Fic or Treat 2024: Ren's Door
Sep. 30th, 2024 04:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quillpunk
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ficortreatRen the Ghost's Door
DW username:
quillpunkLight is on for: Anybody :D
What's in the Bowl? Fic (drabbles-or-longer)
Let Me Know: Fandom + Pairing (or just fandom if you're fine with me doing whatever pairing I want <3), prompt if you have one :D (for example a premise, like 'trapped in the rain', or just a word, like 'rain')
Other info: I will not write sexual content, gore, underage, M/F or F/F pairings, and will not do anything that's on my usual DNW list (barring 1st person POV if I feel it works). I reserve the right to say 'no' to any request I feel I can't write/that makes me uncomfortable. If you've got DNWs for your request, you can include/link to them and I'll do my best to avoid them, as long as they don't box me in/contradict your request :)
I'm open to requests for any fandom/pairing I've written before on
I can also be convinced to try out a new fandom if; I can get my hands on the source material, it's short enough that I can consume it in less than a month (since this is a Halloween event! So for example probably not an eleven season tv show, LOL), it's a slash (m/m) pairing, and I think it's something that I can write for. That might not end up being the case! I might not be able to get my hands on it, or I might not be able to write for it, etc. I will let you know if I can't do your request :( You're definitely welcome to request something else in that case!
I particularly like horror, sci-fi, fantasy, mysteries, and sitcoms, if you want to ask for something I've never written before :)
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Date: 2024-09-30 06:07 pm (UTC)I come dressed as Darth Vader (the only costume I still have) and request a Merlin drabble, prompt of 'incidental magic' with whomever feels best suited.
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Date: 2024-10-03 04:49 pm (UTC)I present a Merlin fic! :D
Merlin hears a noise much like a gurgling river, and then a great swath of fire is rushing up and out of the floor grate that, through a lot of winding tunnels and suspicious twists and turns, eventually connects to the great dragon's dungeon. It's followed by a sound not unlike a constipated burp as the fire dissipates, and Merlin winces, shoulders drawing up.
"What," Arthur clearly enunciates, "was that?"
"A natural disaster?" Merlin tries, stepping in front of the smoking grate and spreading out as if he can somehow prevent Arthur from seeing it, and Arthur merely levels him with a decidedly unamused look, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows. They start twitching after a moment, when Merlin doesn't do whatever a good servant would do in this situation, but Merlin is a little bit too worried that the dragon might have just blown his cover to worry about Arthur's opinion of skills right now. "Move, Merlin," Arthur finally snaps, and attempts to shoulder past him, because he's always shouldering somewhere.
Merlin draws himself up tight and says, "I'll have you know spontaneous fires often occur around here. It's nothing to be concerned about!"
"Do they now?" Arthur's eye twitches. A servant behind him attempts to cover a laugh in a cough, and Merlin chooses to think they're laughing at Arthur.
Nodding, Merlin decides to go all in. "You're just always missing it, out and about on your hunts and whatnot."
"You mean my duty to the realm?"
"That, yes. Keeps you very busy, sire. And we all forgive you."
"Forgive-" Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose. He waves a hand. A servant rushes forth with a bucket of water and tosses it at the grate. And Merlin. Because Merlin didn't move. This is what real magicians do, he reminds him, freezing and sputtering and brushing water out of his eyes while Arthur doesn't even pretend he's not laughing.
They stand in the way of stray princes (who really aren't usually all the way down here) finding dragons with colds.
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Date: 2024-10-03 09:57 pm (UTC)I love it!
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Date: 2024-10-03 03:44 pm (UTC)I see you've written some Original Work before on your AO3. Would you be open to some prompts for OW or would you prefer fandom requests?
Thank you for this offer :D
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Date: 2024-10-03 04:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-03 07:49 pm (UTC)I've had a think and hope these prompts are fun or inspiring :D
Collector needing one more item to complete his collection/Guy who has that item
Lonely or bored spaceship pilot/Robot he finds adrift in deep space
Guy stuck in Groundhog Day loop/The only person he trusts to tell about the loop
🎃
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Date: 2024-10-23 04:07 pm (UTC)halloween is getting closer! :D here's a fic :DDD (also on ao3)
"I see," said Lester von Brandt, and nodded. "Then let's get married."
"...What?" Greg asked far too late, Lester had already whipped out a fun and, because he always muttered it out loud when he was using the search bar, Greg knew full well he was looking up how to get married to a guy as quickly as possible.
"You won't part with the vase. It's a family heirloom. I've already offered you lots and lots of money, which you've declined. You have absolutely no interest in negotiating with me, correct?" Lester looked at Greg over his elegant silver glasses, and Greg nodded, blinking. "So we'll get married. Then it'll be my 'family heirloom' as well. Problem solved."
Then Lester lit up, his expressionless face twisting into the smallest and yet somehow the prettiest smile Greg had ever seen, Lester apparently finding what he was searching for, and Greg looked at him and thought, huh.
Marriage.
"You're a millionaire," Greg pointed out, "I'm pretty sure you can't just marry whoever."
"I don't give a fuck," said Lester, brows furrowing as he read something. "I'm marrying you, I'm getting that vase, and we'll live happily ever after."
"...Huh," said Greg, and leaned back on his chair. Lester had been trying to get him to sell it for over half a year; probably, Greg though, Lester had had some kind of breakdown because he wasn't used to being told no. He was kind of mean, really, and stiff, tight-laced, and remarkably driven to get everything he wanted. They'd spoken far too often, as Lester made his offers and his thinly-veiled threats, and then escalated to
Huh. Maybe Greg wanted to marry him.
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Date: 2024-10-29 05:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-29 07:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-04 01:41 pm (UTC)rings doorbell and adjusts Loki's short-horned crown thingie
Hey! :)
I saw you've written for Star Trek DS9, so would you write something with Garak and Q? Maybe Q pranking Elim, or the other way around?
Or if crossovers are okay, maybe Snape from Harry Potter ends up on DS9 and the first person he meets is Q?
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Date: 2024-10-23 09:15 pm (UTC)a fic! (also on ao3)
"Aha," Q spoke, in that particular way he sometimes spoke when in the mood, "You are no match for my wit, nor, I should think, my charm!"
Garak said, "And you are a singularly difficult customer to tailor for, I shall say." He smiled, at Q's narrowed eyes. "A compliment, I assure you."
"Well, that's well and good," Q said. He adjusted his new clothing, looking into the mirror and wondering at all the glitter. As far as he'd seen, that wasn't in fashion right now. But Garak was a very good tailor, in addition to all the other things he also was, and the rainbow pattern spoke to a part of Q that knew two things; 1) that he looked good in everything and 2) that he looked extra good in spite.
Ergo, this outfit suited him to a T.
Smiling, Q preened and straightened his back, and Garak stuck him with a needle. A small price to pay, all things told.
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Date: 2024-10-24 07:39 am (UTC)💜 This is so on point! :D Love their bantering! Especially Q's musing that he looks extra good in spite. chef's kiss ^^
Thank you so much. Would you "officially" gift it to me on AO3? My name there is TheFruitBat as well.
Have a great and spooky Samhain! 🦇
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Date: 2024-10-24 02:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-11 04:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-28 04:49 pm (UTC)(no worries, it worked out!) a gift! (also on ao3)
I dreamed about Benlian, of course. It was impossible not to; I think I used to hate it. I remember the way one faintly remembers that hideous feeling of falling in a dream and waking when one hits the ground, a sort of burrowing resentment, a sort of twisting, curling flicker of despair. But those feelings vanished, naturally, when Benlian did what he did; that kind of hold he had on me, and still has, I suppose, could excise any unnatural hatred the way I could step on an ant.
So I dreamed about Benlian. I still do, naturally. I dreamed, and sometimes in my dreams, we touched. I shall not say where or how or even why---though the why should of course be obvious---but I think I used to long for those dreams.
In them, Benlian was withering, the way he was withering in reality. He was performing a magnificent feat, and that did not cease in the dreams. Too, I think, he was aware; at least he was aware enough even in his sleep to not cease the great migration. I remember flashes of those old dreams, sometimes, and I think how lucky I was to get to be a part of it, that awesome movement, if only just for a second. For in dreams, we would touch, and I could feel that aching emptiness, that total longing, that overwhelming desire for more.
I was hungry, in those dreams, in a way I've never been in reality. I think some of that hunger must have been Benlian's, but what he was feasting upon I didn't know. In truth, I didn't much care then and I don't much care now. To have Benlian, surrounding and eating upon my very thoughts... consuming me, in a way... well, I rather thought it was the most magnificent thing.
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Date: 2024-10-28 05:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-29 07:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-16 12:38 am (UTC)I took a peek at your Ao3, and I was wondering if you'd be up to writing some Buck/Eddie from 9-1-1? Some prompts are "lost sock" and "accidental swap", whatever you like best 👻 Thank you!
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Date: 2024-10-28 09:12 pm (UTC)a gift :D (also on ao3)
"Huh," says Buck, tilting his head. This is the fourth pair of socks that has been tragically split up in this load of laundry, its partner nowhere to be found. Tilting his head further, he furrows his brows when he finds another mismatched sock almost instantly. "Huh," he says again, scratching at his neck.
"Something wrong?" Eddie asks, sticking his head around the corner.
Buck ducks his head and morosely spills the horribile truth. "I've lost like half my socks, at this point. I don't think I have any proper pairs left."
"Right," Eddie says, and Buck's brows furrow deeper. But Eddie adds, "I've been meaning to tell you, there's a pile of your socks at my place." Then Eddie walks into the laundry room and rests his hand on the small of Buck's back, and Buck shivers, gulping way too obviously. Eddie doesn't miss it, eyelids going hodded and eyes darkening, and Buck bites his lip. "Would you like some help?" Eddie asks, and he's looking at Buck. Just looking at him, and yet it's enough to send Buck's heart into overdrive.
Stomach fluttering, Buck clears his throat. Then he clears it again. Then he ducks his head and looks at Eddie from below his eyelashes, and Eddie's gaze grows heavier still. "Sure," Buck manages to say at last, and so Eddie does, standing beside him, so close they're plastered together as they fold the laundry.
Technically, Buck supposes, Eddie's presence isn't very helpful—neither of them can concentrate much. But Buck doesn't mind, and he doesn't think Eddie does, either. Not when Eddie's looking at him like that.
"Stay over tonight?" Eddie murmurs when they're almost done, the knoeldge that Eddie needs to go back home hanging over them, and Buck's nodding before he can even think of it.
"'Course," he says, grinning, and Eddie smiles back. It's beatiful, and his touch is gentle when he grabs Buck's hand, and—
Buck can't breathe.
(He doesn't much want to.)
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Date: 2024-10-16 09:33 pm (UTC)Prompt: Voldemort/Malfoy, Voldemort/Anyone, or Slytherin/Slytherin. And a word: sickle, ember, talisman, fruit!
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Date: 2024-10-31 04:41 pm (UTC)happy halloween (also on ao3)
Draco sneaked into the hidden room in the basement, cradling an armful of fruit to his nonexistnet bosom, and he grimaced sligthly at the faint smell of rot in the air. But the Nagini was waiting right where he left her, and he bent to his knees before her, the fruit tumbling onto the floor. Hissing, she slithered over and swallowed a pear in one go, then a pumpkin, then a few apples and the lone tomato. There was a handful of strawberries, too, that she nosed but didn't eat, and then she slithered around him and let him pet her.
"So this is what you've been up to," Lord Voldemort said, stepping out of the shadows and frightening Draco into utter incoherence, his thoughts spilling from his mind like sand through a sieve, and the man—the most powerful Dark Lord of all time—laughed in that kind of snake-y way of his. Waved a hand, and said, "Oh, don't be afraid," Lord Voldemort hissed, "Nagini is a good friend to have."
"I—yes, my lord," Draco bowed his head, and Nagini hissed at the Dark Lord. Shuddering, Draco waited for his fate to be meted out. Lately, Lord Voldemort had begun to look somewhat human—it had something to do with that diadem Draco had found in the Room of Requirement last year, the one that stank of magic so dark he didn't even touch it with his bare hand, just shoved it in his trunk and smuggled it home. The last thing he'd expected was Nagini's excitement when she broke into his trunk upon his return and slithered off with it.
But Lord Voldemort had seemed—different, the next day.
And yet again in the day after.
Now, Lord Voldemort looked at Draco canoodling with his snake and didn't kill him, nor torture, nor even scold him. He only said, "Don't overfeed her," and leaned against the wall, not moving another muscle, gaze heavy upon Draco. Gulping, Draco slowly resumed his petting of Nagini, and she once more deigned to put her head in his lap, allowing him to cuddle her.
And the Dark Lord watched, and said not a word. Even when he followed Draco up into the manor and joined him for dinner.
And then did so again, the following evening.
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Date: 2024-10-17 06:07 am (UTC)Can I get a fic, please? The prompts I have are: Monsters, characters in a haunted house, and Will-o'-the-wisp (Original work, or if you feel like you have a fandom+pairing that would work well I'm happy with that too). Thanks! =)
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Date: 2024-10-31 04:39 pm (UTC)happy halloween! (also on ao3)
"Ehem," said Willoughby, the most obnoxious person Lee had ever met, and stepped up to the ghost. "As you can see, there is no ghost here. There might appear to be, but that is merely your mind playing tricks on you. It is, after all, a dark and stormy night."
"Will," said Lee, pinching the bridge of his nose, "This is the fourth haunted house you've moved into in a year."
"Nonsense," said Will, frowning at him. "There's no such things as ghosts." And he harrumphed, too, because he was always harrumphing. The ghost sulked beside him, swaying in the air and looking at Lee like Lee could fix this so the ghost could go back to being terryfying again, but all Lee could do was shrug and incline his head in apology. There was nothing he could to for Will's stubbornness.
"So why am I hear then, if you don't believe in ghosts and you don't believe in psychics?" Lee grumbled, and lightning flashed outside, for a moment illuminating the dozen ghosts surrouding them.
"I feel much better when you're staying the night. I do wish you'd agree to marry me, you know," Will said, like he'd ever said something like that before when he very much had not, Lee would remember it. And while Lee's mouth flopped about uselessly, Will added, "But I'll settle for your company for the night. Come, join me in the drawing room, and let's have a drink and a game of chess, and this unsettling feeling with vanish, I'm abosultely certain."
And so Lee went with him, and they drank, and played chess, and it was only later that night, lying in bed next to Will, that Lee thought, damn it. He'd have to marry the stubborn old fool, if only to keep him safe from all the ghosts he attracted like moths to a flame.
Really, though, how did he keep finding haunted houses?
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Date: 2024-11-03 03:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-29 08:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-31 04:38 pm (UTC)happy halloween! (also on ao3)
Derek looks around the corner, and Stiles sticks his head out behind, too, getting just a glimpse of the ghost slowly stalking through the long hall, then Derek shoves him back with an annoyed frown. "Sorry," mouths Stiles, hiding behind him again, and then has to instantly muffle a scream with his hands over his face, staring over Derek's shoulder where the ghost now stands, towering above them.
When Derek turns as if to look, Stiles grabs his face and smashes a kiss onto his lips. Derek's noise of surprise is muffled between them, and then Derek is kissing him back and Stiles is slowly stepping away from the dark figure that once was the owner of the house. "Run," mouths Stiles into Derek's mouth, trying not to be heard by the ghost, but all Derek does is kiss him deeper, and then they just kind of kiss for a bit.
The ghost's still right there when Stiles opens his eyes. At least Derek must react to the skip of Stiles' heart, because he finally glances back and spots it, too. This time, when Stiles mouths run, they do.
The ghost follows them all the way to the front of the house, each smooth step crossing it over two meters, and it takes them a good hour of running to find the exit, the house looping back on them over and over. The ghost never tires, and when they're finally out, Stiles collapses on the dead grass and stares at the doorway the ghost fills up with it's long, strange limbs, simply standing there and staring at them. "Never again," wheezes Stiles, and Derek sits beside him, frowning and patting him until he calms down.
At least Derek's cute, Stiles thinks, when he frowns like that and hesitantly tries to comfort Stiles.
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Date: 2024-11-01 04:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-11-02 12:16 am (UTC)