#time to write sequels!

[currentlyreadingawesomefanfics]

Somnolent Act One is officially complete! Stay tuned for Act Two let me know what you think of the ending and the series as a whole :]

[multch]

Caught.

Art the clown x Reader [18+]

CW: Smut\ afab Reader

Pt.1 (Thoughts)

Art just caught you red-handed pleasuring yourself but he doesn't seem to react… at first.

There stood Art the clown, leaning up against the wall with a shit eating grin- Oh God no.

Oh God no.

It was in this moment, you felt as small as a starved mouse. Has he always towered over you?

Holding your breath, your gaze hesitantly lifted to meet with his eyes.

Surely he couldn’t hear you in there… And obviously he couldn’t have been waiting outside the whole time.. right?

But what if he had. Would he be disgusted? His face contorted into a disturbed grimace. Could it change your relationship? Would he be so enraged as to consider you his next victim- ready to skin you with his bare hands. Gosh why did you ever think that was a good idea! 

Your lust was your hamartia- the trigger that would spiral into your gruesome demise; a death without an ounce of dignity.

It was as if that doorway was a picture frame holding- you- a moment frozen in time. Your face was flushed bright red and your chest heaved up and down as if you had just ran a marathon. 

Your eyes were wide in shock and pure terror.

As your gaze met his, you couldn’t help but sigh as he walked right past you. How could he be so calm? His smirk dropped as he practically shrugged you off as if you were translucent- as if you weren’t there…

What the hell?!

*

There it layed unfinished. It would only take you a few minutes to stitch back up the final rip.

Across your desk were numerous tools you used throughout the night; The jacket you worked on mere hours ago, several pairs of sharp fabric scissors and an array of pins and needles strung with thread.

Despite the busy crowd of your work-station, you remained alone. 

Where could he be?

*

You looked up at the cheap clock sitting on the wall; 2:15am.

Clutched carefully in your hand, you carried his newly repaired costume with you. When you would return it to him, you would finally be able to go home- that is if you could find him…

It was your 4th time circling around the store and only one thought remained in your mind; 

Where on earth was that damn clown!?

Walking into storage, you were met with the familiar dark and dusty sight you dreaded seeing so often. Luckily, since meeting Art, you were able to evade stock retrieval long enough during your shifts to delegate it to him at night. Unfortunately, every once in a while you would still have to venture out back during the day when issues were too urgent. 

It wasn't rare for liminal spaces to creep you out so the avoidance was understood with a few simple honks of a horn. 

“Hey Art… you in here?” You shivered.

The room was cramped and lined with unstable wire shelving overflowing with cardboard boxes of various sizes. As there were no windows, who knew what could be hiding in the shadows. 

As your eyes adjusted to make out shapes within the darkness, your hand crept around the wall beside you for a light switch.

Aha! There it was.

As you went to flick the switch your heart suddenly dropped.

That’s not the switch… 

Two cold hands grabbed your arm in an instant, pulling you towards a firm chest.

Shit!

“Art! Oh my goodness I am so sorry,” you blurted, “I was just looking for the lightswitch, I didn’t mean to-” 

While what you could see was limited, what you knew was abundant. Your cheeks burned up as you realized what you just did. You didn’t flick the lightswitch, you just hit Art’s nipple- god that’s so embarrassing! You practically screamed at yourself.

What did you drag yourself into! First you think he caught you finger fucking yourself to the thought of him. Now you're in a dark storage cupboard and he's completely naked! 

It's not even his fault, you sighed. You're the one carrying his repaired clothes- Damn it! You should've given him something to wear- you work in a costume shop for christ’s sake!

There, you continued to ramble on and on. Uttering something about an extra Santa costume. Suddenly, you gasped as Art pulled you closer towards himself.

Oh.

Seems like Art noticed your distraction and gave you something else to think about. Yes, he was naked but that didn't interest you when you knew you could lean into the tenderness of his sharp touch.

It ran through you- that burning, stinging sensation everywhere his skin touched yours. He was frozen. He kept pulling you closer into his chest like he needed you to survive. Like your warmth was addictive.

His arms wrapped around you like a snake while he tucked your legs between his thighs.

You looked up at him only to be met with the same shit-eating grin as last time.

What a pervert.

He was infectious. Once you had laid eyes on those disgusting tar black teeth and dark doe eyes, it was as if a command came over your soul. The corners of your lips unconsciously lifted into a smile. Maybe you would take advantage of this proximity for once…

Laying a quick peck on his bottom lip, you chuckled as you knew his facepaint had transferred to your own.

Art always knew how to make you laugh as he reared back to make an exaggerated shocked face. Quickly, he returned the offer by giving you a toothy grin before smashing his lips into yours.

Driving your bodies forward and away from the initial wall, Art bites your bottom lip as a plea for entry. Your back arches against the shelving as he pushes into the kiss. You let him- loving each and every second of pure bliss. 

His tongue explored every inch, every tooth, every surface. It felt like you two stayed like that for eternity. It was as if once you would open your eyes, the night would be long gone.

You winced when you were forced to pull yourself away- heaving large gasps for air. 

You couldn’t believe it. First thing you’re working a simple 9-5 and next thing you know you’re making out with the most infamous murderer in all of New York. The thought was enough to send a surge of energy rising through you.

But is this all? It’s been 3 whole years where you’ve spent countless nights fantasizing about and being subject to his mindless antics. 3 whole years. 

You swallow the lump in your throat as you turn back to Art, placing your palm against his hollow cheek. 

Whatever, you were happy to finally show your devotion to him at last…

As your lips hover over his, you gaze into his eyes. Pitch black with not a soul in sight, yet a carefulness he held while looking back at you. Back at you until… 

You felt a strange sensation graze against your thigh.

It was in the moment you learnt it was possible for the white clown to turn a subtle shade of pink. 

His eyes dodged down as he seemed to shuffle slightly further away. Choosing to hide in the shadows again, Art took a couple hefty steps backwards until all you could make out was the outline of his prominent features within the shadows.

“Oh shit..” you uttered under your breath. Art was hard. Oh my goodness, Art was hard and embarrassed. 

Weighing up the pros and cons, you quickly bit the bullet and made up your mind. You were going to take that risk even if it could cost you your life. Art was everything you wanted and more. He had been so helpful over the past few years, you thought he deserved a small favor in return.

Stepping across the small storage room, you land in front of him- placing your hands on his chest. His skin was frigid and without a pulse.

“I can help you with that,” you whisper into his ear.

Despite the quick shocked expression Art played with, it was as if you caught his sincerity for a second before he snaped back into miming an over-emphasized swooning motion; fanning himself with his hand before pretending to faint.

His eyes stare far into yours as if seeking reassurance before acting on his own accord.

You nodded. Falling to your knees, you steadied yourself with both hands holding onto his legs. 

There it was. 

While you had seen it plenty of times, you had never imagined it from this angle. It was ample in length and wide in thickness. The sight was enough to make your mouth water.

You carefully grip the base and work your hands up and down his shaft before placing it in your mouth.

Paying attention to every ridge and bump, you slide your tongue across his length. As you begin bobbing your head back and forth, you look up to find Art’s embarrassment is long gone.

His eyes are shut tight and his mouth gapes open like he's lost for words. (if he had any, that is)

While you pulled closer and closer towards the base of his cock with every thrust, Art put his hands on the crown of your head, pulling you further into him.

Sliding down your throat, you gagged as Art thrusted his shaft into the roof of your mouth. 

For someone so shy before, he’s taking control of this alot more than you expected..

Drool pools at the corners of your mouth, dribbling slowly down your chin. Art takes notice and drags his hand down to wipe it with his shaky thumb.

Fuck- he was so far down the back of your throat, you swore it was a miracle you were till breathing by now.

Thick white ropes coated the walls of your mouth. The action sent you bucking back as it forced you into a coughing fit. God was he bitter tasting.

He flung back before patting your head. It felt degrading- almost as if you were his pet in need of praise after completing a trick.

Lifting your gaze to look up at him, he sends back a dramatic shocked face before shifting to his usual wide grin.

As you stuck your tongue out, you chuckled before swallowing his seed.

*

Zipp! And that was the last of it. All that was left was to lock up the store and you were done. Your desk was cleaned, your repairs were finished and your clown friend was very happy. 

While you loved your job, you were terribly excited to finally go home and have a long rest (maybe even a sweet treat too)

You let out a chuckle as you watched the live footage displayed on the security cameras. Despite being colorless and grainy, the expression on Art’s face was clear as day. There, he waved into the camera- his face imitating the pure joy of a small child* in a candy store; with a large smile and immense energy radiating from him.

(*As pure as he can get considering he’s a murderous hell spawn, but we won’t talk about that…)

He tipped his tiny top hat towards the camera, then swiftly turned on his heels to face the exit.

Ding! Ding! Ding! The bell rang out as Art made his exit, and it was as if he had suddenly vanished.

You couldn’t wait for tomorrow… 

Maybe work could be a bit more exciting from now on, you thought.

[cheriboms]

since manfred is learning to read (+ speak), and spite/cole both like being read to, i thought it only made sense theyd have a little unofficial book club :) unfortunately some picks are more... ahem... educational... than others >_>

[zepskies]

More of This

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: Welcoming Russell home, where he belongs.  

AN: Here it is - bonus drabble time!~ This can be a stand-alone, but it’s really a snippet missing from Lost Time in the Every Second Counts-verse. Using the GIF above from 2x02 specifically for the hair flip. It did things to me... 😮‍💨 (But there are NO spoilers for 2x02).

Shoutout to @impala-dreamer who helped inspire this in our @jacklesversebingo chat. 😂

Word Count: 900

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Smut and feels, small tinge of angst. Russell's hair. Tattoos. Everything really.

💜 Series Masterlist  

“Welcome home,” you whispered into his mouth.

All Russell could offer was a breathless sound, caught somewhere between an agreement and a groan of pleasure. He was being treated to a feast of the eyes as you rode him slow in the comfort and safety of your bed.

Your lips didn’t quite manage to connect with his in a kiss, with heavy breaths in between and a deliberate roll of your hips against his. He’d been letting you control the pace of him sheathing home with your every drawn-out thrust.

He was enjoying the show—your hair wild, your pupils blown wide with arousal, being able to palm at your breasts and tease your hardened nipples, kissing your flushed, dewy skin.

But you could feel him getting desperate. His hands moved down your body over soft curves, just for his fingers to squeeze into the flesh of your hips and ass, trying to ground himself in you. His eyes shut and his head fell back into the pillow. You bent down and fastened your lips to his neck, kissing and sucking hard there. He slid a hand up your back and buried it in your hair.

“Takin’ me so well, baby,” he said, his voice deep and rough, and a bit strained. “But you’re torturing me a little bit.”

You giggled breathlessly into his neck. Your tone was playful and coy when you replied, “What do you mean?”

You made a show of raising your hips, letting his hard length slide out of your wet heat all the way to the tip, before you slowly sunk back down. You shifted your hips along the way, until the thick head of him was nestled deep and pressing against your cervix. You both panted for breath. Even your arms were shaking while holding yourself above him.

“Yeah, think you’re trying to kill me,” Russell uttered. “Suppose there’s worse ways to go…”

“Fuck,” you muttered, releasing into a moan. The languid drag of his cock against your inner walls was good, but nowhere near enough at this point.

Maybe you were done teasing him, as well as yourself. Maybe you were done punishing him for taking one contract job after another, taking so long to get back, and making you worry about him and his safety. Your lips made their way back to his cheek, laying a sweeter kiss there.

“Okay.” You smiled against his skin. “How about you fuck me like it’s been three months, not three weeks. I wanna feel you come hot inside me—”

Russell wouldn’t even wait for you to finish the dirty whispers already setting his blood alight. His tattooed arm wrapped around your back and pulled you flush against his chest. He manhandled you seemingly without much effort, twisting you onto your back and having you laid out underneath him.

You let out a huff as your back met the mattress and made the springs squeak. Your head barely made it onto the pillow where his head had been, but your boyfriend wasted little time in grabbing your thighs and angling you just right, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist. (You didn’t need any encouragement.) He took you hard and deep, making sure he hit that sensitive spot inside you with every thrust.

You gasped and clung to his broad shoulders.

“Right there, sweetheart?” he said near your ear. His voice was rich and gravel. A shiver ran through your body, goaded along with every other sensation he was drawing out of you. You couldn’t even speak. Just a nod and a broken, desperate whimper. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip.

You were holding on for the rest of the ride. If nothing else, Russell had precision, and he was a master of his craft. And that was whatever he set his mind to.

His hand slipped between your bodies for a moment, his fingers searching, and finding, then massaging your swollen clit between thrusts. You cried out in his ear and damn near choked on your own breath, your nails biting into his shoulders. It didn’t take much longer for that tightening coil in your core to finally snap, your inner walls throbbing around his cock.

A curse and a ragged groan fell from his lips as his body locked up on him as well. You felt his body stiffen and the warmth of his release deep inside you. The sensation elicited another shiver down your spine.

You were on birth control, but it still made you feel a bit wild sometimes, whenever he came inside you. You relaxed underneath him with your knees bent, your thighs a soft cradle for his hips.

Russell kept himself upright with his forearms resting on either side of your head. His long hair had slid forward, the brown silky strands tickling your forehead as his panting breaths mingled with yours.

You attempted to brush some of his hair back behind his ears, but it fell forward again, tickling your nose. Russell allowed it on purpose, making you laugh lightly. He grinned in response, but he lowered further to capture your lips in a kiss. He didn’t mind this one being nice and slow.

Even when he parted from you, you still craved more of him. More of this.

You slipped a hand over his bearded cheek, an affectionate caress. A softer smile drew across his lips. He rested his forehead against yours, and he chuckled a little.

“It’s damn good to be home.”

AN: 🫣 Lol hope you enjoyed this one! ❤️‍🔥

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@samanddeaninatrenchcoat

[gothic-btch]

Kaeya tries too hard with getting Albedo to like him, overly flirting, touching, seeking him out, obsessing over him and trying to always be around him

Albedo tries hard to distance himself from Kaeya bc he doesn't know what the hell this feeling inside of him is but he's pretty sure literal butterflies have found their way into his stomach to torture him and somehow Kaeya's the one who did it to him

Diluc is pissed bc he thinks that Albedo is leading his brother on, and who does he think he is? So like the good big brother he is he goes to give Albedo the shovel talk and Albedo is all like "what's a crush" and Diluc realizes that he isn't a jerk, just dumb

Kaeya ends up giving up bc he's like, Albedo clearly doesn't like me, I don't wanna harass this dude plus I look desperate.

Diluc helps Albedo start reciprocating Kaeya's feelings, then they realize that he gave up so now they need a new plan. Except Diluc doesn't talk to his brother so he tries to hangout with him to get to know him better and Kaeya's all suspicious

Kaeya thinks that Albedo and Diluc have joined forces bc they both hate him and now feels super shitty and sad about it. Every time the two try to interact with him he thinks it's a plan to humiliate or hurt him and gets super depressed

Albedo and Diluc don't understand what they're doing wrong and amp it up 10× (now also trying to get Diluc and Kae to fix their relationship) and they just make everything worse

Klee is basically the go to vent person in all of this (not venting all their feelings ofc, but Klee is super helpful regardless) and through the power of Klee everything ends up perfect in the end

Diluc and Kaeya are brothers again, Kaeya and Albedo are dating, and Diluc and Albedo each earned a new friend

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

(The conclusion) Chapter 22: Aftershocks (end.)

Aaaaa This is it! The last chapter of Wobbly Hearts! You know when I started working on this I never thought it would get as long as it did but I’ve loved writing every word.

Enjoy the chapter! Signing off for the last time, this has been

[smilesrobotlover]

Talon has never been afraid of things that people were typically afraid of. He never understood the fear surrounding spiders—he only found them to be pests that needed to be put outside where they belonged, and he even found some of them cute. Talon never found water frightening, the dark was no issue to him, and he found tighter spaces more cozy than anything. He was scared of monsters, but that felt more like a valid fear since they could actually kill him. But everything else he never understood the fear others had. That is, until he was swept into a different world surrounded by men looking for their respective heroes of Hyrule. Talon discovered that he was terrified of heights. He’s never had to climb anything high up—back then he would have his wife reach high places for him. Now either Malon or Ingo took care of those problems for him since they were both taller than him. But being on this adventure, he had to face heights more times than he’d like, and every time he faced them, his legs would turn into mush and he’d struggle to stand on his own. He always tried to hide it since he already felt like a burden to the other men, but he couldn’t. It was all getting worse when the men found themselves in the mountains, inching closer to cliff-sides that made Talon dizzy. Rusl picked up on Talon’s nervousness and he rested his hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t like heights?”

Talon gave him a look and let out a shaky breath. “Y-you could say that.”

Rusl smiled. “It’ll be ok, we’ll take care of you. And besides, we have Kass here in case we fall!”

The blacksmith gestured to their feathered friend who was chatting with Benji, but it didn’t make Talon feel any better. He didn’t want to put any responsibility on Kass, and he definitely didn’t want to fall in the first place. As the men walked, Talon couldn’t help but notice the cliffside getting closer to them, and he felt himself pressing up against the rocky wall more and more the closer it got. The path turned rocky and rough, and the edge was inches away from his feet. Talon turned away from the cliff, hugging the wall as he shuffled forward. This slowed him down, and the others were far ahead of him, not seeming to care that one wrong step could send them to their death. But Talon didn’t care; he didn’t bother to call for them. He was just focused on his breathing and shuffling along the wall.

“Talon.”

The farmer flinched and looked to his side where Leon was standing, watching him worriedly. “S-sorry,” Talon apologized, and Leon waved it away.

“It’s alright, we just don’t want to accidentally leave you behind. Here,” Leon offered his arm for Talon to grab onto, “you can hang onto me, but the sooner we’re off this path the better.”

Talon let out a breath and complied, not caring that it was childish to do so. Leon walked slowly, yet with confidence as Talon stumbled along. It wasn’t like the first knight to slow down for him, but Talon was grateful for it. He peeked over Leon’s shoulder to spot the others already on the other side, with Rusl watching them anxiously.

“We’re almost there,” Leon assured, and Talon nodded.

“I’m so sorry about this—“ Talon started, but Leon stopped him.

“We all have fears, it’s normal. But that’s why we have each other. We don’t have to face them alone.”

Talon smiled at Leon and they pressed onward. He didn’t know how long they were going for, but it felt like forever. But Leon still held onto him as they walked, so he continued. Sudden shouting from the others made him and Leon pause.

“What’s going on?” He heard Leon yell, but he wasn’t able to hear a response before the sound of crumbling rocks was heard. Leon gasped and he spun around, covering Talon as small rocks and dirt fell on their head. Talon felt his stomach lurch as the mountain shook, and a loud crash was heard in front of them. Leon let go of him and he cursed under his breath. Talon opened his eyes only to see the path in front of them destroyed, and the others hidden by boulders.

“Oh goddesses,” he mumbled, and Leon cupped both hands around his mouth.

“RUSL! AMMON!” He shouted, and it was silent until the two heard a faint shout back. Talon let out a sigh of relief, but was returned to his own predicament. “Well, they’re alive,” Leon muttered, turning to him.

“W-what are we gonna do? The way forward is-is broken!” Talon cried, gesturing to the broken path. Leon hummed and walked towards the edge, then he gave Talon an apologetic look.

“It’s not a far jump…”

Talon’s eyes widened.

“No.”

Leon walked towards him, his hands up defensively. “Talon, that's the only way we can reunite with the others.”

Talon shook his head, but the mountain began shaking again, and another loud crash came behind them. To his horror, the other side was destroyed, and there was shouting from his friends again, this time with the clang of metal. They were being attacked.

Leon grabbed his arm and started to pull him towards the edge. Talon pulled back, stopping him in his tracks.

“Talon, we need to go. Now!”

“B-but—but we—“

“I know you’re scared, but we must get to the others or else we’ll be crushed by rocks!” Leon turned to the gap and ran towards it, jumping towards the other side. It didn’t seem to take much effort for him, but it didn’t make Talon feel much better. “Talon please!” Leon tried again, his hand extended. “It’s going to be ok, we’re close to the end!”

Talon swallowed hard, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He had to be brave—just this once.

The farmer started to slowly move towards the edge, his legs shaking uncontrollably as he shuffled. Parts of the cliffside began to give way, and it nearly made Talon fall to his knees, but with Leon pleading for him to hurry, he continued to move forward. He reached the cliff edge and he felt himself grow nauseous as he glanced over the edge. That was a mistake.

“Come on, Talon!” Leon pressed, his hand extended. Talon paused for a moment before letting out a breath.

“J-just give me a moment—“

“You don’t have a moment! Don’t think about the cliff, just jump!”

Talon swallowed again, his whole body shaking now. He shuffled closer and closer to the edge, feeling weaker each step he took. Leon was clearly growing impatient, but he gave Talon a confident look. He could do this. He had to.

“Run and jump, Talon,” Leon said, waving his arm towards him, and the farmer nodded. He just had to trust himself. Talon took a small step back and took a deep breath, then ran to the cliffside. But as his foot hit the edge, the ground beneath him crumbled, and he yelped as he began to slide over the edge. Talon’s hands were waving wildly, and he miraculously was able to grab onto something, stopping his fall.

“TALON!” The farmer looked up to see Leon reaching out for him, a more desperate look in his eyes. “Grab on!”

Talon was growing hysterical as the only thing stopping him from plunging to his death was his grip on the rocks embedded into the rocky wall. He squeezed his eyes shut, not trusting his strength to grab onto Leon.

“Talon please!”

The farmer looked up at Leon.

“It’s going to be ok,” the first knight assured, inching closer to him. “I won’t let go, just trust yourself, and trust me.”

Talon swallowed again, and he nodded. Using all the strength he had, he began to reach for Leon. Their hands were inches away from each other, and with one last effort, Talon swung himself, and their hands clasped together. Talon smiled relieved, as did Leon.

“It’s going to be ok,” he said again, starting to pull. But Talon heard something, an arrow shooting through the air, and Leon let out a pained yell as it was buried into his back. A sudden electric shock went through both of them, and Talon yelped as he lost all strength in his grip, and he let go of Leon’s limp hand. He could do nothing but watch as Leon and the path grew smaller and smaller as he plunged to the world below.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Talon awoke with a jolt. He instinctively started to feel himself, checking for injuries, but he found none. He let out a loud sigh of relief, rubbing his hand against his head as everything came back to him. Was it all a nightmare? He didn’t know what else it could’ve been—he fell. Not even a tough Hylian would’ve been able to survive a fall like that. Yet… it felt so real…

Talon rested his hand on his heart and attempted to slow down his breathing. Whatever it was, he was still worked up over it; beads of sweat were beginning to drip down his forehead, and his throat hurt as though he was about to cry. He glanced over to his left and found himself in a clearing surrounded by trees, but no one else was there. He frowned and turned his head to the other side and found a shallow spring with fairies gently floating around it. Yet no sign of anyone. He sat up and flinched at a sharp pain going through his ribs. He groaned and rubbed at the area, trying to breathe in a way to not make the pain worse. Why was he hurt? What happened? Where was everyone? Talon’s questioning thoughts were interrupted when he heard movement behind him, and he spun around only for his heart to stop at the sight.

A large man was watching him from the shadows of the trees. He had long white hair that sat on his shoulders, with strange markings decorating his cheeks and forehead. But what scared Talon the most were the bright, white eyes staring back at him. The man began to move towards Talon, and the farmer began to scramble away despite his aching side.

“N-no no no! Stay away! Please!” Talon begged as the man reached him in only a few strides, but he stopped in front him.

“Be at peace, Talon. I will not harm you,” the strange man said, his hand raised in a way to calm him. Talon’s mind went blank as he stared at the large man, his eyes feeling like they were popping out of his sockets.

“D-do I—do I know you?” He stammered, fearing to anger him. The man’s expression was blank as he stared back at him, but he shook his head.

“No. But I know you.”

That certainly didn’t tell Talon anything. He looked side to side again, hoping to find one of his friends, but he remained alone with the strange man who somehow knew him. He swallowed and sat up, once again cradling his side with a wince.

“Um… Who—who are you?” Talon tried again, and the man simply kneeled in front of him, his expression continuing to remain blank. He was silent for a moment, and Talon wondered if he even heard him, but he finally spoke up.

“I am called the Fierce Deity,” he answered.

“Oh.” Well that still didn’t answer anything for Talon. But he supposed it was better than nothing. “Well… Uh… nice to meet you then. Um… Can I just call you Fierce? Or… something?”

Fierce’s expression was making Talon grow uncomfortable. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking, or if he was thinking at all. Was he even a Hylian?

“You may call me whatever you like,” he said after a long moment of silence. Talon nodded, and he began to lean back, his whole body beginning to shake. He fell backwards and let out a sigh, staring at the sky. With this… Fierce Deity here… It was becoming harder and harder to explain the previous events as a dream. Fierce suddenly came into his view, and Talon’s eyes widened.

“Wh-what?”

“Are you alright?”

Talon let out another sigh, rubbing his ribs. “I–I don’t know. My ribs kinda hurt. And I’m confused. I don’t know where I am, I don’t know what happened to me, I don’t know how you know me or what you even are. I’m just—” Talon’s voice began to shake and he rested his hand on his eyes. “I’m so confused.”

Fierce’s eyes squinted slightly and he left Talon’s view. “I can explain everything to you Talon, but first—” A twinkling sound was heard, and Fierce entered his vision again, this time with a fairy. “Let’s heal your side.”

Talon frowned, but the fairy floated towards him before he could say anything. In a blink of an eye, the fairy swirled around him, and his side suddenly stopped aching. Talon sat up, staring at his side in surprise. He always knew about the fairies’ abilities to heal, but he never experienced such a thing himself. It was incredible. He looked around him but found that the fairy disappeared. He glanced up at Fierce confused, who picked up on his confusion.

“It’s alright, the fairy only needs to return to a great fairy to rejuvenate her power,” he explained.

Talon nodded and looked down at his side, still amazed by the missing injury. Goddesses, he almost wished he could do that as well.

“It is fortunate that you fell closeby to a fairy fountain,” Fierce continued to explain, and Talon froze. Fell. So Talon did fall, so he…?

“What happened?”

Fierce turned to him and once again kneeled down. “You died.”

Talon’s mind went blank. “What?”

“You died.” He repeated, hitting Talon harder the second time.

“I… died?” Talon repeated himself, feeling his stomach sink to the ground. He died. That fall killed him. How was he alive? Did the fairies save him? Did he die when he hit the ground? His friends…

Did they all think he was dead?

Talon began to grow nauseous, and he ran his hand through his hair. “I died…”

Fierce watched him silently as Talon continued to look down on himself. There was no evidence from the fall, save for his aching ribs, but the fairy healed that away.

“Is-is it true then?” Talon asked in a quiet tone, his voice shaking uncontrollably. Fierce tilted his head which was the first emotion he’s ever seen him express. “Is it true that fairies heal you, even after death?”

Fierce was silent for a moment. “Only immediately after you die. If you die long before you can get to a fairy, then you’ll need fairy’s blood.”

Talon felt the blood drain from his face. Fairy’s blood was extremely illegal in Hyrule. In order to use blood from a fairy, it would have to be killed. To kill a divine creature sent from the goddesses themselves was an act of blasphemy. Did Fierce… kill a fairy to save him?

“You… you didn’t…” Talon started, but he felt his stomach churn, and he covered his mouth, feeling like he was about to vomit. Fierce’s eyes squinted at him, once again showing his confusion. “You didn’t—you didn’t kill a fairy did you?” Talon was able to force out.

“No, you died as soon as I reached the fountain. The fairies wasted no time in helping you.”

Talon felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders and he let out a loud sigh of relief. “Thank the goddesses. I couldn’t live with myself if I was responsible for a fairy’s death.”

The corner of Fierce’s mouth was curled up in a smile, but it went away so quickly Talon thought he imagined it. “I could never harm Hylia’s creatures.”

Talon frowned. Hylia? “Right, well… Thank you for saving my life,” Talon finally said, and Fierce nodded.

“Of course. It is my desire to help Link and those he cares about.”

Talon frowned again. “So you know Link… How—How do you know him? How do you know me?”

“You are Malon’s father.”

Talon nodded slightly. “How do you know my daughter?”

“She is Link’s wife.”

“Ok… And how do you know Link?”

Fierce’s empty eyes stared at him, and Talon swallowed, wishing he could read what he was thinking.

“Link saved me from an eternal fate in Termina,” he finally answered.

It was Talon’s turn to stare. Termina. He’s heard that name before…

“Before I ever saw Link, I always believed that mortals were all the same,” Fierce began, his eyes half-closed as if he were looking down. “They are selfish, greedy, and cruel. They’ll lie to you to benefit them, they’ll steal from you, they’ll hurt you. They use you and then give nothing in return. They imprison you when you have done nothing but help them.” Fierce’s voice had a hint of anger that sent a chill up Talon’s spine. “Link taught me otherwise. When Termina was threatened with destruction, he was the only one who set out and did something about it. I watched him help countless people when it didn’t benefit him; I watched him express compassion that was lacking from other mortals, and I watched him defeat evil, and save Termina.”

Realization hit Talon. Termina. He remembered Link telling him a story about a moon falling in a land and him going back in time over and over again. He always chalked it up as a child’s imagination, but now… was it all real? Did Talon brush his previous adventures away because he didn’t believe him? Guilt crept up on Talon. It was no wonder why he stopped telling Talon his stories. Fierce picked up on his guilt and tilted his head.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing I just… I think I remember Link telling me about Termina… it’s… it’s real?”

Fierce nodded. “Link understands why you don’t believe him.”

Talon was taken aback. “Oh… well…”

“Do not feel guilty for not believing him.”

“… It probably felt like he had no one to talk to though…” Talon sighed. It was no wonder why Link was always so mature and jaded for a child. If everything he told him was true… poor Link.

“He has Malon.”

He supposed that was true, but regardless, he wasn’t there for Link like he should’ve been. He wondered if he would even want to see him again after this adventure…

“You have no idea how much you mean to him,” Fierce continued when Talon remained silent. “Everything you did for him, he cannot ignore it, nor can I.”

He didn’t feel like he deserved such talk. He didn’t even know why or how the deity knew about any of it. Fierce was large and stood out from the rest of the world like a sore thumb. How did he never notice him there, watching him and his family for the past fifteen years? The thought of it all was making him grow uncomfortable, so he decided to change the subject. “So… Termina… what happened after Link saved it?”

Fierce’s eyes went half closed again. “I’m not sure how he did it, but he left Termina, and he took me with him. I was doomed to remain in Termina forever, away from my Hylia. But because of him, I was able to return to her land.”

“You keep mentioning Hylia, is that a person?”

Despite having a blank expression, Fierce gave Talon a look as if he was stupid. “Hylia, the one who created your kind and Hyrule.”

Talon slowly nodded despite not understanding. He’s never heard of a Hylia who created Hyrule. He always thought it was three golden goddesses. If this Hylia created the land he called home, why hasn’t he ever heard of her?

“I could’ve left Link as soon as I was in Hyrule, but I instantly felt an emptiness where Hylia used to be. Judging by your lack of knowledge of her, I take it she no longer resides here?”

“Uh, no I guess not…”

Fierce stared long and hard at him before turning away. “I see. I was always curious since meeting Link, if Hylia’s influence on the world changed mortal’s nature. But, I suppose it makes sense that they were never influenced by the goddess herself. When Link returned to Hyrule he grew ill and didn’t have the strength to carry on. The mortals simply passed him by, which went against what Hylia believed in.”

Familiarity sparked in Talon. He remembered finding Link again in the middle of Hyrule field, burning up with a terrible fever. So Fierce was watching him the whole time. Where was he?

“You proved me wrong again, Talon. Not all mortals are selfish and greedy. Some are… good, and pure…”

“Wait, what? I proved you wrong? How?”

Fierce gave him another look. “You helped Link, and expected nothing in return.”

Talon frowned. “Is this about when I found him with a fever then? Trust me, I ain’t special for doin’ that.”

“You saved him, Talon. That’s not a small thing.”

“Oh come on! He was a sick kid in the middle of the field! Anyone would’ve helped him!”

“No. No one did.”

Talon froze. “What do ya mean no one helped him?”

“Like I said. The mortals passed him by. Link asked around Kakariko and Castle town for help, but he had no money. No one helped him.” Fierce’s voice grew angry again until his face turned to Talon fully. “You were the only one who reached out to him. He had given up at that point.”

Talon stared at him, shocked. It put everything from that time into perspective for him. Knowing Link, an eleven-year-old boy, tried to get help, but no one did? That didn’t seem possible, no one was that heartless.

“That’s how I know you. I saw the way you and Malon treated him. You may think you’re not a good person because you don’t believe him, but that does not erase all the good you’ve done for him. You restored my faith in mortals, and you saved Link. For that, I thank you.” Fierce bowed slightly. Talon felt his face flush and he turned away. He was starting to hate this praise. It almost felt wrong, especially from a deity.

“It… it really was nothin’. But… um… really I should be the one thankin’ you… for… you know… savin’ my life?”

Fierce squinted his eyes again. “You already thanked me.”

“Oh, well… It certainly doesn’t hurt to thank you again, now does it?”

Fierce stared blankly once again. “Why?”

“Well, like you said, it ain’t a small thing.”

Fierce stared for a moment, then turned away. “You mortals confuse me.”

Talon chuckled. “Well if it makes ya feel any better, mortals confuse me too.”

“But you’re a mortal.”

“Exactly.”

Though it was subtle, Talon could almost pick up an annoyed expression on Fierce’s face, and he couldn’t tell if he should laugh at it or not. They both remained silent for a while, until one more question went through Talon’s brain.

“What… are you?” He asked. Fierce looked contemplative as he looked down at his hand, and he glanced up at Talon.

“I’m not sure. I suppose I am what they call a deity. But I have no divine power unlike the others. A demon is a more appropriate thing to call me.”

Fear pricked at Talon’s chest and he turned away. “So you’re a servant to evil?”

For the first time, Fierce’s expression grew dark, and Talon leaned back. Oh no.

“I will never serve Demise,” he growled. Talon nodded, yet continuing to not understand anything he was saying.

“R-right! Well then… you’re no demon!”

“That’s what we were called in Termina.”

“Well, lucky you, this ain’t Termina.”

Fierce’s expression softened and he didn’t press any further. Talon supposed no one knew what Fierce was, but he began to feel less of a threat to him the more he talked to him. Sort of.

“You should get some rest,” Fierce finally said, standing up. “Fairies don’t rejuvenate energy.”

“Oh,” Talon looked down at himself, admittedly still feeling exhausted from before. But… “My friends will be out lookin’ for me. A-and the puppeteer too… I reckon he’s the reason I fell down the mountain.”

“I will keep watch. But you must restore your strength if you are to continue on.”

Talon sighed. The others could be in danger—Leon could be in danger, and he’d be none the wiser. But his heavy eyelids fought against him and he simply laid back, staring sadly at the sky. His mind began to run rampant over everything that happened to him, and he was struggling to calm himself down so he could rest. He died, he was resurrected, Leon was shot with an arrow, and his friends were either dead, fighting, or captured. How was he going to reunite with them? Will Kass fly down to search for him? Will they try to move down the mountain to find him? Or will they continue on, with Talon completely separated from them? Anxiety pricked at Talon; he couldn’t travel alone, even with a deity at his side. He was a farmer, not a traveler. He wouldn’t survive on his own and he wouldn’t know what to do if something happened. His heart already ached for his home and for his daughter, he didn’t feel like he could handle anymore stress. Tears pricked at his eyes and he rubbed his face, feeling a sob threatening to escape his throat. He was spiraling; no matter how much he tried to not think about his current situation, he couldn’t help but only think about it. It was all too much—this whole adventure was too much. Just as he felt himself go into panic, a soft melody suddenly filled the air. It was a gentle, rising melody that put Talon’s mind at ease. He felt his body relax and his eyes grow heavy, and a thought went through his head.

You’re going to be ok.

Talon took in a shaky breath, tears threatening to spill, but the gentle melody continued playing, and he was finally able to fall asleep.

[phantastragoria]

I can NOT remember if i already posted this here (it's old) but I didn't see it after a quick skim and I need to start cross-posting things everywhere more consistently so Have These Guys.

(Obviously inspired by that one ○lilalienz4ever image)

[c-rowlesblogs]

the last time I made a post about a character type I really like it went well, so here's another one: I love a character who is a piece of shit loser.

Let me explain: a very specific kind of piece of shit loser. This is a character who is almost never (at least not at first) a major protagonist or a major villain. They might be a mercenary or thief or black-hat hacker or in some other sort of antisocial "bad guy" line of work. They are some sort of henchman, or at least have strong henchman energy: dangerous and/or talented in specific skills perhaps, but also, importantly, undeniably a loser. Their personality sucks. They're uncharismatic and unpleasant. The heroes interact with them only when they must-- and this character deliberately cranks up the cynicism around especially sunny or optimistic heroes. They know the world is a cold, hard place, and the only thing they trust is cold, hard cash (if they're even getting paid for this shit). Things like "hope" and "friendship" are for suckers.

Until... somehow, some incident or confrontation or compounding sequence of events puts a crack in their armor. It's a crack where the light can get in-- and also, alarmingly (to others and to them), shine out. It turns out this piece of shit loser had a little spark of goodness buried deep inside all along, and no matter how much they dig in their heels and insist they don't care, their conscience is steadily pulling them over to the "good" side, and it's winning. And the heroes know it, too: this character might still be a piece of shit loser, but now they're their piece of shit loser, and there's no going back.

[astrobei]

mike developing a propensity for laying with his head on will’s chest while they’re alone because he likes listening to will’s heartbeat and feeling how solid and steady and safe will is under him — we know her, we love her, i will be thinking about this concept until i die.

more specifically, though, the first time they fall asleep this way — mike, dozing off on will’s chest, feeling will’s heartbeat slow and his breathing even out and jolting awake, panicked for the briefest second before he realizes what’s happening. the movement startles will awake too. he blinks and looks up, a little disoriented, only to find mike staring down at him with wide eyes, because the realization has just struck him: not only is will safe and okay in a physical sense, but he feels safe around mike — he’s happy and comforted and trusts mike enough to fall asleep next to him. being absolutely bowled over by that conclusion vs. will who thinks mike is so stupid for ever assuming it was a question at all

[tennessoui]

big bang fic posted: don't let me lose you to the rising tide 🌊

✨kit's big bang fic: don't let me lose you to the rising tide ✨

and i will not shut up about it, i'm so excited to share this fic with y'all!!! it has been a labor of so much love that has resulted in 62k of a fic where no one talks about anything unless they're actively lying to each other <3

i got to experiment with so many fun styles of writing and ways to communicate information in 'rising tide' - it has been a really long time since i just wrote something with no holds barred, getting to play around with what i was writing and how i was doing it, and that's this fic for me. it's gone through like a dozen iterations in my head (and in messages to friends) but i'm so happy with the way it turned out!!

and i cannot stop thinking about the art bree (@human-rocket) drew to go along with 'rising tide' - everything from the color scheme to the expressions on their faces is exactly perfect for the feelings and mood the words are trying to convey

i really hope y'all enjoy reading and also forgive me for not shutting up about it for the next few weeks - it's like so so hard for me to keep things close to chest lmao (demonstrated by how this fic is supposed to be a bit more on the secret side but it does already have a tag on my blog) so half my emotions right now is just absolute relief that i can talk about it and these two!!! they're going through it 🙏 there is so much suffering 🙏 but hope, too 🙏

[baambastic]

“Focus, Chris.”

“I am focusing.”

“If you say so, sure. Don’t let little old me distract you.”

“Shut up, Kon.”

Chris pointedly didn’t look at the very distracting gesture Kon made in response. Jerk. If he wanted to teach Chris how to use his tactile telekinesis, he could at least have the decency not to be rude about it.

Krypto let out a chuff from where he lay sprawled on the grass. Chris chose to interpret the sound as total agreement.

Kon had come home from Gemworld about a year ago, but Chris didn’t really bond with him until a few months later, when they decided to actually get to know each other. Turned out they had a lot in common: evil bio dads, spending years stranded in another dimension, coming back to a different Earth than the one they left, being friends with Tim Drake, et cetera. They became fast friends after that, even with Kon living on the Kent Farm aaalllllll the way in Kansas.

Oh, and they both had TTK. Telekinesis like Chris’s friend Kathy had, but cooler (in his totally unbiased opinion). Chris’s TTK developed last Thanksgiving, may that roast turkey rest in peace.

Kon had had his TTK for way longer than Chris, so he offered to teach him how to use it. Chris had accepted, so now they tried to meet up every Sunday for a lesson or two. Usually at the Kent farm, for safety and privacy.

Today was target practice. The goal: hit a small water bottle from thirty feet away with a marble. A difficult task for Chris, one which Kon was definitely not helping with.

Happy thoughts, Chris. Ignore your annoying adoptive cousin/brother/uncle/menace.

Chris took a deep, priming breath. He could do this. He lined up the shot, accounting for speed and trajectory. He concentrated his TTK at the back of the marble, ready to launch it…

“Bah!” Kon shouted from right next to Chris’s ear.

Chris jumped with a startled cry, and his shot went wide. The rogue projectile was shortly followed by a white blur in the air as Krypto went chasing after it.

Chris whipped around. “What the heck was that for?!” He threw his arms up indignantly. “I had it!”

Kon nodded. “Yeah, you did. Your aim was spot-on. You missed the point, though. I told you y’needed to focus.”

“I did focus!” Chris cried indignantly, “You messed me up!”

Kon shook his head. “Nope. Well, yeah, I messed you up, but that wasn’t focus, it was tunnel vision. You try to do that in a fight, and someone’ll throw you through a building.”

Chris crossed his arms with a huff. Stupid Kon with his stupid good points. “Fine, you win. Can we be done now? I wanna be done.”

Kon laughed. “Sure thing, Chris Bratt.” He ruffled Chris’s hair, ignoring his attempts to swat the offending hand away. “I’ve got a date with Tim later, anyway. Wanna go get ice cream before I take you home?”

“Yes!” Chris shouted. “Can I get the strawberry with that salted caramel on it?”

“How could I say no to you, y’little goblin?” Kon chuckled.

Chris pumped his fist in the air. “Heck yeah!”

[wickjump]

im gonna start posting fanfic recs btw whenever i find good ones. both here and my (awfully barren) 18+ account. because there are so many good fics out there with so few hits and fewer kudos and sometimes no comments period and it SUCKS because i REALLY LIKE THEM A LOT.. and i hope that by linking them here and yelling at everyone to COMMENT DAMMIT they might actually do it

seriously though any comment means a lot. most people who read a fic don’t even give a kudos. even if the fic wasn’t top tier, if you didn’t dislike it, hand over some kudos!! and if you liked it, comment!!!! even if the comment is one singular heart emoji it will be appreciated. if the comment just says “great fic!” the author will be happy. your comment doesn’t have to be this long winded gushing or analysis.

so many authors quit writing or lose motivation because the comments are few and far in between or just sometimes nonexistent. trust me when i say authors don’t care about how long or cool or smart sounding your comment is i promise!!!

i hope that mmmaybe recommending fics and telling people to comment might help fics i really like get more support maybe. and i, points at you reading this, hope that you will listen!!!at least a little….at least sum kudos….

[thetomorrowshow]

visions, visage, gentle, genteel ch. 3

esh au :)

cw: hospitals, prescription opioids

~

When Scott wakes up, Jimmy is not there.

That's a problem.

Joel is there, which is somehow even worse than Jimmy not being there.

Scott blinks at him for a moment, then lays his head back down and groans.

"Wow, see if I ever hang out with you in the hospital again," Joel grumbles. "Who is it who's sat with you twice now? That's right, me."

Scott sighs. "I want my boyfriend," he mutters, staring down at the hospital bed sheets. His arm hurts. It's wrapped up in bandages, useless at his side, and it hurts.

He's probably on some sort of pain drug, isn't he?

Joel sighs, and there's something tense in it that Scott doesn't have the mental capability to parse right now.

"Right. Well, the good news is your cats are all right."

That's nice.

Right, their house was destroyed.

Their house was destroyed. Who would destroy their house? What was the point? 

His and Jimmy's clothes were there. Jimmy's nice sweatshirt that smelled like him. The one that Scott would wear sometimes when he rolled out of bed in the morning, not wanting to part from his boyfriend but resolved to make breakfast for him.

And all their other stuff, but right now it's the clothes that grasp Scott's attention and he wants to cry.

"Hey—uh, it's okay," Joel says hurriedly, scooching his chair closer and awkwardly patting Scott's knee after hovering over his injured arm. "Jimmy's safe, he's okay. He just can't be here right now. Do you want to call him?"

Why can’t Jimmy be here? Scott really wants him here, wants to hold his hand and kiss his lips and feel better.

But that's right, Scott recalls, Jimmy can’t be in hospitals. "He has trauma," he informs Joel.

Joel bursts out laughing. "We've all got trauma."

Scott doesn't know how to respond to that, so he just kind of stares at Joel until the man continues speaking.

Joel sobers quickly. "Right. Er, do you know what you said to the EMTs?"

Scott doesn't remember saying anything. He shakes his head.

Joel sighs again. "Well, remember all that stuff that we did to make sure the public believed that Solidarity was dead?"

Scott nods. He remembers that, it was a whole thing.

"Right. And we don't blame you, but apparently you said some stuff that . . . made everyone think that Solidarity's still alive."

Oh.

Oh no.

Scott sniffles, thinking of exactly what that means—no Jimmy cheering him on in public, no Jimmy going out at all, no picking him up from work no dates no big wedding—

"Okay, you're crying again. Hey, hey, it's okay. It was an accident; we all know you didn’t mean to."

It's still his fault. Now he's going to have to have press conferences about it, and pretend to hate Jimmy, and he doesn’t want that.

Some rational part of him realizes that he's definitely being overemotional about this. Normally, he would buck up grimly and do what has to be done. Normally, he would never cry in front of Joel.

"It's the drugs," he croaks, trying to explain why he's having such a strong outward reaction. "Sorry."

"Don’t apologize," Joel says quietly. "You're going through a lot right now."

"It's my fault," Scott says mournfully, wiping at his nose with the arm that isn't injured. "I said something, I—"

"It's okay," Joel tells him, still awkwardly patting his knee. "You were going into shock, apparently. It's fine."

It's not fine, but Scott can't figure out what to say about it, so he just cries a little bit.

He sits there and sniffles until the doctor comes in, when he wipes his eyes and does his best to appear like the strong hero Major.

-

Joel and Lizzie, unlike any of the other heroes, still actively live in their house in the hero district. Most everyone else has it set up as their office, so to speak—Scott uses his as storage and a place to hold official meetings. He knows that Gem uses hers for meetings with her weird alliance.

But Lizzie and Joel together are recognizable, more so than many of the other heroes out of costume, and therefore rarely get the opportunity to spend time together in public unmasked. According to Joel, it's just easier to have one identity in public, and that identity includes where they live.

Scott does miss living in the hero neighborhood. It had been nice to have all of his neighbors understand his secrecy and his work without having to hide anything except for his face.

And now, as Joel pulls into his garage, Scott wonders if maybe they all oughtn't have moved after all.

Had that woman attacked his house while in the hero neighborhood, there would have been plenty of people to help him keep Jimmy secret. There would have been funds and materials set aside to get his house fixed immediately. There would have been heroes at his side to help take down the woman before Scott even realized she was there.

It had seemed like a safety concern when they moved out one by one. Every villain in the city had their address and could track them down simply by putting a few words into a search bar. Of course it made sense to move, adopt a more secret location.

But there had been no one nearby to help fight the mystery woman. There had been too much confusion, too much distress. And she had dared to attack in the first place, knowing that there wouldn't be other heroes around.

Why is it that every option has pros and cons? Why can't there be a perfect solution?

Perhaps more importantly, how did she find him?

Joel opens the passenger side door for him, which is entirely unnecessary because it was his left arm that got shot and the door is on his right side, but Scott lets it happen, too tired to argue in any way.

And Jimmy still isn't there.

He's at work, because apparently Scott had slept through the night at the hospital. Lizzie's also out, patrolling as the Ocean Queen. And Joel needs to leave to patrol soon, which means Scott will be alone.

Not alone, exactly, because as Joel shows him to the guest room, Elle weaves past his legs and Norman hops up on the bed.

That warms his heart a little. He'd been worried about the cats, and it's good to actually see them safe rather than having to just believe Joel’s word.

"Just call me or Lizzie if you need anything," Joel says, and then he leaves.

Scott, instead of sleeping and then taking more of the heavy-duty painkillers he was prescribed, flops onto the guest bed and pulls up five different news stations on his phone.

Aeor had always preached against checking the news right after a fight. No need to go mad trying to figure out everything he did wrong, overanalyzing himself for hours.

But sometimes, such as after fights where one wakes up in the hospital with only blurry memories of what occurred, the news is a necessary tool.

All five of them have him on the front page.

Three of them have helicopter footage of his anonymous house, and Scott's never been so glad that he signed on the lease with a pseudonym.

All of them have blurry photos of Jimmy (blurry enough that they can’t reliably determine many features, thankfully) standing over Scott, hair and clothes whipped around as if by some awful winds that Scott can vaguely recall happening.

And Jimmy isn't wearing a mask in those blurry photos.

They all additionally have a photo of Jimmy leaning over Scott, wearing a mask but clearly the same person.

That's not good at all. That's far worse than Joel led Scott to believe.

And Scott can't do anything about it.

Is Solidarity Still Alive? What the Government Isn’t Telling You, one of the articles reads. Scott closes it immediately, his stomach turning.

He just wants to cry, and curl up in a little ball, and pretend like the world doesn't exist.

He's ruined everything. He got Jimmy found out, and lost their house, and got hurt so now Joel has to take care of him while Jimmy tries to keep working even though he's one of the most wanted people in the city right now.

Why did this all have to happen?

Why is it so hard to handle?

Maybe it's the drugs talking, but Scott does the thing that had once been instinctual in times of distress.

He calls Shelby.

Shelby picks up on the second ring, answering with a quick, "Major, how are you doing?"

Scott blinks. Right. He's not Scott right now, he can't be Scott. He left his Scott phone at the now-destroyed house, and Shelby doesn't know that he's Scott and Major, and—

"Hi, Shubble," Scott says in his very best Major impression. "Um, I was just calling about—"

"Solidarity?" Shelby guesses. Scott nods, then remembers that she can't see him, and mutters an answer in the affirmative.

"There's nothing I can do," Shelby says shortly. "I've been trying all night to keep those pictures out of the news, and it's just making the tabloids suspicious. I mean, at your house, Major? What was Solidarity even doing there after you gave up conservatorship?"

Scott doesn't answer that. He hadn't thought it would ever become relevant to the mayor that he and the man once known as the supervillain Solidarity had become romantically involved.

Shelby sighs, long and distorted by the phone.

"So, how are you doing? How quickly do you think you can get out there?"

Scott looks down at himself, at his t-shirt that had taken a painful ten minutes to put on over his injured arm, at the sling holding said arm to his chest.

"Um, I got shot in the arm," he says, rather stupidly. "The, uh, the Mad King said that I went into shock, so they had to keep me overnight."

"Right, but how long?"

Scott's too emotionally exhausted for this.

"I don't know?" he says, voice wavering dangerously. "Call me later and we'll see, okay?"

"Right," Shelby says after a moment. "Sorry. I'm very stressed right now. Take some time to recover. Goodbye, Major."

Then she hangs up.

Scott stares at his feet for a long time before he sets down his phone.

He just wanted to talk to a friend. A friend who had more than once pulled him out of several depressive episodes, who always knew the right thing to say.

Scott has never felt so alone in his life.

And yes, he's being overdramatic about that, because he's felt alone for most of his life so there's no way this is the worst it's ever been.

It still really, really hurts though.

-

The first time Scott gets to see Jimmy again is the day after his first day in Joel and Lizzie's house.

Jimmy comes in through the basement, because for some inexplicable reason Joel has secret tunnels under his house. He comes in through the basement, and when Scott, sulking on the couch, turns to see him, his breath is stolen from his chest.

That's the man he's going to marry someday. From his scuffed brown work boots to his messy golden hair, that's the most perfect man in the world.

Jimmy shoots him a tired smile, and Scott rolls off the couch to meet him in a hug. It jostles his arm painfully, but Scott really doesn't care. He just wants Jimmy. He just wants to squeeze his arms around him until Jimmy laughs breathlessly and kisses him on the cheek, but with only one functional arm it's proving to be a little difficult.

Jimmy's hugging him back just as tightly, anyways.

"I missed you," Jimmy whispers in his ear.

Scott just clutches him tighter.

"Geez, get a room," Joel calls from the kitchen. "It's been, like, two days. Wait until he’s sound of mind, at least."

Jimmy pulls back, much to Scott's dismay. "Is he not sound of mind?" he asks, sounding a bit worried, but a little more put-out.

"Your man is still on percocet for the next two days," Joel informs him. "That's what he gets for being shot."

"I'm sound of mind," Scott argues, pulling a bit at Jimmy's shirt to get him closer again. "I missed you."

Jimmy, thankfully, does not detach himself. "It's okay. Joel grabbed your meds from the house, have you been taking them?"

Scott nods. "Yours?"

"Yep." Jimmy gently leads Scott back to the couch and sits down with him. "Look, babe, I love you, but I need to go change. Is that okay?"

It's really not okay, but Scott reluctantly releases Jimmy and watches him head off down the hall, already pulling off his shirt.

Once Jimmy's gone, Scott can't help but feel a bit cold. His arm aches—currently free from the sling so he can stretch it a bit, but not from the bandages. He's got another appointment to check on it in a couple of days, and if all looks good, he's set to start on physical therapy. He's hoping to get permission from the doctor to fight crime while it heals if he takes it easy. Then he could get back out there without causing any more worry to the people.

And, as if his mind is being read (always a possibility with Joel in the room), his phone starts buzzing with an incoming call.

It's the mayor.

Scott sets his jaw, then answers the phone.

"Major, how are we looking?"

"I have a check-up on the 22nd," Scott reports. "Then physical therapy."

"Any idea when you'll be back?"

"No. Um, maybe . . . maybe I can see if, at the appointment, they'll let me start while doing the physical therapy? Um, or—"

"He's on pain drugs," Joel says loudly, suddenly right behind Scott.

"Is that the Mad King?" Shelby asks, tinny and distant in Scott's ear. Scott, meanwhile, tries to regulate the adrenaline now shooting through his system (and causing his arm to throb) from Joel just appearing behind him.

"Go on, put her on speakerphone," Joel says, and before Scott can respond, the phone is yanked out of his hands and set down on the coffee table.

"Hi, Shubble," says Joel, leaning close to the phone. "Major's a little bit loopy right now, he's on percocet for the next couple of days. Anything I can do?"

"Sorry, why are you here?" Shelby asks after a moment.

"Somebody's gotta take care of Major."

"I'm not a child," Scott puts in, a little petulantly.

"What's going on?" Jimmy asks, wandering into the room, toweling off his face, now wearing sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

"Major, how many people are there with you?"

"He won't be back in the fight for a while," Joel says before Scott can even open his mouth. "What can we do instead?"

Shelby sighs. "Right. Well, it isn't looking good," she says. "Things aren't blowing over the way we hoped they would. The media legitimately thinks that Solidarity killed you, and they're publishing all those old stories about how the Canary was most likely Solidarity."

Jimmy blanches, freezing where he stands.

"Didn’t you say I'm alive?" Scott asks, bewildered. Why on earth would everyone think he's dead?

"I released the standard!" insists Shelby. "It's not enough this time. Apparently, despite there being several eyewitnesses, nobody remembers the villain you were fighting."

"It was a woman," Jimmy jumps in, stepping close to the phone. "A woman with blond hair, and really cool goggles? Also a gun."

Silence. A long, long silence during which Joel, for some reason, glares at Jimmy.

"Major," Shelby says eventually, "please tell me that you don't have Solidarity in your house right now."

Ah.

"Well," Scott says thoughtfully, "it isn't my house."

"Major."

"Hi, Mayor Shubble," Jimmy says sheepishly. "How are things going?"

Shelby sighs again. She does that a lot, Scott notices.

"This may as well happen," Scott thinks he hears her mutter, before she clicks her tongue and launches into a spiel.

"Okay, so Major isn't going to be ready to return to the scene for a while, but we can still do some damage control. Solidarity, if you publicly appear—we can make up some story about you working undercover for the government for the past couple of years—and we can rewrite their version from you attacking him to you defending him."

Scott starts to speak up, explain that Jimmy doesn't ever want to fight again, but Jimmy speaks first, leaning closer to the phone.

"If you think it'll help, I can do that," he says resolutely. "Just get those pictures with my face out of the news."

"They can't tell it's you, really," Joel says. "It's pretty blurry."

"I don't want my face attached to any of this," Jimmy states. "I don't care how blurry it is."

"Done," Shelby says, before Scott can make any of his protests known. "Press conference with Solidarity, tomorrow. They already know that you're the Canary, too, so I think we'd better admit that right off the bat. Do you have a number I can call you at?"

"Just Major's phone is fine, or the King's," Jimmy says. "I don't have an anonymous number."

"I'll call you in a couple of hours with your script. Thank you."

Click.

Silence.

Scott barely even got to say anything, even though it was his phone call.

And Jimmy. . . .

"Now why," Joel asks slowly, "on this great blummin' earth, would you do that?"

Jimmy shrugs, tossing the towel onto his shoulder. "I just . . . don't you ever get tired of hiding?"

Scott shakes his head.

"I love hiding," Joel admits.

Jimmy rolls his eyes. "Whatever. I'm just . . . for a long time, I was a really visible person. It was impossible for me to hide. I tried and I tried, right, but it never worked out. Someone always found me."

As if he doesn't notice, Jimmy's fingers fall to the back of his neck, brushing the scar there.

"It's been a great two years," he says, voice shaking just the slightest bit, "but it always felt like borrowed time."

That, somehow, hurts. It feels like giving up, like a walk to death, like an acceptance of a terrible fate.

Jimmy deserves so much better.

He deserves to be happy, and live a normal life, and forget that he ever hurt anyone or anyone ever hurt him. He deserves worlds of safety and comfort.

Scott can take care of this somehow. Can't he? This can’t be the only option. Maybe he can make a public appearance, say something about how it was his bodyguard, not Solidarity. Not Jimmy.

But they already know it was Jimmy, don't they? They already have pictures of his face. They already have witnesses that identified Jimmy as being involved. They basically already have Scott’s own testimony.

Scott wants to talk more about it. He wants to argue his point, and help Jimmy feel safe, and so much more that he can't verbalize.

But Joel returns to the kitchen, and Jimmy wanders off somewhere, and Scott doesn’t follow either of them.

[redrobin-detective]

When you have a craving for a very specific kind of fic you want to read but you can't put it into words much less tags and you're just endlessly trolling through related tags trying to find something -anything - to scratch that itch.

[shanklin]

Five years ago, you write a fic and you never post it. You’re stuck. You hate it. Ford is too mean, you keep repeating yourself and nothing makes sense anymore, especially your English.

You decide to take a break from editing. Maybe you’re just too hard on yourself. It’s fine.

You’re a liar.

To escape your fic you change fandoms. You tell yourself  “If I ever obsess over Gravity Falls again, future me will deal with it.”

You pretend you’re not haunted by this fic sitting in your documents every time you hear the song that inspired it all.

Years pass, you make a mistake. Gravity Falls is trending and you open the tag to figure out what’s going on. It’s over. There he is. The sad, gross old man you love so much. Uh oh.

Your past self is laughing at you.

You don't want to post the fic but you have to. It’s the longest thing you’ve ever written.

You make it your New Year's resolution. It's hard, but you decide to push through. You turn on the song you avoided along with your fic and start reading.

For some reason the only part that's remotely coherent is the one single paragraph near the end that establishes the Mystery Shack as sentient. You stare out of the window for a long time.

Does it have anything to do with the actual plot of the story? Hell no. 

But was it extremely important that everyone knows it’s sentient and loves Stan? I GUESS?!

You throw your hands up in the air and give up. Fuck it. We ball.

Chapter 1