#fic(???)

[hotshotsxyz]

hope for the future (got me on my knees)

(buddie) (s8 spec) (2.4k words) car crash spec <3 title from bastille's hope for the future, which, imo, is one of the eddie songs of all time cw: blood (like. a lot)

Eddie’s not supposed to be here. He’s not—

He’s—

God, he’s not supposed to be here again. He’s not even on shift. But Buck is.

It was a favor. He’s covering for a last minute absence on C shift. So now he’s—

He’s on shift and he’s lying in the middle of the road and he’s not moving. And Eddie. Can’t. Breathe.

“Buck!” someone shouts, and Jesus it sounds like their entire world just crumbled. Eddie’s throat feels raw like—

Oh.

He’s the one screaming.

Buck’s three feet away from him, sluggishly bleeding out on the pavement. Shannon’s six feet under in a graveyard halfway across the city. Buck’s ribs are giving way beneath Eddie’s hands. Buck’s blood is soaking through his jeans. It’s staining him, his skin, his mind.

He—

“Sir!” Someone snaps. “You need to—shit, Diaz?”

No, that’s—it’s not Eddie who’s broken and unmoving on the ground. It’s not Eddie who’s going to die with or without a tube down his throat.

It’s—

It’s—

Two pairs of hands grab him, yank him away.

“No!” Eddie screams, thrashing wildly at whoever it is that thinks they can keep him from Buck.

“Diaz, stop!”

He can’t. He won’t.

“You have to let them help him.”

They won’t do enough. Only Eddie will fight for him hard enough. Only Eddie knows how to bring him back. An animalistic snarl climbs out from his chest.

“I’ve got a pulse!” a paramedic Eddie doesn’t recognize shouts. She’s a floater, probably.

A floater is holding Buck’s life in her hands. Does she even know? Does she know that the world will stop turning if he’s not in it?

Eddie’s knees hit the pavement. Distantly, he feels the sting. Mostly, though, he feels Buck’s blood. It’s on his hands and soaking through his clothes, painting him red, red, red.

Two firefighters carefully roll Buck onto a body board and lift him to the stretcher. For a split second, it’s 2019. Eddie’s watching his wife die. He’s holding Buck’s hand and trying not to stare at his mangled leg.

“Diaz! Now or never, are you coming with us?”

He doesn’t feel himself move, but between one blink and the next he finds himself in the back of an ambulance staring down at his—

His—

Buck’s eyelashes flutter and Eddie can’t do this.

“Please,” he sobs, clutching Buck’s hand. “You—you have to—”

He’s squeezing too hard. So hard he might break Buck’s hand, but he’s terrified that if he lets go, so will Buck.

The floater moves to intubate, but before she can Buck heaves a shuddering breath and opens his eyes.

Eddie thinks he might be screaming again, only this time the sound is trapped deep inside him.

“Eds… hurt?” Buck manages.

He must be. He’s dying maybe, because that’s the only explanation he can think of for the creeping numbness in his limbs.

“He’s fine, Buckley,” the floater says.

She’s wrong. She doesn’t— how could she? She doesn’t know that every piece of Eddie that’s worth anything is dying right alongside his—

��I can’t wait any longer,” she says apologetically before shoving a plastic tube down Buck’s trachea. He chokes on it, and oh, Eddie’s choking too.

The ambulance slows and Eddie’s about to bang against the wall, about to demand they keep going, when the doors are flung open revealing an entire trauma team dressed in pristine scrubs.

The floater rattles off Buck’s vitals and the injuries they know of.

As they pull Buck from the back of the ambulance, one of the doctors catches Eddie’s eye. He nods, and Eddie hopes to God that means he knows that Los Angeles will be swallowed by the sea if this man doesn’t live.

All at once, Buck is gone and Eddie’s left standing next to an ambulance that could be the last place he ever hears Buck speak.

“Diaz, you okay?” The C shift captain whose name Eddie can’t be bothered to remember right now asks.

No.

No.

No.

He doesn’t answer.

…

There’s blood on his face. Buck’s blood. Eddie doesn’t— he’s not sure how it got there, but now that he sees it, he can feel it too. It’s tacky and drying and God, there’s so much.

Gentle hands turn him away from the mirror.

“No,” Eddie says as his sluggish brain recognizes Bobby. “No, no he can’t—“

Bobby was there when—

He held Eddie. Let him weep into his shoulder. Stood steady as Eddie’s world crumbled to pieces.

“He’s in surgery,” Bobby says.

“They don’t know,” Eddie babbles.

Bobby’s face creases in concern. “Know what, Eddie?”

“He’s— he—“ He can’t force the words out.

“Eddie,” he repeats forcefully.

“I love him,” Eddie croaks.

Bobby, steadfast and solid, cracks.

One sob escapes his chest, then another, and soon they’re both sliding to grimy bathroom floor, trying not to shatter entirely.

“I can’t lose another—“ Bobby gasps.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. Bobby can’t lose another child. He can’t lose another spouse. Not now, not when he’s just begun to understand the depth of what he’s been denying himself for what feels like his entire life. Not now, not ever. Not— not, Buck.

The bathroom door bangs open and Hen steps in. Tear tracks stain her cheeks, but Eddie can’t bring himself to analyze her expression further. If Buck’s— Eddie wants to live in a world that hasn’t quite ended as long as he possibly can.

“No update,” she says quietly.

She grabs a few paper towels and wets them in the sink. She kneels in front of Eddie and brings one to his face. He flinches back.

“Eddie?” she asks.

He swallows past the lump in his throat. “What if…”

What if the blood staining his skin is the last piece of Buck he gets to keep? What if he dies on the operating table? What if he’s already dead? Eddie can’t— he won’t let anyone take the last of him away.

A harsh sob drags itself past his lips.

“Oh, Eddie,” Hen whispers, and why do people keep saying his name?

No one— he’s never heard it so many times from anyone but Buck. He doesn’t want to hear it from anyone but Buck. He shakes his head and presses his hands to his ears.

Hen says something else, but all he can hear is the whoosh of his own pulse, and it’s so unfair. Shouldn’t his heart know not to beat until he’s sure Buck’s will again?

“Eddie,” Hen says, taking his hands. “Let me, please.”

He can’t bring himself to agree, but he doesn’t fight back when she raises the paper towel to his face again. She pulls it across his skin in gentle drags, but it’s cold and Eddie can’t help but think uncharitably that Buck would’ve waited for the water to warm before he wet the towels.

When she’s done with his face, Hen guides him to the sink to wash the blood from his hands too. For a split second, Eddie wonders if Buck washed his blood away in this same sink after Eddie was shot. He wonders if Buck’s hands shook the way his are shaking now.

“That’s good Eddie, there you go,” Hen encourages him softly.

He bristles at her careful tone. Nothing she says can make any of this better or worse, not unless she can tell him with absolute certainty whether or not Buck will survive the night.

“I grabbed your duffle from the station,” she continues, and it’s only then that he notices his own bag slung over her shoulder. “Think you can get changed?”

Eddie nods mutely. Distantly, it occurs to him that this is part of what makes Hen such a good paramedic— her ability to meet someone where they are. He peels off his henley and exchanges it for the long sleeve LAFD crewneck she hands him.

He swaps his pants next, and for the first time, wearing a piece of the uniform feels wrong. He couldn’t— he wasn’t a medic today. If it had just been him and Buck out there, Buck would be dead already. He’d, what? Held his torn skin together? As if that was the wound that was going to kill him. Shannon didn’t even bleed when she died.

“Maddie and Chim are waiting for you,” Hen says, nodding toward the door. “I’m going to sit with Cap for a little while, okay?”

Again, Eddie nods. He stumbles through the door and into the arms of a woman who, for all they share, he barely knows.

He can’t bring himself to look her in the eye. She’ll know, he thinks, know that he didn’t do enough. Know that he failed one of the three people she loves most in this world.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks into her hair.

“For what?” she asks shakily.

“I should’ve— I didn’t—“

“You were there,” Maddie says. “You made sure he knows he’s not alone.”

Eddie swallows harshly.

“He knows what he’s fighting for,” Maddie continues. “Thank you.”

He wants to shake her. He should’ve done more. He’d demanded it once of a different team of doctors, and then he couldn’t even—

He was there and it didn’t matter. Buck’s still dying in a sterile operating room.

Maddie pushes him toward a chair next to Chimney in the waiting room, then sits on his other side. They talk to him, Eddie thinks, but he doesn’t hear a word.

…

“Family of Evan Buckley?”

Eddie’s on his feet before he’s even made a conscious decision to stand. Maddie follows quickly behind him, and— oh, Bobby’s in the waiting room now, too.

The doctor smiles at them, and while Eddie’s sure it’s meant to be reassuring, every second that passes without news is more excruciating than the last.

“Mr. Buckley did well in surgery,” she says.

Eddie’s entire body sags, like a marionette with its strings cut. Hen’s subtle but steadying hand on his back is the only reason he doesn’t collapse to the floor right then and there.

“He’s not out of the woods yet,” the doctor continues, “but his CT was clear and we were able to locate and repair the source of his internal bleeding.”

“He’s going to be okay?” Maddie asks, high and watery.

The doctor nods. “We’d like to keep him a few days for observation, but barring unforeseen complications, we believe he’ll make a full recovery.”

Maddie presses a hand to her mouth and nods, eyes shining.

“The effects of the anesthesia should be wearing off soon, I can take two of you to his room.”

To Eddie’s surprise, Maddie takes his hand. “We’ll—us,” she says.

Eddie looks at Maddie, then Bobby. “Are you—are you sure?”

“Go,” Bobby says. “He needs you.”

Eddie’s not sure that’s true, but he sure as hell needs Buck and he—he thinks this is probably one of those times when he’s allowed to be a little selfish.

“Through these doors,” the doctor says, leading them back with a wave of her key card.

…

He’s pale, unnaturally so. It’s like, despite the massive transfusion he received, there still isn’t enough blood pumping through his veins. Eddie wishes he could wring out his shirt and return every drop he took.

“Eddie, what happened?” Maddie asks softly.

Eddie shakes his head. “I, uh, I wasn’t supposed to be there,” he says haltingly.

Maddie takes his hand with the one that isn’t holding Buck’s and squeezes.

“I don’t think he knew I was there,” Eddie continues. “It was just… God, Maddie, it was a coincidence.”

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath.

“It came out of nowhere. They were responding to a fender bender, wouldn’t have even been a call except one of the drivers was stuck in their car, I think. He was helping someone when it—there was a car. And then he was just—I couldn’t—he—”

Maddie squeezes his hand again. “You know, I—” she hesitates, then nods like she’s made a decision. “I’ve never seen him happy the way he is with you.”

Against Eddie’s will, a pained noise escapes his throat. “I don’t know why,” he admits. He looks down at his feet.

“Sure,” Maddie says, blowing out an amused huff.

“He’s so good. He walks into a room and everything gets brighter. He’s the sun,” Eddie says helplessly.

Maddie’s smile turns impossibly fond. “You love him,” she says. It’s not a question.

A smile of his own spreads unbidden on his lips. “How could I not?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath.

Eddie whips his head around and sees Buck, eyes open, lips parted.

“Eddie,” he breathes.

He should be panicking, maybe. Throat closing, heart racing, but—the singular feeling in his chest is relief.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie says, incapable of and unwilling to keep the warmth from his voice.

“You—” Buck blinks twice, slow, like he’s trying to keep himself awake.

Eddie lays a hand on his ankle and squeezes. “Rest,” he says. “I’ll stay.”

“Stay… s’nice,” Buck slurs as he slips back into sleep.

“For what it’s worth,” Maddie says after a long moment, “pretty sure he loves you, too.”

Eddie watches the slow rise and fall of Buck’s chest. “Yeah,” he says, biting down on a grin that’s far too wide for the ICU, “I think he might.”

“Could take a second for him to work that out for himself,” Maddie says.

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle. “Oh, I know,” he says. “Gives me time to pick out a ring,” he jokes. Kind of.

Maddie laughs and shakes her head. “Is this your way of asking for my permission to propose?”

“Well I’m not going to ask your parents,” Eddie replies, wrinkling his nose.

Maddie’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Could you imagine if I said no after all of this?”

“I’d ask him anyway,” Eddie admits.

“Good answer,” Maddie says.

Eddie laughs. “Oh, so that was a test?”

“No,” Maddie replies, shaking her head. “But he deserves someone that chooses him no matter what.”

“I do,” Eddie says with conviction. “I will.”

“Then yes,” Maddie says. “Just—don’t ask him in the hospital.”

[did-sm1-say-catfish]

me watching my fic (2nd sock) get kudos (1st sock)

[mywhisperingwords]

a touch that never hurts | fred g. weasley

summary: you seem to have fallen for your best friend, which you could handle if only he didn’t constantly touch you word count: 3.2k masterlist

It was official: you were stupid.

Only a complete idiot would fall for their best mate and here you’ve gone and done it. Because there was no other explanation for this feeling in your stomach as you looked across the Great Hall and watched Fred Weasley tell some stupid joke to his friends and wishing nothing more than to be the one he told the joke to.

He wasn’t even supposed to be here; just earlier today, Snape had given him detention.

While working on the assigned potion, he decided to mix things up to make you laugh after your bad day.

Before class started Snape decided to ruin the day and give everyone’s essays back. You flunked. Hard. After a big explosion and an awful lecture from Snape, any of Fred’s afternoon plans were ruined. For you.

You stood there, frozen in shock, trying to figure out how to go on with your life from here.

But how could you? This realization felt like the worst thing that’s ever happened to you—right after becoming friends with Fred Weasley himself.

You must’ve stood frozen in place for too long because he caught your eye and was now waving you over with his typical charming smile while the people around him were continuing their conversation, oblivious to the turmoil inside you. You briefly considered turning around and running away, but you decided against it. That would make this situation even more awkward than it already was.

Taking a deep breath and mustering a wobbly smile, you made your way over to the Gryffindor table. You exchanged greetings with your friends and headed toward a seat, hoping to get as far away from Fred as you could. But, of course, Fred had other plans. With a grin, he shoved Lee aside and proudly declared the seat next to him as free.

Bloody hell, he was making it hard for you. It’s as if he knew and wanted to torture you now that you had finally realized your true feelings. Feelings that didn’t actually exist; denial was your new best friend.

With no other choice, other than making this one hell of an uncomfortable situation for everyone, you reluctantly sat down next to him, trying to put as much distance between you two as possible.

But to no avail. As soon as you sat down Fred swung his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. “Thank Merlin you’re here. Could you be a darling and tell our idiotic friends that Snape does in fact secretly love me and that is the only reason he so often chooses to see me after class?”

‘Darling’ and ‘secretly loves me’, seemed to be the only thing your brain registered, not to mention that arm still wrapped around you. Has he always been this physically affectionate with you? It was hard to remember because Fred was looking at you expectantly as if he were waiting for something and…

Finally, your brain catches up, “Oh, that my dear Fred, is what we call detention. And wouldn't you know it, you're supposed to be there... like right now!" You playfully glanced at your imaginary wristwatch.

You could practically see the second he realized you were right. In a hurry, he jumped up from his seat and snatched the last food from his plate. But there was something important he seemed to have forgotten.

With a grin, you asked him, "Aren't you forgetting something?" Confusion washed over his face as he turned back to the table, searching for what he had missed, not finding anything. After a brief moment, he leaned down and surprised you with a kiss on your cheek. Speechless and mouth agape, you watched as the rest of the table erupted in snickers.

"You git!" you exclaimed, feeling your cheeks burn. "I meant your wand!"

Instead of being flustered like you, Fred found the whole situation hilarious. He joined in laughter with his friends and sent you a playful wink. With a glint in his eye, he swiftly retrieved his wand and innocently exclaimed, "Oops!" before making a speedy exit from the Great Hall.

Still trying to process what just happened, you turned to your friends, hoping they could provide the distraction and peace of mind you desperately needed.

Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, George decided to torture you. With a grin, he leaned in and asked if you've figured it out yet. Your whole body tensed up, and you found yourself desperately wishing for an escape.

In your horrified state, you managed to stammer out a weak, "W-What?" The anticipation of his response hung heavy in the air, and you braced yourself for the worst.

George burst into laughter, which echoed through the Great Hall, making everything feel ten times worse. You couldn’t help but feel exposed, as if your deepest secrets were on display for everyone to see.

Through his laughter, George managed to squeeze out, "Bloody hell. Looks like someone forgot the essay for McGonagall that's due tomorrow."

You breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that he had no idea. How could he? You yourself just figured it out. And you’d do anything to keep it that way. You won’t tell a soul about any of it and just pretend that things were normal.

✧

How naive could you be? How in your right mind could you ever think that keeping this from Fred was a possibility?

He knew you better than you knew yourself.

No matter how hard you tried to keep things like always it just wouldn’t go your way. First everything was completely normal, nothing out of the ordinary. You two would banter and share jokes. But as soon as he touched you in any way you panicked and run away from him.

You hadn’t realized how often he reached for you. It apparently had become like second nature for him.

At first you noticed the small touches, like accidentally bumping shoulders while walking together or him gently tapping your arm to get your attention.

But it was the larger gestures that pushed you to your breaking point, stirring up your traitorous heart even more. Like when he reached out and grabbed your hand in the bustling crowd of students during a visit to Hogsmead.

But the absolute worst was when he would slide in next to you, casually drape his arm around your shoulder and pull you close, all while effortlessly engaging in conversation with someone else. And what made it even more unbearable was that no one seemed to bat an eye. It was as if this physical closeness was an unspoken agreement between the two of you, that no one remembered to inform you about.

But as much as you tried to subtly keep your distance you could tell that Fred knew something was wrong. He saw it in the way you would purposefully choose to sit the furthest away from him even when the seat next to him was unoccupied.

You saw the confusion in his eyes when you started to avoid going to Hogsmead with the excuse of finishing your school work. He knew that this was never something that stopped you from spending time with him or your friends.

Since that first year you met Fred on the train, he’d been a constant presence in your life. You stumbled upon Fred and George pulling a prank on their older brother Percy. Instead of telling on them, you decided to join in on the mischief. As a result, Percy ended up with boils all over his face. From that moment on, you and Fred became inseparable. So, when you suddenly started pulling away without any explanation, it felt like the most awful thing you could do to him.

And you could tell that it was hurting Fred too. He wasn't the type to wear his heart on his sleeve; in fact, quite the opposite. But after all the years you've known him, you were priding yourself on understanding him better than most people in his life. He would never outright admit it, but your actions were causing him pain.

He would extend his hand, reach out, but as soon as he noticed that you turned away from him, he would pull back. In that fleeting moment, you could see the hurt and confusion reflected in his eyes, mirroring the hurt you were experiencing.

He even attempted to talk about it once. Normally, he would rely on laughter to uplift your spirits rather than delve into the realm of emotions. So when he approached you before your class, specifically to ask if you were okay, it created an awkward conversation for the both of you. All you could do was promise him, that if anything was wrong, you’d tell him.

What a lie.

His genuine concern shattered your heart. But it wasn't just him who could sense that something was off. You noticed how your friends would exchange worried glances every time you came up with a new excuse to avoid spending time with Fred.

Being around him became an unbearable risk, fearing that he might somehow discover your true feelings for him. It wasn’t just a simple crush; your feelings ran deeper, more intense.

Every time you witnessed his infectious laughter or his ability to light up the entire room with his jokes, a swarm of butterflies erupted in your stomach, consuming you from within. The guilt of keeping such a significant secret from him and the rest of your friends gnawed at you. But the thought of confessing your feelings and potentially jeopardizing everything held you back.

It has gotten to the point where you chose to spend your free time in the library. You knew that he would never step foot inside of it. So this place became your sanctuary.

But you should’ve known better. Fred Weasley may not be an overly emotional person but he was stubborn to no end.

One night after dinner, that ended with you leaving the table as soon as possible and an excuse, truthful this time, to do your unfinished homework you returned to the only place that felt safe from Fred.

There were only a few students left in the library. You grabbed your Charms Book and settled into a quiet corner, hoping to review your homework for Professor Flitwick.

But your silence was soon disturbed by the one person you wanted to avoid. Which was not entirely true.

The situation hurt, but you couldn’t help wanting to see him — even if only from afar.

Fred appeared to be searching for you because the moment your eyes met, he marched over to where you were sitting.

"Back to doing homework, huh?" he asked, glancing at your table.

"Actually, yes," you replied honestly.

“Oi, sod off. I know you mostly just sit here doing nothing — Lee saw you, you know?” he said.

“I don’t know what Lee thinks he saw but that’s not the truth. This is a library. I study,” you argued.

“Listen, I know you’ve been avoiding me. And I have no idea what I could’ve done. You’ve been blowing me off left and right. You’re being pretty obvious and I think it’s time we had this discussion.”

You stared at him, eyes wide open. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I already told you, everything is fine.”

“Come off it! We’ve been friends for years and I know when something’s off. You’ve been avoiding me and you have been for weeks. I’m done pretending like I don’t know that. And things aren’t fine since you won’t tell me what it is. What’s this really about?” his voice was low, but you could feel his anger seeping through.

But you couldn’t tell him; too much was at stake. You’d lose your best friend. Even the thought alone was too much to bear.

“Fred, please. I just… I can’t explain it to you,” you pleaded.

“Why the hell not? I’m your friend!” You appreciated his concern, but his persistence was becoming overwhelming. “If everything truly was fine you wouldn’t be hiding here all the time! What’s going on?” he demanded, clearly just wanting answers, answers you couldn’t give him.

“I really can’t tell you. Please, I’m begging you, let it go.” Keeping this from him was killing you. You felt awful holding this secret from him. Deep inside you entertained the notion that he felt the same, but doubts held you back. It was pain-filled hiding something so important from a person that meant so much to you. You wished that he felt the same way, but fear gripped you tight.

Fred's anger was palpable, evident from the fury etched on his face. Madam Pince was shooting both of you disapproving glances. You secretly hoped that she would kick you out, giving you an excuse to escape this conversation.

“No, I’m not giving up. I deserve answers and I’m not leaving until I get them, understood?” He defiantly took a seat right in front of you.

You remained silent, refusing to speak another word. The more he pushed, the harder it became to keep this from him.

“I’ve got all night. Nowhere else to be,” he stated, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you. Still refusing to speak, you turned your attention back to your essay, hoping he would eventually relent.

After a few minutes, he broke the silence. His voice now calm and his expression blank. No trace of anger or irritation. It almost seemed like he had come to accept the situation.

“Maybe this is for the best. You clearly don’t want to talk to me, so I’ll guess I won’t bother you anymore,” he said in a monotone voice, before he abruptly stood up and started to walk away, not looking back once.

Hot panic was surging through your veins and in an instant you jumped up, to go after him. Realizing that you were about to lose him either way, you took a chance.

“I like you!” The words echoed through the quiet library, their volume seemingly too loud for the stillness around you. He paused in his tracks, but didn't turn around. Unable to see his reaction, you continued, thinking maybe it was better this way, shielded from the potential disgust his face might reveal.

"I like you, and I'm really sorry, okay? I just need some time to sort things out and get over these feelings. I promise, but right now, I can't be around you. Not right now. That's why I've been avoiding you. Please, please don't hate me," with every word, your desperation spilled out, raw and unfiltered, while your eyes began to burn.

As Fred slowly turned around, his expression was unreadable, and it felt like everything was falling apart. Immediate regret was filling you up. Maybe, if you would’ve stayed silent and kept on ignoring what was going on inside of you, there would have been a chance to mend the friendship later on. But now, it felt like it might be too late.

“You like me?” he asked, his voice filled with bewilderment.

“Please, don’t make me say it again,” you pleaded, feeling overwhelmed by the situation.

His expression slowly transformed into a wide smile, "You're not kidding. You actually like me?"

Confused and feeling a sense of panic, you asked, "Why are you smiling at me like that?"

Fred's grin widened, making him look like a complete idiot, "I can't control it. You've just made me the happiest person in the world. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been hoping to hear those words?"

Silence filled the air. Your heart skipped a beat. "What?"

“I like you too, I was just waiting for you to catch up,” he confessed with a soft grin, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"So, that's why you were always touching me?" you asked, trying to make sense of it all.

He let out a loud laugh, quickly quieted by a stern look from Madam Pince. He sent her an apologetic smile before refocusing on you and speaking in a hushed tone.

"And here I thought I was being smooth about it. I've been trying to let you know for a while now, actually."

“Bloody hell. You mean you felt the same all this time? Why on earth didn't you say anything?" You were in disbelief, feeling like you were in a dream. Maybe you had dozed off while reading about The History and Evolution of Enchantments and Charms Throughout the Ages.

"Well, why didn't you?" he asked.

"You've got me there," you said with a quiet laugh, looking down at the ground. After a moment of silence, you glanced up and saw him smiling softly at you.

"So... what's the plan now?" you asked, seeking some clarity.

"You like me, I like you. It's pretty clear, isn't it?" he responded.

You squinted your eyes at him, still not fully convinced.

"Now I can touch you as much as I want, and you can't escape anymore," he said with a mischievous grin, taking a step closer until he stood right in front of you.

"Oh, Merlin. You're a git," you exclaimed, unable to hold back a laugh. "Why on earth do I like you again?"

“Because I’m just that irresistible, obviously,” he laughed, joining in with you.

You placed your hand on his chest and playfully gave him a nudge. But before you could pull away, he surprised you by grabbing your hand. As you looked down at his hand enveloping yours, he posed a question. "So, about you admitting you like me... do you wanna back that up with a kiss?"

"Mhm, I'll have to think about that," you teased, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not sure if you deserve it, to be honest."

He grinned cheekily and retorted, "Oh, I definitely deserve it. What have I ever done to not deserve it?"

“Let’s try and remember. Just last week you-”

As you were about to list all the things he had done, he surprised you again by silencing your words with a passionate kiss. In that moment, your thoughts faded into insignificance, consumed by the intensity of the kiss. His hand gently caressed your cheek, deepening the connection between you. Your emotions were running wild, and it felt as if your body was ablaze.

After a moment or an hour, he pulled back, and you took a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. Opening your eyes, you gazed up at him.

"Sorry, I interrupted you. What were you saying?" he asked, his playful tone laced with a hint of mischief.

“I can’t remember,” you murmured, connecting your lips with his once more.

You’d been wrong all along—falling for your best friend might have been the best idea of all.

[hotshotsxyz]

this town is only gonna eat you

(buddie) (s8 spec) (1.1k) already wrote some buck-gets-hit-by-a-car spec, so how about some buck-gets-shot? kept thinking about "take eddie [to the laker's game] and die" and uh... here we are. cw: mass shooting/ gun violence (described vaguely), somewhat graphic description of a bullet wound, blood

Buck is smiling when it happens. Grinning at Eddie like he hung the fucking moon as he points out what must be the hundredth interesting play he’s seen on the court tonight. Buck’s smiling.

Eddie registers the screams before the gunfire. He smells the metallic scent of spent shell casings before he sees the shooter. He tackles Buck to the ground before he realizes he’s already hurt.

Buck was smiling, but now his face is inches from Eddie’s and his eyes are wide with pain and panic.

“Eds,” he says, and it’s barely above a whisper but it’s still too loud.

Eddie shakes his head, a tiny, sharp movement. Buck takes a shaky breath and presses his lips together. He understands. Eddie hates that he understands. Thank God he understands.

There’s something warm and wet slowly spreading between them, and it takes Eddie several wasted seconds to realize it’s blood. He’s almost completely certain it isn’t his, which—

God, that’s so much worse than if it was.

One of Eddie’s hands is still cradling Buck’s head, an instinctive act of protection before they hit the ground. With the other, Eddie slowly begins feeling his way around Buck’s abdomen. His fingers brush against torn fabric and he feels nauseous.

I’m sorry, he mouths before pressing down hard.

Buck gasps in pain. A muscle in his jaw ticks with the effort it must take him to keep from screaming.

“You’re doing so good,” Eddie breathes into Buck’s ear. “I’ve got you; I promise.”

The bullet caught him somewhere along the fifth intercostal space on the right side of his chest. Eddie doesn’t have a way to feel for an exit wound, not without letting up pressure on what he knows is there.

At best, the bullet glanced off a rib and tore through nothing but skin and muscle. At worst…

At worst, Buck is dying beneath him and there’s not a damn thing Eddie can do, not until the shooter is dead or gone. All Eddie can do is pray. Pray and hope like hell that God has forgiven him for his incomplete confession.

Another spray of gunfire echoes through the arena. It’s nearly impossible to identify where it’s coming from, but Eddie’s got a vague idea based on the direction people seem to be running in.

Buck takes a ragged, watery breath.

For the first time in his life, Eddie hopes he’s crying. He draws back, just far enough to look Buck in his eyes. His eyes, which are clouded over in pain but free from tears.

Fuck, fucking goddamn it.

Eddie presses his cheek against Buck’s.

“Slow, steady breaths, okay?” he whispers. “You have to breathe through it, even if it feels like you can’t.”

The tiniest whimper escapes Buck’s chest.

“You have to, Buck, I can’t—” Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and takes a shuddering breath. “I just need you to hold on,” he begs.

A single shot rings out, and nearby, something falls to the ground with a dull thump.

“Suspect is down!” someone shouts. “We’re clear for EMS.”

Eddie carefully extricates his hand from behind Buck’s head. “Hear that? We’re so close, Buck.” He brushes a thumb across his cheekbone, then sits up and raises his hand in the air. “Over here!” he shouts. “I’ve got a penetrating chest wound that needs to be on the first ambo out of here!”

Buck’s eyelashes flutter as he fights to stay conscious.

“Come on, eyes on me,” Eddie says.

With his free hand and his teeth, he tears a strip of fabric from his shirt to wad up and press into Buck’s wound.  The skin there is ragged and torn, almost certainly an exit wound. Eddie curses.

“I need EMS now!” Eddie roars, not tearing his eyes away from Buck for even a second.

“I’m coming to you!” someone calls back.

Buck’s eyes slip shut.

“No!” Eddie commands, rubbing his knuckles across Buck’s sternum. “You’re staying right here with me, you got it?”

Buck groans weakly. His eyes flick back open.

“That’s perfect, you’re perfect,” Eddie babbles. “Just keep—c’mon, Buck, just keep fighting. I need—you have to be okay.”

Buck’s lips part. “Hurt,” he breathes.

“I know,” Eddie says desperately, “I know it hurts, I’m sorry.”

A pained sound falls from Buck’s lips. He lifts one of his hands just high enough to ghost his fingers along the ruined hem of Eddie’s shirt.

Behind him, Eddie hears a gurney roll to a stop.

“Here!”

Eddie turns and find a young woman, no more than twenty years old, wearing a polo that declares her part of a private ambulance service. He doubts she’d weigh even a hundred pounds soaking wet.

“Alright,” he says, turning back to Buck. “I’m going to get you onto that gurney. Let me do all the work, okay?”

Buck’s eyes widen. He makes a strangled sound. “Hurt,” he coughs out again, fingers scrambling uselessly against the concrete floor of the arena.

“They’re gonna give you the good stuff at the hospital,” Eddie reassures. He lets go of Buck’s wound and pulls him into a seated position, then rolls him awkwardly onto his back. “I got you,” he says as he stands.

Eddie staggers beneath Buck’s weight but manages to get him down three rows worth of steps and onto the gurney without the young EMT’s help.

“We’re staged just outside the north entrance,” she says as she begins to push Buck toward a set of doors.

Eddie nods sharply. “He’s got a perforating chest wound, probable pulmonary laceration, and a history of pulmonary embolism. Allergic to naproxen,” he rattles off as he pushes the gurney alongside her.

“Um, okay, that’s—are you a doctor or something?” she asks.

“Firefighter,” Eddie corrects. “We both are.”

The closer they get to the exit, the harder Eddie has to work to keep pace with the EMT. He must be coming down hard as the adrenaline fades. A few spots cloud the corners of his visions. He blinks them away.

The doors to the outside fling open, revealing two paramedics from the 136.

“Diaz, is that you?” one of them asks.

The best Eddie can do is nod.

“Shit, and that’s—”

Eddie’s ears start to ring.

“Diaz, were you shot?”

No, he tries to say. One of the paramedics grabs him under the shoulders, and the other pushes his t-shirt up until—

Oh.

Huh.

He has been shot.

The paramedic in front of him is saying something, but Eddie can’t quite understand it. Over his shoulder, the EMT looks blurry and horrified.

The spots in his vision return with a vengeance, and in his last few moments of lucidity, it occurs to Eddie that the bullet in his abdomen is probably the same one that ripped through Buck’s chest.

Then, the world fades to black, and Eddie thinks nothing at all.  

[gogogoat495]

[ID: Ao3 comment by Light_It_On_Fire reading "Hi, I like words and I especially like these word put in this order." /End ID]

props for possibly my fav comment on AO3 ever

[ganxiously]

So, it turns out what I needed to get out of my writer's block was soul-wrenching grief and heart-crushing disappointment. And while I am happy about that (to an extent), I also wish my muse wasn't angst because I think I am hurting myself writing this fic and I need to now make it everyone else's problem.

Sitting there in the dark, on Eddie’s sofa, curled in on himself like it’s supposed to do anything to hold him together, one thought pops into his head, bright, neon red and in bold among the constant litany of boorish, black ‘This is all my fault’ — All of this is because I didn’t know what a Kinsey six is. The thought is unexpected enough that Buck unfurls a little, wondering where it came from and then he remembers their anniversary date. The memory leaves him breathless but he is curious enough to push past the newly burgeoning hurt and take out his phone. A quick Google reveals it to be the rating for ‘exclusively homosexual’ on the Kinsey scale so he looks that up next and as he’s debating whether to start from Wikipedia first or dive right into the Kinsey Institute website, his eyes land on the conspicuous ‘test online’ button right below the search bar. A part of him doesn’t want to find out, doesn’t want anyone else telling him what he is but the taunt is too much. If you had known, if you had just taken a moment to figure yourself out, maybe you could have said something. Maybe you could have stopped him before he walked away. He clicks on the first test that pops up, looks at the first question, goes to select option 1 and then stops and stares. ‘To whom are you attracted?’ should be an easy question to answer but the confidence to not think much has left him. He could easily choose ‘Both men and women’ but would that even be correct? He’s been so sure that he has felt attraction towards men a few times in the past but what if that was a mild interest at best? After all, no one had really pinged his radar the way Tommy had. He looks at the next question and that’s when the panic really starts to set in because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if he prefers men over women or if he just prefers Tommy over women, over everyone else. What if Tommy is the outlier and he prefers women over men after all? The pressure in his chest becomes more and more painful the longer he stares at it so he closes the test and opens the next one on the list. That one starts off mild. The way the first question is framed makes it easy to answer that yes, while he mostly notices women, the occasional man does turn his eyes. The next one asks what he would be comfortable in calling himself and he thinks he could get away with calling himself bisexual but then there’s an option saying ‘could be bisexual but not sure if that’s correct‘. And again the thought hits, What if it’s just Tommy? He debates it briefly and then gives in and chooses the latter option. He breezes through the next couple of questions because he is at least sure that he would find it desirable to kiss people from both genders but then they hit him with the sexual preference question again. He backs out so fast his phone nearly slips out of his hand and with a sigh of frustration, he clicks on the next test. That turns out worse because the very first question stalls him and so it continues again and again and again until tears start prickling at the corner of his eyes and his breath starts coming in sharp, short bursts pulling his throat tight but not taking any air to his lungs. He keeps at it until there’s one more nameless person behind one more useless test clamouring at him, Tell us, tell us, tell us. Tell us you know what you want. He hurls the phone across the room, thankful when instead of landing on the floor, it silently hits the backrest of Eddie’s armchair and slides down into the crease with a swoosh. He should get up and retrieve it, he should go home really but what he does instead is let his head fall forward onto his raised knees and give in to the caricatured voice of his mind telling him, Of course, he thought you would break his heart. Look at yourself, you idiot.

This is basically just the set-up for the fic but rest assured I am dragging Buck down to the trenches before I let him swim up to Tommy again.

[sassytommykinard]

Out of the Woods

Well. That episode....was a thing that happened.

Well, good news, guys! I've decided it didn't. Isn't that fun? I didn't think I'd be up to writing for them, but I've marshaled myself with the help of the bucktommy community. I really hope it helps you guys to read it as much as it helped me to write it.

Title from the song of the same name by Taylor Swift.

bucktommy - Words: 2.1k - Rating: T - complete

8x06 fix-it fic, so spoilers for that, obviously.

“Please stay,” Evan pleads, Tommy can hear the edges of tears in his voice, and his own eyes fill against his will. “Please don’t leave; talk to me. This isn’t the guy who agreed to go to my sister’s wedding with me. This isn’t the guy who took care of me after I dislocated my shoulder and went to a funeral for a dead outlaw just because I asked him to.” Tommy raises his hand and wipes his eyes before turning slowly. Evan’s still sitting on the island, looking at him pleadingly. Tommy walks back to his seat and sits down, and Evan exhales slowly. “Thank you,” he says and Tommy sees his hand shift slightly, as though to take Tommy’s but he doesn’t. Tommy wishes he would.

Read on Ao3

Tag list (please let me know if you'd like to be removed):

@desert--moonchild, @sazzynatural, @multishippinghussy, @mmso-notlikethat, @tommy-kinard-buckley,

@sunnywithachanceofbi, @sleepywinchesters, @buck-up-buckley, @manifestingchaoticvibes, @corvid-cryptidd

@lbltpsmspenguin, @theotherbuckley, @cliophilyra, @actuallyitsellie, @waywaychuck,

@talktonytome, @misstommykinard, @the-omniscient-narrator, @bobbinsnash, @a-mel0n

@hyperfocusthusly, @mayorjack, @relationshipdatinglove, @marvelousbuckley, @swagmaster9k

@byunbuckjunmy, @rutathenurse

[tomatette]

Here is my (incredibly late!) 2nd @kyluxbigbang piece for @sinningsquire's amazing fic ’In a cabin far, far away’.

Give this fic all your love, it is more than deserved <3 Thank you, Squire, for being so patient with me. I loved to work with you!!

[emmawithtwoms]

Madame Puddifoot's

@wolfstarmicrofic day 10 -156 words

“So…”

“So…”

“Here we are”

“Apparently”

“Should we…?”

“I guess so… we’re here after all”

“The I guess you should open the door”

“Yeah, yeah, just…”

“Sirius”

“Yes Remus?”

“What the fuck are we doing?”

“I guess… going on a romantic date? Like everybody else?”

“Sirius”

“Yes Remus?”

“This place is… pink”

“Yes”

“Too pink”

“I mean… I guess?” 

“Sirius”

“Yes Remus?”

“Are we really about to go drink tea at Madam Puddifoot’s?”

“I… guess? Isnìt this what a date is supposed to be like?”

“I-I don’t really know, I’ve never really dated before”

“All the girls I dated wanted to come here to have a romantic date”

“Yeah, but did you actually enjoy it?”

“Not really, but I didn’t even properly like them, not like I like you”

“Sirius”

“Yes Remus?”

“Do you want to go to The Three Broomstick to drink a butterbeer?”

“Gladly”

“Let’s go then, love”

“I love you so much, Moony”

Ps: Idk really know what I was doing with this, I just wanted to improve my dialogue writing skills (Is that even a thing?)

[kinardsevan]

5 stages of grief: anger

here's my next foray into dealing with this god-awful (hopefully temporary) breakup. I don't have a title for it yet. (although I've had The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived on a loop while writing it.)

. .

“What do you want from me, Tommy,” he growls across the bedroom. “What? You want to know how many times I fucked Declan? Or what about Derek? Or maybe you want to hear about he time I hooked up with Ali and her boyfriend Jake. Or maybe you want to hear about the nights people were gutsy enough to slip something into my drink.” 

Tommy’s eyes go wide at the statement, his jaw slack, but he doesn’t speak. 

“Or is even that not good enough for you,” Evan continues, hot angry tears coming down his face suddenly. “Do you need to hear about the guy who fucked me against the bathroom sink when I couldn’t stand? Surprised Eddie didn’t call you after that missed work shift. O-or when Tyler and Hadley thought that I would-..” 

“Okay,” Tommy says commandingly, pushing up from the bed then. 

“No,” Evan argues back. “You said I needed to go out and fucking figure myself out because you couldn’t possibly be my first and last, and I fucking did it. And you know what?” 

Tommy stills as he stops just a few inches in front of him, his expression solemn as he looks down into those blue eyes. 

“What, baby?” 

Evan’s expression hardens. “No. You don’t get to call me-…” He inhales a breath, flooded with rage with his hands fisted at his side. “You-…” 

Tommy can’t take it after that. Whether Evan wants it or not, he pulls him in tightly and holds him, rocking him back and forth as the younger man pounds his fists at his ex-boyfriend’s shoulders and tries to shove him off until he exhausts himself and just gives in. 

“I’m sorry, Evan,” he repeats over and over again, continuously combing a hand down the back of his head. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It never got better,” he sobs into Tommy’s neck. “They were never-…they-…” Tommy does’t needs to hear him say it. Doesn’t need Evan to say out loud that they weren’t him. He gets it. 

“I know,” he whispers calmly to Evan. “I know.” 

[n0vazsq]

Way of the heart | OP81 x Reader

pairing . . . oscar piastri x racing!engineer!reader

summary . . . After a tough race, Oscar has nothing to look forward to more than spending time with (Y/n)

request . . . kind of?

word count . . . 1.1k

warnings . . . none!

alexavia yaps . . . i really hate this one for some reason like its not the best i could do but i wanted to write something so yeah!! the person who wanted this (im sorry i forgot your user), if you want another story i will totally write it!! tysm for asking <3

Oscar slumped into the chair in the back of the team garage, still in his racing suit, the helmet beside him on the floor. Today’s race had been brutal, everything going wrong until he finally crossed the finish line in a place he didn’t even want to remember. No matter how much he tried to forget it, the disappointment still clung to him.

As the crew packed up around him, you walked over, carrying a bottle of water and a quiet look of understanding. You’d worked with Oscar long enough to know when he needed a moment to think and when he needed someone to remind him he wasn’t alone. Today, he needed the latter.

“Rough day,” you said softly, offering him the bottle. He accepted it with a quick nod, cracking it open but not taking a sip.

“Understatement of the year,” he muttered, letting out a short, frustrated sigh. “Everything went wrong, didn’t it? Every call, every turn… feels like I let everyone down out there.”

You didn’t rush to disagree or to tell him it was all fine because you knew Oscar didn't want you to. Instead, you waited a bit, giving him the space to breathe.

“You know, racing’s a lot like life. Sometimes it’s out of our control, even when we do everything right. We all saw you fight today,” you said gently. “One tough race doesn’t define who you are as a driver.”

He glanced up, the frustration in his eyes softening as he met your steady gaze. “Thanks,” he said, managing a faint smile. “Not sure what I’d do without you, honestly.”

You laughed lightly, leaning against the wall beside him. “Lucky for you, I’m sticking around, win or lose.”

His smile widened a little, and after a few moments of quiet, he stood up, finally letting go of some of the weight he’d carried off the track. “Hey,” he said, glancing at his watch, “I know it’s late, but do you want to grab some food? Just… need to be somewhere that’s not here.”

The restaurant he picked was cozy, tucked away from the noise and chaos that followed you on racing weekends. He knew you’d love it, remembering how you mentioned your love for Italian food

When you walked in, his heart skipped a beat. You wore a smile that was both warm and teasing, the one that always seemed to make everything feel a little less overwhelming.

He stood, smiling sheepishly. “Hey, you look… great,” he said, his voice a little unsteady. The nerves of the race had melted away, replaced by a different kind of nervousness that he couldn’t ignore.

You grinned, taking a seat across from him. “Thanks, Piastri. It’s nice to see you in a non-race setting for once. And I have to say, you look pretty good.”

He laughed, glancing down at his simple outfit. “I tried, y’know, for you.”

The waiter took your orders, and as the evening went on, you two spoke about anything and everything but racing. The conversation drifted easily from favorite movies to random childhood memories. You two talked about wild stories and embarassing moments, laughing at every single thing.

But Oscar’s mind kept wandering back to you. How you’d been there every step of his career, how you’d seen him at his worst and still chose to believe in him. At one point, as you were laughing at a joke he’d told, he couldn’t help but stare a little, his heart pounding in a way that felt completely different from the adrenaline of racing.

The laughter quietened down, and a comfortable silence fell between you both. Oscar looked down at his hands, trying to think of what he wanted to say. “You know,” he began, a little quieter now, “you mean a lot to me. More than just… my engineer or friend.”

You looked up, your expression softening, and he felt his courage swell just a bit. “I think I realized that today, after everything went bad on the track. Just seeing you there, not judging me, not telling me what I should’ve done differently, just… being there. It made all the difference.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’d be there no matter what, Oscar. You’re a brilliant driver and a good person. Bad race or not, that doesn’t change.”

His cheeks flushed, a warmth spreading through him. He turned his hand to hold yours, letting the silence speak for itself. And for a moment, all the disappointment and frustration faded, replaced by a quiet joy that he hadn’t expected to feel tonight.

Later, you walked together under the night sky, the cool breeze a welcome contrast to the warm evening inside. He found himself wishing the walk could last forever, just the two of you, away from the chaos of everything.

Eventually, you both settled on a bench with a view of a beautiful fountain. The sound of the water filled the quiet spaces between you, and he reached over, slipping his hand into yours again, holding it with a confidence he hadn’t felt earlier.

“This feels perfect,” you murmured, leaning against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I wish every night could be like this.”

You let out a soft laugh, resting against him. “It’d be easier if we weren’t always at a race or in different cities every other week.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, looking out at the fountain. “But I think… I think it’s worth it.”

You turned to him, your gaze meeting his with a warmth that made his heart race. He took a deep breath, the words he’d been holding back finally finding their way out.

“Do you… maybe want to meet my family? Make it official?” he asked, his voice a little uncertain but hopeful.

You raised your eyebrows, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Oscar, I think we’re already there. You didn’t have to ask. And of course, I'd love to meet your family.”

He chuckled, feeling a weight lift as his heart swelled with happiness. “Then consider this official.” He leaned in, taking your lips in a kiss.

The kiss made butterflies fill your stomach, it was soft, but also made you crave more. It was something magical, like straight out of a movie. Oscar had his hands on your waist, and yours tangled in his hair. It somehow made it more intimate, more personal. You didn't want it to end.

When you finally pulled back, the smile on your face was everything Oscar ever wanted to see.

Hand in hand, you walked back to the car, and for the first time that night, Oscar felt a sense of peace, knowing that no matter what happened on the track, he’d always have you there, his biggest supporter, his steady presence.

And with you by his side, he knew he could face anything that came his way.

[angstandhappiness]

NICE

...Their face darkens. “I told you no weapons.” Narinder’s smile is dripping with their own blood as he laughs and sways, low and maddening. “You said nothing against teeth.” They cannot tell if it’s the drink or the adrenaline that burns heat to the tip of their ears, but blood pools behind their irises with it, and Lambert runs for him again...

TRoD AU and writing belongs to @bamsara

[cringefailvox]

“We missed you, you big baby,” she says, and Alastor laughs wetly, muffled. “You got a lot of explaining to do, but hell, you’re still one of us.” “Frankly,” Vox says, “if you actually tried to leave, I would lock you up in the basement.” Valentino sighs affectionately, squeezing Alastor’s hand. “He doesn’t mean that.” “I very much mean that.” Alastor wants to say something along the lines of “I would be offended by anything less,” but when he tries to speak, all that comes out, horrifyingly, is a crackly sob. But it just makes Vox’s arms tighten around him, so, whatever. There are worse things.

or: some extremely soft and likely ooc radiovees because the world is a nightmare right now and i think we could all use something gentle

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 28 - No-holds-barred beatdown, exposure, used as bait

CONTINUATION TO DAY 13 go read that one if you haven’t (or if you need a refresher it’s been so long lol)

Hi I'm still kicking <3 only three left after this, I WILL be finishing these, NO MATTER WHAT RAAAAAH. my goal is to be done before the 15th but we'll see how that goes. I'm going to try 😓

The prompts used aren’t the best, but they were the only ones that even vaguely fit lol. The third one doesn’t even come into effect until the very end. Also this was only going to be one more part. but. they kept talking.

Warnings: violence, injury, a handful of previous warnings from day 13

Day 13

ao3 link

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

Sky and Warriors woke up at the same time.

Twilight stirred from his spot on the ground, having let his mind wander as he’d waited. His body still ached a bit, and it wasn't helped by his stint on the cold floor, but he sat up anyway as Warriors’ eyelids fluttered, and a squeaky moan came from Time’s back, Sky’s tail flicking. Twilight looked between the two, then went to Sky first, since strangely enough it seemed like he was waking up faster.

Legend sat next to Warriors, saying something to him as he woke, and Time watched the two with slightly narrowed eyes. He looked at Twilight as he walked up, flicking an ear as Warriors let out a disbelieving noise and Legend squawked angrily.

“Here,” Time said, carefully leaning over and sliding Sky off his back. “I’m going to go make sure Legend doesn’t bite him. And that the captain doesn’t stomp our veteran by accident. Or on purpose.”

Twilight nodded, and sat down next to Sky as his blue eyes flickered open.

“Easy Sky,” Twilight woofed as he moved a little, and Sky twitched his nose.

“Ow...” he groaned, and Twilight gave his ear a gentle lick. “...Oh, hey rancher... why’re you so big?” he asked blearily, squinting as he tried to sit up. His paws slipped out from under him though, and Sky stared at them in bewilderment, the expression honestly adorable on his furry face. He wiggled a few toes, and stared at the fur and claws, blinking in shock.

“Rancher?” Sky repeated in more of an alarmed voice. “What’s going on?”

“Short version? We all got turned into animals,” Twilight admitted, giving Sky a little push with his snout in order to help him sit up when he tried again. “We fell down here and all transformed somehow. You’re one of those cat things on your island, a... was it a remake?”

“A remlit,” Sky corrected, sounding a little calmer, but still disturbed. He studied his paws, and tilted his head back, trying to look at his ears and tail. “Huh. Just like Legend that one time. Those... women did this to us?”

“Yep, the creepy voice ones. Or something down here did, we’re not exactly sure. But it’s their fault somehow,” Twilight confirmed, and watched intently as Sky shakily stood up, paws trembling. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m— yeah. This is just... weird,” he admitted. “I... this was dark magic, wasn’t it?”

“We think so, yeah.”

Sky frowned and looked around the dark cave, large ears swiveling, and both he and Twilight jumped as they heard a distressed whinny. Twilight whirled around, and saw Warriors attempting to get to his hooves, his legs wobbling underneath him.

“Easy Captain, don’t move too quickly,” Time warned, and Warriors snorted, tossing his head.

“Don’t ‘easy’ me, I’m not staying like this a moment longer than I have to!” Warriors said, nearly falling over. “Horses are fine, I like horses, but I don’t want to be one!”

“Actually you’re a unicorn,” Legend said helpfully, and Warriors huffed angrily as Time moved to his side, helping to steady him.

“Right. I’m a horse with a big pointy stick on my head. Wonderful.”

“At least you can stab things,” Legend continued, nose twitching in amusement. “You didn’t have a weapon before, and now you do. Besides, I think the horn really compliments your flowing locks.”

“I could almost say the same,” Warriors snorted. “Flowing locks indeed. Finally the mystery of the pink hair is solved. I wouldn’t have guessed a bunny rabbit would be the cause but you—”

“Now see here—”

“All right, that’s enough,” Time said with a sharp look at the both of them. “Captain, are you feeling all right? We all saw how rough that transformation was.”

“I’m fine,” Warriors mumbled, pawing at the floor.

Twilight glanced back at Sky, who was sniffing at the scratches on his side with a wince on his face. He’d managed to stand by himself though, and so Twilight moved over to Warriors, the captain’s legs still wobbling.

“Relax Captain, we’re going to fix this,” Twilight reassured, and Warriors made another annoyed sound, his tail swishing.

“So long as we don’t need opposable thumbs,” he said. Twilight sighed.

“We’ll manage, Captain. I know this isn’t ideal, but we’ll figure it out.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re used to having four legs,” Warriors said in a sharp voice, and Twilight flattened his ears in annoyance.

“I’m stuck like this too, Captain. Just because I’m more used to four legs doesn’t mean I don’t want my regular ones back,” Twilight snapped, his worry and fear at the whole situation abruptly bursting out. “Now if you’re done arguing with Legend we still don’t know where half our group is, so if you’re able to walk without falling over let’s get going.”

Warriors blinked, obviously taken aback, and Twilight turned away from Time’s frown and stuck his nose up in the air to sniff for any more familiar scents.

The faintest hint of one that wasn’t rock or cave smell wafted by his nose, and Twilight turned in a slow circle, trying to pinpoint it. He caught a bigger whiff, and gestured with his head.

“I think I found someone else,” he said, and Time hummed in a growly way.

“Are you guys ready to move?” Legend asked, looking askance at both Sky and Warriors. Sky hesitated, his legs still wobbly, but when he walked around in a small circle he was able to keep his footing. Warriors gave a curt nod, his legs looking steadier, and he didn’t look over at Twilight.

Twilight felt a little sting of shame, but he swallowed it back. He could apologize later.

“This way,” he said, turning into the darkness, and the others followed along behind him, Warriors’ hooves clicking against the stone floor.

They kept the pace slow, in respect for both small and unsteady legs. Twilight felt impatience simmer under his fur, but he knew he couldn’t just run ahead. He was currently one of their few lines of defense, and who knew how many monsters might be around down here?

Sky and Legend walked together beside him, Sky asking questions about being an animal, Legend answering as well as he could. Warriors was obviously listening in as well, and Twilight even noticed Time’s ear swivel back when Legend started in on ways he dealt with fights.

Twilight... probably ought to be giving tips as well, he certainly had plenty of knowledge to draw on. But he was intent on following the scent, keeping a nose out for any others, watching for monsters, and also looking for a way out. Legend could handle the crash course in being an animal.

What a disaster.

Twilight sighed and kept sniffling, trying to identify exactly who’s scent it was he was following. He stepped past a couple large rocks that glowed faintly green, and as the scent grew steadily stronger, Twilight suddenly paused, his stomach sinking. Even with the strange overtone to it, he suddenly knew exactly who’s scent he was following.

He bolted, leaving the others behind, knowing the source of the scent was close. Twilight turned a corner, intently sniffing, and sure enough a few moments later his paw bumped into a small, grey-blue creature.

Twilight froze, and lowered himself to the floor, almost not believing what he was seeing.

“Oh boy... champion?” he asked, nuzzling gently at him. Wild don’t move, unconscious, and Twilight gave his head a small lick. “Hey, wake up for me?”

A chirrupy groan came from Wild’s still form, and his eyelids flickered, blues resting hazily on Twilight’s face.

“Mm... Twi?” he mumbled, ears twitching. “Where... ow... why does my whole body hurt?”

Twilight winced. “Well, it ah... might have to do with the fact that you’re a squirrel.”

Wild blinked slowly, his gaze still bleary. He flicked his ears again, twitched his tail once, then jerked to his feet with a completely flabbergasted expression.

“A WHAT?!” he yelped right as the others all rounded the corner and caught sight of him. Legend took one look at Wild’s bushy tail before his face cracked into a huge grin.

“Champion you’re— you’re a squirrel!” Legend spluttered, then burst into uproarious laughter, looking at Wild with pure glee on his face. “That’s the best thing I’ve seen all day!”

“IT’S NOT FUNNY!” Wild screeched, his fluffy tail sticking straight up. He looked a solid mixture of offended and freaked out. “WHAT’S FUNNY ABOUT TURNING INTO A SQUIRREL?!”

“It’s hilarious, actually,” Legend cackled, wheezing as he fell backwards, nearly tripping Sky. “A squirrel! No wonder you’re such a hoarder!”

Legend burst into another peal of laughter, and Wild stumbled backwards, every bit of him tense. Twilight moved towards him, and Wild let out a panicked little chirp.

“Wild, it’s okay,” Sky said, and Wild twitched his nose as Twilight gently nuzzled his head. He could hear Wild’s tiny heart beating like a drum.

“Are you hurt at all?” Time asked, and Wild shook his head, his tail lowering a little.

“No, I’m fine. I just... no. Don’t like this.”

Wild swiped a paw over his face as his nose twitched again, and Twilight very firmly held back the urge to laugh. Now was not the time, even if Wild being a squirrel was admittedly... rather hilarious. At least on par with Legend being a rabbit.

Maybe Farore has a sense of humor.

“Hey, you’ve just gotta adjust,” Legend said as he gave himself a shake, finally getting ahold of himself. “Just think how it could be worse. You could be a bug or something.”

“But I’m a squirrel!” Wild chittered frantically, his tail whirling all over the place. “I’m tiny! I’m defenseless! I can’t even hold a weapon like this!”

“Wow. What a hardship,” Legend said in a deadpan. “Being a small mostly-defenseless woodland creature.”

Wild opened his mouth to retort, then slowly closed it again, staring at Legend like he hadn’t truly looked at him until now.

“Oh. Uh... you’re... a pink blupee thing?”

“A rabbit. We all got transformed, Wild, calm down. I’m sure we'll be able to fix it,” Twilight reassured, and Wild groaned, pulling his tail over his face.

“I hate this. No thank you. Nope.”

“Join the club,” Warriors sighed, and Twilight sat down beside the little ball that was currently Wild, giving him another lick. Wild uncurled a little, looking at Twilight with thinly-hidden panic in his eyes, and Twilight’s chest tightened. Wild rarely looked so rattled.

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” he asked quietly, and Wild nodded.

“Just sore,” he said quietly. “That transformation was awful. Is... everyone else okay?”

“We don’t know. We haven’t found everyone yet,” Twilight explained with a sigh. “No sign of Hyrule, Wind, or Four.”

“But I’m sure we’ll find them,” Sky said hopefully, his large ears spread wide. “If nothing else I’ll be able to hear them with these big old things.”

Time chuckled, and Wild’s tail flicked around, the champion obviously still distressed. But he took a deep breath and sat up, determination in his eyes. Sky watched Wild’s tail swish around as he studied everybody’s animal forms, Sky’s pupils going wide, and suddenly shot out a paw to bap at it.

Wild jumped, and Sky immediately drew back, spouting apologies.

“Sorry! Sorry It caught my attention and I was just going to watch it but then I... I don’t know why I did that,” he finished in bewilderment.

Time let out a huff from nearby. “Instincts. Never know when they’re going to kick in. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve eaten rocks without thinking.”

Twilight wasn’t the only one who gave him a strange look at that.

Unfortunately none of them got to press the question, since right as Twilight opened his mouth to ask, a loud rumbling sound came from somewhere in the cave, the ground shaking under their feet.

Warriors stumbled, and Sky and Wild both fell over, the cave shaking so violently Twilight wondered if it was about to fall on their heads. He quickly positioned himself over the smallest members of the group, but the shaking abruptly stilled, and the cave went deathly quiet.

Then Twilight growled as a familiar voice suddenly spoke.

“You have all faced the magic and come out unbroken. You have passed the first stage,” the croaking voice echoed through the cave. “The second stage still remains. Survive and we will collect the chosen downstream at the crystal waters.”

“Good luck! I can’t wait for you to finish,” the other voice said excitedly, and Twilight saw Warriors flinch.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Legend growled, and Twilight saw Sky’s claws slide out.

“Return us to our normal bodies!” Warriors shouted, the whinny echoing off the walls.

“I don’t think she can understand you,” Wild pointed out, then raised himself to his hind legs, showing off the sword-shaped patch of white on his belly. “Here— RETURN US TO OUR NORMAL BODIES YOU CULTY FREAKS!”

There was no reply.

“I doubt she liked being called a freak,” Time said dryly.

“Yeah, probably not. But still. Rude,” Legend sniffed. “Guess we’ll just survive phase two then.”

“We need to find the others,” Twilight spoke up, unable to keep the worry from his voice. “Now.“

“She said we all survived the magic though, doesn’t that mean they’re all okay?” Wild spoke up, and Sky’s tail flicked worriedly.

“She didn’t say anything about other dangers, though.”

As if summoned, a monster’s howl rang through the tunnels, and everyone stiffened, heads turning toward the sound.

“Wild, Legend, on Twilight’s back, Sky, you sit on Time, we’ll save the most time,” Warriors said quickly, and Legend helped Wild scramble up onto Twilight’s back, Sky carefully moving to sit on Time’s. “I’d... take one of you, but I don’t know how steady I can keep myself.”

“I’ve got them,” Twilight reassured, noticing the frustration on Warriors’ face. Warriors met his gaze, and Twilight lowered his head, ears flicking down. An apology for earlier.

Warriors looked at him a moment, then nodded back, apologizing as well.

Twilight breathed out, a little of the nauseating emotions rolling around in him easing a bit. He may be tired, cold, hungry, in pain and worried, but that was no excuse to take it out on Warriors.

They needed to work together to get out of this mess.

They all rushed off, Warriors having trouble going at a pace much faster than a walk, but pushing himself anyway. That had been a victorious sort of monster cry, and they didn’t have time to waste. Even if Warriors kept tripping on his hooves and barely catching himself.

“So,” Wild said after a minute, and Twilight flicked an ear to show he was listening. “How come you and the old man are wolves while the rest of us are... everything else?”

“I was wondering that too,” Legend spoke up. “...I still think it’s beyond unfair.”

“I don’t know why,” Twilight admitted. “Your form says something about your person, they reflect your spirit... or it does in my case. Even though the circumstances are weird, I’m guessing it’s the same for the rest of you. I guess mine and Time’s just happen to be similar.”

“And I’m a squirrel,” Wild grumbled, and Twilight sighed.

“Yeah. Squirrels aren’t so bad though. They’re hardy, smart, good at climbing, jumping... besides, we can’t all be unicorns,” Twilight pointed out as he hopped over a rock, and Wild and Legend both let out small huffs of laughter.

“I guess not. Still pretty strange there’s so much variety,” Wild hummed. “I would’ve guessed we’d all be wolves.”

He was quiet for several seconds, and Twilight turned his attention back to navigating through the dark cave.

“...Wait a second, if our animal forms reflect us, and Legend is a bunny—”

“Don’t you dare finish that thought.”

Wild chittered out a laugh.

His amusement faded when another snarl echoed through the caves though, and Twilight exchanged a glance with Time, trotting even faster. If anyone was hurt because they couldn’t get to them in time, Twilight didn’t know what he would do.

The green rocks increased in frequency around them, the darkness of cave a bit less intense. Twilight could hear water now, and regular grumbles and snorts that sounded like monsters. Time caught Warriors when he tripped again, and they all ran down the sloping passageway.

They turned a corner, and Twilight’s eyes went wide.

An underground stream flowed in front of them, wide, but fast, water a crystalline blue so bright it looked unnatural. More of those green rocks were scattered in and around the water, and though Twilight couldn’t see colors the best as a wolf, he could tell the mix of them was rather pretty.

But more important than the water or rocks was the group of moblins on the other side, one dragging a motionless deer behind it, another trying to bat away something running around by its feet.

“Hey!” Wild shouted, and leapt off of Twilight’s back, rushing over to the stream and attempting to hop across the rocks. His paws skidded on the slippery stone, but he managed to hang on and keep going. Twilight barked for Legend to hold on, and jumped into the water, quickly swimming across.

The water was achingly cold, but Twilight ignored it and Legend’s small squeak of dismay, paddling as fast as he could. The current wasn’t too fast for him, and Twilight leapt onto the shore right as a moblin kicked the small figure at its feet, making it squeal in pain.

Whoever it was went flying, and Twilight lunged for the moblin, teeth bared. Legend clung to his fur as he bowled the moblin over, and Twilight heard Time snarl as well, a different monster screeching in pain.

The disgusting tang of monster blood got in his mouth as he snapped at the moblin, but Twilight didn't let go until it let out a dying gurgle and went limp. He raised his head, watching Time struggle with his own moblin, Sky trying to help where he could, and also saw Warriors hurriedly trying to cross the water beside Wild.

Nobody had reached the moblin dragging the deer by the leg though, and Twilight whirled towards it, leaping at the beast with his fangs bared.

It saw him coming, and dodged his lunge to its neck, Twilight’s teeth closing around its arm instead. It snarled in anger as it dropped the deer, then raised a large club above its head, eyes glinting maliciously. Twilight knew he wouldn’t be able to move in time to avoid it, but then Legend leapt off his back, attaching himself to the moblin’s face and scratching and kicking at it furiously.

It screeched, and Twilight bit it on the wrist, making it drop its weapon. The moblin gave its head a violent shake and Legend went flying, but the opening was what Twilight needed to leap forward and finally bury his teeth in its neck.

He heard a splash behind him, fear ratcheting into his throat, but he couldn’t let go until the moblin fell still and it was stubbornly refusing to do so.

Come on, die already! Twilight thought with a snarl, abruptly twisting his head to the side.

A sickening crack rang out, and the moblin finally fell still, its tongue lolling. Twilight felt a lurch in his stomach at the more violent instinct he’d given into, but he swallowed it back and spat blood from his mouth.

He turned back to the water, and felt a quick flicker of relief as he saw Time standing over Legend's limp form, viciously attacking anything that came nearby. There were only three moblins left now, and Warriors was attempting to handle the other two, Wild goading them on and distracting them while Warriors attacked with his hooves and horn.

Which just left the question of where Sky and the other animal had gone.

Twilight whined anxiously, looking around the bloody shore for any sign of them. There was a lot going on, but he was sure that he would’ve noticed one or the both of them being hurt.

Twilight suddenly saw splashing, and he hurried over to the water, ears pricking as he saw a lithe shape struggling towards the shore, Sky’s large ears visible beside it. Twilight leaned way out, prepared to jump in if necessary, and when both heads dipped below the water, Twilight quickly splashed in and gently snatched them both by the scruff.

He dragged them to shore and set them down, then frantically sniffed the both of them, Sky's scratches reopened, the other animal's tail bleeding.

“Are you two okay?” Twilight barked urgently, and the lithe, creamy colored animal nodded shakily as he scooted closer to Sky.

“I’m good,” Wind’s voice chirped tiredly from it, turning his head so that Twilight got a good look at the swirl of blue on his head and back. “Or good enough. This... is so weird.”

“Yeah,” Twilight agreed, then turned his attention to Sky, the poor remlit panting with exhaustion in a soggy heap on the ground. “You good buddy?”

“Give... me... a sec...” Sky coughed, a shiver running through him.

Twilight nodded, and glanced back at the battle just in time to see a moblin charging for them, eyes crazed.

Wind squealed in alarm and Twilight leapt to intercept the monster, snapping at its neck. Somehow it managed to dodge the attack, and abruptly slammed its club into his side, making Twilight yelp in pain.

He was knocked to the ground, but despite the pain he got back up almost instantly. The moblin was running for Sky, and a feral snarl escaped Twilight as he leapt back at the moblin again. This time he managed to knock it off-balance, and Twilight and the moblin went sprawling to the ground, snarls and the snapping of teeth ringing through the cave as they struggled.

Twilight ignored the sharp ache ringing up his side and focused only on taking down the moblin that had been charging for Wind and Sky. It gave as good as it got, and Twilight was already scratched and kicked and sorely aching when the moblin suddenly raked its claws into his muzzle.

A sharp sting ripped across his face, and Twilight yelped in pain as he reeled back, tears welling in his eyes.

“Twilight!”

Something snapped in Twilight, and despite the sharp pain, he lunged back in again, snapping ferociously at the moblin’s neck. He clawed and tore and shook the monster under him, and it wasn’t until something pressed against his side and shouted his name that Twilight realized the moblin had gone still, and it was silent in the cave once more.

Twilight stumbled back, panting as blood dripped from his face and mouth, staring at the ripped-up moblin below him. It was barely recognizable, and bile rose in his throat, shame and disgust slamming into him. Something suddenly butted gently against his side, and Twilight wearily raised his head, seeing Time looking at him with alarm in his eye.

The older hero was gently supporting him, and Twilight wondered why before he suddenly realized his legs were trembling.

“I’m okay,” Twilight said finally, sitting down with a whine at the pain in his side and face. At Time’s incredulous look, Twilight huffed. “Seriously, I am. Nothing’s broken, just bruised, I can tell.”

“Bruised ribs are no joke,” Warriors said as he walked by, but he didn’t stop to bother Twilight about it further. He was making his way over to the deer, who was still lying ominously still on the ground. Legend at least had stirred nearby, but he looked a little dazed, a paw held close to his chest.

Fear lurched through him and Twilight struggled back to his feet, Time still supporting his side, and he walked slowly over to Legend and the deer.

Time didn’t further question his injuries, but Twilight could feel his gaze on him as they made a brief detour for Twilight to wash some of the blood from his mouth.

I get it old man, you’re worried.

Twilight swallowed, the taste of blood still in his mouth.

I am too.

They made it to where Warriors had gone, and Twilight sat down with a huff, the others all gathered around in a loose circle. Twilight looked around at them all, bloody, disturbed, weary and damp, and lowered his head down to rest on his paws.

Are we anywhere close to getting out of here?

Twilight breathed out slowly, and tilted his head to look at the deer, a light brown and with a few speckles of pale green scattered around on his back and face. Warriors knelt beside him, and gave the deer and Legend both as much of a look-over as he could.

Wind scampered past, his feet making little paps on the floor, and he sniffed at the deer, then looked fearfully at Warriors.

“Is Hyrule okay?” he asked, fur still a little damp.

“Yes, Hyrule is okay,” a voice groaned, and Twilight turned to see the deer raise its head, blinking dizzily. “Ow.”

"Traveler!" Legend and Wind said at the same time, both looking relieved.

“Careful,” Warriors warned, but Hyrule shifted around anyway, moving like he was going to stand up.

He immediately toppled over when he tried, his hooves going everywhere, and Wind let out a sympathetic little noise. Hyrule blinked, attempting to correct himself, and when he failed, stared up at the near zoo standing around him.

“Um. So why do I have four feet and feel like I got doused in dark magic?” Hyrule asked, sounding surprisingly unconcerned. “Also... why’s there a unicorn just standing there?”

“That’s me,” Warriors said grumpily, and Hyrule blinked.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Weird cult ladies, we were dumped in a cave, dark magic stuff,” Legend summarized from where he'd moved to sit beside Sky, and Hyrule nodded, accidentally hitting his antlers on a rock.

“Ow. Yeah... I remember now. I thought I heard Wind when we fell, and I got up to go find him, but then I felt all that dark magic and blacked out,” he reported with a scrunch if his nose. “And now I’m a... deer?"

“Looks like it,” Warriors said, and Twilight heard the grim smile in his voice. “Welcome to the hoof club.” Hyrule looked around, then blinked, staring at the eclectic pile of animals gathered near Sky. "...Is that rabbit wearing a vest?"

Warriors snorted out a laugh, and then attempted to give Hyrule a crash course in who was who, and also how to walk with hooves. While they stumbled around, Twilight took the opportunity to look around at everyone else, making sure they were all still accounted for. Time was beside him still, a few scratches on his leg, some blood staining his muzzle. Legend and Wild were huddled beside Sky, trying to warm him up while Legend nursed his injured paw, and Wind and Warriors were cheering Hyrule on as he tried to raise himself up on wobbly legs.

That meant the only one missing now was Four.

Twilight looked at the stream, remembering the croaky voice’s mention of water. The exit must be somewhere near here if they were going to be... collected, but they couldn’t leave without Four.

Where could he be?

“...okay, so I know Twilight and Time are the wolves,” Wind said, and Twilight looked back to see him moving to sit next to Sky as well. “Wild’s... a thing? Furry thing?”

“A squirrel,” Wild sighed. “And Warriors is the unicorn, Sky is the cat thing I forget the name of, Legend is the rabbit,” he said with a snicker, and Legend glared at him. “And you're a... I actually have no idea what you are.”

“He's an otter,” Legend said grumpily, attempting to tie his vest into a sling with one arm. “They swim around and eat clams.”

“What’s a clam?” Wind asked.

“Shellfish.”

“That’s not very nice of him,” Hyrule said as he wobbled over, and Wild and Wind joined in on his laughter while several of the others rolled their eyes.

“Enough goofing off, we still need to find Four,” Twilight spoke up, and everyone turned to look at him. "And any ideas on how we're going to deal with these witches or whatever they are?"

"We head downstream and see what happens I suppose," Time sighed. "Our smithy must have heard that message too, he’ll know where to go."

"He could be hurt though," Wind chirped worriedly, rubbing a paw over his whiskery cheek.

"And what if he was unconscious somewhere and we missed him?" Legend added.

"Twilight or the old man would've smelled him though, wouldn't they?" Warriors pointed out. "Twilight's been looking for scents this whole time, surely he would've gotten some sign of him."

"Wait, what if he got turned into a fish or something?" Wind suddenly gasped, looking at the water. "What if he's down there and—"

"Quiet!" Sky suddenly shouted in a croaky voice, his wide ears held out.

All of them went silent, and Sky swiveled his ears around, looking ruffled, but a little less like a drowned rat as he carefully sat up. Twilight pricked his ears too, and for a moment, all anyone heard was the noise of the stream rushing by, and blood and water dripping softly from wounds.

Then Twilight heard a pained cry so soft he could barely make it out.

"That was Four," Sky gasped, obviously able to make it out better than him. "He... wait."

He pricked his ears, and then his eyes went wide.

"I can hear those women, they have Four!"

Twilight jumped to his feet, biting back a whine of pain as his side sparked angrily. "Then we need to go help him, come on!"

“We can’t just rush in there without a plan,” Warriors whinnied, stomping a hoof. “Rancher you’re injured, Hyrule can barely walk, Sky practically drowned, we need a plan if we’re going to be able to—”

“Then I’m going by myself!” Twilight snarled, and whirled around and took off, ignoring the others’ shouts and cries to come back.

Twilight’s paws pounded against the stone as the others’ voices faded behind him, every step sending a jolt up along his injured side. Blood was drying on his face, sticky and uncomfortable, but Twilight only ran faster, listening for any more signs of Four.

He knew he would need the others’ help. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take them on by himself, and Twilight especially knew he was being incredibly stupid by running off alone.

But he didn’t care.

Every moment could matter for Four.

[wemlygust]

it's kinda funny (as in, literally amusing, not as in "I am indicating sarcasm or criticism") that importing Danny Phantom into the DC Universe seems to free people to age him up or down all along the age scale. Here in crossover land, we've got baby Danny, we've got toddler Danny, we've got little kid and preteen Danny, we've got teen Danny, we've got adult Danny with a job or in college or both, and we've got immortal super old Danny. I don't think his age varies this much within Phantom-only/non-crossover fic? I wonder if this is true for crossovers generally, or if it's more true for Danny Phantom because a) he's in one way or another immortal and b) his physical form is already unusually changeable, at least as a ghost. And c) there is already canonical time travel. It's almost always Danny's age that changes, not the ages of the various Bats. Danny's age is adjusted by who the author wants to pair him with, or whether they want someone to take care of him or have him take care of someone else or both, or who they want to have be his long-lost twin, or whatever. For those long-lost twin fics, one could hypothetically, like, make Tim younger, instead of Danny older, but it's almost always the latter I think? Which is interesting. I guess if you make Tim younger, that changes his relationship with the other bats, and potentially the canon backstory you'd rather not try to re-jigger. It does make sense to just change the age of the 1 imported character to suit all the other characters whose ages already are interconnected and matter for their relationships with each other. I think I've only ever seen, like, one (1) fic where Danny was actually physically middle aged or over, and even for that one I'm not at all sure. I might be making it up. Alfred is the one (1) person who gets to be old AND look old, I guess. Normal "center the teens and 20 year olds, and maaaybe the 30 year olds on a good day, and everyone older is a side character or not even on the page anywhere, unless they are immortal in a way that makes them look forever young" problem common in fiction in general continues also in fanfiction, alas. You know what, I bet YA is still like that, too? In which case, no wonder there are so many younger folks who act like 30 is Ancient, Falling Apart, Basically Dead At That Point, Oh God Why Am I Not [XYZ arbitrary "success" or "adulthood" goal here]. Let alone 40.