#ficbit

[fanfic-collection]

The strands of timelines whirled around you. Step by precarious step.

Loki straightened up in his chair, a small smile forming on his face. “You made it.”

“I will always come for you, my love.” You replied, reaching his side.

Loki gripped tight the strands, tilting his head to the side as he studied you. He scrunched his eyes shut and a double appeared beside you, a perfect duplicate of himself.

Tears welled in the original’s eyes as he studied you. “I cannot… let go…” He murmured, glancing at the many strands tangled around him. Bursts of green magic occasionally emanating from his hands.

The double looked at you and held out its hand. You took it and smiled, though continued to address the original Loki, the one sitting on his throne. “My love.” You murmured, squeezing the double’s hand before pushing past it and kneeling before Loki. You wrapped your arms around his legs and rested your chin on his lap. “Then here I will stay.”

A small smile quirked at the corner of Loki’s mouth and he nodded, the duplicate slowly vanishing.

[contentment-of-cats]

Fun and Games

This has been kicking around in drafts for a few months. I was cleaning it out and...

With thanks to @shards-of-silver for getting me off my ass.

Upon promotion to senior lieutenants, there are perks.

Ensigns sleep a dozen to a barracks, junior lieutenants share a four-rack of bunks around a common area and share sanitary facilities. Senior officers of lieutenant commander or higher have their own private quarters increasing in size and amenities, and at flag rank a suite of rooms. But nothing beats the heady rush of getting your own room with a door that closes. Despite what the contractors say, those bunk partitions don't do squat to stop you from hearing every snore, fart, or wet dream from your fellow juniors. There's a corresponding increase in cubic storage along with the bigger room and one may trust the newly-minted senior loots to go a little crazy.

Thrawn as a new commodore aboard rearranged officers' quarters by duty station, so now all bridge officers are housed a literal thirty second run to the bridge or assigned six-man lifepod. Faro has always run a looser ship in terms of culture, and there are times when bridge officers' country is decorated for various holidays and observances. For example, observances of Longnight see small dishes of food and lanterns set out to guide and appease the spirits of those lost in the vastness of space. But today there is something new outside of Agral and Pyro's twofer.

A sign-up.

It's a datapad on a sticky at reading level with a stylus on a cord.

"Sign up for tabletop games night - Quests & Quarries, Pirates & Privateers, Hyperspace Hellscape, Ancient Lands Archaic Warfare, and other RP games coming to a horizontal surface near you!"

The list is growing fast.

A note above the hatch control says, "Game in progress. ENTER QUIETLY."

"Already the social hub," Faro mutters and then jumps out of her skin when Thrawn agrees with her. Even in boots, he moves almost silently. "Let a lass know, sir! You almost scared it out of me!"

Thrawn's shadow - Vanto - is not here or otherwise she'd have stood a better chance of hearing the approach. He is looking at the sign-up sheet and then at the door sign, then turns to her.

"These are not like Scrabble?"

Pyro's love of table games is legend. She even collects them.

"No, Commodore. These are, well, a kind of strategy game." Thrawn visibly brightens. His skin changes color, his pupils disappear as the nictitating membrane crosses them in a three-part blink. "Players create characters and ascend levels in different scenarios called dungeons. It's kind of like academy war-gaming, but more flexible and personalized."

"They will not mind if we enter and observe?"

"They'll snap to attention for a flag officer on deck or I'll have them cleaning the stormtroopers' urinals with ear swabs, but I do not think they'll object."

Faro taps the hatch open and as they step in Vanto barks, "Commodore on deck!"

The response is satisfyingly swift.

"Officers, as you were," Thrawn nods. "I do not wish to disturb the game in progress, only to observe."

Of course, the furniture is bolted to the deck, but there are an additional folding couch and two additional folding chairs added to the room and-

"Pyrondi, where did you get the holotop?" Karyn hasn't seen one in probably twenty years. This one replaces the low table normally issued to this accommodation, bolted down as per regs. "It's got to be a month's pay."

"I bought it at an antiquities shop on Coruscant. Lomar did the new innards, and then all of us wrote code." Us being - apparently - herself, Lomar, Hammerly, Barlin, Agral, Yve, and Carvia.

"Major Carvia, what is your part in this madhouse?" The man budges loots up the couch to make room for their captain and commodore in the armchairs. "Surely you're not a player?"

"I helped Pyro carry this up here and did the coding for groundpounder dungeons. No offense, but this bunch is all Navy." The major wags his finger at Pyro. "I will thank you, youngster, not to refer to items as 'antiquities' that I am old enough to have owned brand new."

"Everyone do a stretch, get some snacks, and we'll come back into it in fifteen?" Pyro asks and everyone agrees, getting up a little stiffly after hours gaming. "Sync and go."

Thrawn looks over the table, at first studying the current dungeon, but then with more interest at the leather-bound manuals of flimsi, and beautifully made sets of dice and other paraphernalia.

"Please, Lieutenant, explain." Thrawn settles in one of the armchairs, accepting one of Pyro's fruit teas and a packet of sweets.

"Well, first these are the handbooks for players and dungeon masters. These others are for aspects - beings, arms, character classes." Pyrondi takes a small bag and empties it into her hand. "These are my dice."

"Is a gambling chip counted as dice?" Thrawn looks intently. "These are thystine and aurum leaf, correct?"

"If a binary decision is needed, yes, it counts. They are thystine, but as you can see, every player has their set and aside from the chip they can have sets of seven to fifteen, it depends what games they play."

Vanto's set is doonium, which makes Thrawn smile fleetingly. Carvia's is some kind of bone or ivory. Agral's is synthetic fireopal. All sets are as individual as the player.

Oh, no. ART.

"And what about the crystal ball?" Karyn asks. It's a perfect sphere set on an elaborate base.

"Oh, that's a toy I picked up from a junk dealer. He said it didn't work, but when you ask it a yes-or-no question it gives you a nonsensical answer. Watch. Is the mess going to serve hash for firstmeal again?"

The sphere roils with smoke and then shows a wavering answer in its center.

Better not tell you now.

"See? It gives positive, negative, or non-committal answers. To be fair, I don't want to know if we're having hash again."

The players filter back in and take their places as Thrawn is given a rough crash course in play. Pyrondi looks around, sets up a triptych screen to hide her materials and plans, and then asks if everyone is ready. Snacks and drinks to hand, all affirm and the game resumes. Karyn watches her superior as he watches the game with eyes bright. Pyro is a force of chaos and order, handling players firmly but also throwing wild situations at them. The dice can't be rigged or fooled on a dice pad, holding them firm.

Thrawn reminds his officers that night phase is coming, and they have watch coming up. The party breaks up with others putting the room back to order and bidding good rest.

"If you do not mind, Lieutenant, Captain Faro and I will join for the next game."

"Please do, sir. The more the merrier."

Karyn almost groans but holds it in.

"As I remember, you said the same thing before you wiped the walls with me at Scrabble."

Pyro only grins. "Good rest, sirs."

[confusedguytoo]

Lot’s of people talk about the Scoobies not digging up Buffy in Bargaining.  I had a thought why that could be.  Imagine Dawn and Spike questioning the Scoobies about Buffy having to dig herself up.

“Why didn’t you dig her up?” Dawn asked.  “You didn’t have to open the coffin

“The way the ritual was set up, it said not to disturb the body and that the resurrected person would be strong enough to join the casters on their own.  I think if the spell hadn’t been interrupted she’d have either been teleported up, or maybe her body would have animated and dug itself up and then she’d have fully resurrected on the surface.”

“Oh, you lot are even bigger morons than I thought.  Buffy had to dig herself up, because you’re not smart enough to remember that Egyptians buried their dead in tombs, not under six foot of dirt!.  It’s only the most famous thing about that whole bleeding country!”

[tielan]

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words:

Tagged by @phosphorescent-naidheachd

Maria yanks on panties and a bra as Nat and Strange give her the rundown, accepts the trousers and shirt that Steve hands her.

A good general needs information before she charges into battle! Especially if she’s just gotten out of the shower...

I’m not tagging 24 people, sorry. But if you’d like to do this yourself, consider this your tap on the shoulder with permission!

[tinsnip]

Phoenix makes the great sacrifice of flipping himself over like a stranded fish, and is rewarded with the sight of Miles in a robe, pouring tea.

"Do you take milk or sugar?"

"Come the fuck back over here."

Miles blinks at him.

"You heard me."

Deliberately, Miles takes a sip of his tea, then puts the cup down. Phoenix opens his arms wide, realizing briefly that he stinks, not caring, and it works out fine because Miles moves straight into them, climbing on to the bed and dropping on Phoenix like a great big cat.

Phoenix hugs him. He hugs him as hard as he can. He squeezes so hard his muscles ache. He splays his fingers around Miles's sides.

Miles lets out a brief huff, then a small amused snort, and then he gives as good as he gets. Ooof: Miles is strong. Stronger than Phoenix had figured. Then again, Phoenix is realizing that Miles has a bit more muscle on him than Phoenix had imagined. He'd never really had time to appreciate that before, has never really had time for things to not be urgent and dramatic. He's never had time for tea and a robe and a hug that feels like it's massaging his soul.

"Hey," says Phoenix, smiling and kind of stupid. "Hey. Hey, there."

"Hello," says Miles, with a hint of a laugh in his voice. "Good morning."

"Yeah? You think so?"

"It's all right so far."

"That's good: don't get your hopes up."

"I would never." And Miles actually kisses him on the side of the head. Hard. Phoenix thinks he may have just emitted actual hearts.

[gretano8]

practicing fuller, more complete scenes

[coevalities]

la miséricorde divine

Stop, says the hierophant, mildly. Do not look for him in me. You’ll only hurt yourself if you try. 

Why would it hurt me, asks Chrom, challenging, to know that the man I trust most still lives?

A curl of amusement, sharp. Because handling broken glass tends to cut, prince. A pause, considering. Ah, but. Would you prefer it regardless? To know that I am still Robin, that I am- a hand pressed over the heart, dramatic, demonstrative, eyes wide and guileless- the same, somewhere deep down? That the man you know still exists? Eyes gold, innocent, naive to what he truly is? The hierophant paces, one-two, stepping to the exalt’s side as he begins to circle the clearing, thoughtful, head cocked like the bird of his namesake as he presses his eyes closed for a long moment. Would you be reassured by knowing that the man who so steadfastly stands by your side, who's spent many a sleepless night with you in the strategy tents is the same monster that haunts your daughter’s nightmares and tore the world to pieces?

You’re- False start, stop. There’s a blockage in his throat that he won’t let on exists as Chrom swallows past it, keeping his tone steady with the practiced ease of a general at war. You’re doing this on purpose, he says. You’re trying to scare me, to force me to back down and take it back, and before the man in front of him can take that as his answer and cut him off Chrom barrels on, but that means I’m right—

And if you are? What does that earn you? Robin grins, gentle and sweet as he spins on his heel, the corners of his mouth pulling back and baring teeth. His arms splay out, inviting embrace or to be run through as his eyes glitter. His tone is light, none of the knowing, mocking amusement borne from certainty that Plegia's hierophant so often possessed to be found in his voice. Were it not for the words he speaks— The knowledge that kind, self-sacrificing Robin is the one who will end the world, and do so of his own volition? Ah, but of course, we are one and the same— does this make you feel better, Chrom?

No? And now he laughs, cruelty lacing the sound. Good. Make sure you keep that division between us. It will be better for you in the end. He leans in, raises a finger to Chrom’s lips, an intimate echo of a lover’s hush. 

Let it not be said, Robin says, molten gold meeting Ylissean blue, that the Fell Dragon knows nothing of mercy.

[choicesmc]

Hi!🌹

hihi o/ this was a fiona-centric fic exploring his dynamic with his ethnic identity <33 i was hit in a flash of inspiration and I had to start writing in the middle of a conference 😭

Fiona did not bleed red. His blood was not American red, it was not the same color that flew next to white stripes, blue boxes, and whiter stars. No, Fiona’s blood was clay red.  The type that stained palms brown, that littered the grounds of his family home in Nigeria, that stained white stripes muddy red.

[bedlamsbard]

my next fic probably isn't going to be the Yonderverse "Loki organizes Steve's and Bruce's dual stag party and it goes, uh, well, Things Happen" but it COULD be.

peak comedy: Steve, Bucky, Loki, Thor, Clint, Rocket, Sam, Rhodey, Scott, and Bruce getting into Trouble In Space while Steve and Bruce just want to go home and make out with their respective brides-to-be. (Tony was invited but opted out, saying he had had enough of space and someone had to hold down the fort on Earth.)

[fanfic-collection]

Leaning back in the healing springs, you let out a soft sigh. Among the hard tiled floors of the room, a pool sank into the ground. It was cushioned where you sat, affording extra comfort as you relaxed and unwound in the pool.

As one of the more elite Einharjar, you were allowed such luxuries. Still though, certain circumstances helped.

The corner of your mouth curled into a smile as you heard soft steps behind you.

Opening your eyes, you looked back, head upside down and saw him approaching.

“My king.” You murmured softly.

Loki smiled down at you, towering over you in your current state as you lay in the pool. “My love.” He replied softly.

“Normally you’re much quieter.”

Loki shrugged, still smiling. “I wanted you aware of my presence. No need to put you on guard.”

You smirked up at him, twisting in the water until you could see him better. Folding your arms, you rested your chin on them and gazed up at him. “Are you going to join me?”

Loki crouched down, toying idly with one of your strands of hair. He hummed for a moment as he contemplated your offer. “Tempting as it is…” He trailed off.

You leaned into his touch, reaching for him silently. Only the shifting of the water moved. “Another time then?” You asked.

Loki chuckled, sitting down cross legged and gazed at you. “This will suffice, for now.”

[undertheopensky]

“Four, when’s the last time you ate something?”

“Uhhhhh-”

Quick, play dumb!

“What’s food?”

Not that dumb!

[confusedguytoo]

So this scene just popped in my head.  A Buffy fanfic where Tara gets resurrected.

We’re right at the beginning of the story and Tara has popped up and everyone knows it’s her even if they’re not sure how and Willow and Tara are just lost in each other.

The Scoobies are looking at the two of them, with the new Slayers also there.  Buffy, Xander and Giles start talking alternate realities as a possibility for how she’s there and the baby Slayers are like “What? Alternate realities are real?”

And so Xander describes Vamp Willow “Imagine Willow in skintight leather pants, platform boots and a bustier.”

Kennedy gets this super pained expression on her face and actually whines.  She hasn’t talked to Willow but she knows they’re done.  And then she says “Why would you put that image in my head now!”

[cryptconstellation]

“Alex, why do you have a baby?” Dana asked, blinking in bewilderment and apparently only just noticing PARIAH.

“Bbbbhhhh.” PARIAH contributed, lazily waving a baby arm at her. Dana waved back more on reflex than anything else.

“We ate Greene and too much Redlight, and Blacklight came from PARIAH. And we ate it when we broke it out of the lab, and then it ate us- uh, it’s ours.” Alex hastily simplified at the increasingly incredulous face Dana was making. “Look, it has our eyes?” Void tried, hitching PARIAH up with a flex of biomass so their faces were next to each other. PARIAH obligingly cycled through faces into a squishy, child shaped copy of Alex’s. And sprouted tendrils again, wiggling them at Dana.

“I… see that.” Dana said, entirely at a loss for words.

[tinsnip]

Extremely nsfw fic snippet as I work along on Rivals with Benefits - Miles and Phoenix finding themselves, finally, in Miles's bed.

It's maybe… not the best blowjob he's ever gotten. It's a bit weird - Edgeworth's been an amazing fuck so far in all the stupid little situations they've put themselves in so far, but now… hmm. Not a bad blowjob. Not exactly. Blowjobs are like pizza: even when they aren't great, they're still pretty good. But maybe… Edgeworth doesn't do this all that often? Or something? Because he keeps starting and stopping, and huffing irritated little sighs at himself, and it's kind of hard for Phoenix to focus on the blowjob when he keeps wanting to tell Edgeworth to relax. It takes him out of the brainspace that he had never previously realized blowjobs required. So now he's lying there having Edgeworth do things to his genitals and he is sort of feeling like maybe he should go somewhere else to give Edgeworth some privacy. Oh for fuck's sake— It feels weird to do it, like Edgeworth's gonna yell at him, but it's his dick right? Right. So he looks down at Edgeworth and— Oh. Oh, of course that's the reason. Fucking Edgeworth is having difficulty giving a blowjob because his stupid hair keeps getting in his face, because of course that's why. Fucking idiot. So Phoenix reaches down and pulls his bangs up out of his face— —and Edgeworth looks up at him— —and holy fuck, suddenly that's Edgeworth with Phoenix's dick in his mouth and Phoenix's hand in his hair and his eyes are - not mad, not sad, not happy, maybe a little irritated but that's honestly just Edgeworth's baseline, and it's just him, just him looking at Phoenix, just Miles looking at Phoenix, Miles his rival, Miles his friend, Miles in the dark in Miles's apartment with Phoenix in his bed and Phoenix's dick in his mouth— Miles splutters a little but mostly deals fine with what immediately follows, which is good, because Phoenix most absolutely does not have the bandwidth to congratulate Miles on successfully concluding a fucking blowjob, he's too busy being kicked in the brain by his own balls to do anything other than twitch in Miles's bed and yell about it, holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fucking fuck— "Shh! Shh!" "Oh, Christ… oh, God, I… oh my God, Miles… fuu—" "Shut up! For God's sake, Wright, this is an apartment building!" That stops him, and then he immediately gets the giggles, because of fucking course he does, of course he's just had Miles Edgeworth suck him off and is therefore going to crack up in Miles Edgeworth's bed and snicker and try to be quiet while Miles keeps shushing him and he is going to fucking run out of oxygen and die, he is going to smother himself with a pillow if Miles doesn't do it first, but oh my God— "'This'— ah ha ha, fucking 'this is an apaaartment building'—" "Wright—" But Miles is snickering too now and also, which is funnier, trying not to, so he kind of snorts and makes a weird noise and that's really funny, and now he's pressing his face into Phoenix's thigh and wheezing against his skin while Phoenix muffles his own stupid screeching laugh with his arm, practically biting his own bicep to shut himself the fuck up so they don't wake the neighbours.

[gretano8]

dont hold it against me

[avinryd]

ficbit time!!!

BG3 brainrot incoming. What can I say, the sad arrogant wizard got to me. I will not apologize.

-

“What in Mystra’s name were you thinking?”

He keeps his voice below a shout, barely, but Arden flinches as if he hadn’t. Still, their voice is level when they reply,

“What do you mean, ‘what was I thinking’? You were there, in my mind. You know. You saw.”

‘What I saw was a stubborn fool with more power than sense,’ Gale does not say. That would brand him the most egregious hypocrite on the Sword Coast, after all. Instead he exhales deliberately though his nose, searching for calm before he speaks again.

“Your mind is a maelstrom, Arden—” fuck, he can’t quite keep the awe from his voice  “—and I’m no illithid master of the psionic arts. At least, not yet. So I ask again: what in the Hells were you thinking? Did nothing I said, no impression of the severity of the situation get through to you?”

“Of course it did!” They snap back, eyes flashing in a very literal sense. “The situation seemed very urgent, so I chose the most expedient solution available.”

“How does ‘pouring your entire life force and then some down a drain’ register to you as a solution at all? Let alone the most expedient!”

“This, coming from the man whose apparent life plan is to find the darkest corner of Faerun to detonate his mistake, rather than find a way to fix it. Your self-preservation record seems as black as mine, Gale of Waterdeep.”

Before Gale can sputter out a reply to that comment, they continue bitterly,

“There’s a hole in the Weave sitting in your chest, and I’m brim-full of the stuff that threads the loom.”

Lightning crackles between their fingers as if to illustrate.

“It’s just…so much. It stood to reason that enough of it could er—fill the hole, as it were.”

(There’s more to it than that; Gale’s no fool. The sorcerer’s hands have balled into fists, some deep-seated frustration robbing them of their usual eloquence. “Brim-full”. “So much”. If Gale had to guess—with that part of his mind not worried about the apocalypse in his chest—he’d conjecture that Arden suffers under a problem diametrically opposed to his own. He shelves the thought for later.)

Arden at least has the decency to look ashamed.

“Clearly, I’m outclassed—I’d never encountered Netherese magic before last night. I won’t— I won’t apologize for my actions, but I did not take you at your word and for that, I am sorry.”

-

There's like, 2k in this doc so far and I'm not quite done with this piece. I'm thinking it'll be a series of oneshots(actually 2 series, companions) that vaguely follow my playthrough as Storm Sorcerer blast-first-questions-later Arden. We have a good time, and Arden's vowed to vaporize everyone who's ever hurt their friends, up to and including the gods themselves.