#twb mcc event

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

Pardon me, I just stumbled across this classy little joint, and I'm feeling a little adventurous. I'd like to order a Oneshot On The Rocks, Nico Savoy flavor.

(Gender neutral, fluff. Nico gets into one of his romantic flings with a fellow coworker he's done a few jobs with, but he realizes he likes them too much to let them go.)

I know you have other patrons here, so take your time. I'll be here all night.

Nicodeme Savoy had always been cold.

It had started right from a young age: in the cold stone halls of the convent orphanage; in the stiff wind during the first night he spent on the road with his sister Serafine; in the mud of the marshes they trudged through, only to just get away and be together.

The cold continued through the years, in the cold shoulders people would give him when he asked question—no one wanted to talk to two run away orphans and get in trouble with the cops. It was cold like all the dinners they had to have. It was cold like the glares people would give when they tried to buy something with the little money they tried to scrape together, because they assumed they'd steal anyway. By refusing to let them be honest, they ended up committing more crimes by the age of eighteen than most. It was cold like the slithering bodies of snakes that crawled over them while they slept, like the alligators' thick skin when they found a carcass or came too close to a sleeping one. Everything was cold: the nights, the days, and eventually Nico himself.

Like a reptile, he had cold blood. Empathy was relatively unknown to him. The few jobs he did were those no one would have accepted in a million years—murders, thefts, even hijackings. He did them all with no problems and no moral qualms either. That coldness stayed throughout his life and leaked into things more personal.

He had never been truly lucky in love, or at least lucky enough to keep the ones he had. His conquest list consisted mainly of one night stands, or three months at the most. When they realized it wouldn't work out, many of them turned to anger. They called him cold hearted, just as his enemies called him cold blooded.

Nico paid attention to none of it. He was fine with what he had always had. He didn't need warmth he had spent all his life in the cold he wasn't about to stop now.

But then one day there was something else. Someone else.

At first it, Y/N was just a simple new hire that the Marigold had bought into its liquor circles. It wouldn't be the first time Nico had gone and done a few jobs with a rookie, however it would be the first time that he would become friends with them. There was something about them that intrigued him. Maybe it was the way they matched his skill, or how they proved they were so much cleverer than him, strategized better, truly showed how much of an asset to the Marigold they were.

It surprised him, so he gave it a shot, and as most of his rare new friendships did, banter turned to flirting. Oftentimes, it was one-sided but this time Y/N responded to his advances. That was indeed a surprise too. He played along and so did they.

It was a strange thing between them, something that tiptoed on the line of friendship. Again, Nico had seen something like it before. He knew where this would end and he was right when one night, drunken from an evening spent at the hotel bar, the two of them went back to his room together.

He thought that would be it. They would both get on with their lives and that night would be forgotten, swept away with all the others.

It was far easier said than done. For the first time in years, Nico felt something in him. He wouldn't call it a fire, it was more a single spark somewhere deep in this chest. He thought it would be some sort of heartburn from a poor diet. He ignored it for the most part, and then while looking for medicine he stumbled across Y/N again.

Before long, the burn became bearable. They were his medicine.

Nico didn't understand it, but he knew what made it better. He asked Y/N out on the proper date. They took him up on it and it went relatively well.

So he asked them on another one, and soon they were asking him.

A week turned into a month, a month into two, two months into three. It was when a six month anniversary passed by in a blink of an eye that Nico truly knew something was off.

He couldn't fathom moving on in any way, and that was strange. He was happy where he was romantically. The job was always the same but somehow it became easier, more fun by his partner's side, and then he couldn't ignore it anymore.

There was the warmth.

The hot, delicious feeling that spread throughout him whenever a kiss landed on his cheek, or when their hands took his, or even when a joke turned into shameless flirting. He felt like he was getting wrapped in a large blanket, something unfamiliar but still addicting and comfortable.

More importantly, it was warm.

Very warm.

So warm, he thought his heart might burst.

He had rarely felt anything like it before, except towards his sister. Still, this was different. This was burning with another passion.

He knew something was off, but somehow, for once, he couldn't bear to try and put it right.

He liked this heat, this residue of mistake as some people might call it. His whole body was searing fire and he was too happy and intrigued to try and put it out.

[soullessfawn]

Witness

Grian wasn’t a good person.

He helps at the bird shelter, throws dollar bills into hats for street performers, is a shoulder to cry on for his friends, tutors teenagers in the art of sculpture and inner expression at the local high school, but that didn’t make Grian a good person.

A good person would speak up about the things that go bump in the night, wouldn’t let it stand, yet he was too afraid to, knowing that for some reason his quiet mouth was the only reason he hasn’t been one of the taken.

Grian lives in an old house at the edge of town, passed down through his mothers bloodline, but because his parents never had a girl before there… Turns out he was the only relative that could take the house, and so he became its prisoner.

When the sun meets the horizon, all of Grian’s window shutters would pop up, no matter what he did they’d stay open until the sunrise the next morning. Bolting them, gorilla glue, staples, prayers, nothing worked to keep the things closed.

Grian was just thankful that the windows themselves listened to him. Once all the light from the sun is shadowed, the night actually begins.

Grian could always tell when the sun had fully set, even if he was in the bathroom, which had no windows. The feeling of eyes on his back turned its ugly head, the prickling up his neck telling him that he was being watched would crawl up his spine, settling between his shoulder blades and reminding him what he was about to witness.

No matter how hard he tried to keep his eyes away from the dark spots in his house, it only took a passing glance to see them.

They didn’t have a physical form, more like a mental one, Grian if he had to describe them would say they looked like the biblical description of angels, but slightly off. With eyes, wings and body parts twisted and wrong, the darkness would show him the creatures from his nightmares.

Grian started calling them Watchers after a month into owning the house.

The Watchers loved it when he spotted them, seeming to get more rowdy and productive if he caught their eyes. The lights flickered when the night started and so Grian started using candles to light up the place, he kept himself either in his room or in the study, making mad dashes to the bathroom if needed.

The Watchers weren’t the worst part, it was what they did that's disturbing. Grian would glance out his bedroom window, eyes drawn to the darkness of his street, a moth to a burning flame, you could say.

The street had terrible lighting, and maybe that’s why no one else ever saw anything, but the reason never mattered, because soon enough a man would be walking towards the house, luggage behind him in a red suitcase, charms attached to the zippers.

Grian would watch as a Watcher peeks out from behind a tall lamp poll, its eyes strictly on the man who’s walking down the street. Grian would get up, move closer towards the window, because this was his punishment for never speaking up, for never banging on the window, his punishment was watching, witnessing, the man.

The man wore a red jumper, jeers and had light brown borderline blonde hair, like his own. The man would get about halfway before looking up, freezing at the sight of Grian in the window, not noticing the eyes and wings creeping up behind him.

Grian forced himself to stay silent as his eyes met with his own, watched as the other him went through confusion, then fear.

The Watchers struck then, jumping out of the shadows as an ear piercing scream filled the air, cries and pleads for help ringing in his ears. Grian would place a single hand on the window, the other him being dragged blood and screaming into the darkness towards his house.

Grian’s front door would slam open and shut in quick succession, the screaming continuing through his house until his basement door was opened and the screaming descended the stairs.

One time Grian didn’t go upstairs in time, and was forced to sit in the kitchen as the other him was dragged down the hallway by what first seemed to be an invisible force. Grian, the other one, reached out to him, despite the fact they shared the same face. “Help me!” The other one screamed. “Please!”

Grian had only blinked, hand clutching his hot chocolate in fear, as the other him was thrown down the stairs and the door was shut, sealing in his screams.

The silence was more unsettling, because Grian knew the other wasn’t done calling for help, yet he couldn’t hear a thing.

Grian would go to sleep after that, and magically any blood that was left would be gone, leaving him as the only witness to his own murder.

So Grian was a bad person, horrible, to watch himself die over and over again every night, but the fear of being the one to go next always stops him from asking for help. Grian knows he was singled out from the beginning, having walked that same street in the middle of the night when he moved in the first night.

Grian had seen himself in the window that night, all those months ago, banging on the glass, screaming at him to turn and run, Grian watched as the Watchers descended on the other him in the window, all because the other tried to warn him.

Grian wouldn’t make the mistake of being a hero.

[harley-the-pancake]

Hi, I wrote a Scattered AU aftermath fic with ZITS. It's based in Season 8 and moon big, but still.

I have no idea how I got here smiles

This is also for the writer's block MCC event

[twbmccevent]

🔔 🔔 🔔 Round 1: Hole in the Wall has finished! 🔔 🔔 🔔 

Thank you to everyone who’s participated so far - the TWB MCC Event is off to a strong start 🎉 Congrats on all the submissions, and an extra congrats to the Red Rabbits, who are currently in first place!

Without further ado, here’s the current rankings:

🥇 Red Rabbits: 2340 🥈 Lime Llamas: 2333 🥉 Green Guardians: 2295 Yellow Yaks: 2170 Blue Bats: 1899 Orange Ocelots: 1857 Cyan Creepers: 1825 Pink Parrots: 1805 Purple Pandas: 1735 Aqua Axolotls: 1628

Tune in next week to see the results of Round 2: Bingo but Fic! 

[vitrines]

one more space ausunship story

once again from my au here, about 700 words, kind of an epilogue

   They find a house on a lake.

   Things have changed, in the years since they met. Aimsey still flies, of course: he doesn’t think he could go without it. It helps him breathe, sometimes, when the memories of his brother and the Academy come back, and GUQ holding him close in the late afternoon sun as she naps isn’t enough to dispel the shadows. GUQ understands. She usually comes on the trips, too, checking the simplified AI they’d gotten as replacement and poking fun at it until Aimsey laughs so hard he cries, and then he forgets about the Academy and just burrows himself into GUQ’s side as they hurtle through the stars together.

   It is, all things considered, surprisingly easy to steal a spaceship. The Thrush is quite firmly Aimsey’s. Nobody from H.E.L.L has come looking for it, which is probably helped by the fact that they’ve been staggering in the face of the union membership spike. Their monopoly is fragmenting. Aimsey sits in front of the TV and laughs maniacally sometimes, and GUQ feels thankful that they don’t have any close neighbors. When she’s feeling inspired, she’ll dig through her knowledge base and talk about union and company history, and Aimsey will listen close as a hawk and think about kissing her. 

   But the house. It’s quite lovely. A bedroom with a lake view and skylight, and the morning sun filters in so well through the far wall, a rousing curtain raise beautifully complimented by the sunset view at the end of the day. They fill the room with plants and curtains, small knickknacks from their travels. A screw from Outer Rings Base Gamma, where they’d dropped off the supplies that first time, where it all had started. Wooden utensils from New South Union. A handmade poster from Outer Rings Base Delta, the farthest they’ve traveled so far. (Neither of them are jumping to try the new, farther light jumps, from which nobody has yet come back. They could be safe. But although Aimsey is a ship pilot, he’s not stupid.)

   Various colors and oddities dance before Aimsey’s eyes. It’s very late at night. Moonlight is shining through the skylight, and GUQ, sitting in bed next to Aimsey, is watching the moon while Aimsey half pays attention to a book. He waits, for ten minutes, and then nudges her with his elbow. 

   “Guqqie,” he says. He’s taken to calling her that, sometimes. It’s not a nickname, more an extension of her name, but both of them treat it the same way someone might take baby or sweetheart. Ooh. They’re both big fans of sweetheart, and darling, and love, and a few others. They like taking turns making each other blush. It has been years. And yet every time they are reminded of how lucky they got, it all hits like a light jump.

   “Do you miss the moon?” She considers for a bit, shifting back down into the pillows, and Aimsey drops his book and curls against her, leaning onto his side. His hand finds hers, and she laces her fingers with his, placing her hand gently on top on the bed. 

   “I miss before the merge,” she says quietly. It’s hard for GUQ, having the knowledge of everything all at once. The aftereffects of a merge are still being discovered, and she has violent headaches sometimes. “But not the moon. There’s nothing there for me.” Aimsey tilts his head.

   “It looks pretty.”

   “Not from on the Moon,” she says wryly, squeezing his hand. She pauses. “Aimsey.”

   “Mm. Yeah?”

   “We made it.” Aimsey smiles immediately, as he always does when he remembers. 

   “We did.”

   “I don’t need the Moon,” GUQ murmurs. “I just need you to not get sick of me. Ever.” Aimsey laughs.

   “I wouldn’t worry about that, love,” he smiles. “If anything, you’ll get bored of me.” GUQ looks serious. 

   “No,” she says. “No. That won’t happen. Trust me.”

   Aimsey loves the swoop in his stomach when he sends a ship spiraling. And he loves this just equally, this easy, quiet life, this joy from simple things. Staying up late, taking naps together, traveling and resting and loving. He knows something now that his younger, angrier self didn’t know. Neither of them are gods. They’re both so wonderfully human. And thank God for that. 

[apathyofthesympathetic]

My first fic for @twbmccevent ! There isn’t enough Fae!Tommy content out there <3

Sometimes, Technoblade feels like a ghost wandering the halls of his own castle. He feels invisible; none of the servants can set their eyes upon him, nor his family hear or understand him. He is simply a bystander watching his life pass by.

So, he watches. He watches how the servants flock together and preen under compliments, and gossip behind closed doors. He listens to his family discussing politics and war strategies. He wanders the garden and examines every square inch of the palace, memorising the hidden tunnels that fell out of use centuries ago. He presses his ears against closed doors and uses the knowledge he gains to his advantage, be it to manipulate his way outside the palace walls or to scare off the workers that flock to a good story like crows to shining gold.

It isn’t long before his watching and waiting pays off. Before he learns of tunnels leading to the forest; where the cooks stash their keys to the pantries; where and how to stand to look unimportant enough not to bother, but still regal enough to respect.

Today, he is using the knowledge he has gathered to leave the castle. Not forever, he’s not ready for that yet, but completing a ‘mission’ of sorts out into the forest should prove invaluable.

He sheathes a sword around his waist and stuffs books of poison and venom in his knapsack. He waits until the sun has long since set before squirrelling his way through the castle and into the courtyard. He finds the patch of wall covered in vines and shifts them aside, shoving his bag through the small hole he’s uncovered. He gets on his hands and knees and follows it through.

He stands. Brushes himself off. He reaches for the knapsack, and catches sight of something otherworldly.

A tall, spindly humanoid creature covered in swathes of yellow and brown fur, with a stolen apple tucked between its jaws and its arm elbow deep in Technos bag.

They make eye contact for a long, tense second, before the otherworldly creature turns and bolts. Techno stumbles when he starts to run after it, shouting out for the creature to return his supplies.

Twigs snap at his clothing as Technoblade sprints into the forest, remembering to keep his mouth shut lest the guards hear him. He stumbles over tree roots and ducks under wooden limbs, leaves hitting his face and clawing his braid undone as he keeps his eyes trained on a striped brown and yellow tail flying through the undergrowth. Birds scatter away from him and yet seem unbothered by the creature he follows, and he almost swallows a bug when he jumps over a fallen log.

He hears a high pitched noise not unlike a scream, and grimaces as the sound rakes his eardrums unpleasantly. His vision swims oddly before him and Technoblade is forced to stumble to a stop, leaning on a trunk and feeling awfully lightheaded. He blinks away the spots in his eyes only to come face to face with…

Well. It looks human, for a second. But then he sees the pointed yellow ears poking out from golden hair, brown markings staining the skin around its eyes, and the strikingly bright pupils that seem to glow in the evening.

Technoblade stands stock still, inches away from a Fae.

The creature tilts its head and makes a clicking noise in its throat. Technoblade swallows and leans back slightly, shoulder blades pressing against bark. The Fae raises one hand, displaying its stolen knapsack, and the corners of its mouth turn upward when Techno stares at it.

It’s nose twitches. Techno doesn’t dare breathe.

A crow caws from a nearby tree and the Fae is gone in less than a second.

Techno’s bag lay slumped at his feet.

[c-swirlz]

Phantom Thief of Hearts (And a Grappling Hook)

Prompt: 41) Write the fic from a different character's POV. Summary: The notorious thief Joker has a run-in with the detective chasing him down. Shenanigans ensue. Relationships: Goro Akechi/Persona 5 Protagonist Warnings: None Characters: Goro Akechi, Persona 5 Protagonist Notes: Written for @twbmccevent! This is a remix of @ranbinary's fic, of stealing hearts (and atms). [AO3 link]

Joker flies over rooftops one by one, the wind making his hair fly in all sorts of crazy directions. With pinpoint precision, he fires his grappling hook towards the edge of each new building, allowing himself to swing across the gap for a brief moment before getting the device to pull him upwards.

Glancing down at the road below as he moves, Joker spots a familiar face shoving through the crowd of people gathered there. He smiles, pausing on the roof of the building at the very end of the road, watching as the young detective rapidly closes in on his position. Sure, he could easily just fly to the next set of buildings and lose his pursuer completely, but where’s the fun in that? He instead stashes his grappling hook away and jumps down, ducking around the corner. Footsteps fast approaching, Joker leans against the wall, staring at his gloves as he attempts to look as disinterested as possible.

“Looking for me, detective?” he says, lips curling up into a smirk as Akechi rounds the corner. Glancing up, he can see the detective have to fight to keep a calm, collected expression, almost rolling his eyes before stopping himself.

“You know I am. I’ve been assigned to your case for the past month.”

A whole month? Well damn, Joker must be better at evading capture than he thought. Either that or Akechi is just a shit detective. To be honest, it could very well be a combination of the two. “And yet it took me slowing down for you to catch me.” He’s well aware that his shit-eating grin is visible even beneath the mask, which makes this infinitely funnier. “Now tell me, detective, are you here to turn me in?”

“I should be.” Joker pulls his grappling hook back out, fiddling with it while Akechi continues to speak. Honestly, it’s rather impressive he’s managed to maintain his composure for this long. Joker can’t help but respect the effort. “That depends, though. What did you do this time?”

A coin sits snug in the palm Joker’s free hand. Where it came from, he’ll never tell. When he flicks it up to his fingertips to hold between two fingers, Akechi’s slightly bewildered expression is almost enough to make him laugh. Almost.

“Oh, not much. Not much at all.”

Akechi pauses, and Joker can practically see the cogs in his brain turning at mach speed. This happens a lot. It’s become a game at this point; guessing Joker’s crime of the day. Or week. Depends on what mood he’s in. Today, though, it wasn’t anything super glamorous, just breaking into a few more ATMs. He did consider orchestrating a bank robbery, but ultimately decided that was too much effort. A good choice, he thinks.

Akechi presses a hand to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He does it right between the eyes, too, which can’t possibly be very comfortable. “I really should turn you in right here and now.”

Joker pushes himself off the wall, meeting Akechi’s gaze. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a fire escape protruding from the wall above them, leading up to a balcony. “Should you, now? C’mon.”

“It’s literally my job, Joker.”

Yeah, Joker’s going to take that as his cue to get a move on. He fires the grappling hook at the fire escape, watching as it makes perfect contact with the railing and loops itself around the bars. It’s the perfect escape route. He raises an eyebrow in Akechi’s direction: your move.

“I do have you right here, for once.”

Without breaking eye contact with his adversary, Joker moves a dial on his device with one hand. Very, very slowly, he starts rising up towards the fire escape.

“I could still grab you, idiot. Has anyone told you you’re an idiot recently? They should do it more.”

Joker can’t help but smile at that. “You could say that, yeah, I’ve been told that a bit.” He slides the dial just a small bit further, raising the grappling hook’s speed a tiny amount. He’s still firmly within Akechi’s reach, but the young detective makes no move to apprehend him.

“Is that going to hurt eventually?” Akechi casually lifts a hand, pointing at Joker’s grappling hook. His head tilts up slightly, and Joker realises he’s starting to struggle with maintaining consistent eye contact. “You holding up your whole weight with one arm and all.”

Oh damn, he has a point. “Yeah, probably,” Joker says. “It’s definitely distracting you this way, though.” He can tell Akechi is really tempted to call him an idiot again. He can’t blame him.

“You’re like a foot off the ground. I could grab your hand, let alone your ankle.”

Joker smirks. “But you’re not.”

“Mostly because I wanted to talk to you first,” Akechi says, sounding exasperated, “but you won’t even stay still long enough to have a proper conversation.”

Ah, Joker’s missed this. He’d forgotten how entertaining it is to wind Akechi up like this. “I will stay long enough to ask how you’re going to tell your superiors you lost me, though.” He fiddles with the dial again, increasing the speed of the grappling hook one last time, and watches as Akechi raises an eyebrow.

“As far as they’re aware, this never happened. You turned the corner on a busy street and you were gone.”

“Good.” Joker breaks eye contact with Akechi, pulling the trigger on the grappling hook. He shoots up to the balcony in an instant, backflipping before landing on his feet. He leans over the railing, crossing his arms as he peers down at the poor detective stuck on the ground below. Well, not exactly stuck — the fire escape is right there — but it’s not like he’s making a move either way.

“Hey, I’ll see you around later, detective. Another time, maybe.”

Without waiting for a response, Joker leans back from the edge, concealing himself amongst the shadows. He watches Akechi leave, chuckling quietly to himself.

His job here is done.

The TV is on when Akira returns to his apartment, playing some random show he doesn’t recognise. He makes himself a fresh cup of coffee before flopping down on the couch in front of the screen, removing his glasses and running a hand through his hair. Several minutes later, he hears the latch of the door click. Looking up, he smiles when he spots his boyfriend entering.

“Hey. How was your day?”

“I think you know perfectly well how my day was.” Akira fights back the strong urge to laugh. Akechi strides over to where Akira is sitting, planting a kiss on his cheek. Akira loudly complains about Akechi blocking the view, but doesn’t actually care all that much. It was a dumb show anyway. The smile doesn’t leave his face the entire time.

“Business as usual, then?”

“You could say that.” Akechi slides into the other room for a brief moment, and when he returns, he’s no longer holding his briefcase. Akira assumes he put it on the table with all his paperwork, because the guy clearly doesn’t know how to keep a workspace organised. When Akechi returns, he takes a seat next to Akira, leaning back against the pillows. “Nearly caught a thief. Some random guy, very annoying, quite an idiot.”

Akira chuckles. Akechi really does have some strange obsession with calling people idiots. Or maybe he just reserves that especially for the elusive thief. How kind of him. “Oh? Annoying and an idiot? Quite a combination coming from you.”

“Did I forget handsome? Would you be happier then?”

“Definitely.” Akira can feel another laugh tickling the back of his throat, so he reaches for his coffee cup and takes a long, slow sip, which thankfully keeps it at bay.

“You’re going to have to show me that grappling hook later, by the way. I want to know how it works. I assume Sakura helped you with it?”

“She did, yeah.” Akira sets his cup back down on the table, thinking back to when he had approached Futaba with the idea for the device. She was ecstatic, and she’d barely left her room while she worked on it. It came out so much better than Akira had initially thought it would. “It was mostly her this time, but it was my idea. Thought it would be funny.”

“More like exasperating,” Akechi mutters, and Akira finds he can’t hold his laughter in any longer. It drowns out the sound of the TV almost completely.

Akira couldn't ask for a better life - or a better boyfriend.

[archaic-grey]

i wanted to be the one

He thinks that you’re dumb, but you have the car, a shiny red Mustang your father sent you the keys to on the day of your sixteenth birthday, and you have him. You have Whelk’s afternoons and evenings and nights, his laughter and his grin and the way he hovers his pencil above his paper when he’s thinking. You have him in your car, you have him next to you, you have him sprawled across your dorm bed and perched on your desk chair.

or, the one where noah lets himself love someone he shouldn't

featuring: not actually unrequited love, a confession, murder, and extended metaphors

1.7k - read it here

(written for the @twbmccevent)

[blightedlegion]

RED RABBIT SWEEP!

[navysealt4t]

hiii i dont think i have any tlou mutuals but. if u wanna see a dad and daughter being rlly sweet and shit i have 1.3k words for u <3

purple pandas sweep <3

[pyrriax]

Ok so I just read the latest chapter of wtds. and I just have to say, Haunt you FUCKING OUTDID YOURSELF!!!! omfg it is literally one of the best things I've ever read, I cried and they were semi happy tears!! AND OMFG PANDORA IS SO FUCKED UP I LOVE HIM. that demon has demons and I'm FUCKING living for it.

in short Haunt, thank you for existing and making that amazing work of art. /genuine

IM ACTUALLY GONNA SOB DANE . I WILL CRY!!

i promised good things happening soon and i meant it!!! :D he is SO fucked up and we're getting to the point where things start unraveling and IM SO EXCITED for the next chapter its gonna be FLUFF (with angst at the start but then its FLUFF!)

ALSO a small thing i changed because i NOTICED a thing is that i adjusted "is he the animal, or the hunter?" to "is he the hunter, or the hunted?" :3

and im so glad to hear you enjoyed the chapter!! <3

[harley-the-pancake]

I have joined an event that I feel like I can actually do with @twbmccevent ! I'm a yellow yak, and here's my first hitw fic!

It's a Disney Fairies AU fic with Seapeekay becoming a fox fairy

I apparently have a brand for Seapeekay in my writing and it is making him a fox lmao

[twbmccevent]

Hey writers!

Sign ups for TWB's MCC event are now open! This is a competitive, multifandom writing event, running from June to August, inspired by MCC. Signups close on May 31st. If you're interested, join the discord for more information and to sign up: https://discord.gg/M8prCzTBNb

More info below the line!

The event is comprised of eight rounds of challenges, plus an event-wide dodgebolt. However, participants are not required or expected to take part in every round! While the event draws inspiration from a minecraft event, you’re welcome to write fics for any fandom (or original works) in this event! A summary of each of the rounds can be found here:

hole in the wall: themed prompts are sent out daily! work with your team to keep a daily streak of fics posted! 

bingo but fic: write prompts from your team bingo board to complete bingos! 

parkour tag: write fics to tag other teams with a potato. the less potatoes you have at the end of the round, the more points you'll earn!

grid runners: your team enters a room full of prompts. complete each prompt to unlock the next room - aim to get through as many as possible!

battle box: similar to fic fight, write fics for prompts submitted by other teams! build mart: combine prompts to get points! the more prompts used to write a fic, the more points you'll earn!

to get to the other side and whack a fic: submit any unfinished WIPs or prompts you missed from previous rounds!

sands of time: challenge based writing prompts! complete prompts of different difficulties, for varying amounts of points. keep an eye out for hidden vault keys and traps!

[vitrines]

small au!guqqie drabble for twb mcc

wrote this for bingo, decided it's not quite up to my ao3 standards but still wanted to share it!

about 800 words, warnings for depersonalization

--

   It’s not like people with no origin were out of the ordinary. 

   It was a community of stragglers, after all. A mix-up of people from the road, whoever managed to stumble across these lands. Some had tails, fur, glowing eyes or any manner of strange features. Some particularly annoying members had horns, dark and carved against their foreheads, and smiles like a fox’s eyes from ground level in the forest, far from home and late at night. 

   And it was probably normal that for the life of them, Guqqie could not tell you how they got here.

   Life is long, okay? It’s been a long while since they settled here, and longer still since they found the place. In fact, before an eye-opening conversation a week ago with previously mentioned irritating demon, Guqqie simply assumed that none of their friends here remembered their past.

   Aimsey had blinked at them, twice, then three more times, and asked if they wanted to see a doctor, with a previously unheard level of concern in his voice. But Guqqie didn’t think any doctor could help them. (This conclusion was partially aided by the fact that they didn’t have any doctors, nor any people Guqqie was exactly eager to let near their face with sharp objects.)

   “I don’t need to know,” Guqqie had protested, standing their ground in front of the enchantment table (which Aimsey was trying to steal again, the bastard.) Aimsey had let out something that was either a squawk or a laugh.

   “You bloody well do,” he’d said. “Your past is extremely important. Imagine if I didn’t know where I came from?” He’d shuddered. But Guqqie had felt backed into a corner, and tired, and trapped by Aimsey’s insistent gaze.

   “You and me are different people,” they had snapped, grabbing at the enchantment table and running away before they had to see Aimsey’s face fall.

   That’s the issue with Aimsey. He does things, and Guqqie stops him, and he gets this kicked puppy look that gives Guqqie the silly, stupid urge to just let him do the damn thing. That would not hold. And he is doing it on purpose. 

   God, they can’t stand him.

   But the demon had a point. Because Guqqie was sleepwalking, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot, always a mystery. And they couldn’t figure out why. This had been fine, at first, if a bit inconvenient and counterproductive to their landscaping. Really. Whichever entity was disrupting their sleep should learn how to match colors. And then several months had passed, and Guqqie’s life had flipped over in several directions, leaving them wobbly on their feet and more than a little enamored by that same demon. It also left blood on their hands, and a sickly sweet taste in their mouth.

   Wallowing in despair was no good. (They’d tried that, for a few days, before giving up.) Guqqie had to know why. And so, with a hollow, jagged heart, they followed the hated trails of flowers, and they found a lab, hidden deep underground, and they found papers and test tubes and tanks of water that served no apparent purpose. The most important part was the paper sealed away in a document stuffed behind the filing cabinet. Their name, with a piece of code tied directly to them, and at the second line in big red letters the word CLONE. 

   This whole time, Guqqie had been trying to find themself. There was no self to find. They were not even their own whole person. Just an old cicada shell, hoping and wanting and fucking up a life that was not theirs. 

   And now they’d lost the only person who loved them for them. And the trust of those who cared for them. All because the body’s real owner was playing some twisted game.

   The floor of the lab is cold, and dirty, and not in Guqqie’s top ten list of places to sob uncontrollably, but it’s not as if they have other options. Their hands catch on the floor, cracking and breaking where the tiles are jagged and quickly laid. Were there others out there like them? Were those others successful and happy?

   Was it only them who was unworthy?

   Should have known. Too good to be true. And you are not good enough for this life, for this body, for these people. 

   You are just a copy. And that is all you will ever be.

   One day, they had dreamed of climbing the tallest tree, the highest tower, clambering over logs and ladder rungs, striving and striving for perfection. Seeing the universe and the world below laid out before them. Reaching out to touch the stars. It would have felt like a reunion. 

   Now you know: you are tethered to the ground. So it goes.

[inbetweenhours]

“You-” Jimmy’s attention draws away from Norman back to Scott, much to the dragon's annoyance. “It’s not bitten you.”

Scott looks a mix of disbelief and aw, though his brows stay pinched with concern. Jimmy chuckles, patting at the dragon's head with a grin.

“Norman’s very friendly!”

“You’ve tamed it.” Scott sounds breathless at the thought, entirely taken aback by the very thought.

“I guess,” Jimmy shrugs in noncommittal agreement. “Hardly call him tamed. He’s always been pretty nice to me.”

---

A dragon rider/hunter au inspired by HTTYD. Jimmy introduces Scott to his dragon friend Norman and asks the dragon slayer to trust him, and let him show Scott just how wonderful Norman can be. Of course, Pining all the while.

Im involved in TWB MCC Event which is a writing event within the TCB server. The first game is up and as part of that I wrote this one shot based offthe prompts for the first day. Go Yellow Yaks!