#this was not meant to turn out as a ficlet and yet… here we are

[lavenderstobins]

Stobin childhood friends AU headcanons?

I’ve been thinking about this and I Finally have some ideas

I think first and foremost they’d be close childhood friends who drift as they get older and then get thrown back together again. Like, Steve’s a year older, so there’s already that gap between him starting high school and Robin starting high school, and they live in such different worlds that I think it would ultimately push them apart… until it doesn’t.

More under the cut, because this got long.

It starts with socks.

They meet on the school playground. Robin had tried to join their game of soccer and Tommy had sneered at her that girls didn’t play soccer, boys did. Robin had said that was stupid, and besides, Tommy couldn’t even score, so what makes him the decider of who gets to play football?

The other boys had laughed at that, so Carol had loyally pushed Robin over, and she’d scraped all up her knee. Carol had frozen, thinking Robin was going to snitch and get her in trouble, but Robin had only wiped the blood away, lip trembling, and stalked off. It had been up to Steve to ‘negotiate peace���, because Carol would get grounded if she got detention again and Tommy refused to apologise to someone who made him look stupid.

Robin had scoffed at him when he’d walked over. Steve couldn’t help noticing that she’d bled through her white mid-calf socks. She was going to get in trouble with her parents, because his mom always got mad when he got blood on his clothes.

He’d told her as much, matter of factly. “There’s blood on your socks.” She’d looked at him with narrowed eyes, and he’d continued, “I know how to clean them.”

She’d looked at him stupid, and he’d defensively said that his nanny knew how to get rid of stains, so the offer is there.

Robin had taken it, so after school, he’d explained to his nanny and Robin came home with them. They had to wait for her socks to get cleaned so Steve awkwardly showed her around his room, and Robin had immediately started rummaging around and commenting on things. By the time the socks were clean, they’d both forgotten that’s why they were even there, and they’d become fast friends.

Tommy and Carol didn’t exactly like Robin, but they respected that she wasn’t a snitch. Steve liked Robin a lot. She didn’t really act like a girl, not the way Carol always did, and she wasn’t scared of spiders, which, was like, ten million cool points.

So Steve and Robin became friends in school, and spent time together outside of school, and both of them were often left alone it wasn’t uncommon for one to spend the day at the other’s house to be watched by the babysitter, or nanny, in Steve’s case.

I think things started feeling different when they hit puberty, because so much emphasis is put onto girls and boys. Steve was self conscious because of his squeaky voice, and Robin didn’t like that she had to wear bras now, but for the most part they were still SteveandRobin, best friends.

Then Steve started high school, and he found himself popular, and busier, and he was spending less and less time with Robin. Robin, at that point, was sore about Barb ditching her for Nancy, so when Steve started to pull away she stopped trying. Neither of them really fully noticed what was happening until it had been weeks without them spending time together.

Steve told himself that it was because Robin hadn’t started high school yet, and when she did, everything would be back to normal. Except when Robin started high school, she didn’t fall into popularity like he did. She wasn’t considered cool or a party girl. She didn’t want to attend the parties at all.

I think the final straw for them at that point was some jocks making fun of Robin, and Steve had joined in by making a joke about something Robin had shown him, and he hadn’t understood why it was a big deal when Robin got upset. He’d insisted they were all just joking, that they didn’t mean anything by it, but Robin had turned around and said they were all nothing but bullies. The other jocks had mockingly “oooh”ed at her, but Steve was genuinely hurt that she saw him like that, and when Robin started avoiding him, he avoided her, too.

Which brings us to the s1 plot, because it’s only after the shit with Jonathan and Nancy that it occurs to Steve that he had genuinely acted like an asshole. He tried to catch Robin at some point to apologise to her, but she always mysteriously managed to avoid him.

He’d known they were in Click’s class together in this AU, but Robin would’ve been pointedly ignoring him, so that doesn’t change too much. It does, however, mean that he’s horribly aware the entire year that Robin’s sitting behind him, and that hurts more than Jonathan punching him in the face did.

They don’t have anymore shared classes after that, which is both a blessing and a curse. He sees her in the marching band when he’s playing for the basketball team, and that’s the closest he gets to being near her those days.

Then, 1985, his first shift at Scoops Ahoy, the stupid job his dad made him get. He shows up early to make a good impression like his dad had drilled into him and discovers that Robin also works there, and that she’s his coworker for that shift. Robin looks like she might throw up. He half expects her to walk out.

She doesn’t, though. Turns out, she needs this job and its shitty pay as much as he does. The first few shifts are spent in mostly frosty quiet, conversation only happening when deemed absolutely necessary. It makes Steve’s skin itch. He’d once known everything about her life and now she can’t even meet his eyes.

It’s hard to work shifts and maintain silence, though, so slowly, day by day, things warm up between them. Robin talks to him, even if it’s just a complaint about a shitty customer. He tries desperately not to seem too eager in taking it.

They’re not exactly friends again. He’s not naive enough to think that slinging ice cream together undoes the hurt of before, or that they’re okay again. But the work environment is friendly. Robin teases him for striking out with girls and makes snarky remarks when he does something stupid. They complain about customers and bitch on their breaks. It’s something, and he cradles it, like a flame being shielded from the wind.

Then Dustin comes barrelling in, and they’re wrapped up in being true American heroes, and suddenly they’re trapped miles underground and held captive by evil Russians. Everything happens in a blur, and Robin is there with him, and he tries to apologise to her for what he’d done but she interrupts him and says she doesn’t want to hear it. She thinks they’re going to die, refuses to take an apology in her last moments. He doesn’t know how to tell her it isn’t a spur of the moment regret. Doesn’t know how to tell her he’s regretted it since it happened, that he figured out too late he’d fucked up.

Dustin and Erica rescue them. They throw up the drugs in their system in a bathroom, and they drive out to the middle of nowhere for Dustin to set up some device, and they crash a car to stop a flayed guy from killing their friends, and they throw fireworks at a huge monster made of melted flesh. It all feels surreal.

Afterwards, Steve finds Robin huddled under a shock blanket, staring off into space in the direction of the now-burning Starcourt. She’s sitting alone. The kids have all been taken home, with poor El going with the Byers and Max going with the Sinclairs.

Robin’s parents haven’t shown up. Just like his haven’t.

He takes a seat next to her, his own shock blanket draped over his shoulders. Her face, at least, isn’t beaten like his, but he can see cuts, bruises, burn marks from the fireworks on her arms.

There’s a cut on her leg. It’s bleeding through the white mid-calf socks of her Scoops Ahoy uniform.

Quietly, he says, “There’s blood on your socks.”

Robin looks at him, her eyes tired, but there’s the smallest ghost of a smile on her face. “I know someone who knows how to clean them.”

[wileys-russo]

pls can i request a ficlet/blurb: your supporting less in australia for the world cup on her days off you meet her at her hotel and walk for hours around the cities you’re in, both adamant on bringing zel with you since her family is not there and being her “siblings she never had” anyway your brother his wife and your niece fly over to support lessi aswell, both of your families obviously being close but since you only speak to your brother, only he is around. watching less score the winner in the semi finals was a dream for all of you, listening to your niece ramble incoherent words about how ‘auntie lessless’ is her idol. when she comes up after the game to see you all and greeting your brother, her family gives her a minute to soak it all up in your arms, with you whispering sweet nothing in your ear then finally your niece comes rushing up to her and gives lessi a hug just cute moments with the fam 🥲

favorite aunty II a.russo

"are we there now?" your niece asked for the one hundreth time as you withheld a groan and alessia hid her smile behind her hand, chin resting on her fist.

"not yet lilah, i promise i will tell you when we are. look you're missing out on the view!" you turned her head to continue to look out the window.

"look lilah theres a pretty bird!" katie clapped for your nieces attention, pointing out the window as the five year old ooh'd and you caught zel's eye as she glanced over the seat mouthing a thank you.

"we're here!" you winced a few minutes as the girl screamed seeing the sign for the zoo and wriggled around eagerly in her seat. "inside voice lilah." you sighed with a smile, ruffling her hair as she leaned into your side.

"if you weren't already the favourite aunty i think this will secure it for you quite nicely." your girlfriend leaned forward and whispered in your ear, kissing your cheek.

"by blood i'm her only aunty, there isn't much competition." you rolled your eyes playfully and helped your niece out of her seat belt, hoisting her up onto your hip as you patiently awaited the rest of the girls and their families to file out.

"can i go with zelly?" delilah asked hopefully pointing to your girlfriends teammate who beamed making your face soften. "you can. but hold her hand the entire time and no running off yeah lilah?" you warned sternly, the blonde nodding eagerly as you passed her over the seat and she filed off the bus chattering away to the older woman.

"looks like that competition for favourite auntys heating up eh? i'd like to throw my hat in the ring!" ella grined as her and alessia followed you off the bus. "you wish tooney she can barely understand you!" you teased, ducking away as the brunette reached out to hit you.

"hands to yourself if you want to keep them tooney." alessia warned, the taller girl throwing her arm over your shoulder as you pulled a face at her best friend who drew her finger over her throat playfully.

given the semi finals were coming up quickly and the girls hadn't had much down time the last week the staff had organised for the team and some of their families and partners to spend the day at the zoo.

having been with your girlfriend just over two and a half years now you'd leapt at the opportunity to come support her in australia, having been right by her side as she received sarina's phone call confirming her selection for the world cup squad.

you knew what it meant to her and with all the stress placed on her shoulders from her transfer you were relieved that at least there was one less thing for her to worry over now.

never having been close with your own family bar your older brother you were welcomed into alessia's with open arms from the get go. her parents already thought of you as another daughter and her brothers teased you as if they'd known you their entire life, it was a comfort not known to you in your youth.

given how things were growing up for you to be welcomed in so lovingly and so sincerely from people who at the time hardly knew you meant the world.

then once things became even more serious with you and alessia she'd organised for your brother, his wife and his daughter delilah to join all of you for a meal, her family of course falling in love with the little blonde bundle of energy that was your niece.

so when it became public knowledge that alessia had been selected your brother booked some time off and flew over with delilah to support your girlfriend which made the strikers heart absolutely melt.

"aunty lessless!" the blonde turned away from her conversation with ella, bending down and opening her arms with a grin as your niece crash tackled into her. "names so nice she insists on saying it twice." you teased playfully at your nieces choice of nickname for your girlfriend.

"hey lilah who do you love more? aunty n/n or aunty lessless?" ella smirked as the four of you wandered around the zoo, the rest of the girls all scattered and looking at things at their own pace, mary and katie trailing not far behind the four of you deep in their own conversation.

you watched through narrowed eyes as your girlfriend whispered something in your nieces ear causing her to grin. "aunty lessless!" delilah announced happily as alessia smirked smugly and your jaw dropped.

"delilah!" you huffed, pouting and crossing your arms over your chest as your girlfriend tickled the five year olds sides and ran off with her towards the elephants. "looks like we know the winner of the favourite aunty competition is, tough luck kid." ella patted your back with a mocking pout as you shoved her away.

"she will have promised her something for that answer, you know you're her favourite." katie pulled you into a hug seeing the frown etched into your features as ella stepped on the back of marys trainer, the keeper charging off after her.

"i'm sorry your family couldn't come zel." you smiled sympathetically as the two of you wandered over to where alessia was stood with your niece. "its alright, i know they would if they could." the older girl brushed it off but you knew it saddened her as you squeezed her tightly.

"you know i love you like a sister, if that helps." you smiled sincerely, quite close with the majority of your girlfriends united team mates. "yeah and ya annoy me like one too." katie sighed before grinning as you rolled your eyes.

"aunty n/n!" you looked over to where your niece sat happily in alessia's arms, wildly gesturing you over with her arms. "that one looks like you." the five year old grinned pointing to one of the elephants as you gasped in mock offence.

"right, no more hugs for that. bye lilah!" you crossed your arms and pretended to storm off, your niece yelling out after you and wiggling as alessia placed her down on her feet.

"hug me!" delilah demanded running toward you as you dodged her, repeatedly moving away from her much to the little blondes growing annoyance.

"quick lilah get her!" you stumbled a little as your girlfriends strong arms wrapped around you, holding you in place as your niece slammed into your leg, hugging you tightly. "caught you!" delilah grinned happily, smacking your leg and sprinting off toward katie and mary.

"lilah be careful!" you called out with a frown as she stuck a thumbs up your way and was scooped up by katie. "smile would you grumpy." your girlfriend pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek as you winced and elbowed her off.

"no get off! you turned her against me." you glared at the taller girl accusingly who laughed at your annoyance, once again wrapping herself tightly round you.

"better get used to it baby, as the favourite aunty now i'll make sure we keep teaming up against you." alessia teased with a smile as you tried to wrench yourself away from her.

you settled instantly the moment her lips pressed against yours, the taller girl stealing a kiss and tugging you a little more out of sight, pressing you against a large fake rock.

"already teaching her about bribery are we?" you raised an eyebrow knowingly as the striker pulled away, your arms now looped round her shoulders as you played fondly with the baby hairs on the nape of her neck.

"no idea what you mean love." alessia grinned innocently making you roll your eyes, the few of you exchanging a few sweet kisses, soaking up the brief moment of peace together.

"so what did you say you'd give her to secure the favourite aunty position then?" "that i'd score a goal for her next game." "oh thats so unfair baby, i can't compete with that!"

~

and boy oh boy did the striker follow through on her promise.

the stadium errupted as alessia netted the winner, your heart swelling so much with pride you thought it might burst as you screamed loudly.

pulled into a tight hug by her brother gio you watched the blonde lift her arms up and run toward the away end, her eyes finding yours as she pointed right up at you before she was tackled to the ground by her team mates.

"aunty lessless did it!" you scooped up your niece as she clambered over luca's lap to get to you, sending the boy an apologetic smile as he winked and turned back to his conversation with your brother.

"she did! she promised you she would right? she scored that for you lilah." you smiled softly, gio leaning over to tickle the five year old who squealed and smacked at his large hands. "lilah!" you laughed as the girl climbed practically on top of you, reaching out for alessia's mum carol whose face lit up from where she sat in the row behind yours.

"go on then, little wriggle monster." you chuckled, lifting her over into carols arms as she tightly hugged the older woman, babbling away about her aunty lessless and recounting her she had promised delilah a goal yesterday at the zoo.

when the final whistle blew your face ached from how wide a grin was plastered on your face, screaming and cheering till your throat was red raw, jumping around and hugging everyone.

alessia's body was exhausted after playing what was a gruelling match, and she groaned quietly as she started the climb up toward where everyones families were waiting, the rest of the stadium having cleared out as the team had celebrated and changed together.

though any shred of fatigue was washed away the moment her eyes landed on you, lips curling into a smile as you threw your head back and laughed at something your brother said, alessias heart melting at how her dad wrapped you in a tight hug just as he would hug her growing up.

"here she is then, the winning goal scorer!" gio spotted her first, yelling out loudly with a whistle causing everyones families to explode into a round of applause, alessia's cheeks blushing as her team mates jostled her around.

everything finally dying down and everyones attention focused in on their own families once again alessia reached hers, your brother pulling her into a tight hug and kissing her head.

you were next, stood the row of chairs above where she stood you were for once the taller of the two of you, alessia normally having a good foot or two on you.

you couldn't keep the grin off your face as your girlfriends head settled on your chest, long arms winding around your torso as your own looped around her neck. "your hairs all wet." you giggled into her shoulder as she teasingly rubbed her damp head against you.

"i am so incredibly proud of you lessi baby, i don't even have the words to express it." you whispered to her softly, rubbing her back as she squeezed you tightly, hiding her flushed cheeks in your shoulder.

her mum watched on with a fond smile, wrestling to keep the five year old tucked away in her arms at bay, wanting to give the two of you a moment to yourselves before she let delilah loose.

you murmered sweet nothings into alessia's hair as your hand continued to rub soothingly at her back, the striker peppering a few soft kisses against your neck and jaw before her lips found your own for a fleeting second. "my stargirl." you'd whispered adoringly as her hand reached up to rest on your cheek, both of your eyes locked lovingly for a moment, alessia gently forcing herself to pull away from you.

though no sooner had her arms unwrapped from your waist had two new little ones clung onto her leg, delilah chattering away a million miles an hour as alessia squatted down to her height allowing your niece to throw her arms around her neck in a tight hug.

"aunty lessless you did it! was that for me? like you said at the zoo?" delilah asked excitedly as alessia stood, picking up the five year old with her and resting her on her hip. "of course it was, just for you!" alessia poked at the girls nose causing her to scrunch it up adorably.

"kiss again!" your niece suddenly demanded, her small fist reaching out toward you and tugging on your top making your girlfriend laugh. "you heard her babe." alessia grinned, craning her head over as you pecked her lips and delilah giggled.

"again!" the five year old clapped as you rolled your eyes but pecked alessia's lips again much to your nieces delight, the demands nothing new.

neither you or your girlfriend could figure out why but there wasn't anything that seemed to amuse delilah more than making the two of you kiss, an amusingly common occurrence when you'd babysit, not that alessia would ever complain.

you were quick to take your niece from the footballer much to the five year olds protests, allowing your girlfriend to spend some quality time with the rest of her family as you distracted delilah, carting her around to chatter to several of the other lionesses and their families.

it seemed the excitement had worn her down and as everyone started to depart the stadium delilah was slumped in your arms dead asleep, chin resting on your shoulder as her soft snores sounded in your ear.

"must run in the family." alessia teased, appearing beside you as you smacked at her with your free hand, the blonde sneaking a kiss and fondly moving a few loose strands of hair out of delilahs face.

intertwining your free hands the two of you walked toward the busses in a comfortable silence, and unbeknownst to you the thoughts flying through alessia's head were this scenario in the future.

only this time, with your own child.

[nomsfaultau]

The Lambs Wolves Wear part 9

Dark SBI AU where Philza’s human children were replaced by monsters. Start of ficlet is here.

For all that “Wilbur” was blatantly hostile and suspicious at times, Philza somehow got the impression that “Technoblade” trusted him the least of the monsters. They were never at ease, rigid like a soldier standing guard. At least more often than not they were farming, which meant Philza worried the least about them hurting Tommy. Still, at meal time he watched them closely as the ghosts fed their chosen vessel.

Tommy held no reservations, sitting by the skeletal husk of his brother and swinging his legs, piling on extra of the potatoes “Technoblade” had harvested. Finally it was easy to get Tommy to eat his vegetables. Really the sole benefit from his stint as a cow, even if Philza had the new hassle of convincing him not to eat grass. And Philza was certain he was the real Tommy, as the “Tommy” sitting next to him was curling his barbed tail around Philza’s ankle. Tommy poked the bony ribs of “Technoblade”, pestering until they bent for him to whisper in their ear. “Technoblade” scarcely reacted as Tommy snickered, but the red lights dancing in their eye sockets darted for Philza, locked upon him like a target. 

“Technoblade” was by far less impulsive than the other two, but that just meant what ever nightmare they inflicted was calculated. Philza could tell they were scheming for all that they rarely imbued Technoblade’s features with expression. But Philza offered the ghosts a cheery grin though he knew it would never be returned.

A cold shiver of a spectral claw tapped on his shoulder, and Philza canted his head. “Do you need something, mate?” “Technoblade” shook his head, and for some reason Tommy looked disappointed. “Well you did wonderful on these potatoes. You’re so hardworking, it’s very kind of you to help me out so much.” Sometimes praise would get Philza a slight smile, since unlike the real Technoblade the imposter didn’t become awkward about it. Yet for some reason “Technoblade” dropped their gaze, sweating slightly. Philza didn’t let his unease trickle into his smile. Usually they swallowed sycophancy well, what changed? 

He hid his confusion with a sip of his tea, only for his tongue to freeze mid-drink. Philza’s eyes flew open, frantically yanking to escape the searing cold only for a frozen block of tea to pull out of his cup. Philza couldn’t help his bewildered laugh, intertwining with Tommy’s cackles. He pried the frozen drink off and winced as ice shattered everywhere. 

The shards of tea flew back together, filling the cup that “Technoblade” caught with spectral hands. It floated back into Philza’s hands, who sat it down to avoid another prank. It was distinctly not in the vein of the stoic “Technoblade’s” humor, or the real Technoblade for that matter given he was far funnier than his counterpart. No, the simplistic practical joke reeked of Tommy, and he turned upon the boy with an eyebrow raised. “Tommy?” 

“Wasn’t me! I don’t have ghost powers!” 

“Sorry, sir,” “Technoblade” mumbled. “It wasn’t particularly noble, but I hadn’t-” Tommy elbowed the spirit vessel roughly and they went quiet, clearly uncomfortable. 

“You said hurting feelings is just as wrong as hurting small squishy human bodies,” “Tommy” announced with a nod as he parroted Philza’s own words. He looked at Philza expectantly for praise, and received a vague head pat. “And you said not to hurt Tommy, and he would be very sad if he wasn’t allowed to be annoying so we HAVE to do everything he says!” 

“Uhh…right,” “Technoblade” agreed dryly. “In our case, Tommy threatened to claim we hurt him and so we were forced to comply or risk being grounded. A fate worse than death.” And given they’d died countless times…hm. 

“Tommy!” Philza scolded. “You shouldn’t manipulate your brothers like that.” Philza hadn’t planned for Tommy somehow becoming the ringleader. That…might make this next part more difficult. 

He blanched. “I’m not Tommy, I’m “Tommy”! I’m innocent!” 

“No you aren’t. Nice try, but you’re grounded, mate.”

“Tommy” cheered. “WHOOO! He’s grounded! That means you’re going to grind him into mush with a mortar and pestle and bury him all over the place, right? TAKE THAT, WORM-FOOD! I’m the preferred Tommy!” He stuck out a forked tongue at Tommy. “He loves me more than you, he loves meee more than youuuuu~”

Philza paused. “I’m sorry, what exactly do you boys think grounding is?” 

“Tommy” scowled. “I know what it is! That’s how it worked in hell.” 

“Wilbur” wouldn’t look at him. “...if it were the Fae Queen, I’d guess it’d mean being trapped in an underground labyrinth for weeks alone. Or treated like the dirt she walks on, but that was always.” 

“That’s not what it means. If you’re grounded Philza despises you for eternity and you can never redeem yourself, cursed to forever roam the land without a chance to move on to the next life. It’s called grounding because he’s anchoring us to the mortal coil,” “Technoblade” posited confidently. “And also extra chores, probably.” 

…that would explain why they all reacted so horrifically. And while it was rather effective at protecting Tommy, he thought in the long run the monsters holding any fear towards him would prevent the underestimation he was relying on. “I…suspect your past experiences are warping your understanding. In this household, grounding means you are housebound for a few days and help with extra chores while we talk about how to act better in the future. I’m not- I’m not going to torture you, good god. I won’t hurt any of you.” He can’t, no matter how much he should want to. He hadn’t seen any of his real children in months; shouldn’t he want them slaughtered? Shouldn’t he hate them? But Philza only hated himself for the weakness. 

“Wait………grounding means we get to spend more time with you?” “Tommy” asked slowly. “And hurting Tommy means we’re grounded…?” 

Philza had just enough time to think oh no before “Tommy” turned into a lion and threw himself at Tommy. Though Philza barely held him back, that just meant a different monster got there first. “Technoblade” nearly punched Tommy in the face, but that turned out to be one of “Wilbur’s” illusions, who was going the emotion route by trying to show Tommy images of his brothers dying in really gruesome ways. Kicking “Tommy” back, Philza lunged across the dinning room table, scooping his boy up as fire began to spread through his house, spectral dead weaving between illusions as the three began to bicker about who got to hurt Tommy first. The dinning room chairs began to float up and hurl themselves violently at “Tommy” and immediately bursting into cinders. “Wilbur” egged them on further in a desperate bid to have his competition annihilate each other given how outclassed he was. 

Panic exploded in Philza’s chest as he realized how badly he’d messed up. He clutched Tommy to his chest, trying to protect him as best he could. Tommy, feeling awfully guilty about having threatened them not knowing their original interpretations of grounding, kept shouting apologies, having apparently not clocked that the brawl was about who got to murder him first.

“ENOUGH!” Philza screamed. “YOU’RE ALL GROUNDED!” A chorus of cheers broke out, the monsters ceasing the violence immediately. “All of you go to your rooms!” A round of protest, but he quashed it. Tommy stuck out his tongue as the monsters dragged their feet, and Philza sighed. “Tommy, you’re also grounded.” The boy protested. “No, you started this mess by manipulating them. You’re going to spend your time thinking about how to apologize.”

“But you already sent “Tommy” to our room!” 

“You’ll be by my side.” Philza stared flatly at their uproarious objections. “Grounding is a punishment tailored to the offense. I want all of you to think about how ripping each other to shreds in a race to see who can attack their brother first is completely unacceptable. At dinner I will bring supper to you and we will privately discuss the matter.” Somehow, it worked despite how clearly they all hated it. 

He waited till they were gone, then dragged Tommy out of the house, brushing objects with his iron ring to rule out illusions and tossing a handful of salt over his shoulder before he began to speak. “Listen to me,” Philza whispered as he cupped Tommy’s face. “What you did was immensely dangerous. You cannot be messing with them like that.” He knew much of it was his fault as well, but it was more important to stress the point to Tommy. 

Tommy’s brow furrowed. “I wouldn’t have bullied them like that if I knew that’s what they thought grounding was. That stuff sounded scary. Who did that to them? Are my new brothers okay?” 

“I-” Philza was blindsided at his concern for them. “I…don’t know. You have to be careful around them.” 

“So I don’t hurt their feelings?” 

“...exactly. When they’re frightened, or mad, they can cause accidents like the one you just saw.” And yet Tommy was enchanted by the show of lethal power, like they were fairy tale heroes. What spiked Philza’s terror only had the boy eager with excitement. He couldn’t see how Philza fought tooth and nail to eke out what little safety they had now. 

And that naïveté would get him killed if Philza didn’t act quickly enough. For a brief second he’d hoped- no. Didn’t matter. They’d all tried to slaughter Tommy just to spend more time with him. They’d proved his children would never be safe if they were around. Philza’s resolve hardened, quashing the part of him trying to protest. He had no other choice. 

Philza had to get rid of the monsters to protect his family.

Next>

[sinisterexaggerator]

Fair Recompense

Tech x Gen! Reader

Warnings: None. Small bit of fluff and a kiss.

Word count: 1.3k

Notes: I decided to write a series of "goodbye" ficlets where the reader takes / removes something from each of CF99 as they part ways, however this one, along with Wrecker, deviated a little bit from that path. In this case, the story is left open-ended.

Crosshair || Echo || Hunter || Wrecker

---

Luck was your business, born into a family who owned a bit of property on Ord Mantell. While most had to search out creative ways to eke a living, you had it made.

As the proud owner of a spacious hangar, it meant you did not have to want for much. Credits were earned not by hard work, but by allowing patrons to dock their starships; there were never enough empty bays to go around.

Still, you were fair; you did not make it a habit to overcharge. Not only that, but you offered droids, specialized equipment, and your mechanical expertise when needed to those who could use a helping hand to make repairs.

It was here that one particular man caught your eye. While his companions found better things to do, this clone remained.  Besides being one of several million replicas of a long-dead bounty hunter, he looked familiar to you. You vaguely recalled witnessing his chiseled mug somewhere on the HoloNet; he was plagued by notoriety for a Riot Race he had won back on Serolonis, yet you failed to mention it.

Tech was his name; he did not pay you any mind as you watched him work from day-to-day. You were careful not to get too close, hoping that he would not take notice of your studious appraisal – at least at first.

Then, you found it was hard to capture his attention, even if you desired to strike up a conversation. So caught up in his own affairs, he barely seemed to register your presence except when rent was coming due.

You asked about his travels, and what he liked to do for fun. You offered him fresh Jawa Juice, and even tried to inquire about his ship.

Answers were scant, his patience sparse when it came to what he perhaps thought was frivolous small talk that served no purpose, or so it seemed. You had become so enthralled with him that your heart felt heavy in your chest with each rejection, even if it was only something you yourself perceived.  

Determination took hold as you decided to attempt a different tactic, hearing that he would soon take off on another mission for Ciddarin Scaleback. Word traveled fast in these parts, and rumors had begun to circulate; Tech was wanted by the Empire, but as far as you were concerned, his secret was safe with you.

“Tech?” you asked, more so to alert him to your approach. He turned; he was undeniably handsome, no matter that his gorgeous brown eyes rarely lifted from off his datapad.

“Yes, what is it?” he questioned offhand, fiddling with some unknown sequence of code that was reflected within the transparisteel lenses of his round goggles.

“I hear you are heading out tomorrow,” you remarked, twisting your foot against the flattop of your hangar; you kept your hands behind your back on purpose.

“Do not worry, I shall settle our bill before we vacate the premises,” he reassured you dryly. He did not give you a second thought, or even a second glance.

“I’m not worried,” you shyly stated, admiring the distinctive features of his face. “I want to give you something,” you timidly informed him.

Tech’s forefinger pressed against the bridge of his eyewear, pushing it snug against his nose. Finally, he looked at you, amber-colored eyes even more beautiful up close, or as close as you dared.

“I do not understand,” he replied, his tone neither harsh nor excited. It was an honest declaration on his end; suddenly your palms were sweating, your hold loosening on the item stowed away just out of sight.

Tech arched a brow, taking note of the minor change in your appearance with muted curiosity, yet he could not keep from adding his two credits. “You appear to be ‘under the weather,’” he said laconically, Tech’s tone changing to emphasize the usage of this specific idiom. “Perhaps you could do with some rest.”

“I’m— I’m fine, really, I—” You bit your lip, gazing at him as if there was a gulf the size of Yavin Prime between you; you felt like you might cry, however asinine the notion. “I brought you a laser-caliper, since you keep having to borrow mine,” you whispered.

“Why?” he asked; it was a sincere question, Tech unsure how he had earned such a gift when he had done nothing to warrant this show of kindness.

You brought the small tool out from behind your back, fiddling with it in your hands. You hoped your answer would be good enough to satisfy him. “Because— because you need one of your own,” you humbly offered.

“And what do you want in exchange?” The query baffled you; you had not thought that far ahead. Should you want something? All you had wished to do was make his life a little easier.

You glanced about, anxious, and suddenly unsure. Was this somehow too forward? Was it obvious you had grown to enjoy his company, however short he was with you? Were you making a fool out of yourself?

“To see your eyes,” you blurted out. The man paused any movement, his attractive countenance, as always, an unreadable mask of what you assumed to be near-cold indifference.

“I beg your-?”

“-Please,” you interrupted, your voice laced with desperation. The word had exited too quickly from your lips; you felt ashamed.

“I’m sorry—” you corrected, not knowing which way to turn, which way to walk in order to rid yourself of this overtly embarrassing predicament.

“The recompense you have requested seems fair,” Tech asserted plainly.

You mildly gasped, a small intake of breath that caught in your throat. The tall, handsome clone strode forward, holding out his hand to take the laser-caliper.

“And a kiss,” you added, too brazen for your own good; you presumed you had pushed your luck too far. Still, you waited, your wincing becoming more defined the longer his silence stretched between you both.

“Fine,” he answered tersely, causing your eyes to widen and expand. He stood before you, inactive, delaying his departure back to where the Marauder camped, eager for his tending.

Slowly, thoughtfully, you extended your arm, gifting to him the laser-caliper you had promised. He took it from you, taking the time to inspect it before squarely staring through to your soul.

“Well?” he asked, both hands full up with his datapad and the tool now in his possession. Nervously, you searched his face, then you sought to do what had previously been thought unthinkable.

Meticulously, and with the utmost care, you lifted and removed Tech’s goggles from off his nose. Once loosed from his ears, you were deliberate with your intentions; you made sure not to pull a single strand of his curly hair.

Though you now appeared mostly as a blur, Tech could still make out your expression. He noted you looked pleased, and in turn he felt slightly amused, his feelings marked by the smallest upturn of his shapely lips.

“Now?” you asked, afraid he might change his mind at any moment.

“Now is as good a time as any,” he responded, Tech going so far as to tilt his body forward, his mouth mere centimeters from your own.

You craned your neck, taking a new liberty, your free hand meeting the turn of his cheek. You cradled his firm jaw in the crook of your palm as you unabashedly lingered, pressing into the soft flesh of his downy lips.

Then, he surprised you; he had clipped his datapad to his belt in one fluid motion, the backs of his gloved fingers tracing the curved line of your jaw. His caress extended from the base of your ear to the start of your soft neck; you could not help but to relax at his welcomed touch.

Your eyes closed as he attempted to deepen your kiss, the sound of your heartbeat drumming in your ears as you allowed Tech to take the lead.

It would last longer than you had ever hoped for, stealing your breath away. Once you found the wherewithal to break free of your shared embrace, Tech gave you the equivalent of a knowing smirk.

“Truth be told, I thought you would never ask.”

[k3yreviewer25]

WOE ARO CTUBBO FICLET BE UPON YE

fair warning, this contains referenced / implied sex, so take that into consideration 👍

(planning on adding more to this eventually but I'm busy with gift exchange stuff rn so this is it for now)

There were a lot of moments in Tubbo's life when he asked himself, "How did it come to this?"

Jolting awake on his cot in Pogtopia, face still searing and hot to the touch.

Staring down from the top of a wall as his best friend was dragged away from their home.

Staring up at a tower that stretched too far up to see the top, a tower that meant that his best friend was really and truly gone.

Blinking back to awareness on an elevator descending into the depths of a mountain.

Hovering a shaky hand over a button. The button. Their final solution.

But this was the first time it wasn't just a moment. There was no urgency, no threat cutting short his thoughts. He could give himself the time he needed to contemplate, to trace back every thread that had led him here.

To sitting in bed, so late that it was looping around to being early, watching the steady rise and fall of Ranboo's chest as they sleep.

He can't pinpoint exactly when this moment had become inevitable. Was it when Ranboo had put a tentative hand on Tubbo's thigh? Or when Tubbo had messaged them to come over in the first place? Maybe it hadn't even started here. Maybe it'd started in whatever timeline they'd first met. Maybe this had just been an accumulation of every moment they'd shared in all those previous timelines. Some kind of magnet drawing them back to each over and over again.

Ranboo had asked him once if he believed in soulmates, in another timeline. Pretty similar circumstances to where they were now. Ranboo's eyes had been glazed over and their breath choppy as they wheezed out the question, and Tubbo had been too exhausted to think about it properly.

"Yeah, sure, I reckon so." He didn't, not in the slightest, but it wasn't like it was a real question. Just one of those ones that people asked when they were playing at being romantic. If there was one thing Tubbo was great at, it was playing along. "What about you?"

"I do now." Tubbo couldn't help giggling. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing, you're just- you're really cute, dude."

Then it was Ranboo's turn to laugh breathlessly. "You're really just gonna call me 'dude' after that?"

"Oh, sorry sweetie." The pet name felt awkward in his mouth. He hoped Ranboo hadn't sensed that. "My pookie poo."

"Okay, maybe we can workshop that a little bit."

"Mm-hm." Not now, though. Now was the time for sleeping. Tubbo rolled over to rest his head on Ranboo's chest, right next to a scar that ran down the center of it. He'd been there for that one, watched as Ranboo lost their second life to a sword bursting through their back. And now they were both here. Together and safe, even though that always seemed an impossible dream on this server.

And it was, in the end. That timeline had been reset, just like so many before and after it. Ranboo doesn't have that scar now. They've only lost one life and it'd been to an arrow. The scar from it shines faintly on their throat, nearly hidden by the marks Tubbo had left on it.

This won't end like last time. It has to last. Dream XD was sealed away. They'd broken out of the loop. Things are finally beginning to settle into a sense of normalcy, even if some of the pieces are missing. If Tubbo has to go through losing and forgetting everyone and everything he knows all over again, he'll go crazy.

And all things considered, it isn't the worst timeline they could've ended on. He and Ranboo have both only lost a single life. Tommy, through some miracle, still has all three of his lives. Nobody's unearthed the Egg yet. There's no big villains or conflicts looming on the horizon.

It's a starting point. Albeit an imperfect one, but still. They can figure it out.

"Tubbo?" He startles, eyes flicking up to meet Ranboo's. How long have they been awake? "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just not really tired tonight." He doesn't need to bother Ranboo with the rest of it. "You can go back to sleep."

Of course Ranboo doesn't do that, because they're too much of a sweetheart for their own good. They sit up, the blanket slipping down to bunch around their hips, and Tubbo doesn't even bother with trying to be subtle about staring.

"A copper for your thoughts?"

Tubbo opens his mouth. Immediately snaps it shut again.

He could lie again. Tell Ranboo that it's nothing serious. Tell them that it's nothing a distraction wouldn't fix. It's a constant across the timelines that the two of them lie to each other, or at the very least omit some truths.

"Do you still believe in soulmates?" It falls out of his mouth before he can catch it.

"Um, yeah, I- I guess so." Ranboo rests their cheek on their palm, tail waving idly behind them. "Why do you ask?"

Tubbo shrugs. "I dunno. Just been thinking about it recently. You know, about all the other timelines, I guess. Like free will and all that."

"Oh, that's, um, some heavy stuff for four in the morning."

"Good thing I'm buff as hell then," Tubbo grins, flexing a bicep at Ranboo. "You wouldn't even believe how heavy my thoughts can get."

Only after he says it does he realize how close that is to an admission. It sounds like how Tommy talks about his own issues. Maybe he's starting to rub off on Tubbo. Next thing you know, Tubbo'll be going to therapy too.

Scooting a little closer, Ranboo presses a kiss to his arm. "Well, hey, if those thoughts ever, you know, get too heavy, I can help lighten the load."

They're teetering on the edge of something here, something more sincere and emotional than Tubbo has the bandwidth for at the moment. "You saying you wanna take my load, bossman? Cause there's still a couple hours before sunrise."

The flush that instantly spreads on Ranboo's face makes the redirection so, so worth it. "N-no, I mean- Well, yeah- I mean, if you want to-"

He cuts himself short as Tubbo slips a hand under the blanket. "Mm-hm?"

With a full body shudder and a deep sigh, Ranboo drapes himself over Tubbo's shoulder. "Mm-hm…"

Tubbo grins and pushes them down.

[jubilantmedusa]

Untitled Zukka Hurt/Comfort Ficlet #2

“It was good of you to bring him here,” Piandao said.

They were gathered in his library, dried and warmed and fed after their long flight through a misting sky. Night had fallen, the world lit now by torches and candles, casting strange shadows on their drawn faces.

Sokka’s arms felt empty. He had held Zuko through the flight as Zuko had shivered and shivered.

“Zuko’s inner flame has gone out.” Piandao’s voice was even, but the pinch of his mouth betrayed upset. “Not many people know the old ways, the healing of the Firebenders. But Zuko’s uncle does. I have the means to contact Iroh. There is hope yet.”

The silence in the room didn’t feel hopeful. “I thought the ‘inner flame’ thing was a metaphor,” Sokka said, bursting it.

“It’s more spiritual than physical, but it is very real,” Piandao explained. “Our bodies and spirits are entwined. Spiritual damage often manifests physically.”

“Like when you’re upset so you have nightmares,” Aang said.

Piandao gave a curt nod. “Similar,” he said. “This is more severe.”

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Sokka said. His stomach was churning. “Firebenders have an extra spirit part? And if that part is damaged they just waste away?”

That’s what’d been happening ever since Zuko’d thrown himself in front of Aang, taking an arrow laced with something sinister. A gift from Azula by way of the assassins that had been perusing them since they left the Western Air Temple.

At first Zuko’d been hyped up, unable to stop moving for hours and hours. When he crashed, Sokka thought it might actually be a good thing. Get some sleep. Be better in the morning.

But Zuko’d woken up disoriented, confused. And every time he’d woken since there was less of him.

He was growing colder. Sokka didn’t know what that meant. All he knew was that his arms were itching with emptiness.

“We all have inner flames of a sort,” Piandao said. His turned towards Sokka. “Even you and I. But Firebending… to create an element from the spirit’s own energy…” He swirled his hand, then winced, shaking his head. “Iroh will explain when he arrives.”

“When will that be?” Toph asked, leaning forward, harsh torchlight light shining directly in her sightless eyes. “Is he far away?”

“Iroh’s been in hiding since he escaped from Caldera, but I can reach him,” Piandao said, pointedly not answering the question. So they had where Iroh was then. He could be half a world away.

To Sokka’s right, Katara shifted, leaning forward, shadow dancing across her cheek. Sokka could see her eyes and… he knew that look. She had an answer on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t want to ask the question. “Master Piandao,” she said. Katara would push through anything, even this. “This has happened before.”

“Yes,” he said. “Though it’s exceedingly rare.”

Katara nodded, eyes coming in and out of view as she did. “It’ll kill him,” she said, and Sokka could see Aang sinking at her side, head bowing down until his forehead was pressed into the wooden table.

Now it was Sokka turn. He didn’t want to, but he had to, mouth choking on the words. “How long?”

Piandao’s mouth pinched further. “I’ve only read accounts,” he said, “Some say as long as two weeks. Others, three days.”

Sokka was on his feet before he could breath, his footfalls echoing impossibly loud as he thundered across the tatami floor.

It had already been four days.

—

The room where they put Zuko was small and square, usually used as a dormitory for Piandao’s students. It had a simple bed with plain gray sheets, a sturdy but unremarkable desk. Flames roared in its large fireplace, making the room almost uncomfortably warm.

That’s the reason they chose it. It was easy to keep warm.

A wooden chair had been pulled up beside the bed. In it, Fat sat, an empty bowl held in his hands. “You got him to eat?” Sokka said, stomach fluttering.

Fat responded with a single nod. “Zuko was always a dutiful student,” he said. “You’ll be staying with him a while?”

When Sokka nodded Fat rose to his feet. “He’ll rally,” Fat said, voice affectionately stern. “Food, rest, warmth. It will go a long way.” Sokka wasn’t sure if Fat actually believed that or if he, if all of them, were trying to will something into existence, trying to project onto Zuko a strength that wasn’t there.

The only light in the room came from candles and the fire. Maroon curtains were open but it was only black outside, moonless. Shadows danced on Zuko’s face as he lay still and quiet, dressed now in loose pajamas. He looked comfortable at least. Lying on his side, wrapped in a thick, red blanket, with only his head and his toes poking out.

He’d be lost without that blanket, Sokka thought. The red was the only color in the room.

Sokka hesitated for only a moment before kicking off his own boots and settling himself down on the bed, his empty arms reaching, wrapping around the boy in the red blanket. His leg too, so desperate for touch. And maybe Zuko needed it, because he nuzzled forward, pushing his nose into Sokka’s cheek, his hands into Sokka’s chest. Even his feet shifted until the soul of his left foot was somehow pressed into Sokka’s right ankle.

They'd never gotten to touch like this, not really, during the strange flirtation they’d had since returning from Boiling Rock. Everything was stolen glances, lingering conversations, arms pressed together even though they didn’t have to be. A lingering hug. Everything fleeting. Everything discreet. Like it was half real and half a dream.

One stolen kiss. Arms shaking. Lips frantic. In the misting rain.

Now Sokka was living a nightmare. Zuko smelt like sweat and leather. His arms still shook from the memory of holding Zuko while Appa flew, Zuko’s body cold and trembling. The longest Sokka’d ever been able to hold him, and it was because he was dying.

But he wasn’t dead.Zuko was warmer than he’d felt in days.

“You’re going to be alright,” Sokka said, even though he didn’t believe it. But maybe Fat had it right. Maybe it was best to pretend Zuko was strong, even if it was a fiction. Maybe it’d be true if they lied. If Zuko believed them.

Sokka took a deep breath as it let his eyes close, holding Zuko as closely as he could.

[i-hug-exploder-shanks]

Hiii!!! :3

Can I request a ficlet for O14? I really like the stories you write for them, and I have a prompt I want to see you make!!!

Anything at all just make something where Osiris is needlessly embarrassed by Saint!!! It'll be so cute!!

Oh no. Saint absolutely adores flustering Osiris so there are so many options! A cheeky surprise kiss somewhere semi-public, a cheesy pet name used in front of Ikora/the vanguard, Saint just being his golden retriever level enthusiastic self and complimenting his partner in a situation where it draws extra attention to Osiris... Hmmm. What to choose?

Osiris crossed his arms as he leaned against a wall near the edge of the arena where Saint was tossing around another titan he recognized as the young Daffyd. Watching Saint use his shield to catch the other Titan's Fist of Havoc and shut him down before bashing him in the face with the same shield did bring a small smirk to his lips. Daffyd was a good person and a talented guardian so Osiris wasn't surprised Saint had taken him under his wing, but he had a feeling he knew the real reason for the training.

"He lasted a half second longer this time but I still don't think he'd best Lord Shaxx in a 1v1." He said stepping out and Saint smiled at him while Daffyd's ghost healed his bloodied face.

"Osiris, my love! I am so glad you came! Young Daffyd here wants advice on how to woo his warlock love and I figured a practical demonstration was in order." Saint said and before Osiris could ask what that meant he was being scooped off his feet and up into Saint's arms as if he weighed nothing.

"You see, Warlocks are often on the smaller size. They like to be scooped and held, but you must be careful not to squish them too much. Hold them gentle like bord." Saint announced to the delighted younger titan whole Osiris' face burned and he started to demand to be put down.

Saint ignored him.

"If your warlock is fiesty like mine then they will not stay settled for long, you will have to move quickly to transport them to the date you have set up. If they try to float away, usually you can keep them in place better like this..." Saint shifted his now spitting and threatening partner over his shoulder with a hand firmly on his ass, void suppressing any attempts Osiris made to try to set him on fire.

A quick jog had Osiris being seated at a picnic table that had been set up with a rather romantic looking display nearby where he glared at Saint with bright golden light in his eyes promising violence the moment the titan was even a inch off his guard.

Daffyd was openly snickering at this point, clearly loving the show. "Scoop, hold gentle, transport quickly... I understand. How do you keep them from setting you on fire or striking you with a million volts of electricity after you get them to the date?" He asked grinning and brushing some of his messy hair from his face.

"Ah, you must distract them! Warlocks cannot resist a puzzle like cats cannot resist a ball of yarn. Or you can just do something like this..." Saint directed and as Osiris opened his mouth to ask just how many crayons he had eaten that morning Saint knelt down in front of him on one knee and took Osiris' hand in both of his, violet eyes peering up at him with such intensity it stole any words right out of his mouth and left his throat feeling dry.

"Where you have flown, I have chased you and where I was lost you have found me. We have danced around each other for eternities yet every moment I see you the happiness and love I feel is like the first moment I realized my feelings all over again. Not even the most devoted of your cultists could ever compare to the adoration I have for you. Osiris, Phoenix of the Dark Ages and light of my life, will you marry me?" Saint asked while Osiris' face turned more and more red and the perception of anything outside the two of them vanished.

"Saint... Did you plan this?" Osiris choked out once he remembered how to use words again but Saint wasn't put off by the deflection.

"I did. Daffyd helped. As did Ikora and the Young Wolf and your new apprentice Lenore. They are waiting to either congratulate us or comfort us depending on your answer." Saint said waiting patiently as ever and Osiris' finally gave in.

"I suppose I will do you the honor of allowing you to call yourself my husband. You did go to all this effort." He said and Saint beamed at him and gently took a strip of violet fabric from his armor and tied it around Osiris' wrist over his sunbracers in a way that felt more intimate than any ring would have.

"Thank you. For indulging me in this and for giving me a chance all those years ago." Saint told him and finally stood to gently bonk their foreheads together and then kiss him.

The kiss started getting a little heated until a throat being cleared drew Osiris back to the moment and he hid his face in Saint's shoulder in embarrassment that he had forgotten Daffyd was still standing right there.

"I'm going to go share the good news with the others! Maybe go home before trying to undress each other, but yeah... Congratulations!" He said a little awkwardly before bolting, arc energy sparking from his heels as he ran away making Osiris laugh a little.

"We aren't that bad are we?" Osiris asked but Saint scooped him up again.

"Not yet but I think I will be happy to accept his suggestion this time. We should celebrate but we can take the wine and food home with us if you want." He offered and Osiris grinned.

"I think that's wise because you're still in trouble for grabbing my ass like that." He said the flames in his eyes returning but this time with a different sort of fire.

[infiniteeight8]

(on anon because this song ref is going to date me horribly, but) the more I read your IronStrange ficlets, the more I'm reminded of the 2000s song "Crazy for this Girl" by Evan and Jaron. I'm not sure if this is meant to be a "look at these lyrics and see if they inspire you" prompt or just a compliment overall of how consistent your characterizations are, but thank you for so many amazing glimpses into their many (many, many, many) relationship moments.

Thanks so much! I have a lot of fun writing these two, and I’m glad my take on them rings true. 😀

Those lyrics really do scream IronStrange, don’t they? And really, I could see it going either way. Maybe it’s a bit more Stephen coded, what with the 14 million futures and him falling for Tony first, but my muse is in the contrary place today (still?), so here’s a bit with Tony as the ‘narrator’. Er, inspired by the song, but it seems I did wander off on a bit of a tangent, so not too closely. lol. 

-

Tony sits on one of the desks in the library and watches, smiling, as Stephen searches through the volumes for the book he needs. “The analogy that compares ley lines and magical concentrations to rivers and lakes is even more apt that I realized,” he says as he flips through a book. “It turns out that they change position over the years. Usually very slowly, but as with water, it’s also possible for abrupt events—the magical equivalent of floods or earthquakes—to carve new channels. Which made me wonder,” he puts the book back on the shelf and goes looking for another one, “could they be moved artificially? After all, we can redirect watercourses.”

“More or less,” Tony puts in, as much to see Stephen’s reaction as because it’s true. “Some rivers are more amenable to redirection than others.” 

Stephen lights up. “An excellent point. I suspect ley lines are similar in that way, too.” His expression goes abruptly thoughtful. “I wonder if the similarities indicate a connection between the water and magic… Where is that map?”

Is this what he’s like when he’s on a research binge, Tony wonders. Almost glowing with energy, passion radiating off every inch of him? It can’t be—his research binges used to drive Pepper and Rhodey nuts. Stephen is just amazing. It almost makes Tony want to learn magic, just so he can dive in there with him.

Stephen makes a triumphant noise and brings the book out to the table next to Tony. There’s already a map spread out there, but now Stephen carefully unfolds a second. He grunts, dissatisfied, when the parchment of the second blocks out the first.

“I could do a holographic overlay, if you want,” Tony suggests.

“Please,” Stephen says, beaming at him.

Tony’s heart leaps. God, but he’s crazy about this man. A quick scan with his glasses and the projector in Tony’s watch flares to life, displaying both maps in an overlay.

“Perfect,” Stephen says absently, already absorbed in studying the correlations between the maps. He doesn’t ask why Tony’s hanging around, playing sounding board and logistical support. At some point, Tony thinks, he’s going to have to come up with an answer other than I was thinking about you, and then I had to see you. 

Stephen turns to go find another map.

But not yet.

[lighthouseshepard]

did this jarthur & faroe bit some time ago for my dearest @ferelden-loser and 100% forgot to put it here after i shared it with them. <3 a little ficlet to help us both with chores we weren't doing cjrjjcjrhfjf (also i just enjoy like. aus where everyone is alive and well ok)

"Arthur, can you move please?" 

Without turning his head, Arthur slowly repositions his bare feet off the carpeted floor. Legs clad in the pajama pants he'd been wearing all morning come to rest on top of the coffee table, crossing idly right next to the duster John had placed there minutes prior - a slight he ignores to the best of his ability, lamenting the glass he'd just wiped down.

"I meant," he says through clenched teeth, his voice heard as a mere vibration echoing back to him through the earmuffs he wore. "Can you get up so I can vacuum beside the couch?"

He says something John can't quite make out above the racket of the vacuum cleaner, but he knows if he switches it off, he certainly won't turn it back on again. Squinting, he catches the tail end of I've given you plenty of room formed across his dear, irritably vexing husband's smiling mouth, and he grumbles a long, suffering sigh.

"Fine," he says, angling the blasted contraption between the couch and the table. "I hope I run you over."

"I've already moved once!" Arthur shouts casually over the noise. "It's my day off, can't I relax in peace?"

"What?" John yells right back. "I can't hear you!"

"Possibly because you're wearing ear muffs! Where did you even get those from, anyways?"

"What?"

"Jesus Christ, John-"

Reaching over, Arthur feels about for the switch to the vacuum and flicks it off. The dull roar dissolves into blissful silence, and John exhales his relief.

"Fucking hate this thing," John mutters, gratefully slipping off the earmuffs. "Why did they have to make them so loud?"

"It's honestly not that bad, John," Arthur reassures him as he settles back onto the couch. "Although, I suppose to new ears like yours, it must sound like Niagra Falls."

"It's worse," John complains, glaring down. "We've heard eldritch creatures scream in unimaginable amounts of pain, and yet somehow this doesn't compare."

"I think you're being a little dramatic, darling," Arthur drawls. All the same, he frowns, gazing up from the papers in his hand to stare at a spot just over John's shoulder.

"I could do that for you, you know," he offers. "You and Faroe could take a walk to the park, perhaps? It's a lovely day out for it."

"What happened to I can't vacuum because I can't see what needs to be picked up?" John mutters. "You never volunteer."

"Well, now I feel bad," he admits. "Here, come take a break. You can go over this melody with me."

Arthur pats the spot beside him. The lure of soft fabric against his skin over another round of fighting with some man made horror he still didn't totally understand the functions of seemed much more aptly tantalizing. Thankful for the invitation for a distraction, he takes a seat. Cushions sink back under his weight, all six foot five of his frame folding neatly up beside Arthur. 

"What are you working on?" he asks, relenting to his curiosity in spite of the frustration overloading his senses. Tasks which subjected him to particular types of noise always left him feeling exasperatingly fragile, as though someone had filled his body with shards of glass that shifted each time he moved incorrectly. Even the gleam of overhead lights hurt his vision after a while. They'd taken to one or two windows open during the day and candlelight in the evenings, a welcomed respite. Faroe enjoyed imagining they were camping indoors by the glow of the tiny flames.

"A new piece," Arthur tells him, snuggling up closer. He rests his head against John's arm, holding out the slip of paper for his inspection. 

John eyes it warily. "You realize that makes absolutely no sense to me."

A delighted chuckle answers him. "I know, but I also know you find it interesting regardless. Here, run your hand along the top row."

Studying the inscrutable collection of raised dots against the wrinkled page, John does as requested. To fresh fingertips alive with new nerve endings, each note came across as an individual grain of sand.

"C sharp," Arthur clarifies. "Sounds like this."

He hums the note, mild and clear. Involuntarily John is drawn to hum it back, his tone at a much lower register but no less soft because of it.

"Hey, look at that," Arthur laughs. "We'll make a musician of you yet."

"I don't see why you have to notate new songs," John wonders. "Can't you just memorize them anyway?"

"Well, yes. Eventually. This makes it a little easier in the beginning."

"Is this for the new contract you managed to get?" John takes the paper from him fully now, lost in its puzzle. "Can you... can you play it for us later?"

"Of course, John. You and Faroe always get the initial performance."

"Daddy, John, look!"

From their left they hear the back door clattering open. In she bursts, a bright blue flurry of energetic determination and reddish blonde curls bouncing loose from their tie as she sprints. She skitters to a halt in front of John, one tiny set of fingers already tugging impatiently at his own much larger hand before he has time to think.

"Faroe?" Arthur asks, tilting his head towards her. "What's wrong? You know I can't-"

He trails off unhappily. It lasts for only a split second, and then he's covering it up behind an intrigued smile.

"What is it?"

"I found something," she says gleefully. "John, open your hand."

"Is it alive?" John asks drily, instinctively drawing his hand back. On too many occasions he had been fooled into taking a vast collection of creatures discovered in the backyard into his palm. The slimy ones didn't bother him so much. It was the ones which skittered, all legs and eyes and a resolve to disappear just out of sight.

"No," Faroe mumbles. "Please, just look. It's really neat."

"Alright, fine. Let me see."

Carefully she unfolds her hands, placing whatever lay inside them into John's outstretched palm. He studies it with one raised eyebrow.

"What is it?" Arthur asks, interest getting the better of him as he leans up and over. 

"A grasshopper."

"An orange grasshopper," Faroe clarifies. "I've never seen one like this before! I gave it to John because I know he can describe it to you better than I."

She grins, pleased at the line of her own logic. Arthur sighs, though it's obvious he's trying to force back a smile twitching along the corners of her mouth.

"Faroe, dear," he says patiently, "can you take it back outside, please?"

"But it's orange," she presses. "Did you know they came in orange?"

"Yes, I do. But grasshoppers don't enjoy being inside for too long. He's probably missing his friends."

"Oh." She mulls this over for a moment, shrugging. "Okay! John, can I have him back please?"

"All yours," he says wryly. She takes the unmoving grasshopper back into her own enclosed hands. 

"Thanks!"

Briefly it seems as though she were about to twist and run back out into the warm summer afternoon - but instead she bounces on her heels, and then climbs up onto the couch cushions next to John, pressing a quick peck to his cheek. He barely has time to reach up and touch the spot before she’s indelicately stepping over him to do the same to her father, cautious not to disturb her precious cargo the entire way. 

"Bye!" she shouts over her shoulder as she zips out of view. They hear the door clatter shut, leaving them in an awed silence dotted sporadically by the chirping of birdsong outside.

John glances over, glad Arthur couldn't see his wince at the outlines of dirt Faroe had tracked in all over the freshly vacuumed carpet. Apparently, by her decision, his break was over.

Exhaling more affectionate patience for one single person that he'd ever had in his eons long life, save for Arthur himself, he gets to his feet. Arthur looks in his direction as he rises, lamenting the sturdy press of his body against his. 

"She got dirt everywhere, didn't she?"

"No.

"John."

"She didn't," John lies evenly. "I'm just going to get back to it, alright? Christ, can't I clean in peace?"

"Fine, fine," Arthur says airily, going back to his sheet music. "Don't take too long. I already miss you."

Neither tell the other what they know. Arthur doesn't elaborate on the fact he's distinctly aware of John's lie, but too charmed by his devotion to protecting the one he'd come to care about just as much as him; and John says nothing of the expression on Arthur's face while he stares sightlessly after the whirlwind of his daughter, and the trust Arthur must surely have in him to allow him willingly into their lives. 

Instead, he cleans. This time he leaves the earmuffs off, if only to catch snippets of Arthur's song hummed loudly enough for him to hear, and Faroe’s laughter drifting in from outside.

[mounamelanoyi]

Malar (a VanMozhi ficlet)

A/N: Inspired by my love for Jayam Ravi and those eyes of his OOF (feel free to imagine a younger JR in this fic as well haha). Would love to hear your thoughts in the replies!! 

---

There was no way around it. 

Ever since they had all come back from Nagapattinam…her Ilavarasan had been different. 

The days where he’d barely acknowledged her presence - where she’d melted into the walls when he walked by and he didn’t even notice that she was there in the first place - were long gone. Now, she could hardly remember the last time they were in the same room together and she didn’t feel him…watching her. 

In the mandhiram, for example - as she stood next to him, desperately trying to ignore the heat of his body so close to hers. Vanathi could feel his eyes on her, watching her as she fervently tried to keep her attention on the prayers. 

And even today - in the garden, as she and Kundavai and the other maidens lay amongst the flowers, plucking and weaving garlands of jasmine and chrysanthemums, she could feel the warmth of his gaze on her as he and Vanthiyar meandered by. When she made the mistake of looking up at him, catching his eyes with her own…she could barely hold his glance for more than a second before dropping her eyes - but not before she saw his lips curve into a sly little smile. 

It was a struggle, but Vanathi kept her mouth shut until the other maidens had left to their duties.

“Akka?”

“Hmm?” 

“Ponniyin Selvan…” At the mention of her brother, Kundavai swung her head around sharply, eyes searching Vanathi’s face with interest.

“Yes? What about him?”

“W-why does he look at me so…why does he look at me like that?”

By the time Vanathi had finished stammering out her question, Kundavai had leaned back onto her arms, watching Vanathi with a knowing smirk curling her lips. 

“That’s my brother’s way of showing us that we need to get the two of you married off immediately - before…” Kundavai trailed off. 

“Before what, Akka?”

For the first time - ever, Vanathi secretly thought to herself - she looked on as her Akka flushed, hints of red and heat suffusing her cheeks, and murmured, almost under her breath, “certain things happen, kanne...I don’t know all of it either, but…” Kundavai stopped short, shaking her head. “That’s neither here nor there,” she declared, prim and firm yet again. And this time, she looked Vanathi straight on in the face, eyes warm with affection and amusement. “You and my brother shall find out - together.”

Vanathi would never admit it aloud, but deep within her…she knew what Kundavai meant. Her Arasan loved her. She was finally sure of that, had been sure of it since he became her Yaanai Paagan once again in Nagapattinam. But now that he was sure in her affection and she in his…he wanted more. He wanted to possess her, have her in the most primal way a man could a woman. He wanted her. 

And Vanathi was slowly starting to awaken to the fact that…she might just want him back in that way too. Maybe that would explain the little thrill that ran through her whenever she saw those golden muscles of his, rippling as he hefted those heavy swords and axes like they weighed nothing. Why she wanted to tangle her fingers in that thick, curling hair of his; why that self-assured smirk of his sometimes sent arrows of fire hissing through her veins.

Now, it was Vanathi’s turn to shake herself back to reality, sheepishly realizing that she’d faded off into a daydream in front of her Akka herself. But Kundavai just laughed at her, reaching out to fondly pinch her cheek. 

“He’ll be yours, kanne - soon.”

—

It was a gorgeous twilight, and a gorgeous evening ceremony on the water, but Arulmozhi was slowly - and very surely - reaching the end of his rope. 

He liked to think that many of the things said about him were true - he worked hard, day in, day out to be the level-headed, calm, righteous man he needed to be for his people.

But everyone seemed to forget one crucial little fact.

The same fiery blood that ran through impetuous Sundara Chozhar’s veins, that ran through hot-headed Aditha Karikalan - ran through Arulmozhi Varman too. 

Arulmozhi only let that side of him out on rare occasions - on the battlefield, or when there was an injustice that couldn’t be corrected in any way other than force. But now, as he watched Vanathi - his Vanathi - twirling in front of him - her slender curves, the burnished bronze of her skin, set off by the milky white of the jasmine in her hair, all gleaming in the golden light…Arulmozhi burned.

As she made her way closer and closer to him, the cloying scents of jasmine, sandalwood, musk all clouded his mind to the point where he could think of one thing and one thing only - what it would be like to clasp her in his arms… to set his mouth to that velvet skin and make those plush lips of hers fall open - just for him.

So this time, when she trembled, swaying in front of him, Arulmozhi caught her up in his arms, holding his uyirin uyire against him - and he did.

—

For as long as she lived, Vanathi knew that she would never forget the feeling of the first press of her lord’s lips to her skin. 

Nor the wet heat of his mouth, soothing the scratchy sting of his beard as he traced tendrils of fire down the slope of her neck.

Nor the cold metal of his rings dragging over the sensitive curve of her waist as he pressed her body to arch against the warm weight of his bulky frame…

Vanathi felt herself descending into madness at his hands. 

“Natha,” she called out softly, the word slipping off her tongue so naturally - and Vanathi couldn’t even regret it seeing how her Arasan’s eyes flicked up, darkening in response. “This- this is dangerous.”

“Why is it dangerous,” he rasped out, pressing her only more firmly into him, “for me to lay siege to what’s mine?”

And to that, Vanathi had no answer - for she was his. Her eyes slid shut as she relaxed into him, and she felt her lord’s lips curve into an answering smile against her skin.

Her akka was right - they really did need to get married.

[ghostofskywalker]

Hello! Thank you so much for hosting the whole clone fic gift exchange event! That was so much fun ❤️

Could I request something for your spring ficlets where a Jedi general and her clone commander just have a strictly professional relationship. But then something happens and the Jedi and commander get trapped somewhere (maybe one of them is injured) and they have to find a way back and through that, they get to know one another as friends (or maybe a crush develops? Idk). But either way, they come out and their relationship has definitely changed.

You choose the clone, I'm not picky 😁

If this seems like a too complicated ask for this then don't worry about it! (Totally fine if you can't do it right now!)

Thanks for all the amazing work you've done here ❤️

hi! i'm so glad you enjoyed the exchange, i had so much fun too!! i went with rex for this fic, and i hope you like it!!

words: 1,187

summary: when a cave-in traps you and rex on a mission, you accidentally make your feelings for the captain known.

clone troopers masterlist

Seismic Shift

You should have known something would go wrong when you felt the gound shift under your feet, right as a low rumbling noise started making its way through the air and the rocks that surrounded you started to shake. This was not a very good time to be underground, and you still hadn’t completed your mission objective yet. 

“Captain,” you called. “I think we may need to turn around and head back up to the surface. If we stay any longer we’ll get trapped down here.” 

You could see Rex nod from where he was walking deeper into the cave system, and the two of you turned around. On a temporary mission with a the 501st since Anakin had been called back to Coruscant, you wondered what Captain Rex thought of you. 

The 501st was your favorite battalion that you’ve ever worked with, and you’re positive that it was because they’re not afraid to get their hands metaphorically dirty and give wild and crazy plans a shot to get out of a tough situation, and you had never seen much value in playing it safe anyway. But where that quality meant you got along excellently with Fives, Jesse, and Hardcase, the captain was always a little more wary of you. 

You understood his hesitance of course. You were a Jedi that he only worked with once in a while, and even though this would mark the fourth time you had served as the acting General while Anakin had other engagements, you could only know someone so well. You also thought he was ridiculously attractive, and although you wished that you had said something to him, your Jedi training had done little to prepare you for a crush, and so you kept your emotions a secret. 

You could see the light at the end of the cave system, and Rex had just commed the rest of the company that was back at the transport when the walls began to shake, and you knew what was happening. There was no way you would be able to make to freedom before the ceiling of the cave came tumbling down, and you could see Rex trying to make a run for it. “No!” you shouted, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the side, where a particularly sturdy and large rock had yet to move, and the two of you slammed to the ground as a cascade of stone fell around you. Maybe it would have been a better idea to simply try and keep the cave intact by using the Force, but you were so worried that Rex was going to be injured that the thought completely slipped your mind. 

Your head hit the rocks behind you, and you floated in and out of consciousness. You could hear a frantic voice above you, and you thought you made out your name. “Whaaaa?” you mumbled, eyes fluttering open and closed. 

It had to be Rex, there was no one else around you. You heard snippets of what sounded like your name, and you realized that he was probably attempting to get into contact with the rest of the men outside. 

“Injured-” 

“Won’t hold on for long-”

“I’ll try but-” 

Soon the darkness overcame you, and you closed your eyes for a little bit longer than a few moments. 

***

The next time you came to, your head hurt really badly, but at least you weren’t completely out of sorts. Rex was sitting next to you with his helmet on his lap and his eyes closed, and once he heard you cough, immediately turned to look at you. His arm looked like it had been bent slightly wrong, and you immediately started to worry about whether or not he was in pain. “What happened?” you asked, voice slightly croakier than usual. 

“I think you might have a concussion,” he responded. “You really shouldn’t fall asleep again.” 

“I’ll do my best,” you said, and you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your mouth. “So we’re stuck in here?” 

“I’ve alerted the others about the situation and where we are, they’re trying to figure out a way to move all the rocks without causing another cave-in,” he said. “Until then, we can’t really do anything, especially if you’re in this condition.” 

“What do you mean in this condition?” you asked, but your joking tone didn’t really come through, since you started to lose consciousness halfway through the final word. 

“No, you can’t fall asleep!” Rex’s eyes widened, but he had no idea what to do. He grabbed your hand from where it was resting on top of your leg and squeezed it softly. The gesture was completely unexpected, and it certainly was enough to pull your eyes back open. “Oh good,” Rex said, relief clear in his voice. “I thought I was going to have to kiss you to wake you up.” 

But as much as you were technically awake, you were also a little delirious, and that meant your regular filter wasn’t doing its job. “Can you still?” you asked, a soft giggle escaping your mouth at the thought of his lips on yours. 

“What?” He had surprised you before, and now it was your turn to return the favor. 

“Can you kiss me?” you mumbled. “I think I’m gonna die in here, and you’re so pretty, and the Jedi Code is really kriffing annoying sometimes-”

You expected Rex to be wearing a look of horror, either at the implication that you liked him or the possibility that you were so delirious that you didn’t know what you were saying, but he didn’t seem to mind your (concussed) rambling. 

However, it seemed that you were having terrible luck today, because the moment he opened his mouth to respond, his comm crackled to life, interrupting whatever moment was brewing between the two of you. “Captain!” Jesse’s voice came through the device. “Stay where you are, we’re almost through!” 

The next few minutes went by in a complete blur. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan had been barely a system away from you, and soon you were watching as the rocks that kept you and Rex trapped were being moved away with the power of the Force. If you hadn’t hit your head, you might have been able to harness that much power, but right now it was struggle to just stay awake. 

The next time you really knew what was happening, you were laying on a cot in the medbay of the Resolute, and Captain Rex was laying in the one beside you. He wasn’t awake yet, but you could see that his arm had been treated and was currently in a sling. 

You weren’t going to wake him up, you decided, because he deserved to recover as quickly as he possibly could. But you also made up your mind about something, and that was the fact that you wanted to find out what he would have said to you had you not been interrupted by the 501st. 

Selfishly, you hoped it was that he felt the same way about you that you did about him. 

- the end -

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Cursed Cards - Part I

So, on this blessed day (birthday of my beloved husband and wedding of an author I SO admire), I offer you a little gift.

Here's a commission by @sauroff for my very favourite boys!!! At the end of the small ficlet I've written for it, you'll find the extra Fingon-reaction-panel and the mini-comic I got (I am still screaming) on which I've based the last part of the story!!!

Cursed cards

Words: 1,21 k

Warnings: Russingon (which is a half-cousin-incest ship)

Context: This might be read as a snippet out of my many Modern!AU stories. Either way, Maedhros and Fingon did not know each other well when they were younger because of their fathers' strife.

“Ai Russo,” Fingon called from the door. “You won’t believe what just arrived.”

As he re-entered the room, he was brandishing a small rectangular piece of cardboard triumphantly; from his perch on the sofa, all Maedhros could make out was a cramped block of handwritten text followed by an eerily familiar, sprawling collection of signatures though.

“What do you have there?” he asked cautiously, craning his long, slender neck to get a better look at what he now clearly identified as a postcard of sorts. 

“Your mother has sent me a Christmas card!” Fingon whooped and threw himself on the sofa, the newly-obtained treasure protectively clasped against his broad chest. “And it is the best card anyone has ever received.”

At first, Maedhros was so elated to see his beloved brimming and gleaming with happiness at receiving a missive from Nerdanel that he almost forgot how mischievous his mother could be.

After a few seconds of Fingon cradling his precious card without making any move to share its excellence with him though, Maedhros was overcome by doubt and a terrible suspicion.

“What kind of card is it, darling?” he asked calmly, battling the frown that wanted to crease his smooth, pale brow.

“It’s a family picture,” Fingon said, his voice strained with the effort to suppress a merry guffaw. His eyes were glinting with boundless glee as if he was pondering an excellent joke his lover was not yet privy to.

Instantly, the smile on Maedhros’ face froze into a grimace of pure dread. She wouldn’t do that; his mother knew how much Fingon meant to him. She would never have risked exposing her oldest son to ridicule by digging out the worst holiday picture any family had ever taken.

“Show me!” he demanded shakily and gave a small cry when his worst fears came true. “Oh, no!”

As he tried to snatch the card away, Fingon threw himself around, shielding it with his very body and all but baring his teeth in a territorial frenzy. “No,” he grumbled, “you shall not have it.”

Just by the look on Maedhros’ face, he could tell that he’d destroy the missive if he could.

“Oh, how could she?” Maedhros exclaimed and curled up on himself. “We thought, we really believed, that we had destroyed every last copy of that accursed picture!”

“Why?” Fingon asked cautiously, still keeping his prized possession out of the reach of those terribly nimble and strong hands he so loved to feel on his skin. “It’s an adorable photograph…and you look glorious in it!”

“I…what?” Maedhros combed his fingers through his hair nervously; he was mortified at the mere thought of his dishevelled hair and the awful sweaters his parents had made them wear, so he didn’t so much as glance in the direction of the picture Fingon stared at as if it held every truth of the universe. 

“The twins were in the process of strangling me and scalping Káno,” he informed reproachfully. “Moreover, we had to take Moryo to the hospital. It was an awful night!”

Immediately, Fingon’s huge eyes turned compassionate, and Maedhros’ discontent was mellowed by the earnest empathy he read in them. “How come?”

“Moryo tried to wrench himself free and Tyelko toppled backwards over Curvo…” Maedhros rubbed his forehead with a long-fingered hand; in hindsight, he could appreciate how ludicrous this sounded and cringed. “Either way, Moryo then refused to let us see his hand, Tyelko had hit his head against the edge of a table, Curvo was no longer cackling but wailing. Even the twins stilled in their mayhem upon witnessing the chain reaction of disaster.”

When Fingon merely blinked, Maedhros sighed deeply. “They all still have the scars and, apparently, my parents do not think that reason enough to annihilate the incriminating evidence!”

Fingon had started caressing the picture with a tender fingertip, tracing those noble, gorgeous features he saw every time he closed his eyes; he was, of course, sorry that Fëanor’s children had paid this work of art with blood and tears, but he could not bring himself to truly regret their sacrifice.

“It’s fascinating,” he whispered reverentially, “to see that you’ve all made good on the promises of your childhood days.”

“I guess,” Maedhros agreed grumpily, “I am still awkward, Moryo is still ill-tempered, Tyelko is a savage still, and Curvo never stopped being a sneering pest.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of the prodigious beauty, valour, and strength of your line, but suit yourself,” Fingon laughed and nudged his head against the other’s sharp, bony shoulder. “I wish we had known each other back then!”

“I am glad we didn’t.” Maedhros grimaced in deepfelt embarrassment; he was convinced that his unusual complexion had not done him any favours back in the day. 

Nevertheless, his face softened as he finally looked upon the round, chubby faces of the brothers he thought of constantly – with equal measures of love and exasperation – and found that the memories of their younger days made him smile wistfully.

“I love it,” Fingon swore perfervidly, “and I love you!”

What else could Maedhros do but sling his arm around Fingon and press a kiss against that temple behind which his beloved would keep the memory of that darned picture forevermore, even if he managed to wrench the card from him and throw it into the fire?

“Don’t let Maglor see it though,” he mumbled insistently, “or Moryo. They hate it with a passion!”

All too soon, Maedhros understood that he might as well have saved his breath though as Fingon proceeded to carry the card on his person all the time.

More than once, Maedhros was fooled into believing that his lover had found some rare new treasure upon finding him gaping at something – evidently immensely precious by the look on his face – clasped in his hands, only to discover that it was the vexatious Christmas picture all over again.

Unfortunately, all his earnest endeavours to take it from Fingon ended in bitter defeats though.

“No way,” Fingon grinned as they companionably stood in Maglor’s living room, “I’m sending this to Ingoldo!”

With his impeccable sense of comedic – or tragic, depending on whom you asked – timing, Maglor suddenly appeared at their side to see Fingon gauchely trying to snap a picture of a postcard while swatting away Maedhros’ hand. 

“Nelyo,” Maglor squawked in a melodramatic voice, “please tell me it’s not that photo again!”

He recognised the colour scheme and the chaotic composition even without getting a good look at the object Fingon so ferociously defended from Maedhros’ half-hearted attempts at theft.

“The very same,” Maedhros huffed, “and – if we cannot dissuade him – Finno will make sure everyone with eyes to see will be made aware of our shame!”

Maglor pondered this for a second and then shrugged. “I look somewhat cute in it,” he declared in a regal act of grace, “and it’s – oh, so much – worse for the others, so…I shall condone the propagation of the monstrosity.”

Astounded, Maedhros merely blinked at this utterance; he had just lost a valuable ally.

“Also,” Maglor continued, his eyes glinting sharply, “I shall have my revenge. Charming a middle-aged lady into handing over pictures of her beloved children should be child’s play!”

Here are the promised extra artworks:

I hope you've all liked this, please give @sauroff a big round of applause for being delightful, generous, and absolutely lovely to work with.

As always, lots of love from my little person!

A hooray to love, to friendship, and to happiness. May December be good to you all!!!

-> Part 2

[eilinelsghost]

Writing Patterns: Closing Lines

Tagged by @thelordofgifs to share the final lines of my ten most recent fics. Thanks for the tag, this sounds fun! I've done the first line one before, but have never really looked at the closing ones...let's see what happens

Then he smiled, a brief flash of mirth, turned again, and was gone. (These Echoes We Have Left: 13.7k, T, Finrod/Bëor)

And then, wordlessly, he took her in his arms, and he shivered as she pressed her lips to his, as she reached up to thread her fingers through his hair and draw him down beside her upon Ennor’s autumn amid the grass. As she whispered acquiescence and wove their souls together beneath the sun’s last light. (And Joined Them Thread by Thread: 500, G, Amarië/OC)

"It was never meant to be sailed in this direction,” he added with a glance aft, “but it seems his luck has held. I know of no others.” (Forgotten Stones: 2k, G, a funhouse collection of all ghosti's favorite characters somehow ending up in the same place during the 3rd Age)

Crumbs, after all, were better than starvation. (No Gentler Pain: 13k, T, Finrod/Bëor)

"Thou shalt choose for us, Andreth," he said with exaggerated formality, "shall we be better served by flax or by wheat in these fields?" (Seedlings I: Winter/Spring 2024: 1k, G, collection of ficlets featuring lots of folks)

And then, as though this was the final herald they awaited, the twelve lifted their burdens from the dim grass and without a word passed soundless into the trees. (Darkly the Sundering Flood: 15k, T, Finrod & Beren)

“Take my hand, dear one. I am here.” (An Anchor Incarnate: 1.4k, G, Gwindor & Gelmir)

"I was…in Beleriand I wedded your son.” (In Memory Beside You: 1.3k, T, Finarfin & Bëor)

“Forgive me,” the king whispered, then turned and followed the water back the way they had come. (In These Holy Waters: 11.6k, T, Finrod/Bëor)

“Elenya,” he breathed as his fingers passed through the silken gold, stroking it back from his face, and then Nóm’s arms were about his waist, the king’s face buried against his chest, and Balan held him as the last candle burned out and they remained alone in the hearthlight. “I will not.” (And Still the Light Returns: 10.4k, T, Finrod/Bëor, Bëor & Belen)

Hmm not sure if there's a pattern or not. 6/10 are dialogue, but that's just barely a majority? Let me know if you see any patterns here I'm missing! I always love seeing what people pick out in what I've written that completely slips by me.

Tagging in @welcomingdisaster, @sallysavestheday, @thescrapwitch, @swanmaids, and @searchingforserendipity25, and @that-angry-noldo if you haven't done these yet!

[vladdyissues]

I'm not asking for details, spoilers, or anything of the sort, but do you already know how Familiar is going to end? In your head, have you established or pictured the finale?

I know things can change before you even get there. I myself often have no clue how things will end when I start up a fic. (Actually, idk what's more difficult—how to start or how to finish? 😆) But I've been curious about this... particularly with your fic. There's so many wonderful and interesting things that go on as the story unravels; I can't imagine a conclusion to it all.

I don't want it to end! 😭 All good things...

I know things can change before you even get there. I myself often have no clue how things will end when I start up a fic.

Same, Puff. I only intended Familiar to be three chapters at first. Then five. Then ten... oops. I never meant for/expected it to turn into this big thing, but here we are 🥴

But to answer your question: yes, I do have an ending firmly in mind. The climax is still a bit nebulous, but I expect it'll start to solidify once I get closer to it. I've got the whole rest of the story mapped out; timeline, notes, some rough scenes, lots of emoji bullet lists. I'm even saving a bunch of scraps that are basically "deleted/alternate scenes" because I can't bear to throw old ideas away lol.

I don't want it to end!

I feel that. For me, finishing is always the biggest challenge. When I write purely for the vibes instead of plot, or to serve as some kind of emotional outlet, it can lead to a lot of unfinished WIPs—or at least "unfinished" in the sense that they accomplished their purpose for me but leave my readers hanging on the edge of a figurative cliff. (I'm sure that says something about me psychologically haha.) Vibefic is best saved for oneshots and ficlets, at least in my case. But Familiar has turned out to be the most ambitious and plot-intense story I've yet written, and I'm determined to see all the mysteries revealed and puzzles solved!

I must confess though, I'm pacing myself since I'm enjoying writing this story so much 🥹 I'm sure some of you want to kill me for taking this slow burn to the extreme, but I promise/hope it'll be worth it.

[les-pompiers118]

Illumination (a 9-1-1 ficlet)

A little Buck & Hen coda piece for episode 7x04. About 1.2K words, not rated. Contains major spoilers for "Buck, Bothered and Bewildered."

Also posted to AO3 here.

“Hey, what’s going on with you today?”

Hen’s voice startles Buck off the frame of the open roll-up door at the back of the equipment bay, where he was—what? Gathering his thoughts? More like letting them run amok, because there seems to be no getting them under control at the moment. Even the mindless task of polishing the engine had proved too much, and Buck just… needed a minute.

It’s been approximately eighteen hours since Tommy kissed him. Eighteen hours in which his whole damn perception of himself has been turned upside down and inside out. So there’s that. But there’s also been an embarrassing amount of losing himself in the memory of it, and imagining what it might be like to do it again. Maybe with Tommy’s broad chest pinning Buck against a wall… or those rough, competent hands on Buck’s skin somewhere… Or—

“Nothing,” Buck answers, a little too defensively, but of course Hen can tell he’s lying.

“You’ve been distracted all day, Buck.” She gives him an unimpressed look. “Are you and Eddie still not talking about how you tackled him during a friendly basketball game?”

“I didn’t tackle him! It was more like… a mid-air hip check.”

Hen huffs and shakes her head. “You can take the boy off the football team, but you can’t take football instincts out of the boy, I guess.”

“Hip checking is hockey, not football,” Buck corrects her. “And to answer your question, Eddie and I did talk about it and it’s fine. He knows I just, uh, let my emotions get away from me during the game. I apologized for it. We’re good.”

“Then what are you all in your head about? Last time you were like this, it was when you were secretly contemplating donating certain bodily fluids to a certain former roommate and his wife. They didn’t ask you to help with baby number two already, did they?”

“No! I’m just—”

Buck breaks off with a wince. God, he’s not sure if he’s ready to tell anyone yet. He’s definitely not ready to make some big, dramatic announcement when he’s still trying to wrap his head around this. Not that he’s waffling about what it meant—the head-to-toe thrill that went through him when Tommy’s mouth collided with his. Buck recognized that sensation right away, with all the certainty of someone who’d accidentally touched a live wire. He’s not a kid, for Christ’s sake.

Talking about it—out loud—though. That’s a different story.

On the other hand, this is Hen. Who better to unburden himself to than her? And then maybe he’ll be able to focus on what he’s supposed to be doing here, at work, and save his personal mess for after the shift ends.

“Okay,” he begins, pulling Hen gently by the arm out into the parking area. “Okay, but please don’t tell anyone. I mean, anyone. But especially not Chimney.”

“All right,” Hen says slowly. “What did you do?”

Buck takes a deep breath. “I kissed Tommy.”

“You what!?”

“Well, he kissed me, actually. He came over to clear the air, because he was afraid he was the cause of some bad blood between me and Eddie. You know, since they’ve been spending so much time together, and it was driving me… Uh, I’m not proud of that, either.” Buck runs his hand over his mouth and pushes on. “Then we were talking, and he said he’d teach me Muay Thai if I wanted, and then the next thing I knew, he was just… going for it.”

“Wow,” Hen says simply, and even though Buck can’t bring himself to look her in the face right now, he can tell she’s genuinely shocked. “Wow, I guess you really never can tell with some people. Not that Tommy and I were ever especially close, what with the way things were when I first arrived at the 118. Huh.”

Buck stops himself from telling her that this conversation is supposed to be about him, not Tommy. Honestly though, it hadn’t occurred to him until this moment to think about whether Tommy is out or not. That’s not cool, Buck chastises himself.

“Uh, yeah that’s probably another reason this should just stay between us for now. We didn’t really talk about whether it’s okay for me to tell people. About him.”

Hen raises her eyebrows. “But you did talk, didn’t you? He didn’t just run off or something?”

“We sort of talked? He asked me out on a date. Saturday night.”

“And you said…” Hen prompts.

“Yes,” Buck tells her, with a whooshing exhale and a grin. “I said yes.”

“Okay, then. Good. So what’s the problem?”

She’s looking at him with that mix of patience and exasperation that he knows too well. Like he’s being dense.

“The problem is that I’m thirty-two years old, Hen! It shouldn’t have been such a surprise to me that I—” Buck lowers his voice to a loud whisper. “That I’m into guys, too. Like, don’t most people just know? While they’re growing up?”

Hen reaches over to squeeze his arm. “Not necessarily. There are plenty of good reasons why some people don’t figure it out until they’re older. Sometimes much older than thirty-two, by the way. There aren’t any rules here, Buck. Everyone has their own path to get there. But… you are there, you think?”

“Oh, god. Yes.” Buck gives a small laugh, just lets it bubble out of him. It’s like opening a valve, releasing the pressure inside of him. “I’m one-hundred percent there. No doubt in my mind at all.”

“That’s wonderful. Even so, give yourself some time to process it, okay?”

“I will. But, uh, how long does processing take?” Buck asks helplessly. “I feel like I’m back in that hurricane. There are about fifty different emotions hitting me from all directions right now, and it’s kind of hard to function.”

“That’s just the nature of the beast, I’m afraid. It’s a scary thing, having that big revelation about yourself and figuring out what it means for your life.”

“I’m not scared. More like… in a daze. Every time I think about it, it knocks me back again. And then I think about tomorrow night and I start to get all jittery. Nervous. Cause I’ve never done this and I have no idea how to go about making a guy like me.”

“He already likes you, if he asked you out, right?” Hen says. “So focus on that. Anything else?”

Buck considers it, tries to loosen the tangle of feelings that’s filling up the whole of him right now and lay them out in an orderly way. Hen doesn’t rush him.

“It’s just a lot,” he says eventually, giving up on putting it into words, “and I kinda wish I could switch off my brain for a while.”

“I’m sure. Trust me, all those messy, upsetting emotions will settle down, and then you’re gonna feel really good about it.”

“Oh, I already do,” Buck reassures her. “I mean, I did last night even, right after it happened. And now, still. Just kind of… illuminated on the inside. That sounds weird, doesn’t it?”

Hen shakes her head, then puts her arms over his shoulders and jerks him into a tight hug. Buck returns it gratefully, glad to find an anchor in this crazy day, at last. When Hen speaks again, close to his ear, her voice is uncharacteristically wobbly.

“That’s the joy, Buck,” she says. “That’s the joy of it. And that’s what makes the struggle all worthwhile.”

[connor6sex]

Roses and Smoke week Ficlet 4

The world is over, Ash is used to being alone. He enjoys his companion, but he knows that all people are temporary. He fails to not get attached. (leads directly into #5) ao3

”Redd.“ Ash calls him to stop, not that it’s a wise choice with the hoard roaming behind them. But he can’t stand not having this conversation.

”Yeah, what’s up?“ Redd replies, trusting in Ash to stop moving. To turn his back to the monsters behind them to look him in the eyes.

”Um.“ Fuck. The only thing worse than not telling him is telling him. Ash likes what he has with Redd. And he doesn’t want to be alone in this wasteland again.

”Never mind, let’s keep moving.“ Shit. That’s not what he wanted to say, but it’s not safe out here, to tell him, to stay.

”Right. Uh, I think that hill over there could be a decent place to go.“ Redd tries, wanting some value from this interruption in running for their lives. Ash liked his life, and Redd’s life too.

Ash nods and keeps moving, listening to the repetitive clank of all the guns he’s found a way to carry. It’s a few hours with the desolate sun bearing down on them till they reach the top of the hill. The sun’s going down, they don’t have much time to build tonight’s shelter.

They do it wordlessly, they both know what to do. Ash and Redd have built this shelter a dozen times before, it will keep them mostly safe for the majority of the night. They don’t have supplies for anything safer.

Redd breaks their silence first. Ash still hasn’t found the courage to speak first, not after his failure earlier, he just lays in slight shame. ”Ash. I know that we’re really busy fighting for our lives, but can we talk?“

There’s a foreign softness to Redd’s expression. A frown on his lips and tears threatening his eyes; but that might be from the dust that swirled through the valleys today.

Ash doesn’t really want to talk. He needs to, sure, but that doesn’t mean he wants to do it. He pushes himself more upright to meet Redd’s slouched height. If this was going to happen, Ash can’t be physically lower than him. He’s already a worse person, he can’t take any more things over him.

”Yeah, Redd. What-“ he’s cut off.

”What are we?“ Redd asks. It’s not something that Ash could have anticipated.

”We, are. Survivors? Travellers in a vast and barren land?“

”Not like that. Not ”what are we“ but what are ”we“?“ Redd stresses the syllables but it does nothing to clarify the question.

”I still don’t know what you mean.“

”Really?“ he sounds legitimately surprised by that. Ash has no clue what is happening. ”Like, uh. You haven’t been feeling the sparks?“

”The only sparks I’ve seen are the flashes of my gun.“

”Oh. Okay then.“ Redd shifts his legs closer into himself, withdrawing as much as he can in a cramped shelter. ”Can we pretend that this didn’t happen?“

”Uh. Sure. Weirdo.“

”Goodnight?“ Redd offers, he’s done talking but Ash still has things to say.

”Redd.“ Ash stops him from settling down for the night.

”Yeah?“ A faint hope was on Redd’s flushed cheeks. It wasn’t that cold up here, does Ash need to worry about him getting sick?

”I’m sorry.“ Ash tells him, then lets out a big breath. The one that had been weighing him down for days now.

”Sorry for what?“ he asks him. Ash had foolishly hoped he wouldn’t have to elaborate. Alas, this world holds nothing but misfortune.

”Uh. Letting your friends die?“

”We weren’t close.“ Redd quickly refutes. It’s a callousness that Ash hasn’t seen from him yet. Is the apocalypse finally cracking him?

”I’m sorry for not caring about you.“ Ash elaborates. The words taste like sawdust in his throat. Suffocating and dry.

”What?“ It’s Redd’s turn to be confused, his face falls. ”Ash, what?“ Redd looks stunned at this. ”You don’t care about me?“

”I’m sorry, Redd. I didn’t mean it like that.“

”How could you have possibly meant it?“

”I didn’t care about you. I,“ Oh god here was the hard part. ”I do now.“

”What?“ Redd tries to understand the heart wrenching contradictions Ash gave him.

”When we first met, I only brought you with me so the zombies could eat you first. You were expendable.“

”Yeah?“ Redd’s sorrow has whipped back around to a smile. Ash feels his heart race.

”You’re not disposable anymore Redd, I want you here.“ Ash confesses, and this is where it all goes wrong. Ash has always been a loner, he’s always been alone. It was nice hanging with Redd for a while.

Now it’s over because Ashswag can’t have nice things. This wasteland was meant as a punishment for him alone. This world does revolve around him, and it wants to do him harm.

”Oh. Ash, I like you too.“

”You do?“ he’s stunned. This isn’t how things work for him. Only tragedy follows him. Sorrow, heartbreak and now Reddoons.

”Of course, that was what I was trying to say.“

”You were? Why’d you have to phrase it so weird?“

”Sparks fly is a normal euphemism for romance, why are you so weird?“

”I’m not weird, you’re the freak here, Redd.“

”Sure, sure.“ he’s amused and unconvinced. Normally Ash is very concerned with correcting people, but he enjoys the gentle rumble of Redd’s laugh enough that he’ll let this falsehood fly. For now.

”Can you do something for me?“ A light flush covers his face shortly before his hands do to hide it.

”Oh Ash, I’d do so many things for you...