#bears protection

[bdapublishing]

teehee happy sag season

[fairsweetlonging]

time travel au where liu qingge and shen qingqiu (yuan) end up accidentally traveling a decade back in time before luo binghe was amitted to qing jing peak and before shen qingqiu had his qi deviation, but after their generation has risen to peak lords.

which means, shen yuan realizes quickly, as they're accosted by said peak lords, that he will have to face shen jiu.

as they're being cleared for demonic energy and the likes, mu qingfang of course instantly detects the poison without a cure eating away at shen yuan's meridians. liu qingge pulls a copy of the treatment plan out of his sleeve (shen yuan blushes a bit, did liu qingge always keep that on hand?), and just like in the current timeline, they agree to keep it under wraps.

shen jiu tries various times to get a moment alone with shen yuan, but he never quite manages because liu qingge is there, who is also... nice?? to him?? for some reason?? shen jiu gets a bit flustered at the solemn politeness and skitters off.

it comes out pretty quickly that shen yuan has "memory loss", and thus can't remember anything that's currently taking place in this time. shen yuan expects scorn, hatred and disdain from shen jiu, expects to be grabbed and interrogated, to arouse suspicion.

but shen jiu looks....... sad???

being transported here threw shen yuan's qi off-balance (even liu qingge had to sit down, which means it's bad), and his cultivation is already so unstable, so when the peak lords are all squabbling and arguing and threatening and raising their voice, he can feel his body shut down. he sees yue qingyuan start to move towards him, which, knowing the future yue qingyuan, he really isn't up for right now—but before the sect leader can get to him someone else is at his back, transferring him qi, holding him up gently by his shoulders, then coaxing him up, leading him outside

shen yuan's been fed qi by every peak lord at least once. he doesn't recognize this one. that means it can only be one person.

he looks up. it's shen jiu.

and it's bizarre, getting fussed over by the scum villain, having gentle hands run along his back, his hair, that clear, soothing voice calming him down. and somehow shen jiu knows exactly what to do?? somehow it works perfectly on him?? it's almost as if shen jiu has known him his whole—

oh.

bodies, like homes, hold memories, even if the original occupants are no longer there. it's the milestone marks on the doorpost that chart a child's growth, blurry photographs faded by time, scuffed floors from well-walked paths, and tiny holes in the walls where pictures once hung.

shen jiu takes him to the bamboo house, pours him tea, and asks, calmly, what he remembers from their childhood.

it's not his childhood, so shen yuan doesn't actually remember anything, but the body he's in does. the memories it holds are emotional rather than visual; he remembers being alone, scared, and hungry. he remembers anger, pain. a dark room. loud voices. he remembers his heart skipping a beat when heavy boots stomp his way. the sound of a whip.

he doesn't have to lie. the memories aren't his own, and they're from long ago, which means shen jiu has them too. and, he supposes, this is his only chance to find out what really happened.

but shen jiu doesn't say anything about it. he just nods and stares, intensely. then he asks shen yuan if he remembers yue qingyuan. shen yuan says no, he doesn't. the conversation takes a very strange turn after that. shen yuan can't help but feel a little queasy when shen jiu asks him if yue qingyuan has taken advantage of his memory loss.

"has he come into your home? has he brought you gifts, sweets? does he invite you for tea? did you accept?"

he has. shen yuan doesn't know why that would be a problem, the sect leader has been nothing but kind and helpful and patient. and generous, too.

when he says yes shen jiu looks furious.

liu qingge (his one) comes to pick him up, and his time with shen jiu is cut short. somewhere he's glad, cuddling into liu qingge's back as he holds him while they fly. he feels a little bad for yue qingyuan, knowing he's probably caused a big fight, but it doesn't sit right with him. he wishes he knew what happened.

.

liu qingge, meanwhile, is having the time of his life fighting himself. it's good practice!

[vole-mon-amour]

by @/kristorey_ on twt. I got the artist's permission to repost.

source

[atompalace-official]

shouldn’t have picked on that Swinub…..

[erinwantstowrite]

ok ok ok last doodle for today but it was so important to me to draw these

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

#Award Hugs

[amarriageoftrueminds]

cannot stop thinking about an AU where Bucky gets the same treatment as Steve (ie. serumed and vitarayed.)

So he shoots up to 6' 8" or something ridiculous and is built like a brick shithouse. To everyone else he's almost Too Big, but to Steve it's just like being small again while Bucky is ...Large, and Steve is permanently flustered about it. 😳🥺

[imalive000]

Mama Bear

[demaparbat-hp]

How does that first encounter go down between them in your Spitfire AU? I imagine some real conflicting emotions on all sides!

I would love to hear you ramble!! ❤️

*cracks knuckles* Alright, let's do this.

As far as the world is concerned, Lu Ten II doesn't exist and the Royal Bloodline ends with Princess Azula. The little kid that follows Prince Zuko everywhere? That's Ten Ten, an orphaned stowaway his Crew found and adopted for some weird reason no-one ever questions—the kid is just that lovable.

(It helps, honestly, that Lu Ten II is a carbon-copy of poor, forgotten Ursa. No one would ever think to connect him with Fire Lord Ozai, long may he reign.)

Little Ten Ten loves to run off when the Crew is on shore leave. He gets into trouble sometimes, but only because of his chronic inability to look away from people who need help (it makes Zuzu both so proud and so shouty-because-he's-worried. It's fun until it isn't).

By now the Crew knows not to panic when the kid goes missing for a couple of hours in a harbor town—which is why no one noticed Ten Ten's disappearance until it was too late.

"Could someone please explain to me," what starts as a mutter becomes a shout as anxiety takes over Sokka, "why on earth did we go into town to buy necessary, highly specific supplies, and returned—not only with a stolen waterbending scroll—stolen! From pirates, Katara!—but with a Fire Nation-looking KID?!"

While Ten Ten is having the time of his life goofing with Aang, out-sassing why-is-this-happening-to-me Sokka, and melting Katara's heart—Zuko is losing his mind, sanity, and temper because how on Agni's name do you lose a Prince of your nation?

But, sir, he's like three-feet-tall—

HOW, JEE?!

Needless to say, the pirates kidnap the pretty waterbending thief and her kid with the sharp tongue and fancy-looking clothes. Which turns out to be a Bad Idea™ because, well, a skinny guy from the watertribes and his way-too-young-to-be-bald companion? They can absolutely deal with them.

A Crew's worth of murderous Fire Nation soldiers lead by the unforgiving, terrifying, bloodthirsty Prince?

They are not ready for that.

[natalievoncatte]

Even in the vast softness of Caitlyn’s bed

(their bed)

Vi felt the jolt. It was either that or the soft, pained exhalation that woke her, but it didn’t really matter. She snapped awake with the sudden alertness she’d been taught by Vander and had honed in Stillwater. Even though she came around in an instant, she still expected to feel a cold concrete floor beneath her aching side and smell the charnel stink of sweat, desperation, and blood. Waking up to soft linens and the clean, fresh smell of sheets washed in lavender water, and *Cait* felt fresh and new every time.

“…no…” Cait mewled. “…no… stop… Jinx… Cupcake! Cupcake she calls me-“

Vi hesitated, unsure whether to wake her. She’d seen plenty of people cry out in their sleep and knew that eight times in ten it was better to let them ride it out instead of waking them in the middle of something that might make them lash out or hurt themselves.

When Cait let out a blood-curdling scream, Vi lept wxross the bed and pressed a hand to her cheek, finding a cold sweat sheening her skin.

“Cait, wake up.”

Caitlyn’s eyes (*eye*, a bitter voice added) snapped open and she looked around, jerking up from the bed, her chest heaving as she drew in ragged, pained breaths.

Vi pulled her into an embrace, wrapping Caitlyn up in her arms and bending her body as much as she could to form a shield around her while Caitlyn desperately hugged her back and buried her face in Vi’s neck.

Sometimes they said more this way than they did by talking. Vi sat up and gently rubbed the back of Cait’s neck with her fingertips and pressed light kisses to the crown of her head, for no other reason than she loved her and she was free to show it.

Finally Cait said, “I had a nightmare.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Cait didn’t answer, instead resting her head on Vi’s shoulder while her finger aimlessly traced the tattoo on Vi’s arm, sort of half-humming on exhalation. Vi had learned that Cait wasn’t being rude when she didn’t answer her and that these little things she did to soothe herself were just as important. That Vi could savor Cait’s touches forever was incidental. Vi hadn’t touched her enough and would make up for it for the rest of her life.

“Do you remember the… the tea party.”

Vi swallowed hard. That night had been one of the most painful of her life, when all her sins had marched out of the darkness to revenge themselves on her tenfold. It was the terror she felt when she saw Cait’s eyes that shattered her, but the worst, the worst…

(I paid your girlfriend a visit…)

It hurt to even summon the thought, like touching the edges of a barely healed wound, feeling the scab lift and pull at the raw flesh beneath.

For a moment Vi knew that Jinx was going to lift that lid and Caitlyn’s severed rotting head would be sitting there staring at her with blank eyes and she cringed in horror and fear, a shiver ripping through her.

Cait knew; Vi didn’t have to say yes.

“Did you ever wonder how she knew you called me cupcake?”

Vi shook her head. “I thought she must have heard me. On the bridge maybe or…”

“She might have, but she delighted in making me tell her. I was helpless, terrified. She spent hours hurting me, but she kept saying she wouldn’t kill me because she was waiting for you. She said you’d do it.”

“Did you believe her?”

“No, never.”

Vi let out a long, slow sigh in relief.

“I hurt you. I hit you, but you would never hurt me.”

“We talked about that, Cait.”

“I know.”

There was a brief silence in the dark. First light was beginning to peek through the curtains and soon it would be time to get up. Most nights Vi hated waking now. She wanted nothing more than to spend then rest of her life in soft sunlit moments with Cait, making love under the warming sunlight as often as not.

Cait’s hand worked between them and traced over the scar on Vi’s belly, in the same spot where Cait’s rifle butt had smashed the air from her lungs and left her begging, sent her spiraling into a booze-fueled nightmare of longing where the pain of a fist to her face was the only thing that kept her awake long enough to keep looking for someone to kill her in the ring before the drinking did.

They held each other a little tighter.

“No one is going to get you now,” Vi promised.

“You’re not my keeper, Vi. You mean more to me than what you can do for me.”

“I meant you can hold your own. You took me out, remember? Do you know how many people can say that?”

“You let me win because I’m me.”

Vi shook her head. “Not until I was already face up on the ground. You took down Ambessa.”

“I had help.”

“You’ll have help if someone comes at you again. My help.”

“I told you, Vi, you…”

“No. It’s not because I owe you something, it’s because I love you.”

Vi hadn’t said the words yet, despite all this time, but it shocked neither of them.

“We protect each other, then.”

Vi nodded in agreement. She could see Cait’s eye growing lidded and the tension slit out of her body as Vi lay down with her. She was asleep in a few minutes, snoring lightly against Vi’s neck.

Vi vowed to stay awake, Cait was too soft.

[dayleebear]

Sniper and Pauling besties (based on my TF2 x TLOU fic :])

They’re so

Read it here :)

[motherfucker-unlimited]

Budd Doe caught pushing the payload on hightower. instead of accepting his ban, jumps directly into the enemy teams sentry nest.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

The earth ghouls (Earth, Pebble, Ivy, Mountain) seeing Phantom right after he's been summoned, all scrawny and thin, and promptly digging a comfortable nest under the roots of an ancient tree where they shove him in and spend weeks cuddling and feeding him until he looks healthy again.

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

A whole ass zombie apocalypse wasn’t something Jason thought he’d ever have to worry about.

Not that he has to worry about it now, either, considering he just got bit.

Everyone knows what you gotta do in these scenarios. Your loved ones will cry (“awe, Dickie, you do care”), they’ll try to find a different way (“shut up Bruce. Even you can’t concoct a cure in two hours”) and blame themselves (“fuck you, Timmers, I want you to know I died because you wanted that damn coffe!”…. Yeah, he could have handled that one better in hindsight) and then, ultimately, they’re gonna put a bullet in your brain. For the sake of the group.

And it’s fine, really. Better than turning into a mindless, flesh eating meat sack. He was ready. He got to say goodbye. It’s fine.

Or it would have been fine, if any of those damn cowards had pulled the friggin trigger.

Now Jason is clinically semi-dead (don’t ask him, he doesn’t know how this shit works either) and still annoyingly in charge of his mental faculties while also harboring a rather concerning craving for human flesh.

Fuck.

[buddie-buddie]

Buddie + “Who did this?”

“Who did this?” Eddie’s voice is hard and icy in a way that's almost foreign to Buck. Almost, but not entirely. His eyes drop to where Eddie’s lips are pressed into a line, his jaw set, and memories of derailed trains and risky rescues and Abby flash in his mind. 

Buck doesn’t have time to focus too much on that, though, because Eddie's closing the distance between them and taking Buck's chin in his hands. Everything else fades away until there’s nothing but the familiar warmth of Eddie’s gentle touch and the pleasant ache in Buck’s chest, the same one that blooms behind his ribs each time Eddie’s nearby. 

Eddie touches him like he's something sacred, holds him like he's something precious.

“I–” Buck hesitates. It’s not that he wants to hide anything from Eddie, he just… he doesn’t want to worry him, is all.

It’s bad enough he has a fresh bruise blooming across his jaw, blues and purples swimming beneath swollen skin. Swollen skin that’s split in one spot, held together with a butterfly bandage that Hen insisted he actually needed, despite his protests and attempts at bargaining. Of course Eddie’s going to worry when he sees that.

And see that, he did. About three seconds after Buck walked through the door of Eddie’s house– no, not Eddie’s house. Their house. His lease on the loft had officially ended two weeks ago, but he’d been living at the Diaz house for the better part of the last four months, since the morning he woke up sleepy and cranky, grumbling about having to stop by the loft before their shift to get more clothes and Eddie had kissed the spot behind his ear and murmured, “What if you bring them all over?”

Buck had turned over in Eddie’s arms, suddenly wide awake. “E-Eddie.”

“Bring them all,” Eddie had said, bringing a hand up and tracing Buck’s birthmark with gentle, reverent touches. “And all your shoes, too. And the frying pan Bobby got you for Christmas two years ago that you said you want to be buried with. And the books on your coffee table and that plant you keep killing and honestly? Your mattress. It’s better than this one.”

“Eddie,” Buck had breathed, unable to get anything else out past the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. 

“Buck,” Eddie said simply. Buck would never tire of hearing his name on Eddie’s lips. “Stay.”

And Buck did.

This isn’t just Eddie’s house anymore, it’s their house. And a few minutes ago, when Buck got home, Eddie had come to the front door to greet him, just as he always did when he heard Buck’s key in the lock. He rounded the corner with a warm, easy smile, one that instantly fell the second his eyes landed on Buck. He had stepped forward, closing the distance between them and reaching for Buck’s bruised face with a gentle insistence that was still fond, even when laced in desperation. 

Buck didn’t want to worry him any more than he already had. Plus, really, there’s nothing to worry about. Their last call of the shift had been to an overturned vehicle, and the driver was more than twice the legal limit and just as combative as he was plastered. Buck had tried to stop the guy from crawling out his window– Chim and Hen had wanted to get him on a backboard– but it was no use. The guy was out of the car and stumbling towards Buck with a fury in his eyes, accusing him of being the one to call the police. Buck was halfway through denying that claim when a fist flew at his face, pain exploding from his jaw as he reeled back, stumbling to the side as his hand flew to his face.  

There’s a fire burning in Eddie’s eyes, dark and protective. But more than that, there’s a softness there, a gentleness hidden in the way Eddie’s eyebrows lift just slightly, his eyes wide and searching as he waits Buck out.

“Buck,” Eddie says finally, barely above a whisper. It’s a plea more than anything. 

Six years of knowing Eddie and six months of dating him and Buck still folds like a cheap suit when Eddie looks at him like that. “It's nothing. Just a drunk idiot on our last call.”

Eddie makes a dissatisfied sound under his breath, running his fingers over the bruised skin with a touch so light and careful, it sets Buck’s heart on fire. “And this person was dealt with.” It’s not a question so much as it is a statement, one that speaks to his trust in the rest of the 118. His faith in them to have Buck's back, especially when he can't be the one to do it himself.

Buck nods the best he can with his chin still in Eddie’s hands. “Bobby,” he says, and it’s explanation enough. “And then Athena.” 

Eddie hums, and Buck can tell that while the answer satisfies him, it’s not enough to chase away all of the concern that’s needling at him. Buck brings his hands up, curling his fingers around the warm skin of Eddie’s wrists. The steady beat of Eddie’s pulse beneath his fingertips is instantly grounding. And maybe just as much for Eddie, too, if the small sigh that falls from his lips is any indication. 

“Baby,” Buck says softly. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Eddie’s voice is small when he answers, quiet and resigned in a way that splits Buck open just as much as Eddie’s words do. “I wasn’t there.”

Through no fault of his own. Christopher was running a fever the night before their shift started, and with Pepa out of town and Carla at Morongo again, Eddie had called out to stay home with him. Which he feels guilty about, if the resignation in his voice and the regret in his eyes are anything to go off of.

“You were exactly where you needed to be,” Buck reminds him. 

Eddie lets out a small sigh. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Doesn’t mean I hate it any less, though.”

Buck shrugs. “Never expected you would.” A small smile tugs at his lips, and he ignores the way that even the slight motion sends a fresh wave of pain radiating across his jaw. “Chim says we’re ‘sickeningly codependent.’” 

“Maybe,” Eddie admits, his thumb ghosting over Buck’s bottom lip. His gaze skates from Buck’s eyes to his lips, then back up again. Buck can see the moment Eddie hesitates, can see the flash of trepidation in his eye. 

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Buck assures him. “In fact,” he says, almost conspiratorially. “It could be what heals me.”

Eddie hums, a smile playing on his face. “Better give it a try, then.”

“Guess so.” 

Eddie finally, finally kisses him, and it may not patch Buck’s skin back together or undo the broken blood vessels, but it chases away every last bit of the pain. It ebbs away until there’s nothing but Eddie. Nothing but the feel of Eddie’s fingers in his hair and Eddie’s lips on his, nothing but the way Eddie grins against Buck’s mouth and Buck feels good and right and whole. He feels like an unmoored ship who’s anchor’s just hit the sand, no longer adrift. Steady. Grounded. Safe. 

He feels like he’s home. 

After all, he is. 

prompt game

[bonefall]

Dunno if they properly count to be recycled but in 'Into the Wild' Dawncloud mentions having more kittens she doesn't want to be killed which can't be Blossom or Swamp who are dead by this point.

I'm counting them. I haven't named them yet, but in my notes, they're marked down as "WindClan Massacre 1" and "WindClan Massacre 2."

Dawncloud is a mess in-canon. She's an apprentice who's supposed to be an old queen with several litters, and a mate so old he should have been dead before she was born. The way I've decided to approach her is by making her more accurate to her TPB appearance; an old queen.

She is now Raggedstar's littermate.

A friend of Yellowfang's youth, along with Ashflame (previously ShC Ashfur).

Finchflight was a total git. The kind of husband that you really hope she divorces, but never does.

Nasty to her friends, really full of himself, a fantastic warrior who doesn't let you forget it.

"Dawcy, what do you see in that guy?" "Ohh, you don't know him like I do."

Together, they had several litters of kits. I'm still working out the nitty gritty details on how many litters and how many kits in each.

The oldest were the two who eventually die in the massacre. There weren't as many ShadowClan casualties as WindClan casualties that night, but they were strong warriors in the initial strike squad.

I'm thinking of giving them bird names-- Drake and Harrier, maybe. Finchflight would want his firstborn kits to have names like him, and Dawncloud would oblige.

Scorchwind is in a later litter. He was born after his uncle earned the honor title of Raggedpelt, and Dawncloud adored her brother's old name.

With his blessing, the unused, "lucky name" was passed to Scorchkit.

There's another "maybe" cat who might be hers-- a Glitch Warrior, the "Not Brokenstar" forest rogue from Rise of Scourge.

His WIP name is Braketail. A brake is a marshland dominated by one species of plant. I'm tempted to make his name Brakebone though.

May or may not stay in the Dawnkin family, though. Depends.

Since BB!Brokenstar both does not have the "child soldiers" plotline and has a much longer rule than his canon counterpart, Dawncloud is now the progenitor of some "kit saves."

Currently, Mossthorn is her lastborn.

Finchflight died while they were young, so their temperament is vastly different from his older siblings.

From there, Swampfang, Volewhisper, and Blossomfrost are grandchildren now.

Discopaw and her unnamed sibling (current WIP name Poppaw) may also be Dawnkin, depending.

I'm still deciding who the parents were, though.

Current draft is giving Swamp/Bloss/Vole to Mossthorn, but I might give them to one of the dead firstborns. I like the idea of Volepaw getting horribly mauled while rushing to his parent's defense.

Dawncloud there in the camp, burying two children and unsure if her grandson will survive his injuries, deciding in that moment she cannot lose another kit.

Sadly though, this doesn't have a happy ending. Dawncloud's family is devastated by Runningnose's plague.

Dawncloud, Mossthorn, Volewhisper, and Pop are taken out as Nightstar sympathizers. Disco and Swamp are targeted too, but survive.

Blossomfrost wanted to be a Cleric. She begged Runningnose to let her help, not knowing it was him who had unleashed it on the Clan that "betrayed" Brokenstar.

He warned her that the plague was dangerous, and that there were serious risks involved. She could have distanced herself from the infected, stayed safe. But she didn't.

Her death was unfortunate collateral. She was a bright young warrior with a good heart. A waste.

I'm unsure if Discopaw will stay in this family, but it's definitive that Crowfrost will be descended from Dawncloud. What defines this family is their bright, two-colored irises. Crow has cobalt ringed by brilliant blue frost.

To add insult to injury, I imagine Nightwhisper's name is a direct reference to Volewhisper. Probably Runningnose's idea; to have the first warrior that Tigerstar names be a repeat of the first title Nightstar gave.

'Let this be the sight you die seeing, Dawncloud,' Runningnose's subtle smile and gleeful eyes silently declare, 'I've taken your kits. I've trampled their honor. Everything you betrayed your Clan for was for nothing.'

It's only the beginning of TigerClan's tyranny, a droplet of the bloodbath to come.