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tricksterlatte · 9 months

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Akeshu Holiday Heist Special WIP

This was going to be a oneshot sequel to my completed Persona 5 Akechi/Joker fanfic, Chase the Joker, set nearly one year after the ending. While I still have a few oneshots set in their future planned, this one's entire concept was changed, and the fic was scrapped. Since I had fun writing their banter, I'm going to post the WIP here anyways. You can read underneath the cut! As it's incomplete, there is no concrete ending to this segment at this time.

Sometimes, life could feel just like a Christmas movie. One could find the true meaning of holiday cheer amidst the chaos, no matter who they are or where they came from. It was a special time of year, and whether people celebrated or not, sometimes beautiful magic happened.

Joyful moments could be shared underneath the tree as families discover the true meaning of the holiday season, whether related to Santa Clause, the meaning of life, or Kentucky Fried Chicken. True love could be discovered underneath the mistletoe, all while some coworker’s annoying as hell kids at the office Christmas party went ooh or help me or perhaps ew, gross much? On occasion, the stars aligned just right each December, and picturesque moments captured in the mind’s eye forever would feel just like the more diverse Hallmark movies. All three of them, if you were being generous.

It was at these times one must remember Die Hard was also a Christmas movie…which was the evidence Akira needed to utilize for their current situation, no matter how Goro denied it, all while they drove towards some rich bastard’s Christmas bash on a hellbent mission.

Car rides anywhere were enjoyable as long as they were with each other, and in the end that was all Akira could ask for. As Goro rambled on and on about cultural variations of the holiday, and how supposedly none of them involved homicide, Akira just held back laughter while applying the reddest lipstick known to man. He hadn’t ever worn a cocktail dress before today, but no one could deny he looked incredible. He was dressed to the nines in luscious red, a silky wig, and enough makeup that not even his own parents would recognize him, and yet it wasn’t technically for a date. What a homophobic shame dealt to him by the gods themselves.

…Okay, his parents hadn’t seen him in years, and the last time had been Goro punching his father in the face. It was better stated that not even his cat would recognize him, but Akira didn’t want to think about that either. So instead he just bickered with the man he loved.

“Honey, listen,” Akira countered, after Goro ranted for the entire length of some bubbly kpop song about being merry and happy. “I know you pride yourself on being right about everything, and I support you unconditionally, but have you ever considered you’re totally wrong about literally everything? We are living out a Christmas movie right now. I’m right.”

“Stating I’m wrong without providing actual evidence as to why again, Akira?” Goro said with an eye roll, though his rolling eyes struggled to stay focused on the road when Akira’s dress kinda showed his upper thigh. “You would not have lasted one week in a university setting’s debate team, and it shows.”

“Hey, neither of us went to college, on account of me being a sexy criminal superstar and you being sexy and also super dead. At least I read dozens of books on mythology and cultural figures when we still had the Nav,” Akira said right back. “I’m a master debater–”

“I swear if you say ‘and also a masturbator,’ I’m hitting the brakes at mach speed.”

“I mean no, I don’t need to do that when we’re in the same room twenty-four hours a day. Wow, you have such a dirty mind, did you know that?”

Goro finally stared not at the road nor Akira’s legs, but a secret third thing–his smug, stupid face, so he could shoot Akira the nastiest of glares. “Quite the talk from someone who made a kidnapping roleplay joke months after literally being kidnapped.”

Okay, that had been one time. And they were not talking about it. Not if Akira could help it. He finished applying the last of his makeup and examined himself in the mirror. If looks could kill, Akira wouldn’t need a knife tonight. Tragically, he still needed a knife, but at least he was pretty.

“I never joked about that again, give me and my coping mechanisms some credit. Anyways, enough talk about my abduction. Ever heard of Krampus? He’s like the Mementos Grim Reaper used to be, except real, and festive, and I’m pretty sure he murdered children. How’s that for Christmas cheer?”

“I appreciate the sentiment behind a morally dubious Christmas special, but…Krampus aside, the holiday genre as a whole is ill-suited for activities such as murder, once we put aside frequently debated titles. There is a reason films such as Die Hard and American Psycho are commonly dismissed from a place among happy-go-lucky Christmas movies, and that’s due to them only portraying the holiday as background noise in favor of an action plot. It’s only a timestamp when all is considered, nothing more.”

God, Goro was so pretentious. No wonder Akira was in love with him. Here they were, driving towards some multimillionaire’s holiday party with a heist in mind and also assassination if push came to shove, and yet Goro was blasting some American artist’s holiday music on the Jokermobile speakers and discussing American fucking Psycho versus the concept of Christmas cheer. If he wasn’t wearing nondescript black clothing and gun holsters, Akira would blame the irritated snarl gracing Goro’s face on this Michael Buble person singing some no homo anthem about his buddy Santa.

Akira just giggled in his best falsetto, preparing himself for whatever crossdressing shenanigans he had to pull for their mission tonight, and flipped his wig over his shoulder. Brief little moments of domestic bliss were nice after everything, even if most people wouldn’t get it.

“Okay, ignore the murder then. We’re still living in a real life romcom whether you think my jokes are funny or not, since my entire life is a joke.” Another unimpressed squint as Goro kept his eyes on the road. The self-deprecation didn’t hit like it used to for either of them. Damn their efforts to rebuild Akira’s self-esteem. Those efforts were getting in the way of dark humor! “It’s December 24th, we’re on our way to crash a Christmas party, and we are romantic and comedic. We even took that don we now our gay apparel song to heart, come on!”

Goro snorted, ever the long-suffering, disgruntled man in the face of whatever the fuck Akira was doing. “That can be said for your outfit tonight, but I don’t recall a black turtleneck ever winning one of those ridiculous ugly Christmas sweater contests.”

“No, see, you’re just dressed like the gay goth cousin who sits at the kids’ table during family gatherings because he hates his homophobic relatives.” Akira knew this because he had once been the gay goth cousin who sat at kids’ tables during their rare family gatherings because he hated his homophobic relatives.

Goro looked from Akira, to the road, to their GPS. His brow furrowed and he bit his lip once he saw how little time was left until their arrival. The plan had been for Goro to park the car and follow behind closely, and Akira would do the actual infiltration with a fake identity and a fake adoration for being surrounded by the rich and pompous. The flashy getup was excessive, in Goro’s opinion, but plenty of Shido’s affiliates, and therefore Goro’s whether he liked them or not, were occupying this little gala. Of the two of them, Akira was less likely to be recognized, especially when dressed like this.

That didn’t mean Goro was fond of the idea whatsoever, but that was only one stressor among the many weighing them down tonight. As Goro parked the car, Akira finalized his appearances one more time, double-checking his heels were just short and thick enough that he could still run in them, and that not a hair looked out of place.

He only became aware of his nervous expression when Goro turned off the radio. Turning to face his partner in crime, he saw anxiety reflected back at him, and Akira gulped down a lump in his throat. “Hey,” Akira said, reaching over to grab Goro’s hand as it held the steering wheel in a vice grip. “I know this time of year is stressful for everyone, but I’m going to be okay–”

“Are you okay, though?” Goro cut him off, flexing his fingers before letting go of the wheel. He squeezed his eyelids shut and visibly fought to unclench his jaw. “You’ve spent the entire car ride cracking ridiculous jokes and making up your own lyrics to every damn orchestra cover that played on the radio, but if you’re trying to hide how nervous you are, you’re not doing a great job. I thought we talked about this.”

Akira winced. Keeping secrets hadn’t been his goal at all, but he couldn’t blame Goro for that train of thought. Old habits die hard, whether trauma was involved or otherwise. He flopped back against the headrest, shifting their hands so their fingers intertwined. Even with gloved hands, the grip grounded both of them. “I wasn’t doing it on purpose. I just know if I think too much about the worst case scenarios, I won’t be able to focus on anything else. I’m worried about you too, though. What’s wrong? Is it about splitting up?”

The telltale twitch of Goro’s hand was all the answer Akira needed. He stayed silent and gave Goro a moment to find his words, taking in his harrowed expression as Goro’s thumb brushed across the various scars all over Akira’s hand. Goro had always wielded words masterfully on television and even in battle, whether they were honeyed vinegar or vulgar curses, but words conveying his innermost feelings still didn’t come easily. Akira wasn’t good at sharing his burdens purposefully either just yet, but they were trying.

They were both getting better about trust and honesty, but sometimes Akira worried parts of them would always be trapped in the past, terrified of losing one another, or maybe in some long-lost Palace there was Goro, kneeling on some bloody floor or panicking in a hotel room, or there was Akira, trapped in a diner or tied to a chair in that hellish basement or crawling across frozen earth in a desperate rush because he couldn’t let him die, not here, not again–

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Akechi’s voice broke Akira out of the spiral before it could properly start. Suddenly Akechi’s head gently bumped into the side of Akira’s, and his thumb rubbed circles against Akira’s knuckles. Right. It was December, in the present day, almost a full year after three no good, very bad days. They were alive. They were okay. “I’ll admit I’m not fond of splitting up. I…I can’t lose you again.” Okay, so maybe Akira wasn’t the only one spiraling over that possibility. “If you no longer wanted to mingle with Shido’s trash, I would gladly take our little getaway car and drive wherever you wish–”

“Nope, I’m still going,” Akira butted in. He wasn’t offended by Akechi’s offer, but he didn’t want to back down now, and he knew Akechi didn’t either. He could do this. It wasn’t like he had to kill a million people, all he had to do was break into some big wig’s computer with a flash drive and then get the hell out of there. Hopefully no one paid attention to him, once they got over the dress and heels. “I have a dagger and I’m not afraid to use it, and I have my earpiece just in case. You have a sword and multiple guns and an actual sniper rifle. Give the both of us some credit! I killed a god three Christmases ago. A little breaking and entering is what the kids call small potatoes.”

Akechi said nothing, but at the rate he was stressing, he would fracture every bone in Akira’s hand, induce heart murmurs faster than you could say four Five Hour Energy shots, and go bald by age twenty-three. Refusing to let the man who was essentially his husband lose all his hair, Akira indulged in their old favorite vice: deflecting and changing the subject. “Also, this isn’t the getaway car. Stop besmirching the good name of our dearly beloved Jokermobile–”

“It’s not a good name at all, Akira,” said Akechi as he forced himself to relax. He didn’t buy the facade, but Akira wasn’t trying to fool him. They both just needed to calm down before they did anything reckless…even if a heist was also reckless. “Your habit of naming inanimate objects is getting out of hand. This isn’t the Jokermobile, it’s a black 2016 Toyota Highlander, and you only named it that because you wanted to make rear-ending jokes.”

Well, it was a good thing they had only been rear-ended by an actual car once, then. Akira took full responsibility for that one, it was his fault for trying to drive with a broken leg. Pour one out for the fire hydrant, the greatest victim of that hit-and-run besides Akira’s psyche. “And yet you never thought of a better name. Checkmate.”

“You’re insufferable,” Akechi sighed.

“I think you meant irresistible, honey,” said Akira.

“Oh, pardon me. I meant to say you’re irritating and irresponsible. My mistake.”

Goro didn’t give Akira time to reply before he unbuckled his seatbelt and inspected his holsters. “Do you have the flashdrive ready to go?” Akira reached into a side pocket of his dress and showed Goro the flash drive, shoving it back inside once Goro nodded. “And your dagger?” He flipped his skirt completely to the side, exposing lacy black underwear on top of the dagger strapped to the thigh lacking a dress slit. Goro forcibly ignored that and interrogated him again like the bastard cop he once pretended to be. “And your earpiece?”

Wow, not even a verbal reaction to his underwear of choice? Bummer. Akira rolled his eyes and gently swept the wig away. Barely visible inside his ear was the earpiece, but it was in place just as planned. Smiling and hoping the red lipstick wouldn’t smudge onto his teeth, he flashed Goro a thumbs up. “Yes, Goro, I’ll hear your illustrious voice loud and clear. What about yours?”

“I put mine on before we left. I came prepared, unlike you.”

“It’s not a competition, Goro.”

“Akira, we turn everything into a competition whether we like it or not.”

God, could Goro stop making good points tonight? He was beating Akira in the argument category of the Rivalry Olympics. Fucker. Conceding for now, Akira pouted as Goro let go of his hand to climb into the back. “Do we have any of those canned coffees left?” he asked while Goro inspected his ammunition.

“I grabbed extra at the 777 earlier, along with some other beverages,” Goro replied, briefly ignoring his mission prep in favor of caffeinating the idiotic love of his life. As Goro reached into their cooler, he continued, “Some are black, some have cream or sugar. How do you want your coffee tonight, my dear Joker?”

“Black like my soul, Crow,” Akira replied, fondly recalling his dear pal Satanael on the anniversary of a god’s death. Goro gave him a long, hard look, then hurled a bottle of milk at Akira’s face. Naturally, Akira caught it with all the proficiency in the universe. Then he hurled it right back at Goro, who snatched it from the air without even looking. Well, if Satanael wasn’t allowed, then Arsene better be. “Fine. Something with French roast, also like my soul.”

#persona 5 #akeshu #shuake #p5 #goro akechi #akira kurusu #tricksterlatte writes #chase the joker #my stuff #I have two other oneshots planned regarding this heist and then this holiday for them. but.#Akechi overexplaining American Psycho to Akira who just thinks he's ridiculous while also being head over heels. it had to be shared #i had to.#this will not make much sense without the original fic btw so if you like this. go read it! look in my pinned

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captainsimagines · 2 years

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pretty woman, this is me trying || five

Summary: Bucky Barnes does not like to be touched. He’s completely ready to live a distant life and give up when the time is right. Until Stark hires him his own personal pretty woman. Over time, Bucky Barnes begins to learn how to touch again. How to feel again. How to love himself again.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female SexWorker!Reader

Trope(s): Holiday Fanfic ; Slow-Burn ; Friends to Lovers

Based on the Song(s): sweet nothing by Taylor Swift and Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

(5/14)

Mini-Series

Warnings: internal thoughts going haywire; soft touches; strong language; slow burn

Word Count: 1,800+

Author’s Note: hehehehee xxMoni

“Did you like it?” you asked Bucky, looking over your kitchen counter with raw cookie dough between your fingers.

Bucky took a while to respond, the top of his head frozen but visible from where he sat on your couch. The credits for the first movie in a series had just ended.

“They spent the whole movie ignoring the fact that he basically killed the first Santa Claus.”

You gasped, slapping dough dramatically back into the mixing bowl. “I wouldn’t say it’s that serious!”

“Dude just disintegrated.”

“It was magic!”

“What was?” Bucky playfully argued, hopping onto his knees and facing you from behind the couch. “The mysterious death or the fact that not one of his elf slaves seemed to mourn?”

You gaped at him, blinking. Placing your hands on the counter, you shook your head. “He didn’t murder Santa Claus. Santa Claus’s were not allowed to fall from the roof. He fell, and he disappeared.”

“He probably had a family.”

“He probably did.”

“It’s an evil movie.”

“But the second one is the best!”

Bucky groaned, throwing his head back slightly. “Are you going to make me watch it?”

“It’ll redeem the first movie, trust me.”

He pursed his lips, not fully believing you. But he would watch it, and eat those cookies you had argued against making because of the fact you had acrylic nails, and he would probably enjoy it. Teasing you seemed to make your voice all squeaky and Bucky absolutely adored that.

“Guess I owe that to you, huh?” Bucky suggested, jutting his chin toward your messy fingers.

You raised your hands at him, flicking him both middle fingers discreetly. “Look at this! Do you know how hard it’s going to be to dig the dough from under these?”

Bucky lifted his metal arm, turning it over a few times. “It would have been Hell digging it from these plates.”

“I’m in distress.”

“And I have a real disability. Now make my cookies.”

You laughed loudly in response to that. It had been a week and a half since your pinky promise in the park. Since then, you two have hung out nearly every single day. Stark hadn’t mentioned anything the first time he noticed, but he did snicker this morning. Not that it bothered Bucky—it was nice knowing that someone knew where he was going and what he was not doing.

You had told Stark that in great detail.

I’m warming the chair next to him this holiday season, Mr. Iron Man. Not his bed.

Wouldn’t be my business even if you were warming his cock too, Miss Renaissance.

Bucky often felt guilty for liking Tony’s crude sense of humor. His playfulness when it came to the dirty. Bucky turned sour whenever he heard the same language from Steve or Clint, even Sam. It was never directed at him, but something felt off.

He expected it from Stark. Stark was a no-strings attached type of guy. It was obvious he was joking. Bucky could tolerate that.

But from Steve… Hearing Steve joke about naughty things made Bucky’s stomach turn.

Steve didn’t know what had happened to Bucky. No one but Stark and Natalia did. So he couldn’t joke with Steve.

Simple as that. His reasoning needed some adjusting here and there, but that’s where it was at the moment.

This was the second time Bucky stepped foot in your apartment. You had let him and Axel in and promised to wait outside for five minutes, letting Bucky scope the place out. Bucky had refused, but he couldn’t hide the uncomfortable curl of his face in response to a strange place. You had simply shrugged and told him to not mess with your books—they were in color-coded order.

Now, as you made him cookies during a binge watch marathon of old Christmas movies, Bucky felt cozy and playful and safe. Your apartment was stuffed to the brim with knick-knacks, personal notes etched into the wood of your computer desk and even in the bathroom door frame. Why you were keeping track of your height progress when you’ve obviously stopped growing, Bucky didn’t ask.

“When I’m done, should we try something interesting?”

Bucky’s eyebrow quirked. “What did you have in mind?”

“Test of trust,” you said as you wiped your hands clean. “Let me braid your hair.”

Bucky startled, his heart beating fast. Axel remained asleep near the mini Christmas tree. “What?”

“It’s something friends do at sleepovers. Mothers braid their daughter’s hair. It builds trust since we put so much of our vanity into our hair. Well, some of us do. But it means I’ll be sitting behind you, giving you gentle touches, doing something people have been doing for centuries.”

The thought of having someone behind him, so close to his head, scared the soul out of him. But this exercise, this level of trust, was at the base of the pyramid he had constructed for himself. He didn’t quite know yet what was stacked on the very top.

“Conditions?”

You nodded, turning momentarily to put the cookies into the oven. “Lay them on me.”

Bucky turned his fingers over in his lap, eyeing his gloves on the coffee table. This could go two ways: 1) He sits through it, he enjoys it, and he climbs a step on his pyramid, or 2) He can’t handle it, he lashes out, and the night ends early.

He desperately wanted a middle option.

“Don’t freak out,” he started, nearly laughing from the way your eyes popped. “I hold my gun in my lap the whole time.”

You shuffled your feet, either trying not to laugh or not to scream. Bucky couldn’t really tell. “The safety will be on, I just… It would make me feel safer.”

“Uh,” you cleared your throat. “What about a mirror?”

“Mirror?”

“I have a full-sized mirror,” you explained, rushing to your bedroom. Bucky watched as you left for a good ten seconds, then returned pushing an actual full-length mirror, studded with diamonds and pictures. “Ignore the photo of shirtless Sam Wilson.”

“Didn’t really notice it until you pointed it out, thanks.”

You pushed the mirror until it was perched next to the television, facing the couch perfectly. You stood in front of it, modeling with your hands on your hips, staring at Bucky through it. “Well?”

“So I’ll be able to watch you.”

“Exactly.”

Bucky met your stare, counting his breaths. You waited patiently. God, he wanted to hug you. You looked like you radiate warmth.

He had been kept in the cold for so long.

“Okay.”

You squealed, rushing back into your bedroom. Bucky laughed quietly to himself, taking his hair out of the poor excuse of a hair bun he wore. He slid to the floor, grabbing a pillow to place underneath himself. The smell of cookies baking calmed him immensely.

You came back with a hairbrush and about a dozen mini multi-colored plastic bands. You stumbled and rolled and stepped on each cushion as you made yourself comfortable.

“I’m right behind you.”

“I can see that,” Bucky responded, his tone more teasing than monotone.

“I’m going to brush your hair first, alright?” you said, shaking the hairbrush.

“Okay.”

Bucky watched the hairbrush meet his scalp—

Watched as you brushed through his long hair. Watched as you wiggled your bare fingers in the mirror before placing them on the skin the hairbrush had touched. Watched as you did it over and over again.

Then as you separated his hair into parts, as you explained the process, as you giggled and told stories about your mom doing this to you.

And as you tugged lightly on the strands, massaged at his roots, and lay each part over each other… Bucky started crying.

“Bucky?”

“Keep going.”

You kept going. Like he asked. Bucky wasn’t sobbing, nor was he full on weeping. But he couldn’t control the stray tears that escaped his eyelids and plopped down into his lap. One after the other, victims of gravity.

You braided his hair into a beautiful french braid, snapping the bands on. You had kept those two strands at the front of his face. Framing his cheeks, a signature.

“Good?”

You tucked your hands away, even laid back into the couch cushions. Bucky yearned for the warmth he had been feeling at his back, for the gentle press of your fingers at his scalp. So he turned around slowly, wiping the wetness from under his eyes, and reached out.

He reached for your hand.

Your breath hitched, surprise drenched over that small sound. You didn’t move for him, to him. You allowed him to reach across the short distance, to stop if need be.

When his skin touched yours, by his own volition, something… Odd, occurred.

His whole spine erupted with pleasant chills, down to the base of his spine, strong enough to curl his toes inside his boots. His metal arm whirred slightly, the only noise besides your short breathing. He dragged his flesh fingers over your knuckles, smoothing out the creases, only to watch them bounce back. He traced the arch of your nails, the perfect acrylics, and waited for his body to reject this feeling. That sudden, smack of vertigo that had him arrested.

But nothing came, nothing so drastic. He felt a little shame crawl up the back of his throat, but it was bearable. It was worth it.

He was touching someone again. Someone who wasn’t actively trying to hurt him.

“Get on the floor.”

He watched as your eyes widened and something worrying flashed across your features.

“I meant,” he stuttered, blushing. “Get on the floor so I can touch your hair now.”

A laugh sputtered from your lips. “You actually scared me for a second.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his smile sheepish. “That was stupid of me.”

“I like authoritative tones. Just, when I’m expecting them.”

In his excitement, Bucky completely disregarded your reaction. Sure, you made a promise to each other that you would let him touch you when he asked, but the invisible lines in between obviously stated that he had to form his words in question format. Orders were not welcome in this relationship, and Bucky cursed himself for not remembering that.

“Can I play with your hair?”

You flushed with young delight, scooting down to the floor. Careful to not touch him more, you situated yourself in between his open knees, hands in your lap and a brilliant smile on your face. Bucky did not use the brush. He didn’t find any need. Instead, he inched higher up on his personal pyramid and used his fingers to separate strands and to feel the texture. To measure opposite parts and tug lightly at the roots. Seeing what his body could handle before it rejected this.

His braids weren’t as advanced as yours, but he was a quick learner. Over time, perhaps in the next week or so, Bucky’s body will let him continue to survive on this gratifying cloud, and he’ll reach your level. For now, he untucked two strands at the very front so they could frame your face.

“Look at that.” You smiled at him through the mirror. The sheer size difference between you two had Bucky swallowing hard. “You made me just as beautiful as I made you.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #pretty woman au #captainsimagines #by Moni #marvel fanfiction #holiday fanfic

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pedrostories · 2 years

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PedroStories Secret Santa event 2022

Dear Fanfic writers and readers,

PedroStories would like to invite you to our very first Secret Santa event! ✨

If you write fanfictions for any Pedro Pascal characters and/or you're a visual art creator (graphics, gifsets, fanart) with a love for our fandom's fanfic writers, this event is for you! You can register here until November 26 (you can expect our message about your giftee a few days later), and the gifters will post their arts on December 23.

We have tagged all the incoming questions and answers about the event with “secret santa questions”, you can search for it on the blog, but if something still isn’t clear, feel free to send us an ask!

For a visual arts specific Secret Santa event (for Mandoverse) you can join @themandaloriandaily‘s Secret Santa event as well.

Please read the rules carefully before submitting your application!

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Join us and spread the word! 🖤

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PS.: Under “Keep reading” You can find an extensive list of writers for the fandom worth following! 😉 If you’re a writer for Pedro characters (or you know about a writer) not on this list, let us know and we’ll update it as soon as possible! ❤

✨ A - C ✨

@221bshrlocked @absurdthirst @aerynwrites @agentwhiskeysdarlin @aliwritesfic @alwaysbethewest @artemiseamoon @asta-lily @astoryisaloveaffair @astroboots @autumnleaves1991-blog @auty-ren @babydarkstar @beskarberry @beskar-cowboy @beskarhearts @bestintheparsec @blueeyesatnight @bluestripedspeedo @boliv-jenta @bonktime @brandyllyn @brewsterispunkk @browneyes-issac @buckyodinson @buttercup--bee @castleamc @chaoticgeminate@charnelhouse @cinewhore @clydesducktape @concussed-to-pieces @corvueros @cptnbvcks @crimsonheart01 @criticallyacclaimedstranger

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@jangofctts @javier-pena @jazzelsaur @jbbuckybarnes @jedifarmerr @jollyrancher87 @juletheghoul @jura-moon @justanotherblonde23 @just-here-for-the-moment @keeper0fthestars @kilojulietsierra @knivesareout @krissology @lannister-slings-and-arrows @laureliciousdefinition @leslie-lyman @letterfromvienna @littleferal @littlemisspascal @loversandantiheroes @lowlights @lunasblipsandblurbs @joel-millerr @mandoalorian @mandoblowmybackout @mandorush @mandosmistress @massivecolorspygiant @mcfreakin-bxtch @miceenscene @misspearly1 @moonlight-prose @moralesispunk @mostly-megan @mothandpidgeon @mourningbirds1 @multifandomfanfiction @musings-of-a-rose

✨ N - S ✨

@no-droids @noisynaia @omgreally @oogaboogasphincter @oonajaeadira @pascalisthepunkest @pedrito-friskito @pedro-pascal-love @pedropascalsx @pedros-mustache @perropascal @pettyprocrastination @princessxkenobi @prolix-yuy @psychedelic-ink @pumpkin-stars @queenofthefaceless @queridopascal @radiowallet @redcrvette @rina-cyarika-writing @rise-my-angel @saradika @scribbledghost @scorpio-marionette @silksaddle @sirowsky @sirtadcooper @sith-maul @slater-baby @softpedropascal @something-tofightfor @songsformonkeys @spookydin @starlightmornings @storiesofthefandomlovers @supernaturalgirl20 @syndxlla

✨ T - Z ✨

@the-blind-assassin-12 @the-ginger-hedge-witch @the-scandalorian @theewokingdead @themand0lorian @themangolorian @the-scandalorian @thewayofthemandalorian @thirstworldproblemss @thosewickedlovelies @thot-of-khonshu @tiffdawg @toomanystoriessolittletime @tropes-and-tales @valkblue @wardenparker @whataperfectwasteoftime @wheresarizona @whiskeynwriting @whistlingbirdie @wordsnwhiskey @write-and-buried @writefightandflightclub @writeforfandoms @wyn-n-tonic @yespolkadotkitty @youvebeenlivingfictional @zeldasayer

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choicesficwriterscreations · 8 months

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Open Heart F/AotW - Jan 28 - Feb 3

✒️= Fanfic | 📱= Text Fics/Edits | 🎨= Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 = LGBTQIA | 🔹Submitted by creator

BRYCE LAHELA

Conversation Hearts ✒️🏳️‍🌈🔹| Bryce Lahela x M!MC - @mydemonsdrivealimo

Your Normal Daily Life Before a Shirt at Edenbrook ✒️| Bryce Lahela x Rafael Aveiro - @choiceswithmika

ETHAN RAMSEY

Broken Heart ✒️🔹| Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @potionsprefect

Falling in Love ✒️🔹|Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @liaromancewriter

A Little Mess 📱🔹| Ethan Ramsey, Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @jerzwriter

OPEN HEART MC

lipstick, quick wit, and a dirty mouth 🎨🏳️‍🌈🔹| OH M!MC - @mydemonsdrivealimo

Open Heart F!MC Fanart 🎨 by @lilyoffandoms for @jerzwriter

RAFAEL AVEIRO

Moving In (Series) ✒️| Rafael Aveiro x F!MC - @rafasgirl23415 Chapter 14: Waiting for Santa

Your Normal Daily Life Before a Shirt at Edenbrook ✒️| Bryce Lahela x Rafael Aveiro - @choiceswithmika

SIENNA TRINH

Open Heart Fanfic Part 1 ✒️| Sienna Trinh & F!MC - @adam-writes-stuff

Open Heart Fanfic Part 2 ✒️| Sienna Trinh & F!MC - @adam-writes-stuff

TOBIAS CARRICK

A Little Mess 📱🔹| Ethan Ramsey, Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @jerzwriter

CFWC Main F/AotW List

#choices fanfic #choices fanart #open heart #open heart choices #bryce lahela #ethan ramsey #rafael aveiro #sienna trinh #tobias carrick #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #cfwc art of the week #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #playchoices fanart #choices stories you play

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sluttysnails334 · 9 months

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south park character holiday head cannons

hey bitches, it's time for my monthly head canon post on this app, this time holiday edition :)

During finals the only people who actually take it seriously are Kyle, and Wendy. Kyle berates Stan to take them more seriously but he doesn't lol

Stan host a holiday party at the farm every year, and it's actually really fun and one of the parts about living on the farm, he enjoys. The entire group plays dirty santa.

Bebe and Wendy, and Butters run a gift wrapping business.

Mrs. Cartman also with Butters help runs baking/cookie business.

Randy, Steven, Thomas, Mr. Mackey, and PC Principal have a "who can have the best Christmas lights in South Park competition" every year

Stan's gang and Craig's gang have an ugly sweater competition every year. Craig's gang always wins, because Tolkien buys the sweaters for them.

Bebe loves All I Want For Christmas is You, and sings it all the time, she even does light Mariah Carey cosplay's during this time.

Stan favorite Christmas movie is The Polar Express because it makes him nostalgic for his childhood. He cries EVERYTIME.

Butter's is involved in a nativity scene in some way, shape or form.

Tweek loves making up new holiday drinks, and forcing Craig to taste them.

Kenny loves Christmas horror movies

All the kids still go ice skating together, well into high school.

Clyde and Bebe, and Tweek and Craig, and Nichole and Tolkien all do a group date to look at Christmas lights together.

Kyle's family celebrates Boxing Day, because of Ike

Tolkien hosts a New Years eve party, and without fail something dramatic will happen, like a break up or cheating or two people finally getting together. Whatever it is will be talked about for the rest of the spring semester.

Stan gets Kyle eight gifts each night of Hanukkah instead of a Christmas present. He slowly starts to learn how to celebrate the holiday, as he dates Kyle.

Craig is very scrooge/grinch coded during the holidays unless he's with/around Tweek. Tweek is VERY into Christmas, and they had their first kiss under the mistletoe. ( I wrote a fanfic about that btw )

Tweek and Craig give each other their Christmas gifts on Christmas Eve. Craig only get's Tweek and maybe his family gifts, Tweek gets gifts for all his friends but not his family.

The Cartman's have a permanently extended invitation to the McCormick's to spend Christmas with them, and they usually accept. Cartman is an angel the entire time, and him and Kenny NEVER talk about it, after the holidays.

#south park #sp headcanons #south park headcanons #tweek tweak #kyle brovlofski #stan marsh #sp creek #sp style #kenny mccormick #craig tucker

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snow-shelter · 1 year

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My highschool recently did newsies as their spring play. I was ensemble and went to damn near every rehearsal, leading me to see a lot of cast dynamics! I was also there for every show. Therefore, I am taking my friends' iterations of the newsies, as well is their in AND out of character dynamics- and making it an AU. Possibly a fanfic?? Shrugs

CHARACTERS & CHANGES

☆ so a good 40% of the cast were girls, which means I am keeping them girlsies for this! Most notable being Specs, Ike, Elmer, JoJo, Darcy and Bill!

☆ given how the cast portrayed these characters, I'm also adding those dynamics into this au! Again, most notably the pure hatred between Katherine & Race. (theater drama with the actors 😔)

☆ also taking into account... Cast appearance & voices. Our Jack, Crutchie and Race were all fucking beanstalks- Davey & Albert as well, just not to their level ykyk. Katherine is dirty blond with highlights- Davey is dusty blond and WIESEL IS GINGER? ;?!?!

☆ there was exactly TWENTY bowery beauties, and they were very interactive with the newsies! Specifically Les and Albert

☆ during scene in Jacobi's, Finch is. Always. Sitting in someone's lap. He doesn't sit on the table or on the benches, he sits on someone's lap. Also, when race offered to "tell wiesel himself" about the strike, Albert picks him up and spins him around and away from wiesel. (accidentally kicking mike in the head during one show)

☆ Ike & Mike are twins, Elmer being their older sister and looking a lot like Mike (actors were irl siblings)

☆ Snyder's actor was actually a sophomore. Family business refuge. Snyder being barely older than the newsies. Yeah.

☆ our jack was a lot more emotionally constipated. He was crying during Santa Fe on the last show and still managed to belt that last note??? Lord. (/pos) he's also very awkward when it comes to his jokes, often falling flat and nervously looking around for a response. He was a mess who I love very dearly

☆ Davey is just tired. He's tired of everyone's bullshit. Very sassy always... Nobody knows what his deal is but yk!! And Katherine is also a lot meaner, more firey. Less professional at some parts, even getting physical with the newsies before KONY

If anyone wants to know more about this pleeeaaaase lmk I'm suc

#newsies au #newsies #mine #my writing

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sunnydaleherald · 9 months

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The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Sunday, December 31st

DARLA: Come on, Dru. Let's have a bath so the boys can weep in private. DRUSILLA: Will you hold me under the water? DARLA: If you wish.

~~The Girl in Question~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Back to December by anonymous Buffyverse Secret Santa participant (Faith & Willow, T)

Girls' Night In by anonymous Buffyverse Secret Santa participant (Cordelia & Fred, T)

Mixed Signals by Coraniaid (Buffy/Faith, M)

in petalous pieces by CallMeVampy (Giles/Jenny, G)

What Fresh Hell Was This? by RachaelJurassic (Giles/Jenny, G)

Lost It All by Jess_Ann_Perreault (Giles/Jenny, G)

Instead, We’re Over Here by Hecate (Faith, T)

Weaker Souls Will Not Escape by Hecate (Faith & Willow, T)

(Money in My Pockets) All I Really Need for a Cheap Romance by Hecate (Teen Wolf crossover, Faith/Kate Argent, T)

Charades by EllieRose101 (Buffy/Spike, T)

Home Is Nowhere, Therefore You by OffYourBird (Buffy/Spike, not rated)

I never wished for nothing by Petra (Doctrine of Labyrinths crossover, Anya, G)

kissing the old year out (kissing the new year in) by aliceinwonderbra (Buffy/Faith, T)

Oh Pacey, you blind idiot by julikobold (Buffy/Spike, not rated)

Happily married by specialagentlokitty (Giles x reader, not rated - worksafe)

Sneaking Around by acekoomboom (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

A friendly beginning by Ronatheslayee (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Tracks in the Snow by ashcrashed (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Yesterday's Chances by violettathepiratequeen (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Secret Slayers by bewildered (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Firelight by bookishy (Buffy/Spike, PG)

The Forbidden Bone by bewildered (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Silent Fight by DarkVoid116 (Buffy/Spike, R)

Silent-ish Night by Behind Blue Eyes (Buffy/Spike, R)

If Not Now, Then When? by SzmattyCat (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Playing Second Fiddle by Wojtekstan (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

You Can Count On Me by BewitchedXx (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

In Too Deep by scratchmeout (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Practice Makes Perfect by MaggieLaFey (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

[Chaptered Fiction]

what she wants - Chapter 1 by The_Eclectic_Bookworm (Giles/Jenny, T)

Dirty Memories, Ch. 1-7 (COMPLETE!) by MaggieLaFey (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only)

First Date, Ch. 1-4 (COMPLETE!) by Acb6293 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

That Gingerbread Feeling, Ch. 1 by VioletMoon (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Pack My Box with Five Dozen Liquor Jugs, Ch. 1 by honeygirl51885 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

[Images, Audio & Video]

The Wish vidlet by baltears (Wishverse Buffy, ensemble)

Drawing: SaltBuffy by davidegenco (Saltburn crossover, Buffy, worksafe)

Buffy sketch by doctormage (Buffy Summers, worksafe)

Buffy/Spike drawing 1 (for cawthraven) by isevery0nehereverystoned (worksafe)

Buffy/Spike drawing 2 (#spuffy feelings i can't get rid of) by isevery0nehereverystoned (worksafe)

Gifset: Try to push reality out of your mind... by mycatismyfriend (Wesley, worksafe)

Gifset: "She was kinda like Cordelia, actually." by whatisyourchildhoodtrauma (inspired by JohnnyTightlips27) (Cordelia, Glory, worksafe)

Sketches: more spike faces by genericaces (worksafe)

Good Omens crossover comic by gleafer (Buffy, worksafe)

You Can Count On Me - The Artwork by BewitchedXx (Buffy/Spike, G)

Artwork: Cookies For Spike by bewildered (Buffy/Spike, G)

Tattoo design based on Angel's Book of Kells tattoo by TheFanged4 ()

[Reviews & Recaps]

Favorite BtVS Episodes by marilyn-not-monroe

[Recs & In Search Of]

Darla/Drusilla fic recs and vid recs by februaryfangfest

Smutty Sunday: Darla/Drusilla fic recs by februaryfangfest

[Community Announcements]

Multifandom: this year's Three Sentence Ficathon will open on Friday, January 12th

[Fandom Discussions]

📆 2023 Year in Reverse — My Fanfic Publications by veronyxk84

fred burkle in the world where illyria was possessing someone else... by stellernorth

Re: favorite and least favorite headcanons by spangelmybeloved

Which blows, realistically, would the characters have died or been crippled from? by Tuxedo_Mark

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

FYI Charisma Carpenter will be joining James Marsters & Juliet Landau at For the Love of Fantasy Aug 17-18! via jamiemarsters

Interview: Be Seen AND Be Heard - Sarah Michelle Gellar | On Creativity by Paula S Wallace

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #angel the series

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cleflink · 2 years

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Hiya! Your Secret Santa again!!

Sorry about that first question, I didn’t mean for it to be such a loaded question, but I’m quite glad that I did. Believe it or not, I’ve never read any of those actually, though I’ve certainly heard of “A Study in Scarlet” and I am quite interested in Shadow Chase (still meaning to start that, btw, I just keep getting distracted JDHKSLFSDF). So no worries about recommending me any of those, because I probably wouldn’t have read any of them without it!

Truth be told, I do shy a bit from Kaishin stories because a majority seem to mischaracterize certain characters, especially when concerning Kaito. But since starting Scion (which is really good, so far! I’m only less than a quarter through, but I’m enjoying it a lot!) I see your handle of the characters and so I have higher hopes for the fics.

That all aside, I’ve begun working on your gift, and as I was brainstorming I began to wonder: What are your thoughts on Hakuba? Which, that question then lead me to wonder what your favorite KID heist might be? I’m approaching “KID and the Four Masterpieces” in my current watch-through, so he’s a bit on my mind at the moment. So yeah, questions for thought! I hope you’re having a lovely day! Take care ^^

–Your DCMKSS

P.S. I do appreciate the Doctor Who reference, it has been quite a while since I’ve read a good “Allons-y” I’m sad to say, so I must thank you for the dose of nostalgia.

Oh no, it was a great question! I just had to take a couple of days to gather my links thoughts enough to answer! ^_^; I certainly agree with you that character behaviour in fics can be rather hit or miss, which is tricky when the characters you love might not do the things you love about them. I'm very glad you are liking Scion so far, though! Trying to keep the characters in character is one of my main priorities as a fanfic writer, so I hope that they feel true to you.

I like Hakuba! His dynamic with Kaito has so much potential (not-quite enemies, but not-not friends either is such a cool dichotomy!), and I love how different it is from Kaito's dynamic with Conan/Shinichi. The constant game of 'I know you know that I know' and plausible deniability that they're constantly playing makes for a fascinating potential plot complication. I don't ship them personally, but I can see why people do for sure. I feel like Hakuba gets done a little dirty by canon (and fandom, sometimes), but he's still a good guy.

My favourite KID heist is SUCH a hard question to answer - there are so many good ones! How do you choose just one? (Kaito is my favourite, have I mentioned? I love him to a degree that is ridiculous).The more recent heists have been disappointing to me, personally, because he feels more like a plot device than an opponent, but any case that allows him to be the clever flash bastard he is is a win in my book. Do you have a favourite heist?

Hmm, if I had to pick one favourite, it would probably be the Miraculous Midair Walk. KID just has so much goddamn STYLE in that one, and I love watching Conan work his way through eliminating the impossible to come to the solution. Also, it's not a heist, but I will always have a fondness for the Magic Lovers Murder Case. KID going undercover to solve mysteries! Conan and KID working together! Dramatic showdowns after all the murder stuff is dealt with! AMAZING.

Sometimes, one just has to channel the Tenth Doctor, you know how it is. I'm delighted to have given you a little shot of nostalgia! Have a lovely day, Santa! Take care of yourself as well!

#dcmk secret santa #clef babbles #It's loving kaito hours #Again

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greensword101 · 7 months

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<3333333333

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Wolfy, I swear you always have the craziest ideas and that's why I love you so much!

Okay, okay, here are my five fics that I am happy to broadcast on here with a link to my fic profiles below.

5. Bad Idea. Fandom: Young Justice. Summary: Why it's a bad idea to bully Dick Grayson. A deconstruction of Young Justice fanfic cliches.

This is technically my most popular work, but it isn't my best and the writing shows. It was unplanned to be a full fledged series of one shots, but the first chapter exploded with reviews asking for more and I decided what the heck. I wish I could have done a few things differently, but I know better now.

4. Lucky Cat Cafe Maid Event. Fandom: Big Hero 6. Summary: The Lucky Cat Cafe is hosting a male maid event and is a server short. Fred volunteers and gets a chance to be close with his crush, Tadashi. But now they need a way to bring business in. Maybe a little fanservice is in order...

My first Fredashi fic. I had fun, I wrote it mainly for @princesstadashi cause we talked about the pairing a lot. I loved writing about the two making out in front of customers in maid outfits in case you didn't tell already lol.

3. Back to December. Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Summary: Set after "Orpheus" of Angel and before "Dirty Girls" in Buffy.

The car was silent.

Two hours stuck in a car with Faith was not Willow's idea of a good time. Too much history and too much hurt and too many topics to avoid.

But maybe it was exactly what they needed to clear the air and turn a temporary truce into something more like friendship.

(OR)

After restoring Angel's soul (again), Willow and Faith have a rare heart-to-heart on the way back to Sunnydale.

This was a secret Santa gift I did recently on a discord server and I'm proud that I wrote a cute canon compliant piece and got the dialogue down.

2. Old Relics and Movies. Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Summary: Post-Halloween, Season Two. Buffy is exhausted and stressed after the spell is broken. Luckily, Giles is there with support and an unusual movie.

I managed to get this written shortly after I finished the kinktober writing, but man, was I tired. I headcanon Giles as being a fan of Rocky Horror Picture Show as his actor, Anthony Stewart Head was Dr. Frank n Furter in a production a few times. The dialogue was much snappier, closer to the show, and I enjoyed writing the fluff between Buffy and Giles.

1. Bring Your Hero Son to Work Day. Fandom: OK KO Let's Be Heroes. Summary: K.O. learns that Professor Venomous is his father. Now, they both have 6-11 years of father-son time to catch up on. But is it really worth giving the villain a second chance?

My current project and sleeper hit that people have repeatedly commented on how good the characters sound. I'm also proud of the humor/drama balance for the most part.

@princesstadashi @isalisewrites @hybristophilica @sunflowerspectre @bizarrejoe what are your top five self fic recs?

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their-seafaring-ways · 2 years

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Hey hey hey! Santa is on his way with your custom-made Captain Swan gift! In order to help me customize it to your satisfaction, I’d like to know more about your preferences for your Captain Swan reading pleasure!

Do you like canon-related moments or aus the best? How do you feel about divergences from canon?

Who are your favorite characters to interact with our favorite couple? Who do you hate to see involved in Captain swan?

What would you like to see in your gift most? What are your do-not-includes?

Tell me more! I’m so excited to bring you the best gift ever!! 🎅🏻🎄😁

Well, I'm excited to see what Santa has in store for me :)

When, it comes to Canon or au related moments, I don't have a preference I love em both. I love, when both emma and killian's characters and their own duodynamic is explored- 'you and I, we understand each other'. One of my favorite fanfics that explores Emma's feelings, the parallels between swanfire and her own experience with killian,how she overcomes her own trauma and how killian supports and helps her through it, is 'dirty, pretty thing'.

I have a couple of other favorites, from role reversal down to captain duckling. Overall I don't really have many preferences apart from the fact that neither August nor Neal should be portrayed as good people.

As for who I'd like to see interact with cs, I'd love David to interact with them- David slowly starting to like Killian. I'd also like to see Henry, in the same way bonding with Killian. I'd alsoo love to see Emma growing on Liam maybe. Some feel good captain swan family moments *dies in fluff* :)

I'd alsoo maybe like to see a scene where David and snow actually realize how dirty Neal did Emma and actually give him shit for it (this scene was in an Elizabeethan fic..'always by your side' I think- was positively amazing).

I hope I answered everything you asked and that this helps. Take care and have a good week :)

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samyelbanette · 6 years

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No Rest For The Wicked: A Thiefshipping Oneshot

So, all the way back in winter 2017, I signed up for @sitabethel‘s Thiefshipping Dirty Santa fanfiction-writing event. And then I promptly forgot about the whole thing, until today, when they reminded me about it. -_- I’m dumb as hell. So, it’s months late, but here’s the fic I wrote for the event!

The prompt I was given was “I’ll let you know all my flaws now, so you could love me better or leave me quicker.”

The flash of white, amongst all the dark hair and skin of the people of Cairo, caught Marik's eye immediately.

It was strange to be back in Egypt, after all the time he'd spent travelling the world with Rishid as the leader of the Ghouls. Running from the past, he admitted to himself. That was over now - after the tumultous events in Domino City, Japan, he'd resolved his grudge against the Pharoah, and accepted his role as a Tombkeeper. The Pharaoh - and his vessel, Mutou, should be coming to Egypt soon, Marik considered. Ishizu foretells that the Ceremonial Duel will soon occur.

After the Pharoah moved on to the afterlife, what would become of the Ishtars? Marik's clan had been waiting to assist the Pharoah in his journey for thousands of years. Once his destiny was fulfilled - then what? Where did that leave them?

It leaves us to lead normal lives, finally, Rishid had said, earlier today. He seemed to be looking forward to it. Marik wasn't so sure. It wasn't easy to spend years despising a man and plotting to kill him, committing acts of thievery and violence at the head of a criminal gang, and then turn around and be....normal.

Marik was walking through a quaint open air market - the same one he'd stumbled through as a child, on his first day on the surface world. He still remembered how strange but beautiful it had felt, to feel the sun on his face and the sand under his feet, to see and hear so many people, when he was used to only seeing his family, and the darkness of the tomb. Now a grown man, he had seen many sights more splendid than this. But, his eyes still misted when he thought of how Ishizu had snuck him out, that first time.

She was always a good sister, he thought to himself. And how did I repay her? By running away, and threatening to do her harm if she pursued me. I have much to atone for.

He had done harm to young Yugi Mutou's friends, as well. He had kidnapped them, and seized control of their minds. They would surely accompany the Pharoah when he came to Egypt to fulfill his destiny. He could not blame them if they looked at him with eyes of hate.

He was thinking of all he'd done while in Japan....the games he had played, the people he had hurt, and the one man, that he had loved. And then suddenly he was there.

That long, white hair. The clearly Japanese features of his host, when everyone else in the crowd was Middle Eastern or African. That beaten up black coat that he always wore.

"Bakura!" Marik cried, and tore off running, after the man. They'd been allies in Battle City, plotting together to defeat the Pharaoh. At first, Bakura had clearly only coveted Marik's Millennium Rod. But as time went on, their relationship had become....more than that. And on the blimp where the tournament finals were held, in the darkness of Marik's room, before the final battle had commenced, they had become lovers.

A night so passionate.....Marik refused to believe that it had meant nothing to the Spirit of the Ring. But after that, everything had changed. Marik had discovered that the Pharaoh did not kill his father, as Shaadi had led him to believe. His father's blood was instead on his own hands, and he'd created a whole other personality to conceal that truth from himself. The shock of this revelation had sent Marik reeling. He had done his Tombkeeper duty, and shown the Pharaoh the markings on his back. But, after that, he had returned to Egypt with his siblings, deeply uncertain of his future.

But, one thing he was certain of: he still yearned for Yami Bakura. His co-conspirator, his equal in dueling, the best lay of his life. What was he doing here?

"Bakura, slown down!" Marik cried, catching up to the pale haired man, and seizing him by the wrist. The Spirit turned to him, and smirked.

"Hello, Marik. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Why have you come here?" Marik demanded.

"I think, deep down, you know," Bakura said, his red eyes staring into Marik's violet ones.

For a second, Marik thought, to be with me, but he knew that was wishful thinking. "The Pharaoh is coming to Egypt soon," Marik realized. "You've come here to kill him."

"You may have abandoned your plot against the Pharaoh," Bakura nodded, "but my goals remain the same as they were the day you met me."

"To get revenge," Marik guessed. "In Battle City, that was what we both wanted. But, you never really explained to me, what it was that you sought vengeance for. What did the Pharaoh do to you?"

Bakura wrenched his wrist from Marik's grip, and backed away from him. "I have been carrying this grudge for three thousand years," he confessed. "I won't let some teenage boy who suddenly wants to be a goody two shoes stand in my way."

"I didn't say that I was going to stop you," Marik muttered. Perhaps they should be discussing this elsewhere, away from prying eyes.

"Does that mean," Bakura asked, his lip beginning to curl upwards, "that you're going to help me? I thought you'd switched sides."

"I'm on my own side," Marik insisted. "I'm not sure yet what I'm going to do, because I'm not sure what you're plotting, or what your reasons are. I want to hear your explanation, before I do anything."

Bakura raised an eyebrow.

"Besides," Marik admitted, "if I said I was going to try and stop you, you would probably kill me."

"I would hate to have to kill you," Bakura chuckled. "I am rather fond of you, after all." Marik blushed, in spite of himself. "Can we go somewhere more quiet, so we can talk this over?"

"I think I know just the place," Bakura said, and began walking off into the distance, towards the desert. "Follow me." %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% They wandered past the outskirts of the city, towards the Pyramids, and the tombs where Marik had grown up. They traversed over sandy dunes in umcomfortable silence for what seemed like hours.

"Where are we going?" Marik asked finally. "Are you sure you're not lost?"

"I was born here, just like you," Bakura reminded. "A very long time ago."

"In the days when the Pharaoh, and the first owner of my Rod, walked the earth," Marik nodded.

"He was a right bastard," Bakura huffed.

"Who?" Marik blinked. "Set, the Pharoah's high priest," Bakura explained.

"That was the original Rod wielder's name?" Marik blinked.

"Didn't your clan teach you the Millennium Items' history?" Bakura questioned.

"I was always a poor student," Marik confessed. He'd rather be running through the torch lit hallways with Rishid, playing games. Father always scolded him for neglecting his studies.

"What exactly did they tell you, about where the Items came from?" Bakura demanded, a strange look on his face.

"The Pharaoh and his priests wielded the Millennium Items to protect the kingdom," Marik recalled from his lessons.

"Protect it from whom?" Bakura questioned.

"From evildoers," Marik shrugged. "Father always said he would tell me the whole story when I came of age. But he.....met his end when I was still a child."

"The enemy the Millennium Item holders were fighting against," Bakura confessed, "was me."

Marik stopped in his tracks, almost slamming into Bakura, who was walking in front of him. It tripped him out, truthfully, that the man who had ridden on the back of his motorcycle, kissed him on an airship, played cutting edge holographic card games with him, was a three thousand year old spirit, who had lived and died while the Pyramids were still being built.

"I killed them," Bakura continued, his tone cold and unrepentant. "I was responsible for the death of Karim, who wielded the Millennium Scales, and Shada, who wielded the Millennium Key. And, of course, Mahad, the original owner of this Ring." He looked down at the glittering gold of the Millennium Item around his neck.

"The Tombkeepers watched over the Scales and the Key all my life," Marik recalled. He didn't like to think about his childhood this much. "The Ring....I remember we had it in our possession, when I was young. One day, Father was spitting with rage. He said some treasure hunter - a foreigner - had stolen it."

"My host's father," Bakura nodded. "Bakura Rokuro."

Marik was not sure it had truly hit him, until this moment, that the face and body before his eyes, which he had kissed and touched not so long ago, did not really belong to the spirit he was speaking to. His real body must be buried, mummified, under these sands somewhere.

"Bakura is not even your real name," Marik realized. "But the name of your host."

"Yes, Bakura Ryou is simply my vessel," the Spirit of the Ring nodded. "When all this is over...he will wake up confused. He won't know where he is, or who you are. Try to ensure that he makes it back to Domino City in one piece."

"Does that mean that 'when all this is over'....you won't be coming back?" Marik frowned.

"Once my thirst for revenge has been slaked, at last," Bakura replied, "my spirit will be at peace, and then, I suppose I can rest."

"In the afterlife?" Marik guessed.

"Where else would a ghost go?" Bakura chuckled.

"Aren't you worried what will happen when your heart is weighed against the feather of Ma'at?" Marik worried. "Don't you fear judgement for your sins?"

"Do you fear judgement for yours?" Bakura asked. The question pierced Marik like a knife.

"I can't judge you for your crimes," Marik sighed. "In Battle City....I wouldn't have cared if Katsuya had drowned, or that safe had fallen on Mazaki and crushed her. Or if Pandora's legs had been sliced off by that saw. Or if Hikari no Kamen and Yami no Kamen had fallen off that building to their deaths....."

"Thankfully," Bakura chuckled, "the Pharaoh helped all your foolish pawns escape with their lives."

"What did the Pharaoh do to you?" Marik asked again. "I've realized...I don't anything about you at all. Bakura isn't even your real name. What did they call you, in your mortal life?"

"Most knew me as the Thief King," the Spirit of the Ring revealed.

"That's not a name," Marik pointed out. "That's a title."

"My true name doesn't matter," Bakura shrugged. "I will not exist in this modern world much longer anyway, after my plan is complete."

"What are you planning?" Marik demanded, his voice raising. "Why did you come back to me, just to leave me again?"

"I want you to know the truth about who I was," Bakura explained. "There is no soul left in this world who remembers the Thief King. The Pharaoh is the only person I once knew who still walk this earth - and he has no memory of who I am, or why I despise him. When he regains his memories, his time on this plane will end. They say you only live as long as people remember you. And you, Marik Ishtar, are perhaps the only person on Earth who will remember me with fondness."

"I'll miss you," Marik admitted. "I was hoping you and I could be together again."

"I wish that could be," Bakura said, his voice full of passion as he looked into Marik's eyes. "I wish I could be your lover, like I was before." He leaned in close, and his lips touched Marik's. Desire coursed through the Tombkeeper's body, and soon his hands were in the Spirit's long hair, pulling him closer, desperate.

Reluctantly, Bakura pulled away. "But, this cannot be," he sighed. "I do not belong in the land of the living. My spirit lingers here for one purpose - my vengeance."

Marik understood this. He had desired vengeance against the Pharaoh for many years, and that misguided goal had driven all of his actions. Now, he felt adrift, without the mission that had motivated him for so long.

"You wielded the power of the Millennium Rod, when you sought your vengeance," Bakura recalled. "But, do you know where the power of the Millennium Items comes from?"

"Dark magic," Marik guessed.

"The darkest kind," Bakura agreed. "The kind that comes from the most evil and heinous of rituals."

Marik blinked in the bright desert sun, confused. He and his clan had been watching over the Millennium Items for centuries, waiting for the Pharaoh's return. But, in all his studies, he was never taught how the Items had been created.

"Human sacrifice," Bakura revealed, staring down at the Ring around his neck. "The blood and bones and souls of an entire village were melted down with the gold, imbuing them with cursed power."

Marik gasped, horrified. He realized then where Bakura had brought him. They were standing on the ruins of an ancient city. Broken columns and shells of buildings, half-buried in the sand, were all that remained of the once-populous village.

"This is all that's left of Kul Elna," Bakura explained, gesturing at the remnants. They looked like an archeological site. "The village that was massacred by the Pharaoh to create the Millennium Items. My village."

Marik's hand went to his mouth. He had endured horrors in his lifetime - hieroglyphics carved painfully into his unwilling back. An evil alter ego arising from the trauma of patricide. Horrible things - but none quite as horrible as witnessing a genocide.

"I'm so sorry, Thief King," he said, putting an arm around his lover.

Bakura backed away from his touch. "I don't need your shoulder to cry on," he laughed. "I only need the Pharoah's suffering and death, as retribution for the suffering and death of my family."

Marik's eyes widened, unsure of what to say. He, too, had once wished "suffering and death" upon the Pharaoh. But, now he regretted his actions.

"I am not some victim, who deserves your sympathy," Bakura confessed. "I am a thief, and a stealer of souls. I killed the masters of the Ring, Key, and Scales, and I felt no remorse. I am responsible for the death of Isis, as well, who wielded the Millennium Necklace. Her soul seems to have returned in this century, as your sister. No wonder she despises me."

"Why are you tellling me this?" Marik asked, feeling uneasy.

"I'm letting you know all my flaws now," Bakura explained, "so you could love me better, or leave me quicker."

"You want my love?" Marik said, confused. "I thought you only wanted your revenge."

"I want to be with you, one last time, before my soul rests," Bakura said, looking desperately into Marik's eyes. "One more night in your beautiful arms, before I condemn myself to Hell. Is that too much to ask?"

Marik reddened. He wanted this man, that much was true. He'd yearned for another taste of his touch since he left Domino City. And yet....

"But you're on the side of the angels now," Bakura chuckled. "Or at least, men who think they are angels. They assume that theirs is the just side. You and your family promised to help them, right? The Pharaoh, and his vessel, Yugi Mutou, and his friends."

"Yes," Marik admitted. "When they come to Egypt, Ishizu and I are supposed to help them restore the Pharaoh's name and memories, and commence the Ceremonial Duel."

"When they come to Egypt," Bakura said plainly, "I am going to play a Shadow Game with the Pharaoh, and I am going to make him pay. I will be doing my best to prevent him from recovering his name - the task you say you plan to help him with. And I do not care whatsoever if the Pharaoh's friends - who now seem to consider you their ally - are caught in the crossfire."

"Why reveal your plan to me?" Marik asked. "Why not lie?"

"I want to know if you will leave me, knowing what kind of man I am," Bakura confided. "I want to know if you will try and stop me. Will you warn young Mutou-san that I'm after his so-called yami? Will you try and protect the Pharaoh, who, as a Tombkeeper, you're sworn to serve?"

"I don't hate the Pharaoh anymore," Marik said, uncertainly. "But, I do still love you, even knowing your true nature. I cannot stop my heart from loving you, or my body from wanting you, regardless of the flaws you confess to me. I will not 'leave you quicker'. I want to stay with you until the end."

"You can stay with me all night long," Bakura whispered seductively. "One last, blissful night- but, come morning, the Pharaoh's plane will arrive in Cairo, and I will do what I have waited to do for three millennia."

"I won't stop you," Marik decided. "I will send the Pharoah to the place he is destined to go, fulfilling my role as a Tombkeeper. Once he gets there.....whether he wins your game, or you do....that is up to the Gods."

"You wielded the power of the Gods once," Bakura recalled.

"Yes," Marik sighed. "But, I have long since surrendered my Winged Dragon of Ra to the Pharaoh."

"He will use it against me in our duel," Bakura predicted. "You have made my coming battle much harder to win."

"My other self used Ra to defeat you in Battle City," Marik remembered.

"Well, that's your other self," Bakura shrugged. "I carry a grudge against him, not you." "He's gone now," Marik said seriously. "For good this time."

"I wanted you to regain control of your body," Bakura confessed. "Not simply because I wanted your Millennium Rod, but because I wanted what was best for you."

"You tried to help me win control of myself back," Marik nodded. "I will always be grateful to you for that, Thief King."

"I have spent millennia haunting this Ring, waiting for my final faceoff with the Pharaoh," Bakura said thoughtfully. "And tomorrow, I will have it. But, I never expected that I would find someone who I cared for. It is, at last, my time to settle the score, and leave this plane - but I wish I did not have to leave you, Marik.”

"I won't leave you until I have to," Marik promised. "I'll give you my love, and I'll give you tonight, and I won't regret it."

"Even though, when morning light comes, I'll set off to kill your king?"

"I wish you could stay," Marik sighed. "I wish you could be mine forever. But, perhaps, when I die, our souls will be reunited, on the other side of the Du'at."

"Then may Osiris have mercy on our wicked souls," Bakura laughed, and kissed Marik again. For now, his soul still resided in Bakura Ryou's body - and that body would know no sleep tonight.

#thiefshipping #my fic #marik ishtar #yami bakura #fanfic dirty santa

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