#meta ficlet

[thetarttfuldickhead]

I often wonder about how and when the team learns about Roy and Jamie’s special training arrangement. In 3x04, Roy and Jamie are just getting started; in 3x05 they’re not keeping it a secret but who knows what they team is or isn’t picking up; in 3x06 everyone is obviously aware of their new and predictably unhinged deal.

There’s a lot of ways the revelation can play out and I’m in love with all of them, but my favourite version (tonight, at least) has one of the other players just stumbling on some candid posted on the site formerly known as Twitter a few days after Zava’s left for his avocado farm. Roy having Jamie pull his bike is a little too late for this grand reveal, but I crave that same level of insanity; say it’s Jamie doing push-ups in the middle of the Richmond Green with Roy standing next to him and keeping a foot on his back, or some such.

“Guys, have you seen this?” Sasha might ask, rushing into the dressing room with his phone held high.

They haven’t. They’re all suitably awed/astounded/alarmed.

“Did Jamie piss Roy off again?” Colin wonders aloud, leading to a smattering of yeah, must have and nah, Jamie’s been minding himself, hasn’t he? and says here the chick who posted it sees them every morning there’s more pictures look and the discussion runs loud and agitated with no clear consensus, and then Jamie walks in, and they immediately swarm him, like the fuck is going on here, bruv?

“Uh, yeah, Roy’s been coaching me, hasn’t he? Like, privately.” Jamie’s doing a fair job of playing it cool, like it’s no big deal, like it’s just a thing, no particular reason for it. It’s nice to be the focus of the team’s attention once more, but he suspects they wouldn’t be best impressed if they realised it’s all to make him better than Zava ever was. (Which is bullshit, really, because Zava’s a right knob, yeah, and he fucked them over too, like properly.)

“He can’t actually force you to do that shit, can he?” Jeff asks, his silly brow furrowed in concern, and he’s sounding just a little uncertain, because he knows that technically he’s right, but this is Roy they’re talking about and… who the fuck knows what Roy can or can’t do, really?

“Yeah, mate, you should talk to the gaffer,” someone else chimes in, and there’s nods and yeah, Ted’ll say something, right, he’ll sort Roy out and stop him from torturing Jamie further.

Jamie waves their concern away. “No, lads, listen, I want him to do it,” he tells them. “It’s to make me better, right?” It’s already working, too; he can feel it, his endurance building, his strenght growing. He’s better than he’s ever been, and he’s only getting started.

The team contemplates that for a few moments, in hushed silence. “Man,” Van Damme eventually offers, “you couldn’t pay me to do that shit.”

“Yeah, well,” Jamie says, with a wink and a smirk, “no one’s offering to pay you, mate.”

And that’s that, really. The teams murmurs and shrugs and moves on. Just Roy and Jamie doing Roy and Jamie stuff, innit?

(Roy steps into the coaches' office, and Beard looks up from his book. “What?” Roy asks, because he knows all of Beard’s completely blank faces, and knows this one for the pointed interest it is. “You and Jamie, huh”? Beard asks. “Yeah, well,” is all Roy says, but Beard nods because yeah, that makes perfect sense actually.)

#roy kent #jamie tartt #afc richmond #roy & jamie #a team of himbos #3x05 #meta ficlet #my stuff

[actual-changeling]

Aziraphale sees Crowley standing next to his their car and he hesitates; this is his last chance, the last possible moment to change his mind about leaving.

Do you think he feels the sunshine on his hands, against his stomach, and remembers how warm Crowley had been in his arms? How warm he had felt beneath his palms even through several layers of fabric?

How for the first time in his existence his body had felt complete, like there was no longer something— someone missing?

Do you think he sees him standing in the sun, all shining fire-red and hidden golden eyes, and regrets not sliding his hand to the back of his neck, up into his hair? Do you think he regrets not taking the chance to feel it silken soft and familiar between his fingers?

Do you think he remembers all the times they enjoyed a warm, sunny day together and the way the star seems to remember that Crowley had put its siblings into the sky? Do you think he remembers rays of sunlight caressing his cheekbones and wishes it had been his fingertips instead?

'Anything you need?' the Metatron asks him, and he is still looking at Crowley with the sun on his skin.

I need you, he thinks, and even though his eyes are hidden away, he knows Crowley is looking at him.

Do you think Aziraphale remembers the kiss, remembers the love he could taste on his tongue, the six millennia of do that, please, kiss me, the slow, painful minute of do that again, please, right now?

(The realization that he won't.)

He almost stays. Almost. But the Metatron is already walking away, and he looks at Crowley again, looks past sunset conversations and sunrise breakfasts and the heart-shaped star in Crowley's chest, and feels his pain.

(Their pain.)

Do you think that's why he leaves anyway? Not just because heaven needs fixing but because all that pain, all the hurt they caused each other, can't have been for nothing?

I can't leave him— no, I don't want to leave him.

No.

No, I want to go back to him.

Do you think he takes his anger and holds onto it until it burns his palm because it is easier to be angry at Crowley, at himself, than to think about everything they just took from each other? Everything they just lost?

Everything they could have been?

Aziraphale takes the memory of sunshine on his skin (Crowley's lips on his) and locks it away in a golden cage made out of faith; faith that Crowley will be there when he comes back.

Once he does (because he will, he will, he has to), there will be sunshine and warmth and Crowley, and they will finally be able to love each other with the sun and the whole universe as their witness.

No more shadows or shades of grey. Just the two of them in the light where they belong.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens kiss #aziraphale meta #fuck the metatron #idk what to call this flavour of post #character analysis and ficlet in one with some heartbreaking screenshots #see this is what happens when i watch the kiss scene frame by frame

[theminecraftbee]

man shifting intensely into tango mode has given me traffic!tango thoughts too. I think he resents his role in the story; I think he resents it because he sees himself as an afterthought. all of these people around him, they have stories people remember. not tango. tango’s the comic relief in the first act. tango’s the good guy who’s better for the poor canary than anyone else. tango’s the one who gets betrayed and is infuriated to represent the group collapsing, but that’s the last member of the team anyone thinks about once it does. tango’s—forgotten. he keeps getting forgotten. he keeps failing to make an impact at all. when’s it gonna be HIS turn to be the one the story’s about, huh? when’s it HIS turn to be something other than a side character? why does he always get subsumed into other narratives, huh?

do you think anyone remembers he was the first one to kill jimmy? he built a game, and it killed him. do you think anyone remembers?

of course not. that’s not the important part of that story.

it never is.

#tangotek #trafficblr #I have meta thoights here because I can’t figure out how to make this into a compelling ficlet #anyway. did YOU know that? #because that’s not a part of third life MOST people remember actually #because it’s not the important part of that narrative now is it. #tell me—can you tell me how tango died in third life or limited life? #tell me—did it matter? #anyway I think tango resents his part in that story. don’t you?

[crowleys-hips]

Touch Forbidden

another Crowley pov poem

i have never known how to be human i watch them, and i mimic  try to replicate their gestures, the way they breathe, move, speak, love my hands itch for touch forbidden  so instead i’ll bury my hands in soil grow a garden in barren land watch plants starve  for light they have never known as they inch closer, closer, closer to the sun i’ll light flames from my fingertips  and paint the whole sky  until time crashes and all my creations explode in supernovas  i’ll stroke piano keys no, pummel them until i or the instrument bleed i’ll drown the silence in the violence of grieving sonatas let the black and white between my fingers blur into shades of gray  as i try not to think of how your hands would feel interlaced with mine instead i’ll write you love letters you will never read until my hand cramps and breaks until i run out of ink or my veins are drained i’ll sink to the bottom of endless bottles of liquor until the image of you is a cloudy haze until i can’t feel my skin anymore crying out for the touch of yours i’ll render my hands useless as i grip the wheel of my car and try to outrun my thoughts bolting out at lightspeed  going interstellar and try to find a home hidden among dead planets that have never known warmth i’ll dig myself a hole there and become rootbound maybe then my soiled hands will forget your shape my skin will dissolve and cry no more for touch forbidden

tag list under the cut:

@wibbly-wobbly-blog @phantomram-b00 @crowleys-bentley-and-plants @charlotte-zophie @crowleys-curl @quoththemaiden @thewibblylever @genderqueer-hippie @lickthecowhappy @halcyonnnn @celestialcrowley

if anyone wants to be added/removed let me know

#xan writes stuff #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens s2 #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfics #good omens fic #good omens ficlet #good omens fics #good omens fanfiction #crowley #crowley good omens #good omens crowley #aziraphale #aziraphale good omens #good omens aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #ineffable partners #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #ineffable fandom #aziracrow #good omens meta #good omens fandom #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #air conditioning #poetry #demonic ramblings

[steddielations]

In the back of his mind, Steve honestly expected Eddie to snap at him for asking where he learned to hotwire.

There’s chaos all around, they’re in the middle of committing a crime, they’re on a time crunch. Steve shouldn’t have even followed Eddie up there. He should’ve been helping the others inside, staying out of the way, being useful and not pestering Eddie with questions.

If it were any other person, he would’ve been told off for it, but Eddie hadn’t so much as teased him when he made the vampire comment or when he didn’t know who Ozzy was (which surely had to be ten kinds of blasphemy to a metalhead like himself). In fact, he made a point to make sure Steve understood it was a compliment, didn’t take it away or undermine it, still told Steve he was metal.

So Steve wants to know more about the person he spent months blindly envying, who’s been nothing but full of surprises and compliments that he hands out too easily. He can’t understand this guy that walks funny, gets in his space, shamelessly stares, openly admits his jealousy, and tells him he’s a good dude after spending one day with him, something that people who have known Steve for years have never just flat out said.

So Steve seeks Eddie out, and asks him where he learned to hotwire, only realizing after that, “oh. I did it again, pulled another 'Steve' and asked a dumb question at the worst time.” He thinks there’s no way that Eddie’s gonna be cool about it now. He wouldn’t blame Eddie if he finally snaps at him. Hell, if the roles were switched, he definitely would’ve snapped at Eddie.

But Eddie surprises him again. He tells Steve the most casually honest answer, almost too honest given the situation they’re in. He’s working fast and under stress, can’t afford to miss any steps, and he still answers Steve’s question without teasing or belittling, or even so much as a hint of annoyance or condescending tone.

No, he’s smiling as he tells Steve about his criminal father that he never wanted to be like, chuckling at the irony and absolute tragedy of his situation, like he’s eager to answer more of Steve’s questions.

Then Eddie takes it a step further. He hotwires the van and turns it over to Steve for the best part. He calls him “big boy” with a smirk that makes his head spin in a new, almost intoxicating way that feels addictive after only one hit. Eddie says he knows Steve’s got it when he’s only ever seen Steve drive a tiny BMW.

That’s what stumped Steve the most. Eddie had the utmost confidence that he wouldn’t wreck this van carrying people they both care about, hopped right out of the way and just put it all in Steve’s hands. Steve even has to reassure himself “it’s just a car, it’s just a car,” and it’s one of those things that he does because he has to.

Eddie trusted him to drive this house on wheels for some reason, Steve both admires and envies how he’s too generous with his trust and his compliments and his smiles. Mostly, Steve doesn’t want to let him down, so he doesn’t.

Steve thinks he understands then. Eddie’s just a good dude too. He’s been keeping a brave face for Dustin’s sake, agreeing to go into “Mordor” for him, joking with the girls and trying to keep up with them, jumping after Steve and saying there’s no thanks needed, brushes it off when Steve tries to tell him he’s not a coward and he should be easier on himself.

Steve should’ve tried harder to convince Eddie. Even in the worst situation where Eddie has every right to be pissed off at the world and everyone in it, he’s still trying to be kind and laugh and say shit like “that was fun” after jumping through a hellhole.

Steve doesn’t know anyone like that. He doesn’t know anyone other than Eddie Munson that would smile at the end of the world. There’s nothing more brave, more badass than that.

He’s going to try to tell Eddie again, Steve decides, he’s going to convince him this time. When he gets the chance, he’s gonna tell Eddie that he’s good too, he’s already good, he's been good to Dustin, to Steve, and he’s still good to everyone when he has no reason to be and he has nothing to prove.

Steve’s going to make sure Eddie knows that, as soon as he gets the chance.

#say it after me: eddie values steve #steddie #mp #steddie ficlet #rueswriting #steddie fic #my fics #st meta #eddie munson #steddie headcanons #steve harrington #character analysis #eddie x steve #steveddie

[draculas-curse]

Meta Knight loves to fight.

If there is one thing that he cannot go without, could never go without, then it is the rush of combat. The adrenaline that pours through him like a tidal wave, the fervour with which he swings his blade, it is everything; his crew, his Halberd, his duty and his homeland, in truth they all pale in importance next to the thrill of a relentless battle frenzy.

This is something that, even through shining glass, through beams of refracted light, through the crystal clear reflection of a gold-trimmed and glittering mirror, is left unfiltered. Dark Meta Knight loves to fight, because Meta Knight loves to fight. He knows this and he can accept this. It is sensible. A reflection must be accurate to the original visage, no? And if not in appearance, scarred and battered instead of immaculate and glowing, then at least in spirit there should be a perfect core that remains.

Dark Meta Knight likes to draw.

He sits in the sunlight, bathing in the warmth of his armour, surrounded by tentative allies sent for by the stars, and clutches a crayon in one fist. His dexterity is not quite as incredible with an implement of the arts as it is with an implement of violence. This does not matter, because when he scrawls across the paper, with too-tight grip and too-harsh force, the wonky lines he manages do not garner him any jeering. Instead, the fairy oohs and aahs over how passionately he's recreated his sword, and politely, the little artist advises him on how to put less strain on both himself and the crayon the next time he tries. Dark Meta Knight does not mind imperfections, really.

Meta Knight does not like to draw. He avoids picking up a pen or pencil whenever possible, and when he is forced to, he makes the experience quick. If Dark Meta Knight is so bold as to assume why, and he is, this is because Meta Knight is not good at drawing. Of course, neither is he. Not by a professional metric. Flawless swordsmen, but terrible illustrators. The reflection is accurate once again. However, Meta Knight cannot bear imperfections. He is always on a quest of improvement, and avoids that which he is not undefeated in. If his armour breaks, is marked, if he loses a chip off his pauldron or mask, he repairs it with the utmost haste.

Perhaps a reflection is similar, but not exact. Sometimes the mirror is smudged, or cracked. Sometimes it reflects backwards or sideways. Sometimes water will ripple across the clear lake. Dark Meta Knight can and has defeated Meta Knight. If he were truly a complete, perfect reflection, they would be too evenly matched for a victor. There are a million little other flaws. Meta Knight likes the idea of fairness, Dark Meta Knight doesn't bother with it. Meta Knight is perhaps slightly more upstanding than he, less inclined to villainy; though only slightly, Dark Meta Knight thinks, remembering through a cloudy lens how the Halberd once sank into the orange sea. In the end, the dark knight couldn't care much less. He is glad when the next time he sketches out the image of his weapon, the edges are a little more clean.

Meta Knight probably wishes for a true, unfiltered reflection, with no idiosyncrasies of its own. Dark Meta Knight doesn't see why he should seethe over minor details that get lost where the light misses crevices in the glass. Then again, he might just be spiteful because Dark Meta Knight trapped him in the shards of that very same mirror to see what it would be like on the other side of it. That would be a bit fairer, and Meta Knight likes to be fair.

But Meta Knight really, really loves to fight, more than anything else.

Dark Meta Knight puts the crayon down for now, nods when his fellows wave him goodbye, and turns to meet the yellow gaze burning holes into his back, brandishing his silver sword. Dark Meta Knight also really, really loves to fight, more than he likes to draw.

For the record, even if he won't go mad over it, Dark Meta Knight also still very much likes to win.

#kirby ficlet #kirby series #dark meta knight #meta knight #its 4 am :D

[haphazardlyannotated]

Thinking about how Rose first found out she had healing tears.

Because the only way she could have found out is if a gem she cared about was cracked in front of her, right?

So imagine Rose after a fight, holding an injured, glitching Pearl, wondering if all of her pearls are doomed to meet a horrible fate because of her, and oh stars, this time is even worse, Pearl is actually about to die in Rose's arms, and there's nothing, nothing she can do to fix it.

Pearl meanwhile trying to reassure her, even as she slowly loses control over her own mind and body.

Rose crying, desperately wishing she'd done something, anything differently, so she wouldn't be here with another dying pearl.

And then a miracle happens.

Suddenly, Pearl has control over her body again, and when she reaches up, she finds that her gem is whole and undamaged, like it was never cracked in the first place.

Pearl immediately shrugs off the shock of almost dying in favour of praising Rose. Of course Rose would be able to heal her, she's perfect and wonderful and nothing bad could ever happen to Pearl as long as she's by her side!

Rose on the other hand is absolutely shaken.

First of all by a lightyear, she almost lost Pearl forever just now.

But also, she apparently has healing powers?

Rose has spent the last two thousand years defining herself by what she did to her first pearl, wanting to change while also being convinced that she's an inherently violent, horrible person, who will only ever hurt people.

But now, here on Earth, she's looking at the living (living!) proof that she can change and has done so already, so completely that Pearl, her Pearl, thinks that the power to heal, not hurt people is perfectly natural for Rose to have.

On that day, Rose promises herself that this pearl will only ever know her as the loving, nurturing person she believes Rose to be.

Rose turns her back on Pink Diamond and never looks back.

#su #steven universe #su rose quartz #su pearl #pearlrose #meta #ficlet #i return from my visit at my parents' to deliver you farm fresh pearlrose angst

[hells-plaid-angel]

They’re on a hunt when it happens. It’s something so innocuous Cas doesn’t think about the action until they’re driving home. They’d pursued their monster-of-the-week and run into another hunter who claimed they were an old friend of John Winchester. 

It took too long for them to realise the hunter was the one behind the killings, acting as a go-between, doing some dirty work for Hell. They found themselves cornered in the man’s yard, trapped and backed into a corner with a not-so-friendly looking hunting dog standing between them, and the high fence, their only exit. Cas’ grace was failing, so he was unsure if he could get himself and the Winchester brothers out of the mess unscathed. 

Cas knew many things about Dean Winchester, he knew he wasn’t cruel for the sake of cruelty but he also knew any man with a gun in his hand, who found themselves backed into a corner would be tempted to fire. It wasn’t often Dean surprised Cas, but that day he did. He held his hands out in front of himself, open-palmed and moved slowly to greet the animal. Its pinned ears and raised haunches kept Dean several arms lengths away, but they stood facing each other until the animal calmed.  When it did, Dean touched the creature softly and ushered both Cas and Sam out. By the look on Sam’s face, Cas understood he’d also been surprised Dean’s plan had worked. 

It isn’t until they’ve caught the hunter and driven back to the bunker and Sam had retired to his room that Cas decided to broach the subject. 

“How did you know the dog wouldn’t attack you?” 

“Call it a hunch,” Dean replied trying to minimise whatever had occurred, letting Cas know he was touching on something important. 

Something Dean didn’t want to talk about, was usually the exact thing he needed to talk about. Cas isn’t sure how he manages it, but after a few prolonged glances and a long stretch of silence, Dean speaks. 

“It’s a hunting dog, Cas. Course it’s going to attack you if it’s been told to. I know they’re dangerous, I ain’t stupid. But you sit with the thing for a while, show it you can trust it,  and maybe it starts to get iffy. Thing doesn’t like to fight, it just does what it’s told. You pet it and confuse the hell out of it. Hunters want the things to be tough, so they never touch ‘em gently. Think it’ll make ‘em soft.” Cas understands.  Dean is the dog. 

Cas wonders if he’s ever been touched gently. He decides it’s his job to make sure Dean is. 

He spots a few scratches and bruises littering Dean’s body from the aftermath of the hunt and pulls him into the kitchen, trying to get a better look at him. He reaches out a hand to heal Dean but the man shrugs him off, making an excuse about not wanting Cas to waste his grace. That won’t do. Cas needs to show Dean that people can be gentle with him.

That’s how the two end up knee to knee at their unconventional version of a dining room table, with Cas helping to cradle a packet of frozen peas to Dean’s face. Cas tentatively strokes a thumb over the underside of Dean’s eyes, along his cheekbones. No one taught Cas how to be gentle, so he’s unsure if he’s doing it right, but from Dean’s stunned silence he thinks perhaps he is.

In the following days, Cas grabs every opportunity he can to touch Dean softly. He shocks Dean speechless as midway through a conversation Cas moves forward and gently brushes a strand of hair to the side, that had fallen into Dean’s eyes. When he needs to move past Dean he places a soft but firm hand in the middle of his back. He even throws a blanket over Dean’s shoulders on a partially cold morning. 

When he begins to run out of ways to be gentle he finds another, one that even Cas knows is toeing the line of things he can get away with. 

“Night, sunshine. I’m hitting the hay,” Dean grumbles, rising from his seat beside Cas in his ‘Dean Cave’ as the movie they were watching comes to a close. 

Cas stands with him before he can talk himself out of it and cautiously, places a kiss to Dean’s cheek. He lets it linger before pulling and mumbles, 

“Goodnight, Dean.” 

Dean doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything. He raises a hand to his cheek, as though to capture the heat of Cas’ lips and stares at him with wide-eyed amazement. And once more Cas sees the same look of frozen and confused horror as the dog. So it was true. Dean wasn’t used to being treated with such fondness. Cas would have to change that. 

#I've had a brain worm the past few days #so I'm sharing it with you #destiel #deancas #spn #supernatural #destiel ficlet #destiel drabble #dean winchester #bisexual dean winchester #dean studies #cas #castiel #dean meta #let 'em be soft damn it #spn meta #destiel fluff

[youchangedmedestiel]

#destiel #deancas #castiel #dean winchester #I'm curious #what type of destiel content do you prefer? #destiel meta #destiel study #destiel analysis #destiel crack #destiel meme #destiel thoughts #destiel ramblings #destiel fanfiction #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #destiel ficlet #destiel fanart #destiel gifs #destiel edit #video edit #some of those #everything about destiel #I hope I didn't forget anything #I also want to know what you prefer depending on if you watched the show or not #but unfortunately it's not possible to do that on the same poll #my random thoughts about destiel

[crumbleclub]

Michael Afton's desperate desire to be saved never really went away.

It started when he was small. He didn't even know what he was missing– he didn't have the context for that– but the aching hole in his chest that grew with every moment of normal, necessary nurturing he was denied hurt, and he wanted it to go away.

As he got older, he understood bits of it. He wanted to be hugged and asked about his day like Charlie was; he wanted someone to ask what was wrong when he cried like he saw on TV. He wanted his dad to look happy to see him.

When Evan was born, even as Michael was steadily growing to dislike being touched, he was jealous of how often the baby was held. He knew it was stupid; he knew babies needed to be held, but something about it still hurt. He imagined what it might feel like to be picked up, since it never happened anymore.

He was only six years old.

As Michael got older, and things at home got scarier, his mindset shifted. He stopped wanting things to change, and instead wanted someone to take him away.

He daydreamed about being rescued. He daydreamed about being stranded on a faraway island, and whoever lived there taking him in as one of their own. He daydreamed about some tragedy befalling his father, and of being taken in by someone else.

That last one made him feel guilty.

His dreams settled in that state. The theme persisted throughout his life.

They sometimes twisted after the Bite. Sometimes, he'd imagine that his rescuers would hurt him; punish him for what he'd done. He'd turn on the news to see another disappearance, and some part of him hoped that he would be next.

At its core, though, all he wanted was to be taken away; taken out of that house that was empty and cold and filled with broken glass.

He grew up, he moved out.

His daydreams remained the same.

In his apartment, he'd sit and imagine someone coming in the night to take him away from his dad's house.

In the security office– as he watched the clock and locked Bonnie out for a third time– he imagined someone waiting for him outside, asking why he'd been out so late and offering to drive him home.

(He'd save them. Nobody could save him, but he could save them.)

(They could have saved him. Countless people could have saved him.)

(Nobody wanted to.)

With the scooper staring him in the face, he humored the idea of someone barging in and demanding to know why he would do something so reckless, so stupid.

They'd pull him out of the way.

They'd take him home.

They'd wipe the blood off his chin and tell him that everything was going to be okay.

When he opened the pizzeria, Mike pretended that Henry's recordings were just that: somebody saving him. Henry had sometimes been the face in his dreams, but it had hurt too much to imagine other times. After all, Henry had never believed him.

Did he believe him now?

And, as the office burned, he turned his head to the doorway. Smoke filled his lungs, and, if he squinted just right, maybe, maybe he'd see someone show up to save him.

Nobody ever did.

#this was. just gonna be a short post but. #things got out of hand #michael afton #fnaf #mike's stuff #this is a normal thing to write at 3 am on a weekday right #mike's actual writing #cw abuse #cw neglect #character meta #kinda? #character study #also kinda #fnaf ficlet #ficlet #idk if this is canon to blips or not yet #literally was just gonna be a headcanon post lol

[freeuselandonorris]

☰ for Monday, with the “who did this to you” trope? Love your fics <33

(from the fic ask game)

HI ANON i am so sorry this has taken me a million years to answer, i started weirdly overthinking it??

my understanding of the ‘who did this to you?’ trope is it’s very hurt/comfort-centric, which is not a genre i write very often (hence probably why i overthought this for so long lmao).

if i was to approach a remix of monday from this angle i think i’d like to do it from lando POV and explore more of why he’s so insecure and why it takes him so long to trust that oscar genuinely really likes him and isn’t just looking for a quick fuck to take the edge off. there’d be more of a focus on lando’s past relationships and in particular how he went from being a slightly nerdy kid (like, he looked twelve until he was about twenty) to suddenly being a millionaire heartthrob with a huge social media following. but he also self-describes as a simp (in the lando norris vs slang video) and clearly wants to be in a “real” relationship rather than just fucking about, so i’d look at what happened to him to make him so cautious with his heart.

proooobably this would end up with past dando or carlando? i have a mild aversion to carlos so i’d probably go for fuckboy daniel ngl.

i think it’d take oscar quite a long time to actually get round to asking lando what happened — partly because he’s got a bit of an attitude of “well, lando will tell me in his own time if it’s important to him” but also because there’s a bit of him that doesn’t really want to know, especially because he’s got a pretty good idea it involves another driver. he’d probably bring it up pretty idly, in the end — lando would make some veiled comment about how netflix would have creamed their collective pants if they’d known the half of it while oscar’s scrolling past DTS trying to find something to watch, and oscar would very casually… actually, y’know what.

Lando feels Oscar go still next to him and mentally kicks himself. Might’ve known Oscar wouldn’t let that one drop.

“So are you, like.” Oscar wets his lips and shifts on the bed, curling up so Lando’s tucked further into his chest. Lando presses himself back, drawing Oscar’s arm around him. “I dunno. Did something happen? With Dan.”

Lando closes his eyes, considers his options. It’s tempting to squirm back against Oscar’s body, press his arse into his crotch and slip Oscar’s hand under the hem of his T-shirt until he forgets the line of questioning, forgets he was saying anything at all. It’s mad, really, the way he responds: Lando only has to pull his shirt up, bite his lip a certain way, and he’ll have Oscar distracted and reaching for him, even now. It’s been months. Lando’s experienced it before, that first flush of desire when he can use his body to control how someone feels about him. It rarely lasts, though, once the novelty wears off.

Which is sort of the point.

He sighs, aware it sounds a bit huffy, and picks up his phone so he can flick through his notifications while he speaks. “I mean, I guess? It was just stupid, though.”

Oscar breathes behind him, slow and deliberate. He hums into Lando’s hair, strokes a thumb over the ticklish spot on Lando’s waist, the dip just above the ridge of muscle that delineates his hip.

Lando swipes through notifs from Discord, Instagram, iMessage, WhatsApp, Reddit, Sky Sport. Dismissing each without seeing it. He laughs, and it comes out all wrong, harsh in the back of his throat and defensive. God. Wet as fuck. “It was just — I mean, he was fucking miserable, you saw him. So I guess he just wanted a pick-me-up, y’know.”

“Right,” Oscar says, voice unreadable. He’s so fucking blank sometimes. Lando fights the urge to turn round and scrutinise his face, opens his emails instead and starts deleting anything that doesn’t look vital.

“He said,” Lando says, aiming to deliver it as a joke. “‘I’m straight, but I bet you suck dick like a girl anyway’. Like. What does that even mean?”

Oscar’s thumb stills, just for a moment, then resumes its slow path. “I know that’s offensive, but I can’t tell if it’s sexist or homophobic or both.”

Lando makes a disgruntled sound of agreement. “Yeah, well, whatever. It was — whatever. Wasn’t anything.”

“You said,” Oscar says mildly. “But I can see why you’d… Why it’d make you cautious.”

Lando sighs. Thinks of Luisa, showing him screenshots, her face streaked with tears. Watching the comments roll in, badly spelled threats he didn’t even bother reporting. The way Carlos never quite relaxed around him once people started tagging them in stupid ship videos. Googling how do you make someone sign an nda locked in an unfamiliar bathroom, mouth sour with vodka, head spinning. Waking up at 5am in lockdown, Max hyperventilating next to him. The girl from Raya he’d sent flowers to, trying to do the thing properly and be romantic, only to find she’d blocked him ten minutes after he got the Your package was successfully delivered email.

“It wasn’t him,” Lando says, locking his phone and putting it face down on the nightstand. He turns, tangling his legs between Oscar’s and leaning in to nip at his jaw, breathing in the familiar smell of Oscar’s basic aftershave. Oscar's arms tighten around him. His cheeks curve into a smile beneath Lando's mouth. “It doesn’t matter.”

#hopefully this baby ficlet makes up for my tardiness in replying! #think it's unblocked me after a few days of feeling frustrated with writing so hooray for that #apologies to dan i needed a villain #mctwinks #fic meta #answered #mondayverse #prompt fill

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Like Phil, I’d like to think that Jamie and Keeley still go to Brazil, in spite of the boys’ recent fuck-up, but I’d also like to think that Roy comes with them. Not because Jamie and Keeley can’t be friend on their own or wouldn’t have the best time doing Brazil together – they would! – but because I think Jamie might be conscious, given everything that’s gone down recently, of potentially upsetting what he currently perceives as a rather delicate balance.   

Maybe he brings it up a few days later before they head over to Keeley’s for a joint apology, or maybe it happens already at the holy kebab place, once they’ve had a few bites and a chance to settle back into their normal; a little worse for wear, but with no lasting harm done.

And Jamie fiddles with his sleeves and makes little faces as he tries to decide what to say (and Roy notices and waits with some trepidation) and in the end he just comes right out and says it, because that’s what Jamie does, isn’t it?

“I asked Keeley to go to Brazil with me, for that Nike thing I’m doing.”

Roy blinks. He hadn’t known Jamie was doing a Nike thing. Jamie might have told him, but Roy usually stops listening whenever he starts blathering on about brands and clothes and shit, so yeah, if told he hadn’t heard.

“What did she say?” he asks after a slightly too long and awkward moment of Jamie looking up at him, almost through his fucking eyelashes, trying to gauge his reaction.

“She said yes.” And hastily, as if worried what Roy might say or do if given a moment to, he adds: “I didn’t do it to try to get back together or anything. I mean, I do wanna get back together and she’s my friend and I love her and I thought we’d have a great time, yeah, but also, she’s great at PR and all that stuff, so. Yeah. That’s why I asked her to come. Make sure I don’t fuck it up.”

And because you want her to be your girlfriend. Roy doesn’t say it, though. Neither of them want a repeat of what went down at the bar. This isn’t Jamie trying to goad him or hurt him, he’s pretty fucking sure of that, so he’ll listen carefully to everything Jamie has to say, and then he’ll react like a fucking grown-up.

Probably. Possibly.

“Anyway, I think you should, like, come with us.”

Fucking what now? “What?”

“You should come with me and Keeley to Brazil.” Jamie is nodding his head decisively, as if repeating the statement has fully convinced him of its veracity.

“You want me to come with you and Keeley to fucking Brazil?” Roy is aware of sounding like a demented parrot, but he doesn’t give a fuck, does he, because he doesn’t want there to be any fucking room for misinterpretation here.

Jamie doesn’t seem particularly concerned about Roy’s tone. Too used to it, probably. “Um, yeah. Yeah. I mean, probably can’t get Nike to pay for it, right, but you’re rich, so you can just get your own ticket and you can stay with me and Keeley in this villa they’ll set us up in. Can’t mind that.”

Which all sounds very reasonable, of course, but still doesn’t answer the most pressing question:  “Why?”

Jamie makes a face. “What do you mean, why? Because I don’t want shit to be weird between us, mate. And I think it’d be weird if Keeley and I went away and you stayed here after what happened, you know. Besides,” he adds, and suddenly he looks slightly shy; younger than he actually is, and vulnerable, “It’d probably be fun, yeah? All three of us going, together. Because we’re friends and all.”

And there’s something sharp and jagged turning in Roy’s gut at that, because underneath Jamie’s claim there’s a note of uncertainty that Roy had no trouble whatsoever guessing the origin of, and he adds it to the long list of things he hates himself for.

He doesn’t know how to express any of that, so what he says is, “Yeah. I guess. I’ll think about it.”

Jamie’s grin is immediate and wide; relieved and triumphant in equal measure, like he’s already won – like he already knows for a fact that Roy’s going to say yes.

Roy can’t even find it in him to mind that the little prick is right.

And then they all go to Brazil and I’m currently thinking that nothing further really happened between them there, because apparently they all need to do a little more thinking and feeling and figuring themselves out, but I’m sure they still had a grand, grand time of it.

#just want to be very clear that i absolutely think that jamie and keeley could and should do things on their own #as should keeley and roy #and roy and jamie #no matter what form their future relationship takes #i just think that RIGHT NOW jamie might be conscious of things getting weirdly skewed if him and keeleys goes off on their own #and he very much wants to get back with keeley but he's not ready to sacrifiece his relationship with roy for it #so FOR NOW it's a little bit of a balancing act #jamie tartt #roy kent #roy & jamie #roy/keeley/jamie #roy x jamie x keeley #ficlet #ish #i am trying to write a serious meta about the bar fight AND answer some asks but i keep getting distracted #whoops innit

[speedforce-zoomies]

“Can I ask you a question?”

Janet turned to face her semi-regular visitor, an alternative version of her son, and boy, wasn’t that a sentence?

“Different from the ones I’ve been asking, I mean?”

“Oh course, birdie.”

It had been rather awkward for the both of them the first time Janet had instinctively used a pet name that she used for her own Tim, one that his Mother had also used for him.

He had blinked away tears so quickly that if she hadn’t known all versions of her son so dearly she would have thought she had imagined it.

From that point on she made sure to only call him Tim or Birdie, a pet based off his hero identity, (and it still took the breath out of her lungs to think about any version of her baby fighting criminals with nothing but a belt full of tools and a metal staff. Her fear for him was not at all canceled out by her pride). The name deemed safe since her own Tim was a civilian.

Though, even “Tim” got confusing sometimes when trying to differentiate between her son and the son of dead version of herself.

She had asked if it would perhaps be better to call him Jackson and he had frowned at the suggestion, suggesting Alvin or Carl as alternatives instead with a sudden, sly smirk and a snicker when he saw her expression.

He smiled at her now, a soft, gentle thing, that spoke of comfort but his eyes were sad.

“Do you think…” he paused, “Do you think, if things were reversed between our worlds and you had passed, sorry, this is, uh, um a pretty heavy question...”

Tim trailed off, eyes glued to the bare white wall across from him and Janet walked over and sat beside him, not touching, just silently offering support.

“It’s okay, it’s obviously burdening you, let me carry some of the weight. What’s on your mind, Birdie?”

“If it were you that had die-passed, and your Tim had access to trans-dimensional travel, would it… would it make you sad or hurt your feelings if your Tim was to visit my mom?”

Janet paused, thinking it over.

Tim didn’t look at her, allowing her to consider her words carefully.

“A little bit, I think. Not hurt, but sad, because of course my preference would be to be a part of his life. However, even if it would make me a little sad, it would mean the world to me that another Janet was able to open up her arms to my son, that he had found a way to ease his pain, even if just a little bit.”

He smiled at her and it was watery.

“You know, when I come to visit, I take the information you give me and I go though my Mama’s stuff, almost like I’m gathering clues here and putting the pieces together there.”

He paused, trying and failing to not fidget.

“I had no idea, about the Emily Dickinson poem, until you told me and then I went home and she had used that poem in a couple of her poems and social media posts.”

He leaned in to her space.

“It’s nice, getting to learn about her, even now that she’s gone… I appreciate you, you giving me the chance to do so.”

Janet gently bumped shoulders with him, “Of course, Birdie.”

“It also kind of feels weird,” he confessed, “to investigate my own mom like this.”

Janet hummed, and took a chance, “Well, you are two anthropologists’ son, investigating the dead is kind of in your blood.”

Tim choked out a laugh, “Yeah,” he huffed out, voice low and rough but still amused, “guess you’re right.”

He leaned back against the sofa, “She’d love that, I think, being an anthropological revelation.”

“I’d be flattered, certainly.”

Tim snickered at that.

“Do you think your Tim is gonna be an anthologist. Like you and his dad?”

Janet hummed, “Maybe. He enjoys coming out to digs on holidays and summer vacations. But he also enjoys his photography and he keeps making jokes, that I’m not entirely sure are actually jokes about becoming a professional skateboarder.”

Tim snorted in amusement, “Well, I’m rooting for him if he goes for it.”

Janet grinned. “I will too, if that’s his passion in life, though I will expect him to have a backup plan, of course.”

“Of course.” Tim agreed.

“Anything but vigilante!” She shook his shoulder gently, “I already have one of those to worry about!”

He laughed, and he didn’t sound like her own Tim when he laughed.

He sounded like her, or well, she thought, another version of me.

——

I wrote a lot of words just to say I’m not over Batman (2016) #134 & I never will be ^.^

#janet drake #tim drake #I want more of their relationship #I wish we got more flashbacks of tim & janet #or references of janet #janet & tim #tim & janet #robin #robin tim #robin iii #jack drake #batman 134 #dc comics #au #janet drake meta #ficlet #dc ficlet

[crowleys-hips]

Binary Stars

hi have a ficlet with some Crowley angst 🔥 (art by @alwaystuesday )

i wish i could stop the searing ache that throbs through my veins with every breath i take. but when i undress and expose my pain, let my shaking hands disrobe all pretense as the light grazes my nude frame in full, plain sight for everyone to see, the world calls it beautiful. they ogle wantonly, licking their lips at the sight of my wounds like i'm a fine, rare delicacy to be ravished. a freshly sacrificed lamb ready for a feast.

i might as well be.

i spilled my guts in the sky, and my ichor became stars. and when i cry, new constellations form as my tears crystallize in the ether of a cold, uncaring universe that has never bothered to know its own children.

so can you blame me for hoping that if i just bleed enough, new star systems will bloom in the nebulae of your eyes and you'll finally be able to see me?

not for the explosions of light that leave everyone blind, but for the excruciating mass of agony and unbearable softness corrupted, collapsing under their own gravity.

could you feel the force of our collision?

would the crash shake your core and transform you like it does to me?

when you dance with me, can you feel a new world forming between our mingling breaths, one that is just for us to share?

or is the dust and gas all around us too dense for your eyes to make out the body of mass gravitating around you?

or worst of all

do i burn too bright? is the touch of my lips scalding? should i dim myself small to be bearable? would you want to fuse with me then? even if i must lose pieces of myself, so i can at last live in the glow of your veins, and never have to know the frigid loneliness of space again, forever ensconced in the shelter of your warmth

would you take me then?

hello?

is anyone there?

angel?

...it's too late. it's always too late.

tag list:

@wibbly-wobbly-blog @phantomram-b00 @crowleys-bentley-and-plants @charlotte-zophie @feiandart @crowleys-curl @quoththemaiden @thewibblylever @genderqueer-hippie @lickthecowhappy @halcyonnnn

i made this list at random based on people who've liked my stuff in the past. if you wanna be added/removed please let me know

#xan writes stuff #im gonna fucking throw up #don't look at me #but actually #please look at me #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens s2 #good omens fic #good omens ficlet #good omens fanfics #good omens fanfic #good omens fics #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic recs #good omens meta #crowley #crowley good omens #good omens crowley #good omens fanart #good omens art #aziraphale #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #ineffable lovers #ineffable partners #ineffable divorce #final fifteen #demonic ramblings

[kimbapisnotsushi]

it's the fact that kageyama apologized to hinata for that very last toss during the interhigh match with seijoh. the fact that it wasn't the first last toss kageyama probably wanted to apologize for. the fact that whatever kageyama wanted to say both times was denied, rejected, cut off, shoved back down his throat without mercy, without kindness and consideration — they won't let him look back and linger, they won't let him regret, they won't let him bear the burden of being the one at fault if it means he thinks trusting them was a mistake.

and so kageyama swears to make a toss he won't have to say sorry for, he swears to make a toss fitting of his position as a setter, a toss that shows how much he's grown and how much he's learned and how much he trusts and loves his team, and then battle of the garbage heap happens and the lights are bright and sweat soaks his skin and each breath comes hard and fast and stabs his chest like a knife with every rise and fall but finally — finally, he thinks — the opening is right there, a sun breaking through the clouds, a moment of clarity he cannot possibly miss, so he raises his hands —

— and hinata jumps with a sonic boom that makes the ground shake, or maybe it's just kageyama's heart seeing a promise fulfilled, and kageyama, for all the things he had to carry and for all the things others carried for him, knows that he will never apologize for having faith ever again.

#OKAY GOOD NIGHT IT IS TWO IN THE MORNING I PLANNED TO NOT STAY UP THIS LATE AT ALL #kageyama tobio #hinata shouyou #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu meta #sou says stuff #sou writes stuff #haikyuu ficlet

[thestupidhelmet]

A3

AU T7S where Jackie Doesn't Exist on the Show

Season 1

Donna and Eric's transition from friendship to romance takes longer, giving Hyde more opportunities to interfere with the process. Eric grows more insecure that Donna might have romantic feelings for Hyde, not him, so he starts to back off. Donna takes this behavior as a sign that Eric wants to stay just friends.

Donna, however, makes clear to Hyde she only wants to be friends with him, and he finally gets the message when she dates David Milbank.

Hyde and Eric bond over their unrequited feelings for the same girl.

Kelso "dates" Pam Macy, who isn't at all monogamous. Still, Kelso loses his virginity to her at Prom. His Apollo Rocket of Love explodes on the launch pad, and Pam Macy tells everyone at school. Kelso can't get a date at Point Place high afterward. He's ridiculed by boys and girls alike, and he considers changing schools.

Fez is largely unaffected. He finds a different girl to fixate on, one who isn't in a relationship.

Season 2

David Milbank reveals his true interest in Donna is sex, not her thoughts or writing. She dumps him before they've gotten past first base.

Upset, Donna seeks comfort in Eric, who confesses that he's always liked Donna's thoughts. "In fact, I've always liked ... you."

Donna is shocked, happy, and pissed she didn't know this fact earlier. She asks Eric why he acted like he wasn't into her romantically. He says he thought she liked Hyde that way. "Hyde?" she says. "No, Hyde liked me. I liked you."

"You did?" Eric says. "I still do," Donna says, and they begin their romantic relationship.

Laurie, bored, has sex with Kelso in his van. But since he's not in a relationship, it's a one-time occurrence. Unfortunately, it adds fuel to Kelso's obsession with her. With his reputation at school in the toilet, he pursues Laurie to the point of stalking.

Laurie seeks help from Red, who not only threatens Kelso in the garage but also bans him from the house.

With all that's gone wrong in Kelso's life, he grows increasingly depressed. All his friends try to help, and the truth of Kelso's age comes out. He's eighteen.

Hyde suggests Kelso drop out of school, like most of Hyde's cousins did, and get a job. Donna says Kelso should get his G.E.D. at least. She, Eric, and Fez help him study for it and ultimately get his high school degree.

Living at the Formans' house has helped Hyde emotionally, but his nurturing instinct isn't being nurtured. He becomes more closed off and distant, despite giving support to Donna, Eric, and Fez when they need it.

Season 3

Donna and Eric have trouble navigating their misunderstandings without Jackie's advice and perspective. Hyde is helpful but not enough to make up for Jackie's absence. The resentments build up on both sides, and Donna and Eric break up under different circumstances than they do in "Promise Ring". Instead, they believe they're incompatible as a romantic couple.

Kelso enlists at the police academy after being pulled over for speeding. He believes becoming a cop because will negate his reputation for being a bad lover.

Fez's life is less stressful without chasing after someone (Jackie) who isn't interested in him romantically.

Hyde grows increasingly cynical after his dad (Bud) uses him to pay rent.

Season 4

Donna never dates Casey Kelso because Jackie isn't there to set them up. Donna and Eric date a string of people who they don't truly connect with.

Donna, though, grieving her mother's absence, leans on Hyde far more than she did on the show. Secretly, they start a sexual relationship. For Donna, it's a coping mechanism. For Hyde, it's much more. But Donna eventually connects to the emptiness she feels, and what follows is the grief she's been avoiding.

Hyde, without the insight of Jackie, resents Donna for using him and breaking his heart -- even though deep down he believed Donna hadn't suddenly fallen in love with him. He pushes past his own pain, however, and helps Donna and Eric reconcile.

Fez and Rhonda's relationship thrives without Casey's influence and Donna-influenced-by-Casey's confirmation of Casey's perspective.

Kelso sets fire to the Point Place Police Academy on Flare Day and is transferred to Kenosha.

Season 5

Eric and Donna work on their communication issues, among other difficulties.

Hyde moves out of the Formans' house once he turns eighteen, despite Red's reassurance and reasoning. After what went down with Donna, Hyde wants to run get away from the reminders of what he never really had. He leaves Point Place, and everyone is upset about it -- especially Kitty.

Fez and Rhonda consummate their relationship.

To honor Hyde, Eric, Donna, Kelso, and Fez spray paint his name on the water tower. But Eric, through Fez, learns Donna and Hyde were sleeping together last year. Fez says, "I'm happy you can put aside your anger at Hyde and do this for him." Eric says, "Anger? What anger?" Fez says, "Wow, you are even more secure than I thought! If Hyde had slept with my Rhonda, I would kill him."

This revelation tarts a fight between Eric and Donna. Fez and Kelso try to intervene, but Fez gets shoved off the water tower.

At the hospital, Fez's immigration status is discovered. Rhonda marries him so that he can stay in the U.S. and because she loves him.

Eric breaks up with Donna, feeling betrayed by both the fact she slept with Hyde and kept it a secret. He leaves Point Place after graduation to search for Hyde.

Season 6

Kelso and Brooke have sex at the Molly Hatchet concert, and Brooke becomes pregnant as a result.

Eric finds Hyde in Milwaukee. Hyde had gotten seriously hurt at his car mechanic job and needed a kidney transplant. Through this, his true paternity is discovered. W.B. is a match and gives Hyde a kidney.

Hyde's built a new life for himself with his newly discovered family. Eric confronts him about Donna, and Hyde explains the depression and terror and grief Donna was in after her mother left and she and Eric had broken up. "Think about it, man," Hyde says. "Under what other freakin' circumstances would Donna have sex with me? She was miserable."

With his new understanding and empathy, Eric forgives Hyde. Hyde both kept Donna from hurting herself with risk-taking behavior and helped her and Eric reconcile. Eric also lets go of any sense of betrayal he feels toward Hyde and Donna both.

Eric returns to Point Place and apologizes sincerely to Donna (and tells her he found Hyde, etc.) Donna apologizes, too. Not for sleeping with Hyde because better him than a stranger who could have hurt her, although she understands why her being with Eric's best friend hurt Eric. She's sorry for not being truthful with Eric and depriving him of the chance to make choices about their relationship based on the whole truth.

Eric and Donna reconcile, again, before going to college together.

Only Fez, Rhonda, and the Formans are left to help Kelso handle the fact he impregnated Brooke. Kelso, having learned of Hyde's whereabouts, drives to him in Milwaukee -- taking a leave of absence from the police academy.

Hyde sets Kelso to rights. W.B. also steps in, sharing how he wished he'd known he had a son, his grief at missing out on Hyde's upbringing, and sorrow for the trauma Hyde experienced at Bud and Edna's awful parenting.

This week with Hyde and his family convinced Kelso to be in his kid's life and prove to Brooke he's worth of it.

In the series finale, Betsy is born. Kelso holds her in the hospital room while Brooke looks on, tired but happy. Red and Kitty reunite with Hyde in Milwaukee. Fez and Rhonda decide to go to culinary school together so they can one day own a bakery. Eric proposes to Donna while they sit on the Vista Cruiser's hood.

Jukebox Ask Game

#that 70s show #that '70s show #jackie burkhart #eric x donna #michael kelso #steven hyde #fez #ask game #jukebox ask game #my meta #my essay #meta #essay #ficlet