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firenati0n · 5 months

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so I learned today that my dissertation that I thought I monumentally fucked up actually got the highest mark I could have achieved, and I am now the proud owner of a master's degree, and I may be getting fucking published, and a year's worth of tension and stress is finally starting to seep out of my body, and my nervous system can maybe have another fighting chance at regulating (unlikely), but—

The first thing my friends and family said to me was "proud of you!" and in the same breath they all, independently, said "you better also be proud of yourself" and then my mother said "your happiness always seems to be short-lived and fleeting, why is that?" and then she hit me with a "you stress yourself out to the point of illness and work yourself crazy only to enjoy none of the results" and—

boy howdy was I at a loss for words because she's right and i hate hearing my close friends and family echo the same sentiment of: I simply do not allow myself to enjoy any fruits of my labor???? I will bleed myself dry for validation and achievement and praise and love and then feel completely fucking insane for even wanting it in the first place.

It's why I stopped writing, why I abandoned so many threads. I wasn't getting any validation. I felt totally worthless.

and then I feel depths of shame previously unexplored at my Big Age for wanting some rest and peace (ironic that i beat myself up for wanting to recharge after I literally studied psych and wellbeing and the importance of rest!!).

I guess I just feel selfish for wanting to celebrate myself sometimes. And feel unable to be happy for myself because I hate boasting. So I'm going to hold myself accountable and say that I'm proud of all I've overcome to get to this point in my life, a point I did not anticipate being at 5 years ago, or even a year ago.

Onwards and upwards. 💛

p.s. I could not have finished that fucking dissertation without the emotional support of the gazillion rwrb fics I read throughout my writing process. I genuinely used ao3 as a coping mechanism and a rewards system for me to power through what was probably the hardest year of my life (for many reasons beyond academic).

to all of my writer/creator/artist/friend mutuals and the general rwrb fic/art community (I know you won't see this but i love you all the same), please know that any gratitude I express will never be enough. if I've ever screamed in your inbox or comments sections, know that it comes from a place of deep, genuine, at times debilitating emotion. y'all literally kept me afloat during some of the worst months of my life. You continue to keep me afloat. I don't know you, and you don't know me, but I know your words, and that is a privilege.

#sorry for the wall of text #I just needed to scream into the void for a second to people who do not know me but may understand me? or not #just feeling super fucking weird right now like I'm struggling to view this objectively good thing as good because of the constant brain ro #supplying me with 600 other stressors more pressing than celebrating my one achievement #idk all this to say i am proud of myself and i worked so hard to be where i am right now #but i feel like crawling out of my skin simultaneously #personal #words #now I'm off to read an angsty fic to help me cope with today's brain worms adios #my post #roop writes

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apocalypticdemon · 2 months

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tagged by @sunlaire! So sorry this took so long, school has been a nightmare this week and I have not had time to think about this, agh

The rules: take your 3 most recently liked songs on Spotify (or the first 3 that pop up on shuffle, whichever you want) and you have to 1) choose a line from each song to be a fic title and 2) tell me the genre of fic it would be and any other fic description you feel inspired to include.

Something in the Orange – Zack Bryan

“take me back to us dancin’ (this wood used to creak)”

DEFINITELY a really sad fitzier fic, and likely Crozier-centric. The line that precedes this one is “your voice only trembles when you try to speak,” so I’m absolutely envisioning a bedside vigil fic set sometime in season 9, in that tent. I’m not necessarily the most creative, right now, so I am just seeing a scene where Crozier is thinking about his affection for Fitzjames, or even a literal flashback to a moment where they had some privacy and were able to dance together, even if it was in silence.

I’m just seeing something angsty and at the end of things, and leaving it open whether or not they get rescued or if it follows canon’s events.

Voices of the Dead – Flobots

“the shadow of another person living parallel (a vision of a better life)”

I can see this being a fitzier fic after they return to England. This one is probably from Fitzjames’ perspective, though it could probably be a dual POV piece that’s longer. Lots of longing and Victorian times social propriety. I’ve had a scene in mind for the two of them for a long time that would probably fit in here. It involves the two of them going to the opera and seeing Dido and Aeneas, and Fitzjames having a lot of feelings about Dido’s Lament (technically called “When I Am Laid in Earth”) when it comes about. Idk how I’d work in the lyrics, but the aria starts with “when I am laid in earth, may my wrongs create no trouble in thy breast,” and culminates with “remember me, but ah, forget my fate,” and I can’t stop thinking that Fitzjames would have really intense feelings about nearly dying in the arctic as Dido’s singer performs the scene. Like, I can imagine James wanting to be remembered, but didn’t want his memory to be painful to Crozier, so that directly parallels to the lyrical content of the aria. And while James is trying to keep his composure, he completely misses Crozier having an equally emotionally fraught moment literally right beside him in the opera box. And of course that all bubbles up into an emotional confession between them, but the specifics are a bit beyond me at this point.

Toxicity – System of a Down

“somewhere between the sacred silence and sleep”

I am incapable of not having ideas for things that are deeply introspective and moody, but also relatively short, so I’m inclined to set this on the eve of their walk out on the ice. Probably from Crozier’s point of view, and it’s just him and Fitzjames in the wardroom, planning. They’ve been at it for a long while and have most of what little planning they are capable of planning for laid out, and they lapse into silence. Maybe Crozier just starts thinking about how his relationship with Fitzjames has evolved, how much closer they are, and starts to acknowledge that he’s crossed from tolerating Fitzjames into feeling genuine affection for him. Maybe again, since I’m also horribly drawn to angst in my ideas, despite it always making me so sad, Fitzjames falls asleep on the table and Crozier, giving into his affection, brushes the hair from his forehead and discovers the blood along his hairline, and very suddenly he has to grapple with the fact that Fitzjames is not as well as he pretends to be. Maybe he resolves to stay by Fitzjames as long as he is able to, since their time together is now even more limited than he feared.

idk who i should tag to do this, but if you see this and want to participate, feel free!

#i have other fic ideas outside of the terror but these lyrics all spawned terror fic ideas so that's what i'm running with #also i promise that i am not only able of writing angsty things. i promise fluff exists in my brain #there just has to be something less happy involved to make the fluff worth it i guess #but some of these don't even have fluff potential lmao it's just sad sorry

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jfleamont · 4 months

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All Things Must Pass (snippet)

Snippet #1: x

Summary:

It starts with the death of one person and ends with the birth of another. When James dies unexpectedly, Lily is forced to live with the regret of not having told him that she loves him. She’s loved him for years, even when he thought she hated him, even when they unexpectedly became friends, then best friends, then friends with benefits. But the past doesn’t always stay in the past, so when she goes back to the flat they shared and sees James looking at her with the same eyes she had seen closed in the casket at his funeral just the day before, her world is turned upside down. This is just the beginning of an unexpected series of events. It’s a story about the process of grieving, healing, forgiving and ultimately letting go, but it’s also about second chances, new beginnings and hope.

“No, you're not going anywhere,” Sirius blocked her path. She'd rarely seen him this furious. It scared her.

“Let me go, Sirius.”

“Not until you answer me. How did you know?”

She avoided his eyes, focusing on pulling on a loose thread in her jumper.

“Know what?”

“Don't play dumb! How did you know about that letter? I never sent it to James. I never sent it to you.”

Lily looked at James. He shook his head, begging her not to say anything.

Logically, she shouldn't.

But she was so tired of lying to everyone, to Sirius more than anyone else.

“He told me.”

A furrow appeared between his brows.

“Who?”

It was now or never. He'd take her for a lunatic, but she didn't care. Anything was better than lying to him and keeping him away.

“James.”

“I told you, James never saw the letter. I wrote it after he died.”

“I know. He saw you write it after the funeral. He saw you burn it.”

Sirius recoiled at that, and his eyes widened in horror.

“Did you put fucking hidden cameras in my home, Lily? What the fuck?”

He looked so betrayed. What if he didn't believe her? What if he'd hate her for breaking his trust?

“You know maybe this was a bad idea,” she said. Whether it was to Sirius or James, she didn't know.

“No, you have to tell me how you know that. Are you a fucking rat like Peter?”

That was too much.

“I can see him! I see James and I can hear him, too. He's here, and he's been here this whole time and I know for a fact you'll think I'm crazy or, even worse, than I'm lying but he's fucking here and I don't know how to explain it,” she exploded. At some point while she was talking she had started crying, and now she couldn’t stop.

Sirius’ whole demeanour shifted instantly. He put one hand forward, reaching for her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her but she backed away.

“Lily, listen, I miss him too and sometimes I feel like he's still here but—”

“You don't get it, do you? It's not… This is not grief, or perhaps it is, I don't know! All I know is that since I came back to the flat after the funeral he's been there. He's not… I know he's dead. But I think… I don't know what to call it, but it's him, or what's left of him. His ghost, his soul, whatever you want to call it. I can talk to him and look him in the eyes, Sirius. And he's here. I think he can only appear in places he's been before, like our flat or yours, but not Petunia's house.”

Sirius was looking at her strangely. She knew he wanted to believe her, she could read him very well, but the rational part of him was scared.

Scared of her.

Or for her, perhaps.

“Lily, sit here for a moment, okay? I'm sure all this stress isn't good for you.”

Lily fixed him with a glare. “You're the one who started yelling at me,” she protested, but sat on the sofa anyway and James, who had been quiet the whole time sat on its edge next to her. He wanted to say something, she could tell he needed Sirius to listen to him.

“I know, I'm sorry… I just don't understand how—”

She huffed. “I told you how. And I know you find it hard to believe me right now, but that's the only explanation I have.”

Sirius sat on the armchair in front of her, head in his hands. “I don't know what to think.”

“Have I ever given you reason to think I'm crazy?”

James snorted, but she resisted the urge to look at him.

“I mean, yeah,” Sirius smiled a little, but it didn't reach his eyes, “but not in the literal sense. And you seem pretty sane to me right now. You know, aside from this ghost thing.”

“Okay.”

“But I'm not going to lie to you, Lily, this is scaring me. I don't know what to do. Should I call a therapist? Or your dad? I don't know how to help you.”

He looked helpless.

“You could. But I've done both and my therapist says it's normal, while my dad said that this never happened to him after mum died, so…”

“You told your therapist you can still see James?”

“Well, I might have omitted a thing or two…”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that James told me about the letter. That James comes here on his own to visit you sometimes.”

Sirius was the one to look away now.

“I can't do this right now.”

He got up all of a sudden, heading for the door.

“He misses you.”

Sirius stopped in his tracks, and turned to look at her, his stormy eyes full of unshed tears and an unreadable expression on his face.

“And I'm supposed to believe he told you that,” he said. It didn't sound like a question.

She nodded.

“Wait, didn't you say he was here? Like actually here in this room? Why can't I see him?”

“I don't know, I think that—”

“Why can you see him? Fuck, even if it's just an hallucination, why do you get to have those and I don't? I'm his brother, for fuck's sake! And you're…” he stopped speaking abruptly.

Lily tilted her head to the side.

“I'm what? Just his friend, right? Who also happens to be carrying his child, but that means nothing, right?”

She knew she sounded childish, but she couldn't help it.

“He doesn't mean that,” spoke James, who had stood up and was now walking towards Sirius.

“You know that's not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?” she got up from the couch and crossed her arms, staring down at Sirius with a murderous expression.

He looked at her for a long moment.

“I don't know,” he shrugged, defeated.

There was no fight left in Sirius, and it was pointless to keep trying to make him understand.

She grabbed her coat and purse and this time, when she reached the front door, Sirius moved out of her way.

“Well, let me know when you figure it out.”

#mind you this is my first draft so it's gonna change and it isn't beta'd of course #this is the longest snippet I've ever posted I think #over 1k #also I haven't written in a while and I'm supposed to work on other things but this story called to me #jily #jple #jily fic #I know it doesn't seem like a jily fic right now (because both snippets are essentially just conversations with sirius) but I promise it is #this is sort of angsty sorry about that #james potter #lily evans #sirius black #jfleamont rambles #snippet #all things must pass #ATMP

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tathrin · 10 months

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A response to this ask; taken from this prompt; anyone can feel free to send other numbers in at any time, I don’t care how long it’s been. (Just maybe add some context to your ask if it’s been like a month or more since I posted this, because otherwise I won’t know what to do with the random number in my inbox).

#28....as a lie.

*technically this one picks up after the end of this story if you want to read that first, although you don’t need to; it’s as much a self-contained snippet as any of the others, it just happens take place in a setting within the events of a specific fic, that’s all.

Gimli’s eyes were drawn ever and again to the elvish dancers, even as he was drawn several times into brief conversations as friends and acquaintances paused at the table he now shared with Gandalf to exchange a few words and toast their well-wishes together for Gondor’s king and queen. Gimli was glad of the toasts, at least, for they brought fresh mugs of cool ale, and the heat of so many cavorting bodies had raised the temperature of the hall to near-dwarven levels, despite the cool white stone and tall windows through which a summer’s breeze still wafted.

Legolas’s hair shone like a sunrise in the rich torchlight, and his eyes gleamed like starlight on pale clouds. Gimli was amazed that anyone could long look elsewhere, with the shine of him whirling there to draw the eye.

He was not amazed that the other elves twirling on the dance floor were drawn to him; of course they were. How could they help but be lured in, dull drab moths circling that golden glow? Long hands ran up and down Legolas’s lithe limbs and pressed against his slender waist, long fingers twined through the streaming locks of his unfettered hair and curled possessively around his braids—

The mug in Gimli’s hands gave a crack and shattered, soft metal collapsing in on itself in his grip. He stared at the mess in his hands, numbly grateful that he had at least drained it already and so there was no ale left to spill out across his lap, and then he hurriedly shoved it onto the table behind him. He could feel his cheeks burning hotter than any torch in the hall.

Gimli chanced a sideways glance at Gandalf, who was watching the dancers with every evidence of placid enjoyment on his old face. Had he seen? Had he heard? He said nothing, but that did not always mean anything with Gandalf. Perhaps Gimli should speak, should craft some excuse...

“Flimsy human metal,” he muttered, and glanced at the wizard again. Gandalf nodded absently, but did not otherwise react.

Gimli let out his breath in relief—and then a second later he nearly choked on it, as Legolas suddenly bounded out of the tumult to perch on the bench beside him. His eyes danced as merrily as any of the revelers and his smile beamed bright and clear upon his beardless face.

“Will you not dance with us, Gimli?” he asked. His voice was light with laughter and with joy and his thin chest heaved from his exertions. Gimli found his eyes drawn upwards to the bare lips above that smooth and hairless chin.

“What?” he said.

“Dance with us, Gimli!” Legolas repeated. “Come, you can teach us dwarven steps and I will show you the ways of elvish revelry up close.”

“No,” Gimli answered automatically, his heart stuttering in his throat. “No, I—I am quite comfortable here, thank you.”

“You do not seem comfortable,” Legolas observed, and Gimli felt his stomach drop like a stone. He could not stop himself from glancing behind him at the ruined mug, even though he knew the gesture was a dead give-away; if Legolas had not seen it before, he surely would now, with Gimli’s gaze to lead him to it like a map—or a swift arrow.

“I am perfectly fine,” Gimli insisted. “Gandalf and I are enjoying the dancing quite well from here, thank you.”

Legolas spared a glance at the unmoving wizard but his eyes soon fixed on Gimli once more. “You are bothered by something,” he said quietly. “I can tell. Will you not tell me what? Perhaps I can help.”

Gimli’s mind stuttered with the possibilities of the help that Legolas might offer, and he quickly shied away from the idea. “No!” he blurted. “No, I—as I said, I am fine. It is merely warm in here.”

Legolas laughed. “Warm!” he cried. “But you are a dwarf!”

“Aye, a dwarf,” said Gimli, “and one who is enjoying his ale from his comfortable seat, and has no need to go whirling about like some flighty elven dandelion!”

Legolas should have laughed; Gimli knew his friend well enough to know that much. He should have laughed, but he did not. Instead his pale eyes narrowed sharp and keen on Gimli’s face, and Gimli could feel himself blushing beneath that tight scrutiny.

“Does it bother you,” Legolas asked in a low voice, “to see me frolicking so with these other elves?”

“What?” Gimli exclaimed. His hands clenched convulsively, and he was glad that he had already broken his mug; had he still been holding it now, he would surely have turned the thing into a flattened disk of over-stressed and useless metal. “Bother me! Of course it does not!”

To prove it, Gimli made himself laugh and shake his head, as though Legolas had spoken some ridiculous jest. He even lifted the elf’s lean brown hand and kissed the smooth knuckles as more evidence of how thoroughly unbothered he was. “Go back to your dancing, Master Elf!” Gimli chortled. “I am doing quite well watching it from afar, thank you!”

Legolas stared at him for another moment, his smooth face unreadable . The tips of his ears were flushed dark red from all of his cavorting and his pale eyed looked very wide with no beard to frame them.

Then he shrugged, and said, “As you like, then!” and squeezed Gimli’s shoulder once before bounding away and throwing himself back into the whirl of the merry elvish dancers.

Gimli let out a shaky breath and flexed his hands a few times, getting the blood-flow back into them.

"Lying will do no good for either of you," Gandalf declared calmly. "And it is hardly fair to Legolas; he will take you at your word, whatever you tell him."

Gimli could feel his cheeks burning hotter, shame coming along to add its kindling to the blaze. He managed to force an unintelligible grumble of disagreement from his lips, but nothing more articulate than that; he felt as though he was already strangling on all the words he would not, could not, say.

"He will," Gandalf insisted. "The elvenking might be able to spot a lie from 300 leagues and skewer it as neatly as his son ever has an enemy with that bow of his, but Thranduil's people are another matter. Lies are not generally told in Mirkwood. It is not a place for dissembling, or oaths, or scheming. The Wood-elves are a simple, honest people. And you are Legolas's friend." Gandalf pulled his eyes away from the dancing and fixed his gaze on Gimli instead. His bushy brows were drawn very low atop them, making his eyes glint like embers in deep shadow. "If you tell him something, he will believe you, Gimli. And you will have none but yourself to blame for the results."

Without waiting for Gimli to muster either the courage or the wits for a response, Gandalf swept to his feet and strode off into the tumult of the party.

Gimli slumped low on his bench and stared miserably at the dancing elves.

Legolas was still so impossibly vibrant and noticeable against the duller backdrop of the others. Gimli's eyes fixed on him at once. He seemed to be moving now with even greater abandon than before, if such a thing were possible.

And if such a thing were not impossible, Gimli would almost have said that Legolas kept glancing back at the table where Gimli sat as well—but he was not, of course, and so Gimli put the thought from his mind.

He had more than enough to think of anyway, when a tall elf of Lórien slid up behind Legolas and snaked her arms across his narrow shoulders, leaning in low to murmur something into his finely-pointed ear.

Legolas laughed and turned to face her, their long lithe arms entwining as close as any dwarven lovers. They swayed and swirled together with the music, and the elf-woman’s hands slid up from Legolas’s shoulders to tangle in his braids. Legolas smiled up at her and said something that Gimli was too far away to hear, but it made her laugh. Then Legolas gave one of her dark braids a gentle tug, and Gimli realized that he was growling low in his throat as though facing down a horde of goblins.

He turned away blindly and reached for his mug, realized that it was both empty and broken, and turned back around just in time to see the elf-woman twirl away into someone else’s arms as another pair of hands took Legolas by his trim waist and plucked him out of the center of the tumult to pull him in close against their long lean body, and—

And it was Haldir, Mahal curse it. Gimli’s mouth went dry, his blood pounding in his ears like drumbeats as the March Warden leaned in close and lowered his mouth to Legolas’s ear, whispering something. He took one of Legolas’s braids in his hand and rubbed his thumb across the heavy golden strands, like a dwarf might test a metal for its quality. Haldir was hardly dancing; only swaying a little as he stared down at Legolas, who stood balanced before him on his toes like a bird paused on the edge of flight.

Gimli was on his feet before he realized it, about to start forward and—and what?

His hand was at his belt, which was empty of course; a wedding was no place for weapons. And why was he reaching for his axe, anyway? He sat back down on the bench with a heavy, hollow thump. What was he thinking? What was he doing?

He had had too much ale, clearly. It was the only explanation for his strange behavior tonight. His throat was dry, but he would not drink anymore tonight; he had drunk too much already, clearly, and it was clouding his thoughts. Making him think strange, impossible things. Making him dream things that—that were not, that could never...!

Legolas laughed and rose up onto his toes to press a light kiss to Haldir’s lips.

His head reeling, Gimli watched as the March Warden took Legolas by the hand and led him, smiling, towards the door. If Gimli thought that Legolas paused on the threshold and looked back, somehow finding Gimli’s eyes across the crowded room and glancing at him hesitatingly, questioningly, even hopefully—well, then that was just another sign that he had reached the night’s limit for ale; reached, and more than passed.

Gimli held himself very still, schooling his expression to a placid calmness that might have rivaled Gandalf’s, and then he forced a smile and a nod—just in case Legolas was really looking; just in case he could really see him.

A shadow seemed to flicker across those bright elvish eyes, as though one of the torches near the door was on the verge of guttering; although when Gimli looked at them, they both appeared to be burning tall and strong still.

When he looked back, there was only a faint fading flicker of golden locks flowing around the corner as Legolas vanished into the night and Haldir’s arms.

Gimli sat there for several minutes, staring into the empty darkness of the door. The noise of the wedding revels that had once filled the hall with such bright merriment seemed to have faded now, somehow; he heard it from a distance, like echoes from some far-off cave. Eventually he forced himself to rise, and murmur unintelligible farewells as he passed his friends, and trudge his way across the long white hall towards the other door.

He stumbled back to the rooms the Fellowship shared, alone.

#this was supposed to be a little more silly and slapstick than it ended up being oops #sorry? and/or enjoy the angsty dwarf i guess #this isn't necessarily the ''canon'' ending to that fic btw #so i'm not going to be adding it on to the story #it's just...where this snippet happened in my head when i started writing idk #i promise to try and keep most of these totally stand-along moments #rather than things that you need to read other stories or know the context of specific aus for #anyway that one's pretty canon-based too; it's just aragorn and arwen's wedding #it just has some extra set-up before it if you want to read more scene-setting that's all #gimleaf #gigolas #send a kiss meme #my writing #my stuff #gimli #legolas #haldir #legolas x haldir

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ladye-zelda · 4 months

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Looking through my drafts and--

I think I definitely need to rewrite the AoC Arranged Marriage au

#my writing is so terrible you guys #everything just sort of drags on #and then of course theres the angsty part which I definitely need to rework because it's angstier than I remember #I feel so bad #I'm sorry you guys followed for aoc arranged marriage au but all you got was anything but that #just not that confident with my writing yet #ladye's rambles

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wtungsten · 1 year

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Happy Hwon Day!! <3

03.12.2002

#I'm sorry I had to add the weird photoshop looking picture - it was the first one they gf posted of him and it was so funny #also the baby pics cause he's posted so so many and he was a very cute child 😌#and the orange + beret fit was just so iconic #he thought I would let his emo pics slide but I won't!! when he joined the group and everyone was all bubbly and he started posting these #'I'm so angsty' posts with those pics y'all know I had to keep the proof #anyway happy birthday to Shim Youngjoon- the most recent member of Kingdom and one who completes them in a way none of us knew could be done #I'm so happy kingmaker has gotten to spend this time with you and I can only hope for many many more birthdays to come <3 #hwon #kingdom #shim youngjoon #kingdom hwon #hwon kingdom #kpop kingdom #kingdom kpop

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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 years

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Have any soft FD HC’s/ scenarios when he would take care of them?

(Not actual scenes, because I know you you would end up writing something, just scenarios.)

(Bonus points if it includes the Burrito Bros…)

LOL you know me too well, I would probably write something. XD

Sky likes to wear the mask so Fierce can interact with the others (he tells Fierce that it isn't too painful for him personally, which is an absolute lie, but Fierce respects his privacy and doesn't read his mind after the first time so he doesn't know). He always does it when Time isn't around that way the elder doesn't get upset (Time wants to meet Fierce as much as the rest but he doesn't want Sky to get hurt/ill/drained from it). He talks to Fierce a fair amount to help him keep up with what's happening. So when one of the boys is hurt or ill beyond something a simple potion can fix, Fierce is usually fretting about it and Sky lets him come out.

One time Twilight pushes himself too far because he's still recovering from his Dink Disaster, and it happens because the group got separated. Sky, Twi, and Four are together at the moment, and Sky happens to have the mask because he was talking to Fierce when the ambush happened that got them split up. Fierce is worried as all get out, so Sky lets him take over because the deity has more experience in this sort of thing and is far more capable of fighting off the hordes that they know are lingering around. Four is overly stressed and freaking out because it's too soon from the last time Twi almost died, so Fierce soothes him and takes care of Twi and slaughters any monster that breathes within a ten mile radius. Twi tries to pull his weight and Fierce just ends up carrying him as they walk. Four loves doing storytelling with Fierce because he adores listening to his little rainbow fill him in on events in the world. Twi eventually settles into being cared for because he can't really argue about being a burden to a freaking godlike figure, and Fierce learns to his delight that Twi loves cuddling. Four does too.

When the trio finally reunites with another chunk of the Chain, it's Warriors and Wild, and oh boy because Fierce knows about Wars' PTSD and Four told him all about Wild's issues and this Mother Hen is going to town now because he can already see how stressed and worn out they are and he just sets to work calming them down and insisting everything and everyone is fine and gathering ingredients for Wild so he can stress cook and Fierce wants to taste everything because he hasn't eaten in millennia, and he senses when Warriors is going from normal to I have to take care of everything and everyone and I am spiraling mode, and he has Twilight basically tackle him as Wolfie before carrying Warriors over to the group wrapped in his scarf. Fierce showers Wild with praises because he knows he needs to hear it, Four does more story time (interspersed with Warriors and Twilight and Wild piping in) and the like.

After a few days, they reach civilization, and Fierce hesitates, knowing he'd be an intimidating sight in a town of Hylians who know nothing about him. He asks Wars what it was like when he took the mask off, and Wars tells him about the sensation. Fierce feels really awful, and he asks the boys to gather supplies for Sky and get a room at the inn ready for him. Fierce tries to mentally reach out to Sky and can't find him. Nervous, he takes the mask off, and Sky is a hot mess, but the boys take care of him.

The next time Sky tries to talk to the mask, Fierce won't reply until Sky almost puts it on. He asks Sky to not use the mask, and says he's content with just hearing about the boys. Sky can immediately hear the pain in his voice and knows he's lying, but he doesn't know what to do about it, so he decides to go to Legend and Hyrule, magic and artifact experts, to see if they can work something out.

Because by now, everyone wants to meet Grandpa Fierce.

#fierce dadity #this was angsty sorry #I tried for straight fluff and then remembered that the mask is still a huge problem #but the boys will figure something out I'm sure #you ask skye answers #lovely silvercaptain24 #so I ended up kind of writing a story anyway LOL oops #the more I look at this the worse it gets because you wanted soft things and I just made an angst story with soft moments LOL #but basically FD does story time with Four all the time #cuddles with Twi at any given opportunity #holds Wars hostage so he can rest #showers Hyrule and Wild in accolades #I'll have to make a separate post now to actually answer your question hahaha #oh well

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