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hangmanbrainrot · 2 years ago

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stranger from the bar

a/n: this is an incredibly late submission to @callsign-phoenix's 1k celebration. thank you for your patience, lovely. <3

warnings: 18+ content, this is mostly just... smut, there's an extensive list of tags on the ao3 page but there's some big emphasis on a rank kink here, exhibitionism, unprotected penetrative sex, lots of swearing, and alcohol mention.

word count: 3.1k

summary: in which you and jake do something a little different after a night out.

pairing: jake seresin x reader

“Jake, Jake, Jake,” you panted against his lips, palms shoving feebly against his chest. “Jake, wait. Are we sure this is a good idea?”

You sat back slightly in your position on his lap, to take in his expression. Your gaze darted between his kiss swollen, lipgloss smeared lips and the depth of the green in his eyes. They looked almost grey in the low light of the parking lot.

“We stopped making good decisions after your third gin and tonic, I’m just pointing that out. But I’d never do anything you weren’t comfortable with, darlin’,” he hummed lowly, brows furrowed as his palms smoothed up and down the length of your goosebump covered thighs. Your hips pitched forward, rolling against his almost involuntarily, and you couldn’t tell if it was the sudden rush of desire flooding back to the surface or the chill in the air that made you shiver. Your shirt laid discarded in the passenger seat where you were once seated.

You looked back to Jake again. All traces of artifice were gone. There was no facade, no arrogance found in his expression. Instead, a strand of blond hair had fallen from its position in his perfect coif, and it curled lazily toward the top of his forehead. You ran your fingers through the sandy colored locks almost on impulse, and the moan you earned in response when you gave the strands a slight tug surprised you. Definitely filing that one away for later. Your mind — and his — was slipping in and out of your agreed upon charade so quickly. It was hard to pretend the man before you was a stranger, when part of the reason why you craved him so deeply was because of the plain and unashamed intimacy between you. You looked at him with a quirked brow, but before you could remark on your discovery, he cut you off with an utterance of your name.

“So what's it gonna be?” He asked, voice low and husky. He shifted beneath you, and every delicious inch of him pressed into you, right where you needed him most, even with his pants between you — a move that was no doubt deliberate. Your lips returned to his, aggressive with need. His fingers snaked up into your hair, angling you where he wanted you — where he needed you. Jake was so deceptively confident that sometimes it was hard to imagine he’d ever needed another person in his life, but then every time he got his hands on you, he was like a man starved. His tongue was deft, first swiping along the seam of your lips, then parting them like a man depraved. With your knees bracketing his thighs, you didn’t have much space, but it was enough to work with to grind yourself down shamelessly against his denim-clad thigh. He could no doubt feel the wet heat of your core, every time you rutted down against the coarse material once more. It was relief, it was something. The body of your skirt flared around your thighs, but you’d ditched your underwear long ago, so your arousal threatened to soak his pant leg beneath you if you weren’t careful.

“Jake,” you repeated in a shaky exhale, moving like a person possessed, with your head thrown back. You couldn’t stop the near incessant motion of your hips if you tried, desperate for friction, desperate for him, especially as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples. He had you tightrope walking that line between pleasure and pain, tongue laving over the skin his teeth had grazed just seconds earlier.

“You keep saying my name like that, I don’t know if I’ll even get you out of that pretty little skirt before we’re making a mess,” he said the words like a promise, whispered against the warmth of your flushed skin as he kissed his way up your chest.

So suddenly it almost hurt, Jake retracted and righted himself to look up at you, as if he realized something, and you whined in response — impulsively, instinctively. But you caught his eyes, and you understood. One of his hands raised to cup your face and the gold of his wedding band caught the light in the process. The pad of his thumb brushed softly along your skin, so softly you were almost ashamed of the way you were still writhing in his lap. Almost. He tapped your cheek three times in a row, and you instantly came back to yourself. This was a check-in. This was your husband.

“Color?” you asked as you went still in his lap.

“No, I’m green, so, so very green,” he said gently, almost shy, even as a chuckle bubbled up out of him. “But you didn’t answer me, and you said wait before, but I realized I didn’t wait, then you said my name so I felt bad and wanted to be sure.”

Oh, this man loved you. He loved you, loved you. And you knew it, of course, but feeling it right now in the soft, gentle cadence of his words, in the way he was studying you for even the slightest change in mood or disposition? It had you clenching around nothing, needy as your hands fisted in the fabric of the plain black t-shirt he wore. You used your newfound hold on him to all but yank him flush against your bare chest.

“Honey,” your lips pressed softly to the hollow behind his ear, delicate, as you murmured, “I am so sorry I worried you, but I am so fucking green.”

Sitting back again, you took in your husband, your hands reaching up to frame his face as you explained, “I only said wait because I was, uh, getting into it, you know?”

More realization washed over his expression and even in the barely there moonlight, you knew his face was red — more because of your knowledge of your Jake, than your reliance on your eyes.

“You called me Jake. Twice.” He was practically pouting as he repeated the fact. You’d broken character. The feigned anonymity was, admittedly, part of what made your designed ruse so fucking attractive.

“Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again, Lieutenant.”

Just like that, your husband was gone, and in his place sat Lieutenant Seresin.

“I know it won’t.”

White hot desire lanced through you, and you forgot all rational fucking thought, practically crumbling against him, but he drew you up again, until your chest was flush against his own. Your taut nipples brushed against the soft, though slightly worn cotton fabric of his shirt. The sensation was heady and overwhelming, barely on this side of just enough. Your moan was clumsy and unabashed when it fled past your parted lips.

Jake sneered at the noise, lip curled in what you knew to be feigned disgust when he spoke to you. “You can’t even help yourself can you, little one?”

His hand pressed against your lower back, forcing you closer against him, and the same pleasure rocketed through you as your sensitive skin connected with his clothing once more. Your hips resumed their previous rhythm, thighs tightening around Jake’s own to attempt to assert some semblance of control over the erratic movements of your body.

“N-no, Lieutenant,” you panted, stammering through the syllables.

You might’ve had enough shame to be embarrassed by your own whimpering, if Jake hadn’t started to flex and tense the thigh you were currently rutting against within an inch of your life.

“Well, go on then, take what you need.”

Despite the fact that you had a slight height advantage from being seated in his lap, Jake was practically scowling at you in a way that made you feel deliciously small. He sat back in the reclined driver’s seat almost lazily, short of the tension he was maintaining in his leg for your benefit. But even as you moved, you didn’t have nearly enough space, and you were sure you’d have bruises from where you’d leaned back against the steering wheel. The whine you released was downright guttural — part need, part exasperation. You hadn’t even realized you’d shut your eyes until you had to open them to look down at Jake, when he let out a downright cruel chuckle. He already knew.

“What’s the matter, hm?” Both of his hands rested at the top of your legs, squeezing the supple flesh where your hips met your thighs — one of his favorite places to feel you. He used the hold to still you. “Use your words or you get nothing.”

“Need you, please,” you practically chanted, your aching muscles propelling you against reason, struggling against Jake’s hold. “Need you s’bad.”

Your words were practically slurring, but you didn’t care. In preparation for tonight, you and Jake had abstained for a little while, so you were already well past ‘overstimulated.’

“Didn’t I tell you to take what you need?” A large palm closed around your throat, applying only nominal pressure — just enough to focus you — before he continued. “So why aren’t you? Don’t you wanna be good for me?”

The smirk rested upon his lips told you that Jake knew exactly what your problem was; he just reveled in hearing you say it.

“Not enough,” you whined when he eased the pressure, thighs tightening in their positions bracketed around him. “Need you to fuck me, Lieutenant.”

“Sweetheart,” he purred, head lowering to drop teasingly delicate kisses along the line of your shoulder. You didn’t miss the way he shifted beneath you, as much as your weight would allow. His slacks were drawn so tightly across his body, you were fairly certain that if you’d had the presence of mind to look down, you’d have seen his cock twitch. “You hardly know me. Plus, there’s not nearly enough room in this car.”

You knew what he was getting at, knew how desperately he practically daydreamed about fucking you bent over the back of his car — outside, where any and everyone could hear and see you. It was why you’d gone to a bar just outside of your normal stomping grounds. You were less likely to run into anyone you knew, and it felt like a fair but necessary compromise to allow your husband to live out his fantasy. Except now he wanted you to beg for it.

“Please, Lieutenant, please,” you babbled, remembering to lean in to the role you were meant to be playing. “I, I don’t normally do this either, but please. I don’t even care if, if…”

Your pleading was clumsy, but if Jake had noticed, he hadn’t commented on it. Instead, he’d opened the car door on his side and ordered you to get out. When you reached for your shirt, to guard against the late night chill, he delivered a sharp smack against your cheek. It was a limit you’d previously agreed upon, but what you hadn’t expected was the primal way you moaned in response.

God, you were his. You were so fucking his.

He got out of the car once you were steady on your feet, and before you could reach for him, he’d spun you around, pressing into you until you were bent over the trunk of the car you’d rented for your little expedition. Your eyes skimmed the parking lot — not crowded but certainly not empty, either. The perfect amount of risk.

“Color, sweetheart,” he said softly, teeth grazing the shell of your ear.

“Green, bright fucking green,” the words hissed through gritted teeth, as you struggled to push back against his hips. The erection currently straining behind his jeans felt like a fucking punishment. You’d do anything to see him, get your hands on him, and —

“Wrists,” he barked, clearly settling right back into character.

“Is that an order, Lieutenant?”

You knew Jake loved that you could dish it as well as you could take it, but the sharp smack he delivered your ass let you know that Lieutenant Seresin was not a fan. You yelped, upper half pressing closer into the car. Your nipples went taut against the metal, practically stinging from how cold it was. You couldn’t decide if the sensation was too much or not enough, before Jake was repeating himself — something he hated to do.

“I said wrists.”

“But Lieutenant, what if someone sees us?” You were probably laying it on thick, and while you knew Jake was too far gone to make fun of you for it, you wanted to hear the delirium creep into his voice; to know how absolutely fucking wrecked he was, and how very much your doing it was. Because while you were very much his, he was also very much yours.

You heard the familiar sound of his belt and zipper, and then he was shoving up your skirt and using your own weight against you to press you tighter against the car. The anticipation was as delicious as it was agonizing. You wriggled your hips, just to do something, just to tease, and then —

Jake groaned behind you as he began slowly splitting you open, pressing into you at a rate that was dizzying — both too soon and not quick enough; you couldn’t decide if you wanted more or less. The promise of that frenzied push and pull of him inside of you, hips stuttering with need. You were insatiable for what you already had. One of his palms collected both of your wrists in his grasp, pinning them together at the base of your back; the newfound tension in your shoulders, as infuriating as it was, only worsened the ache that resided deep in your belly. With his other hand now carefully coiled around the nape of your neck, Jake pressed your cheek against the back of the car with so much force, you struggled to keep your toes pressed into the pavement for balance. Even the brush of your bunched skirt at the top of your hips felt like too much; you were an exposed nerve, you felt turned inside out from the intensity of the pleasure licking up through your insides like flames.

And you were babbling, a short chorus of “oh fuck”’s and “right there”’s, when Jake finally spoke again: “Look at you, takin’ me s’good. Wish you could see, doll. Y’look like a fuckin’ dream.”

Jake would’ve sounded sleazy if he was anybody else, accent pouring out thick over words practically hissed out through gritted teeth — but he was so fuckin’ smooth. You wanted to rile him up, too, to beat him at his own game, when you heard noise coming from the far side of the parking lot. For a moment, Jake stuttered behind you; clearly not expecting the sound, either. It was the brief pause in his movements that allowed your mind mere moments to clear, to process, to fight through the haze. Above, or perhaps through the sound of your husband’s soft pants, you could hear two people chatting quietly; they’d likely stepped out of the bar for a smoke.

“Wh-what if they hear us?” You managed to mumble convincingly, though you were delighted by the thought, as was evident by the shiver racking your body.

“Let them.” The words were a near snarl, sending more hot, unrelenting waves of ecstasy coursing through you. Your upper half sagged against the back of the car, mouth fallen open in a silent expression of pleasure.

Behind you, Jake released his hold the nape of your neck, only for his fingers to twist in your hair to wrench your body upright. “Didn’t I just say let them hear you?”

“S-sorry, Lieutenant,” you practically wailed, the sound unfiltered and needy — you knew what was coming next, and apparently so did Jake. Immediately, you felt a warm palm smothering your lips, to stifle the second, much louder noise that left your mouth as the knots coiled up within you finally snapped and unwound, and the orgasm rocketed through you. Your vision went white, and all sound faded away. Vaguely, you were aware of Jake, your Jake behind you, and the soft, slightly strangled noise he made when he finished, but you were too busy loitering in that in between feeling, part floating back down to your body, part tingling all over.

When the ringing in your ears subsided and you felt like you could finally hold your eyes open, you clued into Jake’s voice, whispering your name hurriedly. You could hear the sound of his zipper, the buckle of his belt, he was rushing. And then he was spinning you around, eyes searching your expression worriedly while he busied himself with fixing your skirt. It was then that you realized you were crying, or you had been, fat tears dribbling down your face as you sagged against the car.

With his shirt wrinkled and the flush of a fresh orgasm, Jake looked absolutely stunning, even in the low light — and you hated him for it. He framed your face in his hands, both thumbs capturing the stray tears as he heaved out a sigh.

“You went so quiet on me,” he mumbled out softly, “I thought, I…”

You could only shake your head, then gripping both sides of his shirt to drag his warm frame toward you. His arms encircled you almost immediately, one palm smoothing up and down the length of your back while the other cradled the back of your head, where you were curled into your chest. You weren’t sure how long you remained that way, wrapped in his embrace, but it felt like centuries later that he broached the silence again.

“So, I don’t know how much they saw, but those people from earlier definitely saw something. I think we should get going, babe.” In response to this, you whined and pressed tighter against your husband, your bare chest pressing against his, as if you could somehow get any closer. At this, he only chuckled, freeing a hand to open the back door to the car. It was a little awkward for him to move and bend, with you wrapped around him for dear life, but his hand reappeared a moment later with the sweatshirt he’d stashed back there for you. Before Jake had even gotten to work pulling the cotton material over your head, you knew it would smell of his cologne.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he said softly, his expression downright fond. Even as his arms dropped from you, his hand found yours almost instantly, to lead you to the passenger’s side of the car.

“Bath time?” you questioned, finally finding your voice again.

“Bath time,” he repeated with a smile, dropping a kiss on the top of your head as he helped you settle into your seat.

#callsign phoenix’s 1k #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman smut

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zenaidamacrouras1 · 4 months ago

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Ten questions for writers

The lovely @somanywords tagged me and I'm all in my bullshit as I finish a long fic so it's the perfect time for this.

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

Why is it shouting? I didn't mean to make that big but whatever. 23.

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

Word Count: 764,847

And what I would like to say, is that I started writing in the summer of 2022, so pretty much exactly two years ago, and deleted one longfic when I decided I hated it, so my point is, that is an average of more than 1,000 words a day published, and I have a shit ton of unpublished stuff.

Is my math possibly close on this? Holy shit, I talk a lot, and don't worry, I do have an actual diagnosis for my mental health problems, not that it helps all that much, but hahahahaha, doing great.

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Captain America, though a lot of Marvel sneaks in around the edges.

Wandavision, Hawkeye (more the show and comics than the Avenger's movies version of Clint) and Black Widow in particular. I am interested in writing diverse stories which has me pulling from the more recent content for women, queer folks, and people of color to include. I do see the irony of hyper-fixating on two white males for literally years and nearly a million words and then complaining about lack of diversity. Let's talk about it.

4. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

I do, meticulously and with great joy. BUT.

When I first started writing I had no idea what to do with comments. They made me happy and thrilled, but also very stressed about social etiquette. I would rarely reply. At one point I saw an anon asking on Tumblr if the author was mad at them for commenting because they commented on every chapter of a work in progress without hearing anything back. I honestly had never thought about it from that perspective, so I starting replying, and it got easier with practice. I have gotten into my own groove and I enjoy it now.

I think if it stresses authors out, no pressure. It actually does take up a chunk of time, especially on my more popular fics or if a chapter is particularly exciting/has a cliff hanger, etc. I really enjoy doing it, so I don't mind at all, and if it ever feels like a TASK I don't pressure myself to reply, because I find if I wait a few days it brings me joy again.

5. have you ever had a fic stolen?

No (?)

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

No, I have collaborated with artists through Bangs though which is super neat!

7. what’s your all-time favourite ship?

Look the obvious answer is Stucky.

I think one of my first pairings was Mara Jade and Luke Skywalker, but in that pairing I was a stand in for Luke Skywalker and Mara was too cool for both of us but also imprinted on my developing brain.

Mara Jade (for those who don't know) is a formerly brainwashed lady spy superhero in the 1990s era Star Wars books with sexy red hair. I suspect the author had read some Black Widow but have not confirmed this. I had not seen any Marvel comics at that time and was very on board with Mara Jade. (Not literally, sadly.)

As far as writing though, it's Stucky that I keep thinking up stories that I have a compulsive need to write down. I think of lots of stories for other pairings but they don't eat my brain like Stucky.

8. what are your writing strengths?

I am stubborn as fuck.

9. what are your writing weaknesses?

Excess (see above).

10. first fandom you wrote for?

On ao3 it was Winter Soldier+Widow (since orphaned, it was bad).

In my head as a teen it was definitely MeLuke Skywalker/Mara Jade. Very extensive mental storylines between us them.

----

No pressure tags for anyone who sees this and wants to play! And also @dharmasharks @voylitscope and @fsbc-librarian and @late-to-the-party-81 and @metalbvcky and @aimmyarrowshigh and everyone else I am trying to get over my social anxiety around tagging please don't stab me.

#zenaida talks (too much)#I love steeb rogers #I love my darling bucket #I love everyone in this bar #and everyone on ao3 #except for the jerks but I already blocked all of them so we're good to gush

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ssmygiftexchange · 3 months ago

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❄ Welcome to the 2024 Sasamiya & Hirakagi Winter Exchange! ❄

This is a secret santa gift exchange event to celebrate the world and characters of Sasaki and Miyano and Hirano and Kagiura by Harusono Shou. Fic writers and fanartists of all skill levels are welcome!

Please take a look at the schedule below, and Keep Reading for the full info and guidelines!

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「 Schedule 」

Sep 1 - 15: Sign-ups Sep 20: Assignments sent Oct 1: First Check-in Nov 1: Second Check-in Dec 1: Third Check-in/Last day to drop Dec 24 - 31: Gift reveal

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「 About 」

What is a gift-exchange? It’s an event in which participants are given an assignment to create fanart or fanfiction for someone based on their requested prompts. Since it’s a secret-santa style event, participants must keep their gift and recipient a secret until the posting period.

How do I sign-up? You can sign-up through our Sign-up Form between September 1 - 15.

How are matches made? In the sign-up form, you will be asked to provide the details of what you’re interesting in receiving and creating, including your likes and dislikes, so that we may match you with someone with similar preferences.

※We will do our best to match people as closely as possible, but please keep in mind matches may not be perfect. You may treat this event as a chance to experiment and step a bit out of your comfort zone to make someone happy!

What are check-ins for? There will be 3 check-in forms during the creation period to ensure everyone is responsive and your gift creation is on track. You will not be asked to share WIPs during check-ins, but failing to respond may result in getting dropped from the event if we don’t hear from you.

How do I reveal my gift? By posting it here on tumblr! For fics, you can share a link to AO3 or wherever you post fics, or publish it directly on a tumblr post. Make sure to mention the @ of your recipient in your post, as well as the event account (@ssmygiftexchange). You must only reveal your gift during the posting period, and not earlier.

For writers posting on AO3: you may use the tag ‘Sasamiya & Hirakagi Winter Exchange 2024’. Recipients are also encouraged to check their AO3 settings to make sure they allow gift fics.

What if I can’t complete my gift? If you think you won’t be able to complete your gift for any reason, please let the mod know as soon as possible so that they can assign a pinch-hitter in time and ensure everyone receives a gift.

What if I need an extension? If you need more time to complete your gift, please contact the mod before the posting period begins to get an extension. You may also request an extension during check-ins.

Why ‘Hirakagi’ instead of ‘Kagihira’? It’s in reference to the series name rather than the couple, since it’s a general event based on the series as a whole!

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「 Gift Requirements 」

Fanfics must be at least 1000 words and completed.

Artworks must be finished and rendered (polished beyond sketch quality). If traditional, please provide a high quality scan or photo.

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「 General Guidelines 」

Do not reveal yourself to your recipient before the posting period starts. Additionally, please refrain from sharing WIPs or discussing details about your gift publicly.

Your gift should adhere to at least one of your recipient’s requested prompts, and must not include anything explicitly listed as DNWs (Do Not Wants).

Do not reach out to your recipient during the creation period. If you have questions or need to clarify anything about your assignment, please ask the mod to contact them on your behalf.

This event is not restricted to the two main couples. All characters and ships (romantic or otherwise) are encouraged as long as they exist in the SasaMiya/HiraKagi universe (no OCs/crossovers/etc).

Prompts are not required to be winter or holiday themed. All kinds of prompts are welcome.

NSFW content is permitted as long as both you and your recipient are at least 18 years of age and it is explicitly offered and requested in your sign-up forms. All mature works must be tagged appropriately and include Content Labels. When posting art, you must adhere to Tumblr's Guidelines.

Gifted works may ultimately be enjoyed by anyone, so anything that bashes, degrades or demonizes any of the characters in the series is NOT allowed in this event.

All gifts must be new, original works created solely by the author/artist. Using AI to generate art or writing is strictly prohibited and will get you removed from the exchange.

Be kind and respectful of your fellow participants, and have fun!

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If you have any questions, send us an ask!

#sasamiya & hirakagi winter exchange

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rauhallinen-hauki · 1 month ago

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so I finished the fic that I wrote about in its cover art posts. it is a dialogue heavy shepvance marriage proposal story. there isn't any hardcore violence or detailed erotica in it, so I can post it here without putting a mature label on it. it is also on ao3

I doubt this post will show up in the tags, but as always, warnings for past depression, mentioned suicidal ideation, a brief implication and mention of sex, and a single mention of masturbation in the text

about 6000 words under the "read more". I'm really sorry if the read more doesn't show up

An assumed epilogue

Summary

The Resistance's leading lady proposes to a former HECU corporal. Seemingly redundant conversations follow.

Notes

Set in a post-Combine occupation Earth after a hypothetical Half-Life 3. This hypothetical Half-Life 3 takes the storyline of Mark Laidlaw's Epistle 3, with the changes that Alyx doesn't kill Judith and that she and Gordon close the Combine's portals to Earth, both returning to it. The G-man is driven away by them and ultimately loses interest in Earth, so by extension, in his employees on it. Return to Ravenholm (Opposing Force's canceled sequel) happens, somewhere between Episode 2 and Half-Life 3. Adrian eventually ends up working for the Resistance, basically as a forest ranger.

I don't actually think any of that would happen in the real Half-Life 3 (if it ever comes out). Nor do I think Alyx and Adrian meeting each other, let alone being a couple, will ever happen officially. And this goes without saying, but neither do I think nor want my personal take on these characters and world to be the "definitive" or "canonical" interpretation.

Written for many reasons, but mainly because it helped me process some things I've been going through. Also written because these games and especially this pairing mean a lot to me. I wanted to see these characters getting to live in a relatively "happy ending" scenario. Or at least get them some closure. I had scrapped this fic for good, but upon revisiting it almost two months later, I revived and subsequently finished it in a couple of days. Doing so has brought me further closure in some things.

All possible corniness, purple prose, repetition or overuse of phrases and words, and general redundancy in the text is intentional.

Partially based on personal experiences.

***

It's not that she needs to do this. She's been dating the Resistance's unofficial-official 'alien fauna* shepherd for almost three years now. Too little time for some, but enough for her to know that what is going on is something special. Even the Vortigaunts said it: it is a strong bond, vortal or not.

It's not that this will make that bond better, or validate it, or whatever.

No, she just thinks it'd be at least nice to ask. She wants to find out. Get the intrigue out of her head. But how?

It's a sunny evening at White Forest. Alyx and Adrian are on a walk, talking. Alyx does most of the literal talking; Adrian leads the way. One of Alyx's hands holds one of Adrian's, caressing his knuckles with her thumb. Her free hand rests on her utility belt.

But as they walk through these groves that they've walked a thousand times before, so familiar yet at this moment so alien – not in the way Xen or the Combine Overworld felt alien – Alyx's steps falter. The grasp on the belt tightens slightly.

Between Alyx's stories, Adrian asks: "...Are you okay?"

"Yes. Just a little tired," Alyx says with a smile, hesitantly letting go of Adrian's hand to readjust her headband. "Guess I'm still not used to this summer heat, huh?"

"Mmm. Is that why you've been at the garage so much?"

"Yeah."

Adrian curiously raises an eyebrow, as if about to ask something else, but is reassured for the moment. He slows down his pace.

They fall into a comfortable silence. But Alyx's heart flutters with the force of a hurricane. Her mind spins, a maelstrom of thoughts cascading onto it.

She thinks about her father. How he was always there with great advice. She never got to ask him in detail how he felt when proposing. And how did mom feel? She thinks, despite how useless it is.

If only they were both still here, when almost everyone, everything is...

She takes deep breaths. Welcomes the clear, earthy air in her lungs. It rained last night. Not acid rain nor metallic shells filled with headcrabs. She stops thinking about her parents. She does, however, think about their wedding. About her father's and Dr. Kleiner's stories of a small party with some family and close friends.

Maybe she and Adrian will do the same. Blast some Rainbow and Kyuss since the radio has been fixed, and since it can be used without fear of attracting unwanted attention. Go plant some zinnias. Ah, and gardenias. Adrian has always been fond of those.

Well, of flowers in general. His gaze lingers on the blossoms speckling the trees' branches. Then it lingers on her. Like usual, he catches her staring.

Alyx combs her hair with her fingers and winks at Adrian. Adrian looks away, faking sheepishness. Alyx grins. So...

How do you ask a sweet guy like him how to marry you without coming off as too hyped up? I don't want to pressure him!

Gordon answered her calmly in straightforward sign language: "Do what feels right, be honest with him like you always have." Other fellow rebels gave her words along the same lines of that. Barney casually rolled his eyes and said: "Just ask him already!"

But how do you do it? Get on one knee, hope for the best? What if she overwhelms him, makes him uncomfortable...

She thinks and overthinks, getting too ahead of herself... when she hasn't even asked.

Come on, just enjoy the moment!

The birds chirping in the trees. The soft breeze playing with her hair. The snarks chirping in the undergrowth. The soothing sound of Adrian's quiet, gas mask-filtered breathing.

Then, something rustling. The glimmer of sapphires and amethysts inbetween the emerald thicket. They come to a halt, Alyx motioning with her hand for Adrian to come closer.

A shock roach scuttles out of the bushes. Electricity makes its whole body jitter, overcharged as it is in the humid ground. Poor thing must be exhausted. Alyx stoops and takes a closer look.

It doesn't seem hostile. Why would it be, when its species doesn't need to fight every second to survive anymore? Doesn't look like it'd want to attach itself to her arm either. It just shakes there, petrified in the shade of the bushes.

You'll be fine. Everything's alright.

Alyx carefully picks up the shock roach and gives it to Adrian. As much of an animal person as she is, she'd rather let the expert in bugs himself handle it.

Adrian cradles the shock roach with one arm, his free hand petting it. Soon enough, the bug leans against his chest, buzzing with joy. The same hands that once wielded its species as a weapon now pet it with the gentleness of an angel. A brawny angel, whose strong arms know how to hold someone in their worst days.

He's always been a hunk. But God, does he look great these days. Healthier. He's put on a few pounds. There's more energy in his steps. More of that glimmer behind the green lenses. Especially here.

In the soft glow of the canopy-filtered sunlight, the forest's greens take on a myriad of shades. Camouflaging, mixing with the color palette of his helmet and vest's suspender straps. At a quick glance, it's like he's wearing a veil of leaves. He looks so happy. So at ease.

The perfect moment doesn't exist. But if there was a right place at the right time, then this is it!

Adrian puts the shock roach back on the ground. It scuttles off to adventure in the undergrowth.

If he says no, then that's fine, too.

Without making a sound, Alyx opens one of the utility belt's pouches, pulling something out. She holds it in her fist. "Adrian, I uh... I actually wanted to ask you something."

He turns around to look at her. Notices the muted coldness in her tone. Subconsciously grabs the vest's straps, fidgeting with them.

"I've been thinking lately. About lots of stuff. How fast time goes, how it flies." Alyx sighs. Same dialogue she's had with herself countless times on restless nights. The same she's managed to confide only bits and pieces of to Adrian before. "The Combine... that man in a suit... I know they're all gone. But..."

She clutches her necklace with her free hand. She frowns. Always the same old crap rotting in the back of her mind.

"Sometimes I just can't get it clear in my head. It's like... yesterday I was at the Borealis. Now I'm okay. We're fine. Everything's alright. And it's like I'm still not used to it."

There is a gentle but firm touch on her shoulder. She swallows.

"Alyx... are you really okay?"

"I'll be alright. I'm just so damn tired." She has to stop looking into those green lenses. Into those beautiful eyes that beg for an answer she can't really explain nor give with her own gaze, so she looks down at the ground instead.

Taking a deep breath, she welcomes the clear, earthy air in her lungs. Welcomes the sight of grass, leaves and dirt. Listens to that quiet, gas mask-filtered breathing.

An exhale. "I know there was a lot of bullshit going on when we met."

Most of what comes after are things she bothers to explain but not to delve too deep on. Partially because Adrian knows firsthand the type of struggle Alyx recalls – trying to move on when those you love are killed, almost dying yourself when the world faces a thousand interdimensional crises at once, said world surviving but being so ravaged it looks just like the way you feel after dealing or trying to deal with so many problems that counting them reads like a supply list, existential dread at that man in a suit, etc. Memories and thoughts that just won't shut up sometimes.

And partially because Alyx is exhausted. Putting these last three years into words puts things into perspective: it's been rough.

Not all has been bad. But good or bad, it's still been one big decision, or "big thing" or most often a big damn catastrophe after the other. And yes, life is cyclical. No peace and no strife last forever.

But it can't always, always, always go so fast. Like running a marathon or climbing a tower when your lungs and limbs burn, and you gasp for air and it's like you're about to trip and fall, right? How do you live like that?

She leans on him. "I can't keep up sometimes. It's too much."

They fall into an otherwise comfortable silence, if it wasn't for her anxious breathing. His hand moves down from her shoulder to her waist. He pulls her close.

"We'll figure it out" he says.

"Yeah."

A pause. Anxiety fading, she closes her eyes. Thinks. Probably overthinks a little, too.

A smile teases her lips. "...Still though, I'm so glad we met when we did."

He holds her a little closer in agreement.

She clears her throat and opens her eyes. "Well, like I said, I've been thinking. What is it that I wanna do now, when all that's over?"

Another pause. Why is it so hard to say the obvious all of a sudden?

"Listen, I think you already know how I feel about you. About us. These past years have been... God, it's been amazing."

Alyx turns to face Adrian, carefully pulling herself away. She gives him a small but warm smile. "I want to move on, make the most of what time I have left. Keep helping everyone around here. Well, everyone I can in general. 'Heal the Earth.'"

This is so corny! But despite almost chuckling at the thought, she continues. "And I want to keep going on walks with you, holding you... just being with you..."

Alyx's smile widens. She lets go of her necklace and cups Adrian's left cheek – her hand caressing the canister – and looks at him in the eyes. It's not uncomfortable. Not when she has finally decided, right now, what to say to that sweet, hunky unofficial-official Resistance shepherd. To that someone that has helped, helps, and will always help her figure it out.

"What I'm really trying to ask is... Adrian..."

Bringing her fist to her chest, she holds it up to him and opens it, a ring made out of scrap on her palm. Crafted in restless evenings thinking about him and all they have shared. She asks: "Do you want to marry me?"

Before getting an answer, Alyx realizes that she should be on one knee. And isn't it supposed to go: Would you marry me?

But that doesn't matter anymore.

Adrian can only stare. He blinks. Blinks again. Only on the third or fourth time he blinks does realization dawn on him, eyes widening the longer he observes the ring. The why.

Why she's been so much by herself at the garage. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Everyone needs their space and alone time. But now it makes sense why she's been vaguely distant lately.

Why she's been so contemplative.

Adrian carefully takes the ring, his hand holding Alyx's for a couple of seconds. Alyx brings her hands together, looking expectantly at him. Trying to guess the entirety of the face he's making under the mask.

It's a simple design. She must've recycled parts from Combine structures, because the scrap metal has a subtle, strange silver sheen to it. He turns it. It's engraved with a pattern of delicate curves and hard edges. Resembling the petals, leaves and stems of a rose or a gardenia.

It's gorgeous. Not only in the physical sense, but also for (or maybe because of) what it represents. He puts it on the middle finger of his right hand. Relishing its texture.

Never in his dreams, not even in those his mind might've come across in the infinite void while "sleeping" in that astral Osprey, did he imagine this.

Alyx. This funny, smart, brave, hot as hell... and yes, stubborn woman. This post-apocalyptic princess that sometimes can't process the new non-apocalyptic realm. This downright good person.

"Honey?"

Her, radiant in the golden sunlight permeating through the canopy, every detail he could get lost in highlighted. The streaks of red accentuating her hair, those subtle laugh lines, that mole at her collarbone. The sweetest smile. *Even when she's also been thinking about her most hellish days.

Her, offering a piece of her art (herself) to him. Asking him to be hers.

"Adrian?"

Tears well up in his eyes. His heart beats in his ears, so loud he can barely hear his own quiet, gas mask-filtered sobbing. How did he ever get so lucky?

"Adrian?!"

"Y-yes! Yes! YES!"

Adrian gazes into Alyx's eyes for a couple of seconds before wrapping his arms around her. And Alyx nimbly throws her arms around Adrian's neck before he can give her the tight (not too tight to hurt her) squeeze he's been holding back this whole evening.

Bodies pressed tight together, they hug in a way resembling the ones in their sweatier, steamier moments. Not that this is a sexy situation. They just need to hold and squeeze and get good grips on each other right now.

He leans down slightly and rests his head on her shoulder. Past the light armor that is the PCV, a tender touch settles between his shoulder blades. Trying and failing to stop his crying, he closes his eyes. Relishing the sensation.

His hands roam her body, rubbing her back, massaging off any vestiges of anxiety. Until one hand stays on her lower back. The other holds the back of her head, his fingers running through her hair. She laughs.

She smells so good. Of forest and sweat and a cool, specific scent. Holding and massaging and being held and massaged with the mask filtering but still taking her whole essence in... it all sends some kind of energy through him. He keeps sobbing.

Birds and snarks sing in the distance. Then that warm, beautiful voice again. Although it sounds a bit brittle...

"Take it easy."

He sighs, tension leaving his muscles. His grip loosens. The hand on her lower back moves up. Stops at a spot in her worn jacket which has been further mended with duct tape. Over the hunter's wounds.

He wasn't there for her when it happened. Not that he could've been; both unaware of each other's existence and all. Lost somewhere he can't really describe. But he still regrets it. Regretting leads to reminiscing about other regrets from around that time, in the very beginnings of their friendship. Never getting to meet Eli. Petty jealousy over Gordon. Feeling alienated without reason.

But that's all over now. "Oh Alyx, I..."

As he holds her, he decides (reminds himself). He couldn't do anything back then. But his regrets won't stop him from cherishing what they've built together. No enslaved alien creatures, nor inter-dimensional empires, not even that creepy government guy can change that.

And although her own anxieties and regrets aren't something he can fight for her, he can help in dealing with them.

Her hands on his chest, she tugs him closer somehow by the vest's straps. Heat radiates from her. And he gets completely lost in her embrace.

"...Thanks," he manages to say. For telling him what has been bothering her, for the ring, for the hug, for everything. For so much he can't say since words won't suffice right now.

She understands.

Eventually, they break the hug and dry their tears. Adrian apologizes for getting overwhelmed. Alyx says it's okay and in turn apologizes for taking him "off-guard". Adrian nods.

They continue their walk. Adrian recognizes the glade up ahead and explains which edge of the forest they're approaching. Alyx leads the way back to White Forest base.

Between the tree trunks, the lake nestled in the middle of the mountains gradually comes into view. Its surface shimmers in the setting sunlight. A chill breeze flutters across the valley.

"Man, is it weird..." Adrian thinks out loud, stretching.

"What?"

"Seeing the lake like this."

Alyx observes the lake as well. The wind sketches the barest of ripples on it.

"It just hits me sometimes how things change." Adrian chuckles softly. "I get sent to kill Gordon Freeman, and he ends up becoming one of my best friends. I want to beat some g-man to a bloody pulp. Now? I don't give a crap about him."

Alyx brings a hand to her chin.

"...I thought the sunset couldn't be calm again."

They come to another halt. She meets his gaze. "What do you mean?"

He looks away. He's never spoken this much in... hell, probably weeks. He's never been much of a talker in general. And he's told her the main facts before. Why tell the details?

But she told him what's been bothering her. So maybe he should do the same. Even if that isn't the most romantic thing to reminisce about after being asked your hand in marriage.

Adrian's voice comes out in a strangely clear tone. "The night before the mission at Black Mesa, my squad and I were having a long talk. Just shooting the shit I mean. Anyway, I don't remember how we got to the topic, but Jackson asked how we'd like to die."

He stares at the lake again. "I guess in case the whole operation went FUBAR."

"...Which it did," Alyx says. She can't help but think about failed attempts to overthrow the Combine over the years. About all these fellow rebels lost.

Those from City 17 and Black Mesa East. Her father. Judith – God, what happened to Judith? Those she never knew, but who she knows would've been at her side too. Like her mother, or doctors Cross and Green. And maybe countless others whose stories never got told.

Humans, Vortigaunts, literal or figurative animals, from Earth or Xen or anywhere else. In the end she ends up thinking about almost everyone; not only about those long gone but also about those still alive. About those in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The chill breeze snaps her back to the moment. She stares at the lake again. It's so silent here, as if that gas mask-filtered breathing were the only sound of the valley.

Adrian nods slowly. "Jackson said he wanted something explosive."

"Ah, like an action hero. And what did you say?"

"Freezing. I once heard it was like falling asleep. And that in the end, you'd feel warm." He wraps his arms around himself. "Then Tower said drowning was actually the peaceful way to go.

...Fast forward a bit. Or a lot. I get out of Ravenholm. Gri- Father Grigori sort of... you know..."

"Exploded?" Alyx asks. She only knew the pastor in stories. Always amazing how much crazy stuff happened in Ravenholm. Crazy how Adrian was there too. What is it about quiet guys finding their way into these places?

"...Yes. So there I was. Alone, tired as hell, walking through the woods surrounding the town as the sun set. Until I found a lake." Adrian pauses. Taking longer, deeper breaths. And he just keeps staring at the lake. Lost in thought.

The more Alyx stares at the water, the more at peace she is with... something. It's hypnotic. Except it's conscious. Gingerly grabbing her necklace, she listens to Adrian as the lake is a puzzle to be solved. A machine she seemingly can't hack.

Wow, it goes over and over and over again.

The wind keeps sketching on the lake's shimmering surface. Its lines become more confident. Small circles and interlapping wisps. In water, the sky's purples, reds, oranges and pinks mirror, the setting sunlight dispersing. The wind draws in longer strokes. Jet black ink, brushpens dancing on a collage of amethysts, rubies, ambers and morganites speckled with fading gold.

The more she stares at the lake, the more its surface resembles outer space. The more the wind's strokes of ink a complete darkness. Like cosmic voids between galaxies.

It also resembles a certain figurative darkness, where the figurative gemstones lose their luster. There was a time – well, maybe more – when she wanted to swim in it. To get away from everything, escape from a wrong place and a wrong time.

She and Gordon had returned from the Combine Overworld. The war that had waged through almost all her life was over. Except that in her heart it wasn't.

Adrian trembles slightly. "...Everyone was gone. I had nowhere to go. No reason to go on living. So into the lake I went." His breathing hitches. An inaudible gasp before continuing. "I waded for a while. Thought my body could at least feed the pikes or ichthyosaurs. Maybe I could've swam a bit too."

Alyx takes one of Adrian's hands and guides it to her waist. Adrian's breathing gradually slows down. He pulls her close, wrapping an arm around her while his free hand fidgets with the vest's straps. She leans on him and closes her eyes. Cracking the code.

The darkness of the lake and the void. Same to the one in her fever dreams and nightmares of running in the woods, Advisors in hangars, vortexes of collapsing universes, citadels and black holes, trains and planes going nowhere in the nothingness.

Some where the man in a suit said: Miss Vance, you can't afford this misery. It would have been far easier to accept an offer when given the chance. Let go of squandered investments. Sunk cost fallacy.

Miss Vance. Will weeping over your father's corpse bring him back? Does the steel husk you call a pet really not know something is amiss... every time you insist you are alright? What would the Resistance think of their dear leader, unable to hold a coherent thought behind her reassuring smile? Hm. Is it a wonder nothing became of you and Doctor Freeman, even with the blessing of friends? Or was he always a mere indulgence, so you would feel no remorse now, here in your quarters, touching yourself to the thought of another silent man? Another squandered employee. Would this heal all of Corporal Shephard's pain? Are you healing yours?

Does only thinking about everything fix anything? Can you keep up?

Do you believe in living like this?

She keeps holding her necklace, trying to focus on the warmth around her.

Adrian keeps a steady arm wrapped around Alyx. "And then I stopped wading. There wasn't warmth in the sun. The water was so cold. Too cold. And maybe I was too anxious or hungry or both, since I got this killer bellyache." He sighs. "I... I couldn't do it."

In the darkness of her room, at hours that didn't pass at night, she thought about sneaking to her nightstand, or to the base's communal kitchen or laundry room. Where it could've been her pistol or a myriad of knives or detergent that finally did the trick of swimming out of water.

But she couldn't get out of bed. The hunter's wounds burnt as if she was being impaled all over again. But lying there, headaches and back pain tearing her apart, always felt like drowning on air.

"...So I decided to circle the lake. A river sprang from it, I followed it. An dirt road ran parallel. I came across a busted up shack along the way... must've been rebels raided by the Combine. I stayed there a couple of days."

The man in a suit kept talking. But despite feeling like she'd forever fall and drift through the void, her lungs and limbs burning, she always gasped for air and replied: No.

Because in the darkness she also came to understand its cycle. After all those eternal nights came the cycle where she learned to keep moving and sleep again. To wake up and tell those in the wrong place at the wrong time: Guys, I need help.

"Weird place. Birds sang at the exact same time every morning."

Alyx giggles. She could fall asleep standing here, her head resting on Adrian's shoulder. "Any other critters living there?"

Adrian nods. "There was this cave nearby. I saw antlions for the first time..."

Alyx takes deep breaths and lets her senses refocus on the moment.

As she opens her eyes, his words about the sunset make sense. Or rather, she understood them all along. She just had to remind herself.

Adrian lets out a Phew!-sounding sigh. "A certain ex-Black Mesa security guard passed by the road." He almost chuckles as he gazes into the horizon. He still remembers the ex-security guard recognizing the HECU uniform. "We scared the hell out of each other."

"Yeah, I think I know who you're talking about," Alyx says. "But anyone who knew Otis Laurey is a friend of his, right?"

Adrian nods, vaguely sad. Insane how things work out once you talk them out first. "He said something about owing beers and that the alien apocalypse had ended for good. He also talked about the return of Gordon Freeman and this... Alyx Vance."

He pauses again before returning to look at her. He has also reminded himself of certain facts. "Figured I could stay at the base for a while and meet some more people. You know the rest."

She smiles. "Say Adrian, that day... what did you think of Alyx Vance when you saw her for the first time?"

"That she was the most beautiful person I've ever seen. She still is."

"Funny you say that. You've only gotten hunkier since!"

He looks away for a second as his cheeks heat up. Never before has he been more thankful for the mask and helmet covering him.

The winds strengthens. Still a breeze, but strong enough to dishevel Alyx a little. Adrian gently tucks some of her hair locks back into her headband. He combs her hair with his fingers before it turns into a gentle but firm touch on her shoulder.

"...We're going in circles," he says in a whisper, ashamed of himself. He stares at his free hand. At the gleam of the ring in his fingers. "Why think about it now?"

She thinks. Thinks about all that has led to this moment. Why she's been overthinking about shock roaches and water and literal and figurative stuff in proposing to her boyfriend.

Well, even if she didn't need to do it, she wanted to marry him. It's a decision. A step. A beginning cycle, although it also isn't because sometimes it feels like they've been married for years. A paradox in of itself.

But she thinks about a broader one. "Because to take the next step you gotta look back."

He curiously raises an eyebrow.

"I mean, everyone does that, right? Get all nostalgic? Focus on the hard stuff it took to get us here?"

She attempts to explain it physically, her hands sweeping circles and pointing to the lake and doing whatever her nerves subconsciously tell them to do. "I get why you're all shy about it. We were depressed. Think of it like uh... the ripples of the wind on the lake. The circles. Our depression and us meeting are circles. They just happened to overlap!

And sometimes in that overlap I go, 'Damn, how the hell did I pull this sweet, awesome guy? Why is he taking me out on walks and all when I actually suck ass at everything? He deserves someone better.' I was having some of those thoughts this morning. Not that we're depressed now, but..."

"I... I know. I get these kinds of thoughts sometimes, too."

"Yeah. But Adrian, there's nothing wrong with that. It's okay. Really. Remember the other circles overlapping. Us dating... is one big circle. There are so many ripples in there! Like this whole evening, for example."

She presses her forehead against his helmet with a gentle thud. Staring down at his chest, she draws circles on it with her fingers. And for a moment, she feels a couple of years younger.

"...Remember the day we started dating?" he asks. He feels a couple of years younger for a moment, too.

The forest was golden brown, the sun was lost in the mist. She took him for a walk to the base's small gardens after a long workday. It was the evening she confronted him about a certain letter addressed to her. Where he confessed having written it, the confession within it. Where she confessed her own figurative letters – as in, the flirting over months – addressed to him. And she threw her arms around his neck, and he was as cold as the air and as hot as the...

"How to forget it? It's like I'm there aaall over again," she says, partially thinking out loud in admiration of the sunset they're in. She sighs. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

He holds her a little closer in agreement. Looks at her with more of that glimmer behind the green lenses.

Everything wasn't suddenly, completely alright after that evening. But despite being in the latter half of autumn, the sun was warming up again. And little by little, the world would regain its luster.

She smiles warmly, mirroring his hidden smile. Goddamn. What a beautiful, calm sunset it really is.

And there was – is – always something to be learned and to be reminded of in their countless other shared cycles, too. Making up after those rare times they have a fight. In more frequent times, both spent after having casual or passionate sex. Speaking without words. Or when taking care of alien and terrestrial fauna together; or just in hanging around, or...

Alyx places a hand on Adrian's belly and rubs it gingerly. Thinking about the Vortigaunts, how they channel electricity.

The energy surrounding her when being revived from the hunter's wounds. As she woke up, for a couple of seconds, she saw Gordon aglow with a bright, orange light, mixing with the multicolored ones from the Vortigaunts.

Right know she almost palpably senses Adrian's energy. It's so vibrant here. For a millisecond, she can see its light clearly: the soft, green glow she has felt countless times before.

She imagines that she is sharing, giving some of her energy to to him. It's a corny thought, but that doesn't matter anymore.

A gradient of golden and red light illuminates her palms for a millisecond.

Eventually, after a long pause of once again simply relishing the moment, before either can suggest resuming their walk, they pull away from each other. The ground shakes. Thumping, although there aren't any antlions living in this beach.

"Dog!" Alyx exclaims.

From up on the hill cresting the lake, Dog sprints towards Alyx and Adrian. He must've gotten worried, so he personally came to see what's taking them so long to come back home. Time just slips away on walks.

Dog takes a laughing Alyx into his forelegs, giving her a hug. About to properly greet Adrian as well, he notices the subtle gleam of the ring.

He looks at Alyx, who just confirms something with a nod. And he shimmies in his entirety and stomps his forelegs on the ground, the rattling of his metallic frame like a triumphant giggle.

"You know, Dog helped me decide what materials to use on the ring," Alyx says.

"Really? I'm not surprised," Adrian says. He gives a few affectionate scratches and rubs to Dog's metallic frame, thanking him. The robot always had a sharp eye for seemingly "useless" things.

Adrian's eyes widen in (late) realization. He looks sheepishly at Alyx. "Now I've got to make a ring for you. Maybe we could go collect scrap together next time?"

"Sounds good to me. Dog?"

The metal frame rattles harder. A small cloud of dirt forms at Dog's legs. Then it subsides as Dog calms down.

"One condition though..." Alyx says, without planning to state an actual condition.

"Mmm?"

"Write something nice on it for me."

Adrian freezes for a moment. He's never been much of awriter: most of his experience comes from keeping a diary back in his HECU days. He remembers how he managed to confess his feelings for Alyx on a letter, so long and so little time ago. How hard it was to make pencil kiss paper.

But he still journals, although he isn't the same man he was back in his HECU days. Or the one he was three years ago. Hell, even the one he was less than a year ago. Yet at the same time he is still him. It must be some kind of paradox. Thankfully not a temporal one though.

Adrian snaps out of his thoughts with a shrug. "Sure. Anything for my radiant wife..."

He'll write this time too. It'll just be engraving words on metal instead of paper. Something fitting for her. Like the beauty of a zinnia, or the re- (he'll figure this out in due time).

"Hey! What wife?" Alyx quips with her hands on her hips. "Didn't I tell you to take it easy? We haven't married yet, honey."

Adrian looks away, but Alyx can tell that he is faking sheepishness. And despite Alyx's words, without noticing it, their conversation takes a turn towards planning their wedding. Dog sits transfixed by the brainstorming.

Rainbow and Kyuss for the reception is a must. And while it'll be an "unofficial ceremony" with no dress code, Alyx says she'd like to wear a pretty dress under her jacket. Adrian considers attaching a veil to his helmet.

Gordon had already promised to be a bridesman to Alyx. But it works out, since Barney once told Adrian to "just tell him when it all happens," and that he'd be his best man if needed; and that he'd take care of the drinks (he keeps owing beers to everyone). Kleiner is a party animal so he'll-

In the back of his mind, he remembers some passages from his old diary. How he used to write about wanting adventure. Change, something exciting. And he got it. But it wasn't only about enlisting and boot camp, or the Resonance Cascade and Black Mesa, or all about race X and Xen, or Ravenholm and adapting to the new world.

It's also about these walks, and all those other everyday little adventures among the bigger, overlapping ones (ripples, circles) along the way.

...Man, is ex-corporal Shephard lucky.

Dog "barks" and motions with his forelegs towards the hill.

"Okay, okay. Let's go before Magnusson gets antsy," Alyx says. There will be time to plan the wedding. "I bet Kleiner's already made tea for everyone."

The night is young. Despite walking and standing all evening, Alyx and Adrian have full energy in their steps. Dog leads the way back to White Forest base through the lake's shoreline.

One of Alyx's hands holds one of Adrian's, caressing his knuckles with her thumb.

She observes their enlinked hands. The holes in his biker-styled tactical gloves. She brings his hand to her lips and kisses his bare knuckles.

"You DO know that I love you, right?" she asks.

He replies with an affirming, quiet chuckle and gently nuzzles his front voicemitter against her cheek, giving her a gas masked kiss. "...And I love you too."

And all this is just one of the unforeseen consequences of the Resonance Cascade. Two paths that under impossible circumstances still crossed, the accident that screwed the world having brought them together.

The Resonance Cascade was the worst and also the best thing to have ever happened to them. Another grand paradox in the struggle, wonder and gift that is life.

#my writing #my fanfics #post canon ideation #and no this isnt necessarily a well written fic #but hey just block and/or filter the tags and blog name and move on if you see this post and it bothers you #ive finally killed the obnoxious side of perfectionism #shepvance #alyx vance #adrian shephard #also featuring #shock roach #dog #half life

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sixhours · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 18 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

The walk to the clinic from your house takes about five minutes, but today you take your time, drawing it out. It’s autumn in Wyoming. The oppressive heat of summer has passed and you finally feel like you can breathe.

With the promise of winter comes snow, making movement by the infected hordes more difficult. With any luck, patrols will get a little less nerve-wracking for Joel and Ellie…and by extension, for you.

You haven’t thought about the radio in a long time, which is why, when you come home to find your front door unlocked, you don’t give it a second thought.

“Joel? You here?”

There’s a scuffling from upstairs, footsteps. You see her familiar red Converse peek over the landing.

“Ellie? Hey, I’m just getting off work.”

You set your bag down by the door, waiting for her to come downstairs. She doesn’t; lingering for too long. You realize you can hear her ragged breathing, the snick of her switchblade.

“Ellie? What’s wrong?”

Her footsteps are slow and measured when she finally descends. One hand is clutching her knife, her eyes never leave yours.

Sleepwalking? Is this a panic attack?

She keeps her focus trained on you but stops on the second to last riser.

“Ellie–”

You take a tentative step forward but she jabs the knife at you, trembling. You realize with dawning horror that she’s terrified of…you.

“Don’t!” she gasps. “You’re…you’re–”

“What–”

She bolts, leaping off the steps and practically spinning you on your heels as she flies for the door, flinging it open, tearing out of the house at a full run.

You stand in limbo, wanting to go after her, needing to know what set her off…but some dark thing in the back of your mind wakes from a deep slumber and rears its ugly head.

…oh, no…

You know what you‘ll find before you make it to the upstairs landing. The attic door has been opened, the stairs pulled down.

She knows.

You stand at the entrance to the attic, blinking back tears, unable to swallow past the lump in your throat.

You imagine her looking for the comics, taking matters into her own curious hands. You kept forgetting to go up yourself and dig through the boxes, kept promising her you’d do it and then forgetting , but was it really forgetting? No. The attic is a tomb of shame, you couldn’t face it when things had been so good, so easy , for once in your goddamned life things were light and–

She knows. She knows everything. She knows, she knows, she knows, sheknows sheknowssheknows…

You climb the steps on heavy legs. The radio has been turned on; it crackles with static. There are papers–your papers, your notes, your maps–scattered across the work desk. You never hid them after the last time, you’d been so panicked, so stupid .

Fuck. Why did it have to be her?

The room tilts and you brace yourself on the table, breathing hard, digging your nails into the wood hard enough to leave a mark. You need to think, you need to…fuck, if you could just think for one goddamned second.

Joel. She’ll go to Joel.

The recorder is blinking. You press the button to rewind the tape with a trembling finger. The final message is old, from last spring…your extraction orders finally came, along with a warning.

Your stomach sinks, drops like a stone, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself upright, to bite back a sob as you realize what it means.

They’re sending the masses your way.

You dig deep, finding that kernel of hardness within, biting on it the way you bit on a leather strap when you were scraped raw and bleeding. You gather the notes, the maps, and the tape with the final transmission–everything you can carry in shaky hands. You don’t have much time.

~*~

Tommy answers the door, blinking in confusion as you hold out the evidence of your crimes.

“I need Maria. I need to speak to the council. It’s urgent.”

~*~

Hours later, an emergency assembly is gathered in the Jackson town hall. It used to be a gymnasium; you’re staring at the scuffed markings on the wood floor as you await your verdict.

You tell them everything you know. You give them everything–your notes, the maps. You tell them to search the clinic, your home, even your body. You come clean with the stoicism of a prisoner of war, inwardly amazed at how easy it is to slip back into the role of soldier.

They grill you for hours and you answer with everything you have. No excuses, no drama, no tears–just the facts.

Inside, your stomach has knotted itself so tight you can barely swallow, every muscle in your body burning and somehow not yours . You are just an empty vessel. You wonder if this is what the infection feels like as it takes hold, cold certainty and dread and…drifting…

There are guards at the doors, but you have no desire to run or fight. The council has sequestered themselves in another part of the building. Sometimes you think you hear raised voices, but mostly you’re left to the quiet of your thoughts, the place you’d least like to be.

You think about Ellie finding Joel, because you know that’s where she’s gone. She’s probably already told him, and he knows your dirty little secret, your shame–

Don’t go there.

The hard voice is back, saving you from yourself.

Your heart lurches when you hear a door open at the other end of the gym and hear footsteps as the council shuffles in and takes their seats at the long folding table in front of you. Only Maria will meet your eyes.

She clears her throat, studying you for a long time. When she finally speaks, her voice is low and even, controlled.

“We’ve studied the evidence. We’ve searched your home and your office. You’ve given us a very difficult decision to make.”

You lower your head, waiting for the sentence. Waiting for hanging, jailing, expulsion.

“I can’t think of a good reason for you to lie to us now…no more than you already have,” she frowns, visibly angry, before smoothing her face into an unreadable mask. “The information you’ve given us can be…put to use. And as much as I hate to admit it, you’ve been a valuable asset to our community.”

You blink, certain you’ve misheard.

“To be honest, we don’t know what to do with you. We considered putting it to a community-wide vote, but based on what you’ve told us…I don’t think we have time for that kind of red tape.”

Maria sighs and sits back. “I want to be clear that this is a probation. As long as you’re here, you’ll be under supervision by council-appointed guards. Your every waking move will be monitored. You won’t be–”

“I’m sorry,” you say, your mouth suddenly dry. “I…don’t understand. You’re not…”

…saying I can stay? you think but can’t finish the thought. There’s no possible way.

Your eyes flick to the other members’ faces; most are downcast. Some stare at you in stony silence. You get the impression there were negotiations, and not everyone is happy with the decision, but Maria’s voice is steady.

“You’re more valuable to us here than out there,” she says flatly. “If it were anyone else…we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

You’d expected to be hung; at the very least, banished, put outside the walls to fend for yourself. You don’t deserve anything more; what she’s telling you doesn’t make sense.

One of the lucky ones.

“If you agree to these terms–”

“I…can’t.”

“Excuse me? You don’t agree?”

“I can’t stay,” you say, willing your voice to be stronger. It comes out faint and hoarse.

Maria stares at you, incredulous.

“You won’t make it,” she says flatly. “The infected are everywhere. They’re driving hordes of them this way as we speak. And if they don’t get you, FEDRA will.”

“I know,” you say softly. “But I can’t.”

~*~

The doors swing wide into the night air and he’s standing before you, eyes wild with confusion. He opens his mouth to ask the question, but stops short, hands at his sides, fists clenching.

It’s been eight hours since Ellie ran out your front door. You feel numb, twisted and wrung out like a wet rag. All you want to do is go back to the little green house, pack your shit, and leave. But he’s blocking your exit, studying your face, forcing you to watch the slow unraveling of his features from sadness to anger to rage.

“So it’s true,” he says thickly.

“The council doesn’t know about her,” you rasp, staring at a point beyond his shoulder, into the street. You need to make him understand that this is the one secret you didn’t give up. “I told them everything, but I didn’t tell them about her.”

He shakes his head, chest heaving, pacing like the leopard in its cage.

“I trusted you,” he hisses. “I trusted you with my kid, with my fucking life –”

You attempt to push past him, but he grabs your forearm, hard. The pain is fierce and tears finally come, spilling over, dripping silently down your cheeks.

“Joel–”

“Look at me!” he growls, hand grabbing your chin, tilting your face up to him, and the betrayal in his eyes is a wildfire waiting to consume you.

The door to the town hall opens behind you. Maria’s voice is soft but level.

“Joel.”

You wrench yourself from his grip and flee.

~*~

When the gates open for you for the last time, you’re carrying nothing but a backpack and your jacket, a knife tucked into the pocket. You think you can feel the entire community’s eyes on your back, but it’s just you, Maria, and the guards on the wall.

Joel isn’t there. Neither is Ellie. You’re thankful for small favors.

Maria clears her throat. “If I were you, I’d head north. If you make it past the border, things get pretty quiet. I’ve heard there’s a settlement in Alberta.”

You nod, but you have no intention of heeding her advice. You doubt you’ll make it out of Wyoming, let alone across the border. You’ve packed a few clothes, but it’s mostly for show. Survival is not the intent. You’re operating in a space outside your body, watching yourself from afar with the detached nature of a physician examining a patient, and this one’s not going to make it.

The gates close behind you with a groan, sealing your fate. The pack on your shoulders feels heavy.

You take a deep breath, and you walk.

~*~

Each day becomes a simple matter of one foot in front of the other. Your legs and back ache mercilessly and you revel in it, letting the pain become your constant companion. When you get tired, you lie down in the grass and curl into a ball with your pack as a pillow, entering a nightmare-filled sleep.

When you wake up, you’re always cold and hungry. You drink from a small stream, hands going numb with the frigid water as you bring it to your mouth. You fill a water bottle and stash it in your pack, mutely wondering why you bother.

You don’t see many infected at first; sometimes they’re off in the distance, easy enough to avoid, though you wish you dared to just throw yourself at them.

Take me.

Your mind runs in circles, trying to drag you back to Jackson. Sometimes you wipe the salt water from your cheeks before you realize you’ve been crying, but most of the time you’re lost in the great void that has opened up in your chest.

You lose track of time. There are more steps, the endless invisible path ahead, the steady ache in your legs, and the hollow gnawing of your gut. The ground is uneven, and as you grow weaker, your strides become less certain, less sure.

On day four, you crest a hill and find a highway running through a valley, what looks like a small town, tiny cars littering the surrounding area in their vain attempts to escape the inevitable. You haven’t seen anyone yet, infected or otherwise, but the highway promises civilization of a kind.

The hike is further than it looks, and by the time you pass the first decayed skeleton in the tall grass, your breath comes in short, ragged gasps. You study the skeleton, consider laying down beside it…just for a minute. Or maybe longer.

Maybe you won’t wake up. Maybe that would be okay.

The road cuts a ravine through the landscape, leaving a jagged ledge of rock and loose soil between you and the town. You’re stumbling down the slope when the ground gives out beneath you, pebbles sliding underfoot, and before you can right yourself, you’re rolling over and over, landing hard on one shoulder and wrenching your ankle with a sickening twist.

Pain rips through you and the world goes gray.

~*~

You blink up into the too-bright sky, groaning. It comes back to you in the flash of a white-hot blade shoved deep into your left ankle. You moan, rolling over, trying to get to your feet, but that leg won’t hold you.

It’s broken.

You hear them before you see them, the ground underneath you pounding a faint staccato against your palms in the grass. The first one appears at the edge of the horizon in your blurred vision, staggering with that telltale lurch, and your bladder flushes with hot fear.

You curse that hard seed of survival within you, the one that urges you to get up, to go, now . Another staggering figure in the background, then another…

You scan the littered field of cars, looking for an escape. There’s no way you’ll be able to run. The ground underneath you reverberates with their footsteps, their screeches and moans sound in the distance.

Just stay. Lie down.

Fighting your inner dialogue, you get to your hands and knees, trying not to scream when your ankle flops at an impossible angle. Eyes fixed on the nearest car, you begin pulling yourself across the field, hands clutching at the earth until your palms are scraped and bloody.

You steal a glance behind you and see the full horde like a wave washing over the landscape.

Gritting your teeth, you dig your fingers into the grass and pull, arm over arm, until you’re panting next to the car’s rear door. You reach up, muffling a scream at the pressure on your ankle as you lift yourself enough to open the door.

The knife in your pocket digs into your hip, reminding you, and you pull it out, fumbling to open it. You plunge the sharp blade into the back seat’s upholstery, giving yourself a lever on which to pull your broken body upright.

The screeching is on top of you now. You see a blurred shape streak by on the other side of the car’s muddy window, then another. The ground underneath you is thrumming.

You slide into the back seat and reach behind you to shut the door just as one of the infected slams into it, one mangled hand clawing its way inside. You scream and slash at it with the knife, slamming the door hard against the creature’s wet, angry growl. The flesh twitches and pulls back just enough for the door to latch.

The creature throws itself at the car, slamming its head into the window over and over as you scramble as far into the opposite corner of the seat as you can. Cold sweat stains your clothes, and there’s the unmistakable scent of urine as your bladder lets go.

A screech from over your shoulder startles you and you muffle a scream into your palms. The horde is surrounding the car now, fumbling and clawing blindly for purchase. There’s one on top of the car; when it sees you, it begins pounding against the rear windshield, leaving bloody, moldy smears.

You sob, a wretched sound in the confines of the stale, musty prison that will be your death. You curl into a ball and press your face to the upholstery, wishing you had the courage to open the door and let them have you. You curse that grit inside you that keeps you alive until the last waking moment.

But it will be over soon. The glass is cracking.

#fanfic #fic recs #the last of us hbo #joel miller #the last of us #ellie william #joel and ellie #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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dmbjexchange · 1 year ago

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Rarepair Exchange Signups Open

It’s time for the Daomu Biji Rarepair Exchange, a fic, art and vid exchange for DMBJ ships where more than 3% of English-language authors have posted fics on AO3.

In this exchange, participants will be anonymously matched to create gifts for one another during a six week creating period.

This exchange is open to all the DMBJ canons - if it’s DMBJ, then it’s eligible! It will take place on AO3, so you need an AO3 account to participate – if you don’t have one, you can request an invitation code here. If there isn’t enough time, no worries - contact the mods at here on tumblr or on Discord and we can send you an invitation!

Please read this post carefully before signing up.

Schedule

September 4: Signups open September 11: Signups close September 18: Assignments out November 30: Assignments due December 10: Fic reveals December 17: Creator reveals & treats deadline

Allowed Ships

Any DMBJ ship which has had less than 3% of English-language authors post fics for it on AO3.

For this year's exchange, this means the following ships are NOT allowed:

Er Yue Hong/Zhang Qishan

Hei Xiazi/Xie Yuchen

Hei Xiazi/Huo Xiuxiu/Xie Yuchen

Kan Jian/Liu Sang

Liang Wan/Zhang Rishan

Liu Sang/Wang Pangzi

Liu Sang/Wang Pangzi/Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling

Liu Sang/Wu Xie

Liu Sang/Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling

Liu Sang/Zhang Qiling

Liu Sang/Zhang Rishan

Qi Tie Zui/Zhang Qishan

Qi Tie Zui/Zhang Rishan

Wang Pangzi/Wu Xie

Wang Pangzi/Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling

Wang Pangzi/Zhang Qiling

Wu Xie/Xie Yuchen

Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling

Guidelines

1. Your creation must focus on your recipient’s requested ship (or one of their requested ships, if they have nominated multiple ones). While unrequested background ships are fine (unless listed as a Do Not Want), the focused ship must only be one of the requested ones. 2. You will be expected to create a gift matching your recipient’s request. Filling any specifying prompts is not obligatory, but try to create something you honestly think your recipient will enjoy! 3. You must not include anything that your recipient has listed as a DNW (Do Not Want). This goes for treats as well. 4. The minimum requirements for the gifts are 300 words for fic, one sketch on unlined paper for art (traditional or digital; no manips), or 30 seconds for a vid. 5. After the matching is done, all the requests will be made visible to everyone to allow for treating! There are no minimum requirements for treats (but remember to mind your recipient’s do not wants!). You can also create manips for treats. 6. This is an anonymous exchange: refrain from discussing your assignment in public. After the works are revealed, there’ll be one week anon period when the creators remain anonymous before the creator reveals. 7. If at any point you need to drop out, just click on the “default” button on your AO3 assignment page; we’ll find a pinch hitter to create a gift for your recipient instead. If you need an extension to finish your gift, contact the mods before the deadline. 8. After the reveals, comment on your gift in a timely manner. 9. Most importantly: be excellent to each other!

Sign-Up Information

Sign-ups will take place here on AO3, ending on September 11th. There, you can fill out details about your request and offer. You can edit your sign-up at any time until the sign-ups close on September 11th.

When signing up, you will be able to choose fandom and genre tags, as well as specify any additional details.

You will have to select the DMBJ canon you’re interested in creating and receiving a gift in:

Novels: Daomu Biji / The Grave Robbers’ Chronicles (including spinoffs, side stories, and extras)

TV: The Lost Tomb 1

TV: The Lost Tomb 2 Explore with the Note

TV: The Lost Tomb 2.5 Heavenly Palace on the Clouds

TV: Ultimate Note

TV: Sha Hai (and spin off movies)

TV: The Lost Tomb Reboot/The Sound of Providence (and spin offs)

TV: The Mystic Nine (and spin off movies)

Movie: Time Raiders

Movie: Reboot movies

This does not mean that you’re limited to requesting or creating a work during the canon timelines for those series/books. It’s just to mark which canons you’re familiar with to allow for easier matching: some participants might have a preference for a particular canon era, some might not be familiar with all the versions. You still have to choose your preferred canon eras even if you want to create or receive an AU.

You will also have to specify genres you’re interested in

Action/Adventure

Alternate Universe

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Angst

Canon Compliant

Crack

Dark

Domesticity

Fluff

Humor

Hurt/Comfort

Porn With Plot

PWP

Requests

Fandom - you have to choose at least one. If you’re willing to receive a gift in any canon era, you can just click “Any”!

Genre - you have to choose at least three tags.

Ratings - you have to choose at least one. This will help your gifter know what you like and are comfortable with when they're coming up with ideas to fill your prompts.

Warnings - you have to choose at least one. This does not mean that you WILL receive a gift with warnings, it just lets your gifter know if you are comfortable receiving a gift with warnings or not.

Optional Details - here’s where you can go into more detail about your perfect exchange gift!

If you run out of slots in the Relationships section (there is a limit of 20), you can list additional potential rarepairs here. Also, if you don’t have a specific ship in mind, but would like any ship involving a particular character, you can say that instead (e.g. ‘Liu Sang / any’, ‘Pangzi / any’, etc.)

You can also include:

General Likes: your creator may, but doesn’t have to, include them. This doesn't have to be detailed prompts, just general themes you enjoy, like getting together or established relationship.

Please note that works featuring QPRs, ace, and/or aro characters are absolutely valid things to request in a ship exchange. You may also request a fully platonic relationship if you wish.

DNW (Do Not Wants): things that your creator must not include - squicks, triggers, characters or things that you simply don’t like. Remember that you don’t owe anyone an explanation about why something is a DNW, and that DNW are not meant to be taken personally. Just list the things you don’t like, “DNW: X, Y.”

Please list if you have any audio or visual triggers (such as flashing lights). This could be in your DNW or could be separate. Please also list song/music DNWs (e.g. "please no lyrics that use the n-word" or "please no lyrics in [specific language]" or “please no [specific genre/s of music”).

Prompts/specific ideas: if you have any prompts, you can also put them here! You can be as general or as detailed as you’d like, but remember that while your creator will try to make the best gift for you, filling a specific prompt is not obligatory. You can include a crossover prompt (with other DMBJ verse or other canons), but make sure it’s not the only prompt you have.

For vid prompts, please list things like genres/styles of music you like (or like in vids), vibes/tone/theme you’d like to see (e.g. “angsty amnesiac Xioage”, “Heisang crack”, etc.), and things like that. Please try to avoid giving one or two specific songs for a specific character/ship.

If you run out of space for your prompts, you can write a prompt post on another platform like Dreamwidth, Tumblr, GoogleDocs, etc. and put the link in your sign up.

If you chose novels as one of your fandoms, you can use this field to list the ones you’re familiar with, such as ‘Books 1-4′ , ‘main series only′, ‘main series + specific extras’, etc.

The requests will be made publicly visible after matching is done, so that others will be able to create treats (additional gifts) based on them!

Offers

Fandom - you have to choose at least one. If you can create works for any canon era, you can choose “Any”!

Genre - you have to choose at least three.

Ratings - you have to choose at least one. This will help matching what people are comfortable creating with what people are comfortable receiving.Warnings - you have to choose at least one. This does not mean that you have to create a gift with warnings, it's just for helping to match what people are comfortable writing with what people are comfortable receiving.

Optional Details - in this field, you can tell us more about the kind of works you like to create, for example if you really prefer established relationship, feel best with certain kinds of AUs, or like writing darkfic. We’ll take it into account when matching! By the same token, if there’s something you really don’t want to write, let us know here as well.

If you chose novels as one of your fandoms, you can use this field to list the ones you’re familiar with, such as ‘Books 1-4′ , ‘main series only′, ‘main series + specific extras’, etc.

In the optional details of your offer, you can also name people you don’t want to be matched to, for example your regular beta, and we will do our best to avoid matching you!

The offers will only ever be visible to the mods; never to anyone else.

Your Assignment

You will be matched to create a gift for someone who requested at least one of the fandoms that you offer, with as many similar genres/likes as possible. This exchange will be hand-matched, after using AO3’s matching algorithm to first generate the potential matches.

If you have any issues when you receive your assignment (you have a question about it or think there’s an issue with it), contact the mods as soon as possible. Do not contact your recipient on your own.

You will have to create a gift for your recipient, fulfilling the minimum requirements of fandom, genre, and ship, and avoiding any stated “do not wants”. Filling exact prompts is optional, but try to create something matching your recipient’s likes that they will enjoy!

You will have to post your gift to the exchange AO3 collection before the due date (November 30th), using the “gift this work to” option to give it to your recipient. Your work will remain in the collection only visible to you and the mods until the reveals happen. Remember to tag your work appropriately or use the “chose not to warn” warning.

Treating

Treats are additional gifts for the participants! To allow for treating, the requests will be made visible when matching is done. You can create treats at any time until the creator reveals! There are no minimum requirements for treats, and manips are also allowed in addition to fic, art, and vids. As with assignments, you have to respect the recipient’s Do Not Wants, and while the optional details are optional, try to create something fitting the listed likes. One treat can only be gifted to one person.

Pinch Hits

In case someone needs to drop out, we will look for a pinch hitter to complete their assignment. Pinch hits will be posted to this tumblr and the DMBJ Yu Cun Discord.

Extensions

If you think you can finish your assignment, but you need a few days more, you can always ask for an extension!

Multi-Chapter Fics

If you are writing a multi-chapter fic for the exchange and don’t want to drop the entire fic at once, these are the posting guidelines for it:

Multi-chapter fics that are assignment fills must be fully written and at least the first chapter posted by the assignment deadline, ready for the fic reveals on December 10th.

From December 10th, at least one chapter is to be posted daily.

All chapters of the fic must be posted by the time of author reveals and end of treating on December 17th (If the fic is more than 7 chapters long, then this will mean that multiple chapters will need to be posted on some days).

Multi-chapter fics that are treats can begin to be posted at any time, but must also be fully posted by December 17th.

Other Important Information

Make sure to check the email you use on AO3 frequently during the exchange, as it will be the primary means of communication. We might contact you if there is an issue with your sign-up or if your gift creator has a question for you.

If you’d rather we contact you on your twitter or tumblr, please leave your handle in the offer section of your sign-up.

If you have any questions at all, don’t hesitate to contact us here on tumblr or on Discord.

#daomu biji #dmbj #the lost tomb #ultimate note #tomb of the sea #mystic nine #reunion the sound of the providence #the lost tomb restart #the lost tomb reboot #sha hai #lao jiu men #盗墓笔记 #盗墓笔记2 #终极笔记 #重启之极海听雷 #沙海 #老九門 #time raiders

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bkdk-winter-exchange · 1 year ago

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How the Event Works

We will supply a google form for participants to fill out, which will ask you for 3-4 ideas to give your gifter, a section to tell us what you will not create content wise, and the best way to get in contact with you.

Make sure that your ideas are as detailed as possible, and if you prefer a specific medium (art/writing) to mention what medium to prefer, and to keep that in mind when writing your idea.

There will be an opt-in NSFW section, but you must be over 18 to take part.

You will be contacted about your giftee and receive their list of prompts.

There will be two check-ins in the course of the event, one in November and one in December.

If/when participants drop out, pinch hitters will be contacted.

There will be an optional discord server for you to join! (More details to follow)

Posting will begin in late December. You will have a window of several days to post your gift. We will have a tag to use on tumblr so that we can find and reblog all gifts, as well as a collection to post to on ao3. You will need to either @ or contact your giftee to make sure they receive it.

Rules

Do not reveal your giftee until it's time to post.

Do not post your gift early.

If you participate in NSFW and the mods have found you lied about your age, you will be blacklisted for any future events held by any of us, separate or together. If we find out prior to the end of the event, you will be kicked out and replaced by a pinch hitter or a mod.

If you need an extension or to drop out of the event, you must contact the mods as soon as possible so we can make accommodations.

Please respond to any mod messages within two days of receiving them. If we do not hear from you within the week, we will have to assume you no longer wish to participate.

We will have gift requirements that will be shared by the time sign-ups open (ie. fic length, and level of art completion)

Interest Check form is still up!

#bkdk #bakudeku #bkdk winter gift exchange #would have posted this earlier but mod hesandi had a fever lol #bkdk gift exchange #bkdk winter exchange

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simplifiedemotions · 1 year ago

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Thanks for the tag @sodamnradd :*

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

53, but a lot of them are ficlets (because I’m an idiot who should’ve put my ficlets in a series collection instead of posting them individually), so I’d say the number is in the 20s.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

313,951.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

HP, jjk, grishaverse.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

8 simple rules for loving a vampire

Check (Mate)

Paper/Burning

Thrall

Untidy Souls

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do!

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

Sunrise, for sure.

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

Most of my fics tbh lmao. I actually love angst but I'm too soft-hearted when it comes to dhr. Likely with other pairings I would be far more cruel. Though I do love some good hurt/comfort.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not really.

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

I have! Though I mainly stick to m-rated sex. Mostly because I think sex is (at least in fiction) an extension of the pairing I'm writing, and I haven't often found a reason to write something filthy just for the sake of it. I've read a lot a sexual content but the stuff that interests me while reading just isn't applicable or in-character for the pairing I'm writing usually. So if I did write for a pairing one day where I think explicit sex is warranted, I probably would then.

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

I was inspired to write a story after reading beautiful word, where are you by sally rooney, but it wasn't really a crossover.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes.

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

I have not!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Dramione, and Genya/David from the grishaverse (which, hilariously, I've never written for this ship. But it's largely because they're so delicate, and I worry my hands are too rough to ever balance them in a way that's deserved.)

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

Maybe my fic Thrall... It's so big in my head and I struggle even with just single chapters because I overthink how to get to the end and in a satisfying way.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm decent at dialogue. I can also get into the teeth of a character pretty well (though bets are off on how well that may translate on the actual page, lmao.)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I have a tendency to jump from one thought to another (and another and another and so on), and so a lot of my first drafts are riddled with incomplete sentences and nonsensical declarations. I'm working on it, though. I also need to get better at more expansive internal narration. I love writing dialogue, but I struggle to describe things and my characters’ internal thoughts often feel incomplete. I think because I'm such a character-focused reader it makes it hard for me to see the bigger picture. Scenes are so vivid in my mind and I have a hard time translating that onto the page. I have so many flaws but these are the current ones I'm working on :D

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

If it's done with care, then ofc!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Dramione.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

To this day, my favourite fic I've ever written is still probably Roots & Recesses. I'm sure it's riddled with flaws, as it was only my second fic ever, but I hold such a special place for it in my heart.

tagging @heyjude19-writing @gemgirl28 @senlinyu @skiitter if you wanna!

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nonobadcat · 2 years ago

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Real talk out of pure curiosity: I saw you posted you were working on chapter 59? Of your fic

How do you have the motivation to write 59 chapters of a fic? Or I guess how do you keep inspiration for it?

I tend to lose inspiration after like three chapters rip

Real talk: I've been working on chapter 59 for 3 months. XD

The story in question (Hypnotic Nightmare - AFO x F!Reader - TW: noncon/abusive relationship/non-reader directed violence) has been going since October 2020. It's 265,000 words and rising. I also have A Taste of Your Own Venom (Shigaraki Tomura x F!Reader - TW: consensual relationship but Tomura is pretty obviously a yandere) which is about 197,000 words and my original, professionally published book Maid For Your Master which is about 86,000 words (Gothic romance, horror, F!Reader insert, TW available here) and I am working on the sequel.

There are a few things that help me out writing these monsters:

I like slow burn relationships. Smut is great and all, but I need the back story to be seduced.

I binge produce 10-20k words at a time then take several weeks off to chill.

I try to have multiple projects so that when I can't work on one **cough cough Venom**, I work on another.

I don't post the chapters right away. I used to, but I find that writing them out, holding them back until I've started working on the next chapter, and editing them one more time before the post works best. Ideally, I like to work 5 chapters ahead because it lets me add new ideas and then build them in to previous chapters. This makes it more fun and less stressful.

I have an ending in mind before I post. This allows me to work towards an specific point which is satisfying to readers, even if I get distracted by writing out every kink on earth (eg. Hypnotic) or I need a break (Venom).

I don't post everything I write. I write out tons and tons of ideas and wait to see if I have the motivation to finish them. For example, I have a 5 chapter outline for a yandere professor Overhaul story which is waiting in the wings to be posted. Been working on that for two years.

I don't hold back when a short fic idea hits just right. That is why we've had things like Red Sky at Morning (AFO x F!reader - dubcon merman) and Hands-On Instruction (AFO x F! or M! reader - dubcon professor x college student). If someone suggests something and it sparks joy, I write it. If if doesn't, either because it's not my bag or I'm too over stressed to work on it right then, I usually just reply in private.

Truth is #4 is not happening with Hypnotic right now because these are the final chapters. I am hoping to make 60 the last and then write an epilogue to give closure.

Another thing to consider is that, for long fics (eg. > 5 chapters), I don't recommend posting them on Tumblr. Tumblr gets buggy after about 2k words, can randomly drop your post and seems to hate extensive formatting (eg - glitches after you make so many formatting changes or tags). Also, based on my two years of fanfic experience on this site, Tumblr users don't engage much with long fic as a rule. They prefer headcannons, short smut (eg - one chapter), witty one liners, etc.

For proof of this, let me point out that Part III of Feeling The Spirit has 89 likes and 25 reblogs. The <200 word SFW drabble I posted last night of Tomura clutching a plushie while gaming? Over 100 likes and 12 reblogs in 6 hours. Tumblr like fast and furious content.

Archive of Our Own is much better for long fic. The website is more stable, formatting is much better with HTML (see the text bubble exchange in the first chapter of Liar Played by the Heartstrings - it's my crowning glory), it's easier to scroll between chapters, and long fics do better with their algorithm. The more chapters you post to one story on Ao3, the more your fic gets bumped to the top, the more people see it. Tumblr shows your story more based on reblogs, so you want things that people can quickly agree with and move along because that's what they reblog.

If you're writing on Tumblr alone, losing motivation in 3 chapters makes sense because engagement drops like crazy. On Ao3, engagement doesn't really take off until chapter 10-15 (where people can binge read your stuff), so it's more motivating.

The honest truth is though - this is my natural temperament:

Ask anyone who has had the misfortune to DM me. My mouth doesn't have an off switch. One of my commenters on Feeling The Spirit compared me to Victor Hugo because I spent an entire chapter introducing the haunted house.

So... for example... Hypnotic started as a 5 chapter project... and then it kinda ran away with itself.

Honestly, the thing for me is that writing is a hobby, not my day job. I just write when it makes me happy and then post it slowly when I have enough content for people to enjoy. That keeps the pressure off and lets me share my messed up brain with all of you.

#badcat babbles #a hypnotic nightmare #a liar played by the heartstrings #feeling the spirit #a taste of your own venom #fanfic advice #fanfic authors

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phvntom-limbs · 1 year ago

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @scary-monsters <3 ty ily

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 6! One for The Witcher and 5 for JJBA.

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 6,498 <3 So few!!! For now <3

3. What fandoms do you write for? JJBA, One Piece and maybe a few others in future. Buuut mostly those two right now. Even if the OP shit is unreleased. And Resident Evil!!! Hopefully soon.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Well this is sorta easy with only 6 works in total. BUT. His Sweet Kiss (Geraskier fluff), Letters from a lover (compilation of short letters from characters), If I could be with you tonight (Gyro angst), Ties that Bind (Dio fic...... that I uhhh,,, haven't continued. Whoops) and Phantom Pains / Fleurs Captives (Diabeth angst) !!!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes! I do try to! I don't get them very often, mostly because I'm only recently getting back onto writing platforms. But I do try to. I like people who enjoy my works to know the support is appreciated.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Definitely Phantom Pains. Out-of-the-blue Diabeth angst ending in grief and regret... I do love writing angst and I don't shy away from sad endings either! Although I do love a good happy end too <3

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Speaking of.... His Sweet Kiss is definitely the happiest one, at least so far. My lost-to-time fics from the Wattpad era weren't exactly happy, so I think a fluffy mess like HSK is the best right now.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not yet. Yet. It'll happen eventually I'm sure.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I do! I have yet to publish any of it, though. Mostly because I am incredibly picky when it comes to smut, and by extension incredibly finicky with my own smutty works. As for what kind? Ah... a mix.

10. Do you write crossovers? I don't. I don't even think I'd necessarily consider it for anything other than a crackfic.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I have not! But I have had people copy my writing suspiciously closely.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I have not, but I would be honoured if someone offered to, and I hope that at some point I'm fluent enough in another language to do so myself.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have not. I'm semi-open to the idea of it, but also... kind of sounds stressful.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? Ahhhh..... Geraskier held my heart for a very long time. I'm also a YenRalt truther, though. I struggle a little to compute ships nowadays but I think Dinopants is really fun. and Satosugu.

15. What’s a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? Oh god, the Dio fic I started and then never continued. It was meant to be a look into Diabeth over the years but I changed a lot of things since I started it, so I may have to scrap the whole thing and restart.

16. What are your writing strengths? Description. I love describing things and spaces and people more than anything and I think that love has lead to a lot of practice. I can be a little flowery at times but I don't particularly mind it. It's not for everyone, though.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Dialogue. I never know how much to have people say or not say. It's something I need to practice. On the flipside, sometimes I have characters say too much and then I completely neglect action. I just need to get better with it all-round.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I do it! And I respect other writers who have the balls to do it (and potentially cock it up). I tend to check, and double/triple check it.

19. First fandom you wrote for? If I'm being honest it was probably Skullduggery Pleasant, back before I even knew Fanfiction was a thing. And I read it out in front of my class at the time. I think I was about 10.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Honestly? Every since I wrote Phantom Pains it's been my pride and joy. I really love my use of description and imagery and tone in that one specifically. I just really love it.

I don't have anyone to tag.... that Kat didn't already tag. So take this as a free ticket to join in should you wish to <3

#honey bats extended universe #not writing #I love tag gamesss AAAA #ty Kat for tagging me I love being included I hope u have fun w my answers ily

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forabeatofadrum · 2 years ago

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Here it is, fic rec friday! I said I was gonna do this! I don’t know if it’ll be a weekly thing, because it depends on whether or not I read fics in a week. Also, to prevent people from being overwhelmed by tags, I don’t think this is going to be a tag challenge, but of course feel free to also make your own post with recs!

Strap in Klainers and Snowbazzians, cause here we go. It’s another long one! Happy reading!

@cerriddwenluna wrote Swipe, a funny one-shot about Kurt and Blaine meeting through Tinder. Sort of. Look, it has a tiny plot twist. You have to read it for yourself 👈(ﾟヮﾟ👈).

I read more of Gwen’s stuff! I started Bem Vindo a Portugal, previously known as Klaine in the Netherlands which became Klaine in Portugal. I do not mind, Gwen, and if you ever need more help with Klaine in the Netherlands, please have this: klompen, windmolen, kaas, tulpen, kroketten! Jokes aside, though, I am excited to get to know Portugal. I’ve never been here, but my mum actually visited Lisbon for the first time a few weeks ago and she was very excited.

There are quite some Marta fics I still need to read (goblin!Baz is still somewhere buried in my Likes), but I am going through them! I read The Vampire and the Boy in the Tower and I am speechless. It is so good. Oh my God, Marta created a wonderful universe with a lot of angst, but also hope.

I still have Klaine Advent fics to catch up on, and I read @snarkyhag‘s WIP. I... don’t really know how to link it, since there isn’t a masterpost or a separate Tumblr tag or an AO3 entry yet, so for now, have the Klaine Advent 2022 tag! Yay, Klaine and Samcedes!

Another cute story is Tipsy Truths by @aroace-genderfluid-sheep. Simon confesses his feelings for Baz through a drunk text. Oh boy!

Apart from reading fic, I also love reading people’s thoughts about fic. @facewithoutheart had a nice extra about This Will All Go Down In Flames over here. (Also, Fuck The Mage, kinda). @cutestkilla also shared some Humdrum insider information here. It’s really cool to see what parts of canon have been expanded on for What’s Left. And @captain-aralias also has some behind the scenes stuff here on Four Funereal Weddings and an American Stag Do. I adore the fic (and the suits!).

I am also losing it over the “HELEN!!!!”s in The Wellbeloves by @ionlydrinkhotwater. This is a comic where Simon and Agatha are siblings. I am so emo about Simon having a lovely family and this is so fun.

Unfortunately, I also come with angst. A post on my dashboard led me to This Will End in Flames by @bloodiedpixie and uhhh yeah MCD warning. Simon dies in Wayward Son. I need... a moment... to lie down and weep. I see there is also another installment in this series where Baz dies, but I’m not strong enough for that now.

Now, for something no one asked for! This is another thing that I saw on my dashboard, but apparently a group of people started a project in 2016 called Sarah Jane Neverending, which is an extension of the Sarah Jane Adventures! (Kind of like Class: Ongoing, I guess.) (Whovians, man.). SJA got cancelled in 2011 and it was very unexpected, since Lis Sladen, the main actress, died. Back then, three more episodes were already planned and I know that over the years fans have asked for novalisations of those stories, so that they could at least be seen as canon. That never happened, so I guess some fans took matters into their own hands. I have only read their season 5B stories, aka their version of the 3 unproduced episodes. I will see if I will also read their completely fanmade season 6 and 7. But yeah, season 5B. Damn. The Thirteenth Floor fucked me up in particular.

And lastly, there might be some smaller ficlets or drabbles that I won’t mention in these posts, but I will redirect you to my fic tags on my main blog: Klaine fics (klfics), Brittana fics (bsfics), general Glee fics (glee fic), Whoniverse fics (dw fic), Check, Please! fics (omgcp fics), Simon Snow series fics (co fics), and the general fic tag (fics). And here’s the original writing tag, because why not. I do put a lot of stuff in a long queue, so the tags might now always be “up to date”.

Also, guys, I need you to know that I was going through the generic fic tag, retagging fics that needed to be retagged, and I found a Snowbaz fic from the Fangirl days and it was tagged as Bazon. BAZON.

AND OKAY, one more thing. When I was cleaning out that rusty tag, I also came across this fic called And In The End by @scrunchyharry (Klainers might remember the name fleurdelisse). It’s over ten years old, but I remembered it immediately. I might’ve even printed it out 10 years ago. Like, I am pretty sure I have a physical copy of it somewhere. Caroline, I see you’ve probably left the fandom, so I didn’t know if I should tag you, but if you read this, please know that even ten years later, this fic makes me so emotional.

#fic rec friday #technically speaking i have 4 more fic tags #i have a fic tag on my winx blog and on my avatar blog #and i have two topic fic tags #wait i have another one another fandom #but i kind of stopped reading fic for that one due to *cough* conflicted feelings #lol guess what fandom #also the 5b stories did become sort of canon in 2020 #long story #but yeah this week i am back on my bullshit huh #tagged in

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made-ofmemories · 2 years ago

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When Life Tears You Asunder, But You’re Not Alone

(Chapter 8/17)

General Warnings/tags: Found family, implied Wayne/Susan in future chapters, Max & Eddie have a sibling like relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort

Chapter specific warnings/tags: Mechanic!Eddie, Very brief mention of Billy, the details about Billy and Billy and Max’s relationship are taken from the book ‘runaway Max’

Word count: 1868

Summary: Billy was a pretty shitty brother, there was no denying it, but Max still finds herself mourning for the sibling relationship they never got to have. With him gone she thinks so are her chances of ever having the big brother figure she’s always wanted. Then in a turn of events that she never saw coming, Eddie Munson waltzes into her life. Or more like, almost runs her over.

Notes: Co-written with the wonderful @ladydorian05 and crossposted on AO3. Updates every Friday.

Series Masterlist

——-

Eddie almost jumps out of his skin when Max swings the door to the trailer open. He’s standing in the small kitchen with the morning news playing in the background, wearing his navy blue work coveralls and pouring himself a mug of coffee which he almost burns himself with when Max barges in.

“I’m starving, what’s for breakfast?” She asks. Her mom had gone to work early, leaving her to scavenge through the kitchen for breakfast on her own. She hadn’t found much, they were long overdue a trip to the grocery store.

“Jeez, good morning.” He has a hand clutched over his chest, “Seriously, entering like you live here. Harrington needs to teach his kids some manners.” he says before taking a careful sip of coffee and making a face, he forgot to add sugar.

Max ignores him and makes her way to the kitchen which is really just an extension of the living room. Maybe they have some cereal or something, she thinks as she sifts through some of the boxes on one of the countertops.

“Alright, you ready for some pancakes, Eddie?” Wayne's voice echoes from somewhere down the corridor, one of the small benefits that came from the government issued trailer, Wayne got his own small bedroom. No more sleeping on the pullout couch. Despite this being far from a regular occurrence, he doesn’t look surprised when he rounds the corner to see Max rummaging through his kitchen, “Oh, good morning Max.”

“Good Morning, Mr. Munson.” She says with a small smile.

“Oh, so he gets a proper greeting. Seriously, the youths these days.” Eddie continues with his complaining, but his tone is light and full of amusement.

“Did you have breakfast?” Wayne asks and she shakes her head, no, “Want some pancakes?”

“That sounds great, thanks. Do you need some help?”

“Nope, Eddie here is plenty help.”

Eddie groans and makes a show of placing his mug on the counter before opening a cupboard to get the pancake mix. She suspects that he doesn’t actually mind helping out, but it simply wouldn’t be Eddie if everything wasn’t done in the most dramatic fashion possible. Max gives him a small shove as she passes by on her way to the couch for no reason other than to see the scowl she knows will form on his face.

There’s nothing on the tv this early besides the news, Max tries to pay attention to it but quickly finds herself zoning out. The little conversations between Wayne and Eddie happening behind her are much more interesting. As it turns out Eddie is completely hopeless in the kitchen and Max can’t help but think that Wayne would have been better off without his help, it is amusing, however. Wayne is more competent, though he assures her on more than one occasion that he’s no chef. Whatever they come up with she’s sure it’s bound to be better than anything she could have scrounged up on her own in a mostly empty kitchen.

Eddie offers her another scowl when he brings over 2 plates of pancakes and sees her sitting comfortably with a smug smile. He hands her a plate and takes a seat on the opposite side of the couch. Wayne follows a moment later bringing with him a plate of his own and a bottle of syrup which is passed around between the 3 of them.

Wayne sits in the leather armchair next to the couch. They eat in silence for the most part, but Wayne will make light conversation with her every now and again asking about school or winter break.

“Do you and your mom have any plans for Christmas?” Wayne asks, setting his empty plate onto the coffee table in front of him and grabbing his mug of coffee.

“Not really, my moms been working a lot.” She’s used to her mom working long hours, but things have gotten even busier with the festive season approaching. Lately, the only thing Susan has been capable of after arriving home is drinking until she passes out on the couch in front of the tv. They didn’t celebrate thanksgiving and she can’t imagine they’ll celebrate Christmas either, “I don’t think she’ll really be up to celebrating that much.”

“You’re welcome to join us.” He offers and Eddie looks up with a mouthful of pancake, this seems to be the first he’s hearing of it, “You and your mom. It won’t be much, but there’ll be a hot meal and your mom won’t have to worry about the mess.”

“That would be nice, I’ll let her know. Thank you,” Max nods and shoves the last bite of her own pancakes into her mouth to hide her smile.

Eddie gathers up their plates and the 2 empty mugs once everyone is finished eating and dumps them into the sink which is already starting to overflow with dirty dishes.

“Alright, I gotta go.” He announces, swiping his keys from the coffee table on his way past, “You staying here, Red? or do you want me to drop you off somewhere on my way?”

“I’m coming with you.” She says hopping to her feet and grabbing the jacket she had taken off and slung over the back of the couch earlier, “Bye, Mr. Munson. Thank you for the pancakes.”

“Call me Wayne!”

She’s halfway out the door following Eddie, but she hears him and calls back with, “Bye, Wayne!”

“Why are you so nice to him? It’s weird. All you ever do is bully me and I’m the one who drives you around every damn day.” Eddie complains as they climb into the van, but he doesn’t actually sound annoyed at all.

“Because you’re an asshole.” She says with a bright smile, her voice full of affection even through the harsh words.

He sighs, reversing the van and narrowly missing the mailbox belonging to the neighbors in the process, “Alright, where do you want me to drop you off, shithead?”

“I meant it, I’m going with you.”

“What? You do know I’m heading to work, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

”Then why would you want to hang around in a mechanic shop all day?”

“I’m bored,” She shrugs, “Christmas is in 2 days, anyone who isn’t at work is busy with family stuff.”

“Even Sinclair?”

“Out of town visiting his uncle.”

Eddie is driving with one hand on the wheel, chewing on the skin around the thumbnail of his other hand, as he tends to do when he’s thinking about something, “Alright fine. You’re lucky my boss is nice.”

“Can we go to the mall after? I need to buy some last minute gifts.”

“We’ll see, Red.”

Eddie’s boss is a plump older gentleman with silver hair and a receding hairline, but he has soft features and a kind face. Eddie introduces him as Mr. Carson and promptly jabs her in the side with his elbow when he notices her trying her hardest to bite back a laugh and snarky comment at the irony.

“Who’s this?” Mr. Carson asks with a warm smile when he sees that Eddie isn’t alone.

“This is my sister, Max.”

Mr. Carson takes the time to show Max around whilst Eddie gets started with his day. He offers her cookies and lets her sit in the cramped little office situated out the back of the garage. Eddie was right, he is nice.

It’s a quiet day, apparently, and there are 2 other members of staff around besides Mr. Carson and Eddie. One looks around Eddie's age, the other is older, maybe around her mom's age. They both offer her some strange looks at first, she doesn’t blame them it’s probably not every day they have some random teenage girl wandering around their workplace. They quickly warm to her when they find out who she is.

She finds Eddie an hour or so later, leaning over the engine of an ‘84 Honda Accord. His hair is pulled back into a low bun and he already has grease smeared across his face.

“Having fun?” He asks without looking up, his voice is strained with concentration.

“Yeah. Mr. Carson gave me cookies.”

“He never gives me cookies.” Eddie pouts, he looks ridiculous and Max laughs, “Hey, can you pass me the socket wrench? It’s the one with-”

“I know what a socket wrench is.”

“Right-” He says sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck with a grease-stained hand, “sorry.”

They continue like that for a while, Eddie working on the car and Max passing him whatever tool he asks for next. He lets her come over and take a peek at the engine herself, he seems impressed when she’s able to keep up and follows what he’s saying when he explains what had been wrong with it and which parts have been replaced.

“You know your stuff.” Eddie comments, closing the hood of the car.

“Back in our old house, in California, I used to watch Billy working on his car in our garage. Sometimes he’d let me tag along when he went to Kragen auto too.” She explains and she’s surprised to find the memory doesn’t hurt as much as it once did, “He could be fun sometimes.”

That was maybe the worst part about Billy being gone, those memories from California before things really went to shit when Billy would have a good day and she could actually pretend even if just for a few hours that they were friends. It never lasted. Billy was unpredictable, one moment he was explaining to her how to change the oil in the Camaro, and the next he was yelling at her to get out of his face with no warning.

“He had the blue Camaro, right?” Eddie asks, because of course he would have noticed it. Billy drove like even more of a lunatic than Eddie and the Camaro was designed in every way to draw attention to itself, from the sleek exterior to the roar of the engine. It always stood out in the high school parking lot. It saddens her a little to think of it now, sitting abandoned in a scrapyard somewhere.

Max nods, “I drove it once.” She says proudly, “Nearly gave Harrington a heart attack.”

Eddie laughs, “That sounds like a story I want to hear.” One of Eddie’s co-workers rounds the corner and they both turn to look in his direction, “Come on, you can tell me another time.” He says quietly to Max as he moves on to his next job for the day.

Max finds that she enjoys hanging out around the garage. She’s not allowed to touch the cars, but Eddie and his co-workers will set the occasional task for her to complete, whether it’s organizing the tools or looking for a specific part they need. They treat her seriously and she appreciates not having to constantly fight for their respect. At the end of the day, Mr. Carson tells her she’s welcome anytime.

“You trying to steal my job, red?” Eddie teases, reaching over to ruffle her hair before they reach his van and she leaves his side to climb into the passenger seat.

“You bet I am.”

#wayne munson #eddie munson #mechanic!eddie #mechanic eddie munson #Max Mayfield #stranger things

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