#does this even count as a ficlet anymore
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Zosan haircut time!!!!
had to write this after getting the idea from my last post lmao. I love the idea of Sanji being like "ugh you look fucking terrible" and then forcing Zoro to take care of himself. they're so stupid and gay and in love omg.
beginning part is mostly Zoro and Nami but that's ok because they're wlw/mlm solidarity always!!!!
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More than anything, Zoro loves sunbathing on the Sunny's deck. Something about the warm light makes him want to melt into the wood. However, Zoro finds it very hard to enjoy the sun when it is boiling outside, and he swears he can hear his sweat sizzle when it meets the wooden flooring.
"We're going through a summer climate, just wait it out." Nami sips on her martini, laid out on a lounge chair and taking cover under an umbrella.
"Easy for you to say, you witch. You stole all the shade." While Nami's basking in the shadow of her parasol, Zoro's sprawled out on deck, sweating his fucking balls off. His whole body is damp, and he's stripped down into just a pair of loose shorts to cool off.
"Go hang out with your boyfriend in the kitchen," She says.
"He's not my boyfriend. I fucking hate you."
"The feeling's mutual, you sweaty loser."
Zoro groans, peeling himself off of the floor to sit up and comb his fingers through his shaggy hair. It's too long to stay out of the way, and it's uncomfortably wet where it sticks to his forehead. Zoro would tie it back, but it's too short for that. In short, he is suffering.
"I'm gonna die from heatstroke because of you," Zoro shakes the excess moisture from his hands.
Nami scoffs. "Stop whining, hop in the sea or something."
Zoro briefly considers this, but decides that's more effort than it's worth and tries to take a nap instead.
Zoro hears someone stroll out of the galley, and cracks his eye open to see Sanji balancing a tray of smoothies in one hand with a beach towel in the other. He's dressed down, an open Hawaiian shirt and blue shorts replacing his usual suit.
"Hello, my darling, Nami-san! I've just prepared smoothies. Would you like one?"
"Yes, Sanji-- thank you so much," She says smugly, while looking directly at Zoro. "You're a saint, You know that?"
He watches the cook hand Nami a drink from the tray, and Sanji's eyes follow her gaze to the floor where he's lying. "Oh my god, marimo. you look like -excuse my language, Nami-san- a fucking caveman."
"What are you talking about?" Zoro would pick a fight, but it's way too hot to bother.
The blonde cringes. "Your hair looks like someone ate it and then spat it back out onto your head."
"Okay, well, fuck you too then!" God, everyone's out for him today. What has Zoro ever done to deserve this?
"Ugh. Stand up, you dunce." Sanji nudges Zoro's head with a sandaled foot. "You need a haircut."
"I can give myself a haircut." Zoro nods in the direction of his swords, trying to move as little as possible.
"Are you insa- no! I'm cutting your hair, properly. Now get up."
"I don't wanna."
"I swear to god," Sanji sighs. "My dearest Nami, do you mind holding this for a bit?"
Nami peers at the two of them through her oversized sunglasses, a knowing smirk on her face as she takes the tray from Sanji's hands. "No problem."
Zoro doesn't have time to get a word in before Sanji reaches for his ear and bodily drags him all the way to the bathroom.
-----
"I don't understand how you let it get this bad," The blonde lectures.
Zoro grumbles as he slouches on a stool in front of the bathroom sink, glaring at his own reflection. Sanji was partially right with his comment earlier - Zoro's hair is a damp, scraggly mess on top of his head right now.
From where he is, Zoro can see the cook as he lines up all his fancy hair-cutting stuff, whispering insults under his breath. He looks kind of...domestic, out of his suit. It's the one thing Zoro appreciates whenever the Sunny passes through climates like this.
"Okay, I'm going to attempt to fix this mess, and you are going to stay still," Sanji asserts as he slides into place behind Zoro. "as in, do not move."
"I know what 'stay still' means."
"Surprising. I thought you only spoke in grunts."
They both fall silent, Sanji draping a towel over Zoro's shoulders and clicking a button on the clippers in his hand. Gentle fingers push Zoro's head forward to access the strands at the nape of his neck. The whirring of the machinery and Sanji's hums every now and then are the only sounds in the cramped bathroom, and Zoro almost falls asleep to the feeling of the blond's hands in his hair.
"Hey." Sanji delivers two sharp taps to the back of Zoro's head. "Stop slouching, you're making it uneven."
"I'm so hot."
"I'm sure you are, you meathead. sit up."
Zoro begrudgingly straightens his back, getting a better view of the cook's freckled face reflected in the mirror. He always gets freckles when it's sunny out. They look like little constellations, scattered across his cheeks like that. Zoro wants to touch them so badly.
A few minutes pass, and Sanji moves to the front of his hair, taking a black comb from the counter to parse through the mess draping over Zoro's forehead. His face is scrunched in concentration, a crease between his eyebrows visible as he snips away with a pair of silver scissors. Zoro just...watches, staring intently into the other man's eyes. He's not sure if he's delirious from the heat, but is the cook's face turning red?
Sanji pauses his ministrations to frown at him. "Stop fucking looking at me. It's creepy."
"Sorry, sir." That earns him a snort and another smack to the side of his head. Zoro closes his eye (reluctantly. very reluctantly).
It feels like forever before Sanji finishes up his hair, ruffling it slightly before commanding Zoro to open his eyes.
The haircut is cropped close to his neck in the back, his overgrown sideburns shaped to follow his hairline. His hair is still a bit long on top, but it doesn't fall over his face.
Zoro's reflection looks better; neat, almost. He actually really likes it.
"It's okay, I guess." Zoro's lying through his teeth. It's fantastic, anything Sanji ever does is fantastic.
Sanji looks at him through the mirror. "Hm. Handsome little marimo." He nods in self-approval before packing up all his stuff, whisking the towel from around Zoro's shoulders to take to the laundry room.
Zoro sits there, bewildered, watching the other man maneuver around the tiny space unbothered- what?
He turns to look at Sanji as the blonde saunters out of the bathroom, definitely already busying himself with something else.
When Zoro turns back to his reflection, he doesn't fight the tiny smile that crosses his face. Sanji thinks he's Handsome.
The smile's gone just as quick as it came, replaced with a scowl as he hears a female voice giggling through the wall to his right.
"Nami, I'm going to murder you."
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Nami was eavesdropping the entire time lmfao.
Nami, to Zoro: wow so handsome!! such a handsome wittle marimo arent you so wittle?? ooga booga doo!!!
Zoro: i am not above killing lesbians.
Anyway BRAND NEW HC that Sanji gets freckles when he's in the sun he's such a cutie patootie i love him.
Pre-slash Zosan domesticity fuels my soul <33333
ALSOO!!! opening up asks cuz im running out of ideas :P if you ask me for something I'll probably write it thanks
#one piece#zosan#stupid gay people#roronoa zoro#vinsmoke sanji#zosan brainrot#cat burglar nami#one piece nami#platonic zonami CANON#wlw/mlm solidarity#does this even count as a ficlet anymore#my posts are getting progressively longer with each one i write#its 4am#i haven't slept in 72 hours
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Becoming Phantom - Clone^2 (and by extension, clone danny)
I said I would make it, and so i did! Here's a little ficlet of how danny became Phantom - the human ghost-fighting vigilante in the clone^2 and clone Danny au. Since this does include themes of dissection/vivisection, i'll put in a minor trigger warning list down below.
TW: experimentation - implied torture and vivisection/dissection of ghosts
TW: Non-graphic mentions of injuries and blood
TLDR: Danny's parents have been catching ghosts ever since the portal was opened after Danny's lab accident. Danny knows this because he can hear them screaming from the basement. After finally telling his friends about it, he resolves to free the ghosts - and he does. He ends up having a conversation with one of the ghosts, and comes to the decision that he will catch ghosts before his parents do to prevent this kind of harm from happening again.
word count check: 4.9k
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His parents caught another ghost.
Danny can tell because he can hear their screaming from the kitchen, even with the doors closed. It's horrific - the voice is doubled over itself like something out of one of Sam's demonic horror movies, and Danny's heart races like he's run a mile at the sound.
It warps and twists, and almost sounds like its saying 'please.'
He rubs his chest uncomfortably, and pushes his breakfast away from him. His appetite lost and his stomach churning with a deep sense of dread.
Across the table, Jazz notices, and her eyes narrow dangerously at his hand gripping his shirt - right over his heart. He just got out of the hospital last month, and he knows what she's thinking - they don't want to have to send him back.
"I'm fine." He blurts out immediately, dropping his hand. He's not fine, but it's because he feels ill as the lights above flicker and another terrified shriek echoes through the floorboards. He swallows, ill. "I- it's just-" his eyes flick to the door to the lab. "the lab."
Jazz's lips press into thin line, and she pushes her chair back and stands up. "I hate that they're doing this," she says, stomping towards the lab. "It's inhumane, Danny. They're people too, even if they don't look like us!"
Before the portal, Danny might've just shrugged his shoulders and not said anything. He never really cared about his parents' ghost hunting stuff, but figured that since they knew more about it, their rants about them being unfeeling were correct.
Now, though? When he's been woken up in the middle of the night by the house rattling and his ears ringing with the pained cries of one of the ghosts' in the basement? His heart beating so fast he thinks he's been transported back to the lab a month ago, lying on the floor after being electrocuted by the portal?
He's really not so sure anymore. And he thinks he's starting to agree with Jazz. This isn't right. He doesn't think so, at least.
An unsure 'hm' comes out of his throat, eyes tracking Jazz as she swings the heavy metal door open and breathes in deep. "HEY!" She yells, her voice miraculously sounding out over the ghost screaming. The screams stop. "MOM! DAD! CUT THAT OUT, YOU'RE SCARING DANNY!"
There's no sound, and Danny sighs a breath of relief. Not that it does much to slow his anxious heart, the shrieks are burned into his ears, and he's already thinking about leaving now rather than later. He can meet Tucker at his house.
His parents - his mom, actually - appears at the entrance to the lab, her hands drip bright, ectoplasm green, and there's splatters of it across the front of her suit and goggles like blood. Danny feels white in the face, and Jazz looks enraged.
Mom pulls off her goggles, frowning apologetically. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Your father and I just got carried away, we caught this one just this morning by the park." She says, as if that makes it any better. Danny's eyes are glued to the ectoplasm dripping onto the floor. "We'll wait until you get to school."
Danny wishes they wouldn't do this at all. But he just nods mutely, unable to make his lead-heavy tongue do anything. Jazz speaks for him, and whirls on mom like a tornado about to break loose. "At school? This shouldn't be happening at all - it's wrong, mom!"
Jazz has been the only one vocal about this whole thing ever since mom and dad came home with a ghost trapped in one of their nets - their thermos wasn't working - while Danny was on sick leave after he got out of the hospital. Danny still remembers the utter shock he was in after mom and dad came in dragging it behind them.
The ghost looked like a grown woman, but it - she - had the brightest blue eyes he'd ever seen, and ice-like skin. She'd been thrashing in the net, saying something in a hissy, whispering language that made static build behind his eyes. It had surprised him that he could somewhat make out what she was saying.
It had been fascinating. Up until the screaming started.
He watches Mom make a face that looks like endeared annoyance, and she turns to Jazz with a light sigh. "You're a kind girl, Jazz, but ghosts aren't human, sweetheart. We've told you this." And they have, multiple times. It's become a reoccurring argument.
"Does it matter?!" Jazz exclaims, her cheeks turning an inflamed red with indignancy. She looks appalled. "They're still in pain! You're hurting them!"
Danny silently nods, but they don't see. Jazz is glaring at mom with the burning anger of the sun and Mom just looks exasperated. "Your father and I know this already, Jazmine." Mom says, her arms crossing across her chest.
Jazz's mouth drops open.
Danny's almost does the same. The bone-chilling blood rush leaves him shivering, and his vision spots out in black, fuzzy dots for a few seconds. Maybe, he thinks, it's his heart stopping again with the cold horror.
They know this?
They know this?
And they're still doing it?
He thought he knew his parents - now he's second-guessing himself.
Jazz is just as much at a loss for words as Danny is. And then her expression shutters closed with a fury-kind of icy. "Danny," she says, still staring down their mom. "Go get your stuff, I'm driving you to school."
Normally, he hates how.. parent-y Jazz gets. She acts like a second mom, and like a helicopter one to boot. It drives him nuts on the worst of days. Right now though, he's already rising to his feet before he's even opening his mouth.
"Okay." He croaks, and beelines it up the stairs for his backpack. He doesn't look at mom when he comes back down, he doesn't think he can. He can see her still-dripping hands in the corner of his eye though.
------
"Man, you look like shit." Tucker says the moment Danny sits down in their homeroom class, he's frowning. Danny doesn't say anything to him, he just grunts and drops his head into his arms.
Sam, sitting behind Danny, leans across the aisle and smacks Tucker in the arm. He yelps in pain, and rubs the spot she hit with a glare. "He's right though," Sam says, leaning over his shoulder. "You looked like you were gonna yak over the front row when you walked in."
"It's good that you didn't," Tucker grumbles, "Dash would've killed you."
Danny, despite the shit morning, manages a smile and tilts his head so that his cheek is resting on his arm instead. "Mr. Lancer wouldn't've let him." Sam sniffs, and her fingers are in his hair already - it's been growing out for a while now. He meant to cut it but then the lab accident happened, and he was in the hospital, and then on sick leave, and -- long story short, he was growing it out.
Besides, Sam pulling it back for him was relaxing, and he feels the tension bleeding out of his shoulders already. His anxious heart slowing. "Yeah, he's been weirdly protective since the accident." He says. It was kinda nice, Dash was being forced to back off - finally, more than he was before.
"Probably because if you have a heart attack in class from Dash bullying you, he'll be liable." Tucker snorts, relaxing back into his chair. Up front, the three of them see Dash shoot them a glare from over his shoulder. He probably heard them -- and Tucker doesn't help by giving him an innocent, too-wide grin.
There's a tug, and Danny lifts his head slightly as Sam ties his hair back with whatever hairband she procured out of nowhere. And she says she's not a witch, honestly.
His smile falters, however, when Sam leans back around his shoulder with a frown still evident on her face. "Seriously though, what's up? You were really pale -- paler than normal, that is."
Danny doesn't really wanna tell them - he's kept the whole 'my parents are torturing ghosts' thing to himself ever since he first woke up to the house shaking. It wasn't any secret though that there were ghosts now actually 'infesting' Amity Park though, they'd been popping up ever since the portal turned on.
But Jazz says talking about things helps alleviate stress of what's burdening you, and Danny doesn't usually listen to her. She's his annoying older sister, of course he doesn't. But... this... wasn't really something he wanted to keep secret forever, either.
His teeth sink into his bottom lip, and he averts his eyes. It's like tearing off a band-aid, Danny, he thinks, just... blurt it out. "My parents are torturing ghosts in the basement." He says, only to immediately wince as both Sam and Tucker drop their jaws.
"What!?" They both yell in unison, and Danny ducks his head down as everyone else sitting around them turn their heads.
"Not so loud!" He hisses, peeking through his arms and glaring at the both of them. They both grimace, embarrassment dusting red across Sam's face and Tucker's darkening slightly, and duck their heads down towards him.
"Sorry, what!?" Tucker whispers back at him, his face all scrunched up in disbelief. Sam's redness has faded into pale horror and -- and yeah, yeah, Danny gets it. He feels that way too.
"They keep catching the ghosts and dissecting them." He whispers, and god, he feels sick just saying it. Tucker's face falls slack, and he looks about as ill as Danny feels. "I don't- I don't know what to do about it, I keep waking up to them screaming, and Jazz keeps getting into fights about it with them."
"Oh my god." Sam mutters, her hands pressing together and covering her mouth. Danny nods mutely, chewing on his lip.
"They know its hurting them." He adds, and its still dizzyingly terrifying to think about. He thought he knew his parents. He thought he knew them. He guesses that saying of people being multi-faceted was true. "They don't care."
Sam and Tucker both look green. Or as close to green as they can get. "That's- that's inhumane." Sam breathes, and Danny huffs sardonically - funny, that's what Jazz said this morning. That's what she keeps saying. "And there's really nothing you can do?"
"Not unless I go into the lab myself and release them," he mutters, hiding half his face in his arms. "And I haven't been back in there since I got electrocuted." His parents wouldn't allow it, and it's not like he he was chomping at the bits to go back inside anyways.
...Hm.
"I'm sorry, Danny." Tucker says, his voice low and horrified, "that's- that's awful."
Yeah. He knows.
--------
This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea.
Where was Danny you ask? Sneaking down into the lab at sometime past midnight, long after his parents have gone to bed. It's been a week since he said, sarcastically, that the only thing he could do was release the ghosts in the lab, and it hasn't left his head.
Even though he was utterly terrified as he took slow, sneaky steps down the stairs. The thought had been keeping him up at night. He could do it. He could go down into the lab and let them go. He could do something.
It's not like his parents had put a lock on the door. He hadn't even thought about it - if he thought about it, he'd back out. So when he heard his parents go to sleep that night, he waited an hour before sneaking out.
Every sound felt so loud, and his heart had raced in his ears as he creaked open the door to the lab, and closed it behind him for good measure. And his hands were shaking as he reached the bottom of the steps and stepped into the lab for the first time in two months.
And good god, did he almost regret it. There were ghosts in cages of all kinds, and ectoplasm seeping down onto the floor of their cages. They were clutching their chests, of which bled sluggishly through stitched up y-scars. They were moaning, and crying, curled up in the back like frightened animals. And there was a metal table in the center of a room that was stained green, green, green.
"Oh my god." He breathes, horror driving itself up into his throat with the churning of his gut. That's another thing he almost regrets - if only because half a dozen ghosts all snap their heads towards him, and it becomes pandemonium in an instant.
Rattling, yelling, crying, they're all screaming at him. Either to tell him to go away, to give them mercy, or to spew threats at him. It's in that same, hissy language that he's heard before. Whispery, echoing, and overlapping like multiple languages being played backwards and forwards at the same time. It gives him an immediate headache as his mind tries to comprehend and translate it.
Go away. Don't hurt us. Go away. I'll tear you apart. Leave. Leave. LEAVE.
It's all so much. Danny wants to throw himself up the stairs and back up to his room in a prey-driven instinct to flee, flee, flee. He doesn't. He covers his ears and digs his nails into his hair.
He yells. "I'M NOT LEAVING. BE QUIET!" and somehow, it silences everyone in an instant. He looks up, and everyone is staring at him, their multi-colored eyes burning into him.
Tentatively, he lowers his hands, they're shaking. He's still so scared. But courage isn't a lack of fear, its doing something despite it. He blinks back the terrified sting in his eyes, and twiddles with his hands. "I'm- I'm not here to hurt you." He stammers, "I promise. I'm not my parents."
It's silent for a long moment, and then there's an animalistic-like hiss from his left. He turns his head, and there's a ghost of a man curled up in a cage, staring him down with a thunderous look on his face. "Liar." He hisses, his voice warping in that hissy language. There are goat-like horns protruding from his head, and his eyes are yellow and slitted. He's dripping ectoplasm from his chest.
Danny swallows the bile in his throat.
And frowns. "I'm not lying." He says, and the ghost doesn't get hostile, much to his surprise. But there's a ripple of murmurs that spreads through the room like a wave at a ballgame. The ghost that spoke stares at him, then squints.
"You understand us, child?"
And - okay, Danny doesn't like the 'child' comment. He's fourteen for goodness sake, and he bristles silently like it's an insult, but he's no there to argue, he's here to help. So he swallows his pride and starts to walk towards the closed portal.
His legs are shaking, he's afraid they're gonna give out beneath him. The portal scares him, more than it did when he first saw it. But maybe that's because when he first saw it, he hadn't almost died from it.
His heart is pounding in his ears. Is it going to give out again, will he have to go to the hospital again? Despite his insistence that he's fine, Danny's heart hasn't beat right ever since the accident. He's checked. He spent an hour every night with his fingers pressed against the pulse point at his throat, at his wrist, terrified of the slow-beating he could feel thrumming against the skin.
Hearts aren't supposed to beat that slow - that much he knows. He's afraid he's going to drop dead if it drops any lower.
"Of course I do." He swallows, glancing back at the ghost. Everyone's eyes are on him, they burn into him, curious, wary, afraid. He's in front of the portal, in front of the keypad to open it. Shit, did dad put in a password? "Am I- am I not supposed to?"
He pauses to look at the ghost, and the man has moved to stare at him from a new angle in his cage - god he's gonna need to find the key. Mom and dad probably have it in their desk, right?
The ghost is silent. "...No. You're not." He says, and his head tilts to the side as Danny mentally translates in his head. he looks at Danny like he's trying to inspect him, like he's trying to look into him like his parents have looked into the ghost. "What is your name, child?"
"I'm not a child." He bites out, and immediately winces. Shit- he just said not to antagonize them. But the ghost doesn't look offended. In fact, he just grins a sharp, toothy grin like a shark, and raspy giggles and titters echo through the room.
...That's... probably a good sign. "Um," he continues, and turns his back to the keypad. Dad's birthday? He punches into the keys. "I'm- uh, Danny. Danny Fentom- Fanton- Fenton. My parents are- uh, the ones who took you guys." The keypad buzzes and the bar spots red. Wrong password. Dammit.
"Phantom." The ghost says, and the name crawls like a spider across the walls, sneaking up his spine and ringing in the air like the leftover taste of rain and thunder. the rest of the ghosts whisper it amongst themselves.
Danny shivers, it feels like a weight in his chest. It's Fenton, he thinks, but doesn't correct. He doesn't want to push his luck with the being that could tear him apart. "Uh, sure."
He punches in mom's birthday. Wrong. He puts in Jazz's. Wrong. "How come we haven't seen you down here, Phantom?" The ghost asks, and Danny shrugs helplessly. "You are the Danny that the unknown girl yells about?"
He tries his own birthday. Wrong. Fuck. What's the password? The tremor in his limbs worsens with his anxiety, and he tries to keep his breathing steady. What if he can't get this open? What if he can't get them out? He nearly forgets to answer the ghost, and licks his dry lips. "Um- yeah, that's me. The Danny guy." He says, turning to the cages again. "And uh, I don't come down here because my parents don't allow it."
The ghost, uh, goat-man? Tilts his head, there are whispers throughout the room that pick up. And Danny feels like the kid late to an all school assembly and now has to walk past the whole school to find a seat.
Goat-man smiles again, or bares his teeth? "You are the reason why the human doctors haven't cut into us more than they already have." And- that's- that's good? He thinks?
"That's- good, right? You- you don't want to be cut open, so it's good that I, uh, indirectly stopped it a few times?"
A round of titters goes through the room again. The man's grin widens inhumanly so, and Danny's heart spikes with fear. "Yes, it's a good thing, Phantom child." He says, "Why is it that your parents do not let you come down here?"
Danny stares, and swallows again, dry. The back of his neck tingles, and he tastes electricity on his tongue. "I had an accident down here, um, nearly two months ago." His eyes flick to the cable cord where the portal was plugged in, and his heart flutters with the images of green that got burned behind his eyes. He looks away. "The portal, it, ah, electrocuted me. I was in the hospital because it nearly killed me."
"It did kill you." The ghost says immediately, and terror fills up in Danny like water flooding a room. What? What? What? He was alive. His heart was beating, he was alive. "But only for a moment. You've been touched by death, Phantom."
That was so fucking ominous. And terrifying. And terrifyingly ominous. And also really horrifying. Danny does a swift pirouette and turns back to the keypad. Time to figure out the passcode and not think about that, ever again, actually.
"Wow." He rasps, his mind numb as he punches in a random code of numbers and gets a red screen. "How reassuring. Tell death I want a refund." He gets laughter again, and his shoulders scrunch up to his ears.
"It is the reason you can understand us, then." The ghost says behind him. "We are not speaking your language child - rather, you are speaking ours."
Again. Fucking ominous. Danny furrows his brows and stares hard at the keypad - if he was dad, and he wanted to put a password lock on his lifetime achievement in something that was easy to remember and equally important, what would it be?
Oh. Right.
He bites back a groan - how obvious. Danny's an idiot. Or maybe just so scared witless that his brain isn't working right. "Fudge." He grumbles, and punches it into the keypad. It dings green.
Of - fucking - course. Danny rolls his eyes.
He hears a hiss, and Danny rapidly scuttles back as the massive blast doors twisted open like something out of a scifi movie - he'd be geeking out if he wasn't aware of his own rapid heartbeat. Like a gun charging up, an unearthly green glow appears at the back of the tunnel an d then rapidly moves towards him, growing larger and larger.
Danny flinches, half-convinced its going to hit him. He was going to be vaporized, and he brings up his arms to protect himself. But nothing happens, and he peeks open an eye that he closed when the ghost from before murmurs for him to open them.
The portal is - is, well. Indescribable. It fills the dark room with its glow, swirling like a those weird, shimmering liquid dyes put into martini glasses in those aesthetic gifs on the internet. And the light it casts on the walls shimmers and moves like the aurora borealis.
Danny is speechless. It's... oddly beautiful. And terrifying. There's a whole new world in that dimension - if he steps through he won't be on earth anymore.
And... his parents wanted to eradicate the people on the other side of it?
He whirls on foot, his back to the portal - a thing that fills him with dread. his shaking - its worse. Danny almost thinks his feet will give out. "Do - do any of you know where mom and dad keep the keys to the cages?" He asks, but he's already stalking towards the desk on the other side of the room.
The people in the cages grow restless, and they've been silent for the most part - but with the portal open, and him going to find the keys, they'd begun to grow talkative. They were moving more in the cages, talking to each other, excitement filling the air with so much hope Danny could feel it resonating between his ribs.
A new voice, quiet and feminine, speaks up on the opposite side of the goat-man's cage. She's closer to the desk, and she has also been cut open. There are black tears staining her face, and her shock white hair floats like she's underwater. Immediately, on instinct, Danny's head supplies him with a word.
Banshee.
"In the bottom drawer, Phantom." She whispers, her voice lilting and melodic. Her pitch black eyes follow him across the room. "I've seen them put it there after putting us back into our cages."
He nods mutely, and again feels horrified by their treatment from his parents. His pace quickens to the desk, and just as the banshee woman said, there are keys in the bottom drawer sitting on top of a bunch of research papers that have a suspicious green stain on them.
Danny ignores the stain and grabs the keys, holding them up as he closes the drawer. When he turns back to the cages, all eyes are on him. "Um," he rasps, "I found the key." Who do I free first?
His eyes land on the banshee woman first, she's the closest to the desk. And in an arc he follows the lineup to the other side side of the room. He moves to the banshee woman's cage first, and she perks up as he kneels down to the door.
"I'll- I'll go in a circle, first." He announces, fingers fumbling with the key as he inserts it into the hole. The banshee woman had her fingers - clawed and knife-like, capable of tearing out his throat in an instant - around the bars of her confinement. She was staring at him intently.
He hesitates, and looks up. Her eyes are pitch black, he noticed this before, but this close its like its threatening to suck him in and send him swirling through a blackhole. "If- if I free you," he stammers, licking his lips, "will you attack me?"
The banshee woman bares her razor teeth at him, and reaches through the bars to touch his face. It takes all Danny's restraint not to flinch as her nails drag down his cheek softly. "No," she says, "you're freeing us, Phantom. We will not attack you."
Danny.. will just have to take her word for it. He nods, and with a sharp twist of his wrist unlocks the cage with one hand, and flings open the door with the other. In an instant, the banshee dives forward -- Danny thinks she's lunging at him, and flinches violently.
She goes through him instead, leaving him with a bone-deep chill and a heartbeat in his ears. He turns, and sees her dive through the portal like a swimmer diving into a pool.
There is silence throughout the room. And then everyone else begins to clamor once again, just like when Danny first walked in. Danny hurries to hush them - he said he was going around the room! He'll free them, but be quiet, or you'll wake his parents!
He rushes for the next cage, and one by one opens each and every cage. There are cheers, and thank yous, and cries of gratitude. He has to help the weaker ghosts out of their cage and limp them towards the portal. His shirt and hands are stained green with their blood.
(When he goes back up to his room later, he throws it off and throws it away. He can't stand the sight of it, and he scrubs his hands until they're raw.)
It's a lot for Danny to not burst into tears, or to throw up. Until finally he reaches goat-man's cage, and releases him. He is one of the ghosts too weak to fly on their own, and so Danny lets him lean against him and helps him to the portal.
"Will you be okay?" He asks once they are at the threshold, the portal hums softly this close to it. Almost like its trying to beckon Danny inside, like a siren song. Danny ignores it. "Will everyone else?"
"We will heal, Phantom." Goatman says, holding a hand to his chest. He looks tired, this close, and Danny can feel him looking at him, even without any pupils to show it. "Once back inside the Infinite Realms our bodies will heal on its own."
Danny nods silently, and his frown begins to wobble. The stress he's been under is finally starting to take its toll, and he is emotionally exhausted. There is still a lingering taste of fear in the air that doesn't belong to him - but the ghosts that have left. "I'm sorry." He croaks, his voice cracking. "I didn't - I didn't think you guys were human. I'm sorry."
The ghost's expression softens, but he still looks stern. "We aren't human." he says, and Danny frowns, confused. The ghost continues, and reaches out a long finger to tap against Danny's chest, where his heart is. "But do not think for a moment that humanity can be measured by the sound of a heartbeat, child. We are just as humane as you living can be, and we are just as sentient and sapient as you. Do not forget that, and you will not become your parents."
There's nothing for Danny to say to that, except nod once again. His tongue is heavy in his mouth, made of lead. "This will happen again," he continues, and his eyes prick, "they're gonna keep catching ghosts and bringing them down here." And hurting them.
Goatman nods curtly, and raises an eyebrow at Danny. "What will you do to stop them, Phantom?" He asks, "You could keep releasing them after they have been already caught, but that will not stop the pain they face under the hands of your parents."
He's right. He's right. And if Danny keeps releasing them afterwards, his parents will grow suspicious. They'll start sticking around trying to catch whoever is freeing the ghosts. And Danny doesn't want to face what will happen if his parents realize that he's the one freeing ghosts.
His eyes flicker rapidly around the room, trying to think of a solution - what could he do? What can he do?
His eyes land on the thermos sitting on the table.
"I... I could catch ghosts?" He says, unsure, and looks back to the ghost. He nods, beckoning for Danny to continue. "I can catch them in the thermos before my parents do, and then release them back to the Zone."
"That will work." The ghost says, "The thermos doesn't hurt to be in, it's merely cramped. Will you follow through on this?"
"Yes."
The ghost smiles at him a third and final time, his teeth glinting in the green portal light. "Then good luck, Danny Phantom."
He lets go, and disappears into the portal.
#dp x dc#dpxdc#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#tw mentions of blood#dpdc#clone^2#tw mentions of experimentation#dp dc#dpxdc ficlet#dpxdc au#dp x dc au#danny fenton is a clone#danny fenton is not the ghost king#danny: my name is danny fentom - fenton#ghost: hello danny phantom#i thought that was a clever way for danny to get his 'phantom' vigilante name. although if that hadnt happened he still would've chosen#phantom as his vigilante name. it just would've happened differently. danny being terrified of the ghosts but still going through with#freeing them anyways#will rpobably reblog later with a continuation of him actually deciding to sneak out as phantom. but thats a hard maybe.#its a danny phantom fic so its kinda expected for them to be OSME kind of horror elements to it. thats the best part!#i left a few details out like how the portal light made danny's hair look white from a certain angle from where the light was hitting it#alerting all ghosts but danny that danny has been affected by the infinite realms in some way and was not as human as he seemed.#altho that was obvious by the fact that he could understand ghostspeak when no living being should be able to#ghost: dont judge humanity by the sound of a heartbeat#i had another tag i was gonna put here - what was it??? will add later if. i remember#NOW I REMEMBER#parental ambuigity from the fenton parents. are they good are they bad? up to interpretation
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couldn’t get this Steddie idea out of my head, and tried writing it! this is my first ever fic/ficlet so I’m not sure how to feel about it, but I hope it came out semi good, also on ao3!
word count: 1.4k, no tw, hurt/comfort
Steve and Eddie making out and talk about feelings
**
Eddie was kissing Steve, lips wet, breathing hotly into his mouth. He could do this forever, just feeling Steve on him, around him. Steve was beautiful and looked so good. Downright sinful. His soft hair tousled, his smooth skin against Eddie’s. Steve was letting out little pants into Eddie’s mouth, his hands finding the crevices against Eddie’s hips and thighs. Eddie was thrumming under his skin feeling pure desire for the man.
He’s always looked so pretty, even when they were in high school together. He remembers staring at Steve from the other side of the cafeteria, wondering if he even noticed the freak. Now they were in bed together and Eddie had him all to himself. This was more than he had dreamed.
Eddie’s hands splayed across Steve’s sides, climbing higher into his hair where he tugged some strands at the back of Steve’s neck. Eddie was feeling hot all over, he could feel his blush spreading over his ears, and his body pushing up into Steve’s. Steve lowered his head to Eddie’s neck and started leaving open mouthed kisses. Eddie felt a blissful shiver travel through his body. He was so lost in the feeling of Steve, he almost didn’t register the question the boy had asked him.
“When did you know?” Steve had asked the question breathlessly, still tucked into Eddie’s neck.
“Huh?”
Eddie was so blissed out, he had no idea what Steve was talking about.
Steve laughed against his neck, making Eddie ticklish for a few seconds, before feeling turned on.
Steve pulled back to look at Eddie, “When did you know you loved me?”
Eddie laughed softly, “I don’t know, since high school?”
Steve paused. That didn’t seem to be the answer he was expecting since he tilted his face with his brows creased.
“You didn’t even know me.”
Eddie felt the tension shift and tried to salvage the conversation so they could go back to making out, with Steve’s mouth preferably on Eddie’s.
“Didn’t need to. I knew you were pretty.”
Steve jerks back even more. Not even within arm’s length anymore. Eddie was starting to feel very cold and bare, what just happened? He just wanted to pull Steve back in, and feel against every inch of his body.
“What do you mean?” Steve’s eyes were roaming Eddie’s face like he was searching for something, but Eddie didn’t have a clue of what he could be looking for or what answer Steve wanted to hear.
“What?” Eddie was so confused, he didn’t know where this was going, just that this was going downhill so fast.
“You just thought I was pretty?”
Eddie was confused by the question, didn’t Steve know he was always pretty?
“Well, yeah-”
“You didn’t need to know me? You just saw me and decided to love me because you liked what you saw? What about me? Do you even like me or were you just looking for the King to have for the night? Because I’m pretty and that’s all I’ll ever be? I’m not that person anymore, and I thought you knew that.” Steve was looking down at Eddie with a crestfallen look, and Eddie wanted nothing more than to wipe that off.
“Steve”. Eddie whispered.
Steve was glancing around the room, like he was searching for his clothes in order to make a quick escape. Eddie wanted to hold him down so he could explain, but Steve was starting to pull further away from him. Steve’s face was heartbreaking, and Eddie wanted him to know how much he really meant to him.
Eddie was starting to understand what was happening now. He didn’t mean to make Steve feel like Eddie didn’t love him. He just wanted to compliment him so he could feel his hands on his body again.
But he does love Steve, he loves everything he does. How he looks after the kids, who he is as a person, the way he cares so deeply, so loyally. How he looked after Eddie, how his hands fixed him up again, how his eyes shined when looking his way, how his heart seemed to have even some space for Eddie after everyone else.
Eddie looked up at Steve in disbelief. He reached out to feel some part of Steve, and gripped the tops of his arms so Steve couldn’t leave.
“Steve, I love you. I love who you are. I was just saying something stupid. I just used to see you all the time in high school and I always thought you were beautiful, but that’s not all you are. You’re Steve, you helped me through so much, you’re incredibly smart, you listen to my rambles, you take care of me, but more than that, I want to take care of you. You make me want to be better, to love you better. I want to be enough for you.”
“I’m sorry, I know it’s more than that, I just want to be seen to someone as more than just a pretty face. I feel like I’m a lot more, y’know?”
Steve had pushed away from Eddie, looking more closed off, like he was embarrassed he even thought Eddie only wanted the King, a piece of his old persona.
“No, I know, Stevie. I’m sorry I made you feel that way, but don’t feel sorry for having those feelings. I want us to be able to talk about it, and I want you to feel like you’re more than that to me because you are. You’re so much more than just a pretty face. I don’t want you just because of who you used to be, I want you because of who you are now. I just hope I can keep up with your past experiences.”
Eddie explained softly, sliding his arms down Steve’s to reach his hands. He held them tight and squeezed while trying to convey his thoughts. Eddie hadn’t meant to let slip that he was feeling a little insecure about Steve’s past experiences, that maybe he wouldn’t be enough. He didn’t want to throw it in Steve’s face or have him take it the wrong way, but he couldn’t help feeling that Steve might be disappointed in what Eddie could give him.
“Eds, you’re more than I ever wanted. You don’t even compare to anyone before because you actually care about me. I’m sorry I doubted that.”
“It’s okay Stevie, I forgive you. I would forgive you even more if you kissed me again though.” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows hoping to finally get his mouth on Steve’s again.
Steve giggled and shook his head while coming closer to Eddie, putting more pressure on top of him again. Eddie’s heart was full, and his cheeks were burning from the smile he was showing.
Eddie looped his arms around Steve’s neck and pulled him down so he was completely covering Eddie’s body. Steve’s hands were dipping under Eddie’s shirt, pulling Eddie as close as could while his arms encircled him. Eddie could feel the calluses on Steve’s fingers making him burn with want. Eddie pressed his lips on Steve’s and dipped his tongue to Steve’s bottom lip. Steve opened for him willingly, and Eddie wanted nothing more than to devour him.
Steve’s hands were exploring the dips of Eddie’s back and sides, while Eddie’s hands were buried in Steve’s hair. Eddie had his legs splayed open for Steve to have free reign of how close he wanted to be. Steve pressed up right against Eddie like a comforting heated blanket, and squeezed his hands around Eddie’s sides. Eddie fell pliant to Steve, and pushed his tongue deeper into his mouth. He nibbled on Steve’s bottom lip, and pulled it away.
Steve looked up with half lidded eyes and grabbed Eddie’s face, pulling him in once again. This time, Steve pushed his tongue through Eddie’s lips while Eddie breathed into his mouth. Steve’s lips were swollen from Eddie’s bites, making them feel even softer against Eddie’s. He reached under Steve’s shirt, and dragged his fingertips up Steve’s back. Steve groaned and pushed deeper against Eddie. Steve’s hand dipped lower to grip Eddie’s thigh, with his thumb rubbing softly against the inside. Eddie’s skin was tingling and he became overwhelmed with this feeling of contentment and want for Steve. He could stay like this for the rest of his life, and wouldn’t ask for anything more than the man currently on top of him.
**
This was my first try at writing something so I hope it was okay! Please let me know any thoughts or critiques!! <3
#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#steddie imagine#steddie#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#steve x eddie#eddie x steve#fanfic#first fanfic#first writing#hurt/comfort#lover boy#insecurity#insecurities#fluff#make out#pls be nice
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Might be hard to keep this one to 100 words so feel free to skip: Soulmate first meeting
Yeah, this was never going to be 100 words. LOL. That's a whole fic prompt right there. But I love soulmate AUs and my muse was in a happy place tonight, so have a 530 word ficlet.
-
Tony has seen his soulmark on other people’s skin more times than he can count. He never had a choice about it—Howard and his mom hadn’t been careful about it, so it had been thoroughly documented before he was old enough to understand the decision that had been made for him, nevermind make it himself.
With fame, money, and a very public mark come dozens of fake soulmates. He was a teenager the first time; Howard handled it. By the time Howard wasn’t around anymore, Tony had learned to assume that anyone with his soulmark was faking it. He was past the point of asking people to prove it was real. If someone showed up with his mark, he immediately cut off all contact and put his lawyers on it.
The press had fun with that. The fakers had mostly died down after a few years of lawsuits, but the press still liked to trot out Tony’s ‘uniquely cold and brutal treatment of a potential soulmate’ sometimes for fun.
He’s given up on ever meeting his real soulmate. Sometimes, on bad days, he’s convinced he’s already sent them away.
Which is why it’s such a shock when Tony hauls an injured Doctor Strange to the infirmary and spots a familiar mark peeking out from behind torn and smoldering robes.
Strange is unconscious, which is probably the only reason the mark is visible, damaged clothing aside. Tony lays him on the bed, which starts scanning him automatically, and stares at the mark for a long time.
It looks different, somehow. Every line of it is painfully familiar, but it still looks different from all the fake ones. Tony can’t help himself: he reaches out and touches it.
The moment his fingers make contact, a shock goes through him. Something deep inside Tony wrenches loose. No, no, that’s wrong, it’s not wrenching loose. No, something that he didn’t even know was missing is plugging itself into his soul. He gasps, feeling like lightning is running through his veins, and when he jerks his eyes up to Strange’s he sees that the Sorcerer is conscious now, and the same energy is sparking in his eyes. A scarred hand comes up to cover Tony’s on his chest.
“How does anyone convince themselves they can fake that?” Tony demands.
“Not everyone feels the connection when it forms,” Strange says. “That's why I didn’t tell you. I couldn’t bear the thought that you might not believe me. I was waiting until you trusted me. Until you knew me well enough to know I would never do that to you.”
“In that case, you could have told me ages ago,” Tony says, but he’s not angry.
Strange—Stephen, Tony should call him Stephen now—flushes slightly, but doesn’t look away. “I might have been scared, too,” he admits.
Not of Tony’s reaction. He’s sure of that. No, Stephen was scared for the same reason Tony was: when you’ve adapted to isolation, making a connection is terrifying.
“You’re not scared anymore,” Tony says, because he’s not. The bond thrumming between them is the most amazing thing he’s ever felt.
Stephen smiles brilliantly. “No, I’m not,” he agrees
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Thinking about writing Raf & Bee's reaction to Optimus getting in a relationship with Megatron.
The betrayal and the absolute powerlessness to do anything but accept it, because everyone else does. Raf would personally be horrified. Megatron tormented both he and Bee, specifically out of everyone else it seemed. And whereas complaints at first were okay, there'll be an expectation to not do that. Not anymore.
The bots are all he has, anyway. The only family that really sees him. Not that his other family doesn't count, but the bots know him. Miko and Jack no him, and they're okay with Megatron!
So he should be too. He doesn't want to lose them. Even if he is scared.
But Raf is friends with Knockout now, he was good to them eventually and even shares his technology with Raf in the lab. He lets him look at his material and do experiments with them, so maybe Megatron isn't so bad? It took some time for Raf to trust Knockout, but Knockout came around. Right? And if Optimus trusts him, than he must be good. Or at least can be.
Optimus would never let anyone into his life that would hurt humans. That would hurt Raf (again). So if Optimus trusts him, maybe Raf can too.
Bee on the other hand isn't a kid. He's a million years old and would rather rip out his t-cog than have to sit and watch Optimus conjunx to the person who terrorized him and his people. And he's angry.
Like--thoughts of treason angry, thoughts of defection angry. Thoughts of killing Optimus and Megatron at their ceremony angry.
And would it really be treason if Optimus betrayed him first? Would any sparklings out of their union replace Bee? Would they be more "real" than him? Would Megatron replace Ratchet?
The rage is something like he's never felt before, and he distances himself from everyone just to get away from doing something stupid. He thinks Optimus knows, which is why he doesn't stop him.
But he has Raf--and without Raf to talk to he might just have done it. And Ratchet helps too, because he understands somewhat. But Ratchet is more scared than angry, he's seen what Optimus has become after Megatron. And he doesn't want it to happen again.
And the nicer Megatron is to Raf, the easier it is for Bee to let go of his anger. All he has left now is Raf, anyway. He's the fire that reignited his own spark, so if Megatron can treat him kindly, than Bee will eventually tolerate him.
(Honestly Megatron has to do the most to win Bee over. Megatron probably just gives Raf a lab and a ship. He's the rich uncle who shows no affection but has a big checkbook.
I'm just writing a realistic approach for a fic series I have with them, and realized Bee might be Jason Todd lol. Not that I'm opposed to happy endings because most of my work has to have a happy ending, but the beginnings can be a bit rough. Especially in this case)
I have a ficlet kinda exploring this if you're interested, also follow me on twitter :D
)
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(re-asking because i think the old one was deleted?)
okay so i might have kidnapped mk!purple and turned them into a dragon
they bit my finger off, i don’t want them anymore
*dragon-mk!purple has challenged you to a staring contest*
Hi Fantarules! Your first ask wasn't deleted, I just wasn't able to get around to answering it because,
Well, I wanted to do this for it.
I hope you enjoy it >8)c
-( | )-
Cries of the Changed
An AvM Mad King Au ficlet
Written by Sammy8D257
Inspired by @fantarules677 's Dragon MK!Purple art
Word Count: 703
CW: Descriptions of painful transformations, Human/Stick turned Animal, Body Horror, Wish for death (in response to pain), Hurt No Comfort
Summary: Purple has been feeling off for a long time.
(Not canon to the main AU. Think of this as more of an AU of an AU)
[AvM Mad King AU Masterpost]
-( | )-
Purple has been feeling… off, for a long time.
Not like a headache off, though at the beginning it did feel that way, but an off that seeps into one's very core. An off that feels like something is squirming just below the surface. A writhing, slow, crawl too deep to scratch out.
Purple has been feeling this way for a long time.
They don't remember when it started.
Was it when the pain behind their eyes doubled, tripled, in intensity before fading into a dull but persistent throb? Was it when their nails grew and sharpened into razor? Not claws. Never claws. Purple was a stick figure and stick figures had rounded hands and nails. Was it when their back tensed one day and never relaxed? They were never one to workout but they could swear layers of muscle were forming underneath their elytra straps.
Was it when Purple no longer had to look up to talk to King MT? They were not yet as tall as the former king, their eyes level to his mouth, but height never mattered when the other was already cowering at their feet.
Or maybe it was when, after months of peace and established normalcy, one voice in a sea of thousands whispered so sweetly into the empty air of the void;
╎'ᒲ ʖ𝙹∷ᒷ↸
At the end of the day, it does not matter.
Purple does not know when it started.
But they do know it will not end well.
Not for them. Never for them.
So here Purple stands, at the edge of an incomplete bridge. The Endermen had not yet finished connecting one tower to the other, the yellow end stone several feet below them. It didn't matter. Purple wanted to come out here to check on the progress.
Something, anything, to feel normal.
Their stomach felt twisted, a pain worse than their inability to keep down regular food. Their muscles burned, it twitched underneath skin in unnatural ways. Their entire head ached, from their jaws to their teeth to their eyes to everything inside their skull. The dull throb now a war drum in their ears.
So here Purple stands, the spitting image of misery.
And here Purple falls, their mind so distracted by pain that they don't notice when they start to tip.
And here Purple lands, a sickening cRACK on the cold stone below.
Before the shock can even register, like a chain reaction, their body twists and convulses.
Skin rips, muscles tear, bones snap. The scream that bubbles to their lips does get to form before their jaw is cracked and broken.
It's agony. They're on fire. They're dying.
They're getting bigger. Dimly through their pain blurred mind, there's a horrible realization they're changing.
And it's agony.
Their muscles are reconnecting, their skin is sewing back together, their bones are reforming.
Purple does not know when it will end. They hope it's soon.
They hope they're dead by the end. But they know they won't be.
How cruel.
. . .
. .
.
ᔑ ↸∷ᔑ⊣𝙹リ?
∴ᒷ ᔑ⊣∷ᒷᒷ↸ 𝙹リ ᔑリ ᒷリ↸ᒷ∷ᒲᔑリ
ʖ⚍ℸ ̣ ↸∷ᔑ⊣𝙹リᓭ ᔑ∷ᒷ ᒲ⚍ᓵ⍑ ᒲ𝙹∷ᒷ ╎リℸ ̣ ᒷ∷ᒷᓭℸ ̣ ╎リ⊣
ᔑꖎ∷╎⊣⍑ℸ ̣ ꖎᒷℸ ̣ ⚍ᓭ ᓭᒷᒷ ⍑𝙹∴ ℸ ̣ ⍑╎ᓭ !¡ꖎᔑ||ᓭ 𝙹⚍ℸ ̣
.
. .
. . .
Time passes. It must have.
Purple lifts their head out of a puddle of spit, blood, and an unidentifiable black oil.
Everything still hurts but their mind is clearer than it's been in a long time.
Their head feels heavy. Their entire body feels heavy.
Wearily, they lift a hand to their face and is greeted with a sharp pain on their cheek.
A confused growl erupts from their throat. Eyes wide, they stare down at their hand.
Not a hand. A claw.
A claw with sharpened black talons and familiar purple scales.
They whip around, their head heavy with a muzzle. Their back heavy with wings. Their hips heavy with a tail.
A shock of purple in the spit and blood and black oil puddle draws their attention.
With their head bowed low, Purple stares at the reflection in the shiny liquid.
Their reflection.
And they roar, high pitched, scared, and mourning.
-( | )-
Miles away, resting on an obsidian pillar, the Ender Dragon lifts her head and echos the call.
#Sammy8D answers#fantarules677#Sammy8D writes#AvM Mad King AU#Mad King AU#Mad King Purple#cw body horror#Hurt no comfort#avm fanfic#avm purple#purple stick figure#AvM au#Alan Becker#This art is baller#Thank you so much!#I don't normally write something like this in response but I felt particularly inspired#If I need to add more tags please let me know!#Sammy8D Stick Stuff
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Fanfiction Masterlist
It's been a long time coming but it's high time I put all the fanfic I've written in one place. Let's see if I can remember to keep this post updated this time.
I have written for: NCIS, X-Files, Star Wars, and Harry Potter
***This list is in progress, and I am working on putting all my work on Archive of Our Own, be on the lookout for additions***
-.-.-.-.-
NCIS
...and next thing i knew [Tumblr]
(Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
Silly little ficlet inspired by Tony's beard in Past Present Future. Takes place sometime after season 17.
Back to You [AO3]
(Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
A year after leaving Ziva on the tarmac, Tony can't stand being without her anymore, so he books a flight straight to Israel to see her again. However, he has more than a few surprises waiting for him when he gets there.
Between Friends [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
Because there was a deleted kiss from season 10 that almost made it into Family First... and I wanted to know what that would have looked like (please, CBS, release the kiss!)
Code Z [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
Almost 9 months after Tony leaves Ziva in Israel, McGee and Bishop answer Tony's desk phone to a surprise caller, a very distressed and fearful Ziva. Can Tony make it in time to witness one of the most important moments in his life?
Count to a Million [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
Sniper? What sniper? Count to a million, Tony is on his way to Israel to be with Ziva. And she's looking forward to it just as much as he is.
Gotta Be Love [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
Tony and Ziva are having fun babysitting Kayla and Jared Vance, but apparently kids are more perceptive than they'd thought. Kayla sees something in Tony and Ziva that they, themselves, do not see.
How Does a Moment Last Forever [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Tony DiNozzo & Tali DiNozzo; Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
How a shared love of movies helped Tony and Tali through their grief.
I Saw My Friend [AO3 *TBA*] [Tumblr]
(General; Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
After discovering Ziva's private shed and journals, Agent Bishop ponders the impact of her predecessor and what she went through.
I Will [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David; Tony DiNozzo & Tali DiNozzo)
Post-17x11 - “Who knows how long I’ve loved you? You know I love you still. Will I wait a lonely lifetime? If you want me to, I will.” -The Beatles
Phantoms [AO3] [Tumblr]
(General)
Gibbs has always had conversations with the dead. Diane dropping by years after her death is no surprise. But a few other people make their own appearances, helping Gibbs to cope with his current situation and the uncertainty of the future.
Precious Cargo [AO3 *TBA*] [Tumblr]
(Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
On the flight back from rescuing Ziva in Somalia, Tony thinks about just how close he came to losing her.
Promise Me [AO3 *TBA*] [Tumblr]
(Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
What if a confession of feelings followed the scene in the elevator? Swan Song AU.
Puzzle Pieces [Tumblr]
(Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
Short season 13 ficlet, Tony musing on the missing other half of his heart.
Season 3 [AO3]
(Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
A Tiva fic for every episode of season 3. May include: missing scenes, internal thoughts of characters, and more!
Seen It All Before [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Ellie Bishop/Nick Torres; implied Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
Torres and Bishop are starting to remind Tim of two other agents he used to know... They're not as good at hiding it as they think they are. He's seen this all before.
Someday [AO3 *TBA*] [Tumblr]
(Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
After Tony and Ziva spend the evening babysitting Vance's kids, they have a little talk about Tony's apparent fear of children, and what they see in regards to a family in their own future.
Not Alone [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
Delving into Tony's thoughts during the scene at the end of "Shiva" in season 10.
To Those Who Wait [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
Following the events of 17x11 "In the Wind," Tony and Tali get the best kind of surprise on the streets of Paris.
The Walls That Tell Our Stories [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
What I think we all want to imagine happened after the doors closed on that elevator at the end of Ducky's farewell episode.
White Christmas [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David; Timothy McGee/Delilah Fielding; Jimmy Palmer/Jessica Knight)
For Christmas 2023, the NCIS family makes their way to Alaska to celebrate all together for the first time in years.
Worth It [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David)
Tag to 09x13 "A Desperate Man." Ziva tells Tony about Ray standing her up at dinner the night before, and Tony has a "what if" moment. What if Tony had been there for Ziva when Ray was not?
-.-.-.-.-
X-Files
beautiful [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Fox Mulder/Dana Scully; Fox Mulder & Maggie Scully)
Weakened by her latest round of chemotherapy, Scully doesn't feel much like herself. Mulder helps her find the strength to keep fighting.
chance encounter [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Fox Mulder/Dana Scully)
Six months after becoming fugitives from the US government, Mulder and Scully have a chance encounter with someone that is very important to them.
Field of Dreams [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Fox Mulder/Dana Scully)
Mulder's favorite movie inspires him to fill his seemingly endless free time with a special project shortly after moving into the Unremarkable House.
neither snow nor rain [AO3] [Tumblr]
rain [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Fox Mulder/Dana Scully)
It looks like a certain niche magazine is publishing again.
of our own making [AO3]
(Fox Mulder/Dana Scully)
After the events of Amor Fati, Mulder isn't quite ready to give up on a miracle. It just might take a little extra work to get there. (a.k.a. the msr adoption fic)
(Fox Mulder/Dana Scully)
Two agents, caught in the rain again. Mulder does what he's always wanted to do.
sh-boom [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Fox Mulder/Dana Scully)
In his defense, the dreams he constantly has of Scully are extremely vivid. Where does the boundary between dream and reality lie? Takes place sometime in February 1998, during Season 5.
-.-.-.-.-
Star Wars
a dozen roses [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze)
Some thoughts in the last moments of Duchess Satine Kryze's reign. Told from both Obi-Wan and Satine's perspectives.
a lily etched in armor [AO3]
(Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze; Korkie Kryze & Ahsoka Tano)
After the excitement of exposing the corruption on Mandalore, Korkie Kryze shows his new friend Ahsoka something that once belonged to his father.
concordia [AO3]
(Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze; Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi; Qui-Gon Jinn & Satine Kryze)
The year on the run lasts a little longer than expected, and the group of three fugitives turns into four.
Dancing in the Dark [AO3]
(Ben Solo/Rey)
Just a whole lotta touch-starved, lonely Ben Solo feeling a lot of feels when the Force decides to connect him to Rey. Completely self-indulgent angst and fluff.
hope like the sun [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze; Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker; Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker)
Obi-Wan wakes in a world where Anakin Skywalker never became Darth Vader, where instead of everything going wrong, everything went right. Is that too much for him to ask for?
i found gravity [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze; Padmé Amidala & Satine Kryze; Padmé Amidala & Obi-Wan Kenobi)
Padmé thinks she's introducing two of her good friends at a Senate gala on Coruscant. Turns out, they already seem to know each other. And they promptly forget she exists once they're in each other's orbit again.
Life Force [AO3]
(Ben Solo/Rey)
The force was not ready for the Skywalker bloodline to end. As Rey stands before the twin sunset of Tatooine, a special visitor stops by that reignites her hope for the future.
like a lily among the thorns [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze)
Utterly destroyed and ravaged by war, Satine wonders if she'll ever see that glimmer of light that she always hoped to see on Mandalore.
Like Life Itself [AO3]
(Ben Solo/Rey)
Rey senses a new presence in the Force after settling on Tatooine. It's not entirely Ben, and it's not entirely her. Can Ben come back to her? After all, their bond IS a power like life itself.
Mother [AO3]
(Satine Kryze & Anakin Skywalker; Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker; Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze; Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker)
Two times Anakin really needed a mother, and Duchess Satine Kryze went above and beyond to help him.
shadows [AO3]
(Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze)
When Satine's plan to acquire proof that Deputy Minister Jerec's testimony was tampered with falls through, she must seek another way to clear her own name and reestablish faith in her Mandalorian government. She may need help from a friend.
The Sound of Mandalore [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze)
Uncertain what to do with a Jedi Master who is overly attached to his former Padawan, the Jedi Council decides to send Obi-Wan Kenobi to tutor Force-sensitive Mandalorian foundlings on Mandalore in the early days of the Clone Wars. The Sound of Music except Star Wars.
this could be such a dream [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze)
In the stillness of night during their year on the run, Satine and Obi-Wan dare to imagine a life without the responsibilities they've sworn themselves to.
to live is enough [AO3]
(Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze)
When Obi-Wan Kenobi sets out to rescue someone he loves, failure isn't an option. Your typical Lawless Satine lives canon divergence, with a dash of angst.
what they grow beyond [AO3] [Tumblr]
(Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze; Satine Kryze & Korkie Kryze)
On a rare day off, Satine reflects on her legacy.
what was once a garden [AO3]
(Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze)
Fifteen years after losing Satine to Darth Maul, a time-worn Obi-Wan Kenobi makes a trip to Mandalore to pay his respects.
your future, my fate [AO3]
(Obi-Wan Kenobi & Qui-Gonn Jinn; Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze)
While traveling through hyperspace on their first mission as master and apprentice, Qui-Gon Jinn sees visions of his new padawan's future.
-.-.-.-.-
Harry Potter
Family Day at Hogwarts [AO3]
(Harry Potter & Dudley Dursley)
Hogwarts is inviting families to its first ever Family Day at Hogwarts! Against Harry's wishes, the Dursley's are sent an invitation, but only one of them is actually interested in going. A "Dudley visits Hogwarts" story.
In Loving Memory [AO3]
(Harry Potter & Severus Snape)
Harry has never really liked Halloween… for obvious reasons. A certain professor isn't really a fan either. Perhaps some healing is in the cards for both of them, after a trip out to a small village in southwest England.
#masterlist#fanfiction masterlist#my fanfiction#i write stuff sometimes#tiva#msr#obitine#ncis#txf#x-files#star wars#fanfiction#ellick
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Sam's Last Straw
A/N: This was supposed to be a ficlet or just a little something about what I would write if I actually wrote something, but instead, I actually wrote something! Prompt provided by @wingedcatninja.
Prompt: Dean x Reader, hurt/comfort
Summary: Dean and the Reader are BOTH hurt on a hunt and Sam has to take care of them. They get... needy.
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Warnings: Nothing. It's just so freaking fluffy.
Word count: 2322 words
After much squabbling (Dean was hurt worse, but you kind of had to pee), Sam carried you to the bathroom, then helped Dean get settled in his room, then carried you from the bathroom to your bedroom. He left you with an apology and a set of guilty puppy eyes, then raced off to find supplies.
You got changed into comfy clothes all by yourself, thank…Pete, maybe? Can’t thank God anymore, so might as well thank a random dude named Pete. It was about as effective. Anyway, a severely sprained ankle and bruised/possibly cracked ribs made things difficult, but not impossible. Mostly. You’d gotten off easy. Dean had broken his leg. Luckily, it was just a hairline fracture that would heal in a few weeks, but he was non-weight-bearing for a while. As were you. And the little clinic you’d visited for the x-rays was all out of crutches. Hence Sam running around like a one-armed paperhanger to help you both.
Sam appeared in your doorway, slightly out of breath and still with the guilty puppy eyes. “I could have sworn we had two sets of crutches in the infirmary, but I can only find one. There’s not even a cane or a walker or anything, so I went online and ordered us a bunch. They’ll be at the post office in a couple of days. Until then, I’ll keep helping you two and you can share the one pair, right?”
“Sam,” you replied with a sigh, “With the ribs, I can barely sit up straight without pain, so I think hanging out in bed is going to suit me just fine. Let Dean keep the crutches and I’ll just use my desk chair or something if I really need to get around.” You shrugged as your mind started to put together a makeshift walker with your chair and a towel or something so it would slide on the bunker’s cement floors.
“Although that sounds like a neat idea, I insist on you just relaxing, okay? Stay in bed, and just call me if you need anything. It’s my fault you’re hurt, anyway. I will bring you food and whatever you want until the crutches and stuff get here. Okay?”
Gosh, he looked so sad and guilty. “Sam, it’s not your fault I got hurt! The plan went sideways, that’s all! The plan always goes sideways, and it’s no biggie! You don’t have to wait on me hand and foot as an apology because there’s no apology necessary.”
“I insist!” he argued. “Really, I want to!”
You rolled your eyes and sighed. “Fine. Whatever you want. But honestly, just bring me some food every so often and I’ll be okay, okay?”
“Okay.” Sam grinned.
“But Sam—”
“Yeah?”
“Could you go to Walmart and pick up some things?” You pulled out your phone and texted him a short list. Back scratcher or something for under-cast itches, a couple of different pies, those little frozen mini pizzas Dean loved, and slide-on slippers to wear until he could get his boots on, again. “I don’t really need anything, but Dean’s gonna need some things with that cast he’s got.”
“Just for Dean?” Sam bit his lips to stop from smirking and you rolled your eyes.
“It doesn’t mean anything, Sam! In fact, don’t even tell him it was my idea.” You crossed your arms over your chest and dared him to argue with you, hiding the fear that Sam would spill the beans about your crush. Your face heated without your permission, though, giving you away.
“Yeah, yeah, doesn’t mean a thing,” Sam teased as he shut the door behind him.
Across the hall, a similar scene played out with Dean.
“Hey, Dean, I’m heading to Walmart to pick up some things. Want anything?”
Dean shifted and picked up his phone. “Yeah. Well, I don’t really need anything, but I bet Y/N does. She’s going to want to soak in the bathtub with some Epsom salts for those ribs, and she’ll want some arnica for bruising, which we’re all out of. And get her some cute fuzzy slippers to wear until she can fit her shoes on, again, or her feet will get cold on the cement floors.” Dean tapped away on his phone. “Here, I’m texting you a list.”
“Slippers?” Sam teased. “And nothing for you, huh?”
Dean looked up from his phone and glared at his brother. “I know you think it means something but it doesn’t mean anything! In fact, don’t even tell her it was my idea! Take the credit for yourself and earn her forgiveness since she got hurt saving your ass,” Dean groused.
A grimace replaced Sam’s grin. He really did feel bad about you having been where he was supposed to be and you then getting hurt. “She’s already forgiven me, and I’ve already promised to take care of her until she’s mobile again to make up for her getting hurt. I don’t need to take credit for your ideas. Why don’t you keep your credit and just tell her how you feel?”
“There are no feelings, Sam, so just take the list, get the stuff, and do whatever you need to do to help her feel better. Maybe you could watch rom coms and braid each other’s hair?”
Sam bit his lips for the second time that hour to keep a smirk from forming. “Alright, man. Whatever you say. I’m off to Walmart.”
A couple of hours later, Sam returned and dropped off the non-perishable goodies for each of them, taking credit –as requested— for picking everything out. Both Dean and Y/N were happily surprised by his thoughtfulness, and he left the dorm hallway shaking his head about the both of them.
When dinnertime came around, Sam dutifully made up a tray full of mini pizzas and pie for his brother and headed to his room. Dean was happily surprised and grinned from ear to ear.
“I was sure you were going to take advantage and make me eat rabbit food while I was down! Thanks, Sammy!”
“You’re welcome, Dean. But no, I’m saving the healthy food for tomorrow. You’ve had a rough day today,” he said as he cleaned up some trash leftover from the Walmart run. “I’m gonna go get food for Y/N. Need anything else before I go?”
“Did you get her those microwavable lasagnas she likes? And the ice cream?”
Sam sighed a sigh of the eternally put-upon. “Yes, I got the lasagnas and the ice cream.”
“Good,” Dean replied. “Go feed her. She needs sustenance to heal, Sammy!”
Sam waved an arm and walked back to the kitchen. As he entered, both his phone and the microwave dinged at the same time.
From Dean: After she’s done eating, rub her shoulders! She carries all her tension in her shoulders, and that’s going to make her ribs hurt even worse. When we watch movies, I rub the knots out and it always makes her feel better!
Sam looked to the heavens for help before remembering that was pointless. He texted a quick acknowledgment to Dean before setting up the tray of food for Y/N and heading to her room.
“Oh, this is perfect!” she said, her eyes big as she saw the feast in front of her.
“And there’s ice cream in the freezer for dessert, too.”
“Really? That’s awesome! Thank you!” As she dug into her meal, she stopped him from leaving. “Wait, Sam! Did you have any trouble getting the stuff for Dean?”
“Nope. He loves the back scratcher I found, by the way. It’s slim enough to fit inside the cast. And right now, he’s eating a couple of those mini pizzas and some pie.”
You smiled knowing that you had done something to make Dean feel better. “That’s great.” You paused, not sure how to bring up your next request. “You know, I was reading on my phone about different things you can do to help encourage healing from a broken leg, and one of the things mentioned was reflexology.”
Sam grimaced. “Reflexology? Isn’t that basically rubbing someone’s feet?”
You nodded. “Yeah! It’s supposed to help with blood flow, which helps with healing.” You brought out your phone and tapped until a drawing of a foot took over the screen. “If you focus on this area here on both feet, it’s supposed to help with leg issues.”
“Wait,” Sam said with a hand raised and his head tilted, “are you asking me to give my brother a foot rub?”
“Umm, yeah?” you responded with a hesitant smile and an attempt at puppy eyes you couldn’t be sure would work. “Please?”
Sam stared at you for far longer than was comfortable, then rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air. “Fine! I’ll do it! I’ll go rub his feet and clean up after his dinner, and then I’ll be back to rub your shoulders and clean up after your dinner, but after that, you both are on your own for the night!”
You grinned and clapped quietly. “Thank you thank you thank you!!!”
Sam didn’t reply as he stormed out of your room and back into his brother’s. Dean was just finishing his last bite of pie, licking his fork clean, so Sam moved the tray full of dirty dishes to the side and headed towards the foot of Dean’s bed. Pulling a chair over, he sat down and pushed the covers off Dean’s feet.
“Dude! What are you doing?” Dean exclaimed, pulling his unbroken leg away from Sam.
Sam grabbed the foot at the end of the cast, setting his phone on the bed nearby so he could look at the chart you had texted to him. “I’m rubbing your foot to improve circulation and speed the healing of the broken bone in your leg,” Sam said in his most serious tone. “It’s supposed to promote relaxation, too, which also speeds healing.” He pushed his thumb into the meat of Dean’s foot, causing Dean to try to pull his foot away, and yelp in pain when it didn’t work.
“Bitch, get your hands off my foot!”
“Jerk, just shut up and let me do this so you can feel better!”
“It’s not making me feel better, you pervert!”
“That’s because I’m not done, yet, you ungrateful asshole!”
Dean threw one of his pillows at Sam. “Get your grubby hands off of my feet, and if you want to rub something, go rub Y/N’s shoulders like I told you to, you dick!”
Sam blocked the incoming pillow missile, but it did stop him from trying to touch Dean’s feet. With a huff, he stood up, put the covers back to rights, moved the chair back to the desk, and stormed out of the room, straight into yours.
Before he even had the door the whole way open, you were asking him, “Would it be weird to ask you to get Dean a copy of the latest Busty Aaaaaaa!! Sam!! What are you doing??” You yelped as Sam tossed your covers aside and quickly picked you up from the bed.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered while he carried you down the hall and into Dean’s room. With the bare minimum of care that he could manage while also being completely done with both of you, he plopped you down on the bed next to Dean. He disappeared for a moment while you and Dean both looked back and forth between each other and the door. Just when you were about to ask Dean what the heck was going on, Sam returned with your slippers and the arnica cream.
He tossed your slippers onto the bed next to you, then grabbed Dean’s slippers and tossed them onto the bed, too.
They matched.
“The two of you are crazy about each other, and you’re making me crazy, so now you two can be crazy together with your crazy matching slippers and rub each other’s feet and shoulders and whatever else you want to rub on each other but I’m out! I’m going to bed!” With a huff, Sam turned and left the room, slamming the door closed behind him.
Your face heated up like it was summer on the sun. You glanced over at Dean just to see a similar blush on his cheeks. “You’re crazy about me?” you asked quietly, the tremor in your voice showing off your nervousness.
Dean ducked his head before looking at you and seeing the same emotions on your face. “Yeah. Have been for a while. You, too?”
You nod, a huge smile breaking on your face. “Yeah. It’s been a while for me, too.”
Dean wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his side, making you wince a little with the movement, but you really didn’t care.
“That’s good,” he said quietly, kissing your hair as you settled in next to him. You both lay like that for a minute, soaking everything in, making sure you’d remember this moment forever. He was so warm, solid, and comforting. And knowing that he felt about you the same way you felt about him just made all the pain from your ankle and ribs fade away.
Very carefully, so he didn’t jostle any of your collective injuries, he turned you both so you were facing each other and kissed you so sweetly you thought you might cry. It was just a gentle pressing of your lips together, with only a little extra near the end telling you how much more he wanted but knew you couldn’t have at that moment. When you separated, he looked into your eyes, and you knew you’d have all the time in the world to have more kisses, more touches, more everything you ever wanted.
He sighed; his smile almost as wide as yours.
“So, does this mean you want to rub my feet? Because that’s just weird.”
Ye olde forever tags list: @datfandombitch @manawhaat @sammit-janet @littlegreenplasticsoldier @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @iwantthedean @growningupgeek @feelmyroarrrr @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @chelsea072498 @helvonasche @rizlowwritessortof @wheresthekillswitch @sandlee44 @icequeen1371 @tistai @pie-and-pudding @thelittleredwhocould @supernaturallymarvellous @ellen-reincarnated1967 @notnaturalanahi @salt-n-burn-em-all @fumar-et-flores @chalicia @smalltowndivaj @littlefreakingfangirl @straightestgay-voice @percywinchester27 @vanessa-monique-blog @lynn1712 @gallxntdean @antares1980 @hunterpuff @beffyblueeyes-blog @sammiesamness @cassieraider @emoryhemsworth @speakinvain @andkatiethings @latetothewinchesterparty @winchesterprincessbride @drakelover78 @calaofnoldor @idreamofplaid
#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester fanfiction#sam winchester fluff#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfiction#mrswhozeewhatsis writes#sam x reader#sam fluff
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"This was never right" from the prompt list? 💖
hey hi hello!!! thank you for sending this in!! this (like the last few) are based on a tumblr au: professor can-fuck-me, which does not have a fic of its own but probably could have a discombobulated one shot at this point because this lil ficlet puts the total word count over 8k oops
anyway bit nsfw but not much; sort of implies again that they got together a bit before they should have (they slept together a few weeks before the class was over, while obi-wan was still his professor) so be careful if that's a squick for you!
(1.5k)
“I think you’ve got a good thesis,” Obi-Wan leans back in his chair, tucking the red pen in his hand behind his ear. He’s taken off his glasses at some point in the last thirty minutes, which becomes very inconvenient when he goes to push them up his nose and almost hits his eyes.
God, he’s too tired for this. He and Anakin had stayed up much too late into the night yesterday, at first fighting and then fucking the fight out of each other only to go to bed still upset. He’d forgotten until his alarm had gone off at eight in the morning and Anakin had hit him with his pillow to get him to turn it down that he’d scheduled back to classes office hours every Friday morning for the first month of school.
So now here he is, nursing a bit of a hangover, his third cup of coffee, and trying to remember if the shirt he fished out of his closet would hide the hickies he knows Anakin had left on his neck.
The student in front of him is frowning down at her paper. It’d been a miracle to see someone had already started the assignment he’d given the end of the second week of classes, as it’s due right before fall break, but upon reading her work, he sort of understands. He’s trying to find a polite way to say Complete doesn’t mean viable, but before he can, there’s a knock on his office door.
“Sorry,” Anakin Fucking Skywalker says cracking the door open a bit, “only it’s been thirty minutes, and I sort of need to talk to Professor Kenobi? Oh, is that your paper? Which short stories have you chosen to write on? I’m stuck between two.”
Obi-Wan gapes at him as the girl flushes bright red and fumbles through an answer, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
“Oh, that’s a wicked dichotomy between themes there,” Anakin tells her. Obi-Wan isn’t even sure he knows what those words mean, but the girl turns even more red and jumps up with a flustered apology for taking so much of the professor’s time, and a loose-ended question as to whether or not she’ll see Anakin in class later, perhaps they could talk more about the essay prompt?
Because, of course, Anakin looks like a college student. Because, of course, in June he had been one. He’d been in Obi-Wan’s sodding class, and he’s been hanging around his house all summer—considering that he sort of lives there now—so of course he’d heard the different drafts of that prompt enough to fake his way through a brief conversation. Obi-Wan doesn’t think he’s ever read a short story in his life.
“Yeah, you bet,” Anakin tells her with a smirk, holding the door open so that she has to duck under his arm to leave. “I’ll see you around.”
Obi-Wan is livid. Obi-Wan is so livid he doesn’t know if he should try standing because if he’s any closer to Anakin Skywalker right now, he’s going to try and strangle him. “That was completely inappropriate,” he snaps. “What are you even doing here?”
“Proving to you that I listen when you talk,” Anakin lilts, locking the door and coming to stand in front of the desk. “Professor.”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan warns. “You shouldn’t be here. You’ve no reason to be on campus anymore, let alone visiting me during my office hours, let alone interrupting a meeting with one of my students so you can take up my time and—”
“I remember meetings with you when I was one of your students,” Anakin murmurs, sitting on the edge of his desk and propping himself up with a hand over the middle of his papers. He leans forward and takes the red pen out from behind Obi-Wan’s ear. “You’ll forgive me from wondering what you were doing behind another closed door.”
Obi-Wan stands, and his hands are shaking with anger directed solely at his partner, who in the last few weeks has simply become unbearable. Picking fights. Prodding. Needling. Going for blood.
“Leave,” Obi-Wan tells him hoarsely. “This isn’t right.” He means that it’s not right for Anakin to be here now, for him to drag any and all personal issues into his workplace, into his office. It’s not right for Anakin to make him lose his mind like this, it’s not right that his hands have already migrated to his hips, it’s not right how much he loves this impossible man as much as he hates him in this moment.
“Professor,” Anakin murmurs, looping his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck, “this was never right.”
Obi-Wan kisses him half to shut him up and half because he can’t not kiss him when he’s wandered into his office practically begging for a kiss. There’s a lot he thinks he’s probably fucking up in this relationship, but he knows how to kiss Anakin.
Anakin, despite everything else, knows how to kiss him as well.
His boyfriend moans and arches into him, adjusts the angle so that he’s standing in between his spread thighs, sucking on his tongue and making noises that are far too loud for the current venue. It’s like—it’s like he wants to be caught. It’s lke he wants everyone to know.
Obi-Wan separates himself with difficulty from his boyfriend’s lips, pulling back to study his face.
Anakin’s eyes flutter open just as reluctantly, mouth slightly parted and spit slick.
“You remember the sort of things you told me here?” Obi-Wan mutters lowly to try and keep all arousal from his voice. “Back before I was even close to breaking. Few months in. Anything that was troubling you, anything you were trying to work through.”
“You’re a good listener, Professor,” Anakin replies, licking his lips. One hand falls to rest on his shoulder, the other to resst on the small of his back, fingers skirting the line of his ass. Obi-Wan barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. His partner loves any and every chance to feel him up.
“I’m listening now, Anakin,” he tells him, catching his chin in a bid to force eye contact. “Has something been troubling you?”
Anakin blinks at him and then his face breaks open and his mouth scrunches up and his eyes squeeze closed and when he opens them again, they’re spilling over with wetness. With tears. “I didn’t get the job,” he cries even as Obi-Wan guides him forward so he can press his head against his neck. “I was so close, I was in the—the final stages—but they went with someone else, and I really thought I would, I really thought this was the one, but they didn’t want me—”
Obi-Wan hushes him gently, soothing his hand down the planes of Anakin’s back. “It happens, darling,” he murmurs into Anakin’s curls. “Is this why you’ve been so horrible, love?”
It’s a testament to how upset Anakin is that he doesn’t immediately say anything to protest that, just shrugs weakly and tries to nuzzle closer. “It’s—it’s September, and you said that I should move in for the summer but it’s September now, and I didn’t get the job because they didn’t want me and I can’t think about you not wanting me without my chest getting all tight so I keep—I just need you to say it, alright, I need to hear it.”
“I love you,” Obi-Wan replies, nonplussed. He tells Anakin he loves him all the time, almost every time he thinks it, which is truly a staggering amount of times.
“No,” Anakin says, which isn’t usually what he says in response to that declaration. “No, I mean—if you want me to leave. I need you to—you can’t just…just wait for me to get the message, alright, I…I cling.”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan pulls back. This is a feat, considering how tightly Anakin’s arms are latched around him. “Anakin, darling, I don’t want you to leave. Ever. I love you. I love having you with me. Every place I am, I want you to be there as well.”
Anakin sniffles and wipes his wet face all over the shoulder of Obi-Wan’s shirt. He really loves a horrible person, he thinks with something like awe and infinite patience coursing through him. “That’s not true,” he mutters.
“It is,” Obi-Wan disagrees immediately. “It—”
“You just said I shouldn’t be in your office during your office hours,” Anakin points out, sitting back and wiping a hand over his eyes to get rid of the last of his tears. “So which is it?”
Obi-Wwan stares at his impossible boy. But, well, Anakin had come all the way out here to see him, and he’d been so vulnerable and achingly sweet. Perhaps he should be rewarded with equal honesty. “Darling, if you don’t think I’d rather kiss you until our lips are raw here on this desk like this than read shitty, cobbled-together essays from some student obviously aiming for a recommendation letter, then I don’t know what to tell you.”
Anakin tilts his head forward so that his next words are breathed against Obi-Wan’s lips. “Prove it, then.” he murmurs. “Professor."
#asks#prompt fill#professor can fuck me au#you know if this was an ao3 they'd have gotten waay more hot and heavy before they started talking#but most of this blog is more sfw than not lol#love me a switch professor au tho tbh#not extremely relevant here but also an element of this au thats always on my mind <3#obikin
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Fic Writing Questions Tag
Thank you so much to @if-not-now-tell-me-when for tagging me 🤘
1. How many fics do you have on AO3?
If we're excluding notfic/character analysis: 7 (otherwise 13)
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
49,925 (52,689 if we're including notfic/character analysis)
3. What fandoms do you write for?
-Metal Lords (primarily)
-Stranger Things
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
(1) Infinitesimally small and unforgivably burdensome (Metal Lords) T
(2) Does it get better? (Metal Lords/Stranger Things) M
(3) Metal Things (Metal Lords/Stranger Things) M
(4) Freak Doesn't Cut It (Stranger Things) M
(5) Left Behind (Metal Lords) T
5. Do you respond to comments?
I try to!
I'm just really fucking bad at responding to compliments/kind words. I just freeze up & don't know what to say a lot of the time so it can take a lot of energy to write out a very mid response to a lovely comment 😔 but I do try.
6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Err...that's between Left Behind and Candy Apples & Razor Blades. The former is a ficlet/minific and it's just sorta sad. The latter has an angstier ending depending on how you interpret it, it's a little ambiguous in my mind but I don't think everybody even reads it as ambiguous so idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
(unless we're counting the unpublished alternate ending I have written for Freak Doesn't Cut It because THEN IT'S THAT- but I'd only maybe publish that after the actual ending & I'm really fucking stuck with that fic so that's ages away if it ever gets posted)
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Probably Infinitesimally small and unforgivably burdensome. It's just pretty light overall.
Altho I want to at least mention that I think Does it get better? ultimately ending on hope and healing is also a very happy ending in my book 🖤
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Haven't so far, but maybe someday lol (hopefully not soon tho)
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
No, not really. Vaguely heated make-out is as far as I tend to go.
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
I do, I've only really written Metal Lords/Stranger Things so I guess the "craziest" one would be Metal Things purely because of the crossover pairing nobody asked for (Hunter Sylvester x Steve Harrington.) But none of it's very crazy.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I'm aware of and I kinda doubt anyone would want to lol
(If someone ever did it's on sight tho 🔪)
12. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?
No, and I honestly don't think that would work for me.
13. What’s your all time favourite ship?
I'm not 100% sure, it's either Steddie or Spuffy.
(I don't think I would ever write about the latter tho)
14. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
I'm far too stubborn to accept defeat like that. I have a lot of WIPs that feel like behemoths to me but I'm going to finish them.
15. What are your writing strengths?
UHM...I'm really not good at being positive about myself but I guesss I think in my opinion I'm decent at capturing the character's voices????????? maybe
16. What are your writing weaknesses?
I think I sometimes over-assume that people will understand my intention behind a scene.
Also if there's too many characters I can't keep track of them anymore.
And the fact that I dropped out of school at 14/15 occasionally becomes an issue. Having learned English almost entirely on feeling/by osmosis and thus not always knowing the actual rules. Of...yaknow...grammar.
17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
I'd shy away from it if I didn't speak the language fluently and I can't think of a reason I would ever want to involve my native language in a fic. Besides that I only speak English so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
18. First fandom you wrote for?
Publicly it's Metal Lords/Stranger Things.
Privately it's actually the infamous [REDACTED]
19. Favourite fic you’ve written?
It HAS to be Does it get better?
DIGB was my baby for the better part of this past year and it contains a lot of my favorite headcanons about the featured characters.
Some examples:
- FtM Hunter Sylvester
- Eddie Munson gives the BEST hugs
- Hunter is a walking ball of anxiety (altho that is practically canon)
As well as a lot of moments/scenes that I hold very very dear.
Some examples:
- Kev & Hunter laying on Hunter's bed and just talking in ch5
- Eddie helping Drunk!Hunter take his jewelry & shoes off and just talking to him in ch8 (altho I could just list ch8 as a whole tbh)
- The entirety of ch3 basically lmao
There's stuff I can and do criticize about DIGB in retrospect but ultimately it's still very precious to me.
No pressure tag: @itsfreakingbats, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll, @ghostcaterwaul, @allmoshnobrain, @nemobeatrice + anyone who wants to. Just do it. Be free.
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🎲 + I'm not giving you a number. just click the button like you're hitting skip on an ipod shuffle until you see a character that you REALLY wanna make content for. And maybe make a moodboard or a ficlet for them?
WELL YOU SEE MY FRIEND, our amiable spinning wheel of fate declared I should make something for little Cedar Booth, the AU daughter of our most beloved blorbo; however, since she's fairly new compared to the other kids, I didn't really want to pick, so you get a moodboard AND a tiny experimental thing as well. Enjoy...?
Send me 🎲 + a number and I will put ALL my OCs into a randomizer and choose the first OC after the number of randomizations to make something for.
The Rulebook of Being Cedar Booth, Age Almost Six, Storybrooke, Maine
Cedar is her father's favorite child.
Wrong already. Scratch that and start from the top. Paint over it, the way she is so good at doing when she makes a mistake midway through a drawing.
Ahem.
Cedar is her father's only child. That doesn't mean he loves her any less, but saying she's the favorite would be misleading, a lie. There is no one else he could choose.
Cedar's father never planned to have her in the first place. That doesn't mean he loves her any less, either.
Cedar has a father, a grandfather, and several aunts and uncles, because Daddy and Grandpa have lots of friends that care for her even though they're not really family. She doesn't have a mother, but that's okay. She doesn't need one. She's fine the way she is.
Cedar's best friends are Maddie, Raven and Cerise. Raven does have a mum, and Cerise has two, which should balance things out, except Maddie doesn't have one either, just like Cedar. Cedar feels guilty for being a bit happy about this, because Maddie's mum is dead, but sometimes she can't help thinking it all the same. She doesn't like being the odd one out, ever.
Cedar is the odd one out now. That's okay, too. Most of the townspeople are odd, or magic. Cerise and her sister Ramona are werewolves, as is their mama. Daddy was like her once, when he was small. It doesn't matter that she's turning into wood.
Lie.
6. It does matter that she's turning into wood, but Grandpa says that the right people won't care at all, and that means him and Daddy and Jiminy, and her friends and Auntie Emma, so Cedar guesses she's doing well enough. They will figure it out together. Daddy promised they would figure it out together, and Daddy doesn't lie anymore, especially not to her.
7. Cedar's not hurting anywhere.
Lie.
7a. Fine, Cedar's hurting a bit. In the legs. They're stiff and sore when she goes to bed sometimes, even if Daddy sweeps her off her feet and carries her off to her room when it happens, makes a game out of it for her. Cedar loves her father very much for that, and she's being a good girl for his sake, she really is.
8. No, she did not throw mud at Apple Nolan when Apple said something about Cedar's legs. That was Sparrow, Raven's brother. Sparrow likes throwing things and making noise, and he doesn't boss Cedar around ever, only picks on her like he does to his sister.
9. What Apple said doesn't make her a bad person. She's Snow White's daughter, and more importantly, Auntie Emma's sister. She can't be a bad person. She just doesn't notice she's hurting other people sometimes, Maddie said.
10. It's Cedar's own fault that this is happening to her.
Lie.
10a. It's Daddy's fault that this is happening to her, because of what he used to be.
LIE.
10b. It's Grandpa's fault that this is happening to her, for making his son like that in the first place.
lielielielielielie
?. She's lost count. She can't say whose fault it actually is. It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be safe. She doesn't want her family to be unsafe because of what she says, even if it's the truth. She shouldn't tell the truth if it hurts someone else, like Apple's words did. She should lie.
Could she lie?
She can still lie, right?
Lie.
#lizardthelizard#ask meme#au: ever after storybrooke#ouat#eah#ever after high#once upon a time#cedar wood#august booth#really does this count as fanfic???????#idk what I was doing tbh#*waves hands vaguely in the air* Stuff✨✨✨
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Wanted some Shu and Mado conversation to explore possible angles on their dynamic as host and headmate and it turned into a ficlet so that's fun lol
Here, have some stressy depressy Shu and his loving functional, Mado
It’s a thought that’s kept Shu sane many times – a rather laughable consideration, in truth, but the truth nonetheless.
---
Even when he says nothing, she always understands; no matter what happens in this life, he’ll never be alone, with her by his side.
You don’t have to be alone anymore, she says to him. It’s alright to want to not be alone.
She’s right, but she always is. Sometimes he gets angry with himself for hiding behind her, for making her say the things he’s not ready to yet, to others and himself alike…
But she is never angry with him for his failings, no matter how much he hates himself.
Today is just another one of those days, the kind where he wishes he could just turn his brain off and function like he’s supposed to. How much easier it would be to have someone pull his strings; if only there were someone who could.
Isn’t that why you have me?
“Mademoiselle,” he mutters disdainfully, “If anyone is pulling anyone else’s strings, it is not you pulling mine.”
Equally disdainful, she hums but doesn’t correct him. He knows the truth, and fears it, yes. That it truly isn’t him in control, that she, his very own creation in the truest sense, could one day come to rule over him…
And yet, in a way, it would be a relief.
Shu, you’ve spent too long trying to rule over everyone and everything in your grasp. Sooner or later, you’ll have to let things go, or they’ll slip through your fingers regardless. Even the important ones.
He knows.
He does know, as much as he hates it, and although he’s not yet ready to admit as much aloud, even to her.
And yet…she is right. He can’t hide the glimmer of thought from her, either, any more than he can hide from her smug little hum to herself, knowing that he’ll give in sooner or later.
Yes, it’s true that he burdens himself with many things – but that’s only because he can’t trust anyone else to take them on! It’s not as if he wouldn’t entrust them to others if he could, he’s not some kind of control freak or anything-
Then which things will you let go, first?
His laundry list of things to do flashes through his mind, a seemingly endless scroll. The day’s half-over and there’s already so much that has to be done, but the tasks for tomorrow and the next day, and the one after…the coming weeks, the months after…it stacks, one after another, into a mountain that feels insurmountable. No matter how capable he is, how utterly brilliant, even he is only a man. He can’t simply lift mountains as if they’re nothing! If he had started this morning as he’d intended to, things may look different, but as it is, he has to account for four lost hours, not counting the hours lost yesterday, and – how? How will he manage?
The list of tasks shifts, abruptly yielding to mental math as he tallies the amount of time each remaining task will take, and how much time he has in the first place. He’s always worked on tight deadlines, since Valkyrie has always had just enough money to get by if they kept doing as much for themselves as possible. If he could contract out like fine it might be another story, but…
No, he’ll make it work. He has to. Kagehira is counting on him, so he’ll do what he always does and-
And. And what?
And choke, like he did before? Fall to pieces? Lose himself entirely?
Abandon the one who stood by him?
For a long time, weeks, he hadn’t even been able to bear to look at Mademoiselle. He couldn’t stand to hold her, to hear her – if he did, he would have to hear her kindness, and he couldn’t stand it. The scolding he could bear, but to actually hear her assure him of all the things he wanted so desperately to hear was too much.
And yet, in time he’d turned to her once again, because…
Because I’ll never leave you. Because you don’t have to face it alone, even when you don’t know how to turn to them, yet. She giggles, adding, Even when you don’t know how to turn to me. I’m still here, even when you can’t let yourself hear me.
She’s too precious to risk damaging with reckless handling, but Shu closes his eyes and hugs the pillow tighter to his chest, wishing that it was her he was hugging. Sometimes he wishes…
That I could stand beside you in a body of my own, a human just like you and sweet little Mika. I know…but I can only be what I am. A piece of you. For the rest, you’ll have to turn to them.
“To him,” Shu huffs, correcting her. He knows what it is she meant. “You hardly need to spare my delicacy when we’re alone, you know.”
“Hm? If you already know, what stops you?”
“You already know that.” He glowers at her, perched perfectly on her little couch on the shelf; expressionless as her form may be, he can feel the amusement radiate from her.
“Remind me?”
He sighs. “Later. For now, I have to finish adding that braided trim. If I don’t update our costumes, people may think we’re resting on our laurels once more, and we can’t have that. Valkyrie does have an image to maintain, after all…”
For now, she lets the matter go. There will be plenty of time another day for such matters; it’s enough to hear the truth acknowledged, even obliquely.
At last, Shu pulls off the blanket and stands, brushing himself off. True, his Saturday may be half-over, but that doesn’t mean it’s been wasted. He still has half the day, and he can make up for lost time – although not by cutting corners. Never that, he wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing. The very idea of taking shortcuts with his art is abhorrent!
“Let’s sit by the window today, I’d like to enjoy the breeze.”
He smiles. He knows what she’s doing; his mood is always improved by fresh air and sunshine, although he’ll have to mind where he sets her at this hour. Just like his Mademoiselle to always be looking out for him, gently prompting him in the right direction…
“I only suggest,” she demurs. “I would never dream of leading.”
“Of course.”
Whatever the future holds for him for – them – this afternoon holds only hours of hand-stitching and idle conversation – and the days and weeks and months to come feel far more bearable, it turns out, when he has the chance to spend uninterrupted quiet time with needle and thimble and his most beloved companion.
“Lifting a mountain is foolish. Better to go over, like Hannibal himself.”
“I hope you’re not suggesting you might want elephants at Valkyrie’s future performances…”
“Nonsense! As if I would ever-”
Her giggles tell him, too late, that it was a joke…but the gentle amusement is nice, even if his weak, awkward defensiveness isn’t diminished in any way. “I- they’re filthy- and the stage, they would-”
She sighs silently, a gentle and bemused sound. I’m glad that you can relax with me, at least, Shu.
“Well, who else?” He huffs and scowls – and pricks himself with the needle, which means he has to go and get the bandages, because he would never dream of doing anything as uncouth as Kagehira and simply putting a wounded digit in his mouth. Even with the interruptions, though, and the teasing, he has to admit at last…
“It is nice.”
That’s as much of a concession of affection as even Mademoiselle will get from him.
For now, at least. There’s no telling what the future holds, on countless other afternoons to come with fresh breezes and quiet hand-sewing to soothe the spirit.
#shu itsuki#mademoiselle#osdd#giving myself the representation i deserve#getting called out by headmates and having to listen to them lovingly roast you is the real osdd experience#enstars#my fic
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Ficlet: In Stitches - Outtake
In Stitches - here - please note genre and warnings on this one.
Summary: Virgil is a sentimental creature...
Characters: Virgil Tracy, Gordon Tracy
Word Count: 906
Genre: Family, light humor, Fluff
A/N: Thank you for supporting “In Stitches,” and in the meantime, I had a little side scene brewing that I didn’t write for the original piece because it had a different tone, but shared the theme. So here is a fluffy outtake.
I’ve also gone ahead and posted it on AO3 in my ficlet collection, so if you are so inclined, the link is here:
Read on Ao3
****
In Stitches - outtake
When does sound become music, his book asks. When does noise, or even the absence of noise, transcend into meaning? Feeling? The question reminds him of a lecture from his Philosophy of Music course back in college; it is whoever is listening that determines where the lines are drawn and how boldly, based on brain chemistry and personal and cultural experience for the individual.
Like the chorus of Kansas bush crickets, and Virgil could hear the rhythmic “katy-did, she did” in their buzzing, while John used to just complain about how loud they were on his treks to find a good spot for his telescope beyond the lights of the farmhouse. For Virgil, they held the song of the heat of summer, of short August nights, and the transition to fall.
“Hey, Virg!”
The years where the locusts swarmed were different, their drone shrill and unrelenting and louder still. Yet, Virgil had on numerous occasions lost himself in their whine, rhythmic as if leading up to something…
“Viiiiiirgil. What are you reading?”
Now, his younger brother’s voice this early in the morning… that was noise, no matter how sing-song. It was all a front to hide the chaos he was sure to wreak. Do not engage.
He knew in his heart sounds didn’t need to be beautiful to be music, and it seemed the author did too, the next few paragraphs continuing by describing dissonance and its translation to the human ear, and the human brain’s response to –
“Virgil!”
The couch shifts with the force of his younger brother plopping down beside him, and he nearly drops the hardcover as he bounces slightly, the words blurring.
“What do you want, Gordon?” Virgil growls, placing the book open on his lap. He uses the opportunity to take a sip from his coffee mug sitting on the side table. More liquid energy would be required. The aquanaut was hard to deal with at a normal hour, let alone when Virgil has just gotten up relaxing with a book and a beverage. Meanwhile,Gordon already has the smell of chlorine clinging to him.
At least he hasn’t brought the actual pool with him. The couch remains dry.
“G’morning,” the blond grins. “Just saying hello.”
“Are you kidding me?” He looks up from where his hand is splayed on the page to keep his place in the text. In that moment, Gordon reclines back and shifts in such a way that it jostles Virgil’s grip. He has to bring his other hand up to settle the swirling cup to make sure it doesn’t spill. While the words are safe, he has no idea anymore where he left off.
Virgil groans, quickly scanning the first words of the paragraphs in vain. “Hasn’t John taught you not to interrupt someone reading?"
“Uh, yeah. Of course,” Gordon acknowledges. “But you’re Virgil.” And he says it in a way that means obviously he doesn’t consider bothering him a big deal.
This annoys him more. Because it’s true. Virgil has always made time for Gordon.
“Ugh! Fine.” He reaches to the back of the book where he keeps his bookmark and brings it to the open pages, closing it quickly with a snap. “What’s your morning report?”
It looks like Gordon is going to answer, except he reaches over instead for the closed book. “Wait, wait! Open that back up.”
Curiously, Virgil does so. “Wha –oh.”
Gordon’s hands are on his bookmark before he can stop him. “Oh, my god! I can’t believe you kept this,” he says, taking it from the pages to run his hand over the stiffened stitches.
“Of course, I kept it.” It may have been just a test of Gordon’s gauge, the delicate stitches not quite reaching the intended square shape, but it was still the first thing Gordon had crafted for him. Gordon had researched the crochet style on his own, bought the thread independently, and made the filet hearts with his own hand. It was a small thing, but it had always felt heavy in Virgil’s hand. Green, his favorite color.
His cheeks flush as he reaches back for it, but Gordon twists away from him.
“Did you do the rest of these?” Gordon asks. Virgil nods slowly. It had taken him ages to figure out the thread and match his stitching to that of his brother’s. But he’d gotten there. The green piece made by Gordon is bordered by a similar swatch of grey above it and red below it, followed by yellow then orange. Hearts stacked one on top of the other and bound together by stitching in the blue of their uniforms. “And did you make any more of these?”
“No, just the one,” he coughs. Surprisingly Gordon seems pleased by his additions, and not upset at the alteration as he feared.
“Do you still have the thread?”
“Mhmm, in my studio. Do you want it?”
Gordon beams at him. “Want it? Let’s go make one for me!” He starts to spring up from the couch and, by Gordon’s expression, Virgil has just the right amount of notice to quickly place the mug back on the table and close the book before they both end up on the floor. The blond reaches for his hands and tugs at him to follow.
“Okay, okay!” And as he follows he can’t help himself. “Wait, what are you even going to do with a bookmark, Gordon?”
#Gavii Scribit#ficlets and bits#Gordon Tracy#Virgil Tracy#tracys doing crafts and being bros#thunderbirds fanfiction
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Ficlet: The One
Title: The One
Word count: 479
Rating: Gen
Characters: Roman Reigns & Paul Heyman
Prompt: "It was you the whole time."
Anyone but you, Roman. Anyone but you. The voice is different now and those words are almost ten years old, but the proclamation still drifts up in his memory from time to time, like sparks from a fire that was never fully extinguished. Roman's defeated so many people since then—Bray himself, Lesnar, Cena, even members of his own family—but somehow it never seems like it's enough. Now he's facing down yet another contender, another chess piece to knock off the board, and he wonders if he's had enough. What is there left to do? What accomplishments are left for him to chase? For over nine hundred days he's been champion, and he's not sure he knows how to be anything else anymore.
"Wiseman." He doesn't look up. He doesn't need to. Paul will scurry over like he always does, even if there's not a camera present. Like a magic mirror in a fairy tale, Paul always knows what to say, what image to project.
"Yes, my Tribal Chief?"
Roman tries not to flinch at the name and hides his reaction behind a sneer as he rises to his feet. "Who carries this company?" He knows the truth, he lives it every day, but he needs the words to come from outside his head.
Heyman smiles. There's only one proper answer to give. "Why, you, of course, my Tribal Chief. You have been the reigning, defending champion for over nine hundred days. You've defeated the best the company has to offer, from Brock Lesnar to Drew McIntyre. You've outlasted Vince McMahon and you'll outlast Triple H and you'll outlast whoever comes next."
Roman nods slowly, coiling his hair up into a bun. Heyman's reassurances may be self-serving, but they're still soothing all the same. There are precious few people who understand the business of professional wrestling better than Paul Heyman, after all, and his blessing has been sought by hundreds but only ever granted to a precious few. "And who's the face of this company?" He glances at his reflection, gaze lingering on the grey in his beard, the wrinkles framing his eyes. He doesn't feel old, but the weight of experience has changed the frame of his shoulders, the set of his jaw. His very essence has been altered like a well-tailored suit, made to be worn to the finest occasions.
Paul hands him his titles one at a time. "You are, my Tribal Chief. It was you the whole time. Some people were just too foolish to see it." His voice is as slick as oil, but even it struggles to rise above the swampy murk of memories.
It was you the whole time. The words won't linger, not the way Bray's have, but Roman lets them echo in his mind as his gaze focusses on the door, looking ahead, looking forward—looking anywhere but within.
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Another little ficlet thing. Ed/Izzy, though neither of them actually acknowledges it and instead dance around it while looking after each other, because that's what they've always done.
For sake of the scene, Ed's bed in this is similar to Stede's: built in to his quarters, but because he rarely uses it we've never seen it. Canon compliant, most likely not, but the bed was needed for this lol.
---
"You have a bed," Izzy said softly as he helped Ed out of his chair. "Should try using it for once."
Ed grumbled something nonsensical, still half asleep. He leaned to rest his head on Izzy's shoulder, not one iota of help as Izzy dragged him to his bed.
"What were you staying up for this time?" Izzy asked as he let Ed flop onto the bed.
No answer, unless you counted Ed turning and nuzzling his face into a pillow an answer.
"I've got watch, but if you need me I'm out on deck," Izzy said, and resigned himself to an extra grumpy Ed in the morning. He'd somehow be upset that Izzy had moved him somewhere more comfortable, while also not remembering why he'd stayed up to begin with, yet frustrated Izzy had taken him away from it.
"Ivan should have watch," Ed yawned as he turned onto his back. "I saw the chart."
"Yes, well, Ivan is preoccupied-"
"With what?" Ed was waking up now, enough to sit up and argue. "Tell him he can work on whatever it is after."
Izzy sighed. As if he hadn't already tried that, and been told to fuck off. They'd all sailed together long enough that certain threats no longer held water, and that included his barking at them to do their assigned night watch shifts.
"It's alright," Izzy said. "I don't mind."
"Fuck that, you took last night's watch too! I'm fixing this."
Ed was up and out on deck before Izzy could beg him not to go. It wouldn't make Ivan or Fang anymore willing to listen to him if Ed had to come in and tell them to do it. In fact, that usually made it worse. Not to mention, it felt like a kick while he was down, even if it came from a good place. Not only was he failing at his job, but in a big enough way that Ed had to take over for him. Pathetic.
"There we go," Ed chirped happily as he walked back in. "I reminded them we have the chore and watch assignment charts for a reason, and if they won't follow them then I'll choose when they take watch, and that might be every single night for two weeks. Changed their tune right up, and Ivan is out on deck!"
"Thank you," Izzy said, absolutely burning with embarrassment. "I'll take my leave then. Will still be near if you need me."
Ed shook his head, and started to strip down to his shirt and trousers. Weapons set aside, boots kicked off, and a grunt as he dropped himself onto his bed. "Come on."
"Ed-"
"Just like we used to do! Except with the luxury of a bed, instead of scrunched up beside each other on the bottom of that dinghy. Remember how fucking cold it got?"
"I do," Izzy replied. Though whenever Ed had snuggled up to him in that shoddy stolen boat, the cold had rapidly ceased. A cuddling Ed was like wearing a heavy blanket, but that wasn't the only reason it had left him hot.
"Might not be cold now, but we both slept pretty well back then, all things considered," Ed continued. "For old times' sake? For me? Or at least because I know you need to sleep."
Truthfully, he didn't need any convincing. He was exhausted and Ed was warm and welcoming, patting the bit of space left beside him.
He stripped off his vest, boots, and weapons, and gently lay beside Ed.
Immediately, Ed snuggled close, his front to Izzy's back. An arm dropped over Izzy's waist and hugged him, while Ed sighed contently.
Hesitantly, he let himself hold onto Ed's arm with a hand as he got comfortable. A task in itself, with Ed doing the same and more or less grinding against his ass.
"If Ivan comes in and tries to get you to take over, don't do it," Ed murmured. "I don't think he will, but if he does, ignore him. You need a break, some decent sleep."
He wordlessly mumbled his assent, and ignored his heart pounding away in his chest. Along with the urge to turn and snuggle into Ed's chest, to let Ed's hands wander where they liked...
After the initial struggle to push those thoughts away, he did finally sleep. Warm and comfortable, eventually turned to face Ed, with Ed holding him close by the hip.
#text post#ofmd fic#blackhands#me: im not feeling needy and cuddly and clingy#also me: writes this#im blaming the ongoing vestibular migraine making me dizzy and keeping me on the couch today lol#that and izzy needs snuggles#i am a pirate doctor and i have formally diagnosed it and the treatment needs to start immediately with this ficlet
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Ficlet Advent Calendar 2022 - December 1
I know I’m starting this with a delay, but last Sunday we presented our sketch show, so I was preparing for it during the entire weekend, and now I’m catching up with myself. At least the show went very well. :)
Title: The letter
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Characters: Mary Crawley, Cora Crawley
Word Count: 827
Rating: Teen and up audiences
Summary: After her divorce, Lady Mary Crawley isn't looking forward Christmas this year, but then she receives mysterious letter on the 1st of December.
Notes: Sets after Downton Abbey: A New Era, based on that headcanon of mine that after getting fed up with Henry’s absence, Mary decides to end their marriage as it does not seem to work anymore.
Also, I decided to post the chapters separately, because it’s easier to tag them that way, so apologies for the spam.
December 1 - The letter
Looking at the calendar, Lady Mary Crawley let out a sigh. Contrary to the previous years, she wasn’t looking forward to Christmas at all. She didn’t feel the slightest excitement to think about the enormous tree in the hall or her children’s face when they would see it or when they would rip the paper off their presents. The only thing she felt was a slight annoyance and exhaust.
Having the whole family around, including Edith, parading around the house, showing off her perfect marriage, the Bransons, Aunt Rosamund, then Isobel, and all would be very-very sorry for her and would lament Henry’s absence. (Not that he was home during Christmas in the last few years.) On the top of that, Papa invited the Marquis of Montmirail as well, his almost-brother, which meant more people to pity her. And that was the last thing Mary needed right now.
No-one said divorce would be a piece of cake, she knew that, but she wasn’t expecting it to be this this hard. Even though it was much easier to obtain it, society still wasn’t prepared for people deciding to end a marriage that wasn’t working anymore. Especially women. Ever since she had stopped being Lady Mary Talbot, the invitations to dinner parties, balls or other social events became more and more rare, and whenever she hosted something, only half of the invitees came, or not even half of them. Sometimes people invited Mama and Papa, but not her. It was humiliating.
Not only she wasn’t good enough for Herny to choose her over race cars, but she wasn’t good enough for the high society either. All because she had got fed up with her husband’s absence. Wasn’t marriage about being there for each other? It certainly wasn’t about him being away on some car race while Tom was getting married or Granny passing away. This was even worse than the times when Edith wrote that horrible letter to the Turkish Embassy. But this time it was only a divorce! Nobody died! Being rejected by both Henry and society was too much to bear.
When she entered the drawing room that morning, she found her mother holding a letter. Mary felt the urge to turn around and walk away. She didn’t want to know about another event she wasn’t invited to.
“Mary darling, this is for you,” Cora handed her the green envelope, and she raised a brow as she wasn’t expecting a letter from anyone. She couldn’t even recognise the handwriting on it.
“Thank you, Mama,” she said, sitting down on the armchair, then she opened the letter.
Dear Lady Mary,
I received the news about your marriage, and I have to admit, it surprised me. But I’m not here to gloat, or to pity you. I happen to know that divorce is not easy, especially not for a woman, but I also know how strong and brave you are, and if anyone can go through it with her head held high, it’s you.
What is this about? Mary wondered. Does this person think I need a lawyer? I already have one!
It takes a lot of courage to get out of a marriage – been there, done that -, and even the strongest need some encouragement, a few good words, a little bit of fun to ease the pain of the divorce and help you move on. And this is why I’m writing these letters to you. This is the first one of the twenty-four you will be receiving from me until Christmas. This will be my present to you. However, I will not tell you who I am until then, because I don’t want you to think I’m doing this because I have an agenda. I just want to cheer you up a little, just to make these times a little more bearable. I’m looking forward to writing all these letters to you; tomorrow you will receive the second one.
Until then I remain, yours sincerely,
Christmas Ghost
When Mary put down the letter, she didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t even sure if that anonymous Christmas Ghost was serious. Perhaps the whole thing was just a joke. Still, the idea of someone writing twenty-four letters to her just to cheer her up warmed her heart, making her wonder who that might be. Someone from the estate? Anna, maybe? But why would she do such thing, seeing her every day? Could it be Tom and Lucy? That would make sense, she thought to herself. But how would they know what a divorce could feel like?
“Who wrote to you?” Cora asked.
“I don’t know, it doesn’t say,” Mary replied. “I either have an anonymous friend or the whole thing is just a joke. Probably it’s the latter,” she added with a small shrug.
However, next morning she felt genuine excitement when she saw a green envelope on the tray when Greg the footman brought in the post.
(Read it on AO3)
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