#the ficcy fic

[gracklekeyer2000]

The Incident

Part 1

Sam’s rain boots were lagging just behind the movement of his feet as they resisted each step and pivot. The opaque layer of muck coating every stagnant surface in the cave added a suffocating smell of rot to the buzzing of giant bugs, squelch of slimes rolling, squeaks of attacking bats, and grunts of effort as the three battled for their lives.

There was a rhythm to the attacks, they’d found. Sam, with a dagger, a dented trash can lid, and over-sized kitchen gloves, slashed another tear in the membrane of a slime that jumped to attack him, knocking it back to where it had leapt from. Just like baseball – if your bat was one-handed. Jackson, by his side, had managed to get his hands on a sword sized for his juvenile frame. He skewered a bug the size of his head, then used the momentum of swinging his sword to fling it into a bat that was flying towards him.

Sebastian, his back pressed against Sam’s, had a large wrench and a makeshift shield from a hubcap – courtesy of the local bus driver. Another bug dove for him, and he batted it away with his shield. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw a rock lift and begin to move towards him. “Jackson! Triple threat!” He yelled.

“Yoba, not again!” Jackson responded, moving so that the three of them had their backs to each other. “How many times is that now?”

“I’ve lost count! Rock crab headed your way – rotate?” Sebastian felt a body tense against his back; Sam held up his lid as the slime jumped again, bursting on impact.

“Ready when you are! Just got this guy and nobody’s next in line!”

Jackson called out, “Let’s do it! Three, two, one!” At one, they shuffled, turning so that Sam was facing the next bug and Sebastian was facing the rock crab. “I’ll break off, you two keep together!”

“Got it!” Sam swung at the bug’s next attack, failing to make contact; despite that, it was still enough to keep the bug out of attacking range. He heard Jackson yell out as he landed a hit and the bug landed with a squelch – no, two squelches – its body still twitching. “You okay?”

“I got the bug!” Jackson took a look around, his curly hair dripping sweat, his breathing finally starting to speed up. The onslaught seemed to be slowing down, though. He’d read about infested floors, but this was their first. Hoping it wouldn’t be their last, he continued to search for threats. A flash of furred movement caught his attention. It flew, again and again in his mind, before he watched it pick a path that he’d prepared for. A swing of steel, and he sliced through the small body, sending it to the ground.

He turned back to the other two boys, holding their own, but just as wiped out as him. His eyes went wide as Sebastian’s wrench wedged under the rock crab’s shell. Every scenario that played without his intervention was the end of his friend. Yelling as the kid tried and failed to overturn the crab, Jackson leapt, pivoted, and leapt. “Watch out!” He called out, swinging his sword between the wrench and the shell. Metal clanged against metal; Sebastian dropped his wrench and fell away from his rescuer, leaving Sam’s back defenseless; Jackson pushed his blade through the crab and it collapsed onto its side; Sam cut off a bug’s wing, sending it careening into a wall, and the three made eye contact.

Sebastian scrambled to his feet, helped up by Jackson, and managed to grab his wrench. The crab was dead, the bugs were dead, the bats were dead, and they hadn’t seen any more slimes since the last one. The flickering light of the torches they’d picked up and re-staked into the ground illuminated the empty space of the cave. “Thanks.”

Jackson nodded. “Yeah. I think that’s all of them.” He took a deep breath, his blood vessels still pumping for his slow heartbeat. “We should check around that corner, just to be safe though. Are you guys okay?”

Sam panted out, “Dude… gimme… a minute… first. Please. I- I’m good. Just gotta… catch my breath.”

Sebastian, just as winded, “Yeah. That’s… gonnaleaveamark,” he agreed, breathing out the last four words all at once. “Should… should be good.”

“Eh, you two catch your breath. It’s a dead end over there, I got a peek. You could fit one, maybe two monsters back there – I can handle it.”

“Don’t expect- expect me to- to save your ass,” Sebastian retorted.

“Didn’t I just do that for you?” He teased.

Sam threw his head back in frustration. “Don’t start. Just… I dunno, yell. If you need… help.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. I got it.” He turned around and made his way to the narrow passage, weaving between rocks. Something shifted in the darkness ahead of him. Something big. “Shit,” he hissed under his breath, before yelling out, “Throw me a torch!”

“Got it!” Sebastian called back. A torch landed at his feet, rolling and flickering from its momentum. As the fire flicked back to full strength, its thrower screamed, “Jackson, what the fuck is that thing!?”

“Stay back! Don’t get its attention!” The massive slime turned to Jackson, its many eyes turning red underneath the main membrane. “SHIT!” He leapt to the side, holding the monster’s focus as possibilities screamed through his mind at top speed. “Over here, motherfucker!” None of them went well if the others got involved at this rate. “Stay over there, guys! I’ll call you in when it’s safe...er!”

Sebastian stepped back, then swiftly made his way to Sam. “Come on! We need to be ready when he is!”

He groaned. “We’re leaving after this!”

The two boys jogged back over to where Jackson was, crouching behind rocks as they watched him battle. He kept jumping to the side, leaning in, slashing, jumping back, and repeating that cycle. Over and over and over again, his breathing turning to panting, until finally the membrane broke. It should’ve been victory.

“SHIT! TRIPLE THREAT! TRIPLE THREAT!”

The other two boys rushed in to find four slimes coming at Jackson. His shirt was soaked completely with sweat that dripped off of his nose. “Come on!” Sam ordered.

“We’ve got you!” Joining into their three-sided battle formation, they fought the slimes. “We might not get home clean tonight!” Sebastian warned.

Sam yelled as he landed a critical hit, tearing through the slime’s membrane. “I’m more worried about getting home at all,” he replied, the fear audible in his voice. He kicked the slime and it collapsed in on itself, oozing out between the broken pieces of skin that had once held it together. “Hit that one my way, Sebastian,” he offered. A second slime rolled sideways into his field of attack, having been knocked away by a wrench.

Sebastian turned his attention back to the slime in front of him, swinging his wrench at it. The metal only scraped the membrane as it slid across and under the slime, pushing it back away from him. He groaned in frustration.

Next to him, Jackson was feeling much the same. He’d slashed and stabbed at this slime for what felt like ages, but it was like its skin was three times as thick as that of any others he’d fought. Finally, he took a chance: with one deft swing of his sword, he caught the edge of his blade on the star at the end of the slime’s antenna and pulled it off. The membrane, full of gashes, finally fell apart as if he’d ripped it open by a pull tab, and it collapsed around what looked to be its core.

Jackson turned to the other two. “Break! Mine’s done – lemme help!” The three broke formation, and he helped Sebastian defeat his slime. They turned to Sam as he plunged his dagger into the last slime, causing it to burst all over his gloves and boots. He turned back to them, looking exasperated.

“Let’s… get outta here,” Sam breathed out. Sebastian nodded and stepped forwards.

“I’ll meet you… over by the- the ladder,” Jackson panted. He turned around. He took a few steps. He reached for the core of the slime. He didn’t see the flash of light. He didn’t hear the pop of a teleport, or the footsteps, or the man inhaling to shout a warning. His hand wrapped around something solid and smooth, warm to the touch and glowing ever so slightly.

CRACK! Sam, who had been watching him, suddenly found himself blinded by a bright flash of light. Sebastian, who’d had his back turned, dropped into a crouch and raised his arms over his head, mirroring Sam. The wizard, who’d seen everything fall into place for this disaster in the last moment, had managed to shield his eyes in time and held up his hands as if to catch something.

Catch something he did, surprisingly enough – at least, it surprised Sebastian once he could see again. He whipped around to find Jackson – rather, what he hoped was Jackson – levitating, his body curved around the force of the energy that had thrown him. He turned again to the wizard, whose face was pale and grimly laser-focused on the task at hand.

Keeping his eyes on the boy he’d caught, Rasmodius transferred his spell from both hands to one, using his newly freed hand to unclasp his cloak and bring the fabric to his mouth. He muttered into it, “Wrap him, don’t let him touch anything solid.” The cloak fell from his shoulders and whipped through the air, stopping just short of the floating, shape-shifting body before swiftly wrapping it. The wizard relaxed a little, releasing his spell. Slowly, it levitated back to him, landing gently in his outstretched arms.

He turned to the boys, who were both watching him in disbelief, urging, “You two, come here. Don’t touch him or the stone,” he warned. Waving his hand, he muttered, “It’s relatively harmless now, but I’m not taking any chances.” He looked back up from the stone to the children in front of him.

Sam put his arm out to the side, indicating for Sebastian to not come closer. “Who are you?” He tried to keep the shaking out of his voice, but it was impossible.

The wizard shook his head, exasperated. “We don’t have time for that. Quickly now, or I’m leaving you here.” He could see the older boy opening his mouth to protest, but the one behind him stepped forwards and nodded his head to Rasmodius. Once the two were at his side, he gestured them to come closer.

Rasmodius instructed clearly and urgently, “When I say so, you’re going to want to close your eyes and hold your breath for just a moment.” He picked up his foot, turning his leg so that it pointed as far out as possible, and jammed the toe of his boot into the ground, hearing the click of a mechanism he’d installed long ago. “There’s going to be a loud noise and a flash of light – not quite as severe as the last one, mind you – then you’ll be okay to go back to normal,” he continued, rotating his leg until his knee was facing inwards. A dim teleportation circle lit up on the ground beneath them, growing in size with the turn of his leg until it was large enough for all four of them in the center. “Do you understand?” The children affirmed that they did.

“Good.” He flattened the sole of his boot against the cave floor, and there was a dull scraping sound as the circle carved itself into the dirt. One-time-use only. “It’s time.”

One successful teleportation later, the four were together in the Cindersap woods, getting rained on at the bottom of a staircase leading up to the wizard’s tower. Rasmodius tapped the front half of his boot into the grass twice, causing the second teleportation circle to flicker and disappear from beneath them. Adjusting his grip on the body in his arms, he spoke into his cloak again. “Set him down for me, will ya?” A fold of fabric unwrapped from the bundle to thwap lightly against his shoulder. “What?”

Sam watched as the fabric moved of its own volition, seemingly communicating with the strange man who somehow had bright purple facial hair. The wizard’s face went pale again and his mouth fell open ever so slightly before his expression changed to astonished, grim pity.

“Gods have mercy on your soul, kid,” he managed, keeping his voice steady and even. “You-”

“Hey! Are you gonna tell us what’s going on?” Sebastian interrogated, “What happened to him? Is he gonna be okay?”

Rasmodius looked up from the small frame in his arms to the other two boys, as if suddenly remembering their presence. “He’s still got a fighting chance,” he reassured, “I need you two to go up those stairs and stand by the door.” He waved a hand over the child’s uncovered face, then spoke into his cloak again. “It’s safe to set him down – give us some distance, though, then go protect those two. I’ll handle this one.”

Uneasy, Sam piped up. “Are you… talking to your cloak?”

“Worry about that later,” he dismissed; the fabric levitated several feet away and eased Jackson onto the ground. “It’ll protect you while we try and get this figured out.” The fabric slipped out from underneath the child’s shape-shifting frame and returned to the other three, taking a slight bow for the kids. Rasmodius stepped forwards, nodding to it, then swiftly walked over to Jackson.

As his cloak guided the boys up the stairs, the wizard crouched next to Jackson, whose eyes had opened. One red, one blue, framed by the even-more-blue hair of a character he’d been writing about. Rasmodius spoke in a grim but determined voice, “Listen, kid, I know you’ve got no reason to trust me, but you just absorbed far more energy than it should be possible for you to survive,” he pulled a pair of gloves out from his belt, “and if you want to continue to survive, I need you to listen closely.”

Jackson, barely aware of what had just happened, was going to great pains to process what the wizard had said. The countless scenarios in his mind were playing at top speed, and none of them were making any sense, and yet they all made perfect sense; somehow both seemed true at the same time. “Huh?” he managed, blinking back into focus after what felt like a full day. It had only been about five seconds.

“Good enough for me.” Rasmodius pulled the gloves on over his hands and spoke again. “I’m gonna guide you through this, but ultimately, you’re gonna have to do it yourself. You’ve gotten this far, though, so I’ve got faith in you.”

Another few seconds that felt a hundred times as long. “Do what?”

The wizard moved with swift confidence, picking up the boy’s arms and positioning them so that they were pointed straight up, perpendicular to his back and the earth. “Hold your arms up like this, straight out. Put your hands together – like this,” he instructed, demonstrating with the tips his thumb and index finger on each hand touching tips, mirrored, “and point it up as far as you can.”

Jackson, shaking, feverish, did as he was told. “I died so many times today.” He didn’t mention the fact that, in his mind, he was still watching himself die repeatedly. That, in his algorithmic predictions of possibilities, he’d watched his friends die numerous times. That there were a few scenarios he’d lived internally in which he’d leveled the town. That he was being given information by his own brain’s processing of this energy that he’d never considered before, that he’d never thought possible.

Rasmodius didn’t notice, either – he was a little busy trying to keep three children and himself alive in the reality they were all existing within, the reality they had to live with in that moment. “Not yet, you didn’t,” he reassured. Had it been anyone else, that might’ve worked. Then again, had it been anyone else, none of them would’ve made it out of that cave alive. “I need you to concentrate on the space between your hands and focus all of your energy there. As soon as something starts to come through, you’re going to want to release it and keep releasing it – kind of like untying a water balloon and squeezing all the liquid out of it.”

The child nodded. Every new word was fifty new scenarios. He arduously pulled his attention from within to the air in front of him. A sudden increase of light startled him and he gasped as a low hum began to vibrate through him. Rasmodius watched in amazement as this boy, who had never once cast before in his life, focused the energy of an experienced mage’s ticking time bomb into a ball of light that grew with accelerating speed. “Good, kid, now let it go!” He urged.

Jackson winced. He exhaled, and the light brightened into something that surely should’ve blinded him as it shot out into a beam wider than the wizard’s tower. Over by said tower, the cloak, which had wrapped itself around Sam and Sebastian, closed the window it had left for them to watch, protecting them from the equivalent of their third flash-bang that day. Even the wizard had to shield his eyes again. Eldritch blast.

Seven seconds later – at least eight hours for Jackson – it flickered, then faded out. His arms went limp, and time returned to something slightly more bearable for the poor, winded kid as the world spun around him. Back at the tower, the cloak lowered, then unwrapped from the two boys slightly, still on guard. There was a hole cut into the clouds. The sound of the blast echoed through the entire valley.

[starry-bi-sky]

Part six of "Clone Danny"

When the Waynes leave, Danny can finally relax. Even if he's once again hit with a lingering regret that worms itself into his core like a little parasite. The final night that they're there, Bruce Wayne is not downstairs waiting for him, much to Danny's faint, lingering disappointment. He kinda liked talking to him, even if he kept it brief. Probably for the best.

Damian was still there when he returned with a sprained ankle and more ectoplasm burns. Danny tries not to make his limp obvious when he enters, and his clothing smells faintly of sulfur and burnt fabric.

Damian tells him he stinks, and Danny tells him he ran into a ghost. "The Phantom took care of it." He says, gripping his mask in his pocket tightly and avoiding putting weight on his injured foot. His thermos is pressed next to it. His fingers are freezing.

"Ah yes, your vigilante." Damian replies, "The one with the bat." And Danny can see the outline of his eyes narrowing at him.

"Can we really call him a vigilante when the people he's fighting are ghosts?" Danny asks, avoiding the 'bat' comment and leaning against the back of the kitchen chair.

"Did you actually lose your bat, Fenton?" Damian's fingers tap against his arm, refusing to move on. "Despite your ridiculous behavior and attempts to avoid my father and I, I find it hard to believe that the son of two ghost hunters would be as foolish as to forget his only weapon of defense against ghosts."

Ah, so he noticed that. Danny was half tempted to mutter that the bat wasn't his only weapon of defense. He still had his beloved jawbreakers. He's quiet, wondering how to respond to implication that he might be Phantom -- he can't believe Damian picked that up in only a few short days when nobody has caught on in little over a year -- before shrugging.

"I may have given it to the Phantom instead." He says, propping his arm up to put his chin in his hand, trying to look innocent while his heart skipped an anxious beat.

It's probably not the answer Damian wants, but when his word is the only proof he has, Danny doesn't think he should be too worried about it. Even if it meant that a second person outside his friend and enemy circle knew his identity.

He excuses himself shortly after, leaning heavily against the railing to try and hop up the stairs.

(Much to his surprise, Damian follows and lets Danny put his weight on him. He complains that its because Danny will wake his father if he allows him to bumble up the stairs on one foot.)

(Danny ruffles his hair again when they reach the top, and limps towards his bedroom.)

===

Its three months and a handful of new injuries before Danny thinks about the Waynes again. A new ghost appeared in town who called itself Riftgate and he was capable of creating teleport portals to anywhere in the world.

He was a fucking pain in the ass to fight, costing Danny three hours of his night where he could have been sleeping and nearly his hand. Danny gets dragged through the other side before finally shoving Rift inside the thermos.

But he also ends up nearly 900 miles away in fucking Gotham of all places on the top of an empty roof. Great, juuuust great. Danny is tired, he is grumpy, and he is in a city so laden with ectoplasm that he can all but taste it on his tongue. Or maybe that was just the air quality.

He can't even see the stars here, and his mood worsens.

Well, he's too fucking tired to bother handling this right now. There's no way Sam or Tucker are able to help him considering their distance, and right now Danny just wants to sleep. Maybe after that he can figure out a way home.

So he does, sort of. He walks over to the door and doesn't bother trying to open it, even if there was a 50/50 chance of it being unlocked. (This was Gotham after all.) Instead he sweeps the ground with his foot and curls up at door and he's out like a light.

....Only to be woken up by hissed muttering close to his ear and a gloved hand pressing into the pulse of his neck. "No I don't know if they're dead but I don't think so." Says the unfamiliar voice, and Danny opens a bleary eye.

"He's breathing, but his pulse is too slow to be normal. I think he needs help." The voice, a boy, -- no, Red Robin, great -- continues, and Danny looks beside him to see who he was talking to. No one. "He's probably part of some kind of gang, his mask kind of reminds me of Hood's."

Danny just barely remembers that he's still dressed up as Phantom before he tiredly signs, "I'm not part of a fucking gang." and pushes the boy's hand off.

=====

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

will make a masterpost soon

Taglist: @the-navistar-carol @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @gin2212 @youracearocroatneighbour @luckybyrdrobyn @deeplyconfusedbear @epilepticnerd @beautifulmomenttodrawblank

[faithdeans]

i miss you ao3.............

[katnissmellarkkk]

my aesthetics :

the second quarter quell generation, pt one (aka the generation with all the principal characters’ parents, and then also haymitch)

[joosthead]

5 hours studying. i’m quitting and writing joost fanfiction for a living

[stpansy]

they really are the rpf fanfic 200k word friends to lovers to enemies to lovers to married with children band

[whistledownbad]

I can’t wait for y’all to read the 6,000+ sexy words that @theyarnmaidstale has written for our fic I-

[mitochondriaandbunnies]

I just finished a book that I'd read like, 7/8ths of over about two and half sittings back in.... December??? And then just stopped dead in even though I was genuinely enjoying it

Anyway I read the last eighth just now and want to scream and bite someone because GOD it was so FUCKING ROMANTIC and THEMATICALLY WHOLE and DEVASTATING and HOPEFUL but also I am HIGHLY SUSPICIOUS that I might've just read someone's 500 page slash fic for a fandom I don't know anything about and I'm not really sure how to feel about that

[trekkie-lkm-archive]

Info: Five times Kirk was comforted after being hurt, and one time he was the comforter.

(Mostly other crew members, please.)

(WTF, Captcha. Declaring manure? Really?) (thread)

Fill: 1/1

Author: ficcy-fic

Archive Link

[laesas]

First Lines Game! 📝

rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to Ao3. If you have less than 10, post what you have!

Tagged by the lovely lovely legendary @kimchaybrainrot

Tagging @kinnbig @thewholedamnboulangerie @lesbianiconsteveharrington @kinnsporsche @domsaysstuff @capikun and any other writer friends who think this would be fun! - As always no pressure though!

I'm gonna have to really bend the rules because I only started writing a few months ago and I've never actually posted to Ao3! SO uhhhh Opening lines from the 3 wips I have with opening lines haha!

Leather jacket, silk lining - Oneshot - Kim character study + KimBig

Kim’s phone vibrates again. The sound of it skittering across the surface of the desk makes him sick. His hands are shaking. His hands won’t stop shaking.

Sounds we can't define - multi-chapter - opening lines from 1-3 - KimChay

1 - The days after his kidnapping had passed in a hazy blur. A flash of white feathers and an outstretched hand. Calloused fingers ripping his own from the sleeve of a leather jacket.

2 - Arm leads Chay through the compound in a comfortable silence.

3 - “Why am I here?” He’s 20 minutes late, deliberately, but Kinn acts like he’s interrupting, barely looking up from his paperwork as he beckons Kim over, jutting his chin to the chair in front of him.

Quicker than lightning, whiter than bone. - Oneshot - VegasPete

When Vegas wakes, he’s floating in a sea of crisp white bed sheets. He drifts, gently, watching the light from the setting sun outside cast a brilliant gold as it dances across the waves.

[weshallc]

Chapters: 3/12 Fandom: Call the Midwife Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Bernadette | Shelagh Turner/Patrick Turner, Marianne Turner/Patrick Turner, Patrick Turner & Timothy Turner, Bernadette | Shelagh Turner & Timothy Turner Characters: Bernadette | Shelagh Turner, Patrick Turner, Timothy Turner, Marianne Turner, Fred Buckle, Trixie Franklin Summary:

I have gone back down the rabbit hole of Christmas 1958. I may never return.  You are all bloody brilliant for following me back down there. Love you all loads. Even the grumpy ones. Oh, that’s me.

[gracklekeyer2000]

fic drop!

here y'all go~

[mickeymagpie]

I was tagged by the wonderful @marypsue!

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

“Please, I just need another minute,” Donnie grits out, head still bent toward the floor, eyes scrunched shut. “I have to make him understand, or he’s going to be scared.”

technically two sentences; the first is 18 words. This is from act 1 of Ouroboros, Ever Hungry, the 72k (and counting) TMNT fic where Donnie makes a lot of questionable decisions in two separate timelines, one of which includes letting an alien consciousness rent room in his brain venom-symbiote-style.

god who do i know w/ writing projects rn

@beeonastrawberry? & @albatris @inevitablyuncertain @faerynova & whoever else wants to do it!

[elronds-pointy-ears]

currently back writing the next chapter. We‘ll see how it goes maybe i‘ll update in the next few hours.. maybe days. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[galpalkirk]

16 & 17 ✨

16. the book that made you fall in love with reading?

i can genuinely say i started reading books obsessively at so young an age that i can’t remember ever not having loved reading and it would be impossible for me to remember a specific book to have sparked it. what i do remember is that my grandma gave me a book for christmas when i was 7 which is the only gift i remember her giving me though i can’t remember the name of it because it wasn’t very good i was just so super excited about getting a book that it made me feel seen which left a lasting impact in my memory. though i’m pretty sure it’s not even the first book i got from her but it’s the first i REMEMBER being given. i also remember reading old children’s picture books TO my friends during sleepovers. and making voices. one of them was winnie the pooh.

aside from that i did read SO SO many of those children nancy drew novels (or kitty drew as they were called in swedish) i absolutely devoured every single one i could find but they didn’t spark a love a reading, that happened much earlier.

17. a book to get you out of a reading slump?

any book that is EXTREMELY stupid. i love to read trash.

[youaremysunshine-court]

When you're shit at baking, but you want to bake a passive aggressive cake for your boyfriend-not-boyfriend. So you enlist your brother to help you, forgetting that you're brothers from the same mother, and thus share the same weaknesses. At the end of the day, can anyone really blame you?

Written for @twinyardsappreciationweek day 2 - Disaster.