#this is longer than the actual draft so

[sambambucky]

Wip game: lol that one movie but a horror fr

hiii ty! so... it's a space horror...? in the middle of a long range mission to relocate an entire population to a new planet across the galaxy, an error causes sam to wake up long before he was supposed to.

bucky, the only other human awake, has the terrible responsibility of informing sam that there's no way to put them back into cryosleep and they don't have enough supplies to survive the trip. they'll die on the ship together, lightyears before they ever make it to their destination.

maybe a space tragedy..? spoilery outline/rambling under the cut!

ok so i did have to look it up because i did not ever watch the movie, but this is vagule based on passengers (2016), more specifically on an episode of a podcast that i dont actually listen to anymore (miss you mid 2010s era Cracked podcast) where they would sometimes talk about 'bad' movies that had the potential to be WAY better if you changed a character or the ending or focused on a different part (hancock is one of my fave examples of this and i WILL die on that hill)

again, i dont know what happens in the actual movie, but in the fic..

-sam starts in denial, and bucky dutifully goes through the motions of trying to help sam fix their cryopods even though you can't; he's already spent an eternity trying everything -they hate each other, actually. seriously. they spend all of their time yelling at each other, and then sniping at each other, then just bickering, and eventually mostly just talking, getting to know each other -naturally something goes wrong, a classic space accident. they think fast and work in sync to save the rest of their sleeping crew and passengers, and well, there are worse people they could have been stuck with -bucky has to tell him. eventually -they fuck with the AI, dance in zero g, read books to each other, watch movies on a tiny screen, pull up the ship's manifest and make up stories about the people they'll never meet

-they pile into a tiny bed and dream about what they could have been if they'd met 50 years ago on inhabitable earth -they fall in love, or, whatever version of love there is to find between two people who only have each other in the oppressive vastness of space

-bucky confesses to sam, can barely make himself say the words but, he tells him that the only malfunction was with his cryochamber, that the only reason sam was defrosted is because bucky's a bad person, half crazy with loneliness by the time he even let himself think to do something so terrible, and he still tried not to do it, but his selfishness won out in the end -sam calls him a monster, a murderer, and swears to never speak to him again for the rest of their lives -they spend six sleep cycles apart, ten more not speaking, before sam chooses to forgive him. what else can he do? -the space ship - their prison, their home - is struck by space debris, or is attacked by pirates, does it even matter? bucky's bleeding out, bucky is dying in sam's arms, using his last breath to tell sam he loves him, to apologize, to swear that this time with sam has been the happiest time in his entire life

-so sam has to do this alone

-sam can do this alone

-he follows a routine, he takes care of himself and the ship

-he misses bucky more than he can even comprehend

-he grieves the future he was promised, the person he was supposed to be

-and, thanks to Cracked Podcast!!!, it closes with sam looking grave, mouth in a thin, unhappy line. his hand hovers over a glowing green 'defrost' button

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

Heroes of Millennium (HoM) AU

Act 1: What was left behind. - Part 1 (page 1-5) -here- -> Part 2

[chasing-the-persea]

Imagine Percy having a really rough day. His power, what he’s done, who he’s had to be to do those things, are weighing on him. Frankly, he scares himself. He doesn’t know how any sane person would want him around, much less around kids, especially as a counselor.

He puts on a brave face. Maybe if he looks happy no one will remember there’s a person behind that face who can’t look at himself in the mirror.

He doesn’t know how it happened; maybe he agreed to it when he was lost in his mind, putting on the “chill older counselor” face everyone expects, but he finds himself in the sand volleyball pit on the team of campers from the less populated cabins. The Demeter and Hermes cabin teamed up on the other side.

The game itself is a fog to Percy. The only breaks in his gloom come in the form of reminders: that’s only a volleyball (images of a giant hurling rocks at him flash in front of his eyes). they’re calling the ball (the sound of campers crying out for help in countless battles echo in his head). that’s just sand (the phantom touch of Gaia’s earth brush his legs)

Before he knows it his team is cheering: they won. He doesn’t know how–or if–he contributed any. He chastises himself. A good leader wouldn’t let themselves be distracted. Wouldn’t…his shoes are gone.

He could’ve swore they were right there? If he wasn’t so caught up with himself he would know where he put his shoes, that’s so stupid what would have happened if he was in battle and he got distracted, then it’d be on his head if another camper got killed again because of him, he shouldn’t have even played what was he thinking—

A Hermes kid was holding them up, taunting him, retaliating for their loss. He took one step towards them and they took two steps away. Their face was…playful? This was a prank. They’re pranking him. Don’t they know what he’s done, why their cabin is so empty now?

He took another step. This time the kid let out a excited laugh and ran a few feet away. This was a game. For fun. The kid knows but doesn’t care. They just want to have fun with an older counselor. camper. cousin. whatever the relation, they genuinely just want to mess with him.

But why would they—unless. Unless they aren’t afraid of him.

They see him as a leader, and like any other rotten kid, they want to tease whoever’s in charge. The kid is just being a kid, doing kid things. Like stealing someone's shoes and knowing they won't be hurt because of it. Because they believe Percy is good.

He tries to ignore the similarities on the kids face to one he knew so well, one he thought was good when he was the kids age.

I'm not Luke, he reminded himself. A tiny whisper in a corner of his mind hissed how are you any different?

He looked at the kid again, who was still holding out the shoes, attempting to lure him into a chase. The kid took a couple more steps away, grinning wildly as Percy’s face set in determination.

I’m going to be the person Luke needed, and the one he never was for me. We deserve better.

He sprinted after the Hermes kid, laughing lighter than he had in months.

[nostalgia-tblr]

It's time for me to admit something.

I am still a bit confused about how back in the beginning of the Loki series Mobius is introduced to us as "special[ising] in the pursuit of dangerous Variants." But like. That doesn't seem to be a thing that the TVA really... do? They mostly seem to spot nexus events and pop to the new branch and prune it, bringing back the person who caused that nexus event to give them a show-trial and then prune them too.

There's no reason they can't do more than one thing, but what exactly are "dangerous variants"? From the TVA perspective they're all equally troublesome, and they'll be picked up as soon as they do something 'wrong', and the TVA/HWR don't actually care about the moral value or otherwise of that 'wrong' thing. Have I got that right?

They're chasing Sylvie but a) she's targeting the TVA themselves and b) she's got a means to travel from one timeline to another, which she got from the TVA and unless those get stolen a lot..

I'm willing to just roll with it anyway if it doesn't really fit but what am I missing here? EXPLAIN. (pls?)

[nonsensical-pendulum]

what if i. wrote

[primussavethesemechs]

So for all you bringing up a tmnt 2012 and rise! Crossover, first of all- YES yes yes yes

First things first

//ROTTMNT MOVIE SPOILERS//

Ok so- I’ve seen people bring up potential angst at 2012 seeing rise! Splinter since they lost theirs, and separately from the crossover I’ve seen plenty of Leo dying in the prison dimension, and plenty of ideas on how that could’ve happened, but I haven’t seen anyone connect the two yet

Here me out

2012 turtles get shuttled into the Rise!Universe through whatever means, and Donnie is the first to land. He gets separated from the others and is found by the rise!Turtles while trying to find his way back to them. Since the 2012 bros have been through this kinda thing before he’s not too shocked (although the Rise gang obviously is). He mentions that his brothers should be back there where he first dropped in and that they should go find them before they start figuring out a way home. He’s definitely weirded out by Raph being in charge but he knows shit gets weird in diff universes and since he hasn’t seen their Leo yet he figures this Raph might just be in defacto leader mode while their Leo is out on solo patrol.

This all obviously goes to shit almost immediately when the groups meet, as the 2012 bros already figured out what’s going on but are still shocked to see a huge Raph escorted by their Donnie. It gets much worse when Raph notices there’s a fourth turtle with a blue bandanna. He looks nothing like his own Leo, and doesn’t seem anything like him either from his calmer disposition, but he’s still a Leo and hearing that name is enough.

Cue a clueless Leo being swarmed by a crying Mikey for hugs, Raph having dropped to his knees, still processing the thought that there’s a version of Leo that Lived, how happy it makes him that one survived, how angry he is that theirs didn’t, and how much it might’ve been his fault. Rise!Donnie is more standoffish than ever, backing away in horror? Fear? A swirl of emotions that he couldn’t identify, staring at this twisted funhouse mirror version of his lost twin, a distorted ghost of what used to be.

None of the 2012 brothers know what to do or even really whats happening, but after processing Mikey’s sobs about how he missed him, raph finally taking his turn to shed some tears but willing himself not to yank this unfamiliar version of his brother into a stranglehold of a hug, and the distinct lack of a another Leo, they slowly dawned on the horrifying realization that this version of their family seemed to be missing a brother.

———

I’ve been writing a longer version of this, something more like a ficlet, but I thought I’d put the concept out there first and see if people like it!

[tsurugis]

My mother in law finished my first book in the trilogy I’m writing and I’m dead because she loves it skjndjkdhidj she read the last hundred fifty pages in nearly one sitting and said it’s the strongest part of the book but that it’s well worth how “slow” the beginning is because by the time shit starts going down you really know the characters well I’m dead. she’s weird as hell about books and it’s not her genre but I live with her and I know she wouldn’t be able to fake liking it she can be mean as hell pfpflkjf

[rillabrooke]

okay why did i ever stop writing on paper??

[wavetapper]

nekomata master is super good music for working to honestly

[icewindandboringhorror]

various little Pictures of thinges

[clotpolesonly]

In The Stacks

for @sunflowerqueen for the Stiles Shipping Central discord server's monthly ficlet exchange, the prompt for which was "libraries/bookstores"! this one probably only qualifies as pre-slash 😅 but i hope it satisfies anyway, haha | Stoyd | 1.5k | Gen | Libraries | Pre-Slash | Anxiety | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | (also on AO3)

.

Stiles didn’t go to the library very often. It was a quiet place, and Stiles was not a quiet person. He was also more adept at internet searches than he was at navigating the Dewey Decimal System, and he didn’t have the patience for poring through book after book after book looking for something that he could’ve just control+F searched for if it had been digital.

But sometimes, unfortunately, professors wanted you to prove you actually knew how to read. Thus, here Stiles was, entering the Beacon Hills Community College library for the first time, seven months into his journey of higher education. He’d been hoping to hold out the whole first year, just for kicks. He tried not to resent his Violence and Social Conflict in American History professor for requiring he break his streak and began scanning the stacks for whatever arbitrary shelf number corresponded with social conflict.

He’d found naturalism and related systems, Aristotelian philosophy, and general statistics of Europe when something drew him up short. The shelves weren’t exactly packed full—it was mid-afternoon on a Friday, the sun was shining, and the library was nobody’s first choice in those circumstances—but Stiles had passed his fair share of other students so far, none of the slightest bit familiar. But here, in the public finances aisle, was a very familiar face.

Stiles had entirely forgotten that Boyd went to this school too. He hadn’t seen him on campus all year. He’d barely seen him anywhere else either, only in passing when Scott was back in town from UC Davis and needed to do werewolf stuff, tucked into the backseat of Derek’s car or hovering impatiently at the edge of the woods. As much as Stiles had tried—and he'd really tried—he had never managed to get Boyd to look at him twice, much less be friends with him.

Him and Scott. Stiles had wanted Boyd to be friends with them, not just him. To be part of the pack and stuff. Hadn’t Boyd gotten the bite so he could have friends? Stiles had offered to be that friend! Collectively, with other people!

The specifics weren’t important. Obviously, it hadn’t worked.

Stiles was just opening his mouth to comment on how unlikely and fortuitous it was for them to run into each other like this and maybe it was a sign that they should try the whole “friend” thing again when he heard the wheezing. He stopped to actually take in what he was seeing.

Boyd had folded his considerable height onto the floor. His back was pressed up against the lowest shelf, head tipped back into a space absent of books, eyes closed tightly. His hands were clenched into fists on his knees. His breathing was strained enough for Stiles to hear it from the end of the row, sounding tight and pained and also, unfortunately, familiar.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Boyd’s eyes snapped open, flashing yellow. Stiles glanced around hastily to make sure there was no one to see, but this particular patch of the library was blessedly empty. By the time he looked back, Boyd’s eyes were brown again and his face was slack with relief.

“Stiles,” he said. “What are you—”

He didn’t finish the question, distracted by the need to breathe. Stiles approached with caution. Not because he thought Boyd might lose control or hurt him, but because he’d had panic and anxiety attacks than he could shake a stick at and company didn’t always help the situation.

He half-expected Boyd to snap at him. That’s what he’d done most of the time in high school, whenever Stiles had tried to ingratiate himself. He’d gotten a little more chill about it over the course of senior year, even going so far as to tolerate Stiles’ presence at the same lunch table, but Stiles’ presence had never been his favorite thing.

He didn’t snap this time. In fact, the closer Stiles got to him, the less tense he seemed to become. The fists on his knees loosened to reveal splotches of red where his hidden claws had dug into his palms, cuts already healed. His shoulders slumped, bit by bit, from where they’d been hiked up around his ears. He wasn’t wheezing anymore.

Gingerly, Stiles eased himself to the floor, leaving a good few inches between them. Somehow, against every natural inclination, he managed to not say anything. He just pulled a random book off the shelf across from him and started skimming.

It was a few minutes before Boyd shifted beside him. “What are you doing here, Stilinski?” he asked, voice hoarse.

Stiles shrugged. “I go here too.”

He wasn’t looking, but he was almost certain Boyd rolled his eyes. “Not on campus. I mean…”

Stiles shrugged again, his nonchalance a little less genuine this time. He didn’t look up from his book. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay. I can leave, if you want.”

He waited for Boyd to tell him to fuck off. He’d skimmed another four pages before he realized that he wasn’t going to. Tentatively, Stiles glanced over at him. He found Boyd already looking at him, a frown on his face that, for once, didn’t look annoyed.

“I hate living on campus,” Boyd told him, unprompted. “There’s too many people. Too many strangers.” He looked away, a muscle in his jaw flexing as he clenched his teeth. “Apparently, being kidnapped twice gives you trust issues where strangers are concerned.”

Stiles couldn’t stop a snort from escaping. “Yeah, go figure. I’m not great at making new friends either. And I only got kidnapped the once.”

The huff of breath that Boyd let out, just short of a laugh, should not have made Stiles feel as accomplished as it did. In his defense, he had been trying to make Boyd laugh for literal years. When Boyd turned his face back, he was smiling. Just barely, but it was there. That felt even better.

“I was gonna get food,” he heard himself say. “I mean, I was gonna find some books, and then I was gonna get food, afterwards. If you maybe wanted to— I mean, you don’t have to, it’s fine, I just thought maybe—”

“Okay.”

Stiles blinked at him. “Wait, really? Like, actually? You’ve never been willing to be seen with me in public before. Or tolerated my presence out of either.”

Boyd definitely rolled his eyes this time, but the little smile stayed. He levered himself off the ground and said, “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Stiles saw, though, the way that he looked over his shoulder, eyes roving the stacks like he couldn’t help it. Still searching for threats. He also saw the flare of Boyd’s nostrils as he breathed in and the way his eyes were drawn back to Stiles. Empathy wasn’t Stiles’ strongest suit, and he’d never been accused of being particularly perceptive where other people’s feelings were concerned, but Stiles was almost certain of three things in that moment: firstly, that Boyd did not want to be alone right now and was choosing to allow Stiles to keep him company; secondly, that Boyd was deliberately seeking out his scent and getting comfort from it; and thirdly, that, friends or not, Boyd trusted him.

When Boyd held out a hand, Stiles took it and let himself be pulled off the floor with an ease that was, and had always been, downright distracting. Equally distracting was the knowledge that it would’ve been just that easy even without the werewolf strength—what did Boyd need werewolfiness for when he had biceps like that?

Stiles patted the bicep in question, which Boyd allowed with an unusual amount of patience, and said, “Books! Then food! I gotta find some books.”

He looked around them. They were, in fact, surrounded by books. So many books. Why did libraries have to have so many fucking books? How was anybody supposed to find anything in this place? He said as much out loud and, wonder of all wonders, Boyd laughed. A real one this time, complete with vocalization and dimples and everything. Fuck.

Boyd took pity on him, possibly mistaking his dazedness for simple library-related overwhelm. “What are you looking for? Unlike you, I actually know how to navigate a library like a normal person.”

Stiles told him, and Boyd led the way through the shelves with a confidence that was as attractive as everything else about him. He helped Stiles carry the dozen books he decided he needed down to check-out. He even let Stiles talk about them over lunch, something like fondness hanging around the upturned corner of his mouth, without a single complaint.

Maybe it was just gratitude for Stiles sitting with him, but that was okay. It was progress from where they’d started, and as Stiles drove Boyd back to his dorm, he thought that maybe he would be seeing that familiar face a little more often from now on.

[short-and-ugly]

lmao.

[homosexual-fanfiction]

hmm... i dont want to lock myself in to super long chapters but the need to swap around the chapter breaks to up the drama is so strong

[aria0fgold]

Whumptober day 16, alternative prompt used: Brass Knuckles and Whumptober day 22 prompt: Glass Shard

Characters: Mel, Marigold Ages: 15, 29

Mel hissed as Mari applied ointment on his injuries. A swollen cheek, cracked lips, several cuts and bruises all over, he even seemed to have sprained his ankle as well, though he wasn't certain of that, not when the only pain he can feel is from his other foot that had glass shards lodged into it earlier. It was quite an unfair fight, 5 people with some wielding weapons, a bat, brass knuckles, or whatever. Yet even with those advantages, they still lost, pathetically running with tails between their legs.

“Aight, ya got any excuse bout this?” Mari continued to tend to his wounds, one of her pals saw him and ran to get her. So here they are, in one of their hideouts closest to the area. There was a small frown on her face, he can't quite tell if she's mad at him or the people he fought.

He merely stayed silent, he didn't have to energy to explain anything to her nor does he have the energy to even talk at all. He just wanted to get to bed, to hell with his injuries, infection be damned, he didn't care about anything anymore, he just wanted to collapse somewhere and never wake up.

“Mm… Well, should've expected that silence.”

Mel groaned, rolling his eyes and looking away, anywhere to distract himself, the pain wasn't a problem to him, he had worse before, what was the problem however, was Mari herself. He can't understand her at all. A gang leader famously known to be scary and strong, caring and tending for a brat she found half-dead in an alleyway. He sometimes thinks it would've been better for him to have died then. What was the point?

Why would she even bother to look after a stranger's kid, completely unrelated to her? His parents didn't even bother to care for him the way she's doing. So what's the point?

“Hey.” Mari snapped her fingers in front of him.

Mel frowned, “What?”

Mari put a hand on her hip, looking him up and down, “Hmm… Anyone ever told ya yer easy to read?”

He huffed out a sigh, “Yeah, the people I just beat up.”

She whistled, her lips forming into a smirk, “Oooh, look at that. Ya plan on fightin' be next too, aye?”

Mel glared at her.

She merely chuckled at him, “Maybe wait when yer all healed up. Wouldn't mind a spar with a lil zombie.”

“Seriously, just say what you wanted to say. Stop with that shit.”

“Heeh… Already said all that I wanted.” She shrugged, “Ya know, that gloomy look don't suit ya. Want me to tell ya bout that time I found ya?”

Mel let out a loud groan, “Shut it then. I don't wanna hear it anymore.” He'd heard that story countless of times already, far too much to keep track of, he never understood why she liked talking about it so much.

Mari didn't seem to listen, “You were sitting all bloodied at that alley--”

“I told you to shut it.” Mel grabbed a shoe nearby, throwing it at Mari who caught it with ease and an annoyingly smug expression.

She laughed, annoying him even further. She can be so unbearable at times, yet Mel can't truly bring himself to hate it. If anything, he hated that it brought him a sense of comfort.

He clicked his tongue as he stood, though he stumbled forward, Mari was there to steady him by grabbing onto his arm.

“Here, here, I'll carry ya.” She turned, bending down to carry him on a piggyback.

“No--”

“Aish! I aint taking no as an answer from ya! Ya can't even stand well! If ya don't want a piggyback then I'll carry ya like those princesses.”

Mel grumbled as he climbed on her back, tugging at her hair in irritation when she laughed, though it didn't quite stop her from laughing even more.

“Anyway, bout time ya tell me bout those brats ya fought.”

“So what? You can get revenge for me?”

“I aint giving ya that luxury! Ya get revenge on yer own, but those idiots did step into my territory so someone oughtta teach em a lesson not to.”

Mel chuckled, “My information comes with a payment. And payment first.”

Mari grumbled, “Aight, aight! Whatever! Tell me what ya want then!”

Mel laughed, a genuine laughter for the first time in so long, yet he didn't realize it as such. All that he knew then was, it wasn't so bad living like this.

[sysig]

Back, beast >:0 (Patreon)

[revvethasmythh]

8 days ago my longfic wip was sitting at 17k and had been for weeks, and today I passed 30k. I have no idea what changed in my brain chemistry to allow this to happen, but honestly thank fuck