Nov 24, 2025
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merry christmas, please don't call
Jack Abbot/Samira Mohan | rated T | 11,208 words | AO3
For Samira, winter spells loneliness. The days get shorter, the nights darker, the wind colder, and Samira feels it sink into her bones, a chill she can't shake. Work should be enough to distract her. Should be, if not for the reminder of what could have been that walks purposefully through the emergency department, treating her with carefully maintained professional courtesy that stings almost as much as the winter wind. There was a time when stolen glances and gentle words of praise were just as much a part of her routine as charting and ordering bloodwork—something she didn't realize she had come to expect until it was gone. Now, Dr. Jack Abbot is just another colleague. When her eyes meet his hazel ones, there is no flutter in her chest, no split second thought of those eyes looking at her from the pillow beside her, groggy with sleep. There is only the work, nothing else.
Read on AO3
So I finished the Papyruses Angst compilation (if that's what we calling this...). Just a few warnings:
I may be misinterpreting angst with some of these
Some are legit kinda disturbing
With that out of the way, here's angst art of the Pow!Tear, Rough, Pharoah, Sketchbook, Icarus, and Forgot Papyruses!!
runtime error: segmentation fault
open to mutuals
He was melting down. Bent over, hand gripping his face. Tears poured from his eyes like waterfalls, pooling at his feet - tears blue as his eyes. Everything around him seemed to darken, the room felt heavy. As he looked up at the other, one could see that it was almost his pupils and iris practically melting down his face. A shaky breath, and as he pushed it out plants around him started to die and wilt.
Free hand gripped his shirt over his heart. He was sinking down, he was drowning. Head dropping, Mason sobbed. A broken, jagged sound that wasn't natural. His fingers tinted black as his hair drooped, that inky blackness starting to fill out his hands, feet and tail.
He was drowning in his sorrow. And he was taking the room with him - it was ankle deep in his 'tears', and it was rising fast.
5. "Why don't we all just take a breath." Danny/Claudio, smut. (If that eludes you, can be Dannyuta)
A Matter of Time
~
Danny has never been this angry in his life. His blood boils, his skin burns in flame, and the only reason he hasn’t choked the life out of Wheeler goddamned Yuta is because Claudio goddamned Castagnoli has his arms pinned behind his back.
“Why don’t we all just take a breath,” says Claudio behind him, infuriatingly calm.
“Fuck you.” Danny spits at Yuta’s feet. “And fuck you, too.”
“We ask nothing but for a match,” Claudio says. Danny aims a kick backward. It misses Claudio’s balls, but hits his shin. He considers it a win. “Wouldn’t that be easier than whatever you’re choosing to do right now?”
“I’ll choke myself out with this belt before I give that little shit a match.” Danny continues glowering at Yuta. Maybe if he keeps it up, that stupid smile will disappear from Yuta’s smug lips. He knows his Yuta, his best friend Yuta, is still there somewhere.
“Foolish,” Claudio says. He tightens his grip on Danny’s arms. Danny will never admit that it hurts.
“I’d give the real Wheeler Yuta a shot.”
For as long as the silence lingers, Danny searches Yuta’s face. The astonishment lasts less than a second. The horror shorter. The rage replaces both faster than Danny wants to see it.
But the Yuta Danny knew, the one who was his best friend, the one who – the one from before all the Blackpool Combat Club, before the Death Riders. He’s still in there. He’s still somewhere.
“I would,” Danny says, locking eyes with Yuta. “You come back from whatever bullshit you’ve been on for the past few years, and you get the title shot.”
There’s a beat, a few moments, where he knows for sure Yuta is considering it.
And then he looks over Danny’s shoulder to Claudio. Like for permission. Danny’s never been so disgusted.
“Do whatever you want to me,” Danny says. “Beat me up. Kick my ass. I don’t care. But I’m not doing shit for any of you Death Riders or whoever the fuck you are.”
Claudio drops him. Danny does everything he can to stay standing, to not stumble, to seem unbothered by everything that’s happening. He looks over his shoulder and glares upward. “You can go sit on a cactus, you big, shitty brick shithouse.”
“What part of that was intended to be an insult?”
But Danny doesn’t stick around long enough to respond. He leaves, with a new task in mind.
He’ll get his Yuta back.
It’s only a matter of time.
Haha, UH OH
FS trio gifts Miniroth a star projector nightlight (for his birthday, ofc, which he OUGHT TO HAVE!)
Sephiroth is hugging this literal thick, giant uncomfortable mound of plastic to his chest and actually brings it into his sleeping back to sleep with. No electric plugs here. But he can't wait to bring it home and try it out for real.
Hojo breaks it within thirty seconds of seeing it once he gets back.