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noxposting · 4 months

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Another year, another @phandomholidaytruce ✨

Merry crisler @datawyrms ! Hope you like it!! It's also on AO3 with an extra chapter

Something's Wrong with Danny Fenton

The realization that something was seriously wrong was like falling asleep; slowly, and then all at once.

There had been no catalyst, no trigger to speak of.

Miss Jones had been sick and, this late into the school year, they hadn't bothered to provide a replacement. Most of the class hadn't even bothered showing up anyway; with finals so close, they were either asleep of studying.

Cal would have done the same, was it not for the absolute chaos at home. The twins were off school for the summer already, and they made sure to make their presence known to every single resident of the house. Usually starting at 6am. Cal didn't feel like he got to choose whether to stay home or not.

This is how he found himself here, sitting in a mostly empty classroom, gaze unfocused as he soaked in the rare moments of quiet. In front of him lay an opened biology book, as he lied to himself that he was going to use this time to revise ahead of exams. Instead, the sketch of a duck wearing sunglasses was guiltily staring at him from the page margins.

His gaze had wandered to the window, towards the school-yard of Casper High. Today was a rather rare sunny day; it was early summer, but even during the heart of the hottest season there was a never-ending, persistent chill that seemed to choke the entirety of Amity Park.

Cal, of course, knew exactly where it was coming from.

It was a little bit difficult to live around here and not know about the ghosts.

He pushed his glasses up his nose nervously. He didn't have any particular strong feelings about ghosts, really. He had gotten used to them, in a way. But, truth be told, he was not a fan of the spine-chilling coldness that seeped through everything in their presence and lingered after they were gone. The way the town seemed never to be able to escape this coldness anymore bothered him, but there was not much to do other than suck it up.

Which was why rare days like today were a pleasant, welcome surprise to the locals. He could see his classmates lounging around in the grass outside, soaking up the sunlight like starving sunflowers, and it brought a warm feeling in his chest. Cal was always more of a people watcher, standing in the side and absorbing situations rather than getting involved.

He tried to ignore the tense feeling in his spine that made the hair at the back of his neck stand.

Also, he was studying. He looked down at his book and a second duck that had joined the first and was silently judging him, this time wearing a dapper top hat and a little bow-tie.

There was no haunting chill in this classroom. Right. He didn't want to go out and miss the time to relax.

His let his gaze passively wander around the room. There were only four others in there with him, all in different states of mental non-existence. Eleanor and Sally-Anne were sat opposite each other, heads close over the desk as they gossiped, their whispers providing a subtle background noise through the quiet room. Jonathan (the one with the glasses, not the one in the football team) was focused on the book in front of him and Danny, at the back of the class, looked to have fully dissociated, eyes glazed over. Now wasn't that relatable.

Cal sighed. Suddenly the chair felt a bit stiff, his shoulders a bit tense, so he pulled his arms behind his back in a big stretch. He couldn't help the groan that left his lips as he felt his joints pop. Grabbing the back of his chair, he twisted around -first the right side, then the left- to relieve the tension.

The tension, as if to spite him, stayed.

He got up, cringing at the scraping sound his chair made as it slid back, and he could see on the edge of his vision that his movement had caught the attention of the two girls. When he didn't say anything, they returned to their conversation.

Cal went around his desk towards the window and looked outside, once again marveling at the sunshine and trying to ignore the goosebumps travelling down his arms. He did briefly debate the merits of joining the rest of the glass out in the grass once more, but the peace of the quiet classroom was too tempting for his foggy brain. Still, he didn't feel like sitting in a chair for the next forty minutes. Looking around, he spotted a few unattended markers on the teacher's desk, and paused, a thought forming in his mind.

His fingers were itching with misplaced adrenaline, and he figured what the hell.

Pointedly not allowing any awkward embarrassment to brew, he approached the desk, grabbed the black and green markers and approached the blank class whiteboard.

Cal had always liked to draw. His mom said it's because his hands can't sit still (but she liked it, really, especially when he made her custom-made mother's day cards every year). The twins had no opinion about it, until his sister got her first celebrity crush and begged him to draw the poor guy with cat ears.

No ducks with accessories this time.

She later posted it online with a humble brag about how she had 'finished it really quickly, what do you guys think' but, considering she had barely hit double digits in age, Cal had let it pass.

The validation of elementary kids was not in his radar, exactly.

He never followed any particular theme -his illustrations were usually random, without much thought. He liked letting his mind and hand take him wherever, and that often led to either randomness or, as was often the case for his bigger, more planned illustrations, a lot of inspiration from his environment.

Was it a surprise that he had produced so many drawings of ghosts?

As Cal was suddenly, once again, very aware of the subtle chill (not quite a presence, but it existed and it came from somewhere), he figured that one more addition to his ghost collection wouldn't make any difference.

Even if he wasn't used to drawing on a whiteboard, he still felt the long, controlled strokes of the marker come naturally. His preferred style was either completely colorless (which had absolutely nothing to do with his tendency to draw during class, thank you very much) or with minimal color; he knew how to manage negative space to his liking.

He had to admit, the subject he had chosen was pretty perfect for the whiteboard; all high contrast black and whites.

Getting lost in the process was easy for Cal; applying long strokes across the board and thick filling to the black outfit allowed time and tension to pass him by, almost. The hair would be tricky; making sure the black marker was used faintly enough to translate the light, luminous color was a mission, and Cal was nothing if not a perfectionist when it came to his work. All aspects to a drawing needed to come together for a good result, after all.

But for this, the most important part was the eyes.

Cal tightened his grip around the green marker. There could be only one color on this drawing, and it had to be the eyes. Sadly, a green whiteboard marker would never be quite the toxic green that he would have liked, but it was the principle that counted.

As he placed the last detail on the hair, fade enough to be as close to the bright white of the real thing, he uncapped the green marker. There was a sense of gravitas in the movement, the start of the final step to this work.

Or maybe Cal was just pretentious about it, who's to say.

"Wow, Cal, you're so good!"

The sudden voice made Cal jump and, even worse, almost draw a green line straight through the board and the almost finished drawing. He turned around to realize that everyone in the room was staring at him.

Maybe he should've thought this would happen, but he felt the heat on his cheeks rise nonetheless.

It was Sally-Anne who had spoken, turned around on her seat where she was facing Eleanor. Both were smiling. A few desks ahead, Jonathan had abandoned his reading and instead was looking at Cal with interest, head resting on his hand.

Cal avoided all their eyes, fidgeting with the green marker instead "Um, thanks. Just a hobby, no big deal."

Sally-Anne raised her eyebrows. "Are you joking? This is amazing! It's like, the best Phantom art I've ever seen!"

Cal blushed even harder. "You're exaggerating, but thanks."

Eleanor gasped "Oh my God, no one better erase this! Quick, I need a picture!" she swiftly pulled out her phone and paused. "Hey Cal, can you like, put a signature somewhere on that? I need to take a pic."

Cal breathed out, muttering 'no problem' and obliged.

A stutter sound came from Eleanor's phone "Awesome! I'll send it to you if you want!"

Cal refused and Eleanor shrugged, sending it to Sally-Anne instead.

Soon everyone went back to what they were previously doing and Cal was happy to be ignored. Walking over to the teacher's desk to put the markers back (and maybe look for an eraser, if Eleanor and Sally-Anne didn't kill him first), he was suddenly aware of that ever-present yet so distant chill and his head snapped up towards the room.

At that moment, he locked eyes with Danny Fenton, and Cal froze.

It was impossible to pinpoint what was wrong exactly, which made things worse. Danny Fenton looked as he usually did; tired, bruised, head resting against his hand and unruly hair falling in his face. Yet there was something just wrong. His pallor was pale, unnervingly so, the bluing bruise against his cheek and graze on his lip contrasting dramatically against his skin. But his gaze was so sharp that Cal was sure that Danny could see right though his skin and into his brain.

It happened slowly, and then all at once.

Worst of all, Cal now knew where that ever so familiar chill came from, and he was almost shocked he didn't recognize it before. The aura of the dead was practically oozing off Danny Fenton.

Time felt like it was slowing down as Cal was locked in by those eyes, a shade of blue so cold it was painful and, for the first time, Cal realized that he was seeing Danny Fenton.

Cal wasn't sure how long he was trapped under that gaze. It felt like eons, but it couldn't have been more than seconds. As he felt his brain melt under the realization that something was frighteningly wrong with one of the people he knew, something happened that shocked him out of his spiraling.

Danny smiled. The faintest, most tired lift of lips, yet it was enough to transform the aura of wrong and that trapping stare, like deciding to let free an animal that was going to become dinner.

Just like that, with a movement so simple, the chill was passive again. Cal smiled back.

Feeling like he was floating, Cal went back to his desk. He took a seat as the bell rang and his classmates soon started filtering in, all of them taking a moment to show various levels of awe towards his drawing.

Throughout it all, Cal kept his head tilted and one eye, watching Danny's reaction. To anyone else, he looked like he had just woken up from a nap, groggy and unfocused. But Cal now knew better. He had realized the wrongness, and knew there was more hidden behind these icy eyes.

He didn't know what, he didn't know how. He didn't know when it had started, or why, but there was one thing Cal was sure of.

There was something very wrong with Danny Fenton.

#I'm not a fic writer so I hope this was ok asdfghjkl #anyway #merry crisis #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp art #danny phantom art #phart #phanart #danny phantom fanfiction #cryptid danny #outsider pov #danny fenton is creepy #phandom christmas truce 2023 #Christmas #Fanfiction #Fic gift #Phandom #phantom

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mairaiscarrierofthepaperclips · 7 months

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Would anyone like me to write a Buddie Flufftober fic for them? I'm planning on doing all the prompts (lawd) and would be chuffed to gift some to people. 🥰

-- Maira

#flufftober 2023 #flufftober #911 buddie #buddie fic #buddie #writing #ao3 #writers of ao3 #Fic gift #Gifting fic #so i write buddie fanfiction #a03 fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #eddie x buck #911 fox

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barmadumet · 8 months

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I am under the weather today. I had just sat down with this hot cup of tea when I got an email notification:

This is going to be the best cup of tea ever, as it will be enjoyed while reading this story by @wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart

Wibz, I can’t tell you what this means to me! 😭 No one has ever gifted me a work before 🥹

Read with me, friends!

#obikin #fic rec #fic gift #obikin friends are the best friends in the galaxy #I love you wibz #🧡

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raspberry-radiation · 1 year

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@rosabell14! I'm your secret santa for the ML Gift Exchange! Merry Christmas and I hope you like it! Thank you @mlsecretsanta for hosting this every year :D

I really like the theory that Adrien is a sentimonster and kind of ran wild, with that said, I present "Erasure"

Ladybug wasn’t sure how it happened. Had she been betrayed? Had someone changed the timeline? Had she somehow messed up using the miraculous and had a sort of cosmic backlash in response? That was the only way that she could explain what was happening before her.

All of her dear friends were strewn around the ruins of Paris around her. The city was deserted, as any ghost town would be – save for the massive akumas that ravaged the wreckage. There, stepping through the defeated teens and picking the miraculous off their tired forms was a familiar black clawed hand. One that the superhero remembers as fondly holding roses and brushing her cheek. The other hand was familiarly enveloped in the dark destructive magic of the cataclysm – a threat to what happens to those who don’t stay still.

Why...

Why was HE working with that monstrous man? Sure, there were secrets that Chat never told her, she had only just a few days ago been told he was Adrien – one of her dearest friends. She watched as he brought their friends’... and her miraculous up to the suited and decorated man before her. Despite the well-known and hated disguise, he seemed to be easily able to control the hero like... a ...oh no… like a controlled sentimonster…

He turned and looked back at the unmasked heroine with pained and desperate eyes, yet his face remained stoic and unmoved. Hawkmoth, Shadowmoth, Gabriel Agreste stood above them all from the top of the stairs at the museum entrance. The building behind him had long been destroyed but it seemed to fit his dramatic heart for needing to have higher ground.

Ladybug watched as he turned a thick ring on his left hand and she turned at the sound of weak coughing beside her.

“Ladybug, I’m so sorry I failed.” It was Mister Agreste’s former assistant Nathalie. “I tried to get Adrien away. I tried to protect him.” She was weak from the illness from the miraculous and her robotics were damaged to the point she couldn’t move from her spot beside the young girl. Nathalie could only mournfully watch the shadowy individuals in front of her, remembering the not-so-distant conflict she had with the madman who had taken back the control instrument from her.

Her hand and finger throbbed painfully at the recollection of the way that he had grabbed it and yanked the ring off without care. Her finger was surely, at the very least, sprained with the color and swelling of it.

“Don’t be upset, Miss Nathalie. We will find a way to get him back.” Marinette said to the older woman, not breaking eye contact with her partner. Not seeing the twitch of his hand either.

“But how? Gabriel had everything! He has all of the miraculous! Even the Rabbit from the future’s miraculous too!” This panicking reveal almost broke Marinette’s concentration but she cannot be weak now, she has to help Adrien. She wasn’t sure why she was so sure she could make a difference but she knew he could. He just needed the strength.

The gloved hand of Chat Noir rolled the miraculous in his palm, feeling the metal and the magic within his fingers and the hero couldn’t even swallow against his nerves.

“Now Adrien. Give me the miraculous!” Gabriel holds his hand out, waiting as his son turned over his hand and dropped them in before laughing madly. He slowly put on the miraculous, his smug glee evident at the appearance of each Kwami in front of him.

The one Kwami that he did not see was oddly the most important one, a little red ladybug. He... did not get the earrings. Adrien did not give him all of the miraculous. Gabriel’s eyes slid to the side in fury, ready to strike the servile creation when he saw that the young man was staring at him, earrings in his lobes and a grim expression on his face.

“You never said to give them all...father.” He threw his hand towards the concrete step below his father and the destructive magic raced through the stone and ate away at it until all that was left was ash. Once the magic left his hand, the young hero called out “Tikki, Plagg, Unify!” The red light sparked around the earrings before strips of black flashed inside, mixing into a dark purple. This seemed to protect the hero from falling because when his magic ate away the steps below him, he didn’t fall. Instead, he stayed in place, standing proud on the air as a new freedom raced through him with the powers of two kwami combining.

The cat features and leather were replaced by a shimmering, moving image of what Adrien could only assume was the deepest part of the night sky. Purple trailed in strips between golden marking around his limbs and across his chest. His mask didn’t seem too different through the eyes of the one looking through it, but when he turned to Gabriel, the man seemed terrified.

Adrien lifted his arm and so did his father, confusion was momentary when it was explained by the control device lifting off of his father’s finger and the older man grappled for the flying item in panic. He wasn’t able to catch the flying ring and instead fell back into the ash of the destroyed stairs.

All of this chaos and destruction for what? He looked to his side. Past his friends and classmates, past his cousin, to the two blue haired women that meant so much to him. The motherly figure that cared for him when his father did not and to the girl that he loved with the very fiber of his being.

Both of them had dirt, scratches and bruises all over their faces and bodies and it saddened Adrien more than angered him to see what his own father would do to reach his goal. Turning back to his father, Adrien sighed before speaking. His own voice seemed to echo on its own, hearing himself before and after his words came out.

“Father. You created and destroyed as much as you pleased for the supposed goal of bringing back my mother. You have ruined countless lives and everyone’s homes for an unattainable goal. What is gone is gone, it cannot be brought back.” He pauses momentarily to look at Marinette again.

The kwagatama around her neck was usually red, but it pulsed with purple light. Seeing the glowing stone made Adrien resolute in his decision. He continued.

“You will not stop your destructive journey, even if it is to your own self destruction. Because of your actions, you have caused an unnatural imbalance in the world and brought creatures of unnatural creation into existence for ill gain and sacrifice. This imbalance has to be restored. With this in mind.” He turned, so that the last thing he would see was Marinette’s face.

Her solid, trusting gaze on him had changed to a panicked and distressed expression as she struggles to her feet and tries to run towards him. Adrien smiles and wishes aloud, “I wish everything was better and that Gabriel never needed the miraculous in the first place.” With this – much like the miracle cure of the ladybug magic, small swarms of bugs similar to ladybug’s swarmed down from his feet to across the surface of the earth and filled the surface behind them with a bright purple light.

Within the expanding spread of purple, black and white cracks appeared and raced towards the edge of the spreading magic. As the world was being affected by the magic, it was being destroyed as well. How was this better? Marinette panicked, more for the loss of her friend and love of her life more so than the remnants of the town around her. She stumbled and nearly fell through one of the cracks – now expanded into a massive crevice and watched the world around her crumble.

Looking to the others, she saw that their silhouettes too were covered by the magic and cracking as the land below them. Why was she unaffected? The kwagatama around her neck seemed to throb in response to her internal question.

The effect of the magic seemed to take place as she watched thin lines of pinkish light seem to rebuild the structure of the buildings around her before flooding with solid forms. Marinette was terrified as the purple magic flashed and shook everything around her and the forms of her friends and Nathalie seemed to sink into the ground and color slowly seemed to surface.

Marinette herself got jerked around by thin cords of purple that wrapped around her wrists and legs and body like lose strands of hair. It draped and covered her like a blanket and she wanted to scream. She was tensing up to do so when she saw that the skin peaking from underneath the magic was free from dirt and grime and bruises and every sign of what she had just endured. She checked her ears but was saddened to not feel the familiar studs return to her ear lobes.

The magic seemed to push the ground beneath her feet and it felt as if she was walking through the heliotropic void as the strands slowly fell off of her, becoming leaves flying through an unfelt wind or fading into the sides of buildings and reforming trees or cars.

The color was becoming distinguishable from the background and Marinette was sitting before she realized it. She... was in her classroom? The purple faded completely from the environment and she looked around. Where the room was once empty, when she now looked, her dear friends were there in their seats laughing and talking as the teacher in the front of the class was preparing for an announcement. No sign of remembering what they just experienced.

Marinette felt like she was ghosting. Was everything normal? Were they back to square one and her and Adrien having to start from the beginning again? Did all that really happen? She looked below her and the seat was empty... no sign of anyone even being there and Nino was even stretched out with his feet sideways on the chair where Adrien would have sat.

Marinette felt sick. Could she really expect herself to act as if all this was normal and with Tikki and Adrien gone?

“Okay class, attention.” Madame Bustier spoke clearly, voice silencing the others without effort. “We have a new student with us today.”

With a sideways gesture to the door, a familiar sweep of blond hair stepped into the room with familiar green eyes underneath.

“This is Adrien Agreste. He’s been sick for quite a while and only recently got better, so he needs our help in getting used to class life. Let’s all be nice to each other!” Madame Bustier directed him to sit in the front chair, Nino dropped his feet with a friendly greeting and Marinette could only stare in disbelief at the approaching teen.

How was Adrien alive? If he was here, what was the sacrifice? Wasn’t he a sentimonster? What was happening? Would Hawkmoth return? Would she ever get Tikki back? What was going to happen now? Her racing thoughts all stopped when he started to look around as he walked, seeming as surprised and unsure as Marinette felt.

The blond boy – who she thought she’d never see again – glanced up to her and a shocked expression flooded his face and he started blushing heavily under her crystal blue gaze.

Marinette was shocked at the studs in his ears, clearly, but the most surprising part was that he was alive. She felt her own cheeks flush pink as she wanted to cry tears of joy. None of those questions mattered any more.

#mlsecretsanta #ml secret santa #secret santa #secret santa 2022 #mlss2k22 #fic gift #fic #miraculous ladybug #sentimonster #no spoilers

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majorshiraharu · 1 year

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Holiday Secret - Din/Paz

Holiday secret trip on a snowy planet, a Din (Mando) / Paz fluff fanfic gift. My gift for @omaano as part of the @starwarsfandomfests holiday fest <3 thank you so much for doing these, I’m always happy to be a part of it, happy holidays and new year!

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Paz had taken Din on a much-needed vacation to take his mind off all the recent stress that had been consuming his mind day to day. Din was only told this was about a mission, Paz knowing all too well that Din would find a trip for a vacation a waste of his time with everything going on, but Paz knew him best and knew he needed to relax. They landed on the planet, fluffy flakes of snow falling outside the ship, slowly sticking to the hull.

"So, what's the job?" Din questioned, the snow reflecting off the black of his visor. "Just follow me, we have time." Paz replied as he started walking off, his footprints left behind him as a trail for Din to follow.

As they walked, Din's thoughts got lost like the ground beneath the snow, the calming presence of Paz relaxing him. He had been wondering what this mission was, as he was not told much and while he was both eager and annoyed about this, he felt at ease with Paz leading him through this place. After some walking and navigating through the trees, they came to a small hut. Din turned to Paz, a puzzled expression hidden by his helmet as he waited for Paz to speak. "This will be our place for the next day," he said, turning around to Din.

Before Din had a chance to respond, he was hit in the face with a snowball. Confusion slowed his reaction time, falling back into the snow, the softness cushioning his fall. He dodged the next one Paz hurled towards him, grabbing some snow as he rolled to the side. Gripping it tightly in his hand and quickly formed it into a ball, throwing it quickly at Paz after dodging his next throw. The snow collided with the armor, turning back into small flakes as it blew apart.

"Nice one," Paz said before charging at Din, picking him up, and throwing him into a large pile of snow, before slipping on it and falling into the same pile. A laugh escaped from Din as he watched Paz fall face-first into the snow. Snow slid off his helmet as he turned to look at Din, who was trying to hold back more laughter. The two of them entered into a wrestle match in the snow, tossing each other around while laughing like children.

After some time passed they became exhausted, the armor becoming heavy and the cold slowly getting to them. Paz recommended they go inside and take a break, releasing their armor and starting the fire to warm up. The light of the fire shone through the small hut. Paz hung a small pot above the fire, its glow getting more intense as steam escaped the top. He walked to the kitchen tucked in the corner near a window, pulling something out of a cabinet. It was two cups and some items. Din couldn't make out what exactly he was doing, it looked like some kind of drink. He walked over with the cups, passing a cup to Din. It warmed his hands as he held it, looking at it. Tilting his helmet up, he drank some of it, feeling the heat thaw out the cold that remained. "Thank you," he whispered, finally understanding what this mission was actually about. Paz looked at Din, bowing his head slightly before taking a sip. Din relaxed into his chair, putting his feet up on the small table between them and the fire.

They relaxed for a while, chatting about life and what both of them had been up to recently while away from each other. Happy to be together during this time, a time that was meaningful to Mandalorians who value each other more than most. After refilling his cup, they joined each other on the floor closer to the fire, leaning into each other, watching the flicker of the flames.

Paz stood up, grabbing a box from the corner, and placed it on the small table behind Din, he stood up looking into the box as Paz opened it. They were symbols, and some animals, little wooden and metal cut-outs, with a string tied around them. He took some out, holding them in his hand, admiring the pieces before looking at Paz who began hanging them near the fire along the boards that lined the walls. Din did the same, taking the pieces in his hand and slowly hanging them on the wall. It didn't take too long before the box was empty, and the wall was decorated. Taking in the joy of seeing them all hung up, Din asked Paz where he got these. Finding out he had made them, as they had lost most of their things when their hideout was attacked. There was a small bit of sadness in realizing their cherished items had been lost, but knowing Paz took the time and effort to recreate and make new ones filled Din's heart with love. As he looked at Paz he noticed him standing close, moving his arms to put a scarf around Din's neck.

"The sun is setting, we don't have much time," Paz said before walking past Din, to the door leading outside, motioning Din to follow him. So he did, walking back out into the cold, which was more noticeable without his armor on. Paz began moving snow with his hands, piling it carefully and forming it into shapes, Din joined him, before questioning what they were making. "A Mythosaur," he replied. Neither of them had ever seen one in person before, but they had seen art and heard stories, repeating those same stories to foundlings. It had been some time since they had spoken its stories, so while they built it they recited them to each other. Reminiscing about memories and their favorite stories told to them as kids. It took a long time and the sun had set a while ago, the only light coming from the two moons slowly moving across the skyline. They stood there looking at their creation in the dim moonlight, proud of what they made together. Their hands stung from the cold, snow melting from the warmth of their hands having soaked the gloves they wore. They decided it was time to go back inside.

Din threw more wood on the fire as Paz was rummaging around in another box. What was he doing now, Din wondered, ready for a rest after all the work. Paz approached him, removing the scarf around his neck that had become wet from melted snow, replacing it with a blanket, that wrapped perfectly around Din's shivering body, barely touching the floor. Din removed his gloves and placed them near the fire before crashing on the soft couch, Paz joining him after grabbing his own blanket.

Pulling Din against him as they both leaned back, Paz wrapped the blanket around himself and Din. Exhaling as the tension in his body relaxed, Din’s eyes slowly closing as Paz told him stories, thanking Din for being here with him and that these activities brought him so much joy, especially sharing them once again with Din after everything. They both slept soundly, the fire crackling next to them, the light from the flames dancing around the hut, reflecting off some of the decorations as the moonlight crept in through the windows. Dreaming of the holidays they shared with family as children and now shared with each other in their own way, something that was special to each of them and that they wished would continue for years to come. Joyful memories in an unknown but more peaceful time than recent years, something they both needed and would cherish. —------- Happy Holidays, I hope you enjoyed this cute Paz/Din story, all the best for the new year!

#sw secret santa 2022 #this is my first fic in a while i had so much fun writing it #din/paz #mando/paz #paz #mando #the mandalorian #mandalorian #fluff #star wars fluff #mando and paz #mando fluff #fic gift #star wars secret santa 2022 #star wars fandom fest

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nacaharachuya · 1 year

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hey guys, since I’m in between fics and want to write, I’m doing a giveaway for giggles. also I’ve gotten a lot of support on silver soul and my accounts, so I thought I’d share the love. anyways, like this or share it and I’ll announce the winner on the 29th!

#soukoku #bsd #bungou stray dogs #chuuya nakahara #Dazai Osamu #skk #dachuu #my writing #I’m excited #fic gift

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greywalkercrow · 1 year

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In Silence

In Silence Hannigram Vampires AU, "Will can finally focus on his own emotions because H is a psychopath" prompt by

@giveusS4already Usual trigger warns for Vampire AUs and Canon Compliant violence

He can hear the silence descend. It sounds like wings. Like the rush of the blood in his ears when he's alone at night. It's almost too much to handle at first, but then it sinks in, cloaks him in a blanket as still and dark as midnight as he finally manages to meet those eyes. Holds them with his own, steady, unwavering. Nothing to catch, nothing to hold onto, nothing to be distracted by-

He'd told him when they first met that eye contact was distracting. And it is… when there's anything there to BE distracted by. He can't hear the echoes of emotion. Can't find the thread to pluck from a tangle and follow to its inevitable ending. Can't pluck a single note from the cacophony to listen to… because there is no cacophony. Warm red-brown eyes look deep into his, before Hannibal turns his gaze back to the dying girl on the floor, a hint of fang peeking from behind his lips as he holds his hands firmly over Abigail's throat. Holding her together, while Will slides down next to him, panicking at all the implications of this discovery. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd noticed, surely? Somewhere in their talks, their conversations? Hadn't he?

But no. The purity of his emotions in those moments had come from within. Nothing to reflect. Nothing to mirror. It had been his own desire, leading him by the nose. His own thoughts, tasteless and tasty, running in circles in every conversation, every intimate moment between them.

It hits him like a ton of bricks. Sudden and inevitable. "You're the Ripper," he breathes, eyes blown wide. Hannibal's hands twitch, but he does not move. Moments before the EMTs breach the door, before the FBI will arrive.

"And what will you do about it, Will?" "… Why should I do anything?" He responds, settles next to Hannibal on the floor, watching Abigail's eyes slide shut, drift off. "If you were going to kill me, I'd be dead already," Will says softly, bravely. Certainty in his voice and the set of his shoulders. "Mhn. Not necessarily," Hannibal squeezes gently, blood running over his hands and Will follows the trickle; away from Abigail Hobb's face, away from her panic, and focuses instead on his pulseless wrists. "But you're right, even so. I do not want you dead, Will." Hannibal's gaze tracks the movement outside a moment before the door is kicked in and the swarm of activity carries Will away on the flood of emotions and thought.

He grasps uselessly at the anchor Hannibal now represents, and then succumbs to the cacophony like sinking under the waves of an angry, churning, Atlantic. Hannibal watches, removes his hands from Abigail's throat, rises, allows himself to be examined even as Will is examined. Explains everything in a cool, collected tone. Watches as Will slowly falls apart.

He could use this. Could build this into something beautiful. All he has to do… is look for the right leverage to push him over the edge.

#In Silence #Vampire AU #Hannigram #NBC Hannibal #Hannibal NBC #fic gift #gift fic

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majoringinsarcasm · 4 months

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DONT BE AFRAID TO COMMENT ON OLD FICS DONT BE AFRAID TO COMMENT ON FICS IN A FANDOM THE AUTHOR MAY NO LONGER BE ACTIVE IN. IF THE STORY IS STILL UP LET THEM KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS IT MIGHT JUST BE THE REMINDER THAT MAKES THEIR DAY.

SINCERELY SOMEONE WHO JUST GOT A REPLY THAT MADE ME WANNA MAKE THIS POST

#reject modern fast fashion fandom culture #comment on shit from 2012 to scare and or delight the author #anytime I see ppl reading my haikyuu fics I wanna cry with happiness #being reminded of fics and then looking and realizing I still love them is a true gift #COMMUNITY BITCHES THIS IS WHAT THAT IS

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westruun · 7 months

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You have given me everything.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3edit #bloodweave #astarion x gale #*mine: gifs #nsft #just in case #some of the limbs are awkward #but idc #a gift for everyone sharing amazing fic and art #i have so many gifs #but don't want to annoy anyone #this is also the first time i've seen ascended astarion #and it made me so sad #*mine: bw gifs #gale dekarios #astarion ancunin

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persnickety-doodles · 5 months

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But Korra's protests die on her tongue as Asami pulls her in for another kiss, and by the time they resurface their tea has long since gone cold.

Under Me, Over Me, Any Way You’ll Have Me by @korrasamibottles

I’m back with another inspired doodle! ☺️ Enjoy!

#tbh I’ve been fighting one heck of an art block #then B posts some writing and BOOM I’m back again!#back for now at least #I love gifting art if you can’t tell already #warning the fic is r18 #but this scene was too cute I adored it #korrasami #persnickety doodles #alicia draws #korrasamibottles #art inspired #lok #avatar

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rileyslibrary · 9 months

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Exhausted and in the middle of a week-long field exercise, you seek comfort and visit Ghost in the command tent.

———————————————————————

You step into the command tent, letting the entrance flap fall quietly behind you. The only light illuminating the place is a small hanging lamp above the worktable, filled with maps and scattered paperwork.

Your eyes gradually adjust to the dim interior, and your focus settles on the back of the figure before you. Ghost leans over the table, absorbed in a discussion over the comms about the field exercise’s next steps.

His leg is crossed in front of the other, and he glances over his broad shoulder as he senses your presence. He raises his fist, silently signalling for you to wait until he’s finished.

However, you’re not one to obey such commands from him; he knows that all too well.

You drag your weary feet across the ground, and the sound of rocks and dust echoes softly in the confined space. The lieutenant motions with his palm for you to move quietly as he continues the conversation with his comrades. This time, you decide to comply.

You walk cautiously and approach the workstation, closing the distance between you. Although behind him, you can see him better now; his head is lowered over the map spread across the table. He listens to the soldiers on the other end of the line, briefing him on safety protocols, emergency procedures, and potential hazards for tomorrow. He nods and murmurs the occasional “mhm” in response.

You place your thumbs into his pants’ belt loops and gently pull yourself closer to him. He doesn’t budge. You exhale through pieced lips, releasing the tension that had been building up, and nestle your face between his shoulder blades. You take a long and deep inhale, breathing him in. That’s the only scent you want to fill your lungs with right now—not the bitter odour of gunpowder nor the dry breeze of the fields—just him.

A stray wind ruffles the tent’s fabric from the outside, and he stiffens up. His head turns towards the source of the disturbance, and his hand retreats from the table to rest on your back as if protecting you from the outside.

“It’s alright,” you whisper into his back, “just the wind.”

He relaxes, shifting his attention back to the comms. His hand migrates from your back to your forearm, gently urging it out of his belt loops. He lifts it to his lips, kissing your hand beneath the balaclava he wears. He sets it against his stomach and holds it there. You follow his lead, repeating the gesture with your other hand and wrapping yourself around him, intertwining your fingers.

He delivers the final instructions over the comms and signs off. He straightens up.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he murmurs, yet still holding your wrapped hands around him.

“You shouldn’t have let me in,” You reply.

You feel his right hand moving, grabbing a pen and writing something on the map. “It’s not as if you ever ask for permission,” he remarks.

You take another deep breath into his back, followed by an audible sigh.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“Nothing,” you reply. “Just tired.”

He puts the pen down, lifts his right arm, and you slide beneath it. He hugs your shoulder, and you rest your head on his chest. You both look at the worktable in front of you.

“What’s all this?” you ask.

He shrugs and kisses the top of your head. “You know what they are.” He replies, his voice muffled by your hair.

“I don’t wanna do tomorrow.” You frown as you gesture at the map. “It looks... chaotic.”

His hand shifts from your shoulder to rest on your waist, gently guiding you until you stand between him and the table. You look up into his sleep-deprived, bloodshot eyes. He, too, is tired.

“Nobody does,” he replies, “but we have to, yeah?”

You nod and brush your fingers against his chest. He plants one final kiss on your forehead, then taps your hip twice with his hand.

“Off you go,” he commands. “tomorrow will be a long day.”

You pout and grumble, but he doesn’t back down. You have no choice but to yield to his authority. You walk towards the exit and lift the tent’s flap.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” You venture.

He shakes his head. “Too many eyes, love,” he says, looking over his shoulder. “Wait until we’re back at the base.”

You sigh softly. “I miss you.” You confess.

He turns his entire body towards you as he leans against the work table. The hanging lamp reveals his eyes; there’s a smile hidden within them.

He nods. It’s his way of saying ‘Me too,’ and that’s all you need. He may not voice affection openly, but he doesn’t have to. You understand each other in ways words could never express.

He extends his hand towards you, palm facing down. He makes a small, subtle wave with his wrist, insinuating that you’re standing in the middle of the entrance with the flap open, making yourself an easy target to spot for whoever passes by.

You snap back to reality, excuse yourself, and exit his tent. You make your way towards your own, longing for the moment you’ll finally be reunited at the base.

———————————————————————

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ghostbsuter · 5 months

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"Hello there, little comet."

Robin wirled around with his sword pointed, standing still just before the skin of the others throat.

"Always so tense." The person teases and Robin tuts, pulling his sword back.

"Still obnoxious as always, Wraith."

The man chuckles lightly, stepping out of the shadows with a wave. "Have you learned any slang now that you live with your father? Fitting in is one of the most important skills for an assassin."

Robin scowls. "I'm not an assassin anymore."

The man is undeniable smiling beneath the mask, green eyes crinkling. It has Damian feeling all soft and squishy, he turns around with a huff, kicking the ridiculousness of those feelings away.

"You have grown."

"I have."

"I'm glad."

Robin averts his eyes as his comm comes to life, crackling in his ear. "Robin, mugging happening around the corner from your position."

He gives his acknowledgement, turning back to the man—

Only for him to be gone.

Damian sighs. "Until then, brother."

He leaps across the buildings, stepping in as the mugging happens.

—

(Usually, I would put this in the tags, but I'll put it here now for some background!)

Wraith, also formally known as Danyal al Ghul, son of Talia al Ghul and Lady Shiva.

He is younger than his sister, Cass, but older than Damian. During his league days, his loyalty stayed towards Talia, always has until he met Damian as a baby.

He became his guard, much like Cass was supposed for the Demon Head, one of the few teachers Jason had after and went on missions with.

Does he reappear later again? Who knows! He is still with the League, under Talia's command while sticking close to Ra's. A spy if you will.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #fic prompt #writing prompt #dc x dp prompt #Damian and Danny are siblings #damian and danny are ride or die #damian would like his older brother back pleass #dannu is sending him gifts later to the manor #batdad: who are these from #dami: my elder brother #batdad: .............#dami: rest assured father Danyal is much like Repsawn and I #batdad: who is the other parent?#dami: lady shiva i believe #cue to cass snappung her head to them with wide eyss #shes mouthing “brother?” all over with confusion and brows furrowed with concentration

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strangersteddierthings · 6 months

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Beg You to Love Me

"I'm surprised you even remembered, Harrington," Eddie shrugs, hoping he comes off as aloof as he wants to, instead of shaky and unsure like he feels. He was sitting atop the picnic table, arms behind him trying to look as unaffected by Steve's presence as he can, but he's been thrown for a loop ever since Steve emerged from the woods instead of Robin Buckley, like he was expecting.

"Of course, I remember. I- I've never forgotten," Steve whispers, head down and fists clenched at his sides. He looks more like a child being wrongfully scolded than a man defending himself.

The words pull a scoff from Eddie, though. Never forgotten? What the fuck ever. "Right. Something to hold over me, then, if I'd stepped too far out of line? Mutually assured destruction?"

Steve's head snaps up and he looks horrified, which Eddie will admit to almost believing. Steve doesn't seem like the type to join the drama club but his acting's pretty fucking good. "What? No! I would have never- I would never have said anything about us to anyone."

"Right. Sure. Of course. Your own reputation to think about there."

Something like hurt flashes across Steve's face before it frosts over. This is the face he's used to see on Steve. Cold and distant. "I- whatever, man. I don't even know why I thought..." but Steve doesn't finish his sentence. He just shakes his head and turns his back on Eddie, heading back the way he came.

He doesn't know why that sparks a rage from deep within him. "Yeah, that's right. Tuck tail and runaway again!"

"I ran away?" Steve shouts back, turning sharply on his heel to glare at Eddie. "You think that I ran away?"

Eddie just spreads his hands to the empty clearing as if to say 'look at all this room around me you've never occupied'. "You weren't here, were you?"

"Because you told me to not be!" Steve stomps back to Eddie but stops a couple yards away.

"Like fuck I did," Eddie argues back, because he didn't tell Steve to go away. He'd told him-

"'If this isn't good enough for you, there's the fucking door.' That's what you told me," Steve quotes, "I thought it was pretty fucking clear what you wanted."

"Yeah, I fucking thought it was clear what I wanted," Eddie snarls, lunging from the picnic table, closing those last few feet to get into Steve's face. "Yet here we are!"

"Don't act like this is my fucking fault. Like you weren't the one who forced it to be my fault. My decision-"

"Yeah, it had to be your damn decision! You were dragging it out-"

"-because you were too much of a coward to do it your-fucking-self-"

"-acting like you were. Acting too good to actually slum it with the trailer trash-"

"-so of course I made the choice that was best for me. Because I deserved more-"

"-like what I had to offer you would never be good enough for the goddman King-"

"-than just being your hookup when I wanted to be-"

"-like I wasn't good enough to be your friend, much less-"

"-your fucking boyfriend!"

The contrast of this sudden silence that falls following their screaming match that ends with identical sentiments is jarring. Eddie feels wrong-footed and lost. Confusion and hurt mixing in him that he can see reflected on Steve's face.

"What?" Steve is the first to break the silence, drawing into himself. Arms crossing to hold himself at the elbows as he takes several steps back, as if to be able to see all of Eddie will clear the confusion he's feeling.

Eddie just stares back, slack jawed for a moment. That's. What. No, wait. Really, what? "What what?"

"You- you said 'if this isn't good enough for you, there's the fucking door'. How was I- I thought you- you were breaking up with me!" Steve cries, "you. You said that to make me pick, because you knew I wanted more and you didn't. That's- you were breaking up with me!"

Eddie's in just as much disbelief. "No, you broke up with me! I said if this isn't good enough but, like, I meant if I wasn't good enough. And you left! You walked out because I wasn't good enough to be with you!"

Steve looks stricken and he claws harder at himself, sort of folds into himself like he's going to be sick. "No. No no no, that's- then that means I- it's all been my fault. No no no no."

Eddie stares wide-eyed and frozen as Steve talks to himself. Eddie kind of feels nauseous. There's no way that this is possible. That these last two and a half years of heartbreak have been because of miscommunication. That they both thought the other was breaking up with them and neither actually wanted to.

"Why didn't you- Why didn't you say something?" Eddie asks.

Steve laughs at that, sounding a bit hysteric. "Me!? Why didn't you! I wasn't- I wasn't going to beg you to love me like I had with my parents. You were the one who told me I shouldn't have to do that!"

Yeah. He had. When Steve had broken down and cried on his bed, in his arms, wondering what it was he had done to lose his parents' love. Eddie told him it wasn't his fault, never would be, and that he would never need to beg for love from someone who does love him. It was the same advice Wayne had given him when he'd taken Eddie in.

"I already thought you were wanting to break up. You were being so distant, I thought..."

Steve sucks in a deep breath and nods, "Yeah. Yeah I was. I was scared of scaring you away. Of being too much. Because I- what I felt for you was a lot. I was afraid I'd chase you away if I continued to be so clingy. I pulled back, to reign it in but. Fuck. Fuck!"

Eddie drops to a squat. His legs feel like jelly and he can't keep standing. He squats and looks down so his hair becomes a curtain separating him from the reality of the situation, if only for a moment. Fuck is right.

He's spent his junior and first senior year being pissed at Steve. Hurt by him and what he thought happened. And it's- if Steve's being honest, it's all been for nothing. If they both wanted a deeper relationship, they could have had it. They might still be boyfriends if Eddie hadn't been so wrapped up in his Munson Doctrine. He'd been convincing himself Steve was embarrassed of him, and was working on breaking off their- whatever they were. But he hadn't been.

He's thought such terrible things about Steve over the years. God, what has Steve thought of him over the years? No. He doesn't want to know, actually. That's not what he cares about right now.

He lifts his head to see that Steve's plopped himself onto the ground, sitting cross legged, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

"Steve. Steve!" He calls Steve's name out until he looks up, looks at him, "why'd you come out here?"

He laughs again, slightly less hysterically, and he's shaking his head like he can't believe what he's about to say. "I. Fuck, I was coming out here to beg you to love me."

"No you fucking weren't!" his tone is filled with disbelief.

"I was," Steve repeats, sounding amused and heartbroken at the same time. "I really, really was. Graduation's coming and I know you want to get out of Hawkins the second that happens and I'm. I was running out of time trying to get you to notice me again, so I was going to beg."

Notice him again? As if Steve doesn't haunt his every waking thought. As if he doesn't dream of Steve every night while his eyes seek him across the halls and in their few shared classes like he's the goddamn night sky and Eddie is a sailor lost at sea needing the north star to guide him home. Eddie's never not noticed him, and he thinks he has to come out here and beg? "When someone loves you, you don't have to beg."

"Yeah, I know," Steve sighs, defeated, which lets Eddie know that Steve does not, in fact, know. He looks away from Eddie, down to his lap.

Fuck, it's like every fantasy Eddie's had of them making up and then making out has been handed to him on a silver platter and he's blowing it. His words are too vague, too easily misinterpreted. Again. He falls forward on to his knees, hands catching him so he's on all fours like an animal. "Steve. I mean it. You don't have to beg."

"I get it, Eddie," Steve huffs, not looking at him. Not actually understanding.

Eddie starts to crawl the distance between them. Steve looks up then, probably to see what the fuck Eddie was doing with the shuffling sounds and the chain on his belt clacking. Eddie watches Steve's eyes go wide, mouth dropping open to a small 'o'. "See, the thing is, Steve," Eddie says, pulling himself up to be just on his knees to shuffle the last few inches closer. Steve leans back to keep his eyes on Eddie's face, which opens his lap up. "You said you know, but I don't think you do." Eddie brings his hands to rest on Steve's shoulders and Steve lets him. "You don't have to beg." He uses his hold on Steve's shoulders to balance himself as he swings a leg wide, to straddle Steve, then shifts his weight to repeat the process with his other leg before settling himself into Steve's lap. Steve's hands land on his hips and Eddie isn't sure if it's intentional or a reaction to Eddie plopping himself in his laps but he's going to believe it's the first one. "You've never had to beg with me."

Steve sucks in a sharp breath and then he collapses into Eddie. Steve's hands on his hips slide up and pull him into a hug, as close to Steve's body as he can get, while Steve shoves his head under Eddie's chin, into the junction of his neck and shoulder and breaths him in like it's the last breath Steve will ever take. "We're so stupid."

"Yeah," Eddie agrees, as he lifts one hand to hold the back of Steve's head while the other drops to rub soothingly at his back. "Yeah, we are."

They sit in the dirt, the closest they've been since that summer between '81 and '82. They should probably talk about. They're going to have to, if they want this to work. Full sentences with no hidden meanings, even though the thought of that kind of vulnerability makes Eddie skittish. It's going to be difficult, but it'll be worth it. Steve has always been worth it.

Eddie wants to say 'I love you', just to get it out, in the open, and not just implied, but there's a different first step to take. One that's actually a little easier. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Me too," Steve whispers, "I'm sorry. I should have-"

"Shut up," Eddie cuts him off, voice quiet and soft as he can be. "This is, and I cannot stress it enough, a we situation."

The huff of laughter on his skin from Steve feels like the start of something. A new beginning, a start over. A re-do.

A goddamn miracle.

Later, they'll drag themselves apart and up. Make it to the back of Eddie's van in the school parking lot to talk. Going to either's house feel too much, too soon. Their big fight happened at Eddie's home, and Steve's house isn't warm enough for the kind of comfort they want to share.

They'll have a talk. Filled with long pauses, stumbling over words and fears and insecurities because this is the hard part of a relationship. Getting it all out in the open so they can learn if they'll even work. The fear that they aren't going to be compatible anymore looms but doesn't deter. They both want a second chance, to give it a real shot, by the end of that first talk. But taking it slow.

They'll discuss what went wrong the first time (diving in without talking about anything certainly played a big part) and how to avoid that.

But that's later. Right now, Eddie just holds Steve, and Steve holds him back, and it certainly feels like the beginning of something good.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems

#steddie #my fic #this is just Miscommunication The Fic #hurt/comfort #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckleys the mvp for setting up the meeting by lying to eddie #shes going to demand a thank you gift for giving them the time to talk #and eddie WILL send her a whole fruit basket

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