#I’ll eventually post the fic for this

[straw-eri-chan]

I love the TimKon clone baby stories where Tim makes this kid and absolutely adores them and raises them until Kon comes back and they’re all happy. Right? But here’s my spin on it.

Tim makes this baby with his and Kon’s DNA. A grief baby. He takes one look and panics, because yeah, that’s his kid and he loves him.

But also, bringing him into the world right now is a terrible idea.

He doesn’t have the time, not with WE, and finding out Bruce might be alive, and taking on more cases and patrol routes. And he definitely isn’t in the right headspace for it. So he just decides to…you know, wait it out a little bit. Come back for his kid when it’s a better time.

He’s in a tube, after all, so he’s safe.

Then Kon finds him.

And Kon is already in love with him. Takes him home. Believes that Tim will be back from his mission soon enough.

He’s not.

By time he finally gets back, is “ready” to be a parent, the kid hates him. Doesn’t consider him his dad.

Tim had unknowingly made the exact same mistake his parents did.

Left.

[blindradiant]

It’s heartbreakingly beautiful that through everything Szeth went through in his life, he never fully let go of the eleven-year-old boy who loved to dance and found free time the most beautiful thing in the world. Even when he got broken and beaten down and ground into a weapon, that boy was still in the deepest parts of him, influencing his emotions and worldview. Even when he was alone and hurting, refusing to believe that he needed help or healing, that boy was inside him, yearning for comfort. And when Kaladin asked Szeth what he wanted and got an honest answer, it was the part of him that still clung to that child that said “I want to stop hurting people. I want to be done.” And when Szeth finally finds peace and a life away from killing and destruction, he can be reunited with that young version of himself again

Don’t mind me. I’m just going to go and cry about this now

[calmlb]

Domestic skk where Dazai gets home later than usual from the agency. It’s not uncommon for him to arrive home after Chuuya when he was working a case, but it definitely wasn’t the norm.

As Dazai slipped off his shoes and coat, he listened for any sounds that may indicate where Chuuya was.

Even though he was pretty sure he already knew.

He padded towards their bedroom and stopped with his hand on the knob. He pressed his ear to the door, listening for familiar, soft snores, but not hearing any.

He quietly slipped into the room, unsurprised to see that the lamp was still on, but not expecting to see Chuuya’s eyes closed.

The redhead was sitting up against the headboard, arms crossed and eyes closed. There was a poetry book on his lap, still open to where he’d been reading.

Dazai felt that fond smile he could never seem to mask play at his lips, and walked closer.

The light of the lamp cast shadows that accentuated the sharp angles of Chuuya’s face. His brown lashes brushed against his strong cheekbones, and a sun-kissed bronze was spread across his upturned nose.

Chuuya was all sharp edges with an unrefined personality. And that’s just how Dazai liked him.

That crudeness that had so grated on his nerves when they first met. That crassness that couldn’t be dulled by nice clothes or Ane-san’s influence.

Chuuya was unapologetically Chuuya— untamable.

Dazai watched as his partner’s brows pinched, and his bow-shaped lips twitched downward before parting.

“What’re you staring at, shitty Dazai?”

Dazai’s smile widened. “Just wondering how long you’re going to keep feigning sleep,” he hummed as he turned away to change into his pajamas.

“Wasn’t sleeping,” Chuuya grumbled, one eye peeking open as Dazai slipped into bed and curled up next to his leg.

Dazai nuzzled into Chuuya’s toned thigh, releasing a contented hum as Chuuya’s hand started carding through his hair.

He felt the rhythmic shift of Chuuya’s body in time with his breathing, and let himself relax knowing he was safe. Secure. Cared for.

Because Chuuya wasn’t all sharp edges. Deep down, there was a layer of kindness to him. Deep enough that it wasn’t immediately apparent.

Deep because it’s part of the foundation of who Chuuya is.

Dazai considers himself one of the lucky ones, getting to witness this kindness firsthand.

Chuuya always waited up for him, no matter how tired he was, or how long of a day he’d had. Some instinct to make sure every member of his pack was accounted for— probably leftover from the sheep.

My loyal dog.

Dazai hid his smile in the fabric of Chuuya’s pajama pants.

“Oi. I can feel you smirking, bastard.” Chuuya stopped his hand to pull on Dazai’s dark waves.

Dazai whined in protest. “Chuuya’s so mean to me.”

Chuuya scoffed, voice rough with the need for sleep. “Right, so mean that I even made you crab for dinner.” He slid down the headboard to lay on his pillow. This way, he was nose to nose with Dazai— hot, toothpaste-fresh breath fanning Dazai’s face and strawberry-blond curls falling into his face. “How awful.”

Dazai lifted a hand to brush the hair out of Chuuya’s eyes, gently tucking it behind his ear. “How awful,” he agreed. “Makes me want to die.”

Those piercing blue eyes stared back at him. “I’ll be the one to kill you. Shitty Dazai.” Chuuya’s threat was punctuated by a long yawn.

Dazai tutted. “Sleepy Chibi.” He grabbed Chuuya’s hand and started massaging soft circles into his palm. Just the way he knew Chuuya loved.

Sure enough, Chuuya let out a content sigh as the last bit of tension seeped out of his body.

“S’nice,” he mumbled as he started drifting off. Dazai merely hummed.

“Such strong hands that carry so much,” he whispered, bringing Chuuya’s knuckles to his face & pressing his lips against them tenderly. “Let me hold this for you.”

Chuuya’s breath evened out, and soft snores filled the space between them. Night after night, that snoring had been Dazai’s white noise, and he bit his lip to restrain the sudden impulse to pinch his partner’s cheeks in an act of cuteness aggression.

Instead, he snuggled up close to the redhead, burying his face in the crook of Chuuya’s neck.

Dazai reached over and turned off the lamp, feeling his heart swell when Chuuya nuzzled his face into Dazai’s hair. He pressed a kiss to his jugular notch, then let the soothing cadence of Chuuya’s snores lull him to sleep.

Dazai version

[iamthetruestrepairman]

see Annie and Troy both had the same sickness of “I base my personality and wants on what other people expect of me” however the difference there is that Troy got someone who accepted him unconditionally and didn’t care if he wasn’t “manly” (straight) enough. I think Annie Deserves an equally peculiar and verging on codependent relationship with her own “girl friend” (cough cough) that she can be equally gay and adorable about. In this essay I will-

[docksidedoner]

i enjoy drawing things that appeal to me and me alone. i like to call this one “estrogen could fix her: the trilogy”

[curufiin]

C&C founders of Nargothrond AU… BULLET FIC FORM

Because I want what Tollers was too much of a coward to write. I don’t have an idea for the au name so any ideas would be lovely

It is the night of what would become the Battle of Sudden Flame.

Celegorm is out patrolling the pass. Not for any good reason, really; he tells Curufin it’s because he can’t sleep. At this point, Curufin knows better than to question him.

Huan follows close behind, and he sniffs along the ground that Celegorm has trod.

He thinks about Aredhel, about the Oath, about what could’ve been. Half of him wishes he had not sworn it. The other half wishes he could rest.

Maybe, he thinks, things would be different had he not been out riding with Caranthir. Maybe he would be away: away from the Oath, away from the Enemy and the siege, away with Aredhel. Maybe he would have killed that Moriquende bastard and be done with it.

He still holds Curufin in contempt for not killing Eöl. They were already kinslayers. One more would not have made a difference.

But he has no more time to think: a dim light shines in the distance.

Then it grows brighter, and brighter, until it is as if a second dawn has come.

He smells it first before he knows what is happening: charred flesh and smoldering bones sting his nostrils and overwhelms him.

By the time he makes it back to Curufin, he is coughing and there are tears in his eyes. “Curvo—”

“What in the Valar’s name is going on?” Curufin does not tarry as he speaks. Celebrimbor is by his side, his face pale. He grabs his swords, and mounts his horse.

Screams are already tearing across the valley where they have stationed troops.

Not nearly enough troops.

“We stay, we fight,” Celegorm says, his hand tightening around the grip of his sword.

Curufin’s horse stomps the ground with unease as he speaks. “We are going to get overrun, Tyelkormo.”

“I will not let our people die defending our lands while we run away like cowards!”

So they stay and they fight. Countless orcs fall, yet countless more surge forth, each growling and spitting, and the deafening sounds of swords clashing fills the air. Huan’s barks and growls rip through the chaos, but it too is drowned out mere moments later.

Eventually, they are overrun.

They flee eastwards, past Himring, past Himlad, through Nan Dungortheb. It is the only way they can turn.

They ride for days, often without food or rest. Each day, Celebrimbor notes that their numbers grow thinner.

Still, they are not safe: foul creatures stalk them in the night, and often they hear what sounds like heavy footfall behind them.

They turn northwards into Dorthonion, hoping to seek refuge with Angrod and Aegnor, and they are only met with more death.

Celegorm commands that they continue eastward.

By then, they are starving and exhausted.

They and their people make camp by Rivil at nightfall. It is the first rest they have in many days, yet even now, it feels as if darkness is pressing in around them, smothering even the brightest of flames.

No rest is granted to Celegorm again.

“I’m going out,” he says, mounting his horse.

“Again?”

Curufin bites down on his lower lip.

“Tyelkormo, you’re going to get yourself killed like this.” He tugs on the edge of his cloak, and pulls it tighter around himself. Celegorm notes just how small his brother looked like this. He should not be here, fighting this war, yet it was he who swore the Oath before anyone else.

He does not answer.

Curufin sighs. “At least— bring your servants. Please. I sense foul beings stalking in the darkness, and my heart warns me that evil shall befall you tonight if you are not careful.

“You’ve always been too cautious, Curvo,” Celegorm says.

“It is my caution which keeps us alive.”

They speak no more. Celegorm obliges.

He brings a small group of his most loyal and most deadly servants, and they head eastwards into the Fen of Serech, their quivers slung over their shoulders and filled with arrows, bows drawn by their sides.

As they draw deeper into the marshes, a peculiar discomfort pulls at Celegorm’s chest. He cannot describe the feeling, other than it is as if they are being watched. Each step they take is far too loud, and he suddenly wishes he had heeded Curufin’s warnings.

It is the silence which deafens him most. There is no wind caressing his face, no animals to bring him their tales. Only the horrid stink of death remains.

His ears twitch at what seems like a step in the water. Then another, and then another, and another until they are surrounded. Huan lowers himself, ears pinned at his sides, and growls.

“That the Fire Elf’s son?” Celegorm hears one of them spit out, and he draws his sword from its sheath.

“It bloody well is.”

“We’ll kill him, yeah? Boss is gonna be real happy with this one. Ain’t this the elf with the dog?”

From his side, a tall Orc emerges, the axe in his hand stained with dried blood, and Celegorm only now perceives that they are entirely surrounded. “What have we here?” The Orc grins— though it is more like a grimace than anything else. “A lost little princeling with his dog. Should you not be cowering with your brothers, son of Fëanor?”

Celegorm’s brows furrow. “Watch your tongue, lest I cut it from your mouth.”

His threat is only met with loud, guttural laughter. “You are in no position to threaten me, princeling. Oh, I am going to have fun cutting you up all nice and pretty. Your dog’s skull will make a fine, fine trophy.”

Celegorm raises his blade, and faces the flat of the blade towards the orc. Though the rays of the moon is all but choked out by dark smoke and clouds, in his eyes burned the unmistakable glimmer of treelight, and the glory of Valinor.

The orc takes a step forward. “What’s this? The little mouse is trying to intimidate me. Tell me, princeling. What do spoiled brats born into royalty know of battle—”

Celegorm lunges forth. His blade slices through the air, cuts through flesh as if it is water. The orc’s words are cut off by gurgles.

Blood fills the air.

The orc chokes, tries to scream, claws at his throat.

He falls.

I am going to die here, Celegorm thinks.

He points his sword at the fallen orc.

“Kill me, if the rest of you think you are so capable—” in a swift motion, his servants draw their swords at once, and the crowds take a step back at the hiss of metal against sheath. “—but heed my words. I am Celegorm, Son of Fëanor, and I have ridden beside the Great Hunter Oromë. Fear his presence through my voice, and feel his fury in my sword! And upon his name this I swear: even if I shall die tonight, I shall die tearing the flesh off your very bones.”

The orcs stop, almost contemplative—

—and then they charge.

Celegorm prepares to draw his final breath.

[osiiiris]

I'm going to take a break from the fandom for a bit.

I really wish I could feel what you all feel, but unfortunately I can’t. Even when I try to refresh my mind and align with everything that’s happening, I keep seeing stuff that drag me back to hopes that I better leave behind.

I hope that the concerts will help me regain some of the enthusiasm for being part of the fandom.

🖤

[hidden-by-a-trench-coat]

I shared this idea on the Discord but thought I’d put it here, too (preemptive angst warning, sorry): Lost In Your Eyes Tarquin time loop fic where he goes back to the start of his journey over and over again any time anyone dies (I imagine the first day he doesn’t believe it. He has dreams like this all the time. But then he gets through one day. And then another. And then realizes that maybe this is real? And after the first loop and first successful save he realizes that maybe there is a chance. Maybe this is his second chance) and finally gets a chance to save everyone…!

…Only to wake up from some kind of coma or something and figure out it’s all fake. He never managed to save anyone. They’ve been dead for years.

I imagine him finally getting onto land and seeing Amanda again. He saves her life by protecting her and falls unconscious - he wakes up in a hospital. He’s drowsy and confused but he asks the first employee he sees about Amanda - only to get a response that they don’t know any Amanda… He is in denial about this the entire time.

Eventually they let him out and he searches for her (and the rest of his crew). She has to be out there somewhere - there has to be some reason no one came to visit him. Maybe they were waiting for him. He saved them, after all.

I imagine he runs into Amanda’s mother, who is not happy to see him, and she tells him that Amanda’s been dead for years and it’s his fault, angry that he would even suggest that she could be alive after all this time and give her false hope, and Tarquin is just devastated.

[alohawhore]

Fics I got percolating (as a preview for those maybe interested but mostly for my own sorting of thoughts)

Actively in progress:

the feel of coolness only water brings - MASH; traphawk; angsty magical realism fic involving selkie lore, finding closure, and lots of weather symbolism

soldier, poet, king (working title) - MASH; houlipiercintyre; canon-divergent high fantasy fic heavily inspired by the chronicles of narnia/dungeons & dragons/etc

how to trap a hawk (working title) - MASH; traphawk; angsty post-canon reconciliation fic with wintertime in crabapple cove, lots of rumination, and what it means to be mentally ill in mid-century America

Ideas that need to be put to paper:

A What Dreams May Come/orpheus tale inspired fic where Hawkeye is Eurydice and both BJ and Trapper are Orpheus

Sci-fi MASH AU where it’s kinda the same but in SPACE

Horror MASH fic of some kind - leaning toward a Malevolent-esque fic where Hawkeye becomes possessed by an entity that steals his sight and good hand, but he keeps the rest of his faculties and no one is (hopefully) the wiser

Time-travel!MASH mostly so I can explore their reaction to the fact the entire exercise in Korea really was pointless and nothing they did resulted in any lasting peace. But also need to see them interact with the Internet. So.

And in the same vein of self-indulgence: a Star Wars/MASH crossover of some kind

[squidthusiast]

What’s your favorite fic by theashemarie? I want to read her stuff, but I’m so intimidated by how much there is!! Where do I start?

OH ANON HOW I’VE BEEN DYING TO ANSWER THIS ONE!!!!

You’ve opened up THE can of worms my good fellow…

I am so sorry for the person i’m about to become

I’ve actually spent the last couple days making a simplified compilation of Ashe’s works, to make it easier for new readers to visualize them.

It’s the reason why it has taken me some time to answer this haha.

As for my favourite fic…. That’s such an insanely hard question to answer T_T

I’ll put the compilation & my thoughts under the cut to minimize dashboard noise.

(Disclaimer: i’m not a writer so some of the terms I use are from my loose understanding of literature!)

Warning for rambling ahead!!

I tried to make the fomatting as straightforward as possible! If there are any other questions you can drop a comment :)

As for the fav fic stuff:

I don’t think I can have a hard singular favourite of Ashe’s fics, because they’re all different and encompass different themes and vibes and ideas, and fuck man they’re just so good. Ashe has a masters degree in writing and it SHOWS, but also just her writing style & way of developing stories.. it’s so captivating, rich and thoughtful. I love analyzing their work & being rewarded with the amount of detail and effort that is put into it.

Here’s a couple that fucked me up particularly good though, if you must know:

LDR AU | Meet Me on the Rink | And Take Off Your Mask | Simulacrum | Language Barrier

At least two of these majorly impacted my life & mean a whole lot to me because of the themes, topics and characterization in them.

I think one of my favourite things about Ashe’s works is how visceral and raw and real they feel while you read ‘em. There’s a real strong focus on the plot, which makes for a fantastic build up throughout the story. There’s also emphasis on characterization, and by the gods it’s deliciously crafted. The direct and indirect ways in which Ashe portrays the personalities, flaws and motivations of characters… MAN.

A lot of people read fics for a quick hit of fluff or angst, so plot-heavy, meaty fics with a lot of undertones and somewhat unconventional themes can be very different from typical expectations.

Still, I stand by the fact that it’s exactly because of this that Ashe’s work is so refreshing and fascinating to read through, and I strongly encourage everyone to give it a try, especially if you like Off the Hook.

She also has a lot of oneshots and shorter stories that I listed above, if longer ones feel daunting. They’re just as good!!

I’m really grateful that they share all of this work online; creating entails a lot of work, whether it be art, writing, cosplay, etc.

Posting it for free on top of that??? I think we need to appreciate our fic writers more, honestly. They’re a huge pillar in fandom spaces that often goes unnoticed.

That’s my little ramble on the topic, thank you for reading if you went this far!

I hope this helps Anon, and if you need more pointers or thoughts you can hit me up again.

With all that said, big shout out to @theashemarie , this is my big propaganda post for you all to follow her and/or check out their work, and leave her a comment if you enjoy the fics!! I know they appreciate them a lot :)

[were-wolverine]

fic idea i will probably write at some point:

when toph goes after zuko after his terrible introduction (hello, zuko here) he still startles and burns her feet but instead of running away he immediately rushes over and starts fussing over her, picking her up and treating her burns

he lays her down on his bedroll and gets his first aid supplies. he’s kind of an expert at dealing with burns. aside from the obvious, he was often burned during his childhood while training to fight with bending. it was why he was so fond of the dao swords, something he was much better at

he doesn’t realize he’s been talking aloud until the girl (does he know her name yet??) pointedly coughs after he trails off. he shakes the thoughts away and warns her the balm he is about to apply will sting at first.

he surprised when she fists a hand in his shirt, hissing in pain as the medicine does its job. he wraps it and moves onto her other foot, repeating the process. once he’s done, she looks in his direction quizzically

“it’s… numb,” she says, surprised. zuko smiles and explains

“it numbs the pain and heals the burn simultaneously. you should feel better in the morning after a good nights sleep, but you should still reapply it so it stays that way, okay?” he asks. she nods and then seems to debate asking something, before speaking

DISCLAIMER i know nothing about medicinal herbs/balms so this is 100% made up

“the others tried to describe you to me when i asked… pretty much all i got was ‘ponytail jerk with a shaved head and a burn on his face’ and obviously that’s not really a great description…” she trails off. zuko laughs softly

“if it makes you feel better, the ponytail is long gone. my hair is long enough to mostly cover the burn, too…” he replies

she nods thoughtfully before hesitantly lifting her hand towards his face, stopping a few inches away.

“um… you can say no, of course. but if it’s okay, can i touch your face? it’s how i see people,” she explains quietly. zuko flinches back slightly before thinking about it. her hands are so… small. and she hasn’t hurt him (yet).

the last person who touched his face was Uncle, helping zuko apply the burn salve after a bad day (the scar tended to hurt more if he was upset or angry… which was often). he had been so careful, it made zuko feel cherished.

he lets out a breath and agrees

the grin he receives is probably worth his discomfort

he closes his eyes and feels her small hands trace his face. she hums to herself as she maps it out in her head. zuko can feel calluses, likely from her earthbending, and laughs when she runs a hand through his hair, whispering “just checking”

they both quiet once she’s explored his entire face aside from the scar. she seems hesitant, so zuko nods slightly, reassuring her.

he cant really feel the hand tracing his burn. that area has been numb since his father…

he’s used to it. her hand on the other side of his face, keeping his head steady, is grounding and he releases some of the tension that had built in his shoulders when she traced the edge of the scar

she lets out a tiny gasp, and zuko can feel hair being pulled back from his ear- or what’s left of it. the burn had reached the appendage and a bit of his scalp. luckily his long hair was able to easily cover it. thinking back on his days wearing the symbol of the banished, having the entire thing exposed, makes him feel sick.

she finally drops her hands and when zuko opens his eyes (when had he gotten teary?) she’s sitting back across from him.

they sit in thoughtful silence for a while before toph snaps her fingers in recognition

“oh yeah, are your eyes really gold?” she asks

zuko finds it odd that the group had even noticed his eye color, but confirms her question

“cool,” she grins and zuko can’t help but smile back. she eventually scoots over on the bed roll and demands zuko sit next to her (and who is he to say no?)

they spend the next couple of hours talking. zuko finds out toph also comes from high society, and they bond over the stupid rules they were forced to learn and such.

toph doesn’t ask how he got the scar, but she does ask about it.

“can you hear at all in this ear? and are you able to see with this eye?”

he allows her these questions because she’s one of the only people who can understand what it’s like

“not very well, but enough to get by. as for my eye… it’s mostly blurry and i can’t open it past a squint. honestly, everyone was surprised it hadn’t lost all function,” he explains

she studies him thoughtfully before replying

“is that why you have two swords?”

zuko blinks. he hadn’t ever actually thought of it like that, since he was already using them before getting banished. but it makes sense. he shrugs

“maybe subconsciously?” he says, and she laughs at his uncertainty. he can’t help but smile at the sound

[the-rat-k-ing]

he got arrested 😔

[yepmadness]

Yeah so. I gave into the urges. I’ve never felt the need to write fanfic. Ever. But here I am I guess.

I wrote this at midnight soooo, who knows how this is. Just wanted to write John thoughts because he’s my guy—so have this short little piece that I hope other people can enjoy too :)

Fic under the cut: 1.8k words.

The memory of Arthur’s silence will remain more prettifying than his agony, but that doesn’t mean that his pain … his terror as the light and awareness left his eyes—their eyes—is what John was hoping to hear.

He doesn’t know what he was hoping for. Relief? A gasping thank you? Pride in saving him? Would it be foolish to wish that the talisman fixed everything? That he would just be okay? Perhaps it is. He thinks it is. He was never going to have that. It would be unreasonable to think he would get any of that, but any joy of him living, of John fixing this, was ripped away when Arthur opened his mouth. All John wanted was a sound. A single noise, a response, any response to prove the talisman worked. He got that. He should be happy that he got that.

But he isn’t.

And Arthur is silent again.

And the world is dark—but not as dark as it could be.

John does not know what to consider if Arthur didn’t end up in the dark world … when he died. That place was the last thing he wanted for Arthur, and yet, it was always treated as a last resort. Of a sort. Between them, spoken only aloud by Arthur, so long ago now. A place they would end up together in—if they failed. It was not a future he ever wanted, but it was a possibility, even if it was one he despised the thought of. But now he knows that if Arthur dies he does not follow, instead he is left here to deal with the repercussions. To play the marker for lifeless remains, having to have witnessed, and experienced death without a choice. What if there is no place meant for them? Past all of this. He can’t exactly bury Arthur himself, if it came to it, he wouldn’t let him stay dead after all. Graves are a place of permanency, one they do not deserve, because they can be forgotten. Especially here. But John would never forget. He would never abandon him like that.

He would find a way, like today. They are stuck in this together. They both have to make their own path through this, together.

Except his body is no longer a weighted grave for them both, a tomb he would never dare leave, it is breathing. Arthur is alive—and so they are both alive, whatever that may entail. He is tentatively okay. Arthur, is okay. As okay as he can be, as they both can be. What matters is that he is alive—what matters now is keeping him alive.

John has almost lost Arthur more than once, twice, more than three times, and he wasn’t always there to fix it but he has tried to be. He often was. Every moment where Arthur falls, where he becomes immobile and lost to John, he feels himself succumb to a fragility accustomed to human bodies. Accustom to loss and fear. It’s horribly quiet without him. Even so, he saves him, he saves them both—because Arthur trusts him, and he trusts Arthur. He loves Arthur, and he is going to tell him that. He has to tell him that. Even if they both know it, to an extent. This can’t happen again without John making sure he knows it.

But this is never going to happen again.

Because Arthur died this time, and he almost lost everything. John felt the cold stone visage that he left in his absence. There was nothing here without Arthur, more so than just the lack of connection to their body, but the emptiness was staggering. He was alone. Completely and wholly alone in a space meant for two.

He hadn't felt terror like that since Arthur slit his throat before the King—but this was worse. They’ve grown … so much—and John wasn’t there to see the aftermath of his actions back then. This, he was aware of, in every aching moment of uncertainty. This could have been prevented, couldn’t it? They didn't need to go after the talisman, but they did, and John didn’t see her—not until it was too late. It was his words that made her kill him—an appeal made to the wrong person. Arthur wouldn’t have died if made the right decisions. But he always seems to make the wrong ones, no matter how hard he tries, that he and Arthur have in common.

But Arthur is alive again, so why does it still feel like he is grieving?

Arthur wouldn’t have gotten hurt, wouldn’t have died, if John wasn’t here. But John wouldn’t be here, who he is now, without Arthur. Perhaps that would be more demoralizing if Arthur hasn’t so vehemently stated that he doesn’t want to be rid of John, that they are in this together, until they both get what they want … no matter what that may be. Perhaps that is just happiness, in the end, no matter what it looks like. From one harrowing experience to the next, until they may finally rest. Arthur wants him here, in spite of all the pain it causes, and will continue to cause. Because Arthur is his friend, and more than that, but he is his friend.

Arthur might even be … pleased with his actions. That he has found himself, both with him, and all that he has learned for himself. That he knows who he is, in truth, after everything.

Even if he knows who he is now, who he wants to be, who he will always be—he knows he will want Arthur there too. Arthur who has been there for all his mistakes, his achievements, their joy and sorrow. Arthur deserved to be here for this too, but he wasn’t, and maybe that was the push he needed. He used to defend so much of himself to Arthur, expectation after expectation, misstep after misstep. But Arthur also gave him hope, the sanctity of trust, showed him love and sacrifice, and remained alongside him even when that trust was broken. Even if some mistakes can’t be forgiven … They let them rest. Arthur lets it rest, so they can move on, so they can grow.

Is it so wrong to become … whole without him there to witness it? Or is that how it was always meant to be. To be entirely his own, must he first be alone?

He hopes not, it is a terribly bleak thought, besides it can’t be. Not in every single world, even if Kayne said he … doesn’t change much. There must be some place where there is more joy to be held in his ownership of self. A better circumstance that does not lace his pride in one of their darkest moments. In his choosing of hope. In his choosing of Arthur. One that doesn’t extend off of a devastating fear, off of death. He doesn’t know if he would wish to change this, he would have—if Arthur was truly gone—but he isn’t, so he will just have to see how this plays out.

He is going to share everything he said—everything he did, with Arthur. Because he deserves to be a part of it. Because they do this, all of this, together. Because he wouldn’t be here without him. Because together they are whole of two, just like he said, just like he will say.

It’s not as if he will ever fit into the messy expectations of what it means to be human, per say, but he doesn’t need to. All he needs is to perceive himself as what he wants to be—and Arthur’s perception helps to, even if he doesn’t always meet that. Humanity will be whatever he wants it to be. However he defines it to be. A neutral point, in it all. For he is not a piece to be slotted away, but a piece to be shelved along the masses, every individual part given a space of its own, and it is a space he deserves. A space he had long since earned.

A space they both deserve, to play their own key.

Because Arthur is alive—and so is he, in every sense of the word.

He’d panicked, when Arthur lost consciousness again, for a second he thought he had lost him once more. John had been so ready to reach for the talisman for a second time—for he wasn’t going to allow Arthur to leave, not yet, not ever. But he was breathing, albeit raggedly, but he was. John was going to keep his promises, he had to. He was going to take care of this, of him, and they were both going to be okay. Just like the times before this, and everytime that may come after, because Arthur isn’t going to die.

They’re going to get their happy ending, despite what she said, one where Arthur does not end up as a corpse.

An ending where they both know want they want, what they deserve, who they are.

Moving Arthur to the witch’s bed was difficult, to say the least, without exasperating the wound and the subpar stitching ... even if it has improved. John won’t allow it to get any worse—and Yorrick keeps telling him it’s survivable, or that he is more likely to survive anyway. Even so, John periodically checks to make sure Arthur is still breathing, that his heart is still beating.

Arthur is alive. He will stay alive.

He should stop worrying, Yorrick keeps spouting that he is arguably fine. He should stop.

But the reality is that he can’t, and he doubts will for a long while to come.

He is intimately aware of every minuscule movement Arthur makes, of every second of awareness he gains, and he coaxes him back to the present through all of it. A melody of promises, of reaffirming how he feels, telling Arthur everything over and over and over. It doesn’t matter if he is aware of what he says, if he hears him at all, John will repeat his words for as long as they are needed.

John never lets him arrive to the dread of waking up alone, speaking as soon as he stirs and recognition strike, each and every time. They are never going to be alone again, severed or separated, and John tells him that. Because they are whole together.

And eventually, when Arthur finds his speech, a gentle—hoarse voice long since worn by constant yelling born from the suffering of the waking. He repeats back everything John has been telling him through the suffering of uncertainty, of recovery and knowing and fear.

Arthur moves, ever so slightly, before John can protest—and he brushes his hand, John’s hand. It is a little thing, but it is such a stark constant to the stillness he had before. After the pain of it all, this is a relief, a reprieve. Arthur is alive and John can tell he’s weakly smiling, even if that is not something he can see, when he speaks up for the first time in hours.

John isn’t surprised by what he hears, he already knew, after all. They’ve both said it before. But John it is nice to hear regardless, because together, they are whole. A comfort to both him and Arthur both. He does not want to live, to experience life as it was shown to him, without him. He wouldn’t have gotten here without him. Together they are whole. Both their own wills, colliding, and depending on each other. Made by each other.

Arthur is alive.

Arthur is alive and he breaks the one sided silence by saying, “I love you too.”

Perhaps that, for now, is enough.

[honeyteastar]

The Heishin mer au! Info dump part one!

Includes the beginning of this au smirks

Later on when I do write part 2 (which ig includes the separation arc then omgies reunion </3) which is current events! But at the end you do get a taste of part 2 ish! But like I said will go more in depth. On top of that I will do another post ig talking about more on the seafolks n etc.

Shinichi and Heiji actually meet when they are both children and spend with each other for a whole month together. How they meet is when kid heiji had a scuffle with his dad so he wanted to get out of the house so he kinda grabbed a few of his things and left because he just don’t want to be in the same premises so he just wonders about until he reaches to a beach which is the farthest away until he finds yknow entrances to secluded era. Which funny enough that’s where shinichi is.

Shinichi was technically left there from his parents because the Kudos wanted to wonder and got tired of being in the ocean traveling around and never staying in one place. So shinichi is kinda used to them traveling around the ocean until they stop at cove. Which he thinks oh we are taking a break from the constant traveling. Until his parents tells him to say here until they come back! Which isn’t the first time they left shinichi alone, they go for a few hours then they’ll come back. Unfortunately for shinichi his parents didn’t came back because they left to travel on land. Until the first day during the late hours of the night that shinichi realized they are not coming back so he stays where they left him thinking they’ll come back to him and just continue what they do… He kinda scraping by because he knows how to hunt but is more left to his parents. That’s until he sees a creature? No that can’t be right…probably a kid like him but in two legs and just going about like his frustrations and crying while at it.

Heiji kinda tired himself out so he’s just head in his knees not really focus on his surroundings at the moment so he’s not seeing shinichi dragging himself out of water then tru sand to him. When he feels someone is like watching him, he raises his head but funny enough shinichi was super close to heiji so they kinda bump faces. So they both go oweww…then shock because alone to a space for burst of emotions then the next second of legit in front of you is a creature of the sea just cladding your face, which his palms are super soft, caressing for comfort and some low chirping? because you dumped faces is kinda crazy for afternoon. Minus the insane emotional breakdown you had a while ago with still tear marks on you but wow! Vs shinichi interest in the kid in front of him like woagh…pretty eyes….and 100% feeling his life source via his palms and trying to comfort him because he saw Heiji very distressed sooo shinichi copying what his mom does to him when his upset.

So funny enough they try to communicate but sadly there’s a language barrier between them because the mermaids have their own language going on while on land has its own. Shinichi does know a few words but not a lot because the Kudos didn’t really teach him (when they know a lot about it) they would until he was ready to shift into yknow “having two legs and looks human passing” so they can all travel together but sadly didn’t happen but we get omgies teaching each other language and heiji brings books to shinichi so he doesn’t get bored, this where shinichi fascination starts and becomes a bookworm, obviously he likes mystery books n etc. He also brings stuff to makeshift a tent and other things! Bc Heiji does sometimes sleeps at the place with shinichi! Gets to a point they cuddle/sleep together under the tent. heiji does start a routine with shinichi to like see him everyday and etc. There’s a time Heiji didn’t came to visit Shinichi because he was introduced to Kazuha bc his parents kinda noticed that Heiji would come very late or even in the next day so thought needed like a friend because they legitimately didn’t know where so talks here and there so evil meet up. Heiji didn’t like the idea at first bc he does have shinichi but he can’t do a lot of stuff with him because he’s stuck at the cove. So funny enough kazuha and Heiji goes along well but unfortunately shinichi kinda having the doubts about Heiji never coming back like his parents but this didn’t last long, Heiji did appear and shinichi kinda burst emotionally because the friend up to perhaps crush abandoned again but is fine!! Heiji was like what I’ll never abandon you ever. I just was making a new friend and I can’t really take her here. Kazuha does get the shinichi this and shinichi that but never seen this other kid that Heiji talks about a lot.

There is another scene that a festival does happen in Heiji’s town, he does mention to shinichi and that he would love to take him with him but he doesn’t know how but is fine! He’ll spend the time with shinichi! Shinichi kinda doesn’t want to see Heiji sad/disappointed so he kinda focuses hard to shift/removing his pelt which he kinda succeeds but not fully (you can see his ears, hands, teeth and a few markings that didn’t fully shift into human) which to surprise Heiji which he did and was like blinks and stares we can go! But let me get you something… so YAYYY they go out and is the best time shinichi ever had and they have holding hands all the time because shinichi the fear of loosing Heiji but Heiji is like just hold my hand! So we don’t get separated(like otters and while holding hands all the time shinichi feels very safe and comfortable because he can feel Heiji life source moment so he having the best time of his life) Funny enough Kazuha does meet shinichi and likewise but shinichi kinda shy away but they had fun!

Gets to a point where shinichi actually likes likes Heiji to where he gives his special gem aka a proposal gem that you give to your mate, mind you Heiji doesn’t know this he knows that’s is important and he’ll keep it until he dies BUT Heiji likes likes shinichi too!!! was gonna tell him that <- already proposed to fiancé in a sense because he did accept shinichi’s gem! Then heh this where I rip you apart they get separated because the kudos comes back to get shinichi and leave the place. Shinichi was very reluctant to leave but he left without saying goodbye to Heiji. Heiji comes to see shinichi and tell him something important but when he got there he wasn’t there and he checked the only thing he has from shinichi is the gem he has and shall treasure it until they meet again. Which they both forget each other! Heiji only thing to remember is the gem while shinichi remembers vividly his eyes, the festival date and the cove he stayed.

Shinichi when he gets older he goes to port to port, town to town just to read all the books in the bookstore and to remember that night (aside from Heiji eyes he vividly remembers the festival he spent and the cove) so he ask around n stuff after he’s done he disappears to leave for the next town funny enough the time the lands on heijis port town he kinda remembers the street n stuff and ask the question and get a yeah we do celebrate said festival n stuff and ironically enough he gets a glimpse of Heiji in the crowd bc that person looks very familiar moment to he trails after Heiji (even when Heiji leaves with a small vessel from his town shinichi follows him and that’s how shinichi legit saves Heiji instantly)

[rangersoup]

I’ve decided. Turn and Burn (the Carlos horse girl fic) is gonna get a rewrite/revamp once I’m done with The Lone Ranger. It’s gonna be the second installment of my Rangers spinoff fic. It will be both a direct continuation of the Lone Ranger and set up for some other stuff on down the line.

[maidenofcrows]

So I’m working on a plotless kanej one shot (that I may or may not finish), and I kinda like this little bit that I’m gonna share with y’all:

… After barely a moment of silence, he laughed. A soft, gentle laugh. The kind that she knew was meant just for her. She’d heard of the Kerch keeping something of their lover’s likeness inside pieces of jewelry. A lock of hair, a penny portrait made by a street vendor, a hand-written note folded on a tiny slip of paper. She thought she would rather store his laugh in one of these lockets and keep it close to her heart always.

Because bottling the other’s laugh and getting drunk on it every night has already been used, I needed to get creative with what Inej thinks of Kaz’s laugh XD I dunno, I just think they’re cute <3

Edit: I did, in fact, finish the thing