#once upon a time there was The Christmas Soldier

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

I wonder what that feeling is that you get when you had an idea, an idea for writing, I mean. More than an idea, a project.

A good one, that somehow involves you and what you found touching all of your life, and which calls so much inspiration to your writer hand, and that you know could work.

You have the whole story in front of your eyes like a film: you know how it begins, how it will unfold and how it ends. And you even know why it should be written. But you can’t sit down and write it.

Because your life simply doesn’t allow for it.

It’s probably useless to explain… However: breadwinner woman, always on the forefront, meaningless work hours and meaningful duties which dog you into your day, until there’s nothing left of you as a person, let alone as a writer.

But a thought still bugs you: about writers who wrote anyway, although being very poor, and troubled in many ways. Writers who put writing first, and made themselves scarce with family, no matter what. Writers who were writers, fullstop.

So you go: A-ha…. That’s it. If YOU were a writer, then you would write. You would put writing first.

But you’re an ant, or better, a cog, let’s not discuss the importance of the mechanism you serve in.

And so this thought brings a crumb of clarity, if not closure (just lately disturbed by a doubt: you’re probably not a very good cog, or ant, because frankly you look like you’re dying).

However, this idea I had, this project, was called “The Christmas Soldier”, about two privates from WW1, a British and a German one, meeting on the occasion of the fabled football game which was improvised for the exceptional and illusory truce of Christmas 1914.

For the two adversary soldiers it was instant love, as crazy and illogical as could be, but then of course they lost sight of each other, and the war went on.

My story developed into the 70’s, when one of the soldiers, the British one, who had become a medical officer in WW2, then a doctor for life, would write a book on his experience, and a young feminist journalist would be struck with interest and begin researching the matter. The book is received with niche approval, which spreads to wide fame when, some years later, thanks also to the young woman who chose to intertwine her destiny with those of the two boys lost in time, a film is made of the story. I keep the conclusion to myself.

Also because, in the meantime, not one, but two WRITERS have put out TWO books, mastering a recipe with my main ingredients: gay romance starting in WW1 and love confronting time and history. Although none of the two books are about one British and one German soldier, and my story IS different. But as they would say, the shot has been fired.

So, what’s that feeling called, when THIS happens?

[blondephil]

hello (one of the) resident phannie data analyst(s) here with some parasocial stats on dnp’s movie tastes! following: distribution of dan and phil's ratings overall, movies they each rated 5 stars, their lowest-rated movies, and the similarities + differences in their tastes

(lore moment: yes i am a data analyst in my real job. yes i surprised myself with wanting to do this in my spare time. but then i remembered when we read dracula in college (yes i was an english major) and i graphed like, how many times dracula was referred to as vampire versus monster or something. so i shouldn’t be surprised.

first up, their overall rating patterns and by ~special status~ (i.e., wall-e, kill bill, avatar, lmao, plus big hero 6 for the fun of it)

dan’s rated 304 movies and phil’s rated 305. both of them have mean and median ratings of 4 with min 1 and max 5.

both rated kill bill vols. 1 and 2 a 5. wall-e got a 4.5 from dan and a 4 from phil (phake phans). both gave avatar a 3.5. and big hero 6 3.5 (dan) and 4.5 (phil)

rating distribution:

i did analyses here by genre but i need to fix the output (i’m writing all of these based on the markdown document from my phone on the subway, but i need to fix the outputs and i don’t have my computer. so those are pending but there are other genre analyses that i could do & haven’t yet!)

while i was sorting through the data i got the impression that dan overall rated movies higher than phil. so, among movies that they've both rated, here's some information

number of movies dan rated higher than phil: 65

Empire Strikes Back, Blade Runner, Return of the Jedi, My Neighbor Totoro, Back to the Future II, Nightmare Before Christmas, Toy Story, Phantom Mence, Donnie Darko, Attack of the Clones, Finding Nemo, Oldboy, The Notebook, Batman Begins, Brokeback Mountain, WALL-E, (500) Days of Summer, Up, The Hangover, Drive, The Cabin in the Woods, The Avengers, The Dark Knight Rises, Life of Pi, Skyfall, The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, Whiplash, The Amazing Spider-Man 2, Room, The Hateful Eight, The Force Awakens, Manchester by the Sea, Deadpool, La La Land, Moonlight, Rogue One, Call Me By Your Name, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2., Wonder Woman, Spider-Man: Homecoming, I, Tonya, Thor: Ragnorak, Phantom Thread, Roma, The Favourite, The Lighthouse, Toy Story 4, Midsommar, Ad Astra, Knives Out, Soul, The Green Knight, No Time to Die, Don't Look Up, Spider-Man: No Way Home, Turning Red, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, Thor: Love and Thunder, The Banshees of Inisherin, The Fabelmans, Glass Onion, Beau is Afraid, Barbie, Oppenheimer, Poor Things

number of movies phil rated higher than dan: 55

Star Wars (New Hope), Blair Witch Project, Requiem for a Dream, Memento, Ocean's Eleven, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Iron Man 2, Thor, Captain America: The First Avenger, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Moonrise Kingdom, Iron Man 3, Gravity, Prisoners, The Wolf of Wall Street, The Grand Budapest Hotel, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, The Imitation Game, Nightcrawler, John Wick, Gone Girl, Big Hero 6, Jurassic World, The Martian, The Revenant, Nocturnal Animals, Split, Get Out, Baby Driver, The Disaster Artist, Dunkirk, The Shape of Water, The Greatest Showman, The Last Jedi, Ready Player One, Crazy Rich Asians, A Star is Born, Rocketman, Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood, Joker, The Rise of Skywalker, The Invisible Man, A Quiet Place Part II, Greenland, Tenet, Malignant, Eternals, The Matrix Resurrections, Scream (2022), Nope, Prey, Talk to Me, Avatar: The Way of the Water, The Super Mario Bros. Movie, Mission Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One

number of movies they rated the same: 99!

Alien, ET, Gremlins, Back to the Future, Top Gun, Aliens, Home Alone, Silence of the Lambs, Jurassic Park, Pulp Fiction, The Lion King, Se7en, Scream, The Fifth Element, Titanic, The Truman Show, The Matrix, Magnolia, Spirited Away, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Spider-Man, Lost in Translation, Kill Bill, Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Kill Bill Vol. 2, Mean Girls, Howl's Moving Castle, Children of Men, The Dark Knight, Pontypool, Inglourious Basterds, Avatar, Toy Story 3, Inception, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, Black Swan, The Social Network, 21 Jump Street, The Hunger Games, Silver Linings Playbook, The Conjuring, Snowpiercer, Her, Thor: The Dark World, The Hunger Games: Catching Fire, Boyhood, It Follows, Guardians of the Galaxy, Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance), Interstellar, Ex Machina, The Witch, Avengers: The Age of Ultron, Mad Max: Fury Road, Inside Out, Ant-Man, Captain America: Civil War, Your Name., Arrival, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, mother!, It, Blade Runner 2049, Hereditary, Black Panther, Annihilation, A Quiet Place, Avengers: Infinity War, Captain Marvel, Us, Avengers: Endgame, Parasite, It Chapter Two, Marriage Story, Uncut Gems, 1917, Black Widow, The Suicide Squad, Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, Dune, Last Night in Soho, The Batman (2022), Everything Everywhere All at Once, X, The Northman, Top Gun: Maverick, Bullet Train, Barbarian, Pearl, M3GAN, Dungeons and Dragongs: Honor Among Thieves, Evil Dead Rise, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3., No Hard Feelings, Saltburn, Priscilla, Society of the Snow, Saw X, Leave the World Behind

i didn't analyse this by genre or anything, but i could -- so if you're interested lmk!

the 5 movies with the most different ratings between dan and phil

- Iron Man 2 (dan: 2, phil 3.5)

- The Greatest Showman (d: 2.5, p: 4)

- Malignant (d: 3, p: 4.5)

- Scream (2022) (d: 2.5, p: 4)

- Beau is Afraid (d: 3, p: 1.5)

Interesting that even though dan has more higher rated movies, 4/5 of these ones phil rated higher.

next, their 5-star movies

dan's five stars: 80

Alien, Empire Strikes Back, ET, Blade Runner, Gremlins, Back to the Future, Top Gun, Aliens, Stand by Me, The Grave of the Fireflies, My Neighbor Totoro, Back to the Future II, Home Alone, Silence of the Lambs, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, Jurassic Park, Nightmare Before Christmas, Schindler's List, Pulp Fiction, The Lion King, Toy Story, Fargo, Scream, The Fifth Element, Hercules, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Titanic, The Truman Show, The Matrix, Fight Club, Magnolia, The Emperor's New Groove, Donnie Darko, Moulin Rouge, Shrek, Spirited Away, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Finding Nemo, Kill Bill, Oldboy, Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Shaun of the Dead, Kill Bill Vol. 2, Howl's Moving Castle, Revenge of the Sith, Brokeback Mountain, No Country for Old Men, The Dark Knight, Inception, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, The Tree of Life, 21 Jump Street, The Avengers, Life of Pi, Skyfall, Under the Skin, Whiplash, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, Interstellar, Mad Max: Fury Road, Sicario, The Hateful Eight, La La Land, Arrival, mother!, Blade Runner 2049, Avengers: Infinity War, First Man, The Favourite, The Lighthouse, Parasite, Midsommar, Uncut Gems, 1917, Dune, Everything Everywhere All at Once, Top Gun: Maverick, Oppenheimer, Poor Things

phil's five stars:

Star Wars (New Hope), Alien, ET, Gremlins, Back to the Future, Top Gun, Aliens, Home Alone, Silence of the Lambs, Jurassic Park, Pulp Fiction, The Lion King, Scream, The Fifth Element, Titanic, The Truman Show, The Matrix, Magnolia, Requiem for a Dream, Memento, Spirited Away, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Kill Bill, Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Kill Bill Vol. 2, Howl's Moving Castle, The Dark Knight, Inception, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, 21 Jump Street, Interstellar, Mad Max: Fury Road, The Revenant, Arrival, Dunkirk, mother!, Blade Runner 2049, Avengers: Infinity War, Parasite, Uncut Gems, 1917, Dune, Everything Everywhere All at Once, Top Gun: Maverick, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, The Shawshank Redemption, Gladiator, Little Miss Sunshine

overlap: 39

Alien, ET, Gremlins, Back to the Future, Top Gun, Aliens, Home Alone, Silence of the Lambs, Jurassic Park, Pulp Fiction, The Lion King, Scream, The Fifth Element, Titanic, The Truman Show, The Matrix, Magnolia, Spirited Away, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Kill Bill, Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Kill Bill Vol. 2, Howl's Moving Castle, The Dark Knight, Inception, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, 21 Jump Street, Interstellar, Mad Max: Fury Road, Arrival, mother!, Blade Runner 2049, Avengers: Infinity War, Parasite, Uncut Gems, 1917, Dune, Everything Everywhere All at Once, Top Gun: Maverick

& their lowest rated movies...

dan: matrix resurrections (1) , thor: the dark world (1.5), the rise of skywalker (1.5)

phil: crimes of the future (1), attack of the clones (1.5), thor: the dark world (1.5), don’t look up (1.5), the matrix resurrections (1.5), doctor strange in the multiverse of madness (1.5), beau is afraid (1.5), black bear (1.5)

not even chris hemsworth could save thor the dark world, i guess (kat dennings, though…)

movies they logged on the same date:

note that this is like, non-exhaustive, because this is only based on their diaries that list the date. i think in reality they've watched most of these movies together. frequently dan logged a couple days after phil which aren’t shown here. procrastination queen

Pontypool, Eternals, The Northman, Nope, Barbarian, The Banshees of Inisherin, Glass Onion, The Super Mario Bros. Movie, Beau is Afraid, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3., Mission Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One, Saltburn, Poor Things, Priscilla, Saw X, Leave the World Behind

movies that one logged and not the other:

dan but not phil: 85

The Exorcist, Stand by Me, The Grave of the Fireflies, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, Home Alone 2, Schindler's List, Fargo, Romeo & Juliet, Hercules, Men in Black, Neon Genesis Evangelion, The Mummy, The 13th Warrior, Fight Club, The Emperor's New Groove, Moulin Rouge, Shrek, Legally Blonde, Monsters, Inc, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Scooby-Doo, 28 Days Later, Matrix Reloaded, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, School of Rock, Matrix Revolutions, Saw, Shaun of the Dead, Shrek 2, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Revenge of the Sith, The Devil Wears Prada, Borat, Casino Royale, No Country for Old Men, Death Proof, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, There Will Be Blood, Tropic Thunder, Slumdog Millionaire, Moon, District 9, Fantastic Mr. Fox, The King's Speech, We Need to Talk About Kevin, The Tree of Life, X-Men: First Class, Prometheus, Argo, Les Miserables, Django Unchained, World War Z, Pacific Rim, Under the Skin, 12 Years a Slave, American Hustle, The Babadook, The Lego Movie, x-Men: Days of Future Past, 22 Jump Street, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, The Theory of Everything, Green Room, Sicario, Spotlight, The Big Short, 10 Cloverfield Lane, The Conjuring 2, Train to Busan, Hacksaw Ridge, Doctor Strange, Hidden Figures, Logan, You Were Never Really Here, Game Night, Isle of Dogs, First Man, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, Suspiria, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, Glass, Hustlers, Pig, Violent Night

phil but not dan: 86

Jaws, The Terminator, Beetlejuice, Die Hard, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, Groundhog Day, The Shawshank Redemption, Leon: The Professional, The Usual Suspects, The Frighteners, The Sixth Sense, Being John Malkovich, American Beauty, The Green Mile, Gladiator, Catch Me if You Can, Elf, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Little Miss Sunshine, Pan's Labyrinth, The Prestige, Zodiac, Spider-Man 3, Iron Man, Juno, Lake Mungo, Twilight, Zombieland, Kick-Ass, Brave, Evil Dead, The Great Gatsby, Now You See Me, Monsters University, Man of Steel, About Time, Dallas Buyers Club, Edge of Tomorrow, The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1, The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 2, The Boy, Raw, Finding Dory, Suicide Squad, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, John Wick: Chapter 2, Lady Bird, The Ritual, Happy Death Day, Deadpool 2, Ocean's 8, Ant-Man and The Wasp, Bird Box, Booksmart, Crawl, Spider-Man: Far From Home, The Platform, Black Bear, Palm Springs, The Empty Man, The Innocents, Titane, Old, Free Guy, The Black Phone, Fresh, Watcher, Bodies Bodies Bodies, Ambulance, Aftersun, Crimes of the Future, Fall, Bones and All, The Menu, Sanctuary, Do Revenge, Smile, Hellraiser (2022), Mr. Harrigan's Phone, Plane, Missing, Infinity Pool, Past Lives, Knock at the Cabin, Scream VI

i’m interested to see how this varies by genre!

miscellaneous non-statistical things that made me parasocially emotional and/or laugh during this process:

they watched nope together on christmas eve 2022 <3

dan rated moulin rouge a 5 <3 nature boy <3

he also rated shrek a 5. of course. (valid).

4.5 from dan and 4 from phil from the notebook

5 from danny for brokeback mountain <3 and a 4.5 from philly

cmbyn, yes, has its issues, but dan rated 4.5 and phil 4

the shape of water got a 4.5 from monsterfucker phil lester (dan gave it a 4)

surprisingly phil rated rocketman higher than dan! surprising because dan liked so many musicals

dan gave hustlers a 3.5. i don't know why i think this is funny, but i do. phil doesn't have it logged or rated, lmao.

a 4 (d) and a 3.5 (p) for barbie!

phil gave twilight a 3. lol.

phil also gave do revenge only a 3.5. tragique.

phil watched a LOT of horror alone in october 2022 (aka while dan was on tour). anyway he's just like me <3

[wayward-dreamer]

Pillow Talk

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Reader

Word count: 1,782

Summary: After a stressful meeting lead by Stan Edgar, Y/N looks forward to her other weekly meeting that is far more enjoyable.

Warnings: Swearing, implied smut: oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up people), pillow talk turned dirty talk, vaginal fingering

A/N: I started writing this after that Gen V ep, but a lot of things got in the way of me finishing it. Happy reading, hope y'all like it! :) beta'd by my love @hintsofhoney

Y/N yawned, covering her mouth with her hand as she scribbled random drawings on the paper in front of her with a black pen. She was bored out of her mind as Mr. Edgar addressed everyone in the meeting, something about the latest demographic numbers for the supes and she was meant to be taking notes about it all, but she lost track. Whoever decided it was a good idea to have a meeting at the end of the day on a Friday was an idiot. Another few minutes of this and she could leave, once the clock ticked over to 5pm and the weekend was officially upon them. She kept glancing up at the time, her heeled foot shaking in anticipation for a regular meeting of her own that she was excited to get to.

Ever since Vought’s Christmas party a few months ago, when she caught the attention of Soldier Boy and they spent the night together, she’d leave the Friday meeting, pack up her things and get her night started with him. It was never anything serious between them, just some fun between them every week, and that was exactly what she needed.

A smile came to her face as she got lost in thought about everything he had in store for her, just as Mr. Edgar dismissed everyone for the weekend. She picked up her things and walked out behind all the male employees who she couldn’t stand. She was Mr. Edgar’s assistant but there were times that she was forced to do tasks some of the other suits wanted her to do, no matter how much she protested. They were all arrogant, entitled assholes who only wanted one thing when they looked at her, and even though Soldier Boy was no different because he also was a man of his time, at least he never pretended to be anything else around her.

Y/N walked back to her desk and put everything on top, ready to collect once she decided to leave, before she made her way down the hallway towards the loft apartments where the supes resided. She stopped in front of the door marked with “Soldier Boy” in gold letters, turning the knob and letting herself in, which was what she always did considering the door was unlocked after 5pm just for her. As she strolled into the apartment, she unbuttoned and took off her gray blazer, draping it over the back of one of the armchairs, smiling at the sound of a Sinatra song coming from the record player in the corner.

“Right on time,” she heard his deep, rough voice enter the room as he walked from his bedroom to the bar.

She turned around, a shiver running down her back as she took in his appearance. “I’m nothing if not punctual.”

Soldier Boy smirked as he poured a generous amount of whiskey into two tumblers, moving out from behind the bar as he sauntered over to her, his suit unzipped and revealing the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath. He swiped something off the surface before he stood in front of her, handing her a glass.

“After the day I’ve had, I really need this,” she said, turning the tumbler around in her hand. “Cheers.”

He clinked his glass against hers, a grin on his face as he watched her take a few sips. He held up the small, plastic bag with a handful of pills inside, waving it in front of her eyes which had her pause drinking, their gazes locked on each other.

“Anything else you really need?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her mouth opening slightly.

They kept their eyes on each other as he took out two of the small, round tablets from the bag. She stuck her tongue out a little, making him groan at the sight as he placed one of the pills on it, watching her swallow it down and taking a sip of her whiskey. He continued to stare at her as he tossed the tablet back with a swig of his drink, frowning as he saw her put her now empty glass down as she began to unbutton her blouse.

“You know that’s my job, doll,” he husked, his eyes darkened as he looked at her. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

He wasted no more time as he threw back the rest of the amber liquid, tossing the glass behind him and hearing it shatter, unbothered by the scattered pieces across the floor. He moved towards her, pulling her roughly into his arms as he pressed his lips to hers, the kiss as searing and erotic as all their previous encounters. He grasped her shirt in his hands, ripping it down the front, a squeal escaping her as the buttons flew everywhere. By now he usually had her on the bed, on her back with her legs thrown over his shoulders, but he had other plans for her as he pushed her down on the sofa. The fingers of one hand curled into the leather as the other moved between the soft locks of his hair, his head between her thighs and making her come undone in no time at all as she screamed his name and covered his mouth in her arousal.

Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, Soldier Boy gathered her in his strong arms and carried her over to the dining table, roughly dropping her down on the surface as their hands frantically pulled off the rest of each other’s clothes. With her back meeting the cold wood of the table and her legs wrapped around his waist, she moaned wantonly as he thrusted into her, moving faster and harder with every mutter of his name from her lips. It wasn’t long before she reached the peak for a second time, a giggle of disbelief leaving her as she came down from her high.

They made it to the bed eventually. With one last release from her triggering his, they came together as he grunted, a smirk pulling at his lips when he felt the way he spilled inside her walls. He rolled off her, her nimble fingers plucking the sheet up and pulling it over them, just as he reached for the cigarettes on his nightstand. He took one out of the pack and placed it between his lips, picking up his lighter and flicking it, bringing the small flame to the tip. He took a long drag before he blew it out, closing his eyes in satisfaction as he felt Y/N take the cigarette from between his fingers. As he opened them, he turned to look at her, watching the way she held it between her own fingers, the way her lips closed around the filter.

“Well, you really know how to take my mind off things, that’s for damn sure,” she stated, laughing softly as she placed the cigarette in the ashtray that sat on the nightstand.

“It’s a fucking gift,” he grinned. “Better take a breather, ‘cause I ain't done with you yet, sugar.”

She smiled, a small sigh escaping her as she thought back on the day. “It’s a good thing we keep this little rendezvous of ours on a Friday because those meetings are slow, agonizing torture.”

“I’m guessing it was a meeting with Stan?” he asked, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her neck.

“Yeah,” she replied, a small gasp falling from her lips as he continued to nip at her skin. “He just stresses me out about everything.”

She tried to resist him as he nuzzled at her neck, trying to move further down, but she eventually gave in with a low moan. Her eyes closed as her head fell back against the pillow, feeling his lips move down her collarbone and pull the sheet down, exposing her breasts to him. Her eyebrows furrowed as he nipped and sucked at her flesh, his tongue circling over her nipple.

“Handling the supes is getting to be too much as well, thanks to him,” she muttered, biting down on her lip as she tried to move away from him.

She could feel herself getting lost to his skillful tongue and fingers, but the second round he was trying to start needed to wait. She was only human, and didn’t have the same stamina he had as a supe.

He lifted his head, releasing the stiff bud with a wet pop, staring down at her. “Even me?”

“Especially you,” she countered, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he began, his signature smirk on his face as his hand drifted down under the sheets, moving between her legs and feeling how wet she was again. Their eyes locked as he teased her folds with his fingers, causing her to gasp and a deep, rough chuckle to escape him as he didn’t take his gaze off her. “I think you’re pretty fucking capable of handling all of me.”

“Stop,” she giggled, trying and failing to push him away.

“You’re the one who can’t stay away, doll.”

“Maybe I should,” she challenged, lifting an eyebrow as she looked up at him.

Soldier Boy’s green eyes darkened with lust, and something else she had no desire to identify. A short gasp of pleasure escaped her as his thumb brushed over her clit, his intense stare never leaving her as the digit circled around the bundle of nerves. Her eyes fluttered closed as a long, drawn out moan left her mouth, his fingers sinking into her tight heat.

“See… if you did that, then you wouldn’t be right here, with my fingers fucking into your tight little pussy,” he grunted, his jaw tight as he looked down at her through hooded eyes.

Y/N didn’t recognize the sound she made as he started to thrust his fingers into her, maybe it was a moan, but it was a shrill cry, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was giving into him once more. As she always did whenever she found herself back here, every single Friday.

“You always come back to a little… pillow talk, don’t ya, sugar?”

The words were just above a whisper, the rough timbre of his voice causing a shiver to run down her back as she wrapped her arm around his neck, holding onto him as she nodded, letting him pleasure her in every way he wanted. He knew she had only been teasing him when she said she’d stay away from him. They both knew her resolve wasn’t that strong.

She wasn’t going to give up this little ritual of theirs any time soon.

[intergalactic-garbage]

true facts about little alex horne

he can fit a penny in the gap between his teeth

has exactly 30% fewer bones than the average person

comes into work with his sandwiches cut into fingers, because he believes they "taste better"

tina turner once described him as "simply the best", and in a separate conversation, "a complete arsehole"

goes around the supermarket following people he thinks look cool, and when they pay and throw away the receipt, picks it up, and buys what they bought

nibbles and scurries his way through life like a long human rat

has his mantra going in his head at all times, and it's "absoluta pulsis voluptatem" (absolute driving pleasure)

when naked, looks like a weird, ill monkey

has crumbs in his beard dating back to the 90's

when it comes to childcare, he doesn't think his wife rachel "pulls her weight"

he doesn't really like women, because he thinks they've gotten a bit "too chopsy of late"

walks like a weird victorian clockwork toy soldier

is the answer to the question "what happens if you throw chunks of pork at a revolving carwash brush?"

his new years' resolution was "bringing back the patriarchy"

his first french kiss was with his second cousin jacob, now a legal underwriter on the isle of man

he doesn't think the NHS is very good, and according to him, some nurses are "lazy"

cries every time he watches free willy, and frees his willy every time he cries

has a separate bank account that his wife doesn't know about

as a child was so irritating, that his mother paid for "a barrage of medical tests"

he's scared of three things: slugs, small spaces, and women being allowed to vote

was once chased and bitten by a peacock in a day he refers to as "the day [he] lost [his] children's respect"

thinks all primary school teachers are the scum of the earth

thinks the refuge team that collects his bins every week are "stupid" and "don't deserve to be paid"

thinks climate change is a hoax propagated by "liberal pussies who don't know how to party"

sometimes deliberately revs his engine in traffic, because it makes him feel "like [he's] in charge of all women"

"[doesn't] know much about politics, but [he thinks] poor people should stop moaning and pull their flipin' fingers out"

is the answer to the question "what does a corpse look like when a corpse continues to grow hair post-mortem?"

his father has only ever given him one christmas gift, a beautifully wrapped piece of welsh slate, that had one solitary word engraved upon it. that word? toad.

until the age of 14 thought his penis was an eleventh finger, with the specific purpose of putting stamps onto letters

when he was young, used to practice kissing on his grandfather's pet carp "mr. suckles"

his slogan is "friendless oddball"

if it was up to him, scotland would be physically sawn off from the UK, and floated into the north sea. horne stated that "we'll soon find out how much they want independence when all they've got to eat is shortbread"

when his wife shouts at him, he whispers "get lost" under his breath

his children call him "little alex horne"

once got dragged 11 miles through the open country side by holding on to what he believed to be a horse's "fifth leg"

makes up tasks in his jacuzzi, and knows he's got a "good one", because "[his] bald ferret breaks the surface for air"

if he sees the pilot of any plane he boards is a woman, he immediately leaves

once hospitalized himself by doing high kicks to toxic by britney spears

🎶 he says he's over six foot but he's five foot four 🎶 little alex horne! 🎶

without hair would be as physically featureless as one sausage

ran away with a circus, but was sent back home, because he was annoying everyone and upset the animals

at some point nearly every day, he cries

once did a poo in a paddling pool

pretty woman is his favourite film

collects teapots that look like cottages

has no respect for the military, and if any soldier came up to him in public, "[he] could easily have them coz they're all stupid"

his head is shaped like the rubber of a pencil, and his body is shaped like a pencil

statistics are his foreplay and spreadsheets his post-coital cigarette

his wife keeps a pocketful of treats for when he remembers to "do toilet outside"

is single-handedly keeping the plastic shoe industry alive

once wet himself on a train when he was 30

hasn't bought car tax or insurance since the 90's, because he thinks it's an example of "big government"

[blingblong55]

Merry little Christmas-141

Photo credits:(twitter/X) @/bigmikemw

A/N: Have yourself a merry little Christmas -Kasper <3

---- GN!Reader, platonic!relationship? fluff/comfort? ----

After so much loss, blood, tears and sweat, Task Force 141 found themselves in a cabin, a Christmas tree decorated, a fireplace lit and much laughter filled the room. The once empty and cold cabin now hosted the fond memory. It was the night before Christmas when not a soldier was awoken by night terrors, not even a gun used to inflict harm; the camouflaged stockings were hung by the Chimney with care, in hope that peace would soon be brought to their lives; The soldiers all nestled in their beds; Smoke from cigars now gone as even the eldest of them all slept well.

By morning, the soldiers woke up, Gaz, Price, Soap, Ghost and R/N and to their surprise, Kate Laswell had gifts that greeted them all. Price sat int he sofa first, Soap and Gaz smiling like they won the war. Ghost and R/N walked in with mugs for all to have and through the early morning, they read the letter that sat upon the chimney, opened gifts and smiled to know someone out there thought of them with care.

Gaz received a new hat, multiple actually, one that was happily decorated with the word 'Soccer' the same one he would wear to taunt his best mate for some time. Soap received a football signed and dedicated to him from his favourite team and a letter from his family back home. This of course brought the young soldier to tears as he smiled at the letters his mother so lovingly wrote for him. R/N, received a letter as well, written by Laswell, thanking the young soldier for their sacrifice when they helped Laswell in some past operation and then, the small box held a mask, made just for them. "Just like the one I lost." You recall a past operation, losing a mask and also losing part of yourself. "To the memory of the late R/N and here's to the new R/N, may they live forever." The embroidery read.

Ghost, receiving archived photos of his family, tea bags and Kentucky Bourbon. He chuckles as he remembers sharing a drink with Laswell many years ago and how he found himself sharing his life with her and Price. He holds the bottle, staring at it and smiling, someone remembered him. Price laughs, two boxes of cigars, all from the brand he adores and hidden behind a mug that read, "Soccer lover." He groans a laugh and shows it to Gaz who laughs and shows him the cap that was given to him. "Don't dare," Price points a finger only to have Gaz laugh, "I'm not missing a chance to wear this and annoy you." Now, Price has a gift idea for Gaz's birthday.

A knock on the door and when opened, they find Santa herself, wearing a Christmas hat and her wife behind her. "Good morning, hope you are all hungry for some homemade meal?" She shows the large trays of food, made the night before and for this occasion only. Kate's children run around, playing with the young soldiers as Price helps the two ladies with the table. "You didn't have to, Kate." She shakes her head, "Nonsense, you five deserve this and take it as a thank you for what you and the team have done for me." Kate's wife passes by Price, "Trust me, just take the food and eat, she won't take no for an answer."

Kate sighs, "Just eat, trust me, Martha Stewart helped me make this meal." "The book did, honey," Kate's wife corrects her from the kitchen. "What she said." Price chuckles, "Might as well do that." Throughout the cabin, the children ran around, showing off what Santa had brought them the night before to the young soldiers. Gaz and Soap are stuck playing with Nerf guns and the occasional Barbie break. R/N ran around the dining table, chasing the youngest child of Laswell. "Never seen Ghost so…happy and excited," Price mentions as he observes Ghost have a tea party with plushies and the little girl of Laswell.

"I think this is the first time he likes someone else's tea," Price jokingly says and watches Ghost get a fake tiara on his head. The little girl giggles any time Ghost pretends the tea is too hot and he sighs in relief when her younger brother plays doctor and helps Ghost with the pain.

And now, it is safe to say that for the first time in their lives, they have a photograph that celebrates how for a moment, war stopped, smiling all genuinely portrayed and all in Christmas sweaters as the photo was taken. 'Christmas of '23, TF 141 and The Laswells' the photo has written on the bottom. At this moment, is commemorates a new tradition, Christmas dinners at that cabin, where life is peaceful.

To the team, Thank you for your help and support in operations I have given throughout the years. It is my understanding you all will share a cabin this Christmas and in classic fashion, I have sent gifts for you to open the morning of December twenty-fifth. Times haven't been the greatest to you all but I promise that for at least this very moment, you shall be granted time to care for the other. It is also my understanding that you all consider yourself a family, which is why, by the time you read this letter, you'll get a knock on the door by the very family that considers you all a part of their family. And for all that I love, watch your words amongst my kids, all of you.

May you have a merry little Christmas, Kate Laswell.

Tags:

@eicee @loviie-stuff @liyanahelena @cinnamon-cola @sadieesssss @kitschaosden @wrathofcats @johfaam0 @frazie99 @spicypicklesoh @vampsquerade @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @saoirse06 @ikohniik

[shelbgrey]

My MasterList of Stories

Master List part 2

~request are CLOSED

Codes:

Smut=❤️‍🔥 Fluff=💕 Angst=💔 Funny=💖 Horror=🫀

🔬Bones💀

Dr. Lance Sweets:

Smut Alphabet❤️‍🔥

Caught in the act ❤️‍🔥

Dating Lance Sweets HC💕❤️‍🔥

Adventures in babysitting💕

You belong with me💕

Lance Sweets as a Dad headcanons💕

Dream Warriors💔🫀

Bones Halloween Special🫀💖

Code baby Part 1 💕

Let me take your pain away💕💔

Dr. Jack Hodgins:

Can't buy me love💔💕

Jack Hodgins Having a little sister💕

What's it gonna take to get you out of his lab?❤️‍🔥

Agent Seeley Booth:

Dating Seeley Booth Headcanons💕❤️‍🔥

Being Seeley Booth's Best friend HCs💕

Friends to Lovers Headcanons💕

The day we met💕

In the name of love💕

Agent James Aubrey:

Falling in love with James Aubrey after losing Lance 💔💕

Falling in love with James Aubrey after losing Lance Sweets part 2💕❤️‍🔥

Smut Alphabet❤️‍🔥

Unspoken desire❤️‍🔥

Dr. Wendell Bray:

Witchy Squintern HCs💕

Dr. Camille Saroyan:

who broke the coffee pot?💖

The Squinterns:

Adventures in babysitting💕

Being Hodgins sister and being a goth Squintern💕

Dr. Zack Addy:

I've got your back💕

Who's got him smiling like that?💕

❤️‍🩹Grey's Anatomy🩺

Dr. Derek Shephard:

Halloween special💖🫀

Injured💔

The Ballad of Jayne💔

Stuck in the middle💔💕

Stitches💕

This is Why I Don't Go To The Gym💕

Baby on the brain💕

Dating Derek after he broke up with Meredith💕

Love at first sight💕

Dr. Mark Sloan:

November Rain💔

Faithfully💔💕

We are family💕

Christmas Special💖

Dr. Owen Hunt:

Trauma 101💖

Dr. Jackson Avery:

Love Story💔💕

Dr. Alex Karev:

Heaven💔

Dr. Miranda Bailey:

Your my favorite💕

Dr. Nick Marsh:

Secrets out💕

🗡️Once upon a time🍎

August W. Booth:

Hidden secrets❤️‍🔥💕💔

Killian Jones:

Smut fic with Killan Jones❤️‍🔥

Prince James:

Hysteria💔💕

🩸Twilight🌲

Cullen family:

Fire safty💖

Going to the zoo💖

Cats in the cradle💕

Being Carlisle and Esme's daughter and having the Volturi wrap around your finger. 💖💕

Cullens:

Emmett McCarthy Cullen:

Next to me series💖💔💕❤️‍🔥

Forever now💕

Being Emmett and Rose's daughter HCs💕

Carlisle Cullen:

Being Carlisle and Esme's youngest daughter HC💕

Carlisle as your husband HCs💕

Jasper Whitlock Hale:

Jasper dating Bella's sister HCs💕

Edward Anthony Mason Cullen:

Dating Edward Cullen HCs💕

Crushing on Edward Cullen HCs💕

Rosalie Lillian Hale:

Being Emmett and Rose's daughter HCs💕

Denalis:

Eleazar Denali:

Glory of love series ❤️‍🔥💕💔💖

Dating Eleazar HCs❤️‍🔥💕

Garrett:

Voice of an Angel💔💕

Being Carlisle and Esme's youngest daughter and dating Garrett HCs💕

Wolf pack:

Seth Clearwater:

Perfect 💕

Volturi:

The Volturi:

Being Carlisle and Esme's youngest daughter and having the Volturi wrap around your finger💕

🧫Ghostbusters👻

Peter Venkman:

When unspoken rules are broken💔💕

Dr. Egon Spengler:

Hold on, I love you💔

Two Nerds falling in love headcanons💕

Ray stantz:

Dr. Jelousey❤️‍🔥

Something strange💕💔

🦁🐍Harry Potter🐦‍⬛🦡

Draco Malfoy:

Say Something💔

Dance the night away💕

Just keeping an eye out💕

The truth doesn't always hurt💔💕

George Weasley:

Welocm to Gryffindor💔💕

You belong with me - part 1💔💕

Fred Weasley:

Being a Potter twin and falling for Fred💕

Neville Longbottom:

Your Breaking My Heart💔

Weasley family:

Being adopted by the Weasleys💕

⚔️Supernatural🌘

Gabriel "the Trickster":

Gardian Angel💕

Hyper girl💕

The Winchester and the Trickster💕

Love of a lifetime💔

Dean winchester:

Dating Dean Winchester Headcanons💕❤️‍🔥

Castiel:

Being in a love triangle with Dean and Cas💕💔

🎶Elvis Presley🎸

Austin!Elvis Presley:

Love me tender💔💕

💥Marvel🦸

Scott "Cyclops" Summers:

Dating Scott Summers💕❤️‍🔥

A not so White Wedding💕

Clint "Hawkeye" Barton:

Secrets out💖

Whatever it takes💔💕

Tony "Iron man" Stark:

All of me💔💕

Bucky "winter soldier" Barnes:

Treat you better💔💕

Howard Stark:

Time In A Bottle💕

Dr. Stephen Strange:

I won't say I'm in love💔💕

Avengers:

Ohana means family💕

Six avengers and a baby💔💕

[intrepidacious]

masterlist – b. barnes

KEY: ♡ personal favourite | ✧ new additions

please note that my blog is rated 18+, minors dni or you will be blocked <3

✩ series

time after time [ongoing] ♡ ↳ time loops ; post tfatws ; angst with a happy ending | 60k+

After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.

✩ one shots

insomnia ↳ fluff ; sharing a bed | 1.5k

It’s 5am, and for some reason, you just can’t fall asleep.

first date, last night ♡ ↳ 40s!bucky ; neighbors ; mutual pining | 5.5k

You were supposed to go on a date tonight, but Bucky just had to interfere. It doesn't make any sense, either. It's not like there's anything going on between the two of you.

baby, it's bad out there ↳ set during hawkeye | 9.8k

Your best friend Kate has always been good at attracting trouble and this time, it’s starting to become your problem, too. Then again, what’s Christmas in New York City without meet-cutes and gunfire?

not even a little ↳ modern au ; roommates | 5.7k

The problem of living with Bucky is that he makes it impossible not to fall in love with him. Even though you could list several hundred reasons why it's a bad idea. And you have.

heal me, baby ↳ nurse!reader ; hurt/comfort | 2.6k

Your friendship starts with you cleaning up his wounds and Bucky paying to get the blood stains out of your couch. Something else starts, too.

set me free ♡ ↳ 40s! bucky ; little mermaid retelling | 6.4k

Once upon a time, a soldier fell from a train. Thankfully, this time, he is found by gentle hands, and a beautiful voice keeps him safe from the cold.

↳ sequel headcanon: being understood

blind roads ↳ bonnie and clyde au ; implied smut ; fluff and angst | 4.4k

"I'm James Bucky Barnes. This is my charming fiancée. We rob banks." (or, the Bonnie and Clyde AU literally no one asked for.)

↳ bonus drabble: no plan b

every dream gone ↳ pure unadulterated angst ; canon-compliant | 3.2k

After the events of Winter Soldier, Bucky slowly realizes just how much he lost after his fall.

↳ bonus drabble: homecoming

almost believing ↳ friends to lovers ; fake dating for a mission | 5.4k

You and Bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. That doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.

a million summers ↳ college au ; childhood friends to lovers | 3k

Something shifts between you and Bucky when he comes back home from college.

✩ drabbles, blurbs and more

seven sentence drabbles (masterlist)

headcanons (masterlist)

moodboards (masterlist)

✩ return to main masterlist ✩

[ghostgorlsworld]

Johnny Boy (Part 7)

Werewolf! Johnny x reader

part one is here

Once upon a time, you would've done anything for John Mctavish. He had been your older brother's cool best friend, and you were always desperate for him to see you as more--until one fateful night that ends up with you pregnant and him...gone. Fast forward six years and you've made a good life for yourself with your daughter Emma, with Johnny none the wiser. Until he decides to knock on your door.

Notes--Johnny is showing his true colors so the story is definitely getting a little darker.

You woke up hungover and embarrassed. 

You were old enough to know better and a mother for Christ’s sake–by all means too old to be making idiotic decisions that could shake the life you had spent over half a decade building. You could hardly remember what had led up to Johnny doing…the thing that he did, but you were sure you didn’t exactly put up a fight.

Tommy walked Emma back to your house shortly after seven, dressed for work. He pulled the makings of breakfast from the fridge, grumbling some nonsense about two full-grown wolf-soldiers eating him out of house and home. You were trying very hard not to do your walk of shame, refusing to look at the chair or the leftover pizza in the fridge. Emma, of course, was none the wiser, curling up in your lap to nuzzle at your face. 

“Did you have fun?” You asked, inspecting her for signs staying up too late. 

Emma nodded, beginning a long play-by-play of the previous night’s events, including a humorous addition of her forcing Simon to teach her card games. “We had ice cream after dinner,” she said, whispering it so Tommy wouldn’t hear. “Uncle Tom told me not to tell you.” 

Emma couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. You laughed and tickled her sensitive feet.

You couldn’t believe you had been so weak to let Johnny back in again. You couldn’t trust him, no matter what he said about his reasons for disappearing, and adding sex to the equation could only make things even worse.

“Johnny was out late last night,” Tommy said casually, cracking an egg into a pan. “He left after Emma went to bed.”

You couldn’t help but glance at the chair, trying very hard not to remember Johnny’s voice, wrecked and commanding, or his hands, or his tongue-

“I had an early night,” you said. “Charlie called for a raincheck.”

“Mm,” Tom said. “Scrambled?” You nodded, not missing Emma’s curious look. She really was too smart for her own good. 

The weekend passed uneventfully–you avoided Johnny by packing up Emma and spending a day in the city, finishing up your Christmas shopping in the shiny shops and taking Emma ice skating in the square. He called you once, but you quickly put Emma on the phone, your stomach aching just at the thought of talking to him.

Emma picked out a pair of red and white striped socks and a box of legos as a gift for her father. She was pleased with her choices, and you tried your very best to smile when she displayed them to you.

Johnny wasn’t even going to be around for Christmas, and that was something you needed to discuss with him. Your little girl couldn’t survive off of no letters or calls–after all, it nearly killed you. 

Monday comes with the first real snowfall of the year. You dressed in warm layers, sweaters and soft scarves, Emma’s face pink under the winter jacket you had strapped her in. 

Charlie was sitting by your desk at work, two cups of coffee in hand and your favorite pastry in front of your chair. He smiled as you unwound the scarf from your neck, looking appropriately guilty and embarrassed. “I wanted to apologize,” he said, passing you the coffee. “I…it was a dick move. I had a few already and confused the days–I er, I tried to call you in the morning when I had come to my senses but you didn’t answer.”

Honestly, you had forgotten about it completely. You raised a brow at the man. “I took Emma to the city for Christmas shopping. We were busy.” Charlie nodded. “Yeah, of course, it’s the holidays. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry, I feel like I’ve fucked things up.”

You searched around for anger, or even mild irritation, but it was gone, used up entirely by Johnny. “It’s alright, Charlie, thanks for the coffee.” Charlie smiled again, relieved. You took a seat at your desk and listened to him chatter about drama with Chris and Jan at the copying machine. 

You watched his hands. They were good hands–man hands, if you will, pale hair on his knuckles and a silver ring on his thumb. Johnny’s hands were wide and thick with dark hair, his nail beds always worn raw from the shift from stubby human nails to sharp claws. 

Why were you comparing? What was wrong with you?

Why couldn’t you just let sleeping dogs lie?

Charlie claimed your attention once more, following you to the carts of books that needed shelves. “I was wondering…I know I’ve acted like a right bastard, but I was thinking I could make it up to you. How does dinner tomorrow sound? I’ll make the food and supply the wine, you just bring yourself.”

You wanted to say no. That meant that you would have to see if Julienne would keep Emma for a few more hours, not to mention your attraction to Charlie had taken a nose-dive when he ditched you the first time. If only your body held all men accountable–your issue with Johnny would be solved overnight.

That was the thing that made you consider it. Johnny. He was your kryptonite, your achilles heel, and you needed to burn his touch off your skin.

“Alright,” you said. “If I can get a sitter for the bear.” “Deal,” Charlie said, grinning. He kissed your cheek gently, mouth warm and chapped.

Johnny texted the next morning, asking if he could take you and Emma out to lunch on your break. He offered to drop her off at Juliene’s house as well, saving you the walk.

You needed to rip the bandaid off. He wasn’t going to stay away forever, and it didn’t matter he had eaten you out while you were very sad and very drunk, you couldn’t keep him away from Emma. 

“Em, do you want to see Johnny today?” You asked, hoping against hope she would shake her head.

Instead, your darling girl perked up, ears twitching as she nodded eagerly. The full moon was coming quickly, so her behavior was…off, her eyes growing brighter by the day. Johnny used to refuse to be around you on the week of the full moon. He disappeared from your house and would show back up a few days later, looking exhausted and on edge, twitching if you tried to touch him.

You sighed. 

Where should we meet you? 

Johnny’s reply was lightning quick. You still like Angelo’s?

Angelo’s was a sandwich shop you used to frequent with Johnny, you hadn’t been in ages. That’s fine.

Johnny texted back something enthusiastic and barely legible.

Julienne had agreed to watch Emma for a couple more hours without irritation, saying she could use the money for a fancy new garden gadget she had been eyeing. You planned on grabbing it for her for Christmas, a token of your appreciation for her help with Emma.

You were going to give Charlie one last chance, if this dinner didn’t pan out you would find some other patsy to take you out every other weekend. 

Johnny was going to be gone soon, after all, and Emma is unpredictable with these things. She could take it as easily as she took the death of her grandfather, or it could be…catastrophic. 

You eyed your phone, forcing yourself to do the hard thing that neither of you wanted to face. 

I was hoping you would talk to Emma about you leaving soon.

There. You said it. You tossed your phone on the bed and finished getting dressed, herding Emma to school before you forced yourself to look at his response.

Of course, hen, we’ll talk about it. 

Work went by quickly in your haze of anxiety. What would he say to Emma?

What would he say to you?

You didn’t expect him to be waiting at Emma’s school. He was leaning against his truck, all twinkly blue eyes and a sharp smile that reminded you that he left for you. Because he couldn’t control himself. 

Johnny was trying to be good. You see it now, you remembered the way he used to follow you home after school, walking close behind you like he thought someone was going to steal you away. He wouldn’t share food with anyone, not even Tom, but if you asked he would always tear whatever it was in half and put it on your plate. 

Johnny and Tom had been playing video games in the living room when you left for your first date. You were sixteen and he had just hit twenty one, and he had looked at poor Dan Hilton like he wanted to rip out his guts and serve them up with eggs.

You had chalked it up to brotherly feelings, or the simple fact that Johnny has never liked to share. 

To see it for what it was felt…odd. You had heard about wolves claiming human spouses, putting a bite on their throat like a wedding band and never, ever letting go.

“Hey,” you said tiredly. 

Johnny straightened–he wanted a hug, you could see it in the way his hands twitched. “I figured I would give the two of ye a ride, yeah? It’s fuckin’ freezin’ today.” “Alright,” you said, glancing at your phone. The bell should be ringing any minute, and Johnny’s attention would be on Emma and not you. His attention was dangerous, it made you stupid and reckless.

“I heard you’ve got a hot date tonight,” Johnny said, going straight for the jugular.  

You stiffened. “That’s none of your business.” “Ach, lass, you wound me.”

“Johnny, the other night…it was a mistake. I was drunk and lonely and you were there.” You didn’t think it was possible to hurt Johnny, but you did. It flashed across his eyes, his jaw tightening into a straight line. 

You felt your stomach twist–god you were handling this all wrong-

He took a step, tilting your chin up with the pad of his rough finger. He wanted you to look at him, to watch his pupils swallow up the bright blue of his eyes. “I’m not a good man, kitty. Hell, I’m not even a man, not really. I know I’ve hurt you, and I’ll repent every fuckin’ day for it, but if you let him touch you, I’ll gut him like a goddamn fish.” “How dare you-” you began, but Johnny gripped your chin then, pressing the tips of his claws into your skin lightly. “You want me,” Johnny said, his gaze hazy and wild as it dropped to your mouth. “Even now. I should bite you right here, make it real fucking simple for you.”

There it was–the wolf that he had hidden from you for so long, the killer wearing the skin of your brother’s best friend. You forced yourself to hold his stare, feeling the sharp prick of his claws on the delicate skin of your throat. 

“I want a proper husband, John,” you said softly. “I want a real father for my child, someone who will be there for the birthdays and graduations and holidays. I want someone to sleep beside me every night, someone that doesn’t make me do this alone.”

You knew you were driving a knife right between his ribs–you knew how badly this would hurt him. Johnny had spent his childhood not being right for his mother, not being human enough, gentle enough. 

His eyes were so bright and so lost. 

“I’ve been alone for six years, John. I don’t ever want Emma to know what that feels like.”

Johnny was silent, his breath coming fast and rough. “I’ll never let another man have you,” he rasped. “You’re mine. Both of you.” 

He pressed closer, nuzzling your jaw with a low growl. “I’ll be a good mate, hen, I suppose it’s only right that I prove myself before we have our next pup.”

“No!” You hissed, pushing him away. “Enough, Johnny. You’ll be gone soon and I’ll have to deal with the fallout as per fucking usual.”

Your words weren’t working–they were working him up instead, like Emma when she watched the neighbor’s squirrels chase each other in the trees. His heart thudded like a drum under your palm. 

“You’re making a scene, kitty,” he said slyly, tilting his head like he wanted nothing more than to give chase. “Now hush, we’ll talk about this later. Emma shouldn’t see Mum and Dad argue.” You opened your mouth to argue, so furious you could hardly think.  

“Mum?” Emma sang, bouncing out of the school. “Oh, Johnny!” She ran to him, the little traitor. Johnny smiled, his sharp edges softening as he swung her up into his arms. “Ach, my girl’s getting heavy,” he teased, nuzzling her face. She mimicked his movements, her smile bright and happy–they were scenting each other. 

You looked away. “C’mon you two,” you said, forcing your tone to lighten. “I only have an hour for lunch.”

You barely touch your food, your stomach twisting and turning in furious knots. A sandwich, your old favorite, sits in front of you, courtesy of Johnny.

The audacity of men. You were the one who had spent countless nights bouncing up and down the hallway with Emma in your arms, exhausted and sore, your breasts swollen and aching from her sharp teeth–yet, Johnny was quickly a new favorite. They were the same, after all, the same species, the same aggressive, needy temperament.

Johnny wiped a bit of mustard from Emma’s cheek, humming at her irritated whine. She was close to her shift, and her skin was sensitive. “Dinna fash, baby, it’s the moon,” he crooned, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head. “I woke up this morning w’my skin crawling.”

That was another bump in the road. Emma’s shifts had gotten harder and harder over the years, more anger, more pain, and the internet had barely any information about early childhood shifts. Jack hadn’t been concerned, saying Johnny had the same issues at that age–the only difference was that Johnny was a feral little thing that used to sneak out during the full moon and pick off the strays of London. Emma couldn’t bring herself to squash an ant, much less devour a cat or dog–but then Johnny hadn’t had much human influence, at least, not until you and Tommy. 

“Emma, tell your Ma that if she doesn’t eat, we’ll have to feed her ourselves,” Johnny said. He was smiling, but his eyes were sharp. 

Emma sniffed at your sandwich. “You didn’t have breakfast either, Mum,” she said accusingly. “You always tell me food is good for your brain.”

You cocked an eyebrow at her. “Maybe I’m not hungry.”

“Eat, kitty,” Johnny said, his tone rougher as if you were one of his soldiers. “You look dead on yer feet.” You took a bite, just to appease them. You could still feel the small, stinging cuts his claws had scraped on your jaw. 

[icycoldninja]

Fluffcember #24 (Soldier boys x reader)

SOLDIER boys spending Christmas with their S/O

♡Sephiroth♡

-Sephy is surprisingly well versed with Christmas traditions, unlike how he is with Thanksgiving, though being a SOLDIER means he doesn't get many chances to take time off and really celebrate.

-Knows all about decking the halls, decorating Christmas trees, exchanging gifts and so on, but has only really ever gotten gifts (from Genesis and Angeal) and has never had a place of his own to decorate; the SOLDIER barracks were too small and too overcrowded with weapons for him to put up a tree.

-It is therefore your responsibility to teach him how to untangle those annoying knots that somehow always form in the Christmas lights no matter how carefully you store them. Once you give him a task, he is surprisingly proficient at it. The man managed to untangle 100 feet of Christmas lights in under 4 hours. He was very proud about it and puffed his chest out pridefully when you praised him for his good work.

-When it comes time to cook the Christmas dinner, he insists upon helping you, much like an exuberant 3 year old, and refuses to leave the kitchen until you assign him a task. Should you choose to ignore him, he will stand there in the corner and stare at you until you get so distracted and uncomfortable, you've no choice but to give him something to do, even if it's something as simple as stirring sauce or holding a tray for you.

-He's tall enough to put the star on the tree (and is probably taller than the tree itself) without a ladder. Consequently, he is now in charge of hanging the mistletoe--a power that he is abusing.

-He purposefully hangs the mistletoe under doorways and other places you're likely to stand under, just so he has an excuse to steal kisses from you.

◇Genesis◇

-To Genesis, Christmas is all about getting things and getting drunk. He has no festive spirit; he just wants to laze around, drinking all the time until it's time to open presents--and he expects lots of expensive stuff. (It's not his fault, the poor boy just wasn't loved enough)

-This dude is like Scrooge; all he cares about are things. That is why it is your duty to show him the true meaning of Christmas. Explain to him why decorating the tree is important; why you give each other gifts, and how price isn't everything--that it's the thought that counts.

-He will soon grow to enjoy Christmas traditions, specifically listening to Mariah Carey songs and helping you ice cookies. Bro may not be good at cooking or baking from scratch, but he's very talented in terms of food art. He can turn plain sugar-cookie shapes into gorgeous works of art.

-Will definitely do his makeup in Christmasy colors (red, gold, green), paint his nails to match the occasion, and wear a skintight Santa suit around the house during the entirety of Christmas day.

-When Christmas Day rolls around, he puts a bright pink bow in his hair, wears literally naught but red ribbons, and waltzes into your bedroom, declaring that he couldn't find anything you'd like, so he decided to gift you himself.

-That was a lie, of course. Not only did he give you himself for Christmas, he got you a selection of fashionable clothes so you can "dress as a Goddess should: elegantly".

♧Angeal♧

-This one knows everything, from how to properly baste a turkey to exactly where to drill a hole for the Christmas lights. Because of this skill, and his honor, Angeal can often be found outside on the roof during the entirety of Christmas Eve morning, hanging Christmas lights on the trim.

-Will definitely help you cook, bake, frost, ice, whatever you need, he'll help you with it.

-Loves classic Christmas songs like the Burl Ives Christmas songs, Frosty the Snowman, etc.

-Loves curling up with you on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn and just watching movies till like 4:00 A.M.

-Angeal is living proof that you're never too old for Santa--he bakes cookies and leaves a plate out one the counter with a glass of milk, and puts a bunch of carrots on the driveway.

-Also dresses up as a reindeer and walks in hoof shaped slippers, a whole-ass carrot stuffed halfway in his mouth.

[tessatales]

The Sins of the Winter Soldier Chapter 5

Pairing: Bucky x FReader

Theme: waking after a seizure

Warnings: none really, this is a calmer chapter than the last 😂

A/N: Hey! Sorry i disappeared- Christmas and all that jazz 🤷🏻‍♀️ Here’s the next part! I hope you enjoy ☺️ (if tone/tense is off I’m sorry! I struggled with this chapter for some reason)

Tags: @scott-loki-barnes @kandis-mom @identity2212

Chapter 5

Your eyes felt like lead weights as you tried to pry them open, hesitating only when the copper in your mouth made itself known. It was a putrid taste you’d never got used to in the years you’d been held by Hydra. And their training and torture had only made you hate the tang more. Knowing what came next, you reached blindly for a drink, keeping yours eyes shut tight as you tried your best to keep the impending headache at bay.

“Whoa there kid, what do you need?” Tony’s voice came all to loud in your sensitive ears.

“Water. And less shouting” You groaned as you continued to paw the air until a cold glass pressed itself into your hand.

Bringing the glass to your lips, you drank greedily as you felt the cool liquid wash the headache away. Once you were sure it was safe, you opened your eyes, each one feeling heavier than they should.

“Hey there, how are you feeling” Steve said as he came into focus.

Much to your dismay, everyone was in the medical bay you occupied. Each Avenger seeming to look more concerned than the next.

Guilt hit you hard as you looked at each face, the tiredness and worry seeming to age them all. Slowly, you sat up, allowing the help that came your way as you wiggled your way up the bed.

“What happened? How long have I been out?”

“About 12 hours-” Natasha answered as she rested a new pillow behind you.

“And we were hoping you could tell us what happened” Sam said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, his usual happy go lucky demeanour absent. You frowned, wondering what you could of done that warranted so much concern.

“You controlled your power” Wanda said as she rounded your bed, the team shifting in the small room to allow her past.

I did? You ask in your mind, reaching for the Witch as she settled next to you. Wanda nods, a small, prideful smile gracing her lips.

“You took the book from Dr Spellman and suspended it in a forcefield I can’t even access” Wanda continued out loud, her expression bright as she squeezed your hand lightly.

“It was only a matter of time before the apprentice became the master” You joked, smiling at the Witch.

“Can you remember anything at all? Maybe how you controlled the magic?” Wanda asked, leaning to sit beside you on the medical bed.

Thinking back to before the surge felt like trudging through quick drying cement, each mental step feeling harder and heavier as you tried to remember.

“I remember hearing Bucky-”

Saying his name out loud snapped you out of your memories, your focus razor sharp as you bolted from the bed.

“Whoa there! Where are you going in such a hurry” Steve said with raised hands, his tone lighter than the look on his face. You quickly dodged him though, ignoring your lack of shoes as you began to race down the corridor.

“I need to know he’s alright!” You shouted at the bewildered group as you left, your steps never slowing even when you heard the raised voices of the medical staff you passed.

- - - - - -

You only noticed you’d been changed into your pyjamas when you skid to a stop outside the Pit, the baggy flannel top and shorts allowing the cold of the underground floors to seep into your bones. With a shiver, you activate the door, watching with bated breath as the metal slid open.

Bucky was sat on his bed, his elbow on his knee and his head in his hand as if the weight of the world rested upon him.

To your relief, there was no sign of the chair or robotic arms that had held him only hours before, and due to the serum coursing through his veins, the bloody and bruised marks on his wrists were nearly completely healed.

“Hey” You said softly as you walked the final steps onto the observation deck.

Bucky moved like he’d been shocked, his whole body shooting from the sitting position he was in. Before you could comprehend it, he’d eaten up the space between you, his body now merely inches from the force field that kept you apart.

“I’m alright.” You confessed with a smile, watching as he seemed to asses you from head to toe. You weren’t sure, but it looked as if Bucky was almost blushing as he took in your bare legs.

“Cold?” Bucky asked, his voice rough. You laughed, pulling the flannel tighter around yourself as you spoke.

“Yeah, I didn’t realised I’d been changed into my pyjamas before coming down here. I’ll be fine though” You replied, watching as his eyebrows knit together.

“Anyway, I should be asking you if you’re okay.” You said with mock scorn, hiding your hands in the extra large sleeves of your flannel as you looked around his cell. Bucky waved off your concern, rubbing his wrist against his stomach almost subconsciously before showing you the yellowing bruises.

“Had worse” Bucky replied simply, his voice becoming stronger the more he spoke. Without meaning to however, you flinched, the thought of him experiencing worse making your stomach roll with nausea.

“Sorry” Bucky said in a whisper, his eyes dark as he watched you. You shook your head, trying your best to shake off the images in your head.

“What’s with the outfits? Is this the next step in your recovery?” You ask with a fake smile, trying to lighten the mood as you gesture towards the pile of clothes beside his bed. Bucky nodded, looking between himself and the pile in question.

“Why haven’t you changed yet? Can’t decide?” You continue, thinking out loud as you look at the pile of clothes again. Bucky nodded, his expression almost lost as he gazed at the bundle of clothes.

“There’s a pretty cool flannel in there. We could match. Plus it would look nice with the red t-shirt and those jeans” You say after a moment, gesturing to the clothes in question as he continued to stare.

“Then again, I might want to steal it once you’re out of there. So wear at your own risk” You threaten with a laugh, the sound dying on your lips as he looked at you suddenly. The emotion swirling in his eyes killing the words on your tongue.

“I wouldn’t mind” Bucky replied on an exhale, the sound so quiet you almost missed it. Feelings began to tug in your stomach as you stared at the former Winter Soldier. The only indication he was as rattled as you being the movement of his Adam’s Apple as he swallowed.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got four very angry doctors ripping the very fragile egos of the Avengers apart upstairs because we let their patient run straight past us” Bruce said with a smirk, shooting a glance behind him as he wandered into the room.

“Blanket?” Bucky asked, no longer looking at you as he directs the single word question at Bruce. You frowned, wondering why he’d need a blanket when he has plenty in his cell.

Understanding comes quickly when a thick grey throw is draped over your shoulders, the front being tightly secured around you by the scientist.

“He’s right, you’re shivering.” Bruce answered your silent question and you take notice for the first time the lack of feeling in your legs from the cold.

“Why is it so cold down here?” You ask through now chattering teeth, taking hold of the blanket now as you acknowledge the cold.

“We’re that far underground it’s impossible to warm the whole room, so we just heat the cells and the surrounding deck. But the decks currently offline.” Bruce replied with a half shrug, his other arm around you as he attempted to rub some warmth into you.

“Come on, before someone else’s ego gets bruised, Sam looked like he was about to cry when I left” Bruce joked, turning you towards the exit.

“I guess I’ll see you later” You say to Bucky as Bruce guided you away, his arm loose against you as you walked. Bucky nodded, his face half shadowed as he raised his hand to wave.

*Bucky’s POV*

Bucky tired his best to beat the unfamiliar feeling down as he watched the scientist guide Y/N away. His arm draped loosely over the woman’s small frame causing something inside Bucky to churn with raw emotion he didn’t want to identify.

He was not jealous.

He couldn’t be.

He didn’t deserve to be at least.

“Monsters don’t get happy endings”

Chapter six can be found here

[zestydistress]

•°∆Looney Tunes Marvin the Martian headcanons∆°•

My brain is fucked, so I'm writing Marvin the Martian lore late at night. I'm forcing you to read my headcanons.

MARTIAN HEADCANONS

Words for a Martian child (and/or like- daughter or son or something): neonate, scion, larva, pupa, bairn, fledgling, successor, stock, begat, brood, young, hatch, posterity, spawn, progeny, sprog, raise, and xerox. (Xerox is very frowned upon, and you would be scrutinized if you refered to a scion, or any martian, as a xerox.)

Words for a martian "parent": guardian, forebear, roots, engender, begetter, wellspring, watch, exemplar, sire. (Sire is also frowned upon.)

Words for a Martian "sibling": issue, kin, rings, latches, gilds, heir, stock, cognate.

Most martians have a biological need to take care of their own kind. Larva specifically. And it has become law on Mars that once a martian who lives on Mars reaches 1,000 years old they must take in a larva as a progeny and raise it.

Neonates are born from martians, the same as all creatures, but not in the way you think. Martians asexually reproduce, but only during death. As the final stage of death, instead of decomposition, a new martian is born from their ashes and is taken to "The Stock Center" whenever found. (The stock center is essentially an orphanage.)

Larva are not copies of their predecessors, they often hardly ever have anything in common with their source. What mostly affect a pupa's mind and body is their environment. This is why calling a martian a "xerox" is scrutinized and offensive. A xerox is a clone. A copy. They are not copies. Martians don't have blood relatives at all. I put parent and siblings in quotes when saying the word meanings because that's not really what they are.

There are many neonates in the stock center, because that is where every martian "child" goes as soon as someone finds them. There are too many, which is why it is mandatory. Martians don't have children nor parents, but what they've made is close.

The stock center is like an orphanage, but doesn't function like one. Instead of the "parent" picking a child, the Larvae(baby-ish -> child-ish) and Pupae(preteen-ish -> teen-ish) pick their guardian themselves.

Martians who work for/have worked for the monarch wear articles of clothing similar to that of Mars: the Roman God of War. It is known to bring them good fortune and prosperity in their battles. The first time martians had invaded earth was in Rome, and they had taken to the clothing and culture quickly, quite a few even stayed to just study the earthlings. (I had learned that Marvin's helmet and skirt were based off of Mars, the Roman God of War. I knew his outfit was roman inspired, but I didn't realize it was because of the MARS GOD.)

What always bugs me about how Marvin is sometimes portrayed: he celebrates earth holidays, specifically Christmas is what I see most of. But he wouldn't. I mean he might have started to celebrate with others because he's been on earth, but he would not want to go home to mars for Christmas because he does not have holidays. So:

Martians don’t celebrate earth holidays or anything(Though Marvin does like to attend the occasional holiday party, just to catch up with his enemies and study traditions of earthlings.), but they do have celebrations on certain dates. The Forebears(The day where the scion chose their roots, it is celebrated every year, like a birthday), Spawn Raise(an informal term for The Forebears), Emor(Their first attack to Earth, martians soon learnt after this first attack that most earthlings write from left to right), Revital(A week off of duties, 4 times a year, it differs from everyone when it will be depending on their job, and obviously things will change for legionaries, auxiliaries, velites, hoplites and other soldiers, but it is a mandated honoring), and more that I have yet to come up with. These "Holidays" are called Honorings on Mars.

Martian gender/sex. Doesn't exist. They don't have sexes or gender. They're more like bees, there's always a queen, workers and drones. The "drones" are called Roman soldiers(will give a list of types of Roman soldiers later, and that will be what everyone is called depending on what the drones do.) Drones protect the queen and carry out their bidding. Then there's workers, those are ones who are sent out to gather recourses and information. Workers are called proles. Martian's bodies have nothing to do with gender, their forms slightly mimic their guardians as they are larva. It's only slightly though, and then their body grows on its own without mimicking their watch. Most martians are smaller, like Marvin, but many are still quite tall, like the queen. And how drones & proles are chosen, it is completely up to the queen. A variety of martians even bounce from drones and proles if it is necessary. Also, all martians use any pronouns. They don't even use pronouns, they simply call them by rank or name, I just use pronouns for ease and so that you understand who I mean-

Proles often keep "pets," to help them with retrievals.

(A Roman soldier could be called: A legionary, if he was a Roman citizen and an elite soldier who served for at least 25 years.(make that 2,500 years.) An auxiliary, if he was a non-citizen recruit or conscript who served for less pay and often in more dangerous roles. A velite, if he was a light infantryman armed with darts and a wooden shaft. A hoplite, if he was a heavily armed spearman. A specific name based on his function, such as accensus, actuarius, adiutor, aeneator, or agrimensor. Will probably work on these more, as I've gotten them straight from Google.)

MARVIN/X-2/MARCIA/MELVIN HEADCANONS

Marvin is over 2,000 years old(this is canon)

He has 2 larvae, Melvin (eldest) and Marcia(youngest).

Marvin is a prole who was ordered to work as a drone due to the wars, therefore earning his uniform. He returned to being a prole after the wars. X-2 has and always will be a drone. Marcia will be a prole when she grows up, and Melvin won't have a proper role in Mars, as he decided to do what very few Martians do: go out on his own before being given his rank.

Marvin did not choose to keep K-9, he followed him into his spaceship when he was a pup. Marvin has been taking care of him since he was 457.

Melvin had requested immediately upon becoming 550 years old, that he be allowed on his own to explore, and Marvin was hesitant, but eventually agreed, IF! Melvin and him built the rocket he uses together, and Melvin would have never turned that down, after-all, he wanted to be just like his begetter so why would he not want to spend time with him? (I don't know anything about Melvin, I haven't seen loonatics unleashed)

Melvin joined Marvin to see who would be his cognate, and y’know, watch the process. He still feels he’s far too young to become an engender, despite being roughly the same age as his own, so he was content with watching the process and watching his heir, Marcia, and his progenitor, connect.

Marcia is very different from Melvin and Marvin, but they adore her either way. She doesn't care for needless destruction, but she does see the art in what Marvin does, and finds it entertaining to watch him and “Duck Dodgers” fight on the rare occasion. They are very funny, and she likes how Marvin shows off his weapons.

X-2 has ran into Marvin once. They stared at each other in confusion for a minute before carrying on their way, some martians look very, very similar, and it can be disorienting at first but you get over it.

Duck Dodgers often confuses Marvin and X-2, and the Martians don't really tell him their different because they don't know that he doesn't know. He figures it out one time when he's fighting X-2 and calls him Marvin.

Marcia loves earthlings and longs to study everything about them and their planet, she got this from reading Marvin's old notes on his findings on earth before seeking to explode it. She asks him to take her down there and show her the world, and he begrudgingly agrees. He doesn't like being on earth after the few bad things that happened the times he were on earth, but he'd do anything for his spawn.

Marcia often wears earthling clothes, and tries to play the games they took from earth but you can't really play baseball without gravity. Cards were more fun, though!

Marvin is called Antwerp by friends, and enemies trying to anger him.

You ever go insane late at night and create culture for martians in looney tunes? I'm n o t okay-

[pianokantzart]

I lied. You get THREE chapters of my original story (about 4k words under the cut):

Chapter 1.

Once upon a time there was an old couple that lived in a cottage on the furthest edge of their isolated village within a stones throw of an ancient forest. Behind their home they grew a patch of cabbages they gathered and sold in the fall, and in their front yard they tended a garden of flowers that they cut and sold in the spring. To make ends meet Escrit, the man of the house, worked as a woodcarver while his wife, Realia, worked as a seamstress, spending many an hour repairing, patching, and embroidering whatever was handed to her. When time allowed Escrit and Realia combined their talents to create the most beautiful little toys; for they were without child, and had longed for one since the day they were wed.

Dollhouses, rocking horses, pull toys, tiny sailboats, wooden soldiers, and all sorts of lovingly crafted treasures were stacked high in an unused bedroom, kept clean and carefully dusted in ever-present hope. Many visitors observed the toys with great admiration, sometimes wishing to buy them, but the old couple were loath to part with their creations. Only at Christmas did they make an exception, when they handed out toys to the poorer village children.

As time wore on, Realia took up the habit of placing dolls they made in the window sill, each dressed in their most beautiful gowns so that passersby may note her sewing skills and commission her. One morning Realia awoke to find one of the little dolls robbed of a pretty yellow sundress, and upon examining the doll she was surprised to discover a lovely scarlet ribbon had been tied around her golden hair of straw. 

Confused, but pleased to be in possession of such a pretty little ribbon in such a rare and vibrant color, the old woman redressed the doll and placed it back on the window sill while dropping the glittering gift in her own pocket. The next morning two more dolls were stripped of their clothes, one with a silver chain around their wrist while the other bore miniature golden rings on each of her fingers.

Realia went to Escrit with the gifts in hand. She explained the situation and asked for his thoughts on the matter, for he was a man of the woods, well versed in many strange things.

“No doubt something from the forest has taken a liking to your sewing,” he said, lifting the little crimson ribbon in his calloused fingers, “But I suspect they’re friendly if they pay you out of their own volition. Keep an eye on what dresses they like and try to tailor their tastes. I will leave food upon the table to let them know they are welcome.”

And so Realia stayed up a little later each night, sewing dresses to replace every one that went missing while the woodcarver left little meals in the kitchen. She learned that the mysterious visitors preferred dresses of bright colors, loose and flowing, never touching anything in shades of grey or brown, nor anything with tight corsets or buttoned collars. Meanwhile, Escrit discovered that while buttered toast and cups of brandy were only lightly nibbled or sipped, saucers of thick cream and berries were eagerly devoured. Honey proved to be a favorite, and whenever he could get ahold of it he put a little dollop on whatever morsels he left out. 

Little bits of treasure continued to show up on the dolls, while household luck took a turn for the better. The cupboard moths and mice disappeared, and the slugs that they had struggled to keep off their garden seemed to all at once lose their taste for cabbage and violets. All the flowers they had seeded bloomed more vibrantly than ever before, and costumers wondered aloud what rich, dark soil laid beneath their cottage to create such incredible colors.

One fair evening, when the moon was full and a bout of warm weather allowed the old couple to leave their window shutters wide open, Escrit stood in the kitchen pouring a fresh dish of cream while his wife sat in the rocking chair by the fireplace, adding the final stitches to a doll’s pea green apron dress. Suddenly, a great flock of magpies soared in from the open window, carrying behind them a float of bluebells and gardenias upon which sat a beautiful fae. Her grand wings, the points of her ears, and the slight lilt to her eyes gave little doubt to her species, but she was far larger than any fae either of them had ever heard of, standing as tall as a two year old child despite being a grown woman in face and figure.

“Ah! The dressmakers!” The fae declared as her chariot slowed to a halt. She sprung to her feet, and the old couple looked upon her in wide-eyed wonder.

“Who are you?” Escrit asked at length. The fae let out a jolly laugh, laying a pearl-white hand upon her chest. “Me? Me!? Why, I am the queen of the fae! And I suggest you kneel and ask forgiveness for asking stupid questions, before I call upon the birds to pluck out your eyes!”

Despite the violence of the threat, her tone was so jovial that it was hard to tell if she was being sincere. Escrit and his wife knelt anyway, for the suggestion of a royal was rarely something to be disregarded. 

“A thousand pardons,” Realia said with an extra bow of her head, “we just never expected our humble home to be blessed with the presence of a queen.”

“Well you should have! I had no choice, given you continue to make nothing that fits my size.” The fae queen stomped a little bare foot upon the floorboards. “It is not fair! All of my subjects keep appearing before me in adorable little dresses, and yet I have none for myself!”

And so it was. Beneath her little crown of daisies, a gown of chestnut leaves and bluestem grass clung precariously to her body by spiderweb seams. The whole attire– thrown together for sake of formality – was already on the verge of falling apart.

“We never before needed clothes, so none of us know a thing about sewing.” The fae queen explained, “But the moment your dresses were spotted in the window and carried to the fen, my subjects couldn’t talk about anything else, and yet I alone could not have any part of their fun!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t intend for you to feel neglected.” The old seamstress apologized, “I could make something your size if you wish. Just tell me what sort of dress you would like, and I will get to work right away.”

The Fae queen smiled wide, her giant blue eyes shimmering until they almost glowed.

“Oh! My dress must be elegant, yet grandiose! With a long train and a tall collar!” She declared, “It must be a purple so deep that it makes the cornflowers look grey! It must be stitched and embroidered with thread of pure silver, so I may shine as bright as the stars!”

Realia was silent for a moment. She wrung her hands, then spoke again.

“Begging your pardon, your majesty. I would like nothing more than to make you a gown so beautiful, but the only ones who can create purple cloth are the royal dressmakers, and I doubt they would sell the dye to a commoner. Moreover, I have never heard of a workable thread made of pure silver, I don’t even begin to know where to get it or how one would make it!”

But the fairy queen would hear none of it. Giving another stomp, she cried out.

“It must be! It must be! I must have the entire forest enchanted by the beauty, wealth, and purity, represented by my gown. Since it is the beginning of May, I’ll give you until the end of September. Finish by then, and I will happily grant you any wish your heart desires!”

At this, the woodcutter and his wife looked at each other with knowing eyes, silently agreeing on the same desire that had plagued their every waking moment since the day they wed.

“If your are certain you can grant any wish,” Escrit began, “My wife and I have been trying for a child for some time–”

“Oh, that old ask!” The fae queen interrupted with a giggle, waving her hand dismissively. “Yes yes. If you make the dress to my liking, you will have your baby.” 

So it was done. Realia took the fae queen’s measurements while her husband fed the royal magpies from sacks of barley grain. Then, the queen left the way she came in a flutter of sparks, so sudden that the couple may have thought it nothing but a dream had it not been for the piles of petals and feathers she had left on the floor in her wake.

Chapter 2.

When morning broke the next day Escrit dressed in his sturdiest clothes, packed a sack of supplies, gave Realiah a kiss, and set off on his journey with many tears and goodbyes between them. He moved Northward at a hurried pace, and when the sunset fell he set up camp at the roadside and slept deeply until the next day. At dawn he took to the road with an aching back, but marched on through the forest that only grew denser by the time night fell again. On the third day he marched along with a growing homesickness. He spoke with whatever animal crossed his path in hopes of finding company– but the squirrels and sparrows that happened his way dared not linger long at the roadside, bidding him farewell as soon as he said “hello.” At length, Escrit was greatly pleased to come across the lone figure of a man just off the path, gathering firewood in a grassy clearing. “Hello!” Escrit hailed, “How much further to the next town?” 

The stranger stood up and turned to face him. The man was dressed in a robe of goat’s hair, and bore a long untrimmed beard that hung down to his waist. He placed a finger against his lips, signaling his unwillingness to speak, but signed a blessing over Escrit as he walked past. Escrit quickly recognized the man as a hermit, and though it was a great disappointment he dared not talk to him further in honor of his vow of silence.

Later on, Escrit considered the brief glimpse of human life, and decided to veer off of the winding path and forge straight north through the trees, hoping to reconnect to the path further along. But the dense forest was nothing like the open oaks that surrounded his little cottage at home, and the hostile brambles both slowed his steps and twisted him around in all directions. By the time the sun was starting to set Escrit was hopelessly lost.

Forlorn, he sat down upon a fallen log, placed his head in his hands, and wondered what to do.

“You best getta’ move on old one!” Chittered a voice from the canopy. Escrit looked up to see a barn swallow in a nearby tree. “Night’s gettin’ on.” The swallow called, “You best head back to your home before the wolves come ‘round.”

“I would if that were possible.” The Woodcarver admitted, “For the past three nights I have camped by the road where the wolves rarely venture, but I left the path some time back. Now I have no option but to find a safe place to hide myself away until morning.”

The barn swallow curiously cocked her little head.

“Poor, silly man.” She tittered “What took ya’ down that long road to begin with?”

“My wife has been commissioned by the fae queen to make her a dress.” Escrit explained, “Her highness wants a gown of purple fabric, sewn and embroidered with silver thread. There are no such materials where I live, so I am traveling to the capital in hopes of finding everything she needs.”

“Hmm, well, I don’t know anythin’ about fabrics.” The swallow admitted, “but I have nested in the porch ceilin’ of an old hut, and in the window I happen to spot the homeowner spinnin’ silver into spools of thread.”

With that, the barn swallow leapt from its perch and flitted from bow to bow, heading deeper into the woods. “Follow me, traveler, seein’ as I’m heading home anyways,” it called over its shoulder. “That hut should at least serve as a shelter from the wolves.”

Escrit plucked up his pack and hurried after the bird. He weaved through undergrowth, the barn swallow pausing every few moments to allow the old man to catch up until the two broke from the line of trees into a clearing beneath a broad orange sky, where a rickety gate surrounded a swath of land, and at its center sat the promised thatch hut with a jagged, smoking chimney stretching up toward the sky. The barn swallow chirped proudly, then darted forward out of sight to return to her nest. The Woodcarver carefully creaked the gate open. He tiptoed along, wishing to call out to the homeowner, but an innate fear gripped his heart and held his tongue with each new oddity he spied. Every tree within the fence-line was long dead and all covered in frowning poppets, held to the bark by headless pins. The only signs of life were the henbane, hogweed, and nightshade that grew in wild clumps along the path toward the hut, and the black beetles that scuttled about until a wicked cackle rang through the air, followed by a wind that smelled of sulfur and rot. Nearly knocked off of his feet, Escrit looked skyward as a witch rode through the air atop a broomstick. He turned and tried to run, but the enchanted broom overtook him with the speed of lightning, a bony hand plucked him by the shirt collar with a grip of iron, and he was carried through the air and hung up on a long, black tree branch. “Who goes? The devil knows!” The Witch laughed as she dismounted, tickled by the sight of her dangling captive. She sniffed the air with a needly nose, and grimaced a mouth of corn-yellow teeth. “It is neither little boy, nor little girl, but an old man! What good does he serve except as a bit of meat to add to a cooking pot!”

Escrit shook in terror, writhing in his effort to free himself from the tree branch. “Please don’t eat me!” He pled, “I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I am a skilled woodcarver. I will gladly build you whatever you like if you will only spare my life.”

The Witch examined The Woodcarver up and down, her hungry expression pinching into one of thought.

“Ah, then providence brings you to my doorstep!” she said. “Count yourself lucky that your talents are specific to my wishes, or I would make a broth of your bones.” The witch clapped her hands. The branch that held The Woodcarver snapped, dropping him to the ground. Before he could recover himself The Witch took his arm with the speed of a spirit and wrapped a length of thistles around his wrist. The moment the plant’s thorns dug into his skin The Woodcarver felt himself shrink. His teeth shifted and grew, the hair of his body thickened and spread, and next he knew he was no longer a woodcarver at all, but a scraggly beaver.

“What is this?” Escrit asked, looking himself over with wide eyes. “What good can I be to you as a beaver?” The Witch didn’t answer at first. She grabbed him by his tail and lifted him from the ground, staring into his face with flashing eyes as she spoke an enchantment:

“I am Dirga of the deep dark wood. I spare no bed, I share no food. While the sun still lights the day, you may wander where you may to dig and forage, hunt and feast– the same as any wild beast. But when darkness falls across the land, you’ll once again become a man and if you still roam about at night, or if you dare speak of your plight your flesh of thorns will round you rend, to halt your heart and mark your end.”

As she spoke the final line, The Witch ran a long yellow fingernail over the enchanted thistles still clinging to The Beaver’s wrist, marking her threat.

Dirga carried Escrit to a rickety shed behind her hut, and flung the door open. In one corner was a large table bearing a whittling knife, a chisel, and an old oil lamp. In the opposite corner was a large pile of little wooden statuettes, all shoddily carved and barely comprehensible, bearing strange shapes with long snouts and spiny tails. Before Escrit could question the strange carvings, The Witch asked a question of her own as she tossed the beaver carelessly onto a pile of ash-wood trimmings and sawdust.

“Have you ever seen a dragon?” Escrit shook his furry little head as he collected himself. “No. Never.”

“There is a dragon who reigns at the eastern bay who I wish to seize by force.” Dirga continued, “There are many a man I can control with a simple cloth doll, but dragons are a far different breed that require a perfect recreation. To control one would be a power most sublime! So carve me a statue in the dragon’s likeness, and if it works as my poppet I shall remove my thistles and set you free.”

“But I know nothing about either dragons or poppets!” Escrit pled. “This is the price of your life. Take it or leave it. You have until the end of the month to please me, or I dine on Boiled Acorns and Beaver Tail.” With that, the final thread of golden light disappeared over the horizon, and The Woodcarver felt his bones stretch and his fur shrink as he returned to his human form. Dirga did not need to even glance back to ensure her charms worked, but simply slipped out of the shed and locked the door behind her, leaving the old man to his tools.

Chapter. 3

By night The Woodcarver kept to the rickety shed, squinting in the light of the oil lamp as he carefully carved away at blocks of ash wood, trying to piece together a dragon’s image from childhood tales and the vague songs of passing minstrels. Whenever he declared a carving finished, Dirga would tie one of her thistles around its neck and stare eagerly into the dragon’s face with her beady black eyes. The results were never to her liking. Every failed carving caused her to fly into violent rage, spitting and screeching as she bashed the wooden dragon into splinters.

“And what if, by some miracle, I succeed in recreating the beast?” Escrit asked himself as he returned to the shed, sitting back down upon his heap of wood shavings and starting over again, “Even if The Witch keeps her word, how could I contend with granting that wicked woman dominion over a dragon?”

The sunlit hours were far kinder to him, even though he was a beaver all throughout. He often wandered to a nearby brook where clovers and crabapples grew, and his mind always returned home. He often worried about how his wife fared, and the idea of her waiting endlessly at the window of their old cottage inspired him to persevere as he inquired with the other animals about what all they knew about the dragon that resided at the eastern bay. The Crow said it flew through the air on great leathery wings. The Mole said that it dug through rock and slithered across the ground on its belly. The Porcupine said it was spiny and stout. The Water Rat said it was smooth and scrawny. The Rabbit shuddered and ran to its burrow at the mere mention of dragons, while The Badger tutted and advised all who would listen to turn their minds to more wholesome things. 

“Don’t ya’ mind them.” Called a little voice from the trees, “In these lands, the smartest animal knows less about dragons than the dumbest man.” The Beaver looked up, and there was the barn swallow, pecking at cherries in a tart tree. Amidst his troubles he had nearly forgotten the little bird altogether, and now he wondered whether or not they– being at fault for his current trial– were in cahoots with the witch.

“Little swallow!” He called, “Do you recognize me?”

“I do!” It answered back, “Though ya’ are a good deal smaller and furrier than ya’ were.”

“Then you owe me an apology, if there is enough goodness within you to grant me one.”

“I apologize for your situation, if that counts for anything.” Escrit huffed, “It does not.” “But you are not within the stomach of a wolf, and that is somethin’ to be thankful for.”

“I would rather be the dinner of a wolf than the pawn of a witch.”

The barn swallow let loose a sharp chirp and bounced excitedly upon her branch.

“Careful, careful! Do not speak of your situation, even to one as little as me.” She hushed “Do not forget the nettles!”

So it was, for even as Escrit had begun speaking of his sorrows he felt the pinprick of the thorns creep upward along his arm toward his heart. He held his tongue, and the pain subsided, contented with his obedience.

“Do not die now, you have not yet seen The Witch spin her silver thread!” The Barn Swallow tittered, “Tonight! Tonight! Come to the hut and look inside, but take care not to touch the door, walls, or window frames, for they are enchanted to strike down anything that dares draw near without her bidding.”

Before Escrit could inquire any further, the little bird took a couple of cherries in her beak and disappeared once more into the leafy canopy.

That evening, Escrit returned to The Witch’s yard. Once the sun set and he became human once more, he quietly crept from the woodshed to the glowing window of Dirga’s abode, wondering if he was a fool to dare take the swallow's advice a second time. He kept low to the ground to avoid detection, taking care not to brush against any part of the hut. Looking in he saw a large round room filled with all the trappings of the forbidden arts: bottles, herb bundles, jars of animal parts, and long ropes of thistles hung up to dry. In the center of it all was The Witch at a spinning wheel. Glittering rocks rested upon her lap as she gently tugged at the beautiful silver thread, building upon the bobbin until its starlike glow filled the room. 

But The Witch was not the only member of the household. In one candlelit corner, where a cauldron and a kitchenette sat, a little girl no older than ten swept the floor. Her brown hair and grey clothes were ragged with cinders and sweat, but her little face was bright with an odd cheeriness as she tossed the contents of her dustpan out the door, leaned the broom against the wall, draped a towel over her hands, and pulled a piping hot pie from the oven. She set upon the stovetop to cool, filling the hut with the smell of baked cherries.

Escrit found his gaze fixed the little girl with a far greater curiosity than with the mystical silver thread. As the child waved a towel over the pie to help it cool, she looked up to lock her gaze with Escrit, and before he could duck his head any lower he recognized the little dark brown eyes that glinted like the glass-black gaze of a bird.

Then the rattling of the spinning wheel stopped. Escrit carefully buried himself deep into the prickly branches of the dead bush as The Witch stood up from the spinning wheel, and tied the end of silver thread around her thumb.

“Rekindle the fire in the chimney, child,” she commanded. The girl obediently glided to the fireplace of black stone and began building the flames back up from the smoldering coals.

While she worked, Dirga conducted her spell: she paced her hut three times, pulling the silver thread longer and longer until it was taught against the bobbin. Then she doubled back to her bundles of strange-smelling herbs hanging from the wall, and picked out one tied together with a black ribbon to carry back to the fireplace, now filled with a roaring orange flame.

Dirga threw the bundle on the fire. As it crackled the child lost her blithe cheer, fleeing to the far corner of the room where she crouched down and buried her face in her arms to shield herself from the red smoke that began to fill the room. The Witch chanted a strange incantation as the smoke engulfed her, her voice growing steadily louder and more shrill until a second voice called back from the fireplace, horrifying and incomprehensible. Escrit, sensing the risk he was taking had suddenly crossed over into a world of cosmic peril, backed silently from his hiding place. He crept back to the woodshed, holding his breath for fear of making the slightest sound, only daring to breathe once he was safely closed in amongst the tools and the ash wood. He sat on the floor, jittery and wide-eyed all throughout the night with nothing to comfort him but the murmuring of prayers, and the cold wooden eyes of a half-dozen unfinished dragons.

[the-al-chemist]

Lots of Little Miracles

Written for @hp-12monthsofmagic’s December prompt, Merry and Bright. Christmas gets a lot of coverage at this time of year, but I’d like to wish a Happy Hanukkah to those who celebrate.

Warnings: This story features a small child who does not appreciate religion as much as she appreciates food.

The night was dark as pitch and cold as ice, with hail battering the walls and the winter wind rattling the windows as it blew in from the wave-crashed cliffs. Inside, however, it was warm, and the smell of frying oil was wafting through from the kitchen.

Artemis smiled as she turned her attention to the row of thin candles that had been placed on the windowsill, each of their little flickering flames reflecting on the dark glass behind. There were nine of them in total, one for each year of her age, all held by a candlestick with outstretched arms like the branches of a tree. She raised one forefinger and gently tapped the flames in turn, smiling as they bobbed away from her touch.

“Come away from there, Artemis.”

At the sound of her great-aunt’s voice, Artemis turned her back on the nine candles, but she did not move away from them.

“It’s fine, Aunt Tina. They don’t hurt,” she said. “They’re only teeny tiny fires.”

“I know, but I don’t want them getting put out accidentally,” Tina replied. “It’s the last night of Hanukkah, so it’s important that they all stay lit tonight.”

“Yeah, but if one goes out you can just set it on fire again.”

“That’s not really the point, honey.”

Artemis’ nose wrinkled. “Then what is the point?”

“Well, you know the story of Hanukkah, don’t you?” When Artemis shook her head, Aunt Tina frowned. “I assumed Sara would have told you.”

It had been a long time since Artemis’ mother Sara had been in a mood to tell stories. Maybe once upon a time, before her dad had died and her brother ran away from home, Artemis might have sat on her mother’s lap and been told the story of Hanukkah. If she had, she had since forgotten it.

Luckily for her, she still had Aunt Tina to tell her stories.

“A long time ago, there was a kingdom far away from here,” Tina began. Artemis listened carefully. All her favourite stories took place in far-off lands. “And in this kingdom, the king decided that he did not like people following different gods to his. So, he ordered his soldiers to take over all of the temples and stop people from going in, and get rid of all the oil they used to light candles.

“Now, the people who followed one god, the one me and my family follow, they weren’t happy about that at all. They fought back, and they managed to win back their temple. It was all in ruins, but they managed to piece it back together slowly. But, they didn’t have enough oil for their lights; they only had enough for one night.

“So, the people lit their candle, thinking it would only last that one night, but their god knew all about their struggles, and to thank them for having faith in him against all odds, he granted them a miracle. That little bit of oil, which should only have burned for one night, burned for eight whole nights.”

Aunt Tina smiled. Artemis did not.

“What, is that the end?” she asked, and her great-aunt nodded. “It’s not a very exciting story.”

“I think it’s a very exciting story.”

Old people had strange ideas about what was exciting. Artemis sighed heavily. “It’s about oil, Aunt Tina.”

“It’s not about the oil,” said Tina. “It’s about the miracle.”

Artemis was not as easily impressed as her great-aunt.

“It’s not much of a miracle,” she said. “Anyone can make a bit of oil last longer, you’d just need a spell or a potion. Or you could just make flames with magic, and you wouldn’t even need the oil at all. I don’t get why it is worth this big celebration every year.”

“But these people weren’t magical, honey. They were all Muggles.”

“They can’t have been. One of them must have been a witch or a wizard and lying about it. They were in disguise or something, I don’t know.”

It was at that moment that Artemis’ great-uncle Newt, Aunt Tina’s husband, came in. He settled himself on an armchair, around the back of which a Kneazle was sleeping. Artemis turned to him for support.

“You agree with me, don’t you, Uncle Newt? That thing with the oil isn’t a miracle, it’s just magic.”

Newt fixed Artemis with a peculiar expression. “Why can’t it be both?”

“Well, because,” Artemis said with a shrug, “miracles are miracles. Magic happens all the time.”

“So do miracles.” Uncle Newt was clearly wrong, and Artemis opened her mouth to tell him so, but he continued before she could speak, “Maybe not big miracles, but life is full of lots of little miracles. Last week, I visited an old friend and saw his phoenix burst into flames before my eyes and emerge reborn, young and new again.”

“That’s what phoenixes do, Uncle Newt.”

“If you or I were to do that, or Milly here” — Newt raised one hand to scratch the chin of the Kneazle behind him — “that would be a miracle, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Yesterday morning, you went down to the beach and you picked up a pebble and painted it for me. It’s on my desk now. Until yesterday, it was just one pebble among thousands of others, and you happened to pick that exact one to paint. Years ago, that pebble would have been part of the cliff, and it’s only because of the waves washing over it in different ways over the years that it’s become a pebble at all, let alone one that was picked out and is now painted and special to me.”

“I grew up all the way over the sea in America,” Aunt Tina added. “And one day, your Uncle just happened to travel there, and on that day the two of us happened to be in the same place at the same time. If that hadn’t happened, I might have met someone else and fallen in love with them. But I didn’t, I fell in love with him.” Her dark eyes sparkled as they met her husband’s. “And, out of all the millions of people in the world, he fell in love with me, too. The same thing happened when your parents met, and now all three of us are here together. I think that’s pretty darn miraculous.”

It was all very nice, what they were saying, but Artemis wasn’t sure that she really understood what they meant.

“But then, everything and everyone could be a miracle, if you go by what you’re saying,” she told them. It wasn’t a joke, but they both chuckled. “What?”

“Well, that’s what we are trying to tell you, honey. Everything can be a miracle, you just have to think it. To the people in the temple, the oil was a miracle. To some people, magic is a miracle. To us, you are a miracle.”

“That’s why we need to be kind to everyone and everything,” said Uncle Newt. “Because this whole world and everything in it is just as miraculous as we are.”

Aunt Tina placed one gentle hand on Artemis’ dark-haired head. “Now, don’t you think that is worth celebrating?”

“I guess so,” Artemis replied, though she was still a little confused.

“Great. So, let’s stop playing with the Menorah, and go and make some latkes.”

Artemis followed Tina into the kitchen without hesitation. She might not have fully grasped the point of Hanukkah, but she did know that she liked latkes. And, seeing as her great-aunt and uncle considered her to be a miracle, she was sure that she could persuade them to give her at least one extra portion.

[film-in-my-soul]

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Master Reclist · Personal Masterlist · Blog Nav.

[moonsheen]

fic writer meme

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 112. And thank god that doesn't include the REAL old stuff.

2. what's your total ao3 wordcount? 552,904 ...that's...both more and less than I was expecting

3. what fandoms do you write for?

...a...lot. Most recently? MDZS/SVSSS, Trigun (er, sorry for the weird stuff), and 13 Sentinels (PLAY 13 SENTINELS). Long term oldies but goodies? Kingdom Hearts, Devil May Cry, Overwatch, Supergiant games, Evangelion

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Recovery (SVSS, Qijiu --woah, that one pulled ahead in the last few months) Husband x Husband (Hunter x Hunter -- I did this as a yuletide treat to make up for defaulting one year and it's the gift that keeps giving) Minor Delays (SVSS, Qijiu -- wait really?) The Way Back Home (SVSS, Qijiu -- ....Qijiu nation represent. This one doesn't surprise me though, Chira did an amazing comic for it) Hold the Baby (MDZS -- okay this one was just where I was dumping the old twitter threads of a VERY specific Xiyao fix-it AU but you know what, thanks everyone)

5. do you respond to comments?

I try to. If I don't succeed it's often because life kicked my ass.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably On Your Six (Reaper & Soldier 76, Overwatch)

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

This is hard mostly because all of my fic tends to be some kind of fix-it in some way to give someone an obscenely happy ending. If you had to have me narrow it down based on what my most blatant fix-it to some miserable canon character ending was? I'd go with either Happiness Exists (As Long As You Believe in the Possibility) (Qijiu again!), and the Recovery-verse as a whole, or maybe Abstraction White Rose (Revolutionary Girl Utena), because by god I needed Utena and Anthy to kiss and I MADE THEM DO THAT, A LOT.

8. do you get hate on fics?

Xiyao troll hit me once or twice and I got a few cranky dudebros who got mad at me for my Eva fic on a message board once, but nothing all that bad if I'm honest.

9. do you write smut?

...well, I've tried but the plot gets in the way.

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you have written?

The first that come to mind are the MDZS/TGCF crossovers, but those are the same authors so I don't know that that counts. I DID write a very silly How The Grinch Stole Christmas/Nightmare Before Christmas short once upon an internet. It has since been lost to the great yawning of time and collapse of several social media platforms.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Someone once scraped the awful Naruto fic I wrote when I was like 15 and changed the names to make it a Samurai Champloo fic which, um. Why? But that was pretty damn funny in hindsight.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! In Russian, Chinese, and French. And I love every time it happens.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

My dayjob these days is cowriting with people. But on the fanfic side -- well, in short, yes. With the usual suspect (that would be Chira) and with my wife, who has once or twice dictated an entire story outline to me which I write in a day.

14. what's your all time favorite ship? Internet, I am old and you cannot expect me to pick one. Utena/Anthy maybe?

15. what is a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I still need to do the last story for the A Troublesome Charge series which I SWEAR will happen it's just I had a literal baby.

16. what are your writing strengths?

Character voice. I love character voice and I am told I am good at it.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Smut.

18. thoughts of writing dialogue in another language in fics?

To be honest if I don't know it I don't try. But I like bilingual writing when it's done well (see also: Everything, Everywhere, All At Once) -- but when it comes to fangirl Japanese or Chinese, I tend to leave that to the experts.

19. first fandom you wrote for?

mumblesBeastWars and thank god that was on a platform that crashed and burned. The Beast Wars fic I wrote for Yuletide was way better.

20. favorite fic you have written?

On Your Six, despite how I feel about Overwatch nowadays, I feel was probably one of the punchiest stories I've ever written. I would have absolutely used this story to audition to write for Blizzard's tie-in novellas if Blizzard hadn't...well, read the news on what happened at Blizzard.

The other one I'd probably say is Ghost Roads in my Troublesome Charge series (MDZS). I just feel like I nailed all the multiple plotlines and characters involved in that one and I'm super proud of it. I'm not tagging anyone because I have anxiety about this kind of thing, but please feel free to do this meme yourself if it crosses your dash!

[fandomanimatic-tournament]

Round 2 Matchups:

Bracket 1, Side A:

Wolf in Sheep's Clothing VS. Curses

Open Up Your Eyes VS. Ready as I'll ever be

Sincerely, Me VS. Once Upon a December

Little Miss Perfect VS. Good for You VS. Never Love an Anchor

The other side VS. How bad can I be?

Blue Lips VS. Just Take My Walllet VS. Baby Hotline

I'm the Bad Guy VS. Partners in Crime VS. It's tough to be a God

Are You Satisfied? VS. Oh No!

Bracket 1, Side B:

It Took Me By Surprise VS. Hayloft II

I know I'm a Wolf VS. Left Brain, Right Brain

Christmas Kids VS. Dismemberment Song VS. Allies or Enemies

Turn the Lights off VS. Villain

Soldier, Poet, King VS. Crossing the Line

Everybody Talks VS. Saint Bernard

The History of Wrong Guys VS. Lemon Boy

Who Are You, Really? VS. The Zombie Song

Bracket 2, Side A:

Honey, I'm Home VS. Little Lion Man

The Other Side of Paradise VS. El Muchacho de los Ojos Tristes

Ikanaide VS. Touch-Tone Telephone

Achilles Come Down VS. My R

No Children VS. I can't decide

You're Gonna Go Far, Kid VS. Dr Sunshine is Dead

Crush VS. My Ordinary Life

I do adore VS. Like Real People Do

Bracket 2, Side B:

Stronger Than You VS. Emperor's New Clothes

Two Birds VS. Love Like You

Everything stays VS. My Whole Family

Cabinet Man VS. Welcome To The Internet

The Moon Will Sing VS. There! Right There!

This is Home VS. How Far We've Come

The Mind Electric VS. Rät

Fish in a Birdcage VS. The Game of Life

Warnings and disclaimers under the cut

Please be cautious and read the title, description and warning cards on the animatic videos if you decide to watch them. If you've got specific triggers I'd recommend even more caution when watching animatics of fandoms you don't know, since sometimes canon-typical themes don't get warnings.

Please keep in mind that I don't know all the media and fandoms of the animatics provided as examples and I don't have the time (nor the will) to research them all. Don't come into my notes or my ask box complaining about them being included, I will simply block you. If a ship animatic included is about an adult and a minor, do tell me and I'll take it out of the post

ALSO keep in mind that I don't know all the artists submitted; in fact, even if I do know them I know absolutely nothing about them as people (I do not have twitter nor tiktok) and I could not POSSIBLY have the time to research ALL of the artists' controversies and what came of them so PLEASE don't flood my inbox with the artists' entire crime list.