anysin
Anysin Is Here
Anysin's blog for random fandom stuff. NSFW. My TMA sideblog is anyfear.
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12 and 22 (Daisy)
12. What's the funniest or craziest AU you've ever come up with?
Given how much weird niche shit I write, answering this was really hard, but I guess my most out there AU was the good old Intruder Management in Gravity Falls, aka the "dark!Ford keeps Bill captive" fic series.
22. Give us a headcanon of Daisy.
Has small and cute handwriting that she's slightly embarrassed of.
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10 for Peter Lukas
11 for Jon/Martin
13.
10. What's your favorite piece of fanart for Peter Lukas?
This one:
https://www.tumblr.com/future-crab/742529955394617345/p-kom-listened-to-the-magnus-archives-ended-up
11. What's your favorite piece of fanart for Jon/Martin?
This S5 piece:
https://sajwho-art.tumblr.com/post/646024749678460928/jon-crying-was-something-i-deeply-needed-all-these#notes
13. What's a character or ship you haven't written/drawn yet but would like to some day?
I would love to write about Gerry and Gertrude.
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Fandom Ask Game!
Some are specific to writers or artists, but I made sure to include questions for everyone!
OTP?
OT3?
NoTP?
Is there a popular pairing you don't necessarily dislike but aren't too invested in?
Out of all your fanworks that include [character], which is your favourite?
Show us a bit of a WIP!
Is there a piece of clothing you think [character] is particularly fond of/that you imagine them wearing a lot or like to draw them in?
How did you come up with the title to [insert fic]?
Write a recommendation of someone else's fic you enjoyed!
What's your favourite piece of fanart for [character]?
What's your favourite piece of fanart for [ship]?
What's the funniest or craziest AU idea you've ever come up with?
What's a character or ship you haven't written/drawn yet but would like to some day?
Is there a character or ship you were so sure you would never write/draw but now you've changed your mind?
Have you noticed your style change over time?
Do people irl know you participate in fandom?
What's a book, movie, or show you think [character] would like?
Type [charater]'s name and tell us what the autocomplete suggests as the next word
What's your favourite thing about [fandom] (the people in it, not the media you're all enjoying together)?
When did you first join Tumblr? How long was it between that and finding [fandom]?
Go onto your AO3. Which ship have you written for the most? The least? Does this correspond to who you consider your "favourite?"
Give us a headcanon for [character]
Has your favourite character/ship changed over time?
What's your favourite thing about [character]?
What's your least favourite thing [character] said or did?
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Fic: Tending To A Blossom
For an anon requester, a Jon/Elias with "extending physical contact more than necessary" theme! Set before the show, SFW with UST and some spider fear.
Tending To A Blossom
Jon is in the middle of setting things up in his new office when he spots a spider on the floor.
It flees the moment he starts to stride towards it, perhaps sensing his intention to stomp, and while the spider at least has the decency of leaving the room, it leaves Jon rattled. He feels ridiculous about it; it's just an animal, not an ill omen nor a monster out to get him. It couldn't have been more ordinary. It's fine. Jon is fine.
He tries to keep going, but the spider keeps lingering in his mind, disgusting him, and at last he has to sit down for a moment. He closes his eyes, trying to clear his head.
"Jon? Is everything all right?"
Of course, now Elias decides to make his appearance. Jon drags his hand over his face, sighing.
"I'm fine," he says. "I was just- startled by something."
Elias knows about his fear of spiders; Jon had told him about it truthfully during the job interview, when Elias had asked him about his fears. Still, it would be embarrassing to admit that he's letting a spider bother him on the first day of his new job, so Jon says nothing about it. He looks over to the door, where Elias is leaning against the frame, watching him.
"It's all right to be tense, you know." Elias steps into the room, starting to pace towards him. "First day at a new job is always little nerve-wrecking, especially in such a high position. It's no wonder you are jumping at shadows."
"I wouldn't say I'm jumping at anything." Jon grabs the arms of his chair, pushing himself up. He needs to show Elias that he's ready for it all, and that he's not going to let a little scare bother him too long. He will be worthy of this job. He-
"Jon." Now that he's close enough, Elias rests a hand on his shoulder. "Sit down. I will show you something."
Face heating up a little, Jon sits back down, trying to feel comfortable while Elias walks behind him.
"Now, I want you to focus on the pencil on your desk. Just look at it." Elias puts both of his hands on Jon's shoulders, grasping them firmly. "Observe it as deeply as you can."
A nervous laugh breaks from Jon, embarrassing him.
"This is unnecessary," he says. "I'm not having a panic attack."
"Humor me, then." Elias shifts closer to him, gripping his shoulders lightly. "Or take it as an order. Whatever helps you focus for a second."
Jon rolls his eyes, but does as he's told, focusing on the pencil on the table. It's actually something that Elias gave him on the day of his promotion, a little gift to ease him into the new job. Tim and Sasha hadn't been impressed by it, but Jon has hold onto it ever since he got it. He stares at it now, but although he still thinks it's a good gift, it's not the thing he's really focusing on. He's focusing on the hands on his shoulders, the way the slim fingers grip him, the weight of the palms, how close to him Elias is standing.
He has to admit; it works.
"Here we go." Elias's thumbs are moving, rubbing against the flesh around Jon's spine. "Focusing your senses on one thing does a wonderful job of clearing your head. That's good for you to keep in mind for the future, because this job isn't going to be easy."
"I know." Part of Jon wants to squirm against the rubbing motion against his back, but he forces himself to stay still. "You won't regret giving it to me, Elias. You will see."
It's almost a shame when Elias lets him go, stepping away from him, but Jon doesn't protest out loud, inhaling through his nostrils instead as he gets up again. He turns to Elias, who seems to be pleased with him; the prospect makes Jon's face heat up a little more, and he clears his throat.
"Thank you," he says.
"You're absolutely welcome." Elias smiles. "And I know. I will see."
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Blitzo/Stolas or Anget Sust/Husk, 6 or 8
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Fic: The Smile Stays On
For @flo-nelja, here is an Husk/Angel Dust story with "half-remembered themes" thread! SFW but with implied Valentino stuff, angst and liquor.
The Smile Stays On
Husk peels his eyes open, just a little, and sees something reddish before him.
"Why couldn't you just die?" he sneers, even though he's scared.
"Geez, what a reception."
What? Husk opens his eyes all the way, and sees that instead of Alastor, it's Angel sitting on the other side of the bar counter, wearing a tight, red dress. Angel leans both his pairs of elbows against the counter, lacing his fingers together.
"Bad dreams?" Angel asks, resting his chin on top of his entwined fingers.
"Sorry about that, I thought-" Husk pushes himself up, grimacing as his head aches. "Mistook you for Alastor. That's his shade of red."
"Oh yeah? That explains why Vox was looking at me so weirdly today." Angel grins, leaning forward. "Want me to give you some good dreams?"
"Maybe in your dreams." Husk is smiling too, but that's before he takes a closer look at Angel. His smile drops when he sees that Angel's dress is rumpled, the other shoulder strap snapped apart. "Valentino working you hard already? We only just survived an angel attack!"
Angel shrugs. "What can I say? He also believes the show must go on." His smile has already lost its shine, but now it fades for good as Angel looks down, sighing deeply. "Even the bad one."
Well, aren't both of them just so fucking cheerful right now? Husk reaches out and nudges Angel's exposed shoulder, getting him to glance up again.
"Come on, loser, let's have a drink," he says. "Just one though. Had a few too many earlier."
"I like the sound of that." Angel crooks his mouth in a little smile, resting his arms down on the counter. "Well, the drinking together part at least. Wanna talk about why you were drinking alone?"
Husk knows this kind of a conversation is a positive sign for Angel; it means that he's caring openly, seeing beyond his own misery. But Husk hesitates before clearing his throat, grabbing a bottle at the same time.
"I had too much time to think," he says. "And of course, the thing I couldn't stop thinking about was how close I was to getting rid of Alastor."
He pours them two glasses of cream liquor; he's in the mood for sweet tonight. He pushes Angel's glass towards him, and Angel takes it, but doesn't drink yet, running his fingertip along the rim of the glass instead.
"Yeah, that sucks a lot. It really looked like he was a goner." Angel dips his finger into the liquor, taking the finger to his mouth. "My offer stands, though. If you want some good dreams, I am more than happy to oblige."
Angel licks his fingertip clean, staring at Husk. It looks like his usual seduction bullshit, but it's different; instead of having some fake coy look or a fake sleazy look, Angel's eyes are sincere, intense. It makes Husk blush underneath his fur, and he hastily takes his own glass.
"I'm not sure if there's turning my bad dreams into good." He gulps down the half of his drink, letting the liquor seep into him, warm him up. "They are vague, for one thing. Sometimes all I remember afterwards is the way they make me feel, which is like shit."
Husk stares at his glass. The liquid doesn't quite show his reflection, but he knows that if it did, he would look small and miserable. He hates that.
"Other times, all I remember are his eyes." He shudders, taking his glass to his mouth again. "His smile."
He drinks the rest, taking it slow, eyeing Angel over the glass. Angel nods at his words, finally grabbing his own glass.
"I feel you on that." Angel drinks his entire glass down in one go, wiping his mouth afterward. He smiles at Husk, his eyes softer now. "At least we're not alone, right?"
Husk smiles back.
"At least we're not alone," he agrees, and they cling their empty glasses together.
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helloooo, if ur still taking the ust prompts, might i request 11 for jonmelanie? thank u for all your good works. smut and dark stuff absolutely alright
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Fic: My Ball and Chain
For @vastsexual, here is a Jon/Melanie set between S3 and S4. Melanie visits Jon in the hospital after the Flesh Attack on the Institute and she has a lot on her mind. Warnings for some violence and angry dark Melanie.
My Ball And Chain
The people at the hospital, staff and patients alike, stare at Melanie as she walks along the corridors, her clothes torn and dirty, her face and hands coated in blood. But nobody dares to stop her as she makes her way to Jon's room and goes inside.
Melanie has always hated the smell of the hospitals, and the air in this room is no less disgusting. That's why she raises her hand to her nose, inhaling the scent of blood and viscera of Jared Hopworth and his cronies as deeply as she can. It's almost all iron, the scent, but it's so, so good; Melanie shivers, almost wanting to lick her hand clean, but as much as the scent excites her, she has come down from the high of the battle enough to have her brain under her control. She can enjoy herself later; there is something important she has to do.
She's going to kill Jon.
This is only the second time she has been at the hospital. The first time she hadn't even been able to enter the room, letting Basira go in while she stayed outside, hands clenched into fists, vision red with deep, desperate rage. Everything had felt so unfair; the loss of Tim and Daisy, Elias being prison and out of Melanie's and her justice's reach, Melanie herself still being stuck at the Institute, unable to get away. She had remained outside Jon's room because if she had gone in, she might have killed him. Back then, Melanie didn't want that.
But it's been months, and every month is worse than the previous month, and Melanie has grown bitter like old coffee, turning pitch black inside. Today was the first time she felt some kind of a freedom ever since that confrontation in Elias's office, freedom and power, and she wants those feelings to stay. That's why Jon has to go.
Dropping her hand, Melanie closes the door behind her with the other one. She breathes in deeply, taking a step forward.
Jon doesn't look any different from a corpse, his face miserably hollow and gray. He doesn't react to Melanie when she gets closer to him, and now that she thinks more than she feels again, she can feel irritation rising from the back of her brain. Jon really has the nerve to look so fucking helpless, doesn't he? Seeing him this way was supposed to be a pleasure; instead, it enrages her. Snarling, Melanie marches across the remaining distance between her and the hospital bed, yanking the covers off Jon's body.
"Why don't you just die?"
Of course, Jon doesn't answer. Without the covers on, he looks even smaller, his body mere skin and bones; it barely looks like there is any blood running in his veins. And since he isn't even breathing, his body is entirely still, and when Melanie reaches out and touches his cheek, his skin is cold. He should by all means be dead. She should help him be that.
But now that she is right next to him, all her desire to destroy him seems to have left her.
Scoffing at Jon, at herself, Melanie steps away from the bed, looking Jon over. Maybe the desire isn't there because it feels pointless to kill someone who can't even fight back; she might as well be cutting dead meat into smaller pieces. Frustrated, she starts to pace back and forth next to the bed, reaching out every now and then to give Jon's unmoving body a shake, a shove. She tries to stir herself with the thoughts of punching him, strangling him, stabbing him, but none of it works; mere thoughts, even Jon himself, don't compare to the rush of the battle at the Institute. She needs his eyes to be open, for him to see her and fear her.
Groaning from irritation, Melanie finally climbs up on the bed, straddling Jon's bony legs. She puts her hands around Jon's throat, leaning over him as she starts to squeeze.
"Come on," she mutters. "Gimme a fucking fight."
She sits down on him, digging her knees into the sides of his thighs as she grips his neck, staring down at his face. She hopes to see any disturbance, any sign of discomfort or pain or terror. But Jon's face remains calm, not sound escaping him no matter how hard she squeezes him, even when she shakes him.
"Don't just lie there!" she demands. "Come on, fight me! Irritate me to death like you always do! Don't just fucking lie there, it's been long enough, come back already!"
She breaks into shudders, letting him go. She covers her face with her hands, breathing in and out deeply again, trying to keep it together.
"Come back already," she repeats behind her hands, feeling it as the anger drains out of her.
But not completely. After a while, she drops her hands, leaning down to him close enough she could count his eyelashes if she wanted to.
"If you do ever come back," she says slowly, "I promise I will make it as miserable for you as I can. You will suffer every bit as much as I do."
Pulling back, Melanie wonders what else she can do now, or even say. Something that doesn't make her feel so ridiculously vulnerable; he hasn't earned the right to make her feel that way. She sits there for a moment before it dawns on her, and she starts to smile.
Grasping the hem of Jon's hospital robe, Melanie yanks it up, exposing him all the way to his hips.
"You will get a little memory of me," she whispers, pulling her knife into sight. "If I can't forget you, you can't forget me."
Melanie gets to work.
She presses into his lower stomach with the tip of her blade, digging in just deep enough to hope it hurts. Jon still doesn't react, but she continues anyway, dragging her knife along his flesh until there is a distinct, jagged 'M' just below his navel. She watches as blood seeps into sight from the fresh carving, and it feels right. It feels like justice.
"I will get you one day," she promises, pulling his robe back down before getting off the bed.
Melanie tosses the covers back on him, telling herself that this is enough for now. She will wait for him for the round two.
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7 or 11, Dark!Jon/Martin & a little of Tim/Martin please? No limits
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Fic: Stirred Tensions
For the requester who wanted dark!Jon/Martin with Tim/Martin on the side, here is a S2 story in which Jon gets jealous and acts on it. SFW with creepy Jon.
Stirred Tensions
There is a romance happening at the office.
Tim and Martin don't let it disturb their duties, so it takes Jon a while to notice it in the first place. But once he does notice how Tim and Martin always leave the Institute at the same time, together, it's impossible not to notice everything else too. The way their fingers sometimes tangle together when they're close to each other, how Martin has become chattier and laughs more easily, and worst of all, when they start arriving at work at the same time too.
Something is happening between them, and Jon gets his confirmation for the nature of their relationship when he almost catches them kissing in the back of the Archives, Martin's arm slung around Tim's neck, Tim's hand on Martin's hip. They both startle when Jon clears his throat, bouncing back from each other.
"Sorry," Martin mutters, fleeing the place of crime immediately, face all red. Tim shakes his head at that, laughing.
"Great timing, boss," Tim says, but it's good-natured. He even pats Jon on the shoulder when he leaves, heading after Martin.
Jon lingers there for a while, trying to chase the image of Tim's and Martin's mouths almost touching out of his brain. But it lingers, too.
-
"You wanted to see me, Jon?"
Weirdly enough, Jon appears to be more nervous about their meeting than Martin is, and Martin is plenty of nervous. It takes a moment for Jon to turn around, and he almost looks hesitant for a second before his eyes go stern.
"Sit down," he says. "I need to talk to you."
Martin hides a grimace. Is this about the interrupted kiss, or about the CV? He's not sure which option worries him more, but he sits in the chair anyway, trying to smooth the wrinkles out of his trousers once he's down. They don't go away, but he leaves his hands at his knees, looking up at Jon.
"This will be very awkward," Jon warns, walking over to his desk. He hesitates by his chair before pushing it away, resting one hand on the desk while letting the other fall down to his side. He isn't meeting Martin's eyes. "But well, I saw you and Tim yesterday. And I have noticed that you and Tim have grown quite close."
Martin exhales slowly through his nose. This- well, it had been one of the things he feared Jon would bring up, but he had really hoped it would be low on Jon's list of priorities. He grips his knees, struggling to think of how tactfully to breach the topic.
"We have become close," he admits. "It's nothing that gets in the way of our work though. We have done everything asked of us."
"So far." Jon brings his other hand on the desk too, gripping its edge. "However, that's not what concerns me. Your safety does."
"Jon, what are you talking about?"
But Martin knows. He remembers coming to Jon's office with an offer of tea and the plan to get him out for a while, and finding Jon with photos of Tim's house all over his desk. Jon has been weird lately, observing them all, examining their things when he thinks nobody is looking; Martin remembers his own confrontation with Jon, how angry Jon had been with him. This all has to be part of the same thing and it fills him with concern.
"Do you really think Tim is dangerous?" he asks, frowning at his own careful tone. "You're wrong, you know. I know you don't want to hear it but-"
"It's possible though," Jon interrupts him. "What do you really know about him? Sure, he's very likable and charming, but do you actually know anything about his past, or even what he currently wants from this place? H's a little suspicious."
"I do actually know a lot of things," Martin snaps, curling his fingers up against his thighs. "I mean, I'm the one who spends time with him. What have you done to try to get to know him?"
Jon sighs, somehow managing to make the sound of it drip with condescension, and shakes his head.
"You're not listening," he says.
"You're the one who is not listening," Martin mutters unhappily. He wants to argue on Tim's behalf, but also, in a way, for Jon's; Jon doesn't need to have all these doubts and fears about the people he knows. Something is obviously wrong with him, and Martin wants to help. But he doesn't know how to make Jon listen, and right now he fears he will make it worse if he tries. So he gets up, which makes Jon's eyes go wide.
"We're not done here," Jon starts to say.
"I'm sorry, but I think we are." Martin can't stand the look in Jon's eyes, the weird despair, so he looks away, towards the door. "I can talk to you about work things. My private life is mine."
"I'm just trying to help," Jon whispers.
The worst thing is, Martin is sure that Jon really means that.
"You're not though," he says softly, and starts to leave.
*
There is nothing Jon wants to do more than to race after Martin, grab him and keep him from leaving. But even if he had the physicality to do that, he feels frozen, just standing there and watching as Martin exits the office and closes the door behind him. Martin does everything gently; a sign that whatever emotional disarray Jon is feeling, Martin doesn't share it.
And Jon is the one who needs to appear rational.
Once Martin is gone, Jon walks over to the chair Martin just sat in, reaching down so he can press hand against its back. It still feels warm from the pressure of Martin's back. Jon keeps his hand there for a while, trying to think of a way he can make Martin understand, see that Tim is potentially dangerous.
And even if Tim isn't- he's not good enough.
The back of the chair has gone cold. Jon pulls his hand away, and wonders how warm Martin will feel like in Tim's hands tonight.
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Hellooo!! 11 and either JonTim/JonElias/DannyTim please? Smut would be much appreciated.
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8 for JonBasira? Sexual and dark content are always welcome
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10, jonah/fanshawe, dark if possible please!! Ty!!
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Fic: Tears In The Night
For anonymous requester, a Jonah/Fanshawe in losing track of thought while gazing! SFW but dark with captivity and some minor violence.
Tears In The Night
There are nights when Jonah hears his Jonathan crying in his sleep.
Dr. Fanshawe has always been a stoic, proud man; Jonah knows that if he hears him weep, it means the doctor is truly feeling low, or his dreams have lulled him into false sense of security about letting his guard down. It's impossible to know the reason as long as the locked door in Jonah's house remains closed, and most of the time Jonah lets him cry alone. He can afford little mercies like that.
Tonight, however, Jonah is feeling greedy, and he goes into Jonathan's prison.
Jonathan has a small cot in the room, a basic comfort, but this time Jonah finds him in the corner of the room, curled up into a ball; it's the furthest the chain attached to the collar around his neck allows him to go. Jonathan's eyes are closed, his long lashes clumped together and his cheeks damp, and even though he has stopped sobbing, a little whimper escapes from him every now and then.
Jonah lingers by the doorway, watching his captive, wondering if Jonathan sleeps deeply enough for him to approach. He decides to risk it, approaching the broken man on the floor.
Kneeling down, Jonah reaches out to stroke Jonathan's dark hair out of his face.
"All you needed to do was to come back to me," he whispers. "We wouldn't have to do this."
Is Jonathan aware of his presence somewhere in his subconscious? Can he hear Jonah's scolding words, does he feel wounded by them? Jonah wants every answer to be yes. Jonah wants all of this to hurt, and his dearest Jonathan to know what he has lost.
He lets his hand wander upon Jonathan's face, stroking his cheek, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. Jonathan has always been beautiful to look at; even now, Jonah could lose himself in the sight of him for hours. He brushes the back of his hand down along the side of Jonathan's neck before bringing it up again, enjoying the soft texture of his skin. He strokes his finger over Jonathan's soft, full lips, sticks it between them.
That turns out to be a mistake.
Jonathan doesn't open his eyes; he just opens his mouth and clamps down on Jonah's finger as hard as he can. Jonah cries out before he knows it, striking Jonathan on his face before grasping his jaw, pulling his hardest. He manages to part Jonathan's mouth just enough to get his finger out, and strikes him again.
"You just don't learn, do you?" he snaps, backing up from Jonathan as fast as he can. Jonathan's eyes are open now, and he sits up in the corner while staring at him, a smirk playing on his lips.
"I didn't even bite hard enough to draw blood," Jonathan says, his tone mocking. "You are the one who doesn't have to do this, Mr. Magnus. I'll never give into you."
"We shall see about that." Face burning with humiliation, Jonah struggles up on his feet, and hurries to leave the room before Jonathan has any bright ideas about bouncing on him.
Yet, as he closes the door, finger and pride aching, Jonah can't help but smile. Though painful, this fire is what he wants. He wants to know there is still a lot of Jonathan Fanshawe left for him to break.
Jonah just has to remember not to let his own guard down.
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Ooh, 4 or 7, GwenElias 👀 I'm okay if it's smutty, but anything works :3
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How do you write so fast and so consistently too? All while making sure they read good, it’s really impressive ^^
Thank you for your kind comment! <3 I do my best, I suppose my writing style is just suitable for what I do. But I'm glad people enjoy the results!
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