he should already know.

Chapter 2 - Eddie appears to be happy whenever he’s at work but the truth is he’s masking his high-functioning depression with smiles and laughter. After another call with Chris, he falls deeper into depression and for the second time since he’s been living in L.A., he considers risking it all because he has nothing to lose. Since Buck’s got clarity on his non-existent romantic relationship, his fear of being left behind resurfaces and it causes him to spiral and he thinks he’s lost everything. In his search for answers to his relationship problems, he starts asking the questions he should have asked years ago.

Chapter 3 - Both Buck and Eddie experience déjà vu numerous times over the course of three days and during those encounters, Buck’s reminded of his own definition of love while defining moments from Eddie’s past resurface and he finally forces himself to confront them.

Chapter 4 - As Eddie hits rock bottom, he has a difficult time trying to pull himself back up and Buck does what he always does, he never gives up.

Chapter 5 - Buck’s inside Eddie’s home and he’s standing right in front of him explaining he’s here to help. Eddie’s happy to see him and he’s finally ready to make several confessions about the things that have been happening and the way he’s been feeling.

Chapter 6 - Will be posted soon.

Chapter 7 - Will be posted soon.

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Read: chapters 1 - 5 are available on AO3.

Continue reading on AO3

[forgettable-au]

END OF CHAPTER ONE

FORGETTABLE-AU (Page 65-72)

* Time to put this puzzle together.

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

[miyamoratsumuu]

post may or may not be cringe, but we're rolling with it 🤙🏼

I dreaded having to do this (again) all year long, but guess who's going on a semi-hiatus!!!! hint: me ☝🏻 (I'll call it semi bc I'll prob be lurking around here and there still, lmao)

most of you may know, but I've been super busy with school lately given that I'm graduating this year, sooo I'm predicting it rn I won't be able to write anything for a while 😞

it's not that I don't have free time at all, it's just that everything that's been on my mind lately is shoolschoolschool, and I almost never think of anything else 😭 + I can't find it in myself to have the mental capacity to balance everything I have going on here and aiming to be at the podium once graduation comes around

though I will be posting chapter 6 of push & pull this week, AND maybe a teaser for score his heart?? but idk, we'll see! if I do end up posting both of those, I think that'll be it for a while

I'm so sorry to be letting anyone down, especially those who have been enjoying my ongoing series so far</3 I promise that once I make the time to write in between school and my social life outside of tumblr, I'll be back to writing/posting better than ever!!

I'll just take this opportunity to thank everyone for supporting me and my works this past summer vacation!! I truly believe I wouldn't have been able to survive the summer heat without you all 🤕

thank you all so so much, I hope you understand!! as I mentioned, I'll still be lurking around the app and answering asks/messages if necessary!! I LOVE YOU ALL SOOO MUCH, I'LL BE BACK BETTER THAN EVER, I PROMISE!!<33

[collegeboysam]

Chapter 5 :

Aemond is sure he would save himself a lot of trouble if he simply threw Lucerys in a cell and made sure to lose the fucking key. Perhaps he could simply make his rooms the cage and tie Lucerys to the end of his bed. Like a dog, rope around his neck. He brings his face up close then, looking down at his nephew, approaching him until their lips are barely inches away and Lucerys can feel his breath when Aemond speaks. “You’re not going to wed any of the useless fucking knights, ladies nor squires that will come crawling to King's Landing to ask for your rotten hand in marriage.” Aemond is a prisoner of his own desires, but he basks in the knowledge of sharing his depraved enclosure with the man who caged him there in the first place. If he’s a captive of his disgusting hunger then he shall not rot alone, for his nephew will be next to him in this all-consuming cell.

Update on AO3

Pairing: Aemod Targaryen/Lucerys Velaryon

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Canon Divergence, Aged-Up Characters, Mutual Pining, Mutual Lusting, Jealous Aemond, Possessive Aemond, Mutually Obsessed Body Worship, Comeplay, Knifeplay, Bloodplay.

[queenofbaws]

there are already roughly a million posts like this already circulating, but man. just. sometimes you really do have to step away from something you're working on and come back to it later.

creative buds, please. please. no one is worse at taking my advice than i am, believe me, but seriously, if you've been feeling down or frustrated or stumped with something you've been working on lately, take this as your sign to maybe take a little break. a week, a month, whatever. you've been looking at it too long, you've read it too many times, you've erased that same line so many times you've lost count - you need to come back to it with a rested brain and fresh eyes.

however rough it feels to you now, i promise, promise, promise that it'll feel so much better after a little distance. <3

[prettyflyshyguy]

What are you gonna do, monster boy?

Amazing what I can achieve when I put a song on repeat. Smashed this one out as something fun, refreshing and stress free. Still working on the big final chapter of the C Virus AU, but I'm recovering my confidence as a writer by letting myself work on some sillier things. Good practice too.

This is a mini story based on this phenomenal post and an overly complicated idea I had from it.

Enjoy the garbage here, or on AO3.

“You look nice.” Leon smiled wryly.

Chris rolled his eyes as he pushed the elevator doors back for Leon, who was wasting all the time in the world as he made his way down the corridor. The sharp cut business attire didn’t suit him as much as it barely fit him. A necessary evil, Leon had assured him. It’ll go down better.

To aid in Rebecca’s continued research, and for ease of access to monitoring the effects of the trial viral inhibitors she’d prescribed him, Leon was temporarily assigned to assisting in BSAA operations. The guise was of course that his knowledge post-Lanshiang was critical in containing and mitigating the impact of smaller scale and localised outbreaks of the C-Virus. A half truth, no one seemed to question it so far and a number of months had already passed. The global crisis raged on, the work never ended, his temporary partnership was easily justified to nosy journalists and more discerning governmental bodies.

Chris perpetually winged to him the whole elevator ride about how much he found the bureaucratic nature of these meetings tiresome. Paper pushers, out-of-touch management. Stakeholders who never set foot on ground zero yet felt qualified to call the shots. 

“If it weren't for people like that, we wouldn't be here.” Leon retorted, “You saying you’d want to be out of a job?”

He smiled as he watched Chris fiddle for the umpteenth time with his collar and tie.

“If people like that weren't around, there’d be no BOW based warfare. I’ll be glad the day I’m made redundant.” Chris huffed as he loosened his tie slightly.

Leon conceded that the man had a point.

The meeting was routine. The BSAA was called in to clean up a minor incident, it was successful, and so various representatives and stakeholders for the client would be meeting with the BSAA to discuss the outcome and debrief. Chris had insisted on arriving early, saying that this meeting was critical given the circumstance of the client, and it needed to go smoothly. 

Although it wasn’t mentioned, Leon could tell he appreciated the emotional support.

-

Chris was, for all intents and purposes, an exemplary operator within the BSAA. Most notable about him was his considerable empathy, fierce determination to do what's right, and how much he believed they had the power to change the world for the better. Quality traits, Leon respected him highly for them all, however, the latter might be considered a tad naive. Chris was an exemplary operator, trapped in a room, surrounded by stakeholders and board members. Politicians, in the figurative sense, and arguably the worst kind. Leon’s eyes darted around the seated figures, noting the sheen of luxurious silk clothes, tailored suits and wrist watches that were never used for any practical purpose. If you had to ask, you couldn’t afford it. 

There were a handful of friendlies on the south end of the oval table where Leon and Chris sat opposite. Leon knew them all as subordinates within the teams Chris oversaw, all good men and women, people you could trust. They had kindness in their eyes despite the worn and torn faces they wore, they shared the optimism of their Captain. They existed in stark contrast to the other two thirds of the table where the client cartel sat in horseshoe formation, their backs positioned to the entrance to the room, psychologically forming a barrier between the BSAA staff and the exit. 

“-pride ourselves in swiftly responding to an incident, and I am very pleased with the outcome and the performance of my team.”

Leon watched Chris fidget slightly in his seat as he spoke. He was clearly uncomfortable, but he was handling it well. Still, Chris was out of his depth. 

Politicians were hard enough to hold a work related conversation with. They were always playing games. A simple discussion became a contract with fine print, never in your favor or your benefit. More was always demanded of you, because good was never good enough for them. He wondered who had more power anyway, in these strange times. Was it the politicians he was used to handling, or the people sitting a few meters away from him. 

“-the use of B.O.W units by the BSAA?”

Leon’s attention violently snapped back to the woman seated at the head of the table. She shuffled through a document folder, licking a finger to flick through the pages effortlessly. Peering down through a set of reading glasses with a fine gold chain draped around her neck, a frown crinkled the skin on her forehead. She looked to be at least fifty years of age, with the telltale signs that she’d had work done to maintain a youthful presentation. Despite mankind mastering the molding of biology, they were still unable to tame the passage of time. The cracks in her mask formed when she frowned, and her voice gave away her years. Her dark eyes shifted upwards, piercing out from behind a sunken brow.

“I-Wh-Excuse me?” Chris stammered, shocked at whatever she had just implied.

Leon looked around the room hoping to find some context. The BSAA members appeared just as confused and shocked as he was. 

“Mr. Redfield, as the lead operator of this…” the woman paused, a chill beginning to settle on the room, “... Successful operation…”

Chris stiffened in his chair. Leon squinted from across the table and could barely make out the tiny printed details on her visitors identification badge.

Ms. Harker, CTO, Valhanian Pharmaceuticals. 

This is bad, he thought.

“... Do you condone the use of Bio-Organic-Weapons by the BSAA?” 

Harker’s speech had a sharp whistle to it that pierced the air of the room and the stunned silence of the attendees. This was a regular Tuesday lunch for Leon, for Chris this may as well be judgment day at the pearly gates. 

Don’t.

As if willing it so hard might psychically influence Chris into responding the right way.

Chris, don’t.

“What the hell are you trying to say?”

Fuck.

He couldn’t fault Chris for being defensive, but god, if there ever was a worse time for it.

“It’s a simple question, Mr Redfield.”

Chris rolled back his shoulders and leaned into his chair, hands clasped tightly on the tabletop, trying to calm himself as he regulated the tone of his response.  

“Of course we don’t condone the use of B.O.W’s, the BSAA was formed specifically to combat their use and propagation.” he responded calmly and confidently. 

“Thank you Mr Redfield, you’ve alleviated my concerns regarding your intelligence.”

Leon flinched at the insult. Glancing at Chris, he could see his friend's quick fuse burning at an alarming rate. 

“However your conviction is something I fear I must question.” 

Chris swallowed. The colour had drained ever so slightly from his face.

“I only think it’s right that the BSAA is transparent with regards to how it operates. We came to you on the good faith you would have the professionalism to help us clean up a horrific accident…” she gently placed the manilla folder back on the desk in front of her, and started to lay out items from inside it in an organised fashion.

“... and what are we without safety protocols and rigidity? Our products keep people alive and healthy all over the world, as I’m sure you’re all well aware.”

The venom in her tone caused a shiver to roll across Leon’s skin. 

“So to sit here in front of myself and my associates, and represent the BSAA, I find this conviction quite concerning with regards to what I’m going to show you.”

With a twist of her wrist she selected and slid a photograph down the length of the table, as if to twist the knife deeper.

“Care to explain this to me, Mr Redfield?”

Chris gently reached for the photograph, his hand trembled ever so slightly. The sight of Chris of all people, this nervous unsettled Leon like nothing else, despite everything he’d been through and seen before. Somehow a room full of big-pharma sharks was scarier than a giant monster covered in teeth and claws. He felt his heart beat a little faster as Chris eyed the photograph.

“I’m sorry, what exactly am I looking at?”

Good, good. Leon thought. Don’t give it to them easy. 

“What you are looking at, Mr Redfield, is an image pulled from our security system. It’s the clearest shot our team recovered, as either the camera’s were tampered with, or their blind spots were carefully utilised by this….” she paused, tapping the table with an acrylic nail as she pondered what word would be most appropriate.

“... individual.”

She paused to let the phrase sink in before continuing.

“It failed to hide entirely from us however, and in that image you can clearly see it is wearing a uniform that matches those of your team, yet it is not a human.”

Fuck. He’d been so careful, so cautious.

Something had felt off about the job from the minute Leon set boots on the ground outside the factory. Chris had assured him that it’d be smooth, he’d done it a hundred times before, there shouldn’t be any issues. It was a C-Virus outbreak for sure, but not the normal kind. Valhanian was working on vaccines and preventative medication, blockers for the immune system that could quickly and effectively obliterate the virus or prevent it from even gaining a hold on the system. The most common form was the standard strains that had a very similar effect on humans as the T-Virus did, which they were led to believe was the main focus of the factory - manufacturing and R&D for the ‘zombie’ strains. 

What they found waiting for them was most certainly not the standard C-Virus infected humans. 

Chris had brushed it off at the time, claiming that with how volatile the virus was, he wasn’t surprised that something had gone wrong and there were chrysalid variants in the facility.

Nothing’s without risk, something must have gone wrong, it’s not like we haven’t handled this sort of thing before.

Leon knew that there was no way in hell that a company with that much money in the game of vaccines would fuck around and find out - risking everything in the process. But it wasn’t worth arguing with Chris, he insisted that it wasn’t his job to worry about the science team’s side of things and that ‘Rebecca will figure it out.’ 

Chris was ever the optimist on his good days. Leon had seen too much to trust any corporation that invested in the field of medicine. You don’t get fission without fusion, and anyone who claimed that advancements in bio-organic warfare had no links to advancements in medicine, was a fool or a liar. Most likely both. 

Naturally, something went wrong on the job, sure he’d had a little ‘mutation’ incident, but Rebecca’s drugs worked a treat, they just took a while to fully kick in. 

.

“I don’t know what this is or what you’re trying to do, we don’t employ B.O.W’s as part of our operations, whatever you’re trying to claim with this is unfounded.” Chris responded in anger.

No no no you dumbass, don’t give it to them Chris!

“Mr. Redfield, I'm just being thorough.” Harker’s voice took the tone of a teacher reprimanding a student, “You’re no stranger to the industry, and I’m sure you understand we are very conscious and concerned about protecting our business. Incidents like this are of a high concern to us as the entire reason we brought the BSAA in to assist us was to stop a B.O.W incident.”

Chris glanced briefly at the BSAA staff seated around him, and Leon. Fear and panic reflected in his eyes, a silent cry for help. Leon could tell that Chris knew who was in the photograph and could only lie about it for so long before the game was given away.

Leon cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the sharks.

“Ms Harker I can assure you that Chris is just as shocked as you are, and that the BSAA operates at the highest level of-”

“Thank you for your assurance, Mr Kennedy,” Harker interrupted, her full attention snapping to Leon “but I believe you are not a member of the BSAA is that correct?”

There was a predatory look to her gaze. Leon’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yes, I’m temporarily assigned to assist them in operations regarding the C-Virus as I have first hand experience with it that has proven invaluable in us combatting further outbreaks.”

“I don’t doubt that Mr. Kennedy. I’m aware of your reputation and high standing. Our country has a lot to thank you for.” 

He shivered again. There was no genuinity to her tone.

“I just wish to express my concerns, as I feel we deserve an explanation to the security footage.”

Leon dug his fingers into his thigh, scrunching the fabric of his chinos, hands hidden under the table. Showing any public sign of fear or nerves would be his downfall.

“Trust is critical to any operation, but you all know this of course. How can we trust the BSAA after seeing this? How can you even trust yourselves?” 

Seeing a hint of a smile form at the edges of her mouth, Leon’s temper began to rise.

Chris began to speak, only to be cut off by Harker’s shrill tone.

“Have you considered that there may be individuals lying dormantly infected, unbeknownst to the world, the BSAA, even themselves?

Leon bit down on his tongue. 

“Perhaps there’s an infected individual sitting in this room with us right now.”

Chris went white and gripped the photograph tighter, holding himself back from instinctively looking away from Harker, he could see the bait now but it was too late.

“Perhaps it's someone not within the BSAA.” she trailed off softly as she shifted her sights from Chris to Leon. 

He felt the eyes of every member of the meeting shift to look at him in horror. 

[thelawsofdaylight]

Pairing: Enjolras & Courfeyrac & Combeferre, Cosette & Enjolras Words: 4,610 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen and up

Fic Summary:

Enjolras is left injured after a meeting takes an unexpected turn, Courfeyrac is not happy with a plan that has been made, and Combeferre attempts to mediate the whole way through.

Cosette convinces her father to help a stranger and ends up accidentally aiding the revolutionary efforts of Les Amis de l'ABC.

My Discorinthe exchange fic for @syrupsyche! <3

[gothic-lottie]

Just wrote a scene that actually made me cry. How's everyone else's day going?

[whoblewboobear]

For the wip ask game: Hope

Ah!! Thank you~

Here’s where it comes up in chapter 8 of what is it I must do for you~ probably one of my fave chapters to write hands down:

[witheringhouls]

was thinking ab an ode to life in the shower and-

would Will, after working at the tattoo parlour for a bit longer, let Jane/other workers practice on him? bonus question: if he end up being a tattoo artist in the future would he tattoo himself when he gets bored? bonus bonus question would Will ever let Mike/Jane/others give him any piercings? THATS ALL THANK YOU!!!

GIGGLING I LOVE AOTL

Omg thank you for the ask I have THOUGHTS. He would let Jane/ the other workers pratice on him after working there for a little longer. He doesn't really see the point of going to a different place and is just like 'i trust new guy Steve , I'll let him drill ink into my skin'. At first i think will would be really scared to tattoo himself and then one day literally fucking nobody comes to the parlor and when he comes home he's so excited and he has tattooed like the absolute smaller little ghost or some shit on his ankle and Mike is just so inlove but also dying laughing. ( I know tattooing dumb shit on his ankle and then being really excited to show it to someone is more in character for Mike but shhhh ). I think will really wants some piercings from Jane and Mike (not as many as they have but like a few) but mike is absolutely horrified by the idea not because he's against will having piercings but because will refuses to get them done professionally because he wants them done by Jane or Mike. And he wakes up one night to find Jane giving will a piercing having like numbed the area with an ice cube and piercing with a hot needle and is so upset (don't really know if that's the right word) that Jane has to point out the hipocrasy because she did all of Mike's piercings like this and Mike has a shit ton of piercings . Bonus : mike then refuses to say it looks nice for about a week because he thinks will looks really good with piercings but absolutely does not want Jane to pierce him again.

[gingerwerk]

Wrote 2,300 words today 😤

[tunastime]

prove to me that angels do love us

or Scar finds that the many times he's pulled into the void it feels almost like home, a radiance unlike the times he's died before. A painlessness, a love. And then he starts to connect the dots.

or, Grian loves Scar, just in a very strange way.

(Scar keeps falling into the Boatem Hole. He's starting to figure out why. Grian pines after a man prone to falling into the Boatem Hole. He's starting to think it's his fault.)

(17,203 words) (ao3)

Grian has a problem.

He isn’t supposed to feel this way. He, really, isn’t supposed to do a lot of things. He’s not supposed to be interacting. He’s not supposed to play favorites. But it feels too hard not to—so much to see and feel and touch and interact with and speak to and be near and he has to take it all in. What if it’s too late later? What if he doesn’t have forever like they all say he does?

Being a Watcher comes with many perks. And Grian abused them profusely. That wasn’t his problem, though. His problem was that Scar kept getting himself killed by the Boatem Hole and Grian knew it was his fault.

Not physically, though the number of times Grian pushed Scar into the Boatem Hole could not easily be counted on one hand. He didn’t mean for whatever he was feeling to seep into the fabrics of the world he stayed in but it seemed that people often felt a little pulled into the Boatem Hole and it was becoming an issue. Especially for Scar.

He decided, though, that as of now, it wasn’t a problem. It hadn’t happened in weeks, so it was a nonissue, right?

Future Grian could deal with it.

Grian stretches his legs out in front of him. He’s perched on the shingled roof of his house, picking at the leaves stuck under the thin sheets of deepslate. There’s a tight feeling in his stomach, one that he doesn’t think a real meal will settle. He leans back for a moment, letting the sun onto his face, stretching large bright wings under the rays just to let them soak a bit longer. Some days it was a blistering heat, and today, thankfully, it isn’t.

Leaning forward, Grian looks out onto Boatem. The sun is about midway through the sky, still high enough to beam open down on him. As he shields his eyes, he sees someone, down on the paths of Boatem, tracking toward the buildings edging the Swaggon.

Oh  , Grian notices, even without the tall hat and red, two tailed coat,  Scar .

“Scar!” Grian shouts. He lifts his arm, waving in a wide circle. Scar pauses, looking up. He shades his eyes, then waves back, squinting.

He looks small from this height, carrying a bag, carrying a pickaxe, leaning heavy on the wooden walking stick he propped himself up with. He walks far enough into the shade of the wagon to where Grian loses him. He sits up, craning his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of his green waistcoat but finds nothing but trees.

After a minute, he sees him again and sits back. He watches him move heavy stacks of copper bricks, lifting and moving the oxidized metal back and around, further down and out of sight. Just peeking into view, Grian can see a shape rising further down, nearly covered by the trees. More Swaggon. More buildings. More copper. Scar disappears again, and Grian doesn’t see him reappear.

Grian laughs to himself. Without the mountain to keep him occupied, Scar had to find other work, despite tired bones and aching muscles and a need to sit more than he stood. Grian sits back.  Scar pushes himself too hard. He works too much. He needs to take a break.  

Stretching his arms above his head, Grian stands, balancing precariously on the shingles of the roof. He sets himself against the chimney to stabilize himself, feet planted on the cusp of the roof’s ridge. As he does, he sees Scar again. He’s shaking his head, moving around the side of the Swaggon. He holds his hand awkwardly. He doesn’t have his staff.

Grian frowns.

“You okay, Scar?”

Scar pauses as, for the second time, he hears his name. He looks up, nodding as he recognizes Grian, but Grian doesn’t take that as an answer to his question. Scar ducks away as Grian’s eyes leave him. Grian  tsks as when his eyes snap back he doesn’t see Scar, and in a smooth motion, he pulls away from the chimney and down into the wind, catching the air and the sun in his feathers. He drags himself down to the Earth, feet meeting grass and soil. He can hear Scar, but he can’t see him.

“Scar?”

“He-ey! Grian!” Scar calls. Grian can see the green outline of his waistcoat behind the wheels of the wagon, near the clutter of chests he called an organization system. As Grian ducks under the wheels of the wagon, Scar turns away from him, still holding himself at a peculiar angle. He turns his head, rather than his body, to see Grian approach.

Grian frowns, eyebrows furrowing.

“You alright?” he asks again. Scar nods, eyebrows pulling together, waving his hand.

“Oh, I’m fine, looking for some bandages, though, you know...” he trails off. He sounds transfixed on something else other than Grian, eyes darting as he opens another chest beside him, digging through. He pauses his rifling for just a moment as he finds what he’s looking for: a roll of white bandage. His eyes flick back to Grian and his face flushes.

“It’s all good, you know me,” he says, a little laugh coming to his voice. Grian sees the edges of his smile peek across his face, and though it does little to sooth the anxiety bubbling up in his chest, it’s nice, it feels nice to see, and it nearly distracts him long enough to miss that Scar is rapidly pulling away the roll of bandage.

“Scar, let me see that,” Grian grabs his arm. Scar folds, turning toward him, but lifts his hand, half wrapped, above his head.

“It’s fine!”

“Give me your hand!”

“Grian—” Scar huffs, trying to pull away from him. He can’t—Grian latches on to his wrist, pulling him back down. His wrist is sticky, and when Grian pulls the poorly wrapped bandage away, Scar’s palm comes up red. Scar winces.

“Careful!” he chides. Grian’s frown deepens as he looks up at him.

“What did you do?”

“I—” Scar squirms, trying to pull his hand away. “I just cut myself cutting copper, I’m fine!”

“Let me see that,” Grian gestures to the bandage in Scar’s other hand. Hesitating, Scar did, sighing through his nose. He’s rolled up his sleeves, Grian notices, so the blood that sticks to his hand and wrist hasn’t stained his shirt, but it stains the pale scars on his skin and crawls down the side of his arm. Scar splays his fingers as Grian starts to work. He pulls the bandage around his hand, holding his hand aloft by his wrist. Scar keeps his head down. His eyes follow the movement, he keeps silent.

“You’ve got to be more careful,” Grian says. “What happens when it’s deep enough to be sewn up? You know you can’t hold stitches, you...” Grian sighs. There’s no use chastising Scar more than he needed. He shakes his head, but his expression softens. He doesn’t think Scar is really listening anyway.

“Yeah, yeah,” Scar says. His voice is tinged with amusement as he sighs again through his nose, and that smile returns. Grian rolls his eyes as he drops Scar’s wrist.

“Thanks, Grian,” Scar says after a beat. Grian nods and he can’t help smiling back.

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Say,” Scar says, squinting down the path he made from the chests over to the newest build—Grian can see it now, it’s ladders and scaffolding and he really can’t tell if it’s anything coherent but it looks rather nice so he doesn’t think twice about it. “Do you think you can get my cane for me?”

He looks between Grian and the build before he continues. “The braces work pretty well as a standalone but I’d prefer it to walk, and I got a little distracted with the...'' he looks away sheepishly. “with the blood and whatnot.”

Grian sighs, though it’s less out of displeasure and more out of worry. He nods.

“Sure I can,” he says, and Scar’s face lights up as he sits on one of the chests. It only takes a moment for Grian to find it, carrying it over to Scar. He holds it out, and when Scar takes it from him their hands rest together on the wooden body. Even though his stomach drops, Grian forces a smile.

“Thanks,” Scar says. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I’d say die, but you do that with my help too,” Grian manages as he pulls his hand away. Scar snorts.

“You can say that again,” he sighs, smiling at Grian. Grian’s stomach does a little flip as Scar says: “But I appreciate it. At least you try.”

“I try...” Grian trails. Scar gives him a firm pat on the shoulder with his good hand, snapping him out of the temporary daze that holds him. He startles, looking into Scar’s face.

“I’ve got to get back to cutting copper, but I promise I’ll be careful,” Scar says. He gives Grian’s shoulder a squeeze, and Grian nods.

“Please do,” Grian manages.

He watches Scar as Scar moves away from him, casting a carefree smile over his shoulder as he does, turning his bandaged hand over and over. Grian watches him go until he becomes lost behind a wheel of the Swaggon, and continues watching until the shadows grow a bit longer than before and the trees loom a little higher.

There’s an oppressive feeling in Grian’s stomach, and he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do about it. As he trails back to his home, he turns his problem over in his head. At this point, was it even fair to consider it a problem? Was feeling a problem? A bad thing? Did he want to not like Scar? Scar—with a comforting smile and pretty eyes, with a knack for getting into, and subsequently out of chaos, Grian’s favorite pastime, someone who fully, wholeheartedly trusted him to keep him safe, a man who he would follow to the end of the Earth to keep alive, who’s laugh was akin to being held, who’s attention to detail captivated him, who’s hands created at flights of fancy, who’s—

Grian teeters, boots peeking over the edge of the Boatem Hole.

He shakes his head—yes, yes all of those things were true, but what good was a feeling he could never express? What good was a feeling that was simply eating him alive?

Standing at the edge of the Boatem Hole, Grian looks out onto Boatem Proper. There’s a stillness in the drafty afternoon air that carries with it the smell of sea water and wheatgrass and Grian takes a lungful before he decides what to do. Pearl’s house, a menagerie of windows and doors strewn open to take in the air, meets his eye.

Pearl , Grian thinks. A Watcher. Watcher in creed as much as he was, bright eyes and bright wings and a bright energy for getting into trouble. He’d gone to her a million times before—what was a million and one?

read the rest on ao3!

[seventh-district]

several days and 15 thousand words later, i am relieved to report that the suffocating urge to Write Something has been sated and no longer has me in a chokehold

[celestial-toys]

*crawls out of my isolation cave. slaps a 10 thousand word document on the ground. passes out.*

[mirrortouchedsea]

getting motivated to work on that kaokana fic finally and i have added like 1k this week.... so much progress for me i'm so happy

[whoistrash]

So. I think this is a perfect moment to share my playlist for @fordtato's Jersey Boy. This fanfiction is a masterpiece and deserves a read without a doubt. Don't be shy. Go read it. And listen to this playlist when you're done.