#comet's fics

[wendy-comet]

@maxthecyborg

Happy SkyStar!!! I wrote you some bounty hunter au skystar :3 First chapter's up tonight, and then at least one chapter a day until they're all up! Hope you enjoy :D

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28189830/chapters/69076278

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[wendy-comet]

@blackblockconsortia Happy Halloween! Here's some Team Prime pumpkin-carving shenanigans for you :D

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27234007

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[wendy-comet]

fic writer ask game!

@sidras-tak thank u for the tag babes

Fandoms You Write For: gotta get me those.... podded casts.... mostly king falls am lately, but also wolf 359, friends at the table, and the penumbra podcast!  Where You Post Fic: AO3 all the way, babey. also i have a fanfiction dot net account that i am NOT sharing here because it is. SO old and embarrassing.  Most Popular One-Shot: “i need you mine,” a jupeter fic featuring some incredibly sappy feelings and inspired by artwork on tumblr (linked in the fic) that i just looked at for the first time in like, a year, and am having feelings about all over again damn  Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: “this is not the way to realize what you wanted,” ie “what you wanted” ie my own personal dream fic. a jupeter fake dating au post the final resting place, roughly 20k, and at the time it was finished, the longest thing i’d ever finished! (it no longer is, but i still love it deeply and will actually reread it for fun, which is rare with my old stuff!)  Favorite Story You Wrote: mmmm honestly? i love a LOT of what i’ve written, even now, but it’s probably still “what you wanted”! i just had so much fun writing it and enjoy rereading it, and fake dating is one of my FAVORITE tropes. runners up are “waiting to be long and gone,” a road trip au written because every time i listened to sleep on the floor by the lumineers i felt immense feelings, and “affections of genuine affection,” another long-ass fake dating au that i love dearly (and the current record holder for my longest finished work)!  Story You Were Nervous to Post: probably the last few chapters of road to ruin? i started posting that story in like, 2016, which is wild, and so my style had changed a bit since the beginning of the fic. and also i did, spoilers for my own work here, decided to blind ben permanently because of aliens and such. i did a lot of research trying to write that respectfully and as accurately as i could, and i was pretty nervous about sticking with it, but i’m happy i did! How Do You Choose Your Titles: all of my works have temporary titles that go “[pairing] [genre] [optional author’s comment]” a la “samben nsfw ;)” or “minffel angst thing (dialogue prompt)” until the last moment, when i title them. the titles are either song lyrics, poetry, or a bit of wordplay/a weird word related to the fic. for instance, “fall softly and adore” was “samben wingfic” in draft form, and the final title is from an emily dickinson poem!  Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: i have another longform samben story for which i just finished the outine, and, uh, it’s a horney one boys. sprung up from some convos in the samben discord, it’s a d/s au where the boys jump feetfirst into some dynamics that they maybe should have been a little smarter about talking over first, and so they get Emotional Fallout. also, i would like to write a long-ass fake dating au for samben, because i am the World’s Biggest Fake Dating Sucker. 

i’m tagging (only if you want to, though!) @orchidbreezefc and @t-eyla

[wendy-comet]

HHGHGH I CANT CHOOSE how about 'fall softly and adore' and 'all spelling out desire'

remember this post, from approximately eight years ago? 

this post is NSFW beyond the read more!

all spelling out desire— 

“Pushy, pushy. You gonna even let me get undressed first, or am I supposed to fuck you through my jeans?” i’m a sucker for ben being pushy and bratty and sammy being like, a little mean, but in a really nice way eheheheh

fall softly and adore— 

i remember when the big king falls discord had just started and wasn’t too big yet, there was a discussion on fanfiction. and someone was like, “well, it’s not a real ship/fandom until someone has written wingfic for it,” like, as a JOKE. and i went in my head, hm. someone should write that fanfiction. years later everyone else has probably forgotten but I DID NOT and we’re a real ship now. THAT ASIDE “Sammy keeps making these small, hitching sounds, halfway between moans and gasps. Ben’s not sure he even realizes he’s doing it. They’re—Ben isn’t sure of a better word for them than reverent." cut to me, smashing that leik button bc i cry every time at my own fukin fic

[wendy-comet]

For the "secret favorite sentence" thing - "ambiance" (any section), "Lovelace's Guide to Surviving...", "I'll be here to hold your hand," and the final chapter of "in the morning I'll be with you." ^.^

oh man some oldies here!! “i’ll be here to hold your hand” is from 2016, wow. it does not feel that old. 

ambiance—i really liked the way I framed this line with the sort of mid-sentence flashbacks. “ He didn’t think about everyone they’d left behind (Hera, can you hear me? I’m still listening for you, baby.) or everything they would have to face again on earth (Officer Eiffel, I’m from Channel Nine, and we all want to know—why were you on the Hephaestus?). ”

lovelace’s guide—gay star wars thoughts are my favorite star wars thoughts. technically longer than one line but IT’S FINE DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT.  “When you sigh her name into her mouth she will pull you closer, and it will feel like coming out of cryo: an overwhelming blast of heat and emotion, almost a painful shock after cryo's steady cold void. All things considered, you will feel an awful lot like Han Solo after getting melted out of carbonite.You always were jealous he got to kiss Carrie Fisher.”

i’ll be here to hold your hand— “I am an adult man and I definitely know how to deal with emotions,” Doug tells himself, you know, like a liar. 

in the morning i’ll be with you— “It wasn’t the first time, not by a long shot. But every time, there was a second where it was. There was a second when Eiffel was floating on the bridge and Minkowski was looking at him with those dark, dark eyes and moving so careful, so gentle, like he was going to fall to pieces under her hands.” Me, a sucker for the thought of Minkowski and Eiffel having hooked up during The Kumbaya Approach? that’s RIDICULOUS who told you that! 

[wendy-comet]

“I promise I’m not going to leave.” Samben

approx eight million years late, BUT just in time to still be canon compliant b4 the new episode drops. set after episode 78, first loser. spoilers up until then! 

against the night

It’s late.

Late enough that it’s technically early, probably, but Ben doesn’t care. The show fucked over his sleeping schedule a long time ago, and he’s made peace with the idea of being awake when the rest of the world is asleep. Sammy’s asleep next to him, curled like a closed parenthesis around Ben’s side.

Every time Ben breathes in, the movement of his chest raises and lowers Sammy’s head along with it.

At least Sammy’s asleep.

They’ve been sleeping like this increasingly often. It started back in Ben’s apartment. It had just been easier, to have the other there when they woke up. And now the station only has the one couch anyway, so… Why not? Besides, this way there’s less chance of forgetting where or when you are, of waking up and feeling like you’re still falling into the void. It's… fine. Ben’s fine with it.

Sammy sighs in his sleep and turns his face further into Ben’s shirt.

He’s not gonna be that guy, Ben promises himself. Sammy needs a friend right now. Just a friend.

They’re both in a fucked-up situation right now, what with the whole being trapped in the goddamn station unable to broadcast because if they do, then the mob with literal pitchforks will know that they’re there. Most people think they skipped town.

The only reason hiding in the station’s worked for so long is that the other employees usually there are on “temporary leave,” and the townsfolk don’t believe Sammy and Ben could stay in the station for so long without broadcasting anything. Or as HFB III would put it, “attempting to feed their libel into the ears of the trusting townsfolk.”

Yeah. Fuck that dude.

He stares into the darkness. There’s no one here but him and Sammy: no cars driving by this far up the mountain; no view of the town far below from this room’s one window.

They are, for all intents and purposes, alone. Ben shakes his head and breathes deep. He glances down to make sure that Sammy is still asleep. There’s no change in the steady movements of Sammy’s breathing. His face remains taut, even in sleep, muscles drawn tight and jaw clenched shut.

Ben should probably just let it go. Sammy will get through whatever dream he’s having. He’ll relax and be fine and Ben shouldn’t disturb him.

But then Sammy makes this—this horrible, small sound. The kind of sound someone makes when they’ve been trying not to cry for so long that they’ve forgotten how to cry at all.

And that’s it, Ben has little self control at the best of time and that goddamn sound is more than enough to wreck it. He wraps his arms around Sammy, one on his waist and the other stroking along his hair. “It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs. “I promise, I’m not leaving, we’re not leaving. We’re gonna figure this out.”

“Hm?” Sammy’s voice is rough, and he barely opens his eyes.

“Sorry, buddy, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Ben’s hand stilled on the back of Sammy’s neck. “Do you want me to stop?”

Sammy shifted to meet Ben’s gaze. There’s still sleep in the corners of his eyes, and Ben itches with the probably super weird desire to rub it away. His irises are so gray in this light that they’re nearly colorless. “Don’t stop,” he says, almost too quiet for Ben to hear.

Ben doesn’t make him say it again. “It’s okay.” He tugs Sammy a little closer, aligning them from shoulder to hip to ankle. Sammy’s all elbows and knees but Ben doesn’t care, can’t care when Sammy hums a little and lets his head fall back against Ben’s chest.

The room falls silent. Ben combs his fingers through Sammy’s hair loosely and tells himself he’s going to sleep soon.

[wendy-comet]

Yeah I'd like some fuckin uhhhh 2 for jonmartin pretty please

i have a deep love for web!martin and in general sort of lots of entity feelings? this is loosely based on the episode “creature feature,” or a missing post-script to it where martin and jon go to investigate the warehouse in which the big spider “kumo” was supposed to be and in which all those people disappeared. 

said the spider to the fly

“Just keep holding my hand and don’t look down.” Martin’s eyes are the same, at least, even if other things about him are different. Even if the hand Jon is holding appears to be one of far more than two, even if his movements on this netting are far more graceful than natural, his eyes are still the same. Soft hazel with smile lines at the corner and the scar through one eyebrow where a mug fell on his face when he was a teenager.

Which Jon shouldn’t know, he’s never been told that. But he does.

“I would really, really love to do that,” he says aloud, distracting himself from everything in his mind that screams to make itself known. “But in case you haven’t noticed, we are… quite high off of the ground.”

“It’s going to be okay, just keep walking forward. I’m not going to let you fall,” Martin assures him. He sounds like Georgie trying to coax the Admiral out of a tree, and Jon has to choke back an inappropriate laugh at the thought.

He takes a step forward. The netting—oh, who is he trying to fool with that—the web shivers under his feet, like a living creature.

Jon doesn’t fall.

“That’s it,” Martin says, still encouraging. He takes another step back himself, pulling their arms out straight in front of them. “Just a few more steps and we’ll reach the utility ladder.”

Jon doesn’t ask how Martin knows where the ladder is.

After all, there is little on this warehouse ceiling that is not swathed in web. The spiders that hide in its corners must know every inch of it by now. He glances to one side as if to look for one of the arachnids now, but the dizzying space beneath him catches his eye instead.

“Jon, Jon, wait, stay with me!” Martin’s voice is insistent, cutting through the haze building in Jon’s head. He’s got two hands folded around Jon’s, and his skin is hot. “Come on, we have to keep moving. I might, um,” he hesitates.

“Just say it,” Jon sighs, and he hadn’t thought he was compelling Martin or doing anything like taking a statement. He hadn’t tried to, really, but the shiver of relief that runs under his skin when Martin starts to answer him must be the Eye, craving whatever information he will give it.

“Spiders kind of like me,” Martin admits, which from what Jon has seen is a hell of an understatement. There’s web twisting through his hair that Jon hadn’t even seen until this now. “So we’ll probably be okay, but… I was the first one to read this statement, the one we’re trying to investigate here, and I really don’t think we want to be here when Kumo gets back.”

“Yes,” Jon agrees, repressing the urge to pry further into just how Martin discovered this affinity with everything he has. His voice is shaking, he notes, almost passively. He could die here, surrounded by the first Entity to ever lay claim to him, and all he wants to do is sit down and hear Martin’s story.

Martin could die here, he thinks. That realization twinges something within him, something deep and possessive and he does not want to think about it too much. The Eye is more than willing to let its assistants wander, but it does not like them to go unseen.

And as powerful as it is, the Eye cannot see past death.

Jon takes another step forward, focusing on Martin’s hands clasped around his own. He does not look at the web or the spiders that gather around to chitter at he and Martin, he does not consider taking out his recorder, and he does not look down.

Martin coaxes the two of them forward, bit by bit. His voice is still so soft, the last thing Jon could imagine as threatening.

“‘Will you walk into my parlour?’” Jon murmurs under his breath.

He thinks the clicking from the spiders around him might be laughter. Martin laughs too, a huff of air that’s barely even audible. If they get out of this, Jon thinks, he’d like to make Martin laugh for real.

There’s a muffled clank when Martin runs into the top of the utility ladder, metal poles sticking up through the soft bindings of a thousand strands of silk. “I knew we’d make it,” Martin says, with more determination than true optimism in his voice.

The strange thing is, for once Jon believes him. They were always going to make it. Not just here, either. They, at least, are going to live through whatever is to come. He may not know how much of that knowledge is him and how much is the Eye, but he knows this.

Neither of them will allow Martin to pass out of sight through death any time soon.

[wendy-comet]

11. “It’s just a nosebleed. It happens every time it’s dry and I get punched in the face.” with samben (even tho i know nothing about them)

thank you so much for indulging me, babe. <3 <3 have some content for a ship about which i am v grateful you let me talk at you about! 

the truth is (i feel better)

Ben flinched as Sammy dabbed at his face with a damp paper towel. “Sorry, sorry, keep going.” He sat on the edge of the station bathroom counter, leaning forward into Sammy’s hands. It was just after their shift, featuring an interview with a particularly… interesting guest.

Sammy shook his head, but he was smiling. “I can’t believe you punched that guy.” He had one hand carefully cupping the side of Ben’s jaw, holding him still. Ben actively did not notice how the tips of Sammy’s fingers were cold, the firm press of them refreshing against his bruised cheekbones.

“He was being super gross,” Ben declared. He sniffled slightly and made a face. “Ugh, I can taste blood.”

Sammy tipped Ben’s head to one side, eyeing the way the light played over the bruise across his nose and right eye. There were a few small scrapes across the skin from the ring the man had been wearing, but all the actual bleeding had stopped. Sammy dropped the soiled paper towel he’d been using in the trash, but didn’t step away from Ben to go get a bag of frozen peas or a cold pack or painkillers or anything useful like that.

He just stayed, standing between Ben’s knees with one hand on Ben’s face. “Do you need to put new tissues in your nose?” he asked.

Ben shook his head and promptly winced. “Jack in the box Jesus, remind me not to shake my head any time in the near future. Or like. Ever again. I forgot how dizzy nosebleeds make me.”

“Have a lot of nosebleed experience, do you?”

“It’s just a nosebleed.” Ben shrugged and Sammy clicked his tongue disapproving, moving his free hand to Ben’s shoulder to keep him from moving. “It happens every time it’s dry and I get punched in the face.”

“Gee, really?” Sammy asked, voice dry as a riverbed in midsummer. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Ben went to shove him, grinning despite himself. Sammy let go of Ben’s shoulder to catch Ben’s hand with his own before it made contact, holding onto Ben’s wrist securely.

There was a second when neither of them knew what to do.

Of course it was Ben who acted first. Ben, all reckless and risky and willing to do anything for the chance for his friends to be happy. Ben with the purple-blue bruise across half of his face, the dark eyes and pretty smile and ridiculous laugh.

It was Ben who tugged Sammy’s hand towards his face, turned it over so Sammy’s palm was facing up, and kissed the inside of his wrist.

Sammy couldn’t breathe.

“Is this…” Ben cleared his throat. “This doesn’t have to be anything.”

“But can it?” Sammy asked, before he was even aware of what he was saying.

He was still standing between Ben’s legs and he took a step forward, almost on instinct. His waist ran up against the counter, cold and angular. Ben was holding onto the lapels of Sammy’s shirt, crumpling the flannel in white-knuckled fists. When had that happened?

With his hold on Sammy’s shirt, it was easy for Ben to pull him forward into a kiss.

It was a little rougher than probably wise, especially with Ben’s bruised face. He made a sound, a whine just this side of pain rather than pleasure, and Sammy backed off.

Well, not literally. Ben had brought his legs up, pinning Sammy close to him with his knees and thighs. But he leaned away just far enough to let Ben catch his breath. “You okay?”

Ben was grinning at him, helpless and flushed and the cutest goddamn thing Sammy had ever seen. “I’m real good. Real, real good.” He still held onto Sammy’s shirt with one hand, but he let go with the other to reach up and push Sammy’s hair out of his face.

“Shouldn’t we get you some ice or something?” Sammy asked.

He had to at least try to be the responsible one here.

“I don’t know,” Ben said, and that was definitely a smirk on his face now. “I think it would be much more helpful to kiss it better.”

Sammy was fighting a losing battle with his attempts to be responsible, but as long as losing meant Ben’s lips on his and Ben’s hands in his hair, he really, really didn’t mind.