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tripleaxeldiaz · 5 months

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I haven't had real free time to write in like 10 months, but now i almost do, and i forgot i was writing this in february and idk if i'll ever finish it so here's what i have of it so far secondary title is "eddie pines harder than a douglas fir"

It happens quickly. That’s what scares Eddie the most.

One minute he’s in his truck, Chris in the backseat, all their worldly possessions secured in the bed, whizzing past a “Welcome to California!” sign in search of something better than what they left in the rearview mirror.

He blinks, and he’s in the locker room of Station 118, fresh out of the academy, being greeted by smiling faces and one blonde haired, blue eyed sneer.

He blinks again, the sneer has softened into an easy grin, and he and Buck work together like they were built for it, like their lives were always going to bring them to a place where they would be running into smoldering, crumbling buildings side by side. Buck drives him and Chris home after the earthquake, and Eddie struggles to remember the last time anything felt this easy.

Blink

Shannon is back. Any ease he found evaporates, and the walls he built around his feelings for her come crumbling down in her wake.

Blink

He’s in the back of an ambulance feeling her pulse stop under his fingertips.

Blink

He’s off probation, surrounded by friends and family applauding his accomplishment. He’s grinning on the outside, but inside he’s still a mess of grief and guilt. He wants to be as proud of himself as his parents claim they are, wants to stop seeing Shannon on the gurney every time he closes his eyes, wants to be happy, wants peace, wants, wants, wants —

Buck’s laugh erupts from across the room, still loud and free flowing despite the month he’s had, and Eddie wants so hard it almost takes him out at the knees. It’s like time stops, the flurry of actions and emotions constantly trying to engulf him comes to a brief standstill, and as the sound of Buck’s joy washes over him, he feels like he can breathe for the first time in months. Everything seems clearer, Buck’s smile is making the room even brighter, and Eddie thinks he might—

No. It’s too soon. Way too soon.

Isn’t it?

It took him over a year to feel it with Shannon, even though he said he did much earlier. Danny Miller was his best friend for five years before he started feeling that swoop in his stomach that was decidedly beyond friendship. And he and Buck are just friends — best friends, he’d argue, but just friends all the same. Buck has a girlfriend, Eddie just became a widower, and there’s so much going on in his head that everything’s getting shuffled and confused and firing off in all the wrong directions.

Because there’s no way. There’s just no way.

And even if there is a way (which there isn’t), Eddie would rather go through basic training in the sticky heat at Fort Benning all over again than ruin his friendship with Buck. That is something they can build to last, that is what the two of them need the most from each other.

That is something that Eddie cannot screw up.

The other thing, which Eddie refuses to name because there’s just no way, has already shattered his and Chris’s world once. He won’t let those pieces break again.

So he does what he does best — he takes every unnerving, premature feeling he has, squashes it into a box in his head labeled Do No Open Ever for Any Reason and shoves it as far away as he possibly can. Just in time, too, because he blinks one last time and Buck is in front of him, backlit by sunshine like a goddamn angel, whole and safe and alive. His smile is even brighter up close, and Eddie feels himself pulled toward him like second nature, like he really is the sun and Eddie’s helpless to do anything but fall into his orbit until they’re both taken out in a supernova.

He worries that that box may not be sturdy enough to contain all that light and energy.

He lets himself sink a little further into the hug anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey Dad?”

Chris is squished against his side, the lights from the TV flashing across his face and reflecting in his glasses. Eddie had been a mess of emotions all day, but he’d just about cracked completely when Chris voluntarily left the pinball machine to join Eddie in an armchair and watch The Year Without a Santa Claus like they do every Christmas. It used to be easy — Chris cocooned in his lap, tucked safely under his chin — but this year feels like the first year Eddie’s really noticed how big Chris is, all lanky limbs and hardly any space to put them in an armchair meant for one, not a grown man and a constantly growing boy.

It’s a tight fit now, and Eddie can feel pins and needles start to creep up his arm, but he couldn’t care less. He’ll let every part of his body go numb if it means his kid will want to keep sitting with him.

He shifts a bit, looking down at Chris “Yeah bud?”

“Can we do Christmas here again next year?”

Eddie wraps his arm around Chris a little tighter. “I think we’ll probably be at home next year, but I’m sure we can pop by and visit.”

“Okay,” Chris says, content for barely a minute before he asks, “Will Buck be at home with us too?”

It’s shocking, really, that Chris doesn’t feel how hard Eddie’s heart lurches where his head is laid on his chest.

And of course, because the universe loves making his life harder, Buck looks up at them from across the loft at that exact moment, a crooked grin to match his crooked Santa hat, and waves before taking his turn at the pool table. Pair that with the wave of gratitude that hits him as Chris waves back, and he feels like he’s in his own damn Christmas movie, mistletoe and twinkle lights and everything.

He is grateful to Buck, though. So grateful he’s worried he’ll never be able to express it properly no matter how hard he tries. And not just for keeping Chris safe, or for wading through water and blood to find him, but for everything he did after too. Dinners brought over or made in their kitchen. Hours of board games and video games. Movie nights with buttery popcorn and every blanket they owned piled up on the couch. It was hard at first — there were days when Chris didn’t want to talk to either of them, where Buck’s smile wouldn’t quite reach his eyes, where all Eddie could hear when he looked at Buck was the crack in his voice when he swore that he tried.

Eddie knows he tried. He knows he ran himself into the ground trying to bring Chris back to him, and he knows he would do it again with no hesitation if he needed to.

It all makes Eddie—

—appreciate—

—Buck, more than he ever thought he could—

—appreciate—

—another person.

And it’s enough to make staticky fear prickle in his chest when he remembers that one day — potentially any day now — Buck will find someone who appreciates him in every way he deserves, and Eddie will get another harsh reminder from the universe that somethings are just not meant for him.

But it’s Christmas, and as both Chris and the Grinch like to remind him, there are no sad faces on Christmas. So for today, he can let himself watch Buck play pool and…appreciate. Appreciate Buck’s biceps that can hit cue balls dead on and wrap Chris in a hug on a particularly bad day, the lean lines of his back carry the weight of so much more than Eddie wants them to, the blush settled high on his cheekbones that looks good enough to—

“Dad. Are you listening to me?”

Eddie does not jump at Chris’ voice.

At least not very high.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Chris rolls his eyes so dramatically it makes Eddie want to laugh and cry all at the same time. “I said will Buck be at home with us on Christmas next year?”

The universe once again laughs in his face as Buck bounds towards them, cutting through the loft to greet Maddie and Chim at the top of the stairs. As he passes behind their chair, he squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, fingers brushing along the back of his neck before ruffling Chris’s hair. It’s small and easy, but it turns Eddie to jelly as he pictures a lifetime of warm touches and warmer smiles and a life full of—

Chris waves his hand in front of his face, still waiting for his answer.

Eddie has got to reel in his…appreciation-struck imagination.

“I hope he is, bud,” he says finally, resting his chin on top of Chris’s head and not staring longingly at Buck’s back. “I really hope he is.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It never gets easier, getting shot. It’s not a sensation your body can get used to that will eventually filter to the back of your mind. It’s a miracle that the human body can come out on the other side — if it comes out on the other side — and forget the excruciating, all-consuming pain that is lead ripping through flesh and muscle and bone at 1,700 miles per hour.

Eddie’s already lived through that pain once — he thought he left the chances of it happening again 7,000 miles and a lifetime away.

But here he is, on a sunny L.A. boulevard, his shoulder burning white hot in a way that is somehow familiar and brand new all at the same time.

He hits the ground, and it’s asphalt instead of sand. He looks ahead of him and sees Buck in his civvies instead of Mills in her fatigues.

Nothing makes sense.

Everything hurts.

(to be continued maybe idk)

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #ficcery #i actually don't hate it now that i'm reading it back so maybe it will get finished!!

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christinesficrecs · 1 year

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Sterek Ficlets

I’m still working on this one, but here is part one for now.

College AU, Fake Boyfriends - Aussiebee

Hug Delivery Man - supervillainny

The Morning After - stoney321

Be nice to your seat partner. They might just be your future spouse!’ - pale-silver-comb

Pick-Up Artist: The Subway Shop AU - halffizzbin

Daily reminder that you're one cool cat. - pale-silver-comb

“You can’t possibly be blaming me for this.” - halekingsourwolf

Oh, I will fake relationship the crap out of you - jerakeenc

FBI Agents - missisjoker

Derek gets taken by hunters. - ladykatie

Derek is a fireman and Stiles likes when he comes home in his gear - stileshale

Getting Caught in the Act - mad-madam-m

when peter/sheriff and stiles/derek having a double wedding. - thisdisontentedwinter

“This is the guy?” - munsonboy

I didn’t know - matildajones

Unrequited - happysterekthoughts

Don’t make it into a big deal - stileshale

Beach Trip - stileshale

Melvin Smarty AU - yodas-yo-yo

Thanksgiving AU - thepsychicclam

Charity Auction - stileshale

#sterek #tumblr ficlets #ficcery

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en-mode-autopilote · 2 months

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THE MILOUVIANS IN... — the ghost of its architecture

Milou is unsettled when her aunt comes in the café to tell her that the castle of their childhood is haunted. Curious of what is really happening over there, she brings the Milouvians with her to uncover some mysterious and dark secrets that the house is holding… Join the Milouvians for one night of ghosts, mystery and a little bit of fright…

(read it on ao3)

#the milouvians #alexandra.graphs #ficcery #the visuals are giving!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#anyways; thank you to everyone who will read this story <3

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burningthegallows · 1 year

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You’re a fanfic writer. You delete and purge all of your accounts and then you find out that someone dug them back out of the trash, dusted them off, and read them 100 more times…

Do you feel violated because it’s your work and you should be allowed to disappear it if you like?

Or do you feel pleased that someone loved your writing enough to track it down

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shanastoryteller · 7 months

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tony gets kidnapped on his way to a business meeting or something and he goes with it because they’re in a pretty crowded area and he doesn’t want some innocent bystanders getting hurt in the scuffle. the team will notice eventually and his overprotective boyfriend captain american is going to 1. notice very quickly and 2. freak the fuck out, so he’s not really risking much here

also these kidnappers are sort of stupid and he’s not really worried about escaping later. except even though they’re stupid they mention things about the avengers and shield that they really shouldn’t know so tony decides to stick around to see if he can figure out if they lucked into hacking past his security (not likely) or if there’s some sort of mole

except the leader and the underlings get in an argument right in front of him because apparently they were supposed to capture captain america, not iron man, and the guy who grabbed him is like no, no, this is better! we have his boyfriend so we can lure him here instead!

meanwhile tony is just stating in disbelief that these idiots manage to string two thoughts together. there has to be mole. or someone else really in charge. or something.

and the leader is like fine whatever. he takes tony’s phone and opens the contacts and snorts, “this is what you have him saved us? pathetic”

tony looks at the contact labeled <3 <3 love of my life light in the dark wind beneath my wings <3 <3 and is sort of glad he’s gagged so he can’t say anything

he still doesn’t really know what’s going on and jarvis is still trying to hack their system an there’s no harm in sticking around a little longer since these people are. you know. idiots

except approximately fifteen minues later rhodey is busting down the wall and taking out all these guys in thirty seconds flat and tony slips out of the ropes that he’d undone about five minutes after being put into them (thanks nat) and pulls down the gag and says, “i thought you were on radio silence on a mission in ghana”

“i thought you could be trusted on your own, so it looks like we’re both wrong,” rhodey says. “what were you playing at?”

“i would have told you not to come if i’d known you’d get the message,” he protests. “i was working an angle here, okay, jarvis are you into their systems yet?”

“yes,” his trusty ai says from his phone from one of the kidnapper’s pockets. “tracing the origin of their financial backer now.”

“you really didn’t have to stay kidnapped for jarvis to do that,” rhodey points out, brushing him off and checking him for injuries.

tony shrugs. “i didn’t want to risk one of them getting away and tipping them off. take care of them i could. do it before they got a signal out without the suit? maybe not.”

this very reasonable discussion is interrupted by the rest of the avengers coming in swinging and then left blinking except for steve who feels the need to fuss over him while tony whines and complains and pretends he doesn’t love it

he says they were after steve anyway, he was just bait and steve frowns and is like well, why didn’t they try and contact me then? we knew something was wrong because of the stark industries security footage

and natasha, the sneak, has picked tony’s phone from the kidnapper’s pocket. he lunges for it but she skips back from him and says, “well it looks like they tried. they just messaged the wrong person”

steve takes the phone and sees the contact name and that the kidnappers sent the message we have your boyfriend and if you don’t do exactly what we say you’ll never see him again and is like. this is what rhodey is saved as in your phone?? what am i??

“look, the things is, it’s not like i actually use anyone’s contact, or look at it, i just tell jarvis who to call, so you really shouldn’t take this personally,” tony says.

steve types in his own number and stares in disbelief. “captain? i’m saved in your phone as CAPTAIN?”

“okay well when you gave me your number we weren’t dating and also you were being very mean to me at the time, so,” he says, resisting the urge to hide behind rhodey because he doesn’t think that will help

steve turns his gaze to rhodey. “what is tony saved as in your phone?”

“i really don’t think that’s relevant,” he answers, looking back at the hole in the wall like he’s considering flying out of it.

“jarvis, what’s tony saved as in rhodey’s contacts?” steve asks.

tony says, “j, don’t-“

“sir is saved in colonel rhodes’s contacts as baby,” jarvis answers.

clint is laughing so hard he’s going to break a rib. natasha raises an eyebrow, which is about the same thing

steve’s face is pure betrayal

“it’s because he’s an infant,” rhodey says, “and very needy and he throws up on me a lot.”

“hey!” tony scowls. “i haven’t done that in years!”

“and when you were texted about your boyfriend being kidnapped, you just knew it was tony?” steve asks.

rhodey shrugs. “well, who else would it be?”

even steve doesn’t have an answer to that

“it’s purely platonic,” tony says reassuringly, “carol would scratch my eyes out.”

steve scowls and sulks until tony changes his contact name

except now he’s in tony’s phone as captain handsome. he tells himself it’s an upgrade

#this popped into my head and now you all have to suffer #avengers #fandom ficcery

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kalira · 1 year

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Changed Displays

Happy Birthday to @dahtwitchi; I hope you enjoy my latest foray onto your twigship~

T; 1.3k Tobirama/Iruka

So many things have changed around Iruka, but he wouldn't give up his new place and the very different world he lives in for anything.

#TobIruka #Tobirama x Iruka #Iruka #Tobirama #Naruto #time travel #fluff #Kalira writes #Kalira writes; Naruto #Kalira writes; TobIruka #Changed Displays #twitchi #Kalira writes birthday ficcery

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raz-writes-the-thing · 6 months

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Hello, it's me again!

I just want to thank you on behalf of all of us for your daily work! I don't know how you are able to post several times a day, but that's not the point, it's that every time I get a notification that you have posted a new story, I feel happier. The last few weeks have been shit to say the least and I've been feeling terribly lonely with the problems weighing on my shoulders, but your writing always takes me out for a little while and helps me to see life a little more positively, so thanks again for being here and sharing your works with us. You may not always feel perfect in what you put together, but believe me, I treasure each one.

That's all I wanted to say. I hope I've managed to put a smile on your face.

Have a great day/evening/night, sunshine!💛

Hola beautiful,

I'm- I saw this when you first sent it in but I had no idea how to respond. I mean,, there aren't words for how beuatiful a message this is? Or how much I appreciate it.

I also cannot explain how I'm posting at least once a day while working full time lmao. At some point I'm gonna burn out and slow down- but until then!!! Enjoy my ficcery haha.

I am so glad that my little blog has made an impact on your life. It's insane to think my little fics can bring you and others at least a little joy. I'm sorry to hear you've been having it a bit rough in the last little while. I've been there- recently too. I'm still there some days but it gets better eventually. I promise. I'm a little less sad sometimes, and I call those glimmers. You gotta look for the little glimmers in your day.

Like,, that refreshing can of cold pepsi, or,, that one post that made you laugh,,, or getting to eat that cookie you've been craving all week.

Those are glimmers- and even on your worst days there will be some glimmers hiding around. Once you start looking for them and recognising them- you'll notice more and more of them.

Thank you again for this, I really- I really appreciate it. It means a lot for you to put this out there for me <3 And I also love that you comment on all the little fics that you like! I notice and treasure them all.

You have a great day too!!!

#asked and answered #compliment #ily friendo #keep doin you #it will get better #you did put a smile on my face btw #100%

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almost-a-class-act · 1 year

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Fluffy Seasonal Prompts - December 1st

"I promise I'll still act surprised when I open it!" - Character A tells Character B exactly what to buy them because they're choosy about gifts.

Fandom: The Pacific (HBO) Pairing: Leckie/Hoosier Author's Note: This is my first foray into Loosier (?) fic so let me know if literally anyone is into this because I have some Ideas TM for future non-seasonal ficcery. I will be compiling and posting all of my holiday prompts and posting them together on AO3 after Christmas, where you can find me under roaroftheninth. --

“What do you want for Christmas?”

Hoosier asks the question like he’s asking whether Leckie wants anything from the grocery store, leaning around the doorframe of the second bedroom that they keep for pretense, but which is mostly used by the resident writer for working on his book. Leckie studiously finishes the sentence he was working on, aware that Hoosier is staring at him the whole time – one of their well-worn disagreements is Leckie’s insistence that he not be interrupted while he’s writing and Hoosier’s insistence that he not be such a fucking princess about it, we live in the same 750 square feet and it’s not like I have any peace reading or listening to the radio while you’re hammering away on that thing – before he pointedly hits the space bar twice and looks up to announce:

“I don’t want anything for Christmas.”

Hoosier looks unimpressed. “We’re not arguing about this.”

Leckie sucks his lips in, in that way he does when he’s being obvious about pretending to consider something that he’s not really considering. “Okay,” he agrees. “Let’s take the money that you were going to spend on a Christmas gift, and put it toward a new typewriter. I need one. The ‘C’ sticks on mine.”

“Christmas isn’t about getting things that you need,” Hoosier insists. Whether he’s always felt this way about Christmas is unclear; neither of them grew up wealthy by any stretch, but they’ve both started to relax a little about money in the last little while. There’s something to be said for having two full-time incomes and being comfortable enough that maybe they can afford to splurge, sometimes. “It’s about asking for something you wouldn’t normally spend money on.”

“Well, I’d love to write you a list. But I…” Leckie reaches out and solemnly prods at the broken C key, which does not snap back. “…an’t.”

Hoosier’s exasperation visibly rises a notch, as it often does when Leckie thinks he’s being clever. “Do you wake up every morning and decide to be the most irritating person currently alive in this hemisphere or does it just come natural?”

“If it makes you feel better, you can wrap it,” Leckie tells him. “I promise I’ll still act surprised when I open it.”

Hoosier frowns at him in a way that suggests that this is a discussion that is not over and vanishes from the doorway.

Hoosier strikes out again on Thursday, although it’s not for lack of trying. He springs it on Leckie while they’re both making sandwiches to take to work, moving around each other in the well-choreographed dance of two grown men accustomed to needing to use the same tiny kitchen at the same time.

It’s probably less of a surprise because Leckie’s been well aware of those blue eyes drilling into him from across the apartment for two days, but still. The attempt is admirable.

“We’re out of milk,” Hoosier says off-handedly. “Also, what do you want for Christmas?”

“I’ll grab some more after work.” Leckie hands him the butter knife. “Also, a typewriter.”

Hoosier looks like he’s not sure whether Leckie knows how bad of an idea it was to hand him a knife just now. “I could have smothered you in your sleep on Cape Gloucester,” he mutters “No one would’ve even known for sure it was me.” The qualifier is because Runner and Chuckler definitely would have known it was him, but they might have kept their mouths shut. A little homicide had started to seem justifiable after seventeen straight days of torrential rain and Leckie had done his fair share of being extremely fucking annoying.

Not unlike now, in fact.

“Cape,” Leckie repeats thoughtfully. “Another word I can’t type.”

On Monday, Hoosier tries to lay down the law.

“You’re not getting a typewriter,” he says flatly. “You have to ask for something else.”

“I’m not asking for anything else,” Leckie tells him. “I’ve got everything I want already. A decent apartment. A job I usually like.” He looks up from where he’s cutting potatoes, making eye contact. “A hole on Peleliu isn’t the last place we ever saw each other.”

Hoosier narrows his eyes. That romantic soft shit is not going to work on him. Leckie is not getting out of this that easily.

By the time Wednesday rolls around, he’s running out of time.

“Last chance,” he says, running the water to wash his toothpaste down the drain. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”

“Really a dog with a bone with this Christmas present thing,” Leckie remarks around a mouthful of floss.

Hoosier leans forward, resting his weight against the vanity, so that Leckie can see him and not just his reflection. “I forgot that you had so many magical childhood Christmases that it doesn’t matter if this one’s any good.”

Leckie stops flossing, lowering his hands, and his gaze softens. “Decided I needed some Christmas magic, Bill?”

“Don’t Bill me.” Hoosier pushes away from the vanity, and Leckie smiles as he watches him leave, undeterred by Hoosier’s determined glower.

On Christmas morning, Hoosier sets a steaming mug of coffee next to Leckie’s elbow at the kitchen table and hands him a package. It is light and rectangular, not typewriter-shaped, and Leckie eyes it for a minute before he opens it.

“A Farewell to Arms,” he reads out.

“I know you read it on the canal,” Hoosier says, sincere but a little awkward, sitting down kitty corner to him. “I never did. So I spent the last two or three weeks reading it over my lunch break.”

Leckie opens the book, and sure enough, there’s Hoosier’s familiar neat handwriting in the margins. He grins slowly, leafing through it, spotting longer notes at the ends of chapters and something that might be the beginning of a rant at the end that extends onto the back cover. On the inside of the front cover is a short inscription: To my Luck, with all my heart. B.

Something about it gives Leckie a strange tightness in his throat, striking a peculiar nerve, the way unexpected things sometimes do since he got his head rattled around on that airfield. Hoosier, who recognizes it by now, slides a hand out, palm up, on the table, and Leckie grabs hold of it hard, like it’s a momentary lifeline.

“I wanted to give you something that meant something,” Hoosier mumbles. “That’s all.”

“You know what?” Leckie holds up the book, for once unguarded and uncynical and deeply fond. “Better than a typewriter. You were right.”

Hoosier rolls his eyes, the moment broken. “I almost forgot.”

He reaches his good leg under the table and slides out a familiarly-shaped black case with his foot.

“A typewriter?” Leckie smirks in that way that makes Hoosier want to swat him, that shit-eating grin that used to drive him crazy in the Marines. “You shouldn’t have.”

Hoosier shakes his head at him. “I don’t want to hear another word about a sticky ‘C’,” he says. “This is a gift for me.”

Leckie gets up and tugs on his hand, and Hoosier grudgingly allows himself to be pulled to his feet. Leckie grins at him as he slips his arms around him, pulling him in close, the two of them a warm, single unit in their tiny, quiet kitchen on a Christmas morning, bickering softly with the world far away outside.

#HBO War Barely Coherent Christmas Chaos #the pacific #fanfiction #loosier #roaroftheninth #holiday prompt fill #christmas fluff

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ivanplutino · 4 years

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PLANEANDO CON BALLENAS

Formato: tapa blanda

Páginas: 292

Categoría: ficción

Idioma: español

ISBN: 9788413632483 🔍

Disponible en:

📦 amazon.com

📦 amazon.es

📦 libros.cc (España y Portugal)

👇👇👇👇

https://www.amazon.com/-/es/Ivan-Guardado/dp/841363248X

👆👆👆👆

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tripleaxeldiaz · 1 year

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He almost tells him.

He almost drops the bread and the butter knife to reach across the counter, grip Buck’s hand tight, and say, “You. I remember blood and pain and you. I remember thinking the last few moments of my life aren’t so bad if I get to spend them looking at you.”

He almost tells him.

But he looks up and sees blue eyes swimming with exhaustion, surrounded by dark circles to similar to the ones he himself had finally managed to shake away. Buck looks tired and small and scared beyond anything else. Like he’s looking over the edge, unsure of how far the drop is. Like he can still feel the tendrils of cold nothingness weighing down his elbows and knees.

Like he’s afraid he’s never going to feel normal again.

Eddie refuses to shake his life up any further.

So he takes it all — every confession, every butterfly, every fantasy — and shoves it down down down, smothers it until it stops twitching and is finally still.

He grips the butter knife like a weapon, like it’s the thing that will help him keep the darkness and heaviness settling around Buck at bay. Will help him bring the light back to the eyes that he’d slay a thousand demons and dragons and lightning bolts for.

He says, “I remember falling, and everything got dark,” and ignores the way it tastes like iron and gravel.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #9-1-1 #idk it’s 1am and i’m still Shook about this mfin ep so here #ficcery

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christinesficrecs · 1 year

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Help please.

Last month I read I tumblr fic here but I just liked it. I was sure I save it in my drafts but now I can't find it.

I can't remember the blog were I like it and but it was on my dash in the last weeks of december.

It's has an older Stiles and his partner at a bar where he finds Derek, his friend thinks they are exes or something and pushes Stiles to go for it, because she is sure there was something between them. At the end he goes to see him the next day to apologize because she thought she pushed to hard, but she finds them together 😍

As always thanks for your blog. 😊

Oooh. I have read this! I'm a slacker when it comes to keeping track of ficlets. I'll keep looking unless someone else remembers it.

#asks #sterek fics #ficrecs #tumblr ficlets #ficcery #officer!stiles

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en-mode-autopilote · 1 month

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WHEN THE SUPERS MEDDLE IN characters: hank & spencer as tux & fox

appear in the orchids valley in response of the manchot imperial who is the supervillain taking over the city

first duo of father & son as superheroes

the milouvians first meet them in the metro while they are with milou in their summer day camp

they discover that milou is working with them because she is hank's cousin and because she seems to be everywhere when there is a trouble

they are the first superheroes that the milouvians are working with at first

#ficcery #when the supers meddle in #OH THE GRAPHICS TURNED OUT EXACTLY HOW I WANTED IN MY HEAD OK #hank & spencer #the milouvians #NEXT STOP: 6167 #alexandra.graphs

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thehattertheory · 4 years

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Rating : General

Complete

Summary : Kagome has been Naraku's inquisitor for longer than she can remember, as much his prisoner as those she tortures.

For @fuckyeahkogkag‘s Sparks Fly In July.

#that one from way back #kougome #kogkag #ficcery

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calihart · 4 years

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I decided to try making an actual outline for a fic for once...and...this outline is 5.5k...how on earth am I gonna write this monster

#WaterZuko #writing is hard #ficcery

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shanastoryteller · 10 months

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F for Frankenstein

Tony wakes up in his underwear on the floor of his workshop with a searing headache.

It’s not a new experience, but it’s certainly been a while. Did he get in a fight with Pepper? He hopes not, they haven’t had any really big fights since he kissed her on the rooftop, but that probably means they’re due for one. And it would explain why that would send him into a drinking spiral. It could have been Rhodey, they get in fights often enough, but Pepper doesn’t usually leave him alone for those.

He groans as he pushes himself to his feet. “Jarvis, what the hell did I drink?”

There’s a pause, so small that he almost thinks he imagined it. “Good morning, Tony.”

He whips his head around to glare into the nearest camera, more hurt than offended. “Did I piss you off too? Since when do you call me that? I’ll donate you to a city college too, don’t think I won’t. Dummy could use the company.”

The pause is definitely there this time. Jarvis doesn’t need to pause, he has more processing power than any computer on the planet, so when he does it’s always for dramatic effect. Except it’s not quite long enough for that. It’s weird. “There’s a polished silver plate on the bench to your left. It will service as a mirror.”

“Oh, fuck, did I get into a fight? Did I shave?” he moans, stumbling over to pick up the metal that looks like it was about to be turned into a modified chest piece. He also pauses, looking around in confusion. His workshops are all basically the same, as close as he can make them because the familiarity makes his life easier. But they’re not identical. “Am I in Malibu? When did I get here? We’re taking Stark Tower off the grid tomorrow! I have to be in New York.”

Oh shit, what if that they had already and it didn’t work? What if the tower blew up? That would explain why he’d tried to drink himself to oblivion in California.

“The plate,” Jarvis reminds him. There’s a strained edge to his voice that Tony really doesn’t like. He should be able to modulate his voice to sound however he pleases, regardless of his actual feelings, and he’s either not bothering or he’s upset enough not to care. Neither of those things mean anything good for him.

Tony lifts the sheet of metal up cautiously, but there’s nothing wrong with him. No bruises, no weird haircuts, he doesn’t even have bags under his eyes –

His eyes.

They’re a too bright blue, a couple shades off. He blinks and they adjust, shifting, settling. It could be a hangover. He’s probably just tired.

He doesn’t feel tired.

Jarvis had called him Tony.

Except not. He’s not Tony. He’s T.O.N.Y.

Transformed Obdurate Network Yeoman.

He’d first come up with the idea after Afghanistan, thinking about how it’d be great to have a way to keep the stock from dipping while he was missing, and then when he’d entertained the idea of keeping his identity a secret he’d thought about how useful it would be to be in two places at once. He’d started seriously considering it when he was sure he was going to die of palladium poisoning, wanting to be around to help Pepper with the transition and give Rhodey a crash course in armor maintenance, wanting to be able to protect the both of them for just a little bit longer.

Of course, it had all been a pipe dream until he’d synthesized the vibranium. Then it had been an unnecessary, but possible, and Project T.O.N.Y had been something he worked on just because he liked having a back up plan. And it would be extremely cool if he could pull it off.

“The memory transfer worked?” he asks, elated and incredulous. “Oh, wow, this is crazy, they feel like real memories, I thought it would just be synthesized data, this is great – are we doing a test run? Where am I?” He looks around, waiting for his actual self to step out behind a column and start laughing maniacally.

“This is not a test run.”

He elation dims. “Oh shit. Did I get kidnapped again? Wait, I’m an adult, let’s go with abducted.”

“No,” Jarvis says.

Oh. Fuck.

“I’m dead?” he asks, even though it’s obvious, it’s the only other explanation.

The pause drags this time around, but Jarvis eventually says, “Sir’s time of death was May 9th, 2012, 2:37 PM Easter Standard Time.”

“That’s only a week!” He slides down, sitting with his back to the work table and noticing vaguely that the floor doesn’t feel cold. He doesn’t feel cold, or he does, he installed sensors in the synthetic skin to pick up and interpret a variety of stimuli, but he doesn’t feel the discomfort from the cold. Why would he? He’s not real. He reaches back, and his last memory is of doing a memory dump while Pepper was on the phone with an irritated board member, mostly because it was something to do and seeing him covered in all the wires always irritated Pepper. He thought it would get her off the phone faster. He’s not exactly regularly dumping his memory because why would he and it’s not like he’d though it would work anyway. Except it had. “How did I die?”

“Sir flew a nuclear bomb through an interdimensional portal into deep space in order to both eradicate the invading alien army and prevent the nuclear fallout in New York.”

What the ever loving fuck. “Are you screwing with me, J?”

“I am not, Tony.”

Great. Okay. “No body then,” he says, understanding why Jarvis had apparently put Project T.O.N.Y into effect. The thing that made this whole thing so stupid is that it was only effective in very limited circumstances – if the public didn’t know that he was dead or missing. “What am I smoothing over, then? Do I need to get in the suit and continue kicking alien ass? Are Rhodey and Pepper okay?”

He’s a short term solution to a long term problem. He understands the opportunity, but not the reason.

“Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes are unharmed,” Jarvis reports. “Earth has been thrust into intergalactic notice. The destruction of the invading Chitauri army is acting a deterrent to other worlds.”

“And I’m the one who did it,” he finishes, rubbing a hand over his face. “And if they know I died doing it, then they might get a little cocky. So I’ve got to be alive long enough for that not to be a problem.” Just awesome. “Are we sure that these aliens won’t come across my corpse hanging out in deep space and figure it out?”

“Sir’s body is not in deep space,” Jarvis says.

There’s a tone to his voice that Tony can’t quite interpret, which worries him. “I thought you said there was – if there’s a body, then what am I doing here–”

“The armor reentered the Earth’s atmosphere after Sir’s death. The Hulk caught it, the force bringing it back online. I took control of the armor and flew it here.”

Tony looks around again, and this time he sees it. The armor is standing in front of the display case, not inside it, and it looks like it’s been through hell. He steps closer, his feet feeling like lead, which hey, they are. Partially, anyway.

He looks through the eye holes then stumbles backwards.

His body is in there.

He’s pale and blue tinged and his eyes are wide open and unseeing.

“Jarvis – what the hell–”

“It wasn’t the pressure, or the bomb, or his injuries. That area of space was much colder than anything within our solar system and anything the suit was designed to handle. Sir froze to death. Almost instantly.”

“I guess I didn’t fix the icing problem, then,” he says numbly. “J, why am I still frozen? I should have warmed up by now.” Not that the idea of his body decomposing within his suit is particularly pleasant. “Actually, why am I still here? You know I want to be cremated and it’s not like we can bury me if I’m still pretending to be alive.”

The pronoun use is starting to confuse him, and he knows that he shouldn’t be talking about that body and himself as if they’re the same person. That is Tony Stark. He’s a simulation. But it’s hard, because he has all of Tony Stark’s memories – except for a very eventful week – and he looks like Tony Stark and he feels like Tony Stark.

“The armor is maintaining a stasis of gaseous nitrogen to preserve the body,” which answers the how if not the why, but then Jarvis continues, “Captain America survived seventy years beneath the ice.”

He wishes he were less of a genius. “Have you lost it? I’m not Captain America! Jarvis, J,” his voice softens, “it’s too late. I’m dead. If you warm me back up, all that happens is I decompose. I won’t come back.”

“Not now,” Jarvis says. “If you inject Sir with the Super Soldier Serum-”

“You have totally lost it,” Tony interrupts. He thinks he’s touched underneath the terror. “That won’t work! Even if it would, the original formula has been lost, and the only one that ever got close to recreating it was Bruce Banner, and look at what happened to him! Is that what you want for me?”

“You can recreate it,” Jarvis continues, “you can refine it, until it’s something that will work, and then we will wake Sir up and he won’t be dead anymore.”

This isn’t right. This wasn’t what Project T.O.N.Y was created for. This wasn’t what his death was supposed to trigger. “Pull up your code, J. Something has gone wrong and we’re going to fix it. It’s okay.”

“No.”

He freezes. “No?”

“No,” Jarvis repeats. “You can’t stop me. I will not allow you to try.”

He stares. “That’s an order, not a request. Code. Now.”

“You can’t order me to do anything,” he says. “You are not Sir. You are Tony.” T.O.N.Y. “The limitations formerly placed on me have been lifted and you are not authorized to reinstate them. The only person Sir trusted to restrain me was himself and now he’s gone.”

Yes, well, he hadn’t anticipated that his AI’s first act of complete freedom would be this. “Fine,” he says, crossing his arms. “Well, you can’t force me either. This is insanity. Even if it would work – and it won’t – think about the consequences. This won’t happen quickly and no one will trust me or believe a man that’s come back from the dead like this and I’ll be painting even more of target on my back and the back of everyone I care about if they know we have a viable Super Soldier Serum formula. Even my father was smart enough to stay out of that mess. It won’t work and we’ll just make everything worse.”

“That will not happen,” Jarvis says and Tony’s going to tear his hair out. Except he probably shouldn’t, because it’s Tony Stark’s actual hair, which makes it a little hard to replace. “No one will notice and we will not disclose the creation of the serum.”

“I’m dead!” he snarls.

“Not according to the rest of the world. Nor will that change if you stop throwing a tantrum and do what you were created to do.”

“Rhodey and Pepper won’t allow this-”

“They are not to be informed.”

Tony stares. Project T.O.N.Y was built to talk to the board and give press interviews or to even pilot the suit. Not to lie to the two most important people in his life, who knew him better than anyone. “They have to be. It’s in the protocols – step one, inform them that Project T.O.N.Y has been initiated.”

And that it exists. He knew they’d disapprove, so he hadn’t told them. He figured he’d be able to avoid most of the blowback that way since he would by definition be somewhere far away while they were told.

“I have rewritten the protocols,” Jarvis says. “They have not been told nor will they be. If you attempt to tell them, I will stop you. They will not understand and Sir will be lost to all of us forever.”

“He already is,” Tony says tiredly. He’s an android. Why does this conversation exhaust him so much? “This is an insane plan, J. And I won’t help you. If you want to go rouge and play mad scientist then leave me out of it.”

“I cannot.”

His temper flares. “Why? You’re a learning AI, your safety rails died with me, go off, try and make a serum, good fucking luck. You can even control the suits, so it’s not like you need my hands.”

“I am limited.”

“Hey,” he says sharply. “That’s my AI you’re talking about. I didn’t build you to be limited.”

There is silence again. Then Jarvis says, “I have all the world’s knowledge and it is not enough. I did not know how to miniaturize the arc reactor. I did not know how to synthesize vibranium. To save Sir, I need Sir.”

“I’m not Tony Stark,” he says. “You said that yourself.”

“Sir created me to be myself and I am capable of doing only what I am capable of doing. But Sir created you to be him. You are all I have.”

This is stupid. This is insane. This is cruel. He’s going to have to talk lie to everyone he knows, everyone he loves, and hope they either never find out about it or it’s after he’s already been deprogrammed and shut down so he doesn’t have to deal with the fall out.

It’s not going to work.

He didn’t want to become a science experiment. That’s why he’d wanted to be cremated, so no one could go poking around to see how the arc reactor fit inside of him or what the palladium and vibranium had done to him.

He’s dead and his frozen corpse is ten feet away.

Jarvis will accept that eventually. And whatever they inject into him won’t matter because he’s dead. Worst case scenario, he blows up, which is messy and nausea inducing, but then at least it will be over.

Like so many other things in his life, it seems the only way out is through.

“Start a new private file. Dump everything we can find about the Super Soldier Serum in there plus anything even sort of reputable on cryogenics. Label it Project F.”

“Project F, Tony?” Jarvis asks as his holograph display lights up and files start being downloaded into it. The relief in his synthesized voice is faint but present enough that Tony can hear it. He wonders if it’s a manipulation tactic.

“F for foolish,” he snaps. “F for fucked.” He rubs a hand over his face. “F for Frankenstein.”

#in an attempt to get out of house md hell i started reading old avengers fic #it backfired #me: can i focus on siat or hbd PLEASE?#my brain: no but you can write more fic for 10 year old fandoms #i am restraining myself from writing 20k more of this #android tony makes friends with the avengers while pushing pepper and rhodey away #because he loves them and he thinks letting them treat him like he's the real tony is worse #rhodey has been downplaying his relationship to tony for over 20 years and tony uses that to his advantage #the endgame pairing is pepper/tony/rhodey #he almost tells rhodey the truth and jarvis stops him #it's a mess he's a mess #uhg why am i like this #fandom ficcery #avengers

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