#teh fics

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello! Sooo...The bonfire scene... It's not really play on words when I say my HEART IS ON FIRE BECAUSE OF IT. So I was wondering if you had any fics about this scene. Cheers! 🐺💙

Hey Lovely!

Ah, I THOUGHT I did a list before but apparently not, and I am dumb and didn't tag proper. There might be some bonfire stuff on this list: The Empty Hearse-Related Fics

Anyone able to offer us a few??

[rrat-king]

hey so what if i throw up

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Ok Wild Angsters, you wanted a continuation, so here you go :)

Four already knew what he would be walking into. His phone had been blowing up for hours. He’d come in to work early. Whether he was assigned to take care of Wild or not was another matter - Vaati loved to try and take all the admissions, convinced he was the best nurse on the unit. If Four could just keep Vaati out of Wild’s room, he’d consider it a success.

When the charge nurse told him he would be admitting the trauma alert, he knew who he was getting.

Pre-admission jitters always made Four anxious, but this was an entirely other level of fear. He almost wanted to request a different assignment, but it was too late now. What if he couldn’t take caer of him because he was his friend? What if that impair his decision making? What if he just wasn’t skilled enough to handle it? He knew Ezlo wouldn’t give him an assignment he couldn’t handle, wouldn’t be there to support him, but still…

Four went over the supplies in his room once more. Safety checks were fine—they had suction, they had a bag valve mask, the code card was nearby—and he had all the supplies he needed. It was just a waiting game.

Four paced the unit at least three times before he looked at the OR status board again. Wild was still in surgery. He poked in his chart, glancing at injuries, looking at vital signs and anesthesia notes. The last update he saw was that Wild had gotten another unit of blood. Estimated blood loss so far was around 2200mL.

2200mL. That… wasn’t too terrible, Four supposed. He’d… seen worse.

Please don’t get worse.

Four knew for certain that Wild had been mass transfused in the ED. Warriors, his primary nurse when he was there, had told him as much. Between that and the multiple blood products he’d gotten in surgery, as well all the crystalloids he was likely getting as well…

Four took a breath. Then another. He grabbed his phone, texting Warriors. You doing ok?

Wars didn’t reply.

Four wasn’t entirely sure where everyone was at this point. Hyrule had stayed at the hospital, lingering in the emergency department and then the operating room waiting area, but Four hadn’t seen him since he’d clocked in. Warriors and Legend should be getting off shift now, but whether they were going to stay up was another matter. Time was obviously in the OR (Wild’s wreck had been around 10pm, he’d arrived in the ED around 10:45, and he’d been stabilized for surgery and gone to the OR by around midnight - it was 7am now… he wasn’t sure how long this was going to take, but it couldn’t be much longer). Malon should be getting on shift now as well - she had come in last night when everything had gone down, alongside Twilight. Wind had been cautiously left out of the loop until Wild had gone to surgery, simply because nobody had really had much information at the time, so no one wanted to worry the kid until they could figure things out. Everyone had their hands full as it was. But by now, Four knew Wind was either in the OR waiting room, harassing every respiratory therapist he knew, or in the hospital library pacing anxiously. As for Sky, the last Four heard he was bouncing between different people, checking in on everyone.

He clicked through more anesthesia notes, looked at flow sheets for blood products. There wasn’t much to go on, as charting was sparse. What Four did know was that Wild had been obtunded, got mass transfused, had gotten a chest tube, had been intubated, blood was evident in his abdomen, and he had an open femur fracture. He’s been taken to Time’s OR for a ex-lap. Head CT had shown a bleed, and they were monitoring it. That was all the information Legend had told the group when he’d had a moment to spare.

Four’s vocera activated, telling him he had a call from the charge nurse. When he answered, he was told Malon had called and said they’d be finishing up in about thirty minutes and were likely to come up open.

Why was he coming up with his abdomen open? When had they gone from exploratory laparotomy to a full on open abdomen?

Ten minutes later, Malon called back to give report. When Four answered, the first thing he asked was, “How’s he doing? Is he okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Malon said, even though she sounded exhausted. “And he’s… hanging in there. I’ve seen worse, I’ll say that. I’ll give you the full rundown, okay?”

Four listened as Malon gave report, feeling his heart settled into his stomach, which was tying itself in knots. Multiple spots of bleeding, possible compartment syndrome in his abdomen, a likely kidney injury due to compression from the bleeding on some major vessels, a small hematoma in his brain… they’d had to call neurosurgery to do an emergency craniotomy out of overt concern of swelling, given that Wild had apparently had previous head trauma, based on what they saw in the OR.

Open abdomen, craniotomy, ICP monitoring, bleeding, one chest tube… this was a disaster. Four swallowed as he wrote, feeling his hand shake a little as his heart raced. He was not qualified enough to be admitting this. He was not.

But the turnaround on his unit was pretty insane, and he was the most experienced nurse on the unit today. At least Ezlo was charge; he knew he’d be well supported.

This was a nightmare. But Four had dealt with nightmares, and he would deal with this. He wasn’t going to screw up taking care of any patient, but especially his friend.

Sighing, he hung up the phone after thanking Malon, pushing worries for her and Time aside, trying to focus on what he would need, who he should grab to help him, and how he should prep his room.

It was time to get to work.

When everyone arrived from the OR, Four made brief eye contact with Time. He couldn’t read much from the man, who was stone faced, aside from the exhaustion evident in the dark circles under his eyes. Four got to work quickly, assessing Wild from head to toe as he looked to see what IV medications he was on. A coworker wrote the note while Ezlo helped detangle his lines (the OR always brought up a mess, after all). Time gave an overview of the surgery, and Four listened along as he checked pupils, as he zeroed the arterial line and the ICP monitor, as he listened to lung and heart sounds, as he checked the chest tube and stripped it with his fingers to ensure patency, as he checked peripheral pulses, as he looked at the abdominal dressing to get a baseline in case there was swelling from bleeding later. One of the techs connected the chest tube to wall suction, and Four looked over his drips. Only having levophed at 2 wasn’t terrible, and he was getting a unit of red blood cells, which was in a transfusion set that was y’d to some lactated ringers fluid. He was on propofol for sedation. Another nurse grabbed a blood gas from his arterial line and sent off labs. His foley he had was temp sensing, and Four quickly ascertained that Wild was cold, so he set up the blanket warmer and covered his friend up.

His friend. His friend.

Four shook his head. He had to focus.

As Time left the room, he put a hand on Four’s shoulder, making him freeze. The surgeon didn’t speak, just locking eyes with him. Four wasn’t entirely sure if it was for his own benefit or not. But he had no more time to let his emotions make any decisions for him. He nodded to the doctor, who nodded in return, and then the two went their separate ways.

This was going to be a long day.

[flying-cat]

Preparing myself to read a Persona 5 fic because it sounds super interesting but Maruki is a tagged character which means there's like a 70% chance that he's being mischaracterized

[helloliriels]

ANTAGONISH

"As I was walking up the stair,

. I met a man who wasn't there.

He wasn't there again today.

. I wish, I wish ... he'd go away."

. - William a Hughes Mearns

.

John had stepped into the flat only a handful of times since Sherlock's demise.

The pain of memories ... happy, whole, perfect memories ... too much to bear.

It was empty now. Their flat.

. Theirs.

. And it had been.

Once.

.

John steeled himself for what he was to face - going up those seventeen steps ...

The unshakable feeling that if he was just to turn around ... ?

Sherlock would be right behind him.

Coming up the stairs.

That if he turned back around ... Sherlock would be before him.

Beckoning him home.

.

John huffed a laugh.

Foolish.

His childish imagination.

But the last time he had been here, he could have sworn ...

.

He took one last look around to confirm that the hall and the landing were, in fact, empty.

Then he took a firm step forward. One.

Then two. Three.

.

He paused.

The hair on the back of his neck rising.

Shaking his head against the urge to look.

.

Don't turn around ...

. Don't turn around ...

. Don't turn.

.

He took another step.

Willing himself to keep moving.

.

A creak on a stair below him.

He isn't there ...

.

The echo of a step ...

Stop it!

.

John froze. Willing his eyes to stay downcast on his own shoes. He studied them. As worn and haphazard as his hope ...

Then forced himself once more, to move.

.

Three more steps. Two more steps. One.

His hand reached out for the door to 221B.

He took a deep breath.

.

This time the step behind him on the stair, was unmistakable ...

As was the fall of a large hand onto the wooden railing below.

.

"Sherlock?"

.

John spoke the name aloud before he could stop himself.

The stairwell was silent.

John's grip on the door handle tightened.

The tears stinging at the corners of his eyes ...

.

He took another deep breath.

His imagination.

Just his imagination ...

A wild, hopeful, god damned wishful and desperately-longing-for-all-of-this-to-be-just-a-magic-trick imagination ... begging the universe not for an empty stairwell ...

... but for an empty grave.

.

"I asked you for one more miracle," John told the air.

Oddly. The confession seemed to help quiet his nerves.

He looked up. Pinpointing the light of the setting sun.

"I asked you not to be dead."

He knew the words were final. Closure.

.

Somehow ... the air in the hall itself, held its breath ...

.

Then he heard a gasp.

And a heavy step below him.

Accompanied by the very real feeling ... Unmistakable.

That of a warm hand moving along a polished wooden rail. The slightest friction echoing up the stairs ...

.

John tried to steady his heart rate. His pulse thrumming in his ears, nearly drowning out the sound ... If it even had been real ...?

Sherlock's voice broke the silence next, barely a whisper ...

. "I heard you."

.

It sounded unsteady ... shaky ...

. fragile ... ?

Like a ghost.

.

But the next thing he heard was a very real hiss of pain, shattering his illusions ... even as he felt the thud of a body collapsing onto the stairs below.

John was down the stairs in seconds.

Gathering the long-missing detective into his arms. Every sense taking in and cataloguing what his eyes could not yet believe ...

(... continued below the cut)

"Sherlock? Oh, God - Sherlock!" John cradled his friend closer, rocking him into a better position where he could check him for wounds ... for anything he could do to help alleviate his pain ...?

He couldn't make out was cause of Sherlock's distress, but the man was fading into unconsciousness.

"Just ... hold on, Sherlock!" John commanded hauling Sherlock up into his arms.

Despite Sherlock's thin stature, he had been almost pure muscle before, but now ... John didn't want to think about how Sherlock could have lost this much weight in the time he had been away?

He was real. He was here. That was all that mattered.

John found the strength to carry whatever weight Sherlock had, gladly.

.

Upstairs, he tucked Sherlock into a bed that lay fitted and ready for use as if he had never left it ... and then stared at the sight in wonder.

Sherlock was alive. Sherlock was home.

John felt Sherlock shift and those crystal blue eyes blinked open for a moment. He could see Sherlock fought against the sleep that desperately wanted to overtake him.

How tired was he ... ?

John shushed him and managed to settle him back down. Watching as his friend's demeanor relaxed. His eyes closed, and his breathing evened out ...

Seconds passed. Minutes.

Maybe hours.

When John felt Sherlock's hand reach out in his sleep ... and grasp for his hand.

"... John, I ..."

The baritone voice poured into John's veins. Hot liquid. More valuable than blood. More heady than pure oxygen. Speeding up his heart rate again ...

"... I heard you," Sherlock sighed with relief, "I heard you ..."

.

John sighed too.

. Sherlock was dreaming.

This time ... John knew he wasn't the only one wishing for an empty grave. A successful magic trick.

They were both experiencing a miracle.

John gripped Sherlock's hand firmly, caressing the knuckles as he watched his miracle ...

. Sleep.

.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @whumptober

@johnlocky @fluffbyday-smutbynight @totallysilvergirl @gregorovitchworld @lisbeth-kk @john-smiths-jawline @chinike @rhasima @calaisreno @discordantwords @raina-at @kettykika78 @khorazir @hasenkind687 @iwlyanmw @missdeliadili @safedistancefrombeingsmart @iamjustreading @jobooksncoffee @topsyturvy-turtely @keirgreeneyes @peanitbear @amyreadsandstresses @shiplocks-of-love @caffeinatedanxiouscucumber @timberva @colourfulwatson @arwamachine @peageetibbs @meetinginsamarra @whatnext2020 @purplevatican @ineffableuser @estrella-creek @k2ntwo @kaursblog11 @mrb488 @justanobsessedpan @gaylilsherlock @sarahthecoat @7-percent @lillysliterature @ninasnakie @the-reading-lemon @a-victorian-girl @wizama @jawnscoffee @13monkton ... I'm getting back into writing, go easy on me!

[kindaasrikal]

How tf did this fanfic actually reach 5k words already on chapter one and its not even half way completed.

The things i do for morro 😭

[wr0ngwarp]

and no promises were kept

2024 OFF FANART JUMPSCARE. every time i think too hard about hugo i crumple up and die. read the fic i wrote abuot him also

[fence-time]

Handful o’ drawings based off of @a-plethora-of-peters ‘s So much for stardust au

[shibara]

Ok, so, for a while now I've been inhaling husborth's fics, and a few weeks ago it reached the quantum stage where so much fic had entered my brain, art had to come out.

This is a bit of a collage of my favourite scenes from Mythology, a fic series I cannot recommend enough if you want to have MASSIVE FEELINGS, and read about complicated family reunions and the aftermath of highly dubious medical procedures. There's something in the looped patterns in which themes move in those fics that made me want to work in circles. Little phrases and ideas return over and over, taking the story back and forth until it reaches the end and I think that was great.

@husborth thanks so much for writing these fantastic stories and for sharing them with us all. They've given me a fuck ton of hours of happiness and lit up my art brain like a little bonfire ^ ^

[alcoholicweiwuxian]

does anyone know that wangxian fic where wei wuxians body starts changing from mo xuanyu's back to his original one ? i need to read it. for my agonies. but i cant find it :(

EDIT: found !! Saw My Life in a Stranger's Face by timetoboldlygo

[inevitably-johnlocked]

raina-at said: Prism by @agrlsname  has this exact premise. Also, my Sci Fi AU Spare Parts had them together before Reichenbach, but there's no girlfriend. Link to Prism: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14396520/chapters/33245244 Link to Spare Parts: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43160955/chapters/108474531

Spare Parts by Raina_at (E, 63,497 w., 10 Ch. || 24th Century / Futurism AU || Post TRF, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Science Fiction) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them. Part 1 of Realigning Gravity

Prism by agirlsname (E, 29,337 w., 56 Ch. || Post TRF, Reunion, Brief John/Mary, Epistolary, Texting, Sexting, Bed Sharing, Infidelity, Mary is Not Nice, Anal Sex, Declarations of Love, Dancing Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending) – If Sherlock and John were a couple before the fall - what would it be like when Sherlock came back? Part 3 of The Secret Blog of Dr. John H. Watson

-------

Thank you so much, Raina!

Hello, Steph. I hope all is well with you.

Do you happen to know of any fics in which John and Sherlock were dating previous to the Reichenbach Fall (excuse me if I spelt that wrong). Like, Sherlock comes back to find John with his new girlfriend? I had this thought a while back and I just wanted to know if anyone had written something similar. Thanks!

Hey Lovely!

Ah, things are doing alright, actually, thank you for asking!

Well, I do have the fics that are loose adaptations of S3, which follows with your prompt technically, LOL:

Post-TRF Divergence

Reunion and Other Post TRF Fics

Reunion and Other Post TRF Fics Pt. 2

Reunion and Other Post-TRF Fics Pt. 3

The Empty Hearse-Related Fics

Nothing immediately comes to mind but you'll surely find related stories on those lists.

Anyone have a specific fic that people would like to recommend?

[3416]

desperately need a 40k fic about mitch's descent into bisexuality and how he starts having threesomes w steph and am34 to explore that in a safe space which creates a fucked up balance between the three of them like................... why is hockey rpf dying... what happened to our roots ,

[raina-at]

Tick, Tick, Tick, Boom

Tick, tick, tick.

“I’m sorry.”

Tick, tick, tick.

“What?”

“I can’t… I can’t do it, John. I can’t defuse it. I don’t know how.”

“That’s a load of bullshit if I ever heard one. You’re Sherlock Holmes, you can do anything!”

“You’ve always had too much faith in me, John. I told you, I’m not a hero. I’m not even a good man.”

John turns away, and Sherlock can see his shoulders shake with how tightly he tries to keep his emotions under control. He can also see that he’s beginning to seriously frighten John, and he feels sort of bad about it, but he’s come this far, and he’s committed now. He knows John needs a bit of a shake-up to forgive Sherlock, that he won’t do it as quickly as Sherlock wants to on his own terms. So a bit of adrenaline, a bit of a chase, and a bit of a scare should be enough to bring John’s emotional walls down far enough to admit what they both already know. John has already forgiven him, because that’s what John does.

“I’m sorry,” he says, upping the emotional pressure a bit. It’s the truth, too, which helps. He lets it flow into his voice, enhance his performance, how sorry he truly is, how much he fucked up, how much he misses John. 

John turns around, and the hurt in his eyes, the fury, is difficult to bear. “You don’t mean that,” John whispers. “You’re just trying to get me to say something nice.”

“I do mean it. I am sorry. Please forgive me,” he says, trying to show how much he truly means it. He’s manipulating the circumstances, yes, but he does mean every word he’s saying. 

“I don’t believe you. Why should I believe you? All you ever do is lie.”

“Please, John. Please. I do mean it. I am sorry. Please, forgive me. Please,” Sherlock says, pleading now, still on his knees next to the bomb. 

John doesn’t move. He looks straight at Sherlock, suddenly unafraid. “You want me to forgive you? You want me to believe you? Then I suggest you stop. Fucking. Lying.”

Tick, tick, tick. 

The only sound in the silence is the bomb, ticking down the seconds. John holds his eyes, so much raw emotion there, so much hurt and anger, so much distrust and wariness, all so very justified, and suddenly Sherlock realises what he’s doing. He’s frightening John half to death, he’s lying and cheating and manipulating, and he’s doing it all for one reason, and one reason only: Because he finds John’s continued anger inconvenient. Because actually earning John’s forgiveness is tedious.

What is he doing?

Without breaking eye contact, he reaches over and switches off the bomb. Because John is right. He can’t expect John to believe him if he keeps lying, keeps manipulating. He can’t trick John into forgiving him. He has to earn it.

The silence is absolute now. He holds John’s eyes, wills John to see. 

He swallows hard. “Please forgive me,” he says, finally, quietly, honestly.  “I never meant to hurt you. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s true. I had to jump, otherwise you would have died. I know it doesn’t make it any less awful, but I jumped to save your life. I swear that’s true.”

He can see John gauge his words. “Get up from the floor,” he finally says, hollow and raw and a ghost of his old self, but there’s some echo of John Watson in there, and it gives Sherlock hope. “You look like you’re about to propose. Or be sick. And I can’t deal with either right now.”

Sherlock huffs a laugh and gets off his feet, dusts his trousers and his coat off. 

“Why didn’t you take me with you?” John asks, still watching Sherlock warily. “Don’t you know that I would have gone anywhere with you?” he adds, voice almost breaking with suppressed emotion.

Sherlock swallows. “I can’t lose you.”

They hold each other’s eyes, raw and wary, but finally honest, finally real.

“Why?” John asks, so quiet it’s almost a whisper. “Why me? Why am I so special?”

Now or never, Holmes, he thinks. Be honest. Last chance.

“Because I love you,” he answers.

John looks at him, and Sherlock can see John process what he just said. It’s the longest three seconds of Sherlock’s life before John finally says, in a tone of exhausted exasperation, “You absolute fucking idiot,” and hauls him in for a kiss.

Sherlock’s impressive brain takes a few seconds to respond, then he winds his arms around John and kisses back like his life depends on it. He feels dizzy with relief and adrenaline and the feeling of John’s body against his, John’s lips, his tongue, his hands on Sherlock’s back, the smell of his skin.

The sound of sirens and boots in the distance announce that the Metropolitan police has finally deigned to show up. 

They break apart, but John keeps a hand fisted in the collar of Sherlock’s coat. “You did call the police, you fucking bastard,” he says, but he’s smiling a bit.

Sherlock shrugs. “Of course I did, I’m not a complete idiot.”

“I beg to differ, you’re the biggest moron on the planet,” John says, somewhat between teasing and serious. Sherlock guesses the adrenaline is making John feel as loopy as Sherlock feels. “For the record, if you ever die on me again, I’ll kill you with my bare hands, are we clear?”

Sherlock grins, because that’s the most John Watson sentence he’s ever heard in his life. “Kill me,” he scoffs, “that’s so two years ago.”

John bites down on an undignified, slightly hysterical giggle. “Shut up,” he says, “and kiss me again.”

Sherlock complies, and they kiss and kiss and kiss as the boots and the torchlight and the urgent voices move closer and closer.

“Now people will definitely talk,” Sherlock mutters against John’s lips.

“Let them,” John says, pulling Sherlock back in. “Let them.”

A bit if a TEH fix-it of a scene that always bothered me. Thank you @notjustamumj for the prompt, which was time.

Tagging the usual suspects @calaisreno @meetinginsamarra @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @lisbeth-kk @jrow @peanitbear @catlock-holmes and anyone else who wants to play.

I've written and posted a ficlet for fourteen days straight, hopefully I can keep it up until the end of the month ;-)

[suusoh]

okay girl I don't even know what you're on because recent johan liebert fans have been spoiled with the gift of actually having so much to read in the johan liebert x reader tags. Before you I swear to god everything was SO DRY AND EMPTY. We have talented authors and fics of course which we eat up in seconds, but its so few and far between that it feels like a dead fandom sometimes. The second you came in it feels like a dam of water exploding over a dessert.

ANNNOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

I WAS JUST KIDDING ON THAT POST BECAUSE I JUST FOUND IT FUNNY BUT NOW I LEGIT DON'T HAVE ANY WORDS IM SOO ????? FHDSKAFHJKASHF FFH MMNN ?/ ?? FHSN H GGGG2382392 FDFA34??????????? FHADHFHFHHHFJDAKFAHJFHAFH NCNDMSNF,MC,MSDFH653742I8746783264HFDSKFBJASLKFJKSCMMMAMAMAMA8F8888123897198381NDSFHJKASHFAR8920NFKLASN @#$$#%^^&%

[animangalover-writes]

Time for another dream i had, this time about zutara.

This one is a lot shorter, but essentially I had a dream where kataras whole family(which seemed to have more members then in the show) all live in the fire nation, hiding the fact that they're water tribe(rather, they were water tribe).

Katara is in some sort of relationship with zuko. It's unclear if she's his wife, his girlfriend, or his mistress, but its not hidden. People know about her and her relationship with him.

(Putting the rest under a cut so I don't clog up the feed lol)

If she was his mistress it's kinda held in that way that kings had other women they'd sleep with along with their queen and it was just an accepted, albeit kinda shitty, thing to do.

Anyway, katara is also pregnant, which was kind of an underlying "plot point" and would return home to her family every day to check on them.

It's revealed here that katara is basically the only reason her family is doing pretty well for themselves. Her relationship with zuko means that they have enough to get by. It's also noted that her whole family(katara, sokka, their dad, their grandma, and some made up new family members) all live in one house. So its clear they're still kind of struggling.

It's also revealed, through a conversation with her grandma, that the only otehr reason katara is with zuko, is because it was part of a bigger plan. She and her family are part of a resistance against the fire nation, and when they realized zuko liked katara, wanted her to infiltrate and pretend to be in love with him.

The plan had clearly gone on longer then anticipated, for whatever reason, and katara is conflicted because she actually does have feelings for him now, not fo mention she's pregnant with his child.

There's a "scene" either at the beginning or after this reveal that shows zuko in a meeting with other fire nation officials, including his father and sister, and that either he was against one of their plans but is ignored or his plan gets shut down(I don't remember which). Katara always sits in on these meetings with him, and afterwards, as everyone is getting up to leave, she leans her forehead against his and whispers that everything will be alright. This is why we can tell she truly does care about him, to some degree. But it's also a moment showing potential manipulation, like shes pretending to care. It's supposed to be a little of both, she needs him to trust her but she does still love him.

After all of this, we cut to a scene in a forest/swamp. This part is kind of blurry in my head, but basically, it's a secret meeting. Katara is dressed similarly to the painted lady, her and a few other resistance members, including Sokka, Suki, and Hakoda, are planning an ambush on Zuko and his family, who are supposed to travel down a path nearby. Katara is a key part of this plan, as she's the only waterbender, and she knows this. She nods along to everything regarding the plan and she goes over important points herself as well. But as everyone else continues talking, katara is having doubts. She loves Zuko. She's about to have his child. She cares for him. But she needs to free the world from the fire nations clutches as well. She doesn't want to kill Zuko, but she has to in order to help others. She's hesitating.

They continue with the plan anyway, and through the foliage that katara and the others are hiding in, we see a carriage making its way down the path. Zuko and his family(or at least his father) are in there.

Everyone is getting ready to fight, to jump out and attack. We see a close up shot of Katara, conflicted. She's still not sure if she can go through with this, if she can kill Zuko.

And then I woke up.

[iamthecomet]

𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘚𝘪𝘹: 𝘋𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘌𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘖𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴' 𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦-𝘜𝘱

Rating: G Pairing: Sunshine/Aurora Word Count: 783

Many thanks to @forlorn-crows for making Mushy May a thing. Divider by @ghuleh-recs

“Ok, now close your eyes.” 

Sunshine does. Trying not to squeeze her eyes shut, or flinch, when Aurora gets close with the brush. She’s not used to having someone else do this for her. Can do her own make-up with practiced ease. But what Aurora wants to do, and what Sunny usually does for herself are in different leagues. 

“Please tell me it isn’t neon blue.” 

“It’s not neon blue,” Aurora promises, and Sunny feels the soft bristles of the brush press against her eyelid. She’s always followed a formula when she’s done her own eyeshadow. A  neutral base color, and something shiny and light in the center for a highlight. Aurora does her own make-up a little more extravagantly. And when she’d begged Sunny to let her do her make-up for this fancy dinner the cardinals are throwing, Sunny couldn’t say no. Not when Aurora looked at her with big blue eyes, and batted those, definitely fake, eyelashes. 

It doesn’t matter that the make up will be hidden behind her mask most of the night. Aurora cannot be stopped. And Sunny wouldn’t dream of trying. 

The cool pad of Aurora’s finger follows the brush. Dabbing at the inner corner of each eye. Then the brush is back on the other edge, then the finger. Sunny takes a deep breath and looks at the inside of her eyelids. She learned a long time ago to trust the process. And despite her worry about neon blue eyeshadow–she trusts Aurora to make sure she doesn’t look ridiculous. 

“Just blending, and then eyeliner, and then you can open.” 

Sunshine hums an affirmation. “Feels nice.” 

“Good, it should. It’s ok to let someone else take care of you, you know.” 

“Is that what this is?” 

The wet slide of the eyeliner pen almost makes Sunshine flinch, she manages to keep herself still as Aurora works. It’s hard. But the last time she flinched when someone was holding an eyeliner pencil near her eye she almost got stabbed. She isn’t willing to risk it again. 

“Yes.” Aurora says firmly. 

“It’s just make-up.”

Aurora makes an indignant little huff, and Sunshine wants to open her eyes to see the adorable face that accompanies it. But she knows better. She waits. 

“And,” Sunshine continues, “you asked me to do this and–”

“Yeah, for you, because you deserve to let someone else do something nice for you for a change. You’ve been here holding down the fort, making sure Aether didn’t go insane while we traveled the world. You deserve a break.” 

Sunshine hadn’t thought about it like that–at least not much. Staying home never felt like work. Touring always did. But she had needed to keep things together. Had to step in for a few summonings when they needed some new lesser ghouls. Had to bend Imperators ear, and make sure Aether fed himself and slept instead of spending every waking moment in the infirmary. She doesn’t know how to respond to that, doesn’t know how to deal with the way it constricts her chest. 

Aurora wants to take care of her–and this is one of the ways she knows how. Sunshine can’t help the way her lips pull up. 

Aurora sweeps eyeliner over the other eyelid. 

“Open.” 

Sunshine does, blinking against the harsh lights that line Aurora’s vanity. Aurora’s brushing at her cheeks now–blush, or maybe highlighter? Bronzer? Sunshine never really bothered to learn the difference. The eyeshadow isn't neon blue. It's peachy turning to rust at the outer edges, almost neutral except for the shimmery shade in the corners of her eyes. It melds so well with Sunshine's natural coloring that it gives her pause. Does she really look like this? Is she really this pretty.

Sunshine looks over at Aurora, at the way her forehead creases when she focuses. Sunshine wants to surge up and kiss it away. 

“Thank you,” Sunshine says finally. Catching Aurora’s free hand in hers so she can kiss her knuckles. 

“Don’t do that you’ll mess up the lipstick.” 

Sunshine smiles brighter, she reaches up to put her hand on the back of Aurora’s neck. She pulls her down, pressing kisses to her cheek, her forehead, the corners of her mouth. Leaving peachy stains across Aurora’s dusky skin. 

“Mmm, guess you’ll just have to reapply it for me.” 

Aurora groans, eyes rolling, but when Sunshine kisses her, sweet and indulgent, Aurora leans into with a little noise that makes Sunshine’s stomach swoop. 

“Fine,” Aurora says as she pulls back, reluctantly. “But just one time. After that you’re on your own.” 

“Better kiss me again before you fix it then,” Sunshine whispers into the scant space between them. 

“Yeah,” Aurora nods. “Guess I better.”