#and i hope he gets poison oak up his ass

[xxsp3llb0undxx]

The Cove

Seth Clearwater x GN Siren!Reader {1.6k+}

Requested - @siriusblacksgf

DO NOT POST MY WORK TO OTHER SITES OR CLAIM AS YOUR OWN. I DO NOT OWN THE CHARACTERS OF TWILIGHT.

Summary: Seth defies his Alpha's orders and decides to take a trip to the side of the forest he has never visited, only to be met with a place he never knew existed.

WARNINGS: TWILIGHT AU // MYTHICAL CREATURES // NOT PROOF READ.

Deep, down inside Forks Washington was a forest few had ever seen, there lived two clans apart of the supernatural world. The shifters and Vampires had lived opposite each other for quite sometime now, only a river stream separating them. They knew the other existed but what they didn't know, was somewhere deeper and darker into the forest was a cove, it was magical yet some would also describe it as melancholic, like the air was poisoned with the utmost poignancy. Within that cove, was icy water that looked like it went down into the deepest, darkest abyss. One fateful soul was crazy enough to be enticed by the lack of knowledge he had of this part of Forks, so on a fateful Tuesday night, Seth had strayed away from his pack; Sam howled out to the young wolf hoping he would respond and make his way back to the rest of the shifters but his call was never answered.

Seth Clearwater, the youngest of Harry Clearwater's two children, had come up with the bright idea of walking along the treaty line to the edge of the forest, he was always warned by Paul and Sam to never ever cross pass this specific area - there's something out there that hunts our kind - was something Sam kept telling the young boy, trying to get it into his head but of course - Seth needed to see for himself. Every step he took, dead branches from the once lively trees had crunched under his shoes The young boy was scared, of course he was but he kept reminding himself that he was one of few that possessed the gift of shapeshifting into a big ass wolf. The further he ventured, the more the temperature started to drop but that wasn't the issue, the fog had appeared out of nowhere; a thick layer had covered the ground beneath his feet, absorbing everything in its wake - including Seth's legs.

The rustling of leaves and broken twigs crunching had stirred the creature awake, they had been laying on a ledge beside the water. Their fin now swishing from side to side in the pool below, the mist rising above now sitting just atop the water, batting droplets around the small cove. The creature had pushed themself back into the inlet, their body now covered by the murky air around. The trees whispered all around, gossiping to their fellows about the unwanted guest in their midst. The creature was on high alert, they knew of the other supernatural beings that resided within the gloomy town; they had even befriend some of those that lived within her area of the forest - they were mostly just imps that had inhabited the trees high above and one of the last Kelpie's that were still around, they protected Forks forest and the people who lived peacefully in the small rainy state.

The smell of oak wood and wet logs had filled the air around the cove, he was near. Out of instinct, the fish like creature had honed in on their powers and started singing - it was hauntingly beautiful. Seth had heard the quiet melody not too far from his spot near a creek. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end, the wolf within him on high alert but all his wolfy instincts went out the window when the singing started to get louder - his whole body feeling like it was no longer in his control, his feet having a mind of their own as they took slow steps towards a cave like system in the distance. Seth had followed the creek all the way to the secluded cove, the atmosphere growing more eerie with every step he took. As the singing grew louder, the sky had darkened - trees thrashed around with the heavy winds, a storm was incoming but that wasn't what was unusual, the wailing in the distance was the issue; the sound itself was distorted; like something out of an old horror movie. The wailing had come to a stop when Seth had come face to face with a black horse like creature stood outside the opening of the cove, it's mane was soaked with water; small pieces of moss and tree bark were littered across it's body in a form of camouflage, it was nothing Seth had ever seen.

The black horse had let out a low whine, a signal to whoever was near to let them know the trespasser was found. Ripples in the creek below had formed, something was in the water and Seth was sure he was about to meet his end. Everything in the forest had stilled, the once full of life woods had died down and become silent - enough to hear a pin drop. The young shapeshifter still had his eyes trained on the horse in front of him, it's eyes narrowed at the young boy's figure - a snarl evident on it's face. Before either supernatural could do anything, a body had surfaced from under the murky water. A black fin with yellow and purple flecks had swept under the poor boys feet causing him to fall to the ground. Seth was now eye level with the water creature, they were ethereal to say the least. Their hair was long and wet, skin pale with a blue tint but what caught Seth's eye was their hands - the creature had webbed finger with long pointy nails as black as onyx. "Holy shit.. it's a mermaid. Oh my god it's a freaking mermaid." The young wolf stared at the water person in awe, his eyes blown with wonderment. The creature hissed at him, small razor like teeth gleaming under the moonlight. "I. Am. Not. A. Mermaid." Their voice was velvety, almost intoxicating.

Seth had flinched at the creatures words, he never meant to insult them, he was merely just curious as to how these beings lived in the same forest as him. Seth had squeaked out a tiny "sorry", fearful if he spoke any louder he would offend them even more. The creature glided through the water, closing the distance between the pair. Their long pale arms now crossed and lay upon the edge of the creek, their chin laying gently on the supple flesh. "I'm sorry... I just hate how everyone sees me as a mermaid and not what I really am. I'm Y/n and I'm a siren." Y/n's voice was more cautious now, scared they would make the boy run off. "Why are you here? This is not a place for those outside of the supernatural realm to be, you should go home it's not safe." Seth cocked his head to the side, completely forgetting he wasn't in his wolf form. The boy stood up and took a few deep breaths, focusing on the beating of his heart and then he just shifted. A sandy coloured wolf now stood on all fours in front of the siren, it was now their turn to stare in awe - their eyes wide as a smile grew on their face. "You're a shapeshifter... of course you are, I've seen many just like you." The siren lifted their hand in an attempt to touch the soft fur of the wolf but the shifter had backed away every so slightly.

The siren didn't mind the young wolf's hesitation, they understood how terrifying it was for them to meet another supernatural for the first time. But the black horse, who Seth found out was a Kelpie and was named Oslo, had other feelings about the boy. He didn't particularly like him, not because he was a shifter - no, it was because he had caught the siren's attention. Oslo hated not having Y/n's attention all to himself, he loathed anyone that even looked the siren's way. So, the wise Kelpie had gotten up close to Seth; their snouts barely touching, and then Oslo had attacked him; it had all happened in seconds. The siren had screamed in horror, tears brimming the edges of their eyes as they stared at her new found mystical friend and her protector trying to sink their teeth into one another. The siren had shouted for Oslo to stop but he had ignored all of their protests, and instead decided to use the trick up his sleeve. Now, you may be think - what could Oslo do that would surprise Seth? Well, Kelpie's are known to be water creatures who can shapeshift into any form they desire but they also possess the ability to manipulate water.

So, Oslo being extremely cunning, he had shifted into a water spirit. Y/n knew that trying to manipulate the elements would ultimately turn into something very, very bad. The siren had devised a plan to help Seth to the best of their abilities, so they screamed as loud as they could. Siren's are known to have powerful voices, they could seduce anyone they wanted but what no one knew was Siren's could harm Kelpie's by just using their voice. The scream that erupted out of the siren had caused Oslo to shift back into his natural form, his body now crumpled to the ground withering in pain. "You do not hurt him, we are the protectors of everything supernatural. Your jealousy does not give you the right to hurt one of our own." Malice had dripped from every word spoken, it sent a shiver down Seth's spine without a warning. The siren turned to the shifter, an apologetic smile on their face "I'm sorry on his behalf." They said, pointing to the Kelpie still curled up on the floor "It's best if you go home, your pack must be worried about you." Seth could only nod his head - he didn't want to go just yet, there was still so much to see and learn about this part of the forest but most importantly, he wanted to know Y/n better.

If only the young wolf could actually verbalise his thoughts.

[scarisd3ad]

To the end and back | Daryl Dixon x reader

Chapter eight - this love

Previous >> next

Masterlist

Taglist

Summary - after the world ended you were sure you’d never find love again but a certain archer catches your eyes and changes the entire trajectory of your life.

Warnings - regular twd warnings

'Save the last one.'

Season 2 ep 3

Glenn and t-dog are about to leave. T-dog is already in the car waiting for Glenn. Glenn is saying his goodbyes like he's about to die, even though we're probably going to see him tomorrow. "You sure you want to stay?" Glenn asks as he wraps his arms around me in a hug. I nod. I'm still hesitant about staying but Daryl said he'll protect me. "Make sure carl is alright for me" I whisper. I still want to go just to make sure carls okay. Ever since I found out Carl was hurt, I couldn't stop worrying. I want to go and find out if he was alright, but I also wanted to find Sophia. I was stuck between and rock and a hard place. Both kids were in trouble and couldn't find it in me to pick between the two. "Love you" Glenn whispers as I pull away "love you too I'll see you later."

-

Glenn, and t-dog left a few hours back leaving us just with the rv to sleep in. The rv was tiny and three people alone made me feel claustrophobic so I choose to sit up on the rv's roof with Dale.

"So, what made you decide to change your mind?" He asks. He's stood up with his binoculars keeping an eye out while I'm sitting on the edge. "Daryl" I whisper.

"Ah, are you two like..." he trails off as I shrug. "I dunno, I really like him though" I say as I fidget with my fingers in my lap. There's nothing but cars for miles. Nothing, not one Walker, or a person. Just cars.

"If you really like him, you should ask him about it" he says.

I can hear carols cries from inside the rv. I can't help but think I was being too harsh earlier. Her child did just go missing. "Dale" I whisper, "hm?" He hums. "Do you think I was being too mean earlier...y'know with Carol." I ask as I turn my head back so I can see him. He shakes his head "no you were being logical that's all."

The rv door opens and then closes. We both look down to see both Andrea, and Daryl coming out. They're both holding flashlights, and Daryl has his crossbow.

"I'm going for a walk. Shine some light in the forest. If she's out there, give her something to look at. You wanna come with me sugar?" He says looking up at me. I nod shyly, the nickname making me flustered "yeah sure" I whisper as he helps me off of the roof. "You think that's a good idea right now?" Dale asks. "Dale" Andrea warns before walking past Daryl and I. We follow after her, Daryl's hand still holding mine tightly. He doesn't let go until we get closer to the forest.

"You really think we're gonna find Sophia?" Andrea asks. Daryl turns his head towards Andrea and shakes it. He scoffs "you got that look on your face same as everybody else. What the hell's wrong with you people? We just started lookin'" Andrea turns her head towards Daryl and asks "well, do you?" He scoffs again. She's a smart girl, just because she's little doesn't mean she's not going to be found alive. "It ain't the mountains of Tibet it's Georgia. She could be holed up in a farmhouse somewhere. People get lost and they survive. It happens all the time."

"She's only twelve" Andrea says. I stuff both my hands in my jacket pockets. it's cold. If my estimation is correct, it's November, so the weather isn't far off.

"She's a smart girl" I whisper. "That doesn't make a difference she's still twelve" replies Andrea. "Hell, I was younger than her and I got lost. Nine days in the woods eating berries, wiping my ass with poison oak." Daryl has a point he may have been younger than that, hell I got lost in the woods behind my grandfather's farm several times, but we didn't have to survive with walkers all around us. I'm just hoping and praying Sophia paid attention to at least one bit of the survival skills Shane tried teaching Sophia, carl, and Morales's children.

"They found you?" Andrea asks "my old man was off on a bender with some waitress. Merle was doin' another stint in juvie. Didn't even know I was gone. I made my way back though. Went straight into the kitchen and made myself a sandwich. No worse for wear. Except my ass itched something awful." Both Andrea and I let out quiet laughs. "that's disgusting" i mutter "I'm sorry." Andrea says trying to hide another laugh "I'm sorry, that is a terrible story." Andrea says but ends up laughing again. "Only difference is Sophia's got people lookin' for her. I call that an advantage."

"Yeah, but you didn't have the risk of getting bitten by a Walker" I whisper. Daryl nods "you're right I didn't." We continue walking until we hear a bush rustle. We all jump back a bit. Daryl pushed me behind him as he pulls his crossbow off of his shoulder, and ready to shoot. Daryl continues into the forest keeping Andrea, and I behind him. We continue through towards the rustling until we come across a little campsite with a Walker hung from a tree.

"What the hell?" Daryl mutters. There's a note pinned to the tree. The Walker is thrashing around, trying to get out of the noose it's hung from. "Got bit. Fever hit. World gone to shit. Might as well quit" Daryl reads aloud. "Dumbass didn't know enough to shoot himself in the head. Turned himself into a big swinging piece of bait. And a mess."

Andrea covers her nose as she bends over placing both hands on her knees "you alrigh'?" Daryl asks. "Trying not to puke" Andrea replies through coughs and gags "go ahead of you gotta." The Walker does stink. I don't think I will ever get over how terrible a Walker smells. I cover my face with the top of my shirt. It barely even masks the smell. "No, I'm fine. Let's just talk about something else for a minute. How'd you learn to shoot?" She asks. Daryl simply responds with "gotta eat."

"That's one thing these walkers and us have in common. I guess it's the closest he's been to food since he turned hangin' up there like a big piñata" the walker is sticking its arms out and thrashing around trying to get to us. Its legs are practically gone, well at least the meat is only leaving its tibia and fibula bones left. "The other geeks came and ate all the flesh off his legs." Andrea vomits, maybe it was because of Daryl's comment mixed with the smell of the Walker cause now I feel like I'm going to puke. "I thought we were changing the subject" she says as she coughs. "Call that payback for laughing about my itchy ass."

"There wasn't a lot that came up" Andrea says through heaving breathing. "Hm, let's head back" Daryl says as he turns around and begins walking back the way we came. "Aren't you gonna..." Daryl looks up at the walker and shakes his head "no. He ain't hurtin' nobody. Ain't gonna waste an arrow either. He made his choice. He opted out. Let him hang" Daryl says as the Walker continues to groan, gasp, and thrash around. Andrea continues to walk towards the Walker. She stares up at it, pointing her flashlight up at it. Daryl walks over to her. I stay near the tent. Hoping and praying there's nothing inside that'll grab me. Their conversation is hushed but at the end of it daryl shoots the Walker before we start our walk back towards the highway.

When we arrive back at the rv Dale is down off of the roof. "Andrea. Wait." He says as Daryl and I walk into the rv. The door closes and Dale and Andrea stay outside.

"Come on ya needa go to sleep" Daryl says as I take a seat at the table. I shake my head. I haven't been actually able to sleep more than a few hours in days. Maybe it's the stress, or it's sleeping in cars. "Can't" I whisper. He sighs "just C'mere" he says as he sits down on the pallet of blankets, he's laid down on the floor of the rv for himself. I hesitantly get up and walk over to him. He gestures for me to lay down next to him and I do. He wraps his arms around my body pulling me closer. He's warm, so warm, and comforting. Human touch was comforting. His arms wrapped around me, and his chin resting against the top of my head. The warmth that emitted off of his body was better than any blanket.

I'm getting too attached, I know that. I'm falling in love. I can't do that, definitely not now. either of us could die any day now. it's just not right. but it's just so hard not to, I've never felt like this before. I don't even know what we are! I really like him, and he told me he liked me at the CDC, but did he like me enough to consider me his girlfriend? I definitely liked him a lot, but did he like me that much. did he just like me in a sexual matter? did he just want someone to hug and kiss? these times were really lonely, even with the group around, I guess I still longed for normalcy. a normal life, with normal friend, and a normal house. I really wanted that not people I'm forced to live with, not being forced to sleep in tents and cars. maybe he wanted that too, maybe I'm overreading the relationship. maybe I'm overreacting.

I fell asleep fast though, maybe it was the warmth, maybe it's because I feel safe, like actually safe. I've noticed that I've felt safer around Daryl ever since we came back from the city. I feel less tense around him, like I can actually relax and not worry. I know I'm safe around him, I know he'll protect me. I've never felt safer than I am right now, with his arms wrapped around me, his chin pressed against the top of my head, his heartbeat, his thumb rubbing small circles against my back.

i need to talk to him. I'll kill myself with anxiety if I don't. I need to know what we are, i need to know if he likes me just as much as I like him. I need to know.

Previous >> next

Taglist

@e1d0lonk3k @soul4death @furiousheartpoetry @silicone-bonez @nezukos-number1fan @your-shifting-gurl @maziejay08 @oi-itse

[doctorbrown]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 17 / 31 * DAVE'S NIGHT OFF 」

March 3, 1986, Twin Pines Timeline(β)

Five months since Marty’s sudden disappearance. 

Linda doesn’t even have to pretend she doesn’t know exactly where she’ll find Dave when he’s not at home. If he’s not working, busting his ass taking whatever job that pays so he can keep funnelling it into the supplies to stock this cursed garage, he’s hunched over on the couch, buried up to his brain in papers that may as well be written in Greek for all he can read them. 

It’s the same place he spends most of his free time these days; surrounded by ghosts and a couple of Mom’s swiped bottles of vodka.

Not like she notices when a couple of them go missing. 

Dave once said he could hear Marty in here. Like he was still alive. Still here, because Marty’s not dead. He’s somewhere, God-only-knows, but he’s not dead because they only found one body in that parking lot and Marty had to be there because he was Doctor Brown’s fucking shadow—but since Marty’s body wasn’t there, just that truck and that poor dog—Einstein or Edison or whatever; some dead scientist—lying next to the body, according to the cops, that meant someone must have kidnapped him.

They're faint echoes, Linda, he'd said, three-quarters deep into a bottle, but he sounds happy.  

It sounds like bullshit, but it's far more than anything they have at the moment.

And it means, regardless of however tightly she has to wring her own heart to get even a single drop of hope out of it, there's a chance Marty is still alive. 

“How long have you been here today?” Dave pretends not to hear her. Or maybe he wilfully ignores her. Once, she knew how to tell. “Dave, face it. T—”  

“Shut the fuck up, Linda,” Dave snaps, and it takes every ounce of her resolve not to march up to him and slap him in the face for that. 

It’s grief that made him an asshole. It isn’t him. It has a way of burrowing into the deepest, most vulnerable parts of a person and poisoning them from the inside out until they were but shadows of their former selves. 

It’s already hollowed her out, stuffed her full of ice and made a cold, heartless bitch out of her until she was numb to the world. She figured that out when her mother’s broken sobs didn't spear her through the heart like they used to. As if it was her fault.

Why weren't you nicer to him that night?

That shouldn’t be an excuse. But she lets it be for Dave’s sake, and her own, because maybe, as fucking crazy as it sounds, they’ll just find that one in a million breakthrough scattered in the ramblings of a dead man. 

Who apparently claims he learned to leap through time. 

Some good that did him if it was true. He’s buried in Oak Park Cemetery, looking like Swiss cheese. Wasn’t time-travel supposed to help prevent exactly that?  

Maybe it could have saved Marty.  

Maybe it’s exactly what stole Marty away from them.  

“They’re going to tear this place down, Dave. In two weeks! T-w-o. And they’re not going to stop the bulldozers because you’re glued to that fucking couch. What good are you going to be dead? Do you know what that’s going to do to Mom?” She puts her hands on her hips and might have inwardly shuddered at how much she sounded like Mom if she had the energy.  

With Marty gone, she didn’t expect to be an older sister again. 

After a long, tense silence, she finally sighs. She didn’t come here to fight. “Did you eat anything today?” He’s swimming in his T-shirts now; they’re all but falling off his shoulders.  

Dave huffs, dragging his fingers through his shaggy hair. “Jen left about twenty minutes ago; she’s grabbing Chinese. You know, that place...where...”

Yeah. I know.

“I gave her some money. Then we’re gonna go back to this.” He spreads his arms, gesturing to the mess of paperwork that makes just as much sense as it did four and a half months ago.

“Are you staying?”

Linda says yes because a part of her, too, is trapped within these four walls.

[beloved-daydreams]

I'd like to add more into this!!! I hope you don't mind.

If Jude is fight, Vivi is flight and Taryn is fawn then I think Oak might be freeze.

In the stolen heir, it seems like he freezes before he switches into "murder mode" and to me this seems like he deliberately NEEDS to "dissociate" himself from the situation in order to act. It's not that he's not himself when he's murdering but there's definitely a switch in his mind that needs to be triggered or else he just stands there, taking the hits. The fae around him say that this is his way of deceiving others into believing he's weak and while I'm sure there's some truth to that, I also think he actually wants to avoid killing, to avoid fighting because once he starts he can't stop. Tiernan makes that clear, so why can't Oak stop? I bet it's because if he stops, he freezes and once he freezes, he's fucked. He needs to keep moving, to keep fighting until the literal end. He forces himself to do it for survival.

Now getting back to Taryn, I'd like to say that ultimately the life she had chosen with Locke wasn't because she agreed with his methods and outlook on life, although she felt a little bit of satisfaction on "getting back" to them (as we saw in the lost sisters) I don't think she necessarily wanted to live her whole life like that. She did what she needed because she assumed that once she got it, she wouldn't have to anymore, she just wanted to be safe, to be cared for. But what made her kill him? When he said that her story was over. She hated that. Because she went through all of that pain and trickery bullshit to end with a husband who doesn't value her? Who doesn't value the pain and the lengths she goes through to belong? Who thinks she has nothing left in her? She knows how much he loves drama, how much he loves watching "stories" unfold in front of him so what he said was possibly the most insulting thing he could've said. It's the equivalent of saying "you're not interesting to me anymore, I don't care about you" and Taryn knows that. (Also, I'd like to add how the narration makes it clear that Taryn takes Oriana as an example to follow but killing Locke was a very Madoc thing to do, THUS the readers liked it. Because we know Jude is more like Madoc and we like Jude.)

We know that overall, Taryn was the "better liked" twin because she was easier to deal with. Not only from their parents' pov (Oriana and Madoc) but also from the other fae. A small detail that I found interesting in the first book was how, when Taryn agrees to kiss Cardan on the cheek to save herself, Valerian treats her well. I don't remember the exact wording but it was something along the lines of "Valerian takes her hand to help her up, out of the water, as if she's a great lady". Which is funny, isn't? Valerian who we know is brutal and clearly hates humans. Who sets fae on fire for the heck of it. Taryn managed to make herself appear so inoffensive, so beautiful that she made Valerian of all people treat her carefully in that one moment. So lovely that she made a piece of shit act decent.

Jude notes how good she is at blending in, at saying the right thing, at wearing the right thing. When Jude pretended to be Taryn, she saw how she had completely redecorated Locke's castle, she saw the beautiful dresses she owns, she saw how she would get a faerie fruit for dinner??? (So like, did she drug herself for fun? Now the question is, did she do it just to feel good or did Locke say it would be fun? OR that's how she unwinds? So many questions. Or it could also be a poison type of situation like with Jude? Maybe Taryn was building resistance against the fruit because she knows Locke loves entertainment and he wouldn't mind her wife getting high off her ass in front of guests? That he would even encourage it?)

So what I'm trying to get at here is that, we literally saw Jude try to act like her for about half of the third book and we saw how in its own way, it's also really difficult to be Taryn. She just chose a different "battlefield", one where she's more skilled than Jude.

We also know that Taryn didn't know about how, the day before her wedding, Locke had sent fae after Jude to hurt/kill her??? And she even asks Jude why she didn't tell her earlier which shows that Taryn CLEARLY doesn't like how Locke sees even her family members as playthings. Later on, seeing how Jude almost fucking died she really comes through for her in the third book. I bet she partly blames herself since it happened because Jude had to take her place. So after that, she gets her hands on The Ghost to make him join them and makes sure Jude looks grand when she's Queen.

Little side-note: it was very strongly hinted that The Ghost has a thing for Taryn after that and I believe they would be a great match because they're pretty similar in some aspects. Ghost's thing is blending into the shadows, Taryn's thing is blending amongst other fae. And The Ghost being half-fae will probably make him "easy to deal with" since their humanity is another thing they have in common.

Anyway, at this point I'm rambling, but I firmly believe that Taryn's way of acting and navigating the fae world is much more like how most people would choose to do it since it is the "safest" and smartest option in the long run. To make yourself look vulnerable and pleasant so the fae don't feel threatened. When I first read the cruel prince and had no idea that Taryn was "betraying" Jude, I'm not gonna lie, I found myself agreeing on a lot of things with her. Like, yes it's embarrassing to kneel, it's embarrassing to surrender but seeing how the first 10 or so chapters of the book are showing us just how dangerous it is to go against the fae, I very much felt fear for Jude who kept rebelling again and again, knowing that she'll get fucked over later.

But I'd like to add: although Taryn was "betraying" Jude, we know that Jude has always had this rebellious and daredevil aspect to her. Especially thanks to htkoelths, where we see her talk trash in front of Cardan, and Taryn is silently freaking out. It makes me believe that it has always been this way, Jude goes against the fae -> the twins get in trouble. Now I'm not saying Jude is wrong, I'm just saying Taryn's frustration and fear is also really understandable and I think many of us, as much as we'd like to be a Jude, we would most likely be more of a Taryn. Let's not lie to ourselves.

Hey! I wanted to know why Taryn's character gets a lot of hate even tho she was trying to survive in faerie just as Jude did. Except her way of survival was more traditionally feminine and demure.

this has honestly been my point since like... forever lmao. if you've been on my blog for any length of time, you'll know i'm a pretty big Taryn apologist. i speak more about it in this post. but essentially, it's exactly what you said. and i have more to say.

[DISCLAIMER: this post is tagged as pro-Taryn Duarte. any comments or asks i receive expressing the reason why You Hate Taryn are entirely unsolicited and will be deleted on sight. if you don't like my opinion you can block the pro-Taryn Duarte tag, and scroll away.]

I. Me, harping on about Madoc deserving more of the fandom's scorn, part 300

it will always boggle my mind how this fandom allows Madoc every grace of "the complex character/relationship" but we don't afford Taryn even remotely the same attempt at understanding. even when Madoc committed infinitely more betrayals, infinitely more attrocities, than Taryn ever committed–or indeed has had time to commit given her extremely young age (compared to Madoc's centuries of life).

that's not to say i don't love Madoc. i think he's a great villain and his character, particularly his relationship with his children, is very complex. but why can't this be the same way we treat Taryn?

regardless of this blatant double-standard, people still hate her, and i think it has a lot to do with (as you said) the way Taryn handles her traumatic life events.

II. Trauma Responses and How They Are Received

[FOR LEGAL REASONS, THIS POST IS DISCUSSING HOW THE TRAUMA RESPONSES ARE PERCEIVED STRICTLY IN TERMS OF CHARACTERS, NOT IRL PEOPLE/SITUATIONS!]

i've discussed this on here before, but the Duarte sisters exhibit three out of the four recognised trauma responses in the way they cope with their parents' death/being taken to Faerie:

Jude- fight

Vivi- flight

Taryn- fawn

i think we can all agree that, in terms of what an audience wants to see from characters, Jude's fight response is the most palatable of the three. not only because she is the main character (and thus, everything is from her perspective/justified in her eyes), but also because it is what i believe most of us would want to be able to do ourselves in the face of adversity and hardship.

it's the most commendable. it is probably also the hardest to maintain (as is made apparent by the series as a whole). which is why the other two sisters employ alternative modes of survival.

as discussed in this post, Vivi survives by escaping. whenever and however she can. i'm not sure how everyone feels about this one. until recently, i had no idea people even had strong opinions about Vivi.

but i do know that the flight response could be considered a bit cowardly, even if it's effective. if there's anything to be respected about it, though, it's that the person knows in no uncertain terms that they are not cut out for facing the trauma head-on. and they are the first one to admit it.

the fawn response, however, is a kind of camouflage. it's doing everything in your power to be perceived a certain way, to fit in, to please people.

the thing i think people dislike about the fawn response, is that (if you twist the perspective enough) it could be viewed as dishonest. deceptive or manipulative. perhaps even spineless, depending on the situation.

and indeed, these are all phrases i've seen thrown around in close proximity to Taryn's name.

throughout the book, Taryn plays nice in order to get people to like her. she does whatever the fae tell her to do, even at the expense of her own or her sister's humiliation. and instead of making her own place at court, she announces that she will "fall in love" to earn her seat. meaning that she will rely on one of the fae (likely someone with station) to give her the privilege of staying at court, through means of marriage or children.

it's a more passive route to survival than Jude's. but that route isn't any less valid. it's just less masculine.

III. Active vs. Passive (and how it leads to misguided sensationalism)

society has taught us not to see passivity as a mode of operation, and unfortunately, this makes for overtly sensationalised (and therefore inaccurate) interpretations of character.

if the only actions a character takes are deceptive ones, we conclude they are intentionally deceiving people. if the character doesn't act at all, they are apathetic people. no matter the character's own motives. if they do not act the way we wish them to act, they must be in direct opposition to what we want.

take Taryn, for example. if her modus operandi is to camouflage, or passively fit in, we don't recognise this as an action. rather, we look at what she does do.

in order to achieve her goal, Taryn must actively betray her sister (multiple times), lie to her (multiple times), and kill her husband in cold blood (an attribute, if you ask me, but whatever). through these actions, we, as the audience, realise Taryn is not nice. but she portrays herself this way so she can get what she wants. as all good writing does, we are made to feel deceived right along with Jude.

but even though Jude herself forgives Taryn eventually, we still dislike her. because she is not our sister. she is not the main character. she doesn't mean much to us. we don't regard her as a nuanced person–she becomes, to many, this two-dimensional "enemy" or "other".

and if you aren't thinking critically about the text, and instead take the story personally, then yeah. you're going to hate Taryn at the end of it all.

people have a way of interpreting actions as the sole basis of character, while disregarding motive or intention. i don't think this wise. it's reductive at best, disingenuous at worst.

actions are a product of our nature and the conditions of our environment. Taryn is in just as much peril as Jude is in Faerie. the only reason you, dear reader, might not like Taryn is because she didn't act how you wanted her to act, and because she didn't act how you wanted her to act, she ended up hurting someone you care about (Jude).

this well-meaning loyalty unfortunately doesn't do much for an accomplished understanding of the text. which i get it. some of us are just here for fun and that's fine. but if you take the time to hate a character with as much passion as people seem to hate Taryn, you have time to think at least a little bit critically about the text.

—Em 🖤🗡

more theories & analysis

[cathcacen]

Man, it really says a lot about the current state of NWA that Tumblr is my happy place again.

[mymanreedus]

Daryl Season 2: “Hell, I was younger than her when I got lost. Nine days in the woods eating berries and wiping my ass with poison oak. My old man was off on a bender with some waitress. Merle was doing another stint in juvie. Didn’t even know I was gone. I made my way back though.”

Daryl Season 3: “My mom, she liked her wine. She liked to smoke in bed. Virginia Slims. I was playing with the kids in the neighborhood; I could do that with Merle gone. They had bikes. I didn’t. We heard sirens getting louder. They jumped on their bikes. Ran after it, you know? Hoping to see something worth seein’. I ran after them but I couldn’t keep up. Came around the corner I saw my friends lookin’ at me. I saw everybody lookin’ at me. Fire trucks everywhere. People from the neighborhood. It was my house they were there for. That was my mom in bed. Burnt down to nothin’. That was the hard part. She was just gone. Erased. Nothin’ left of her. People said it was better that way. I don’t know. Just made it seem like it wasn’t real, you know?”

“What about when we were kids? Who left who then?”

I didn’t know he--

“Yeah, he did. He did the same to you. That’s why you left first.”

I had to, man. I would have killed him otherwise.

Daryl Season 4: “I never eaten frozen yogurt. Never had a pet pony. Never got nothin’ from Santa Claus! Never relied on anyone for protection before! Hell, I don’t think I ever relied on anyone for anything!”

Daryl Season 5: Finds and takes a book called Treating Survivors of Childhood Abuse

Daryl Season 9: Of all the trusted adults at Hilltop it’s Daryl who Carol asks to look after Henry. He ends up looking after Lydia too.

Daryl Season 10: Of all the trusted adults at Alexandria it’s Daryl who Michonne asks to look after her children while she’s gone.

Daryl Season 11: Working a crappy job so he can make a home for Judith and RJ where they can be safe, have regular meals, access to good healthcare, make friends and get an education. Takes them to the fair. Buys Judith a record player . . . realizes he’s gotta overthrow the government the moment it threatens his and Rosita’s kids.

Character development of a big sweet Papa Bear.

[phoenixblack89]

Chapter 6 - Blood Of The Innocent

I'm here to deliver you another chapter. Ooo next chapter is a good one. Can't wait to give it to you guys. Gotta alotta drama in it! Eeekkkk!

Usual warnings apply - TWD violence, strong language, angsty shit. Ya know the usual.

Page breaker made by the awesome @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Tags - @lilythemadqueen @littlegodzilla @fandomsaremykryponite @autocon23

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

"So do we ring the bell? I mean it looks like people live here." Glenn asked as they climbed out the car. Phoenix scoffed, shook her head and pushed open the door and rushed inside, passing Maggie in the hall; who went to meet the newcomers.

"We're past this kind of stuff, aren't we? Having to be considerate." T-Dog grumbled just as the door opened and the mysterious rider stepped outside.

"Did you close the gate up the road when you drove in?" Maggie said, narrowing her eyes slightly.

"Uh, hi. Yes, we closed it. Did the latch and everything. Hello. Nice to see you again. We met before briefly. Look, we came to help. There anything we can do?" Glenn stammered, running a hand over the back of his neck.

"It's not a bite. I cut myself pretty bad though." T-Dog quickly rushed out as Maggie's eyes widened at the sight of his bloody bandaged arm.

"We'll have it looked at. I'll tell them you're here." Maggie said quietly, turning to lead the men into the house.

"We have some painkillers and antibiotics. I already gave him some. If Carl needs any..." Glenn explained as he followed the woman.

"Come on inside. I'll make you something to eat."

Maggie led the pair towards the bedroom where Carl lay pale and still under the sheets and Glenn took his hat off before approaching through the door as T-Dog leaned around the doorframe.

"Hey." Glenn greeted softly, so not to wake the injured child.

"Hey."

"Um, we're here, okay?" The Asian fidgeted with his hat with, what he hoped was, a reassuring smile.

"Thank you." Lori said tearfully, nodding at the men.

"Whatever you need." T-Dog agreed before allowing himself to be steered out of the room to have his arm looked at. Hershell gave Phoenix a glance before gaining the Grimes's attention.

"They don't get back soon, we're gonna have a decision to make."

"And that is?"

"Whether to operate on your boy without the respirator." He spoke softly.

"You said that wouldn't work." Lori whispered.

"I know. It's extremely unlikely. But we can't wait much longer."

"Tell how to get there and I'll go have a look. See if I can find them." Phoenix offered, pushing away from the window ledge and pulling herself to her full height. Rick shared a look with Lori and Hershell before nodding slightly despite not liking the idea of the girl being out alone in the dark.

Andrea and Daryl crept through the woods, Daryl holding tightly to his crossbow and trying not to think about the red head huntress who should of been with him, not off to an unknown farm with potentially dangerous people.

"You really think we're gonna find Sophia?"

"You got that look on your face, same as everybody else. What the hell's wrong with you people? We just started looking." He grumbled, glancing at the blond.

"Well, do you?"

"It ain't the mountains of Tibet. It's Georgia. She could be holed up in a farmhouse somewhere. People get lost and they survive. It happens all the time."

"She's only 12." Andrea counted with a shocked look on her face.

"Hell, I was younger than her and I got lost. Nine days in the woods eating berries, wiping my ass with poison oak."

"They found you?" She gasped.

"My old man was off on a bender with some waitress. Merle was doing another stint in juvie. Didn't even know I was gone. I made my way back though. Went straight into the kitchen and made myself a sandwich. No worse for wear. Except my ass itched something awful."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, that is a terrible story." Andrea snorted back a laugh at the redneck's expense.

"Only difference is Sophia's got people looking for her. I call that an advantage."

"Maybe this isn't a world for children anymore." Lori whispered as she leaned her hands against her knees.

"Yeah well, we have a child. Carl is here in this world now."

"Maybe he shouldn't be. Maybe this is how it's supposed to be." She spat at her husband.

"You can't mean that. Okay. Alright. I can understand that thought crossing your mind." The man said quietly, trying to understand his wife.

"It didn't cross my mind, Rick. I can't stop thinking it! Why do we want Carl to live in this world? To have this life? So he can see more people torn apart in front of him? So that he can be hungry and scared for however long he has before he.. So he can run and run and run and then even if he survives he ends up.. he ends up just another animal who doesn't know anything except survival? If he.. if he dies tonight, it ends for him. Tell me why it would be better another way?" Lori ranted, her eyes full of unshed tears and fear.

"What changed?"

"What?" Lori breathily said, turning her head to her husband.

"Jenner offered us a way out. You asked him to let us keep trying. You begged him. 'For as long as we can,' you said. What changed?" He explained, tilting his head.

"There was a moment the other day.. It was just a second but I forgot Jacqui was dead. I turned around, I wanted to tell her something. I almost said her name. It was just a second and then I remembered. But then I realized she didn't have to see any of it... The highway, the herds, Sophia, Carl getting shot.. she didn't... She doesn't have to be afraid anymore. Hungry. Angry. It hasn't stopped happening, Rick. It's like we live with a knife at our throats every second of every day. But Jacqui doesn't. Not anymore. And then... I thought, maybe Jenner was right."

"I don't accept that. I can't accept that. That man surrendered. It doesn't matt.. it doesn't matter what he said. None of it. You really think it would be better if Carl.. if we just gave up?" Rick pleaded, his heart heavy at his wife's words.

"Tell me why it would be better the other way! Please."

"Where are we?" Carl groaned as he came round, his eyes flickering from corner to corner.

"Hey, little man. That's Hershell. We're in his house. You had an accident. Alright?" Rick smiled down at his only son.

"It hurts, a lot."

"Oh baby, I know. I know." Lori said tearfully, smiling at him as she stroked his hair.

"You should have seen it." A little smile pulling the corners of his mouth upwards

"What?"

"The deer. It was so pretty, mom. It was so close. I've never been..."

"Carl?" Rick asked, turning to Hershell as the boy began convulsing on the bed.

"What's happening?" Lori asked, her hands moving to grab the shaking child.

"Don't! It's a seizure. If you hold him down, you could hurt him."

"You can't stop it?" She said turning to Hershell, hope in her wide eyes.

"He has to just go through it. His brain isn't getting enough blood. His pressure is bottoming. He needs another transfusion." Hershell sighed.

"Okay, I'm ready." Rick said standing before grabbing the chair as he became light headed.

"If I take any more out of you your body could shut down. You could go into a coma. Or cardiac arrest." The old vet shook his head and sighed.

"You're wasting time."

Andrea and Daryl walked deeper into the woods. The pair paused as a small camp came into view. Growling from above drew their attention to the walker with a rope around its neck. Daryl walked towards the tree where a note was tacked to it.

"What the hell? Got bit. Fever hit. World gone to shit. Might as well quit. Dumbass didn't know enough to shoot himself in the head. Turned himself into a big swinging piece of bait. And a mess." He scoffed, squinting his eyes to read the note in the dull light.

"Mhm." Andrea gagged at the sight of the walker's flesh striped legs.

"You all right?"

"Trying not to puke." She muttered, hand over her mouth.

"Go ahead if you gotta."

"No, I'm fine. Let's just talk about something else for a minute. How'd you learn to shoot?" Andrea asked, trying to quickly change thee subject before she lost the little she had eaten.

"Gotta eat. That's one thing these walkers and us have in common. I guess it's the closest he's been to food since he turned. Hanging up there like a big piñata! The other geeks came and ate all the flesh off his legs." Daryl whispered, using an arrow to point out the bite marks visible on the walker's legs as Andrea turned and vomited violently.

"I thought we were changing the subject." Andrea complained after throwing the merger contents of her stomach onto the ground behind Daryl.

"Call that payback for laughing about my itchy ass."

"There wasn't a lot that came up." Andrea said glancing downwards at the small pile of bile and turning to Daryl.

"Huh. Let's head back."

"Aren't you gonna..." She asked, pointing at the hanging walker.

"Nah. He ain't hurting nobody. Ain't gonna waste an arrow either. He made his choice. Opted out. Let him hang. You want to live now or not? It's just a question."

"An answer for an arrow. Fair?"

"Mhm." He nodded up at the woman, who glanced back at the walker.

"I don't know if I want to live or if I have to or if it's just a habit." Andrea shrugged, Daryl quickly put down the swinging, snarling walker and turned away.

"Not much of an answer. Waste of an arrow." He grumbled, turning away from his lost arrow.

"Yea but wouldn't you want someone to do that for you? Or for Phoenix?" She said with a hint of a smile curling her lip as she mentioned the red head. Daryl felt his ears heat up and was glad the darkness hid his reddening cheeks.

"Pfft."

T-Dog tried his hardest not to squirm as his arm got stitched up. Phoenix raised her eyebrow at the man, who stuck his tongue out at her. The man had an ashen look to his face that would hopefully be gone once the antibiotics kicked in.

"You got here right in time. This couldn't go untreated much longer. Merle Dixon? Is that your friend with the antibiotics?"

"No, ma'am. Merle's no longer with us. Daryl gave us those.. his brother." Glenn said, glancing at the girl.

"Not sure I'd call him a friend." T-Dog grumbled as his flesh tugged with every stitch. Phoenix sighed back a scoff and shook her head. As much as Merle annoyed her he had, in his own way, tried to help her. And she owed him one.

"He is today. This doxycycline might have just saved your life. You know what Merle was taking it for?" Patricia asked as she finished the stitches.

"The clap. Um, venereal disease." Glenn said, feeling a tad dirty knowing the details of Merle's love life. "That's what Daryl said."

"I'd say Merle Dixon's clap was the best thing to ever happen to you."

"I'm really trying not to think about that." T-Dog whispered, his stomach turning queasy at the thought.

Phoenix sat in the porch roof with a cigarette, she'd always loved high places, and could hear Glenn rustling in the chair below her as the screen door closed softly.

"Are you praying?"

"Why do you sneak up on people so much?" Glenn hissed after jumping out of his skin figuratively and twisting his hands together.

"You're easy to sneak up on." Maggie teased, a grin splitting her face.

"I was praying. I was trying to." He replied as Maggie leaned against the bannister.

"You religious? You pray a lot?"

"Actually this was my first try."

"Ever? Wow. Sorry. I didn't mean to wreck your first time." Maggie teased.

Phoenix struggled not to burst out laughing and had to cover her mouth, just imagining the look on Glenn's face at that sentence.

"God probably got the gist."

"Praying for what?" Maggie asked, curious about the young man in front of her. She couldn't help but find a lustful thought entering her mind. He was, after all, the first male she'd seen in a while who wasn't related or spoken for. Her hands twitched as she wondered what it would be like to bury her fingers into the inky black tresses on his head...

"My friends. Looks like they could all use a little help right now. You think.. you think God exists?"

"I always took it on faith. Lately I've wondered... Everything that's happened, there must have been a lot of praying going on. It seems quite a few went unanswered."

"Thanks. This is really helping." Glenn laughed quietly, smiling up at the woman.

"Sorry. Go ahead. Really."

"You gonna watch?" He asked, clasping his hands together once more. Maggie laughed lightly as Phoenix fought a snort of laughter.

"I'll get you a refill instead. I know it's not my business, and feel free to believe in God, but the thing is you've gotta make it okay somehow, no matter what happens." Maggie smiled softly, turning and walking back inside the farm house. Phoenix stuck her head over the edge of the porch roof and laughed a loud giggle. Glenn jumped and looked around wildly before spotting her head.

"What you doing up there?" He questioned as she smirked.

"Keeping an eye out. Height advantage y'know? Think she might be worth a shot at Glenn? Think she might wanna try something a little Asian?" She said, bringing her cigarette to her mouth as she tilted her head, wiggling her eyebrows. Glenn blushed bright red and began spluttering slightly. Phoenix let out a bark of a laugh before disappearing back onto the roof to allow the man to attempt his prayers.

Phoenix leaned against the sink in the kitchen and breathed deep. The youngest Greene girl entered the kitchen and gave a little gasp of surprise. The Brit turned and have a little smile to the blonde. The girl's big blue eyes ran over her clothes critically as she opened a drawer and pulled out a map.

"Daddy said you were going looking for Otis?" Her sweet innocent voice spoke quietly. Phoenix nodded as she lay the map out on the counter, pointing out the school and her home. "How old are you? You don't look too old. Sorry. That was rude."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just a little older than you probably... What does age matter when the dead have risen right?" She joked, the girl smiled in return as Phoenix pocketed the map quickly and wandered from the room. She gave T-Dog and Glenn a nod before skipping down the porch steps and climbing on her bike. She kicked it into gear and took off along the Greene's long drive.

"Before it happened we were standing there in the woods and this - deer just crossed right in front of us. I swear it just planted itself there and looked Carl right in the eye. And I looked at Carl looking at that deer, and that deer looking right back at Carl. And that moment just.. Slipped away. It slipped away. That's what he was talking about when he woke up, not about getting shot or what happened at the church. He talked about something beautiful, something living. There's still a life for us, a place maybe like this. It isn't all death out there. It can't be. We just have to be strong enough after everything we've seen to still believe that. Why is it better for Carl to live even in this world? He talked about the deer, Lori. He talked about the deer."

"He's still losing blood faster than we can replace it. And with the swelling in his abdomen we can't wait any longer or he's just going to slip away. Now I need to know right now if you want me to do this, because I think your boy is out of time. You have to make a choice." Hershell sighed quietly, glancing at both of the boy's parents.

"A choice?"

"A choice. You have to tell me what it is. You have to tell me what it is."

"We do it." Lori said determined that her child, her baby would be saved

"Okay, get the corner of that bed. Let's get the sheets down. Get the I.V. bag on the sheet. Okay, on three. One, two, three. Rick, Lori, you may want to step out." Hershell ordered before the sound of engines roared loudly outside.

"Oh God."

"You stay here with him."

Rick and Hershell rushed to the porch and sighed in relief as the truck and bike pulled to a stop.

"Carl?" Shane panted as he stepped out the truck, Phoenix stepping off her bike behind him having done a quick spin as she spotted him coming up the drive as she set off.

"There's still a chance." Rick said, embracing his best friend.

"Otis?"

"No." Shane whispered quietly, slumping his shoulders.

"We say nothing to Patricia. Not till after. I need her." Hershell stated, quickly grabbing the bags from the truck.

"They kept blocking us at every turn. We had nothing left. We were down to 10 rounds. Then he said.. he said he'd cover me and that I should keep going. So that's what I did. I just.. I kept going. But I.. I looked back and he.. I tried." Shane panted as Rick wrapped his arm around Shane's waist to help him inside.

"He wanted to make it right." Rick sighed, regretting his snappiness at the man.

Phoenix clenched her jaw as Shane hobbled past her. Not liking where her Saint mind was leading her in regards to the man's story.

"I've known Otis since I was a kid. He's run this farm since before my mother died." Maggie sobbed, rubbing her eyes as grief overwhelmed her.

"Who else? Who'd you lose? You told me I had to make it okay somehow. That's what you've been trying to do, right? Which ones?" Glenn asked, sitting beside her and offering what little comfort he could.

"Stepmother. Stepbrother."

"I lost... Nevermind..." Phoenix started before cutting herself off as the pair turned to her, feeling her tattooed fingers begin to itch. She excused herself from the room and stepped out into the cooler night air then glanced at the moon.

"He seems to have stabilized." Hershell sighed deeply, wringing a cloth over his bloody hands.

"Oh God." Rick gasped, his eyes misty with tears of joy.

"I don't have words."

"I don't either. Wish I did. How do I tell Patricia about Otis?" Hershell glanced towards the kitchen at the woman.

"You go to Carl. I'll go with Hershel." Rick says quietly, following the man to the new widow.

Lori walked into the house, she stops in the hall, her view clear into the kitchen where Hershel and Rick were telling Patricia about Otis. The small blond fell to the ground while Rick catches her and sits her on a chair. Her cries are heard as Lori walked away. Lori cried in relief as she now knew Carl was going to be ok as Shane joins her, hoovering in the doorway before turning to leave.

"Stay."

"The bathroom's upstairs. I brought you some clothes." Maggie said quietly, holding out a bundle of clothes at Shane as he hovered at the bottom of the stairs. Phoenix glanced at the man and thought for a moment she was a bald patch in his usual dark curls but passed it off as a trick of the light.

"Thank you." Shane said quietly, accepting the clothes from the farmer's daughter.

"They won't fit well. They were Otis's."

Phoenix watched as Shane's face flashed a look across it before he nodded and turned up the stairs. She hoped to God she was reading the room wrong... There's no way Shane had killed Otis, right?

[luna-jaden-shadow]

Saved You First

Request - hello! Can you do a platonic Daryl imagine with a teenager reader where Daryl is on a run, gets hurt and passes out and when he wakes up in an unknown place, he's wound has been patched up and he meets the reader who has been alone for a long time. Daryl tries to get her to come to Alexandria but the reader doesn't trust him so he keeps coming back to win her trust and slowly it becomes like a father-daughter relationship. thank you so much!

Fluff 

Warning - Blood/Gore?

Pairing - Daryl Dixon X Fem!Teen!Reader

-><-

-><-

The walkers are the first thing that comes to mind when Daryl comes to. The sound of them pounding against the door of the little shop he was forced to close himself in. They were persistent as always, nearly breaking down the door before Daryl had succumbed to his injury and fell unconscious. Was he still bleeding out? He wondered that too as he thought of the large gash in his side from a walker slamming him against a broken window during his run to get supplies. 

For a moment, Daryl flexes his hand, clenching and unclenching it in an attempt to see if this was real. He’s laying on a bed instead of the tile floor of the store. On high alert, Daryl opens his eyes and is utterly confused to find himself in what seems to be a house instead of the old drug store he was at before. Cautiously, Daryl turns his head and scans the room, his eyes first catch the scattered medical supplies on the side table, prompting him to touch his side.

A bandage covers his side now, someone had fixed it up for him. Not too far from the bed was his crossbow, propped against the wall with his backpack, and boots. They look untouched since they were brought here. Keeping his hand on his side, Daryl sits up on the bed, not even flinching at the pain at his movement. The door to the room he’s in is closed and the hunter can’t hear anything else going on in the house. At the end of the bed is a folded blanket and his shirt folded nicely. 

Daryl moves to get up but stops instantly at the sound of the front door of the house opening. His eyes dart around quickly in hopes of finding a weapon but he comes up short, all the weapons being across the room against the wall. The steps quickly come up the stairs and he can faintly hear a voice outside the door as they get closer. 

The doorknob turns and the door opens quietly. “I got more bandages and I found this stuff, hope it works. What do you thin-” Standing in the doorway is a girl, looking no older than Y/a. In your left hand is a bandage roll and a bottle of some kind of pills. You stare at Daryl for a moment in shock before swallowing hard. “Oh, you’re awake.” Your voice is quieter than before now as you slowly make your way around to the side table. “It’s not much but.” You set the bottle down on the table.

You practically shiver under his gaze, feeling him looks you over. He’s never seen you before, there’s no reason that you should have saved him. How did you even get him here? Were you the only one here beside him? How did you make it this far? Daryl was so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t even notice that you were moving to change his bandages. 

He jumps back, startling you and making you fall back on the floor in fear of being hurt. The two of you are frozen for a moment, staring at each other as you clutch the bandages in your hand. “I have to change that.” You say quietly, gesturing to the bandage wrapped around his torso. “Or it’ll get infected.” You reason with him, and he gives in, allowing you to get close and change the bandages. “It’s gonna leave a scar. But I have a feeling you don’t care about that.” You muse quietly beside the large man. 

Daryl noticed how quiet you became after that while you worked on him. He could see how your hands shook subtly, the slight fear and caution in your eyes. “You got a name?” He finally asks when you move away from him, cleaning up the mess you’d left behind on the table. He doesn’t miss the way you tense up ever so slightly at the sound of his voice, like you weren’t used other people, another person, being with you. 

You pause for a moment, glancing over your shoulder at him. In your mind you debate even telling him as you finish cleaning. He’s overly patient with you as you remind him so much of himself when he was younger. “Y/n.” You finally tell him, walking towards the door. “I’m making food if you want some, feel free to come down.” You offer him before disappearing, this time leaving the door open ever so slightly. 

Daryl stayed sat on the bed for a long while, it wasn’t until the smell of whatever you were cooking reached his room that he actually got up. Before he left the room, Daryl puts on his button up shirt, careful to not open the wound. When he got down and to the living room he was greeted by you and an extra plate on the coffee table. 

“I made you a plate.” You tell him, pointing to the other plate of food. “Hope you like squirrel.” He’s almost tempted to laugh at that, instead just walking over and taking the plate. “Sit wherever I guess.” This time you offer him a small smile. Daryl sits in the recliner beside the couch, quietly eating. 

The two of you sit in silence, eating. It’s comfortable, so different from when Daryl would eat with his group. There was no baby babbling on, no Michonne and Carl making jokes and faces at each other, there was no Glenn and Maggie acting like a romance novel as Daryl had put it. It was so strange to him now to be eating in silence. 

“You never told me your name.” You suddenly speak up, getting Daryl out of his mind. “I gave you mine so it’s only fair.” The pointed look you give him has him nodding, a ghost of a smile coming to his face. 

Daryl gives you a small nod, leaning back in the chair. “Daryl.” You hum, nodding in understanding. “It just you ‘ere?” His southern accent had you smiling a bit. You nod silently, still eating the food on your plate. Daryl contemplated for a good bit asking you the questions and then he finally spoke up. “How many walkers have you killed?” 

You look form your plate in confusion, is this what people talk about now? You wondered that as you picked your brain for some form of an answer. “I don’t know, too many.” You shrug, putting your plate down and looking at the redneck sitting in the chair curiously. 

Daryl nods, biting at his thumb nail for a moment. “How many people have you killed?” That question has you pulling your knees to your chest. Memories of what feels like years ago creep their way up, sending a shiver down your back. “One.” You whisper, glancing over at Daryl. 

Daryl does look surprised at your answer. “Why?” He watches you closely as you grip your legs close to you. 

“They asked me to.” You admit to Daryl, taking in a deep breath. Daryl nods, thinking it over. 

“I have a place.” You lock eyes with him, a twinge of fear filling you. “It’s called Alexandria. You can come with me, you’d be safe there.” He explains, seeing you tense up at the thought of going somewhere. 

Suddenly, you stand up with your plate, shaking your head. “No.” He’s in shock now, almost no one would have turned that down. “No offense but I don’t know you. For all I know you’re only nice because you’re hurt and I’d kick your ass.” He’s even more shocked at your change in personality as you talk to him. “So, sorry but no. You can leave whenever to go back to Alexandria was it? I’m okay where I am, really.” With that you walked away from him. 

From that moment on Daryl made it his goal to get you to trust him. He stayed for another day, mostly talking to you before he finally left to go to Alexandria but not before he made you a promise. He promised -- swore -- that he’d come back until you said yes to him. Everyone at home was confused when he’d leave around noon with some kind of food and not come back until sundown. When questioned, he just said he was meeting a friend, which was a first for him. 

“Wait, no way.” You smile bright, sitting on the porch beside Daryl, eating some fruit that he’d brought form Alexandria. Daryl nods, smiling at the sound of your soft laughter. 

Daryl looks at you, dead serious. “Yup.” He confirms, “Must have been out there for two days.” You stare at him in wonder. “Had to find my own way back, got a rash from some poison oak.” You started laughing, having stopped eating so you wouldn’t choke on the apple in your hand. When your laughter calmed down your attention falls to the sky, seeing the sunset behind the trees. 

You look at Daryl as you finish your apple and toss it out into the grass in front of the porch. “Don’t you have to go?” You question him and he shrugs. “I don’t care what you do really.” You yawn, stretching your arms out in front of you. “But won’t your people worry?”

For a moment Daryl’s quiet before he shrugs again. “I’d rather be out here.” He says and you smile, subtly leaning to the side and resting your head on his shoulder. 

You can feel him relax under you as you basically snuggle against him. “Hey Daryl?” He hums. “Can we go tomorrow?” You question and a look of confusion crosses his face. “To Alexandria. I’m ready.” You close your eyes with a small smile. 

“Of course we can, Sunshine.”

[theowhy]

[thiam] following footsteps

2.4k / g / oneshot

note: hello friends :’) long time no post, i just never have any free time these days. my writing brain cells are rusty but here’s a short thing that was meant to be a, uh, christmas fic but that i couldn’t wrangle into shape until now. it’s not terribly contingent on the christmas season and i hope it’s enjoyable even two months late lmao

The cold is the worst thing when Liam finally comes to. Everything bombards him at once: the bruising ache in his back, the smell of dirt and pine and damp clothes. But the cold—that chills him straight to his bones.

“Shit,” Liam says.

“‘Shit’ is right,” says Theo, a disembodied voice somewhere off to Liam’s left because Liam can’t even bear to open his eyes yet. He’d recognize Theo’s presence even if blind or dead.

How annoying. Though in this moment, it gives Liam a weary sense of comfort, knowing he’s not alone.

“What happened?” he groans, bringing a hand up to gingerly touch his temple where a headache currently pounds.

“You got your ass handed to you,” Theo says. He shifts, clothes rustling, a crunching sound beneath his feet.

Ice? Liam opens his eyes.

They were in the forest, he finally remembers. And sure enough, they’re surrounded by dark trees and a white landscape, grey clouds beyond them, a hard ground beneath. There are rocks, too: Theo must have found some kind of outcropping in the hills to shelter from the snow flurrying through the air. Had he dragged Liam under here after… whatever happened before he was out?

“Yes, I dragged you here,” Theo says, then rolls his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, your face was obvious.”

Liam grimaces. “Did I get hit?”

“Thrown through a tree, actually.” There’s way too much pep in Theo’s voice when he says it. He points out away from them, towards a splintered tree stump in the distance. Its other half lies not far past it, slowly being buried beneath the snow. “That one.”

“Ouch.” Explains why Liam’s back is killing him. “What was it?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I got thrown through a tree, cut me some slack.” Liam gingerly moves to sit up and rub some warmth back into his arms.

“It was… I don’t even know how to describe it.” Theo frowns as he remembers. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. This big white ball of… energy. Ice. It got mad when it saw us and blew you into that tree. There’s been a snowstorm ever since.”

“Did you… kill it?” Liam asks apprehensively.

“Hell no, I grabbed you and hauled ass. You’re lucky it didn’t follow.”

“So it’s still out there? We have to tell the others.”

Theo wordlessly digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He taps the home button. The screen doesn’t light up.

Liam gapes. “Did you seriously bring an uncharged phone out into the middle of nowhere?”

“It’s not my fault you were out for an hour, okay?” Theo snarls. “We were supposed to take a quick look around and go back, I didn’t know some mythical snow spirit whatever the fuck was going to attack us. At least my phone is still in one piece.”

“What?” Dread sinks into Liam’s stomach. He digs into his back pocket, pulls out a mess of circuits and glass and dented metal. He squeaks, “Oh no.”

“Yeah, nice.” Theo sighs. “What is that, your second phone this year?”

“Third.” Liam buries his head in his hands. “My parents are going to kill me.”

It was hard enough convincing them to let him go on this trip to the mountains, where Scott and the rest of the pack had rented a cabin for the weekend. Ostensibly it was to investigate reports of sudden blizzards and extreme snowfall, something Deaton had thought concerning enough for them to check out. But in actuality, none of them expected it to be anything more than some random meteorological weirdness. Scott brought his Nintendo Switch and Mario Kart. Lydia brought wine.

But they’d hardly settled into the cabin before Scott suggested they take a look around before dark, just to get some work in before Mario Kart and chill. Figures Liam didn’t even get the chance to kick Theo’s butt at Mario Kart before the universe decided to screw him over and make his parents ground him forever. It’s not his fault his life suddenly became full of a whole lot more fighting than Liam ever expected, even into his senior year of high school.

“There’s no way I’m gonna try and find my way back in this blizzard,” Theo says, with the finality of a nail into a coffin. “So I suggest you get comfortable.”

Liam sighs, watches the white puff of his breath fade into the air. The wind howls in long, drawn out tones. His whole backside is wet from lying on the ground. His head still hurts.

“Yeah, real easy,” he mutters, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. First things first, try to get his body to stop shivering.

There’s quiet for a moment. Liam’s so preoccupied finding any vestiges of warmth in his body that he startles when something soft is pushed onto his head. He turns his gaze towards Theo.

Theo, whose beanie has now been placed on Liam’s head.

“It ain’t much, but take it,” Theo says, hardly more than a murmur, nearly lost to the sound of the wind. But Liam hears him.

“I’m fine,” he says.

Theo rolls his eyes. “Liam, just take it.”

“But what about you?”

“I can handle a little cold.” Theo crosses his arms tighter, breathes a big exhale that sends a shroud of white around him, thick as smoke. It hides him for a moment but fades away soon enough. His hair is mussed from tugging his beanie off. His nose and cheeks are red, and there are stray snowflakes on Theo’s shoulders, caught in strands of his hair.

It’s more than just a little cold. The beanie helps, in a small way; Theo had given what little he could. That matters, Liam thinks.

It must be that—along with instinctual, human need—that compels Liam to scoot closer until he’s pressed up against Theo’s side.

Theo goes rigid.

He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Liam.

Finally, Theo says, “What are you doing?”

“It’s cold,” Liam says simply. “You said get comfortable.”

“Comfortable does not mean sitting on top of me.”

“I’m not on top of you,” Liam scoffs. “We gotta huddle for warmth.”

“Sure, huddle. Not cuddle.” Theo pointedly scoots away. Liam follows. “Liam.”

“Theo, come on. I’m not dying out here.”

“I’m not dying out here, either,” Theo says, then shuts his mouth.

Liam laughs.

“Glad you find this funny,” Theo grumbles, but this close together, Liam can feel the way he relaxes, the way he presses in by one reluctantly given inch. But it’s something.

Liam tugs the beanie more snugly onto his head, trying not to smile. Yeah. It’s something.

It doesn’t change the fact that they’re stuck out here until whichever happens first: the blizzard goes away (not looking likely), the pack finds them (even less likely, given that Liam hopes they have the wisdom to stay out of the blizzard, too), or God intervenes. Liam’s never had much luck with the last one.

So he takes in his surroundings instead. There isn’t much to see, really, besides trees, trees, and more trees. The occasional bush. Plenty of snow. And—

“Oh!” Liam says, sitting up straighter and pointing. “Mistletoe!”

Theo doesn’t even look and says, “Nice try, Liam. If you wanted to kiss, you could just ask.”

Liam sputters and shoves Theo hard on the shoulder, which hardly budges him. Theo smirks. “No, dude, ugh. Christmas was like a month ago, anyway. I mean there’s literally mistletoe growing on the trees.”

“Riveting,” Theo drawls, but humors Liam anyway. He looks out to where Liam’s pointing at a bushy mass growing in the branches of one of the trees ahead of them. “That it?”

“Yeah.” Liam squints. He can see its leaves rustling with the wind, how different they are from the leaves of the oak tree it rests in. “Phoradendron villosum. Pacific mistletoe. Don’t eat it.”

“I know that.”

“Did you know mistletoe is a parasite?”

“It’s poisonous, that doesn’t surprise me.” Theo looks mildly interested anyway, and Liam feels a small thrill of victory over it. It’s not often that he gets to share some biology knowledge that Theo doesn’t already know. “So why are people obsessed with hanging it in doorways and stuff?”

“Why do people do anything? Superstition. Folklore.” A particularly strong gust of wind sends a branch of the mistletoe flying. It lands in the snow a few feet ahead of them. “Some cultures saw it as a symbol of fertility. I guess the white berries remind them of—er.”

An awkward beat of silence.

Theo says, “I hope the snow kills us soon.”

Liam’s face burns. At least he feels a little less cold now.

He clears his throat. “Anyway… It’s also associated with protection from witches and demons and stuff.”

“I never took you for a mistletoe nerd.”

“I wrote a report about them in freshman bio. It was kind of interesting. Makes it a little less romantic to know they actually kill the trees they grow on.”

“How beautiful,” Theo says flatly. “You’re still a nerd, though.”

“Shut up.” Liam nudges his shoulder against Theo’s. The corner of Theo’s mouth tugs up just slightly.

Liam’s never done it before, kissed someone under the mistletoe. Hayden came and went too quickly for them to ever reach Christmas, and there hasn’t really been anyone since. There was never any time. And, more honestly, no one else has ever made him feel quite the same.

Well. Almost no one else.

But that’s only ever been a passing daydream, one that’s plagued him in random moments. On an elevator ride back down to the first floor of Beacon Hills Memorial. In the passenger seat of a truck. In sparse texts, shared late at night long after pack meetings have ended.

In a snowy forest, surrounded by no one else.

“Hey, Theo,” Liam says.

Theo grunts and turns towards him.

“What?” he says.

Liam presses their lips together. Theo stops breathing.

A kiss would describe it generously. Liam breathes when it becomes evidently clear that Theo won’t. That’s fine. Taking him by surprise is pretty nice. In any case, the kiss ends almost as soon as it began, and Liam pulls away from the corner of Theo’s mouth. The warmth lingers afterwards.

“W-What the hell was that for?” Theo stammers—Theo, stammering—and brings his hand up over his mouth.

“Mistletoe,” Liam says.

“You—idiot.” Theo brings his other hand up to cover his face, but it’s not enough to hide the red lingering at the tips of his ears. It’s a nice color. “You are so… You…”

“Yeah, you too,” Liam says, not bothering to suppress a grin.

Theo gives him a look through the gaps between his fingers, and Liam expects him to grind out another poorly executed insult when Theo drops his hands, his eyes widening, mouth falling slack.

“What?” Liam says.

Theo just grabs him by the shoulders and tugs him back, further into their little shelter.

“What?” Liam says again, more irately. He turns to look where Theo keeps gaping over Liam’s shoulder.

He finds a great, big ball of blue. Liam’s voice dies in his throat.

His first thought is of ball lightning, something he and Mason had spent one sleepover watching way too many videos of on YouTube. In truth, they didn’t care for the science of it rather than the fact that it looked super fucking cool. Just a sphere of pure energy and light, sweeping through open plains or swathes of sky. This doesn’t feel quite like that, but on the surface it seems the same: crackling, blue-white energy, swirling in a sphere that must be a meter wide, at least. Its core is opaque, like hard ice, and there’s a strange hum about it as it drifts closer to them.

It is frighteningly close. Theo draws an arm out across Liam, pushing him against the rocks at their back. But the sphere doesn’t attack them, doesn’t whip them with a sharp slice of wind like Liam was hit with earlier.

It only drifts over their hiding spot, passing by like an elk through the woods. Calm and constellated with flecks of ice and snow. Something about it feels as old as time itself.

Both of them hold their breaths as it passes. It disappears over them, drifting over the hill. The winds calm. The snowfall begins to diminish until it ceases completely.

It’s quiet.

They stay still for one, two, three heartbeats. Then Theo drops his arm. They both exhale.

“Holy shit,” Liam says, panting like he ran a marathon. “Was that it?”

“No, it was a different big blue ice ball,” Theo says. “Of course that was it.”

“That… was awesome.” Liam crawls out of their shelter to look around for any sign of it. It’s long gone, not even a trail left in its wake.

“I see you’ve already forgiven it for trying to kill you.”

“I don’t want to get thrown through a tree again, but it didn’t attack us this time. We probably spooked it earlier. And look, it stopped the blizzard.”

“You’re way too chipper for seeing something that unreal,” Theo says, following Liam out.

The newly returned sunlight falls over Theo’s shoulders, making him that much easier to see. Theo turns his face up to the sun. His damp hair curls at his temples.

Despite Theo’s griping, Liam can see the wonder in his eyes, the way they glow. He looks alive. Liam thinks about how the blood inside him and the blood inside Theo must be the same, despite everything.

Liam says, “Hey. Thanks.”

Theo frowns. “Why?”

“For saving me earlier.” And the time before that. And the time before that.

Theo scoffs, and where Liam usually sees shutters falling over his face, a mask piecing back together, now he sees a hint of a smile. Something brighter, underneath.

“Whatever,” Theo says, and snatches his beanie off Liam’s head so he can ruffle his hair aggressively.

“Dude!” Liam yelps. 

Theo laughs and whirls away, tearing through the snow in a direction Liam will have to trust is home.

There’s no hesitation at all before Liam chases after him.

--

note: big ice ball inspired by the leschach entite of ffxii. because..... im a nerd :p 

[ad1thi]

2020 fic recs!! [Part 1]

this idea was stolen from @iam93percentstardust cuz i just,,,thought that this year was absolute shit and it would be nice to make a fic rec list of fics from this year that helped me through it. this will be over a range of fandoms and ships, but all fics were written this year. 

fics are ordered by the month they were published. ive tried to keep to five fics per month, but this is not obviously all the fics ive read that month - i just didn’t want to make this insanely long. 

im releasing the first half of this on the 1st of December, and the second half on the 1st of January 2021 - because otherwise it would just get so long (and also so i will actually have fics for December)

happy reading!! hopefully you find fics on this you haven’t read yet

***

January

The cat is mighty dignified (until the dog comes by): @five-wow

Steve and Danny find them on the pillow in the corner of the dining area, where Eddie is on his side, ass half on the floor because the pillow is more cat-sized than lab-sized, and Pickles is nestled between Eddie’s front legs, essentially being spooned and looking very I-got-the-cream about it. Pickles’ head is tucked into the crook of Eddie’s neck and Eddie’s head slots perfectly on top of Mr. Pickles’, like a furry jigsaw puzzle.

“They’re cuddling,” Steve points out, unnecessarily.

Or: There is a love story unfolding under the McGarrett roof.

Captain ‘Socialist Rage Muffin’ America: @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

It takes three months of dating Steve Rogers for Tony to understand why Aunt Peggy once shot at him in sheer frustration.

Alternately titled, Honey, I committed treason again.

The Best Laid Plans (Of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

Fourteen Million to One: @tunastorks

Six months after Thanos, six months after Tony’s death, six months after Steve returns to his own timeline, Tony Stark turns up on their doorstep.

Brewed Awakening: @iam93percentstardust

Two years after he comes out of the ice, Steve is drifting through life. On his teammate's recommendation, he decides to go back to school where he meets the grandson of an old friend. He finds happiness with Tony but Steve won't be in Boston forever and someone is out to hurt the Starks. Will Steve and Tony be able to reach their happily ever after?

February

the young, the reckless and the foolish: @bruciewayne

In most universes, they don't know each other, not in the slightest, or they hate each other, in a way that's perfectly logical for anyone who were to find themselves in a similar situation.

In this one, they've known each other since they were four years old and naively idealistic.

This is them over the years, against the odds.

a giant sign: @areiton

“Think you can get him to open the weapons division up again?” his CO asks, his voice hungry and Rhodey laughs because this--

“No. Tony hung up his weapons.”

“That’s not what the suit says,” his CO objects, and Rhodey shrugs.

Tony has always had rules, rules he expects the entire world to live by.

And then there was Rhodey, slipping under them.

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast: @nethandrake

Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual.

He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either.

What is unusual is that the stranger is silent.

(One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Just A Cold: @/delighted 

There’s a new text waiting for him. It’s from Steve of course, and it’s vaguely threatening as most messages from Steve are these days. Still Danny ignores it, and now he’s really playing with fire. Maybe it’ll burn the cold out of him.

Or, Danny’s sick, and Steve can’t stay away. The usual comfort fluff. With a little cameo from a gently meddling Grace.

An Unexpected Guide: @/Rachel500

Danny Williams has hidden his Guide status to keep being a detective, but his time of hiding is up when he unexpectedly finds his Sentinel, Steve McGarrett in the midst of a tragedy.

March

Why don’t we (Collide the spaces that divide us): @five-wow

When they finally catch sight of each other again through the milling crowds, they’re both a little worse for wear. Danny’s left side is covered in glitter and every time he brushes a hand over his hair, more blue and purple confetti rains down. Steve is- Well, Steve is randomly shirtless, which is all things considered not excessively remarkable, but he’s also covered in smudges of colorful paint and has a very nicely printed bloodred lipstick kiss mark on his cheek.

“What did you do?” Danny asks, because it looks like Steve had a lot more fun than he did.

Or: Steve and Danny accidentally end up in the middle of something entirely new.

A Little Unsteady: @finduilasclln 

Written for the Tumblr prompt meme : "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

Tony lashes out at Bucky for eating his dessert. Only, it really isn't about the dessert.

a national treasure: @starklysteve

Steve isn't looking for an apple and Tony decides his passion is to inspire young souls. -x- OR: the AU where Tony is a Youtuber and Steve is Captain America and somehow they still save the world together.

April

cycle through: @ambivalentmarvel

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Stark disappeared from his family home a month after the tragic deaths of his parents, Howard and Maria Stark, leaving a billion-dollar tech conglomerate without an heir and the world wondering what happened.

Twenty-three years ago, HYDRA gained another super soldier.

Ten years ago, Peter Parker’s parents died in what is ruled as a home invasion gone wrong but he knows was murder, plain and simple, because he spoke to the killer.

And in the present, Project Insight fails, and the Iron Soldier pays the price.

FOREVER-LOVE YOU-I: @/Eudoxia

Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

Especially for Tony's soulmate.

--

Companion piece to my fic Thumb, Index, and Pinky Extended. This is Steve's POV, with a few extra scenes, as a treat.

(Edit: Sorry if you guys get multiple notifications for this. I just realized (about two hours after posting it) that I fucked up the grammar in the title and I HAD to fix it. YOLO, I guess.)

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

i don’t have a choice (but i’d still choose you): @nethandrake

There’s a name inked onto his chest, a name written in an all-too familiar scrawl. And it’s— It’s—

Steve doesn’t realize his body is quaking until he’s tracing the tattoo with a shaky finger.

Because of course that is the name etched into the skin. Like a brand, a reminder for everything he has done. An appropriate retribution.

Anthony Edward Stark.

(When Thanos snaps half of the universe away, he unknowingly leaves the other half with soulmarks.)

ua haʻalele ʻoe iaʻu (a ua hoʻomālamalama ʻoe iaʻu): @just-fandomthings

"The truth is, I was shot in the chest and nearly died, and not even three days after I was released from the hospital, you up and left-- and of those two, I'm not sure which one hurt me worse!"

(Coda to 10x22 because come on, we all need a better ending than the one given to us.)

Title loosely translates to: "You left me in the dark (you lit me up)" -- inspired by the brilliant song "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur

May

A Piece Of The Past: @hddnone

It had been so many years since Bucky had gone undercover in the Stark family's mob, he thought he'd gotten away clean.

Then Tony Stark slid into the seat across from him at his breakfast diner, and Bucky's boss has a new case for him.

the privilege of loving you: @starklysteve

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It’s a desperate plea, half-shouted and half-whispered, Steve’s voice cracking at the end. Tony stops in his tracks, halfway to the stairs. He doesn’t dare to turn back, and he really doesn’t want to fight, or to leave, to spend the last month of his life away from his husband and their son. But Steve can’t know, can he?

-x-

Or: Tony has palladium poisoning, but he doesn't tell Steve and Peter

your pillow feels so soft now (but still you must advance): @firebrands

When Bruce is 13, he decides to go to boarding school. It's an opportunity for him to learn about other people, and how to interact with them.

Bruce has the misfortune of meeting Tony Stark upon his arrival in Roxbury. Bruce is moving into his room, and Tony opens the door of his room to watch. He looks a bit younger than Bruce, hair wild and eyes bright. Bruce has never seen a boy like him before—handsome and confident.

Bruce doesn’t like it.

IMPORTANT: This fic has them meeting at 14, then progresses slowly until they’re 17. Includes underage drinking and kissing.

This is set before Bruce becomes Batman and Tony becomes Iron Man and I have no explanation as to how or why they just DO Canonically, Bruce is 17 when he finishes school and goes around the world to train, so we're sticking with that

The Real MVP: @sword-and-stars (part of a series)

[“I have saved this Tuesday!” Sokka announces, rattling the bag upon reentry.

Zuko doesn’t even look up from his phone as he deadpans, “It’s Thursday.”

Okay, so Sokka is still having trouble getting his days right without checking. At least he’s gone back to sleeping at night! Going to bed at night is way easier when you have a cute, cuddly boyfriend who starts falling asleep around eleven o’clock. It also helps that he and Zuko are on solid gold butt-touching terms.

It’s been a while since Sokka has been on butt-touching terms with someone and it’s amazing.]

Or,

Sokka knows a guy, gets laid, and introduces Zuko to the merits of an afternoon delight.

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it): @riotwritesthings

There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch.

And one tiny little bed.

June

Nice Fingers: @anthonyed

A single compliment given by Tony stirs Bucky restless until he caves in and asks him out on a date.

With Steve’s help of course (whether he likes it or not).

The Darkest Touch: @starkrogerrs

This is the story of how Steve finds that it has been ordained that he is to marry a monster he cannot resist aka the God of Love himself, Tony.

It's Cupid x Psyche retold, but with thrice the amount of porn.

The Night Shift:  @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Wind Beneath My Wings: @iam93percentstardust

Sam first meets Tony Stark in 2005 when he joins the EXO-7 Falcon program.

In jest: @/apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

[alj4890]

Six Sentence Sunday

I'm behind on so much due to life in general, LOL. But to show that I am working on things here is a sneak peek into the next parts of Delicate (which this should be the last chapter of this short series), And Then I Left You, and a few drabbles I have in my WIP folder.

tagging a few that might be interested  @jooous @krsnlove @nomadics-stuff   @twinkleallnight @motorcitymademadame @gkittylove99 @darley1101  @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles t @lodberg​   @my-heart-beats-for-ya​ @aworldoffandoms​ @flyawayboo​  @trappedinfanfiction​ @everythingmarvelsherlockspn​  @sophxwithers​ @esmckenzie​ 

Delicate

This might be the first ball in the history of Drake's years in Cordonia to actually cause a certain excitement. He usually put up with the pomp and traditions to simply be with those he cared about. For years it was to support Liam, then going meant he could hang out with Riley, Hana, and Maxwell.

And then there were his activities in secret for a year with Olivia.

He knew she would be arriving soon. Her absence from Cordonia had been one he felt more acutely than any other. His failure in telling her how he felt about her, his inability to have a civil conversation, even his voicemail had kept him fixated on this date.

He intended for this new year to involve a new relationship with Olivia. He simply needed to find a moment alone with her.

Which as he entered the drawing room Riley and Liam used frequently for their closest friends, he realized that was going to be more difficult than he originally thought. All their friends had come home for the ball.

"I can't believe they gave us that ridiculous moniker." Thomas shook his head.

"The press isn't always known for their intelligence." Liam said, fighting a smile.

"Thomanda." Amanda laughed just saying it. "It sounds like some weird foot fungus cream."

"The press have had five years to come up with anything better than that." Thomas wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders. "They should have combined our last names. Brunt is more tolerable than Thomanda."

Maxwell rolled off the couch laughing. "We now have to come up with crazy couple names for all of us!"

"We were given Riam." Riley replied. "Personally I prefer Liley, but Riam stuck."

"Naxwell or Madia." Amanda said between giggles while pointing at Maxwell and Nadia. "That's your possible couple's name."

"Naxwell sounds like a snack cake or cookie." Riley added with a chuckle.

"We are sweet." Maxwell responded, cuddling Nadia close.

Hana sighed at seeing them all so happy together. "What would mine and Rashad's be?"

"Rashana?" Riley offered.

"Oh I like that so much better than what I thought." Amanda laughed. "I at first thought Hahad."

The group burst into laughter while more couple names were bandied about.

"So what do we dub Olivia and Ethan?" Liam asked.

"Ethalivia?" Hana offered.

"Olithan?" Maxwell added.

"Oooh! Olithan!" Riley exclaimed. "Sounds like a sea monster. Olivia will love it!"

**************

And Then I Left You

Thomas had worried that first day how they would handle the hotel situations he believed they were bound to encounter. He had gotten used to Olivia's secret passageways allowing him to see Amanda whenever he wanted.

He should have known that the intelligent lady he adored had already solved that problem.

Pulling onto a gravel road, she drove him toward a cottage that sat alone in a rolling meadow dotted here and there with trees. The two-story, thatched roof building sat amidst large Cordonian oak trees. Roses twined around a drain pipe while wisteria grew in wild abandon adding even more beauty to the rough stone walls.

"I know we could stay somewhere different with each place we visit," Amanda explained. "But then I thought we could stay our entire time somewhere in the middle of it all. It will mean more driving each day, but we will have nothing but privacy here."

Thomas stepped out and followed her inside. The cottage was just as charming on the inside as it was on the outside. Much of the furniture was designed strictly for comfort and a few for whimsy. The wooden floors creaked with each step as he explored the different rooms.

Upstairs, there were two bedrooms directly across from one another with a bathroom dividing them.

His lips curved at knowing he wouldn't have to find a way to sneak around and see her whenever they weren't out in public.

"What do you think?" She asked, a bit nervous from his silence.

"It's charming." He set his arms around her waist. "And perfect for our needs."

******************

This next sneak peek is a second part to the Liam angst I posted earlier 😬 So sorry how dark that went. Since many wanted to see how Liam is after losing Riley, Drake and Maxwell, here is some of how it is going for him. Let’s just say it isn’t easy and will take some special persuasion from those left behind to help him.

Liam ignored all of it. He went to his chambers and remained secluded from the world for days. He refused entry to anyone who knocked. He simply sat there staring at the few mementos he had of those he had lost.

He flipped through the photographs Maxwell had insisted on taking of the three of them through the years. He paused at the few his mother was in, wishing she was here now to tell him how to move on from something like this. She had encouraged his friendships with Maxwell and Drake, knowing he would need them to face life in the public eye.

And now he would never have them again.

Setting the old album aside, he reached for the key chain Riley had given him the night of the Coronation. Thinking of that night and their confessions of love only to be cruelly parted...his head dropped as he carefully set it back on the table. Next he picked up the pearl he had given her. The plans and hopes they had while meeting in secret. It had helped him through every moment he was kept from her side.

He then lifted the photograph Anna had taken of them for their engagement. Liam's fingers trembled as they brushed against the image of Riley. Her smile so warm. Her eyes so filled with joy.

Reaching for a decanter, he attempted to metaphorically drown his sorrows. In one night he had lost everything he had held dear. How was he to go on from this? There was no enemy to slay, no way to find those he loved and rescue them. Nothing. Nothing except funerals to attend. Nothing but giving them to the cold, unforgiving dirt.

All he had ahead of him was visits to graveyards. He knew his father didn't have much longer to live. It would be just one more loss in his already devastated heart.

Death was what his life had become. He had feared that when his mother was poisoned. Many a night he would wake up crying at the thought of being completely and utterly alone. This long forgotten fear rose up within him, showing that it hadn't been a mere nightmare. It had been a premonition.

Dropping his head in his hands, he sobbed into the void that had become his only companion.

****************

This next peek is a miniseries idea that will be called, Mixed Signals, that hit after that last Open Heart Chapter. It will focus on my MC Chris getting closer to Tobias (and gah, I am wishing now she could dump all the LI's and be with him. His humor and confidence have won me completely over). It will take place in both books 2 and 3 and focus on her frustration with Ethan and Bryce never committing or saying how they truly feel about her. Since, especially in the chapters before the Hawaii trip, they both would randomly act romantic towards her then friend zone her in the next scene, I'm letting this series show her choosing to step back and see what she wants and needs from a significant other. This begins after the attack and Chris has yet to return to work. She goes to Mass Kenmore to thank Tobias for coming to help find a cure for her and ends up opening up to him a bit.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tobias asked softly, gently squeezing her close.

"Not really." Chris admitted. "Everyone keeps telling me to give myself time and all." She eased back. "I wish they would leave me alone."

He kept his hands on her waist while studying her. "Then tell them."

"Ha. You've met them." She snorted. "They don't take orders like that well."

"True." He replied. "You want me to do it?" His smirk brought a grin to her face. "Ethan already considers me a pain in his ass. What's one more mark against me?"

She laughed, while dabbing at her eyes and nose. "After what you did for me? No way am I letting you continue to be the bad guy."

"Aww shucks, Valentine." Tobias teased. "You're going to give me a big head."

"As if it wasn't already big enough." She teased back. Tilting her head, she pretended to study him. "How do you lift it?"

"I work out." He winked then stood up. "I'm glad you came by."

"Me too." She held her hand out.

He shook his head. "You already hugged me. I figure that could be our thing."

"Our thing?"

Tobias pulled her back into his embrace.

"Yeah." He hugged her close. "Now that you won't let me be the big bad guy, I think this means you want us to be friends."

"Whoa. I'm merely a girl coming to thank a guy for saving her life." She teased. "Don't be thinking this means more than that."

"Sorry. Thought is already there." He countered, letting her go. "You're stuck with me now Chris whether you like it or not."

"Ugh, fine." She playfully grumbled. "I already deal with so many ego maniacs. What's one more?"

He opened his office door for her. "I knew you would agree."

"Just because you won this round doesn't mean you'll win them all, Dr. Carrick." Chris warned.

"Allow me to let you in on a little secret, Dr. Valentine," he leaned down close to whisper. "I win all the rounds that are important to me." Swiping up the folder he had previously been studying, he saluted her. "See you soon."

***************

And finally another miniseries "What if" for Thomas Hunt and my OC. I've been inspired by rewriting And Then I Met You and decided to do the same with their story in Second Chances. Here's a peek of Amanda actually telling Thomas she is pregnant instead of storming out of his office. I've yet to come up with a title I like for it, LOL, so we'll just wait on that.

Amanda ignored the words Thomas was saying. She didn't want to hear that he had fallen for an actress. All she could focus on was her pain turning into fury. How could he have moved on so quickly?

She wanted to hit him. Never in her life had she ever wanted to hurt someone so much as she did Thomas.

She felt sick to her stomach thinking about him and Kara. The nausea reminded her that she couldn't give in to her desire. She had someone else to think of. Someone who deserved every sacrifice she knew she would have to make to keep Thomas in their child's life.

"...and that's why I am sending Kara flowers." Thomas stepped closer to her when he noticed how pale she was. "Amanda?"

Her eyes lifted to his. Taking a deep breath, she blurted out the reason she came to his office.

"I'm pregnant."

She watched as her words slowly registered. The shock of her announcement caused him to collapse in the chair she had been sitting in.

"Pregnant." He breathed. "Are you certain?"

"Yes." Amanda clasped her hands in front of her. "I wouldn't have come here if I had not had it confirmed by a doctor."

Thomas knew she wouldn't have darkened his door for anything. If there was one characteristic they shared, it was pride. Neither ever wanted to appear foolish.

He got up and took a step toward her, uncertain how he was supposed to react. "What do you intend to do?"

Tears sparked her eyes. "Well, I am going to keep the baby and I hoped..." She bit her lip while lowering her eyes. Seems he had no intention to get back together with her. "I hope you will want to be a part of our child's life."

Thomas reached for her hand. Just because he wasn't sure whether or not to try a romantic relationship with her again, it didn't mean that he didn't want to be there for her.

"I will." He promised.

Her head jerked up and she noticed that there was no condemnation towards her reflected in his expression. Though the surprise announcement had knocked him for a loop, he was at least trying to do the right thing.

Though she had hoped to hear that he wanted to try again, she was vastly relieved to hear his promise.

"Are you planning on staying in L.A. for a while?" He asked.

"I could stay a few days." She wiped her tears with her fingers. A nervous laugh escaped her. "I wasn't sure if you would want me to after I told you about the baby."

"I would like to discuss how we will work this out." He squeezed her hand before urging her to sit down. "I have some meetings that I don't think I'll be able to get out of, but how about dinner tonight at my home?"

"I don't want to interrupt your date." She struggled with the word. "I can--"

"I'm not dating anyone." Thomas explained. "That's why I told you the flowers were more of a professional courtesy than romantic in nature."

"So you and Kara Bennett?" Amanda felt a brief spark of hope. "You're not--"

"No. She's one of the actresses on an upcoming film I'm directing." He replied.

"I see." She mumbled.

"Does 7:30 sound good?" He asked.

"Yes, of course."

"Should I pick you up?" He remembered she was staying at a hotel.

"No, I'll call for a car." She got to her feet again and held her hand out. "I know you have work and a lot to think over." Her lips curved into a sad smile. "But thank you for meeting with me and hearing me out."

He came around his desk and pulled her into a hug. Realizing how hard it was for her to come here, touched something within his heart. She seemed so fragile that he felt the need to comfort her.

Hugging her was the safest way in his opinion.

She trembled in his arms before returning his hug. Struggling with her tears, she laughed.

"Forgive me. I haven't had control of my emotions these last few months. These pregnancy hormones have a mind of their own."

Thomas handed her some tissues. "No need to apologize."

She thanked him as she dabbed under her eyes. "If I'm not crying then I am losing my temper. Poor Maxwell. I practically jumped down his throat for drinking the last Sprite on the way here."

His eyebrows lifted. "Maxwell came with you?"

"Everyone came with me." She shook her head in exasperation. "They were worried that you--" she winced. "They came to support me."

"I see." He replied. Reaching out, he gently grasped her arm. "I hate to rush you, but--"

"Of course." She gathered her things. "I'll see you this evening."

He smiled at her. "I look forward to it."

[xyliane]

AUgust 7: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS 12 YEAR OLD

PROMPT THE SEVENTH: CHILDHOOD FRIENDS wait how can you childhood friends au killugon, I asked myself, forgetting that I had a whole-ass idea in my drafts already. this one’s a proper fic, too (minus editing cuz l o l it’s an AU writing challenge, not editing challenge). T, aged-up killugon, modern day au. ft ambiguous descriptions of social media, alluka, kalluto, and leorio in killua’s corner, and zushi and spinner in gon’s, brief discussion of getting plastered and dealing with a hangover. 5000 words.

0o0o0o0o0

The first sign that today is going to be an absolutely terrible day, is when Killua wakes up with a hangover.

This does not happen. Killua can count on one hand the number of times he’s gotten so drunk he’s had a hangover, and most of them are the fault of his little siblings. Little siblings who are now living together, whose couch he is currently painfully existing upon, half too hot and his toes way too cold. And the couch is too soft, an old secondhand thing he’d helped Alluka grapple up the stairs months ago after they found it outside an old dorm. He makes a notch in his very sore brain to blame the current situation on them. Kalluto might be kind enough to let a drunk big brother crash with them, but Alluka has a devious streak a mile wide.

Yeah. This is definitely their fault.

One eye slowly creaks open, surveying his surroundings through blurry vision. Nothing out of the ordinary here. He’s in the pajamas he’s left with Alluka forever ago, curled up under an old blanket he gave her for Nanika’s birthday. It’s covered in the Matrix code, all green letters on black wool. It barely covers him from chest to knees, which explains the cold toes.

Sunlight flickers through the curtains, cheerful and bright, and Killua pulls the blanket over his face. He’ll take cold toes over being blinded by his headache.

The second sign that today is going to be an absolutely terrible day, is when a noise like a chainsaw burrowing through a marshmallow erupts from his phone buzzing on the coffee table, just barely out of reach.

Killua attempts to bury himself under the blanket. He’s not dealing with work today.

And then he remembers: He doesn’t have work. Work can’t bother him today. Not just because it’s a weekend—work never respected the sanctity of weekends, no matter that he was at least partially in charge and used to have a fancy degree hanging on his wall. He doesn’t have work anymore. Killua quit.

Which, well. That explains the hangover.

He’s still blaming his siblings.

His phone buzzes loud enough to break the sound barrier, and Killua decides, fuck it. He doesn’t have anything to lose. If it’s the-place-formerly-known-as-work, he can delete everything. If it’s Mom or Father, he can definitely delete everything. And maybe it’s a friendly person, congratulating him on giving up a job that for anyone else would have been an absolute money-making dream. He’ll delete those too.

It takes a few tries to unlock his phone, and it unfortunately involves opening his eyes, squinting against the glaring light of the screen. But once he does, he frowns. Maybe he’s seeing double. Or a hundredfold. Because he should not have this many notifications.

awwww cute, i hope u 2 find each other! the top one says. It has several hundred likes. Why is it in his notifications?

Scrolling down reveals that it’s not an anomaly.

wtf man how can you find a TWELVE YEAR OLD from FIFTEEN YEARS AGO.

Me and my mom went on a cruise around there once, it was really pretty!

this is so sweet T__T maybe this is him?

And then another hundred photos of brown-skinned men with varying degrees of shirt-wearing, all black haired and most of them buff in very appealing ways and all of them beaming at Killua.

“What the fuck,” Killua croaks as he scrolls through all of the images and messages. Maybe this is a dream. A really weird, hangover-induced dream about how little of a social life he has, that his phone is possessed by someone else’s. A warning of sorts, that he should never have installed any social media on his phone ever, not even for hookups.

The reason for all the notifications lies at the top of his own page. Just a few sentences, all-caps, with an image of an old crinkled photo of two boys on a tropical beach, grinning at the camera. Killua sees himself, white curly hair flying in all directions and pale skin sunburned and ruddy with the briny wind, happier than Killua can ever remember being. Next to him, one arm slung around his shoulders and the other holding a bucket full of seashells, is a brown-skinned boy with freckles dancing across his nose and the tops of his shoulders, brown eyes wide and laughing and black hair thick and spiked from some mix of wind and seawater and natural gravity defiance.

He didn’t know he still had this photo. It had followed him from childhood all the way through grad school, a carefully guarded keepsake hidden away from the watchful eyes of his parents and Illumi, before ending up in a box or a bag at some point in the last few years. Part of Killua thought he’d lost it in the move. He barely remembers much about being twelve, about the cruise he’d been forcibly dragged on. But he remembers…

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY? yells the caption. WE WERE BEST FRIENDS FOR A WEEK WHEN I GOT DRAGGED ON A CRUISE BY MY ASSHOLE PARENTS. HE WAS 12 ON WHALE ISLAND 15 YEARS AGO. IF FOUND, DM IMMEDIATELY.

“Gon,” Killua breathes.

He gathers himself, wrapping the blanket around his head in a feeble protection against the morning, and lurches over to Alluka’s room.

He gets to bang on her door three times, confused spite winning out over his own pounding headache, before Kalluto appears out of their room, blinking blearily at Killua. “Shut up.”

Killua kicks Alluka’s door for good measure, and brandishes his phone in front of him like a weapon. “Not until you explain what the hell this is doing on the internet.”

Kalluto pales, then flushes, then pales again. “Oh. Um.”

At that, Alluka creaks her door open, guilty blue eyes far too awake for how close to noon it is. Killua kind of wants to kill her on principle alone. If he has to be hungover, so does everyone else.

“Explain,” he grinds out through his teeth.

The third and final sign that today is going to be an absolutely terrible day, is when Alluka puts on her most winning smile, the kind she uses to ward off angry customers and idiotic faux-academics on the internet. “Congratulations, Brother! I might have made you go viral.”

Killua throws his phone at her.

—————

Today’s going to be a good day, Gon decides. He’s been in the forests of East Gorteau for the better part of a month, which normally isn’t so bad. But this group has been…They’re nice enough, when Gon’s not spending half of his time explaining that, no, that species of plant does not make a good stew, and no, that species is endangered please don’t hunt them, and yes Gon is sure he doesn’t date his clients even after the hike, and no the reason the tent fell over again is because it wasn’t properly set up in the first place—

All of Aunt Mito’s complaints about tourists on Whale Island make so much more sense, now that Gon’s leading backwoods hikes.

But last night had been fun! Spinner had met the group at a pre-set campsite not far from their pickup so Gon hadn’t had to work the whole night, and he could relax with his friend over good food, more alcohol than he probably should have drunk, and not having to explain to Mrs. Yuldvin the difference between marijuana, buckeye, and poison oak again. Spinner had even taken care of the fire, although she had left him to rescue the Podomos siblings from the ruins of their tent with nothing more than a smirk and a wave. Nevertheless, Gon smiled through his headache all morning, because soon he’ll be home, and he can sleep.

Zushi is waiting in the parking lot once Gon’s done packing up the last of the gear and saying goodbye to Spinner, jeep idling while he flicks through his phone, thick eyebrows drawn together in increasing concern. He doesn’t even look up until Gon drops his pack onto the hood of the car, and he jolts so badly in surprise that he tosses his phone in the air.

“Are you okay?” Gon asks, and tries to peek at the screen.

Zushi pulls it up and away, a frantic look in his eyes. It won’t really keep Gon from seeing what’s happening, not if he wants to, but Zushi’s height is enough of a deterrent to make it hard. “You were gone way too long,” he says.

Gon leans against the hot metal of Zushi’s car. It wasn’t an unusual length for a trip, not really—this backcountry needs the length to be able to see and understand the region. Not to mention the Small Billed Swan preservation society keeping the whole place locked down except to authorized guides and trekkers. Zushi knows this. They’ve been roommates long enough that this isn’t even the longest time Gon’s been gone.

“You knew I’d be gone til today,” Gon says.

“Yeah, but…” Zushi’s eyebrows descend even further, scrunching his whole face up in worry. “You haven’t checked your phone, right?”

“No?” Even if he did have cell service, Gon never brings his own phone. He borrows Kite’s satellite phone, because it is more reliable and doesn’t need to be charged constantly.

“Okay. Well.” Zushi takes a deep breath, then another, one of Wing’s old meditation techniques. Despite his exhaustion and single-minded determination to sink into a real bed and sleep for a week, Gon feels a minor pang of worry. On breath three, he unlocks his phone and turns it towards Gon. “You’re a meme.”

On Zushi’s screen is a photo Gon can’t ever forget about. Backed by Whale Island’s sunbleached white beaches and the humid brilliant colors of summer, Gon sees himself—twelve, smiling from ear to ear, hair a mess from swimming and his shirt practically covered in sand from digging up all the seashells in his bucket. He’s got an arm around another boy, who’s caught mid-laugh so his blue eyes burn the same color as the sky, white curls even messier than Gon’s hair. They look like they’ve known each other their whole lives, like they’d still be best friends even if they haven’t seen or spoken to each other since the photo was taken.

Gon hopes Killua thinks so, too.

He cradles the phone in his hand, carefully zooming in on their faces and the errant crinkles visible through the photo. His own faded copy is in a drawer, having survived a whole trip around the world and countless apartment jumps. This one looks just as well cared for, in its own way.

“That…is you, right?” Zushi asks carefully. “Because Wing was asking, and half of Kite’s guide company is yelling about it on your social media page that you don’t even use, and now people are messaging me, and they’re saying the weirdest things, and the post is from last week, so—”

“It’s Killua,” Gon says. A smile spreads across his face, a mirror to the one he’d had when he was twelve. “That’s Killua!”

“Who?” the others ask, but Gon isn’t listening.

He spins, frantically searching his pockets for his phone. “Spinner, can you do me a favor?”

She narrows her eyes suspiciously.

Gon knew today was going to be a good day.

—————

It’s been a week, and Killua has quit all social media forever.

The steady buzz of his phone informing the apartment of his notifications is not his problem. Alluka’s the one who decided to hack into his phone and post something to his old public account, the one he mostly uses for photos of cats and complaining about terrible business precedents. He hasn’t posted much since school, and if anything, it should have simply vanished into the void of the internet.

He finds the culprit fairly quickly, and for once it’s not his sister’s moderate but dedicated video following.

“Old man, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Leorio lounges in Alluka and Kalluto’s living room, freshly out of his scrubs and looking pleased as all hell. “I just reblogged a fun post from my friend,” he says somewhat defensively. “You were a cute kid, Killua. What happened?”

Killua feels a growl creep up his throat. “You can’t just do that,” he snaps.

“It’s not my fault the people like my well-coiffed but rugged appearance and dedication to social justice in medicine.”

“You have 500,000 followers because you made a joke post two years ago, and some authorized user reblogged it five times. It has nothing to do with your ugly mug.” If Killua squints and plugs his ears, he can even see why people think Leorio’s attractive or whatever: tan skin, lean but strong as hell, actually takes care of his hair, not to mention a damn good doctor with one of the most prestigious institutions in Yorknew who spends most of his free time running health clinics in impoverished neighborhoods. That’s all swell. But then he starts talking, and Killua has no idea where the off button is.

Leorio spreads a hand out, gesturing vaguely with the glass of iced tea that he’d helped himself to out of Alluka’s stash. “It has everything to do with my ‘ugly mug,’” he says. “Which is why I used my powers for good and spread your post. Don’t you want to find him?”

“Not like this!”

“You were not going to find him at all,” Kalluto’s quiet voice pipes up from the kitchen. They have night classes tonight, but Killua has a feeling that even if they were supposed to be attending their Yorknew Uni lectures, they would still be here making Killua’s life worse. “You’ve had that picture for years, and you did not even try to look.”

Leorio gives him a judgmental look over the tops of his stupid tiny glasses. “You haven’t?”

It would be a losing game to bury his burning face in one of the throw pillows, so Killua does his best to cross his arms over his chest and glower instead. “I…tried.”

“And?”

“I don’t even know his last name!” Killua splutters. “I didn’t have his number or where he was from, other than his mom worked on the ship. And that cruiseline went bankrupt and liquidated everything before I could get out of the house, so I couldn’t even look that up.”

Kalluto crosses over from the kitchen and perches like a sweatshirt-wearing crow on the coffee table, their blue eyes carefully neutral under straight black bangs. “Alluka and Nanika would have helped. Or even Milluki, if you had explained the situation.”

“I was eighteen, okay? I just left home, and our parents were still being…shit, themselves, I guess.” He hadn’t even considered asking for help. Then again, he’d tried the moment he could, that first summer of undergrad where he didn’t have to come home and Illumi couldn’t spend half his time breathing down the back of Killua’s neck. He had a general idea of where they’d gone, maps of islands scurried away in the closet with the old photo and a bag full of seashells Gon had given him as a going-away present.

They’d been friends for a week, in the whirlwind way that only kids can be. The cruise ship was massive, and Killua’s parents were in meetings half the time and playing nice with the other rich people on board the other half. Killua had been bored witless, and Gon was everything he couldn’t have possibly imagined: encouraging Killua to go exploring, to stealing food from the kitchens, making him help clean up the decks, playing cards with the deckhands. Sneaking off the boat to visit an island without Killua’s parents while the ship was docked, scrambling over the burning hot sands and dashing through the jungle, diving into the waves fully clothed and competing to see who could find the biggest prettiest shells. Gon’d been Killua’s first friend, his first crush, his first…a lot of firsts.

Then the cruise had ended, and Killua forgot to give Gon his phone number. His address. Anything. They’d been so swept up in being friends, being best friends, it had seemed impossible that they would never see each other again.

Does Gon even remember? Why should he, when Killua hasn’t contacted him? Would they even be friends anymore?

Maybe he hadn’t searched hard enough. But part of Killua thinks he shouldn’t have tried at all.

The phone buzzes loudly, and Killua tries not to flinch.

“Hey, Killua. It’s okay.” Leorio leans forward, hands clasped over his too-long limbs and expression gentle. “If you want me to delete it, I will. Not sure I can help with the viral part of things, except maybe go through your messages and delete the gross ones, or at least find the weirdest ones for you to laugh at later.”

“Alluka and I have been doing this already,” Kalluto says, their posture a little too protective for Killua’s raw nerves at this point. “But perhaps you have some suggestions for what to do next, Dr. Paladiknight?”

Leorio smiles sympathetically. “Don’t read the comments? That said, most of your comments have been much more positive than anything I usually post. The masses seem to be genuinely rooting for you, kid.”

“I have only had to delete a dozen lewd messages for you this morning,” Kalluto adds, not mentioning the hundred or so that Alluka took care of yesterday.

Killua’s traitorous phone buzzes again, and that’s it. Time to bury himself in a pillow. Killua flops onto the couch, narrowly missing Leorio, and does his best to burrow into the cushions. “That’s just great,” he says into the fabric.

A comforting hand rubs against his hair, messing up the curls for a moment, and Killua refuses to admit that it’s nice, that he has friends like Leorio who even bother to care. “It could be worse. You could be dealing with this while still working a soul-sucking job making more money than most of us will see in our lifetimes, in exchange for giving up all of your morals.”

Killua groans loudly. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“You’re gonna need to do something, Killua! And hey, I might be able to set something up with my—”

“I already told you, no.”

“But it’s what you’re good at. And you wouldn’t be fucking people over to do it.”

“No.”

“Just listen for one—”

Killua lifts his head enough to glare as murderously as he can at Leorio. It must work at least a little, because the doctor shuts up.

Meanwhile, Kalluto is scrolling through Killua’s phone, poking at the screen occasionally. In the awkward silence, their sharp gasp is loud enough to shatter a window, and they hurriedly shove the phone in the pocket of their oversized sweatshirt.

Leorio raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

Kalluto squeezes their eyes shut for a moment, then carefully places the phone on the coffee table, screen pointed innocently at the ceiling. “You will want to look at this one, Brother.”

“This isn’t another erotic sandcastle is it?” he says.

Kalluto shakes their head, and Killua’s stomach lurches up his throat. Alluka has been the one excited about this whole thing. But Kalluto, as reserved as they are, is a massive romantic. The whole thing might be Alluka’s fault, but Killua knows it’s Kalluto who almost lets themselves believe it’ll work. Despite all of the false positives, the people who send messages that don’t sound right or photos that have the wrong smile.

Killua doesn’t want to hope. It can’t possibly be Gon. But his hands shake nonetheless as he unlocks his phone and finds a new message in his DMs.

It’s not from Gon.

Instead, someone with the icon of a small-billed white swan in a soft small-billed hat and a handle of @flymypretties has sent a photo of a brown-skinned man with spiky black hair absolutely covered in dirt and grime. He’s waving at the camera, a backpacking bag propped against his shoulder and the widest smile Killua has ever seen beaming straight through the screen and into his chest. Next to him and half out of frame, a tall tanned man with massive black eyebrows and a tank top showing off an impressive amount of muscle has his head in his hands. Killua feels a sharp stab of sympathy, somewhere buried beneath the racing of his heart.

look im sorry about this but this idiot can’t find his phone and we r kind of in the middle of nowhere so reception’s shit. he wants to know if you admit he found the biggest seashell on the beach, whatever that means.

For a long, long moment—seconds? minutes maybe?—Killua can do nothing but stare at the screen of his phone. Leorio and Kalluto both look at him with a mix of curiosity and worry, Kalluto starting to slowly reach for the phone.

In a completely childish protective moment, Killua grabs it against his chest, like the image will vanish if he doesn’t keep it close.

“Is it…?” Leorio asks.

Killua swallows heavily, trying to think around the roaring of the ocean in his ears. “I think so,” he says faintly.

Kalluto’s eyes widen, and they spin on their heels towards their room. “I’m calling Alluka!”

—————

“Has he responded?”

“No!”

“…what about now?”

Spinner throws her hands in the air so violently that her hat falls off. “For god’s sake, Gon, it’s been an hour, you don’t even have your phone, and you still need to go home.”

Gon huffs and pouts. They’re still in the parking lot over an hour after the rest of the trekking group has left, and all the exhaustion that had settled into Gon’s body from the tour has been turned into a jittery energy that keeps trying to leak out from under his skin. He wants to go home immediately and dig out his copy of the photo, rub out the old fingerprints he and Aunt Mito have left on it over the years. He wants to find his phone and message Killua directly. He wants to wait right here until Killua responds, no matter how long it takes.

He knows it’s childish, to be this selfish. Spinner has work to do, work that she already put on hold to help with the last day of the tour. Kite probably will want to know what’s happening, or at least why his lead guide and his chief guide organizer have been stuck in a parking lot. And Gon can practically feel Zushi’s obsessive scrolling through social media, frantically trying to navigate Gon’s feeds without actually having access.

Gon needs to find his phone.

“Spinner, what if—”

It’s not that Spinner’s a large woman. Out of the three people standing in the parking lot, Zushi’s far and away the strongest, even if he is about as threatening as a large, muscular teddy bear. And Gon has only packed on weight and muscle over his years of backpacking around the wilderness, no matter that he’s not super tall. But Spinner goes for longer, harder treks on her own than anyone but Kite, and she packs in her own climbing gear on top of that, so when she tosses Gon into the back of Zushi’s jeep, he flies.

“Zushi,” she says in a low exhausted snarl, and he jumps right off the hood of his car. Gon probably would have felt bad for him, if everything wasn’t spinning. “If you do not take your roommate home, I am not responsible for the consequences.”

“What if you hear back?” Gon groans around the aches in his side.

Spinner rolls her eyes, and Gon knows she’s just tired. “I’ll let you know.”

“But what if my phone’s gone? What will I do if someone stole it, or if I can’t—”

“I’ll call you go home already,” she says, and slams the door shut on his face.

For a long moment, the only sound is Spinner storming away, boots thudding heavily in the dirt until her car door slams.

The jeep shifts slightly as Zushi quietly lowers himself into the driver’s seat and puts the key into the ignition. Gon wants to tell him to follow Spinner, so she can yell out the window as soon as Killua gets back to her. But Zushi looks about ready to bolt. So Gon slumps back in the seat, the rumble of tires crunching through gravel making his already jittery nerves shake.

A small voice that sounds a lot like Kite tells Gon that it’s better to wait, that it will be easier to have a conversation and determine if this really is Killua after a rest and a shower.

Gon doesn’t want that, though. He wants…

It’s been a long time since he was on Whale Island. Longer still since he saw Killua. That doesn’t mean he stopped thinking about either of them, during the quiet moments out under the stars. They’re part of him, like his lungs are part of him—essential and irreplaceable, buried so far inside that removing them would change him irrevocably.

What is Killua like now? Is Gon just as important to him as he is to Gon? He has to be. Right?

They make it home without saying anything else. Gon floats in and out between bone-deep weariness and electric sparks of nervous joy, and Zushi flinches every time Gon jolts himself from one to the other.

“Hey, are you…I mean, maybe not okay, but.”

Gon lifts his chin up sharply at the sound of his roommate’s voice, and notices the familiar apartment complex in front of him. Oh, they’re home. “I’m good,” he says, and grins.

“Sure,” Zushi says like he doesn’t believe Gon.

A dubious silence stretches out between them as they gather the rest of the gear, dropping it in a heap on the sidewalk. “You were kids, though,” Zushi finally says.

Gon shrugs and slams the door shut hard enough to make the vehicle rattle. “I didn’t forget. So I don’t think Killua would, either.”

Zushi’s eyebrows wrinkle on each other, like they can’t decide whether to go up or down and settle on some combination of the two. “What if he did?”

“He didn’t,” Gon says, more sure of that than anything else in his life.

Zushi’s eyebrows dance again, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Between Gon’s camping gear and Zushi’s leftover practice pads, it takes longer than Gon’s excitement can take to get everything settled enough to look for his phone. Well, Gon would have liked to look for his phone, but Zushi makes a pointed look at the shower. There are only so many places the phone could be in the whole apartment, after all.

Gon’s just drying off when Zushi knocks on the door. “I found it, but it’s dead,” he says, voice muffled.

“Then charge it!” Gon shouts. After a moment, he adds, quieter and less snappishly, “Please?”

A faint laugh echoes through the apartment.

By the time Gon can make himself a very early dinner of whatever he could grab out of the cabinets without thinking, the phone is charged enough to turn on. Sure enough, there are a wide variety of messages, mostly from Kite’s groupchat asking about the viral post. A few are from former hikers, people who Gon liked enough to share contact info, offering to see if they can get in touch. There are even a few—okay, how did they get ahold of his old social media page? It’s practically defunct, since Gon’s never had a phone capable of more than the most basic apps. And those are…

It’s flattering in a way, but Gon’s not really into that. Or them.

Zushi catches sight of the grimace, and takes one look over Gon’s shoulder before turning beet red.

By the time he’s gone through and deleted the vast majority of what had been filling up his phone, there’s still no message from Spinner, and nothing at all from Killua. Gon sighs and lies his head down on the table with a heavy thunk.

The other chair scrapes heavily along the tiles as Zushi sits, a mug of coffee in his hands. “What will you do? When he messages you, I mean.”

When, not if, an unexpected certainty coming from Zushi. Gon has the best friends in the world. “Talk to him,” Gon says. “It’s only been fifteen years, right? We promised we’d be friends forever.”

“A lot changes in fifteen years,” Zushi says.

“Not that.”

“Then why didn’t you look for him?”

Gon frowns. It had taken a long, long time, but Aunt Mito managed to track down the cruise captain the last time they were in port, tracing through old charters until the right names came up. But when she’d called them up, she’d been met with stonewall after stonewall, pleasant-sounding voices insisting in no uncertain terms that she would never speak with a member of Killua’s family, let alone let her son speak to his friend. By the time Gon was old enough to look himself, he found nothing but a mansion full of people whose eyes matched Killua’s in everything except for his warmth, who refused to even acknowledge Gon’s presence except to throw him out.

That had been years ago. It’s not that Gon stopped looking. Not exactly.

“I did, but I—” Gon starts to say, but his phone buzzes violently against the table, and they both jump out of their chairs.

“Is it—?” Zushi asks, breath in his throat.

It’s a message from Spinner. you owe me big time, kid, she says, followed by a phone number.

Gon rips his phone off the cable, a wide smile spreading across his face. “It is,” he says, and dials Killua.

—————

bzz bzz—

bzz bzz—

bzz b—

“H-hello?”

“Killua! Hi!”

“…Gon? Is that—It’s really…?”

“Killua, it’s you, I thought I’d never—”

“I did find the biggest seashell, and you know it.”

A breath, sharp and astonished. “The blue and white one, with green lines.”

“I found it, and I gave it to you.”

“I still have it.”

A snort of amusement, slightly damp. “I know. You promised you’d keep it.”

“I did. And I promised—”

“That we’d be friends forever.”

A laugh, delighted and teary at the same time. “I knew you remembered.”

“I did promise you that I would.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

(AUgust prompts)

[acciomanorian]

Costume Shopping

Hey y’all. Here’s another piece that I’ve been working on for Folktober for @jurdannet @jurdannetrevels. Prompt Day 20 (mortal world) Costume Shopping combined with Day 18 (Elfhame) “maybe being a monster was my calling”. I hope everybody enjoys and don’t be afraid to leave comments, reblog, and just in general tell me what you thing. Love y’all 🖤🖤!

“I really fucking hate Halloween.” Cardan and Jude had joined Heather, Vivienne, and Oak on their search for costumes for the holiday, and this was the fifth time that Vivi had scared her girlfriend in the hour since they’ve been in the store. 

“I don’t,” Cardan grinned as he helped his future sister-in-law up from where she had fallen on the ground. “In fact, it might just be my favorite mortal holiday. Can you guess why?” 

“Because you can wear your tail!” Cardan shot Jude a look, not expecting her to have shouted out an answer that loud, especially when she wasn’t even the one being addressed. He shouldn’t have been surprised though, his darling Jude was always placing herself in conversations where she was unneeded, or unwanted.

He had to take a double take as Cardan looked over at his girlfriend, caught unaware by the mask covering her face. Half of the mask looked normal, just a face, pretty, but not in comparison to his Jude. The other half, however, was all bloody and ripped apart, a rubber knife sticking out where the eyebrow should be. It was probably the scariest mask Cardan had ever seen on his wife, the fear only accented by the assortment of weapons, all real, that Jude had strapped over her body. Of course, there would be no glamours for Jude in a Halloween store, when everybody would think that the weapons were fake.

As he stared at Jude, Cardan felt a tugging on his coat, and he looked down to find Oak staring up at him. “Cardan, doesn���t Jude look really scary? Doesn’t she look awesome?” At 11 years old, he was very excited to celebrate his third Halloween in the mortal world. Much like Cardan, Oak loved that he didn’t have to wear glamours covering his horns, and he could be himself without anybody giving him weird looks. It was the same for Cardan, who purposely chose costumes for this holiday that accented his tail. 

“Yeah, Oak, she looks just like a monster.” Jude pulled off the mask and stuck her tongue out at Cardan, even as she grabbed another monstrous mask, this one mimicking the clown from the mortal movie series, It, with Jude had dragged him to a year ago. 

“Maybe being my monster is my calling. It would certainly explain my affinity for weapons.” 

“Indeed it would, my sweet villain.” Cardan reached over to plant a kiss on Jude’s lips, as she hummed her approval. 

“Ew! Gross! Jude, why are you torturing me. I’m supposed to be your favorite brother.” Oak shook his hand, faking a gag even as he laughed. 

“You’re my only brother, you fool.” Jude laughed along with her brother, the sound filling Cardan with joy. He loved these moments, watching Jude relax and joke with her family, something she rarely does in Elfhame. 

“Hey Oak, look at what I found!” Vivi appeared from between a rack of costumes, holding up a superhero costume, Bat-something, but Cardan couldn’t be too sure. 

“Is that a Batman costume?” Oak asked excitedly. “That’s what I want to be for Halloween! Thanks Vivi, you’re the best!” Vivi smiled broadly, as Jude stuck her tongue out in their direction. 

Gods, Jude’s tongue. Cardan could think about that tongue forever, especially places where she could put it, places- Nope, this wasn’t the time or place for these thoughts. As Cardan returned to the present, he noticed everybody looking at him. 

“Did I miss something?” There was a glimmer in Jude’s eyes, but it was Heather who asked the question, from where she was standing, Vivi’s arm around her waist.

“What are you going to be for Halloween?” 

“Myself, of course, in all my wicked faerieness.” He smirked, mostly for Jude’s amusement. It worked, because she laughed, before moving to his side, the masks on the shelf forgotten. 

“Then maybe I’ll be myself, hmm. How does ‘Sexy Killer Queen’ sound?” Cardan certainly liked the sound of that. 

“As long as there aren’t any masks concerned, I’m in full support. Now, if you plan on wearing a mask, we might have to have a discussion.” Jude only pinched his ass, causing Cardan to flinch a little. The pain wasn’t unpleasant, and from the look on Jude’s face, she was certainly going to be using the move in the bedroom tonight. 

“Yeah, Viv, no scary costumes,” Heather said. “Let’s do something sweet, like peanut butter and jelly, or salt and pepper.”

“But Heather, salt is scary for me,” Vivi laughed. “Let’s join Oak and his super hero antics. Do you want to be Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy?” She hugged her girlfriend, a pout on her face, but a laugh in her eyes. 

Heather grinned, Oak yelling out in excitement over the fact that his second moms were going to join his theme. Cardan laughed, ruffling Oaks hair, feeling his little horns even though they were glamoured from sight. 

With costumes in hand, Cardan and Jude excluded since theirs were going to come out of their own closets, the group made their way to the register. Heather paid, being the only one with honest, mortal money and they exited the shop.

Oak sighed, “Vivi, can I wear my costume now? I want to be a super hero forever.”

“Sorry buddy, but Halloween is still a week away… You’ll have to wait so that it doesn’t get dirty or rip.” 

Oak hung his head, “Okay.” It was sad, and Cardan felt the impulse to give the small boy a hug. He did, of course, and Jude did too before they parted ways, Heather, Vivi, and Oak towards their apartment, while Jude and Cardan returned to Elfhame. 

One more week. Cardan couldn’t wait.

If you want to be tagged, send me an ask… some of you aren’t permanent tags, but if you want to be, just tell me. I hope you all enjoyed!

@fantasyfox101

@ireallyshouldsleeprn

@theoceanfaewriter

@snusbandxknifewife

@angelofmusic223

@slightlyrebelliouswriter23

@clockworkgraystairs

@illyrianwitchling

@b00kworm

@poeticbrownmermaid

@misskillerdarkness

@emmabookworm08

@jurdanhell

[snusbandxknifewife]

STICKY FICKY 4

Y’all, I’m sorry lmao yes I really did write this shit and yes I’m really posting it 😂 Do y’all have any idea how hard it is to write budding attraction in a crack fic about fucking sticky hands? Somebody save me

~~~~~~~~~

Jude Duarte, Seneschal to the High King of Elfhame, didn’t often find herself intoxicated. Whether it be from lacking access to wine that could be considered safe for mortals, or from lacking the time and opportunity to truly enjoy that wine, alcohol was the one poison she didn’t regularly partake of.

But, she supposed there was a time for everything, and the time for Jude to angrily drown her sorrows in wine had come today.

Cardan Greenbriar, High King of Elfhame and perpetual pain in her ass, had taken it upon himself to get uproariously drunk and offend a visiting dignitary or seven from the lower courts at that night’s revel. Leaving his Seneschal to pick up the pieces, he’d then retired to his rooms with an orgy’s volume of people and promptly lit his bed on fire. Again.

So after a night spent putting fire after literal fire out, Jude had decided to bead down to the Court of Shadows and burrow her way to the bottom of a bottle. She’d been remarkably successful, chasing off even the Roach, who was typically quite willing to help one drink to forget.

Nearly five months with Cardan under her control had already passed, her one year and one day was almost halfway over and she didn’t have even the slightest clue of how to extend her hold on him or keep the crown on his head past that day. As she buried her face in her hands, the world still spinning even behind her closed eyelids, she started to wonder if it was even worth thinking about while this drunk.

“You’re thinking loudly enough to raise the dead.”

She startled as a familiar object wrapped around one of her wrists, a sticky hand lightly smacking against her cheek before unraveling and flying back towards where the High King leaned against the doorway. She hadn’t even heard him come in, she must have reached record levels of intoxication.

As she looked over towards him, hoping he hadn’t noticed how he’d surprised her, her heart fell. The cruel smirk plastered across his lips told her everything she needed to know, though the red stains of wine dripping down his moon-pale skin were abundant enough to give her hope he wouldn’t remember in the morning.

“Why do you always have that wretched thing on you?” She lowered her hands and reached for her wine bottle, leaning back so far in her chair that she almost fell.

“Oh my darling god, you should know it’s always a new one,” he said with a smile, pulling his own wine bottle from behind his back and advancing towards her.

She didn’t comment as he took a seat across the stone table, propping up his feet and downing a swig of wine in solidarity.

His tail swished violently, coming to rest on top of his ankles with the soft tuft tap-tap-tapping against the top of one of his boots. She found herself almost hypnotized by the movement, staring at it for gods only knew how long.

“Your tail is out,” she finally lamely offered when she noticed him grinning at her, his teeth looking all the more sharpened in her intoxicated state.

“That tends to happen when I undress.”

She hoped he didn’t notice how her eyebrow twitched in annoyance with that announcement. She knew he’d been up in his rooms with an impressive amount of people, she’d figured he’d been partaking in some rather lascivious acts. Why should she be surprised he would’ve been undressed?

Why was she jealous?

“I’d think that, if I had a tail, I’d prefer to keep the delicate little thing hidden safely away from fires,” she announced, looking away from his face just in time to catch his tail curling around his abdomen almost fearfully. “And curious courtiers who would pull at it.”

“Would you pull at my tail, my darling Jude?” She didn’t look up at his words, not interesting in seeing any mocking on his face.

She turned the bottom of her drink skyward, chasing bubbles as they floated up into the abysmally empty bottle. The green glass cast a delicate, mossy hue over her amber eyes, making the High King suck his breath in.

“After what you did tonight, I’d pull your tail off and eat it raw in front of you,” she blamed the wine for her rash words as she fixed her gaze back on Cardan. He winced, one hand going protectively to the tuft of his tail and the other swinging wide, sending his sticky hand straight for her.

She also blamed the wine for how she didn’t move fast enough, for how she let that pink sticky hand—glittery this time, a gift Oak had been particularly excited to send—hit her dead center in the forehead.

THWAP

“Oh my sweet little villain, don’t torture me with promises of pleasure that you don’t plan to follow through with,” he recovered quickly, his tail unwrapping and coming back to rest stop his shoes. “And, I beg of you, don’t bother me with talk of courtiers and politics when my head swims so.”

“And what would you have me to instead?” She snorted at him and then did her very best to ignore his momentary flash of emotion.

“Play with me.” He sent the sticky hand flying.

And, this time, she caught it without thinking.

His eyes sparkled with mischief as they sat, time suspended, a gods damned sticky hand the only thing between them.

Then he unlooped the hand from around his finger, letting it fly towards her.

She looked down, studying it for a moment before giving in and looping the toy around the index finger of her right hand. Then, she looked back up, cocked her arm back, let the hand fly—

And missed terribly.

Cardan let out a roar of laughter, the sound shocking in the surrounding silence of the empty room. As her face contorted in a scowl and she tried again—and missed again—he continued laughing at her, his cruel little laugh sounding far too pretty to her intoxicated self.

“Who would’ve thought the master marksman would be bested by a cheap gadget of her own world’s making?” As he mocked her, his grin looking painfully similar to the one he wore when he spoke of her looks the day of the failed coronation, she continued to get irrationally more angry. She kept trying to hit him, kept failing, kept letting the sticky hand whiff through the air.

Then she would’ve landed a hit on his shoulder, but he’d already moved to a standing position—far too gracefully for his drunken state, at least in her opinion.

He offered her a hand and she looked up in confusion, her brow raised at him.

“Allow me to help you properly wield a sticky hand,” he said. “I can’t have my Seneschal and lead spy so woefully incapable of handling a weapon.”

It must’ve been the wine coursing through her system, but she decided to take his hand. She let him pull her to a standing position and lead her into the weapons room where targets lined the walls. She let him position himself behind her, his chest strong against her back and his soft breathing tickling the hair that had come loose from her plaits.

He ran a hand down her arm before encompassing her fist in his own, his other arm laid across hers and keeping her pressed into his embrace.

“It’s a lot like skipping rocks,” he whispered in her ear, pulling her throwing arm back with his own and angling her elbow properly. “You have to envision where you want the hand to hit.”

THWAP

Together they sent the glittery pink sticky hand directly at the target’s bullseye.

Jude tried to ignore how her heart sped up, how her breathing became labored, how Cardan’s tail rose to wrap around her middle. She couldn’t help the shiver she let out as the soft tuft on the end ran across the sensitive inside of her elbow. Behind her, the High King tilted his head, feeling the brush of her hair against his cheek and allowing his eyes to flutter closed.

THWAP

Another bullseye

THWAP

The hand slapped against the hilt of a sword, cast aside by someone too lazy to put it up.

THWAP

What was she doing? Was her head swimming from the alcohol or from the scent of him?

THWAP

“That’s much better,” he praised and her heart absolutely ached with something she wasn’t prepared to understand.

She stepped out of his embrace rather forcefully, trying to hide how her steps shook and her breathing was coming in ragged bursts. He was watching her discomfort with sad eyes and a smile just like the one he wore when she tied him up all those moons ago.

“I’ve an early day tomorrow,” she lied, turning on her heel and fleeing.

She ignored the empty wine bottles on the table as she passed, ignored the pounding in her head and the way the world lurched with every turn. When she made it back to her rooms and slammed the secret door behind her, she didn’t even think to take off her boots before crawling into bed.

She couldn’t remember what had been said at the revel that night, she didn’t know what her duties were for the next day, she couldn’t recall if the king’s chambers had been burned earlier that day or the one before. She was so lost in her drink and confusion that memories and dreams bled together, none of them feeling even remotely right or real.

And when she woke the next morning with a head pounding so badly that she went racing for a chamberpot to be sick in, she didn’t remember why a pink glittery sticky hand was wrapped around her right index finger.

~~~~~~~~

I was trying to channel the pottery making scene from Ghost but it didn’t work lmao have some straight up ShitTM from lex you’ll get angst and pining next update I promise so PREPARE YOURSELVES

Tag list: @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @hizqueen4life @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thewickedkings @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @cheekycheekycheeks @queen-of-glass @b00kworm @doingmyrainbow

[flowerfan2]

Part of You Indefinitely - Ch. 3

Chapter 3 is up!  Read it here or on A03.

Summary:  An accident sends Patrick to the hospital and terrifies David.  What follows changes their relationship in ways David and Patrick never imagined.  A story of love and its challenges.

Chapter 3

When Alexis returns, she tries to make David get out of Patrick’s bed, but David won’t do it.  It feels far too good to be sitting pressed up against Patrick, his body warm and alive against his side.  They compromise by raising the head of the bed until they are mostly sitting up, Patrick leaning against David’s shoulder as David hand feeds him tiny bites of cinnamon roll.

Things are going well enough until a nurse comes in to look at Patrick’s head wound, and it turns out that Alexis is the only one besides the nurse who can face the thought of stitches in Patrick’s scalp without getting dizzy.

“It’s really not that bad, Patrick,” Alexis says lightly, shoving her compact mirror back in her bag after David screeches at her to put it away.  “When your hair grows back, the scar will be completely hidden.”

“My hair?” Patrick asks.  “What did they do to my hair?”

Alexis purses her lips at him.  “I suppose you could keep that part short, David loves that 90’s asymmetric style-”

“There will be none of that,” David interrupts, propping a hip on Patrick’s bed and running his fingers gently through the untouched hair on the top of Patrick’s head.  “It’s just a little trimmed patch above your ear.  It’ll grow back in no time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me they shaved my head?  It must look ridiculous.”  Patrick looks at David, betrayed, and it’s all David can do not to laugh.  For once it isn’t David being vain.

“It’s hardly your whole head.  Your boy next door good looks are still intact.”  David kisses Patrick’s frowning lips, which seems to satisfy him for the moment.

“Eww, David.”

“Shut it, Alexis.  I’ll kiss my handsome husband whenever I like.”

Alexis tilts her head at them, and then leans down and smacks a quick kiss on Patrick’s cheek, making him blush.  “He is pretty cute, even with a shaved head.”  She stands up, grinning at them and tossing her own luscious waves – adding insult to injury, David thinks.   If someone shaved Alexis’ head without her permission there’d be hell to pay.   “I’m going to go find us some lunch.  Try to keep it PG while I’m gone.”

****

Patrick’s mood sours as the afternoon wears on.  When the physical therapist comes in to evaluate him, Patrick glares at David until David leaves the room.  David splits the next hour between pacing the hallway and answering texts from his parents, who have already flown halfway home from Fiji and are in the airport in L.A., waiting for their flight to Toronto.  He uses every trick he can think of to convince them not to come, including telling Moira that Schitt’s Creek has implemented a ban on wigs, but they board the flight anyway.  David follows this up with a quick text exchange with Jocelyn, who promises to pick his parents up at the airport and keep them away from the hospital for as long as possible.

When David is finally allowed back into the room, Patrick is having his dinner.  As David watches, Patrick fumbles with a fork, unable to get even one piece of the overcooked pasta from the bowl to his mouth.  The orderly makes a noise of disapproval, taking the fork out of Patrick’s hand and trying to feed him, at which point Patrick squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head into the pillow.

“All right, that’s enough,” David says.  “You, leave the food and clear out.”

“Patrick needs to eat-”

“And you need to go somewhere you’re wanted.  Shoo.”  David waves his hand at the orderly until he leaves, practically tsk-tsking as he goes.

David takes a deep breath and rests one hip against the bed, giving Patrick time to regain his composure.

“I don’t need to be fed like a child,” Patrick finally mumbles into the pillow.

“I know,” David says.

“It’s humiliating.”

“I’m sorry.”

David scoots a little closer to Patrick and Patrick slides his head from the pillow to David’s thigh.  “I want to go home,” Patrick says, his voice tight.

“Tomorrow, right?”

“They’re not sure.”  There’s a pause, and when Patrick continues, he’s clearly hating every word.  “They said I have to be able to transfer from the bed to a chair, and do better with meals.”

“Why?”

Patrick rolls his head, his eyes blinking up at David.  “Why?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?  So I can take care of myself,” Patrick says angrily.

“But I can take care of you,” David says, still not seeing the problem.

“You can’t,” Patrick replies.  “You have the store, and you’ll have to work even longer hours since I won’t be able to help.”

“I’ll take time off.  Patrick, come on, you really think I’m going to leave you at home alone when you’re like this?”

Unfortunately this doesn’t have the desired effect, apparently just emphasizing how helpless Patrick is right now.

“It doesn’t matter.  They’re going to send me to a rehab facility.”

It’s starting to sink in that David has missed quite a lot of information, and while a few days of rehab doesn’t sound like the worst possible thing, it’s clear that Patrick is truly shaken.

“Let me talk to them.  They can’t force you – you’re not in jail.  I’ll just take you home.”

“David, you don’t want to be stuck with me like this,” Patrick says bitterly.  “I can barely wipe my ass.  There’s no fucking choice, I have to go.”

“Patrick,” David says, rapidly realizing that things are going downhill faster than he can catch up.  If nothing else, Patrick’s use of profanity gives away how distraught he is.   “You aren’t going anywhere you don’t want to go, do you understand me?  I won’t let that happen.”

Patrick shakes his head and doesn’t answer.  David slides down until his face is up against Patrick’s, or at least the half of his face that isn’t smushed into the pillow, and whispers softly to him.  

“I know this is upsetting, more than upsetting, and you’re scared.  But you’re not alone in this.  You’re not alone in anything anymore, remember?”  He puts his arm around Patrick and pulls him close.  “Let me get all the information and see what our options are, okay?”

Patrick slides closer and buries his face in David’s neck, sniffling hard.  “Okay.”

*****

Later, after David has coaxed Patrick into eating at least a few bites of the now cold and therefore even less appetizing pasta, Patrick dozes off while an old episode of a cooking show plays on his laptop.  David goes out into the hallway and starts making calls.

He starts with Alexis, because next to his mother, she is the queen of making the impossible become possible – and while Moira seems to stumble into these situations by accident, Alexis makes things happen on her terms.  It helps that Alexis has been so chummy with Patrick’s doctor, because twenty minutes later David’s on the phone with the man himself.  They believe Patrick’s problems are caused by a head injury, not the electric shock.  But given his promising test results, there’s no medical reason Patrick can’t go home.  He’ll need some help at first – either from a family member or a home health care aide – but he can do PT on an outpatient basis if he doesn’t want to go to a residential rehab center, especially if there is someone (i.e., David) able to monitor Patrick’s condition.

David’s about to go back to Patrick’s room with the good news when he gets a text from his dad.  <i>Call me</i>

It’s progress from a guy who used to send emails in all caps.  At least this message is short.  He hopes it’s not an emergency – he’s already got his hands full with his Patrick-emergency.  His heart can only handle one at a time.

“Son, you don’t have to worry.  I’ve got it covered,” his dad says when the line connects.

“Got what covered?”

“The store.  Alexis told me about your dilemma, and you don’t need to worry about it.  Stevie’s coming in tomorrow, and between the two of us and Jocelyn after school, you won’t have to lift a finger.”

David can’t help the wave of relief he feels, even as he protests.  “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but last I checked you and Stevie had full time jobs of your own.”

“I already took the month off to go to Fiji, so no one’s expecting me back for at least three more weeks.  Stevie’s due some vacation time too.  Plus we just promoted two new regional managers – it’ll be good for them to have some space to do their thing without us hanging over their shoulders.”

“You can’t spend your vacation time working at the Apothecary – and you can’t make Stevie do it either.”

“Fine, I’ll give her extra vacation time, as much as she wants.  She never takes any time off anyway, no matter how much she saves up.  This will be fun for her – she doesn’t say it, but I know she misses you guys.”

It’s really too good to be true.  “Dad, are you sure?  Because Patrick and I can make it work, we’ll be okay on our own.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to do this on your own, David.”

It’s oddly reminiscent of what David just said to Patrick a little while ago.  They’re not alone in this, neither of them.

“All right, but I’m still supervising operations.  Don’t go making any changes or ordering anything different without asking me.  We have to stay on brand.”

“David, I would never.”

David lets out an embarrassing half-laugh/half-cry and presses his hand over his eyes.  “Dad, I have to get back to Patrick.”

“Okay, son.  I love you.  And tell Patrick we love him too.”

David hangs up and goes into the bathroom to splash some water on his face.  His dad has gifted them the perfect solution to this problem, even if he screws up and decorates the place with poison oak in ugly vases.  He can’t wait to tell Patrick.

Unfortunately, Patrick is fast asleep when David gets back to his room.  The nurse tells David that they gave Patrick a sedative to help him rest, and that he probably won’t wake up until morning.  Glancing at his watch, he sees that it’s nearly eleven o’clock.  No wonder he feels like he’s about to pass out.  Except for a few hours of sleep crammed in the hospital bed with Patrick last night, David has been awake since the previous morning.

“Do you have someone who can take you home for the night?”  the nurse asks.  “If Patrick wakes up I’ll help him call you.  You need to take care of yourself, so you can take care of him.”

“I’m pretty sure I told you that already,” Alexis trills at him.

David turns, and Alexis is there, smiling affectionately.  “Come on, David, give your little button a kiss and let me take you home.  I promise I’ll bring you back first thing.”

David really doesn’t want to leave, but he can barely keep his eyes open, and the thought of crawling into his own bed is irresistible.  He sends Patrick a text, letting him know he’ll be back early.

“You promise you’ll have him call me if he wakes up?”  David asks the nurse.  “Even if it’s the middle of the night?”

“I will.”  The nurse walks with them out of the room.  “He’s going to be fine, your husband.  He’s mostly just scared, but he’s going to be okay.”

“I thought medical professionals aren’t supposed to make promises like that,” David says, suddenly suspicious.

“I can tell he’s going to be okay, because he’s got you and your family on his side.”

Alexis turns and steps closer to the nurse, her eyes narrowing.  “Wait, do we know you?”

The nurse laughs.  “I’m Twyla’s second cousin, Marti.  I came to singles week at Schitt’s Creek a few years ago.”

“Ugh, do you still promise to take care of Patrick?”

Marti laughs.  “I do.  Now go home already, just looking at you is making me tired.”

*****

Sleeping in his own bed isn’t quite as wonderful as David had hoped it would be; Patrick’s absence is like a physical pain.  But David does feel more like himself in the morning.

As promised, Marti calls him around six when Patrick wakes up, and puts Patrick on the phone.  He is still a little drowsy, so David just makes sure everything is more or less okay and asks him what kind of scone he wants for breakfast.

“Blueberry,” Patrick says, surprising no one.

They get to the hospital around eight, Alexis giving Patrick a quick kiss on the cheek and then skipping off on what she says is an important work-related errand, but what David thinks is probably a coffee date with Patrick’s doctor.

“He’s named Dr. Lee,” David says.  “Do we think he’s related to someone in Schitt’s Creek too?”

“Ronnie’s last name is Lee,” Patrick says.  “But there’s not exactly a family resemblance.”

Dr. Lee is tall, built, and most likely Korean.  He reminds David of a younger, even more handsome Daniel Dae Kim. “No way to know, really.  And I’m not about to ask him.”

Patrick nods in agreement.  “I can’t believe that nurse is Twyla’s cousin.  Marti seems so normal.”

“Very funny.”

“So, what was the good news?”  Patrick looks cautiously optimistic, but still so nervous that David is compelled to sit down on the bed and pull him into his arms before he goes on.

“If you don’t want to go to that rehab place, you’re not going.  You don’t need to be there to do your PT.  You can come home, with me, and I will stay home and wait on you hand and foot until you get better.”

“David, you can’t leave the store-”

“My dad and Stevie are going to work the store.  Don’t argue with me, that part wasn’t even my doing, and it’s already decided.  Either you let me stay home with you, or I’ll wander the streets lonely and pining, but I’m not needed at the Apothecary.”

Patrick seems to be holding his breath, then asks, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Patrick’s eyes are shining, and he leans into David, sighing deeply.  “David… thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.  So far my mother hasn’t announced whether she’s part of this plan too, but I wouldn’t put it past her.  We might wind up with a selection of all-natural handmade wigs for sale.”

“I don’t care,” Patrick murmurs into David’s sweater.

“No, me neither.”

They pull apart when David’s stomach grumbles, and he unpacks the food he brought in.

“This doesn’t look like it came from the café,” Patrick says, as David deposits a blueberry scone iced with lemon and sparkling sugar on a paper plate.

“Nope.  We stopped at that place in Elm Falls, the one we looked at for wedding cakes?  They have a new baker with a real flair for pastries.  I’m thinking we should give them a call soon, see what it would take to set up a weekly delivery.”

David takes out his own breakfast – French toast stuffed with ricotta and strawberries, and cuts off a chunk, holding it out for Patrick to bite.

“Mmm, that’s good too.”

“Right?”

They eat in silence for a few minutes, David feeding Patrick bites of his French toast and Patrick breaking off pieces of his scone and slowly putting them into his mouth.

“Your arms seem steadier today -” David starts, and Patrick interrupts him.

“Don’t say it, I thought it too, but I don’t want to jinx anything.”

David grins at Patrick, and Patrick grins back, a little shy.  “Okay, I won’t say anything.”  He tries not to watch as Patrick picks up his iced coffee and sips from the straw, placing the plastic cup back down on the bed tray carefully but without any mishap.

“You’ll be stocking shelves in no time,” David says, and Patrick groans.  

“Shut up, please.”

Patrick’s mood improves even more when David reveals what else he brought him.

“I have never been happier to see a pair of sweats,” Patrick says, as he reluctantly lets David help him get dressed.  

“I figured that doing PT in a hospital gown probably didn’t improve the experience,” David says.  “Wait, there’s one more thing.”  He pulls out Patrick’s Café Tropicale baseball cap, which easily covers the shaved spot and the bandage on Patrick’s head.  Patrick’s smile lights up the room.

“Babe, you are really the best.”

David blushes as Patrick pulls him in for a kiss.  “I can definitely get you better hats, this is just temporary.”

“What, you mean you’re not a fan?”

David takes in his husband, smiling and laughing and thrilled to be wearing a worn green baseball cap while sitting in a hospital bed.  “I am, in fact, your very biggest fan,” he says, sappy and proud.  He kisses Patrick a few more times, for good measure, but all too soon a nurse comes in and they have to stop.

Even with his spirits lifted, Patrick still kicks David out during his physical therapy session.  David thinks it’s kind of silly, since it’s likely that the therapist might be imparting information that would be useful for them both to know, and he’d rather hear anything that’s going to upset Patrick so he can try to help deal with it before he spirals.  But he gets that Patrick is trying to hold on to some shred of privacy.  This whole situation is hell for David in terms of secondhand embarrassment, and he knows it’s a hundred times worse for Patrick.

When Patrick’s finally done with PT, David comes back into the room to find Patrick curled up on his side, his eyes closed.  David pulls his chair close to the bed and sets a hand on Patrick’s shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

“Tired.”

“Can I get you anything?”

Patrick just shakes his head, not opening his eyes.

David leans down and presses a kiss to Patrick’s forehead, then pulls out a magazine from his bag and starts flipping through it.  He’s bored, though, and now that’s he’s actually gotten some decent sleep, full of restless energy.  If he stays here, he’s just going to annoy Patrick with his fidgeting.

“Okay if I go for a walk?”  he asks, whispering.  “I won’t be gone long.”

“Do what you want,” Patrick mutters.

It stings.  David tells himself that it’s understandable, Patrick is going through a rough time, it’s no surprise that he’s grumpy.  But Patrick is usually so unflappable.  The contrast is striking.  David is supposed to be the dramatic one, while Patrick remains calm, the sober port in David’s passionate storm.  An exaggeration, maybe, but on the nose more often than not.

Now Patrick needs him to step up and be calm and capable for both of them.   David needs to set aside his own anxieties and be there for his husband, no matter how uncomfortable it might feel.  He’s always said that he would do anything for Patrick, but it’s a lot easier to say when his husband is cheerful and healthy and really doesn’t need much except David’s fond attention.  David is determined not to let Patrick down now, but based on his track record, he can’t help but think that the odds aren’t really in his favor.

[versatilewindow]

Fun Times in New Rome

Find it on Ao3

Summary: percy goes to see his GF in the gardens at New Rome, terrible writing ensues.

A/N: Reposting bc i hated the format from before. uhhh hope yall like this, I was feeling inspired to write something funny after my AP gov test

Percy was totally vibing at Camp Jupiter. He was talking with his boi, Jason, while on the way to see Annabeth at the gardens. Walking down the street in New Rome, Percy and Jason were having a chill conversation about artificial intelligence, not that they were well versed on that subject.

“All I’m saying is that if Elongated Muskrat wanted to put some AI in his cars, we could maybe create Lightning McQueen.” Jason very briefly paused at this statement. Cars was one of the greatest franchises known to man, after Spy Kids of course.

“Ok, caught the vibe, but that would cause some other problems, would cars then get civil rights? Because like, then they would be free thinking beings. Wait would cars be considered alive? Would it be slavery to own a car then?” The potential implications of putting AI in cars to create Lightning McQueen were too great for Jason, giving him a Fatty Headache™. “Look bro, I think I’m gonna have to dip, I was already on the verge of an existential crisis from talking to Annabeth about whether or not we should be living in a society. I’ll catch up with the two of you later.”

Percy saddened at the thought of his best bro going through his 3rd existential crisis in the week. “Ok dude, feel better soon,” he called out as Jason walked away, “And maybe don’t watch Ancient Aliens tonight.”

Percy continued on his way to the gardens at Camp Jupiter, which weren’t really gardens that you would think about, they were more like wild vegetables that happened to grow in the same area, with some neat flowers around. The best part was that they were totally organic, something very important to Annabeth.

Ahhhh, Annabeth.., ,,,. Percy swooned at the thought of her, with her ramen noodle lookin ass hair, the way her boobies looked in the Camp Halfblood shirt, which was such an UGLY color. But she made it look very sexiiii. He especially got horny at the way she made him feel dumb. That's feminism right? Thinking it's hot when girls womansplain? Anyways, Percy had finally made it to the gardens, and he saw Annabeth.

“What it do babeyyyyyy ;)” Percy said.

“Everyday I get more and more confused as to how you can say that aloud. Either way, I’m doing an experiment. I am crossbreeding this eggplant with a poison oak plant I found” This concerning statement fell onto deaf ears because Percy's eggplant was too focused on Annabeth’s peach. (if u know what I mean *wink wonk*)

Annabeth turned to face Percy and noticed his expression, which reminded her of this face :^0, because let's be real, Percy is 0 thoughts, only thots. This got Annabeth thinking..,.,. … ,, which was very unfortunate for our boi Percy.

Annabeth got up from where she was standing and tried out some flirting techniques she got from the Aphrodite girls back home. She gave Percy a sultry look, half lidded eyes, looked him up and down, then bit her lip. Only problem, she bit her upper lip, making Percy very confused for about .001 seconds.

“Damn girl u come here often?” Percy said while doing the fuckboi rub on his chin.

“Mayhaps, only when u’re around;)” Annabeth replies.

Then Percy goes crazy and stupid and starts kissing his GF!!!! In a vaguely public area!!!!! (its ok tho no ones around, Percy checked bc he’s smart like that >:3c). Things were getting real saucy, their tongues were #battlingfordominance, and stuff like that. Eventually it got to a point where they didnt know how far they were going to take it. The two of them paused, vaguely out of breath. Percy gave Annabeth a look that said ‘damn shawty we rlly gonna do this huh?’ In response our good sis Annabeth said, “Artichoke me daddy.” Percy went APESHIT after hearing that, mostly because they were next to the artichokes. He real quick picked her up and sprinted to their shared room in New Rome where they woo hooed for at least 69 hours

And they lived happily ever after, and that's on what? periodt sis. the end.