#fic bits

[dandelion-wings]

kicking wild AUs around with @theabysscomeshome and this is another in the Not Actually Going To Write It category, but this scene really stuck with me, so a brief snippet:

"Grand Sage," Lisa says as sweetly as she can manage, smiling at him. She very carefully doesn't look up and dare draw his attention, or that of the matra with him, to the branches overhead where Kaeya lurks. "How nice to see you. I was just taking my underclassmen to study in the House of Daena." She rests one hand over her catalyst at her belt, casually, as if she's not perfectly positioned to unhook the tome from its strap, and puts the other down on Collei's shoulder. Cyno has better self-restraint; he's rigid at her side, but most of his attention is on her, waiting for instruction. Collei has ducked a little behind her in what she suspects anyone else would take as childish fear. Lisa knows what she's really restraining. His lip curls. "This is exactly why I'm here. You and your instructor have coddled those *subjects* far too much. I'm reassigning them to another research team immediately, before you irreparably taint their research value."

Fury floods crackling through Lisa's veins, and a thousand and one retorts rise to her lips. None of them will make an impression on him, though. She knows what this is really about. Why he's really here.

*Zendik.* Kaeya was right. The strings he's been pulling lead all the way up.

"I haven't received any reassignment paperwork," she says, sweetly, teeth still gritted in a smile. She doesn't dare start to unbuckle her catalyst yet. There's four matra flanking the Grand Sage, and she has no intention of giving them an excuse. Not before Kaeya gets here.

"It will be forthcoming," the Grand Sage says, drawing himself up.

The matra are watching her tensely, and Cyno even more so; they, too, seem to be disregarding Collei as the frightened child she so often seems. So often is, Lisa corrects herself, but that doesn't make her any less dangerous. She's not sure whether to be more insulted on her behalf or on Cyno's that they're tenser about him, as if his desert skin and desert god make him an inherent threat to good order despite all his careful self-discipline, and as if *she* isn't the Witch of the Purple Rose.

"I see. In the meantime, why don't my underclassmen and I-"

"The *subjects*," the Grand Sage says, a muscle in his jaw jumping.

Which was exactly the wrong point to quibble on. Collei gives a choked, furious sob and tears away from Lisa, trying to dart past the matra towards the far edge of the plaza and the ramp down to freedom. The matra, focused on Cyno and Lisa, don't move fast enough; the Grand Sage, unfortunately, has even less ability at threat assessment, and snatches at Collei as she brushes past. He catches a hank of her hair, so recently freed from the bandages, and she screams.

The hair on the back of Lisa's neck goes up. She can feel the power pulsating from Collei's small frame, bare inches from going out of control--from being *unleashed*. Because it will be, if Collei thinks that's the only way out. The matra all quail, crying out in confusion more than in terror, uncertain as to why they're afraid and all the more frightened for it. Lisa steps in front of Cyno, yanks on the strap around her catalyst, and pulls it free, as if it would be any help against the Black Fire.

Kaeya hits the ground directly beside Azar, rolls, and comes up with his catalyst already glowing in his hand. He tosses it up to hover beside him as he reaches out to grab Collei's arm, and he digs his other elbow into the Grand Sage's gut to make him let go as he yanks Collei away. The man grunts and stumbles back, winded by the blow, and catches up against the railing of the platform-

And flails for just a second, eyes wide with terror, before he pitches over to plummet to the ground below. Lisa flinches at the distant, unpleasant *'splat'*.

Pulling Collei in close against him, Kaeya glances over the edge, looks up at Lisa, and shrugs. "Whoops."

"The Grand Sage!" one of the matra cries, comprehension returning and horror infusing his tone as the ominous weight of Collei's nearly-unbound power lifts away. "He's murdered the Grand Sage!"

"We'd been talking about storming the Sanctuary of Surasthana anyway," Kaeya says, throwing Lisa a wry smile before he turns to meet their leveled spears. "We may just have to do it a little ahead of schedule."

"I'm beginning to agree with you about getting answers from the Archon herself," Lisa tells him, ozone filling the air as her own catalyst starts to glow purple-bright along its bindings. "Especially since we can't ask them of Azar any longer. Though if Cyno and Collei could-"

"I don't think we have the time for that. It's fine. Collei, do you still have those daggers I gave you?"

Collei makes a small, determined noise and pulls two wickedly sharp blades out from somewhere in her clothing. Lisa sighs, sets aside the matter of arming small children to discuss with Kaeya *later*, and prepares to pair with him in a Superconduct that will make those blades more effective. There is value, she supposes, in teaching Collei alternative ways to defend herself.

"I don't have a dagger," Cyno mutters behind her, sounding put out. "Why didn't I get a dagger?"

"Later," Lisa tells him, firmly, and lets her Lantern Rose bloom.

#fic bits #kaeya about five minutes after breaking into the sanctuary of surasthana (he needed time to process the situation): #'not that i felt bad about the grand sage in the first place. but if i had i would feel much better now' #and then lisa and kaeya speedrun the archon quest like five years early #entirely because lisa started off wanting to refute zendik's latest paper. his research methods are bad and he should feel bad #which was her opinion even BEFORE they discovered the human experimentation #she thought his accounting of methods and results was too vague to support his numbers and now she knows why he was vague about it! #kaeya was initially just here to support his roommate in her academic rivalry and then they found collei and. well. #when he's NOT viewing her as a threat to mondstadt? he is all for getting his own occupied-by-an-evil-god underclassman #look lisa look. this one doesn't have moral qualms about killing people without just cause :) can i keep her?

[valyrfia]

HAND OVER THE FF LESTAPPEN

alright, check it out

Charles blames the Instagram algorithm, when one day she’s scrolling aimlessly only to come across pictures of Max Verstappen in a bikini. 

Max lounging on her stomach across a sunbed under the European sun next to a cerulean sea, the band of her dark blue bikini riding up, sitting snug across her muscular shoulders peppered with moles and the unmistakable shape of a fading wine-coloured mark high up on the curve of her shoulder that makes something in Charles's throat curdle and sets something strange and deep in her core alight.

She sends it to Pierre immediately, because of course she does. 

Charles Look at this shit. She probably called the paps on herself. 

And that’s the odd feeling deep in her stomach, it’s anger, the fact that Max can be snapped near naked on a strange foreign beach without consequence and Charles has to be careful that the knee-length skirt she wears on errands in Monaco doesn’t get blown up, lest she gets another embarrassing lecture from Mattia on her public image. Be careful Charletta, he would say, Santina is a better nickname than Puttana. Puttana, a fitting word to describe Max’s recent endeavours, really. Charles’s socials have been pushing her the pictures all week. Max outside bars, hanging onto tall men who make more in a year than Charles would care to mention, their young pretty wives off to the side with them, seemingly resigned to the fate of what’s happening. After all, who could compete with Max Verstappen, champion of the world?

#the vague idea is charles leclerc heavily repressed lesbian with a shit ton of internalised misogyny AND lesbophobia #also in this version charles gets the nickname santina instead of/on top of el predestinata #mainly because of this whole idea in media culture of women must be passive in their narrative #basically it's fi takes on a man-centred world view and takes an unwilling ff lestappen along with her #lestappen #fic bits #also charles is still charles because a. i cannot name swap when i genderbend #and b. i decided charles was catholic so it would be appropriate for her to just be named maria charles leclerc #and she goes by charles obviously because everyone and their mother has the first name maria in southern europe #ALSO MATTIA USES THE DIMINUTIVE FORM WITH CHARLES'S NAME BECAUSE HE'S A MISOGYNISTIC ASSHOLE! #anyway fun facts with fi #i've thought this out #maybe now that work calms down i'll get around to writing this properly i anticipate it to be maybe like a 30k oneshot

[canonical-transformation]

“Ouroboros” (WIP extract, working title)

----

"How pathetic you all are," spat the girl-monster. Finally, finally, she was vile again, just like she'd always known she was, just like she'd nearly forgotten. "I was right under your noses this whole time."

The Knight, still short of breath, stared at her, uncomprehending.

Go on. You're a Knight. Is it not your job to slay the Beast? Didn't we see that exact story, Vennessa and Ursa, play out in a puppet show just hours ago?

She'd play the role if she had to.

"Two dead. So what?" She smiled wide, teeth bared, the way her physician always had. "I'd do it all over again."

The Knight's face softened. "That wasn't you," she said.

The fool, she didn't understand.

"You're wrong. You're wrong! That was me. I killed them, and I don't even care. They'd never have spared a thought for scum like me, why would I return them the courtesy? What are you waiting for?... Come on. Come at me!"

"...no."

Idiot. Idiot.

"This is your chance!" said the girl-monster. "Come on, chosen heroes of Mondstadt! You know you're no match for me, but... fight me, or I'll... I'll kill them all!"

She swept her arm in the direction they came, where, several blocks away, the sounds and smells and sights of Ludi Harpastum bustled on, unaware of the scene unfolding on the rooftop.

The Knight's face changed, and it— it was a smile. A sad smile, but a smile nonetheless, almost a kind one, at that.

Thrown off, the girl-monster repeated, "I'll kill them all, you hear me?"

...but the moment had passed. Her words lacked gravitas, desperation inflecting her voice as she came to realise that no end was coming for her.

The Knight smiled, a sad smile, perhaps kind, and looked the girl-monster in the eye and told her that she wasn't real. That there was no monster, there was only—

"No. Why are you... no, you can't say that..."

—there was only the girl who'd helped the Knight with her investigations; the girl who had shared fried radish balls and treasured her simple prize at the fair; the one who couldn't use a slingshot but tried her best anyway.

That, the Knight told her, was the girl she knew.

Somewhere beneath the girl-monster's layers upon layers of hurt and anger and terror, she felt a twinge of fear: a new kind of fear, one she'd never known before. She was too inexperienced to understand what it was, but she knew enough to understand that something was terribly, terribly wrong...

...for the Knight's smile, sad and kind, eyes glistening in the moonlight, was the warmest thing the girl-monster had ever seen.

She knew that a proper monster ought to destroy that smile. But she also knew she hadn't the resolve to.

#fic bits #my writing #genshin impact #black fire incident #ludi harpastum #cuilein anbar #collei #amber

[ohmygodletmesignup]

FicBit

rrrrring

Danny never thought he’d be calling up Vlad of all people, especially in this state. He'd been hurt. badly. and was desperately hoping the truce with Vlad still stood. 

rrrrrrring. 

He didn’t know who else to call, there really was no one he could call. if Vlad didn’t help him, Danny, without a doubt, would die there.  For real this time.

rrrrring. 

Please, please answer Vlad, please. Danny’s vision began to go in and out. His knees almost buckled under his weight. He didn’t know what to do. Danny slid down against the wall of the alleyway he had hidden himself in. 

rrrrring. 

Tears began to well in his eyes.  The pain had started to become too much. his eyes started closing but he almost couldn’t tell, his vision had almost completely gone, he was losing consciousness. 

rrrrr-

“Hello?” Thank god. Vlad had answered.

-----------

LMK what y'all think, and maybe I'll post more <3

#dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #fanfiction #danny phantom fanfic #fanfic #fic bits #vlad masters #phandom

[jon-snows-man-bun]

The steward showed Eris to the moon gardens high in the mountain, a lovely, enchanted grotto lined with silvery foliage and night-blooming flowers. Ropes of jasmine climbed the stone walls, fronds of jessamine dangling over the paths; dim faelights cast an ethereal glow over the whole chamber.

Like all of the Hewn City, there were no windows, only the living rock. Instead, there was a skylight carved through the rock ceiling, a shaft to the night sky beyond through which moonlight fell. He had no doubt it was warded so heavily that not a drop of rain could pass through.

It seemed crueller, somehow, to have these little holes to the outside here and there. Better to never see the sky at all and not know what you were missing; what could have been yours had you not been unfortunate enough to be born in the Hewn City.

Aisling was there, sat on a carved bench and gazing out of that window to the stars beyond. Her pale skin was nearly luminous in the moonlight, and she looked like some lovely marble folly, a forgotten princess.

“This looks a very familiar garden,” he said, idly drawing closer to her. Her scent came to him mixed with the flowers: lilac and rose and mist, layered with something darker. A scent he wanted to rub all over himself, roll around in like a dog. His blood sang the closer he got to her.

Aisling looked over her shoulder at him, the pheasant feather catching the moonlight where it held half her hair back.

“I wanted you to see something lovely about my home,” she said, eyes drinking him in as he sat next to her. They were bewitching, those eyes.

“I already have,” he said lowly to her, one long finger tracing her jaw, unable to resist touching her. Her pulse ticked under the pad of his finger, her eyes darting between his.

“The orgies in the throne room?” She guessed with a little smile.

“I’ve yet to be invited to one of those,” Eris replied, reclining next to her, affecting a posture of ease and relaxation.

“If you keep treating with Lord Keir then I’m sure the invitation will be forthcoming,” Aisling replied, still smiling as she looked back at the skylight. He wondered how many saw her wry humour, or if they only ever saw her face carved from marble. It flattered him to know she felt she could show him what she couldn’t to others in this decrepit place.

“It must be, I’m very put out. All I hear from Rhysand is how evil and wicked you all are, and yet…” he opened his hand in a gesture at the garden around them. A place for lovers and secrets and dreams, overseen by a crescent moon so luminous it may as well have been a blazing torch.

“That’s all I hear of you as well, actually,” she remarked, sneaking a small look at him under her lashes. The sight made something coil in his chest, creeping under his ribs and into his lungs.

“And do you find me wicked and evil?” He asked, gently touching the pheasant feather in her hair. It pleased him to see her wear it, his little gift to her.

“Unbearably so,” Aisling replied easily. “Cruel and heartless besides.”

#fic bits #my writing #eris vanserra #why is it easier to write the scenes you like and work backwards? #all of these are coming down when I piece together the whole story

[matariki-ascending]

In the end, it's all Thorin's fault.

Well, of course it's his fault right from the beginning. If he hadn't decided it was time to reclaim his mountain and talked to Gandalf about it, Gandalf would never have showed up at Bilbo's home, scratched up his lovely, newly painted door and made him go on an adventure, and then Bilbo would never have had to deal with trolls and goblins and orcs and gollums and eagles and spiders and elves and armies. Not to mention the bloody dragon.

And neither would he have ended up here, heralded hero of Elves and Men, jealously guarded by Possessive Darves.

Yes, it was all Thorin's fault.

*

Found this in my "fictional stuff" folder. Can't even remember writing it. But thought to share ~ maybe somebody else knows how, exactly, Bilbo ended up the Heralded Hero of Middle Earth.

... or at least whether being jealously guarded by Possessive Dwarves includes pocket handkerchiefs at all. 😃

#the hobbit #fanfiction #fic bits #bagginshield #probably

[sansofhumor]

Little writing round up / teaser after the cut.

Warnings for unreality maybe. It's sans. It's always sans.

The wisps of a dream fades as Sans adjusts to consciousness. He's on the couch. The curtains are wide open casting a warm glow on the carpet in front of him. He's on the surface.

Judging by the angle of the light it's mid afternoon. He can't hear Papyrus in the house. That's not unusual; his bro is a busy guy. Sans pushes himself up on the couch and scratches at his temple. He doesn't remember if Papyrus should be at work, or if he's out running errands, or if he's hanging out with Undyne, or—

His phone is in his pocket. It tells him the date and more importantly Papyrus's latest texts.

[8:30am] REMEMBER! I AM CAMPING WITH FRISK AND FLOWEY TODAY!

[8:30am] SO! DON'T FORGET YOUR BREAKFAST! IN THE OVEN!

[8:31am] AND. DON'T FORGET! I LOVE YOU.

[11:15am] LUNCH IS IN THE REFRIGERATOR.

[11:17am] [LOOKATTHISBUG.JPG]

[11:43am] [LOOKATTHEM.JPG]

[11:43am] [LOOKATME.JPG]

[12:02PM] [LOOKATUS.JPG]

There's a few more images after that in the same vein: Papyrus and his favorite freaks climbing all sorts of rocks and trees and streams.  There's even one photo of Flowey, clinging to the edge of a rock jutted in the middle of water, a vine held out for a Dragonfly to land on.

Sans flips the phone closed. The front screen flashes 5:54pm in 8 bit letters before dulling.

He remembers eating breakfast from the oven, doesn't remember lunch, so he must've napped pretty soon after.  There's a knock knock at the front door, from a determined, if small, fist.

Sans stands, pocketing his phone.

"who's there?" He calls as he reaches the door.  The kid doesn't respond, which isn't abnormal, but he doesn't hear Papyrus grumbling about the blatant joke set up either. Maybe he's unpacking the car still.

His last text was at 1:04pm.

"not feelin' up to it? no problem," he says while reaching for the front door. "I got enough words for the both of us."

The door creaks open, shadow cast over the kid's face. The flower pot is in their arms. He can't quite see their expression yet.

"what's up, kiddo—"

Papyrus is holding their hand in his.

Papyrus is also about three inches shorter than Frisk and swimming in his clothes.

"THE SKY?" Papyrus answers, looking up, dubiously.  "RIGHT FRISK? YOU SAID THAT WAS THE SKY?"

His voice is higher pitched. Young sounding.

"We already went over this! Get it through your thick skull you– uh– baby!" The flower in Frisk's arms growls.

Papyrus looks down from the sky. He looks up at Sans. Sans hasn't been taller than his brother for. Well. A long time. There isn't recognition in his eyes.

Then all at once there is.

"SANS???" Papyrus's hand tightens in the kid's and his face stiffens up in an expression Sans hasn't seen in, well. A long time.

Sans kneels down and spreads his arms like a rusty machine. "hey bro," he says. "long day?"

Papyrus lets Frisk's hand go and his body hits Sans' chest like a potato sack. Sans let's himself rock back before settling his arms around his more literal than usual little brother.  Just like he remembers, Papyrus' bones quake and then he starts yowling.

"WHY IS THERE A SKY? WHERE IS EVERYONE? WHERE WERE YOU? SANS!" Papyrus wails into Sans' jacket with as much force as he can muster.  "WHERE'S ALL THE SNOW? I— I — I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED AND I—"

Sans rubs at Papyrus's—small, narrow—back but he looks over his shoulder at the kid and the flower. Tilts his head at them. Smiling.

The flower sneers but Frisk at least looks worried. Not guilty.

"why don't we, uh, take this inside." He picks Papyrus up and settles him against his chest like he's done it a thousand times before. He has.  His knees just ache a bit more now.

He barely waits for the kid to follow but pulls the door shut behind them.  Papyrus has graduated from trying his damndest to deafen him to sniffling quiet into his hoodie.  Too much going on outside, Sans thinks. Too much light and noise and uncertainty for him.

Sans can feel him peak up over his shoulder, no doubt casing the joint like a punk. Sans feels him stiffen when he realizes he doesn't recognize the house.  It's certainly not their home in Snowdin, but even if it had been Papyrus wouldn't recognize it now. Not this young, at least.

Sans shoots a look at the kid and flower behind him, and deposits his brother on a dining room chair. Papyrus' fingers grip his shoulders tighter before unsticking and letting go.  While Sans drags the refrigerator door open with his foot and roots around for something to feed everyone he tries to remember whether that's to be expected, or worrisome.

When he turns back around Frisk has taken a seat across the table from Papyrus, Flowey still gripped in their hands.  Papyrus has his skull craned to keep an eye on Sans.  Sans doesn't bother heating up the left over casserole courtesy of Tori before he drops it and a couple plates on the table.

Papyrus makes a noise of interest. Before he can tear into it with his bare hands like the feral gremlin he is, Sans slops a portion onto his plate with a spoon.  He adds another scoop, and then a smaller one on top, a misshapen lump that should—

"SANS!! STOP! PLAYING WITH THE FOOD!!" Papyrus demands in a shrill voice.

"what, you too old for casserole-men?" He asks.

"THERE IS NO SUCH— SANS!!" Papyrus's voice reeds into a frustrated whine when he recognizes Sans' voice when he makes a bad joke.

"yeah. I'll, heh, cool it."

"THERE'S NOT EVEN ANYTHING TO COOL. IT'S NOT FUNNY IF IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE." Papyrus accepts the spoon from Sans' hand. The right spoon, sans remembers, because Papyrus doesn't like them too big or too small.

"Hah! That's what I keep saying!" The flower says. 

Frisk wants Flowey to be quiet, but since that's a lost cause they also thought the little snowman on Papyrus' plate was pretty ice. 

"It's definitely snow joke." Sans says and takes their plate. "If Tori finds out you didn't reheat her casserole you're gonna need more fortitude than I can give you before she's through." There's a little square shape on their plate when he hands it back. Squinting, it could look like a sentry station. Or maybe a fort.

Frisk scrunches up their face and Sans can see them repeat casserole and fortitude until their eyes light up. Castle-roll, yes, yes. Sharp kid.

"So, uh. Wanna tell me what happened?"

He's staring at Frisk, and by extension the flower, but it's Papyrus who answers. 

"I DUNN— DON'T KNOW— I JUST WOKE UP AND IT WAS VERY BRIGHT AND YOU WEREN'T ANYWHERE TO BE SEEN!" Sans would wince, if he weren't smiling. "BUT FLOWERY—"

"Flowey!" The flower interjects. Papyrus' grip on his spoon tightens.

"FLOWEY FOUND ME AND THEN FRISK AND THEY EXPLAINED? A LITTLE BIT? LIKE WHY IT'S SO BRIGHT??? BECAUSE OF. THE SUN???" Papyrus' voice gets more and more incredulous as he speaks and he throws Sans a glance like Sans'll explain anything at all. "AND WHEN I. ASKED. ABOUT YOU, THEY TOOK ME ON A VERY LONG, VERY SKETCHY, HIKE WHICH ENDED UP HERE SO I SUPPOSE NOT THAT SKETCHY."

"why didn't you call?" Sans asks Frisk.

They pull out their phone, which is shattered. Somehow.  Alphys doesn't make those very breakable. Sans glances at the corner of the kitchen like the shadows and completely benign dust gathered there can answer his questions. Papyrus' phone, if he even has it, is probably the same.

He decides to ignore that they've been walking for probably close to four hours to make it back here and instead asks, "okay. so what happend on your end?"

"There was a crash and then babybones here was screaming like someone was murdering him." Sans isn't sure he likes the tone in the flower's voice. Frisk doesn't either with the way they flick the closest petal to them. But they also don't contradict the flower either, and they aren't hiding anything that Sans can see. So he huffs a sigh.

"Go call Tori," he says and hands them his phone. They hop up and take Flowey with them into the next room.  As soon as they turn the corner Papyrus pipes up.

"WHY? ARE YOU SO? OLD?"

The flower's cackling is loud and clear and makes Papyrus glare in a general direction. Sans elects to ignore the things he cannot control.

"You know how, when you get older, you grow up?" Sans asks.

Papyrus squint his eyes, like he is suspecting sans of setting him up for a joke.  He still nods. "YES I AM—" He glares again in Flowey's general direction. "I am aware! Of! Basic facts?"

"Well, I grew up." Sans explains, shrugging. "You grew up, too."

"I DID?" Papyrus forgets his volume again as he slams his little palms in the table and straightens up, balancing comically precarious on the chair. "WHAT AM I LIKE? WHERE AM I?"

"You're right here. Dunno where uh, older you is, if you're here." Sans offers. Papyrus frowns, digesting that. 

"SO OLDER ME... MAYBE. IF I AM WITH OLD YOU, THAN OLD ME IS WITH MY YOU. Now? Uhm..." Papyrus's face contorts into something very nearly worried. Sans doesn't feel like he has any new memories of running into an overly friendly skeleton as a child so he takes a moment to imagine it instead. 

Papyrus would be thrilled to babysit him, at least. And Sans had never been a... difficult... child. Mostly too quiet and still.  But Papyrus wouldn't be daunted in the least by Sans' quirks, and would be familiar and gentle, and also fun.  If the Papyrus Sans had grown up with had magically swapped places with his younger version, Sans would probably be better for it.  That most likely didn't happen, though, and if it had, it definitely wouldn't be anything for the Papyrus in front of him to worry about.

<-‐----------new story---------->

It's too late to turn back now. The walls are closing in, dark yet darker. A suffocating mantle of an embrace, vast and endless. Claustrophobic. Confining. There is no escape. Call for help, for anybody.

No one comes.

Sans jerks out of his sleep, a prickle behind his sockets. There's a whining pain building up in his head; behind the bones of his skull a ringing static rears forward.  He won't be able to fall back asleep. That's fine. He gets up and stumbles downstairs, avoiding the clothes on the floor.  The kitchen is dark. The appliances are cold and a thin film of buildup has clung to them from disuse. 

He checks the oven out of habit, but there's only a haphazard stack of dirty dishware there. He checks the refrigerator. Empty, stained containers line the shelves like tombstones.  There's no clean dishes in the house: they lie abandoned in stacks on counters and tables, even the floor in his room. Sans leaves the kitchen and instead finds the bathroom sink.

He takes a drink from the cool tap water and takes a moment to let it run over his skull. His phalanges are cold, but his face feels flushed.  The water seems to wipe away the migraine. For now. Sans doesn't bother wiping his face off or finding new clothes when he leaves the bathroom.

It seems pointless, to sit on the couch instead of the familiar embrace of his mattress but he knows it's important. He does not remember why. In his pocket is his cell phone. He takes it out, opens his notes app, and reads the titles of the memos.

schedule.txt

text file.txt

updates.txt

[][][][][][][] .jpg

readings.txt

Before he has a chance to tap one open a text arrives, vibrating the phone in his hand.

[][][][][][] now texted:

*hey.... you haven't checked in??? In a while?

* ??

*sans?

YOU texted:

* checkin in now

[][][][][][] now texted:

* that's a relief!

* what happened?? were you sleeping?

YOU texted:

* always

[][][][][][] now texted:

* what about the [][][][]???

* you have a JOB you know!

Sans backs out of the texting app and opens his notes again. The schedule file is the most opened file so he opens it.

check readings from basement

cross reference with lab notes

pack up miscellaneous tech

find [][][][][][]'s research

shutdown running experiments

start CORE cool down

shut down C[]RE

shutdown cooling infrastructure in snowdin

check readings from basement

turn off generator

lock the door

turn off the frame

return to [][][][][][][]

Taking a glance at his other files, he's already gotten the readings. He must have started the cooling process because the glitching on his phone has been getting worse. The ambient magic in the Underground must be unsettled.

YOU texted:

* everything's on track

* core is cooling down

[][][][][][] now texted:

* you never sent me the research data?

* or the COR[]'s operation files?

YOU texted:

* textfile.txt

* updates.txt

[][][][][][] now texted:

* oh!! perf!! thx

His cell phone shuts off.

It isn't out of battery but it has powered down. Sans doesn't go through the effort of turning it back on. He just stares at his face reflected in the small screen. He has a job to do.

In a smooth motion he tucks his phone into his inventory, and while he's there he sees a LEMON PASTA filling a slot. He eats it while opening the front door.

It's taste is indescribable. 

<---------new story--------->

Papyrus, the Great, packed his bags nearly the same moment the summons from House Dreemur was nailed to the postings outside of Grillby's Tavern. Close enough, at least, to be negligible in the sort of scale one might use if they were, for example, telling a story. His brother might use a different metric but Papyrus was not his brother and had always enjoyed stories more than calculations.

The summons asked for monsters competent in a specific area of skill: diplomacy. When Papyrus was younger, and his brother had moved them from the slums of New Home to the quaint, rustic town of Snowdin, Papyrus had dreamed of joining the royal guard. He'd wanted to be apart of something more than himself.

He'd been too young to join at first, and sometime between his brother leaving and his own coming of age, Papyrus had found himself helping the town's mayor complete her paperwork on time. He was a likeable sort, so the mayor warmed up to him quickly and often let Papyrus in on the workings behind doors. If Papyrus had wanted to be part of something more than himself, he found it in working as a minor governmental aide.

With his brother sending back a working wage each month and the mayor putting him on a stipend, Papyrus did quite well for himself. He even spearheaded several projects of his own: a recreational center that focused on youths, a communal garden, and young but fruitful forays into trade deals with the nomadic humans that wandered closeby.

It may have been through these humans that Papyrus first got the sense that something was stirring beyond the borders of his town. Humans always had a tendency to be skittish around monsters but Papyrus had seen these ones grow used to the Snowdin locals through trade and kindness shown. When they wandered in, weary and wary, Papyrus had known something was brewing.

He had offered a meal on him, ushered the nomadic family into Grillby's warmth and wheedled out threads of growing discontent in the human kingdom. Nothing said outright, of course, he doubted the humans actually knew what their news of unrest could mean. They were concerned only so much as traveling to certain cities was more dangerous or less lucrative. Papyrus did not have his brother's knack for theory but he was more than capable of putting together a puzzle.

Another impetus: his brother's monthly package home stopped arriving.

So, Papyrus was nearly finished packing when the summons was nailed to the posting outside of Grillby's Tavern. The summons merely gave him an excuse to extricate himself from Snowdin's warm embrace.

"Of course I will let him know, you have only been reminding me of my brother's tab for the last six years." Papyrus shook his head and tapped his foot against the warm wood floors of Grillby's seating room with impatience. The fire monster snapped and crackled from his place behind the impecable bar. Grillby beckoned him closer and he reluctantly approached the bartop.

Grillby pulled a neatly packed bag from beneath the bar somewhere and set it in front of Papyrus. It was moderately sized, made of well crafted oiled canvas. Papyrus lifted the flap and blinked at the contents.

"... it will keep," Grillby's intentions came through in the snapping of his embers as he pushed the bag of monster food closer to Papyrus.

Papyrus had already put away some travel food, serviceable rations that would carry him in the event he couldn't find, barter, or buy anything on the road. Grillby had packed him a small fortune of magic laden monster food: spiced bread rolls, cuts of delicate and robust vegetables, jars of ferments, pressed curd, even packets of dried herbs. All either monster made or magic infused, with indefinite stability. He could recognize contributions from almost every family in Snowdin, down to the unruly teens who hung out in the community garden.

"...and for... your brother..." Grillby slid over a paper wrapped package. Papyrus could tell without ever needing to open the thing that his brother's favorite order had been packed with care. The emotion overwhelmed him, for a moment.

"I will of be sure to scold him for enjoying the grease." He finally managed, and though Grillby did not have a face as most would see it, Papyrus knew he was smiling.

Papyrus laid his brother's meal into the bag Grillby had made and attached the whole thing to his pack with very little fanfare. That was not to say he escaped the town so easily. The streets were lined when he left Grillby's establishment and he graciously stopped at each family and friend who called him over for fairwells.

It was enough to fill a monster's soul to bursting. His neighbors and friends gathered to see him off. When he finally managed to leave the town proper and stood on an overlooking hill he turned to see the whole town gathered in the mainstreet. He waved one last time to the snowy little town he'd come to call home.

Now, it was time for his journey.

Of course Papyrus had been outside of Snowdin before. Not just the frantic rush between towns with his brother, but also to greet and see off his human merchants. He'd gone on one trip with the mayor to a lordling's hold as well, a lesson in etiquette and monster economics that Papyrus had to scrawl down in a journal the talking was so dense.

The thing that separated this journey from any other he'd been on was two-fold: it's length and his solitude. Only the move from New Home to Snowdin could match the length in distance, though he'd had his brother for that. Still, he was capable and not afraid as he entered the wilds beyond Snowdin's charming boundaries. The road through Snowdin had grown more traveled as Papyrus worked to welcome new trades with travelers, the Bunnies had been pleased with the uptick in business with their Inn, but it was still little more than a well worn wagon path through snow and forest.

Papyrus shouldered his pack and stepped on.

#i dont have a pun for writing #sans #sans undertale #papyrus #papyrus undertale #fic bits #theres #deaged papyrus #a haunted house au #and uhhhh idk strings of fate au #or like... middling fantasy au #w/e you want 2 call it #god i hope this posts i hate tumblr beta

[ficsjesslikes]

Tag masterlist - updated!

It's been a year since the last one and some new things have popped up so time for a refresh of the pinned post!

Pairing links (still not exhaustive):

George/Alex

Max/Daniel

Max/Charles

Fernando/Lance

Carlos/Lando

Lando/Oscar

Logan/Oscar

Pierre/Esteban

Seb/Mick

Seb/Lewis

Pierre/Charles

Charles/Carlos

Seb/Charles

I am a shameless multishipper who will read just about anything, so do try your luck with the search function for any other pairings or feel free to drop me an ask! Any gangbang-adjacent content is tagged character/multi.

Other tags currently in use are:

art - ship art

lists - other people’s rec lists/masterposts

fic bits - headcanons, snippets, fic ideas etc

bonus content - director’s commentaries and other additional bits of fic insight

Putting the common tags on this post for easy reference if the links break:

#george/alex #max/daniel #max/charles #fernando/lance #carlos/lando #lando/oscar #logan/oscar #pierre/esteban #seb/mick #seb/lewis #pierre/charles #charles/carlos #seb/charles #art #lists #fic bits #bonus content

[aces-to-apples]

Wait nope second try: hi! Hello! Can i ask for tedependent or royjamie with either: ❛ if you called just to get off on my voice, i’m hanging up. ❜ or “Touch me there. Right there.” :3c

He isn't serious when he answers Jamie's call with, "If you called just to get off on my voice, I'm hanging up."

This dumb thing between them is new and weird but also old news and completely normal and Roy won't explain it any better than that. Can't, because he has no fucking clue how to.

Season's over; Ted's fucked off back to America; Keeley won't take either of them back because they're so fucking annoying. And the worst part of all of that was thinking that the obnoxious prick he spent years hating is both his best fucking friend and his, fucking, bisexual awakening or whatever won't want to be either of those things anymore after their fight over Keeley. Except he did, he does, and now they're doing whatever it is they're doing, fucking about, and that's how Roy answers the fucking phone at one in the morning. Like a prick.

Predictably, Jamie whines. "I didn't even say nothing! You didn't even say hi!"

"Hi," Roy deadpans as the final minutes of Bake-Off continue to play quietly on his TV. "If you called just to—"

"You're such an arsehole, I don't know why I even called you," Jamie grouses, and there's a bang like a heavy door swinging shut underneath his words.

"Don't know why you called me either," Roy says. "Thought you went out with the lads. Gave you permission to drink for it and everything."

Jamie sighs. "Yeah, dead nice of you, that," he says. "I dunno. I just—missed you. You should come out with us, next time."

Clicking through to the next episode, Roy rolls his eyes. "I'm not going out drinking with you menaces for a whole night. I have things to do," he lies.

"Liar," Jamie says immediately. "Phoebe's with her mum and I'm not there, am I? So you ain't got shit to do."

"Well then maybe you should have stayed in with me so I'd have something to do," Roy fires back.

There's an odd silence after that that makes Roy wince. He opens his mouth to apologize.

"Yeah, no, that's," Jamie says, cutting him off. "That sounds way better. Let's do that next time. S'way more fun. Hey, can we have sex yet, please?"

"How much have you had to drink?"

Jamie hums. "Mmmmthree...? Maybe four. I don't know."

"Well then we're definitely not having sex tonight, are we?" Roy scoffs and, miracle of miracles, Jamie makes an agreeable noise. Neither of them are interested in discussing why they haven't had sex yet, it seems, which is nice. "Maybe next time."

"Yeah!" Jamie cheers, loud enough that Roy has to pull his phone away from his ear. Then, "Oi, my ride's here, I gotta go. See you tomorrow?"

"Fine," Roy sighs, as if he's not looking forward to it. "Not at 4 a.m."

"Pshh, obviously! Right, 'night, love!"

Roy misses the entire signature challenge of the new episode thinking about that.

#fic bits #answered asks #by apples #roymie #ted lasso #roy kent #jamie tartt #dead-cowboy #tl fic

[dandelion-wings]

Once upon a time @theabysscomeshome and I spun up a whole sci-fi AU for the Mondstadt characters, in which Kaeya is a particular alien species with 'cuckoo' abilities in which they can consume other species' genetic material and (partially) change shape to resemble them. And then @theabysscomeshome posited a particular scene that, for some reason, rose up from the back of my brain tonight when I wanted to write something short and cute. :>

---

Adelinde isn't a cook, but someone has to supervise the boys while they're in the kitchen. Especially when they're handling raw meat. Kaeya is quite good about the precautions necessary, but Diluc tends to be careless about washing up, either his hands or the surfaces, and Adelinde would rather be on hand with the saniwipes and a few gentle reminders now than have to deal with food poisoning later.

"I don't think that's going to be very good," Kaeya says, watching with fascinated interest as Diluc adds even more honey to the dish of expensive steak swimming in what Adelinde has to agree barely constitutes a marinade.

"It will be," Diluc says stubbornly. "Emile made chicken with all this stuff last week, and you liked it, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but I think he *measured* it. And that was chicken. This is... cow, right?"

"This is beef steak," Adelinde affirms. "Master Crepus is trying to order more variety for you, but none of the shipments have arrived yet."

Kaeya ducks his head. "He doesn't have to."

"If he can, why not let him?" Diluc asks. He sticks a knife into the steak and swirls it around impatiently in the marinade, frowning a little. "Maybe some of it will be stuff you can turn into. You can't turn into a cow, right?"

"They have too much mass. And quadruped body-plans aren't fun with tentacles. I don't have enough to hold myself steady if I split them four ways like that, and I have to stretch the space between them *really* far. It's like doing splits."

"Ow." Diluc grimaces.

So does Kaeya, and Adelinde smiles at how closely he mimics the expression. She doesn't know who might have contributed to the appearance he tends towards at home--a conventionally genemodded human, dark-skinned and blue-haired, much more slender and fineboned than the Ragnvindrs--but there's a slight similarity to them nonetheless. Something about the nose, and cheekbones, and temples. Had Master Crepus given him a bit of his blood, to bring him closer to the family? It's the sort of thing she could imagine him doing.

Turning back to his creation, Diluc frowns critically at the marinade--pinkish at the moment from the Gallian salt he'd added earlier, and darker now with the honey--and hops off his chair. "It needs more ginger," he tells Kaeya, turning to say it over his shoulder, and trips over the leg of the chair beside him.

He tumbles, instinctively flailing. Adelinde leaps just as instinctively to catch him. The knife slices deep into the meat of her palm.

She shrieks, fumbling for the knife as it slips free to fall towards the floor, not quite catching it as Diluc's weight slams into her. He yells too, surprise turning to alarm, scrambling up and trying to go for the knife himself. Kaeya ducks in and grabs it, tosses it clattering to the table.

"That looks like it hurts," he says, staring at Adelinde's hand with his one visible eye very wide, but otherwise looking entirely calm.

Diluc is panicking enough for the both of them. "Addie! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

"It's fine," Adelinde says, her voice unexpectedly calm to her own ears. She feels as if she's looking at the situation from some remove, the throbbing pain in her palm distant and faraway, everything at a remove as if she's underwater. "Go get a first aid kit, Diluc."

"I'm *sorry*," Diluc says again, miserably, and bolts out of the room.

Adelinde stares down at the cut on her palm a moment more, watching blood pulse from it, running down her wrist to soak her sleeve. It's quite deep, and that's quite a lot of blood. He'd been using the knife to poke the raw steaks, she remembers, and there were all those questionable foodstuffs in his mixture, so she'll need to clean it quite thoroughly, and then use a strong disinfectant. She takes a step towards the sink and feels herself sway.

"Here," Kaeya says, appearing at her elbow--her other elbow, conscientiously away from the blood. He pushes a clean towel into her uninjured hand. "Wrap it up."

"I need to wash it."

"There's enough blood to have flushed it out. Put the strongest grade of disinfectant in the kit on and you should be fine," Kaeya says, still very calm, with an expertise beyond his years. He reaches out, takes the towel back, and winds it quickly around her hand twice, twisting it tight. "There you are. Hold that in place."

"Thank you," Adelinde says, taking the ends where he's twisted them together.

"You should sit down," Kaeya adds, pushing her towards the chair Diluc had tripped over. "You look woozy."

"Thank you," Adelinde says again, as he pulls the chair out for her, and sits down.

Diluc is back moments later, banging into the doorframe as he rushes through, Master Crepus right on his heels. "I got the kit. Right here, Father, I cut her- it really was an accident!"

"You didn't cut me. It was my mistake."

"I was the one who tripped!"

"Now, now, let's not go assigning blame," Master Crepus says, gently, and pulls the other chair up, takes the kit from Diluc, and reaches for Adelinde's towel-wrapped hand. "You did well, Diluc. You and Kaeya go find the cook on duty and tell them we'll need this kitchen cleaned up, all right? They might need your help with it."

It's embarrassing to be fussed over by the master of the house himself, but he's clearly here to soothe Diluc, and Adelinde lets him unwrap her hand, setting the towel aside by the knife, and wipe it clean and apply disinfectant and liquid bandages in equal and excessive measure. By the time they're back with the night cook, she's all patched up, and Diluc is visibly calmed by seeing her so. Though the feeling of distance has eased, Adelinde is now absurdly tired for such a small affair; she can only smile, reassure him, and leave him and Kaeya to their father when she's kindly dismissed to go to bed. She leaves the clean-up behind for the boys to help with as a comforting penance.

It isn't until the next morning, when she wakes to her blood-soaked dress on the floor and guiltily takes it down to the laundry, that she thinks of that bloody towel again. It's sitting on the same shelf where she sets down her dress, for the human launderer to give personal attention. There's far less blood than she remembered when she set it aside, and the terrycloth is stiff and peaked, with little indents as if left by sharp teeth.

When she goes to collect the boys for their tutoring that morning, there's... *something* different about Kaeya's face. Very slightly. In the chin, she thinks. She doesn't ask, but when they pass a mirror in the hallway, she glances over to look at her own face in it. Then she looks down at him again, more clearly recognizing her own jawline.

"Thank you again for your help last night," she tells him.

He ducks his head again, mumbling at the floor, "I just wanted to help. Diluc was already getting the medkit. It would've been fine, probably, but you were in shock, so...."

Ah. Yes, that makes sense now. "I was, and I wouldn't have thought to sit down on my own, so you might have saved me from injuring myself further. I'm glad you were there."

"But...." He looks up at her sideways. "Diluc wouldn't have had the knife in the first place if he hadn't been trying to make something for me."

"I'm still glad you're here, Kaeya. We all care for you, you know." She smiles at him. "You're part of the family."

Straightening slowly, he smiles back, tentative and shy. There's a bit of her own smile in there now, along with a bit of Master Crepus' and Diluc's, along with whoever else he knew before he came here whom he loved enough to want to take on a little part of them. Adelinde is honored to be among them.

#fic bits #kaeya is a bundle of knives behind a smile #adelinde deserves a pay raise

[valkyrie-night-103]

for the ties that splinter

I’m sorry this took so long! Here you go, wonderful Anon! (the WIP nudge game is still my pinned post if anyone is interested)

Pairings: Matt Jackson/Kenny Omega, Poly!Elite, Background/Past Ibushi Kota/Kenny Omega

Rating: G (The full fic will be E, but there is no mention or reference to any topics that would warrant a higher rating)

WC: ~200 words

for the ties that splinter

“Why’d you leave?” He asks, very gently. He can hear the incredulity in Matt’s voice, that he just doesn’t understand how Kenny messed it all up. Kenny doesn’t get it either, to be honest. “You were happy.”

“Because I don’t know how to be happy.” He says, too honestly. “I always want more. More titles, more accolades… and it’s never enough. I don’t think it’ll ever be enough for me.”

“He could have come with you.” He says, like Kenny hadn’t thought of that. Like he hadn’t spent so many sleepless nights staring at Kota’s back, memorising every freckle and scar and wondering if he really could have it all.

“He wouldn’t have been happy here.” Kenny sighs.

“You’re not happy here.” Matt challenges, and Kenny knows he’s right.

“I love Kota.” He says, and his voice wavers. He swallows thickly, clears his throat to stop the burning of tears. “I also love you, Nick, and Adam. You’ve- you’ve all done so much for me, at my worst and my best. This- this was always for you guys. You called me so I came. God knows I owe it to you.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“I’m trying, Matty. I’m trying so hard, but it’s just-“ he coughs to cover sobs, but Matt isn’t stupid, not when it comes to knowing when Kenny is hurting. Somehow that makes him feel more hopeless than ever.

#for the ties that splinter #aew fic ask #aew ask game #fic ask game #wip nudge game #matt jackson #kenny omega #kota ibushi #ibushi kota #mattkenny #golden lovers #lovely anon #kenny omega my beloved #aew #all elite wrestling #fic bits

[canonical-transformation]

things I do not under any circumstances need: more AU ideas

things that my brain held me hostage until I typed up:

---

Nursery of Worldseed

"When there is nothing left to burn, the embers will turn cold. Only the inescapable long night will remain. The morning that follows, the springtime thaw: this is yours to steward. Love the world where I no longer can, ████; see it to fruition."

— Baba-Dekabrya, Tsaritsa of Everloving Peace, whispered to ██████ ████ ████████ days before the latter ███████ select █████ ██ ███████ ████ ████████

◆ Name: Innamorata

◆ Title: The Flower

◆ Nursery of Worldseed

◆ ???: Dendro

◆ Constellation: Ashvatta Diapausis

A rainstorm recently flooded a basement beneath Zapolyarny Palace. Among the many records lost was the contract drawn up between Her Majesty and her Sixth Harbinger. So badly was the contract damaged, it's impossible to tell whether it is centuries old or merely months. All that is left is an addendum, signed in blood, attesting that both parties were very satisfied by the deal.

Innamorata operates behind the scenes in Teyvat, pruning and shearing, nudging mortal innovation and inquiry away from topics that might draw unwanted attention from certain "people in high places".

Put no stock in the rumours that the Tsaritsa and the Flower are as close mother and daughter. To those who know Her Majesty — an unsmiling clown, a bard with aeons-ringed eyes — such an idea is risible. Her Majesty has long since had no love left to give. Any affection she shows the Sixth is a self-soothing denial of this truth.

Innamorata, too, is playing along with this harmless dream. Whatever she is missing, she knows it's gone for good.

Character Story 1

Those who compile dossiers on Fatui Harbingers may devote reams of paper to speculation on Damselette's heritage or Tartaglia's powers. Yet on the subject of Innamorata, there is little to say. Her name is added to intelligence briefings as an afterthought, a perfunctory inclusion.

This is not a sign of disrespect, nor to suggest that the Sixth is insignificant. There's simply not that much to say.

A joint report from Liyuean and Fontainian security services might read like this:

Title: Innamorata, 6th Fatui Harbinger

Aliases: The Flower, Il Fiora, ████, the Gardener of Sumeru, Bough Trimmer

Vision, Delusion, etc.: Nothing of note.

Age: Unknown, but appears of ordinary age.

Height: 0.1–100'

Weight: unknown

Physical description: Female human with unremarkable pinnae.

Skin tone: See previous.

Hair: Light coloured. Hue and colour distribution are unremarkable. Often worn up in a typical manner.

Eyes: Unremarkable.

Other notes (appearance): Eloquence and bearing unexceptional for someone of her age.

Known activities:

- Fatui counterintelligence, responsible for many of the Harbingers' security measures.

- Monitors various technological and research centres, including the Fontaine Research Institute, the Eight Trades, [...].

- Suspected of manipulation and sabotage of the above.

- Influencing foreign and domestic policy within Sumeru.

History: Recruited by the Fatui some time after the Cataclysm and some time before the first draft of this report was completed.

Allegiance: Like most Harbingers, her personal loyalty to the Fatui and Snezhnaya is ambiguous. Neutral attitude towards Fontaine, Inazuma, Liyue, Mondstadt, and Natlan. Not much else to say.

Motivation: Unremarkable.

Known capabilities: Unremarkable; however, unremarkable. Command of various elements unremarkable, and combined with her unremarkable intelligence, her theoretical power is potentially unremarkable. Rumours of omniscience are unsubstantiated and may be her own propoganda.

Known casualties: Nobody of note.

Known weaknesses: None.

Overall threat assessment: Inconclusive.

(with kudos to @dandelion-wings for the "meme" format)

(EDIT: The rest of this was published!)

#au: innamorata‚ nursery of worldseed #if not us‚ then who? #silly headcanons #“silly” #genshin impact #my writing #fic bits #i.e. if i write the rest I'll just post it as a fic :P #genshin ocs #.......kinda #the tsaritsa #undertagged #other characters to be tagged

[nari-writes]

I forgot that I have quite a bit of this, actually. I just chip away at it when I'm stuck at other things. The affectionate summary of: PR 2017 fic where I went ham on soulmates and demons and aliens and superheroes and autism all at the same time

---

"No," says Jason, and his face is somehow, in equal measure, completely blank and utterly horrified. "Why? That's not supposed to- when did it happen?"

"Found him in the hall ten minutes ago," Zack offers, but Jason's expression just flickers with annoyance.

"You're in so much shit right now," he says, "so how about you just shut it?"

"Make me," Zack says, and he's grinning, with so many teeth that Billy feels uncomfortable. It doesn't fit his mouth - or rather, it does, in the way that his face looks built for sharp grins, but in that his teeth are hurting Billy's eyes, like they're too perfect and yet somehow there's too many, too sharp, all at the same time.

That, and- he misses a lot. He knows he misses a lot. But there's a look in Zack's eyes, in his challenge, that's eager and hungry and wanting, fastened right on Jason. And it's probably the bond that's leaving Billy more in tune with what other people do, but maybe part of this is feedback from Jason. Feedback from Jason reading this stranger-friend better than Billy ever could, just on prescience of knowing who Zack is, what he's like, and- it's uncomfortable to know that Billy's soulmate has someone else in love with him.

"Stop that!" Jason snaps, fingers clenched into fists, and it's fascinating that Billy can feel Jason's fingernails in his own palms. "You're making him uncomfortable."

Zack's eyes flick to him. Billy tries to project I am so very chill and cool, please keep talking like I'm not here because this is all crazy and I'm invested in why you have an axe, rather than, my mom and dad were so in love that I grew up wanting it for myself and I thought my soulmate would know me, in all the ways I never knew I wanted to be known, except now it seems like he doesn't want to be near me at all and also it's weirding me out that you're in love with him because I don't want to get in the way of that.

He is not entirely sure he manages to succeed, because Zack frowns.

#pr2017 #fic bits #nari is writing #shoot what's the jason/zack/billy tag again? #whatever it's that but messy 🤭 #soulmate au!!! #it's actually a side-idea i did for one of the pr exchanges #didn't finish it in time but it lives rent free #im posting more fic snips 'cause i FEEL like it #trying to be more Me and encourage interaction on my blogs. idk. #anyway this is emotion sharing soulmates. and this is from aaaages - like 8k - into jt #but they're fun ❤️ #Billy's all stream of consciousness is this. which is wild. snd then Jason gets to swear #and im sorry but i didn't even Try and figure out zack. he just gets to be a Mystery #naw. part of his pov did appear but then i had to scrap it to. do what i Wanted narratively #im gonna steal it for a different fic #fic snips #snippets

[jon-snows-man-bun]

The dance brought them together like the tide, swirling between partners. Spun into his arms, she kept her smile polite but her eyes held a challenge for Eris. He rose to it gladly.

“I thought you would make me dream of you,” Eris murmured to Aisling. The silk of her dress was smooth against his palms, and just under it, the heat of her skin. He could feel the gentle furrows of her ribs, right there in his hands. “It was a lovely enchantment, but you were cruel to leave me alone in the dream.”

“I do not need my magic to make males dream of me,” she murmured back, and he worked hard to swallow his smile. “Your words belie your heart, my lord; if I did not appear, you did not wish it to be so.”

“Then it is only because you rule my every waking thought, and my heart longs for a reprieve from the torture of holding you in my mind’s eye but not in my arms,” Eris said lowly, chancing to let his nose skim the arch of her ear. She shivered, head tipping infinitesimally, and he knew he had her.

“If you do not become the High Lord you could become a poet,” she said, her breath ghosting over his neck before the dance broke them apart once more.

#fic bits #my writing #eris vanserra #aisling

[matariki-ascending]

digging through my fictional stuff folder is so much fun! have this bit to amuse you ~ inspired by The Hobbit's description of Bag End:

„You know, I think Bilbo is gay.“

Jasmine rolled her eyes as Braden spat his chocolate milkshake over the table and started coughing.

"Let me guess." She propped her chin on one hand and considered Jay. "Smokin hot Richard Armitage hugged cute little Martin Freeman, and your slashdar went haywire."

Jay gave her a surprised look. "Well, yes, but that's not what I meant!"

"Isn't it?"

"No! Braden, are you all right?"

Jasmine turned to look at her boyfriend, deeply sympathetic even though, by now, he should know Jay. Braden was bright red and still trying to stop coughing.

"Yeah, yeah, 'm fine," he wheezed.

Jasmine patted his shoulder and turned back to Jay. "Okay, I'll bite, why do you think Bilbo is gay?"

"It's in the books, Jazzy." Jay fluttered his hands in a characteristic Jay-motion and wrinkled his nose.

"The books."

"Yes. Tolkien himself wrote it!"

"What the heck are you talking about, man?" Braden had got his breathing under control and was staring across the table at Jay. "I mean, I know you … you guys see things differently, sometimes, see things that the straight guys don't, but what the fuck?"

Jay gave him a pitying look. Jasmine bit her lip. "His clothes, Braden."

"Huh?"

Jay caught Jasmine's questioning look and heaved a deep sigh. "Have none of you ever read the book? Heathens!" He glared at them before straightening, assuming his lecturing position. Jasmine smiled, feeling deep love for her beautiful friend. "It's all there!" Jay went on, stabbing his straw at them. Caramel ice-cream dripped onto the table. He didn't notice. "Bilbo's got whole rooms dedicated to clothes!"

Having made his point, he leant back and sucked his straw into his mouth, looking triumphantly from Jasmine to Braden. Jasmine grinned. Braden frowned.

"And, what? That's it? That's why you think that hobbit guy is gay?"

Jay gave him a deeply pitying look. "Braden, darling, how many clothes do you possess? Do they fill one wardrobe?"

"They definitely fill the floor of his bedroom," Jasmine muttered under her breath.

"Oi!" Braden elbowed her. "Yeah, well, I don't know, what with stuff in the laundry and, you know. Probably?"

"So, not more than one wardrobe?" Jay insisted.

"Heck, no, what do I need more clothes for?"

"Soooo." Jay stretched the vowel, brows raised, about to make his point. "Imagine a guy owning whole roomes dedicated to clothes. Does that strike you as describing a straight guy?"

"Not if they're all ironed and put away," Jasmine threw in.

Braden heaved a sigh, gave her a look, and turned to Jay. "Well, putting it like that … I dunno. How many clothes do you have?"

"Me?" Jay threw his long, red-golden braid over his shoulder. "Darling, I have entire rooms dedicated to clothes!"

Braden blinked.

"Bedroom, bathroom, laundry," Jasmine said, taking pity on him.

"More than one room. My point!"

Braden shook his head. "Jay, man, I love you like I'd love Jasmine's bro if he wasn't such an asshole, but you're crazy."

"You get used to it," Jasmine soothed.

"Yeah, but do I want to?" Braden gave her a grin and a quick look.

Jasmine smiled and leaned over to kiss him. "Yes, you do."

"I'll bow to your superiour wisdom."

Jay threw his napkin at them. "You guys are disgusting. Go and make out somewhere poor gay guys aren't tortured by straight-sex."

#the hobbit #fic bits #my writing

[minnesota-fats]

I was tagged by @lady-time-lord-

Copy the last sentence that you wrote in your latest WIP, and tag as many people as there are words:

Pulling out his phone he texted his children, warning all in attendance at the party to keep an eye out for a black haired girl wearing a too-long pink dress and red tennis shoes.

@ghost-strawberry @ghostdragonace @impyssadobsessions @camille-the-space-ghost @stormikitty @sassy-space-cadet @pineapple-coco @liminalhollow @eat-ass-smoke-grass-go-fast @stealingyourbones @ghostfiish @newdog14 @birthdaycactus @hidden-under-lock-and-key @rainybyday @im-totally-not-an-alien @alls-well-that-ends-well @p0ssym1lker @alotofwrongchoices @fighting-ghosts @borderlinebubbles @8bitfuture @ladyblargh @ghostboyconceps @tathartiel @skeleslime-phantom @shepherd0821 @meetingyourmaker @beepusboopus-blog @phandomfic @miss-cartoon

God that’s a lot more words than I thought….

#fun #:3 #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #bruce wayne #fic #fic bits #dp x dc crossover