#do i already have a fic named this

[doodleswithangie]

more from my au, in which stan and bill have a reluctant agreement to build the portal (x)

bonus thought: they always tie in their card games, because they both know when the other is cheating and when the other is letting them win

[Image description: Fanart of Bill Cipher and Stanley Pines from "Gravity Falls." Alt text is provided and copied below the cut. End ID]

Copied Alt Text

Image one: Stan wears his Mr. Mystery outfit in the Shack, complete with an eyepatch and magic 8-ball cane. Bill nudges him, saying, "Ooh, eyepatch? How flattering!" Stan snarks back, "Can it, cyclops."

Image two: Bill and Stan float in a mindscape similar to Ford's, except they're playing cards on folding chairs and drink Pitt Colas.

Image three: In front of the broken portal, Stan sits on a toolbox with Journal 1 and other documents scattered in front of him. Bill hovers over his shoulder.

End Copied Alt Text

[peacockrulz]

juzi for the juzi nation maybe? just read hostile takeover by snugglesquiggle and it gave me fatal juzi disease

Thanks now I'm infected!!! (also bonus doodle under the cut)

(requests are still open!)

This is seriously the first time I've drawn juzi??? I need to fix that.

[leelarots]

is this anything

[sukirichi]

PLEASE STOP COPYING FICS ‼️

I am by no means gatekeeping concepts or tropes. We all know that it’s normal to see the same tropes or AUs be used differently, and that is not plagiarism. However, I recently found a fic that was oddly similar to my old (and discontinued) Gojo x Reader series, Reckless. The CEO! Gojo is nothing new, and neither is an accidental pregnancy trope. The only reason I am concerned is because this Gojo series I found has the exact same themes as Reckless that consists of: a playboy CEO Gojo with a very notorious reputation, a poor reader who is an employee and asset to the company (someone who works closely with Gojo), reader getting knocked up from a one night stand with Gojo, reader with a seemingly dead/absent mother yet still in contact with her father, Gojo with a very traditional family who does not like reader, and Gojo with an ex he struggles to let go of - which are all elements of Reckless.

The first chapter of that Gojo fic is also eerily similar to my first chapter with the same flow of: YN finding out she’s pregnant and her friend being there for her, Gojo saying he’ll take responsibility because ‘they both made the baby’, YN having to move in with Gojo to take care of the baby, and both of them coming to a mutual agreement that their ‘relationship’ will be purely for the baby’s benefit. The flow of events and specific details about the characters’ backgrounds are too similar to mine.

Again, I am not gatekeeping concepts, just as how I’ve had other writers ask me if they could write their own stories or takes based off of the NAOYA’S TROPHY WIFE COLLECTION or the BONTEN HUSBANDS EXCLUSIVE, and I’m fine with that. I’m even happy people are inspired by what I write. But being inspired is completely different from taking someone’s story and posting it as yours. Please trust your own creativity and skills in writing. You can write amazing stories and have people love them without having to steal from others.

It’s sad to say this is not the first time I, and other writers, have been plagiarized. It’s even more upsetting to know that a friend of mine who has also written a Gojo series (that I’m sure you all know and dearly love) experiences the same issues with the same person. The fact that this is happening to many writers out there is disheartening. We work hard and pour a lot of love in the stories we create. None of us are getting paid for this, and we simply want to share our passions with others. So please, let us be kinder with one another and show love and support the right way. If you love a fic, you give feedback and rb/comment + show support to the writer. You don’t steal their ideas and play it off as your own because you liked it.

[occasionaltouhou]

this sounds good as hell actually anyone wanna collab with me to make a touhou fangame

[millidew]

scrimblo

[puhpandas]

coming up with a fic where Tony is a ghost tethered to Gregory after GGY kills him and it's just Tony having watched Gregory be mind controlled and then free himself unknowingly and wake up with memory loss and survive a night at the pizzaplex all while Tony cant talk to him or even help him.

afterwards Tony finding out how to show himself as a ghost and Gregory seeing him and just being reminded of GGY and everything that happened and remembering it all and freaking out.

the idea of Tony being a ghost and stuck tethered to his killer + ex-friend but maybe hes actually good? and he doesn't know how to feel about it because as a detective he realizes that Gregory isnt himself while doing all of these things but also... Gregory killed him

[novella-november]

Is this fanfic friendly? I feel like an outlier.

I guess this is my sign it's time to throw together a FAQ post to link to lol.

Yes, every event for this blog is fanfic friendly :D

Though as I mentioned on my Ominous October post, for events that include multiple short stories, I encourage everyone to flex their creativity and take one of their planned short story fanfics, and at least *attempt* to turn one of them into something entirely original; rebuilding a character and story from the ground up to stand on its own two legs is no easy feat, and that is what makes it so fun!

It really gets your creative gears turning, to make an "au of an existing material" to be something entirely original, and you can be pleasantly surprised about the things you come up with!

As a few people say, its not just a matter of "filing the serial numbers off" -- you have to add in just as much *or more* as what you take out when you are turning a fanfiction into something that is original and completely divorced from its original source material / inspiration, and that is a hard, but very rewarding challenge!

Obviously, this is not a requirement (there's no hard requirements for any of the challenges, other than no cheating, including no using AI),

but if you would like an extra challenge for the short story events and you're planning on doing entirely fan-fiction, I highly recommend trying it out at least once, and seeing where it leads you--

you may find yourself pleasantly surprised by what you find down that rabbit hole!

[necrotic-nephilim]

Please infodump about the JayTimSteph Grotesquerie AU WIP if possible.

OF COURSE i've been thinking about it since i saw the trailer and now it's a little brainworm. (disclaimer i've not watched the first two episodes yet, this is like. solely on the vibes of the trailer. some details might change once i. watch the show depending on if i follow it or just go with the vibes the trailer gave me. which also means there will be no spoilers for the show if you care about that.)

the current idea involves Detective!Tim, Nun!Steph, and Priest!Jason. the vague idea for the plot so far is that a serial killer leaves a *very* artful display of a crime scene inside of the church that Jason and Steph operate out of. Tim is assigned as the leading detective on the case and ends up in a relationship with the both of them as he spirals in madness trying to catch the killer.

for Steph, i want to explore the idea of her father, Cluemaster, being a *very* prolific and artful serial killer who's whole gimmick was sending clues to the police until he was caught when Steph was still a child, and her and her mother were forced to go into witness protection for their own safety, which led her down the path of becoming a nun. it was a defining childhood moment for her to walk in on one of her father's crimes, so when she's the one who finds the crime scene in the church, it *immediately* sends her back to her childhood and she's caught between PTSD-fueled horror and a sick, enticing fascination. she wanted to become a journalist before going into WITSEC but that career was basically all but ruined for her. now she runs the small newspaper for the church and is desperate to write on the first "real" story she's ever had, dragging her into an intense obsession over the crime and trying to prove she can solve it.

for Jason, i want to deal with his history as Bruce. the current idea is that Bruce is Tim's police chief who adopted Jason and Dick from a young-ish age and raised them to be detectives, taking them to crime scenes as teenagers and teaching them the ins and outs of how criminals think. it leads to Dick becoming a detective, but when taking them to crime scenes led to Jason being kidnapped and brutally tortured by "Jack Napier", almost dying. Dick kills Napier to save Jason and it fractures their little family so badly that Dick switches departments to another city and Jason runs away at 17, eventually happening upon joining the clergy. he's the new, young priest in the church who's known for being very pretty but very emotionally distant even if he's nice enough. and he's *pissed* that Bruce is in his church investigating a murder and that no matter where Jason goes, he can't seem to get away from the horrors.

and for Tim, he's the young new detective in his department who is *entirely* unaware that he's been taken under Bruce's wing bc Bruce is treating him as a surrogate replacement for Dick and Jason. haven't fully decided his backstory yet, but it'll likely be similar to canon with losing his mother and father. i kind of want him to be lost and lacking a sense of direction. very gifted in noticing patterns and detective work, but it's clear he doesn't *really* want this job. and when he's assigned as the lead on a case that feels *way* too big for his experience bc Bruce is showing clear favoritism, he's forced to go to Steph for help, which leads to Jason ending up wrapped up with them too.

despite how heavy the plot *sounds*, i honestly want this fic to be like. 40% porn. like the show i want to explore a lot of fucked up sexual interests in Jason who's punishing himself for it, Steph being too interested in things for her own good and desperate for a taste of what "real life" feels like, and Tim just being incredibly repressed. like i want the line between horror and erotic to feel like a jumprope. lots of fucked up sex balanced with like. them actually trying to catch the killer. and then of course the emotional aspect of how Jason's baggage with Bruce works into all of it. also want Tim to have a mild hero worship for "the great Detective Dick Grayson" while being clueless that he's Bruce's son and Jason's brother. i sort of want it to be Steph-centric, but still have POVs from Tim and Jason just to round out their emotional arcs. i haven't fully decided everyone else who'll be in the fic but i know i want Cass to be a fellow nun and friend of Steph's, Babs to also work at the church, Helena to be Tim's favorite coworker, and possibly for Damian to be around somehow. those roles will probably get more fleshed out when i. watch the damn show tho.

anyway TLDR: religious imagery, body horror, kinky sex, and a mystery that might break everyone psychologically once they get to the bottom of it. i have some very specific scenes and dialogue planned out. probably cannibalism as a metaphor for love thrown in there too. idk i just want these three to be as fucked up as possible and unhinged about each other but fighting their repressed side with their unhinged feral side. and since it doesn't exist by god I'll create it.

[psychicthepsychic-daily]

hood is the ceo of “other people have it worse” /HJ

[reds-skull]

Bringer of Demise

[MAKAROV'S FATE COMIC] [AO3]

When I say I've been thinking about this ever since finishing part 1...

I'm very excited to start a new multi-chapter story, doubly so with revenant AU! I'm not sure how long this will be, but I have a feeling it will be longer than part 1 :)

For those that skipped the side-stories, some details in this chapter refer to them, they're not a must-read to understand, but I heavily encourage it! You're also welcome to read the comic, it shows Makarov and Fate's reactions to the events of part 1...

Now, before I start rambling again... Chapter 1: The Labyrinthine Design of Fate

He always had a sort of scorching at his chest. A never-ending flame, bugs beneath his skin. As if he was burning alive.

As if he never escaped his self-made grave.

Even now, he could feel it, little legs of burning moths climbing up and down his arms, an overwhelming sensation that hasn’t left him in six years-

Except… There, a hand slides over his. Cool, a running river between his fingers. A breath of the void in a world so loud.

Soap smiles. Simon.

“Finally awake, Johnny?”

He buries his face into the pillow, hiding his growing grin. The hand continues to hold his, and that’s all the reasons he needs to continue sleeping.

“Gonna be like that, hm?” the voice hums thoughtfully, “I went to a zoo last month. Wouldn’t recommend, all they had was some dog.”

Soap frowns. He isn’t going to…

“It was a shitzu.”

He groans. “Ye didn’t…” Soap cracks open an eye, staring unimpressed at Simon’s crinkling eyes.

Simon pulls at his hand, making him sit up, “should be honored you’re waking up to my wonderful jokes.” he lets go of him, turning back to his desk. Soap notices the half-filled reports covering it.

Even several weeks later, the 141 is practically sinking under the mountain of paperwork that dropped on them as soon as they returned to the UK.

Soap flops back onto the bed, “rather be sleepin’ than hearing that shite.” Simon doesn’t give him a response, his pen gliding once again on the paper. “Is this one above my clearance as well?”

“No. Just forms to apply for changes in our Revenant documents, again.”

“You’d think they’d figure it out by now…” he turns to stare at the ceiling, an odd feeling in his chest.

The day they met… Lumity, Soap was ecstatic. It was a proof of his and Simon’s eternal connection, breaking the final barrier between them, showing that even the Reapers themselves couldn’t keep them apart.

He’s still glad of that, mind. He would never ask to be separated from Simon. But…

But it’s not something they could hide. As much as Price and Laswell cover for them, to conceal the existence of a whole new Reaper was beyond them.

It’s that uncertainty that scares him. The higher-ups haven’t done anything with them yet, the whole taskforce grounded until the dust settles, but Soap is sure it won’t pass by quietly.

When it comes to him, nothing ever does, it seems.

He turns his head to stare at Simon again. The man he was fated to kill. The way he looks when they’re like this, hidden away from the world and the realms beyond it, when they’re just Johnny and Simon, never stops to mesmerize him. He thinks, if they were perhaps a little different, maybe this would’ve been permanent.

Then again, were they any different, they’d likely be dead by now.

The question ‘why did it choose me?’ is usually screamed in his mind when phantom blood covers his hands, when the answering thought is often ‘it shouldn’t have’. Soap asks himself again, but with curiosity.

How much does Fate know?

“You’re not sleeping again, are you?” Simon asks with a smile in his voice.

Soap gets up, stretching his back, “nothin’ else better to do, is there?”

“Could always help me with reports.”

He side-eyes Simon, “like I said, nothing better to do.”

Simon scoffs, and Soap opens his mouth to goad him to another round of bickering, when a sort of buzzing goes up his spine. Simon’s shuddering back tells him he felt it as well.

“Our Reapers-” Simon locks eyes with him, when the world melts away.

When Soap comes to, the realm is dark. Cold. Words he’d never use to describe his Reaper.

Speaking of… where are they?

“S-Simon?” Soap looks around, finding him a few paces away, his head tilted up. His brows furrow, and he follows his line of sight.

Soap stumbles back, his heart pounding, “what- Buanaiche…?”

Lumity hangs above them, their body twisted, features broken by dark red. Pulled in different directions by the strings, it is as if something was trying to rip each limb apart, as if to separate… Ladder-like patterns and moths weave around the trapped being, light itself bound by crimson lines.

“What happened to you, Reaper?” Simon whispers, fear evident in his voice.

“FATE…… The invader… IT DARED ENTER OUR REALM…”

“Fate did this to you?” Soap’s eyes follow the red strings, where they disappear in the dark fog of Lumity’s realm.

Lumity’s head twitches, and gleaming white light drips from their neck. Soap asks himself, absentmindedly, if Reapers can even feel pain.

“LISTEN CLOSELY REVENANTS… Fate is plotting against us… Against your allies…”

A deafening sound cracks through the still air, making both Soap and Simon clutch at their ears. One of the strings snaps, only to loop back around one of Lumity’s many arms.

“A man with two faces will approach you… He will be an agent of Fate… YOU MUSTN’T FOLLOW HIM.”

“B-Buanaiche…” Soap winces when Lumity lets out a sound no words in any human language can describe, “what is Fate doing to you?”

“I will not bow down to it… I WILL NEVER BOW DOWN TO IT… This is nothing but a show… A petty show…”

Simon pulls at his sleeve, and takes his left hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Be vigilant, revenants… Fate is not alone…

IT IS NOT ONLY US THAT GAZE UPON YOU NOW…”

Before Soap could take another breath, Lumity’s realm swirls, and the only thing left is that which holds his hand, shaking with the same terror as him.

They collapse to the floor, Soap’s breath hitching in his throat. Simon grunts, bringing a hand to his ear to check if it’s bleeding. He looks up at him, and shakes his head minutely.

“We…” Simon starts, swallowing thickly, “we need to find Price and Gaz.”

Soap nods, pushing himself up to stand on numb legs. His mind feels like it’s pulled apart like his Reapers, thoughts forming only to dissipate.

He follows Ghost out of his barracks, his steps loud and sure, even if his fists still tremble at his sides. The hallways are silent, most soldiers out training at these hours. Ghost directs them towards the fields now, where Gaz should be supervising recruits.

As they get closer, a few of them run into the building, their faces red with exertion and heads swiveling around. 

Soap spots Cooper, one of the FNGs he often trains, and calls out to him, “what’s going on with you lot? Why are ye not in drills?”

“Sergeant MacTavish! Lieutenant!” Cooper shouts, the words leaving his mouth in one hurried breath, “They- the revenants on base, they’re all-”

Another recruit butts in, “they all just stopped moving, they’re not reacting to anything!”

Ghost scoffs, pushing between the soldiers to get to the doors. The rookies snap their mouths shut, staring with wide eyes at them as they exit to the training grounds.

Soap didn’t want to believe them, hoping to dismiss their worry off when seeing it himself, but it was exactly as they said.

Most soldiers are moving, gathered around still figures. He can see Gaz from here, his face slack. The few other revenants on base, the majority of them belonging to the Reaper of Flesh, are as motionless as him. 

“They’re all…” Soap mutters.

Ghost’s eyes narrow, “in their Reaper’s realm.”

“Think Fate got them too?” Soap walks towards Gaz, Ghost right behind him.

The recruits surrounding Kyle part for them, Ghost glaring at the ones that tried to shake Gaz, “no, but it can’t be a coincidence.”

Gaz stares at the horizon unblinking. The sight unnerves Soap, even if he knows he looks exactly like that when his Reaper summons him. He can’t recall if he’s ever seen a revenant in this state.

A movement catches his attention, and Soap takes a step back when Gaz’s hands start twitching, his body floating a few inches off the ground, muscles taut. One soldier from the small crowd around them asks, “i-is that normal?”

A moment later, as if an invisible cable snapped, Gaz falls to the ground, knocking the hat off his head trying to dig his fingers into his scalp.

Soap instantly crouches in front of him, noticing in his periphery how the rest of the revenants come to as well, “Gaz? Ye alright?”

Ghost snatches his hand when he goes to place it on Gaz’s shivering shoulder, and addresses Kyle, “Garrick, give me sitrep.”

Gaz shakes his head, a few muted sobs escaping him. “My… My Reaper…” he heaves, “it told me to c-choose.”

“Choose?” Soap prompts him.

“Between Fate and Lumity. Between Makarov… and you.” Kyle finally looks up, his eyes red and tearful, pupil blown, “I chose you. I would never- but my Reaper…” his face contorts, “it was… furious, or not- I don’t know-” he lets out a frustrated huff, “all I know, it wasn’t happy with my choice.”

Ghost offers Gaz a hand, and helps him up. He then turns to the rest of the recruits and snarls, “what are you standing ‘ere for? Get the fuck out of my sight!”

Their little crowd disperses like a flock of birds. Soap picks up Gaz’s baseball cap, brushing the dirt off and handing it to him, “the Reaper of Pull never did like Destruction… You think that’s what the other revenants were asked?” he asks Ghost.

Ghost lets go of Kyle, making sure he can stand by himself, “... Price knows more about how Fate operates than anyone else on base.”

Price’s thoughts leak far before his office even comes into view. They’re nothing but a jumbled mess of images and emotions, and none of them make the rising dread within Soap lessen.

Gaz hasn’t stopped shaking, his steps heavier, like he’s pushing himself towards the earth in an attempt to stay steady. They haven’t spoken a word on the way here, Ghost’s eyes darting around tensely.

Soap himself can’t make heads or tails from this. That buzzing sensation under his skin, that usually forebodes his Reaper pulling him to its realm, hasn’t left. His fingers burn brighter, flames trailing far behind him as they walk.

Ghost doesn’t bother knocking, swinging the door to Price’s office wide open and ushering Soap and Gaz inside before locking it behind them.

Soap looks at their Captain for a few moments, his head in his hands.

“... Price?” Kyle is the first to break the silence. Price lets out a shuddering sigh, and looks up.

The Captain removes his hat, gripping it tightly until his knuckles turn white, “it asked you to choose, I presume?”

Gaz nods, “Mine did, yeah, but… I don’t know about Ghost and Soap-”

“No.” Price cuts him off, tone devoid of any emotion. “Lumity isn’t in a position to ask, are they?” he studies them with narrowed eyes.

Soap stares back, feeling Price’s mind prob at his, picking apart what he saw in Lumity’s realm, what they told them. The warnings, Fate’s strings wrapping around light like spiderwebs.

“I met Makarov once, over a decade ago.” Price explains as he retreats from Soap’s thoughts, “we didn’t know it was him, at the time. But he knew we were coming.”

“He showed me what his powers can do, a fraction of his Reaper’s. In all my years, I’ve never read a mind quite like his.”

“What did you see?” Soap can’t help but ask, fear warring with curiosity. Makarov is an enigma, one they only know one thing about.

The Revenant of Fate is always several steps ahead.

Price closes his eyes, hands coming up to message his head, “he showed me my own fate. Showed me people I haven’t even met yet, dead at my feet. We were lucky, according to my Reaper, until now. Fate didn’t have much interest in Humanity.”

Something dreadful seeps into his gut, and Price doesn’t open his mouth when the next words appear in their brains.

“Now, it saw something that caught its attention.”

“IT IS NOT ONLY US THAT GAZE UPON YOU NOW”

… What have they done…?

Price fills Gaz in, about Lumity’s warning. They speak among themselves in hushed voices, debating on who could possibly be a traitor, what can be done to weed them out. Talking aimlessly, as they don’t know enough about the situation to figure anything out yet. Anything is better than the suffocating silence, though.

Soap found himself staring at the grout lines of the tiled floor, thoughts such a jumbled mess even Price stirs clear from his mind. Ghost isn’t deterred, however, and has been a constant presence by his side. As he has been, for the last few months.

Soap thinks he would’ve had an easier time accepting this if he was the one destined to die. But Ghost? He’d never regret not killing him.

It angers him, to the point he has to keep his entire focus on minimizing his flames - who gave Fate the right to decide who he kills?

How much power does Fate hold? Is it the one that decided who becomes a revenant, and who doesn’t?

If Fate can capture a Reaper, there’s no limit to what it can do to them.

Cool fingers wrap around his left hand, white fire heedless of the scarred skin. Soap looks up at Ghost, humming a question.

“Remember our promise.” is all Ghost says, and somehow that’s all Soap needs to take a mental step back, and breathe in deeply.

Soap echoes his words from weeks ago now, spoken under the warm glow of a fancy restaurant, with the same hand in his.

“Together.”

They hear a throat clearing after a few minutes, Price motioning for them to sit next to his desk.

“Before… This happened, I was planning on notifying you of something.” Price starts, his eyes locked onto Ghost’s, “Laswell and the higher-ups consulted Doctor Novikov about Lumity, and have come into the conclusion you two need to redo your revenant tests.”

Ghost scoffs, leaning back in his chair to sneer, “what is he going to tell us that we don’t already know? He didn’t know a bloody thing about Void before it merged, doubt he has any new revelations he could share with us.”

The Captain sighs heavily, and Soap gets the feeling this isn’t the first time a conversation of this sort happens between these two, “it’s part of the protocol, Simon. Or at least as much protocol that can be salvaged in your case.”

Soap leans in to half-whisper in Gaz’s ear, “ye know this… Novikov? The fuck’s he a doctor fer?”

Gaz blinks at him for a second, before reeling back, “you- you don’t know Novikov??”

“No???” Soap frowns, turning around to see Ghost and Price stopped arguing. “How do ye know him?”

“He’s been the head Spiritulogist of the SAS for the last… what was it, ten years, Price?”

“Over a decade, been here since before I was Reaped.” Price says incredulously, “I know your file’s been redacted to hell and back son, but don’t tell me you never even been through your basic revenant testing?”

Soap shakes his head, “they never sent anyone to examine me… I assumed they didn’t need to check my limits, with…” the words die on his tongue, and Price redirects his thoughts before they can go down a dark path.

“I worked with Novikov for as long as I’ve been a revenant. He’s good at what he does.” the Captain says, ignoring Ghost’s growl.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never met a Spiritulogist, mate.” Gaz gently elbows him with a small grin.

Soap sneaks another glance at Ghost, noting his stormy eyes, before answering, “I did, never about my own powers. Don’t think any o’ them had clearance.”

Ghost murmurs, “saved you several headaches.”

“Well,” Price slaps his knees, getting up from his chair, “there’s always a first for everything. Novikov got cleared by Laswell, so I assume he has enough information to assess you. He’s due to arrive at any moment, let’s take it to the tarmac.”

They follow him out of the office, Ghost walking ahead, irritation practically fuming out of him. Whatever past this Novikov has with Simon, it can’t be good. Then again, Ghost seems to dislike him more based on his profession, than the man himself.

The tarmac isn’t as hectic as it usually is. Soap attributes that to the earlier revenant incident, he personally knows at least three technicians bearing the revenant status working here. There are some gruesome ways to die dealing with aircrafts, that’s for certain. He gets reminded that of the day Gaz told him the story about his Reaping.

Soap hated the blank stare he had back then, guilt a mirror image of his own. Felt an instant connection to him, and hypocritically wanted to tell him he has nothing to be guilty of. Well, maybe not so hypocritically. Gaz would never do what he did.

The helo carrying Novikov has already started descending by the time they arrive. Ghost is a menacing shadow at his side, anger not subsiding in the short walk to here. Soap had to stop himself from asking about it multiple times. He doesn’t think he’ll get more than a grunt from Ghost at this state.

Price approaches the helo as it lands, probably greeting Novikov with his powers. When the loading ramp lowers, Soap watches a short, plump man walk down to shake hands with the Captain.

The first thing Soap clocks in from the man is that he has never been in an active war zone. There’s a lack of awareness the Doctor emanates, his focus not straying from the person in front of him, despite being surrounded by several SAS soldiers, and one very disgruntled, skull-faced revenant.

Price eventually returned to them with Novikov and several other people Soap can only assume are his assistants. Ghost steps closer to him, practically gluing himself to Soap’s side. He leans in to nudge his arm, silently asking him to relax, if only for a moment.

“Lieutenant Ghost, Sergeant Garrick, it is good to see you.” Novikov greets, Gaz reaching to shake his hand. The Doctor offers it to Ghost as well, but all the masked man does is glare at him.

Novikov seems undeterred by the Lieutenant’s hostility, and turns to Soap, “Sergeant John MacTavish,” Soap finally places his accent as Russian, “I don’t believe we’ve been acquainted yet.”

Soap shakes his right hand in the air, momentarily extinguishing its flames, before shaking the Doctor’s hand, “we haven’t.”

Novikov’s grip tightens, and he lets go of Soap’s hand, “I will be honored to be the one to test your powers for the first time, Sergeant. It is not common for revenants to skip those, as you can imagine.”

There’s an almost bitter note to his last sentence. Soap doesn’t like that he feels like Novikov has been waiting for this opportunity for a long, long time.

The words of Lumity have been etched to his heart, burned a hole in his consciousness, began a downward spiral nothing, not even the memory of Ghost’s hand in his, can stop.

Soap watches the Doctor leave, not before a promise to test them first thing in the morning, tomorrow, and he wonders.

He wonders if this, too, is part of the labyrinthine design of Fate.

[pupyr0arz]

Okay, I just finished reading your kidnapper!Gaz cuddling story and it gave me an idea! In the story Gaz loves to gift the reader perfume. What if the reader tries to stalk up on perfume before drinking it protest or as a suicide attempt?

content warnings: suicidal ideation, attempt at suicide, self harm. Also kidnapping emotional abuse all that good stuff.

Is this super realistic? No. W/e.

At first it’s unthinkable. Sure, your life sucks but it’s not that bad. You’re just a moody person, you’ve never actually really considered killing yourself. You’re not like that. You float through life, unattached to your own melancholy. Other people have mental problems. Other people are reckless, pitiable, saveable—

You’re not sure when it occurs to you, no clock or windows to track the degradation of your thoughts into increasingly desperate plans. You think about breaking the mirror, taking a glass shard and

You think about attacking him. You think about smearing blood and distracting him to get out. You look into his warm brown eyes and wonder what might happen. Would he look concerned then, like he does when you shrink away from his touch? Or would he drop his sweetness, prepare to sweep you away like any other of his victims?

Would he cry?

Would anyone cry when they read the news report? Would you get a book? Would the police find anyone at all to tell the news? Would they ever find your body?

The mirror isn’t glass. Your hand shrinks away, almost ashamed to be caught, to be predicted. You don’t touch it again, like it left some mark on you that would reveal your thoughts to him. He doesn’t change, still talking to you sweetly and waiting for you to crawl towards him like a tame animal.

You don’t think about killing yourself. You think about seeing him cry. The picture is stuck in your minds eye almost obsessively. He’s pretty, you’ve gotten that out of the way. Handsome enough that kidnapping someone is ridiculous if he actually wants a companion, but he’s pretty with soulful brown eyes that almost always look cheerful. He comes to your ‘room’ in glowing moods, smiling and laughing, an endless outpouring of care.

You think about him crying more than killing him and escaping. His proclamations of love burn your skin and dig into your bones and worst of all they addle you more than anything he could put into the food. You don’t understand them. You don’t understand him.

Would it be a few tears, would he let them fall at all?

It’s the source of your suffering and your shame and your destruction. The spawning ground for the corruption that twisted your world into a miserable cycle of the same wall and the same face and stripped reality of its base meanings.

Would he make a sound, let out a gasp or cry out?

You want to take it, the burning ember that set your life ablaze, and crush it. You want to cut his throat and tear out his vocal cords. You want his heart to stop in his chest. You want to get out of the room.

Would he berate himself?

Salvation comes to you in disguise, cupped within your tormentors hand. You eye your collection of shining bottles by day. You only have the one chance. You wait until he’s waited for you to finish your plate.

Would he cry for you?

——————————

It’s warm.

You’re floating.

The water is warm.

Your arm hurts.

When you open your eyes, you’re not dead. You’re in the bathtub, floating in a comfortable bath instead of sitting on the bed sipping from perfume bottles. Your mouth tastes sweet, your throat aches. When you look over at your arm, there’s a needle in it connecting to one of those bags in the hospital they always have on sitcoms.

You’re not dead.

You look back up at the ceiling, not wanting to think about the needle in your flesh. Not wanting to think about him saving you. Not wanting to think about tipping the small sampler bottles back over and over. You don’t want to think. You don’t want to be here. You don’t want to be home.

“Sweetness, baby, I was so goddamn worried. Why would you ever do that to yourself? Love, please, oh don’t cry, don’t cry sweetheart. I got you help, we’ll work through this together.”

He appears at some point, time long discarded by your scrambled brain. He shushes you, wiping away the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, soothing you with sweet nonsenses like a startled horse.

“I won’t let this ever happen again, okay? We’ll—I’ll fix it. I love you so much. Dove, look at me, look. I love you so goddamn much you don’t know how bad you scared me, sweet.”

His hands are warm, like the bath. You feel sick. He pushes a straw in your face and mindlessly, like before, you sip the artificial juice. He leans in and quickly presses his lips to your cheek. They’re soft.

You dare to look at his face and force your eyes to focus. Because you’re stupid, the kind of stupid to not notice someone follow you home or outsmart one lone man, the kind of stupid to not even manage to die.

Garrick’s eyes are brown and wet and red.

Garrick kisses your cheek again. You wonder if your tears taste sweet like his do.

[abimee]

old yaoi fanfiction that was written between like 2006-2016 has such intense misogyny to it that its like potently unreadable but heres the thing; some modern-day yaoi has this same exact problem starting back up and i think we need to chase these people with hammers because we already have issues of gay people my age and around it re-igniting ancient misogynistic texts (ie rehashing that ''i dont care for yuri/any f/f shipping because im not attracted to women'' which is an INSANE TAKE if you took a moment to hear your own words) so to open up a fanfic in the year of 2024 with two dudes fucking and getting blasted bt misogyny is enough to drive me to drink

[skyward-floored]

OKAY ITS DONE here, Incredibles au thing that got way too long, and I had to force myself not to add more. It was supposed to be just a short little sickfic darnit. Takes place maybe year after Lost Time, but it doesn’t have much to do with it. That’s just where things are time-wise XD

Minor warning for some throwing up, it’s not graphic, but it’s there.

Ao3 link

————————————————————

Warriors covered his mouth as he let out a huge yawn, absently pouring cereal into his bowl while he listened to the rain patter relentlessly against the window.

Being forced to get up so early for school was an absolute crime in his opinion. He didn’t really mind getting up on the earlier end of things, but it was barely even light outside, not to mention a dreary, wet sort of day that nobody should have to go out in.

Warriors wished it was an actual crime. Then he’d have an excuse to do something about it.

“I won’t be here when you guys get home from school, I’ve got patrol and a double-shift,” Time apologized as he walked past the table, grabbing a bag with his lunch in it as he pulled on his coat. “If you need anything after school you can ask Gaepora, okay? And if anything serious happens—”

“Don’t worry about it Time, we’ll be fine,” Warriors said with a wave. He’d been so clingy since Majora. “You better go before you’re late.”

Time sighed, and made the expression Warriors knew was him checking his internal clock. “I know, I know. I’ll see you at dinner, have an uneventful day at school,” Time teased, and ruffled Warriors’ hair all over the place before heading out the door.

Warriors grumbled as the door shut, spending the next several minutes smoothing his hair back down. He then went back to eating his cereal and staring mindlessly at the puzzle on the back of the box, koroks smiling as they danced around a word search.

Nothing like a dumb puzzle and cold cereal to get the brain going for the day.

The words had all been found but one (he couldn’t find crispy anywhere, which was ironic, because his cereal hadn’t been crispy even before he’d dumped the milk on it), and Warriors was about to see what had happened to his brother when a creak above him signaled Sky finally getting out of bed.

Cutting it a little close, Warriors thought as he glanced at the clock. Sky was a sleepy guy, but he was usually up before now. They’d have to rush to make it to the bus stop on time.

Sky trailed down the stairs as Warriors grabbed his backpack and boots, wings dragging behind him as he yawned.

“Grab an apple or something Sky, we need to go,” he said, pulling his scarf over his shoulders, and Sky mumbled a reply, stifling a cough in his arm.

Warriors paused at the lackluster response, and watched as Sky grabbed a handful of cereal, nibbling on it as he slowly retracted his wings and pulled down his shirt. He movements were slow as he began pulling on his rain gear, and Warriors raised an eyebrow.

“You good Sky?” he asked, giving him a suspicious look.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Sky answered, with a bright smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just... just tired. I didn’t sleep the best.”

Warriors looked him over again, noticing that Sky’s normal eye bags were darker than normal, and how his face looked a little pale. It might have been Warriors’ imagination, but he thought he might have been shaking a little as well, and as he stared, Sky sneezed harshly into his arm.

“Gesundheit. Sky are you sure you’re okay? You... could always stay home,” Warriors suggested, but Sky shook his head, slipping on his own boots and backpack.

“I’m fine Wars, I’m not staying home because I didn’t sleep enough,” he scoffed lightheartedly. “Quit worrying, ‘m fine.”

Warriors met his gaze, and Sky met it in turn, the look in his eyes almost daring him to keep pressing the issue. But Warriors couldn’t really prove anything, and without Time as backup, there was no way he’d be able to get Sky to stay at home, even with his growing suspicion that there was something wrong further than too little sleep.

“...if you’re sure,” Warriors finally said, still feeling suspicious.

“Positive,” Sky assured, then gave him a smile as he walked past him out the door into the chilly, wet morning.

Warriors watched him go, then followed afterwards, a lump of worry settling into his gut.

(...)

Warriors and Sky didn’t share many morning classes, so once they got to school, Warriors spent most of his time worrying about him from a distance, trying to catch glances of him in the hall, and debating if his worry was really justified.

After all, Sky sometimes just didn’t sleep well. He had nightmares the same as Warriors did, and sometimes they were bad enough to keep him up at night. A singular sneeze and a few unsteady movements really weren’t a sign of anything wrong.

There really was no reason for him to still be worrying over Sky, and by the time lunch had rolled around, Warriors had mostly silenced the little voice in his head that was fretting.

Until he actually saw Sky, anyways.

Warriors caught sight of his brother from across the room, and froze, entirely forgetting about the growling in his stomach. Sky looked absolutely awful from where Warriors could see him sitting, paler than this morning and quite obviously not touching his lunch. The worry roared back to life in Warriors’ stomach, and he slipped past the crowds of people in the cafeteria and joined his side.

Sky was arguing with Sun over something, and didn’t notice him walk up, until Warriors touched his shoulder anyways. Then he startled and looked over, and Warriors grew even more worried.

Up close he could see Sky’s cheeks were flushed, in stark contrast to the pallid tone of the rest of his face. He was noticeably trembling now, and Warriors grabbed his arm, giving him an intent look.

“Sky, you look terrible,” he said worriedly, and Sky frowned.

“Gee, thanks,” he grumbled, looking annoyed. “Everybody keeps saying that.”

“Probably because you look like death warmed over,” Sun said from next to him, her face full of worry. “Seriously Sky, it couldn’t hurt to have the nurse check you out, right?”

“I said I’m fine,” Sky said shortly, and poked at his sandwich a bit.

“I think Sun is right,” Warriors replied, then tried to tug Sky to his feet. “We should go see the nurse.”

“I’m fine Wars, how many times do I have to say it?” Sky said sourly, but Warriors could hear the rasp in it now, and the lump of worry in his stomach grew.

“Sky, you’ve been looking worse and worse all day,” Sun said, getting to her feet as well, “I really think you should go see the nurse. Now.”

“I think so too,” said one of the other people at the table, an older boy named Pipit. The girl next to him nodded as well. “Sky, you look awful.”

“I’m fine!” Sky snapped, then immediately looked ashamed at the outburst, turning away from the table with his arms crossed tightly over his stomach. “Seriously guys, just leave me alone, I’m okay,” he mumbled, and Warriors exchanged looks with Sun.

He carefully extended a hand and placed on Sky’s forehead, his stomach falling at the heat radiating off of it. Sky looked even shakier than he had been now that he was standing up, and Warriors decided that enough was enough.

“Sky, you need to see the nurse, you’re burning up,” he said firmly, and began to tug him away.

Sky tugged back though, and Warriors was surprised at how strong his grip was despite how much his hand was shaking.

“No I don’t,” Sky bit back, and Sun stood up as well.

The rest of the people at the table they’d been sitting at were staring openly now as Warriors tried to tug Sky away, but his brother was putting up quite the struggle despite how awful he looked.

“Sky please,” Sun begged, going to Warriors’ side and helping him pull at their stubborn friend. “We’re worried about you, you almost fell over earlier in Science! Can you just—”

“Hey Sun!”

“Oh not now,” Sun groaned under her breath as a boy with large red hair sauntered up to their table, trailed by two other boys.

Groose, the most annoying person in the entire school in Warriors’ opinion, took in the scene with his hands on his hips, eyes trailing over Warriors and Sun with their arms on Sky, who was shivering openly now and looking less pale and more green.

He burst into mocking laughter.

“What the heck are you losers doing now?” Groose snorted, and jabbed Sky in the chest. “Looks like little Sky isn’t doing so hot, huh? He need some chicken soup and a kiss on the forehead to feel all better?”

Groose smirked down at Sky as his lackeys laughed, but it was at that moment that Sky lost the battle against his body.

He put a hand to his mouth, and Warriors barely had time to figure out what was about to happen and get out of the way before Sky lurched over and emptied out everything that was in his stomach... right on to Groose’s shoes.

There was a split second of silence as shock passed over Groose’s face, his eyes wide as he stared down at his ruined sneakers.

And then the cafeteria broke into pandemonium as Groose began yelling, his lackeys jumping backwards with disgusted looks on their faces. Kids were hollering at the sight and those that hadn’t seen were trying to figure out what had happened, and at least one adult was yelling for order. But Warriors’ focus was solely on Sky, who was shivering so hard it looked like he was about to collapse where he was still bent over.

Sun handed him a napkin to wipe off his mouth with, and Warriors put an arm on his shoulder again and attempted to steer him out of the cafeteria, Sun doing the same on his other side.

There was so much going on it was difficult to make any headway though, people pointing and worrying and laughing at what had happened. Right as Warriors was about to start shoving people, a larger hand settled on Sky’s back, and steered all three of them out into the hallway.

Warriors looked up to see Mr. Owlan, one of the teachers Sun’s father worked with, who was looking at the three of them with a concerned expression.

“Mr. Owlan? Why aren’t you at the high school?” Sun asked confusedly, and the teacher hummed.

“I was here to substitute for the morning, one of the science teachers is sick. I suppose it’s a good thing I stayed for lunch,” he said as he looked at the three of them.

Warriors swallowed. “We weren’t trying to do anything except get Sky to come see the nurse,” he quickly explained, and Owlan nodded.

“I’m aware. You three weren’t exactly being quiet. I was actually about to come over before Sky... gave us a very good reason for why he needs to go to the nurse.”

Sky moaned a little, and Owlan’s face softened as he studied him, placing a wrist on his forehead and frowning when he noticed him shivering.

“I’ll call your brother and see about getting Sky home. He—”

“He’s working, you won’t be able to reach him,” Warriors interrupted, then winced slightly at Owlan’s expression. Time would be on patrol about now, and Warriors didn’t want Owlan to call him and be treated to the sound of his older brother beating up bank robbers or something.

Their teacher lowered his arm from Sky’s forehead, and leveled Warriors with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s completely unavailable?” he asked in a disapproving voice.

“Yes, but we live next door, my father can come and take him home,” Sun quickly put in. Owlan blinked at her earnest expression, then chuckled a bit.

“That certainly sounds like your father. In that case, I’ll go call him and see about getting Sky picked up,” he directed at Sun and Warriors, and they nodded as he folded his hands behind his back. “In the meantime, I think you two should take him to the nurse’s office. He can rest there until he can be picked up.”

“Thank you Mr. Owlan,” Sun said politely, and Warriors gently tugged Sky away, Owlan turning and heading for his office.

Warriors and Sun guided Sky down the hall and towards the nurse’s office, the hallways feeling strangely quiet after the cacophony of the lunchroom. It wasn’t until they reached the door of the nurse’s office that Sky finally spoke, and when he did, his voice was small and embarrassed.

“I really thought I could make it through the day,” Sky whispered, and Sun gave him a look.

“I don’t know how,” she said with an eye roll, but gave Sky’s arm a warm squeeze as they went inside. “How are you feeling Sky? Really feeling?”

Warriors watched Sky as they sat down on a bench inside the office, his brother hesitating. But after a moment his shoulders slumped in defeat, and he rubbed a hand against his face.

“...Pretty bad,” he murmured finally. “I just feel... dizzy. And achy, kind of. Stomach hurts.”

“Are you going to be sick again?” Warriors asked quietly, and Sky gave him a tiny shrug.

“Not right this second,” he mumbled, looking miserable. Warriors frowned, and looked around for anyone coming before coating his hand in just a bit of ice, resting it on Sky’s forehead.

Sky leaned into the touch with a sigh, and Sun squeezed his arm before getting up and going down the hall to get Sky some water. In the meantime, Warriors and Sky waited in silence for the nurse to finish whatever it was she was doing and see them.

Warriors couldn’t help but watch Sky as they waited, a faint look of discomfort on his brother’s face. His raspy breathing seemed louder in the quiet of the office, and Warriors held back a sigh as Sky coughed.

So much for an uneventful day at school.

“Why didn’t you want to just stay home, Sky? It would’ve been okay,” he asked quietly. Sky looked down at his feet, not replying for several moments.

“I didn’t want to bother Time,” he whispered. “You and him have done so much for me, and he would have had to stay home and you’ve been dealing with a lot lately, I...”

He shook his head, and coughed into his arm.

“...I didn’t want to add to it,” he mumbled.

“Time wouldn’t have minded, Sky,” Warriors said gently, and Sky kept looking at his feet. “We’re your family you know, we take care of each other. Even if it means missing a day or two of work.”

“His work is important,” Sky mumbled, and Warriors squeezed his arm.

“So are you, Sky.”

His brother swallowed again, but didn’t resist when Warriors tugged him over to lean on his shoulder.

Sun came back with a cup of water for him only moments later, and Sky gladly rinsed out his mouth. Warriors thought he looked a better after sipping the rest, a little less sickly-looking and pale. Though that might have just been the lighting in the room.

“You know, I feel a little bad for Groose, but... his face was pretty funny, wasn’t it,” Sun said after a minute, her lip twitching.

“He’s going to be so mad the next time he sees us,” Warriors replied with a held-back snicker, mind flashing back to Groose’s expression of utter shock.

“I’m never gonna hear the end of it,” Sky groaned. Warriors looked over at him, but Sky was smirking, a glint in his eye. “I just hope he doesn’t make me buy him new shoes.”

Warriors let out a snort, and he and Sun both broke into laughter, Sky joining them after only a moment.

All three were still laughing when the nurse finally came out to see them.

[quietwingsinthesky]

doctor who human!au with multiple doctors but they’re all named by their numbers because they’re all trans and picked them out theirselves.

[blossoms-phan]

i have so much shit to do and unpack and launder and my skin is awful and I don’t feel comfortable in my body too many things are coming up this is my first year of not being a student after like 15+ years of it and I’m so out of my depth I need to apply to jobs AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH