#{snippet}

[clairewritesfanfics]

imagine being reader when some fucking guy shows up claiming to be your dead brother. at least he brought alfred though? what do you think finding out he was kind of her favorite sibling even though he was literally dead for most of her time with the waynes would do to him?

Reader would be very suspicious because even for all Gotham's wackiness, bringing the dead back to life is a whole new can of worms.

Anyway, I've actually been writing a short scenario for when Jason learns about you from Alfred:

Jason stood inside your room. It was one of the smaller spaces in the manor, but Alfred said you chose it because it was right across from Jason's childhood bedroom.

Bruce and Tim closed it off “to prevent contamination of the crime scene” after you vanished, but after a whole month of examination, Alfred put his foot down and removed the tape, especially now that Jason was here. The elderly butler believed that it would be, if not therapeutic, then fair to tell the boy about his sister. 

He walked over to your bed, he recognized his collector' s edition of A Little Princess. It was a laminated hardback with an illustration of Sara Crewe in a beautiful dress, holding her doll, Emily. Jason remembered saving his allowance to purchase it and was super protective of the book; he never let Bruce touch it because the old man had a bad habit of dog-earing pages. However, the novel was carefully closed with a plain, flexible bookmark to prevent any marks or ripping. Dick, that asshole, would have kept the book open and left it face-down until the spine cracked. 

“She was very fond of children’s literature. She devoured your Diana Wynne Jones collection in two weeks,” Alfred said. “I had to use the master key to get her out of her room. I believe she lost three kilograms because she kept forgetting to eat.”

Jason didn’t know whether he should laugh or get mad at your recklessness. “That’s impressive,” he finally replied. 

Two weeks? Credit where credit was due. He’s been lost in books before but even he needed breaks when he read that collection. 

Alfred chuckled and another silence fell between them. 

Jason looked around and then approached your desk. Your computer was still plugged in, illuminating the ink-filled page of a yellow legal pad. Balls of crumpled paper littered your table and overflowed from the waste basket. 

There was also a notebook, a planner of some kind, along with a calculator. 

“She was considering college,” Alfred explained as Jason picked up the planner full of numbers and computations. “She didn’t speak much of it, but she mentioned wanting to pursue literature or education. I don’t understand why she didn’t approach Master Bruce about it, I’m afraid.”

Jason stared at the numbers. You crossed out most of the expensive and so–called prestigious schools. 

He then put down the notebook. “I do.”

#end#

This is really more of a love letter to Jason than anything else. My boy's been through so much, I just wanted him to have someone to care for and who can potentially care for him more than anybody else in his family.

[evelinessa]

An excerpt from my criminals/heist AU that I originally wrote for a zine, but still need to finish the extended version to publish on AO3. You can't exactly tell from this small snippet, but it's a Narumitsu fic.

this week's word is...

How to play: Find the word in any WIP and share the sentence containing it. Reply, reblog, stick it in the tags, tag us in a new post, or keep it private. All fandoms, all ships, all writers welcome.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

Hi love, I’d probably wear a dressy top, jeans, and high heels. My rizz is staring at Soap a hot guy and looking away if he catches me. 😅

(these requests are now closed, btw, ty <3)

wearing jeans that fit juuuust right with those heels. Soap clocks you the second you walk in. he's fully aware of your stare--he's just letting you stew. it's nice of you to give him a little ego boost. and a little something to chase after later. 

he angles himself just so, just to give you a good view of how tight his sleeves fit around his biceps. damn near preens when he sees your gaze drop to the taut v of his henley. 

you really think he doesn't see you. you don't even look at the mirrored wall behind the bar, which gives him prime viewing of your inner struggle, staring at him like that. you lick your lips and he decides maybe it's time to make contact. 

you look away and (not) stealthily let your gaze wander back to him a minute later-- oh, shit, he's looking right at you. he holds your gaze without breaking his conversation with the scary guy next to him.

"LT, you ever get the feelin' you're being watched?" said loudly enough for you to hear. 

oh, god, you could die. 

Ghost glances at you, snorts, and tells Soap to shut the fuck up.

Soap steps away, purposefully brushes past you. "accidentally" knocks over your half-empty IPA. 

he turns to you with that fox smirk. "shite--your drink. let me buy the next one, aye? no' every day a bird like you eyes up the goods."

caught dead. no survivors. what are you supposed to say to that? you don't. you stutter. 

Soap grins. "nae harm done." he leans in a little, voice dipping. "better view from close up."

up to you whether you abandon that drink or not, whether you let him put his hand on your back and steer you out. he says he'll make you another drink at his place anyway. he's curious to see if you'll keep those heels on after everything else comes off. <3

more Soap / masterlist

[airas-story]

I love your fics, they make my day! "Did you hear? Stephen Strange - of all people - has gotten an apprentice! That poor guy! As if a hole in his chest wasn't enough!" or: Tony has to learn magic from Stephen (who has a reputation of being difficult to learn from).

“It’s an injustice, is what it is!”

Wong looked up, glaring at the master—Master Nestor—loudly talking in the corner. In the library. Where was the respect?

“The Ancient One has her reasons,” Master Lent. “She always does.”

“She sent the poor guy to Strange,” Nestor said. “Don’t get me wrong, the man is talented, no one can deny that. But he’s… he’s an asshole. And he doesn’t know how to teach. He just expects people to know exactly what he means as though it’s that easy.”

Wong narrowed his eyes. They were talking about Stephen and the novice that the Ancient One had personally assigned to him. Wong was one of the few people that had been told that it was Tony Stark, here on a last-ditch effort to learn how to purge heavy metal from his body, and currently calling himself ‘Anthony’. He wasn’t sure how everyone else didn’t recognize him—it was Tony Stark—but suspected the Ancient One was behind it. Wong never quite understood the Ancient One’s plans. He trusted her regardless.

As it was, he’d heard plenty about the situation. Stephen had ranted for days about how he wasn’t a teacher and why couldn’t Wong or another Master take Stark on.

“To be fair,” Lent said. “For Master Strange it always has appeared to be that easy, once he turned the corner. Sometimes it’s hard to explain each step of the process when you just… see the end result, everything flowing together.”

“Of course you’d defend him,” Nestor said. “He’s utterly unaware of your attraction to him, you know.”

“Shut up Nestor,” Lent said, unbothered. “I respect him, that’s all.”

Nestor snorted. “I’m just saying, the poor guy has enough to deal with, what with the giant, gaping hole in his chest. The Ancient One could have at least have given him someone reasonable to learn from.”

Wong might have agreed, if it weren’t for the fact that Stephen’s irritation hadn’t lasted a week. No one else ever quite followed Stephen’s train of thought—not even Wong, who probably understood Stephen best—but Stephen had been brimming with energy because Stark understood how Stephen thought.

Still stubborn beyond all belief, according to Stephen, but Stephen just considered that a challenge to get Stark to ‘see the light’.

No. Whatever the Ancient One had seen in Stark, Stephen really had been the perfect match. 

[sevikasbbymama]

꧁ Sevika/Reader Idea ꧂

sevika/reader, enemies to lovers, but the entire time all you two do is hate fuck, so the first time you have sex after you become lovers, it’s awkward cause…you both don’t know how to make love. well, you know how— just not with each other.

and then it comes to both of you really quickly and it’s really fucking good.

sevika’s constantly asks if you’re okay, and it shouldn’t be as hot as it is. she’s calling you all these pet names (doll, baby ) and yeah that ends in about 4 rounds.

someone write this please (it might be me, we’ll see)

[moonfall-wreckage]

"Running, Hero?"

Hero froze at the familiar voice, ice coating their veins. They couldn't turn, couldn't move, under the villain's power.

They felt the presence behind them. Hands reached out, shifted the hair from the hero's neck. A gentle kiss barely brushed the skin there, warmth fleeting against their icy skin.

"How are you--"

"Shhhh. Let's not spoil the moment." The villain's hands trailed slowly down the hero's arms, pulling them back, oddly gentle as the power restraints clicked onto each wrist. Hero felt their strength sap away, their agility and super speed blocked. At the same time, the Villain released them from their hold, warmth rushing back to them but sending them crashing to their knees.

"I saw you die." It was barely a croak but Hero knew Villain heard it by the way they tensed at their back.

Heavy silence sat between them before Villain broke it with a soft hiss. "Watched."

A searing stab of guilt clawed up Hero's throat, making words impossible.

The Villain took deliberate, slow steps, circling Hero until they were face to face. Villain's expression was a mask of calm but their hands shook at their sides. "You watched. That's what you meant, right? You stood by and you watched what Supervillain did to me."

Hero bit their lip and looked away, tears threatening to fall. They had come up with thousands of excuses since that day. All of it died on Hero's lips then. The Villain deserved better than the lies they made up to try to sleep at night.

Villain reached out with that same gentleness and grabbed the back of their neck, guiding Hero's face around to them. "Say it."

Hero shook their head, the tears falling freely at the sight of the pain cracking through the Villain's eyes.

"I need to hear you say it," Villain hissed, their hand growing cold as emotion riled up their powers and weakened their self control.

"I--" Hero cleared their throat but still only managed a hoarse whisper, "I left you when you needed me most. I watched you-- I watched Supervillain kill you."

Villain's hand fell, betrayal flashing over their face fresh. They laughed, cold and brittle. "I thought maybe you'd have a half decent excuse ready by now. It has been a year."

Hero shook their head, tears blurring their vision. "No. It's not like that. I won't lie to you."

"Hmmm, what a comfort." The Villain's voice was tight, rage rolling off them in waves of cold.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"I'm sure." They paused, then in a more sincere tone, "So am I."

Villain looped an arm under Hero's, dragging them along.

"Wait, Villain, where are you--?" Hero struggled to get their legs underneath them but couldn't quite manage it.

Villain scoffed. "All your noble values, all your preaching. You've never really believed in anything, have you?"

It was like being stabbed. "Villain..."

"You can explain to Supervillain. They're dying to see you."

Inspired by a prompt from @prompts-in-a-barrel that I saw on Pinterest

[klavswrite]

Marie was panicking. Stage 4, almost hyperventilating kind of panicking.

On a whim, her PR team invited a few Gotham celebrities to their fashion show. Becker, a trusted member, decided to invite Bruce 'Infinite Money' Wayne, as a joke.

"What's the worst that could happen?"He had said. "He says no? That's not bad."

Apparently, there was worse than even that. It was quite known that Mr. Wayne liked fashion. He dressed in top of the line suits and shoes and coats, so that isn't a shock.

What was a shock, was how much he was into fashion.

The man of the hour strolled into the venue, two of his sons in tow. One wore an obnoxious pair of sunglasses, covering quite a large portion of his face, the other was in some largo pants and a graphic tee that said, 'I sleep with a gun under my bed'.

Mr. Wayne himself had a pair of sunglasses, for the dramatics surely—he was quite known for his ability to act at times.

Marie scurried up to them, movements riddled with anxiety and awe.

"Mr. Wayne! Thank you so, so much for coming. I never would have expected—" She had bowed slightly, unsure why but it felt right.

"Is that man wearing plaid?" One of the sons interrupted, the one with large glasses. He pushed them up onto his head, acting like an odd headband for his wonderful curls.

Marie furrowed her brows and turned in the direction he was staring and paled.

Clark Kent, a news reporter who wanted to help with the heavy lifting tonight, came in a plaid flannel.

"Uhm, well-" She started, wanting to defend him.

The man frowned, taking.

"What kind of fashion show is this? I want him gone—"

"Dick, please." Mr. Wayne sighed, his other son snickering.

[linnetagain]

WIP Wursday

@badmarilynart thank you for the tag and the delicious bookshop boys snippet (if you haven't read Late Dawns and Early Sunsets - well, you should. Idk what else to tell you. Treat yourself.)

No pressure tags @baldurs-gape @nyxueaurelia @vannral

Season's a bit subject and spoiler heavy for snippets at the moment soooo

Have some On My Cue shenanigans!!

~

They could probably stop.

Gale, however, does not stop. And neither does Astarion. He nudges Gale’s chin back up to be kissed again, properly. And Gale, of course, obliges him.

Gale kisses Astarion in this cold, wet alleyway that smells of the worst of the dock ward, with his back pressed into the raw stone bruising and grating at his back and catching in his hair, and it doesn't occur to him for even a moment to do anything other than enjoy this unexpected opportunity as thoroughly as he possibly can. Gale kisses Astarion like every second of it might be the last. As far as he knows, it will be. He kisses with the intention of searing the memory of this as sharply into Astarion's mind as it has been in his since the ball.

And Astarion, despite the fact that the danger of being discovered has likely long, long passed, meets him with just as much fervency, pressing into Gale like he's trying to merge their bodies together. Kisses him with so much passion that Gale only even thinks to pull away when he really, truly, cannot last another moment without taking a proper breath.

Only then does he put a hand on Astarion's chest, and push him backwards. Not far; just far enough that Astarion's eyes flutter open as they part. At some point, either the spell had slipped or expired.

The man he is facing now is, undeniably, the Astarion he knows and- The Astarion he knows. Lips currently pink and wet from their… activities.

Gale's skin is flushed hot, his trousers uncomfortably tight, and he's still got a hand on Astarion's shoulder from where he'd been holding him close, demanding his mouth. He's breathing deep and fast, his chest rising against Astarion's where he's still got Gale pinned up against the wall.

Astarion is no better; their thighs are locked together like puzzle pieces, and Gale can feel the heat and the hardness of Astarion's arousal pressing into him. His pupils are blown wide and dark, the stark red of his irises reduced to the tiniest sliver of colour.

For a moment, they just stare at one another.

“Are they gone?” Gale asks, at last, in what is probably the least convincing attempt to regain his dignity that he's ever managed. Thankfully Astarion doesn't seem to be paying attention. He blinks, ears twitching.

“What do you hear?” Gale presses, again, when it seems no answer is forthcoming. “Are they still-”

“Will you shut up?” Astarion slams a hand over his mouth. Gale is so shocked that all he can do is stand there and allow it.

Astarion's brow is furrowed as he leans out of their little alcove. To Gale's ears - and indeed all his other senses - the street is as empty as it's ever going to get. For a very long moment, however, Astarion keeps him pressed there. Back against the wall, hand over his mouth. Waiting. Watching. Pressing his weight and his scent into Gale as if laying his body over him, holding him down, with Gale’s manic heartbeat no doubt thudding through his skin and Gale closes his eyes and wonders if Astarion can tell that–

“Clear.” Astarion lets go of him like Gale had bitten him. Where they had been pressed together, warm and close, there is a sudden shock of cold air.

“Quickly, Gale, come on!”

[foreverfallingstars]

chat fic I need to continue :3 but I chose this part mainly because they're stupid and i hate them. anyways no idea when this takes place lol its kind of just floating in some grey area of time

i once again don't know how i feel about this because i constantly fear my writing is ooc and ass LMFAO but regardless they're dumb so i like it a bit

🏷️ @glimmeringasteria @nicoinkokomo

[goldenlionprince]

Last Line(s) tag

Thanks for tagging me @lovelymasks 🥰

I'm slowly making my way through the next update of the Ravenclaw Sirius AU

“Professor,” Black says like he has gone through this a million times already. “You know I am very busy at the moment.” “Yes, yes,” Slughorn says with a beneficial smile. “I know, I know. Prefect and on top of that you're working on eleven NEWTs. What a number!” “Ten, sir,” Black corrects him. “I didn't see the merit of keeping Divination on NEWTs level.” “Ah, yes,” Slughorn nods like he knew that all along. “The only other one you're not taking is Muggle Studies, correct? I remember Filius being a little grumpy about your parents and their rather... conservative view on the subject.” “That's a very diplomatic way to word it,” Black says flatly and Slughorn laughs, patting his shoulder like Black just made a very funny comment. He has to stretch a little to reach it.

tagging (no pressure) @nymphaea-auri @jamesunderwater @neverenoughmarauders

[airas-story]

I'm not really a "omg this is his/her/their song!" type of person, which is why I was completely thrown by surprise when I heard this song (live, too!) and suddenly thought, "Well, shit, that is Stephen and Tony." It wasn't the first time I heard the song at all, it just happened to be the live concert that brought the thought.

Hopefully the link goes through to the lyric video: https://youtu.be/ydWYlx8wexg?si=KvWdvUvpbmSxHGUb

If it does not, look up Last of the Real Ones from Fall Out Boy.

It's specifically the verses and bridge (and yeah, the therapist line lmao) that call out to me. Verse 1 sounds like Stephen to Tony, verse 2 opposite, and the bridge either/both. But that's just my thought. I'd love some sort of prose based on the whole vibe of this song. Any section, any genre, literal or figurative, it's really about the *vibes*. And I figure that might be an interesting prompt for you that also allows a lot of creative freedom. Hope you have fun!

Okay, so I really do love this song. And I swear, after you sent it in, it kept popping up. My playlist, on streaming, with my sister. You name it, it showed up. The problem... I had so many ideas, some of which were very much off the wall. Deciding was a problem. The one I ended up with wasn't quite where I expected to go with it, though. Still, I hope you enjoy.

“You know, I one time told the Avengers that the reason we fought was so one day we didn’t have to fight, so that one day we could go home.”

Stephen looked over at Tony where they sat side by side on a glass hovercraft, alongside the ocean and looking out into the city. The street lights shone down a faint red, leaving the night sky so much more visible than Stephen remembered it being when he’d first moved to New York what felt like several lifetimes ago. 

“Been a long time since either of us have had to fight,” Stephen said. And it was true. Between science and magic they’d strengthened the dimensional and atmospheric barriers keeping out those that would hurt them; with diplomacy and outreach they’d strengthened relations, both with other dimensions and alien planets; with a mix of all four the world itself had started to know something close to a Utopia. Stephen didn’t dare call anything Utopia, because everything could get better.

“Funny then, isn’t it, that we fought the fight so we could go home and…”

Stephen understood. What home did they have to go to? They were the last of the world of superheroes, a dying breed of a bygone age. The world didn’t need them anymore, not in that capacity. And it was a reason for sheer joy. 

But where did a pair of immortals go, when their duty was done?

“You know,” Stephen said. “That last alien ambassador claimed they could use a few scientists to spread our findings on resource replenishment.”

“There’s already a team in place,” Tony mused. “But I’m sure there’s room for two more. And then that one dimension—what is it, the Glish dimension?—has been hosting decade-long seminars to share knowledge. Their magic is different from yours, you can never know too much.”

“There’s more than just a whole new world,” Stephen said. “We’ve got an infinity of them.”

They’d saved their world, helped and aided, and then stepped back as the world had risen up to help itself. They weren’t meant to be saviors anymore. Stephen wasn’t sure what they were meant to be and that was fine. 

Everything ended, even, perhaps, infinity. Stephen didn’t know if that was how long he and Tony had, neither of them did, but this era of their lives had ended. Time to begin a new one.

[writersbloxx]

Body Language

When someone is...

Sad

Face/Body:

Avoidant/reduced eye contact

Drooping eyelids

Downcast eyes

Frowning

Raised inner ends of eyebrows

Dropped or furrowed eyebrows

Quivering lip/biting lip

Wrinkled nose

Voice:

Soft pitch

Low lone

Pauses/hesitant speech

Quiet/breathy

Slow speech

Voice cracks/breaking voice

Gestures/Posture:

Slouching/lowered head

Rigid/tense posture

Half formed/slow movement

Fidgeting or clasped hands

Sniffing or heavy swallows

Self soothing gestures (running hands over the arms, hand over heart, holding face in palms, etc)

[orpheeeeus]

Arthur: So what. You're not going to help my sister, your friend, because some dragon told you that she might turn evil one day, in a far away future?

Merlin: No, he told me that she will kill you, or that she will be responsible of your death. Morgana will betray you. I can't let her do that. I have to protect you

Arthur: *worry evident* A dragon told you that. A dragon… And… Are you sure you can trust it, this dragon?

Merlin: He's a him, not an it. *not looking at arthur* And… who else could I trust?

Arthur: *tears in his eyes. Take a deep breath, trying but failing to keep his mouth from curling downward* Me? *voice breaks* You could trust me?

[danijaci]

what a lovely occasion! I sure hope nobody gets poisoned ^_^

[clockwayswrites]

“Sorry.” His voice was a hoarse whisper through the black muzzle he wore. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real anymore. It’s fine, it wasn’t real—

“All good. My fault,” Flash said as he took his seat again. “Maybe having a name to call you would help?”

It wouldn't.

“Phantom.”

“Phantom,” Cyborg repeated. “Are you a new hero, Phantom?”

Most of the room flinched at his bark of laughter. He stamped the urge down, back under the edge of hysteria. “Retired.”

Beast Boy snorted. “Retired from what? I’ve never heard of you.”

“Sorry about him,” Flash said quickly. “He’s stressed. We… we all are.”

Danny shrugged and curled further around himself. “I know, it’s fine. You wouldn’t have heard. My town was under a sort of media blackout by the shadowy government organization using it as a ground zero for their experiment. Any news on me would have been wiped before it got out.”

“What the fuck?” Beast Boy mouthed.

“Is that, I mean, the organization, are they still an issue?” Cyborg asked and leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees.

To his credit, he didn’t flinch when toxic Danny’s green eyes flicked to him. “Maybe. Not for the town, but for me, maybe. If they are still out there, they’ll have detected my signature and they’ll come for me. It’s why I’m retired, to stay hidden.”

“But you came. Today, you came out of retirement,” Darkstar said.

“Yes.”

“If it’s such a big risk, why?” she asked. “We’ve had other battles bigger than this one. What made you come today?”

Danny’s eyes flickered towards the double doors. He could feel the flames of his hair stutter and spark; he took another breath. The hospital tasted like the lab had. “Because I couldn’t let Nightwing die.”