#i eventually found ff.net

[ponderingpathways]

I mean, I started reading it when it was archived on individual websites themed for different series. I am talking Tripod , Angelfire, Geocities. There were sparkley banners, there were animated gifs, low resolution images as f a r as the eye could see! And in all that, links to several fics from the series of choice.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

omg guys yesterday i said i was gonna answer asks and disappeared sorry TWT

[minniethemoocherda]

Connect This Space Between

Summary: "PRIME! YOUR SPARKLING IS CURRENTLY OVERCHARGED ON HIGHGRADE IN MY MEDBAY!"

A/N: This takes place a few weeks before the start of my fic Iridescent. But you shouldn't have to read that for this to make sense. In my head Bumblebee is around the equivalent of seventeen here whilst the twins are about nineteen. Also sorry! I am on a hype right now! So I couldn't wait until Sunday to post this! What did you guys think of the new Transformers One trailer? Anyway hope you enjoy! Xxxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

"PRIME!"

Optimus jerked awake at the sound Ratchet's voice shouting over his internal comms, accidently knocking to the floor a pile of datapads that he must've fallen asleep on top of.

"Yes Ratchet?" Optimus said, bending down to place the fallen datapads back onto his desk.

"You're sparkling is currently overcharged on highgrade in my medbay."

Optimus nearly dropped the datapads again in shock.

"Is Bumblebee okay?" He asked, concern for his ward over riding the many questions that statement posed.

"He's as fine as one can be after drinking an entire bottle of the twins' moonshine." Ratchet answered, the familiar cranky tone, reassuring Optimus that the damage was not too serious.

"I am on my way."

As Optimus marched towards the medbay, the questions previously overridden, now sprung to the forefront of his mind.

Why would Bumblebee be drinking? How did he gets his servos on the twin's secret stash? And what would possess him to drink enough of it to end up in Ratchet's medbay?

It didn't make sense to Optimus that the newspark that he had found in the ruins of The Well could be drinking.

Although he guessed that he shouldn't be too surprised considering that Bumblebee was due to get his final upgrades in a couple of weeks. Optimus supposed that it was only natural that Bumblebee would get curios about such things.

Outside the medbay, Prowl was currently reading Sideswipe and Sunstreaker the riot act, listing off all of their current offences which included but not limited too; indecent behaviour, production of moonshine and serving said moonshine to an underage mechling. The twins faces paled under the scrutiny, whether that was from their own over indulgent high grade consumption or from their dawning realisation of how much trouble they were in, Optimus was unsure. He suspected that most likely, it was a mixture of both.

Inside, Bumblebee appeared the picture of misery. He was hunched over the edge of a berth with his doorwings drooped and his head in a bucket.

His eyes widened in panic when he spotted Optimus standing the doorway.

He opened his mouth, probably to protest that he hadn't been caught drinking when he was cut off by his own spew, regurgitating into the bucket.

Optimus hurried across the medbay to his side. No matter the circumstances, the Prime hated seeing his sparkling in pain.

He rubbed the space between Bumblebee doorwings like he had when he was little until eventually the young bot had finished emptying his energon tank.

Ratchet switched the now full bucket for an empty one.

"Am I dying?" Bumblebee slurred.

Ratchet snorted.

"You're going to wish you are when you're sober enough for me to give you my dangers of underage drinking lecture!"

Optimus thought that was a bit ironic coming from the mech who's nickname growing up had been The Party Ambulance. But since Optimus preferred not having a wrench thrown at his head, he tactfully decided not to mention that.

"I'm sorry." Bumblebee mumbled, sounding so dejected that regardless of the splashes of energon now staining the bot's front Optimus couldn't help but put his arm around him.

For the first time in months Bumblebee didn't shrug him off, instead leaning into his touch. Over the past few years as his sparkling came ever closer to adulthood, Bumblebee had sought comfort from his guardian less and less. Even if the only reason Bumblebee was permitting it was due to his lessoned inhibitions, Optimus felt his spark warm.

"I should hope that this experience has been enough of a lesson for you to learn from without the lecture." Optimus said.

Bumblebee nodded, nuzzling against his shoulder.

Growing up in a war, Bumblebee's childhood had been anything but traditional. He'd never had the chance to go to just school or the cinema or the park. Until recently he'd never even met any cybertronians his own age before.

No, instead Bumblebee's childhood had been a serious of safe houses and self defence lessons.

In a strange way, Optimus was glad that Bumblebee was getting in trouble for normal mechling things for once. Not that he was going to tell Bumblebee that.

At least Bumblebee's first fore into high grade hadn't ended with him throwing up on Alpha Trion's prized organic scroll collection.

"Drink this." Ratchet ordered, interrupting Optimus's thoughts as he thrust a glowing purple liquid under Bumblebee's nose.

Bumblebee looked nauseous again at the idea of anything more to drink, but under Ratchet's glare reluctantly took a sip.

"Good now you shouldn't have to waste any more of my time again tomorrow morning because of a hangover."

Optimus fought the urge not to show his smile. As despite Ratchet's gruff words, he knew that the medic's actions showed the not so secret soft spot Ratchet had for the sparking. Because if it had been anyone else in this position, they would've been thrown straight to the brig to sober up the hard way.

"Now, Prime can walk you back to your room so you don't end up in any more trouble." Ratchet stated as he started to clean up.

"I'm okay." Bumblebee protested.

"Oh really?" Ratchet drawled. "Walk in a straight line for me."

Bumblebee pushed the bucket aside as he stood up on his unsteady feet. He didn't even make it one step before nearly faceplanting the floor. Luckily, Optimus managed to catch him by his scruff bar before he could do any more damage to himself.

Even in his drunken state, Bumblebee must've known that resistance would he futile as he didn't put up anymore fight when Optimus scooped him up.

Gone were the days when Optimus could lift Bumblebee with only the palm of his hand. But even on the edge of adulthood, Bumblebee was still a small bot. Optimus cradled him close, arms securing the bot's legs and back, allowing Bumblebee to rest his against his shoulder. Optimus easily carried the mech to his quarters.

Once there, he gently placed Bumblebee down on the berth, tucking the blanket of tarp under the mechling's chin.

As Ratchet's potion kicked in and Bumblebee drifted off, Optimus glanced around the room that was the closest place the young bot had ever had to a home. On shelves sat scavenged action figures from shows he'd never watched, attached upon the painted walls that showed sights he would never see. And by his bed, a set of twins knives that Optimus had tried to talk Jazz out of giving to him.

Because as much as Optimus wished that he could, he would not be able to protect the former sparkling from the horrors of the world. Something that even without a war, would still ring true. One way or another, Bumblebee was always going to grow up.

With a new sense of acceptance, Optimus was about to leave he heard a quiet voice mumble;

"Love you sire."

Optimus smiled, walked back across the room to place a kiss on the helm of his sleeping sparkling.

"I love you too."

[mirkwoodshewolf]

No following; Planet of the Apes fanfic Chap. 1

*Author's note*

Okay so we're gonna try something new here tumblr. Ever since I saw the new Planet of the apes film a month ago I got interested in the fandom once again but never thought anyone wrote fics for the fandom. After reading some on FF.net as well as here, it got me wanting to write a series while I'm on a writer's block for my current series. And thus this series was born.

This entire series will encompass the Andy Serkis trilogy and will be a Caesar fic. But it is STRICTLY PLATONIC so if that's not your cup of tea, no hate and just move on. This is my story and I'll write it the way I want to.

Now to those who wish to give this series a chance as you read, leave a comment down below if you wish to be tagged for updates (rn I'll be binge posting cause I've already got 10 chapters ready to go and be read).

WARNINGS: Fluff, angst, swearing, violence. So this won't be for the light of heart (at least until I get to Dawn and then War).

Taglist:

@queen-paladin

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

@waddles03

______________________________________________________

Some say that the bonds between human and animal are a unique thing.  That there’s an unbreakable trust between the two and that they are fated to always be together.  Others say that like soulmates, there’s always an animal for a person who needs them the most.  For me, I would end up having the most unique of all bonds with an animal that is closest to my own species of animal.

This is the story of such a bond, this is the story of Lin and Caesar.

It was nightfall and pouring down rain as I rode home with my best friend Gabriella and her mother.  Gabi and I had known each other since Pre-K after we both had a love for the Disney movie Lilo and Stitch.  From that moment on we’ve been inseparable.  Currently I was getting a ride home with her mom after our strings class.

She and I after school go over to the rec center every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday nights and perform with the San Fransisco Strings and Orchestra for minors.  Gabi plays the cello and I play the violin.  We’re both pretty good if I do say so myself, our teacher tells us that we could eventually go far into the world of music if we set our mind to it.  But I think I’m good cause of my genetics, after all my grandpa was a former music professor and conductor.  But he doesn’t really play anymore, or at least he tries to.

We soon stopped at my house and I said grabbing my things and readied my umbrella.

“Thanks for the ride Mrs. Montez.”

“Anytime Lin sweetie. Watch out crossing the dark, wet sidewalk.”

“I will, see you tomorrow in class Gabi.”

“See yah Lin.” I quickly opened the door and opened up my umbrella before quickly racing across the sidewalk and up the stairs to my front door.  I took my key and unlocked the door but not before waving one final time and soon Mrs. Montez drove off down the road.

I entered inside and shook off my umbrella before hanging it to dry.  I also took off my raincoat and hung it up beside it before walking further into the house proclaiming.

“Hello? Grandpa? Uncle Will?” that’s when I heard the sound of cooing, like a baby cooing but it wasn’t human.  I set my violin case down to the banister by the front door and walked into the study room where I found a large box with holes sitting on the table.  As I got closer to it, I heard my uncle say.

“Oh perfect timing, guess that means I can show you both.” I turned and saw both my uncle and grandpa coming around from the kitchen entry.

“Show me what?” uncle Will walked passed me, ruffled my hair and stood over the box.

“Hey grandpa.”

“Hey sweetheart. Get another gold star from Ms. Honey for good behavior?” I smiled solemnly.  Ms. Honey was my kindergarten teacher, my current teacher is Mr. Simmons. 

My grandpa for the past couple of years has been dealing with Alzheimer’s disease.  Uncle Will told me that it’s a disease that slowly eats away at the brain’s cells, affecting memory and sometimes body function.  You see, my parents died in a plane crash when I was just 3 years old and in their will they had the next guardianship be my grandpa.  But two years ago, that’s when the disease started to take its effect on him.

So my uncle Will had to move in with us to help not only take care of me but of grandpa too.  And when he’s at work and I’m at school, a nice nurse comes in and helps take care of grandpa.

“Grandpa, I’m in the 4th grade. My teacher is Mr. Simmons. You know the nice man you and uncle Will met last month at the school picnic.” He looked dazed for a second but then said.

“Oh right, yeah I knew that.”

“Dad, Lin, come check this out.” Uncle Will said trying to redirect the conversation.  We came over and the second we looked inside, there lay a baby monkey.

“Is that a monkey?” I asked with a head tilt.

“He’s actually a chimpanzee, an ape.” Uncle Will corrected me.  Grandpa was in pure awe as he slowly reached in and touched the baby chimp.

“What is that? Is he injured?” he asked as I took notice of a mark right around the right side of his chest.  It was a prominent balding mark in a unique shape, a long oval shape with an additional stripe at the top.  Kinda reminded me of an incomplete cross or an unfinished F.

“No, I think that’s a birthmark.” Uncle Will said as he crossed into the kitchen and started putting some things into the fridge.  All the while grandpa picked up the baby chimp and lifted him high into the air like he was Simba.  The little guy was just small enough to fit between both of grandpa’s hands.

“Listen Lin,” he told me before he began quoting, “‘But as for Caesar, kneel down, kneel down and wonder.’”

“He’s so cute.” I awed as I reached out and touched his little toes.

“Yeah don’t get too attached, either of you.” Uncle Will told us.

“So why bring him here then if we can’t keep him?” I sassed.

“He’s not a dog or a cat, not even a bunny rabbit. He’s a wild animal. My coworker promised he’d try to find an animal sanctuary for him in a couple of days.” I let out a exasperated groan.

“Animal sanctuaries are still prisons.”

“Don’t get smart young lady.” My uncle playfully reprimanded as he pointed at me.

“It’s not polite to point.” I sassed back.

“Polite? Okay, I’ll show you polite.” My uncle said as he shut the fridge and giving me that narrowed but playful look in his eyes.  I took off running as he raced after me.  I got only up four stairs before I felt two arms wrap around me and he swung me away from the staircase and the next thing I felt was a wet finger in my ear.

“GAHH EWW UNCLE WILL!!!”

“Yeah your mom did this to me all the time when we were kids, now it’s payback.” He laughed.

“I’m innocent in this vile act!” I proclaimed dramatically.

“But you must pay for the sins of thy mother young youth!”

“Will, Maria, you two better stop horsing around in there.” At hearing my mom’s name we both settled down and a somber feeling was in the air.

“He’s been calling me that on and off for the past week.”

“Honestly who can blame him. You look so much like her when she was your age.” He said with a soft smile and he ruffled my hair again.

“Really?”

“Yeah. And when have I ever lied about anything in regards to my big sister?”

“Never.”

“Exactly.” He then playfully nudged my side with his before changing the subject.  “Now please tell me you managed to eat dinner cause I’ve had a long day of work and I don’t feel like cooking anything.”

“Lucky for you, the rec center was hosting a pizza party after the past few months prepping for Districts last week. Maestro Fiyero said we earned a little break after working us so hard.”

“Good. Now why don’t you brush your teeth and get ready for bed.”

“Why does my curfew have to be 9 o’clock? I’m 10 years old, not five.”

“Growing girls needs sleep too you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tell grandpa I said goodnight will yah?”

“Will do kid. Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“You too.” I grabbed my violin and raced on upstairs and did my nighttime routine before getting into bed and turning off the light.

As the night progressed, I soon heard the sounds of shrieks coming from the hallway.  I opened my eyes and looked at my clock to see that it was 2:30am.  I got up and let out a cough and muttered to myself.

“Need some juice.” Quietly I walked down the hallway towards the stairs but as I came to the bathroom I could hear the shower running as well as the bathroom sink.  Did grandpa accidentally leave the water running again after taking his shower?  No, Uncle Will would’ve turned it off by now.

I knocked softly on the door and I heard my uncle’s voice say.

“It’s just me dad.”

“I’m not grandpa.” I heard footsteps and the door cracked open and when he saw me, he brought me into the bathroom before closing it.  Immediately I was hit with the heat that had been trapped by the hot water that was coming from both the shower and the sink.

“What are you doing up so late Lin?”

“I heard shrieking and then I got thirsty.”

“Ohh sorry, guess this little guy woke you up too huh?” it was then I took notice of the baby chimp swaddled up in my uncle’s arms.  I looked down at him and he looked up at me, moving his grip from my uncle’s finger to mine as he cooed.

“He looks like he has a cold.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, his nose is kinda runny.”

“Well that’s normal for babies sometimes. He’s barely a day old. You definitely had a runny nose when you were born.”

“No I didn’t!”

“Oh yeah you were quite the little snot monster. The original boogeyman, or boogeygirl.” He said taking his free hand that was on top of the baby chimp and playfully gripped my nose.

“Uncle Will!” I whined softly which made him laugh.  Our moment was stopped as the baby chimp let out a few more coos before snuggling up to uncle Will, all the while the grip on my finger got a bit tighter.  I smiled down at him and said as I stroked my thumb over his tiny fingers.  “Are you sure we can’t keep him?”

“I’ll—think about it. Holding him like this….makes me think back to the day you were born. Boy your mom wouldn’t let me near you at first. Feared I was gonna drop you, she always had that fierce mama bear instinct right from the get-go. Even when we were growing up and as she tormented me at times. When I needed it, she was there with her hot-headed attitude.”

“I miss her uncle Will.”

“Me too kid. Me too.” I leaned up against him and he rested his head on top of mine giving it a soft kiss.  “Go on back to bed, I’ll stay up with him.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m used to all-nighters, one day you might get there when you’re composing your first symphony. But for now, head back to bed.”

“Can I still get my juice first? I’m thirsty.”

“Just this once. Just be quiet when passing Charles’ room.” I nodded before leaning down and gave the baby chimp a kiss to which he let out a cute yawn and quiet hoot.

“Goodnight little chimp. Night uncle Will.” I gave him a peck on the cheek and he said goodnight to me as I quietly left the bathroom shutting the door immediately as I got out.  I went downstairs, got my drink and went back to bed.

The next morning I was finishing my breakfast and packing my school books into my backpack as uncle Will was coming down with the baby chimp and set him up in my old high-stool chair that grandpa had kept.

“Where’s my car keys?” grandpa asked as he was patting through his robe and pj pockets.  “My car keys where’d you put them? I need to get Lin to school!” he said urgently.

“Dad.” Uncle Will calmly spoke to him. “You-you don’t drive anymore. And Lin takes the bus.” Grandpa looked at him with a blank stare before turning away and telling him.

“I know that.” It really does make me sad to see grandpa this way.  He always looks so dazed and lost, like he’s here with us but at the same time he’s not.  Sometimes he’ll just sit there and stare off into space, frozen in his spot and not say anything for a really long time.

“Here, why don’t you feed him? Can you do that?” uncle Will suggested holding up a baby bottle filled with milk.

“Of course I can.” Said grandpa coming over.  As uncle Will went to get his coffee (blech!) grandpa came over and grabbed the bottle which made the baby chimp go crazy with hunger as he reached out for it.  As soon as it was in reach, he grabbed the bottle from grandpa’s hand and immediately began drinking it as fast as he could.

I dropped my fork and stared at him in awe.  I was told that babies always needed help being fed for at least several months and yet after just being born yesterday, he was feeding himself.

“Will, look at this.” Grandpa said as uncle Will came back into the kitchen and saw what we saw.  “How old is he? Like a day old, two days old?” Uncle Will sat down as he examined the baby chimp confused.

“Yeah.” Uncle Will said lowly as he kept his eyes on the baby chimp.

“Oh he’s a smart one isn’t he?” said grandpa as he came around and sat on the other side of the baby and gently placed his hand on top of his head.  “What are you gonna name him?”

“I—I don’t know.” Uncle Will said unsure.  That’s when I saw it.  Now I’m no monkey or ape expert but from pictures I’ve seen in books they normally have dark eyes, mostly brown but this little guy.  His eyes were green.

A green eyed baby chimpanzee.  One look into his eyes and I knew that he was something very special.

[elithemiar-blog]

FF.NET ACCOUNT CLOSE OUT (Danny Phantom Xovers)

w/Arrow:

1) The Mansons and the Queens are not only close business partners but friends as well. During a visit, Sam's rebellious nature came full bloom. Thea, who looked up to Sam, gained some of Sam's nature. Which might explain how rebellious Thea can get…

2) Vlad kidnapped Danny to break him down. Eventually he escapes, angering Vlad to a breaking point. Unknowingly, he is found by Walter, who realizes who he is. He takes Danny back to the manor to try to get him to open up. How will Danny cope with Vlad and the ghosts coming after him all the while trying to keep his secret intact?

3) During some "Vacation Time", Team Arrow takes a trip to Amity Park due to the increase of "Ghost" sightings. They meet the Fentons, the school kids, and see the local "menace" Danny Phantom. What will they do once they begin to connect the dots between Fenton and Phantom? Will they become allies…or enemies?

4) What if some of the League of Assassins became ghosts? What if they somehow met up with Ras Al Ghul*? A time when Ras learns that in death you are not able to control previous members.

5) QC decides to buy the Fenton's inventions to build some stock. A CEO with a secret identity and the son of the two ghost hunters with a secret identity. Both have enemies out for them. What could possibly happen? I mean it's just business…right?

6) In which Tommy Merlyn becomes a ghost and realizes the similarities between Team Arrow and Team Phantom.

7) What if Ember’s love spell only worked if one or both parties had feelings for the other, and made them love sick for the one they had feelings for?

w/Yu-Gi-Oh!:

The Heir of Two Thrones: After the defeat of Pariah Dark, Danny unknowingly becomes the Prince. At the same time, a secret has come out. Danny Fenton is the reincarnation of the heir to the Nameless Pharaoh. Neither party realizes this until, his parents and teacher force Danny to go on a student exchange program to get his grades back up. Due to the fact that Amity Park has more concerns with the ghosts, they never knew about the card game Duel Monsters. Danny ends up meeting Yugi and the gang and learns about Duel Monsters. Things begin to get complicated when ghosts start showing up. Danny originally planned to keep his secret in tacked by using his parents inventions instead of his powers. Everyone becomes confused at the ghosts' titles towards Danny. Prince Phantom, Halfa, Eidolon, Nameless Pharaoh's heir, ect. The Ghost Zone is the peaceful side of the Shadow Realms.

w/Vampire Knight:

Phantom Among Vampires- Danny’s family, friends, and classmates past away when a freak explosion happens at Casper high’s chemistry lab. Vlad wanted to waste his dad at all costs; he was outside fighting Skulker when the explosion happened. Heartbroken and deeply depressed, he runs off and disappears.

Vlad still wants him to be his son; so he sends the GIW to track him down and bring him back. They chase Danny all around the country till he gets to the San Francisco airport where he hitches a ride on the plane to rest.

Getting woken up by the plane landing, he finds out that he is in Japan. He heads to a nearby town and lands deep down in an alley way and transforms back into Fenton. As he slides down to the ground out of exhaustion, a sharp point from one of the bricks opens a cut on his arm.

A level E (A/N: he doesn’t know this yet), stands in front of him, it tries to attack but missed because of Danny dodging. Four people get attracted to this, two on either side of the alley way. Without a second thought he punches it into the wall, ready to go for a kick in the gut but relaxes when the creature turns to dust. He walks off but stopped by someone grabbing his shoulders, they tell him to follow he does but reluctantly. He follows to a school and is placed in the Day class (forcefully); he is content for a time but is still paranoid about being found by Vlad.

Later in the story an anonymous note says to place him in the Night Class because it’s better suited for him. It also says that if he isn’t in the Night class in *place amount of time here, the Academy will be shut down.

In *place amount of time here* he is transferred to the night class, surprisingly he gets better grades. Danny also suspects that the Night Class is not human, later he is told that they are vampires confirming. He dealt with being hunted, annoyed, and in the most haunted place in the country; nothing can weird him out or scare him in anyway shape or form.

[animation-is-my-jam]

Hiii! I'm wondering what was the reason you ship tobecky? What moment did you feel that "oh yeah this is my otp!

Hello! Thank you for the ask!! (^.^)

Oh boy, okay then, strap yourselves. Call me Captain Tangent because I'm going to take too long getting to the point, but yippee!!

Alright, first is the context before the context. I watched Wordgirl during the original shorts that were between Maya and Miguel since I was a PBS kid (cable was inconsistent). During that time, I watched it up until season 4, when I dropped off in favor of other stuff. From that time, I do remember that I wasn't a Tobey x Wordgirl(Becky) fan. Instead, Tobey's crush on Wordgirl flew over my small head, and I was a Scoops and Becky truther because apparently, I recognized Becky's crush on Scoops more. (I didn't know what shipping was exactly. All I knew was that I liked to pair characters up in my head or be invested in romantic tension. EXs: Robin and Starfire in OG Teen Titans, Tiana and Naveen, ...Pleakley and Jumba...)

When about season 4 started, I didn't try to see what the show was up to until after the Miss Power special, where I curiously searched up Wordgirl on the family computer to see what happened. There then I found SuperstarWordgirl's art and amvs about Tobecky. Remember, I forgot about Tobey's crush, so I was just confused about why people wanted to see them smoochy kiss (I was like: "What?? Doesn't he dislike her? And she has the other boy??")

I was puzzled and embarrassed seeing shipping amvs, so I left it alone, only searching it up a bit on ff.net because I used it for mlp fics, and yup still was confused so I didn't hear of Wordgirl by then.

--Then, my mind broke in 2016. With animated movies like Zootopia and Finding Dory, I started to develop fixations beyond MLP and lurk into fandoms where I discovered Tumblr. (I was in the mlp fandom before, but I wasn't overtly active or multifandom yet, and was still a kid, so I was in very much danger and scarred for life to the point of my development but that's for another day--). Later that year, with the release of Sing, I really kicked into gears of wanting to make stuff/make friends with similar interests. Yada Yada, eventually over a year with being on Tumblr, I started to see posts about childhood nostalgia, and the PBS ones caught my eyes. Wordgirl was a big one, and superhero stories were getting interesting for me again, so I nodded and respected it. BUT THEN I SAW A POST SAYING THAT there was a canonical gay couple in Wordgirl, and I ran straight to the tag--look I was invested highly into gay shit so once I heard about it...in a PBS show? In my childhood show? I was like, OKAY, LET'S HEAR IT OUT.

And yes indeed, to whom that post was referring to...was TJ and Johnson... (What I didn't know, that was just when Liz confirmed stuff on tumblr for the last season like two years ago), BUT REGARDLESS, I GOT INVESTED BECAUSE GAY PPL REAL!! So yes, guys. You technically have Tjohnson to thank for getting me into the fandom and, yes, eventually to ship Tobecky.

Getting into the Wordgirl tag, I was very excited and comforted by all the art and tight-knit unity the fandom had. Headcanons, fan arts, and crossovers with stuff like other PBS shows or Captain Underpants, it really put me in a place of whimsy at the time. (remembered I was in places like the brony fandom, so by comparison, i was safe) and I was in the starting phases of high school too, so yep, seeing nostalgic wonderful art did my brain good. My fixation of animated movies waned, and I dipped deeply into Wordgirl, other cartoons, and video games. Because I was lurking in the Wordgirl tag, it wouldn't take long to see Tobecky again, along with other ships. Then it finally dawned on me after seeing clips posted that Tobey definitely had a crush on Wordgirl. And well...I'm a sucker for anything romance and especially since I missed that detail before so I went on YouTube for more clips. This was before the resurgences of ppl posting Wordgirl stuff, so I then went to deviantart for answers and got obsessed with this one artist on their Tobecky art. Like I didn't ship it yet, but I liked it. Eventually, after a few weeks on the Wordgirl tag, I kicked the bucket and watched the full show (I actually watched it through a tumblr masterpost link AHH THE MEMORIES) but regardless, after watching everything, yup....it became a hyper fixation. But what about Tobecky? So, I mentioned before that it wasn't until re-watching the four seasons again and seeing for the first time the other seasons that started to ship tobecky. Specifically, Have You Seen The Remote. I was already a bit intrigued since the first episode (because I like for one-sided infatuation relationships), but the whole thing with Tobey trying to say how much he and Wordgirl could get along and how they're similar in some ways...he was trying to convince her on their potential chemistry; but all he did was convince me lmao.

I liked their dynamic that wasn't just romantic, too, and i stewed on it for a bit and reached the conclusion like I did with Tjohnson. That yes....shipping time. I made it to the last Tobey episode, and it just confirmed deeply that out of any other woodview school character that I liked her best with Tobey (the note dude, the note was my roman empire, similar to the scene of TJ getting bashful over Johnson complementing him in what would Wordgirl do). I was critical of the ship itself, especially after catching up with it's fandom lore and it did kinda made feel a tad guilty, but at this point I've made peace that I can like this ship but also talk shit because of my love for it (you can be analytic guys it ain't gonna kill you, but also be respectful and don't bully others).

Becky is my favorite character, and Tobey is my favorite character to analyze, so match made in haven, I suppose. Plus, i liked my spin on them in a timeskip setting, and AHH-- (*Future AU happens*). The fics only made it worse by how Tobecky began to infest my brain. Shout out to Something Hidden. Yeah, also, as I mentioned, after finishing up Wordgirl, that's when I really started to break out of my shell in the fandom and express my ideas and care for Tjohnson and Tobecky. I have never been sane since...

[cranberrymoons]

hey! i found you through your buddie fics (which are amazing btw!!) i am roughly in the same same age range as you and i wanted to know what other ships you watched as a teen that you might have thoughts about as an adult. completely fine if you don't! i watched a lot of charmed, the oc and one tree hill. i'd be interested to hear your thoughts on any of these shows - i have my personal opinion on which ships mirror buddie/madney but i'd love to hear your thoughts! and also any thoughts/opinoms/headcanons you have for any early to mid 2000s television xx🫂🦋💙

hi, thank you so much! tbh i was actually more of a book fandom person in the 00s, I was very into the wizards (I posted my first fic on ff.net when I was maybe 11 or 12 which was Harry/Ginny but I also hand-wrote a lot of self insert/Ron Weasley fic in my middle school notebook 💀) and then moved on to twilight where I was originally a Bella/Edward normie who evolved into a Bella/Rosalie truther. ALSO I was big into like FOB et al rpf (lmao) and eventually one direction fic in the early 2010s

I didn't really get too deep into any tv fandoms, but I did have very strong and ultimately incorrect opinions about Rory Gilmore's boyfriends 😔

[cafecliche]

fic writer meme!

[RISES FROM THE DEPTHS] I'm here!! Thank you so much @uhuraisgay and @englishsub for the tags, and also for reminding me that I've missed Tumblr

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 50 even - which was more than I thought!

2. what's your total ao3 wordcount? 187,448

3. what fandoms do you write for?

My fic-writing impulses come along like cicada seasons, except without any regularity whatsoever: I do a lot of dabbling in a lot of fandoms, I can never really tell if something's going to light my brain on fire. Most of my fic output came from Yuletide for a long while (I loved the grab bag aspect and writing little treats for small fandoms, but then my holidays got busier), and then Yuri on Ice and MDZS were my biggest fandoms by far, especially MDZS. I've written Yuwu recently, and I'd love to write some Trigun, LoZ, or Mysterious Lotus Casebook one of these days.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

grow

the only way out

The Guests of Cloud Recesses

detente

bespoke

And the soft animal is our runner-up at #6!

5. do you respond to comments?

I usually don't unless it's a request or a question, but I read and treasure every one.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I am too tender for Bad Endings for the most part, but my canon-verse Nie Huaisang fic after me comes the flood does not end in a particularly good place for anyone involved. (But even then, we know it gets better for him eventually... albeit at the expense of several bystanders)

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I tend to write pretty gentle, occasionally LIGHTLY bittersweet happy endings (that's the cafecliche guarantee baby) but part of me wants to say 'the only way out' (and probably 'the yunmeng accords' series in general) here. I tend to write fic when I want to play around with the emotions or relationship dynamics that can already be found in canon, so 'the yunmeng accords' is probably as close to a fix-it as I'm going to get.

8. do you get hate on fics?

Not usually! I was part of the Great MDZS Anon Hate Train of 2021, but that was the worst I've ever gotten by several magnitudes - the vast majority of commenters are fabulous.

9. do you write smut?

Not yet! It's not off the table, though.

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you have written?

I actually don't think I've ever written a crossover! The closest I've ever gotten was when I look over my shoulder, but even that's 'Wangxian in a Conjuring-esque ghosthunters in love situation' and not really a formal Conjuring AU.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

I've had plagiarism brought to my attention a couple times, but truly just a handful. I still remember getting a message on FF.net that someone had ripped off a line from my Black Lagoon fic. The SCANDAL of it all.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

MDZS is the first fandom where I've gotten translation requests, which is always so cool! To my knowledge, I've had fics translated into Russian, Spanish, and Ukranian.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but brainstorming fic concepts with my brilliant friends is one of my favorite thing in the world.

14. what's your all time favorite ship?

omg ever? Well Victuuri and Wangxian have been the ones that really lit my brain on fire (if I own the Nendos, it's serious) but let me also throw it back to Fakir and Ahiru in Princess Tutu. That is ROMANCE.

15. what is a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I would have really liked to have one more entry to 'the yunmeng accords!' I had a couple of ideas that I really liked, but nothing that caught fire quite enough to dive into it. That said, I am currently working on something short and Yunmeng Shuangjie-related, at the very least...

16. what are your writing strengths?

Emotional through-lines, pacing, and that sweet, sweet catharsis. I'm drawn to particular fandoms when they leave me with an emotion that I need to break down over the course of several thousand words, and I know that shows through in my writing.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Choreography! I'm not a very visual thinker, so sometimes it takes me a while just to figure out how to block the characters in a given scene. I also have a lot of trouble getting into a draft until I figure out the voice, which, when it comes to fanfic, will either come to me extremely easily or not at all.

18. thoughts of writing dialogue in another language in fics?

Yeah, absolutely! (But if you don't speak the language, do your research!)

19. first fandom you wrote for?

[rubs my temples] an X-Men crackfic.

20. favorite fic you have written?

Oh my god. WELL. 'grow' and 'the only way out' I think are the best fics I've written, and 'when I look over my shoulder' and 'the soft animal' are also extremely close to my heart. But 'detente' might be the favorite child. It just gushed out of me.

I think a great many of you have been tagged at this point, so sorry for any double-tags, but: @bluecrystalrainingdaggers @tigerjpg @floofyfluff @vinelark and anyone else who'd like to go for it!

[olderthannetfic]

Re this ask, 722433031603879936 , specifically the part from below:

It literally makes no sense to me how people who will claim that "consuming disturbing/triggering erotic fiction is self harm!" Will almost never apply that logic to horror fiction (especially movies)

This isn't really what you were talking about, I know, but the ask made me think of it and got me on a mental tangent. I very much agree in broad strokes with this anon and the reply--this isn't any form of attack or disagreement, but an add on, and a slightly different, but related, comment.

I actually have used my consumption of media as a form of self harm, and know others who have likewise done with same. I never really did so with horror or erotica personally, but would seek on content I knew I found to be triggering (though at the time, I didn't know it was a trigger and hadn't even heard the term beyond 'trigger on a gun' and had no clue this was a form of self harm) and read it until I was, well, triggered. I can go on about why I did this (12-16 year old me wanted control, and reading the triggering content in fandom somehow did that, even if not in a healthy way) and how it was actually hard to stop, but wow did I ever seek it out. I looked for content with child sexual abuse, looked for characters who self harmed themselves, and looked for other content along those themes. I never really liked erotica, but did find the odd extreme underage smut and read it, but usually clicked out due to boredom. A lot of what I sought out and read in those years did hurt me, in a way. I dabbled in writing some as well. However, I always saw it as fiction and escapism, even when, in retrospect, I was actually hurting myself and using it as a weird form of self harm.

I do know this is different than anti's seeking out content (and not exactly what anon above meant, I think), and it VERY much had nothing to do with the media. At all. It was always on me for clicking on the links, which is where I think I, and those I've talked to who also have done this, differ from anti's. Even as that pretty messed up 12 year old I knew I was seeking this out, and I knew I was the one reading it. I didn't have the language for how it affected me, or why I looked for it so often even though it left me Not In A Good Place, but I did. And you know? It was still healthier than some other things I could have done, and was tempted to do. But wow my therapist has had fun with all this, poor woman.

Basically, there are definitly people who use media as a form of self harm. I never personally went to erotica for that, but knew people with similar experiences who absolutely did, and while I don't know anyone who used horror, I would assume at least a few exist. I still read and write some of that content, but in a much healthier way at 32 than I did as a teen. AO3 has been a godsend for that to be honest. I started on ff.net and it was always a bit of a trial to find (or not find) what I wanted.

Anti's are just jerks about it. I needed therapy and help as a teenager, but likewise was able to understand I was the one seeking out things that fucked with me, and that the authors had no blame. Hell, I commented a lot (generic -- loved this!!). It was never on them. I've reread some of those fics as a much better adjusted adult, and still appreciate them, even if in retrospect, they weren't the best fics lol.

A part of me can understand, or even pity, some of the anti's who seem to look for erotica they know makes them uncomfortable or worse. But overall I just think they need to sit down and shut up, and look inwards. There are a lot of complexities to the anti mindset sometimes. I'm sure some are fucked up kids who are trying to get control wherever they can and fell into an anti group, and will hopefully eventually grow the hell up. But too many anti's have chosen to be terrible to others, and for that? My understanding and pity runs out very quickly. I've been there, in a very different way, and even then knew better than to blame someone else for something that was hurting me, especially when I was the one looking for it.

This got long and rather rambly, but the ask brought it to mind!

--

Yeah, I think many of them are self-harming in a similar way. They're just in denial about who's holding the reins.

[the-delta-42]

The Walking Dead Game What Ifs: What if Katjaa got bit instead of Duck?

[First] [Previous] [Next]

Nurture

What if Katjaa got bit instead of Duck? Prompt Submitted by Spectacular Webhead 11 on FF.net

Everything was going wrong. It’d been just over three months since the apocalypse started. They’d lost people, a guy, Doug, in the first few days. Another guy, Mark, and an old man, Larry, just a week ago, after they’d been lured in by some cannibals because they’d been starving.

They’d done something horrible, after eating Mark’s legs. They stole. Katjaa knew that some would disagree, she knew Kenny and Lee had killed people. Lee told her that he killed a guy back before the apocalypse started, he killed a woman who stalked their group, he helped Kenny kill Larry and then, while they were escaping, he killed two of the cannibals. He pitchforked one and kicked the other into an electric fence.

Now, she was taking cover with her son, Duck, while Lee, Lilly and Carley fought off the bandits attacking them. She’d heard them yelling about them not getting the supplies they were owed; she didn’t understand it. Then she heard the familiar groan of the Walkers, without thinking, she wrapped herself around Duck, as Lee turned his gun on the Walkers and Carley was shot in the leg.

The woman let out a scream as she fell to the ground, distracting Lee, and giving the Walker ample opportunity to latch itself onto Katjaa. She felt its teeth sink into her side, when its head exploded. Looking up, she saw Carley being supported by Lee, before a bullet tore through her arm. Lee ushered them into the RV Kenny had been working on, Lee boarding and setting Carley down on a sofa. Moments later, Lilly hopped on, and the RV peeled out of the Motel, leaving what little belongings and supplies they had behind.

N

Katjaa’s head rested against the window, they’d been driving for a few hours, she heard Lilly throwing accusations around, Ben, then Carley, then Lee and Carley and then Ben and Carley. Eventually, Carley ended up snapping, using some colourful language.

“Carley might be snappy because she’s been shot.” Said Lee, making Lilly stop, “Who did what’s no longer important, some of the supplied have got to be in the RV.”

There was a tense silence, before Lilly awkwardly coughed.

“You did listen to me when I said we should put the supplies in an easily observed place,” Asked Lee, looking around, “right?”

There were a few mumbled excuses, especially from Lilly. Lee just gave a heavy sigh and dropped down next to Ben, “Fucking typical.”

Then Kenny hit a Walker, Carley let out a curse when her arm and leg were jostled and Ben and Lee suddenly got a lot closer. After a moment, Lilly got out of the RV and Lee followed her. Soon, Lee, Lilly and Kenny were standing by the front end of the RV.

“It’s got to be someone.” Said Lilly, shortly, “Whoever it is, they’re a danger to the group.”

“Maybe they were just scared or easily manipulated.” Suggested Lee, as Kenny pulled on the Walker.

“Maybe they were planted by the bandits.” Spat Lilly, getting a flat look from Lee.

“That’s singling out Ben.” Stated Lee, before looking around, “Carley’s arm and leg—”

“Yeah, we get it Lee,” Dismissed Lilly, “your girlfriend’s been shot.”

Lee gave Lilly a flat look, just as the Walker split in half and Kenny stumbled back. A moment later, Kenny was stomping his foot on the Walker’s head as Lee and Lilly watched for Walkers. Glancing at Katjaa, Lee frowned, “I guess it’s all caught up to Katjaa, huh?”

Kenny glanced up, “Yeah, she’s just tired, she’ll be fine.”

Nodding, as Kenny roughly wiped the Walkers brains off his show, Lee and Lilly got back on the RV. Lee frowned as Clementine help onto a couple of tampons, “What’cha got there, Clem?”

“You said Carley was hurt,” Said Clementine, before holding the tampons out to Lee, “I found these is a draw.”

“Tampons aren’t going to help, Clem.” Said Lilly, sitting down.

“Actually,” Lee looked at her, “they were originally during during World War 1 to plug up bullet holes.”

Lee thought he heard Kenny mutter something up front, but walked up to Carley, “Hey.”

“I heard what you said.” Muttered Carley, “It’s really gonna suck, isn’t it?”

Lee winced and nodded, getting a sigh from Carley, as the woman adjusted herself.

“Not how I thought I’d be takin my clothes off in front of you.” Said Carley, before freezing.

Clementine looked at them, frowning as she saw Lilly bite the inside of her cheek and looked like she wanted to start laughing.

“I’ll…” Lee trailed off.

“Just plug the holes.” Muttered Carley, making Lilly let out a snort, “You know what I meant!”

N

Lee frowned; they’d found the road had been blocked by a train. He, Lilly, Ben and Kenny had scouted it out, while Carley watched the kids and Katjaa slept in the RV. They’d met an old homeless man, who gave his name as Chuck, he had some food and Lee found some crackers in a car with a Walker in it. He’d dispatched of the Walker that’d been trapped in the car and gave the snacks to the kids. Kenny and Ben found that the train still worked, and Lee managed to salvage the directions on how to start the train. Then Kenny sent Ben to wake Katjaa, which was where they were now. Lee had uncoupled the train car from the rest of the cars and had gotten Carley, Clementine and Duck into the car, with Chuck and Lilly helping them get on, when Ben scurried up to them.

“Ben, where’s Katjaa?” Demanded Lilly, as Carley rolled her eyes.

“There’s a problem.” Said Ben, nervously looking around.

“There’s gonna be.” Muttered Lilly, as Kenny joined them.

“Where’s Kat?” Demanded Kenny, scowling at Ben, “You had one fucking job.”

Lee frowned, “Ben, what’s wrong?”

Ben looked around, nervously fidgeting. Lee rolled his eyes and stalked over to the RV, “I’ll get her, see you in a minute.”

Boarding the RV, Lee checked all the compartments, frowning when he found a rifle, two shotguns and three handguns. Sighing, Lee waved at Lilly and Kenny, the pair joining him a moment later, “At least we’ve got some things here.”

Lilly nodded, taking some of the guns, while Lee continued to check the cupboards and draws. They didn’t find much, a roll of bandages, a needle and some thread, a bottle of disinfectant, a cigarette lighter, a couple of protein bars and an iron. Sighing, Lee stuffed what he could into his pockets, before looking at Lilly, “Anything?”

“Some long-life food, ammo, a bag and a knife.” Said Lilly, holding the bag up. Lee nodded and unloaded what he found into the bag, as Kenny gently woke Katjaa.

“C’mon, Kat.” Muttered Kenny, “We’ve got a train, we’re goin’ to Savannah.”

Katjaa let out a groan, making Kenny frown, “I’m gonna have her up in the cab with me, don’t want to scare her with Chuck.”

Lee waved a hand at him, as he and Lilly hopped off the RV. Sighing, Kenny looked at Katjaa’s side, lifting up her shirt and looking at the bite mark, “You’re gonna be fine.”

N

Lee sighed, running his hand down his face. Ben didn’t say anything to Chuck, Carley or the kids while they were cleaning out the RV, so he assumed that whatever he was trying to say was unimportant.

“Maybe we should talk to Kenny about the kids learning how to use guns.” Said Lilly, after a period of silence.

“It might be a good idea.” Agreed Carley, looking at them, “Y’know, since I’m a bit… impaired.”

“I’ll talk to Kenny about it.” Said Lee, before getting up and muttering, “Just gotten comfortable too.”

“Eh, stop whining.” Dismissed Lilly, keeping an eye on the limited supplies they had.

Lee rolled his eyes and started walking along the train, passing Ben as he did. He was just about to enter the cab when Ben spoke, “It was me.”

“Huh?” Asked Lee, turning to look at the teen.

“I was the one giving the bandits supplies.” Confessed Ben, unable to look at Lee.

“What?” Lee’s face darkened.

“It's all my fault.” Whispered Ben, bowing his head.

“What for?” Demanded Lee, his anger growing, “Why the hell would you do this?”

“They said they had my friend, that he was with them.” Ben flinched as Lee glared at him, “By the time I realized they didn't, it was too late. They said they'd kill me. Kill all of us. I'm sorry, Lee.”

“Carley and me defended you,” Snarled Lee, advancing on Ben, “why the hell should we trust you now?”

“Lee?” Carley limped towards them, “What’s going on?”

Lee looked at her, noticing Lilly coming up behind her, “Ben’s just confessed to giving the supplies to the Bandits.” Growled Lee, scowling at him.

“I fucking knew it.” Snarled Lilly, as Carley gave Ben a disappointed look.

“Why?” Asked Carley, looking defeated.

“I-I was scared,” Stammered Ben, “T-they said they had my friend a-and I-I believed them. I-I didn’t mean for a-any of this to happen! I-I didn’t know t-they’d attack us. I-I d-didn’t Katjaa w-would get bit!”

Lee froze, before sharing at look with Lilly and Carley. Without thinking, Lee ran towards the cab, with Lilly and Carley following him. Throwing the cab door open, Lee saw an undead Katjaa crouched over a motionless Kenny, “NO!”

The Walker looked up, Lee shook his head, just as Lilly aimed at them and fired two shots. Putting them down.

“Oh, fuck.” Groaned Lee, looking at the bodies.

“I’ll…” Lilly looked at them, “I’ll take over driving.”

Lee nodded, “What are we gonna tell Duck?”

Carley sighed, “I don’t know.” Her gaze landed on Ben, and it immediately hardened, “He has to go.”

Lee sighed; he saw how Ben flinched when they looked at him. Deciding to handle the Ben situation later, Lee led Carley to the car.

“What’d my dad say?” Asked Duck, excited about the prospect of learning how to use a gun.

Lee swallowed, before looking at Clementine, “There’s something you need to know.”

Chuck frowned as Clementine made her way over to Duck, Lee and Carley. Lee knelt down and looked at them, deciding to address the older issue first, Lee sighed, “Clem, do you remember when we met? How I was in your house? Well, while I was there, I listened to some messages from your mom.”

Clementine brightened, a wide smile taking over her face.

“Clem, your mom…” Lee sighed again, “Your mom said your dad had been bit, she was with him the entire time. I… I’m sorry, Clem, but they didn’t make it.”

Clementine froze, before shaking her head, “No. Y-you’re wrong. You’re lying!”

Lee sighed again, “I wish I was Clem.”

Clementine stared at Lee, before tears started running down her face, surging forwards, Clementine buried her face in Lee’s chest. Duck looked sad, but still looked hopeful.

“Duck,” Carley limped over, “your mom was bit, back at the motel.”

Duck stared up at her, “Is she going to be okay?”

Carley sighed, before swallowing the lump forming in her throat, “Duck, she turned and… attacked your dad.”

Duck stared up at her, before looking down at the floor. Sighing, Carley put a hand on Duck’s shoulder, but the boy shrugged it off and went over to a corner of the boxcar. Carley and Lee shared at look, knowing things were going to be tough for them for a bit.

N

After Clementine and Duck had calmed down, Lee guided both children through how to use a gun, with Carley commenting from the sidelines. Clementine was the batter shot of the two. Lee cut Clementine’s hair, and they drew up a provisional plan. Clementine told them that she’d spoken to a stranger on her radio, mentioning that she’d started talking to him on her birthday. It was at that point that Lilly called back to them and stopped the train.

Lee frowned up at the tankers, before glancing at the cab. Lilly had Ben in restraints in a seat across from her in the cab. She’d told Lee that she’d watch Ben while he checked out the roadblock issue. Chuck had suggested that they take the train to it, only for Lilly to yell out the window of the cab. Lilly’s yelling got the attention of two passers-by, Omid and Christa.

Sighing, Lee looked at Clementine, “You ready, Sweet Pea?”

Clementine gave Lee a small nod, prompting him to look over at the others, “Clem and I are going to check the station down there, see if they have anything useful.”

“Is that a good idea?” Asked Christa, frowning.

“It’ll be a learning experience,” Justified Lee, “I feel that Clem’s ready for it. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Lilly waved at them, as Lee and Clementine walked away. Soon, the two were outside the station, and found the door was locked. Sighing, Lee gave Clementine a boost and the girl managed to unlock the door. They made their way into the station, with Lee propping the door open with the wrench he’d been carrying, before giving Clementine another boost, so she could get into a cage and open it from the inside. Lee was so distracted by making sure that Clementine was alright, that he didn’t notice two Walkers coming up behind him.

“Look out!” Clementine’s cry made Lee spin around. Lee rushed towards the door, just as Christa appeared. Lee had just grabbed the wrench when Christa took out the Walkers. Looking at her, Lee spotted her aiming at the cage, just as a Walker started limping over towards Clementine. Looking over, Lee saw Clementine pointing the gun she had at where the two Walkers had been, froze, before Christa took out the final Walker.

“So,” Christa looked at Lee, “‘What’s the worst that could happen?’”

Lee didn’t bother hiding the wince, “That’s on me.”

Looking around, Christa spotted what Lee and Clementine were after, “Think that’ll help us?”

“Worth a shot.” Said Lee, taking the keys from Clementine and putting them in the lock, “Should’ve made sure the area was clear before doing anything.”

“Yeah,” Scoffed Christa, “you should’ve.”

Sighing, Lee picked the blowtorch up, before looking down at Clementine, “What’d we learn?”

“That I’m not ready for a gun.” Responded Clementine, despondent.

“No,” Corrected Lee, gently, “We learned not to be afraid. They shoulda got us, but we got them.”

“And pull the trigger,” Added Christa, as they started their way back to the train, “don’t think about it, just do it and live with the consequences, everything we’ll ever do will be dangerous.”

“Yeah, you're right.” Clementine nodded, looking up at them.

“Fear is the thing that will kill us,” Finished Lee, “you understand?”

Clementine nodded. A few minutes later, Lee and Omid were cutting the tanker down, as the others got back on the train. Lee glanced in the direction the train came from and froze at the horde of Walkers.

“Shit,” Lee looked down at the cab, “Lilly, start moving the train as soon as this is free!”

Lilly gave Lee what looked like a thumbs up, as the two men worked on cutting the coupling. As soon as the tanker fell, Lee and Omid ran to the other side of the bridge and jumped onto the roof of the train. Lee landed safely, but Omid landed awkwardly and injured his leg. Lee swung himself into the boxcar, as Omid fell to the ground. Christa hopped out and helped him up, with the pair running alongside the train, allowing Lee to pull Omid on board. After making sure Omid was safe, Lee turned to help Christa, only to find the woman hauling herself into the boxcar.

N

Lee sighed, Duck was watching Ben, his dad’s hat in his hands. Chuck and, to a lesser extent, Carley moved Kenny and Katjaa and laid them to rest. If leaving them in clearing could be considered laying them to rest, Duck had been with them. Carley hadn’t said what Duck said, but he gathered it’d be a goodbye to them.

Lilly had questioned Clementine about the guy on her radio, coming to the conclusion that it might be owner of the car they stole from. He, Carley and Lilly talked over what the best course of action for when they got to Savannah.

“While this is practically unstoppable,” Sighed Lilly, twisting around in the drivers seat, “that herd we left behind are still going to follow us. We’d probably have a total of two or three days before they catch up with us.”

“Not the best odds.” Mused Carley, “Maybe we could find an RV or a place to hunker down and wait it out.”

“Which wouldn’t be a problem, if we had the supplies.” Said Lilly, throwing a dark look at Ben, “We still need to decide what to do with him.”

“We can’t leave him.” Protested Clementine, “He was just scared.”

Lee sighed, “Clem, remember what I said earlier.”

“Fear gets us killed.” Recited Clementine, looking down.

“Ben could’ve told us about the… ‘deal’ with the Bandits,” Said Lee, “but he decided to go through with the deal without telling us and put the group at risk.”

“But if he was scared—” Clementine was cut off by Carley.

“Clementine, Ben almost got all of us killed,” Said Carley, “he made a decision that wasn’t his to make and it got Kenny and Katjaa killed.”

Lee looked at Ben, he understood where Clementine was coming from, but he couldn’t let the others be at risk because Ben got scared. Sighing, Lee straightened up, “Ben, anything you’d like to add?”

Ben looked around them, personally Lee thought he looked a bit pathetic, but was prevented from speaking by Duck kicking him. Sighing, Lee pinched the bridge of his nose. It was going to be a long trip.

N

After Duck had kicked Ben, Clementine’s radio had crackled to life and Lilly attempted to confront the stranger, but he cut off the connection. They’d come to the temporary agreement to let Ben stay. They’d run the decision past Christa, Omid and Chuck, Christa thought Ben was a liability, but agreed to go along with the decision. They’d arrived in Savannah and were currently walking through the streets. Things were silent, then a bell tolled nearby, the stranger spoke on the radio again and Walkers descended on them.

Carley managed to take out a couple of the Walkers, before she stumbled as she backed away from a Walker. Lilly took the Walker out, before rushing over and hauling Carley to her feet.

“Lee!” Yelled Lilly, “Help her!”

Lee, after taking out a couple of Walkers, ran over and picked Carley up. Glancing around, Lee froze when he saw Clementine surrounded by Walkers with Ben at her side. Christa was supporting Omid and Lilly had a hold of Duck.

“Ben, help her!” Yelled Lee, as Carley shot at the Walkers.

Then Ben ran off, abandoning Clementine. Everyone froze, before a shovel knocked a Walker back. Chuck gave Clementine a push towards the rest of the group, “Get her the hell out of here! I'll catch up with ya!”

Lee nodded, as Clementine reached them. Looking around, Lee spotted Ben, cowering by a sign. For a moment, Lee thought about shooting him, before Clementine spotted him, “Ben!”

The teen looked at, just as a Walker made him move towards them. Ben had just reached them, running past Chuck, when a Walker trapped under a car grabbed his ankle and crawled out. Ben fell forwards, the gun he had skittering over to the group.

“Guys!” Cried Ben, “Help!”

The Walker buried its teeth in Ben’s leg, as others, drawn by Ben’s screams, started devouring him. Swallowing, Lilly picked up Ben’s gun, “Move your asses! River Street's right up ahead!”

“That's not all...” said Carley, as more Walkers approached them.

“Oh,” Growled Lilly, “give me a fucking break!”

“Wait, where the hell are Chuck and Ben?” Demanded Christa, looking around.

Chuck continued to kill the Walkers with his shovel as more swarmed him. While Ben continued to cry out as the Walker’s devoured him.

“Shit, Chuck's in trouble!” Cried Omid, “We gotta help him!”

Lilly looked at the Walkers approaching them, “We don’t have time! We have to go, now!”

“I'll be fine!” Yelled Chuck, knocking down more Walkers, “Just go!”

Reluctantly, Lee turned and led the group away, until they reached an unlocked gate and entered the back yard of a large house.

N

Sighing, Lee dropped down onto a couch. The house was clear of Walkers, save for one in the attic that Lilly took care of. They’d dug up the grave of a dog to get its collar, since the pet door was locked and the only way to unlock it was to bring a microchip that was either in or on the dog close to it. Duck had asked if they could bury the boy with his dog, with the rest of the group watching. Lee had just finished filling the hole when Lilly shot at someone in the street. It was a man, Lilly thought it was the guy that had been speaking to Clementine, they activated Clementine’s radio to check and now they had a working pair.

“Jesus Christ.” Groaned Lilly, flopping onto the other couch and looking at Lee, “So, what’s the plan?”

“Duck’s mentioned finding a boat,” Said Lee, as Lilly shifted her leg so Omid and Christa could sit down, “said Kenny had mentioned it a couple of times.”

“And we have no idea on how to fix one up if we found one.” Commented Carley, winced as she shifted her leg and arm, “We left all that stuff to Kenny.”

Lee sighed, looking around, “We might as well give it a try, who knows, maybe we’ll find some more supplies.”

Lilly rolled her eyes, “Fine, I’ll get the guns.”

N

Lee frowned as he entered the house, he and Lilly had gone down to the river. They hadn’t found anything, but they did meet Molly, and found that Clementine had snuck out and followed them. Molly explained that she used the bells to lure the Walkers away from an area of the city, she told them about a place called Crawford. Then the Walkers came back, and Lee was separated from Lilly, Molly and Clementine. He found Chuck’s remains and met a small group of cancer survivors, their leader, Vernon, led him through the sewers and to the house.

Lee had mentioned that two of his people were injured to Vernon, with Vernon offering to have a look at them. He found Clementine sitting and looking out a window, for a moment, he was worried that Lilly had been a bit too harsh with her.

“Lilly and Molly helped me find my parents.” Said Clementine, “They let me put them down.”

Lee frowned, but nodded, before looking up when he heard Lilly come in. The woman looked at him, before sighing, “Carley’s going to be fine. The shots were through and through and the tampon trick worked.”

Lilly looked around, “Lee, Vernon’s mentioned Crawford and their supplies. We’re going to be discussing it in a few minutes.”

Lee nodded, before looking at Clementine, “Stay here, Clem.”

“Okay.” Said Clementine, as Lee and Lilly walked out of the room. She waited for a couple of minutes, before following after them.

N

Lee groaned, Clementine and Duck had listened in on their plans to go to Crawford. Clementine insisted on coming with them, while they managed to convince Duck to remain at the house with Carley and Omid. Vernon came back with a member of his group, Brie, and they left for Crawford.

Molly told them about an RV she’d found, it only needed a battery and gas. Lilly and Brie went to get the gas, Christa and Vernon went to get the medicine and Lee went with Molly to get the battery. They left Clementine in the ‘command centre’, which was just a classroom. The girl wasn’t happy about it, but stayed where she was. He and Molly had managed to retrieve a battery, alerting the Walkers to their presence when they set an alarm off.

Molly then took off with the battery in her bag, so Lee went back to the classroom and had a brief chat with Clementine, before Brie and Lilly returned, being chased by Walkers. Lee’d heard them and ran to help, with Clementine shooting a Walker that had its head jammed between the doors. Acting quickly, Lee slid a hatchet through the door handles, preventing the door from opening. The small group returned to the classroom, finding Walkers ambling towards them. They quickly put them down, before Lilly started working on getting a door in the classroom open, leaving Lee to check on Christa and Vernon’s progress. They’d gotten into the office but were blocked by a safe. They found a tape and a camera, they’d hoped that the tape had the combination on it, but it wasn’t.

Lee had gone looking for anything that could provide them with the safe’s combination. He’d eventually found a Walker crawling around in an alley, Lee recognised it, since Molly had pushed it off the roof and started stabbing it with her icepick. Stomping on its head, Lee rummaged through its pockets, finding a tape and a slip of paper. Lee frowned at it, before going back inside when some Walkers started to notice him.

He checked some of the lockers, finding a third tape and went back to Vernon and Christa. They found the combination on the second tape, taking all the medicine and leaving the office. Lee stayed behind, watching the third tape, frowning when he saw Molly and the doctor on it.

N

Duck looked down at the dead Walkers in the living room. They’d gotten in through pet door, he’d put one of them down, while Carley dispatched of the other one. The woman limped around the house, checking the entrances and exits, making sure there weren’t any other Walkers lurking in the dark.

After a short while, Carley reappeared, “House is still clear.” Said Carley, lowering herself onto the couch, “We’re going to have to get the others to work on the barricades when they get back.”

Duck gave a silent nod, going over to the window and looking out of it. His face remained expressionless when he saw a reanimated Ben crawling around the streets.

N

Lee growled as the bell started tolling. The hatchet in the door held, just as Lilly finally picked the lock. They climbed to the top of the tower, with Vernon letting out a laugh at the sight of a Walker hanging from the bell. They all managed to leave alive, while the bell drew the surrounding Walkers towards the remains of Crawford, as the survivors returned to the sewers and made their way back to the house.

“I’ll get this all hooked up and I’ll join you soon.” Said Molly, glancing around, “er, I may also need someone who can drive.”

The group looked amongst themselves, before Lilly sighed, “I’ll do it, see you later.”

N

Carley hissed as Christa checked her stitches, “Careful.”

“I’m trying to be.” Retorted Christa, Lee had gone with Vernon and Brie, making sure they got back to their people, while Clementine and Duck kept an eye on their supplies. Omid had been given an almost clean bill of health, with orders to keep off his leg for a few days. Carley frowned, seeing Molly and her RV arrive with Lilly at the wheel.

“Where’s Lee?” Asked Molly, looking around the group.

“He’s escorting Vernon and Brie back to their people.” Answered Christa, looking at them, “He’s got the other walkie though.”

“That massive herd’s arrived.” Said Lilly, frowning and grabbing the radio she had, “Lee? You there?”

There was a beat of silence, before the radio activated, “He’s here.”

“Vernon?” Lilly frowned, “Where’s Lee?”

“Unconscious,” Answered Vernon, “Lee mentioned a working car lying around. We found it and took it to my people… Lee got bit on his left arm. We’ve amputated and cauterised it. Is there anywhere out of the city where we can meet up?”

“There’s a gas station, Randy’s Pit Stop,” Supplied Molly, looking at them, “I worked there while I took my mechanics class.”

“Randy’s Pit Stop.” Said Lilly, into the radio, “We’ll see you there.”

“Okay, we’ll see you soon.” Said Vernon, before the radio cut out.

N

Lilly frowned as the station wagon rolled into the gas station. She could see Lee in the back, looking a bit pale but alive.

“Everything okay?” Asked Lilly, as Vernon helped Lee out of the car.

“For the most part.” Said Vernon, “He’s got phantom limb, but that’s expected.”

Lilly nodded, silently watching Molly help Lee into the RV, “Thanks, you could’ve left Lee to die but you didn’t.”

Vernon nodded, “Stay safe out there.”

“You too.” Responded Lilly, before she watched Vernon, and his group drive off. Turning around, she climbed into the RV. Lee was next to Carley and Clementine, Omid and Christa were sitting towards the back, Molly was leaning against the kitchenette and Duck was in the passenger seat at the front.

Sighing, Lilly made her way to the driver’s seat. A week ago, she wanted to kill Kenny and Lee, now, she found her main concern being Duck, since Clementine had Lee, and evidently Carley, watching over her.

“So, where do we go?” Asked Lilly, after putting on her seat belt.

“We could try north.” Suggested Lee, sounding tired, “Try and kick around the national parks or something.”

“The cold might slow the Walkers down.” Mused Christa, “But we’ll need supplies first.”

“We got a fairly good haul here,” Shrugged Molly, “might be the same at other gas stations.”

Lilly let out a sigh, “Maybe.” Without another word, the RV pulled off and the group found themselves falling into a comfortable silence, with Lee falling asleep.

Next Story: What if Lee, Lilly, Duck, and Clem were the only survivors of the St Johns?

[fbp-monochrome]

yeah so, when i was like 13, i found the 'they're taking the hobbits to isengard 10 hours' video and decided i had to watch the entire thing. for several days in a row, i would be on the family computer in the kitchen, headphones plugged in listening to 'they're taking the hobbits to isengard' in one tab while i scrolled deviant art or read fanfiction on ff.net. and when i had to log off, i would pause the video and write down the timestamp so that next time i logged onto the computer, i could start right back where i'd left off. listened through all 10 hours eventually. it was an accomplishment. i'd never felt so powerful.

[buildarocketboys]

Idk if I wrote much around this time (apart from my massive high school au that I wrote for Nanowrimo and never really posted anywhere lol) but most of my Robin Hood BBC fanfic can be found on my AO3 here:

I think there's some bits and bobs I might have only posted on tumblr but you can probably find that in my Robin Hood BBC or my writing tags, if you're interested

Am currently reobsessed with BBC Robin Hood (mostly Team Castle) and I want to write fic (and I have several ideas) but I just can't find the inspiration to start. So anyway if anyone wants to talk to me about RH/ask about my fic ideas that would be supremely helpful and also allow me to infodump about my current...SpIn? Hyperfixation? Who knows at this point?

[throughtrialbyfire]

20 Questions for Writers

thank you so much to @wispstalk and @dirty-bosmer for tagging me!! <3

gonna tag @mareenavee @changelingsandothernonsense @thequeenofthewinter @skyrim-forever @trickstarbrave @oblivions-dawn @orfeoarte @gilgamish @totally-not-deacon @archangelsunited !! no pressure as always, and if i havent tagged you and you wanna do this, go ahead and say that i did, i'm tagging you in my mind <33

answering under the read more!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

five atm! but i'm planning on splitting my one-shot-as-chapters fic into individual fics. i think i'll have around 11, then, if i don't take out some.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

99,173

3. What fandoms do you write for?

TES and CoD Zombies! though i don't write a lot for CoD Zombies, just when i get in a certain mood for it here and there. old special interest wont grant me a moments peace lmao

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

i only have five uploaded, but i'll put them here!

1. An Inner Sanctity - 41 2. If By Sun and Moon I Swore - 38 3. Cycle of the Serpent - 23 4. The Mark You Left - 15 5. Portraits Under Forgotten Suns - 2 (this is the one i'm gonna split up into their own fics :3)

5. Do you respond to comments?

yes!! i even carry on convos in the comments sometimes for the hell of it, i love interacting with ppl <33333333

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i think the one-shot for the prompts "forgotten/devotion" for tesfest '23 about the shipwreck of the brinehammer, since the main character dies lmao

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

the one for the prompt "in bloom" from tesfest '23!! it was just a little fluff fic for my ocs athenath and ja'dato <3

8. Do you get hate on fics?

luckily no, the spaces i've found myself in these days are really positive :3 especially compared to when i wrote on FF.net in like 2009

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

none of it is published, but i do sometimes! it's a good way to flex my muscles (haha) in blending thought and action, balancing descriptors (how vivid is Too Much), and seeing how certain characters interact with each other in a vulnerable state. maybe i'll post some someday, idk. mostly i just do it for funsies, so idk what kind you'd classify any of mine.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

i havent in many years, so no, but that could chance if the mood strikes me

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope, but when i was writing for a different fandom in high school, my writing for a particular character wound up on ppls RP accounts as their versions backstory, as well.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no, but if anyone wants to translate my fics, feel free!! just give me a heads-up!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

yep, on my old ao3, a good friend and i turned an RP into a fic! i enjoyed it immensely bc we wrote really well together!

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

idk, i just groove where the dynamics take me <3

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i hate to say it, but An Inner Sanctity needs a major overhaul that i don't have the energy for right now. when i started writing that fic, i didn't have a solid grasp on athenath's personality. now that i do, i'm gonna need to rewrite all the chapters i've had ready for it, and pivot the direction of the fic to get it where i wanted it to wind up eventually. i really do want to finish it, though.

16. What are your writing strengths?

i get a lot of compliments on my imagery/descriptions/atmosphere! i love describing shit, so i'm glad ppl enjoy reading those bits of my work <3 oh!! and character/narrative details. i wrote a ~180k word fic in my senior year of high school solely off my mental notes for it, and it still wasnt finished when i dropped it a year or so later due to Circumstances

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

biting off WAAAAAAAY more than i can chew!! i have so, so many things planned for CotS and who knows if those things will get picked up on by folks or even work later down the line. GAHH

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

if you can realistically do it, go for it. if i could fluently speak all the languages i've tried to teach myself, i'd probably include them in fics where they would fit!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

naruto, i was writing naruto fics on a defunct dress-up site when i was a kid AHAH.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Cycle of the Serpent. theres seldom a time i'm not thinking about those elves. yes, i will admit with my whole chest that i'm a tad desperate for people to read it and interact with it, but i think if i could explain everything (without spoiling it obviously) i have planned for this fic and just how much is going on in the background of the details i throw in, the reasons certain characters behave the way they do, and the amount of time i've spent working on it (the doc for it is at roughly ~96k and we're not even at the Real beginning of the solitude arc) and the sheer amount of hours i've spent making sure details line up, you'd understand why i'm losing all my sanity daniel-amnesia-the-dark-descent style over this story. i started writing it as a for fun "no one's ever gonna see this" exercise that also helped me greatly in recovering from long covid brainfog, and i think even if one day i look back and think of it as "not the best thing i've ever written", it'll still be one of the most passion-driven things i've ever written, and i'm happy about that. <3

woof, what a ramble. if you made it to the end of this, thank you, and i hope you're having a good day!!

[minniethemoocherda]

Iridescent: Chapter 31

A/N: I am so sorry that this chapter is late!! Usually I update on Sundays! And I've managed to update my Across This New Divide series once a week for the past couple of months! But I've been busy with a lot of other fics from different fandoms recently! Plus a lot of personal life stuff! So I'm going to have to go back to one a fortnight updates from now on! Updates will probably alternate between this and my SunnyBlue fic! Sorry again! Xxxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

Prowl slowly came back online. For a moment, he was confused as to why the usual white of his ceiling was now grey.

Then something shifted besides him and Prowl turned his head to see Jazz's head resting in the crook of his arm.

Suddenly the memories of last night came flooding back to him and the concept of the Autobot Head Spy being asleep in his arms actually made sense.

Prowl realised that he had never actually seen Jazz asleep before. Previously Prowl had always fallen asleep first to find his fellow commander gone by the time he woke up.

But now Jazz was nestled into his side, a small smile on his face as his body rose and fell with soft intake of his vents. It was the first time Prowl had ever seen him look at peace.

Prowl managed to save the sight to his memory banks before the previously dim light of Jazz's visor blinked blue as his eyes presumably opened.

Jazz froze. His visor glitches white, apparently as surprised as Prowl to find that he was still here.

For a second Prowl thought the spy was going to bolt. Then a grin graced a his face.

"G'morning beautiful."

People had called Prowl many things over the years; a drone, a stuck up prude and an arsehole. However nobody had ever called him beautiful before. Prowl knew he must have been blushing like a inexperienced sparkling, but there was little he could do to stop it. Especially when Jazz stroked his servo down the side of his burning cheek.

Jazz shifted and Prowl's face flushed even brighter as he thought the spy was going to lean down to kiss him. Then he got out the berth instead.

Prowl felt an unexpected stab of disappointment. The past three instances confirmed that Jazz did not stick around. He should not have expected a different outcome.

He watched as Jazz searched through the draw across the room, waiting for him to find whatever he was looking for before he left. Eventually the spy picked out a bottle of energon, home brewed but thankfully not high grade otherwise Prowl would have to report him for day drinking. Jazz strolled back across the room, but instead of heading out his door, he crawled back into bed.

"You're staying?" Prowl asked, bewildered.

"Well this is my room." Jazz shrugged, holding out the bottle.

Functioning on instinct, Prowl took a sip. It was stronger than he personally preferred and silk smooth the way he knew Jazz liked it. Not sure how to process the unexpected outcome of Jazz actually sticking around, Prowl's eyes wondered around the habsuite. The last time that he had been in here he'd been a bit preoccupied trying to stay alive so he hadn't had the chance to look at it properly.

It was far more sparse than Prowl had imagined. Aside from the electro-base resting in the corner, it was practically empty.

Jazz must've noticed his eyes focusing on the base as after he'd had his turn to drink, he picked it up. Lying back down on the berth, Jazz idly strummed on the strings. Despite appearing to be plucking them at random, Prowl found the melody to be soothingly pleasant to his audials. Prowl knew nothing about music but even he could recognise that Jazz had a natural talent. He couldn't help but wonder what life Jazz could have lived with that talent if not for the war.

"Did you want to be a musician?" Prowl asked.

Jazz snorted.

"Everyone assumes that. Not that I can blame them. And if before everything went to shit if someone had offered me a recording contract I wouldn't have said no." Jazz paused his plucking, stroking a hand along the smooth metal of the instrument's neck. "Actually I wanted to be an actor. So I could be anyone but myself." Prowl watched as his grip around the instrument tightened. Personally, Prowl didn't think that Jazz was such a bad person to be. "I would be famous. And everyone would love me for it." He loosened it again as he let out another snort. "I suppose I did get get my dream in a way. Except instead of dodging paparazzi I'm dodging Deception blaster fire."

Jazz turned his gaze to Prowl. Even after everything Prowl had a hard time deciphering the look beneath his visor.

"What about you then? Why did you become a cop?"

Prowl could tell Jazz that he did it because he wanted to help people. That was the answer he usually gave. And it wasn't a lie. He did want to help others. But…

"I was born with a battle computer embedded within my processor." Prowl said, unconsciousness bringing a servo to the side of his head. He could feel the buzz of the bytes of the computer continuously firing under his skin. "Every day for as long I can remember it would run and run and run different scenarios over and over and over again about anything and everything that had ever happened." He scratched the side of his head, digging for an itch that never went away. "I thought joining the police force would at least put it to good use; to protect lives and keep it's endless outcomes occupied. And the enrichment of scenarios did stop my mind from breaking." Prowl brought his other hand up to his wrist, forcing his servo back down and once again fighting against the urge to rip out his own brain. "But no matter how many different options I would propose on how to fix our system to fulfil its purpose of keeping people safe. Those higher up never cared to implement any of them. Because they never cared about helping anyone in the first place."

That was why it hurt so much when people said he didn't care. Because for the longest time, he was the only one who did.

Even now, he couldn't stop running simulations on how many lives he could have saved if only those in charge had listened.

"You ever thought what you could be without thinking it through your battle computer first?" Jazz asked.

"I can't."

"Really? You never thought about being a musician?"

It was Prowl's turn to snort.

"Even if it was not for this," Prowl tapped his head. "I do not think I would have made a good musician."

"How wouldya know if you never tried? Here!"

Before Prowl could protest, Jazz had placed the base into his lap and Prowl quickly became preoccupied with not damaging it again. So much so that he didn't notice Jazz was now kneeling behind him until he felt the now familiar weight of his arms surrounding him.

Jazz's hands cradled his, moving one hand to the neck of the base whilst the other was held against the strings. Jazz placed his fingers until they mirrored his, and moved them against the strings. They made a simple strumming sound.

"Now you try." Jazz smiled.

Prowl moved his fingers on his own. Once again the strings strummed with sound. He did it again. It was the same outcome. Next time he did it slower, the sound instead coming out soft. He tried and changed and strummed, making as many different sounds as he could.

Prowl had no idea if any it was any good. But in the end it didn't really matter. Music had no logical purpose to it. It couldn't be programmed into a weapon or change the outcome of a battle. It wasn't designed to do anything physical. It was made to evoke a feeling.

To create something without a purpose other than to create was freeing in a way Prowl had never felt before.

Prowl glanced over his shoulder to find Jazz already staring at him.

Despite the fact that they had literally been inside each other, this creation of feeling was the most intimate experience Prowl had ever felt with another person.

"What if you don't need the whole world to love you?" Prowl asked, for once just doing instead of over thinking what he was about to do. "What if you only needed one person?"

"Like who?"

Prowl shivered as the musician's breathe tickled his shoulder.

Jazz moved his hand from the base to cup his chin, holding him the same tenderness he did his instrument.

Prowl glanced at his parted lips, as Jazz tugged them ever closer until he could taste their mingling morning breathes in the air.

"THIS IS OPTIMUS PRIME! DO YOU READ ME?"

Prowl bashed himself into Jazz's nose, completely missing the spy's lips, as the Prime's voice blasted over his comm. By Jazz's echoing wince, he too must've gotten the same message.

"Y-yes sir." Prowl replied, grateful that their leader could not see the state that they were currently in. He couldn't even look at Jazz who had dropped the hand from his chin to instead cradle his own dented nose.

"GO TO THE MEDBAY! NOW!"

[spacealligator]

Master post for my fics

hellou dear (possible?) readers,

my main fandom is the Metric System. Don't expect to find "inches, feet, miles" etc in my writing, it might not sound as kool, but fuck Imperialism.

Also, beware of lots of useless adjectives/adverbs and extremely detailed smut (don't ask me why, I don't know why, I'm trying to unpack that in therapy)

alright, here are the links to the Good Stuff™:

ObiKaka ❤️

My heart will fit a whole forest of you: link, completed -> After Obito comes back from the dead to save Rin, Kakashi tries to understand why he has flowers growing in his hair

Overtime Hours: link, completed, 18+, with a sequel -> Obito is a new employee in the game developing company Konoha and he's already crushing hard on Kakashi, what a shame that he's an alpha too

How to Pick a Good Roommate: link, completed, 18+ -> Obito catches Kakashi fucking one day and he starts fumbling around with his new found sexuality and romantic feelings

Help Me Mr. Handsome Cop!: link, completed, 18+, with other stories as a continuation of the series -> detective Kakashi aks for help from Minato's underworld contact, Obito, but he's very hot and Kakashi is flustered

Other Naruto Stuff

Morning dew on the grass after last night's storm: link, one shot, -> While in mission Yahiko, Konan and Nagato decide to adopt Karin thinking she's just another orphan

Jujutsu Kaisen

Where Loyalty Dies: link, one shot, completed, M rated but not for sexual content, Ieiri Shoko centric -> Shoko works as an underground doctor for the Gojo mafia, and when Suguru appears bleeding on her doorstep, she should turn him in for Satoru, but she helps him instead

Being a multishiper is hard work: here are other ideas plaguing my existence and that I'm writing and will post eventually (not all encompassing list)

ObiKaka Cowboy Bebop AU: save a horse, ride a cowboy

Dark Hinata AU: the goody two shoes girl finally snaps (mood)

one day I hope to write stories centered on the usually forgotten female characters of Naruto, like Mei, Anko, Kurenai, Rin, Shizune etc etc etc very long list

give me other ideas, why not? it's not like my sleep schedule is healthy anyway

find my other profiles:

Ao3 -> Space__Alligator

FF.net -> Space Alligator (with some crossposts from Ao3)

discord -> space_alligator

reddit -> u/SpaceAligator (wow, it's 2024 and you use reddit too and wants to talk to me over there? cringe)

MAL -> SpaceAlligator (do people even use this thing anymore? i just log in to add animes to my list? whatever)

[esta-elavaris]

Flufftober Day 5: X+ 1 ~ Brynjolf/F!Dragonborn [6,164 words]

Three times Brynjolf wondered just who Kirsi was, and one time he found out.

It's 2023 and I'm writing all these words about Brynjolf from Skyrim. Unreal. I can't even explain the word count. It started as a quick flufftober fill and spiralled into this monster. Filled with a hefty dose of humour at how absurd the Dragonborn's travelling companions must find it when they have fifty thousand different careers and excel at them all.

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here 💜✨

It was Brynjolf’s business to be able to take the measure of someone – quickly. It was no good risking being caught with his hand in some poor bugger’s pocket if that bugger was, well, poor. Not that he was ever caught, not since he was a lad, but it was the principle of the thing. The potential risk had to be outweighed by the potential reward, that was just good business, and he was a good businessman.

But Kirsi? It was a funny thing that the more he saw of her, the less it seemed he knew. She’d strolled into Riften with a bow and blade both far finer than the worn fur armour she sported, which could have meant two things. Either she could afford to heed her armour less because by the time the enemy saw her, it was too late – or the bow and blade were stolen, and the armour reflected the truth of her finances. The truth turned out to be both. Which, as far as recruitment was concerned, was perfect. Maybe the signs had been there since day one that she’d end up running their little outfit.

Unfortunately – infuriatingly – that was the last time Brynjolf had managed to successfully gauge much of anything about the Nord lass who infiltrated his thoughts more and more with each passing month. From then on, the only sure thing about her was that she could, and would, produce results. Flitting in and out of the Ragged Flagon with ill-gotten goods in her hands, a smile on her face, and…blood in her hair. Usually.

The first time, Brynjolf commented upon it, asking vaguely if she recalled their rule regarding bloodshed. She’d blinked at him, followed his gaze, and responded with an ‘oh – no, that’s unrelated, don’t worry’ before making a joke about how it blended in with the colour very nicely anyway. And that had been that. Skyrim was a demanding place in which to live, and those who’d never had blood in their hair seldom lasted long, so it wasn’t a major cause for concern.

No, Brynjolf’s cause for concern came months later – long after Kirsi had been made master of the guild, no less. They saw less of her for a while, but that was her way. That was the way with plenty here, even. Folk always turned up eventually, with a story to tell and something to sell to Tonilia, more often than not. This absence stretched on a little longer, yes, but it hadn’t even occurred to Brynjolf to really worry until she did turn up again. And she seemed in no mood for storytelling.

The Ragged Flagon went gradually silent as she walked in. Brynjolf, his usually keen senses off-duty, noticed the silence before he noticed her, turning to see what everybody else was staring at and then stilling. Kirsi strode in, steadfastly avoiding the eyes of any who looked in her direction. She wore her Nightingale armour, but it was not so form-fitting as it once had been, bunching and baggy here and there suggesting a sudden and unhealthy amount of thinning that a jagged sharpness at her jaw and cheekbones confirmed. Her auburn hair had once been bound back into a complicated series of braids, but it had long since rebelled against it, most of it curling in whisps around her face, and she was sporting a new and very angry looking scar on said face.

It ran from her right temple all the way down to her chin, framing the side of her features in a sort of jagged crescent moon.

“Kirsi…” Brynjolf said, stunned.

“I can’t discuss business right now,” she said flatly, her voice hoarse.

He hadn’t intended to discuss business…but he supposed he deserved it. He’d been avoiding her before she left, and it seemed she’d noticed. Unsurprisingly. Brynjolf fell silent, watching as she turned her head in the direction of Galathil who sad in her usual place, lifting a hand absentmindedly to the scar that they all stared at. Ultimately, she appeared to think better of it. Instead, she dropped a weighty bag of gold down onto the bar, loaded her arms up with bottles of mead, and headed for the cistern without another word.

“What was that?” Vex was the one to break the silence.

“I dunno,” Delvin responded grimly. “But she didn’t even look like that when Mercer…”

There was little need for him to elaborate on that. Brynjolf’s lips set into a thin line, then he counted to twenty, and finally he followed.

Kirsi was at her bed when he entered the cistern, not bothering to hunker behind the screen as she changed – not unusual, few of them here bothered with modesty. And the looks she was drawing were more to do with shock and dismay than anything that might be considered leering. Already she was halfway out of her Nightingale armour, and Brynjolf could see that there was little of her from the neck down that was not badly, badly bruised. Or burned. Or littered with gashes that looked one wrong twist away from reopening.

Whatever healing she’d undergone, be it from potions of magic, it appeared she’d prioritised them to heal her face. That, or they’d all been much worse beforehand. It was hard to gauge the state of her armour thanks to the colour, but he suspected if he took a real look, he’d find it stained badly with blood.

"Wouldn’t you be more comfortable at Honeyside?” he asked – if only to stop himself standing and staring like a fool any longer.

“Am I not welcome here?”

“You know that’s not what I meant, lass.”

At her home in the city – which she would’ve had to bypass to get here, no less – her bed was bigger, and she had a housecarl who could help her. Not that those here wouldn’t, but she didn’t seem to be in the mood for their company. It would be less stifling for her, he suspected, accepting help from one whose sworn duty was to offer it.

“Nobody can find me here,” she said finally.

After several deep breaths. Brynjolf couldn’t quite figure whether they were against whatever pain she was feeling, or just an attempt to find the patience for a conversation. She was wound tight, it was plain as day as she kicked her armour under the bed now that she was stripped down to her smalls, before she pulled a shirt over her head. There seemed to be little intention of finding breeches to go with it.

“…Are people looking for you, lass?”

People who had done this? There was a dangerous, angry streak in Brynjolf that hoped they’d come here looking. They’d regret it sorely.

“No,” she shook her head. “Just don’t want to be found.”

She paused, then, pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing. “There’s just…there’s always something else. Can’t be dealing with it now.”

Brynjolf stilled, lost for words. Then he asked quietly.

“Do you need anything, lass?”

“Just sleep,” she said quietly.

What in the name of Talos had she gotten into? Where was it that she disappeared to so frequently? Who was she?

Kirsi slept for three days – stirring here and there to sit up and down a bottle of mead, or to turn over in a slow and beleaguered fashion that left nobody in any doubt as to how sorely she felt her injuries – but otherwise, she was out cold. The same conversation was had over and over in that time.

She needs a healer.

She is a healer.

I don’t think she has the strength to heal herself more.

Could someone carry her up above to get her help?

I don’t think she’d allow it.

Could we bring someone down here to look her over? Someone that won’t blab?

I don’t think she’d allow that, either.

Ultimately, Thrynn looked her over…with all of his limited healing knowledge, gleaned here and there from his days of patching himself up amidst bouts of banditry. Kirsi didn’t seem to notice it much. The unease in Brynjolf’s stomach gnawed deeper.

She’s more exhausted than injured, he ultimately concluded.

It didn’t cheer them much. Then, on the fifth day, she rose. The signal was given by Vipir, who strolled through the Flagon whistling a jaunty little tune, and Brynjolf was moving swiftly thereafter. Ignoring the looks that followed him. He entered the cistern expecting to find her sitting up, or maybe at the little cavern that they designated as a kitchen. Instead she was up, she was dressed, and the contents of her pack were strewn across her bed as she methodically took inventory for the trip ahead. Wherever that would be.

Brynjolf felt alarm streak through him – very much not liking the prospect of her barrelling off into the unknown after worrying them all sick for the better part of a week.

“What happened to your dagger, lass?” he asked rather than voicing any of that.

Ever since she’d commissioned it from Balimund, he’d never seen her parted from it.

“Lost it,” she muttered sourly.

“Where?”

She could have that thing wrenched out of her hand and flung into the Sea of Ghosts and she’d go diving in after it.

“Sovngarde,” she grunted.

Not in the mood for serious conversation, then.

“When are you heading out?”

“Why? Are you coming with me?”

Brynjolf made a very quick, very impulsive decision then.

“If I’m invited.”

Stilling, she turned her head and stared at him for a few long moments.

“You’re being serious?” she asked, tone unreadable.

“Things here can keep for a while,” he shrugged. “I trust the others to stop the place from burning down in my absence.”

And it was far, far better than torturing himself wondering what she was up to and how she was doing, should she leave alone.

“And you wouldn’t just rather speak another time?”

Brynjolf forced a strained laugh. “I deserve that.”

Kirsi tilted her head as if in agreement. Then, finally, she sighed.

“Don’t wear your Guild armour. Don’t pack light, either. I don’t know how long I’ll be this time,” she said, watching as he nodded along. “And Brynjolf? You have to listen to me while we’re out there. If I say no…extra-curricular activities in a certain hold, I mean it.”

“We did well enough together at Irkngthand, didn’t we?”

She considered his words for a long moment, with eyes that he knew had sussed out many a foe, and then finally she nodded.

“Fine. We leave after midday.”

“We leave,” he countered, “once you’ve eaten something.”

That earned another sigh, but it was followed by another nod, and Brynjolf took it as a good sign that she listened to him.

Stepping out into the world again felt like a gradual lightening for Kirsi. Even with the worried looks Brynjolf kept pretending he very much was not sending in her direction. They stopped at Honeyside just long enough for her to switch out weapons, stock up on potions, and for Iona to fix her new travelling companion with a withering glare, and then they were out of Riften.

She didn’t know why she’d agreed to let him come along. Well, she did know, she just wasn’t a massive fan of said reasoning. This was the first time he hadn’t given her the brush-off in months, and even in her exhaustion and the numbness that had overtaken her since defeating Alduin, she didn’t want to squander whatever chance there might’ve been for things to go back to normal between them.

…and she was at least present enough to know that weeks spend wandering and camping on her own would do little to help her mental state, at present. Maybe she could’ve hired someone to watch her back and provide civil conversation, but she also didn’t want to shoulder the responsibility of that. Brynjolf had asked to come along, and so his hide was therefore his own concern.

Being out and moving felt good, though, and with every stray breeze that caught her hair and every birdsong that met her ears, she felt more like her old self. Maybe she just needed to be reminded that it was all still here. When they set up camp for the night, she was even laughing when Bryn went out of his way to try and make her do so…although she knew just how dour she must’ve been since her return when she saw how surprised he was to get any sort of response at all.

“I’m not asking that you tell me now, lass,” he hedged when dinner was eaten and there was little to do but doze by the fire ‘til morning came. “But I have to know…are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Probably not,” she admitted quietly.

And he accepted it readily enough. Or hid well, if he did not. Well, save for one comment, spoken incredibly lightly.

“I dread to think what’s so salacious and sinister that even I can’t be told about it.”

She snorted quietly, staring at the stars above. “It’s not salacious. Nor sinister. It’s just…a lot.”

Keeping her countless lives separate was something she always endeavoured to do, all while being painfully aware that bits and pieces were bound to crash in on one another at some point. This wasn’t like keeping a spouse and a lover secret from one another, it was bigger and more all-encompassing than that. She toed the line between doing what she could to keep those boundaries in place, while staying detached enough that she wouldn’t fall to pieces should the lines in the sand be erased by a crashing wave.

It was just…neater. The guild had to stay secret for obvious reasons – she could only imagine what Vilkas or Ulfric would think if they saw her slipping into the Ragged Flagon and making all sorts of underhanded deals with her friends down there. She could even kid herself that it was easier for the guild if they didn’t know about any of the rest of it. That maybe they’d balk if they realised their Guild Master was the Dragonborn, or Ulfric’s best soldier, Thane of too many holds to count, or even Archmage of Winterhold’s college. All those titles didn’t particularly lend themselves to secrecy.

But that wasn’t why she kept it from Brynjolf. She didn’t want to be the Dragonborn, nor Stormblade, nor the Harbinger, or whatever else she was known as across this land, when Brynjolf spoke to her. When he deigned to speak to her, these days.

Which was why it was a risk bringing him with her.

But she was a thief, was she not? She was good at sneaking.

It took the better part of three weeks for them to get to Whiterun – with Kirsi gradually healing herself with magic and potions both as they travelled. By the end of the first week she was smiling freely again, and by the end of the second she was cracking her own jokes to go along with his. Brynjolf didn’t press the matter of what had gotten her into such a state, and she didn’t make any more allusions to his steadfast avoidance of her prior to it, so he did what he could to avoid looking that gift-horse in the mouth.

When Whiterun loomed before them, jutting up above the rest of the landscape, she issued those aforementioned orders that he’d promised to follow back in Riften. No stealing, no conning, no shenanigans. If I have to start bullshitting, go along with it. He’d shrugged and agreed, too pleased at her swift change in spirits to start arguments now.

And the time for that bullshitting came alarmingly quickly, for they hadn’t yet yet cleared the Honningbrew Meadery when a group of warriors came walking from the other direction, spotted her, and immediately approached.

“Shit,” she breathed.

Brynjolf’s hand had been straying towards his sword when one called out.

“Kirsi! You’re back!”

They were two men and a woman, the first to greet her being the bigger of the two men. Twins, Brynjolf quickly realised, despite their difference in stature – both sporting long dark hair, and dark war paint around their eyes. The woman, another redhead, watched he and Kirsi curiously as the men stepped forth to shake her hand and then pull her into a one armed hug that mostly consisted of a thump on the back.

“Farkas,” she greeted with a tired smile, then repeating the gesture with the other two. “Vilkas. Aela.”

“We didn’t know when you were coming back. After that business with the dragon at Dragonsreach…” Aela greeted.

“Well, I’m back now,” she interrupted quickly.

“With a sellsword, too. Can’t fight your own battles these days?” Vilkas asked, his eyes lingering on Brynjolf.

Brynjolf returned the scrutiny with a lazy smile. It didn’t endear him to the man…but he hadn’t particularly intended it to.

“Not a sellsword – a friend,” she said. “This is Brynjolf. Brynjolf, these are the Companions.”

“Companions to who?” Brynjolf greeted wryly.

“Ysgramor,” Vilkas sneered.

“Oh. You must be older than you look, then.”

“We’re only here for the night. For a comfortable place to sleep and a good meal,” Kirsi interrupted – shooting a look in his direction that was too amused to hold any real bite to it.

“You’ll find both in Jorrvaskr,” Farkas said. “You and your friend. Come. It’s been too long.”

If any other than Brynjolf noted her reluctance, they did not show it.

They arrived to the Companions’ long-hall just in time for dinner – which was swiftly followed by drinking and merry-making thereafter. Brynjolf was accustomed to fudging the details as far as his identity was concerned; not often introducing himself with ‘good morning, I’m a high-ranking member of Skyrim’s biggest criminal enterprise, Dark Brotherhood notwithstanding’, and so he was able to do so here without blinking.

Well, there was one moment that gave him cause to blink. Harbinger. He had heard of the Companions, of course, he wasn’t a fool. His question by the gates had mainly been to rankle the dark-haired man who clearly loathed his presence and whatever his association might’ve been with  Kirsi. Any doubt Brynjolf had as to that loathing was gone when he saw how the man’s eyes followed her about the hall throughout the night. And more-so when Brynjolf dragged her up for a dance, bringing yet another smile to her face…and a matching one to his own.

The glare gained yet more frost to it when Ria asked Kirsi about her new scar, and she lifted a hand self-consciously to it, muttering something about a dragon. Brynjolf took it to be a joke – it was what people used as an explanation for every minor cut and scrape since the beasts returned to Skyrim, but the Companions murmured appreciatively.

“I’m sure it’ll fade, with time,” the Imperial offered reassuringly.

“It suits you,” Brynjolf said simply, returning Kirsi’s gaze boldly when she eyed him in surprise – as if trying to figure out whether he was teasing or not.

When the hour grew so late that it was technically early, Kirsi finally drummed her hands against the long table at which they’d feasted, announcing loudly.

“It’s time we headed to Breezehome – I’ll come by in the morning before I leave.”

“Why not stay here? Tilma readied your quarters while we’ve all been up here. Your friend can bed down with the whelps,” Vilkas commented.

Njada made a noise of displeasure somewhere down the table. The suggestion put her in an uncomfortable position - Brynjolf could see that easily enough. Refuse, and it would be a rejection of the people whom her role here was to offer guidance. Accept, and a lesser man might be insulted in Brynjolf’s shoes. But Kirsi considered it, sighed, and then spoke.

“The Harbinger’s quarters are big enough to share, Bryn. Come on – Tilma will have a bath waiting, too.”

Brynjolf grinned as he watched Vilkas’ regret at saying a word wash over his face.

The rooms below Jorrvaskr were cooler than the hall above, not so warmed by bodies and smoke and revelry, but a bath did indeed wait there for them in the bedchamber next door to the sitting room, steam rising steadily from it.

“Ladies first,” Brynjolf shrugged.

Weeks on the road together had shed them of whatever modesty might have remained, and Kirsi shrugged and began to strip off.

“Multiple rooms, eh lass?” he commented, taking stock of the fineness of the room.

“They’ll always feel like Kodlak’s rooms to me,” she commented quietly. “My predecessor.”

“Even so, it’s funny to think what bed you chose to fall into when you needed that rest when this waited for you here.”

“Don’t act like you don’t remember what I said at the time.”

“Mm. Still, there’s a lad up there that would’ve waited on you hand and foot while you recovered.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” he snorted, but then a furious motion caught his eye even as he studiously trained his gaze straight ahead.

Kirsi was in the bath, the water steadily turning murky after weeks of travel – which made it a little easier for him to keep his eyes stuck on her face, despite the flush that crept up from his neck towards his cheeks. She motioned once across her neck as if to say ‘stop’, and then pointed to her ear, and then the door.

Brynjolf almost laughed. In what world would they be overheard all the way down here? But there was no room for argument in her gaze and he slumped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, one question on his mind.

Who are you, Kirsi?

Despite Kirsi’s fears, Brynjolf finding out about her identity – one of them, at least – did not instate the sort of distance she’d feared it might. Oh, a fair amount of good natured ribbing came her way, but with Brynjolf that was always a decidedly good thing, and so she left Whiterun in a better mood than she’d arrived…and in a mood that was unrecognisable to the one she’d departed Riften in.

Rescuing townsfolk from bandits holding them hostage? You’re joking. What are the guards doing? Resting?

You make saving lives sound like a bad thing.

It might be, depending on what it pays. How much?

What?

How much each time? What’s the going rate for a saved life?

…It doesn’t matter. It pays in more than gold. Goodwill. Contacts. Reputation.

By the Nine, it’s a pittance, isn’t it? How much Kirsi? I’ll just keep irritating you until you tell me.

…A hundred gold each time.

When he stopped laughing – which felt like hours later – he pointed out he could make ten times that depending on the job he took. Her pointing out that she could also raid whatever lairs the jobs sent her into did little to help.

Don’t tell me half the goods you fence to Tonilia are gotten honestly, lass. It’ll break my heart.

And it was too difficult to act annoyed by him when she was laughing along.

From Whiterun they turned north to Windhelm. Kirsi withdrew her rule against larceny for all of an hour so that Brynjolf could liberate a farmhouse of a couple of bottles of wine – more for the thrill than anything else, and because free wine tasted better. That night when they made camp, they mulled it over a fire and huddled together far more closely than the barely-encroaching chill necessitated. By the time they were a few tankards deep, she felt giddy and foggy and overall like herself again, matters of fate and destiny and death and Sovngarde, and what a Dragonborn was worth once they’d achieved their purpose, fading behind Brynjolf’s jokes and the way he kept smiling at her and looking at her.

The night was pressing on when she found herself pressed against him beneath a blanket, their backs against a tree, her head on his shoulder as she was pulled further and further towards sleep.

“Lass?” he murmured lowly. “Kirsi?”

She didn’t respond – the original intention being to not respond right away, needing to blink herself into wakefulness before she could wrap her lips around syllables, much less words. But after a moment of silence, he relaxed and pulled her closer.

“I won’t give you the brush off again,” he murmured.

They were words that should have been basic decency, but they had the sound of a vow. As well as that not intended for conscious ears. So she pretended to be asleep, and soon she was no longer pretending.

It took another two weeks for them to reach Windhelm, not helped by their unhurried pace that defied the cold snapping at their heels. Kirsi, aptly named after the frost, seemed to enjoy it if anything. And Brynjolf? Brynjolf…endured it. With a smile. Primarily because he was happy. Happier than he’d been in a while…and more content than he’d admit in this strange and unexpected little routine they’d slipped into together by now.

He was happy as they slipped into Windhelm in the early hours of the morning, when he watched Kirsi pay a little brown-haired lass a hundred times what the entire stock of flowers she peddled were worth, when he found out that had been Kirsi’s main reason for wanting to come here in the first place (for it had been a while since she’d last given the wee girl a stupid amount of gold, and she was worried the last lost may have run out by now), and he was happy when they slipped into Hjerim – her stupidly big Windhelm home – and began to cobble together a hot meal.

Most of all, he was wrapped up in the atmosphere that had fast begun to overtake them. The one that had him enforcing that distance all that time ago, that stupid distance, convincing himself that his own worries were valid concerns about business and the running of the guild and not just cowardice over not wanting to face how he’d feel if it went tits up. That worry was still there, and it would gnaw at his insides like a pack of skeevers if he let it, but it was overpowered by how much he could get used to this. The little smiles. The looks. The complete lack of personal space between them as they went about their little routines.

That happiness was put on pause when a knock interrupted their dinner preparations.

Cursing beneath her breath, much as she had when they’d been spotted by the Companions, she cleaned her hands free of flour from the bread she’d been making and strode for the door. Brynjolf followed, a dagger in hand behind his back, a force of habit.

“Jorleif,” she greeted tiredly. “What is it?”

“Still not one for pleasantries, I see,” Jorleif replied. “High King Ulfric invites you to sup with him tonight – he was pleased to hear you were back in Windhelm.”

“I brought a guest with me.”

“Bring the guest, please!” Jorleif responded happily enough. “Galmar will be there, too. A real reunion, through and through.”

“When?”

“As soon as you can get to the Palace of the Kings, I expect.”

“…Wait here.”

Turning away from the door, she almost walked straight into Brynjolf – and then breathed a soft laugh at the weapon in his hand. Taking up the bread dough in its bowl from the kitchen table, she strode back to Jorleif and thrust the bowl into his hands.

“Here. Have the cooks bake this, I don’t want it going to waste. Move quickly, or else the cold will ruin it."

Whether it was a ploy to be rid of the messenger quickly, a way to amuse herself, or she was truly very excited about that particular loaf of bread, it had the intended effect – the man was quickly gone, and she turned a look filled with trepidation in Brynjolf’s direction.

“How would you like to have supper with the High King of Skyrim?”

Had he not overheard the exchange, he’d never have believed her.

Rather than rush to her wardrobe to change into finery, she settled for brushing the flour from her armour (and her hair) and then leading the way out of the door. It was a short walk to the palace – and Brynjolf’s disbelief did surface when he saw how Ulfric Stormcloak greeted Kirsi. With a warm greeting, and a hug.

“When did you arrive, Stormblade?” he asked, paying Brynjolf all the attention High Kings likely usually paid people who didn’t immediately interest them.

“This morning, my King,” she bowed at the neck and was forcibly straightened, Ulfric having none of it.

“This morning? I should set the guards on you for being here so long without coming here. And who’s this?”

He had not yet looked at Brynjolf, but it was plain he had not escaped his notice.

“Brynjolf. A friend – and a travelling companion. Bryn, this is Ulfric Stormcloak, and his housecarl Galmar Stone-fist.”

This is Ulfric. Like he was a friend from the tavern and little more. Was he supposed to bow? Brynjolf did not bow – not to anybody. He didn’t much want to start here. So instead, he cleared his throat and looked between the two of them.

“I wasn’t aware you rubbed shoulders with royalty, Kirsi. I imagine how you met must be quite the tale.”

Galmar breathed a harsh laugh. “She’s not told you? By Talos, if I’d survived Helgen all within a hundred leagues of me would know the tale at all times.”

Helgen? Brynjolf stared in disbelief. The look remained on his face throughout dinner, and he was in less of a mood for teasing than he had been in Whiterun.

Do you remember Korvanjud, girl? When you snuck up onto the walkway and rained fire down on those Imperial bastards from above?

Ulfric had cut in there. I remember it. I still owe you that drink, don’t I?

You fought in the war? Brynjolf had asked, unable to help himself.

She’s not told you that either, lad? By Talos, I don’t know how Ulfric would’ve won the damn thing as swiftly as he did without the Dr-

Galmar. Kirsi had cut in, fixing the man with a hard stare.

…Without the driving force that Stormblade here proved to be. Ulfric had covered for his housecarl – and Brynjolf didn’t buy it for a second.

They returned to Hjerim that night in silence.

“Brynjolf, sooner or later you’ll have to say something to me.”

After dinner, they’d retired back to her home wordlessly, and Kirsi didn’t try to break the silence until they were out of the city gates early the next morning. Brynjolf suspected she was worried that High King of hers would issue an invitation for breakfast, too, if they didn’t make themselves scarce.

“The Companions were one thing. Harbinger, do-gooder, whatever. I figured you need easy money to supplement your finances, a cover for all of the ill-gotten gold you make with us. Whatever. Soldiering? Not my business either – the civil war never interested me, and maybe it’s a good thing that your mighty High King’s victory stopped Maven from being directly in charge of the Rift. It’s even a relief to know your not being scared of her has reasonable roots that go beyond plain old foolishness. Maybe even who you are – whoever that is – provides you with useful contacts, I don’t know. But that’s the point. I don’t know. And the more I see, the less I know.”

“Bryn…”

“Are you a highborn lass, then? Is that it? Because you’ve done too much for us for me to call that a conflict of interest, you know?”

“Not at all. I’m as common as the muck beneath our boots.”

“Most peasants don’t sup with High Kings.”

“A twist of fate, little more.”

“One you don’t trust me enough to explain.”

“It’s not like that.”

“What is it like?”

Sighing, she shook her head and looked out across the snow landscape, visibly searching for the words.

“Most folk like me in the context they know me in. You insist Vilkas is in love with me, and maybe he is, but only in the context he knows me in. He could barely square himself with my throwing a fireball at a draugr – some nonsense about it not being an honourable way or fight, I don’t know what the- anyway, if he does love me, he loves Kirsi, the Harbinger of the Companions and Thane of Whiterun. The one who disappears and returns having cleared out a cave of bandits, or rescued a citizen, or beat the shit out of someone who threatened a villager. That’s not me. You know that better than anybody. If he saw the rest of it? He’d go from being attracted to me, to wanting to take up arms against me very damn quickly. I can’t even resent him for it, either. He believes what I’ve led him to believe.”

It was clear she wasn’t done when she paused, and so Brynjolf waited in silence for her to continue.

“Ulfric…he’s less rigid, perhaps. Not that he’s in love with me. If he was ever going to pursue anything like that, it would be because of what I am and not who I am.

“I’m sure he has enough soldiers to take his pick from, lass.”

“It’s not that I was referring to,” she muttered sourly. “So long as I’m subtle about whatever else I get up to, I’m sure he doesn’t care. But is that better or worse than Vilkas’ outlook? I don’t…I can’t have that happen again. Not with you.”

“You think I’d go running because you give gold to orphans and run an outfit of block-headed warriors?”

“I don’t run then. And they’re not block-headed,” she said softly. “And it’s more than that.”

“How much more, Kirsi?”

“Much more. An entire world-load of complications. And you’ve shut me out before for less.”

Brynjolf faltered. “Kirsi…lass…”

They were interrupted by the screech of a dragon, and then a blast of fire.

The battle was a hard-won one. She’d fought worse dragons, after all – the worst dragon – but she was certain the ones that were left were growing fiercer, as if in some desperate bid to cling onto the foothold they’d previously dug out for themselves in this land.

They hadn’t been far from Kynesgrove, and so they’d been joined by miners and guards as they battled the beast, but that threatened to be more of a help than a hindrance – making sure none were in the line of fire as she shot spells and bellowed Shouts at the dragon until finally she could make the killing blow, driving her blade through its eye.

She turned to Brynjolf then, looking at him almost mournfully as she fought to regain her breath, well-accustomed by now to the feeling of the dragon’s soul whipping about her body and finally sinking in. It felt like she was being held before a bonfire, the heat just shy of actually burning. Brynjolf stared, his face splattered with dragon blood, his eyes wide.

“I’m the Dragonborn,” Kirsi breathed.

Like the skeever wasn’t already out of the bag. How long had she refused to use Shouts around him? Even in their pursuit of Mercer through Falmer-infested caves. All for nothing. Brynjolf continued to stare – a time during which she did her best to predict what he would do. Mostly, her money was on an awkwardly mumbled “I’m heading back to Riften, I’ll see you next time you complete a job”.

Instead, though, he threw down his blade and strode towards her, few paying them much mind at all as they trailed back towards whatever they’d been doing when the dragon descended. Now it was Kirsi’s turn to stare…right up until he was within arm’s length of her, when he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her towards him, pulling her into a kiss that filled her with fire more than the souls of a hundred dragons ever could.

When he pulled back, he stayed close, one rough fingertip trailing across the scar at the side of her face. Kirsi was fast deciding she wasn’t going to have the face sculptor get rid of it, after all.

“No more secrets, lass?”

“No more secrets,” she confirmed softly, eyes flickering down to his lips and then up to his eyes again. “Although…”

Her hands had come to rest at his chest and she felt him stiffen, dreading what she was going to say next.

“I’m also the Archmage at the College of Winterhold,” she said. “I thought we might go there next.”

Brynjolf breathed a laugh, his forehead pressing against hers. “I can live with that.”

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune