#old fic edition

[feedthefandomfest]

Comment Bingo: Old Fic Edition

Very simple rules: connect 5 squares in a line by commenting on fics that suit the task in each square

Very simple goals: encourage readers to comment on older fics; encourage fandom writers to KEEP WRITING

STEPS:

Download Bingo Card HERE (png) or HERE (jpg) or HERE (pdf)

Complete the tasks on the card, marking off each as you go, until you've completed 5 in a line (vertical, horizontal, or diagonal; NO double-dipping; center ♥️ is a free space)

POST your winning card (or list your filled squares) and tag @feedthefandomfest! Glory in your victory.

SEARCH TIPS:

This card requires some familiarity with AO3's search filters. Once you've narrowed your results according to fandom/ship/additional tags, certain squares require you to sort the results by Date Updated, which is the default. Other squares require you to search for fics posted within a certain range of years, which you can do by scrolling on the search menu to More Options:

Note that to enter a date range, you must format the date as shown.

REWARD:

✨ victory badges ✨

New badge for this card, but here are examples from previous cards:

Tag me when you earn a bingo (or double, triple, quadruple... FULL CARD bingo) and I'll reblog a shiny badge with your name on it to commemorate the win.

FAQ:

Can I comment on tumblr or only on AO3?

Either one is great! This card especially is more designed with AO3 in mind, but some can be adjusted to suit tumblr as well, so I say go for it. Tumblr fics deserve love, too.

Can one comment count toward multiple squares if the fic fits more than one category?

Since the goal is for as many fics to receive comments as possible, try to comment on a different fic for each square.

Is there a time limit?

Nope! Take your time or set your own deadline, whatever works for you. This blog is still in its early experimental stage, so feedback welcome. Play around and let me know what you like and what might be added/changed—including ideas for squares on future cards!

Do I have to record progress on the actual card?

Nope! If it’s easier to keep track in a different way, that’s fine. This is all very honor system, so if you say you earned a Bingo, we’ll call it a win 🎉

Some people have been tracking not just completed tasks, but the fics they read along the way, so that when they post a bingo, they can also promote the fics/authors in a little rec list. Not required, but definitely cool to see!

Can I adjust the task in a particular square to suit my comfort level?

Of course! If you deliver something in the spirit of the task, then it’s all good. Use your best judgement in constructing a comment that will make the author smile, and you can consider it a job well done.

In general, so long as each square has produced at least one comment, you’re golden and I salute you 🫡

Happy commenting!!

[johnconstantinesdick]

The most popular fic in the Steel Samurai fandom had an unexplained seven year hiatus only to update at like 3 am on December 21st, 2027. The author explains that they couldn’t update fic while in prison (huh?) but now that they’re off death row (WHAT??) they’ve transcribed seven years worth of writing (Jesus Christ). The update is 130k words long. Edgeworth and Maya don’t sleep that night.

[cassandracain52]

Weirdly specific fanfic tropes in the Batman Fandom that I love

Cuddle Pollen: Ivy’s pollen but it just makes you crave human contact to the point it’s painful

People avoiding Bruce Wayne adopting them: sometimes the adoptee is a canon bat child other times it’s LadyBug or Spider-Man. Bruce absolutely dragging Batman through the mud to the press for no apparent reason: You would think such a specific prompt could not possibly have that many fics. You would be wrong. The Justice League finding out Bruce has 10+ children and being shook: It always goes one of two ways, either one of his kids was hiding under his cape and outs him or they all show up when Bruce inevitably needs help Tim destroying another company out of pure petty spite: Idk why it's always him, but it is. The reason can vary but it's typically in defense of another family member

Actual Ray of Sunshine Robin!Jason seeing the neglected little gremlin that is 9 yrs old Tim Drake and deciding to keep him: it’s always so funny. 90% of the time it’s just Jason telling Bruce “We’re keeping him” and Bruce just being like “ok”

Damian trying to fight Santa Clause: I don’t know when exactly we as a fandom decided that not only did Damian believe in/know about Santa, but that he is ready to fight him at any given moment but I hope it never stops

[feedthefandomfest]

✨CONGRATS, @ihni!!✨ Completing this card is a feat, no matter the pace. Please accept this badge to commemorate your ULTIMATE VICTORY 🫡

WELL DONE 💜

This took me a while, mainly because I had to wait for the urge to read for a fandom that was 10+ years old, bit finally - BINGO! @feedthefandomfest

[jq37]

Aelwyn is sixteen and preparing for midterms at Hudol. Uniform pressed and starched, head full of incantations and spell components. She doesn't mean to bump into Adaine and get orange juice all over her shirt but today isn't the day she's going to start showing weakness.

"You know, you really should watch we're you're going," she says archly, playing off the clumsy mistake as a purposeful jab.

Playing it off a bit too well because, the next thing she knows, Adaine is flipping her off and a bolt of queasy looking, green energy is coming towards her. Ray of Sickness. And she can't spare the spell slot for Counterspell because she needs it for her exams.

"You little bitch!" Aelwyn says once she's emptied the contents of her stomach down the front of her shirt.

"Good luck with your exams," Adaine says sweetly.

Aelwyn is eighteen and the oldest, mangiest cat she's ever seen in her life has just vomited on her shoes.

"My," she says, casting a shield spell around her ankles to stop the cat from clawing at them. "You weren't kidding. He is a little bastard, isn't he?"

The shelter volunteer looks mortified. "Oh, gods! I am so sorry. I tried to warn you--I mean, not that I'm blaming you but--"

"No, it's alright. I did ask you to show me stragglers."

The shelter worker gestures to another pen on the other side of the room. "I can show you the kittens we just got in or there are some very well behaved older cats as well if you'd--"

But Aelwyn cuts her off, scooping up the old cat--though she holds him at arm's length for now, just to be safe. "No need. I haven't changed my mind. I'll take this one." She looks at the tag on his collar. "Hector."

Aelwyn is three and, as of a month ago, no longer the youngest Abernant.

She's had baby dolls in the past but never a baby sister and this is exciting new territory. She's full of questions. When is she going to be able to walk? When is she going to be able to talk? When will she be old enough to have lembas bread instead of formula?

Her parents seem less fascinated by the new addition to the family than she is but her mother is amused when she slaps away the hand of a colleague of her father's who tried to touch Adaine before sanitizing his hands, standing between the much larger man and her sister.

"So defensive. Perhaps she'll be an abjurer."

When Aelwyn asks what that is, her mother says that it's a kind of magical protector and she likes that a lot. That sounds like a good thing to be.

At night, Adaine cries. Except, she doesn't hear it because the mobile above her crib is etched with runes that cast the Silence spell.

"But what if she gets hurt?" Aelwyn asks.

Her father brushes her off. That's what the Unseen Servants are for. But she thinks that's what an abjurer might be for too and even though she isn't one yet, that doesn't mean she can't start practicing.

So, every night, Aelwyn waits until her parents have put Adaine down for bed and then tiptoes into her room. She checks to see if Adaine is silently wailing and if she is (and even sometimes if she isn't) she presses her face between the bars of the crib and sticks her little hand over Adaine's face.

"Don't cry," she says, even though the Silence spell mutes her words as completely as the tears. "Mum said I'm an abjurer. Nothing will get you. Don't cry, baby."

Adaine grabs her hand with impressive grip strength for something so small and, within a few minutes, she's trancing peacefully.

Aelwyn is seventeen and her sister is off to save the world again. This time from a Night Yorb--whatever that is.

It feels cruel that Adaine should have to go risk her life again so soon after she just almost died--not almost died, she did die before being raised by her cleric.

She wants to come with, to help in some way. Surely she could be helpful--last quest they brought Gilear for Helio's sake!

But Adaine doesn't ask her and she can't bring herself to say the words she needs to have the conversation she wants. So, instead, she lightly whaps Adaine on the shoulder with her spellbook as she's packing for the quest.

"I know you haven't done much studying lately what with your grades being based on how many hobgoblins you kill or whatever ridiculous system Aguefort has cooked up," Adaine rolls her eyes at that, "But if you don't mind a little cram session before you leave tomorrow, I can show you how to cast Teleport like I said. Might help you stay a touch less dead on your quest."

Her tone is light but her eyes betray her: Please, please, please don't die again.

Adaine's expression softens but then she scoffs, playing her half of their game. "I don't know what a Hudol dropout who's been in jail for the past year is gonna teach me but do your best."

Aelwyn is seven and her father is cross with her.

"Really Aelwyn," he says and even though they're talking via crystal she can feel the frost of his glare. "You thought it was appropriate to call me at work for no good reason? How many times have I told you and your sister to not bother me while I'm working."

She hates the word bother. She doesn't want to be a bother. She tries very hard not to be. Maybe she just didn't explain herself well enough.

"I know, father. But Addy got really scared and panicky on the playground. She was breathing really hard and--"

Her father makes a noise of disgust. "I don't have time for this. She is in primary school now. Stop coddling her. And her name is Adaine, not Addy. Please speak properly. I'm raising you better than that."

He hangs up before she can say anything else.

Aelwyn is eighteen and most of the claw marks on her arms have healed, which is nice. On her lap asleep is Hector who has apparently decided he likes her enough to use her as a radiator but not enough to submit to medical treatment without using her arms as a scratching post.

"You little heat vampire," she says as she slides her thumb across the screen of her crystal, searching for a video that will help her out. Eventually she finds one that looks promising and she calls it up.

On the screen, a halfling is standing next to a cat who is actively shredding her sweater with its claws. "You're going to be tempted to use some kind of a shield spell when applying the ointment," says the halfling. "But cats can smell abjuration magic and they don't love it. You won't get close enough to do the job. Isn't that right my darling?"

In response, her cat hacks up a hairball.

"Darling indeed," she says under her breath.

But even laced with sarcasm, the word is sweeter against her tongue than she anticipated.

She sinks her hand into Hector's fur and scratches his back for a few moments before tentatively speaking aloud. "Sleeping well, my darling?"

Hector says nothing--he's asleep and a cat. But warmth blooms in Aelwyn's chest--more than enough to make up for what Hector is leeching from her.

Aelwyn is seventeen and her father has just given her the most horrible command she's ever received in her life--and she's counting being made to sink a ship full of people in that calculation.

She knows her father doesn't expect her to delicately extricate the knowledge he needs from Adaine's mind. He expects her to get it at all costs. To ransack and pillage the memories if necessary with no heed of the consequences on her psyche. He'd probably prefer it that way--the more broken Adaine is, the easier it will be to mold her into a version of herself that is more useful to him.

Aelwyn is usually a smooth talker and a convincing liar but now, she stumbles all over her words, babbling out a stream of deflections and pleas as her heart squeezes tighter and tighter in her chest until she can't hold back the truth that she's been suppressing for years anymore.

"Adaine's just…she's a baby."

Aelwyn is eighteen and her apartment is full of cats.

She's always thought that the phrase, "One thing led to another" was a bit of a cop out--clearly there were key steps between point A and point B being glossed over--but in this case, there is truly no better way for her to articulate how she went from zero cats to ten cats in such a short amount of time.

She's sure that if she was still living with Jawbone, he'd have something to say about it but that's exactly why she isn't currently living with Jawbone.

She portions out food for all of the cats, saving Hector for last because he likes to eat curled up next to her.

"My darling baby boy," she says, lifting him onto the couch with her because the jump up is a bit much for him and his old bones. She kisses him on the top of the head and then pulls out her crystal. She scrolls mindlessly for a bit before checking her messages despite the fact that there's conspicuously no notifications.

Not that she has many people to expect texts from but she hasn't heard from Adaine in a few weeks and it's unsettling. When they weren't getting along, they were still living under the same roof. She was able to keep tabs on her, more or less. Now, they're closer than they've been in ages but barely talking.

I'm the older sister, I suppose, Aelwyn thinks. I should take the initiative.

She pets Hector with one hand and drafts a message with another: Are you alive, bitch?

She's about to press send but then she frowns and deletes the draft. After a few moments of thought, she taps out a new message: Can't believe I'm gonna say this. Miss my little sister. Everything all right?

Aelwyn is seventeen--though she doesn't feel like it.

Her mind is telling her that she's sixteen and that she was just been broken out of a jail cell in Solace but Adaine is telling her that she's just been broken out of an entirely different prison after being tortured for months even though she doesn't remember any of that.

But her body feels frail and Adaine says she's been in her mind which means she must have used the hard reset.

She's suddenly feeling very vulnerable--not because of the disorientation or the of the levels of exhaustion she can feel weighing on her like leaden chains. No, it's because of the fact that Adaine using the reset means that she must have read the treacle-y note that she left there for her to find.

It was just an insurance policy, she tells herself. There was wisdom to buttering up your savior to make sure she'd do what you needed her to do.

She manages to mostly believe it. But the small, truthful part of herself that knows how deeply she meant the words is so uncomfortable that she antagonizes Adaine until she's annoyed enough to hit her with a spell, sending her into blissful unconsciousness.

Aelwyn is nineteen and she's going to kill her mother.

Well, not alone of course. Adaine deserves the kill at least as much as she does if not more. It'll be a group effort.

It's a strange mix--the cold fury at her mother mixed with the warmth she feels for her sister, sitting across the table from her. She summons a flame to her palm, a preview of what their mother has waiting for her. She watches Adaine's eyes harden with resolve and she sees the face of her baby sister, left to wail alone silently for hours, soothed by her presence. "Let's get her."

"Yes, my dear," she says, the endearment coming freely as if this has always been their dynamic. "We'll get her."

But there will be time for that later. Right now, it's time for ice cream and seeing Adaine so content in such a simple pleasure causes the warmth in her to surge so suddenly that it would be startling if it wasn't so pleasant. The urge to voice it is so powerful that she doesn't know that would have been able to stop it at any point in life, let alone now.

"I hope we get to eat ice cream and cast magic forever," she says, words that would have been impossible for her to say one short year ago and impossible not to say now.

And, to her delight, Adaine agrees.

[dansemacabre]

i’ve been thinking about “sixer, it would eat you alive” since i read it and. man. every layer you peel back makes it worse. im not a bill apologist but. shit

if you (1) take it at face value, it paints bill as an apologetic murderer in his single (and maybe sole) open moment of regret. he doesn’t let his walls down often- only with ford do we even get to see the remnant of his galaxy, see the “actual remorse” ford describes, get just a hint of his origins. but he does it, because he thinks ford should know.

if you (2) take it from ford’s point of view, as something he committed to journal three, like. wow. imagine being so committed to a being that you’d hunt down and kill the monster that destroyed his home, only to (assumably) figure out later that that being was the monster. the small moments of trust, the “good times”, are so key to manipulation. how long did ford hold onto that one shred of vulnerability? no wonder ford stayed for as long as he did. in his eyes, bill was a survivor. ford wanted to survive too.

(slight tw below for unreality- any time i mention our reality, i mean “our reality” as a narrative device used in the book of bill as a proxy for the idea of bill being in our reality, since he can’t actually be in our reality. all of this is a fictional theory about a show/book with fictional contents!)

but if you (3) remember that “even his lies are lies” and absolutely Nothing bill says should be trusted. Whoo boy. if i read tbob right the book itself is being created in the theraprism (even tho it shows up with the ciphertologists at some point? idk that’s a whole other post). it’s meant to show what the reader wants to see; it manifests in our reality as what the collective fandom wants to see. so if we want to see truth, if we want to see where bill ended up and who he actually is, there’s a non-zero chance that the whole interaction was a complete fabrication.

imagine bill, stuck in the actively harmful, probably earth-illegal theraprism, once again being forced to be “fixed” and molded into something more palatable, being forced to conform no matter how much it hurts. (i know natural uncontrollable mutation ≠ just so much murder and destruction and chaos, but. you can’t ignore the similarities. bill has obviously been thinking about those silly straws.)

he looks back on everything that went wrong, back on his relationship with ford, back through every dimension where he wins. would that one moment, that one truth amid centuries of lies, have saved him from purgatory? if he had just been open? shown his damage? maybe he did think of his parents, or his henchmaniacs (especially the oracle). people who he might have once opened up to. maybe he just wanted to open up to someone again.

so in his own weird way, stuck in a cell, he reshaped reality again. in this reality, for this fleeting moment, he had been someone worth believing. and ford had listened, hell, ford had wanted to help. looking back, knowing how he treated ford, knowing how ford ended up because of it, maybe bill would have said the most honest thing he’d ever told ford: i am the monster, i am not worth your time or belief, and i will eat you alive.

[cheatingtime]

you wanna know how i got this scar.... ?

The Dark Knight: Bully Edition (by @fear3loathing)

[chronicowboy]

Eddie isn't entirely sure how he ends up on Tommy's doorstep. One minute, he's stuffed into the corner of his couch, staring at the two empty cushions beside him, trying to will joy out of thin air. The next, he's grabbing his keys and knocking on a familiar door. But it's not too familiar a door. It's not the right door, he thinks. It should be Buck's door. But this feels safer somehow.

Buck's door is joy. Buck's door opens into a room filled with sunlight. Buck's door is a portal to all the good things Eddie has never found himself worthy of. He's still learning to trust the good things, joy. And whilst he trusts Buck implicitly, intimately, instinctually. He still doesn't quite trust himself.

Tommy's door is... Well, Tommy's door often opens on casual camaraderie. Tommy's door mainly leads to the sparring mat in the garage. Tommy's door is just a door. Eddie doesn't know if he's there to see it open or seal it shut.

It's been a week since. Since Eddie had danced around in his house in a pair of tighty whiteys he'd forgotten he'd owned. Since an intoxicatingly simple joy had buzzed through his veins and filled him with a glowing pink light that had almost burst out of him when he'd looked through the peephole. Since Buck had offered him a beer and stuffed himself into the corner of the couch to drink in stony silence between sniffles. Since Eddie had resisted the urge to make himself small and had instead spread his legs, so he could feel the warmth of Buck's knee burning into his bare thigh. Since both of them getting drunk enough on beers and each other that they'd danced around Eddie's house until they collapsed on the living room floor. Since they'd laid there on the carpet, staring up at the ceiling, and Buck had finally mumbled his way through a recital of his breakup.

It's been a week of Eddie biting down on his reflexive guilt at seeking out joy whilst Buck wallows in despair. Of Eddie plastering himself to Buck in every spare moment because, even when he's down in the dumps, he gives off joy like a spaceheater throws out heat. Of Eddie allowing himself to bask in it without the whispering warning voices in his mind for the first time ever. Of Eddie allowing himself the simple pleasure of Buck without fear of ruining him.

Eddie startles a little when the door opens, but it's alright because Tommy startles too. His whole face stretches in shock then scrunches up with a wry little laugh and a shake of his head.

"Guess I probably should have expected this, huh?" he says.

And Eddie thinks that's odd. Hadn't expected it himself. Doesn't know why he's here. Doesn't know what he's going to say. But he opens his mouth anyway, lets whatever is in his throat claw its way out, and what he says is,

"Buck is worth the risk."

Tommy blinks. Eddie blinks back.

Something pools in his chest. Something warm. Something hot. It's the warmth of Buck's knee against his thigh and the heat of boiling anger. It's scorching. Eddie can't tell which one burns worse.

"Okay," Tommy replies evenly.

"Buck said that you said you couldn't move in with him because he'd break your heart."

"I did."

"He's worth that risk," Eddie repeats. Doesn't know how else to say it. "Don't you get it? He-he's so smart and passionate and kind and full of love. His head gets a little messy sometimes, but he's still so so full of love. Why can't you see that? He's beautiful inside and out. And he's worth the risk. You can't not take the risk with Buck. He's worth a hundred broken hearts, don't you get that?"

Eddie's chest heaves. A thousand more words crowd his mouth, but he can't wrap his lips around any of them. His brain is flying a mile a minute, everything slipping through his fingers just when he thinks he's grabbed a hold of it. And Tommy is just staring at him in that slightly disconcertingly blank way he stares.

"Eddie, I think maybe you should try giving that speech to a mirror." His voice is still even, but there's an edge to these words that makes something in Eddie sing, makes him want to press against it until it draws blood.

"What?"

"I think you think Buck's worth a hundred broken hearts because you and him have been breaking each other's over and over for the past six years."

Eddie flinches.

"What? I would never—"

"Just because you didn't mean to doesn't mean you didn't." Tommy sighs and drags a hand down his face. All the defensiveness melts out of his posture as he leans against the doorframe. "Okay, let's talk about me, yeah? You wanna know why I didn't take the risk with Buck?"

It's a rhetorical question. Still, Eddie says, "yes."

"Because." He shrugs. "Six days, six weeks, six months, six years. He'd never mean to, but. He was always going to break my heart, Eddie. And he was always going to break it for you."

There had been this moment when he'd first sat down in the confessional between the click of the door closing and Father Brian's greeting where the whole world had seemed to fall silent. It was a crushing thing. In that moment, twenty-three years of sins had fallen upon him like a helicopter. It was as if the booth itself was trying to swallow him whole. Now, Eddie feels it again. Feels it so vividly he almost thinks he's back in that stifling little wooden box. Feels it like a whole new confession, unforgivable and yet inevitable.

"And you were always going to let him, right?" Tommy doesn't even leave room for an answer. Just nods to himself. "You can be angry with me if you want. I hurt him, I know that. But I took the risk when I started this. The writing was on the wall from the beginning. I knew I was living on borrowed time, but... Well, I don't have to explain to you why he was worth it, do I?"

"W-what do you—"

"God, Diaz," he groans, and presses his forehead against the edge of the door. "He was never trying to get my attention. Jesus. He spent that whole game pulling your pigtails."

"No, he was jealous of—"

"Of me because I had your attention." Tommy shakes his head. "I'm not doing this. I can't. Please leave."

And well, Eddie's never needed all that much of a nudge when it comes to running away. He's halfway to his truck when Tommy's voice stops him in his tracks.

"Hey, Eddie?"

"Yeah?" He turns, watches something complicated break across Tommy's face.

"He's worth the risk."

The door closes. Another opens.

[anistarrose]

yes, my favorite line in all of TAZ does continue to be Barry's "I would feel guilty living in a world that I... poisoned." even on top of the fact that he's talking to Taako. even that it's pre-Glamour Springs. it's the way Barry spends his ten years alone in a downward spiral over the "poison" on his hands, completely in parallel to how Taako does. maybe not even realizing they're the same. you know voidfished Taako certainly doesn't realize.

relatedly, I think a lot about how Barry is the most obviously genre-dissonant character in early Balance. how obviously he doesn't belong. how everyone has their eccentricities, but with Barry there's always the — at the time — comedy, of reactions like "get out of here, you can't have a fantasy character who revolves around blue jeans!" but the thing is, Barry isn't any more alien to that world than Magnus or Merle or Taako is. he's just the one who allowed himself the least opportunities to know or interact with that world.

and I think he would've lagged behind THB in that regard even if the Voidfishing hadn't happened. not only does he hold even more guilt than them for half-inventing the Relic plan, he was charged by the judges with the "sin" of isolating himself on his home plane — yearning for connection with the world, but depriving himself of it. when Barry is crushed with more guilt than he's ever felt before in his life, what does he do? fall back into old habits.

[feedthefandomfest]

I GOT A REPLY TO THE 2020 FIC COMMENT— (the one with over 500 kudos that I was the first to comment on) AAAAAAAAA

I need to finish my bingo asap so I can spread their fic to a wider audience who leave comments, it is now my life’s mission

Aaaaahhhhh!!!!! That's so awesome 😆 Vicariously delighted right now.

Looking forward to the rec list, and I commend your noble mission 🫡

[heartshapedbabydolls]

I know your wife and she wouldn’t mind!

[pines4thetwin]

As promised, here's that fusion post for the three people that asked for it (drops it and runs).

Ford thinks of himself and Stan as one, an extension of each other, and lowkey hates that its not true nor possible.

And Mabel really shouldn't have shown him Steven Universe because now he's obsessing over the concept of fusions and his desire to be one with stan.

Now lets say this is Pre-Weird and everything is still tense between them and they aren't exactly talking but despite that ford still wants to be close and he knows stan does too.

He can see it in the broken resigned looks Stan keeps throwing his way. And listen, Ford isn't the best at communication but he can fix this. He may still be angry and self righteous and an asshole but he can fix them.

So now he spends an even more absurd amount of time in the lab trying to making it his reality and entirely disregards his base needs to the point even dipper is concerned.

He has a journal dedicated to this idea where he keeps all his notes and theories on how to make it possible. Would he have to alter their DNA for it to work or could it be possible for them as they are?

While doing the tests and research for his fixation he remembers a dimension he briefly travelled to back when he was younger and fresh through the portal. One where this concept, his desire, his fantasy, his wish was real. A dimension where it was was their culture, their way of life. And while he did think it was interesting then, he was young and angry and raw with unrestrained hurt. Too emotional to stop and study the practice the way he should have.

He beats himself up over it now. If only he had been thinking more logically him and stan could be one already. They wouldn't have to be so... apart.

He doesn't have time to dwell on his shortcomings though. He has to figure this out. He doesn't know exactly why but he feels like he's running out of time. Like he has to do this now or he'll never have the chance again.

Eventually he has his prototype and it functions well... enough. He just has one more trial to run. Except Stan comes down to check on him. 'Worried ford isn't taking care of himself properly.' or something like that.

And honestly, Stan in his space is the last thing he expects because they have an unspoken agreement. Stan roams above and Ford stays down here. And when they cross paths they both look the other way.

But stan is here and yes Ford is annoyed at first but this also means he doesn't have to go seek stan out.

"I told you to stay- wait actually this is perfect. We'll do it now," Ford fiddles with his device, turning it on and he really isn't thinking right anymore. He know the device works and that's all that matters.

"Do what now? Stanford, what is that," And Stan is kinda terrified because Ford looks... well he looks kinda like how he did decades ago when he had sent that postcard and Stan had come running because well, its Ford.

Ford looks insane, primal and unhinged, like he hasn't seen the light of day in weeks. And Dipper had told Stan, had been worried but Stan brushed it off because Ford locking himself in the lab and avoiding everybody, avoiding him wasn't a new development.

But now Stan’s worried because that wild-eyed look is directed at him again and the cowardly little animal in him is screaming at him to run.

It’s like Ford knows what he's thinking because before Stan has a chance to decide if he's going to shut down or entertain that scared little animal, Ford is grasping at him and pulling him deeper into the dingy little basement.

Stan trips and he fully expects his back to hit the floor but fords got and arm wrapped low on his back that keeps him from falling fully. And stan's hand is also tangled in fords sweater so even if Ford had let him fall, well they would have gone down together.

But then he catches sight of that thing again and it looks vaguely like a gun and why did he have to get saddled with the insane twin? He doesn't even have time to flinch because a bright light floods his vision and he blanks.

For a second, Stan's mind goes black and there's a strange humming in his ears. But then he hears a laugh he hasn't heard in forever. Soft and joyous and for a moment stan smiles. It's Ford's laugh.

Because he and Stan become one. And everything is warm and bright and as it should be. For a moment everything is right. It feels like coming home.

His-Their eyes open and Ford's confused? No, Stans confused.

"Sixer? Lee?" Their voice says, soft and bewildered. They look around, searching for each other. Stan? Ford? Where did they go? They look down and their vision swims. Four hands, five fingers? Six? It all blurs together.

Is this me, they think as one. Finally as one. Four hands run up the sides of their one body then stretch out for their wide eyes to view. Ford can feel his giddiness rising unbidden. And a whisper from Stan, rising to meet Ford. Uncertain but matching nonetheless.

Finally

Finally together... Finally fixed... Finally right.

They spin slowly, as if that will give them a better view of what they are now, and they catch their reflection in some dim glass. Ford wants to smile but their face drops, eyes horrified.

"What did you do," Stan says, voice a cutting accusation. Nausea erupts in their stomach. And that isn't right. Why isn't it right?

Something is wrong. Everything is so very wrong. Ford's head hurts. Or is it Stans. He doesn't know. They can't tell.

"I fixed it. I fixed us," Ford says and it isn't right either. Why is it still so wrong? Stan is angry. But why is he angry? Why aren't they happy? They're together. After all this time they're finally together again.

Ford can feel Stan pulling away. It's like their mind is splitting in two. Hot searing pain shoots through their head, four eyes closing when the world starts to spin.

Ford grasps ahold of stan and refuses to let go. He can't let Stan ruin this, ruin them. He will not let Stan destroy everything he's worked towards again. They've been apart for so long- too long but not anymore. Besides, this is for them. Stan will just have to understand. They are one now. Broken and wrong but one nonetheless.

"Let me go," They yell, tugging apart furiously. Their shape shifts and distorts but doesn't split. Ford won't let them. They snap back together painfully, stumbling on two bulky legs, one that branches into two feet. Wrong.

"No! This is what we wanted right," their voice bellows, loud and angry and wrong. So very wrong. "For us to be together. Always together."

They grip at their hair as if trying to pull themselves back apart. Stan.

"Not like this. I never asked for this." they shout back, voice sharp and hurt and why aren't they happy now. They should be happy. This is right. This is how they are meant to be.

Even as the anger and hurt courses through their entire being, Ford knows he wouldn't want to be any other way. Stan's angry and scared but at least they're one. They're shattered and hurting but even then some small part burns in them, it's a tiny little ember but it's both of them and it says yes.

Another set of hands reach for the ones in their hair, pulling them out and restraining them. Betrayal spikes, scorching and increasing rapidly even after years of dormancy. Ford.

"Stop being so ungrateful! You're always so-." angry tears spill from their eyes. Decades of hurt and anger and resentment spill forth to mix into a sense numbing cocktail but most of all they feel alone. So very alone. Them.

They grapple and struggle and Ford's device glints from the corner of their eyes. Ford can feel Stan's intent before their body even moves. Being one now, it's like their minds have melded which means Stan knows the device's purpose. And he intends to separate them.

"NO!" Ford bellows, voice priggish and angry, hurt tinting the singular word so strongly that their body stalls. Why would stan- Why doesn't he want them to be together?

"Grunkle Stan?" Their head whips to the left, eyes locking with a confused and tired Mabel’s. Their focus splits, body jerking in an awkward aborted movement as Stan tries to move forward and Ford holds him back.

“Pumpkin grab that- Mabel don't-” And why can they never agree on anything. When did everything go so wrong? 

Flashes of being in this very lab, so long ago- but no, it was before that even.

Mabel stares at them, scared and confused and stan has never wanted her to look at him like that ever. But Ford doesn't register it because for a moment, one split second, Stan stops fighting him. 

They don't hesitate to rush forward, very much intent on destroying their creation before it has a chance to be used against them. To hurt them.

Two small hands wrap around it before they can get ahold of it. Mabel clutches it to her chest, watching them with something too close to fear. They freeze in place, hands raising in surrender.

"Sweetie," Falls from their lips, pleading. For what though, they aren't quite sure. Because their mind, it should be one yet it isn't. It's at odds, fragmented by a fear and necessity that clash so strongly it could tear universes apart.

“Press the green- Don't you dare-” They speak at once, words and thoughts overlapping. Large hands cover their mouth, two others gripping uselessly at wrist that refuse to budge, because regardless of whatever insanity that has plagued Fords mind to make them act this way, Stan will not let their voice- their words even hint at a threat towards Mabel.

Mabel's head bobs, looking from them down to the thing in her hands, unsure of what to do. Stan nods, eyes pleading.

Ford lashes out, angry and hurt and thrashing like a wild dog. 'Stanley please no. Why don't you want us to be-' Stan is retreating, silent and distant. 'Lee. LEE!'

Everything goes dark.

Ford rises slowly, head spinning and ears ringing. He has the worst headache he has ever experienced. He stares at his hands, splayed on the floor. Two hands, six fingers. Wrong.

His head whips up and his gaze finds Stan's crumpled form across from him on the floor. Stan's glaring at him, thick angry tears spilling down red cheeks.

No. No!

His head turns slowly and his eyes fall on Mabel. Mabel who is standing with his prototype in shaky hands looking between a separated Ford and Stan. He... failed. And now they're...

Apart.

Broken.

Wrong.

[electric-plants]

still stuck here btw

[feedthefandomfest]

CONGRATS, @fic-over-cannon!! I love the trend so far of people shouting out the oldest fic they managed to find. So cool! Please accept this badge to commemorate your victory.

WELL DONE 💜

Finally completed my first @feedthefandomfest comment card bingo! I’ve been meaning to do one for a while now, and the old fic edition just really lit a fire under me. Fun fact, one of the fics I read and commented on was written before I was born!

Maybe I’ll try and complete another line on this card before I start another one?

If anyone’s looking to get more motivated to comment and interact with authors, this was a really fun way to do it!

[feedthefandomfest]

BINGO WINNERS BOARD: Old Fic Edition

All the folks keeping fandom FED 🍽️

SINGLE BINGO

@ihni, @kingstoken, @fic-over-cannon

[juliaswickcrs]

Reyna & Aegon + Tragedy

"Bards would sing songs of King Aegon II and his Dornish paramour. Just as poems would be written and plays composed across the narrow sea. The artists would have you believe it was a love for the ages, two people divided by class and kingdom overcoming all odds to be with one another regardless of status or thought for others.

Some believe the affair to be purely manipulation on the Evenstar’s part. A witch beguiling the King with spells and potions. A ploy to sit herself on the Iron Throne. Queen Helaena’s letters to her younger brother, however, tell a different story.

She writes of the King’s nigh obsession with the Dornish girl and her rebuffs to his advances. It was only when he took her riding on Sunfyre their love story truly began to unfold. Queen Helaena would claim her handmaiden was just as smitten with the King as he was with her.

It was said when Aegon II was poisoned, so was the last of Queen Reyna’s good will. And she let out a scream that shook the very foundations of the Red Keep. Some claimed it could have cracked the moon.

But the truth has been lost to the history books. All that remains is the dagger the two used to bind their blood on their wedding day. Dragonbone and Valyrian Steel, it was last seen on Prince Rhaegar's body at the Battle of the Trident. Robert Baratheon later took it in the spoils of war."

@bisexualterror @foxesandmagic @iron-parkr @camiemendess @a-song-of-quill-and-feather

@arrthurpendragon @starcrossedjedis @drbobbimorse @kingsmakers @noratilney

@stanshollaand @astarionbae @darth-caillic @mystic-scripture @aliverse

@misshiraethsworld @asirensrage @eddiemunscns

HOTD TAGLIST: @misskatiewrites (wanna be added? Lmk!)