#*shrug* i had some ficlets that needed finishing

[zadralien]

He wanted Dib to beg for his life.

Dib has become his life.

Ficlet under the cut.

“Fuck, Zim!” Dib reaches up to gingerly press his fingers to his nose and feels the thick blood pooling down past his mouth. “I swear to god, you fucking bug, if you’ve gone and broken my nose again I’ll-“

“-Shut up!” Zim shrieks, pak legs unfurling and clanking onto the concrete. He rises above Dib and encroaches slowly, legs clacking with each step. “You.. you worm! Do you have any idea what you could have done?”

“Dude, it was just some papers. I didn’t even read them for christ’s sake. They’re in Irken, you of all people should know I’m slow at translating that chicken scratch of yours.” Dib looks forlornly at the stack of crumpled papers a few feet away, scattered and likely marked with a spray of Dib’s blood. He turns back to look up at Zim when he snarls, reaching out a gloved claw to shove Dib back hard.

“They’re not for you, they’re Zim’s private papers!” Zim leans further over Dib, tongue curling and spitting flecks of saliva onto Dib’s face. Dib scrubs at his face, remembering how disrespectful spitting is considered in Irken culture. It burns a little.

“I don’t give a shit what they are. I didn’t even mean to touch them! I just wanted to put my crap down.” He meets Zim’s eyes. They’re a deep red and set in a foul expression. “I’m not interested in your secrets. You can keep those. It’s not like I don’t know everything anyway.”

Zim stiffens and Dib’s expression softens despite himself. He runs a tired hand through his hair and steels his gaze.

“You don’t really think I’m that big of an idiot, do you? You’ve just been quietly shoving your fat green head into my life over the last year and suddenly you save my life. I don’t know man, a guy spends his entire life trying to kill you and then just stops you from bleeding out some random Tuesday? That was weird.“ Dib shrugs, looking away briefly.

“That does not mean anything, Dib-worm. You were bleeding all over my base, it was disgusting. Zim had to stop it somehow.”

Dib shakes his head.

“It’s okay, Zim. I know we’re friends. I don’t know why, and I don’t care to know - but I know you’re lost and don’t know where to go. I know, and it’s okay. I’m lost too. We can be lost together. Your leaders, the Tallest -“.

“Don’t.” Zim grits out, quiet in a way Dib has never heard, didn’t know was possible. Physically, he begins trying to reach one hand out to soothe, to touch, to reassure. Mentally, he begs his sister to come collect his corpse once she realises what most likely happened to him. Damn it, he hopes she realises.

He isn’t that surprised when Zim lunges at him, but he wishes he’d had more time to brace before an Irken claw punches into his chest to grab at the material of his shirt. He wheezes a little.

“You do not know what you speak of, you pathetic slime! Do not mistake your loneliness for Zim’s. Zim doesn’t need you, Zim doesn’t need this dust bowl of a planet. One more fucking word and I’ll finish what that disgusting cryptid creature started last year.”

The human swear word sounds weird coming out of the alien’s mouth, but it’s not the first time. He’d only ever heard Zim swear once before - specifically when he got shredded by a cryptid in the woods and, in a blood-loss haze, made his way to Zim’s base to start bleeding out on his frenemies floor. He knows how hard it is to admit how miserable you are on the inside, especially to the people that matter most.

Well, he had made it this far.

“I know you Zim, and it’s okay.”

Zim’s quiet for a moment before he speaks, clenching his jaw.

“Beg.”

“What?”

“Zim told you, one more word. Now you beg for your pathetic life, you insolent worm.”

“I’m not going to - Zim, stop it. You know I’m right. I care about you too! It’s fine!”

Zim snarls, fist clenched, pak legs raising him to his full height. Dib’s heart drops when he sees one leg glint as it lifts itself behind Zim, preparing to strike.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He might actually die today. Shit.

“Beg!”

“No!”

“Beg!”

Shit. The leg is calibrating.

“I’m all you have! Kill me and you’ll have nothing. You know it too!”

Zim stops. The leg pauses. His eyes are wide, frightened, conflicted. He chokes out a pained sound, continuing to clench and unclench his fist. He yanks Dib closer by the shirt still tangled in his fist. Dib breathes heavily.

“Beg Zim not to kill you.” His voice is raw, tired. His eyes roam over Dib’s face, carefully categorising and assessing. The stilted pak leg drops back to the ground.

Dib’s whole body un-tenses despite the proximity. The alien’s face turns slowly into a somewhat unreadable resignation.

Dib swallows the lump.

“Please.” He whispers quietly. Swaying, pressing forward.

“You fool.”

[2000sangel]

Heyy! I hope you're having a good day. My fav hazbin character is Husk. Could you please do a ficlet where he and the reader have feelings for each other but are both nervous to admit it. Husk is having a bad day and maybe really stressed and the reader tries to comfort him? Maybe says something like "you're always a great listener for everyone one else, but you need someone to listen to you too". Lots of comfort, fluff, confessions, and love please! ♡♡ my heart aches for this sweet grumpy kitty!

Hey to you! This turned out a bit long, and maybe I did rush the end because I'm just...still not used to writing short fics, ahah. But hey, it's finished and I hope you enjoy it at least a bit!

Text divider by : cafekitsune

Husk x Reader - We found love in Hell

“I’m back!”

You announced, closing the entrance door of the Hotel behind you. You had gone out to run a few errands earlier in the day, and now that it was night the only thing on your mind was lying in bed and falling asleep.

Angel, already back from work and concentrated on his phone, waved at you tiredly; you decided to sit next to him on the couch after shooting a smile at Husk, who seemed grumpier than usual.

Albeit a bit lazily, you and Angel Dust started chatting for a bit, telling each other about how your day went and what you did. When the topic of the other residents of the Hotel came up, the spider demon lowered his voice to a whisper.

“I’ve got to say toots; Whiskers over there is in a bad mood today.” He revealed to you, making you perk up immediately.

“Oh, I did notice he didn’t seem up to a conversation, that’s why I didn’t bother him...” your gaze fell on his figure, all you could see was his back; he seemed to be busying himself with something. “You know if anything happened?”

Angel shrugged, then smirked at you slyly.

“Not sure, but I know of a few things you could try to cheer him up.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully before shaking your head.

“No thanks, I’ll pass. I’ll talk to him though, thank you for telling me.”

Angel knew very well of you and Husk’s crushes on each other, so he didn’t mind playing matchmaker sometimes. He guessed the best thing to do would’ve been to leave the two of you alone, so he stretched a bit before getting up and announcing that he was off to bed.

You told him goodnight, while Husk simply gave him a nod.

In all honesty, you felt a little bad going up to him for conversation now that you knew he wasn’t in the best mood, but you still did so in hopes of comforting him at least a little. When you sat at the counter, he finally turned around.

“Good evening Husk, how are you?” you faked ignorance and asked, resting your face on your hand. He fluttered his wings and nodded at you as a greeting, putting aside the cloth he had been using to clean the sink.

“Can’t complain. How about you? Want me to pour you somethin’?” he asked despite looking particularly beat, as Angel had warned you.

You shook your head.

“No, just wanted to, y’know... talk to you for a bit before going to bed. Are you sure you’re okay?” your warm smile admittedly made his cheek flush. He was glad that his fur could cover that up at least partially.

Concentrating on your question though, he gave you a deep sigh.

“Yeah, yeah. Just a couple things on my mind today, but who doesn’t go through that.” He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair; it was your turn to blush.

However you weren’t a fan of how vague he was being. You sighed, which made him turn towards you once again.

“It is common I guess. But even this morning you seemed troubled, so you know...you always listen to others, but it’s fine if sometimes you need to be listened to, too.”

Husk wasn’t one to have big reactions but, having been close for some time, you did notice his eyebrows raising a little at your statement. Still, you hoped he’d say something. When he didn’t, you continued to fill the silence.

“...Not to push you, of course. Maybe you want distractions, I can talk about my day or something...just, let me know how I can help now that I’m here, yeah?”

He took a deep breath, then leaned on the bar’s counter so he could be closer to you, copying your position with his head resting on his hand.

“Ya worry too much, really, I’m fine. Just had way too many interactions with...” he let out a sigh; Alastor, you guessed. It wasn’t surprising that he would be distraught after interacting with the demon he had lost his soul to.

He was pretty vague in his explanations of what happened too, but if he didn’t want to go too in depth about how he felt you were going to respect that. Eventually, the two of you noticed that it was getting late, so you decided to turn off the big lights in favour of smaller, dimmer ones that set a cosy atmosphere.

You sat comfortably on the couch, legs crossed as you listened to Husk speak about a lighter topic now; how everyone had been asking to mix way too complicated cocktails lately while he was already in a bad mood. You knew this wasn’t aimed at you as you either always asked for the same one or didn’t even order one at all, too busy dealing with errands for Charlie or yourself.

“...Thanks for listenin’, by the way.” He said suddenly, and you smiled at him.

“It’s not a problem, that’s what...friends are for.” You said hesitantly.

“Yeah, I s’ppose.”

Friends, you both thought, unbeknownst to each other. You and Husk had been friends for a while, always relying on each other when things got bad. Always managed to break through each other’s walls and get the other to talk about their deepest troubles.

It was clear to everyone at the Hotel that you two were very close, and saw the other in a very positive light, one that outshined the definition of ‘friend’; there was something more that you both wanted, but were too scared, perhaps because of past experiences, to go through with.

“Been a while since I sat with someone to talk about something until late at night.” Husk confessed, breaking your train of thoughts.

“It’s just because it’s me, I bet.” You said jokingly, yet boldly. He chuckled.

“Usually it’s the other way around. They talk, I listen. Feels nice to be listened to.”

Even though you were the listener in this case, he made sure to make you feel appreciated by basically confessing that there was nobody else he’d open up to. You admittedly felt too tired to conjure any insightful thought or answer, so you simply leaned against him; the sudden contact made his ears perk up, but he slowly got comfortable with it and cuddled closer to you himself.

“I’ll always listen to you, Husk.”

“I thought I lost the ability to love long ago;” you thought he was about to start another rant, so you slightly looked up at him to let him know he had your full attention; “Turns out my old heart was jus’ waiting for you to come along.” He finished, looking away.

You felt his wing tentatively reach to hug your side, so you shifted a bit to allow it to. It was warm, comfortable. Exactly how you felt around Husk.

Registering his words, the blush on your cheeks spread. This was his own way of confessing to you.

“I love you, too.” He let his head rest on the top of yours as you muttered those words nervously, as if it was a gesture meant to comfort you.

The next morning, Charlie had to contain a squeal as her and the rest of the residents of the Hotel found you cuddled up next to each other on the cough, sleeping soundly, wrapped in Husk’s wings as if they were a blanket.

[impsandstars]

Post Mastermind Ficlet: Come color with me. (Ao3 link)

Blitz tapped his foot impatiently, watching the company printer slowly spit out each page.

When it was finally finished he grabbed the stack, gently placing it within his shoulder bag before turning to Moxx and Mills.

“Night you two. Don’t get up to anything I wouldn’t doooo.”

Moxxie rolled his eyes but Millie waved at him, giving him one of those intense looks again.

“Night B…remember we’re just a phone call away if you need anything.”

Blitz nodded, giving her a small sincere smile, more grateful for that than he could say aloud but he knew she understood.

—••—

Blitz walked into the apartment quietly, immediately looking over to the small kitchen table to see Stolas sitting there, eyes still a bit vacant but the plate in front of him was half finished of the leftovers Blitz had left him and he would take any victory, no matter how small.

“Hey Stols.” He greeted his bird, smile widening when Stolas looked his way and the barest of smiles lit his face.

Baby steps.

Blitz held up his bag and shook it a bit, “Brought us an after dinner activity. Up for it?”

Stolas nodded, taking his plate and mug to the kitchen to rinse out.

Blitz grabbed his box of colored pencils from the small cabinet next to the front door and then spread out all the pages he had photocopied onto the table.

Each page had a random assortment of doodles of his horse ocs that he had been accumulating over the years. He smiled proudly at them all.

A few days ago he had read offhandedly that doing art could be therapeutic, something to do with mindfulness or some shit and wondered if it may help Stolas. He didn’t know if his bird liked to draw or color but it was worth a shot.

Blitz sat down, shuffling through a few pages, and picked out one of the ones he drew a few months ago of Sand Castle, the tall lesbian horse who hated oranges.

Blitz selected a light brown colored pencil and just began to add color to Sand Castle's mane when Stolas sat back down across from him. Blitz tried his damnedest not to watch Stolas’s every move and silently sighed with relief when the man began shuffling through the page.

There was a soft hum a few moments later that did bring Blitz’s eyes up.

In Stolas’s hand was a drawing Blitz had drawn of Stolas as a horse. Spindly legs, long neck, fluffy all around and a little top hat to complete the look. He had totally forgotten about that one.

“Is this me?” Stolas asked softly and Blitz wanted to jump up and down because Stolas was smiling and he looked amused and it was because of Blitz. Who needed Sinsmas gifts when Blitz was practically on cloud nine just watching his bird smile.

“Yup! There should be one of me somewhere in there too. You should be honored, I don’t draw just anyone as a horse you know.”

Stolas’s smile widened, eyes softening and Blitz had to fight down the urge to kiss him again. Not that he had been making a habit of doing it while Stolas was sleeping (okay he had done it three more times but in his defense Stolas had been extra fluffy on those days and was practically asking for it).

“Thank you Blitz.” And once again Blitz could hear the depth to that thank you, understood that it was conveying far more than just bringing some coloring book pages for them to do for the evening.

Blitz shrugged but waited until they made eye contact to say, “It’s no trouble at all," hoping Stolas would also understand what he was trying to say.

It seemed to as Stolas’s eyes got a little misty, his shoulders finally seeming to relax since Blitz arrived home.

They continued coloring for the next few hours, Stolas picking up random pages and asking Blitz to explain who each horse was as he colored them in.

Every chance he got he would try to spin some outlandish story about the inner relationships of his horses to try to make Stolas laugh and although most of the time Stolas just smiled, he did get a few chuckles which made his heart race every time.

They would get through this. Together. One evening at a time.

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

Little!April x Cg!Ben - Leaving

just a lil ficlet of how I see the decision being made that April will go to D.C. with Ben !! My fave da and bubba at the moment (I didn’t edit this cause I’m supposed to be studying … mama ann content coming in the next few days will be much better tho)

Word count: 1204

Everything was perfect. April was on the couch with her back against Andy’s shoulder as he played the Xbox. She had her bat paci in her mouth and her stuffie in her arms. She was even wearing one of Andy’s flannels which swamped her and made her feel tiny. Andy was feeling a bit bigger than usual and was playing scary games which April thought were so cool. She was happily listening to the sounds of the games and suckling her pacifier when Ben came in. “Hey ‘Pril,” he smiled, ruffling April’s hair playfully. She groaned and squirmed away but it didn't really upset her. “Hey, can I talk to you kids?” Ben asked.

“Can I finish this level?” Andy asked without taking his eyes off the screen. April rolled her eyes, Andy was too obsessed. She leant over and turned off his game. “April!” Andy whined.

April dropped her paci onto the couch, “Da needs to talk,” she shrugged.

“Thanks April. Andy, this is only going to take a minute.” Ben sat down on the ottoman opposite the couch, clasping his hands together nervously. “I’ve taken a job in Washington running a congressional campaign, I'm going to be away for a few months.” April’s heart sank. He couldn’t leave. She needed Da. Who else would make her bottles and let her draw on their face and back her up when Andy’s being annoying? And how would she sleep if Da didn’t tuck her in?

“What’s a coressional campaign?” Andy asked. How could he care about that right now? Da was leaving. This was the worst news ever.

“Well, it’s sort of like what Leslie did on a bigger scale buddy,” Ben explained. April’s chest felt heavy and wrong. She didn’t want to cry or to have Ben know that she cared so much but her eyes were burning and her cheeks felt hot. “April, are you alright little bat?” April shook her head firmly and reached out for Ben. He pulled her into his lap, letting her hide her face in his shoulder. “What happened, what’s going on in your little head?” April just huffed, now her face was hidden away she couldn’t hold back her tears. Ben frowned, rubbing circles against April’s back.

“Pril crying?” Andy questioned, rocking back and forth nervously, the out of character emotional outburst from his wife making him feel smaller.

“She’s alright, she’s just a little bit sad right now. I think she’s gonna miss Da, hm?” He questioned gently, trying to soothe April’s tear stricken face out of hiding.

“Nooo,” she whined, rubbing at her cheeks. Another wave of sobs hit her quickly and she tightened her grip on Ben’s shirt.

Andy shuffled up to the edge of the couch so he could reach over and pat her shoulder comfortingly. “You’re allowed to miss Da, ‘Pril.” April just whined and curled closer to Ben. She knew that if she was a bit bigger she would not let herself do this but she felt so small and she needed her Da.

“You’re alright baby bat, I’m right here,” Ben soothed, gently bouncing her on his knee. He picked up her pacifier off the couch and slipped it back into her mouth. The comfort item soothed April enough to stop the sobs. She still clung to Ben. “Alright, there we go.” Ben gently coaxed April’s face away from his shoulder, cupping her face in one hand and wiping her tears away with the other. “That’s it, you got it. Change can be scary can’t it, hm? But that doesn’t mean it’s bad.”

April’s face scrunched up, it was bad. “Bad bad bad,” she huffed, pressing her hands against her ears.

“No little Bat, it would just mean you could spend some more time with Leslie, or maybe Auntie Ann, doesn’t that sound nice?” April shook her head firmly, it did not sound nice. She wanted Da and she wanted everything to stay the same. Her life was nice, it was good. Everyday she came home and Da was always there to take care of her and Andy was there to play with her so, no, she didn’t think change would be nice. “Alright, that’s alright. You don’t have to like it right now.”

Andy huffed and leant back dramatically, growing bored and fidgety, “can I keep playing now?”

“No, go take a shower Bud, Leslie’s coming over for dinner.”

By the time Leslie arrived for dinner both the kids were showered and in their pajamas. April had calmed down significantly and was now wearing her favourite pyjamas - a short sleeve set with a little bat in the middle of the top and purple shorts. She stayed close to Ben, silently following him around the kitchen as he prepared calzones. “April, would you like me to brush your hair?” Leslie offered, noticing the girls wet and matted hair. April shook her head firmly, holding onto the hem of Ben’s shirt.

“April, go with Leslie darling.” April huffed and stomped her foot, frustrated tears pooling in her eyes.

Leslie frowned in confusion, unaware of April’s earlier upset. “What’s the matter April, this isn’t like you,”

Ben sighed, wrapping his arm around April. “She’s a bit upset that I’m going to D.C.” he explained. April shook her head and rubbed harshly at her eyes.

“Am not.”

Leslie sighed, “C’mere April.” April whined but reluctantly slipped onto the stool next to Leslie. “You know I’m gonna miss Ben too,” she explained as she began to brush April’s hair. “But he won’t be gone very long.” April crossed her arms, why didn’t they understand? This wasn’t ok. Everything was good how it was. Slowly Leslie began to realise the root of April’s upset. It wasn’t just that she’d miss Ben, it was that she didn’t want anything to change. “You know, Ben will need an assistant in Washington,” she suggested, glancing at Ben as she tied off the two plaits in April’s hair.

Ben realised what Leslie was suggesting quickly. “Wait, Pril, do you wanna come with Da?” April nodded eagerly.

“Please?”

“I don’t see why not,” Ben shrugged.

“Wha’ about Andy?”April asked, taking one of her plaits and chewing on the end.

“Andy,” Ben called. Andy poked his head up from behind the couch, a crayon sticking out of his mouth. “Andy.”

“Andy, crayon out please,” Leslie instructed. Andy frowned but spat it out.

“Thanks Buddy. What would you think if April came with me on that trip we talked about? Would you wanna come with us?” Andy scrunched his face up, Washington sounded fancy and grown up, plus he had to work on becoming a police officer!

“Psht no,” he laughed, “Burt Macklin has work to do!” And with that Andy disappeared back behind the couch.

“Well then ‘Pril,” Ben smiled, “what do you think of a little Da and April trip?”

April swung her legs happily. “Dada, ‘Pril.”

“Well it’s decided then, I’ll call Jenn in the morning.” He leant over and kissed the top of April’s head. Ben found the idea of having April with him in Washington comforting, knowing he wouldn’t have to worry about her all alone anymore.

[totallyunidentified]

Friendly Fire

This is the longest thing I've written yet.

I started this right after episode 14 came out early Wednesday morning.

Enjoy my little Echo ficlet/Prophecy

HEAVY SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 14 OF TBB SEASON 3

When they finally make it inside Tantiss, Crosshair's hand is shaking worse than ever. He had tried everything he could to not return only for his worst nightmare to happen. He’s back and Omega was there because of him. Because of his misfire. He had hoped that he wouldn't have had to even talk about Tantiss again but here he is. They run through corridor after corridor simply taking out whatever stormtroopers they come across, they can’t afford anything going wrong. 

“We have to find Echo!” Crosshair calls to Hunter and Wrecker as they keep up their search. They had gone completely com silent so they have no idea where the reg could be. 

Emeri had led Echo to the vault. Despite her warning him, he’s shocked at the conditions the children are being held in. 

They walk in together and another female doctor walks up to Emeri looking at her with thinly veiled disdain 

“Doctor Karr you are aware that stormtroopers aren't allowed in the vault with the specimens. I shall have to report this to Dr. Hem-,” 

Before she can finish her sentence Echo is astounded when Emeri pulls her arm back and knocks out the other doctor in one hit. 

“I guess you really are a clone!” He comments as she uses the incapacitated doctor’s datapad to turn off all the security measures. 

Omega, seeing Emeri take action, immediately jumps on top of the medical droid and reprograms it telling it to shut down. She then jumps off and rejoins the other children moving to stand between them and the man in a stormtrooper uniform in front of her. 

Echo sees Omega standing in front of four other children as if she's guarding them. She’s watching him suspiciously and he realizes he’s forgotten to take off his helmet. 

“Echo!” Omega almost sobs before throwing herself in his arms. When he wraps his arms around her, Omega notices he has two hands holding her. When he lets go she grabs his robotic hand and twists and turns it trying to get a better look at it.

“This is new,” Omega comments and starts to ask but Echo just shrugs. 

“It grew back on its own,” Echo says with a straight face making Omega arch her eyebrow at him. 

“Suuuure” Omega says, rolling her eyes and grinning at him. She turns to Emeri,

 “So you finally decided you wanted to help us?” 

Emeri looks down at the floor frowning and then back up at Omega

 “I- I am a clone like you. I realize my actions have been counter to what I should have been doing, but I swear I’m ready to do better” Omega smiles at her and gives her a quick hug, shocking Emeri

 “I have…never gotten one of those before.”

“Better get used to it” Echo quips, turning to the rest of the kids in the vault. 

“…Hello. Are you guys ready to get out of here?” 

The kids look at each other and nod apprehensively. The Pantoran girl holding the baby moves closer behind the green boy, hiding. 

“We’re just kids, how are we supposed to help get us out?” she asks in a quiet voice. She's scared, they all are. Echo can see clearly. He remembers a similar situation on Kamino; while these kids weren’t soldiers, they still had something about them. Echo just had to make them see that.

Echo kneels down to see eye to eye with the kids.

“You guys are here because there’s something special about you right? Even the Imps could see it. They needed you for a reason, just like right now I need you to be brave. I need you to have courage. Be strong. You have the hearts of clones and the strength of the Jedi. Whatever it is that makes you special was in their blood and is in your blood. It’s in Omega’s blood, which I'd say is close enough to make you honorary clones. You aren’t some helpless children, you are strong and have heart! Now we need to get out of here!”

Echo starts to herd all of the kids plus Emeri to the doorway to get them out of there. 

“Wait!” Omega stops Echo. “I know a way we can get out of here. I have a distraction planned.” 

”Do you?” 

“Uh huh. The Zillo beast that they have in one of the containment areas, we can free it and let that distract the rest of the base.”

Echo just stands there for a moment and grins “You know, you remind me so much of someone that it almost scares me. He came up with these hair-brained schemes all the time too”

Omega stands up just a little straighter. “He sounds like fun”

“He was.” 

Echo turns to Emeri “You take the kids to the hangar and wait for us there.”

“Ok I’ll try. Come along, we have to hurry!” 

They run out of the vault together before Emeri points Echo and Omega in the right direction to go before urging the children to walk faster in the other direction.

As they run to the Zillo beast enclosure, Omega can't help but ask,”Where are the others?” She fears the worst but is relieved when Echo slows, “They are here…somewhere. We've gone com silent since we got here,” Omega nods at this, understanding the need to be untraceable. They fall into silence as they run through hallway after hallway with no interruptions. 

“After this…I want to be done. I want to find somewhere even more remote than Pabu and just stay there. Maybe we can find wherever Cut and Suu went! You and Rex can even join us. I'm sure Hunter wouldn’t mind,” Omega says to break the silence.

“...Omega, We-” 

“You have your mission, I know. I just want us to all be together again.” 

“Rex and I won't be done until all our brothers are free. If I'm honest even after that I don't know if I'll stop fighting for what I feel is right. There are the makings of a larger rebellion against the Empire, maybe I'll join them. I’m a soldier, ’Mega, it’s what I’m made for.”

“Yeah, but…” 

“Listen, after we get you out of here we can talk more about it but we need to find the beast and your brothers first.” 

Crosshair, Hunter, and Wrecker knew that they needed to find Omega then Echo, and fast. They run through the hallways and corridors turning corners and shooting the stormtroopers with barely a second glance. “Nothing from Echo?” Crosshair asks yet again. “Nothing!” Hunter answers as the men keep running, finding fewer troopers as they get deeper into Tantiss. Echo guides Omega through the halls keeping his new hand on her shoulder, his real hand holding his blaster. 

Crosshair is starting to panic. Omega is nowhere to be found and Echo hasn't checked in yet. He must have gotten off the ship and be somewhere in the facility. 

Omega and Echo are running towards a corner.

Crosshair comes to a T in the hallway 

They turn the corner. 

Crosshair sees a stormtrooper with a blaster in one hand and Omega grasped by the shoulder in the other.

Crosshair acts on instinct and doeswhat he had been doing the whole time they were running through Tantiss. 

His sister is in danger again. This time he wouldn’t fail her. 

His aim is sure and his hand steady as he immediately raises his rifle. 

The stormtrooper raises his hands as if to try and stop him but Crosshair has had enough, he briefly notices the strange stiffness of the trooper’s right hand but his mind is moving too fast to stop on that thought. 

He just wants to get Omega, find Echo, and get back to Pabu

He wants to leave Tantiss and blow the place to the Maker.

All these thoughts run through his head in a split second. 

Crosshair does what he does best: he shoots.

And this time. He doesn’t miss.

Hitting Echo in the chest. Directly over his heart. 

Crosshair watches the stormtrooper collapse. 

Omega screams and pushes Crosshair away when he runs to grab her.

He doesn't understand.

Until she takes off the stormtrooper’s helmet.

Crosshair can only watch in horror as Echo’s face is revealed. Somehow he is even paler than before. He lies on the ground and Omega puts her hand over his wound desperately trying to help.

All three clones rip their helmets off, dropping them to the ground. 

When Crosshair tries to step forward to try to help, Omega yells at him to just stay back. She sits on the ground beside Echo, he’s practically in her lap

Just this once Crosshair wishes that his hands had shaken.

The one time he wished he could have…Crosshair didn’t miss.

Echo knows he isn't going to make it. 

He can’t help but chuckle to himself over the way that this had occurred. It sounded all too familiar to what Rex had told him so long ago on Anaxes after he had been brought back. 

Rex walks into the room where Echo is getting a final look over by Kix and the other medics. Echo looks up at his captain, his brother. “Finally decided to tell me huh?” Rex can only nod and raises his hand to the back of his neck, his nerves all over the place. “Echo listen, I-,” Echo puts his hand up stopping him. “I know. You can tell me how but it won’t make a difference. He’s gone. He would've been here if he wasn’t. Just, just tell me he went down fighting,” Rex grimaces and brings his hand down putting it on his shoulder. He makes eye contact with Kix who moves to clear everyone else out of the room before leaving himself. “You know Fives, was there any other way?” Rex and Echo chuckle remembering Fives’ personality. “Tell me Rex…” Echo says seriously after a moment. Rex sighs but moves to sit next to Echo on the bed. “In the end…Fives didn’t die on the battlefield. I’m sorry Echo, but he was killed by a brother. By Fox. At the time we had no idea about the chips, but somehow Fives found out. We- I didn't believe him, I was there when it happened and he- well he died in my arms,” Rex says this without looking at Echo. When he finally does he sees Echo’s face not filled with anger as he suspected, but with sorrow? Even a bit of pity. “It isn't your fault Rex. You had no way of knowing, not even the Jedi knew and they were supposed to know everything.” Rex had looked at him and nodded. Echo had wanted to say more but couldn't, internally reeling about how Fives had been killed by a brother, and how he had died assuming he was the last domino to fall. 

Returning to the present, Echo’s eyes focus back on Omega and her hand on his chest. Once again reminding him of another blond clone who had left their handprint on his chest. 

Echo’s eyes move across the room and land on Crosshair, who can’t even look at him. “Hey Cross… I’d say that intel earned your hug.” And suddenly all the men are surrounding Echo and Omega. Crosshair has his hand on Echo’s scomp. He leans over and puts his forehead to Echo’s and whispers “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be, I would've done the same thing,” Echo says firmly and hopes that Crosshair believes him.

Crosshair can’t look at Echo as he stands up and turns away from him, wiping his hand across his eyes. Erasing the tears that Crosshair would refuse to say came. Hunter and Wrecker can’t even say anything. It’s Eriadu all over again. This time they are in a medical facility without their medic, and they can’t do anything to save Echo. Both take their turn to say goodbye and to put their own foreheads to Echo’s as the tears stream down both their faces. They’d gotten so used to crying around each other they barely even noticed it anymore. Unlike Crosshair who was still hiding his face.

Omega looks up just above where Echo is lying. Tears streaming down her face she swears she feels a familiar presence, one she had felt years ago as a young child back on Kamino. She looks back down at Echo who is looking at the same spot, a slight smile on his face. 

“Took you long enough you Di’kut,” Echo chuckles wincing. “You know, Fives, I never thought I'd be the last Domino to fall. Can’t say I’m glad for it.” 

Omega is the only one to hear this. Her other brothers stay back knowing that there is nothing they can do. She looks at them, scared, “Who is Fives?” The men all freeze. They all feel their stomachs drop. She looks back down towards Echo who is already watching her. The rise and fall of his chest is slowing. “Vod’ika, I-I’m… I don't want to go but, My brothers, they’re here. Fives, Rose, Hevy, Cutup, Droidbait, 99... They say I can march with them.” Echo’s eyes are glistening, unfocused. He wants to go with them but he has so much to do here. Omega can see his struggle and pushes her feelings away. 

“It’s ok Echo. You are done fighting, you can march with them.  We will be ok.” Omega’s eyes are full of tears but she doesn’t let them fall. She lays her head on Echo’s chest holding his hand in one of hers and putting the other hand on his chestplate. Feeling as his breaths grow shallow, his heartbeat slows and eventually fades away. Echo’s hand slowly lets go of Omega’s but grabs onto his twin’s. Echo barely notices the lack of metal weighing him down as Fives helps him up, grinning as he pulls Echo into a hug before he turns and leads Echo away with an arm around his neck. 

Omega looks up at Echo’s face. She doesn't think she ever saw him look this peaceful before.

The final domino. Fallen. But rising to join his brothers as they march on to forever.

[cleighwrites]

🍾☃️ Sastiel

Thanks for playing!! I apologize in advance...

SPN Fanfic

Characters - Sam Winchester x Cas (former snowman)

Summary - Sam discovers the magic of Christmas when he puts a scarf on a snowman who’s brought to life.

Word Count - 1930

A/N - This one got WAY away from me, obviously! It’s very loosely inspired by a new Netflix movie called Hot Frosty. I took several liberties with the plot to make it more drabble-friendly, and still ended up writing a ficlet! 

Warning - Christmas Magic

Sam was on his way home from working a double when the sweet older couple that ran the hardware store across the street waved him over. He was tired, but they gave him a good discount on supplies and were sweet, so Sam did as he was bade and crossed the treacherously icy street to greet them. 

“Hello, Sam, it’s good to see you!” cheered Belinda. 

“Hey, Belinda, Steve,” Sam nodded to her husband as he sorted through some nuts in a box. 

“I have something for you,” Belinda said, reaching under the counter. She pulled out a bright red scarf. It looked soft and cozy, definitely not Sam’s style. 

“Oh, Belinda, I can’t. It’s not even Christmas yet,” Sam tried to reason. 

“Nonsense. I’ve been working on this for you for the past week. Every day I see you walk by and you’re barely covered up. I made it myself, you know. Just for you.”

Well damn. Sam couldn’t argue with that. Begrudgingly he held out his hand and she placed the scarf gently into his palm. It was just as soft as it looked; a harsh contrast to his well-worn hands. 

“Ever since that Brady left you for the big city, I’ve been worried about you.” 

“Belinda…” Sam started. 

“He was no good. And I hope you can get over him and find yourself someone who’s going to take care of you!” 

“I’m too busy with work to find anyone, Belinda, but thank you. Y’all have a good evening!” 

As he walked down the street, it began to snow. Sam cursed, rolled his eyes, and put the scarf around his neck. It cut the cold that made its way down his jacket, maybe it wasn’t such a bad addition to his wardrobe. About halfway back to his place, Sam came upon the town's snowman-building displays. There were all sorts of snow creatures, but the one that caught his eye was one that looked like it was a Roman marble statue. 

It looked as though a man was coming up from the snow mound, only halfway finished, but with incredible detail. It almost looked as if the man were looking right into his soul. Sam stood and stared for a while, admiring the slight curl of the man’s hair and the swell of his muscles. If only he were real, Sam thought. 

“Here, buddy, you’re looking a little cold,” Sam said, wrapping the scarf around the snowman’s neck. “I hope it brings you some warmth,” he added, then laughed at himself talking to a snowman. 

He considered Frosty one more time, then turned and made his way back home. 

The next morning, the whole town was abuzz with excitement. Everyone was standing on the street in little groups talking in not-so-hushed whispers about something that had happened the night before. From what Sam could glean in passing, a man had gone streaking down Main Street and then broken into the thrift shop. Seeing as nothing ever happened in their small town, there was no consideration that those two incidents might not be connected. 

Sam shrugged it off and decided to let the authorities do their job. It was none of his business anyway. He was doing some work on Old Man Charles’s deck when he heard a deep, gravelly voice call out from behind him. 

“It’s you!” the man said. 

Sam turned around to see a tall, dark-haired man standing on the sidewalk wearing nothing but a pair of coveralls and a slightly familiar-looking scarf. He’d definitely remember meeting this man if he had. 

“Hello,” Sam said, slightly taken aback by the familiarity in the man’s voice. 

“It’s you,” the man repeated. 

Sam stood, took off his work gloves, and walked over to the man, intrigued and concerned, maybe he’d hit his head and needed assistance. He had bright blue eyes that shone like icicles in the sun.

“I’m Sam,” he said, holding his hand out for the man to shake. 

The man looked at his hand and tilted his head to the side. Then he looked back up at Sam’s face. “Hello, Sam.”

Sam squinted his eyebrows and smiled a little. He was an odd man. 

“Do I know you?” Sam asked, unable to control himself. The man looked awfully familiar, in an indistinct kind of way. 

“I don’t know,” the man said, not taking his eyes away from Sam’s. 

Sam was getting flustered, no one made eye contact like that anymore. “Um, what do you know?”

“I know that you’re the first thing I saw and that you gave me this,” the man presented the end of the scarf. 

There was no way. That was the same scarf Sam had put on the snowman the night before. Sam was too old to believe in Christmas miracles, there was no such thing as magic, but here was this man before him with no memories before Sam putting that scarf on him. This had to be some sort of prank. Had Belinda and Steve seen him give the scarf up and found some hot man to set him up with? Was this an elaborate blind date? 

Just then, Belinda and Steve walked by. “Good morning, Sam! Who’s your friend?” Innuendo was thick in her tone and Sam knew where this was going. 

“This is, um, sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Sam said to the man. 

“Oh, I don’t have one.” 

“Your uniform says Cas, could that be your name?” Sam offered. 

The man thought about it for a moment and nodded. “I like Cas.”

Belinda looked concerned for a moment. “What’s going on?” 

“Oh, Cas doesn’t remember anything before last night,” Sam started.

“Sam gave me this scarf and I came to life!” Cas added. 

Sam rubbed his temple.”Cas, that’s-”

“A Christmas miracle!” Belinda finished. “Sam, isn’t that the scarf I gave you?”

“Yes…” Sam hedged. 

“And didn’t the Miller’s say there was a snowman missing from the display this morning?” She asked Steve.

“Yes, they did mention that,” he answered.

“Sam, did you happen to make some sort of wish when you put it on Cas here?”

Sam thought back to the night before, the conversation he’d had with Belinda, then the hope he’d felt as he wrapped the scarf around the snowman’s neck. 

“I mean, maybe, but that doesn’t mean that he’s actually a snowman brought to life!” Sam was going to lose his mind. 

Sam decided to take the man in until he recovered his memories. He’d leave him with directions to watch the TV and not burn the house down. Cas adamantly professed that he was not a fan of fire and that it was too hot in Sam’s house. He much preferred the partially finished basement, which didn’t have any heat running to it yet, which was almost freezing. 

After a couple of days, Cas said that he’d like to help Sam work, so that he didn’t have to do it all by himself. Sam reluctantly agreed, but it turned out that Cas was a remarkably quick study. Sam started to grow attached to Cas’s innocent charm and quirky way of looking at the world. He’d never met anyone like him before. 

Belinda invited them to a Christmas party, which Cas was very excited to go to. He liked meeting new people, even if he was awkward about it. Sam dressed him in one of his brother’s suits he’d left behind and a blue tie that went well with his eyes, and although Cas said he wasn’t cold outside, Sam put him in an old trench coat he’d gotten from the thrift store. It was lightweight enough that Cas didn’t immediately start sweating, so Sam called it a win. 

At the party, Belinda was all too happy to introduce Cas as Sam’s friend to everyone in attendance. They all gave him a knowing, approving look. Sam couldn’t deny that he was starting to feel more than just physically attracted to Cas, but the guy didn’t know who he was, it wouldn’t be right to start anything with him when he could get his real memories back at any time. 

There were lots of people in the house, and the heat was blasting, so Cas started to sweat profusely. He was having such a good time with everyone that he brushed off Sam’s insistence that he step outside for some fresh air. Sam convinced him to sit in the kitchen away from the fireplace in the living room. Maybe there was something to this snowman thing. 

Cas was wilting and melting in front of his eyes. When Cas began to sink in his chair and stopped responding when Sam asked him if he was okay, Sam grabbed him under the arms and dragged him outside. He laid him on the snowbank on the curb and waited for him to come to, hopeful that the snow would cool him off enough. 

After a few moments, Sam began to panic. There was still so much Sam wanted to introduce Cas to, so much he’d wanted to experience for the first time with him. He wished that he’d gotten to meet Dean. Then it struck him, he’d fallen for Cas in just a few short days. 

“Kiss him,” Belinda said from behind him, surprising him.

“What good will that do now, we need to get him to a doctor!” 

“True love’s kiss, Sam. This isn’t a time for doctors. This is Christmas magic!” 

Sam didn’t waste any time. Not that he believed in Christmas magic, but the quicker he could get help to get Cas to a doctor, the better. Sam knelt in the snow beside this quirky man he’d fallen for and pressed his lips to Cas’s. They were cold, but still plush and soft. 

Having proven that a kiss wasn’t what Cas needed, Sam turned to Belinda to demand that she go get Steve to help Sam carry Cas to the car. He was about to start barking orders when Belinda’s hand flew to cover her mouth in shock. Sam turned to see what was the matter when he saw Cas standing right behind him. 

“Cas?” Sam asked, astounded. 

Cas smiled a small smile. “Hello, Sam.”

“Cas!” Sam exclaimed, then threw his arms around him. He felt warm and solid and- “Wait, Cas, you’re so warm…”

“Am I? I do feel like I should be melting, only I’m not. In fact, I feel… shivery.”

Sam blinked away the surprise in his eyes and smiled wider. “You’re cold. Come on, let’s get you inside!”

“Wait, there’s something I want to try first,” Cas said.

He grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him closer to him. He looked directly into Sam’s eyes, then closed his, leaned forward, and pressed their lips together. Sam responded in kind, holding on to Cas as they kissed. Under the pressure of their lips, Sam could swear he could feel Cas heating up. 

“Aww!” Belinda said behind Sam. “This calls for champagne. Come back in boys before you turn into snowmen!” 

Cas smiled so wide they had to stop kissing, and Sam chuckled, then shivered. Cas took the bright red scarf from around his neck and wrapped it around Sam’s. 

“There, you look like you’re freezing.”

“Cas, you’ve never taken this off!”

“I think the magic has done its work, I don’t need it anymore.”

As they walked into the house, Sam heard the tell-tale pop of champagne being uncorked and the screams of several standers-by. With Cas’s hand in his, as they walked into the house, he certainly felt like celebrating. 

[summersnow82]

Intervention

Fanfiction_Angel

Fictober 2024_Prompt 21: “We’ve done worse.”

Summary: A little ficlet that takes place during “Billy” (S3:E6) featuring my OCs.

Author’s note: I’ve had this idea pitching back and forth in my head for awhile now, and I’ve even written a draft or two. Still, I never knew how to finish it; this prompt gave me the idea. Featuring my two favorite original characters, Annabelle and Sean. For those who haven’t seen the episode, Wes, Gunn, and any other man who comes into contact with a man named Billy are infected. They become cruel, and seek to brutalize any woman in their path.

.....

“You.” He said it with a sneer, like she was an inconvenience, a nuisance.

“Me.” Annabelle eyed the ex-Watcher carefully, stepping fully into the hallway to block his path, and separate him from Fred. Just for a few minutes, just to give her time, Annabelle thought.

The Wesley in front of her was not the Wesley she knew, and it certainly wasn’t the man she had fallen in love with, and tragically been forced to leave at the altar. This Wesley was arrogant, snide, hateful, and cruel. This Wesley would say terrible things her Wesley would never dare utter.

This Wesley was the one she had been looking for.

There was a rage pulsating through him now, and Annabelle knew she’d have to be careful not to hurt him. “You’re in the way,” he announced, his voice low and cold as he began walking towards her.

“I get that a lot,” she said, shrugging, bracing herself for his coming onslaught.

“You should run.” Closer now, more menacing.

“Here we go,” Annabelle whispered to herself, moving into a defensive position. Wesley was a better fighter than he realized – stronger, too. Despite what she was here to do, Annabelle didn’t want to hurt him, but she also wasn’t willing to let him hurt her. She knew this man had no compassion, no moral ground, and after what she’d done to him… well, that was just fuel to his fire.

Dodging his attacks at first were simple, but eventually she was forced to push him back. She landed a solid kick to his stomach, but even she knew the right amount of force wasn’t behind it. She’d hurt Wesley enough, and even in his current state she was struggling.

Fred. Do it for Fred. Buy her the time.

There was no familiarity in Wesley’s eyes when he looked up at her from the spot where he was kneeling on the floor. No love, just hate. “Stay down, Wes,” she warned, and he smirked.

“You think you can tell me what to do? After what you did?” Annabelle took a sobering breath. This isn’t him, this isn’t him. “You spun me along, made me want you, made me need you, made me WAIT!” He shouted the last word, and she couldn’t help but wince. He rose to his feet, cocking his head to the side as he eyed her. “You’re nothing but a worthless tease desperate to be the center of my attention.” He smirked. “That’s why you keep coming back. That’s why you’re here now. That,” he took a step towards her, “is why you’re standing between me and her.” Her. He couldn’t say her name either. A slow smile slid over his handsome features, but it was anything but sincere. “I guess I’ll just have to kill you both.”

-------------------------

Sean watched Fred leave Wesley’s apartment, heard him start to cry. He hated it for Wes; he was a good man. Sean had been thrilled when Annabelle told him Wesley had proposed. Now, he grimaced at the thought. If he could’ve had his way, Annabelle and Wesley would be married now, happy and peaceful. But some things you can’t control; better to focus on what you can.

Sean pushed off the wall, rounding the corner once he was sure Fred was gone, and knocked on Wesley’s apartment door. “It’s me, Wes,” he called before adding, “I’m alone.”

Sean had never seen Wesley look so distraught – even on his wedding day – and Sean couldn’t fault him for it. Wesley had been a victim and an abuser all in one night, and living with the ramifications would be difficult. Sean knew Wesley would eventually move past it – what other choice did he have? - but it would always be a night he hated, and something he regretted.

That’s why he’d asked Annabelle and Sean to intervene if they ever had the opportunity. That’s why Annabelle had been so adamant about going in alone last night. That’s why she was in her current condition.

Sean should’ve been inside the hotel with Annabelle that night, but he knew the risk of infection. Annabelle agreed it would be better for him to play lookout, and let her know when things started falling apart. She’d been in the building the moment Angel left, staking out the area, and choosing the perfect spot to wait.

A spot Fred wouldn’t notice. A spot where she could easily intercept Wesley, or even Gunn, if needed.

“She’s not here, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Sean assured him as Wesley cast a glance to the empty hallway. They both knew he was talking about Annabelle. Wesley held open the door for Sean to enter, and closed it softly behind him.

“What’re you doing here, Sean?” He asked softly, averting his eyes as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

“Came to say good-bye. Thought you could use a friendly ear before I left.” Sean rocked back on his heels, thrusting his hands into his jean pockets. He’d always liked Wesley; too bad their relationship was strained because of forces neither could control.

“I’m fine, thank you. Please thank Annabelle for her assistance that evening. I…,” he paused, voice cracking. “I was not myself.”

Sean arched a brow. “You’re not even going to ask what she was doing there?”

Wesley raised his eyes, and despite all the pain Sean could see a hard glimmer of defiance. “No,” he replied firmly.

Sean chewed his lip for a moment, nodding slowly. The temptation to tell Wesley the truth – the whole truth – was overwhelming, but he would restrain himself. “You’re a good man, Wes. I hope you know that.” Wesley averted his eyes once more, shaking his head briefly.

“I’m not so sure anymore.” His voice was soft, quiet, and so, so sad. Sean couldn’t leave him like this. He stepped forward, placing a strong hand on one of Wesley’s shoulders, and maneuvered his head so he could look him in the eye.

“You’re a victim in all this, Wes. Just like Fred. I know what this kind of monster looks like, and you…,” he shook his head. “You’re not one of them. You need to know that.”

Wesley clenched his jaw, nodding, although he didn’t look fully convinced. “Did I hurt her?” He whispered, and Sean could tell he was trying not to cry.

Sean bit his lip, and lied. “No. No, she’s just fine, Wes. You don’t have to worry about her.”

The lie, in the end, seemed to be justifiable. Wesley’s eyes lightened just a touch; his face shifted a tiny bit as if the guilt he was bearing was suddenly a bit lighter. “Thank you, Sean.”

The blonde nodded. “I’ll see myself out. Take care of yourself, Wes.”

------------------------------------

Annabelle arched her back, pushing off the building she was leaning against, and easily fell into step with Sean as he rounded the corner. “How’d it go?” She asked, her hands thrust deep into the bomber jacket’s pockets.

Sean shrugged. “As well as could be expected, I suppose.” He cast his eyes over to her, taking in the dark shade of a bruise on her left cheek. “How’re your knuckles?” He asked, turning his eyes back to the path in front of them.

“Busted,” she replied.

“Cheek?”

“Sore.”

“Ego?”

She stopped walking, and turned to look at him. “After what I did,” she began.

“Forced to do,” he corrected, and she rolled her eyes.

“I still did it, Sean. He can call me whatever he likes if it makes him feel better.”

“He asked after you,” Sean replied, and she snorted.

“Liar.”

“He did. He was worried he’d hurt you.”

Annabelle clenched her jaw, and looked away for a moment. “And you said?”

“I lied.” He gave her a small smile, and she returned it.

“Well,” she said, “We’ve done worse.”

[tuulikannel]

There was that reverse trope writing prompts thing I shared a little ago. The first one of them was "too many beds" and I started to wonder how to make a story out of that. It'd hardly be a problem to have more beds than necessary... right?

And then this happened.

(A little AssClass ficlet, starring Gakushuu and Karma.)

The Third Bed

Gakushuu sighed, placing down his bag. “It just figures, doesn’t it.”

“Hey, it could be worse!” Karma grinned at him. “If we were in some stupid romantic comedy, they would have had only a single room free, and we’d have to share a bed. Now we’ve got our pick!”

Gakushuu and Karma had travelled to Hokkaido to take part in a week-long math convention and competition, as the representatives of Kunugigaoka high. Unfortunately there had been a mess up with their hotel reservation, and their rooms had been given to others. As it turned out, the only free room was one with three beds, which they would have to share.

“True enough, I guess,” Gakushuu said. Oh well, maybe this wasn’t that bad. He would have preferred to have the peace of a room of his own, but perhaps he’d survive one week sharing a room with Akabane Karma.

Perhaps.

“Would you stop that?” he told the redhead who was moving from bed to bed, bouncing on all of them.

“I need to check them out!” Bounce. “How else can find out which one’s the best?” Bounce.

“They’re all the same! Just pick one, I don’t care. And let the third one be, we’re not supposed to use it.”

“Okay, okay. This is mine, then!” Karma threw his bag on one of the beds. “Hey, how about going sightseeing?”

“I need to practice…”

“The hell you do, you know everything. C’mon!”

Still grumbling, Gakushuu allowed himself to be dragged out of the hotel.

Next morning he woke up early in order to finish those preparations a certain redhead had kept him from the day before. Getting up he frowned as his eyes fell on the third bed.

“Karma!” he barked out. The red hair peeking from underneath a blanket twitched a little. “Karma, why have you used the third bed?”

“Wha…?” Sleepy eyes looked at him from underneath the blanket. “What?”

“The extra bed! Did you really have to test it again? You know we’re not supposed to use it!”

“What?” The redhead drew the blanket over himself, disappearing completely. “I’ve not, I’ve been slee-ahh,” a yawn, “…ping the whole night in my bed right here.”

Gakushuu glared at the lump in the bed, hands on his hips. “Then who has used it?”

The lump moved a little, maybe shrugging. “Dunno. Maybe you’re sleepwalking?”

Realizing Karma wasn’t going to confess, Gakushuu inspected the third bed carefully, hoping to find some red hair there. When that failed, he made it, still grumbling to himself.

Next morning, déjà-vu. “Karma!” Gakushuu exclaimed, exasperated, seeing the messed up bed.

“What?!” The redhead sat up on his bed, returning his glare. Gakushuu pointed at the bed and Karma fell back down on his, groaning. “I don’t know what game you’re playing here, but no! You’re not pinning that on me. Besides, it’s just a bed that someone’s used! They’ll probably anyway change the sheets once we go, so what does it matter?”

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this! It’s such a pointless—”

“I am not doing it!” Karma shouted. “Now shut up, I’m still going to sleep at least a couple of hours. In my own bed where I’ve stayed the entire night!”

Gakushuu bit his lip. True, it wasn’t any big deal. Still, he couldn’t understand why Karma would do something like this. As a prank, it was simply stupid.

Maybe Karma was the one sleepwalking?

Next night, Gakushuu set up a secret camera to film the third bed. This way he could show Karma who the true culprit was, and the redhead would not be able to deny it anymore.

In the morning when he woke he saw – this time to his satisfaction – that the bed had been used, once more. Very quietly he went to get the camera and started to fast-forward through the footage.

They were both staying in their beds quite peacefully late into the night. Then, suddenly, a figure appeared next to the third bed. Gakushuu gave a start, paused, and ran the recording back.

What?

He could still see himself and Karma sleeping in their own beds. But there appeared, out of nowhere, a third figure in the room… possibly a woman with long dark hair, dressed in white. She was climbing into the third bed.

As Gakushuu stared at the recording, his breath caught in his throat, the figure rolled over in the bed and looked up, straight into the camera, for the first time revealing its face. One impossibly wide eye stared straight into his from underneath long black bangs. The woman(?!?) opened her mouth, there was a glimpse of sharp teeth, a long tongue…

Gakushuu screamed. The camera dropped from his hands and he kicked at it, flinging it to the other end of the room.

“What?!” Karma bounced up on his bed. “What’s happening?”

Gakushuu didn’t pause to exclaim. He had already grasped his bag and was stuffing everything into it – his things, Karma’s, all the same. Just pack.

“We’re going!” he shouted at Karma. “Get up!”

“What?” the redhead repeated, frowning. “Hey, what’s wrong…?”

Gakushuu threw their bags out of the room and grasped Karma, dragging him out of bed. “Start moving!”

“What? Hey!” Karma attempted to object as he was being shoved out of the room. “Hey, I’m not even dressed! What are you…”

“We’re not going back into that room ever again!” Gakushuu pushed Karma’s clothes to him. “There’s a toilet down the corridor, you can change there!”

“What?” Still utterly confused, the redhead just stood there, his clothes in his hands. Gakushuu started pushing him away from the room. “But… where are we going…?”

“I don’t know! Away!”

“But this was the only free room…. And the other hotels are booked too! We can’t just…!”

“We’ll buy a tent and go camping! Now move!”

“But…!”

Gakushuu didn’t listen. Somehow he got Karma dressed and out of the hotel and what then happened I don’t know. Maybe Karma wanted to see that recording too, once Shuu calmed down enough to tell him about it. And maybe they’re both now cursed after seeing it? Maybe they do go camping, but there’ll be a third person sleeping with them there too...

[furashuban]

Here With You

(submitting this super last minute before the next prompt starts because I fell asleep and lost time to polish and post beforehand)

Here's a little ficlet for @sketchbookweek Day 6: Library / Artist! And just like my last fic, it's another story set in my AU where they are childhood friends :>

Words: 480

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51823186

Summary: Johanna spends the day keeping Kaisa company at the library before she leaves for training.

Between the towering bookshelves were two girls sitting quietly across one another. Johanna scribbled along a sheet paper on her side of the bench; next to her were a pile of colored-pencils and sketches she had drawn some time ago. On the other side, Kaisa was facing down on the endless writings of her book.

“I can’t believe you have to read all that for just one lesson,” Johanna regarded the stacks of other books surrounding Kaisa, resting her chin on her palm, “and on a Saturday no less.”

“I don’t mind it really,” Kaisa shrugged, “but…are you sure you’re okay staying with me until I meet with Tildy? I have to concentrate on reading until it’s time to leave, I’m afraid,” she looked up from her book.

“Of course, I am!” Johanna beamed, “It’s no fun being home all day, I’m happy to sit around if I’m here with you, Kaisa,” the witch felt her heart flutter at that; smiling back warmly. “Take as long as you need, I’ll be finishing this drawing I want to give you before you leave for witch training.”

The girls stayed for hours, but neither felt the time passing by; the turning of a page as Kaisa continued reading and the quickened pace of Johanna’s pencil as she shaded her drawing broke the silence minutes at a time.

“I need to go now, Johanna—” Kaisa trailed off, looking up to realize Johanna was hunched over and had fallen asleep. She noticed her drawing for the young witch was beneath her palm; curious as she was, she gently pulled it out to have a better look at it. Johanna drew her best friend exactly where she was on the bench, but rather than reading her book staring down, she held her wand high and proudly whilst her book levitated in front of her while other books from her stacks were also ascending around the witch. On the top corner simply read “For Kaisa” with a heart sketched beside the writing. Kaisa’s glee was inebriating, it was the first time she had seen herself drawn, and knowing it was from her best friend who practically made drawings every day, she loved it beyond words could put it.

When the young witch returned her books to the shelves, she borrowed a purple colored-pencil and a sheet of paper to write on.

Thanks for the art. It looks amazing! I will cherish it always! -Kaisa

Below the note was Kaisa’s own art, a simple drawing of her face with the shape of her hair, dotted eyes and a grin. She placed it under Johanna’s palm, and before rushing off to attend another afternoon of training, she leaned over to wrap her arms around her best friend’s shoulders as she napped, wishing she did not have to leave and could sit around longer until she wakes up.

[sashaforthewin]

Here, have a lil chunk of one of my hundreds of Stranger Things WIP ficlets I've been writing to avoid writing a long WIP...

-----

Eddie's not an idiot. Well, he's kind of an idiot, but he has basic pattern recognition skills, he can put two and two together. He knows the sudden and steadily increasing audience at the Hideout corresponds with Steve Harrington starting to come to their shows.

And if he needed a control to test his hypothesis, Steve was home sick tonight. Some of the audience had ditched before the set started, but most gave it a few songs to see if he would show before heading out. Corroded Coffin's fourth song was played to an empty room besides the regulars at the bar. Let me tell you, nothing knocks your ego back down to the ground floor like playing to the backs of three old bikers, two of which are named Carl, and one construction worker covered in brick dust. Even the bartender had turned on a little radio behind the bar and had some sort of sports announcer playing.

But, crowd or no crowd, they kept playing because practice is practice, no matter where or when you're playing. Eddie tried not to notice that there was zero acknowledgment when they finished besides the bartender turning up the radio. At least they could still pad out their pockets with their cut of the cover charge, since people still paid to get in initially, even if they skedaddled. It wasn't much but they could afford to go to the diner and still have a bit left over, so they did. 

Once they were sat at the corner booth with greasy plates of various breakfast foods in front of them, Gareth cleared his throat and tapped his coffee mug with a knife to get everyone's attention. It wasn't hard, they were all a bit down from the show, so they were not as loud as usual. 

"Okay, I think it's time to discuss a major restructuring of the band."

This got Eddie's attention. He knew something needed to change but he didn't think anyone else thought so.

"Eddie, is Steve Harrington musical at all? Can he sing or play any instruments?"

"What? Oh, huh, I actually don't know… He has shit taste in music, he likes dance pop, but I don't actually know if he can play or sing."

"Okay, well, find out. I'm not above putting him behind a keyboard and having it turned off. I think if we can get him shirtless we might even start selling out shows. Don't look at me like that, guys, we know people only come to our shows to ogle Harrington and try to shoot their shot with him whenever Robin leaves his side long enough. Think about how many people would actually start to pay attention to our music if they think it's coming from him! I know it seems shitty to get fans under false pretenses like that, but maybe some of them will start to actually dig the music."

They all sat there thinking and eating, mulling the idea over while they slurped up slimy eggs and crunched on overly buttered toast and burnt hash browns swimming in yellow grease. 

"It's not a terrible idea, it'll get more people to give our music a chance."

"More? It'll get anyone to give our music a chance!"

"One of the Carl's was tapping his foot," Jeff pointed out unhelpfully.

"He's always tapping his foot, dipshit, he's got the shakes."

"Still," he shrugged.

"Yeah, I can ask him," Eddie spoke over the bickering.

"Find out if he can play or sing first and then bring him to practice, maybe we can talk him into joining without outright saying it's for his looks, you know?" Gareth suggested.

"Yeah, fine," Eddie said. If Gareth wanted to try to backseat drive this thing, he could go ahead. Eddie was pretty sure Steve wouldn't want to be the eyecandy figurehead of a death metal band, but he would be glad to be proven wrong and not have to do any of the work to get it. 

And if he hated the idea, it wouldn't reflect badly on Eddie since Gareth was going to be the one to suggest it.

(Maybe there will be more later)

[poppypickle]

Half-Finished Fic Fest

So, like most fic writers, I've amassed a bunch of half-written fic drafts over the years. I didn't post them at the time for various reasons -- because they were unfinished or because I thought they tread too familiar territory or because I just didn't feel like it.

But I've decided to post them in all their half-finished glory because what the hell, why not?

I wrote this Dan/Blair ficlet way back in...2012, maybe? Originally I wanted to have five snippets featuring Henry at various ages to show how the relationship between Dan, Blair, and Henry evolved over the years. It was going to be very sweet! But I only finished this first section, which features a seven-year-old Henry. If you're still carrying a torch for Dair, enjoy!

If I could be anywhere, I'd still be here instead 578 words

“Uncle Dan, I need your help.”

Henry Bass marches into the Humphrey-Van der Woodsen loft, a notebook in his arms. Blair’s heels click clack against the wood floor as she follows, her purposeful gait exactly matching her son’s.

Dan laughs, setting his coffee down on the counter before turning to brew another cup for Blair.

“What can I do for you, kiddo?”

Henry climbs up onto a kitchen counter stool. “I have to do a career report.” He pulls a pencil out from his notebook’s spiral ring and flips the notebook open to a blank page.

“Henry’s teacher has asked the children to interview someone about what they do for a living,” Blair clarifies, setting her purse down on the kitchen counter. “I told him that Uncle Nate was a better choice, but for some reason he’s chosen you, Humphrey.”

Dan pours the coffee into a mug and wordlessly hands it to Blair along with the sugar bowl. “And you didn’t want to ask your parents or Aunt Serena?”

“It can’t be our parents and my mom says ‘influencer’ isn’t a real job,” Henry shrugs.

“Henry! That was a private conversation.” Blair turns to look around the apartment. “Where is Serena anyway?”

“Budapest?” Dan stops to think. “No wait, maybe Bruges?”

Blair rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone. “It’s Budapest,” she confirms, turning the phone to show Dan his wife’s latest Instagram post.

“I picked you because I wanted to, Uncle Dan,” Henry interrupts, his pencil still poised above the paper. “Because I like writing stories too.”

Dan stops and smiles. “That’s amazing. I would love to read one of your stories one day, Henry.”

“Maybe. If you agree to let me interview you for my report,” Henry says, jutting his little hand out expectantly.

Dan laughs. “It’s a deal,” he says, shaking Henry’s hand. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re just like your mom?” Blair rolls her eyes, but hides her smile behind the coffee mug.

“Only everyone,” Henry scoffs. “Okay, enough chit chat. First question: When did you know you wanted to be a writer?”

“When I was eight years old I entered a story contest at the library and won. Then I just kept writing and writing.”

Henry scribbles the answer down, his tongue poking out from between his lips as he concentrates. “Okay, how many books have you written and what was your first book about?”

“Four books, and….” Dan hesitates, then looks at Blair with a question in his eyes.

“His first book was about me,” Blair says matter-of-factly. “I was an early muse,” she continues, leaning over her son’s notebook to watch him carefully write the answer down. “M-u-s-e.”

Henry quirks an eyebrow up. “Really?”

Dan meets Blair’s eyes over Henry’s head. “It was a really long time ago. Before you were even born.”

Henry looks between the two of them for a moment, then shrugs. “Yeah, you guys ARE really old.”

Blair sputters out a cross between a scoff and a gasp, while Dan just laughs heartily.

“Can we get back to my report now?” Henry sighs after a moment. “I have a few more questions.”

“How many?”

“20.”

Dan’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

“I suppose you had better make waffles, Humphrey.” Blair says, setting herself down daintily on the counter stool next to Henry. “Sounds like we’re going to be here awhile.”

Dan smiles and pulls a bowl out from a cabinet. “Blueberry or chocolate chip?”

[star-going-supernova]

Gregory and his mom are homeless. For the past year they’ve been sneaking in and out of the pizzaplex for a chance of full bellies, some “returned” items from Lost & Found, maybe a quick wash in the employee showers when the workers happen to not notice. The day Freddy crashed on stage is the first and likely last time they’re in the building overnight.

This prompt came from Hydrangea_Cherry9 on ao3! This is several hundred words over my self-imposed tumblr ficlet word count, but I knew I’d want to expand it wildly if I even considered posting it as a full ao3 one-shot, lol. So here we are! Warning for character death via non-graphic stabbing.

My Knife’s Bigger than Your Knife

Gregory darted across the hall behind Roxy’s back, slipping silently into the security office. He wiped his damp eyes again before turning to the computer screens. From his pocket, he pulled out the list of instructions that Freddy had written out for him. 

Even as he did his very best to stay focused and alert, he trembled with worry. His brain wouldn’t stop replaying the moment Vanny sank her knife into his mom’s stomach. Vanny’s laughter. The blood. Mom’s scream.

Gregory blew out a shaky breath as he clicked through half a dozen programs and password screens. And when he reached the end of them, he deactivated a program connected to the building’s power. 

Finished with his task, he hastily returned to the doorway and peeked out. The hall was empty, and he wasted no time in sprinting for the stairs that would take him back to Freddy. 

“I got it,” he said breathlessly, climbing into Freddy’s chest cavity. “Is my mom okay?” 

Stupid Fazwatches. Why couldn’t they connect to each other? 

“Your mother has remained conscious and coherent since you last asked me, Gregory,” Freddy said. From anyone else, it probably would’ve sounded condescending or annoyed. But Freddy only sounded gentle and reassuring. “She has reminded me to tell you that you are very brave and she loves you very much.” 

Gregory leaned his head against the inside of Freddy as he set off for their next destination. “Can we go see her after I shut down the next program?” 

He could practically hear Freddy thinking. “Yes,” he decided. “This will be the fourth out of six locations, and my green room is not too far out of the way between the fourth and fifth.” 

“Thanks, Freddy,” Gregory said. “Sorry. I’m just—I’m really worried about her.” 

“I know you are, and I am sorry that you cannot be with her right now, superstar. You should not have been put in this position. Your mother is correct; you are very brave.” 

He shrugged. He was just doing what needed to be done. They needed to get his mom medical help, and they weren’t going to find that in the pizzaplex. Waiting until six was just… they couldn’t afford to wait that long. 

His mom had been stabbed. 

Six locations with the program that controlled the pizzaplex’s security systems. Just six, and he was already halfway done with shutting them down. Then Freddy could lift the barricade manually, and he and his mom could make a run for it. Or, y’know. The closest thing to a run someone stabbed in the stomach could manage. 

• • •

Gregory ran back to Freddy, nearly giddy with success. “I did it, I did it,” he cried quietly, too jittery to accept a ride. 

“The security system is down,” Freddy confirmed happily, setting off at a brisk pace that Gregory had to jog to keep up with. “We will collect your mother and get both of you out soon, superstar.” 

Nodding frantically, Gregory sped up, eager to get back to his mom. They’d had to move her out of Freddy’s green room. Vanny had been getting too close. The backstage storage area connected to the theater was a decent hiding place. It wasn’t deep enough in the basement for the endos to cause her problems, but none of the roaming animatronics or Mom-stabbers seemed to really go back there. 

Unfortunately, Monty was patrolling around the party rooms and the daycare lobby, which was too close for comfort. His mom couldn’t afford to be spotted. 

“Can you lead him away?” Gregory asked, peeking around Freddy’s hip. “I’ll get Mom and you can meet up with us in the theater.” 

Freddy hesitated. “All right,” he agreed. He didn’t sound happy about it. “I have alerted your mother that you are on your way to her. There should not be another member of the band in the area, but be careful.” 

“I will, I will, now let’s go,” he urged. They split up, and Gregory waited impatiently until it was clear for him to sprint all the way to the theater. 

The door to his mom was in sight when Vanny stepped out from around the last corner between him and it, knife in hand. His mom’s blood stained the shiny blade. 

Trying to both stop running and start moving backward was a recipe for disaster, and Gregory tripped over his own feet in his alarm. He landed hard on his butt with a little yelp, and then he didn’t dare move with the way Vanny stood over him. 

She laughed—the same laugh as when she stabbed his mom—and waved her knife at him. “Hello, Gregory,” she said. “I’ve been looking for you. Don’t you want to play?” 

He couldn’t find the strength to respond, utterly paralyzed with fear. Had she found his mom? Is that how she knew to be here, waiting for him? Was his mom—had Vanny… 

He couldn’t even think think the words. 

Vanny didn’t seem to mind his silence because she continued, “I’ve already had fun with your mama, and I always play fair. So now it’s your turn—!” She reached out with her free hand, but her gloved fingers didn’t even get the chance to touch him before she jerked to a stop with a sharp gasp.

Gregory stared at the middle of her torso. At the sword sticking out of it. 

Vanny wobbled, silent, then collapsed heavily to her knees. Gregory jerked into motion and scrambled backwards before she could fall on him with a gurgle, and then he was staring at the other end of the sword. Past the roaring in his ears, he distantly noted that it looked like a pirate’s sort of sword, with the curved blade and the golden handle and guard. 

His wide eyes trailed up from the grip to his mom, who had one hand pressed to her own stomach. Her expression was a terrifying mask of protective fury, and she spit at Vanny’s still form, “Nobody hurts my son on my watch.” She wrenched the sword out.

Gregory had a sudden vision of her tearing one of the animatronics limb from limb. And in that moment, seeing her stand so strong and sure, he believed she could have. 

“Mom,” he whispered. 

The wrath vanished into soft concern, and she stepped around Vanny without a second glance. The sword clattered to the floor, bloody. He scrambled to his feet and was so, so careful when he hugged her. A quiet groan of pain escaped her anyway. 

He pulled back, frantic with worry. “We—we’ve gotta get you outta here, we, we need to go now.” 

She nodded along, brushing his bangs back. “Oh, sweetheart, sweetheart, we will. I am more than ready to leave this place. Are you hurt? Did that—” She swallowed back some pretty nasty names, by the look in her eyes. “Did she hurt you?” 

“Didn’t even touch me,” Gregory promised, leaning his head into her warmth when she cupped his cheek. “Please, you—you’re hurt.” 

“I barely even feel it,” she claimed, like a liar, and when he pulled at her hand to get her to start walking, she followed almost without wincing. 

Freddy, who came into view as she said so, chuckled tightly, in a perfect imitation of that way adults had. “Even so, I must insist I carry you down to the lobby. The stairs will not do you any favors, Hazel.” 

“You aren’t allowed to be on a first name basis with my mom,” Gregory told him.

“Too late, sweetheart,” his mom said, ruffling his hair before allowing Freddy to carefully scoop her up. She tensed up and tried to relax with a strained sigh. “All right, boys. I think it’s time for an ambulance.” 

“It’s past time!” Gregory cried, taking off. And Freddy, to his credit, stayed on his heels the whole way down to the entrance without ever once jostling his mom bad enough to make her groan. 

[onboardsorasora]

do you think you're gonna write some ficlet in the let me adore you verse? i'm gonna miss those guys

ANON OMG HIIIIII THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASKKKKKKK🥹🥹🥹🥹🥰🥰🥰🥰

I love those guys so so so much and I'm happy you love them too. I absolutely will write ficlets for them, they're my first f1rpf babys. And tbh I've wanted to for so long but I didn't want to ruin Teeth!!

Buuuuttt since we're all posted and stuff I can! I've had this coda in my notes for months now lmao. I'd completely forgotten about it. It was literally just dialogue and this ask had be SPRINTING to my Google docs to finish it up! I did it on my phone and it's unedited so I'm so sorry if it like has mistakes and sucks lmao. I hope it doesn't

This is for you Anonstie💕💕

Daniel smiled at the receptionist as he stepped out of the office building in Nice. His phone rang in his hand and with a smile, he answers it.

“Hey Maxy taxi. We still on for lunch?” He stopped at an intersection, checking the traffic before stepping into the street.

“Of course. Same place?” Max's voice was steady on the other line, Daniel wondered if he was driving. 

Daniel had just come in from Keynes, what was maybe his third trip in as many months. He'd been pretty busy since he took over for Jackie.

This trip, thankfully, was just to end his consulting role with Red Bull. He didn't want the Stewarding Panel to have any more seeming affiliation than needed with one Organization. Christian had understood but Daniel knew he wasn't exactly happy about it.

He'd then had another appointment in Nice with one of the heads of Alpine and then he was supposed to stop at an old safe house before meeting Max for lunch.

Honestly, the appointments were the worst part of the whole gig and he understood, now, why Sebastian always complained about them.

“Yeppers." Daniel reached into his pocket for the keys to a seemingly run down building.

“I thought you were wearing the green shirt?” Max commented offhandedly.

“Hmm?” Daniel raised a brow and turned his arm, taking in the dark blue of his long sleeve.

“Didn’t you go meet Otmar in a green shirt?”

"Yeah then I like spilt tea all over myself and took off that sweatshirt. It's in my bag." Daniel rolled his eyes fondly, and hung his head with an embarrassed sigh.

He stepped back from the stoop of the building and looked around; taking in all the highrises and trying to mentally calculate just which one Max would be laying on, watching his movements through his scope. “Babe, you promised you wouldn’t." Daniel complained lightly, turning his focus back to finding his errant keys.

“I just don’t trust the guy, I think.” Max said simply.

Daniel could hear Max's shrug, hear the shift of his Tshirt on the butt of the sniper rifle. “That’s fair. But you could have told me”

“Just like you, of course,wore a different shirt and didn’t tell me. What if something happened, maybe, and I am too busy looking for a green shirt to find you." Max grumped in his ear, Daniel chuckled at his audible pout.

“Bee tee dubs, I did tell you." Daniel shouldered open the stuck door. "Check the chat."

He pocketed his keys then turned around and blew a kiss to the sky. "I'll see you at the restaurant babe."

[starrybouquet]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged several weeks ago by @doodledrawreblogs - thanks cy! and sorry this is late lol

1. how many works do you have on Ao3? counting drabbles, 77 works!

2. what's your total Ao3 word count? 127,611 (yes, most of the works are oneshots)

3. what fandoms do you write for? I have AO3 stuff for Stargate SG-1, NCIS, Top Gun, and RPF!

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

I thought this would just be all the multichaps I've written (or started) but I guess there's something to be said for older stuff because it's actually all Stargate! I suspect penny!fic will eventually appear on here if I ever get off my butt and finish it

In All Duty and Service (T, Stargate, S/J, 13k)

4am (G, Stargate, S/J, 2.4k)

for here I am sitting in my tin can (strike him down) (G, icemav, 7k) - 964 kudos

and ease my mind (G, icemav, 533) - 947 kudos

so put me where I belong (G, mavdad, 3k) - 853 kudos

5. do you respond to comments? Originally, I responded to every comment. Then I started getting the inevitable daily/weekly "please update" or "update" or "are you going to finish this??" comments and now I don't respond to every comment. If your comment says something nice, though, I'll do my best to respond to it eventually!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Uhh...nothing yet, I think? I'm really way worse about saccharine-sweet, syrupy, TERRIBLY FLUFFY endings.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I wrote a 200-word ficlet that is literally only the happy ending! Just Like in the Movies

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not yet, but all my more ~controversial~ stuff is safely in my GDrive still, so....*shrugs* all my current AO3 stuff is pretty bland.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Nope. Every year I threaten to do it and then I just get all embarrassed about it and never share anything.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Not yet, but if I had a good idea for one I'd absolutely write it!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Stealing Cy's answer for this because it's so true lol. I don't...think so?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not that I know of! (If you would like to translate anything of mine, please go for it! There's not much to work with right now though lol)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Nothing that's on AO3, only super-secret stuff that may never see the light of day!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? is this question asking for an OTP? Because I have two: Sam/Jack, SG1 and Janeway/Chakotay, Voyager.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Gah, all of them. Uhhh, there's a marriage-of-convenience SJ AU where Sam and Jack have to be married to be on the same SG team that @carothepoet and I brainstormed years ago, and I doubt we'll ever finish?

16. What are your writing strengths? Silly dialogue, short fics! That's...um...it.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? WRITING VOLUME. It's not that I can't do it, it's that I don't ever prioritize my writing enough to find the time. In terms of actually putting words on the page...description is hard. Plot is hard.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Honestly, I'm just insane and "what the hell, it's a hobby not a job" enough to Google Translate something if I really need to have some dialogue in another language. Obviously I'd put a disclaimer that I have no idea if it's correct. I like making fun of the "everyone speaks English" TV trope though, so I'm far more likely to just have the aliens randomly speak English XD

19. First fandom you wrote for? The first thing I published was for Stargate. The first stuff I wrote before I knew what fanfiction was? God, probably...actually I have no clue? percy jackson? chronicles of narnia? who knows.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? I am choosing to be an optimist today: I don't think it's been written yet!! I do, however, have a special fondness for Chapter 3 of Letters to Archie for, yes, its pettiness and fluffiness, and also for in for a penny, in for a pound because it's fun!

I haven't been on here in ages so I have no idea who to tag. I'm just gonna tag a bunch of people and hope some of them are actually active. Uh, no pressure tagging @malewifebillcage @tommyjop @curator-on-ao3 @mylittleredgirl @mrv3000 @delicatelie89 @ladywaffles @sluttyhenley @redbelles?

[faithfulcat111]

Stonathan Sundays

I'm thinking of this as a spiritual predecessor to one of my Stonathan week fics in which you'll learn more about just why Jonathan hates the dark. Till then, enjoy this on-the-spot Stonathan Sunday ficlet! @stonathanweek

"I'm not a big fan of the dark."

Steve looked up from where he was trying to piece together the map that Dustin had given him before he headed out on patrol. Jonathan sat on the other side of said map, looking blankly through the slats of the boarded over window beside them. The little shack of a house that the two had found themselves taking shelter in was long abandoned like most of the area around Hawkins, but you could still see the glowing red sky above what was formerly town center. It was growing and none of them were certain how much longer their rag-tag group could hold back the worst of the things crawling out of the cracks before they had to evacuate like most of the town already had.

"I don't think any of us are. Even with that thing lighting the sky every night," Steve gestured towards the glowing sky, trying to smile through dirt and muck he knew he was covered in. Their patrol had been a bit of a mess, and they might have been a bit lost, hence the taking shelter in the abandoned shack.

"No, I mean," Steve didn't think it was possible for Jonathan to sound frustrated like that, not after finally getting to know the guy, but he clearly was as he turned away from the window. "I mean from before all this. I hate it. Literally will go into a panic attack because of the dark or being closed in. And I'm telling you this because I know I'm already close to one. And I don't want to deal with that and you don't want to deal with that, so I'm letting you know." He finished off that little ramble with a shrug.

Steve frowned. It was hard for him to read Jonathan's face with the shadows growing across the room, but that ever-present stoicism plastered onto Jonathan's face and voice was undercut with a hint of growing fear. Steve looked around the room, spotting the pile he had seen of old yellow books and newspapers that had been left behind. "Okay, then we'll make it not dark anymore," he said, getting up to grab the first few pieces off the pile before walking over to the old wood stove in the corner. "Do you know how to light one of these?"

There is a hitch in Jonathan's breathing and Steve hears him move closer more than sees him, "Yes, but we need more than just that to get it going."

It took some scavenging, mainly done by Steve, to find some kindling and wood to add to the newspaper, but he looked over at Jonathan when he could, watching the soft glow of the fire that was growing light up his features as he used the lighter he always carried to help get it going. When Jonathan finally deemed it enough, Steve sat back down next to him, watching his face as Jonathan's eyes were trained on the fire before them.

There was something warm and strong in the air that didn't come from the growing heat. Something that Steve realized came from this thing between him and Jonathan. Steve couldn't pinpoint when it started, if it was new or he'd been oblivious to its existance all the way back to that day three years ago when Jonathan punched some sense into him and then saved his life causing Steve to do the same. But he knew that he definitely noticed it now that the two were stuck in such close proximity all of the time. To the point that Steve wanted to choose Jonathan as his patrol partner rather than the girls and be around him more. Have him shyly grab his hand again and maybe more.

"Is that better?" Steve congratulated himself when Jonathan didn't startle from his voice. He so easily did and was so naturally quiet.

But he didn't this time. Jonathan turned to Steve, a slight smile on his face as it glowed red in the firelight. "Yes," he quietly murmured before shifting, surprising Steve as he leaned into his side. Steve couldn't suppress his grin any longer, feeling it spread across his own face as he moved his arm around Jonathan to pull him in closer. "It's perfect."

[eiirisworkshop]

Shorn

An Old Guard ficlet Available to read on Ao3 here, or as an author-read podfic here.

~

Joe finished drying his hair, hung up his towel, threw on some clothes that he was pretty sure were technically his—either way they fit, which was the important part—then he went downstairs to where the rest of his family was gathered. Nicky and Nile were both at the table—Nile with her tongue caught between her teeth, sketchbook open in front of her, Nicky frowning intensely at a book half his age, lips moving silently as he read. Booker was sprawled on the couch, feet up on the armrest, laptop on his chest. Andy and Quynh were laying on the floor, working their way through the biggest book of word puzzles they'd been able to find.

He came to peer over Nicky's shoulder, lay one hand on his back, also frowned at the book—fucking Russian cursive—then bent to kiss his cheek. Joe felt the moment Nicky realized the difference—something like a flinch, then his hand coming up quickly to caress Joe's cheek as he turned, smiling, to press their mouths together. He pulled away just enough to look at Joe, clear eyes bright with the excitement of surprise, and brushed his thumb over Joe's cheekbone. “You shaved.”

“I did,” Joe confirmed, chuckling as Nicky took the opportunity to press kisses along his jaw.

Everyone else in the room had looked up at them. Andy wolf whistled. Nile let her pencil roll to the center spine of her book, and shoved back from the table, shaking her head. “Nope, no way, that's not Joe.”

“Mm, I promise it is,” Nicky said between kisses. Joe rolled his eyes.

“I don't believe you.” Nile got up from her chair. “There is no way.” She came around the table.

Nicky planted one more smooch against his smooth cheek, “Beautiful, isn't he?” then released him and gave him a little shove towards Nile, who immediately caught his face in both her hands and shmushed it like an overly affectionate aunt might do to a small child.

“So cute!” she cooed, which may or may not have been in agreement with Nicky, and continued to shmush his face, rocking her hands back and forth.

“Allahuma Alhemna Assabr,” Joe said to the ceiling—at least, he tried to. It was hard to talk with his face being kneaded like bread. Nicky wasn't even trying not to laugh at his predicament.

“Really though, oh my goodness.” Nile let go of him for a moment then started rubbing his cheek again—just one, though. “How old does your passport say you are?”

“Uh, fifty-five.” Head bobbing slightly as he was petted, Joe started to chuckle.

“No one would believe that!” She stepped back and crossed her arms. “Book, what were you thinking?”

“I made that one a while ago,” Booker said with a shrug. He'd sat up and was grinning behind his hand.

“When?” Nile asked. “The 80s? Joe, how old are, were you when—” She waved a hand vaguely between him and Nicky.

“I killed him the first time?” Nicky finished for her. “Thirty-three.”

“No.” Nile shook her head seriously and looked at Joe. “You're seventeen. You've been seventeen for a while.”

“I understood that reference!” Booker said brightly.

Nile blinked a couple times and pivoted towards the couch. “Hang on, you've seen Twilight and The Avengers?”

“Mhm.” Booker levered himself off the couch and stepped towards the table. “I'm French, I need all the escapist coping mechanisms I can find, and in hindsight I should have punched Jean-Luc Godard in his stupid fucking face when I had a chance.” Grinning, he noogied Joe's cheek playfully. “And you never get to say again that I overreacted the first time I saw you beardless.”

“Quit that.” Joe shoved Bookers hand away. “Well, I'm not shaving again for a century.”

“Nah, don't do that.” Andy got up from the floor, stretched, and came over to take her turn groping Joe's face. “If you do, you'll just get the same response.” She kissed his cheek, then patted the other. “Shave frequently, desensitize her.”

Joe wrinkled his nose and hummed noncommittally.

Stonefaced, Nicky put a hand on on Andy's shoulder. “He would never break my heart like that.”

“You'd forgive him,” Quynh said with utmost confidence from the floor.

“I've murdered him over less,” Nicky said darkly.

Joe shrugged. “Not recently.” He smiled as Nicky kissed his cheek again, returned the kiss, then looked to Quynh. “You're the only one who hasn't felt up my face.”

“I'm the only one with any boundaries left.” She rose gracefully from the floor, smiled wickedly, and skipped over to nuzzle her face against his.

“What boundaries?” Joe laughed, nuzzling back.

“So I'm the only one who gets shoved off?” Booker asked indignantly.

“You're the only one who did something that hurts!” Joe reached out to scrub his own knuckles over Booker's cheekbone.

“Aie,” Booker flinched away, “okay, okay.”