#fictober18

Fandom: Gravity Falls ||  CW: -  ||  “Impressive, truly.”

______(~400 words)______

"Impressive, truly." Ford deadpanned.

"You got any other bright ideas?"

Looking at the gloves that Stanley had pushed pens into the 6th spots to fill out, he realized it's actually one of the better aspects of this entire plan... which is dismal to think on for more than a few seconds, so he didn't.

"No. I don't." Ford admitted, straightening Stan's outfit on himself. Reasonably, it makes sense it fits perfectly, but he didn't like that it does as thought it might as well belong on him.

Stan is silent for a beat. "Look," he started, "all you gotta do is tell me it'll end the world and fight with me. We got tons of experience with that last part."

"I never wanted to drag you into this. Fighting Bill. I was supposed to have done this myself." Ford realizes these are the last seconds he can see Stan as himself, but he keeps watch down the hallway instead for Bill's return.

Stan scoffed. "This stopped being just your fight the second he messed with the kids. Hell before then too." There was an awkward space of breath like he had been going to say something else and decided against it.

"It shouldn't have gotten to this point though,  where you're forced to-"

"Sixer." He cuts him off, and Ford feels compelled to look at his brother's face. In the face of this situation, he doesn't look an ounce of a man with no other choice and Ford has never felt so distinctly polar to his own brother before. He looks every bit a hero. 

"I'm doing this because I'm choosing to do it." Stan told him. "Got it?"

Ford nods. "Thank you."

There's the momentary split of a smile and it reaches his eyes, certain and a hint soft. Ford can't remember the last time Stan had directed that smile at him, but he knows it's been over 40 years. 

The resounding cacophony of crashing noises rapidly start getting closer though and they both spin on their heels towards it. There's crumbling dust and bricks that smash onto the floor to split apart. Neither one of them broke their gaze from where Bill would soon be emerging, almost certainly with Dipper and Mabel in hand.

"You worried?" Stan asked quietly

A rough sound escaped Ford's chest. "Yes."

A list of prompts for October. Write something short (or long) and tag it with #fictober18. Let’s see your creativity!

Prompts:

“Can you feel this?”

"People like you have no imagination.”

“How can I trust you?”

“Will that be all?”

“Take what you need.”

“I heard enough, this ends now.”

“No worries, we still have time.”

“I know you do.”

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

“You think this troubles me?”

“But I will never forget!”

“Who could do this?”

“Try harder, next time.”

“Some people call this wisdom.”

“I thought you had forgotten.”

“This is gonna be so much fun!”

“I’ll tell you but you’re not gonna like it.”

“You should have seen it.”

“Oh please, like this is the worst I have done.” 

“I hope you have a speech prepared.”

“Impressive, truly.”

“I know how you love to play games.”

“This is not new, it only feels like it.”

“You knows this, you know this to be true.”

“Go forward, do not stray.”

“But if you cannot see it, is it really there?”

“Remember, you have to remember.”

“I felt it. You know what I mean.”

“At least it can’t get any worse.”

“Do we really have to do this again?”

“I’ve waited so long for this.”

Go forth and write!

@fictober-event // Set in a Multi-fandom Fantasy AU where most if not all kinds of fantasy creatures exist alongside humans, though the two cultures stay fairly separate, with many humans being afraid or prejudice against creatures.

Rating: T Fandom: Dragon Age, Characters: Nelaros (Dragon Age), Elita Tabris (OFC) Ships: Elita Tabris/Nelaros (one-sided) Additional Tags: Modified Origin Story, Prepping for a rescue mission, If you played DAO you know how this is gonna go. 

“Elita, you can’t be serious.”

Elita finished tightening her belt, making sure her sword rested rightly on her hip. “I’ve never been more serious in my whole life.”

Nelaros shook his head. “You know going into that castle will mean your death, right?”

“Yes, I’m aware of that fact.” She raised a brow at her husband. “Your point?”

“My point is I don’t want to lose you.” He took her hand in his, drawing her closer even as she tried to pull away. “I love you, Elita.”

She closed her eyes and the same lie came forth. “I love you too, Nelaros. But I have to do this.” She pulled away fully and started binding her blonde curls back. 

Just that morning, she had done the same thing, but for a much happier reason. Her little sister, Lunari, and her cousin Shianni were finally getting married, Nari to a woodland elf she had met on Pilgrimage and convinced to come to the city with her, and Shianni to a handsome elf from Kirkwall, on the coast. Then during the ceremony, the Arl’s son interrupted and kidnapped the bridal party, might have even gone for Elita except Nelaros had kept her out of the bastard’s view. They were being held in the keep, and Elita had been a servant there for two years. She knew the back halls and servants passages. And so she would lead the rescue party, whether it meant her death or not. 

She took a deep breath as she looked in the mirror one last time. “You remember our wedding, how Vaughn would have taken me if not for the griffon heading him off at the gates. Well the griffon is not here, and Vaughn’s claimed Shianni and Nari in my place. I am not letting him hurt them.” She turned to Nelaros. “So you can either pick up a sword and join me in rescuing them, or get out of my way and try to make peace with the fact you are a craven.”

Nelaros watched her for a moment more, then sighed and went to the chest where they held their weapons. “I will come, to save them and defend you.” His green eyes met her blue. “I would rather die than let anything happen to you.”

Chat Noir approaches Marinette with an odd request.

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

“I felt it.” Chat Noir gave her a playful grin as he handed her a bolt of felt. “You know what I mean?”

Glaring at him, Marinette snatched the fabric from his hand. These nightly visits weren’t exactly anything new - he’d checked on her after an akuma had targeted her specifically, and it sort of built off of that. She didn’t mind really, but it made her curious. Was this something he did with a lot of civilians? Or did she catch his eye somehow?

It was weird, but he seldom came over more than once a week, if that. But everyday for the last few days he’d stopped in like clockwork. It was normally nice to see him while she wasn’t wearing the mask. Seeing him like this… it wasn’t quite that he was unguarded, just that he presented a different face to Marinette than he did Ladybug. One that wasn’t quite as focused on being suave and flirty. More playful, inquisitive. Which reminded her...

“Tell me again why you want these?” She knew the answer, but at least if he was talking then he wasn’t poking around her things or messing with her supplies. It was difficult enough cobbling together this gift, she couldn’t be his minder while she did so.

Playfully smirking, he replied, “Well, when I saw your plushies, I knew I just had to have them!”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I’m the only source of Ladybug and Chat Noir merch. I’m sure you have a Ladybug doll stashed away somewhere in your cat condo.”

“It’s an action figure-” He winced and put on a nonchalant expression. “I mean, no I don’t have any such thing. But!” He continued, over her attempted interruption, “even if I did, this is different. I don’t have a Marinette exclusive first edition plushie. Clearly, I need to get ahead of the growing demand.”

She rolled her eyes, but was touched by his faith in her abilities. “Do you really think people would buy them?”

He tilted his head in confusion. “Well, yes, clearly. I’m buying them, and last I checked I am a people.”

“Woah woah, what? This is a gift, Chat. I’m not taking your money.”

“Then consider it an exchange of gifts where I was super cheap and only got you a gift card. Except instead of a gift card, it’s just money.” He pulled out a pair of twenty euro bills from his pocket. Her immediate reaction was blind anger at him having pockets when her suit didn’t. Surprise soon engulfed the anger.

“Chat, no. I’m not accepting your money.” He pouted at her and she sighed. “Think of it as a thank you for being my first customer, okay?”

“First customer, hm? So you’re planning on making more of these then?”

She stopped working for a moment to wring her hands nervously. “...Do you really think they’d sell? I mean, I probably won’t charge what you were offering to pay for them, but…”

“They’re good, Mari! Don’t sell yourself short.” At the look she gave him, he added, “I might have gone overboard, but it was only by a little bit. Seriously, if you make more of these, I’m certain they’ll sell.” He rested his head on his arms as he sat on the chaise. “Think about it.”

Pleased with his encouragement, she put the remaining last touches on the pair of plushies. “I think I will. Here, your first editions are done.”

Taking the dolls gingerly, he smiled as he looked them over. “They’re perfect. Thank you!” He moved to leave.

“Wait, Chat!” He turned around and she hurriedly gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for believing in me. I’ll let you know how it goes. See you soon?”

Below are ALLLLL my Black Panther fics that I did for Fictober.  Everyday, no skips, in order, never late, OH MY GOD.  This was an experience that I will look back on fondly, but right now, I’m going to sleep this off.  Thanks to everyone that read, plan to read, messaged, liked and reblogged!  

Let me know if any truly interest you enough that I should continue; it’s not outside the realm of possibility!

“Can you feel this?”  (T’Challa)

“People like you have no imagination.” (M’Baku)

“How can I trust you?” (Shuri)

“Will that be all?” (Erik Killmonger)

“Take what you need.” (Erik Killmonger)

“I heard enough, this ends now.” (M’Baku)

“No worries, we still have time.” (T’Challa x Erik Killmonger)

“I know you do.” (T’Challa)

“You shouldn’t have come here.” (Okoye x W’Kabi)

“You think this troubles me?” (T’Challa)

“But I will never forget!” (M’Baku)

“Who could do this?” (Kid!T’Challa x Kid!Nakia)

“Try harder, next time.” (M’Baku) 

“Some people call this wisdom.” (Erik Killmonger)

“I thought you had forgotten.” (T’Challa x Nakia)

“This is gonna be so much fun!” (T’Challa x Steve Rogers x Thor)

“I’ll tell you but you’re not gonna like it.” (T’Challa x Nakia)

“You should have seen it.” (Erik Killmonger)

“Oh please, like this is the worst I have done.” (M’Baku)

“I hope you have a speech prepared.” (T’Challa x Shuri)

“Impressive, truly.” (N’Jobu x N’Jadaka)

“I know how you love to play games.” (M’Baku)

“This is not new, it only feels like it.” (Okoye x M’Baku x Queen Ramonda)

“You knows this, you know this to be true.” (M’Baku)

“Go forward, do not stray.” (Ghost!Okoye x W’Kabi)

“But if you cannot see it, is it really there?” (Ghost!Erik Killmonger)

“Remember, you have to remember.” (Panther!T’Challa)

“I felt it. You know what I mean.” (Undead!Erik Killmonger)

“At least it can’t get any worse.” (VoodooKing!T’Challa)

“Do we really have to do this again?” (Witch!Shuri)

Kink!Fic | Vampires, Thrall -- Gavin900 Heavily inspired by @mercurial-tenacity ‘s amazing grindelgraves fictober update, ugh it was so good it had me some kinda way.

“Why am I here again?” Gavin groused as he slid up to the bar next to Hank, scowl firm on his face. “S’my night off.”

“You were just gonna lurk around some shit hole like this anyway,” Hank said, sliding a beer to Gavin despite the toxicity of their words.

Gavin snorted, popped the top off his beer on the edge of the counter and said, “You don’t know my life, shithead.”

Hank rolled his eyes and jerked his chin over his shoulder to a dark seating area on the far wall, away from the dance floor, and with a blink Gavin realized that Connor was over there.

“What the fuck is he wearing?” Gavin asked, truly too baffled by the robot’s overly large coat, beanie and general dock-worker grunge look to manage to keep up his clever quips.

“Thinks that makes him undercover. Don’t worry about it,” Hank shot back, “Kid’s got a lead on that serial killer we been tracking. A hunch, I guess. He thinks it’s more than one person. A cult maybe. And he thinks one of the people comes here. But the guy knows Connor’s face and I definitely don’t fit in. We need someone who doesn’t look like a cop.”

“Asshole,” Gavin muttered, “That’s real cute way to say ‘we need your help, Gavin’. You think you really got something on that vampire-wanna-be killer?”

It was tempting. The case was a hot one. There had been a lot of victims and no progress. There was a hefty bonus for whoever cracked it.

Hank sighed, fed up, and barked, “We need your help, Gavin. You willing to meet this guy or not?”

Gavin kicked at his bottle cap and watched it go skittering across the ground before sucking at his lip and sneering, “Fuck, fine, whatever. Who am I looking out for and what do ya need to know?”

Hank grinned.

“First thing’s first,” he said, reaching down to the duffel beside his chair and pushing it harshly into Gavin’s chest, “Kid says you’ll need to get changed. Guy likes a certain look, if you feel me.”

Gavin opened the duffel and turned red.

“Oh hell no!”

“You want that bonus or what, kid?”

“Fuck you, Hank!”

Twenty minutes later Gavin was teetering around the edge of the active bar, tugging uncomfortably at the mesh shirt Hank had somehow convinced him was “for the good of the case”. The leather pants pinched. The only saving grace, if you could even call it that, was the sleeveless hoodie he had drawn over his head, more a crop top than any proper covering for his torso, but the hood gave him a little comfort. More than he had without it. At least his nipples weren’t exposed anymore. 

But he needed to look like the victims. Like bait. Mission a-fucking-ccomplished.

“This is ridiculous,” Gavin snarled beneath his breath so only the communications device he had hidden near his ear would catch it. From the shadows of the corner, away from all the action, he knew Hank was laughing.

“You look cute, kid.”

“Fuck off, grandpa!”

“You really wanna get into age?”

Gavin grumbled but dropped it. He sipped from his beer, nearly empty, and scanned for the man Connor had described. An android. A brawny, tall man with russet hair and programmed to 'invite’ certain people for a ‘good time’ with the killer, if Connor’s hunch was right. And evidently Gavin was on the menu.

Based off the description the guy shouldn’t have been hard to find, and yet the more Gavin looked, the harder it seemed to parse people out of the crowd. The bar was getting lively quick, the music almost so thick he couldn’t quite hear Hank – and he definitely couldn’t see him anymore.

Focused as he was, he nearly leapt out of his skin when a hand touched his nearly naked lower back and asked into his ear, “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Jesus, man, give a guy a heart attack,” Gavin growled, pulling away. He turned to look and blinked, dumbstruck by the sight of Connor’s face, only different. His eyes were blue like the ice of a glacier, and he was taller. Broader, even. His LED was missing. And his skin... Androids looked nearly indistinguishable from humans, but Gavin knew the difference between synthetic and human skin. This guy looked... real.

“Apologies. You were just so eye-catching, I couldn’t help myself.”

Gavin grunted and looked the man up and down. He was clad in a tight black v-neck, a sleek biker coat and biker gloves, and Gavin wondered if he actually rode or if he was just one of those pricks that liked to look the part.

“Yeah, well, paws off. I’m waiting for someone.”

“That’s too bad,” he said, stepping into Gavin’s space.

He opened his mouth to snap that the guy better check himself and step off, but then he caught sight of those eyes again and couldn’t seem to look away. They were churning somehow, distracting. Something was wrong.

“Wha—” His tongue thick and for a moment he wondered if he had been roofied before the thought was plucked from his head as though it had never been. He whimpered, confused, only aware that he had been thinking of something important but couldn’t remember what anymore.

“Good,” the man purred. “Let’s dance.”

He was dragged out onto the floor before he could even wrap his head around it, caught in the middle of a mob of dancing people as hands – maybe the stranger’s, maybe others’ – traced the sharpness of his hip bones that poked out from between his too tight pants and the meager cover of his mesh top. Dipping into his crop top, tweaking his nipples, lowering his hood to nibble on his neck. The music was thought-melting, driving all reason from his mind, and his limbs felt as though they were on autopilot as he swayed with the music and followed the direction those hands.

“I think I’m going to keep you,” a voice said into his throat, skin pinched by sharp canines but nothing broke.

“D-dun even know your n-name,” Gavin mumbled, tongue thick in his mouth and brows furrowed as an alarm bell rang in his head but he couldn’t figure out why.

“Hmm… I prefer not to share my given name,” the man said, pulling back to lock those strange eyes on him again, pleased with what he saw – a man, a cop, debauched, blushing and so malleable in his clutches. “But you can call me Nines.”

Nines.

Case files flooded his mind. Pictures of victims, locations, witness stories. All they had was a calling card – a solitary card from a beautifully designed solitaire set: the nine of hearts.

His heart began to thunder, but even that slowly stilled beneath the man’s gaze as he held him close and forced them both to continue dancing as though nothing was the matter.

“But y’can’t be an a-android,” Gavin muttered mostly to himself, baffled by the face he shared with Connor. Had Connor set him up? No... No... His thoughts got fuzzy again and he whined when Nines nipped him with a little chuckle and a soft, “Poor confused little cop.”

He pulled back and grinned, and his teeth were sharper than they should have been.

“Where do you think they got the design from? Fitting, don’t you think? To design the ageless after the immortal.”

Oh God, Gavin breathed, cursing as his body melted into those hands and that mouth returned to his throat, the nipping just as innocently as before and yet if felt so different now. More dangerous. He tried to reach for his headset to find it gone. He couldn’t see Hank, he couldn’t—

“Ssh, I’ve got you.”

All thought melted away as Nines’ tongue slipped into his mouth, tasting both sweet and yet strangely coppery. Nines kissed him like he was hellbent on sucking the very air from Gavin’s lungs, and he only parted when the man looked fully gone, eyes blank and lust-filled as he melted into his touch and awaited directions -- throat swollen, blood just at the surface, waiting to be pierced. Nines’ brushed that spot with a thumb and chuckled, “Yes. I think I’ll keep you, little cop. You’re just too much fun.”

Hank and Connor shoved their way through the crowd, but they couldn’t find him. 

Tag your posts with #fictober18. Please state if your entry is original fiction or fanfiction and what fandom at the top. State common warnings and triggers at the top and tag accordingly. I reserve the right to not reblog fics that I find inappropriate. 

Prompts:

“Can you feel this?”

“People like you have no imagination.”

“How can I trust you?”

“Will that be all?”

“Take what you need.”

“I heard enough, this ends now.”

“No worries, we still have time.”

“I know you do.”

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

“You think this troubles me?”

“But I will never forget!”

“Who could do this?”

“Try harder, next time.”

“Some people call this wisdom.”

“I thought you had forgotten.”

“This is gonna be so much fun!”

“I’ll tell you but you’re not gonna like it.”

“You should have seen it.”

“Oh please, like this is the worst I have done.”

“I hope you have a speech prepared.”

“Impressive, truly.”

“I know how you love to play games.”

“This is not new, it only feels like it.”

“You knows this, you know this to be true.”

“Go forward, do not stray.”

“But if you cannot see it, is it really there?”

“Remember, you have to remember.”

“I felt it. You know what I mean.”

“At least it can’t get any worse.”

“Do we really have to do this again?”

It’s Day 3 now and I still haven’t done day 1. WHATEVER. I felt compelled to get this one done, and it’s dedicated to @xiz0r and @dreadwolfiscoming. This is what can happen if you make art that gives me FEELS.

“Hawke.”

His own name is the first thing he hears after the sundering. He had been left alone in the darkness, but now there is light and familiar faces. There are tears then. Shouts. A wail. Hawke hears it, but feels nothing. It’s too late. He was taken and broken.

It’s Fenris who leads their final charge through the Gallows that day. Hawke follows because there is no better way. None of the people he once called friends can bear to look at him. Hawke knows he makes them uncomfortable now. He knows, but does not care.

When it is over, they flee the Gallows. There, on the docks, there is a hurried talk of what they should do with Hawke now. It isn’t safe for any of them, especially not the Champion, broken as he is. When one suggests putting him to the knife, chaos erupts. Hawke watches and doesn’t flinch. He knows he once told them he’d rather die than become Tranquil. But now he does not feel that conviction.

Before the argument even ends, Fenris takes him by the hand and pulls him away.

“Where are you taking him?” Varric demands. His voice had been the loudest in speaking out against Hawke’s killing.

“Does it matter?” Fenris hisses. He had remained silent while the others fought. Now, his gauntlet is sticky with Templar blood and the tips dig into Hawke’s hand. “Do not follow us.”