#like my fics are still pre season 4

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

OKAY SO it may be almost two hours past midnight for me and it may be season 4 in 2 minutes BUT I am going to make this post lol. So, it's time for HSMTMTS Appreciation Week Day Four: Favorite Episode/Season!

Honestly I don't think I have one of either xD

I love all the episodes, and most of the time when someone asks me for my favorite of something (like books or movies) I just go with the one that has the most rewatch/reread quality/potential. So, some of these episodes may just be the ones I watch the most lol.

Each season has their pros and cons for me, but I will say I think I enjoy season 2 more than most people! The ending isn't amazing, sure, but it has some really great music, ship moments, acting, and Wildcat family moments :).

Season 1, they're not all family for a little while, and we don't have as much development on some of the others, nor most of the ships. But it's also fun that it's the most grounded season lol, and it just has a special charm. Also, it really focuses on the musical lol!

And season 3, obviously I miss Seb, Big Red, Mr. Mazzara, and half Nini and Ms. Jen from it :). And sometimes the drama is a lot, but at the same time, there's so many cute and fun moments, it is absolutely HILARIOUS, and the change of setting is super cool :). Since I'm a multi shipper, it's also a con for Portwell and a pro for Rina lol xD.

Anyway! Now, a few of my favorite episodes :).

Season 2 Episode 5: is this one a surprise even xD. I love Seblos, I love the Wildcats, and I love great music! What more could you ask for? Also, it's just so sweet that they'd throw a big party for one of their friends like that :'). And it's especially cool seeing Carlos be appreciated <3. Plus, it gave us "I never learned how to lie", so you know xDD.

Season 2 Episode 10: LISTEN. Again, is it partly because of Seblos lol? . . Sh xD. But seriously, it's great Seblos drama, the music is once again amazing, and I LOVE the sleepovers :D!! The recipe for my favorite episodes is really just Seblos, Music, Wildcats xD. Lol. But seriously, it's such a good episode <3.

Season 1 Episode 6: Maybe it's just because it hits home, which is weird because that makes it bittersweet, but I love this episode. It's really focused more on them being a family than any of the ships (which is interesting and a nice change of pace :) ) and it has some great music! Plus, the photoshoot lol. And of course, a few Seblos moments, and some lovely Carlos angst xD. Justice for the Seblos deleted scenes 😤😔. Lol, but yeah, I love this episode <3.

Season 1 Episode 7: Again, my Wildcats xD. I was hesitating to put this on here because the end hurts me so much, but it's just too good :). We have Carlos inviting everyone to someone else's house (for the first time, I think, lol), Ricky and Nini being chill for a bit, Gina being adorable, and the start of Redlyn 👀. Lol, remember when one of the half jokingly proposed ship names was Big Rashlyn xD? Bring it baaaack lol, we deserve it. In a good way, not as punishment xD. Anyway! The real star of the show this episode, though, is of course the party :). We love the Wildcats being family, and I seriously love them all so much <3. And again, Seblos moment lol. The music is good this episode (I adore Out of The Old), but there's not too much of it lol, so I forgot to mention it and came back here after the next paragraph xD.

Season 3 Episode 7: LISTENNN. Once again, I can do anything I want xD. I think I said that earlier, or maybe in one of the other posts, but nonetheless lol. I say it a lot regarding things like this lol. Anyway! Obviously, SEBBB!!! HE RETURNS TO ME :'DDD!! But we also have Ricky's bucket list (ADORABLE) and everyone's ICONIC outfits :D. So sorry to Portwell though :( xd. That does hurt throughout the episode lol. Oh, and of course we have the iconic welcoming of Ashlyn to the community :'). And Wouldn't Change a Thing!!! Such a slay :D. Honestly though, I love the ending, like, after the dance. I don't know if I love it more than the prom itself, but seeing the guys come together and support each other, and the same for the girls, with a BOPPING song in the background? Amazing :'D. And, of course lol, Seblos moments <3. And the second Seblos kiss!! I love them so much :). And, like I said, amazing music!!

Season 3 Episode 5: This one is just so hilarious xD. I had to include it lol. Plus, :O drama a bleeped out curse on HSMTMTS!! We don't get many so that's a slay for being unique xD. Also yes, Carlos totally deserves it 😌😤. Like, to get one lol. Just like Natalie, lol. Anyway!! Yeah, this is so funny xD. It also has great music!! The drama hurts, of course, but we love the little moments of supporting each other xd. And again, I just have to mention how FUNNY it is, those moments xD. Plus, the fact that it's all (well, yk. Mostly xD) a plot is amazing lol. I just love this episode lol.

So yeah!! I think that'll do it for today :). I probably won't be on Season 4 for a bit tomorrow, as in it'll take me a little while lol. I still need to finish my rewatch xD. But, I will watch it!!! And I'm so excited :)) 🥰.

[amtrak12]

Since I can’t tell if my current depression wave is because it’s March and 30 degrees F outside or because of my new (old) birth control -- I have taken to giving myself assignments like read one Lucifer fic a day so I can retrain my brain to be happy.

My second assignment is to not get bitter over having to treat fic reading like brushing my teeth when it was my favorite thing to do for years and years and years. But alas, if I don’t force myself to read fic, then it won’t happen and then the happy hormones don’t go zipping through my head :(

[dixons-sunshine]

Scooby Snacks with your Whiskey | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Summary: One night when you couldn't sleep, you decided to join Daryl in the guard tower and keep him company. During a game of truth or drink, Daryl unknowingly insulted your favourite childhood cartoon, which resulted in playful arguments, accidentally shattered whiskey bottles and confessions.

Genre: Fluff

Era: Prison, post season 3, pre season 4

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, sexual innuendos but nothing major.

Word count: 3.7k

A/n: This is based off of what Daryl told Beth in s4 episode 12 right before they set the cabin on fire. He was talking about a cartoon about a talking dog, and my mind instantly went to Scooby Doo, and so this fic was born. It's not really good, since I'm still trying to get into the writing momentum, but I hope you enjoy!

Also, my requests are open for any TWD requests if y'all wanna send any!

—

"Hey. Would you mind some company?"

At the sound of your voice, Daryl turned around. He hummed and nodded for you to come closer, to which you complied. You stood beside him in silence, quietly observing the walkers at the fences. Unbeknownst to you, Daryl was stealing glances at you, his hands fidgeting with his crossbow string.

His heart fluttered at the sight of you, a regular thing that happened whenever he was in your general area. You looked up at him with that smile that always made butterflies fly around in his stomach and your eyes always seemed to sparkle brighter than the stars in the night sky, and although Daryl liked the quiet away from everyone, you were one of his only exceptions.

Daryl loved hearing you talk. He loved listening to you talk about your life before and although he wouldn't admit it, he was always captivated by the bedtime stories you told little Judith. The way you changed your voice to match the emotion of the part you were telling, even though Judith didn't understand anyway and would react the same regardless, was enchanting to him. He would listen to you talk for hours if he could.

And above all, he loved your caring yet badass nature. The way you would take down walkers with a skilled ease, and then in the same breath turn to him and check him for any injuries with a concerned look on your face made him feel drawn to you. You actually cared about him, in a way nobody ever had. Daryl didn't believe that anything was perfect, but you were the closest thing to perfect there was.

It also didn't help that you were absolutely breathtaking to him. From the beautiful colour of your eyes to your perfectly plump lips that he's wanted to kiss on more occasions than one. Daryl couldn't define how he felt about you because he never felt this way about anyone before, but he knew his feelings for you ran deeper than what could be described as platonic. And that fact scared him.

A soft sigh from you snapped Daryl from his thoughts. He looked over at you and noticed that you seemed to be deep in thought, a small frown on your face as you kept your eyes trailed on the ground below.

"Penny for yer thoughts?" Daryl prompted, instantly gaining your attention. Your eyes trailed over to him and his heart skipped a beat at the smile you gave him.

"Just thinking," you responded nonchalantly, shaking your head in dismissal. You pushed away from the railing you were leaning over and turned your body fully to look at Daryl.

Daryl hummed softly, his eyes trailing over you before shifting back to look at the fences. "Ya wanna talk 'bout it?" He questioned.

"It's stupid."

"Ain't stupid if it's botherin' ya," he retorted, turning his body to fully face you as well.

You sighed before shaking your head. "It's just... I'm thinking about my mom. The last thing we did before all of this was fight over something stupid and now..." You trailed off, suddenly feeling awkward under the archer's stare.

"Ya think she didn't make it?" He finished for you, giving you a knowing look.

"I know she didn't make it. She was diagnosed with cancer about two weeks before all of this started, and there aren't exactly doctors around who could've helped her," you responded, awkwardly fidgeting with your fingers.

"'M sorry to hear tha'. This world jus' ain't meant for people with sicknesses like tha'," Daryl said, and mentally kicked himself for saying that. There you were, confiding in him over something serious and that's the best he could come up with? He felt like a perfect fool.

However, instead of being angry at him, you looked at him with a small smile, much to his surprise. "Yeah," you started. "I just hope that she didn't suffer. She was a good woman."

"Were ya close?" Daryl asked, his blue eyes meeting your beautiful ones. He hoped that he wasn't prying, but he wanted to know more about you, the woman who haunted his thoughts 24/7.

You nodded. "We were."

"Ya make a lot of good memories with her?"

You laughed lightly, surprising the archer. "What is this, 20 questions?"

Daryl frowned. "What?"

"20 questions," you repeated, noting that your repetition didn't spark recognition in the archer's eyes. "It's a game you play with your friends at parties, sleepovers, you name it. You all take turns asking each other any questions you want."

"Never heard of it," Daryl said, shrugging his shoulders. He felt awkward under your intense stare, your eyes widened with surprise.

You softly gasped in surprise. Then, an idea struck you. "Wait here."

"It's my shift," he stated matter-of-factly. "Ain't goin' nowhere until dawn."

"Perfect."

With one last look at Daryl, you climbed down from the guard tower, excitedly rushing into the cellblock and into your cell. You bent down in front of your bed and retrieved what you were looking for; a bottle of whiskey you found on a run. With a renewed excitement, you gripped the bottle tightly and headed back up to the guard tower, finding Daryl waiting patiently.

Daryl glanced at the bottle in your hand and looked at you questioningly. "Where'd ya find tha'?" He asked, watching you approach with a slight smile on his face. He could practically see your excitement, the big smile on your face infectious.

"On a run a couple of weeks ago. I've been waiting for the right moment to open it, and the right moment has now presented itself," you said, sitting cross-legged on the floor and motioning for Daryl to do the same.

"How so?" He questioned, following your lead by sitting down on the ground in front of you. He kept his eyes trailed on you, watching your every move.

"Well, I was gonna suggest we play 20 questions, but I don't wanna force you into answering a question you don't want to, so we're gonna play truth or drink instead. We ask questions back and forth, and if we don't wanna answer the question that was asked, we drink. It's as simple as that."

"And I dun' got any say in if I wanna play or not?" Daryl asked, a small, teasing smile on his face. His smile turned into something more genuine when you let out a light laugh.

"Nope!" You laughed, opening the bottle and placing it in between the two of you. "You wanna start?"

Daryl hesitated, pursing his lips. "I dun' know wha' to ask."

"Anything. There are no wrong questions," you reassured him, leaning back on the palm of your hands.

"Alrigh'," he drawled, unsure of himself. "Wha' was yer favourite movie before all of this?"

"There you go," you praised him with a smile, making Daryl duck his head as heat flushed his face. "To be honest, I don't really know. I watched a lot of movies, so I don't think I can narrow it down to one. But I have a couple of favourites. The Breakfast Club and Back to the Future are two of them."

Daryl nodded, absentmindedly chewing on his thumbnail. "Now 's yer turn, righ'?" He questioned.

"Yeah," you confirmed. After a couple of beats of silence, you voiced your question. "Who was your first kiss?"

Daryl shifted awkwardly, embarrassment filling his body. "I honestly dun' remember her name. It was some girl in a dive bar Merle used to drag me to. She was drunk and I was helpin' her to her car when she turned around and kissed me."

"How old were you?" You asked, genuinely interested. Daryl rarely talked about his past, so when he did, you ingrained every piece of what he said into your mind.

"Nah, 's my turn to ask the questions. Wait yer turn," he joked, eliciting a laugh from you.

"Touché, Dixon, touché. Ask away."

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip, a habit you noticed he unknowingly did whenever he was thinking. You found it absolutely endearing, but the more you thought about it, the more you realised that you found most things about the archer endearing. The way he fiddled with his bolts whenever he was bored, the way he flicked his hair out of his face with the shake of his head, his small smile—you could go on a rant about his smile, and you have before. Michonne happened to be the victim who was forced to listen to your lovesick rambling in the car on your way back from the same run you'd gotten the whiskey from.

Begrudgingly snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you patiently waited for Daryl to continue the game. Feeling your stare on him, he asked the first thing that popped to mind, and instantly wished he didn't.

"Who was yer first sex partner?"

A nervous laugh bubbled out of you, heat creeping up your cheeks at a rapid pace. Daryl felt his own face flush, feeling stupid for asking the question.

"Sorry. Ya dun' have to answer tha'," he apologised, his eyes darting to the floor.

"No, it's okay. Like I said, no wrong questions. Besides, if I don't answer, I have to drink," you said, trying to compose yourself. You took a deep breath. Of all the things you thought you'd be doing tonight, you didn't think you'd be discussing who your first intimate partner was with the guy you had feelings for. "My highschool boyfriend, senior year."

Daryl nodded and left it at that. He leaned back on his hands, watching you carefully. He was surprised that you'd actually answered the question, given the personal privacy boundaries he pushed. He silently promised himself that whatever personal question you asked him, he would answer.

"What's the most petty fight you've ever gotten into because of Merle?" you questioned, looking at him expectantly.

Daryl stayed quiet for a few moments, thinking hard about his answer. "It was with this one guy. He was Merle's dealer. He was a small, janky white guy. We were over at his house one day, jus' loungin' around and watchin' TV, some stupid kids show playin'. It was barely noon, we were all wasted and Merle was high. Merle decided to take a piss outta the show, and when he started, he wouldn't let up. He never could when he was high."

Daryl stopped for a moment, collecting his thoughts while your gaze remained fixated on him. You seemed genuinely interested in the story, your eyes sparkling with wonder. Your lips were slightly parted and it took everything in Daryl not to act on his urge to kiss your pretty lips.

"It turns out, the cartoon was the guy's favourite show, and he got hella pissed 'bout it. 'M pretty sure Merle didn't know it was the guy's favourite show. I mean, he never saw the guy except when he needed somethin', but tha' didn't matter. The guy punched Merle in the face, and tha's when I got into the fight. 'M on this guy and 'm punchin' him as hard as I can, but then the guy pulls a gun on me, sticks it righ' against my head and threatens to shoot me."

"Oh, god," you murmured, slightly horrified.

"Yeah," Daryl nodded, seemingly unfazed at your reaction. "Tha's when Merle pulls out his gun and points it at the guy. At this point, everyone's yellin', I'm yellin'... I thought I was gonna die tha' day."

"How'd you get out of it?" You asked, bringing your knees up to rest your head on them.

"I didn't. The guy ended up punchin' me in the gut and I puked on the floor. They both started laughin' at me and everythin' was magically over," Daryl said, shaking his head at the memory. "And to think that happened over some dumbass cartoon about a talkin' dog."

You visibly stiffened, and this caught Daryl's attention. "Wha'? Wha's wrong?"

"Talking dog..." You trailed off, your eyebrows furrowing. "Did the dog happen to be a Great Dane? And his owner was this guy in a green shirt and brown pants with messy hair?"

Daryl pursed his lips, thinking for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. There were other people, too. Two women and a guy with an ascot."

"Scooby Doo," you stated plainly, giving the archer a playful glare.

"Wha'?" He asked, confusion evident on his face.

"Scooby Doo," you repeated, waving your hand nonchalantly. "That's the cartoon you were talking about. The cartoon you called dumb."

"Yeah, 's 'cus it was. Can't believe anybody actually liked tha' crap."

"Daryl Dixon, how dare you?" You laughed, your eyes widened in surprise. "Scooby Doo is a national treasure! He was part of my childhood and now you're insulting him? I don't think we can be friends anymore."

Daryl chuckled at you, rolling his eyes at your theatrics. "From wha' I saw, the dog and his owner were cowards. Runnin' away, screamin', from fake ghosts after how many years of encounterin' them and knowin' tha' ghosts aren't real but they still think they are? It's stupid as shit, and I ain't apologising for thinkin' tha'."

"You're a disgrace!" You laughed, trying to sound angry but miserably failing. "You're telling me that, real or not, if a ghost was chasing you that you wouldn't run away?"

"Tha's righ'," he nodded, before gesturing to the walkers down at the fence. "I dun' run away from tha' shit, so I sure as hell wouldn't be runnin' away from fake ass ghosts."

"I can't believe you," you said, shaking your head in mock disappointment. "This is the worst betrayal ever. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget this. We won't be able to go back to being friends because of this. This is terrible."

"Stop," he laughed quietly, his eyes twinkling with a rare occurrence of merriment. "It ain't tha' deep. I jus' dun' like it."

"Clearly you don't like it because you have bad taste," you retorted playfully.

"Well, I like ya, so do I still have bad taste?"

Silence. It was so silent, you could hear a pin drop. Any trace of the former reverie between the two of you disappeared and was instead replaced with an invisible current of electricity between you. Your breath caught in your throat at the sudden revelation from the man, and your heart sped up in your chest. The logical part of your brain told you that he meant it platonically, that he liked you the way he liked Rick or Glenn, but the optimistic part convinced you that he didn't, that your feelings weren't one-sided. That the archer might like you too.

"Probably," you finally responded, feeling your face ablaze with the heat that spread across it.

"Nah, my taste is immaculate," he replied, looking at you carefully, closely monitoring your reactions. Daryl knew that was a risky response, and he was nervous about your reaction, but he hoped for the best.

You gulped nervously. Daryl's response made your stomach do somersaults and your heart pound at the speed of light.

"Yeah? I still think your taste is shit," you finally managed to respond, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. Sometimes you wondered if Daryl knew what effect he had on you. If he knew how many nights dreams of him plagued your mind.

Daryl's chuckle broke the tension between you, and you felt like you could breathe again.

"Whatever ya say." Daryl took the bottle from the middle and took the first swig since the game started. Your eyes drifted to the trickle of whiskey that spilt from the bottle and trickled down his lips and chin, and you had the sudden urge to lean forward and kiss the spill away.

"You don't like Scooby Doo. That automatically means that you have shitty taste," you retorted, your breathing slightly heavier than before.

You leaned forward to take the bottle from him, but he held it out of your reach. You looked at him in confusion but he simply smirked at you, getting up from his position on the ground to stand tall over you.

"Daryl," you warned, laughing as you got up as well. "It's my whiskey. Give it back."

"Nah, I think Imma hold on to it," he said playfully, holding the bottle above his head. He laughed at you when you jumped to try and grab it from his hands.

"Daryl!" You exclaimed with a laugh, trying everything to retrieve the bottle, but to no avail. "Come on, don't be so mean!"

"Ya said I had terrible taste. Well, I like this whiskey, so tha' means it must be terrible as well, since I like it, so ya probably won't like it," he responded playfully, his eyes alight with mischief.

One final jump to grab it proved to be the wrong move. You accidentally slipped when your feet hit the ground, sending you falling onto Daryl. The archer reacted swiftly, dropping the bottle to to catch you with both hands. The bottle shattered on the ground instantly while you and Daryl toppled onto the floor, the force from your fall catching him off guard. Daryl layed flat on his back with you on top of him, his hands still on your waist from when he tried to steady you before you fell.

You looked into Daryl's ocean coloured eyes and felt your heart speed up. Daryl's eyes darted to your lips for a second before going back to your eyes, but you had caught him. In a sudden burst of confidence, you lowered your face and crashed your lips onto his, catching him off guard for the second time that night.

Daryl stiffened for a moment, surprised at the unexpected action from you, but soon relaxed and slowly kissed you back. He brought one of his hands to the back of your head and drew you closer, his lips slowly moving against yours. His other hand hesitantly trailed from your waist to the small of your back, gently moving over the exposed skin from the ride up of your shirt.

The kiss ended too prematurely for your taste, but oxygen was still a necessity. You slowly pulled back, looking into his eyes with surprise and delight. Daryl looked back at you in adoration.

"Wha' was tha' fer?" He whispered breathlessly, his chest heaving slightly.

"Just because," you replied honestly, still baffled at the fact that you had just kissed Daryl, surprised that you had mustered up the courage to do so in a matter of seconds.

"Well, if ya think tha's gonna prove to me tha' my taste is shit, then yer gonna need to try somethin' different. Tha' didn't work. If anythin', it jus' proved to me tha' my taste is amazin'."

You laughed and shook your head. "You talking about me or Scooby Doo?"

Daryl started sitting up, making you slide down his stomach to sit in his lap. "Definitely ya," he responded, wrapping his arms around you.

"So, you like like me, huh, Dixon?" You teased, linking your arms around his neck.

Daryl hummed and gave you a small smirk. "Mhm," he hummed, giving you a soft peck on the lips. "Wish I'd known tha' talkin' shit 'bout some cartoon dog would make this happen. Woulda done it a lot sooner."

"Don't you ever talk shit about that dog in my presence ever again," you warned with a playful glare, eliciting a chuckle from the archer.

"Jus' to be sure, this means somethin', righ'?" He asked, his tone turning serious. A look of doubt spread across his face. "This wasn't jus' a heat of the moment thing for ya?"

You shook your head, bringing one of your hands to cup his cheek. "Did you mean it? That you like me? And I don't mean in a platonic way."

"I did," he confirmed, leaning into your touch.

"That's good," you said with a small, shy smile. "Because I like you too. Even if you have crappy taste."

Daryl's eyes filled with relief and he let out a small laugh before leaning in to kiss you again. The kiss was brief, but it was sweet and tender. When he pulled away, he brought a hand up to push your hair out of your face.

"Never thought this would happen. I thought ya dun' like me like tha'."

You leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "No more of that. I don't plan on letting you go now that I have you, Daryl Dixon. You're stuck with me."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah, 'm stuck." With that, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours in a feverish kiss. He flipped you over so that you were on your back, making you giggle against his lips.

You were definitely thankful for Scooby Doo and that whiskey bottle right now.

[norristri]

landoscar fic recommendation

this wld be a full ao3 fic recos :D anw message me if u want your fic to be removed here thnx

that one from work can come over on monday night by higgsbosonblues 

tags: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Slow Burn, Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication, Coming Out

mclaren 2023 season canon compliant ; i really really love the getting to know part even though you know each other all through out the years hahaha this fic gives me the "all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?" :DD this was such a fan read to me as a new landoscar shipper that time <33

purring in my lap ('cause he loves me) by nyoomfruits

tags: cat!oscar, as in he shapeshifts into a cat lmao, Crack Treated Seriously, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication

oscat !! OSCAT !! OSCAT !! lando's "Over me? When the fuck were you even under me?" he's so so so funny and oblivious lmao and them being each other's comfort after a bad race :(( this was so adorable

#814 | Communication? The Kardigans | Long Gone | 4:18 by Anonymous

tags: Social Media, Implied/Referenced Sex, Lando I Don't Drink Norris Can't Hold His Alcohol Smh, Layout Is Entirely Social Media, Getting Together

i love LOVE social media format aus!!! so soo refreshing and creative the use of spotify playlist was GOLD and idk if it's a reference of gen z's and their spotify playlist for every situation but but!!!! i get it!! the name changes in every convo hahahaha they r so chaotic but at the same time so landoscar

from the start by tiredwishes

tags: modern setting, fluff, love confessions, getting together

this had me hooked so easily??? like i was just scrolling through the landoscar tag then i refreshed the page boom there's a new fic posted :DD the awkwardness, the ODDS!!!!!! i love how it has the dynamics of canon!landoscar :>> of them having the same people around them then boom they collided and the ending was perfect aaaaaa <33

for keeps by ipleadbritney

tags: spy au, fluff, light...angst? happy ending

read this after death and other lies bcos i can't move on LMAO took me a while to digest and it was honestly so good!! the humor was fantastic I DID NOT EXPECT EVERYTHING ABT LANDO landoscar

no proof, not much (but you saw enough) by ipleadbritney

tags: magical realism, pre-relationship, qatar GP '23

LOL THIS WAS SO FUN TO READ ??? lando's dramatic ass and him comparing themselves to BROCEDES ++ i like that it's magical realism but at the same time canon hehe :DD "He spent the majority of his junior years chasing after Lando Norris, a dream blisteringly quick and blinding in its brilliance." this line reminds me of, "Loving you is synonymous to breathing" :)

Death and Other Lies by finifugue

tags: spies & secret agents, mature, angst, hurt, comfort, happy ending

i love LOVE the world-building & everything!! prolly in my top 3 landoscar fics <33 the lando-charles siblings relationship had me SOBBING ;-;; “The things that we have lost were wonderful when we had them, do you not think? And that means they are not properly gone. And even if they are gone forever, that means that I can spend more time being sad in here, with you. And that is nice in its own way. We have not had a reason to go here for a long time, and it is more cramped than it was, but it is still good.” :) the twists, the turns, everything !!!!!! my friends were probably annoyed at me because i talked abt this fic ALOT lol i usually don't like spy aus bcos i don't like actions that much lmao but this??? THIS IS A MASTERPIECE sorry i cannot put how much i love this fic into words hashjdhasdjhsa BUT YOU GUYS SHLD READ THIS!!!!

scenes from a social media admin by ipleadbritney tags: social media admin!lando, driver!oscar, social media au, getting together

ipleadbritney your existence in this fandom is EVERYTHING !!!! lando's list of things.... lando's list of things he finds hot :>> this fic made me smile the whole day, hehehe :))

sink your teeth into me by nyoomfruits tags: vampire!oscar, werewolf!lando, soulmates, racing drivers

LANDO was so fcking oblivious *face palms* the travel coffin was my fave part hehe ok oscar is so vampire coded dhsjadhajshdas “Lando’s own driver’s room is right across the hall, stocked with his own hoodies and sweatpants, but those don’t smell like lemon and home, so he wisely keeps quiet and accepts the ones Oscar gives him.” :)) :)) I LOVE THEM maxiel tolerating lando's dumb ass HWJHAJS SO ENTERTAINING

note: will be updated !!!!!

[alohaasaloevera]

guys I’m honestly happy that klance didn’t become canon because I love how as a collective group of people we utilize our right to explore what could have been and create the most smoking hot scenarios ever and yes I obviously wanted more of their friendship growing into this bond stronger than anything else in the universe especially since Voltron has teamwork and family as one of their main lessons but that’s more of a development issue all around…ok besides that there’s something about klance where it provides this PERFECT environment for shippers to inhabit and FEAST upon. With klance, there’s a solid, engaging dynamic between the two set up, which is this weird one-sided rivalry that stems from Lance’s insecurity and his need to prove himself of his worth and Keith literally being one of the best pilots for his age but since they’re flung into space and chosen to become child soldiers in this 10,000 year old intergalactic war so they have to work as a team which surprise surprise forces them to put aside their differences and work as a team which is shown a bunch when Keith needs to become a leader and Lance steps up as his right hand and and they have some kinda tender moments that won’t definitely drive shippers into a shipping craze (or worse) SO YEAH you could see why people loved it with all the classic tropes and mutual growth all that schmooze (ALSO THEY KNEW EACHOTHER BEFORE THE MAIN PLOT??? Well maybe not like friends or even acquaintances probably BUT HELLO?????? EVEN MORE SHIT TO EXPAND ON????), and they share multiple scenes that could be interpreted as romantic but there’s no explicit romance. This environment is fucking dripping drenched flash flooded cornered by 1000ft tsunamis in all directions with potential for shipping, so when people saw this relationship between two bros with this sort of homoerotic (IM JOKING. Kinda.) unresolved tension towards each other and the POTENTIAL for a good slow burn rivals to friends to lovers, it was to no one’s surprise that they went APESHIT. Klancers made countless different ways where they get together whether it be pre-Kerberos, post-gettingthefuckoutofearth, the start of the show, the end of the show, after the end of the show, right smack in the middle, anywhere, anytime, for who the fuck knows why just ANY REASON DAMN IT it doesn’t really matter because people were pumping out fanfiction or fan art or any fan media of klance faster than I spit out a raw baby carrot after chewing it for one second and now we’re all wallowing about how it should have been KICK but the thing is that if VLD did KICK all the way to Altea, the production of these beautiful stories that so many people have and still are coming up with about klance kissing in midst of a battle, helping each other with their crippling nightmares, smiling for the stars or some other sad premise, and whatever is nestled in his pulse…just like uhhh the amount of fics like these that go into great detail about Keith and Lance in these random situations that end up with them getting together being produced would go down to some degree because of the fact that if the people’s beloved sharpshooter and samurai had ended up together like we had wanted, and the majority was satisfied with the ending the creators had given, people would have shifted from writing about “How could Lance and Keith get together?” to writing about “What could Lance and Keith do now that they’re together?” And like. There’s nothing wrong with that honestly I would be HYPED if klance was ever canon but there is profound beauty in the way the community is able to create more from less and turn a show that went to shit in the last few seasons shine even brighter than it did at its prime. Like I wouldn’t trade my favorite fics 4 anything.

—

Ok another little thing I’m going to put here: With Klance, all I wanted was for them to be great friends 😭😭😭. I tend to prefer klance becoming canon in later seasons or at the end or even an open ending with no confirmed romantic relationships because I am a sucker for character development and the idea of Keith and Lance both harboring these feelings that at first are just admiration and respect but then escalate to yearning for one another or becoming close friends at the end of the show and getting to imagine anything I want post canon is EVERYTHING if you give me S7 Garrison klance I’ll keel over and thank you like I was a second away from dying of thirst and your gift was a truck load of water

[educatedsimps]

— Suna drabble (he shouldn't be this hot)

≪ back to fics masterlist

a/n: Good morning, people! It's nearly half past midnight but my brain is currently overrun with thoughts of the one and only Suna Rintaro so watch me simp here 😏 -Jo, 6 June 2024

This was all because of that Ishikawa reel you saw on instagram omggg

firstly, we only see Suna in season 4 but he's made such a huge impression on us because...

He's the silent hot boy type

You notice his obsession to film the most interesting/funny things e.g. whenever the Miya twins fight etc imo that's just him being observant and trying to capture memories so like, if he was your boyfriend/husband, he'd definitely make time and effort to capture special moments with you

His flashbacks when Kita steps onto the court just demonstrate that he's someone who tries to find shortcuts (when possible) to complete his tasks (lazy hot?? but also not quite??) The fact is that even if he doesn't find an easier way out, he still continues to press on to finish whatever task is at hand

Sometime in S4, Ukai Junior says that Suna's one of the shortest middle blockers but that he's super effective in both his blocking and spiking strategies because because BECAUSE HIS CORE MUSCLES ARE WELL BUILT ASQWDEFGSEFRGHD YES, HE HAS ABS. AND I'M POSITIVELY CERTAIN THAT THEY'RE ROCK HARD OKAY (fictional characters making me go feral?? Y E S) also WHAT EVEN HE'S OVER 1.85 METRES TALL PRE-TIMESKIP GUESS WHAT - HE'S 1.91 METRES TALL POST-TIMESKIP QWFEGWQDTFYGH

all in all, mister Suna enchants me because he's observant, he would make me tremble and shiver in real life if he simply glances at me At the same time, you kinda end up fantasising about this mysterious guy who sorta keeps to himself (compared to the twins cuz they're just loud LOL) You would want to know more about this guy albeit discreetly because you wouldn't want him to think that you're a creepy weirdo stalker. If he's managing Inarizaki's volleyball team account, he's definitely gonna post some funny-arse stuff about the twins too I guess that's it for my simp post!! it's like simping for Meian Shugo all over again AND THIS MAN HAS THE AUDACITY TO NOT EVEN BE ANIMATED YET AAAAAAAAA

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarize any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[readychilledwine]

A Burden To Carry

Villain's Week - Day 2 - Weakness

Summary - He had given her everything, loved her through all her ages, just to have one fight tear his whole world down

Warnings - abuse, infidelity, twisted family situations, love from an abuser's mind

A/n - Happy @sjmvillainweek day 2! For weakness, I decided to do something I've gotten a lot asks about: Lyria and Beron pre him learning she is Helion's daughter and not his. I firmly believe Beron would be a sucker for a daughter in a twisted sense and in a healing sense. If you have not joined Lyria's world, she is my Vanserra OC who put her magic into healing through touch, mainly massage therapy. She is, per Vanserra sister oc Tradition, mated to Azriel. If you are into different forms of poly relationships, acts of service, and smut, peep her masterlist. Otherwise, I did set this to where it can be read alone 💕

I have a pattern this week of drabble and longer fics just due to planning so much content. This is today's drabble.

✨️Lyria’s World✨️

🗡Villain's Week Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡

Beron had never known love like what he felt for his daughter as she bounced over to him. Her hair was in soft curls, her smile bright. Beron held love for so few things, but Lyria? Lyria was his light.

She was a small thing at the tender age of 6, still so curious about how the world worked, how how night became day, where the river went if it left to lands where she could not follow. He picked her up, holding her slightly above him before settling her on his lap.

“Daddy, if the leaves here are red, why are the leaves at Tamtam’s flowers?”

“Different seasons, my love.”

Lyria glared at the simplicity of his answer, “I think Tamtam's leaves are wrong.”

He could only chuckled at her standing with her in his arms, “And how do you suggest we fix them?” Beron had a running list of Lyria’s ideas and mis-speakings. From demanding her crown be more spark-y to stating she felt the solution to court disagreements was a slumber party where she'd play guard and smack high Lord's with her feathered pillow if they were being mean, he cherished that list. Cherished her.

“We take them from him,” she glared, her little voice far too innocent to realize she was implying going to war over trees being different. “Oh! Look what I can do!”

Lyria held her little hand to him, a fire coming to life on her palm.

A fire that looked far too much like a sun spark. Not like a raging hearth.

The image of her small display of magic haunted Beron as they ate that night. 4 sons. 1 daughter. 3 empty chairs.

He would be a fool to pretend the son that sat on one of those chairs was ever his. The skin tanned too easily in the sun, the hair in tighter curls and a deeper shade of red than he had ever seen. The eyes a slightly darker shade than predicted.

Lucien was never Beron's but Beron had played the part until the embarrassment could no longer be ignored. Since that fateful night, Beron had been under the impression his wife, the wife he thought he loved so much, wanted to have another child as an olive branch, an apology.

Now as he looked at that little girl, so glued to Eris's every word, he felt that same rage simmering deep within him.

“Daddy,” a little voice cut him from the thoughts he was having, “can I go play with Eris's puppies tonight?”

“Hounds,” Eris sighed, slightly annoyed. “They are hounds, sister.”

“No,” the answer made the whole table pause. Lyria had never heard no in her short life. “You were already out playing past curfew and conned me into skipping lessons today. You will go to bed early.”

Seeing her soft pout, her eyes watering, it broke his heart. It broke him as he continued looking at her, truly looking at her. Nothing physically indicated she was not his. She was the carbon copy of her mother. Same nose, same eyes, same chin.

Lyria's 16th birthday came in a flash of light and Beron kept his growing suspicious to himself as she sat at the vanity being forced to look the part he truly didn't know if she should have been given. In the past several years, he'd passed her off to Eris. Sighting her brother needing to be more involved with her as the reason. Beron loved her, he loved her more than he'd ever allow anyone to know, but he was not blind to the possibility that somehow she was not his.

“Daddy?”

“Lyria,” he tried to show no emotion in his voice as she stood, the red velvet dress hugging her torso before going to a full skirt, “stunning.” He moved to her, hand on her cheek. “Do you remember the rules?”

She nodded as she nuzzled into the rare contact from her father. A handmaiden forced her head straight, adding a simple tiara in, “No dancing with one suitor for too long. Honor each high lord with their own dance. Keep near Eris and his partner.”

“And,” he gripped her chin lightly.

“No running off with anyone. Male or female. I am to maintain my image.”

He nodded, satisfied, “Who is your first dance?”

“Eris, in place of you, to allow you to continue taking bids for my hand.”

The rules were simple as a hand went to her lower back, escorting her out the dressing room doors and into the hallway where the royal family stood waiting. Lyria was their star tonight. The red velvet dress had a straight neckline with stones leading to long sleeves. They, too, had been adorned with a rotation of diamonds in various sized.

Beron had spared no expense on this gown, not 100% thrilled it was different from traditional fashion, but her face as she had tried it on made it worth it. Eris quickly made the corset slightly tighter before looking her over and adjusting a few pieces of hair. “Aren't you just perfect,” her oldest brother murmured. “Excellent choice in gown father. Suitors will be aching to dance with her.”

His wife was the only one who seemed uncomfortable, “She is 16.” Her voice was soft in Beron's ear. “Perhaps we could wait and present her when-”

“She's of courting age,” Beron cut sharply the room falling silent like it had all those years ago when he first told Lyria no. “Her duty to is provide us with an alliance and grandchildren. She is my daughter. I see this as fit.”

Beron watched from his throne as Lyria charmed her way through every High Lord. She had glanced at him while dancing with Rhysand, a code they'd made to silently indicate when she'd found interest in a male. “Rumor has it that he likes them young,” Eris said bored. “Helion will be next, in place of his father. Prepare yourself, High Lord.” The exchange from Rhysand to Helion killed off that last shred of doubt in Beron's mind.

Where Helion touched Lyria. Lyria's skill faintly began to glow.

The same as it had when Helion's filthy hands touched Lucien.

Beron looked at his wife, what little gentleness he held gone, “Is she mine?” The question had his sons leaving the dais, suddenly very interested in several females in the room. “Is. She. Mine.”

All Lyria could hear from her room that night was screaming and fighting. Eris laid next her, whispering in her ear that none of this was her fault, that she was loved. He kept her behind him as Beron stormed into her room, trying to protect her.

The signs of what happened showed on Lyria's face, her body. Beron would not outright end her life, but there were times in the following years where he made her wish he had. Beron had hoped his love for her would die off, but by her 18th birthday, it was still there.

The affair was quiet, only suitors from Autumn, only males Beron deemed barely worthy. The light that burned so brightly in Lyria had died, diminished by her father as the last pieces of light in him died as well.

They say the best way to kill off a weakness is to stop caring about it.

And Beron, as he looked at the red haired girl going through the motions as she danced herself into exhaustion, realized he would never stop caring. No matter how much he wished he would.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[soongtypehuman]

Boo-hoo update

I’m sorry to say I have an update I was hoping to not ever have to make. Some of you already know that I have some serious health issues, but I've been pretty quiet about the extent of what I'm dealing with.

The gist of it is that I have a rare bone disease called fibrous dysplasia that turned certain bones in my skull into tumors and then those tumors grew inward and started crushing my brain, so I had a craniotomy last year to remove as much as was safe and got a cool new titanium implant in my head to replace the removed bone/tumor. The unfortunate result was encephalomalacia, which is the end stage of liquifying necrosis, and now part of my brain is liquid instead of solid (it’s dead, in a nutshell). Most people don’t survive encephalomalacia, much less remain able to function, and most who survive the initial stage don’t survive the three year mark. Even when you do survive it, it often continues spreading. The last MRI showed it had already taken over about 1/3 of my brain. But I’m a stubborn asshole and am still hanging on.

Unfortunately, things aren’t getting better.

I have to have constant MRIs, EEGs, physical and cognitive therapies, and have been on more meds than I’d like to be in order to control seizures and various cognitive issues. I didn’t mention this before, but I had to go through a series of speech therapies just to learn to talk properly again. And the most unfortunate part of this is that my ability to write has been affected. Since the surgery over a year ago, I’ve only made 10 new posts in the Positronic Rivalry series, totaling around 87k words. For reference, I posted over 200k words in 2022. I’ve posted even less this year, and it’s not improving.

With that said, I have to take a step back. I’m not quitting and I’m not walking away from the fandom. I’d like to think I’ll still be able to post here and there. I just don’t know when and under what circumstances that will happen. I most certainly can’t handle the longer multi-chapter fics I once could. Maybe one day, but not this day. Since I started posting on AO3 back at the end of 2021, I’ve posted every Sunday more often than not. I’m sorry to say I can’t make that happen right now, and can’t say when I’ll post again or what it will be. I won't be able to continue with season 4.

But I’m most definitely not leaving the fandom and the people and the characters I love so much. I’ll still be here interacting and posting when I’m able. This fandom and the people in it are incredible and mean a lot to me. Data and Lore and Star Trek in general are integral to my life and general enjoyment.

But!! I’ve nearly completed compiling seasons 1-3 of Positronic Rivalry as well as 2022/23 Kinktobers into files that will be ready to print in physical book format (completely free, obviously), which I’ll make available for everyone to download in various print sizes, complete with covers, which you can then have printed at various POD sites if you’re so inclined. Digital versions will also be available (you can already download various formats from AO3, but they’re not compiled into seasons, don’t have covers, etc.).

I’m also continuing with the Trek-themed crossword puzzles because those are fun and my therapist thinks making them is good for my cognitive rehab.

This update is a massive bummer for me, but I felt it was better to just admit my limitations instead of constantly trying to convince myself that I could continue the way I had been pre-surgery and beating myself up when I couldn’t.

Lastly, I’ve finally taken the suggestion I’ve gotten repeatedly and set up a KoFi. If you’d like to buy me a coffee or toss a coin to your android porn witcher, you can do so right here and I’d be giggling and kicking my feet in gratitude.

Anyhow, I want to thank all of you for being amazing and coming along on this ride with me for as long as you have, and for as long as it might continue in whatever form it takes.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Throwback Rec!

Helloooooooo!

I've mentioned this when I first started the blog, but unlike with my previous rec blogs, there was quite a long period of time between the time when I started reading buddie fics and when I started this blog (live, five-ish months). Consequently, there's a lot of fics I've read during that period that I've never recced! So I thought I'd try to do a "Throwback" rec once in a while to rec these fics. Enjoy!

this must be the place by euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Shooting | 75K | Teen): Every life altering event is often led up to with a series of other important events. In this case, there were at least three: An unstoppable fire. An afternoon spent underneath a blanket of California blue sky. But firstly, and maybe the most important of all: There was the impeccable aiming of an ex-sharpshooter. *** Or, the Buck is also shot by the sniper AU that no one asked for.

🔥 Benign Fatality by EtoileGarden/ @etoilegarden (Time Loop AU, Season 2-4 | 23K | Teen): Buck repeats days until he doesn't die in them, has an underdeveloped sense of self worth, and Eddie is the one who wants to step in with him.

must be some kind of twist, I could get used to this by soyxunxperdedor/ @messyhairdiaz (Post-S4, Accidental Marriage | 38K | Explicit): He doesn’t remember much from last night, even less after the fourth or fifth tequila shot. So he certainly doesn’t remember bringing someone back to his room. He steels himself for the lancing pain and cracks his eyes open. Oh. Oh no. This is either really bad or… Well, not really good, but just. Not really bad, and that’s probably all Buck can ask for it to be. Because Eddie is in his bed, Eddie’s arm is wrapped around his waist, Eddie’s legs are tangled with his. And he has no idea why.

🔥 in the night we trust by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (Canon Divergent, Pre-S4 | 29K | Explicit): Eddie and Buck start sleeping together when they're all stuck at Buck's place during lockdown. It still takes them almost three years to notice that they're in love.

🔥 Didn't think you meant it by EtoileGarden/ @etoilegarden (Friends to Fiancés to Lovers, Post-S5 | 33K | Explicit): “I want - I want to get to - to have some sort of - of promise that I’m… loved. And. And worthy. And that I get to always go to bed knowing I’m - I’m fully, like, mentally, physically, legally committed to this person who - who’ll always have my back, who’ll always - always be there when I need them. But I guess,” Buck shook his head. “I guess I’m starting to really - really believe that maybe I’m not actually built for that. For - for someone actually wanting to commit to me, to marry me. So I - I think seeing the wedding today just kinda cemented in my brain that no one would want to marry me.”  “I’d marry you,” Eddie said, patted his knee. 

🔥 standing on the brink of emptiness by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (Post-Shooting | 71K | Mature): In which Eddie is struggling in the aftermath of being shot, learning how to take care of himself and realising he's in love with Buck; and Buck is dating Taylor, taking care of Eddie and Christopher and trying to figure out why he's so goddamn confused about everything.

🔥 Muscle Memory by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Amnesia AU | 40K | Teen): After a disappointment in his personal life, Buck wakes up one morning to find everyone he loves has forgotten him completely. No memories. No recognition. Almost like he was never really there.

oh, my dream (never quite as it seems) by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (S6, Friends with Benefits | 44K | Explicit): In which Buck and Eddie are trying out a friends-with-benefits thing (that's rapidly turning into more) when the world comes crashing down on them. As Buck hovers somewhere between life and death, Eddie has to deal with their friends, family and the Buckley parents.

It’s Not the Roaring Dream, It’s the Silent Lightning by giselleslash (Coma AU | 15K | Mature): Buck gets struck by lightning and wakes up in another life where he has everything he’s ever wanted, but soon that life starts to crumble around him and the painful pull back into reality nearly breaks his heart. (or the one where Buck is married to Eddie in a coma dream and he doesn’t want to let the dream go.)

found a park bench for a throne by withoutthetiger / @rewritetheending (Post-S6 | 23K | Teen): Set in S7, when Buck goes back to therapy and Eddie is there to comfort him after each session, much like Buck did for him in 5x14. They're friends, of course, but Eddie can only soothe Buck for so long before it becomes impossible to deny that they're also so much more.

I love the way you spoil me, baby by rosebuddiekin/ @giddyupbuck (Sugar Daddy Buck AU | 33K | Explicit): Buck is a sugar daddy who wants to spoil Eddie rotten and take care of everything for him. Eddie has never had that sort of relationship but is willing to give it a try. There is plenty of adventure along the way.

🔥 In the Gray You are Golden by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Zombie Apocalypse AU | 26K | Explicit): When the world fell apart, Eddie did his best to keep his son safe. But now winter's coming on, their supplies are dwindling, and Christopher needs medical attention, so Eddie takes the chance to move them across the country to the west coast, where the rumored 118 Safezone takes in all survivors. Buck's proud to be a member of the 118's search and rescue teams, but he can't shake the conviction that his lost sister is still alive in the wasteland. When he sneaks out to find her, he runs into Eddie and Chris instead, and vows to get them to the 118 safely. But the wasteland has many ways of tearing people apart, and the undead are just one trick up its sleeve...

🔥 you and me by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (S6 Fix-It | 55K | Mature): An alternate ending to Season 6, where Buck realises that what he's been searching for has been right in front of him the whole time.

🔥 The Education of Eddie Diaz by mansikka (Pre-S4, Friends With Benefits | 32K | Explicit): Eddie doesn't really know how it happened. One moment the 118 are drunk in a bar after a hard shift, confessions slipping from his mouth as he playfully kisses Buck on the cheek. The next he is on Buck's couch, taking up Buck's offer of an education that could be asking for trouble. But it's just sex, and they're just friends; it doesn't mean anything to either of them. So why is his time alone with Buck the highlight of his week?

🔥 i see you in my sheets (i see you in my sleep) by elless (Post-S6A, Friends with Benefits | 25K | Explicit): Buck and Eddie are FWB, act like boyfriends, and are suuuuper dumb and oblivious about everything.

🔥 a bleeding sun on a silver screen by rarakiplin (gmontys)/ @hoediaz (Actors AU, Friends With Benefits | 130K | Mature): One day, Buck will tell an interviewer that he would be happy to make movies with Eddie Diaz until the day he dies. But first, years before that, he sees Eddie for the first time on the set of Chimney’s fifth movie.

handle me with care by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (Canon to S6E9, Getting Together | 42K | Mature): In which Eddie tries dating again, and slowly comes to terms with his feelings for Buck.

Your Kiss Might Kill Me (So Won't You Kill Me) by morganofthefairies (PWP, BDSM | 9K | Explicit): Buck hadn’t been a virgin by the time he’d hit Peru – not even close. He still considered Peru a critical point in his sexual history, though, because Peru had brought him Fiona, and he was pretty sure he could credit her with like 80% of his sexual knowledge. None of that was the point, though. The point was that, six years later, when Eddie called for the jaws to get to a woman pinned in her car while responding to an 8-car pileup, and absentmindedly called him a good boy as Buck handed them over, he had a totally normal reaction to it.

[cbrownjc]

hi! i had some questions for you as someone who only got into iwtv post season 1 of the show starting to air. i read from some of your other posts that you've been a fan since the 90s, and you mentioned how DM fans were disappointed post TVA. so i was wondering, what was the fandom like back then? did people mostly write about the chase/human!daniel era, or did people ever try to write fanfics that continued their story with them still together as vampires despite what anne rice decided on? i know what the trends were like on ao3 (i got obsessed with DM before season 1 even finished airing, i read the books that fast) but i was wondering if it looked different at all back then (pre-ao3). secondly, i was also wondering if most people ignored the "no sex" element of canon and included sex scenes in their fanworks, or if most of the work you saw was more at the canon level of erotica/blood drinking level? it's okay if you don't really remember, i'm just curious about fandom trends. the tidbit about the "boss" thing being fanon since the 90s despite it only being said once was very amusing to me (i noticed that myself haha)

Hello! Sorry for just getting to your question today, real-life things, and all that. 🙂

So, from what I remember from back then, (from the mid-90s to the early 2000s), at least from when fanfic was still not banned yet (😉) is that when it came to Devil's Minion, fanfic did have a mix of people writing things were Daniel was still human and people speculating on what Daniel and Armand's relationship was like after Queen of the Damned and Daniel had been turned. But I would say the Devil's Minion era -- when Daniel was still human -- was much more focused on a bit more since, at that point, there were only four books out, and not too much time had passed between book 3 and book 4. And because the Devil's Minion Era lasted 12 years in total there were at least more situations and ideas that were easier to get ideas to write about.

When it came to post-Daniel being turned, before The Vampire Armand came out, there just wasn't much of anything to go on. So it really was just speculation galore on that front, but there wasn't all that much to solidly speculate on.

At least until Armand seemingly killed himself at the end of Memnoch the Devil. Then I remember a lot of angsty Daniel-focus stories during that time after that happened. Or, angry fix-it fic because there was a very vocal group who kept arguing that Armand killing himself over what he did was just wildly OOC in the first place.

As to the "no sex" thing, there were some who very strictly followed it and those who, IIRC, would put a disclaimer at the start of stories stating that the characters would have physical sex in the story. Stories that had physical sex scenes between characters still tended to have the character still do blood drinking too, however.

In remembering things from back then, however, I'd say more people leaned into the "no sex" thing more than they did the characters having physical sex . . . even after The Vampire Armand book came out. Because even with the things that happened of a sexual nature in that book, there was a hot debate about if what went on between Armand and Marius, and Armand/Marius/Bianca really counted as sex or not. And most people fell on the "it wasn't sex" side of things about all of that.

In fact, I remember a long email chain post in my mailing list after that book came out arguing about this and someone even adding it to the FAQ for the mailing list that no, it did NOT count as sex because as a vampire, Marius wouldn't have/didn't get aroused or use his genitalia during the moment between himself and Armand in the bath; and then again with Bianca neither Armand nor Marius could have gotten aroused in that way because they were vampires, despite Bianca getting pleasure during that encounter because she was still human at the time; so it didn't matter that Marius used his finger on her and whatever, vampires still couldn't have sex.

No there were not a lot of human AU stories back then, not even to get around the "no sex" thing wrt canon back then either. People either stuck to the blood-drinking as erotic or, again, put disclaimers at the start to say the characters were having physical sex. That was it.

[fazedlight]

I think a lot about how my experience of watching Supergirl is different from those who saw the show as it was airing.

I blazed through the entire show in a few weeks, and knew in advance that Kara and Lena had a big fallout. And going through at that pace... the Rift made itself central in my mind in many ways. (If you read my fics, you've probably noticed 🤣.)

Then I got encouragement to write my Archaeologist AU, and I thought... why not. I started writing.

But my brain started frizzing out. I was so embedded in the Rift that I had a hard time imagining a Lena before her various betrayals (Andrea, Rhea, Eve, Kara, etc). What does Lena look like when she's trusting and optimistic? She's still cynical, but she's hopeful too...

So I paused on that to write my Lena character study. In part because I had these notes about her time at MIT that seemed fun, but it was also critically necessary to finishing the archaeology AU. Because Lena wasn't always the hurt and closed-off person that she became in season 5. (That fic didn't get a lot of attention, and I didn't expect it to - but it really helped me internalize a softer Lena.)

And now it feels full circle in a way, in that I'm writing a real AU (unlike the archaeology one, my Aviation AU has a human Kara). The character study and the other AU were sort of a bridge.

I think a lot of people got to spend more time with the more trusting, optimistic Lena of season 2 than I did. I'm guessing that Lena's villain era wasn't even the expectation when people watched the ups and downs of the pre-Rift in season 3 and 4.

It's just interesting to think about, how I'm circling back to an earlier Lena, when I think it's the Lena that most of the fandom internalized for a very long time.

[chevvsgotanumbrellatattoo]

I haven't even seen the full season, but from Tumblr alone (yall are troopers), I am devastated. Even my shitty fic from 2020 made more sense than this shit (before you ask, no I will not sharing /gen /nm. My writing pre-4-years-of-creative-writing-classes was AWFUL)

Also, the true ending was revealed to me last night in a dream:

Viktor owns and runs his bar. Sissy is alive and well. The two of them and Harlan (kid aged, like S2) live on a farm and go to the record store every Saturday. Mr. Pickles comes along each time. Harlan has no powers.

Ben was never in jail bc crypto currency can't exist when the best phone tech is a rotary phone??? Anyway, he goes to art school, hones his craft, and makes up with the family by inviting them to his first art show. He visits Klaus on Mondays for lunch.

Five works at the CIA. He truly loves solving big puzzles, he learned that from the Commission. After work, he comes home to human!Delores and helps her cook supper. They talk about science and how Five's boss keeps telling him to pick up a new hobby for stress relief. Delores smiles over her glass of wine and suggests picking his guitar back up.

Klaus lives in a 2 bedroom apartment with Dave. His OCD and anxiety is still rampant, but with Dave's support, he gets on meds (which Dave holds onto and administers for him since pills make him nervous) and gets a handle on it. He and Dave have movie nights every Friday and talk about tarot. Dave makes the best menudo Klaus has ever had.

Allison lives happily with Claire and Ray. She learns to manage her guilt and anger, apologizing at length to the family and vowing to herself to be a better person. Claire needs a better role model than the person she'd been. Ray and Allison take Claire for picnics with the at least one of the Uncles once a month. Claire looks forward to it every time.

Diego and Lila are happy. They have their 3 little nuggets and love them to pieces. Diego learns that his father-in-law has a friend at the archery range in the next town over. He drives over with him one day and decides to pick up knives again. It takes a long time to make peace with the fact that his aim will never be marigold-perfect, but Diego is entirely happy with his progress.

Lila is ELATED to have her parents. She talks to them daily and plays Twister with little Grace and the twins while her Mom and Dad take turns spinning the Twister wheel. She goes to the gym to scratch the itch of adventure she sometimes finds herself needing and talks to Diego when something is bothering her. Diego does the same. They call it 'Thick-Headed Therapy Thursdays' and they get ice cream afterwards.

Luther lives in a lovely house with Sloane. He studies space and cooking at the local college and helps Sloane kickstart her fashion designs (based off when she made her KILLER wedding dress in like,, no time at all). They have a small dog named Moon-Moon McGee. Sloane keeps her moon-rock wedding ring safe in a small box in her nightstand.

Grace works at a daycare and is the favorite of kids and grownups alike. She visits Diego and Lila on Sundays and makes little Grace and her siblings pancakes and chocolate milk for breakfast (Lila and Diego partake in this as well).

Pogo works at the library. He prides himself on neat bookshelves and loves when people ask him for help. He calls everyone "Master," "Miss," or even "Mx." and asks politely for preference and pronouns before doing so.

None of them have their powers.

Reginald Hargreeves still has a heart attack and kaputs. Abigail never bothers the Brellies.

The family all make it to little Grace's birthday party. The piñata breaks when she hits it. The cake is gone within an hour. Little Grace and Harlan are damn near inseparable. She makes Mr. Pickles hats for the holidays, much to Harlan's delight.

Case in point, they're all so happy and love each other! They each go to therapy and work out their own issues and don't take it out on each other!! The kids love all their aunts and uncles!! Everyone wins!! (Except Reggie bc FUCK YOU).

[jade-of-mourning]

Here is an unwarranted post on some (mostly) Mako fics that I’ve really enjoyed if anyone is mildly interested:

Gen

No Church In The Wild [https://archiveofourown.org/works/458765] - Mako & Bolin, pre-canon; on being young while living on the streets

Separation [https://archiveofourown.org/works/25229557] - Mako & Bolin, shortly pre-canon; the aftermath of a targeted attack from the Triads

burned, about to burn, still on fire [https://archiveofourown.org/works/29173200] - Mako-centric, canon-compliant post-season 3; reflective introspection in a world that doesn't stop

he’ll never keep diaries [https://archiveofourown.org/works/4451897] - Mako-centric, post-canon; thoughts on Naoki

Dirty Fire [https://archiveofourown.org/works/35241340] - Mako-centric, spanning pre-canon through post-canon; on firebending and family

Midnight Confessional [https://archiveofourown.org/works/2229444] - Krew, canon-compliant; a game of never have I ever, with accidental feelings

(Growth) [https://www.tumblr.com/ourimpavidheroine/134586165521/mako-appreciation-week-day-six-growth] - Mako & Lin Beifong, canon-compliant; on presentation and perception

A Bearable Bruise on Your Conscience [https://archiveofourown.org/works/26101444/] - Mako & Bolin; living in the pro-bending arena

brightly beating heart [https://steinbecks.tumblr.com/post/119345939589/at-the-end-of-the-alley / https://steinbecks.tumblr.com/post/123179915684/brightly-beating-heart], Mako-centric, between season 3/4, incomplete; the mirage of a life he'd like to live

Sacrifices [https://archiveofourown.org/works/12385137] - Mako & Bolin, pre-canon; on coming from earth and fire

One Foot on the Ground [https://m.fanfiction.net/s/7998132/1/One-Foot-on-the-Ground] - The Fire Ferrets, canon-compliant; learning to build trust at the very start

a dandelion wish [https://www.tumblr.com/moonlightingfic/158981838482/a-dandelion-wish] - Mako-centric; chasing Naoki

Sparks [https://archiveofourown.org/works/24868129] - Mako & Bolin, post-canon; searching the Fire Nation for their mother’s family

Fics with ships

(I'm personally a big fan of aroace Mako but I will read mostly anything to be honest. I like Korrasami a lot but I also really like Makorra in the right context, shoot me :P)

Acquired [https://archiveofourown.org/works/452166] - Krew & Korra's family, background Makorra, season 1 canon-compliant; relearning what it means to be loved by family

Chasing Serendipity [https://archiveofourown.org/works/1213507] - Asami-centric, Korrasami flavor, heavy canon divergence, second person pov; in which Avatar Korra comes from the streets

One Step, Two Steps [https://archiveofourown.org/works/374940] - Korra-centric, mildly Makorra, canon compliant; lessons with Tenzin

Mako and the Terrible, Awful, No-Good, Very Bad Road Trip [https://archiveofourown.org/works/26505814] - Wuko, canon divergence; a comedy of all time, with a plot summarized by the title

beach daze [https://archiveofourown.org/works/2354858] - Makorra, modern AU; the summer in which Korra is a lifeguard

Six Degrees [https://archiveofourown.org/works/3857545] - Makorra, modern AU, second person POV; in which Mako works a plethora of random jobs Korra keeps encountering him at

Shen [https://archiveofourown.org/works/30126897] - Makorrasami, post-canon; casual child acquisition and detective work

(anyway all of these have particularly fantastic voicing from the author and their executions are kind of peak — definitely the sort of shit that i envy whenever i get around to my hella scrappy writing projects. 100% rec all of them and i have many many more stuffed in my saved if any of them you'd like more of that same flavor.)

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

You’ve got a Deegan headcanon post in the works?👀 helloo heaven

Edward Deegan is hands-down my absolute favorite, lesser discussed ghoul. I wanna climb that big manservant motherfucker like a tree, and I'm so bummed that you can't recruit him as a companion after you finish the storyline he's involved in. If y'all like him as much as I do and you haven't read the Deegan fics on AO3 written by user Iron_Angel, you're missing out big time! They definitely see eye-to-eye with me in terms of how that man would be characterized if he was utilized more.

Edward Deegan (Fallout 4) NSFW Headcanons

Massive slut. Bisexual. Smooth. Some ghouls spend decades, centuries with no intimate contact, too depressed about their circumstances or self-conscious about their bodies to put themselves out there. Not the case with Edward; this man is hot-to-trot and not very discerning about where he sticks his dick, frankly. If the vibe is right in the moment, he's down, and it's gotten him into some very interesting situations before. He enjoys the company (as well as the validation that he's still at least somewhat attractive) and he's always had a pretty high sex drive. Plus, working for the Cabot family for so long ensures he's always dealing with some kind of nonsense that necessitates a lot of stress relief during his off-hours. The number one piece of advice he would give literally anyone is "Don't fuck crazy"; he would also follow that up with a clarifying "Do as I say, not as I do."

110% fucked his way through the entirety of Cabot house. He and Wilhelmina had a one-time fling when he was a young man, before he even became a ghoul, but both of them would vehemently deny anything like that ever happening if you brought it up. He and Imogen always had an antagonistic relationship, but during the rare seasons they were getting along well enough they'd be (hate) fucking on every single surface in the house. The person he had the closest thing to a real relationship with was Jack; the two were quite close, and slept together off and on throughout the years, but ultimately Edward understood him well enough to know that Jack Cabot was too interested in himself and his work to ever really be a good partner to anyone. Edward does want to settle down with someone, ultimately, but he doesn't want to settle, and he has the time to spare to wait for the right person, doesn't he?

BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN. Dude is hung and not afraid to show it off (see number one). Definitely more of a "show-er" than a "grow-er", but hey, you're probably not gonna be all that disappointed when a soft 6.5" turns into a hard 7". Pretty large, low-hanging balls. Loves having them played with; put your mouth on them and he's basically in love with you already. Cums a ton, of course, but also cums with a lot of force; careful if you're stroking him off! Protect your eyes!

Ass man, very into anal. Even if you're too intimidated by the size of him to let him actually fuck you in the ass, he'll beg you to let him shove his tongue/his fingers/a plug in instead. About half the time he clocks giving head is actually eating ass. Likes to bite your glutes and the upper part of your thigh to hear you squeal and loves covering your ass in hickeys/bruises.

Big, big domestic kink that cuts both ways. He's spent a lot of his long life taking care of others, so it very much comes second nature to him when caring for a partner. His taste buds may be warped by time and his condition, but he's still a fairly impressive chef, and he's very thoughtful when it comes to doing things around the house that help you out/make things easier for you. You'll really be in good with him if you show a penchant for the same sort of thoughtful behavior, and he'll be ready to bend you over the kitchen counter if he finds out you can cook.

He's got a breeding kink he'd rather not discuss (unless you get a little booze in him and get him alone). Grew up in a big Catholic family pre-war, so the possible origins of the kink weird him out to think about, but that doesn't stop his brain from churning out thoughts about how he should knock you up when he's getting close to finishing. Will definitely gaslight you about it a little bit. No, he did not make you beg him to cum inside you last night; you just get so crazy when you're close that you start begging for it, and what's he supposed to do, tell you no? It's your fault, anyway, for being so attractive and, uh…breedable.

Very playful once you get close to him; he likes horseplay and he enjoys sort of wrestling around, especially because it's an easy way to initiate a little physical contact between him and whoever he's interested in. Also a good way to flex his strength a bit, which has always been an easy way for him to impress. He's also a bit of a bully when he's in the right mood, and it isn't difficult to goad him into being a mean dom if that's what you're looking for.

[air--so--sweet]

TUA Season 4 Spoilers

Not trying to be a conspiracy theorist but it feels like some of Klaus' story was cut or changed in post or else rewritten and reshot. And I think that plot was was about Dave or at least his dog tags.

At Sy's dry cleaners, when he presents the box of alternative timeline objects Diego goes through it and hands items to Viktor and Ben. No one else grabs any items except Klaus who runs over the box excitedly and goes straight for one item - dog tags.

I wasn't able to read these (which feels like a mistake, wouldn't you want them legible in close up to hammer the point home?), but I think it's safe to assume these are Dave's dog tags, especially considering how Klaus interacts with them the rest of the scene (did my best to crop these so you can see him a bit better without totally murdering the quality).

Which really confused me because Klaus was wearing his dog tags at the end of season 3 right? And then I went back and looked at the scene and realised Klaus is wearing something on a chain but at no point do we see what it is because whatever is on the end of the chain is tucked into his shirt. And yes his dog tags are tucked into his shirt at other points in the season but it always just looks like they slipped into the shirt as he moved around, as they're often off to the side or at an angle...

...and even at times switching between inside his shirt, outside of his shirt and then inside it again within one scene (which is not a criticism, it's just the nature of having multiple takes and multiple angles, it can lead to inconsistencies)...

...whereas in the final scene of season 3 they're perfectly placed, hanging straight down and remain inside his shirt the entire time, even when he bends down.

So then I thought oh, it must be intentional. What he's wearing isn't his dog tags, Reginald rebooting the universe clearly erased what happened with Dave. We're going to get a scene something like the scene below from Ain't No Place (To Call Home) by Hara_Kiri.

(Sidenote: Very much recommend this fic, don't love how it ends, but don't still love the majority of the fic and it's a better ending then what we officially got tbh, also dont know if the author has a tumblr but happy to tag them if they do)

But then that never happens and the dog tags are just never seen or mentioned again. But then why have the scene of him finding them in the box? When he should have already had them? And then he still doesn't wear them?

But what really makes me think part of Klaus' story was cut, was the birthday promo video we got on October 1st last year. The cast are all in costume and it says 'previously recorded' because it was released during the SAG strikes, so it was likely filmed on set either between takes or at the end of a day, with the cast just in whatever costume they were in that day. And Klaus is in clothes we see him wear in the season....with all of his tattoos, except the Umbrella, clearly visible.

But then we never see him get his tattoos back in the show??? And this can't just be an error, there's no way a make up artist would accidentally apply four whole tattoos, and then Robert Sheehan wouldn't question it, and no one else on cast or crew would pick it up as a mistake. Like even if this was for some reason actually filmed separately to the show, he starts the season without his tattoos, there's no reason for them to forget that when they come to post the promo. Which suggests there was more to his plot with him somehow regaining his pre reboot body, but it didn't make it into the show.

[steviewashere]

Words to Keep Us Moving (Chapter 1 of 6)

Rating: Mature CW: Implied/Referenced Non-Canon Character Death, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Animal Death—CANNOT EMPHASIZE THAT ONE ENOUGH, A DOG LITERALLY DIES HEED CAREFULLY Tags: Canon Divergence, Post-Season 4, Apocalypse AU, Vecna Apocalypse, Eddie Munson Lives, Steve Harrington Character Study, 5+1 Things, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Journal Entires, Amputee Steve Harrington, Disabled Steve Harrington, Worried Eddie Munson, Protective Eddie Munson, Protective Steve Harrington, Stubborn Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Getting Together, Steve Harrington Takes Care of Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Other Tags to be Added

This is a 5+1 fic, but only the first chapter so far. Five journal entries during the apocalypse/moments during the apocalypse, and one entry after the apocalypse. Please heed all content warnings, I am begging you.

Also on AO3 (because this is wicked long for a first chapter)

📝———————📝 The First Journal Entry: April 16th, 1986

I don’t know what I’m doing with this. I’m not much for writing. Fuck, I couldn’t even write an essay for my senior paper. Nancy had to coach me through eighty percent of it. But I’ll go insane if I don’t speak. And I’m being careful with my voice for now. Those demogorgon things are blind, but aware. They can sense the heat of our bodies, the sounds of our movement, the smell of our fear and our blood.

Many people I’ve had to rescue have ultimately faded into nothing. They scream and they cry and they shake. They get too close, they stray too far. They reek of sweat. Even though I tried to get them away, to get them back towards the safe houses, they weren’t savable. I tried, though. Believe me, please, I tried.

Hawkins may not be salvageable. I don’t think this town is meant for saving. We try anyway. There’s the safe houses, like I mentioned. One bordering the exit sign, that’s where they put the women and children. They being the feds, by the way. Didn’t make that clear, should do that by now. Anyway. There’s the safe house across from old Forest Hills; the victims from the sinkhole crevice tearing through the trailer park go there. And then the final safe house is Hawkins High.

Some of our group is between Hopper’s cabin and my house. Everybody is safe there. Eddie’s no longer in hiding, but he still sleeps down the hall from me. Max is out of the hospital, her old bed now taken up by an elderly woman; the woman will probably die—a demogorgon got her with its claws—and Max is with El. The Wheelers are with their parents in the exit sign safe house, same with Henderson and his mom, the Sinclairs are there, too, and Mrs. Hargrove. Jon and Will are here with Hopper, El, Max, and Joyce. I wish we could take Max back to her mother, but she’s under constant supervision—El believes her newfound blindness is connected to Vecna. Wayne is no longer at the high school, he’s been forcefully relocated to old Forest Hills, but he’s welcome around here any time. Robin’s with her parents at the high school; that’s where Vickie is, so that’s where she’ll be.

I haven’t seen my parents since before the earthquake. They were out of town on a business trip. Mom went with Dad because she still doesn’t trust him alone. They called me the day Dustin brought me along to find Eddie. Told me they were on their way home, were driving back from the airport. I can hear back the message on the answering machine, as long as I keep the generator up and running.

Mom told me she loves me in it.

I can’t help but think that they should’ve been back by now. I’ve checked with the soldiers on the edge, see if they saw a black Lincoln come through. Told me no. Told me they found remains of a car; a black car. I stopped checking after that. Couldn’t stomach the meaning behind that.

Our town is in ruin. I’m not alone, I have to remind myself. I’ll go out on monster hunting duty tonight, first time on my own. We’ll see how that goes.

I have to go, I can hear Eddie rousing. Time to check his wounds. Make sure he has his dose of antibiotics. See if he needs Tylenol; opioid free now…yay!

———— Steve closes the soft leather cover of his journal. He found it among the rubble of the bookstore in town. He’d been advised by Hopper to start writing because apparently his low morale “affects the monster hunting” and if he didn’t get it under control, he’d be reassigned to radio duty. Where Eddie is now.

Speaking of, Steve stands from his cramped desk and walks the short distance to the first guest bedroom on his floor. Knocks gently on the wood and enters without any other preamble.

Sitting in the spare desk is Eddie, hair ruffled and clothes messily strewn across his body. He spares Steve a glance over his shoulder. The bandage on his cheek is beginning to peel and Steve knows it’ll be a bitch to change; he always feels bad when he has to rip it off, it tugs at the raw skin and the little bit of facial hair Eddie’s still able to grow. Remembers, though, the joke Eddie had made about his situation: “Look, I’m freaking Two-Face from the comics! Think he grows half a beard, too?” He had to bite his tongue. Almost reprimanded the poor guy.

He blinks and Eddie’s still staring at him.

“How’s it goin’, Stevie?” Eddie murmurs. His voice has taken on an even deeper rasp than before. The demobats had taken a liking to his chest and the base of his throat, but Steve had been able to keep those wounds from being life ending. “You were pretty quiet in there.”

“Well, you know we have to be somewhat quiet,” Steve mock-whispers, “thought I’d use the…solitude to focus on getting in a journal entry.”

Eddie hums. “Glad you’re getting started on that. Don’t wanna be removed from surveying duty, yeah? You’d be stuck in here with dear old me. And let me tell you, sitting around and checking the stations is booorrring.”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, well, this is where you remain until you’re healed.” He steps further into the bedroom, clicking the door closed softly behind him. Settles on the guest bed on the right of the desk. Roams his eyes around the walls. “I’m doing alright, though. A little nervous if I’m being honest. About going out there alone. What if I don’t hear—“

“They’re letting you go out there alone?” Eddie squawks. “They should be sending out one of those adults, not you! You’re just a kid, Steve.”

Taken aback, not one to usually be concerned about, Steve crosses his arms over his chest and scoffs.

“It’s not like I have anything else waiting back for me, right?” Steve bites. “It’s my duty and I plan on going through and taking care of said duty. And if something happens, I’ll radio back. You’ll hear me. Someone’ll come running. I’ll be fine.”

Eddie eyes him for a moment. His big, brown eyes impossibly wider. A little wet. His face is pinched, frowning. There’s a moment where he opens his mouth to protest something Steve said, hesitating strongly, but he literally bites his tongue. Croaks, “And if you don’t radio?”

“I’ll radio,” Steve insists.

“Will you? Because the last time you were on duty and that happened—“ He waves a hand at Steve’s missing left wrist. “—You didn’t say anything until you got back. You’re fucking lucky Claudia was over here with Dustin. Else you wouldn’t have any sort of nurse or doctor available to sew you back—“

“I’ll be fine,” he harshly interrupts. He sighs, drops his arms, and swallows hard. Then, he blinks and looks back, leans into Eddie’s space. Brings a tentative hand to trace the edge of his facial bandage. “Have your hands been shaking?”

“Don’t switch the conversation—“

“Have your hands been shaking?” Steve repeats firmer.

Eddie sighs through his nose. Sharp. Annoyed. “Yes, Steve, but I can do this on my own. You don’t need to—“

“Just let me change it before I go, okay? Give me a little peace of mind before I head out.” He pets his hand down to the underside of Eddie’s jaw, to the side of his neck. His pulse welcomingly slow.

Their eyes lock. Eddie’s concerned, too much for Steve’s liking.

Though, finally, “Okay,” Eddie murmurs, “but you have to promise that you’ll be careful, you’ll be safe.”

“Eddie, I already—“

“Promise, Steve. You have to keep your head on your shoulders. You have to report to us if you’re in danger. You have to come back.”

“I will,” Steve promises, whispers immediately, “I will from here on out.”

And with that, Eddie opens one of the desk drawers, pulls out a package of gauze and bandage, and offers it out for Steve to take. He leaves the room briefly to wash his hands, returning with damp fingers. It was a quick, yet intimate procedure. Peeling away the wrappers. Laying down the gauze—right after a cleaning. Taping it all down, sticking it to Eddie’s sensitive, raw skin.

When he pulls back, finished, Steve’s stomach jumps with a new level of unease.

It was done. He could go.

He has to go.

“Jacket,” Eddie murmurs, his hands holding out for Steve’s. He takes them, of course he does. Voice still low, he continues, “Don’t make the mistake I did. Stay safe.”

Steve squeezes Eddie’s hands, nods, and stands from the bed.

He looks back at Eddie before leaving the bedroom, but not without a steel ball weighing low in his stomach. There is a wildfire in Eddie’s eyes. And the beginnings of burns along Steve’s ribcage. He knows, whatever is going to happen, that his promise wasn’t just words.

It was a testament.

A confession.

He descends the staircase, grabs his jacket by the front door, zips it all the way up to the base of his neck, and leaves with his baseball bat and car keys.

———— The two way radio is heavy on his front left pocket. Sagging down the waistband of his jeans. There’s an empty chunk of his jacket sleeve that dangles down and rustles against it, he stops all movement to tie it up.

He was assigned to the scrapyard. Hopper’s orders.

Oddly enough, it was the only location in Hawkins to have very rare activity. Despite the history he shares with the place. But he knows what to do. There’s a jerry can of gasoline and a bottle of vodka in his trunk, a packet of matches in his jacket, and the weight of his splintering baseball bat in his grip. He’s silent as he walks through the bits and pieces of junk. Carefully dragging his feet over the loose soil, cautious about accidentally kicking a chunk of metal.

It’s so quiet, he can hear the wheeze of his breath. As he takes another step, standing parallel to 1984, there’s a sound that echoes through the breeze. A singular pained whimper. At first, he believes it to be a figment of his imagination. Nobody else should be out here. There’s cracks in the ground and fiery red sky oozing through the trees. A shimmer of early evening light and a plume of wind-wild smoke.

He hears it again, though.

This time, however, it’s followed by the rumble of a low growl. Unlike the chittering of a demo-creature. This sound belongs to something like a domesticated animal.

A dog, he recognizes, A dog.

Before he follows the sound, he turns back to where he discreetly parked his car: behind the concave of that rusted bus. Wriggles with the trunk until it just barely creeks above his head. Snatches up the vodka and the gasoline, tucks his baseball bat into his left armpit, and he shuffles back towards the source of the noise, the dog.

It follows out to some various, tumbleweed-esque bushes. He hides behind the nearest junk car, eyes narrowed above the hood. It’s a brown, thin-skinned, almost just bones puppy. Probably around six months or so. A mutt—some sort of lab mix. The eyes are wide, teary, dark brown, and frightened.

The dog cowers against a bush. And right in front of it is a small pack of demodogs. Three of them. Wide mouthed and snarling. There’s large globs of saliva leaking from its lower jaw, or what would be a lower jaw to a human. They’re not very big, roughly around the same size of this puppy, but they are muscular, leathery, and hungry.

He’s not sure what exactly his game plan is. But he knows he has to do something before this dog is consumed for all it is—all it isn’t.

Around him, he spots an empty, glass bottle. As quietly as he can, eyes pointed at the hard soil under his feet, he lays out his equipment. Sits down with his legs straight out in front of him. Ears alert for the dog—whimpers raising in volume, growling trailing off into an absolute nothingness. He sets the bottle upright onto the ground, squeezed together by his knees. Bites down on the twist cap of the vodka, rips it off with his teeth, and shakily pours the contents into the glass. Though, he realizes he doesn’t have a rag to put in the bottle’s opening.

Being careful once more, Steve fidgets with the tied wrist of his jacket. And begins, quietly on top of the whimpers, to tear away at the fabric. Until, finally, he’s got a scrap to stuff limply into the bottle. He wets the sleeve with a bit of the vodka. Then, he lights a singular match.

He places the wood end of the match between his lips, stands from behind the car with the bottle in his one hand, lights the jacket sleeve. And with as much force as he can, he chucks the glass at the demodogs.

It’s fast to occur. The dry bushes go up in bright orange flames. Red sky becoming one with the glow. From the barely interrupted silence, screeches and chittering and snarling erupt. The fire dances in the dog’s eyes. Demodogs melting, dropping to the side, falling silent and smoking.

Steve spots it, then. The wound on the dog’s gaunt side. Fresh blood, crusted brown stains around the edge of this bite, entire chunks of skin and muscle gone.

He realizes, when the silence surrounds him again sans the crackle of going out flames, that it was all no use. There was no point. It couldn’t be saved. He drops his arms to his sides. And watches the flames die out right in front of his eyes. The dry grass now brittle and black. The dog just as brittle, near death.

A glance around shows no other demo-creature. Hastily, he crosses to the bushels, yet slowly, he approaches the fading, cowering puppy. Crouches to be on the same level.

Clicking his tongue and snapping his fingers, he calls out. “C’mere, baby,” he coos, “c’mere, puppy.” However, it’s too weak to move. Too weak to run. So it just stares at him. Wide brown eyes and puzzled absent eyebrows. Fast, rattling breaths through its nose—ones that come from an organ deep exhaustion.

Startlingly, it reminds him of Eddie. He nearly throws up at the realization. Instead, however, he finishes his approach and settles close to the dog’s head. Gently, he lifts it into his criss-cross lap. The dog barely weighs anything between his legs. Its eyes drooping, exhausted. Its fur is greasy, and the skin dry under his good hand. But he doesn’t mind. All he does is comfort it, pet the curve of its skull, thumbs at the base of its ears, traces the wet edges of its nose. The only sound it makes is a gentle, giving-in wheeze of breath.

And as Steve runs his hand one more time over its skull, the dog passes on.

A quiet, ordinary thing. Its eyes going far. Chest caving with its last breath. Not another sound. Not another movement. An ordinary death with an ugly, unusual circumstance.

His lap pools with warm blood. It’ll congeal, stain, never rid. But he doesn’t care, for once. Instead, he lifts the dog over his shoulder, stands on trembling legs, and finds an unoccupied, untainted spot of grass. He lays the dog down into the overgrown weeds. And digs, uncoordinated and sloppy, into the oddly warm, consistently dry dirt. The soil gives way in clumps. Chunks of it getting stuck underneath his fingernails. Palm collecting the dirt into each of the fine lines of his palm.

It’s not a great hole. Only about a foot deep—too shallow. But he rolls the dog into the well he created. Closes its eyes with his one hand. And covers the body back up. Resting, now, on his dirtied knees in the aftermath of destruction. The smell of burnt flesh and dead grass filling his nostrils. Looking around at the scenery: scraps of rusted metal, yellow weeds, demo-corpses, and an ashen circle where rotting meat lays.

He’s not sure how long he sits there. How long he lays his palm over the textured mound of dirt in front of him. How long he grieves a dog he had no connection to. But when he gets up, dusk is settling in. And he figures, with no other activity and nothing else to look out for, he’ll head back.

He grabs the two way from his pocket. Switches to Eddie’s channel. Presses down on the talk button. Speaks low and nasally, “This is Steve. Report to Chief that there were three demodogs. None of them were fully grown; all small, hungry, bloodthirsty. I lit them up. Over.”

“Hear you, Steve. Report on supplies? Over.”

“Half of a bottle of vodka. Gasoline can full. I have a full pack of matches, except for one. But I think it would be a good idea if we collected empty glass bottles and rags. Over.”

The radio reads silent for a lull of two minutes.

Eddie speaks again, softly,“Come home. Over and out.”

———— His front door was already unlocked by the time Steve came through.

It should’ve startled him, really, it should’ve. Though, with the flash of that dog behind his eyelids and the odd fatigue that overcame his limbs, he barely even cared. But the lights throughout the first floor were dim. And the noise of the radio in Eddie’s room floated down the stairs like an early autumn breeze. It was almost sweet, when he eventually came across Eddie in the kitchen, but his stomach was nearing sour.

“I made dinner,” Eddie murmurs as a greeting. He’s standing at the stove, back towards Steve. “The rations that Wayne dropped off earlier had some stale bread and a jar of minced garlic. Thought I’d just make some shitty garlic bread with whatever spaghetti stuff I found in your pantry.” He looks up from the stovetop, then. His hair is sitting atop his head in a barely neat bun, but it’s enough. And he has Steve’s mom’s apron tied around him—covering a plain black t-shirt and a pair of red basketball shorts Steve had loaned him at the start of his stay. Eddie’s eyes widen when he takes Steve in, though.

There are no more words. Eddie’s mouth is open, dried up. And Steve doesn’t know if he can speak—not without tears, at least.

Finally, ever observant, Eddie gestures loosely to Steve’s clothes. “You’re sleeve…you’re pants…”

Steve has to swallow harshly. His right hand is clenched tight to his thigh, and if he still had the other one, he’s sure it would shake noticeably. But he stays rigid to the entryway. Thinking long of the dog. Of its last expression.

Of Eddie’s expression now.

He figures it odd, to be so hung up on this mutt’s face. The haunting that places itself in the small spaces between his ribs. Every single time he’s involved himself with these day-to-day nightmares, he hardly ever considered mortality. Unless it leant itself in the face of everybody else, in which he constantly and greatly considered life or death. In which he knew that it would be him under the knife; never one of the kids, never Nancy or Robin, not Eddie now, not even Jonathan. There were also several moments where he blearily considered morality—the hard set lines of its face and the ugly snarl to its lips. He always thought of himself last in these things, almost like he was repenting—if he put himself in the shoes of his younger self, starchy clothes, and a thick youth’s bible in his hands. Bad things mean bad results, he always considered.

But the dog had no common understanding of morality, let alone mortality. It probably dragged its heels when being pulled along its leash, being led somewhere it never wanted to go. It probably had a family who adored it to the moon and back. It probably was told it was good every minute of its sheltered life, fed dog bones, held close in the darkest point of evenings, and scratched soundly and contentedly between its ears.

And on top of that, he can’t stop ruminating over the striking resemblance the puppy held to Eddie’s own tired, desperate, dying face. His big button eyes and the blood across his body. The open wounds and the dried tears on his cheeks. There are two questions in his hands: Had the dog considered running away, or did it know that the demodogs was its fate? If so, did it die selflessly, or did it die to escape something greater?

He wonders if Eddie answered those questions before facing the demobats.

Eddie’s in his kitchen though, wooden spoon at his side, trembling to take a step forward.

At last, Steve croaks, “I buried a dog today.” He unfurls his fist and reaches out his shaking, dirty hand.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes.

“It—The demodogs were hunting it, Eds. I…I had to save it. I had to save the dog. I don’t know why, but I just…I had to. I set them on fire,” he explains, loose lipped and tumbling, “even when the fire died, the dog was still scared. I came close to it. And it wouldn’t run. I wanted it to run away. I wanted it to get to safety, but I noticed while the demodogs literally—“ Steve inhales, a hiccup, a gasp. “—A huge gaping bite on its left side. I could see its ribs. I could see where the blood began to dry up. So I put it in my lap. I pet it. It died.”

The spoon is settled softly on the granite counter behind Eddie. He approaches Steve slowly. Arms out, fingers spread wide. Steps into Steve’s orbit, but lays his palms on his shoulders, the trembling aching joints. Eddie’s thumbs begin working away at the tension. Before he can say anything, Steve speaks again.

“I buried it as far down as I could dig. And I just sat there, unsure of what to do.” His eyes burn and his throat stings. He shakes in his rigidness. So Eddie leads them to the dining area, settles Steve into a chair, leaves momentarily, and approaches again, now with a warm, wet rag in his hands.

Steve’s dirtied palm sits skyward in his lap. Eddie picks it up deftly, running the soft, worn side of the rag over his palm. The water probably won’t do all it needs to, the tap was apple juice colored, pipes having burst or flooded with sewer in the earthquake. They should use a ration of bottled water, but that would be a waste, Steve considers. So he lets Eddie work. Silently, gently.

He does it methodically. Working harder in the fine lines of Steve’s palm. Digging the cloth into the underside of each fingernail. Going by with another pass, crumbling the stubborn clumps. His breath deepens, sighing through his work. “I’m sorry you had to do that, Steve,” Eddie breathes. “Somebody should’ve been there—“

“The dog made me think of you,” Steve chokes out. He swallows back a pained whimper. Eddie halts all his movements and looks up startled. His wide eyes not scared, but too similar. “How you looked when…I just couldn’t leave it there to die.” And at that, Steve finally lets the tears spill over. He doesn’t make a sound, biting down on his tongue to make himself as silent as possible. But he shakes from shoulders to knees. Sipping air through his nose.

Steadfastly, Eddie maneuvers them so that Steve is burrowed deep into his chest, right ear over Eddie’s heart, nose smushed underneath his clavicle. Eddie strokes a hand down his back, wraps another around Steve’s forearm, above his absent wrist. Shushes him with whispers; the syrupy soft ones, the ones meant to soothe, but otherwise a babble of nothing. Of “You’re okay,” and “I’m okay,” and “You did okay.”

It works, eventually. Steve wrung out. Eddie shaken to his core.

They pull back from each other. The rag is run softly over the tear tracks on Steve’s face, cutting through a sheen of light dirt he didn’t know was there. Eddie murmurs, close to Steve’s tendered eyes and chewed lips, “Eat some dinner, okay? I’m going to put a call over the radio. And when I come back down, I’ll clean up and we’ll lay in your bed, alright?” Steve minutely nods and lets Eddie get him some food, mourning the touch he gave almost immediately.

And when Eddie’s upstairs, he hears, drifted from the opening of the guest room, “No more putting Steve on duty alone. That’s final. Over and out.”

The chattering static of the radio cuts out after that. Steve realizes he meant what he said. They’ll go to bed. Bodies close. Warmer, ever warmer.

But that dog will still be dead and buried.

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