#about fictober18

[fictober-event]

For all the new people following the blog, here are the prompts again for 2018.

Tag your posts with #fictober18. Please state if your entry is original fiction or fanfiction and what fandom at the top. State common warnings and triggers at the top and tag accordingly. I reserve the right to not reblog fics that I find inappropriate. 

Prompts:

“Can you feel this?”

“People like you have no imagination.”

“How can I trust you?”

“Will that be all?”

“Take what you need.”

“I heard enough, this ends now.”

“No worries, we still have time.”

“I know you do.”

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

“You think this troubles me?”

“But I will never forget!”

“Who could do this?”

“Try harder, next time.”

“Some people call this wisdom.”

“I thought you had forgotten.”

“This is gonna be so much fun!”

“I’ll tell you but you’re not gonna like it.”

“You should have seen it.”

“Oh please, like this is the worst I have done.”

“I hope you have a speech prepared.”

“Impressive, truly.”

“I know how you love to play games.”

“This is not new, it only feels like it.”

“You knows this, you know this to be true.”

“Go forward, do not stray.”

“But if you cannot see it, is it really there?”

“Remember, you have to remember.”

“I felt it. You know what I mean.”

“At least it can’t get any worse.”

“Do we really have to do this again?”

“I’ve waited so long for this.”

[chilliebean5]

Fictober Day 20: “I hope you have a speech prepared.”

Rating: Teen and up

Fandom: Overwatch

Characters: Jesse McCree, Hanzo Shimada

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and alcohol abuse.

Notes: Part two of “Try harder, next time.”

Words: 1208

It took nearly two months, but as Jesse stands in the newest section of the training range, hardlight targets looking back at him, he can’t help but whistle in appreciation. “Nice job, Hanzo.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo replies, smirking. He looks at the targets before turning his attention back to his bow, and Jesse can’t actually believe he uses one and claims to be better at it than a gun.

And if Jesse is being completely honest, he is sceptical that Hanzo can win against his gun. Arrows travel slower, take longer to draw and loose than pulling the trigger of his gun. Yeah, reloading takes some time, but Jesse’s got it down to an art form now; 1.3 seconds for six bullets, compared to that long at least per arrow.

In any case, he will entertain Hanzo, because this is the first time in a while that he has looked genuinely happy, and according to Genji the first time in a week he has not had alcohol in his system. They had some sort of blow up, so much so that not even Genji wants to talk about it, and after the week-long bender they put it aside and worked together on finishing this section of the training range. 

Ultimately, Jesse might not know Hanzo that well, given he does prefer solitude, but boy, he can relate to that behaviour, turning to the bottle when shit gets tough. He glances at Hanzo as he inspects the tension of his bow, and realises he should get into the same competitive mindset Hanzo’s clearly in. “I still don’t think you can beat me an’ ol’ Peacekeeper with your bow,” he says, unholstering Peacekeeper and spinning her on his finger.

Hanzo glances at him from the corner of his eye. “Storm Bow and I will be victorious tonight.”

“You sound mighty sure of yourself.”

“I am sure,” Hanzo says, smirk growing wider.

“I hope you have a speech prepared.”

Hanzo's eyes snap to meet Jesse's, and Jesse can see that competitive glint in his eye. “Would it be too much to call an all-hands meeting?”

Jesse can't help but laugh. “I like you, Shimada.” So it seems he has a wicked sense of humour too, and while Jesse’s been trying to get to know him better since he joined, he really wants to crack that hardened exterior now. “Tell you what, how about we make this a little interesting?”

“Go on,” Hanzo says, turning to face him.

“Loser buys the first round of drinks.”

“Just the first round?” Hanzo takes a step towards him, smirking again. “Are you afraid of losing, McCree?”

“Absolutely not. Just giving you the option because I can hold my liquor.”

“As can I.”

“Don't want you having to pay for several rounds.”

“Money is no issue.” Hanzo's practically grinning now. “Unless it is for you?”

“Nup, no issue,” Jesse replies, grinning back. “Fine, loser buys drinks tonight.”

Hanzo extends his hand, and Jesse shakes it. “Agreed.”

“A’ight,” Jesse breathes, looking at the targets. “Since this is your baby, what are the rules?”

“Speed rounds,” Hanzo says, turning his attention to the console on the wall. The targets start moving, their patterns unpredictable. “This program will not only have random movements, but new targets will spawn when ones take damage. We will start with fifty targets each.”

“I like it,” Jesse says, nodding. “How many rounds?”

Hanzo looks over his shoulder, devilish grin on his face. “Until you concede that I have won”

“Oh, you're on, Shimada,” Jesse chuckles. We'll be here all night, waiting for you to concede that I'm the faster shot.” He smirks. “How about we make it a little easier on you, I'll stick to just headshots, you can do body shots.”

“I do not require an advantage,” Hanzo retorts. “Headshots only.”

Jesse shrugs. “Your funeral. The floor’s yours, Shimada,” he says, tipping his hat and taking a good few steps back.

“Challengers first,” he retorts, arm extended to the range.

Jesse gives him a good, long stare, and knows that if he insisted Hanzo go first, they could be stuck in this stalemate for the rest of the night and someone’s got to give because he really needs to see if Hanzo’s as big of a shot as he claims to be. “Okay,” Jesse says, approaching him and winking as he passes. He stands in front of the targets, and he can’t help but smile; he still can't believe he's about to enter a duel with an archer of all things.

“There will be a countdown,” Hanzo says, standing beside the console. “Be ready.”

Jesse looks at him from over his shoulder. “Oh, I am ready.” And with that, Hanzo presses at the console, there are three countdown beeps before a final beep and the targets start moving. He’s off like a rocket, counting the shots in his head as he goes, factoring in tracking and reloading he thinks he's at around one hit per second. Not bad at all. When he lands the final headshot and the alarm rings, he turns, blows the smoke from the muzzle and holsters Peacekeeper, looking at Hanzo.

“Athena, time?” Hanzo asks.

“50.25 seconds,” the AI coolly responds.

“Not bad,” Hanzo says, then a cocky grin spreads on his lips. “But will it be enough?”

“Oh, it will be,” Jesse says confidently, taking a few steps back and giving Hanzo the range.

Hanzo bows his head, picks his quiver from the floor and straps it to his back, before standing in front of the reset targets, shrugging his shoulders and rolling his head. “I am ready,” he calls over his shoulder.

Jesse presses the console, the countdown beep starts, and on the final beep, with lightning-fast reflexes, Hanzo starts the round. Mouth agape, Jesse watches, awestruck, dumbfounded and put in his place as Hanzo lands headshot after headshot, plucking three arrows at a time to cut down on reaching behind him, shooting the three of them in what has to be under two seconds. And he doesn't know the pattern at least, while his reflexes are quick as a flash, he isn't predicting where they'll appear. Before Jesse can look back at Hanzo, the final beep sounds, and Hanzo stands up straight again.

“Athena, time?”

“48.55 seconds.”

Hanzo’s eyes snap to meet Jesse’s and he’s got the biggest grin on his face. “I never thought I would see the day.”

“I’m…”

“Speechless, gunslinger?”

Jesse just stares at Hanzo, knows he should close his mouth because he’s sure he looks like a damn fish, but can’t. “How...?” is all he can muster.

“Years of training. Would you like a rematch, see if you can beat me?”

“Nup, I wanna hear the stories, how many hours of training, how you’re so goddamn faster than a gun! That’s impressive Hanzo, I take my hat off to you,” he says, doing just that, pressing his hat to his chest.

Hanzo stands up a little taller, practically puffs out his chest. “Thank you,” he says, and despite his cocky actions, the response is genuine.

“C’mon,” Jesse says, placing his hat back on his head. “Let’s get cleaned up here and head out. Drinks are on me, after all.”

[Previous] | [Next]

[fordanoia]

Fictober18 Day 1.

Fandom: Gravity Falls  ||  CW: Ghost/Death implications  ||  “Can you feel this?”

______

“Can you feel this?”

“No.”

“What about this?”

He sighed before answering again. “No.”

Stan was sitting on the floor beside Ford’s body. He lifted Ford’s leg up by the fabric of his pants. “This?”

“Stanley-“

“Okay, okay, blame a guy for making sure.” Stan let his leg drop back down unceremoniously.

Ford hovered in the air nearby him, the pair both looking at where his body currently laid in the small makeshift kitchen. He attempted to cross his arms behind his back only for them to pass through with a frustrated look on his face.

“How’s it floating?”

“I’m technically dead right now, Stanley.”

“... Not as dead as the once in a lifetime joke you just killed, Sixer.”

“Sincerest apologies, I’ll be sure not to kill that one then.” He replied blandly.

“You’re killing me here, you know that?” He said putting a hand to his own chest as he glancing up at Ford’s spectral form.

“Not too quickly, I hope.”

Stan looked back at the body and they both stared at it for a few seconds, thinking.

“Have you tried just getting inside of it and... connecting with it?” Stan suggested.

“Yes.”

“How’d that work?”

Ford stopped and just silently looked back over at him.

Stan checked over at him when he didn’t answer only to see Ford was dead ass staring at him. “Look, I know how it turned out, but did it do anything is what I’m asking.”

“As far as I could tell no.” Ford said, finally looking back at his body again.

“This happen a lot?”

“Usually? No. For one, you really shouldn’t even be able to see my current form. Unless, I’m actually dead dead, I suppose.”

“We walked into town once here, and you think you already died? It’s not even a dangerous place.”

Ford shrugged.

“Least you’re on the boat.” He muttered quietly, a bit uncomfortable again with Ford’s body just... unmoving in front of him. “Alright,” He said, “how do we fix it?”

Ford didn’t say anything.

Stan crossed his arms and tapped his fingers along his sleeves, waiting. He’d been terrified when he’d initially discovered Ford’s body here, but ghost kinda-blue-and-see-through-y-spirit Ford had been right there too and quickly proved that it was really him.

That original gut feeling from that initial sight was dredging itself up again though as another second ticked on with him sitting quietly in front of Ford’s utterly still body.

And another second with no response... And another... “Ford!”

“It’s alright. It’s alright, Stanley, I was just thinking.” Ford assured him easily, and Stan finally looked over at him again, letting himself relax.

Either Ford was all blasé about dying, which he better like hell not be after everything that happened, or he really was confident that they could fix this.

Ford continued on, gesturing about like normal. “There’s a few different things it could be, but the most likely situation is that it was some kind of forced astral project-“ his hand went through Stan’s shoulder, and he stopped with half his arm cutting through him. Then just let out some heated alien curse as he pulled his hand back.

“This is half the damn reason I hate astral projection!!” He went to put hand up against the side of his head and it went clean through. Ford frowned bitterly, audibly taking in a deep breath through his nose as he let both his hands fall back to his side again.

“Forced astral projection...?”

Ford took a breath. “Yes. There’s a few solutions, but one of the easier ones would just be getting a few supplies from the shops in town. There should be at least some tacky gift shop that sells some quartz.”

Stan grunted, scratching at his chin. “Is your body gonna be okay just...” he gestured at it, “like this?”

“Yes, it looks concerning, but once I’m back inside it will ‘jump start’ so to speak.”

Stan took a deep breath and slowly pulled himself up from the tabletop nearby. “Alright, sounds like a plan.” He glanced back at him. “Any idea why this happened?”

Ford hummed. “Mmm. Nope.” He smiled then, lightening up a bit and lifting up a finger. “Chances are we’ll find out in town though! Maybe someone there accidentally casted a wayward spell that caught onto me.”

“Or, you know... it was aimed at you on purpose ‘cause you accidentally cut in line at the store in front of a witch or something.”

“That’s also a possibility.” Ford noted pleasantly.

[theherocomplex]

Fictober, Day Fifteen

For the ever-patient @hotmilkytea. 

“I thought you had forgotten.”

"April," Donnie said, almost breathlessly, "it's our anniversary. I couldn't forget that."

"You've been in the Science Barn for days," she replied, dubiously. "I know it's your second home and probably you love it more than me -- I'm kidding," she added, over Donnie's indignant squawk. "You've been sleeping down there. I wondered. That's all."

Donnie mumbled under his breath, shoulders slumping.

"What?"

"I built a particle accelerator and I may have deleted a galaxy from our reality and I'm sorry can I make it up to you with a hundred roses?"

"You deleted what?"

[fictober prompt list]

[renee-writer]

If You Can't See It, Is It Really There? Part 28

"I had an interesting conversation with our daughter." Jamie says. Bree lays asleep beside them and Jamie's hand rest protectively across her.

"About what?" She still can't get over the awe of hearing Jamie call Bree, their daughter. She can't get over being back with Jamie, period. Laying body to body, breathing in the scent that is uniquely Jamie. She does this now as she snuggles closer to him.

He chuckles, rolling away from Bree and facing her. He pulls her closer and soundly kisses her before responding. "About Faith, at first. She mentioned that I had told her of Faith in her dreams. And wondered if because I am alive if her sister is too."

"Oh."

"Aye. I explained that Faith had came to early and had died. Time enough to tell her my role in that." His carefree manner had changed and he trembles in the remembering.

"Stop Jamie. I am as much at fault. If I hadn't been so stubborn, so unbelievably selfish."

"Shhh Sassanech. Let's not. Besides, the conversation dinna end there."

She swallows and wipes her eyes. "Okay, what else did you and our child discuss?"

"She wants a sister."

"She wants a---what? Another baby?"

"Aye, I told her she may end up with a brother. I think she is okay with that." He chuckles again recalling her reaction to the thought of a brother.

"A baby. I hadn't even thought. Not that there are many ways to prevent it. Only sure way we surely won't do. But...I don't know that I can Jamie. It took so long to create Faith. But, Bree was faster. Of course, Frank and didn't."

"I ken Claire. And if we can't, weel Fergus is her brother come to that."

"Yes he is. He must come with us."

"Aye, he will. But, this baby making business, up for a try Sassanech." He makes his meaning clear as his hand finds her bum and draws her up against his already erect penis.

" Always Jamie."

[keldae]

Fictober ‘18 - 3

It was only their second day on Rishi, all sequestered in the safehouse that Theron and Lana (and Jakarro) had procured. And during those two days, Xaja had come to a peak of nervous discomfort and uncertainty.

She was a Jedi, one of the Order typically sworn to not have a family. And yet, now she had two brothers and a father. She had met Sorand well over a year ago on Voss, while she had raced to stop the apocalypse and he had been gathering his strength to fight the Dark Lord of the Sith who had a death mark on his head. And she had met Korin months ago on the shuttle to Korriban, preparing an attack on the Sith Academy. She couldn’t say she was close with either of her brothers yet, but she certainly liked them well enough, and they seemed to like her too.

Her father… Xaja wasn’t sure. The idea that she was the daughter of Cipher Nine, Imperial Intelligence’s oldest and longest-lasting field operative, with a vicious streak a parsec wide and a kill list longer than her arm, was discomfiting. And yet, she had a vague memory of him helping her escape the Emperor’s station, freeing her from the shock collar the Sith had put around her neck to keep her compliant and under Vitiate’s control. And he had been nothing but charming in the few times she’d met him since Manaan, when he wasn’t poking fun at Theron.

She had no idea how she was supposed to feel about the grey-haired man who lazily sprawled over a panel of the safehouse roof, basking in Rishi’s sunlight while flicking through files on a datapad. Every sense of logic that she had insisted that he was an Imperial spy, and agents of the Empire weren’t to be trusted--

“If you wanted to chat, baby girl, you don’t have to just stand there.” Reanden glanced over in Xaja’s direction, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “I don’t bite.”

Chagrined at being caught, Xaja took a couple of cautious steps toward her father as he sat up and set the datapad to the side. “Sorry,” she quietly said, trying to not fidget with the hem of her tunic. “I just… I don’t know. I had questions.”

“I’ll bet you do. And you deserve some answers.” Reanden patted the roof panel beside him. “Come, sit. I’ll tell you as much as I can.”

“... But how can I trust you?” Xaja asked before she could stop herself. She tried to ignore the brief flash of hurt in her father’s eyes. “I barely know you, and what I know is you used to work for Imperial Intelligence -- hells, you’re something of a legend.”

“Not untrue,” Reanden nodded in agreement, his face schooled back to neutral calmness. “What reason would I have to lie to you?”

That made Xaja shrug. “I don’t know,” she quietly said. “I just…”

“... You don’t trust easily. You come by that honestly, from both your mother and I.” With a grunt, Reanden drew one knee closer to his chest and casually rested his elbow there. “You and your brothers all got somewhat kriffed in that genetic lottery -- sorry.”

A smile pulled at Xaja’s mouth despite her best efforts. It disappeared in a thoughtful frown. “... How did you and my mother meet? I don’t know much of anything about her from the Corellian Jedi.”

“The Green Jedi didn’t tell you anything about your mum?” That got a frown. “Blast it. Your mother was a legend on her own, sweetheart.” Reanden tilted his head in thought, lowly humming to himself as Xaja hesitantly approached him and sat down. “The first time your mother and I met, we were on assignments from our respective handlers to kill each other. We obviously both failed, multiple times -- it wound up becoming something of a game for the first several months to see who would end up knocked out or tied up in a more embarrassing predicament, courtesy of the other one…”

Three hours of nostalgic stories later, and Xaja started to feel that maybe, just maybe, she could trust her father as much as she was slowly learning to trust her brothers.

[kibuto]

Fictober 2018 - Prompt #20

Fandom: Dragon Age 2 Characters: Male Hawke, Varric Tethras Prompt: "I hope you have a speech prepared"

Being infamous was entirely different from being famous. In the weeks since besting the Arishok in single combat, Hawke had noticed a pronounced change in how the citizens of Kirkwall acted around him.

The little fact that he was an apostate, for example, had been something of a dramatic reveal.

Hawke had kept more to himself since the fight, choosing not to leave the mansion very much. Given the people who liked to hang around Hightown, hoping to catch a glimpse of their Champion, none of Hawke's friends blamed him for his reclusive tendencies. They did at least talk him into occasionally coming out to visit after night fell.

On one such night, Hawke slipped out of the mansion and headed straight into Lowtown. He knew where his friends would be gathered - it was Varric's night to host some card games at his room at The Hanged Man. Hawke just wanted a little bit of that normalcy again. Staying at home, alone, just wasn't something he could force himself to do for very long at a time.

It was hard to say which was worse - solitude, or a tavern packed with people all wanting to get a glimpse of the so-called Champion. Hawke froze in the doorway and looked out over the gathered crowd.

"Hawke!" Varric's voice carried over the noise, the man himself pushing his way over to Hawke and grabbing his arm. "I couldn't get a message out to tell you; they all just kinda showed up at once."

Hawke turned wide eyes down to Varric. "How?"

"No idea. Well, some idea, but unproven." Varric slapped Hawke on the back. "I think a few words from you is the only thing that'll placate them at this point. I hope you have a speech prepared."

[carisi-dreams]

FICTOBER18 DAY 26 PROMPT | “But if you cannot see it, is it really there?”

fandom: Law and Order: SVU alternate universe [motorcycleclub!au] pairing: OC/OC [Veronica/Razor] warnings: mentions of gender dysmorphia associated with a trans character

/////////////////

Razor turned over in the bed and tossed out his arm to wrap around Veronica. When he hit nothing but bed sheets he nestled back into the pillow before pausing. The realization that she wasn’t in the bed next to him threatened to pull him entirely from sleep. He rubbed his hand over her spot in the bed again. The sheets were cool to the touch and Razor grumbled a little before turning over and squinting an eye open to look in the direction of the bathroom. He closed his eye again and listened for sounds of her moving around the apartment. It was quiet and the silence threatened to lull him back into sleep before he roused himself again. With resolve and a groan he pushed himself into a lazy slump. He rubbed a sleep heavy hand over his face, digging his heel into his eye as he yawned and blinked the other one open slowly.

“V?” he called out in a rough voice. He made a face at how grating his voice sounded and made a renewed commitment to cut back on the cigarettes. There was no immediate response, so he tried again. “Veronica?”

He strained his ear to listen to a response and when he didn’t hear one he snapped into full alertness. With slow, careful movements he reached for the gun he had sitting on her bedside table. It looked completely out of place amidst the gold and marble and he chuckled wryly before standing to his feet. He inched down the hallway on the balls of his feet; the sound getting swallowed up in the plush carpet. The bathroom was empty when he peeked around the door and he continued on to the living room where he finally saw her cuddled in the far end of the couch. He let out a big breath and sagged as the adrenaline began to leave his body as abruptly as it had started thrumming. He flicked the safety back on the gun and set it on the coffee table carefully before tossing himself onto the couch.

“Was looking for you,” Razor murmured as he leaned back and reached for her legs to draw them into his lap.

She drew them out of his grip and back into her tight ball and Razor finally took in her appearance more critically. Veronica was wearing a sweatshirt that she had pulled over her legs where they were tugged into her chest and her hair was in a bun. Her face was, of course, make-up free and she currently had her teeth buried into her bottom lip. She was withdrawn. Subdued. An island.

“Did I do something?” Razor asked slowly as he dropped his hands into his lap. She shook her head and he could have sworn her grip on the mug in her hands tightened. He felt momentary relief and the muscles high on his back unbunched as he relaxed his shoulders once more.

“Everything’s not about you, Andre,” she replied sharply. Her voice was brittle and Razor had to combat his knee-jerk response to respond in the same sharp tone. He paused and ground his back teeth together.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong so that I can help?” he asked neutrally. Mental applause for his self-restraint was in order.

“What was your first impression of me?” she asked in a weighted tone. 

He cocked his head in confusion at the change of topic, but decided to go with it. He scratched at the bottom of his chin, made another mental note for a shave, and thought. His brain operated like a dial up computer internet in the morning and he was already stretching it’s capacity. He thought harder, but when he remained silent she scoffed and, if possible, seemed to withdraw more.

“You know I’m useless in the morning,” he defended himself with a hand up. “I think the first thing I thought was ‘wow’ and the second was ‘she’s gorgeous’ and the third was probably like, ‘who do I have to kill to get her to date me.’” He shrugged with a self deprecating smile stretching across his face as he absently scratched at his stubble again. “Not that deep, I’m afraid.”

She regarded him with a slightly inquisitive look before going on. “And when you found out?”

“Found out…” he trailed off, unsure what she was talking about.

“Jesus, you are useless in the morning,” she huffed to herself. Finally unthawing slightly she leaned over to place her mug on the coffee table. It looked mostly full from where Razor was sitting, but there was no steam wafting from the top of it. “Found out that I wasn’t born a woman.” She raised her eyebrows with a knowing look.

“V, we’ve talked about this. I—”

She cut him off with a sharp look. He sighed heavily and answered the question. “I think I was a little confused, a little curious, and then shrugged it off and went along my way. And tried to convince you to go on a date with me. It wasn’t a—”

“Spare me the glossy historical rewrite,” she cut him off. He looked offended and he leaned forward to brace his forearms on his thighs.

“Just because I’m a biker doesn’t mean I’m stupid, Veronica,” Razor replied sharply, temper finally fighting to the surface before he could fight it back.

“I’ve never said—”

“You treat me like that,” he interrupted plainly. “Sometimes. You treat me like I’m just a, a dumb gear head who has no awareness about my actions or the world or—or that I never considered what it would be like to date you just because I was never seriously thrown off and I didn’t go to college. I’m not that. You’re my girlfriend. My girlfriend. That’s something I’m pretty happy about, to be honest, so I don’t understand where this is all coming from.” His frustration and confusion was almost palpable and he resisted the urge to tug at his hair.

“Do you guys ever talk about your girlfriends?” Veronica asked in lieu of addressing his words. He growled in frustration, but answered the question.

“Of course we do,” he ground out.

“About sex?” she asked with an arch of her eyebrow.

He shrugged and nodded. “Of course. We’re guys, hermosa.”

“And none of them ever ask…or wonder aloud…about you and I…?” she started and failed to finish several sentences.

“They can wonder all they want,” Razor dismissed with a dismissive shrug. “I say the same shit everyone else does. We don’t really go into that much detail, none of us are writing a book on the other. It’s the usual, ‘how loud she got’, ‘how hard I made her come’, ‘how long I lasted’ bullshit.”

“So you’re really telling me that no one has ever asked you if I have a—”

“No one who likes his tongue,” Razor interrupted sharply. She scoffed again and shook her head. “The closest some guy got to asking something that was none of his goddamn business took a fist to the face and I know, without a doubt, that I loosened some of his teeth. Everyone else is smart, or respectful enough to not speculate within earshot of me.”

“And what about within my earshot?” she threw back immediately. “They’re afraid of you, so of course they’d say nothing. But if you can’t see it, is it really there? I see the way people look at us sometimes…” She was back to chewing on her bottom lip and Razor twisted his mouth as he looked at her carefully.

“I can’t control every…pinche culero,” he admitted regretfully. “I wish I could. I wish the world was kinder to you. But I love you, Veronica. I love you. You’re my girl. You’re beautiful. You help me remember that there is softness and beauty and…good things in the world. It’s not all dust and shit and guns.” He noticed a flash of something across her face and he reached for her feet once more. “You’re mine,” he said possessively. “That won’t change unless you want it to.” She unfurled her legs slowly and he gently placed them in his lap. He allowed his fingers to skim over her skin and he smiled for the first time that morning. “The morning rose. My love,” he murmured more words of appreciation to her and she finally met his eye.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She pulled the sleeves of the sweatshirt down further to cover her hands.

“Sorry for what?” Razor asked gently. He continued to trace over her legs and he smiled when he hit a place that made her giggle.

She sobered up and paused his hands. “Sorry for just…jumping on you first thing. It’s not your fault…”

“What’s not my fault?” Razor probed when it seemed like she was just going to let the sentence hang between them like a cobweb.

“That I’m having a bad morning. I feel…Sometimes I feel like I wish I could peel my skin off. It feels too tight and constricting and I look in the mirror and I don’t see the me I feel like. And I’m not even talking about,” she made a vague gesture towards her body. “I look at my face sometimes…or I hear my voice and I just…I feel stuck. And alone. And like an alien in my own body and I just cannot for the life of me understand how you don’t see…all of that.” Another gesture to herself that Razor interpreted as meaning her inner turmoil.

“I just see you, V. Exactly how you have always been and always will be. I see you.” He pressed a kiss to her knee. “And I’m here to remind you of who you are and how I see you anytime you need.”

She smiled faintly and leaned in for a kiss and he was all to happy to bridge the space between them and draw her face to his.

[mia-cooper]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Trek: Voyager Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Kathryn Janeway & Kathryn Janeway, Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway Characters: Kathryn Janeway, Chakotay (Star Trek) Additional Tags: Episode: s02e21 Deadlock, Vidiians, Canonical Character Death, kind of, Double Janeway, almost-confessions Series: Part 7 of Behind the Scenes: 31 Days of Voyager Summary:

Running out of time can bring home the truths you’re not willing to admit, even to yourself.

Written for #fictober2018 Day 7 prompt: “No worries, we still have time” (which I modified slightly). Episode addition to Deadlock.

[ferociousqueak]

Some people call this wisdom

And the second of the three I’ve been working on :D Both @bloomingcnidarians and @thievinghippo requested this one. Please enjoy :D

Waking wasn’t really the word.

Did a dead person wake?

Did a train wreck wake?

Did a natural disaster wake?

Odessus didn’t imagine any of those things did, so how could she? Why should she?

“You have to go to work,” Sana’s voice said from somewhere both indeterminate and all-pervasive.

Odessus wanted to shush her, but she didn’t know where to direct the shush. She settled for a general, multidirectional groan . . . and instantly regretted it when the vibration reached her head.

“I come bearing pain killers,” Sana continued, clearly ignoring Odessus’s displeasure and talking altogether too loud. “Time to get up and be a responsible adult who pays bills and copes with emotional trauma in a healthy way.”

Odessus reached out and found Sana’s hand, cupping the tablets she found there.

Her . . . everything hurt. What happened last night? The last thing she remembered was following a krogan to . . . oh, that explained it.

Odessus took the white tablets and the glass of water. Despite the dryness in her throat, she managed to swallow the pills. Great. In half an hour she’d feel like she wanted to die later.

“You are late for work,” Sana said again, stepping back and crossing her arms. “I called ahead and said you were sick.”

Odessus grunted in response and turned to her other side. It was the best she could manage.

Sana looked at the ground and sighed. “I do get it—”

“How could you possibly?” Odessus growled into her pillow. It was one thing to comfort and console. Another thing entirely to understand.

Sana paused for a long time. “Odessus, I can see that you are hurting,” Sana said, her voice a little softer. “And your response is to hurt yourself more, to hurt me, even. By the goddess, Hannah has started sending me messages because you have not answered the ones she sends you. Sooner or later, the hurting has to stop. It is up to you when that happens.”

Continue reading at AO3.

[athenasgal]

Fictober day 1

“Can you feel this?”

“Can you feel this?” He asks and I can only say “I think so” because I refuse to actually see if I’ve broken any more bones.

“You didn’t have to come down two flights of stairs to kill that monster to save me you know.”

“Oh sure, I could see that you had it under control Seaweed Brain”. After seeing him from far above cornered by a lastrygonian without riptide in his hand, I panicked and decided to jump and fall on the lastrygonians head yelling from the top of my lungs “DIE” to buy percy some time. Fortunately it worked and I stabbed him in the forehead turning him into dust, unfortunately, I fell straight on the floor and hurt my right arm and foot.

“Yeah well thanks anyway, I was running out of time” he says while bandaging my arm.

“It was nothing, you’ve done the same” I say with a smile, knowing my move was actually something Percy would totally do. He smiled back “Yeah I totally would, maybe you’re starting to think like me babe”

“Ugh don’t even say it, I’m not that stupid”

“Hey!”

“Im joking! I love you seaweed brain” I tell him and he laughs and then kisses me.

“I love you too wise girl.”

[fictober-event]

The prompt post is at over 1600 1700 2000 3000 4000 notes now and I’m so excited and slightly intimidated thinking about all the great fiction we’re going to get to read. 

I will fill up a fast queue with all the reblogs from the #fictober18 tag, if you don’t see your post after a day or two, you might have to point me to it. 

Oh and a note to the writers: Don’t worry if you can’t write for every prompt, don’t worry if it takes longer than you thought. 

Just do what you like and have fun.

[chilliebean5]

Fictober Day 24: “You know this, you know this to be true.”

Rating: Teen and up

Fandom: Overwatch

Characters: Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Hana Song, Brigitte Lindholm, Genji Shimada, Reinhardt Wilhelm, Lena Oxton

Warnings: MekaMechanic, pre-Gencio--Lucio’s in love and pining hard!

Notes: I want to extend the biggest of thanks to not only @robo-cryptid for giving me the prompt to help with this one which left me stumped, but also @liquidlyrium and @midgetnazgul for spitballing, and @fightmemccree for the support <3

Words: 1454

"Titanic?"

"Boring," Hana sing-songs.

"The Sixth Sense?"

"No horror!" Brigitte yells.

A smile spreads on Lúcio's lips. "Jurassic Park." He looks at the both of them. "Can't go wrong with dinosaurs."

Hana's head whips around so fast, it's a miracle she doesn't end up with whiplash. "Yes! It's so good!"

"I guess," Genji replies offhandedly, picking at the bowl of popcorn, before looking at Brigitte. "Up to you."

"Well, I haven't seen it," Brigitte says, thoughtfully, before looking at Hana. "And you're sure it isn't scary?"

"No way! It's got dinosaurs. Please!" Hana pleads.

Brigitte smiles. "All right, then."

"Yes!" Hana exclaims, then looks at Lúcio. "Put it on!"

Lúcio nods, selecting the movie from Athena's database. They found the old folder containing movies grouped by the decade of their release, and are making their way from the earliest, where Jesse gets all his western movies from which they skipped because they have seen those movies enough for three lifetimes, right through to today's modern offerings. The 1990s, for whatever reason, is the one the most of them have seen movies from, making picking one a bit more of a task than normal, and making Jurassic Park the first movie they have watched so far where most of them have seen it, bending their rule of only watching movies no one has seen.

And honestly, Jurassic Park is just one of those movies everyone should see more than once in their life.

Lúcio starts the movie and settles into the couch beside Genji and grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl in Genji's lap. He notices Brigitte and Hana getting comfortable on the opposite couch, looking rather cosy under the blanket they're sharing, and he can't help but smile.

"Oh gosh!" Brigitte exclaims, covering her eyes with her hands, and when Lúcio looks at the TV, he just nods; it is the scene when the technician is pulled into the cage by the velociraptor.

"It's okay," Hana says, draping an arm over Brigitte's shoulders and pulling her in close. "It's not that bad." She looks at Lúcio, covers her mouth with her hand in an attempt to stifle her laughter.

"Some girlfriend she is," Genji murmurs.

"She's comforting her, it's cute." Lúcio's stomach flutters a little, as he looks from Genji back to the movie. Oh, how he wants that, someone to comfort, someone to cuddle up to—or someone to cuddle up to him. Genji, preferably, because Lúcio has a small crush on him. He's been thinking about making a move, asking Genji out over the last couple of weeks, but Lúcio's partly afraid of getting 'the talk' from Hanzo, and another small part of Lúcio is worried that he's misinterpreting the signals, considering Genji pretty much flirts with anything that moves.  

So he swallows that down, because he is not about to make a move in this room and face rejection in front of an audience, and focuses on the movie instead. As the movie goes on, everyone hums the theme song when it's played—and when Lúcio says everyone, he means everyone, with Lena, Jesse and Reinhardt popping their heads in at various points and humming along with it. Lena and Reinhardt stay, while Jesse excuses himself, two cups of hot cocoa he made in his hands.

Brigitte seems to be handling it okay so far, Lúcio guesses the initial shock of the opener set the mood, and aside from the odd jump scare, gasp, or quiet murmur to Hana, she seems to be enjoying it.

In fact, everyone is enjoying it.

That is, until that open-shirt scene with Jeff Goldblum comes on.

"Shit, he's hot," Hana says, earning her a giggle from Brigitte.

"Yeah, he kind of is," Brigitte replies, barely audible over the sound of the movie. "I'm glad he's okay though!"

"Okay, no," Genji says, somewhat disapproving, but with that little hint of amusement in his voice that Lúcio's picked up on when he shit-stirs. "Nobody was ever attracted to Jeff Goldblum, that's stupid!"

"Speak for yourself!" Reinhardt says, voice booming over the movie. "This scene is a classic moment in cinema history!"

"Yeah dude," Lúcio adds, looking at Genji, "he's hot."

"No, he isn't," Genji retorts immediately, looking at Lúcio.

Lúcio smirks; Genji's definitely committed to this. "He is."

"No!"

"You know this, you know this to be true!"

"Sorry Genji," Lena says, "you're wrong. Even I'm a little attracted to the man."

"Then you all have shit taste," Genji says, plucking popcorn from the bowl and tossing it at Lena. It lands on her lap, she picks it up, pops it in her mouth and winks.

Lúcio glances at Genji again, sees the little smirk on his lips that he tries to hide it behind his glass as he takes a sip, and Lúcio's mostly sure he was just having a go at them.

Everyone is quiet after that. Brigitte watches the entire kitchen scene through her fingers, Hana holding her close throughout the entire sequence, and she and claps when it's done.

"That was so good," Brigitte says, turning to face them. "When can we watch the rest of them?"

"If it weren't for the mission in the morning, I'd suggest the second one now," Lúcio sighs. "I know most of you are on it and you should probably sleep."

"That's a good point," Lena says, standing up and stretching her arms over her head. "We put on the next one, it'll finish at one a.m. and we have to be out first thing--seven a.m. sharp."

"And I'm sure I don't need to lecture you all on why you need a full night's sleep," Lúcio says, turning off the TV.

"No," Genji groans, standing up and holding the empty popcorn bowl. "We're expected to be back in three days, we can do part two the night we get back."

"Sounds like a plan," Brigitte says, standing up and helping Hana to stand. "Thanks for the movie, it was enjoyable and scary, but mostly enjoyable!"

"Any time," Lúcio replies. "Good night!"

"Thanks, Lúc," Lena says, yawning. "Sleep well."

"You too."

"Good night," Reinhardt says, patting both Genji and Lúcio on the shoulder.

"Night, Rein." Lúcio turns to Genji when they're alone in the room.

"Good movie choice," Genji murmurs, looking at the tablet. "And we'll have a whole heap of them to keep us entertained for the next couple of weeks."

"Sure will," Lúcio says, giving the room a quick once-over before following Genji out and turning off the lights. He helps Genji with the dishes, tries to muster up the courage to say something, anything to turn his thoughts into actual words, to tell Genji that he enjoys his company, that he wants to spend some time with him in a relaxed setting listening to music and cuddling and kissing... But he just can't.

"I'd love to stay up," Genji says, and Lúcio looks at him, startled, hoping he wasn't just ignoring him. "But I'm on that mission tomorrow morning too and I should sleep."

"I know," Lúcio breathes, mentally kicking himself for not saying anything. After the mission, he tells himself, he will talk to Genji after the mission. "Walk you to your room? It's on the way to mine."

Genji smiles, and Lúcio can't help but smile back. "Sure," he says, nodding.

They walk in silence, much to Lúcio's mild annoyance with himself, considering he is struggling to find anything to talk about. He thinks over the events of tonight, going over in his head what he would do differently. Maybe he'd take Genji's hand, lean into him a bit more, seeing if he would take the bait, talking about his beef with Jeff Goldblum—

"Hey, you were joking about the Goldblum scene, right?" Lúcio asks.

"You really wanna know the truth?" Genji replies, stopping, and Lúcio nods eagerly. He leans in, close to Lúcio's ear, and Lúcio holds his breath. "I had that picture from that scene in a notebook when I was a kid," he whispers, before pulling away, smirking.

Lúcio looks into Genji's eyes, breathless, drawn in to kiss him, but he comes to his senses, blinking back the stupor and swallowing the lump in his throat. "I knew you were joking."

"Seriously, find me someone who doesn't think he's hot," he says, looking at the door he's standing in front of. "Anyway, this is me."

"It is," Lúcio breathes.

Genji looks at him, his smile softening. "Well... Good night."

"'Night," Lúcio replies, taking a step, then another, and for every step he takes, he hates it more and more.

When Genji gets back, he will tell him how he feels. He promises himself that at the very least.

[funkzpiel]

Fictober 2018 | Day 9

Fic!Update of Wild Youth | Deaged, Kidnapping - Jacob Frye

Available on AO3

Huge shout out to @drneonbones (who made some amazing fan art from the story) and @yaboitroi and @imnotadogiswear​ who all provided so much support for this fic. Hope it was worth the wait, my friends.

[sunsetswimming]

Fictober prompt “I know you do”

Not sure how I feel about this one.

Haven't done a word count because I'm trash but it's longish??

Joseph meets someone like him

...

Not yet

The first time she heard the inner monologue she had died. It was 5 years ago but it will always be vividly imprinted in her mind. It wasn't the bullet that was lodged in her left shoulder that did her in, nor was it the damage to her trachea due to the restriction of oxygen in her airways; rather, it was the large gash on her head that did it. It had caused a brain bleed. Her forehead had connected with drywall, her body had been thrown into the back corner wall of her tiny office. She had been swimming in a world of pain and then suddenly she was not. The world had fallen dark and she had found herself confused and floating in an infinite void until something tugged at her waist and forcefully pulled her back.

Not yet

She woke up 4 days later at the county hospital with a wicked headache and several memories that needed to be pieced together. They had told her it was a miracle, she had thought it more of a curse.

She didn't die this time, at least she didn't think she did. Her chest burned as her lungs filled with water, her body had been screaming at her. Her head felt as if it was about to explode; the familiar feeling of oxygen deprivation taking over. She could feel the darkness start to creep into her vision when something pulled her back.

Not yet

She was gagging when she came to, the contents of her both her lungs and stomach purging itself violently from her body. Strands of her hair clung to her face as feeling started to return to her body. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and the feel of a hardened chest against her anchored her as she slowly regained consciousness. She could hear the hushed whisperings around her before she could see where they were coming from. The chatter was nervous but not familiar enough to bring her back.

Her vision came last and she found herself frantically looking around trying to make sense of all that was happening. She saw John first, she blinked rapidly until she could make out his trimmed beard and concerned expression. His arms were holding her tightly and the sound of his heartbeat mixed with the soreness of her chest reminding her that she was, in fact, still alive. Her eyes drifted next to the man kneeling beside her and she turned her whole head to look at him. His warm calloused hands were pushing strands of hair out her face, his voice was soothing speaking words that she assumed were meant to calm her. His hands felt like they were everywhere, caressing her neck, cupping her face, tugging gently at her ears. They pulled at her shoulders and she suddenly felt herself being lifted out of the comfort of Johns' arms. A moan escaped her lips as her head spun. Her eyes drifted to the man who held her. She recognized his glasses first the signature yellow aviator glasses that she secretly loved. This was Joseph. The sudden impact of being moved left her with little time to ponder on her current situation. The slight bounce of each step made the arms that held her tremble. She willed her body to go limp only to realize that it already was. She closed her eyes, trying to swallow the uneasy feeling of her stomach as she allowed the steady movement to lull her to sleep.

It felt like any other morning when she came to for the second time. The feel of soft sheets permeated her being and she found herself squirming pleasantly against the fabric. My god, these sheets were heaven. She kept her eyes closed enjoying the warmth of the duvet against her skin and the feathery feeling that cradled her head. She smiled and with little sense of reality rolled over onto her stomach. She wrapped her arms around the pillow bringing its comfort close to her body as she moved a leg towards her chest allowing her knee to rest below the fluff of the pillow.

It was the guttural sound of someone clearing their throat that brought her back to reality. The wave of memories crashing into her temporal lobe with such a force that she sat straight up her eyes open wide and wild as she tried her best to take in her surroundings. She found Jacob sitting in a wooden chair next to a bed that she assumed belonged in Johns house. The look of bewilderment on his face was similar to her own and they both stared at each other in silence for a few minutes. It had never been easy for her to speak with Jacob. He had a way of both captivating and intimidating her equally. She was always stuttered when she tried to speak with him and one time she had actually spat. Not on purpose, of course, but she had been mortified and he had seemed amused in a way that made her even more uncomfortable.

"You're awake," his voice was gruff and awkward. All she could do was no, confusion settling in as she tried her best to remain upright. The erratic rise and fall of her chest made that difficult. A lump was forming in the back of her throat.  Jacob seemed just as unsure as she was. "I uh," he let out a brittle chuckle and without another word walked out leaving her sitting there in a state of shock. She pulled herself towards the head of the bed so she could sit against the headboard. She tried to think about what brought her here. Something had gone wrong. She remembered the baptism well enough; she remembered the press of Johns' thumb on her forehead, his hands wrapping tentatively around her neck as she was lowered slowly into the river. Something had gone wrong, she couldn't remember what, but the next thing she knew that darn voice had brought her back to life. Now, now she was here. Some sudden talk in the hallway left her little time to explore her own thoughts. She recognized Jacobs and for a brief moment she thought of opening the door and confronting the sound but the pit in her stomach; an ever-growing source of her anguish kicked in. The door slowly opened and a head peeked in. John, their eyes met instantly locking into each other, he gave a sheepish smile that was very unlike him and then was gone before she could so much as blink.

Joseph came in next, he had the decency to knock lightly on the door first before striding in. He was shirtless,  his body glimmering in sweat from the smoldering heat of the summer. "You're awake" He echoed Jacobs sentiment from just moments ago. "You should rest" He wasted no time crossing the threshold meeting her with a stern look as he slowly coaxed her into lying back down. He fussed over the blanket pulling it over her body and tucking it slightly under her sides. He pushed the hair out of her face before planting a kiss gently on her forehead allowing his lips to linger just a minute too long.

He sat next to her, staring at her with an intensity that made her want to look away. "You heard it didn't you?" He said finally. She hated that she knew exactly what he was talking about. "You have a gift," he said thoughtfully. "I know you do, I saw it in your eyes." He frowned when she didn't respond. Sometimes she wanted to know what went on in Josephs' head, right now though she really didn't.

"What did it say?" He asked. 

"What?" Her voice cracked as she spoke. Her throat still sore. Joseph pulled the blanket he had so carefully wrapped around her off. He helped her sit back up, bringing a cup of water she hadn't seen him put on the nightstand up to her lips. He had one hand gently placed on the back of her head holding her still, while the other slowly tipped the glass. He gently coaxed her into drinking some water

"The voice," he said with a click of his tongue; a simple reminder not to drink too fast.  "What did it say?"

She groaned in frustration when the glass was unceremoniously pulled away. She let out a frustrated sigh before replying "Not yet. It said, not yet."

"Have you heard it before?" 

"Yes."

Joseph looked excited. He was caressing her cheek now, gently guiding her to lie on her back again. The glass of water abandoned sadly on the dresser. His breathing was erratic. "My precious precious girl, you have no idea how special you are, do you?"  He held her hand in his, gently drawing circles on the soft skin. A warm fuzzy feeling started to take over. Tiny little butterflies swirled around Joseph as it dawned on her that the water hadn't quite tasted right. Her lids were feeling heavy and she goofily smiled up at Joseph. He was suddenly so beautiful that it took her breath away. "Shh, my child. You need to sleep. We have much to discuss when you are well." She trusted him fully, a feeling she wouldn't have thought possible had it not been for the bliss coursing through her veins. She kept smiling, she wasn't sure what he was talking but for the first time in a long time, she felt fine. So she closed her eyes and with happy thoughts floating within the space of her mind, allowed sleep to take her.

[renee-writer]

If You Can't See It, Is It Really There? Part 25

"Brianna?" They lay wrapped around each other. Every part touching. They can't stand any distance between them.

"I know. We have to decide."

"Aye. Before tonight. If she is coming here."

"Will she be safe there?" She worries his chest hair she is playing with.

"With her aunt and uncle? Aye."

"Not how I meant it. She is you Jamie. All over. And if she is seen? If they can't get Red Jamie any other way?"

"Christ! I hadn't thought." She feels his heartrate speed up under her ear.

"She is safe for today Jamie. And if she stays inside.."

"Aye. And until Jenny and Ian hear from us, they will keep her inside. And Fergus will keep watch for any strangers."

"But, we need to bring her her."

"Aye, tis' not how I ever pictured my bairn living."

"It is to keep her safe and it won't be for long." And she remembers the stories coming out of post-war Europe. The hiding places of the Holocaust. It sends a shudder down her.

"Are.ye chilled Sassanech?" He pulls her closer and rubs her back and arms.

"No, just remembering something. Something that came out after the war." She gives him a thumbnail sketch of the nazi's and their evil. He shudders and she feels him signing the Cross over her.

"Mother of God. Not even the Red Coats are that evil."

"Well must of them. He is dead, right?" Oh please let it be so. Because the thought of her daughter being in the same time.

"Aye. I, killed him myself. And then his body saved my life."

"What?" He directs her hands to the scar.

"His final blow giving as I was giving him my killing jab. We fell together. He landed in a way that kept me.from losing all my blood."

"Oh."

"And then my men found me. I heard them cry out. I almost didn't answer. I wished to die but, at the end decided I would rather not do it alone."

"Oh Jamie." She reaches up and cradles his head against her neck. She feels him relax.

"I listened as my men were shot, one after the other. Until I was the last."

"JHRC!' She tremples against him.

"Twas the lad that saved me. Ye recall John Grey?"

"Yes."

"Weel his brother was the captain." He goes on to tell her the rest. "I awoke to Jenny and Ian's anxious faces in the front yard of Lallybroch."

"Thank God."

"Aye. Now I can thank Him. Twasn't to pleased at the time. Even less so when Jenny had to treat my wound."

He tells her about Jenny's stubbornness. She tells him about their daughter's birth. After talking, they make sweet love before drifting off to sleep.